Lucca (Italy), night
I love to be in my bed writing here. I just find it cozy. A bit of music, soft light, my pc and my thoughts. Extremely relaxing.
I was thinking about one scene of the movie I saw the other day "Tutta la vita davanti" and I started to think about feet and socks. Everyone who knows me also knows that I have a light obsession for feet. I think that my feet are one of the most beautiful part of my body and I pay a lot of attention to feet and socks and shoes and the way people walk and put their feet when they walk. It is something that I do automatically. My brain record the information, and I formulate thoughts about it even before to realize what I am looking at.
So, in one of the scene of the movie, the main character, Marta, have sex in the car with Elio Germano. And till here, nothing weird or wrong. The thing is that in that scene, you see a foot of Elio Germano up in the air (well, still in the car of course). Nothing weird again. Except for the sock he was wearing in that scene. It was gray/blue. A normal sock color for men I guess. But he was moving the foot in such a funny way, the toes especially from what I could see from the sock, that I ended up not only paying a lot of attention to it, but I also keeping thinking about it. The scene with the sock was probably not more that 5 seconds.
I know, I pay a lot of attention to not significant details, which end up becoming significant in my life since I focus so much on them...
So, I have this thing with men and socks....My first boyfriend had a passion for sporty cotton socks, no matter with which kind of shoes. It was something that I just couldn't look at it. You really have to love someone to be with him when he wears sporty cotton socks with elegant shoes. Then of course when I moved to Germany, it was even a more dramatic experience. They just like to wear socks with sandals. They don't care about it. In three years and half, I never got used to it and I always looked away. In Holland it was better in terms of men and socks....but then in USA....Oh, the USA......In Italy we use to recognize Americans from the shoes they wear and their socks. If you see someone with white sporty shoes (and not sneakers, but something more like running shoes), shorts and long socks (preferably white again), then you could bet they are 99% of the time from Florida. And then often outside Italy you see men wearing short socks and short pants, so that when they sit, you can see a piece of their leg....which is not a sexy thing at all, especially if the socks are white.
This is one of the thing that I love of the Italian style. Men socks. Long, colored (no pale colors, not white). That is how it should be. If your pant goes up, you have a nice dark sock. If you wear elegant shoes, then the socks perfectly fit with that.
I remember a conversation with a good friend of mine, German. She thought that an half dressed man in boxer and long socks was not looking as sexy as a man with boxer and short socks. I couldn't disagree more on that. Beside the the top for me would be a man with well made feet and no socks, but if I have to go for the socks, VIVA the long socks!
We both anyway agree that the "speedo" underwear for a man is extremely not-sexy....that kind of underwear is still popular for men here in Italy. Unfortunately.....
Monday, March 31, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Tutta la vita davanti
Lucca (Italy), night
E' troppo tardi per scrivere in inglese, il mio cervello lavora gia' male in italiano, figuriamoci in inglese adesso....
Stasera sono andata a correre con Vasco, per muovermi, per distrarmi e per riossigenare la mente dopo una giornata passata al computer a lavorare. Poi sono andata al cinema (chiaro prima ho fatto una doccia ed ho cenato). E' arrivato a Lucca il film di Virzi' e siccome Virzi' come regista mi piace ed in piu' nel film recita Germano, ero estremamente motivata ad andarlo a vedere.
Risultato. Il film e' una fotografia della realta', uno spaccato della societa' italiana di questi ultimi anni cosi' vera e cosi' vicina a me da far venire i brividi. Non posso dire che non mi sia piaciuto, perche' mi e' piaciuto. Ma da' una visione cosi' pessimistica, cosi' senza via di scampo che una volta usciti dal cinema resta da pensare "ma chi me lo fa fare di andare avanti visto che e' proprio cosi' come nel film la realta'?". E' chiaro che non e' cosi' per tutti. Ma lo e' per me e lo e' stato.
