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Good deeds make

Today I have done a good deed. Yes, I! So I feel entitled to behave badly for the rest of the day. Back from my iron therapy (seems out of this world, but it's easy to iron therapy, in my case intravenous) I found an old man who tried to sign up for spelling the word Radiology. What tenderness! Ignoring the little devil in my head that I suggested (and later I would have said "good reason") to turn a blind eye because some other good Samaritan would have offered, I'm back on my feet and I asked her if she needed. Yes, like most of the old guys took it away. This morning got up early and went outside to get some 'wood for the water heater. Because it has a kitchen with a wood heater that works. In the wood as he took a chip's index is stuck and although he used some tricks to get it out the naughty refused. So, as gradually he felt his arm paralyzed, his son told him to go to hospital. And there has dropped. Alone. So I went down the hall, then the elevator (I hate elevator), -2 to department. I wanted to make sure that someone would take care of him, but I thought only the stairs and I was not good enough to go back. We say that good deed I have done only half. Better than nothing right? And since I like the law of tit for tat I would expect an immediate reward. What is, otherwise, do good deeds?
Now I just have to make that final effort and then will come the weekend. Nothing is sweeter than the day before a holiday. Full of expectation and all the possibilities ahead. Before me, this weekend, I have a set of nano teapots, poppies, micro kittens and crutches pseudo tutu. I'll do all this stuff? I can give them a decent role? Or end up in the maw of the fireplace? Tonight will read the sentence. I judge and I executioner. Meanwhile
chasing a dream. Another.

The more I close my eyes, then we see better, because
all day watching things unworthy of notice;
but when I sleep .....

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Anonymous II - the anonymous coward

Post by Anonymous:
Dearest, I am not a coward ... I used your same method. I think that your blog does not write .... ( here and put my name anonymous ).
'm still happy to have provoked your response ... I felt more aggressive and less whining in the answer.
I can not deny that often share your thoughts, especially when you write about injustice, colleagues and characters in your città.Ma remains that do not like you, and you know why? Why spit judgments on everyone and everything with such malice. Even on those who do not deserve it, like your family and your land. Remember that you are part of you, you are their daughter and you're not different.

Bravo! You know who I am, but I do not know. Not at all. And I'm curious to know who you are. The post is not the public, the report here. I decided to censor only one thing: my last name, because in this blog I am Lighea. In real life I have certainly a name and a surname that accompany me for a while '. I do not see, then, why should I sign them with the last name and not my name. We're not in school? We must make the call? Or is your one way, and here we go again, to despise, to distance themselves from what they are and what I write? Nothing, for whatever reason.
I do not like me. Perfectly free to think and write. See? I have not censored. I do not mind please. Quoting a song by Gucci: Sorry it's my pleasure. I love being hated. At this point, if we take literally the phrase, I have achieved my purpose. I managed not to like. I should be happy. But as obvious contentment a chronic pessimist like me? Who knows! Write to spit
judgments. But first, I rinse your mouth well. I write what I feel and what I think. If you write "my" truth is a sin I do not know what to tell you. In everyday life, I say what I think trying to be as diplomatic as possible. For this I have a blog: I write what I think and feel without being so much to think about the log to hold. And 'my vent and when one takes out diplomacy does not exist. But do you ever get angry?
condemn me because I speak ill of my parents and my land. Oh God! The family is a thorny issue where the saying, you have to wash the dirty clothes. You have no arguments to judge what I write to my parents because it was not you to be grown from them. I do not hate them or despise them, but I have evidence to assess them and are free to assign ratings that sometimes (I say sometimes) go under the sufficiency. The family is untouchable, is sacred! This says a priest or babbione. The family is composed of people and people make mistakes. Ever read "Letter to His Father," Kafka's "Sons and Lovers" by Lawrence?

