The Story of a Colourful Backpack

It was the first day of my last year in primary school and for the first time I was allowed to buy a backpack.
Before then I had used some old bags that my mother or my aunt used thirty years before, which I was a little ashamed of in front of all my classmates with their brand new shiny ones.

In the shop, I fell in love with this Invicta backpack at first glance. Multicoloured and bright, and I liked colours and still do. What's wrong with loving colourful things?

The price of the backpack was a little more than I was allowed, but my eyes were shining so much that my mother bought it for me anyway, and I recognise now, twenty years later, that this was indeed a great gesture, in a time when my family sometimes didn't even have money for petrol. 

Full of joy, I showed up at school on the first day of the new year, an important moment! What better way to celebrate than with my new backpack? As soon as I arrived in class, however, I realised that this happiness was very fragile. My backpack was definitely the most colourfulo one and the bunch of children of my class did not welcome the news with the same amount of enthusiasm I had. The backpack was nothing but a new manifestation of my diversity, of that different sensitivity I had, that made me perhaps gentler, more respectful, that made me love dance, that gave me a proper behaviour in every situation and explore the world with creativity. 

For years I had already been nicknamed, depending on the situation: "sissy", "female" (as if being a woman were to be an insult! But you go and explain that to an 8-year-old who's definitely biologically not a girl, and who wonders why people decide to describe him that way), "gay", "frocio", "finocchio", "checca", "ricchione", all of these being pejorative nicknames to define homosexuals. 

Italians get very creative when it comes to insulting gays. 

If you think about it, the Eskimos have so many words to describe the snow, we just as many for the gays. I wonder why.

And just another linguistic note. Did you know that in English the word "bad" derives etymologically from a word used in the past to define homosexuals? Homophobia has been so strong that over the years the word has gone on from just insulting gays to define all evil in general. Ask me why we need a gay pride again. 

This is to say how much our language also represents the voice of a culture that really doesn't spare any efforts to discriminate against minorities. 

But anyway, back to the bag. 

My joy for the new colourful purchase, which I was so happy to wear when I was going to school in the morning, immediately turned into an internal grey, a desire to sink, to disappear, to hide my bang and myself with it, to be transparent. It began with a black marker with which I tried to cover all the colours on the backpack and ended up with slowly ceasing to use the bag to go to school or anything else. I went back to using the old ones that I hated so much, but not so much as myself and that feeling of being different and not welcomed by those who were not like me. The bag stayed at home, in a closet.

The following year, the first of the middle school, I bought a new backpack. Blue. All blue. A colour that I didn't like and still don't like. All that coldness. I have always been green, orange and purple. The blandness of blue was not for me. 

Still, I bought that backpack. What could be more masculine than blue, no drawings or doodles, no chance of being identified among the crowd. I've always hated that backpack, it wasn't me, it didn't represent me. What it represented instead was my attempt to swallow who I really was. 

Many years of lies followed. Lies I was telling myself and others. I stopped watching some movies or listening to certain genres of music for fear of being judged, I decided that being a dancer wasn't the right thing for me and I created a barrier between me and any other form of art, including music. Until the end of high school, I did everything to conform to the norm, even though I don't think I ever really succeeded. 

All this hidden chaos could not remain locked up forever, though. When I reached the bottom, I started a long journey backwards. 

I am grateful for the fact that my family has always been open and allowed me to express these hidden identities without too many hiccups and that my life choices let me approach new people around me. More and more people who were able to accept the differences, who were open to dialogue and capable of exchanging ideas and welcoming new ones, rather than judging. 

I began the rediscovery of what I really was, of all my colours. 

A process which has of course implied a lot of pain. All the layers of hidden emotions and unspoken words, erected as a fortress to protect me. It took time and a lot of work to get rid of them, and I haven't finished yet.

Then, a couple of years ago I found my multicoloured backpack in the recesses of my home in Italy and I thought fuck it. I took it out, dusted it and put it back on my shoulders. 

Obviously, people continue to make comments, and some keep pointing the finger when they see all those colours on me.
Certainly it is not the typical backpack that a thirty year old would use to get around every day. Maybe it's not enough "adult" enough. 

