sometimes people ask me why i came back to brazil

Those photos are from our Christmas, and the images they're holding were my present to all of them. [more here]

a draft from 10/29/07

"Moving back to Brazil has been a long, tiresome rollercoaster ride. I packed a whole apartment that I had of my own and moved back to my parents' home, where I still have (and always will have) a room and plenty of support. I gave up a stable routine, a small but comfortable apartment that had my personality all over it, a nice car, amazingly loyal friends, and a job that allowed me to pay my own bills, and went from having to having-not. From being fully on my own to not even needing a set of keys when I leave the house.

I know this is sounding bad, as if I'm complaining, but what I'm really trying to say here is that coming back home took me more courage than than the courage I needed when I left to be on my own. Coming back came with a heavy price.

I'm having a lot of time to think, the kind of time that I don't wish to have right now. I feel an almost compulsive need to work nonstop, to occupy myself with things that require from me an almost scientific knowledge of problem-solving. I want all those possibilities to just leave right now. I want them to pack their shit and leave me here with simple and definite options. Like where what I want to do. Where I want to live, and how I want to live. I want days filled with solutions handed to me on a silver tray. Surprise me with the best choice. Brainfreeze me. Make me numb. Let me listen to music and not remember people and places. Leave me nostalgia-free. Vacate me for about a week. Move me forward, push me if you have to."

I wasn't very happy. Some things still bother me, but I'm more comfortable on my own skin. Somehow things worked out on their own, like they always do. I have reconnected with friends, I have a car, a job that I love, a great relationship with my family, and an improved self-steem. But the fact that I came back still blows me away. And I'm starting to get a little more nostalgic. You know, when you start remembering all those great things that weren't really "that" great? This simulacrum is usually what gets me in trouble.

home

Say what you want to say, Indiana is home to me. Indianapolis was a wonderful home during the 7 amazing years I spent there, and a HUGE part of me became a Hoosier. I don't like it when people put their ignorance on display by talking about how much they know about midwestern culture and the "middle american", as if they have actually deeply experienced that culture and place themselves. It's one of those things that really gets on my nerves. But that's another post.

I've been gone for a little over a year and the landscape of the city I have grown to love as my own is going through major changes. The RCA Dome is being imploded tomorrow morning. Its roof was inflated on September 24th, 2008. This video makes me want to cry, and that's one of the moments I realize I'm no longer just Brazilian.



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UPDATE (Dec 20, 2008):

highschoolfriends

Everyday I spend here I'm given a new reason to believe that coming back was a good decision. I'm regaining so much of my past, I'm remembering things I hadn't thought about in almost a decade. Turns out I haven't changed that much in a lot of ways.

"I missed your laughter", she said. "You still laugh the same way you used to. A good laughter". The girl on the right has no idea how happy that made me, especially after 10 years without seeing her. She remembers a part of me that I had forgotten.

Sometimes I feel like one lucky girl.

27

Today is my birthday and I'm turning 27. This is the first time that I feel closer to my thirties than I am of my twenties, and it's bitter-sweet. So I have decided to make a list of a few things to remind myself of how productive my twenties were. This is not intended to be a list of crimes I have committed, even thought some items might lead one to believe so. But let's keep in mind that this is a somewhat parent-proof list, so I might have been a little more productive that it seems.

1. Sold all my CDs to an used-CD store and borrowed the rest of the money to go to Los Angeles spend 4 days with my then boyfriend who had moved away.

2. Stayed at a motel called "Vagabond Inn" with then boyfriend at some ghetto in Long Beach, CA.

3. Spent $700 on a car on Wednesday afternoon and totaled it on Thursday morning.

4. Stopped taking my meds for almost 4 years because I thought I had cured my panic disorder.

5. Fell in love with and bent over backwards for a boy who had "INSANE" tattooed across his back. Literally.

6. Jumped on the road at 3 o'clock in the morning by myself, leaving Chicago at 95mph.

7. Bought a 30 lbs. dog in my first year in the US, and hid it for 6 months because the building where I used to live at the time did not allow pets.

8. Gave a old, ugly, and nasty-looking cop my cell phone number to get out of a ticket.

9. Had gastric bypass surgery.

10. Moved back to Brazil.

11. Went to school drunk. More than once. More than twice.

12. Accumulated almost $700 worth of parking tickets in a 4 year period. Had to pay it all off one snowy afternoon when my car was towed.

13. Almost got arrested on Memorial Day weekend in 2004. Here's the story: the Indianapolis 500 was going on down the street from my apartment. The police blocks 90% of the streets at a certain time so the crowd attending the race can get off on the highway only, and every road that led to my place was a dead end. It was storming badly, the tornado warning sirens were going off, and I could see a tornado from a small distance. So I decided to run over a road block and get home as fast as I could. Couldn't get home fast enough, so I had to hide a an Arby's kitchen.

my things

My big boxes from Indianapolis are here. I had them shipped to Brazil a few days before I left, around mid-October, and it took almost three months for them to get here. They came by ship, and traveled all the way from the New Jersey Port to Sao Paulo. I'm finally reunited with all my things - my books, my prints, my TV, my Fieldcrest towels, my favorite dishes, my Pier 1 wine-holder... ahhhhh. As much as I love having my family around, I miss my old place, my colored walls and my friends. I miss my friends terribly; sometimes it comes to me like a punch to the gut. Puppy keeps smelling the boxes as if he knew they came from "home". Crazy how things happen, huh?

this time last year

A lot has changed, clearly not just for me.

