Soft Humanity

be ok

2010-09-27T17:21:00.003+01:00

everyone who knows me is well aware that i used to have a really hard time making friends when i was younger. fortunately i always had someone on my side that i could talk to and hang around with so i wouldn't feel alone, for most of my life it was always her.
it used to be so awful for me to talk to people or even to be aware that i was in a social position where people might talk to me out of the blue and i'd have to come up with something witty to say. i never really trusted myself, i never thought that people would actually and spontaneously want to be my friends. i didn't believe that anyone who had a choice to be anyone else's friend would prefer to be mine instead, and for a very long time no experience had proven this wrong.
when i was about to get into high school though there was a changing experience in my life - i became aware, mostly by talking to people on the internet, where if you don't hit it off with one, then you just never see or talk to them again, that i was actually a bit witty and that some people wanted to be around me just because they enjoyed it.
that was astounding but i got used to it. i didn't become conceited enough that i felt comfortable in all social situations, but within reason i was ok with meeting new people and making new friends, because of that newfound awareness that there were people around who'd want to be my friends, and i had to try and find them. who cared if i failed once or twice, i'd get it right eventually.
high school was great in that sense - in the way in which i met a lot of new people and, by feeling included, i made many of them feel included too. i like to think, sometimes when i'm feeling down, that i may have improved some people's lives by bringing them into mine and by letting myself into theirs.
and i kind of brought that into college with me - the idea that if i talked to people and if i tried to make them feel comfortable around me, that some of them wouldn't mind talking to me and some would actually enjoy my company, and that's how you begin to make friends. so from day one i wasn't scared of people like i had been when i was a little girl and i just introduced myself, started chatting, trying to find the people who would get along with me.
but shit, i've been striking out so badly. i mean i have a fairly high self esteem but when you see everybody else teaming up and you left alone, no matter how hard you try to be included into their groups; when you start to realise that you don't have anything in common with the people who surround you; when you get turned down even by those who are alone, just for trying to start a conversation, just so those ten minutes won't be so lonely - i mean when that starts to happen you start to feel a bit unhappy.
you start to wonder if there's something wrong with you, again. and once you ask yourself that there's no going back to before, it kind of hits you in the stomach and... shit man.
when i got home i looked in the mirror just to check whether there was anything written on my forehead about my hating mankind or whatever.
and i do think all those things that they tell you to think in these situations, you know, if they don't like me then i don't like them either, i don't need these kind of relationships, if i don't make friends today i'll make them tomorrow.
thing is, it's not just a week that i'm here, and i can't help but feel overwhelmed and like my behaviour now is going to affect the next few years. i know that i'll find friends eventually like i have so many times in my life, i can join clubs, i can go out to cafés and to the library, to places where my kindred spirits usually are, and i don't have to be friends with the people in my class. i wasn't really looking for friends though, maybe just for someone to share my space with, someone to share some words with, someone to not be alone with. i needn't be their everything, i already have people that i matter to, and there will be more. but i wish i didn't have to feel like this. i wish these first few weeks, months, whatever, wouldn't have to be so hard. i wish i didn't miss my family so much and i wish that my friends from back home were here.
but i know that all of this is going to pass. that the people in my class will eventually know my name and they'll be ok with having me sit near them or whatever. and i know that other people will become my friends, that there will be unexpected things that will happen, and that no matter what happens here, people love me in other places. people think about me in distant places and i think about them, even when we're apart. it's hard to find friends like those and i did.
so really, it's just a rough patch, just another thing that's hard while it's happening, especially when you're already angling towards feeling sad, but once it's passed, it looks like nothing.
it's passing through me now so i'm going to feel sad, there's just no other way. but once it's gone all the way through, i'll be ok again.
so i'm just letting it pass.

my imaginary friend rashid 3

2010-08-06T01:17:00.004+01:00

- i feel awful.
- what, again? - rashid asked impatiently.
- i...
- you, really, you just annoy me sometimes. - he looked at me like he didn't know who i was, like i had insulted him somehow with what i had said.
- i'm sorry, i just, i don't feel so good.
- do you ever take the time to think why you feel awful? are you that self-centred that you can't think of anything else but the way that you feel?
- i don't think i'm self-centred. - i didn't expect that reaction from him, who was usually so patient and sympathetic. - i just, i don't control the way i feel. rationally i know it's stupid for me to feel so anxious and so awkward all the time. for me to overanalyse every situation. for me to stay up at night shuffling through my thoughts to find some that don't bother me. but it just happens. sometimes i don't feel that way, sometimes i do, it rarely depends on what happens to me or on what i do.
- you must be some special kind of idiot - he said. i was a bit hurt. then he sort of smiled and looked at me again. - you have everything.
- i know. i know. i have love. i have a home. i have a mind of my own and the freedom to use it. i'm the luckiest person i know. i don't know one person with more reason to be happy than me.
- then why aren't you the happiest person you know? - rashid asked. he looked genuinely curious, like i was a specimen he wanted to study. - you're so lucky.
- i don't know - i said. - the people that i see that are happier than me, they don't have as much to be happy about. they're just simpler people. they don't make everything complicated. they don't worry about every social contact and slight responsibility. they don't overjudge themselves or other people. they don't develop rigid expectations and they aren't as disappointed when they're not met.
- you should have those people as your example - rashid advised. - even with less than you have they enjoy their lives. they enjoy their friends and families and sunny days.
i stopped for a moment. i didn't know what to say.
- i think - i finally said after a while thinking. - i think i rely on being miserable sometimes. i think my hole life i've been digging holes, getting inside them and then crawling back out again. i think i need to be unhappy somehow, i think that's my problem.
- well, i think - rashid cut me off - that you need to stop thinking so much about yourself. no-one else cares that much about you. they don't. they're not supposed to. and neither are you.
- i guess i've always told myself that if i'm not making anyone unhappy, that if the people around me aren't hurt by my existance, that if i do my best to make everyone else feel better, that it's ok, that it doesn't matter how i feel.
- it doesn't. once you stop caring about that, you'll feel better. once you start caring more about everybody else.
- are you sure?
- no.
- it won't do any harm to try though.
- i guess not.
- i hope not - i whispered.
he put his hand on my shoulder.
- just don't cry any more - he asked. - you'll wear yourself dry.

