The Times They Are A Changin'

Today at lunch, Cely, the maid and I, were talking about marriage. I find myself having many random conversations on topics that have nothing to do with anything relevant to my current life, but I always have deep conversations with Cely. I asked how old most Filipino women are when they marry, and she looked me very seriously in the eyes and said, young. She gave me a piece of advice that I already know, but will cherish anyway.  

No matter if you have an unplanned pregnancy, need love, or want a green card, don't marry young. Don't worry, I won't! 
Cely got married at 19 and I asked her why she agreed to it if she didn't feel ready. "I don't know what happened," she told me. "We met in November and were married the next April. He came over one day and him and my father had a conversation, and I don't know what happened after that. I got married."
Last night I met up for some drinks with my friend Jeanny who just returned from Amsterdam to visit a friend. I'm so happy I have my partner in crime back in Rome with me. She got on the wrong bus and kept me waiting for almost an hour before we were supposed to meet, but I didn't mind. I sat at the bar talking to two men who just might be reading this right now if they remember the name of my blog. One man, Brian, is 63 years old and from Scotland. Brian is living in Rome as an accountant and when he told me he was 63, I thought I'd be clever and tell him he's almost at one of my favourite Beatles' songs (When I'm 64). This turned into a conversation of how Paul McCartney is at the top of his hate list. Being a fan, we argued back and forth, and he wrote a list of other people he hates. So here is Brian's hate list:
1. Paul McCartney
2. Sting
3. The Queen of England
4. Someone named Margaret
5. George Bush
The other man who kept me company while waiting for Jeanny is named Steve, and he's a priest from Ireland. He's quite young for a priest - my guess is early 30's. This Tuesday, my cousin Erica and her boyfriend Derrell are finally arriving in Rome, which means that between Tuesday and Thursday I will have absolutely no time to update my blog as I'm their own personal tour guide of the city. 
I very recently found a picture of myself back when I was 13 years old. It's hard to imagine I was really that young (I'm sure I'll be saying the same thing in another few years while looking back on my time here in Italy). At that point in my life, my idea of a good weekend was taking stupid pictures of myself and talking on the phone for hours with my girlfriends and watching That 70's Show after school every day at 4. At this age I liked to copy what my sister did, and she introduced me to some of the best music of time. The Beatles, Neil Young, Bob Dylan, etc. I pretended I knew all about them when really, I hadn't read books or understood the depths of the lyrics, but because my cool 16 year old sister liked it, I thought it must be cool too. 
Five years later I still listen to this music and am making it a personal goal of mine to learn the harmonica. I have the tabs of Bob Dylan saved on my computer and visit the park as much as I can and practice practice practice. So far I'm no Dylan, but I'm working on it. When I was 13 I was for some reason obsessed with... ugly shoes. I had a green and a black pair of converse sneakers and I would mismatch them to look cool, I guess. I also had a drawer full of black eyeliner because that was as much as I could do at the time. It's funny how much one picture can trigger so many things. Like, for example... Where did those awesome earrings I was wearing go?