The monster

Gone mad. Wild, Absolutely delusional hysterical.

So much for easy going understanding sweet tranquil moderate reasonable attitude! Been to hell. Furious with the world, with time, space, people, feelings, internet, work, families, friends, pets, men, woman, children, elder, disabled, retarded, bushes, bycicles, birdies, fruits in trees, sunshine and rain drops... Birth.

Gone out, joined friends, ate too much, belly hurting, drinks wouldn't go down... Feeling dizzy. Choking. Choking in mind, in heart. The whole body choking! Turn red, green and blue. Look like a damn prism, with all those colours in between!!! It was about to come out.

Park car, pretend to talk on the phone as approaching building (whores in the area don't really attract the best crowd), take old blue lift, slide doors, press 3. Going up. 1, 2, stop. Open door, jacket off, scarf off, boots off, dress, tights, underware. All out! Winter cold and still hot. Mobile. Dial emergency number. The monster was about to be delivered!!!

Screams, hair pulls, contractions, tears, pain, anger, clenched teeth, bloodshot eyes, closed fists, veins about to burst, heart pumping... Pump. Pump! Don't stop. Contraction. Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Screams, punches, violent pushes. Contraction. Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Don't stop. Sweat it all out. Out! Contraction. Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Laughs, tears, laughs again, tears, tears, tears. Laughs. Let it all out! Ugly skin, smelly hair, dirty nails, rotting teeth: ALL OUT! PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHH!!!

Relief...

Light. Smile.

We're not alone.

Outside, a storm. All wind, thunder and hail...

Single 2009, Slapping 2010

The best thing about this blue mooned year is that it won't repeat. But, then again, that's the best thing about all years, about life.

From a hens day of someone I barely knew to feeding my emotions throught online addiction, I guess the following video is quite representative of what this year meant to me.



Dancing, high heels, sweet grey rainy city, flashmob, beautiful mad women, youtube... I wish I was there!

And to close this chapter I'm having a great party in my tiny house with my dear friends. funny that, there will only be an heterossexual man among us... :D

Next step: become a feminist? HELL NO!!!

Fuck 2009! Let's slap these hips all through 2010, girls!!!

Here's to all my single and non-single friends and non-friends. Here's to people. Here's to Life!

HappyNewYearWithLove. :)

Balanço

É hora de balanço.
"Doce balanço, caminho do mar."
Balanço de mulher a andar.
Balanço sólido, sinuoso;
Gingar curvo, majestoso.
Balanço firme, voluptuoso,
Do alto do salto vertiginoso.
Balanço do vento nas saias,
Do ventre a rodopiar.
Balanço dos cabelos nas ondas,
Dos seios nas mãos.
Balanço dos altos e dos baixos,
Dos gordos, dos magros,
Dos bonitos e dos chanfrados.
Balanço desesperado, sossegado.
Balanço da mulher
Do tempo que passou.
Balanço da vida,
Tão doce,
Que ainda falta...

Sick

Today I'm sick.

I've scratched my eye with the contact lens and it hurts to see. It hurts to see the surface. Because, when I'm sick, there seems to be nothing more but that. And I cry.

We share. We care. Do we? We sweep...

Episode 1: I got an email to which I didn't reply. I got a phone call some days later asking how I was feeling. "Good", I said, "We should go for a coffee."; "Sure, call me. And don't forget to tell me with some days in advance!"; "Right...", I hang up. No, I won't call. I can pretend, though. Love is not easy. Amen!

Episode 2: I walk into a bar. I see some familiar faces. One in particular calls for my attention. It's IB! I look at him. I smile. No reply. We're friends online. Apparently, not offline... The times are changing.

Episode 3: I go to a club. Someone is flirting me. I dance. He's cute. So is everybody else the way I'm wasted!!! We leave. I prefer tea to cute. An sms with an address reaches my mobile... I drink my tea. A few more void messages fade on my cellphone throughout the night. I sleep. Never see cute again. But I still dance and drink tea to avoid hangover!

