|
|
|
|
|
|
|
PET HATE BLOG: LOU'S CORNER
Name: Louisa D. Age: 25 Location: lost in the English fog Interests: Bitching
Anthropophobia Posted: 05.01.200..., 23:33
For over a month now I've been locked up in my room and I feel great. I'm not looking for anything out there. I am sick and tired of taking bullshit from all sides.
I hate people and all their petty little problems and hopes and disappointments. They either bore me to death or get on my nerves -- or both. Of all the species inhabiting this vast planet of ours (and there are quite a few slimy and smelly and yucky ones), I find humans by far the most unpleasant. Which means, of course, that I don't particularly like myself, dear reader. I'm so typical I make myself cringe. Not that I would like to be someone else, God forbid, but really, putting up with ME hasn't been much fun. Then again, if there's anybody I dislike more than myself, it's my two sisters and my parents. They are the epitome of a life spent lying and cheating and manipulating and harassing each other to keep the family from breaking apart. Talk about dysfunctional. Fortunately, I don't live under their roof anymore. In fact, I live thousands of miles away. You'd think that would relieve me, but it doesn't. I'm still depending on my parents' bloody charity to survive. They pay for my education, housing and food. They believe that higher education leads to a successful career, which in turn leads to a fulfilled life. Sometimes I wonder where their minds have been for the past decade or so.
When I moved to England for my useless master's degree in comparative literature about a year and a half ago, mother would ask me every week on the phone if I had been "looking for a part-time job" to cover some of my expenses. Plus, it would allow me to interact with people, she said. How healthy. To be honest, I wasn't in the mood to work in some godforsaken pub or fast-food joint or retailer or call centre and "interact" for a handful of lousy pennies. It's degrading. But go explain that to parents. So I pretended I was not only taking loads of university courses, but also spending days in the library to keep up with the "demanding level" of an international master's degree and all. The only job I might have time for, I said, would be as a waitress at a local topless bar that opened after 10 p.m. on weekends -- I told mum that the pay was pretty good. She advised me to "rather stay at home and get some sleep". That's what I've been doing ever since. I've even made it a habit to spend entire weeks in bed. It's done wonders to my mental health. What mum doesn't know is that I hate my degree so much. And the colleagues, professors, lectures, papers, the whole bloody campus... As soon as you get out of the lecture room, you run into hordes of hype students rushing to and fro, imagining they're so special and have all these "opportunities" ahead of them, and with some luck you will manage to squeeze your way through and arrive at the foyer, where dozens of stands are selling you useless stuff and there's always this bad, loud music blasting out from loudspeakers. Interestingly enough, I seem to be the only person bothered by these phenomena. I've concluded that I'm surrounded by idiots.
But being here in cold and dirty N. is far better than home. I don't miss it at all. I even managed to skip flying over for Christmas, which of course I loathe, with all the silly jingly songs and fatty food and always always always getting worthless little candlesticks and handbags and ugly sweaters from your relatives, because they haven't bothered to notice or ask about your tastes or needs. I claimed to be "drowning in work" - and even though it "broke my heart", I just couldn't afford to "lose a week" to sit next to the plastic Christmas tree and chat about my hair or my younger sister's latest outfit, stuff myself with roasted dead animals and cheap chocolate, and watch TV with my half blind, half deaf grandma between the meals.
Last time I saw my family, about a year ago, things were in a turmoil. I was happy to get the hell out of there. I didn't want to have anything to do anymore with my younger sister's drug addiction, my older sister's eating disorder, my father's infidelities, my mother's manic shopping sprees, my aunt's random crying fits, my uncle's frustrated career efforts, my cousin's mental retardation, my grandma's hip problem, etc etc etc.
But I couldn't care less. I'm actually sick of the whole story. If only I could think of other issues to bitch about!
