Book Snob

Vacation leaves a lot of free time for reading, thank God. I am thoroughly enjoying being able to go through my books, and linger in the bliss of being able to go through pages and pages without any further obligation. I am having a great time. Not much sun, but a lot, a lot of water and a lot of sleeping. Bedtime in Maui is set around 8:30pm. Believe it or not, I think I might be the oldest 32-year-old on the planet! :)

So, David Leavitt's "The Body of Jonah Boyd" has not impressed me. The book is okay to begin, steers toward good, but it's never great, never brilliant, never really enticing. The last chapter kind of is, as it puts on a full new twist, but it's not his best book. I was somewhat disappointed. I have moved on to Three Junes, by Julia Glass. So far, it's not too bad, there's a brilliant recommendation on the back cover by Cunningham to read it... but... you know how a single phrase make you decide that a book is really good?? A single image, a single phrase, sets you up for a pleasant reading? Well, here I have found the opposite. ON PAGE ONE THERE'S A GRAMMATICAL ERROR!! AAAARGH!!! Can you find it? Or is it me, shying away from my former knowledge of the English language??? (Please tell me you can, and (hint!) that word in English is really a plural!)

I'm such a book snob!! :)

Bye Bye Brain

Complete System Failure. My neurons are completely gone. I haven't formulated a full original thought since I have left San Jose. Is it me? Is it Maui? I don't know. All I gotta say is, this is GRAND. I like waving my brain goodbye from this fabulous island. If I come back with an IQ of 35, don't blame it on me. It's all about the sunshine...

:)

PS: Ann-Marie McDonald is great. Fall on Your Knees is as powerful as a fist in the stomach- but gosh it's good!!

I don't know why...

I find myself so incredibly obsessed with this new Pope. I mean, not like I care what he does/ says, it's just that I'm back to where I began, the recognition of the power of this person who's going to "rule" over a billion people. Now, that's a lot. Romans at their peak didn't rule over a billion. Maybe British at their peak did, but that's about it. I'm wondering what's illuminated, what's going to be good, how can he avoid alienating all the people who don't believe in a vengeful God. I'm so fascinated with the process, the hierarchy, the formalities. I don't know what it is. I am curious, curious out of my mind!! I wonder if it is the morose curiosity of rubberneckers, or vultures: those who know something bad is going to happen and can't wait for it! I'm a little baffled at this attitude, I can't help it. I just so hope I'm wrong. For all that billion who really lives by his dictates...

RatzingaZeta

(e qui, o la sapete o la sapete, non c'e' niente da fare!)
(Un altro disclaimer: non e' mia, non so chi l'abbia scritta, un genio probabilmente... e' arrivata forwardata con la posta odierna. Un mito!- la mia parte preferita sono le croci rotanti...!)

IL GRANDE RATZINGER

Ratzinga!
Ratzinga!
Ratzinga!

Trema,
Il regno delle Tenebre del Male
Dalla Fortezza di San Pietro arriva
Con i pugni teologici
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa

Tuona
Si scaglia dal sagrato contro il male
Se sei il nemico prega e' gia' finita
La Chiesa batte i denti, c'e'
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (croci rotanti!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (pater noster!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (ostia di fuoco!)

Ha la mente di Lutero ma tutto il resto fa da se'
Non conosce la paura ne' za italiano ke koz'e'
Lotta, cade, si rialza, sempre vincera'
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (rosario atomico!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (lama del diavolo!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (doppio amen!)

Ratzinga!
Ratzinga!
Ratzinga!
Ratzinga!

Forte,
Con uno sguardo spacca in due il conclave

Dagli occhi sputa fuori salmi gamma
Non c'e' chi e' forte piu' di te

Ratzinga, Paapaaaa
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa

Ha la mente di Lutero ma tutto il resto fa da se'
Non conosce la paura ne' ne' za italiano ke koz'e'
Se hai bisogno puoi invocarlo, con la bibbia apparirà
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (bombe gnostiche!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (luce divina!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (spada teologica!)

Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (sermone perforante!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (incenso atomico!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (pugno teologico!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (croci rotanti!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (doppio amen!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (ora pronobis!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (acqua santa!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (lama diabolica!)
Ratzinga, Paapaaaa (doppio rosario!)

Chiamatemi Gufo

Dal minore di tutti i mali, alla foto di zio Fester, non c'e' niente da fare: oggi mi sento nella mia migliore versione di gufo. Se mi guardate bene si vedono gli occhi a palla e la consistenza piumosa. Anche come forma mi avvicino, bella rotondetta. Porca miseria, da un reazionario all'altro. Dopo un Papa Polacco, un Papa Crucco- xche', come si diceva, crucco e' uno stato d'animo. Proprio quello che ci voleva!! Inoltre, possiamo anche chiamarla "Congregazione per la Dottrina della Fede", ma questa e' in realta' l'Inquisizione, rinominata all'inizio del Secolo... insomma, c'abbiamo il capo dell'Inquisizione come Papa!

Pero' I Have a Dream.

Nella nuova ritrovata "fede" penso che Dio sia piu' buono di cosi' con noi, e gli fara' vedere la luce: Ratzinger ci stupira' adottando politiche progressiste, tipo, sostenere l'uso dei preservativi in Africa e rivedere la politica sul divorzio. Poi iniziera' a dire che Dio e' Amore e non Odio, e il messaggio di Gesu' e' di dire di si', non di dire di no, e quindi bisogna tutti volerci bene, anche gli uominisessuali, anche i depravati, anche quelle che non arrivano vergini al matrimonio. E a chi sta con i mafiosi, a chi alla domenica va alla Messa e il Lunedi' evade il fisco, fa le corna alla moglie/marito, presta soldi a strozzinaggio, chiude la porta ai marocchini e fa il tifo per Bossi, niente piu' assoluzione, e vediamo chi la fa la Chiesa! E se uno invece si sbaglia una volta e alla fine decide di divorziare, allora a loro gliela diamo l'assoluzione, e anche a quelli che usano la pillola e il preservativo, a quelli che si vogliono bene e fanno del loro meglio anche se convivono e non sono sposati. Insomma, ribaltera' le regole e fara' una Chiesa per tutti, una Chiesa per chi ci crede che la Chiesa serva a qualcosa, non solo a coprire i misfatti e le trame politiche e i secoli di livore.

Vedrete, sara' una rivoluzione, un vero illuminato!!

Forza RatzingaZeta!!!

(questa e' Rowena nella sua migliore edizione da Copy, ho provato a resistere alla tentazione di non pubblicarla fino a che non l'avessi fatto tu nel tuo blog, ma... ma non ho saputo resistere. Non posso non usare il concetto di RatzingaZeta, Rowena, perche' e' una delle tue uscite piu' geniali!! Penso che RatzingaZeta mi dara' l'assoluzione...)

Countdown

Vacation vacation vacation. That's all I can think about: vacation, beach, sun, sea, relax, sleeping. Water, fishes, swimming, more sun, great food, sleep. Am I making sense? and if I'm not, who cares??

I have found myself irremediably European when it comes to time off. For those who don't know, I took the entire month of December off, and then some. So, it's only been 3 months and a half since the last time off, no-project-on-sight, but it feels like a century. I'm tired, I'm cranky, I NEED a vacation. It's seriously physical. I have a hard time concentrating, I'm tired "inside", I'm craving these next TEN (yiiippiiieeeeeeee!!!) days of nothing but relax. I'm kind of afraid that moving forward it's not a good sign that I have such a physical need to stop every 3 months, but... oh well! I just don't understand this American policy with time off, like ten working days are enough, in a year, to rest and recollect. I BLESS my company, and its fabulous policy of giving overtime in additional vacation. It's the best company in the world!!! I was listening to the radio the other day to this host who was making a fuss about the fact the State of California is giving out additional time off to employees. He was saying, that's not money, that's just time nobody knows what to do with!! It makes me flip. Like quality of life, spending time with your family (even if you stay home!) are just useless extras nobody should care about. Whatever.

