Tag: Italy

Speed-Dating: OkCupid-Style

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Speed-Dating: OkCupid-Style

Click. Click. Rome. Click. London. Click. Somerville. Click. Open in a New Window. Click. New York. Click. Click. Click. Milan. Click. Perth. Click. San Francisco. Click. Open in a New Window. Click. Click. Click. Click.

The faces blur into one word: No. They blur into an action: Click.

They blur into forgotten memory like many paintings seen only once. I try to assign human names to HotRod4U or CumCMe or BigTits2Day or DownNDirty or MuyCaliente or some similar thing in Italian.

I try to use my long dual-language profile to screen out unnecessary messages and sexmails, and even end it on a quasi-diatribe on exoticism.  It’s been working. Sort of.

Click. Block. Hey. Block. Wassup? Block. Got Chocolate? Block. U Busy L8r? Block. Le donne nere… Block.

I’m blocking out the words that counter my usually empathetic mind as I scroll and click pass over a thousand men with their barely-covered genitalia on display.  It’s not working.

I read Mark Manson and try to understand the male psyche. I decide it must suck balls to be male, even if they supposedly have everything.  There’s not much they can do to express themselves.  Men are should-burdened into thinking themselves to be robots, or worst still, sex machines.

Or worst still, pathetic.

It’s shocking what the internet unmasks about society: apparently, a bunch of sex-crazed, racist, narcissistic…wait, I just got a message.  It’s amazing how excited you can become when someone treats you like a human being.

Click. Profile. Click. The Two of Us. Click. Unacceptable Answers. Scroll.

  • “I strongly prefer to date people within my race.”
  • Glance up at the European-ancestors-face. Scroll.
  • “Women are obligated to shave their legs.” Scroll.
  • “I don’t mind racist jokes.” Scroll.
  • “I don’t like tattoos on women.” Click. Block.

I’m not shocked. It’s just another day in online dating, about which I have come to understand a couple of things.

  • Some men, particularly in Italy,
  • like to wear Speedos.
  • and take pictures spread-eagled.
  • Some women, particularly in the US,
  • like to wear lingerie,
  • and take pictures of their breasts.
  • ………………………………………
  • Some people don’t have faces.
  • Some people use other people’s faces.
  • Some people don’t live where they say.
  • Some people are sad to say where they live.
  • Some people are just people who are too busy.
  • Some people are people who just want to get busy.

 

Until Next Time,

D.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many, Many Thanks to My New Followers!

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Image found: http://happyblackwoman.com

It’s one of those hazy Roman September mornings: the kind that isn’t so hot that you feel like your only option is to remain indoors, fixed permanently in your bed or under your shower.  Still, it is the kind that makes you a bit lazy about getting up or even bothering with finding mental clarity.

Rome, on these kinds of days, becomes a centrifugal blend of noises: the distinct songs of cicadas, the cobblestone scraping of straw brooms, the random knock of a hammer, the friendly greetings of neighbours, the midday ring of the church bells and the frustrated blares of traffic.  It’s that kind of morning.

Leaves stand still, birds have gone incognito, laundry dries on clotheslines, and there isn’t a soul in sight–even if voices can be heard in between the sadness of moving sirens.

I’ve woken–sort of–to this kind of day: depleted of energy and bogged down in thoughts.

Go through the routine: meditate, stretch (on bed, too tired to stand), effectively putz around room and find: necessary papers, missing perfume bottle, a collection of hairpins, and worn out fortunes from the local Japanese/Chinese restaurant that has yet to reopen since the start of summer and is “Chiuso per Ferie,” feel pleased that the room has been swept, books have been stacked, and mind has woken just a bit more.

I take a look at my computer: glance at Facebook, post something personal and then professional; think about email and decide to avoid it for now; visit school/work blog and then personal, and find myself at this moment of…

Gratitude.

Thank you to my new followers for taking a chance on supporting my blog.  Thank you to my old followers for your continued support.  Thank you to my visitors for acknowledging my presence.

All of you have made this hazy day much less hazy–

You let me know that I continue to take the right steps on my path.

Until Next Time,

D.

P.S.

Interested in the Gratitude Journal in the image above?

Visit Rosetta Thurman’s Happy Black Woman for more details.

P.P.S.

ATR Challenge Day 10: Getting up & Getting Grateful! Thanks! 😀

 

FMS | Please, Tell Me What I Can Eat….

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Seriously. 😉

Image found: http://ionehellobeautiful.files.wordpress.com

If you are like me and have been diagnosed with fibromyalgia as well as other comorbid illnesses, such as polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS), irritable bowel syndrome (IBS), Reynaud’s syndrome, then your relationship with food might be a complex one–and that probably is an understatement.

Eating the wrong foods or food combinations can mean more inflammation, pain, digestive issues, insomnia, fatigue, hair loss and gain (facial), decreased libido, mood swings, etc. And who wants more of that?

Especially, if you have comorbid diagnoses, you may find that the food recommended for one illness, may be discouraged for another illness. Sometimes it feels like a lose-lose battle.

