maria

we remember things

We keep things because they remind us of other times. Whether these times were happier or not, who's to tell? You think they are good times and then they turn out not as good as you thought or would have hoped for. Going through boxes with necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, thinking of where you got them or who you got them from becomes travel.

Danny: Where did you get this from?

Me: An airport, I think. I was travelling, that I know.

Danny: Where were you going?

Me: Home. Probably. I probably wanted to remember something.

Danny: But you don't remember.

Me: I remember I was happy. So that's enough remembering.

Danny: But you're happy now!

Me: It's never the last time you're happy. It only seems that way.

Danny: You're really just a happy, cheerful person.

Me: Yes, I am.

But we don't need things to remember. We just do. Remember. We need things as amulets. We hold on to them because they will hold on to things for us. Moments, like pictures in our heads.

the birthday

We went to San Diego yesterday - I believe we mentioned on the twitter - to celebrate Efraín's birthday. We had bought him a couple of t-shirts as presents - I tried to find the other shirt but it is just not there. Sorry. - and we went to this Japanese buffet thing for dinner. We stuffed our faces. It was so bad I thought I'd fall asleep during the drive back. And I was driving!

So but after the thing we went to their home for a few beers - I don't drink when outside of my home, so it was just them having the beers, but I always have fun. Later on in the evening, more people showed up. Things were strange for a bit, there. One couple we had met during the Christmas eve post dinner party and they were... pretty much the same. She appears bitter and he is very sociable. Last night we learnt he is a lawyer. The other couple we had never met before.

I was worried for a bit about Will. Sometimes it happens that the conversations in Spanish go too fast and he can't really even begin to consider catching up, and he gets really bored and annoyed - and who wouldn't? - but then, suddenly, he is out in the back patio and all of the men in the party are around him, listening. And understanding him. And laughing.

And I'm not surprised. He shines. He is a beautiful man.

*Unrelated pictures of him in the kitchen, cooking dinner. How sexy is it that he cooks dinner for me? Very.
Very, very sexy.

letter writing

We spent all day yesterday at Starbucks. We had dropped the truck off at the service garage and we didn't want to come back home only to have to get to the garage again later. This gave me the opportunity to write to Miguel. He has written me 4 or 5 letters and I have yet to send one. OK, I did send one last year, but technically I should have written loads more. I just can't find the time.

He asked me a few questions in his last letter and one of them was actually for Will. He asked me how Will felt about my parents. I don't think I had ever spoken to Will about that. I mean, yes, of course we had spoken about it, but not with the precise interest of finding out how he feels, but more like we will both rant about the latest stupidity coming to us all the way from Torreon. Like the whole "suing my father's estate" thing, which just sounds like my father had an estate, which is a preposterous notion. Or the "travelling around the country with the both of you for two weeks", which my mother wants to do. As if. I mean, of course I said yes, because I don't want to have this argument over the phone, but there is just no way it is going to happen. What would I do, stuck with my mother for two weeks? What would Will do, stuck with this woman he doesn't know, and hates for being unsupportive, for two weeks? Insanity. I know what she wants, and what she wants would have been ideal when I was 20. Not now.

In any case, that was a long conversation. Essentially, he hates them for not being supportive, for deeming my opinion on all matters "Will" unimportant and having to "check for themselves" whether he is an internet axe murderer or not. Which, my thinking is, if he was, he would have gotten round to it already, wouldn't he? But, OK, so that's what they do. He also fears the consequences of being around them on our relationship. Like if we argued whenever we saw them. Which is possible, but not likely. I don't know, he would disagree with that statement.

There was a moment when I realised how impossible everything that was happening was. I was sat in Tijuana, at a Starbucks, with a man whose voice I had heard for the first time nearly 3 years ago. A man who lived thousands of miles away and that I would have never met if not now, if not because of all the incredible coincidences. It is absolutely mindboggling. I get to listen to his stories and watch the way he moves. I am still surprised.

holidays

We had a plan. School is out for the spring break and we had a plan. We were going to pay the credit cards and leave the truck in the shop, that way it would be ready by, say, before the 20th, so we could go out with Efraín and Ileana to celebrate his birthday, and then have some time - and a better idea of where we are financially, after the repairs on the truck are made - to be able to get Danny a present - it's her birthday on the 23rd, a few days with the kids, more days of laziness and then the break is over and we go back to normal.