Anyway. We're leaving Wednesday. Ten days. FREE. It doesn't get any better than this... :)

Papabile...

Prima di tutto, Buon Conclave!! Vorrei onestamente prendermi tutto il credito per questa BELLISSIMA immagine... ma in realta' viene direttamente da qui. Pero' il tipo e' un genio, e questa foto e' da collezione...

Voglio Zio Fester come Papa!! :D

Women of Success

This entire things about barely being any women writers that we like triggered an interesting conversation on women. PattyZen was saying, what is it? Is it because the give birth to children instead of books? I guess. I mean, partially I think that's the case. And what's with this obsession with gay writers?? (As we're there, let me just sidetrack a second: Alice Munro was abandoned after one and a half short story, unbearable!, while I found a great, great writer in Ann-Marie Mac Donald. I'm reading Fall on your Knees and I'm loving it! Apparently, Ann-Marie is gay. This is getting to be a joke!!)

Anyway, I think it's wrong to use the same meter of judgment with men and women. We consider a man successful when he's got a career, a pile of money, a nice house, nice car, pretty wife and well-behaved children. We consider a woman successful by the same parameters, although they try to sell you the family-only portion of it. Let's try to set some more realistic parameters, okay? I consider a woman successful when she does something she loves. Whatever that is, she does it with passion and dedication, without loosing sight of the things that are really important for her. I don't consider successful a woman who gives up her family to pile a bunch of money, nor if she gives up outside life to make her children the universe. I consider a woman successful when she manages to do both, or either, and she's happy about it. And maybe she's not making a lot of money, and maybe her children could use more discipline, but hell, I consider successful a woman who manages to put HERSELF at the center of the universe. Who has the courage to realize that without making herself happy, she won't be able to make anyone else happy. And if that's through work, passion, volunteering, or even raising children, I don't care. A successful woman is she who finds for herself something she adores to do, and does it for herself and for others.

What defines success in your world? What defines failure? What do you think?

Catholic In Spite of Myself - Cattolica Mio Malgrado

This was going to be my next post anyway, but Heather beat me to it.

You know, with the Pope's death and being raised Catholic, IN ITALY, and all, I've been giving this entire topic a whole lot of thoughts recently, and I have to say I disagree with Heather. In the end, I have found myself catholic in spite of myself. Let me elaborate.

My entire value system, my entire ethic, is based on catholic values. Whether I pretty much disagree with the church in every possible way imaginable, I have found that I am a catholic. I act like a catholic. My belief system is based on the catholic teachings.

Now, now, let's not get carried away: God is One, no matter whether they tell me it's three, I just can't buy it (and I believe I could be officially labeled heretic just for this!). I don't buy the Bible, I think it's a great religious tool, full of good intentions, but its historic truthfulness... c'mon, we're talking about a document elaborated in times when barely one millionth of the population knew how to read, and it hasn't been updated in the past 2000 years! The infallibility of the Pope is BS, the policy on contraception is medieval- gosh, the entire policy toward sex is counter-nature: if God didn't want us to enjoy it, He wouldn't have made it fun! Of course, I believe my kids should really mean the love they make to other people. But they shouldn't have sex only after marriage, that's ridiculous!!

What I mean is, I believe in the power of charity, in all being the same in front of God, I believe in a loving God, and I believe that I will have to pay my dues in front of him for my behaviors. I still haven't decided whether that's just my conscience I need to report to, or is there really some after life deal. I guess you can say I'm a discriminating catholic. I have built my own system of belief, but it's deeply rooted and founded on the religion I have been taught. The person I am, the things I believe are right or wrong, my moral, my values- all have a lot of catholic in it.

So, when I raise my kids, I think I will raise them catholic because I want them to share the same system of values. In the process, I will also teach them that nothing that they learn in Sunday school should be taken as unquestionable truth, and that they need to look critically at the things that are fed to them, and decide for themselves what they want to with it. I will teach them to be as discriminating as I am, but I want them to have that set of value to guide them through life. After that, whether they decide to elaborate their own belief system, or be church zealots, I will love them anyway. I will for sure fight the teaching of a terrorizing God that looks down at your faults and is willing to punish every single move!

