As promised, I'm writing a post to give you an official update on my life as it is now. I feel like I've settled into a new temporary routine. I'm acting as a substitue for my friend Anya who is traveling in the States, so I spend my mornings at a preschool playing with Italian babies for a few hours. It's interesting how much I've learned there. I'm definitely getting some practice of the imperative tense and have been learning some really fun songs like the one about the round, round watermelon that wanted to be the best in the world and the Italian version of "Ring Around the Rosie."
I've also started hanging out with two lovely ragazze. Violeta is 10 and she's a power house. She knows what she likes and is, as we say in the South, smart as a whip. Gaia, age 7, is a sweet girl. After our first meeting I was a bit nervous about what she'd think of me, but held on to me tightly wherever we went on Friday. She also learned the word "puppy" on Friday. Success. They fall into their birth order dynamics pretty nicely which reminds me quite a bit of Jason and myself. Too fun!
But I have made some revelations lately that I'd like to share with you:
The first is that I'm alone. Now, I could use the euphimism and tell you that I'm living on my own, but I don't think that phrase is sufficient to describe how I feel. Sure I have friends here. Whether I be sick or sad, they have shown over these past weeks more patience and kindness than I could express in words. I feel like I've won the lottery when it comes to them. Still it's difficult to live so far from majority of my network. At times I feel very solitary and, let me tell you, that's a pretty scary thing.
The positive side here is that I feel like I'm learning more and better in this way. I'm finding my own limits, strengths, and weaknesses. Surely this information will be crucial knowledge no matter where or with whom I live. I'm also discovering my own opinions. I've never really been one to hide my opinions when I've had them, but believe it or not, sometimes I just can't make up my mind. I used to say that in these moments I could develop my thoughts after hearing what others had to say first. But as I begin to grasp my own priorities and the process for making decisions, I almost find it refreshing to be alone.
Strangely enough, the second realization I've made is how WONDERFUL the people I have in my life are. No matter where in the world I am, you show me all kinds of support in any manner of ways. I have heard from you when I needed it most and have felt your presence throughout the joyful and trying times. Sure, communication is different these days. It's not so easy to pick up a phone and call someone when you don't even live in the same country code. And if I usually talked to someone twice a week because I would run into them while walking across campus, I realize I wouldn't be doing that now regardless. Despite these differences, I know you're there. And thank goodness for technology! You can say what you like about the evil of technology but Skype is a god-sent. Hallelujah and amen. A very special thank you to Aunt Carol and Uncle Joe: you guys are awesome! And an honest message about what I think of YOU straight from the words of a legend just to say thanks.
In these days I have some important decisions to make which brings us to my final revelation. I've spent countless hours (recently and just generally in my 22 years) fretting over decisions of all kinds. Each one feels like it's the end of the world, despite my recognition that my life will go on no matter what I choose. I've decided to put an end to the fretting--or as much as someone who has nurtured worrying can. I'm never going to know what's "right." I might know 10 years from now that I made a good decision, but then again I might never know. What I do know is that I will make the best decisions for me when I need to in that very moment. Fretting is wasting all kinds of energy and time that I no longer choose to waste. In the words of my wise and beautiful mother, "it's just not worth it." So enough is enough. And that's plenty enough.
Showing posts with label soap box. Show all posts
Showing posts with label soap box. Show all posts
18 September 2010
11 August 2010
Call me by my name.
I generally love my class. I think I've made that pretty clear. But today something happened that just bugged me. Today we were working on this exercise matching the beginning and ends of Italian idioms together when my professor stopped to make a point about the language used in some of them. She explained to us that some words were not politically correct and were not used often. One of her examples was, of course, being Deaf. She explained that instead of saying someone is "sordo," you say "non udente," or "not hearing."
Now, it's not often I get up the courage to say much in class, but I just couldn't let this slide. I mustered up the courage, rose my hand, and putting as much confidence into my voice as possible, said in Italian, "I think that Deaf prefer that term to non hearing since it's not just a disability, it's a culture." She looked at me, acknowledging what I said, and responded that although she didn't know what people want to be called, it's not gentile to write or say that.
As a psychology student I learned that people who sign and are proud of being Deaf don't like the term hard of hearing. Not being entirely sure of if that was universal or just an American preference, I talked to my friend and former professor Rita who is a major player in the Italian Deaf community and found out that I was spot on. But she also said that while there are signing classes at the University for Foreigners, my professor was probably not a part of the community and didn't know that she was wrong.
