Sometimes nothing is better than your own language

Per la prima volta in questo blog scrivo in italiano, solo per un paio di motivi: il primo è che mi dispiace continuare a scrivere di quanto sono stanca della convivenza forzata in Bevendean Crescent, non importa quanto le ragazze siano gentili e simpatiche, ne ho semplicemente piene le scatole, di svegliarmi la mattina e aver paura a scendere in cucina per il probabile casino nel lavandino, di sentire la polacca lamentarsi delle finestre sporche quando il casino che lascia sul fornello dopo una delle sue colazioni leggere (funghi e uova, o insalata di tonno...) rimane a farci compagnia per giorni finchè esasperata mi metto a pulire, e potrei continuare per ore, ma meglio fermarsi qui. Insomma, non è bello scrivere qui in inglese quanto non ne possa più, soprattutto dato che la polacca lo legge, il mio blog...

La seconda ragione, naturalmente, è che ci sono argomenti che preferisco affrontare in italiano per evitare che il mio adorato omino li venga a sapere. Non credo che legga il mio blog, ma non si può mai sapere. E dato che penso solo e soltanto a lui, è dura non scrivere di lui, prima o poi...
Insomma, sto pensando, sempre e comunque, se andarmene, se cercare fortuna in patria, se lasciare questa ventosa insopportabile Brighton e una casa ad affitto stratosferico che devo dividere con tre persone, e tornare nella fredda bellissima valle, trovarmi il mio monolocale TUTTO MIO, nel quale tornare alla fine di una giornata infernale passata a insegnare, e semplicemente starmene per conto mio, finalmente in silenzio, come dico sempre, la cosa più difficile. Da un lato siamo tutti soli; dall'altro, non lo siamo mai veramente.

Penso al master, che vorrei davvero fare, anche se solo per togliermi il capriccio, da una vita voglio fare un master in film studies, penso a quanto lo voglio fare, e a quanto è inutile. Poi penso che se potessi trasferirmi in una città più decente, lo farei, perchè detesto Brighton; infine penso che sono qui solo e unicamente per lui. Damn. Penso a quello che ci siamo detti e a quello che mi ha detto lui, così confuso, dopotutto, un mix tra "non ti voglio" e "ti voglio, ma adesso è troppo presto per me", tra "aspettami" e "va per la tua strada". Ci penso e ci ripenso. Non passa giorno, non passa un'ora che il pensiero non mi sfiori, senza pensare a lui.
Avremmo dovuto parlare meglio, quando ci siamo lasciati a novembre, ma era così sconvolto che non ho voluto infierire con domande e quant'altro. E so che ho fatto bene. Tuttavia, anche adesso che vedo il suo comportamento, le lacrime agli occhi quando gli ho dato il "buono abbraccio" la settimana scorsa, il caffè che mi ha regalato l'altra sera, il fatto che si sia seduto vicino a me al bar sabato, invece che di fronte (sembra una scemata ma conoscendolo so cosa significa)...insomma, a volte mi illudo, spero che siano nuovi segnali positivi, poi combatto per tornare con i piedi per terra e convincermi che sono semplicemente suoi modi di essere, dolce e gentile, affettuoso, premuroso. Poi parlo con qualcuno, o ricevo una mail che cerca di fare breccia in questa debole convinzione, che cerca di farmi capire che non devo mollare, perchè chiaramente lui mi ama ed è confuso, e forse da un lato sto facendo bene ad aspettare, dall'altro invece dovrei prendere il coraggio a quattro mani e dirglielo bene, in faccia, che deve decidere, perchè se non mi vuole io me ne vado, e non mi rivedrà più, torno in Italia, adios. Eppure so che se gli dicessi una cosa del genere lui mi risponderebbe che devo fare quello che credo sia giusto per me. Quindi tanto vale.

Per il momento sto solo ferma, e aspetto, e se la profe riesce ad organizzare tutte quelle cose di cui abbiamo parlato a dicembre, e arriva il momento VERO di prendere una decisione, credo che solo allora parlerò, e gli chiederò, o forse no. Forse, semplicemente, gli dirò che lui è la sola ragione per cui sono qui, e che sarei disposta a rinunciare a tutto per lui.
Solo per lui.

Cracking crackers

Right before going back to room 5 for the second part of today's lesson...Things are very quiet these days, and I must say that I am happy to leave: I need a holiday, and I need more time to prepare my lessons. Plan for the three Italian weeks, to be precise: prepare at least 20 lessons...

In the meantime, the House Christmas Dinner on Tuesday went quite well, with good food, candles, music, and a movie to conclude. I had bought a small present for the 2 housemates and the guest, just to celebrate, I'm glad they liked it. We really had a pleasant night.

Then I walked into my room yesterday afternoon and right by my jade plant I saw this card hiding a bottle of Amaretto, which I happen to like VERY much...Tall Housemate was clearly impressed by my Christmas present:-) Good.

So, there are things to be happy about, at the moment: a good house situation (landlady should bring dvd player AND radio apparently, today), a good work situation (well...although I have no idea what it will be like in January...), and I am going home in a few days!

Finally, I am really glad about going home for Christmas, although I expect some prep talk or such from both parents, and maybe from Teacher Friend too...But hey, I hope I'll be prepared, that's all I can say. I have made up my mind quite right now, and I am convinced that this is the right choice I've made, although it's brought on pain and doubts and confusion, but at the same time it has brought some good things, and I am grateful and glad, it means that I haven't really messed it all up! So, keep your head up, this is all I can do, and work hard.

Never give in, this is also what I always tell myself. Never give in.

Another day off

In a way, it is nice, to lie in...have a lazy breakfast...research quietly on internet...see the gym in an unusual time (not today, though..it's raining too much, and I will stay at home. Going tomorrow after work and Saturday, before meeting up with Ana for coffee).

I went to the King and Queen, last night, after months of going past it and thinking how I would like to go there for a drink. Had a delicious drink too, by the way. The company was enjoyable, with my housemate, Ana, and some Turskish students, including my ex-student Ozge who was half drunk already, for she's been drinking before joining us, beer on an empty stomach while trying to think of her emotional situation with her life-long boyfriend.
We ended up talking of love and relationships, of course. It seems this is the time.

In my case, I am still trying to...feel better. Which is not easy, seen as I cannot erase that upset, shocked face of Ian's, last Friday. His look. The way he almost collapsed on the sofa in the library, the way he said "I'm not happy. I'm disappointed. I think we should break up". His sad, upset face. It breaks me to think of it now.

Then, after the text on Sunday, another text on Monday, saying how he was thinking of me and of how much I must be hurting, how sorry he was, how he was hoping that we could still be friends as we said.

When I received it, I was preparing the songs to load on my mp3 player, which I had planned to give him, as promised, before he left for Malta. The player, together with some chocolate, ended up in an envelope, including a letter with the instructions, and a few words to say how I hoped he was al right, and best luck for the weekend in Malta, and by the way, I am going home on December 17th.

Now, when I wrote that, I forgot to mention that my departure was just an anticipated flight for my Christmas holidays...seen as I have a week's paid holiday, seen as there isn't much to do in school, and I would really like to have some more time to spend at home, what with the holidays being this hectic time. Also, what is the point of the beautiful melancholy Christmas feeling if I cannot share it with Ian? Anyway, flight moved to Monday, 17th, at 6.40.

Evening text: a big thanks from the bottom of his heart for my kindness. And how sorry he is to know that I'm going to go back home. And how sorry he will be when he misses me. And God bless me.

I am shocked, seriously upset. I have to text him back, clarifying that no, it's only a week earlier on my holidays, don't worry, piccolino.

Reply: thanks. Really glad you're not going. Miss you. Hope we can catch up soon.

And so we did. Quite unexpectedly, although deep inside I knew he would text me last night, asking if he could come over for a cup of tea. What I had told him was that I was giving him time and space to prepare for his Malta trip, but I was here, ok? (Thanks, sweet).
So, here he comes. Annoyingly enough, the washing machine is on, filled with Drunk Housemate's clothes, and it is making such noise you'd think they can hear it in Hove; also, Tall Housemate is around, cooking her dinner, and watching loud tv. Then, The Simpsons are on, the volume goes up, the washing machine is spinning and spinning, and it's dangerously getting on my nerves, not to mention the fact that I hoped we could be alone for a moment, talk, quietly, seriously, not chatting about his crazy housemate and my job.
Icing on the cake, which I had completely forgotten: New Housemate pops in, preceded by Landlady and boyfriend, who have brought light bulbs, a clothes horse, and a doorbell.
The house is a messy, noisy, upsetting unsettling tiny space, I can see Ian's expression growing nervous and uneasy, and in a second we share the "time to go" look.
An embarassed half hug, which leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth. I will try to avoid physical contact with him, from now on. Too painful, too pathetic.

I text him later, apologising for the noisy messy place.
The reply is an "aurevoir till Monday", which puts a smile on my face.

Not that I think that we will meet on Monday: he will back sometime past 6, in the morning. Tired, possibly stressed, with his study schedule to catch up, and all that. No, I doubt we will meet on Monday. I am not even sure I want to.

There are things I would like to ask and talk about, with him, and I can't. I should have asked/told him last Friday, as we were breaking up, but I knew better, and he was so upset and sad, how could I trouble him with my words?

Anyway.
As I am writing now, he is on the bus to Gatwick.
As I am writing now, I haven't even started to study, so I should get down to my books.
As I am writing now, I have plans and ideas on the months to come: apply for a scholarship for my master, work out more at the gym, search for more teaching jobs, apply for a certificate for teaching Spanish, start studying (for real!) for my master, stop feeling guilty for leaving mum at home without me.
As I am writing now, I am online with my brother, chatting on Skype. I had to move to Brighton to be friendly with Brother Genius....

