...devi tentare, perché se non hai mai tentato, non hai vissuto.
sabato 21 gennaio 2012
You want to find someone who will pick you up from the airport. It’s such a kind gesture but also one you would expect from someone who loved you a reasonable amount. The thought of having to wait for a shuttle while others are embracing their loved ones on the curb might just be too much for your little heart to bear. Where’s your car full of love? Where are the people who are going to make you feel welcome in this city? And, no, you are NOT going to take a taxi. You have too many friends who like you WAY too much for you to be taking that nonsense. Right? Hello? I’M AT TERMINAL 3. WHERE ARE THE PEOPLE THAT LOVE ME? Dear god, people have started to hug on the curb. Come quick!
You want to live closer to your parents. It’s not because you need to see them more. God no! Who would ever do a thing like that? It’s for if you everwanted to see them. If their health took a turn for the worse, god forbid, or if you ever felt lonely and needed to just sleep in a home that felt warm and loved, you could do it. Living far away from them has its advantages but you’re starting to realize how much you miss out on by being on the opposite end of the country. If you lived in the same city as your parents, feeling safe and secure would just be one phone call and a twenty minute drive away.
You want to be “stable” and see yourself make real progress. You would love to find the key to adulthood (Um, I think I saw it at Crate & Barrel next to the colanders) and not want to get drunk at happy hour anymore. It’s quickly turning into unhappy hour and you’re trying hard not to become a casualty of your age. You want nothing more than just to make it through the twentysomething rain and land on a nice job, a nice couch that wasn’t purchased from IKEA, and, most importantly, someone’s nice dick and/ or vagina.
You want to develop a backbone and start saying no to having lunch with the random friend from high school. In fact, you want to abolish “catch up” lunches altogether. People are either in your life as it happens or not in it at all. Sitting through these elaborate brunches with people who once meant something to you but no longer make sense, and talking about how great your lives are going while reflecting on the good ol’ days is a slow form of masochistic torture. It feels like performance art: *INSERT SMILE HERE* and *INSERT “I’M IN A REALLY GOOD PLACE. HOW ABOUT YOU?” HERE*. You’ve been through so many lunches like this that you could practically do them in your sleep. In fact, you should probably just arrive to the restaurant 15 minutes early and place a giant stuffed animal in the chair in place of you and run out before your old school chum arrives. Don’t worry, they won’t notice! You can even attach a tape recorder and have it come on intermittently to say things like, “You look great! Can I have the Egg’s Benedict?” Or my personal fave catch-up topic, “I saw on Facebook that you two broke up. What happened?”
You want to know that you’re not insane, that there are other 24-year-olds have never been in a relationship before, or that other people have gotten too drunk and vomited on their taxi driver before and it’s all okay because this is growing up. Or something. You’re not actually sure. You never received an official manual but you figure that this is what it’s all about — feeling alienated and vomiting on strangers and never having as much sex as you would like. You just want to know that the things you’re going through aren’t unique, that other people are in the same rickety brokedown palace of a boat. I mean, you don’t mind being crazy so long as there are people out there who are equally as psycho. You’d prefer it if they were actually crazier than you, so you could feel good about yourself and where you’re at in your life.
You want a job, a vacation, heath insurance, validation, a back rub, a scalp massage at the place where you get your haircut, people who are jealous of you, an ex who won’t stop texting you when they’re drunk, Twitter followers, happiness maybe sorta, someone to buy you lunch at a fancy restaurant, a mentor who can tell you what the hell to do with your life, a reliable internet connection, a reliable human connection, a gift card to the grocery store, dinner parties with friends where everyone will pretend to have their crap together for just one night, a nice flirty text message to wake up to every morning for the rest of your life, for everyone to like you even if you don’t like anyone, and one of those nights that doesn’t end till 9 AM and reminds you what it feels like to be young and alive. Oh, and $$$. That’s all. Think you can get that for me? For us?
venerdì 20 gennaio 2012
"Don't swear in the Literal Heart of Jesus," Gus said.
"Goddamn it," Isaac said again. He raised his head and swallowed. "Hazel, can I get a hand here?"
I'd forgotten he couldn't make his own way back to the circle. I got up, placed his hand on my arm, and walked him slowly back to the chair next to Gus where I'd been sitting. Then I walked up to the podium and unfolded the piece of papere on which I'd printed my eulogy.