You can say I'm not in that much disagreement in the end. It's all about the tools to reach the same goal: love our children and hope they learn only the best stuff!

The Stage 2

I had an inspiration for a short story. I'm not sure where this will end up going, but I kinda liked it... I was feeling so proud of my work, but Cielo did not enjoy. Uhm. Thoughts?

Uh, one more- last night it was U2 night. We went to the concert here in San Jose. It was amazing, great, fabolous! any inspiration for the story... well, comes straight from last night!!

:)

The Stage

From here, I see it all. The power to enflame a crowd, the power to transmit my message. I'm not on top of wooden planks, I'm on top of the World tonight. The hands I touch, they're changed forever, while for me it's still another sticky feeling on my palm at the end of the evening. The girl I pull out of the crowd, she's going to talk about this for months, while to me it's just another faceless body, yet another ecstatic fan.

I love my job. I hate my job.

Does it make sense? I'm not sure. I'm not sure it makes sense that my job exists, that my job gives me this unbounded power over the people I can touch with my voice. Whatever message I want to transmit, I can do it. I use the tools I have, every year some new ones, and I change the path of the people who cross me. I'm glad I'm with the good guys. There's such a feeling of alienation in all this. I love the feeling of empowerment, but I hate the same people who give it to me. I hate their morbid curiosity, the fact that they strip me of my privacy, and yet, they are the very thing that keeps me going. I'm at the same time one with my audience, and separated from it. I enjoy my never ending popularity, and I hate it for the things it steals from me.

Love, hate. Power, weakness. Is mine a job, or is it a mission? The border is not that clear. I cross it, deliberately, and then I step back, afraid of what I've done. My ends will never meet anymore. I've become a prophet, in spite of me.

Un Treno Diretto a Sud

Ieri la mia amica mi ha mandato un'email che richiedeva una preghiera per il Papa. Sul momento ho pensato che fosse ubriaca, mi ha fatto ridere che non ci fosse una nota umoristica alla fine, o almeno, mi ha sorpreso che mi avesse mandato una mail cosi'. A me! Possibly the least fan on the planet. Le ho scritto una mail dopo mesi che non ci sentivamo, dopo un eccesso di bullshit scoppiato in occasione di un matrimonio. Anyway, volevo essere umoristica, evidentemente non ci sono riuscita.

Penso a tutto il tempo passato a pensare, ci sono persone che devi accettare come sono. In fin dei conti, ho imparato tanto da lei. Io, sempre protagonista a tutti i costi, ho imparato a prendere il sedile posteriore. Lei era piu' protagonista di me, sia negli eccessi che nei momenti in cui mi guardava con senso di distacco, alla, fai pure tu! Ascolto gli U2 e penso a uno dei momenti piu' belli passati insieme, e non era un momento felice. C'erano gli U2 che cantavano Stuck in a Moment, e lei mi raccontava dei problemi che aveva col suo ragazzo, delle ragioni per cui dopo tanti anni non riusciva piu' a stare con lui, quando lui era la persona con cui pensava di stare tutta la vita. Era triste, e io ero triste per lei. Abbiamo pianto e ci siamo consolate, e quel momento da solo e' forse il piu' bello davvero di tutti gli anni che ci siamo conosciute. Anche tra i momenti buffi del nostro "epico" viaggio. Le tenerezza di poter parlare con qualcuno che ha il coraggio di dirti le cose che devi sentirti dire, io a lei e lei a me. C'e' un affetto intrinseco in quei momenti. Non so se da quella sera di qualche anno fa sia cambiata lei o sia cambiata io, o meglio ancora, siamo cambiate entrambe in direzioni opposte. Sono rimaste della nostra amicizia solo le cose che non hanno mai funzionato, quel senso di condivisione e' sparito. Per certi versi mi dispiace, anche se il nostro rapporto non e' mai stato semplice, o scontato. E' sempre stato una cosa da conquistarsi. Il che e' da solo la cosa piu' grande che ho imparato dal rapporto con lei. Lavorare per appianare le incongruenze, le differenze. Penso che la mia voglia, o la mia disponibilita' di lavorare per avere le persone nella mia vita non sia piu' cosi' forte. E' come se si nutrisse delle mie insicurezze, dell'inevitbile adolescente che mi porto dietro e che sta morendo, ogni giorno di piu'. Penso che sia la stessa cosa che succede a lei.

