lust but not least

It's no secret that the last six months have been kind of a rollercoaster ride for me. After all the crying (much), laughing (not so much), lovemaking and love searching, now it's time to pace down and be with myself.
I did a lot of thinking during last week, and this is one of the reasons I haven't written anything up until now. I was too busy trying to sort out my thoughts (and working like a dog, to be true).
Reality is snowing inside my heart in tiny flakes. At first they melted in touching me. Now they're too many and they're a cold but soft cover that I can't ignore anymore. Just like snowflakes, every truthflake is different from the others, it would take a lifetime to examine them all. The bigger ones are easy to recognize though not so easy to manage. One is "being single", one is "Mr.Charmes' new girlfriend", another one is "Mr.Charmes being unfit for me, in the end".
Smaller ones are about subtler things, about my perception of myself and my ability to live with and within myself. I know it may sound obvious to many, but it never occured to me that, as long as I take care of myself I may be alone but I'll never be lonely. It's like I've always needed someone else to trace my outline. As if I couldn't paint myself on my own. The truth held in this flake is that everyone can perfectly be contained within themselves, we don't need anyone else building a fence for our cattle to be safe. We are our own fence. We protect our own cattle. Well, this may sound a bit too City Slickers, but it gives the idea, doesn't it?...
Anyway, during this truthfall the only thing I feel like doing is to live quietly and read inspiring books. Breathe deeply. Meet people without being caught by them. I need to keep a clear eye on myself and on these flakes.

I'm confident that springtime is coming. I can almost hear the sound of the first flower of hope springing up through the snowy cover. All I have to do is keep silent and focused.

The sun is warm and the ice is melting. So hush. And let the miracle begin.

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title from: Don't explain - Herzog/Holiday

Two years before giving birth to me, my mommy lost her first baby. Had she lived, she would have been 36. They named her Sara (and this is the only true name in the blog) and as her lungs weren't strong enough to make her breathe, she flew away taking my parents' smile with her.
My Aunt Choy tells me that when I was no more than 3 I used to talk loudly to my "sister in Heaven".
I actually don't remember anything about that but it sounds quite likely, as I still talk to myself very very often. Oh, I pretend to be talking to the cats - which somehow seems a bit more "normal" - but I'm actually either practising my English or rehearsing some conversation I wanna have with someone at work...But that's another story.

I like to think that, had she lived, she would have had dark hair and green/hazelnut sweet eyes, long eyelashes and a warm smile. I like to think that, had she lived, she would have been there for me.

Sara is quiet as always and has a low voice that cuddles me over the phone while she asks me to stay at her home tonite. Her hubby's out to work - he's a vet and has a conference or something - and the kids will be in bed by 9.30. She has two small children of 3 and 4, a boy and a girl, who both call me Auntie-tah and never fail to make me feel guilty asking me "when are you going to bring us your cookies, Auntie-tah?"

She knows I'm heartbroken. She has talked to Kee over the phone and I'm sure they've made up some "rescue plan". So tonite I'm staying at her's. We have veg soup with crostini bread and scrumbled eggs with cheese. After pj-ing the kids, we finally chill out on the sofa, our legs intertwined, a yellow blanket that covers us right up to our chins and a mug of steaming barley drink on the coffee table.
- hon, you look like shit
- thanks. I know.
- what the hell are you eating these days? Cloudy-covered spooks?
- yeah. And don't forget the Gloomynnaise for the dressing..
- so, what the hell has he done this time?
- oh nothing new really. He's just making clearer and clearer that he's engaged and doesn't love me anymore. He's attracted to me. He cares. He says he "knows there isn't anyone else" to make him feel the way I do. Still, he's engaged. I know he's a mess and I know he's my cryptonite. Still, I feel lousy. Still, I longer for him.
- hon, you've known for months that he's like a thorn in your paw... and you also know that his girlfriend's not so lucky, given the fact that he still craves you like crazy. You've known he's kinda engaged for days now. What has changed?
- don't know, Sara...maybe I'm too tired to think straight. I'm overwhelmed by pain and I overestimated my ability to cope with the truth.
- Listen, he's thinking neither with his mind nor with his body at the moment. He's reacting just like a wounded bear. He wants to run away from you, and everytime he gets to see you he tells himself the tale that he wants to make love to you because "he can't help it". Bullshit. You've only given yourself the chance to get to know yourself better, by seeing him again. By testing your emotions. Now you know that this passion and lust was not only in your mind. It's stronger than you thought, and it entagles him more than ever. He can't afford you, sissie-tah, because you're too much. And he's scared to death by the depth within you both.
- yeah, right. And where does this leave me? Here on your couch, feeling lost and crying my bloody heart out. Thinking that he's happy and content, buying her books and flowers, kissing her tenderly while I'm here trying to survive
- (sings) at first I was afraid I was petrified..
- ...oh c'mon
- ..kept thinking I could never live without you by my side
- ..stop it, you silly bitch! (a smile cracks in between the tears)
- but then I spent so many night with my sister on the couch... and I grew strong! (hands up and almost dancing) and I learned how to get along!
- ok ok ok stop torturing me this way! I surrender! you're right.
- ok, repeat with me. He's messed with me and it's perfectly normal that I feel like shit.
- yeah, he's messed with me
- and???
- and it's perfectly normal that I feel like shit.
- ok. (stroking my hair) Good girl, my sissie-tah. Don't you feel better?
- Yeah, I'm great. By the way, can I commit suicide later, while you're sleeping?
- Of course you can. Only do it in silence, 'cause if you wake up the kids I'll play the Lazarus/Jesus game just to kill you with my bare hands.
- Fine.

