See Lola Run

A Life Now

2010-10-24T13:49:00.001+02:00

Have you ever watched the hands of a ticking clock, trying to observe the movement of the minute hand? Wasn't it subtle? What about the hour hand? If you thought that was slow, imagine that every day, Mid-Atlantic ridge spreads it's rocky thighs a further .007 centimeters. The Himalayas grow, swelling with pride from below at a rate of 2.4 inches every year and Mount Everest is moving about 27 millimeters northeast in the same time.

The point?

Mountains will move, but it's going to take awhile and you won't be able to watch.

And me. Me, well. I'm moving at a rate somewhere between the hour hand and Everest, waiting for someone, anyone to turn their head long enough to look back to see me gone...

Reach

2010-07-12T20:53:00.000+02:00

I wait for you everywhere.
The underside of the cork
Beneath the stubborn lid
Behind the heavy door
and up
On the very top shelf

the end of a book
or a day
or a happy life
is where you'll find me.

the warm corner of the couch
asleep between the sheets
dreaming

but

there's a space
between me
and all this
where you exist

without you every space is empty.
unsurpassable.
nothing belongs to me.

Kenya - The Arrivals Terminal of Moi International Airport

2009-12-27T17:12:00.003+01:00

"What happened to your passport?"

This wasn't the first time I had been asked this.

"I bring it with me everywhere, it's my only identification so it just got a little... ruined" I retorted, looking hopefully at the Immigrations officer holding my embarassingly frayed and battered Italian passport, with the picture page divided nearly in two.

"This is not valid. I can't stamp this."

I let this digest for a minute.

"I'm sorry -- what are you saying?"

"I can't let you in this country with this, this..." he said dramatically, holding my poor passport up in front of him between the tips of his thumb and index finger, to stress the fact that the state of my passport utterly disgusted him.

Then came the ringer.

"We have to send you back."

Panic sets in.

Back!? 8 hours of flight? My dream of going to Africa? The months of planning that went into this trip?

"No. That's impossible..." I state "I can't go back."

My eyes welled up with tears.

The immigrations officer looked unnerved.

"Step aside"

I was brought into the immigrations office and asked to sit.

The "Immigrations Office" at MOI international airport is two small, dingy, rooms, one inhabited by my disgusted immigrations officer, and the other by someone else, which must do the other half of the work involved here, because they looked awfully short staffed. But then again, I thought -- they only have one runway.

My immigrations officer is rummaging around the room for something and not paying much attention to me.

"There must be something we can do..." I plead, and try to convey through my eyes somehow that fact that I have many EURO notes in my pocket and he would be welcome to as many of them as he would like if he would just stamp my goddamn crappy passport and let me spend my 8 planned days in Kenya. I had never bribed someone in my life, and frankly, I was a little nervous as to how to go about it, as this man looked awfully proud.

He sat down and glanced at me, unconcerned -- then fiddled around his desk for a pen. In his hand I saw a piece of paper with the following line, written in English, across the top:

"NOTICE TO PROHIBITED IMMIGRANT"

I started to get desperate. I can't go home, I say. I can't -- I'd do anything.

I choked a little on the word "anything" -- and Jacopo, my boyfriend who was sitting next to me uncomfortably through all of this (his passport, of course, was brand new and perfectly valid) -- shot me a look of "What?" as well. Later Jacopo would tell me that he noticed the immigrations guy casting long glaring stares at the pair of mirrored Ray-Bans dangling from his shirt collar.

The officer considered us for a moment -- made a great show of comparing mine and Jacopo's passports -- then, with a grunt, began crossing out nearly half of the lines on the "Notice to Prohibited Immigrant" and writing in several lines of his own.

"They should have never given you an entrance visa, otherwise I would not be able to help you. Now I am obliged to help you."

A bit of backstory here. I had purchased my Kenyan entrance visa at the airport in Rome. The Kenyan Embassy had set up a desk in the departures terminal, right next to our tour operators desk -- and it just seemed more convenient to get it done there, before leaving.

Thank, GOD. I think. Thank God we purchased that Visa before leaving.

Jacopo and I were then escorted back to Customs, where we were informed the the passport-checker-guy would "do what he could" for us.

The guy looked me in the eye, stamped the NOTICE OF PROHIBITED IMMIGRANT sheet with an entrance stamp (my passport was too unacceptable to stamp) and said, rather authoritatively,

"Give me 20 euros".

And that's how I was able to pay my way onto Kenyan soil, and Jacopo was able to walk away from the mess with his Ray-Bans intact. Soon I would find out that to get just about anywhere in this country would involve paying, and that 8 days later I would leave this country with my pockets entirely empty.

As we walked out of the airport, two men offered to carry our bags to the bus. Thinking they worked for our tour operator, I gratefully obliged.

Ten feet later, one of the men turns to us, with the big, broad classic Kenyan smile, and asks (in italian, mind you):

"MANCIA?"
("TIP?")

2010

2009-11-29T16:38:00.001+01:00

So.

1. We found a cleaning lady, and she started three days ago. I'm still trying to get over the fact that I believe she used our "cat shampoo wipes" to clean the dining room table, and have plans to hide them next time.
2. Kenya is booked, we leave the 16th at night are arrive back in Rome Christmas eve. Happy doesn't even begin to describe.

2010 is pending, arriving, creeping up. In these days where I feel like I spend much more time waiting for than doing -- i'm looking to the turn in year to begin a life more decided, more active, more foreward (make sense?).

So i'm going to plan trip B to exotic and less trodden location, i'm going to ask for a raise, i'm going to start looking for a bigger house, with a terrace, i'm going to become an auntie (jac's sister is pregnant), i'm going to cook more for jac (banana bread on the cooling rack as I type), i'm going to get my spanish (language) back, i'm going to live in Barcelona for a year, i'm going to go out more on the weekends.

But first of all, i'm going to Kenya.

Jac is on the couch with Yin and Yang (respectively, my nicknames for our white and black cats) watching a soccer game -- and it's not cold yet, and 2010 is almost here.

Pessime

2009-08-25T19:22:00.002+02:00

Not to sound like a pessimist but:

1. There is still no cleaning lady.
2. Kenya isn't booked yet and may be postponed to December.

But i've got to look at the bright side, we may be back sailing this weekend, Nerone has learned to sleep in the bed at night without biting/kicking/scratching and otherwise damaging habits.

Now if only Jac would learn that when you arrive to work at 09:00, generally it's a good idea to be out by 06:00. It's 07:30 and i'm still waiting for him to finish.

6:30 PM

2009-08-11T18:21:00.003+02:00

Orange labels on empty plastic tea bottles.
Cold cappuccino high from the late afternoon winding down.
My desk. And its many papers.
Start button. Shut Down. But not yet.
I would not like to Restart my System.
It's 6:23.
P.
M.
The shades are already down.
The server is down.
The air conditioner isn't down.
Yet.
7 minutes pass.
The number you have dialed cannot be reached.

I cannot be reached.

Adventure

2009-07-28T16:40:00.002+02:00

Life got a little disturbing for awhile. My 9-6 was whittling away at me and when I got home the night there would be just enough time to get a set amount of home and personal maintenance things done before passing out for the night, amid our three cats, weary for that 7AM alarm.

Then there was when I starting pushing for Thailand, then Kenya... or when we decided to get a cleaning lady. Perhaps it was cat # 3 that looked at us with kitten eyes and we just couldn't say no and welcomed him into our tiny appartment, causing the number of cats to outnumber human inhabitants. Or when Jac's friend proposed a 20hour sailboat sea-crossing to Sardegna and we said Yes (we leave Thursday night)... well I guess that's when things started looking up. It was about the saying Yes and just being open to the next thing, however scary (20 hours at sea!, 3 cats!, 3rd world countries!) or unexpected.

And last night as we got whimsical off cheap white wine and ate raw melon off the rind in the garden, surrounded by citronella candle tiki lamps and cat-trampled flowers, I decided I was very happy with Yes.

Kenya

2009-07-24T00:16:00.004+02:00

Mom & Sister left some days ago, and it's back to me, and Jac, and the cats and trying to think of where to get away to this summer.

I think we've got it. Kenya. Somewhere between reading about the tourist-assaulting monkeys that swing across highways on rope bridges and walking the film "My Africa" in Italian -- I fell in love. And decided that our next trip will be there.

And I need it, I really need it, because since Dublin (Which was like a three month funeral. My funeral, probably.) i've lost faith in the classic european city's ability to charm me with its alleyways, pretentious culture and peculier accents. I need something different. Really different. I want to be in that constant fix with my surroundings, constanting thinking -- why and how and what if and challenging the 'way things are' or have always been, what i've gotten too used to for at least three years that I have been living in Rome. Seriously. I'm forgetting how 'different' things can be.

I think, what i'm most afraid of, is that I won't want to come home.

But that's what return tickets are for.

She's got the whole world...

2009-07-07T18:37:00.002+02:00

Tomorrow around 03.55PM GMT + 1 time Jac & I will arrive at Fiumicino airport in a Ford Fiesta to pick up my mother and sister from the airport.

Don't underestimate just how 'scoinvolgente' this is for me (or how often I now find myself substituting italian for english words that have escaped me) -- my Italian world, my Rome world was just for me, not many people from my where-I-grew-up world have stepped foot in it. It sort of makes me feel like i'm in a video game, and none of this is real. My New York reality was one thing, but my life here -- my jac life, my kitties life, my work life, my city life -- it's something that noone back in NYC knows much about or could possibly imagine. And maybe it's not just because I only call once a month or so, if that.

Maybe it's because I don't want them to.

But the world pushes on and so they are coming, and I will be truly happy to see them and show them the Italy that the Discovery Travel channel tapes. They will meet Nerone, our new kitten that was rescued from the motor of a car which Jacopo insists we cannot keep though he's been with us almost 3 weeks now -- they will see our wood, brass and marble house and old, cumbersone ivy garden that has been converted into a Kitty Alcatraz with poles and nets to keep them from entering the Big Bad World... they will see the Colosseum lit up rust and green at night while a bum plays the star spangled banner on his electric guitar below for euros, and the kids with Peroni beers sit on the old, broken and dented Ancient Roman cobblestones to listen. We will eat. By God we shall eat, pasta, lots of pasta, with fresh fish, fresh tomatoes, parsley and basil from the garden. We'll eat in the garden under the saffron tree. We will go to Ischia and ride motorboats into blue grottoes and gape at Vesuvius and think about all of the specials we've seen on TV about Pompeii.. and hope the damn mountain doesn't blow its top again -- and then it's to Florence and the Duomo and the (luscious) David and the wine country.

We'll get around.

Befana

2009-01-07T00:58:00.002+01:00

Laying in bed with laptop perpendicular, waiting for Jac to finish working on his new website but liking the fact that since we've discovered we can hack internet from the elderly care home next door, we can be on the internet and working simultaneously, though that requires one person to use the bed as a desk (me, obviously). Alaska is sleeping on the sheep-rug at Jac's feet. Jolie is outside (the bedroom, not house) because if she comes in, she'll pee on any soft surface available. Ate polenta today at jac's mom's with Jac's family. Jac continues to insist that i'm 'aso' i.e. asocial. I don't agree.

Back to work tomorrow. Been sick for 5 days with something that involves constant fever. I'm still coughing.

I'll be happy for winter to be over.

It's been a long day.

2008-12-22T16:12:00.003+01:00

I guess I've been waiting to post. Waiting for the permission to post really. Emotional permission, for one, to write about the death of Flip. Emotional permission that, even today, almost 3 months after his death, I begin to regret giving myself as I write these lines. To be simple, Flip was run over by a car on the main street near my home. It happened in front of Jac & I. He followed us out. We were going to return a film a few blocks away. I saw the car and as soon as I did, even though it was far down the street I knew what could happen and it did. We watched him die, and to this day it's still hard for me to walk down the same street and I bawled at a party when I unexpectedly saw the woman who gave him to us.

Some weeks after his death, in part to help fill a deepening void caused by his death, in part because it was awful to come home to Jolie who has been home alone all day and had that deperate 'i need attention' look in her eyes, I decided to get another kitten. I finally found one, through the same woman that gave us Jolie. She had been abandoned in Lampedusa, an island in the south of Italy near Sicily. By contrast to Flip, she is all white -- but she shares in a lot of the personality traits that Flip had and has been a joy in the house and has helped us heal. Her name is Alaska. She prefers to be held tummy up, and she nurses on Jolie's arm when she wants to play the baby. She is still tiny, even though my now she's about 4 months old -- and Jac and I absolutely adore her and Jolie. We get along well, the four of us.

The other permission is to write about work, which I cannot, as the changes are still 'in sviluppo' but I expect to write about it after the second week of January.

Then there's me and Jac and home -- all of which is going well. There's talk of weddings and rings floating about -- nothing concrete. It's pretty to think about, but as much as it can be fun to imagine and plan --- fantasy talk makes me nervous, especially after concrete conversations tend toward negating all the fantasy. So for now we are good. We laugh more than ever now, we joke around -- something that seems really simply but just due to language barriers until recently was rarely possible. We're still working out our boundaries, we're still learning, there's a lot left to learn... but everything we believe we know leads the way for only optimism and that's something to be grateful for.

I'll write again soon .... something more specific and less of a summary but I suppose something typed out is better than silence and maybe it will give me the incentive I need to write more...

If you haven't seen it you'll be grateful.

2008-10-06T14:13:00.000+02:00

Slow down, Lola.

2008-09-22T16:21:00.000+02:00

Really nice weekend. It was cold, so there was a lot of the cuddling thing going on. Slipper. Kitties. TV and blankets. Limoncello and pasta. We bought two wooden tables and chairs for the garden. Flip has turned back to his sweet self after a whole week of being angry at us for bringing the 'streghetta' into his once-peaceful abode.

We had friends for dinner on Saturday, went to a friends birthday on Friday. Got a surprise visit from Jac's mom on Sunday and she brought us a sugardish (one of many 'pensierini' she's bought for us).

Now it's Monday and i'm back at work and i'm looking forward to more slippers tonight, cuddling and the kitties, pasta and limoncello... we even have a bottle of white wine left.

ps. I got a bob-cut.

Puntina, Pallina, Musetta, Streghetta, Gattina, Carinissima: Jolie

2008-09-18T15:53:00.000+02:00

So Jolie is the latest member of our little clan -- would you believe there is 4 of us?

Her and Flip, of course, do not get along at all. They don't seem to mind sharing a dish of food or a litter box but they can't seem to share the same cubic meter without going into a hissing frenzy. Suprisingly they manage to stay out of each others way, when they aren't pouncing on each other... so the days are quiet. Mostly.

But with us, me and Jac that is, she's an absolute sweetheart, coccolona, super cuddly and soft.

Here is an album to enjoy: http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2137951&l=85ef4&id=16103479

Note that in the pictures in which Flip and Jolie seem to be peacefully laying together --- i've put them together while they slept. The second they realize where they are....

hssss.

Flip, Capriola, Micio, Sorcio, Cucciolo, Amorino...

2008-09-08T16:57:00.001+02:00

Just some of the many names per day I call my cat, Flip. I thought an update might be merit worthy and so i'm giving one -- especially in highlight of some recent, exciting news. Which i'll get to. Just keep reading.

So Flip has adjusted quickly and well to his new home. Yeah, it HAS been only about a week and a half since he's been allowed out to 'wander' all by himself but he's proved a faithful cat and has always come home. After all the sweat and tears we went through putting netting up all along our garden only to watch Flip scale this netting in the matter of 2 seconds the first time we let him in the garden and turned our backs -- it became very obvious that our efforts were futile and that Flip had the upper hand. Cats can get out of anything. Perhaps not a steel enclosed case but I wouldn't bet on it -- and I think it'd be a bit inhumane to try it.

Comunque--ahem- it wasn't easy. I went chasing after him the first 10 times he got out and kept bringing him home until one day I said "basta" and let my little Flip run off on his own.

I would have never have made it had it not been for living on a Private Street.

So the verdict? Flip is happy with his indoor/outdoor cat life. Really happy. He comes home all cuddly and sweet and exhausted and only wanting to be coddled by us. He's calmer, he's sweeter --- he's healthy and fit.

He still spends most of his time in the house --- at first it wasn't that way but I guess after he had a taste of "Liberty" he chilled out a bit. He greets us at the door when we come home and ----- he's the cute part --- cries when we leave. And now that he can get out of the garden he follows us when we walk away, crying.

Because Jac and I often "walk" away instead of driving this has become a big problem. We don't want to walk him out of the street, onto the main road --- so we've taken to keeping our walks short and closing him up in the house while we are gone. The only other option is taking the scooter or the car (to make for a quick escape so he can't follow us) --- but often we're only walking to something a few minutes away so it's a waste of gas.

For now I find it really cute to have my little black kitty trailing us because he adores us and wants to be with us so much --- but it's going to technically become a problem if we hope to keep him away from the street. We've thought about getting him a lease so we can start taking him with us --- but I don't know --- you might say cat's aren't made for leashes but I tell you with my most serious face on that Flip is in many ways not like a cat at all --- and much more like a dog (in that he plays fetch, rolls over and other inexplicable feats that we never actually trained him to do....).

Ideas are welcome.

So here's the exciting new news. Now that we have the space, and a garden (and lots of love to give) --- we've decided to get our long awaited second cat! We're thinking that she (yes it will be a femminucia) and Flip could take care of each other during the day. Friday we'll make some calls and hopefully go pick one up. Rome has no shortage of "gattini" (little cats) --- so finding one in the local classifieds will be a cinch. A lot of the ads are for boxes of kittens that have been abandoned on sides of roads or similar --- which sadly happens a lot here.

Anyway --- it's like planning a second child! Jac and I actually sat down and had a serious talk about it the other day over a beer. We've actually been talking about it and waiting for the right moment since we got Flip --- and now feels like a good time .... so we're ready for the challenge.

And you may say --- why a challenge?

Well i'll ask you to do as our "cat manual" says and think about a 2 month old kitten like a 2 year old child. With claws. That can climb curtains.

Think about it....

Sarah Palin

2008-09-07T13:07:00.000+02:00

So.

Is it just me, or did anyone else who watched Sarah Palin, Republican Vice Presidential candidate and governer (small town mayor?) of Alaska --- feel like they were sitting in the Comedy Cellar with a salty margherita listening to a witty, well-timed comic make their 10 minute spiel?

'Cause that what I got.

And they say now the dem's are on the defensive. And that we don't do well on the defensive. And how the heck is it that nobody seems to see through McCain's obvious playing off the Hillary nomination loss when he selected Palin as his vp candidate --- are we really that easy? Is it enough to be a woman and be funny and have been miss, oh what'sit -- Alaska? And I like Alaska. I do. I have an ex and a friend both from there and they are great people and Alaska is like the Switzerland of the US. Neutral territory ---- but uh, I was convinced it was a blue state?

What sort of games is McCain getting at? I want to refuse to believe that Obama's lead was 'cut in half' just because there are women who wanted to see another Woman in power, whomever that Woman may be --- I mean --- she just go introduced to us, we know so little about her and Obama's lead is cut in half? HALF!?

If elections were really determined by how good a candidate could really be in leading America, these things just wouldn't happen.

So really it's a popularity contest, as it has often been. And I think Miss America has a leg up. A very long pretty leg.