Italian Blues

The weekend has come and gone.
Mum was here to visit, and it all started on Thursday night, with Ian coming to see me at 9, and staying here for a long chat until 10.30. Then I read, prepared, tidied…I obviously was nervous, and managed to sleep just enough before waking up and going to catch that impossible bus at 3 am, which dropped me in Stansted at 6.30. I had my breakfast, an endless walk around, and finally mum arrived, early on th schedule, so we could get a coffee and go get the bus for Brighton. We checked in at the B&B, and started off our visit to Brighton, first with a trip to Hove to see where I work, then to the university, where we bought a shirt for brother genius, then to my house to see how lovely and clean it is (spent almost 3 hours cleaning and tidying, on Thursday…now, today, 4 days later, a note on the board in the kitchen tells me that noisy housemate on drugs has done the chores…yeah, easy). We go back to town, and walk around in the lanes, in the shops, we stop at the Japanese restaurant after buying a dessert at M&S, so we have our dinner, a walk to the pier, and then we are back at the B&B for tea, dessert, tv, cuddles…my, I missed my mum. There is this incredible sadness and nostalgia flowing among us, and I leave the B&B tired and sad.
The morning after I get up and run to the shower, then run to have breakfast with mum: the guys of the B&B, wonderful people, have offered to let me have breakfast with her, since she doesn’t speak the language and it would be nicer for her to be with me during the meal. How lovely of them. We have a lot of coffee, and toasts with jam, and then we head for the library, and the North lane, before catching the bus to Rottingdean, where we walk around, to the gardens, we take pictures; before starting to go to the windmill Ian calls to say hello, to ask how things are going. It’s a quick, sweet phone call. He can surprise me, indeed he can.
After Rottingdean we catch another bus, and ideally we want to go to the Marina, but I change my mind, and decide that first we will have lunch and go shopping, then we will have dinner and conclude the day at the Marina, which must be nicer at night (how do I know, I’ve never been there). So we go to lanes again, and to several shops, because mum wants to buy me a present for my birthday, which will be in less than a month but she won’t be here. I can feel this incredible sadness, again, breaking my heart in small, piercing pieces. It’s unbearable.
We go to Sainsbury’s for a quick shopping, chocolate and tea for her, and some stuff for me like fruit and cheese and bread; then it’s B&Q, where she buys me a plant, and tomato seeds for herself. We leave the stuff at home, I get changed, and we go back to town. At M&S we buy more chocolate and our dessert for later, and that is when I find a beautiful long jumper, pink, which can be a fantastic dress with leggings, and so we buy it, and although I pay with my card she wants me to tell her how much she will have to give me, because this is her present for my birthday.
After that we go for dinner to a pub in the lanes, where I have a delicious soup, and she has a delicious roast beef with Yorshire pudding, and we share a pint of ale, and we chat and laugh and conclude with a walk in the lanes again, before going to the B&B and watch more tv, drink tea, eat our dessert (n.b.: M&S’s desserts are not as good as they look. A real disappointment). It’s lovely to watch CSI, I missed it, and it’s also very sad.
On the way back home for the night I cry and cry and cry. I don’t sleep well at all.
In the morning, at breakfast, I look at her and start crying, igniting her tears too. We try to talk while waiting for the bus, and I cannot believe how angry I get when I try to explain that I don’t know what to do, because again, she would be the only reason I would go back home, and it seems to me a very good reason, but I don’t know what else I could do, where I could find a job, how, what, and all I want, all I really want, is to be home with her, and take care of her, with her bad shoulder, and her two jobs where she needs a hand, and the chores where she is paying to have the house clean but I could do it better and for free, and all that. I just want to help and be with her, because then she would be happy. And at the same time I start asking myself, why am I here? So I try and make a list of the reasons to stay here and the reasons to leave. And I cannot think. I get so sad and depressed. We cry a bit more on the bus to Stansted, and when it’s time for her to leave we hug and we cry so much, and I think, and say, joking, that I must be really growing old, to get so emotional, as if we were leaving to never meet again. And it scares me to think that her health is not too good, and that she needs me. I manage to stay calm and watch her go through the x-rays, waving goodbye to the last minute, when I lose her sight, and then I wait a minute more and turn to go and catch the bus, bent, crying. I cry for hours on the bus. I get to Brighton and look at the sky, clear at last, and I think of the city, dirty and full of mad people, full of noisy, dangerous people, with no brass band, with nothing to hold on to. I go to bed and am crying, out of tiredness and more.
This morning I wake up confused and tired in the bones. I manage to do a pretty good lesson, all in all, although I feel I am not really here, my head is in a thick fog, and I am not well. I prepare tomorrow’s lesson, and something for Wednesday’s too, then I walk to the library, and I am so tired I almost fall asleep. Then a quick round at the gym, only 45 minutes, where I shock the personal trainer who sees that last week I did run 55 minutes…I know, I am full of surprises.
I catch my bus to come back home, and tidy the kitchen, eat some cheese and carrots, finally tidy my room. I am now in my bed, waiting for mum to call, and thinking.
I’ve just been on the chat with some guys from the band, who are supporting me in my decision to stay: career, and whatever.
My fogged mind can only think that I miss my mum and want to go home to be with her, and snuggle on the sofa while watching CSI, and Cold Case, and then go the cinema on Sunday, and go back to the quiet routine of Saturday chores and shopping, and walks and all that. It is so difficult.
Then I think, my master will start in 11 months. I could as well go back home, work for 6 months somewhere, then come back here for the summer (or somewhere else in England) as a TESOL teacher again, and move back here for the beginning of the master, which would be part-time, so I would still need my job at Sprach, which is why I would come here for the summer, so to keep my job from, say, April/May onwards. On the other hand, I have applied for two jobs, at the university library, part- and full-time. I hope to get either, really, because the part-time would be perfect to let me keep my teaching job, and the full time…well, full time, permanent, in a library? A dream coming true, nothing less. So both things would make me happy. Not that I have any hope, let’s face it. That is why I was thinking about going back home, but deciding it after the (possible) interview for these jobs, which would prove what a useless scam I am, and would seal my decision that home is the best place to be, because at least I would be useful for mum, comfort and help in the house and with her second job. That seems to be my only aim in life.
Of course, things would have been a lot more different if what happened in September hadn’t happened. Then I would have been my selfish me, I suppose, although it is not a side of my personality, which is why sometime I believe I have been punished for becoming so selfish all of a sudden, for thinking only of how happy I was, for the first time in my life. This makes me think, also, of how painful it is to be here, sometimes, especially when I am not in a good mood, and of how painful it is to just go around the university, or even around the lanes, sometimes, if I am not concentrating on daydreaming or (unsuccessfully) planning some lesson.
This morning, one of the teachers, the funny one, gave me a joking hug after he pretended to hit me with a book, since I was standing in front of the shelves again, daydreaming of something else. Told like this it sounds bad, but he is an incredibly funny guy, he really makes me laugh, and he’s affectionate, and I miss human contact. As always. I miss a good, real hug. England sucks, on this sort of things.
To cheer up before mum calls me, I am now watching some videos from a comedy programme I used to watch back home.
I need some time to think. Ian texted me this morning, and then called me tonight, sweet child. I would like to talk to him, and have to wait until he’s ready to meet me and have our usual talk, cup of tea, whatever. He brings me chocolate when he comes to visit. He’s nice and sweet. Sometimes, though, I get the idea that he behaves like this out of some guilty feeling towards me, for dragging me in Brighton and then dumping me like this, for hurting me like he did. Sometimes I feel I am this useless emotional burden he’s rather do without. Of course, I cannot tell him that. This is another taboo subject. My word, we are so alike, it takes my breath away.
So, one more time, I need time to concentrate, and try and work things out about my future. I guess my next post will be something like “pros and cons of Brighton life”…prepare.

Offer recommended

...I am checking my Sussex account for the ...th time, and still "awaiting consideration" shining on the screen. At least, I think, they are not waiting for one or more references, as I got my tutor/supervisor/boss to write one for me and send it, and he did it on the same day. Trust "ordinary" people more than academic professors, that's my advice.
I leave the school some time past two, cold and with a cold, not feeling the tiredness resulting from a sleepless night (a cold, general worries building in my mind, random images haunting me, and my housemate coming home at 2, or 4, and slamming doors, and deciding to take a shower, and slamming more doors...nice girl, ok, but one who lets you know when she's in...). Anyway, I walk to the library, receive a call from the guys of the clerical job I was interviewed for last week, who turn me down because they've chosen somebody else, although "you've really done well, we've all been impressed" (uh-hu), and since I have finally received my payslip, life feels somehow easier, sunnier, generally improving. So much that I decide to reward myself with my very favourite drink from Pret, which is an amaretto latte, and life is even sunnier now.
I go to the computer room straightaway, and log on, start emailing people, check my "official" email a couple of times and nothing new, so I wander about just to kill time, then I start replying to Gym friend, and suddenly I think I could check my account on Sussex uni, just for fun, because I haven't done so for the past hour, and I miss the familiar "awaiting consideration" line on my application status.

Application status: offer recommended.

Excuse me?

Offer recommended.

www.my-official-email-address.it, and let's check, because one minute ago I had absolutely nothing in my mailbox. Now I've got two. Ok, one is the usual spam...But the second is something coming from the university, and it heads "your application at the University..".
Open email.

I am pasting it here because it's too beautiful:

Dear Peggy
MA in Film Studies
Entry: Oct 2007

I am delighted to inform you that following careful consideration the selectors have recommended that you be offered a place on the above named programme.
The recommendation has been passed to the University's Postgraduate Office for confirmation and a formal offer letter will be sent to you in due course setting out the terms and conditions under which this offer has been made.
In the meantime please do not hesitate to contact your School of Studies at the address below if you have any queries about your programme of study.

Hey! They are DELIGHTED! Can you imagine how delighted I am?