And now is the turn of my city, my native land. I do not believe in this bond. The character, experiences, passions, bind us to certain places and there is our land. Mine is not one in which I live. I'm just a number and my absence or my presence here is more than marginal. This parochialism by Paper Heart do not understand it. I like the color of the sky before the storm, I love the rain and cold. Have you ever seen what are beautiful cliffs of Dover? I've been there I left a piece of heart. The other I left in the English countryside. After years and years to feel a stranger in my house I could find my place in the world. A place that fits me perfectly. Have you ever worn this coat in which you do not feel at ease? Too tight or too loose or pull on one side or pinch the fabric? Did you ever take off these clothes and wear something comfortable that we have peace with the world? Well: the suit uncomfortable is the city where I live, the other is the place where I felt truly at home. I will then free to fill the wardrobe of clothes in my life I want?

... You wrote dearest, but, as you see, I have not taken up the challenge!

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cumulonimbus Today I head has widened. And 'huge, overflowing. I'm upset, they made me angry. Dear Anonymous
is easy to spit out judgments. I know because I've done well. Read four lines, some delusions of the human soul and in a second I think I understand everything, but you did not understand anything. It 's still easier to judge if you are hiding behind anonymity, a symptom of cowardice. I accept the opinions of others, but must have a face, a name behind it, even if unknown. In this case you can insult me, criticize, ridicule. Not
call me "dear." Dear anyone who is around us and we care. It is enough. Its use in other contexts do not like. And then, there is a clarification because I have to say nothing, I am envious. I hate the feeling envious at least as much appeal as "dear." Frustrated yes, even then. But I do not think there's anything wrong with that.
What does it mean frustrated? Open a dictionary. "Psychological state of defeat and disappointment that occurs in those who are confronted with insurmountable difficulties judged."
I do not think that the definition is so correct. Judge surmountable ... it means that the situations are considered such, but in reality they are not. Not above. Could be, but happen to find themselves in situations that you can not manage despite our will. But I'll bet you've used the term disparagingly, or, if your intention had been different, would not have said that they are poisoned or envious. Then uses terms which do not fully know the meaning. And this is bad, especially when you go to someone writing. Every word is weighed, studied in order to avoid misunderstandings.
You give me pictures like a lost soul who walks grazing the walls, looking sinister to me who passes by, especially if more fortunate than me. Put me in a basement as well, give me hand in ingredients such as frog legs, laughing witch and I become the stepmother of Snow White. Do not make me laugh. I do not want. I examine, examine me, I study and I often critical. I know where I can get and what I know is foreclosed. Do you think I should suffer for this? It 's all more complicated, harder to understand and do not even want you to understand. These things are mine and I decide what the limits beyond which it will not discover, even in this blog. Do not make me petty
philosophy. Do not act like a garbage Coelho literature. Who strives to live positive thinking is not stupid, it's just silly. I also dream, often with open eyes, but I know what is the reality. If we were not able to separate what is real from what we want yet children are the principles that one day, other astronauts, and some superheroes.
I would understand, then, as it attracts this negativity! Gufando? I'm not superstitious. Or as a dowser, stick in hand, I'm going to look for the misfortunes? It 's all very ridiculous. There is no basis for comparison, but then who suffer from hunger, war, violence? It 's all people who do not think positive? It draws upon the misfortunes?
Watching people live and feel disheartened to hear your life going on tracks dead does not mean being envious of others' lives. Leopards living reflection of and wrote beautiful pages. And how do you live? You're always optimistic, you're the one who always sees the glass half full? Have you ever felt lost? Do you have what you want? Good for you. Every morning I put on my armor and face the world, maybe the wrong way, but I do. My way. Often I lose, sometimes draw. I never won and if I sometimes envy the victories of others is not with malice. Dream for me the best things, like everyone else, as I think you do well. E 'lawful, allowed. And 'human.

