Thursday 29 July 2010

Who is George?

Some have asked.
Does it matter?
George is a normal guy, an extraordinary guy, an intriguing guy, a simple guy, a flowed guy, a perfect guy, a real man, an imaginary character.
Come and meet George. See what happens. Tell me if you like it, or if you hate it.

BTW, while I am here, there is something I need to bring up.
As if it wasn't hard enough for all the single gals out there, the hot married ladies are breaking hearts left, right and centre. Toy boys, grown up professionals, military men.. I won't name names, I don't need to. But these gorgeous mamas are just too sexy for their own good! Well, I think it is cool.

Wednesday 28 July 2010

One - 2

Tic tic tic 'Dear Dr Spiro, Thank you for your email. We would be delighted to support your initiative. We look forward to meeting you in person to initiate the engagement process. Kind regards, George' SEND

Tic tic tic 'Hi Helen, Walking in the office this morning I noticed that once again the meeting rooms were left in a state of disarray. Would you mind following up with all the teams to make sure they all clean after themselves? Thanks a lot, G' SEND

Tic tic tic 'Morning, beautiful! Did you sleep well? How is your day? Can't wait to see you again. Feel you.. I'd better stop. Later, gorgeous, xxx' SEND

George stretched his arms, stared aimlessly at the computer screen and then realised that his stomach was giving clear signals of hunger. Time to eat. Such a beautiful day, he found it almost a duty to leave his desk for lunch.
'Will be back shortly, Ella. Can you please take my calls if my line rings.' Ella smiled at him and carried on talking on the phone. Nice shoes, he thought. Silence. She didn't think much. As usual.

Hmmm, sandwich or sushi? 'Hey buddy, are you grabbing a bite? Shall we go to the Italian in the market?' Problem solved.

Tuesday 27 July 2010

One

George was trying to concentrate on his cuff links. Putting his shirt on was taking an unnaturally long time. The room was only half lit by the early sun. She was still sleeping. George didn't want to wake her up. And yet he couldn't help but staring at the back of her neck. Her black-haired head on the pillow facing away from him. Her elbows bent, almost pushing the sheets down. The straps of her brown nightdress.
In the right light her hair looked almost blue. He stopped himself from reaching out and touching it. George really didn't want to wake her up. He had to leave. He was late.
Found his jacket, his wallet, his sunglasses, grabbed a bagel from the bread bin.
Good morning, London

Monday 19 July 2010

Modern life is rubbish

Oh oh, grumpy alert...

Sorry, I don't mean to be negative. I am just shattered. Trying to do too many things, seeing too many people, writing too many emails, while, well, working again. I have always been criticised for my rubbish work/life balance. So my new solution to the problem is to just cram everything into each day. And today my head was spinning so fast I could hardly get out of bed.

Married Friend #1 didn't seem very surprised. She doesn't like my 'all or nothing' approach, and desperately tries to keep me on a healthy route. Com'on, since when do EI's do moderation??

And yet, I dream of retiring in a little house by the sea, with books, chocolate and friends to visit. And the web, of course. And music. No fancy clothes, no designer handbags (yep, promise, would give them up), no power struggles, no commuting, no decorating, no antiques, no fancy furniture. Just sea, sun and, well, yes, lots of sex. Which makes me wonder: what's the point of retiring when you are old?

Yes, you are right, hardly a revelation. I will go back to my desk now..

Thursday 15 July 2010

A sigh

Sorting out my study, I have recently rediscovered a letter my grandmother used to keep in her dressing table. I found it when emptying her house after she died, and to this day it remains a family mystery. The letter is dated 1944, two years before my grandparents met. I ignore the identity of the young man in question, and unfortunately there is nobody left in the family to ask. Maybe he never made it back from the war of resistance. Maybe he met somebody else. Maybe by the time my grandmother married my grandfather she had given up on waiting. Interestingly, she never sent the letter, as it is the original I keep.

I thought of copying it here for two reasons. One, Emotional Incompetence may be hereditary. Two, life is a bitch.
Apologies for the unfortunate translation.

Amore mio,
Today I saw you walk away for the last time.
You kissed me. A moment that lasted far too long. 'Just go', I was thinking.
Then, you turned back and waved goodbye.
I stood there. While you disappeared in the crowd.

