P.S. On Saturday Night Fever

Seriously, what did anyone ever see of great in that movie? I was shocked by how dislikable it was.
Just had to share it. Please, if you feell strongly about the matter, leave a note on the subject and enlight my confuse soul.

An updateful update

Ok, ok, it is almost nine o'clock and I have not done any of teh nice studying or reading I was supposed to. Therefore, this post must be extremely useful, extremely updateful (do not question my invented words, just forgive) on the whole situation. No more of that blog garbage on how beautiful the little birds are, the light comes in and there, how depressed I am because I don't know often what I am doing here... WHATEVER! Now, real events, stuff that has happened to me.

....

....
... (still thinking)

Ok, I know!

Let us start with that party I went to on Friday night. It was at the house of my 3rd/4th year from Lebanon. I got to meet him there actually. I got to know about the party while shopping with Isabell and Talia on the most frustrating shopping mall in the world : Metrotown - if you do not like reading maps, do not go there. So, the party was themed ABC - anything but clothes. After improvising a nice dress out of an IKEA bag and a pillowcase, there I join the whole gorup and take the bus to the place. Mission accomplished: I had tones of fun. I danced, I talked with people, some of them I don't exactly remember who they were though. I talked to this guy a long time and found out tere are interesting people around here. I met him randomly the other day and exchanged facebooks - honestly the world is way smaller than I thought, even in the big SFU in big Vancouver. Curious.

Next day, I went to have dinner with my aunt, my uncle and their friends. It was fun, restaurant was very nice in a Canadian way and conversations very lively. I learned a couple of things about Canada, I must say. Only thing I disliked: frequent references to apparently me being very smart. Exageration makes me feel uncomfortable. I wish I was very smart - I wouldn't ahve to work as I do then! Oh, funny thing: I got asked again about having a TV and a car. Yes, I a m odd, not watching TV and thinking I am a bit too young to drive. The skytrain is nicer, of course. I took it home around 10:30. I arrived at the bus stop to the University and realised it was cold and I was wearing a summer skirt and knee-high Summer socks. Let us just say those were very long 15 minutes....

Sunday I realised that I had readings to do on Monday. Yes I did. And so, whole day reading was my terrible final fate. Yes, I did not go to the Cinemateque! They had awesome filsm from a French Director that I really wanted to watch... Later in life, if I ever decide to commit to a stable monogamous relationship, my other "half" must be totally into going to this kind of things. Otherwise, not worth even trying.

About me and stable monogamous relationships. The other day, I was having dinner with a friend and two other guys she knew. For some reason I was asked if I would ever marry a German guy. I said : No. Accused of racism and discrimination against poor German boys, I ahd to explain my intentions of not marrying, the fact that I do not see myself as a mother. Without even a stop, in about 30 seconds both of them were pronouncing me a hearthless person who did not want to "share my love" and would end up living wiht cats. They said: I looked like a cat lady. Now, let us be serious here. Why? WHy? Why? I am nice..... Why do I come out as a man-hater bitch instead of a normal 17 year old who does not want to give birth in the near future and does not see the point of a piece of paper (except for tax reduction) as a confirmation of my atheistic love for another person. When will such encounters end...?

Wow, this got long. If anyone ever read all of this, let me know. Anyways, if you know me I probably miss you. So send me an e.mail, a comment, a wall post, a postcard ( I checked my mail everyday and I get realllly happy when I get stuff!).
I love you all and I appologise for any mistakes in the previous text. I am just typing very fast. Everything is ver fast...

I am just sugar high on maple syrup.



But one thing she made clear
There was no coming on to her
There was no way
That she could respect
If it couldn't see
That the girl just wants to be
Left alone with Marx and Engels for a while
She's writing in the style
Of any riot girl

"The bourgeoisie, historically, has played a revolutionary part to all feudal, idyllic relationships.
It has resolved personal worth and in place of freedom is exploitation for profit alone.
There is a spectre of the past in my bold assertion.
We could learn much from the past."

It's Friday night, and I am drinking cheap tea... - Thoughts at the end of the Summer

Yes, it is Friday night. I am drinking cheap tea. I am alone in my room and it is dark outside.

I have my gender studies book open in my desk with some pages left for me to read. But reading about sex and gender and all that gets you tired after a while.

I have a letter that I have written but need to copy into nicer paper and handwriting. I do not have the address to send it yet. No point in doing it now then.

So, that is what I told my aunt whom I called an hour ago. She was very surprised. She said teenagers here in Canada go out and get drunk on Friday nights, they wait all week for it, actually. I was about to tell I could use some cherry licour but I did not.

Yes, I know it all seems boring. Tedious. Outrageously still. Yet, I fell this end of summer days as moments of perfect harmony and beauty. Of thoughts that come to inhabit my head during the soemtimes lonely days. And of visions of details of shocking beauty.

When I was coming from the bank, I heard somehting. A bagpipe, playing somewhere. It was a beautiful song, much like the ones of the Portuguese bagpipe players. So I looked through the last rays of sun, and searched in vain for a player . No sign of man, woman, or any other soul on the lawns around. For about 30 minutes I stood there. Sometimes I felt like I was seeing something, but it was not the player. The music seemed to come from the forest beyond the lawn, up the mountain. It seemed as if it was being played from someone hidding in trees. Maybe it was.