Il film comincia con la protagonista, Marta che si laurea. Una commissione addormentata, che anche se lei avesse raccontato una favola sarebbe stato lo stesso. Una burocrazia nell'ambiente universitario che ti scoraggia subito anche dal provare una qualsiasi cosa. Un ragazzo con un contratto di ricerca da 350 euro al mese e costretto a fare altri lavori part-time per arrivare anche solo a pagare un affitto. Un darsi da fare a mandare il curriculum a destra e manca per cercare di trovare un qualche lavoro che si addica a cio' che hai studiato, tante porte sbattute in faccia, tanti sorrisi e tanti le faremo sapere. La gente che ti guarda dall'alto in basso perche' una laurea in questo paese non conta niente e le possibilita' si danno solo a chi ha le conoscenze. Il momento in cui trovi un qualsiasi lavoro che ti fa sentire fortunata, non importa che lavoro sia, anche il piu' umiliante, solo perche' almeno qualcuno invece di rifiutarti ti ha dato una possibilita'. Ed alla fine ti perdi e quando te ne accorgi a volte e' stato troppo tardi. La mia fortuna e' stata andarmene quando ho avuto l'occasione, prima di appassirmi qui e perdere ogni minima stima di me stessa a forza di prendere portate in faccia e no come risposte.
E' difficile capire forse per qualcuno. Ma quando non sai come arrivare a fine mese, quando vedi che i soldi scarseggiano, vai anche avanti a mesi a mangiare riso e carote e quanto di piu' economico riesci a trovare al supermercato. E non solo questo. Io ad un call center ci ho lavorato. Io, la mia mamma e la mia sorella. Ne avevamo bisogno e quello era cio' che siamo riuscite a trovare. Almeno lavoravamo insieme e ci tenevamo compagnia. Ma la gente se lavori in un call center ti guarda dall'alto in basso. Almeno guardavano me. Ma avevo cominciato un dottorato e non mi pagavano ed io invece dovevo pagare le tasse. E mi ricordo quelle ore al telefono come un incubo. Quelle ore indimenticabili, chiuse in una stanza. A telefonare a delle persone che non erano interessate, che non volevano stare a sentire, a cui dovevi raccontare delle storie per fissare un appuntamento, perche' il tuo riuscire nel lavoro dipendava da quello. E tutta quella povera gente a cui telefonavamo senza saperlo. C'erano quelli malati a letto, le persone anziane, i depressi. E tu, solo perche' telefonavi, diventavi un telefono amico. E si lo so, non potevamo perdere tempo con questa gente, perche' non avrebbero fissato un appuntamento e ci facevano perdere tempo. Ma io alla fine mi immedesimavo troppo nelle loro situazioni, soffrivo con loro, non avevo il distacco necessario. Ed alla fine arrivavo a fine giornata distrutta, come se insieme al mio sentirmi una nullita' vivessi anche le vite ed i problemi di tutte queste persone.
E nella mente per andare avanti si creano meccanismi strani di autoprotezione. Che a volte sono pericolosi, perche' ti portano a giustificare tante cose, a perdere di vista i tuoi sogni, a credere che sognare e' pericoloso. A credere che sia meglio volare basso, che se ti schianti, ti schianti da piu' vicino a terra.
Non so come io, mia sorella e mia madre siamo uscite da questo circolo, da questo lavoro a cui ti attacchi come una cozza perche' e' sempre un lavoro e ne hai bisogno e chissa' quando troverai il prossimo. Ma ne siamo uscite. Ma viviamo ancora tutte e tre vite lavorative insicure. Io e mia sorella per scelta, mia mamma per forza di cose. Ed e' una vita che consuma.
Io inseguo i miei sogni. Ma a volte come stasera, quando vedo un film come "tutta la vita davanti" mi ricordo di come sia stato prima, di cosa ho passato e di tutti i lavori piu' o meno piacevoli che ho fatto. E mi spavento. Perche' so che adesso non avrei la forza di ripassare attraversi questi momenti. Perche' io sono una che e' riuscita a realizzare un sogno ed e' difficile tornare indietro dopo. Ti poni nuovi obiettivi, nuovi sogni e pensi che quella fase del call center, dei lavori sfruttata per fare qualcosa che non ti piaceva, quella fase, e' finita. Ma poi appunto capita che vedi un film, capita che pensi al tuo presente e realizzi che quella fase potrebbe tornare. E che questa volta non saresti brava come prima a passarci attraverso, sopravvivere ed uscirne fortificata.
