WHAT DO YOU THINK OF OUR LOVE?

18.07.04


I didn’t talk to you about the most exciting part. Last night, a man and a woman were sitting next to our table. Young people, don’t think that they were old creeps (sorry, Dada, I forgot that you are not 25). So when they left –much earlier than we did-, Kostas revealed me that the girl was constantly looking at his side every time that she lifted her glass.

In general, it seemed very cool to me that my friend had ‘grabbed the look’ of a very nice young girl and I laughed out loud thinking that if we starred in an American romantic movie, the whole thing could have been completely different. The girl would leave with Kostas and I would eat burritos with her (ex) companion.

I turned back time and imagined when a few years ago I was invited to a party along with lots of couples. I let my friends make out and grab each other right in front of me and I was just sitting there looking at the ceiling or at the ashtray full of cigarette stubs or at the dress of another girl who would certainly be making out with the guy next to her soon. I was ‘pathetic’, however you want to interpret this. One day I became suddenly aware of the situation and decided to take measures. My friends told me: ‘Will you come with the two of us?’ and I replied ‘No guys. There is something wrong with the gooseberry today and I won’t be able to play it for you’. Since then, I got rid of the role of the Peeping Tom for good.


IN THE HOUSE OF INDEPENDENCE

I have been arguing a lot with my mother lately. I believe that this is the result of the fact that we have been spending lots of hours together, since she takes me to work every morning. I can’t take it with mom’s lectures any more. She doesn’t like a thing, including the way I drive, the way I express myself, the way I object to things she says and so on. All right. All moms act like this but that doesn’t bother me. I really want to be independent and I know that this is not going to happen as long as I am in Greece; not because I am actually accustomed to the comfort of the house but because wherever I move, if it’s going to be in the same city, my mom is going to call me 15 times a day to see if I’m all right or she’ll be running behind me with a small lunchbox, in case I lose a calorie or something.

I am mad at myself: I keep saying that I’ll be independent and I do nothing about it. (Where are you, Penelope, who told me all those things?) I know, Papillon, you’ll say again that the responsibility is entirely my own and you will be right. I’ve organized a programme: As soon as I pay for the car, I will rent a studio somewhere near here and I will be having fun with myself. I will face my parents’ insecurities whether wanting it or not. I think that, if I make the first steps towards my independence, they will start figuring out themselves that I will definitely not die without them (biologically, at least).

I wish I had LOTS AND LOTS OF MONEY and could build a luxurious center of independent living for people with a disability in Greece. Anybody who would want to go there, obtaining education on independent living would be offered for as long as it would be wanted, on the basis of reasonable fees of course (and not on extravagant prices). People would therefore spend their days in a communal space, being thus able to meet lots of people (this would not be obligatory) and live independently. Of course, this ‘house’ would be open to every visitor (not necessarily a guest). Otherwise, it would end up being a ghetto.

What do you think of the whole idea here? What are our chances of achieving something like that? Do you think it would be worth it?