Penso che lo strappo che abbiamo creato sia difficile da ricucire. Ho pianto due giorni sulle cose che mi ha detto. Come me le ha dette, dove me le ha dette. Ma piu' della nostra litigata, penso che gli eventi del giorno prima mi abbiano allontanata da lei. Neanche le cose che ha detto e fatto lei, quelle che ha detto il suo ragazzo. Perche' l'unica fonte da cui lui poteva attingere per permettersi di trattarmi in un certo modo era lei.

E anche se pensavo che saremmo riuscite a parlare ancora, a ritrovarci in quel territorio fragile in cui riuscivamo ad essere anche buone amiche, adesso non ci credo piu’. Non sono ancora sicura di avere capito se mi dispiace o no.

On the Delusion of Being Hip

Yesterday, I've done the hippiest thing in the past year and beyond. I walked out feeling really like a trendsetter, a true, real modern hipster, so "avanti" you wouldn't believe. What did I do?? Well, this:

Today, I feel a little delusional. Wearing red socks with white shoes, and feeling hip. I guess that's what happens as you get older: you start feeling very trendy for very stupid things! As an alleviating circumstance, I'd like to point out I was wearing a white shirt and a red sweater over my super-favorites low cut super-super-super hip jeans. So, it kinda did make sense- I was a little hip...

By the way, those were my bridal shoes. :)

The First Time

The first time I fell in love, I was head over heel for this guy, Fabio, a 14 years-old boy who used to come to my parents' restaurant. He was short, and had a huge, HUGE nose- he was the only one of his friends who was not dating. I was madly, deeply in love with him. His friends used to tell him "Don't worry Fabio, you still have Vanessa!" and I would blush, secretly flattered by the fact they would even acknowledge my presence. Little did I know, it wasn't a nice thing! I had all the symptoms, heart pounding when he'd showed up, secretly looking at him, and run away when he'd talk to me. He was my true passion!! I was about 4 years old. I have had a fling before with Marcolino del Mercato, but nothing serious... that was when I was three.

The first time I've been in love as in way that I was actually trying on his last name after my name, I was 14. It was the low-tech equivalent of meeting on the internet: we were pen pals, a brilliant idea of my 8th grade Italian teacher: she had two classes in two different schools, and she'd bring back and forth letters for each other. I started writing to Christian, he started writing to me, and we clicked! I had never seen his pictures, and I was just amazed by the things he was able to tell me, to write me... he sent me an orchid for my birthday. I had never been treated like that! I was in love. I refused to kiss him, and then I broke up with him. Don't ask me why. It sort of went away.

The first time I kissed a guy "with the tongue" (what? you didn't use to be teenager and inevitable dumb, and writing such silly things on your diary??), I was way past 14. I know, given my early start you'd think it'd take me less, but I was a late, LATE bloomer!! He was a year younger then me, tall, and I found him terribly handsome. We were on the beach, and my knees were shaking. He was such a doll!! He obviously had more experience than me. Oh well! I broke up with him a month later, when the fascination of exploring kissing with the tongue had faded out. And so had the summer.

The first time I hated someone, it was my 5th grade teacher. If you ask me, I possibly still hate her. I loath her, for all the humiliation she put me through, and for her incredibly stubborn attitude, and for the fact she did change me forever. She brought up my cynic attitude, and to some extent she forced me to hide myself in order to be accepted. I hated her, and I hated all my classmates and their incredibly strict code of behavior. For example, I couldn't tell anyone my parents were not married in church because I was at a catholic school, and that would have gotten me expelled. To this day, the most vivid memories I have of Elementary School, are the very bad ones of 5th grade. And that's why I still hate her.

