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Monday, February 29, 2016

Rosie the Rose, part 5: The broken heart brings you the most tolerable places

The Power of Broken Heart

Without Eliot, Rosie couldn't hear any music. Everything seemed cast in grief. Rosie never felt such emptiness before. For the first time she understood how Berenice truly felt. She tried and tried to concentrate on getting to Soho.
That's why she started her journey in the first place. The whole point of her adventure was to find Soho. Yet she walked aimlessly, ignoring the days and seasons. Her legs, before walking so fiercely forward, moved mechanically now. For Rosie the whole world collapsed and yet the leaves continued shedding different colours, the raindrops sounded beautifully lost and people looked gracefully through the keyholes of observations. Rosie had been unhappy before, she experienced abandonment and loneliness. But nothing, nothing in the whole entire world could be compared to the pain of broken heart.
One night Rosie had a fever. She was unwell for quite some time then. It felt like her veins were aching and her skin was all bruised up. When your heart starts collapsing so does your body. Rosie was too cold and tired to fight. She was walking feverishly along a wide luminous street. Many people were queuing and smoking in front of the bars and clubs. Rosie had a hard time among them. Their faces looked so twisted and distorted that she had to run away. She ran so fiercefully, trying to disappear into a next raindrop. She wasn't fast enough, her legs trembled and her whole being regused to move. She stopped and fainted.

The House of Tolerance

It smelled as if thousands of perfumes exploded on an unmade bed. It felt like a naked body sleeping in silk, occasionally touched by merciless leather. Rosie could hear a spicy rustle and electricity bathing on power lines. She slowly opened her eyes. There were six women sitting around her in bed. The spicy warmth was coming from their bodies. They were so different and yet they resembled that one particular feature. The feature everyone secretly desired. Scented candles seemed to be everywhere, lace and vivid make up felt heavy to her tired eyes. Lying there in silky sheets and embroidered blankets felt like the sky fell on the wrong surface.
The women didn't stop staring at her, some smoked, some looked worried, indifferent or bored.
Suddenly the door opened abruptly. There was a tall ginger woman wearing a purple suit and silver shoes standing at the door. Her face looked cold and imprisoned in a single stare. Her eyes were xeroxing Rosie. 'Leave us,' she said to them in husky voice.
'Madame Bombon, can we please keep her?' Asked sweetly one of them sitting closest to Rosie. She was blonde with big baby blue eyes.
'What are we an orphanage or a shelter? She's just another broken teenager,' said another one in strong accent. She was looking at her with contempt and her dark eyes seemed to be on fire.
'Out!' Said Madame Bombon annoyed. The women stood up unwillingly and left the room.
As they all left, Rosie tried to sit up for the first time. She gave up as soon as she felt a sharp pain in her lungs.
'I wouldn't do that if I were you. The doctor said you have a pneumonia.'
'Where am I?'
'In a fantasy land.' Laughed Madame. 'Look, girl I don't know what happened to you or why you came here. But I already spent some precious cash on the doctor...'
'You didn't have to...'
'I know... you can stay until you recover but I don't want any child services sniffing around!'
'Yes madame,' said Rosie as Madame Bombon was leaving. As she was opening the door, she turned around and said: 'Welcome to House of Tolerance!'