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My cas (S)

I'm singing in the rain, Just singing in the rain. What a glorious Fellini ', I'm unhappy again ....
small change to the text, but minor stuff. I spent almost the whole night sleepless, I collected water in the room, I swore not succeeding in falling into vulgarity. I searched for solutions to no avail, I walked backwards all my years and at an early stage I decided to get up and picked up even more water and then went to work. Here I have to endure the crazy fellow who cries, gets angry, curses, hangs himself what belongs to others, flutters around and does nothing but say that without him things would go down the drain. Too bad, though, that when she is not there, but noticed the lack of work more and work better. Congratulations to those who have evaluated. Slept? On one of those who has always considered sleeping, my question does not make much sense. I just have to take to keep from the neck and beat my face against the wall until it disintegrates. This is what you call killer instinct? Or is the normal result of a disturbing attitude? After all the flies and mercilessly crush anybody who ever ended up in jail.
Today the sun is shining on the ruins of my mood. Bastard! I would like to shout Tatangelo. Almost, almost, that the sun would make me want it. The sun dries and warms, so does the tears I can not do particular down? All this has dried (ah ah ah that the word falls in bean) my creativity. Yesterday I turned a rocking horse in owl that I reduced to a shapeless pulp and burned in the flames of the fireplace. Mamma mia what a smell! They were horrible things, because my soul is horrible right now. Is not the way of the saints who intend to go. I do not care at all, never wanted to be a nun, a martyr, nor do I care to set a good example. Quite simply, I do not do to others what was done, I would not like me. I seem to be bound by this blessed gospel, even if I sull'agnostico (choice Paraculo) atheist going.
Soon I will go away from here and come back in my comfortable shell, that is for another home for me is defeated.

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Ah, smoke rose that was not flame be strong and serene even in the days of adversity fate

When it rains it does not rain in the wet, it rains inside my house. This is a novelty that adds to the many interventions that I should do at home and extends the end of the tunnel. Sometimes I get the feeling of driving a car and losing pieces along the way. How much longer must I have patience before you breathe a sigh of relief? Through my next piece of life: people who buy houses, new clothes, new cars. There are those who arrange their marriage, who offers trips to his girlfriend, who rent the second home, those who inherit it. All people I know well and I want someone good. It is not envy what I feel, but discouragement. "And yet it moves" ... would Galilei.
do not know if there is a scientific explanation as to why it is easy for someone and not for others. Maybe it's just case studies or Fate really exists that I imagined as a child with an old coat, long hair, beard and fingers dry and long. A little 'as God knows they are not the same thing. And I do not care to hear the usual phrase of "think positive". Risk appearing foolish and I do not.
I would say, then, spiteful mannikin that can make me well down the roof on his head, flooding the house, make sure you get to the second flood. I like the rain and I will continue to hate the sun. Although these days I guess buried in the rubble, and immobilized with a huge gecko that I walk on the face. Dear spiteful little man, you can also make my life a hell, but you can not bring myself to hate the things I love since I was born.
It 's true, now I'm down in tone, but I defy anyone who is able, living a life full of contrasts, from walking and jumping, whistling the songs of The Sound of Music. But we are fools? Why pretend to be nice and perky some days I more exhausting than others. Also show the form that others expect from you, but the evening is the whole sum accumulated fatigue: one due to my problems and that due to the fiction.
If I had the opportunity to shut the door behind him and leave out the mundane problems of course I would not be here feeling sorry for himself. E 'as a child that the dark hood difficulties hung inside the house. By dint of living in the fog by force, once met the sun, this offends you eyes.
Someone to love you, say you should only expect to know that things are bound to improve, but I do not believe it. Because I'm older and these dark years will live much longer and because I did not clear the landing that he does. I do things I have to drag them behind me and I hear them on the shoulder and stomach, just like the guy with the wild boar of advertising on his stomach.
I think should give up to feel better again, for the umpteenth time. Losing again to restore peace, or try one last time effort because the thought becomes action, hoping to not end up like Giuseppe Mazzini.

to sleep Some nights I start to read, and instead
I need moments of silence.
Sometimes even with you, and you know I love you, I get angry unnecessarily
no real reason.
On the roads in the morning the traffic is too exhausting to me, I get nervous
traffic lights and the stop sign, and return in the evening with special ailments.
do not need tranquilizers or medications
it takes another life.
on couches, abandoned in a remote hand background stories
Dallas Rich and weep.
Police's third subway line that advances,
and triple parked cars in a row,
and return in the evening with boredom and fatigue.
are not the most exciting or ideologies
it takes another life.

