Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Little stinky

Hey, did i tell u that we are three now?? And i’m not talking about the little ball growing inside me (we shall wait some six months in order to see it grow – what the fuck, don’t they know the longer the easier to name them? and then you’re lost... we shall wait... for what? for it to develop eyes? – And best of all is the assertion: i’m sure you don’t have any symptoms, it’s too small, may be just casual. Yeah, i bet it is). The newcomer is a ferret! Last day i quick-emailed a good friend: hey!! congratulations for your new home! Know what? we have a ferret now! Have to go, xxxx. U know, the kind of thing u do when u have like three spare seconds. His answer was something very similar to: Yeah, u have to come visit. Honey, aren’t ferrets dangerous? hey, i might be mistaken, but... He really seemed worried :) but ferrets are not much more dangerous than cats, in fact. Sharper teeth, yeah, probably. Try to keep your fingers out of their mouth and... solved! =D

It’s sooo very cute, he jumps, runs and hides alternatively, looks back and seems to be about to say can’t catch me, can’t catch me!!! Ok, true, it stinks... But apart from that, c’est gĂ©nial!!! I’ll put some clothespins next to the door, in case anybody can’t stand it...

Monday, October 18, 2010

Sounding stupid...

This castle in the air happens to be tall, very tall. Attractive and charming, enfolding like the clouds. Sure of himself, talkative, flavoured with a very intelligent touch of humour. So very natural that everything seems really easy. Funny, comfortable, serious though not quite... impossible with those sparkles in the eyes. Thundery voice, double surround system, that can be so private and sweet, so erotic. Castle in the air, sure is not mine, and i don't want him to be. He is so his that i want to be mine. And share his everything from time to time. Mmm, what about tomorrow?

About castles and clouds

Somebody said once something like have you been building castles in the air? good, they are exactly where they should be, now go lay the foundations.

The general feeling of the week-end is that of being in a dream. But full of colour, taste, touch, so real and earthly, so fulfilling... simply brilliant in the most ample sense.

I’ve always loved building castles in the air, but the occasions when i had actually laid their foundations are very rare. Mostly because many of the times i like them exactly the way they are: floating. I like that dizzy feeling, vertigo. Also because i like moving from one to another, no need for a bunch of boxes to be filled with (mainly) crap. And because dreams are so very important that living off with the fairies from time to time should be mandatory, at least for some of us.

Last few months i’ve been starting to lay foundations to one of my firsts castles i remember of. Last two or three weeks much more consciously. I have had some help, i must say. Collaboration is always basic ;)

Sometimes, laying foundations means letting them become real enough to be potentially broken any time soon. They could catch fire any minute (watched The Pillars of the Earth? I didn’t finish, breaks were far too long and interesting, though we did our best) and crumble before your eyes.

Sometimes, laying foundations is like living in a dream. But real. With its colours, smells, feelings... enfolding with a dizziness coming from the inside.

Sometimes it happens to be both.

Let me tell you something: i feel so happy that there is a stupid smile all over my face. Thing is right now, the fact that it’s being a dream for so long is the less important by far. It may have been a boost, but immediately transformed. Into a stupid smile, i guess. Into a current dream, real and palpable. Into a vulnerable me, strong in my accessibility. I am not floating, nor being foolish or dreamy. Still, this is fucking good.

It’s taken me time, but it’s good to feel that being myself is not that scary, it can even work. That feeling and enjoying and showing what i am is not that dangerous. Information is power, of course. So please choose the right ears. But feeling comfortable... home... just as calm as excited... mmm, delicious. Rum punch =D


I hate the world today...

All i have to do is dream...

I feel lost. Can’t find anything that reflects my feelings, and i swear i have heard like a thousand songs today. Ok, i may be exaggerating a tiny little bit, but have heard loads of songs. Fifties, eighties, nineties, soul, pop, rock, no matter what. But for heavy; no heavy today. And i have listened to meredith brooks’ bitch like twenty times (i mean it!). I guess it gets close. Changeable? me? oh, please...

