I have re-emerged! I have my doubts that anyone actually reads this, but who knows! Tonight, at least, I am writing for my own mental and emotional well-being, regardless of who's toes I might step on. Tonight, I am that most cliche and taboo "bitter single woman." And yet can you blame me? Here I sit, in my pajamas on a Saturday night watching reruns of Frasier. Now, I'm not so vain as to think that I'm anyone's Angelina Jolie (do those women even exist?), but I like to think of myself as at least semi-attractive. And anyone who has ever tasted anything I've baked has always followed it with, "wow, you are going to make someone a great wife one day!" Both trivial things to be sure, but would you believe me if I said that I also have a great personality? All this, irrelevant. Because the fact of the matter is, I've seen what is on the market nowadays, and quite frankly, I prefer Frasier and my pajamas.
I have met the workaholics. The otherwise kind, romantic gentlemen who I'm sure would be charming dates if only you can pry them away from their Blackberry long enough to have an actual conversation. And no matter how charming you might have been, you can forget a second date; it was a sheer blessing from the dating gods that you found a gap in their schedule that they could go out the first time. To try and tempt fate again would be just too much. Perfect husbands I'm sure for the wives who would rather see their husband's money than their husbands, but not for me.
And then of course we have the opposite, the "artistic," "free-spirited" ones who spend the entire date talking about themselves, their feelings, their dreams. Quite an easy date really, but really more suited for the deaf mute than the vibrant, intelligent female like myself. And don't get me wrong, I love a stroll in the park as much as the next romantic, but on multiple dates to avoid paying for meals...not nearly as effective.
I've dated the sentimentalists, usually just coming out of a long relationship, wanting to take things slow...unless of course you're willing to come back to their place tonight for a drink. Eventually, though, no matter how sweet they seem, some old flame will call them back one day, and all of the sudden its, "Oh, I hope I didn't give you the wrong impression." Of course you didn't. You're a man. I get it. Same thing with the overly anxious room-workers who ooze self-confidence out of every pore, only usually that self-confidence pushes the fast forward button on the whole thing and its over within the week.
Of course there is no way that I can cover all of you lovely specimens (yes, bad pun intended) out there. But I would be remiss to leave out the good guy, the friend, the sweet little back-up plan that waits himself right into a groomsman position at the love of his life's wedding. Here is where I am a bit reluctant to say it, because I know guys like you well, but I'm going to anyway: no woman wants a timid man. We want to be the demure, coy, elusive ones. And dammit, we want you to chase us, to fight for us, to sweat and struggle for us. Granted that you, gentlemen, will get turned down. No questions about it. But if she isn't worth the feeling of rejection, then she wasn't worth going after. More plainly put, if you don't have the balls to ask her out, then maybe you aren't really that into her.
I know we live in a day and age where it is perfectly acceptable for a woman to ask a man out on a date. And I thoroughly resent it. Men, how can you allow us to emasculate you like this? What an opportunity to show us how bold and daring, how adventurous you are. Not to mention how caring...to shelter us from the possibility of having to face rejection. How could you let us take that away from you? I, for one, refuse to do so.
Of course, the classic argument would be that I am tearing down all these stereotypes without giving a realistic ideal to put back up in their place. And that is because, honestly, I haven't met him yet, so I can't tell you what he is. I am not, at least in this respect, a perfectionist...I like to think of myself as a realist, and that I do understand at least a little bit about men. A love for sports/action movies/video games/other forms of controlled violence, (we'll call it) "appreciation" for the female anatomy and it's...diversions, cringes of disgust and fear at the slightest mention of emotions, and an awed incomprehension (humor me) of the female brain and its idiosyncrasies.
I will say of this last one that I do find for the most part it is from a sheer lack of effort on the part of men that they don't "understand" women. Most of the time, though we try to be "supportive," we hate your bowling trophies as much as you hate our shoe fetish, which is why its helpful if men and women have time away from each other to do things that only men or only women seem to like to do. But in the time that you men do spend with us, for goodness sake, at least try to be a little romantic. We won't take you to the mall on a shoe expedition if you don't take us to a sports bar to watch that "big game" (unless of course you are one of those brave women who is actually into that...in which case, kudos). But men, do your homework. If you seriously don't know what women want, then invest the time and money and rent a chick-flick (think of it as an educational experience...or a conversation starter...or a way to get laid...whatever). We're not as difficult as you make us out to be...at least not in the beginning.
