The Comfort Zone

Danilo

2008-11-15T16:50:00.001+01:00

Danilo sat outside the supermarket the other day, despite all the rain. He was squatting against the wall, hood up, one hand around 66cl of warm beer and the other buried in his pocket. It was 9 in the morning.
He seemed forlorn as I passed him by, avoiding everyone's gaze and content
just to stare down at his shoes. I briefly wondered if the weather were getting to him as well. We have had endless rain.
I tried not to splash him from the nearby puddles as I skipped past, clutching my umbrella madly while attempting to maneuver
around the older folk on the sidewalk. Naturally, they were in no particular hurry to get anywhere while I, as usual, had a bus to catch.
Few days pass that I don't see Danilo at his place near the market doors. His disposition is generally sunny, and he loves to chat with the passers-by that deign to greet him. The security guards know him well and spend their smoke breaks keeping him company.
As many times as I pass in front of the shop, from morning until evening, chances are
Danilo will be there, drinking. One morning he was well through his first 66er and it was only 8:10am. I look at him like that, sometimes perched against the wall, other times seated on the curb, and I ask myself how quickly rock bottom can hit you. I have a taste for the drink myself, so I have often wondered where the line between pleasure and disease begins and ends, and when does one stop caring that there may be a "problem."
Danilo, always the same. Ropy, oily, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail above a ruddy, tired face. He often smiles, but his burnt chestnut eyes are half-closed, distant, and look
through you, as if he were looking at the portrait of a life he once had and now barely recognizes.
He leaves me perplexed, and saddened. This can't be the way he imagined it would go.
I'm certain he didn't want to lose his family, his job, and have to depend on the kindness of
others. They tell me it's only been a couple years. But I wonder when it really started. What was the first real disappointment that tore at his heart and began turning one vodka into a double? One beer into a liter? An evening drink into a lunch beer into a morning coffee spike?
One day I'll ask him. Instead of just saying hello and going on my way, one day I'll
stop and listen to this man's story. Because I'm certain few ever have.
To some, he's just funny Danilo...but to most, he's the drunk, the bum,
the lazy no-good beggar.

makin' love on the heath

2008-10-26T12:41:00.002+01:00

That was just to get your attention. Though a great line in an excellent Faithless song it is.
Attention...something that my erratic and sporadic posts have not captured, at least of late. Then again, I haven't had a whole lot to say, especially recently. My life has been "on hold" now for a year. And by life I mean all the things I love doing outside of work. I have had to suspend my hobbies, except for running, because for one reason or another I passed a year
studying, dealing with bureaucracy and the legal system here, and in general trying to keep what little sanity I have left.
So, I have what seems to be just one more hurdle ahead. At least in terms of what I can effectively do. Whilst I toil away into the late evenings studying literature, history, and language, I feel grateful that I can afford the time, and that even if forced to study something, I am at least not obliged to give exams in physics, math, and chemistry. That would have been a riot.
All the immediate madness should finally be over by the end of the year. And what a year it has been.
So for the moment I am very, very busy. Between working and trying to get through a year's worth of material in 2 months, I have my hands full. Yet, something has returned to me that I haven't possessed in a while: hope. My heart is hopeful that all will turn out as it must, which may not necessarily be how I want it, but I am serene enough now to accept the final decision, whatever it may be. I'll just have to be patient enough to sit it out. I waged my battle, there is little more I can do.
I am looking forward to the "end" of this all, because in January I would like take up my reading once more, my music history studies, and that novel I began writing is still there, waiting for me to give new life to my characters. I am undecided whether to embark on a new instrumental adventure, and if so...what? The guitar? Go back to the piano or the cello?
I'll decide, in due time.
I can already taste the freedom...it's almost over. As they say in French and at the end of the movie L'Haine...jusq'ici tout va bien.

now what the hell?

2008-09-17T07:45:00.002+02:00

I am losing my mind it seems. Things are taking their toll on me. I am desperately trying to concentrate, keep the blinders on, continue forward. Yet, it's not working. There are distractions.
My mind itself created a whole bunch these past two weeks making it nearly impossible for me to have made any real progress in my studies. And time flies. Tic toc tic toc. My concentration is shot, apparently the blinders were kept in place with post-its, because they keep slipping. And my legs are heavy with despair and passive-aggressive resistance to the idea of these exams.
Yet, I must remember how much is riding on the outcome of all this. How important it is so as not to completely eradicate what I have worked a year to achieve, then lose, then partially regain.
I beseech myself to get it together. I have been so brave thus far, how can I falter now?

wow!

2008-09-02T00:27:00.002+02:00

Today I stopped by the pet shop and found vegan cat food!
I had to look twice to be sure I was reading the label correctly, but there
it was, "NO ANIMALS WERE KILLED TO MAKE THIS FOOD, 100% VEGAN FEED" staring me in the face. I'm sure to all you cosmopolitan people out there this may not be
news at all, but I was shocked. Here I was, giving my kitties holistic bio
meat (I wonder if they have Almonature in America?) which is still
worlds better than what those scientists at Iams or Purina produce.
But I was in search of a possible alternative.
I still intend to feed them Almo because I sort of feel bad about forcing my cats
to be vegan when it's in their nature to eat meat (and they don't have a voice with which
to express consent).
But it's nice to be able to
vary their diet and not always have to give them 19 euros of chicken or
salmon and be able to provide 15 euro veggie feed. The experiment began
this evening. We'll see how much they eat by morning.

how time flies 2

2008-09-01T01:01:00.002+02:00

Wow. It has been, again, a really long time.
What has happened since I last wrote?
Well, I worked a lot. Then I went far away, to a place
that made me feel completely out of this world.
The hurricane just missed us and while the south now
trembles I am relieved that it is now down to a level 3
storm. Still...
In the meantime, my parents moved and my brother changed schools.
I just got bit by an unidentified spider and now I am praying
that necrosis doesn't set in. I mean I am really really afraid
of losing a limb. The bite continues to swell and itch like a bitch and
I can do nothing but wait.
On a tragic note, the other night my husband's childhood friend died in
a scooter accident. Details are still hazy, but Christ-on-a-Cross what does
it mean when a 31-year-old man dies for no reason whatsoever while coming
home from work?! What a pointless death for a great guy, who had an incredible
future in front of him as an athlete. Again, I can't help but think that if God actually
exists he must be laughing his ass off at all this nonsense and suffering in the world.
I really don't have much else to say. I am too tired and bitter to analyze anything.

how time flies

2008-07-20T00:37:00.002+02:00

As usual, I have tons to say but little time and even less will to put it all into words.
So, a quick update for the moment and when I finally get myself organized
I will write more.
Work is winding down...a lot. I mean...so little I would starve were I alone.
Little vacation came, kicked the shit out of our budget, and went. Let me give
you advice: if they tell you going to Spain is cheap, don't believe them. Seriously.
Unless paying 60 euro to get into a club and 17 euro for a vodka redbull inside
is what you call cheap.
I now have a better understanding as of what will be expected of me in the next 4 months.
It involves a lot of studying and spending money, and of course work. Let the good times
roll. And more on this adventure soon.
My back is killing me, and every day I am behind on yoga is a day closer to my being able to
apply for that job playing bells at Notre Dame. At least my French would improve.
That's all for now.

cripes

2008-07-01T19:54:00.000+02:00

I don't know what the hell is happening to my family.
I feel like I don't know these people anymore, though I have to admit
I have often asked myself "Am I adopted?"
If I didn't look so much like my Dad I might be worried.

