Sunday, April 27, 2008

a response E-mail from a friend:

Dear Laila,

I completely understand how you feel. I feel that way more often than I actually should, more than anybody should, to tell you the truth. I feel lonely up here too, there are friends, there are colleagues, classmates, my family, but it is not the same thing. I have my husband, my seven cats. But there is always something that I lack, some strange feeling of yearning, a veiled desire for being consumed by something/someone, a longing for fusion. I don't say that I am not happy with all that I have, I am, and very much, but there is something definitely missing. I try not to think about it, you know? Given that I don't understand this feeling that invades me more often than not, I just try to leave it somewhere inside, somewhere I can just pretend not to see. Maybe it's not only me, maybe it's not only you. I think that we feel that way because of the form with which our society has become. We don't have anything that is really, really solid nowadays. Everything is fluid and escapes us, there is nothing definite, nothing definitive. And I think I miss that. I miss what is concrete.

I also work at home. And sometimes it is really bad. Ok, I only have my translations to work with, but I cannot bring myself to have the discipline I need in order to keep the house tidy and study. I basically don't do anything. I feel more depressed than I actually confess. During the afternoons, I sleep. I cannot bring myself to keep my eyes open. My body just gets lazy and I need to sleep. I just need. I can't resist. It is stronger than I am. In the past, around three years ago, I used to feel so depressed that I just wouldn't leave the house. I didn't want to talk to people, I didn't want to see how the day was outside. I think College has saved me, so to speak. It is a commitment, something I have to do, that pushes me for leaving, for going outside. If I weren't studying at the moment, I would probably be considering life on Mars or something. At the same time that I love to study, I just can't stand it. And that because I just don't want to do anything.

Don't think you're alone on the suicide thing. And I don't think you're going to kill yourself. I mean, I've contemplated this possibility countless times. You have no idea how many. Nowadays it still haunts me. And I really can't say what keeps me from jumping off the ledge of a building, or slicing my wrists, for example. There are so many things I want to do, so many people I want to talk to, but when it comes to the action itself, I just freeze. I don't have the will to bring myself to do anything. I feel apathetic and go to sleep. EVERYDAY.

I haven't been drinking much lately. In the past I used to live my life as if I were on the verge of dying, as if everyday were the last one for me. Nowadays I'm trying to take it easy, especially because I don't have patience anymore. I don't feel that much like going out and partying, you know? But at the same time, I feel a bit dead inside. I've been struggling with my weight ever since I can remember. Today I went to Liberdade, a district in São Paulo where you can find all sorts of Japanese food, and ate more than a human being should be allowed to. Brought food home and ate all the sweets I could.

Where are you from? How did you end up in RS?

Maybe you're not ungrateful, maybe you just haven't been talking to the right people. I deeply believe that there is someone out there for me, I mean, someone that is going to be my friend forever. You know, that romantic ideal of the perfect friend? I wish I had one like that. I had deep rooted relationships of friendship in the past, but I've changed so much that I cannot relate to my old friends anymore. We've grown worlds apart, I cannot go back. I've learned so much and they seem to be in the same place I was ten years ago. I wish I had someone to talk to. REALLY TALK. Suddenly I have this feeling that I need to expose to the world but that I don't know how.

Maybe people like us feel like this because we have too much to give and don't know how. There are so many things exploding in my chest all the time. I have this need to devour everything and everyone I see, I want to give myself to everybody, I want o immolate myself at every second of the day. But there is nothing in return, I don't feel it. That's why I whither and die everyday, when I arrive here and see that, even though I have the love of my life by my side, I'm alone. Utterly alone. But then again, we are always alone. Nobody is able to see and know who we really are except ourselves. We were born alone and will die alone. Nothing can change that.

I know what you mean when you say you want to be admired. I have that need myself. Thankfully my husband compliments me all the time and I know he means it. I know of his adoration, I know everything. But during those moments in which I'm not feeling sorry for myself or when I'm not too petrified to do anything, I see myself differently. I see the magic worlds that exist within me, I notice my body, the way I walk, talk and go about doing my things. And I wish someone could see me through my eyes, could admire the little things I know I have and that I am sure are special. And I don't know if that makes sense. Today I'm not making sense at all. And this letter to you sucks. Today is one of those nights in which I feel my light is fading out. I feel terrible for eating as much as I did and I deeply wanted to vomit, to see if I could start over. Tomorrow is Saturday, another day for trying a new diet. I think it will always be like that.

I feel like I am letting life pass me by. Maybe it is because of the intensity with which I lived in the past. Maybe it is because that is the truth. I don't know. I can't say.

I know I need to start doing something. I need someone to kick me in the butt and give me some discipline. I think I need to go to martial school or something like that.

Write.

XOXO

A.

PS> This letter is going to be short and unrevised, so, sorry for the lack of sense. My hands are hurting me and tomorrow I have a lot of typing to do.

Friday, April 18, 2008

an E-mail to a friend:

hello A.

