Life’s a B……………….

Sheen says:


No doubt many of you will recall the song by Wreckless Eric that starts: “When I was a young boy, my mama said to me / There’s only one girl in the world for you, and she probably lives in Tahiti”. Now, my mama never said that to me, obviously. In fact, I can’t remember much of what she said. But I do remember the time when I was a young girl. My mama was there, of course, and my papa, and my twin brother Heen, and we all got on all right. One of the things I always remember was a gigantic beach towel we had, that had a picture of a smiley face sprawling on a deck chair, holding some sort of Hawaiian cocktail and sporting some very uncool sunglasses. Above this scene, there were the words, “LIFE’S A BEACH”. I didn’t really know what this meant at that time (I must have been about eight years old when we somehow acquired this towel) but it was a phrase I used a lot at school and with my friends, when I wanted to mean something like, “Hey, let’s have some fun”.


A few years later (I must have been in my early teens), I came across the expression “Life’s a bitch”, and decided that the sunbathing smiley face must have been misquoted. Since that discovery, I have cyclothymically lurched between both definitions of life. Up until a week ago, if you’d grabbed me in the street and asked me, “Beach or bitch?”, I would have probably have gone for the former. But last week something happened that has made me switch to the latter.


I feel a bit uncomfortable writing this here. Heen has been writing wacky stuff about the Expo and a review of Unforgiven and I know it’s my turn to write something, but I don’t know if I’m going to be able. I had to see my doctor last Monday. He was very understanding and all that, (“supportive” is a nice word, too), but he reckons I am making very little improvement. I get depressed and violent far too easily; I do stupid things that I regret the next morning, then repeat them the following evening; I have blank periods when I don’t know what I’m doing; I can be loving and charming, then cruel and vicious. Which is the real me? Who am I?


Life is a bitch. It treats me badly. I know, deep down inside, that I don’t want to harm anybody, upset anybody or hurt anybody, but now and again I just feel the urge to be nasty, especially to people that matter to me. I have a fairly limited social circle, so it’s mainly Heen and my friend Soraya that get the brunt of my hate, and they’re just about used to it, not that that makes it any more forgivable. Why do I behave so horribly towards them? I think it’s a bit like when Bill Clinton was asked why he took advantage of his position to have that affair with Monica Lewinsky a few years ago. He said he did it, “because he could”. I know I can be the most loathsome, repulsive creature in the world so perhaps I feel I have the right to express myself thus. I’m not justifying myself; maybe I’m just forewarning you in case you bump into me in the streets of Zaragoza and I behave like a complete lunatic.      


But even if my doctor can’t see any improvement, I know I’m going to get over this. Most of the time I’m in “beach mode” whereas not very long ago I used to spend most of my days in “bitch mode”. One of the reasons Heen and I set up this blog was for me to sort out this bipolar thing and I’d like to think it’s working. Bear with me if I sometimes come across as a morose, self-pitying emo.


I’m going to look for that towel. 

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