Because writing is remembering

Bless long weekends, first of all.

And then, a summary of the past week: from sweet texts to a complicated Wednesday evening that gave me frightening dreams and saw me in tears the morning after, at school, hugged by Tall Teacher and comforted by the words of SA Teacher. And feeling almost angry, when I received his two texts, during the morning, and not feeling like replying, yet, and feeling so silly for feeling so, and then texting, and the unexpected call that followed, and meeting at the bus stop, with a long, squeezing hug as, no words needed, he took his earphones to make me listen to music as he held me tight.
And going for a walk in the fields, talking, talking, talking, and hugging and squeezing my hand, looking at the sunset, at the sea, far and shiny, and planning an evening out, for dinner, on Friday.

Friday night, dressed smart, sitting at the sushi place by the library, eating and chatting and laughing, and then sharing a dessert in an Italian coffee shop, before going home, and spending hours that go like minutes, sharing cuddles on the sofa, the silence around us.

Saturday, an afternoon trip to Rottingdean, and its simple beauty, the church, the windmill, the houses, talking and chatting, as we always do, we always have so much to talk about, even in front of a delicious lunch or cream tea, before a walk by the sea, throwing stones in the waves, and running up the beach to go and catch the bus.

Sunday, we have a christening at the Chapel, and we share some cuddles before the ceremony, which is followed by a delicious lunch; at the peace, as the custom is with this priest, we have to ask someone a question, which is about our plans for the bank holiday, and I happen to have to talk to..him!, so I ask him, and he replies "it depends on my significant other".
When we leave the sun is shining, and the grass looks an attractive place to lie on for a while, cuddling and laughing, before going to his place. "I am really lucky", he says again, adding how of course he doesn't believe in luck, smiling, his beautiful smile, we are so blessed. He corrects himself, and I join him in saying "I am very grateful".
We walk to his place, where we relax, and relax, and sleep, and as he sleeps I caress his head, his face, listening to his breathing, as he holds my hand. We fall asleep together, "I like your head on my arm", we wake up to the sound of rain, outside, and listen in silence, before preparing tea, with biscuits and fruit, and then walking me home, talking and talking and talking. He tries to pick me up, joking, and I say no, you can't, don't. He laughs, as I point my feet to the floor to prevent any picking up.

Today, Monday, day off, it's sunny and hot, and I spend my morning reading in the sun, before opening the door and welcoming him in, preparing lunch, opening a bottle of nice white wine, and eating together, him moving closer to me, more cuddles before we leave for the beach to sunbathe and play. He sits behind me, hugging me, we swap position, we lie and play, he looks at me as I have my eyes closed while sunbathing, and I turn, twice, to catch him while he's looking, "how do you do that?", he says laughing, and when the suns starts hiding behind some clouds we decide to leave. "I want to prove a point", he says, and picks me up, a frightened, shocked me, "put me down, put me down!", I say, and as soon as I touch the floor again I pick him up too, three times, "che scemo", and he laughs and laughs as we walk to the bus stop to go back home for coffee. On the bus I thank him, "what for?", "for all the nice things you do. You make me really, really happy"; and then a power nap for him from the centre to Moulsecoomb, leaning on me, and as soon as we get off the bus, here's a kiss and a big hug for me, "thanks for what you said on the bus: it made me feel good".

After coffee and more cuddles, caressing my hair, kissing my neck ("I like kissing your neck"), it's time to go. We joke some more, never wanting to leave. Now, I have just received his goodnight text. Will meet on Wednesday evening, probably, and sharing texts on the way.

We are so blessed. And grateful.

Yes, we are.

A walk in the country - part two

Shoreham, October 20th.

A very pleasant day, a lovely walk in the country, nice people to chat to, tea, a sandwich, more tea, and fresh autumn air.

A lovely day.

