THIS IS THE END, MY ONLY FRIEND, THE END

Boys and girls, welcome to the world of the Nueva Fontana and Dom Perignon. Last night, party tight. Never forget, never regret... unless there's a cruel girl with a camera and a webpage.

GOLDFISH AND SLEEPING PILLS

I came home from work, absolutely exhausted, although I had done nothing at the restaurant. I think my mind and my body have decided to stop working today. They they've had enough, they have no strenght left. And I was oh so sad. But then I realized that I had two hours for a lovely nap and I felt better immediately.
This morning I was almost late for work, cos it was so difficult to get up. Although the alarm clock did fall down on my nose.



Of course something happened and already one of the two blessed hours is gone away. I gave some food to the fish and realized one was missing. They like playing hide and seek. But this one was really missing. Until I saw him floating upside down and, even to a non fish expert like myself, obviously dead.



He was the one that wasn't eating well, so I wonder, what did he die of? Was it the heat? Was it because he didn't eat enough? Was it because he was overfed? Was it because he was too weary with this life? Do animals have so many choices regarding death or are we the only ones? What an irony if I should be responsible for his death by overfeeding him.



Tonight will be the end of my days at the restaurant. And hopefully the end of the sleeping pills to control the daily panic attacks. I'll send them a postcard in Thanksgiving or Halloween from Boston. Maybe go to visit in December, but that's about it. No awkward goodbyes. The few I care about in there already know or will know or, well, will forgive for not knowing.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE SO SAD?

Just came back home... and it's only Thursday. But let's be positive. Two days to go. Then get paid. And then to Italy and to the seaside. Get a nice tan, sleep as much as I want, take thousands of pictures, relax and no need to hurry.
I am incredibly tired, but I can't take the sleeping pill, so I know that I won't sleep. I have to get up in three hours to go to the doctor, so if I take the sleeping pill I'll miss the appointment. But with no sleep I'll be a zombie the whole day, cos I won't be able to take a nap in the afternoon, cos I have to go to the other doctor... Oh, Italy, no doctors. Just real people. The sea. Nature. I hope the place we are going to is small and not touristy. I hope there are lots of trees and sand and rocks and hills. Not too many people, not too many buildings. I always feel better in Italy. It always calms me down. It's an oasis. But of course, afterwards reality comes chasing me...
Tonight, outside the restaurant, there were parked a Lamborghini, a Ferrari and a Rolls Royce, together. I was waiting for a colleague who had promised to drive me home cos it was so late. So much luxury, pride, money and vanity in those three cars. Is it necessary? My colleague, Igor, drove me home in a motorbike. It was exhilarating. I think it was the first time I really go in a motorbike and it was great great great. I have decided that when I save up some money and I stay somewhere long enough I am gonna buy myself a Vespa. I have always loved them and now I know the feeling of going with the wind. I like it. Not the same as horse-riding, of course, but I'll have that at Mount Holyoke.

Y AHORA TENDRÉ QUE SALIR A BUSCARME ALGUIEN QUE ME ARRANQUE DE CUAJO LA PENA

de alguna manera tendré que olvidarte,
tengo que olvidarte de alguna manera.

(Quique González)

YOU'RE A DRUNK AND YOU'RE SCARED

Look. Narcissus reborn. A strange little girl blue. A little ghost, disappearing. Getting thinner and thinner every day, and this time not even on purpose, not really. I promise. Although we all know that we can't trust that.
Just a week away from the end of my martyrdom (...) at the fancy restaurant and my holidays with Diana in Italy, seeing Dario again. Only a couple of colleagues know that I won't be coming back on September. That maybe I won't ever see them again.
So I have issues letting go. That's not really news. I knew that since I was four, since my grandfather died. Now, because I can't harm myself in more direct ways, I mix alcohol with all the pills I am taking. I wonder if Mom was like this too. I wonder if I'll end up like her. I really really don't want to. I don't want to. And yet there is something that drives me to do these things that ... I wish I could have some kind of revelation, or even believe that some kind of revelation is possible.
I spent the whole night awake. First trying to fall asleep. Then listening to music. Then writing a heartbroken letter. Then reading. Then making a list of things to do before going to Italy. Then filling up some forms. Then cutting up som magazines. And there is no time for a nap.
Some of my colleagues are on drugs even at work. And some of them believe that Spain was better under the fascist regime than now. Can they still be considered good people? I am too preoccupied with morals. With good and bad, with extremes. But I just don't understand. It is so hard. I don't want everyone to feel and think like myself. I don't believe that I'm right, that I'm the perfect model of virtue and goodness. But they were praising fascism because of its lack of liberty. I just can't see how that is good. And their talk about immigrants... Why don't people realize that I am an immigrant too?
The world is a cruel place. Someone commented that maybe I am the monster. Yes, but I am a small monster, small and defenceless. If I could just understand why things are the way they are...

I JUST WANTED YOU TO LOVE ME

Dear all,
Apparently I have been granted with a visa to go to the US next september and follow my dreams once again. Become a professor, study at an elite university, drive through Route 66, discover another horizon... I am really glad. Not done with the paperwork, still stressing about it and not prepared to think about health insurance and payments and trembling about airports and suitcases, but it will be worth it.
But until then, there is this. There is here. There is now. And of course we hate it. Why do I do it? Time and again. Against my better judgement. Against everybody's better judgement. I get the wrong feelings for the wrong person and then suffer and suffer, and keep suffering even if there is nothing to suffer about. I force myself to bleed. I push myself to be in love. And I cry. And I always die of heartbreak. And I'm always treated badly. Or at least I think so. I manage to believe every lie, every stupid lie that has ever been said. I believe everything and feel so betrayed. And then I still forgive. And I still beg for affection, for someone to hold me and protect me from the monster.

ADORABLE CRAZY CREATURES

NIGHTS IN THE CITY

I NEED TO SLEEP ... in a bed if it's possible. If I go on like this week, I'll fall asleep at work or in the bus or walking on the street or just pass out. How can someone manage to go to the doctor every single day of the week? I don't know, but I've done it. And then to work, and then social life. And all in this infernal heat. I HATE IT.
So here are some pics. Just so you can all laugh. Enjoy.


Two of my good-looking friends... one of them is actually quite gorgeous, but I leave you to guess which one.

This is me, looking interested in something I completely forgot about, so obviously I wasn't that interested.

Modern art, found everywhere nowadays.

Me, trying to look like an 80s girl.

Me again... Not my idea to take so many pics of myself, but I do like this one.

Diana's 80s look.

Creepy monster wall.

Diana and me, never able to get a good photo together.

A very spiritual Marcos

A pink lady.

HURT

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