Monday, July 12, 2010

How Does Exercise Affect Your Period

Care retarded is like the cashier at the Post Office

Dear David,
how are you? Late I've written, you must have a lot to do because it does not usually happen! But I, I rush to answer, as well as stop because of damage the view of these accursed books, because even today I have seen a scene that I was very, very colpita.Sai what I am proverbially indifferent to the problems of the disabled, as is also ruthless in front of children or the elderly with chronic down, you know it? Do you remember? "I've always been like this: I do not have never felt any pity for those who lived in such situations, although, since childhood, had always been very conscious of the terrible misfortune that can befall a persona.Ne I've always had some awareness, but without any effort, I would keep separate from any form of pietism, sweetened with consternation, that I never appartenuti.Credo that I feel sorry for them only when I realized that nobody would have wanted them as partners, apart from those like them, of course, and I toyed mind thinking about the possibility that they would understand, I wondered, "but they understand that they are different? that will never mother nor father, nor husband nor wife?". We all hope to find our own half, maybe have a family, but they? They have it and know that it is impractical or do not understand it at all? I would prefer not understand it, of my own.
Going back to what happened to me today ..
I was at the park with Gilmour, to study under a beautiful tree that shaded it gave me a bit of shelter from sticky and unhealthy these days romani.Erano just 10 in the morning and the park was almost deserted except for some with grandfather grandchildren in passeggino.Poi however, appear the side entrance of the villa a woman, at least 50 years, apparently delayed (if you did not understand from the face was enough to notice the ridiculous way in which they had tanned pants with pink flowers, t-shirt with a sun that laughs, cap Excursion yellow primary and a lot of grayish hair trapped in two pigtails, a scary thing, remove the dignity of a woman who is not answering himself in this way!) with his carer, a woman all well-dressed Italian who held braccio.La caregiver for grabs two plastic chairs next to my table and have less than 3 feet from me, behind the tree. On one sits on top and she makes us sit down the woman who looks around and Gilmour and see me, with my mouth open stupid but in a face with intense eyes, a bit lost, but how about those same concentrations, taken his sguardobcon quiet, then the lady pulls from her purse around his neck of the envelopes, plastic sheets, which contained scraps of newspaper interviews with the personage of Twilight. As a

11enne short.
After a while, for no apparent reason, while the caregiver is busy talking on the phone with her daughter looking for a vanity case, the woman begins to cry, so softly, covering her face, as if the fall vergognasse.Lasciati sheets with interviews with his actors, still sobbing, leaning on itself.

The caregiver, with nervous to close the telephone conversation and grabs the woman by the wrist, but turns to the side to not be looked at in the same volto.Credendo not seeing or hearing, the woman began to scold the lady, saying, "Why are you crying?" What the fuck you want now? ".
At that point, something has stirred in me, so I got up from his chair and I approached the tree, just to see the bitch I had seen and heard and that I did not like were going cose.La caregiver looks at me and smiled embarrassed and removes his hands from the wrists of the woman who slowly stop crying while I do not know what nemmenod bristling falsely, the caregiver begins whispering to her words to make it calm.
2 minutes and the woman calls the figlia.La lady turned to my table and looks at me with her usual expression, but the mouth is closed and the eyes are still moist with tears.
I have his face printed in my mind as a picture: the yellow hat, the tails and the face of a ridiculous old woman. I
a million thoughts went through my brain right now, and I would like to join everyone, but I do not know come.Forse is because it is the first time I feel really sorry for the qualcuno.Non know.
do not know how and to what extent, among the mentally disabled, unable to understand that they are "different", not to be self-sufficient, to have the power to need the love of another, you have to wait several days, no surprise, nessun'esaltazione, no kiss or a phone call which evokes the blood in the veins, niente.Se they understand it, what are different from us? still share the same despair, or the same speranza.Eppure their state of subjection, makes people feel like this caregiver, the padroni.Meglio that dogs, because dogs are beasts, but they can be masters of human life, can dispose of at will, can cause tears or smiles, because everything depends on them, and if they are deserved, yes, because God has willed they were better, superior.

The carer was on the phone while you miss out on this not stand it anymore .. do not understand a shit. "And the lady was there and looked into her face while uttering those words at a distance of 70 inches.
Where is the altruism in this? This woman will be going to tell half of what the world is patient and charitable, but the face of those efforts as a smile and a paycheck from 1300 euro, are enough to make it happy, while the sad sad truth is that she hates it, as every employee hates his job. The is always equal and nagging, dull and depressing, like a job as a cashier at the Post Office. Before
nice to customers who do not even know how to pay the bill and then, more and more indisposed to give direction on the compilation of bollettini.Ma holding out for pay.

And so it is for the caregiver: The first days are bearable: it has thought about money every month, not many, but far short, the habit that would help her to bear and hold on a view of vacanze.Ma then? After a while even the habit is not enough, the limit of endurance ends and begins hatred that leads to blame, since too vigorous handshakes, silly and neglect charges.
So every charitable instinct is to fuck off and it's all a matter of resistance: resistance to pay later.
not sad, for both? Is not it sad for you and me?
Where is the altruism in this, how can we speak of altruism when you do something for money? It 's just a job, carry around other dogs, or tell an old man like a complete Bulletins: there is no difference, the equation is the same, always.


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