Anyway, if things go on like this they are going to send me to the looneybin.
I have a mother, father, and little brother. And I am nothing like them.
Above all my younger sibling. I mean...much younger.
He'll be turning 18 this October, and I couldn't feel further away from him
than I do right now. If our conversation strays from movies or music,
we have little else to say to one another. There is an enormous rift between us and
upon inspection, I don't know if it is there because of the age difference, or if a lot of unspoken
questions have just slowly worn away at the fissure.
One enormous issue is that I expect a lot of him, and that sounds very parental.
And it is. I have been taking care of this kid my whole life, if only emotionally of late.
Perhaps too much.
I have the feeling that if I don't pick up the phone and speak to my mother on his behalf,
he falls apart. He isn't able to stand up for himself and make himself be heard or understood
effectively. And that is my fault for always standing up for him. How will this apply later in his life?!

I suppose I get angry because I had it rough...I mean really bad when I was young. And this isn't
envy speaking...in hindsight I am glad I had the tortuous upbringing I had because it has made
me a stronger person today. A person who doesn't falter.
He is so fortunate and doesn't realize it, and that's what pisses the hell out of me.
He has a raging, rampant case of what I call "Wonderbread Suburban Syndrome:"
He doesn't have to work, take care of younger siblings, cook dinner for them while the parents (or parent) works
two shifts at the Denny's...he doesn't live in a crappy apartment battling roaches
and having to dodge the eviction notices because Mom can't afford the rent.
He lives in a beautiful home in the sheltered suburbs, where people don't
shoot at you, the house is always clean and the fridge is always full. Bills get paid and
God forbid the cable goes out.
I ask a lot of an 18-year-old...I ask him to be grateful for what he has and for how much my parents
sacrifice to give it to him. But I fear that is asking too much. Not in today's society anyway.
My parents, in wanting to give him a better life than even the one I had growing up, went too far.
It became too good. Too much too fast and now everything is expected.

So...it doesn't surprise me that now all they do is fight. If it isn't my mother getting upset, it's him.
And one way or another they try to drag me into it and make me take sides. I did it for a while, but
I am tired and won't do it anymore. I am not Santa Claus, I am not a babysitter. Both of them will
have to learn to grow up and suck it up.
My mother and I never got along all that well...we are too different and though I love her, our relationship
is often strained. It has got much better since I moved, since we aren't around each other much we actually
appreciate seeing each other when I come home. But she has an incredibly difficult character. And she and my
brother are a lot alike...and thus they fight like cats and dogs.
Dad. Poor Dad works so much he isn't home enough to fight with anyone, and I harbor the sneaking feeling
that he could care less about all this. He is simply too tired and all he wants is 2 hours on the
sofa in peace and quiet. I get on with my dad because we have similar personalities and
respect each other's spaces. But we are worlds apart when it comes to important issues like religion, politics,
or "sensitive" issues like homosexuality or euthanasia.
In this moment I find it difficult to have any sort of meaningful conversation with any member of my family.
I couldn't feel more estranged.

just lazying about

2008-06-29T16:18:00.001+02:00

As usual it has been a tumultuous few weeks. I haven't written mainly because I have been in a
silent state of meditation. I didn't want to spend words that I would regret, nor did I
want to dwell too long on all the problems that I have been having.
The school year, as much it is so for us adult ESL teachers, has come quietly to an end.
July starts the month of little work and (salary) but lots of play. Most of my days in July and
August are passed at the park, reading lots of books, running, and basking in the sun.
After the year I have had, I deserve this break. My mind needs it, and so does my body.
I finally feel like I am "getting my life back."
The huge, ugly elephant which has taken up residence in my crystal shop is still there, staring at me.
But for the moment it has stopped shuffling about and if all goes well, if I gather enough luck and patience, I may
be able to airlift the fucker safely out by the end of the year.
A lot of that will depend, as usual, on others and not on me. This is hard for me to manage
since I need control over the issues in my life. Still, one thing this whole experience has taught me
is to be tireless and enduring in my beliefs and motivations. I marvel at far how I have come
and how many disappointments I have weathered...and yet here I am still fighting. And I will continue
to combat until the last person standing is me.
Unfortunately a dear friend of mine is moving to Mantova at the end of July, so the few friendships I do
have here in Milan will suffer yet another casualty. It's not like I'll never see him again, but him being 2 hours
away makes it a bit difficult to have our weekly coffee.
I have been daydreaming lots, as I am apt to do in the summer when I find myself under a tree at the park, relishing
scenes worthy of Country Time Lemonade ads...although knowing me instead of the lemony beverage you'd catch me
sipping Tom Collins. :)

pass the crack pipe, grandpa

2008-06-11T00:36:00.001+02:00

Weather here has been insane. There is no other word for it.
This morning it was something like 90 degrees...then about 1pm while I was
teaching in the crummy basement of a large technical firm, it started pouring
buckets. By 1:16 pm the rain had ceased and it was sunny again, the
drops that had stained the glass dried in a matter of minutes leaving
only a dirty web.
For those who weren't told, yesterday was "Crazy Old Men Gone Wild" day. On my way to work an elderly Italian bloke got on and spent the next 10 minutes pretending to be English. "Please sit down," he would say, and "Excuse me, thank you" in his worst fake-o British accent.
Finally a lady called him on it. Fed up, she shifted her enormous body towards him (as only over-60s Italian women know how to do), and with a look of menace said "Listen, why don't you just stop pretending to be English, because you're not fooling anyone and frankly it's getting annoying."
I was laughing on the inside like a wee babe. Until a seat opened up behind me and
the old fart sat down, only to commence singing some annoying little ditty in what I understood to be Neapolitan...over and over and over again for close to thirty bloody minutes. That's what I get for laughing.

The fun doesn't stop there, kids! On my way back from work, another old man (this time of the "Unkempt Conspiracy Theorist" school) spent the better part of 20 minutes shouting about how the "enemies" were going to enslave us, how "they" were controlling us
through our mobile phones, and asserting that basically there was no escape because
"they" were everywhere, above all hiding within the bodies of foreigners. Unbeknowst to them, poor immigrants, I'm sure they thought they were guilty only of coming to this country in search of a better life when indeed they are hosts for Italian bureaucrats!
Now... that the bureaucrats are out to get us...and ME in particular, is true...and I am convinced that if I peeled away the skin of any politician here there would be a snake or V-like lizard beneath...but they are certainly not taking up residence in the shells of poor Sri Lankan or Peruvian people.
Last but not least, always yesterday there was an incident at the school with an elderly couple. They walked in and began causing a ruckus, and then the little old fella punched the student tutor and started banging on the glass windows with his belt while shouting profanities. I think "Loony Radio" must have been set to "Senility" yesterday. And this old guy just became my personal hero.

On another note, I no longer look like death warmed over. I am back to a regular running schedule and am soaking in the sun, though it hasn't exactly been showing itself much here what with the torrential rains and all. Better weather will come. Sometime.

i can see clearly now...

