I tried to quit…

I tried to quit laziness.

It sounds silly, but it is my main problem! On some days, I feel so mentally tired that I cannot bring myself to get up and do all I need to, so I limit myself to performing the strictly necessary tasks -but that is not good enough for anyone!

Obviously, my attempt did not quite work… however, I got a lot better at bringing myself to do things when I decided that, when I am in that mood, if I do not do what I should be doing, I should at least be spending my time doing something that benefits me – exercising.

I found the exercising routine I used for my days without training (when I was in a synchronized swimming team, big time) and stuck it on the wardrobe, so that it reminds me of my options. Two birds with a stone: I am more productive because I cannot do that killing routine five times a day, and I feel better because of the exercise I actually do!

 

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Concentration

I’m back to ear plugs.

I really should not, because of the middle-ear infection that has not been completely cured by the antibiotics since I found out I was allergic to them and had to stop taking them.

Yet, I am, because I need complete silence to focus on this presentation for my music publishing module at Uni. I honestly have no idea what I am going to talk about for fifteen minutes and I really should focus on my planning… but no, because the pain in my ears is killing me.

Yes, just another post for venting. I like being a nice person in real life, that’s why I started this blog in the first place.

 

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Siamo una squadra fortissimi [cit.]

I have never wanted to go swimming so much as I do now that I have a horrible skin rash (and it would not be wise to immerse it in chlorine). And five minutes ago I had a long long reasoning I wanted to write down about the stupidity of making decisions in the wrong moments et cetera et cetera, but I cannot remember all of it now.

 

Obviously, there are lots more things I could do with my free time -read more than the basic reading for my degree, read a book on British colonialism I just borrowed from the library, knit, write a letter to my mum, listen to City & Colour rather than Nomadi, get started on my presentation, which I will deliver in ten days… the more I think about all these things I could do, the more I just want to go back to bed and sleep for hours. It must be said that I have taken two tablets of Ibuprofen earlier -I am not usually THIS lazy. So, here I am, writing my blog, that I had neglected for so long.

I had thought about posting about yoga, relaxing activities and warm baths, but all the inspiration went down the drain when it took me half an hour to clean the oats out of the bath tub (the doctor suggested an oatmeal bath for my rash. He clearly isn’t the one who keeps the house clean and tidy).

Then I wrote a post in my head, on stress curves and negative feedback. But it didn’t come back to me when I was in front of the blank page on screen.

All of the other ideas were based on writing down many reasons of complaints, but I complain enough in real life to waste my writing time doing the same thing.

 

Also, I chose this title because that was the song I was listening to when I logged on WordPress: Checco Zalone, “Siamo una squadra fortissimi”. Do not use it to learn Italian grammar, but it’s a funny song.

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Seagulls time

Today I was woken up by the screams of seagulls outside my window at… 10.53! I think it is the first time in the last year that I wake up this late. I feel like half of my day has gone already and I have wasted so much time -on the other hand, I closed my laptop at 5am after having drawn a plan of my next essay, listened to a bit of new music and answered to a couple of e-mails, so in fact I have not ‘wasted’ that much. 

There have been lots of things going on recently, mostly bad things that annoy me and would annoy and bore you, lovely readers, to death if I began my narration: so I will not even attempt to summarise. I will focus on the AMAZING things instead:

first of all… I am back here writing! I know, with an average of 70 views/post this isn’t exactly material for the morning news, but it makes me happy anyway.

And then, which is what is occupying most of my time and energy recently, thanks to one of my modules at University, I get to co-run a small indie record label with two coursemates. We are on FB and Twitter at the moment and we are working with this one amazing artist, who writes the nicest and quirki-est lyrics: more details if you look at all our online pages (linked in the previous line, but here you are: https://www.facebook.com/C3URoundTableRecords ; https://twitter.com/C3URoundtable )!

 

 

Oh and the title of this post comes from the fact that I decided to write something on this blog when I realised that I now take for granted that I will hear seagulls in the morning, while I did not use to before, well, moving to a seaside town!

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The Greengrocer (translation of an… interesting song)

I have been away for a while. Busy times, not enough time to focus on writing and nothing cheerful to write about. But now I’m back!

I will continue with the Alphabet thing, but now I am compelled to write because I have just listened to a song by Italian artists Dargen D’Amico, Fedez and Mistico. A friend was laughing when she told me to listen to it because it was a funny one, so I opened YouTube and found “Bocciofili”: here you go http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2CWEuYdnPbQ . To everybody’s benefit (and because I feel like focusing strongly on something, so a good, hard translation is just what I need right now) I will report the lyrics and try and explain how they can be funny through my best attempt at a translation. It will be quite obvious how they can be offensive too -I do not know whether the artists meant for them to be ironic or not. I certainly hope they did.

