Cuz life's like a jump rope!

Well, well, well, it has been a while hasn’t it?

And since this is my first and only journal after 3 month (how the….?), I have many things I’d like to record before they get out of my mind, starting with my Esame di Stato (Italian high school’s final exam).

I kinda did a mess (kinda?) but fortunately I’ve passed it. Thinking about it again I wish I had done it better, but thinking about it three times, I think I couldn’t expect much more, at least not in my class. Practically the only session I did quite well, was the Italian composition, although I found it extremely banal. I started panicking for nothing: I’ve never had so many problems doing a composition, so why did I have to be nervous?   Don’t know, really! And don’t even ask, ‘cause I can’t tell myself what I was thinking about that day.

The Maths’s session was awful. Not for the session itself but for what (once again) I did. And what the hell did I do? Everything I could, but the problem is that everything I did was wrong. YAY! Anyway, I was expecting such a result, ‘cause I should have done a miracle to get a 10/15, and, as you may imagine, I’m not Jesus.

The last written session was a surprise for me…unfortunately a bad one. I thought I had done it quite well, and I was expecting a 10/15. I got a point less, surely due to science: I couldn’t understand what the request was, as half of my class, but I wasn’t allowed to ask questions to the teacher. Luckily, English (or was it the English teacher instead?)saved my lucky ass. Again, I thought I had done a perfect test, for what concerns grammar and spelling. Famous last words. At least three spelling errors. DAMN IT!

I think the oral performance was better or, at least, I showed examiners I wasn’t so fucking bad. The art teacher (who didn’t know me at all because he was from another school) even wished me a happy birthday. I stared weirdly at him for a while, with my brain which was trying to connect all I knew about art with my private life. FAIL!

The good point is that I don’t have to show my face again after that bad performance! BYE HIGH SCHOOL! IT HASN’T BEEN A PLEASURE!

After nine and more months of studying, I could finally enjoy my summer holiday! I had already planned to go in Abruzzi, at the seaside, with one of my best friend. Along with us, there were my brother and one of his friend, but they’re not so important in this journal post (I’m too cruel). Once again we had our famous “nice, nearly deflated highlighter yellow air bed” which, unfortunately, departed. “Bye Bye Baby, Baby Good Bye!”. Oh well…but we’ve not missed it too much because we bought Drillo! Drillo is a gator-shaped inflatable, extremely big, so big that it can manage to carry two adult girls (adult because we’re 19 but we look like 16 years old girls. Plus, I don’t think adults might want to spend money on inflatables whose normally target are children aged 4-10).

During my stay at the sea-side I’ve also learned I’m actually good at cooking. My hosts used to appreciate what I served to them, ability which will surely be useful in England! I must admit it though, I lack of originality. The week menu would have been extremely banal if there hadn’t been my friend and her mum. They happened to be extremely useful and good advisors! My friend also learned how to cook potatoes and red rice potatoes (yes, she loves ‘em!). It has been hilarious looking at her while she was checking the potatoes in the pan. She even used to speak to them, saying something like “Oh yes precious! Cook, cook! Who’s a pretty little potato? You are, precious!”.

Unfortunately, along with nice and funny moments, my friend and I have experienced something terrible:  death. It was a cloudy day and we were walking by the shore, when I stopped by a black strange and fluffy thing. We later discovered it was a swallow, which couldn’t fly away for some reason. You may need to know (if you didn’t already knew it), that swallows don’t have the ability to rise if the happen to fall or have their feet on the ground, 'cause their wings are too big, and their legs too short. Apart from this little notion, in our total ignorance, we recognised something was wrong, and it was not a matter of ability’s lack. So we went to the owner of the bath establishment and we asked if he could do something. He gave us the vet police’s (don’t ask me what it is cause I still dunno) number, but they could do nothing because it was not their job.  So we called the forest ranger service, but none answered the call.

