tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-11-11:/MokoFeed2009-11-11T05:51:06+01:00tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-11-03:/2009/11/03/she-7300408/Riverdrops2009-11-03T18:44:20+01:002009-11-03T18:44:20+01:00 <p>She.</p> <p>She was 34 when I first met her. I was the new girl in the department. She had been in that department for a few months. The affair of the kiss with my ex-boss had happened only one month before, and she was one of the few people who knew about my situation then. She was always ready to listen to me and to give me some advice. We worked together for almost one year. Then the company didn't renew her contract and she left. </p> <p>She was 34 when I first met her. A bit short. Blue eyes. Blonde hair that was beginning to grow again. She had already lost a breast when I met her. She didn't want anyone to see her scar, but I did. She trusted me.</p> <p>She was 36 when she died at 7.30 this morning. The cancer had reappeared this year. She died at home, with her husband, who left his job in the last weeks to take care of her. As far as I know, they loved each other madly. Their son is six years old. She was so crazy about him. </p> <p>She was 36, and she will always be 36 from now on. Or will not. To me, she will always be the smiling blonde girl who listened to me when I had problems, when I needed desperately someone to talk to. I didn't have the chance to tell her about my life now. I didn't have the chance to listen to her. Last time I saw her was many months ago. I should have phoned her. I should have been there for her. I should have...</p> <p>I should have said goodbye when I could.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/11/03/she-7300408/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-10-22:/2009/10/22/we-found-a-flat-7224920/Riverdrops2009-10-22T19:46:52+02:002009-10-22T19:46:52+02:00 <p>We found a flat.</p> <p>We are going to be able to move in one month. I'm extremely excited about it. So many things have happened in the last year, and are still happening... I can hardly believe my life is so different. Right now I feel quite happy. I'm sure everything's going to be ok. At least, that's what I want to believe.</p> <p>It is a nice flat. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a big living room. A bit old, but good enough for us. We don't have to pay too much for the rent, and we're surely going to save some money every month. We're not going to be able to buy fancy furniture, but we don't need it. </p> <p>I'm looking forward to moving soon. I adore feeling his warm skin close to me when I wake up in the morning. I like it when we get up together and he makes coffee and makes a cigarette for me. I also like it when he stays in bed when I go to work, I love kissing his forehead while he complains, half asleep, and mumbles something like 'leave me alone... I'm sleeping...'. And I smile, I can only smile, because I'm happy.</p> <p>I want it every day. I want to know that he's going to come in through the door in the evening, after work, and kiss me. </p> <p>I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so cheesy. I couldn't help it.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/10/22/we-found-a-flat-7224920/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-10-02:/2009/10/02/a-name-for-it-7085898/Riverdrops2009-10-02T17:29:37+02:002009-10-02T17:29:37+02:00 <p>A name for it.</p> <p>I suppose that's what I wanted. To know a name. To put some kind of face to what had been happening (and is still happening) to me.</p> <p>I wanted to know why. I wanted to know what to do to stop the pain and the sickness. Now I know they will be here with me forever, but at least I can take a medication.</p> <p>My mother is devastated. It is not the worst disease in the world, but now it is too much for her. She would like me to go back to my land, to live close to my parents. I want her to understand that I need to live my own life. And I'll be ok, I'm sure of it.</p> <p>A name for it. It was not a surprise, because I had been checking my symptoms on Internet and I knew it was very possible. </p> <p>Now I know the name: Crohn. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/10/02/a-name-for-it-7085898/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-09-18:/2009/09/18/sweet-dark-grapes-6992136/Riverdrops2009-09-18T18:43:32+02:002009-09-18T18:43:32+02:00 <p>Sweet dark grapes.</p> <p>The time is coming. The grape harvest time. Summer is almost gone. My brother’s birthday is near. Every year the same. Always a Sunday, by the end of September. Every year all the family and friends gathered in my uncle’s villa, for the grape harvest. He had a small vineyard. About thirty or forty people could do almost all the harvest in only one day.</p> <p>My aunt and my mum in the kitchen, preparing a great lunch for everyone. My grandmother sitting down the sunlight. My brother and me, just two children, helping the others with the harvest. Some other children we knew. Some other children we saw only that day every year. Running up and down with baskets full of grapes. Eating secretly some of the dark treasures we were carrying.</p> <p>I remember the laugh. Everybody looked happy. Lunch time was the best. I still see the grapes on the table. Bread, cheese, tomatoes, lots of meat, and laugh. </p> <p>I was so sad when my uncle decided to get rid of the vineyard. How many years have past? I can’t remember. He felt too old and too tired to take care of the vineyard and my cousins didn’t seem to be very interested in it.</p> <p>I don’t miss my land. I don’t even know if I miss my family. But somehow I miss my childhood. I miss those days when everything was perfect, and happy, and there was nothing to worry about. </p> <p>I suppose that’s the problem of having a happy childhood. The world you find later on is a bit different…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/09/18/sweet-dark-grapes-6992136/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-09-03:/2009/09/03/blindness-6885240/Riverdrops2009-09-03T19:07:11+02:002009-09-03T19:10:00+02:00 <p>Blindness</p> <p>I was talking to my mother on the phone, a few days ago. Talking about money, basically. Then I mentioned that my Blue Eyes and I are probably going to live together by the end of the year and, of course, it is going to be good for our pocket. She's happy if I'm happy, and I know my parents liked him.