I remember I lived my eighteenth birthday as a turning point. Although at that time I were hospitalized for intestinal influence only a couple of days away dall'appendicectomia (experience that I would not wish on my worst enemy), I imagined that from that day on, I would be really cool things that happened exclusively.
First I got the license (I was fairly sure I would have done in less than two months), then I would become an active citizen and I was going to vote (no matter who or why: the idea excites me as a strike to challenge the lack of toilet paper to school) and then I would FREE . Free lining of tattoos from head to foot, to attend and anyone at any time and secretly hoped that my mother recognized my undeniable maturity and stop hindering my story with that metalhead from the beautiful green eyes and long hair (which for Incidentally, while I pativo in a hospital bed, he sat on a Croatian beach a few with friends: ah, how love makes us blind!). None of
this happened. I managed to pass the driving test just a few days before the provisional license expired (of course the blame was all dell'istruttrice), I went to vote (yes, but absolutely do not remember for whom or for what reason), I made no tattoo and the mission of my mother continued to be to prevent by all means my story with the fantastic and mysterious metalhead (he did it with unwavering consistency for all six years later).
As for freedom was therefore practically chained to a radiator .
As for freedom was therefore practically chained to a radiator .
I looked back and in hindsight the question springs to mind: "But why all this [@##° mania of the age of eighteen? .
The eighteen years I changed my life, I would say that did not change anything. I was basically the adolescent unlucky (bad luck should be included in textbooks of developmental psychology as a distinctive feature of this phase of life ) I was before and I was stuck in that situation of limbo for many years yet.
Yesterday I turned thirty .
This morning I woke up with a resounding doposbornia. It was as if someone had violently punched on the head, right on top of the skull. As soon as I raised my head from the pillow I heard a wave nausea.
Symptoms of a certain age? No, mere symptoms of an epic party with thirty friends at the Cuban restaurant (almost the only place in Padua, which I love), with annexes sangria, rum and mojito like rain.
were now a couple of years that I was saying that my thirtieth birthday would be remembered in the history of parties, so that, to prepare for the event, decided not to celebrate at the time nor the thirty nor thirty-nine.
Last night I turned to the restaurant beaming, I approached groups of friends to chat with everyone and I am convinced that I have spoken to each of them " I'd like to freeze this moment and relive it in loop for the rest of my life. "This is because, if the eighteen have not changed a worthy bean, thirty crazy are pretty cool and have all of your close friends to celebrate with toasts and songs millemila the beginning of this chapter is the best that can happen.
, I mean, the chain that bound me to the radiator is broken and finally fled. I live with my FF (which gave me a weekend in London: How long will the days until the date departure!) in our apartment and sunny, although I have to work hard ten times more than when my mother took care of everything, I can say that I live exactly how I live. I even making a tatuaggetto capolino dalla schiena e talvolta mi prendono dei raptus per cui scrivendo faccio un uso smodato delle parentesi. Non so se sia una questione d'età o se più probabilmente mia madre si sia resa conto di quanto sia chiaramente fantastico il mio FF, ma lo adora tanto da farmi la predica ogni volta che le sembra che non mi comporti in modo impeccabile nei suoi confronti (ovviamente non è il metallaro).
Ieri sera nessuno si è lamentato dell'orario a cui sono tornata a casa, anche se era mercoledì e stamattina sarei dovuta andare al lavoro (e pure in anticipo, visto che l'AD ha avuto la brillante idea di fissare un appuntamento importantissimo praticamente all'alba), nessuno ha chiesto spiegazioni sul My goggle or because it is out of the house wearing socks (clean) of my FF, indeed, I received text messages and emails of congratulations for the success of the event I had planned for years in practice (people who can not stand for centuries have managed to coexist in the same few square feet, and from what I hear, they are also fun).
Last but not least, I look in the mirror and see an aspiring writer who is about to sign a contract for the release of his debut novel (short a dedicated post, I'm not going to confuse this event in a dedicated post for more).
the face of that bastard of a gray hair that has the curtains on my hair.
Tie.
Staff Writer
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