name your price

just last summer i turned down an unexpected (and unwelcome) gift. i felt i was being bought out, lured with palatable (meh) objects in exchange for some sort of forgiveness, or my affection, or both, may well be. i was so determined in rejecting said bait, without the slightest doubt.

and now? why can't i do the same now? maybe because the object i am offered is indeed more desirable (and desired)? but isn't this also an attempt at buying my affection? my acceptance? my forgiveness? me?

was i rejecting a past that has no reason to exist anymore? the chance of being reminded of something i'd gladly erase from my memory? and now, am i willingly accepting the fleeting possibility of a future that's not so painful and disappointing as the past? or am i just merely, disgustingly taking advantage of the possibility of saving money and not having to pay for something expensive myself, so that i can get something else i want?

i can't make up my mind. i can't understand if i'm rejecting people or principles here. it's confusing. the only thing i know for sure is that i should be happy and grateful to receive something, anything.

so why am i not?

~sappy moment~

http://www.nygirlofmydreams.com/

i want to be the girl of someone's dreams...
please find me...

and on that note...

the way you laugh at me is *exactly* the reason why i keep silent. it's the impalpable gasoline that just perfectly fuels the inextinguishable fire of my perception of inadequacy.

thank you, so much.

1, 2, 3

Today I had the piercing epiphany that I have been unable to verbalize for a long time. All of a sudden the concept hit me in the face, swimming upstream through the cascade of your nebulously conceptualized explanation of an equally incomprehensible (uh huh, to moi and moi alone, don't I feel special) blabber.

I'm fraudulently participating in your world.

Too practical for your abstractism, it still takes me a leap of faith to assume you can take me seriously and allow me to pretend a little longer. Just the handful of months it takes me to get out of here, don't worry. I'll be gone before you know it. Or notice it, not that it makes much difference in the grand scheme of your world. Bottom line is, I paid the multiply overpriced ticket which entitles (wtf?) me to a front-row seat, witnessing my own beating ~ psychological, what are you thinking? ~ and I come to terms day after day, talk after talk, with the realization that I'll just never live up to your expectations.

You know what? I'm ok with it.

I learned a long time ago to respectfully bow, and gracefully make myself scarce. One moment I'm here, you see me, you hear me, you smell me, you notice me [stop staring, will ya? i ain't a fish in a bowl, just mildly amusing] you deal with me. One moment I'm here, and the next
I

am

gone

Miss?
me?

“Escuchar es lo más peligroso, es saber, estar enterado y estar al tanto; los oídos carecen de párpados que puedan cerrarse instintivamente a lo pronunciado”

[j.m.]

is this...

... enough?

~ two ~

No les basta mirarse y saber quiénes son con una certeza y un orgullo que
* It is not enough to look at each other and know who they are with a certainty and a pride that
nunca hasta ahora habían conocido, como si fueran cada uno el único
they had never known until now, as if they were each the only
espejo posible de la cara del otro y también la única figura que sus ojos han
possible mirror of the other's face and also the only figure that their eyes have
deseado mirar: quieren encontrarse en el tiempo en el que aún no se
desired to contemplate: they want to meet in the time when they didn't
conocían y en el mundo en que ninguno de los dos había nacido, y les
know each other yet and in the world in which none of them had been born, and it
parece que en todo lo que averiguan y se cuentan, lo que despierta tan
seems to them that in everything they discover and tell each other, which awakens so
simultáneamente en ellos como la intensidad casi dolorosa con que se les
simultaneously in them something like the almost painful intensity brought by
revelan reinos desconocidos de sus cuerpos gastados por el amor y revividos
the revelation of the unknown kingdoms of their bodies exhausted by love and revived
más allá del límite del entusiasmo, del miedo y del desvanecimiento, hubo
far beyond the limit of enthusiasm, of fear and fading, there was
desde el origen un impulso de predestinación o un azar que sin que ni ellos
since the beginning an impulse of predestination or chance which, unbeknownst
ni nadie lo supiera los protegía y los preservaba, los fortalecía en el
to them or others, protected them and preserved them, strengthened them
infortunio, en la soledad, en la equivocación y el destierro, nacidos cada uno
in misfortune, in loneliness, in error and exile, each of them born
en un extremo del mundo y sin la menor posibilidad no ya de conocerse
at opposite corner of the world and without the smallest possibility not only to know each other
sino de poseer algo en común, tal vez sólo las tonalidades azules de los
but to have anything in common, maybe only the light blue tones of the
paisajes que veían en la distancia de los días más claros.
landscapes they could see in the distance on the clearest days *

[amm]

~ Reality bites ~

Mi hai rubato l'esistenza Everyone hides
Soffocato la speranza who they are
Hai inquinato la mia vita at least some
Hai aperto le mie vene of the time;
Mi hai costretto alle catene sometimes you bury
Calpestato la mia ombra that part of your soul
Mi cancelli la memoria so deeply
Mi hai buttato giu' in galera that you have
Hai gettato via le chiavi to be reminded
Sei il veleno che e' in me it's there at all.

