DAZE

Another Tuesday. Sunny yet sterile. At last there is something to tell. Yesterday they told me that I had been selected for both the scholarships I had applied for. But no one knows where will they send me. It all depends on the Americans and, well, maybe I won't know anything until April. I have spent the whole morning looking for some professor to sign a recomendation form. I couldn't find anyone, absolutely no one. The university is deserted. I do understand it's exam period but certainly students still have doubts and need the assistance of the professors, don't they? I may sound unfair but I do think that professors employ a much lesser amount of effort than students. I hate the hypocrisy of the whole thing. And the same with the bureaucratic stuff. It's all badly organized nonsense and I hate them.
Tomorrow I have a final exam on Old English. And I don't even have the notes. I haven't been to class. No one has shown me how to do the exercices. I really don't know what will the professor require of us. Everyone is afraid of this exam. The only questions that I was certain I could answer correctly were the theoretical ones, but I won't be able to answer at all, since I don't have the notes.
I shouldn't complain. I am very lucky. And everyones tries to help in one way or another. But, gosh, does everyone ignore responsibility? I am upset and I really want to slap someone and just get things going. But everything (and everyone) is paralyzed and ineffective.
To hell. It's only life, isn't it?

CONSPIRACY OF SILENCE

Today is the first day of the Year of the Dog for the Chinese. On New Year's Day I was asleep, and on the Georgian New Year's Day (celebrated in Russia, for example) I was away from myself. I decided to wait until the Chinese New Year to write my resolutions for 2006, or for the future. So what are they? I wonder. I really don't know. Get good marks? That's not really a resolution and it's not really novel. Take more dancing lessons? Yes, I guess so, but still doesn't feel quite adequate. So what do I want? What do I want from this year? What do I want from my future? What do I want from life? What do I want from myself?
I have no clue.
There is a conspiracy of silence in my mind.
I dream all day long. I create a parallel reality and I invest more energy in imagining it than in living reality. But still I don't know what I want. So what do I dream about?
I suppose my dreams are about belonging. About being part of something and someone. Being able to sing and dance and perform and write and give lessons. Being reckless and enchanting and happy. And then quieting down, and being happier still. I dream about having my own house, made of wood, built by someone I know and care about, surrounded by trees. Climbing up to the roof to observe the stars or wait for the dawn. I dream about being part of a family. A big family. I dream about a fireplace and blankets and warmth. And maybe my dreams aren't my own, but just images of films I've seen, maybe just the product of a bad childhood. I do wish that someone had read fairy tales to me when I was little. Maybe then I wouldn't have to invent them myself. Maybe I could be a real human being. Maybe I wouldn't need to write my New Year resolutions to have any resolutions.
I am lost at sea and drowning fast. In a couple of minutes my hair will become a medusa and I will be lost.

I WISH YOU WERE HERE

Saturday evening. Upset. I hate hate hate Old English. I hate hate hate my presumptous ambition, taking exams for courses I have not attended. How can I possibly learn and understand all on my own? Will it be ok as always? Will I finally fail? I wait for my scholarship money and I wait for the decission about next year. Where will I go? Where will they send me? Will they even send me anywhere? Do I deserve it? Not even literature seems beautiful anymore, and the only thing I really wanted was beauty.
Last night I went to see "Fame", the musical, with Diana. I liked it more than the production I saw in London. I remembered once again how much I love acting and singing and dancing, but of course I never did it for real, never seriously. I did want to be a Fame kid. To go to that kind of school, focused on arts. But it was only a dream and I rejected it and now I never seem to have the time.
I chose this life, more or less, and yet it feels so alien to me. What am I looking for? What is this quest I embarked in? I only catch glimpses of reality and magic, and then I have to go away. Everything is mainly grey. And I hate it.

TONGUE KISS

Once upon a time, in cold cold Canada, there was a birthday party. Someone named Kyle gave someone named Jeff many many "odd" presents, including a CD of a forgotten music legend, Dino. The CD was played and all the party goers were hypnotized by the tunes, specially a very profound piece called "Tongue Kiss", which was sung by Kyle, Jeff and Olga, in Jeff's bedroom, with some dancing and many laughs.



This morning this was my face when I read that Dino was actually giving us the solution to depression. According to English sexual therapists and other scientists, kissing is the best known cure for depression. And not just any kind of kissing. It has to be a French kiss... a tongue kiss, like Dino said.



So much time invested in therapies and pills... and all we really need to do is have fun, meet people, and kiss. Something to do with endorfines. Of course it makes sense. It actually explains why I felt good while being with people that I rationally didn't really like and why... well, it explains many whys.



