I can not sleep.
I'm waiting for a response. One of those answers that changes your life. In a second a number on a piece of paper, fragments of bits on a pdf document, decide my next two years.
I decided what I want to do in life. We arrived after several steps.
I think I really wanted to do an astronaut to the fifth grade. Then I discovered that my stomach could not hold the curves of the Monte Penice, and that this step would met with some resistance from 5000km/sec accelerations.
I think I also wanted to make a football player. But 13 years in boys mysterious mutations occurring hormone and discover that you've marked up the center-year rose by 20 cm in 6 months and has shoulders that have become the double of yours.
Then you start thinking that never grow up and that no team will take a bamboccetto like you.
Then you find that you are well too low, but that's another story.
At age 16 I decided that I would become a director. "We like Dawson, so what?": The path to a profession is so coveted even more tortuous if the blond star of "Dawson's Creek" besides the passion for cinema, also share an embarrassing hair.
So I got rid of the hair. But then I started thinking about all the movies I had not seen, and that my film was still "Gattaca", despite my passion had pushed me to authors of all respect.
Maybe I missed the feeling. The heart was director, but his stomach was still a spectator.
At 18 I discovered that real luxury would not be directing a film, but to write it. Put in the mouths of the characters in your jokes, you decide their fate. Imagine the words take shape in your mind in imaginary dummies. Fantastic.
Then I began to write. The short on the last Over the last tram of the history of Milan, the short boy's unfortunate that investigates the suicide of his coentaneo hundreds of miles away and finally the film.
After seven drafts, two years of work. Changes in the plots, characters, actors, ideas, jokes here "good reason to lie." 123 pages that no director could ever put on stage.
The script is still lying there on the shelf under the stereo. No one has ever read the final version is completed. Just as well, I never liked it. And I mean, not like those artists who sign Reeks of masterpieces and say, "Yes, I was going to delete it but then I did not get to bring down the garbage and I are having at home."
My second film is still stable on this pc and I think we will stay for much longer.
I once thought, "what is the moment I feel really accomplished?". I think to see in a cinema in my town, at the beginning of the projection, the words "written by ..." farbbe I feel sufficiently "arrived". My life would end, I would not need to see New Zealand or to parachuting. I had it all.
20 years in the same summer I read "Latin American" by Ernesto "Che" Guevara and the collection of speeches selected by Enrico Berlinguer Veltroni and I found that in 20 years you could not sit in front of a computer writing about boys suicide while the world was falling apart.
Then I discovered politics. The only tool that can change people's lives. Or so I thought.
For a short period of time I believe I was naive enough to think they want to become a diplomat. Enough at least to join the faculty of political science, international degree course.
Then I studied international law. As is constantly rejected. I remember studying the resolutions of the General Assembly and Security Council. I studied the worst atrocities carried out around the world from countries that have saved us from fascism. I studied the perverse effects of globalization, the distortions of a false economy of the world market.
Meanwhile the company is culturally impoverished barbarized and has good ideas of Ernest Henry and probably also on the left were starting to beat.
must be in those months that the Democratic Party was born, when ideas were changing and I was left behind. If there was a time when I thought I would devote myself to politics as a profession, success is surely too late. Times had changed, or maybe I had changed. Yes we can.
Then a beautiful girl gave me "Chechnya" by Anna Politkovskaya. I read everything I am waiting for a flight from Orio al Serio, a cold December morning.
At that moment I realized that the book had "made it" much more of the assets of all Russian opposition parties put together. A journalist had opened a window on the situation in Chechnya, helping to dispel the fog that had hitherto concealed the worst harassment in which the population had undergone.
"Great!" Lighting. I wanted to be a journalist.
E 'spent a year and a half and that glow has not yet failed, maybe it was the right call.
I rebuilt this story lying in bed in one of the many sleepless nights that separate me from the communication that look, if I was or not admitted to the journalism school in Milan.
When insomnia I still get angry. I think of how many people profess no particular love for their work. They could do the architects of the testers as subways, would make a difference for them.
not interesting to anyone but I really want it, but it is so.
will mean that I will continue to say that between me, lying in bed with the windows wide open rooms in a desperate attempt to create a magical play of drafts.
I wish I could say it's the heat that does not make me sleep.
cheer for me!
Jerome
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