But I think that adulthood can't be proven with what you wear. You can tie a millions of ties around your neck and remain deeply immature a few inches above, in your brain. 

I think that instead, adulthood can be proven by the fact that I can finally wear what I fucking want and not let myself be affected by the judgment of people who don't accept diversity, and that I can be who I really am and show it without fear of not being what people expect of me. 

This is what I've learned through all these years, and this is what the world should have told little Valerio on that first day at school with the new bag: "Don't worry about what they say. They are just scared of being different. But they are all different, we are all different. Some, however, decide to be like the others for fear of being exposed and vulnerable. But you can be whatever you want, and if they don't accept it right away, you can choose to be strong and confident, with your ideas and feelings, walk forward, chin up. You'll see, slowly they will begin to understand that there is nothing to be afraid of. Show them. It's the only way you can live your life as you really want it, and it's the only way new ways of being and thinking can be spread, respected and accepted." 

I have learnt that. It took about twenty years, and I still have a lot to learn, but now here I am, traveling around the world with my colours on my back.

Now, inside my colourful bag, I decide to put whatever I want. :-)

Resolutions?

It's that time of the year again. Every January I sit with my diary, pen in hand, and write a list of goals for the year.
This time I still haven't compiled the list. I feel that in this particular moment of my life the main thing I want is to find my own happiness, regardless of what I'm doing professionally or sentimentally or physically. Material goals are always good to keep you moving, that goes without saying, but I probably need to pause those for a moment in order to avoid becoming one of those unhappy little people.
So I think the only item on the list for now will be to be more honest with myself and others, being more vocal about my needs and not scared of showing who I am. And this will probably help me figure out what other material goals I want to have. :-)
What are your resolutions for this year? Let's talk about it!

--

In other news, I'm making made a little Spotify playlist with new music that flies to my ears every now and then. Listen here if you need some fresh music and let me know what new songs you have in your head lately. :)

Hope you have an amazing year, you deserve it, just like everyone else in the world. A whole year full of learning and winning and smiling :-)

Hugs,

Valerio x

Let's Talk About It?

The idea for my most successful song to date was born during a therapy session.

pic by Karl Mowbray

Some years ago I was having a very extenuating fight against my inner self, experiencing OCD, anxiety and paranoia every day. For three long years anxiety was the only emotion I could feel. Having to go back home when I was out with friends to check all my documents were in place, not being able to enjoy a movie because a constant thought would get fixed in my mind, washing my hands 100 times a day because I could get sick from using my own toilet (let's not talk about public toilets), thinking I could be framed for crimes I hadn't committed, being scared I could die for one reason or another. Just to name a few. That was my every day life. I felt like my life would have been a long path made of catastrophic thinking, floating among the worst possible future occurrences, never present in the here and now, always detached from my own self and the present moment, my head full of unnecessary negative, destructive thoughts. At the time I thought that it would never go away.

But luckily I was brave enough to seek help. I was lucky (after a couple of not-so-great experiences) to find a talented psychotherapist that understood what I needed and with whom I worked together to strengthen my structure and individuality and to make my anxious self a friend, rather than an enemy.
My therapy lasted three years, before I moved to London and I had to stop it, although sometimes I still meet my therapist when I go back home, like a regular check-up to see how things are going. And this is just because mental health should be treated exactly like physical health. When you get a cold, you most likely get paracetamol, if your back aches you go see a physician, if your throat is inflamed you go see an otolaryngologist. If the pain is in your head, what do you do?
Because of the stigma that still surrounds mental illness, some people might still feel ashamed to share the fact that they see a therapist, or might not get into therapy in the first place.
But if we pretend it's not there, it's not going to go away. Accepting that we suffer from any mental illness is the first step to a happier life. And mental illness doesn't necessary mean being a psychopath killer. It could just mean that something just doesn't feel right. Just as when something doesn't feel right in your body and you go see a doctor, why not seeing a therapist or a counsellor when something doesn't feel right in your mind? It could be nothing, or it could be something, better work on it sooner rather than later in any case.

