Raining money

Some people like the rain because it is different. I like it because it ushers in a kind of loneliness that I can accept and understand. The sky is that odd shade less than bright white, and the world seems less real because there is no blue sky. There is no gap between the endless grey of the city and the clouds. People stay in their own heads, and warm light seeps out into the damp streets. During the day this city doesn´t do it for me because to me daytime rain is luminous green grass and purple limestone mountains and earl grey tea and woolly jumpers that somehow don´t let the wet in and fishing on a lonely little blue rowboat. But the night draws the same silk blind over all of us, and at night all I sense is the encreased smell of foliage and the soft padding of steps at high speed through the city. The beach is damp and empty, the waves sh-sh softly along the shore with no-one to observe them. People spill out occasionally from the cinema and hurry into waiting cars or buses but the streets are free for mad speedy walkers like me, and there is no stopping.

I am someone who knows who I am and what I want. I just don´t have the wherewithall to get there. I want someone to tell me where to go, if I am going right or wrong, if I am being stupid or sensible. I can still go crazy if I like. But how can you make it someone else´s responsibility to look after and support you? At least, I have been told it is wrong.

I have started to write so many things and not finished. Not because I can´t always, but because sometimes it just goes bad and to keep writing is a farce. But finally I have an idea of what I am supposed to be doing. I think although Barcelona doesn´t suit me and I dislike working for a huge company, that I would be stupid not to take advantage of the interest-free loan they offer. I have always been someone who is better at paying back loans than saving money. So why don´t I just sort out all the stuff I need now, and then buy it all and pay it back gradually?

The situation in my flat is growing unbearable. We have no gas, and all it requires is someone to get the lads to come over with some canisters. But while the bauld Tato will happily bang around angrily without it, he will not go get any. I am in work all day so I haven´t been able. Today, Monday, I am finally free to get some and I have to ask him for money. My bank has lost my money somehow and I am unable to pay for anything til they find it. It has been over 2 weeks now, but i don´t have the heart in me to complain. Why should I change my behaviour to get something out of someone? Should I also yell at Tato? I don´t want to, and I´m the one who will carry the feeling around.

So instead I sit here dripping in an internet cafe waiting for the re-emergence of the gas guys to buy some canisters off them. Then I plan to go to the second hand bookshop and treat myself to a 3euro book from the money I borrowed from Nathalie. At least lots of people have offered to lend me, mainly cos I lent them in the past. That is a nice feeling, that you will be helped if you are stuck.

Grumpy guts

There is no snow. The days are old like dirty clothes and the trees are still holding onto their leaves like old bus tickets stuffed into last year´s pockets. Christmas has been. New Yearçs has come and gone. All were full of people and equally empty.

I wonder if I am depressed and then I recall the black pit that is depression. No, I am not. I wonder if I am bored. It is the easy excuse, or claiming that I am tired, but the reality is that I lie in bed cos I can´t think what else to do. I take out my guitar but I don´t need to play - I remember all the songs and what is the point of playing if I am the only one who wants to hear.

There is no life in Barcelona when there is no music. I go out at night only to dance and I live during the day only to play. Christmas means nothing without this. My life is effectively on hold until the band return. And I still have no drummer.

My day today has been interesting. I made my phonecalls to my family but everything I touch turns to stone and it takes several times to get through to anyone. Dani says he wants to talk to the real me cos I am always chirpy. I dislike that word. I tell him I am tired of being on my own. He says he is coming over in March. I tell him to either come or don´t but stop talking about it. i tell my father the same. Besides, I want to leave here. Dana asked me last night if I complain so much about here why do I stay? I told her that I didn´t know when I moved here that I wouldn´t be happy. Maybe the reality is that I stayed for the musical possibilities only. Maybe the truth is I dislike it here because I don´t feel I will ever meet a soulmate. That mad one I dream about. Maybe I´m a hopeless romantic. But Dana is right because what she really means is why do I complain so much? I should just get over it and move on.

So with that in mind, I intend to read some of my favourite blogs denied to me in work, and do some food shopping. I am apparently invited to dinner tonight by my lovely colleagues but I honestly don´t recall being invited. Nathalie told me today on the phone. I also mean to start Spanish classes soon, as then I will at least do something I promised I would do before I came over!