I'm at home recovering from a knee surgery, which I hope will allow me to rapidly return to do one of the things I care most about now for several years running. I do not intend to talk about my passion for travel by foot, maybe I'll do it another time. I do not have a clear idea of \u200b\u200bwhat I speak and write. I started writing for a try, then it may be that one is not out of nothing, with a "Delete" Delete all. Yesterday, driven by a certain emotion creatami intervention of Silvio Berlusconi at the Festival of Freedom, which I followed on live TV, I was convinced to write and comment on that action. Last night I tried to put my thoughts down on paper, but after a few lines "Delete"! and I turned off the pc. This morning I dedicated to e-mail from the office and then ... and then I had no desire to write anything. Outside a beautiful day. Within me a mixture of boredom, concern (I can get back to racing?) And my usual sad background. Mr. Berlusconi did not speak, I decided. The left, Santoro, Fini, felt even. So what I write? Ready with the "Delete"? But I crossed the ten lines, would be a shame to have wasted time and words. Unnecessary words. Free words. It would be nice to be able to write at least some of those thoughts, images, memories, intentions, ideas, phrases that blending into the mind of a person in a minute, an hour a day. A day like this where, as in my case, the mind is less busy than usual with the everyday issues of work. It would be nice. But it would also be bad for me. Why certainly pass on too many sad words on paper. Too many thoughts of death. I stopped a few minutes to a call from my father. I start to write and the temptation to highlight what has been written and press the button "Delete" is very strong. Wait, do not! And then resume. Ah, yes. Sad thoughts, death. Unnecessary words. Very unnecessary. Useless thoughts. Minutes unnecessary. Spent to writing thoughts unclear. Empty thoughts.
Useless. If I pause a moment on the meaning of the word "useless", I would say a jet that is used to define something that is useless. For anything. There are, say, alternative meaning. Its opposite, useful, but requires the definition of something useful, which is useful for something else. That "something else" may be a lot of things. Some people, themselves, a job, a result of an action generlamente good. Profit is a word open others, with a multiplicity of meanings and implications. Needless closed. E 'end in itself. And 'nothing. E 'death.
further interruption. I re-read my rant. What adjective comes to mind? Obviously it is useless (!) And write it. Ok, let's move on. We try to write again. What? You're welcome. Of anything. Useless things. But if they are useful? One day about a year ago, I decided to go talk to a psychotherapist. I was convinced (well-advised, ill-advised?) I had groped their way to investigate my mind of a person who does the job. An interview. Fine words, promises. I thought about it. I called and I told him I did not feel ready. Thanks, until next time, if ever I thought. He was not depressed and is not my 'evil of living. " This is the conclusion that I reached. I am still stuck at that point. I know in my own resources to win the fight with myself there. I do not think that someone else, for that is good, can help me that much. Yes, maybe I do find that there is a little problem that I carry around from childhood, relationship with parents, etc.. Usual. And once I had found out what has changed? Another pause, and the temptation of the new "Delete". Still resist. Where was I? Dunno, if I read I am consumed. I do not read, he says. I am surrounded by love.
and I admit I'm happy. But I do not want talk about my feelings, my family and friends. When I happen to make it a bit 'obvious, a bit' rhetoric and very self-critical. The series that I do not deserve anything, let me lose etc. An old friend who has found me on my blog after thirty years, I wanted to talk, I wanted to dedicate a post. A amarcord of yore, in high school. But maybe I will on another occasion. So far, the only answer, because he asked me, that I have no intention to enter Facebook. I got your e-mail, his mobile phone. Maybe I'll live. Not now.
friends. Someone told me I always tend to avoid them. This is partly true. Today I am unable have real friends. I had one, I found and I've also written. But we live far away. And while the distance increases the affects on the other crystallizes them, preventing a relationship to evolve, consolidate, strengthen, or why not finish. Even this does not spur me to return to friends and associates of thirty years ago. Time does not suffice. The attempt would be futile. Useless. Even this bad word. (September 28, 2009)
Twenty-four hours after I take my weird writing this post. Spoken of. Closed, no indeed. I wanted to talk to animals. Of dogs. There are pictures and memories of dogs almost daily frequantano my mind. They are the dogs of my childhood and Part of my adolescence. My father was a hunter, had several dogs. Since I was small I always had a special carriage for dogs. Growing up I became a family man who looked after them most. There were two dogs in particular with which I entered into a symbiosis. A bloodhound and a German setter: Dik and Simba. Simply, I do not want to talk anymore. Who knows, maybe another time. It was just to say that animals, and in my case even the dogs but also cats (we had one in high school I was always around, and crouched down on the desk, "study" with me), leave a trace indelibly in our lives and are able to give and receive affection, like human beings. Well, now we lack only who utters the usual cliché that animals are better than men because, as so on. and so I have proven to be so simple that most can not. And while I am assailed by a new, very strong temptation to "Delete", I try to think what else could I write to close a piece that is already too long, I wrote in two days and has all the characteristics to be considered ... useless! Helmet always there. There. Futility. And as I'm pleased with it, a little 'me play because I write Placing an unnecessarily and we turn around we speak. I pause there and then I stop. We return. I throw it. It re-emerges. It riparlo.