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anger

the abyss and my perfect sense of balance. If I tilt my head just a little 'down finish. I'm a tightrope walker in my circus life, but there are no spectators, and if there are, the majority has undertaken to look elsewhere. I do not like the circus. The clowns disturbing me, I feel sorry for the animals, the circus people seem bad and dirty: too much makeup, too many sequins on costumes!
Here we go again, my colleague believes to be irresistible, with the nonchalance of someone who has experience of many years of idleness, I saddled one thing to do to you direct. It 'something that takes no more than five minutes, but because it makes me angry. Throws it there, as if she were too high to deal with trivial things. The problem is that there is even more important things. The take out of charity? To give you the ability to change phones every three months, buying designer clothes and belts? They do this because you are going around with the economy? But then it is a heroine. Save the world from crisis! Oh, you're not the only example of doing nothing. We say that the excellent competition. Some people sleep, those who play the stock market, who shall keep reading eight hours a day, online newspapers, the users of corporate resources to do their job. The usual Italy. And then we wonder why you have the pieces in the ass.
waiters are still looking for pubs in Britain? Give me room and board and also tomorrow. I carry my silly craft jobs and who knows that is not the right time. Coming back down to earth ... I have a house in disorder, hemoglobin zero, a current account that cries for help and no one hears him, his stomach on strike ... I know that under the earth has not only the roots, there are up to their ears.

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Bread Bread

If I had given up the second page to read the intention of the Prague Cemetery Umberto Eco, I would have committed an unforgivable mistake. This book is simply wonderful. Hilarious description of Jews, Germans, French and the Italians and especially that of the priests that while referring to those of the nineteenth century still resembles to contemporary. Unreal real characters in a story that flows nicely without ever boring the reader. I had at home for months, but those first two pages I had made hostile. Then, thanks to a long wait in the "waiting room", I forced my strength and now I'm overjoyed.
I was again at large in this period, but I swear he did not put his nose out of the tower. I worked hard, hopefully not in vain. I refer to the hard work done (and I'm continuing to do) to turn my idea into reality. I have a website under construction, a brochure in perpetual change, and some pieces ready in progress. I know that all of the time could be lost, but if I do now I never will. Now that people are investing in my crazy idea I can not draw back. I am, for once, the leader of the group.
Yes, I, the eternal second: the second daughter, the second grandson, the second on youth games .. and then the second (or last?) to work. What has always worked hard and in the end they have never won anything. Well I'll be a certainty, but now I think even this will serve as considering the time they run. Anyway I decided to throw myself into something more extravagant life that satisfies my talents (if I may call them that) artists that I have set aside in the name of economic security that I have achieved.
I never want to see my ideas stolen by others who came for the first time and possibility. I might refer to the tea room, the one time I wanted to achieve. Instead, it is checked as a fungus, from evening to morning, a little 'more like hippies than I want, with furniture and organization from "people on the left-half-oriental-ecologist with indie music in the background." It is not a criticism, for heaven's sake, the restaurant is cozy and the girls are nice, but my tea room, would be another matter entirely. Meanwhile I would like an Old-England style, the wood paneling on the walls, many libraries full of books to read pickled and then the splash cup-cakes filled with colorful, floor-bound lead-glass Tiffany, comfortable armchairs and lots of tea, many flavored water boiled on the stove with no steam, because it ruins the taste of tea. But I think my Cat, so I chose the name well, will never see the light!
So I diverted to something that requires an investment at no cost (it was enough to give up a pair of new boots and bought some clothes to balance), but to which I am devoting the same energy.
And so here I am, with the sword of Damocles hanging over the head, committed to driving out the bad thoughts and anxieties of the time and energy to invest even more angry against injustice, like Don Quixote.
are old enough to understand that the world will never be perfect as we imagine. Also because everyone has his own conception of "perfect". I would take a more polite society. And I refer not only to educate the obligation to respond to greetings, give way to who is behind you, respond with if we are carrying something.
I wish that you respect people whatever role they occupy in society, regardless of their appearance and their economic and social power. I like you could talk to each other without hatch inside the safe to be better, stronger, better looking, more lucky. And then I want justice, beginning with small things.
I was annoyed to make the shape of the cracked sinning just because of good manners. I want to trumpet the idiot who steals your car and then walks previously cruised with the phone in his hand. Tired of bearing the colleague who is sick after the holidays and instead always stays home to mind her own in taking on the things you should do with air as the friendly fake jewelry. Could, at least, share his own paycheck! Route of always having to say that it's okay to "Hello, how are you?". It 's time to talk to my gospel: yes, yes and no, no, will turn into bread at the bread and wine to wine. Hoping not to drink to get drunk with fury to get the bread from the gullet.