Earlier today, I went to the library and fetched a copy of the Motorcycle Diaries. I must see it. While going out, after a very nice old lady checked my DVD's , I saw the magazine of the Pacific Cinematheque and saw they had a whole cycle dedicated to Truffaut! I almost jumped. In that moment I decided I would go and see all the movies I could at the Cinematheque.

Inspired by this resolution, I went online and checked the programme for the Lisbon Cinemateca. It was beautiful... I wish I was there. I wish I worked there. How beautiful it could be... to work in the Cinemateca. To let yourself drift among the movies everyday. Not to live a fantasy, no. But to live multiple realities. And feel no guilt or shame at all.

And among thoughts such as this I wonder, among the paperwork and the cheap tea, where I am. What is this place I live in and what is my future here. Whatever it might be, it begins with these floatting last summer days.

On Eurovision songs and independent adults

So,

I am writing out of urge today. Yes, it is a craving. Something like the ones you get for chocolate, sex or computer games. And it has been with me the entire day. Tension release to the sound of instrumental Bossa-Nova Brazilian music:


Things have been going much better in my mind for the last few days. Yes, classes are still not perfect (and I started having problems in French!), and people don't reply to my "hi's"... But I go to know really great people.

More than that, at the end of the day, I am becoming exactly what I wanted to be: a strong independent adult (...on the way to?) person.
Each time I come to my messy room and drop my keys on the table, a sense of comfort fills my soul. The only thing it can compare is probably the beautiful sunsets on the top of the Univerisity mountain. I love staring alone at the mountains here.... When I let the last sunrays collide with my body, that is when I feel most free.

I know I expressed very romantic states of mind a couple of posts ago. And, you, dear friends that migth ever acidentally run into this blog, ask: how does this all combine? The strong independent woman and the little girl watching surfers?

As an answer, and initiation of a general comment about human nature, let us take my obsession today with the winner of the 1965 Eurovision competition.

(wait... this might make sense, I promise..)

Poupée de Cire, Poupée de Son, a song sang by a yé-yé blonde France Gall. About how she is only a doll, how she is totally controllable and how her songs show her being like a mirror, how she is afraid of boys and all that... Why, I ask, am I obssessed with it and, at the same time, absolutely hate everything about patronising?

Part of what is like being a human is being creative, seeing the future, imagining another present. And I would like to think that the attraction for the irrational, the conlficting desires we have within us are part of that. We choose to let them be as fantas exactly beacuse they make sus bee alive as human beinmgs.

Being ifascinated by tunexperienceed danger is healthmy, I guess. So is being fascinsated by comfort. I sometimes deeply want to be a Manhattan socialite, with loads of money, random relationships and loads of shoes. I don't know how, but this keeps me going. Not because I will ever get it, not because it makes me be more realistic. Simply, and purely, because it does not make any sense in my life's context!

Being a dreamer and living in fantasy worlds is far from being iddle. It is being more human than anyone else.

The Canadian Dream

Here I am, in my room in SfU, Vancouver, Canada. It is a nice place, I cannot deny that.


I am listening to a CD a nice girl downstairs lent me. It sounds great.

Life if perfect....., or is it?

I arrived in this continent about a week ago. I attended Orientation and had my first class yesterday. I say to everyone at home it has been going perfect but it is not. Maybe it will get better, but this week was not that great.

University here is not exactly what I imagined and I woke up today with the thought that I might have made a mistake...

It is the yelling, the over-exicitment, the "high-school" movie like situations, the obsession with sex and alchool, the conversations I simply cannot get...
I have met some really nice people, but it is so hard to connect with them. I feel like a stranger, a sort of misplaced element. Just like when I was back in Portugal.

And so, as I sitt in my bed, alone in my room, I look out the window. From here I can see around 20 other rooms, in a very voyeuristc way, I must say. I look at all of them and I wonder: will I ever belong here?

This was never a big question, because I never belonged anywhere before my Norwegian chapter. But suddenly, I want to belong, to feel good where I live, comfortable and happy. I want to be able to wake up with a smile and feel therw would be no other place to be than where I am.

I went to my French class yesterday. The teacher was wonderful, a friendly lady from Vietnam with a true passion for her profession. I understood all she said. The students, on the other hand, were sooo hard to get (American acent...). But more than pronunciation, I really felt very odd. I was probably the youngest there, one of the few first years. I was the only international. Well, I know this does not sound like a reason to worry. Probably in another week it will be much better. Meanwhile, the sounf of European French makes me feel good and comforts my soul.

And yet, I spend my mornings in my room, looking out and wondering how cold it is. When I get out for lunch I get lost in the crowd and wonder silently to my room. This routine is broken by the fortunate encounters and meetings with some great people.

And yet, I am unsatisfied. Am I too impacient? Am I so hard to please?

Maybe.

