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Saturday, January 31, 2004

At the cross road today, while I was waiting for the light to turn green, I saw a few funny things:

I saw a guy in a suit, playing with drustick on his stearing wheel.
I saw a lady flossing, while her teeth were on the dashboard (which would make them... a denture I guess hehehehe)
I saw a guy talking on the cell phone, while his passenger was talking on the cellphone too.
I saw somebody singing with his stereo.
I saw a man that could not drive too well and got stuck with his car in the middle of the crossroad, while everybody elses danced around him with their vehicle. At a certain point the coreography took the shape of a five points star.
I saw a girl brushing her dog and using the same brush to brush her hair.
I saw a man switching from contacts to glasses.

When people asks me why are we alive? I cannot but think... it is for moments like these.

Thursday, January 29, 2004

My friend Art made me notice I mispell a lot.

I never re-read what I write a second time... that would be writing, it would like editing and publishing something that has been spellchecked and refined.
It's like when you draw and the rough gesture is so nice and... when you do clean up you loose the freshness of it altogether.

I think of this as a free flow... I love free flow exercises... in my mispelling I can also see... how faster my fingers are compared to my eyes.

In the end I could also manage to change the colors of this thing and link my dedasaur club to it. He he he
I know nothing of HTML but one evening I had a conversation about it (and how to make a website... which I call a websyte - cuz I am getting psysched about it) with my friend Vonleigh.
He is cool, begins every sentence with Dude and ends it with whatnot (or watnot, that's how he writes it), as for me he begins every conversation with preciosa... and closes it with ciao, linda =).
He he he the whole conversation took place via messenger... so long ago, before the holidasy.
But the other night, for fun, I went into the templates of the blog and changed colors to it.
that's what I learnt from that bit of a conversation.

Aaah culture!

My first day of class, in College (actually University of Siena) I can never forget. I was sitting in History of Music.
My teacher was explaining something and went on and on rambling about proportions mentioning the Bed of Procuste (or procuste's bed?) heh as an metaphor. Twentyfive little questionmarks sprouted over the student's heads. He stopped, seeing those doubtful eyes and figured: they don't know what they are talking about!
So he turned to the classroom and asked: how many of you come from classica studies high school?
Some twenty odds hands were raised. The he asked: is there anyone amongst you who know what "the bed of Procuste" is?
My littel hand shows up. SO he asks me and I tell him the story of this giant/bandit that used to stop people in the middle of the forest and put them on a bed... and if they were too short he would stretch them and if they were to long he would cut them... in order to fit the bed. Then one day Hercules came by... and proveided him with the same nice service.
The my teacher asked me: what school do you come from?
And I replied, shy: ITC (Institute of math and accounting)
He started laughing: I should take more accountants in my classes from now on.

Culture... mhhh... or curiosity... or presonal gratification.

Another time, I was in Medieval History class and my teacher Duccio Balestracci (hello Duccio! ^_^) was talking about the 100 years war. So he came up with a monologue from Henry the V, (sorry I don't know it too well in English... all my Shakespeare I learned in italian when I was 16) the saint Crispin and Crispian (?) one. Somehow a line in that monologue says "I was there"... so while my teacher is saying "on that day they will say... on that day''... and I utter "I was there".

"Who said that?" he asked. I stood up and apologized. He smiled. "You were there? You don't look that old at all!"

Ha ha ha... but that very same person a few weeks later cracked a joke: History is already complicated as it is, you should not make it worse by telling it in the wrong order. (Once again my apologies for the translations from Italian to English, of something that was originally English).
Is he reallysaying what he is saying? I asked myself.... and he challenged us: who said that? who said that?
Names of philosophers and historians came out from all over the room. Then he looked at me: You are so quiet.
If I may talk... (I asked for permission)... I think I know the answer: It's Anacleto, the hooter, from Disney's the sword in the stone.

Isn't Anacleto just a wonderful name, for a wise bird, by the way?