Sweet Eugenia

Rosie felt weak and ill for another week or so. She couldn't leave the the dark red silky room. The blonde woman who wanted to keep her was bringing her food everyday. Her name was Eugenia. She gently changed Rosie's sweaty clothes, took her temperature and gave her medicine. Eugenia seemed to like helping Rosie. She loved telling stories about everyone working in House of Tolerance and she seemed to know all the secrets and gossip. That's how Rosie learnt pretty much everything important and utterly useless about House of Tolerance's womanhood. There was no man working there. Well those ones who used to be men before didn't count. 'That was just a nature's big faux pas. They were always women, you know.' Said Eugenia. She had the biggest blue eyes and the sweetest voice. When she was young, she used to be engaged to a wealthy man who she adored endlessly. She said she couldn't be happier back then but of course as it almost always happens, something went terribly wrong. Eugenia found out that her husband to be was ceaselessly cheating on her with numerous women who he claimed gave him such pleasures he simply couldn't resist. Eugenia never heard of such thing. She was brought up in a strictly Catholic household were pleasures weren't supposed to be mentioned. Surely she was hurt by being cheated on but more than that she was very curious about these pleasures. What kind of things were they? How come men couldn't resist them? Are there other ways how to completely control them than just with flirtatious stares. Eugenia had to find out more.
One night when everyone else was asleep she went to satisfy her curiosity. House of Tolerance has been whispered to her eager ears to be the place she was looking for. Timidly she opened the dark pesky doors, unfolded the velvet curtains and entered the house where everything was tolerable. What Eugenia saw was something she wouldn't even know how to dream of. The smell completely free of sweetness and roses. The painfully ecstatic faces covered in sweat beads. Eugenia was lost in sighs and lust. She saw women pleasuring women and men and she wanted to be able to do it too. One of the maids took her to Madame Bombon after Eugenia requested her presence.
Rosie had heard later on Madame Bombon describing when she first met Eugenia: 'You know she was an angelic looking sweetheart craving for lust.'
Since then Eugenia decided to stay. 'Look, I know if I stayed with my fiance, I'd have a comfy life... I wouldn't have to work, I could sleep in, then go to the gym, have luncheons and shop all the time. Maybe one day he would empregnate me and I'd have a little crying baby to dress up and play with. How boring right? I mean J just wanted more, a control, power, fun and endless excitement...'
'But is that what you get here?' Doubted Rosie.
Eugenia smiled mischievously, 'once you get better and see what is happening here, you may understand,' blinked Eugenia and let her rest.

Sunday, February 14, 2016

My First Period Memory

I used to be a tomboy up till I was 12. My mother kept my hair short and because of that I felt strangely powerless. To me having a long hair meant certain control and possibilities. Girls throwing their hair could cause an insatiable fire. Long hair spread on the pillow, long hair flowing in the air painfully releasing the sweet fragrance.
Back then when I was a teenager all hair smelled like strawberries to me. I felt incompetent comparing myself to the rest of girls and I sort of gave up an tried to hang out with boys instead. It was so painful for me because deep down I was an absolute girly girl. That kind of a 12 year old who would rollerblade with heart shaped sunglasses blowing bubbles.
One day as I was walking back home from school, Milo joined me. Milo was one of the prettiest boys in the school and also my neighbour. We grew up together, building  tree houses and snowmen. We used to tell each other campfire stories. He was the first boy I truly liked even though it was obvious he thought of me as his little sister.
All the girls liked him and always begged me to send him secret messages and hearts drawings. I actually never delivered them and kept them in my music box.
Milo and I were walking home. I remember it was a sunny spring day and I wore my favourite overalls. Milo was talking about football and how much he hated cutting the grass. He actually smelled like fresh cut grass and I couldn't take my eyes off of his crooked smile.
I never felt spring so intensely and also I felt wet between my legs. I got frightened and quickly wrapped a shirt around my waist. Milo seemed to notice something changed, the air was spicier and even the power lines seemed to shiver. As we arrived home, he looked at me and smiled gently.
When I got home I've noticed the blood on my Little Mermaid knickers. It felt like a strawberry syrup was pouring out of me. I hurt a little and I also realised that I wanted my hair long.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

January's Blue Life


Since I got back to Seville in January I've been living in a weird, sullen and warm bubble. There was so much to do... Find a job asap because thanks to my insatiable passion for shopping I had no savings and I was fearing I'd have to move back home. Luckily I got a job the second day I arrived. It was in another academy. It's incredible how the job market is so limited here. It's extremely difficult to get any other job here but teaching English.
Now, it's been 5 weeks working in the new academy and I must admit I like it. The building and the classes are so beautiful and there's a projector, computer and interactive board in each class. After working in a shoebox with ZOO carpet from a Chinese job, it felt like a dream. Unfortunately with my famous clumsiness and undeniable proneness to accidents, I didn't have an easy start. Somehow two tables broke in my class, I managed to write on the projection screen instead of the board...
My colleagues are lovely and I like talking to them. Although I find myself quite restrained... After my previous job experience I'm scared to get too close to my them.
The classes are better, kids can actually speak English. I don't teach any babies and I love my adult classes. One in particular, there's a great mixture of professions, a feminist professor, IT guy, football coach, architect and social worker. I mean we have such great conversations. The other class we talked about our dreams. The architect was describing his recurring dream about a long dark hallway in his old house. He said he was so scared to walk through that hallway because something could grab him from right or left side. When he finally reached the end of the hallway and entered the kitchen, there was his mother cooking. He called her and as she turned around he noticed it wasn't her.

