People keep telling me how special I am and I don't get it. To me I'm plain normal.
I don't think checking whether Lando is wearing Han Solo's clothes at the end of The Empire Strikes Back just because there's a reference in Family Guy makes me special. At best it might just make me a little weird.
Oh, and by the way, he is. What is up with that? Why's he wearing...? Wait, how can he? At that moment Han was neatly hanging up on a wall in Jabba's Palace (wearing said clothes)... right? Or maybe Han Solo is just one of those guys who have tons of identical outfits, in which case then one would assume Lando was - for whatever reason - in his closet, therefore leading one to all sorts of puns and jokes... Huummm... Now I'll be up all night thinking about it...
The good. Finished bachelor degree and started master (this sounds so weird... is the terminology correct?). I was expecting it to be boring as hell, but actually I'm having fun! Who knew translating could be interesting? I certainly didn't.
Said I'd find me a suitable teacher and start singing again. And so I did. Didn't expect to get into a choir and sing on stage again, let alone do it well. Learned a lot about harmonies, which is awesome.
Wanted to try doing an acting course. Ended up doing two. Had the most fun ever. Perfomed on Culturgest. Loosened up some more, did things I never thought I had the guts to, all the while meeting great people in the process.
After two years I left KEPs. Which is really really sad. It broke my heart. But it also made me feel good about myself. Really mature and grown-up for actually letting go of something I cherished so deeply in order focus on my studies. And all ego-boosts are more than welcome!
Got into that School of Musicals course. All I can do here is quote Barney: It's gonna be legen- wait for it -dary! And now a little Quagmire: Allriiiight ;)
Managed to read both Gone with the wind and Catch trap. Big yay! And altogether read 29 books this year. Patting myself in the back for that one.
Gathered the guts to cut the crap and go to a shrink. Seriously, I'm a nut case. I should've done this years ago.
Throughout the year I went to the theater quite a few times. I feel so cosmopolitan...
And probably the most important of all - made a plan. Came to peace with certain aspects of myself and thought about all sorts of different roads I might wanna follow. All that whatever will be will be is finally sinking in. Ceasing overthinking protocol. Fireworks!!!
All in all 2009 was a great year. Sure some things went wrong. Some made me feel like banging my head against a wall for all my lack of self-control. But there were also loads of good stuff. Tons of new experiences. A year for personal growth... And yet... God I feel like Hachi!
We've reached that time of the year when it's absolutely unavoidable for me to look back and reflect about all I did and didn't do. So here's the good and the bad.
Heck, let's start with the bad so we can't get it over with and end the post (hopefully) with a smile.
The bad. By end of 2008 I looked at myself in the mirror and said I'd lose weight, but instead I gained loads more. Bad, bad me. I said I start dancing again. I didn't. Not really. Feel clumsy and ackward with hideous appearance. Plus I now dance wearing sneakers. Broke my heels and I'm currently waiting for *someone* to buy me some new ones for my birthday. Also another year's gone by and I'm still single. Picture Bridget Jones in her PJs drunk and flushed singing All by myself with little umbrellas on her hair. Not exactly me. Goodness gracious, no!... But sadly heading towards it... at least bits of me.
Oh well, let's do another fresh post for the good...
Não consigo esquecer o perfume. É como um nó na garganta. Porque custa-me ver alguém que me ama a gastar um balúrdio em algo que inevitávelmente acaba sempre nas mãos da empregada. Eu sinto-me culpada por não gostar. Fútil e mimada. Mas eu não consigo usar aquilo em mim. Não é que seja desagradável - pelo contrário - simplesmente não nada a ver comigo. São escolhas muito pessoais e aquilo para mim é aroma para uma mulher independente, segura, madura, já avançada na casa dos trinta (e estou a ser generosa!). Não combina com os meus ténis. Não combina comigo.
Isto é provavelmente dos posts mais fúteis que já escrevi. Mas estava a ver se curava uma insónia.
