i opened pandora's box

I hate those weekends when I don't have anything planned to do because I always end up doing things that I shouldn't, like baking fat desserts, spending unnecessary money, going out with people I really don't care for just so I won't be at home (a lot of my friends I like hanging out with often work on weekends, so you get the picture.)

Since I had done option #3 about a month ago and it turned out to be a nightmare because the person I did not care for decided to spend the night at my apartment and stalked me for the rest of the week, I decided I would rather do something different, or even stay home. And that leads me to tonight and the big mess I have just made.

I introduce you to Pandora's Box --


This box contains everything that can possibly remind me of my last long term relationship. Cards, letters, photos, documents, chewed straws, and other small things of great impact. I packaged the box sometime in March, right after ending the relationship that lasted, on and off, 2 years and some months. I put everhting in there, sealed with lots of tape, and hid it somewhere out of my sight. My ex's name was Shawn - I mean, he's stillis Shawn somewhere I don't know where - and for a minute he was all I could see, or I think of. He was it for me and I was done looking, I was done dating. I was just satisfied, like that feeling you get after eating a nice, hearty, homemade meal. I was fulfilled, I had the guy of my dreams and there was not much more I could ask for. I had someone who knew me inside and out, someone who could look at me and knew what I had in mind, without having to say a word. I knew him just as much, but he was always giving me something new to work with, it was never boring, it was never the same. He never took me for granted, and I loved that, that I felt appreciated. He was one of those who would write you cards and letters, and call you early in the morning to tell you he loved you (he lived almost 3 hours away from me), and even when we couldn't be together I had no worries, because he would give me the kind of self-assurance, that feeling that even though he couldn't be here that weekend, there was nowhere else he would rather be.

But it was also one of those rollercoaster relationships, full of huge ups and downs. When it was good it was great, but when it was bad... oh, man, it was horrible. We put each other through hell and back, we drove each other insane and I personally played every type of game I knew of. At one point I felt so confident in what he felt for me that I would push him as far as I could to see how far he would go without breaking up with me. I took him for granted, I though I had him for life. But, of course, I didn't.

He started reacting to my dumb attemps to test him more and more, and more and more I would try to win him back. I would beg to reconsider, then he would beg me to forgive whatever stupid stuff he had done, and it was like that a hundred times, until it was over. The last I heard from him was sometime in March, when we were technically back together and had decided to work things out. Then I found out about another girl who had always tried to be with him, even when we were together. I started hearing a lot about her, I found out there was more to it, and couldn't get over it.

But back to Pandora's Box: I opened it tonight for the first time since the break up.


I re-read the cards and letters, I looked at the pictures, and now I am nothing short of a BIG MESS. I can't get over him. I just can't. I haven't really dated anyone ever since him, I can't make myself like anybody I meet, I just can't do it. It's like a fucking curse, and I'm sick of it.

Right after the split, I decided I wasn't going to call him ever again, but I had a lot to say, so I wrote him a letter that was never sent. I poured my heart out, wrote everything that I knew would hurt him the most, and I knew I would have to make myself hate him before I could move on, so I did. I hated him with passion for about 3 months. I couldn't stand the thought of him. But the more I get over the hatred, the more I find myself missing that man. And that brings me to tonight.

I really don't like blogging about that but this is stopping me from calling him, so oh well. He might not even have the same number, who knows. I know he moved, and he might even be with the girl who I found out about. She knows about me, and the last time I talked to him, I could hear her on the background and he told me he loved me in front of her. He was as sweet as can be, treated me like his girlfirend and said what he had to say to me in front on her, and that was the last time we talked. It ended like that, the weirdest thing.

When we met, I found him broken, after a really bad relationship with someone who had sucked the life out of him. He was cynical, he had been there, done that. But me, I was as fresh and untainted as could be. I stood up for him when he needed me to, I supported him through everything, even when his family wouldn't do it. I couldn't understand how someone could be so jaded, and he later changed a lot for me. One of the things I found in the box was the copy of a card I gave him when we first met, and were barely dating. I told him that he's too skeptical, that I would never want to make the list of people who disappointed him. I wanted so bad to convince him that not everybody was out there to hurt him, that it was ok to have faith in a new person. I didn't want to be blamed for all those horrible girlfriends he had before me.

It's sad to realize that THAT is me post-Shawn. I'm cynical, boderline bitter, and it's going to take a lot to break me. I have been bent and cracked in every way someone can possibly be. I have fallen off a few horses and ran into a few walls, so I have shut down that part of my life and replaced with an obsession for work and perfection. I have lost my "dating skills" and it bores me to tears to think that I will eventually have to get back to that world again to fall from new horses, and run into new walls.