And don't even get me started on Italian politics.

Where I Work

2008-08-26T15:12:00.000+02:00

I haven't gone in too much depth about what exactly it is that I do, where exactly I do it and how. And basically it goes like this.
At the end of December of 06 I stepped into my now-boyfriend's office, in which my now-boss was then-renting a desk. They're friends.

And I interview to be a tour guide. And do to things always going how they should but never as I believe -- I end up as the company secretary. The only other person beside the boss working in the office.

Then --- maybe it's because I was in the office every day until 9PM -- or maybe it was because my boss had a distinct vision of the future he wanted to create for the company and I was just there and willing to make it happen alongside him --- maybe cause I really needed the money and needed to prove myself to get it --- we grew. We grew a lot. Mostly at my prompting, we hired now people. Astra, Emma, Cagins, our first graphic designer.... Then the ideas never stopped. And nor did the hiring.

What do we do? We RUN the tour business in Rome. Not hotels. Not flights. Just tours. We conceive them, we design them and we sell them. We hand select our guides and train them in the history of all things Rome. At the moment we have about 15-20 live and active tours running in the city of Rome with 3 more about to go live (I say 15-20 because that depends what you consider a tour).

We are a completely self sufficient company. We have two in house graphic designers and one in house programmer, all who work full time and make up our adored IT team. There's the director, Simone -- my only boss. There are three 2nd level managers of which I am one. There's Julie, our On-Site manager who is mother to all of our 20-30 (the number must change daily) guides and coordinators --- who trains them and deals with them and make sure their job gets done on site. Then there is Emma, my dear friend and our company Spokeswoman --- fluent in Italian and English and French, who had a way with the clergy and manages to weedle deals and contracts out of all of the venues that collaborate with us.

Then there is me. I manage Operations and Distributors under the title "Project Manager". I invented that title a long time after I realize that for no two days in a row was my job going to be the same. So I needed something all-encompassing. I have a team of five girls who work under me and we manage everything from database system design to bookings to finances to --- well anything that could involve the use of a computer, a phone and/or a fax machine. I am also the official spokesperson to/from the IT team.

In summation --- I love my job, the work we do and the people I work with. We're a young international, multi-lingual team of entrepreneurs and idea-ists spreading the gospel of good tours in Rome -- which, frankly, didn't really exist before we showed up on the scene.

Then that's it. If any of you find yourselves in Rome, consider one of our tours. We've hand picked the best venues and themes and can assure American style quality that most Italian companies often can not :-)

www.darkrome.com
www.myvaticantour.com
www.mycolosseumtour.com

A Month

2008-08-25T17:48:00.000+02:00

I apologize.
It's been a bit since my last post, but as you can imagine -- so much has happened.

Jac & I moved into the new apartment, and we just came back last week from Sardegna -- one week of vacation which is all we'll probably get until late fall. I was promoted, did I mention this? And life has just been caught up in that lovely whirlwind of change-all-happening-at-once. It really is true what they say about that.

So let's start from the start.

Sardegna: Put a Jac and a Kae on a motorcycle with a tent and just enough clothing to wear everything only twice and send them to one of the most beautiful isles of the meditteranean and you are asking for ... something. Most memorable moment was laying post-lovemaking in the tent while it rained listening to the rain and the agitated sea against the rocks just a toss behind the old blue fabric lighter where the sun has been burning it through for all the years of use and the dim light of the late afternoon and jac beside me and thinking "I don't think I could have written this better than it is happening".

And we saw some really pretty beaches.

Home: I am still having trouble conceptualizing why there is still a positive balance in my bank account whatwith all Jac and I have been spending, albeit less than we originally hoped to spend -- as we are using my old ikea couchbed (which is really just a mattress divided into two parts, not one of those fold-up contraptions) and Jac's old Ikea Klippan (nowhere else on earth do couches cost so little) -- both of which we hope to have the money to replace in the future -- but other than that everything surrounding us in new and fresh and just sort of adds to the experience, and that feeling flowing between us of a fresh start --- not like we needed one --- but it's nice to have one, and to share that. No more miccia corta. Lot's of disgustingly goofy and lovely dovey stuff going on. Stuff that'd probably make you gag. Oh yes and we treated ourselves to a 42" Plasma flatscreen. Did we need it? No. But sometimes you have to treat yourself to something you want...

Job: I now manage all my companies operations and get paid at a price that's right to do it. It means more responsibility. It means being superavailable for midnight cocktails with owners of big companies. But it also means having a more decided position in the company where I can glow, and for that i'm glad.

Various: The news has been too sad to watch lately (sampling: woman throws herself in front of the a train in rome -- 5th time this happens since i've moved here, accident that kills two entire families on the a4, accident today that kills two young children on the a14, both involving huge tractor/trailors, two plane crashes -- the one in madrid and the one in that country that begins with a K that i'm too lazy to look up right now and could never spell on my own). Jac and I watch the news frequently and often look at each other with a sense of fear that comes from living in a happy little bubble when you feel that disconnectedness from all the bad that is going on around you and a helplessness and a wondering of how long we can stay detached.

Not to end on a bad note, or anything.

So there it is. I've been having trouble finding time to write and i've been sleeping away afternoons but I'm happy.

The Bracelet

2008-07-23T16:08:00.000+02:00

I should mention that a recent event marked the end of an era.

I got my bracelet back from the Spaniard. I'd been waiting for it for so long that it seemed anti-climactic ... I'd expected some sort of emotional outburst. I mean we are talking about someone I was going to uproot my life for, which for better or worse I believed I would marry. We never got that far, as the story goes.

But he's had my bracelet for 3 years. And he finally found it and sent it back via delayed swiss post with swiss chocolate and a little swiss calender and a nice letter. Nothing romantic or creepy. Just a note wishing me well and apologizing for the delay. It had a note of closure to it, it seemed as though he understood as well as me that our contact was about to drop off -- that we were going to finally begin to fade slowly from each others lives without all the anger and angst caused by the awful breakup and the several heartbreaks that ensued.

In like a lion, out like a lamb. Considering all the fire of the past years of speaking, not speaking, seeing each other again, twice -- it seems strange to me that it should end with this silent letter. No voice. We haven't spoken on the phone for several months.

And I don't believe we will in those coming.

The Miccia gets more Lunga

2008-07-21T18:58:00.000+02:00

I am about to leave work for the day but I felt inclined to report that in 10 days Jac & I move into the house of dreams and these past few days have been really lovely with him, no needless angry outbursts :-)

We even tripped out to lake Martignano yesterday... it was a nice relaxing day just to two of us. Much needed.

Love is good.

La Miccia Corta

2008-07-18T17:53:00.001+02:00

Living together is HARD.

I've told Jac that lately he's got a short fuse with me -- you know, a quick - to - anger attitude -- and basically that translates into "hai la miccia corta" which would be understood by an unknowing italian as "you have small genitalia".

They always take things so personally here.

I don't know. Jac is moody and I can't seem to do 100% of the things right in his eyes all the time --- but my saving hope is that at the moment we are not in an ideal situation... there are another 13 days left before we are allowed to move house so we've just got to find someway to survive the next two weeks without too much damage. It is looking to be difficult.

I just need him to humor me with a miccia a bit more LUNGA -- ya know?

Life goes on though. We neutered Flip this past weekend which has turned out to be a traumatic experience for Jac & I (sure we complain about how he claws at us and bites our feet... but we actually just really love him for the crazy cat he is) --- but we've been noting down to minute details any and all behavioral changes we believe have been brought about by the --- uh --- change. We want our Flip to be just as he was or would be...

But in the end we really did the right thing. We weighed the reasons for months before deciding. The new house has a garden that is really easy to escape from -- and we can't have him populating the neighborhood with little Flips, as cute as they would be -- Rome already has a HUGE stray cat problem -- and not enough homes to place them in--- best not to take part in producing more. Also because we want to get a little friend for Flip, a kitten --- which we hope to introduce a month or two after we move in to the new place. Cats don't like too much change all at once. And since it's going to be a female kitty we don't want any procreating going on there either.

And he'll be less likely to want to escape from us -- that's important.

So there it is.

Other things... i'm just tired and want things to stop HAPPENING for awhile so I can enjoy the summer. But with changes as work, which i'll elaborate on in a more appropriate moment -- seem to indicate that things are about to get crazier.

There's a whole summer ahead ....

Soldi

2008-07-10T12:24:00.000+02:00

So. Upon the -shocking- recognition of just how much mtha-fr*cking soldi (money) we're going to have to pull out of our you know wheres to pay our rent for the next four years of our lives (not to mention to furnish the damn place!) -- i've been working in the evenings as a tour guide for my company to make some extra cash so I can still go out to eat 3-4 nights a week.

Yeah, you heard me right. Go out to eat. 3-4 nights a week. Which, when I think of it, is pretty incredible considering that is something i'd never do in the states. Once a week max. Perhaps some take out.

But i'm taking about restaurant dining experience, wine -- the whole sha-bang. And I guess we permit it to ourselves because we both have limited culinary abilities -- and the food is amazing here in the restaurants -- no canned stuff -- mostly fresh ingredients -- and since we don't club often or frequent bars it's just what we allow ourselves for our 'going out' times.

But we're probably going to have to cut back a bit. At least until we have a real couch.

In the meantime I am going nuts cleaning jack's place constantly. You'd be amazed at how much of a mess two people can make! But I am enjoying it -- I like the idea of 'taking care' of him.

The switch off is that he has to sweep and mop the floors and clean the cat's litter box. Garbage we take out together. Laundry sometimes him sometimes me. I do the rest.

I think that's fair. I hate sweeping.

A Separate Peace

2008-07-08T15:11:00.000+02:00

Moved in to Jac's. All my few things tucked into nooks and crannies in his house. A candle on a shelf, a bra in the laundry, the medicine cabinet a bit fuller, new sheets. I'm trying to be discreet. I never wanted to move into his 'space' -- that can be dangerous. So i've limited my 're-decorating' to making sure the bathroom is clean and changing the sheets on his bed. I've moved a few things over. I clean a lot. I clean the kitchen every night, because i'm a disastrous cook so he takes care of dinner. We switch off on laundry. I try to not complain too much when he turns on the TV before, during and after dinner. It's nice but it's not our home. Home is 19 days away on a high-rent private street near Piazza Vescovio.

Apart from the lack of autonomy -- that being, Jac lives so far away that I depend on him to get home at night, besides I don't have keys -- we were enjoying this first month of semi-co-habitation. He tells me he doesn't miss his privacy as much as he thought he would. I think that's good news.

And so we beat on. Still no word on whether we can really afford a vacation this summer -- even if its in a tent -- or whether we can even afford the furniture we need to make the house liveable. But something always comes up. I'm doing some tours this month to make up for the new, higher budget. I'm thinking of other ways to bring in some money.

Mostly I just need a raise.

But thats another story.

Life is nice right now.

In other news, Flip lost his first tooth this week and Jacopo got slightly frustrated with me because he couldn't find the lid to a pot when he was making pasta because I put them away separately after doing the dishes one night. I picked up his dirty socks from the bedroom floor and threw them in the laundry hamper and he put the laundry out to dry. All experiences that make us feel a bit like newlyweds... and it's a warm feeling.

I wonder how it will feel when we actually are?

Playing House

2008-07-02T13:10:00.000+02:00

So. We've found it. For real this time.
Though, being as we sign the contract tomorrow I feel it may be unsafe to begin talking about it.

But who cares!

I'm just too damn excited.

After coming to a conclusion that our price range was not going to get us what we wanted --- we raised the 'stakes' and went to go see an apartment with the base rent already 50 euro outside of our already raised budget.

But it was worth it.

It's on a private street (translation: less of a chance we'll be robbed, lots of parking spots, silence) in one of the nicest residential areas in Rome (without exagerating) not isolated -- with a piazza (Piazza Vescovio) within 2 minutes walking and lots of shops, restaurants, supermarkets, pharmacies, cinema etc.

There is also one of the biggest, most beautiful, greenest parks in the city of Rome right next to us: Villa Ada.

As is the park wasn't enough, it has a garden with two trees in it that is somewhat small... but it is a garden nonetheless and an outdoor space is important. There is enough space for a table and chairs and there are old vines growing thick on the fence that are a gorgeous lush green...

The insides are beautiful: BIG living room with shiny deep brown marble flooring and lots of windows that lead directly out into the garden, an entrance with arches, a completely brand-spanking-new kitchen -- IKEA -- very modern with reds and whites and silver with a small prop up table -- all never used...

Brand new bathroom, also never used --- spacious --- shower big enough for two --- tiling in white and off white with a clean, bright look.

Bedroom with a hardwood floor, armoire built directly into the wall that is HUGE -- so there is tons of storage space.... to put all of our "stuff" away... window looking onto the garden.

We plan on furnishing it will all modern pieces... a pretty apartment warrants pretty furniture.

We move in August 1 but we may have the keys before then.

This is going to cost us a ton of money, and i'm worried about the cat getting out of the garden. But we'll find a way.

What a relief.

Sleep-in.

2008-06-23T16:48:00.000+02:00

Wish there was something to say about the weekend but there is not. Jacopo was sick and so we stayed in, in bed, all weekend. I'm hoping next weekend we'll get out and into the sun --- though it's just a tad too hot out for comfort these days.

Still no apartment. Jac being sick hasn't helped -- as we haven't been able to make any appointments. Tomorrow out comes Portaportese, fingers crossed fingers crossed.

But as for a "what's been up lately" have I mentioned i've been living at Jac's place since July 15? I kinda just stopped sleeping at home entirely. And it is very lovely. But now we actually have to move my stuff, i.e. clothes and other items of living importance and try to make a 'place' for it at jac's place. That's going to be interesting.

One week of cohabitation and so far so good. We're not at each others throats.

Yet...

More interesting stuff to come.

In the News

2008-06-20T11:55:00.001+02:00

Because of the new Angels and Demons movie our company is in the news!

Check it out --- the tour guide they interview is Angelo -- who was hired around the same time as me.

Not so yummy in my tummy.

2008-06-19T16:30:00.000+02:00

I have the half-inkling to lay off apartment-hunt talk until we sign a contract -- otherwise i'll just be dragging you all down with me through the continuous sludge of delusion.

So today I want to talk about my complex relationship with food.

I don't have the best one. Not that i'm unhealthy -- there are just a lot of things that I cannot or do not eat. Let's make a list shall we?

Most fruits: Unless it's a berry, and not poisonous -- it's going to make my cheeks and mouth turn red, itchy and rashy. Then, if the fruit is strong enough -- it starts to make my throat close. Funnn.

Many nuts: see above. Though peanuts seem to have a much milder reaction. Especially when all mushed up into lovely peanut butter!

All meats, with many exceptions: I consider my self a no-red-meat-a-tarian --- but I do, at times, as my only red meat exception, eat thinly sliced prosciutto, and only if I get every itty bit of fat off it ---- not because I worry about gaining weight but because I don't like the squishy texture. Also I can't eat much of it --- I taste the iron (blood, meat) too much (my palate is extremely sensitive to that taste) and it starts to make me feel sick. Tiny quantities.

White meat is another story. Basically I won't eat white meat unless its perfectly boned and cleaned of any sort of vein, skin or other ligament that serves as a reminder of its once-alive status. If it gets chewy at all I spit it out. It also has to be the color white. I don't eat pork (except see prosciutto exception above)

For example, i'll eat a nicely grilled chicken breast thats been cleaned well and doesn't have any ick to it --- or boneless chicken wings from a quality place --- but you won't see me touch buffalo wings -- or any sort of leg. Let's not even get into internal organs.

I like mushrooms, but I won't touch the italian delicacy "porcini" mushrooms, because my boss told me that often they have worms in it -- which is true.

There is no vegetable other than that which I will not eat. With the exception of those filled with bugs/worms and other squirming, moving things.

As for fish -- same rule about the "ick" -- if its got bones in it, or skin on it -- or -- and this is a common one here in Italy -- EYES on it --- then I don't want to go near it.

But I will eat a freshly steamed lobster and crack it open myself. Something about the hideousness of it makes it almost seem fake and when you crack it open it's all pretty and white.

I'll eat mussels -- but only if they aren't large -- meaning big and swollen like orange tongues --- and same goes for clams. You can never give me oysters.

I'm working on my relationship with sushi. Some of it is too squishy for me. And i've just learned to appreciate thinly sliced smoked salmon. It helps that it is thinly sliced.

I will eat a fillet of fish as long as it's all pure white.

With my grains I have no problems.

I'm banging this all out in type because jac & I got into an argument about it the other day --- he expressed his opinion that he felt my pickyness was me being child-like and not being open to trying new things.

I believe that my many taste 'aversions' are simply a psychological fact of me. Many kinds of food disgust me, but not because i'm simply picky and don't care to try.
I've tried many of these foods and they make me sick to my tummy. I understand that is a psychosomatic reaction, but I also accept that it is not something I can change without a really good psychologist perhaps? Any way I can't change it on my own by just 'making an effort' as Jack touted I should do --- it's simply who I am. And I don't believe i'm a defected person for it. And I don't really believe there is anything abnormal about it. And I don't believe I should have to change it -- even though I understand at time it can be a frustration to Jac or others around me.

What do you guys think?

T.K.O.

2008-06-17T18:21:00.000+02:00

And we lost this apartment, too.

This time the landlord decided he wanted to sell, and not rent.

Che palle.

Jac & I were probably right in that starting the 'search' so early with the ultimate last-minute move out date being 1 November 2008 -- to give us plenty of time to find the 'right' place.

Man I didn't think it would be so difficult.

Grmph.

Ups, there's another one.

2008-06-16T14:51:00.000+02:00

So we found yet another apartment.

It's ideal except

a) no terrace, just two nicely sized balconies.

b)the price is a bit weighty. 950 a month plus 110 condiminium fees (which includes heat) + all the 'bolette' gas etc etc

We made known we are interested without specifying the price which we hope in all good will to get down to 900.

The floors are marble, not the prettiest of all marbles but heck marble is considered a huge luxury in america and so we should be so lucky (although here it is pretty standard, while hard wood flooring is considered a luxury). The kitchen is already furnished except there is no oven, though there is space to install one should be wish. Jac thinks no, I thinks yes.

The living room is divided into two "ambiente" one side for the "sala da pranzo" or "dining room" and the other to create a living room, complete with couches, large flatscreen TV etc.

The bedroom is 3.9 m x 3.9 m which aint small and most importantly the kitchen and bathroom both have pleasant tiling.

The guy we spoke to says he will call us tomorrow.

There's a "cantina" too. I wonder what we'd do with that...

Talk, talk, talk.

2008-06-12T12:20:00.000+02:00

I've been waiting several days to have 'a talk' with Jac about a few things that have been bothering me. I managed to get most of them out in an hour long cell-phone conversation on Monday night that ended up costing me 10.00 euro and instead of trying to resolve anything then and there we decided it would be better to talk in person about it.

But that seems to be lost on us, as i've seen him twice since that conversation and it seems my worries have righted themselves just by virtue of me mentioning them.

To a mixture of math and circumstance I ended up at his place last night -- and we ended up having a really nice, connected, peaceful and pleasant evening together -- even though the pasta con pesto we made was disgusting and I had one of those "my head is about to explode into a million tiny pieces" headaches.

