I've been listening to Italo-dance and other Eurodance music and just being crushed under the weight of memories. Way to waste a day! I did manage to write a few paragraphs so I must be getting somewhere. But you know you're feeling melancholic when Gigi D'agostino's Come Fly With Me makes you tear up! I need to visit Italy before I completely fall apart.
I've been reading my previous posts from 2004-2005 and it feels as if another person wrote them. I had some talent.
... so I walk into the kosher liquor store and say "Hi, do you have any limoncello?" the store owner stares at me questioningly. "Limoncello" I repeat "do you have any?" - "Oh, lemon-se-llo?" - "Yes..."
We visited Pottery Barn because I saw some affordable glassware on their website. I had never entered the store before because I thought it was an extremely overpriced yuppie hangout. We did see $1500.00 armchairs but some of the housewares were perfectly affordable and I'm afraid I'm going to have to go back again and buy more, more more.
My beautiful girl is now four months old. She grasps objects and tries to suck on them, getting frustrated when they are too large. Baby girl is a constant wonder.
I'm posting on my orphaned blog for lack of anything better to do. My computer is really p###ing me off, I will have to send it in for fan replacement.
Interesting changes have occurred, it turns out that life happens to everyone, no matter how different or alienated one might feel. The difference is in the methods used to get through it, but this is all rhetorical oft-chewed upon pseudo philosophy.
Commutes leave a heavy toll on me, but they do make time fly.
I don't think I will ever feel very much at home in America, home of the brave and free obese ignoramuses. Err, sorry about that. Of course, coming here I had the advantage of language, relatives and acquaintances. But fitting in is another story. I doubt anyone other than my husband will ever understand me here. My children might, to some degree, but they'll be bringing America to the house. I will try my best to teach them the languages, the mentality, the culture. I think I understand the people and understand why they don't get me. I understand why they ask all the usual questions as if I were like them. I understand why people constantly express surprise at the fact that there actually are Jews living in Italy, land of spaghetti and shoes. Why people are amazed that my English is better. I get it, but will they ever get me? I don' think so, I've never really fit in. I always found refuge in the homes of relatives, who would talk about comfortable things like my family and other relatives. Away from dangerous topics like what do you think about the health food craze and do Italians really eat pasta all the time?
I picked up my laptop from the repair station this morning. On the way out, the guy who checked my bag noticed I was all bundled up (it snowed earlier this morning) and asked if it was still very cold outside.
Me: Oh yes, it's cold. Him: Do you like it when it is this cold? Me: I like the cold, but not when it's too cold. Where I come from, it doesn't get this cold. Him: Oh, where are you from? Me: Italy Him: Belize? Me: Italy Him:Ahh... Me: Well take care, have a nice day
As I exited the store, a well dressed middle aged man came running after me.
Man: (In Italian) You're from Italy? Me (mildly surprised) Yes...are you? Man:Yes, where from? Me: Rome. Man: Me too...well I've been in Venice for some time but I'm from Rome. (Shaking my hand) Piacere....Renato (I didn't give my name, why do people bother to introduce themselves while knowing they'll never be seeing you again?) Me: Nice...do you live in NY? Man: No, just here on business. And you, you live here? Me: Yes Man: I see... so what brought you here? Me: (shrugging)Work....got married... (I am about to turn the corner) Man: Ah well, good luck and have a nice day as they say here! Me: Thanks, you too...