I've had the time of my life...

It was so so awesome that I had to post here the video 'cause I'm still speechless and can't describe it. Kidding, I'm almost never speechless but I really think a video is worth a thousand words. I'm the one on the right, front row, yellow dress. Unfortunately, it is not possible to spot my boy 'cause he wasn't on the front row and he's not tall at all to be easily spotted, hehe.

Next year I'll certainly do it again!

Specially to Mark

Gatoooooooo!

Just to show you the dance I'm gonna present in the end of the year! Wish you were here to be my dance partner! ;-)



It won't be exactly like that, obviously. But the "rueda", from minutes 3:10 to 3:55 is almost the same. Be proud of your Gata Gustosa, my friend!

Reality bites

Then, even though I like him, I had to let him go. I have to, since, apparently, we haven't actually let each other go. We talk. And talk again. And we both agree that it's not the time for turning our relationship into something official. And we both agree we're TOO different and that would get on our way in the future. But we can't stop talking. My heart still beats faster every time I see him. And I still look silly whenever he's around me. And he still acts silly when I'm around. It's pathetic, mainly because we both pretend we're cool. Exactly because we both agreed we should refrain things for a bit. In the normal people world, refraining wouldn't mean to speak every day nor act the way we act with each other. Refraining would be the opposite of that, actually.

I told him today that I don't understand what's going on with me. If he were any other guy I'd already had broken up - for good. I wouldn't still laugh whenever he makes jokes after I say something serious because that gets on my nerves - but still, I end up being like the most patient and comprehensive woman on Earth. Why? Not sure even if a psychologist would explain that. And it's not love (musical pause 1: The Smiths singing "if it's not love, then it's the bomb, the bomb, the bomb, that will keep us together"). No, no, no (musical pause 2: Amy Winehouse singing loudly her "NO, NO, NO" on Rehab). It's not because I know what is love (musical pause 3: Haddaway (you can laugh, I'm laughing) singing "What is love, baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more"). Yes, I know. And this definitely isn't. But I can't say I haven't fallen for him. Or am falling.

So I had to let him go and I have to let him go but it just doesn't feel right. I mean, the right thing is to finish this story. This is being SENSIBLE. Where would this thing go? Where this would lead us? He doesn't want anything serious now. I want. Or at least I want to feel that there's some kind of future. A proper relationship with trips on the weekends, me at his place, him at my place, a looo-oooo-oooot of sex, companionship, meeting friends, etc etc etc. Things that we may even have now, but it's not enough. For instance, he knows my mother, but not officially. I know his mother and she doesn't like me at all. In a proper relationship in Camiland that'd be unacceptable. Because in Camiland parents try to be nice to girlfriends/boyfriends because they want their sons/daughters to be happy. My mother thinks my "relationship" is a joke and his mother thinks I'm going to corrupt her "baby" son or something like that.

Couldn't things be simpler? Couldn't things be MY WAY? My way he'd be older and not panic with the word "relationship". My way, my way...

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me... And I'm feeling good!

It's been a long time since my last post, I know. A lo-ooo-oooo-ooot of things happened in this meantime but I think the most important one is:

I survived.

For me, this second semester is definitely NOT 2008 anymore. It's 2008 part II. 2008 b. I forbade destiny, fate, God, the Force - whoever or whatever that keeps the Earth spinning and things happening - to make anything else bizarre to happen in my life for the next 3 years. I'm serious. You'll say blablabla we can't control this kind of thing blablabla - and I know it. But it's worth trying, right? Trying an agreement with these "powers" above and show that all that I went through this year was ALREADY enough. I have suffering material for years so I REALLY wish I could have a happy 2008b and 2009.

Thanks.

Actually I'm having a good 2008b. Somehow I could overcome at least part of all that fatherhood drama. I obviously have inner things to solve and it's expected that I have them - finding out about the father 29 years after being born is not something easy - and that would easily be two years in psycotherapy. The whole story is way too bizarre to be posted, but after I found out who my father was I found out he's already dead. More some years in psycotherapy. Then I was robbed and after I lost my job. Psycotherapy forever.

But as I said in the last paragraph, somehow I found a way to overcome at least a little bit of all these things. And I have new students, I teach in a new company, I'm happy with my new life. And to celebrate this new life and start my 2008b truly happy I chose Muse concert as my New Year's Eve and starting point for a whole NEW ERA. It was certainly the right choice. It was a very very emotional concert for me, I let myself get carried away and cried a lot during the presentation but who cares, it was my moment. The friend who was with me, certainly one of the best friends a person could have in the Universe, understood how I was feeling and held my hand in some songs (Feeling Good, certainly the song that made me cry A LOT) and jumped with me in other songs (Time is running out - our favorite!!!).