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Title from: Basket Case - Green Day

Most of my friends are currently going through a tough period.
Sikbros is having some house related troubles mixed with a few old ghosts who are coming out of the closet of his mind.. he's restless and touchy and it really hurts me to sense his uneasiness and pain, much more so because I've never seen him like this.
Frook is trying to sort out her relationship with her boyfriend. They both look tired and bored nonetheless they'll undoubtedly suffer if the chance will come to part and I'm so so sorry for her.
Chippendale was waiting for her man to come back home from abroad and get married, but he proved himself not to be so trustworthy while away so now I'm afraid she's just waiting him to get back, pack and leave.
Fleep is struggling against rage and melancholy because her ex-boyfriend has found a new lover while she's still single.
Lawnmo' has just put his heart in the hands of a very complicated woman and now, at 42, he's moaning like a baby because of her selfish manouvres.

Most of them called me out to have a talk, to vent and have some good advice. I'm great at giving good advices. To others, of course. When it comes to myself I'm a total mess...

What's left of the bond between me and Mr.Charmes seems to be hard to cut. And this painful situation has taken its toll once again. How many different things a single relationship can hold... rivalry, lust, tenderness and affection yet rage and resentment... I haven't written anything about him lately because I'm more confused than ever, but suffice to say that we can't meet without being thrown in each other's arms. Save, afterwards, feeling thorn between wanting more and wanting to run away - and in the struggle running away (him) or feeling like shit because of the void right after feeling like heaven because of the fullness (me). We've both had other people in our mind or in our bed, but this doesn't seem to make any difference. It's too hard to explain and too painful to describe. Especially now, that I just got back to work after one of the hardest counselling sessions of all my life. Almost 2 hours spent pacing the room like a tiger and crying my heart out in despair. I obviously don't want to summarize what the session was about, it's just to help you all picture my current mood... Lord, I'm exhausted! As I have to stay in this wonderful and cozy office for at least some 2 hours more, I thought I'd better find something to lift me up a bit.

So here I go with the "10 things I should do when I'm blue" list

1) Eat. I never seem to be able to feed myself properly when I'm sad..

2) Go out. Staying home is absolutely counterproductive

3) Keep my mind busy with pleasant activities: quilting, reading, watching Harry Potter two first dvd's, cooking

4) Take care of my body: have a wax, a haircut, a body wrub, do some yoga. Anything that helps me to be in contact with reality, with my phisical being

5) Focus either on serious subjects and on funny things. There's a whole warm world over the wet cold blanket of sadness (thanks to Anne, Deb, Filippo, Funny Thing and Anaglyph at The Cow for the maybe unconscious but priceless help!)

6) Write write write

7) Think positive. I know this may sound obvious and a bit naive, but it definitely helps! If only I could do it more often I'd be perfect! ;-)

8) Start something new (i.e. a new needlework project, a new book) Anything that requires my care and attention. It makes me feel "solid", somehow.

9) Remember how many times I've thought "I won't make it through this". And how many times I've actually made it through anything.. thank God!

10) Always always remember that nothing that comes my way is here by chance. Everything's here for some specific purpose. Be it learning something, be it getting stronger, be it never forgetting the taste of tears so to be happier when the time for smiles comes. Because it comes.

I'm writing it all down so to never forget any of these points and I'd really appreciate all of the passers-by to drop a line. Do you have something to add to my list?

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As my post titles keep coming from songs or movies, I thought to make the quotations clearer.

Today's title's from: A groovy kind of love- Phil Collins

There are lots of people in the life of everyone of us. Some of them are for good. Some of them pass and go. Some impress a mark in our hearts. Some are a gift from Heaven. Some are a pain in the ass.

