A blog by Krista.
-
I have been working from home for almost a year now and I can say that,
without a doubt that I love it. Not driving around wasting time at the
drivethru...
5 years ago
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Messing with history
I know, the dangers of writing when tired but since when was Leonardo da Vinci famous for David, well since Michelangelo sculpted him and I got the great men mixed up, that's since when. Oh well if I have an excuse there is a lot happening, but god, am I embarrassed.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Pizza Pasta Pisa Pastis
Well there I was minding my own business strolling through one of the many gateways of Pisa, when I saw it. I was stunned. I had seen photographs, postcards, drawings, etchings, images both moving and still, documentaries, in fact all sorts of representations, but nothing prepared me for the reality that is The Leaning Tower of Pisa. I was stunned by its beauty, but most of all by the angle at which it seemed to threaten to crash down onto the square below. How it manages to defy gravity is for more scientific minds than I, but it is certainly a spectacle to behold. If you have never done it, go visit. Along with the Cathedral and Bapistry the plaza of Pisa, is an amazing site. There is not one straight line or right angle in the whole set of construction.
Now I was thinking of working in something about eating Pizza in the plaza of Pisa but I reckoned it would make a clumsy sentence, and besides, I ate pizza elsewhere.
The food in Italy is half the price it is in Nice, which incidentally is half the price it is in Dublin. So basically by European standards it's very cheap. At one restaurant, at the top of a mountain, at the end of the track, at which there was nothing else but this restaurant, four of us ate, pasta frite, which is deep fried dough, pasta with mushrooms, wild boar with a selection of fried vegetables, two, desserts and coffee for all, and two bottles of wine, which my host assured me were very rude, for the princely sum of 48 euros. Let me put this in perspective. As I walked along Rue de la Buffa with Joe Bagent today and my son, we stopped at a small eatery. We ordered a litre of wine, two plates of carpaccio de beouf, one dessert, two coffees, and the price was the same.
I am still off the cigarettes.
Not even a drag, a puff, a toke, a sniff, a pull, nothing. But I have started drinking pastis (finally). ?????
Italians are a funny people. They claim to be the best at everything. They are a very proud, beautiful open people, and their claim at being the best, is not so much a statement of arrogance. It's plain fact (in their opinion). This is strongly opposed to the French way of stating they are good at something, which is to ram it down your throat, so strongly in fact that you begin to wonder are they afraid of you finding out it's not at all true. The Italians don't have this fear as it just isn't a problem.
So imagine my surprise when I realise the leather market in Firenze, is not the only thing this particular town has to offer. You see it was only when my companion pointed out to me that the statue I was admiring was Leonardo da Vinci's David, that I realised I was in Florence. This town is a place of such architectural beauty, Italian simplicity and the worlds best and most definitely worst waiters, that I was completely blown away. I met one who during our meal spoke five languages one of them Gaelic. Yes I was impressed. I met another who didn't even bother to try and keep us when he was sullen in response to our simple questions. We left, he went back to watching TV.
The town boasts some wonderful Cathedrals, and craftsmanship of the highest order you wonder about the Italian claim of being the best and for a very long time, you don't doubt it. However they do hold their hands up when it comes to making beer and admit that horse piss is probably better. Their wine is stunning to say the least and perhaps lighter than many of the french ones I have tasted.
I thought a lot when I was there. It has been the first real holiday I have had where I wasn't coping with another family's politics or stressing out, or taking refuge,in about eight years, it was just a holiday. Broke and waiting to start my new job next Monday it was probably the best time it could arrive.
Funny for me then that the Italians play the Irish in a match amicale in Dublin tomorrow night. Even funnier to think that next year I will be able to fly home when I like and treat my son to what he wants. :)
We cut the holiday two days short to facilitate my ex as she couldn't find any one to look after my son. She couldn't cut hers short to facilitate me starting my new job next Monday. Why do I bother mentioning this? Well I might need a published record some time, but it is also to remind myself when I am older and wiser what an idiot I have been to get involved with a selfish individual, and also as I need to find someone to mind my boy next Monday, writing it down here is a stress relief in a way.
So the last month, I have found a very decent woman, spent lots of time with my son, found a real job finally, and learnt a lot about people who will fuck you up for a beer or a coffee and others who are real friends. That's life folks, at least I know I am living it. Thanks for reading and commenting. Back very very soon.
Collie
Now I was thinking of working in something about eating Pizza in the plaza of Pisa but I reckoned it would make a clumsy sentence, and besides, I ate pizza elsewhere.
The food in Italy is half the price it is in Nice, which incidentally is half the price it is in Dublin. So basically by European standards it's very cheap. At one restaurant, at the top of a mountain, at the end of the track, at which there was nothing else but this restaurant, four of us ate, pasta frite, which is deep fried dough, pasta with mushrooms, wild boar with a selection of fried vegetables, two, desserts and coffee for all, and two bottles of wine, which my host assured me were very rude, for the princely sum of 48 euros. Let me put this in perspective. As I walked along Rue de la Buffa with Joe Bagent today and my son, we stopped at a small eatery. We ordered a litre of wine, two plates of carpaccio de beouf, one dessert, two coffees, and the price was the same.
I am still off the cigarettes.
Not even a drag, a puff, a toke, a sniff, a pull, nothing. But I have started drinking pastis (finally). ?????
Italians are a funny people. They claim to be the best at everything. They are a very proud, beautiful open people, and their claim at being the best, is not so much a statement of arrogance. It's plain fact (in their opinion). This is strongly opposed to the French way of stating they are good at something, which is to ram it down your throat, so strongly in fact that you begin to wonder are they afraid of you finding out it's not at all true. The Italians don't have this fear as it just isn't a problem.
So imagine my surprise when I realise the leather market in Firenze, is not the only thing this particular town has to offer. You see it was only when my companion pointed out to me that the statue I was admiring was Leonardo da Vinci's David, that I realised I was in Florence. This town is a place of such architectural beauty, Italian simplicity and the worlds best and most definitely worst waiters, that I was completely blown away. I met one who during our meal spoke five languages one of them Gaelic. Yes I was impressed. I met another who didn't even bother to try and keep us when he was sullen in response to our simple questions. We left, he went back to watching TV.
The town boasts some wonderful Cathedrals, and craftsmanship of the highest order you wonder about the Italian claim of being the best and for a very long time, you don't doubt it. However they do hold their hands up when it comes to making beer and admit that horse piss is probably better. Their wine is stunning to say the least and perhaps lighter than many of the french ones I have tasted.
I thought a lot when I was there. It has been the first real holiday I have had where I wasn't coping with another family's politics or stressing out, or taking refuge,in about eight years, it was just a holiday. Broke and waiting to start my new job next Monday it was probably the best time it could arrive.
Funny for me then that the Italians play the Irish in a match amicale in Dublin tomorrow night. Even funnier to think that next year I will be able to fly home when I like and treat my son to what he wants. :)
We cut the holiday two days short to facilitate my ex as she couldn't find any one to look after my son. She couldn't cut hers short to facilitate me starting my new job next Monday. Why do I bother mentioning this? Well I might need a published record some time, but it is also to remind myself when I am older and wiser what an idiot I have been to get involved with a selfish individual, and also as I need to find someone to mind my boy next Monday, writing it down here is a stress relief in a way.
So the last month, I have found a very decent woman, spent lots of time with my son, found a real job finally, and learnt a lot about people who will fuck you up for a beer or a coffee and others who are real friends. That's life folks, at least I know I am living it. Thanks for reading and commenting. Back very very soon.
Collie
Friday, August 05, 2005
U2 Bono and all that in Nice
Yes I did. I saw U2 the band in the Nikkia Arena in Nice. Well I do live here after all. Last night I made my way along the voi rapide (Just realised I don't know how to spell that) and traveled easily along well controlled streets and got to park up beside the stadium. Organisation was amazing except for the 3 CRS guys (bad cops) who shouted at me "En Face" about 6 times. In front of you, was were I was going so why where they shouting it at me.The fat one decided I was either deaf or stupid, so I told him I didn't speak good french. Ahead he said. Finally they parted and I could see the "En face " where I wanted to guy. Christ but I hate grunts.
Now let me clear, I grew up in Dublin and heard these guys practicing near to where I lived, so I am not for a moment star struck. I didn't even want to criticise but what the heck it's not every day a body can be a critic, (or is it?).
