What's the point of the glottal stop anyway?

Apart from being so incredibly IRRITATING???

Offer recommended

...I am checking my Sussex account for the ...th time, and still "awaiting consideration" shining on the screen. At least, I think, they are not waiting for one or more references, as I got my tutor/supervisor/boss to write one for me and send it, and he did it on the same day. Trust "ordinary" people more than academic professors, that's my advice.
I leave the school some time past two, cold and with a cold, not feeling the tiredness resulting from a sleepless night (a cold, general worries building in my mind, random images haunting me, and my housemate coming home at 2, or 4, and slamming doors, and deciding to take a shower, and slamming more doors...nice girl, ok, but one who lets you know when she's in...). Anyway, I walk to the library, receive a call from the guys of the clerical job I was interviewed for last week, who turn me down because they've chosen somebody else, although "you've really done well, we've all been impressed" (uh-hu), and since I have finally received my payslip, life feels somehow easier, sunnier, generally improving. So much that I decide to reward myself with my very favourite drink from Pret, which is an amaretto latte, and life is even sunnier now.
I go to the computer room straightaway, and log on, start emailing people, check my "official" email a couple of times and nothing new, so I wander about just to kill time, then I start replying to Gym friend, and suddenly I think I could check my account on Sussex uni, just for fun, because I haven't done so for the past hour, and I miss the familiar "awaiting consideration" line on my application status.

Application status: offer recommended.

Excuse me?

Offer recommended.

www.my-official-email-address.it, and let's check, because one minute ago I had absolutely nothing in my mailbox. Now I've got two. Ok, one is the usual spam...But the second is something coming from the university, and it heads "your application at the University..".
Open email.

I am pasting it here because it's too beautiful:

Dear Peggy
MA in Film Studies
Entry: Oct 2007

I am delighted to inform you that following careful consideration the selectors have recommended that you be offered a place on the above named programme.
The recommendation has been passed to the University's Postgraduate Office for confirmation and a formal offer letter will be sent to you in due course setting out the terms and conditions under which this offer has been made.
In the meantime please do not hesitate to contact your School of Studies at the address below if you have any queries about your programme of study.

Hey! They are DELIGHTED! Can you imagine how delighted I am?

People I have told: my tutor from TESOL, the nice teacher of Indonesian; Ian (who replied with a text in mispelt Italian, but then called me later tonight. I love it when he calls me, because I know that, like me, he is not happy with phone calls, so I appreciate the "effort"); dad; mum; Teacher friend. Then I posted the news on my other blog, on the website of the band.

Ok.
PEOPLE! I HAVE BEEN OFFERED A PLACE ON A MASTER IN FILM STUDIES! THE DREAM COMES TRUE!
I am so happy and excited, and my mind is buzzing with thoughts. This is toooooo cool!

I am watching funny stuff on Youtube now, and start feeling a bit tired. Also, I haven't really prepared for tomorrow's lessons, but I am sure everything will be ok (Luis). Thank goodness I am still my optimistic me, in a way. Think pink.
And God bless you all.

Thinking and considering and wondering and...

...My week hasn't really started that well...I walk from home to work, a good way to start the day, get moving, start thinking, etc. Ok. Yesterday I woke up and thought I would take my rain coat, just in case, because the sky was looking pretty bad...By the time I was at the Level, I had discovered the real meaning of the idiom "being whipped by the rain"...By the time I reached Hove, a very soaked and freezing me had stopped meditating and started praying for a cup of hot tea, possibly a blanket, and a cosy bed to lie in for the rest of the day.

What I had, instead, was yes, a cup of tea. And then a hectic and confusing lesson with two new members joining our small class, and a good 1:1 with my Lithuanian guy, who's happy to talk about almost anything. Good. By then, of course, the sun had come out, and although windy, the day looked a lot better. I spent the rest of the afternoon at the library, and then walked home, only to stop at Sainsbury's for bananas and salad, and there I met Ian leaving the supermarket as I was going in. I didn't stop, just waved hello, what was the point? I had nothing to tell him, and surely he would have felt obliged to tell me something, and no, I don't like it.

Went home, had dinner (had had nothing to eat all day, only tea and more tea), then went to my room and worked for a while, got a call from dad, had a hot shower, and read for the rest of the night. I also got a message from Ian, but it seems to me, at times, that he just texts out of kindness, that in this case he would not have texted if we hadn't seen out of the supermarket earlier on. So. What's the point in replying.