2008-06-05T00:45:00.001+02:00

Life has come to a screeching halt. Thankfully.
After months of madness and mayhem, the roller coaster that I dared not call a "life"
has finally slowed down to a blissful speed comparable to "old man walking dog."
Most of last week was spent still feeling bitter and jaded, and as much as I enjoy
being Italy's bureaucracy bitch, I have honestly had enough. The lawsuit is filed,
I will discover my fate shortly, and until then I am putting it out of my mind.
Sure, I still have to swallow back a bit of bile whenever I see the unis about, but what the hell can I do about
any of this? In a word...nothing. I can only sit back and wait, and the last thing I want to do
is waste another month of my life in useless pondering and regrets.
Thanks to Nicoletta, I regained a sense of self on Friday and have since felt worlds better.
I have been running consistently, eating right again, and I no longer feel like curling up into
the fetal position whenever someone mentions the city or my situation.
My health has unfortunately suffered some due to all this stress. I seem to have regressed to childhood since March,
battling ear infections, pink eye, and constant head colds. But I am hoping for a change in both spirit and
mind, and I can't but feel positive about the future. What would feeling negative accomplish at this point?
This said, I know I am a pessimist at heart and that grey days will come again. But I will try my best to
keep the devils at bay.
I have also been less than enthusiastic about work recently, I do admit, but that may also be the summer
coming on and us teachers naturally wanting to "shut off" our brains for 3 months. Though in my
specific line of education the work really never ceases, if we wanted to we could do this all year.
Still, I find myself in the best institute of my career. Nice people, I am both liked and appreciated, and
they pay above standard and on time which for Milano is a luxury. I consider myself lucky.
No other news to report for the moment. I just want to enjoy the sunshine which has finally graced us
with its presence, and get both some serious reading and writing done.

???

2008-05-29T14:37:00.001+02:00

Sometimes you reach a point where you think, "Something just has to give, man."
I don't mean to rain on my own parade, or attempt to feel sorry for myself.
Self-pity is great for a while, but in the end it doesn't get you anywhere.
All this being said, I have to admit that life hasn't exactly been a bed of roses
lately. I harbor in me a lot of disappointment, and I feel just a wee bit jaded. I have suffered
an enormous injustice which has been difficult to swallow, and which further renders me
subject to unpredictable bouts of anger and tears. It has been impossible to put
this behind me.
I am fighting back, as best as the law and my finances permit me, but I find myself
dwelling on the circumstances and wondering how all this will turn out.
Time will tell, and luckily it will only be a month or so before I know my fate.
Still, I ask myself why I have to keep fighting...especially for something which should
already be mine, and when, ye gods, will I finally get a fucking break.

screw this

2008-05-20T22:40:00.002+02:00

Sunday morning at 6am I woke up to pee and stepped out of bed into a pool of vomit.
Nice. Thank you, kitties.
Panicking, mostly because I had barf on my feet, I fumbled around on the desk
in a desperate attempt to find something with which I could a) clean up
or b) kill the cats.
I opted for the former and extracted two sheets of paper out of the printer, onto
which I stepped and slid over to the bathroom where I could finally wash without
trailing puke all through the house. I am fortunate we have marble flooring and no rugs
or carpets. Cat barf is a common occurrence in this house.
After a rosary of swear words I returned to wipe up the mess, climbed back into bed, and proceeded to fall into a coma
out of which I awoke in a cold sweat at 10am. Another nightmare.
They have started again. I have frequent nightmares, and a few recurrent ones.
I am often being chased, shot at, or followed. If not anxiety-ridden, I am plain terrified.
Other times I find myself walking up and down stairs that have no end. I open doors that lead to
nowhere. Sometimes I dream of people in furry suits (bears, bunnies, and the like)
who, stolen out of some Lynch-esque flick, stare at me. It's unnerving.
With everything that is going on in my life right now, I am not surprised I wake up screaming.
Weather here has been total crap the past few days, which hasn't at all helped my mood.
Today I had no patience for anyone. All my students (well, the few that actually showed), seemed
to have forgotten everything they have learned. It's the best feeling a teacher can have.
"Bloody hell," I thought, "it's a good thing you've been coming here for 8 months, eh?"
It's been a couple of days of stupid questions about things
I know they know already. What the hell.
There is something stirring within me and it ain't pretty. I am just about to tell everyone and everything
to shove it. I thought it might be fun tomorrow to show up at work dressed in some of my "darker" garb and scare the hell out of everyone. Smoky eyes and burgundy lipstick ought to complete the costume.
I am getting a bit fed up with rules, regulations, and what is "expected of me." Especially since playing by the rules and being honest have thus far got me nowhere.
I have reached a point where
I would be happiest if no one expected anything at all.

of cats and men

2008-05-14T13:25:00.000+02:00

Well, it's been an eventful week thus far.
Monday I was ill. Tuesday I was excluded from the famous
list. Whee! This means lawyers and money and lots of filing.
Still, I have to do what is right and I am not about to give up now.

This morning my dearest friend's cat died in her arms.
I am devastated and it wasn't even mine. But it sure feels like
she was. Zoe was her name. I was like an aunt to her, cuddling
her whenever I could and playing with her in Franny's garden.
I know to those of you who have never had animals I sound insane.
But this is how I am. I weep more for defenseless creatures than I
ever do for grown people. Having two cats of my own, I know how much they
become an integral part of your life and the fact that they depend on us
for everything makes it even more tragic when they get ill and we are
the ones forced to make difficult decisions. I am glad Zoe got to die at home
in the arms of the lady who always loved her best. That is what I wish for my
cats when it will be their time. Though simply bringing up this eventuality makes me
feel incredibly sad. Hopefully I won't have to deal with something like
this for a long while.
Speaking of death and destruction, I just finished Cormac McCarthy's "The Road"
which, by the way, I discovered will soon be a motion picture. I liked the book up
until the very end, which I found to be predictable and senseless.
Anyway it's worth a read, if nothing else for the odd dreams you will have as a result.
If anyone has ever seen the "b" movie with Christopher Lambert called
Beowulf, a lot of my nights are spent dreaming crap like this.
The movie is quite cheesy and very loosely based on the poem but there are elements to it I enjoy.
Anyway, I have had dreams much like the film in the past, where I find myself in this post-apocalyptic yet medieval world, clad in tight
leather corsets, soft armour, wielding an enormous sword. Apart from being a dominatrix that's my other secret dream! I am usually part of a group of warriors protecting a village from peril or having to save some maiden from getting violated or killed. This particular dream mirrored the book in that I was attempting to survive and stay hidden in a world gone quite to hell after some unmentioned catastrophe.
It made me anxious and I didn't sleep peacefully. But then again I haven't been resting all that well so no loss.
This afternoon I plan to go for a run, do yoga, and listen to Chopin. I need some down time.