my imaginary friend rashid 2

2010-07-24T21:49:00.002+01:00

- it's insane to try to make something of yourself - said rashid, after a long silence.
i didn't say anything because i didn't understand.
- that came out wrong - he added after a little while. - i meant, it's insane to believe that you're only going to be who you want to be if you're who you want to be.
i still didn't understand so i kept quiet, because i knew that rashid always explains when he can see i don't follow.
- many people, they convince themselves early on that they have to be a celebrity singer or a neurologist or a famous actor - he exemplified - and then they live their lives disappointed when they become dentists and shop owners.
- so? - i finally asked. - facts of life.
- well me i never thought that way. i've wanted to be things before but never in a way that if i didn't become that, i'd feel unaccomplished. my life would be grand just the same if i was something else.
- i've always aspired - i whispered - to be gloriously happy.
- don't we all.
- i don't think everyone aspires to be happy - i confessed. - i think a lot of people secretely desire drama, war, perils to overcome and long dark nights to cry over. me, i think i could be happy with a life that was just full of the kind of happiness you feel in warm afternoons in the fall, when the living room is full of a yellow-orange sunshine and you have a book and your love.
- well, if you put it that way, then most people don't aspire to be happy.
- i'm very proud that i can adapt to my fantasies and aspirations as they change - i said. - that's why i'm so happy. when i look back at the roads i could have followed but didn't, i don't feel sad. i guess i know that i could have been a chemist or an architect and that now i won't get the chance, but that doesn't cause me any pain. and whatever i become in the future, i'll be happy as long as i get to be myself, as long as i have a creative home and a loving heart.
- that's the only thing that matters - rashid agreed. - a loving home and a creative heart.
- however you put it - i said. - however you put it, those are the things that matter.

my imaginary friend rashid 1

2010-07-24T21:09:00.002+01:00

- sometimes (most of the time) - i told rashid - i get the very specific feeling that i'm on a steady downward slope of losing all of my talents and ambitions.
- that's normal - he said - when i was young i could spit really far away and do a lot of acrobatic stunts and now i don't even spit at all because i think it's gross and i can barely control my body enough to hold on to the majority of objects.
- it's not really that simple though - i answered, after considering what he had said - i think most people improve throughout their lives rather than deteriorate. i think they find better things in themselves, ethically, practically and intelectually. me i think i'm getting worse at everything.
- i doubt that.
- well you don't even know me. i haven't even gotten better at being a good person which i thought was my talent. i'm getting progressively worse at loving and forgiving people. sometimes i feel this kind of hatred that i thought i'd never feel for people that i'm not supposed to hate.
- like your parents?
- well, not my parents, but my friends sometimes.
- that's awful.
- i know.
rashid seemed to ponder what i'd said, i looked at his face and maybe he was wondering if i had ever hated him at all.
- it might be your age.
- how do you mean.
- well do you ever hear how teenagers are these horrible beings made of dirty emotions?
- yes.
- i know a lot of teenagers, especially myself, and i've come to believe it's true.
- i wish i could think that - i consented - that the way that i feel, angry and bitter, sometimes, could be my age. but aren't we supposed to be golden now? to be full of love and adventure? i think all i do is make wrong decisions, even when i'm desperately trying to do right.
again rashid thought deeply about what i meant, while he looked at the sun over the ocean. then he said:
- what i think - he said - is that we're always going to regret everything we do. i think even the right decisions we're going to regret because there were others we could have made that would have been better. i think we're never going to do right by anyone, especially not by ourselves.
- i think i'm scared - i said - i think i'm terrified all the time, of everything.
- that's awful.
- i know.
- no, i mean, that's terrible. that's really awful.
- i know.
- you shouldn't feel that way.
i paused.
- i know.
- i think my biggest fear - he said - is that i'll lose the people i love. so i'm always scared like that. i'm always making sure that everyone is wearing a seat belt in the car. sometimes (most of the time) i sit and i look like i'm thinking about something important but i'm actually wondering if everyone is ok.
- i do that too. i know you feel bad but it's best just to keep distracted.
we both were quiet for a little while and then he said:
- sometimes what i really think about - he closed his eyes for a second - is that it doesn't really matter how you or i feel you know? we can feel whatever we want because it's so insignificant if we feel happy or sad or nervous or afraid in this world. as long as the people around us are happy and we are not doing anything to hurt their situation, why bother with anything else?
- you're right - i agreed.
the sun set over the ocean and we both went home.

PLEASE

2010-04-27T22:18:00.002+01:00

I MIGHT HAVE, FINALLY
FOUND SOMETHING
THAT I REALLY DO FEEL.

i might have finally found something that i really do feel.
something that is true in myself
something that is true in myself
something that has always existed in me and suddenly awoke and it's biting at me in this painful delicious way
something i've been looking for all this time and always thinking i already had it
something i've got aching in my chest begging me to break out of my skin and just burst into beautiful winged flames.

i can't lose it now.
so please hold on.

só quer a vida cheia quem teve a vida parada

2010-04-25T12:04:00.003+01:00

i hate reading through my e-mail folders because most of my e-mails are so sad.
it's like i've hidden the feelings i felt when i wrote them or got them inside them and by reading them i'm unleashing them back into myself and i feel miserable about something that happened 2 or 3 or 4 years ago that i was telling AJ about some morning.

