Showing posts with label Vita Bella. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vita Bella. Show all posts
Friday, July 30, 2010
Hiatus
Taking a short break from THE ALMIGHTY INTERNET. Going on vacation, soaking up some sun, getting my swim on, and getting some good reading done. See you, dear internet, in 10 days!
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Fin.
If you ask me (which, again, nobody ever does), the movie Fight Club has arguably the best ending any movie could ever have. If you haven't seen the movie, go out and get it right away. If you haven't read the book, go out and read it right away. Chuck Palahniuk (the book's author) and I have always had kind of a love/hate relationship. I love his writing, and I hate the way it makes me feel, which I love.
Now, back to Fight Club. It's really difficult, in my opinion, to get any movie to even resemble the scenes in your head that you get from reading words. And, often times, it really wouldnt work anyway. With Fight Club, the end is wonderful because while its obviously not exactly what you take away from the book, I think that the mood it sets does the book a great honor. And there's always the splicing-in of the penis that really just ties the whole thing together (you're going to have to watch).
Not to mention the song. The song! Could they have picked a more perfect song?! When the drum beat starts up and the buildings come down, it's so fucking beautiful. I could watch that scene for hours. The feeling during that scene is something that any of us would be lucky to feel even one time in our short lives. The feeling of really being alive. Of letting go. Of submitting to the reality and being OK with losing control. The sexual energy of total anarchy. The unknown.
Sometimes all you can do is stand there with your one person, and watch as everything comes crashing down around you. And knowing that it's all going to be ok.
Sometimes all you can do it watch. You might as well enjoy it.
Now, back to Fight Club. It's really difficult, in my opinion, to get any movie to even resemble the scenes in your head that you get from reading words. And, often times, it really wouldnt work anyway. With Fight Club, the end is wonderful because while its obviously not exactly what you take away from the book, I think that the mood it sets does the book a great honor. And there's always the splicing-in of the penis that really just ties the whole thing together (you're going to have to watch).
Not to mention the song. The song! Could they have picked a more perfect song?! When the drum beat starts up and the buildings come down, it's so fucking beautiful. I could watch that scene for hours. The feeling during that scene is something that any of us would be lucky to feel even one time in our short lives. The feeling of really being alive. Of letting go. Of submitting to the reality and being OK with losing control. The sexual energy of total anarchy. The unknown.
Sometimes all you can do is stand there with your one person, and watch as everything comes crashing down around you. And knowing that it's all going to be ok.
Sometimes all you can do it watch. You might as well enjoy it.
Friday, July 16, 2010
When Keeping it Real Goes Wrong
I have a sensitivity to red wine. I think it's the tannins. I didn't have this problem until about three years ago, and I have no idea why it started. I wouldn't call it an allergy, but if I have as little as one glass of red wine, I become overheated, slightly congested, and, above all, totally loopy. Drunk even.
When you belong to an Italian family, red wine is unavoidable. When I am out to dinner with normal people, I don't have a problem. However, when my family is around, I must prepare to have red wine poured down my gullet faster than I can protest. They know how it affects me, but it happens nonetheless.
For example, last night at dinner, I agreed to "just a little" and had to literally put my hand over my wine glass to stop the pouring (it didn't work-I got wine poured on my hand). No amount of begging or pleading, or "Basta!" will get you "just a little" red wine. Apparently, "just a little" means an entire goblet full. And then it keeps getting refilled when you aren't looking.
So, yeah. Suffice it to say, I was a little ...blasted. We were looking at slides from my parent's recent trip to Italy, and there was a point in time where I accidentally tried to eat my napkin. I don't think anyone noticed my because they were preoccupied with the slides, but my inappropriate laughter may have given me away. Using a piece of penne as a vuvuzela probably didn't do me any favors either.
It's really more of a hallucinogenic fever of sorts than drunkenness, I think, because I really only had the equivalent of two glasses. It leaves a pretty wicked headache about 3 hours later though. And it makes me worry that my brother's pet chinchilla, Giuseppe, is plotting to blackmail me. He has shifty eyes.
