Um grito ao mundo

O mundo realmente me assusta a maior parte das vezes.
Acho que o susto tá sendo tão grande que não consigo superar com a segurança.
Que pena, que pena, eu digo.
Eu tenho medo desse mundo onde há um enorme esforço para se esconder da própria humanidade, onde muitos agem pela insegurança, mas alguns transformam isso em arrogância desumana e trata os outros desse modo, outros o transformam em medo e receio do mundo e outros (poucos) em humildade pacífica. Tipo, Jesus Cristo.

Dá vontade de gritar pra todos ouvirem: Alooow, não estamos todos nessa? Não temos todos os mesmos medos? O que estamos fazendo então, nos machucando (a nós mesmos e aos outros).

Putz.
É isso.
Aaaaaaaaaaah!

Point of View

O medo ficou menor ou sou eu que fiquei maior?

iomeyoeu

I
speak English
speak Português
I am bilingual by nature
polilingual by choice
Eu
traduzo
I
smell coffee
Io
voglio
.
came from the US of A
my yankee father
minha mãe paulista
no planalto central de Brasilia
entre cães e gatos
Eu
traduzo
Eu
medio
Eu
procuro o meu lugar
a minha Itália
I
indulge
cookies
and peas
meus pés
my feet
minhas palavras
têm vida
in my words
in other words...
iomeyoeu

If...continued

I have just read through my If...post (from way back in 2010) and I just did the first thing on that list. Without really realizing it, without planning to do so, I said, I can't do it anymore. And she listened and said, I understand, do what you have to do. I didn't even figure out what was after the "IF".

Now my stomach hurts I'm so nervous.

Tomar a decisão a partir da mulher maya e não da criança...será? Questiono um pouquinho isso.
Mas vamos lá.
A criança teria medo de decepcionar todo mundo, ficaria calada e terminaria o curso para mais uma vez ter uma estrelinha dourada grudada na testa. A menina sentiria tanto medo de fazer algo diferente que não faria e ficaria chorando sozinha enquanto "dá conta".

ou...
a menina choraria e diria, não dou conta, mãe, por favor faça algo, por favor me libere!
Mas não tem mais mães para me liberar ou ir pra secretaria por mim. Não tem mãe para por a mão na testa e constatar a febre. Seria a eu-mulher que teria que fazer isso por mim mesma?

The voices that screech FAILURE in my head won't let me be.
FAILURE, COWARD, STUPID, SCREWED, ETC...All sorts of pleasant things.
They say, you won't be able to handle it, the not knowing, the consequences of letting go of what you know but no longer love. I know I love the people that are there, I know I love the way they make me feel safe. But at the end of the day, these people are not here with me and they are not there with me when I'm facing the possibilities of my life. They're out there facing their own.

So what is it gonna be? Can I handle the consequences of my decision, EITHER WAY? Stay or go? What makes me sick to my stomach is the feeling that I can't handle it either way. That it no longer pends on the decision itself, but on my own existance, pure and simple.

I'm scared of getting sick again, scared of the fever.

What is wisdom in this case, what is prudence, what is stupidity?

God, I pray to thee tonight like I haven't in a long time. Please help me through. Please help me through, don't leave me hanging by a thread, please don't let me flip out on myself, don't let my body lose faith and begin to lose ground.
Please god, please.

Broken Strings

Let me hold you

For the last time

It's the last chance to feel again

But you broke me

Now I can't feel anything

When I love you

It's so untrue

I can't even convince myself

When I'm speaking

It's the voice of someone else

Oh it tears me up

I tried to hold but it hurts too much

I tried to forgive but it's not enough

To make it all okay

You can't play our broken strings

You can't feel anything

That your heart don't want to feel

I can't tell you something that aint real

Oh the truth hurts

And a lie's worse

How can I give anymore

And I love you a little less than before

Oh what are we doing

We are turning into dust

Playing house in the ruins of us

Running back through the fire

When there's nothing left to save

It's like chasing the very last train

When it's too late

One year ago just about I was singing this song practically every day. Actually, it was this song that made me realize what was going on in my old relationship. I would sing this in the car on the radio and suddenly the words were so true that I was crying with this newfound insight. "You can't play on broken strings" was my mantra for weeks and weeks. It tears me up...

These emotions since then have subsided and it' ok now. 

THE TRUTH HURTS, A LIE'S WORSE. 

