Enjoy beauty and make no war

Aesthetics is the key to a fulfilled, pleasant life. It’s never been my intention to imitate Oscar Wilde or Gabriele D’Annunzio because it might seems shallow, but in a world where horrors happen living surrounded by beautiful things helps enormously. Plus it’s easy to imagine luxury, statues, marbles and beautiful cars, but it’s way simpler than this. Indeed that would be the point – working hard and gaining the right to buy durable objects that maintain their cash price forever or even increase it -, but before getting there one should enter the mentality of being on the way to make it, allowing him/herself a treat. A treat is something useless and relatively expensive – to paraphrase Marie Antoinette it is “a macaron, and not bread”(actually she said croissant, but I am using macarons as they were invented by an ITALIAN chef at her court and she went nuts for them) – but which boost your mood and self-esteem in enjoying its sight and/or taste knowing you made a relatively crazy thing allowing yourself the try. It’s eating one oyster with a glass of white wine in a bar on a street in France instead of eating a sandwich for lunch. It’s eating a truffle pizza or drinking champagne and not prosecco for a relatively little difference for a piece or a glass. It’s buying a rose randomly and enjoy its sight, planting a particular plant, buying a charming map or a textile. The unusual and the beautiful. That’s what separate civilisation from barbarians, enjoy the beauty that life can offer instead of indulging in horrific images and examples given by reportage of countries in war and/or poverty. It’s the mentality of success-thinking in excess mode!  Coming home knowing that a luscious box of chocolates, pastries, roses will be there make of home a good, positive environment. And will make you want more, for which you’ll be pumped to gain. And with a drop of positivity you’ll make it in a way that you’ll feel you have never worked in you life as your work is your passion (cit. Steve Jobs).


That was a little preface for a project I am working on, a new website. I am willing to finally make of my gift of writing a (almost) full-time job, both by starting my own counter information journal, and by writing books. The first editions of Harry Potter are well on sight on a shelf to remind me of their author – a woman which made the most beautiful trip in her mind and made from it a bestseller which made her a billionaire. Those are examples to look at! J. K. Rowling was on the train from Manchester to London (the same I was into on NYE) when she had the idea of writing from a tiny scratch she made on a handkerchief. She was 25 and she made a billionaire trip for free that many billionaires could never conceive neither afford. Fantasy is the best trip, it is infinite and can change your world, in fact it is outer space. Rowling studied the classics at the university of Exeter, and then went to live in Manchester. So far, we have several things in common: I turned 25, went to Exeter in college on a very unforgettable camp experience when I was 16, I am currently living close to Manchester, in a countryside where from owls and strange cats Hyppogrifs might as well appear. Plus, I am an Italian raised in a family where from the part of my mother we have classics’ teachers and editors – in the country where true art was created. Indeed I have a juridical/political background from my studies – it helps when you create a “ministry of magic” I guess, or when you create a new world from a current political situation. So readers, my statement is that I will do my best to entertain you and gain your loyalty. I want to inspire you and make you dream. I want to make you mostly laugh in the website, and maybe cry a bit in the books – hence I want to move your soul. Meanwhile I would like to avoid being criticised because I don’t write in my mother tongue, but I have been so deep into the English practise (so much that also my current dissertation is in English) that I find it easier and plus practically everybody understand – nevertheless, in the future I shall translate or have an Italian translator to keep up the Italian pride.

Your support means a lot to me, thanks to all the ones that have been confident of BLONDEWITHBRAIN, with such a name sometimes I mocked myself too, but I guess it worked to make me EXCESSively confident – smiling with a lobster in my mouth instead of copying pictures or being serious! Life is a joyful fantasy if we want!

