righe fra i banchi

mhhh...
e quanto sei felice quando abbracci un sconosciuto che ami
un sconosciuto che dopo ore e ore di coccole e amore ancora nn riconosci come tutto tuo..
ma quasi quasi

e quanto é bello leggere righe d'amore scritte fra favole e racconti...
righe che ti raccontano di un amore che pensavi fosse inesistente, invece forse esiste:)

call me a HUman

Feelings.
i have many of them
so many that sometimes my heart seems to be too little to contain them all
it pours itself out filling my body
my Self feed herself on them
happy or sad
sometimes without a reason
or an explanation
i get carried away
as a ship with open sails
tossed around at the sea...

In sooth, I know not why I am so sad:
It wearies me; you say it wearies you;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn;
And such a want-wit sadness makes of me,
That I have much ado to know myself.
/W. Shakespeare: The Mercnat of Venice, Sceen I., Antonio/

http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/book/search?author=Shakespeare%2C+William

Having seen the film-version (with Al Pacino, Jeremy Irons, Jospeh Finnes and Lynn Collins) my mind got filled with those emotions(we call thoughts) yet in a funny way i find it difficult to express them.

Prof. Géza Kállay's discussion of the play and the film gave tracks for me...track along which i may choose to run...

but how do i talk about flesh and blood
to whom do i talk about humanity
and humiliation?
Cut out a piece of a flesh from a men's chest yet let there be no drop of blood.
Cut out, kill, destroy and eat may all symbolize what we commonly call 'hatred'
but isnt wanting to take, possess, or eat the heart of the other a vital part of what we may commonly call 'love'?

Where is the line(if exists at all) that separates hatred from love?
Can i fight with that whom i hate? yes. can i fight with that whom i love? yes. can i fight with that who is indifferent to me? no.

hatred is not the opposite of love. indifference is. when you hate someone you atully love him/her..or at least want to...
exactly the way Shylock and Antonio feel for each other. their hatred almost a love. their differences disappearing in the moment they humiliate each other.

you may only be humiliated by that whom you love.

commenting on the lack of comments

There. another mystery undone.
the lack of comments was (probably) not due to lack of interest(or thoughts)but because i did not put a tick in the right box and so most people(not with gmail)could not possibly comment even if (possibly maybe) they have found a line worthy of that.

Yet, i have got this in the morning, an offer, rather than a comment:

"I cordially invite you to come take a ride in my thoughts
Switch memory lanes while we dreamin, wanderin
And in return I'll strip my inhibitions
And go skinny dipping in your stream of consciousness"

Then i find out that it is from a song from a band called:CunninLynguists
and even though i do not know them
i like those lines
and unwrapping myself
my flesh(and blood as they do belong together)
sinks into a strange silence between the lines
while my mind keeps rattling and rattlin n rattlin

ex-planations

Yesterday i've spent the day screaming. inside. so unnerved i almost didnt do anything wasting my energies in trying to find out calm down wanting to scream at the top of my lungs and cry and ask for help.
silence is unbearable sometimes.

this autumn is difficult.
the reason dear reader is more than simple: the cold makes my heart remember.

and so i find myself running down to Nyugati to watch a Danish film (Prag - from ole C. Madsen) and as I get off the tram and walk up to Toldi(name of the movie) it suddenly dawn on me:
i want to go and have a tea with Eszter.
i slow my steps, close my eyes, not knowing whether to cry or laugh and i remeber:

buying a yellow rose to make her day
sipping warm tea learning about her past and present
eating a surprise-dinner after a long day
sitting on a bed talking about my broken hopes
leaving a party to scold and wipe her tear when her hopes are gone
strolling in shoppingcentre not knowing how to confort her
talking on the phone telling her i love her
throwing the phone on my bed with anger and pain when hearing the indifference in her voice
fear washing over my body when the phone goes dead
standing in front of a door
praying for her not to be in there

and i want to go back in time. ..and drink tea with her.
and i cant.

i like the film, and i like drinking wine and chatting with friends afterwards.
and falling to bed right after hugging my sister.

but i dream dreams of the past. of a man who has failed me.
and i wake feelin suffocated.
and i yearn to be loved.

and i hope to learn to forgive:
her - who did not understand my love
him - who did not know what love was

but most of all: to myself.

Izzy, pain, thoughts

im not a particular tv-fan...let alone tv-series (most of which i find so annoying and 'brain-damaging' that when i see fam.members sitting in front of the telly with a dum expression on theri faces i feel a strong and sudden urge to switch it off,and read to them if they feel to tired to do so alone.)

but Grey's Anatomy is one of the few i have found myself waiting week after week.
at first it was only the good-to-watch film when huge piles of clotes-to-be-ironed were waiting for me in the living room...
then, one day i have found myself describing the names of the key characters to my mother telling her to choose this film if she really feels like watching something

no character was more important than the other, no emotion portrayed in the film stronger than the other. all of it was so human, so understandable.

moralizing, yes. but not more or worse than the fable about the ant and the cricket...

but before the 'summer break'(i have learnt most series have them..so that tv-companies dont lose regular viewers away on the holiday who'd not be happy not being able to follow the story once having missed some episodes)...so before the break Izzy lost her man...i remember having had to sit down (ironing left off) in order to feel strong enough to watch.

then the summer has brought me a lot of changes .. most of which took place inside of me.
then september has brought new decisions: staying(voting for family and stability) and work(mainly teaching and kids and growth and only partly coping with problems and pain of others)

september has also brought with memories of last year and an incredibly strong wish to undo.
undo in the sense of unlocking.
if i could ask for a miracle i'd not want her alive again(i do not wish to undo death) but i'd wish to triple the length of the days spent with her.
then i had to realize that i cannot undo her absence.
and i cannot undo the pain i feel every time i notice her absence.
pain is with a reason. always.

then in october Grey's Anatomy continued...and I sat bewildered.
unable to breath, or cry, unable to move or yell,
unable to whisper or shout,
unable to hurt or to defend.
I sat watching a girl laying unmoving on a carpet
at the command of a director
and someone else who knew HOWto portray the way
I have FELT month before.

