Filed under: Madrid, infatuation, live and learn, lulu dengler, rants and ramblings
When asked to list my favourite music, I always mention the ‘anything that has an angry white girl as a leading voice’ genre. Well, today I figured out that I’m a fucking white angry girl myself. No, I do not sing, fortunately.
The first time I was packed in, I wanted to kill somebody. I had enough potential energy to rock a hurricane against the whole fucking Japan islands, so I turned it into kinetic energy while I ran across Madrid for hours. Rage was my fuel.
While running, I looked at all the statues along the streets and gardens, and I wanted to be like them: trascendental, gigantic, hard, beautiful, strong, there for everybody to see.
This second time is more or less similar. I can’t keep away from thinking that if I ever win something like a Pulitzer or an Oscar or something, I should write a little list with the names of all the people who hurt (rejected, etcetera) me. Something like “thank you, because you are the indirect responsible subjects for me wanting to be more than I could ever dream of; for making me feel so down that I could only move upright.”
Of course, although I hate to admit it, I currently fantasize about my exes living in their shitty flats and having lousy jobs, with their overweight wives and at least two snotty and very loud children, going on a typical Sunday, watching the tube or reading some magazine. Of course it’s me on the cover or the main feature. “Jesus”, they’d think “I didn’t see her coming. I just let her go.” It has nothing to do with them, actually. They are good guys and deserve much more than the sad scene I just described. Surely they’ll achieve much more. It’s all about me, about my dreadful fear of being forgotten. Of having passed flat over people’s lives. But that’s the way it works, isn’t it?
And then comes the relativism. How much suffering do I need in order to feel that I want to become something big? Why do I feel so fuckin’ little if I’m actually bigger (symbolically speaking, though phisically I’m also bigger than I expected) than the 22-gal I had calculated to become? And, most important of all, why the hell do I need to demonstrate to others how far can I go? Shouldn’t be enough wanting to demonstrate that to myself and no one else? Shouldn’t I definitely change rage for something else as my fuel? That’s some stuff I thought about while listening to angry white girls rock my iTunes.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Since I started dating guys (i.e. approximately, seven years ago), I’ve come to develop a ‘type’ of the right-guy-to-date: you know, men who read books and music magazines, watch films, listen to records and new bands, have a car, go (or went, since I’m good at getting thirty-somethings’ attention) to college, have jobs they don’t like, still live with their parents, smoke, drink… physically speaking, I’d go for tall, from tough to little overweight, short curled dark haired, bearded, furry, and the list continues to ennumerate a series of average characteristics corresponding to my averageness as a girl. (more…)
Filed under: Uncategorized
I’ve felt like this before.
Now I feel it again. Here it is, the awful sensation of being rejected for the second time. Not for the same reasons as the first time it happened, but in an interesting parallel way. Obviously, the parallelism being the thing that makes you feel as if you hadn’t learned anything from your many mistakes. The first hit, it really hurt. But it was just an insult to my ego compared to this sort of heartbreak. It hurts still. The first hit was a pretty live rehearsal. This one is like dying on stage.
Except for this time, rejection also comes from mum, and dad, and siblings, and aunts, and uncles. Even grandparents. The columns in which I had placed the abstract concept of absolut love just fell apart. And, if they do not love me unconditionally, who else will? Not even myself, certainly.
Ironically, myself is the place to start and the only one that matters. That’s why I’m reconstructing. Writing. Finding my own narrative and hence logic.