Still, we must not despair. There is always a path to healthier and active living, if we choose to seek it.

Image found: http://blackgirlsguidetoweightloss.com/

For me, I live be a golden rule when it comes to living in my body.  I think of my body like any vehicle that I would drive. It is my personal vehicle, and so this rule applies:

Food is the Fuel

Exercise is the Engine

As long as the combination of those two factors is balanced, then I feel at peace with my choices. Whereas exercise may be limited to what my body can do at any given time and may not be a daily experience (although I try to make it so), food is something that I ought to consume daily for basic functioning and overall well-being.

However, food, the fuel that our bodies need to sustain us, is one aspect of self-care that can create havoc, for people with fibromyalgia, in our otherwise solid treatment plans.

Over the last six years, I have undertaken the task of discovering what foods my body can tolerate.  Perhaps this task is a leftover from my days as a personal trainer/fitness instructor or maybe it’s just that I want to feel the best I can every day. Whatever the case, I have been experimenting with foods in order to find a FMS+ plan that is nutritionally sound and interesting.

Image found: http://www.health.gov

Here is what I’ve discovered about my body:

Foods it Likes

(Tolerates…because I can’t really say that I, personally, enjoy all of these foods):

  • Leafy Greens – Bring on the lettuce, cabbage, endive, etc.  I cannot express to you how much I detest endive…but I live in Italy and am a bit lazy with food preparation, so endive is bound to be present in the bagged salads that I buy.  Oh well.
  • Water – Natural. Okay, this may seem a bit strange, but it is my reality.  My body loves water in its most natural state, not effervescent (fizzy). There is little else beyond water that my body can handle as a liquid. It’s simply not on.
  • Fruits – The crunchy kinds.  Any kind of fruit that has a crunch to it, my body seems to appreciate more than fruits that could be considered juicy (or very ripened).  So, that leaves me with pears, nectarines, apples, etc. HOWEVER, I have learned that I can only eat these in moderation or, at least, rotate them out. I can also eat bananas, mangoes, susine gialle (I don’t know the English name), and grapefruits, but even more infrequently.
  • Nuts & Dried Fruits – Don’t get too excited.  I can eat two things from this category fairly often, but still I understand that I need to keep them in moderate amounts: peanuts & dried cranberries. That’s it. Sometimes, I can have almonds, but not as often.
  • Eggs –  Although I am not a fan, I can eat them and do.  I, however, rotate them in my diet, because I am not partial to the taste.
  • Seafood – Yes, I can eat seafood BUT not all. My body, for whatever reason, cannot handle frequent consumption of  certain fish, such as salmon and tuna.  Shellfish, however, gets a green light.
  • Yoghurt – Notice, I didn’t write milk.  I can eat all yoghurt (as far as I know).  I feel best, however, when I eat Greek yoghurt, which I eat frequently and often in combination with my nuts and dried fruits–it’s my little treat.
  • Gelato – Not often, but I can eat gelato.  I don’t know about ice-cream. Also, I have to stick with plain flavours. Ideally, the gelato should be gluten-free (gluten is sometimes used as a thickener).  So, nothing with cereals or candies, etc.

Image found: http://cdn.madamenoire.com

  • Chocolate (dark or white) – Again, not often, but I can eat chocolate every now and again.  Like gelato, should be ideally gluten-free and it cannot contain any kind of cereals and is best without dried fruits (which is often raisins, which I cannot eat).
  • Diet Soda – Ideally, caffeine-free. Looking to spice things up liquid-wise?  Well, I can have diet soda fairly regularly, BUT because of my IBS, I understand that I need to limit my consumption.
  • Other vegetables – Mushrooms, olives, cucumbers, zucchini, garlic, onion, leeks, chives, scallions.  All of those get the green light.
  • Oils & other fats – I cook with olive oil. Period.  I do have butter in my refrigerator, but use it infrequently.
  • Seasonings – Well, most, as far as I know.  I tend not to season my foods, except with curry, black pepper, powdered/liquid garlic, rosemary, thyme or pimento.  And even these are used sparingly.

Image found: http://www.vibevixen.com

  • Gluten-free Products – WAIT…Please, don’t get excited, I can eat gluten-free cookies/biscuits…but not all, and it’s sort of a game of roulette.  I never know how my body will react to things.  Also, even though I have been able to eat these things, doesn’t mean that I think that it is good for me.  So, only when I am having a particular craving will I make the effort to purchase these.  They can also be great for making the crust of a low-carb/gluten-free cheesecake.
  • Cheeses – Apparently, I can whatever cheeses are available, but in severe moderation. 🙂 I am partial to softer cheeses, such as brie or cream cheese (which I use to make my low-carb/gluten-free cheesecake).
  • Fake Sugars – Yes, I can use them and do to add flavour to my cooking or sometimes to my water.  Fake sugars, however, are tricky and it is important to understand which ones work for you and which don’t.  My body, for example, cannot tolerate sugar alcohols in any form, whether as a sweetener or in the presence of a food (including gum and mint).