Sunday sleepy Sunday

End of a week..beginning of a week.
It feels both good and bad.
It would feel a lot better if I could have got some decent sleep, but this is a quick account of what happened last night in bevendean crescent…
First of all, Polish housemate comes home from work, and as it is in her custom, she starts banging cupboards to prepare some food, before running up the stairs, slamming the bathroom door and take a shower; after that, she slams the door open, slams it closed, and goes to her room, which happens to be next to mine, and bangs it closed. She then drops a glass, so she runs out of the room to the bathroom, and I will not talk of the next ten minutes…
The night proceeds uneventfully…
Then, suddenly, somebody starts knocking on the door. Not once. Not twice. He bangs on the doors, drums on the window, knocks more violently on the door, for what happens to be an eternity, at least judging from my beating heart. Polish housemate gets up, but doesn’t intervene.
Then the brainless idiot (from now on he will simply be B.I.) starts calling for silent housemate. Not once. Not twice. He bangs on the door and shouts her name. shame that silent housemate’s room is on the other side of the house…Frightened, fogged Peggy opens the window and says that silent housemate is not there. “Really?”, says puzzled B.I. And that’s when silent housemate runs downs the stairs, opens the doors, and leads the way to her room heavily swearing at B.I. for the next half hour. Peggy goes back to sleep.
It’s almost light outside when Polish housemate gets up and starts preparing to go out. she runs down the stairs, bangs every cupboard in the kitchen to make some breakfast, slams the dishes in the sink, runs back upstairs to get ready in the bathroom, slams more doors to go from the bathroom to the bedroom and back a few times, then she runs downstairs, slams open the door, slams closed the door…then slams it open again, runs upstairs and slams open her door, bangs it closed, rushes downstairs, slams open, slams closed. Silence returns.
It’s now past seven o’clock, and Peggy lies in her bed, sleepless. This is the time I usually walk silently out of the door, heading for my work, after a silent breakfast, a silent-as-possible preparation in the bathroom (in spite of my love for morning showers I think that it’s not nice to wake housemates up, so I shower in the evening), a silent tidy-up of the bedroom, whose door is opened and closed most carefully. So, it’s seven o’clock on a crisp, clean morning, and Peggy decides to get up, and after preparing she walks to church, where she almost falls asleep every time the priest allows to sit. She then walks to Western road, buys a duvet cover, a vegetable curry for lunch, and catches the bus, where her patience after a sleepless night is tried all the way to her stop, by a couple of brainless idiots sitting behind her (this city is apparently packed with idiots, and they usually appear after a sleepless night or a hard day), by a lovely dog who is very interested in my hands and in my bedsheets, by a guy shouting and laughing on the phone, by slow traffic lights…People, my patience is really improving, after being tested so much.
Peggy gets home, has a delicious lunch, and heads for the bed, Agatha Christie…The afternoon, a lovely, sunny, crisp afternoon, is spent sleeping, and working on internet before going to Ian’s house for some pasta and a chat.
Once home, noisy housemate on drugs is cooking toad-in-the-hole, and she asks me if I have seen a jar of gravy anywhere. “Ehm, no, I don’t think so”, I say, and I expect to see my nose growing like Pinocchio’s…because two weeks ago, exasperated by the mess in the kitchen, I started cleaning around, randomly, and the three shelves packed with dusty sticky jars were promptly thrown in the bin, no second thoughts…among which, I remember well, a half-full jar of Bisto…Oops.
Oh, well.

Have a good week, everybody.

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.

Another countdown and so many thoughts

I am writing. I am writing. I am writing.
I know I am repeating myself, but I can’t avoid it. It feels so good. I am reading, and I am writing.
I am also going to leave in five days, all planned and ready, and I have too many thoughts on my mind, to be honest: friends who want to see me before I leave, they make me feel as if I were leaving for another exchange year like Hull 2000, the teachers’ list, a shopping-errands trip to Bergamo with Lady friend, more work in the house to leave it nice and tidy for mum.
I spent three days at home with father only, she was on holiday with her office: I ran for hours, read, slept (it is so hot now), gone for a long walk in the woods with dad, up to 1.300 m above sea level, all Sunday afternoon. I have also gone to rehearsals, as my previous post says, and I’ve been cultivating strange fleeting thoughts since then. Yesterday, after the walk, after the necessary shower, and during a tired dinner, I texted Guy, as it’s become the habit of my Sundays, to know where he’s been, being a mountain person like me (I’d like to go trekking with him since none of my friends goes, but…), so I told him where I had been and enquired on his day. A laconic answer on the place he went, and a wish of a good week. I hate short texts, by the way. I write a lot, and my texts are always extra long and superkind, because I cannot send the tone of my voice as I’m saying something, so I need smileys and special expressions to show that I am being a) nice; b) funny; c) joking; d) ironic; and so on. Once again, written communication is not easy.
Anyway.
A thought in my mind is going on and on. Another thought that has been brought back to the surface after being buried for so long during my dark time.
A degree in psychology, how about that? I can work and study at home, there’s no need to attend the lessons in the university I found (which is not as good as the oldest faculty of psychology of the nation, which anyway would be some three hours away by train and requires 100% attendance, meaning that working students are not allowed…). I have downloaded information and am seriously thinking about it. I also intend to find more alternatives to that university, like some place else, which could give me the same interesting subjects and conditions. I am spending too much time on internet but it is necessary that things are carefully studied and thought. I haven’t told my parents about it, yet, because first of all I need to set other things clear and running.
Plans of these days before leaving:

- see Bride friend tonight and Gym friend tomorrow
- see if Library friend wants to meet me for another tea-and-chat
- go to uni town with Lady friend
- register to teachers’ list
- go help for the band summer fair, starting this coming Friday

Not much to do, after all, which is giving me a lot of time to write. I usually write about an hour a day, which is about two pages, and it isn’t difficult, words are happy and tidy when they line on the page. I’ve never felt this good.