People I have told: my tutor from TESOL, the nice teacher of Indonesian; Ian (who replied with a text in mispelt Italian, but then called me later tonight. I love it when he calls me, because I know that, like me, he is not happy with phone calls, so I appreciate the "effort"); dad; mum; Teacher friend. Then I posted the news on my other blog, on the website of the band.

Ok.
PEOPLE! I HAVE BEEN OFFERED A PLACE ON A MASTER IN FILM STUDIES! THE DREAM COMES TRUE!
I am so happy and excited, and my mind is buzzing with thoughts. This is toooooo cool!

I am watching funny stuff on Youtube now, and start feeling a bit tired. Also, I haven't really prepared for tomorrow's lessons, but I am sure everything will be ok (Luis). Thank goodness I am still my optimistic me, in a way. Think pink.
And God bless you all.

Feeling better?

I don’t know when I will post this, because…well, this is my week so far, and what will be of me in the next days:

After a pretty decent weekend with lots of sunshine and lots of walking, where I spent some good hours at the library reading and working on internet, and on Sunday I went to church and the service was again so good, then I rushed (on foot) to the IT centre at uni to find some houses for my piccolino, who sounded so not happy on Saturday, when he called me to know how I was. I still want to make him happy, like I do with all the people I love. Of course he, like all the people that I love, will not let me do anything for him. This makes me very unhappy, but what can I do. The best I can do is try. Anyway. So, Sunday saw me in Hove at the church, then at the IT centre, then back “home” where I spent the rest of the day, watching dvd, reading, thinking…
Yesterday, Monday, I had a productive day in school, the morning lesson spent squashed in a very small room with 14 students, the afternoon beginning my new set of 1:1 lessons with a Lithuanian guy, whose English is a lot better than his colleague of the past two weeks, so I thought that life was going to be hard on me these two weeks with him..Ideas for 1:1 lessons for an upper-intermediate, anyone?
After that I went to town, and met Ian on the way. he gave me a hug, asked me if I wanted to go for coffee, but since I wasn’t sure about it he proposed a meeting at the library, where I was going. He arrived a short time later and updated me on his days so far, what with being a bit sick, what with having rushed again and signed a contract for a house in Hove which he didn’t really like, etc. Damn! I spent the rest of the day and the evening thinking of how I could help him, of how I could make him feel less unhappy, of what, literally what I could do to make him feel better. Triple damn, this situation is wearing me out. Things could be so much easier. In the evening I didn’t really feel like watching another movie, so I started watching a dvd which I want to use for one of my lessons this week, then switched my laptop off and started thinking, sort of meditating, which is something I am doing a lot more often, recently. Walking to work also helps me in that, it takes me about 45 minutes to get to work, and finally I am back to meditating, thinking deeply, like I used to some years ago, when things were different. Anyway. That is how I spent the last few days.
Today I had two of my most brilliant lessons, both with my lower-intermediate and with my 1:1; for the latter I must thank one of the teachers who gave me the inspiration (and the photocopy) to conduct a fantastic 45-minute lesson where I talked, he talked, he took notes, it was chatting and learning. Cool. I also signed my contract, and got the principal to accept to be my referee for the other jobs I have applied to, and so now I have a job until the end of December, I am crossing my fingers for more opportunities to come my way, which is what I am working for, and more inspiration for my lessons of the week. As a matter of fact, after signing the contract I went straight to the library, had a sort of lunch (yogurt…), prepared my lesson for tomorrow and worked for an hour on Internet, where I sent the other two applications to the uni. Cross your fingers, people, ok?
Finally I went back “home”, got changed, and went to see my new landlady in what is officially my new house, since I have signed the tenancy agreement, given the deposit, on Thursday I will give the first month’s rent, and got the keys. After that I went to see my new room, which has really everything in it! Bed, wardrobe, two chests of drawers, shelves, a bedside table (!), and a desk with a chair!!! I mean, perfect. I haven’t mentioned the big big window facing the street (I’m on the first floor), on the east, which means a lot of light when I wake up…cool. I feel so relieved and excited, and the landlady is so nice and kind. So then I decided against my walk (been walking all day anyway…), went for more yogurt, went back “home” and started packing my stuff. I thought I would bring it in two trips, walking, then decided that I would ask Ian. A quick exchange of texts and we will meet tomorrow here, and everything is packed, so one round should be enough, and with a little luck my ex landlady won’t be around. I will text her in the morning, though, to let her know that I am leaving. It would be very nice if she gave me my deposit back, but I don’t really expect her to do that, so hey, goodbye 100 quid. What can I do? People, listen to my advice: don’t believe ads on internet! And, as Nelson said, the English word “nice” does not correspond to the meaning you would read in a dictionary…anyway.
So for the days to come, here’s the plan:
Move to new house
Pay the first month’s rent
Shop for food for the cosy little cupboard of the cosy kitchen in the cosy new house
Conduct three more brilliant (or decent…I’ll be happy anyway) lessons, and find inspiration for next week’s lessons too - most of my students will still be there, and I have to be imaginative and original…thankfully I am;-)
Admin things: go to bank and inform about change of address, do the same in school.
Find a doctor and register!!!
And when I finally get my payslip, go and buy some useful things like: a pillow, MY mug, a container to bring my lunch to school, prepared with the food I will have stored in the cosy cupboard of the cosy kitchen in the cosy house…
All in all, I am happy. Things are moving, moving the right way, and although occasionally I feel this stinging pain somewhere deep in me, I cannot but thank God for the mornings of sun I wake up to, and the walks to work in the crisp morning air, and the fun I have in my classes, and the good work I am able to do, and the opportunities I have, and the new house I have found, and the nice time at the library, and the second chance I have been given to live my life fully, to give it a deeper meaning that just work and numbness. I am still grateful, in spite of the pain. And as Luisa said, I have an iron “skin”, I am a fighter. And as Luis, my Spanish student always used to say, everything will be all right. I only hope that Ian will soon be happy too.

How are things going? - news by instalment

12.09.07

It hurts so much. It hurts so much. Do you wanna hold hands, he asked me, on the bench outside the library. We walked, he pulled me close, he kissed my hand. Ok, give me an Italian kiss. You’re a good person.
And I’m here alone. And it hurts.
I think I am going back to Italy. I thought this was the beginning of something good, a ray of light. I thought I could be happy. I was so wrong, and I am so sad. I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost and empty. It was so much better when I was (un)comfortably numb. Once again, I have made a mistake, and am now paying the price. It is the most painful price I have ever paid.
I want my Ian back. I want the sun of Sussex in July, the silence in A71, our hands locked together under the desk. I want the walks in the fields, him showing me to play cricket, holding me tight, saying how much happier he was now, pulling me close, caressing my wrist, my back, with his thumb. I want his kiss on my cheek, I want him to bend down, shyly, to kiss me in the morning when we meet at the IT centre or outside the class. I want his sweet texts. I want his face making fun of my pout, I want his strong embrace, I want his smile, his voice. His funny expressions. His way of clearing his throat before saying something important, his voice cracking when he is embarrassed.
He is a person like no-one. And I know that he means what he said, and he’s not going back. I know this is the end. Something in me is praying for us to be friends, when enough time has passed and our wounds have healed. We can be friends, email-friends, we are both better at writing than at speaking, and we will be apart again, and when enough time has passed we can be friends by email. I understand him so much, I have never understood somebody so much, and with little effort, all he has ever said was like coming straight out of my mind, and what he feels has (almost) always been clear to me. Yes, even when he was not feeling too happy about being together, I realised there was something wrong, but pretended to believe it was tiredness and pressure about finding a new house.
The things he said last night, of fearing to enter a relationship that would turn like the one of his neighbours (violent husband); his confusion over his feelings, which for a moment made me hope that not all is lost, when I asked if his feelings had changed. And he simply said that he’s confused. Which to me is a good sign, somehow. But I know he’s not going back. This is the end.
My colleagues at work suggested to wait, wait till he’s settled, and has begun his phd, and all, till he realises that he misses me, which he will, eventually, seen as the reason why he’s called a break is the pressure, and this man-thing of feeling somehow in a cage (after less than two months, of which 3 weeks spent apart???). I would like to believe them, really I would. But I know my piccolino, I know him so well. I know there’s no way he’s changing his mind.
Tomorrow I should receive my contract at work, see for how long and in what terms they want to have me there. In a way, I want to believe my colleagues, and stay at the school for a couple of months more, see what happens, see if they are right. But in the meantime, I have prepared a goodbye compilation for my Ian. In a way, I think that going back to Italy is really the best thing, and maybe it is a thought prompted by the difficulties I am finding here now, apart from being without my Ian: I have no money, no place to live, no family or friends, and feel generally desperate.