Sometimes just talking is a way of resolving.

Even if you've never reached a spoken resolution.

Today Jac is going to tell "Le labbra" (this is what we call the evil landlady because she has very obviously been taking collegen injections to her lips) that we cannot pay more than 900,00 and if she wants to give it to us for that we will take it.

We'll see. We're pretty "deciso".

Woe is Apartment Hunting

2008-06-11T17:56:00.000+02:00

The evil land-lady witch of the Montesacro apartment called us today to say if we wanted it for 950,00 euro a month instead of 900,00 its ours.

We said no.

Meno male, quelle piastrelle erano veramente brutte brutte...

Portaportese & I have a hot date Friday morning at 9AM, with a nice cup of cappucino and a hi-liter.

She'll be a-comin' down the mountain when she comes.

2008-06-10T16:48:00.001+02:00

I've been trying to scoop out a post on Lisbon but somehow until how I haven't managed to. Maybe it's the combined stress of EVERYTHING coming down on my head in these last two weeks (apartment, surgery, general feelings of unease) that I don't really want to bother.

So i'm going to "adjourn" for a bit more and hope it comes to me before the memories move on too much. I prefer writing freshly, though.

What it comes down to is that tomorrow we find out if we got our Montesacro apartment and i'm nervous for a lot of things, if it's really the right place for us, if financially it will work out, the comittment of buying all of this furniture together etc. etc.

I still can't get over how ugly the tiles are.

But i'm just really anxious to move out of my current room and start to share a space with Jacopo -- from the start even, while living apart has been appropriate for this first year of our relationship -- it's really becoming a big pain in the culo. Things got better when I moved closer to him and to my work here at Piazza Bologna -- and it will be eliminated entirely starting the first night of our dinner together in the new place. As sparsely furnished as it's gonna be for a few months... I can't really say where (floor? bed?) we shall be eating that first dinner.

That's in 20 days. My how time flies.

That's IF we get the place.

Tomorrow will tell all. And i'll write it first here.

I'm just looking forward to tonight and cuddling up and venting out in Jac's arms and just trying to let go of all of the awful stress of these past few weeks and relax and talk with him... I really just need to 'come down' off it, you know? And being with him is always the best thing for that.

Sigh.

Update on Flip

2008-06-09T18:19:00.000+02:00

It's been a while since i've spoken of the cat.

And i'd like to let ya'll know he's gotten HUGE and beautiful. We've got him eating science diet "Hill's" which is super-de-duper fancy scientific cat foody stuff -- so his coat is super slick and shiny and black and his greenish-yellow eyes are big, piercing and curious.

He loves to surprise attack from behind doors as we enter rooms, has figured how to open up every damn door in the house and when we come home from a long day at work he likes to be picked up and cradled like a little baby while he purrs and arches his back.

He has a love for all things wires and has a little stuffed cat toy he ports around in his mouth wherever he goes and that he loves to play (gasp!) fetch with.

At night when we try to read he plants himself between us and our books and purrs until we cuddle him and stop reading. He bites our feet when they stick out from under the comfortors and when he's very sleepy he'll climb into the tiny space between Jac and I as we sleep and pass right out.

He's a lovely cat.

I can't wait to get another one :-)

Jac is kind of holding off on the idea but I shall have my way!

Oh, wonderful.

2008-06-09T15:01:00.000+02:00

I've been sick with a cold all weekend so despite my best efforts, and tons of optimism -- I didn't get to do much of anything.

There was a rather lively lunch on Sunday at Jac's parents place with his french relatives. Halfway through I joked to him "So is this was our family dinners going to be like?" -- imagining my american relatives and italian kids.

But my kids will be tri-lingual.

But let's not talk 5 years down the line.

So the appartment situation is that after a failed attempt to rent the little apartment for a more reasonable price (the one the con artist showed us -- we got in touch with the real owner) -- we called back "The Lips" i.e. the owner-ess of the original apartment we saw and liked -- the empty one with ugly tiles.

But it's our best bet. And I kind of like the idea of having an entire apartment, completely filled with all hand-picked IKEA furniture -- according to our specific tastes.

I've never had that before.

So we talked to her but she says she has someone interested and she is waiting for them to bring in a pay slip -- and so she can't tell us anything until Wednesday.

So Wednesday, if she says so--- the place is ours and we can start fixing it up to hopefully move in by July 1.

If not, we'll just say it wasn't meant to be and Friday its back to the torn n' tattered pages of Portaportese.

Apartment hunting in Rome is so stressful.

I just want it to be over so I can start the fun part :-) -- interior design of my first "real" home!

Exciting.

Another day, another dollar, another wall, another tower...

2008-06-06T13:34:00.000+02:00

So this weekend is a big mess.

I had hoped to go to Chiara's (a friend of Jacopo's) bachelorette party on Saturday, but then my boss throws a fit and insists that everyone show for the Dark Rome company dinner on Saturday night -- which I cannot say no to, also because they've been talking about it for weeks and so I don't really have an excuse.

So I tell Jac that I am going to the dinner and not the bachelorette party and he throws a bit of a fit -- and I can see a bit of where he is coming from although he doesn't have a right to take it out on me -- because it's been a long, hard bumpy road from day 1 between my friends and his friends -- he's never really become fully integrated into my group and i've not intergrated into his ... and so when I go out with him and his friends I often find myself a bit quiet and isolated -- making a HUGE effort not to cling on to him and a lot of the time being a bit bored or just not following the conversations-- and when he's out with my friends and we speak English he's in the same position as me, although its a lot easier for him because most of my friends also speak Italian fluently. But I understand the difficulty.

Anyway this bachelorette party was a really nice opportunity to go out with this group of girls, who, even though i've seen them fairly often at parties and the like throughout the year, I never really got to know -- and would like to get to know better --- and Jacopo would like for me to get to know better so as to eliminate a bit of the awkwardness that often accompanies my presence around his friends.

But alas this dinner gets in the way. I hope there will be other opportunities.

In the meantime, however -- I don't think Jac really has a right to comment negatively about my (forced) decision to go the dinner instead of the bachelorette party --- he seems to want me to believe he thinks that i'm avoiding that opportunity -- because I prefer to be in the company of my own friends, where I feel more comfortable.

Which is simply not true. But Jac, once you get an idea in his head --- its a long hard road to changing it...

So today I come up with a brilliant idea and decide to split my time between the dinner and the bachelorette party. I put this idea to Jac. Is he happy? NO.

He goes off about he "doesn't understand how you manage to get yourself into these situations where you want to do everything and you end up doing nothing!"

Jaw drops here.

Excuse me?

That's new news, he's never said that to me before -- and to be frank its not a very nice thing to say. Now he is right to say perhaps it would be difficult and a bit tiring to go to both and it would be nice of him to appreciate the effort I am willing to make or at least support me in it.

But he must criticize.

He is NOT right in saying what he said -- but upon second thought I realized that doing both would mean me leaving the dark rome dinner at 11:30PM, about 30 minutes before the time im normally in bed and asleep -- so to go to the bachelorette party at the time would kind of be absurd. Even if I managed to make it to 1AM.

So I got mad and now I am just going to the dinner and i'm left in a bad mood which will somehow tonight have to be righted but a good conversation with Jac about some of these out of line comments he makes --- which just has to happen because disagreements between us never last overnight.

Thank god.

I believe we are both in a bad bood because of the hoax apartment.
This morning I bought PortaPortese --- and we saw a new ad for the other apartment we were about to take before the hoax one come into the picture.

Tonight we will talk about whether we want to go back to that option or not.

I hope so. I really can't wait to get out of my current living situation.

It's really unbearable.

When the going gets tough.

2008-06-05T14:49:00.001+02:00

So the "landlord" of our would-be perfect appartment was arrested while we were in Lisbon. Apparently the guy rented the apartment for 10 days, showed it to lots of people, confirmed it to lots of people, took 1300 euro deposits from lots of people and was planning on escaping with the money. I'm not sure how it happened but he was reported to the caribinieri and they arrested him.

Thank god we never handed him any money, at least not yet.

We gave up the other apartment in Montesacro for this place.

What is, is.

Now, as for Lisbon, the first two days were nice even though neither Jac nor I felt very well--- but by day three Jac was full-blown sick with a neverending stomach flu (he's still sick, poor thing) and so we missed out on much. I'm still not feeling 100% so i'm going to hold off on writing my impressions of Lisbon for the moment. Maybe tomorrow.

Today i'm just sad and exhausted. I've already given up my current room from the 1st of July ... so apartment or no apartment I have to move out, and will probably move in with Jac for awhile, far, far away in Fidene. :-(

I guess I should be counting my blessings right?

Blessing 1: The surgery that I will have isn't super-serious and I will come out of it 100% healthy and fine -- and besides, all of the doctor visits and exams and expensive tests over the last few months have served to confirm that I am very healthy. That is truly a blessing.

Blessing 2: This asshole with the apartment never took any money from us before he got arrested.

Blessing 3: Because Jac's rent doesn't end till October i'm not going to be homeless, I can just go stay with him until we find a place.

Blessing 4: I didn't catch what Jac has. Thank god.

Blessing 5: I have a lovely, wonderful boyfriend that I love very much.

Blessing 6: OBAMA IS THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY NOMINEE AND HE IS GOING TO KICK MCCAINS REPUBLICAN ASS IN THE GENERAL ELECTIONS! WOOO

I'm going to have to keep repeating these to myself all day.

I wish there weren't such awful people in this world.

Last Train to Lisbon

2008-05-30T12:25:00.000+02:00

Tomorrow afternoon Jac, Emma and I catch a flight from Fiumicino to Lisbon to spend four lovely days as guests of the Italian embassy there, as Emma's father is the Italian ambassador to Portugal.

Monday there will be a big party for the embassy to celebrate Italian liberation day.
I'm not even sure what Italian liberation day is all about -- but I do know that it means that Jac & I get to dress up all fancy. And that's all that matters.

This past month has been a real dream, between finding our apartment -- Jac's surprise birthday (went very well, he liked his gifts) -- this trip to Lisbon ... normally i'd be worried about something awful happening to balance out all the great stuff. Unfortunately that came yesterday, in the form of a trip to the doctor and the forboding shadow of a simple outpatient surgery in a few months. Keep in mind i've never so much as had a stitch. Much less been in a hospital for any length of time.

So thats the bad news. But I have a whole beautiful summer before I have to think about it, and there is a slight chance (very slight from what I understand) that it won't have to happen at all.

Fingers crossed.

For now let me just think about beautiful Lisbon. Post soon to come.

One is not always proud of their city.

2008-05-27T15:43:00.000+02:00

One in a long, sad line... U.S. Tourist Drugged, Killed by Train.

I've got nothing to say.

La seconda chiamata / The Second Phone Call

2008-05-26T18:45:00.001+02:00

We've found our apartment ... and we are moving in the first of July.

And it isn't the first one we saw that I wrote about.

It's all because of a second phone call. But let's go back to December 2006 for a second (pun intended).

Basically, I was looking for work -- and I snagged a total of 2 interviews (work is hard to come by here, no matter how well qualified you are). One of the interviews was for the company I am working for now: Dark Rome Limited.

I had a bad feeling from that first interview interview. The position was as a tour guide and the man who interviewed me, now my boss, Simone, -- told me that I shouldn't expect to make more than 600 euro a month. I didn't expect that I got the job. However, he called me a few days later to ask me if I wanted it.

I said "I don't know" and told him I was waiting on a second interview with another tour company "Through Eternity". He said ok and told me he'd need to know within a few days if my mind was made up. I understood at that point that in reality, I had lost that job opportunity.

When I bombed the interview with Through Eternity -- which has promised much, much more money -- I didn't know what to do. My sister was getting frustrated with me and started to demand I call Simone back and ask him if the job is still available. I postponed, procrastinated and just about every other p-word in the book until finally I cracked, embarassed and called Simone back.

But the tour guide position had been filled.

However, he said, come meet up with me tonight at San Andrea della Valle -- you can take one of our tours and we can talk about another job opportunity.

I didn't understand but I said ok, and went.

We sat in McDonalds for this second interview. He needed an Admin. Also 600 a month, 4 hours a day. I said screw it, I need the money and took the job.

When I arrived at the office it was just me, Simone, and a dream for a formidable tour operator in Rome.

Today I am a full time manager for a sister company of Dark Rome -- doing creative work in a fun and growing field, with a highly competitive salary for my age and for Rome, with a blackberry (I know its stupid, but it makes me happy) and a powerful laptop I can bring wherever I like. I have tons of autonomy and we have now grown to an office with over 10 full time staff, almost 20 guides and even more coordinators and other staff working on the field. And I had a hand in hiring most of the people I work with today.

All because of a second phone call that my sister made me make.

So, this lesson learned -- when a landlord stood us up for an appointment to see what was a seemingly impossible apartment -- and we were pissed off and didn't even want to bother with a second appointment -- I made Jacopo make a second phone call.

And that second phone call led to a second appointment today.

And that led to us falling in love with house #2.

It's perfect in many ways, with minor defects -- but its got a gorgeous panoramic terrace with views of the mountains off in the distance --it's quite cosy-- bathroom done in new tiling -- clean with a new shower -- all already furnished -- new washing machine -- condiminium fees (which include heat and hot water) included in the rent. The bedroom is bright and airy -- the place is filled with light.

The downsides? The living room is small and is a combination living room and "kitchen corner". The apartment is also inside a larger apartment which gives it a strange comunal feel. Our terrace is attached to the one next to it by a flimsy wall ... but that can be fixed.

And.. really .. who the heck cares? The rent is 650 euro. In Rome -- thats IMPOSSIBLE for a place like this.

Did I mention it's about two blocks away from my current apartment? And that I can still walk to work? And that i'll have quick access by Piazza Bologna metro to the city center?

This place cannot be more perfect.

The walls are flawless. There is a small flatscreen TV included. The landlord is a nice guy who doesn't want to overcharge. He knows perfectly well how much he can snatch for this apartment. But he isn't in the business of ripping people off. He appreciates finding the right person(s), quickly, who will stay a long time.

That would be us.

Tomorrow we call him to confirm our interest, and then, calmly we set up an appointment to make a 4 year contract.

Just to think, tonight we had an appointment to discuss the terms of the contract for that first apartment we fell in love with in Montesacro -- to close the deal -- which we were fully prepared to and expected to do -- all if it hadn't been for the appointment this afternoon!

I feel like i'm dreaming.

Imagine if that second call was never made...

It's 3AM, I must be lonely.

2008-05-22T11:15:00.003+02:00

When I was in high school, then college, and probably all the way up to the beginning of 2007 -- I was an insomniac, loved going out until the wee hours of the morn' and consumed half my weight in wine or alcohol each day. I guess all due to a mix of being young, being stupid, being able to and perhaps even being a bit lonely. It didn't help that my sister bartended for the entire 9 months she was in Rome with me, and that I shared a room with her. And that for a long time i'd go to pick her up at 3AM nights she'd work.

But things have changed. I'm still young and probably still stupid in a lot of ways -- but for the past year i've discovered the joy of going to bed on time and avoiding drinking too much-- and my dear Lord what joy it is.

At midnight on a weekday i'm about to "crollare" (crumble).Lately, it's not that my daytimes are particularly long and stressful (though they had been for a good long time) -- but I don't sleep in most mornings -- work prevents that -- and so to feel rested I need at least 8-9 hours. Better 9-10. And there is no better way to get my sleep on than a simple, single glass of red wine with dinner. Or even a nice beer with a pizza.

The weekend I sleep. I sleep and I sleep and I sleep. Long, long, lovely naps in the afternoon. Sleep cuddled with Jac. Sleep with Flip curled up in a furry scarf of black fur around my neck. And at night, if and when Jac and I go out -- I can usually make it to about 2AM -- but i've got to watch the wine. And then it's back to bed. And most nights im still in bed by 12 -- no matter how much i've napped that day.

I don't know why i'm always so tired so early.

Perhaps it is the lack of the lonliness that comes from having Jac in my life each day. The less of a need to make myself available to the world with every ounce of my free time -- to loosen up, be super-social, go to bars and clubs, and make new friends over the 5th glass of wine...

I'm just satisfied with my love, my friends and my life now.

But while this behaviour may appear strange to all of you late-nighters and weekend-warriors ... i'm starting to believe that it is very normal for where i'm at in my life...

So, so very normal and --- above all --- healthy.

I wish my friends thought the same, I got in at 3AM last night.

And I was the first one to leave :-(

That Elusive, Perfect Apartment

2008-05-19T11:54:00.003+02:00

Jac & I started seriously looking for apartments on Saturday (meaning, calling, making appointments, going to see them). And, strangely enough, we fell in love with the very first one we saw. Or well, at least HE did.

Basically consists of an entrance, large bedroom, bathroom kind of fugly (it doesn't get much worse than large black and white tiling) but large none-the-less, large living room and a decent size kitchen -- also done in ugly tiling. Then, to top it off -- a HUGE terrace. Huge. (Hence the "he fell in love part"). I'm in love with everything BUT the tiling.

We made an offer right away to take it from 1 August but that is going to be difficult for us (Jac technically has to pay rent until November at his current apt.) -- but Jac thinks it is worth it.

The only problem is that it is "VUOTO" which means: it's got 'nuttin. Not a piece of furniture. Nuttin'. Not even a damn kitchen. And "elettrodomestici" or electro-domestics (i.e. Fridge, dishwasher, washingmachine, oven, stove etc.) + delivery and installation would cost far too much -- far, far, too much. And we don't really want to invest in something that we might have to leave behind (I mean, who takes a kitchen with them when they leave!)... And this is a rental.

So we are going to make another offer to pay a slightly higher rent if the landlady agrees to pay most of the kitchen (we'd offer to pay delivery and installation).

Fingers crossed.

I never imagined this all happening so fast.

We spent all of Sunday afternoon in Ikea after Roma lost the scudetto.

It makes us happy :-)

Where everybody knows your name.

2008-05-16T16:39:00.001+02:00

I've been meaning to write for a really long time about my Italian bank.

That's right, you heard me: ITALIAN BANK. Like bank, where you keep your money, where you make you financial transactions, you know: BANK.

My bank is called Banca di Roma or "The Bank of Rome" and it is the biggest and most well known (and, I suppose, respected -- but I wouldn't count on it) in Rome and possibly in Italy, especially since it has joined forces with UNICREDIT, another bank -- basically forming a formidable monopoly.

I want to write about my bank because nowhere else in the world, and especially not in America, have I ever experienced anything quite like it.

Take today, for example. I walk in, trying to keep a low profile. Within two minutes from the other side of the room "KEEEEEEEM!!!!" (they pronounce i like a double e here) --- it's the guy who works at the back desk. He starts asking me how I am and when I respectfully, and rightfully respond with the formal "e come sta, Lei?" (And how are you, Sir?") he scoffs at me as though such good friends should never need formal addresses. He starts asking me how my credit card is doing -- if it is still magnetized (to explain, my Banca di Roma credit cards have all been demagnitized a total of 15 times in the past year -- which is why the whole damn bank knows who I am) -- and I respond kindly that yes -- the card protector cases I bought are working -- and he wants to chat on about how my work is going. He says my friend "Irlandese" from work has the same problem with her cards. I say no, she's british -- Louise right? And another guy shouts from the back of the room "Si -- Clarke!!" (That is Louise's last name). Now -- he doesn't know Louise works with me because I told him or because she told him. He knows because he sees we both get paid by the same company. He also wants to know how Catherine is doing. Catherine is a guide that works for our company. And no -- I never told him I knew Catherine.