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!

High hopes and spirituality

Hopes are high. And I feel well.
We had to play, this morning, for the arrival of a new priest and the Corpus Domini: a long march in the sun, up to the church, song after song. Then we split and went back to our cars.
Before starting, though, a long time spent chatting casually: Chorus friend and I talked for a while about the “problem”, and I noticed that when the girl, should I say my ex-friend, I don’t know yet, anyway, I noticed that she arrived and not looked at me, and sat talking with shop-a-holic friend, and so I don’t know what to think. Not that I cared, honestly: my only concern was whether she would try to meet, talk, touch Guy again, and what she actually thinks about it. Lots of stories she told me, I know, have never been true, not a single word, yet I’ve always accepted them, but her behaviour was unacceptable and unforgivable: I told Chorus friend that I don’t know what to think, and I thought of the paradox, that if every time I proclaim to have a feeling for somebody she goes after him, what would happen next time, say that I tell her that I am falling for a girl, would she go for that and try to…? Ridiculous. Anyway.
On the way back from the church, Guy came next to me with his playing partner and told me something about his job, so we started to talk: playing partner was left behind, when I turned they were all quite far from us, and we were chatting casually of this and that, and I was happy. So so happy.
When we arrived at the band playing partner parked and invited us for (a very late) breakfast, so we all went to a coffee shop; by “we” I mean my baby friend and her artist cousin, Chorus friend, playing partner and Guy. We spent a whole, a whole, a whole hour talking and laughing, drinking coffee and fruit juice: my mind went back to a few years ago when it was normal for us to do these things, back to when we were friends, and we used to go for coffee while waiting for the mass to be over and go back to play. In winter the waiters of any coffee shop would bring cups of hot chocolate and cappuccino, trays loaded with brioches, jars of milk, fruit juices, pots of tea, and there we were, all around the tables, our instruments on the floor or on separate tables, and us there, chatting, laughing, warming up by small sips and long laughters. It still happens now, although we are not the same people, somehow. But it’s good.
Back at the table with them, I felt so happy: the morning was hot and sunny, there were people on the streets and the sweet smell of cooking, midday approaching, and cold drinks on our table.
I was happy, simply happy, because he had come next to me, he had looked for me, to talk, just talk, about his job, about his plans for the summer, about the plants he grows at home (gardening man!) and we had joked, we had laughed.
I still dream of holding his hand, while we are walking side by side.
A couple of my friends, who have been informed of this “thing” going on, are surprised and happy for me, say that we would be a good couple, and they’ve never said anything like this before. Future-teacher friend told me how happy I look now, how full of hopes and energy, how strong I look again; they all encourage me to continue, pursue this crazy idea of being with Guy, and although fear paralyses me at times – I can’t look at him, afraid he would see too much –, I also believe that these positive signs he is sending are good news for me: suddenly we are more than two playing friends, suddenly he comes to say hello and talk, suddenly he looks for me and texts me, so who knows, maybe soon we will be more than just friends.
I am not being carried away completely, ok? I am just idling daydreaming about him. It’s Sunday, allow me!

Other things I am thinking of: how I hope that the woman from the language institute emails me and tells me when the interview is (no news yet); how I am determined to go to England all the same, and I am looking for alternative courses to attend in case that interview doesn’t end well; how I am positive, anyway, that the interview will be ok and I will leave in a couple of weeks; how much I will enjoy spending these two weeks moving the books downstairs and putting them tidily on the shelves, before going to some lesson, before going to the gym, before studying my bassoon; talking of which, I am also thinking how much I like playing it, no matter how hard it is – small hands mean more trouble, but hey – and how well I can already play it, even though it will require a lot more practice than with my sax, if only because I have to read on a different key (and how difficult is it, people, when you’ve spent 13 years of your life reading in G? The answer: A LOT). Also, how lovely it will be to spend some more time with Guy, next Friday, just chatting and maybe planning a walk somewhere.
Finally, I am thinking of moving and finding a place to live by myself, and this means that these two weeks must also be dedicated to the preparation of covering letters to schools in the hope that some of them will want to hire me, and I will have the funds to move and live a “healthier” life.

I’d better go and play my bassoon, now: I’ve been taught more positions for the complete scale (not all of it but most) and I need to revise right away or I’ll lose them!