13.09.2007

A day after, and although I am still struggling, the fighter in me is…well, fighting. Tomorrow, God-willing, I should be given my contract, and at 5 I am going to see a room, and hopefully it will be a decent room. I have sent a couple of applications for other jobs, and tomorrow will send more, including a very interesting one in Nottingham, which I’d love to do. Fingers crossed, as always, hu? I went to the library after work, and booked a computer for half an hour. I worked, then sat on a sofa to read, and got a phone call from my (very worried) parents. More to work tomorrow. Then I went back to the computer, and for some reason I couldn’t log in as I wanted, so I only managed to be on internet for a few minutes, enough to check my mail again. And there was the most unexpected message, coming from Ian, who has recently registered on Facebook. And he sent me the request to be my friend. I was impulsive as usual (something I tell people they should do, because it’s good to do things on the spur of the moment, sometimes), and replied at once, agreeing to be his friend. How could I not agree?
Later this evening, as I was having bread and lettuce in my bed, watching Monsters Inc. for the umpteenth time, I got a text. I thought it was my mum, since I had texted her a few hours before, instead it was my Ian. Hoping I was ok. Saying that he had listened to my message which I left last night, and heard all I had said. Confirming that he doesn’t want to cut me out of his life either. Asking me (please) to let him know how I am and what I decide to do next week. Ending with the Italian expression I taught him.
I am being strong, and will not reply. Not for a while. I don’t know why, really. In a way, I don’t want him to think that I am living my days waiting for a sign from him. In a way, I also don’t know what to tell him now, because I am still looking around, trying to understand and decide what I want, what I am going to do. In a way, I probably need time too. Time to think and plan, and organise and decide, and feel better with myself. And be able to see a part of my future, at least my next six months. There are so many issues at stake, and thinking about Ian makes life more complicated. After his text last night, before I left my message to him, I was almost convinced that I would leave England next Saturday, the 22nd, because I cannot live here, with somebody in town who is so negative towards me. But then I woke up this morning, tired after yet another sleepless night (woke up at 1, 2, 4, 5…), took the bus to Hove, and the sun on the sea, and people running, and the air, and the pier…I like being here. I like being in England. This afternoon I walked to the library, and I looked at the shops, and at the Pavilion, I spent some time at the library, with the comforting noise of people whispering, the beep of the computers, and it felt good. I feel good here. I would like to try and stay here for a while.
Of course this is a thought I am having now, after a positive (more or less) day. I am still skint, I am still looking for a house and desperate about it, I am still not eating enough and not sleeping enough, I am still quite desperate when I think of the weekend to come, I hate weekends, always have, because all my friends are out with their boyfriends and I was alone. I thought things would change here, and that I would spend a part of my weekends with my wonderful Ian. Things weren’t meant to go this way. I want to be strong, though. And positive and confident that things WILL be better.
Now I’d better go and take my evening shower before watching another movie. Tomorrow I am teaching less because a new teacher will be tested on one of my lessons, so I get some time off to start planning for next week too. Cool. I like this job, I really, really do. I need time to learn to do it better, and this is another reason I would like to stay here.
Time. That’s all I need.

14.09.07

Being strong is not always easy. I didn’t reply to Ian’s text last night, and then this morning, while walking to school, I arrived in Palmeira Square and saw him getting off the bus, start walking to go to work, adjusting his bag on his shoulders, beanie on, poor sweet thing, he was cold. I saw him stop at the church, and wondered if he was going to come to the mass this Sunday, a thought that almost filled me with panic, because I don’t know what to do if I met him now.
I went to work and managed a good lesson, and then another good lesson, and then I made some photocopies, and went to the library, where I worked well for an hour before going to see the house where I am moving on Sunday. It feels good to know that I am moving away from this awful place to a better house, a better room, a nicer area. I had to call my parents, half argue with them about the usual things, ask for money to pay for the deposit and the first month of rent, etc etc. It’s just so hard.
Back to my room I had some yogurt and cereals, and while working on an application form for an interesting job as an Italian lecturer, I received a text from Ian, who is on the train to Swindon to see his family, and who hopes that I am ok, that my lessons went well. I waited for a while and then texted him back, without saying anything about me, only that I hoped he would have a good weekend with his family, to come back safe, and that I hoped things were going ok with him, and praying for him to be happy. Which I am, every single day, trying to overcome the pain of not being together anymore, trying to think that there is a plan beyond this pain and this desperation, trying to accept this horrible feeling and continue smiling, praying, working. It is hard, people. It is so hard I cannot believe. I had to shortly tell this story to yet another colleague today, and although I felt tears coming, I was able to control myself: be proud of me, I haven’t cried for almost two days now.
So ok, I texted him back, but I am still convinced that I cannot see him for a while. My idea is to wait till he begins his phd, and keep in touch by texts (as long as he starts them), and maybe occasionally by email, when the right time comes. I suppose that eventually we will bump into each other, right? Especially considering that we go to the same church in Hove. So this Sunday I will be alone, and it feels ok, because I am not ready to see him yet, and I want to be settled with the new house, sign the contract, send the applications, work for a week and breath. Next Sunday then, the 23rd, will hopefully feel a better time to meet again.
I wish I could be with him now. I wish I could share his thoughts at the end of the day, and share my thoughts with him, like we used to do; I wish I could know about his doing these days, if he’s found a house, if if if. I hope this weekend with his family will help him, make him feel better. I know he misses his family a lot, and South Africa too, I wish I could help, but you can only do so much, he told me once. I hope he will come back with a clearer, calmer mind, and deep inside of me I hope that one day we will be together again. I know it’s crazy, but I am doing my best not to daydream. Actually, it isn’t that difficult sometime. If I keep my mind occupied like I have done all today, with lesson plans and going to look for a house, and discussing with parents and planning the weekend with church, packing, moving, library and all, then it’s not difficult. But then there are awful moments when all I wish is that my wonderful Ian is by my side, holding my hand, smiling with me while we walk, looking at the sea, breathing the air, stupefied by the beauty of being together and being so blessed.
God, please let me be strong and forget this pain, please let me be peaceful and accept this incomprehensible turn, please let me be good and love you with all my heart. Please stay by my side in this time of hurt and pain, and comfort me with the thought of your love, when darkness spreads in my heart.

The latest news

Thursday, 9th

A quick update on the developments:
So, first of all, as I’m writing I am waiting for Ian to call me…I received a text first thing this morning, with him asking me if he could call me sometime today. Lovely Ian. One month yesterday. Boy. I am excited at the thought of him calling me, and the cramps make me bend in two from pain. However. I cannot wait to see him again.
On the side of practical things, I have finally received an email for a room to rent near Falmer, and if by tonight I have no other news I will contact the woman and so the room problem is settled. Flight is booked too, I only need a job, but for that I already have some interesting feedback from places I have sent my application too, and am waiting for the deadlines of those applications to be called for the interview. So, all in all, I am positive and excited!
Next on the list (apart from settling the room thing properly, which should be done by tomorrow) is preparing the clothes to take away with me…I have started, and actually I have also almost finished, but I would really love to just take them out of the closet and be practical, like weigh them, calculate how much I can actually stuff in that case without overcoming the maximum weight allowed (damned Ryanair!).
Also, mum is going to pay for my contacts, which is cool, and if it’s not too expensive she’s prepared to pay for the new lenses of my old glasses, just in case; but I’m still thinking about it, so maybe it won’t be necessary. In any case, the next time we go shopping I will make sure to buy a dvd case too, which she will pay for, because I need one for the things I want to take with me when I leave (cannot live without dvd’s!). I am happy things are working out at last, and now that there are only 12 days to the departure I look around me and all I see is a messy desk I haven’t tidied yet (or actually I have, but then the mess, being alive, has crawled back again), a few books I need to finish (and considering that I wanted to return them tomorrow…), some more walks with friends, a few meetings with friends (seeing one tomorrow and then out for dinner with some others, seeing more next week, then the official girls’ night next week, and more and more…I really feel like a VIP!), running and running (the weather is good, i.e. it’s pouring with rain, which means it’s cool enough and I can run as much as I like), and then…packing at last, and getting to London, and catching the bus and going to Brighton, and…
I cannot think properly of when I am there, apart from practical things like getting to the house, or taking some time (a day or two maybe) to visit the city properly, and hopefully have some interviews settled soon, and I keep daydreaming of getting a good job, possibly at university, where I have applied for a few interesting positions (interesting because they are in the university, and it is an environment that makes me happy and confident, just to be there makes me feel good). Anyway. I am confident, as I said. It is a good feeling. And my wonderful Ian is going to call me in a short while, and I can’t wait to hear his voice again.

Thirty minutes later…
Just said goodbye to lovely Ian. A nice phone call. Both a bit embarrassed, talking of this and that; my eyes closed, listening to his voice, joking, laughing, updating. He tells me “lots of love”, and I repeat it, and he says “ti amo”, and I reply “thank you”…yes, I am that stupid. It feels strange and strong, that he tells me such an intense thing in my language, and I think of when I read it at the end of his letter, and the feeling that overwhelmed me straight away, unexplainable, unbelievable, coming to me in waves up to this very moment. We say goodbye, and I text him a minute later, saying “thank you ***ti amo***”, because he knows, but I’ve never told him. When we were in Brighton I thought about telling him, and of how early it would have sounded, and then he comes and sends me this letter which ends with those words. And he tells me now. When he learns that the room I have found is in Falmer he tells me that maybe then he will also look for some place in Falmer too, I tell him not to worry, then he offers to go look at it for me if I give him the details. It is beautiful, the way he wants to take care of me and look after me. It is sweet.
Yes, I do love him.



Saturday, 11th



More on everything again:
ok, I have found the room and it's not in Falmer but near London Road. Sounds good to me and cross your fingers, it must also be a nice room. And a quiet place.
I arrive in Brighton on the 21st and on the 22nd I have a job interview! Cool!
Ian is wonderful.
I have seen most of my friends now, will see them more next week, I have sunbathed a lot, run, started a good packing list, and bought some interesting books to guide me along the way. And I am all ready. I may even have found somebody who wants to buy my car, and how cool is that, since I REALLY need the money now...!
Ian is wonderful and I can't wait to see him again.