After my special New Year's celebration, that I totally deserved, I've been just trying to live one day after the other. Only that. No big plans, no worries about career, no big concerns. I'm just happy about not freaking out, about still being sane without taking any medicine, about my friends, about my no-strings-attached-yet-we're-together relationship ('im even ok with the fact that I know it won't last much but I really won't talk about this now), about my dance classes. I'm having a salsa presentation in december with my colleagues from the dance course and I'm very excited about it! I'll be on stage, I'll be dancing one of my favorite styles, I'll be surrounded by people who I like. It may sound cheesy, but these are the things that truly make me happy. Besides, a friend of mine said he's going to watch the presentation holding a big banner saying "I love Mexerica" - could he be any cuter? (Mexerica means tangerine and this is one of my nicknames. I'll tell why in another opportunity)

Needless to say I matured 5 years in 3 months. Also needless to point out that it is true that after the "storm" you look back and see how much you've learned with all the shit that happened. Duh. This is very obvious and I hate when people keep repeating all that Pollyanna crap. What I can truly say about all this is that I found out that I'm MUCH stronger than I thought I was. Sometimes I actually feel that I became a little bit insensitive - but again, I'll tell why in another opportunity. Another thing I can truly say is that my friends are the best. I wouldn't have survived without them.

Guess I can say that 2008b has been a great great year so far.

Me and my friend ecstatic, tired and very smiley after Muse played "Time is Running Out"!

ps: I don't know if my danish friends still read this, but guys, if you do I have to tell you: I miss you like hell!!!!! Come back to Brasil!

One more post, please

Then my life's messier than ever. And after three months of feeling that I'm sitting on Devil's lap, my concept of what is grieving has drastically changed. I used to be a drama queen trainee in Drama Queen Inc., now I just feel like saying to my life: "bring it on, baby!" when other sad/disastrous events come up.

First day of my life videoclip

I'm basically unemployed. I have money to survive to July, August's a mistery. I spent my week thinking about different ways of blowing the HR bitch's head, who dismissed me and other 3 teachers over the phone, from distance. With a blink of an eye. I think life's never been so difficult, so stuck, so complicated. And when I get home I just don't feel like home. Great success. I'm really trying not to panic and I've been achieving good results; however, sometimes I just cry over the silliest things, like this videoclip.



So "awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww", isn't it?

It made my day better.

Next step: buy stuffed animals and hug them all while watching "Bambi".

NOT.

I believe in musical orientation

He's got lame musical taste. Terrible. The first time I was in his car, he gently said:

"Pick a CD for us to listen"

The following moments were painful - seriously, his CD collection brought tears to my eyes, tears of sorrow (drama queen mode on) - and I couldn't say anything like "GOSH THESE CDS ARE A BUNCH OF CRAP" because it's not nice and he can't be blamed for his taste. He's young and still have plenty of time to be rescued from that world of noises that him, his friends and 90% of brazilians call music. I'm obviously being very tolerant here and I'm obviously not referring to samba or to good brazilian music. I'm talking about shitty rock n'roll. Brasil has excellent musicians, unfortunately the good ones are not well known. Popular brazilian rock is horrible. Songs are all the same, lyrics are the poorest and this mix results in something annoying.

Not to mention the very very popular brazilian music, Carnaval music, which is also poor and annoying, but when you're drunk is 50% nice. When you're drunk in the middle of a crowd with friends is almost nice, I'd say 90%. But this is the kind of music that you listen in a specific moment/occasion. It's not the kind of music one listens at home, to relax or to enjoy something good. So not at home, not to realx, not in the car.

Talking about cars, let's go back to my little situation. Open CD case, ANY possible to be chosen, my self control almost killing me. Then he said:

"You don't like any of those, right? You hate them, right?"

He knows me. God blesses him. And the magic of going out with someone who already knows you a little is: you CAN answer back 'cause he'll know it's just the way you are. And I said:

"Soooooorry, but I really don't like them! Any any of them! So, you pick one"

That's what I call democracy. He said I could bring my music next time and we'd listen. I said I'd record a special CD for him and he said he'll hate it and will listen to it only while I'm in the car, but he's lying. I also know him. And he was trying to pick on me. That's what boys do, right? I remember that some years ago I didn't care much about music and a guy brought me to the good side of life, introducing me to some good music. I can do that for my boy, can't I? I enjoy his company so much, we have fun together, he just needs musical salvation.

