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New job, new life, new principles

I even don’t know how I should start… because if I just feel that everything has changed, everything stills exactly the same… I won’t tell you too much about all my bad moments, all those humiliations that I constantly feel I have been victim last times… I mean, I won’t describe that weird sensation of sadness mixed with relief that I felt when I was finally fired for my ex-lord, I mean my ex-boss. I won’t tell you how bad were all those interviews that I’ve been attending. I won’t tell you how stupid you can feel when someone hung up the phone in your face because you can’t understand his stupid cockney accent… I won’t say anything about what is show to the people an ignorant picture of yourself just because you don’t have words to explain your truly self (if it does any sense).
In spite of, I will speak about the beginning of my new life here in London.
I am not a slave anymore… I was promoted to a serve of glebe. I guess it doesn’t make any sense written in English. I even don’t know too much about the History of England but when I remember Braveheart (don’t laugh about this example, please) I am pretty sure that this kind of dissimulated slavery also did exist here. I mean… when a Land Lord doesn’t own you as a property but he still having rights over you, when you already have rights but because you need to survive you have to be faithful to your Lord. Feudalism should be the proper word but I guess that nowadays we just use to call it of Capitalism or if you prefer the Jungle.
You have to survive!! That’s the quote! I have to survive and because I have to survive I have changed and I am now a different person. My manager (that’s one of the main points of my promotion: I don’t have boss anymore but a manager) loves me, or at least he is happy about my work. It is in a coffee shop in Convent Garden, Central London. He likes me because now I think in their benefits instead of my benefits. I understood that to be a worker is not a right anymore. You are a worker because you fit or don’t fit the employer’s interests. So… if you really want your job you must care about the company where you work… or at least you should pretend it. So… now I am the person always worried about the profit of my company. That’s why I am using all my creativity for decorate the coffee’s window with beautiful fruit and vegetable’s decorations, that’s why I am always caring about what products we are selling or not selling and giving suggestions with the main goal of increase the company profit. In a few time my life’s dream will be became the manager!!!
When I remember the Vera who was reading Brecht, Marx, Piscator and all those artists from the 60ths who dreamt about changing the world, when I remember myself dreaming about a theatre and art able to change the world I just laugh… I laugh and I feel sorry… I don’t know if I feel sorry for what I am becoming, if I feel sorry for the time I lost dreaming about this utopia.

Judit cuts my hair for her school project

Sun Through Clouds

The faces of people are so different. Everybody is special, everyone could make a great character in a film. They're just humans with wives, children maybe a dog. Running to get to work or getting home. With a purpose. Maybe their faces and bodies are all covered in veils or they're tall, transsexual and have purple hair.
A woman will ask you (on your way to murder mile) "Do you have a cigarette?" and you'll certainly answer "It's my last one" but it's not! In the city a cigarette costs 25p. She will turn her back on you, roll one of her own as you recall that queer piece of metal up her nose.
And the best way to forget it is always getting yourself in the wrong bus on the way to the City. I'm sure there will be light, for the buildings are made of solid gold and you can get infected with happiness if you accidentally touch them.
An interview with Ginger in Emerald City is just a half hour journey. It's beyond the end of the Mile, pass the grass made bridge where they held Victorian funeral marches. When you arrive there, a police man inspects the bus to make sure no one is carrying a bomb. Probably because they suspect someone is trying to explode it since it's so shiny and tall.
The winds are strong and the Emerald City, that was built on a floating island, drifts away in the river. Words embrace buildings, flowing around them like silk ribbons. They're news. It's a quarter to one, not enough time to eat your blackberry muffin and wash it down with a thick oversweet mango juice.
Ginger is nice. He and his friend take me where they turn fabric in to emeralds. They ask a lot of questions but tell nothing about themselves. "We will call you next week!" And I feel like I'm nineteen and have aged ten years in a month.

Desperated people

My theory about relationships in London has been slowly confirmed during all this time I’ve been living here but, finally, today I had the most absolutely proof that I am completely right: Every single person who lives here is desperated to find someone able to share their room’s rent but also love, sex or just company and affections.
Every day a different guy comes to speak with me in the street, at work, in the supermarket, wherever. They ask me directly where I am from and if I am single… after that they ask for my phone number. First I just decided don’t give mine and keep theirs… Now I just had decided to pretend I have a boyfriend…
I just will try to reproduce two conversations with two different guys I had met. I won’t make any comment… It doesn’t need it… they are already strong enough.

1º - It’s Sunday morning. I am working. A middle-aged looking guy comes and asks for a beer. I give him a beer. He asks about my nationality. Then he goes away.
He comes back during the afternoon. Asks for a beer and then:

Guy – So… are you working tomorrow?
Me – No... actually tomorrow I free… I don’t work
Guy – Maybe would you like to go for a drink?
Me (without know what to reply) - Ahh… I guess I’ll be really busy tomorrow
Guy – Of course… of course… it is a no! Of course… such a nice women like you wouldn’t go out with an old men like me.
Me – No… it’s not about that… it’s because… you know… I have a boyfriend.
Guy – Sure… everyone has a boyfriend… do you know what? I haven’t been with a girlfriend for ten years…I’m old… I am 51 years old… Nobody likes me
Me – Don’t say that… I am sure there are a lot of women who would like you…
Guy – No… I’m just old…
Me – No… do you know that you look younger? You do… you just have to meet the right person
Guy – No… the women don’t like old men… I’m 51… they want young and black men… That’s why I drink, do you know… I would give everything for a woman who comes… put her hand in my shoulder and said: I want you!!
But doesn’t happens… so that’s my life: eating and drinking

With his eyes completely lost in the empty space, the guy left his beer over the bar and went away.