~ eyes ~

Era la primera vez que me atrevía a mantenerle descaradamente la mirada a un hombre, sólo porque sí, porque me gustaba, y en aquellos instantes se concentraron todos los sueños, aventuras y zozobras del amor imposible, tuvo que notar lo que significaba para mí, no pestañeó, todo él destilaba una luz oscura de complicidad, de deseo compartido, me estaba arrastrando a los infiernos y yo sabía que lo sabía. Por fin bajé los ojos en un estado de total ebriedad, de placer, y cuando los volví a levantar, al cabo de no sé cuanto tiempo, la canción era ya otra y él se había ido.

[It was the first time that I had dared to stare at a man directly, just because, because I liked him, and all the dreams, the adventures, the anxieties of impossible love were concentrated in that instant, he must have seen what it meant for me, he didn't blink, all of his being oozed a dark light of complicity, of shared desire, he was dragging me to hell and I knew he knew it too. Eventually I lowered my gaze in a state of complete drunkenness, of pleasure, and when I raised my eyes again, after I don't know how long, the song had changed and he was gone.]

[cmg]

Fact

eggs
have no business
dancing
with
stones

The Mask

~ slow me down ~

~ 3 am ~

There was a time when we used to talk,
When we used to laugh and we used to walk;
We would open up like never before,
There was a time, but now it’s no more.

Started all by pure chance, on a February day,
(“that’s quite a coincidence!”, I heard someone say);
The top of a mountain fit all in two hands,
It was all so spontaneous, no games and no plans.

A walk up some stairs, from the roof we'd see lights,
You gave me the gift of some wonderful sights;
Then I’d meet you outside, and underground too,
(Where unexpected was one, even more it was two).

We’d stay up for hours, we’d type on and on,
At times it so happened we’d stay up till dawn;
We’d share many details of our private lives,
So trusting each other that we’d tell no lies.

We’d share in our passions, and our beliefs,
Of each other’s time we would be the thieves;
I’d listen to you speak of airplanes and cars,
(Your expertise stretches from here up to Mars!)

We’d talk of perfumes, shoes, dresses, and jeans,
You’d even explain what a fashion term means;
You would ask me questions ‘bout my favorite food,
We’d write crazy fiction if we were in the mood.

You showed me the path to the shutterbug life,
You laughed at me, “Hey! Come to school with a knife?”
Shared music and videos, “Top Gear” and its fun,
Our chats never skipped the chance of a pun.

And from across the world, come whatever may,
We’d make it a point to talk every day;
I’d post pics of the things I would see, eat and do,
So that you would feel you somehow were there too.

By the way I would type you knew if I had to vent,
(a shoulder to cry on, that’s a gift heaven sent);
I’d feel if you suffered, I cannot explain
The reason why I could sense all of your pain.

And when for a long time either was gone,
The other would text or call on the phone;
Watch out for each other, make sure we’re all right,
Something like this, there’s no way you can buy.

The pleasure to talk, and even to share,
It isn’t that hard if the willingness’s there
To listen and care with a wide-open heart,
A beautiful friendship in which to take part.

There was something else (well, how can we lie?)
We would joke about it, and as time went by
More and more people (delicately) pried;
With a blush and a smile, we firmly denied.

On only a few days we didn’t communicate,
When I was on a plane, or you drove state through state;
Now we chat every day, although we don’t really talk,
We barely hang out, and now never walk.

Been away two long months, no chance we could meet,
So I’d hug you while standing on the tip of my feet;
You’d bend over – you’re tall, and stretch up to the sky,
Or you’d pick me up, it felt like I could fly.

You know, it is sad, for I sincerely miss
The sweet, fun, daily dose of pure, simple bliss;
I wish things went back to the way t’was before.
That lovely time, why is it no more?

~ Temptation ~

Me gustaría no hablar más, atreverme a apoyar la cabeza en su hombro. Me concentro en esta idea que me exalta, pero de inmediato se ve acosada por un ejército de razones encargadas de salvaguardar la normalidad y oponerse al riesgo; surgen como una flora de anticuerpos que cercan a la tentación, se entabla una lucha intensa y breve que conozco de antiguo. Al final, mi cabeza permanece inmóvil, como era de esperar: caer en la tentación siempre ha sido más difícil que vencerla.

[I'd like to stop talking, have the courage to lay my head on his shoulder. I concentrate on this exciting idea, which is suddenly attacked by an army of reasons in favor of safeguarding normality and opposing any risks; they rise like antibodies that surround temptation, then engage in a short, intense, war I've long been familiar with. In the end, my head keeps still, as it was to be expected: giving in to temptation has always been more difficult than resisting it.]

[cmg]

~ Small pearls ~

(These are lovely writings from a dear friend's website; the translations don't do them justice, and for that I apologize in advance. France, thank you for giving me permission to post them.)