Seems that i have to find a job right now. I mean another... those nice two women working in the hr department are planning to suck me soon. So i better go before they do. Thing is i don’t know where... don’t know what to do with my life, don’t know what i want, or what i like. I do not feel like waking up in the morning, in fact. I’d stay in bed all day long. And it wouldn’t make any change.

A friend of mine said,not long ago, that we are not 22 anymore, and we should be closer to know what the fuck we want, closer to what we actually want. Talking about work, am i closer than when i was 22? not in the least, i’m afraid. The only real difference is that i am much more conscious about the fact that it’s getting urgent...

I remember being in my early twenties. It wasn’t that different... or was it? well, maybe it was... I was studying, most of the time working too, and sure it was hard, sure the exams drove me mad, sure three or four months a year i was stuck at home, glued to the computer and stuff like that. But the rest of the time... hehehe... aaand there’s the summer holidays issue too: two to three months, do what you want, go where you please and manage to work there... I know studying is hard, and i’m not trying to underestimate it. I remember thinking oooff, this is crap, can’t stand it any more... i remember i wanted to start working, real life, u know... Seems i’m never satisfied. Seems i had an idealized idea of “real world”. Fuck it.

Now i’m not 22 anymore i’m older, but also wiser. I do many things i wouldn’t have dreamt of, and i’m pretty happy with myself, so much more than i used to, in any case. I don’t know. Would i go back to my early twenties? I know for sure i wouldn’t go back to my teens, but having 22 again is tempting, can’t hide it =)

Anyway, as i said, i do feel more and more comfortable with myself, and also with my age. It is enriching, growing up ;) And i wouldn’t change so many things of my current life so i guess i could not possibly go back to be 22 that way...

Talking about twenties... when i was twenty, i met a guy in his forties. He was next to my first boyfriend... well, second (after the one that looked much better dressed that naked, thick dick and all). He was a boss in the company i worked for at that moment, and the day before leaving the job i sent him an email. He happened to be quite unstable, depressive (now i think of it, probably almost every men i have been with has been depressive... bad bad bad), not tall, not very handsome... ooofff, sounds awful, doesn’t it? He had something, though. He was kind of adorable. Anyway, i was going abroad for the summer, and i told him i didn't want anything serious till i came back. He was not supposed to be phoning every two hours to tell me any stupid thing that could have crossed his mind. The day he asked me to tell him i loved him, then urged me to do so, then kept insisting on it, i realized i was wrong, so wrong. Again. Didn’t pick up the phone ever since, till i came back. By the way, i didn't tell him i loved him, because i didn't. Fortunately i didn't give him time enough... now i really think he was a little bit... insane... And going on with my exes, i got involved with a guy (whose name i don’t remember) that had everything: he was kind, nice, handsome, he had money, a great job, a pretty good house, he was attractive (though a bit short)... good in bed... i don’t know why i didn’t like him, in fact. Maybe because he was not depressive and weird, maybe because he was handsome or had so many good things... but the fact is that i got kind of bored the first morning. We kept meeting for a whole week, but i new it was about to finish. When i left i didn’t even give him my mobile phone #, or my email address. I never knew anything else about him. But every time i watch Nemo i remember lying on his carpet, watching that huge screen, eating popcorn and drinking good wine, laughing insanely and feeling his eyes glued on me. He was good.

Strike two

I used to be very big. Much taller than the other kids at school. And strong. When i was three going on four i started ballet. Not that i wanted to. It was the only thing i could do, being so small. I hated it. I had to go on for three months, then quitted. Next year i started judo. That suited me more. But i was not supposed to hurt anybody. I was not supposed to use it out of the classes. I was to be a good girl. I was one.

When i was about ten three or four boys were walking some steps ahead of me on the street. I think they were smaller than myself, though at least one of them was probably older. But the younger one was very, very young. He grabbed my hair and pulled, so i smiled, lift him from the ground just holding his arm. I didn't think the others could behave the way they did, and couldn't even imagine another way of behaving myself, facing such a strange situation, everybody smaller than myself and with a very young kid. But the others saw i didn't defend myself, so they attacked. Next thing i know i was lying on the floor. It felt like a very long time passed and a woman finally shouted out to them to let me go. I think i run back all the way, crying. They really hurt me (and my pride, gosh =D)

I didn’t tell anybody but my mother, because she was there and happened to be the “safe place” back then. I just didn’t talk about it and simply forgot it. Remembered it a long time later, casually. It still feels kind of uncomfortable.