They freaking know EVERYTHING about me. And EVERYONE I work with!

So I get up to the teller window, and there is only one teller window open, of course -- even though its friday afternoon 1 hour before closing (the bank will be closed the entire weekend) -- and there is a line 15 people long.

Anyway I get up there, and of course -- it's the same teller as always. I mean I don't even know this guys name. He doesn't ask me for ID to make a deposit. He never has. Not even for withdrawals. Not even for withdrawals over 500 euro!

So he says "ma non ricordi il tuo numero di conto?" ("you don't remember your bank account number?") and I tell him no, i've never memorized it -- in the entire + 1year i've been with this bank i've never come in knowing my account number -- and he goes "well I think I remember it..." and proceeds to recite my account number perfectly from memory. Then he asks me how work is going, and how Catherine is...

I sigh. This is not the first time the same teller has recited my bank account number to me from memory.

I sign and make my deposit. I address him as "Lei" (the formal address) as well and he scoffs at me, as well, saying don't call him that -- it makes him feel OLD, like he's 20 years older than me.

In reality he's probably just a bit over 10, but he's my TELLER.

I think, thats probably the same teller that called all of the other people in my company that have accounts with Banca di Roma just because he tried calling me once and I didn't answer -- regarding a silly problem with my account.

It's just so weird.

But i've gotten used to it. And I must admit it is kind of nice when I walk in that i'm recognized, and everyone is super-nice. In the end, it's not so bad -- I guess.

But, like many things that happen in Italy, I can't even begin to imagine a similar scenario in America.

Only in Rome.

The Great Effort

2008-05-15T11:38:00.000+02:00

Before I met Jac last year I was convinced that to make any relationship work would require some huge, gigantastic effort. I looked back on my past failures (and my dear lord, what failures they were) and I saw what I should've, could've done differently. Most common among em'?

1. I told him too much about myself, too soon.
2. I didn't give him enough breathing room.
3. We he pulled away, I tried to hold him tighter.
4. We got physically intimate too soon. My fault, of course.
5. I fell for him too fast.

etc. etc. You get the picture.

So I was convinced that I needed to pull out all the stops and concentrate on controlling myself -- the effort all from my part of course --- day-to-day bartering and rational-ing and holding back -- and just some general "I know i'm right but i'm going to keep my mouth shut and let you think you are right because I really don't feel like fighting right now and in the end it doesn't matter anyway"-ing would need doing.

Worst advice. There is no sooner path to pure hell than this one -- and you will end up with nothing -- and having said nothing -- and nobody knowing you because everything that defines who you are that doesn't fit into the cookie cutter shape or what and what not to do and say will remain hidden to the rest of the world -- and most importantly to the person with whom you could be sharing a happy relationship.

But for a long time, I went for this stuff. I fell for it. I just wanted to be good at it .. you know? The whole girlfriend thing. And who doesn't love a good self-help book, or article...

SO where would I be without the wisdom of online blogging and article-writing king and queen know-it-alls of all things love. Love advice. Sex advice. How to know if he's going to propose to you advice. How to make him love you more advice. How to pretend to love him less advice. How to freakin' drop his ass advice.

I've read lists of red flags that read like grocery shopping lists -- and I swore by all Things and Gods of Love that I would step right out the door should one of them come glaring my way, attached to an otherwise perfect-seeming man.

I consumed these love/life/dating articles and advice on the web like a hoarding squirrel (msn.com and tangomag as first pit-stops)-- trying to train myself to be the perfect girlfriend -- do the right thing always, say the right thing always -- ... and, well, to be honest -- the prospective looked quite daunting. And just overall really exhausting. And not at all appealing.

But as I said, this was before I met Jac.

Not that there haven't been moments in which i've felt the temptation to reach for my toolbelt-of-internet-love-advice and pull out some quick-fix to make things better. And not that i've never gotten some good advice that hasn't come in useful. But in the past year -- a not always easy year -- but definitely not a difficult one -- i've learned how to put all of this into perspective.

So what i've learned:

Above all things, it is absolutely essential to find someone who's inner-programming fits puzzle-piece-like into yours. And i'm not talking about similar interests or religions or what have you. But it shouldn't be DIFFICULT make it work. Really, it should just work.

Being with Jac isn't difficult. I'm not exhausted nor do I make a herculean effort each day to make sure our relationship is happily heading down the paved road of perfectness -- and we haven't had to make any special against-our-will effort to keep things alive -- our character traits do that for us, we don't need to do it conciously -- but we're concious enough to know when the unconcious is taking over the concious and we need a whipping back to reality. That usually comes in the form of a much-needed fight. And fighting is good -- especially when the inner-DNA-programming quickly turns you mushy and forgiving-ful. And when you don't get too dirty. With Jac, this happens regularly. That's one good advice -- never go to bed mad. We don't. But that's because of who we are -- we don't WANT to. And neither one of us needs to convince the other.

And I get how difficult this is to find. Which is why i'm particularly grateful to have found Jac and that he's found me --- I don't miss the crazy emotional intensity of my past relationships (I nearly moved to Switzerland and got married for Chrissakes -- to someone who I had spent less than 1 months overall time with and didn't know at all) -- but I am enjoying the deep, moving, intense emotion I am feeling for Jac that doesn't need to manifest itsself in 3AM phone calls or trans-atlantic fights -- in fact -- the non-passion-craziness is what lets me sleep sweetly at night, at a reasonable hour, after our goodnight on the phone -- the few times we aren't sharing a bed per week. And i'm happier. And I don't lack anything.

The point i'm getting to -- is that -- for whoever of you out there is beating themselves up for what they are doing/could have done/shoulda woulda done right or wrong in their relationships -- past present or future -- I just want to say -- be yourself and let your inner-programming play itsself out because thats the only way you will be able to see how well you fit -- in the world and in your relationship.

I'm really just starting to figure it out.

And that's not advice.

**note: I still do find myself, at least once per day -- reading 5-10 articles on love advice from various dubios sources. I just try not to take it all so seriously...

The World in Short

2008-05-12T10:47:00.001+02:00

So much going on the in the world. Myanmar is destroyed by a horrific cyclone putting the death tolls way over comfort level (not that there is ever a comfortable level...) Austrian dad Josef Fritlz locks his 18 year old daughter up in a cellar dungeon for 24 years and fathers 7 children by her without anyone knowing, not even his wife... Billary continues to pursue the by now hopeless Democratic nomination -- which is making it increasingly difficult for her to bow out with grace... (I support Barack Obama) Roma is playing into the last game of the Scudetto after miraculous results yesterday between Inter and Siena (they tied -- Inter, if the earth has been spinning in the correct direction yesterday, would have won) and Rome ousted Atalanta 2 to 1 -- and noone can sleep well for an entire week because next Sunday, if Inter ties or loses with Parma -- and Roma wins with Catania -- well all-party-hell will break loose in Rome and you can expect to see some crazy pictures posted on this spot. The last time Roma won the Scudetto was 2001.

So all of this is going on and then there's little ole me in the world and my goings on and it's May and today Jac is going to sign/send the letter of "disdetta" (a letter you send to show you intend to end a contract) for the contract of his apartment -- so we can finally finalize the move-out date though we are open to any way of moving in together sooner. We're in some strange sort of hyper-in-love phase -- I am not quite sure why -- maybe it is because tomorrow we celebrate the anniversary of our first year together or maybe it's because we get how damn lucky we are to have found one another -- we've spent this entire weekend sort of reveling in that feeling and talking about our new apartment and plans. I am happy.

And then there is also the trip to Lisbon at the end of this month -- whooohooo! Plane tix are bought. We are leaving Saturday afternoon the 31 of May and will be back the evening of 3 June. I hope to do a lot of small trips this summer-- Jac and I have mostly decided to not do a summer vacation this year -- we're going to need the money to furnish the apartment and get settled in (we want an empty apartment -- a lot of apartments here are already furnished with old, ugly, out-dated, dusty furniture -- and we are faithful worshippers of IKEA). So it is kind of sad but considering that this means we can take a lot of smaller less expensive trips it's not so awful -- then for our winter vacation we'll go somewhere nice and sunny to make up for it (Cuba was thrown out as a possibility).

Yes, yes. I am happy. Life is good.

Checking things off the list.

2008-04-29T13:40:00.002+02:00

The last time I was in Pisa, it was in August '07 -- and it was also at 3AM. I was with my sister and we had taken the train (which was, of course, late*) in to catch our flight to Sardegna. It was dark, and there were no taxis, and we had no idea where the airport was. Two backpacking hobo's with ratty camping equipment and a drunk Pisan bum later we had walking directions from the station to the Airport. With luggage. It was one of the more memorable eves of my life but not for what I had expected. On the train in, visions had danced in my head of a sunrise-taxi-drive-by of the leaning tower of Pisa and the Piazza dei Miracoli, bottle of white wine in hand, wooed by some guy playing suitable background music on a violin. But indeed no. I found myself with my sister and the two hobo's walking along a broken sidewalk at 3AM, weighed down with too-stuffed backpackes along a major highway -- to reach the airport by foot -- and the only background music the sound of the occaisional car whizzing by. Ohhh, Pisa.

So to make up for it, since Jac & I were in Tuscany for the weekend with friends, I went back to Pisa -- this time in broad daylight on a sunny late spring day to lounge for several lovely hours on the lush laws of Piazza dei Miracoli.

Soon as I saw the tower I was overwhelmed with a desire to send some sort of advisory message to America, something along the lines of: !!! The hype is TRUE!!! It really DOES look like it's about to fall over.

Nothing could have prepared me for the hoards of americans taking pictures in front, pretending to "lean" in all sorts of awkward/twisty ways/directions.

Kind of made of think of 2003 in front of the Torre Eiffel with Corinne, taking turns making that illusory pic in which one looks as though they are holding up the tower in the palms of their hands. Or the classic "make a Gladiator muscle" in front of the Colosseum.

In all, I had a really good weekend -- saw lots of new places (Lucca, Viareggio, Pisa, Orvieto) -- and it was much needed. Summer is a'coming. Life gets interesting-er. Stay posted.

*From herein when I mention taking trains in italy, just assume it was late -- unless I miraculously report otherwise.

La-di-da...

2008-04-21T17:17:00.001+02:00

So two overly-cheeky (ahem, dramatic) e-mails to the only two theatre-spots for speakers-of-English in Rome – and no answer. No word. Nada.
That doesn’t perhaps mean there will never be word, but I’m not counting on it.
And now I’ve really got to look myself in the eye (using a mirror, of course) and ask myself whether or not I can dedicate the time and energy to Theatre again that I once could – the commitment required to put on a really great, well-done, well worked through and worth-WHILE piece of theatre.
The answer? Probably not. I work 10-7 every day and at night all I want to do is sleep. And on the weekends, sleep more.

So I’m thinking it might be fun to pull together a small, fly-by-night theatre group of English-Speakers that perhaps could develop its own stuff – entry-by-donation – that sort of thing. But the problem of time/energy remains.

Also because I’m very hesitant to cut into my time with Jacopo. We see each other often—very often for a working couple (consider I only sleep in my own bed about 2 nights a week). But the moments are few when we are together and have energy to do stuff or be together in a more conscious way.

But I am determined to pick-up-the-pace in one way or another. The season is already giving way and we have already full weekends.

Observe:

Friday: We slept.
Saturday: Watched the game (soccer/AS Roma) with friends then to a party in Trastevere that included live Jazz. In bed by Midnight.
Sunday: Lunch at Jac’s parents. Then trip to Villa Ada (Park) where we spend the afternoon snoozing on the grass. Then home, and more snoozing – this time on bed. Then we wake up, eat dinner, and go to a presentation of a Film on 9/11 that too-closely resembles Loose Change. Jac’s friend is the producer. We leave after about an hour and a half, grab a Gelato, then pass out.

And now I’m at work.

Yeah … eventful weekend right? Actually it was.

Friday is a Bank Holiday here so that means no work. On Thursday night Jac and I are driving into Tuscany with some friends (one of them has a house out there). Friday we go to my dad’s cousins wedding (he is getting married in Lucca – in Tuscany) then the rest of the weekend lazing around in Tuscany.

I’m excited. I haven’t set foot in Tuscany in 5 years. And considering it’s right next door – that’s a long time.

Tracks

2008-04-14T13:08:00.001+02:00

I've always been terrified of becoming lonely or bored. Or looking back on a monotonous life after a few years and asking myself where the f**k i've been, and what have I been wasting my time doing when I could have been somewhere else or doing something else or just being someone else that I might like better than who i've been... well, Being. One such shock came upon me in bed, laying next to Jac, last night.

And I said : "We're lazy".

He pled no contest, but you know -- after enough chilly Rome-winter weekends spent waring down worn tracks in the house -- i'm getting the itch for that something better, something new...
you know?

And i'm not talking about tying Jac out to the dog-house at all. No, not at all. But I need a bit of new -- or something old that I loved and lost (theatre, non fiction of the nobel prize winning sort, oscure foreign documentaries etc.). My first baby steps have been to email the only two English speaking theatre companies in existence in Rome -- and now I suppose I should invest in some literature. Begin a book club. Oh, I don't know.

This is what life is like without classes. It would be good if university could continue (on a very part time basis) for - ever.

Why I hate Public Transportation in Rome.

2008-04-07T16:20:00.001+02:00

Maybe hate isn't a strong enough word. Loathe? No... Abhor, despise, detest, have a feeling of utter and complete disgust for...

This is how the topic came up. Sunday eve and Jac and I are sitting at home, basking in the woozy afterglow of a pasta con pesto dinner (a staple in our half-household) and talking about his sister's apartment, which is way the hell out on Via Valle Melaina. And the possibility is there that we might possibly take that apartment if his sister leaves towards the end of the year. Why is this a problem? Let me draw you a diagram.

Note the large space of no-mans land between civilization (Rome city center) and Valle Melaina (possible future apartment).

Do you get me?

And the only way to get to and from civilization from that house is by bus -- unless you have a car, or motorino -- which I do not. This, my good friend, equals H E L L.

Public buses in Rome are rarely, if ever, on time. Nor do they run as often as they are supposed to. Once, trying to get from work to a doctor's appointment -- waited 1 full hour for a bus that is supposed to run every 10 minutes. This is not only a problem due to the lateness -- but do you have any idea what a bus passing 50 minutes past the due time looks like? If you are lucky to make it on to the bus at all (which requires serious pushing, shoving, beating-the-shit-out-of others in order to manage to squeeze in) -- but once inside there is a very real chance you will die of suffocation. Or just being sqooshed to death. Let's not even talk about during the summer. I mean, I live in a country where combo anti-perspirant/deodorant is a rarity -- not to mention shaven armpits to begin with. Oh yes, and we tend to wear things for a couple of days before actually washing them. We're resourceful folk. But --- c'mon -- F***.

Then there are the old men. And not just old men -- but all men, including young boys -- those slimy, slimy men who take advantage of the over-crowded bus to slip their hands in places they absolutely should NOT go.

Now imagine yourself on this bus -- and imagine doing this every day.

And you see why I flipped out at the idea.

Consider Rome is a huge, major metropolitan city served by only TWO metro lines (cutely named A and B) which is pretty easy to navigate and very fast should you happen to need to go one of the few places the metro actually stops.

I get the point though-- we want to keep costs down. Sacrifices must be made. I'm down.

I've already started searching thru Portaportese for a 125cc scooter.

'cause honey, there just ain't no way you're gonna get me on a roman bus every day...

The Healthy, Happy Italiana

2008-04-02T11:24:00.001+02:00

Jane took this photo of me meditating on a cement pillar in front of St. Peter's Basilica at midnight. The other is of Jac and I on Gianicolo Hill, overlooking the Eternal City. My friends left on Friday evening after a looovely dinner with Jack and I -- we went to Osteria St. Ana -- a place I discovered when a client took me there for lunch and now I bring a lot of our partners/clients there-- because the price is right, the atmosphere is casual yet elegant -- and the food is fantastic. If you are ever in Rome I suggest you go there for dinner. Check the link, there are photo's too.

The weekend.... Went to Lago di Bracciano -- a lake about 40 minutes outside of Roma for a first-spring stroll. Seafood lunch. We took the motorino out so we could enjoy the weather more .. yes, the weather keeps getting nicer and my mood improves along with it. Not that i'm ever really in a bad mood - at least not a sustained one -- but summer, especially here, has a nice mood-boosting kick to it. They don't call it sunny italy for nuttin'. Not only that-- but i'm a lot healthier since i've been living here. The twenty pounds I lost since I arrived aside, my skin has improved -- I get sick less and -- heck -- I don't even exercise! I found this article which may help explain ... it looks to be an opinion piece and there is a lot of stuff in there that doesn't apply to all (i.e. while the city does close down for 3 hours for a lot of people in the afternoon -- not for me! me and most I know take just an hours lunch break, normal by american standards. We do however, take 2-4 coffee "breaks" throughout the day for a nice espresso to keep the juices flowin') -- but I find it to be honest in it's interpretation of why you'll have trouble finding an obese italian.

Latest in news -- my two next trips?

April 24-27 , 2008 - Venice trip with my co-workers (see Charlie's Angels post).

End of May, 2008 - Lisbon trip where the italian embassy will be hosting us! (Emma's dad is a diplomat and works in the Lisbon embassy). Jack is coming too -- and since we've been talking about wanting to see Portugal I can't think of a better way!

De-Tourism

2008-03-27T12:20:00.000+01:00

My favorite part of having my american friends come to visit, especially if it is for the first time --- is the sense of "wow" and newness and fascination they bring to everything i'm showing them -- that gets me excited to and incites a re-appreciation in me for the beautiful city I live in -- for it's monuments, art, food -- everything.

So when I met up with Jane, Crissy and Allen yesterday and found out this was their very first time in both Italy and in Rome -- I was eager to give them a taste of the city -- starting with some Italian hot chocolate which Jane be-named "chocolate soup" -- then moving along to some night-time sightseeing -- the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon and Piazza Navona all lit up and lively -- then a nice, no frills pasta dinner in the center with a healthy dose of white wine -- followed by a late night walk across the tiber to Castel Sant'Angelo and all the way up into the glowing-blue Saint Peter's Square and Dome.

As they put it "everything is so... overwhelming".

And it's true.

Can't wait to show them some other stuff tonight.

Time like your cheek...

2008-03-25T11:35:00.001+01:00

...has turned for me.

Do you know anything about Sam Beam? i.e. Iron & Wine?
If not, I suggest you inform yourself audi-ally.

Uneventful Easter. It's been raining too much lately. We had Easter "pranzo" with Jacopo's folks and they invited us after to an art exhibition "ottocento" at the Scuderie del Quirinale. Lots of Francesco Hayez.He's a new favorite of mine. Has a knack for depicting dark haired, gypsy like women in melancholic moments and their peasant-topped dresses loosely clinging to their breasts. It's really quite engaging.

Another work that grabbed my attention was a sculpture in marble by Domenico Trentacoste, "La Derelitta" called "The Disinherited" or "Forsaken".

