…we all know them. They are everywhere. No matter what country you live in, what step of the ladder you are on. We have all had to get rid of one at some point in our lives. Maybe we have even been one, ourselves, at some point or other in life…but moved on, got one (life). The past have just knocked on my door, again.
You have probably realised I have been a bit absent this past week, many things happened (which I am not even sure if I have written about or not). I had a fall (my crutches sliding graciously in the divine London rain), had to rush to the dentist with my right side in agony, was given antibiotics, which only worked as I was taking them, therefore I had to rush to the doctors, who prescribe even more antibiotics. But the coronation of the week was the arrival of one of my ex girl friends, Marta , on tuesday evening.
We got in touch again very soon after we came back from Brazil, in january, you have prolly read about it. She got married to a nice, young French girl, they were living in Spain, and I almost believed what I was being told: Oh I have changed so much, I am very sane lately, understood that I had to move on, blah blah blah, I'm just waiting for this bloody job with these Tarot people, you cannot imagine the corruption here in Spain, the Spanish are dreadfull, life here is blah blah blah…..
I had a marvelous experience in Spain. I love the Spanish, I had no trouble at all to get jobs, but then again, I am far better qualified than Marta, and I lived there a long, long time ago. Still, there was something that didnt quiet fit (or fitted too much onto what Marta did when we lived together)
I'm not gonna go into details, but only say that this visit really, really p***d me off.
One cannot reach the age of 55 years old and still expect one's friends to give full board, refuse to get a job (a down to earth one) and excuse one self with the you dont know the things I have gone through in life…
I am not gonna say that mental illnessess dont exist, but I can recognise when the depression, agorafobia or ME (to name just some) are selfdiagnosed conviniently to sleep, eat and drink from the efforts of others.
I'm probably not making much sense here. I would have to sit and write what happened in the very early 80's, when we were in our 20's and living together (some 3 intense,crazy,dangerous years) ,and I (little I, 6 years younger than her ) was the one with 3 jobs, the one renting the flats, paying for it, borrowing my parents car (you get the overall idea) whilst she sat and whinge, cried and endlessly tried to read the cards to see the future. I remember that the last thing I said when I split was that for her to see the future, she would need to get out and start making one….
I knew she didnt (get a future) with the following 2 girl friends she had. One of them even came to cry on my shoulders and ask for strenght to help her break up. But now, 2007, I havent seen or spoken to Marta for at least 9 years. I was hopefull, or at least I wanted to believe.
I saw myself getting angry (because she lied to me, I wouldnt have agreed to her visit if I knew the whole truth), lecturing her like I did almost 30 years ago, feeling sorry for this other girl, her partner, though I dont know her, for she is 20 years younger than Marta, and the one doing what I was doing almost 30 years ago.
I am very tired to carry on writing, and I know this may not make a lot of sense. But there are some things I would like to write down, even if only for Sarita's benefit in the future…
We are the arquitechcts of our own destiny. We cant (or at least I reckon we cant) use our parents, our partners, our friends or even the horrible experiences we have gone through in life as an excuse not to get on with life, and here I am talking about some basics, like, I was a performer, a singer, an actress, but when I couldnt get a job performing, or the performing jobs werent enough to pay the rent and food,I have cleaned toiletts, worked as a waitress, looked after children (in times when children to me equaled nightmares), you name it, I ve done it.
And I have the honour to know and count as friends women who have had very, extremely difficult starts in life, like Mabel, whose mother died when she was born, her father blamed her for it, abandoned her with the grandmother, She only knew the granny wanst her mum at the age of 12, and then 2 days later she saw her sister comiting suicide in the back garden by dropping two galons of gasoline (petrol, wotever) over her body and lightning a match….. did Mabel sit and cry coz her life was misery? nope
she moved cities, and even though she did not finished even secundary school, she fought for her life, cleaned houses, drove taxis, waitressed, and finally when we all move to Rio, she started as a tour guide in a lil agency. Today she lives in one of the most gorgeous parts of Ipanema, is very well known in the bussiness, respected and loved.
I have similar examples. Most of my friends are fighters. Most of us are *gypsies*, we have traveled a lot in life, we have lost everything, fell badly, but stood up again and again. I'm angry. Maybe that s not the right feeling. But I had to go through 4 days I really, really didnt need. 4 days of hearing excuses, and I dont take the excuse thing anymore.
Anyway, I m gonna go sleep, my whole body hurts,and this doesnt make much sense anyway….