Se c'e' bisogno si fa tutto. Ma se c'e' una cosa che adoro dell'America e' proprio la filosofia di dare una possibilita' alla gente. Qui a volte non si ha scelta. E non importa quanto uno abbia studiato, non importa quanto uno sia bravo o sarebbe bravo nel suo lavoro. Non importa.
E' troppo tardi per scrivere in inglese, il mio cervello lavora gia' male in italiano, figuriamoci in inglese adesso....
Stasera sono andata a correre con Vasco, per muovermi, per distrarmi e per riossigenare la mente dopo una giornata passata al computer a lavorare. Poi sono andata al cinema (chiaro prima ho fatto una doccia ed ho cenato). E' arrivato a Lucca il film di Virzi' e siccome Virzi' come regista mi piace ed in piu' nel film recita Germano, ero estremamente motivata ad andarlo a vedere.
Risultato. Il film e' una fotografia della realta', uno spaccato della societa' italiana di questi ultimi anni cosi' vera e cosi' vicina a me da far venire i brividi. Non posso dire che non mi sia piaciuto, perche' mi e' piaciuto. Ma da' una visione cosi' pessimistica, cosi' senza via di scampo che una volta usciti dal cinema resta da pensare "ma chi me lo fa fare di andare avanti visto che e' proprio cosi' come nel film la realta'?". E' chiaro che non e' cosi' per tutti. Ma lo e' per me e lo e' stato.
Il film comincia con la protagonista, Marta che si laurea. Una commissione addormentata, che anche se lei avesse raccontato una favola sarebbe stato lo stesso. Una burocrazia nell'ambiente universitario che ti scoraggia subito anche dal provare una qualsiasi cosa. Un ragazzo con un contratto di ricerca da 350 euro al mese e costretto a fare altri lavori part-time per arrivare anche solo a pagare un affitto. Un darsi da fare a mandare il curriculum a destra e manca per cercare di trovare un qualche lavoro che si addica a cio' che hai studiato, tante porte sbattute in faccia, tanti sorrisi e tanti le faremo sapere. La gente che ti guarda dall'alto in basso perche' una laurea in questo paese non conta niente e le possibilita' si danno solo a chi ha le conoscenze. Il momento in cui trovi un qualsiasi lavoro che ti fa sentire fortunata, non importa che lavoro sia, anche il piu' umiliante, solo perche' almeno qualcuno invece di rifiutarti ti ha dato una possibilita'. Ed alla fine ti perdi e quando te ne accorgi a volte e' stato troppo tardi. La mia fortuna e' stata andarmene quando ho avuto l'occasione, prima di appassirmi qui e perdere ogni minima stima di me stessa a forza di prendere portate in faccia e no come risposte.
E' difficile capire forse per qualcuno. Ma quando non sai come arrivare a fine mese, quando vedi che i soldi scarseggiano, vai anche avanti a mesi a mangiare riso e carote e quanto di piu' economico riesci a trovare al supermercato. E non solo questo. Io ad un call center ci ho lavorato. Io, la mia mamma e la mia sorella. Ne avevamo bisogno e quello era cio' che siamo riuscite a trovare. Almeno lavoravamo insieme e ci tenevamo compagnia. Ma la gente se lavori in un call center ti guarda dall'alto in basso. Almeno guardavano me. Ma avevo cominciato un dottorato e non mi pagavano ed io invece dovevo pagare le tasse. E mi ricordo quelle ore al telefono come un incubo. Quelle ore indimenticabili, chiuse in una stanza. A telefonare a delle persone che non erano interessate, che non volevano stare a sentire, a cui dovevi raccontare delle storie per fissare un appuntamento, perche' il tuo riuscire nel lavoro dipendava da quello. E tutta quella povera gente a cui telefonavamo senza saperlo. C'erano quelli malati a letto, le persone anziane, i depressi. E tu, solo perche' telefonavi, diventavi un telefono amico. E si lo so, non potevamo perdere tempo con questa gente, perche' non avrebbero fissato un appuntamento e ci facevano perdere tempo. Ma io alla fine mi immedesimavo troppo nelle loro situazioni, soffrivo con loro, non avevo il distacco necessario. Ed alla fine arrivavo a fine giornata distrutta, come se insieme al mio sentirmi una nullita' vivessi anche le vite ed i problemi di tutte queste persone.
