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. :)
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
pass the crack pipe, grandpa
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.
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.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
i can see clearly now...
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.
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.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
???
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
screw this
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
of cats and men
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.
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.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
soul vomit
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.
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.
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