Perhaps you think me foolish and old-fashioned, and that is perfectly fine with me. Maybe you think I am being unfair, and I am...but you know what, I have a right to be. Because IF I ever decide to enter into wedded bliss, it is going to be with a man as close to my ideal as I can find. In my beliefs, this is something you only get one shot at (or at least, only one at a time), its not something to be taken lightly, and I believe its something I can afford to be a little picky about. And if that means that I end up in my 40s watching Frasier in my pjs on Saturday nights, then so be it!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Journey to Bethlehem
Finally, I've made it home for Christmas Break! As I sit in my room on the second floor of my house, I have a clear view of the centurion soldier riding up and down the street on his horse, and I can hear the census taker blowing his trumpet as the line of cars idle by. Let me explain.
I live in a tee-tiny little town, on the corner of my block, next to a Presbyterian church. On a normal day, my street is so quiet you could lay down in the middle of the road for hours and not have to worry about getting run over (and yes, we've been bored enough to test this theory on many occasions). But for three nights out of the year, the tiny little church in this tiny little town puts on what is called "Journey to Bethlehem," which is a spectacular reproduction of Mary and Joseph's trip to Bethlehem and the birth of the baby Jesus, complete with live animals (the aforementioned horse, as well as donkeys and sheep) and spotlight-star shining up over the manger. Cars line both sides of the block for hours to drive through the scenes; so many cars that the town's police had to start coming out to direct the flow of traffic and add lanes to the small unmarked road using traffic cones. Needless to say, it has become quite a popular event around the area.
I suppose it's partly because it is such a great production to put people in the Christmas spirit that we don't mind being trapped in our house all evening for one weekend out of the year. Yup, trapped. As I mentioned, we live on the corner, and we have 3 driveways...but on this one weekend, the way that they route traffic blocks both of our front driveways with people waiting in line to go in, and our back driveway as people exit out the back. So we're completely hedged in by a line of traffic on a block that barely sees any action at all most days of the week. It's different, to say the least. But it's a worthwhile sacrifice to make to allow the "Journey" to continue. It has gone on for many years now, and we go through it every year, because it is such a great reminder of why we celebrate Christmas at all. And whether you are 'religious' or not, it really doesn't matter...the love, joy, humility, and hope that the Christmas story represents are as relevant today as they were over 2000 years ago.
I live in a tee-tiny little town, on the corner of my block, next to a Presbyterian church. On a normal day, my street is so quiet you could lay down in the middle of the road for hours and not have to worry about getting run over (and yes, we've been bored enough to test this theory on many occasions). But for three nights out of the year, the tiny little church in this tiny little town puts on what is called "Journey to Bethlehem," which is a spectacular reproduction of Mary and Joseph's trip to Bethlehem and the birth of the baby Jesus, complete with live animals (the aforementioned horse, as well as donkeys and sheep) and spotlight-star shining up over the manger. Cars line both sides of the block for hours to drive through the scenes; so many cars that the town's police had to start coming out to direct the flow of traffic and add lanes to the small unmarked road using traffic cones. Needless to say, it has become quite a popular event around the area.
I suppose it's partly because it is such a great production to put people in the Christmas spirit that we don't mind being trapped in our house all evening for one weekend out of the year. Yup, trapped. As I mentioned, we live on the corner, and we have 3 driveways...but on this one weekend, the way that they route traffic blocks both of our front driveways with people waiting in line to go in, and our back driveway as people exit out the back. So we're completely hedged in by a line of traffic on a block that barely sees any action at all most days of the week. It's different, to say the least. But it's a worthwhile sacrifice to make to allow the "Journey" to continue. It has gone on for many years now, and we go through it every year, because it is such a great reminder of why we celebrate Christmas at all. And whether you are 'religious' or not, it really doesn't matter...the love, joy, humility, and hope that the Christmas story represents are as relevant today as they were over 2000 years ago.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
"So...Italian major...what are you going to do with that???"
If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that response...I could pay for grad school! I'm not going to lie, it's beginning to get a little bit old. Not that it's going to change my mind, I love where I am and I would not change it for the world. I'm not asking anyone to understand that, but anyone who is truly passionate about what they do knows what I'm talking about, and I pity anyone that is doing something they are not passionate about.
What bothers me a smidge is how people minimize me as a person because of my major...as if I'm doing Italian because I couldn't do law school or med school or whatever else it is that is considered to be so fantastic. Maybe that's the problem with colleges in general...they put way too much emphasis on classifying you by your major, until you become a number within a group of English majors or History majors or whatnot. I understand the need for specialization, and even the desire for it by students (God knows I would die if I had to take another math or science class!), but somewhere along the way, to use a cliche', you can't see the tree for the forrest. In other words, people begin to look at students based on their academic grouping and ignoring the things that make them unique. Sure, I'm a proud Italian major, and I love it, but it's only a small part of who I am as a person.
