That's old, folks!

As some f you might already know, with great powers come great great responsibilities.

Wait... Where did I hear that before? Nevermind...

The great power I have recently discovered within me is the power of aging.

I mean, I knew since I was a kid we all get older and older, second by second, but my recent permanence in a country where the sun shines only if asked to by local authorities (sorry... I lived in a city there) showed me that it was actually happening.

When you are a child you check your height every day or so, because that's how you know you are growing closer to what you think will be dreamland, but that's pretty much the only time when you can get excited about aging. And you don't even know that it is!

Puberty: getting older means akward hair around your body, period, voice changes when you least expect, you have to wear bikini tops, you have to stop peeing at the side of just anything ( please, guys, really: that's when you have to stop peeing around... Just stop... Nobody likes a bragger).

Teenage years: feelings. Lots of feelings. Most of them of saddness and still too complex for you to either understand or put in words that aren't by the greatest band on the planet (don't worry: we all have a psychology major roommate at some point... He/she will have books on that).

And now ADULTHOOD: easy easy easy... White hair are coming.

This brings me to my first encounter with serious white hair.

Of course I had some already in my 20s, but you really had to go looking for them!

Now they bravely stand right above my forhead. Those bastards.

And they are some of the new hair growing after the cure! What the fuck!

I blame it all on pollution and 4 month of lack of clean air and natural light. And stress perhaps. 

And aging, that is definetly one of the causes for my white hair.

And what about those responsibilities?

Now I will have to be a guide to the youths, a lighthouse on their way back to humanity, the light all along the tunnel, the owl of their nights.

And I'll have to start cooking fattening meals for them. 

But when I look around and I see the beauty surrounding me on this amazing planet (hey, it's been putting up with our shit for quite a while, that is pretty amazing) and I think how old it is and how much it has seen and heard and I can't help but think: "Why wouldn't you do for us what is expected from us??" 

Selfish Earth... Dropping hints... Start speaking already!

Love you, you silly!

And that is step 4: now I am senile.

What was I talking about?

On unrequited love

Every single one of us has fallen, if not many times like myself, at least once in love with someone who didn’t reciprocate or (yes, sadly enough) with someone who never knew.

It isn’t anyone’s prerogative nor my exclusive, we have all had that experience. And if you are shaking your head and thinking you didn’t well… you are a big fat liar.

It might have been that guy a few years ahead of you in school, your best friend’s band mate, your friend’s drinking buddy, your teacher, your neighbour… You see where I’m going with this, right?
But how do we stop it? How can we prevent ourselves from falling for who hasn’t fallen for us…
We can’t.

We are bound to repeat ourselves over and over until we find someone who would break the circle…
He (or she depending on what’s your fancy) has to be patient and be really really really really into you, because nobody else would bother to stick around.

I will give you the piece of advice I have been given by those around me who love me: give up.

Or, better, give IN.

Stop trying to analyse it, don’t compare yourself, don’t wait around for the next person to be with him/her just to be able to justify your actions with yourself ( “See? It wasn’t meant to be… He found someone else and she deserves him more”).
And if “being yourself” is what led you here, go be someone new.


Now… How do I follow my own advice? Any advices?



"But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space! Yes, you are looking at one such individual. And I have willingly loved that man for over three miserable years! The absolute worst years of my life! The worst Christmas', the worst Birthday's, New Years Eve's brought in by tears and valium. These years that I have been in love have been the darkest days of my life. All because I've been cursed by being in love with a man who does not and will not love me back. Oh god, just the sight of him! Heart pounding! Throat thickening! Absolutely can't swallow! All the usual symptoms. I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you." (The Holiday)

A Fall love letter

I love having shorter days.

I love cups of tea.

I love new seasons of tv shows waiting just around the corner.

So why on Earth is this bloody fall going so wrong??

Smells like fall and clouds are here allright but still feels like crap.

I'll leave aside all the crap that has been going on lately and my persona, subjective, considerations and just say this: What The Fuck?

It's too hot to breath but not sunny (or safe) enough to go to the beach, all the mosquitos that hadn't shown up the whole summer are coming by for some terrible convention on my skin and old people are back in their speedos.

This is very very VERY wrong people. 

An intervention is needed.

The truth about August

This is the sound of my soul... And she' not happy.

90% of regular people, at least here in Italy, spend the whole year waiting for these 31 days: the holy month of August.

It's holiday season, it's summer, it's empty cities and bikinis, it's sunshine and midnight dips in the sea, it's big drinks and small tents.

It's a pain in the ass.

If you have to chose a month to go visit a large city this is the right time, that would be a clever choice as none of its inhabitants and their cars will be there.

But please, please, don't come to the coast.

