Category Archives: friends

“It’s a recession when your neighbour loses his job; it’s a depression when you lose your own”- H.S. Truman

Let’s be honest, sentences like “money doesn’t count” are sensible when you have enough of it to live and you don’t have to struggle to pay bills or say no to everything you like because you can’t afford it. Of course: family and friends are more important than money, I always say that I’m a millionaire if I look at the friends I have, but even if they’re beyond important with their support and love, it doesn’t bring food on my table.

My life was already bad due to health, now it’s going to get worse, because in two years my family will lose its fix income and all my ideas of earning money working from home, crashed against stupid Italian internal revenue system, according to which you need a VAT for everything and have to pay a fix tax even if you don’t earn nothing. (I still doing researches about home based jobs because I need something I can manage  according to bad and good health days).

In the blink of an eye all the things I’ve built, planned, worked hard for, are going to disappear due to economical interests that thinks that a factory that is not productive enough, has to been shut down, no matter how many family this will affect.

Pope Francis recently said that closing factories and businesses and taking work (and dignity) away from men and women is a grave sin. If there’s a life after that, they will probably pay for that, but at the moment we are those who are having a living Hell on Earth. Words are uplifting, but aren’t enough.

The sad thing is that I sacrificed my happiness, dignity and self esteem for stability. I chose an abusive but stable relationship over a happier, but uncertain one. And now? Now all is gone. I’m starting having anxiety attacks and depression is stronger than ever. I tried, but never be able to commit suicide because of my loving one, at the moment, the only thing that stops me is the fear to fail, believe me, killing yourself is not as easy as you think and there’s a lot of things that can go wrong.

I wrote these last lines not because I’m an attention whore who needs pity and nice words, it’s a self reminding of how strong I am. Next post will be different and more useful, I promise: I have so many things to say and I will run this blog until I can afford internet connection.

I would say to those who lost their job to stay strong, to use this experience to start a new life, to be positive, but these are words that you can find on life coaches blogs. People who have money and don’t have to look into their children eyes telling them “I’m sorry, we can’t buy this”. I’m only a broken creature with no magic spell who’s trying to see the light even in the darkest times. Someone wrote that I’m a fighter through the fire: I should wear off my cape of self commiseration and take my sword.

TRACK OF THE DAY: Stressed out- Twenty one Pilots

 

“We are the music makers and we are the dreamers of dreams”-Arthur O’Shaughnessy

It is said: don’t wash your dirty linen in public; what wise advice to follow! But it is inapplicable when it’s up to International music competitions where Italy has to show out her artists. I’m always ashamed to show that my fellow countrymen listens and what there’s on the top of Italian charts: it’s time for Eurovision Contest again, this year the Italian contestant is a nice guy with a catchy song named “Occidentali’s Karma” which won Festival di Sanremo 2017.  I can call myself lucky after past years critics regarding the Volo trio (“Oh. Italians never age! Those old men look so young!” or “Who are those mummies?” a few of my friends’ kindest comments) or singer Emma Marrone (“Where are her clothes?”).

My foreign friends seem to like Francesco Gabbani, they find his dance funny and his song pleasant and easy listening. So, what am I complaining about? That everybody wants me to translate “the dancing ape song”. And it’s a quite difficult task since there are a lot of unusual terms; in the end I made it, but the song lost a bit of its wit.

Will he win tomorrow? Hope so: somebunny owes me to dance and sing “Westerners’ karma” via face time.

TRACK OF THE DAY: Occidentali’s Karma- Francesco Gabbani

“People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die”― Haruki Murakami

My laptop suddenly died with a lot of unsaved stuff in it and I’m currently writing on a borrowed computer which is probably power supplied by dinosaurs, but as it’s said: it’s better than nothing.

