Don't Call Child Services

I promise I am not a neglectful mother. I am writing posts and posts on my computer, and I have about a billion pictures to put up. But the problem here is connecting said computer to the intarwub. So be patient, mi amichi.

Dreaming of dreaming in Italian,
Bee Electric

P.S. I love it here.

Here's lookin' at you, kid.

Sometimes it's so wonderful I can't even speak. But the novelty is starting to wear off, on both sides of the table. The list of things I can't wear is growing by the minute, and the list of clothes I have left is shrinking just as rapidly.

Prohibited items:
My heart shaped sunglasses [the evil eye...or something]
My dread falls [too strange]
No skirts of any kind to school, including dresses
Any of my tights, which rules out any dresses, skirts, shorts, etc [also too strange...and I won't wear anything short without them. Probably most of my dresses and skirts would be too strange as well]
My boots [not sure on this one, but I think so, because they make me too tall]
Flip flops [out of the house]

So that leaves me with...uh...my tshirts, jeans, and 2 other pairs of pants. Tank tops, too, but it is too cold in the mornings to wear them and so I'd have to change at lunch time. That's not enough clothes. Like, literally...I figured I'd supplement my pants with other wear, but apparently that's not an option. I'm trying to face all of it with a smile, but sometimes it's hard. I keep telling myself "Three months..." but I hate that I'm already saying that and it's only been two weeks. To tell the truth I felt kind of awkward and out of place wearing my gear [you know...more out of place than usual], especially because it seems like every time that I go out I have to explain why I'm wearing a certain thing, and "um...because I like it" is starting to wear thin.

I almost feel more sorry for my family than for myself...everyone else got someone pretty normal, and they got, well, me. You'd think that when they got the pictures of my blue hair they'd have figured out that I wasn't the usual. But I guess not....I don't know, maybe that's when they decided that they only wanted me around for just the three months.

This evening [stasera in italian] was a little frustrating, because we went to this "Festa de l'Unita" [Unity Fest], and I was sitting there with my mom, sister, and my brothers' girlfriends [that's one per brother, not multiple for one], and they started talking about me, right in front of my face. Maybe I just understand more than they think I do, but when they start saying my name and "California" and pointing at me it is kind of a little not subtle. Of course, my Italian is not perfect, and they were talking fast [partly because that is just the Italian way, but partly, I think, to inhibit my comprehension], but [I think] I got the basic main ideas. They don't like the way I dress, that it is embarrassing. [Then on the way home my mom specifically told me not to wear the tights/possibly the boots.] They don't like that I don't talk very much. I'm sorry, but I'm not used to talking much, unless I'm really hyper, nervous, sometimes tired, or excited about something. As I have explained numerous times, I spend most of my time alone, and/or just listening. I'm trying to talk more, but since it's not a habit of mine, it doesn't occur to me to speak when others are having a conversation. I don't usually have anything to add, anyways.

Before they didn't like/were worried that I didn't eat much, but now I guess I eat too much. I adjusted to the whole big meals thing, and now I get hungry in between. Is that my fault? Apparently so. But I'll cut down on the snacking at home/eat less at meals, even though it'll be hard. I'll adjust again.

I can understand why they're frustrated, but can't they see that I'm trying? Here it is totally different from before, and I'm sorry if I can't change my style, eating habits, and personality and under two weeks [today was my 15th day in Italy]. I don't know...maybe it's partly my paranoia...but I have been working so hard to make this work, and have a good time besides. I get up on time, make my bed, keep my room clean, help set and clear the table, pretty much do everything I can to be a good kid. But it still isn't enough.

I don't know. This is a whiney-ass entry, but I'm tired and frustrated and my head hurts. So I'm going to bed without brushing my teeth because...I don't want to go to all that work. Fuck it. Tomorrow I'm going to get up at some time [I'm not sure when I need to be up...I think I'm going to set my alarm to 6 just to be sure. though right now it is 2:24 so that doesn't leave me much time for shut eye.

Trying not to burn out,
Bee Electric

How you say "flush"?