So now I am doomed to depression, even more than before. After deciding that I am going to be pure and chaste, at least for a while, there is no real chance for me to get the sufficient amount of tongue-kissing adviced by Dino or the English experts. And I can't even find Dino's lyrics to pass on his wisdom... Life sucks, unless you are kissing someone.

CHILDREN OF THE 80s

Today is a friend's birthday (Happy Birthday Isaac!!!). I spent quite a long time this morning trying to find batteries for my camera, so I could post here one of the pictures that I took of him last Thursday (before my camera decided to commit suicide). No success. Instead I decided to blowdry my hair, a mystic experience that took me back a couple of decades. Then I put some excentric colour on my lips and spent the rest of the morning taking pictures of myself (see above) with the WebCam.

I used to hate the eighties. Bad hair, worse clothes, even worse music, and the very very worst films. And I had to be born in the middle of it. Just like my friends.

Now I have to run to the university, give back some books, run back home and study. And I know I can't. It was bad in Canada. I wrote my final essays the same that I was supposed to hand them in. I only studied about two hours for each exam I had (except Shakespeare, of course, I will keep that humiliation with me forever). I couldn't find any inspiration or energy for anything. My naivete led me to believe that things would be better once I was in Spain. That everything would change. Of course things do change, but apparently I don't. I hide under the blankets and wait for a sudden caress that doesn't come very often.

But things will be alright. Somehow. There's always the movies, the music, some friends, lots of sweets and the promise of new beginnings.

And now that silly game. So, if I have sent this, sorry, someone sent it to me too... You have to write 5 strange things that you usually do. And then send a message / comment / email /whatever to 5 friends so they read your answers and post theirs. Understood? Well, something like that anyway. So... my 5 strange things:

1- When I go to a theatre or some other closed space with lots of people where I have to stay in one place for a while I always look up to check what part of the ceiling would fall on me in case of an earthquake.

2- Whenever I go out I have my music with me and I daydream about dancing or singing those songs... which sometimes I do, in the middle of the street, and people stare at me.

3- Absolutely all my tights have at least one run on them. And I have absolutely no clue about how that happened... I wear them anyway (more people staring).

4- I eat kiwis with a tea spoon...

5- For the longest time, I really believed I was from another planet.

I WONDER WHO IS TO BLAME FOR LIFE

Unable to study Middle English I sit in my blue room and wait for something. The phone rings and my interview is postponed. Which means, that I still have some days to panic, to feel insecure, to fear what may or may not happen.
The scholarship money hasn't arrived yet. So I'm afraid that there is no Bremen for me this February. The workmen outside my window are painting my wall again. I think they have been doing it for over a week now. No matter how much paint they put in there, the cracks in the wall will always show.

SICK EYES

Once again I am sick. Spain doesn't agree with me too much. I don't really miss Canada anymore. I read that my friends are ice-skating and skiing and snowboarding. And I'd like to do that too. And of course I'd like to see them. But I am here. Until further notice. Not more optimistic than usual, not more pesimistic either. Exams begin soon and I think no one is ready. I have no money to fly to Germany to visit Elia. I can't go out because of my eyes, which force to stay under a blanket the whole day. There is something in me that refuses to learn Old English and makes turn away every time I read it. This Monday I have an interview which will decide my future. I hate interviews. I am very bad at them.
I am just waiting for spring to come. To be able to lie on the grass. Look at the clouds. Hide away my coat and the scarves and the hats. Go to Paris. Be even sillier than usual. Envy the birds and the trees and the flowers. I want to be innocent again. Clean and pure.

LET'S DREAM FOREVER MORE

Another morning passing by. No studying involved. I can't. I think about music and travelling and wonder where I'll be next autumn. I try to be interested in something, but can't seem to manage. And if someone asks if something happened, if there is something wrong, what can I answer? Yes, there is something wrong. I am alive and I am here and only music can reach through my barrier of self-delusion and sadness. I watch movies that tell me that there is hope. That there is beauty. That there is love. That there is understanding. But who am I kidding? There is nothing. And only the music can convey the stupidity, the utter despair, of it all.