Title fits, don't it? Besides the niceness of me Jac and his parents all going to an art exhibition together -- it was a nice reminder of my fortune in being able to live in Rome and to take advantage of all of the treasures it has to offer -- it would be a rare day indeed in New York or Albany that i'd be likely to go to an exhibition such as this -- not because there weren't any (though the number of exhibitions here far outnumbers those in NYC) but mostly because my eyes were widely shut to most of it while I lived there-- but being here you just can't get away. Every day I come into contact with some of the most beautiful/ancient/famous/modern works of art known to man, the originals -- and many times for free (in churches).

In fact, this winter when I was back in New York I went to MoMA and the Museum of Natural History. And tried to go to the Guggenheim but it was closed.

Within the next week, Jac and I have plans to visit the Palazzo delle Esposizioni to see a three part "Mostra" (showing) about art in modern China, the legend of Speed and a National Geographic photography exhibit. Can't wait :-)

Oh, and tomorrow my dear friends Jane, Crissy and Allen are arriving -- Jac and I are taking the day off to do some alpine snowboarding and then we are going to meet up with them.

These are good days...

Afternoon Coffee Break

2008-03-19T17:59:00.004+01:00

So today, as I sit down at a side-walk table of our local bar (coffee place) of choice in a rare-unhectic moment with my colleagues, Emma and Naomi, who also just so happen to be two of my best friends in Rome -- in addition to being part of the original Charlie's Angels trio (our boss being Charlie - us being, well just look at the photo) -- where was I? Oh yes, rare-unhectic moment sipping on a caffè coretto -- meaning an espresso with liquor in it -- in this case Sambuca -- letting the day wind down and talking about our end of April girls Venice trip and the dinner we've planned tonight in Trastevere -- I realize that in all of my posts til' now there have been two major focuses: my relationship with Jacopo... and our cat.

Now I ain't about turning this into a Boyfriend/Cat version of a "Mommy Blog" (see: blogs written by obsessed mothers about babies and burping and diapers and absolutely nothing else of interest) -- so just for the record -- while the major "stuff" going on right now that's type-worthy involves my love and my pet -- that's not all my life is about -- i've got my good friends, many of whom were there before the love and before the pet who saw the love and the pet happen and/or listened the talk for hours on end about them -- and I absolutely adore these friends without whom Roma would be a very sad place indeed.

Here's to you, girls -- (raises teacup of espresso-spiked-sambuca and salutes).

October

2008-03-19T13:22:00.000+01:00

October 2005 -- The Spaniard and I "break up". My December plan of moving to switzerland and teaching english while getting a masters degree? Out the window. New life plan -- finish school, save $, get the flying F**k out of America.

October 2006 -- I leave America, for good. Oddly, by boarding a plane heading towards Madrid, where the Spaniard is waiting for me at the airport. That, as we all know, doesn't work -- and i've been living in Rome since.

October 2007 -- I decide Rome is IT. I'm here, i'm staying. This leads to me beginning the search for a semi-permanent room, further from the center, big changes at work (restructuring, promotion, new office etc.) and the decision to go back to New York -- my once home -- as a foreigner, for a visit.

October 2008 -- (about) Moving in with Jacopo.

Notice a trend? If something big and life-changing is going to happen -- it usually chooses to poke its head out in October -- so when Jac told me yesterday that his apartment contract says he needs to give 6 months notice to move out ... and I counted that from April 1 -- that means the move in date is October 1. I wasn't surprised, and oddly amused.

I wonder what else October will bring?

Moving In.

2008-03-17T13:53:00.000+01:00

So I made that whole, lovely to-do post (leaving out minor to-do's like go to Rocca di Papa and find the hill that your car, if placed in neutral, will roll UP instead of down) but this weekend was unable to knock any off the list--- but it was a good weekend anyway.

Sunday we ended up driving out to a town in the Castelli Romani and having a birthday-lunch for Jac's nonnina (grandmother) with his whole family. Fresh air, lots of green, pan-views and high bridges. What a Roman weekend outing is made of.

After returning home for a cat-nap (literally - CAT nap -- Flip plopped herself belly-up into my arms and fell asleep and Jac and I ended up passing out ourselves for a few hours) Jac and I decided to go out on the town -- ended up at "Bafetto" a famous pizzeria in the centre, and over our 4 euro yummy, paper-thin margherita pizzas and two bottles of nastro azzuro national beer we starting talking about moving in together.

And as of last night I officially have his go to start looking (slowly) for an apartment :-). To share that is. With him.

Now, I've never lived with a man before (though i've come close)so this is a rather large leap-step... it also (sort of) solidifies that fact which I am really trying my best to avoid admitting or even thinking -- which is -- i'm here, in Rome, and -- i'm not going anywhere.

What a to-do ...

2008-03-12T14:24:00.004+01:00

1. Hiking in the Parco Nazionale dei Monti Sibillini. More than once.

2. White-water rafting in class 4 rapids at Cascate delle Marmore.

3. Day-trip in motorino to Orte & Orvieto.

4. Weekend jaunt to Florence.

5. Go back to Calcata, have lunch there and do the hiking trail in the valley.

6. Weekend jaunt to Milan.

7. Decide where to spend our two vacations this year, between a) Portugal and Morocco and b) Israel.

8. Weekend jaunt to Berlin.

9. Go back for a weekend in Arcinazzo.

10. Go to "unknown place" in motorino. i.e. mystery road trip.

11. Go to an A.S. Roma soccer game!
Already confirmed:

1. Naomi 3-day birthday trip to Venice.

Home.

2008-03-10T11:44:00.002+01:00

So driving up along Villa Borghese at about 10 p.m. last night, it's dark and it's green and the sky is blue-ing between the naked trunks of the cyprus trees and i'm sitting in the passenger seat of Jac's still new-smelling Ford Fiesta... and i'm not knowing exactly where he's driving me yet but given that it's Sunday and that it's the end of the weekend -- I get that he's driving towards home -- my home -- my 20 sq meter white walled room with my plants and my balcony and my old wood armoire, my empty room, my cat-less room, my jac-less room ... because we've been together since Friday night and that's what you do when you've been together since Friday night -- but I can't help myself and I ask "Dove andiamo?" (Where are we going). He repeats my question with a silly voice -- because it's a silly question -- I know -- and then tells me that Good Kids go to BED at this hour, they go home, they get under the covers -- but my covers haven't been slept in for a while and I think of the empty room and I say "Oh" and sit in silence for a minute or so before saying "Posso dormire con te stanotte?" (Can I sleep by you tonight?) And he responds with a quick sharp and joking "NO" but then asks if I really, really want to and with the voice of a 3 year old I mutter a vulnerable "Si"... and we make a quick turn and soon we are heading north, heading home, his home, our home, where Flip, our cat, is curled up on the couch waiting for us -- that familiar black Ikea couch and that TV I hate so much and the table where we eat together -- and his room, our bed, and sheets that have that wrinkly warm slept in look to them -- and there's Him and so it's even warmer than just that and I think how sad the night can be when he's not there and how unnatural it feels to think of heading somewhere else where he isn't and i'm glad I don't always have to go somewhere else and hopeful one day I won't ever have to go somewhere else ... it's possible that i've found home --- in that cat, in those sheets, on that couch and in that glass-topped table --- but most of all... in him.

Related Posts:
See Lola Run: Windows on the World
See Lola Run: The Problem with Goodbye

Resemblance? Hmmm.

2008-03-07T18:22:00.000+01:00

The sounds planes make. Reccuring Daydream: Part 2

2008-03-07T12:59:00.001+01:00

It's always so dramatic. The climaxing speed to takeoff resounding in higher and higher pitched tones emanating from the space between the wheels and the runway, the engines whirring, the vibrations you can feel in the handrest, the pull of gravity reversed against your chest as the plane transitions from ground to air in that uncertain moment, the wobbling, the pushing against the upper atmosphere and going higher and higher...

In recent news...

2008-03-06T12:03:00.002+01:00

Real Madrid gets its CULO kicked by A.S. Roma.
We're now among the 8 leading European teams.

Sick Days

2008-03-05T12:53:00.001+01:00

Last night I went to Jac's -- he's got the measles -- apparently due to something having to do with an "autism scare" related to the vaccine which lasted for about a decade and so many were not vaccinated with MMR (Measels, Mumps and Rubella) and the booster. But me, I was vaccinated and boostered to boot within the first year of my life and so now can address my nursing duties worry-free.

I left him (Jac) there (home) this morning. He keeps changing color. When I left he has just changed from green to pinkish-blue. I didn't want to leave but i've got work and I don't think that "my boyfriend is sick" is going to get me a paid sick day. No matter how long my boss and boy have known each other (15 years).

But now Flip is taking care of him.

Flip is great -- but he's a scrawny little thing and he's probably not eating half of what he should at his age and i'm not sure what exactly to do about it. We're bringing him to the vet soon as Jac gets better. He's got most of the signs of a good healthy kitty except for the ultra-scrawnyness -- which, since Flip's mom is a bit scrawny herself -- I hope is just normal.

Introducing the Dolcissimo Flip!

2008-03-03T20:39:00.000+01:00

So, he was playing with his catnip mouse and doing head over heel flips on the couch and I cooed at him then asked Jacopo what he thought of a name like "Flip". He smiled, we shook on it and the name was decided.

Minus the part when he peed a pool on Jacopo's duvet (12 euro dry cleaning bill), he's been so well behaved! He learned (mostly) everything after being shown once --- and doesn't cause a ruckus when we go out for a few hours. He's amicable with everyone willing to give him a lil' love and is full of energy.

And we're like a little family, and Jac and I joke about being Ma and Pa as we cheerfully share expenses and litter-box-poop-scooping duty.

Recurring Daydream

2008-02-29T15:25:00.000+01:00

10:00PM Halloween night. Waxing moon. Partly Cloudy. Cool. Sitting in a window seat inspecting the wings for cracks or loose pieces. Nervously. iPod engaged. Baby it's Alllllllllll Right Now (Free) blasting. Watching the air traffic controllers move across the gravel like airport-house-figurines beneath the plane's enormous wheels, waving neon signals in the air, the plane decompresser making that ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh noise ---- i'm almost there, i'm almost gone, i'm going, going...

Here, Kitty, kitty...

2008-02-27T16:25:00.000+01:00

Big news.

I'm going to be a cat mommy!

Jac and I have been speaking for a long, long, long time about getting a kitten ... and at first I decided to keep it with me (that is, until one flatmate of mine rejected the idea and I decided I wasn't home enough anyway to have a cat -- i'm either at work, with friends or with jac -- a total of 5% of my waking hours are spent in my actual apartment -- and that's usually just to take a shower). Then Jac thought about keeping it at his house--- but had been very undecided on the topic until this morning when he informed me that we are going to pick her up tomorrow! There is a litter of kittens we've been following, born I think the 1st of January that are finally ready to go to new homes.

I'll put up pictures as soon as we've got her and we've named her and we're sure it's a her and not a he.

I'm so excited.

I've been missing having pets around.

Road Trip, the second.

2008-02-24T12:15:00.001+01:00

Now that the weather is getting nicer, and now that Jacopo finally bought himself a car that goes forward when he steps on the gas -- that is -- instead of backward like the BMW was doing-- I mentioned to him yesterday my want to visit a certain medieval town near Rome called "Calcata" that I has heard many a fine thing about.

The beauty of Road-trips is that they never really go as expected. Not when they are done right, anyway. And Jacopo, though proclaiming to know how to arrive perfectly missed the exit by a long shot (I pointed this out to him as soon as I saw an exit sign with a very clear "Calcata 15" pointing to an off ramp). Ten minutes later he admitted he had possibly gone too far.

At this point however we are seeing signs for a "Castel Sant'Elia". Now, being as my last name is Elia -- I had to see this place. Jacopo mentions that it is "un posto stupendo" excitedly and asks if i'd like to change course and visit Calcuta afterwards. So now we're going to Castel Sant'Elia. It's another medieval town but the beauty of this one isn't so much the town as it is the Basilica -- which is hidden down in a dry valley beneath the town. And it's really fricken old. Jacopo -- back in his "photographer" days came here often to photograph weddings. Which is why he knows the spot to begin with.

And this is the jump off point of many-a-lame-joke made thereafter about where we are going to have our wedding and reception. No, we're not engaged.

So we go down to the basilica and it's closed and locked -- but the cemetary is open. I have a sort of macabre interest in cemetaries -- not because i'm into death but because it's a place where you have the dead and the living together in one spot -- one crowded spot. But there is something particularly interesting (or maybe you'd say -- creepy) about Italian cemetaries. Two things, actually. One -- there is a photo accompanying every gravestone. This becomes significantly more disturbing on the tombstones of children. Second -- there are fresh, brightly colored, real flowers on 99.9% of gravestones. Even the older ones.

People really don't like to forget here.

I've been back to my grandmothers gravestone once. And my greatgrandfather and grandfather are buried in my grandmothers china cabinet (seriously -- both were cremated and she placed their ashes there -- right next to the dining room table, it's a puerto-rican thing...). Point is though -- it struck me that the memory of the dead here is always that close -- always that alive.

After a long and really fruitless search for a nice, boisterious, rustic restaurant we ended up at "Borgo di Sutri" which is a beautiful hotel/restaurant but at the moment was completely empty. It was expensive, and it was odd being in such a large, luxurious, empty space but the food was all presented beautifully and we ate well. Jacopo even ordered a plate of assorted "salumi" and I ate some. Some vegetarian I am.

Finally we made it to Calcata and immediately regretted not having gone straight there --- we immediately found three great restaurant possibilities (we're going back soon, of course). But the most impressive part of Calcata is the actual placement of the town itsself. So basically you've got this valley -- wide, deep valley and in the middle of it youve got this cylindrical, steep plateau jutting up with a town carved into it -- out of the rock -- seriously. Look.

So we sat in the corners of this town for an hour or so, looking off at the valley and soaking up the sun of one of the more beautiful days of the new season we've had so far. And we dreamed up our next trip here. There is a trail in the valley below, which we will do in the morning and then come back up to a artsy restaurant that has been carved into the Tufa stone in a cave-like labyrinth. We'll be taking the motorino in.

An hour later we went to Ikea and I bought a few new things for my room. A good (but very tipical) end for my Saturday. But it's nice to know that these places are no longer a trans-atlantic plane ride away. There's so much right here i've yet to see.
And I guess that's one of the reasons i'm sticking around.

Comeback

2008-02-22T17:40:00.002+01:00

I’d like to think (or at least hope) that a few of you have wondered where I’ve run off to in the past year, given that I stopped mass-emailing and blogging. However don't get too upset. That doesn't mean i've not been blogging at ALL. It just mostly means I haven't been blogging in english.

See proof:
kaece.blogspot.com
kae.leonardo.it
jjm.leonardo.it/foto (this is my boyfriends blog but it may as well be mine).

But now i've come back here. Because I want to write in English again. Because the other blogs have served their purpose -- I am finally (round of applause here) 100% fluent in Italian. No this does not mean that everything I say is grammatically correct but when will it ever be? At least guys at the bar stopped making hearts in my cappuccino's and asking me how long i'd be in town.

But I arrived in Rome on November 6, 2006. Today is February 22, 2008.

And I’m still here.

And I’ve come a long, long way to get here. Re-cap time. Here goes.

Figure that when I arrived in Rome (with a broken heart) I was living with my sister Jess for free in a tiny B&B room in a beach town outside of Rome --- smack dab in the middle of winter when the beach wasn’t all that inviting and it rained a lot. Then we finally moved to Rome city by the end of November – where we took an overpriced double bedroom with yellowed marble floors, high ceilings and a teeny water heater that never worked for the equivalent of about $1,200USD a month. Ouch, yes. REPEAT: DOUBLE-ROOM -- NOT apartment! Then I was out of work a month still while Jess hung on by the a thread working for “uno stronzo” as a barmaid making far too little.

Christmas came around and we had over $2,000USD fraudulently deducted from our bank account (this is THE land of theives)--- and I was still looking for work. We still managed to put up a tiny tree and amuse ourselves with friends and walking around and getting to know our beautiful city. At least the wine was cheap. We decorated the tree with wine corks.

Right after Christmas and Right before New Years I finally got hired as a part time admin by an Irish company called Dark Rome. No contract, 600EURO a month and no other options. Almost simultaneously Jess was "let go" from the bar. My birthday happened and I was sick but Jess surprised me by waking me up with flowers and gifts, and in the evening a few of our friends turned up with cards and presents.

So I get to work and Jess gets a job part timing an Irish Pub and submitting resumes everywhere. Our bank restitutes the money stolen from our account and things look up. Jess gets another day-job working at a nursery school making very little --- but her lunches are paid and she likes the work. She starts taking French classes and I’m working 10+ hour days trying to prove to my boss he needs me there more than 4.

Within two weeks I move from 4 hours a day to 6. By the end of February I am working full time and making a competitive salary, acting as a fly-by-night tour guide in the evenings to help even things out.

In these months Jess and I learn the value of budgeting --- the cheapliness of pasta --- the pleasures and pains of cohabitation and begin to take short trips. I’m learning more and more about Rome through the tours that my job offers and pretty soon my company starts to grow.

The rest happens really fast. It’s March 07-- I take on more responsibility at work and therefore more EUROs --- and we are able to afford to live in a beautiful apartment by the Colosseum and each have our own bedroom. The apartment was nothing short of the most beautiful place either of us has had the fortune to live in -- I start feeling more and more at home.

In May I meet Jacopo. Will not have been the first time I’ve met him but this is the first date -- and marks a significant change in my Rome-life --- as I begin spending most of my free time with a native Roman, speaking Italian (and Roman) going out and experimenting for what will be the first time in a very long time a truly healthy relationship built on growth (and eventually love and trust -- we'll get to that).

The summer is beautiful. Lot's of Italian beach. Our company doubles in size and quadruples in revenue. It's the falling in love part, the pretty part. Emma comes to work for us as our new Communications Manager. When she first arrived at Dark Rome as we stood on the porch smoking a cigarette together and talking about creative ideas to move the company forward -- I said to her “You know, I’m really happy you’re here.”

August is the “watershed”. Jess decides Rome is no longer home and that home is in New York – with the boyfriend she left there and I’m glad for her that she knows what she wants but I’m sad to see her go. I’ve earned many a day off from work and we decide to finally take that European tour we’d been dreaming and scheming about the day we arrived in Rome.

Mid August we fly to Sardegna where we spend 2 beautiful days beach-hopping and swimming in beautiful crystalline waters. Then it’s a plane to Barcelona where for three days we shop and dine and shop and walk and shop and get our hair cut. Last stop for Jess is Paris where it rains a lot but we manage to get a feel for the city anyway. A tearful goodbye and I’m left to my own adventures.

From Paris I train-it down to Geneva where I meet my good friend Helen and stay with her and her parents in Evian, France. After a few gorgeous days “sitting up on an alp” and driving between France and Switzerland constantly, I fly home to Rome and back to Jacopo --- and from the moment I arrive at that airport and he is there waiting for me begins the much more serious part of our relationship--- we get that what we’ve found is much more than a summer fling.

Meanwhile back at the office our revenue has been continuing to build, and so has our staff and number of guides. I get a laptop and a blackberry and tons of new friends in the form of co-workers and I’m barely home. Half the week I live with Jacopo and the other half I spend between work and my friends --- especially Emma.