I'll end my rant shortly, because I have a Beethoven exam to study for, but I suppose the point I would like to make is for goodness' sake...get to know people! Your teachers, your friends/acquaintances, your parents, your grocery clerk, your mailman...people are more than their titles, and maybe I'm wrong here, but I can speak at least for myself: they have a deep desire to be known, to have others recognize them for who they are and appreciate them, to have other people witness and share their lives.
On a slightly different note, I've had a suggestion to write blogs in Italian, which I would LOVE to do, but that would severely limit my readership...which defeats the purpose a little, no? Chissa', maybe I'll try it someday, for now I'll just throw out little Italian phrases here and there, and kudos to anyone who takes the time to figure them out ;) !
Sogni d'oro!
What bothers me a smidge is how people minimize me as a person because of my major...as if I'm doing Italian because I couldn't do law school or med school or whatever else it is that is considered to be so fantastic. Maybe that's the problem with colleges in general...they put way too much emphasis on classifying you by your major, until you become a number within a group of English majors or History majors or whatnot. I understand the need for specialization, and even the desire for it by students (God knows I would die if I had to take another math or science class!), but somewhere along the way, to use a cliche', you can't see the tree for the forrest. In other words, people begin to look at students based on their academic grouping and ignoring the things that make them unique. Sure, I'm a proud Italian major, and I love it, but it's only a small part of who I am as a person.
I'll end my rant shortly, because I have a Beethoven exam to study for, but I suppose the point I would like to make is for goodness' sake...get to know people! Your teachers, your friends/acquaintances, your parents, your grocery clerk, your mailman...people are more than their titles, and maybe I'm wrong here, but I can speak at least for myself: they have a deep desire to be known, to have others recognize them for who they are and appreciate them, to have other people witness and share their lives.
On a slightly different note, I've had a suggestion to write blogs in Italian, which I would LOVE to do, but that would severely limit my readership...which defeats the purpose a little, no? Chissa', maybe I'll try it someday, for now I'll just throw out little Italian phrases here and there, and kudos to anyone who takes the time to figure them out ;) !
Sogni d'oro!
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Ciao!
So, I've never been much of a blogger...but I have an hour to kill and exams to study for, so I figured, what the heck? My best friend actually met her current boyfriend through some kind of online journal type thing, so she is always talking about that. Not that I think or even want anything like that to happen for me...we'll just call it a sense of curiosity. I have my doubts that anyone will even read this blog, but at the very least, it should be somewhat therapeutic, no? I have never blogged before, and I am a firm believer in trying new things, so why not?
Now that we've commenced with the obligatory randomness, I guess I should talk a little bit about myself. I am an Italian student at UNC (as in I study all things Italian, not of Italian descent) getting ready to study abroad and apply for grad school. Thus the name of my blog, frivolezze...it's an Italian word that means "trifles" or "frivolities"...kind of what I consider this blog to be for me. How I stumbled upon the Italian major here is a thing unbeknownst even to me, I can't really explain it without sounding flighty or uncommittal. I knew that I wanted to take Italian as my foreign language to fufill my general ed. requirements, because I had been to Italy with my family and loved it, and the language is just so beautiful! So I was sitting in my Italian 101 class on a crisp Fall day, and my professor (a grad student by the name of Cale, to whom I am eternally grateful) decided to give a lecture on culture, including the mafia, in Southern Italy. From that moment on, I was hooked! That, as well as a book I read at the same time called "Christ Stopped at Eboli," a fantastic work which I would recommend to anyone. It could almost be compared to a blog of the 1940s in Italy. Carlo Levi, the author, had been exiled to a small villiage in the South of Italy, and the book gives an account of his daily life and interactions with the people of the region, still heavily under the influence of the feudalism which survived in the south well into the 1900s. The characters are so real, you find yourself enveloped in the story. So, between the two, I quickly developed a strong love for the language and culture of Southern Italy. Specifically, however, my interests have gone a little over to the dark side, as most of my studies now involve the development and influences of the mafia in Sicily, mostly from a historical standpoint...it's a bit dangerous to to a current events study of the mafia, at any point. No cement shoes for me, please.
