i'm feelin' hot

Day 6 with a fever. High in the morning...I feel so weak and thirsty I want to cry
thinking I have to get up for work. By mid-morning the drugs have kicked in and
I begin to feel drowsy. At lunch I pick up a bit, but then by 3 I am sleepy again.
These days I have been home between 4 and 5pm but then I have to study.
It is necessary for me to recuperate my energy this weekend or I really risk
catching some other horrible virus.
It's bad, this particular fever strain. My colleague has been sick now for 2 weeks, so that's
promising.
I am behind in everything, I know, but the next couple of weeks are crucial, so
I will make up for lost time afterwards.

when did I age 11 years?

So, I ran down to the metro bar before my lunch classes began.
It is perhaps one of the most irritating establishments I have ever stepped foot in, and that isn't good since I haven't been
frequenting this bar very long.
The barman is a little twirp with unpleasant facial hair who after making me three coffees suddenly thinks we are friends.
The cashier has a salt and pepper mullet, an earring, and speaks with a lisp. He calls everyone "Bella" and "Bello." He wears Moon Boots.
I don't know you, and I don't want to know you, thus I don't want you
calling me "Bella" every time I have to pay for something. It annoys the fuck out of me.
Today was just great. It was a day any woman would kill NOT to have.
Now, let me just anticipate that presently in particular I look like death warmed over.
I have had a constant fever since Sunday, and since I have no contract at work if I
am ill I don't get paid. That's that.
So...that means rain or shine (unless the Grim Reaper is waving at me through the
balcony doors) no matter how I am feeling I get my ass out of bed and I go to work.
Today, feverish and feeling icky, I went.
Back to the bar: There was some stupid 80s song on the radio while I was paying for my food, and I commented on how old it was. Mulletboy smiles at me and says "Oh, I know bella...but it is such a great song. I mean we grew up on this, right?"
I cleared my throat...."Exactly how old do you think I am?"
"Why, I think you're my age, what...42"
I had one of those Scrubs scenes play out in my head: Kaya leaping over the counter to strangle
him with bare hands.
Instead I opted for making him feel embarrassed.
"Really, why I thought you were 50. How about that?! By the way, I just turned 31 so when
this song was popular I was barely out of diapers. Have a nice day, bello."

Needless to say, I don't think I'll be going back to this bar any time soon.
And I assure you all that I do NOT look 42. I do not look 36. I may look 33 on a day I
don't sleep well...but 11 years older....no, I don't think so. Noooooooo.

a request

I am battling my demons of inadequacy. If anyone has any inspirational words
please feel free to send them to me and I will print them out and
stick them on the wall where I study.

oh no...

Sweet Jesus, it's happened. I have lost it.
I am now resorting to Rocky and Karate Kid to psych myself up for the
coming exam.
Now, I know you are wondering...what does boxing and karate have to
do with taking a stupid test?
Everything.
They were underdogs, and I am an underdog. They competed individually against
singular opponents. I have about 500 to knock off all at once.
And most importantly They believed (well...I am almost
convinced both believed. I know Rocky did, but Ralph Macchio came off a bit
like a pussy in that last scene. If it hadn't been for that stupid crane...but anyway
I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he believed, too).
So...alright...they believed and I do too.
But sometimes in life you need the necessary soundtrack. And these do just fine.
Thanks Joe Esposito. :)
Not surprisingly these tunes have also helped me in my running, though my goal at this juncture
is not to improve that performance. But hey, if it comes as a side dish, I'm not sending it
back.
Sound body, sound mind, right?

ps If you happen to see "Karate Kid" again, notice the erratic, spastic movements of the Cobra Kai in the final battles. They all look jacked up on coke.

Ok kids...here it is: http://it.youtube.com/watch?v=9fWvub_WBho

wait a second

I couldn't believe my eyes Friday night. I passed the exam. I'm in the 900 that go on to the "real" written test. Though I am beginning to feel that somehow this is bordering on a nightmare without end, it will eventually.
If I don't pass the next one, it's over. If I should be so lucky, I go on to the oral where I pray I don't find a racist or sexist exam board, hoping the questions I pull out of the basket are the ones I actually know.
Destiny will show itself again, no doubt.
I was convinced to 98% that I wouldn't have passed. I guess Melinda was right, I should never underestimate the power of a box of hair.
On another note, today it is freezing in Milan. I opened the balcony doors to let some air in and my fingers turned blue.
Not much else to report, I'm afraid.
I've had a very stressful weekend thus far. One of those where time seems to be dashing past you and before you know it, the weekend is over. There is a strange energy in the air, (even today despite it being a Sunday). I would like two days in a row without obligations or chores/errands to get done.

Ah..yes. One thing has got me concerned of late. People have begun discussing the "194" law here in Italy, or for those who have the fortune of not living here, the abortion law. Why are there still farty, old men who insist on telling women what to do with their bodies, and in 2008 no less?! What are they so afraid of??
Just because something exists, it doesn't mean people are forced to do it. The hash dealer two blocks up is always there but I don't go knocking on his door, do I? The vodka bottle calls me all day long, but that doesn't mean I drink from sunup to sundown...(though come to think of it some days it wouldn't be so bad). But I digress.
What these close-minded, ignorant people don't understand is that taking away legal abortion doesn't stop abortion, it makes people get on a train to Switzerland. Or worse, only leads to the rise of back-alley "clinics." (And I shudder as I type).
I don't know if I would abort or not, because a decision so colossal depends on too many factors. But what I do know is, I would like the choice.
Just think, Italy has had legal abortion for years, and Portugal only got it a year ago. I was there for the referendum (it was the weekend of my birthday). I had another thing to celebrate in Lisbon that year.