I am worried about him, yes. Still. He takes an awful lot of time to adjust to things, and he gets worried about so many things, and so heavily too, even the smallest thing can built up in his mind like some troublesome circumstance that puts him under pressure, and makes him feel bad, and literally wears him out. I don't know what to do. I had texted him while walking in the rain, suggesting lists, which is the best therapy I know. I would have suggested talking, to me or to his parents, then I thought that he wants to do things by himself, he is as independent as I am, he doesn't want any help. Boy, we are so alike. It is painful sometimes. I seriously understand everything that goes on in that beautiful, cryptical mind of his. It is like reading my own. And I am still worried. Worried because he is supply teaching, which is good news (=money), and bad news, because it means having to think about lesson plans and stuff; worried because on thursday and friday he must go to London and he would probably rather spend the day in a library doing some research, although he is going to do some important and useful things in London; worried because I don't know how he's feeling, if he's still ill, if his body is tired, or his mind is, or both. Worried because...because. And I keep on thinking. Funnily enough, the tormenting images of our beautiful time in Sussex in July are...well, not fading, but getting smaller, moving to the back of my head, in some remote dusty place where there are some more beautiful moments, currently collecting dust and being silent, in this small place where things cannot move, cannot be stirred, lest they awaken too much pain in me. I am praying, every day, to have the courage to accept what I cannot change. To accept this.

It is almost working.

Finally, I am thinking about my future, but am too tired to do it. All I know is that I have this job, which I love, and my application for the master is "awaiting consideration", so who knows, I may be accepted. All I know is that I will have this job until December, and probably my contract will be renewed in January, which means money, and a job that I love, for a while; all I know is that if my application is accepted I will have the possibility, at last, to study something that I deeply love and am interested in, and to start a "career" in this field, maybe think about a Phd, who knows. All I know is that tomorrow I am teaching pronunciation and phrasal verbs to my low-intermediate group, and I have no idea of what to talk about with my Lithuanian student...

Psalm 85 (Italian) - when anguish fills my heart

Signore, tendi l'orecchio, rispondimi,
perchè io sono povero e infelice.
Custodiscimi perchè sono fedele;
tu, Dio mio, salva il tuo servo, che in te spera.
Pietà di me, Signore,
a te grido tutto il giorno.
Rallegra la vita del tuo servo,
perchè a te, Signore, innalzo l'anima mia.
Tu sei buono, Signore, e perdoni,
sei pieno di misericordia con chi ti invoca.
Porgi l'orecchio, Signore, alla mia preghiera,
e sii attento alla voce della mia supplica.
Nel giorno dell'angoscia alzo a te il mio grido
e tu mi esaudirai.
(...)
Mostrami, Signore, la tua via,
perchè nella verità io cammini;
donami un cuore semplice
che tema il tuo nome.
Ti loderò, Signore, Dio mio, con tutto il cuore,
e darò gloria al tuo nome sempre,
perchè grande con me è la tua misericordia:
dal profondo degli inferi mi hai strappato.
(...)
dona al tuo servo la tua forza.
Dammi un segno di benevolenza;
vedano e siano confusi i miei nemici,
perchè tu, Signore, mi hai soccorso e consolato.