"My name is Hazel. Augustus Waters was the great star-crossed love of my life. Ours was an epic love story, and I won't be able to get more than a sentence into it without disappearing into a puddle of tears. Gus knew. Gus knows. I will not tell you our love story, because - like all real love stories - it will die with us, as it should. I'd hoped that he'd be eulogizing me, because there's no one I'd rather have..." I started crying. "Okay, how not to cry. How am I - okay. Okay."
I took a few breaths and went back to the page. "I can't talk about our love story, so I will talk about math. I am not a mathematician, but I know this: There are infinite numbers between 0 and 1. There's .1 and .12 and .112 and an infinite collection of others. Of course, there is a bigger infinite set of numbers between 0 and 2, or between 0 and a million. Some infinities are bigger than other infinities. A writer we used to like taught us that. There are days, many of them, when I resent the size of my unbounded set. I want more numbers than I'm likely to get, and God, I want more numbers for Augustus Water than he got. But, Gus, my love, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for our little infinity. I wouldn't trade it for the world. You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I'm grateful"
[un libro toccante. Da leggere tutto d'un fiato. Che ti porta alle lacrime e non riesci a fermarti. Ma se c'è qualcosa che vale realmente la pena di leggere, è questa.]
giovedì 19 gennaio 2012
Perché poi mia madre s'incazza quando dico che noi (intesi come nucleo familiare di madre, padre e figlia) la prenderemo sempre nel culo dai parenti più stretti.
Perché noi corriamo sempre quando c'è bisogno, ma mai un grazie. O un crepa. O un vaffanculo.
L'ultima beffa l'ho scoperta proprio un quarto d'ora fa.
Per la laurea mia nonna paterna mi darà cinquecento euro, a quanto pare. Ma non solo a me, anche ai figli di mio zio con nomi da soap perché se no la cosa non è equa. E poi, io non ne ho bisogno quanto loro.
Tralasciando l'ultima frase che è un'emerita cazzata, allora non dirmi neanche che sono per la laurea! Che senso ha darmi dei soldi giustificandoli con il pezzo di carta che prenderò, se poi li dai anche agli altri due nipoti che hanno la metà dei miei anni e quindi tante care cose prima che inizino anche solo a frequentare l'università?!
Tralasciando il fatto che abitano sopra di te e neanche ti chiamano nonna. Né tanto meno ti salutano.
mercoledì 18 gennaio 2012
Tempo di cambiamenti, questo.
Tra poco più di un mese sarò laureata e mi ritrovo a pensare: cosa farò della mia vita? Continuerò a studiare? Rimarrò a Milano? Andrò a vivere da sola? Ma dove?
C'è una mezza idea di un lavoro in Svizzera, per una grande casa di moda. Sempre che mi prendano, il che è improbabile ma non impossibile. Mai perdere la speranza, no?
Nel mentre vado a correre, ricomincio a guidare e smetto di fumare. Come già detto in passato, il duemiladodici sarà l'anno della mia rinascita, voglio essere una persona completamente nuova, di cui andare fiera.
Se mi manca qualcuno? A volte, ma non mi riferisco a Daniele. Lui ha cercato di tornare sui suoi passi (gettando subito la spugna, tra l'altro), ma io gli ho dato picche. Ho sempre pensato che, per fortuna, al mondo esistono le seconde possibilità, ma lui mi ha fatto troppo male per meritarla. L'ho sempre trattato come un Dio in terra e alla mia prima presa di potere la sua risposta è stata "non provo più niente per te" ma, ora che io sto bene senza di lui, mi viene a dire che gli manco.
Penso che ci siano dei momenti in cui una persona ti scade talmente tanto che ogni tentativo di ripresa dei rapporti sia vano. Non ho più quel tuffo al cuore quando lo sento o lo penso, anzi. Sta arrivando al punto di essere una di quelle persone assillanti che non riesci a toglierti di dosso.
Però sì, qualcuno mi manca. Per quanto stia bene da sola, mi diverta e sia più serena, vorrei avere qualcuno al mio fianco. Quella sicurezza sia fisica che mentale che solo un'altra persona può dare.
lunedì 2 gennaio 2012
Ecco i miei propositi:
- smettere di fumare;
- ricominciare a guidare seriamente;
- dimagrire 15 kg;
- [ovviamente laurearmi e, possibilmente, trovare un lavoro in breve tempo];
- e come ho detto altrove: trovare un friend with benefits soddisfacente.
Il duemiladodici sarà l'anno della mia rinascita. Araba Fenice mode: on.