(old) Proper presentation

A couple of months ago, I started writing an online journal. As I was not happy about a couple of things, I decided to migrate to a new platform. I will recycle some of the old stuff, though :)

So, let’s start with the title of the journal.

I was born on an island, named after an island, and I plan to live on an island, that’s why I thought about an island in the first place.

Ewa Munchkin is just a moniker I created since it doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever used, and also for some other reasons, not least the fact that I’m quite short, and Munchkins look better than Hobbits or Dwarves.

Chanting is what I do every day as part of my daily Buddhist practice, and it’s the best thing ever.

‘The Island of the chanting Munchkin’ is an imaginary place, a bit like Neverland. The similarity would be perhaps more apparent if I added that the Italian translation of ‘Neverland’ sounds like ‘The Island that doesn’t exist’.

My Island right now is based in S.P.Q.C., although very often when I go there it looks suspiciously like London. Oh, well.

Who are the inhabitants of this imaginary place? Of course they are real people, but when they enter the sacred space they are given a new name. I’ll talk about some of them, the most important ones, in no particular order.

My parents. Given that I can just name them Mother and Father, there’s no need for much thinking here. But someone, years ago, nicknamed them ‘the Reed and the Monkey Bread’, that can give you a very pictorial idea of them. Mother is an actress and a painter, Father is a pianist and a composer. I love them and I am impossibly proud of them, they are the best parents ever. They are both Buddhists, and one of the best things about receiving my Gohonzon was thinking about how happy and proud I was making them with my decision.

Grandmother. (the paternal one) We are strikingly similar. We are both strong in every aspect, cynical and sometimes a bit cold. She made a lot of mistakes in her life that I hope I won’t make, and is to date my role model. She was a feminist before the word was even invented, and was the first woman to go to a motorcycle in Sicily. I’m rather proud of her, too.

Cousins.

The male one, I shall call him Drummie, since he’s a drummer. He’s handsome, tall and funny, and always mocks me because I’m short (and I love it).

I was born only 44 days after him, but we grew up at the opposite ends of Italy, so the person that could have been by all intents and purposes my twin brother has been nothing more than a mere acquaintance for the first 21 years of my life.

Then I moved to the north and lived in Urbs Brixiensis for two years. Unexpectedly, and quite unlike his elder sister, he accepted my silent proposal of making up for the lost years, and I now think we’re quite close. One of my most cherished memories was the night in which, while we were smoking in his car, he told me that he was proud of me. I love him to bits.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my other cousin, too. But, truth be told, she is pretty much a stranger for me. I barely know her and she barely knows me. And she thinks that lost years are lost, which I find rather depressing.

Gilgamesh. We used to share the uncommon pleasure of studying Russian together under the guidance of the most unbelievable Russian bitches in the entire world (ok, maybe I’m exaggerating just a tiny bit). We also share a perfervid love for the Sicilian language. He’s now studying composition in a city in the North of England. He’s like a big brother to me. A couple of days ago he told me that he knows me better than I know myself, which is probably true.

Wiligelmus. He is an old-fashioned gentlemen. Possibly the only person in the world that combines being a guy with the ability to give compliments.

He is one of the most intelligent people I know, is kind, modest and for some reason regards me as an equal :P

After two years, I still haven’t figured him out, I just know that having a conversation with him is one of the most rare, surprising and stimulating pleasures.

Rozovaya. She is probably my best friend. Studying Russian together really creates strong bonds between people. One of the few people around that know everything about me. She’s a Goldstar Lesbian and has absolutely no idea of how intelligent, talented and beautiful she is. Bad parents can do that.

Kiwi. He is my last boyfriend. We’ve been together for two years and a half. For many many reasons, that I now look in a new light given my recent discoveries about my sexuality, it went totally wrong. But he is, with Rozovaya, one of the few people that know everything about me. The thing that was really wrong about us is that he regards harsh criticism as the highest form of praise. For me harsh criticism is just harsh criticism. The good thing now is that I can use him like a punchball, criticizing him in the most brutal and wicked way, and he LIKES it. Freaky.

Then we have my wonderful Buddhist friend. Some young women I had the fortune to meet in London. They’ve all supported me in every possible way and are nothing less than sisters for me. There are very few things I won’t do for them. I remember waking up every morning at six to chant for an hour before work for one of them. But they deserve another post, as I haven't invented their names yet.

And then there is the ‘certain person’. I will write a lot about her since she's my first fix, and although for reasons dictated by circumstances I avoided proper Lesbian 101 with her, I'm not totally over her.

How will I call her?

Mmmh…

Since I’m a Munchkin, she could be Dorothy….

Sorry, no.

The sheer thought of her in a blue dress with plaits and ribbons made me laugh to tears.

Not the type.

Actually, among the characters of the Wizard of Oz, she reminds me more of the Scarecrow, since she’s tall and her style is sometimes scruffy. But, no. It’s not nice. I must admit that more often than I should I address her in my mind with not so nice names (when she doesn’t answer to my emails, for example), but still.

I think I will call her Plump-cheeks. She would definitely hate it ☺. Not that I’m planning for her to read this journal anytime soon, mind you.

She is one of those girls who are, so to say, feminine in a different way. Not girlish. And yet, with all her short hair and neutral clothes (even the smart working clothes she wears at school), there are certain lovely feminine features she can’t hide. Like her exquisite hands. And her beautiful round hips.

Well, enough with that.

So, this is a first look at the Island and its inhabitants.

I shall add more of them from time to time.

Poka.