School Spirit Sayings With Candy

C'aggia ago 'p' field '! - Part I (What will you be?)

When I was little I felt again the typical, usual, meaningless question that adults ask children to death, believing that you are talking about this and not with the idiot just as children: "What do you want to be?". What a bore! Here's what I thought he was being delivered Usually, boring, hackneyed, pedantic, "original" question. I was now a slave to impulses that led me to put social phobia: I was terrified by the possibility that, following my parents around, they run into someone you know to whom I would present and that they, having stupid smile as close as all'emiparesi calling card universal approval of the child so I could put the distressing question! Also because I never knew what to say! Besides, I was a child: a seven or eight years what the hell you know how you'd like to get the bread into adulthood!? When I grow up I will put the problem! Maybe I'll start thinking about the first superintendent of schools, maybe when I choose a training course in preparation for the working world! But while playing with the start of construction or appearance bim bam boom I can intrippare the head with a question like that! Only a few years later I began to understand what was the catch: Once when you're not small, no one asked what would you have most wanted to be great! The games have been made, as once the nuts were taken! For example I was fourteen I began to see the world through a completely different that chance, I would most likely able to clarify the ideas on the possible response to be given to whom I had grown the demand of questions ... But no one did more! At that age you perceive your child around in a less certainly, with a critical and a bit of cynicism never experienced before. E 'age witnessed frantic waaay hormones like frightened horses that run without precise goal in your body immersed in change (and what a change!). The age of first loves (and here, I'll specify). Abandoning his childhood, in fact, begin to evaluate what you see and hear about what you like or not, if you hate him or want to be in your future until the earth covers you, in short, you think of the stimuli rather natural that we lead even only by the imagination, where your talent is just venting. Fourteen years on, as I said, I do not remember why or wherefore, I jumped in head the ball acting. Become an actor? I! Thinking about ... If you do not mind I wanted to even the tables, how could I expect to recite the entire script theater!? And let's not hypocrisy: if an actor is not just a summit, if it is really good, recognized as such, followed by a significant result, or if he has the chance to work for the cinema, you may well forget to living with a discreet dignity. Zero = zero money

bread!

It 's a bit like those aspiring to writers, complain constantly about the vain search for a publisher that publishes even a shred of story, only to discover that they do not know where home is the subjunctive, have a clear conviction that the papal encyclical is consecutio temporis and that the than the double words are superfluous! No, no, no. "This is all wrong! This is all to remake "Ginettaccio would say (if he were alive!).
Occhèi beautiful dream ... the theater, but at fifteen he was already relegated among the things that I would never, ever made. Whatever I did grow up - I repeated to myself over the years to come - would be something that would have been committed my mind, drawn freely from my ideas, my imagination, my attitude to writing, from my ability to self-irony ... Basically I would like everyone to build on any of my talents properly trained if they had existed some ! Certainly I would not dedicated to anything that had anything to do with mathematics, calculations, statistics or any other occupation that had spared no room for the mind. Nothing that I would have locked up in day-

photocopy, in regulations to be followed to the letter, rules to be observed or rigid rules to remember. It goes without saying that many, then, were the hypothetical careers that precluded me (no professional soldier, no chance to banking ambitions, even in the presence of a staff recommendation for no mercy for the stamps and postal clerk from timbretti, no case law, nix factory worker and even outside a factory. What remains? Excluding crafts still repetitive and Midnight Cowboy ... Nothing).
One day a teacher of letters, after so many opportunities to talk (which he liked so much, were his weak point, and that I was an expert at provoking, lengthening the cazzeggiano thus releasing them from those of any Question!) tells me that with all the points read in my themes and ideas expressed in-depth classroom, I would see in a potential well academic career, no less than (ring the bells!) in political economy! SBREEENG! Economics? What the hell are you talking about Willis?!!? I did not know what to say in spite of my thoughts, many crowding in my mind, would want to turn into words an expression of disagreement with quell'illuminante total output of the teacher! I did not know what I wanted to do in the future, but certainly not economics! In short, I was. ... I was ... I was ... What the hell erooooo!? Me: "Prof, who do you pay for ideas, to put someone in the service of his own inspiration?" Prof: "Oh, no, but they are creative! Of poor people who need wait for inspiration to bring to a client a job as it should be! It is said that their idea to be promoted and then choose from those of other creative people who are usually called on "Azz ... what a mess! I was bound to be a poor man, because I felt just a ... I ... I was just ... a creative! Finally I came to know the name to give to my future! A CREATIVE! Woooow!

Location: desert. Framing the total camera dolly (the one on your arm to shoot from above. NdDaron) in long shot for me, all alone. Sound effects: the wind and the chirping of a cricket. Cepuglio a dry, rolling in and out of frame.

And now that I know what they are ...? But above all I'll do it for real ... the creative?

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