Bit repetitive, am I not? :-)

I just want to leave ASAP

A few days have passed, and here is the latest news on..everything, really.
1. I have just had an angry bitter talk with mother about my decision to leave and my reasons, and the need for me to stop being controlled and criticised for what is entirely in my hands, the way it should be. This is my life, and it’s about time I followed this stream of happiness and confidence in the future, although I am also aware that things will not be easy: I know I’m not leaving for Wonderland, you know? But they don’t seem to understand that, and as for accepting it…Father called me a stupid arrogant a few times in the past days, and finally today he said something about me not giving him any satisfaction, ever, in the past, so he doesn’t expect me to behave any different now. Great. Thanks, dad. Just what I need to hear to leave this damned place with a peaceful mind and a serene heart. Anyway. Flights before August 15th are too expensive, so I am still leaving on the 21st, and I hope that these last 16 days will be bearable. I’m trying to spend as much time as possible away from the kitchen, though, which is where major conflicts usually arise in my family. And one wonders about my issues with food, hu?
2. I have found out that flipping BA won’t take my credit card, so I actually have to go to a travel agency and book the flight there. Great. But at least they will know everything (hopefully), including the maximum weight allowed and stuff. I plan to take about 30 kg of stuff with me, and I’ll travel to Gatwick or Heathrow. (Update: I have booked with Ryanair; cheaper, and 15 kg will do. New packing list to prepare, now…)
3. Tomorrow I must: call the woman for the room; go to travel agency; go to scan centre and get a copy of my degree scanned and saved somewhere so that I can attach it to my application form (stupid uni website still not working, and 4 days have passed already…).
4. I have also found out that I have a lot less money than I thought I had: oh, brother. It means that once I’ve bought the tickets to go to Brighton I will have about enough money to pay for a month’s rent, not including the deposit. I must ask for a loan from parents, which is something I’d rather not do. But I cannot hope to sell the car quickly enough for me to leave with some money in my account, so the idea would be that I get some money from parents and when the car is sold they take their money back and I take the rest of it. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Action will be taken on Wednesday, which is my day off when I can do a few more things (Monday and Tuesday I am working here at home as a non-paid, non-volunteer carpet cleaner…), including seeing Library Friend. I am seeing all my friends these days, and it is good also because it is a good excuse to spend a lot of time outside, especially dinner time…Is it possible that I cannot feel comfortable to sit at the table with my own family?
5. So far all my friends support my choice, although they probably get it the wrong way, as in: I’m moving to Brighton because of Ian. People! It’s not exactly like that! But yes, Ian is a big reason for my decision in favour of Brighton vs. other cities, I confess. It’s only in the choice of the location, though, not in anything else. Anyway, support is good, and it makes me feel even more confident about my choice. My heart is full of hope, and this cannot be wrong either.
6. Ian is wonderful. This is no news, is it? He is so incredibly sweet and I miss him so much. So much it hurts. It hurts so much that I cannot breathe. We have been exchanging letter via email in the past few days, and I have really been able to tell him things about myself that nobody has ever known before. He is so incredible. He is so wonderful. Ok, my task is to remember that he’s not perfect either, and I know, I know…;-) Only, he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and I thank God every single moment of my day for giving me this chance to be happy. And I want him to be happy, I want to make him happy. We are a blessed couple, and these days apart are a good way to test our strength and feelings. And in a way I am happy, because I can see that we love each other, this thing is really special.
7. Last but not least, remember my decision to pursue my spiritual me, and find a space for my soul to breathe? Ian is the answer again. He is giving me hope, and showing me the way, and I am more confident. I look around me and I see things under a new light, and I feel light and good. My heart is opening. It is a new feeling and I am trying to understand it, but maybe I should just let it flow in me and live accordingly. And Ian is by my side. “Trusting we can be a source of encouragement and strength to each other for the future”. My wonderful Ian.

I will watch a movie now. No more internet for today, and tomorrow night more applications to be sent, and more things to write, some things to cross out of my list. Things will work out well, and I am confident; and thinking of Ian makes me happy, so can never wipe the smile off my face. Or off my soul. I am happy.

Last week in Brighton (and we're packed...)

Too many things!
And too many emotional moments I cannot really take in, I'm still overwhelmed.
People, somebody likes me. I mean, he doesn't simply say "I like you" and then walks away with somebody else, he says "I like you" and then wants to be with me! He reads in my mind and in my heart like nobody has ever done before, and it is strange and beautiful.
We have things to clear, and to find out about each other, that's for sure. But we have decided to take things slowly and work on this special thing together, properly. It feels good.
This is the last week of the course and we are so extremely busy: exams tomorrow and on Wednesday, tomorrow I have my last teaching practice (and so does he), then more revision and preparation of files for the moderation which will be held on Friday, our last day...
On Saturday I will catch a train at some impossible time of the morning (just booked it...it's at 5.30 am...) and go pick up my mum from the airport...to spend a few days in Salisbury, then back home to prepare my things and leave for Brighton where I intend to move, but you already know this.
Thing is, I need to do so many things before leaving: go to post-grad office for more information, ask about references, find someone who can write one for me (ex boss's wife is ready, and I want to ask my tutor here), decide for accomodation, find a job (desperately), and all this (well, maybe the job bit can be done later too, although I am already working on it) in four days...Pray for me, people, I need it. Although someone is already doing his part of prayers, and this I appreciate. He's a wonderful person, it takes my breath away when I actually stop and think of the wonders he's doing to me. I feel complete now, although a bit fogged because of all this messy time where we cannot think of anything but lesson plans and revisions and all that jazz. But once I'm at home-home, and I have time to think and reflect, I am sure we can start working on a lot of other things together, before meeting again in Brighton.
Anyway...My lesson plan is waiting...Thankfully tomorrow this time I'll be over and done with; mind you, I love teaching, it's really satisfactory, it makes me happy and fills me with energy. I just don't like teaching with a tutor looking at me and taking note of every word and movement I do, as if the destiny of the world depended on that. But it is good, I have learnt things, I have improved, in so many ways.
This has been one of the best months of my life.
Stay tuned for more, everybody, although I cannot really say when the next news will come...

Things are in motion

Things that I have done so far (and look: it's only 9.14! I've been here for almost 2 hours...):
- sent emails like mad...must keep the situation up to date, my friends are just so amazed at what is going on here...
- read emails like mad...my friends are very supportive and happy for me, and this makes me feel good. My mum is still (probably) trying to take it in, it is such an unexpected event (yeah, tell me about it!), but she understands I am happy, and she is ready to support too. Cool. All in all, everything is going fine.
- applied for TWO FANTASTIC JOBS RIGHT HERE, and people cross your fingers, my lucky star is working so hard these days! I have found a wonderful guy, like no one in the world, and I am already so blessed, but finding the job of my dreams? Am I ready for all this happiness?
- sent email asking for info on the admission to a MA in Film Studies here in Brighton, just to know a few things before I enroll. I can't wait. Things are just going so well, it's hard to believe.

...I should get on with my work, now. The course is halfway through, and there is still so much we have to work on.
Ian is worried I am rushing with my decision to move here. I keep thinking that I am moving here for him, yes, because this thing is so special and I can't just leave and go back to my boring, meaningless life. So he is THE reason I am going to stay. But being here, coming here has been the best thing to do, it's awaken my real me, the adventurous, free, strong me, the ME that will decide what's best and work hard to get it. So, the question I asked myself was: what do I want?
And the answer is: I want to study Film Studies and live in England! Which is the only place where I can study what I want and be happy about it (no interesting or useful stuff back home, that's for sure...), the place where there are a lot more chances to find a job I REALLY like and be generally content, not ranting, complaining, being depressed and on the verge of suicide like I was up to a few months ago. Ian is (as a classmate said) "the icing on the cake": the most special, wonderful, beautiful person I could meet, and I am so incredibly lucky I found him. I feel that my life can be complete, now, and I want to work for this thing to develop and be even more special.
So people, in case it is not clear, I AM HAPPY!

One week on Sunday

...Guys, I am so happy like I thought I would never be.
As I cannot write on the blog very often (too busy...this course is amazing) I am keeping an old-fashioned diary, and it is simply exploding with happiness...
Ian is such a wonderful person like I had never met before in my entire life...We have so many things in common, and our hearts and minds are so tuned in, so perfect. I love every moment I spend with him, and my only desire is to make him happy.
We have been talking about the future...and the news is that I am going to move to Brighton next month! I am over the moon!
We really want this thing to grow, he is so committed, he is so fantastic. I am so lucky I found him. So lucky. So unbelievably happy.
But I am also so busy now, and I'd better go...

And here we go!

Ok...(almost) all booked for Salisbury too, and we pray for good weather...
Now I've got to pack and then shower and then have something to eat and then leave...and pray some more for everything to go smooth...
Last night, summer fair at the band, the first of three nights of music and food and fun: I worked like mad and had a fantastic time, really. Drummer friend's group played for a couple of hours and then another group played, great.
I said goodbye to Guy (who looked for me to chat a bit before leaving); to Rambler friend who's desperately trying to finish his dissertation in time...; and to all the others. It's been a good evening and night but I am happy to leave and make the most of this month virtually by myself, only me, the course, books and my notebooks.
I'm not sure I will be able to post more during July because...well, because. So if you don't hear from me again, have a good time and come see me in Brighton!
(And a note to Rigmor: I will try to email you when I'm there, so we can try to meet after such a long time. And Charlotte, if you are reading, let me know about you too!)
Love, sunshine and hopes from your truly.