Sunday and the church

Going to church is not good for me...
I mean, I am new to this church-going thing, and I am happy that I can finally pursue my spiritual me, and I feel that this is (again) the right choice. Just like choosing to stay in Brighton, I feel well when I think of it, and I know things can be fine. Maybe they just need a bit more time.
Last Sunday I was in Hove by myself, because Ian was travelling back from Swindon. After the upsetting Mass of the Sunday before, going there by myself felt like a brave act, but I did it all the same, and enjoyed the service, turning into my emotional me once again during the sermon (sermons have never really made me feel this way, back at home. I wonder why).
Yesterday Ian was not feeling too well, and we met for less than half an hour at the library, before he went to some pub to watch the rugby, and I went for my necessary shopping of clothes hangers, files, pens, and a not-needed but much-wanted mug. I went to a shop I had been in a few times, where there was the most beautiful mug I have ever seen. Not so beautiful, in the end. Simply white, with grey writings of "I love you" all around it. Every time I see it I think of the first week I was here in August, and of how I wanted to buy it for Ian and then thought it would have been a bit too extreme, and of how I would have liked him to buy it for me and how this was a utopistic idea. When we split up, I thought I would buy it for myself, then realised how pathetic that would have looked. Yesterday I stopped at the shelf, picked it up, checked every details, weighed it, looked at it closely for an hour, I suppose. Then I picked a smaller mug, with blue daisies all around it. It is on my shelf now, and a small teddy bear is inside, looking down at my room, and at me sitting on the bed writing this.
I heard from Ian again about today, when we had to meet to go to church, but not the one in Hove: since it's freshers week in Sussex, there was a special service, and he asked me if I wanted to go with him. Although I wasn't too sure about it I said ok, and we met this morning. Problem number one was that another girl was coming with me, the girl who's taken Ian's room opposite the street and who he helped move in yesterday. I thought that it wasn't the best thing to do, actually, especially when she is a catholic and we were going to an anglican service, but hey. I know Ian and he is too kind.
The second problem was that the service turned out to be a very original one, with us 10 people standing in circle, singing together guided by this incredible priest, who was really a character, very nice man, don't get me wrong, with a fantastic laughter, but for my emotional situation and my usual Sunday feelings...no, not too good.
The sermon once again set me for tears, and it was very difficult to hold them back. I was feeling very uncomfortable, and too many thoughts were crowding my mind, I just wanted to run away, or to cry and cry. I hate Sundays so much. Also, as we were waiting for the Mass to begin, sitting in the lounge, after the first half hour of uncomfortable silence and odd chat between me and Ian, in the lounge we were finally back to jokeing and talking decently. He asked me if I had heard from two people from the TESOL course, and I told him about them; then my tongue decided to continue in spite of my brain, and I told him about the other guy, whom I had texted because I thought I would leave to go back home on the 22nd, yesterday, but who had never replied. I changed the subject straight away, and then it was time for the service. Before the communion we were told to exchange the peace and then talk about a topic with our partner, so to get acquainted (spelt wrong I suppose) with them, and I started chatting with this sweet French woman; the priest then came to exchange peace with me. The communion was again an interesting moment, because we had to "feed" each other; the thought terrified me less than the prospect of having to say that I couldn't take it in front of only 10 people who would have wondered why I couldn't...at least when Ian turned to me I could just look at him, say "I cannot take it", and he knew and moved to the French woman on my left. Then he asked me if I was ok, and I said yes, and he held me, do you understand, his arm went all the way around my shoulder, caressing me the way he used to do. After the service, we were waiting for him, and the priest came to ask if we were going for "lunch" with them; the other girl said she wanted to go home and meet the new housemates, then the priest turned to me and asked me if I was feeling ok, "you looked quite sad back there", his hand on my arm. My voice cracked as I thanked him, said I wasn't feeling too well, a bit of a bad moment, sorry. He was very kind, he tried to make me laugh, he told me that I had to do what I felt best for me then, and when Ian came back he said goodbye and we three walked out of the meeting house. Ian asked me if I was going to check my mail, and I said I would think about it while we walked the other girl to the bus stop; it was quite cold, and he asked me if I was cold, I said "yes, a bit", and he did it again! His arm all the way around my shoulder, and I had to set the pace to walk in unison, and even on the stairs to the bus stop, when we usually changed pace, we went together. People, I was NOT happy.
