Showing posts with label feelings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feelings. Show all posts

30 December, 2010

2010. A year in review.

2010 has been a terrible year for blogging. This is ironic, because this year has been one of the most eventful of my life. One thing stands out above all: the inability to control my time, to live it as I always have, leisurely, calmly, at ease. I feel like I have constantly been in a rush, swamped with tasks to complete and goals to achieve. 3 big ones in particular: to conceive N., to open the hub and to move into our new home. I am glad to say all 3 have been accomplished. But all have their silver lining. Life, after all, is never quite as clean-cut as movies are.


First: N.'s conception. He - and the siblings that hopefully will follow - will have a whole blog dedicated to their strange and beautiful life. No, it won't be one of those tedious and saccarine lists of endless achievements by the new-born (HE SMILED! HE COUGHED! HE SHAT!!). It will be the first draft of a serious/ridiculous sit-com, starring us in this social experiment that promises to rock the world. You wait an see. Lady V is of course on the case, but I dare say I'll have a role to play beyond dutiful dad. The writer inside started stirring the moment Rolling Stone gave me a column to play with a month or so ago.

So I won't really go into too many details about the story of how N. came into being. But if I look back at the last year, I can't help thinking of what Lady V and I went through almost exactly a year from now. How incredibly painful and yet how important a moment in our life that loss has been. I dare say fundamental in our journey. I would have never known how much I care about her and about what we are doing together if I hadn't touched with my heart the power of loss. And therefore I am grateful this year has given us life out of loss. Joy out of pain. And even though N. will see the sun for the first time in 2011, for me he is a child of 2010.


Second: the hub. Of the three, this one is perhaps the one with the darkest of linings. It started off both dark and rose-tinted, with a war erupting while 1 year of preparatory work was about to come to fruition with the launch of the first Italian centre for social innovation. I don't regret the war. I was one of those who started it because it was necessary, the catastrophic course taken by J. was going to destroy all the work I and many others had done. And while the war isn't completely over, and some rumblings can still be heard, the outcome is clear. The hub has become something much closer to what we wanted. But like in all good tragedies, I have understood that I can fight hard and long, but that fighting takes a heavy toll on me: I loose faith and amidst the success I can be left like an empty shell.

I have learned that in order to do what I want to do in life I have to find a way to avoid conflict, not to make it a central part of my existence. Because, just as I proved to myself how good I could be in my work (the launch of the hub in Milan called in over 1000 people, and 270 became members within 9 months of the launch), just as my leadership was paving the way for the accomplishments of those around me whom I had chosen, I found myself at the centre of conflict, questioned, accused, untrusted by these very people I had given my trust to. Is this the inevitable consequence of success? This year has made me think long and hard about the delicate balance between leadership and participation. My time in Milan has triggered a lot of doubts, with violent conflict erupting constantly around me despite the obvious sucess of it all. Irony and tragedy. I found myself drawn to F's totalitarian theories: command and control. Can I really reconcile this with my strife for a flatter, networked, democratic and emergent world?


I certainly find that this last year of life in Italy has drained me of all faith towards humans in any position of power, but has also left me in a doubtful position towards humans without any power at all. Neither really seem to understand what their responsibilities are. Both seem stalled in a fruitless battle, unable to move forward. This year was the last I spent working full time in Italy. My dealings will continue, but from afar. My vision becomes too blurred in that country. Too much decay. Too much infighting. Too much incompetence masked as experience. Too much blunt hypocricy. That country is not good for the soul and certainly not good for talented individuals who want to change the world. A world of old men fearful of the deluge that is rising around them. They will all drown, and personally I hope the floods take as many as possible down in the deep dark corners of the Oceans with them. What used to be a love-hate relationship with Italy has now become bored disgust. Funny that even a staunch supporter of the country - and of its decaying capital in particular - like Tot F should in the end take a graceful exit towards better pastures. Funny and timely. For both of us.