Words are flowing (back from Parma)

Just back from Parma, for a weekend with Chorus friend; the city was not as I expected, and I was very much disturbed by her neurotic housemate..However we had an enjoyable weekend, walking and walking and walking, and talking talking talking. We watched “Hero”, the first of the trilogy from Zhang Yimou (the second is “House of flying daggers”, beautiful, and the third one is just out, “The forbidden city”, and I can’t wait to watch it), and went to the opening night of the city poetry festival which featured a concert and some poems read by a great theatre actor and by an actress whom few people liked, I have to say: you could hear some annoyed low chatter every time she stood up to read. Anyway. The music was beautiful, and the cathedral was beautiful, and the night was very enjoyable, although we were very tired from all the walking.
Trophies of the weekend: two books (the new one from McEwan, how couldn’t I? and one from Joyce Carol Oates, since I was in the mood – I am re-reading her “Wonderland”); a good tan; a nice tiredness in my legs (but then again, I’m lying: we walked a lot and I was a bit tired, but I am used to walking a lot. In fact, I arrived at the station tonight and had to come home on foot, and it was no trouble, if only the air hadn’t been so hot and humid: welcome, summer); a lot of thoughts in my mind.
As a matter of fact, the trip from Parma to my county city, where I had to change for my hometown, was a complicated irresistible sequence of thoughts, visions, sudden epiphanies. Words are literally flooding over, and I feel them rushing out some unknown space in my mind, circling endlessly before my eyes, projected like the images of a movie.
I wanted to add a couple of trivial facts: one, I have received formal confirmation that I am accepted on the course in Brighton, therefore I will buy the ticket tomorrow, and start sorting things out before I leave (there is also a new job possibility which I would like to investigate, a one-year project organised by a university, and I may be the right person…cross your fingers, folks), in a list I have yet to prepare…Two, (ex) friend texted me last Saturday, to inform me that she had missed rehearsals again (as if I hadn’t noticed), asking me how things were going and all. It surprised me that she texted me so early in the morning (I saw that it was some time before 8), and that she texted at all. As if nothing happened. I wondered (and wonder now) if she understood, if she thought it normal, if. I don’t understand, and although I talked about it with Chorus friend for a real lot, I still don’t know how I should behave: if I live with her as if nothing happened, she may think that what she did was ok, and she will do it again; but if I behave and show the anger, which is not anger, really, it’s confusion, sudden lack of trust, disappointment, then she may not understand or underestimate my feelings, and how will she react then? Are we in some sort of competition for the attentions of Guy? Anyway. Three, Guy is wonderful, although I am still prone to pessimistic thoughts at times, especially after Saturday night when we never had a moment to be together and chat. The night went really well, I am glad about it: although the drive to the place was unbelievable (a steep slippery extra-narrow hill, right the size of my car, at the end of which my car was almost perpendicular and I couldn’t see what was going to come…I arrived and looked cool, and my friends, especially the male ones, congratulated on my smart guide, whereas the girls congratulated on my courage…I said it hadn’t been that bad, and it hadn’t, really, only the fact that the car in front of the car in front of me – we looked like some expedition in the jungle - had to stop because it was slipping down, and everybody on the other cars – including mine – had to jump out and go push it to help it start again, and then performed the same thing on the car in front, and then on mine, and the narrow road which made me feel somewhat uncomfortable, and the slippery hill…well, as I was talking casually at the beginning of the dinner I reached for some water and noticed my hands…shaking! Then on the way back, being one a.m., no lights whatsoever to show me the way…but at least then I knew what to expect!), I was saying, although the drive was amazing, the place was lovely, the food was fantastic, perfect, delicious, and we did have fun, took pictures, ended with going to the band to sing and play, and look at old pictures (my, have I changed! And luckily, I look a lot better now…), until I left them, being past two a.m., and I had planned to take a train at 10.30, and I wasn’t packed or anything, yet (in the end my parents drove me, having decided to spend the day somewhere different than the lake). But when I left, we had already said goodbye to Guy, who had excused himself at the end of the dinner, for the morning after he was leaving for a trekking trip as usual (lucky bastard, I want to go trekking too, and all my friends are too lazy to join me – it isn’t really safe to go trekking alone around here, in case you wonder why I don’t just go by myself). During the evening we were not sitting next to each other, being separated by Money friend, one I used to go out with (and the whole group of friends) two lives ago, in the famous summer of ’98; luckily Money friend is a heavy smoker and would go for a cigarette after each course, so Guy and I would find ourselves closer, and could chat, and laugh, with the other people. We were never alone, and the place was too small to allow anything of the kind. I texted him on Sunday night, I think, to ask him about his trip, and then again today, because I was in a bookshop yesterday, and I suddenly thought that he may like one of my favourite books, because he likes cinema like me, and this book is written in a cinematic style, so much that Cinema friend and I were playfully planning to adapt it into a screenplay: I am talking of the beautiful “The house of sleep” from Jonathan Coe. I told him about a book he may like, since he had told me that he’s stopped reading, now, and asked him what he liked reading. He replied saying that he likes Coe (!!!) and another one (Murakami), so I remembered that one evening on the bus, back from some concert with the band, we had talked about books, and probably also about Coe and the other one. I was so happy to read that, it was like our minds were connected (of all the people I know, there are only two who know and like Coe…).
It feels difficult at times; and then, I am going to leave in 11 days, and be away for a whole month or more, and then there would be summer holidays at the band, and if we don’t meet at the band I don’t know if I should ask him out sometime, during those three weeks off, provided that I am home and not still in England, that is. I don’t know. This Friday we have a concert, so I believe it will be almost impossible to have a minute with him, except while we carry and carry away all the chairs, stands, percussions and all. Then another week without contact, and then the night before I leave there’s the summer party, and we work all night waiting tables, although Friday is usually a quiet evening. I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t want to think about it. I am happy just lingering here, talking about him, thinking about everything.
Since I left my job I feel so well, and so full. I am never hungry, I feel I don’t need to eat, there are so many beautiful things to do instead, like writing all these words that are no longer clogging my mind senselessly, but waiting, queuing, just a little restless, a shy chattering noise, lining and waiting to be called out, to form rivers of meaning.
Plans of the days to come before I leave:
- book flight (haven’t yet..ops!) (Update: damn, ticket is so high up now! We'll wait and pray....)
- see Teacher friend (Wednesday night, can’t wait; she’s bought the new McEwan too, only hers is a signed copy…);
- register for the teaching list;
- apply for a couple of interesting projects (long story to be explained some other time);
- check packing list and do the necessary laundry to have everything, buy the rest (example: toothpaste for sensitive teeth, or I die);
- go see Gym friends (B&S guy is leaving for Dublin in a week, wish him good luck, he can barely say his name and I’m almost sure he will never understand a single word of what he will be told…);
- meet Gym friend (note to self: send her message for birthday…)
- top up phone (20 cents left…ops2!)
- tidy room properly and clean house;
- keep up with the running routine
- finish book (as I write, I think that this task could be accomplished tonight) (Update: liar! I'll finish it this afternoon, 50 pages left)
- beauty routine to complete (yes, I still am that vain…)
Last but not least, on the contrary, the most important thing to do, and I hope I’ll have enough time:
WRITE. All these words in my mind…I feel so well!

I am waiting...(and I am angry)

Woman from university told me she would send the pre-course task right after our interview; actually, she sent it 26 hours later. Of course in her email she asked me to send it back to her as soon as possible; I printed it and sent it on the following morning, asking her to let me know ASAP if it was ok so I was admitted and therefore I could book the flight, and also to let me know if I could change my choice of accomodation...I faxed the whole thing YESTERDAY at 2.30 English time.
Notice that now it's 2.30 again, 24 hours after I sent her.
DO YOU THINK SHE HAS REPLIED?
....................................
So I am still waiting and thinking of what I could do in case they decide they I am not "suitable", after all. And frankly, I don't feel like thinking about it, because I have so many things planned for THIS course and month in Brighton that the thought of starting from scratch makes me itchy. In case I am refused,though, the main plan is:
- go visit Chorus friend;
- go see teacher friend;
- find another course (there's one in Oxford that I was also interested in);
- take a little more time to register for the teachers' list instead of rushing to the office next week;

In the meantime, I have decided not to publish a comment I received about my previous post, and this is because I get easily angry (a side of me I would sometimes like to change, but then I think better) when I receive this sort of comments, especially when they come from somebody who is a close friend of mine. And who probably doesn't know me as well as I'd like to. See? I become bitter over a trivial thing! But still, there is, I believe, another culture gap here, and I can't be bothered to discuss it here.
I will forget about the comment, but just one thing: this is my diary. I write what I feel and think, mostly for me. I appreciate comments, but not when they touch a very private and personal sphere of my mind, especially to make fun of it and of the feelings I have.
I am angry now, and I am sorry to be. It must be also because I am nervous for this course-thing, and for the dinner tomorrow, and for the rehearsals tonight.
Case closed.

And the countdown has begun

So, I’ve, just passed an interview, THE interview to be admitted to the course in Brighton, and in a couple of days I’ll book the flight: I’m planning to leave on the 30th, however it seems more sensible to leave on Friday, the 29th, to have more time there to see the place, go and pay the rest of the fee, settle in properly. If I want to leave on Saturday it is only because I want to spend at least one night at the summer party of the band: last year I didn’t have fun, it wasn’t very funny; this year…I don’t know. I’d like to spend a nice night with my friends, waiting tables and singing and dancing, before saying goodbye and go home to spend a restless few hours before going to the airport.
Yes, I know, I am lying; no, I’m just hiding the truth. Let’s say it: I would leave on Saturday to spend the evening with Guy. As I said before, hopes are high. Even more, they are super, since on Saturday, this Saturday, we are going out for a special dinner with the people of the website of the band, and, you know…Chorus friend says that it would be a good occasion to clear things with him, and I know what she means…she means that I should “attack”. Me, I think that it would be a good idea to spend some time together, talking, having a laugh. Ok, ok, if something more happens I’ll be the first to scream of joy, but I said that I have high hopes, not that I believe in miracles…yet.
Anyway, let’s focus on practical, important things: here’s my list, in casual order:

- receive email from woman of university, complete task, fax it back to her
- wait for answer, then book flight; in the meantime, decide the best day to leave (note from the author: date decided. I will leave on the 29th, if Ryanair doesn’t play tricks and changes the fares…)
- make packing list (weather in Brighton for the month of July???)
- (this has little to do with the rest, but…I must pay the gym for June, and since I will leave earlier than the expiry date, I will go four times a week, starting from..this week! At first I thought I simply wouldn’t go, but I need moving, and I need seeing my friends and trainers there.)
- Make packing list (yes, I’ve said that before, but I really don’t know…laptop or not laptop?)
- Go to visit friend in Parma (I have become the Italian traveller…Trieste, now Parma, and in between the –imagined, or not- beginning of a romance…)

Ok, ok, there aren’t really many things to list. It was only to clear my mind. It makes me feel like the time when I left for Swansea, when they called me at the beginning of September and I left three weeks later…
I was also thinking of buying a one-way ticket, because I don’t know what I will do once the course is over. I need some time to think about it, but my mind is clogged by other thoughts. More specifically:
The thought of the dinner, Saturday;
The email from university woman which has not arrived yet;
The balance on my account, which I should check, and the money I should transfer on the credit card, not to mention the possibility of something as old-fashioned as traveller cheques to get some cash: English bank account is now closed and withdrawal means almost 3 pounds for the commission each time! Then again, if the weeks will be dedicated to intense study and little else, maybe I don’t need much money…and the course and the accommodation will be paid on the first day by credit card. Seems sorted, then!
Finally, I am furiously daydreaming, I can’t help it. I am doing it now. I realised that I was doing it while on the bike, instead of focusing on either the work-out or the packing list I thought I would mentally make up while cycling for twenty endless minutes at growing intensity…but no, my mind was on another planet, in some other dimension, forward to another time. And people, it felt great.
Hopes are high.