And my life from August has been a growing continuation of this goodness, this niceness – this – I’m finally-at-home-ness. With this is mind I finally went back to new york, Jacopo with me, to visit my family whom I had not seen in over a year. Emotional? Yes. Did it go well? Oh yes. I even got to see my Grumpa and Judi -- and ski in vermont with Jacopo and my mom and sister.

I've been back since mid January. Had my 24th birthday in a typical roman trattoria. Tons of my friends showed --- and the note of difference from last year resounded.

I moved into a new place. It costs a lot less than the pretty-colosseo-apartment and it's closer to work and to Jacopo. Jacopo paints it for me -- and I make one of the single most expensive item purchases in my life: A BED.

And so between various trips to Ikea -- a new promotion at work and planning my aventures for this year (i'm going to get my driver's license here!) -- i'm just living. And i'm going to start writing about it again.

And it's bound to be interesting.

So stay posted.

Update in a Hurry

2007-02-05T18:54:00.000+01:00

SO, it's been awhile, has it not?

I've been so busy with work that I haven't written about it. Not busy in a bad way at all, but i'm working with a zealous-ness that was heretofore unknown to me. I am supposed to be out of the office at 3:30. Usually im out by 7-9:30. Why? Because-- get this -- I actually enjoy it. More on that some other time.

And I feel a little bad because I can't spend as much time with Jess -- but it's actually done more good than harm. She's been getting out and doing things on her own, without my Italian to help -- something as simple as heading to the post office to pay for her French and Italian courses (she starts tomorrow!) -- or shopping for groceries -- since i'm away so much she's in charge of it now-- so her Italian is taking off. She can handle herself on the phone now and make plans with our friends, all in Italian. I get a kick from the look of delight on her face when she understands and makes herself understood. It reminds me of when I was living in Spain and just beginning to communicate. I'm happy about these classes she's starting because they are CHEAP (11 euros for three months) and will give her a focal point for advancing her language skills. Also, let's not overlook the social benefits of going to school. Work provides a limited circle.

Next week is Jessies birthday and I wanted very badly to take her to Paris but it's just a bit out of our budget for the time being. Perhaps, though, I have other back-up plans in mind! I was quite sick for my birthday but she bought me flowers and clothing in bed. Wasn't expecting it at all.. the sweetheart. So she deserves something nice.

So, as far as work is concerned... Jess works weekends at this neat little Irish pub called Finnegan's, just a 8 minute ambling walk down narrow streets from our front door, and weekdays she plots her own little business. This pub is much better than Giulio Cesare where she worked until the beginning of January-- the atmosphere is much more laid back and I can tell she likes it more. Hopefully with the tourist season coming up on our tails she'll go full time. In the meantime, we're doing just fine.

Beginning in March we might be moving up in the world -- out of our beloved Via Milano Palazzo and right next door to the Coloseum. Our Landlord, God love him, is still uno stronso but the place he is offering us will be cheaper than where we are now -- And who gets a chance to live next to one of the most famous ancient edifices in the whole damn world? Us. That's right... us.

On to me... tomorrow my boss and I are traveling out to Frascati to begin to make deals and plan for our company's new wine tasting tour (we deal in tourism, obviously). We are also on the brink of starting our Vatican tour -- and it's an exciting time to be a part of. This job has everything I need and look for: I feel indispensible, I feel appreciated, I feel like there is plenty of wide-open space for advancement and I look forward to arriving every day. Such is my luck with work. Plus, the job has great perks... last week we organized a tour for 108 engineers -- and they treated us to a fancy dinner. Can't complain. Also, Jess has been able to come on some of our tours with me so i'm thinking I can also bring her to the Vatican Museums and on the wine tasting tour, once they are up and running.

It's good to finally begin to feel settled. I have a feeling it will be longer than Jess and I originally planned before we uproot ourselves from the Eternal City and move to Paris or Geneva. We have certain goals -- 1) Save money for the next leg of the journey, 2) Speak Italian fluently, 3) Know Italy well as a country, especially the Lazio area where we live.

Recreation -- well -- we haven't been going on long trips lately, we're trying to budget for our trip to Paris and also to Valencia for Fallas. But yesterday was quite nice, we were supposed to go to Tivoli but we didn't wake up early enough-- so we ended up walking through one of Rome's oldest quarters-- Trastevere and up the steep Gianicolo Hill to see the sun set over rome while Eddy played guitar. It's Carnivale time in the city, so there were children dressed in costumes and the streets are littered with Pastel confetti, blowing along the cobblestones like fall leaves.

When we got back it was dark and we made boneless chicken wings with Frank's red hot and even some fried breaded zucchini... drank plenty of Birra for the superbowl that started too late to watch.. and now it's nearly 7PM and i'm gonna head home to Jess and dinner and chat excitedly about her French class tomorrow...

Sulphur and Endorphins

2007-01-15T00:18:00.000+01:00

“I've, tried my best to leave... this all on your machine...”

Listening to Iron and Wine (yes, again) at 11:47pm -- and considering all
the possible reasons that most public clocks in Italy are stopped forever at
some obscure time like "3:01" or "8:42", why they will never see the hour
and minute hand converge, why they will never to let the left-over soup of
tourists and those in-transit know how many minutes late their ride home
is this time, as they suck down Marlboro Lights in 3 second-pulls.

Time has changed. Until now, I've been trying to keep the updates coming.
I was being really scientific about it, too. This is where I started, this is what
happened after, and this is what I expect next. Then sometimes I'd follow up.
Life no longer functions this way. So I'm going to stop keeping track and just pour.
Observe:

Yesterday, January 13, 2007, what should be the dead of winter, I was two
hours northeast of Rome right outside one of the victims of World Word II,
the bomb-pocked medieval village of Viterbo. I didn't spent much time in the
village. My sister, Ed and I went almost directly to the "Terme" or baths.
Post-volcanic, free-for-all outdoor Jacuzzi. I boiled in sulfur for a
long-lazy afternoon, in water that the earth has been spitting up since
Dante Alighieri.

I've been in Europe for almost three months now. And I'm not settled in. We
are always waiting for something. Internet. A job. A cheaper room to rent. A
visitor. This past weekend was one of the few times I've taken to stop
thinking for a second. Ho fatto un po' di relax.

And i've finally been able to. I have a job. Jessica doesn't, anymore. But
that is OK. We have internet. HSBC seems to have restored our money to us.
My birthday is in a week. Today, as Jess and I walked home from the train
station after a lovely lunch with Valentina-- I was hit with a good feeling,
a bit of a wave the way it came over me, that I was very happy to be where I
was, happy to have Jess with me, and yeah-- life is difficult, trains show
up late, buses take hours to arrive and nobody owns a schedule, we lose jobs
as soon as we get them, our landlord is ripping us off, Telecom Italia is
ripping us off, we've been cheated and swindled, disappointed and frustrated
-- but yesterday it was January and I went swimming, and as of right now,
12:09am, 3:01, 8:42... right now, I am contentissima.

Livin la Vita Bella

2006-12-06T10:52:00.000+01:00

Arranged by topic.

The Need to Feed (and cook):

Three o-clock in the afternoon. Jess is half lying in bed, magazine in hand, studying I think. In a pair of below-the-knee stockings and jeans I find myself floating along the cracked white marble floor towards our kitchen. Within minutes I am mixing up a sweet crepe batter, smushing up fresh bananas with Nutella and milk, pinching nutmeg between my thumb and pointer, flicking it outward onto a tin of thinly sliced apples, over the soft brown mix of cinnamon and sugar already coating them. Heavily. The oven is preheating. My flatmate Eddie passes by the kitchen and watches me with amusement. My fork is still working the bananas as I slowly explain my sudden urges to cook and bake. I feel like I’m possessed by the spirit of some crazed mamma italiana. My pasta is always al dente and visions of olive oil dance in my head.

What is going on here?

One of my favorite critiques of my own self is my lack of “domestic” (in specific—culinary) skills. But here I am cracking eggs with one hand and measuring out flour and sugar by pure intuition. And, lo and behold the end product is edible. More than edible. I churned out all the side dishes for a Thanksgiving dinner for 7 and was left with clean plates and only a morning’s worth of leftovers.

This is good. Maybe I’ll be more marriageable now. Too bad I’ve never liked Italian men. They really appreciate this sort of thing.

And to eat? Oh eating is such sweet sorrow. That I shall be eating all night till it be morrow. Jess has a favorite image of me now, sitting on my bed in my underwear at 4AM after a particularly wine-bountiful night, a huge jar of nutella in my lap out of much I am consuming heaping spoonfuls—the chocolate all over my mouth and smiling like a goofy infant. I’ll never live it down.

But it seems there’s always something to eat around here. Someone is always cooking, there is always a bit extra pasta, a crepe batter ready to go in, a jar of Nutella and a spoon for those sporadic cravings.

We’ve consumed the Italian penchant for food, and damn-- it’s yummy.

The Cast of Characters:

We were, and are, an interesting smattering of housemates. There’s Jess and I—rightly christened as “The Odd Couple” for our constant kitchen and bedroom bickering. There’s Eddie who has a baby Taylor guitar, which ups his already very high cool factor. He’s from Boston and was the chef alla Tacchino (Chef of the Turkey) for our Thanksgiving feast. Then there are the Germans who left just a few days ago—but are worth honorable mention, Christoph and Julia. I don’t think Julia liked us very much. She carried her toilet paper with her back and forth to the bathroom and aside from the random “Ciao, come stai?” we didn’t hear much from her. They were both serious about their studies and are here studying Tropical Medicine on the Erasmus program (Europe’s version of study abroad). The day before they left we all went out to “Gelaton” our local, famed Gelateria for ice-cream Italian-style. Haven’t heard from them since. We use their old bedroom as a laundry-drying room now and dread the possibility of new flatmates. Eddie, Jess and I get along famously—and with random visits from the Australians (Jason, Chris, Steve, Damn and Nick) we’re a regular bunch of Brady’s. Just to give you an idea of the banter that goes on:

“I don’t like you. At all.”– Some of my first words to Steve, upon meeting him. He now takes the name “Stevil”.

“But going out would require showering!” - Jessica responding in the negative to proposed plans to head to a nearby pub—during a particularly cold-water period in the Palazzo.

“Where is that flippamajiggy thing?”– Me, enquiring as to the whereabouts of the spatula during one of my many “I dunnta speekah da ingleeeesh innymore” phases.

“La luce rossa! AGH!” – In reference to the little red light that switches on after our water heater stops functioning.

“Oh my God, you are disgusting.” – Jessica and I, to each other, at least 10 times per day.

“Make crepes.” –Jessica, to me. At least once per day.

“Oooooonnnnnnooooo. Oh, noooo. Oh, I mean--- Oh yes!” --- Me, making fun of Jessica’s “Italian stallion” Onofrio, oh so conveniently nicknamed “Ono”.

“Don’t use the oven and the washing machine at the same time! You’ll trip the circuit.” Eddie’s infamous words of advice.

“Is there any nutella left?” All of us, at random, frequent intervals.

“Piu vino?” All of us, at all hours. The response? Always, “YES”.

“No. We’re just friends.” - Me. All too frequently. (Many thanks to Eddie for pointing this one out. Stronso!)

“This is the Coliseum which was like a beehive for the ancient Romans. You see the holes where they used to fly in and out? They used to fly back then. Don’t know if you knew that. And inside, they make honey. And maple syrup.” – Jessica, upon my request that she give us an extemporaneous history of the Coliseum.

***As a side note, these quotes as said with or without the aid of the only functioning blowhorn in the house (there are two) which is sitting on the kitchen table. Seriously.

Soon to come:

1. The Paradox of Being Italian American
2. Italian Bureaucracy: A Complaint
3. Living With Jessica
4. Yellow Hostel
5. Cast of Character's, continued....

But for a small update? Current situation: we've decided to remain in the Palazzo for another few months. We're in love with the place and the location, so the lack of hot water or landlord attention are mere incidentals. On December 15th we have a technician coming in to see if we can hook up to the internet on a 24/7 basis. One day, probably a long time from now, a technician will come in and fix the water heater. In four hours I have a job interview to be a tour guide in Rome. On December 13th I have an interview to be a full-time tour guide with another company, for which I have to organise a 15 minute presentation on Caravaggio. Christmas will be spent in Fregene with Valentina and her family. December 9th Jess and I are going to a club with Valentina, for a night we've been waiting for since we arrived last month. Tix were expensive and apparently some great DJ will be spinning. It will be good to see Valentina anyway--- we haven't seen her since we moved to Rome. Jess works at a strange pub, on which I will write when I find a moment.

This is life, la vita, e la vita e bella.... Stay tuned.

A Roman Thanksgiving

2006-11-25T00:27:00.000+01:00

Last night I ate Turkey. Special order Turkey, from a macelleria. Whole turkeys don’t exist in Italy unless you special order them. Nor does cranberry sauce, unless you buy it at an international grocery store, for an obscene price. Tomorrow afternoon I have an audition to be in an Italian film. A real film with famous Italian actors. I am going to be awake tonight until 2AM waiting for my sister to get out of work. When she gets out of work we will go for a cappuccino with our carabinieri “ragazzi” (boys). How did I get here? Where am I going?

And do I care?

I barely know what to say, and there are so many ways I can put life in this city into words--- that I can’t settle. Weeks are passing. I’m not writing, I’m not sharing. But, by God I am living. I am getting out. I am having conversations. I’m not taking pictures--- I’m taking mental snapshots. I’m learning my neighborhood. I’m decreasing the need for a 10-fold map. I’m decreasing the need for an Italian dictionary. Really, I don’t even own one.

I’m in love with how I am living my life right now, and I’m damn happy. This is what I dreamt. It’s more than that. And it grows every day. I’m still the optimist, forever hopefully, never defeated. Spain was rough. Italy is a spinning, twirling, whirling ride--- and I’ll let you know if I manage to keep lunch down once I step off.

But for now all is well.

Jess and I found a very central room, in a crumbling Palazzo in central Rome. The walls are full of rips exposing the fading brick foundations. The busses passing at night make the entire building shudder. Pieces of the wall next to our fridge end up suspiciously in uneven piles on the floor. The floors are made of a yellowing white marble and the ceilings are high. There is little/no water pressure. Let’s not discuss hot water. We love it. I exit my medievalish wooden and metal door walk 20 feet. I look left, I’m looking at the Wedding Cake of Rome. It hits me in the same way NYC used to hit me. From what I hear not many people are getting the breath kicked out of them nowadays.

It’s a shame. I’m still gasping.

A Lesson in Cazzology

2006-11-17T01:07:00.000+01:00

We sit side by side on a double bed in an empty orient-deco B&B. The furniture hugs the beige stone floor and there are cherrywood masks peering from the walls with red beads. We are drinking green tea out of hand-painted clay cups and laughing. Laughing so hard that last night’s discothèque-heavy mascara is pouring down our cheeks. About what? Oh God, everything. The pack of cigarettes we smoke between us a day, the amount of carbohydrates we consume in the form of paste e pane, the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of our bed in a warm heap, and the desert beach town of Fregene where the waves can no longer be heard.

But as Jamesy said, and I concur, “I’m so happy. I’m happy to wake up in the morning.”

But as I sit laughing in Fregene with my sister, let me tell you about Spain.

If I could remember much I’d tell you more about the beauty of the north country or the history of Madrid. But I can’t. Most of you know the reason I went to Spain and I can now inform you it was a reason unfulfilled, painful in that un-fulfillment so instead I can tell you much more about what didn’t happen or what Spain wasn’t.

When we first arrived at the airport I was overwhelmed. Not to be in Europe again because I’ve already done it enough times for the novelty to be lost. I was nervous as hell and surprised I was able to fix my makeup in 3 minutes after two days of travel and layovers. It was a good encounter. We kissed just as he mentioned we should; almost on the lips but not quite—more on the edge of the mouth. A hint. And I was so damn relieved—we sat in the back seat together and I let the buildup of 10 months of phone conversations, over one year of holding on, collapse into an exhausted heap of letting go on his shoulder and I breathed out and kept breathing out and tried to be cool about it but hell you can’t be cool when you find yourself in a moment like that—you just can’t. At some point—I don’t remember how we got there because it’s all a blur – I turned around and he said Bienvenida a Espana and he kissed me and it felt so unreal, so hazy and so right and I swear I might’ve died right there. Happily. These may be strong words but this is how I function in this half-world with half-feelings and half-endings to half-assed relationships.

But there is where the happiness ends because over the next three days he kept drifting further away for reasons I couldn’t understand and couldn’t stop and by the end of the trip we were barely looking at each other. Switzerland, October 2005 repeats itsself. And I wish I could say why. I wish I could say oh well, I did this or he this and this happened and this is the reason but my life has never been that simple and why should this be. And when I’ve been blessed with so much fortune in my goings on why should I expect to have this too. It’s too much to ask to be complete. Am I too green to think I’m not there yet?

And so I’m not. So I left and told him I didn’t want to see him again and I swear I don’t remember much else from Spain besides that.

For the moment I’m quite alive, breathing in and out like a normal human being, and quite glad to be in Fregene—my sister is with me and she’s happy and we are enjoying ourselves and getting used to a life less-mindless where something as simple as doing laundry is a challenge. And we love it for the simplicity that entails and someday my love life will be as simple too. Until then I’m just thankful. I may never be satisfied but I can be thankful.

Spain was beautiful. To be in love is more beautiful and to lose is something of beauty in and of itself, in a retrospective way, and at the moment I’m searching for a mirror. If I get there, I’ll tell you. I can tell you right now that it may never happen.

And now that I’ve had my box of tissues and a chocolate bar I move on to the "little" I do remember, and I do treasure it.

I remember clouds spilling over blue hills like a soft and slow wave into a grain plain. I remember it whizzing by and the single grains blending into a low golden rain of sparks across the ground, electrifying the roadside with a warm glow.

I remember the clear pool after lunch, the way the moss hung suspended in the water along the concrete banks, the tiny fall colored leaves dotting the whirring surface, contrasting with flecks of green light bouncing off pebbles lining the shallow bottom, the day moving on, making a grand exit.

And dry, dry Madrid, the dusty thin air. Jamon which never did and never will constitute “carne”. History, history, wonderful history. History, what a tree with old roots feels like. Café con leche. That lovely spanish lissssp.

Maybe the whole damn thing was worth it, if only for what I remember.

My dears, it’s difficult to organize my thoughts concerning Spain at this point (which may explain the two week delay in my travelogue). Perhaps this wasn’t much of a travelogue. More like a public pity party and absolution.
-----------------
Fuck. I wrote most of that more freshly out of Spain. I'm in a better mood, having been happily distracted over the past few days in Roma. Sooooo.....

I'll stop being poetic now. It's taken me a few weeks to throw this post together --- but please by all means check out my SPAIN PICTURES http://albany.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2039773&l=733b8&id=16103479 (posted in facebook) and imagine how much fricking fun it was... and also check out my Spain video on My Space.
(www.myspace.com/kaebueno)

At the moment, I am blogging from a hostel in Rome, called "Yellow Hostel" and i'm feeling pretty good about Rome-- aside from the hecticness of apartment and job hunting. Jess is working at a bar and I don't think she loves it much.

