Yesterday, I found myself surprised by how fast time can fly, even when you’re unemployed and, on paper, have nowhere pressing to be. It’s been ages since I last felt genuinely bored. And yet, there’s this voice inside me being a bit hard on myself, wondering if I should have accomplished more by now.
But then it hit me: I don’t even have a list of what those things are!
If I don’t write things down, they don’t really exist for me. When someone asks, “What’s the next place on your travel list?” I freeze. My mental filing cabinet feels jammed, and the answer just won’t come. Funny enough, as I type this, I realize I’ve already written a blog post about having a bucket list. Clearly, it’s been tucked away in the “out of sight, out of mind” drawer.
Today, I’m committing to some mental decluttering. Time to pull out those dusty files, rewrite the lists, and remember what matters to me.
This weekend I finished I Who Have Never Known Men, a speculative novel by Jacqueline Harpman, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
The story begins in a bunker where 40 women are being held under strict surveillance. None of them know how they got there, or where there even is. Among them is a young girl, the only one without any memories of life before captivity. One day, a siren blares, the guards panic, and in their rush, they leave the gate to the women’s cell unlocked. The women escape, but what awaits them is not freedom in any familiar sense – only a vast, barren landscape and the eerie discovery that they may be completely alone in the world. As they wander, they come across more bunkers just like their own – except in those, the occupants never made it out.
Much like The Aosawa Murders, I tore through this book, driven by a need to understand what was going on, only to realize that the mystery itself might be the point. The farther the women travel, the more each discovery destabilizes their hope. Every cabin they find seems to ask: was this escape a blessing, or just a slower death?
One thing that stayed with me most was the girl’s silent, persistent watching of the youngest guard. She stares at him, hoping he’ll acknowledge her – break from the mechanical detachment that defines their captors. He never does. And yet, when the chaos begins, it’s only their cell that’s left unlocked. I can’t stop thinking this wasn’t random. Maybe that young guard left the keys as a final, quiet defiance.
There are no children in any of the other bunkers. No signs of life elsewhere. What if this unlikely connection between two young people, made entirely without words, was the only act of rebellion the system couldn’t predict?
I’m still trying to piece together what this book stirred in me. It’s about survival, yes – but survival stripped of purpose, connection, even memory. What happens when you’re alive, but there’s no one to witness it? No history to return to, no future to build toward?
I keep thinking about the title: I Who Have Never Known Men. It’s not just about absence .. it’s about being untouched by a certain kind of power, desire, violence, maybe even language. Is the girl freer because she’s unmarked by what came before, or more lost because she has no reference point at all? I don’t know yet. But I think Harpman wanted it that way.
The sun rises early and lands on my face. I squint at the clock – 6:30 a.m. Normally I’d groan, but not here. Here, it means it’s time to move. I put on my jogging shorts and shoes and decide if I want to stroll the water or if I have energy for a jog. Mornings are my favorite time for movement here also because the sun feels deadly after 8 a.m.
I head to the water, it’s quiet save for a few folks doing the same as I am, and it’s already hot – I am in heaven.
On my way back I daydream of the first coffee I will have. My mokapot at home never hits the same – how could it? Everything here tastes better. I prepare my coffee but hop in the shower first, a quick rinse as the water is finicky and this won’t be my only shower of the day. I sip my coffee black and rich and welcome the warmth, not that I need any more heat.
Slowly, I pick out a linen or cotton dress, anything else would feel like a sauna. I head to my aunt’s and ask if she wants to grab collazione. We walk to the bar and order cappuccino and croissants. I save the receipt to show friends back home how two cappuccinos and two croissants cost just seven euro. It never ceases to amaze me. The cappuccino is also the way it should be – about five ounces, not a drop more. Afterwards, we head to the beach where we swim in the clear, beautiful water and lay in the sun until it’s time for lunch..
As I won’t be going to Italy this summer I’m reminiscing on the beauty of the land and how much joy I feel when I am there. The heat can be intense but having the sea a few steps away makes it all the more magical.
I had this realization today, it’s not new – and it’s possible I may have written about it before but .. I have this habit of identifying an issue, and then working to correct it. Then, once I do, I stop doing the very actions that helped me – because everything feels fine… until it doesn’t.
For example, maybe it’s meditating. I will do that if I start to realize I am in my head a bit more or stressed, and I start that practice again. Then once I feel happy and healed I disregard the meditation and slowly I end up back where I started. Why do I do this?
This came up recently for me as I am experiencing some neck tightness, similar to how I felt post surgery 2 years ago. My doctor asked if I have been stressed and it seems I’m clenching my jaw a lot and I realized, I have totally let me nightly winddown routine go! Of course that isn’t the cause of my stress, I am sure being jobless is contributing but I’ve let go of the anchor that was helping me through it.
So tonight, I’m going to do one small thing to reconnect with what grounds me – maybe a stretch, maybe a guided meditation, or maybe just silence before bed. I don’t need to overhaul everything, but I do want to remember that these habits aren’t just tools to fix something; they’re part of how I care for myself, always.
I want to catch myself when I start falling into comfort, so I can hold on to the things that keep me steady, not just when things are hard, but always.
It’s been longer than I’d like to admit since I last posted. In April, I was part of a layoff – something I always knew could happen but felt safely out of reach. When it finally did, it left me feeling unmoored, uncertain, and honestly, a little frozen ..
Since then, I’ve been applying to roles, trying to stay curious, and deepening my creativity by working through The Artist’s Way. It’s not always easy – I’ve hit some resistance, which the book says is normal, but that doesn’t make it feel any less frustrating.
One thing that’s helped me reconnect with inspiration is art (thanks to the book). I recently spent an afternoon at the Met, letting myself wander without a plan. There’s something grounding about being surrounded by so much history and creativity.