The other thing is trying to survive in the city where so many places remind me of what happened and sometimes a certain memory, recognition or sudden inlet of emotions hurt so much and I feel like I can't stand this place anymore. Hopefully I will be able to move out and start somewhere else. I know that maybe I shouldn't run away because it's not about the place that makes me ill although it is connected to the pain. And why not to run away if I can? To outrun the pain and leave it far behind me, in a place where eve moon and stars don't dare to go.

I've been going out and walking around the city a lot lately. My dear friend Rieke, who I used to live with last year came to visit. We wandered around the city a lot. Explored Triana and it's ceramic history, searched for vegan restaurants (found only one) and just enjoyed the beautiful weather. I think because of the sun and warmth to come back was quite bearable if not ok at times. Despite all shit and misery of this world I'm still so lucky to live under the never ending sun even though it burns me mercilessly.
Me and Rieke even sunbathed at the river. The river really calms your anxieties. I don't know if because its powerful currents remind you of strong and unexplored places or just the pleasurable sound of water gently loving its banks.
We went to the theatre to see short plays. It was in a hostel where we had to move around a lot depending on the scene. Most of the actors were wearing masks so you had to concentrate mostly on their movements. To me it felt quite suffocating not being able to see their faces. I love looking at peoples' facial expressions and some faces are so very beautiful that can transmit all the emotions in one glance. To be only limited to body and clothes made me uneasy. In one play there was a guy dressed in a typical flamenco gypsy costume dancing his soul and face out. It was so eery. I sat on a tiny bunk bed with other strangers not leaving my eyes off of him. His performance was so powerful that it made me cry. When finally he took his mask off, his face wasn't important anymore.

One of my friends Maria started to practice corde lisse in a circus school a year ago. She had her second performance recently and I decided to go and see her. Maria is such an interesting person. She's from a very famous comedian family. Her father owns a restaurant that she designed in Triana. Maria is working as an architect in the mornings and hanging on the rope in the evenings.
It was truly a lovely show in a big fabric with vegan food and beers. Most of the performers attended proper circus schools in Barcelona or south America. They were free people, free of everything. Some of them lived in caravans with babies and dogs. What made me happy was that they were so passionate and in love with what they were doing. Some of them you can see performing on the streets too. I have always admired circus and beautifully unstable lives of the performers. Sometimes I wish my mind was more free. That I simply didn't care about hygiene, warmth, clothes that much. To tell the unbearably painful truth I'm just another materialistic person...

I paid a visit to Science House where the planetarium is. I think seeing the stars, planets and constellations spread over the ceiling and listening to Yann Tiersen was beyond beautiful. There was an adorable boy with braces who probably knew more about space than the actual guide. I hope this passion and ardour stays with him forever. Sometimes I wonder if I was actually ever that passionate about something. If not how so? I mean is there nothing that excites me? Or is it because everything excites me and I don't know where to even begin?





Tuesday, February 2, 2016

A letter to a man who got me pregnant, caused my miscarriage and got me fired.


There is a particular moment from my childhood I recall so vividly and precisely as if it happened yesterday. I remember falling off a tree, hurting really badly because I realised the painful truth that I wasn't Pocahontas and there was no way I could climb up as gracefully. My dad found me on the ground crying and feeling powerless and said that I could do anything in the world and not a single tree could stop me. And if I wanted to climb that tree I would! I asked him worriedly what if I got hurt or scratched again?! Dad said there was always gonna be somebody putting a plaster on my wound. His reassurance calmed me down and I kept climbing without the fear of falling. Throughout my life I learned the hard way that if I fall down there's only me on that dirty floor doing the bandaging and stitching. Aching and crying over the worst heartache is meant to be done alone. Growing up however I've never really worried about anything. I always thought I could do and become anyone in the world that nobody could hurt me or stop me. That was almost 20 years ago and now being 26 years old, living in Seville, Spain I find myself entirely bruised and aching because of men...
You'd think living in Europe especially in Spain you are safe  from discrimination and you can speak up and fully express yourself. Well that's what I thought. Unfortunately the truth has hit me hard and I'm not sure how to recover. As I mentioned in my latest blog post about my life in Seville, there was a pregnancy scare I was facing with Marc, a colleague I slept with couple times. I've mentioned I was in love with him and he wasn't. This is a letter I wrote to him explaining what happened in last couple months.

