La storia di una ragazza non italiana

Queste post sara in italiano - in onore alla bella Italia che tanto mi mancha. Forze avro qualche sbaglio, non e la mia prima lingua...ma voglio imparare di piu...non solo la lingua, ma imparare il suo umore, il modo di vivere....voglio....voglio diventare italiana...

Quando sono stata in Italia l'italiani mi hanno insegnato tantisme cose - come amare il arte, le cose semplice... e come fare delle cose semplice arte,

Le perzone italiane hanno tante emozioni...loro conosciono che e la felicita, la tristezza...e vedenno quelli emozione di maniera salubre.

Andare all' Italia e come andare al psichiatra si c'e lai dei problemi emozionali. Mi a ha fatto molto bene.

Grazie Italia. In especiale, grazie Roma. Ti adoro. Adesso e per sempre.

Falling in Love with Art ain't Easy

Art is not an easy thing to love. There is a level of sensitivity that you have to have, a level of eccentric-ness you have to posses, in order to understand Art. And even then, you won't understand art in it's entirety.

It's like trying to understand a mystery. We might be able to reach our own conclusion to it but in reality it will never be solved - there isn't one absolute truth to any mystery in life. And if there were I don't think we are meant to find it.

Therefore to love art is to undergo a turbulent relationship. To love an artist is even worse. Maybe that's why I don't let myself fall in love with someone or vice-versa...I enjoy tranquility. I even enjoy the desire to achive love but in reality never loving.

Which is probably why my art is so messed up...

A Taste from the Past

Songs and smells are known to trigger our memories but what about taste?

Today I had strawberry milk. Suddenly I wasn't in my little kitchen anymore but back at home, holding my Mum's hand as we walked out of the supermarket while I sipped on a small carton box of strawberry milk.

I used to get spoiled whenever I went to the supermarket. Mostly it was done with the intention of shutting me up.

The taste reminded me of the mild sunny weather of my hometown in spring and the laid back atmosphere it gave off.

Of course, I got caught up in the emotion and went to the nearest world foods market and bought a can of Guarana.

It reminded me of my road trips to Brazil in summer before Christmas. We'd stop at the botanic garden on the way up north for our picnic of sandwiches and guarana (which we'd buy at the gas station) and watch the koi fish and monkeys that lived within the glass greenhouse.

While I was at it I decided to buy a bottle of cider and create a new memory. Now I'll remember sitting on the little white steps of my first home, looking at a white picket fence covered in ivy and listening to Pavarotti's rendition of Ave Maria.

The Gentleman

When he leans back on the armchair and his deep colored eyes shoot across the room to gaze into mine...

When he smiles that mysterious boyish smile, holding the door open for me to pass by...

And when he puts both arms on either side of my head to protect me from the crowd on the bus, with his strong chest bumping gently agaisnt mine, his warm breath tickling my ear and that earthy scent of his filling my senses...

I get very, very excited.

Viva for the well bred gentleman! Watch out for the diguised Don Juan.

I'm Alice in Wonderland

Today I became Alice. I took a nap in the sun at the bottom of my dead hydrangea garden, lulled to sleep by the sound of a lost bumblebee.

I woke up at 6pm, with the sun setting in the background. Groggy eyed I met with the stare of the neighborhood cat. I got up, grabbed my blanket and it followed. We had tea.

A few days back I discovered a hill in the middle of my neighborhood. It overlooks the city and my quiet little suburb. I felt like I was in the countryside looking down on gray human monstrosities.

Before the hill I discovered a cherry blossom garden with a brick castle behind it. It was tucked in behind some bushes and stones. My friend, the Queen of Hearts, had been with me at the time. She'd come for a day visit and we decided to tour the town. As usual we'd talk about the game. I don't care much for the game anymore, although I like to glance occasionally at the deal. I might play when I get a good hand.

For now I've got my hands full chasing a white rabbit.

A Fleeting Romance

He spoke - softly, husky, confident. I blushed - shy, nervous, excited.
Petals played with the hem of my dress and fell. We never met again.

A Secret Garden - shhh!

I want to find my secret garden, but it's hidden and I lost the key. When I do find it I'll befriend a Robin and Dickon will help me grow the roses. We'll have gardenias and lythianthus and many animals to frolick around with.

I'll name the goat Beckham.

The Prelude to a Spring Tempest

I love the rain. Apparently so does the earth. It trembles in anticipation for the heavens to let loose, making the daffodils and cherry blossoms that line my way back home sway in pre-orgasmic bliss.

Suddenly my surroundings become quiet and I look up at the overcast sky. A raindrop lands on my forehead, like an open mouthed kiss. I can't help but smile. It's as if the weather is teasing me.

The Wind, poignant with Spring's fragrance, threads through my long hair, brushing it aside and trailing cold, dry kisses down my neck. It whispers into my ear sweet words of nothingness. It pulls back as I pass under an oaktree. It's gotten tired of me and leaves to play with a wind chime instead. I listen to the breathless tinkling sounds, my cheeks still flushed pink from the wind's chilly caress...

I took some pictures of my neighbor's flower tree. I'm not sure what it's called but it looked magnificent bathed in silver light.

Now I'm back home, trembling in anticipation along with the earth, the daffodils and the cherry blossoms, waiting for it to rain.

An Early Day

7:00 am - I wake up and the birds are singing. It smells fresh outside and it's still a little chilly from the nighttime shadows. I wrap my alpaca sweater round me and snuggle into it.

I make breakfast. Hot oatmeal, a cup of coffee and luscious strawberries. I listen to a robin and watch the morning rays greet my neighborhood. The little old man next door has come out to fetch his newspaper. I wave while sipping my coffee.

I'll be tottering off to university soon.

A Penguin as Big as Me

I have a friend who thought penguins were as big as her.
I wondered what kind of penguins she'd seen.

A Dance Partner

I went out dancing the other night. I hadn't meant to dance but the girls found a dance floor at the back of an uncrowded bar and dragged me onto it.

Then the boys came, prowling around our little dance circle. One of them took my hand, twirling me around and into his arms. I followed, deciding it might be fun. It was.

I love a good dance partner. They know how to make you forget everything but the beat and their smile.

My first time salsa dancing I had been clumsy but eager. My partner had been patient. If I messed up I would laugh - he seemed to like that, guiding me softly by the waist back into rhythm and grinning to himself in amusement. It had been a while since I'd met a man who knew how to lead while dancing. It was refreshing.

At the bar that night I danced hip-hop for the first time. The guy who had pulled me out from amongst my friends was light on his feet and knew how to move my body against his. Unfortunately my second partner wasn't as good as my first. He was drunk, so his mouth did the talking and his feet didn't. He wasn't interested in dancing, so I retreated back into my little circle of girls.

A good dance partner is attractive. If you are a man, knowing how to dance says something about you. No, not that you're a sissy. I can barely call capoeira dancers and tango dancers sissys. They radiate power. And any man that can dance radiates confidence. Confidence is incredibley sexy.

Read: Why Women Find Dancing Attractive or Jeanie Lerche Davis' Men Who Dance Well May be more Desirable as Mates.

A Welcome

A smile. A handshake. A kiss. A respectful bow.

Welcome.

No matter how you welcome someone, a geniune welcome will always be felt and well recieved. People will open up to you because you are inviting them into your life. Welcome them back and it will be the start of a beautiful relationship.

So welcome to my blog. Please come by anytime. If you enjoy simple moments and the joy they bring, I'm sure you'll find a home here.

Cheers!