Partying party

Once I wrote about politics I thought this is it, there’s nothing more that I’d say regarding the subject, but somehow now it seems to me like an inexhaustible topic.

I hate poverty. It makes people with no criteria even more desperate and even less hesitating.

My aunt (my mother’s sister) and her husband, my uncle are in the same political party. One day last week I got an invitation from their daughter to come to a closed type party at a local club. I don’t know the exact square surface, but it is on two levels. It is quite big. There’d be some famous band singing, but I’m not quite a fan so I told her that I’ll think about it. In the meantime I’ve met my uncle who told me: “Listen, I’ve got two tickets for Friday night party, it’s for our people only.”

So I got it right, the party is partying. So they tried to trick me, to come there, have some “good” time and then they’d start bugging me until one of us dies to join them.

They do what they do, but what I hate is that fact that one of my closest relatives looks at me as I’m some kind of a score. She’d probably get some good points for me, besides she thinks it is the right decision and besides she asked me nothing about it.

I remember why she joined. By her story, they blackmailed her to join or otherwise she’d loose her job. But it seems like she forgot it. Or simply it never happened as she told us. She believes that people who are willing to do anything, who are less educated and less successful, who can harm other people because they have no limits and they’d do anything for money are good for me, the one who spent 6 years studying how to help others, who speaks three languages and appreciates good will, effort and equality above all. I have flaws but those people disguise me. And what hurts me is how my closest relatives underrate me. She wants to push me in it, without asking me anything. She wants me to do the job for the party which includes lies, scams and blackmails; sharing leaflets on the streets and convincing people that it is good to join it. In return I’d get three months of paid job under contract in local health center. This is what I mean when I say that young people are humiliated in this country. They left us nothing and it is not enough still, they want us to be even more degraded. But my aunt thinks it looks like it should. And that it is the right thing.

In her position, I’d keep my children and my closest relative’s children aside, they don’t have to step in politics if they don’t want to; I’d care for their qualities and remind them every day how good they are. Instead, I got silent condemnations how I shouldn’t be that enthusiastic about leaving this country.

I don’t want to. Can’t you see? Do you think that I’d be happy in some foreign country where there’s none of my closest people? Where there’s no one I could rely on to? Why do you do this to us, why?  We are all your children. You force us to leave. You leave us unfair options. I don’t want some molesting, uneducated bully to tell me what to do, but if it is what you offer me, I’d better leave. Elsewhere I might not know anyone but they’d probably appreciate me more objectively. I hate this people. We are the country, the government, the institutions. There’s no need to blame some illusive term such as one of these I mentioned because the people are those to blame. Our adults are those to blame. Why do you do this to us?

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Marigold, I hate you

I hate doing this job. I hate the place where I have to spend most of my time. I hate my current superior. I hate.

Since the doctor in whose shift I were volunteering went on a month long vacation I’m forced to spend my shift with Marigold. She’s only couple of years older than I am.

But years aren’t the problem. Years are years. You grow up. You get smarter, wiser. You’re once young and stupid. You learned not to be. Or you didn’t. But it’s your choice.

I hate your subjectivity, Mari. You’re an idiot. You’re not the God. You help people by sticking to clear, substantiated rules, that’s what you do. You don’t choose who to help. You help equally. You’re neutral. You’re white. That’s one of the symbolic purposes of your appearance. You’re above all. You do good. Objective good. Good for all; not God for all.

The first time I saw how ignorant, frustrated, bad and pathetic you were was that time when you didn’t want to write the report for a highschool student who came to your shift right from school because she had a tootache. You fixed her tooth, she was half an hour in your dental office and you didn’t want to write her that report, a document first of all, which proves that she was at your place at the exact time and not somewhere else during lessons, because she was in pain. But you didn’t because your tiny mind can’t acknowledge that it is not about grades, but about taking care of a juvenile individual, who’s not at home and not at school – so where is she? And what disguises me the most is that theatrical way of your abuse of professional position and how you enjoy doing it while regarding those patients as if they’re guilty and not in pain with an inappropriate explanation that you’re not obligated to prove anything for anyone – “why is she coming to me during lessons?”, is your question.