Okay, so those are the major (if not complete list of) items that I can eat.

—–

What I Choose Not To Eat…

Image found: http://userfiles.steadyhealth.com

The list of items that I ought not to eat is very long.  Notice that I write ought not to eat.

This is because I can eat them, but there will be repercussions.  As long as I am willing to accept the repercussions (major IBS symptoms, random/sudden weight gain, increased pain and fatigue, migraines, increased insomnia), then I’m good to go. 😉

So, what I do I choose not to eat?  Well, I’ll give you general categories:

I discovered how bad it was for me just the other day.  Recently, I bought a bag of gluten-free flour, thinking that I would make myself some awesome Jamaican boiled dumplings. Well…the experience left me in misery.  Sure the dumplings tasted good, but I felt almost as awful as I would have if I were to have used regular flour.  Why?

Well, the foundation of most gluten-free flour is grounded rice, potato starch, sugar, and even some finely grounded nuts, such as almonds.  Remember my list of foods that my body likes?  Well, there you go.  Of course, having spent close to 4 Euros on this bag of flour, I intend to use it all, but sparingly (it’s good until next year).

Image found: http://www.healthyblackwoman.com

  • Nightshade vegetables & fruits – As much as I love them.  I have said goodbye to tomatoes, bell peppers, potatoes, eggplant (mostly), peppers, and most berries (cranberry exception).  They cause/increase inflammation and possibly insomnia, so it’s just not on.
  • Citrus Fruits – High sugar content, acidic, and too much vitamin C.  Well, all of these things I can do without. I already take a daily supplement of vitamin C, so I can live without them. Of course, as mentioned above, every now and again, I can eat a grapefruit. 🙂
  • Caffeine-heavy products – So, that basically wipes out tea, coffee, sodas, and even chocolate. 🙂  Of course, anything can be consumed in moderate amounts.  Still, I do not drink coffee, and rarely tea or soda. Of course, I mentioned chocolate before.
  • Meats – Like grains. It’s simply not on.
  • Milk – I always find it strange that I can eat yoghurt, but not drink milk. Well, that’s the reality. I can, however, use heavy cream for cooking.
  • Nuts & dried fruits – Too much sugar, too challenging for the body to process. 
  • Alcohol – I’ve never been partial to drinking alcohol. That being stated, alcohol simply presents a challenge for many with FMS. Want to feel more tired? More nauseous? Less restful sleep? Then, drink alcohol. I’m good without it though.

—-

Other things of consumption to think about?

Well, if you smoke, STOP. Smoking increases pain severity.

Chewing gum? Pause. Check the sugar content. Your sugar intake may be having an adverse impact on your health.

Image found: http://kinkycurlycoilyme.com

Of course, the research on what foods actually help or hinder us is limited.  Each person is different. So, each of us must take responsibility for what we put into our bodies.  Don’t just read this blog or something else and say “Aha! Now I know what to eat!”

Don’t be lazy!

Instead, take this information and use it for your own research. As I mentioned before, it has taken me 6 years to sort this out for myself AND it is still an ongoing process, especially as my body grows older (as a woman, this presents certain nutritional and hormonal issues).

What I’ve come to understand is that, no matter what, I must love my body.

It’s become a mantra…

Image found: http://news.bbcimg.co.uk

I must love my body, even when it isn’t doing what I want it to do, even when it isn’t looking the way I want it to look, even when it feels like a stranger to me.  I must love and care for it the best way that I can.

I must shut out the emotional voice of my body that sometimes longs for foods that are unwise for me to eat, and listen carefully to the wise voice of my body that reveals to me the foods that will help me heal and maintain balance.

Food is fuel for our bodies, not a crutch for our self-esteems.

The Take-Away?  Well, I try to follow two basic rules when shopping, especially when I am thinking to buy something new:

  • If the food can live on a shelf longer than one to two weeks, then I don’t buy it.
  • If the food is in a can, bottle, plastic package, then I hestitate to buy it and refer to the first rule.

 

Well, I’m off to the grocery store! Happy Sunday!

P.S. If weight is an issue for you and you are looking for a place to begin, or you are needing inspiration on your journey, then check out fitness motivation speaker and certified women’s fitness, weightloss, and nutrition trainer Erika Nicole Kendall‘s blog:  A Black Girl’s Guide To Weightloss.  Kendall’s blog covers a variety of topics, including fitness, body image, sex, culture, food recipes, and beauty.