Plans for the summer and a heart problem

End of the day. A productive day too, after all. My days are so…productive, now: I work out, I read like mad (6 books in five weeks, ladies and gentlemen!), the house has become the kingdom of tidiness and cleanliness, all my lessons are prepared, and I am full of energy. I sleep eight hours, solidly, from midnight till 8, and there is not a day when I don’t make the most of my time.
And now I’m back to writing too. Five pages today, and five pages I am proud of, because they mark the beginning of the new era.

An update on the other news: I have applied for a course in Brighton, to obtain the certificate of Tesol (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages); I am interested in that course in particular because it includes some practice too, a sort of traineeship, which is definitely more interesting than just studying the theory of teaching. Now I have received an email to confirm my pre-enrolment, and then I will receive another to set a telephone interview, and if they see that I’m “suitable”, then I will be officially enrolled and I’ll have the right to pay the school a hell of a lot of money for a full-time course to begin on July, 2nd. People, are you crossing your fingers? I am determined and full of hopes about it, I know it is the right thing for me, I am convinced it will be useful, I am confident that I am “suitable”. I’ll prove that. So, if all goes well, July will see me in Brighton. And maybe then I’ll spend some more time there, once the course is over, maybe I’ll find some job to spend August there too. Gym friend has already decided that in that case she will come over and see me. I plan to meet a couple of friends I haven’t seen in a while, with a little luck.
Anyway. Other plans on the job side will see me go to the official office for schools, and register there: we have decided (Lady friend and I) that I have no missing exam, and that the guy at the Unions is getting something wrong (a problem with a word that means “exam” but also “two-semester exam”, and he is trying to make things more complicated because of that); so we will go to the right office and set things going for the next school year.

On the side of heart news, I am still a bit annoyed by what happened last Saturday, which I’m sure has little importance, but it bugs me that one of my closest friends must be such a hypocrite. You judge for yourself, here’s the story.
We were at the dinner after the concert with the band, and we were sitting in front of the guy I like, and next to his playing partner, who is always joking with my friend for some reason. Guy that I like shows some trick and we start joking and laughing, wine passes glass to glass (by the end of the evening our table had won against the other table for 12 bottles vs. 10 – I didn’t drink, mind you), you know how it goes. My friend says she needs to go to the loo; when she comes back she doesn’t sit between me and our friend, but in front of me, next to the Guy ; in order to understand how his trick works, she tries to make him teach her, and she takes his hands; this shocks me, because she knows that this is what I should be doing, if anyone. When we go back to the car she asks me if she can sit in the front seat – Guy is driving. I obviously say “no way, this is my place”, and I explain, and this is the truth, that I feel sick when I’m not driving; I would set her on fire, if I had the power I swear I would have already done so. We arrive at the band, and we stay there for a while; the other guys are outside smoking, and we are inside, because it’s a chilly night, after all. We have really no reason to be there, just killing time. She is sitting in front of us, who are standing at the kitchen counter, and she says something about this guy of the other band who looked like him, except for his hair, which were better than Guy’s; she comments on his hair style a bit more and when he mockingly shows more concern, she gets up and rushes to hug him.
This is when I decide that yes, I must learn some voodoo rite and set her on fire. Really.
Guy and his friend leave to go pick up another friend, so we say goodbye. Five minutes later I drive her home, and I go home in a really bad mood.
I am, honestly, speechless, and I wonder: should I tell her? You cannot be serious when you tell me you’re happy for me, because I feel better now, because I am interested in someone after such a long time I thought I had forgotten, you cannot tell me that you’re happy when I tell you that he may be interested too, asking for details, calling me even, to know more, you cannot do all this and then stick a knife in my back like that. I am really, really angry.
Then I think that if I tell her, maybe she will see how much I actually care for the guy, and what will happen then? Shop-a-holic friend said not to worry, it is her way of action with that section of the band (two guys only, really), but I had to reply that it is not! Because now she jokes with him more than before, and she gets physical, which so far she has only done (occasionally, mockingly, slightly) with the other one. What shall I think?
A mail from Chorus friend confirmed my malicious ideas, and it is not a good feeling. I am quite happy that on Friday this girl should not be here, we have a concert and he has to lend me a cd, and I would like to spend some minutes with him alone, or something. I don’t know. It bugs me to think that I cannot even trust my own friends. I mean, she was the only one who spent a whole afternoon with me on that awful Saturday night in November; the only one who knew about how I really felt, the only one who had time for me, when shop-a-holic friend had her friends to see (and now there’s a boyfriend: we’ve lost her completely, I’m afraid), when rambler friend is always away for university stuff and girlfriend stuff, when work-a-holic friend is…well, work-a-holic.
Damn.
Maybe I am taking this too seriously, but I’m annoyed, and I want to see her next movement with the guy, when we are both around. I am curious to see if it was only on the spur of the moment, being an exciting night of music and wine, and if it was, how can you trust someone who will not care about your feelings but will do whatever she feels like? And if it wasn’t because of that particular situation, what does it mean? That all of a sudden, because I am interested in him, SHE is interested too?
It reminds me of when we used to see shop-a-holic’s friends after rehearsals, and I had told her that one of the guys was quite cute, and we had spent a pleasant evening together: the week after she had sat next to him and talked to him for a whole hour, and we (all) had had no possibility to talk to him.
One good thing: we asked him what the hell she had been telling him for a whole hour, and he replied that he had no idea, after five minutes he had stopped listening. Ha!

About Prague (and more)

Ok, now a short account of my Czech weekend..and something more.

We leave for Prague on Thursday evening, worried because the forecast announced three days of rain and clouds, with the final day accompanied by a storm, nothing less! So my previous packing list is thrown away, and the new one sees me leave wearing long trousers and a shirt plus sweater, while in the luggage I have my jeans, one more shirt and a sweater; mum takes THREE sweaters, a pair of warm trousers, autumn shoes, and she wears a long-sleeve shirt with warm trousers.
We arrive some time after 10 pm, go straight to the hotel, and to bed; me, I am very nervous because I don’t know where we are exactly, and I hate being in a country where English is not the main language, so that I know that I will convert my real English to some sort of badly spoken English and I'll spend my time worrying that people will not understand me. Anyway.
The morning after we wake up and I open the window…to the sunniest day I have ever seen! We go out after breakfast and we get the tube to the Old Town, where we walk up and down the streets, on Charles’ bridge, in the Jewish districts, and we walk, we walk, we walk.
I should mention that at 10 we have booked a river cruise with complimentary drink, so the first walk of the morning after booking it is only to kill some time before we meet with our guide and go for the cruise. At 9.40 we rush to H&M in Na Prikope where I buy a pair of shorts to avoid death by suffocation…I spend the next three days wearing those same shorts, and although they are thigh-short, sometimes I even pull them upper…
So the first day passes without incidents, we walk a real lot and see most of what has to be seen, excluding the synagogues, which I would have liked to visit, but mum couldn’t be bothered. Never mind. At 9 pm we have reserved a whole hour at the hotel’s fitness centre, which is actually a small room with a treadmill and a stretching area, a sauna and..the Jacuzzi. While we walk back to the hotel, I see something on the sidewalk, which looks like the corner of a 100-crown note, so I pick it up. Mum starts saying “what are you doing, put it down!” (doesn't this sound like she's talking to a baby rather than to her 30-year old daughter...), but I say “it’s money!”, and she shuts up at once, and hides the bunch of notes in her bag. In the hotel we count them, a fountain of notes springing from the envelope: 4.300 crowns, about 200 euros! When we tell dad, once at home, he links this lucky incident to the fact that in the morning, like all the tourists on Charles’ Bridge, we touched and took a picture of the statue of Saint John, which must be touched to have good luck…and we did have good luck! Blimey, if I had thought of that I would have touched it every day for the rest of our weekend! And maybe wished for…
Anyway, the evening is spent in the Jacuzzi, to rest our poor tired feet and marvel at my luck. We don’t go out, we never do, because we are evening persons, we like to wake up early and make the most of the day.
So the morning after, while half the tourists in Prague are still sleeping, we are crossing Charles’ bridge heading for the Little Town, where we catch the bus for the Castle. And there we spend the next four and a half hours; I remembered it was a beautiful place, but not this beautiful. Must be because ten years ago it was cold and snowy and I was very tired because my classmates had partied all night in the hotel’s corridors... (I have always been a morning person, unfortunately for my teenage..).
In the afternoon we go shopping, or at least we try, because mum is craving for a pair of light summer shoes…but shoes in Prague are as expensive as in Italy, so we decide not to get any..after walking into five different shops!
We are back in the Jacuzzi at 5 pm, and after that we go back to the Old Town because we have the tickets for a puppet show, Mozart’s "Don Giovanni". I’d better not comment on that, but put it this way: Mozart was a fun man, so he would have liked it; and the show has been on for more than ten years, and the puppeteers were actually good.
On Sunday we have booked a trip to Karlstejn Castle, so off we go, and we spend about four hours altogether there, visiting the castle I had already visited ten years ago, which is actually beautiful. When we are back in town we go back to the Little Town, catch the funicular and go above the castle, to a tower made by the same Eiffel guy of the Paris tower, only a smaller version. We climb it, admire the marvellous landscape of Prague, we get down, we go to the mirror maze, which is something that has always fascinated me, and then back in town, where we walk and walk and walk.
Our night is concluded by yet another round of Jacuzzi, and the packing of luggage, and the planning of the last day, which is taken up by a trip to Hutna Kora, some 70 km east from Prague. We see the ossuary (unbelievable! I’ll try to put some pictures next time, the whole “chapel” is decorated by bones of more than 40.000 corpses! Macabre but ingenious, I’ll admit), walk around the lovely town, stop for a traditional lunch (soup, goulash, dessert, a pint and the final liqueur), and then we end with a visit to the cathedral. We are brought back in town, and we rush to the tube, then to the bus, then to our terminal, then to our check-in, and then we relax and spend the last crowns on a shirt for Brother Genius (who left for Valencia this morning, where a friend of his is getting married on Saturday), a horrible sandwich for me, and then coffee and muffin on the plane.

