incontinence

you never really know how long you can hold it until of course when you absolutely have to. i'm speaking, quite obviously i assume, on the very tender moments right before you nearly piss yourself.

my trip to Venice this weekend was awe inspiring to say the least, a minimum of a week would be needed to fully take in half of the city and gain an infantile understanding of even a quarter of it. i began my trip from the train station and immediately proceeded to deliberately lose myself in the labyrinth of buildings, shops, and vendors-i succeeded. about the time i was ready to find my way back i also became unignoringly agitated, the constant bombardment of aromas from the several pizzerias and ristorantes was intoxicating and i felt obliged to stop at one...not counting the two gelato shops i browsed along the way. the food, like much of the food in many of the small cafes in Italy, was not only delicious but brought on tempting thoughts of wine and espresso.

after leaving the cafe i continued my search for "alla ferrovia" so i could at least have a point of reference so i could buy a few items and also in case i got seriously lost. as it turns out, it was too late; the bottled water and fanta i had walked around with seemed to form a comraderie with the machiato and glass of wine i had enjoyed at the cafe and were conspiring to make and lapse of movement excruciatingly uncomfortable. i continued to calmly attempt to retrace my steps but to no avail. i was lost and i had to pee--BAD!

i  ended up finding not only two of the most sought after landmarks but also a hard-rock cafe, a puma store, and two armani stores. my predicament was obviously beginning to affect my problem solving skills because after perhaps half an hour i realized i had only walked in a large circle; to say the least i was exhausted from having to restrain my bladder the entire time! i continued my search no longer for the train station, but now for a bathroom; i followed all signs and arrows that led to the fabled toilette only to discover that public toilets are pay per use, (WTF!!!) i knew that i had no energy left to fumble in my pockets for the 1,50 Euro it would cost to use so i wisely decided to continue moving despite my brief consideration for using an unoccupied alleyway.

*for any debating a trip to venice it is indeed wonderful, however do not pass up the chance for a map...i was lucky enough to chance upon one near the pay bathroom*

surprisingly and despite my terrible sense of direction i was able to find my point of origin although at first it was unrecognizable because i came from a different direction. yes, i had circled the entire fucking map. i remembered that a somewhat seductively glistening italian woman on the train had been in line at a bathroom at the train station so i went there. i was wrong of course because there was no bathroom, it was actually a ticket booth or something. i walked swiftly back outside and down the path i had first travelled, i happened across a Hotel Continental and the name seemed to imply to me that they spoke some semblance of english. HOORAH!!! I WAS IN LUCK!!! i asked a man behind the counter if i could use the bathroom and he gracefully with what i could only imagine was a quickly fading smirk pointed me in the right direction.

relieved now. i finished my day by buying my mom more stuff she didn't need but would undoubtedly find a use for, dissassociating myself from street vendors eager for the rest of my monopoly money, and finding a train back home. 

the moral: don't be a dumbass use a map or a camel pack.

was it always like this?

since redonning my position as martial arts instructor to the masses it has once again occurred to me that although i am not a parent myself, i may make a better one than the many i have contact with regularly. now this is not to say that any of them are bad parents; at heart i believe that they try to do what they feel is best...the sad part is that they usually only end up doing what is easiest. this is detrimental not only to their children but also to their relationship with them.

in short: kids are punks.

they complain and whine and back talk and cry and all other manner of aggravating actions. why is this? who the hell decided that parenting was about giving your children the world without also giving them a means to make sense of it?? i told a child recently "you can't learn if your mouth is open and your eyes and ears are closed" and i stand by my statement. children should learn early on that the way to get what you want is to learn from the people that already have it or have had it, not to bitch and moan all day until another person's will breaks and they give in. put simply, life is tough; you will fall down, you will be cut, you will feel pain and kids should be taught that those feelings are okay, they are natural to help with learning. the problem is nobody wants to be tough anymore, everyone wants the easy way out; everybody has to win.

BULLSHIT! teach your kids to fall down, get back up again and wipe away the tears that shouldn't even be there unless they were broken up or bleeding...profusely. i've decided that kids are pansies because their parents are pansies. kids expect you to give them what they want because their parents lack enough of a backbone to ever tell them "no". 

