Here where I live, in this little town in the south of Italy, November is the month with the highest number of fairs. It starts with a big fair in a little town next to mine and it goes on with another in my native town. November smells like oranges and roasted chestnuts and popcorn and sugar. November smells like pouring rain and grey sky. I love this month that is a bridge between summer and winter, the main part of autumn. For me, this is also the period of time in which I’ve to make my decisions and my English test. I don’t know where I’ll be living next year and which language I’ll be speaking. What I know is the incredible atmosphere of this (perhaps) last November in Italy. And I’m gonna enjoy it ‘til the end.
Blue, cyano, white. A bit of yellow. That’s pale green. And then all over again.
Seven years ago, I drew a little croissant and a fork plunged into it on canvas. Then, I abandoned it. For years it’s been there, among the magazines I wrote for and the books I still have to read. Yesterday, I surprised myself thinking “The day’s come to finish what I’ve started”. And I’ve done it. I’ve searched for my acrylics and the brushes, I’ve set the palette, I’ve started painting. It was midnight. My mum has looked at me, still in her nightdress, and she’s said: “You’re completely fool”, which is actually true. I’ve carried on painting until 2 am. Then, I’ve washed the colours out of the palette, I’ve washed my hands and looked at the almost finished plunged-into-heart brioche. Seven years to complete it, but now I’m really satisfied. So it’s true: the time always comes to complete what you’ve once thought of. Sometimes it’s a matter of a couple of days, sometimes it’s a matter of years, but the time will come. Now, my hands are green with acrylics and I’m sleepy but it doesn’t matter. I’ve finished what I’ve started. That is always a good way to spend your days.
I’ve been taking a journal since my 6th grade. “What a childish thing to do!”, some among you could say. Yes, maybe it is, but it’s also a useful practice, as I’m gonna explain to you. For instance, think about a big crush you have upon a nice boy. You write everything about him and about the “déroulement” of your crush. At some point, something goes wrong. Then, you come back to your journal, you read it again from the beginning to the end, and suddenly you understand WHY something’s gone wrong. A private journal always hides the truth. Maybe it’s because we’re completely honest while writing it: we know no one else would read it. On the contrary, when we rethink of some memories of ours, often we slightly edit them, maybe in order to preserve ourselves from the rush of truth. Truth is seldom nice to look at.
There’s also another reason at least that should convince you to take a journal. When you’re writing for yourself only, you can experiment your creativity and let it increase. If you like drawing figures but you’re still insecure about how they look, you can practice on your journal and nobody is gonna watch them. If you like writing poems but you just don’t feel like someone should read them, here we are again: write them down on your journal.
So, now maybe it’s clear why I keep doing this “childish thing”. Make a try and let me know if it works for the best 🙂
I promised I’d have been writing a post everyday, but yesterday I passed and I don’t even know why. Okay, it’s not true, I know why: I’ve passed all day reading a book written by a friend of mine, one of my best ones. He’s a writer, even if he hasn’t published his works yet, and I really love him and so it’s my duty and pleasure to read his drafts. I forgot to say I’m an editor, so this is my work, after all. I’ve been reading all day long and the book has really captured me. It’s wonderful and it has to be published and I’ll do everything I can to make it possible.
Coming back to the main topic: I’ve received the email I was waiting for. It’s from the Irish university I wish to apply to, and I’m really happy they have answered me. Now, I know what to do next:
translating my research in english and make someone check it
contacting a hypothetical supervisor
contacting someone at the Italian Studies
STUDYING FOR THE IELTS EXAM!!!
Okay, so that’s all. I’ve a direction to follow, and that’s GREAT. Now, I’ll go back reading my Book of Spells by Kate Brian. I wish I can tell you more about it soon.
This day started with my IELTS Book (reading and Writing exercises), a Coffee at my beloved Moravia Café and a cigarette. I’m reading The prequel novel of The Private saga by Kate Brian: The title is “The Book of spells” and I think I’ll Write a Book review very soon. Have you read it? What do you think?
This evening, after Work, I’ve tried to make 1 hour of speaking practice. I have to admit it: I hate speaking. The fact is I’ve no One to speak with in English and so I’m obliged to speak all alone in my room about Books, love, problems, and I feel really stupid and also a bit crazy. Without counting The fact that no One can tell me if I’m saying something really stupid or if I’m literally killing English Grammar. Ah, The bad bad life of a bad bad Student!
I come back reading my Book of spells. See you soon with The review!
So, hello everybody. There’s something I must tell you: I’m not writing for you, readers. The fact is I’m studying english in order to pass IELTS exams and fly to Dublin for a research program. Really hard, hum? But I’m so ambitious (or perhaps so stupid) I wanna try. So, here we are: I start writing this blog in order to improve my english skills. I’ll write books and movies reviews and everything about my everyday life, my dreams, my cat, my house… everything. I’ve said that I’m writing for myself only, but perhaps it’s not completely true. I’m writing also because I know there’s someone just like me, out there: someone who’s studying, trying, reading, doing his best in order to get what he/she wants. If you’re the one out there, say hello! Welcome to my sad, sad world.
Ah! D’u wanna know the reason of this blog’s name? I’m redhead, but the truth is I tied my hair. You know that really a lot of Irish people are redhead – for real. I’m Italian and tied-redhead, they’re Irish and truly-redhead. I’m Italian and I want to study in Ireland. So… understood the link?
But I’ve written too much. See you tomorrow with some reviews or, perhaps, a little more of my delirious thought. Goodnight!