Now just because strap. "Delete"? And what changes! You wrote all, do not delete anything, even this public disgrace. Okay, you're a little 'outburst. But in the end what you meant? I do not know. Attila
Useless. If I pause a moment on the meaning of the word "useless", I would say a jet that is used to define something that is useless. For anything. There are, say, alternative meaning. Its opposite, useful, but requires the definition of something useful, which is useful for something else. That "something else" may be a lot of things. Some people, themselves, a job, a result of an action generlamente good. Profit is a word open others, with a multiplicity of meanings and implications. Needless closed. E 'end in itself. And 'nothing. E 'death.
further interruption. I re-read my rant. What adjective comes to mind? Obviously it is useless (!) And write it. Ok, let's move on. We try to write again. What? You're welcome. Of anything. Useless things. But if they are useful? One day about a year ago, I decided to go talk to a psychotherapist. I was convinced (well-advised, ill-advised?) I had groped their way to investigate my mind of a person who does the job. An interview. Fine words, promises. I thought about it. I called and I told him I did not feel ready. Thanks, until next time, if ever I thought. He was not depressed and is not my 'evil of living. " This is the conclusion that I reached. I am still stuck at that point. I know in my own resources to win the fight with myself there. I do not think that someone else, for that is good, can help me that much. Yes, maybe I do find that there is a little problem that I carry around from childhood, relationship with parents, etc.. Usual. And once I had found out what has changed? Another pause, and the temptation of the new "Delete". Still resist. Where was I? Dunno, if I read I am consumed. I do not read, he says. I am surrounded by love.
and I admit I'm happy. But I do not want talk about my feelings, my family and friends. When I happen to make it a bit 'obvious, a bit' rhetoric and very self-critical. The series that I do not deserve anything, let me lose etc. An old friend who has found me on my blog after thirty years, I wanted to talk, I wanted to dedicate a post. A amarcord of yore, in high school. But maybe I will on another occasion. So far, the only answer, because he asked me, that I have no intention to enter Facebook. I got your e-mail, his mobile phone. Maybe I'll live. Not now.
friends. Someone told me I always tend to avoid them. This is partly true. Today I am unable have real friends. I had one, I found and I've also written. But we live far away. And while the distance increases the affects on the other crystallizes them, preventing a relationship to evolve, consolidate, strengthen, or why not finish. Even this does not spur me to return to friends and associates of thirty years ago. Time does not suffice. The attempt would be futile. Useless. Even this bad word. (September 28, 2009)
Twenty-four hours after I take my weird writing this post. Spoken of. Closed, no indeed. I wanted to talk to animals. Of dogs. There are pictures and memories of dogs almost daily frequantano my mind. They are the dogs of my childhood and Part of my adolescence. My father was a hunter, had several dogs. Since I was small I always had a special carriage for dogs. Growing up I became a family man who looked after them most. There were two dogs in particular with which I entered into a symbiosis. A bloodhound and a German setter: Dik and Simba. Simply, I do not want to talk anymore. Who knows, maybe another time. It was just to say that animals, and in my case even the dogs but also cats (we had one in high school I was always around, and crouched down on the desk, "study" with me), leave a trace indelibly in our lives and are able to give and receive affection, like human beings. Well, now we lack only who utters the usual cliché that animals are better than men because, as so on. and so I have proven to be so simple that most can not. And while I am assailed by a new, very strong temptation to "Delete", I try to think what else could I write to close a piece that is already too long, I wrote in two days and has all the characteristics to be considered ... useless! Helmet always there. There. Futility. And as I'm pleased with it, a little 'me play because I write Placing an unnecessarily and we turn around we speak. I pause there and then I stop. We return. I throw it. It re-emerges. It riparlo.
Now just because strap. "Delete"? And what changes! You wrote all, do not delete anything, even this public disgrace. Okay, you're a little 'outburst. But in the end what you meant? I do not know. Attila
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