Saturday, December 05, 2009
"The Law of Love" moving us to action...
http://www.saintjameswestminster.ca/sermons/090201.pdf
It's Saturday afternoon and I'm home alone...DANCE PARTY! Err...I mean, I need to clean the bathroom, iron a mountain of clothes and vacuum. BUT, before I accomplish the impossible at home today, I'm relaxing and reading.
I'd love to be able to take a drive with my Mum on Sunday morning to London to visit St. James and take part in the service... alas, Cosenza is a bit far for that and so, I'm reading a few of Father Ken's sermons online in PDF format...yay for Father Ken and technology!
I'm reading "Serendipities and surprises" and thinking about how we all have those days where we get a piece of news and are unsure whether it's positive or negative and so, in a state of fear, we panic and feel like a mega death bomb is being dropped on our happy little bubble...obviously, yes, I am talking about myself. Instead, if we attempt for a moment to be rational, we can live the serendipities of life as the unexpected blessings that they are.
http://www.saintjameswestminster.ca/sermons/090510.pdf
Monday, November 30, 2009
Go freaking figure that when I lived in Gainesville, Florida...I lived on the only side of Gainesville where you have to go UP A HILL in order to get to the University on foot.
UP A HILL.
I taught EVERYDAY for 50 minutes.
That means, take the bus...if you have the patience to wait for it, or WALK UP A HILL IN 50 degree weather!!!!
WTF?
I walked. often. cutting through the hospital for temporary relief (air-conditioning)...before trudging up the hill and arriving at class sweaty and disgusting.
In order to mentally prepare, I filled my Ipod with songs that INSPIRE one to walk up a hill in such conditions...and, often, there was a SONG OF THE HILL...sort of like a song for the day.
This is my SONG OF THE HILL for today. I miss you too Joy and Alberto.
U2
Where the streets have no name
I wanna run
I want to hide
I wanna tear down the walls
That hold me inside
I wanna reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name
Ha...ha...ha...
I want to feel
Sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear
Without a trace
I want to take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Ho...ha...
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
The city's aflood
And our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust
I'll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
Our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, and I see our love
See our love turn to rust
Oh, we're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
UP A HILL.
I taught EVERYDAY for 50 minutes.
That means, take the bus...if you have the patience to wait for it, or WALK UP A HILL IN 50 degree weather!!!!
WTF?
I walked. often. cutting through the hospital for temporary relief (air-conditioning)...before trudging up the hill and arriving at class sweaty and disgusting.
In order to mentally prepare, I filled my Ipod with songs that INSPIRE one to walk up a hill in such conditions...and, often, there was a SONG OF THE HILL...sort of like a song for the day.
This is my SONG OF THE HILL for today. I miss you too Joy and Alberto.
U2
Where the streets have no name
I wanna run
I want to hide
I wanna tear down the walls
That hold me inside
I wanna reach out
And touch the flame
Where the streets have no name
Ha...ha...ha...
I want to feel
Sunlight on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear
Without a trace
I want to take shelter from the poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Ho...ha...
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
The city's aflood
And our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled in dust
I'll show you a place
High on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
We're still building
Then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
Our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, and I see our love
See our love turn to rust
Oh, we're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind
Oh, when I go there
I go there with you
It's all I can do
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Monday, November 02, 2009
It felt so good to be home, see my Mum, walk around...and I got my little Canadian flag so I can march around at home in Italy.
Enrico and I have paraded around the house twice already...he just needs to improve his OH Canada anthem.
MUM,
Dr. Asher will not approve of these stitches...sorry, but you have to show him.
Love
Kate
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Hey Joy and Alberto,
Remember when our Dove chocolates used to tell us what to do with our days/months/lives (they had the little saying on the bottom of the wrapper)??!!!
NOW MY TEA BISCOTTI WRAPPERS ARE TELLING ME THINGS!!!! But I must admit, they are pleasant things...on the contrary to the Dove wrappers which would sometimes say "TAKE A BUBBLE BATH TODAY"...screw you Dove...I don't feel like a bubble bath! jk.
So, today my biscotti wrapper said:
Ricordi la magia di quel giorno
accaduto per caso,
perfetto come la nostalgia
che ancora ne provo.
loosely translated with my excellent knowledge of Italian, hahaha:
Remember the magic of that day
which happened by chance,
perfect as its nostalgia
which I still feel.
Let's see what the next wrapper says...
Remember when our Dove chocolates used to tell us what to do with our days/months/lives (they had the little saying on the bottom of the wrapper)??!!!
NOW MY TEA BISCOTTI WRAPPERS ARE TELLING ME THINGS!!!! But I must admit, they are pleasant things...on the contrary to the Dove wrappers which would sometimes say "TAKE A BUBBLE BATH TODAY"...screw you Dove...I don't feel like a bubble bath! jk.