That teacher and I became friends. When I went to Disneyland and Disneyworld I sent him postcards.
When I went to Italy with my friends, 3 years ago, and took Grace to see the Palio in Siena, I saw him. He was parading with his Contrada del Nicchio(quartier of the shell) and I called out for him: Professor!
He turned to me and smiled: My dear, thank you for the postcards...

I sent those out to him four years earlier... after four years he still remembered ... and first tought was to thank me.

Ah, culture is a nice thing... but more than general, good, solid culture... personal, individual culture is nice! We cannot know everything, our brain is not meant for that, but it is nice to know what we know... it is funny to see how selective our brain can be with the things we like and dislike. Some people know more about this, others about that.. others know a little bit of everything... or there's the ones who know all about one thing.

Personalized culture, what a great thing!

This is one of those songs... of which... you read/hear the lyrics and think, yeah, I wanted to say that.
I've always had this thing that, I don't think I could be a mom but I would be a pretty cool auntie, one of those who says cool things to kids and all... and since 1998 (although my sister was not married yet) I was already buying and collecting things to give to my eventual nephew/niece.

This song, Claudio Baglioni wrote for his own kid... I was collecting thoughts to pass on to my dear baby nephew, Samuele, and... I stumbled in it... after many many years...
I never really listened to it... but some of the things he says, I wanted to say to my nephew too... so here is to you Samuele dear, that's how life will be like for you, that's what you'll get... this is what you will have...:

Avrai (you will have) Claudio Baglioni

you will have as many smiles on your face
as crickets and stars in Agust.
stories photographed to put in an album
with a leather bind
airplanes' thunders that make our heads look up
and the darknes that will turn into a silver dawn at you window
you will have a telephone (next to you) and that already means... waiting
the foam of crazy waves that pursue each other in the sea
and white pants to take out of your closet for it's summer already
a train straight to America with no stops
you will have two sweet sweet tears to dry (in the sun)
a sun that kills itslef and sunset shell fishermen
snow on the mountains an rain above the hills
you'll have a popsicle stick to suck on (cremino is a vanilla icecream covered with chocolate... on a stick)
you will have an unripe (immature) woman and young pain (pain of youth)
Avenues of leaves in flames to burn your heart
You will have a chair to lean on and hours
as empty as chocolate eggs (easter eggs are hollow ^_^)
and a friend you will have deceived you, betrayed you and cheated on you
you will have you will have and will have your time to go the distance
you will walk forgetting
and will stop dreaming
you will have my same sad hope
and feel that you never loved enough
if love you will have
you will have new words to look for when the evening comes
a hundred bridges with railings to play (as an instrument... you know with the stick)
the first cigarette che will smoke some cough in your mouth
chirstmas with holly and red candles
you will have a job to make you sweat
and morning soaked with shivers and dew
electronic games and rocks on the street
you will have memories, umbrellas and keys to forget
you will have caresses to use to talk with dogs
and tomorrow will always come on a sunday
you will have speeches closed inside of you and hands
that will rummage in life's pockets
and a radio to hear that the war is over
you will have your time to go the distance
you will walk forgetting
and stop dreaming
you will have my same sad hope
and you will feel you never loved enough
if love you will have, my love

and that's what, I wish you with all my heart, you will have my love...

Wednesday, January 28, 2004

This is the narration of my short film Ugly Duck done (from january 2002 to april 2003) in collaboration with Grace Toh. I wrote this poetry from a little fairy tale I wrote for my friend who was depressed... and from that little fairy tale the idea for the movie came out and then, we decided to change all the dialogues and the narration into a poetry. (when I wrote this story I did not know there was an Esopo fable very similar to it, one friend made me noticed it afterwards... there is a very good reason why I did not know... I hate Esopo, I have a good reason to hate his fables, I never read any of his stories... I will talk antoher time about it thought, it is related to a very stressful memory)

Ugly Duck

There was once, once upon a time
A land round and bright like the sunshine.
There was a farm on a hill, and there were animals,
All superficial, snobs, and hypercritical.

Amongst these creatures so very judgmental,
Lived an amazing peacock, pure and gentle.
And every morning the peacock he would glide,
Towards the animals with elegance and pride.