Holy crap, mi piace Italia! Where else can you get home at 1:30 am after driving to another city with your [older] brother and his friends for pizza and croissants [and nutella]? I don't know. But something I do know that my ole pal DANIEL could learn a thing or two from Alessio. Sorry, bro, but I really don't think that you would take me and a friend who barely speaks English on a quest like that. With your friends.

But yeah, I just had two [huge] pieces [to call them slices would present an inaccurate image] of pizza, a cup of Coca-Cola [regular...though the cup lids had a "light" button I've yet to see such a product 'round here], and a nutella-filled croissant in Caserta, Italy. It was tres bien. Though near the end of the second piece o' pizza I was so full I was getting that gagging thing whenever I took a bite. But I choked it down, and it was delicious. Then we stopped on the way home and Alessio bought me a croissant before I could say no. So I ate that too. At this rate I ain't gonna be eatin' for a week, I'm so danged full. Caserta is looooovely, all cool lookin' and LOADS of people about, even though we got there at 11 o'clock or later and left after 1. There were even families with kids running around getting pizza and nutella things and whatnot. It was fantastically ridiculous. It was also quite warm out, which was pleasant, and it even rained for a wee bit.

We spend a while wandering the streets [looking for the Pizzeria? I'm not even sure] and holly molly, I so want to go shopping there! Judging by window displays alone it is supah-cool! When we got to the Pizza place we stood in line for at least half an hour, I reckon, maybe longer. And this is at 10 at night! Crazy. But the pizza was worth it. When we were walking back to the car, we passed a cigarette vending machine, a condom vending machine, and a calling card vending machine, all in the space of a block. How strange.

I had the best time tonight, even though I understood about 0.1% of what was being said. It is weird, I didn't before realize how many "sh" sounds are in Italian. Maybe it's a southern thing. But seriously, it sounds como tutte le persone sono parlando la lingua da russia or something.

It's kind of wonky how much American culture is integrated here [and, to some extent, how much Italian is in the US]. For a lot of the time [mostly when people aren't talking, as that's a dead giveaway] it hardly seems unfamiliar. When I got here last night I ate a croissant with nutella [quite the popular snack] and had a glass of milk [ha! they do have milk here, mom!] with NesQuik [sp].

I woke up this morning [well, afternoon...] at 2:30. PM. I felt super-rude, but I hella needed the sleep. I should probably go to bed now but I can't sleep. So right after I got up [I didn't want to take a shower because it was late enough already] I had a huge plate of pasta. I wasn't even hardly hungry, so I could hardly finish it. Plus there were some shrimp. Whole shrimp [which reminded me of Nato and my "camerones entires"]. I was gonna eat 'em, I'm not a wuss like that [even there were, you know, eyes...and legs. Hanna wouldn't-a been able to stomach the sight of them], but I ran into a problem. How the heck does one attack a whole shrimp, like to eat it? What parts are edible? How do you get the shell off? These are questions that need answering. Anyone? Anyone?

So that pretty much filled me up [plus there was some fruit salad with, i think, pears, grapes, and peaches...mmmm...], and then later I had some biscotti saltatie[?] at these people's house, and then even later some German chocolate pudding [that's chocolate pudding from Germany not Germanchocolate pudding]. So by the time pizza rolled around "starving" was not a word one would use to describe me. And now even less so. But it was all delicious.

The O.C. is pretty big over here, which is pretty rad, as j'adore that show. Tuesday nights! Yessss! And Dani, my hostsister, has the DVDs. In italian, so it could count as studying, right? Oh, and Alessio has the LotR Extended DVDs. Como mio! I love this family! Dani also has the O.C. cds, and so I've heard it a bunch in the car etc. And listening to one of Alessio's friends singing along to Jeff Buckley's "Broken Hallelujah" was nothing short of awesome.

Some things are a little frustrating, like the whole not being able to figure out how to flush the toilet thing. And then not having the words to ask for instruction [I eventually got it across]. But, for the most part, it is freakin' awesome.