But you see, Mari, it’s not your problem. Your problem is someone’s pain, someone’s swelling, someone’s injury.

And you claim that you do good.

On the other hand Mari, you willingly referred a patient to a specialist under fake diagnosis of a disease he didn’t suffer of at all, just in order for him to pass the health commission and cure the disease he actually suffers for free. After I warned you what you did, you justified yourself as “doing a good thing and helping him”. I don’t want to mention that he’s actually very wealthy and known for it. But, it is not what we should issue. The real issue is – why is he different than that young girl? They are different indeed, but you don’t choose who to help and surely not break the law because of some subjectivity and bright self promotion. And not to say, lack of professionalism.

Beside not stepping on my side during that unclear pain treatment when you took out the tooth I was treating, there’s one ultimately disgusting thing that you did two days ago – you rudely rejected to help a patient who was late for her treatment because of transportation problems, since she’s living in the outskirts and has no car so she could come on time that day. Her bus was late, you were free at the moment, there was one hour still until the end of the shift and you didn’t want to help her. She was in pain, she came with her mother. She’s also a teenager. But you’re an idiot, Mari. You don’t know it, you never will, but you’re an idiot. By what you did, you broke the law. There’re three explicit cases and many referred to criminal acting in medicine. Unwilling to provide medical assistance is one of it Mari and you did it and if I’d told you so, you’d say that I’m exaggerating while rolling your eyes over me as if I’m maundering. We all studied it, but once again – you’re an idiot. You’re an idiot, Mari. You’re such an idiot.

Her mother was angry and insisted us to treat her because even when they’ll be coming back, they’ll have troubles with transportation and buses that are not leaving so often during summertime, and what’s even more important is that the girl’s in pain. Mari ordered me to take the patient and just left outside to smoke. I took the patient and did it in five minutes. I’ve put a medicine in her tooth and scheduled her for the next treatment. It was ended way before the shift.

I felt sad and ashamed of what I have witnessed. It’s not the way which it should be done. It’s not right. Doctor is above it all. He doesn’t choose, he helps if he can.

Calendula officinalis, or in English – Marigold, is broadly used as a traditional medicine by many peoples from ancient times until now on.  It is proved that it reduces inflammation and spasms. It is used for treating skin diseases, eye diseases and digestive problems. It is one helpful plant with curative attributes.

But I hate you Marigold, you make me feel at least uncomfortable while I have to listen to your molesting of others. You did noting to me, but I hate you, I hate you so much that I can’t wait to finish this all and never to see you again. You’re a shame to us, shame to our community, shame to our profession. You’re degrading us consciously, same as many other out there, but I’ve never been so close to someone like you nor someone like you were my supervisor, I hate you so much that I can’t even tell you that, because if I’d do you’d probably think that I’m jealous of you, but you can’t even imagine the number of ways I’d use to avoid becoming you. You’re a disgrace. I can’t even tell you how much I hate you, you wouldn’t get it. You just wouldn’t get it. You’re an idiot, Mari. I hate you.

To speak out or to sneak out?

It is almost a year now since I moved back to my cosy, little hometown. I spent six years in a place which gave me full freedom to seek myself, find it and express it in a very own way. That place hugged me, as the lyrics of a famous folk song describe.

I remember stepping on its grounds seven years ago. As an average kid from province I couldn’t believe that there’s a place on Earth like this. Messy, crowded, noisy, with beggers on every corner. I cried for my countryside. I thought this place would never accept me. But the show went on. I was a mess, although I wasn’t quite aware of it and at the same time – bigoted! When you’re a kid, they tell you what’s good and you keep following it.

Anyway, I’ve met all kinds of people: odd, talented, beautiful, sharp, dominant, stupid, regressive, silly, eccentric, different from everything I have ever seen by then. But those six years were also full of love, expectations, understanding, hate, misery, heartbreaks, stresses, exploration, separating and new personal inventions. I knew that city had truly accepted me when I felt free to speak out and present myself as someone different than I used to be before,  loudly and freely without any doubts or fears that I could be abandoned, criticized, marked and rejected. I did whatever I want because it had sense. It had clear sense to me. And the relationship I had with this city was the best I’ve ever had. The city is the one who said to me: “I love what you’ve become.”

