The edge

sometimes the rage comes back when you least expect and just hits you in the guts with all its - forgotten - strength. It happened today. To this point I don't know exactly why.. but it did oxygenate by blood like nothing else can.

The thing is: I'm getting tired, edgy, bitchy and nervous. I despise people around me.. so much that it takes all the power of my rationality to bring me back to thinking they are actually lovely people. Which, in fact, they are.

Anyway, the rage triggered some highly philosophical thoughts.. as usual. Here it is.

I am more of a feminist that I would like to admit. I shiver with indignation in front of gender inequality and patronising attitudes. You know what I am talking about. I do agree with Dylan Moran on that any woman who spends hours getting ready just to walk the dog or whatever is doing it just to please men. I retch when I hear people saying the of course they will get married, because that is what is expected from women. I disapprove of traditional gender roles. I could go on. And yet, sometimes girls are so stupid, weak and annoying that I do think we might have called discrimination upon ourselves. I don't wanna generalize. But man the rage waves I get when I see those typically girly attitudes. I don't know.. maybe this general weakness that some girls display is a reaction to centuries of inequality. Maybe discrimination does weaken you. Either way. Whatever the reason. I get furious around stereotypical girls. To tears.

End of the angry rant of the day.

John Barleycorn must die

Sons and Lovers

I started reading D.H. Lawrence masterpiece after what it felt like years that I hadn't read a novel. Obviously it has been less than that, but somehow I had forgotten that magic, relaxing feeling that only novels can give you. The infinite pleasure of lying down with a good book and let time disappear altogether. Joy. Pure Joy.

Here are two quotes that today struck me like lightening. Like only good quotes do.

He had denied the God in him.

Sleep is most perfect, in spite of hygienists, when it is share with a beloved. The warmth, the security and peace of soul, the utter comfort from the touch of the other, knits the sleep, so that it takes the body and soul completely in its healing.

Political Thoughts in random order IV _ Freedom

And so it happens, you know, some times the people make their voice heard. Screaming off top of their lungs from the mute voting paper. All very pacific. One cross expresses a preference. Millions of crosses scream "we don't want you anymore. we are fed up." And, as it happens a candidate - or a group of - wins over another and a party gains more support. And squares explode in celebrations. People celebrating throughout Italy, like crazy. People overjoyed. People celebrating freedom. Or the first step towards it.

This should tell you how bad the state of Italy is. Elections are routine democratic institutions. A candidate winning should not equal freedom. And yet it does, in a big way. It does because the feeling is one of oppression. So yesterday's results resound like a warning shot for the revolution to come. Even I, from miles away, felt it. The shiver of excitement that no one else could quite understand "freedom. L'Italia s'è desta. finally." But, again, it shouldn't be. Oh Italy! How did we get there?!

John Barleycorn must die.

Reflections..

.. sometimes you wonder what it is that makes you win the battles you win. I, by default, do not consider myself to be particularly worthy of anything.. and yet I find that I am extremely lucky in life. Maybe it's true what Michael Marmot has been preaching for four decades that if you come from a privileged background, you just win at this game a priori. Maybe I have some merits after all (although I'm not comfortable with that option). Or maybe it is as the Greeks put it and too much luck will result in some major catastrophe, which I will have to look out for. I do not know what the answer is. What I know is that I have been pretty damn lucky in life. I don't know whether I deserve it or God has just been too kind with me. I don't know where it will lead me. I don't even want to try and read something into it. I'll just take the fruits and give thanks. And I am not just talking about my achievements. I'm talking about the people I meet that make my life worth living. And the experiences I make blindly, following the instinct of the moment, that turn out to be not only amazing, but also useful later on. And the totally inherited and not at all conscious gift of making people like me. For all this I praise the Lord. And my parents. And all those who accompanied me in this crazy roller coaster of a journey making every bit of it totally amazing. You know who you are. Thank you.

Christmas Carols

Beer the Turtle

There was once a turtle called Beer. He was crossing the road when he got stuck on a piece of gum and he couldn't move backward nor forward. In that moment a car came and run him over. But he didn't die. His shell however, got cracked. The driver stopped, came back and filled the cracks of his shell with crack. That made him feel better.

Hip

There was once a girl called Hip, who fell off a cliff and landed on her hip. Falling, she banged her head against a rock and her brain popped out her skull. Luckily a man was passing by and he put her brain back into her skull. She was so grateful that they had sex. But before they had sex a snake bit her in her ****** but she didn't realize thinking it was the man. So the man had to suck all the poison out, and saved her one more time. And then they did it doggy style.