Episode 4: I live in public. I get feedback. Some I like. Some I don't. Some I'm interested. Some I'm not. InterestingBecomesUninterestingAndViceVersaSoDoI. Got some feedback. Deep meaningful feedback. On the surface. Surfeed backface. Take some medicine drops in my eye and go to sleep.

But my eye still hurts... I keep crying. Crying out loud! Somebody listens. Thank you. I listen to you too. And I get well soon. :)

Imprisoned

This is the theme of a project I'm currently working at with my performing arts company. The performance will take place in the Faculty of Law's cells, used by students for behaviour experiments among other things, and it is based on three main references: the Zimbardo Experiment, Oscar Wilde's De Profundis and Plato's Allegory of the Cave.

The only real moment of freedom is when one is born. (I need to find out who said this.) All the rest of our lifetime we are physically imprisoned, from our mother's belly to one's own body and mind.

We start our lives being led, either genetically or through education. Experiences immediately start molding our perception of reality as well, but I believe their importance is gradual and it becomes more relevant as we turn into adults and fully assume leadership of our life's course. From the moment we are born, we start shaping a specific reality. "Every little action of the common day makes or unmakes character" (O.Wilde, De Profundis). At first, as I said, it is led (or at least guided) by others. This guidance loses its strength and importance as we grow up and begin appropriating our own choices and their consequences. Still we continue to forge a certain reality which is absolutely true only to ourselves. As Plato showed through he's Allegory of the Cave, there are certain things one will never understand in others by the simple fact of not having any common reference to share. In human interaction, it is common to get deluded, confused, disappointed. Those feelings are just natural defenses we produce to deal with what we do not understand. We are naturally afraid of the unknown. Plus, we might not want to understand. Once your own reality is well established you might actually not want to alter it or disturb its (so hard to achieve) harmony.

We live imprisoned in our own reality. And yet, as everything in life, this is an extremely delicate fact. Our reality only prevails within a certain context to which we are familiar with and, therefore, interact rationally. From the moment our circumstances change dramatically we cease to be able to respond accordingly. We leave rational to become instinctive. We lose the references, the framework in which we rely upon to be who we are. Our personality seems to become residual and one reacts instinctively to the new stimulus, as if not having any previous references or aims.

The Zimbardo Experiment shows how rapidly a group of middle-class, well educated graduate students completely tranformed their behaviour when placed in a totally different context. An experiment planned to last two weeks had to be interrupted after six days, to avoid really serious psychological damage to the volunteer graduates, playing the role of either guards or prisoners, or even to the researchers themselves!

In Murakami's novel, The Wind-Up Bird, Toru Okada, concludes at a certain point that one can live his whole life together with someone knowing "nothing but the most superficial layer of the person". I believe this is not only true to others but, above all, to ourselves. We never do know ourselves absolutely. Let alone, others! Life is a continuous flow of (repeated) novelty and one can only know how to react to each new stimulus when actually facing it, absorbing it as real. Not only we do not know ourselves under unknown circumstances as we do not know ourselves through other people's eyes, for their sole reality is absolutely mysterious to us. Vitangelo Moscarda, Pirandello's hero in Uno, Nessuno e Centomila, desperately seeks his true self within the multiple personas he seems to represent in each one's imagination, to finally realize the only absolute truth relies in not having "any history or past, he is no longer in himself but in everything around and outside of him".

As Oscar Wilde puts it, in De Profundis, this is Humility:

"But while there were times when I rejoiced in the idea that my sufferings were to be endless, I could not bear them to be without meaning. Now I find hidden somewhere away in my nature something that tells me that nothing in the whole world is meaningless, and suffering least of all. That something hidden away in my nature, like a treasure in a field, is Humility.