We said goodbye to the other girl, and then walked back to the entrance to uni, where I said I would walk back home; he said that he was sorry that I wasn't feeling too well yesterday, I had to ask why he thought I wasn't feeling well, since yesterday I was actually fine, and he replied that since I wanted to leave..Oh no, some days ago (and I didn't want to say when exactly my idea had come up) I thought I would go back home, but then I changed my mind. Why didn't you tell me, he asked. Because I had to decide by myself, and understand what was good for me. And I like being here, which is why I am staying. (And because I didn't want you to think that I was desperate, but I didn't tell him this). He then apologised for the text he had sent me, the one which read something like "go back where you came from, I don't want to see you anymore", but whose real meaning, as he explained, was just "maybe if you are with your family and friends things will feel better". Blimey, can texts be misleading, hu? A hug (from him, not from me), and have a good day, and if you need anything give me a call, ok? Because he is still a bit ill, caughing and all. I walked home, stopping on the way to buy yogurt and choc cookies (which make me sick, so who knows why I spent 1 pound on them..idiot), feeling quite bad, feeling that we are going to have some more bad time (together). Feeling that I have upset him, that he may think that things are not too good for me, that I am staying here because of him (the sweet thing, who has lots of things to do and is not too happy, because he likes "life to be quiet, you know?". And unfortunately, as far as I'm aware, life is NOT quiet). Feeling that he may come up with some awful words like "maybe we shouldn't see each other anymore, maybe you should go back to your family, etc".
On the way back, I suddenly realised that I have left my Sunday paper at his house. Crumbs, I thought. Now I'll have to text him about it, and it will look as if I have done it on purpose! But I haven't. It didn't even cross my mind. As I am writing, I have just received his text about bringing it back to me, so I will see him in a while.
What I wanted to say is: it is difficult. And sometimes it is confusing. I know I said that I would have liked to be affectionate with him after the break-up, but then I turned into my usual cold me, who is afraid of showing feelings, and afraid that a word, a look, a friendly pat on the shoulder could say too much, even when it's not. So I don't touch him. Ever. And I find it strange that he is the one who sets up the first hug when we meet, who pats my arm, my leg before he leaves, who hugs me again when we say goodbye.
I know he has made up his mind, and we won't be together again. I know, and I am sad. Simply sad. So sometimes I wish I didn't have to see him, sometimes I just think that I could feel a lot better if I didn't see him again. Because it is painful, and almost cruel of him, to pretend we are friends, after what has happened. On the other hand, I need to see him and know that he is ok, and happy, and I worry, terribly, about all the things that I know will make him anxious and unhappy, like having too many things to do in one week, and having a weird housemate, and not having the kind of house he would like, and and and. Sometimes I think that I will stay here only until my contract expires, and then will leave, go somewhere else. But these are thougths I don't feel like chasing now. My worry now is how to talk to him, what to tell him, how far can I share my thoughts to him, not to wound him, not to upset him, not to make him unhappy; and there are things I would like to tell him, and I can't. Like how I am feeling now. Other things I would like to tell him, like jokes, which I can't, because I would probably hurt him; for example, having met this Italian guy last week, I told Ian about it, and mentioned that his father is German and his mother Italian. I didn't mention that my dad said I should go after him, and that my instant reaction was "another mixed nationality? No way, look what happened with the last person I dated, a South-African with Scottish father and English mother!". A joke, yes, but the wrong one to play with someone who is so sensitive.
I can see the uncomfortable, sad look in his eyes, sometimes, and it fills my heart with hot pain. We can be friends, but there are going to be taboo subjects forever. We are so similar, and this makes things a lot more difficult. I know that it means that I will try and be with him and see that he is happy, even when this means being alone and give him all the time and space he needs.
As long as he is happy, nothing else matters.