We get home and the temperature is..low! 17 degrees, and rain! And I am wearing my shorts and shirt, thinking that I would be back to another hot place like it was in Prague…

Today I spent the day in the most normal way, giving lessons, being tortured for two hours by the S&S guy, and looking at things to do for the summer, because I’ve been thinking that spending a couple of months working in the UK wouldn’t be a bad idea; so I found a few interesting posts where I’ll apply tomorrow, and at the same time I thought about getting the certification of TESOL, for teaching English to non-english speakers. And that is what I plan to do for the next hour, reading the files I’ve saved and think practically about this idea; I’ve got some money saved, so I can use it for something useful, right? And while I’m there to study I can find some part-time job, just to pay for the accommodation, nothing much.

I sent a message to the guy I’ve talked of in one of my last posts, saying that I was looking for a job in England for the summer, and he replied instantly saying that it was a good thing, so that then “they” could come and see me. I can’t wait to see him on Friday, and mostly on Saturday, when we have a concert and then a dinner with the band and our hosting band, and..well, these are the best occasions to start things, I believe. We’ll see what happens, ok?
Ok, now I have to work a little, then, so that tomorrow I’ll have clearer ideas on what to do.
Updates to come soon.

The Transformation Game

Yesterday afternoon was all taken up by “The Transformation Game”, some sort of New Age game that my shrink thought would be useful in my therapy. I confess that I wasn’t thrilled at the thought of spending a whole afternoon there, with all the things I should have done. But I was also intrigued. And this is how it went.
(A-hem…Mind you, it’s quite difficult to explain all the rules).
I was playing with this other guy, who should have been some sort of mirror (and I for him), and first of all we were given our unconsciousness in an envelope, which contained a certain number of obstacles, of resources, and of angels, characteristics we own but (of course) we are not aware of.
The first angel drawn became a sort of guiding quality along the way. Mine is faith, as in Trust.
But first we must say what our intention is for the game, as in, what we aim to: me, I have this ambitious goal, to find again the joy of living. It takes a while to understand that it is what I want, hidden behind the need to find a job that I like, or a boyfriend, or a better body, or or or. But this is what I must and want to find: my vanished joy of living.
So, we position our little stones (mine blue, his green) in the main source from where we have to be born when we are ready. I am first with the dice and I am born straight away: so I am given this large card which represents my physical and material me; everything I do and everything is gain now (obstacles and all) must be considered in the light of my material me. I gain a lot of consciousness, by means of more little cards I draw along the game: what I gain is the idea of me that I already have, but which I have to make clear to myself, and these are my new consciousnesses:
- liveliness
- dance (dance? Me? Then I think about the summer party at the band, when I used to dance with friends, even though we cannot dance, and then I think about country dance and group dances, like the Macarena, which I used to dance too for fun during the Great Event of the Year)
- hug (because I love hugging people, and I restrain so often now)
- abundance (of feelings, I thought, and of things, on the material side, because I have lots of things. Shrink makes me focus on the fact that I always say “I have” rather than “I am”. This will come out later too)
- adventure (because I used to be ad adventurous girl, didn’t I? Pack and go!)
- style (because, no matter what, I have my style, and I had lost that when I was feeling so bad at work, when even my hair, of which I am so proud of, would be neglected in favour of a “barely brushed” look.
- Beauty. Now, would you believe it? But I knew. Deep under, I know I am beautiful, and it is not a matter of boasting, it is somehow like a song (unfortunately it’s Christina Aguilera): I am beautiful, in my own way, and I know it. Only, I suppose that by pretending to think that I am not, I can find a reason for not proposing myself, for not trying to be with people, for not saying that I love people. Because I am so sure that I will hear a “no” in reply, I don’t even start and I blame it on my not being beautiful. Let’s proceed.

Obstacles along the way: my ego is so fragile that a single wrong word makes me close and hide to the world. I put the card on the column of the problems to solve: if I don’t solve this, I won’t pass to the next level of myself. But I have a resource in my unconscious, and the resource is: to change my credo and accelerate the change; and the, to forgive. This is when I get a bit emotional, as we perform a sort of stand-up session (much like a club of anonymous alcoholics), and I have to read my card which goes like this:
I forgive the others; I forgive myself; I forgive my past experiences. I am free.

And I win more consciousnesses, which I don’t remember now. All in all, I have gained 10, when I needed only 6, but I am still on my physical level. And this is when I win what I needed, card of “help” for the other player(s), so I help the others and I help myself through it. The other guy can so get rid of his tears (obstacles) and I can pass to my emotional level.
It is the quickest level I play, because first of all I exchange two of my material consciousnesses for an emotional one, which is, guess what, happiness. I knew I had it. It’s deep down, you know. There is pain and bad memories and chains I have put myself around my wrists and legs, not to move, to feel always this bad and brood over more pain and nostalgia, to look back. But it’s there, here it is on my big card.

The next move is the transformation: we both perform it, and we pass to the mental level. I gain three consciousnesses, my exuberance, the power to visualize (see? All my daydreaming means something!) and…telepathy. I’m sorry, I want to believe and yet I find it hard. But still, it’s interesting.
Now, I have finished all my angels in the physical level (simplicity and peace), I have solved all my obstacles (in the physical level too), and I have one resource left. This resource is interesting, because it says that my personality irradiates trust. So, I am back to the beginning. And my unconscious is empty, I finish the game.
The other guy is not done yet, and I am allowed to play one more round to help him finish too. And guess what, I end on the “help” card, that lets him complete his game by extracting the last angel from his unconscious, and we can draw the last conclusions on the game and what we have found out of ourselves.

For me, it all revolves around the idea I have of myself, built around the fear of being rejected, which paralyses me. The key words are “I don’t have enough”, and the key idea to work on in order to solve it is “trust”. For of all, trust of myself, because I thought that I should gain more confidence and open myself to the world, but apparently first of all I have to open myself to…myself. Because I have to accept myself before being accepted. Or believing that people accept me, for what matters, because people already accept me, only I don’t realise it.
And oh, one more thing: I have to hug people more often. And tell them that I like them, if I do.

A very interesting game, and it showed things I knew already, while it cleared some ideas I had before, and again, I had forgotten or hidden.
So now it’s time to work.

Still feeling well (fingers crossed)

Boy, I feel so well! Ok, I should not use any exclamation mark, I know, lest I regret it in the future, and scold myself for being so enthusiastic over the recent news and good feelings I am feeling. But even though outside a storm is breaking, like last night (weird season), I see good times ahead.
I woke up early this morning, and at 8 o’clock I had my first lesson of the week with Blondie from the gym, where for an hour and a half we read and translated an article, which tomorrow we will finish, analyse for grammatical stuff, and discuss for the sake of oral work. When he left I got changed and left for the morning errands, which included the photo shop for an id picture of my smiling face to be put in the large envelope I then sent from the post office, and which contains my cv, double printed, for a tricky idea I had (see later); a photocopy of my id, because you never know they may want it; and a letter for my friend in Trieste who is going to receive it and bring it to the bookshop, and say that I’ve gone back to my hometown for a couple of days, which is why she is delivering my cv and I am not; the cv will see my current address as…hers, so that they will think that I actually live in Trieste, and will not restrain from calling me for an interview if they think I am ok for them, which they would (not call me, I mean) if they saw my address as being here, five hours away from them. This thing bothers me: I remember applying or calling for jobs half an hour away from my home town, and hearing people say “well, don’t you think it’s quite far from where you live?”…PEOPLE!!!! I’VE MOVED TO WALES TO WORK AND I COULD DEFINITELY NOT COMMUTE EVERY DAY OR WEEKEND, YOU KNOW??? What do you think half an hour is to me, who’s spent a whole year abroad, and coming back home only three times? Boy…the Italian way of thinking…they want you to be flexible but are not flexible themselves…
Anyway, this will be my little trick to get the job I want. I feel well and hopeful even though something in the back of my mind tells me I shouldn’t waste my time hoping.
The afternoon activities include: tidying up the huge mess I have upstairs; teach from 4.30 to 6 (B&S guy); work out right after, for a couple of hours; once home, finish the book I started on the train to Trieste on Saturday (and continued on the way back, when I did nothing but read for four hours…). Lesson for tomorrow morning is ready, and before that I will have time to prepare the one for the afternoon too, just a couple of notes. And there will be plenty of time to run, do a little cleaning around the house, and read again. Not bad, hu?