I think that's pretty fair, but it brings up a topic that is wildly interesting to me: identity. In fact, that's the reason why I'm back in Italy. I'm working on a Fulbright application (fingers crossed) in order to work on interactions that migrants have with Italians and their identity. But getting back to my point, I often wonder who decides the identity of a person or people and the process of how it's formed. I know, thanks to Rita and our Sociology class, that it's a community interaction. People refer to each other on their similarities, but more frequently on their differences. But who gets to decide what he or she is called?
Not everyone wishes to be called Deaf if they don't associate with the community. Same with other abilities, ethnicities, occupations, etc. My Italian professor herself said that you no longer call one who collects garbage a "garbage man," but the correct term is "ecological operator." Just thinking about how an individual is named is an interesting thought experience. In most Western cultures, parents give children a name. At some point that usually becomes a soprannome, or nickname, and people have the power to ask individuals to call them something specifically.
Now I've got A LOT of nicknames, but have made more of a conscious decision to introduce myself as Samantha in professional circles, while I don't care very much what friends call me. My family has their own set of nicknames for me (some of which cannot be repeated...just kidding!). And the living-in-Italy thing I've been doing the last couple of years put me into existential crisis over how I would pronounce my last name. But beyond my own nominal issues (pun intended), I think it's important that we recognize that others have preferences when they express them. Most people love their names. Don't individuals have an implicit freedom to request how they're recalled or categorized?
Now, Rita may be right. My professor may not know about the Deaf community and her fault ends at her ignorance. But tell me then, where does ignorance end? I have opinions, but I'll save those for another time. :)
Now, it's not often I get up the courage to say much in class, but I just couldn't let this slide. I mustered up the courage, rose my hand, and putting as much confidence into my voice as possible, said in Italian, "I think that Deaf prefer that term to non hearing since it's not just a disability, it's a culture." She looked at me, acknowledging what I said, and responded that although she didn't know what people want to be called, it's not gentile to write or say that.
As a psychology student I learned that people who sign and are proud of being Deaf don't like the term hard of hearing. Not being entirely sure of if that was universal or just an American preference, I talked to my friend and former professor Rita who is a major player in the Italian Deaf community and found out that I was spot on. But she also said that while there are signing classes at the University for Foreigners, my professor was probably not a part of the community and didn't know that she was wrong.
I think that's pretty fair, but it brings up a topic that is wildly interesting to me: identity. In fact, that's the reason why I'm back in Italy. I'm working on a Fulbright application (fingers crossed) in order to work on interactions that migrants have with Italians and their identity. But getting back to my point, I often wonder who decides the identity of a person or people and the process of how it's formed. I know, thanks to Rita and our Sociology class, that it's a community interaction. People refer to each other on their similarities, but more frequently on their differences. But who gets to decide what he or she is called?
Not everyone wishes to be called Deaf if they don't associate with the community. Same with other abilities, ethnicities, occupations, etc. My Italian professor herself said that you no longer call one who collects garbage a "garbage man," but the correct term is "ecological operator." Just thinking about how an individual is named is an interesting thought experience. In most Western cultures, parents give children a name. At some point that usually becomes a soprannome, or nickname, and people have the power to ask individuals to call them something specifically.
Now I've got A LOT of nicknames, but have made more of a conscious decision to introduce myself as Samantha in professional circles, while I don't care very much what friends call me. My family has their own set of nicknames for me (some of which cannot be repeated...just kidding!). And the living-in-Italy thing I've been doing the last couple of years put me into existential crisis over how I would pronounce my last name. But beyond my own nominal issues (pun intended), I think it's important that we recognize that others have preferences when they express them. Most people love their names. Don't individuals have an implicit freedom to request how they're recalled or categorized?
Now, Rita may be right. My professor may not know about the Deaf community and her fault ends at her ignorance. But tell me then, where does ignorance end? I have opinions, but I'll save those for another time. :)
10 August 2010
Hello and Goodbye
These past few days have been full of hellos and goodbyes. I said, "Sayanara" to Filippo and Anya, who each went on vacations to in opposite directions, a bit over a week ago and those departures started the cycle. The first hello is to one of my new favorite spaces in the city to which Lucia and Elizabeth introduced me. And the make a great coffee creme, right ladies? Here are a few shots from il balcone nel Piazza del Campo.