What follows is another picture of the people I share my time with. Some of them are always there, some show up once in a while. But I love them all, in different ways.

I've started working for the Addams two years ago and since then I've come to know all my co-workers a bit more day by day: as I've told you before, they're quite a bunch of idiots. But, as the saying goes, it must be an ill wind that blows nobody any good, so in between of all these silly chicks there's an outsider.. Frook is not easy to be with. She's the most reserved person I've ever met. She's very friendly with people but won't let anyone get really close to her. She's a complex mix... a frightened child yet an energetic friend, a brisk worker yet a sweet doggy-mommy. She's there when I need help and support, and as she's let me take a look under her surface, I can tell she feels the same about me. Although we often have different points of view about the way we live our life, we deeply respect and care for each other. I think we met at the right time and hope our friendship will last for many many years to come.

Before working for the Addams and before working at the lab, I worked in a small office who dealt with medical remboursements for people with kidney transplants. At that time, the only places where they could have a fast transplant were Houston (USA) and Moscow (Russia), which where very expensive places to go, so we took care of all the documents needed to get some money back from the local administration. I was 19 at that time, and Lawnmo' was 28 or so. He volounteered at one of the city hospitals in the nephrology wing, giving piano lessons to the kids stuck in bed during dialysis. Sometimes he went at our office (the people I worked for where volounteers either) and spent the morning talking with me. After a short time he found a job as a gardener in a local school for disabled people, and he still works there (doing great great things). He's generous and simple, and has always treated me with the utmost kindness. Lately we've got closer than in the past; he treats me like the sister he's never had and now that we're adults I can fully appreciate the honesty of our frienship.

Chippendale is sunshine in form of a woman. She's in her late 30's and works as a mechanical engineer in a beautiful city in the north of Italy. Even if she's been there for just a few years now, she's already made a great career and is constantly doing great at what she does.
She is the happy mom of a small army of female pets (an almost-dalmatian bitch and 4 cats) with whom she shares her flat, her sofa and her warm smile. She's bright, smart and always colorfully dressed. Together with Seaweed, she's one of the three witches of my Sabbath and I love her deeply.

After the remboursement office and the lab I worked in a call center. That's where I've met Fleep and her shy manners. She's almost my age but time seems to have forgotten to leave its mark on her body making her look like a 14-years-old girl. It's quite strange how we've become so close, considering all the differences between us, but I think that our relationship is basically made of respect and trust, which is a great thing.

Growing up I've obviously found out that being friends is not exactly being alike or sharing the same way of life.

Sometimes it's all about caring and being cared for. Sometimes it's simply about being there when someone needs us. Always it's about being ourselves.

I wasn't cautious enough.. someone saw me while cleaning up the world from crappy K.o.M.... I thought they were asking me to pose just because I'm nice.. do you think there's any evidence of a crime?



(thanks to the guys at planearium)

7 am. I wake up. My right eye is a pulsing bulge. Sealed with some dried secretion, the eyelids are itchy and swollen.
Unless the north witch has cast a spell while I was asleep, there must be a logical explanation for this, so don't panic girl and think:

Dad's name's not Polypheme, so being a cyclop is out of question
I'm not a boxer so any overnight fight must be cancelled from the list of the possible causes
I have no particular allergyes to anything but dust, red pepper and some weeds. And none of them affects my eyes, anyway.
I actually cried before getting to sleep, and this could explain the bulge, but not the sticky crap my eyelids are glued with..

Now it's 4 pm and I still don't have a clue. I used some eye wash and it worked quite well for the itchiness, but the meatball eye's still swoooooollen.

Even in this piratesque version I came to work thinking I would have tried to take it easy and not wear my eyes out in front of bleeding pc.
I mean, I have quite a load of work to do here and I thought I would have felt guilty if I had stayed home taking care of my misterious bacterical eye. I'll go to work and try to have a quiet day, I thought. Ha!

9.03. The King of Morons calls me

K.o.M- Ehm.....ehm.....er....
me - HELLO????
K.o.M - yeah... right.... hello. Have you done all I've asked you to do?
me (remembering our last conversation) - not yet, as I told you yesterday before leaving the office, I need some 4 hours... (For Christ's sake! It's 9.03 and I'm sure the only active neuron you have is the one you're using to piss me off like this!!!)
K.oM. - oh.. so you haven't done it yet, have you?
me (through clenched teeth and with the fakest of the smiles) - correct. 4 hours from now and it'll be ready. so, I'll send you everything by 1 p.m.
K.o.M - mmmmmm....1 p.m........ does that mean that I'll have an email from you by 1 p.m?
me (with my right eye itching and my left eye trembling from anger) - .....yes....
K.o.M - oh. so it'll take 4 hours from now, right?
me - (lying on the floor with my mouth full of greyish muddy foam) positive.