It is not down to me whether I will see you again. And my brain cannot comprehend the paradox. Of life deciding for us. Of what two people may or may not be meant to be. I cannot accept that we need to submit to a destiny I would rather fight. But there is another fight awaiting you, and this must sound as the selfish mutter of a silly woman. Who should instead support your bravery, your commitment, your dedication.
Who am I to try and interpret the routes of fate? To look for reasons where there aren't any. You need to leave and defend our freedom. I need to stay and resist here. Resist to invasion, deprivation and cruelty. Changes of hearts of foolish leaders. Friends disappearing.
Your loss, the loss of all the young men and women. It will change the society we live in forever. And what am I doing? Instead of crying for our battered land, hurt and violated, I cry for the image of you, cigarette in hand, your last stare. Can I possibly be jealous of this land you chose above me, you pledged to defend, you will sacrifice your life for? No, I am not even allowed to. How pathetic would that be.

There are no days to your return to be counted.This is an open-ended road. You cannot stop until your mission is over. Until all is left is my waiting. Until the bright red of your present bleeds into the warm gold of your future. Will there be anything left for me to remember?

Goodbye, my love. Farewell. Forgive my weak words, my pointless grief. I always knew. But I find no consolation in the awareness of the ineluctably, the fragility of your embrace.

Of all the words we shared, nothing is left to say. Just a taste, a sound, your sensory footprint. Like the warm impression in the bed you will be leaving.

Mine, until you will remember. Yours, until this letter fades and disappears.

Firecracker

This must be a first. Have you ever been turned down by potential employers for being too good? Well, apparently that happened to me recently, as I just found out. And the word used to describe me was 'firecracker'. Which made me laugh for two reasons. First, I thought I really impressed them with my enthusiasm, doer attitude and strength. Second, Male Friend #1 and I often use 'firecracker' when talking about my approach to life, so their assessment was quite accurate.
However,it also made me think, as it brought up a dilemma that is bothering me these days: how much of our real selves should we allow people to see? Is there an upper limit to passion? When does enthusiasm start becoming irritating? Do we need to censor our behaviour? Should we hide our feelings or live by them?
I may have touched on this in the past days, but I feel that I have not been 100% sincere. Because, although I firmly believe in honesty, I also want to fit in, just like I did when I was 14. And sometimes it is just easier to give people what they want from you. So I just switch off, stuff my face with chocolate and wait for the storm to pass. But, no more. The people who love me, love the firecracker. The ones who don't, well I wouldn't want to be their friend or work with them either. And I am not saying it out of spite. I am saying it out of conviction. No more wasting time where I am not wanted, or wanted for something different.
I had enough.

Monday 12 July 2010

Ghost song

I have always believed this to be a strictly female problem. But I may be wrong.
I am talking about the cloak of invisibility most of us end up wearing one day or the other.

Do tell me if this scenario is at all familiar. Hot guy/girl met at a party reappears in other social circumstances. The first encounter was all chatting, giggling, flirting. You know it is in the bag. So, slight tinkle in your eye as you direct your steps towards the attractive being. But, as you smile with a sense of acknowledgement, they give you a vacuous look and blank you out. Or, even worse, as you extend your arm to shake hands/kiss cheek/whatever, they give you a polite smile and say 'nice meeting you'. Instant death seems the only way out.

How can it be that the same person who gets beeped and shouted compliments in the street, or smiled at by cute guys looking at her sitting in a cab, would turn overnight into the ghost of women past? (I am talking about Single Friend #1, in case you are wondering) What makes people of the opposite sex press 'delete' when seeing our number in their address book? Why are we supposed to play the 'I am not interested' game in order to bring some interest about our way?

A wise Italian lady reminded me of the old saying, 'in amore vince chi fugge'. Hmmm, in theory it is kind of obvious, but I am not quite sure. Because, you see, running away is my speciality, so why am I not the Olympic champion of love affairs, rather than an EI? And isn't there a fine line between confidence and being a twit?

Hey, excuse me, where are you going? What are you clicking? I am talking to you. Hey, I am talking, I am not done ye...

Friday 9 July 2010

What goes around comes around

A few times in the past I have touched on the subject of feedback. How honest one can be in giving it, how prepared for the worse one needs to be in asking for it. As you may have noticed, I am pretty direct in expressing my opinions. I don't do sugar-coating. So it is only fair for me to accept harsh criticism. Easier said than done.

Today I made the fatal mistake of showing yesterday's blog post to Male Friend #3. Instead of giving me even a little smile, he looked up and enquired how much time I waste writing this 'crap'. Ouch.. Ouch.. OUCH!
First reaction: nonchalant smile. Second reaction: well, he doesn't like 30 Rock and SATC, he is not my target demographics (do I have one?). Third reaction: hmmm, that wasn't one of my finest moments, maybe he is right. Final reaction: how would you feel if I called crap what you do in your spare time!