His tail he’d open like a fan of rainbow nuances,
And tall he’d stand while the other ones with glances
Of rage and envy at his beauty they would stare,
And none of them to be by him would dare. Pc closes tail

So beautiful, you are, they would then hail,
So elegant you are from head to tail.
So colorful you are, no one is like you,
You make everyone wish they were cute too.

Especially the duck, he would make faces
And turn his head away to other places.
An ugly duck that craves for many attentions,
An ugly duck could grow ambitious intentions.

So while the others would stare, in awe, and sigh.
The ugly duck could feel that deep inside,
He could be beautiful and popular as well,
If he too had a rainbowed peacock’s tail.

And he would plan a plot to be unique,
Till he came up with an idea so diabolique!
He would disguise himself to go acquire,
The peacock’s beauty, the beauty so desired.

So like a thief and covered by night,
He sneaked around under the pale moonlight,
He went to visit the peacock’s little house
And jumped inside fast as a little mouse.

What happened next will leave you in dismay ,
See by yourself what Duck did the next day,
With peacock’s feather stuck to his bare butt
He pigeon-toed across the round hill top.

With his new beauty that his wasn’t at all,
He glided, waddled and stood so proud and tall,
That all the other animals would stare
And none of them to be by him would dare.

So beautiful, it is, they would then hail,
So colorful and elegant is your tail.
So beautiful it is, no one is like it,
But at the tail they’d stare… not at the ducky.

Hold on a second – replied the duck so vainly,
Why are you mentioning my butt and my butt only?
So beautiful I am, no one is like me,
So colorful I am, as colorful can be.

You are not beautiful, replied the little chick,
With someone else’s feathers you are a freak!
Your tail is very pretty one can hail,
But you‘re an ugly duck with peacock’s tail.

And so duck could finally understand,
No matter how he tried to glide and stand,
He could not change the nature of his soul,
Now twice as ugly because he even stole.

One cannot change like snakes that shed its skin,
If changes aren’t coming from within
Ugliness goes deep and beauty clouds,
If change you must, then change from inside out.

tyn studios (2003)

Achillis and the Tortoise.

It's a philosophical paradox. I never actually completely got it... because if it were true it totally defeats the purpose of chronometer races (like in bikes competitions) where the best time is the one to win.

I heard about it pretty late in my life, I was in high school already, beacause my best friend Giorgia was reading The Abyss (L'OEUVRE AU NOIR) from Marguerite Yourcenar. The paradox says that if Achillis (supposedly the fastest man on Earth) and a toroise were to race against each other, if the tortoise starts first it will win, because for every step Achillis will take the tortoise took one too. I never stopped to ponder too much about the philosophical meaning of this paradox, but I did have my own personal interpretation of the fact... which maybe is way more superficial than what the real meaning of the story is... but it did help me somewhat during my life.

there are times in which we compare ourselves to others. When I was in school my mom always complained about my grades because I was smart enough to get straight A's, but always settled for B's (as long as they got me through school getting unnoticed and leaving no problems behind). I would alwasy say: why do you complain? there's people with worse grades than mine. She would reply: do not look at worse peopl always look up to the better ones.
In one way what she said made sense, why should we settle and compare with something that is too easy to be compared to. Silver is better than iron, but hey there's always gold.
On the other end there's was something wrong about what she said: why compare myselt to something different, something "other" than me... when it is me I should deal with?
I am silver, gold is a whole different material.

So, I was just thinking, she is wrong, until Giorgia told me: I read this in this book, I do not understand it but it is a funny story. And she told me about the paradox. So I thought, it does not make sense, like this... the biker who leaves first in the tour the France wins the tour! Five laughed for about five minutes then I thought: although this turtle... defeats Achillis by just being a turtle. (actually a tortoise) I got enlightened: the tortoise is not competing against Achillis, the tortoise is competing against itself.
So she does not have to be anything but what she is and no matter how fast Achillis is... the tortoise too is taking things one step at the time, at her own pace. So going back to silver too... there's silver 750 and silver 800 it depends on how it is refined.... there are diamonds and brilliants it depends on how they are cut.
I will set standards for myself. If I challenge myself to be the best that I can be and compare myself to myself at all time, I will improve too, I will grow up, I will learn, but I will be me.

