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...

Quiet as a tornado..

Pretty much anyone who knows me,knows me as the most effervescent single girl they have ever met. I have had a few romantic stories. Some of them have changed me profoundly..influenced me into being the person I am today...with some regrets,of couse,as all of those stories did, eventually, come to an end. I love my life, despite all of it's quarky flaws and wrongs. I love being free to like and eat and listen to and watch and read what I like when I like where I like without having to be reliable on or responsable for anyone else. Guess that's called "being in your twenties and appreciating singleness". I have a few highly trusted friends, a zillion acquaintances and I meet dozens of people on a daily basis whom I share life and have fun,and cry and laugh with them but then, I keep a whole inner me secluded home for me to find when I get back..and that seems to be when the fun really starts..when I take my make-up off,put my trackies and my favourite music on..put off lights, light up candles and scented oils and get engrossed into reading,cooking,painting,writing, or merely speculating on the news or some random thought. My sister and her fiancè say they can totally picture me in a couple of decades living with a whole bunch of dogs, sporting long white hair in a dusty country house full of books. Suddenly, someone then walks into your life. As quietly as a tornado, he doesn't sweep you off your feet but worse: he can read you so well to put your foundations down. And you still have no idea of how he did it. And suddenly, even if you have a few trusted friends, a zillion acquaintaices and a few dozen strangers to talk to you wish to hear no-one's voice but his..Unfortunately, he is the one person you have asked to stay out of your life because it scared you how much he got you inside and because,somehow, the mistakes and hurts of the past haunt you worse than a ghoast. I miss you.

As you said, "It's been raining since you and I". Yesterday the sun came out again, but why is it you won't get out of my heart? I miss you.

Impulsiveness and the Power of Hindsight

I am impulsive. I always have been. I got out of bed at 3 am to write this. I must be impulsive.
When you are little, lack of experience, a mystical curiosity for what's out there and a wonderful sense of spontaneity brings you to writing silly messages on a piece of paper to the boy sitting next to you in class..to buzz the intercom at a stranger's place and run off as soon as they answer..to run naked in a field..roll yourself in the snow..spontaoneity. Then one day you "grow up", you become an "adult" and on your way to becoming a woman/man,adulescence,certain attitudes become un-cool and things you should restrain yourself from doing in exchange for make-up, French kisses and high heels. I never cared for those sorts of undefined social agreements and cliques. Instead, I have always prefered to stay as care-free and spontaneous. However there are certain moments in one's life when you realize that it is time to grow up. It is time not to speak everytime you wish to do so (even when it's irrelevant or inappropriate). A time when you should keep your impulses under control.

Unlike the widespread stereotype on postmoder women, I hate shopping, especially for clothes. (I swear I am honest and I ain't lying!!) However sometimes a girl has gotta do what's she's gotta do and I too shop. A few weeks ago I had seen this wee coat I had fallen in love with. But, as I had not enough money on me, I set my mind on going back later on that week to get it. I never got around going back to that shop until this afternoon. I was so excited about that coat when I had first seen it, but as the time had gone by, my interest for it diminished and, when I saw it again this afternoon, it looked aweful to me. The colour was different,the material looked bad and I had generally lost interest in it. I am beginning to love the patience,or you might want to call it "laziness" I am developing in taking time to think before acting upon my emotions, without having lost on that awe-filled sense of wonder and spontaneity for life. So I am just going to get some snow and roll in it! As for moving in with someone..that may take much,much longer!!

Feeling all grown up..Feeling so small..