Dear Marc,
After the blood test turned negative I finally felt I could move on and forget about you. I tried to have fun, go out and live my life the best way I could.
However my body and my emotions wouldn't let me... I had an evidence of not being pregnant and yet my body was telling me otherwise. I didn't recognise it anymore. I thought my body was stolen from me... It felt like suddenly I had to share it with an unknown stranger. At times I was worried I was going crazy and paranoid. How do you fight the reason against million overwhelming  feelings? Despite all the evidence I had, I simply knew there was something wrong. So I went for a scan. I just had to do it, for the sake of my sanity. That day I found out I wasn't going crazy after all. As soon as I saw the outline of a baby on the scan I shivered with the quiet resignation of a person who knew all along. At the same time I was so angry and scared I got up in the middle of the scan and just ran home. I know I should have gone there with someone. My brilliant friend offered but for some reason I wanted to go alone. Maybe I just didn't want to share this experience with anyone else. Maybe I didn't want anyone to know in case I would decide to rubber out that outline. At first I decided not to tell you because I knew how insecure, paranoid and hysterical you were before. And why telling you anyway? Maybe I just didn't want it after all. It's difficult to go for an abortion when you are 26, with an alright job where you are surrounded by children and you can feel they adore you. I know that we weren't in a 'proper relationship' but what is the proper relationship? Nobody knows how long relationships last... And should all kids really be wanted? I've learned enough so far to know that some of the most wanted things turn out to be nothing but disappointing.
I truly do believe in abortions and in women rights to decide whatever they want but I wasn't really sure about my decision. I knew that tragedies and disasters could become blessings and nothing unplanned killed people. At the same time I was pretty much decided on the abortion just because I felt like I owned it to myself to feel more ready and confident about having kids. So why should I tell you then?
The problem was that we worked together and had to see each other everyday. I couldn't look at your eyes and just pretend everything was ok. Not because I was bad at lying. On the contrary but I felt like this lie was not entirely just mine.
It was the last week before Christmas holidays and I told you... Text you drunk that it was actually happening. You said you didn't want it to be happening and that you needed proof after all the negative results you witnessed. Of course I was hurt...so very much. You didn't trust me as if I was a fucking freak making this shit up! Of course Marc, because every single pretty 26 year old wants to be knocked up by a 29 year old hysterical and insecure dick like you are! I tried to suppress hate, rage and hurt by thinking rationally and admitting that yeah it looked a little weird... I mean the blood test was negative and you witnessed it and I was just this girl who kept going on about being pregnant. But you know Marc, no! Despite everything, despite the shit blood test which btw can be wrong, I'm not the first fucking case in the history, I should have never tried to justify you doubting me! But anyway I tried to go to my gynaecologist to get the scan photo, the paper saying I was pregnant despite the fact it was before Christmas and everyone was super busy and that everything takes ages in Spain and you need to wait and wait. I went through that stress even though I couldn't get anything that day and I told you, explained, apologised and promised to get it another day. I still see myself there, in that bar in front of the academy. Scared, confused and so broken and you looking down on me saying how suspicious it all seemed. Then all of the sudden you threatened me saying if I didn't give you an evidence you'd talk to a lawyer and our boss. I let you talk to me like that despite the fact I knew you had no right to do it because legally you had no right to the baby until it was actually born... I let you say all this malicious shit as my heart was evaporating. You'd think after knowing someone for a year and half you actually know that person a little and you could tell what he is capable of doing and I knew you weren't a brave person, Marc or a fighter or that empathetic but I swear I never thought you were capable of threatening a pregnant woman. Despite all that I went to work and taught for 6 hours while my heart was weeping and my uterus was screaming. After that I just ran home and cried myself to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night in the puddle of blood. I was so weak and felt like I was dreaming but when I woke up the second time and blood was still there I went to the hospital. I miscarried. I spent 6 hours in the hospital among women who were about to give birth, bleeding the baby out, weak, scared and all by myself. While you, Marc texted me again and threatened me. The following day I went to work, aching and ready to run away. All those little kids smiling at me and hugging me... I bit my lips and begged my eyes to survive that day. Somehow I did. Nobody noticed anything. Sometimes I even tried to believe it was all a very bad dream... You just ignored me and couldn't even look at me. At the end of the day our boss said you told him everything and that he wasn't sure he wanted me to come back after Christmas. I couldn't believe it. That's when the rage came. How dare you? What kind of a person tells such a personal thing to the boss? How could you say all that, that our relationship was very bad and not really knowing if we could work together after all this?! Really Marc? It was equally your fault. You knew exactly that he would fire me... not you because you've been with the academy for so long. And he did fire me... I wasn't surprised. I knew he was a proper dick and just cared about himself and his precious business. I wasn't that hurt because it wasn't personal. Although he fucked up and fired me in all possibly illegal ways he could. I got fired and you got what you wanted. You got rid of me and you continue working at the academy as if nothing happened and you are this amazing teacher who everyone likes.
So this is the fucking modern European reality. A woman gets fired over the miscarriage because of the actual father of the baby who just wanted to forget because he was too scared, weak and so fucking totally clueless and insecure that he didn't know how to deal with the situation. Well guess what, Marc? You are just a stupid fuck who doesn't even deserve to be called a man. You are not even human... I can't fucking sue you because I don't have any evidence. I can't kill you because I actually want to have a reasonably happy life. And as much as I dream of hurting you, ripping your face apart and breaking every single bone in your body, despite all the anger running trough my veins, I know that one day I will be happy and able to get through this.
The only thing that scares me to death is you having a daughter... No daughter should have a father like you... Who instead of putting a plaster on a cut spreads and infects the whole wound because he is scared and doesn't know how to apply the plaster.