The other day i exposed my doubts about the subject to a friend i really trust. The direction he took seems good to me: never hit, but defend yourself. I think i’ll note it down.

Much better than the opinion of this late relative ;) of mine: he happened to have taught his nephew how to hit. That’s the only way they wouldn’t be pissed off, he maintained. I don’t agree. I cannot help being against. I won’t teach my son how to hit. But i have to admit it could be useful...

Strike first

Maybe i was wrong there, maybe somebody should have taught us how to hit. Always strike first, and the hardest the better. If they don’t move again, they won’t hurt you anymore. Like in that book. This is the jungle, baby. And now i wonder what should i tell my son. As far, i stick to the old you shall not hit. The other day there was a little boy, older than mine, playing with a balloon around. He started hitting my son with the balloon, and when my son hit him, i told him that. Don’t hit anybody. But the boy went on hitting him hard (as hard as a balloon can be, it did not hurt him), and he looked at me, half blankly, half helpless, what can i do, he seemed to ask me. I told him not to play with people who hurt him after he’d told them not to do it. Get off them, i said. They’re just stupid. But next time the boy hit him and he hit back, i looked elsewhere and pretended not to have seen anything. Not very coherent, am i? Next time i rose i approached that kid and told him something like never ever hit this boy here, do u hear me? Slightly menacing ^-^ I don’t want my kid to hit, but if i pretend him to come tell me when he’s got a problem, i better show him i actually do something on the matter... besides, i’m a female mammal, mother and everything, what else can be more instinctive that showing my claws? =) After all, you know what being a bit of a lioness is like...

A bit of everything

Lately i have run into several really good books.

One of them i was rereading it. And i didn’t finish it. I don’t mean i didn’t really finish it... truth is, from time to time, i read the end before time (and at that moment sometimes i lose interest and just stop reading...), so i already knew what was gonna happen... but this time i liked it so much, and what happened was that i didn’t want it to be finished. So i started reading veeery slowly, just some pages in a row, then some phrases, then... just left it there, by my side, kindda handy, just in case, some half a page still to be read...
t was sad, very sad. You could be laughing all the time throughout the book, but there was always that bitter taste deep inside, just like when you laugh with a joke about dead people or when Roberto Benini is making faces for his son not to get too spattered by all the shit covering that beautiful life. You know it is sad. It’s just the way it is told.
I think this is one of my favourite books. Anagrams.

The second one is not that good, from my point of view, but it’s got really good phrases, and a very special way of writing. It’s all about a young man that decides not to get out of his room again. He prefers living out of the music he’s got, the lyrics of rock are a far much better school than rough and painful life itself. And better examples, too. He keeps talking and talking to himself, not making a lot of sense most of the times, or, at least, leaving everything very open for interpretations.
Its prose's got sth, either you hate it or love it, i guess... Like one of my teachers at university. I loved him. I used to have a boyfriend back then, but still i would have had sex with him. I mean that i would have quitted that boyfriend i had; i don't like being unfaithful, weird as it may sound coming from me =) But i can’t help it; i like men when i got absorbed by what they say (or sing, i love singers), no matter how ugly they may be, i can get to see sth special, even physically. This one was not precisely Brad Pitt...
And though i have finished that book, i still feel i haven’t, neither. There was this sentence, saying something like elephants know a lot about courage, you fuckin’ kidding me? they better do, such a big animal has nowhere to hide...

The third one, short randomly chosen stories about almost everything, life and death present all the time. A bit surreal, a bit so real... Feelings out in the open or stuffed into a bubble ready to explode. Tragic and dramatic but never taking delight on that; with the accent slightly placed on the bright side. Very sweet all through the harshness, simple and easygoing. Delicious.