But more on all that when I pull it together. Happier tales to tell-- so they won't be long in coming.

I miss New York. I'm not going back.

Write me, all of you!

The Snail Who Carries Her Work

2006-10-25T02:28:00.000+02:00

As I sit here and blog from a Starbucks on 57th and Lexington, sipping at my Grande White Chocolate Mocha and recovering from a serious cold--- I muse at technology and me and the world and moving forward.

Over the last few days I have been generating a proposal to the company I work for now in NYC. The proposal is to continue to work for them as a freelance Creative Consultant from Rome or wherever else I happen to be. This means I don't have to slow down or anything, as long as i'm putting in my 6 hour minimum per day I can be in Texas, Tahiti or Morroco -- it doesn't matter-- as long as I have my laptop and an internet connection.

This is the answer to everything. If I am, as an italian friend of mine once told me, a snail who carries her home on her back wherever she goes-- why the heck can't I tote my work on my shoulder in my laptop? Why the heck not?

And I don't see why not. And so I am drafting what I feel is a very convincing proposal. It helps that it was the CEO of the company, and not I, who first came up with the idea.

I would be doing design, formatting, editing and creative work. This can range from creating a powerpoint presentation and logos to checking for spelling errors. But my proposal goes beyond that. If it is successful I will post it here.

Next Tuesday, i'm gone. And so much has to happen between this moment and the moment the flight takes off. Anya, my beautiful, lovely, elusive Anya is coming to NYC this weekend -- after years of estrangement and her's is a face I will be happy to see again before I depart. Michelle-- my best friend of 17 years--- is coming back to NYC this weekend for the third time. I have to see Pru. I have to see Melf. I have to take a big ole pair of scissors and cut the cords that bind me to this city and i've gotta fly.

One week.

Oh my God...

Europe for Dummies

2006-10-19T23:51:00.000+02:00

Might as well say it all, now. Stop two is Rome. Amsterdam is only a 5 hour layover, but as the airport is 20 minutes from the city, we plan on taking a trip in for space cakes and prostitutes.

Admitting it.

2006-10-18T23:21:00.000+02:00

Besides the obvious joy it's given me to keep my destination a secret from most, i've also had ulterior motives for keeping that information sacred.

This is because stop numero uno is Madrid, Spain.

What's in Madrid, Spain?

The Spaniard.

Before you start reproaching me (well, for those of you that know the story--- there is no doubt you want to), please understand my motives.

Less than one year ago I was in a place where I would have dropped out of school, given up my dreams of traveling the world, been content to live in Zug, Switzerland where my skills did not match the job market, and married this man (which is a lot to say for a girl who doesn't believe in marraige), who I knew for barely a few months, but with whom I was crazily, if hopelessly in love. I really would have.

Digest that slowly. I know I had to, because I fought myself the whole time. Maybe it was because I wasn't ready. Maybe it was because I knew he wasn't right for me.

But the issue here is the MAYBE.

After we ended I didn't hear from him for two months. He disappeared. When I turned around and dissapeared back at him, he reappeared like a bunny from a top hat. I hadn't expected it-- and I was so happy to reconnect that for awhile I avoided the Whale in the closet. (I say whale because Elephant and Gorilla are now taken!).

The Whale? = the Who, What, When, Where and WHY. The What the hell for? The WHY did it end, WHY did he disappear? Where did he go? Who did he go there with? Was there someone else? When did he simply decide to switch that elusive little heart switch to off mode and WHY was I never able find mine? And most importantly WHY was he back now?

And over the past 10 months we've dealt with many of these issues; at the same time trying not to dwell on a past that can't be helped-- but trying to work more on what the future could be.

The future consists of a primary question; is there still something between us?

And even our most intimate of phone calls can't tell us like meeting again, face to face.

This is something I have to do. It's something I want to do. Otherwise I don't know why he and I speak anymore.

So that's my confession. I'm only going to be in Spain a week, and my sister and his brother will be with us to relieve any unforseen tension. Worst case scenario? We meet as old frieds. Best? That is what I am avoiding thinking about. For now.

I'm excited.

And i'm terrified.

The Problem with Goodbye

2006-10-15T20:33:00.000+02:00

The last time I saw my dog, I knew it was the last time. I was grateful, because you don’t always know it when it’s the last time. There is comfort in knowing; the knowledge gives you the ability to resolve yourself to the idea that there is going to be a loss. A piece of you is going to fade into the earth and you’ll eventually think less and less on it, so your heart is less full of that which is gone and more vacant for what might come and fill it up again.

I got down on the floor with her, and that wretched, knotted blanket, blue and white checkered and rubbed my cheek against her neck. She was earnest for the affection and couldn’t sound it because she was too weak but her movement was all toward me. I was crying, and the tears were on her fur. She knows me crying. Nine years and a family that couldn't stay the same for 9 seconds but she were there, a simple constant, a comforting present... nine years and I said goodbye to her in the afternoon and never saw her again.

But I knew.

And there’s the Spaniard. Ah, the Spaniard. I knew it then too, on the line to go through security in Zurich airport. It was like kissing a mannequin. He seemed eager to end whatever sort of goodbye it might be. I simply quoted to him “Why should he stay, whom love doth call to go?”. I thought I was smart for that, quoting Shakespeare in an airport goodbye. He didn’t understand, and, of course, I hadn’t expected him to. But this little self knowledge gave me the humor to turn to hand my passport to the security officer. It was only halfway down the corridor, past five or six duty-free shops toward my gate that I started to let the tears go, when I knew he couldn’t see or hear or care.

Grandma. I didn’t want to let go so easy and I grabbed at the couch cushions in the seconds after her death, as if getting a grip there might pull her back to this side of heaven.

But goodbye doesn't always mean tears. And it gets easier, with practice. And i'm used to being alone.

The Artist wanted to say good-bye before I was ready, and I wouldn’t let him. I’m glad I didn’t because it was a much pleasanter goodbye than it would’ve been. And when it finally was goodbye it was simple and easy and expected.

My family has said goodbye to me so many times that I can go to the airport without an entourage now. And I can arrive to a cab to pick me up.

I’ve even said goodbye to myself, hell

I'm about to do it again.

Because that's what traveling can be. An abandonment of the historical self. The ultimate goodbye. Goodbye to 22 years of living in a country where I never felt at home.

Home. That's the word i'm getting at. Or to. Because I don't really have one.

Right now I am living on a 17th floor apartment on the upper east side. For two weeks. This is the 5th bed i've called a temporary home since May.

Now something I understand well about myself, if this:

I'm not looking to find home in a place.
I'm looking to find home in a person. Or persons.

And i'm trying to figure out how to separate the places and people, and still manage to maintain meaningful relationships.

What matters to me are the people, the lovely, beautiful, insane people I have the joy to call my family and friends and coworkers and acquaintances. And I keep leaving them. Leaving them in the place THEY call home. And most of the time I leave knowing I will never see them again.

It's not like I can't keep in touch. My friend Michelle, who I saw just two nights ago has been a friend of mine for 17 years.

But we go months and years without seeing each other.

Even with my family.
Let's not get into my family.

This is it: I need to, want to, must, must, must TRAVEL--- but for all the good it does me, I have this one problem: the Goodbye.

And this is my little hope, my little future i'm creating and dreaming...

One day -- and I know it's got to happen, because it almost did before...One day I will find a home in a one person, and that person will come along on my journey, and I can travel on his path too, and somehow we can manage to carry the idea of home as a place inside us, and bring it with us wherever we go, needing only to be together to manifest it.

For now, It's nice to dream.
But my feet are far from tired, and nobody likes to go running these days.
When I find someone who's up for a good run, i'll write about Hello.

Foliage and Fear

2006-10-11T17:03:00.000+02:00

If the world were a snow globe, a five-year-old kid must’ve taken it and shaken it like a maraca on Cinco de Mayo --- because stuff is WEIRD. But, God, isn’t it always?

So as I take off from JFK on October 31rst watching the costumed and candied populace of these great States—I might feel like Gulliver fleeing the Lilliputians. But then that leads me to ask… what the heck is next?! Brobdingnag? Laputa? Balnibarbi?

Or home?

And as for the “weirdness”; I don’t feel at liberty to qualify. Not even necessarily a bad weird—but what can I say when I’m sitting in Vermont at one o’clock in the morning after a foliageful fall day, merlot in hand on a ooshy green reclining chair watching CNN with my grump-pa and the words “Nuclear” and “Arms Race” sneak up on me? It’s enough to tip a wine glass over. Thank you, North Korea. Thank YOU, world.

But there’s that and then I go on the next day and I’m looking at New Hampshire from the top of a hill in Vermont, and the leaves are bright, especially the reds because of an early frost, and the hill head is bare and windblown and the sky is extending into a blur and 24 hours later it’s 5:10AM and I’m on a train from Albany to NYC, watching what an ex of mine called “a dimming pile of nostalgic waste” float along with me down the Hudson into the sewage smells and smoke of New York City.

But then last night I take the express 14 home, which I never do because it runs so rarely in the eves. And, we’re going down the east side, flying, doing god knows how many miles per hour, and the great light in the sky is turned down just a bit, romantically, the Manhattan and Brooklyn Bridges delicate in the foreground, electric lights streaking past in the forms of TV through curtained windows and red brake lights, reflecting endlessly in side-view mirrors, the grey-blue smudges of evening clouds dense in the background like the silhouttes of soft mountains --- and downtown sandwiched between, but by no means overcome… and it goes on and I feel like it’s all so damn beautiful and I’m sad I’m leaving it but I think what I’m getting more and more now is this:

That it’s weird, everything, it’s beautiful everywhere and you just have to have the eyes for it, and the mind to take it all in, and adapt to it… like water.

A Letter to the Boss

2006-10-03T23:37:00.000+02:00

Two statements:

1. I am not a child.
2. I am not a lesser human being.

Question:

1. What the hell do I have to do to keep you from speaking to me as such?

Yeah. I get it. Sometimes to get people motivated you need to be impolite. You've got to break some rules. You can't be nice.

But what I want to talk about right now is RESPECT.

I know I work with you. I know I work FOR you. You have every right to request tasks, order me about and have a say in what I do while I work.

We've got to work on how you word your requests. Let's focus on your tone of voice.

Would you speak to your client or friend that way?

No.

Also, pipe down.

I guarantee ya there's nothing but a thin layer of skin and bone between your big mouth and my brain. I hear you. Point your blowhorn in the other direction and i'll still hear you.

So cut it down. Slow it up. Look me in the eye and say what you have to say. Baby steps now.

Let's try again.

Ain't dey purty?

2006-09-29T17:02:00.000+02:00

The Walking Exclamation Mark

2006-09-28T22:45:00.000+02:00

My favorite part of eating lunch is Bryant Park is watching all of the proper execs in their dry cleaned and pleated pinstripes take off their gleaming galoshes and cashmere socks and lay, expensive suit jacket, gelled quaff and all, back flat on the grass. They get wrinkled. They get dirty.

And they don't give a ^%$#.

It's lunch break, and that's the beauty of it. It's half-time. You made it through the first half of the day, the worst is over. And being in a little patch of green, I mean--- I'm not even talking central park here. This is just the New York Public Library. But to have this clearing space amid the endlessly obnoxiously jutting towers of midtown--- it's quite an experience. One I don't mind repeating every day.

It's been sunny lately. I spend the whole hour shoes off and face up, trying to stay out of the pale. But i've already lost the summer tan. And that's the first sign. Winter. It's-a comin'.

I wonder what fall will be like in Europe this year?

SO I picked up my passport and Jamesi's (Jessies nickname) passport. They are done. They are beautiful. Today was probably the happiest day i've had in a few weeks. One month to departure. I feel like a walking exclamation mark.

Ohhhhh the world is so big and so round and so shiny.

I'm so excited to discover it.

This Craziness

2006-09-21T22:20:00.000+02:00

Right now, a million things are happening, and another million are getting ready to happen... every second, on and on.

Mr. Smith came into NYC this past weekend, Hemingway is probably coming down next weekend, and I have a trip to Albany to plan before departure day. I have an angel halo and wings to buy (my sister is dressing as a devilette, and yes, we are checking in, going through customs AND boarding the plane in full costume) --- I have a final going away party to plan; at work, I am the only full time administrator left (two quit since i've been here) and now I am running around, papers flying about, desk to desk, trying to be all three of the admin positions and hang onto my sanity by the end of the day.

What helps?

These weekend visits from my friends. Talking about the Big Move with my sister. Dinners with my mumsy. Listening to my Dad play Dylan at night and i'm trying to fall asleep at 10:30PM. Wine and Hendrix on the upper east side with my cousin Evan. The Verazzano bridge. The Staten Island ferry. The New York Public Library. My philosophical after-work discussions with the Spaniard. The friendly Hello, Good Morning or How are you? Good Afternoon! from the express bus drivers on a day when you know you are going to be late to work or an extra hour in getting home at the end of a long long day. When my brother comes home and wakes me up to give me a hug and kiss hello then drags me out of bed so we can drive around the block five times in his car, which he fixed up himself.

I love it all, I do, the craziness of it-- and it's not so awful being home I guess-- it's just that the world calls, and I go... it's time, ya know?

It's like God wills it. My italian passport is being processed (when I thought it wasn't going to be ready until at LEAST next year)-- and i'll have it in my hand, all fresh and blank and neat and ready to defile with stamps from around the globe---- by next Friday. One week.

Where to first?

Hint #1: My plane arrives on Nov 1 in the morning in Amsterdam-Schiphol airport. But that means nothing. No more hints for now.

I think i'll post pictures soon. I've been doing much.

2006-09-18T23:40:00.000+02:00

My little sister (5:27:59 PM): hey hey its alayna and omg i found my soulmate!

Me (5:28:13 PM): oh no

Poor girl.

This is your flight Confirmation.

2006-09-12T17:04:00.000+02:00

I bought my plane ticket today.

My sister coming with me.

I am a happy girl.

Observatory

2006-09-07T19:19:00.000+02:00

Observations:

1. Now, in both the morning and evening commute, the sun hits the bus directly between the eyes. If the bus driver is nice, he will pull down the shade for us. If not, by November I will be blind
2. I like to sit in the front seat next to the bus driver on the express bus. Upside: the bus driver almost always wants to chat. Downside: the bus driver is not always interesting. I also acknowledge that if the bus driver stops short, the chances of me ending up splattered on the dashboard are quite high.
3. I fall asleep every night before 10:30PM.
4. I never see my friends. Most of my friends don’t even know I’m in the city.
5. My sister Jessica has become my best friend.
6. 25% of my paycheck goes to taxes.
7. 99% of my sanity goes to hell the second Monday morning begins.
8. I like my job, anyway.

More to come.

Yesterday, a line of 50+ police cars paraded down 5th Avenue, sirens going and blocking off traffic. That took about 10 years off of my life. I still don't know what it was about.

The Sixty Minute Commute

2006-08-31T00:19:00.000+02:00

There is a moment, in the morning commute along the BQE when from my view from the middle of a stuffed express bus, a slender church steeple lines up perfectly with the skyline silhouette of the Empire State Building.

There. Right there. It hits me. I'm a commuter. I'm a city-working-gal. I eat ten dollar lunches and buy unlimited ride express bus metro cards. I ride an elevator seventeen floors every morning and have a dual-screen computer at my desk.

Welcome to the Real World, Kae.

Turns out I got that job. The one I wrote the cheeky cover letter for. It works, I tell ya. So now I work full time, and make money, and spend it. So this is what they warned me about? What?

Ya know, I would tell older friends "yea I'm in college, almost done" and they'd look at me as though I was about to get hit with a 50 ton lead brick. So yes, they take ridiculous amounts of money out of my paycheck every week for taxes. Yes, life is expensive. Yes, credit cards and bills pile up.

Where's the brick?

I just don't get it. Maybe I speak too soon. After all, today was only my third day. I'm staying later because one of the CEO's invited me to a "Landmark Forum". It's supposed to be empowering, but how he speaks of it I'm afraid it's going to be brainwashing. It involves having an understanding of the different modes in which the mind works-- and from what I've heard so far I just don't agree. So it is dangerous to go. Because I don't want to disagree with the boss the first week on the job! But I can't help it... I was born to argue.

Which, by the way, I argued a ridiculous lap-top-fixing bill down by 25$ today. I dropped off my laptop last week to be inspected and they said a $55 diagnostic fee and they'd call to let me know any other fees. They didn't inform me of any other fees, and when my sister went to pick up the laptop today for me they told her the bill came to $110! All they did was clear the dust out of the case, because it had been blocking the fan and overheating the computer. So I went into the building bathroom and yelled for 45 minutes (as sweetly as possible) and we came to a compromise. Yes, I'll pay 20 on top of the diagnostic fee to have them wipe away some dust, and that is still rape. But forget $110. Are they insane?

So my laptop is home now.

That doesn't mean I'll have internet access, though. I need a new wireless card and all that jazz. Even then, I'll have to be at a Starbucks or library to log in.

I may intermittently blog.

In other news, I still live near a Muddy Cup.

As I texted to the Artist the other night, "it's funny how home follows you...home, sometimes."

And ain't it the truth.

Well let's see what follows me on November 1.

Well.

2006-08-24T16:01:00.000+02:00

Still, no acepto anonimos.

What a few days. Oh my.

Cheeky Job-seeker.

2006-08-18T23:13:00.000+02:00

Several days ago I was in a sarcastic mood, and I applied to a full time temp Admin. Asst position for a consulting firm in Midtown. They called me today for an interview. I'm going to start writing more cover letters like this. Enjoy:

Dear Sir/Madam:

Hello! My name is Kimberly and I've been working with computers since before they took the training wheels off my bicycle. Beyond technologically "comfortable", I'm technologically innate and have resuscitated many a dying computer from pestilence such as viruses or simple human error (deleting a necessary .dll file? we've all done it...). I'm a troubleshooter, I think on my toes and am absolutely trainable in all things tech-related. Just please don't try to teach me how to cook. For my current position, which expires this Friday, I've composed bountiful "How-To" manuals on using programs or fixing tech problems. I'm also a polished Administrative Assistant with 4 years of experience faxing, word processing, answering phones etc. I'm "phone-friendly" in that I am civilized and articulate, and I function extremely well under pressure. September and October are ideal for me and, based on your job posting on Craigslist, I am ideal for you. Attached is my CV for your review. Please contact me there is any further information you require.

I look forward to hearing from you!

Kimberly A. Elia

Tu. SI tu.

2006-08-18T20:39:00.000+02:00

Desde cuando?

...

2006-08-17T22:06:00.000+02:00

No acepto anonimos.

I Love Planes

2006-08-16T19:43:00.000+02:00

I've written several monologues revolving around a play I was writing last year, which I gave up on. I produced some all right work on it, and since I leave my job this Friday I need to remove it from the work comp and put it somewhere accesible, i.e. my blog. This is one of the monologues "Fear of Flying".

Ana is in the airport terminal. The arrivals and departures board is over her head, updating every few seconds. Airport sounds, people walking past in the background. She is pacing, smoking a cigarette and speaking to the audience.

