And feeling isn’t just about having feelings.

And feeling isn’t just about having feelings. It is about life and sleep and eat and touch; these are parts of what it means to be an human being with an aspiration to live fully. We can benefit from them- senses, feelings. We can be more aware of our potential, the possibility of eternity. If we can make people feel that simple things in life are always going to be an important part of their happiness, then we would be success for Earth.

This is no fantastical world where I see...

This is no fantastical world where I see my neighbors from the window, and I’ve got no comment about them, I don’t know their names, I hardly remember their faces. The vase where the Christmas tree is dying is still covered by decorations but the woman of the 4th floor, of via Vasari, Trieste, didn’t see it, like so I can’t hear the sound the spoon makes when the old woman of the 6th floor stirs a hot soup cool faster, for me it makes no sound though I see it.

And I’m not replacing real life and I don’t think imagination is doing a bad job, whatsoever. I indulge in the beauty of the simple things in life. How I wish I had a different perspective, like people who have put their creativity to some kind of practical use, if I were more than a simple contemplative person I could give myself a sense of …opportunity?

I’m interested in almost anything. I find happiness in almost everything.  And the trouble with me is I love stories- but where do they fit in? I wonder what use are tales in a world that bows down to data, engineering, hard facts-but neither my neighbors have an answer, their role is that of being silent characters of a story offered to me, they’re like tales still intact in my eyes, it feels their warm, narrow, sense of solitude, cheerfulness, deep, feelings grow and gently disappear at sunset.

The sleepiness.

 I’m sitting, in my room, tens of  thousands of pages to correct and to write. If I were to have a break, what would be doing? Writing, again. But dreaming, would be nice.

In dream, any will is incapacitated, and worries, over-thinking, become impossible there.  The  sleepiness. I’m sitting, in my room, possessed by a good spirit that encourages me to correct  thousands of pages, and in a break I write about dreaming, and the result is independent of dream, there must be a remembrance of previous thinking and of survival thoughts of mine. What am I saying? The  sleepiness. The awareness of being sleepy.

I never feel comfortable having birthdays

I never feel comfortable having birthdays, but it seems I can’t decide whether to have it or not- I might decide to celebrate it but it doesn’t change much my feelings. It was never my intention to attempt definitive account of how I feel the day before my birthday- but I have always felt like I have no control. As I grew older and more conscious about myself, about what I’d like to do, the situation sometimes makes me feel inadequate, and it starts being necessary to start writing in order to fix ideas, to become panoramic.

Maybe there is a part of me that considers, as me being an aspiring writer, I should be doing more . . . I don’t know – insisting more? Writing more?  

I might have considered the writing issue too many times, the unfathomable thing about it- my desire it being my job- in the last three years, is that you never know whether you’ll be loved or not. You never know if you be successful. You just have to be doing it every day as exercise. I don’t seem to have forgotten about my dream,  but I’ve wondered how  can somebody who doesn’t know  me could be interested in my life, in my tales? All I offer are feelings, reveries,  and I admit I can’t give the sort of conversation you usually hear in glamour bars, nor in the most visited blogs, let alone the sort that I rarely take part in parties. And I’ve never been very interested in gossip.

You’d think I might love discussing of some of these issues about life, feelings. Well, not really. I seldom rehearse details about me, about how I feel, but I do listen to others a lot, and accurately. I sometimes wish I talked more. Plus, in week-ends, flatmates are away, and  I talk even less than usual, I sort of live in silence. Only when I write, it seems to me language exists, that words exist, they give a form to feelings and they mean something. To me. How I wish words told me now how to be feeling, to be doing the day before my birthday. But fortunately this day is expiring in 30 minutes, and I’ll watch the passing minutes become my birthday.

Aw I am not that somber but...

Most days I use to mess around in the centre to have a fast walk, or for the everyday shopping , anytime I feel amazed by Trieste. I know, compared to other cities it’s tiny, and probably it doesn’t offer many opportunities to young  ones. But, I’ve lived in the province of  Como and I might just as well have lived in any village in Italy … mine was that kind of village, with that kind of entertainments  —valleys and woods - where there’s nothing around that could help you remember you are a social human being.
 These days, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I am supposed to do after graduate, I look at every corner of the city I feel anytime amazed, yes, but I don’t get much of a clue about my future.
It’s my birthday, soon, in 2 days, and I’ve just decided I should be prepared to be departing, to be going away from here —or at least, it’s not something I’ve decided to be doing, it’s more a thing I’ve understood I must do.  I’ll allow myself to walk fast here around , admiring a place I should be saying farewell.

Imagination

I know that sounds unbelievable, but that is how I’ve already began to think of it: how I wish he was waiting for me, how I wish he would be alone, nobody  around, no noises for my attention.

The presence of other people wouldn’t have disturbed me too much, but I just wish I had an opportunity to know him. Ok, that will never happen to me; but I allow my imagination run away with me and let my mind surrounded to fantasies. I’ll keep myself aware of life’s things, of reality, ok, and I’ll work on things to be done and finished, but occasionally in front of the windows and the doors where’ve met him- and I know it sounds unbelievable and sweet- I’ll let imagination come with its cozy fantasies and I shall not close the shutters of my alert eyes, so I can tie myself to reality,  but I let myself dream of sweet and unbelievable tales. I’ll evoke my best capacity to imagination with strength and I will not make my head raise from my duties- I only make of my joyful thoughts a warm feeling.

11 purposes for 2013

Then, my wishes, all-time, or 2013 at least, top 11 most desirable purposes, in casual order:

Regain my English (forgotten) skills of language

Write a lot- even more than before

Keep good relations, respect my flat mates and learn by them anything they can offer me

Keep genuine relations with my friends- and tell them, anytime I’m offered the possibility , that I love them

Do anything to keep myself healthy

Do my best to get back in touch with my family

Read- read oodles of books

Love

Graduate

Keep a peaceful soul

Work, in everyday life, to prevent conflicts from arising and help myself in being serene

Ok, as a human being , in order to fulfill the promises listed above, my training should allow for the exercise of perseverance- but I think I need companions, allies of the soul, I need friends.

Since we are given the possibility to evolve, I’d like to follow the impulse, to seek the Authentic within myself. Every day, I try to add new elements, new inspirations for the activity of the mind- and the spirit, of course. I want to be in harmony with nature.

I spent thirty minutes putting these words together. To me, writing on a blog is like departing for a holiday- there are suitcases to be packed, clothes to choose,  lists of things to be brought with me, …

Plus I’ve tried it in English and I did a lot of rethinking and starting again. I wanted it to be a decent writing, because … to be honest, I have studied English a lot, I’ve had such good teachers and I should be doing my best with what I was given. Ok, all I can offer are words, I hope they can work for somebody else as well- somehow.

With Love, E