JUST GIVE THEM MONEY

Almost ten... The workmen, shouting outside my window just as usual, have cut the water of the whole building... literally cut. Again I've spent the night only half asleep. I had to read some new adventures of the X-Men because my eyes wouldn't close. Now I listen to loud music, trying to ignore and drown the outside noises.
Yesterday, in USA History, I learnt something that disturbed me. The professor said that in the 19th century Indians were not considered American citizens, but rather domestic dependent nations. She said that the basis for being considered a citizen, that is, the requirement for having the basic human rights, being protected and constrained by laws, is to pay taxes. And apparently not only in the US, but virtually everywhere. Just being born a human being isn't apparently enough to be considered as one. Unless you are poor and thus exempted from paying, you are only a real person when you engage in money transactions with your government. Of course, later on, much distressed by this new view of the world, I asked what happened with those who evaded paying. Are they then not under the law? Not citizens? Without rights? The professor said that there is a special legislation for them, and that she had oversimplified the whole thing, and that as I had been away this semester of course I hadn't studied all the tax business that she had explained in class. But still... Our citizenship depends on money. And a person who doesn't pay is either a second-rate citizen or not a citizen at all. Why why why.
I hate it. I hate to depend on money to fulfill my dreams. I hate to depend on money to achieve something. I hate to depend on money to be considered a human being. What is wrong with us?
Yesterday I told Isaac about the theory I used to have when I was 10 or so, about my being an alien from Venus, sent here to save the Earth. Sometimes I still feel that I am an alien, but is there anything left to save?

UNIVERSAL FEELING

Alone in my room. My father and his friends listening to music somewhere near. It seems that there are universal feelings. We all go through similar experiences and nightmares. We all cry and we all die and we all want or don't want to die. We think that this the end, and then something else happens. We promise never to smile again, and then we do. We think we'll be happy forever, and then we realize we never really were. We all need someone. At least I believe we all do. I know I do. We all dream or have dreamt or will dream. And sometimes time disappears and sometimes space disappears and sometimes we ourselves disappear. We talk and we walk and we breath no matter what. And even though we feel empty and cold, void of hope and warmth, like the sun will never know our name, like we'll fall lower and lower with every step, like we are not alive at all, like there is no one and nothing and everything is a lie, we still close our eyes and then open them. The heart still beats. Our skin is still soft, more pink than blue. Circles are still round. Squares are still not. And somewhere there is life... although maybe we aren't part of it.


"Come around" by Rhett Miller

I'm dressed all in blue and I'm remembering you
And the dress you wore when you broke my heart
I'm depressed upstairs and I'm remembering where
And when and how and why'd you have to go so far

Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around so come around

I'm dressed all in white and I remember the night
You came on to me and opened up my heart
I was hollow then till you filled me in now I'm empty again
I should have never let it start

Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around so come around

No one else can fix me although sometimes my heart tricks me
Into thinking someone else will do
But you're the only one you are the only one

Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Am I gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
I'm gonna be lonely for the rest of my life
Unless you come around so come around
So come around so come around

I'm dressed all in blue and I'm remembering you
And the dress you wore when you broke my heart

THE UNGUARDED MOMENT

Gloomy morning. Suddenly feeling better because of Jack Johnson and his "Banana Pancakes". It brings good memories. I remembered today that I used to hate being in Ottawa. I wanted to come back back back to Europe, nice beautiful interesting old Europe. I had a very good last week and suddenly I want to return to Canada.
I am like a stranded kitty. Whenever someone is nice to me, I feel so surprised, that I immediately fall in love (or at least think so). But I always wander away, because cats are lonesome creatures. Will it be like this forever?

I JUST DON'T THINK I'LL EVER GET OVER YOU

Once again I write. Not sure about the date, not sure about my mind, about what I have to say, whom I am saying it for, why I suddenly write in English.
I listen to music, music that reminds of things I said I wasn't going to think about. Who am I trying to kid? I can't just let go. I close my eyes and picture myself in a different situation, with someone. I always need to have someone to fantasize about. Instead of living life, I hide in my illusions. I think I regret breaking up with Dario. I regret staying only one semester in Canada. I regret staying at home under a blanket. I regret spending all my money in things I don't need. I regret eating chocolate and ice-cream all the time to try and cheer up.
I want to write about something real. Be sincere for once. But there is nothing real or sincere about me. There is nothing about me at all.

STOP THINKING ABOUT...

1) Canada.
2) All the people still in Canada.
3) How beautiful it was.
4) The snow.
5) A couple of musicians.
6) Italy.
7) All the people in Italy.
8) All the people that I have left behind at any given time without saying properly how sorry I am... I am very sorry.
9) What might or might not be.
10) The pain in the past.
11) The pain in the future.
12) Solitude.
13) Idealized princes that do not exist.
14) Myself.
15) The scared girl in the mirror.
16) The scary girl in the mirror.
17) The voices.
18) The years.
19) Death.
20) The sex of angels and similar issues.
21) The end.