Third: the house. Well, of all three this has been the closest to a complete FIASCO. It all started quite well (doesn't it always?). Workers move in, a schedule is set and everyone reassures us that "these guys are pretty good, not like other builders!". And sure enough, when the first completion date arrives, so does the first completion date rescheduling. From June to July. Then again, from July to August. But by the time the third date-change arrives - from August to September - our bags are packed and the moving-in date set, so the move happens anyway, despite the house being in a complete state. Hence, 3 month of hell start, moving in-and-out of the house to try to accommodate builders' needs in the vain hope that they will finish in time, this time. September, October, November go by. Lady V is getting bigger, Nicolo' is moving around faster, yet the house remains unfinished. And while we hoped it would be done by Xmas 2010, it is now NYE and the house is still littered with unfinished jobs.

Our hearts are now consciuos of the fact that this house, in some way, will never be completed as we thought it would. But, without a proper bang, without a housewarming party, without the breaking of bottles onto its front doow, I can safely say it already feels like home. The dining table has already hosted many dinners. The library/projector room is full of wonderful books and arty filth, action flicks and trashy TV DVDs that have already started being screened onto the white wall. And - to me most importantly - I have a room to call my own again. After 2 years of sofa-beds and rented holes, of packing bags and loosing clothes, finally a place that will be my nest for years to come. I needed it. 2010 ends on a good note. Home is where your loved ones, yes. But also where you know you have a bed to call your own!


The last, but certainly not least, mention in this list of achievements (although it cannot be said to be entirely mine) is Tot T's transfer over to the Old Continent. I don't think I have managed to express to him how grateful I am for this, and how brave I think he is. Jumping into a completely new life, despite its familiarity, away from the comforts of home. Embracing an adventure with little certainties and a lot of question marks. Fun, yes, but also challenging, for him, for me, for all. And yet, so far, so good. This is an achievement. Not many relationships manage to get this far. I consider myself lucky since ours has and it still gives so much joy to us both.


Again, here too there is a silver lining. For one Tot brought over to the Old Continent, there is one lost to the New one. A splendid new life, close to Little J, and to glorious S in NYC. But still, I miss her. I wish I could just jump in a cab and go feel up her beautiful bosom for comfort. I wish we could just be silly together, watching an array of ridiculous movies, drinking G&T (me) and VodPom (her) into the night, talking nonesense until the wee hours, inventing the scripts that will make us rich and famous, discussing whether the Vatican should be razed to the ground (me) or declared a protected species (her).

Finally, this year's review would sound far too serious and would not be complete without some of this year's lesser (in comparison) achievements, rigorously in list-form, in true Tot fashion:

- No. of first-ever public DJ performances: 1
- No. of kick-ass porno parties held in order to show off abovementioned DJ skills: 1
- No. of costume-changes during abovementioned party: 3
- No. of flights taken (33, I counted them!)
- No. of litres of oil produced in Tuscany: 28
- No. of new friends that I can call such: 5 (DJ S - yes, can't say I really knew her before this year - Andrea, Nadia, Lord Leng and Efi)
- No. of days of bliss in Vermont: 7
- No. of days of near-bliss had it not been for the death-marches in Maine: 3
- No. of new dances experimented: 1 (line-dancing. awesome)
- No. of barwomen befriended in Brooklyn and convinced to come work in London: 1
- No. of new countries visited: 0 (unless we count Maine as a country, which I don't. very bad. not to be repeated in 2011)
- No. of fab weddings attended in sumptuous English estates: 1
- No. of old drugs aborted: 1 (cigarettes, 3.5 months without them and counting!)
- No. of G&Ts turned down in order to make sure soldiers were in tip-top form to produce a hearty N.: countless.
- No. of G&Ts downed following said conception: countless.
- No. of rippled abs achieved through sweaty gym sessions: 0.
- No. of hours spent in front of mirror worrying about said abs: enough to get a perfect six pack if they had been spent at the gym instead.
- No. of new dishes mastered: probably 2 (brasato di manzo, prawn stir-fry, can't way it's a huge achievement, but it's something...)
- No. of trees killed in order to celebrate a Christian festivity: 1
- No. of Bejeweled Blitz games played try to beat DJ S's score: over 400, and counting...

As for next year: lots of resolutions, of course. And judging by how 2010 went, this time most of them will be achieved! Rah.

