Chewing gum for the eyes

Like a piece of chewing gum on your clothing, dreams stick in my head when I awaken. I am used to being fuly awake as soon as I become concious in the morning, and often remember my dreams despite the sudden awakening. Like a habit. But lately when I waken, my body feels so heavy and disorientated. And all I know is that I have to get out of bed now or I will be in trouble. Like when we were kids and were late for school. I don't want to obligated to anyone, I don't want to live a life where tardiness equals less worth. And I will be even less inclined to get up if I carry on thinking like this.

So instead I roll out of bed and drag my bruised body over and out the door. It must be 16 degrees at 7am yet I stand shivering before the mirror, brushing my teeth and wondering if it's true that toothpaste can give you an appetite. But I still can't eat in the morning because I get sick. Anyway, I make up for it during the rest of the day as I swallow everything in sight. I trust my body (sometimes).

The pattern to my work is pleasingly zig-zag. 3 blocks down, three across. Four, if you include Plaza Catalunya which I could cross, but I only do when it's wet because then I can skate it. There are all kinds of interesting skips along the way, which reminds me that I will go skip browsing some day soon after work. I need some space fillers for my rooms, and I would love to have stuff to make and paint.

Magic dusk falls early here. I will miss the sunlight until 11pm that we have in Ireland, although the light is not everything I suppose, and it is fantastic to be able to walk around in the heat here and enjoy it. On Sunday I went to the beach but ended up in the park (I know I already mentioned this), but it was so peaceful. It felt like I was inside and everyone else outside, and I was shielded against them all be virtue of being so completely alone. I don't think I will ever love the idea of being alone, but it is certainly alluring. Watching foliage that no-one else watches sprout and grow. Living so completely in the moment. My ex-boyfriend used to reproache me for my ability to relax. He couldn't. He envied how I could relax completely for five minutes or ten, and then carry on again. When I did theatre, it was my party piece that I could sit doing nothing like nobody else. They would bring in others to watch me do nothing traquilly and without effort.

The obvious part is that I am sensitive and nervous and shy and out-spoken and part-outgoing and part-introvert and it is the middle of all these traits that make me able to relax. And unable to make a decision that is real and meaningful. That's why I always wonder when I read in the papers about politicians talking of "real and meaningful dialogue to further peace in the six counties and the Republic of Ireland". What do they mean? Cos all I see is poor people with their generations of ancestors behind them without time to reflect on pretty words and betrayals, because they are too busy trying to make bread out of hope.