One more thing: one thing my shrink made me think of is spirituality: I seem to have lost my spiritual me. Not that I’ve ever had one, I think. When I was at high school I was into New Age thinking, but never completely: the side of meditation, and a few other things were somehow refused by my squared mind; like the side of my mental me, which I found during the Transformation Game, the side of telepathy, which somehow I want to believe but I resist to the thought. It makes me feel a fool to believe it, and at the same time I feel something. It’s like religion: I have always envied the strength and passion of the real believers, their utter Faith. Years of religion taught at school, and knowing the mass by heart haven’t given me much, to be true: I should say that God is not speaking to me, than, or that my heart is not listening to Him, somebody could say. Or maybe this is not the God I need. This is complicated, I should stop here.
Anyway, I think it’s time to take some time to investigate on my spiritual me, and with more intensity than I used to: step by step, and writing is the first giant step I usually take when I begin an investigation inside my soul. I’m not really going back to New Age or stuff like that, but…I’ll work on it. I want to take my time for that too.

Pictures of Trieste (I made it at last)

Trieste on our last day seen from the "beach" - if by "beach" you accept a large stretch of sidewalk full of bodies lying in the sun, and hidden from the road by a thick set of bushes...

Baby friend and an evil cat (yes, I know it looks like a nice sweet cat right now...but after the picture was taken, the mask of kitty-kitty fell and...EVIL CAT appeared!)

Chorus friend and me on our last day in the White City: now, aren't we beautiful???

Nice, aren't they?

I'm back

Just a few lines to update.

Adjectives for Prague: beautiful,sunny, extremely hot (had to run and buy shorts on the first day, seen as the forecast was for rain and cold and I only had long trousers), white, crowded, noisy, easy, big.

Things not to do again: think that my Visa electron is accepted everywhere, because, matter of fact, in Prague IT IS NOT.

Things to do today: prepare for the afternoon lesson; think about a summer job (right now); try to upload the Trieste pixies one more time; go to gym; pick cherries from our tree; write full account of our journey to Prague so next time I am on Blogger I can post it; finish book; tidy mess in room; bring films to photo shop; take back photos once developed; buy album for photos; start tidying photos.

My, there are still so many things I need and want to do. Come on, let's go!

Happy chaos

Well, so…while listening to some music that will later be uploaded on my brand new mp3 player (!!!), I need to recap a bit of what’s happened lately. I guess it will come by instalments, because there are thoughts and facts and feelings, and all together is definitely too much, all at once. Plus, I will use it as an excuse for my laziness, it’s late and I’ve got lots of things to do tomorrow…we are leaving for Prague in three days, and I don’t even know how much money we should put on my credit card before we leave…

It’s been an incredible time, and yet it has all been so ordinary…I have been teaching and teaching, working out, going by bike, as said before I’ve been to the White City (for nothing, really…), and I have received my final payslip with an enormous amount of money for the end of my work there…I’ve never seen all those money together, and probably will not see it again for a long time..but I intend to make good use of what I have now, and sort my life properly.
So, first of all about the meeting with my shrink today: a very positive time. I am living this good period, this sunlight, this days filled of lessons and home, and bike and errands, and concrete plans, and peaceful thoughts on where to lead my life. And the shrink got it all. The Transformation Game did nothing but take out of me things I already had, already knew, Socrates-like. It gave me more consciousness on my resources and my possibilities, it filled me with hope and practical advice on myself, on my life. And as I said today, I am a warrior. I have always been. In the past months I have lost myself so bad that I had changed inside, forgetting what it was like to be me. Of course I have changed a lot during the years, but my me, the one that is now writing these lines, is closer to what I used to be: optimistic, loud, energetic, messy. My light is back.
Practical thoughts that have accompanied me along this short yet long way: most of my friends (my same age or slightly younger) have taken ages to graduate, some of them finished three or even four years after me. While they virtually wasted their time by just living in their uni cities, studying and doing little more, I graduated and travelled, I taught in Wales, I worked in England, I did some four jobs before landing here, I read and thought, I studied and learnt more about the world, and myself, and who I want to be, and what I like and what I would like to know more, and the people around me.
I am now back to reading, the Pleasure of pleasures, I am back to singing (I had almost forgotten how to sing, folks, how sad to think), I am nearly back to writing (my personal therapy to maintain sanity, and another Pleasure of pleasures) when time will allow (i.e., after Prague), and I am back to loving.
So, fact number two which shrink wanted to see was if on that side I had made any step forward, seen as on the other sides there have been improvements: I have a clearer idea of what I want to do (teach), a half idea of how to do it (teaching courses, plus I can apply to public schools and evening schools), and moving, leaving home is not a problem anymore, actually I’m finally back to that feeling of “must-go-and-get-free”, which I was feeling before getting trapped into the car-debt and what followed. Before becoming someone that was not me. Now, as I mentioned before, I may be on the way to look for someone to love, and may have found him already: we are exchanging texts, and we have nearly “risked” to spend a whole day together at the BookFair, last Sunday. He is kind and sweet, and I have thought of him often, these days. When I am back from Prague I will see that we meet more often. One thing I have promised to myself (and to the shrink) is that I am not going to hide anymore.
The theme of hiding was recurrent during all my life, and it doesn’t need a specialist that I hide to protect myself from the fear of being refused or hurt. That it depends on bad experiences of my past or what, it is of no importance, now. It must not be of any importance anymore. I have a couple of mantra that I should repeat over and over, to convince myself of something that deep inside I already know.
But this is material for instalment number two. And I must really post all this mess before I leave!!!