So, today my biscotti wrapper said:
Ricordi la magia di quel giorno
accaduto per caso,
perfetto come la nostalgia
che ancora ne provo.
loosely translated with my excellent knowledge of Italian, hahaha:
Remember the magic of that day
which happened by chance,
perfect as its nostalgia
which I still feel.
Let's see what the next wrapper says...
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Ok, I'm not going to lie, I'm very interested in knowing more about Michael Ignatieff. I need to know more...yes, he's been out of the country for a considerable amount of time, but the gain from that time abroad has my eyes and ears open to learn more about the leader of the Liberal party...
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/we-can-do-better-liberals-declare/article1273297/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Ignatieff
"In The Rights Revolution, Ignatieff identifies three aspects of Canada's approach to human rights that give the country its distinctive culture: 1) On moral issues, Canadian law is secular and liberal, approximating European standards more closely than American ones; 2) Canadian political culture is socially democratic, and Canadians take it for granted that citizens have the right to free health care and public assistance; 3) Canadians place a particular emphasis on group rights, expressed in Quebec's language laws and in treaty agreements that recognize collective aboriginal rights. "Apart from New Zealand, no other country has given such recognition to the idea of group rights," he writes.[21]
Ignatieff states that despite its admirable commitment to equality and group rights, Canadian society still places an unjust burden on women and gays and lesbians, and he says it is still difficult for newcomers of non-British or French descent to form an enduring sense of citizenship. Ignatieff attributes this to the "patch-work quilt of distinctive societies," emphasizing that civic bonds will only be easier when the understanding of Canada as a multinational community is more widely shared."
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/we-can-do-better-liberals-declare/article1273297/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Ignatieff
"In The Rights Revolution, Ignatieff identifies three aspects of Canada's approach to human rights that give the country its distinctive culture: 1) On moral issues, Canadian law is secular and liberal, approximating European standards more closely than American ones; 2) Canadian political culture is socially democratic, and Canadians take it for granted that citizens have the right to free health care and public assistance; 3) Canadians place a particular emphasis on group rights, expressed in Quebec's language laws and in treaty agreements that recognize collective aboriginal rights. "Apart from New Zealand, no other country has given such recognition to the idea of group rights," he writes.[21]
Ignatieff states that despite its admirable commitment to equality and group rights, Canadian society still places an unjust burden on women and gays and lesbians, and he says it is still difficult for newcomers of non-British or French descent to form an enduring sense of citizenship. Ignatieff attributes this to the "patch-work quilt of distinctive societies," emphasizing that civic bonds will only be easier when the understanding of Canada as a multinational community is more widely shared."
Friday, August 28, 2009
Sicily.
Finally. Ten years of waiting.
The cities:
Palermo: dark streets, kind people (our friend Samuele showed us around...A plus for Samuele...and by the way, the corpse is from the Cappuccini catacombs...a little morbid but very interesting), fried foods, a cultural vucciria (confusion...in a good way)...I absolutely loved this city and its chaos.
Agrigento: Beautiful ruins, home of Pirandello, gorgeous alabaster sea steps, and a very nice bed and breakfast called "Arco Ubriaco".
Catania: Culture, history and a touch of Granada, Nicaragua at lunch time when there is no one out on the streets...
Taormina: a wild, little cliff-top town...full of designer stores and precious side streets...packed with people...so much to look at all the time that it was mildly overwhelming.
I love love love Sicily.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
A bit slow, perhaps un poco melancolica...pero me gusta mucho el sonido...
http://www.musicroom.it/articolo/neffa-testo-di-lontano-dal-tuo-sole/6757/
Lontano dal tuo sole
di Neffa
Sono pronto per rialzarmi ancora,
e il momento che aspettavo è ora
nonostante questo cielo sembri chiuso su di me
nessuno mi vede
nessuno mi sente,
ma non per questo io non rido più.
Io son qui in un mondo che ormai
gira intorno a vuoto
lontano dal tuo sole
e piove, ma io qualche cosa farò
per sentire ancora
tutto il calore che ora non ho
e avere un po’ di pace che ora non ho
e luce nei miei occhi che ora non ho
una direzione giusta che ora non ho
…che ora non ho
Sulla strada
troppe stelle spente
la tua mano ora servirebbe
troppa gente alza il dito
e poi lo punta su di me.
Nessuno mi crede, davvero innocente,
ma non per questo io non vivo più.
Io sono qui in un mondo che ormai
gira intorno a vuoto
lontano dal tuo sole,
e piove mai io qualche cosa farò
per sentire ancora
tutto il calore che ora non ho
e avere un po’ di pace
che ora non ho
e luce nei miei occhi
che ora non ho
una direzione giusta
che ora non ho
E avere un po’ di pace
che ora non ho
e luce nei miei occhi
che ora non ho
una direzione giusta
che ora non ho
http://www.musicroom.it/articolo/neffa-testo-di-lontano-dal-tuo-sole/6757/
Lontano dal tuo sole
di Neffa
Sono pronto per rialzarmi ancora,
e il momento che aspettavo è ora
nonostante questo cielo sembri chiuso su di me
nessuno mi vede
nessuno mi sente,
ma non per questo io non rido più.