So the light show and the stage where fantastic. However, I was convinced these guys had become Swiss. (the bass player Mr Clayton looked like his mother had told him off and went and stood in the corner for the most part). The group were due to start at 9:45pm and they did. They played exactly till 11:25pm and finished, came back on and played till 11:45 exactly, came back again and finished at midnight sharp. Now maybe they all had to run for fear of turning into pumkins, but at 58 euro a ticket and 30 euro a T-shirt, you would think that these guys could have thrown in a freebie.
Mobile phones were inoperable for the show until Bono asked us to text for charity. It was an impressive sight and somewhat scary to see 53,000 mobile phones being swung about and I was partly convinced he did this simply because he could.
You see a few years ago we used to tell the joke about the rock star who dies and goes to heaven. St Peter is showing him around and the guy says "Hey is that Bono?", and St Peter says "No, that Jesus Christ, he just thinks he's Bono". Well last night I realised why they told this joke about Dublins most famous. He hailed his public like a Roman Emperor or dare I say it a God. It was a strange phenomenon to see a front man so bent on being great, loved, admired, on being a hero, on being a saviour, backed up by the three most ordinary blokes who ever graced a stage. He talked about third world debt, (a worthy cause), he talked about the fighting between the children of Abraham, Mohamed, Jew, Christian, about Coexist (the x is the star of david in his show). I wondered of course about the daughters of Isis and the children of shiva and how they might feel.
He parodied a Nazi, even giving the Nazi salute, no he isn't Nazi he was making fun of them, but this is the South of France and people are sensitive to that here, so maybe he should have asked someone. By my crummy math I reckon the four of them made about a 1/4 of a million euro each for 2 hours work and perhaps they deserve it, but given that I can't afford to pay my phone bill, I have to say I felt like telling bono to whip out his phone and send his own bloody text. I also wondered for all his lip service to the cause of Africa, where were the African support group or African musicians playing alongside? Or even African technicans or security???? None were in evidence.
Musically people seemed to prefer the older numbers, Sunday bloody Sunday, or New years day, got huge responses while the newer stuff was enjoyed, but not as enthusiastically. With or without you was a big hit, it is after all a great song.
The highlight of the night for me was when Bono promised to be able to speak perfect french next year, he then asked Edge for a comment, I quote, "Je suis un Rock Star et j'habite in the south of France." I am sure someone could right a song about that, (if they hadn't already).
So the gig was a good gig but as I have already said, the guy is a great singer, I just wish he would let someone else do the talking.
Right other news
My boy is nuts about me Hooray. I haven't even had a drag of a ciggarette since last Sunday night Hooray again. Mind you there was a humungous amount of very sweet smelling herbs being smoked last night all around us.
I am off to Italy today with the lady who got me the ticket for the concert from friends of ours whom we were supposed to hook up with. But, when your phone is blocked finding a friend in a crowd of 53,000 isn't that easy.
When I come back the new life, struggle free starts. The job, hopefully I can manage it. I am sure this has tons of spelliing mistakes as I am exhausted and I have to pack a bag and make breakfeast. But you know what. I am not an English teacher any more, the spell checker isn't working and I can always fix it later. Here's hugs to ya.
Now let me clear, I grew up in Dublin and heard these guys practicing near to where I lived, so I am not for a moment star struck. I didn't even want to criticise but what the heck it's not every day a body can be a critic, (or is it?).
So the light show and the stage where fantastic. However, I was convinced these guys had become Swiss. (the bass player Mr Clayton looked like his mother had told him off and went and stood in the corner for the most part). The group were due to start at 9:45pm and they did. They played exactly till 11:25pm and finished, came back on and played till 11:45 exactly, came back again and finished at midnight sharp. Now maybe they all had to run for fear of turning into pumkins, but at 58 euro a ticket and 30 euro a T-shirt, you would think that these guys could have thrown in a freebie.
Mobile phones were inoperable for the show until Bono asked us to text for charity. It was an impressive sight and somewhat scary to see 53,000 mobile phones being swung about and I was partly convinced he did this simply because he could.
You see a few years ago we used to tell the joke about the rock star who dies and goes to heaven. St Peter is showing him around and the guy says "Hey is that Bono?", and St Peter says "No, that Jesus Christ, he just thinks he's Bono". Well last night I realised why they told this joke about Dublins most famous. He hailed his public like a Roman Emperor or dare I say it a God. It was a strange phenomenon to see a front man so bent on being great, loved, admired, on being a hero, on being a saviour, backed up by the three most ordinary blokes who ever graced a stage. He talked about third world debt, (a worthy cause), he talked about the fighting between the children of Abraham, Mohamed, Jew, Christian, about Coexist (the x is the star of david in his show). I wondered of course about the daughters of Isis and the children of shiva and how they might feel.
He parodied a Nazi, even giving the Nazi salute, no he isn't Nazi he was making fun of them, but this is the South of France and people are sensitive to that here, so maybe he should have asked someone. By my crummy math I reckon the four of them made about a 1/4 of a million euro each for 2 hours work and perhaps they deserve it, but given that I can't afford to pay my phone bill, I have to say I felt like telling bono to whip out his phone and send his own bloody text. I also wondered for all his lip service to the cause of Africa, where were the African support group or African musicians playing alongside? Or even African technicans or security???? None were in evidence.
Musically people seemed to prefer the older numbers, Sunday bloody Sunday, or New years day, got huge responses while the newer stuff was enjoyed, but not as enthusiastically. With or without you was a big hit, it is after all a great song.
The highlight of the night for me was when Bono promised to be able to speak perfect french next year, he then asked Edge for a comment, I quote, "Je suis un Rock Star et j'habite in the south of France." I am sure someone could right a song about that, (if they hadn't already).
So the gig was a good gig but as I have already said, the guy is a great singer, I just wish he would let someone else do the talking.
Right other news
My boy is nuts about me Hooray. I haven't even had a drag of a ciggarette since last Sunday night Hooray again. Mind you there was a humungous amount of very sweet smelling herbs being smoked last night all around us.
I am off to Italy today with the lady who got me the ticket for the concert from friends of ours whom we were supposed to hook up with. But, when your phone is blocked finding a friend in a crowd of 53,000 isn't that easy.
When I come back the new life, struggle free starts. The job, hopefully I can manage it. I am sure this has tons of spelliing mistakes as I am exhausted and I have to pack a bag and make breakfeast. But you know what. I am not an English teacher any more, the spell checker isn't working and I can always fix it later. Here's hugs to ya.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Maybe I should own up?
This is not the first time I quit. I quit around 1991 for 3 years. I have been smoking since the end of the 3 years. But hey still strong. still off.
yeaaaaggggghhhhhhh
*%)@ smammmit. I am dying for a smoke but not even a drag of one for nearly 40 hours. Yes I could tell you how good the weather is and how many babes are on the beach and how great my mates are. But fuck it I would love just one drag.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Giving UP
For a month I talked about it. Nobody believed me. I gave up smoking on August 1st, in fact my last ciggarette was July 31st. It's driving me nuts, I can't sleep and I know this is the hard part. Oh well nothing like cold turkey to sort you out now is there. Is there?
Thursday, July 28, 2005
wow war is over
It's just a note to say that the statement today by the IRA is acknowledged by people all over the world. Some sceptical, some disbeliving, others relieved, others perhaps happy even. Personally I am struck by the importance of the end of something I have grown up with, witnessed, (but not lived through) and been greatly troubled by all my life. Who doesn't want to have their own country independant? Who doesn't want a united nation? Who really understood outside of the island of Ireland what it was all about? Perhaps now the way is clear for the dream of James Connolly and many others to finally come true. Nearly a hundred years later, Irish Men and Irish Women, Catholic Protestant and dissenter, may finally work together to bring about a successful, dynamic and unified nation of Irish people. I hope so. Today I am moved and my eyes filled for a little, I don't know yet why. Maybe now we can stop all the hate. I hope so. I really really hope so. Now Governments, it is up to you.
