I am not in the mood

Most people think Capricorns lack a sense of humour. If we unexpectantly possess it, it is often dismissed as oddball humour which very few will get it. And even when these people do catch on, we most probably won't see them die laughing.

So what am I, a true blue Capricorn going to do about that? Rather than meekly accepting my innate talentlessness, I am striving to be suicidal and write humourous pieces, killing readers (if any) and editors (if they bother to finish reading) softly but surely with my murderously boring writing. And that would be so funny!!!

See. I told you. You won't be able to get this dry sense of humour. I did warn you.

Why the sudden inspiration to try to be facetious when I am not? I can't say this enough to drum it into my unfunny self: to get out of my comfort zone!

What Jack White said really resonates with me:

Inspiration and work ethic — they ride right next to each other…. Not every day you’re gonna wake up and the clouds are gonna part and rays from heaven are gonna come down and you’re gonna write a song from it. Sometimes, you just get in there and just force yourself to work, and maybe something good will come out.

That perhaps has very little to do with my disturbed determination to be witty. But it certainly drives home the point that I have to force myself to work and not, as Tchaikovsky said, "... fold my hands on the pretext that I am not in the mood."

If the mountain goat in me truly aims to reach that mountain top, I will need to be rid of the slothful vice.

Not exactly the best game plan

I have been busy hurling myself out there, expecting at the same time to get chewed up so thoroughly that there isn't any morsel left of my dignity. I have been spared so far and am tapping my still positive feet while holding my breath.

I even invited friends to pick me apart just so I could improve. Though more importantly so that I could get used to the criticism. Other than imparting me with wiseness, experience and insight (you know who you are), none has risen to occasion. They are all too kind and I can't help but love them for that.

The reality is it's a ruthless world out there and I do not have stars (or dollars) in my eyes. The warpaint has been airbrushed and the armour deployed. I am ready to battle.

High street fashion

The pin stripes injected a faint sense of sartorial elegance to the otherwise casual baggy pants that I couldn't tear my eyes away from the charming salesgirl who was donning it. Despite her petite frame, she carried off the big pants in an understated grace. I was instantly sold, without pausing to think for a moment whether my androgynous body which lacks sorely in height would be drowning in those resplendent bagginess.

And then the mirrors in the fitting room cheated. I delusively thought the reflection was a manifestation of my newly-discovered fashion icon. The purchase was thus gleefully made.

The enlightenment revealed itself in the guise of harsh white light and a true mirror. I was struck speechless for I looked very much like this:

Photo credit: here