A love triangle

It's an eternal tale, retold in so many different formats. So much so I yawn at the mere thought of it. Then why oh why has The Phantom of the Opera (the play and movie) so captured my attention and has left me enraptured? 

*Note: Plot spoilers below*

It saddens me so that Christine treated the Phantom as she did. In my opinion, he gave her, her voice - so to speak. Raoul would have never notice her if she remained one of the background dancers. Thanks to the Phantom training her, she was pushed into the limelight. And it was the limelight which brought her to Raoul's attention. 

I also think the scene where he first takes her to his lair is one of the most romantic ever in movie history. It is charged with passion and subtle seduction. 

I understand Christine loved the Phantom because their souls recognised fellow musical spirits. Their religion of music brought them together and flamed their attractions. Whereas Raoul was from her past - their history made her feel comfortable. He was good, stable and always there. To me he was the easy choice.

In the end though the Phantom proves to be the better man. Even though he is a maddened genius, psycho killer and very much a stalker, I still root for Team Phantom. There is just a certain something about his character...

Some of my favourite lines:

The Phantom: Let your soul take you where you long to be. 

The Phantom: You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night... 

The Phantom: Past all thought, of "if" or "when" -no use resisting: abandon thought, and let the dream descend . . .

The world is sweeter in a chocolate shop

It's appalling that I have only seen my cousin and his wife once since I have been in London. So I decided to see them yesterday. And oh boy, do they know what makes me tick: they took me to a shop called The Chocolate Alchemist. Flavoured chocolates, normal milk varieties, flavoured dark and white hot chocolates, chocolate coated nuts and so much more! Oh divine! Heaven! Joy! My only regret is I did not have a bigger bag and could not by more. I am still trying to catch my breath...

*If chocolate was a religion, there would be world peace.*

She has a point

Skanky brought something quite bazaar to my attention: my room looks like my blog! It's uncanny I gotta resort to profane language to express my emotions: it is just plain old fucking weird!

The wall paper in my room is exactly the shade of this "old paper" background, I have brown accent points (the glittery cushion on my bed, the chocolate brown poof, the pictured frames, wooden jewellery box and so on) and there is a hint of green too. The only difference comes in the fact that I have a few burnt orange decor pieces in my room, whereas my blog has none. 

Overall I'd say the room has a romantic country feel to it. In face Vamp told me this past weekend that it is very homely. Skanky said it feels warm. I cannot wait to see what S.O says when he visits. On second thought I wonder if he will even notice all the little things.  ;p 

My two conclusions on this room and blog mirror image situation is therefore: I know what I like or I am dead boring and stick to what I know. And why oh why did I fail to notice it before?! Oi, my mind remains boggled. 

As requested: Halloween pics

A bit of the gory decor

From left: the sangoma/witch/mental patient, the zombie slut and Red Riding Hood/member of the French resistance

Me, the Witch, taking off from the couch!

All Hallows Eve

The witch. The sangoma/witch/mental patient. The zombie slut. The red riding hood/member of the French resistance. In the streets we walked. To the library as the moon looked down and stars gossiped. Rented movies returned and all through to the bus stop we were stared at. "Wooooooooooooo!" we remarked. Passing strangers smiled, adults in everyday work clothes. Sigh.....

To Greenwich we went, hoping to find spirit...and spirits. No not those in the bottle, rather those that will go "Woooooooooooo!" with us. Even the graveyard in the church was quiet. And only one adult Cleopatra in the streets we saw.

Wearing disappointment, along with red lipstick, we strutted homeward. And that is the sad tale of my first Halloween experience.