Today I had lunch with my girlfriend E. Her guyfriend called her, and when she mentioned she was with me, he insinuated something, like he wanted to go out with me or some sort of guy thing.
E - talking to him: Yes, she's the brazilian girl... (hey, he's asking about you!)
Me, focused on my stake: So?
E:What do I say?
Me:I don't date anymore.
E: Oh.Sorry, she doesn't date anymore.

Link of the day

Enjoy and thank me later.


There's more where they came from. (Click on the images to read the small type).

Living on the edge

Today was nothing short of SCARY. Here's how the story started: yesterday I ended up leaving the office at around 8:30pm, only to go home with a bunch of printouts and a couple of boards to finish a presentation at home. I was up for a while mounting everything because our account execs had to be at a meeting early this morning with a potential new client. I finished pretty much everything before I left. I had the on-screen presentation saved to our server at work, I had the leave-behinds ready to go, but the boards were with me. I was supposed to get there this morning at 8 so I could talk to the account managers who were going to present the project. But then... I WOKE UP AT 8:40! I was almost 1 hour late already, plus a 20-minute drive, I had fucked up BIG TIME. I HAD THE BOARDS! We hadn't even gone through the presentation, and the meeting was the clients headquarters at 10!



I called the office and told them I would be there in 10 minutes. I put on the same jeans I wore the day before, because they were still thrown all over the floor. I brushed my teeth, didn't even brush my hair, and rushed out of the door with the boards. I couldn't even take my dog outside (of course the poor thing peed in the living room by the time I got home at the end of the day). I FLEW down the freeway and ended up arriving at work at 9:07, don't ask me how. I was so embarrassed and I could not believe myself. I could have completely ruined a new deal for the company single-handedly! Just because I ignored a freaking alarm! My second month at work and a major fuck up. The good thing is, most people at the office usually arrive at 9, and I actually got there with the 2 other designers. The fact that I have been putting in a lot of extra hours also helped. I had worked on Sunday and met a big deadline on Monday. I also had stayed really late the night before, so that made things not look as bad as they really were.

End of the story, the meeting went really well and they complimented me on my work, and we even went out to lunch. I suggested Side Street Deli, which they had never been to, and they LOVED IT! Luck was on my side - the food was great, there were 2 guys playing the guitar and the saxophone, very sultry and charming. They now think I have good taste.

I was one of the last ones to leave tonight, and before I walked out of the door, one of my bosses yelled "Have a night. Oh... AND GET SOME SLEEP!".

nuts

So yesterday my friend April from out of town was here for a quick visit. She had a wedding to go to, and asked me to babysit her 2 boys - a 3 month old and a 3 year old. I'm thinking "ok, piece of cake. I can handle two kids for a few hours". Well, let's just say that I have a newfound respect for mothers, specially single mothers like my friend April.

I'm exhausted. The baby cried pretty much the whole time, for no reason at all whatsoever. That's what he does, he cries. I fed him, changed his diaper, took of him clothes thinking that maybe we was hot, and nothing. He just cried, then screamed, then cried a little more. In the meantime, the 3 year old, Isaac is spilling all types of liquids and icecreams all over the apartment, hitting his head on every possible sharp corner, getting his finger stuck on every door crack he can find, pulling the dogs ears and tails (oh, did I mention I was also dogsitting a huge Chow for a friend of mine? Yeah). Now picture me with a crying baby drooling on my shoulder, a bleeding 3 year old running around, chasing a 50 pound scared dog around the apartment, and my dog peeing on the carpet right in front of me because I completely forgot to take him outside. That pretty much sums up my night.

Isaac resisted as much as he could and refused to go to sleep, so I told him we were going to lay down in the living room to watch cartoons. We watched the first season of the Boondocks.



And just so you won't think that I'm a dreadful babysitter, April got home around midnight and found both kids in bed, and me passed out on the couch.

Believe it or not, overall, we had fun yesterday. We ate really good japanese food, went shopping for a little while and I got to drive her brand new SUV. They left early this morning, and I just woke up to say goodbye. Then I passed out again, and and woke up at 1pm. I'm still recovering.

Now I'm getting ready to take a shower so I can go to the office for a few hours to get a presentation done for tomorrow. It's kind of cloudy outside and the day is perfect to stay in all day, but I really have to go.

Tomorrow I'm going to see Rick Valicenti's lecture at Herron. He is in town for 25 above water. Check it out if you can.

3 WORDS: I NEED HELP. NOW! PLEASE?

I know, I know, I did it again. Neglected my blog. Oh, well... the truth is, I've been busy with my newfound obsession: GREY'S ANATOMY. Now, how late am I?