So, here I am, choosing tunes for his CD. Only the good old indie rock, to start off. After he falls in love with this one, I record another one, let's say, more open-minded - older songs, Amy, Duffy, Feist, Pink Martini, Funk Como le Gusta... And please, whoever reads this and thinks I'm being arrogant for talking like this about someone else's music taste, bear in mind it's not arrogancy, it's reality.

Selected songs, not all of them will go on this first CD:

Arcade Fire - Rebellion (Lies)
Arctic Monkeys - Dancing Shoes
Arctic Monkeys - Fake Tales of San Francisco
Arctic Monkeys - I Bet that You Look Good on the Dancefloor
Cake - Short Skirt, Long Jacket
Cake - Never There
Cake - I Will Survive
Franz Ferdinand - Take me Out
Franz Ferdinand - This Fire
Franz Ferdinand - Michael
Franz Ferdinand - Do You Want To
Kaiser Chiefs - Na na na na na
Kaiser Chiefs - Everyday I Love You Less and Less
Le Tigre - Deceptacon
Libertines - Can't Stand me Now
Muse - Sing for Absolution
Muse - Time is Running Out
Muse - Starlight
Muse - Black Holes and Revelations
Muse - Knights of Cydonia
The Beach Boys - Wouldn't It Be Nice
The Fratellis - Whistle for The Choir
The Killers - For Reasons Unknown
The Killers - When You Were Young
The Killers - Somebody Told Me
The Killers - Smile Like You Mean It
The Killers - Mr. Brightside
Te Rapture - Pieces of the People We Love
The Rapture - Don Gon Do It
The Strokes - Last Night

Any suggestions? Please, tell me!

(Yes, I love Killers and Muse. Muse is coming to Brasil next month and I simply can't wait!)

Dream a little dream of me

I have this creepy-weird thing about dreams. Like, I dream about someone and in the next days the person shows up saying that needed to talk to me. Or missed me. It already happened that I dreamt with a friend and when I checked my emails in the morning, BAM! an e-mail of him. Some years ago this thing was so strong specifically with one friend that, whenever she appeared in my dreams, in the next day I'd call her and already ask: "what happened, I dreamt about you". And there was always something.

I can't explain this. And I try not to think of it because I know it is something that cannot be explained and if it cannot be explained I have difficulties in handling it. So I just face it as something weird, just more one of the weird things in my so called life. I'm sure Freud would have something to tell me but he's dead and psychiatrists are expensive. Mediums would also have some kind of explanation, but I'd rather not think about karma and all this spiritual stuff.

The creepiest dreams are the ones that happened, in some way, some days later. Silly situations, but still, you're there, living your life and suddenly you remember that something very similar already happened some days ago - in your dreams. I really don't like it. It could be déja vu, I know, but it's not. And yes, I've already researched about déja vus and how they happen inside our brains.

Last night I dreamt about this guy who I used to love. I'd say he was the only one who I loved. I'd also say that what we had is one of those stories that change your life forever and remains forever in your heart - even if you never see this person again. Needless to say he's special. Needless to say I care about him and know he cares about me - in his own way. Well, in this dream he showed up and said he's getting married.

And I really don't know what to think about it. I mean, I wish him all the happiness in the world, but I can't help thinking that he'll call me on the MSN and say that he's getting married.

How creepy could that be, huh?

My reasons to visit Denmark

My good danes are leaving. Actually, there are only two left here in São Paulo - but they'll be gone soon. Needless to say I already miss them all. My constant companies in the last months, my gardian angels who carried me when I was passed out in the middle of a samba school, my good friends who supported me, made me laugh, danced with me, were by my side and made me get drunk. How could I not love them?

Copenhagen 2009, here I go!

Escape Valve

Dexter's been my company since yesterday. He's a serial killer with a serious code of honor - he "just" kills other serial killers who kill innocent people. He has no feelings for anybody or anything, he's seriously psichologically damaged and he fakes all human interactions in his life. When I say all I REALLY mean ALL. But still, what an adorable company! I'm completely in love with this series. I planned my day today based on it. I planned my day tomorrow based on it. I have to go out with a friend in some minutes because it's his farewell (can't talk about it now otherwise I'll get sadder) but it's a proof of love and friendship: I don't work tomorrow and I could spend all night long oh yeah baby watching Dexter.