In my own experience, getting into therapy really helped me re-structuring myself and it gave me the support I needed to get out of that dim world I had created in my mind and not only that. In the long run, I also realise that what I learned about myself and the world around me during my sessions with my therapist not only made me healthier, but also allowed me to become more structured and aware. It made me a braver, lighter, brighter, happier, clever person.
It was exactly during one of these sessions that the idea of my song Cotton came out.
One of my mental issues was that I was very rigid with myself and I didn't allow me mental flexibility. My fear of not being enough, the shame of not being beautiful, clever, talented, strong enough had resulted in a very strong control issue, over other people and situations but also, and especially, over my own identity. Working with my therapist I learned that I could be more flexible, just like a cotton thread that, flexibly, changes its shape without changing its own essence. You probably know how the rest of the song goes.
But anyways, in addition to being a very useful inspiration for songwriting, my therapy (in my specific case it was a cognitive-behavioural approach) was definitely one of the best life choices I've taken. It was probably thanks to the human skills I acquired during my therapeutic journey that I grabbed my life back in my hands and decided to follow my career as a musician, then move to London, build a new life from scratch, create a whole new circle of friendships, restore relationships with old friends or relatives, re-define what I want and what I want to be, achieve career and life goals and ultimately live my life without being afraid of being joyful.

So actually, whether something is not ok in your mind or not, therapy is a very useful tool to gain skills that will help you have a better life in which you can be more centred, solid, structured, strong and happy.

And if you don't feel like going to therapy yet, maybe opening up to a friend could be the first step on this healing path. Keeping your griefs inside is not going to make them go away. There is always someone out there willing to listen to you, and sometimes giving words to feelings helps making them smaller and lighter to carry.

Non-mental hugs. :-)

Indian Summers

Congrats to India for deciding that loving someone is not a crime!


And people still ask why we need a Gay Pride...


Knowing that in some other places of the planet people are jailed, beaten up or killed because of the people they love doesn't really make me feel accepted and at ease.
Being unable to tell my grandmother about someone I like or a boyfriend I have is not the greatest feeling in the world.
Spending your childhood asking yourself why everyone is so different from you is not the most gratifying.


So yes, we still need a Gay Pride to remind ourselves that we are not worse and no, you don't need a Straight Pride because nowhere in the world it's illegal to love a man if you're a woman or a woman in you're a man.
If you’re straight, nowhere in the world you will be judged for holding hands.
If you’re straight, nowhere in the world you will be told that it’s against nature to follow your nature.


We are very lucky to live in a place where people who don’t correspond to the stereotypes given by the norm can express themselves freely and although people may still judge sometimes, at least it’s not unlawful to kiss a lover, to show someone you love.
I have never been beaten up or not allowed to do something or go somewhere because of my sexual preferences, but that is still not enough, because the world around me made me feel I wasn’t quite the right thing anyway. I’ve fought the bloodiest inner battles and I have learnt to understand that being honest with myself and the world outside is the right thing to do, being myself is the right thing.


It’s been hard and it’s still hard but steps are being made forward luckily. Many countries are celebrating lgbt weddings, some others have allowed same sex partnership, some others are finally realising that the person you sleep with is none of their business and (at least) they don’t punish you for your kind of love (finally).
Not everywhere, not yet. But it’s getting better, and today is definitely a day to celebrate.



So cheers to India and to all the people who actively make this world better, and to all the people who are enlightened enough to change their own mind and let the light come in!

Birthdays

On my birthdays I always wake up feeling somewhat nostalgic and dim. It might be the social pressure of having to make it a special day, having to celebrate, or that I don't particularly cherish the fact of organising parties for myself. It might be the realisation of time passing. Or it might be that my birthday is, for me, a time to sum up wishes and achievements and see where I'm at, and this always turns into a very depressing and dramatic inner dialogue, which is not the lightest way to approach a day of celebrations.

