Tercera Vida: Spare Lives

It's amazing how by reading other people's blogs you feel a little embarrassed, well, I least I do. Everyone has so many things to talk about and they receive so many comments. I am talking rubbish. My lives don't interest many people, if any. So boring and average. How can I fill the supposedly weekly, at least, post if I don't have a fuck all to say. I'm not going to talk about my kind of shitty job. Well, I could start saying that I am a bloody foreigner who is a civil servant; not naked. I was naked. Before the civil service stuff. And, the worst of all, I only write this shite when I'm really drunk or out of it. So be it.
How people can go on and on about things and then have their 5000 words worth of essay and I can't fucking make the hundred, I don't know. I guess my life is pretty boring. Probably I should talk about my earlier lives, when I believed in angels and all that stuff. Well, one day, when I am REALLY our of it, I think I will start something like that. At the moment, with my bloody broken English I can only do so much, but I don't feel like thinking in Spanish, I'll have time for that another time.
And now I'm trying to edit this post and I hate reading things I've done before. I fell so embarrassed! But, of course, because I was drunk back then, I have to revise all my mistakes. It's amazing how much your finger roam on the keyboard and click the wrong letters once and again, you convinced that your typing skills are second to none. The fact that all the troubles to publish don't make me feel at ease and don't make me feel better either, is making me realise that to write is not that important for me, not now. And then again I feel a little disappointed because, really deep inside, I wanted this to be my vehicle to the rest of the world. But being completely honest I had my suspitions about it anyway. I might take a rest and think what to do with all this mess.

And disappear for a while.

Lebensstücke Nr. 3

El que ríe el último ríe mejor

La vache qui rit

The laughing cow

Die Walkyrie

Duplex Paris Le Marais

Segunda Vida: Life is a Bitch

I was very upset about an email someone sent to my boyfriend. It involved me. The worst thing about was that it came from his oldest and best friend. She stayed in our house for a couple of months while she got ready to go back to New Zealand. Everything was cool. But she never lived, or learnt how to live, with other people, so she got a little bit carried away with her wierd ways. There was a moment that I had enough and I had to talk to her seriously and then she got really upset because someone told her off. At the point that her boyfriend, probably ex by now, wanted to kick my head in. Well, this is the email I was ready to send to her but my boyfriend decided I rather didn't do it because he wanted to talk to her first. I think he hasn't done it yet. Well, I am very sorry but a little bit bitter about all the situation. I am the baddy, so f**k it! I'm not going to send it to her, but somehow, she will get it, as I said the other day, everyone is connected. I hope she knows about this post. I don't really care whether she does or not, really, I just want to get it out of my saved items in my PC. The only thing is that you had to be in the situation, but to give you the picture, imagine that someone takes over your life, is confronted and then she is really offended because you wanted to speak for yourself. She was given a house where to live, a phone to use (and she abused. Funny thing this: she was against mobiles because of the funny radiations to your brain spoooooky, but she spend all night talking from our land line to her friends mobiles. Moral of the story: what you don't want for you try on your friends). She disrupted the house vibes big time, etc, etc. It is too long to explain. Please, feel free to comment. Specially the ones who know her, the girl with her boyfriend's nose. Here it comes:

On reply to that bitter email:

No one needs to feel grateful for something a friend does for them. An old friend doesn't mean a good friend, anyway. If something was said during your stay at Saltoun Road was by me, because someone who lives with others needs to show some respect, that's the only thing I said, and I said it only once, and witnesses are the ones who heard it right. No one wanted to make you feel you were in owe. No one does charity nowadays. You paid your rent and you had your rights in the house, so there's nothing to pay back. You paid for a service. If you don't know how to live with others it is your problem, don't put third parties into that. Everyone has to adjust when living together, the only thing I said to you was that you weren't doing it. There is some kind of brain washing going on when someone wants to smash heads in for hearing that. Well, you are right, partners come first, when they deserve it. That's why I didn't say anything about your behaviour, until some other people suffered because of your lack of consideration, some people who were not paying guests, whom I had to speak for because they were my guests. I could bear you leaving tampons everywhere, having private salsa classes in the living room, spoiling a wooden floor with your high heels, having baths when the paint was still fresh, having the phone bill trebled, but when I had other guests in the house that suffered your behaviour that was the last straw.
Only remember that you were not exactly a pain in the arse, but I was the unlucky one who noticed your selfish way of "sharing" a house. Or were you so shocked that I was the only one who confronted you that you hated me for that? W h a t e v e r. Someone, sooner or later, had to say something; well, it was me, the bad one who had to pick on you, poor victim. Coming from outside I wasn't biased, no friend that could see your behavior as old antics of a cave bitch or that famous "oh, well, she's like that, she can't help it". Just remember how many times you've lived with someone else and how long they, or you, lasted. And think about whose fault it was. Hopefully you've changed and there will be not many more times.
Ah, and another thing: the fact that you said that it was this house or the street, well, you had enough money to go to a country you apparently despise with all your guts and had a nose job done. Successful or not, those couple of grand you splashed out could have saved you all that hassle and bad feelings. But hey that's my way of thinking: I shouldn't have done that and all the stuff. The only ones that were on the street were some other people who went to Auckland last year. And the fact that you complained a little bit too late, after you took all the stuff you left behind for a year in the house, was the right move. What did you think? That I (not D.) was going to get rid of all of that as a way of satisfy my anger if you said something? If that's the way people like you think, congratulations.
Good luck, the one you deserve. When I kissed you goodbye, that was a true kiss, I didn't know yours were that false. It is a pity that they cannot be returned. They were wasted. Shame.
Next time, please do not hate anyone who has the guts to tell you the truth.

Dedicated to all who think life is a Bitch with capital V.

Sorry if this is not interesting to anyone but I had to get it out of my chest.

I can officially be hung now.

Well hung.