</p> <p>Then she started talking about my ex-boyfriend. She said (and of course I knew it) that she and my father never liked him. And then she explained to me some things that my ex-boyfriend did and said by the time my parents came to visit me, seven or eight years ago. I was really surprised, because I don't remember any of those things that really shocked my parents. How could I not see it at that moment?</p> <p>Many years ago, one of my best friends came to visit me as well. She came with her boyfriend (today her husband), and they met my ex-boyfriend. I remember nothing strange from that visit. Everything was fine. But when I talked to my mother on the phone the other day, she talked about that.</p> <p>After her visit, my friend and my mother met by chance one day. They talked about me, and my ex-boyfriend. My friend told my mother that she had felt so sorry for me. That, of course, worried my mother a lot. And some days after that, my mother phoned my friend, trying to know something more. I've no idea of what they talked about. But my mother always believed that he mistreated me.</p> <p>She asked me. Again. She asked me if my ex-boyfriend mistreated me. I said no again. And I said that she had always been wrong about that. Of course there are some things I never explained to my mother. Because I didn't want to worry her, and because I would never give her the satisfaction to believe she was right. She wasn't. I never considered he mistreated me. That would be a true insult to those women (and men) that are living this serious problem.</p> <p>Anyway, leaving aside these nuances... How could my friend say she was sorry for me? That happened long time ago, many years before the affair of the kiss that completely ruined my life... or was it ruined before?</p> <p>How could I be that blind? Why didn't I see what was so obvious for everyone else? How come I lived with him for so many years? </p> <p>Why didn't I think 'God! He's a f<strong>*</strong>g bastard!'?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/09/03/blindness-6885240/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-08-27:/2009/08/27/scottish-accent-6835475/Riverdrops2009-08-27T18:23:06+02:002009-08-27T20:34:44+02:00 <p>Scottish accent.</p> <p>An Irish boy was laughing at me a couple of nights ago. He said it is funny I'm getting a Scottish accent when I speak English, considering I've never been there. He's not the first one to tell me. Another Irish and an English boy were laughing at me some weeks ago, because of the same reason. I just say it's my teacher's fault. But, to be honest, I like it.</p> <p>I don't even know which words I use sound Scottish and why. I'm trying not to say 'wee', although one day I'm really going to forget that the word 'little' exists. Really. But my English knowledge is not enough to distinguish accents. An Irish boy and an English man were trying one night in a pub to make me say which one of their accents was the best. 'But what's the difference!?' I had to say.</p> <p>Well, it's true I hear some differences when I listen to different accents, but it is really difficult to know where they are from. But I hope I'll be able to do it in the future.</p> <p>And who knows, maybe one day I might go to sunny Scotland and feel like home with my Scottish accent! I'll keep practising.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/08/27/scottish-accent-6835475/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-08-14:/2009/08/14/the-colour-of-the-sea-6722338/Riverdrops2009-08-14T13:22:48+02:002009-08-14T13:22:48+02:00 <p>The colour of the sea.</p> <p>Some people need to feel unhappy to be able to write. Sadness is a great inspiration many times. I think I'm one of those. I haven't written here for a long time, and it's probably because of one simple reason: I feel happy. </p> <p>I realized one wonderful thing yesterday. His eyes...</p> <p>(those lovely slightly greenish blue eyes)</p> <p>...have just the colour of my land's sea. I saw it so clear. His bright eyes looking at me, his hair covered by the salty water, the sun in his skin. </p> <p>Our last day in my homeland, by now. One week is so short sometimes. Our plane landed last night. Back to the routine. </p> <p>Everything's the same, but at the same time, it's different.</p> <p>I'm happy. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/08/14/the-colour-of-the-sea-6722338/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-06-26:/2009/06/26/hope-there-s-someone-6397491/Riverdrops2009-06-26T14:31:41+02:002009-06-26T14:31:41+02:00 <p>Some songs exerts a strange power over me. There's one particular song that makes me cry inconsolably: 'Hope there's someone'.</p> <p>I can't explain the feelings it causes inside me. Something related to my meaningless existence, the absolute despair, the solitude. The years passing by and the bare hands. The dark empty horizons. A vain past, a difficult present, a hopeless future. Nothing. I feel the nothing inside.</p> <p>One man said the only thing that really transcends our existence is what we leave here behind for the others. What am I leaving behind? What have I done for the others?</p> <p>Today's one of those days. I haven't seen a single face yet. I don't feel really sociable today.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/06/26/hope-there-s-someone-6397491/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-06-25:/2009/06/25/i-like-the-sound-of-rain-6391325/Riverdrops2009-06-25T20:56:28+02:002009-06-25T20:56:28+02:00 <p>I like the sound of rain. I like seeing the lightnings. Counting the seconds between lightning and thunder. I like hearing the thunders.</p> <p>I like summer storms. So noisy, so powerful, so warm. </p> <p>I close my eyes and I see myself years ago. I see the storms of my childhood's summers. I don't know why, but in my mind, summer storms are strongly related to an specific place. There's no other place like that in the whole world. I've been in many houses, I've spent a lot of time in many places. But there's a house which I especially love. My grandfather had a little villa, close to the coast. My summer memories are always linked to that house, to the well on the back terrace, to the vine arbor which doesn't exist any more. I remember the nights having dinner on the terrace, listening to the radio, sitting under the starry sky.</p> <p>And suddenly, the storm. Warm water falling impetuously from the black clouds. Leaving in the air that particular smell of wet earth. I remember the gas lanterns, the night walks after the rain.</p> <p>It's raining. I like the sound of rain. I have no dinner on the terrace under the stars, I haven't got that smell in the air. I haven't got the night walks, the lanterns, my grandfather's stories. But I close my eyes, and I listen to the rain. The rain is the same. The sound is the same. My summer storms come back every year.