That was the day I chose I will never measure myself again, using someone else's meter, because the only meter that can measure me, I have to set. I have to say, that challenging oneself's is way harder than competing with someone else. It is not a matter of defeating another person... it a defeat there will be, it will be our own, so we better not get defeated... but we have to win. How tricky eh?

When I started my "production" company, I called it: the little wizard (because I wanted to turn into magin anything I touched)
When I started my "musical production" I called the company: Achillis and the tortoise.
We had a song that we had to sing before a show:
"I lived all my life, with just the right pace that a tortoise life can't but envy and not compare, and so if I think, I will only sit, If I have to run, I feel oh so bummed. Never, Never I would expect in life to come to this, I was so sure I will always be true me and what me is, but if you give me a rhyme or reason, then I will change. It's like magic, just look at that, was I meant or not for success, I am that magnificent tortoise Achillis will never defeat".

heh, I wish I could attach music to this (it sounds completely different and less stupid when you sing it)!

Monday, January 26, 2004

Oooh the last one on the post office. My dad's adventure.
He bought one of those boxes that says Poste Italiane (Postal Services) on it (in the Us they are white and blue, in italy they are yellow with big blue letters on 'em) and put some stuff for me in there and went to send it.
The guy told him: u cannot use this boxes.
My dad: why? you sell them for display only?
the guy: You can only use them in Italy... u cannot send them outside the country cuz u see they say: Poste Italiane (italian Postal service)

With these words of wisdom in mind... (and neither of us is still perfectly clear about their meaning... maybe if it said Italian postal services it was only for Italian use? and If it said Poste Americane u could send them abroad?)... my dad took some brown tape and taped over the Poste italiane, so it would not show and went back.

My dad: is it fine now?
the guy: it might!

And sent it. Well, aside from the fact I received tons of those yellow boxes and the Poste Italiane thingy on it never bothered mymail man here in the U.S. my fahter told me:

You know according to his theory then, we live in a psychiatric hospital?
I asked: why?
my dad: well, cuz the sign is outside of the hospital not inside... and that is supposed to inform us that the crazy people must be us, not the ones inside.

Now it all makes sense!

Wednesday, January 21, 2004

the post office... I have a theory on the post office and their agents... in Italy... they give them IQ test. If they are smart, they won't get hired.

No offense.. the post office in Italy, especially in small town, could be compared to a spiral like Hell... where one just keep sinking.

Well, this is due to the fact that people pay their bills there, they collect their pension, as well as using it for mail service. So there's usually to line... the yellow one for the mail and the green one for all the rest... and it is like... the worse case scenario to get stuck into that one. First of all... I don't get why Italians still pay their bills at the post office instead of using their bank account, maybe they don't trust the bank, maybe they are afraid that if they are charged too much they will not get their money back (as I said previously... complaint is an Alien word). But all the bills, phone, gas, water, garbage, electricity... they all have to be paid there. On the same line old people collect their pension. SOme of them speak italian some of them don't. This is due to the fact the before WWII not everybody could afford to go to school and finish ninth grade. My grandma only went to school for five years, my great auntie for six (she is the only one in the family is very produ of it and always shows off for it).

so at times the lines are very slow because of miscomunication problem between the old lady/man speaking dialect and the post agent (who speaks dialect too.. but hey they are all dumb!).

Another characteristic of the post agent in Italy is... they are all lazy... they have this thing that we call Flemma (which could be translated into "turtle like pace"), they are not very kind either. So this is one of the little adventures I had at the post office once.

I was standing in line right behind the yellow line... a dude behind me cuts in front.
Deda: yo, stay in line.
Dude: you were not moving further.
Deda: yo read the sing, stay behind the yellow line.. so I did... move back.

When somebody cuts in front of you in italy... it is not only a great offense but really dangerous... it could cause a riot (and I can see people stacking a couple of shovels and forks in their bags, just in case) and the perp can be crucified on the spot.