Ana:
I’m going. I can’t believe I’m going. But I’m doing it. You’d think it’d get easier, right? Do it enough times and you start to feel safe. It’s never that simple. I’m thinking about it... right now... and my foot is ticking like an insane clock. Too much coffee, probably. No.
I got the fare really cheap so there’s no cushion, I mean, refund, free change of date, no, nothing like that. I’m not even sure I have travel insurance. I hate planes. I can’t think of anything more idiotic than a huge missile shaped tube of jet fuel with a bunch of people trapped inside, whizzing through the transatlantic air on momentum and a complicated system of wires and computers. It’s not even like it’s a direct flight there. 2 connections. TWO goddamn connections. TWO reasons for them to lose my suitcase. That’s FOUR more take-offs and landings and that is FOUR times the chance that the plane will explode with me in it.
The first is an 8 hour flight. The middle isn’t so bad. Once I’m up in the air I take a count of all the air-hostesses and make sure to ask each of them only once for a bottle of wine. The wine is shit, but it does the job. If I play my cards right I’m passed out cold for at least 3 hours of the flight. I’m still working on being able to sleep through landing.
There’s always that initial relief, after the plane stops floating on inconsistent, bumpy air and starts grinding sweetly against the gravel of the landing strip. I always feel like a sailor who has been at sea for months, finally able to feel stable ground beneath his feet.
The comfort doesn’t last long. If I somehow manage to avoid brain damage from the waterfall of suitcases during the mad-rush to exit and get through customs, then comes that other feeling. It’s the anticipation.
It’s knowing that he is closer. We are in the same building, the same terminal. How will he look? How will he think I look? Will we feel different when we see each other? Will he even be there? Did I remember to give him my flight number? Oh, God.
So you just imagine the state of mind I’ll be in once I go through customs. If I’m lucky and manage to get through without being questioned by border police (a scary breed of cop), I walk towards the gate.
I can really picture it now, the sea of faces. Signs of livery cab drivers, Mr. So and So for Such-and-Such company, families, flowers, balloons, tears, languages saying hello...
Then there’s him. That first catching glance. I wonder if we’ll run towards each other, slow-motion like. A perfect movie. He’ll be handsome, no doubt. Business casual. The silly smile that only shows through the left side of his mouth as his left eyebrow goes up in unison. The sigh of relief as we feel what it’s like to be in each others arms again after long months of separation. Walking away from the terminal, oblivious anymore as to where we are, enraptured with only each other.
I love planes. I love him. I love the planes for bringing me to him. And this time, this is a one-way flight. No countdown of days until the next “See you” no watching each other walk through the security check, no soft airport sobbing. Just hello, over and over...
This won’t be so bad. I’ve done it before.

I come and go like rain.

2006-08-15T21:28:00.000+02:00

SUNDOWN MARY
(Chris Gantry - Larry Baunach) Billy Walker
« © '68 Combine Music, BMI »

I first met Sundown Mary a year ago today
Travelin' the same road I was a goin' the other way
we talked and then she said you might be nice to have around
If you don't mind a layin' your head wherever the sun goes down

I've always been a loner never have no one before
But with every town we passed through I loved her a little more
And one night when I kissed her I thought she felt the same
But then the spell was broken by the whistle of a train

What have you heard from Sundown Mary what has she done today
Is she eatin' her food from the silver spoon and off of the golden plate
Is she in the chips in Texas or stranded broke in Maine
Do you know if Sundown Mary ever speaks my name
Ever speaks my name

We hopped a train to Boton Rouge the trip took several days
I had no idea that she thought of going seperate ways
There in the crowded station she softly spoke my name
And said it's time to leave you cause I come and go like rain

There's not much left of what you'd call the man I used to be
For in her place an empty space haunts my memory
Always broke and lonely I age a year a day
And when I get to drinkin' nights there's just one thing I say
What have you heard from Sundown Mary...

Cittidinanza

2006-08-15T19:05:00.000+02:00

A few years ago feels like not too long ago when I began to long arduous process to claiming my birthright, my Italian citizenship. Now, on Monday morning, i'm claiming it for my Uncle and for my sister, as well as securing my "Certificato di Cittadinanza" or "Certificate of Citizenship", which will function as a temporary ID until I can apply for my Italian passaporte.

Oh, it's good to be European.

What Now Is Like

2006-08-14T21:42:00.000+02:00

Inching towards the top of the hill
the incline is ninty degrees straight down
and there are is no restraining device

click, click, click...

Parisian Passages Continued

2006-08-13T19:24:00.000+02:00

This part was added as an addendum to my last posted journal entry about Paris in 2003.

*Remember when I wrote about us talking nasty about French people we don't like in Spanish? Well Corinne and I ran into these incompetant Frenchmen, once of which kept saying "Tomorrow" in English. I think that was the only word he knew. So Corinne and I talked about how we thought he was on drugs in Spanish. Then we told him our names were "manana" and "ayer" so he kept repeating it. It was hysterical.

*List of Nice French People*

1. Arc de Triumph boy was our personal tour guide and made our visit to the arc quite enjoyable.
2. The crazy man who begged the supermarket to stay open for us so we could buy dinner.
3. The guy who used his French credit card for Corinne.
4. The conductor who let me on the train and found me a couchette to sleep in.
5. The two young night train guys who told us we were beautiful american girls from the movies.
6. The people who would gladly offer a hand (unasked) when we were staring cross-eyed at the map.

August 8, 2003

Salut from Nice, France!

Forget Nutella for de-stressing; Nice is exactly what we needed. Cors and I were kinda groggy when we arrived this morning at 8AM. Sleeping in a couchette is not easy. I still feel the tracks moving underneath me. We made our reservations for tomorrow night's train to Venezia, and it went very smoothly. Reservations early from now on. We had some black coffee and croissants to wake us up, though it didn't exactly go over very well with me. Caffiene makes me too hyper. It took for-ev-er to find out hostal. We ended up walking up this huge hill. The staff was about to get an earful from me about their locationl; but when I got up there they were soooo sweet and helpful, and the place is an amazing bargain for what you get. I mean yeah, it's a hike up that hill, but we have incredible views right off the terrace where our room is. We are sharing a room with two German girls who have been there awhile it seems. They seem all right. They play good music, at least.

There is actual hot water, AND water pressure. Free (and good) breakfast and internet. Though the keyboards are a bit off.

The staff was wonderful and helpful and helped us with maps and gave us their time and attention. I love it.

Right now Cors and I are topless sunbathing on a pebbled beach. The pebbles aren't exactly comfy but it sure beats sand in your bathing suit. We are eating vegetarian tonight and making perfume tomorrow.,

I feel so much more relaxed and this is how I hope the rest of the trip will be.

Besos,
Kae (in Europe)

Notes:
*Toilet paper is pink in France.
*We found a NICE French waiter.
*Cors is a fraidy cat (of heights).
*We lost the wonderful sense of direction we had in Paris.
*I'm very tan.
*The old village is cute, but too touristy. (Something tells me i'll be using that sentence a lot)
*I bought a rasberry (framboise) liquor that can be had with champagne or white wine.
*Our rooms are adorable and nothing in the decor matches. Funky.
*Our Nice Pebbles.

Screaming into Space

2006-08-13T02:30:00.000+02:00

I feel like I haven't written a real, genuine post in weeks and it's starting to get to me.

You see, i've been overwhelmed. Not just in terms of work, class, stress, ... but something inside me just building up, needing to be let out.

But where?

I've never had some large, empty space of nothing nearby where I could go run to and scream, dance and cry alone. Loudly. Angrily. Sadly. Happily. And know that only God and I were witnessess to this highly irrational and unladylike outburst.

But I can't. Because there are people, everywhere. So I try not to scrape my teeth on my fork, or chew with my mouth open. I try to sit with my feet in the foor and look at people when they speak to me. I don't curse. I don't cry. I don't complain.

But this just isn't me. I'm most comfortable sitting in some contorted fashion, and my teeth are just not conducive to quiet ingestion by way of forks and spoons and forget knives! I love to talk and eat and when I have to separate the two I get all confused and mess up somehow, and someone is insulted, or disgusted. I curse in Spanish so noone gets insulted and it feels damn good and i'm so emotional sometimes I wonder that if I started I should ever stop crying. My complaints are many, and they must be heard.

I used to fantasize about sojourns into the desert, and feeling the boundaries disappear-- the further i'd get from people and structure the easier to breathe the air would become. These suffocating ghost walls would crumble and fade. I imagined i'd be open and pour out, and the cleanliness of Nothing and Noone would pour in.

Release. That's the word for it.

I wasn't born with clothes on, and I feel as though the world immediately threw a pair of snowboots and a parka on me (not to mention a pair of longjohns and ski socks) and i'm just trying to remove all the layers. I'm not through all that mess of fabric and self-conciousness. Not yet.

But i'm clawing my way out. 'Cause I feel best naked.

The imminent need to get out, get loud and get naked is whats been weighing on my mind for months now. It needs to happen. I think it will. My hope is that, this place where I am going, or might go, is the perfect wide open space of nothing where I can scream out loud and strong and uninhibited.

Kae in ?

2006-08-13T00:23:00.000+02:00

I think I may have decided where i'm headed come next month. I made a phone call today that really enlightened and encouraged me. It's a big secret though. I decided quite awhile back i'd keep my plans to myself until they came to fruition. Now i'm implementing that plan.

This may be the best or worst decision i've ever made, but i'm excited... and intrigued at the possibilities. As the person I spoke to today told me, this destination is my "fate".

May it be a pleasant fate.

Ahh I forgot...

2006-08-11T18:31:00.000+02:00

While on OKCupid, I did perchance come into contact with a rather nice looking cubamerican from Florida, living in NYC. Our linguistic styles jived wonderfully, and the same night we started electro-chatting we moved straight to the phone, where I affectionately saved his number under the name "Stranger". We remained strangers for some time, but chatted often... always me keeping a nice cushion of distance. A couple of months ago, when the Artist and I began, I decided to stop talking to the Stranger (makes sense, I was with the Artist). We didn't speak for awhile. When the Artist and I split for the first time, I went down to NYC, i.e. home of the Stranger. I wanted to give the Stranger a ring but decided it would be too strange. Ha. Anyway, that same weekend I received an e-mail from him asking que pasa and I decided to call him then. This ended up in an impromptu breakfast meeting that involved banter and omelletes. Also, nut butters. I had a nice time, but the visit was short and I didn't feel right about it. Something just told me to back off, so I did-- and aside from one or two text messages in reply, did not contact the Stranger further. Also, when I came home the Artist and I started back up again... which lasted a few weeks so again, I didn't feel right keeping in touch. I hadn't heard from him since.

Until this morning. I have an e-mail from him saying he hopes I grow up. Then he rephrases and says he hopes I become a much better person.

I suppose this is some reaction to my last post?
I'm sorry if that post insulted anyone. It was meant to be taken humorously, but you can't always suppose the same flavor for every palatte.

Hi Stranger.

I've grown up just fine thank you. I hope you're well.

Warmly,
Kae

Yippity Do Dah

2006-08-10T16:30:00.000+02:00

I'm a free trial freak. Especially for online dating sites. Match.com 10 day free trial? I'm there. Earlier this year I got a boyfriend (The Excritor) out of the free trial. But let me tell you something about Match.com. It's addicting. It's worse than nicotine. And I know, because i've tried both. Soon as the Escritor became the Ex-critor I signed up and paid (oh my god, yes, I actually paid) for a one month membership out of which nothing more came than a guy with a receeding hairline and a penchant for pints. We met once, but not again. So I cancelled membership, and signed up for some free online dating with OKcupid.com. Believe it or not the Ex-critor was the one who introduced me to OKCupid. Even more amusing is that part of the reason we broke up was because he refused to take his profile down from OKCupid. So I put one up.

Being free, I didn't feel the need to be clandestine about this one. I convinced friends to join. I dove right in. More success on this one. I didn't end up meeting anyone, but I made friends around the world... South America, Europe etc. that I enjoy conversing with and wouldn't mind visiting. I did have some shady prospects though. Like the amazingly beautiful bisexual girl from western NY who wanted to "share" a guy with, what she claimed was, a rather large phallus. Not that I entertained this thought for longer than a split second, but I spoke to her for awhile trying to figure out whether or not she was just fucking with people. Pun, yes. Pun.

But I was tired of seeing my exes profile, and I was tired of men, and I was trying to focus on school and take myself away fromt he internet. SO I deleted the OKCupid account.

No, after many months of abstinence, i'm back.

This time it is the eHarmony free trial.

This is how it went. My boss and I signed up, for the hell of it, at the same time. I figured i'd just cancel after the seven day free trial. Yesterday was day four, so I cancelled online and called to confirm.

Those bastards. So I get this guy with a really lovely voice on the phone, who starts telling me what a wonderful profile I have, how articulate I am, how compatible I am with others-- that I should really stick around and give it a shot because they'd hate to see me go.

I said no.

He said i'll give you two months free.

I said: Now you're talking.

Well then. So now i'm doing the eHarmony thing. It's interesting. Given, I don't get to pick and choose (oh how I miss the days of picture browsing on Match, there was something divinely satisfying about clicking the delete button on profiles) ... but supposedly the matches i'm being handed are "Highly Compatible" with me.

Like I care? I can't deal with a compatible match at the moment, because I couldn't stick around to cultivate a relationship. But i'm interested in people, that's what it all comes down to. Never know what might happen.

Extrange

2006-08-10T00:13:00.000+02:00

I love this time of day. The sun is at just the right angle to the floor to ceiling rectangle windows and the light is overwhelming the room. If I try to look directly outside, it seems as though the sky has been set afire, hot white and blaring. It's pulsating and beautiful.

Why am I still at work?

I was trying to write a paper. But my butt is starting to hurt so I figure I should write a post and get the heck out of here. I got some good news, looks as though my friend from Reading, England (must think of new name... hmmm.... Mr. Smiff would do just fine)... okay it looks as though Mr.Smiff might head to NYC in a few weeks. He would be a welcome international visitor, at a time when i'm loathing the idea of America. We're going to paint the town whatever colors clash most with red, white and blue.

Now that's all for much later. I have my pending trip to Montreal to worry about. I tried to call El Ex-critor, the "Ex/Writer" that is... and he was passed out asleep at 10PM as I was walking down to the Muddy Cup. I must call him today.

(*Speaking of missed calls, the Spaniard was supposed to call me today-- and since he has not, just to piss him off, i'm going to call him now and wake him up, because he's probably sleeping.)

Back to the ex-critor and Montreal. Spoke with Ma~ last night. Her ex-something is coming, too. He is actually driving us to Montreal. Cool. So it's going to be a weekend of French, Canada and ex-boyfriends. I can handle that. I hope.

I should mention, while on the topic of exes, that I saw my ex, Melf (first love, first boyfriend, bad break up, long story) this weekend after 2 years and 2 months of estrangement. It wasn't awkward at all. Nor was it awkward the next day, when I met his lovely girlfriend and saw his parents again, also for the first time in that long. It was a happy reunion on all sides.

It helped that for the I showed up 5 gin and tonics in the hole.

The two glasses of red wine I shared with them didn't hurt either.

Oh, but i'm moderating, I am.

I need out.

Possibilidades

2006-08-09T19:39:00.000+02:00

Eight whole days and not a post in sight. I've been in NYC, just got back yesterday at 1:15AM, and don't have at home internet access anymore. What did you expect?

I don't want to talk about NYC. That's for me. It went well, that's enough to say. It's all too big of a mess in my head right now for me to sort it all down into electronic ink.

Went to the Muddy Cup last night to do (what else?) internet and listen to some music and just get out of the house. I was watching this guy in a pink shirt who reminded me an awful lot of an ex of mine. I wanted to talk to him but i'm not extroverted enough. I'll have to work up some courage regarding things like that.

But it's focus time. It's crunch time. Graduation is in 1.5 weeks and I have NO clue what the hell i'm doing or how or why and i'm just grateful that i'm moving forward. The world will know where i'm at when I get there, not a second sooner. That is, come the end of this month I could be working for CBS and living in a snazzy apartment in NYC. I could be in Chile, teaching English and liasoning with NGO's working in Sustainable Development. I could be smoking Hashish with Valentina on a beach in Fregene, Rome or working on Organic Farms in Tuscany.

It all sounds lovely to me.

One last glut..

2006-08-02T23:05:00.000+02:00

Noone will be telling me to glut my sorrows on roses nor rainbows ever, ever again. This is because my British Romantic Poets last class is tonight, and my teacher, who quotes poety more than I do (and that's saying a lot) will no longer be my teacher.

It's been so lovely. I've enjoyed this class and the ideas that we've been tossing around all semester. It's driven me to the need to scream for the abstraction, but i've loved it notwithstanding... oh what I meantersay...

That's a word from Dickens for you.

Now reading Great Expectations. I wonder whether a book written on the upbringing of Estella Havisham would not make interesting reading?

But haven given that idea some thought... i'm inclined to say NO. Because that's what gives Estella her charm. We don't have her story. She is elusive, like the estrellas-- and we should hope to get no closer to the stars than to her.

For this same reason I hate to blog, and I go for blogless stints. It is the ONLY reason I could hate blogging. It takes away my inner life and puts it on a page for whoever to read.

Given, I don't write everything in here. Most of the really juicy stuff I leave out. Most of the important stuff never graces the net. In the past few days i've written, simply WRITTEN and not posted several intense rants-- on topics that are, of late, weighing heavily on my mind. Each time I thought better of sharing these writings with you readers and simply deleted them.

And it's a shame, you know? Cause it's my best writing. And it makes me feel sneaky and dishonest-- even though I am perfectly right and sensible in keeping a bit of me for me.

Finished translating Jessie's birth certificate and just looking for a chance to make it to the post office and send it off to Florida to be verified via 3-day-mail.

I'd like to mail myself to Chile.

Bennington to Montreal

2006-08-01T19:06:00.000+02:00

No Writer this weekend, but he gave me a call last night. Just jet lagged and tired and was back at home. But a visit is to be arranged, and i've worked it out, messily, but it's worked. Check this out: Ma~ and I are going to hitch out to Bennington to the Writer's place, then we three are leaving together for Montreal where we'll pass the weekend. How we'll get to Montreal remains to be seen. I'd like to see if we can hitch all three.

Oooo, lala. I'm going to practice my French.

I did see the Punk (and upon having seen him realized what an awful pseudo that was to choose) on Saturday and we got a 6 of Sierra Nevada and a 6 of Belgian White and a bosilla of tostitos and some mild salsa, deposited ourselves on my bare living room floor in front of a big fan and talked and talked.

Last night I finished off two of the Whites and a Sierra while trying to digest the first 200 pages of Dicken's "Great Expectations". By beer numero tres, the words started swimming and I realized it was time to stop drinking and get some sleep. I woke up at 5AM this morning to finish the last 50 pages or so... and read, standing, sitting, walking and bussing all the way to school, with that damned monster of a book (500+ pages) propped up in my right hand, my thumb along the spine holding my page, as pedestrians and cars swerved about me.

I finished it about a minute before class began this morning at 8:45.

Last night I also spoke to my sister Jessie. You see, i've been suffering much anxiety over the prospect of returning to New York. Driven by that anxiety, I started looking for fares outta here. I found some amazing deals for London and decent ones for Chile. I started to think--- I can do this, I can get out of here, there is nothing stopping me but me...

But I don't know.

Oh, glut thy sorrow on a morning rose!