I had never watched an episode until about a couple of weeks ago. My friend Kira used to watch it all the time, my coworkers would talk about it, and I never knew what it was about that show that had people so worked up. But I decided to get the DVD of the first season the other day.

OH.MY.GOD. Help me. I love it! I watched that DVD in one night, then got disc 2 with the rest of Season 1 episodes. Season 2 just came out last Tuesday, and I LITERALLY ran to Blockbuster to make sure I got my copies. 5 discs overall, about 5 to 6 episodes on each. (Let's make it clear that I'm watching the last episode of Season 2 as I type this, probably for the 5th time). It took me about 4 days, but I finished them all. I was going to bed at around 3am every morning, and I was exhausted all week because I could not make myself stop watching. Now I keep re-watching my favorite parts, and I am also loving the soundtrack. The thing is, Season 3 starts tomorrow and I feel like a kid the night before 1st day of school. I'm so anxious I could just slap myself! How pathetic is that?!

The funniest thing is that I actually met McDreamy, a.k.a. Patrick Dempsey, last May during the Indianapolis 500, while interning at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. I mean, he was RIGHT THERE 2 feet away from me for hours and hours, bumping elbows, making jokes, just hanging out. And I didn't ever bother to freak the fuck out! What is wrong with me. MCDREAMY! Why, God, why am I such a dummass??

I don't tend to obsess over anything on TV. Most of the time I'm so entertained with my computer, and work, and other things, that the only time I actually watch anything is really late at night, before going to sleep. But now I'm hooked. And I decided I'm getting cable again. Why deprive myself of the beauty of cable TV, when I could be having enlightning and education experiences following the Real World, What Not To Wear, Trading Spaces, Lucky Louie... Oh, so many options.

On another note - New plans: I'm going to NY for a weekend beginning of October. New job: going great. I work a lot, like the people, am learning a lot, and most of all, I get to afford cable TV.Yay!

Draft from Sunday, 09/17

This weekend I'm house/babysitting for a friend/former boss of mine. Right now, I'm sitting in front of computer that sits next to the door that takes you to a large deck, with trees, a running dog, a picnic table and other things that I wish I had in my community-shared backyard. I woke up around 10:35, open the extremely full refrigerator, checked the fully loaded pantry and made me a rich, suburban breakfast. This house has enough food to feed a small country. I'm having a great time. Yesterday I spend the whole day hanging out with Caroline, my friend's 9 year-old who is a riot. She's very independent and extremely witty not just for her age. She makes me feel kinda immature every once in a while. Yesterday we had lunch at a really nice Indian restaurant, then we both got pedicures, and she got very annoyed when the Asian lady giving her a pedicure called her 'the baby'. She also got mad because I was charged $30 and she was only charged $25. Go figure. Today we're going to the State Museum, the IMAX, and then we're having dinner with a friend of mine. AND I'm getting paid for this, can you believe it. Life is great in beautifull Danville.

10 fun things to do on labor day

1. learn how after a lifetime of messing with crocodiles, the crocodile hunter has been killed by a fish.

2. torture yourself by watching a turtle find its way down a flight of stairs.

3. watch daytime soap opera. Here's a beautiful scene I just watched: 2 people slept together only to wake up the next day and find out that they had sex with the the wrong twin. And both the guy and the girl had a twin.

4. pick up a week worth of dog poop that has been sitting outside in the yard because you don't want your neighbors to rally against you, and have you and your dog evicted for being disgusting.

5. go to Target to buy cleaning supplies, dog food, and $80 dollars worth of things that you absolutely don't need.

6. balance your checkbook.

7. watch the Boondocks on Youtube.

8. upload photos that have been trapped in your camera for the past month.

9. eat sugar free vanilla puddin for lunch because that's the only thing you have to eat at home besides some old mayo, rice and eggs.

10. learn ebonics. Ex: trifling - adjective; the act of being a total whore and not getting on the jang (not giving your man what he wants). Damn! I hate those trifling bitches!

love, kindness and the 12 galaxies

I am fascinated by real urban legends and the difficulty people have in explaining those characters: where they're from, where they live, and why they roam our streets doing what they do. I'm fascinated by their passion and organization with which they pursue whatever 'mission' they have, even if the tangible goal can only exist in their reality. They often develop some type of visual display by which they are easily recognized, and I'm drawn into the powerful and consistent systems that are a reasult of that.

In Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, for example, there was Profeta Gentileza (literally translates as "Profet Kindness") who was a small entrepreneur during the 50s. After 1961, when he was in his early 20s, he abandoned every material posession he had to only dedicate himself to a spiritual mission. He lived in the streets of Rio as a nomad for about 35 years wearing a long, potato bag type of gown, rocking a long Jesus beard, reaching out to the public by spreading messages of kindness and christian love. He would paint random words on the walls of downtown Rio and at other sites that have now become hot spots because of him. This year will be the 10th anniversary of his death. (Click on the images see larger size)


Profeta Gentileza - top middle: "kindess generates kindness". Bottom right sign: "this is profet kindess who spreads kindness lllllove beauty and richness to nature and god our father creator destroyed pppain and the devil"

Now, meet Frank Chu:

The other day while reading some blog, I learned about this other great personality - Frank Chu. He's a famous San Francisco eccentric that walks around the Bay area with signs composed of puzzling combinations of words and made-up terms, all surrounding the theory of the 12 galaxies. He protests 7 days a weeks, sun up to sun down, and his main mission is to spread the word on how Bill Clinton owes him about 25 billion dollars for a sort of "Truman Show" in which he is the star, that is shown all over the solar system with amazing success. He also wants to sue the CIA for not paying him and his family as movie stars, and he also claims that it has been discovered that all the years that he was medicaded in the past were the result of medical malpractice by psychiatrists connected to the CIA. This video can show you better than I could ever explain - believe me, you will thank me later.

my couch ate my phone

This morning (and by morning I mean 12:33pm) I woke up with my couch ringing. Yes, you heard it right, my couch was ringing, and it kept ringing until I decided to get up and answer it.

I came to the living room and my ringtone was coming from one of the couches in my living room. So I look everywhere, under the cushions, under the pillow, inside the cracks, and nothing. Then it rang again, and I followed the sound, only to find that my cell phone had been trapped inside the frame of the couch, in the deep darkness of the inside structure.

I tried to reach it by inserting my arm inside the space where the seat and the back meet, and nearly lost a limb. Desperately, I realized that the only solution would be to cut the back of the couch, and then I pondered what would be me bigger loss: to lose a couch or my cell phone.

It was a quick decision, and I sliced that bitch like there was no tomorrow.

freedom of jeans and the dumb little brazilian girls

This week has been a very good, busy, productive one, but I absolutely need it to be over. I can never make myself go to sleep before at least 2am, and that only adds up to 5 hours of sleep a night at most. Usually by Friday, when ideally someone should have slept 40 hours, I only slept 25, and you can clearly see it by the lack of make-up, the hair in a pony-tail that hasn't even been brushed, and the fact that I usually go out the door looking like I was blindfolded while getting dressed.

One of the things that I absolutely LOVE about the new job is that there is no dress code. My old job did, except for casual Fridays, when we could wear jeans. I had never been a jeans type of girl, and the first time I purchased a pair of jeans that I truly enjoyed wearing was in 2001, when I moved here. In Brazil is very hard to exist if you're bigger than a size 4, so clearly in my country there is a common belief amongst store owners and establishments in the apparel industry that if you're born with big hips and a not so slim waist you're not worth of owning decent clothing, let alone a pair of jeans. I remember growing up, my mom used to have clothes tailored for me and her because there was no way in hell we would find anything half-way presentable to wear, besides sweatpant and t-shirs. I ended up having a pretty sharp wardrobe by the time I was 18, and 80% was custom tailored for me by this lady who used to make sure to rub on my face that my butt was getting bigger by the visit. She would smack my behind and say "Girl, you 'bout to drive some man crazy with that big ol'butt you got!". I, of course, never took that as a compliment, and I used to find extremely annoying the fact that she thought I was too big for her to work with, but I would definately be a great meal for nasty construction workers.

Anyway, it is definitely a more comfortable experience being my size here in this country, because you're not constantly bombarded with the idea that your weight equals to that of 85 skinny brazilian girls combined. That used to bother me A LOT and I'm sure I have passed on a few experiences in the past because I just didn't feel like dealing with the looks of those girls who would stare at me as if they wanted me to realize that they were of a species more evolved than mine.

Now, for all I care, they can eat me because I have finally come to a point in life where I actually feel comfortable with myself enough to know that the size of my hips and the weight of my body is nobody's business but MINE. I would be lying if I said that I wouldn't love to shed some pounds, have a flatter stomach, and an ass that is about a quarter of the current ass I got, but even though it took me a while, I recently realized that somehow I have grown into someone who knows and believes that I'm SO much more than a stupid dress size.

And I wish the same for all those dumb little brazilian girls, while, of course, hoping that they asses reach size 24 by the time they are 30.