Accross the Ocean.... the unkown land

Finally I got some time to post something... Last couple of days have been hectic, chaotic, etc (continue with adjectives nearing to panic decription). The thing is: after coming back from Madrid, from a peaceful, art-filled weekend in Madrid, I had to get moving! I was leaving in 1 week! Leaving, as in, packing up all my things in a suitcase and not knowing exactly when I would be back to see my family again.

Yes, I have been doing some posts where I let my alter-egos go on (the surfers one) or analyse books and movies, or just write non-sense ( or what doens't seem non-sense at the time but afterwards does). Now, I am quite serious: this is what is happening to me.

I packed all my clothes yesterday. I needed my Mom to help me, and my sister. I thought I would panic a bit about that: overweight and all unfortunate events related to suitcases. That was untill I saw, on the Internet, this:

________________
THINGS TO BRING ( SFU Residence)

What you will need:

A telephone • - even if you plan to use your cell phone you will
need a phone to access security and, in many residences, to
buzz people into your building.


Linens and pillows • (your mattress is provided.)
_________________

A telephone.
As a background to this, let me just say that this week I found out about American plugs (yes, I am Europocentric, not by choice, by circunstance) and how they were connected to a voltage. That means, have to buy everything new there, except for my laptop and camera. Ok, Fine with that. A telephone? I come from a country where we don't even buy telephones! you buy t with phone company subscription! A telephone? Ok, I guess I will have to find that.

your mattress is provided
Thank you, at least... And a pillow, no? Oh, well, they are taking us shopping for essentials in the first day - hopefully I won't need to sleep on my coat.


Now for the rest...
_________
Thing you may want to bring:

(...)
Cleaning supplies • ?
Clothes hangers •???
(...)
Desk lamp •?????????????????
(...)
Laundry detergent •?????????? (As if paying for the laundry machines was not enough!)
(...)
_______________________

These are just a few examples of my astonishment. I know this is pherhaps a regular Univeristy thing. But the fact is: it wasn't like this in Norway. Residence at the college was designed for people getting there from huge distances with very little stuff with them. THIS is designed for people who are dropped and helped by their own parents in big american cars. I can do it on my own, but still... I can't carry all this things! And knowing I don't have a whole house packed in my suitcase, makes me feel unsure about my first times there.

I am not exactly scared. I think I might even be OK with the classes. I am just realising that, besides having to cross the Ocean and get to the right places on time, I will have to get myself together and live all alone in a very strange place, for a while, untill I learn my way around. No roomies, no House Mentor, no Clothing Store, no Uncle Tom's Cabin, no Cleaning Day or changing bed linen. Now it sounds like I am scared. but it is just me realising how well taken care of we were in that college. How easy and nice it was.

Well, on a positive note. That is the challenge. Key word in fact. I will be doing this on my own ,and enjoying it I bet. It is the kind of trip that puts butterflies in my stomach (yes, like the ones you get when you are in love). I have everything planed, what can go wrong? Not much, really. With all the intense socialising plan they have for the first week... the "living alone" thing won't be that lonely.

I'm young and alive - watch out American Continent, here I go!

Surfer boys - A Romantic Manifesto

To the soundtrack of "Virgin Suicides" by Air


Last week I went to Spain.

One night, we decided to camp near a town called Ferrol, in a camping site by the coast. It was next to a beach, very remote. On the side of the camping where my parents choose to stay there were a few tents, it was closer ot the beach. And,while I helped with our own tent and sleeping bags, I saw them. Some 4 or 5 Spanish surfers, about my own age. They came in their wet suits with long curly hair and laughing of some joke. On the right, there was a French family, in a van with painted flowers. And they had three sons and they all came back from surfing, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. One of them passed by my tent and said "Hola", with a French accent.

For no reason at all, I felt disturbed. Well, there must be a reason, I just don't know what it is. What is this about surfers? I have listened to too many Jean and Dean records? What do they evoque that I want so badly?

It could be the freedom, the adventure. But, I have that. I got to a point where I am satisfied with the uncertainty of my future, I am free in that way. What is it then?

I can't really tell, but I would say it has something to do with their boyish face and the curly hair. It was not about the surf, it was about a sense of purity in the air, whenever they were around. A feeling that any look we could exchange could be nothing but true and clumbsy.

This summer I felt tired of all I ever lived in relationships. Of being pragmatic, of being cheated on, of pity-love, of unsaid love, of not talking, not being romantic, of wanting always to be with someone else, of being content with left-overs. I don't know how I got this way, but I did. I know many people did, and I see it everyday. What happen to us? We, that cried so truly in the cinema, we, who promised to count the stars once we had someone to help out, we, who wanted to hold on to a leather jacket cruising across America?

I call for a reclaim. We, who have the right to a proper highschool love, like the ones the movies promised. We, who will not give up on that summer night walk. We want it and we will fight for it, simply because it is worth it. Let us never again get fooled, never again compromise. From now on, true romance, like we wished for. No white weedings, but true, genuine romance. And in that case, it won't matter if you have spot on your face or you feel that the shoes don't match.

Because, there is one thing I know, there is one thing that is true.