Watching something very catchy is what I do when I want to escape from the reality. My life's been messier than ever and I truly needed something other than going out and partying to pull myself together. Dexter's been helping me to keep myself content. Thanks, Dex! Now go find out who's the ice truck killer - and finish him!

Believe me or not, this real life Ned Flanders is, actually, Matt Damon. This is how he'll look in his next movie, The Informant. It should be forbidden that good-looking, charming and hot actors, who are always in my dreams of naughty nights under the sheets, play characters where they look something between Donald Trump and a nerd pedophile. Anyway, he's still one of my muses. With Village People mustache or not, he's still Matt, the guy with a name that sounds very interesting for me. Don't ask me why, it makes sense only in Portuguese. I'd still marry him, despite the hair and the mustache. 'Cause a girl must stand up for what is right, and what could be "righter" than Mr. Damon kissing me? Can't think of anything else. In case you're wondering what I'd do about this hideous mustache, the answer is simple: electric shaver as a wedding gift. Plus a card saying that my biggest fantasy of all times is a "mustacheless" (haha) man. Done! Perfect Matt back again!

Almost 30 fucking years - Part I

I'm gonna borrow some words from people who express themselves much better than me. And, even more than that, they could find words that I couldn't find to say things that I simply can't talk about. At least now. You know, I've waited my whole life for this. My WHOLE life. As far as I can remember, the revelation I got today is one of the things I yearned for the most in my life. The truth is heavy. Almost unbearable. The truth hurts.


I could hurt you now
(Aimee Mann)

This is for the one who was false
Who taught me about building walls
One who could always turn it around
To leave me here on shaky ground
This is for the one who made good
In someone else's neighborhood

One who was never anything but
The shifty eye of sheer bad luck
Once I thought that I would never forget
And I have not quite done that yet

But I could hurt you now
I could hurt you now
This is for the time that I lost
The death of who I thought I was
The things in which I cannot believe
For fear I'll wear them on my sleeve
Things I know that will never be returned
But I crossed that bridge before it burned

So I could hurt you now
I could hurt you now
I could hurt you now
I could hurt you now
Maybe it leaves an invisible scar
But I have not come quite that far but
I could hurt you now
I could hurt you now

Almost 30 fucking years - Part II

How could anybody possibly know how I feel?
(Morrissey)

(...)
But even I, as sick as I am,
I would never be you
Even I, as sick as I am,
I would never be you
Even I, sick and depraved,
A traveller to the grave
I would never be you
I would never be you.

Almost 30 fucking years - Part III

And now, for something that is not completely different, a little bit of hope.

Hang on Little Tomato
(Pink Martini)

The sun has left and forgotten me
It's dark, I cannot see
Why does this rain pour down
I'm gonna drownIn a sea
Of deep confusion

Somebody told me, I don't know who
Whenever you are sad and blue
And you're feelin' all alone and left behind
Just take a look inside and you will find

You gotta hold on, hold on through the night
Hang on, things will be all right
Even when it's dark
And not a bit of sparkling
Sing-song sunshine from above
Spreading rays of sunny love

Just hang on, hang on to the vine
Stay on, soon you'll be divine
If you start to cry, look up to the sky
Something's coming up ahead
To turn your tears to dew instead

And so I hold on to his advice
When change is hard and not so nice
You listen to your heart the whole night through
Your sunny someday will come one day soon to you

Life's impermanent

From Wikipedia:

"A virtuous circle or a vicious circle is a complex of events that reinforces itself through a feedback loop toward greater instability. A virtuous circle (or virtuous cycle) has favorable results, and a vicious circle (or vicious cycle) has deleterious results. A virtuous circle can transform into a vicious circle if eventual negative feedback is ignored."