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/06/25/i-like-the-sound-of-rain-6391325/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-06-09:/2009/06/09/routine-and-change-6271312/Riverdrops2009-06-09T18:48:28+02:002009-06-09T18:48:28+02:00 <p>Routine and change.</p> <p>The company where I'm working is going through serious problems. Redundancy again? I don't know, but it's being rumoured. Lately I'm a bit scared because in my department the work has dramatically decreased. How long is this going to last? </p> <p>What would happen if I lost my job? I've been thinking of it during the last weeks. I wouldn't have been worried if it happened some years ago, but now... well, you all know the difficulty of getting a job right now.</p> <p>Anyway, I'd have an unemployment benefit at the beginning, so the situation wouldn't be extremely serious. That is not what worries me.</p> <p>Why am I worried now? Changing my job would surely entail a change of routine. I've got used to a routine in the last months. I like my routine. It's comfortable and easy, and I've learnt to love it. Maybe because my routine (and my life) in the last two years was a complete disaster, I've got used to this new one so easily and I've clung to it this way. I'm afraid of a change. I don't want to change something that is working well. At least, it is working well for me.</p> <p>I guess I'm growing old and becoming a bit more intolerant to changes. Or maybe I'm afraid of losing what I've got.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/06/09/routine-and-change-6271312/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-05-13:/2009/05/13/riverdrops-6110773/Riverdrops2009-05-13T20:52:53+02:002009-05-13T20:52:53+02:00 <p>Riverdrops</p> <p>Tuesday morning. Working. The radio is on. A vulgar radio station with vulgar music. Some of those ballads that people in my country seem to like so much. I say something about it. A workmate says I'm not romantic.</p> <p>I'm not romantic! She said that because she knows I like rock, and punk, and that I don't like that kind of songs that only say "I love you and I miss you so much", you know what I mean. And she also knows that I don't specially like romantic films. In fact, there are many famous love films that I've never seen and I'm not going to see.</p> <p>But, I told her, it doesn't mean I'm not romantic. And it doesn't mean I don't like many other musical genres. And I like love songs and ballads, of course, if they are good. </p> <p>That way, we started talking about music. And I found myself talking about a singer-songwriter quite well-known in my country, whose music is very quiet, and soft, and his lyrics are so special...</p> <p>Some hours later, I knew he was dead. He died that morning. He was too young to die. I was so sad. He's the one. One of my favourites. My nickname and the name of my blog come from him, from one of his songs. </p> <p>I would like to try to translate it into English. I know it's going to lose all the magic it's got. And of course, there is no music here. But I can tell you the music is relaxing, calm and sad. At least it is for me.</p> <p>This is the song. Hope there aren't too many mistakes:</p> <p>Dark night, keep me from fear<br> because between seas, water of river I am.<br> Labyrinth that confuses the understanding<br> of the one who carries mud and sand in his heart.</p> <p>Soft breeze, keep me from the cyclone<br> because between winds, stem of spike I am.<br> White Moon, white is my devotion,<br> in your eyes I wanted to look at myself.</p> <p>Woe is me! Woe is my ambition!</p> <p>And there I remained sitting next to the path<br> while the water of the river was splashing me.<br> Thousands of dreams, just like mine,<br> Thousands of drops of water of river.</p> <p>Woe is me! Woe is my ambition!</p> <p>Freezing clean clear water,<br> take me to the sea.<br> Freezing water, in other waters<br> I wanted to find myself.</p> <p>And there I remained sitting next to the path<br> my life, muddy like the water of the river.<br> So many memories, just like mine,<br> bathed by those river drops.</p> <p>And that way, I fell asleep next to the path...<br> while the muddy water of the river was passing by...<br> And that way, I fell asleep next to the path...<br> while the water of the river was muddy passing by...<br> Thousands of dreams, just like mine...</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/05/13/riverdrops-6110773/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-05-11:/2009/05/11/but-today-s-not-monday-and-sadness-doesn-t-scare-me-6099122/Riverdrops2009-05-11T21:06:41+02:002009-05-11T21:06:41+02:00 <p>But today's not Monday, and sadness doesn't scare me...</p> <p>These words (in another language) came up from my car's radio. The song sounded sad and melancholic. I had never heard that song. I think I had never heard that voice. A man's voice, probably a young boy, was singing those words with such a sorrow in his intonation that it really touched something inside me.</p> <p>In that precise moment, I was driving through the street where my ex-boyfriend has a garage. How many memories came to me! We lived in that garage, years ago, for some months. It was funny until winter came and it was too cold to stay there, and we found a flat for rent which we could afford.</p> <p>I suppose that I was happy there. Those months, more than seven years ago, were happy and easy. Many times I've driven through that street, but the door is always closed. But it was open then, so I knew he was inside. He's the only one who's got the key. I had one, before. I had things in that garage. I guess he might have thrown them away since I'm gone.</p> <p>I don't know how to describe my feelings. I don't miss him. I feel sorry for many things, but I don't miss him. I was just suddenly touched by that song, and that door that I hadn't seen open for months. I knew he was there. He didn't know I was there. I felt guilty someway. Again. Just for a change, you know.</p> <p>I should learn how to talk to people. I should learn to say the right things, in the right moment. I should learn to use words. I should learn not to be afraid of words.</p> <p>Words can hurt. Words in the air, words that come to your ears, words that go out from your mouth. Words can hurt. </p> <p>Unsaid words can also hurt. Words kept inside. Silent words. Words that appear on dreams. Dreams of Words. Words that I've said, sometimes, when nobody can hear them. Words I've wishpered softly, just moving my lips, closing my eyes, secretly, because I know they would slowly kill me if I didn't let them go.