…and back, thanks heavens (or God, or The Goddess or the Forces That Move The Universe, WhateverYouWannaCallIt)
I have been thinking about this post for a while, furthermore, I have been thinking something that Brown Suga' said commenting into the Wonderfull Volonakis Davis last article, We are not powerless,….. she said:
I love how you always manage to take all the thoughts out of my head and weave it all into a wonderful article….
Now, as I stated in the beginning, I write here because I want to leave a legacy to Sarita, I would love that she has in the future something to read and smile (or cry, or whatever) as I have the marvelous correspondence that my dad kept from when I moved to Rio…. these were hand written letters, something full of wisdom from his part, full of all the emotions of my day by day and the thoughts of gratefulness even for the times in which we were at our little *family wars*, in my teenage years……
So, as I was saying, I didn't come to Vox to have people reading me or commenting. I wanted a place in which to have a diary, period. Thing was, in the process, I ended up meeting som of the most wonderful people that now inhabit my life, and some of these people have provoked huge changes in, not only the way I think, but in my factual actions. I started studying jornalism.
This I owe to (again!) Mrs Volonakis Davis, who recover the feelings I thought lost in me, those who tell us that we have a mission in life, and those who know that even a little voice, if added to many others, will make a change.
I still am a bit scheptichal about the whole world, but at least I'm learning (even if what they teach me is what I will NOT do) to write in order to help, maybe, people in my position, or the ones who don't have as much strenght to get through it. Oh, I forgot, it will also help me to get back into the world of people with dignity (visceral translation: come of the benefits system)
But lets get back to the point: There is a lot I should be writing about, but I have been writing with a pen, so it will be added when I start printing my Vox ( I ve heard that there are companies who do this, but, is it that impossible to have it done at home? me thinks not), lets say I have been doing a lot of writing for college (in which I had dreams of having the skills and talent of Mrs Volonakis, my dear Kirk, Iliask or StreetVein , just to name a few [actually, if you got this sent, was because I was thinking of you]) , a lot of reading as had a really taugh physicall pain time and bed was the only solution (and I will try to manage to write about what I read), but the main event of our lives is something that seems to be popping up in every site, newspaper, TV or radio programm I come across: my daughter is now 12, not yet a teenager, a child no more, but entering adolescense with full determination.
And I hear you all, loud and clear: it happens to us all. And I have to admit, Sarita is not even half as problematic to me as I was to my parents at her age….but still. One day we were happily going to High School Musical on Ice, singing the Cheetah Girls songs and laughing at Hannah Montana together, the next we are having an argument about going to school with make up, going to Camden to buy black clothes and then one day the door slam and….
"I may as well turn into an EMO!!!!!!!!!!"
What the hell is an emo?
I'm lucky I have some friends with teenagers. I'm the richest person on eath to have the friends I have, to have people (yes, even here in London) who will jump on the tube or a bus to come help me in the quest of not loosing my daughter's friendship, but still give her a proper education.
I know (for sure) that, even though I did all the drugs catalogue in the 70's and 80's, even though I had a lot (a lot!) of sex, both with men and women, I was around thieves and heavy criminals at some point, well, you get the idea, I know that despite all of these I had a good life, intense, not always easy, but one with a very, very few regrets, and I know that this happens only because of my parents bing there. Not only with support, but with some discipline too.
My dad gave me good moral values, he challenged me to study theology to realize that all organised religions go to the same place, taught me a lot which would help me later to overcome difficult situations, my mum loved me with all her might, so much that she was the one who came with me when I got pregnant (I was maybe 23, or was it 21? oh so long ago) and I didn't want to have the baby (I had kicked this guy, my band's drummer, of my flat a month before I realised I was *withchild* and dread to have a baby born with a moustache only to remind me of Tony for the rest of my life!), to have a termination. Think this was early 80's I'm talking about. Though my father was a doctor and biochemist, it wasn't easy to find a clinic, it is still ilegal in SouthAmerica in 2008…)
Anyway: my thoughts are, how difficult it is to get through this alone?
Then I remembered something my friend Andy said at certain point on this subject, talked to some people, turned the PC on and googled Emoes. Then I took her to Camden, we did the shopping, and had a bit of a chat. I know she listens.(though is difficult to believe, at times).But how I wish my friend Nikki was here….
We are back to Disney channel and a good laugh, some shouting (could it be any other way?) and complaining from my part, but I'm bracing myself.
I know I love my child more than life itself. I know she loves us, as a family. Together we can.
PS: edited to do the spellcheck….2 grammatical erros..hehe, I m mastering the English.