Usually life happens deviously. We never know what is going to happen or what is going to change or, going further, where it's gonna stop. By "It" I mean this bitch we call life. 'Cause sorry if I hurt your optimistic and pollyanish views about it, but something that is worth of trust presents some kind of permanence, perpetuity, durability, imperishability (yes, I know how to use a Thesaurus). How could you possibly trust something that changes completely from today to tomorrow? That's almost a woman PMSing - you never know what's about to show up: would it be the crying needy girl or the bitchy moany whining monster? The problem is that besides being untrustworthy and devious, life sometimes decides to play tricks on us, poor human race. That's where the virtuous/vicious circles say hello to everybody. That's funny how situations may happen twice after years and then happen again after more years. It seems that either life wants to show that you're dumb enough not to having learned anything from the first time and forces you to go through a similar situation again as in "it's now or never you moron" or that Karma thing is really true and you simply have to go through that ordeal from time to time. By ordeal I mean any kind of dilemma: professional, amouréuse, whatever. Then you remember: "oh, this has already happened to me". But the decision you took one year ago is not the same kind you need to take now because even though the situations are similar and you're living in some sort of virtuous circle, life, that bitch, has changed. And so have you.

Last year I wrote a text where I say that life's very impermanent. I'm not going through exactly the same situations this year, some things have, thank God, changed. But the paragraph that talks about impermanency is so true. Life may change in a second and you may be caught short-handed and not have the faintest idea about what to do. But then you stop. Cry. Think. Curse again. And decide. Then just adapt. Or readapt. Or reinvent yourself.

Unfortunately I can't say that "My way" would be having God choosing for me. I already believe in destiny, that's enough. Our choices are of our own responsibility and knowing how to cope with them is the only possible way of turning life into less of a bitch and more of a Grandma with a plate of warm cookies, as I've written in another text.

So, that's it. Yes, life changes suddenly. Yes, the things you believed to be certain are not, never. Yes, life can be interesting, despite deviousness and circles and repetitions and impermanence. And, finally, yes, life's a bitch, but, let's be honest: it's better a bitch than a nun.

YAY! Paper!

Some people like french fries with ice cream. Other people can't put their socks on without counting their toes before. Some people are so crazy about soccer that they barely breath during a soccer match. No, actually some not only breath as also scream, yell, shout, curse, punch the floor, cry. Because of eleven men running after a ball. Super cool. I know some people who wash their hands every 10 minutes or so. Others like to listen to Michael Bolton tunes - pretending to be him.

Me?

I like paper stores.

My drawings are childish and I'm nor artistic at all. But still, I could spend a long time (not hours, just to be very clear) testing pens, looking at all those brushes, papers and checking out all the stationery items that have always caught my eyes. I've always liked paper stores, since I was a kid. Of course I love book stores and I have this girlie "cliché" thing for shoe stores and clothes stores. But I feel really good when I'm in a paper store, surrounded by... well, papers of all colors, checking out all the new cute notebooks in the market of notebooks.

Because of this apparently weird taste of mine I had this conversation last Saturday:

"You know a kind of store that I really like? Besides make-up and shoes?"
"Tell me..."
"Paper stores."
"WHAT?"
"Yeah, paper stores."
"But do you draw?"
"No."
"Are you an artist and I didn't know?"
"Nope."
"So WHY paper stores?"
"Because it's nice, all those colorful pens... I feel good."
"I can understand why... YAAAAY PAPERS!"
"Hey, don't mock me! I've met other people who like paper stores too."
"Where have you met them? In paper stores?"
"No, in life..."
"Alright. I bet it was in a FREAK MEETING of FREAK PEOPLE who like paper stores."
"I'm not a freak!"
"PA-PERRR!"
"Ok, stop. Let's go to the bookstore, you want to buy some books and I'm gonna show you two of my favorite authors."
"No, thanks. I can't trust a woman who likes paper stores."
"You can trust my literary taste. It's really very good. I suck at Math but I'm a good reader."
"No. PAPER. STORE."

If people have the most different tastes for the most different things, why is it so weird that I like all the colorful items in a paper store?

That's why in my way things would be something like this:

"You know a kind of store that I really like? Besides make-up and shoes?"
"Tell me..."
"Paper stores."
"Seriously? That's cool. Actually, that's very authentic!"
"Yeah, I know. And because of that you deserve a kiss!"

See? Compliment and kiss, this is the portrait of a beautiful scene.

(And after writing this I conclude that women will always be girls, men will always be boys, no matter where and no matter how old they are. Not that I'm old - you know that I'm still young and sweet, only twenty nine. Anyway, "my way" is cute because it has a kiss and kisses are always welcomed, but the truth is that the original dialogue was pretty cool. I like having that kind of conversation. Or argument. Or silly talking. And, let's face it, men are usually very good at picking on girls, women are good at... I don't know. Answering back? Pretending we're pissed? Anyway. You understood.)

Watch it now!