Here are a few things that touched me:
One thing I keep returning to: if you don’t make a change, life will often do it for you. I know I tend to hesitate when something feels unfamiliar or uncomfortable. Discomfort makes my whole body tense, like when I spot a bug and instantly feel a wave of tingles. It’s irrational, but powerful. Still, I’ve realized the only way to move through that discomfort is to stop avoiding it.
I’m still in the thick of things, but I’m choosing to show up – discomfort, resistance, and all. Maybe this is what growth actually looks like: a little messy, a little scary, but deeply human.
Strangely enough, this unexpected time off has also created space for something I’ve been putting off: getting my Italian citizenship paperwork in order. It’s a process I’ve wanted to tackle for years but always felt too busy to manage. Losing my job gave me the gift of time and urgency – and also an appointment with the consulate!
If you’re going through a season of change, I see you. We don’t always get to choose the timing, but we can choose how we respond.
Five years ago, I celebrated my golden birthday, 30 on the 30th. It was March of 2020. We all know how that went. Oddly, I felt relieved not to have to plan a big celebration.
I had hoped to take a trip to Arizona with friends, but I couldn’t fathom aligning schedules or even figuring out who to include. In the end, I found myself worrying more about other people’s feelings than my own, a common theme for me.
So when the world shut down, I used it as a perfect excuse to avoid worrying about my birthday altogether.
In hindsight, it ended up being a day filled with so much love. Friends sent sweet words, and food was delivered to my door. I felt more loved than I expected, and it reminded me of how many people care about me. I didn’t even have to ask.
Since then, I’ve tried to make birthdays more about me. I’ve learned to focus less on others’ expectations and more on what I really want.
At 32, I traveled to Germany to visit family, and it turned out to be one of my favorite birthdays. My cousin showed me around Berlin, my personal tour guide! We visited her mom who made me a traditional German breakfast and dinner, and then my uncle made homemade pizza. Simple but so special.
At 33, I wanted to go to Paris. Originally, I planned to go solo, but my mom, who’d always wanted to visit, joined me. Looking back, I think she didn’t want me going alone.
Last year, at 34, I struggled. I was caught up in this desire for the “perfect” birthday but didn’t even know what that meant. My friends and I went to New Orleans to celebrate two of our birthdays, so I already felt like I’d celebrated.
Afterwards, I still planned a small night out, though I wasn’t really sure that’s what I wanted.
What I’ve learned is this.
My favorite birthdays have been the ones where I do what I want, without worrying about everyone else’s experience. Or where I am surprised by the kindness and love of the people around me, without feeling like a burden.
All that being said ..
I don’t want to put too much pressure on what turning 35 means.
I do want to be more intentional, both in how I shape this year and the years to come. I love my self-awareness, but sometimes I wonder if it holds me back from being fully authentic.
On one hand, mindfulness has helped me become less reactive and anxious.
But, I also worry that in my efforts to stay grounded, I don’t always let people see all the parts of me. Especially those parts that are fearful.
I want to get better at sharing not for reassurance, but for real connection.
So as I step into 35, I want to focus less on over analyzing and more on doing.
On making choices that align with what excites me, challenges me, and brings me joy.
Some of those things are small shifts in my routine, and others are dreams I’ve carried for years.
But first, a reminder of all I’ve already done:
Traveled solo to Arizona
Ran a half marathon
Started this blog (!!)
Strengthened my Italian and picked up French along the way
Learned to advocate for myself in work and life
Went to Paris twice
Went to the Louvre and saw the Mona Lisa
Went to a ballet
Canoed into a cave in Belize
Visited Mayan Ruins
Stood at the Berlin Wall
Traveled with my boyfriend for the first time
Posted silly videos on Tiktok
Participated in a 5k Turkey trot on Thanksgiving
This Year
Take Ice Skating lessons
Consistent blog posts
Continue perfecting Italian
Find an organization to support/volunteer
Pick a career enhancing course or certificate program
Life Bucket List
Hike a volcano
Swim in crystal blue oceans
Go on a Safari
Visit Pompeii
Swim with dolphins
Meet an elephant
Create something meaningful
Live in Europe for a period of time
See an Opera
& I expect the list will only continue to grow
If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that life keeps evolving, and so do I.
I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get things right, but maybe it’s less about getting it right and more about just living.
Embracing the things that light me up
Letting go of the things that don’t
Trusting that I’m exactly where I need to be.
So here’s to 35! To less overthinking & more doing.
To more adventure, learning & growth and moments that make me feel incredible joy. That type of belly laugh you only experience in special moments, I’d like some more of that this year.
Figuring things out one thought, book, song, and moment at a time.
I did something today.
I have to admit I am prone to being impulsive. The minute I think of something, I have the urge to see it through right away. If I have a grand idea, I feel an immediate need to act on it. Sometimes this impulsiveness has its downsides, but we’ll save that for another time.
So today, I was thinking about what to call my blog.
This is something I have been tinkering with for over a year. I had no motivation to start aside from a nagging thought in my head. Then I stumbled upon this name.
La femme curiosita
What makes me warm and fuzzy inside is how ridiculous it is. It has that special je ne sais quoi, you know? It doesn’t seem to follow grammar rules, something I do not do when speaking Italian. I felt it made sense for me as I am figuring things out as I go.
I’m not here with all the answers, nor do I have a clear direction for where this will go. But what I do have is a love for discovery, a desire to learn more, and a willingness to explore whatever comes to mind.
The world is full of endless little wonders, and I want to document those moments of curiosity, however small they be.
So join me as I figure it out. I promise there’s no agenda, just a journey of things I’m loving, discovering, and pondering along the way.
La Femme Curiosita 