soul vomit

2008-05-08T16:50:00.002+02:00

It's been a feeling which has been nagging at me for weeks now. It's in reality not a new sensation.
When I stop to think about it, I realize I have had all the symptoms since birth.
I just don't belong anywhere.
I have felt like this my whole damn life. I was born in Poland to two Polish people, though none of us three look it. My Dad looks American and my Mom looks Mexican or Greek. I don't know what I look like, but no one has ever called me on being Polish.
I moved around Europe, not staying long enough in any place to "fit in" and anyway, I was too young to care.
Then we moved to the US. So there I was, a Polish immigrant who didn't look Polish living in Chicago, going to Catholic schools where the uniforms hid just how poor we were, or at least how poor we were for the first years.
At least I thought you couldn't tell back then. But you could. You can always tell by people's shoes just how destitute
they are. My shoes were always second-hand or
from Payless. The "American" kids had nice leather shoes or sneakers with cartoon characters on them. They had nice school supplies...I had a Polish pencil case and
generic pens.
My parents sacrificed enormously to send me to private school, trying to keep me out of the Chicago public school system. I thought I at least owed them good grades. I studied hard and from the beginning started getting straight As. That continued for the rest of my school career, save for my constant Bs in Math. My academic success became a real point of pride for my parents. The better I did in school the more socially awkward I became. I realized too late that I wanted more to escape myself though most of the time I desired nothing else but to run away from my life.
I didn't become an American citizen until I was 18. I may have grown up there, and I may speak American English, but deep down I never felt truly "American." My last name wasn't Smith or Jones. I wasn't blond. I didn't eat peanut butter and jelly for lunch. And I didn't have expensive shoes or brand-name clothing.
I hit junior high and had to go to public school because by then we were living in the suburbs.
That was awful. It was one of the worst periods of my life. No more uniforms to hide behind...my inadequate wardrobe and feelings of alienation only further contributed to my feelings of unhappiness and dissatisfaction.
I couldn't face going to public high school and begged my parents to allow me to return to private school.
My first two years of high school I spent in an all-girls Catholic institute miles from my home. But I had a uniform, and I met up with old friends from previous schools, and things were suddenly right again. And then we moved, for the hundredth time. Further into suburbia, no good private schools around and now I had a sibling...another mouth for my family to feed. No more privileges for me. Back to public high school for the last two years.
It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I made great friends, despite my extreme shyness. I studied really hard and I did really well. I had fun. For a time the feeling of not belonging left me.
Eventually it came back. The nagging. I decided to study abroad to stop the itch. This was fatal. I realized I liked Europe. I liked my new boyfriend. I could see this working out.
So when I finished college, I moved to Italy. My boyfriend became my husband. And here
I am nearly 10 years later.
I am still dreaming of a uniform. Somehow it makes me think I can fit in better. And I came very close to getting one. But it wasn't meant to be. And though I got a letter in the mail a few years back telling me I was "Italian"...and though oddly I probably look more Italian than I do Polish or American, and though I speak the language better than a lot of native speakers...no paper, no words, no pat on the back make you something you aren't. And here, either directly or indirectly, people remind you daily that you aren't and will never be one of them.
So I am still wondering where the hell that leaves me.

nothing to say

2008-04-19T14:12:00.001+02:00

It's funny that just when you think you hit rock bottom, you turn around to find a shovel and a sign saying "Dig."

cripes

2008-04-18T21:07:00.001+02:00

things are not looking promising.

yes!

2008-04-11T05:29:00.001+02:00

it's all good.

oh you gotta be kidding me

2008-04-01T22:13:00.002+02:00

I won't go into much detail, because the following happened in Italian and a lot of
it would be lost in translation.
Today I went to the supermarket and got a shopping basket thrown at me by an
enraged, deranged woman.
Yup. This is the effect I am now having on people.
I was minding my own business, IN LINE like a civilized person should behave, when
Heavens! I had failed to notice crazy woman's basket about 2 feet away from the register queue.
How dare I not deduce that she was still shopping and smartly STILL KEEPING her
place in the line by the use of the imaginary friend standing in front of me??
I have one lady ahead and so I slowly inch forward, only to find this woman
staring angrily at me.
"Where are you going?" she yells.
"I'm sorry?..." I say completely befuddled.
"I'M NEXT."
Now I understood and starting getting peeved. CLASSIC Italian move.
"No, ma'am...you're not. I have been in line along with the other people
behind me and there was no sight of you or your basket, so I don't think so."
She started turning colors. A horrible fight ensued where I stayed cool
and looked like a reasonable person, and she yelled and called me names
and then threw her basket at me. I still kept my calm. I must have been
drugged by my own adrenaline because I swear when it was over I started
trembling and thought I would seriously rip her face off.
The cashier intervened, on MY behalf...especially since, well, it was HER fault.
And everyone knows me in that market. We're family. She looked insane and humiliated
herself, I looked like a saint.
Has this ever happened to anyone, or am I the only one who lives in this backward,
rude world?!

what's up

2008-03-27T09:14:00.004+01:00

I think Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt should be tarred and feathered. I have never seen The Hills, nor do I care to, and for once I actually thank Italian television for sparing us at least that sad portrayal of "fake reality entertainment" (since we already have X-Factor and we're on the...what is it now...EIGHTH edition of Big Brother). I mean come on...they've even stopped with Survivor and The Farm why go on with this torture??!! This is why when my television is on, it's either a dvd or a documentary.
Those two just look like people that I would set aflame within 5 minutes of meeting them. Can there be a more plastic, shallow couple? What is going on in LA?! And Kim Kardashian? Aside from having an ass like an ottoman what is it exactly that this chick does?
Christ.
Speaking of, Easter came and thankfully went. Weather was crap, my in-laws' cooking was crap. Easter is a holiday I have always loathed. Mainly because when I was younger I was dragged to church in frilly, pink dresses and ribbons in my hair and I almost always froze my ass off. Not to mention my parents generally went to the 7:30am Mass. That was fun, especially when I had to get up at 7 on Saturdays too to attend Polish school. God my life sucked.
So only good thing was once I left for college, I finally stopped the tortuous cycle of having to wake early and sit through service, of which the highlight was my thinking about sex or where to get a cool pair of go-go boots.
Luckily I haven't willingly seen a church in 12 years, and have only been guilted into going a handful of times when I have visited the folks.
Don't get me wrong, I admire persons of faith. I just never had any and so I don't really see why I have to live a lie. For someone who doesn't believe...take it from me, since I have a lot of experience...being forced to attend Mass is the purest form of torment. And since the Roman Catholic church has always been an expert on afflicting misery and woe, it is actually rather appropriate.
But enough on religion.
Well, I better go and get studying. All should end in a couple weeks, one way or another. And then in some rudimentary form I will get my life back.

sigh again

2008-03-20T23:26:00.002+01:00

It's been a really long week. Exams to give and grade before Easter, studying to do, and trying to keep my anxiety and doubts at bay. I am looking forward to having three days to just sleep, watch movies...and unfortunately hit the books. For yet another time. No word so far on the oral exam confirmation, and I am still sacrificing small mammals in the hopes there will not be one. (well, no I'm not...but I am making a helluva lot of paper offerings to the ancestors).
Emotions are running high in the house, and I and hubby and the cats are just pretty much counting the days until all this crap is resolved, one way or the other.
I am as usual a whirlwind, and am beginning to feel the effects of my running on near-empty so long.

the nightmare continues kids

2008-03-17T15:44:00.001+01:00

I passed with a 27!!!!
There WILL be an oral exam, so it’s not over yet.
Exams start the week of the 7th of april.
Thanks to everyone for all your support.

this post is about nothing

2008-03-16T11:11:00.002+01:00

I have never been the most patient person in the world. I find it within myself to be
tolerant and persevering, but patient?
I hate waiting for anything, especially great news. Especially news of paramount importance regarding my future.
You all know what I am waiting for. The jury is still out, people, and I have trouble thinking of anything else this weekend. It is quite useless for me to share how I think I did. But I will. :)
When I left the premises after the exam I was sure I had made 2 or 3 errors. By Friday evening I would have put money on my not passing. It's Sunday, and I have no energy left for this mental masturbation. I'll find out tomorrow or day after. It's too late now anyway, isn't it? I did my best and that is all that matters. I couldn't have studied more, and I couldn't have controlled my emotions more than I did.
What makes me angry, however, is how much this has consumed me since November...how much it has affected my home life, my social life, and how this is reflected in my posts which, few as they have been, have spoken of little else these past months.
I know you are all sick of hearing about this, and if all goes well within the next month you won't have to read or listen to any more about it. Worst case scenario, by Tuesday it will all be over.
Anyway, one thing you have probably gathered is how significant this all is for me.
But wishes don't always come true, and it doesn't always snow on Christmas so I will just have to wait and see if what I have done is enough.