I also teach piano lessons in Durham (which I am not fully convinced is a separate city from Chapel Hill). I have 12 wonderful little piano students, ranging in age from 6 to 12, who definately keep me on my toes, as a pianist and as a teacher! I have played the piano for about 13 years now, which sounds, to me anyway, like a longer time than it actually is in the grand scheme of things. I have only really been able to play what I have wanted to play for the past 6 or 7 years...the first bit was just learning the skills and music reading abilities needed to get to a point where I could start working on developing and perfecting certain aspects of my playing. I have never really been comfortable performing, I'm not really sure why. I have never gotten a bad review, and any concert I've given in the past always yielded tons of compliments on my style and expression. But I get so gosh darn nervous! My knees shake so badly that I can barely press the pedals, and I don't enjoy it for being so nervous. Maybe one day I will "grow out of" the nerves, but in the meantime, I play for myself, whoever can hear me through the closed practice room doors, my family, and my students. Speaking of whom, I had the extreme honor and privilege yesterday of playing a piece for one of my students, who composed her first piece of music, something her teacher hasn't even been able to accomplish yet! I have never been more proud! We spent about 20 minutes of her hour lesson yesterday just working through the first bit she had come up with, writing it down on manuscript paper and working with the chords to go along with her melody, and what a blessing it was for me as a teacher to be able to give her the tools so that hopefully one day she can share her music with the world! Maybe I'm being sentimental, but its my blog and I'm entitled. It has always fascinated me the idea of how one person can hear a song in their head, play it, write it down on a man-made system of bars and lines, and all of the sudden anyone in the world can now play and hear and love the melody that began in someone's head! Music truly is the universal language.
On that somewhat sappy note, I am going to have to wrap up for right now and head off to a meeting.
Tanti auguri!
Now that we've commenced with the obligatory randomness, I guess I should talk a little bit about myself. I am an Italian student at UNC (as in I study all things Italian, not of Italian descent) getting ready to study abroad and apply for grad school. Thus the name of my blog, frivolezze...it's an Italian word that means "trifles" or "frivolities"...kind of what I consider this blog to be for me. How I stumbled upon the Italian major here is a thing unbeknownst even to me, I can't really explain it without sounding flighty or uncommittal. I knew that I wanted to take Italian as my foreign language to fufill my general ed. requirements, because I had been to Italy with my family and loved it, and the language is just so beautiful! So I was sitting in my Italian 101 class on a crisp Fall day, and my professor (a grad student by the name of Cale, to whom I am eternally grateful) decided to give a lecture on culture, including the mafia, in Southern Italy. From that moment on, I was hooked! That, as well as a book I read at the same time called "Christ Stopped at Eboli," a fantastic work which I would recommend to anyone. It could almost be compared to a blog of the 1940s in Italy. Carlo Levi, the author, had been exiled to a small villiage in the South of Italy, and the book gives an account of his daily life and interactions with the people of the region, still heavily under the influence of the feudalism which survived in the south well into the 1900s. The characters are so real, you find yourself enveloped in the story. So, between the two, I quickly developed a strong love for the language and culture of Southern Italy. Specifically, however, my interests have gone a little over to the dark side, as most of my studies now involve the development and influences of the mafia in Sicily, mostly from a historical standpoint...it's a bit dangerous to to a current events study of the mafia, at any point. No cement shoes for me, please.
I also teach piano lessons in Durham (which I am not fully convinced is a separate city from Chapel Hill). I have 12 wonderful little piano students, ranging in age from 6 to 12, who definately keep me on my toes, as a pianist and as a teacher! I have played the piano for about 13 years now, which sounds, to me anyway, like a longer time than it actually is in the grand scheme of things. I have only really been able to play what I have wanted to play for the past 6 or 7 years...the first bit was just learning the skills and music reading abilities needed to get to a point where I could start working on developing and perfecting certain aspects of my playing. I have never really been comfortable performing, I'm not really sure why. I have never gotten a bad review, and any concert I've given in the past always yielded tons of compliments on my style and expression. But I get so gosh darn nervous! My knees shake so badly that I can barely press the pedals, and I don't enjoy it for being so nervous. Maybe one day I will "grow out of" the nerves, but in the meantime, I play for myself, whoever can hear me through the closed practice room doors, my family, and my students. Speaking of whom, I had the extreme honor and privilege yesterday of playing a piece for one of my students, who composed her first piece of music, something her teacher hasn't even been able to accomplish yet! I have never been more proud! We spent about 20 minutes of her hour lesson yesterday just working through the first bit she had come up with, writing it down on manuscript paper and working with the chords to go along with her melody, and what a blessing it was for me as a teacher to be able to give her the tools so that hopefully one day she can share her music with the world! Maybe I'm being sentimental, but its my blog and I'm entitled. It has always fascinated me the idea of how one person can hear a song in their head, play it, write it down on a man-made system of bars and lines, and all of the sudden anyone in the world can now play and hear and love the melody that began in someone's head! Music truly is the universal language.
On that somewhat sappy note, I am going to have to wrap up for right now and head off to a meeting.
Tanti auguri!
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