I finally get to the lady and I say that I need to do priority mail, reccomended, to the united states (there used to be this thing that if the package was not bigger than 90 cm... height, lenght, depth... and below 2 kg - 1 pound more or less - it would not cost more than 8 dollars to send it, now it's 15! they doubled the price overnight!!! what a teft).

the lady looks at me and says: you can't do reccomended mail to the states.
deda: I always did, it's 8,8 euros if the size of the package is 90 cm and below 2 kg.
lady: it's impossible.
deda: get the catalog.

Shit, the catalog it too far away and I know the lady would not move her ass away from the chair to get it. Wow, what a mythological creature a postal agent is.... half man half chair... it's a brand new type of centaurus: a chairtaurus.

lady: I am sure u cannot do it... let's do priority instead!!
Deda: no wait!!! don't do stuff to my package I don't want... do what I say. I always did it.. you can do it.

Now I realize why she won;t do it... the stamps... the stamps for the reccomended mail are in the office.. way too far for her!

Deda: okay trust me just... do it.
lady: then we do surface mail... it's cheaper eh?
Deda: (upset) call me your boss please?
lady: (in shock) why?
Deda: I want your service to be worth my money....

the people behind me is getting frustrated...
a man: and call her the boss already.

The boss peers from the door of the office and I yell: Don't move yet! while you are there... could you fetch her the stamps for the reccomended stamps and the catalog please?

So the guy comes by fetches the catalog and the stamps and asks me: what seems to be the problem.
So I explain the situation and he smiles: yah, it's 8,8 euros!!!

So I finally grin and get my package done properly!!!!

the lady says: I did not know u could do that!
deda: (together with some 4 guys behind me) that's what I (she) was telling you for 15 minutes!

So she take the stamps, the sticker and she has that print thingy that she slams on my package as hard as she can (what a heavy hand!!!) and she reeeeaaaally takes her time to do so. So i leave and while I am putting my money back in the wallet the guy that was behind me is asking for some service and she says: no we can't do that.
guy: okay call me your boss
and the lady: arlight we'll do it!!!

And she finally gets off her chair.

In the end I realized one thing... the post office in my home town has bars between the postal employee and the customers. Truth is those poor agent looks at life through bars and they must feel like being in jail all the time. Maybe the felt they did something wrong in their previous life or something... so they feel compelled to treat everyone else like... poop under their shoes.

How sad migh their life be!!!! while out here, in the line... everything's so grand!!!

Friday, January 16, 2004

Hahahaha... so my friends always tell me I get into the weirdest situations... so true... but afterwards I usually make good stories out of them... to tell people and make them laugh.
I dunno if the situations are really funny... or if it is the way I tell them... for sure I am very animated when speaking and that helps a lot. But I thought if Iwrite them down... maybe I can figure out how funny they actually are.

In 1998 I left my hometown Siena (Tuscany) to go work in Paris for six months.
When I was there tons of things happened to me, the most obvuois one was that my take on life was completely different. When I came back in Italy, the followin fall, I was a different person. My sister would look at me with big caramel eye like to say: I liked you cuz u were my sister but now you are this totally cool gal! let's be buddies.
Well first funny thing that happened to me was that... I could not speak proper italian anymore (I cursed in French yeah) but if anyone asked me: have you eaten yet?
Instead of replying : I did... I would say: I just came from eating (which doesn't make much sense in Italian)...
In Italian would be: ho mangiato.... not vengo da mangiare... that is French grammar applied to Italian!!! LOL
The other funny thing was I came back more cheerful, corteous and kind (that probably had to do with the fact I worked in Disneyland where u have to grin even if you are about to die, right? ^_^) and at the same time I was more demanding on thing. I learned from the British (those frightening Brits) one sentence: the service provided is not worht the price, I want my money back!
The first time I heard that sentence was like... Goood!!! The sky opened and.... a ray of light came straight to my forehead and....: wow, can I do that?
You see in Italy people complains a lot, they complain to themselves (yeah we think out loud a lot!), they complain with their neighbour, the complaint with the priest... nobody ever goes and complaint at the source of their problem.