Feeling better?

I don’t know when I will post this, because…well, this is my week so far, and what will be of me in the next days:

After a pretty decent weekend with lots of sunshine and lots of walking, where I spent some good hours at the library reading and working on internet, and on Sunday I went to church and the service was again so good, then I rushed (on foot) to the IT centre at uni to find some houses for my piccolino, who sounded so not happy on Saturday, when he called me to know how I was. I still want to make him happy, like I do with all the people I love. Of course he, like all the people that I love, will not let me do anything for him. This makes me very unhappy, but what can I do. The best I can do is try. Anyway. So, Sunday saw me in Hove at the church, then at the IT centre, then back “home” where I spent the rest of the day, watching dvd, reading, thinking…
Yesterday, Monday, I had a productive day in school, the morning lesson spent squashed in a very small room with 14 students, the afternoon beginning my new set of 1:1 lessons with a Lithuanian guy, whose English is a lot better than his colleague of the past two weeks, so I thought that life was going to be hard on me these two weeks with him..Ideas for 1:1 lessons for an upper-intermediate, anyone?
After that I went to town, and met Ian on the way. he gave me a hug, asked me if I wanted to go for coffee, but since I wasn’t sure about it he proposed a meeting at the library, where I was going. He arrived a short time later and updated me on his days so far, what with being a bit sick, what with having rushed again and signed a contract for a house in Hove which he didn’t really like, etc. Damn! I spent the rest of the day and the evening thinking of how I could help him, of how I could make him feel less unhappy, of what, literally what I could do to make him feel better. Triple damn, this situation is wearing me out. Things could be so much easier. In the evening I didn’t really feel like watching another movie, so I started watching a dvd which I want to use for one of my lessons this week, then switched my laptop off and started thinking, sort of meditating, which is something I am doing a lot more often, recently. Walking to work also helps me in that, it takes me about 45 minutes to get to work, and finally I am back to meditating, thinking deeply, like I used to some years ago, when things were different. Anyway. That is how I spent the last few days.
Today I had two of my most brilliant lessons, both with my lower-intermediate and with my 1:1; for the latter I must thank one of the teachers who gave me the inspiration (and the photocopy) to conduct a fantastic 45-minute lesson where I talked, he talked, he took notes, it was chatting and learning. Cool. I also signed my contract, and got the principal to accept to be my referee for the other jobs I have applied to, and so now I have a job until the end of December, I am crossing my fingers for more opportunities to come my way, which is what I am working for, and more inspiration for my lessons of the week. As a matter of fact, after signing the contract I went straight to the library, had a sort of lunch (yogurt…), prepared my lesson for tomorrow and worked for an hour on Internet, where I sent the other two applications to the uni. Cross your fingers, people, ok?
Finally I went back “home”, got changed, and went to see my new landlady in what is officially my new house, since I have signed the tenancy agreement, given the deposit, on Thursday I will give the first month’s rent, and got the keys. After that I went to see my new room, which has really everything in it! Bed, wardrobe, two chests of drawers, shelves, a bedside table (!), and a desk with a chair!!! I mean, perfect. I haven’t mentioned the big big window facing the street (I’m on the first floor), on the east, which means a lot of light when I wake up…cool. I feel so relieved and excited, and the landlady is so nice and kind. So then I decided against my walk (been walking all day anyway…), went for more yogurt, went back “home” and started packing my stuff. I thought I would bring it in two trips, walking, then decided that I would ask Ian. A quick exchange of texts and we will meet tomorrow here, and everything is packed, so one round should be enough, and with a little luck my ex landlady won’t be around. I will text her in the morning, though, to let her know that I am leaving. It would be very nice if she gave me my deposit back, but I don’t really expect her to do that, so hey, goodbye 100 quid. What can I do? People, listen to my advice: don’t believe ads on internet! And, as Nelson said, the English word “nice” does not correspond to the meaning you would read in a dictionary…anyway.
So for the days to come, here’s the plan:
Move to new house
Pay the first month’s rent
Shop for food for the cosy little cupboard of the cosy kitchen in the cosy new house
Conduct three more brilliant (or decent…I’ll be happy anyway) lessons, and find inspiration for next week’s lessons too - most of my students will still be there, and I have to be imaginative and original…thankfully I am;-)
Admin things: go to bank and inform about change of address, do the same in school.
Find a doctor and register!!!
And when I finally get my payslip, go and buy some useful things like: a pillow, MY mug, a container to bring my lunch to school, prepared with the food I will have stored in the cosy cupboard of the cosy kitchen in the cosy house…
All in all, I am happy. Things are moving, moving the right way, and although occasionally I feel this stinging pain somewhere deep in me, I cannot but thank God for the mornings of sun I wake up to, and the walks to work in the crisp morning air, and the fun I have in my classes, and the good work I am able to do, and the opportunities I have, and the new house I have found, and the nice time at the library, and the second chance I have been given to live my life fully, to give it a deeper meaning that just work and numbness. I am still grateful, in spite of the pain. And as Luisa said, I have an iron “skin”, I am a fighter. And as Luis, my Spanish student always used to say, everything will be all right. I only hope that Ian will soon be happy too.

How are things going? - news by instalment

12.09.07

It hurts so much. It hurts so much. Do you wanna hold hands, he asked me, on the bench outside the library. We walked, he pulled me close, he kissed my hand. Ok, give me an Italian kiss. You’re a good person.
And I’m here alone. And it hurts.
I think I am going back to Italy. I thought this was the beginning of something good, a ray of light. I thought I could be happy. I was so wrong, and I am so sad. I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost and empty. It was so much better when I was (un)comfortably numb. Once again, I have made a mistake, and am now paying the price. It is the most painful price I have ever paid.
I want my Ian back. I want the sun of Sussex in July, the silence in A71, our hands locked together under the desk. I want the walks in the fields, him showing me to play cricket, holding me tight, saying how much happier he was now, pulling me close, caressing my wrist, my back, with his thumb. I want his kiss on my cheek, I want him to bend down, shyly, to kiss me in the morning when we meet at the IT centre or outside the class. I want his sweet texts. I want his face making fun of my pout, I want his strong embrace, I want his smile, his voice. His funny expressions. His way of clearing his throat before saying something important, his voice cracking when he is embarrassed.
He is a person like no-one. And I know that he means what he said, and he’s not going back. I know this is the end. Something in me is praying for us to be friends, when enough time has passed and our wounds have healed. We can be friends, email-friends, we are both better at writing than at speaking, and we will be apart again, and when enough time has passed we can be friends by email. I understand him so much, I have never understood somebody so much, and with little effort, all he has ever said was like coming straight out of my mind, and what he feels has (almost) always been clear to me. Yes, even when he was not feeling too happy about being together, I realised there was something wrong, but pretended to believe it was tiredness and pressure about finding a new house.
The things he said last night, of fearing to enter a relationship that would turn like the one of his neighbours (violent husband); his confusion over his feelings, which for a moment made me hope that not all is lost, when I asked if his feelings had changed. And he simply said that he’s confused. Which to me is a good sign, somehow. But I know he’s not going back. This is the end.
My colleagues at work suggested to wait, wait till he’s settled, and has begun his phd, and all, till he realises that he misses me, which he will, eventually, seen as the reason why he’s called a break is the pressure, and this man-thing of feeling somehow in a cage (after less than two months, of which 3 weeks spent apart???). I would like to believe them, really I would. But I know my piccolino, I know him so well. I know there’s no way he’s changing his mind.
Tomorrow I should receive my contract at work, see for how long and in what terms they want to have me there. In a way, I want to believe my colleagues, and stay at the school for a couple of months more, see what happens, see if they are right. But in the meantime, I have prepared a goodbye compilation for my Ian. In a way, I think that going back to Italy is really the best thing, and maybe it is a thought prompted by the difficulties I am finding here now, apart from being without my Ian: I have no money, no place to live, no family or friends, and feel generally desperate.