~ Remember? ~
Emotions are sacred, and memories are altars to the emotions.
When one has the chance to share them, it’s a shared prayer.
(original here)

~ The unit of measurement of absence ~
Maybe it is true that beauty tends to perfection;
however, when contemplating beauty in things,
one appreciates what is present,
whereas by contemplating perfection,
one considers what is absent.
Therefore, one should hold perfection as model,
but not as unit of measurement.
Unless one wants to discuss absence.
(original here)

~ SMS stories #2 - Three Brothers ~
The first brother was born poor and died rich.
The second was born rich and died poor.
The third was born and died,
believing that richness and poverty only concern the living.
(original here)

~ SMS stories #4 – Absence ~
You promise and demand Eternal Love.
I look at you, but I can only offer my unavailability.
Tangible absence.
It isn’t Love, but it’s eternal,
and it’s for you, to cherish.
(original here)

~ SMS stories #11 – In transit ~
Moving train, wish you could look back,
apologizing to the grounded feet,
the disillusioned, dazed ears.
But it’s not time to stop.
Will you ever?
(original here)

~ Hypothetical Oblivion, Manifest Estrangement ~

does it ever go away? that feeling of never belonging anywhere, of not having roots long enough to build stable relationships with people? of feeling that, when absent, the world moves on almost at twice the speed, and when the time comes to jump back on to the carousel, well, it's just spinning too fast and you’re left on the ground, watching?

the uncomfortable sensation of lingering ignorance, the inability to follow apparently simple discourses for lack of knowledge of key fact that occurred at a time of absence. sitting quietly, silently trying to connect severed threads (oh red thread, where art thou?), hiding the throat-clutching feeling that wets the ‘lids, the heaviness of the brick sitting on your stomach, behind a bright smile.

it’s like feeling unneeded, unnecessary, disposable, replaceable, easily forgotten, lost in the oblivion of the memory span of a fruit-fly.

it’s like feeling
foreign

In a long-ago time, when long ago peoples
were building cathedrals and raising up steeples,
they crafted stone creatures and set them on perches
to guard and protect and watch over the churches.
So gargoyles were born, and they stood night and day,
keeping evil and terrible spirits away.

And ne'er was a creature so true and so loyal
as the watchful, courageous, and fearless gargoyle.
But the years came and went, and the people did, too,
and in time, they forgot what their ancestors knew.
And whenever they passed by the gargoyles' lairs,
they trembled in fear at the gargoyles' stares.

And as time went along, people's fear turned to spite,
and they sneered and they cursed at the guardians of night:
"demons!" they grumbled -- "grotesque!" and "horrid!"
"those beasts don't belong on the house of the Lord!"
When the gargoyles heard these words that were spoken,
their stony old hearts became crumbled and broken.
Then storms rumbled in, and their eyes filled with rain,
and in stillness they stayed, alone and in pain.

But as it so happened, some angels were near,
and heeding the grief of a gargoyle's tear,
they each fluttered down from the heavens on high
to sit with the gargoyles beneath thundering skies.
Now, angels have ways of making things right,
so they stayed with the gargoyles all through the night,
patting their heads and wiping their tears
and whispering life into gargoyle ears.
And soon all the gargoyles did magical things:

They gurgled and coughed and shook out their wings.
then together the angels and gargoyles took flight,
and they soared through the clouds on a blustery night.
And while over pastures and hills they were winging,
the voices of angels were radiantly singing
music of healing and songs of rebirth
to all of the creatures in all of the earth:

"God bless the rain, and the storm clouds that bring it.
God bless the music, and the voices that sing it.
God bless the ones who sing everything wrong.
God bless the creatures who do not belong.
God bless the hearts and the souls who are grieving
for those who have left, and for those who are leaving.
God bless each perishing body and mind,
God bless all creatures remaining behind.
God bless the dreamers whose dreams have awoken,
God bless the lovers whose hearts have been broken.
God bless each soul that is tortured and taunted,
God bless all creatures alone and unwanted."

And the gargoyles beheld wherever they roamed
that the souls of the lost weren't really alone.
Each one had an angel, each one was protected,
and each one was cherished and loved and respected.

And so it is true with the gargoyles this day,
for all of the angels who love them have stayed.
And together they wait until days become nights,
to embark on their dark and most glorious flights.
So if you see shapes in the night sky, don't fear --
for it simply means angels and gargoyles are near,
easing the earth with their gentle night call:
God bless the gargoyles. God bless us all."

[Dav Pilkey]

~random fragment~

... estamos repentinamente al otro lado ‑mucho más allá‑ del miedo y la vergüenza, y es evidente y claro que en cualquier instante yo tendré que morir, porque la ternura me ha traspasado como cien alfileres de diamante, la ternura me ha pisoteado y arrollado a su paso como el más terrible de los ejércitos en marcha, y me voy deshaciendo, disolviendo, desangrando en palabras...

[esther tusquets]

~ feed the birds ~

In her own special way to the people she calls,
"Come, buy my bags full of crumbs.
Come feed the little birds, show them you care
And you'll be glad if you do.
Their young ones are hungry,
Their nests are so bare;
All it takes is tuppence from you."
Feed the birds, tuppence a bag,
Tuppence, tuppence, tuppence a bag.
"Feed the birds," that's what she cries,
While overhead, her birds fill the skies.

amen

Sanctus Espiritus
redeem us from our solemn hour
Sanctus Espiritus
insanity is all around us
Sanctus Espiritus
is this what we deserve
can we break free
from chains of never-ending agony?

[w.t.]

it's like being...

... disposable...

