I'm reading "The Monday always comes on Sunday afternoon," Massimo Lolli . At one point the protagonist, watching television, sums up a scene from the film "The Way We Were" by Sidney Pollack , with Barbra Streisand and Robert Redford (the list is endless that never run out of movies that I see) . Two students at the college and she is an intellectual, politically engaged, who cultivates his dream of becoming a writer, and he, a simpleton that has no interest in other sports outside. One day both have to submit a story to a professor. She spends the nights there, working for weeks: file, system, rewrites. But the day on which the best tale is that of Robert, spontaneous, fresh, and is read in front of everyone, with plenty of him and adds to her frustration, Barbra crying out, and throws his story in the trash. I never believed in the talent and I believe in angles. Someone said that the real genius is how to realize their aspiration to work (inspiration, perspiration, etc.). is true (maybe), but this equation is missing a key factor: spontaneity. The hardest thing is not working on themselves, but able to maintain its authenticity without burying it under a job, apprenticeship, which is often hard and frustrating. Work on themselves without being distorted, is therefore also remain humble. Why this effort can also become a form of self-exaltation: the intellectual when it begins to take itself too seriously, you mount the head, is exalted. And you lose.
An effort to cause psychological suffering, so it will be a cold sweat, it is unnecessary and harmful. Serve a healthy fatigue, which gives the time of the act itself the consciousness of a job well done, good, solid as a chair built by a craftsman. A good effort .
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