Despite all this, I also usually take the occasion to look at who I am (not only what I have or have done) and I usually realise that I am quite happy and satisfied with the person I am. I might not be where I'd like to in terms of geography, career, sentimental relationships, wealth, or whatever, but I am quite proud of the person I've become so far (there's obviously still a lot of space for growth, and I'm happily learning progressively each day!).

Most of all, I am most grateful to all the people and situations that have led me here, being them "positive" or "negative".
Every year on 9th June I thank my mother for bearing me in her body and delivering me to this world of light, for fighting against gravity and feeding me and teaching me things and scolding me and being absent and being present and loving me no matter what and making me doubt she does and confirming she does and being strong for me and being strong for herself and being weak for herself, for helping me and needing help, for being near and being far.
I thank my mother's mother and all the people with some bits of my blood in their blood and I thank everyone I've exchanged words with, everyone I've exchanged warmth with (being it literal or abstract).
I am grateful for the people who've said happy birthday, the ones that frowned at me, the ones that congratulated me, the ones that envied me, that ones I envied, the ones that loved me and hated me, the ones I've loved and hated, the ones that smiled at me crossing my path and then left without knowing my name.
Each little bit made me what I am, and I have joyfully received them and collected them, trying to make the best of them, trying to become a better person each day.

I love my life, I love this sun (sometimes visible, sometimes not, it's always there!), I love this earth, I love this time, I love myself and all of you and them.

A very merry unbirthday to you! :)

Sing With Pride

People are still being beaten up, people are still being shouted at, people are still being discriminated, people are still being taken to concentration camps, people are still being killed.

We still need a Pride, we still need to shout our pride, we still need to show the world we are just like everyone else, we still need to fight to feel equal, we still need to fight to get an equal treatment.

That's why we still march, that's why still sing, that's why we still fight.

--

And that's why I was part of Digital Pride this week, to tell the world that my sexuality doesn't make me a lesser human being. I'm just like everyone else, I love like everyone else, I should be loved like everyone else.

Thank you Gay Star News for making this possible. <3

Joy Love Authenticity

Hey,

It was an amazing year here.

It was the one in which I realised my life is one (for now?) and that I should and can and want to live it the way I feel.

To start, I had to stop thinking that I had to live abiding to the thought of keeping up with my past self, build my decisions on who I had been, on financial security, on what people expect you to do. 

If you're doing a job you don't like only because you've always done it and because you need to earn/save more money, or because people or yourself think you should do it, that's not a good start on the path to happiness.

If you're sitting at your thousands-of-pounds-making office chair but you're unhappy, who knows if you're happiness could instead be found washing mugs in a coffee shop? 

We are pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. If we sit in the wrong place, the whole puzzle will be affected. The right piece won't be able to get in the right place. We will be unhappy and the other pieces will be. So if you don't fit where you are, change your place. Do it for yourself and for the right piece and for the rest of the world.

Sometimes we think we do what we like but we don't really. Sometimes we know we do what we don't like but we do it nonetheless, lying to ourselves saying that that's the only way. But there are sooooo many ways! You will have to compromise, you will have to skip that trip to Paris you were thinking of doing, you might have to drink less beer to put your money in the pocket and buy tomorrow's lunch, you might have to eat out three times less per month. But if in the rest of your time you are actually walking towards your dream and actively working to achieve it, you will be happy just because of that.

I swear it's true. Because this is what I did in my 2016. Quitting my full time job, without the security of finding something else but with the passion driving my mind. 

In times of need, your mind works cleverly. And if passion propels your thinking, your dream will be closer each day.

2016 was the first year of my life in which I have fully followed what I love and the rewards have been coming week by week. I have achieved goals I had tried to achieve for years, I have surrounded myself with likeminded people who have made me grow a great deal, I do every day what I mostly love.

It's not about luck. It's about how much you want it, how much you are ready to work your ass of for it. But it happens. Happiness happens. Success happens. Love happens. It happens together with struggle, but that's part of the game. A beautiful, exciting game.

I've tried to live each moment fully, to remember the past with wisdom and look at the future with hope.

But the present was (is) my main attention. 

I've looked every day at the best things of the past 24 hours. I kept a list in a notebook. And every day I have found something to smile at.