When you belong to an Italian family, red wine is unavoidable. When I am out to dinner with normal people, I don't have a problem. However, when my family is around, I must prepare to have red wine poured down my gullet faster than I can protest. They know how it affects me, but it happens nonetheless.
For example, last night at dinner, I agreed to "just a little" and had to literally put my hand over my wine glass to stop the pouring (it didn't work-I got wine poured on my hand). No amount of begging or pleading, or "Basta!" will get you "just a little" red wine. Apparently, "just a little" means an entire goblet full. And then it keeps getting refilled when you aren't looking.
So, yeah. Suffice it to say, I was a little ...blasted. We were looking at slides from my parent's recent trip to Italy, and there was a point in time where I accidentally tried to eat my napkin. I don't think anyone noticed my because they were preoccupied with the slides, but my inappropriate laughter may have given me away. Using a piece of penne as a vuvuzela probably didn't do me any favors either.
It's really more of a hallucinogenic fever of sorts than drunkenness, I think, because I really only had the equivalent of two glasses. It leaves a pretty wicked headache about 3 hours later though. And it makes me worry that my brother's pet chinchilla, Giuseppe, is plotting to blackmail me. He has shifty eyes.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
From the Archives
An old post (5 or so years ago?) But one I'd like to keep around
"Rock N' Roll, Come and Save Me"
One thing that has stayed constant in my life is my love, nay, obsession for music. Music has driven my dreams, my emotions, everything for as long as I can remember. I had cassette tapes and records when I was little. I had the Coasters and the Drifters, the Cars, the Beatles. Growing up, I had one of the largest CD collections I know of for a 12 year old girl. I could sit in my room for four hours and listen to an album over and over and over and over and over again. And you know what? it would never get boring. I never "finished" with my music. I still have all my CDs, or most of them, and now I have an Ipod with thousands of songs on it.
If you know me really well, you've might have heard me singing along to almost any song that comes on the radio. I've been asked how many songs I know the lyrics to, and the answer is thousands. I know the lyrics to thousands of songs.
It's not all about the lyrics to me. I remember every drum beat, every rhythm, every timing, every note, every bass line that makes me close my eyes and clench my fists for a minute. I remember ever concert, every facial expression on the faces of the musician, every solo. I see the sweat pour down the drummer's face and I see the callused fingers on the frets of the guitars. And sometimes, when things fall apart all around me, I still have the music. If nothing else, i will always have the music.
Through music we can live forever. Music has made me laugh, it's made me cry, it's made me scream, it's made me throw bottles against a wall in a true state of rage. It give me a feeling that can only be described by the music itself. There are no words to explain it, except the combination of notes lyrics.
Music brings up so many memories of people, places, smells, sounds, feelings... If someone asked me what reminded me of someone in my life I could give them a list of 50 songs that make me remember something about them or that bring up a memory. My memory is splayed out on staves. If I never have anything else, I will always have the music, and I will always be listening.
"Rock and roll is so great, people should start dying for it. You don't understand. The music gave you back your beat so you could dream. A whole generation running with a Fender bass...
The people just have to die for the music. People are dying for everything else, so why not the music? Die for it. Isn't it pretty? Wouldn't you die for something pretty?
Perhaps I should die. After all, all the great Blues singers did die. But life is getting better now.
I dont want to die. Do I?"
-Lou Reed
"Rock N' Roll, Come and Save Me"
One thing that has stayed constant in my life is my love, nay, obsession for music. Music has driven my dreams, my emotions, everything for as long as I can remember. I had cassette tapes and records when I was little. I had the Coasters and the Drifters, the Cars, the Beatles. Growing up, I had one of the largest CD collections I know of for a 12 year old girl. I could sit in my room for four hours and listen to an album over and over and over and over and over again. And you know what? it would never get boring. I never "finished" with my music. I still have all my CDs, or most of them, and now I have an Ipod with thousands of songs on it.
If you know me really well, you've might have heard me singing along to almost any song that comes on the radio. I've been asked how many songs I know the lyrics to, and the answer is thousands. I know the lyrics to thousands of songs.