Another hello goes to American dinner in Italy and new friends. Elizabeth and I hosted a great feast for some of her Italian friends, but since we didn't want to risk a culinary embarrassment, these guys suggested we try something "American." And, let me ask you, fine reader, do you know anything more American than chili cheese dogs and fries? Guys, if you're reading this and would like to give some honest feedback it's welcomed, but I'm guessing that the 2 rounds of hot dogs and empty pot of homemade chili says we did pretty well. How do they look to you?
Goodbye to some fine shoes that I've loved very much. These sandals were all I wore the first time I came to Siena two years ago and I've been on some fun adventures in my trusty Chuck Taylors. You will be missed terribly. But a warm welcome to my snazzy new All-Stars. A bit more stream-lined, but they're wearing in nicely. The extra support is great for all the walking I've been doing lately. Also, you'll notice they look very similar. World traveler tip: pack as light as possible with things that you love and work well with everything. :)
Because I refuse to say goodbye to this gem, a cheery "See ya' later" to my lovely Elizabeth. Siena's not the same without your "effervescent" self, but she'll see you in May. In bocca al lupo in Minnesota! You're gonna kick some butt in grad school and return a smarter and wiser.
Buon tornata to Scottie! I met her for about 20 minutes a year ago and she was kind enough to sit through an interview for my Italian presentation for Celebrating Student Achievement, but we've been getting to know each other. She lives in the apartment, too, and just came back from an awesome trip to Korea. She's on her way to catch up with Filippo so I have just a few more days of the place to myself.
With pleasure, I watch cooking-dependency's departure. There's a joke in my family that starts something like, "Did you hear about the time Sam tried to make a salad?" (Don't even ask.) Aside from monetary dependency--which I have to the controlled to the smallest extent I can as an unemployed student, I am most clueless when it comes to the kitchen. I get overwhelmed with anxiety just thinking about walking into a kitchen for anything other than eating, but since I'm determined to learn...you've gotta read about it. I'd say sorry, but I'm celebrating! I'm trying to remember, but thinking back, the pictures below may be records of the first meal I bought and prepared myself with absolutely no supervision. It tasted pretty good and doesn't look too bad either, right?
Goodbyes and hellos are funny things. Either can be much anticipated, exciting, difficult, stressful, overwhelming, and so on...but I've realized we can always decide what to do with those feelings in how we act. An intriguing part of these past days has been being the constant. Not often do I find myself resting while everything else around me seems to be moving at super sonic speeds. Honestly, it might be more exhausting.
Today I found myself feeling homesick for important people in my life, which rarely ever happens when I'm in Siena and completely occupied with the glories of living here. After passing the morning and part of the afternoon of moping, I was lucky enough to have a talk with Scottie who made me realize some things. The most important being that I have the power to choose how to respond to the changes that are happening around me. Now, this isn't a new revelation, but it sincerely needed to be reconfirmed. So, readers, I promise to (re)commit myself to experiencing my emotions, but actively deciding to respond in the most positive way I can. And I'm sure that has some benefits for you, too.
 |
| Try telling me this isn't the most beautiful cities in the world. I won't believe you. |
 |
| It's really me. Making chili. Thanks for the recipe, Filippo! :) |
 |
| It was their first chili cheese dog. Excuse them for putting the cheese on first. |
 |
| They wanted to submit it, but this meal's got nothing on one of these! |
Goodbye to some fine shoes that I've loved very much. These sandals were all I wore the first time I came to Siena two years ago and I've been on some fun adventures in my trusty Chuck Taylors. You will be missed terribly. But a warm welcome to my snazzy new All-Stars. A bit more stream-lined, but they're wearing in nicely. The extra support is great for all the walking I've been doing lately. Also, you'll notice they look very similar. World traveler tip: pack as light as possible with things that you love and work well with everything. :)
Because I refuse to say goodbye to this gem, a cheery "See ya' later" to my lovely Elizabeth. Siena's not the same without your "effervescent" self, but she'll see you in May. In bocca al lupo in Minnesota! You're gonna kick some butt in grad school and return a smarter and wiser.
