Posts originally in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull between 2005 and 2008.
I really regret the disappearance of iPhoto Library/Albums/ đ
I searched around and found on a forum that with iPhoto 5, Apple has beefed up the virtual-album system. And adding insult to injury, I read that one doesn’t need to know a thing about the organisation of one’s hard disk to use iPhoto.
Hrmpf.
[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]
The thing with butterflies is that they just canât fly in a straight line. You think youâre avoiding them, or not in their path and all of a sudden they are at you.
For that reason, I donât much like them. Well I like them, theyâre lovely, itâs just that they scare me.
So this entry is in the âFunnyâ category so that you feel free to make fun of me. Naturally, itâs also in the âuseless crapâ category, for good measure.
[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]
Italy, Bologna, Hotel Holiday near via dellâIndipendenza. Itâs well after midnight. Iâm at the window. I light a cigarette and as I place the lighter back in the pack, both escape my clumsy hands âdumb me!â and fall noisily in the corner of the inner courtyard, a few stories below.
This is a roof, really. And it seems there are only windows around it; only one is lit. Alerted by the noise, somebody downstairs looks out their window; I see an arm pushing a shutter wide open.
I have more cigarettes in my backpack. But no spare lighter. Iâd prefer to act now. I hope the people in the room downstairs will open their door when I knock. Itâs almost 1 am.
âBuona sera, â I announce when a man opens the door enough to show his face and let the TV sound flow out of the room. âSono nella camera al terzo piano e le mie sigarette sono cadutte dalla finestra.â
Iâm in the room on the third floor and I dropped my cigarettes through the window. He raises his eyebrows and remains quiet.
âE possibile che vado fuori dalla vostra finestra?â I ask while my hand is pointing at myself first and then in the general direction of beyond those walls.
Is it possible for me to go outside through your window? The man remains silent as he nods.
âGrazie!â I thank him as he opens the door to let me in. As I pass him I notice heâs wearing boxer shorts and thatâs it.
The room is smaller than mine. There is a woman on the bed. I smile apologetically at her. She looks very perplexed as I cross the room. Below the waist sheâs wearing panties, and above, sheâs wearing⌠an open bookâŚ
I dash to the window that is already open, sit on the window sill, pivot outside, walk a few steps, pick up my pack of cigarettes and soon I pivot again inside the room. I make sure they see the cigarettes as I re-enter their room.
Not much has changed in the minute it took me. The man is now on the bed, lying next to the woman who hasnât moved at all. The door is closed.
âGrazie milla, e scusa.â Thanks a lot, and sorry.
One last embarassed smile and Iâm out of here.
As I was reliving the event in my own room, I thought of Mister Poggi. He was my Italian teacher at school some fifteen years ago. And I imagined writing him a letter to describe how his lessons had just been useful to me.
[This post originally appeared in Dullicious, where I blogged as Barbie-dull for several years.]
So, I guess we are who we are for a lot of reasons. And maybe weâll never know most of them. but even if we donât have the power to choose where we come from, we can still choose where we go from there. We can still do things. And we can try to feel okay about them.
I think that if I ever have kids, and they are upset, I wonât tell them that people are starving in China or anything like that because it wouldnât change the fact that they were upset. And even if somebody else has it much worse, that doesnât really change the fact that you have what you have. Good and bad.
The perks of being a wallflower, Stephen Chbosky