Up is Down

What do you do when your head is a mess, a real casino? There is a real storm brewing up there and I am fearful when it boils over. I was just in Istanbul. There were flags dancing in the wind and skipping through the rainy skies. The election was the day I left. I got out of there just in time. I was sad I didn’t get to see what I’ve only seen in pictures, but relieved I wouldn’t be stuck in a situation I would be so overwhelmed by. The riots I missed and escaped are a specchio to what I’m experiencing in my testa. Oh how I wish I could sort through the lot like a deck of cards. Shuffle it up a bit and have everything be okay. 

Meeting people has always been a knack of mine. An old teacher and dear friend of mine told me I am also good at staying in touch. As I’ve learned this is sometimes painful for me. Being that I get so easily attached to people. I feel their pain easily. I can read people and situations fairly easily, too. People are like a glob of emotions. I want to know them. I want to help them how I can. It’s my curse. 

Traveling has only intensified this pain. I learn from people. I sometimes get too deep into their messes, their lives, them. Here I am stuck in what looked like dry ground. Below there was a sticky mud. Here I am stuck. Here I am stuck. 

Stuck in a web of people that I feel attached to. 

And this time this web spans miles and miles and kilometers and kilometers…

I’m laying on some medieval torture device. Pain inflicted by willingly grasping the points from which I am stretched. How horrid! To feel so compelled to know others.

I can’t let go. How can I? I will hurt them. But in the process, look at me. 

I have to learn about myself first. I am trying. 

15 marzo

It’s been a while. The way many of us seem to greet each other lately isn’t it. Lo sai what I’m talking about. I rarely get the time to sit down and write down my thoughts here. When I do, it is because I have forced myself to sit down and pause. Or that I have something important to say. Something I at least find important. But what one finds important, important enough to publish, share, etc. is a topic all it’s own – that I have given much thought to.

Walking home today, the sun was out. Finally. If one can imagine Rome any more beautiful than the picture you can conjure up in your head, it is how she looks now. The trees with knobby twists and turns are being dressed in floral gowns. Decorated with sweet and soft pinks. And as the spring rolls along, there will be more streets and regal gardens dressed just so.

This weekend, I have so much homework, internship hours, paper writing, study guide making, to do. But I have not explored Villa Borghese as much as I would like to. My plan is to spread out somewhere and do my homework there.

This week, I have been trying new places. I found a new cafe (which I am hesitant to tell people at school about, lest they should start frequenting it too and I should have to see them here too), with a red couch and two red arm chairs. Velvet. I want one day to have a red velvet couch in my house. The place is comfy and tucked behind the bar and shelves of books. Perfect for a cappuccino, cornetto, and reading. Which I did yesterday.

Yesterday I went to Barnum with a girl in the program who has been in Rome for a semester more than I have. She is knowledgeable of cafes, going-ons, etc. This place also has a couch. Couches are essential in studying. A great atmosphere. But muffins are 2,50 euro. Oy!

Yesterday for pre-dinner, I went to another cafe just for a cookie. Good cookie. I am going back here.

feeling fragile

missing mad.. and home a bit.

The idea of Subjectivism.  There was never home. Only you, a place, and how you saw it. Home only existed in a time and for you. That’s why when you try to find it now, it disappoints. It’s not the same as the memory of waking up and being a kid with a furry rug between your toes, dancing the AC/DC, playing dolls and horses, or shopping for new pencils before school each year.

I am a raggedy person. My nails have grown too long. My hair hangs in fringes. I only notice these things when I’m in a particular mood. And sometimes the conversations with particular people set me off spiraling. Down and around up possibly too. But in a blur of thought. I am encapsulated in one of these moods. Pensive. My thoughts are like Mary Poppin’s bag but with all the extra weight. They are vast and deep. You got me thinking about my values and what is really important.

What I can say is this is nothing to be alarmed by! Really. These moods, though heavy, are extremely important for me. I am growing. Like gaining weight, it’s hard to see sometimes because we get so comfortable with ourselves on a day to day basis. So when we try to see our progress, we rarely can evaluate it. But these moods give me the perspective I sometimes lack.

It’s not just one person by my saying you. And don’t try to ask me to whom I am refering. It is a general you. I am lucky to have found such interesting people. I am hanging in a web that has organically sprung forth and connects me to people around the world and from all walks of life and with ideas just as varied. Here I am in the middle absorbing and learning and formulating my own ideas. However incomplete they are now, I am doing so. One day they will be something possibly worthy of sharing more often.

Today I have been click clacking away, formulating the basis of one of two papers, reviewing readings, and freaking the al;dknaiobgapiufadjnv out! I have way too much to accomplish.

*This blog post is a compilation of thoughts from the last few days.

Blah Blah 3 marzo

I realized I haven’t written in a while. Well, here is an update of sorts:

I am trying my best to meet Italian people my age. I have gone so far as to make an account on a Language Exchange website. Am I desperate? Possibly. But really… non me ne frega! Don’t say that. Take it from me, it’s a tad rude. But here on my blog, this is my space to shout out what I feel– of course, to an extent. I won’t tell you exactly what I am thinking. That would be dangerous.