Saturday, July 23, 2005
fed up with not understanding
This is probably not the place to post this. But post it I will. Having been convinced to leave Ireland just over two years ago, promises of a better life, jobs, contacts etc; one year ago my ex decided she wanted a divorce. Life between then and now has been hard. I was practically thrown out of the house in a foreign country, no where near fluent in the language, and ignorant of the social set up I struggled. I did my best to be near my son and take him when I could. I had work most days often just an hour and a half in Monaco. I earned less than a thousand euro for 3 months of Jan Feb March. This week has been good for me. I have a new girlfriend who is very good, wise and understanding, I have finally the new job that will change my life. I had my boy for four nights last week and this week was asked to take him again as he was going to Corsica on Monday. I didn't say yes or no, (perhaps my fault) but was surprised when I sent a text today and got no answer. Sent another this evening and got a bigger surprise when I learned he wasn't at home but up country with his grandparents. I sent my ex a message telling her that it was mean of her to do that. She sent me one telling me she didn't have time to explain to twisted people how decent people act. I am so pissed off with this imature, mean lying woman, I am actually afraid for my son. So now what do I do? I won't now see him for a month. Once I am settled in a job it will be an expensive lawyer and we will see if I can get a routine established. It's hard to break up with an unreasonable person and even harder to live your life after wards when your child is involved. Pity, otherwise life would be perfect instead it has a huge black blot on it. Oh well. Hope anyone else out there going through similiar doesn't ever have to put up with the crap and uncertainty my ex has blighted my life with.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
One law for you one for me
Funny how often when some one points the finger there are three fingers pointing back. Let me explain. My ex often looses the head when she wants to do something and I can't look after our son. So after copious messages and phone calls trying to sort out a date for her holidays, her second of the summer(even though she doesn't work), and after much abuse about my being selfish, (no holiday last year, I was asked for a divorce and then expected to mind the animals and house while she disappeared with my son for a month), I finally organised a free week. However I am supposed to reply urgently to my new place of employment that I can start on a proposed date. So I inform by text the dates free and does she get in touch? Nope. Does she say thanks? Nope, does she even care that I am under pressure to respond to a new employer? Probably not. You see the problem here, as some one once said is a failure to communicate. Too often people get lost in what they want to do, and loose sight of what should, or could, or is possible to do.
I will continue to do my best for my boy as I am sure she will. It's a pity we seem to piss each other off, in what is otherwise a damn good life when all is going well. So my future is about to change. No more cheese and pasta for days on end. No more calling around to friends and not telling them how little I have but timing my arrival for dinner. No more my son asking can we have that, or can we go there, and me saying no we haven't any money. Oh well if ever blue sky has a grey cloud I guess like many people, my ex is mine, and I am probably hers. The odd thing is I am sure neither of us really mean to be.
I will continue to do my best for my boy as I am sure she will. It's a pity we seem to piss each other off, in what is otherwise a damn good life when all is going well. So my future is about to change. No more cheese and pasta for days on end. No more calling around to friends and not telling them how little I have but timing my arrival for dinner. No more my son asking can we have that, or can we go there, and me saying no we haven't any money. Oh well if ever blue sky has a grey cloud I guess like many people, my ex is mine, and I am probably hers. The odd thing is I am sure neither of us really mean to be.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Not so much the numbers as 1st thought
Ok that last post about numbers is all trash,the company got in touch and I have to do another interview this time in English. Apparently I have nothing to worry about but I will know tomorrow either way. Funny how life here seems to drag things out, nothing is easy.
So with that in mind, I explain my current position for those who care. I stayed in France last year to be close to my son, for both my son and I. My hours of working, lack of transport, the reluctance of his ma to let him go on my scooter, made seeing him difficult, and I was relegated to one weekend in every two. At every beck of call of hers I made time when I could to see him but only when she had some thing organised. I became my own son's glorified baby sitter.
Every year for as long as I have known them, her family has gone off to Corsica, she has always been there for the month of August. So this year, after my holidays got screwed last year, and now that I have someone nice in my life, I decided to accept an invitation to Tuscany. My friend sorted out her dates with the company and we choose the 6th to 15th August. No problem. Yesterday the 17th July, I get a phone call from my ex, telling me they have booked for my son and they to go to Corsica on the 25th July(my time for having him) and to come back the 5th August and that I must take him. I didn't refuse, I told her I was going away. I got a stream of abuse down the phone and then she hung up. Today she rang back trying to get me to look after him on the week of the 16th. Again I didn't refuse but if I get this new job it starts on the 16th in Monaco. How do I look after my son and take a job that will enable me to pay for him to have decent clothes, spend a good time with me, and get a good education? Well the problem is nothing, I mean nothing is legal between us. So down to the cop station to make an offical document and have something in writing asap. Then try to find a lawyer and get this damn thing sorted out. Ladies for any of you who are treating the fathers of your children badly because you are angry, Please don't. It isn't good for anyone. Men, for any of you not taking the responsiblity of being a father, get up off your asses and be there for your boy, or your girl. The rewards are amazing when both parents can do it right. When one or none can then the rewards are minimal, the stress is huge and the fall out is just not worth it. So if anyone reading is an expert on french separation law, do me a favour and fill me in on what I need to do.
And a last note, I managed to have my boy for nearly a whole week and we did nothing but celebrate life to the full. Best of summers to you all.
Collie
So with that in mind, I explain my current position for those who care. I stayed in France last year to be close to my son, for both my son and I. My hours of working, lack of transport, the reluctance of his ma to let him go on my scooter, made seeing him difficult, and I was relegated to one weekend in every two. At every beck of call of hers I made time when I could to see him but only when she had some thing organised. I became my own son's glorified baby sitter.
Every year for as long as I have known them, her family has gone off to Corsica, she has always been there for the month of August. So this year, after my holidays got screwed last year, and now that I have someone nice in my life, I decided to accept an invitation to Tuscany. My friend sorted out her dates with the company and we choose the 6th to 15th August. No problem. Yesterday the 17th July, I get a phone call from my ex, telling me they have booked for my son and they to go to Corsica on the 25th July(my time for having him) and to come back the 5th August and that I must take him. I didn't refuse, I told her I was going away. I got a stream of abuse down the phone and then she hung up. Today she rang back trying to get me to look after him on the week of the 16th. Again I didn't refuse but if I get this new job it starts on the 16th in Monaco. How do I look after my son and take a job that will enable me to pay for him to have decent clothes, spend a good time with me, and get a good education? Well the problem is nothing, I mean nothing is legal between us. So down to the cop station to make an offical document and have something in writing asap. Then try to find a lawyer and get this damn thing sorted out. Ladies for any of you who are treating the fathers of your children badly because you are angry, Please don't. It isn't good for anyone. Men, for any of you not taking the responsiblity of being a father, get up off your asses and be there for your boy, or your girl. The rewards are amazing when both parents can do it right. When one or none can then the rewards are minimal, the stress is huge and the fall out is just not worth it. So if anyone reading is an expert on french separation law, do me a favour and fill me in on what I need to do.
And a last note, I managed to have my boy for nearly a whole week and we did nothing but celebrate life to the full. Best of summers to you all.
Collie
The 14th the 13th and all those numbers.
It is odd how a number can pop up time and time again in one's life. Let me give you an example.
My parents were married on the 13th April, and seventy odd years later my son was born on the same day. My wife asked me for a divorce on the 13th July and exactly one year to day, I have been offered a job that is going to change my life. Perhaps that I was born in 67, er 6+7 = 13, has something to do with, but maybe not. There are many other instances of this number in my life but these are the main ones. So any budding numerologist out there want to tell me what it all means?
However yesterday was the 14th,(the day after??). Bastille day in France is a day of celebration, but not in monaco. They had their prince crowned on the 12th, I had my 13th, and then France celebrated yesterday. It was the day to go to the beach, sit on the pebbles and wait till 10pm. A large boat steamed into the bay and positioned itself. Small fireworks were been let off intermittently on the beach. The streets lights were extinguished and the tension mounted. Little boys asked their fathers, "When is it coming?" Suddenly, not just in Nice, but in every town along the coast, the fireworks commenced. A huge display of Light, smoke and noise was watched by thousands who sat quietly, ooohing and ahhing the more spectacular explosions. I was gripped by how the noise travelled across the water and reverberated off the cliffs behind us.
Intrigued when I realised I could see other displays in the distance, in Antibes and Cannes. Life is good in Summer. There are plenty of reasons to celebrate. The french are perhaps more reserved and muted than the Irish, but we certainly wouldn't dream of sitting on the beach at 10pm watching a pyrotechnical display such as we did yesterday.
Where ever you are, there is always something to celebrate, sometimes you might have to look hard, and sometimes you might have to do it on your own, but do it. Celebrate.