It's not all about the lyrics to me. I remember every drum beat, every rhythm, every timing, every note, every bass line that makes me close my eyes and clench my fists for a minute. I remember ever concert, every facial expression on the faces of the musician, every solo. I see the sweat pour down the drummer's face and I see the callused fingers on the frets of the guitars. And sometimes, when things fall apart all around me, I still have the music. If nothing else, i will always have the music.
Through music we can live forever. Music has made me laugh, it's made me cry, it's made me scream, it's made me throw bottles against a wall in a true state of rage. It give me a feeling that can only be described by the music itself. There are no words to explain it, except the combination of notes lyrics.
Music brings up so many memories of people, places, smells, sounds, feelings... If someone asked me what reminded me of someone in my life I could give them a list of 50 songs that make me remember something about them or that bring up a memory. My memory is splayed out on staves. If I never have anything else, I will always have the music, and I will always be listening.
"Rock and roll is so great, people should start dying for it. You don't understand. The music gave you back your beat so you could dream. A whole generation running with a Fender bass...
The people just have to die for the music. People are dying for everything else, so why not the music? Die for it. Isn't it pretty? Wouldn't you die for something pretty?
Perhaps I should die. After all, all the great Blues singers did die. But life is getting better now.
I dont want to die. Do I?"
-Lou Reed
Friday, July 9, 2010
Rock n' Roll Walk of Shame
Sometimes I consider the possibility that my life is the stuff of Hollywood dramadies, but then I realize that I am, in fact, mostly delusional. I keep waiting for these unfortunate and somewhat ridiculous situations to turn into a real-life romantic comedy, but recently I have come to find that not only am I single, broke, stressed out, overworked, and confused about everything going on, but also I seem to just not understand the men in my life. Any of them really.
I mean, I get it, you have a penis. Big deal. (The clitoris has three times the amount of nerve endings than the entire penis has all together so put in your blunt and smoke it). I understand that guys have this sexual urge that needs to be fulfilled, but so do women! Sure, physiologically the estrogen/testosterone ratios are different in men and women causing some different desires/reactions than the opposite sex. However, it seems to me that it is mostly the societal roles that men feel that they have to uphold that are really the root of the problem here.
This isn't really where I meant for this post to go, so let me just sum this up right now while its on my mind: It is not fair that men are "allowed" or even expected and praised for being sexual, and women are deemed sluts or "loose". The fact that society portrays men as terrified of marriage, or any romantic commitment while women are shown as desperate for marriage and babies by the dozen is grossly unfair to both parties.
OK that rant is over...I'm not trying to get all "I am woman hear me roar!", trust me. I'm just saddened by the fact that if I were to want a relationship or children I would be viewed as the desperate woman trying to catch a man. The old ball and chain. Whatever happened to partnerships? Do those exist anymore? Just a real man and a real women, with sexual desires, with romance, with common goals and dreams? Who knows...
******
So I found myself driving my Honda Accord through the streets of San Francisco this morning just before dawn and I realized what a beautiful time of day that is, and how beautiful the city was. I love that time of day when nobody is awake and it is so quiet. It's not cold, because the fog is insulating, but the air is wet and gray. It smells like rain but it isn't raining. You can see everything, but it isn't quite light out; the sun hasn't risen. I think that this must be my favorite time of day. This time, right before the breaking of dawn. I also love dusk, right as the sun dips down past the mountains and there is an hour or so before darkness, but something about the time right before dawn is really magical.
Despite everything that I have been dealing with, at this time, I felt truly calm. The seagulls flying by the bay in lazy circles were the perfect accompaniment to the perfect song that had come on my car radio at the perfect time. I sung along with the Pixies... "Where is my mind?"
I mean, I get it, you have a penis. Big deal. (The clitoris has three times the amount of nerve endings than the entire penis has all together so put in your blunt and smoke it). I understand that guys have this sexual urge that needs to be fulfilled, but so do women! Sure, physiologically the estrogen/testosterone ratios are different in men and women causing some different desires/reactions than the opposite sex. However, it seems to me that it is mostly the societal roles that men feel that they have to uphold that are really the root of the problem here.