Fai come l’ortolano

Fai come l’ortolano

Fai come l’ortolano

Fai come l’ortolano -ano-ano…

Do what a greengrocer does

Be like a greengrocer

Be like a greengrocer

Be like a greengrocer

Be like a greengrocer….

Quando ti vedo vado fuori di testa e sbrago

prima ti bacio e poi ti spiego il perchè

oh mamma marasciona oh mamma madonna

oh mamma ma tocco con mano come Maradona

tu sei una fuoriclasse nel ballo sulle casse

fai l’onda con la schiena, catalizzi la scena

la luna ci abbandona e il sole ci incorona

il mattino ti dona mostri quanto sei bona.

When I see you I go nuts and I get enthusiast [regional slang term; can indicate ‘excited’ with a sexual connotation]

First I kiss you then I explain

Oh God dear God oh God my God

Oh God dear God I touch with my hand like Maradona [rhymes; refers to the ‘mythical’ figure of the uninhibited footballer]

You are a champion [football terminology] at dancing on these amps

Your back ‘flutters’ wave-like, the lights are on you

The moon leaves and the sun crowns us

The morning light looks good on you, it shows how ‘fuckable’ you are

Mettimi questi meloni in mano, fai come l’ortolano

che non ne posso più di andare piano

esci quelle bocce che le voglio cospargere con l’olio

ho voglia di svuotarmi il portafoglio.

Put those melons of yours in my hands [derogatory slang term for ‘boobs’], be like a greengrocer

’cause I’ve had enough of going slow

take out those bocce [literally ‘bowls’; meaning a set of balls, each of which is usually as big as to fit in the palm of a man’s hand; here, slang term for ‘boobs’] because I want to scatter them with oil [to make the bocce run more smoothly , as the aim of the game is to throw your boccia as close to a central ‘boccino’ as possible. To be intended sexually in the context]

I want to run out of money

Entro nel locale e loro sono lì con te

mi guardano con gli occhi di chi vuole un tête-à-tête

mi chiedo se c’è un corso di danza per decolletè

perchè le tue tette ballano molto meglio di te

I enter the club and they [your boobs] are there with you,

they look at me like he who wants a tête-à-tête [direct confrontation; also, allitteration with “tette”/’boobs’]

I wonder, is there a dance course for decolletes?

Because your boobs can dance better than you

Rime per metá serie e per metaforiche

tra meloni di plastiche e verdure macrobiotiche

guarda che capisco le esigenze fisiologiche

non giri mezza nuda hai le tette claustrofobiche

bevi un cocktail che tutto passa

ma non sono come gli altri, sono sensibilissimo

Ti sembri brutta, ti vedi grassa?

Non ti preoccupare ci vedi benissimo.

Rhymes half serious and half-phorical [wordplay based on alliterations; if I come up with a good translation, I will correct this literal one]

among plastic melons [=> breast implants] and macrobiotic veggies [many possible meanings; possibly, the line relates to ‘modern women”s tendency to adopt alternative ‘healthier’ life styles; it could also refer to the female protagonist’s reluctance at sleeping with the singer, or to other men’s lack of masculinity]

You see, I understand these physiological needs:

it isn’t that you walk around half-naked: it’s that your boobs are claustrophobic.

Drink a cocktail and everything will be all right,

I am not like the others, I am so sensitive:

do you see yourself ugly, do you see yourself fat?

Don’t worry, your sight is absolutely perfect.

Mettimi questi meloni in mano, fai come l’ortolano

che non ne posso più di andare piano

esci quelle bocce che le voglio cospargere con l’olio

ho voglia di svuotarmi il portafoglio.

Put those melons of yours in my hands, be like a greengrocer

’cause I’ve had enough of going slow

take out those bocce because I want to scatter them with oil

I want to run out of money

Sia quando parli, sia quando balli

hai la folla intorno come in combattimenti dei galli

e se mi fissi a lungo, tiro dentro la pancia

e se mi chiedi il peso, mento: falso in bilancia

Ma se ne versa un altro, mostro la mia dieta in pista

Di sobrio ho solo il vestito, non saprei centrare un buco

Andiamo a letto con l’aiuto delle mappe di Google.

When you talk, when you dance

The crowd gathers around you like people at gamecocks fights

And if you stare at me long enough, I suck in my belly;

and if you ask me my weight, I lie: I cooked the books

[‘falso in bilanciO’ means ‘to commit accounting fraud’; but ‘bilanciA’ means ‘scale’]

But if I have one more drink, I will show my diet on the dancefloor

The only sober thing on me is my clothing, I wouldn’t be able to find the hole [sexual reference. Obviously]

We can make it with the help of Google Maps.