E nella mente per andare avanti si creano meccanismi strani di autoprotezione. Che a volte sono pericolosi, perche' ti portano a giustificare tante cose, a perdere di vista i tuoi sogni, a credere che sognare e' pericoloso. A credere che sia meglio volare basso, che se ti schianti, ti schianti da piu' vicino a terra.
Non so come io, mia sorella e mia madre siamo uscite da questo circolo, da questo lavoro a cui ti attacchi come una cozza perche' e' sempre un lavoro e ne hai bisogno e chissa' quando troverai il prossimo. Ma ne siamo uscite. Ma viviamo ancora tutte e tre vite lavorative insicure. Io e mia sorella per scelta, mia mamma per forza di cose. Ed e' una vita che consuma.
Io inseguo i miei sogni. Ma a volte come stasera, quando vedo un film come "tutta la vita davanti" mi ricordo di come sia stato prima, di cosa ho passato e di tutti i lavori piu' o meno piacevoli che ho fatto. E mi spavento. Perche' so che adesso non avrei la forza di ripassare attraversi questi momenti. Perche' io sono una che e' riuscita a realizzare un sogno ed e' difficile tornare indietro dopo. Ti poni nuovi obiettivi, nuovi sogni e pensi che quella fase del call center, dei lavori sfruttata per fare qualcosa che non ti piaceva, quella fase, e' finita. Ma poi appunto capita che vedi un film, capita che pensi al tuo presente e realizzi che quella fase potrebbe tornare. E che questa volta non saresti brava come prima a passarci attraverso, sopravvivere ed uscirne fortificata.
Se c'e' bisogno si fa tutto. Ma se c'e' una cosa che adoro dell'America e' proprio la filosofia di dare una possibilita' alla gente. Qui a volte non si ha scelta. E non importa quanto uno abbia studiato, non importa quanto uno sia bravo o sarebbe bravo nel suo lavoro. Non importa.
Friday, March 28, 2008
My father
Lucca (Italy) morning
I guess after yesterday evening my father is actually out of my life. I guess I will meet him again at my sister's wedding. According to him you can be a good father just giving money. Beside the fact that I am not sure to which money he was referring to and to whom he gave them, but I never thought of a relationship father-daughter as a commercial transition. I guess this says a lot about him......
I guess after yesterday evening my father is actually out of my life. I guess I will meet him again at my sister's wedding. According to him you can be a good father just giving money. Beside the fact that I am not sure to which money he was referring to and to whom he gave them, but I never thought of a relationship father-daughter as a commercial transition. I guess this says a lot about him......
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Toilets
Lucca (Italy), morning
Yesterday I had to go to the Spanish consulate in Genova to hand in a grant application. I obviously took the train, first because I love trains (and to love trains here in Italy we need to be kind of brave) and second because in theory it is the easiest (and more environment-friendly) way to get to places. I fortunately got an earlier train of the one I was supposed to take. Fortunately because the one I planned to take had an hour delay. This blog is not anyway about my train trip, but more about the toilets in the Italian trains. There is something I don't understand about it. I am not tall, but I am also not that small. I guess that is compared with the Italian average height, I am of some cm above it.
I can see why when I was in Holland the toilets where always too high for me and I needed to stand in some weird position to be able to pee without sitting on it (I never sit on public toilets. Bleah!). Dutch people are on the average much much taller than I am and so of course they make toilets for the average sized person and not for someone shorter like me, but in Italy................I am wondering how people shorter than me can pee using the toilets of the Italian trains. Probably they just wait to get to the final destination and once there they run to the first public toilet, where the toilet sits are of a "normal" height. I am not a man, so I cannot just pee standing and if I don't want to sit on the toilet (never!), then I always have to find a way of peeing while touching as less as possible of the bathroom and climb to a position in which I can pee into the toilet and not on my pants or on the floor, all this while the train has the classical shaking movement. I have to admit that this is a challenge. I wonder of how other Italian women deal with this problem. Maybe I should start a survey across the country to see if there is a gradient of toilets' height from North to South and how they are in other countries.....