A New Poem: The Streets of Trastevere are Haunted…

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I've begun to write again...
--
Crossing Ponte Sisto to Trastevere, 2.20.11
Crossing Ponte Sisto to Trastevere, 2.20.11
The Streets of Trastevere are Haunted

I spend a lot of time walking.
I’ve got no particular place to go,
but still I walk

pass the people who look
nothing like me,
pass the ones who speak
languages foreign to me,
pass the crippled homeless man
on that bridge, Ponte Sisto;

the one I cross too often,
the one that was built by prostitution,
the one where I see people
who look…

like me,
with shades of dark, naturally,
but darkened even more
by prolonged time spent
under the sun, selling

knock-off wares to tourists,
who barely care
and are feeling superior
(even though they would never admit it);

shades so dark that both sclera and teeth
appear whiter than the white
of those to whom they try to sell
tokens of meaninglessness,

and so my senses always become flooded
by the decay of living wastefully,

because I desire neither to feel nor to think
beyond the moment’s necessities,
because I desire neither the weight
of possessions nor being possessed
by life-long acquisition;

still it’s always like that,
that we are made to experience,
 either directly or vicariously,
 the things we reject:

these darkened men who
always stare and speak at me,
the homeless man who
always smiles and bows to me,
the self-inflated tourists who
always see and brush pass me

as I walk, step by broken step,
on cobblestones that hurt
my already broken feet
and engrave in my already broken soul
the fact that I’m living again somewhere

that doesn’t belong to me,
that is beyond anything
that I should’ve experienced:
this city and its history.

The streets of Trastevere are haunted.
And I’ve got nowhere but there to go,
passing by broken English speakers
offering this and that,
“Vivo qua” I say,
and again acknowledge to myself
that it’s already been three years
of vacuous time

that I’ve yet to fill with memories
of these streets,
of these people,
who spend everything:
time, money, bodies, minds,
and souls to achieve
the memories I refuse to acquire.

*

In the autumn the streets are owned
by starlings and umbrellas,
and evening becomes a time to fear,
with sounds like too many squeaking mice
to match the rats that run under feet,
down by the Tiber,
or up along the streets,
in the depth of the subway system,

where I heard that someone,
who didn’t belong here,
had their body tossed;
but they didn’t look like me,
probably they smiled and thought
the best of the world around them,
even of these haunted streets.

-db

Hair, weight…Results are in (Part 3 of 3)

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"True Mirror Image," photography by Dolores Juhas (2010). Copyright (c) Dolores Juhas. All Rights Reserved.

“True Mirror Image,” photography by Dolores Juhas (2010). Copyright (c) Dolores Juhas. All Rights Reserved.

So what happened after March 2009?

I decided enough was enough.  I was sick, tired, self-pitying, angry at the world and at myself, and just generally feeling that I was inadequate that my existence was quite pointless.

I wasn’t able to participate fully in either my personal or professional live.  It was hard.  When I looked in the mirror, the image smiling back at me was still sad.  I decided then that neither Fibromyalgia nor my mind nor my surrounding was going to stop me from finding a way to live.

"Not the self-destruct button" found at http://www.connectedprincipals.com/archives/4100. I had to include this image... It was just too funny not to do so.

“Not the self-destruct button” found at http://www.connectedprincipals.com/archives/4100. I had to include this image… It was just too funny not to do so.

I decided to do what I could do…take one step forward.  I joined up with two other ladies to do a walk/run for 15 minutes for most mornings.

I decided to do Weight Watchers Online for three months to learn more about nutrition and to be inspired by others who were taking positive steps to make effective changes in their lives.

I decided to become vegetarian, slowly (and I mean very slowly) removing meat products from my life.

I decided to begin learning how to love myself as I was in that moment, not lament who I had been.  I wasn’t always successful, and sometimes I still struggle with that.

I acquired the following books:

I decided to become more natural with my medication, finding ways to decrease the amount of medications that I had to take.  It took consulting with my doctors and taking time to research, but it was worth it.

I temporarily joined a Fibromyalgia Support Group (though I did not always find it supportive, especially when it came to improving my physical health).

I began to speak out more about my needs and take steps at work to make sure that others understood the nature of my illness.

Waiting, photography by April Rivers (Fall, 2010)

Waiting, photography by April Rivers (Fall, 2010)

The Result?

After almost two years of doing this work, I found myself a bit more than 70 pounds lighter.  My blood pressure which was unreasonably high was lower.  My body that I could barely move most days began to move more.  My mind was less foggy.  I began to wake up to many realities of which I was not aware.

And finally, I became aware of something that I knew to be psychologically true…but never imagine I would ever experience.  I became aware of the fact that people were angry about my changes.

I had to deal with rumours about my weight loss, i.e. how I lost weight, for whom I lost weight.

Of course, when you go from a larger size to a smaller size, you need new clothes.  I was fortunate to receive some vintage clothing from April’s grandmother, which were more fitted to my figure.  Wearing these clothing turned into gossip that I was trying to attract men…even though these people knew that I was married and highly committed to my marriage.

"The Revenge of Pride," photography by Dolores Juhas (2010). Copyright (c) Dolores Juhas. All Rights Reserved.

“The Revenge of Pride,” photography by Dolores Juhas (2010). Copyright (c) Dolores Juhas. All Rights Reserved.

There was also a humorous side to all of this (actually, I found the rumours humorous too).  I discovered that suddenly people felt more comfortable giving me compliments.  I even had someone say that they were surprised by how good I was looking lately.

Suddenly, too, many people were ready to chime in on my general appearance:  how I should look, what I should wear, what my weight should be.