I love June, July and September campers and I can even tollerate those psychos that come by in May, but oh (oh) those August morons.

Well, I should say firstly that not all are moron. Just the thin 95% of them are.

People that go on holiday on August are those who work usually corporate jobs or in factories so they spend the whole year under someone else: not low enough to be humble and not high enough to afford manners. Just regular dicks.

They live taking orders and silently executing them. They go to bed every night saying to themselves "one of these days..." and never actually stand up for their rights.

They call their working place "my company" "my agency" as if by using an incorrect possesive they can gain a bit of their bosses' wealth or rank.

When they go on holiday they finnaly find someone that, they think, is underneath them: the emplyees of their resort/bar/restaurant/hotel/whore-house or wherever else they decide to go.

But, you see, not 1€ of your money is worth dignity: not mine that you are trying to rip into pieces nor yours that you obviously forgot at home.

This is why rude people never really upset me: the pump my ego showing me what I'm not.

The truth about August is really simple: it sucks, so if you can avvoid it.

It's too hot and crowded shores, long lines and high prices, it's traffic and no AC, it's hot tempers and dead cold brains, black-outs and cold showers.

An open letter to a random costumer

Dear you,

You know who you are. You are all of those people that crossed mine and other people professional lives. 

See? You know I am talking to you!

I simply love the way you come by everymoring smelling like there's no tomorrow, like you paked so fast your 30kilos trolley (that I personally had the pleasure to lift over my shoulder) that there just was no time to fatch a toothbrush and the nearest supermarket is meters and meters away...

I like coming into work smelling you around the corner only a few half hours before opening time, don't you give my personal care a moral slap in the face!

You are always so thoughtful and give me reasons to master the art of pondering posing the best questions ever! 

Why are there clouds in the sky? What do I mean by "rental"? Am I sure I read that correctly? Are there spiders around that area?

You have so many of these!

And you are cute too when you ask not to pay for something because, I mean, obviously, it's YOU!

How great are you when you come by right after I am done closing the office to ask me how does some service, which you are not planning to buy, works?

You make me wish I was better, you make me wish I was healthier (no worries, I'm sure this brand new gastritis is from the terrible food our restaurant is serving you) but mainly you make me wish I was wealthier so I could return the favour and come visit you in your work place.

I'm sure you processing company is open 24/7! I'd like to know about all of the accounts your bank has to offer with a prospect on a 10 years plan from all of them, would you mind? And could you please send someone to take a look at a dot I think I've seen, maybe you can come, afterall you are an eye doctor.

Most most most of all you make me wish everyday was my last day on the job so I could give you not only the answers you need but also those you deserve.

Keep saving your goodmornings for people at your level, the working class isn't worthy of them.

P.s.

It would have been too easy to write about all of those great persons that I meet everyday, but we all know that only complainers write on Tripadvisor, so I've followed their lead...

The sound of creepiness

Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk to you again because a vision softly creeping left its disgusting slimy presence while I was drinking.

I said before, I think, that I am all for bald guys so just imagine how thrilled I was having a nice, age appropriate, blue eyes, tatooed one hitting on me at the bar the other night.

Usually I disapprove of pick ups in bars but, hey I'm 30 and who are you to judge my dispare! 

So I kind of let him talk and have some of his drink and the usual PG13 flirting routine but, as I still have some, very little but some, self respect I just couldn't go on as I saw where it was going and that ended with me declaring that the true reason why I was still single is my bad bad character.

Also, let us all remember this is my work place and some decorum is in order.

But, man, he is so cute!

Oh, yes, I forgot to. Ention he was pissing drunk, he touched my ass and he went on to screw the next girl that came by.

So, once again it was just my luck.

I lost my chance at drunk sex (and we all know how well that goes) and perhaps some nice and vintage venereal diseases... 

Ask me why in 2014 the first world is still battling AIDS!

People talking without speaking, people having sex without using condoms...

Mad mad world

All around me are familiar faces

Worn out places

Worn out faces

Bright and early for their daily races

Going nowhere

Going nowhere...

I sincerely hope you all got the 1982 classic Tears for Fear refference...

If you haven't, well, shame on you!

All this brings us to our topic today: old days coming back to stare at us in the face.

I went to a newrby town the other evening with my family and some friends of theirs as my mom's birthday just happened to be on the same day there was some kind of local fair there and we killed two birds with one stone.

In small realities like ours most kids have to move around for school, sports, to see friends, to party... You know, the usual teenage stuff.

So that was the way I went through my youth, having fun and talking to basically anyone who'd come around.

I went to this fair I looked around and I saw so many of those former "familiar faces" walking by and I realized I didn't know them anymore.

None said hello and none felt like any hello should be said.

Strange, uh?

Dynamics of social life