It has probably been a good thing for you all, since I had a terrible time, suffering chronic pain, frustration and an insane amount of emotional abuse. It hasn’t got better to be honest, but my unwinged angels from this side and from the opposite side of the pond, supported me and both told and demonstrated me that I’m worth loving. Whenever I feel like complaining about how it’s always raining on me, I should remember that I have big umbrellas, some of them are even limited edition. And JD, well, JD always plays a big part in my happiness; I even finally found the answer to the question “Describe him in two words”. I’ve never been able to choose among his infinite qualities, but now I know how to portray him: “nothing compares”.

I read a lot of books as usual, I indulged in Sylvia Plath’s works and that’s something I should avoid, above all when I’m depressed, if I don’t want to end with the head in the oven like her without having written anything notable.

I thought a lot about death lately, suicide, of course, but also about what happens to our beloved stuff once we die. I was in a thrift shop where a friend of mine volunteeers and a woman came with a garbage bag full of collectibles, knick-knack and books, saying that her mom died, so she had to make space in the house. I looked at the object thinking about which sentimental value they may had for their owner. We only see a little value decorative item, but maybe it was a present of an ancient lover, the souvenir of a long desired journey, the memory of a funny trip. And it’s sad to think that one day my kids will do the same; they will put my beloved books, my cherished vinyls, my precious signed CD and all my stuff in a black trash bag and bring it to a thrift shop or throw it into the bin.

So, in case someone will put their hands on the drumsticks JD gave to me, please, treasure them, not only because they’re the only pair used for Heartless video, but because they’re my magic wands: I hold them whenever I feel shit and my mood changes because they say “you’re loved!”. They mean more than what they are, love them as I did. Thanks.

TRACK OF THE DAY: Good Riddance- Green Day

“I say I am stronger than fear”-Malala Yousafzai

I’ve thought a lot about the necessity of this post since I never talk about what happens around me or in the world. Honestly I hate those who feel the urge to comment on every single fact, just to show they are concerned in society, politics and so on. To be frank I never post anything about this issues, not for a lack of interest, but because I don’t feel the need to add my voice to the amount of opinions we can find online, I think we should talk when we really have something to say, if not, silence is way better.

What happened in London yesterday overwhelmed me, when a friend reported to a totally unaware me the sad  news, I stopped breathing. I thought about my friends, about the special person who lives there and I hadn’t been ok until I checked that they all were fine.

And please, if you’re up to comment that I’m one of those people to whom European deceased people count more than those in Siria, stop. It’s not a matter of distance or importance, it’s about worrying first about family and friends. I know it’s selfish, but it’s something we all do and don’t try to deny it. It’s human to think of our relatives affected by cancer before of the other people fighting this beast, it’s human to worry because we are unemployed before thinking of those who don’t have a work.

I don’t want to comment what happened in London, I just want to spread how most of the people living there, feel.

Immagine

(Credits for this edit to: Rishi Metha)

TRACK OF THE DAY: Human-Rag’n’Bone Man

Medicines and surgery may cure, but only reading and writing poetry can heal”-J. Arroyo

When I started this blog, I promised myself I would never vomit in it any complaint about my miserable life. I’m not a lame person or an attention seeker, but chronic illness made me fragile and living with a selfish person who doesn’t support me and rolls his eyes or complains about medical expenses or accuses me of faking diseases, doesn’t help at all. I’m lucky I have wonderful friends to lean on, but sometimes, like today, they’re not enough, so I have to use the healing power of writing.

I got very scared today: I was walking, no worries, no pressure, heading to the supermarket, then I felt a massive chest pain. I tried not to panic since at its worst, hiatus hernia pain can mimic that of a heart attack, but when my left arm went numb, I seriously started worrying. I rushed home (one of my biggest fears is to die alone in the street) and did yoga breathing exercises, chat with all the people I found online, because having also a panic attack was the last thing I needed. I drank an hot chamomile and stayed quiet until the symptoms kinda went away. In the meanwhile my mind had explored all the worst sceneries and dug out all my deepest fears. I don’t fear death, I just don’t want to leave things undone, I was looking around the room and thinking about the book to be given back to the library, to my unfinished fan-fiction, to all the things that I and only I, know, all the friends that would see me disappear without a clue, just because we don’t hang out in real life. These sorts of stupid little things. I texted a friend I called “Annoying pervert” yesterday, because I didn’t want that the last text of mine to him was that joking offence. And then I started thinking that I should tell more to my significant ones that I love them, at least my best friend has the task to tell JD how much I loved him in case I die suddenly, but the others?