Identity.

This morning's lecture was truly inspirational. The guy was awesomely cool and I found myself agreeing wholeheartedly with everything he said. Which in itself is a first. He was talking about ethnicity, racism and inequalities and inequities and I suddenly found myself struck by a somewhat distressing thought: I don't have an ethnicity. I suppose that's partly because I'm white middle-class and all that.. but once the thought had appeared in my mind I couldn't stop thinking about it and I realized that I do not define myself in anyway. Pondering over it I found that I never fully identified myself with what it means to be woman in the traditional sense of the term; I wouldn't call myself straight nor gay nor bi; my passport says I'm Italian but I don't really identify myself with that either, nor with being English (despite the fact that I do love the Brits..); I was brought up Catholic but I beg to differ on many of the things that religious belonging implies; yes my skin is white but that doesn't really mean anything to me. What does that make me?I suppose you could say I don't have an identity. And yet I exist and very much so. ---> Epiphany!

Gender, nationality, ethnicity, culture, religion etc.. they don't exist! they are social constructs. The argument is slightly different for sexuality but that has come to have a very strong social component too. I mean, they exist. But the way we define them, the idea of what it means to belong to any group, is very much socially defined and highly stereotypised (ok that's not a word but it is now..). Personal identity goes above and beyond any of those labels. Those are just stereotypes no-one in the world really matches. And yet, people seem to be giving a massive shit about it. If you think of it, the moment you define yourself you also draw a line and define "otherness" therefore laying down the first stone towards discrimination. So the logic thing to do would be not to define yourself. Why, oh why, do we feel the need to restrict our identity to a few, inaccurate labels?

Wait, I know the answer to that.. it brings us back to the good old group and violence theory, good old Renèe Girard and escape goats. In short, people choose to homologate because when something goes wrong the group will pick on anyone who's different and kill them. And no-one wants to be put in the middle in that situation. Fair enough. I suppose you can't escape that. Wait, can't you?! Well probably you can't, but what you can do is to join sides with the escape goat. Throw yourself in the middle. Which doesn't mean repudiate your group belonging, it just means you choose not to see the line. That's it, that's the trick. That is what one of my favourite men in history has been trying to teach us for centuries.. that's what it means to take your cross and follow him. Don't be scared of consequences, don't be afraid of being the escape goat, cross the line that defines groups of people.. because actually there is no line......... we are all human beings after all.

John Barleycorn must die.

When the alarm goes off...

.... and then you start dreaming. Eyes wide open, brain in full function. And yet you dream. The dream takes form in your head and you can feel what it would be like if it were real. You know, those sensations, emotions.. the ones you lack in real life.. they'd all be there if the dream was real. It would be nice and warm. A place where to curl up and feel protected. Days without anger and frustration and fears... no voices in the head either. You feel it. You feel the warmth.....

.... but, as usual it's just an illusion. Not going to happen. Fine. Something similar? Not as perfect but close enough? Neither.

Just get on with it.

time...

... my yellow shoes are dying. I put them on today and realised they are (literally) falling apart. Ready to be tossed away.

Whoever has known me in the past two years knows just how much those shoes mean for me. And now they are dead. Time to move on.

Looking at them today I started thinking of all the fun, crazy, important moments I lived wearing them. All those memories were suddenly slightly too much to take and I had to sit down. What now? Do I want to buy another pair of yellow shoes? They are beautiful, but the new pair will not be the same, would it? It would be just like trying and carry on with a worn out relationship.. or scream and fight to avoid getting old.. But, what other shoes would I like now? what do I feel like? What would represent my identity?

That I do not know.

Beautiful metaphor of my life.

Time to look ahead, but to where?

C.S.S.D.

Procrastination

It appears that booze is the key to a faster and more productive work schedule. I can go with that.

Why oh why, when I ask for synonyms the internet gives me tips to a flat belly?

The internet is for porn. gossip. lies. and frustrated deluded wankers. and a lot of other interesting things.

Three years at university teach you how to rephrase the work of others in such a way that you know it's plagiarism but your lecturers won't notice.

Note to self. Remember to save work every five minutes. Least it will all crash. again.

There's a seagull in my laptop. Oh no wait, it's actually outside. Pheeeew. That would have been weird.

Political Thought In Random Order III_ The end.

I am watching the slow, but inexorable suicide of my country. I'm watching from far enough feel safe, but that doesn't stop the pain and rage.

