maria

glittery shelf

the importance of smiling

Taken at Balboa Park. Ages ago.

I have to renew my visa to the USA in February. I have not set the appointment because we are going to see Eddie Izzard in January and I don't want to jeopardise the thing. There is a possibility that they refuse the visa to me because I don't have an income and Will and I are not married, so I've no way to legally prove solvency. I can see myself never crossing the border again.

This sometimes stresses me.

All document-based things stress me. I didn't even have a legal birth certificate until I was nearly 18. I mean, I had one, obviously, but it didn't have my current name, so it was always complicated and it always involved a great deal of explanations to someone who looked unfriendly to begin with, and would only get more and more annoyed as I spoke.

So. My visa will end in February. I will eventually have to renew it. Or apply for a renewal. Godonlyknows if they will approve.

you might have seen this shot before

IMG_1283, originally uploaded by maria.rocio.

And that would mean you sometimes go to my flickr page. If you do, then you know I uploaded nothing today. I had a busy day. The kids left yesterday after a few days here. They usually just spend the weekend and leave the flat messy enough when they go back home, but this was a longer stay because their dad went to china again. Not only that, but Danny was under the weather - although she felt fine by Thursday, but the doctor had said to rest for a week and she really wanted to go for it.

The week, I mean.

In any case, the kitchen was a fucking mess, clothes had to be steamed, and photos had to be processed (and I am not complaining about that at all, because they came out awesome IMHO).

This is a corrugated steel fence that surrounds what seems to be a junkyard. I love it.

the gate before the gate before the gate

IMG_0258, originally uploaded by maria.rocio.

I miss the summer already

And, to be fair, summers in Baja are fairly mild, unless you’re in Mexicali. Mexicali is near the gates of hell and they keep them open. Over here, in Tijuana, we get two, three weeks of infernal heat – I say infernal, but there are warmer places in this country – and that is that. Nice weather for a bit, and then it’s cold again.

The kids are staying over for a few days, while their father goes to china again, and I’ve had a long conversation with Danny about… stuff. Mostly depth and meaning. It’s hard, though, having a conversation about something that I struggle with so much. See? My feelings are, much like other, far more coherent people, that meaning in life is to be found in love/suffering. The thousand million crappy things I have to do in day to day life for other people. And then of course compassion, empathy, it’s all a fucking drag and yet I do it because it’s the way to understand what I do and understand my own life, feel like it all means something. This is probably why it is all so heartbreaking.

Danny feels that life is about doing stuff that you want to do. Which is… ok, she’s 14. And so I suppose she is entitled to thinking that way, except, it’s making everyone else’s life miserable, and she has absolutely no empathy. I have to guide her towards the other side and make her look at things from her brother’s perspective, from her dad’s perspective, etc. - a large part of me feels like her dad should just suffer her, because he’s a dickhead, but it would be a huge disservice to Danny, to not help her grow, and also, the better part of me tells me I want to help the bastard have a good relationship with his kids because no matter what happened between us, their relationship is sacred and it is my role to help them keep a good one. This does not mean I will not call him names (edited to add) on this here my blog, never to the kids! – and when I do - make her see it from their perspective -, I end up making her cry, which is terrible because I obviously hate to make her cry, but I understand that this is necessary. She needs to try to understand how people feel when she is mean/cold/acid. Because, I should say, she can be absolutely brutal in her comments. And I get that she’s being funny. But it’s killing them.

But I do it in pieces. Yesterday we read “This is water”. Which is very, very light, and still a good book to read to try to get the gist of it. I would love to get her reading Jose Ortega y Gasset, or Erich Fromm, but I don’t want to turn her off completely to what I tell her, and it’s just so hard to get her to stop and think, really think about things. I mean, it’s hard for me to really think about things, to change my behaviour, to do something, why not for her?

Agencia de Autos Europeos

kids are playing with a football out there, somewhere.

the pub

almost getting in trouble. almost.

I was taking photographs this morning from a parking lot at a local mall, and the cops came. OK. Just one cop. A slightly depressed and lonely one. But still. After telling me the story of his life – and it wasn’t a happy one –, he walked me to my car and let me go. Still, a cop!

so many doors, so little time.

This place is gone. I took this photo about two months before they tore it down. Of course, I had no idea they were going to tear it down, otherwise I would probably have tried to get many more photos, but isn’t that the way it goes? You never know when the last time you see someone is going to be, and so you always end up wishing you had been nicer. Or paid more attention.