</p> <p>Words can hurt. A song can hurt, and can heal.</p> <p>But today, my friend in the radio, is Monday. And sadness does scare me...</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/05/11/but-today-s-not-monday-and-sadness-doesn-t-scare-me-6099122/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-05-07:/2009/05/07/life-happiness-6076916/Riverdrops2009-05-07T18:40:51+02:002009-05-07T18:42:42+02:00 <p>Clean water for goldie Gilbert.</p> <p>Few weeks ago, at last, I finally got internet at home. One of the first programs I installed was Skype. It's really nice and strange. And one of the first things I saw on Skype was Gilbert. Gilbert is my wee Scottish boy's golden fish. He had put clean water in the fishtank and showed it to me through the webcam.</p> <p>Gilbert is a happy guy. He doesn't really care if the water is clean or not. He doesn't even care if he has no food for days. He seems to resist everything. He's always happy. I'd like to be always happy, just as Gilbert.</p> <p>I'm a bit soft lately, and I feel like crying many times. I can't explain why. I almost cried some days ago watching a f** Coca-cola advert on tv. Well, that's not true. I actually did. And I've cried watching some films, and listening to some songs. I feel very sensitive. I can be extremely happy and suddenly feel deeply sad, inexplicably.</p> <p>I should phone my ex-boyfriend someday, to know if he's ok, and to apologize for the way I left. I've been saying that to myself for months, and I never find the right moment to do it. I guess I'll never find it. The truth is I'm afraid of what he could tell me. He might know by now that I'm going out with someone else. I think I'm afraid he could ask me something about it. I couldn't lie to him. And I can't be bothered explaing anything.</p> <p>But I don't know why I feel sad sometimes. It's not only because of that, of course. I guess it's something natural and inherent in me. Yes, I think there's a mental illness called manic-depressive, that fits very much with my feelings sometimes. My ex-boyfriend sometimes told me I should visit a psychologist, but I think it's not that bad. I also have my little ways, my little peculiarities...</p> <p>(my blue eyes says he likes them)</p> <p>...I've learnt to live with them, because they're harmless. But I guess all that turns me into a bit weird person. Or not. I think everybody's weird somehow. Normality doesn't exist.</p> <p>But man, I only want to feel happy. Like Gilbert with his clean water.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/05/07/life-happiness-6076916/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-04-29:/2009/04/29/expecto-carnis-resurrectionem-6030760/Riverdrops2009-04-29T18:11:18+02:002009-04-29T19:38:34+02:00 <p>Expecto Carnis Resurrectionem.</p> <p>Or how long it takes to a body to decompose.</p> <p>More than one month ago I talked about the street full of cats. Only one or two days later, one of the cats was dead, probably knocked down, on a side of the road. He looked as he was asleep, laying peacefully under the sun.</p> <p>He's still there. He, or whatever it remains from him. Now he looks like a thin hairy rug...</p> <p>(Where's the f<strong>*</strong>* cleaning service in this part of the town??!!)</p> <p>...and few days ago somebody touched it. Who touched it? Who moved it? Maybe children, playing with everything they find. There are blocks of flats only some meters away from there.</p> <p>Expecto Carnis Resurrectionem.</p> <p>That's what's written over the main door of the local cemetery. It's located in the same road, some hundreds of meters from the cat's body. That body is never going to be in a cemetery. </p> <p>Is somebody waiting for its resurrection?</p> <p>Is somebody waiting for my resurrection?</p> <p>I'm afraid the answer is no. I've been tempted by agnosticism, but I'm afraid I'm completely, absolutely, surely atheist.</p> <p>How could I believe in anything similar to the idea of a 'soul'? What's a soul? Who's got it? I've got it? When did we start having a soul? In which point of human evolution there was a monkey who, suddenly, had a soul? Who can believe that?</p> <p>The last thing I want to do is to offend somebody. I only needed to say what I feel. </p> <p>I don't feel upset for not having a soul. There's nothing to worry about. Sometimes I'd love to believe in all those things most people believe. Believe that our life isn't just an accident. Believe that someday we're going to see again those we've loved and lost.</p> <p>I'm envious somehow. I can't believe that.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/04/29/expecto-carnis-resurrectionem-6030760/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-04-08:/2009/04/08/two-years-two-stories-5911805/Riverdrops2009-04-08T17:11:43+02:002009-08-27T20:29:31+02:00 <p>Two years, two stories.</p> <p>I haven’t talked very much about my ex-boss. Two years have passed since then. When we were discovered, he wanted to keep seeing me, and it was me who decided to finish that story. He even hinted at me that he could leave his wife if I asked him to do it. But I would have never done that. I never really loved him. And he knew it.</p> <p>Curiosity is an awkward business. Curiosity made me check again an old e-mail account where he used to send e-mails when the affair was over. But I stopped checking that account some months later. To my surprise, the account was full of e-mails. He never stopped sending them. The last one was sent only one week ago. He still says he loves me. I don’t understand how he could love me, if our affair was only a few days long, it happened so long ago, and we have never met again. In this last e-mail, he says he can’t stop thinking of me. Of course it’s flattering. I was always the ugly weird girl of the class. I always felt that way. I’m not used to this. I guess he has just idealized what happened. </p> <p>He was always good at words. He was the kind of guy who always knew what to say. Maybe because of that I felt flattered two years ago. Somebody wanted me. And I just let myself go; trying to hide from a relationship that already wasn’t very good at that moment. I think his marriage wasn’t very happy either. But I never loved him. Not as he wanted. Not as he needed. It was a mistake.