Already we've fallen behind. The hope is now that the shop gets the truck done quickly, which good luck with that, you know?

In any case, it's hard to get to the computer. Just so you know. Today I have to sit down and write a letter to Miguel. He wrote me a letter - he's written several - and I haven't written back. I have written, but sporadically, in a notebook and I just haven't sent anything. So the plan is to round up what I have written, give it some shape and send it along. It's weird because his life has changed quite a bit since he wrote - we spoke via telephone recently - and so it's like being able to travel back in time to a month and a half ago.

I should tell him that he wasn't happy. He's not happy now, but he's moving forward, which is better than not doing a thing about it.

normal

People tell me their problems. This has been discussed. And they tell me how they feel about them. We know that, also. We still don't know why, but that is irrelevant.

A few of my friends are going through similar situations. They are ending long-term relationships where there are children involved. They are crushed. They are ending these relationships because they need to get out. Their relationships are killing them emotionally and they are not looking to be with someone in particular after the deed is done - although for at least one of them there are plenty of prospects -, they just want out.

But when I say they are crushed, I have to say, they are crushed in such different ways. From the "I feel like they've torn my heart out, like I would be better off dead, like I should have died rather than done this, even though I know I have to" to "I feel a bit sad when I'm with the kids". What makes the way we react to what could be seen as the same situation so different? What is normal?

I was crushed. Crushed. I felt short of breath all the time, I cried in my sleep, I wanted to die. I am incredibly grateful that Will was around to help me because I don't know how I would have managed without him. I see other people going through this and their reactions are always so different.

One of the women involved has the same "larger issue" in her relationship than I did. And this has made me look at the thing again. Was it really that? Because, while I know it was at least partially that, I am not sure that that was all of it. I think what happens is that there is that and on top of that you make jokes at my expense with our friends? or, there is that and on top of that your mother's a bitch to me? or, there is that and on top of that you are wanking in the bathroom at three in the morning?

Maybe I've said too much with that last one. Never mind.

Where I was going is that sometimes there is that, and whatever happens besides that is intolerable. Having to put up with anything besides the larger issue at hand becomes too much. You begin to think that that is all there is. And there is so much more. My ex and I had so many other problems it was ridiculous. We had completely different styles when it came to raising the children, we liked to spend our leisure time differently, we found each other irritating, so many other things. And it was easy to blame that.

When Will got here he was afraid that once I "got over it" I would see that life could be different and I would move on. I have no intention of ever leaving him, he is my life. Yes, because I love him, but also because we are good together. We talk, we are good to each other, we are good around each other. It is just such a good relationship.

And I wonder if everyone starts out like this. In a really good relationship. I mean, because, obviously, none of these people decided to marry/be with each other in an attempt to fuck up their own lives. They all loved, they all wanted the thing to work. How does this happen?

My mother told me the other day that all marriages work the same. Some years of excellent, 40 years of horrible, and then it goes back to good. 40 years of horrible?! Who the hell has 40 years to waste on horrible? My natural response is to say "you've never been married 40 years!". To which she replied "It's a statistical fact".

But there's statistics and there's statistics, right? The fact is, in statistical studies, the people in the sample who divorce no longer apply to the statistic as married, so you can't count whether they are happy or not, they are no longer part of your sample, so what you have is people who are happy together and stayed married saying that, yes, they are happy together. So the average goes up for everyone. So. No, it's not 40 years of horrible. It's as many years of whatever you get as you can take or have. If it's wonderful, then it is. If it's horrible you either work on it or move on. But nothing says it will be great after 40 years, and nothing says it won't be. Yes, it's what we make of it. Which cheers me up.

the mobile

So you must have heard about my mobile. Here's what happened. At some point Saturday, someone stole my mobile. I didn't realise I didn't have it until Monday, because I mostly use it to communicate with Will and  I was with Will, so. The first thing I did was try to talk to the person who stole my mobile. This is because ideally he is not a thief but rather someone who found it on the street and didn't have the common sense to try to find the owner. Now that the owner has found him (or her), maybe he will give it back.