Freedom to Learn

Epictetus once wrote in his "Discourses" that 'we must not believe the many, who say that only free people ought to be educated, but we should rather believe the philosophers who say that only the educated are free'. The best of my academic background up to two years ago has formally majored in the field of the humanities. To be perfectly honest, I find much greater pleasure in discovering about the human body and science than reading volumes of literature and philosophy. However, I have always been brought up to respect and revere the knowledge of those who came before me, the valuable lessons that history can teach us and to the wisdom of the ancients. Around about 400 B.C., the historian Tucidides first wrote about the lessons that are to be learnt from history which, as later on Giambattista Vico reinforced, repeats itself. I have always believed that notion to be true.. unlike most Italian politicians! I find myself rather disgusted by the state of our parliament which seems to represent us Italians less and less. We have come a long way since the 1970's..the days when Italians begun to make their voices heard protesting and fighting through the weapons of free speech their dissent on civil rights, education, equality. By the 1980's my parents' generation had obtained for us everything we would have ever needed and more: a stable, prospering economy, highly bureaucratic yet perfectly efficient free public health,educational and legal systems..and the luring presence of private broadcasting. Under the false illusion of colour TV, increasingly shorter skirts and mind-numbing programs..Silvio Berlusconi begun his crusade for personal gain though corruption, delusion, politics and privatization. I am not here to make of him the "Antichrist" but imagine living in a country governed by, as an American television put it, "one man combines the political powers of President Bush, the media influence of Rupert Murdoch and the wealth and ambition of Ross Perot and Steve Forbes" (If you have about 30 minutes to spare and the necessary empathy to find out more about the devastation that is taking place in my beloved homeland, please to follow the link above and spread the word around!!!!) A new law was just approved yesterday on Italian education (from primary to University and Research) which risks to dangerously undermine our educational system by making university into elite privatized factories for the wealthy, making our country poorer and poorer and less knowledgeable which in my opinion implies making it easier for unscrupulous leaders to subdue the masses. Let us keep our freedom to learn.

***The pictures in this post were taken by me this week at the protests where thousands of intellectuals, students, teachers, professors, researchers and common people alike have been demonstrating apolitically against the newly approved 133 law. We are currently awaiting the possibility of an abrogative referendum.***

What if?

Regardless of my many attempts to write a post on the "What ifs" of life, this is the first time I feel daring enough to go through with it.
"No regrets!" has always been my motto, but what if the turn I took, the road I chose, the things I did, felt or said were a different closed envelop than the one I picked? The movie "Sliding Doors" (1998) may not be the best film ever produced and we all might agree on the fact that Gwyneth Paltrow's best feature is Mr Chris Martin, but it is a great starting point for a discussion of what would have happened if someone missed a certain sliding door in life..would that just mean they'd have to catch the next train to the same station or the possibility of commencing a brand new life adventure..
As you all know, I have recently returned back to where it all started from and I am glad I did even if this choice carries along a great deal of implications. Fox is currently showing a TV serial called "October Road" - the show has actually been on for the past year or so, but I have not managed to watch any of it if not the trailer. Apparently it tells the story of an author who returns home after 10 years to face the people he had based his book on. The catch phrase is "because only the fool does not return to the place where he had been happy". I wanna be no fool. Despite my constant criticism of Naples and of the things I disagree of on my hometown, I lived wonderful years here.
Exactly a week ago I was at possibly the swankiest pool party of the year for a dear friend's graduation. Elegant venue, chic dresses, superb cusine, free bar, good music, beutiful young people, warm laughters, genuine affection.. perfect, I'd say. I was at first a little apprehensive about seeing people I had not met in 3,5,10 years even. What would they make of my life story? How would they perceive me? Would I be pretty in their eyes? Don't get me wrong: I am a generally extremely self-confident person, very much at peace with my self and, as I said, with "no regrets". But the situation required a little self awareness, I guess. So I got ready, adjusted the last few details before the mirror by the entrance door and entered into a new/familiar world. Beyond any of my expectations, it was like being once again the popular girl in jr high, but I did not have to pretend to be anyone else but me. After a couple of years of feeling worthless, ugly and misunderstood, I felt..well..at home!
All this often made me wonder on whether ever going away was the right choice.. what if the cute young doctor who was chatting me up had been a classmate of mine five years ago, what if I hadn't snobbed off that group of people, what if I had never fallen in love with the guy who ended up scarring me for life, what if..what if..what if...!??!?!?!
But the answer is always the same: you cannot judge life backwards because the person we are today is inevitably the result of experience - the right choices and the wrong turns alike.

As You Really Are..

Typing on the notes of Giovanni Allevi, a young musical genious if you ask me, I am going through the emotions of the past few hours..of the past few days..the past few months..years even.. it all feels like a flow; an unstoppable, alternate flow which sometimes feels like a flood..at times like a dry river bank in the hottest season..sometimes its flow is nice,smooth,constant; others it is rough like a stormy sea..and I may feel like the boat that floats and sinks and sails and harbours..or feel like the river itself which, to people's not noticing, feels and sees and hears and cries and smiles and lives. Learning. Learning that even to the most righteous, intentions must be examined before expressing judgement on one's actions. Learning that the people we put the most expectations upon are the ones who, rather predictably, are most likely to fail those expectations and, viceversa, those we sometime overlook, may be the most suitable canditates to amaze us. There is a lovely analogy in the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun" where a rather odd lady tells the story of her being a little girl desperately looking for a ladybird for hours and hours until she fell on the grass, started to despair and eventually fell asleep. To much of her surprise, by the time she got up she was covered in ladybirds. We are often too busy looking for something that is right under our noses. Another really good line is in the follow up from "Bruce Almighty" when the "Noah" of the situation talks to God and God tells him that He does not answer to our prayers by giving us something other than what he has already provided for us, but rather by offering us situations which will enable us to take what we have asked for. It's only movies, they are only words, but I am beginning to learn to embrace whatever beautiful surrounds me in this unlikely beautiful world of ours...thus embracing the life which was not so freely given to me.