Try in your 2017. And if you don't find anything in one particular day, look closer. Because there is. Opening your eyes and seeing colours is such a beautiful thing to start with and that happens every day. Imagine how many joyful things we overlook and give for granted. A great way to feel happier, is to accept that we actually have all we need. Happiness happens in every moment but we don't even notice. 

It was a year full of struggles and choices and daunting moments, but I've fought to achieve my goals and ultimately happiness and I can say that I might not be where I'd like to be yet, but I'm happy nonetheless.

It all boils down to living your present with joy, love and authenticity. 

Do the things that give you joy, be around people you love, be yourself completely.

It is that simple :)

-

Thank you for having been part of me this year, I hope you'll be here in 2017 too, and I wish you happiness in any condition you will find yourself in.

Love,

Valerio

Born This Way

I love my life because I'm free to be what I am, and one aspect of my whole as a human and my persona is being homosexual.

I'm lucky, because I can be this, say this, live this.

It's not always been like that. I've suffered, hidden, been ashamed. Because people made me think I was a freak, an unnatural being, a mistake, wrong.
It's been a frustrating and hurtful path but I'm able now to be proud of what I am.

And I'm lucky, because I can be this, say this, live this.

But nobody is as lucky.

So please, stop being assholes.

‪#‎IDAHOBiT‬ (17th May is the International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia)

Celebrate, Cherish, Bless, Try, Deserve, Be Yourself, Be Happy

I've been through change and development and sadness and joy and excitement and tiredness and despair and hope and saudade and depletion and inadequacy and abundance this year.

Just like everyone else.

Walked on cobblestones and soil and grass and concrete and bridges and towers. 

Set my feet on mattresses and pedals and altars and staircases and rainwater and planes and trains.

I've been confident and I've doubted in myself.

Just like everyone else.

I've learnt new words, of which my favourite ones are aghast, bereft, dalliance, shoal, forsake, repentance, cease, dregs, poised, sleet, fickle.

I've followed new styles and discovered new parts of the world and of me with them. 

I've completed and made resolutions.

A year in which I've (re)built my foundations.

It's all set now.

A proper list of resolutions is not ready yet, but it's going to be soon.

2014 has left me listening to this, throwing myself into the new year with a continuous line. I don't feel the ridges between the borders of December and January. I'm just the same person I was yesterday. (Or am I not? Are we really the same person we were yesterday? The person who we were yesterday hadn't lived today. We have. So are we still the same person?)

There is no cliff dividing 23.59 from 00.00, so I keep following my wake, impelled by the beautiful things I knew in this segment of time that we divided in 365 days of 24 hours.

And by beautiful I mean each and every thing I have lived.

Including these songs, soundtracking my life in the last months, that I invite you to listen to if you haven't already:

These two books I've read:
Through the Language Glass,  Guy Deutscher, about the alleged different way people think depending on their language (or do they not?);
and Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, Jonathan Safran Foer, captivating novel about a special kid investigating about his father's secret after his death, just beautiful.

These two movies I've loved:

Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho,


Kill Your Darlings

And these two poems I've loved, the latter I've just met and it's going to be my motto for this wonderful year that is here and shiny and malleable:

A Fragment, George Gordon Byron

When, to their airy hall, my father’s voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, poised upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountains side;
Oh! may my shade behold no sculptured urns,
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!
No lengthen’d scroll, no praise-encumber’d stone;
My epitaph shall be my name alone:
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!
That, only that, shall single out the spot;
By that remember’d, or with that forgot.

Footnote to Howl, Allen Ginsberg

Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and hand and asshole holy!
Everything is holy! everybody’s holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman’s an angel!
The bum’s as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cassady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace peyote pipes & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the middleclass! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebellion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucinations holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul!

This is to remember and celebrate the ashes of this 2014, a year that gave me a lot but I want more, and to cherish this bliss that time has given me, I bless the holiness that surrounds me, I'm ready to knead this year, and with it I'll be the form I really am. I'll get the best I can from it, trying to deserve it, and you try to do it too.

Happy holy new year my fellows of the world!

:)