GIVE ME YOUR TIRED, YOUR POOR

YOUR HUDDLED MASSES YEARNING TO BREATE FREE,

AND I WILL TOUGHEN THE LITTLE BASTARDS UP

AND TEACH THEM WHAT RESPECT MEANS. 

glazed eye sockets and empty pockets

all though i have not yet spent a great deal of browsing through europe i have already decided upon a few essential items for anyone wanting an appetizer of italy.

Wine: wine is cheap and delicious; i'm gonna say it's because it's usually made locally. bottles of the good stuff can be found for under $10 where american can be used but usually just a few euro and you're good to go.

Gelato: it comes in lactose free kinds (usually fruit based) but basically it's ice cream.a few of the "normal" flavors would probably turn Baskin Robbins on its own ass...i'm excruciatingly lactose-intolerant but never pass up gelato.

Cappucino: i don't even like coffee but something about this addictive beverage has me fiending for it. i've probably had more espresso in the last few weeks here than in 21 years in the states.

Cheese/Chocolate: though not neccessarily from italia the stuff is everywhere. who the hell knew these two simple everyday items could be such pieces of edible art?

Olives: the uses and the different kinds of olives are simply astounding. i've only sampled a few so far but i haven't been disappointed yet.

Bread: i'm not entirely sure if italy or france is the "bread capital" but like cheese and chocolate it's everywhere...and it's all good.

of course there are tons of other things i could list here but i won't, mainly because i don't care to, it's my blog and i'll do as i please. i have a book to read and a tummy to fill so

cappucinos and sexual confusion

cappucinos are a big thing in america mainly, i believe, because they are so delicious and less so for their aesthetic differences from the capitalist norm beverage of "regular coffee." cappucinos also have their place of esteem in italian culture but only before noon...for men anyway. apparently it is socially acceptable for men to drink those in the morning but after 1200pm you may be considered gay if you do so! the hetero conscience male's drink of choice is the espresso or the macchiato which come in tiny, little cups with tiny, little spoons on tiny, little plates. 

personally that seems kinda gay to me, but what do i know i'm american.

now the interesting part is not that cappucinos have the cream that the other drinks lack or that they share similar amounts of caffeine despite the fluid ounce differences; the most interesting fact in all of this is that the italian men (the one's that will think you homo for enjoying an enjoyable drink after the forbidden hour) all dress very...confused. i don't believe a man wearing crotch hugging leather pants and a v-cut shirt that extends to his navel has the right to judge anyone else.

perhaps i exaggerate their flamboyancy, but it's still pretty bad.

i guess my point is that i couldn't give a damn what time it is, cappucinos are delicious and no teacup sipping, leotard wearing italino is allowed to judge me while looking like part of Prince's entourage.

getting into the swing of things

it's been a while since i've done anything that anyone with an ounce of sense would call productive but i think maybe i'm coming around. in the past few months i have mad a conscience decision* to continue school as well as get off of my ass and practice martial arts again. the last one alone i believe is worth a cookie. :D

school, as important as it may seem to some individuals has always been a bit of a let down for me; either i was extremely bored and penalized for my refusal to do "busy work" or i was excited to begin and learn a new subject matter and penalized with inadequate teachers. so needless to say-but i'll say it anyway, i wasn't the honor roll bumper sticker sort of student.

martial arts on the other hand is something i have been in love with ever since i first saw the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles back in the 80's, to not have anything to do with it for as long as i did was in a word...devastating. the reasons behind why are riddled with too many excuses and socio-political jargon to discuss without rekindling forgotten anger so i will let them pass. not only is it a joy to relive aching muscles and sore throats, but to be transported to another country to enjoy one of the activites i knew i would participate in forever simply because of the love i had shown for it earlier is phenomenal. sometimes i wish i could just get a glimpse of the future so i wouldn't waste so much time on arbitrary feelings and thoughts...

*a conscience decision is an odd phrase i think because aren't all of our decisions conscience? unless i'm wrong-and i highly doubt that i am- unconcious decisions are labled instinct, something our bodies and minds do without conscience input. but whatever, maybe i think too much...consciously.