</p> <p>Two years. My life is so different now. And I’m so afraid. I’m afraid the tables are turned now. I’m so scared of being in a similar situation but exactly on the other side of the story. I’m scared of feeling something that is unrequited. I’m sure he knows how I feel. And I don’t know what to think or what to do.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/04/08/two-years-two-stories-5911805/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-04-06:/2009/04/06/the-dream-of-words-5898956/Riverdrops2009-04-06T12:45:55+02:002009-04-06T12:45:55+02:00 <p>The Dream of Words.</p> <p>Dark night. No lights. No stars. I guess my eyes are closed. Not really sure if I’m awake. Then I hear a voice. The voice says something. Next morning I realize I was sleeping. It was just a dream. A dream with words. Only words. No images at all. Many weeks have passed.</p> <p>I said nothing, about my dream of words. I didn’t understand it. I was just thinking if I will ever explain it. But I don’t think so.</p> <p>I forgot something. If you don’t want to feel disappointed about someone, you mustn’t expect from people what they can’t offer to you. The point is just you have to know what is in everyone’s hands to be given, and what not. It’s as simple as that. And I forgot it. It was my fault.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/04/06/the-dream-of-words-5898956/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-03-26:/2009/03/26/talking-about-strange-days-5836075/Riverdrops2009-03-26T13:41:48+01:002009-03-26T13:41:48+01:00 <p>Talking about strange days.</p> <p>My company is a chaos today. We knew it would happen someday. They had been talking about that for months. Restructuring. We just didn’t know how many people and, of course, who was going to be fired…</p> <p>We had a meeting with the general manager at 9:30 this morning. And everything started. A whole part of the company is going to disappear. Last year the company made a huge loss. Too many millions. We would have gone bankrupt if stockholders hadn’t decided to invest some more money. But a part of the company is going to disappear. The thing hasn’t finished. There are two new meetings this evening. I don’t know if I will still have a job at the end of the day.</p> <p>Strange, strange. Girls crying all over the building. Improvised meetings in the offices. </p> <p>Strange, strange. I went to the warehouse this morning, and I saw one the boys who works there. I see him there sometimes. He asked what was going on here in the office. I quickly explained the situation. He asked my name. I told him. </p> <p>‘When are you going to give me your phone number?’ </p> <p>‘I’m not going to give you my phone number’ </p> <p>‘When are we going to go out for a coffee? Are you married?’ he said while he was holding my hand and looking at my ring. ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’</p> <p>‘No, I’m not married, but yes, there is someone. And we’re not going to go out for a coffee’.</p> <p>Jesus! What a day he’s chosen to ask me out. Well, I’m not going to go out with him anyway. I don’t even know his name. I only know he’s foreigner, maybe from Russia or Poland. And anyway, I’m not really interested now.</p> <p>In short, this day is being really odd. And it’s not finished yet. Let’s see what’s going to happen!!!</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/03/26/talking-about-strange-days-5836075/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-03-24:/2009/03/24/strange-day-strange-feelings-5820014/Riverdrops2009-03-24T13:40:10+01:002009-03-24T13:40:10+01:00 <p>Strange day, strange feelings.</p> <p>Today would have been our anniversary. We would have been together for eight years if I hadn’t left him three months ago. I’m not sad anyway. I know it wouldn’t have been a happy anniversary. As it wasn’t last year. I bought a present for him, last year. He didn’t, and I knew he wouldn’t. And he told me that it was a normal day, that he had nothing to celebrate. </p> <p>What he had is what he wanted. There’s nothing else I can say. Still hurts? I’m not really sure. I’m sure he’ll be all right. Maybe he doesn’t even remember what day is today. He was never good at that kind of things.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/03/24/strange-day-strange-feelings-5820014/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-03-23:/2009/03/23/silence-5813770/Riverdrops2009-03-23T13:45:06+01:002009-03-24T08:08:27+01:00 <p>Silence.</p> <p>Sometimes I feel I don’t really want to talk to people. I don’t know if it’s good or bad. I just know sometimes I don’t want to. I guess I’m a bit antisocial. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel good with other people’s company. I just don’t know what to say.</p> <p>It happens even when I am with my blue eyes…</p> <p>(in fact, some sort of greenish blue, and God, they looked so beautiful yesterday when we were walking together under the sun)</p> <p>…though it doesn’t mean I’m not feeling happy or comfortable. I wouldn’t want him to think that I’m bored, or that I’m not interested in what he’s saying. I love listening to him, talking to him. But sometimes I don’t know what to say. Maybe it’s because of the language as well. Sometimes I don’t know how to say what I would like to say. But it’s not only because of that, because it also happens when I’m with people who speak my own language.</p> <p>I was thinking about that today. I believe I wasn’t this way before. What’s happened?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/03/23/silence-5813770/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-03-10:/2009/03/10/a-street-full-of-cats-5731094/Riverdrops2009-03-10T17:47:48+01:002009-03-10T17:47:48+01:00 <p>A street full of cats.</p> <p>Every day I drive through a street full of cats. I drive slowly, because I don’t want to hurt any of them. But also because I love watching them. Sitting on the pavement, lying under the sunlight, playing, or doing nothing. They look so lovely, so touchable. And I can’t help feeling deeply sad. </p> <p>One of the things I miss the most of my old life is my cat. I miss my cat. I loved him so much. I had to leave him when I went away. I know he’ll be all right, because my ex-boyfriend loved him as much as I do. But I miss him. I miss my little man, who’s been living with me for more than seven years, whom we found on a street when he was only two months old. So small, so thin and dirty. My little man. Maybe the only man who has sincerely loved me in the last few years. No conditions, no regrets.</p> <p>By the way, weeks ago I had the results of my First Certificate Exam. 85%, so I had an A. I’m quite happy. It could have been better, but I can’t complaint.