Mettimi questi meloni in mano, fai come l’ortolano

che non ne posso più di andare piano

esci quelle bocce che le voglio cospargere con l’olio

ho voglia di svuotarmi il portafoglio.

Put those melons of yours in my hands, be like a greengrocer

’cause I’ve had enough of going slow

take out those bocce because I want to scatter them with oil

I want to run out of money

E se davvero non ti piaccio

Berremo fino al punto che

Ti sembreró Gabriel Garko

e tu mi sembrerai Belen

E se i meloni non li esci

e la patana men che mai

ridammi subito i miei cashi

ci pagheró il canone Rai.

And if you really do not fancy me,

we will drink until

I will look to you like Gabriel Garko

and you will look to me like Belen

And if you don’t take out those melons,

And you’re even less likely to uncover that potato [slang for ‘vagina’. I used the gullible ‘potato’ in my translation because it is fundamental to keep the ‘greengrocer’ metaphor, although the regional slang the singer uses only comes close to the more diffused ‘pataTa’=’potato’]

Then gimme back my monies

I could pay my TV licence.

Draw your own conclusions, I feel sick.

PS: This post has not been proof read. I apologies for big mistakes; I will look over it again soon, promise.

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I know something now I didn’t before

When I was eight, we moved from Dalmine San Giuseppe to Mariano di Dalmine. Those are two different areas of the same city, which, if I am right, is composed of seven major areas, each of which includes a few neighbourhoods. Each one of those seven areas is in competition with the other ones, and with one especially -Mariano competes with the neighbouring Brembo. So much that when Brembo’s football team played against Mariano’s, my middle school mates were actually arguing over the match (I supported Mariano because it was my favourite classmate’s team). And there is a lot of close-mindedness and bigotry as well, since each area behaves, and thinks, as if it were a village rather than part of an actual city.

 

So tonight I went for a brief walk in my neighbourhood in Mariano.

The lady who used to have two cats and three dogs, that I would greet on my way back home from school every day (and on Thursdays I always happened to see the lady herself and we had a little chat), now only has two dogs. So sad… but she still remembers me and greeted me enthusiastically, so we exchanged a few words.

Opposite her house used to live one of my classmates in middle school, S. He was a very nice guy, who got bullied during our first year (when we were 11/12) because he was overweight; then he became kind of cool because he played the guitar quite well, but, unlike the other cool guys, was still very nice and up for a chat with everyone. But today, outside his house, there was not his family, but other people I have never seen before. S. has moved out and… well, we still used to have a quick chat if we met around Mariano, but if he moved anywhere else we will never meet. That’s sad.

And then I went on -after the crossroad, there is an old house with a fat black cat always lying around in the garden, and then a house owned by an old lady who has a dog and who once asked me to help her taking out the bins because she could not manage. And after that time, we would always chat as well, generally on those mornings when my first lesson had been cancelled and I was at the bus stop close to her house later than usual. And today… well, today the dog was not there and there was a young couple sitting in the garden; I know for sure that she only has a daughter, who should be not younger than forty, and lives quite far from her. I do not want to have a confirmation of my fears!

And at the end of that road, if you turn right, you will find yourself in a house that was said to be my music teacher’s. Prof M. was by far my favourite teacher in middle school, because he knew that my classmates were never going to pay attention to him so he kept discipline by engaging them as much as possible. And he led the rehearsals for the school’s band on Mondays, which was my favourite time of the week during middle school. As I have mentioned before, I did not really enjoy the mornings because I definitely was unpopular -and could not even play the guitar, unlike S., only the recorder… which was enough to take part in the school band anyway-; but there were a few cool people on Monday afternoons, such as G., who I found as a classmate in secondary school when my original class was dismembered, S. about whom I have talked, and D. who was the Mariano’s supporter. And L. and A., who were quite nice as well. Basically, every person to have been nice to me in the third and last year of middle school was participating in that band, so it is easy to understand why I liked my music teacher so much, since he convinced me to take part in the band even if I could not manage anything more than a recorder!

But in his garden there was none of his family. So incredibly sad, again!

And when I turned that corner, it was to meet eyes with C., a lovely girl I was close friends with during the summer after we had left middle school, but with whom I have had the only big row I have ever had with a friend. Which still remains unsolved to this day…, so meeting her was embarrassing, weird, irritating and… SAD. So much sadness just from a fifteen minutes walk, what has my life come to!?