2º- It was today afternoon. I was in the bus towards home. An office-dressed guy was sitting in front of me. Sometimes he looked at me. I arrived to my street and got of the bus. He did the same. In the street he came to speak to me:

Guy – Hi... can I make you a question? Are you single?
Me – What? Why?
Guy – Where are you from?
Me – Portugal
Guy – How old are you?
Me – Why?
Guy – How old are you? Are you single?
Me – I am 26.
Guy – Well… I am really direct person. I like you and I would like to see you again. Are you single?
Me – No
Guy – Are you married?
Me – No, but I have a boyfriend…
Guy – So… are you free tonight?
Me - Sorry but I told you I have a boyfriend
Guy – Yes… I know… Look… I am a really open person, so I don’t mind…
Me – Ok… but I mind… I have a boyfriend and I like him… sorry but I have to go…
Guy – Wait… we could just meet and if you like me more than your boyfriend we could MOVE ON.
Me (laughing and thinking that it couldn’t go any further) – Sorry but I have to go…
Guy – Just wait… So, how long have you been with your boyfriend?
Me – One year
Guy – One year… ok… so I guess you have already had sex with him…but can you tell me something… have you tried oral?

Fortunately my flatmate Judith was walking in the street and saved me…

As I said before I think there is no need of comments. The reality is stronger than any kind of theory… undoubtedly.

Fucking life!!

I am sorry I haven't written for too long! To be honest I just haven't written because I even don't have will to do it...
I HATE London the most of the times. So... everyone will make the question: why are you not going away? The answer is simple: I don't have other place where to go... I mean... I don't want to start everything again or go back to a place where I already was. So... I am just stayng here and try to get use to it. Because the truth is that I also hated Newcastle when I arrived there... and even Barcelona when I was working there. So... the conclusion is that the problem is not the place but the problem is just me and this horrible migrant life... I mean the job... the house, the non existence of money! I am looking for a new job everyday and attending to some interviews but Fucking Hell... they want me bubbly and entusiastic about the most fucking shit jobs that you can imagine. Can you believe that I went to an interview where they asked me: "Are you passionated about food", "Do you love cooking?". Of course my face was not vibrant of entusiasm and the guy said in a bit: "Ohh... don't tell me.. I can see in your face... I thibk this job is not for you". I just replied " But is it a kitchen job? I though was for to be just bartender" and he said: "Yes... but you should love food because it's what you will sell..." Como on!! Who loves so much food??? Just fucking fat people!
In other one they asked me: "Do you know that it is part of your job clean the toilets? how do you feel about that?" What do they expect? Maybe that I said... "YEAHHHH, I LOVE CLEAN TOILETS... IT'S MY FAVOURITE JOB... GIVE ME TOILETS... I CAN'T WAIT FOR TOILETS"
I am quite tired to be honest... and I can't even think that it will be my life. I really fell that the workers don't have any kind of rights... they are just treated as objects... like me in my job... Sometimes I just feel in the shop window. I have to wait for costummers and smile... always smile and be polite and be stoped when some costummer doesn't stop to look at my ass... be quiet when my boss is shouting at me speaking as he would speak with a donkey.
At least now I have a reason to be here: I am creating a performance with Pedro. We have already almost all structure and we'll start the rearsalls really soon. After that we'll try to sell it and go to some festivals. I think the idea is fucking great and if well done can in stage for long time. Pedro has some contacts because he is working in Battersea arts centre so he says that it would be really easy to produce it. I hope so! I can't wait for performing again... even if I kind of scared because I haven't done it for ages... I even don't know how to move anymore! Pedro the same! But I believe we will be fine! We have to.

Advantages and Disadvantages of working in a pub:

I am trying to convince Oscar to find a bar job! I really think he should to do it because everyone says it is quite difficult to find a store job (what he wants).
So I started to do a kind of list of the positive and negative aspects about that:

Advantages:

- You meet people every day.

- You get tips plus your salary.

- You don’t need to waste money for being out

- Your self steam will grow up because always there is a costumer flirting with you.

- You will learn a lot about drinks, so next party you will be able to prepare cocktails and all kind of drinks you want.

- You can drink and eat there whatever you want so you’ll definitely save money.

Disadvantages:

- Sometimes you have to meet people you don’t want and you can’t say “fuck you” to them.

- The tips are not as good than in a good restaurant and sometimes you would prefer don’t receive anything if instead of it you didn’t have to clean all costumers mess.

- You will loose your will for going out because you will feel at work in any other bar.

- You will loose your self steam because always there is an upset costumer or your boss shouting of you.

- You will be so tired that you don’t want parties anymore.

- The money they pay to you is a shit.

I don’t remember anything more else for now but when I’ll do I will increase the list. Anyway… work in a pub/ bar is a shit… and everyday I can’t avoid to think why didn’t I studied something useful… able to give me a proper job… anyway… now I can’t go back in the time…