So, there you go. First bad review and I crumble. Thoughts such as 'can do better', 'don't settle for bad writing', 'strive for the best' crowd my mind. In addition to 'I should probably stop here', 'maybe I am wasting my time'. But then, hang on, this isn't War and Peace. This is a blog! I have fun writing it, and some lovely friends have fun reading it.
Let's put it all back into prospective. If it is too low-brow for some, then fine. I doubt it will affect my chances of being nominated for next year's Pulitzer. And twenty minutes on the train to work is hardly a lot of time to be wasted! That's it, I am toughening up and will carry on writing. Until the few of you out there enjoy it.

By the way, in case you are wondering, I am still not speaking to him.

Thursday 8 July 2010

Hanging on the telephone

Driin, drriiinn, drrrrriiiiiinnnnn
EI: hello?
Friend with Boyfriend: hi honey, where are you?
EI: ehm, at home, where you called me. In the kitchen with a cup of coffee to be precise
FB: oh, that's not your mobile, then.. Anyway, you are back, finally!
EI: I am indeed, and working again too
FB: oh no, so you won't be available for lunch and drinks like before?
EI: unlikely, but I can try..
FB: so what about, let me check my diary, hang on, one second, here it is, hold on.. Hmmm, this week is a bit of a nightmare, next week.. I've got Tuesday evening. Would it work?
EI: I am afraid not. How's Thursday instead?
FB: ugly, ugly, ugly. Has to be the week after. Shall we say Monday?
EI: Monday it is. Will call you to arrange, OK?
FB: wonderful! Bye bye, my darling
Click

Beeep
BBerry messenger text from FB: hey, honey, did we say Monday?
EI: yep
FB: sorry sorry sorry, don't hate me, can't do
EI: OK, when then?
FB: Thu?
EI: cool, Thu it is
FB: :* u r great

Vibration
Email from FB: hello, how are you? How's the new job going? Are we still OK for Thursday? Where would you like to go? Where shall we meet? I am not eating carbs these days and wouldn't really want to drink. Maybe we should go to the cinema. Do you know what is on near your place? Let me know xxx
Email back from me (with a certain sense of exhaustion): hi there, I am fine, thank you. The new job is still new, so very good. I have checked the cinema and unless you want to see SATC2 again (which would imply me committing suicide by jumping from the cinema gallery and being impailed on a cocktail stick) there isn't much really. Theatre? Let me know xxx

Beep
FB: what if we go for a walk on the Heath?
EI: shall we do a weekend then?
FB: yes, awesome, Sat?
EI: yes, Sat morning is free, 10?
FB: oh no :(( 12?
EI: 12 it is
FB: love u xxxx

Driiin
FB: this is your mobile, right?
The Man: sorry, who is this?
FB: oh dear, so sorry, is she in?
(The Man, covering the speaker: one of your slightly deranged friends..)
EI: hello?
FB: you should really give me your mobile number again..
EI: there, just sent you a text
FB: got it! Perfect! So, where shall we meet on Sunday?
EI: you mean Saturday?
FB: no, I mean Sunday. I am flying back from Madrid on Saturday
EI: aaahhhh, you said Saturday, I am busy on Sunday!!
FB: I knew it! You just started working and you are already forgetting about me. I had so much to tell you..
Click

Whatever news she had, I guess that's a story you will have to wait to hear..

Wednesday 7 July 2010

Don't make me laugh

Last night, with the now compulsory post-football match gloom, I started flicking through the plethora of Sky channels, when I came across the horrid Bridge Jones second film. I think I watched it several years ago when strapped in an airplane seat, during those unfortunate days when personalised displays were not available, and we were all obliged to follow the same revolting film, like lemmings. Therefore, my permanence on the above channel lasted about.. 3 seconds. Just enough to remind me of the ridiculous scam we women are victims of. The cute, rich, successful guy, with the fabulous career, the perfect family and the superb manners is NEVER going to fall in love with an idiotic, chubby, badly dressed, neurotic bore! It just doesn't happen.
A similarly misleading message is conveyed by an advert I have recently seen in Italy, where a clever, funny, not very good looking girl repairs a cute guy's car and drives him away, while his beautiful blond girlfriend is left behind.

Now, now, now. I am not being negative here. Oh no. I am just being honest. And frankly my theory can be very easily confirmed by any sincere man. Indeed The Man himself, when asked if the Italian advert had any remote chances of being plausible, admitted that it was just a load of bollocks. He managed to save his shins by adding immediately that some girls are lucky enough to be clever, funny and beautiful.. But that's like a confession under torture: pointless, and therefore not counting as evidence.

