STORY OF MY ADMISSION TEST

Ok, since the day I gained 500 followers

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and the day of my admission test to Languages of East Asia (Japanese/Korean) coincide, I thought you’d like to hear whatever happened today:

PREAMBLE: two weeks ago I went to Venice to see where the hell the addresses where I would take the test were. I don’t really know how (since all streets in Venice LOOK THE F*CKING SAME and some streets literally appear in front of you the exact same moment you walk past them because they are hidden by portici and houses and are extremely likely to miss if you don’t pay attention) but I got there in a matter of minutes, without any hindrance nor losing my proverbial terrible sense of direction.

DAY OF THE TEST: [NONE OF THIS FICTIONAL. Everything that I’m about to tell you happened PRECISELY AS STATED]

The test was to take place at 9 am, but “who cares”, thought my brain. “Fuck it, let’s wake up at 5”. And I did. After eating a magnum and putting on my new dress (I loooooooooove it) I took the first train at 6.51 and got there at 7.18. I know where I have to go, right? I almost believed I could get there without losing my way but, naturally, I had to take the wrong bridge halfway there and run like crazy to get to the right place (even though I didn’t really need to run). I finally got there feeling a strange nausea but I tried not to mind it as I waited an hour outside the building. Since we’re in Italy the test didn’t start before 10.30 am of course, and all the time before its beginning I didn’t repeat anything in my mind because I was too busy trying to keep that magnum in my stomach after the long run. But that’s not the funny part. The funny part actually starts AFTER the test.

I exited the building at about 12.30. I call my mom and tell her all went well and stuff, I get a little distracted so I miss a calle and have to return to the building just so that I’m at least sure of where I have to begin to get to the station again. Then a friend calls me, and since I have the bad habit of looking down instead of in front of me while I walk, I subconciously followed the feet I was seeing with the corner of the eye and ended up somewhere I had never seen before in my whole life. I quickly ended the phone call and tried to understand hOW THE FUCK I got there.

Using my GPS, I got this result.

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How the hell did I get there in, like, 5 MINUTES?

Just because fate likes to make me suffer, it started to rain really hard, and just at the same time my umbrella decided to give up on life and my mom called me to ask if I intended to take the 1.12 train. “Yeah, sure, if I actually get to the station”. It was 12.50.

I had to ask for help a few times but I finally got to the station, feeling and running like an imbecile. I entered the station with my umbrella now completely destroyed and found out the train was departing in a minute or so, on the farthest rail they could choose for it to depart, outside the building of the station. Well fuck. I tried to get out but the stream of air and water that formed in the tunnel that leads outside didn’t want me to exit. I actually had to pull a red queen and run to remain in the same position. The rain was so hard I lost both my contact lenses, but that didn’t stop me. I HAD to get to that train. I validated my ticket trying to still use an umbrella that was now possessed with buckets of rain falling on my face. I don’t remember ever shouting in public “THIS IS TOTAL BULLSHIT!” with as much strength as today. Truly a historical moment. I got to the rail and since I couldn’t see a thing I got to the wrong side of the train.

At this point I became hysterical. I started to cry and shout “Noooo! Noooo! Noooo!” running on the rail to get to the train. You couldn’t even get that I was crying since there was already a river of rain on my face. When I finally got in (my ticket now something vaguely comparable to fish soup both in color and solidity) I thought I would die from exhaustion. I was losing consciousness when water vapour started dancing all around me. In the delusion of fatigue I almost thought I would just fade away like that. I didn’t even have the strength to get up and try to find a seat. I was goo on the floor.

The rest of the ride features me talking to a stranger on the train (cute girl), feeling if my forehead is boiling yet and a terrible migraine.

Last but not least, this is me trying to take a selfie for a friend before the storm (note the already broken umbrella…. Poor girl, you still don’t know what’s in store for you):

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This is me (already at home, dead) after the storm:

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(My face still has that expression)

All in all: good day.


rollin-in:

glassbottomairplane:

Cool ghost photography by surrealist photographer Cristopher McKenney.

Wow

(via thatcrazybandkid)


chrestomatheia:

Frederic Leighton, The countess Brownlow, 1879.

chrestomatheia:

Frederic Leighton, The countess Brownlow, 1879.

(via thelogicalviolinist)


doublefuckflat:

when there’s an incredibly difficult passage and you can’t play it so you just

image

(via sassygayklavierspieler)


stunningpicture:

We have literally gone full circle.

stunningpicture:

We have literally gone full circle.

(via shung0kusatsu)


stunningpicture:

We have literally gone full circle.

stunningpicture:

We have literally gone full circle.

(via shung0kusatsu)


mangosandmantras:




where are the notes this is beautiful

the mobile version is amazing, click on it

This is amazing

Reblogged for the mobile version it’s dope

mangosandmantras:

where are the notes this is beautiful

the mobile version is amazing, click on it

This is amazing

Reblogged for the mobile version it’s dope

(Source: killergnomes, via sassygayklavierspieler)


leadingtone:

Composers at the piano: Albéniz, Gershwin, Prokofiev, Bartók, Shostakovich, Ravel.