This isn't really where I meant for this post to go, so let me just sum this up right now while its on my mind: It is not fair that men are "allowed" or even expected and praised for being sexual, and women are deemed sluts or "loose". The fact that society portrays men as terrified of marriage, or any romantic commitment while women are shown as desperate for marriage and babies by the dozen is grossly unfair to both parties.
OK that rant is over...I'm not trying to get all "I am woman hear me roar!", trust me. I'm just saddened by the fact that if I were to want a relationship or children I would be viewed as the desperate woman trying to catch a man. The old ball and chain. Whatever happened to partnerships? Do those exist anymore? Just a real man and a real women, with sexual desires, with romance, with common goals and dreams? Who knows...
******
So I found myself driving my Honda Accord through the streets of San Francisco this morning just before dawn and I realized what a beautiful time of day that is, and how beautiful the city was. I love that time of day when nobody is awake and it is so quiet. It's not cold, because the fog is insulating, but the air is wet and gray. It smells like rain but it isn't raining. You can see everything, but it isn't quite light out; the sun hasn't risen. I think that this must be my favorite time of day. This time, right before the breaking of dawn. I also love dusk, right as the sun dips down past the mountains and there is an hour or so before darkness, but something about the time right before dawn is really magical.
Despite everything that I have been dealing with, at this time, I felt truly calm. The seagulls flying by the bay in lazy circles were the perfect accompaniment to the perfect song that had come on my car radio at the perfect time. I sung along with the Pixies... "Where is my mind?"
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Darkness
The thing about working nights is that you are either always tired or never tired. Lately, it's been both. A sick little combination of being exhausted and having insomnia. If you've been there, you know what I'm talking about.
There's been a lot going on. Starting grad school full time in the fall is going to be difficult, I know, but it will also be a nice experience again to be expected to learn, rather than be expected to have all the answers all the time (and I wish that I did, but I never do).
The class I took this summer couldn't have started at a worse time, only weeks after the demise of a relationship that I thought would result in a marriage. It sounds even stupider when I write it out like this, even more naive, but that's where I thought it was going...that's where I was told it was going. I guess I was blinded by our beautiful apartment (the one that was never really ours anyway), the good times, and the promises that I always believed. I don't talk about it much anymore because there is just nothing more to say, but I finally feel like I can write something about it. We were both to blame, in different ways, and I should have seen it coming. I lost myself somewhere along the way...and now I'm just starting to come back. It kind of brings me back to a post that I wrote a few months ago about whether or not two people could really be together forever, if they could really love each other for the rest of their lives. Really be there. In the post I was undecided, and I guess that is still where I stand.
So, when it came time to do this class, I was at the point where I could hardly even motivate myself to get out of the house. But being here was torture. I forced myself to go. I threw on my old jeans and a tank top and showed up looking entirely unprofessional. But I went. I went to work, too. I felt like my world was ending, but I forced myself to focus. I ignored everything else, and immersed myself in my studies and my patients. I felt so weak. I felt so alone. When I started feeling really terrible again, I would leave with my text books and just read them at Starbucks for hours. Memorizing the most minuscule of details, I was not only able to distract myself from the pain, but I also aced my class. I found out today that I'm starting my program in the fall with an A in my prerequisite class. A class that some students even ended up failing.
Today I no longer feel weak, I feel strong. Ive been strong the entire time, I just couldn't see it. I felt like i lost myself, but Ive actually been gaining more than i ever knew. Ive had fun lately. Ive actually enjoyed myself. Ive realized that the relationship that I thought was perfect, wasn't so perfect after all. Not for a long time. Its a long story, but I feel like in the past few months I have grown exponentially. Today, I feel like I can do things that I never thought I could do six months ago.