After 2 hours - yes my friends, 2 hours - he calls me again

K.o.M - er.....Phi?
me (you dialled MY number, asshole, who the hell do you want it to be, Roger Rabbit?) - yes..
K.o.M - Have you completed the job?
me - .......... (deep breath) ........... (silent prayer to the god of employees) ........... NO. NOT YET.
K.o.M - (disappointed) oh. And WHEN do you think you'll be able to send me an email, then?
me (while trying to steal my only good eye with a plastic spoon) - you'll have all you need (=a cruel death, an electroshock, one or two months with just my wages to make a living..) by 1 p.m. I must have forgotten telling you (I'm dripping sarchasm and I'm stunned that the phone is not burning)
K.o.M - ok ok ok (even more disappointed) but I don't want you to call me at 5 to 1 p.m. to tell me that you've had a problem and my file won't be updated because of it!
me - don't you worry. I've never ever told you anything like that... Why should I have troubles today (I mean, apart from the fact that I'll kill you and end my days in jail?) Your file will be perfect by 1 p.m.
K.o.M - I hope so
me - and I hope you'll get hit by a truck and that the truck driver will fuck the shit out of you before soaking you in petrol and lighting a match. bye.

ok, I may have added the last line. But wouldn't it have been a perfect punchline?

I've told you some things about the people I work for. I've told you about the Company Ravishing Annual Party and their attitude about that. But that's not enough. There are some peculiar things about this firm that I feel I must share with everyone of you. The company that currently pays for my cats' food and for my Harry Potter dvd's is run by a family. Something in between the Addams, the Simpsons (only Homer and Granpa) and Dickens' Scrooge.

The father He's totally nuts. And I don't mean the kind of funny man who people would laugh at.. I'd say he's more of the "get on your knees and worship me, I'm the king of the universe" kind of dangerous crazy ones. Which is not so uncommon here in Italy - just take a look at our Premier. Anyway, he wears these glasses with a ridiculous frame with a colour that can be anything from Canary Yellow to Vomit Green and paces the rooms like a frantic ogre, which is not a good sight on a Monday morning. One of his favourite activities is to scare the shit out of everyone of us. Believe me, I'm not so easy to scare - and this has always been quite a problem with people like these - but as my contract has to be renewed in a few months I must keep calm and try not to "roundkick him to death" as some of the lads here would say.

The son #1 AKA my boss. He's 35, pretty disgusting, and with all the symptoms of a severe coke addiction. Otherwise, they could just be the first signs of the family madness, don't know. Anyway he works harder than anyone else here and it wouldn't be fair of me if I said he's just an asshole. Which he is. Most of the times. But he's not so bad, in the end.

Know you all expected the Holy Ghost to be the 3rd... but here he comes The son #2 In fact there's not so much to say about him. He's 33 and is abroad for most of the time. Most of all because he's so lazy he'd die if he really had to work. Travelling around the globe purchasing undescribably crappy items is not really a job for him. It's more like making all your relatives' effort about this firm worth a damn.

The son #3 Better known as the King of Morons. Short. Ugly as no one can say. Stinky. Ignorant. Bossy. 31 years of ugliness concentrated in a disturbing, disgusting freak. And he'll be my only co-worker during this week, as my boss is on a holiday and K.o.M needs help to sort out some problems. I mean JOB problems. As for the rest he's hopeless. This morning he showed up with an apple-green sweater worn INSIDE OUT (labels and seams happily on sight) on a deep-green face, try to figure the impact on my stomach.

Sometimes I wonder if they're like the Pharaos, you know cousin-married-to-cousin and stuff, so that after a few generations the results are some unbelievable freaks.. Go figure. This must be the only explanation. I'm working for Tutankhamon's nephews.
So.Please. Come and rescue me out of this pyramid. Do not believe to those silly rumors about curses. There's nothing like that.

I hope.

.. in a river or a creek but it wouldn't thrill me half as much as dancing cheek to cheek..

He was 46 at that time. He had a wife, two sons, a great job, a sucking life. The full package.

I was 29. No children, no satisfaction at work, no satisfaction in bed. The full package.

We both thought at first that the passion between us wouldn't have gone further than that: a strong attraction, a mischievous funny game we had played during our first visit into a chat website.
And I wouldn't be fair if I said Goldfish took advantage on me. I ran into our affair full speed, just like him, and we both ended up head over heels.
I loved his humour and his savoir faire. He liked my wit and my charme. We were perfect together, and this showed from our very first meeting.

