School report

Primeiro dia da Escola de Musicais. Uma palavra: intenso. Mesmo. E digamos que o piqueno pormenor de ter de fazer as aulas de meias em chão de madeira exaustivamente polida (ou seja, absurdamente escorregadia) não ajuda. Não me vou por com descrições emocionantes do que se passou. Estou demasiado exausta para tal esforço. Apenas queria registar quatro pensamentos soltos:

É melhor esquecer a ideia peregrina de fazer alguma coisa de trabalho (e provavelmente de lazer) aos sábados. E hoje foi um dia soft de introdução...

Os meus dois aninhos nos KEPs não me vão servir de muito. De praticamente nada. Sinto-me minúscula perto das pessoas de comtemporâneo e ballet. Mas raios se não hei-de fazer o mesmo! Está tudo aqui. À espera de ser usado, ginasticado e dominado.

Amanhã nem me vou mexer. As minhas pernas e articulações vão redefinir o seu conceito de dores musculares...

Estou muito, mas muito feliz...

9 # 365

dia de aulas de meias e pés gelados

8 # 365

shopping spree

I ain't gonna face no defeat*

I have the will power of a cat. It's sad, but there you go. Anyhow, surprisingly enough this is not a mea-culpa kinda post. I just wanna say that I'm gonna give it another go. Being the beginning of a new year and with the start of so many new things in my life, who knows...

So I'm picturing Lea Michele performing Somebody to love on Glee (ep. 5). Why? Because I'm three years-old... or Cathy, whichever's less embarassing! I'll keep that image fresh in my brain and say to myself That's your goal! To sing and dance and look good in that outfit. Yes, I just said this. Call me shallow all you like. I need to do this. I need to have it all. For me. Because I know I can pull it off if I just put my mind to it. So get set...

*Somebody to love, Queen

7 # 365

ronha, doce ronha

Cute and quirky

I have quirks. Many, many, many quirks. And I love them. I have a thing for traditions and roots and stuff. I like to believe I have an adorable blend of predictability and what-the-hell moments (the good kind, the dead-poet-society-seize-the-day kind... before teen suicide, I mean).

I like mugs. My shrink asked me about it. I don't know why. I just do. Mugs are cozy. Mugs can hold all sorts of heart-warming beverages. Your go-get-'em-tiger breakfast milk, your very zen and balanced tea, your celebration cappuccino, your pat-in-the-back hot cocoa, your sunday coffee. What's not love about mugs??? Mugs are dermatology!

I'm the sort of person who could call their dog Paul Anka just for reference sake.

I get influenced so easily you wouldn't believe. As a matter of fact, this is post is only happening because I'm on a Gilmore Girls rush. Hence the wordyness. Once I went through this phase when I went to the movies a lot and everytime I got out speaking whatever language the movie was in and that state lasted for the rest of whole said day. The day I went to see Goodbye Lenin I barely spoke afterwards, my German was so bad! Oh and don't get me started on the LOTR obsession. Dear Lord, was that embarassing...

I call roundabouts cookies. It's a family thing that I've instantly adopted. To go around the cookie. Us, family women at the wheel... funny!

Bouquets of sharped pencils...

I'm Sheldon Cooper about a great number of things. My seat in the living room. The order of my morning routine. At some point, my seat at the movies. How I sometimes ask whether a meal was heated in the oven or the microwave so as to know if I should start eating from the outside-in or the inside-out (it's a thermodynamics thing). Many would argue this is not cute-though-slightly-annoying-Sheldon-behaviour, it's just OCD. Oh well...

I have no idea what else to say. The Lorelainess is wearing off. I'm going to bed now.

6 # 365

Gilmore night!

The brain on strike

There's only so much you I can bully my brain into absorbing information. I've now reached the limit. It's full to its maximum capacity and won't take anything else. It somehow resembles an attic packed with cardboard boxes - filled somewhat randomly - and piled one on top of the other all the way up to the ceiling and about to fall down.

5 # 365

my hand's about to fall off

The new year's eve drama

I'm a major what if thinker. And lately I've been thinking about last New Year's Eve. You see, I was supposed to go to a friend's house for dinner and then get on my car and drive to this huge party with loads and loads of people and party till the cows come home. But I never made it to the second party.

I promised I'd go (in fact, I was first invited to that one), but one thing led to another: dinner was running late, I was tired and sleep-deprived, I'm mighty scared of driving on New Year's Eve, it was raining cats and dogs, my eyes were still re-adjusting themselves from their first 3D movie, it was a considerably long drive... and at some point it got too late for me to get there before midnight and right after midnight someone turned on Buzz and before I knew it I was beating everyone's ass and they wouldn't let me leave. And I kept winning and time just flew by!

And I'm a bit sorry I didn't also go to the other one. Which is incredibly stupid. I had a great time with my friends that night - I should be happy! Period! But I never was much of a settler. And sometimes I start to wonder what if I'd gone to the other one. I'm sure it was a blast, but then so was mine. In the immortal words of Queen:

I want it all, I want it all, I want it all
And I want it now!

I now have no idea where I'm going with this. When I started this was supposed to be a happy post. A post on how I'm so glad I have so much I even get all drama queen about it! On how lucky I am that I got parties to choose from. And that they were both awesome even though I only attended one of them. The fact that I didn't leave that first one was because I was having so much fun I kept delaying my departure, so... it's all good! Somehow all the whining and the potential regret I might feel is a sign that I should feel happy and blessed. And that this gonna be a great year...