Yesterday I had to go to the Spanish consulate in Genova to hand in a grant application. I obviously took the train, first because I love trains (and to love trains here in Italy we need to be kind of brave) and second because in theory it is the easiest (and more environment-friendly) way to get to places. I fortunately got an earlier train of the one I was supposed to take. Fortunately because the one I planned to take had an hour delay. This blog is not anyway about my train trip, but more about the toilets in the Italian trains. There is something I don't understand about it. I am not tall, but I am also not that small. I guess that is compared with the Italian average height, I am of some cm above it.
I can see why when I was in Holland the toilets where always too high for me and I needed to stand in some weird position to be able to pee without sitting on it (I never sit on public toilets. Bleah!). Dutch people are on the average much much taller than I am and so of course they make toilets for the average sized person and not for someone shorter like me, but in Italy................I am wondering how people shorter than me can pee using the toilets of the Italian trains. Probably they just wait to get to the final destination and once there they run to the first public toilet, where the toilet sits are of a "normal" height. I am not a man, so I cannot just pee standing and if I don't want to sit on the toilet (never!), then I always have to find a way of peeing while touching as less as possible of the bathroom and climb to a position in which I can pee into the toilet and not on my pants or on the floor, all this while the train has the classical shaking movement. I have to admit that this is a challenge. I wonder of how other Italian women deal with this problem. Maybe I should start a survey across the country to see if there is a gradient of toilets' height from North to South and how they are in other countries.....
Sunday, March 23, 2008
how are you?
Lucca (Italy), night
My nickname should be "The masochist". I went to watch a girl movie "27 dresses". I was looking for a light romantic comedy and this is what I got. Which was fine. What it was not that fine is that in the movie, the main character, Jane, has a sister who ends up engaged with the same person Jane is in love with....And this sister is so much focused on herself and just herself to see anything beyond herself. And this is not because she doesn't care of Jane, but just because she is concentrated on getting what she wants and needs at that moment. Of course, the movie has an happy ending, with Jane getting married to a much cuter guy than the one she thinks to be in love with. The point is that this was not one of this movie after which you get into some deep thinking. But I did. Because even if I want to be strong and fight all the difficulties that cross my road in life, even if I keep thinking that if someone was not sure about me in my last relationship was part of the game and I should move on, the truth is that I am actually a person who hopes that romance really exists in life. Not the kind of romance that needs a lot of fireworks, pink things everywhere and to call each other "pucci pucci, my love or my sweetheart". I am actually allergic to these things. But I am extremely sensitive if someone calls me just to ask me how am I doing, if someone unexpectedly let me know that he is thinking of me, in that right moment and wondering what I am doing. I feel uncomfortable with compliments and big things, but I melt down when the person I love shows some true, simple interest for me and makes me feel important in his life.
This movie was not romantic in the way I mean. But it was in some way similar to what happens to me. A person who is living her life dreaming of something, her sister who actually get to live her dream first and does not have the sensitivity to see how she hurts her sister, some relatives who catch the perfect occasion to say how sad it should be for Jane that the younger sister gets married before her and so on. The dream of my life is not necessarily to get married, but for sure it is not to keep being alone dreaming of something which clearly doesn't seem to come any closer than sometimes ago. But yes, my sister will get married before me and even if I am happy for her for this, in one way or another, without reason, she ends up hurting me right there where now it hurts more. Telling me how inadequate I am for finding someone who I love who would love me back to want to be with me. I already wrote about her complains on my clothing, my life style, the things I like and what I am and I am not, so I am not going to write about it again. But this stupid movie reminded me of that, of my relatives telling me that I live a life which is not real and based only on a work that has nothing to do with the real world (which I guess is the world where most of the people live), of my sister hurting me without seeing it, of me feeling really lonely sometimes.....and I wonder how longer do I have to wait for the happy end?