Comments:0
***
TRUE-SELF BLOG: CONFESSIONS OF BEA
Name: Beatriz D. Age: 27 Location: Lisbon, Portugal Interests: soft music, poetry, historical novels, jogging, friends and family, my degree
My open pages Posted: 09.01.200..., 10:47 Last night I watched this film on TV about a woman who wrote down all her deepest worries in a diary and then intentionally left it in a public library, where another woman of a similar age picked it up and started adding her own thoughts. The film showed how they went on using that same diary on separate occasions, without ever meeting personally. Still, they ended up deeply influencing – even helping – each other. This was before blogs. I had been wanting to start my own journal for a very
long time, but was somehow embarrassed to indulge in talking to myself. The
idea that I might reach somebody else appeals more to me. I don’t have much to
offer, but I want to try to be as honest as possible about myself. My true
self. That’s all I have to give. So, let’s see: who am I? Well, that’s what I hope to find out. Maybe other
people’s comments will reveal more to me. But for the record: I am a Portuguese
woman in her late twenties, I live in the capital, Lisbon, and am currently
involved in a doctoral research project at university. I have a degree in
Microbiology. I share a flat with my two sisters. Actually, at the moment I
live with only one of them, the youngest, as my other sister is studying
in England. The flat is very nice and cosy, it has big windows overlooking lots
of other buildings all the way to the sea, and I just love sitting in my room and
watching the people down there, ten storeys below, going about their business. I also enjoy catching the commuter train and stepping
out in downtown Lisbon, going to a café and just experiencing the hustle-bustle
of life. I usually take my laptop or a book and sit for hours on my own at a
table. When the weather is nice, I like to go to parks and museums. Most of my
time, however, is spent at university, doing research with five colleagues. It
is monotonous work, but I am excited about our findings. I think science is
beautiful. I have a boyfriend, Artur, who recently graduated in Marketing
studies. We’re very close, he is my best friend, but lately we’ve been having
some problems. I think he is under stress because of his difficult life
situation. His family is always in financial difficulties, particularly since
Artur’s brother and his wife have had their second baby. They all live together
in a small flat. On top of that, his father drinks and his mother is very ill –
she suffers from arthritis. Artur is now looking for a job. He received training
with a pharmaceutical company here in Lisbon, but they let him go after six
months. That was last summer. He didn’t even get paid for his work, it was part
of his degree. Now he has a diploma and is trying hard to get hired in his
field, looking through the newspapers, sending his CV to various companies, going for job interviews. I think he's put down by all the
rejections he gets. He’s such a gentle person, I love him and want to be
there for him. Sometimes I become impatient, especially when he
slackens and sits in my living room for hours, watching TV. We both like
cartoons and entertaining films, board games and some good laughs – I just wish
he were more interested in reading and talking about serious issues. Artur wants to marry me as soon as he starts his career, and then we can rent a flat closer to the centre. He’s a bit reluctant to
leave his mother, though. I like Artur’s mother, but I don’t know how to
communicate with her. She’s continually crying about her unhappy life. Only her
little grandchildren can make her smile now and then. Sometimes I just want to stay in bed and not see anybody. But this is a weakness I have to overcome.
Sometimes I fear that everything I do will be a
failure and I won’t manage to finish my research and find a decent job afterwards.
I owe it to my parents to receive my doctorate as soon as possible and start
earning my own money. At the moment I get a scholarship, but it
only runs for another three months. I can apply for it again, although there’s
no guarantee that they will grant it once more: my research has been going on
for almost two years and I have hardly any results. I feel bad for my parents. They have lots of expenses
with us girls. They bought this flat in Lisbon five years ago and are still
paying to the bank. But it was a good investment – mother says that there are
better employment opportunities for my sisters and me here in the capital.