My parents were married on the 13th April, and seventy odd years later my son was born on the same day. My wife asked me for a divorce on the 13th July and exactly one year to day, I have been offered a job that is going to change my life. Perhaps that I was born in 67, er 6+7 = 13, has something to do with, but maybe not. There are many other instances of this number in my life but these are the main ones. So any budding numerologist out there want to tell me what it all means?
However yesterday was the 14th,(the day after??). Bastille day in France is a day of celebration, but not in monaco. They had their prince crowned on the 12th, I had my 13th, and then France celebrated yesterday. It was the day to go to the beach, sit on the pebbles and wait till 10pm. A large boat steamed into the bay and positioned itself. Small fireworks were been let off intermittently on the beach. The streets lights were extinguished and the tension mounted. Little boys asked their fathers, "When is it coming?" Suddenly, not just in Nice, but in every town along the coast, the fireworks commenced. A huge display of Light, smoke and noise was watched by thousands who sat quietly, ooohing and ahhing the more spectacular explosions. I was gripped by how the noise travelled across the water and reverberated off the cliffs behind us.
Intrigued when I realised I could see other displays in the distance, in Antibes and Cannes. Life is good in Summer. There are plenty of reasons to celebrate. The french are perhaps more reserved and muted than the Irish, but we certainly wouldn't dream of sitting on the beach at 10pm watching a pyrotechnical display such as we did yesterday.
Where ever you are, there is always something to celebrate, sometimes you might have to look hard, and sometimes you might have to do it on your own, but do it. Celebrate.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Summer and sea change
Well summer is in full swing. The temperature is in the 30's centigrade and people are getting browner and wearing less. That is always a good thing in my opinion, being very appreciative of the human form, and in particular the female form, it brightens up my days. The English teaching has been okay for the month of June and the first week of July but there is little on the horizon. This last year has been strange. I haven't written for a while. Perhaps I have been navel gazing too much. It's the anniversary of my leaving Ireland and coming to France, now two years ago. While I set off with so much hope for a new future at the time I never imagined it would have passed as it has. Apart from my own trials, I lost a good old comrade through suicide, three friends developed cancer, and a distant relation or two passed away. Well that's life.
God I hear you say not more moaning. No I am not moaning, just reflecting and getting a bit of perspective.
I am exhausted lately but for good reasons very good reasons, which if you can't guess I will tell you later.
When I left Ireland I had just written produced and directed my play. While it was no master piece it was what I wanted and intended it to be from the start, and while not pleasing all of the people all the time, I hit a good eighty percent of them. Suffice to say I was someone at the top of my game and in the last two years I have survived relegation by a couple of divisions. I know you have heard it all before and for the life of me I can't imagine why any one comes here and reads what I write but, well, I get stuff off my chest this way.
Like what?, I hear you say. Well the bastards who practically dismantled my scooter the other day should have their skin peeled and then be left in a salt pit in the mid-day sun, for one. I managed to put it back together but they stole my helmet. Luckily I had another but still had to take my son back to where he was going to with out a helmet on my head. At five years of age he was convinced my scooter was finished. I felt bad he had to witness the crappy side so young but maybe it's a good education for him.
I guess my scooter and I are closer than I think. I managed to put it back together and bar a broken lock and lost helmet, it runs as well or badly as ever depending on your view. Why am I and it alike? Well I feel like I have been dismantled too and I am in the process of putting myself back together.
I have had some interesting experiences with jobs lately, starting one and working my ass off all night only to be told the next night I wasn't good enough. Another someone who I actually don't know well at all, came running after me, but as I working this week I couldn't start. I didn't realise that had I showed up I could have started next Monday, (curse my communication skills). Then an interview a month ago, in a computer company that still hasn't finished it's first round of interviews so the must be interviewing a million people for one job.
Since my separation last July I have met a string of women, no, I haven't bedded or been bedded by them all. I have met two who were in the throws of a nervous breakdown and that took a bit of time to discover. The next was very conservative and had a very low opinion of herself and others, the one after distant, the one after that, I thought might have been the one and while I went out with her for a while, she turned out to be a selfish spoiled, abusive lazy individual, yet beautiful sexy and strong and lively. It got too tough to hang in there and wait for something that I wasn't sure would come. In short her problem was she didn't love herself and perhaps I was not loving myself either. Then there was one who just seemed to be very secretive or basically couldn't answer a straight question so no joy there. Then a girl who I saw looking at me, I found her very attractive, gentle, together, warm and although she stayed the night, nothing happened. I met her a few times but she seemed to be either uninterested or not realise that I wanted to be with her so I let it fall. I still don't know if she just wanted a friend or not.
Then I met another girl and well, hence the reason I am exhausted. Easy to be with, beautiful, working, and very calm. Not my normal type of personality at all, but she makes me feel good so I will enjoy and just see what pans out.
Work for September seems plentiful so I might be able to pay off some of my debts finally. It has been getting a bit embarrassing.
I need to write a lot more and I have decided instead of chasing down the menial work to get back to what I know, refresh my knowledge base and create a Flash CV and see can I not get back into IT that way. In the meantime although it will be tight financially I plan to work on my film for the summer and who knows come autumn I might have something to work with.
I have lots of projects in my head but none of them are being followed up, in part due to using my spare time either job hunting, preparing classes or chilling out with people.
So dinner now on Saturday night with friends in my girls pad. Interesting to say the least as I am cooking. I will definitely write again soon. So if you come back and read, thanks but honestly I still don't get why you are here in the first place. Or I for that matter.
God I hear you say not more moaning. No I am not moaning, just reflecting and getting a bit of perspective.
I am exhausted lately but for good reasons very good reasons, which if you can't guess I will tell you later.
When I left Ireland I had just written produced and directed my play. While it was no master piece it was what I wanted and intended it to be from the start, and while not pleasing all of the people all the time, I hit a good eighty percent of them. Suffice to say I was someone at the top of my game and in the last two years I have survived relegation by a couple of divisions. I know you have heard it all before and for the life of me I can't imagine why any one comes here and reads what I write but, well, I get stuff off my chest this way.
Like what?, I hear you say. Well the bastards who practically dismantled my scooter the other day should have their skin peeled and then be left in a salt pit in the mid-day sun, for one. I managed to put it back together but they stole my helmet. Luckily I had another but still had to take my son back to where he was going to with out a helmet on my head. At five years of age he was convinced my scooter was finished. I felt bad he had to witness the crappy side so young but maybe it's a good education for him.
I guess my scooter and I are closer than I think. I managed to put it back together and bar a broken lock and lost helmet, it runs as well or badly as ever depending on your view. Why am I and it alike? Well I feel like I have been dismantled too and I am in the process of putting myself back together.
I have had some interesting experiences with jobs lately, starting one and working my ass off all night only to be told the next night I wasn't good enough. Another someone who I actually don't know well at all, came running after me, but as I working this week I couldn't start. I didn't realise that had I showed up I could have started next Monday, (curse my communication skills). Then an interview a month ago, in a computer company that still hasn't finished it's first round of interviews so the must be interviewing a million people for one job.
Since my separation last July I have met a string of women, no, I haven't bedded or been bedded by them all. I have met two who were in the throws of a nervous breakdown and that took a bit of time to discover. The next was very conservative and had a very low opinion of herself and others, the one after distant, the one after that, I thought might have been the one and while I went out with her for a while, she turned out to be a selfish spoiled, abusive lazy individual, yet beautiful sexy and strong and lively. It got too tough to hang in there and wait for something that I wasn't sure would come. In short her problem was she didn't love herself and perhaps I was not loving myself either. Then there was one who just seemed to be very secretive or basically couldn't answer a straight question so no joy there. Then a girl who I saw looking at me, I found her very attractive, gentle, together, warm and although she stayed the night, nothing happened. I met her a few times but she seemed to be either uninterested or not realise that I wanted to be with her so I let it fall. I still don't know if she just wanted a friend or not.
Then I met another girl and well, hence the reason I am exhausted. Easy to be with, beautiful, working, and very calm. Not my normal type of personality at all, but she makes me feel good so I will enjoy and just see what pans out.
Work for September seems plentiful so I might be able to pay off some of my debts finally. It has been getting a bit embarrassing.
I need to write a lot more and I have decided instead of chasing down the menial work to get back to what I know, refresh my knowledge base and create a Flash CV and see can I not get back into IT that way. In the meantime although it will be tight financially I plan to work on my film for the summer and who knows come autumn I might have something to work with.