Buon tornata to Scottie! I met her for about 20 minutes a year ago and she was kind enough to sit through an interview for my Italian presentation for Celebrating Student Achievement, but we've been getting to know each other. She lives in the apartment, too, and just came back from an awesome trip to Korea. She's on her way to catch up with Filippo so I have just a few more days of the place to myself.
With pleasure, I watch cooking-dependency's departure. There's a joke in my family that starts something like, "Did you hear about the time Sam tried to make a salad?" (Don't even ask.) Aside from monetary dependency--which I have to the controlled to the smallest extent I can as an unemployed student, I am most clueless when it comes to the kitchen. I get overwhelmed with anxiety just thinking about walking into a kitchen for anything other than eating, but since I'm determined to learn...you've gotta read about it. I'd say sorry, but I'm celebrating! I'm trying to remember, but thinking back, the pictures below may be records of the first meal I bought and prepared myself with absolutely no supervision. It tasted pretty good and doesn't look too bad either, right?
Goodbyes and hellos are funny things. Either can be much anticipated, exciting, difficult, stressful, overwhelming, and so on...but I've realized we can always decide what to do with those feelings in how we act. An intriguing part of these past days has been being the constant. Not often do I find myself resting while everything else around me seems to be moving at super sonic speeds. Honestly, it might be more exhausting.
Today I found myself feeling homesick for important people in my life, which rarely ever happens when I'm in Siena and completely occupied with the glories of living here. After passing the morning and part of the afternoon of moping, I was lucky enough to have a talk with Scottie who made me realize some things. The most important being that I have the power to choose how to respond to the changes that are happening around me. Now, this isn't a new revelation, but it sincerely needed to be reconfirmed. So, readers, I promise to (re)commit myself to experiencing my emotions, but actively deciding to respond in the most positive way I can. And I'm sure that has some benefits for you, too.
29 March 2010
How rude!
At lunch today, a few friends--mostly seniors--and I were discussing how awful when small chat comes to the most dreaded question: "What are you doing after graduation?" I hate that question right now because, quite honestly, who knows? Really, please raise your hand if you've got it all figured out. If you raised your hand and it's two, five, or seven years more school, do you have a guarantee about what's after that? Yeah, that's what I thought. Put it down.
My friend Meredith was talking about how unbearable it is when the people who just graduated ask this abominable question and I concur wholeheartedly. That might be the most painful of all. Underclassmen have no idea what it's like so they're excused, but if you've recently lived through the anxiety of making plans and know what I call the senior scramble, don't ask me what I'm doing because you have nothing else to say or you're trying to be polite. I don't mind if you preface it with some apology about how rough things are now, and then ask if I have any leads. That's tactful and kind. But pah-leeze! It's hard enough being hounded by real adults and the evil voice in my head that I can't escape. I don't need your reminder of my deepest insecurities, thank you.
I was having this discussion with one of my Italian friends named Filippo last week. I was updating him about some new developments in my short-term life plan (which takes me out to about 2017) but told him that of course everything is subject to change. Filippo showered me with admiration, but I assured him that it wasn't anything to cheer about. These are all just ideas that aren't realized yet and that because I'm force to think about my plans, I feel like have to come up with something to say. On that day alone I had already been asked three times what I was doing with my life. And that's not even a bad day as the count can get up to nine or ten in just 24 hours! He explained to me about how that's a big cultural difference. Since it's not unusual there for young people to not have plans, he enlightened me, people don't even ask. I knew I need to be in Italy!
But it made me think: if no one really has defined plans, why are we always asking about it here? People seem to understand that in this economic climate and with the changing expectations of ages (mainly when most people marry and start a family) that people should have some time to figure things out. My thesis is all about emerging adults developing their identity (shameless plug: Come see my presentation on Celebrating Student Achievement Day!) and how that takes time. Gone are the days of working at one place and leaving decades later with a comfortable pension! It's a rough job market out there. We don't want to be stuck in anything we absolutely hate. Granted none of us are going to find our dream jobs right out of college, but give us a chance to figure out who we are first. Let's have some adventures and turn those experiences into a productive life.