Some of my more wild outfits are going to take some working up to, I reckon. No one dresses that way around here [they were all dressed so nice, tonight...I kind of feel like all I brought is trash] and so I'm kind of a-feared of being the only one. Not that I wasn't the only one in C-state, but at least everyone was used to it there. And I spoke the same language as them. Oh well, I'll have 9 months here. It'll happen.

It is hard to get used to being in the same place [that's not G-town] for an extended period of time. I haven't been bringing Tupelo [my camera] with me much when we go places, partly because I usually have no idear where we are going when we set out, and also because I'm a little worried about taking pictures until I speak a little more Italian. So, whenever I'm somewhere, I'm usually like, "dang, I wish I had brought my camera to take a picture of this!", and then I stop and go, "Bee, this is the supermarket. I think you'll be back."

A notable difference between Italy and the U.S.: even though it is a cliché, there really are a lot more cute boyzZz here than in the States. Driving down one street I saw more than I saw for the past month in the US. [Ryan being, oh, I don't know, the only one] I highly suggest walking down a street in Italy and just giving yourself over to the enjoyment of the eye candy. Or, better yet, stand still and let them walk by you. Oh my it is lovely. If you're really lucky, get a [pretty cute, I admit, and a good deal less Satanic than first believed]n older brother who has cute friendzZz that you can hang out with for hours in the middle of the night. Because that is SUPURB.

I'm not entirely sure what is going down for the next week, supposedly there is orientation stuff in Maddaloni [the next town over, where my school is] and then a trip to Capri, but Dani says I'm starting school on, I think, Wednesday, and I've heard a gazillion other things about what's happening so I guess we'll see. But tomorrow is: Church, and Pirati de Caribe [sp] due! Haha, mom! I'm going to see Pirates, fer sure! This is my reality!

Staring at the huge pile of crap spilling from her suitcases,
Bee Electric

Habla italiano?

This is going to be harder than I expected in terms of lingualosity. My host parents [hereafter referred to simply as "my parents"] speak very, very little English. However, my sister speaks enough to communicate in a kind of Itanglish sort of way with me, and my brothers seem to speak a bunch, but I have not conversed with them at length and therefore am not too sure. Perhaps a little more preparation beforehand would have helped, but, really, "L'uomo e la donna stanno camminando" doesn't really get you anywhere when you are talking about light switches.

One sweet thing, fer sure, is my digs. Their house is pretty danged large, and I get the uppermost room. This means it can get pretty hot, but there's a fan, and I can open the doors/blind things to my balcony to let in cool air as well. Do you like how I nonchalantly tossed out "my balcony"? Yes, I have a balcony. It is pretty much AWESOME. And also provides a place to paint my nails without asphyxiating the entire household! Note to self: Must investigate said balcony for sun exposure. Possible tan acquiring area.

But my room here is larger than my one in California, has a double [I think] bed, a wardrobe with big mirrors, a large television, DVD player, a couch and coffee table, and various other assorted chairs and small tables. And a bathroom. That's right, a bathroom. With a sink, toilet [which I have yet to learn how to flush], buttwasher [I believe, no confirmation on that], and shower. All to my self. Yesssss!

On the down side, even though I have all this room, there is not too much in the way of Places To Store Clothes. I think I have a grand total of three [small to mid size] drawers and one half of the hanging space in the wardrobe. But never fear. Things will get put away, and I may have to utilize one of my suitcases as storage space for items temporarily out of circulation.

My luggage is still lovely and wonderful, though perhaps a little more dirty than when it began. This, I reckon, is partly due to the JFK ground crew/baggage handler people's tendency to place luggage [lying down, mind you, for maximum touchage], on the nice, wet, dirty tarmac. Woohoo! Unfortunately, though it indeed served me well when finding my luggage in the sea of black at JFK, the unusual colour (supah-bright pink, incase you didn't know) of my suitcases did not immediately distinguish them from the luggage belonging to our group of "exies." What are the odds that, in a group of 11, there will be two people with Pierre Cardin bright pink luggage? Not in my favour, apparently. Luckily they are different styles, plus mine are a little newer and have neon green locks, so we did not get them confused.

