I am a slave, full stop!

Moving to the celebrities territory, Heath Ledger is probably a safer bet to discuss on a blog. And yet, the situation around Britney Spears is equally compelling. The latest pictures of the young woman crying in front of her house after a row with her manager (about a boyfriend!) cannot let anyone insensitive. And this is just two weeks after the pictures of Britney Spears strapped on a ambulance cart.


From the moment she became a worldwide phenomenon, what was the big deal? Not much, really: Lolita pouts on noisy beats; mass hysteria around a perfectly manufactured product; the only funny part was this extraordinary twist of the tongue when singing the 'Ls' (check the videos!). The whole thing became even more tedious last year when her personal stories started creating more publicity than her songs.


What became fascinating and terrifying is how wrong this fairy tale has turned. Or maybe there was no fairy tale! Despite the fame, the entourage, the money, the exposure to a whole lot of new opportunities, the pop princess ends up having the same life than the one she would have had coming from her white trash background: dramas, one-day wedding, uncivilised battles around her children, a sister pregnant at 16, chain of unacceptable behaviours (how many stories about her driving skills, her shopping sprees?)... This should raise a question for all of us: can we really shape our life (the commonly used 'I choose to') and escape from what preceded us? Are all hopes to be what we want to be for real or is determinism prevailing despite all our efforts? Of course, we love to believe that we have choices. Hmmm....


Slightly less philosophical, but equally terrifying, has Britney Spears any change to escape from an entourage which has probably no interest in putting a stop to this series of dramas. Not even talking about setting herself free from her own past, can Britney set herself free from the toxic people around her?

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Let's get lighter today! Here are a few whys found in a magazine.

Why do people send text messages rather than call each other?

Why is one hour a lot in the life of a butterfly?

Why within 45 years will there be no more skiing holidays?

Why do couples get mortgages on 30 years when in average they will stay no longer than 7 years together?

Why are they so many single people when it has never been so easy to meet people?

Why are they more poor workers than people who belong to Trade unions?

Why does no one say hello! when getting in the tube?

Shall I add: why does everyone seem to get into writing blogs rather than chatting with the ones they share a 30 year mortgage with?

Scarified or sacrificed?

Friday: Anniversary of eight years spent together; actually, 56 straight years: there is the x7 factor, like for dogs! Looking back at these years, only the idea of wanting plenty more comes to mind. As well as reflecting on these parts of our own individuality that we tend to forget when in a relationship.

Am contemplating between necessary compromise or true loss...

Saturday am: Conversation with my friend about relationships: the unbearable fear of seeing the other slowly falling out of love, starting a new story with another partner before ending up the existing relationship. For the one that witnesses the end, hell starts, no matter if he gives in to an imaginary scenario or senses the actual reality. Life becomes a constant struggle into compromises to save the relationship.

But can painful compromises prevent the loss of the loved one?

Saturday pm: 'Abusing love', a wonderful modern ballet by the Fish in a Bowl company at The Place. Two couples danced through the difficulties of their relationship. The woman of the first couple and the man of the second one commit adultery together which lasts the time of a dance before returning to their original partner. Despite what happened, both couples seem to reunite, even if changed. This ending felt like despair more than choice, with very sinister perspectives.

Can the wrong compromises take us to our loss?

Sunday am: Freudian slip, where 'scarified' replace 'sacrificed'. Sacrifice was referring to the compromises that kept popping up in the conversations during the week-end. No matter how compromises need to be part of life, can they feel anything else than wounds that need repair?

A space to be confused

...and here we are. Not really a start, more a continuation. A new space dedicated to words, thoughts and impulses. No intention to come up with clever theories, just to let simple associations happen. No structure, just randoms thoughts. No deep preparation, just improvisation (or almost!). And definitely not a crowd pleaser...what a relief! Just a space to let it go, to confuse and be confused. At last a space that has usually no space in the real life!

Is confusion scary to everyone or is anyone else better than me at dealing with it in their everyday life?