After that, the owner of the establishment asked us what kind of bird it was (we weren’t sure about it before), and told us to take it and throw it in air, cause if it had been a swallow, it would have started flying. We were a bit confused, and not so eager to touch it, because it might have been sick or something. One of the lifeguards who was listening to us, tried to do so three times, but the swallow kept falling after it has risen for a metre or so. The animal just couldn’t do it, and we were afraid it was for some injury we couldn’t see.

Then, we immediately rushed home and we looked on the internet to find some help but we couldn’t find any. We just noted the two town’s vet’s numbers, we came back to the seaside and we carried the swallow to the vets, because it was dying. Both the vets we away or busy, but one of them told us to go inside an herbalists’ shop, where a bird specialist was waiting for us. Although we were extremely sceptical, we went there and find this little good man who told us it was too late. He showed us two baby swallows he had found and cured. Well, one of them was nearly and adult and would have been set free the following day.

We were terribly sad 'cause we both thought we could have done something to help Yeats, as we called it.

Two days after, we happened to help a dog. I just couldn’t believe it! He was at a bath establishment as well, lying under a table. As we sat there, he came to use trying to get something to eat. Since I didn’t have any dog food with me (really?) I just gave him a piece of my slice of pizza (just bread, natural tomato sauce and olives’ oil, so nothing that would have caused him problems with his stomach). I spoke with one of the waiters and he told me he was a foundling, but didn’t know why he was here. He told me to bring it home (I would have wished to, believe me!) but I couldn’t. I just though he couldn’t stay there though, because I was afraid he would have been sent to a kennel (how wrong I was!), so I wanted to bring him to a vet due to discover if he had a master. It was midday though, and we had to wait for many hours before getting to the vet, so I somehow lead him (what a good boy! He followed us with nearly no problems!) in a little pine wood and waited there. When the supermarket opened, we bought a leash and a collar, and he said nothing we I tied him! But we noticed he wasn’t used to be walked.

After long hours, we brought him to the vet who exclaimed “Are you still here?”. I confessed I was relieved since I didn’t want to bring it home, if it hadn’t been necessarily. The vet told me that a couple had adopted him and had come to her the day before, but hadn’t wanted a microchip. They left no numbers or address to the vet, and she barely knew where they lived (what a responsible people!). I thought I could bring Oliver (the stray dog) to them, but she told me to leave him near home, because he was 6-7 years old and he had always lived as a stray. I didn’t agree so much but in the end I did it. I let him lead to his home, but when I left him, he followed us back! I don’t think he was considering me an owner, rather, a friend. Yes, he might have thought he had found a pack, since we took care of him in those 6 hours he has been with us.

He then went away and I never saw him again, but I’m sure he’s happy, even if he doesn’t have an owner. He has always lived free, and kind of life fits him.  Plus, the vet told me kennels didn’t want dogs anymore, ‘cause it was too expensive, and the town had no money.

I might have not have gone to Spain as my schoolmates did after the exam, but I’ve had a special summer anyway!

So here I am now! Packing for university ready to move to England in three days. Wait. Did I say ready? Damn, I’m not! I’m nervous and terribly scared! I’m afraid of forgetting something extremely important and I’m seriously starting panicking.

Maybe a psychologist would say this is normal to any international student attending a university abroad but this doesn’t make me feel better at all. The fact is that I’ve always showed to be prepared for this, and totally sure about it. There’re many people who believe in me: parents, family, friends… so I shouldn’t be so worried. Maybe it’s because my family is going to spend lots of money (too many), and I just don’t wanna waste them! I have chosen my course without anyone interfering with my decision, and I really want to spend hours drawing and studying. What’s more, I love England, and I’m ready to consider it a second home, because it’s the right place where I’d like to live.

I guess is all about starting and after a months or two, I’ll be glad of my choice, or, at least, I hope so!

Don't give up hope

It will get hard

Cause life's like a jump rope

Up down when it gets hard remember life's like a jump rope