Io son qui in un mondo che ormai
gira intorno a vuoto
lontano dal tuo sole
e piove, ma io qualche cosa farò
per sentire ancora
tutto il calore che ora non ho
e avere un po’ di pace che ora non ho
e luce nei miei occhi che ora non ho
una direzione giusta che ora non ho
…che ora non ho
Sulla strada
troppe stelle spente
la tua mano ora servirebbe
troppa gente alza il dito
e poi lo punta su di me.
Nessuno mi crede, davvero innocente,
ma non per questo io non vivo più.
Io sono qui in un mondo che ormai
gira intorno a vuoto
lontano dal tuo sole,
e piove mai io qualche cosa farò
per sentire ancora
tutto il calore che ora non ho
e avere un po’ di pace
che ora non ho
e luce nei miei occhi
che ora non ho
una direzione giusta
che ora non ho
E avere un po’ di pace
che ora non ho
e luce nei miei occhi
che ora non ho
una direzione giusta
che ora non ho
Saturday, August 08, 2009
I've got a friend.
I met her at the lunch table my first day of University.
I was that annoying girl asking her seven thousand questions. Lucky for me, she didn't mind and we started a friendship that I'm pretty sure will last longer than our teeth will hold out.
She's something quite extraordinary...everybody says that about their friends, but I mean it. Some of the most interesting and memorable conversations I've ever had have been with her.
I'm not going to lie that I would love to pull up a chair with Kafka and chat for hours, but it would be a thousand times better if my friend were also there to teach Kafka a thing or two. Surely they'd become friends.
Just about the only thing she isn't good at is putting up curtains...although she is a fiiiiiine Macgyver with duct tape.
Her Dad passed away on Sunday.
I never had the opportunity to meet him due to distance and lack of funds...
but I know a fair amount about him, and I also know how much my friend cared, respected and loved her Dad.
She read me his eulogy yesterday. I could perfectly imagine him through her words. Exactly the same individual she had been telling me about for the past 9 years.
This woman is solid, but her father was her rock.
I remember calling her once a few years ago, worried because I hadn't been able to reach her for 2 or 3 days...she said, oh, I had a minor operation at the hospital. WHAT? I said. Yeah, no worries. she responded. HOW DID YOU GET HOME??? I drove, she told me, non-chalant her tone. YOU ARE A MANIAC.
That's her.
Spitting image of her father, I believe.
She once told me she was thinking about quitting her phD and becoming a DJ...and she could do it, but, she would hold out and complete her studies, make her Dad proud since he had impressed upon her the importance that her education would have.
I'm worried about you.
I've never seen you in a situation that you couldn't handle.
I didn't want to be the one on the telephone hearing you say, I don't know what I'm going to do.
If you don't know, who the hell else can know...you are the only one I know who seems to make sense out of everything and anything.
So, I think this is the one moment.
I hope you heard me.
What I said to you.
This is your time. You get to have all the support around you. You don't have to worry about helping anyone else right now...you get to grieve the loss of your father for as long as you need. You don't have to answer to anyone.
I hope you reflect and think about that life that has been an important part of your own. Think about your Dad, and think about yourself.
And when in doubt, flustered, surrounded by the buzz of useless chatter...hit a pub and have a guiness, cheers your Dad and breathe...look at the sea and relax...go to where you feel best.
when you're ready, think about that home that you associate with your Dad, and think...is that home tied to a physical location...will maintaining that physical location mean the maintenance of a place of solace or is it just the site of memories that are better preserved in your mind.
Nobody is going to pressure you into anything because you aren't going to let them.
I heard the same person on the phone yesterday as the person I met 9 years ago...a few more titles added after the name, but the same person.
I don't think you really need it, but I sure wish I could be there to stand with you.
I met her at the lunch table my first day of University.
I was that annoying girl asking her seven thousand questions. Lucky for me, she didn't mind and we started a friendship that I'm pretty sure will last longer than our teeth will hold out.
She's something quite extraordinary...everybody says that about their friends, but I mean it. Some of the most interesting and memorable conversations I've ever had have been with her.
I'm not going to lie that I would love to pull up a chair with Kafka and chat for hours, but it would be a thousand times better if my friend were also there to teach Kafka a thing or two. Surely they'd become friends.
Just about the only thing she isn't good at is putting up curtains...although she is a fiiiiiine Macgyver with duct tape.
Her Dad passed away on Sunday.
I never had the opportunity to meet him due to distance and lack of funds...
but I know a fair amount about him, and I also know how much my friend cared, respected and loved her Dad.
She read me his eulogy yesterday. I could perfectly imagine him through her words. Exactly the same individual she had been telling me about for the past 9 years.