Roses

Ti regalerò una rosa
Una rosa rossa per dipingere ogni cosa
Una rosa per ogni tua lacrima da consolare
E una rosa per poterti amare

Ti regalerò una rosa

Una rosa bianca come fossi la mia sposa
Una rosa bianca che ti serva per dimenticare
Ogni piccolo dolore

[s.c.]

just wondering

If I asked you, straightforwardly: "DO YOU BELIEVE IN SIGNS?"
What would you say?

I'd tell you that I didn't. I stubbornly avoided it. I consistently tried not to see. I called it random. I called it coincidences. I called it serendipity.

Now I'm not too sure anymore. Maybe they are there for us to see. Supernatural hint? Or maybe a not-too-intrusive way of telling us "hello? can't you see? it's right in front of you!"

There are signs everywhere...
[f.r.i.]

Open your eyes...

Find me...

i see my memories in black and white
they are neglected by space and time
i stored all my days in boxes
i left my wishes so far behind
i find my only salvation
in playin' hide and seek in this labyrinth
and my sense of connection
is lost like the sound of my steps

[elisa]

Paths

"There are as many paths to love as there are people to love.
Barriers to understanding melt when you receive someone in this light."

I’d love to be one of those colorful early summer days
When everybody is happy that you came
Everybody smiles back at you as soon as your eyes cross their eyes

But something has to happen first
I know winter has to come before it blossoms

[elisa]

Home, bittersweet home...

Flying home has its good and bad parts. It reminds me of how much I used to love airports, the only place (I always thought) where people of all nationalities come in contact without conflict, without the need to eliminate each other. If only the outside world could be as civilized as the airport terminals... It reminded me of how nice it is to walk to the windows at the very back of the aircraft, and enjoy the sight of approaching land, after flying over Greenland and that patch of Atlantic Ocean that separates it from the British Isles. Today, passing over Wales, I could see the sea below, flat and apparently still, gently rippled by the wind even if it seem carved in bluish stone. There were tiny white stripes on it, where small boats were passing. and again white lines at the coast, where the waves crash on the sand. A bit more inland, the sun reflected on the lakes and rivers, transforming them into a gently shimmering silver web of lines and puddles decorating the green surface. And what about the sight of the clouds below, looking a vast display of chunks of whip cream? (unfortunately I did not have my camera, and regretted it). It was a bit past 9 pm local time when we approached the airport in Italy (MIL) and the sunset was leaving its last strands of orange/pinkish sky, drawing gorgeous colorful borders on the few clouds.

But being at home also carries a bittersweet taste. Don't get me wrong, I love to see my family, but the poetry of the trip is best left for the flight and the magical sights it unveils. Every time I come home, I can't help but feel out of place. I spend 10 months out of 12 living somewhere else, and I think (fear) that after a while I started becoming someone else as well, at least as far as part of my "italianness" is concerned. I can't quite put my finger on the reason, but as a special person once told me, every time I come here I feel like a foreigner in my own country.

I'll just make the best of it for the next two months. I'll have the chance to see friends I haven't seen in a while, meet friends coming from overseas, visit relatives, bike through town (yes, I will take pics, I promised I would!), and eat lots of mommy-food. It will be good, I know it will. But all it's positiveness will not erase that tingling feeling of not belonging anymore.

Of not belonging anywhere.

Κύριε ἐλέησον

C'est pas que j'ai le cœur à rire
Je l'aurais plutôt à mourir
De les voir si joyeux
De les voir si heureux
Moi qu'aucune homme ne regardera jamais dans les yeux
De les voir convoler
De les voir s'envoler
Au milieu des étoiles sous la voûte des cieux
Toutes les cloches que je sonne
Kyrie Eleison
Hosanna alléluia dies irae dies illa
Toutes ces cloches de malheur
Toutes ces cloches de bonheur
Toutes ces cloches qui n'ont jamais encore sonné pour moi

<...>

<...>

Aveva a che fare con la serenità e con la speranza. Tutto quello che cerchiamo, no? Un posto nel mondo da cui non desiderare di andare via, qualcosa di bello alle porte, ma più bello ancora mentre lo immaginiamo, accucciati in quel luogo che, se siamo fortunati, è un abbraccio. Romantico? Io? Nei giorni dispari. Ma so contare solo fino a uno. I progetti a medio termine mi affaticano, quelli a lungo non li considero. Non mi sono mai aspettato molto da me stesso, non avevo la pazienza per farlo. E' venuto fuori che ho già fatto più di quanto mi sarei mai potuto attendere se mi fossi messo lì, alla stazione delle illusioni, ad aspettare il treno che passa una volta sola. Credo ai passaggi circolari. Prima o poi, anche i treni tornano. Sono trenini giocattolo, la rotaia va in tondo. Siamo seri, stiamo giocando.

[Gabriele Romagnoli]

(It had to do with tranquility and hope. That’s all we look for, no? A place in the world from where we never want to leave, something beautiful at your door, that looks even better while we imagine it, nestled in that place which, if we’re lucky, is a warm hug. Romantic? Me? Only on odd days. But I can only count to one. Mid-term projects wear me out; I don’t even consider long-term ones. I never expected much from myself, I wasn’t patient enough. It turned out I already did more than I could expect for myself even if I had sat there, at delusion station, waiting for the once-in-a-lifetime train. I believe in circular motion. Sooner or later, even trains come by again. They're toy trains; the track's a circle. Let’s be serious, we’re playing.)