but that's over, so over that AJ is going to war and i hardly remember what i was going on about and why it was so important to me, when now AJ is going to war and no-one cares what i felt then, especially not him. either way i read those words with a bunch of spelling mistakes that i wrote back in 8th grade and they make me feel so sad that at that point in my life i felt so sad.

i guess i've been nostalgic a bit over a bunch of things, maybe it's ending high school this year that makes me look back on what i've been doing and overall i'd say it's been good things - i made a bunch of new friends over the course of the past three years but then, when i rethink it, i realise that i haven't done a very good job at keeping most of the old ones close.

when i think about it it's about what i've accomplished or not, not what's on paper. on paper i've got all of my dumb writings that i'm so fucking proud of the instant i write them and two weeks later i want to toss them out the window, which is i why i can't write anything that takes longer than three or four days to get done with. on paper i've got a bunch of certificates saying i can speak and write proper english that i paid a buttload of money to show i deserved - why did i do that though?

so i've been nostalgic, about shurtugal i guess, how excited i was about life back then, about everything that was coming up and all the friends i'd managed to harvest from across the globe - the most morbid part of me says that half of them could have died in a schoolbus accident with a crocodile and i still wouldn't have found out about it, no matter how close i thought we were back then and how much we shared. in the end our relationship existed briefly and thinly across that veil of time way back when i sat at my pc in the summer and wondered what it'd be like to just walk out the door and talk to someone i'd never met before out of the blue and meet the love of my life.

that's not how things go for most people though, and they didn't go like that for me because i'd go out with my book and my satchel and i sat in the grass at the park wondering about the boys and girls surrounding me and whether we'd start talking and find beautiful amazing things to share, but i never found the guts to actually walk up to them, story of my life though.

i pretend i'm so corageous and i can talk to anyone anytime but the truth is i'm terrified half the time when i do things, the rest of the time i'm asleep.

nonetheless i know i've had my beautiful moments, i've kissed the boy of my dreams in the rain and i've ran splashing into the ocean and i've rolled around in snow and i've almost suffocated from laughing a bunch of times with some spectacular friendships.

really it's about moments you've accomplished, not what comes before or after that because in the future you aren't going to remember the intervals, sad or happy, that come between the more striking parts. or you probably aren't going to.

so i'll just wear my high-heeled shoes for dancing in the streets, the pain that comes later on my heels i can handle because no-one will ever take those instants of freedom from me.

the blue mosque

2010-04-11T23:22:00.002+01:00

i'd say one of the truest experiences i've ever felt in my life was inside the blue mosque while i was in istanbul.
i know many of my travel mates didn't understand why i did what i did and i'm happy that most of them didn't see it at all, but it was out of my hands, what happened in the mosque.
i felt so pure, like i had been thrown so deep into other people's prayers and hopes and dreams that i would never be pulled out.
he understood it, never asked a question, we never even talked about it, because we never needed to - i know that he knew exactly what i was feeling and that it was a good, beautiful thing that happened in there.
it really was.

G.O.D.

2010-04-01T13:19:00.003+01:00

mia couto's grandfather famously said "thinking about god is like holding an egg -- hold it too tight and it'll break, but don't hang on tight enough and it'll fall."

i guess that's true, which might be why i just avoid thinking about god altogether. those kinds of things - religion, relationships, blahblahblah - i guess they never made much sense to me to make philosophy around. that kind of thing seems to me... i mean to me anyone who can think long and hard about something and still believe in it no matter how many people throw stuff at them to make them stop believing it - to me that's a miracle. the fact that someone can just believe in something, no matter what, that's a miracle. and if it makes them happy to believe in that, and if they don't hurt anyone by believing in it, then that's all for the better.

i just can't though.
maybe i'd be happier if i could - no, i'm sure i'd be happier if i could believe in something similar to god or karma or ressurrection or the eternity of the soul, but i can't, and, well, i don't think i'm hurting anyone by not believing.
so i'm in my right too, i guess.

Retro Vampires

2010-04-01T13:01:00.004+01:00

So my question is, why doesn't anyone give Buffy the Vampire Slayer any credit any more?
I remember back in the nineties people used to love the thing and lately there's just so much contempt towards it it's ridiculous!

I mean sure, the name's VERY unfortunate and the latest seasons have been terrible, that's true, but go over some of the season 1 and 2 episodes and they're FABULOUS. There's so much there: the comedy, the crummy special effects, the acting. I think these days people are a bit too self-righteous to actually enjoy something like that but guess what: I'm not.
I'm going back to Buffy.
Retro style.

suck.

2009-12-22T13:24:00.002Z

things that i like:
receiving mail
christmas
warm gloves
pretty shoes

things that i don't like:
writing letters
christmas
cold hands
uncomfortable shoes

at best

2009-12-03T18:23:00.003Z

you know, so at best we're like these tiny fractions of people, you know, walking… i mean, is that why we're so scattered?
- ethan hawke

here's to them

2009-12-03T18:10:00.003Z

a letter to absent friends:

i hope these words find you well. i'm alright.

i must have some sort of secret talent related to forgetting what i was going to write about the second i flip on my computer.

so i got through to the second stage at a coca-cola writing competition, now it's up for votes online. i'll translate it sometimes, if it works, so you guys can read it if you like. (speaking of writing, i know you have stuff to e-mail me, so do it, do it, do it, i'll read it like, next week xD)

things have been ok, i've been drawing pink hearts on 60% of my possessions for reasons unexplained. i picked up "the great gatsby" at the library and the translation is absolutely hideous, i really can't stand it. i also picked up "to have and have not" which is far more bearable, let me know your interpretation tips if you've read it.

i got "the catcher in the rye" on pdf at soph's insistence and i've been reading it bit by bit when i have free time on the pc, which isn't very frequent. it's in english so no translation issues, i think the writing is absolutely brilliant (my msn contacts know it from being hit with random salinger quotes copied off the pdf while i'm reading).