My nickname should be "The masochist". I went to watch a girl movie "27 dresses". I was looking for a light romantic comedy and this is what I got. Which was fine. What it was not that fine is that in the movie, the main character, Jane, has a sister who ends up engaged with the same person Jane is in love with....And this sister is so much focused on herself and just herself to see anything beyond herself. And this is not because she doesn't care of Jane, but just because she is concentrated on getting what she wants and needs at that moment. Of course, the movie has an happy ending, with Jane getting married to a much cuter guy than the one she thinks to be in love with. The point is that this was not one of this movie after which you get into some deep thinking. But I did. Because even if I want to be strong and fight all the difficulties that cross my road in life, even if I keep thinking that if someone was not sure about me in my last relationship was part of the game and I should move on, the truth is that I am actually a person who hopes that romance really exists in life. Not the kind of romance that needs a lot of fireworks, pink things everywhere and to call each other "pucci pucci, my love or my sweetheart". I am actually allergic to these things. But I am extremely sensitive if someone calls me just to ask me how am I doing, if someone unexpectedly let me know that he is thinking of me, in that right moment and wondering what I am doing. I feel uncomfortable with compliments and big things, but I melt down when the person I love shows some true, simple interest for me and makes me feel important in his life.
This movie was not romantic in the way I mean. But it was in some way similar to what happens to me. A person who is living her life dreaming of something, her sister who actually get to live her dream first and does not have the sensitivity to see how she hurts her sister, some relatives who catch the perfect occasion to say how sad it should be for Jane that the younger sister gets married before her and so on. The dream of my life is not necessarily to get married, but for sure it is not to keep being alone dreaming of something which clearly doesn't seem to come any closer than sometimes ago. But yes, my sister will get married before me and even if I am happy for her for this, in one way or another, without reason, she ends up hurting me right there where now it hurts more. Telling me how inadequate I am for finding someone who I love who would love me back to want to be with me. I already wrote about her complains on my clothing, my life style, the things I like and what I am and I am not, so I am not going to write about it again. But this stupid movie reminded me of that, of my relatives telling me that I live a life which is not real and based only on a work that has nothing to do with the real world (which I guess is the world where most of the people live), of my sister hurting me without seeing it, of me feeling really lonely sometimes.....and I wonder how longer do I have to wait for the happy end?
Friday, March 21, 2008
spring
Lucca (Italy) afternoon
I forgot...it is spring today....happy spring!!!
from the weather I couldn't really guess that spring arrived....
I forgot...it is spring today....happy spring!!!
from the weather I couldn't really guess that spring arrived....
sometimes
Lucca (Italy), afternoon
Sometimes I feel like life is passing by and I am just an observer. I am not into that. Probably my uncle is right when he says that I live outside the world, in my own space and dimension. But sometimes, in days like today when it is raining outside, when the sky is gray, when lots and lots of car are on the roads, when everyone honks at each other, I just feel kind of numb, like if I was not here participating to what happens, like if my life is not here but is also nowhere else...it is a weird feeling. And it is not necessarily sad or anything, just weird....From time to time I feel into something, living the moment, right there, but most of the time I am just watching other people living their lives, as a spectator watching a movie....
It has not always been like this, but it is like this in these last years...and I am not crazy about it....
Sometimes I feel like life is passing by and I am just an observer. I am not into that. Probably my uncle is right when he says that I live outside the world, in my own space and dimension. But sometimes, in days like today when it is raining outside, when the sky is gray, when lots and lots of car are on the roads, when everyone honks at each other, I just feel kind of numb, like if I was not here participating to what happens, like if my life is not here but is also nowhere else...it is a weird feeling. And it is not necessarily sad or anything, just weird....From time to time I feel into something, living the moment, right there, but most of the time I am just watching other people living their lives, as a spectator watching a movie....
It has not always been like this, but it is like this in these last years...and I am not crazy about it....
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Suv
Lucca (Italy), morning
There is a rising worry here. It is not about the coming political election (which are of course reason enough to be really really worry, especially if Berlusconi will become premier again), but about the explosion of a lost or respect of public spaces, things, environments.
Italy and fashion always go hand by hand in everyone's mind. Sometimes fashion is dictating too much in Italy, but I agree that it is always better than ugliness and lack of respect for other people's eyes. Anyway. I don't agree with one of the latest fashion must: having a suv.
A suv, at least this is the way they are called here, are these big cars, which resemble more a track than a car to me. I am more a Panda or a Twingo person. One of this person for which a car is a tool to move for larger distances that I cannot quickly cover on foot or by bike. Cars like a Panda or a Twingo are small, city friendly, road friendly, traffic friendly, people friendly. I always heard that you can associate a dog with its honer. I think the same about cars.