:~~~~

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Page 179

(...)
What are you doing here? he wrote with his hands.
I felt suddenly shy. I was not used to shy. I was used to shame.
Shyness is when you turn your head away from something you want.
Shame is when you turn your head from something you do not want.
I know you are leaning, I said.
You have to go home, he wrote.
Ok, I said. I did not want to say what I needed to say.
Let me take you home.
No. I don't want to go home.
He wrote, You're being crazy. You're going to catch a cold.
I already have a cold.
You are going to catch a colder.
I could not believe he was making a joke. And i could not believe I laughed.
(...)

This is probably the best definition for shyness EVER. I have these shyness attacks sometimes and I think nobody notices because I'm usually very talkative, so who'd think that such a motor mouth would have shyness attacks? Well, I do. And I don't like them.

Changing the channel, I highly recommend "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer. Oskar Schell, a nine-year-old boy too much nerd to survive in school lost his father in the September 11th tragedy. One day he finds a key on his father's shelves and starts a quest for finding to whom that key belongs in an attempt to keep the memory of his father and also maybe finding out more things about his own past. All the boy's outsider feelings are there, as well as his struggle in (in? at? to? I'm lost) looking for the owner of the key and survive in a "fatherless" world. Beautiful, beautiful book.

The sex(y) and the zouk

(don't read if you're a radical catholic who thinks sex is a sin. Visit here and have fun.)

I was in my dance class trying not to make a fool of myself daning the zouk. Zouk is a dance that, if you're not dancing, you'd define it as a mix of the old lambada with some sort of courtship dance. If you look closer, I mean, if you really pay attention and have a little bit of a twisted mind you'd say that it's more of a copulation dance than a courtship dance. Although both mean basically the same, let's face it: copulation sounds way dirtier than courtship. Well, I belong, of course, with the second group. So, if I truly think it looks like some kind of pre-copulation ritual and I don't see this as something, let's say, positive, why the hell am I dancing to this rythm? Simple answer: I love dancing. Any kind of dance. If you tell me that I'll have to learn an old african ritual dance, I'll be into it. Besides, zouk looks strange when you're just watching it but it feels awesome when you're dancing it. My only problem with the zouk is that you must dance CLOSE. Like feel-your-dance-partner's-chest-and-thighs close, but that is acceptable. The problem is that some guys dance a feel-your-partner's-liver close, which is a little bit disturbing for me. I really think that when you dance with someone and REALLY connect, it can be a great foreplay - if you let it happen, of course. I'm the kind of girl who likes to choose carefully the guy I want some foreplay with, you know... So when I have to dance zouk and the guy grabs my back and brings me close to his, I don't know, lungs, I feel a little bit awkward - mainly because most guys in my dance classes are, let's say, not very attractive (in MY humble opinion).

So, back to the beginning after this long prologue: I was trying not make a fool of myself dancing the zouk during my class. I was dancing with a guy who's there to support the teachers. He's a GREAT dancer, a great teacher, the one responsible for me not giving up on this crazy and DIFFICULT dance. He taught me the correct way to spin and if you learn that, you're able to learn any step. The point is that, as I've mentioned before, zouk is sexy. That's why it seems more like a copulation dance. The couple must interact in a way that looks like a body seduction game - which means that BOTH move their hips side-to-side-non-stop-oh-yeah and look to each other and, well, seduce each other. Lots of cambrès, lots of hair thrown up and down, side to side, in the end your hair is so messy that not even a fork can tidy it up.

Usually I don't do any of these sexy interaction things. I move my hips (I'm brazilian, I'm supposed to know how to move my hips, right? It's genetic), I throw my hair all around (that part is NICE) and I can try all the cambrès. But don't ask me to be sexy or to act sexy or to make a sexy look. I'm unable to do that if I'm not dancing with a guy who I want to... well... dance a mix of "Sexyback" and "Summer Love" (1:53 to 1:56, wow) with in bed. Ha. Then I was dancing yesterday with this very good and sweet and not attractive dance partner (I feel horrible for saying that, but truth always hurt) and everything was going perfectly. I was feeling like the zouk queen, although I guess this is a title that doesn't exist. I was the dancing queen, young (YES) and sweet (irony), only twenty nine when my dance partner, who had taught me lots of new steps in yesterday's class, tells me:

He: Perfect, Camila, really nice! Now you have to work on your sexy skills. Let's try, you have to move your hips side to side, only that, and follow me looking at me, chasing me.
Me: *BURST INTO LAUGHS* Me? NOW? Sexy? No way! *burst into laughs, again*

I know, shame on me. What am I, twelve? What kind of dance learner am I? I'll tell you: a lame one. LAME. So I moved my hips and followed him around and looked at him, but I wasn't sexy at all. At a certain point I had to go around him then put one my hands on his head and slide it 'til his neck. HOT. Hot? Not really, I felt clumsy.