Not hysteric.
not alive.
not dead.
just stuck.
numb.
in purgatory.

Izzy spoke and her words sank deep into me.
as she lay on the floor talking about a world too suddenly changed
not knowing how did she arrive where she was
on the floor
in a balldress
at a night when she was supposed to be celebrating
not knowing where all the pain was from
or who she was
or waht pushed her on the floor
hte only stable thing
unmoving.

Then Izzy standing in front of the hospital for hours and hours. unmoving. still.
(of course you'd not stand there for hours. but you feel like. and everything is slow motion. and repetitive like her muffins.)
and hurting like hell,all over.

and god knows why but i felt relief.
relief watching that pain pictured.
nurturing the feeling of:
having survived.
and feeling happy.

knowing of course that happiness is a relative thing.
it is rather a certain kind of peace.
and safety.
a point in life in which i can be made happy and i can make other happy
but i still think many sad thoughts
(in silence, and alone, and writing, like now
not publicly
but semi-publicly
fearing responses
but hoping for them)

and sometimes..sometimes i really feel very full, and very alive
and i feel emotions(good ones) washing over me
cleansing my body from all
that is left of the pain

in moments like that i close my eyes and think very hard of one person
and of the love i have to give to him.

eyes closed

with eyes closed you sit again in front of the screen of your computer that vibrates.
it is time to clear certain things.
like your room.
you go to the door, tear photos off..gently..not to cause any harm
slowly rub blu-tech off
the photos beuild up a pile and the plu-tech rolls into a ball in your hand
you think about all the faces you look at and all those you dont
you sigh when noticing
that uncounsciously though,
but there is an order of the things posted up there.
some mean a lot:
these you tear off slower, hold them longer gazing at the faces and the past smiles
other you tear off as if in haste, bury them turning them upside down
again other seem unknown,
having been there but not having been looked at you wonder if they are
or ever were really a part of your life

you go to another piece of your wall
face the sticky-surfaced empty post-wall
and put on three photos connected in a line:
'light-peace-hope' that1s the title...
but since hidden behind only you know it and only you know why do you put a bookmark with a smiling cat underneath.

reaching for a colorful postcard of holland your fingers begin to hesitate
you put it in the middle, but tear it off, post it somewhere else and remain unsatisfied.
you decide to change tactics and follow insticts.
you begin to reach for photos and post them on the wall
one after the other one
very fast,
not thinking but feeling
and all of a sudden the floer-fields of holland find there place
exactly above the place where you rest your head each night.

having gone so far you face the clean door and post a heart on it.
right above the doorknob.
other than that,
you leave it empty.
just in case...
you need to fill it with soemthing:
new.

body and

body.
my body feels restless.
its un-touched-ness creating a
what is it?
a storm nearing?
unslept nights?
dreams about...?

body. my body wants to reach across the table kiss, eat and satisfy itself.
i could then dress up again and walk away.

body.
my body is needing.
and i know what she wants
yet i cannot give it to her.

if i let her command:
where will i be brought?

will i not freeze in the middle of it,
call it off and then feel ridiculous?
or will i enjoy and then what?

my body is hungry dictator.
she commands me to do things against my disciplines.
my heart understands her. she knows what hunger is.
yet she knows she is not to be fed where the body is.

it is a great dilemma.
whereas it shouldnt be.

beneath it all is this:
i think my heart is a kamikaze. she is moody and so irrational.
at least my body i can understand.
but i cannt satisfy her.
i have made a promise to my heart.

i wish i was strong enough to keep it.

tug-of-war

stepping in to the 26th year of your life you wake with an immense headache, your phone buzzing, work waiting to be done

you fall back in bed, hide under the blanket and dream dreams about the men you have loved

having passed the magical 25 you realzie that nothing changes

and that finiding a mate is something that doesnt happen easily and never when or the way you want it

with eyes closed, vienes throbbing with pain (waiting for the caffé and some painkillers) you once again start reflecting

and you conclude that

distance and little possibility to spend time together doesnt affect the strength of love

at least as regards friendships

and distance and limitied possibilities dont affect the strength of love

as regads LOVE

but they do effect other things that although dont effect Love itself,

effect what people bring out of situations they are in.

way past midnight you find yourself in the midst of some man screaming you are single

not even two minutes later you contradict yourself

again a bit later

(since you want to be single)

you find yourself expalining to a german why is it that you would not and could not be the girlfrind of someone living in 1000kms of distance

he makes a comment on how fascinating you are

and for a flash of time your face becomes clouded by terror

you take a second look at him and realize you are talking to him (out of many) due to his germaic looks, a resablance

out of anger

somewhat later you find yoursefl face to fice with the borther of your loved one

and instead of screaming single

you fight

and forgive

you walk home in the cold

thinking about the

tug-of-war in your heart created by distance

and realize that you are somewhat torn between your reson and heart

making a decision would probably help.

or admitting that you have already made a decision a long time ago.

with eyes closed (caffé finito) you count the days left until his arrival.

your heart feels alive, and that's good.

but your reason tells you he has made a different decision.

you are 26. torn. and on the emotional roller-coaster playing tug-of-war with yourself.