A Year...

The changability of life is an issue that will possibly never cease to intrigue me. Life that moves,changes,evolves somehow. As most people, I have a little "End of the Year" ritual - I assess the year that has just gone by and ponder upon valuable or less significant changes I would like to see in the coming year. In other words, I think...way too much. Nevertheless, I have always found this sort of meditation on life really handy in giving me better direction, more precise goals, aim better and, one would hope, make things better each year. Sometimes I manage,sometimes I fail, sometimes I learn from it all. This year has been incredibly difficult on so many levels, but I stand here with a smile on my face, a tranquil and serene smile, because I now know for a fact that what doesn't break us, makes us stronger indeed. A year ago I made a set of good intentions and resolutions for 2007. I randomly stumbled upon them again this morning to discover, to much of my surprise, that, with the exception of improving my French, all of them did come true!! May be not in the way I had thought those things would take place, but eventually they all happened and I am much better off as a result! But this is certainly not meant to be a paternalistic, condiscending message of victory, but an attempt to keep on trying to improve. If I could give a title to this year like one gives a title to a book, it would probably be "The Year of the Second Chances" - rarely does it happen at my young age to be given an opportunity to be transferred back to their life when they were half the age they are now and facing people and circumstances with a newly acquired sense of maturity, stability, experience and self confidence. I feel truly blessed for this. I truly do not want to mess it all up this time around. So here it is to second chances and the experiences which have made us the people we are!

Captive Markets

Like hot chocolate in a small mountain cabin after a long day skiing, like a bottle of fresh water during a walk through the desert, like shops opened all day on Sundays before Christmas. We have all been in certain situations where, by choice or obligation, we have become victims of the so-called "Captive Markets". By definition, capitive markets have a much more specific meaning. A web sites offers this comprehensive definition: *A captive market is a group of consumers who have limited choice in terms of the products they can select/purchase (no choice)! This type of market was common during the production era when there was a limited supply of goods (and great demand). It occurs when the market is monopolistic, thus there is only one supplier in the marketplace. This is more likely to occur with digital products (Microsoft is a good example of this). It can occur when a marketer has achieved significant lock-in for its installed based. Thus the switching costs for the consumer to try a competing product become prohibitive.* In' my book', a captive market is when the "producers" know exactly that you will need their product, hence they will make it available to you at prohibiting conditions: if you can afford it, good for you; if you can't, on the contrary, too bad. In "developing" countries, this form of dispotism is, renownly and shamefully, common practice. Liverpool John Lennon Airport has got their own take on the matter. Given that only 'economy flights' land and take off from there, one assumes that they are saving on their travelling costs...big misunderstanding! The mere price of the shuttle from Manchester to Liverpool has gone from £5 to £10 in a mere 6 month! That's like a 100% increase, 100%!! And how do you explain that one set of scales indicates one is 2.5 kg overweight and the other check in set of scales indicates 3 kg less than the first?! (every kg overweight is charged at a price, of course!). Then there is the cue for the compulsory security check - 25 minutes long. Long enough to miss a flight. But, at the accessible price of £2 per passenger you can soar through the cue and get priority. What kind of message are we preaching? Money as a tool for priviledge even in a context, security, where everyone should be the same? It's £2, I know, but it is the principles that concerns me. And makes me cross.

Happy

I know you are already hearing the legendary song by the Rolling Stones resounding in your ears right now as I mentioned "Happy" (that's of course, if in the Beatles/Rolling Stones diatribe you were not a Beatles fan!) Rock on! The young lady in the picture, on the contrary, is my wonderful dog, Happy. She is the 'daughter my father never had', the life of this house and the cause of a heck of a lot of laughter. Jeez, I mean we are not stereotypically "pet-people", but ever since we have had her as a family pet we have experienced so much...well...happiness! Doh! Happy is also how I feel right now. Do you ever fear that changes are going to kill you,that if life takes a different turn from what you had expected you'll die of remorse and heartache? Well,not necessarily. Sometimes it's true: what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Happier. So here it is to change and life unexpected twists!