On another note, I just saw Brokeback Mountain. I know, I'm a little late. I just never had the opportunity until now. So, though it was long as hell (btw Ang, I think I could have cut about 30 minutes out of that mo-fo if given the chance, but hey you know your stuff), I really liked it.
Heath Ledger (RIP...I still cannot believe he is gone) was absolutely amazing. And though I find
Jake whatever-his-name-is extremely annoying on almost every occasion, I appreciated the effort.
What is there to say? Two guys on a mountain amongst sheep for weeks...something is bound to happen. It was sorrowful, and their love was obviously doomed from the beginning...which is what made it believable. And though I didn't cry, it left me wistful.
I'm still processing. I found choking the scenes of Heath and his wife and those two girls screaming in that crappy house. My god I couldn't take watching it let alone having to live it.

Well, this is all can scrape up for the moment. My brain is still tired from all the past days' efforts. Will let you know the verdict as soon as I know.

almost there

2008-03-11T23:01:00.001+01:00

36 hours or so.
I'm feeling a little like Eminem.
" Look, if you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted-One moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?"

This is my chance. And it's truly one-time-only.
We'll see if all my blood, sweat, and tears can pay off.
Perhaps destiny has another plan for me, and this won't
work out, but I had to try, right? And I had to give it my
all.
SO...
"So here I go it's my shot.
Feet fail me not cause this maybe the only opportunity that I got"

Failure, at this point, is not an option.
I'll let you all know how it goes.

sigh

2008-03-05T16:40:00.002+01:00

I had a panic attack yesterday.
Guess all the pressure and the hours of studying are finally getting to me.
Just about a week to go, and then it's over.
My friend sent me this today, and it was utterly sweet and perfect.

"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." (Christopher Robin to Winnie The Pooh)

It's one of those critical moments in the game, like the 30th km in a marathon.
You're tired and thirsty and everything aches, (in this case my brain), and yet
you still have a ways to go. I have to get through the next two days and then
it's downhill...it will just hit me that it's almost over and so I'll just pick up the pace.
But for the moment, until Friday, it will all seem impossible and my feet will drag.

i'm feelin' hot

2008-02-29T08:12:00.002+01:00

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?

2008-02-25T21:48:00.003+01:00

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

2008-02-20T16:41:00.001+01:00

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...

2008-02-18T16:28:00.004+01:00

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

2008-02-16T13:17:00.004+01:00

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

2008-02-14T20:04:00.002+01:00

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

2008-02-13T19:38:00.002+01:00

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.

off to the wayside

2008-01-28T17:03:00.000+01:00

My time away was fantastic and as always served to illustrate more clearly what I hate about living in Milan. Don't get me wrong, there are certain definite advantages, one of them being it rarely ever snows. In terms of the arts, we are comparable to a New York or a London. But much to my dismay, this town is ugly, worn, and the population has grown not only in number but also in madness. This has to be one of the most stressful places to live, and the frenetic manner in which the Milanese lead their lives is both contagious and infuriating. There are moments when I am not in a hurry and yet I find myself increasing my pace only because I seem to be slowing others down...and I am a naturally fast walker. There is no limit to where the ill-mannered and frustrated can arrive here. Gratuitous insults are common and plentiful. The simplest thing becomes a trial simply because people do not know how to queue nor do they respect their fellow man. I realize I am not painting a nice picture here, and I am generalizing just a bit, but what I am saying is true to about 95%. At least in my experience.
But I digress. I didn't even want to discuss this now. What I came here to say (it's also a great excuse not to study) is that I need to get something off my chest. I am weary
and I grow wearier carrying this on my shoulders.
I chose to take a certain path about 2 months ago, thinking at the fork that one way would be better than another down the line. I don't know how much of this was actually a conscious choice and how much was based on illusions and dreams. Nevertheless, I began this journey and I soon discovered that it was NOT the path of least resistance. What I had got myself into involved sacrifice, determination, and strength. Granted, none of these things frighten me. But I
didn't realize how difficult it would be when life put her ugly hand in the game to just complicate things.
So, as with all things, enormous difficulties presented themselves and being unable to handle things myself from here I was forced to enlist the help of friends and family. I made the world move- twice- just for me. Looks like all on this front is ok.
So here I am, about 2 weeks from the first of possibly 3 very important dates for me.
But in the month that has passed, in the huge disappointment I suffered in December, now the result is that none of it seems worthwhile anymore. I broke free of my delusion and reality slapped me in the face - hard.
I have questioned my motivations, I have serious doubts as to this being the right thing, were I even to achieve it (which is also nearly impossible given I have a 6% chance). Still...in leaving room for doubt I have let a lion out of its cage.
I am beginning to seriously consider giving up, but my pride won't let me. I don't want my abandonment to be a slap in the face to all who helped me get where I am right now. And since this is a competition, and I am so close to it all, I feel I might as well try.
Trying, however, means at least 2 more months of all this ridiculous studying which has already consumed my life since November. For something which at the very end will culminate in a thing over which I will have absolutely NO control. If I smile the wrong way or have the wrong name I might be excluded no matter what I know or how well I did previously. It's this thought that plagues me at 4 in the morning. Wasting 5 months of my life on something which may fall into the shitter and NOT due to my own negligence.
Still, so close why not try?
Even if it's only to bug a friend who is also doing this, though her motivations are far less real or noble. And she does everything in her power to annoy the shit out of me and plague me with her paranoia. Honey...I have plenty of my own. Thanks.

I don't know. I'm babbling.
But what I do know is that there are moments when I want to weep and send the books flying across the room or off the balcony.
Why do we always arrive to doubt what we thought we desired so badly?

well folks

2008-01-21T08:05:00.000+01:00

It was a rough week back, given my horrendous return trip from the South Pole
and jet lag...but I made it here to another Monday. I am tired as hell, this weekend was spent mostly cleaning, putting 7 loads of laundry away, and translating documents for the people who enjoy making my life hell, the Italian government.
I have a lot to study this week, and am still trying to get used to sleeping during "normal" hours. I fall into phases during the day that a narcoleptic would be proud of. The worst time is about 2 pm...my eyes slowly start to close and before I know it I am pinching myself to stay awake.
One good thing has come of my getting away. I have returned mentally relaxed, and quite apathetic. Which compared to my mental and physical state of being a month back is quite the step in the right direction. Now all I need to do is study, keep my fingers crossed, and lay low for the next 2 months. In April my life starts to gain a semblance of "normality" and that is nevertheless saying a lot, for my standards anyway.
Pictures very soon and I am entertaining the idea of writing my travel diary online, but the more I ponder the less I want to face the task.
We'll see. For the moment, looks like smooth sailing.
Holler at me.

back from the dead

2008-01-14T13:37:00.000+01:00

It took me nearly 56 hours but I made it back from the end of the world. More to come.

i'm so damn tired

2007-12-20T15:51:00.000+01:00

Cry in front of a man and 9 out of 10 times he'll fall in love with you.
Of course it depends...but if he has had any feelings for you whatsoever
and if he EVER entertained the idea of being with you, if you shed
even one single tear in his presence it's over. Whether you want him or not,
he will begin thinking incessantly of you.
A man has an incredible need to "save" a woman and he feels obliged,
if you are or seem unhappy, to make you feel like there is "something better"
out there and usually that that "something" is him.
It is generally untrue...we do not need a man to save us, nor are we searching for
something "better."
But what is true is the need for us to sometimes feel understood and accepted,
no questions asked. To be able to say something at face value and NOT have to
explain away the under-meanings.
I don't even know what I am trying to get across..
All I know is I shed a few tears in the supermarket today (HOW PATHETIC IS THAT??!!!)
mainly because I just cannot take the pressure anymore. There I was in frozen foods with tears streaming down my face.
And poor Lorenzo was witness. He is the sweetest guy in the world...a proper gentleman and a sensitive soul...an intelligent man who is content with working at the market, despite his business
degree.
Yes, that is how bad the job market is here. People with business degrees work in supermarkets and
are lucky to have a fixed job.
But I digress.
Lorenzo looked at me with those puppy eyes and said "Hmm..I've never seen you sad before,
and I wonder what has caused it. I'm sorry...if there's anything I can do..."
If there only were....
But there it is. He stared after me as I moved into the next aisle...and I knew. I had unknowingly
caused him to think of me.
As if I don't have enough problems already.