Forgive ~ part III

it did backfire. not quite unexpectedly, but i guess one (i?) never stops hoping. i tried, at least i can say that. i feel abysmally stupid for even trying now, what did i think i'd accomplish? and it hurts, it's like being pushed under water and not given the chance to stock up on oxygen. being stabbed. strangled, rather. no other way to put it, unfortunately. it took a while to get to this point, to be able to forgive and try to give some relief to who had asked for forgiveness. i was so stupid to really, honestly, deeply think it was the right thing to do, that it was an act of civility to offer forgiveness, to offer a hand, that it was morally right. and what did i get? venom, recrimination, accusations, anger, jealousy, hatred.

then what's the point? now all this has accomplished is that it made me regret doing what i thought was right. made me regret trying. made me regret being what i am. and what is the point in trying to do well by people, in trying to be a decent human being, if all it brings is pain?

will i ever stop being so naive?

hfd

I don't.
I just envy them.

free

2D freedom
only goes
as far
as
the border
of the
page

wrong turn?

where did i go wrong?
which turn did i miss?
which gut feeling didn't i pursue?
which open window did i ignore?

why does it feel like i'm always too little too late?
why does it feel like i'm in the right place, but at the wrong time?

why does it seem like people trying to comfort end up saying the same (painful) things over and over?

it's like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife

give me a word to keep me warm at night...

Forgive ~ part II

I have offered forgiveness, and even though it feels like a brick has been lifted off my stomach (I profoundly despise grudges), I sincerely hope it doesn't backfire.

I just wish it'll offer relief, closure, hope, insight, to all the people involved.

Enough about me ~ let's talk about you for a minute

If I could sit with you, if I could talk to you, if I could bring myself to look at you in the eyes without feeling the throbbing of the knife still comfortably lodged in my chest, I really don't know where I'd start from. There are just too many questions, too many unanswered uncertainties, and I know I'd open my mouth, attempt to speak, and the words would die in my mouth, sucked back down the throat by the grabbing, blood-soaked claws of pain swallowed for way too long.

I'd ask you why.
I'd ask you if caring about me really has to be so damn hard.
I'd ask you if your fear is so overwhelming that it can wipe away any attachment to me.
I'd ask you why you were never there to dry my tears.
I'd ask you if you ever even saw my tears.
Or heard my cries.

I'd tell you that, in spite of the pain, constant and piercing, I am unable to sever the invisible rope that ties me to you.
I'd tell you that there's not a single day in which I don't think of you, pray for your safety, or your happiness.
I'd tell you that there's not a single day in which I don't imagine your smile, hear the crisp, deep, familiar sound of your voice, see the shape of your hands.

When're you gonna make up your mind?
When're you gonna love you as much as I do?
When're you gonna make up your mind?
'Cause things are gonna change so fast

I'd ask you if you ever think about me.
I'd ask you if I ever cross your mind at night, before you fall asleep.
I'd ask you if I ever cross your mind in the morning, when you wake up.
I'd ask you if you'll ever share your secrets with me, let me in, instead of locking me out.
I'd ask you if you ever miss me.

I'd tell you that so many songs speak to me about you.
I'd tell you that many times I wanted to call you, just to hear your voice.
I'd tell you about my fears, and dreams, and random thoughts that never find their space on a page.
I'd tell you that your indifference tears me into pieces.
Every day a bit more.

And I wonder if it even makes a difference to try.
I wonder if it even makes a difference to cry.

~ il tempo e' tiranno ~

what's the use

if you are

always

too late?

?

Bonne chance...

Close your eyes and roll a dice
Under the board there's a compromise
If after all we only live twice
Which life’s the run road to paradise?

Don't say a word, here comes the break of the day
In white clouds of sand raised by the wind of the end of May

Close your eyes and make a bet
Face to the glare of the sunset
This is about as far as we get
You haven't seen me disguised yet

Don't say a word, here comes the break of the day
In white clouds of sand raised by the wind of the end of May

Close your eyes and make a wish
Under the stone there's a stonefish
Hold your breath then roll the dice
It might be the run road to paradise

Don't say a word, here comes the break of the day
In white clouds of sand raised by the wind of the end... of May

(K.A.)

Limits

Ever experienced one of those days when you think "ok, this is it"? When you think you have reached your limit? When the glass is full and it's about to tip over? When you get to the closed door at the end of the hallway? When you reach the bottom of the hole?

And then you stop.
Breathe.
Once. Twice.
Realize that, in fact, all you need to do is dig deeper.
Open the closed door.
Pour some liquid out of the glass.
Move your limit a bit further down the path.

Keep going.

And enjoy the pleasure of discovering that, after all, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for.

Dearest Santa...

... i know it's a bit on the early side, but i decided what i'd like to receive for christmas this year:


possibly implanted in my brain.
thank you.

Dreaming

The dream is this: that we’ll finally be happy when we reach our goals.
Then we get there.
And if we’re human, we immediately start dreaming of something else.
Because if this is the dream, we’d like to wake up.
Now, please.