Italy is NOT this. Italy is wonderful, warm, chilled and friendly country. Full of culture and art and amazing people. I still believe it, despite the many efforts to convince everybody of the opposite. I believe it, but I'm losing hope.

Silvio Berlusconi is the personification of everything I hate about Italy. The arrogant ignorance, the rowdiness, the lack of respect for everything and everyone. And yet is in power. He is transforming the country in the larger version of himself. And, what worst, he is destroying everything that is good about Italy. This is unacceptable. This enrages me. To tears.

Italy is so much more than that. There is a lot of good in the country. And yet, that voice is not being heard. Why oh why is Italy not rebelling to this bleakness? I'm waiting for my country to show some pride and back-bone. But I fear I'm waiting in vain. What happen to the fight, the protest the rage?! Where did those go?! What happen to Guccini, De Andrè, Gaber, Cyrano, the dream?! Come back! this is the time, if there ever was one to stand up and make your voice heard. Do it. Do it now. Please. Or it will be the end.

Perhaps, this is what sadden me the most. No-one is standing and fighting. Did we all grow brain washed, passive and lazy? Did Berlusconi succeeded in that?

I sincerely hope not.

Destati Italia.

Oh days, oh months that run away so quickly....

Yet another year has come and passed. It's music has finished. As usual, we look back and think. Even if our judgement seems slightly altered by the copious amount of food we've been stuffing our faces with in the past week or so.

This year has started in tears and is finishing in a slightly mental state of grace. Which is what life should be like so it's all good. In the meanwhile I have managed to say goodbye to Cambridge without shedding too many tears. Although I did go nuts before and after the fateful day. I've also somehow managed to face my monsters and sort of defeat them. Hence the holly bizzarre state of grace - deep grace - of the present day. Here are a few of the things I have learned over the past 12 months. Or drops of wisdom for the future. In no particular order:

It's easy to blame other people for our flaws, but we have to keep in mind that ultimately we are responsible for who we are.

When you feel the world is closing in on you and you'll never see the sun again, just remember in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow lies the seed that with the sun's love in the spring become the rose. Or in short, time heals everything.

Most of the things that seem huge to us, will appear small and stupid in a few months time.

I'm not a fighter (already knew that), I'm a dreamer. And I like to keep my dream as they are. Which probably means utter failure in the realm of reality.

To love is to put other people's happiness before ours. And to let them go.

Knock, and it will be opened. Ask, and you will be answered.

Perhaps nature makes us dull and boring in old age on purpose. So that when we finally go, those who love us will suffer less.

For every life that come to a close, few fresh ones are born. The cycle will continue non-stop.

I'm not ready for real life. And probably will never be. Fact.

One person is enough to redeem a whole country in my eyes. Which leads to the consideration that no, I have no faith in politics and institutions but people, oh, people they can change the planet for the better.

Find your center and you are sure to win.

Never allow someone to be your priority when for them you are just an option.

The one and only thing that makes me really, deeply happy is to be with people. Feeling useful for my friends and spending time with them is my vocation. As cheesy as it may sound.

Me gustas los pinguinos.

The Cave

Yet another 4am drunken post. (well almost 4am.)

Clubs are the worst place to get all philosophical.But, again, I can't help it.. As Plato rightly put it, we are all in a cave and what we see and experience are just projections of a higher life. Merging it with Pirandello, one could argue that we live in millions different caves and the life we believe to be living is only the projection of our on mind.. My cave is notoriously an odd place to be. And I need to keep reminding myself that, yes, most of what I think other people think or feel it's just part of my mind. I see people doing what I hope them to be doing or feeling or thinking. I know, I know. And still keep falling in the same old mistake of trusting that it might be real. It's not. And the more I secretly want something to happen the more I project on people my desires; the more difficult it gets to stay on balance. Keep your balance dear, it's not happening. Despite your deepest wishes. So here I am at 4am, agony a glass of wine and the need to scream.

And yet I know, probably thank to age, that extremes and drugs are not the way to break free from the cave - despite what people might think. I know now (now we know) that is a matter of being able to win the battle with your innermost self. This is joy. Even if covered in pain. Hence, new resolution. However difficult this might prove I shall win. I ought to. I have no choice.

So everybody please say with me: "what are u doing in a cave?!" but with a scouse accent.

John Barleycorn must Die.