If your heart breaks you don't die


After my unfortunate sexcapades I only slept with one guy. He's one of my colleagues and... you shouldn't sleep with your colleagues! Of course it was my idea. It almost feels like as if my mind blossoms with shit ideas. We've known each other for a long time and have 2 days in a week I could kill you and the rest of the week it's actually nice talking to you kind of relationship.
However since I got back to Seville in I've been having strange feelings towards him. You know like when your heart suddenly discovered a new rhythm. And you really don't like the way it beats but it doesn't listen to you. Then you stubbornly fight with your heart and it exhausts you so much! The only good thing about the wrong heart beat is losing weight and not feeling guilty about drinking and smoking too much. I'm XS now!
Anyway I thought if I had sex with Leonard it'd just go away...? And also it's nice to wake up with someone you know. You can actually talk in the morning, don't have to run away and have banana and tea in bed. That's a nice change. So why did it not work then?
We did it again a week after and I felt good about the whole thing. Also I felt he was being uncomfortable by the fact it'd be a weekly thing. So I asked. And I wish I could tell you we talked about it face to face but guess what, we whatsapped.
He didn't feel like being with anyone and he didn't want to make it awkward at work. Fair enough. I knew it before. It was just a matter of time when my heart would start shaking.
Sometimes you wish to know the truth so you can move on and stop the haunted merry go round nonsense you became. But the truth doesn't help. It's a mere fact that doesn't change anything. You can be heart broken but there is still the rest of you. That reminds me of a scene from Angels in America. When Harper says 'When your heart breaks, you should die. But there’s your breasts, and your genitals, and they’re amazingly stupid, like babies or faithful dogs, they don’t get it, they just want him. Want him.' I couldn't describe it any better.
Regardless I tried to move on and survive my days. Xanax would fucking help! All heartbroken people should get free Xanax until it's all gone.
However 3 or 4 weeks after I didn't get my period. Considering I'm on the pill it didn't look great and I was like this just can't be happening. What are the odds? I mean what a fucked up scenario. Getting pregnant by someone who broke your heart plus a colleague? Well done Tami! I told him and we did the test and I'm not pregnant. Yaaay!!!! I'm so relieved and I may even start to believe in little amount of justice in this world. Unfortunately I also feel like I don't wanna have sex again. I don't think I could possibly sleep with another stranger and then pee on the stick. I don't want to feel the distance again. I wish sex meant more. I wish one day it became a part of love and changed something. When the strangers become lovers and they'll never want to leave. I used to believe in this. I was almost absolutely sure that somewhere out there was another part of you desperately looking for you. I used to be an incurable romantic. Well I'm not anymore. People don't necessarily have to meet heir significant other, life is not like Godard's 60s films, love doesn't last and it always rains on the unloved.
I guess my advice is try to invent a shield for your heart, always have a super glue on you, don't sleep with your colleagues and if you do have safe sex!
To finish this miserable post and start my Saturday, I would like to use this quote by one of the funniest and saddest philosophers, Slavoj Zizek.
“Yeah, because I'm extremely romantic here. You know what is my fear? This postmodern, permissive, pragmatic etiquette towards sex. It's horrible. They claim sex is healthy; it's good for the heart, for blood circulation, it relaxes you. They even go into how kissing is also good because it develops the muscles here – this is horrible, my God! It's no longer that absolute passion. I like this idea of sex as part of love, you know: 'I'm ready to sell my mother into slavery just to fuck you for ever.' There is something nice, transcendent, about it. I remain incurably romantic.”