I really need to write to someone... I have felt lonely to the bones. Have got no friends at all here except for my husband and Tibby, my sweetest cat. I have been down for the last two or three weeks and I can't explain why. I teach in a school where I also live and life has been this way for more than 5 years. Business is going wonderful... but there is this despicable pressure. I guess the pressure for having to live where I as well work is making me hit the ceiling very easily. Dealing with people is another drama of this occupation of mine. I am not gaucha. I have no connection to any person from this city and no one can explain why I ended up opening this business all the way down here. I love different cultures and I'd never complain about cultural conflicts. What pisses me off is the way stuck-up people act down here. I do know that folks from the high society behave pretty much the same everywhere around, but down here they love to pretend they are poor or they just enjoy being stingy for some unkown reason. It must be an Italian thing since most of them have an Italian heritage. Or it is just an old mania which they can't get rid of. They love to complain and they would never compliment on any great effort. I know that this is not true for everyone but that doesn't matter coz that is the most common aspect in people. The kids are widely smart and it is a bless to teach them. Within me, I feel there is a lot being missed out. I live to work and definitely do not work to live... I have extreme ups and downs and have even thought of suicide. I know this is pretty scary and I know I could never try such a thing. I don't wanna scare you but this is something I had to write about. I would never accomplish that since I need to have that book published. Maybe I can turn my poetry into the shape of a book someday and people would place it underneath their pillows before falling asleep. I am a dreamer. I am also a spoiled brat. I drink too much. I eat too much. I curse too much. I am disgusting in so many ways. I have this strange need to be adored, admired, and sometimes even worshipped but I don't struggle much for it. As a teacher, I get that I am being loved and admired sometimes. But as a co-worker or friend, I am so feeble. I wish I were feistier but I am a total ungrateful twat.

love
L.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Bad internet connection and Chinese dinner

This post started a few days ago, written on pieces of paper and pen, just because I haven't had internet access since Monday. In fact, the internet connection comes and goes. When it seems everything is going great... it simply fails. So, here I am writing on ruled notebook sheets. I'll be typing this tomorrow (two days later, actually) if the machines, routers, and cables decide to run well by its own will. We´ve got a few computers, fast broadband wireless connection, and tones of problems with all these things.

Electronic devices run well when they want to. I've been so overstressed about the ones we've had... but I don't care anymore. I won't worry about them. I'm happy for having this opportunity to be writing by hand. It's been a way long time I don't feel this experience. I really enjoy this sort of mental exercise. Writing with pen and paper feels certainly medieval. It is vintage. It is so nostalgic. Handwriting is simply the best thing for any writer. My ideas are gotten across much better this way. It's unexplicable.

Maybe it is a family thing. My father is a writer too. He does set the ball rolling from handwritten notes. He is a grammarian and has published many books on Portuguese and English language most common issues. I myself don't feel very comfortable when it comes to grammar but I don't feel embarassed when I don't get words or sentences right. I try the best I can; I simply keep on writing... I enjoy my blog the way it is: with mistakes and poor writings. I have apparently found the best template, in my opinion. Let's see for how long.

Btw, tonight I've got a dinner party at my Chinese teacher's house. Roberto and I are going to have some Asian food and long cultural talks. I hope we get to speak in English during the whole meal because their Portuguese is quite poor. They are Lucia and Olivio. They have two daughters and a small Chinese school in this town. I confess that I enjoy a lot being around them however I can't really fall in love with Chinese language. I guess it is because it does sound hard to my ears. I wish I could be more fluent by now. Chinese language is f*c&ing tough.

And... since the internet issues haven't gotten over yet, hubby is pushing me to get through with this post to start reinstalling the damn wireless internet devices all over again and again and again...

...5 hours later: the dinner party ended up being a huge success. The conversations were entirely in Portuguese and pretty much comprehensible. I played a lot with Madelaine. The vegetarian dishes were exquisite. I loved so much the cabbage lasagna which my teacher Lucia made that I had to get the recipe and I am definitely making it for the boys in the hood down here.

As I am blogging at this very moment, I am happy to announce that all the computers of this school/home have been hooked to the internet thing for about thirty minutes with no cut-offs. Hence, we are officially back to the virtual world... and with no downs in the connection... This has got to be cool, hasn't it?

Sunday, April 6, 2008

!@#$%^&*


a poem from funkcat.com

Funk is pain in a worldly sense of joy.
Feeling you've caught an emotion
certainly real,
deeply felt,
it becomes yours.
The music,
a teacher,
something a soul should avoid.

Afraid to write what you should?
You might find something
that changes your routine.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

a bit of poetry

MY MOUTH WATERS
MY WIND BLOWS
MY SKY SCRAPES
WHAT MY MIND FLOWS

MY HAND WRITES
MY BODY WORKS
MY PEN COLORS
WHAT DRAWINGS COAX

MY HEAD SPINS
MY HIPS SHOW
MY LEGS REACH
WHAT MY FEET SEW

MY EYES SHINE
MY HEART SIGHS
MY FINGERS TRY
WHAT'S IN MY THIGHS

MY HAIR IS PULLED
MY LIPS SWIRL
MY TONGUE TRAVELS
AS MY ARMS THRILL
WHILE WE DRILL... DRILL...

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Für die etwas dunkleren Stunden im Leben

Wo bist du?

Die Nacht hat den Tag langsam umgebracht

und alle Katzen grau gemacht.

Ich kühle am Fenster mein Gesicht,

wo bist du ? Warum kommst du nicht ?



Die Straße schickt lockend ein Lachen herauf,

ich will es nicht und werf`s wieder raus.

In meinen Tränen schwimmt Kerzenlicht,

wo bist du ? Warum kommst du nicht ?



Eine Fliege ertrinkt in meinem Wein,

es ist totenstill, ich hör sie Hilfe schrein.

Ich seh ihr zu und ich sehe mich,

wo bist du`? Warum kommst du nicht ?



Babe, Babe wenn du kommst

brennt in der Minibar noch Licht.

Da steht ein Bittermandel - Shake,

den überlebst du nicht, den überlebst du nicht.



Die Nacht hat den Tag langsam umgebracht,

und alle Weiber so wunderschön gemacht,

ich heule und ich hasse dich,

wo bist du ? Warum kommst du nicht ?

Wording Tuesday

scaf·fold·ing ˈskafəldiNG/ noun a temporary structure on the outside of a building, made usually of wooden planks and metal poles, used b...