Winging It

I have been silent.   I have  been living like an extrovert and it has had a toll on me. Much has happened yet it feels so minuscule in the grand scheme of things. 

I left Italy. So I thought. I quit my job packed my things and came back to America. Only to have remorse. I wasn’t super upset just afraid of how I would manage in a country I haven’t lived and work in 2 years .  I started writing a plan of what my possibilities could be…..however travel is a part of me. 

I decided to work in South Korea. I ordered what documents I needed and apostilled everything. I just needed hand written  reference letters -sounds easy and yet slow. I was ready mentally to take the leap. I passed all the requirements and interviews so far. I started reading up on the lifestyle and culture of the country. I started following bloggers full of experience there. I was ready  just needed the letters from my last employer. 

I received one reference by snail mail, the other two would have to come from Italy.   No problem, I thought . I knew I was returning to Italy for the last of my things..  yet they are now my new starter kit. 

I know that my ex -boss doesn’t move st a useful pace.  I figured I would have to physically pick  up the letters.  I called her and made the arrangements. Everything   seemed on track. 

My ex -boss decided she wouldn’t honor the request for reference at the last minute whether out of sheer laziness or selfishness I cannot say.  She left me hanging which halted the possibility of working in Asia for now. 

All of these events happened literally two days after returning to Italy.   I was nervous about what to do next. Then it happened..friends came to my rescue; people I have met and bonded with over the past two years. They helped me brainstorm, gave me room and board and helped me find employment while I tried to figure out my next course of action. 

I can go back to Usa and create a life and I probably will when the time is right.  I don’t know if its just fate or my selfish desire to be in Europe.   I just know I am here-in Rome Italy , once again. Romeing the streets ,  drinking the vino, fighting with the metro, kissing a Roman, working a stereotypical expat job all while sipping on a caffè macchiato. The only question is where will I grow from here?



He is looking at models on his phone. He is laying beside me and looking. He looks at them like a computer. He looks at everything -calculated and precise. He gives little room for errror. He looks and looks and then he finds the one. The perfect match.

She is a model, 23 yrs old. She has sun-kissed brown skin like me. She has his tired eyes, my nose,  his forehead and my almond shape face. She is tall and thin like him.

He turns to me, smiles and says this is her.

Who is she?

A model.

I hope you are not asking to look like her because it’s not happening. Plus I can’t grow any taller.

Lol, no fattylicious….she is what are kid would look like..

How long have you been thinking of this?

A while now. It’s a fixation.

In so many ways my workaholic boyfriend says the things I need to hear. He knows all. He is a computer of a man. Luckily, he has humour or we would have faded.

Yet, he is a workaholic. He lives for his first born-his company. I think of what kind of life we have and it’s really warm. However, there are many faint days because his work takes him away so much.

I wonder if I would take our story for granted or he me. I wonder if we can have a family. I wonder what he will think of my little lost family. I have no “dowry” of sorts.  I am a screwup.

He is flawed too, however in an over perfectionist A -type manner. He comes from comfort and unumeral resources. He has it good and he works to keep it so.
I am thinking of my financial woes, student loans and my credit card debt. My ADD way of changing occupation as my mood changes.
My family is broken on a personal level, yet they are mine. I love them. Could he?
Would his mother love me? After all, he’s her baby. Her only family, more or less.

I ask him, how would we survive?

Easy …don’t ever let go.