We convince ourselves that it’s better if we never dream at all, but the strongest of us, the most determined of us, we hold on to the dream.
Or we find ourselves faced with a fresh dream we never considered.
We awake finding ourselves, against all odds, feeling hopeful.

And if we’re lucky we realize, in the face of everything, in the face of life, that the true dream is being able to dream at all.

(G.A.)

Enough said

I'm in love...

... but which one to pick????


(Koenigsegg CCX)

(Lamborghini Murcielago LP640 Roadster)

Se è vero che ad ogni rinuncia
corrisponde una contropartita
considerevole,
privarsi dell’anima
comporterebbe
una lauta ricompensa...

(CC)

Forgive?

Easter is over - time for introspection, time for penance, and time of rebirth. When the death (and resurrection) of a man washed away the sins of millions, at the story has it.

A man, in Italy, decided to walk 430 miles, pushing a handmade cart onto which he glued images of saints and sinners, the Virgin and John Lennon; he's walking all the way to Rome to ask for forgiveness. Not the Pope's, mind you: he hopes to win back his woman, who abandoned him after he raised his hands on her in anger. He acknowledged his mistake, and thought that saying "I'm sorry" to his now ex-girlfriend wouldn't be enough, given the enormity of his act. His humanity died the moment he raised his hands on her, and a second time when she left. Now he hopes in forgiveness, and rebirth.

I wonder if I'm just touched by this guy's determination, or if there comes a moment in life when you have to forgive, to be able to let go. It is not easy, for at times it is the grudge itself that enables you to remember the pain, and therefore fuels itself by not allowing you to forget. Or forgive whomever inflicted pain.

I know I can't forget. Maybe with time the memory will be diluted and scarves and green led lights will regain their status of "random objects". With time, it will feel more like a bad dream rather than a real nightmare.

But forgive? Can I do that?
Am I strong enough to forgive?
And let go?

Is my forgiveness somebody else's rebirth?

Now I lay me down to sleep...

drain my water,
so that i cannot shed any tears

exhaust my oxygen,
so that my flame stops burning

empty my veins,
so that my soul won't bleed

stop my brain,
so that no thoughts can haunt me

petrify my heart,
so that i cannot feel anymore

take me out of this misery
soon
whoever you are
i pray you

please

2 a.m.

... and I realize
big brown eyes can hypnotize...

(works both ways?)

Deal

He gives...

He takes...

...- - -...

well i can't breathe
and i wish that you couldn't take your eyes off me
but it's never easy as it seems, is it?
please, softly before i scream
breathe, breathe, breathe

(t.p.)

Angel in the Fall

It is sunrise as she wakes without wings
light touches her face
but not like when she was touched by grace.

Today she has asked to deal her own hand
for the fading kiss of a simple man.
What she's left behind cannot be replaced
but as it arrives it will be embraced
this thing every man has always chased.

It is daylight and too bright to see,
but it is not with her eyes that she feels.
What she puts her lips upon is so real
that it not even heaven can steal.

The charms of a man - the precious creation
his whimsical ways and endless aspiration.
When fatherly love has given its fill
she inhales her breath for a bond more so still.

And though it will die as each man does
and though it will bite as each dog does
it is heaven's purest dove:
the kiss of two which entails love.

There is no reason or rhyme at all
in every season, she's an angel in the Fall.

No one guided me to myself.
I am the guide.
Between desert and sea, I am my own guide to myself...
Who am I?
This is a question that others ask, but has no answer.
I am my language, I am an ode, two odes, ten.
This is my language.
I am my language. I am words' writ: Be! Be my body!
And I become an embodiment of their timbre.
I am what I have spoken to the words:
Be the place where
my body joins the eternity of the desert.
Be, so that I may become my words.

(Mahmoud Darwish)

A ray of sun

Sometimes I believe that there truly is a grand scheme of things out there, that I can't see, but that I know is there. Sometimes things happen when you least expect it, and a ray of sun comes into your life, completely unexpected.
Sometimes you meet people, or one person in particular, who can warm you up (your hands, your soul, your heart) just with a smile, just by looking at you, just by sending an email or a message you find in the morning when you wake up. Just knowing that you see this person quite often makes your heartbeat go up and brings a smile, so naturally...
Someone who reminds you how it feels to have butterflies in your stomach, that tingling feeling you get when you get off the ice and your hands are frozen, and it takes twice as long to untie your skates.
Someone I can go on and talk to for hours and hours, someone I can walk around with aimlessly, who turns a simple day into a dream, with the simplest gestures and words so often overlooked by most. Someone whom I can talk to for hours on end, and still feel there's so much more to say.
The best things in life truly come when you least expect it, you find them where you least expect to, and even if you know that it's a free fall without a safety net anywhere in sight, it still feels like flying...

Something to think about

"Some people have a problem with trusting themselves about what they really want in life, or what they think they want. Even when a guy has the right girl in front of him, he finds a way to screw it up, just because of his own trust issues and insecurities. Then when he has the completely wrong girl, someone who's just horrendous and a monster, he finds the littlest reason to keep her around instead of the right one."