We met as often as we could, I always had my suitcase ready and don't know how many hours I spent in different airports during those years..

Living in different cities spared us all that crap about meeting by chance in a mall, me with my friends, him with his family... Jeez, I could have died... But, as every woman who's ever loved a married man knows, he wasn't there for Christmas, nor for my birthday and so on. I soon grew tired of the absence but couldn't make without him and his affection. You know, it's the same old story..

We had 4 years of deep love, marvellous trips around Italy and great sex. He made me hungry for him like I had never been before, we spent hours in bed, laughing, cuddling and making the most intimate love we had had in all our life. Once we both fell asleep while kissing and woke up hours later, our lips still sealed in the sweetest of the kisses. That is actually one of the most tender moments I recall, opening our eyes in amazement and hugging tight before making love again.
We bought each other tons of books and other little presents, we talked about anything, from politics to religion, from art to food.
We're both of the gourmet kind, and every time we ate out we really had a ball.

We tried breaking up several times, but always ended up meeting again, sooner or later.

About one year ago we broke up for good.

He is a very good person. But, though he's a great father, he's a total wreck of an adult partner.
Younger than his wife, he's still childish when it comes to relationships.
He's totally unable to manage his feelings AND his life, and the road from his brain to his heart is still a total bumpy mess.

We're in touch again, now that I can talk to him with my heart beating slow and my emotions in control. He still says that I really move him, that my voice over the phone makes him tremble in emotion... yep. Right. But our time is over and I - at least - know it.

I don't regret a single tear I've shed for him, neither I feel any remorse for having been involved with a married man for so long. His marriage didn't need me to be considered a farce. I'm thankful for all the happiness I felt and all the things I've come to know about myself and my reactions and emotions as a woman and a human being. Even if it took me eons, some 15 lbs lost and a bleeding heart to tear him from me.

Now I've learnt a useful lesson about my deepest needs and while he's still there fancing tender memories I prefer to live a real life.

As good as it gets.

Summer of 2003 was a hard one to go through. My love life was getting flushed down the toilet, the only job I found was in a call center and I had no weekends and no holidays like the rest of my friends. When I was free they worked, when I worked they were free. So I had quite a lot of spare time to spend with myself.

After the German asshole, Bee had just started going out with another man, a mild sweet eyed Indian guy, short and thin. She's quite tall, buxom and rather fat... I'll spare you all the evil jokes we all made about him breaking his bones when in bed under her... yeah, we're a bunch of buggers, at times...

During those months I wrote a huge amount of stuff for the cooking lessons I wanted to start in autumn, and - in all modesty - I did a great job. I even learned to use new tools on my pc to make a leafleat and some other advertising material. We had no money at all, but I was very driven and when I really love something I could climb the mountains... All this material was given to print and had a great success wherever we showed it.

It took me quite a while to convince Bee that we could make it with the lessons, as she didn't feel comfortable at the idea of speaking "in public" and teaching - she's more of the silent artist kind - but she couldn't deny the facts: the idea was good and the time had come for us to actually DO something.


So, after a few months' preparation, the classes started. We had two different groups of people, and it was very good for a start. The lessons turned up to be very funny and interesting, we were different but complementary and people really enjoyed themselves while learning. The kitchen was colorful and lively with fresh vegetables, I made some arrangements with different cereal grains (black rice, barley, corn and so on), she put bunches of wheat ears around the room... Jeez.. it was a feast!

The courses ended in late May 2004 and as in April I had started my current job - but hadn't quit with the call center yet - I often worked from 8 am to midnight. So, while I was dead tired and trying hard to survive my two jobs, she thought well to throw loyalty and trust out of the window and secretly started another course. All by herself. The devil teaches us his tricks but not how to hide them, so one evening Minnie told me to have seen Bee showing off "her" success about the last course.. That was the last straw.

I felt naive, betrayed, angry, sad, let down and anything you may think about.

It took me months to simply talk about this to my friends. And lots of counselling sessions to learn that - simple as that - signs were there from the start. Things went the only way they could. I could have been wiser, smarter, whatever, but the truth was I had needed her as a friend, and I had needed to prove myself I could make it with the lessons.

In the end, I'm not angry anymore. There are times when I miss her. Times when I long for our time together, our talks and all those cold winter evenings spent on her couch, a cup of tea and the warmth of a family.

That's why, when she called me last week, I anwered quietly and, since she asked, gave her my home number. I perfectly knew she wasn't going to call me despite saying the contrary.

You see, as generous as she can be, she'll never be trustworthy. And that's what brings this story to an end.