What I am trying to say is that rather than sitting on a sofa with a tub of icecream, watching the above-mentioned Bridget Bore, we should be loving ourselves and striving to be what we aim to be. No man can substitute self respect and a general feeling of well-being. Why should they? And if at least the Italian advert portrayed a clever lady with ideas and a sense of adventure, something to aspire to, Bridget Idiot has no redeeming features. She should not be celebrated, she should be abhorred. Hugh Grant and Colin Firth fighting for her? Give me a break. Have you seen Colin's beautiful and smart Italian wife?

There you go, something that gets me all fired up. The Bridgets, Forrest Gumps, George Ws and Jades of this world. The consumer-tailored raw models that celebrate global idiocy. That invite you to linger in your ignorance because everything 'will sort itself out in the end'. It won't. Being positive means creating opportunities, actively chasing dreams, cultivating interests, helping people, being a 360-degree human being. And if fate gives you a hand, then it is like tail-wind accelerating your flight. Fortuna audaces juvat. Icecream and bad television don't.

Tuesday 6 July 2010

The chicken dance

Sunny London morning. Walking by the river on my way to work. Bizarre scene. A young lady in her 30's (yes, that's young) exercising her teeny tiny dog.. with a rubber chicken! Yep, the little lad clearly wasn't into tennis balls. He loved to fetch the plastic bird instead.
Then, on my way back from work, same scene. There they were. Again? Still? Did he spend the whole day chasing a chicken? Wasn't she bored to tears?

It kind of reminded me of the EI love life. Chasing the same man-made dream for days and days, running up and down along a river that keeps on flowing, while everybody stares in disbelief. But I tell you what. The tiny dog looked ever so happy. So who cares about what everybody else says, as long as it works for you.
In a way, after trying to change, to improve, to gain some useful insights, isn't it better to have the courage of honesty, and just be who you are? To admit weaknesses, failures and impossibilities, and embrace them? Is it possible to turn all the crazy energy into something positive? To stop giving into frustration and just concentrate on the silver lining?

And you really really never know. Against all odds.

Monday 5 July 2010

Stop making sense

Not sure why I picked this title. It just kept twirling in my mind..
So..
What else is going on.
I made lots of new friends. So expect lots of new stories.
Single Friend #1 seems to be on her steady way to get over Sexy Guy. She still prefers sex to running, but can you blame her?
Male Friend #3 is living his obsession fully, and enjoying even more sex with his girlfriend.
Male Friend #2 has disappeared in a work mist, as has Male Friend #1. Not for long. I will soon demand attention as the crazy Italian that I am.
Twin Friend is injured and on her way to a family holiday.
Married Friend #1 has already taken off. Same for Friend with Children #1. Soon, Single Friend #2 will also abandon me.. Hang on a second. Good job I did make new friends, the old ones are all defecting!!

And your truthful? In London, all summer. New job, no holidays.
Trying to pretend to be all big and grown up.. Yes, I know, very funny.

But one good thing I have decided. From now on I will be positive all the time. Yep, no more complaining.. Shall we try?

Thursday 1 July 2010

Alive

Since so many things have happened in the last couple of weeks, I feel compelled to write again.

First of all, Best Friend got married. For those who know her (including the lady herself) quite a shock. But a very good one. The real bride was Young W. So happy, so excited, so in the zone.

BTW, honey, yes, ten years is usually the case. Not always, but usually the underlying idea.

Aaahh, love.. So contagious, uplifting, touching and just, let's face it, painful! A return to basics, away from the 'do', 'see', 'visit', 'buy'. Just love.. Not too shabby, uh?

If some have a new husband, I have a new job. End of the leisure time, I am back in business. Literally. So far, so good. Although I am a scardy cat really, as I moved only the other side of the Bridge from my old office. One of these days I will end up knocking at the wrong door, I am sure.

What else? The World Cup is providing enough painful entertainment. Like an uncorresponded crush. Full on EI territory. Hence, I am glued to the screen.
Single Friend #2 is ever so sweet. We went to see Pearl Jam (and Gomez) in Hyde Park. Yep, felt like 18 years had not passed.. (I wish) Eddie, oh Eddie. I am in my 30's, you are in your 40's, but, boy, you are hot!

Talking about heat, it is all going bonkers here. Italy was cold and rainy. England is hot and sunny.

You see, that's why I am in such a good mood. Life is full of surprises. Never, ever, ever stop believing that something is going turn out to be just.. amazing.