I have lots of projects in my head but none of them are being followed up, in part due to using my spare time either job hunting, preparing classes or chilling out with people.
So dinner now on Saturday night with friends in my girls pad. Interesting to say the least as I am cooking. I will definitely write again soon. So if you come back and read, thanks but honestly I still don't get why you are here in the first place. Or I for that matter.
Monday, May 30, 2005
Pick me?
The hardest thing to do after a break up is to get used to being alone. It makes one very lonely to be in a place so unlike home that the absence of the familiar can be crippling. The other thing is trying to get used to oneself. Before, even though the relationship was not superb, knowing someone was there was a kind of comfort. My son and my ex are no longer around me and suddenly I feel like an insecure teenager again. It's tough in a country with 15% unemployment to be really alone and feel like there is no one special person there for you. At the age of 37 it gets tougher.
The Monaco grand prix and the film festival of Cannes have come and gone and apart from hearing the engines revving at a distance, and going down to stand on lowes hairpin I had no contact whatsoever with these world famous events. Like many people here, there are less than distractions, something for the tourists.
Both events hearald the great invasion of pasty white whales that lie beached all day hoping to become brown and manage to turn red, and then pass their evenings in the numerous bars and restaurants. They also hearald the end of the bad weather.
As it was wet and cold for both events, no sooner are the over, than the temperature in Nice rises to the high 30s and it is beautiful.
The sea turns blue but the cleaning boats are not yet out so pieces of tomato, and discarded sanitary towels float past you on the beach in Villefranche.
Work wise for a teacher of English is has been a good month, June is so so, and July and August are barren and scary. They beckon like a desert of sand, daring the camel to cross it and try to survive and one can't know if survival is possible with out trying. Perhaps with the CV's and interviews there may yet be an Oasis on the horizon but realistically speaking, hope is buried under the last remaining palm tree. Creativity goes out the window, Initiative flies the coop, and I am left staring and wondering, looking at my shoes willing them to transport me in the direction of the hotel or bar that will take one look at me and say "yes, we have a job for you".
The problems of regulating time to see my son and of possibly breaking contracts with the schools for the month of June have to be ignored. Food has to be put on the table and a roof kept over my head. So on I go. Perhaps tomorrow the outlook will be brighter, some link in the chain of chance and good fortune will fall into place, or perhaps I don't give enough credit, and take for granted, the amazing links of good fortune that have already befallen me. So to whoever or whatever is in control I say thank you for the many gifts but "please sir can I have one more", a permanent monday to friday preferably, if you don't mind, that can give me the means to stay. That's all I ask. Alternatively, if someone needs a writer or editor of english or a translator from French to English, then let them pick me. Please pick me.
The Monaco grand prix and the film festival of Cannes have come and gone and apart from hearing the engines revving at a distance, and going down to stand on lowes hairpin I had no contact whatsoever with these world famous events. Like many people here, there are less than distractions, something for the tourists.
Both events hearald the great invasion of pasty white whales that lie beached all day hoping to become brown and manage to turn red, and then pass their evenings in the numerous bars and restaurants. They also hearald the end of the bad weather.
As it was wet and cold for both events, no sooner are the over, than the temperature in Nice rises to the high 30s and it is beautiful.
The sea turns blue but the cleaning boats are not yet out so pieces of tomato, and discarded sanitary towels float past you on the beach in Villefranche.
Work wise for a teacher of English is has been a good month, June is so so, and July and August are barren and scary. They beckon like a desert of sand, daring the camel to cross it and try to survive and one can't know if survival is possible with out trying. Perhaps with the CV's and interviews there may yet be an Oasis on the horizon but realistically speaking, hope is buried under the last remaining palm tree. Creativity goes out the window, Initiative flies the coop, and I am left staring and wondering, looking at my shoes willing them to transport me in the direction of the hotel or bar that will take one look at me and say "yes, we have a job for you".
The problems of regulating time to see my son and of possibly breaking contracts with the schools for the month of June have to be ignored. Food has to be put on the table and a roof kept over my head. So on I go. Perhaps tomorrow the outlook will be brighter, some link in the chain of chance and good fortune will fall into place, or perhaps I don't give enough credit, and take for granted, the amazing links of good fortune that have already befallen me. So to whoever or whatever is in control I say thank you for the many gifts but "please sir can I have one more", a permanent monday to friday preferably, if you don't mind, that can give me the means to stay. That's all I ask. Alternatively, if someone needs a writer or editor of english or a translator from French to English, then let them pick me. Please pick me.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Enjoying life yet?
Yes I have been quiet. I have been home to the old sod for 10 days. To say it did me good would be an understatement. Not only did I meet up with all the mates, buddies and friends a person could care to have, I also managed to switch off the worry head too. My son came right out of himself as he was reintroduced to enough cousins to start a decent soccer team.
Yes there were those with problems, but none more serious than my own so it was manageable. Yes I got very merry drinking beer and whisky and celebrating my parents 50th anniversary. It was easy to leave but hard to come back. I notice however that my mind set, assuming I get enough sleep, has changed. I am more positive, my outlook is brighter.
I have dissappointments every day but I have things to celebrate too. I am teaching myself the joy and value of life and what a joy it is. The Sun is beaming, that always helps. I am meeting new and interesting people, that always helps too. Some people even missed me while I was gone, so now the Cote d'Azur is becoming home. Wow I never thought I would view it that way. I will probably never be as funny in french as I know I can be in English, I will probably never be as articulate but hey, I could strive for that if I want. My writing is still, well it's there somewhere like a silent companion waiting for me to come home. My work setup is not quite improving per say but it's certainly not getting anyworse. I am a little more positive, more open, and dare I say it, a little more french too. Funny sometimes you sit down to write something funny and you don't. I am sure the rough difficult time I am giving myself is not quite over but the light at the end of the tunnel no longer looks like a speeding train. So here I am and there you are as you read. Thank you for your eyes and your thoughts, and your comments. It's time to get living now. Turn off the computer, do something to make your life better, anything at all. Enjoy it to the full, seize the day by the scruff of the neck and shake some fun out of life.
Collie
Yes there were those with problems, but none more serious than my own so it was manageable. Yes I got very merry drinking beer and whisky and celebrating my parents 50th anniversary. It was easy to leave but hard to come back. I notice however that my mind set, assuming I get enough sleep, has changed. I am more positive, my outlook is brighter.
I have dissappointments every day but I have things to celebrate too. I am teaching myself the joy and value of life and what a joy it is. The Sun is beaming, that always helps. I am meeting new and interesting people, that always helps too. Some people even missed me while I was gone, so now the Cote d'Azur is becoming home. Wow I never thought I would view it that way. I will probably never be as funny in french as I know I can be in English, I will probably never be as articulate but hey, I could strive for that if I want. My writing is still, well it's there somewhere like a silent companion waiting for me to come home. My work setup is not quite improving per say but it's certainly not getting anyworse. I am a little more positive, more open, and dare I say it, a little more french too. Funny sometimes you sit down to write something funny and you don't. I am sure the rough difficult time I am giving myself is not quite over but the light at the end of the tunnel no longer looks like a speeding train. So here I am and there you are as you read. Thank you for your eyes and your thoughts, and your comments. It's time to get living now. Turn off the computer, do something to make your life better, anything at all. Enjoy it to the full, seize the day by the scruff of the neck and shake some fun out of life.
Collie
Monday, April 18, 2005
Death of a woman who fought GW Bush
Hey what can I say? Here's the link http://news.independent.co.uk/world/middle_east/story.jsp?story=630851
Go read it if you don't already know.
Go read it if you don't already know.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Apologies, thanks, and that's that then.
Hi all
I got a shed load of comments about my last post. I have to apologise, I didn't mean to insult any friends of mine who have given help, rather I meant that I couldn't ask for any more help and that it was up to me to get on with it, the part about new friends was in reference to one or two people who dropped me here, and in fairness why wouldn't they if all I am doing is moaning. So sorry and please forgive something that was written in the heat of the moment and not really checked before posting.
So now what? Well it's over. I have been kicked up the ass and it was a pleasure. I have been kicked in the teeth but I refuse to stay down. I am standing on my own too feet and God damn it I am going to sort it out. Come hell or high water, and there is no reason why they should come I am changing my life starting right now.
