Because it is in the middle of the night, and I have no place to go in specific, I am allowing myself to have a glass of cold, dry, white wine from South Africa. I needed something to unwind me and could think of nothing better since the milk is all gone and I can not make hot milk with brown sugar in it. Besides, this wine is much more fun because it is making me feel slightly tipsy, which is a welcome feeling. Every once in a while you just want to let down your hair.
I do have to, of course, go back to bed in a while, but I am not quite to that point yet. I want to savor the quiet dark hours of the night first. Right now, I am my own best company, although I would not mind someone agreeable to talk to, but try to find someone at this time of the night. I would have to go to a pub downtown and hope to find someone who was still sober enough to have an intelligent conversation with. I better not take that chance and stay here with Tyke and Gandhi instead.
My sister and I saw the film "Philomena" and although I had heard about those practices, I had never watched them as a subject treated in a film and it was very moving. I think both the actors did a good job with their respective roles and it was a very believable story, of course, based on a true one. Toward the end of the movie, I felt such outrage and not at all forgiving like the main character did, but then again, I don't know how I would have felt if I had walked in her shoes.
Nowadays, when it comes to the catholic church, I am keeping the intentions and the attitude of the present pope in mind, and that keeps me somewhat tolerant of it, or able to bear it. But it is only because of him that I do. Other than that, I think for the most part it is a corrupt institution which has committed may sins in the name of god. Having protestant roots, I don't identify with it, being much more of a Calvinist, but I can understand the attraction of the common people to the hierarchy and the pomp and circumstance, although I am sure that Jesus the man, in all his simplicity, never intended that.
I can see why a writer would want to be a drunk because the words flow much more easily. It is as if the brakes are off and the muse has been given free rein. This is not something new I am discovering, I am just stating it for the first time while under the influence of wine. In the past that was under the influence of orange juice and vodka, which is much more powerful stuff. I could see while under the influence of wine, I could get very romantic and fall in love with the first attractive man who presented himself to me. It is a good thing that I am aware of this, although the exposure to them is very small.
I am, and will be, a single woman unless a miracle takes place, and having Calvinistic roots pretty much excludes that. I can't go to Lourdes and pray for one. I don't mind this too much because I actually think that I have a pretty darn good time all on my own. I don't live with too many illusions and having just a few of them fits my personality. Well, as is befitting of my manic depressive one, I actually have a very dramatic one, but I keep it under wraps. It is only when I have had something to drink that it gets to peek around the corner.