It is the last thing left in me, and the best: the ultimate discovery at which I have arrived, the starting-point for a fresh development. It has come to me right out of myself, so I know that it has come at the proper time. It could not have come before, nor later. Had any one told me of it, I would have rejected it. Had it been brought to me, I would have refused it. As I found it, I want to keep it. I must do so. It is the one thing that has in it the elements of life, of a new life, Vita Nuova for me. Of all things it is the strangest. One cannot acquire it, except by surrendering everything that one has. It is only when one has lost all things, that one knows that one possesses it.

Now I have realised that it is in me, I see quite clearly what I ought to do; in fact, must do. And when I use such a phrase as that, I need not say that I am not alluding to any external sanction or command. I admit none. I am far more of an individualist than I ever was. Nothing seems to me of the smallest value except what one gets out of oneself. My nature is seeking a fresh mode of self-realisation. That is all I am concerned with. And the first thing that I have got to do is to free myself from any possible bitterness of feeling against the world."

We are the world we live in. We are the people we meet. We are the life as we perceive it. We are imprisoned in our own reality, yes. But we ought to be humble to accept it, understand it and be thankful for it. Only then can we set ourselves free inside our own prisons for "freedom is what you do with what's been done to you" (Jean-Paul Sartre). Only then can we be at peace with ourselves. And contribute to a better world.

Berlin Wall Fall, November 09, 1989

Solitary Togetherness or Why Human

"We were outside, always outside, like heretics or lepers forbidden to pass the city gates.

Then one night, by agreement, we lit fires at the same hour, and the extent of the light showed us were not alone, as we had thought, but we were numerous, and not only numerous, but inspired, and could both move and speak in the light, and be beautiful..."


H.B. 21 – X - 09

http://grt21421.blogspot.com/

On writing

I've written all my life.

When a small child I used to write lines pretending they were words. Once I've learnt the alphabet I started reading and writing compulsively. I've always written diaries, short stories, letters, articles for school publications... Writing is part of me as much as speaking is.

The act of writing is crucial to structure my deepest thoughts. Things I might talk superficially with friends around some drinks at a bar are sometimes poured on paper. The same happens when it comes to personal relations. Writing down to someone is absolutely imperative if the realtionship is important to me. I think I've written to every single important person in the different stages my life. What and how I express myself on writing cannot be reproduced live. Not in the same way, at least. And vice versa. Long texts, short messages, poems... All my dear friends, relatives and lovers got a bit of me through letters.

Yet, my writing has changed dramatically in the last years. I probably write more in English than Portuguese and I definitelly type more on my keyboard than use a pen and paper. I get myself only writing on paper to those really important people I meet as a way to celebrate their meaning in my life. For them and for me. As a way of touching them. As a way to caress them. And me. Sadly, this now unusual act becomes more and more difficult. Writing down a letter requires time, patience, inspiration and physical effort. Requires love.

Hectic lives leave little time off to dedicate to others and, therefore, to oneself. I've written a four pages letter to this wonderful woman who I recently met. By the end of this exercize my hand and wrist hurted so much I could not believe it! My middle finger on my write hand, which used to be hard for writing, was now almost injured after some lousy four pages!!!

The metaphor behind it scared me to hell! If I now have little time, little patience, little inspiration and poor physical conditions to write to someone... That must mean I have little love in my life. That means I'm probably living against my own nature. That means I'm desperate to be just a human being - as the animal. That means that I now have to apply extra effort in trying to fill my basic physical and emotional needs, to live in harmony with my nature, with myself!

And what is even more scary is that I am not alone in this...

I predict a riot. Maybe I'll start one myself.

...

A gift

"And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion."
— Dylan Thomas

Growing old

These last holidays I spent a weekend in Soajo, up on Gerês mountains, visiting a dear friend. As half "soajeiros", my friend lives and works in Paris. The other half is in the US. A very small percentage of the local population actually lives in town. So there I went and was welcomed by all the smells, colours and flavours of Minho intertwined with the typical August messy crowd of emigrants on vacation. As I stepped out of the car, under the burning sun, I bumped into a Virgin Mary in purple! Kids were preparing for the procession. Dressed up into the most extraordinary outfits, running around the church in Pelourinho (the main square). I proceeded the way to my friend's home. After being twice to Soajo, one can easily find the way... Everyone was at the church so, despite of the whole party, everything was quiet around and I could only remotely hear the lovely brown almond-eyed cows lowing. Even the chicken were acting very civilized and still!