…so, to continue…
Apparently I cannot really apply to teach for state schools because I only have half exam when a whole one is needed…which makes me wonder…how did Mama friend get into the list, sees as she has the same exams I have???
Anyway…the solution is already here, though: part one, we (Unions’ guy and I) apply all the same by presenting only the list of exams, and the schools will be in charge of investigating to see if it’s a one-semester or one year-exam…Part two, I enrol for a single course at uni and get the missing semester (or missing exam, I have a few options) while waiting, and then I register and try to pass the exam for the teaching school.
Pragmatically, I will find the missing info on the teaching school (I already have some, it’s just slightly confusing..but that’s just the way Italy is, sadly..), then I will print the list of my uni exams, and find the info on single courses at uni, finally I will present my application in the schools.
In the meantime, I already have a long list of public schools that can do what they like and that is where I will start from, by sending my cv, as soon as I am back from Prague. Tomorrow I will find more schools (the list so far includes schools from five counties, I need a couple more to enlarge the field of possibilities). Also, when I am back from Prague I will see teacher friend to give her my cv, because maybe she can help me somehow in a public school of our valley.
Little by little, folks, but things are moving!

On the gym side, because it’s awfully hot outside, but we keep working out, I am sweating on the matt three evenings a week, and tonight I got my personal plan updated with lots of stuff for tummy and core stability: a whole hour spent crunching and pulling the fitball and moving back and forth while trying not to fall…keep your abs contracted, baby, they told me, you’re doing great!
Yeah. I am.

Tomorrow (or should I say today, as tomorrow IS today while I’m posting this) I am not teaching and so the plans are to finish here, have a nice run, maybe do the chores in the afternoon, prepare the clothes and stuff to pack, and read some more. Also, watch C.S.I., take a look at tomorrow’s lessons, do my nails (a-hem…), and maybe write a letter. I am thinking a lot about David, these days, and I really need to tell him all about my life at the moment. Sharing my pieces of mind with him is a refreshing action; there are some more people who should receive news from me, and I have promised I will do it soon. So, all I’m saying is, as always: keep the faith!
I am in the best possible mood now, and I would love to share my thoughts, my light, my happiness with all my beloved. Reach my hands out to you all, and hold you.
As I’m writing this it’s nearly 10.30 pm, and I have a book waiting for me, 200 pages to the end.
It feels so good.

Images from the White City

Ok...the idea WAS actually to post four pixies from our trip to Trieste...but blogger is slow, and the internet connection at home is even slower...so nevermind, maybe when I really feel like spending two hours waiting for an upload of images, ok?

