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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Friends, blogs and living in Italy

Confession:

I must tell you that I was bitchy today. Not exactly aggressively bitchy, but I thought unpleasant thoughts about C's girlfriend, and I actually revealed a few of them to him. Fortunately, he was understanding, and I apologized, but I nevertheless recognize that I was not at my best. It is true that I don't particularly like her - she's loud and chatty and asks personal, prying questions (not to mention that she's 45 and wears her hair in pigtail braids ;)) - but I shouldn't let her comments get on my nerves. Enough said. You know exactly where I'm coming from on this one. I know that I'm in the wrong. I only need to spend small bits of time with her, and I should simply accept that she doesn't understand that I don't like the kind of "talk" that she favours.

In spite of this, I'm actually having a good day. This is because although I've been engaging in THOROUGHLY UNPRODUCTIVE AND DISCOURAGING ACTIVITY, I've been laughing at myself all the while.

I'm tired. My allergies are bothering me. And, drum roll, I simply loathe that I do not meet many people here who are truly kind and warm and inspiring. There seem to be so many petty and irritating people around. That brunch yesterday was truly a misery. I've decided that I'm no longer going to agree to go out with people like that, whose company isn't a pleasure and who leach my time and my pleasant mood. Better to be alone and true to myself than in company and feeling like the life is being sucked out of me.

Tricky to put into practise. You might have noticed that lately I've been attempting to accept more invitations from people, to give new people a chance. I know that there's a mismatch between the types of people around me and my tastes and interests, but I am assuming that at least some of them are pleasant people.

In fact, I did have a very nice conversation this week with the woman whose party I went to a while back. I had a terrible time at her party, but she has persistently been trying to get me to do things with her. In spite of the fact that we have absolutely nothing in common (she never travels alone, has worked here since university, likes to go to nightclubs, wants to buy a motorcycle), I knew that I would probably like her based on her friends. I met her through the woman I really, really like and respect, who is much like me in many important ways, but who recently gave birth to the premature babies (they are doing fine now, thank goodness, but are still not ready to leave the hospital).

So anyhow, the conversation with this woman was nice because I told her, "It's not about you that I don't call or email to make plans with you. I am very introverted and I almost never make the initiative with other people. When I go out I will often have a nice time, but ninety-nine per cent of the time if you were to catch me at the end of a work day and ask me if I want to go out, the idea of going home would be more appealing. That's just me. I love to be alone."

So this worked very well, because she said she understood. We made a pact that we would at least go out for a 5 a 7 (happy hour/after work hors d'ouevres) before my vacation.

Sometimes I wonder if I only relate well to people who have had a parent die when they were relatively young (her mother died when she was in her late teens).

Well, that doesn't matter. What does matter is that I shouldn't complain. It's not easy to find likeminded people and I'm gradually finding a few.

So would you like to hear about the unproductive activity I've been engaged in in the last few hours?

It seems that when I want to test myself, to see exactly how much I can tolerate - sort of like squeezing lemon juice over a cut - inevitably on a weekend, I go to a few blogs of American ex-pats living in Italy. Normally this winds me up to a point of despair (although I will confess that I stuck to the Rome blogs today and did not read the one of the girl in Florence - too much), but today I thoroughly enjoyed two of the blogs that I found. They were lighthearted and well-written. I still envied their situations - both married Italians and one is an artist - but I smiled and felt hopeful as I read their blogs. Unfortunately, both of the blogs are now defunct.

I know that there are many challenges to living in Italy. I really don't know how I could tolerate the corruption, politics, bureaucracy and economics. I know that if I were to move there - lord knows how I would do it, anyhow, without easy access to a work permit - I would greatly reduce my earning potential and my future physical comfort and options.

At the same time, I increasingly come to a point here at which I wonder how I can continue forever in this life that I have here. I go to work and I find my work not uninteresting, to be sure, and people are fair and generally decent and my work standards are great and I am finally making decent money (and I am guaranteed continued earnings growth, etc., etc.), but I thrive on something much more dynamic and colourful.

If I were to tell the truth, the happiest time in my life was April of 1999. I had moved to Australia without a guaranteed job, and only really because I wanted to pursue my running seriously and to test the waters with my then-boyfriend. I loved the fact that it was all open and I was left only with myself and my wits.

This morning I read this:

"Concerning all acts of initiative (or creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splended plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too."

And, indeed, when I moved to Aus., in that first month or two, with no guarantees, I made more money in two months than I ever had as a runner(race winnings). I was on fire. And then of course my embassy/high commission job worked out...and the rest is history.

The thing is that I was much younger then and I had "wiggle room."

I don't know. I know that patience is the key. If I keep my eyes open and keep steady and true, I'm sure that some opportunity will present itself. I hope that I will be ready to seize it.

In the meantime, I'll work hard, do what I have to do, continue trying to connect with people I might have a chance of actually liking, and then move when the timing is right. And in the meantime I can plan for my six week - two month - three month leave to Florence next year. Why ever not? I have been doing some drawing - not enough, but some - and if I can give myself permission to skip social events with petty people that I have no hope of finding pleasureable, that is time that I can redirect into doing the things that matter. So that's that. I feel happier already.

XOX

And by the way, you should not listen to me at all. Although I have never once in my life recorded or remembered even the date of my approaching period, I am pretty sure it is approaching. How, you might ask am I pretty sure? Well, beyond the telltale irrationality, it seems as though it has been a while, maybe four weeks, since I had the last one. I'm an intuitive rather than a factual gal, really. :) Don't you think it's time I go into the kitchen and make some ravioli? Yes, I thought so too.

5:41 p.m. - 2010-04-18

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