</p> <p>Well, I’m going home now. And I will drive again through the street full of cats.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/03/10/a-street-full-of-cats-5731094/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-03-03:/2009/03/03/dreams-5686196/Riverdrops2009-03-03T14:16:06+01:002009-03-03T14:22:27+01:00 <p>Dreams.</p> <p>I’ve been thinking of writing, these days. I have tried to do it indeed. I scribbled some words in a piece of paper several times, but all of them landed on the bin. I don’t know what to say, and I’m never satisfied with what I do.</p> <p>I’ve been alone for some days, because the one who was my teacher went back to Scotland to see his kids. I had a lot of time, and I tried to write. But I couldn’t. Sometimes I am afraid of being too transparent, because I don’t know what he has inside his heart.</p> <p>Instead of writing, I was putting in order some of my books that were still in the boxes. And there I found some old notebooks where I used to write my thoughts when I was younger. Ten years have past. I started to read them and I suddenly realized I haven’t changed at all. Everything that was in those notebooks is still inside me. I thought I was older, maybe wiser, surely different. It’s so odd to see I’m still the same stupid girl who never knew what she wanted. Perhaps I am not exactly the same. Perhaps then I was a bit more optimistic.</p> <p>I want to share with you one thing I wrote 8 years ago because, when I read it again some days ago, I was surprised about how much it is related to the last post I wrote here. It is funny how similar they are. I’ll try to translate it into English, because I obviously wrote it in my own language:</p> <p>‘I dream of wide fields of green grass, with tall trees dancing in the wind. I dream of deep and blue seas, of unachievable horizons, of skies full of light.</p> <p>I dream of populating my memory with all those happy memories, of storing those little pieces of life in some corner of my mind. I want to store forever the special memories I keep with affection. Memories of moments that will never be erased. Moments when I felt free, happy. Moments, maybe only seconds, that you suddenly know you’ll remember all your life.</p> <p>I remember to be sitting on a wooden fence, on the top of a hill, and observing in front of me a huge undulant field of fresh green grass, shaked by the breeze. I especially remember the roaming shadow of clouds strolling over it, caressing the grass softly, as an affectionate hand that tenderly brushes what it loves the most. As only the clouds can caress, with their fresh cloak of winding shadows. I remember them, covering the field, alternating with the warm embrace of sun.</p> <p>I can hardly remember where it was, nor how many years have past. I only know I was a child, in an undetermined day, probably at the end of spring or the first days of summer. I had never been there, and I’ve never gone back. I only know that there, suddenly, sitting on a fence on the top of a hill, a vision appeared in front of me. A vision that discovered for me what beauty, happiness and freedom were. And I knew, in that moment I knew, that I would always remember it.</p> <p>That’s one of my most valuable moments. It will always be with me. I love that memory with special devotion. Because it fills me not with yearning, but with hope. Hope of finding, through my life, much more moments like that one, much more places like that one. Hope of discovering day after day more beauty around me. Hope of finding that feeling of unequalled peace and freedom, which makes you feel drunk, alienated, and floods your heart and fills you. That feeling, so warm and so dense, that can even be touched.</p> <p>I want to fill my existence with all those memories of beautiful places, of deep feelings, of loved and smiling faces, of friendly hands over my hands.</p> <p>I dream. </p> <p>I am a dreamer, and I dream.’</p> <p>October 8th, 2000.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/03/03/dreams-5686196/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-01-29:/2009/01/29/stars-5467501/Riverdrops2009-01-29T09:07:54+01:002009-01-29T09:07:54+01:00 <p>Stars.</p> <p>It happened one night, decades ago. I was a child. It was a summer night. Not a single cloud in the sky. No moon. The place was an esplanade, close to the forest where we had our tents, and at the shore of a small lake. I lied on the ground, just looking at the sky. And it happened.</p> <p>Hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of stars were right above me. Shining bright, still, beautiful, covering with a faint light that little part of the Earth where I was. What an incredible feeling, to have a look to the past. Those stars shined maybe even before the life appeared on Earth. And I felt deep in my heart the enormity of the Universe and the insignificance of my existence. But it was wonderful, awesome, and in that exact moment, I started loving the stars.</p> <p>I can’t explain how much and how many times I’ve missed that starry night and that feeling. I’ve seen stars again, but never like that night. Never that clean half circumference, absolutely black, populated by millions of stars that shined millions of years ago. How many times I’ve wished to lay under a starry night like that one.</p> <p>When the lights first went out and the darkness came inside the bedroom to take care of our dreams, the stars shined again. Fluorescent plastic stars, raised from a white plaster sky, started to shine over us. And I had to smile. I was lying under the loveliest starry night of the world. </p> <p>Although he didn’t know, he gave me back my missing stars.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/01/29/stars-5467501/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-01-23:/2009/01/23/moving-5431725/Riverdrops2009-01-23T15:21:51+01:002009-01-23T15:21:51+01:00 <p>Moving.</p> <p>It is strange and nice to discover you’ve got friends you didn’t realize they were your friends. I mean, I’ve been so lucky this month. When I left my old home, with nothing in my hands and nowhere to go, some of my workmates offered me a place to live while I was looking for a new flat. I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. So, for the last month I’ve been living in a house that one of my workmates offered me. She doesn’t live there, so I had a little house in the country for my own, for as long as I needed it.