Right now things are a bit tight: my sister Lou didn’t manage to get a grant
for her expensive master’s degree in England, and my youngest sister Jo is
lagging behind in her Business Administration degree. My mother worries excessively about us girls. I think
this is the legacy of the years our family spent in war-torn Angola, when we
were children. That wasn’t a safe environment. Mum always had to drive us to
school and back, even though it was within walking distance from our home,
because so many people were robbed or kidnapped. She also made sure we didn’t
venture beyond our street when we played outside. And she had to constantly
remind us not to accept food or drinks from strangers, avoid the filthy toilets
at school and stay away from stray dogs and cats (who might carry all kinds of
parasites). She is a caring mother. She calls me every evening
from G., a small town in the east of Portugal, where our family settled after
escaping the war in Angola. She needs to check if her babies are doing alright.
Sometimes she gets on my nerves, even though I know she only wants what’s best
for us. We are a very united family. In fact, we’re almost
like an old-fashioned clan. Just a few steps down the road, in a residential
neighbourhood, lives my mum’s kin: that’s my granny, my uncle Mario, his wife
Silvia and their son Carlito. They’ve been together for ages in granny’s house,
this is the centre of our clan’s frequent meetings. I also had a little room
there when I started university. That was before my parents decided to buy a
flat for my sisters and me in this newly erected block. Back then Carlito was still a small kid and spent a lot of time in hospitals, because of all the operations he had to undergo to help him breathe normally. So I was glad to be around: we all kept each other company in the evenings, watched films together and discussed the TV news reports. Granny and auntie are very talkative and interested women, I enjoyed living with them. And uncle Mario can be really entertaining when he's in a good mood – unfortunately, he’s often under stress and tends to spend a lot of time on his own, locked up in his bedroom upstairs, watching TV or playing solitaire on his computer. Aunt Silvia and uncle Mario have been having some
marriage problems lately, but I think this is only a phase. They miss their
son, that’s all. Carlito has been sent to a special school in Spain, so we only
see him on holidays. He’s an adorable kid – he just has difficulties adapting
to normal classrooms, where other teenagers always poke fun at his big body
size and facial features. Carlito isn’t ugly or anything, but his several nose
operations have left him with some scars and a slight speech disability. He’s been making a lot of progress in his new school, which is on a farm outside Barcelona. Mum and dad frequently drive over on weekends from G. and
are put up in Lou’s bedroom. They’re happy to lend a hand to mum's family,
especially now that granny is getting old, Carlito is no longer around, and
uncle Mario has been fired from his job as an accountant in a big trading
company. On Sundays we all get together for a big meal at granny’s. It’s nice to be surrounded by so many people who love
and care about you, but sometimes I imagine what it would be like to take off
for a while and explore the world. Sometimes I just want to be on my own. Comments: 0
***
PET HATE BLOG: LOU'S CORNER
Success Stories Posted: 11.01.200…, 20:14
I wonder how my sisters turned out to be such idiots. You can’t trust them to form a reasonable thought.
Take my older sister, Bea: if you meet her, she seems like the sweetest creature in the world. She has this broad smile on her chubby face all the time - and although she's in her late twenties, she talks as if she were five. I mean, the tone of her voice as well as the content of her conversations would make you think she has some kind of mental handicap. She doesn’t. In fact, she’s the little genius in the family, if ever there was one. Ask my mother about Bea, and she will probably tell you how “successful” her daughter is at university. All it amounts to, though, is one of these boring research projects where a bunch of geeks in white coats conduct funny experiments on other creatures for the advancement of mankind. She’s specializing in Microbiology. But not even that is as exciting as it might sound: she just collects data from their abstruse experiments and feeds it to the computer. I once asked Bea how she felt about the fact that one day she might develop the next generation of biological weapons, and she looked at me as if I were a nutcase (I told you she isn’t stupid). She has never heard of weapons being created in university laboratories! In fact, she's proud that her research group deals exclusively with "microscopic creatures" - so she doesn't "affect the little mice at all”. Infecting various types of small caged mammals with weird lab mixtures is the job of another department. Bea’s working on fermentation, experimenting with “harmless bacteria” which are supposed to be added to processed meat products, so that the stuff “tastes like meat”. Therefore she is innocent. She's just concerned with turning plastic food into something you would naturally want to eat.