A weekend in the white city and more

I am back. And I feel good. I have projects and light shoulders, a clearer view on what I can do and on what I want to do, I have even got hopes. Things seem to be less bleak and more sunny, like the sun that has embraced me for the past four days in beautiful Trieste, the White City on the sea, Joyce’s second home town after Dublin.
I arrived on a sunny Saturday afternoon, and walked for hours, admiring its old and fascinating buildings, up to the main square, golden and breathless, an open door to the port and the sea, where ships were arriving and leaving, and the sea was shiny and wonderful, and the smell of salty water filled my mind entirely and it was like I was back in Swansea. I walked and walked for three entire days, taking pictures, chatting, looking around; we stopped for fantastic ice-creams, and for drinks before having dinner in fancy restaurants (the first night in an Indian restaurant and the second in a Japanese one, for my very favourite food – after Italian, that is). We went to a walk by the sea where people simply laid down large towels and lied in the sun, the sea being too cold to dive in, although we did immerse our feet, just to feel the water. More pictures were taken, more walks in the city followed, and a final homey dinner was eaten before watching two very interesting movies, “Equilibrium” first, with Christian Bale (wonderful movie indeed, folks. Highly recommended by yours truly), and then “Harold and Maude”, straight from 1971, sweet in a bizarre kind of way, however very enjoyable. A movie night with friends, on the couch sharing a blanket at the end of a relaxing weekend, after being away from this suffocating valley and this bleak clouds hanging over it…that’s exactly what I needed.
So as I said, things have sort of cleared in my mind, although I am taking this week off serious acting in order to think a bit more: I am giving my lessons to my boys (of the six trainers at the gym I am teaching 4…not bad!), and tomorrow I am going to send a cv to a bookshop of Trieste where they are looking for personnel…and my fingers are going to be crossed for the next weeks until I get a reply…It would be too wonderful and perfect if I could get that job, exactly one of the things I’ve most loved doing, and leave my hometown for a while, change air, literally.
Anyway…this is only one of the dreams I am cultivating at the moment, and it feels great to have dreams again. To be able to dream again, and think with a peaceful mind about the actions to take, about the calls to make, the letters to write. I seriously did not think I would ever get back to this feeling.
I am a lot calmer and more lucid, so much that I also think that I can quit with the shrink, after next session, which I am doing because we are going to play this “transformation game”, for a whole afternoon, and I am curious about it, but then I think that I will quit. The fact is, I have acted in a hurry after resigning from my job, and called her on the spur of the moment with no real intention, only to make mum happy; I guess we were both looking for a miracle and she seemed the quickest way to get there. I don’t much like going there anyway, to be honest: she only makes me talk, and brings in ideas for more reflections that put me into more depression than I can –or want to – bear. And thank you, I don’t need to pay 35 Euros per hour to be told that I must free my mind from the obsession of being accepted by other people by first accepting myself. As if nobody told me before, as if I didn’t already know. It is something I have always worked on by myself, so I guess there is no need to be helped through this process by somebody who so far has only told me that the beauty is in the eyes if the beholder, and that I should invest more on my femininity (or something of the kind), only to contradict herself by remarking that she didn’t even know if she had brushed her hair that day. I mean, are you saying that I should work more on what I have and feel better by using the simple feminine tricks of “hair-make up –clothes”, or are you telling me that beauty is in me no matter how I dress and make up? Oh, bother..
But what I understand now, is that there is no way I can have a miracle, as long as I brood over the past and my mistakes; ok, the past 10 years have been an embarrassing sequence of mistakes and bad actions, taken in a hurry, almost desperately. But not all of it was negative: I chose to go to that university for the wrong reasons, ok, but if I had not gone there I would have never:
- studied the subjects that fascinate me so much now, meaning gender and the likes;
- won the scholarship for Hull, which resulted in my meeting the most fabulous people of my life (yes, David, Lisette, Charlotte, Rigmor..I am talking of you); not to mention the fact hat the Hull year allowed me to get a good view on the English student way of life; and then I studied one of the most interesting subjects of my life, film adaptation, which is still one of the things I love reading of and studying.
- Lived in the beautiful Bergamo and discovered its streets, its cinemas, the lights at Christmas and the sky in summer.
- Worked in the university bookshop, which has always been on of my dreams (working with books, in general), where I made friends with some more great people and learnt and read and talked so much of every single thing one can think of.

What I mean is: it hasn’t been all that bad. Of course I could have done things better, like getting a better mark with my thesis, and studying more for that exam of linguistics and the one of philosophy of language; sure, I could have chosen another university too, and lived an entirely different life, and maybe now I would be a media scholar with a Phd running in cinema studies, who can tell? Maybe I would have found a boyfriend and be married by now, how do you know?
But I cannot turn back time; I can only try and accept what was, nothing else. Remember the good things, and try and learn from the bad things, even if thinking of them makes me sad and regretful.
Now it’s time to work on a better future, and I am going to take my time: keep your fingers crossed too, please. Good will is ok, but a little luck is always useful.

So...let's sum things up

Update. Although I don’t feel much like writing. But I keep on thinking that it can only be good for me.
I am very, very, very depressed. I’ve forced myself to go to the gym, and I have seen a couple of friends too, plus I am giving lessons of English now, and all this is helping.
No, I’m not down for the job: actually, I am very calm about it, because I feel and I am convinced that it is the best choice.
I am seeing this shrink now, and what happens now is that instead of having flying thoughts that bring me down every now and then, I have constant thoughts that bring me to tears and push me down to the bottom, where the only thing I seem able to do is dig and dig. Mother is very worried and I am only trying to climb up.
The following things don’t really help:
- seeing library friend who’s still sad about me not going to her wedding; plus, while we were there, mother came to pick me up and go home together, and she looked at the pictures of friend’s wedding, and so found out that I had not gone to the wedding; all this led to me saying that I have been depressed for quite a while, making her even more worried and sad at the thought that I have been feeling this bad without her knowing so that she could never help me;- seeing the shrink and having this constant bad feeling that I should be a grown-up person whereas I probably look like a mummy’s daughter because of my attachment to her; it’s true, I should leave and set free. But still, it hurts to think that I am staying here out of some selfish unconscious reason like the need to be needed, as shrink said yesterday. Anyway, I know I should leave. That is why I have left my job, right? Because I need to be free and find my way, wherever and whatever that is.
- Apparently the way towards happiness is marked with depressing thoughts and anguishing thoughts too. So I think and think and think, and nothing makes me feel better. It is also a vicious circle, because I don’t feel like going out or see people, but this makes me spend a lot of time with mum, and things get even harder.