This woman is solid, but her father was her rock.
I remember calling her once a few years ago, worried because I hadn't been able to reach her for 2 or 3 days...she said, oh, I had a minor operation at the hospital. WHAT? I said. Yeah, no worries. she responded. HOW DID YOU GET HOME??? I drove, she told me, non-chalant her tone. YOU ARE A MANIAC.
That's her.
Spitting image of her father, I believe.
She once told me she was thinking about quitting her phD and becoming a DJ...and she could do it, but, she would hold out and complete her studies, make her Dad proud since he had impressed upon her the importance that her education would have.
I'm worried about you.
I've never seen you in a situation that you couldn't handle.
I didn't want to be the one on the telephone hearing you say, I don't know what I'm going to do.
If you don't know, who the hell else can know...you are the only one I know who seems to make sense out of everything and anything.
So, I think this is the one moment.
I hope you heard me.
What I said to you.
This is your time. You get to have all the support around you. You don't have to worry about helping anyone else right now...you get to grieve the loss of your father for as long as you need. You don't have to answer to anyone.
I hope you reflect and think about that life that has been an important part of your own. Think about your Dad, and think about yourself.
And when in doubt, flustered, surrounded by the buzz of useless chatter...hit a pub and have a guiness, cheers your Dad and breathe...look at the sea and relax...go to where you feel best.
when you're ready, think about that home that you associate with your Dad, and think...is that home tied to a physical location...will maintaining that physical location mean the maintenance of a place of solace or is it just the site of memories that are better preserved in your mind.
Nobody is going to pressure you into anything because you aren't going to let them.
I heard the same person on the phone yesterday as the person I met 9 years ago...a few more titles added after the name, but the same person.
I don't think you really need it, but I sure wish I could be there to stand with you.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
So the 'Preside' says to me today, here, in Italy, you are in a maternal society whereas you are used to a paternal society...
hmm.
I'm in one and from another...
this equals problems.
I was in shock after my meeting today...
Il codice materno sembra privilegiare la soddisfazione sollecita del bisogno, in modalità anche sacrificali; si caratterizza per la valorizzazione di comportamenti che privilegiano l'appartenenza, oltre alla risposta ai bisogni, orientando verso l'onnipotenza e l'appropriazione.
… il codice materno è fondamentalmente autarchico. Nella relazione di allattamento il bambino prolunga la situazione intrauterina sostituendo il capezzolo al cordone ombelicale. Il bambino è cioè un'appartenenza interna della madre che è diventata esterna, e che può suggerire la fantasia dell'autosufficienza di un sistema autonomo che non ha bisogno di ricevere apporti dall'esterno: un sistema onnipotente… ha la funzione di generare al bambino l'illusione di onnipotenza.
La potenza generativa del padre sembra assorbirsi nella sola potenza generativa della madre; ecco perché, durante la gravidanza, ogni marito diviene un po' un San Giuseppe, un cavaliere inesistente. Nel rispondere ai bisogni, si nota quel atteggiamento di sacrificalità tipico della funzione materna (dare tutto senza volere niente in cambio) che tende a trasformarsi in dominio sia sul bambino che sul partner. Questo non è affatto una svalutazione del codice: al contrario, il codice materno è estremamente importante, affettivamente, per la crescita del bambino, come osserva Corinna Cristiani:
Fornari dice che il codice materno è come l'acqua: senza l'acqua la terra non darebbe frutti, senza codice materno nessun neonato umano potrebbe sopravvivere. Ma come l'acqua diventa oltre un certo limite inondante e distruttiva, così accade anche per il codice materno.
L'evento simbolico a carattere universale che caratterizza l'uomo è rappresentato dalla vita prenatale e dal parto; la violenza insita del parto occorre sia esportata all'esterno del rapporto tra madre e bambino, per rendere possibile l'instaurarsi del codice materno, e questo compito viene svolto dal padre, la cui funzione è quella di "ammortizzatore e mallevadore dei pericoli che minacciano la nascita del figlio dell'uomo" (Franco Fornari). Il padre assume così una parte violenta che in realtà non è sua, che appartiene alla relazione naturale madre-bambino, per permettere l'instaurarsi positivo del regno della madre. Il nome assegnato a questo processo è quello di paranoia primaria. Tutti i fantasmi sono conseguenze del fantasma originario, ossia della vita prenatale e del parto; essi sono gli eventi centrali per la vita affettiva, essi costituiscono la rappresentazione dell'anima come prima realizzazione degli affetti, la situazione perduta per eccellenza. La nascita degli affetti non sono altro che il prolungamento di quella vita intrauterina che ci è stata negata dall'evoluzione quando, attraverso la posizione eretta, si è verificata il contemporaneo restringimento del bacino e l'ampliamento delle dimensioni del cranio per lo sviluppo dell'intelligenza; i significanti originari degli affetti, perduti nel parto-nascita, trovano così una seconda saturazione nelle relazioni familiari, per poi rendersi disponibili per nuove relazioni.