I guess you could say that losing the weight brought me both joy and distress.  I was happy to be free from some of the physical difficulties posed by my weight gain…but I was equally distressed by the growing hostilities coming from various parts of my life. Still, I do not regret it.

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And then…

I cut my hair and moved to Rome, which brought on a whole host of other issues, of which you can read about in earlier postings in my blog.

———

Until Next Time,

D.

P.S. Check out School Psychologist and Professor Nina Ellis-Hervey regarding mind and body well-being. Link to her website here. Also visit her YouTube site “BeautifulBrownBabyDol“…You won’t regret it.

Related articles

A Quick Note: Oh yeah…I am Black.

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Self-portrait, August 2010, photography by Diedré M Blake

Self-portrait, August 2010, photography by Diedré M Blake

Preface:

Simply shocking…this article.  I am taking a momentary pause from my hair issues to write about something that has really been on my mind lately:  racism.

—-

From reading articles about racial profiling to even a Black woman being chased and threatened that she would be raped and lynched, I have had enough.   Black women have been seemingly under blatant attack over the last few years…or better yet, centuries.

It seems that as Black women move up in society and make a place for ourselves, as we demand recognition for our work and our intelligence, as we endure hardships from inside and outside of our community, there are some who are trying their very best to stifle our voices and reduce us to those caricatures that plague mainstream media.

We are neither “hoes” nor are we “bitches” nor are we “mammies” nor are we “domineering,” nor are we “baby mammas,” nor are we “welfare queens,” nor are we any other form of degradation that many may want to lay at our doorsteps.

Indeed, consider us strong and proud women, who are unique in our self-expression and our external beauty; there is no shame in that.  I hope you will agree.

—-

Here we go…
I am beginning to understand just how much in the “dark” I have been over the years.  Sometimes I think that being from the Caribbean prevents and has prevented me from really understanding the mental and social plight that many people who look like me experience on a daily basis.

Recently I said to my partner, Matteo, that I see myself as being an extremely privileged Black woman. You may wonder why.

The reason is this: I grew up in a predominantly Black society until adolescence. I was never overtly taught about racism. It was only later in my early twenties that I came to understand that there was indeed a form of internalized racism going on in Jamaica.

That is, from childhood we are subliminally taught that those who were considered to have “pretty skin,” or “pretty hair,” or “pretty eyes” were those who had a lighter complexion, less coarse hair (think hair types 3c and above), and to have lighter coloured eyes (not dark brown like mine).

I remember blatantly hearing people who were very dark-skinned being referred to as “duppies” (ghosts) amongst other terms.  Now back to my privilege.

—-

You see, I am:

  1. a brown-skinned;
  2. highly educated;
  3. well-spoken (read: I do not have a discernible accent that “marks” me as Black, in other words I sound “White”…whatever that means)–I still remember my mother drumming into my head the fact that I was never to speak patois and speak only “proper” English;
  4. well-travelled;
  5. thin/average-sized;
  6. cosmopolitan Black woman.

Even my very English/Scottish name is not easily “marked” as being a “Black name”...again whatever that is suppose to mean–I will say that I have shocked many people over the years with my very non-White (perhaps afrocentric) appearance…and have been greeted with the ever-so-clear “Ms. Black” instead of “Ms. Blake” Freudian slip.

For the love of the universe, I grew up listening to heavy metal, classical music, reggae, alternative rock, and country. I suppose I could add some more to that, but you get my point. 😉

The result of these characteristics is that I am a non-threatening entity to a potential dominant White majority. That is, I fit better into that world rather than in one that is dominated by people who look more like me–as I have often been accused by other Black people of being an “oreo,” i.e. Black on the outside, White on in the inside.

It is a sad thing to realize that because of all of these factors, I am shielded often from the prejudice that people who look like me face on a regular basis.

Even here in Italy, where racism is rampant, I was bluntly told that because I am perceivable “attractive,” then I would certainly not experience racism here.

What?? Let me state that again, I was told that Italians are only racist against Black people (or in my case, women), who they do not consider attractive.  Really?? Okay…

This is not to say that I have not experience overt and covert racism as well as sexism.  Indeed I have, both in my personal life and my professional life.  I have been told things like “Oh, you aren’t ugly like other Black women;” “Oh, you are just like a man, intelligent.”

In high school in Florida, I had wanted to attend Berklee College of Music.  The band director knew of my desire and had many times lauded me as an excellent musician…

I was, however, not given a letter of recommendation (even after multiple requests) , even though I had proven myself and was acknowledged as a multi-instrument composer and musician, who even led her own Baroque woodwind trio.

A more extreme example happened in college.  I was directed not to file a complaint against a White student who assaulted me, because it would be difficult “for someone like me” to prove my case.  Instead, I was moved to temporary housing.