13.09.2007

A day after, and although I am still struggling, the fighter in me is…well, fighting. Tomorrow, God-willing, I should be given my contract, and at 5 I am going to see a room, and hopefully it will be a decent room. I have sent a couple of applications for other jobs, and tomorrow will send more, including a very interesting one in Nottingham, which I’d love to do. Fingers crossed, as always, hu? I went to the library after work, and booked a computer for half an hour. I worked, then sat on a sofa to read, and got a phone call from my (very worried) parents. More to work tomorrow. Then I went back to the computer, and for some reason I couldn’t log in as I wanted, so I only managed to be on internet for a few minutes, enough to check my mail again. And there was the most unexpected message, coming from Ian, who has recently registered on Facebook. And he sent me the request to be my friend. I was impulsive as usual (something I tell people they should do, because it’s good to do things on the spur of the moment, sometimes), and replied at once, agreeing to be his friend. How could I not agree?
Later this evening, as I was having bread and lettuce in my bed, watching Monsters Inc. for the umpteenth time, I got a text. I thought it was my mum, since I had texted her a few hours before, instead it was my Ian. Hoping I was ok. Saying that he had listened to my message which I left last night, and heard all I had said. Confirming that he doesn’t want to cut me out of his life either. Asking me (please) to let him know how I am and what I decide to do next week. Ending with the Italian expression I taught him.
I am being strong, and will not reply. Not for a while. I don’t know why, really. In a way, I don’t want him to think that I am living my days waiting for a sign from him. In a way, I also don’t know what to tell him now, because I am still looking around, trying to understand and decide what I want, what I am going to do. In a way, I probably need time too. Time to think and plan, and organise and decide, and feel better with myself. And be able to see a part of my future, at least my next six months. There are so many issues at stake, and thinking about Ian makes life more complicated. After his text last night, before I left my message to him, I was almost convinced that I would leave England next Saturday, the 22nd, because I cannot live here, with somebody in town who is so negative towards me. But then I woke up this morning, tired after yet another sleepless night (woke up at 1, 2, 4, 5…), took the bus to Hove, and the sun on the sea, and people running, and the air, and the pier…I like being here. I like being in England. This afternoon I walked to the library, and I looked at the shops, and at the Pavilion, I spent some time at the library, with the comforting noise of people whispering, the beep of the computers, and it felt good. I feel good here. I would like to try and stay here for a while.
Of course this is a thought I am having now, after a positive (more or less) day. I am still skint, I am still looking for a house and desperate about it, I am still not eating enough and not sleeping enough, I am still quite desperate when I think of the weekend to come, I hate weekends, always have, because all my friends are out with their boyfriends and I was alone. I thought things would change here, and that I would spend a part of my weekends with my wonderful Ian. Things weren’t meant to go this way. I want to be strong, though. And positive and confident that things WILL be better.
Now I’d better go and take my evening shower before watching another movie. Tomorrow I am teaching less because a new teacher will be tested on one of my lessons, so I get some time off to start planning for next week too. Cool. I like this job, I really, really do. I need time to learn to do it better, and this is another reason I would like to stay here.
Time. That’s all I need.