Lifestyle, Places

The erasmus/orgasmus state of mind


One year ago, I landed on Belgian hearth for the best. I was beginning an experience called sympathetically by students “orgasmus”. In fact, the sensation was this: nerves really on tense while mentally in ecstasy for every new discovery; the idea of not really knowing what I would have done with this great story, if it would be a great one night stand or if it would be much deeper and useful; it looked like a mystery, I had heard friends who had already experienced it but still the versions were all different – apart that it was widely defined as “great”, “unexplainable”, “the best time”; I had needed to open up my mind at expectations, knowing that anyway I would have trembled of pleasure counting my personal version afterwards. Oooh yeah, I couldn’t imagine at all on that 28th of January…
I fell in love immediately with my room, on the rooftop of a beautiful XIXth century house, whose owners are the greatest family friends. I had a family on the two floors down to where I was, yet I was independent in my territory, shared with three flatmates on whom I had a strong curiosity; I was told there was a Spanish guy and two girls, a Rumanian and another one that was about to leave to be replaced. The fact is that at the moment I arrived, taken from the station by a friend, nobody was there except a ballerina to which Luis had lent his room. I met him the next day but he was about to live for holidays. The Rumanian woman (she’s 28) was at her boyfriend’s in Amsterdam, the other room was occupied by an Italian girl waiting to leave it to a Turkish girl. To cut short, I was alone. And I couldn’t stress anytime my family downstairs. The first night, after the erasmus welcoming beer meeting, I got lost in Ixelles (my neighborhood) because I mistaken the bus stop. First days, I was obliged to get the idea of which exams I could do, and they were all different from the ones I thought – either I had already done them in Florence, either they were the first semester’s. Indeed I had to go to the market, get an idea on how to survive, possibly meet new people etc. I was lucky I already had a friend who introduced me and we could go out – it was the holiday period in the university so they were all free and happy -. It was great, apart the panic attack I had in an electro disco – we haven’t the same tastes -. I experienced true home parties. My floor was for long empty, and I felt abandoned there; later on I discovered that is was better, as I didn’t really get on with my flatmates… Without entering the argument, the saying “smoking like a Turkish” is damn true; but oh my, if it was just this one the problem… Let’s drop. Probably I had my little vices, too: loud music, don’t make noises while I sleep until 2pm, dangerous cooking (I monopolized the freezer to fill it with Picard’s stuff and actually cooked nothing but French fries and vegetables), home late in the night making noises with high heels, later on own guests – fantastic when I cooked waffles for Mexican big guests at 4am while I was waiting for a cab to the airport -. They didn’t know how to live, anyway 🙂
I shifted groups and friends every week, I entered the inter nation’s events, I had no center of gravity. And I was on the crazy idea of only attending russian classes and be ready to do the biggest exam from 0 to 12ects knowledge: this was my biggest bet, nobody believed I could make it but my tutor was alike, and she did her best (thank you Yulia, I love you). Ah, and I had 5 more classes than Russian, which I never attempted!!
All this looks fun, but believe me, the first period was between heaven and hell, as I fell sick for a dust allergy, didn’t know any doctor and couldn’t breath at night… And I missed my parents, granny and friends so much that I was coming back to Italy often – even for the elections! – and took them there to fill my fridge with jam and Italian delicacies, and make my mattress on the floor much more beautiful with a magnificent leopard blanket. The second period I got much more used to my life alone and I began to fill my nights with Saint Plon’s karaoke and crazy events. The only regret was to give a second chance to my ex boyfriend, a jealous desperate very Italian guy who was actually able to screw up at the erasmus gala were I was nominated miss erasmus, just because he heard speaking other languages that were not Italian that – obviously a closed minded idiot of 26 – couldn’t even make the effort to understand. If the team express is reading this post, I deeply apologize – I am very thankful for the experiences we had: Bruges, introduction to Brussels etc. – it’s going to be a regret forever, I am glad the story ended one week later in the worst of manners. Ok, not really a regret, as the best arrived later and I got stronger than ever with my ambitions and fantasies, independent to anybody. I passed all my exams with great notes and to cut short, I continued with this rhythm and I gained one year at the university. Fuck yeah, it was a multiple orgasm. I wish everybody could have the fun I had while working really hard getting results. Love to all the people that joined the excitement, it was/ still is “the best period of my life”.

My window was the highest, with red little curtains…

The side of the ULB where I had Russian classes… I miss all this beauty and green in an institution.