While travelling as a student and even beyond, I was routinely stopped and search.  Perhaps it is because I had

  1. loc’s, (think marijuana), or
  2. a Jamaican passport at the time (think hard drugs/marijuana), or
  3. nowadays because I wear a head-wrap (think terrorist)–

although, I really should thank those airport personnel for the many head massages I have received as a result, and that one rather cute airport screener in London, who felt it was her personal duty to shove her hand down my pants.  You know!  😉

headonbwAugust2010I have been denied upward mobility in my career, by even being denied the possibility of my master’s thesis project being presented to and approved by an internal review board…

The result of this was a most necessary improvisation on my part and a scaled-down version of the project.  It didn’t stop there.

Anyway, I could go on forever about the slights I have experienced…just like many other women of colour.

—-

You might be wondering why I am posting what could be perceived as a “rant.”

The reason is simple:

it is time for all people, regardless of socially-defined race and nationality, to wake up!

The colour of your skin, the organ that lies between your legs, the texture of your hair, the structure of your face, your height, your accent, your perceived physical endowments DO NOT dictate the state of your mind.

  • They do not dictate your capabilities.
  • They do not dictate your potential.
  • They do not dictate your intelligence.
  • They do not dictate whether or not you are a “good” or “bad” person.

Seriously, isn’t it about time that we stopped all of this tomfoolery?  Why must we remain so divisive in our words and actions whether within or outside of our own “designated” groups?

And before anyone may think to dismiss this issue as simply another stereotype of the “angry Black woman syndrome,” or blow it away like a speck of dust thinking “this has nothing to do with me,”  or try to cheer me on as a “strong Black woman” who is speaking the truth and trying to effectively “Stick it to the man;”  think again.

I write this because I am afraid.

I am afraid of the news that I see coming from various countries on the treatment of women who look like me (yes, I care about men too, but I am a woman first).

I am afraid that with the growing belief that racism no longer exists, we are becoming too complacent and letting our awareness slip noticing the everyday occurrences of racial/ethnic/sexual/gender/physical biases that are happening right in front of our very eyes.

Until Next Time,

D.

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No excuses…Senza scuse…

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67284_1638974222866_1492085798_31684598_1767133_nDear Readers:

I apologize for having taken such an extended time away from my blog.  Although this not an unusual act for me, it was far longer than I had imagined it would be.  I am in the midst of trying to understand how to repurpose my blog (and other social media outlets) as who I am has undergone a significant shift.

Carissimi Lettori:

mi dispiace che andavo via dal mio blog per tantissimo tempo. Nonostante non sia un’azione strana per me, questo tempo era più lungo che immaginavo sarebbe stato. Adesso sto provando a capire come migliore di usare il mio blog (e le altre reti sociali), perché chi io sono è mutata significativamente.

When I began this blog, I had no inkling of what I wanted it to be, outside of the idea that others thought it would be a useful forum through which I could share my experiences, especially living abroad.  In general, I have aimed at writing about topics that would be useful for personal introspection, especially for women and those who have been diagnosed with fibromyalgia or other chronic Illnesses.  Stepping forward, I intend to continue addressing such topics.  The shift may come in the format of doing more literature reviews and adding more humour, because I have really learned how to smile in the last month (the picture above is old…so never mind that ;))

Quando cominciavo questo blog, non avevo il sentore della cosa che volevo il blog di essere, eccetto l’idea che le altre persone me avevano detto che un blog era un forum utile in cui potevo condividere le mie esperienze, soprattutto vivere all’estero. In generale, nel passato ho provato a scrivere sui temi che pensavo che erano utili per le donne e le persone che hanno la fibromyalgia o le malatie croniche. Nel futuro ho intenzione di continuare a dedicarmi a questi temi. Forse i cambi vengono nella forma di scrivere più spesso gli articoli sulla letteratura e usare dell’umorismo più spesso, perché ho imparato veramente durante il mese scorso come sorridere (va be’, la foto sopra è vecchia, così non importa ;))

imagesCAUNGZWA.jpg. Unknown source.

imagesCAUNGZWA.jpg. Unknown source.

A small update about my life:

I returned to the U.S. after two plus years of being away.  I had the opportunity to spend time with my family, which was much needed.  My current partner acted as my travelling companion, and generally kept me out of trouble…as much as any person can manage to do that.  I am now divorced–there really isn’t a less direct way of stating that.  More importantly, my friendship with my former partner, April, continues to mean the world to me.  And I am glad that we had the chance to spend time with her and her partner.

Un aggiornamento piccolo sulla mia vita:

sono ritornata in gli stati uniti dopo più di due anni. Avevo l’opportunità di passare il tempo con la mia famiglia che avevo bisogno di fare. Il mio compagno era con me e provava a fermarmi da causare i problemi per me stessa e, ovviamente, per le altre persone (ancora non lo so io se sia possibile in realtà, ma lui provava a farlo). Sono divorziata adesso–veramente, esiste un modo più discreto di dire questa cosa? Penso di no. Più importante è la mia amicizia con la mia ex compagna, April. L’amicizia continua a essere uno delle cose dell’importanza migliore nella mia vita. E sono felice che abbiamo avuto l’opportunità di passare il tempo insieme, cioè con lei e la sua compagna.

Unknown Source.

Unknown Source.

