However, here I am (sono qui), in Italia. I am thoroughly content, lounging on my exquisitely-made bed (thank you, mysterious and oddly erotic cleaning mistress that comes 5 times a week) and listening to the soothing sounds of incapacitated zombies in the office (See Left 4 Dead). To give you readers a brief layout of our apartment complex: 22 people, divide that into 3 persons/room, and a skylit hallway. At the end of the hallway, a "common room," although I've never understood the etymology of that. Maybe because the inhabitants of the complex that share it have a slew of things in common. Which is still an unreliable meaning, because I actually don't have much in common with the people we live with. Anyway.
I bet you're thinking to yourself: "Oh my God! I'm so concerned for my sanity! I fervently believed Jordan was living with four people, not three!? Whatever shall I do?"
Fear no more, gentle denizens of the earth, for I am here to assure you all that yes, I do in fact live with four. Which brings me, conveniently, to my next point of interest. We live in a mansion.
Yep. We do. To quote Gwen Stefani, This shit is Bananas. B-a-n-a-n-a-s. We (being Mr. Jared "Antonio" Nepute, William "Michele" Spinnato, Bryan "Mario" Welnicki and myself, Mr. Jordan "Luigi" Stanley), have a killer hallway, complete with two traditional green-and-wood-shuttered windows. We have two bedrooms (count them...one...two) that both have big 'ol closets and quaint dressers. We have an office that frequently boasts of zombie killings. We have a bathroom. Which I guess is standard. We have a bookshelf. Do the other apartments have this, you ask? No. We got rooms. They got studios. Yeah, bitches.
But you know what? I'm not judging the studios, they have cool features, too. I've actually even saved the best part for last, because I know you've been waiting for the killer end-all. Every single piece of furniture in this beautiful apartment complex on Via Maffia... is from IKEA. How classic. How suave. How daring, NYU.
Besides this shit (ie. our mansion, windows, etc.) being a collection of spelled-out fruit (ie. bananas), Firenze is pretty cool. Cappuccini e espressi can be found on pretty much every block, and they are multiple times better than anything in the states (be jealous, ye olde coffee addicts). It is literally unbelievable to sashay over il fiume arno (The Arno River - the big one you see in pictures of Florence), three minutes away from the front door every morning. I say literally unbelievable and you skeptical Jordan-knowers are thinking "sure, this boy is so best-brownie-ever" (if you don't get the meaning of best-brownie-ever: one who thinks everything is the best, no matter what. Ie. Me), but aha! I have thwarted thee again, nemeses! (is that the plural for nemesis? I hope so) I truly DO mean that walking over that bridge is outrageously breathtaking. I love it, and it's one of the things that makes living here more than worthwhile. Follow all that? Sorry if I confuse, I rant. Mom used to say I go on tangents, and I guess she's definitely right. Still. Score one for Mom!
So this is my life. I came here in order to learn more about myself (insert cliche judgement here) and the stirrings of such have, you'll be happy to learn, begun. We'll see what this actually manifests itself as, but I do promise I'll keep you updated.
I met someone. Whom I believe will be making a trek to le cinque terre with me. E quello e' basta, perche non e' necesario per voi capire niente piu'. Per adesso, ragazzi, ciao. And yes, I really just did do the "I know Italian" thing. Yikes.
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