I fell in love with tumblr. I really did. something so beautiful...i had to. it was writen in the stars. haha

now i have an account there: http://thecatkilledcuriosity.tumblr.com/ and i'll surely will not post here much. or never again.

byesis. see you someday

you're all messed up

I love small sentences.

see, it's like we're separating thoughts.

very different thoughts.

random thoughts.

that you will not understand.

you'll just find it weird.

while i laugh about it.

in your face.

because of your face.

fuck it. you're just adorable.

I'll keep on waiting

waiting
waiting
waiting on you. you fool.

not really. I gave up.


i'm just waiting for my new camera.

still, decisions, decisions, decisions

who wants to sleep in a city that never wakes up?

Tenho andado com esta na cabeça.

I wrote a little poem

but I don't know where it is
i might have put it in my pocket
along with my keys.

it is meaningless
to you
and all i can write
is an haiku.

oh me brain

I feel silly when I write in portuguese. Like I'm obliged to say something utterly eloquent, all the time. It's stupid, I know, but that's how i feel so i'm writing in english again. Plus, I haven't been reading much and the words are starting to fail me. Ah, also, I heard someone saying that reading makes you creative. I'm in no mood for creations.
Nor thinking. At all.

It's just...so much easier not to.

well, i hope this is my 'tiredness' speaking.

and then i thought

I was reading some blogs around the internet and realised why I'd always delete mine or just gave up on them.
They're three hundred thousand times better than what i have, than what i write.
At least, they all look better than this to me.

Note to self: look for self-esteem. probably somewhere in the trash can.

sou bué profunda.

não gosto de ti.
adoro-te.
não gosto de mim.
adoro-me.
não gosto do mundo.
adoro-o.
não gosto de actimel.
mas
adoro limonada.

só queria que percebessem como funcionam os sentimentos, caso não saibam. eu continuo sem saber.

mudam repentinamente, nem dás por eles. E isso é assustador. e na pior das situações estamos, quando não sabemos o que sentir. Por vezes isso faz-nos chegar ao ponto em que desistimos e não sentimos nada. tenho para mim que são escolhas.

Escolhas muito infantis. Deve-se enfrentar tais coisas, que até são coisas importantes. Agarrá-las pelos cornos, como se faz aos touros!

E olhá-las nos olhos e dizer:

'não é hoje que me fodes.'

'It's funny how'

sim, é engraçado. é hilariante. eu que não gosto que leiam o que escrevo tenho um blog com uns poucos posts. é giro. pouca gente sabe dele. tanto que acho que uma das minhas amigas ficou ofendida quando soube, eu nem lhe tinha dito nada sobre o dito. anyway, contei sobre isto a pouca gente. também não é assim tão interessante porque eu sou uma medricas e para alguém saber o que vai na minha cabeça é preciso conhecer-me muito bem.

tarefa difícil.

Animalidade

"Tudo se resume a uma dança de dois corpos, que se tocam e se consomem, mas que determinam barreiras, limites, dos quais se estabelece uma distância.

Não se entrega mais do que o corpo, a alma fica fechada e da chave só há um exemplar.

Dá-se vida aos instintos, e a animalidade predomina sobre aquilo que nos distingue: a racionalidade.

Não há junção de mais do que líquidos corporais e após a fome saciada não fica a restar nada.

Não há palavras a dizer, olhares a trocar. O trabalho está feito e o corpo agora pesa.

É fechar os olhos e esperar pelo próximo."

Não fui eu que escrevi este texto, daí as aspas. Quem escreveu foi uma amiga, a Inês. Espero que gostem, eu gostei. E sim, ela deu-me autorização para o postar.

Língua Portuguesa

Nunca, mas nunca me senti confortável a falar ou escrever em Português. Não sei porquê, vá-se lá adivinhar. Nunca me senti portuguesa. Cresci e ainda vivo num bairro social e isso só me fez foi mais inconformada. Nunca me integrei. Agradeço aos meus paizinhos por isso. Obrigada, mãe, pai, amigo imaginário, 'cês são os maiores.
Mas não é por causa disso que ando por aí a matar a língua como algumas bestas fazem, nomeadamente *inserir diversos nomes polémicos*.
Eu respeito-a, porque sou minimamente civilizada e irrita-me profundamente quando dão erros ortográficos (pode ser princípios de obsessão compulsiva). E já que é a língua materna do país onde vivo, tento saber dela.

Portanto escrevo maioritariamente em inglês. Essa é a minha língua materna. E é só isso, gostava que soubessem as razões merdosas.

ah! olha, um dos prazeres de saber português: as asneiras. Belas pérolas nacionais.

Pronto, esqueçam lá o inglês, faço tudo por uma boa sessão de caralhadas.

Music monday

I haven't had a monday for myself in a while. Finally. I had to cut from going to the beach with my friends but I don't have to go to everything all the time and I actually don't feel guilty, so that's a bonus.

and now:



Grace by Jeff Buckley. enjoy.

in my world

Sometimes I imagine myself in a sepia tone world:

I'm alone at home. The house is a loft, I've always wanted one, and i'm wearing this...beautiful flannel shirt, quite like the one i'm wearing right now, but not blue. Of course it's not blue, it's in sepia tone so it's somewhat brown and beije, very flowy and light. I'm also wearing tight dark jeans and I'm barefooted, like we would be on a beach.

