enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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Just some ideas

HI friends,

I slept late today. I had a marvelous plan to go to the gym, but I woke up feeling groggy. It is also really, really cold outside.

So I set about organizing a few more photos. This is one area in which C. is at once annoying and helpful. He wants to go to the printing shop today, and he wants me to have everything organized.

I was going through my Florence pics, and almost every one makes me feel happy but emotional. I find it very interesting to review my folders from each trip, in the sense that each trip conjures up a completely different feeling.

When I open up the folder from the first trip, for example, I feel the same feeling of freshness and exhilaration that I did then. I mean, it's truly, unmistakeably Proustian. I feel incredibly young and maybe even a bit naive. Silly, I know. It was only two years ago. Still, I feel quite differently now. I remember how much I had wanted to go back to Florence and couldn't bring myself to do it before I did on that trip, and I partially credit Fifi with this fact. I remember distinctly her saying to me when I was waffling, "Go to Italy. You've been talking about Italy."

So I did. And thank goodness I did.

And of course there was meeting Marco. I have one photo that sums it all up perfectly. It was from a morning on which he dropped me off early at the top of the hill above San Miniato, as he had to get back out to the country. I walked slowly down the hill in my high heels (!). No one was yet up, and the streets reflected that. I took a picture of a spoon that was lying on the sidewalk. It reminded me of that W3akerthans song entitled "Left and L3aving."

And there is the picture of me with the poster tube outside of Santa Croce that Jan, my English-Australian, thrice-divorced "I have an enormous sexual appetite" friend took. The poster guy had been so desperate to sell me the poster that he had run all over the square trying to find a poster tube. He'd found one in a shop nearby. He had come running back and I not only felt compelled to give him an enormous tip, but to take a photo with him. I love the expression of openness on my face, because it's what Florence does to me. No - it accepts that about me.

And then there are the pics of Joan and I at the opera in the fall. That was a fun trip, although entirely different.

There is the Christmas/New Year's trip, that was profoundly fun because it was more adventuresome. Some of my best photos came from that trip - e.g. the ones of Venice - since the light was perfect. And maybe I was even more open, as I was more vulnerable.

The most puzzling and painful trip was the longer one that I took last May. it was painful because Marco didn't call me on my birthday. I got a great deal from the trip, art-wise, but I can tell from the few photos that I was struggling a bit with life, expectations, the course I am going to take. Oh well - had to go through it.

And then there was the glorious trip that I took in October, which felt and feels like my most mature trip. It coincided with me cutting my hair short, which is always a good baromter for my confidence (more on this later). I felt divinely comfortable and happy on that trip. I think that October might be my favourite month in Florence. Marco had told me that the first time I met him - that that was the best month - but I didn't quite believe him. I couldn't imagine what could outdo the glories of spring.

Maybe I'm an autumn-winter person. It is true that the quality of the light during that time paints a mood in photos and paintings that feels natural to me. Nevertheless, in a general sense, I feel as though I am a spring person. Perhaps we're attached to our month of birth.

I just sent of a note to the BI to see if they have any places available in the intensive Italian courses for April and May. I haven't yet received permission to go, of course, but I figure that in the minimum I'll be able to go for two weeks. I would, of course, prefer a month. I need to think things through a bit. I desperately want to go in April, but May has its appeal. I mean, if I go in April for such a long time I will have no trip to look forward to until probably close to Christmas (unless I steal a week in October around Thanksgiving and pop across the pond).

I know I'm rambling. I'm a spoiled brat. It's all so glorious and wonderful and I can't believe that I get to live this life. I believe, as I think of it, that I've gotten everything I ever really wanted as a child (apart from becoming a history professor).

More good things to come, I am convinced.

Incidentally, I am struggling as to what to do with my hair. Why I am obsessed with my hair, I do not know, but it is truly a point of entry for anxiety for me. I don't understand it. Do I go back to a bob or do I keep it short? I'm currently in between. I hate that stage.

I can't help but think, "Silly girl."

I am a silly girl.

11:43 a.m. - 2010-01-30

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