blood, sweat, and a lot of tears

2007-12-17T16:54:00.000+01:00

Phase 1 is over.
I passed.
Now I face what will be for me the hardest part.
Talking in a language which is essentially not mine about stuff I could give 2 shits about.

it just doesn't seem fair

2007-12-12T18:18:00.000+01:00

I don't know.
I have really had one of the worst months of my entire life.
And tomorrow...tomorrow is the first of two exams which might change my
life forever.
Statistically I don't stand a chance in either one, but I have been studying an average of
5-7 hours a day (and sometimes more!) to prepare for this wicked test which will surely
be everything I am NOT expecting.
As I review the tome that is my textbook and copy over and over again the quiz questions
( I swear if I have to number sheets of paper any more times I am going to lose it), I wonder
where the justice is.
The justice, my friends, is LONG gone. It took a bus to Cali and never looked back.

Is it fair to study for hours on end, day after day, all to prepare for a 30-question
multiple-guess exam???? People...my textbook is over 1000 pages and I have been
trying to memorize close to 2500 quiz questions...and the exam they will give will have
30.
Thirty. I can write it all I want but it doesn't get better. THIRTY.
Thirty questions and an oral exam away from a possible job and financial security.
Too bad I have a 0,3 percent chance of making it on the list within the numbers they want.
Jeez. I'd open a bottle of Jack right now and call it a night, but I fear waking up tomorrow shy 3 neurons and they just might be equivalent to about a 200-question loss and I can't afford that.

Speaking of drink, I saw a guy today on the bus drinking white wine out of a box. It was
11am. Boy, you know you have a problem when you find yourself on public transport mid-morning drinking something that tastes like wet newspaper.
Guess I'm better off than I thought.

And to put the cherry on the shitcake, a man older than my own father has been hitting
on me for weeks now. Today he gave me perfume and a Christmas card in scribbled, very poor
English. I don't know what's worse...being courted by a man twice my age or the insinuation that I stink. Perhaps he was trying to get "personal." It severely failed and only succeeded in scaring
the living hell out of me.

I need a vacation.

dreams

2007-12-08T13:22:00.000+01:00

I have several recurring nightmares. 2 nights ago I had one.
This particular dream I have about once a month, and I can't connect
circumstance to event but it is often triggered by anxiety regarding my studies.

In this nightmare I am informed that while investigating old files, the high school district discovered some discrepancies and it turns out I shouldn't have graduated. I am ordered back to high school (at 30!) and not to some evening recuperation program...I am enrolled in the full-time program with all the teens!
There I must pass a few courses in order to fulfill the requirements and regain my status as a "graduate."
SO there I am, roaming the school in heels and trying to figure out where the hell I have to be and when. This is the worst aspect of it all...I am constantly confused about which period it is, where I have to be, and the school is absolutely ENORMOUS and I can never bloody find
where I need to be going.
When I actually do make it to the right class, I am told that I have several absences, I haven't turned in homework, and if I don't make all this up I will fail, meaning I have to attend ANOTHER semester!
It is truly awful, as it is also in direct contrast with how I actually was back then (a total nerd who was NEVER late and averaged A's).
Though often in a mental daze, this time around I do seem to be popular and
rather liked. But then again it might be due to the fact that I am wandering the halls in tight skirt-suits and Gucci heels.
Hormonal teenage boys tend to respond to that sort of thing.

Another dream I have been having much more frequently is a tad more bizarre.
I am forced, in one way or another, to change trains or subways or trams. So there I am, running from platform to platform, and as soon as I get on, I discover that I am on the wrong means of transport and immediately struggle to get off. I rush around as well, as one train is generally arriving right when
I am getting off the other. Tracks are a constant in these dreams as is a feeling of general disorientation.

Last night I also dreamt of Shay. If you're reading this, though I know you aren't, thanks...it was nice of you.

Back to my studying.

wow

2007-12-03T18:29:00.000+01:00

I haven't written since the 21st. Only...what ...12 days ago?
It seems like an eternity. So much has happened to me in these twelve days that
were I to sit down and actually relate it all, it would be unbelievable.
All I know is that I am here now, and there is a situation to be faced, and time is of
the essence.
The rest of my life is on hold until all this pans out. And it will, one way or another.
Whether I am ready or not.

turkey and fools

2007-11-21T19:38:00.000+01:00

There is no Thanksgiving here. Italians are not taught to be thankful. They are brought up to to whine and complain.
Some of that must have rubbed off on me in the years I have been living here, since when "times get tough" I notice
myself bitching a lot as well.
The past two weeks have been some of the most difficult in my life. Physically and mentally exhausting, circumstance
drove me on with an objective in mind and I followed, head down and blinders on, militant in my desire to succeed.
Now, due to a bureaucratic glitch and obtuse thinking, all I have been so diligently working for may go up in flames.
I haven't drowned yet, but I am at the bottom of the pool and water is slowly filling my lungs. The next days will see me
anxious and hopeful, but I can just as surely drown as I may also be saved.

It never ceases to amaze me how often our lives, our very futures are placed into the hands of fools wearing the cloaks of
public and diplomatic administrators, hell-bent on "following guidelines" even when said rules are nonsensical and
absolutely illogical.
I took Thanksgiving away with me when I moved here. It's my favorite holiday, and that is saying a lot as I am also not one to celebrate much of
anything .
I miss my family and friends dearly, and would love to entertain the idea of flying home tomorrow. This being impossible
I wish everyone a Happy Turkey day full of laughter and cheer. Tomorrow I will come home from work at 8pm, make some potatoes
and a roasted chicken, and be thankful for the little things. They are the only elements in my life right now that seem in any
way to make sense.
My love to all my dearest ones...

war and peace

2007-11-17T17:34:00.001+01:00

I wish I were a Spartan. Or a gladiator.
Fearless, resolute, steadfast, and mighty.
Instead, I feel like a whiny bitch.
Without the need for enemies or adversaries, I single-handedly
manage to stab myself with my own sword during a battle
I desperately want to win.
I can't even raise my shield because I am too weak, and it would
be best to hoist it against myself.
I'm in a funk, it's official. All this pressure is getting to me.
Last night I had a vodka tonic and some Bugles for dinner.
Christ.
Someone out there have any advice? Do they sell confidence on Ebay???

oh...

2007-11-16T20:03:00.001+01:00

crap.

if hell had a name...

2007-11-14T08:56:00.000+01:00

I have to say that there is not too much to report. Those informed of my present situation
understand that my life right now is the following cycle: sleep, study, work, study, sleep.
Somewhere in there I manage a bathroom break and some food, and maybe an episode of Seinfeld.
Other than that I have little appetite for anything else.
All of this madness will end in late February, but until then I have two major deadlines...one in 28 days and the other in Feb. A virus took over Britain in 28 days, let's see what havoc I can wreak.
Both dates are extremely important. Since I have passed most Christmases and birthdays getting nothing or getting useless crap,
I am hoping in a special Christmas or birthday present
this year. It doesn't matter which. It wouldn't be anything I can touch or wear, but it would be
so much more.