The Fashionist

At uni, I got a heck of a lot of nicknames. One of the most ironic ones was "the Italian Stylen" - me, the only Italian who can't dress!? I am not much for fashion, though I seem to have a strong sense of what I like and what I most definitively don't like.
I remember laughing hysterically as I used to look through my mom and dad's old photos wearing big 'hear-dos' in the 80's, flared jeans in the 70's and so on. Me and my little sister would laugh and laugh and remark we would never ever wear flared jeans. Liers. By the mid 1990's we two were shopping obsessively for the most flared pair of jeans. By last year, we two were wearing those hideous buffooned fringes and leg-warmers. Not funny. That's why now I am a little weary to be too judgemental about the ever so comfortable as ever so ugly footwear of the year, the crocs. So I would like you to make up your own mind on the matter, maybe with a little help from our Canadian friends (see video below)

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!

Facing the Demons

When I was seven, a little girl found the skeleton of a homo-sapience lying on a beach somewhere along the Northern African coast. An archeology enthusiast back then, I was totally thrilled by the news and sat closely by the telly in order to see the presenter unveil this remarkable historical discovery. Little did I know at the time that putrefied skeletons are not much of a pretty sight and I spent the evening being terrorized by flashing images of the once cave man. At night, I reluctantly waved my parents good-bye, made my way upstairs and walked into the darkened bedroom. Lying in bed I kept on being haunted by those images I had seen earlier on the screen. I shivered, I was scared then, I vividly remember, I sat up in the middle of the bed, turned my wee side table lamp on and gave myself a little declaration about why I shouldn't have been afraid of a dead man. For a dead man cannot do me any harm; same reasoning went for beetles, who are too small compared to me, ghosts, insects, animals, monsters and all sort of creepy creatures. The same reasoning goes for most things still now. Guess in many ways Faith has helped me exorcise a lot of fears and made me a much braver person. Time changes us, man, doesn't it change us. I have now returned to an old reality, to the things I loved and I had forgotten I did, to the places I always liked, the mentality I could never embrace, the people I disagreed so much with, but never felt adequate enough to confront. Now a much older, hopefully wiser, woman I face the world with very little fear. It doesn't mean that I have the answers to everything, nor that I am fearless or invincible. It is just that with the light on, even in the middle of the night, it becames much easier to face monsters, demons, life.

C'era Una Volta..."Once Upon a Time" Does Not Mean "Happily Ever After", Right?

One week into my newly re-found Southern Italian life, I am already starting to notice the differences. Despite the sun, the good food, the relaxed attitude to life, the excitement of things to be and all that, I am beginning to being confronted with a new thing in a familiar place. The reality of being an adult and no longer the teen-ager who left home five years ago, it's truly starting to sink in. Last night I watched a repeat of my favourite television program from when I was in junior high, a political satire programme entitled, The Pippo Chennedy Show. When I was thirteen, it was iconic. We all watched it, the nation was in hysterics for its clever ridicule of the late 1990's society we were living in...with its faults and prides, idiosyncrasies and contradictions, common places and taboos. I used to laugh my little head off with my friends, or by my self. Last night I waited for the show with great anticipation: I sat there, sang along the opening tune (I was ever so surprised I could still remember the lyrics, one of those events that makes you giggle), listened to a few jokes (most of which were still, scarily, appropriate to the current government and political scene..) then got bored half way through. I was initially adman to resist all the way through the show, out of respect for what it once represented for my generation, then became sad at the thought of things that have passed, gone, belong to a time that is now past. Tonight I went to visit my younger sister at the youth camp she is attending this week. Loads of her friends were there (some of them are the younger siblings of my friends); many familiar places, many familiar faces..I even met this guy I used to have a major and I mean MAJOR crush on age 12!!! He had become fatter, shorter than I remembered him to be. As he came towards me I smiled (he must have thought I was nuts, but probably didn't have the faintest idea that what I was laughing about is the thought I ever even liked him!!!).
What I have realised is that you can't put new wine in an old bottle, clean clothes on sweaty arm-pits. You have gotta move on, and stay truthful to who you are.