So there I was again, having fun with good friends, enjoying the pleasant company of that beautiful family, sharing their food and wine and stories around the table at meals, losing my bikini and contact lens whenever plunging into the river from this huge cliff (beware of my dramatism, reader) and talking as if there was no tomorrow, trying to update six months of distance and carry on friendship in its new version.

After a first full day, I was sprawling on the couch, looking at the pictures I had taken with my friends by the river, with all the sexy-calendar-bikini-style poses whe are capable of to amuse the newly-arrived emigrants and families on holidays; when this tiny wrinckled woman wrapped in black thick clothes entered the house. It was my friend's grandmother, Micas. And she looked at me as I did at her: curious. I couldn't resist her! So I stood up to great her, leaving the bloody digital cool camera behind, and join all the family women at the table, listening to Micas' odd enchanting stories. She told about the misery and hunger she went through in her youth. She told about rats and snakes in the soup. She told about how naked we go nowadays and how much better that is than to go all covered and having the old ladies covering your legs with their scarves whenever you would kneel down in church. She told a whole lot of wonderful stories! Some exciting. Some uninteresting. All wonderful! She told them quietly, with no signs of sorrow or regrets or anger. She told them consistently and peacefully. And I listened as I would listen to my own grandmother when I was just a little girl (and sometimes still do...), admiring her completely for her knowledge on wisdom, not questioning a thing. Feeling hugged by the words. And I got myself intensely wishing one day to become like her. That is what I want to be when I grow up. when I grow old. I want to be just that: old.


I wish to grow old. Very old! I wish to have my face covered by the wrinkles that will map my full life. My time turned into space. I wish to tell my grandchildren and their friends my wonderful stories, hoping to touch their hearts the same way Micas touched mine. A bit more placidly after each of life's whirlwind. Until my eyes close and I rest in peace.

Today, I got a couple of wrinckles more... I hope I still have a long way till I finally rest, but I am surely sleeping with a smile, deepening those beautiful furrows. Cherishing the love in my life. Growing old. At last! :)

The happiness of pursuit

I met someone.

This is a funny scentence... :) You meet many people in your life. But when you say "I met someone" it's just different. Well, I did.

I've been having a full life. Lots of good experiences, wonderful people, beautiful places... But when you meet someone it's always special. It looks like all your life can be reduced to that tiny moment. It's like being ran over by a car (believe me, I know what I'm talking about). You rapidly rewind your all life in a couple of seconds to then wake up and feel terribly happy just because you're still there. And it feels so good! (Don't go triyng to be run over by cars now, reader! I am talking about falling in love.) Because it is the most sublime way to taste life. You meet lots of people in your life. Even fall in love with many. But there are only a certain few with the gift to make you feel alive, with the gift to touch you without hurting.

My life has been full, all right. Full of love. From my lovely looney family to my dear friends and all the either wonderful or goofy lovers I might have had, I've been having a happy life. There are often times when I think "If I die now, I die happy!". This might be a very extreme dramatic thought (here I go being dramatic...). It is a very relaxing quiet one too and I hope I'll have it often throughout life. It reminds me things like being sitted at the top of this huge tall ship's mast, looking down to the large calm waves passing beneath the boat and feeling the swinging sunset on my face. As someone really important once told me, happiness is not a state, it's a process. Being happy is, above all, being yourself and enjoying it. "Porque una es más auténtica cuanto más se parece a lo que ha soñado de si misma" (Agrado, Todo Sobre Mi Madre, 1999).