14.09.07

Being strong is not always easy. I didn’t reply to Ian’s text last night, and then this morning, while walking to school, I arrived in Palmeira Square and saw him getting off the bus, start walking to go to work, adjusting his bag on his shoulders, beanie on, poor sweet thing, he was cold. I saw him stop at the church, and wondered if he was going to come to the mass this Sunday, a thought that almost filled me with panic, because I don’t know what to do if I met him now.
I went to work and managed a good lesson, and then another good lesson, and then I made some photocopies, and went to the library, where I worked well for an hour before going to see the house where I am moving on Sunday. It feels good to know that I am moving away from this awful place to a better house, a better room, a nicer area. I had to call my parents, half argue with them about the usual things, ask for money to pay for the deposit and the first month of rent, etc etc. It’s just so hard.
Back to my room I had some yogurt and cereals, and while working on an application form for an interesting job as an Italian lecturer, I received a text from Ian, who is on the train to Swindon to see his family, and who hopes that I am ok, that my lessons went well. I waited for a while and then texted him back, without saying anything about me, only that I hoped he would have a good weekend with his family, to come back safe, and that I hoped things were going ok with him, and praying for him to be happy. Which I am, every single day, trying to overcome the pain of not being together anymore, trying to think that there is a plan beyond this pain and this desperation, trying to accept this horrible feeling and continue smiling, praying, working. It is hard, people. It is so hard I cannot believe. I had to shortly tell this story to yet another colleague today, and although I felt tears coming, I was able to control myself: be proud of me, I haven’t cried for almost two days now.
So ok, I texted him back, but I am still convinced that I cannot see him for a while. My idea is to wait till he begins his phd, and keep in touch by texts (as long as he starts them), and maybe occasionally by email, when the right time comes. I suppose that eventually we will bump into each other, right? Especially considering that we go to the same church in Hove. So this Sunday I will be alone, and it feels ok, because I am not ready to see him yet, and I want to be settled with the new house, sign the contract, send the applications, work for a week and breath. Next Sunday then, the 23rd, will hopefully feel a better time to meet again.
I wish I could be with him now. I wish I could share his thoughts at the end of the day, and share my thoughts with him, like we used to do; I wish I could know about his doing these days, if he’s found a house, if if if. I hope this weekend with his family will help him, make him feel better. I know he misses his family a lot, and South Africa too, I wish I could help, but you can only do so much, he told me once. I hope he will come back with a clearer, calmer mind, and deep inside of me I hope that one day we will be together again. I know it’s crazy, but I am doing my best not to daydream. Actually, it isn’t that difficult sometime. If I keep my mind occupied like I have done all today, with lesson plans and going to look for a house, and discussing with parents and planning the weekend with church, packing, moving, library and all, then it’s not difficult. But then there are awful moments when all I wish is that my wonderful Ian is by my side, holding my hand, smiling with me while we walk, looking at the sea, breathing the air, stupefied by the beauty of being together and being so blessed.
God, please let me be strong and forget this pain, please let me be peaceful and accept this incomprehensible turn, please let me be good and love you with all my heart. Please stay by my side in this time of hurt and pain, and comfort me with the thought of your love, when darkness spreads in my heart.

Hope

I am trying to find the light I have suddenly lost after finding it, unexpectedly, on a bright Sunday afternoon, in Sussex, two months and a day ago. It feels like a lifetime. And sadness is like waves crashing on the shore, every wave bringing more pain in my heart.

Nothing to add, really.
But being in church today felt particularly good, for both of us, and it helped me (and Ian), somehow. So things can be better. In a while. I suppose.

I don't know when I will update my blog, now. I am trying to work things out in my mind, in my heart, here in Brighton. I need time, a better room (possibly with a light-bulb and a desk), and time to think and understand, and find peace.

I am praying, people, for Ian to be happy and smile, and find the happiness that I could not give him, in spite of all my efforts. I am praying that he will be happy like he deserves to be, il mio dolce, stupendo piccolino.
Please pray for me too.

Let's just be friends.

So be it.
I am crying too much to be able to write anything about it. We both cried so much all of yesterday, praying, feeling strange. I went to bed in tears, woke up crying, wandered about Brighton crying, sat at the cafe' outside the Pavillion, with my cup of tea, trying to write a list of things to do, tears streaming down my face.
I feel lost.
And scared.
One thing makes me feel slightly better, and that is his text, last night, where he used an expression I had just taught him, to say "I love you" for friends. He didn't use the ordinary one, but the special one, the "love from deep inside my soul", all in capital letters.
My heart is broken, and it hurts so much. I feel lost, scared, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