A stranger left me baby, European Film Festival and I finally got to visit Megan

I've been so very busy last two weeks.
Something really unusual happened. I was walking home from a friend's place. I was drunk and it was 4am. Suddenly a woman with a baby in a push chair stopped me. She looked stoned, out of her senses, toothless and super thin. She talked to me for what it seemed a lifetime. I was almost falling asleep when she just ran off leaving me the baby in the push chair. I was like what the fuck just happened?! That completely sobered me up though. I think I just made myself believe she was coming back for the baby that was peacefully sleeping. Well, after 40 minutes of waiting in the same exact spot, I wasn't so sure. Luckily I remembered that there was a police station around the corner where I already spent a night when my phone was stolen. So I went in and explained, as collected as I could, what happened. Hoping they won't think I wanted to get rid of the baby because it was mine. Well, they believed me and after explaining million times what happened they let me go. I mean how sad is this? Leaving a baby to a complete stranger who's obviously drunk. Feeling so desperate to actually do it... from then on I'm avoiding the place where it happened.

Work's been great. Just some of my classes are... I find it difficult to be strict and serious when they are making hilarious jokes. Some of the teenagers are so witty. I wish they didn't ask about sex all the time though. Ok I know at that age that's probably the only thing you think about...I swear sometimes I don't know if I teach English or sex education. Last week I spent the entire morning trying to practice my killing stare but everyone at school thought it was hilarious and cute. Oh well...
Moreover I really enjoy being with my colleagues. It's so nice to go to our bar after work and have beers and Gemma's favourite peanuts. Everyone knows us at the bar and it just makes my job way more bearable. But I seriously need to get better at drinking. I feel like everyone drinks faster and more and it's always me who goes home first. Tami, you're Eastern European for fuck sake!

The film festival started and this time I enjoyed it in the whole different level. I didn't work there and just watched films. Many films. There were days I watched 5 and left the cinema at midnight. What a soul consuming experience. I was so lucky and honoured to share it all with my friend, Antonio. He's my gay soulmate. Before the festival I only met him once in a gay club and we somehow managed to talk about films for 4 hours when everyone else was getting drunk and laid. After that we agreed to do the festival together. The thing about Antonio is that he makes you feel beautiful and relaxed. He's an architect, a theatre actor and pianist. He dances sevillanas behind the cinema in the dark alley like nobody else and he hates sushi. I missed the feeling when you genuinely love being with someone and enjoying it immensely. It was an adorable discovery that it is still possible. We'd watch film in the morning then went yo his place to eat and have a siesta and then back to the cinema. I wish he married my brother so we could be a family!

The highlight of these weeks was definitely the visit of Kate and little Megan. How beautiful was it to finally meet Megan. Last time I saw her was on the ultrasound. She's so gorgeous and Kate seems so happy. We spent the whole day talking, eating and walking around the city. I hope they'll come and visit me soon for longer.