(This post was originaly written on Feb 20, one week ago)

How easily do people forget?
Maybe I have a problem. Maybe I attach myself to people so deeply that when they're not around I suffer badly. Haven't heard from anybody. The city is starting to look like home, in a bad way, you know? People do work and do have to wake up early and do stay home occasionally. This is something all my life I've had trouble understanding. I don't like routine but I don't like when I don't have one, I was used to my routine back in London, even though it was tiring and sometimes boring. I think the problem was finding out good things too late, when everybody had made up their minds to leave town.
I left some CVs in some schools. I don't know if they're calling back or not, but again the feeling of trying to convince someone you're worth hiring. Bukowski knew it best. The last time I looked for work was before working at Silvios, which was a job that Ricardo and Claudinha had gotten me, so it wasn't actually that much an effort. Maybe the last time was September 2005, when I was working at Hobgoblin's and left CVs all over Oxford Street and went back home empty-handed. When I started at the hotel Caio arranged for me to work there and even at Hobgoblin's it didn't take a lot of effort because Ethan had spoken to Grant before I arrived in London. And walking these streets here is impossible for me, the unpronouncible names, the zillion consonants you have to read in a word. By the time you manage to find out in which street you are 15 minutes of your life are already gone, never to have back. I can't read maps. I had a Krakow map in my hands and when I was going to the third school I managed to go the opposite direction, and once I finally found the bloody street I was told the school didn't exist anymore (I researched a bunch of language schools online). On my way back to Rynek (downtown Krakow), I realized that I'd walked the longest possible distance to the unexisting school.
I don't know, maybe I've been having a bad week.
And the companionship is not helping either. Living with Patricia is exausting sometimes. She is nice, I know deep inside there's a lot of potential, but she manages to be more pessimistic than I am - I know, I thought that would be impossible. In a way this situation makes me feel more active, like 'I don't wanna end up like her' or something. But she's always tired and complaining about the arm that she injured a few weeks ago, and eating all the time. I'm not eating that much because I look at her and just can't eat. Sometimes she's great, we laugh and have a lot of fun, but sometimes it's unbearable. I guess that's what having a roomie is... While I'm writing this (I'm writing at home and then I transfer to the blog online the next day) she's sleeping in front of the TV. It's 8:40pm and she's fucking sleeping! Then within an hour she'll wake up, prepare this huge meal, complain that she ate a lot and go to sleep again. We could have gone to a different bar, meet people, walk along Rynek, listen to some music, I don't know! Do whatever other than staying at home! Go where tourists go! Go dancing! She's been here for three months now and doesn't know anybody (well, it happend to me in London as well because I didn't have anybody to go out with), but now that I'm here, I'm a girl, not a gay guy, we can go to places where the guys are! We end up going to gay places because it's the places Junior knows, which for me there's no problem at all because I'm used to it, but once she gets to those places she complains that there's a lot of gays and she wants to go home! Come fucking on! The birthday party on Saturday that Junior and I went at this cool place, full of good-looking guys, she didn't wanna go AT ALL. When we came back and told her about the place, she asked why we didn't call her! Double come fucking on!!!
Well, I feel better now, I just needed to say what was stuck in my throat.