Now why is that? Why is it that men, most likely coming from previous relationship, have a tendency to group women and assume that every woman they meet falls into a previously conceived category? "Oh, women are all the same." Men, don't be too sure about that. Just as much as it is not true that men are all the same. Not all men are liars, unreliable, cheaters, not raging machines. Nor all women are drama queens, money-sucking leeches, crazy victims of their hormones.

There's tons of women out there who are pretty, sweet, nice, reliable, smart, independent, trustworthy, generous, patient, intelligent, hard-working, supportive, and the list could go on and on.

Now my question is: WHY IS IT THAT THEY ARE STILL SINGLE??? If only men (and women too, that goes without saying, but this is about men) would stop "expecting" the woman they're with to follow a certain behavioral path, and would start seeing beyond their own emotional baggage, they would be surprised to see that the woman they've been looking for all along is right in front of their nose.

I'm tired of seeing women (some of whom are dear friends of mine) to be ignored or treated like they mean nothing by men who are so convinced they will be like "all the others" that they don't see the beauty of what they have in front of them. I'm sick and tired of it.

Unfortunately, part of the problem is that men are given a large number of mixed signals. How many women take advantage of language to trick and deceive? How many women have used expressions such as "Oh, trust me, I'd never do that to you", or "I would never lie to you", and then turn around and do EXACTLY what they promised not to do? Then what does it leave to the rest of us?

A long list of words WE believe in, but that men don't want to hear anymore.

Canada

Looking better every day...

Secrets

There's a website that I absolutely adore - it's called PostSecret (you can find the link on the right). Every Sunday, new "secrets" are posted that people mail in on a homemade postcard. People send in their most private secrets under complete anonimity, and it happens quite often that I somehow can relate to what they say. We all think that we are so different from one another, that our life experiences are so unique... But (for some at least) it's not like that. For instance, I could have written many of those secrets, because they are things that I have thought/felt/experienced at some point or another in my life.
This postcard/secret was posted this week, and I have been thinking about this same topic for a few days now...
Our life experiences may not be so different from one another, but they sure do have a lot of impact on us, and they affect our everyday life and whatever we do afterwards. I've had this conversation over and over with one of my best friends (coucou chouchou!) and I have learnt to recognize it in other people as well. The easiest example: we've been hurt badly in a relationship, so now we're wary of what we get ourselves into. And it ends up that when you meet someone you really care about, you inevitably need to fight with the ghosts of relationships past.

Unless you meet someone who can see through that, and not care about the past.
What matters is not what brought us to this point, to our paths crossing.
What matters is that, from here on now, we walk side by side.

Scorpion or frog?

Sometimes I so wish I could be a scorpion...

To wait or not to wait

A long time ago I read somewhere that the wait for something pleasant is in itself half the pleasure. Most likely, it was written by someone who, in the end, got what he/she was waiting for. Because when you are waiting, the wait can be truly endless. The minutes become hours, the hours become days, and the days are eternally long. You end up looking at your watch frantically, trying to make it move ahead with the mystical powers of your brain. You're never sure if your phone is working or not - why isn't the damn thing ringing??? - and in the end you fall into the "don't-watch-the-boiling-water" cliche'.
It is painful, and it can become extremely frustrating. But...
But isn't the wait in itself that makes you feel alive? That makes you understand how much you care? That tells you, deep down in your guts, that what you are waiting for is actually worth the wait?
If only the darn water would start boiling...

Midnight musings

Sometimes it's hard to find the right words. It doesn't matter whether it's your native language or not, the difficulty is the same. The right words are always hard to find. Especially when you deal with people you care so much about. Not to talk about timing... To make things worse, not only you have to find the right words, but you have to say them at the right time, so that you manage not to screw everything up in a split second.

How do you tell someone that you care about them? How do you tell someone how important they are for you? How do you tell someone you are falling in love with them, without them running away or dropping you on the spot like a bad habit? Or should you just steer clear of the "feeling" zone and make it simpler? But making it simpler somehow doesn't work either, because you end up saying less than what you actually think.

Catch 22? I don't think so. I may have questions about how to actually deal with this situation, but I do know that communication is pivotal. I believe that truth brings you farther than lies; even if it's just so that you have been true to yourself. If I care about someone, the minimum I can do for them is tell the truth. Now, whether they accept it or not, it's another story. But why should I lie? Why should I front? Or play games? Here is the plain and simple truth: bla bla bla. I am true to myself, I am true to the person I am talking to, and everything is out there in the open. No second guessing, no hidden agendas, no games, no babble.

Easy huh? Hell no. People who know me, know that I can be honest to the point of being abrasive: I don't hide things, whether I like something/someone or not, I say it. Period. Nor I am able to lie about my own feelings: I've been told over and over that I'm the classic description of an open book. I don't particularly like it, but I live with it.

It's not easy, and it's scary. It is disconcerting to know that you are baring your soul to someone, especially if you are dealing with feelings. You are showing your neck to a potential wolf who can bite down and cut your throat in no time. Showing your chest with a bull's eye on it, waiting for the shot to hit a perfect 10.
But you still do it. Because you hope that the other person sees through your soul and hears your words; because you hope that they will appreciate your honesty; because you hope that they will understand.