Still, I wonder if I think about this too much. I try to tell myself that I don't care...but if I let down my guard for just a second
it all comes to the surface. I desire this SO much, more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. Perhaps only one other
time I worked this hard and with such fervor towards something.
Panic attacks have been lurking about, but I am desperately
trying to keep them at bay. I have no time
for this psychological masturbation. There are two tasks at hand that must be faced, and the clock is ticking.
I am really going against all odds. And the odds are not in my favor. But I have to find the courage to believe and to finally look at myself with the regard that I have been denying myself all these years.
Otherwise I don't stand a chance and I will be my worst enemy.

Life is so simple and yet complicated at the same time. I covet this opportunity with every fiber of my being. I am doing everything in my power to make it happen. What more can I expect of myself? Yet the temptation is to beat myself up before the fight has even begun. Bad. Very bad.
We'll see where all this will lead. Nothing is given to us in this world, I know that all too well. But if the cosmos has any debt with me at all...I've signed the check and I would like to cash in, please. PLEASE....

sorry

2007-11-08T17:18:00.001+01:00

What better way to deal with your troubles?
I'm taking a Madonna break. Not that anyone needs to know details, but I am indeed
dancing about my room right now in knickers and a little t-shirt.
Madonna totally kicks ass. Really, it's only comparable to when I do the songs and
routines from Chicago. Step aside, Renee Zellweger....

trickery

2007-11-08T15:31:00.000+01:00

Rancor...it is flowing through my veins like poison.
Shall I compare thee to....

Iago:
It is as sure as you are Roderigo,
Were I the Moor, I would not be Iago.
In following him, I follow but myself;
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, for my peculiar end;
For when my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In complement extern, 'tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.

Othello Act 1, scene 1, 56–65

Or perhaps in three words He said it best:

Caesar:
"Et tu, Brute?"

Julius Caesar (III, i, 77)

Whether my enmity will turn into hostility, I have yet to decide.
The most logical path to take would be one of animosity.
And animosity almost certainly leads to hostility.
But I wonder is that healthy? Should I waste this precious energy
on such negative emotions?
Is the best revenge really served cold?
I must gather my strength and focus on the task at hand. I think following the
shadowy, silent path I may come out victorious. If not at least I'll die trying.

grr

2007-11-05T17:22:00.000+01:00

I know things, and I pray they are not true, and yet the pessimistic side of me knows better. Most of the time:
There is no justice in the world.
People do not get what they deserve or merit.
People do not appreciate anything.
There is no explaining the chaos behind most events, nor is there an excuse for stupidity.
Stupidity still abounds.

Nothing in particular happened today, at least to me. I just kept my ears and eyes on alert.

Did a favor for someone who had no right asking it. Though it cost me little and I did it to help,
I had no other ulterior motives. But I expected at least a thanks. Not even that.

Note to self: People blow.

Of cats and men

2007-10-31T14:14:00.000+01:00

Well, my eldest cat Matilda (the one in my profile picture), has chronic bronchitis. This means M. and I must give him cough syrup at least twice a day. (And no, it's no mistake. Matilda IS a male cat, the mistake having really been made by the vet all those
years ago when I had already chosen a name). Anyway, have you ever tried to give a cat anything orally? Unless I've dipped my finger in
ice cream, Bailey's, or pizza my cat won't touch it.
It's about as easy as getting him to go where I want.
So...we get around the difficulty, so to speak, by injecting syrup down the poor feline's throat
with a syringe. (No needle of course). Problem with this is you need to be steel-nerved and quick...two things I definitely am not.
The cat will squirm, look horrified, hiss, and bite. My hand trembles and Maurizio yells. So imagine the scene, me sleepy as hell both morning and evening trying to coerce
the creature into immobility all the while wielding this syringe and praying I don't miss. My bad aim means I get a forearm full of strawberry syrup for breakfast, and I have to wash myself, the cat, and the bedspread.
On a good day it all goes down smoothly and then in the morning rush I probably lose the syringe. I've had to buy 3 new ones in as many weeks, so now I am
quite sure the pharmacist thinks I am a junkie. I got that look the last time I went in. The raised eyebrow "another one, eh?" look, sneaking a peek at my arms while
wrapping up my purchases.
Bastard. Now I am terrified of losing this one and so I diligently replace it into the box with the syrup.
On another note, it stopped raining and has turned into a warm day.
I have noticed that my overall patience with people has grown extremely thin. I have been counting to ten...a LOT.
Perhaps it's the fact that the general population is rude, ignorant, selfish, and stinky? Public transport and the supermarket have become real trials for me. I came this close to telling an old woman to fuck off today. She kept line hopping at the registers...and putting herself NEXT to me in line when it seemed that the one I was in was moving quicker. Finally I turned and bit my lip...but something came out anyway. "Which line are you in ma'am?" She stared back at me, befuddled, oh how I know and hate that look. "What does it matter?" she replied stupidly in a half-laugh. I wanted to say "It matters because if you move again I am going to shove my umbrella up your ass." Instead I found it was safer to say "I am the next in line here, and so I would appreciate you not queueing next to me. Unless you want to pay for my groceries."
Someone grant me the serenity to NOT kill all these people I keep running into.

Just because

2007-10-25T08:19:00.000+02:00

Ok. So I have no real reason for this. But I don't really need one, do I?
Anyway, it's time for a caustic post.

I dislike Reese Witherspoon and Jake Gyllenhaal.
I used to be neutral on her, and I've always hated him, but now that
they are supposedly together it turns my stomach.
He may have been a gay cowboy and I appreciate that, but I could barely sit
through Zodiac. I don't like him and I don't like his acting.
It's like that guy who did Spiderman. (And he could have really spared us that
last installment). I hate him too. I lump them together in a category I call
"better to lose 'em than keep 'em."
Jake's a caricature to me, not a real person.
And speaking of caricatures...Reese could stop a train with that chin.
You know, come to think of it, I hate Ryan Phillippe as well. That's her
ex-husband.
She has poor taste in men, and they obviously like horses.
Since I'm on a roll...Melissa Joan Hart. You know, of Sabrina the Teenage Witch fame. The one
with the fucked-up eye. How did she get on fucking television???

Now a man who's really attractive...Ricky Martin. I know he's a closeted
Latino singer but I have loved him since Menudo. The man is hot, sexy, and
has a voice that could melt glaciers. (Did I mention the ass that won't quit?)

So there you have it. Since I ran out of coffee today, this is what y'all get instead.

He

2007-10-23T19:51:00.000+02:00

He was the befuddled kind.

