"look, tom, it's easy..."

Não é TPM, e disso eu tenho certeza, já que, hoje, a cólica me acordou às 5h30 da manhã e me avisou que estava prestes a começar mais uma semana-mais-gostosa-do-mês para mim.
Maybe it's this book I'm reading, cause that Holden guy is really depressing.
All I know is that, boy, I'm feeling lonely. And weird. And I've been judging people a lot, which is annoying.
I wish I could just turn around and ask the guy who sits next to me in class all of these things that bug me, I wish he'd know exactly what to tell me, I wish he'd answer all of these stupid questions just as fast and certain as he does when I ask him what day it is.
Agora estou na aula de física, com uma cólica do cão, morrendo de sono, sem energia nem força de vontade para tentar entender o que o professor está falando. Instead, estou aqui me lamentando e pensando em como, uma vez, num filme de quando a Dakota Fanning ainda era fofinha e fazia filmes interessantes (aliás, agora é irmãzinha dela que está ocupando essa posição) e a Brittany Murphy ainda estava viva, ouvi dizer que as pessoas sempre vão te decepcionar, e que você precisa fazer alguma coisa para você, alguma coisa que te faz bem, to like, get you going.
Only, God, that is just so confusing. To me, it feels like there's such a thin line between not caring about other people and caring too much, between being auto-suficiente and being a huge, anti-social, pain in the ass.
Plus, I don't know what I can do, I don't know what could help me, and get me going, and everything. Because, now that I think about it, I don't think I'm particularly good at anything.
Take my dad, for example. Ele, numa discussão familiar ocorrida esse fim de semana mesmo, disse ter uma paixão inexplicável pelo ciclismo desde que era mais novo do que eu. Que essa paixão é uma coisa que vem de dentro dele. Que não, mesmo depois de mais um acidente, ele não ia parar. It got my mom pretty damn mad, essa declaração, but it also got me thinking: será que todo mundo tem isso?
Comecei aula de yôga a um mês, e estou tendo tanta dificuldade... Maybe one day, eventually, I'll be good at it. I really hope so. I really hope that, one day, it becomes, to me, that little-thing-that-gets-me-going. And, if ever it isn't yôga, that little-thing-that-gets-me-going, well, then I just hope I find out what it is.
Because the only thing I am actually good at is writing. And, if you think about it, even though the writing does help me, não é uma atividade auto-suficiente, because someone will always have to read it. It sort of feels incomplete, if no one reads it.

Oh God. Maybe it's just me. It's probably time I stop being such a pussy (I like using that word after a scene where Tom's little sister says it to him in 500 Days of Summer) (estou muito filmeira hoje.. Mais cedo, na aula de inglês, I was thinking of how, in the end of the Princess Diaries, Mia tells Michael she loves him because he saw her when she was invisible. That's just so dumb. First of all, it's no reason to love someone. Ok, maybe it is, I don't know. But the thing is (e isso ia ser o "second of all"), you can't see someone who's invisible. And I mean that literalmente e metaforicamente falando).
Anyway, I was talking about my being-a-pussy-ness.
Maybe it really is time I stop being such a pussy. 'Cause the writing really did help. It just made me feel a little better, and a little less of a pussy. E meu melhor amigo acabou de me dar uma carta. E ele nunca escreve cartas. E, que bom, que tem pessoas como ele na minha vida. No meio de tantos tantos tantos pussys.

Meu Deus.
É tão fácil para mim, esquecer de tudo.
Acreditar em outra coisa.
Deixar tudo para trás, comprar a ideia de um outro qualquer, sem me dar conta.

E é tão estranho.

E agora eu estou vendo fotos do dia em que comprei uma regata azul, lá na França. Agora ela está toda cheia de bolinhas, encardida, velha.

E a vida é tão engraçada.
2 horas atrás, eu estava andando sozinha pela rua. Parei e decidi tirar umas fotos da Praça do Japão. Passou um ciclista um tanto quanto bonito e me paquerou. E o sol estava se pondo, e o ciclista era realmente bonito, e foi um daqueles momentos gostosinhos da vida.
1 hora atrás, eu estava morrendo de calor, suando feito uma porca, voltando para casa do meu vô andando pela Visconde, revoltada por ter gastado 15 reais para ir numa festa junina onde eu só fiquei por meia hora. Pelo menos eu comi bastante.
Agora, estou com dor de barriga, vendo fotos de quando eu morava na França, em 2007, e pensando no quanto eu mudei e no quanto eu vivo me esquecendo de quem eu já fui. E no quanto eu amo reviver tudo isso.

