omphaloscopy dept

Waiting for Godot (and making small talk with Ubu Roi in the meanwhile)

paola — Wed, 27 Jul 2005 09:39:21 GMT

That sums up pretty well the status of my job research. It seems that looking for a job in NYC for a smart, brilliant and cultivated gal speaking three languages and with a wide range of interesting skills is a sort of Graal's quest. Maybe even a bit more delusive. Everything is blurred, a "yes, there's a chance, but...", a Mr. A who'll introduce me to "Mr. X, who knows Mr. Y who could connect you to Mr. Z" and then Mr. Z gives you Mr. A's phone number, a "you must be patient" (I and patience get along like Syria and Israel), a "you know, it's a difficult place". NYC. Were I looking for a marketing/communication/writing position in Armpitoftheworld, Siberia, maybe I'd be luckier, it seems. And everything because out of a misplaced sense of self-awareness, I had excluded the possibility of a) marrying an Italian-American willing to connect to his roots in a remote village in Basilicata (probably the village is deserted by now. Deal with it.) b) washing dishes at a Chinese joint till the day Martin Scorsese notices me for my brilliant interpretation of "You lookin' at me?" and c) asking for political asylum because my country is infested by commies (a guy named Silvio Berlusconi has been using this line for ten years, but he's still here!) If patience doesn't seem to be effective in a couple of months I'll have to resort to one of the aforementioned ways. Maybe I'd better start studying Basilicata geography anyhow.

A Ci'... e fidete, no?

paola — Wed, 20 Jul 2005 11:34:17 GMT

Riforma della Giustizia. Tocca sbrigasse ah Si', che l'anno prossimo ce stanno l'elezzioni. Famo che se fidamo, eh? http://www.cittadinolex.kataweb.it/article_view.jsp?idArt=29415&idCat=120 E, come diressero a Oxford: mavattelaappijanderculo.

Technology Can Improve Our Lives (Or At Least Our Paranoia)

paola — Tue, 19 Jul 2005 11:50:50 GMT

Hi. This is the qmail-send program at softhome.net. I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses. This is a permanent error; I've given up. Sorry it didn't work out. <xxxxxx@earthlink.net>: CNAME lookup failed temporarily. (#4.4.3) I'm not going to try again; this message has been in the queue too long. [?] The optimistic lesson: *always* wait 50 hours and the above message before getting mad at someone who's not replying to your email (in the meanwhile avoid: committing suicide, fleeing with their best friend, going to the hairdresser for a radical change of look). Reality check: after the aforementioned 50 hours you can start coping with the fact that you'd look shitty with a helmet a' la Louise Brooks (I'd look cute, but that's another entry).

Always Going Against The Flow

paola — Thu, 14 Jul 2005 11:37:23 GMT

Just when the world discovers the benefits of cobblestones (reduced blood pressure, balance control, hair strenght and maybe even better odds of winning the lottery) http://www.salon.com/wire/ap/archive.html?wire=D8B9D7DG0.html Roman city hall decides it's time to get rid of our famous "sampietrini" http://www.repubblica.it/2005/g/sezioni/cronaca/sampie/sampie/sampie.html (only in Italian) And nobody dare tell that Italians are always prone to US trends.

You Are My Destiny

paola — Wed, 13 Jul 2005 17:47:00 GMT

This morning I was lining up at my usual bar (italian version) for my usual cornetto and cappuccino, when I realized that the guy preceding me was Rocco Siffredi -- ok, just in case you want to pretend you NEVER heard of him: http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&client=ig&q=%22rocco+siffredi%22 If fate is trying to tell me something, I guess I have to be cautious analyzing its messages. Because just before entering the bar I was brooding about my recent sentimental setbacks, and wondering what I am really looking for in a man. And I may not want to be tempted to take this sign a bit too literally.

Thank you Tribe

paola — Wed, 29 Jun 2005 16:15:51 GMT

... for sparing me the "wonderful 25" banner on each page. Because I still want to value my brain enough to understand that someone who signed up on 6/25 and then was advertised on Tribe just 3 days later as "the best pick" sounded a bit... artificial? (nice jobs they have, by the way -- isn't there a spare multimillionnaire too?)

US... errr, Iran elections gave no choice

paola — Wed, 29 Jun 2005 15:30:44 GMT

http://www.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/meast/06/25/iran.reax.ap/index.html "In Washington, State Department spokeswoman Joanne Moore indicated the result would not change the U.S. view of Iran, and what it considered to be a fundamentally flawed election that refused to accept scores of candidates, particularly women." Hey, Joanne, when was it the last time US elections had a woman candidate? Should we worry about an alien democratic nation invading the US to reestablish an unflawed democracy?

Caro 75 e passa %, ti scrivo

paola — Thu, 16 Jun 2005 17:52:30 GMT

Caro 75 e passa %, parlo con te. Si', con te che ti sei dibattuto tanto nei tuoi problemi etici (embrione o madre? ricerca o vita? Ostia o Torvajanica? panino con la cotoletta o con la frittata?), e che alla fine hai deciso per la frittata (che si mantiene piu' morbida, ce lo so). Beh, insomma, caro il mio 75 e passa %, che devo dirti... io posso quasi capire le tue perplessita' rispetto alla questione della fecondazione eterologa. E magari se mi sforzo posso anche intuire il perche' non vuoi avere la responsabilita' di decidere in merito all'utilizzo di embrioni nella ricerca scientifica. E se proprio decido di perdere una giornata nel tentare di mettermi nei tuoi panni, inginocchiata su un panchetto cosparso di cocci di vetro e chiodi arrugginiti, potrei addirittura provare l'ebbrezza del satori e intravedere - circonfuse di aurea luce - le ragioni per cui vuoi provare l'ebbrezza di non sapere se l'embrione e' portatore di qualche malattia genetica (c'e' gente che gli ci piace soffrire, eh, saro' strana io). Pero', caro il mio 75 e passa %, quando tu mi dici (o - optando per la frittata, silenziosamente stabilisci) che e' preferibile sacrificare la MIA salute a quella dell'embrione - posto che siamo in regime di fecondazione omologa, e quindi si suppone che tu sia mio marito/amante/fidanzato/compagno/concubino... beh, non stupirti se poi decido di non dartela piu' per il resto dei miei giorni. Sai com'e', scoprire di valere meno di un ex ovocita, uno che mensilmente espello dalle mie viscere e ti fa anche un po' schifo parlarne, beh, ammetterai che puo' urtare un tantino il mio ego. Quindi, caro il mio 75 e passa %, senza acrimonia alcuna, ma sai che c'e'? Buone pippe. In solitaria.