Welcome to my world

2007-10-23T12:54:00.001+02:00

Well, it's Tuesday. The weekend passed by as quickly as usual, though I found it extremely relaxing.
Except for the part on Sunday night when I got an ear infection. An ear infection! I mean, what am I? 2 years old?
Doctor thinks it's all the running outdoors...wind blowing and colder temperatures have taken a toll on my
fragile ears. I think there are too many people in the world, and as a result too many germs everywhere.
I have mentioned my fear of germs, have I not?
So now I am on antibiotics which I despise because a) I allow pharmaceutical companies to make money off of me
b) I can't drink c) They make me feel icky and spacey
When you are trying to explain the intricate differences between the present perfect simple and the continuous
to a group of sleepy, inattentive bankers you need to be somewhat lucid.
I am literally counting the days until the coming weekend. After 2 doses my ear still throbs and I am looking forward
to a two-hour lesson this evening with a person I don't know. A stranger with an unknown, untested level of English
knowledge. Will he be good, thus 2 hours fly by? Or will he stare back at me befuddled and every minute will seem like eternity?
I will let you know tomorrow. Now I have to fix myself that Xanax cocktail.

not much to report

2007-10-19T18:49:00.001+02:00

Today the Tube smelled like boiled cabbage. Of course I live in Milan, and so it's not called the Tube, I am just beguiling my mind into thinking I live in London.
So, in the metropolitana today it smelled like golombki. And for those of you who haven't had the fortune of being raised Polish in a place with a very cold winter,
golombki are cabbage wraps. You know, stuffed cabbage. Filled with...well, every Polish mother does it differently. At my house it's more or less a mixture of minced meat, fried cabbage (because you can't have enough of those Cruciferae!), onion, spices, and rice or barley. All of this is nicely baked in a tomato or mushroom sauce and served piping hot.
Hungry yet?
On another note, while waiting patiently at a bus stop today a sweet old lady told me I had a nice ass. Swear to god. Well, she didn't use those precise words. She said I had a nice "bottom." What ensued was my (very) embarrassed reply of "Thanks?" and then her telling me all about her youth, and how she had had a nice ass too and so there was hope for me in my old age, because, you know, she still had it at 77. I won't deny she was a good-looking 77-year-old, but I wouldn't go so far as to say she "still" had "it," unless "it" meant dentures and age spots.
Suffice it to say the day has been amusing. I just returned from a long run, I have a bath drawn, and later dinner with friends. Not a bad Friday at all.

Oh it never ends

2007-10-17T14:39:00.001+02:00

My bad.
It seems my mentally impaired neighbor with a proclivity for musicals is a television star. And here I was making fun.
Not only that, as his webpage illustrates, he is also a dj and presenter. Well, I'll be damned. He seemed like a plain old serial killer to me.
It was Monday evening, around 9pm, and we were just getting done with dinner when a program called "Distraction"
came on. The show is light and entertaining, a quiz of sorts where the contestants attempt to answer questions while
being tortured. By this I mean getting hit in the face with eggs, having to snap a rubberband against their noses, and so on.
The host is an excellent showman and makes it work.
This year, they have a boy band singing on the show. And I use the term very loosely. 5 middle-aged men, all possessing some kind of
"peculiarity." Who happens to be one of these fab five? That's right, ladies and gentlemen. My neighbor.
So hats off-- who am I to judge? I guess I should feel honored to be listening to him "rehearsing" on a Saturday morning.
Buddha save us.

Now it's war

2007-10-15T08:16:00.000+02:00

He did it again.
Manic-Depressive Speech Impediment Boy's rousing rendition of "O Sole Mio" was NOT appreciated by the staff.
Not at 2pm on a Saturday, when I already had been rudely startled into the world of the conscious and animate by
his morning set. I was only trying to take a nap...
You can't imagine how long someone "not altogether there" can amuse himself by singing the same 4 songs repeatedly.
Apparently Accountant Brother was not present, leaving Brother #2 the run of the house. I could just seem him hustling
about his living room in tight white underpants and a wife beater.
Well, I didn't want it to come to this. It is a last resort, a secret weapon of sorts which has worked for years in situations worse
than this.
I am going to have to pull out the big guns.
Wagner.
Sure, he was an adulterous racist with a penchant for pink silk intimates, but you have to admit the man could pen
a really LOUD opera. And I just happen to have surround sound in the bedroom, and my speakers are mobile.
Now, as I rub my hands together in sheer delight I am trying to imagine the scene. He'll plug in the karaoke...and at the first
measure I will be at the ready with my cd, an opera-wielding Lady Deathstrike.
I wonder how Old Boy will feel after 12 hours of Das Ring des Nibelungen. I might just throw in Parsifal at the end to make my kill.

Kara....what???

2007-10-13T09:34:00.001+02:00

I woke up this morning (or rather, I was woken up) to the sounds of my neighbor singing karaoke. It was 7:20am. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse.
Now, these neighbors are new. I live in a building made by someone who should have been strung up by his ankles. The walls are rice paper and when someone sneezes next door, I say "Bless You." I spend most of the time in my flat conversing in near whispers out of terror of being overheard. Ah...I skipped a detail. My bedroom shares the wall with the neighbors' kitchen/living room. Grand.
Why don't I move? Well, the aesthetic of the exterior is very nice. The neighborhood is wonderful. I bought the flat two months before the Euro currency took over here, meaning I spent very little for what is now an expensive flat. I can't afford to move.
The neighbors I had before were a crazy couple, who then had a crazy child. She yelled all the time about everything, and I passed a good 6 years listening to her screams at 7:30 am on Sunday mornings. Once the baby came, I heard Mom shout and the baby. Poor baby, what did she know? As the years passed she grew into a mini version of her Mom, shrieking became normal for her too...hey, Mom always did it. I was a nervous wreck.
When they told me this fall that they were moving, I was overjoyed. And then a sense of dread washed over me..."My God, who will be moving in???"
Well, two brothers moved in. In their 50s, unmarried, and even crazier than the family living here before them. One is seemingly normal...accountant type. The other looks like a serial killer, dresses funny, and slurs his words when he speaks. Speaking...this is rare for him. To him, it's normal to scream at the top of his lungs. This is the brother singing this morning. Imagine for a moment what that sounded like. He was singing..."Pazza come una terrazza." Crazy like a terrace. God how ironic!
So, it is with heavy heart that I face each evening. Will they scream and blaspheme all night? (Yes, I forgot to mention they LOVE to blaspheme). Shall I be able to get to sleep before 1am?

I didn't think so many people were nuts in the world. And they all seem to be living in this building.

Alprazolam you are my friend

2007-10-11T09:20:00.000+02:00

I don't know what's happened to me over the last few months, or maybe it's been years, but I realize that I have become painfully shy and socially awkward. I was always quiet and a bit detached, but I notice that I am withdrawing further and further into myself as time passes.
My anthropophobia and agoraphobia/demophobia have got worse, and I have begun to dread attending any function where there are people I don't already know, but even a trip to the supermarket or the bus ride to work can get me anxious. I fear strangers speaking to me or insulting me. (And gratuitous insults actually happen quite often here in Milan. People are crazier than I am). In an effort to shield myself from this I am perpetually attached to my mp3 player with my nose in a book. I try to look as unapproachable as possible. Generally it works.
I think a lot of it does boil down to my living here in Italy. Even though years have passed, and in many ways I have assimilated into this sometimes strange culture, I still don't feel it my own. I feel alone and "different" and the strength of these sensations makes me externalize my discomfort. As a result I fear I either intimidate people, wrongly look snobbish, and/or scare the bloody hell out of everyone. I would really like to go for being ignored.
It takes a long time for me to open up with new people, and once/if I do I still feel like I am constantly under scrutiny. The pressure suffocates.

Strangely enough, my job allows me to "play" a different person for an hour and a half at a time. The classroom is my stage and I fear no one for I am QUEEN. Step out of line on my time and hell will break loose. But when the bell rings, and my curtain drops, I am yet again locked in a closet with my monsters.

I don't spend enough time in the States to understand if my timid nature extends also to being with my long-time friends, though I don't think so as they are people who knew me at my worst (and so there would be no need for me to fear judgment from them now). Still I am amazed that in my condition I was able to make any friends at all. There must be something in me yet if my old friends remain.
Drinking helps in overcoming the shyness, and so does Xanax, but I have recently radically reduced my intake of both and so in the future I won't be able to count on my Alprazolam cocktail to give me the courage to socially interact. My best behaviour at parties is to hold a glass of wine, sit in a corner, and smile. Making me look like some mental patient released on parole for her monthly "day out"...