So these are the premises... now here's the funny story: MY FIRST ITALIAN COMPLAINT.

My sister and I went to our bank a couple of time in order to withdraw money from the atm machine. The thing had been out for two days now and we needed to pay rent that very same day (beside we were short on cash too for grocery shopping and other stuff). Now our atm card is the kind that, if u don't withdraw form you bank you are charge the most incredibly high transaction's fee on the surface of the planet!!! I'll be honest... we were pretty upset.
The ATM was still out of order. So my sister is there shaking her fist at the bank and ranting about it when I look at her, calmly and tell her: let's go complain.
Complain? Was that italian? I believe not... and to whom should you complain? the mistery of this word was soo the be revealed.
We get inside the Bank and I approach a nice lady: good morning, the Atm is out of order and we need to withdraw some cash now...
lady: get a withdrawal slip and step in line with the other.
Oh the line!!! One cashier only and some 35 people in front of us.
So then I say: No, I want to use the atm machine...
lady: well it's out of order.
me: I see that, what should we do to get it fixed?
lady: fixed? (anoter strange word)
me: yes you know, the little guy in the jumpsuit sticks a screwdriver in it and poof the whole system is back up?
lady: oh we called the phone company two days ago.
me: so?
lady: eventually they'll send someone?
me: eventually?
lady: they'll said their technician was on his way... but it was two days ago...
me: (gasping) did he die on his way here? well call them again!!!
lady: but eventually
There I am beginning to loose my patience and I say: eventually you call me you supervisor (another strange word)... your boss?
lady: why?
me: cuz eventually i close my account here and the ones of my family and the friends of my family if I just spread the world... go go.. call him.
the lady pick up the phone and calls her boss. The boss come at her desk and her begins part two of another alien conversation.
boss: yes.
lady: this lady here wants the atm fixed.
boss: we called the phone company two days ago...
me: eventually they'll send someone... no no... we call them again now.. and we have them send someone right now.
the man looks at me with astonished eyes, then looks at the lady. In all this my sister is laughing her guts out. So the man picks up the phone and call the phone company and guess what they say: eventually they'll send someone... exactly...
So I say: pass me that phone please...
I grab it and here goes conversation number 3.
me: yes, where there any death amongst you tech recently?
the man on the other side: Our tech are all in perfect health
me: well why don't u send one over and fix the atm?
mots (for short): Oh yeah we got the request from the bank....
me: two days ago!!!
mots: eventually
me: you'll send someone... look I am supposed to starce cuz you like playing games? can I talk to you supervisor? (silence) your boss?
Another man come on the phone. Before I can even say good afternoon I say: This is the bank of Rome if you don't send a tech to fix the atm we'll cancel our account with you nationwide..
the boss of the bank: can we do that?
lady shrugs her shoulders... my sister is rolling on the floor laughing.
the other boss: can you do that?
me: hear talk to the director.
so the two boss have a conversation and the bank guy tells me: they say they'll send someone in 45 minutes...
me: tell them we'll call them back if he does not show up.
So I grab a chair and i sit down and we end up ordering cappuccino a croissant from the bar until the tech guy shows up and fixes the atm... and all of this in less then 45 mintues.
after that I tell my sister to go check the atm and she comes back with the money and a big smile. Most of the people gets out of line... there's an applause... then I bid them good day and we leave the bank. For all i know that atm has never been broken again.

and this, ladies and gentlemen is Italian way of banking... next chapter will be: the post office (it's almost a myth already)

Monday, January 05, 2004

I wrote some verses for new year and sent it to my friends... some of them reaaally like them. I think it is funny cuz I don't think I make such a great poet after all... I love to write rigmarole, that's for sure... but my rhymes are all funny and this is due to the fact that English is something like... my 6th language!!!

Anyway... since people liked my greetings I will post them here both in English and Italian... the ones in Italian rhyme better nd are funnier but I think the ones in English are somewhat what I wished to myself too. Well, maybe I was just able to say the same things in Italian with better rhymes and more sense of humor... if you can read both languages, please let me know which one you enjoy the best.