I continue to work on the revision of my novel.  The progress has slowed somewhat with the start of school and, prior to that, my own struggles with apathy and anxiety (this is where managing perfection is key).  I have, however, begun a new story that is really exciting my creativity and also helping my revision process.

Continuo a rivedere la bozza del mio romanzo. Il processo sta andando lentamente, soprattutto perché ho cominciato di nuovo a andare all’università e, prima, mi stavo davvero sforzando di fermarmi sentirmi apatica e ansiosa.  Comunque ho cominciato a scrivere un racconto nuovo che mi sta causando a sentire di nuovo il mio senso della creatività e mi sta aiutando nel processo della revisione.

I have ultimately decided that returning to the U.S. after graduation is the next step to take.  This chapter of my Roman story is coming to a close…though I have a strange but happy feeling that my journey with Rome is far from over.

Dopotutto ho deciso che il mio passo prossimo è ritornare negli stati uniti dopo la mia cerimonia di laurea. Questo capitolo del mio racconto romano sta cominciando a chiudere…nonostante abbia il sentimento distinto che la mia avventura con la Città Eterna continuerà ad essere un viaggio imprevedibile e lungo.

Unknown Source.

Unknown Source.

What’s next? Well, a post or two about my relationship with yarn…or rather, knitting.  Or better still, why I admire author and knitter Stephanie Pearl-McPhee and how her words have been inspired me.

Per il futuro?  Allora, un post (forse due) sulla mia relazione con il filato…ovvero il lavoro a maglia. Oppure molto meglio di dire il perchè mi ammiro l’autrice Stephanie Pearl-McPhee e come le sue parole mi hanno inspirato.

Until Next Time,

Alla prossima volta

D.

Gli Occhi Aperti / The Open Eyes…

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Cut Eye

Cut Eye (Photo credit: lindes)

Ho deciso di scrivere oggi in italiano (ma anche con una traduzione in inglese per i miei lettori che leggono solo in inglese).  Come mi sento in questo momento? Non sono sicura.  Sono stanchissima da morire, perché tante cose hanno successo questa settimana ed anche ho lavorato molto, almeno secondo me.  Continuo a scrivere il mio romanzo e oggi ho scritto una poesia nuova in italiano.  Vorrei condividerla con la speranza che voi mi diate le vostre opinioni. Come ho già scritto, ho scritto una traduzione in inglese, comunque l’orginale è stato scritto in italiano. Quindi la traduzione attuale è molta semplice. In alcuni giorni scriverò un’altra versione inglese. Ringrazio Matteo per la sua assitenza con la grammatica.

——————-

Today, I decided to write in Italian (but always with a translation in English for my readers who only read in English).  How am I feeling in this moment? I am not certain.  I am ridiculously tired, because many things have happened this week and also I work a lot, at least, in my opinion.  I continue to write my novel and today I have written a new poem in Italian.  I would liked to share it, with the hope that you will give your opinions.  As I have already written, I have written a translation in English.  However, the orginal is in Italian.  Therefore, the current translation is very simple. In some days I will write another English version.   I thank Matteo for his assistance with grammar.

——————-

Gli Occhi Aperti 

Ci sono momenti in cui mi domando perché.

Perché ci sono tante persone che si sentono perse? Perché?

Soprattutto quando sono in piedi l’una accanto all’altra.  Perché?

–

Perché ci sono tante persone che non hanno la consapevolezza

che la vita non è la realtà che può essere vista solo con i loro occhi?

–

Hanno bisogno di capire che

la loro realtà si allontana…

verso la corpulenza del mondo,

contro la verità dell’anima.

–

Realtà non è reale.

Realtà non è vera.

Non è neanche un’enigma,

né uno specchio oscurato

in cui non vediamo noi stessi.

–

Realtà è appena una manifestazione delle nostre paure

che sono state sviluppate dall’assenza

della saggezza in ognuna delle nostre vite.

–

Comunque questi pensieri sono solo una parte di un racconto vecchio.

Dall’inizio della nostra umanità, non abbiamo noi forse sempre detto

le stesse cose di nuovo, di nuovo e di nuovo?

–

Esiste sempre una ragione per la quale viviamo noi

le nostre vite nei modi in cui lo facciamo.

–

Esiste sempre una ragione per la quale diciamo noi

che non possiamo scegliere in modi diversi…

–

Mai…

le vie nuove,

Mai…

le intese nuove,

Mai…

le parole nuove.

–

Mai…

Mai…

Mai…

Mai…

Mai…

Mai…

–

E in questo modo rimaniamo

le stesse persone

con le stesse domande:

–

<<Perché mi sento perso?>>

<<Perché mi sento solo

quando sono in piedi accanto a tutti?>>

–

Realtà non è realtà.

Devi aprire la tua mente per poter aprire gli occhi.

E poi, crei la realtà in cui vuoi vivere.

–

————————————————–
————————————————–
–

The Open Eyes

There are moments in which I ask myself why.

Why are there so many people who feel lost?  Why?

Especially when they are standing next to others. Why?