artswise, i'm halfway through a 10-page comic of "your ex-lover is dead", it may or may not come up here or at guarda-chuva when i'm done, but i'll give you a heads up.

christmas is coming up, a flickering reminder that you still have a lot of friends and family to pay attention to even after two months of getting completely absorbed by schoolwork.

in other news, i miss talking to my transatlantic online friends, so here's a heads up to rebecca, lupe, soph and michael, who i occasionally see on facebook but don't comment on because his friends intimidate me.

long-distancely yours,
marta

production notes

2009-12-03T17:57:00.003Z

during one of my ten minute walks home, in which i tend to reevaluate my entire life and where i come up with 90% of my writing prompts and plots (the other 10% go 5% for in-the-shower and 5% for long-roadtrips), i thought this blog was asking for a little dedication of sorts, which is:
the only reason i write anything here is/are Lupe and Lizzie (that's the first and last time, i promise). i love our conversations because i get to really talk about pointless things and anything that crosses my mind, self-centered scattered thoughts i get and stuff.

lately though, it's harder and harder for us to get to talk for a little while, even if it's just to let one another know we're ok. i miss you guys a lot.

so i write things up here because i know they're going to read it, and then they'll know i'm ok and they'll get my scattered thoughts anyway.

also, i promised the two of them a letter and i promised myself that i would write one yet two or three months later they are still letterless - that is due to the fact that i am a) the worst letter writer in history and b) the best procrastinator in history. the conclusion to be made is that at this rate they may have received a letter by late january 2013.

lupe and soph - get updating those blogs (you both may or may not need to make a new one) because i need to get your scattered thoughts back.
or e-mail me. i'm a better e-mailer than letterer.

even if it's just to let me know you're ok.

why didn't you go to school?

2009-11-18T21:31:00.003Z

beware people of the United States
that's you, lupe and sophia, no matter how much you want to deny it at times (i'm kidding)
remember the whole omg the portuguese school system is awesome blah blah blah
well i withdraw everything i ever said on the subject.

i'm tired! screw you, school!

we've got to carry each other

2009-11-15T21:28:00.003Z

something deeply touched me a couple of weeks ago when i was watching a documentary on SIC with my mother about the orphans of AIDS in Angola and Mozambique.
there was this boy, like 18 or something, who was taking care of his 3 younger siblings completely on his own since his mother had died when he was around 14. he had built the house they lived in, he searched for/bought their food and cooked it and took care of each one of them. the only thing they owned was the shed that he had built for them to live in, and they didn't even own the land it was built on.

however, at the end of the documentary, the reporter asked him:
"so, what do you need?" (what are you lacking?) (what would you like to have?)
i expected any answer aside from that gorgeous, brave, fierce smile and
"nothing"
he hesitated
"maybe just--"
but then he smiled again
"nothing, really. everything's well. we're all-- well."

he doesn't need anything.
what?

many people might say at this point how much they wished that everyone in the world could feel that way, like they didn't need anything else and everything was ok.
but i think i'd rather wish for the fact that someday everyone in the world will be able to feel awful over petty things and want really pointless, meaningless STUFF and clutter, because then we'd at least be sure that we all have what we really need.

keep the story funny

2009-11-14T12:54:00.002Z

poetry can be really elusive to write
but some days i can almost feel like

i gotcha down, poetry ; D

there's gotta be more to life

2009-11-09T14:22:00.006Z

astronomy and quantum physics really scare and intimidate me.
space and time don't exist, the idea of negative space separating particles is but a construct, everything is connected and intertwined since the big bang and everything that has a possibility of happening will happen unless you verify its occurrence.

everything is in an indefinite place of existence and is at the same time in every possible existence at the same time until verification.

PSYCHOTIC.

but i was watching "What the Bleep?! Down the Rabbithole" yesterday (i haven't finished watching it yet so no spoilers) and they mentioned how frightening some physicians' vision of intelligent life forming on earth as an accident and a lonely abnormality in a lonely universe is so deprecating to, well, everyone, and how it can totally deteriorate your vision of yourself.
it's much better to think of everything as one, of yourself as a part of jupiter and the milky way and your next door neighbour - you as a part of everything and everything a part of an unknown total.

that makes me feel a bit better.

superficialness

2009-11-07T10:36:00.009Z

so charlie said that my post about scarlett johansson might make him seem superficial and the kind of guy who only likes blondes, which is false.
so to counter the earlier scarlett johansson post, here are the guys i drool over at the movies:

adrien brody, because he's just so charming and-- and charming.

dev patel*, he looks so sweet.

ewan mcgregor* (who didn't sigh with moulin rouge? even though personally i prefer ewan on a motorcycle riding across africa)

jude law*! especially in sky captain.
and of course...

hugh jackman*.

i have marked with an asterisk the ones with smexy accents.

as you can see, he has a lot more to put up with than I do.

what did you do today?

2009-10-23T19:44:00.002+01:00

i love being his girlfriend.
it might just be the best thing that's happened to me -- meeting him, and all the adventure that's followed and that we've had together, living like teenagers ought to live, dancing and running and creating things together that we're going to remember and cherish no matter how things turn out in the future.

i love it, i do, i'm not being ungrateful or anything, i know that i have something really special, that i have what i looked for and waited for for what seemed like ages.

i love being his girlfriend but it scares me how easily that becomes my whole identity. how easily other people associate me with him to describe my personality as a whole. how easily it is that i stop being "my friend marta" and start becoming "my friend carlos' girlfriend". i guess i blend in and he stands out, or maybe he connects with people easier than i do -- well, he does. he's more outgoing than i am and makes friends a lot faster, it's like it's natural in him to make people feel confortable and welcome around him.
i had gotten used to the fact that most of my friends these days had begun to think of me like that, like an appendage to their real friend, and it was, well, kind of ok. i guess i came to terms with it. but i was happy that i still had my old friends from 9th grade to whom i was still my independent self, someone with a unique personality that only belong to me -- with them, i could still be the person i really am, without being attached to someone else.