VERSUS
Il codice paterno prescrive la separazione del figlio dalla madre e la sua crescita in nome della genitalità; esso valorizza le capacità e la prestazione, l'efficienza e l'autonomia, l'indipendenza nella crescita, per Franco Fornari
privilegiamento del principio di realtà e di prestazione… favorendo così sia la progressiva e graduale separazione del figlio dalla madre prima e dalla famiglia poi, sia la sua introduzione nella società più ampia... Contrapposto al codice materno come autocentrico, il codice paterno si costituisce come fondamentalmente eterocentrico, e porta la famiglia ad aprirsi verso l'esterno… Il codice paterno rompe… tale simbiosi autarchica e rivela il carattere illusorio dell'onnipotenza che la sostiene… elabora fondamentalmente, nel soggetto, la propria mancanza di essere orientandola verso l'esterno, in un altro essere, preoccupato della creazione di aggregati sempre più vasti.
hmm.
I'm in one and from another...
this equals problems.
I was in shock after my meeting today...
Il codice materno sembra privilegiare la soddisfazione sollecita del bisogno, in modalità anche sacrificali; si caratterizza per la valorizzazione di comportamenti che privilegiano l'appartenenza, oltre alla risposta ai bisogni, orientando verso l'onnipotenza e l'appropriazione.
… il codice materno è fondamentalmente autarchico. Nella relazione di allattamento il bambino prolunga la situazione intrauterina sostituendo il capezzolo al cordone ombelicale. Il bambino è cioè un'appartenenza interna della madre che è diventata esterna, e che può suggerire la fantasia dell'autosufficienza di un sistema autonomo che non ha bisogno di ricevere apporti dall'esterno: un sistema onnipotente… ha la funzione di generare al bambino l'illusione di onnipotenza.
La potenza generativa del padre sembra assorbirsi nella sola potenza generativa della madre; ecco perché, durante la gravidanza, ogni marito diviene un po' un San Giuseppe, un cavaliere inesistente. Nel rispondere ai bisogni, si nota quel atteggiamento di sacrificalità tipico della funzione materna (dare tutto senza volere niente in cambio) che tende a trasformarsi in dominio sia sul bambino che sul partner. Questo non è affatto una svalutazione del codice: al contrario, il codice materno è estremamente importante, affettivamente, per la crescita del bambino, come osserva Corinna Cristiani:
Fornari dice che il codice materno è come l'acqua: senza l'acqua la terra non darebbe frutti, senza codice materno nessun neonato umano potrebbe sopravvivere. Ma come l'acqua diventa oltre un certo limite inondante e distruttiva, così accade anche per il codice materno.
L'evento simbolico a carattere universale che caratterizza l'uomo è rappresentato dalla vita prenatale e dal parto; la violenza insita del parto occorre sia esportata all'esterno del rapporto tra madre e bambino, per rendere possibile l'instaurarsi del codice materno, e questo compito viene svolto dal padre, la cui funzione è quella di "ammortizzatore e mallevadore dei pericoli che minacciano la nascita del figlio dell'uomo" (Franco Fornari). Il padre assume così una parte violenta che in realtà non è sua, che appartiene alla relazione naturale madre-bambino, per permettere l'instaurarsi positivo del regno della madre. Il nome assegnato a questo processo è quello di paranoia primaria. Tutti i fantasmi sono conseguenze del fantasma originario, ossia della vita prenatale e del parto; essi sono gli eventi centrali per la vita affettiva, essi costituiscono la rappresentazione dell'anima come prima realizzazione degli affetti, la situazione perduta per eccellenza. La nascita degli affetti non sono altro che il prolungamento di quella vita intrauterina che ci è stata negata dall'evoluzione quando, attraverso la posizione eretta, si è verificata il contemporaneo restringimento del bacino e l'ampliamento delle dimensioni del cranio per lo sviluppo dell'intelligenza; i significanti originari degli affetti, perduti nel parto-nascita, trovano così una seconda saturazione nelle relazioni familiari, per poi rendersi disponibili per nuove relazioni.
VERSUS
Il codice paterno prescrive la separazione del figlio dalla madre e la sua crescita in nome della genitalità; esso valorizza le capacità e la prestazione, l'efficienza e l'autonomia, l'indipendenza nella crescita, per Franco Fornari
privilegiamento del principio di realtà e di prestazione… favorendo così sia la progressiva e graduale separazione del figlio dalla madre prima e dalla famiglia poi, sia la sua introduzione nella società più ampia... Contrapposto al codice materno come autocentrico, il codice paterno si costituisce come fondamentalmente eterocentrico, e porta la famiglia ad aprirsi verso l'esterno… Il codice paterno rompe… tale simbiosi autarchica e rivela il carattere illusorio dell'onnipotenza che la sostiene… elabora fondamentalmente, nel soggetto, la propria mancanza di essere orientandola verso l'esterno, in un altro essere, preoccupato della creazione di aggregati sempre più vasti.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Two memories:
One.