Deixem-me começar por dizer que no Natal a última coisa que desperta o meu interesse são as prendas que recebo. Preocupo-me mais com a refeição em família, a reacção das pessoas às prendas que eu ofereço, a música ambiente, a árvore...
Durante muitos anos divulgava a lista de prendas que queria. Desta vez nem abri a boca. Quis ver o que é que as pessoas escolhiam sozinhas. Devo dizer que fiquei desapontada. Não quero parecer ingrata - eu estou feliz por se lembrarem de mim e por receber prendas - mas enfim... Gostava de receber algo que tivesse sido escolhido para mim. De perceber que as pessoas à minha volta me conhecem minimamente.
Não é difícil. Eu sou aquilo que sou e é fácil de perceber. Eu gosto de livros, cds, musicais, canecas, colares, filmes... E depois há as coisas que eu claramente detesto receber - meias (especialmente se forem brancas ou sem qualquer padrão esquisito), perfumes, cremes, chocolates. Adivinhem lá o que é me calhou...
Não quero parecer ingrata, a sério... mas teria ficado mais feliz com uma caneca do Starbucks do que com o perfume da Burberrys.
I love the day before Christmas. Because there's not much to be done but to enjoy it. Presents are bought, wrapped and under the tree, college papers and articles are set aside until the 26th and all other arrangements that make Christmas day so hectic have to be done on the 25th. So today's all about pampering my inner child. I'll catsit, read manga, watch Mary Poppins, have cod with chestnuts for dinner, play poker with my family and who know what else :)
I love you to bits. The ain't no mountain high enough kinda love. But I feel you're sand in my hands; little by little you're slipping away no matter how hard I try to keep you close. More and more you're moving forward and I can't follow. I'm stuck in time. Dated. Outdated.
I hate the day after a show. Little energy and the inevitable sense of void. Specially with theater. Cause there's no class to go back to on mondays and thursdays.
If I were to psycho-analyse me (which indeed I'm about to do) I'd say this all goes back to my childish need to nest. To feel that I belong. That certain people are - in certain aspects - my people. My theater buddies. My KEPs. My college colleages. My family. Mine, mine, mine.
And right now it feels like it's all slipping away. Mature, sensible me knows that's just the way things are and it's all for the best. It's a hiatus. A Christmas break, if you will. Come January I'll start with the school of musicals, college evaluation and singing classes. On February a new theater course will begin. In fact, I should be glad to have these two weeks to focus on my studies and the holidays!
Lembro perfeitamente do momento em que me apaixonei pelos livros. Tinha nove anos e a minha professora da primária tinha começado a ler-nos As Crónicas de Narnia: O Leão, a Feiticeira e o Guarda-fatos duas tardes por semana. Lembro-me que nessa semana bati o pé na secção de livros do Carrefour até o meu pai me deixar trazer um exemplar para casa. Ainda tropeçava um pouco pelo português escrito, mas desde logo sabia que algo de muito importante tinha entrado na minha vida. Era um mundo novo. E eu era Lucy, a mais pequena dos quatro irmãos, pronta a descobri-lo. Dentro daquelas páginas estava um mundo mágico. O livro era o seu guarda-fatos, o portal que me permitia entrar. A mim. Sozinha. Deixava o mundo para trás, essa realidade cinzenta, salgada e turbulenta para mergulhar onde ninguém me poderia seguir. De onde ninguém me poderia arrancar. Um casulo quente e seguro. Simultâneamente, os livros eram muralhas, mantendo os outros de fora. Todas as crianças más. Todos os adultos desnorteados. E todas as crianças más. Para mim, menina pequena e sem carapaça, a descoberta da literatura foi desde logo uma benção divina. Um amor inquebrável, ainda que preenchido de ausências e retornos. Um grande, grande amor...