The first time I read an R, I wasn't sure how it was supposed to be done. I was reading Topolino and my Aunt was around. "Hey, Zia Pina... what is this??"- "It's an 'r'"- "oh... rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... so... trrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrree!!!"

The first time I dreamt in English, I didn't understand a word. It was the weirdest thing, I was there, looking at my dream scenery, and I understood nothing of what was going on! It's gotten better since. ;)

The first time I got into a car accident, I was driving. The bike. Who crashed into the parked car. My FriendinChina was sitting on the bike's handle, we were chatting along, and I just went straight on the back of the car. Well, to be precise, SHE did: she slid from the top of the handle and ended up sitting in the car back, after butt-breaking the rear windshield. A classic, I swear!!

The first time I sailed, it was love. The first time I dived, it wasn't.This brings on the next one: the first time I went to the Ocean with the diving class, I got bitten by a sea lion. You heard it right- a sea lion. First time in the history of the Marine Mammal Institute of Monterey Bay that a sea lion attacks a human unprovoked. I got three- 3!!- stitches to prove it!! What do you have??? ;)

The first time I got my period, it was a mess. And it was way after ALL my other friends already had. Late bloomer- I told you! The mental thread connecting these two events is that I participated in one and only one sailing regatta, and I got my first period the morning of. The same day, I managed to get a serious abrasion to my right breast, pretty scary- as I was trying to go out with the... I don't know the English name, trapezio!, for the first time. Oh, so, this one is a multiple one!!- the first time I tried to go out with the trapezio on the day I got my first period while participating in my first regatta, I fell pretty bad on the side of the boat and got a huge scar on my left breast. I had to go to the ER, really!! and you can still see the scar tissue. Actually, my Mum still blames that episode for my... ehm, asymmetry. I know it was already "unequal" before...

Okay, I had some more swirling in my head, but I can't beat the triple one.

The first (and only) time I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with someone, I married him. :)

Den Helt Uofficielle Rasmus Klump Fanside

So, tell me, am I the only person ever, ever reading the stories of Petzi the Bear growing up??? Do you know how much you have missed out?? Gosh, I had almost forgotten about him, and then Bertilla made rolled omelettes with jam last night, and there it is!!


Petzi Bear, with the pancakes (in Italiano frittate) and his friends Pingo (the Penguin) and Pelle (the Pellican).

Okay, so, you get the insight into Danish childhood. But I'm Italian!! :)

On the Dynamic of Sitemeter...

Ever since I have installed this funky color-blind counter on the blog, courtesy of the Top Ten Advice for Your Blog (some blog who won one of the Bloggies award, a constant inspiration for me, it's so funny!), I have been tamed, addicted to checking who comes by and visit these pages. Apparently, there's someone in France who- check this out!- BOOKMARKED my blog!! Wow... and someone in Germany constantly checks in from "Le Mie Cose"... and I don't know who he/she is! On top of this, I can tell you that Rowena still didn't get her acts together and switched to Firefox (ROWENA!! That sweet little fox on the right hand side, just above the counter... click it and install it, for heaven's sake!!), I know that Esse only checked the blog once, and to do so he had to Google it 'cause he didn't bookmark it (!) (speaking of which, you'd be amazed at how many websites come up as Bridging Jones... PEOPLE, her name is BRIDGET, Bridging is me and only me, courtesy of Rowena!), and I know that Cielo only checks it when forced by outside events (like, me threatening to ask for divorce). Also, one of the more affectionate visitor is the RoommateOnApple (it's not a drug, but almost!), and I think the second ranking one is St., checking from Interbusiness several times a day (did I get you right???). And then I wonder why RoommateOnApple understands me better than Cielo!! Also, some people land here by just hitting the "Next Blog" button (on the gray portion at the top) as they're browsing Blogger. Their average visit length is about zero seconds- I might not be as interesting as I think I am... :)

Since I like this, and I am getting a total kick, I need more info on everyone else- so, identify yourselves!! You can simply do so by clicking on the counter, and then on the left hand side you'll see a small menu saying "by details"- click on it- the one at the top is you- it can be from a domain name or an IP address, tell me what you see so I know who you are...