I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here anymore. I haven't been wanting to be here since 2006. And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. 

let me repeat.

I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE. I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE! 

I've beaten myself down with all the rationalizations possible known to man:

1) be reasonable, here you have people you know, here you have "contacts"

2) be reasonable, you're gonna just leave everything, you need money first!

3) be reasonable, be patient, you just have to be willing to do things you dont really like until you can do what you really want. 

4) be reasonable, it's just a city, it's not really about a city

Ok. Ok. Ok. 

BE REASONABLE!!??

What an awful pair of words paired together. 

How about this, be reasonable:

I have been doing things I don't really enjoy for the last hundred years.

I feel suffocated here and petrified half the time

I don't feel I fit in anywhere when it was supposed to come with time, I don't feel I have a home

My mother is here but isn't, I have no idea of her input and as much as I desperatley need it I desperately don't want it because I'm tired of her point of view.

Make money with what? with what? Teaching English? cuz that's all I've got, for the past 5 years, teaching English is all I've got and it was always supposed to be temporary and something to help out until I reached the next step.

WHERE IS THE NEXT STEP?

Here I am, at a dead-end with my 7 year brasilia investment in my psychology career. I want to go back and start over. I have a dead diploma in my hands and a lot of resentment. I feel betrayed by the promise that this was going to be worth it in the end, that my vocation was truly this. In the end, nobody really cares anymore and I'm left here with this degree and this qualification I don't enjoy. 

I think I'm losing it, actually, i don't THINK I am, I AM.

I don't have the togetherness required for putting together a plan, for thinking long-term, for organizing myself into something that resembles and adult, because I am going crazy dealing with the suffocation, the boredom, the fright, the tiredness and the anger.

I lost the moment when I was supposed to get out of here, like my sister. I lost the several opportunities that came up in times when I didn't have maturity enough to take them.

I don't know what to do. I literally do not know what to do. 

All that comes to me is that "what a huge disappointment you're going to turn out to be...AGAIN."

That's all you do, afterall, disappoint.

I don't know what to do.

Let me rant. I know this isn't the greatest attitude to deal with anything, but I'm just getting things off my chest, I'm not feeling well today.

Sadness

My soul has grown silent tonight.
I am sad beyond words, beyond worlds.

I am silent, I am grieving. People crying on TV make me cry as if they were my kin.
I don't want to eat. I know I have to, but I dont want to. I wish mealtimes could just be skipped without notice.
I wish I could pass by without notice, slip away and not have it be a fuss.

I cannot fathom what I am sad about, but it is a sadness as big as my hands, as wet as this rain, and as weary as these lines.

Il mondo nuovo

ascoltare: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rtviy7GioSE&feature=channel

"è meglio una delusione vera di una gioia finta"

Sempre que me sinto presa dentro al buio che avanza, tem uma coisa que viene a dare luce al mio giorno. 
Pero poi arrivi tu, ti siedi dove vuoi e butti giù la mia malincolia di vivere e tutto sembra possibile per me.


Adoro essa canção e tem poderes mágicos su di me.
Quando respeito minha paixão por ele, sem questionar, o italiano salva o dia. Dá um sopro de ar na minha alma, me dá direção "daemônica" como diria alguém que conheço...
Se começo a dissecar esse sentimento, tentando entender, tentando encaixá-lo no mundo prático e pragmático, o sentimento se dissipa e só me resta fragmentos de algo que começa a arder no auge de seu não-sentido.

E adesso sto rissalendo, per favore non fermarti ora!


Quem sabe a meta maior desse ano novo poderia ser, respeitar minhas loucuras e ouvir sua voz com mais permissão?
O que tenho a perder, do outro jeito não estava dando muito certo, não é?

I spent the weekend in a place where the theme spirituality was very strong, spirituality and the search for "truth", and it got to me in a very deep place. In the place where I walked away from my religious beliefs because they no longer comforted me or made sense in my life. In the place where I walked away wanting something else, accepting the risks implicit in so doing. I felt scared this weekend as I saw these people so carelessly flowing through their religious connections.

I kept wondering, where did that piece of me go?

I know I make contact with it when I write, which is probably why I do it so much and so often.
When I write I listen to what's going on inside and then something breaks through, something comforting.
It's more a need than a want.
I get all over the place, like scrambled eggs or water that spills onto the floor. Then I start writing and it's like taking a mop or turning the eggs into a nice little sandwich. And eating it.

Or something like that.