Butterflies

P retty much everybody who knows me is aware of my freaking phobia for any living creature, birds and pigeons especially, that has the ability to fly. I've often been told it is hilarious to watch me screem and fan my hands with no coordination whatsoever at the sight of a pigeon! Having said that I still hold a great deal of respect for God's creative talent and I must admit he did a pretty good job on the butterfly front. Colourful,graceful,wispy,beautiful. Just the other day one of them posed on my friend's shoulder for quite a while until we all notice it and she flew away flapping her wings rapidly into the air. It's been so long. So much time has passed and life has changed and it has changed me with it. It's still me,but different. Sometimes I feel like I have become a different person, but deep inside I haven't - I am just the grown up version (or I'd better say "the growing up" version) of myself. there is somebody I used to love very much,but now this has changed and I have become much less sensitive, yet much more sensible. I no longer hold any feelings at all for that person yet from time to time I am reminded that what I felt, what we had was not nothing - like what I feel now, but it was real,wonderful. The intimacy and understanding, the companionship, the critique, the dialogue, the arguments, the sharing,the jokes,the laughter,the tears,the challenges,the care. I wonder whether I am destined to ever feel butterflies in my stomach at somebody walking into a room, at the simple knowledge of someone being there...

When Stories and History Meet

"Aurevoire, Big Luciano!"

By now everyone in the global community has been bombarded with images of the, undiscussedly, greatest Tenor of all times, "Il Maestro" as he was known, "Big Luciano", the Italian opera singer Luciano Pavarotti, sadly departed yesterday morning in his villa in Modena, Italy. From the BBC, to La Repubblica, Le Monde and other news agencies from all over the globe have grandeously celebrated and reverently mourned what El País describes as "A divine voice that has been silenced" . I get the impression most people expect us to mourn. After all we are Italians, right?: we are bound to be emotional, extrovert and overly expressive. I have sometimes tried to detach myself from the stereotype, but as I heard the news yesterday and re-watched some footage of Pavarotti's career several times, I became sad. Pavarotti represented, with his voice and international involvement, a positive image of what is beautiful, precious, rare, unique about our Land. He was an icon, a pillar. Like "the Olympic Torch", carrying the flame of sportive spirit across the world; like the Eiffel Tower in Paris reminding the French about their heritage, the "Big Ben" in London, Clocks in Switzerland, Clogs in Holland, Guinness in Ireland, "Big Luciano" was an institution for my country, and we all loved him like as if he was a member of each one of our families. We grew up watching him singing at every significant event of our lives - every new year's day, at midnight, the opening of the Olympic games, the "Pavarotti & Friends" charitable events. Music was his life and his music accompanies every Italian like the soundtrack of our lives, passionately stroking the most sensitive cords of our spirits, pride and love. Now that he has gone, exactly two days after Gigi Sabani, an iconic representative of Italian comedy and television for over thirty years, it's like as if a brick had been taken out of an old castle. Even though its base stands strong of ancient values formed and reinforced throughout history, it's most intrinsic beauty has been robbed of a precious element and we sure will miss you, Big Luciano!

Freedom Is...