Then, still with the sepia in mind, think of an almost empty room: it has a carpet, cushions to sit on, a chaise longe, a bed and a small kitchen on the side.

The carpet is enormous, covers the entire space, it's red and made of cotton so I feel comfortable walking on it;

the cushions are equally big, and puffy. There's 3 or 4 of them so I can put my clothes, cell and laptop on, I like having a messy and full place. They have a very clean eggish colour and are filled with feathers so the fluffiness inhances;

the chaise longe is for me to lay down while listening to calm music or just read. It's white, very white, a bright and bold white, like chaulk. I love it, it's my favorite thing in the loft;

the bed is a sommier, with a dark brown cover and baby yellow sheets. It's one of those giant king size beds they make nowadays, you know, and to jump on it makes you forget you're on Earth, like you're back to your childhood;

last but not least: the kitchen. A gorgeous, gracefully small kitchen with wood cabinets, a marble counter and a little rug in the middle. It connects with the rest of the house so the bricker-y walls are all the same colour: light brown. As you can see, I adore warm colours.

Almost forgot: there's a tv and a stereo and a...a record player, one of those that plays vinyls. My dad has 60 LPs that I'm dying to hear with every pour of my body and soul. Might be exagerating but i've been told that it sounds better than CD and curiosity will deffinetly kill me.

Anyhow, the TV is an LCD, 32 inches, and it's on top of the stereo, which is surrounded with lovely dark brazilian wood furniture, and on the side, the vintage greatness of the house: my old gold framed mirror.

There's a bathroom in the apartment but it's just like any other bathroom in the world so I won't describe it. OK, I can say this: it's silver.

The loft: grand by nature, like in every NYC building, it looks similar to a warehouse. As the walls are not empty, they have four, very large windows spread around the room, and one of them has a little balcony where i put some plants to seem like there's life on the street. On these walls there's also black and white photographs I took while in downtown Lisbon, to remind me of Portugal. Finally, on the ceiling there's two lamps that emmanate a bright orangey light when it's dark.

Now it isn't. I have all the windows uncovered and, as it is a brilliant summer day, the sun is shining brighter than my fluorescent nail polish.

I put the radio on. Grace by Jeff Buckley is playing. I start to swing at the sound of music, goofing with my flannel shirt as if it were a dress. Then I go to dance in circles, swinging and swinging, and put my feet like ballerinas put them. oops, I step on one of my cats (i have two), FurBall, and I pick it up to dance with me. The little one falls asleep in my arms and I stop and stare at it, in the middle of the carpet, with my blondish-looks-like-i-just-woke-up hair hanging and the sunshine bestowing us with an endeared look in my face. I smile out of joy. I'm thinking that's how I'd like to stay forever. Still.

Still in sepia. Still, like a photograph. Still, like a memory.

Still(,) like a dream.

Enjoy the Silence

Gosto do silêncio. Porque há sempre algum barulho para ser ouvido.
Silêncio nunca é silêncio. Porque as expressões faciais e corporais também falam.
Silêncio é estar calmo e parar para ouvir os outros.
Silêncio é ouvir a inspiração e a expiração.
Silêncio é finalmente conseguir ouvir a nós próprios.
Silêncio é paz.
Silêncio é barulho.
Silêncio é tudo o que nos rodeia.

Por isso, e muito mais, aproveita o silêncio e faz um favor ao mundo:

cala-te.

Last conclusion

Happiness equals peace.

Those people had peace. And beliefs of a future together, co-helping, co-living, sharing, everything peacefully.

A Utopia.

That existed. At least for 3 days.

Utopia is real after all.

All we need to do is want it. But the surroundings don't let us. We are what we're surrounded by.
Doesn't sound very good, does it?

That makes me hopeless and hopeful at the same time.

Happiness

That frustration post was a day where I was feeling pretty shitty, huh? Especially because I wrote that through my cellphone. Anyway, it was exam season and stress makes me think about everything but the thing I was stressing about. Does it make sense? I think not. Maybe it's not supose to.

But now, now I am happy. I'm happier than I have ever been in my life. I know happiness is momentaneous so what I'm feeling is joy. Joy to be alive, to live, not only to exist, to do whatever I feel like doing.

I also feel beautiful. It's a great feeling, have you ever felt it?

No? Then try being happy for a change.

Yes, I realized yesterday watching the woodstock '69 movie that there were so many beautiful people in America, in the fest. Came to the conclusion that beauty is happiness, it comes from happiness. Beauty is also in the details. And what could make us happier than the little things in life? EnJoy what you have before you lose it.

frustration

i was never able to hold on to a blog for long. When i'm pissed of, i usually have pretty good ideas. And from those ideas always come blogs, co-created ones. 4, to be more precise. It's frustrating so i'll try to write on this one as much as i can. I hope i don't give up on it as i did with the others. Kinda sad when the only thing you can't give up in life it's when you're addicted to it. Coughtwittercough