My friend Meredith was talking about how unbearable it is when the people who just graduated ask this abominable question and I concur wholeheartedly. That might be the most painful of all. Underclassmen have no idea what it's like so they're excused, but if you've recently lived through the anxiety of making plans and know what I call the senior scramble, don't ask me what I'm doing because you have nothing else to say or you're trying to be polite. I don't mind if you preface it with some apology about how rough things are now, and then ask if I have any leads. That's tactful and kind. But pah-leeze! It's hard enough being hounded by real adults and the evil voice in my head that I can't escape. I don't need your reminder of my deepest insecurities, thank you.
I was having this discussion with one of my Italian friends named Filippo last week. I was updating him about some new developments in my short-term life plan (which takes me out to about 2017) but told him that of course everything is subject to change. Filippo showered me with admiration, but I assured him that it wasn't anything to cheer about. These are all just ideas that aren't realized yet and that because I'm force to think about my plans, I feel like have to come up with something to say. On that day alone I had already been asked three times what I was doing with my life. And that's not even a bad day as the count can get up to nine or ten in just 24 hours! He explained to me about how that's a big cultural difference. Since it's not unusual there for young people to not have plans, he enlightened me, people don't even ask. I knew I need to be in Italy!
But it made me think: if no one really has defined plans, why are we always asking about it here? People seem to understand that in this economic climate and with the changing expectations of ages (mainly when most people marry and start a family) that people should have some time to figure things out. My thesis is all about emerging adults developing their identity (shameless plug: Come see my presentation on Celebrating Student Achievement Day!) and how that takes time. Gone are the days of working at one place and leaving decades later with a comfortable pension! It's a rough job market out there. We don't want to be stuck in anything we absolutely hate. Granted none of us are going to find our dream jobs right out of college, but give us a chance to figure out who we are first. Let's have some adventures and turn those experiences into a productive life.
23 March 2010
So I'm told
So I'm told that there are 24 working days remaining in the current school year at Meredith College. That's five and a half weeks plus finals. It's hard to believe that it's coming to a close, but I'm pretty ready. I feel like I've done everything that I came here to do in four years and am plenty ready for the next adventure. Still, I can empathize on some level with the various reactions on the spectrum of graduation.
Let's face it; graduating from undergraduate is no small feat! Many people don't have the opportunity or privilege to get to this point in their formal education. But it's important to keep it all in perspective. One of my classes this semester (which seems like a hodge podge class based on the things that we seem "to cover") discussed about how popular culture seemed to make high school appear like it was the end of life as you knew it.
Prom was supposed to be the culmination of all your worth and if you were a loser your senior year, you were nothing. Some people even returned to high school to make things "right." (And that's just a sampling of some of the classics, if you will.) My friend Jen pointed out that more recently (read: mostly post-1990s except for a real classic), college, which is slightly more accessible, has filled that role. Anyway, the point really is that I don't want my life to end now as much as I didn't want it to end when high school is over.
If anything, I think formal milestones like these should be an opportunity to renew your dedication to making your life whatever you want it to be. Specifically making sure that each day is a chance to make your ideas about the worth of what you are doing reflected in how hard you live life. So live life hard! I'm not saying there aren't things that I will recall with some amount of nostalgia, but that's the way memory works. Still doesn't mean that I want to be an undergraduate at Meredith College forever. Love it and leave it, or so I'm told.
Let's face it; graduating from undergraduate is no small feat! Many people don't have the opportunity or privilege to get to this point in their formal education. But it's important to keep it all in perspective. One of my classes this semester (which seems like a hodge podge class based on the things that we seem "to cover") discussed about how popular culture seemed to make high school appear like it was the end of life as you knew it.
Prom was supposed to be the culmination of all your worth and if you were a loser your senior year, you were nothing. Some people even returned to high school to make things "right." (And that's just a sampling of some of the classics, if you will.) My friend Jen pointed out that more recently (read: mostly post-1990s except for a real classic), college, which is slightly more accessible, has filled that role. Anyway, the point really is that I don't want my life to end now as much as I didn't want it to end when high school is over.
If anything, I think formal milestones like these should be an opportunity to renew your dedication to making your life whatever you want it to be. Specifically making sure that each day is a chance to make your ideas about the worth of what you are doing reflected in how hard you live life. So live life hard! I'm not saying there aren't things that I will recall with some amount of nostalgia, but that's the way memory works. Still doesn't mean that I want to be an undergraduate at Meredith College forever. Love it and leave it, or so I'm told.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)