I’ve been here for 2 and a half months… feels like a lifetime. Still fell really funny and unsure about the future. Want to stay… can’t believe I really live here. Without a decent job- feel like I still don’t. In a world where everything is up in the air- I have one decision made. I have rented my apartment out in the states thru the fall- till thanksgiving-ish I think. So there’s that.
Been missing the states a lot in the past week. It was rainy and shitty for a few days there, and all I wanted to do was crawl into a movie theater and watch movies all day. Just wanted to show up unannounced at my parents house and see what was in the fridge, wanted to meet Carter and Nikky for happy hour in Venice, get Chinese with Damaris and watch bad TV.
The only movie in playing in English here is called “the Jacket” but it looks a little scary for my taste. I hate that I am too much of a pussy to handle scary movies. Such a problem… a whole genre of movies I can’t enjoy. Not fair. So I sat at home and watched movie trailers on the internet… pathetic, I know, but it worked. I watched like 40 fucking trailers, I’m not kidding. I just needed SOMETHING. You know?
Found a pair of sox today that I haven’t worn yet here. I know this because they are soft. Soft like laundry from back home- laundry at moms house, washed, softened, dried with dryer sheets. I almost don’t want to put them on. They are so delicious. And they are the last of the soft stuff. You can’t believe how stiff towels can be… like drying off with sandpaper really. We adjust though… we change.
They don’t sell zip lock bags here. I have about 8. I reuse them. I clean them out- let them dry and save them. I used to blow thru those fuckers. Funny how little things change in a foreign place.
I still so much feel like a foreigner. I straneri. (The strangers.) That’s what we are: us ex-pats. Here in Rome, looking for work, looking to escape whatever reality we all have at home. There is a very strange energy one attains when living in a foreign land: broader, more interested, the black sheep of all of our families, and yet- there is always this quiet numb silent hum- that constantly runs thru all of us… we are not at home. We are strangers in a strange land. No matter how long you live here, how fluent your Italian is… we remain ALWAYS I straneri.
The Italian youth is exceptionally hard to crack. Men befriend you because they want to fuck you, and the women just can’t be bothered to deal with you at all. Even in the slickest of LA clubs, I was never THIS invisible… The Italian culture is so odd. They are all such fuckin mama’s boys, and the girls are all so jealous and weird. It is totally commonplace here for a single guy to live with his mother until he is well into his 30s. Till, basically he finds a wife and moves downstairs from his mother- and now the wife will wait on him. It’s pretty archaic shit.
I think I thought the rules didn’t apply to me. Like I would be able to break thru all the other molds, all the traditions. What a crock of shit, I feel a little foolish. EVERYONE says it’s hard to get work- why then do I still believe these rules don’t apply to me? What is this hopeless optimism/ stupidity / irreverency… this hubris….
My family, aka “Team America” have been sending me packages. Thanks to them, I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich the other day… holy creamy delightful heavenly bliss. (And I don’t even like PB and J that much)… it was just SO GOOD. Ummm. But Carter- the little lamb that he is, tapes TV for me and sends it to me to watch on my computer. Last week I got 5 episodes of Lost, 3 episodes of the OC, and deadwood.
It’s really fun. And it is, the only time that silent numb of unfamiliatry lifts- only for an hour at a time. I have a really hard time watching the commercials, they freak me out- hearing about upcoming shows on Fox, or ABC or some fucking shit… it’s weird. And while I watch I am totally on my couch at home, Tivo remote in hand… absorbed. And then it’s over and I think- whoa… I’m still in Rome. I had forgotten for a minute.
It’s the strangest. And I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not. When shoni came she brought a bunch of trashy mags- us, people…etc. and at first it was like- YES…. But after about 15 seconds- I just thought… who fucking cares, and I feel like my life is better without all this crap… there is a part of me that misses it, and another part of me that simply can’t be bothered- past it, over it, that is a part of my old life… But there is comfort in that garbage. And sometimes I miss it.
Cinnamon gum. That’s what I miss the most these days. Cinnamon gum. And mail. As always drier sheets- in fact just a drier. God dam cat hair… how I adore the lint tray… never knew my love for it till I didn’t have one.
Here life in Rome pushes on. I have gotten past the honeymoon stage, realized that on these travels- I brought myself… great.
Organizing a ladies night… have found some good bitches, and I’m gonna take em all out and have a good time. Seems like fun.
Looking for work under every rock. Just don’t want to settle- want so much out of life- I know there is an opportunity for me here… its why I came. Still looking for it- undeterred… but a little tired admittedly. But relentless. Like the eternal flame. If I want it bad enough it WILL emerge. IT WILL. I just have to keep repeating that….
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