but now i think even they might...
eh
i love that he's friends with my friends.
and i know it's a really weird point, the one i'm trying to make.
i guess i just wish we could still be separate people even though we're together, but i suppose one of us has to blend into the other in order for things to work.
and if this is what i need to do and to be in order to be with him and have all that he gives me, i don't care about it, after all i still have my friends, i'm just not as vibrant as i used to be to them.
i don't know if i ever was.
if i was, would i be this easily...
...blended?

no-one here wants to fight me like you do

2009-10-16T19:13:00.003+01:00

LET'S FIGHT.
seriously, let's fight. some days i wake up and all i want is some yelling, well-constructed arguments, backward attacks. i want to make you think about why you made a certain decision and make you come to the conclusion that you had it all wrong in the first place. some days i am the most confrontational person on the planet.

no, i don't love fighting for the sake of the make-up, as some romantics love to say -- we all know that people who say that are really non-confrontational and they don't want to admit it. personally i don't think it's a bad thing that you want to avoid conflict, it's actually a very good trait that i can take pride in having some times.

but some
days
i just...
i guess i don't have as much self-control as i like to think i do.
when i'm in a crappy mood, i fight, it's what i do, i take any little thing i can find and i pick and pick at it until i make the person i'm trying to tick off explode.
...it really doesn't make me feel any better but it makes my anger really happy, and that's the best you can hope for at that point.

so i'd like a cheer for everyone who puts up with me even when i'm in those awful moods that have nothing to do with my menstruation no matter what my guy friends tell you.
seriously, i'd have like 6 periods a month if that were the case.

i love you guys.
so won't you fight me sometimes?

scarlett

2009-10-13T21:50:00.003+01:00

my boyfriend loves scarlett johansson.
i don't get it.
i'm far prettier than her.
what's so special about this girl?

seriously.

plus "vicky christina barcelona" was a really sucky film, i don't care what anyone says, and "the man who isn't there" deeply disturbs me, not in a good way.

however, her CD is wonderful.

damn you scarlett.
damn. you.

featured here in the mango catalogue for this season.

the lowest point of my week

2009-10-13T20:10:00.002+01:00

I BROKE MY DECADE-OLD TAPE OF "YOU'VE GOT MAIL"
NOOOOO
i didn't exactly break it, it's more like my VCR ate it, i was trying to take it out and it kind of devoured the tape-thing and it came out all broken apart and AGHHH I AM SAD, that film helped mold much of who i am today, along with disney and pixar and parts of harry potter.
(i know i'm a nerd).
nonetheless, the way they talked, their dialogues, they were so magical and beautiful and they found so much meaning in meaninglessness.
so, i leave you with some quotes.
and i still think meg ryan and tom hanks should get married in real life.
end of story.

Kathleen: Once I read a story about a butterfly in the subway, and today, I saw one. It got on at 42nd, and off at 59th, where, I assume it was going to Bloomingdales to buy a hat that will turn out to be a mistake - as almost all hats are.

Kathleen: When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.

Kathleen: You don't love me.
[Frank shakes his head 'no']
Kathleen: Me, either.
Frank: You don't love me?
[they both laugh]
Frank: But we're so right for each other!
Kathleen: I know! I know.

Joe: Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly-sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. On the other hand, this not knowing has its charms.

Joe: Did you know that every night a truck pulls up to H&H Bagels and pumps about a ton of flour into the ground? The air is absolutely amazing.

GRAHGH.
i'm so sad.
i asked my boyfriend to give me the DVD for christmas.
at least then my VCR can't munch it up.

carelessly

2009-10-05T23:19:00.003+01:00

the first day of shooting today marked also
- the first day of torrencial rain in october
- the first time sara got naked in a public location
- the first time i directed a film for my own personal enjoyment
- the seven thousandth time (i think that may be understated) i realised how much my boyfriend and my friends mean to me

every time it seems it's a little bit more.

super fun, as predicted.

dr. strangelove

2009-10-04T13:19:00.003+01:00

he and i had a really weird moment yesterday.
we were at the park just lying on the grass as we do a lot (not so much recently and i've missed it!) looking up at the sky. the sky was really bright blue just atop us but it was a strange kind of cloudy and everything on the ground seemed dark and gloomy.
suddenly these really strange planes started going by, not high enough in the sky to be commercial planes, not low enough to be single-engines, with two lines of steam-clouds forming behind them. we saw at least five going in different directions, crossing one another in the sky.
he whispered:
"what if those were missiles?"
we paused for a while, quiet, staring up at the UFOs going by and knowing that, no matter what they were, we were completely helpless to stop them.
"what if that was a war starting?" he asked.
there was this deep silence and, when the sky was clear of flying objects again, a thunderstorm broke out in the distance and it sounded distinctively like a bomb dropping in the movies, throwing this uncontrollable fear up our throats. we knew it was irrational but the mood lent itself to irrational fear, like a nightmare when you know things happening aren't true but they scare you because they've shown you a possibility.
if your mother dies in a nightmare you're not sad because she died, seeing as she's alive, but you're scared because it showed you how much closer that possibility is than you often care to remember.
when we sat back up the world seemed about 30 times less bright than when we left it for the sky.
we walked home in nervous steps, and i told him:
"if we die, i love you"
and what i was thinking was:
"even if we don't, i love you anyway."