E no quanto a vida é estranha.
E engraçada, e imprevisível.

happy happy (cheesy cheesy)

Estou tão feliz.
Incrivelmente, por ter ido dormir super cedo ontem de noite.
Por ter acordado 8h30 porque eu QUIS.
Por ter aproveitado minha manhã tomando um café e comendo torrada, tomando solzinho na sacada, ouvindo música.
Por ter decidido, depois disso, that I had to make an effort and work on this hate relationship I have with my house.
Por ter tomado um banho enrolado, por ter raspado minhas pernas depois, e passado nas minhas canelinhas o hidratante que eu passo, normalmente, no final de todos os dias no verão. Aquele cheirinho me deu boas lembranças.
Por ter comido macarrão alla carbonara no almoço, e tomado sorvete no Freddo depois.
Por ter hung out in my underwear praticamente o tempo inteiro em que eu estive em casa. Porque, incrivelmente, hoje estava suficientemente (e finalmente) quente para que eu fizesse isso.
Por poder, agora, ir lá embaixo, comer pão com requeijão, e depois subir e ler meu livrinho, na cama, sem nenhum compromisso.

Wow, I'm so proud of myself for making a list of happy things only.
It was just such a happy little day.
Meu vô sempre diz que depois da tempestade tem a calmaria, sei lá, uma coisa assim.
I guess it really is true.

Aliás, olha qui lindu meu novo mural e minha parede, que eu
FINALMENTE PINTEI DE AZUL!
Ay ay...

Me obriguei a apagar o último post.
"Românticos só se ferram"...

A verdade é que todo mundo se ferra, às vezes.
E eu sou só mais uma.
Romântica ou não-romântica.

Mas, sim, provavelmente romântica.

"já não quero ser mulher de homem nenhum,
quero ser mulher para mim,
ser quem eu quiser

já não quero ser mulher de homem, não,
homem que, por final,
leva um falso amor"

Definitely.
Made-up romance.

made up romance !?

oh boy II

OLD QUOTES FROM THE BLOG

SADNESS IS EASIER BECAUSE IT'S SURRENDER.
I SAY: MAKE TIME TO DANCE ALONE, WITH ONE HAND WAVING FREE!
- Claire Colburn em Elizabethtown

'cause people are just people,
people are just people,
people are just people like you
- Regina Spektor (ooh I miss her)

Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living
- Jonathan Safran Foer

I’m far from fearless. I’m afraid of everything. But maybe when you’re afraid of everything, it sort of seems like you’re scared of nothing.
- Natalie Portman

I think there is something beautiful in revelling in sadness. The proof is how beautiful sad songs can be. So I don’t think being sad is to be avoided. It’s apathy and boredom you want to avoid. But feeling anything is good, I think. Maybe that’s sadistic of me.
— Joseph Gordon-Levitt

Until a person takes responsibility for where he is, there is no basis for moving on. The bad news is that the past was in your hands, but the good news is that the future, my friend, is also in your hands.
— Andy Andrews

Everything passes, everything changes. Just do what you think you should do.
- Bob Dylan

It is a risk to love. What if it doesn't work out? Ah, but what if it does.
- Peter McWilliams

Don't second guess your feelings, you were right from the start.
- Jaymay

MAKE ONE PERSON HAPPY EACH DAY, EVEN IF IT'S YOURSELF.

(E elas ainda servem. Is it because I'm making the same mistakes all over and over again?)
Esse post foi gay.

I've been really obsessed with all that "being myself" crap lately. It's stupid, because you shouldn't actually worry about something like that. It's one of those things that should come naturally, just like the biology teacher said about breathing and the heart beating and our kidnees working. (I've been really enjoying biology lately).
The thing is, my true self is now a mess. I'm such a huge mess. I am. I'm a mess when I'm around other people and I "can't be myself". I'm a mess when I get annoyed by things I, apparently, shouldn't get annoyed by (which is certanly not "being myself", which is now getting me a little annoyed and making me think I have a mental problem). I'm a mess when I'm home alone, feeling sorry for myself, watching the Big Bang Theory, and then Friends, and then eating like a crazy obese person. (And man, I'm so seriously lucky I can do this - eat like a crazy obese person - and not get fat. Because, you know, sometimes, it's good, eating like a crazy obese person). I'm a mess when my mom gets home from work and asks me what happened and why I'm not treating her well, and I just start crying, and I don't know if I can tell her what's really going on with me. Not because I'm hiding it from her or anything, but because I don't know if I can actually tell at all why all of this is happening.
It's just, everything felt so so wrong after our last fight. I wasn't feeling well.
And so, Giovana, the little girl who likes to think of herself as a feeling-lover, the little girl who thinks we need being sad as much as we need being happy, just wanted to run away from feeling that miserable. Only she ended up making everything much, much worse.
And now here she is. And now here I am.
So now, I can either go and take care of myself, or go back to bed and watch TV and blame my parents, my not-going-to-Paris, or even the annoying ending of a movie for my misery.

Except, hey, I may be a mess, and it might be really hard, and take a lot of força de vontade, but I am working on making it all go away.