One of the things that made me think after seeing the shrink was her question of my femininity (which obviously – and banally, I must say – led to a question on my sexuality): so ok, I am not a constant girlie girl. I don’t wear make-up, I don’t wear skirts often, I don’t do anything with my hair, and now when I think of the reasons I can simply picture the expression that the shrink would have on her face: you know, the face of “yeah, right, as if I can buy that”. But honestly, let’s consider it:
I don’t make up because: I touch my face, especially my eyes, continuously. I rub my eyes, and rub my cheeks, and lick my lips on a constant basis; I scratch my forehead and when I am nervous I rub it so much that it becomes red in a minute. Plus, I am a sport person, you know! After the office I jump on the treadmill for hours, or spend hours at the gym and it’s no yoga, folks! I couldn’t be bothered to waste ten minutes on cleansing and rubbing off the make-up from my face, come on! I am too practical! But ok, I could care a little more when I go out with friends, like on Saturday night or at the band. Only, if I am at the band I am very laid-back, and so am I when I go out for a drink or something; I mean, I’m in no hunt. And I always think that beauty does not lie in a painted face.
I don’t wear sexy clothes because it is not my normal attitude. For one, I am not one who would go to the office in a mini skirt or transparent shirt..come on! Two, being so uncomfortable with my body I’d rather wear things that make me feel comfortable, you know? And the same thing applies to when I go shopping, say, and to the band: I’m going there to play, not to pull! However, when I go out on Saturday nights I do wear “nicer” stuff, but only if I feel well with myself.
I don’t do anything with my hair because I am useless. That’s it. I have tried thousand of times, but it’s just not my field, and my hair refuses to be tamed. The pony tail, fair; some sort of chignon, ok; straighten it when I am really up for wasting more than five minutes on it, fine. But there is no way I can do anything more than that. Don’t bother me now!

So all in all, the matter doesn’t lie in my possible lack of femininity, but in my being uncomfortable with my body: when I feel fine, and less fat than usual, I like to dress properly, and I even make up my face (only to spend the following two or three hours with the constant reminder that I cannot touch my face…).
The shrink annoyed me a few times during the session, and since it is not the first time she did it, I started to think that maybe it is her way to prompt thoughts over one self. She did really annoy me when she asked me if I’ve ever thought about being gay. I was waiting for that question, knowing that if we were investigating over my bad relationship with people we would talk about my family and my sexuality, so after the question on femininity I am surprised she did not ask me straight away about my tendency. However when I said that no, I have never considered the idea of being gay, she replied that I should think about it, and then went on a banal speech on how it is easier for men to realise their homosexuality because of the physical reactions, and bla bla bla. I was not fast enough to reply: “Listen, lady: I have spent a total of three years and a half being in love with the same person: male. I have chosen university not to be too far from him (and from my friends, but that’s another story); I have moved to England to get over him, when I realised that there was no hope and never had been. While in England, I half fell in love with another man and had a quick crush on two more. And after that, I’ve had crushes on three more people – men, one of which was no longer than 6 months ago. I know, it doesn’t mean anything. But still, there’s some sort of electricity I feel…and it happens only with men. Case closed”.
It annoys me to being forced to talk about sex, because I don’t really think you can bring everything down to that. And since I know my personal history, I believe that the equation goes like this:
Fatty child being made fun of since 5 = bad feeling with body = uncomfortable feeling with myself and as a consequence with the other people.
I see no sex around in this, do you?

Anyway. Case closed, as I said. The next session at the shrink involves some sort of Monopolis game, called “the game of transformation”, and I am curious about it. I would also like to do that Reiki session we have out off because she preferred to continue with our chat. But then, I think, I will end. I mean, I am not going to give up. I only think that most of my problems of depression come from having made the wrong choices; but the tiny giant step of leaving my job and start thinking about myself, with a free mind and no worries about car instalments or money for the house, well, that’s all I had to do. And so, I give myself another two or three sessions with the shrink, and then I will say goodbye.
In the meantime, I already have three people for my lessons, and plans to get to teaching, if I can and am lucky enough. But there is no hurry. I have also plans of getting down to serious writing, now that I have the time, and think about my future with a calmer mind, and no hurry to find whatever job I can only because I have stuff to pay. And this, folks, is an incredibly good feeling.

So, see? Things are not to bad all in all. I mean, I swift from depression to optimism as usual, but I have the time to recover, and above all, I have a peace of mind I have lacked for so long I had almost forgotten what it felt like. This can’t be bad.

I am leaving for Trieste tomorrow morning, for a long weekend with a couple of friends. And I am going to the band tonight. And I am running today, after the 8.30 lesson.
And when I am back from Trieste it will be May, and the beginning of a calm, careful, peaceful planning of my future.

Things look bright today, and I plan to keep them this way.