And me of course… I love what you gave me.

I am a dancer. As I said in my first post, I always go round. And I’m not just a dancer, I am also a doctor. It is not the title that makes me so proud, really. It appeared that anyone who’s enough stubborn can become one. Without any other qualities. I used to be a lot, but these two I’ll keep as my personal badges, my two selves, one old and one new, different, merged in my present self.

About this time of the year I came back home bringing heaviness in my chests. But no matter what, that’s how it is. I kept carrying out myself the way I liked, the way the city loved me and the way I loved myself. I promised I’ll keep in touch with the city and my favourite people who are still living there. I promised I won’t give up my pole dancing classes. But after a while, I felt what distance feels like and that it is not that easy now to manage all the promises.

My old-new surrounding started pushing me a bit. My parents kept repeating me that I’m a doctor now. Although, I can’t suit in that role completely. I don’t even like when people call me a doctor. Soon I should start seeking for a job right here. I came back to the place where I was born, where everyone I’ve known since I was a kid live, where people I used to see in the streets but never met them personally live, where all my old loves and crushes live, where all my friends and their friends, and friends of their friends live… Somehow everyone knows who I am. At least they’ve heard. They were all around me, but still it happened to me that I began loosing people. Lonely surrounded.

The first shocking act of rejection was made by my very old friend. That rejection started some time earlier, but emerged that night. I came in that place wearing myself as I always do. I was in a company of three people, we’ve had a great time, music was brilliant, vine was tasty … and so was my cigarette! It passed less than a minute when I received a threatening message saying: “leave that cigarette at instant!” At the moment, I was a bit confused, since I’ve never faced a situation like this before. There were several questions that bothered me related to that kind of acting:

  1. I’ve got a message filled with this kind of content from a person who is not here, who was invited to be here, but turned it down as if I was some irrelevant marginal person
  2. Why so heavily writing and so harsh if I’m not doing anything to you, since you’re not here?
  3. How do YOU know, since again, you’re not here?

I didn’t have to look around much since two tables far there was sitting “a friend of friend” – person. I replied politely: “what was going on?” since I had no idea what else to reply. Couple of minutes later a cell-phone-long-distance argument was set up. By the acting of my spy I saw that they two were collaborating (?!) sharing screenshots of a conversation I had with my friend. As the argument progressed many disgusting  stuff unrolled, lies and told secrets. I realized that the person who I’ve known for a decade, almost half of my life, striped my being bare naked in front of an audience who have known not so much about me, until then and represented me as a less worthy.  I felt a cocktail of emotions, but the thing that defeated me the most was my own reaction. I should have just let it go, as if I never received it and end that fellowship in a more suitable way. But no, I told her: “stay away.” And so she did. She never called neither messaged anymore. Not even tried to fix it up, to bring it to some more civilized level where we could at least say: “hi” one to another when we pass by in the street.

I fell into a trap. Like I’m some kind of a badger. I fell into a trap and degraded myself hidden under the idea of integrity defense.

People are people. They will always make idiotic moves. What moved me in this situation is the fact that I’m still growing. I need to tie up my emotions and become a real adult from the inside. I need to learn a lot. I need to conquer a lot. I need to get the communication right. I need to raise. And the thing that scares me the most is that I’ll drown in this place and become same as everyone here, that I’ll fail, that they’ll convince me that I am wrong and that they are right.

In order to protect my personality, my thoughts and believes I signed up for language lessons. Those lessons were the days in the week when I sat down for an hour and a half with people who have had the same goals – to be better and to succeed. That kept my mind and soul together.

And constant suppression, it is not the cigarette, it is also the dance, the hair, the speech I’m using. The words I’m saying, the sentences I’m making, they call me odd, often they don’t understand a single word of my story, but then they freely conclude that I’m offending them. In the politest case they call me different. They don’t appreciate my tolerance and comprehension; it is categorized as something bad, useless and characteristic of the weak.

That night, I was that cigarette. It represented all I was. It’s an ugly habit. But more than a cigarette then was ugly.

I quitted  smoking couple of months ago. Not because of others, it’s just not my vice. But I’ll profoundly cherish the rest of my deviations. Or finally just sneak out…