After every night shift that my Mum worked...as soon as she got home in the morning, she would come to my room, open the door, check on me, and then go to sleep.
I would always wake-up at this moment and be glad she was checking on me...she did this even when I was 18...hahaha. so sweet. Mothers.
Two.
Tell me a story
tell me a story
you promised me
you said you would
you gotta give in
so i'll be good
tell me a story
and then
i'll
go
to
bed.
My Dad used to sing this to me when i would beg to read another story before bed...
i loved reading bedtime stories with my Dad.
One.
After every night shift that my Mum worked...as soon as she got home in the morning, she would come to my room, open the door, check on me, and then go to sleep.
I would always wake-up at this moment and be glad she was checking on me...she did this even when I was 18...hahaha. so sweet. Mothers.
Two.
Tell me a story
tell me a story
you promised me
you said you would
you gotta give in
so i'll be good
tell me a story
and then
i'll
go
to
bed.
My Dad used to sing this to me when i would beg to read another story before bed...
i loved reading bedtime stories with my Dad.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
When I moved to the US for my studies, little did I know that the American people would actually RE-ELECT Bush. Then, while I was in the US, the Canadian elections took place and my one vote was unable to save the Liberals from a Conservative win.
Bush in the US.
Harper in Canada.
great.
Now, I live in Italy and surprise, surprise...Berlusconi is the leader.
How is it possible?
This being said, the Democratic win in the US will hopefully be a beacon of light for that nation...and perhaps Canadians will find themselves looking inward and start questioning whether or not the Harper-way reflects the socialist heart of Canada.
As for Italy...such a beautiful place, such wonderful and intelligent people...so much to improve here and yet...this is nearly impossible with Berlusconi in power...wait, elected into power.
Will the Italian nation wake-up and realise that Berlusconi has no place in Italian politics? He doesn't help the poor, he doesn't help the wealthy (?), he certainly doesn't help the average Italian...so, how is he still in power?
The Italian people are subjecting themselves to Berlusconi's rule as they continue to allow Berlusconi and his party members to be elected and re-elected.
Please, wake-up...disapprove, with your voices, with your actions...with your votes.
"Ahora veo, como en una pesadilla, que los italianos, que a mí me habían otorgado el placer de la libertad de información y expresión, tienen que leer EL PAÍS para poder saber las desvergüenzas cometidas por su Cavaliere. ¿Dónde quedó aquella Italia a la que el mundo amaba y admiraba?"
Juan Arias
El Pais
15/06/2009
http://www.elpais.com/articulo/opinion/triste/Italia/elpepiopi/20090615elpepiopi_13/Tes
Bush in the US.
Harper in Canada.
great.
Now, I live in Italy and surprise, surprise...Berlusconi is the leader.
How is it possible?
This being said, the Democratic win in the US will hopefully be a beacon of light for that nation...and perhaps Canadians will find themselves looking inward and start questioning whether or not the Harper-way reflects the socialist heart of Canada.
As for Italy...such a beautiful place, such wonderful and intelligent people...so much to improve here and yet...this is nearly impossible with Berlusconi in power...wait, elected into power.
Will the Italian nation wake-up and realise that Berlusconi has no place in Italian politics? He doesn't help the poor, he doesn't help the wealthy (?), he certainly doesn't help the average Italian...so, how is he still in power?
The Italian people are subjecting themselves to Berlusconi's rule as they continue to allow Berlusconi and his party members to be elected and re-elected.
Please, wake-up...disapprove, with your voices, with your actions...with your votes.
"Ahora veo, como en una pesadilla, que los italianos, que a mí me habían otorgado el placer de la libertad de información y expresión, tienen que leer EL PAÍS para poder saber las desvergüenzas cometidas por su Cavaliere. ¿Dónde quedó aquella Italia a la que el mundo amaba y admiraba?"
Juan Arias
El Pais
15/06/2009
http://www.elpais.com/articulo/opinion/triste/Italia/elpepiopi/20090615elpepiopi_13/Tes
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Time time time: vuela...
Me gustaria estar alli para veros crecer...hablaros todos los dias, bromear, correr por la casa, gritar, pelear...
Sois preciosos, de verdad. Mas orgullosa no podria ser.
Siempre estoy pensando en vosotros y espero poder ayudaros en la vida...ser un apoyo.
Troublemaker #1 and #2: os quiero tanto.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Mum, the Baby Gorilla, out and about in Cosenza...just waiting to take you on a tour!
In the photos you can see, the main theatre (or a part of it...baby gorilla preferred a close up, the best gelato place in the historic centre, one of the rivers, a view of the historic centre, and Enrico and I with Baby Gorilla).