27 October, 2009

Sometimes...

... all you need is a pick me up...



A reminder that when it all becomes a bit too much, there are always cartoons!

"Milan, darling. Milan!"

06 July, 2009

Poised and pissed (off)



Am in a horrid state probably still due to Glasto comedown and having to return to Milan which frankly now does no longer interest me or amuse me. Plus that flatmate of mine blowing a nice date we had here, one of a few diversions from the usual Milan scene. Needless to say, am furious.

But then, again, I am also poised at the idea of going back to London tomorrow to perform the sacred duty. While others have their spirits high, I personally have very little hope, which is why it might actually work this time: the female who is in control is going to allow the 1 determined soldier to push on through and break into the oval vestibule.

So we'll see how it goes. Don't expect updates soon, or stories of any sort. There will be a total embargo this time for superstitious reasons. Yes, like all couples we have caved in to the unnecessary and will now start looking away contemptuously every time THE subject is brought up by others.

Full stop. Now go back to whatever you were doing.

08 October, 2008

Milan, yah


With all of you posting furiously about your lives, I feel a little blackmailed into doing the same. Mind you, I will still do what I want, when I want to. But in this case, I will indulge you a little.

So, as Lady V pointed out, the first few weeks in Milan have been rather eventful. Naturally we're both being terribly cool ad fashionable, wearing only the laterst knitwear and hopping around in flaming pink Vespas.

Well. Not really.

I have rocked a bike up from Tuscany, and am now riding my favourite means of transport in possibly the most cycle-unfriendly city I have ever visited. Why? Well, to begin with, most of the roads are covered in this:


As if bumping up and down on these little buggers wasn't enough, occasionally I find myself having to cross through these:


The combination of trecherous gaps and slippery metals has already made me fall twice in front of indifferent passerbys. Thus I REFUSE to stop using my helmet - considered terribly unfashionable in the fashion capital - since I know at some point I am going to get hit by someone.

The living situation, as some of you have already been able to hear from me, is far from ideal. In a mock-1960s Doris Day and Rock Hudson sitcom, we sleep side-by-side in the little space available to us, while my sister camps in the livign room. I feel like a member of the Frank family, except if I remember well her and Peter had their own sleeping spaces, so you see it's worse than the Holocaust, or at least Vietnam.

Hopefully this will change soon, but I doubt so.

The rest of the time is spent journeying up and down the peninsula to reach our beloved litte Tuscan retreat. There, it must be said, I still have my room, which makes going to bed a really pleasant affair. Lots of movie-watching, lots of relaxing, and the occasional bureaucratic nightmare to do with the chicken shed. Gosh. Don't even get me started, but let me say that the little derelict building will end up costing us more than a flat in New York.

I am now in London, about to go back. A quick visit to do with the launch of the King's Cross Hub, which looks amazing. Coming back made me realise how much I love this city, which in a sense is my real home, and how much I want to make sure I come back here soon. Milan will never be my home, although, for the time being, it's really cool to be there. Truth be said, I miss everyone here, I miss the long evening rants around the table with Little P and Little H, I miss hanging out with P&M talking about life and Tuvan throat singing, I miss A's little rants about the banking system and D's dark humour, I miss B's fondness for turquoise, and G's reassuring presence.

Ok, enough of this. Off today, back to the Dark Heart of the Med, ready to kick ass.

And you'll just see, 6 months from now we'll all be celebrating huge victories and planning how to take over the world...

07 March, 2008

Waiting period


According to Wikipedia:

A waiting period is a period of time which one must wait in order for a specific action to occur, after that action is requested or mandated. The term is commonly used in reference to gun control in the United States, where some U.S. states required a person to wait for a set number of days after buying or reserving a firearm at a dealer before actually taking possession of it.


I am tired of waiting...

22 July, 2007

32, and counting...


Some omens are good. For example randomly opening a book about photographs that changed the world - most of them dramatic and war-related - onto the image of a couple embracing at Woodstock.

Yes. The harvest will be plentiful.

08 June, 2007

Two images...

... representing my state of mind these days...