As for my ability to love; its not gone. It never will be. I cant help it, and that's probably a good thing in the long run. For now, I plan to not plan. I will get through this program, I will do things that I want to do. There will be sacrifices, sure. Like possibly (probably) moving back in with my parents temporarily while I'm in school (that will be the beginning of some VERY interesting posts, I'm sure). Its better than working full time nights and trying to go to school. That's just not doable for me. With clinicals and lectures, I would be busy 7 days a week...not to mention studying. And forget about a social life...and sleep....I cant afford my beautiful apartment, but I know that if I work hard enough that someday I will have a beautiful place again...and maybe I'll even own it instead of renting!
So, maybe I'm not exactly where I thought I would be at this point in my life, and I'm taking a couple of hard hits this year, but I'm feeling better about it than I was. I am not as alone as i thought. its difficult to not have someone to sleep next to every night, and its hard to know that there isn't that connection that there used to be. I look at my married friends, and I still feel envious of that bond...its so strong. But, at the same time, I am beginning to feel empowered as a single woman, and I know that if I ever do get married, that is how I should feel; empowered and part of a partnership. An equal. I haven't felt this way in a long time.
Things are going to be different...
There's been a lot going on. Starting grad school full time in the fall is going to be difficult, I know, but it will also be a nice experience again to be expected to learn, rather than be expected to have all the answers all the time (and I wish that I did, but I never do).
The class I took this summer couldn't have started at a worse time, only weeks after the demise of a relationship that I thought would result in a marriage. It sounds even stupider when I write it out like this, even more naive, but that's where I thought it was going...that's where I was told it was going. I guess I was blinded by our beautiful apartment (the one that was never really ours anyway), the good times, and the promises that I always believed. I don't talk about it much anymore because there is just nothing more to say, but I finally feel like I can write something about it. We were both to blame, in different ways, and I should have seen it coming. I lost myself somewhere along the way...and now I'm just starting to come back. It kind of brings me back to a post that I wrote a few months ago about whether or not two people could really be together forever, if they could really love each other for the rest of their lives. Really be there. In the post I was undecided, and I guess that is still where I stand.
So, when it came time to do this class, I was at the point where I could hardly even motivate myself to get out of the house. But being here was torture. I forced myself to go. I threw on my old jeans and a tank top and showed up looking entirely unprofessional. But I went. I went to work, too. I felt like my world was ending, but I forced myself to focus. I ignored everything else, and immersed myself in my studies and my patients. I felt so weak. I felt so alone. When I started feeling really terrible again, I would leave with my text books and just read them at Starbucks for hours. Memorizing the most minuscule of details, I was not only able to distract myself from the pain, but I also aced my class. I found out today that I'm starting my program in the fall with an A in my prerequisite class. A class that some students even ended up failing.
Today I no longer feel weak, I feel strong. Ive been strong the entire time, I just couldn't see it. I felt like i lost myself, but Ive actually been gaining more than i ever knew. Ive had fun lately. Ive actually enjoyed myself. Ive realized that the relationship that I thought was perfect, wasn't so perfect after all. Not for a long time. Its a long story, but I feel like in the past few months I have grown exponentially. Today, I feel like I can do things that I never thought I could do six months ago.
As for my ability to love; its not gone. It never will be. I cant help it, and that's probably a good thing in the long run. For now, I plan to not plan. I will get through this program, I will do things that I want to do. There will be sacrifices, sure. Like possibly (probably) moving back in with my parents temporarily while I'm in school (that will be the beginning of some VERY interesting posts, I'm sure). Its better than working full time nights and trying to go to school. That's just not doable for me. With clinicals and lectures, I would be busy 7 days a week...not to mention studying. And forget about a social life...and sleep....I cant afford my beautiful apartment, but I know that if I work hard enough that someday I will have a beautiful place again...and maybe I'll even own it instead of renting!
So, maybe I'm not exactly where I thought I would be at this point in my life, and I'm taking a couple of hard hits this year, but I'm feeling better about it than I was. I am not as alone as i thought. its difficult to not have someone to sleep next to every night, and its hard to know that there isn't that connection that there used to be. I look at my married friends, and I still feel envious of that bond...its so strong. But, at the same time, I am beginning to feel empowered as a single woman, and I know that if I ever do get married, that is how I should feel; empowered and part of a partnership. An equal. I haven't felt this way in a long time.
Things are going to be different...
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