:-(

That's where "My way" begins. Because in my imaginary world, it would've happened like this:

My dance partner would be someone like Justin Timberlake. Because he's so damn sexy. Like, really, really, really sexy³. Guess I was clear enough about his sexyness. So, I'd be dancing with Justin, the Zouk God. And he would NEVER had to TELL me to be sexy, because, in fact, I'd be a natural. It'd be a piece of cake. I'd be some sort of Sexy Zouk Goddess, that would perfectly match with Justin, the Zouk God. He'd be my soul zouk mate. He'd be my Patrick Shwayze in "Dirty Dancing" - ohhh I've had the time of life, no I've never felt this way before. And we'd dance perfectly seductive and sexy, with all the hip moves and sexy looks and hair all around and hands sliding around his neck. We would redefine what is CLOSE and what is dancing CLOSE. People would envy us because never in zouk history a couple had danced so perfect together *sighs*. I wouldn't dance with anyone else and all dance classes would end up in... Well. Would end up incredibly well.

That's it.

My way is naughty, I know. But still: is so much better than my real life.

Why my way?

That's simple: because my way is soooo much better. At least better for me, and that's what all the world is about, isn't it? Me. No? Ok, at least I've tried. But you must agree with me in one point: my world is important to me as your world is important to you and so on. I mean, we're not just anthopocentric: we are ourselves-centric. Camilacentric (that's me). Felipecentric (my dear friend who's been following the great creation of this blog). Youcentric. We all do things our own ways - no matter how demanding your boss is or how much you wimp out and don't do what you want to do: we choose what is best to us, not to our neighbors, co-workers, bus drivers or human kind in general. The biggest problem of it is that the screenwriters of our lives - which you can call God or Bhudda or Master Yoda - usually DON'T choose the ending we want to most of the shitu... situations we go through. 'Cause that's how it works: we choose what we want to do, we take the necessary action and TA DA! Nothing goes the way it was planned in your head. Yeah, I know, that's unfair. But that what's life's supposed to be: unfair.

That's why I've decided to start up this blog. Not only to practise my English and have my foreign friends reading it, but also because here I am the boss. I choose the endings I want to the stories that happen with me. Here you'll find everything that should've been. That would've been if life was less of a bitch and more of a grandma with a plate of warm home-made cookies and a cozy smile. Or less of a bitch and more of Matt Damon or Gael García Bernál naked holding a bottle of whipped cream. And a cozy smile. Life would be better these ways, right? Well, from now on, my life, at least on my mind and here, will be much better too. And I'll do all the endings my way.

But more, much more than this... I did it my way!

Here I am, with my perhaps... fifth blog. Or sixth. First one in English, though. I'm an English teacher here in Brasil and I started to feel the need of practising my writing, since during the classes I just correct compositions, never write them. That's funny, because sometimes I have to bribe or threaten my students so they write at least one single paragraph. Before you start thinking that I'm a horrible teacher, let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Sarcasm. Say hello to him. Now that I made my point and you know that I don't offer money, chocolate nor my precious body in exchange of a simple composition, I can continue. So, that's funny that my students, who are all adults and supposedly responsible, almost cry their eyes out (is there this expression? If there isn't, I've just made it up) when it comes to doing written exercises. And here I am, voluntarily writing and studying - am I not busy at all? Should I find myself a boyfriend instead of spending my time watching the days go by and writing texts? Don't think so. This is part of my nerdy spirit and the nerdy spirit will never die. And to tell you the truth, usually the guys I go out with are usually a bit nerd - so if I find myself a boyfriend, he'd probably, I don't know, read everything and meddle in my texts or change this (lame) nice layout. I wish my students were BLESSED (capital letters to emphasize my irony) with an itty bitty bit of my nerdyness.

Anyway, here I am, already writing too much. Welcome whoever reads this, feel free to comment and give your opinions. Take your shoes off, grab a beer, make yourself at home. Just please, don't get naked because this is a very respectful and serious blog. Thanks.