Enough moping around and getting it all arse ways. Time for concrete positive action. Now actually I have no idea how many people who know me from Ireland or anywhere else read this blog so if you are someone who considered yourself my friend I am going to apologise again, why?
Well I am going to name names, and as they say at home, it's a dangerous thing to do because you always leave someone out. So if I leave you out my friend, it's either because I am nervous to name you, or I don't know how you feel about me, or just because I am an idiot at times.
So thank you Ma and Da and happy 50th anniversary this Wednesday 13th. And thank you my son and happy birthday this Wednesday 13th.
Thank you Tom Stokes and Frank Allen and here is the plug I promised for your movie and if you give me permission I will write about it here some later date. http://www.rascal-films.com
Thank you Marina, thank you Rami, and Kim you know that you are great, thank you. Thank you to my brothers and sister for your support and thanks to all who listened to me moaning. Thanks to everyone who wrote a comment, or just read these pages. Everyone who has written a comment has been extremely helpful. Thanks Noreen, Mary, Bernadette, Jim and Mark, yes Mark you.
Thank you Ken Smith without who I would have gone nuts. Sorry if anything I wrote made me sound ungrateful, thanks for you listening, your advice, your coffee, and your general self. Thank you Hadia and Samia. Thank you Ibtisam, thank you Jose, thank you Pascale, thank you to all who have listened to me in Nice, who have fed me who have tolerated me not tolerating myself.
Thank you thank you a million thank yous
Side note of thanks goes to a Man about whom I learned just tonight that he is no longer with me. Bhí lamh in a bas Fein. Frank Clarke you thought me a lot about cameras, and technical equipment, and you made me laugh. I will miss you greatly. Thank you for being you.
I got a shed load of comments about my last post. I have to apologise, I didn't mean to insult any friends of mine who have given help, rather I meant that I couldn't ask for any more help and that it was up to me to get on with it, the part about new friends was in reference to one or two people who dropped me here, and in fairness why wouldn't they if all I am doing is moaning. So sorry and please forgive something that was written in the heat of the moment and not really checked before posting.
So now what? Well it's over. I have been kicked up the ass and it was a pleasure. I have been kicked in the teeth but I refuse to stay down. I am standing on my own too feet and God damn it I am going to sort it out. Come hell or high water, and there is no reason why they should come I am changing my life starting right now.
Enough moping around and getting it all arse ways. Time for concrete positive action. Now actually I have no idea how many people who know me from Ireland or anywhere else read this blog so if you are someone who considered yourself my friend I am going to apologise again, why?
Well I am going to name names, and as they say at home, it's a dangerous thing to do because you always leave someone out. So if I leave you out my friend, it's either because I am nervous to name you, or I don't know how you feel about me, or just because I am an idiot at times.
So thank you Ma and Da and happy 50th anniversary this Wednesday 13th. And thank you my son and happy birthday this Wednesday 13th.
Thank you Tom Stokes and Frank Allen and here is the plug I promised for your movie and if you give me permission I will write about it here some later date. http://www.rascal-films.com
Thank you Marina, thank you Rami, and Kim you know that you are great, thank you. Thank you to my brothers and sister for your support and thanks to all who listened to me moaning. Thanks to everyone who wrote a comment, or just read these pages. Everyone who has written a comment has been extremely helpful. Thanks Noreen, Mary, Bernadette, Jim and Mark, yes Mark you.
Thank you Ken Smith without who I would have gone nuts. Sorry if anything I wrote made me sound ungrateful, thanks for you listening, your advice, your coffee, and your general self. Thank you Hadia and Samia. Thank you Ibtisam, thank you Jose, thank you Pascale, thank you to all who have listened to me in Nice, who have fed me who have tolerated me not tolerating myself.
Thank you thank you a million thank yous
Side note of thanks goes to a Man about whom I learned just tonight that he is no longer with me. Bhí lamh in a bas Fein. Frank Clarke you thought me a lot about cameras, and technical equipment, and you made me laugh. I will miss you greatly. Thank you for being you.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
This is me
Yes I got paid and as usual either I can't count or he can't, he makes out that 6 and 3/4 hours at 20 euros and hours is 129 and I make out it's 135. Fuck it I have it and that's the main thing. On the positive side I have managed to organise a further 3 hours before I leave in Monaco, and this guy tonight may have another student in a hotel and some technical writing for me to do as well. On the positive side I have an interview on Saturday. On the negative side going home when I am might screw that up but I will sort it out if I can. On the neither negative nor positive side but more on the frustration side, I didn't get time to either ring the social assistant today or get my test results.
I need to explain something that apparently people just don't get and I am stunned that no one gets it. Let me be the first to say that I am at fault. I made mistakes in life. However I am human too. I didn't plan to have my heart wrenched out and stood on, and no matter how difficult my marriage was I am not someone to give up and walk away from a difficult situation and I genuinely believed I could improve the situation and make things better. So there I am practically alone, with no one as a friend who can listen, or support or advise. Fuck it since Last July I had never been alone so much as I have this last 6 months. Yes I felt sorry for myself and for my son. I felt like a failure, like I had wasted 7 years of my life trying to make something work that couldn't. I was angry and still am at my ex and her family and like it or not I have to put up with her ignorance, coldness, carelessness and downright rudeness till my son is 18 and then and only then can I tell her what I feel. If I do it before hand I am afraid I will not get to see my son. I didn't know what divorce was; it only became legal in 1999 I think, in Ireland so I hadn't grown up with a culture that was familiar with it. I never imagined that someone who would ask for a church wedding would then 2 years later throw it in the dustbin. Yes I was naive.
So imagine it this way, here is a guy who was so emotionally fucked up he couldn't think straight and so he didn't bother to read the fine print in his contracts. All of which I got after his marriage broke up. I also spent 5 months running around like a complete idiot trying to find somewhere to live, refusing one place which was good and cheap but because his French wasn't great he misunderstood who was on the phone, and with his confidence bashed he didn't have the courage to ask the person to repeat themselves. Oh well I thought, it will happen. It did. I found a couple who offered to go guarantor and when push came to shove they backed out. I couldn't understand the details either of what I was being told when I went to places like the CAFF, Agent Immobilier, or anywhere else where people didn't speak English, I just got the general idea, as I was already stressed, nervous, and alone and I really needed a friend to help. There was no one. I asked my ex and she politely told me to get lost.
Okay, I took it on the chin, actually I didn't, I collapsed in disbelief. I had to continue teaching a lot every day when my heart was breaking, and I was terrified about what was going to happen to my son. My future outlook had been shattered. Well I had already ploughed all the money I had into a wreck of a house in Falicon. While my wife worked and I had to be home to put my son to school and meet him again and there being just 3 buses per day in that time, I couldn't get a job anywhere because I couldn't get anywhere so the savings went.
Moving on I realised late in January that For the months of February and March I would be screwed basically, and I managed to get work with two other schools, However due to classes being cancelled and people not showing up, and other people not able to pay what they say they can, I often miscalculated how much I was earning each month. (My fault I know).
For instance the 6 euros I was left short today would fill my bike for a week.
I am deeply ashamed (my fault) to work in McDonalds and while already struggling with self-confidence and esteem that would be the worse thing I could do. McDo represents everything I detest and I haven't set foot inside it in nigh on 20 years.
I sent CV's off every time I saw a job that I thought I could do, but hang on I can't write well in French so now I need to push and learn more French. Easy really, I have a broken heart, I am stressed, no one to help and I am supposed to go find a job and learn French like it is a spring day and all is good with the world. The only thing I ever wanted to do in life was make films and tell stories and I haven't done any of it since I left Ireland and I am getting left behind and so my final dream is going up in smoke. I find myself in a strange land, (my choice,) I find myself alone (not my choice) I find it intensely difficult to regulate the bad, negative side of things, and keep my head up because most days I just want to cry, and most days I just want to get on with and make money. I can't see how to balance anything and I don't know what I am doing. This is a very different guy from the one who left Ireland nearly two years ago. Creative, energetic, fit, dynamic, I am now a shadow of my former self. My strength and resolve are there but my energy and state of mind are not. I had to stop my pension; my savings account and I have run up debts in and around 5000 euros. I am not proud of myself, I am ashamed of my situation, so I refute that it is by choice that I am in the situation I am in. I don't refute that it is my fault. Of course it is. But I have never been the one to hide under a rock in case in rains and I often expect the worst thinking that if it happens, then at least I won't be disappointed. I cannot and could not foresee being abandoned and being abused by so many. If I could foresee that, I wouldn't get up in the morning, and I wouldn't be alive now either. This is my strength. My belief and trust in people as I find them and the basis that everyone is good and honest until proved other wise. Apparently not here, but that outlook hadn't really caused me a problem before in my life. I continue to help old ladies across the street, I continue to wave at cars with no lights, I continue to help mothers with babies, because I believe I should, it is an integral part of me. I am grateful to all who have helped me but there is no more help coming. I do need those around me to be supportive, not critical, any more criticism and I will take a shotgun and go shoot something. But then I think of my son and think, control it, deal with it, put up with it and get on with it. What else can I do?