Now that we’re on the subject of substances developed in laboratories, I might as well introduce you to my younger sister Jo, who has indeed profited much from all kinds of scientific advances. She began with ordinary prescription pills in her early teens, little painkillers and sedatives that mum and dad kept for their sleepless nights. Jo wasn’t just killing headaches, she was getting high. I remember that her mood improved considerably in those days. One can only recommend these drugs. But her exploration of the wonders of chemicals hardly stopped there. For the past decade or so, my little sister has smoked, slurped, popped, snorted or injected just about anything psychoactive you can imagine. And let me tell you, there’s a lot to choose from nowadays: legal, illegal or a good mixture of both. God bless the lab geeks and their guinea-pigs.
Don’t get me wrong here, I don’t mind if you routinely knock yourself out in order to endure life. I myself like to escape to my nicer private world. Reality sucks.
For the rest, Jo really is as mainstream as the most square person you can imagine, believe me. I have spent enough time in her company, watching her do her little drugs. I even participated in some minor experiments. (Be a conscious guinea-pig, I say!) My final conclusion about my sister’s habits and ideas can be summed up in two words: unbearably boring. She’ll take those chemicals and sit in front of the TV all day. You couldn’t tell the difference between her high and her sober moments, except that she's much friendlier when she is intoxicated. In the dreadful flat I shared with my sisters before I fled from Portugal, you could peek into Jo’s room and notice the remnants of smoking and snorting sessions she habitually had with her boyfriend or a few pals. Then you’d find Jo sitting with Bea in the living room, watching a quiz show and munching away some cold pizza, followed by cake or ice-cream. It was actually funny to observe how one of my sisters kept getting fatter while the other kept losing weight.
Talk about junk lives.
And their
boyfriends…! But here I have to interrupt myself with some self-criticism: if
there’s one thing my sisters and I would agree upon, is that my boyfriends
have been the greatest idiots of all. I really believe in the power of love, I
do -- only this explains how I could have wasted so much time and energy with
the most pathetic guys I ran into. And the best part is: I repeatedly managed
to convince myself that each one of these males was so “exceptional”. It’s a
miracle I’m not a wife and mother yet. I certainly deserve that punishment. For all it’s
worth, at least my little sister Jo has one true, constant love: her
chemicals. All the mumbo-jumbo about a future career, friends and enemies,
jealousy and betrayal, clothes, food, football, pets and children which she
manages to churn out to my absolute befuddlement fades away as soon as she
concentrates on getting her next fix. For a short while she has a clear
attainable aim -- that’s more than you can say about most of us.
Comments: 0
***
HEART IN AFRICA BLOG: THE STORY OF ALDA
Name: Alda D. Age: 52 Location: G., Portugal Interests: my family, baking, interior decoration, cats, buying presents for my daughters, crime novels
To have a dream Posted: 12.01.200..., 17:44
I would like to thank all the blog writers on this Europeans from Africa international website for inspiring me to start writing my own story. It has been more than a decade since I've left Angola, my beloved homeland, but for years I couldn’t find a way of expressing my grief. This site has helped me more than I can tell. I want to take
this opportunity to share my unique and tragic experiences, having witnessed
the transition from colonialist oppression to a brutal civil war in one of the
most beautiful countries in Africa. These happenings have shaped my entire life, and
have had a profound impact on my family as well. I was born in Angola in the 1950s, when it was still a Portuguese colony. My parents were part of the colonial regime. They believed that the whites had the right and even the duty to dominate the blacks, because only white settlers had made the country run efficiently. But I was convinced that my family was lagging behind: there was a great tide of liberation sweeping over the whole African continent, and you could either embrace it or be swallowed up by it. My dreams corresponded to this tide, and soon I met other young white Africans who felt like me and encouraged me to stay true to my ideals -- because they were going to prevail. History proved us right: in 1975 Angola became independent. While most Portuguese fled the country, I settled down in the capital, Luanda, with my husband Martin, himself an Angolan. We wanted to participate in the reconstruction of our homeland and make it the most prosperous nation in Africa. That entailed many hard battles from the beginning, especially against vicious rebel minorities and vested imperialist interests. But we were prepared to go to any lengths for the achievement of our goals. However, the peace and prosperity I longed for kept being postponed by decades of civil war. Each day living conditions were deteriorating. Even in Luanda everyone feared for their lives (including foreign businesspeople and ambassadors). Which is why we eventually had to turn our backs on our homeland. We've been here in Portugal since December 1992. And still, no matter how hard I try, I just don't feel at home. There are so many aspects of Portuguese culture that I cannot adapt to and I miss Angola terribly.