I am a (scared and confused) fighter

Are we still together, I ask myself.
I got out of the house at 6.30 this morning, after another sleepless night, confused and tired. I walked all the way down western road, and when I saw bus 49 passing me by, at the time I thought I would see him, I thought I really saw him, preparing to get off. In a way, I wish I was at the bus stop, sitting on a bench and pretending to work, pretending not to see him. Then I thought that I would have looked like some psycho from “fatal attraction”, and was glad I had missed him.
I arrived at school and met my boss, who asked me how I was. Tired, I replied, didn’t get much sleep last night. Oh, I’m sorry, he said. Is it common? No, it isn’t. oh, is anything the matter? Yes, my boyfriend and I are having some kind of a break. Oh, well, I can see how that can definetely put you off, he replied again. And as I started making photocopies, tears ran down my face, uncontrolled. Then again, after my one to one, as I was preparing my second 1:1, I texted him, to ask him how his day was going, asking him if he had decided when we would meet again. I felt so stupid and helpless. I saw my reflection in the window, such sadness in my eyes. He replied almost instantly, asking if it was ok to meet tomorrow after I finish work. I said ok, please meet me there. He said again, saying he would be there, and to try and be strong, to know that I am a very special and wonderful person. Later in the afternoon I got another message, where he hopes I was ok, and “will see you tomorrow at 4 as promised!”. What about this exclamation mark? What shall I think? Is he happy? Is he prepared to be with me again? Are we together or what? How can he have changed so quickly in less than two weeks? I read his card of the day I arrived in brighton, I read his texts of all these days here, together, and now I am asking myself what the hell is going on. And I am so scared, so confused. And I cannot see him before tomorrow afternoon, at four o’clock. Thank God I have so much to do. Thank God I have to work and prepare my lesson, thank God I have had a good feedback from my observation, so I could spend some time feeling good about what I am doing, and I could receive mum’s call and speak normally for a bit. I don’t feel well at all. I am broke, alone, and my heart is broken.
I’ll see what happens tomorrow. My questions to him:
- Are we still together? As in, are we still a couple?
- Are we together because you want us to be, and want this thing to grow?
And then, I know we both need more time for ourselves, less time together, especially while we are trying to sort things out, find a place to live, and all the other stuff. I understand, I know, I am prepared. But this thing we’ve got, this thing he has said is special (and he said it on Tuesday, so he is aware of it), this thing is too special to waste it. We must work on it, grow it, fight.
Fingers crossed. I feel so bad. I’ll walk home now, take a shower, try to relax again. Fingers crossed.
Fingers crossed.

Sleepless in Brighton

This is the title of the original post which is on my desktop at the moment. I wrote it last night, at 3 o'clock, after waking up in tears. I am not happy.
I am scared and confused, and for the past 5 hours I have cried, almost everywhere: on the beach, where two guys stopped to ask me if I was ok, in the street, at the bus stop, on the bus (while three punks wearing their low-waist trousers and nothing else played loud music and swore on the phone and to each other), on the way to the IT centre, in the IT centre as I was emailing a friend from the TESOL course.
I am so scared, people. And confused.
How can somebody go from the sweetest of messages, the most recent being on Monday night at 23.28, which said "thanks for being so wonderful***LOVELOVELOVE***" to talking nonsense about being in love, trying to rationalise feelings, trying to reconcile expectations (yes, we all wish we were married to George Clooney, but can we?) and stuff. In the end, I asked him if we are together. He said yes. Two months on Saturday. People, two months! Two months is nothing! And he is already worried about the future, about being able to provide for a family, about so many unreal things, he is only 25 for God's sake! And yes, the age thing came out one more time...then again, he could see the point of...no point about it!
I am trying to be positive about it, I really am. But my only thought is that this is the end, and I am here, in Brighton, alone. My friends at home are not my friends anymore, it's been like this for a while now, they all have their boyfriends, their lives, I am nothing. I cannot go back. I am not regretting moving here, and the fact that I could find a job two days after arriving proves that I was right. But Ian. My wonderful, sweet, caring boy.
He needs time to adjust to this new Brighton life, and he misses his family, and South Africa, and he is thinking about his phd, and he is looking for a room, and he would like to dedicate more time to his teaching job...I am trying to give him more time, because I see that he needs to be by himself a while.
But I don't understand. I am so confused.
I am so scared.
This is a hard time again, I am tired. I am also trying to find a room to move, but not being a student is a bad thing in this city apparently, nobody wants to give you a room. And I spend my days wandering around the town, thinking that in my current room I don't even have a light bulb, and I cannot cook, the kitchen is untidy and dirty, and I have to walk miles on a top hill, in the dark. I don't mind walking on the top of a hill, but...you see what I mean.
Anyway. I am checking for hotels now, because after all some are just as expensive, and at least you get clean sheets every day. I'll give myself time until the end of the week, and then if I haven't found a room, I will book one in a hotel...at least I will feel like some bohemian writer...