a sense of belonging, nowhere

I've been reading a lot of terrible things about Italian people fleeing the country recently. Usually written by those who stay. And those who stay get to write on important newspapers, which makes me think, oh, well, easy for you to just talk shit about other people when maybe you're the guy who licked a few arses here and there to be in the position you are, and maybe yes, you might be that guy we never want to be, and that guy who makes our country worse than it already is.

When I say we I mean "those who have left"--and no, I don't mean it in a patriotic yet emptied-out sense. Honestly, I don't see any reason why I would see myself as part of any stupid group of people who do something - what, exactly? I am the out-group and I'm okay with that. I don't like to criticise Italians on their behaviour nor do I utter useless words about the situation because "now I can, cos I see things from the outside"; on the other hand, I don't like to complain about the food or the weather because "hey, in Italy everything is perfect and I miss my mum's lasagna". I don't surround myself with Italians nor do I avoid them when they're around me. And some people are stupid, and when I say this I'm thinking of all those spoiled kids who go to London because they want to live in da city cos they're kool. But mainly, the reason why I feel like an out-group is because I don't see a clear boundary in all this shite people are talking about, cos I don't see why "nationality" should be what everything revolves around.

Call me shallow or call me disrespectful, but honestly I don't care. I don't believe in a country that is "mine", these are names we give to things and borders we create. There are a lot of things I like about Italy, but I don't feel the place I was born in is the place I belong in. I left because I had practical reasons not to stay; also, it is understandable why people want to leave: they feel unsatisfied with their lives, and they know that what they have been working hard for is not going to pay them back in the short run. And everyone should understand that. And I'm not saying that I don't miss Italy, but the problem is that I don't actually miss Italy; I miss the people I love and those I don't, I miss San Lorenzo with its junkies, I miss the good pasta and the good old bidet. These are my things and I don't want anyone to generalise everything out of this in the name of a "nation".

Probably other expats will not feel the same way, but I don't like it when someone identifies me with a "stereotyped" group. If someone wants to leave, they have their right to do so. And very often those people are not sick and angry at their "country", they're not doing it to show off; very often they just want to get what they deserve. What you deserve is not always at hand, so you run after it. I feel more satisfied when I can do something and that makes me happy. If one day what I want to do is in Italy, I'll go back; if what I want to do is in Greenland, I'll go to Greenland. 

In the meantime, you haters and know-it-all's go get a life instead of lecturing people on how to behave and how to be "good Italians".

Bad Luck Marla

Uh, hi.

Haven't been here in a long time (you don't say), so here's a summary of what Edinburgh has turned me into.

 

You know that meme thing, Bad Luck Brian? That's me as a PG student. Eh.

 

 

The first day I visited the university, one of those awkward "get-in-the-room-meet-random-people-cos-fuck-you-that's-why" events happened. They give you a cup of coffee and put a sticker on you so that you can recognise the other wild animals in your programme and yes, of course, talk to them. One of the first memories I have from that day is me getting there late, finding the one free seat, leaving my bag there just for a second so I could grab a cup of tea; when I turned around, this guys was sitting on my bag. Oh well.

This is what Edinburgh has been doing to me. And if you think this is a happy post, er--

 

 Actually, it all started from this: all the signs were there. Infinite tragedy.

 

Then classes started. As did my lifelong relationship with the library. And with brain dysfunctions.  

Jesus looks at me every time I walk past it. And yes, that pink thread threatens my mental stability four times a day.

 

  This is a clear and concise description of what's been going on in my head. And an epiphany. 

 

I met the worst people on earth. Both those in the picture and the ones behind the camera. 

 

Can't say nicer things about my flatmates. This was a trap: "Hey Claudia, can you come here a second? I've got something to ask you"....

 

Did I mention brain dysfunctions?  

 

But this wasn't even my final form (Suicide Bunnies are for tragedy scale comparison).

 

 That's it.

Also:

Just chillin' in the ambulance, bitches.

Pre-surgery selfie. In great shape!

 

  The hospital experience changed my life forever. The last day I spent there they shoved me in a room with three ninety-year-old ladies. Including one whose only goal in life was to get on her feet and aimlessly walk to the bathroom and pee with the door open. Needless to say, the bathroom was just across for me. And she wore a gown, one of those that are open in the back. 

First day of Physiotherapy? Of course, the ward was just across from this...

 

Then I went to Glasgow to see Patrick Wolf, and of course it was raining (a rare phenomenon here in Scotland). Pret a Manger was all I saw before the gig.

 

This is dedicated to all the people who have asked me "Are you having fun in Edinburgh?" 

 

Me: "Oh, it's raining, let's take the big umbrella so it won't break".
Scotland: "NOPE. Because fuck you, that's why."

 

I spent the entire Christmas break at the university, watching the sun rise every morning, living with the Californian time zone and making friends with the security guys. Not the stinky guys though. Oh, I also wrote four papers. This is me showing off my mane to the camera.  

 

And of course, I haven't had the time to get back to a normal life and my Christmas break officially lasted five days. A new semester is starting. And if you think this is a happy ending, I'd like you to know that