Now that my daughters are all grown-up and ready
to lead their independent lives, my mind keeps returning to those early days of
Angola’s recovery from the colonial rule. How challenging and promising everything
was. I can't help wondering if I shouldn't return there and pick up
the work where I left off. That was, after all, the only time when I felt truly
happy, truly justified. For all it’s worth, family life has never managed to
bring me the same amount of satisfaction.
Comments: 0
***
TRUE-SELF BLOG: CONFESSIONS OF BEA
Bad karma? Posted: 14.01.200..., 21:09 Today just wasn’t my lucky
day. I got into arguments with three people who are close to me. I had a sleepless night,
mainly due to the disturbing noises coming from Jo’s room until dawn. I don’t
know for sure what was happening – there were clearly several people, though
apart from my sister I could only distinguish male voices. It was difficult to
tell because her TV set was so loud. These people kept coming in and out of her
room, going to the kitchen or to the bathroom. At a certain point I could swear
that I heard someone vomiting. It was excruciating. When I finally got up around 8
a.m., things had settled down. I tiptoed to the kitchen to prepare my breakfast
and noticed that there were a bunch of people sleeping in Lou’s bedroom – they hadn’t even
bothered to close the door. I’ve told Jo time and again that I don’t mind if sometimes
one or the other friend stays over, but those guys I
heard last night… They disgust me. They aren’t university students
or anything, they’re these immature thirty-somethings who still live with
their parents here in the area and meet Jo in the café across the street. They
are loud, foulmouthed and aggressive. I don’t understand what she sees in them. But what really got to me was
the state of the kitchen, it was full of repulsively dirty dishes. You couldn’t
even find a single clean cup. So I decided to get out of the flat and give my sister a
chance to clean up during my absence – I didn’t want her to snap and yell at me
like she has done lately. As I was about to leave, I met
Jo on her way to the bathroom. She immediately asked me to go get some
bread and cigarettes, since I was already dressed. That’s when I
started screaming about being late for university and finding it inappropriate
that she lets these strangers sleep in Lou’s bed, when she knows that mum and
dad are using it on weekends. My tone of voice was really loud, which is
unusual for me. Jo was so startled that she started to cry. She begged me not
to tell mum anything. They have been on each other’s neck lately. Jo said she’s going through a
rough period: Tony (that’s her boyfriend) has dumped her again and she just
wanted to have some fun to take her mind off it. I felt sorry for her, she’s so
in love with Tony but they continually try to hurt each other. I calmed her
down and told her I had to go. We actually hugged – it was nice. I joined Artur for lunch at a
shopping mall close to university. Since there wasn’t much work to do in the
lab, I had decided to take the afternoon off and go to the museum or to the
movies. I wanted to enjoy myself. But Artur didn’t feel like going
anywhere, he had again been rejected by some company. He said he would rather sit
in my living room and snuggle his head onto my lap. I don’t know what came over
me - I was sickened by the idea, I lost my appetite immediately and just
stared at my sandwich without saying a word. I hoped that Artur would ask me
what was wrong and would help me find a way to express myself, yet he simply
switched subjects and started telling me about this talk-show he had watched on
TV last night. I’m
usually a calm person and try to present logical arguments when I disagree
with somebody, but probably because of my sleepless night, I suddenly called
Artur an idiot. I had never done this before and must have shocked him so much
that tears welled up in his eyes. I immediately regretted and explained that I
was stressed because of my work in the lab (which is also true, I suppose) and
had wanted so much to go to the museum this week, before the end of the
impressionist paintings exhibition. I couldn’t believe I had behaved so insensitively. But
I’m lucky to have such a kind boyfriend, he forgave me. After lunch we took the
commuter train to my place, where everything was tidy again. Fortunately our
charwoman had come this morning. I now see that Artur’s idea was much nicer:
there was nobody else in the flat, so we could fool around and relax. I’ll go
to the museum on the weekend. Probably on my own. About an hour ago, mum called
me up. We chat every evening, which is mostly OK. I know how lonely she feels
since we kids have moved to Lisbon – she was so used to having us around,
cooking for us, helping us with homework… Now she and dad are a
bit disoriented. I know for sure that they still love each other a lot, even if
they sometimes fight over silly matters. Mum complains that dad is always
lending money to his two younger sisters, aunt Nanda and aunt Cecilia, and they
never pay back. I don’t like it when mum criticizes dad, she should be more
understanding towards him. She says he is full of debts but refuses to discuss
the matter with her. Mum is also worried about
granny, who has had a hip operation two months ago and can hardly move now.