Happy New Year Everyone,
>I hope the new year will bring you joy, days fulls of
>deep thoughts and merry laughters, moments of truth,
>days dressed in blue, hours of satisfaction, seconds
>of glory, dishes full of your favorite food and
>costant meals, smiles on other people faces who are
>facing you, no heavy troubles to trouble your heads,
>no moments of sorrow to bend your will and put you to
>bed. I hope you will run in the sun and with pride, I
>hope that your friend you will always remind, I wish you
>the best, I wish you good luck, I wish you to beat a
>record and of money a stack! i wish you a happinnes of
>quiet contemplation and the warth of a family and of a
>pet great affection. If u can do it I wish you nights
>of good sleep, with sweet golden dreams and never
>sleep in. I wish you a good umbrella in a very rainy
>day, I wish you contemplation in front of a
>masterpiece, I wish you ambition to strive and demand
>the best, I wish you serenity when you reflect in
>front of a mirror. All of these I wish you with my
>heart and my soul... happy new year my friends, happy
>new year to you all!

>Felice Anno Nuovo a tutti voi, vi auguro un buon anno
>pieno di sogni e di soddisfazioni, di lauti pasti,
>squisitezze e ammirazioni. vi auguro di passeggiare
>sotto un ombrello quando piove, vi auguro di non
>scordare mai chiavi, portafogli ed occhiali da sole.
>Vi auguro giorni pieni di pensieri e parole, di
>attimi fuggenti carpiti e sole e suole. Un anno di
>soddisfazione, una vita di gloria, una settimana di
>ferie ed un momento di vittoria. Vi auguro buon anno
>se buon anno sara', ve lo auguro di cuore, sara'
>l'anno che verra'.

Saturday, January 03, 2004

I moved to a new place... I was living as happy pirate on Treasure Island... so nice, peaceful and quiet. Now I am a "ground pirate" I moved downtown... pretty interesting spot, ironically, across the street from one of my fave thai restaurant in the city.
Uhm... Pra-ram... mhhhhh. ^_^
Other than that, I have hardwood floor and a big closet in my room with a mirror, which I really needed. Do I like being a ground pirate? So far so good...
I have to say it has its comfort, I don't have to put with the buses anymore and my street is not as noisy as I thought. Last night I went to see a movie at the late show and I was at the Metreon in five minutes... wow! That was actually kind of cool... the movie was Big FIsh by TIm Burton... a very nice fairy tale.
The only bad thing about my moving was... I got a ticket form the dpt. That was not nice. Well, what's the point of giving a ticket to a U-Haul truck? Beside... little man driving the little car, if you gave a me a ticket it means that you passed by my truck twice and you should have seen there were only two little ladies doing the moving. In Italy, the DPT guy would come to you and tell you...: ladies you've been here more than you can stay already, you have to move the truck or I'll give you a ticket...
then you can talk to him and say: so sorry but you see it's only two girls and we are doing this thingy so slowly... it would be too much of a hassle to move the truck... besides, what if someone takes the spot? How are we going to do then?
So the little man would close one eye and say: fine...
and wish you a good day.
(of course in Italy they are not as kind with cars. Especially the women who work for the dpt... they are mercyless! So beware of dpt women when u go to Italy).
Anyway, I realize that people here can be very curteous but kindness is a whole other things. Sometimes Italians are rude, not too polite, and very aggressive... I thought they were pretty nervouse (when I went back home in september) but overall there's a bit more kindness.

The difference from courtesy and kindness is... in beliefs, I think.
Courtesy is something that is imposed to you by education and society and you can smile and be nice to someone and ask: how u doing (but you don't actually really care).
Kindess, somehow, sprouts form the heart. I saw kindness every time you ask: where is this place? and the person smiles back at you and says: here, I'll take you there, it's too complicated to explain... and during the walk talks to you and treats you as if you were a real human being.
Most of the time people looks at you as if you were see through.

Of course kindness is not to be confused with generosity. Generosity is an act of selfishness.