A aula de hoje esteve populada por inúmeros sons de Inverno: tosse, espirros, assoadelas, fungadelas... E no meio de tudo aquilo ocorreu-me que toda essa sinfonia sazonal que me impedia de ouvir claramente um professor sentado a menos de um metro e meio da minha pessoa era uma amostra infinitesimal daquilo que se passará no sábado à noite. Uma sala apinhada de gente encasacada (- a absorver o som -) a tossir, espirrar, assoar-se, a fungar, a rir, a gritar o nome dos alunos das turmas de dança... e aqui os actores que se desemerdem para se fazerem ouvir lá ao fundo!
Ok, so I'm tired of keeping myself from letting the cat out of the bag. I GOT IN!!! I wasn't even going to audition, I was sadly resigned that there was no way I could go and so assembled a nice consolation prize to keep me from tears. But last minute developments (plus all the recent musical-mania) led me to it. I ran hell for leather without really knowing what I was doing. Didn't even have time to prepare anything, I just winged it! By the time I finished the third and last audition I was in a daze. Then the results came. And even after 30 hours I still can't really believe I did it.
No sábado ele disse-me Não sejas parva! Vai... Vai! e de repente foi como ouvir o disparo de partida e algo dentro de mim começou a correr. Algo começou a respirar. E não houve quem me parasse. Corri com mais substância que meramente em especulações e sonhos. E agora que já passou (ou deveria antes dizer agora que vai começar) olho para mim ao espelho e ainda não acredito no que fiz. Sem medos. Ele simplesmente disse Corre e eu corri. Lancei-me de cabeça e agora estou aqui...
Este semestre tenho sido frequentemente visitada pela insónia. E não percebo porquê. E deixa-me danada. Deitar-me à uma e só conseguir adormecer às cinco. E isto sistematicamente. Por mais que tente não consigo fechar-lhe a porta. Estou farta de me tentar condicionar, qual experiência pavloviana. Mas nada. E lixa-me os dias. Deambulo com dores de cabeça pela mão, sem energia e com um nível de rendimento menor que o de uma criancinha da primária.
I'm in a frenzy. It's the trouble of attending some classes. I get all sorts of anxious and start thinking about all the stuff I have to do. I play cards. I update everything I possibly can. Twitter. Facebook, Blogger, my mail... I get more and more restless. This is a pointless post. I'm just letting my fingers run on the keyboard as they please. Yadda, yadda, yadda... Gibberish, gibberish, gibberish...
O Natal é uma época de tentações. Uma altura que puxa à manta no sofá. Que convida a revisitar filmes mais que revistos. Mary Poppins. Home Alone. The nutcracker. Alice in Wonderland. The producers. Um tempo em que as castanhas ainda piscam o olho e os Ferrero Rocher saltam directamente das prateleiras para o nosso colo. Em que é proibitivo passar pelo Starbucks. Em que se não fosse a caneca de chá a meter ordem nisto, seria o caos total. Noites de jantaradas. E o trabalho vai-se escondendo e acumulando atrás de tudo o que é peça de mobiliario. E nós em cima do sofá a olhar para o caixote maravilha. Natal é uma época que precisa de guizos para nos trazer de volta à realidade.
Today I got up in a very bad place. Crappy mood, heart-breaking dreams, and a loud alarm clock on a Saturday morning. All I wanted was to call in sick, skip rehearsal, go back to bed and try my hardest to defy that "no absolute rest in the Universe" theory. Instead I went to the said rehearsal and - within a few minutes stopped brooding. By the end of the first hour I was smiling and making jokes. I got home in a merry mood, only to discover my room had been thoroughly cleaned for me. Yay! I had lunch, sent some emails and now I'm going for some Xmas shopping. After dinner I'll work a bit and then watch Dollhouse. This is how you turn it around! :)
S.Fry: And on the other hand... H.Laurie: Ah, you've got three hands. S.Fry: I've got three hands. H.Laurie: They, of course, were doing a two-hander. Would they have benefited from an extra hand? Would that have come in... useful? S.Fry: I feel with an extra hand they might just have got away with it. H.Laurie: But did you enjoy their criticism? S.Fry: Oh, I loved it. I wanted to go to bed with it and kiss it in many soft private little places.