I have no idea how many jobs and agencies I sent my CV to this week. I have acquaintances passing my CV onto people they know. I have friends asking me to fix computers and if I can I do it for nothing in that they are friends and I hope they will tell others.
I have an interview Saturday, it doesn't come from Bad planning or feeling sorry for myself. I have CV's to give to Agencies in Nice; it doesn't come from sitting on my ass doing nothing.
I am truly sorry that I am a proud intelligent, frightened and brokenhearted man. I am truly sorry that I am not yet my full great and bigger self. I am truly sorry I am so bad with cash and I am truly sorry to the world that I am at fault. I have no right to ask anything of anyone, but as people don't ask me and I always offer when I can, sometimes I do ask. So I am asking for faith and encouragement and a kick up the ass from time to time. I am asking for patience. I do not know the me who is forgetful and distracted and sits for a while absentmindedly reflecting on what has happened and then having no idea if it has been hours or minutes that have passed. I do not know the me who cannot sleep and then cannot get up and then can't arrive on time, as I was always punctual in my former life. Yes I am sure I have been an idiot and an asshole but not a bad hearted or bad minded one just an undisciplined guy looking for love and understanding. Now I am learning to stuff that away and to look for the things that are material. I don't honestly really know how to do that but I am learning. I am learning a new discipline, and a new faith. Because heck if no one else believes in me anymore I still do. I am not giving up this fight, not even over my dead body. I will make a life in this god damn place, I will pay off all my debts, I will repay all my friends, if I have any left when this is over, and if I don't I will repay them anyway and find new real friends who will let me support them. I am me, Colm Maguire 37 years old, living in the Cote d'Azur and not really having any clue what's going on but doing my damnednest to cope with it anyway. I am strong, I am beginning to think I am invincible but fuck it I am only human. Yes it's all my fault but anyone who might read this all I will ask you is what the hell would you do in my place?
I need to explain something that apparently people just don't get and I am stunned that no one gets it. Let me be the first to say that I am at fault. I made mistakes in life. However I am human too. I didn't plan to have my heart wrenched out and stood on, and no matter how difficult my marriage was I am not someone to give up and walk away from a difficult situation and I genuinely believed I could improve the situation and make things better. So there I am practically alone, with no one as a friend who can listen, or support or advise. Fuck it since Last July I had never been alone so much as I have this last 6 months. Yes I felt sorry for myself and for my son. I felt like a failure, like I had wasted 7 years of my life trying to make something work that couldn't. I was angry and still am at my ex and her family and like it or not I have to put up with her ignorance, coldness, carelessness and downright rudeness till my son is 18 and then and only then can I tell her what I feel. If I do it before hand I am afraid I will not get to see my son. I didn't know what divorce was; it only became legal in 1999 I think, in Ireland so I hadn't grown up with a culture that was familiar with it. I never imagined that someone who would ask for a church wedding would then 2 years later throw it in the dustbin. Yes I was naive.
So imagine it this way, here is a guy who was so emotionally fucked up he couldn't think straight and so he didn't bother to read the fine print in his contracts. All of which I got after his marriage broke up. I also spent 5 months running around like a complete idiot trying to find somewhere to live, refusing one place which was good and cheap but because his French wasn't great he misunderstood who was on the phone, and with his confidence bashed he didn't have the courage to ask the person to repeat themselves. Oh well I thought, it will happen. It did. I found a couple who offered to go guarantor and when push came to shove they backed out. I couldn't understand the details either of what I was being told when I went to places like the CAFF, Agent Immobilier, or anywhere else where people didn't speak English, I just got the general idea, as I was already stressed, nervous, and alone and I really needed a friend to help. There was no one. I asked my ex and she politely told me to get lost.
Okay, I took it on the chin, actually I didn't, I collapsed in disbelief. I had to continue teaching a lot every day when my heart was breaking, and I was terrified about what was going to happen to my son. My future outlook had been shattered. Well I had already ploughed all the money I had into a wreck of a house in Falicon. While my wife worked and I had to be home to put my son to school and meet him again and there being just 3 buses per day in that time, I couldn't get a job anywhere because I couldn't get anywhere so the savings went.
Moving on I realised late in January that For the months of February and March I would be screwed basically, and I managed to get work with two other schools, However due to classes being cancelled and people not showing up, and other people not able to pay what they say they can, I often miscalculated how much I was earning each month. (My fault I know).
For instance the 6 euros I was left short today would fill my bike for a week.
I am deeply ashamed (my fault) to work in McDonalds and while already struggling with self-confidence and esteem that would be the worse thing I could do. McDo represents everything I detest and I haven't set foot inside it in nigh on 20 years.
I sent CV's off every time I saw a job that I thought I could do, but hang on I can't write well in French so now I need to push and learn more French. Easy really, I have a broken heart, I am stressed, no one to help and I am supposed to go find a job and learn French like it is a spring day and all is good with the world. The only thing I ever wanted to do in life was make films and tell stories and I haven't done any of it since I left Ireland and I am getting left behind and so my final dream is going up in smoke. I find myself in a strange land, (my choice,) I find myself alone (not my choice) I find it intensely difficult to regulate the bad, negative side of things, and keep my head up because most days I just want to cry, and most days I just want to get on with and make money. I can't see how to balance anything and I don't know what I am doing. This is a very different guy from the one who left Ireland nearly two years ago. Creative, energetic, fit, dynamic, I am now a shadow of my former self. My strength and resolve are there but my energy and state of mind are not. I had to stop my pension; my savings account and I have run up debts in and around 5000 euros. I am not proud of myself, I am ashamed of my situation, so I refute that it is by choice that I am in the situation I am in. I don't refute that it is my fault. Of course it is. But I have never been the one to hide under a rock in case in rains and I often expect the worst thinking that if it happens, then at least I won't be disappointed. I cannot and could not foresee being abandoned and being abused by so many. If I could foresee that, I wouldn't get up in the morning, and I wouldn't be alive now either. This is my strength. My belief and trust in people as I find them and the basis that everyone is good and honest until proved other wise. Apparently not here, but that outlook hadn't really caused me a problem before in my life. I continue to help old ladies across the street, I continue to wave at cars with no lights, I continue to help mothers with babies, because I believe I should, it is an integral part of me. I am grateful to all who have helped me but there is no more help coming. I do need those around me to be supportive, not critical, any more criticism and I will take a shotgun and go shoot something. But then I think of my son and think, control it, deal with it, put up with it and get on with it. What else can I do?
I have no idea how many jobs and agencies I sent my CV to this week. I have acquaintances passing my CV onto people they know. I have friends asking me to fix computers and if I can I do it for nothing in that they are friends and I hope they will tell others.
I have an interview Saturday, it doesn't come from Bad planning or feeling sorry for myself. I have CV's to give to Agencies in Nice; it doesn't come from sitting on my ass doing nothing.
I am truly sorry that I am a proud intelligent, frightened and brokenhearted man. I am truly sorry that I am not yet my full great and bigger self. I am truly sorry I am so bad with cash and I am truly sorry to the world that I am at fault. I have no right to ask anything of anyone, but as people don't ask me and I always offer when I can, sometimes I do ask. So I am asking for faith and encouragement and a kick up the ass from time to time. I am asking for patience. I do not know the me who is forgetful and distracted and sits for a while absentmindedly reflecting on what has happened and then having no idea if it has been hours or minutes that have passed. I do not know the me who cannot sleep and then cannot get up and then can't arrive on time, as I was always punctual in my former life. Yes I am sure I have been an idiot and an asshole but not a bad hearted or bad minded one just an undisciplined guy looking for love and understanding. Now I am learning to stuff that away and to look for the things that are material. I don't honestly really know how to do that but I am learning. I am learning a new discipline, and a new faith. Because heck if no one else believes in me anymore I still do. I am not giving up this fight, not even over my dead body. I will make a life in this god damn place, I will pay off all my debts, I will repay all my friends, if I have any left when this is over, and if I don't I will repay them anyway and find new real friends who will let me support them. I am me, Colm Maguire 37 years old, living in the Cote d'Azur and not really having any clue what's going on but doing my damnednest to cope with it anyway. I am strong, I am beginning to think I am invincible but fuck it I am only human. Yes it's all my fault but anyone who might read this all I will ask you is what the hell would you do in my place?