MAMMA, vieni qua! (Mum, translated...MUM, COME HERE!)
Monday, April 27, 2009
At a staff meeting the other day, Sayuri nudges me and points at her notebook...I read the following:
Did you ever imagine that one day you'd be at a staff meeting, in ITALIAN?
...
ha. No Sayuri, I definitely did not.
The best part was when I had to ask a question, in Italian, in front of 25 people...and I got so nervous that I threw in a few verbs in Spanish. great fun.
Did you ever imagine that one day you'd be at a staff meeting, in ITALIAN?
...
ha. No Sayuri, I definitely did not.
The best part was when I had to ask a question, in Italian, in front of 25 people...and I got so nervous that I threw in a few verbs in Spanish. great fun.
Monday, April 20, 2009
I don’t remember specific locations or occasions of eating fig newton cookies, but I do remember being with my Dad and eating them until the trays were empty. Now, before this sounds too much like an advertisement for Fig Newton, let me state that not all kids like fig newton cookies. I mean, they’re made of figs! Most kids don’t even know what figs are in Canada (or at least I never knew what the fig Newton was made of…FIG, duh!).
My Dad use to say, and I paraphrase “Let me show you a trick”. He would then break the cookie nearly in half and then piece it back together. Seems like nothing special BUT the cookie actually looked like it had never been broken apart!!! This is really freaking unbelievable when you’re six. I think I thought fig Newton cookies really were magic until I was 16…17…errrr…whatever.
Italians spend hours enjoying lunch. Me and my Dad spent hours enjoying fig Newton cookies. Ah, the small joys of life.
I heart my Dad and fig newton cookies.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
The first couple of months that I lived in Atlanta, I was pretty much alone in the evening during the week after work, lonely and bored. I only knew Joy and Alberto and they lived 20 minutes away in Decatur. They weren't far...but we were all so busy getting used to our work schedules, new schools, work work work...that the weekends were the best times to visit until things calmed down at school.
When I would come home from work in the late afternoon/early evening, I would put on my running shoes and either go for a run or just walk around the neighbourhood.
In order to reach the 'Sandy Springs' neighbourhood, I had to first go OTP.
What does that mean, OTP?...let me explain: going 'Out of the perimeter' refers to the action of leaving the unofficial Atlanta city limits by crossing the highway that encircles the city called the 285...once you cross the 285, you are OTP or OUT OF THE PERIMETER, and on your way to the 'burbs. Most Atlantans highly discourage going OTP.
So, since I lived just inside the perimeter (in my Mexican 'hood, which I loved), I had to cross the 285 on foot into the lovely burby area of Sandy Springs.
The biggest danger was not being hit by an angry commuter arriving home after his 3 hour commute in the worst stop-and-go traffic you can find next to Los Angeles, but rather, the Chick-fil-A that was just down Roswell Road.
I ran almost everyday just so that I could enjoy the happiness that is the Chick-fil-A Chicken sandwich..........HEAVEN. JOY AND ALBERT I AM SO JEALOUS I WILL KILL YOU.
In anycase, I didn't know anyone other than Joy and Alberto, Stacy was still deciding whether or not to trust me enough to become my friend (naturally, I'm a bit scary and overwhelming at first) and Georgia had not yet whirl-winded into my life from the gymnasium (Oh sweet Buckeye Georgia from Ohio, mad love)...so, I walked.
I didn't want to sit in my cute little apartment doing nothing. I mean, I don't mind being alone, in fact I like my alone time, but sitting around is not for me...I am no couch potato...and I don't like working all night long...so, I walked.
What did I do on these walks? I went through stores, parks, by the cinema, to the grocery store, stopped in local bars for impromptu amateur guitar sing-alongs, read in Starbucks... anything...
The weather was great and I needed to be outside roaming around, not stuck in my apartment glued to the tv or looking at the walls (THEN AGAIN, I did have a pool)!!
I remember one of my first runs...I was heading out of my 'gated apartment complex' and just before I reached the gate I saw flashing lights: the police. They were arresting a man who had robbed a local store. Excellent. I felt very safe.
Every now and again I would ask myself...how did I end up here? Ah yes, school- Florida, Optional practical training for one year-Atlanta...I had turned down a position in Brooklynn, New York to be in Atlanta so, Police outside my gate actually wasn't so bad...was it?
I used to love taking the 20 minute drive over to Decatur to see Joy and Alberto. Often times we would sit around and watch tv together, do laundry (yes, sometimes I would bring my laundry all the way to Decatur and do it at Joy and Al's complex) and even stroll around Decatur. I always felt more at home in their home than in my apartment, like I was visiting family in another part of the city.
Now, Atlanta is the biggest city in the dirty south. It is a city mainly of transients. If you want to have a life in Atlanta, you've got to make it so you better get involved in SOMETHING!