(stanley kubrick has a brilliant film called: "dr. strangelove, or how i learned to stop worrying and love the bomb", which approaches this subject and others.)

hold on hold out

2009-10-01T20:27:00.001+01:00

today i saw this house, falling apart, the roof coming off a bit and no glass on the windows, and on the clothesline there were two stuffed animals, a puppy with massive sparkly eyes and a tweety bird with a pillow.
it may have been the saddest thing i've ever witnessed.

used to be one of the rotten ones

2009-10-01T16:14:00.004+01:00

guess what you guys! i'm making a movie.

yeah!

we start shooting on monday and i expect it to be super fun. i borrowed a camera and a tripod from school, and i have the script nearly half-way done so we know where to shoot and what to shoot first. it's going to be about 15-20 minutes long, as far as i see it right now, and it's basically about a boy and a girl with no expectations, no perspective, no long-term plans, no conscience, no purpose in life. and when they meet they kind of figure out that sharing things and finding common ground is what life is really all about.
my friend sara is playing the girl and my boyfriend is playing the boy.
i'm hoping it'll go at least half as well as i'm hoping.
wish me luck!

broken social scene featured in title and tag

the fool who's falling for you

2009-09-28T22:44:00.004+01:00

i don't believe in gratitude, unconditional love, surrealism in art, organized religion, spiritualism, magic or a bunch of other things people are better off believing in.
so it shouldn't be surprising that i don't believe that an artistic job can really be a job -- rationally i do, i think it's really cute and lovely that people really want to take theatre or cinema as a career and it makes me smile and dream and all that jazz but, although an artistic career is what i most dream about, thinking about actually taking an artistic college course makes me laugh.

i guess my idea of a career really is stuck in working at an office, following orders, making it up some sort of corporate ladder, being fierce, being bossed around by someone and rebelling against someone else, sharing your aches, and finally bursting out of an artistic coccoon.

i would love to make movies. it would make me so happy to be a film director, i really think it's something i'd be good at, something i would do well, but somewhere in my mind it's been deeply rooted that those kind of jobs aren't really jobs.

i know they are.
i just can't convince myself of it.
which is weird because i'm mainly a liberal person, i'm so liberal i make myself sick at times, BUT it's a part of my mindset and i really want to be a journalist or a translator or a bunch of things one at a time. i'd love to work in brussels for the un doing two hours of exhausting translation a day before turning in. i'd like to be a war correspondent for a while, or work at an office making copies, with a cubicle covered in colourful post-it notes, and i want to rent a really cheap-ass flat in paris to make paintings in that desperately smells like paint and my dresses will be spinny and colourful and beautiful, from the salvation army.

it's difficult to choose a future and guess at which one would be better and where you're safer compromising.

compromise never seems safe.

but i know i'll get by.
just not in a cinematic major.
i'll stick with safe, career-oriented choices, for the sake of a) a safer future and b) respecting my deep-seeted beliefs, no matter how ridiculous.

[gregory and the hawk featured in title and tag]

purpose

2009-09-06T20:03:00.001+01:00

when he holds me it's like
i'm borrowing him for myself but
someday he'll have to go back
to his true purpose.

whatever that is.

less than three

2009-09-01T01:43:00.002+01:00

All of my friends are remarkably good-looking, funny, intelligent, witty, comforting, sweet, cultured and absolutely fantastic.

<3

how about breakfast at tiffany's?

2009-08-29T13:22:00.002+01:00

I know that, although you're mad at me now and you may forget it, you'll love me in a moment.
And no matter how mad you are, you're mostly mad because what I did was bad for me
so that makes me happy.

I love you, mum.

song

2009-08-29T02:40:00.003+01:00

"i am trying to say
what i want to say
without having to say
i love you"

-What I'm Trying to Say
Stars
Set Yourself on Fire

"ning is like cling except no-one's ever broken up with me for being too ningy."

2009-08-28T21:56:00.003+01:00

i'm a severely co-dependant person. all my life i think, ever since i remember and putting together testemonies from people who knew me even before i can remember, i've been clinging to someone.
i mean sure, at first everyone clings to their mum, at least for the first couple of months if you can, because otherwise every single psychologist you ever see will be dubbing your perfectly natural personality quirk as a massive disorder that stems from that start of life.
but as a normal person, yes, i clinged to my parents until i started school.
and that's when, somehow, in an event i've yet to isolate, i found out that my whole life needed to be devoted to/shared with someone else in order for any of it to make any sense at all, because after all independence is a sin and a person who can defend his or her self without the aid of others is but a tragic hero doomed to a tragic finish.

obviously i didn't put it like this back then, but it's basically what i was set on when i started making friends -- people that you can share and do things with, so you won't, you know, be alone.
because being alone is even worse than being a tragic hero. it's just, uhm, tragic.

all this is fine and dandy, it's ok that you devote your life to your friends, it's actually pretty damn normal (unless, like me, you ended up eventually develop confused feelings and felt dreadfully abandoned whenever someone else cancelled something with you or broke your trust or did something disgracefully inoccuous that you read waaay too much into).
when you apply it to romantic relationships... it all starts to get messy.

three months into dating charlie, i had successfully faked an apathetic yet loving personality in which i cared for him but he did his thing and i did my thing, and it didn't bother me at all.
which was, obviously, a cover.
a very thin disguise, but a disguise nonetheless.

at that point he revealed to me that he wished i was more attached, that i wouldn't be so distant at times and that it made him really frustrated. that was when all the mushy stuff started.
that was when the romantic declarations like "i only live for the sake of you" and "no-one in the whole history of the world has ever loved another person as much as i love you in this exact instant except for perhaps me in a different incarnation loving you in a different incarnation", and comparisons to Napoleon and Josephine (who cheated merrily on each other and eventually got a divorce), and Romeo and Juliet (most likely the world's most widely misunderstood love story, which can be related to the fact that at least 80% of readers don't make it through the first 20% of the play). none of it is exactly in these words, but if you read into it that's what you get.

because i'm CLINGY. i try not to be, but i'm pretty sure i'm as readable as a book, or a yellow roadside neon sign, or a huge billboard across a building façade.