REVEAL THYSELF TO ME!!!

:)

Che nessuno lo dica a Berlusconi...

Da "America Magazine- The National Catholic Weekly" (eh?? visto che letture in tempi di conclave???), leggo: Chi puo' diventare Papa? Chiunque, basta che sia (uomo e) disposto a farsi battezzare e ordinare prete e poi Vescovo. Ahia!! La polemica e' scontata: speriamo che non lo scopra Berlusconi!!! S. dice, ma no, lasciamoglielo scoprire, che cosi' smette di fare danni in Italia ma li fa al resto del mondo... alla faccia dello spirito sociale!! Diciamo che i danni che puo' fare guidando "solo" l'Italia sono comunque meno gravi di quelli potenziali se facesse il Papa. Ahahahah!! Berlusconi Papa!! Silvio Primo!!! mi sa che rido da qua alla prossima conclave!!

Beh, insomma, bisogna stare attenti, che questa informazione non cada nelle mani sbagliate!! In questi giorni cade a fagiuolo (come mi sento poetica oggi!!) il romanzo di Dan Brown Angeli e Demoni. Dan Brown e' un tipo particolare, evidentemente ce l'ha con l'Opus Dei (che non mi sembra una cattiva partenza!), ed e' molto critico sia delle gerarchie vaticane che del ruolo della Chiesa. Insomma, un buon momento per sentire da un punto di vista molto terreno una storia romanzata sul conclave!! Leggete, leggete...

Baci!

Chi Pontifica e Chi Smette di Pontificare...

Insomma, lo sapete tutti che non mi e' mai piaciuto. Che le sue posizioni reazionarie sono incondivisibili, che sul ruolo della donna e' sostanzialmente rimasto fermo al Medioevo e che nella dottrina non ha fatto niente per tenere i suoi fedeli o quantomeno nel cercare di capirli. Pero' e' un uomo di 84 anni che si spegne, una presenza costante, nei telegiornali, dalla finestra, abbracciando i bambini con l'AIDS e perdonando Galileo... e' come se morisse, se si stesse spegnendo, un nonno che vedevamo ogni tanto, che non sapevamo cosa dceva ma era tanto buono con noi... GPII e' diventato papa quando io avevo 5 anni. E' l'unico papa che mi ricordo, per molti e' anche l'unico papa.

...e giusto per aggiungere una bella nota polemica, considerati i nomi che girano oggi sui giornali (Ruini??? Ratzinger??? Biffi???), potrebbe anche essere il minore dei mali!!

Per chi avesse voglia di una bell'analisi sui problemi della Chiesa oggi, qui trovate un articolo molto, ma molto bello sulla Chiesa vista dal punto di vista americano, ma anche dal punto di vista del nuovo secolo. Molto bello. Per esempio, sul ruolo della donna:

"For growing numbers of American women, the church is seen as an institution riddled with a sexism that does not take their concerns seriously. Not only ordination but birth control, altar girls, lay preaching, inclusive language and fair treatment of lay and religious staff are seen as issues that particularly touch women. In the 19th century, the church lost European working-class males because it stood with the status quo against the inevitable movement of history. There is a serious risk that the church will lose women in the next century the way it lost European working-class men in the last.

The growing alienation of women from the church is extremely serious because it is women who, as mothers and teachers, pass on the faith to the next generation. This is a fact unrecognized by both church leaders and feminists. Women already have a vast amount of power in the church because as mothers and teachers they determine what the next generation of Catholics will actually believe. At best, the priest has 10 minutes to preach once a week. Women interact with children and teach them constantly.

If women are mad at their pastors, if they are angry with the hierarchy, if they are anticlerical, the next generation of men and women will be anticlerical. To expect priestly or religious vocations from families with anticlerical mothers is ridiculous. The church cannot survive without the active support of women."

Anche se lungo e complesso, val la pena leggersi tutto l'articolo....

Insomma, anche se non penso di essere mai stata d'accordo con te su niente, Ciao Papa.