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-

And so the famous primary has reached the fame he deserved, that of criminal. Perhaps his story will hit both of her daughter compose a beautiful piece of blues and jazz songs instead of the horrid (which is not jazz). Yes, she has nothing to do, but if it were not for daddy's money, he could not follow lessons of jazz in America. At this time would be wasting his talent by singing in some local group. If you really had to reach a place at the top, could aspire to do the backing vocals in the group "Antonio Modica and Mohac Machine".
I could not read and understand the mischief that this person made famous because I was up sick. I'll never understand how you can get so low by the lure of money.
Maybe it's better to see the thing in a different perspective: the snip is seeing the collapse of his empire and who knows if that hateful expression pompous have it printed on his face still soggy. Doctor, now, heal thyself.

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roads that lead to dreams

I state that my intention is not comparable to the great masters of art, but if Michelangelo the mood created, it did not have to wait for the eighteen, a punch, did the shopping, tidying the house, cook dinner, did a shower and then gave free rein to the imagination! Right now I have a set of ideas that comes to mind, but I can only hope to remember all of you for tonight. In addition, I usually head into the worm that gnaws and when I feel the gnawing of the worm in the head means that something is wrong or at least is taking the wrong turn.
In times of chaos like this, among a thousand requests, annoying customers and petulant, and zero desire to do only the good sense to stop me blow it, I like to imagine myself in a huge art studio full of paints and brushes, canvases and other soiled white. Dream tables full of clay to be molded, precious stones and colored glass to be set to forge. Not having any of this the only action I can do and that comes close to what I like to do is cook a dessert.
Nothing is more delicious that the smell of cakes for the home. Cinnamon, vanilla, cocoa ... apples. And it's just nice to share with those you love what you cooked. The slice of cake on the saucer of china, forks, good service and an aromatic tea after meal. I know, I would have tea, in Italian, but I prefer to use the English term,
And all this must be tasted before the sun obliges you to stay away from home before spring arrives to disrupt the small daily habits. Should be made to enjoy the warmth of home, the flames of fire, rain, and why not, the windows steamed up.
Nothing reconciled me with the world to leave the office, wearing scarf and hat and feel the biting cold, see the clouds of smoke that form when you speak or breathe and walk slowly to the car imagining that this is not the way road that goes from office to car, but one of those paths of the English countryside, bordered by beautiful houses with slate roofs and gardens. And from my beloved bay windows can be glimpsed the hosts who drink brandy before the fireplace and talked among themselves of the new events in the county.

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The trunk in the attic

Ssh! Silence, are being creative. I had a few days of discouragement. There were no original ideas of cloning and I did not want. So, why should I repeat (and also bad) things I see around when I put my? So tonight the need to buy (I say partly because I do not have enough time to buy everything) and I will get to work.
pity that time is a tyrant and I spend the most in this square of bricks, with the desk attached to the window and back to the wall like a gecko. And wasted talking about things that do not interest me for anything less than anything you can say is the advantage. The head, however, I have imagined in my attic. That where I go in the evening when your imagination free and open wide the trunk and then we find old things and new things, those I accingerò to create. Ideas are not always beautiful, but there's nothing more humiliating to want to do and do not know what.
I do not know what is really putting his head. And maybe you better not ask me. I only infected friend who took the ball and as it is more sure of myself I think that will burn the stages.
Patience. I, after all, are those who like to stay behind the scenes. Or in the attic, among cobwebs old rocking chairs, boxes and chests overflowing with old dreams and new dreams.