Look at who drives a suv. A suv is for someone who needs to scream to the entire world "hey look at me, I am here", someone who wants to move forward because bigger, a bully. You don't buy a suv because you need a big car, because you have a big family, because you always bring your bike with you, your dogs or your surf board. For those reasons you buy a station wagon, not a suv. And you don't buy a suv because of aesthetic. You would buy a classic Porche or a Jaguar for that reason, an elegant car. Neither you get a suv because you need a strong car, because in those cases, you would buy a jeep.
Basically a suv is an arrogant way to impose yourself to the rest of the world, to pollute more (because anyway I am not going to see the effects of my pollution now and come on, it is just a car, how much damage it can do...), to scare any other driver who like me loves small friendly cars.
Unfortunately I observed that a Suv driver has also other disrespectful behaviors toward the rest of the world. They are the one who always look for fastest and easiest solution to get things done in a faster way, no matter at which cost for the others. They are the ones who trow things out of the windows of their big suv, that when they have to stand in line need to tell to anyone how busy they are to wait in a line like anyone else, that they talk on their cellphone laud (normally they have more than one) to let anyone know how important they are for the rest of the world to keep running. These exact bully behavior are lately increasing at fast rate here in Italy. People who make their own way trough the world not by intelligence or talent, but by arrogance.
I know that we should just look and pass by, but please, if you read here, do me a favor. If you see an arrogant person driving a suv (it has also to be arrogant, you cannot just condemn someone because he/she drive a suv, even if of course a suv is a disrespectful car itself), step with energy on one of his/her feet. Of course, after you should say with a big smile "oh, I am sorry, I didn't see you".
Thanks.
There is a rising worry here. It is not about the coming political election (which are of course reason enough to be really really worry, especially if Berlusconi will become premier again), but about the explosion of a lost or respect of public spaces, things, environments.
Italy and fashion always go hand by hand in everyone's mind. Sometimes fashion is dictating too much in Italy, but I agree that it is always better than ugliness and lack of respect for other people's eyes. Anyway. I don't agree with one of the latest fashion must: having a suv.
A suv, at least this is the way they are called here, are these big cars, which resemble more a track than a car to me. I am more a Panda or a Twingo person. One of this person for which a car is a tool to move for larger distances that I cannot quickly cover on foot or by bike. Cars like a Panda or a Twingo are small, city friendly, road friendly, traffic friendly, people friendly. I always heard that you can associate a dog with its honer. I think the same about cars.
Look at who drives a suv. A suv is for someone who needs to scream to the entire world "hey look at me, I am here", someone who wants to move forward because bigger, a bully. You don't buy a suv because you need a big car, because you have a big family, because you always bring your bike with you, your dogs or your surf board. For those reasons you buy a station wagon, not a suv. And you don't buy a suv because of aesthetic. You would buy a classic Porche or a Jaguar for that reason, an elegant car. Neither you get a suv because you need a strong car, because in those cases, you would buy a jeep.
Basically a suv is an arrogant way to impose yourself to the rest of the world, to pollute more (because anyway I am not going to see the effects of my pollution now and come on, it is just a car, how much damage it can do...), to scare any other driver who like me loves small friendly cars.
Unfortunately I observed that a Suv driver has also other disrespectful behaviors toward the rest of the world. They are the one who always look for fastest and easiest solution to get things done in a faster way, no matter at which cost for the others. They are the ones who trow things out of the windows of their big suv, that when they have to stand in line need to tell to anyone how busy they are to wait in a line like anyone else, that they talk on their cellphone laud (normally they have more than one) to let anyone know how important they are for the rest of the world to keep running. These exact bully behavior are lately increasing at fast rate here in Italy. People who make their own way trough the world not by intelligence or talent, but by arrogance.
I know that we should just look and pass by, but please, if you read here, do me a favor. If you see an arrogant person driving a suv (it has also to be arrogant, you cannot just condemn someone because he/she drive a suv, even if of course a suv is a disrespectful car itself), step with energy on one of his/her feet. Of course, after you should say with a big smile "oh, I am sorry, I didn't see you".