On freedom, politics and morality

I guess we never are free. Well, no, I don't guess. I know. We never are free. We are shaped and constrained by culture, time, country, social class and personality. And on top of that our freedom has necessarily to end when other people's freedom start. Hence, we basically are confined in a tiny tiny space. Which is rendered even smaller by others' judgement. We don't only refrain ourselves from doing something because it would hurt other people, but also because we fear their judgement. Thus, living with other people makes us slave of impression, conventions, images projected in the mind of others..

... and yet, some people are freer than others. Like with animals in farms and equality, some people can. Or, better, can afford to ignore the judgment of others and brake those non spoken rules that allows society to exist. They are, we say, above morality. I never was a big fan of morality per se; stupid instrument of confinement, or excuse for atrocities as it is - but morality, in a broader sense can be considered the name we generally give to those things we wouldn't do for respect of others.

So, if you live in a country whose prime minister doesn't know what respect of others means you have an issue. Well, not you. But the country. Berlusconi is behaving amorally, say the media. I disagree. He is stating his power. He is shouting in the face of everyone else that he can have orgies with under age prostitutes, abuse of his power and etc, and don't feel ashamed. (oh the shame the shame the shame) No only, he is also sure that whatever he does, none will touch him because italian politics is not ready to substitute him with anyone. Hence, he is robbing in to all his fellow italians that he is above and beyond the rules we all submit to.

Not nice, is it? especially because this is not a competition to state identity and power. Politics is about representing. A prime minister who's mainly concerned with reminding his citiziens how much better (faster, stronger) than anyone else he is - is showing just how little he has understood of that thing called politics. And a country who stay still and accept that is just showing how little they have understood of democracy, and how little backbone they still have.

John Barleycorn must die

London is calling and I.. I live by the river..

The river is miles away really. =(

London is the best place in the world for people watching.

My wardrobe is not cool enough for London..

I have a job. Or something like that.

Avenue Q is amazing. Made me feel light and happy.

Love been the youngest in my course.

I found that I can be a social butterfly. Loud and histerically smily.

I wish I has more time for people watching.

Got converted to ultimate frisbee.

I can walk anywhere in London.

Dislike the tube at peak-hour.

I have new clothes.

Went to see the recording of a TV show.

Plan to go on a celebrity hunt.

Loud music is the way forward.

Don't actually mind french house.

I smile every time I see business men (or women) in full suit and trainers.

Freshers

new uni, new life. or sthe like that, naturally...

I'm loving my staying in london. Loving having a proper fresher week. Loving being strong and mature enough to not care about anything. And yes seghe mentali will come... I can see them on the sky, as big as colourful butterflies... mmmmm.. but as I said che serà, serà. this time I'll let whatever will be, to be.

John Barleycorn must die.

Rage

Rage (and hate) has been my nest for oh, so many years, and now I need to get rid of it. To destroy my best defence all at once.
Am I mature and strong enough to do it?
....
....
we'll see....

John Barleycorn must die

The end.

Not really the end yet. Still a week to go, but the feeling is the same.

The three best years of my life come to a close and I find myself dealing with empty feelings that can easily be summarised in a question mark.

What is gonna be next? Whatever it is, it's not gonna be the same. There will be no Fitz, no Cambridge and no strong emotions associated with them. Fact.

I think I made the most out of these three years. They will remain as definitely the best, and in 20 years time I will be able to talk about Cambridge with that sort of nostalgic lover look so characteristic of alumni.. oh dear.

I get the sneaky feeling it's all gonna be down hill from here. This should be the beginning of my real life, when the excitement of challenges, maturity and responsibility begins. And yet I find it hard to feel anything but a strong sense of nostalgia and apathy towards the future. Cambridge was the peak of my life and the rest it's just gonna be slightly disappointing.

Probably not a good mood to start life with....

.... eventually I will find the time to cry.

For now, let's all drink lemonade.

The end.

Heat

There's a spider on my laptop.

It's red. It goes up an down.. moving all around the perimeter of my screen.

It's hot.

The weather, not the spider.

But presumably the spider is hot too...

Wish I didn't have to revise and could enjoy the sun.

It's not gonna last.

The sun, I mean, but also the revision.

Cram, cram, cram.. for what? in two weeks is gonna be over.

What is the point?

There is no point.

It's like a sailing boat in the middle of the sea. No wind. Total calm.

Time will stop. And rush forward. But always giving you the impression there is no tomorrow.

Always, with the sun burning your skin.

We need a storm.

Rain on skin. Bare feet on grass.

The spider is gone.

Need sleep.

emails

Why can I never bring myself to write an email, even when my life depend on it??

There is something intrinsically wrong with me..

John Barleycorn must Die.

joy and pain

red and blue