Because you hope that they will love you as well.

How do you measure a year?

525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life?
How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in love.
Seasons of love.

525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan.
525,600 minutes - how can you measure the life of a woman or man?

In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died

It's time now to sing out,
tho the story never ends let's celebrate remember a year in the life of friends.
Remember the love!
Remember the love! Remember the love!
Measure in love.
Seasons of love! Seasons of love!

(Rent)

Remember when it rained?

Wash away the thoughts inside
That keep my mind away from you.
No more love and no more pride
And thoughts are all I have to do.

Remember when it rained.
Felt the ground and looked up high
And called your name.
Remember when it rained.
In the darkness I remain.

Tears of hope run down my skin.
Tears for you that will not dry.
They magnify the one within
And let the outside slowly die.

Remember when it rained.
I felt the ground and looked up high
And called your name.
Remember when it rained.
In the water I remain
Running down
Running down
Running down

(Josh Groban)

Am I wasting my time? Am I waiting for something that will never happen?
For something that exists only in my dreams?
Will I ever learn never to play with fire? Never to let anybody so close to my soul?

It feels like my brain is tuned 24/7 to the same radio station.

It's like I can't breathe, sometimes. Like I'm drowning and I look up for a hand to hold, to rescue me from this situation, one way or the other. But it's easy to look the other way.
And I'm left to figure this out on my own, and brace myself to pick up all the little pieces my soul may end up being shattered into...

Will I ever learn?

But it's not a matter of learning, unfortunately. It's a matter of being true to myself, to how I am.
This is what I am. This is how I am.
And I like to be able to listen to my heart.

Daydreaming...

I just want someone nice, someone I can trust and rely on.
Someone who won't lie to me.
Someone who'll be honest with me and won't assume I'm stupid.
Someone for whom talking to me is the best part of the day.
Someone talking to whom is the best part of my day.
Someone who can understand that being in a loving, respectful, sincere relationship can actually set you free, giving you immense freedom rather than tying you down and limiting your options.
Someone who can see through my quirks and perks and like me as I am, even if I am weird.
Someone who understands me even when I'm tired and my English isn't perfect.
Someone who can see through my eyes and understand what I am unable to put into words. Someone who wants to be loved as he's never been loved before.
Someone who is willing to receive support as much as he's willing to give support.
Someone whose hand I'll proudly hold, anytime, on any given day.
Someone by whose side I'll proudly stand, anytime, on any given day.
Someone in whose arms I want to fall asleep night after night, and next to whom I want to wake up day after day.
Someone to whom I can give all of this immense love, affection, support, respect, appreciation, understanding that I feel inside of me.
Is there someone out there who wants it?
And who can handle it?

Want to feel like Quasimodo?

Up there on the roofs of Paris, looking down on the sleeping city, hidden behid the Gargoyles of Notre Dame, wishing your life were different?

There you go.

Truth or dare

How is it possible to detect if someone is lying to you? And most importantly, why do people even need to lie to one another? I am a big supporter of the benefit of the doubt: I tend to give people face value, so when they say something, I assume that they are being honest. I know, I can be extremely naive at times, but hey, I'd rather assume that people are being honest than always having to second guess what I am told. But probably that is not the best way to go. And then, when you start suspecting that people are in fact lying to you, how do you go about finding the truth? One way is certainly the most abrupt one: ask. But it sounds quite stupid when you ask someone "Say, are you lying to me?". If they say "No, of course not", what makes you believe that THAT is not another lie? And of course, if someone IS lying to you, they ain't going to tell you to your face...
So you resort to tricks. You trick people into telling the truth, or you find a way to go around the obstacle. And there's tons of ways to do that...
It's just insane, and completely counterproductive, especially when people tell you that "communication is the basis of everything". Does that mean that "everything" is based on crappy lies?

Um... maybe not...

Happy Valentine's Day!

(there's nothing better than an unexpected red rose for Valentine's Day)

Love sucks - part II

Love sucks - part I

Welcome to Torino!

Oceano

Piove sull'oceano
Piove sull'oceano
Piove sulla mia identita'
Lampi sull'oceano
Lampi sull'oceano
Squarci di luminosita'
Forse qua in America
I venti del Pacifico
Scoprono le sue immensita'
Le mie mani stringono
Sogni lontanissimi
E il mio pensiero corre da te
Temo, tremo, sento
Profondi e oscuri abissi
E' per l'amore che ti do
E' per l'amore che non sai
Che mi fai naufragare
E' per l'amore che non ho
E' per l'amore che vorrei
E' per questo dolore
E' questo amore
Che ho per te
Che mi fa superare
Queste vere tempeste
Onde sull'oceano
Onde sull'oceano
Che dolcemente si plachera'
Le mie mani stringono
Sogni lontanissimi
E il tuo respiro soffia su me
Temo, tremo, sento
Vento in fondo al cuore
E' per l'amore che ho per te
Che mi fa superare
Mille tempeste
E' per l'amore che ti do
E' per l'amore che vorrei
Da questo mare
E' per la vita che non c'e'
Che mi fai naufragare
In fondo al cuore
Tutto questo ti avra'
E a te sembrera' tutto normale

(Josh Groban, "Oceano")