Thanks.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
English vs Italian
Italy, morning
This morning I woke up thinking about work. Thinking about what my uncle told me on sunday. That when you started to be threatened it is difficult to find a way out, that when you are in your 30th you can recycle yourself better than when you are in your 40th and that I should start to think about other options if I don't want to risk to arrive at 40 without job. Of course this was not the best thing to tell me now since I am down, I am already worried about my future, I am working a lot trying to finish as many things as possible and I am trying to take the best decisions for my future. But anyway, I guess my uncle is like this because he is worried for me, like everyone else in my family.
Yesterday I wanted to write a blog, but I didn't feel like writing it in English. So, I decided that I will write a bit in English and a bit in Italian, depending on my mood. If someone doesn't understand one or the other language, he/she can always use the google translator, which doesn't translate perfectly well, but it helps to at least get an idea of the meaning of the blog.
This morning I woke up thinking about work. Thinking about what my uncle told me on sunday. That when you started to be threatened it is difficult to find a way out, that when you are in your 30th you can recycle yourself better than when you are in your 40th and that I should start to think about other options if I don't want to risk to arrive at 40 without job. Of course this was not the best thing to tell me now since I am down, I am already worried about my future, I am working a lot trying to finish as many things as possible and I am trying to take the best decisions for my future. But anyway, I guess my uncle is like this because he is worried for me, like everyone else in my family.
Yesterday I wanted to write a blog, but I didn't feel like writing it in English. So, I decided that I will write a bit in English and a bit in Italian, depending on my mood. If someone doesn't understand one or the other language, he/she can always use the google translator, which doesn't translate perfectly well, but it helps to at least get an idea of the meaning of the blog.
Friday, March 14, 2008
flowers
Lucca (Italy), early afternoon
Sometimes I would like to have my computer with me while I doing random stuff. I biked downtown to buy some flowers for my mum this morning (it is her birthday). It was sunny, warm, a perfect day to spend time outside. I got the plants/flowers and put them in my bike basket and biked back home. The sun was shining, I had a nice chat with the woman of the flower shop, and the flowers looked nice in my basket. I started to think about all the times I saw people in Amsterdam biking back from the open markets with flowers (mainly tulips) in their bike baskets. I always loved that. It is one of these little things that I don't know why, but it makes me happy. The sun, a bike and the flowers in the bike basket. I would love to have my life somewhere where I could go to buy flowers during the week end, put them in my bike basket and bike back home...and maybe once at home, make a cake....It seems all so nice in my imagination.
Sometimes I would like to have my computer with me while I doing random stuff. I biked downtown to buy some flowers for my mum this morning (it is her birthday). It was sunny, warm, a perfect day to spend time outside. I got the plants/flowers and put them in my bike basket and biked back home. The sun was shining, I had a nice chat with the woman of the flower shop, and the flowers looked nice in my basket. I started to think about all the times I saw people in Amsterdam biking back from the open markets with flowers (mainly tulips) in their bike baskets. I always loved that. It is one of these little things that I don't know why, but it makes me happy. The sun, a bike and the flowers in the bike basket. I would love to have my life somewhere where I could go to buy flowers during the week end, put them in my bike basket and bike back home...and maybe once at home, make a cake....It seems all so nice in my imagination.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
back
Italy, morning
I am back from Sardinia. I had a great time there and a good field work. It was especially positive to meet so many nice people. They made me feel that there is something more out there than just fighting for work. Of course, the only day I checked my emails I found a naughty email from my ex bosses in which one of them even threatened me writing that he will actively block my future papers, not write any positive reference letter on my behalf if I will need it and things like this. The main problem is that I saw these people (especially one of them) blocking other's people careers. It is honestly frustrating. But I am really happy to be the way I am. At least I can see myself in the mirror every morning without being disgusted at myself.
Anyway, more about Sardinia in one of the next blog.
I am back from Sardinia. I had a great time there and a good field work. It was especially positive to meet so many nice people. They made me feel that there is something more out there than just fighting for work. Of course, the only day I checked my emails I found a naughty email from my ex bosses in which one of them even threatened me writing that he will actively block my future papers, not write any positive reference letter on my behalf if I will need it and things like this. The main problem is that I saw these people (especially one of them) blocking other's people careers. It is honestly frustrating. But I am really happy to be the way I am. At least I can see myself in the mirror every morning without being disgusted at myself.
Anyway, more about Sardinia in one of the next blog.
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