The secret of smooth almost shiny loveliness of the order of which we are discussing in this simple, frank, creamy soft way doesn't reside in oils, unguents, balms, ointments, creams, astringents, milks, moisturisers, liniments, lubricants, embrocations or basalms, to be rather divine for just one noble moment. It resides, and I mean this in a pink, slightly special way, in one's attitude of mind. To be gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffly and moist and sticky and lovely, all you have to do is to believe that one is gorgeous and high and true and fine and fluffly and moist and sticky and lovely. And I believe it of myself, tremulously at first, and then with mounting heat and passion because, stopping off for a second to be super again, I'm so often told it. That is the secret really.
Thanks to S-chan I found this radio on media player with musicals only. 24/7. It's amazing! So last few days I kinda felt like I was finally back home. I also learned how little I know musicalwise. Seriously, there's musicals about anything! There's a Shrek musical! It's an insanely huge world. Now picture my face smiling and my eyes twinkling all over the place. Yep, that's how I feel. I could devote my life (musicwise) to musicals only and I wouldn't ever get tired or bored!
Also last week I got tired of reading Lea Salonga and Kristin Chenoweth's tweets on Glee and decided to watch the show to see what all the fuss was about. I was hooked within ten minutes. Lea Michele started singing On my own and that was it for me (even though her character is a pain in the ass).
So basically my life now is musicals, musicals, musicals. Which is heaven. With the occasional pain of me realizing I'm just singing along in my bedroom with a pathetic glow in my eyes. And then all hell breaks loose. Until some parody on Andrew Lloyd Webber or Topol or Rent comes on. Then I smile and it's all good again.
Well anyway, with a bit of time and a self-esteem boost I hope that song from La Cage aux Folles will finally hit me...
The best of times is now What's left of Summer but a faded rose? The best of times is now As for tomorrow well, Who knows? Who knows? Who knows? So hold this moment fast And live and love as hard as you know how And make this moment last Because the best of times is now, is now, is now.
Sue Sylvester: [...] let me tell you something: there's not much of a difference between a stadium full of cheering fans and an angry crowd screaming abuse at you. They're both just making a lot of noise. How you take it is up to you - convince yourself they're cheering for you; you do that and someday they will.
So today I had a reunion. People I went to school with decided - thanks to the wonders of social networks like Facebook - to get together for a night out. It was weird seeing all those familiar faces after so long. To know what happened in their lives. Some people stay true to the course you thought they'd follow, some surprise you completely. And together (even though tonight there were barely twenty people) we have so much diversity: translators, biologists, psychologists, pilots, lawyers... And somehow - waaaay back in time - we kinda grew up together. And we look the same too; I look at faces and I immediately see someone that used to tease me for reading Harry Potter, or someone that sat next to me in English classes, or someone that once said lettuce was a nutrient. I look at us and realize we're still a bunch of kids. Yes, some of us have jobs, dress fancier, got our acts together, have cars, drink white wine... Yes, we're past the weird years, with all the hormones and acne. But deep down we stayed the same. And that's kinda comforting.
Yesterday I thought Hey, since it's Thanksgiving, let's give that "What am I thankful for" speech a go. Then a little voice inside of me said Nah! Let's not go there. And little voice was right. Not that I don't have plenty of things to be thankful for, but such a speech would inevitably voice feelings that are better left alone. Things that live in the dark. Things that aren't bright and shiny. So instead of starting something that would most certainly leave me moping around the house, I grabbed The Lion in Winter and spent my Thanksgiving afternoon curled on the couch with my blanket watching Glenn Close and Patrick Stewart go at each others throats. And it made me feel so much better.