One more weekend (March, 24-25)

Running, running, running.
I spent the weekend running, most of the afternoon both on Saturday and Sunday. It felt so good (although not exactly so good on Sunday when I had the most gigantic blister you could imagine) (today I can barely walk, by the way, thank to that blister).
Anyway.
Interview in an hour, and I have just decided that I will not take this half hour off, since the place is five minutes away from here and I can be there at 12.05 and it won’t be a problem. They don’t expect me earlier than this time anyway, because they’ve been told that I work until 12.
I don’t know what to do and I haven’t talked to my boss’s wife yet. But then this morning I had a problem with a price, and when I checked I saw that all the other prices weren’t the same I had in my notebook. So I went asking Epg, and I found out that there is a new price list I wasn’t aware of, because nobody bothered to tell me or give me a copy; this is in spite of the fact that the boss told Epg that every time they’ve completed a price list she should make a copy for me or copy me in the email she sends to the customer or agent. Thank you very much for making me part of the team, hu?
I am so tired. When I saw that price list I just felt tears coming up and I had to smile and ask politely if I could take that sheet and make a copy, please.
Dammit! This is not fair!
Her new working time is from 9 till 5, with one hour lunch break. Which makes me feel somehow well, because I have two hours virtually by myself. Still, I don’t know what to do. Tonight, though, after collecting all the courage that I have, I will talk to the boss’s wife. After Epg leaves, that is! First I want to see what happens in that interview, what they can offer, what the place is like and all that.
News from the weekend is that I have watched so much tv I didn’t think I could do it, meaning that I have never-ever-ever felt so close to an inanimate object like during these past two days. The weather helped, I must say, thanks to the rain and cold and the generally crappy sky and air we’ve had.
You see, after some more boring rehearsals where I left right away since there were none of my friends and I was pissed off about it;
after going to see yet another set of flooring for the house-to-be;
after preparing lunch and cleaning the kitchen;
after running 5 miles and stretching and showering;
after tidying my room and uploading more music files on my laptop;
after trying to make a cd for David (me and music-makers do not go along well, and I can’t figure out why. Still, I lost almost an hour trying to do that stupid thing!);
after more running and stretching;
after tidying the job files on my desktop;
after more cleaning of the house and tidying of papers;
after writing for a while and complimenting upon my writing skill (because I read last weeks’ brainstorm and it was beautiful…what drugs was I on that day? Must have been all the chocolate…);
after ALL THIS, there was still so much time to go before bed time, and even though I had also read for a while, the call was too strong, and I just had to do it…
So, one episode on Friday night after rehearsals…
Saturday, only two episodes, and just because “Law & Order - Special Victim Unit” was on…
But Sunday, folks…Sunday was a massacre.
The morning was a useless sequence of talks with brother, and with mother, and music files and idle thinking over money and books (don’t ask); in the afternoon I thought I wouldn’t run because of my bad foot, so I watched a couple of S&H before setting off with some writing or music work; then I thought that I could try to run, after all, as I was restless as usual and I knew that if I didn’t move I wouldn’t sleep at night, and I went on the treadmill, for more than an hour, while thinking confusing thoughts about music, and cinema, and how to put the two together, and trying not to think about work and about today’s interview. Follows shower and preparation of my early dinner (apple, yogurt, a marmalade sandwich); then I decided to do something I never do, that is spend the rest of the day in bed, with my dinner and my dvd…and from 6 o’clock to almost midnight, there is nothing else to say…

A TOTAL AMOUNT OF 8 EPISODES, OF WHICH

FIVE PLAYED ONE AFTER THE OTHER,

NON-STOP!

And boy did I laugh! I remembered some of them, the stories I mean, but not the fun and irony and silly stuff going on, and I really really really liked it, so much that I thought it was a good idea to just go on watching until bedtime to feel better.
And I tell you, if I could, I would have watched a couple more, just for the fun of it. A real Starsky & Hutch marathon.
Not bad for one who says I rarely watch tv, hu?

And now, for something completely different: the interview. I must write this to clear my mind, although I don’t think that’s going to help.
So, the interview was ok: small office, two young guys and a girl, pretty friendly, some casual talk and an explanation of the activities of the firm. It looked all right, and they seemed quite convinced that I would be the right choice, even asking me when I would be able to start, and all that.
By the way, I would be their first choice because of my experience…
In a couple of hours I’ll go talk to the boss’s wife, and I will try to tell her how uncomfortable I feel. How I am not a part of the team, and how difficult it has become to work here, not to mention how useless I feel I have become. Then who knows. Technically, accepting the new proposal means no change in terms of pay, and a short “testing” time which, if I want, can be arranged to be straight with the firm, not through the job agency, which is what I most worried about. So, on the practical point of view it would be a change for better, for a smaller, quieter office with lots of work I could easily handle, with three decent colleagues and a more relaxed attitude (and just one woman, remember. This would really make my day).