Though I started in JFK in typical isolation mode, and was beginning to be worried that I really would have no exie friends on this trip, by midway through our Heathrow Layover [and boy was it a long layover] I had homiezZz galore. And so I won't be as lonely as I had thought. Though I still do have a heck of a time remembering people's names. Oh well. C'est la vie.

Heathrow was pretty cool...lots of rad shops [including a Boots, which I didn't end up making it in to] and whatnot, including a Grand Old Britain [or some such self-promoting name] store where you can buy all the England souvenirs your hot little hands can grab. Though I spotted a few purchase worthy items, I have decided to wait to buy those until the trip back, when I will have a better handle on how much I can spend and how much room I have. Another return-trip purchase I would like to make: a pack of cigarettes, if not for the product inside but because they all say "Smoking Kills" or some other similarly blunt message on them in big bold letters, as opposed to the US packs that have a tiny little Surgeon General's warning tucked into a corner.

Heathrow is also, I think, only the 2nd airport (I cannae recall where the first was) that has "designated smoking areas," little plexiglass rooms in the middle of the terminalway that folk flock to to smoke their cigarettes. There is about an inch of separation halfway up the walls so they don't all suffocate, and they enter and exit through refridgerator type flaps. It is most excellent indeed. They also have smoking sections of [some] restaurants. In the airport. It is tres non-US.

Paying for the internet sucked, but I think it turned out OK. Our plane got delayed so I got to use up [most of] the rest of my 3 hours, time that looked like it was going to be wasted. The internet situation here is a little more grim. There's dial up on the computer downstairs, but it's a windows and so I'm not sure that I could plug the ole 'Bad into it. Since I only got here at 2 or 3 am, I'm not sure what the intarwub deal is in the rest of this town, at school, the library, whatever, but I am fer sure going to do investigation into this. Blog posting may have to be limited to once a week updates, but I will type them up daily as much as possible so they will be dated correctly, just officially go up in quick succession.

Well, I got more than that but it's quarter after 5 here and I should try to get some sleep [which probably won't be too hard, seeing as I haven't gotten much lately and kept falling asleep on the plane....it is only 8:15 pm or something in California, so that'll probably mess me up] because I have a long day of unpacking, showering, and getting to know Santa Maria a Vico and my fabulous fam!

Enjoying her chapstick a bit more that usual,
Bee Electric

Airport Musings

The pensive young man in the red shirt lounged in his chair, foot tapping impatiently and contemplating suicide. The goddamn people weren't at the desk and he needed to check in, needed to get home, needed to see his parents one last time. He flew back home to Minnesota, suprising his parents, who were overjoyed to have their son back at home. His mother cooked up a magnificent feast, but when she told him to wash up for dinner, he went upstairs and blew his brains out. Ma could never eat apples 'n' onions again, after that.

Please Use Dipped Headlights

I feel like I'm lying when I say that I'm in London and I kind of am. Heathrow isn't London. It's an airport, its own dominion. But here I am and I'm exhausted. I keep falling asleep for brief moments at random times...like in the airport right before boarding at JFK, and when the plane was taxiing into here. Oh well. The end is in sight and I'm paying too much for the internet.

But Jesus is smiling down upon thee because you can see picturezZz from my trip thus far here.

Driving on the wrong side,
Bee Electric

Somewhere over Wyoming

Ashton Kutcher's new movie, "The Guardian," looks patently retarded. After watching OK Go perform their treadmill video live at the VMAs made them even more my hero than before. Which is saying a lot. God, another movie I want to see: the Science of Sleep. Jackass looks like the stupidest TV show evar. Paris Hilton is pretty much supah-hawt, fer sure. These are the disjointed musings of a 16 year old watching mTV on an airplane.

It is a rediculous thing that I say two "The beatings stop when morale improves" t-shirts on guys in ponytails in the security line at 5:00 am in the Oakland Airport. What the heck is up?


Stuck in the window seat and needing to pee,
Bee Electric

Jet Planin'

I'm leaving today. My head is going to explode.

Just a little overwhelmed,
Bee Electric