I ate a huge meal. I have been eating way too much! I was telling my mom on the phone last night that I had thought I was losing weight here. You know when people say they walked a mile uphill both ways to and from school? Well, I do that here. Sorta. Actually ok not really. But I do walk 30 minutes at the least speed walking to school. Believe me on that one. I forgot my notebook at school the other day and I obviously walked all the way back to school after taking a shower. I got sweaty needless to say. I arrived with wet hair and wet pits. Yummy.

It was during this last week that I was able to see such situations with a positive spin. After I had found my missing notebook, I walked the ponte across the Tiber River, looking back to see St. Peter’s cathedral looming in the distance. The bulging cuppola hanging in the air, the blue hues mixing and disappearing into one swirl of clouds and mist.

I sat to listen to a blues guitar player outside the Castel Sant’ Angelo. I would have started my Italian homework, but all of it was audio and thus I needed a computer. So I whipped out my sketchbook. I started drawing the mess of hair that sat on his head as he looked down to his dancing fingers. The songs reminded me of a friend at home to whom I haven’t talked to since leaving. I used to love listening to his organic rhythms he would summon forth from the strings on his guitar.

I realized that I should give the guy a tip. An obvious American went up to him and asked for a pictures. He accepted and continued to play. But she got all up near the guy in true selfie form. What a laugh. I couldn’t help but let a few escape my lips. I smiled and finished my drawing.

I went over and dropped a few coins. I would need to find a few more in my pockets at home to buy coffee tomorrow. But the drawing and time sitting alongside the Tiber with his music was worth it. I let him see my picture. I had seen him stealing glances at my pencil and paper as I had been drawing. He asked for a picture of it. I of course said yes. I sent him the picture.

Positive.

Today, and lately, I have been fed up with the way that my Italian lesson is structured. How can one possibly expect me to speak (at all) when there is no room to do so in class. And how can you even say that I don’t ask enough questions? I am the only one that asks questions!! If I was a teacher I would do it differently.

I’ve been putting a lot of effort into trying. I know I just said this in my last post but I am frustrated. When learning things, I hit a wall. The magic fades that hung around the new thing at the start. The shine grows dull. The allure and mystique wane. It’s just me and this mountain of a goal left. Where are the footholds now?

I am still going for it. Don’t misunderstand me (as most do when I try to construct complex sentences in Italian…this would be the time to implement my street and sailor- like language to use).

I will not quit.

Random- I ran the track that Mussolini ran! Yea.

On another subject, I am going to a concert tomorrow night! I am going to try to make it to a club afterwards. There is supposed to be electro-swing. Knowing how most nights go, I might not make it there, but chissa!  I am so excited for this FAT TUESDAY!

Then it’s Lent… oh vey.

Then it’s the weekend. This weekend, I am going to Florence with my housemate. We’re getting along well still. I miss my roommate from Berkeley though. And some particular friends. But I won’t go naming names, I like to keep them to myself on here. But yea, this is the reason that I really don’t let myself think about home or places other than where I am at the moment. It’s a distraction. It’s saddening sometimes. Why do that to yourself anyways?

The internship- Easy. Interesting. Cool. Long Commute.

Classes- A lot of info. Traveling. All about Rome.

People- Meeting a lot of new ones. Some Italian. Some American. Had a beer at a bar the other night. Felt so adultlike. It was fun. Really though, in conversation, I love listening and learning. In settings, I love to observe, describe, and reflect on those there. I met two crazy white haired Italian men in a bookstore with the most outrageous chotchkeys! You wouldn’t even believe it if I told you. I held a Marilyn Monroe negative. This whole store was crazy. The two men bustled around gibbering and jabbering. Shuffling so anxiously as the looseleaf papers strewn everywhere.

Rome is treating me well. I am excited to say that I will be returning to Morocco. I know I’m crazy (for some reason here, I have heard that quasi too many times. I get it. I’m a little weird?). I am so ready to go back. Then after Morocco is Istanbul. That too is exciting to me. My original plan for Istanbul would have been really something, but this is cool too.

There are so many adventures awaiting me. I just have to stick to my goals. I can do this. I can do this.

Ciao! A presto!

Dialogo Interno

Mi avevi dato una ragione odiare essere qui. E troppo facile essere giu o nemmeno un po frustrata. C’e tanti ragione amare questo luogo, ma te lo fai difficile vederli. Non posso vedere niente quando sono frustrata. Quando ero piccola e giocavo il calcio, ho odiato imparando delle cose. Alla prima, non so come farlo. Avevi gia aggiunto piu! Dici che sono un casino oppuro che non puoi capire quando posso provare parlare. Beh! Perche nemmeno provo?? Ogni volte che provo, qualcuno dice… “non ho capito!” Allora, cosa so dire e delle parole cattive. Ma, qui.. non diro queste parole. ….fa schifo! Voglio cosi tanto potere parlare con gli Italiani. Odio questo situazione. Essere in Italia. Dove avevo voluto essere per tutto la mia vita. Ma adesso, sto qui.. Sono frustrata. Sempre. Ma questo e la vita. Cosi, provo. Sempre provo.