Happy V day

Well, it's Valentine's Day.
We never celebrate. I don't like commercial holidays, especially ones that involve being locked in a poorly-lit room with 30 other couples
while partaking of bad food, sappy, 70s Italian swingers set on "low" in the background.
No thanks. I prefer the usual:
Hubby works late. I have a gin tonic, a dip in the hot tub, and pull out
some gay porn.
Not necessarily in that order, but, on occasion, necessarily at the same time.

This year hubby doesn't fail me. I've got about an hour before he gets back which is plenty of time
to enjoy a cool drink in some steaming water while watching two men get it on.
And if this offends anyone in any way, well they can just fk off. Why? Because I find two guys getting it on hot, especially if I am imagining that the two men are Brad Pitt and that
hottie from Thirty Seconds Jared Leto. And I am not afraid to admit it.
Now I can easily substitute either one with Colin Farrell, or a handful of others, but the aforementioned combination usually does
it for me.

So, before I get going, I wanted to share what happened on the bus today. Now, since I am partially hearing-impaired at the moment
I feel I have the liberty to poke fun at Mole girl.
I was coming home on the bus, and the bus passes in front of the Vodafone building which is a) ENORMOUS and b) marked by
about 20 signs and a gigantic red billboard.
Mole girl gets on...dirty blond hair, dressed like her younger sister...and sporting the thickest pair of glasses I have ever seen.
She was on her mobile, trying in vain to excuse herself for being late to this job interview, but she "got lost" she kept saying..."I just can't find it,"
she insisted.
Now, I began to think two things: a) she's retarded or b) she is going to Vodafone and hasn't seen the fucking signs. Which pretty much
means she's retarded.
As soon as she is off the phone, (having already passed Vodafone mind you), she catches my gaze...damn me for staring.
"Excuse me...I need to go to Vodafone. Do you know where it is cuz I'm late and I have this interview and I've been up and down this road 3 times..."
Whoa, Nelly.
"Vodafone?" I ask shyly. "We just passed it."
(Squinting) "Where?" she inquires.
"Um, back there..." I point.
"No, that can't be it."
I start to become annoyed. "Yes it is."
Apparently I don't have a face you can trust.
"I'm going to ask the driver."
"You're welcome." Bitch.

So she walks up to the front and repeats her little soliloquy to the disinterested driver.
"It's back there," he mumbles.
What happened next made me almost pee myself.
"It can't be..." her voice began to rise. "I've been up and down this road 3 times and ...."
The driver looks over and says "Vodafone, no?"
"Yes" confused girl responds.
"You mean the Vodafone back there with the 20 meter-tall blazing red Vodafone sign in the front of the building...Jesus Christ lady
how could you NOT see it FOUR times???"
I thought she was going to weep.
"I better get off."
"Yeah, you better."
She proceeded to ask if she could be let off in the middle of an intersection, whilst the bus found itself in the left-turn lane.
Needless to say she didn't exit there, and I would wager she didn't get that job either.

Happy Valentine's y'all.

Hello Muddah

Well, yesterday was exam day. 60 questions, 25 minutes to fill out the bubble answer sheet.
About 40 of these quiz questions dealt with "general knowledge" mostly based on Italian culture. It would have helped if I had been raised here...gone to school here...sumthin'. But I wasn't. Which meant I walked out of the exam after its completion feeling about as clever as a box of hair.
I am quite sure my answers to the remaining 20 or so were correct. And of course they were, they were based on the material we were supposed to be studying for the past 4 months.

Now I wonder...am I stupid, am I ignorant, or was I simply unlucky? Perhaps the others are more dense, despite having actually spent their whole lives here. I am leaving it up to destiny at this point. I really could not have done any more than I already have, and I was the only foreigner taking the exam so I was also at a gross disadvantage. I studied my butt off, I took Italian Lit and History, I read the papers every day and watch the news...how much more Italian General Knowledge do I need???

We'll see.

Now, for a column I would like to incorporate here which will also help me to write more consistently...here is your weekly Music History Lesson:

Today's topic is :

Amilcare Ponchielli

Have you ever heard the "Camp Granada" song or "Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh"?
Well, it's an Allen Sherman parody taken from the ballet "Dance of the Hours" from the opera 'La Gioconda' by Mr. Ponchielli.
This is about the best thing Ponchielli ever did, or rather the most famous, though it's a shame because in his day he was about as celebrated as Verdi.
He was born the 31st of August 1834 in Paderno Fasolaro near Cremona. Quite the young prodigy, he was whipping out symphonies by the age of 10.
The young lad spent nine years in Milan and after his studies at the Milan Conservatory, he went on to take small jobs in Cremona and Piacenza.
In 1856, he wrote his first opera, based on the Manzoni book The Betrothed, which was later received well in Milan for the opening of the Teatro del Verme in 1872. To follow would be a ballet, and then the opera which would put him in the history books, 'La Gioconda.' Boito wrote the libretto for this opera based on the Victor Hugo tragedy, Angelo, Tyran de Padoue.
It opened at La Scala April 8th, 1876.
From here on his works could never top the success of this majestic opera. He was appointed maestro of the Bergamo Cathedral and died from pneumonia in 1886, being only 51.

His composition led to developments in the romantic, melodramatic style, paving the way for composers like Puccini and Leoncavallo.