I joined the Rotaract club, I found a co-ed soccer team (which led to a co-ed drinking team!), Stacy finally became my friend (my charm won her over hehehe), and I got settled into school and had more time to spend visiting with Joy and Alberto (my main reasons for moving to Atlanta, yes, it's true).
This proved to me that even in a strange transient city like Atlanta, if you are pro-active, you can have a meaningful existence...and a fun time...(if you are reading this and feeling very confused, the only thing I can say is that you have to spend some time in Atlanta to know what I'm talking about).
I remember the first time that Enrico and I spoke about Atlanta. We both commented the same thing...we felt suffocated there...not close enough to the water (in my case, the lake, in his the sea)...it does have the 'hoochee, but it just didn't cut it...regardless, for what it gave me, Atlanta was cool.
Ramble ramble ramble blah blah blah full stop.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
'Happy'...I was thinking about you just now. You touched my soul that October day in 2006 and I still feel it. I hope you are still travelling from group to group telling your story and sharing the rocks.
When Keisha gets a little older, I'll tell her your story too.
Are you where you want to be?
What do you have to do in order to be your happiest...
do you share?
do you listen to yourself?
are you too attached to things?
are you living life honestly?
do you have goals? are you reaching them?
can you smile everyday and mean it?
do you know how to 'pay it forward'?
Are you doing your personal best everyday knowing that it will always be worth it...
You're the best.
Be happy.
I love you.
'Dare you to move'
by Switchfoot
Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here
Everyone's here
Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before
Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened
Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape from yourself?
Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you to lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened
Today never happened before
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I wake up. Something is strange: the light in the room. I know this type of brightness. I run to the window and before I can realize that my mouth is moving, I say "HOLY SHIT, look at it!". Enrico wakes up and casually responds "Snow?", I snap back "YES! IT'S SNOWING!! BIG SNOWFLAKES EVERYWHERE!"
A snowball fight went down that day in the DEIS parking lot...unfortunately, I was out of practice. The battle scars run deep. I got a snowball in the ear (I mean SNOW IN MY EARDRUM). I did manage to nail Enrico in the thigh and soak through his pants...that was sweet. I need it to snow again. I MUST EXACT MY REVENGE.
In case anyone doubted it, I am Canadian...I can smell a snowy day before it happens. Enrico, you better hope it doesn't snow again...I am lifting weights and training to injure you with the fastest coldest snowball this side of the Atlantic.
*evil laughter*
Friday, January 30, 2009
11 years ago (I think I was sitting in my highschool OAC Geography class), as the morning announcements sounded over the PA system, I heard mention of 'Rotary club' and ' International student exchange'..."please go to guidance for more information and an application form". As soon as class ended, I basically sprinted to guidance, got an application form for a Rotary International Student Exchange and starting filling it out.
I don't remember if I asked my parents or told my parents, but they weren't against it, so we went ahead.
'Please write the top three countries you wish to be considered for'
1. Spain
2. Italy
3. Costa Rica
I was first accepted into the program and then around December I was told..."You'll be going to Costa Rica!".
I think I should have been happy...tropical paradise, eco-tourism central, CENTRO AMERICA! But I wasn't. My dream for Spain was crushed. Italy, crushed.
Somehow, tropical paradise didn't seem right.
Enter Cristina. Spanish exchange student to RIDGETOWN (pop. 3000, maybe)...poor girl. The compensation for her was that she could bus into Chatham and attend the Pines, my much larger highschool.
We became friends and through a twist of fate, her Mother spoke with Silvia who is the niece of the man who would become my host-father, Fernando.
Fernando's daughter, Patricia, wanted to do an exchange and her family needed to take-in an exchange student...many strings pulled and pushed on later...
Adios Costa Rica, HOLA ESPANA. Majadahonda. Madrid. Espana.
One of the best years of my life. The only thing missing was that I didn't get to spend it with Patricia (who was in New Mexico), one of the coolest people I've ever met.
Meet the exchange family:
Fernando - host father
Belinda - host mother
Patricia - host sister abroad in New Mexico, USA
Iris - host sister
Fernando - host brother
Naiara - host sister
...not to mention Uncles, Aunts, cousins, extended cousins, extra-extended cousins....
So this year, after 4 years of not having visited this family in Spain, Enrico gave me as a birthday present a ticket for me to Spain and a ticket for him...we would spend Christmas break in Majadahonda! And.........after some planning, we added our good friend Giorgio in the mix and away we went.
Not only did I have a beautiful first Christmas in Italy with Enrico's family, but I got to share all the wildness of the Romero Navarro / Gomez Sanchez home with Enrico and Giorgio.
NON-STOP FANTASTIC TIME.
Thank you Mum and Dad for trusting me, tolerating me and supporting me to go to Spain. I gained a language and a family that also keeps putting up with me everytime I go back and that keeps waiting for you both. I'm the luckiest.
Mum...the beach...southern Spain is calling you...and so is Belinda, oh wait a minute, she is screaming happily :-)
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