I still feel crap, but better, so I decided to write this nonsense post to exorcise my fears and because I’ve always believed that writing sessions have a positive effect on my mind and, why not, on my stupid sick body.

Sorry for the rant. All the love xx.

TRACK OF THE DAY: Avalanche- Bring me the Horizon

 

“I wonder how much of the day I spend just callin’ after you”- Harper Lee

Now I know: my worst enemy is memory. I’ve read three books in four days and they all were set in London, because I simply needed to go back there through the only mean I can afford: reading. But despite of the fact that the novels took place in the City, they were so different from the story I was trying to find in them. Maybe I should write it, my story, my London, my English love affair, but each time I try, thoughts and feelings want to come out all at once, leaving me speachless. And I’m sure there aren’t words able to describe what I feel and if they were, I’m sure they would contaminate what I’m trying to say. So, until I’m able to be totally sincere towards me at first, I will keep looking for my story in other people’s.

One of the books I read was “The ballad of Peckham Rye” by Muriel Sparks. The story revolves around the great influence the Scot charachter Douglas Dougall has on the people living in Peckham. He’s a sort of consciences shooker, we could say that he plays the role of the devil himself and acting this way he earns friends and opponents. He gets to convince a young electrician to refuse his wife to be at the altar, the words “No, to be quite frank, I won’t” and the whole situation becomes a ballad in the local pubs and gives the book its name.

It was a pleasant read, but it didn’t thrill me that much, expect from reminding me when I visited Peckham all alone, in a late evening, without my guardian angels.

The first thing that stroke me after going out from the Overground station, was the big variety of odours: Peckham Rye is a sort of huge open air market whose most of the businesses are run or frequented by members of the UK’s largest overseas Nigerian community. There were no tourists in sight, so I didn’t dare taking pictures, I simply enjoyed my stroll, having the impression to be in Lagos, rather than in London. It was pleasant, but also a bit uncomfortable, since it was dark, I was in an unknown borough with no reassuring Underground sign. Then I took a train at Peckham station, but until I landed safely at Victoria’s station, I wasn’t sure I was in the right direction.

So, when my friends want to pull my leg, they talk about my Peckham experience, but they also promised they will take me there again so I could see the street arts, the parks, the art galleries and, if in Summer, we will enjoy a film at the rooftop film club and have a drink at Frank’s Cafe.

TRACK OF THE DAY: Lost on you- LP

“If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one” Mother Teresa

One of the endless polemic I read on socials in these days, regarded the opportunity of giving money for the earthquake surviving: where will the euros recollected by solidal sms would go and if banks or providers would make money out of it.

As I’ve already said, this is a licit doubt, not only when there are big charity acts like that, but also in our daily life, when we decide to do something for the others. My advice is to choose a charity you can feel you can trust, get informations about how it operates and if possible, get in touch with people who work for it. Check their work, what they did in a concrete way, because it’s easy to use nice words and kind images, but here only facts matter. And then start giving.

The charity I chose and support is Food for the hungry that I got to know through JD and whose work is so important and effective. But they need your help to end poverty one community at a time. Check their work here https://fh.org/work and think about that.

My friend Tonya sponsors a child called David so I’ve also the evidences of what FFH does through her story. I’m going to be blessed with a sponsored child soon, I will share my exprerience with you (obviously respecting her privacy).

If anyone wants more informations on how sponsor a child, visit this link https://fh.org/give/sponsor you will help not only a child, but also their family and their community for around 1€ per day.

I’ve got other charities I personally trust because I know people involved in them, I will list them in another post.

TRACK OF THE DAY: One way or another-One Direction