BUT THEN… then I saw L. and A.’s mate at middle school, M., passing by on his motorbike, as he used to do when we all were fourteen. The best moment of the day was when we waved at each other!

And while we are on memory lane…, earlier this week I also happened to meet one of my primary school’s classmates, S. I am ashamed of this, but my group of friends (which related more to the ‘bad kids’ than to the ‘Hermione’ I became in middle school) used to make fun of him for his ‘Snorlax’ figure. Well… he is the nicest guy ever, good to talk with, funny, with a lots of interests, a bit disorganised and chaotic but definitely the best to spend a night out with!
I may have had my bike stolen and noticed everything in my neighbourhood had changed, but this week was not a complete failure!

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D: Lives on the line where dreams are found and lost / I’ll be there on time and I’ll pay the cost / For wanting things that can only be found…

I do honestly most sincerely from the bottom of my heart apologise for not posting daily. I think this daily blog thing may not be made for me -I will surely post twice a week, though. Let’s try how it works out for me if I decide to post on Wednesdays and Sundays then!

Also, this specific post has been very hard to design. When I decided to begin this blog series, I talked about it with my sister, who helped me finding a few ‘temporary’ titles I may want to use in it. Of course, as you will notice while we go on with the alphabet, a few choices may be unpopular or silly (and those are completely my fault), whereas some others may leave you in awe and surprise (probably, that was one of my sister’s suggestions…).

But for the letter “D”, well… this in particular has been a hard one. After beginning the series with the Beatles (and it made sense for me; I could not have begun with Vasco Rossi‘s “Albachiara”, even if that was the song that my classmates have always associated with me… I will post about it at some point!, and I could not even have begun with “Abacab”, although it crossed my mind because I used to love it, and it introduced me to my only singer crush; and not even with “All I want for Christmas is you”, even if it would have brought me a few more ‘clicks’ -oh, by the way: thank you, everyone and anyone who has ever clicked, read, liked, followed this blog. It makes me feel a little bit more like a person with a brain and a little less like a rambling shit!)…, after beginning the series with the Beatles, I was saying, continuing with the Ramones (I will admit I was a bit shy. Who the hell am I to write about those songs?!) and going on with such a cool musical as Moulin Rouge, I was sure I wanted to talk about Bruce Springsteen. But specifically about which song?

When I was younger and my mum used to comment “oh I love this song, I absolutely love U2” I would obviously make a mental note to hate U2 with all my resources. It was my mum’s music, I mean!

Then, luckily enough, I grew up and borrowed CDs from my uncle… and once he was like “Oh, that was what your mum used to go crazy for. I still have all of her CDs somewhere, I will find them for you for the next time we see each other”, and gave me “Born in the U.S.A.”. It took me a couple of weeks before putting it in my walkman (oh I loved my walkman… how much I cried when it broke! Its corpse is still in my drawer.), and then I loved it. To the point that I hummed “Downbound train” to myself on my way from school -at middle school I was the uncool-est person of the whole institute; I confide you will understand that I’d rather listening to my own high pitched voice humming a tune in the wrong range rather than to the people following me on my way home! Also, “Downbound train” has very easy lyrics, that I could remember even if I had only studied English for a couple of years (up to the year before, in fact, I was so proud of myself because my sister, who was studying English since her first year of primary school, had taught me the numbers, the months and a few simple sentences. Then I arrived into my class and EVERYONE had taken five years of English at their primary schools, fuck you very much!).

However, “Downbound train” was my favourite song on the whole album for a lot, and it still is, because of the memories! But my mum’s favourite was “Dancing in the dark”. She would talk about how much she was surprised in seeing that Bruce, at his gigs, took girls up on stage to dance with him, and she would sing along to the song when I put the CD on in the car.

And in those occasions, I would always skip the third track, “Darlington county” -I still do not really like it. It was useful, in a way, since a few years ago I wondered what a ‘county’ was… and it was cool, because it was in my English exam. The relief!

Anyway, the following time when I met my uncle, he remembered to bring me all of my mum’s old Bruce Springsteen’s CDs. My mum’s favourite is “Nebraska”, but I have never (shame on me!) listened to it to the end. I was immediately captured by “Darkness on the edge of town” -I mean, have you listened to it? I still put on “Prove it all night” when I feel down. But the first time I listened to it I was home alone, after a particularly bad day at school that had brought me to have a massive row with my family, who had then decided to go doing the shopping without me. So the best track for me in that moment was definitely the title track!

Do you see why it was so hard to decide which Springsteen song beginning with D I wanted to write about?

See you on Sunday with the E!

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