Puppy loves snow. His nose turns pink before the first big storm, and I used to have to beg him to come back home every time I let him out. He would dive his little face into that sea of white, while I stood inside under a pile of blankets. Weekends were the best. I miss snowy Saturdays when I could sleep in and didn't have to drag myself to my car and get rid all the snow sitting on top of it. I don't miss that part. I never got used to having to do that in the morning, I fucking hated that ritual. But other than that, I really miss it all.

some things are still the same

It's 4:54 on a Wednesday, I'm inside a room with air conditioner, sitting in front of my computer, designing things and watching Oprah.

Some things haven't changed at all (except that Oprah has Portuguese subtitles and I get to watch daytime TV while I work).

how I'm re-learning the metric system

Ok, so I spent almost 7 years living and working abroad using only the US customary units (inches, feet, etc). I've been having a hard time getting used to the metric system again (cm, kilos, km, etc) and numbers here don't mean much to me unless I compare them to something measured in inches.

I have found out that the average penis size in Brazil is 14 cm, which according to my calculations, is 5.5 inches. Regardless of how much Brazilian men are packing (or not!), I must say that that has become a good standard of reference for me when I don't have a calculator nearby.

So if someone tells me "Oh, that frame is 50 cm x 30 cm" I quickly figure that is about 9 Brazilian penises in width and 5 Brazilian penises in length, which means, in the US system that frame measures around 20'' x 11''.

Got it?

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I know you are wondering, so here's the breakdown:

Brazilian............................ 5.5'' = 14 cm
Black.................................. 6.89'' = 17.5 cm
Asian................................. 5.33'' = 13.5 cm
Caucasian......................... 6.22'' = 15.8 cm
Hispanic........................... 6.15'' = 15.6 cm
Native American............. 5.66'' = 14.4 cm

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The illustration above is from xkcd.com - A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math and language. Brilliant. Click here to see some of my favorites.

craving

While working at my last job in Indianapolis, my breakfast consisted of a can of Diet Coke and a peanut butter granola bar from Nature Valley. It was a ritual. Before even saying a good morning, I would go in the kitchen, grab my Coke, my granola bar, and go to my desk. E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y. The most yummiest and caffeinated part of my day. Turns out Brazil doesn't have Nature Valley. We do have Diet Cokes, of course, but my craving for my peanut butter or almond bars is getting stronger. My days are just not the same. I'm ordering them today online and having them shipped to me.

so far in brazil

there's more where that came from

Hi Brazil.

It's nice to see you. You're still as hot as ever.

I'm dead tired, so updates and photos to come soon.

Almost gone

Gate E12. That's where I'm at. At the airport in Atlanta. I've checked Puppy in and cryed my eyes out. That makes me think that I will put myself through hell if I'm ever a mother.

It's 7:03pm and our flight to Rio leaves at 8:40pm. This has been a crazy, crazy day and I'm so overwhelmed I can't even put it into words. A huge part of me wants to run out of here and go back to my good old life in Indianapolis, but anothe - the 2% sane part of me - is keeping me here and telling me I need to get in that flight and go.

I really hope I don't regret this. I really do.

I'll miss all of this.

All of right here.

Indianapolis, Atlanta, Brazil

Dear people,

I'm in Atlanta, writing from the hotel bar, using my new 17'' Mac Book Pro with which I am fucking in love. (I can't imagine how I lived 26 years of my life without it. Capitalism - you fucking complete me.)

We - me, my dad and Pupps - drove 8 long hours yesterday from Indianapolis to Atlanta, and got here only to crash. We're staying at this really cute hotel in midtown, and Puppy fucking hates the elevator. He clings to the floor like spiderman, it's hillarious. Because I don't want to leave him at the hotel by himself barking his ass off, I haven't been able to do much without him. I drove around, got lost a few times, walked around a cute little place with a bunch of small art galleries, saw where Portfolio Center is, then got lost again and got harassed by two crackheads, then went back to the hotel. Pupps is upstairs with my dad, sleeping, and I'm here at this bar watching a group of middle aged men drink Pinot Noir and make small talk.

I'm leaving to Brazil tomorrow, which means these are my last 24 hours in America, at least for now. My plan is to come back to visit next Fall, but right now it just sounds sooo far from here! I didn't get to say goodbye to all of my friends. This past week was insanely busy and I still can't believe I managed to pack all my shit and ship it to Brazil.

I'm sad. Really sad, and most of all, I'm afraid I will regret this move. But it's something I have to do now. I want to be with my family now, and I miss that part of my life. But who knows what's going to happen... One thing that I've learned these past two months is that life doesn't give a fuck about your plans, so I'm doing my best to just go with it and try to make the right decisions for now, and only hope that things will work out for me, wherever I end up at.

Love,
a very overwhelmed me.

"I came, I saw, I want to go home"

After 6 wonderful, life-changing years here in this country, I'm moving back to Brazil. I can't explain how this feels. It's wonderful and horrifying at the same time. Right now I can only feel the horrifying part. I can only cry my eyes out. I can only make a list of people I have to see before the 25th. I just want to wake up.

Those 6 years tested me in every way they could. I went through ups and downs I didn't even know existed. I found my second family; I found people who became my insides. I can't remember what life was like before them. How do I leave?