Granny just lies in her bed and claims she’s being neglected by aunt Silvia, who only
comes by her room three or four times a day to make sure she hasn’t dirtied the
sheets. Auntie isn’t an unkind person, but I have the impression that she is
fed-up with taking care of granny. They’ve been living together for more than
fifteen years now, day in and day out. So mum asked me to go over and chat a
bit with grandma, to cheer her up and relieve aunt Silvia. Then she wanted to talk with
Jo, who still wasn’t back home. For the past five days or so, my sister has
managed to be either asleep or away when mum calls. This puts my mother’s
nerves on edge, she becomes anxious and complains about Jo’s unhealthy
relationship with Tony. Mum thinks he is responsible for my sister’s failure at
university. She asked me if I knew where Jo was, if I had talked to her today,
if I had been to the supermarket to get her favourite soft drink. I’m kind of used to these questions,
but today they made me furious. I told mum I’m not a babysitter and she should
stop treating Jo (who is 23) as if she were totally helpless. Mother took this
as an insult. She reminded me of Jo’s unstable personality and low self-esteem,
which is why my younger sister needs my support. Mum said she can’t take care
of everything, it’s not easy to manage a family. Her voice was shaking. I felt like hanging up. I
think I was mainly angry at myself for having been so tactless. I know that mum
only wants what’s best for all of us. I’m so tired, perhaps it’s the
weather – or my work, which is too demanding. And I wish Artur could sort out
his life, it would be great for him to have a job. It might even make him more
sociable, instead of always hanging out with me. I’d love to have a wider
circle of friends. Sometimes I miss Lou, we were pretty close. We would talk for hours about everything. Mum thinks I should visit her in England this spring. Maybe she’s right.
Comments: 0 ***
PET HATE BLOG: LOU’S CORNER
Everyone is doing great! Posted: 15.01.200..., 12:37
If anybody bothers at all to read these ramblings of mine, they might have the suspicion that I exaggerate my relatives' tendency to cheat each other. I'm not denying my possible paranoia, but this really is beside the point. What I am saying is: I have evidence that I'm being lied to continually.
Take the e-mail my older sister Bea sent me yesterday:
Hi, little sis!
How are you? Is it still very cold up there in the
North? Have you been reading any interesting books lately? How are your
flatmates doing? Are you still having difficulties with your subjects? Mum
tells me that you are full of work at the moment -- me too! Anyway, I just wanted to say hello, it’s been months since I’ve heard from you, I had expected to have a little tete-à-tete with you at Christmas but unfortunately you weren’t able to come. It was all very nice, even though granny wasn't in her best mood: she didn’t get to do her cooking this year because of the hip problems, so of course she had to criticize auntie’s sauce and mum’s overcooked potatoes and all that. And uncle Mario has still not settled the issue of his unfair dismissal at the court -- his lawyer says there are good chances that he will win the case against his old company, though. I sure hope so, otherwise he will go on complaining to everybody about the “rotten system”! Carlito came over for the holidays, he's improved so much -- you hardly notice his speech problems. All the teachers in his new school have praised his efforts and confirmed his
talent for music and math. Aunt Silvia wants to buy him a piano,
but uncle Mario says they don't have money for such luxuries.