</p> <p>Yesterday I took all the rest of my things to my new flat, so I said goodbye to that house that’s been my home (for free!) for more than one month. I am so grateful to her. I’m not a very sociable person, and I don’t know how to tell her how grateful I am, but I will try to find the way. The funny thing of this is that I didn’t consider this workmate as a true friend. But she’s really surprised me. This kind of surprise is just so nice. It makes you trust in mankind.</p> <p>All of my things are in my new flat now. Inside cardboard boxes, but all of them are in my new flat. It’s a nice feeling. I’m going to have some financial problems to afford the rent, but it’s worth it. It’s the only thing I can do. I can’t buy a flat. I can imagine the banker’s guffaw if I tried to ask for a mortgage. But now I have my own little flat for my own, and I’m starting a brand-new life. It’s so scary anyway. </p> <p>And I’ve got my lovely Scottish smile I could never get tired to see. But that is also scary. Good but scary. Sometimes I feel so nervous when I think of him. It’s such a strange feeling. His smile, his eyes, his hands… everything makes me tremble. And I know he will probably read what I’m writing, but I don’t mind. I just need to say it. I feel afraid of what’s happening, but I don’t want to think too much about that. I know I need to relax and enjoy the way.</p> <p>Sometimes it is so difficult to enjoy our lives…</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/01/23/moving-5431725/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-01-16:/2009/01/16/the-weird-girl-5388575/Riverdrops2009-01-16T13:51:09+01:002009-01-16T13:51:09+01:00 <p>The weird girl.</p> <p>Two days ago my blue eyes asked me if I have cried during the last month. It has been probably the strangest month of my life. I told him the truth: I haven’t cried as much as I thought. I cried much more before all this happened.</p> <p>To cry. Perhaps I need to cry. I try not to do it. I couldn’t avoid it a couple of times. Watching some old photos, or listening to a song, or some of these days that I’ve been completely alone and I haven’t talked to anybody. Some days ago I was inside my car, alone, and I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t want to be anywhere. I was listening to the radio, the moon was almost full and all the landscape had that wonderful blue shade that only the night can give. And I started to cry. Hopelessly. I couldn’t explain why.</p> <p>I have something inside. I don’t know what it is. It’s a strange feeling that I’m trying to avoid, I’m trying not to think of it. I only know that sometimes I feel the need of crying ceaselessly. And I don’t want to do it. I feel as if I could never stop if I started. What’s that feeling that’s making me want to cry? I don’t know. It reminds me of many things of the past. It reminds me of old times, when I was a teenager, when I felt lonely, when I was the weird girl of the class. I don’t want her to come back. I don’t want to feel insignificant and stupid. I don’t want to be that weird girl who always felt unhappy.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/01/16/the-weird-girl-5388575/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-01-08:/2009/01/08/old-acquaintances-5344510/Riverdrops2009-01-08T17:18:29+01:002009-01-08T17:18:29+01:00 <p>Old acquaintances.</p> <p>Some days ago I received an e-mail. It was from my ex-boss (that one of the kiss) and he was saying that he had known what had happened and wanted to talk to me. It seems he wants us to be friends. Friends…!</p> <p>I’ve told him I don’t want to talk to him. I want him out of my life. I want to forget everything that has happened. I need to forget the last two years of my life. And that, of course, includes him. </p> <p>Friends? Can he even believe what he says? I’m sure he hasn’t told his wife that he’s written an e-mail to me. I don’t think she would be very happy if she knew. No, I don’t need more shit in my life. I’ve had enough.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/01/08/old-acquaintances-5344510/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2009-01-07:/2009/01/07/warmer-times-5336325/Riverdrops2009-01-07T10:25:52+01:002009-01-07T10:25:52+01:00 <p>Warmer times.</p> <p>This cold comes up through my bear feet. I feel it all inside my body. I’m so tired of being cold. Waiting for warmer times.</p> <p>Loneliness is something strange. If there is something worse than feeling lonely, it is being really lonely. Dreaming of warmer times.</p> <p>Stuck in time, watching the course of things. At last I found soft lips to kiss. Warmer times approaching.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2009/01/07/warmer-times-5336325/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2008-12-29:/2008/12/29/night-walk-5293741/Riverdrops2008-12-29T15:52:13+01:002008-12-29T15:52:13+01:00 <p>Night Walk.</p> <p>I went home on Christmas. I was in my parents’ house for three days. How strange my town was to me. Every time I go there’s something new. Streets are changing, shops are changing, I am changing…</p> <p>I was walking home the other night, after a dinner with my friends. I didn’t go straight home, I just walked around, surrounded by night half-light. I walked slowly, looking at the old buildings of the centre of the town. There was nobody, just as I like it. So many memories came to my mind. Some were better than others, but it was really good to remember. Old loves, old friends, old avenues, old benches... Everything seemed old. </p> <p>I’d want to go back home, if I had a home. I don’t feel home anywhere. I’ve always wanted to find my place in the world. I’ve always felt I didn’t belong to anything, to anywhere. </p> <p>I feel just embarrassed to write now, because there is one person who knows about this blog. One person who knows me has read everything I’ve written. Maybe he won’t read it again, but maybe he will. Of course it was me who told him about this, but maybe I shouldn’t have done it!</p> <p>Yes, he’s my blue eyes.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2008/12/29/night-walk-5293741/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2008-12-15:/2008/12/15/i-just-did-it-5225101/Riverdrops2008-12-15T10:53:25+01:002008-12-15T10:53:25+01:00 <p>I just did it.</p> <p>I woke up on Saturday morning and saw it all so clear. I told my boyfriend I was leaving. And so I did. Goodbye. I went out to buy some boxes in order to pack all my things as soon as possible, but the shop I was going to was closed. So I had to change my plans, and didn’t know where to go.</p> <p>And I phoned my teacher. But that’s another story. </p> <p>There is a song in my head, turning around, making me smile. Especially one sentence of that song is repeated in my mind once and again: </p> <p>‘I know tomorrow’s shining bright, just like the sunny morning light…’ </p> <p>Oh, that’s so true.