–

Why are there so many people who do not have the awareness

that life is not the reality that can be seen only with their eyes?

–

They need to understand that

their reality is moving away…

toward the corpulence of the world,

against the truth of the soul.

–

Reality is not real.

Reality is not true.

It is not even an enigma,

nor an obscured mirror,

in which we cannot see ourselves.

–

Reality is just a manifestation of our fears

that have been developed by the absence

of wisdom in each of our lives.

–

However, these thoughts are just a part of an old story.

From the beginning of our humanity, have we not always said

the same things again and again?

–

There always exists a reason for which we live

our lives in the ways that we do.

–

There always exists a reason for which we say

that we cannot chose different ways of being…

–

Never…

new paths

Never….

new understandings,

Never…

new words.

–

Never…

Never…

Never…

Never…

Never…

Never…

–

In this way we remain

the same people

with the same questions:

–

“Why am I lost?”

“Why am I alone

when standing next to everyone?”

–

Reality is not reality.

You must open your mind in order to open your eyes.

And then, create the reality in which you want to live.

–

————————————————–
————————————————–

Grazie a tutti per prendere tempo per visitare e leggere.

Thank you everyone for taking time to visit and read.

Alla Prossima Volta,

Until Next Time,

D.

He tells me to write Fibromyalgia…

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Days of weakness.  Days of strength.

“Tu sei debole,” my Italian professor says pointedly to me. “Io sono forte.  Quindi io vinco e tu perdi.” 

It is a discussion on verismo and positivismo–the idea that we are what we are until we die and that there is nothing we can do to change it.

Debole…

Fibromyalgia is the body that will not rise, even when the mind commands it; the mind that will not rest, even when the body requires it; the emotions that rage; the emotions that calm–the pendulum of the self that swings wildly with the change of the weather…the change of the seasons.

Forte…

Fibromyalgia is the body that overcomes pain, even when the  mind surrenders to it; the mind that overcomes suffering, even when the body submits to it; the thoughts that beseech; the thoughts that concede–the pendulum of the self that settles slowly with the transformation of self-perception…the formation of self-acceptance.   

Write…

“I am a person who has a chronic illness,” I say to myself and others. “Fibromyalgia and I are not one and the same.”

My professor is staring at me.  He can see that my movements are slow.  I am in pain.  It takes me a long time to rise from my seat, to pick up my books, to pick up my coat, to put my bag on my shoulders.  It is not a good day.  There have not been many good days since late autumn.

“Is it always like this?”

Shamefacedly, I raise my eyes to meet his. “Often enough these days.”

I have no excuses.  I have learnt well enough by now that people will judge you as they will–but he isn’t judging me–and if the judgement is harsh, then you can only apologise for having disappointed–but he isn’t disappointed in me–and move on.

“Have you ever written about it?”

Rilke. Found via Google Images

Found via Google Images

“I have tried in the past.”  The question is not unfamiliar.  Indeed, it was only a little over a year ago that another professor from the Creative Writing Program made the same inquiry.  “I decided to take some space from it.”

It is momentary, the dance of excitement that control his features before coming to an abrupt halt.  Here is an opportunity.  I know it is an opportunity.

My mind already understands the words that have yet to be spoken to me.  My mind has already resolved itself to the task that is to be required of me.  My body feels heavier than before, the skin and flesh of my chest press too much against the bones that encase my lungs.  My body feels more alive than before, my shoulders and my head are relieved of some invisible burden.

“Whenever you cannot be here,” he says before continuing to gather his things. “I want you to write about it. Write about your fibromyalgia.”

In this moment, he is teaching me something I had once learnt, seemingly long ago.  He is teaching me that self-acceptance is a dynamic process that evolves from self-confrontation.

It is time once again to look in the mirror.

——

Thank you again to those of you who continued to visit my blog even though I have not posted in some time.  More recently, I have been struggling with my FMS symptoms and have had to prioritize the tasks I needed to accomplish during each day.  As such my writing fell temporarily to the wayside.  I have decided to dedicate my blog writing to dealing with topics related to FMS until the end of May (which is the FMS Awareness month), including reviewing books as well as activities/tools that have helped and are helping me in my process. 

Until Next Time!

D.

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The birds and the flow of water…

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I have no desire to write today.  My body aches from fatigue and illness.  My mind focuses on all the things that I ought to do and ought to have done.  I am taking pleasure in listening to the sound of the flowing water from my shower…another ought to.  I am pondering the call of the starlings that have made their arrival known to Rome.  My mind refuses coherent thoughts. I write because if I wait for the desire to write to come, it may never do so.  I write because I recognize that I am hiding myself from certain truths, or perhaps certain fears. Today, in this moment, I am asking myself why I have chosen this path.  It is so very uncertain.  Why take a step towards a destination unknown?  I suppose I have no answer.  I can only live in the now, not the then or the hereafter . I have no guarantee that this life that I am living will lead to anything that would be considered a success by all.  What I do know is that I am filling that which was once empty.  Until next time. Best,D.

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