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
Just wondering what you would like
Talking to a friend today I thought it would be a good idea to post up here a simple question that I am hoping many of you who read this blog and have linked to it might be so good as to answer for me.
What would you like to buy from France? I am going to give you three general choices. a) food as in chocolate, olive oil, roasted peppers, b) antique furniture or c) clothing and perfume.
Please do take the time to email and respond it might solve some of my cash flow if you do.
Cheers
collie
What would you like to buy from France? I am going to give you three general choices. a) food as in chocolate, olive oil, roasted peppers, b) antique furniture or c) clothing and perfume.
Please do take the time to email and respond it might solve some of my cash flow if you do.
Cheers
collie
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Learning to love the shit
Wisdom tells me that perhaps before I post this blog I shouldn’t even write it. But heck it’s 320am in the morning and I can’t sleep. Already I know I will have to proof read but although I can’t sleep I am really tired.
There is just too much in my head. So here it is. I will say this once and spell it out clearly for the world and its mother to hear and then I will talk about it no more publicly, at least not on the internet. I work as an English teacher in a foreign country that is part of Europe but does not recognise any diploma or degree from outside of it’s own borders.
I cannot get a permanent contract as a teacher; it’s a way for the schools to avoid paying the many taxes imposed by the French government. Before Christmas I earned 1200 euro a month for November, October and September, and although December and January were not great, I didn’t realise due to bad reading ability in French, that February and March would be just as bad if not worse.
I had struggled for five months to find a place to live. Due to not having a CDI, which is a Contrat Durée Indéterminée, in other words a permanent contract, no one wanted to lease to me. Apparently it’s really hard to throw people out of accommodation here in France even when they don’t pay. Six agents, and six independent owners, and one couple who really made life difficult for me by letting me down as guarantors for my rent, after they themselves suggesting it would be a good idea, I finally found a young agent willing to cut a deal and give me a three month rolling contract. Great. I managed to leave my ex’s home, and set up on December 1st 2004 in a new place, with a new found freedom. The fact that I was in the one place I could be thrown out of didn't bother me as I didn't realise what was coming.
It cost me over 2000 euros to get my foot in the door and poof, all my reserves of cash were gone. Then came the problem with reading. I hadn't understood my contracts, and most of my classes dissappeared. I worked about 12 hours in February and in March I have officially worked 22, plus the 10 that were worked illegally as in under the table, and as often happens when you go under the table, you get a kick. There are some hours from Monaco too but not much.
In January having realised what was coming I went to different organisations asking for temporary assistance, shit I have paid my European taxes for years now and it’s about time I got something back.
To cut a long story short, the social assistant didn’t really assist, the CAF, those who allocate funds, didn’t allocate but 35 euro to my plight, and the RMI, which I called Really Mired In it, told me politely to piss off. The long and the short is like this, I earned 630 euros this month, of which I will be paid only 500, and only 216 of it is official. 480 of which is my rent, that leaves 10 to pay off my 200 overdraft, my phone bill, my petrol, my printing for classes, my stamps for job applications and various letters complaining to the above organisations, oh yeah and food and water. Apart from the debts I ran up on my credit card from Ireland which is maxed out, the five grand I already owe to family and friends, and the fact I am going home next week, for my sons birthday and my parents 50th wedding anniversary, and I can’t get anything for anyone, well apart from that life is enjoyable. Besides, if I stayed here, the schools are all on holidays and that would be just crazy.
Now don’t get me wrong please. This is not a pity me piece. This is I can’t sleep and I need to get it off my chest. Because for one thing although I can no longer smell the shit, as I am so deep in it, I realise that for all the fears, life is damn good. I am firstly living in a good-looking environment.
There are people around who I care about immensely and I think they care about me a bit. Neither am I sitting on the few laurels I have left. Three new CV’s have been done up this week. More than a few job searches were done and more than a few speculative applications were made. The fact that these things take time and I don’t have it, really doesn’t help. I have not yet gone to the charities that hand out food as I am too proud and perhaps too silly and as I already told you all, I am not brave enough either.
So having gone up rather late to the two Arab sisters to try and boost my morale, (it took a while as all they did was bitch about how difficult it is and get me more depressed), I was touched by the wisdom that is H. H has I have already said in a previous post, is woman lacking in confidence and her financial situation is worse than mine. I haven’t gone days without eating yet. H is a qualified civil engineer but apparently Algerian engineering is different to French engineering and she has gone back to school at night and can’t get a day job to feed herself.
Last week she went to a Catholic organisation that fed both the girls for the week. This week perhaps with some shame of going back again, they tried another place, another religion, and another street. H walked in with a friend from one of islands in the Indian Ocean. The conversation from the two volunteers in front of them went along the lines of How dirty Arabs are and how dirty Tunisians in particular are. How Tunisia itself is full of Mosquitoes and how rubbish and filth line the streets. One woman in particular didn’t see why they should help these filthy Arab people only to see them bring their dirt to the streets of France, Mais non, suremont pas.
Noticing the two young ladies who came in they then engaged them in a conversation about hair, as H’s hair is beautiful and after months of being badgered by a friend and I, she has finally relented and wears it loose over her shoulders. Then of course the lady who didn’t like dirt and mosquitoes asked H where she was from. H said Algeria, and she pointed out that she had been to Tunisia several times and it is not how the lady had described it. In fact the lady who didn’t like Tunisia had never been there. The odd thing this time, is that the lady didn’t even flinch and complimented her on her skin. This is unlike the old woman who H helped across the road one day. The old lady was blind. H took her to the supermarket and helped her do her shopping, and brought her home. At her door the blind old lady mentioned that H had a nice accent, there was a little something in it, non? “I am Algerian”, said H and the blind old lady was visibly perturbed. See I am in the shit but I don’t have to go through what H gets here every day cause I am not Algerian, I am Irish. Still it doesn’t make it any easier and I don’t know how I am going to cope. And fuck it to hell I want the whole world to know.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Learning the diff
Now I know most of the readers of this here blog will have no idea whatsoever about what I mean when I mention the diff. The Diff, in Dublin means the difference, people will be heard to ask "Do you not know the diff ye thick shite ye." Now there are many sites that deal with Dublinisms and Irishims, many of which I detest because they are racist in base, and not humourous. Yes, there is a huge diff between the two. (Or as some in Dublin might say, What's the diff ? It's still bleedin funny ye know"). Yes I know and there is a diff and if you don't bleedin know it don't bleedin ask, cause I might bleedin tell ye, ye know?
Anyway after having a laugh at the french over the last couple of days I felt compelled to show that I can laugh at me own too, (anyone checking the grammar here, please note I'm writing in Dublin English and therefore the use of me instead of my is perfectly viable, acceptable, allowed, correct, and dublinesque).
So a friend who rarely emails me, sent me a link today where I read the following
2 oul ones having a chat just outside McGrath's pub in Drumcondra - obviously been living in the area all their lives when one remarked to the other "...sure all them blacks and chinese and russians - they all look the same to me..."
Now if you don't find it funny then I guess I just have too much of the black stuff in me. Anyone who doesn't understand this posting please email me or leave a comment and I will explain in full.
Anyway after having a laugh at the french over the last couple of days I felt compelled to show that I can laugh at me own too, (anyone checking the grammar here, please note I'm writing in Dublin English and therefore the use of me instead of my is perfectly viable, acceptable, allowed, correct, and dublinesque).
So a friend who rarely emails me, sent me a link today where I read the following
2 oul ones having a chat just outside McGrath's pub in Drumcondra - obviously been living in the area all their lives when one remarked to the other "...sure all them blacks and chinese and russians - they all look the same to me..."
Now if you don't find it funny then I guess I just have too much of the black stuff in me. Anyone who doesn't understand this posting please email me or leave a comment and I will explain in full.
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