i don't think i've ever had a time of my life when i didn't have a person to devote my every moment to, someone that i thought about when i did anything, the one person that i wanted to tell everything to, share everything with. although most of the time this person didn't even know they mattered this much to me, it didn't really need to be a two-way thing to make me happy, in fact, i was just happy knowing that i had that person, that friend, or seed of a friend, or hope of a possible future friend.
but when you know, when it's been confessed by the other person, that you matter to them as much as they do to you, i don't know why, it starts to get more complicated. it should just become easier, right?

i think in the instant that two people confess their mutual necessity for one another, it's like this bond of responsibility is formed. while a person who doesn't know how much you need him/her and doesn't need you back has no definitive action towards how you should or shouldn't feel, and is, therefore, free to backstab you or unintentionally hurt you all he/she wants, a person who has admitted to share and understand your feelings...
i don't know where this comes from, whether it's something that's been burned into my brain by social convention or my own needy personality, but i think that person has to take at least part of the responsibility in how you feel -- once they know that they're what you're (for the time being) devoting your life to, i mean, that's a pretty heavy weight to carry, right?
and even more so if that person is also your lover. right?

i think that's why i'm so clingy and i get so ticked off when really meaningless things happen that push me over the edge. they can be really, really, really hollow things with no inherent meaning, like a promised phone call that never came or being a long time late or taking a last minute raincheck on a date over something else that came up.
they don't mean anything or affect the proof of his love at all -- how much he loves me shouldn't be dependant on little things that don't happen often and happen separately over the course of long periods of time. overall he's the person i've ever relied on this much and the one who's let me down the least.
but these letdowns, no matter how little, are incredibly amplified when they come from him.

he doesn't deserve all of the times i get mad at him for things he doesn't do, or expect him to know things he couldn't possibly know. he loves me more than... than i ever thought would be possible and has proven it a billion times over, as well as he's proven that he'll protect me, risk everything for me and do almost anything.

that's why i'm going to try to be less clingy.
or, at lack of that because i think that's a trait that'll take years to correct, i'll try to show it less, and get less ticked off when minor things happen.

most likely the largest blog entry i've ever written in any blog in my whole life (and i've had my share of them). i'm terribly sorry.

i love you more than badachumkachalupamillitaliparimichachumka, charlie.
i'm sorry but it's true!

quote on the header: john green of the vlogbrothers.

a shout out!

2009-08-28T04:14:00.001+01:00

if there's any shy-looking young man who has been known to read/hold copies of vonnegut novels in californian bus stops reading this
contact me!
i know just the girl for you.

; D

college.

2009-08-27T13:51:00.002+01:00

i think the major dilemma everyone my age faces (if they have food, shelter and a healthy family life, dilemmas which tend to come first : x alright, let me rephrase that--

i think the stereotypical dilemma for people my age right now is what to pick for college. you get this one choice this one time, and then if you make a mistake it will be hell to correct and it will be hard/impossible to take back.
it'll probably just, you know, hound you the rest of your life.

and you might think, but hey, in ten years what difference will it make whether you picked International Relations or Journalism or Language, Lit & Culture?
well, not much except ALL OF IT

i know that if i pick IR i've got a guaranteed job the moment i leave college (as far as any job is guaranteed nowadays, which is very little not so much sort of kind of yeah), and if i pick journalism i'll most likely have a job (unless, sure, economic recession). what i'd really like to study is Language, Lit & Culture (bidisciplinary for English/French). that would be heaven for me. american lit early XX century, two whole classes just for shakespeare, plus french renaissance lit and what-not, i would probably faint from the pure awesome of those courses.
but.
i do need to earn a living
and seeing as my boyfriend wants to be an archaeologist
if things work out it's not gonna be him bringing home the bacon!

i don't even like bacon.

anyway, i'm not sure what to do exactly but i've got this last year to become sure. i also don't know what university i want, though i've basically narrowed it down to two and i don't like one of them very much.
so you might say my choice is made.
the only issue is that all my friends are going to the other one and you know, i don't wanna be alone in a new city and new house and new college knowing basically no-one except a few acquaintances, that really scares me, the thought of living alone in a new place with no-one to rely on unless you travel an hour and a half on the freeway.

so the stereotype is very real and very frightening and actually does make me feel edgy when i think about it.
but i like to think that the other stereotype related to this is also true:
that by the end of this year i will have reached a certain clarity/certainty/religious peace, that will allow me to make the choice that is best for me in that instant under that state of mind and those influences.
which, in the end, is the best anyone can ever expect to do.

cheers peeps*

THE CAKE IS A LIE

2009-08-27T02:04:00.002+01:00

i don't think i belive in debt
not like, finantial debt, though i tend to forget who i lend money to and how much so it's easy for people to owe me money and never ever ever give it back to me.
i mean like, emotional debt.

like when you do something really nice for someone and they say "i owe you one"?
no they don't.
that's a lie.

example of a lie: "did you know that mars will be as big as the moon in the sky on the 27th of august?"
no. no it won't. so stop sending me that e-mail. for the sake of all that is holy. every effin year.