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2008/12/15/i-just-did-it-5225101/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2008-12-11:/2008/12/11/uncertainty-5202449/Riverdrops2008-12-11T11:24:11+01:002008-12-11T17:22:46+01:00 <p>Uncertainty.</p> <p>Mankind is strange. If we haven’t got problems, we just make them up. I acted so childish yesterday that I can hardly believe what I am doing. </p> <p>English classes are finished already. On Tuesday I had the last one. Now it all is already finished. My teacher is not my teacher any more. We talked again at the end of the class. Maybe my mind plays dirty tricks on me. I thought he really wanted to see me again. He asked me if I am single, and I told him I’m living with my boyfriend but things aren’t going right. He said he would call me someday to go out for a drink or something (with my last year’s teacher too). Well, and I went home.</p> <p>Yesterday was a strange day. I did the last part of the First Certificate Exam, so it’s all over at last. Just have to wait for results. But at the evening, it all exploded again. My boyfriend had been sad and cold all day long. He didn’t kiss me, and he refused me when I tried to kiss him. I was really tired. I couldn’t stand no more, and I told him all the things he had done yesterday that I didn’t like. I told him again that I wanted to leave. We were arguing for hours. He said that he doesn’t want to lose me, and that he wants to try. He cried as a child and begged me not to leave him. He promised he would change his attitude and asked me to try to change mine for one week. He said he would show me in one week that things can go better, that we can go on if we love each other. I told him that I don’t believe it. </p> <p>I went out for a walk. I needed to think. I needed to see my teacher… So I walked for half an hour, until the time he goes home. I waited for him outside the academy, and we talked for one hour. We had never talked for so long. I don’t know why, but I explained him a lot of things about my boyfriend and what had happened yesterday. We walked towards his home, and when we arrived he asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to have a drink. I told him I should go, and so I did. He gave me his mobile phone number, and told me that I can call him if I want to. I guess he finds me pathetic. </p> <p>I went home alone (it is very close to his flat really). If I had went out to get things clear, they were even more uncertain. What does he want from me? What does he think of me? Surely he thought I was so childish. In fact, I feel so childish. I don’t know why I waited for him, why I needed so much to see him. It’s all so silly, because we don’t know each other at all!</p> <p>How is this week going to be? I don’t know. I’m not sure to be able to behave with my boyfriend as he wants me to. I can’t think only of him, because it is my teacher who occupies my thoughts. But I can’t tell my boyfriend. If he knew how many things I’ve been hiding, including this blog and all I have told my teacher… I don’t want to imagine it. He hates I talk about him to anyone. Not even to my family or to my friends. He says that if I want to talk, it is him whom I should tell my doubts to. </p> <p>The main question isn’t if I could have another relationship. The question is if I could live alone, because even if my blue eyes wanted something with me, it is impossible to know if it would work. Relationships are very strange things, and love is something I am not sure that really exists. </p> <p>Will my blue eyes call me? Somehow I would prefer he didn’t. How could I explain it to my boyfriend? He would be so jealous! He wouldn’t believe me at all if I told him that he’s only a friend.</p> <p>Will I call my blue eyes? I’m such a fool that I know I will do it one day or another. But I shouldn’t do it, should I?</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2008/12/11/uncertainty-5202449/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>tag:riverdrops.blog.co.uk,2008-12-05:/2008/12/05/the-world-is-shining-5167196/Riverdrops2008-12-05T13:20:12+01:002008-12-05T13:20:12+01:00 <p>The world is shining, fresh, warm, old as time, new as the present moment. Today I could touch the sky, I could even believe there is a god or whatever somewhere, playing with our lives as if we were toys. Today I am not able to erase the smile from my face. Today I feel absolutely insane, and I don’t mind. Today I am the worst person in the world, and I have decided that I don’t care at all.</p> <p>Yesterday I arrived home trembling and my heart was beating so fast I could hear nothing else. Why? I don’t know!!! Well, I do indeed. But the reason is so small that I can’t understand why I feel this way. </p> <p>Yesterday could be the last time I see my English teacher. Next Tuesday there is class still, but maybe I won’t go. Therefore, when the class finished yesterday, I wanted to talk to my teacher…</p> <p>(my delightful bright blue Scottish eyes)</p> <p>…for a while, as I always do. I know he is friend of the teacher I had last year. She was a very nice Australian girl, and I asked him if he still sees her sometimes. He said he does, and I asked him to send her my regards, because I haven’t had the chance to meet her since she is working in another academy. He said he would and then he said that, if I gave him my phone number, he could give it to her and so she could call me if she wanted. Of course I did give him my phone number.</p> <p>There isn’t much more to explain. Isn’t it stupid? I went out flying like a bird, wondering if he will ever call me. We talked about aging (at last I know how old he is!). He will be 39 next week. I will be 31 next Sunday, so he’s 8 years older than me… Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? I know that nothing that he told me means anything, but I had a feeling inside. The way he talked to me, the way he looked at me, the way he smiled… I thought I was going crazy, I only wanted to touch, to kiss, to bite his skin right there.</p> <p>Now it isn’t in my hands. It is his turn, if there is something. Maybe I will never receive his call. Surely it should be better I didn’t. But I am mad about him. Today I can’t control myself, today I feel happy as a child.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://riverdrops.blog.co.uk/2008/12/05/the-world-is-shining-5167196/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>