When my mom and dad first started dating in the late 1970's, they used to write each other cards representing a semi-naked chubby character (cupid-like) who made statements such as "love is.." (Nothing kinky relax - I promise I will scan some of them in as soon as I get back home). Must admit it was a bit of a shock when, age 9, I found those cards in a box at the bottom of mommy's wardrobe (not to mention my dad's personal journals...) - do you think one goes to hell for nosing into their parents journals?! Anyway. All this just to explain the title of my post! Also it has just occurred to me that writing kinda runs in the family.I wish I could say "we don't talk much", hence we write, but that would be a blatant lie. What can I say: we are just a communicative type of family, that's all... This morning I was reading the Metro on my way to work. In front page an article about Alan Johnston, the BBC journalist freed after being held by Palestinian militants for 114 days. On being free he rather articulately stated, "You want to do everything at the same time, to read books and papers, go to the movies, beach and sit in the sun, and eat and talk and all the rest of it." But is that really what freedom means? I am intrigued. Karen recently introduced me to a new American slang expression, "to check one's vitals",to check your email, myspace, facebook, blog, and/or any daily essential websites. Check your vitals. For example: "Get off the computer, whore. I need to check my vitals." "Hey, wanna go get something to eat?Sure, but lemme finish checkin' my vitals first." I mean how free can one truly be when the indication of their freedom is judged against their ability to possess a certain knowledge, communicate interactively, access the right facilities. The idiotic former Italian prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi, once stated, with regards to the "War on Terrorism" that the Eastern world is an uncivilized world. He is an idiot and there is no doubt about that, however, how often are many of us guilty of considering, more or less consciously, non-Western civilizations less erudite, cultured and, let's face it, 'civilized'? In Italy we have this Encyclopedia called "Treccani" - the whole collection costs an average of £20K (that's, of course, without the dictionary and the additional supplements..) I know because my dad very generously bought me the whole thing when I was about 12. Along goes the opinion that if you don't have one of those, you are a nobody. What?! That's outrageous, isn't it? What about those who use the public library? (after all the fact that you possess an encyclopedia does not automatically imply that you read it) Moreover, who decided what "civilized", "cultured", "hip" is? How free we really are if our lives are so much dictated by the gym we go to to get the body magazines impose us to have by eating/not eating the foods we are told are "good for us", listening to the music we are told to listen to, watch the movies we have heard about and read the books of the moment? I am sick of the package holidays. Sick of doing the things everybody else does without even questioning them. But, for all of my talk, I am caught up in this huge spiral deeper than I ever thought I could be. Make up, wax, scrubbing, moisturising, tonic, three liters of water per day, 5 portions of fruit/veg, exercise at least three times a week (anything less is sloppy), walk instead of taking the car, buy organic and fairtrade, take your own recycled bag to the supermarket, buy "Word" magazine once a month and, when no-one is watching, get "Glamour" too (just for the little free gift, of course), skinny-sugar-free-fat-free-heck-taste-free fairtrade drink...ENOUGH!

Classy Lassy! - The Arcane Secrets of Human Psychosis

You must know the feeling yourselves, when you have got a stinking cold and breathing is enough of an effort (let alone trying to look lady like..) That's me this morning at the office:still fighting against a silly influenza which is making me sniffle, sneeze and blow my nose to much of my personal and my colleagues' annoyance! This morning on the bus there was a guy that was so lacking any manners that was pretty minging..He had extra fuzzy grey curly hair (nothing wrong with that!) and a full grown Victorian mustache. One may say, 'nothing wrong with wearing a mustache either...', but following Brian's all-inspiring post on people's annoying habits that get on your nerves, I'll confess: I have a real issue with people's..hairiness!!! I don't get it - the mustache guy on the bus who amongst many things kept on scratching his privates, vigorously picking his nose whilst 'eating the harvest' which got entangled in his facial hair..revolting or what? Anyway, even under more decent and composed circumstances, I struggle to understand facial hairs. Like how does a man with a tash lick his ice-cream? (I always make a mess of myself even without one) What would it feel like to kiss a guy with a full grown beard? (obviously never tried that before..) Guess men feel more...manly with their facial hair unshaven as they have waited years to hit puberty and gain this most explicit sign of manlihood..and I can totally understand the sex appeal of a little stubble in a guy..but women, what's that all about? During the last and most controversial British Big Brother show, Bollywood actress, Shilpa Shetty, was often caught happily bleaching her facial hairs on camera - classy, lassy! On the contrary, as displayed in her self portray above, Frida Kahlo, one of the most charismatic, provocative and psychotic 20th century female artists, never seemed to have any problems with priding herself in her masculine upper-lip hairiness and voluminous mono-brow.. nice. I have a recurrent joke with a friend of mine who has a ridiculous obsession with female hairy armpits (yep,tells you a lot about a guy..) - which I quite obviously don't agree with. As one of Almodovar's characters in "All About My Mother" would say, 'A woman is more autentic the closer she gets to her ideal of beauty' - ok, this is no condonation for extreme make-overs and plastic surgery (well, whatever floats your boat, really), but I still believe that, despite gender equality on intellectual grounds, a woman is still a woman and should seek to portray a wispy,ethereal image of beauty, grace, class and...HAIRLESSNESS! (whatever it takes) and that TOILET habits should be exclusively left to the privacy of the little girls' room..Like my image conscious beautiful mother would say, "Even after 25 years of marriage!, there is no excuse not to make an effort both for yourself and the one you love" .. Guess I don't really need to make up a list of things that annoy me...'coz there's your answer!!!
Love, from an attempting to be lady-like poorly little lady and feminist in disguise!(",)