That, of course, failed. This person was quite happy to have my phone and keep it forever and ever. Because it was cute. And it played music. Except. I have all the accessories. And it was a Sony Ericsson and god knows what a bitch it is to figure out what type of connector you need to just charge it if you don't have any idea in the first place. I mean, I knew because they came in the box with it. And the earphones. I have them. I pointed this out and told him I was completely willing to let him keep the phone if he only just gave me the SIM card, so I could have my contacts back. And my messages. And stuff. He refused (This is the polite version of the story, he was very vulgar and had a voice like a girl, so it was a bit jarring and if I hadn't been trying to convince him to give me my phone back I would have laughed). He then disconnected and when I tried calling again the phone had been shut off. This could be because he shut it off or because it shut itself off, because it had been doing that lately - it was time to change it, really, it would just shut off, no notice, no anything. With a fully charged battery, even -, and in any case I didn't want to have any discussions with this person ever again. So I did what any normal person does, I blocked the SIM card and reported the IMEI (International Mobile Equipment Identity number) as stolen.

So now they own a cute paperweight.

The phone company has given me a new mobile - which is not the same brand as the old one and doesn't play music. I could have gotten one that did that, they had a whole range for me to choose from, but I just liked this one - and given me my old number back, so I don't have to memorise a new one, and I of course have taken note of the IMEI again, just in case.

(to get the IMEI off your phone, dial *#06#. You don't have to talk to anyone, you don't have to push anything beyond those keys, the IMEI will appear on the screen, write it down. Far as I know, most countries already do the whole reporting thing so that the thieves don't use phones that are reported, but you have to report them. No one would steal mobiles if they could not use them afterwards)

guest post

Hi, my name is Will and I'm posting on Maria's blog.

Under protest.

Maria is in the television room. She loves you all - yes, even you, the creepy, scary, stalker-type who just reads her blog and never comments (she checks her stats donchuno). She loves you and she misses you. She wants to post. She really, really wants to post but she can't be arsed to get off the sofa, crawl to the keyboard and type.

She's tired.

Calm down. Not tired of life, not tired of you, not tired of blogging, just tired. She really, really wants to post. She wants to talk to all her loyal readers - and the creepy, stalker - but she just can't tear herself away from the "Two and a Half Men" episode that she is watching at the moment. She's tired. So, she's asked me to guest post.

Here goes.

A post on Maria's blog.

Something that will interest her readers.

Something that will grab their attention and make them focus.

I love Maria's posts. They make me think. They make me look at things in a different way. They make me pause and reassess my life. She is so clever, so intelligent. She sees the world in a completely different way to the way I see it. I need to write something that will provoke conversation. I need to write something that will make her readers (including the creepy, scary, stalker-type person) stop and think. Something that will provoke conversation, controversy, and commitment (did you see what I did there? I used an extra comma because Maria uses extra commas before and in a list - I'm really trying, trying to stay honest to the blog).

Right. Something. Got to write something provocative.

On a PETA-approved list of companies that don't test on animals, one of the companies is Victoria's Secret. If (big if) Victoria's Secret did test on animals, would they ask bunnies to wear thongs? Discuss.

Oh, and creepy, scary, stalker person - if it helps you, she is wearing Victoria's Secret underwear as I type this.

Maybe I should go now.

mobile

Short post because I'm rather busy. My mobile? It's been stolen. We still don't know where to go with it after blocking it, so we will be going to the mobile offices to see what our options are.

know me. meme.

I've been tagged by lovely Helly, who isn't only lovely but also mirthful, independent, catty, hospitable, epicurean, long-haired, literary, and evil. A lot evil, apparently. Pure evil, they say. It's probably true.

And so but I have no idea who I am. I asked Will - who is wonderful. Not only that, but he is also amiable, loving, empathetic, xenophilous, analytical, nurturing, determined, enthusiastic, and responsible. Among many other qualities (and you just know not many of them begin with an 'x', unless you count him being adapted to a dry climate, which may or may not be true, as it is not generally dry here) - and he said "how about: Reading; Organised: Clever: Intelligent: another O" (which made me think of "Orgasmic", but I'm not going to say that).

I don't know. I read, so, OK. Reading. I read a lot. I learnt when I was about two or three and haven't stopped since. It helped that my grandparents owned a bookstore and it was one of those that are quirky and odd and had strange books that I always loved. So, OK. It's not Radiant, but. I'm not either, I don't think. So Reading, that's one.

But I don't know about my organisation levels. Organised. I don't know. I don't think I am that organised. I probably used to be. I was very methodical about how I did things and what I did. Very efficient. I'm not that efficient now. Or methodical. I think Will loves me and truly sees me as being perfect and adorable and so found qualities that began with those letters and suggested them because they are positive and because I asked him to. I was tempted to say Old, but I won't.