Still, everyone is doing great, you know how we manage!
Mum and dad are fine, they’ve been fighting less, although every now and
then dad gets into financial difficulties because of his sisters. And Jo
and Tony have apparently split again - I expect them to reunite by the
weekend. Crazy kids! For the rest, I think Jo actually looks better, less
skinny that is. At least she goes to university regularly. Sometimes she seems a bit off, I think she drinks a little too much or
something. I’ll try to have a chat with her this week, to see what she’s been
up to. And me, well, I guess I’m OK too, just aslightly stressed because of my research. But I enjoy my work, every day. Artur
has been applying for jobs, let’s hope he gets hired soon. Have I told you that
we are thinking of getting a place of our own? I haven’t informed mum yet. This
weekend I’m going to the museum to check some impressionist paintings. If you
were here, I would invite you to come along! Anyway, that’s all, I think. As you see, nothing has changed. Maybe one day I can let you in on all the details, when you have more time and come see us. I have actually been dreaming of going to London as soon as the weather gets better -- that’s only a few hours by train from where you are, isn’t it, so maybe we could meet?
Lots of love, Bea.
Ignore the appearance of a happy, talkative, united
sisterhood. We're far from it. Bea hates my guts as much as I hate hers -- we
just don’t make an issue of it. After all, we’re family. I get e-mails like this every three months or so. I
usually reply immediately and enthusiastically, telling Bea about my
great adventures, the friendly flatmates, the interesting university subjects, the lousy
weather… all that. Of course, most of it is made up: my life here is utterly
boring and depressing, I can’t really stand my flatmates (and I’m sure it’s a
mutual thing), I haven’t attended any lecture for a couple of months now, and I
actually like just looking at the fog and rain outside while I’m comfortably
tucked under my blanket. Then I turn to my sister’s ramblings and start
asking for details: are she and her boyfriend Artur having more serious talks
these days, is she still nervous about her scholarship, why do mum and dad fight so
often, what makes her think that Jo is doing better/worse… things like
that. I get involved, I show how much I care. At this point, big sis tends to
back off. I don’t hear a word from her for a long time, and then another one of
these e-mails pops up in my mailbox. I again have to read platitudes about my
family. As if it weren’t enough to talk to mum on the phone every week! Christmas is probably the ideal occasion to observe my relatives in action, as they all get together in granny’s house and drive each other nuts. Granny’s place is well within walking distance from the building where my sisters live -- you can actually watch and wave to each other from the windows, if that's your idea of fun. We don’t even live in the city, but in O., some godforsaken outskirts. When my grandparents and uncle Mario settled there in the 1970s, the area was quite appealing, with neat residential neighbourhoods, trees and gardens, and all the little shops at walking distance. By the 1990s, high-rise buildings (including the one where our parents bought our flat) were sprouting up all around granny's street.