NEUROTIC

2009-08-27T01:17:00.002+01:00

NEUROTICNEUROTICNEUROTICNEUROTICNEUROTICNEUROTIC

i don't hate myself

but I HATE THAT I'M SO NEUROTIC

i wish i could split my personality into two and one of them could be my neurotic self and the other could be my normal, fun-loving, life-enjoying, cookie-monstering, hyphenating and not-control-freaking self. and then i could just, you know, hate the other self.

and have many many years of therapy to pay for.

nonetheless i think it would be a positive change from going in a blink from a cheery nerd in pigtails looking at B2.0 videos on youtube nonstop to a bumbling crying rag doll in the middle of my room like it's a part of narnia i've never seen before (it all looks that familiar!) unsure of what exactly triggered or is fueling this behaviour.

so yeah, i am a really neurotic person and it's the trait i hate the most and would like to change the most about myself (with that would go the fact that i'm a hopeless control-freak, insist on always having plans C, D, and E for each and every occurrence and the fact i feel like smothering people with hammers [physically possible? i leave that question for you] when their grammar isn't picture-perfect).

but
i would not change the fact that i'm neurotic over the environment.
yes, you will close that MOTHAFUCKIN REFRIGERATOR DOOR.
no, you will not CAMP IN NATURAL PARKS.

end of story.

don't go quietly

2009-08-20T12:17:00.003+01:00

even when you're scared everything you've ever done right can be erased by a beautiful mistake

don't
go
quietly

metaphorically speaking

2009-08-11T12:24:00.003+01:00

i was about seven when I had my first incident with a match. i was excited to light one for the first time -- it was before i started running from the kitchen whenever someone asked for help with the cooking.
so i lit it, and i suddenly became completely enthralled.
i had created fire.
like a soaring, burning, raging god, i had made flame from little wooden chip of nothing -- like magic, like a box of magic that my other hand was holding, and i stared into the flame with my eyes wide open trying to take it all in.

my mum tore the match from my hand eventually but it had already burned straight through my fingernails. my index and thumb were black at the tips.

i didn't even complain while it was burning, but an instant after the light had gone out, i cried. of course i did.

i think my first romantic relationship was a bit like that incident. even though i knew it was going to hurt me if i didn't let go fast enough, i was completely fascinated by what i'd been able to forge with someone else, no matter how hurtful it would become soon enough -- and though it hurt i just wanted to hang on, i was afraid it would be the most magical thing i'd ever do and i didn't want to lose that.
but when it all went out, i regretted hanging on for as long as i did. sometimes, however, fascination will do that to you and there's nothing you can do about it.

the big difference is that after my first incident with a match, i never lit a match again until i was like...
like 14. i'm pretty sure.
after my first relationship bruised me, i had a week of misery.
a week over three months of love/hate/rage? what the hell is that for grief?
well, almost instantly after that relationship ended, i realised what i'd been missing out on all along from hanging on to it.
my friends.
and among them was the guy who would soon change my life/perspective/routine/goals/mindset/everything.

i don't regret that the match went out. i regret that it didn't go out fast enough.
i'm just glad he showed up before i decided not to try any more relationships for another eight years.

that woulda been royal suck.

[loveyacharlie]

signed, sealed--

2009-08-11T12:15:00.003+01:00

My aunt used to write these amazing postcards when I was young.

I spent most of my childhood with her -- from before I was born to when I was around four, she lived with us and I slept with her most nights. One of my oldest memories (I'd risk saying the oldest) is the memory of her smell, sweet and dark, when I held onto her at night.

She's not a cheery person by nature -- she can be gloomy and sometimes you'll catch her staring so distantly into a blank point of space that it'll scare you and force you to reevaluate what you think of her. But she's always been a happy presence in my life, able to cheer me up from strange moods and teach me surprising things with every moment I spend with her.

She moved to the Azores when I was still little, but she never forgot my birthday and on that day I could be sure there'd be a wonderful birthday card on my mailbox. I've saved almost all of them. They were sweet and happy and well-written and would never fail to make me happy and proud of myself -- even reading them today makes me smile.

Then she moved back to the continent and the cards stopped.

She's been living in Holland now with her husband and children, so this year I got a card again. I was so happy opening the envelope, pulling out the card with candles on the cover, and disappointment flushed over my face when I read what it said. "Happy birthday, have fun."

For the first time in my life, I looked in the envelope to see if there was money in it. I've been ashamed of that ever since, but it doesn't change the fact that I did it.

fshh fshh

2009-08-06T22:12:00.002+01:00

I constantly feel drawn into the abyss.
If it hurts, I want it to hurt more.
Just to see how bad it can get.
If I feel bad, I want to feel worse, I want to listen to crap sad songs and just cry for hours on end over something that has already been solved. I want to feel like total shit and never come back from it, never, I just want to find out how much it can hurt, how much I can take and how far I can take it. I want to jump straight down in the deep black hole of feelings.

Sometimes I go somewhere dark inside my head. It's incredibly easy for me to slip into it, like I'm a dark person already and all I need is a slight push to jump in. I can be in an amazing mood and suddenly something is off, and I'm knee-deep into a strange state of mind in which I am spectacularly aware of the uselessness of how I feel and why I shouldn't feel like it, but I do anyway just to see what'll happen.

If it hurts, I want it to hurt more.

Curiosity made the cat... emotionally unstable?

ithinkican ithinkican

2009-08-04T13:01:00.005+01:00

There's something magical about running alongside a train trying desperately to find an open door. Something distant about it, like it reminds you of the twenties, of newspaper reporters in faraway countries where they don't speak the language, hopelessly trying to get the attention of anyone who will stop the train for them, scribbled on notes fluttering away behind them.

Nowadays, trains don't have drivers, most of them are automated and they stop for programmed amounts of time without waiting for anyone at all.

I don't know for how long I'd dreamed about running along the tracks, but, I'd say, for as long as I've been reading books and watching movies. It's so epic. And when I finally got my turn, it was far more romantic than I'd ever imagined. I was wearing my red high-heeled shoes and my feet hurt like all hell broken loose. The train was boarding and virtually everyone else was in it already - it'll be hard to forget how my boyfriend dropped a kiss on my lips before running ahead of me to get tickets for us.

We jumped on and the doors closed behind us.

It was glorious.

We walked along the carriages, bags thrown over our shoulders, trying to find an okay place to sit, and eventually we settled with sitting in front of an old man who then proceeded to tell us the story of his life.

'A mother's love,' he would say in tears, 'is a gift that can never be repayed. Not even dying pays back that debt.'