It will sound conceited - which also starts with a 'c', coincidentally - but I agree with Clever. I am mentally quick and nimble. I think it's to do with the reading. Or maybe to the fact that I was always told that I was. I don't know how much things have to do with what you are or what you are told you are - and the whole thing has become a bit of an issue since I've come to find that I have an incredible ability to transform into whatever people want me to be (clever, indeed) so that makes it kind of difficult to be whatever I am, now that no one is telling me what I should be, which is kind of why this meme is coming out so strangely.

Now, you would think that Intelligent is the same thing as clever, but it isn't. Someone can be clever without being intelligent and vice versa. Intelligent is defined, essentially, as having a high degree of understanding by the LOD. And if you consider understanding by it's very last definition, a disposition to appreciate or share the feelings of others, then I completely agree. I am always trying to put myself in other people's shoes. Which helps in some circumstances but is very limiting when it is time to be assertive. Because I will let people be insensitive and idiotic and I will always think that if I reason with people they will be better. I am eternally hopeful and believe in everyone's potential to be better.

And for the last one. I want to say Optimistic, so I will. Because I am optimistic that I can be optimistic. I am optimistic about people, I should be optimistic about life. Because I can be. And I am being optimistic.

So that's that for me. I am not tagging anyone because you know who you are and if you haven't been tagged yet, now's the time.

the visitor

A friend from college e-mails: "I will be in Tijuana for work and would love to visit". So I reply that that would be fantastic, and he sends me the data to his hotel. I call and leave a message.

Now, this friend of mine, we were in the same High School and went to the same University. We didn't become friends until the last three years of Uni and then we were really good friends and sometimes lovers - he had a girlfriend, I had a busy life, there was nothing really serious about it -. He didn't drink because, he said, he wasn't a good drinker. We knew this to be true from the photographs in the newspaper from that night when he tried to set fire to his parents' home because they wouldn't let him in.

- Thank god it was humid, it's all I'm saying -

But so when he stopped drinking, pretty much by the end of High School, he sort of got a grip on his life and he was incredibly brilliant at school. He got his degree and moved. A year later I got married and he went to the wedding. That was the last time I saw him. We don't particularly e-mail, we never speak on the phone, but then he's one of those people that you know is there. That is that.

I was happy at the opportunity to have Will meet him and have a catch-up conversation. It's been nearly ten years!

Except he drinks now. And he's unhappy about the way his life has gone. He was belligerent, stubborn, and blind. Blind in that way that you cannot see what's right in front of you, because what's right in front of you is a couple of people who love each other and are a bit scared of you getting any louder or doing something really stupid, because they really would like to be able to go back to that restaurant.

And I really would have liked it if he had not been trying to put Will down. Which is impossible, by the way, like, don't even try it because he is a master of I-don't-care-ity (he is, you should see it, it's so cool) and he is just so cool and detached, so sure of his place, that there is just no way to do it. I am so happy that he was in a good mood and didn't just punch him, which by the end I feel he was asking for.

And I really would have liked it if he had been happy with his life, because I feel that if he was, he wouldn't be looking back in a "those times where the best times and I will never get them back" type of mood. And he wouldn't have been trying to put Will down. And he wouldn't have behaved like such an incredible moron. Plus, you want to do what? Get mariachis? Because of me? Have you met me? Gah.

So we dropped him off at his hotel. He couldn't get out of the truck because he couldn't undo the seatbelt and I was scared of helping him out, that's how bad things were going. We dropped him off right in front of the lobby, I pointed at one of the bellhops: "He's all yours, now", as he was trying to find his balance after hugging Will and being not completely sure how to get out of it. I got back in the truck and we waved at him. He was standing, glassy eyed, outside the lobby. I'm not sure he realised we'd gone.

Maybe not drinking was a good plan for him. Maybe he should have married that girlfriend that he had back then, she was nice. Maybe he should have done something different at some point. But he didn't. At some point in the evening I found myself telling him that he had to take some decisions in his life because otherwise life will just take them for him. I don't think he will remember that bit.

- Of course, he's now texted me and he's forgotten all about the last three hours or is pretending he has, either way, I feel like we lived different evenings: "Gracias por todo. Traigo un dolor de cabeza que valio la pena. Sigue tan hermosa como siempre.", which, in a loose translation means: "Thanks for everything. I have a headache that is totally worth it. You are still as beautiful as ever." Damn Tequila, is what I say.