Whoever is in charge of the Christmas cooking, the result is always
pretty disgusting, full of with fat and tasteless deep-frozen vegetables and cheap wine and all. But that’s nothing as compared to
the company. Granny had been getting on people’s nerves even before her hip
operation, she doesn’t hear things properly and so tends to interpret every
conversation as an insult or a threat to her. I’d say this is pretty accurate:
for years now everybody has been waiting for her to drop dead (she’s
about eighty). Auntie Silvia just feels frustrated about her
spoiled life -- from her retarded son to her failed husband and ungrateful
mother-in-law. Meanwhile my uncle Mario gets everyone involved in his endless fights
against his old company: when he still worked, he continually grumbled about his "tedious job", the "stupid colleagues" and the "choleric boss"; now he
whines because he was chucked. I’m sure he’ll go on feeling sorry for himself
even if he wins his damned case. He and his wife always have big arguments in
front of the whole clan, to the point where she starts crying and he goes off
“for a walk”. No wonder our cousin Carlito came out a
bit “defective”. Obviously no special school is going to change this -- the
only reason he was sent away to Barcelona was that nobody could put up with
him any more. His only visible talent is for destroying things. He should probably consider wrestling
instead of piano playing. My favourite bit of information concerns my parents,
though. For the past five or six years, mum has been complaining that dad spends so much money “on his sisters”. Dad’s family is as
dysfunctional as they come, but I have serious doubts that all his supposed
debts are due to aunt Nanda’s occasional travels to the Spanish coast
to look for a new boyfriend, or aunt Cecilia’s difficulties raising her four
children ever since her husband got imprisoned for embezzlement. Dad might give
them one or the other penny, but they’re not that close, really. Of course, Bea and mum are speculating about dad’s concrete activities, because you can’t ask the guy what he is actually doing with his money: he just gets out of his mind and starts screaming until his face turns red and you think he’s going to have a stroke. This usually shuts everybody up. Some time ago I asked Bea if it wasn't more likely that dad has some kind of romantic affair(s), where he invests at least part of his earnings. He often has to travel around, doing technical maintenance for different companies. Couldn’t it be…? Nope, sister immediately answered, because “mum and dad still love each other a lot”. Right. They can’t exchange two decent words, but at least they share feelings.
And little sister Jo is doing “better” and has been going to
university of all places! Let me assure you that Jo hasn’t set foot in
university for years. In fact, she mostly just hangs out in the
shabby café opposite the depressive block where my sisters live. She drinks a
few beers while she’s there, I’ll grant you that, but this is just the
introduction. Most of her drugs consumption is actually done in the comfy
privacy of her bedroom, with her junky pals and her boyfriend Tony. Even their
weekly fights concern schemes and deals to get more stuff. This was already Jo’s routine while I still lived in that goddamned flat -- and yet, my sister Bea doesn't notice anything. She doesn’t ask, either, she just sits with Jo in front of the TV and listens to little sister's stories about her difficult Business Administration subjects at university, the arrogant professors, and of course Tony’s jealousy fits. Then there’s Bea’s private little universe, with her dull boyfriend and the unrewarding work in the lab. She's so bored with Artur, all they do is watching stupid videos, playing childish games and munching sweets. They’re both chubby and claim they're trying to lose weight. Every so often, Bea will take up jogging and Artur will start swimming, but the whole thing fades away after a few enthusiastic sessions. Incidentally, Bea has been telling me for six months now that Artur is getting a job. It doesn't occur to her that nobody needs Artur’s working power, just as no one will properly employ her when she’s done with her doctorate. Plus, I don't have much faith in Bea's plan to move
out: not only will Artur never be able to afford such an adventure, but
the flat I shared with my sisters is registered in Bea’s name and financed by my parents -- why in the world would anybody forfeit
a deal like this? What older sis really desires is to get little sis out of there
once and for all. But I don’t think Jo is letting go that easily. They
sure would have a lot to discuss if they dared. To wrap it all up, Bea threatens to come to
England and, I suppose, check out what I’m really on about. Yes, that would
probably relieve her of her own troubles. I bet mum is behind this, suggesting
that Bea should see London, cause it’s such a “cultural” city. Then she can
just as well pop by N. to say hello! And report back to base. Mum loves
organizing our lives for us. I do pity Bea, she has always been mum’s factotum. Deep in her heart she wishes somebody else would take on this
function. Me, for example. That’s one of the reasons why I was glad to leave
the family circus -- I was so tired of fighting with my sisters and
making my own existence shitty in the process, just because our parents, aunts,
uncles and grandparents don’t know how to sort out their boring lives and always need us
to distract them and make up for their failures. This time I won’t reply to Bea at all.
Comments: 0
|