(via beethoventheunicorn)


fishingboatproceeds:

ohcurtains:

ofgeography:

so here’s a fun story about this movie. guess who loves this movie? me! i do! i love this movie. i love this movie so much that when i was in the 7th grade and i saw “first wives club 2” on pay per view i was like: HELL YEAH!! FIRST WIVES CLUB TWO!! NO ONE TOLD ME THERE WAS A SEQUEL!!!

here’s the synopsis for first wives club 2:

disgruntled first wives take their ex-husbands’ new lovers under their wing.

sounds great, right? awesome viewing material for a precocious 11-year-old.

so i buy this movie, and like, three minutes into it i’m starting to feel suspicious?? like it’s really low quality and my girls are nowhere in sight?? how come none of the first wives are the same?? how come they’re alone in a bedroom with mood lighting?? why is she taking off her shirt?? why are they both taking off their shirts?? WHY ARE THEY—

here’s what i did not know about first wives club 2:

  • it is a lesbian porno of no relation to the beloved 1996 classic.

so of course i, horrified that i’ve accidentally bought porn on my family’s account (and in that state of panic that kids work themselves into whenever anything regarding sex is mentioned), quickly shut off the TV and go upstairs and watch an episode of veggie tales to like, cleanse my soul and apologize to jesus, and that’s that.

EXCEPT, OF COURSE:

  • you have to pay for pay per view.

so the end of the month comes and i have completely put this incident out of my mind, haha, i accidentally bought porn, how funny, TELL NO ONE. right? and i’m sitting at a nice dinner with my mother, my stepfather, and my very religious aunt deb, and we’re just talking about farm things, whatever, when suddenly my mother puts her fork down and says, “okay, there’s something we need to discuss. as a family.”

  • AS A FAMILY.

and i’m like, running through a list of people i know who could conceivably be dead, and fantasizing about my mother announcing that she’s going to buy me My Own Computer Just Because U Earned It Kiddo, and she pulls out a piece of paper that says DIRECTV across the top. and i’m like: OH NO.

"i received the tv bill today," my mother said, and i was like, shoveling potatoes into my mouth as fast as i could because i knew that when i went to PORN PRISON they weren’t going to feed me this kind of quality starch. "does anybody want to tell me who purchased the pornography?"

as a reminder, a quick table survey:

  • my mother, surprised and disappointed by the porn bill (innocent)
  • my stepfather, a grumbly old cowboy who just wants to sing along to kenny chesney and watch the hunt for red october (innocent)
  • my aunt deb, a super religious catholic whose best friend is a nun named Sister Placid (innocent)
  • me, the 11-year-old with a mouthful of potatoes who definitely purchased the lesbian pornography

silence.

my mother said, “i’m not going to ask again.”

silence.

my aunt looked at my stepdad. my stepdad looked at my aunt. NOBODY LOOKED AT ME, THE 11-YEAR-OLD WITH A MOUTHFUL OF POTATOES WHO DEFINITELY PURCHASED THE LESBIAN PORNOGRAPHY.

my mother shook her head and put the bill down. “this was incredibly inappropriate,” she said. “skip, deb, whoever. buy that shit on your own time. i’m not paying for it. what if molly had seen it?”

  • WHAT IF MOLLY HAD SEEN IT?

"don’t expose my kid to that crap."

  • DON’T
  • EXPOSE
  • MY KID
  • TO THAT CRAP

"if you want to watch porn, fine, but do it in private and don’t expect me to pay for it. i can’t believe one of you did that in the living room."

  • I CAN’T BELIEVE ONE OF YOU DID THAT
  • IN THE LIVING ROOM

but molly, why didn’t you own up to it and explain that it was an accident?

  • are you fucking kidding
  • i did not want to go to porn prison

the fun conclusion to this story is that i never owned up to it, which means that there are 3 people in the world who have not solved the mystery of the lesbian porn. a quick survey:

  • my mother, who lives every day wondering whose porn she paid for
  • my stepfather, who probably wishes he knew less about his wife’s sister’s porn preferences
  • my aunt, who probably wishes she knew less about her sister’s husband’s porn preferences

but molly, why don’t you own up to it now, with the safety of time and distance and the knowledge that porn prison isn’t real?

  • are you fucking kidding
  • this is the best thing i’ve ever done

what an amazing story

Wow.

(Source: bellecs, via shung0kusatsu)


operagifs:

Women Composers in Opera Week

La liberazione di Ruggiero dall’isola d’Alcina - Francesca Caccini

Some dude named Ruggiero is trapped on an island because of a seductive sorceress named Alcina. Androgynous sorceress Melissa, disguised as Ruggiero’s old tutor, Atlante, goes to rescue him. A cool magic battle ensues.

Ruggiero is the first opera written by a woman, and Caccini’s only surviving opera.

(via bachtothefugue)


Friend: I think opera is boring.
Me: Tu, che di gel sei cinta, da tanta fiamma vinta, l'amerai anche tu. L'amerai anche tu...