Today, friends were having dinner chez moi. I look at the table and see lots of glasses, dirty dishes, empty bottles... God, it feels good! Finally home. Finally back to life, to me. Some human disappointments have recently occured in my life. My latest love experiences were not so lovable... I was so scared of loosing myself on the deception, of loosing my faith in life and in love. But then this salty breeze swept my path, leaving a clear trail of hope and understanding behind. How can a total stranger change your life so completely in just a few hours?! How can you be so happy just for falling in love? Then I realized, it wasn't him, this stranger... It's me. What I could see in/ through him because of all the beautiful people I carry with me, from which he is now part too. I recovered my faith, my inspiration, my will. I recovered my life for he had the gift to put it right in front of my eyes! (Or I had the gift to put him right in front of my eyes! Which was not difficult...) I am eternally grateful for that. That man is now part of my home too. And yet, he came in and out of my life like that fresh salty breeze early on a summer foggy morning.

So friends were here, willing to listen, willing to speak, willing to care and be cared about. New friends, old friends, people I love and respect and trust. People who are part of me and whose life affects mine in every way. There we were eating my Carbonara, drinking rose and smoking cigarretes while I would moan about my new state of grace. I sigh, they smile, I laugh, they smile, I cry, they smile again... And I get by with a little help from my friends.

I realized all I want is salty breeze people, really. People who stay around even when they're not there, people who guide you whithout even understanding they do, people who take time to listen to your nonsenses and are not affraid to tell you when you're being stupid, people you like to listen to, people who become part of your own personality, people who you admire secretly to find out one day they admire you too! Above all, we are the people we meet. And the only thing we can control in life is the importance we give to each and every one of them, those we should absorb and those we should ignore.

All I wish is to continue persuing that salty breeze that keeps me sailing through life.

Let's give it another try...

Well, well... Here I am are again.

After killing FishandHips I, due to censorship = wise advise reasons (I really just wanted to be polemic on my very first blog scentence!), I've decided to give it another try.

This blog should be about the Life. My life on FishandHips II. Which my friends would say could be a hell of a movie script. I'll leave it posted then, from now on. Maybe Tarantino passes by... Or Tim Burton!!! Alice in Wonderland remake, even before Alice in Wonderland comes out! :)

More than a mere diary, I aim to raise some contemporary questions about life. Some mine, some from my circle of friends and family and pets (this could be read as ex-boyfriends... kidding, guys! :D).

I am officialy embracing at last this lousy "modern woman" label I seem to carry in the recent years of my life. I am single, live alone at my own appartment, have a 24/7 job, lots of gay friends and an exquisite taste for wine and food. Oh, and I carry a laptop on my backpack instead of a baby wrapped around my wrist. To complete the picture and finally recognize this unavoidable reality, here I am BLOGGING!

Modern times made me this so-called modern woman. I never thought it would be so, though. Not that I had the prince charming riding on a horse to come and pick me up at twelve (I find the picture quite gay, really...) or the KingKong version riding a building instead of the horse (which would be a bit more manly). Or am I being again a product of our times and affraid of recognizing the hard reality of my wishes and fantasies? Well, for the current purpose, it really doesn't matter. That's too personal. Mind your own business, reader! ;)

Anyway, being a modern-woman is not something I've always wished for. Actually, I had never even consider it at all. And it's hard for me to believe that anyone does... But it's possible, of course.

"Life is hard", says psychiatrist Scott Peck at the very beggining of his book The Road Less Traveled, a summary on ways people find (or hide) to face relationships and life. He also states that, once you recognize this absolute truth, things immediately get easier. I've read his book some eight years ago and this first scentence got stuck in my mind ever since. I had recongized the truth! Tuririruriruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu (read under XFiles tune).

Maybe as Peck, I believe the essence of each one's life is the people. As a definition of ourselves, at some course I did once, we were asked to draw something that would identify us. I made the typical stickman and presented it as it follows: "This is a person because I am a person and, above all, I like people." I guess this pretty much defines me and the way I see life. So the modern-woman stereotype doesn't really fit, once it demands an overdose of selfishness and other self-centered personality skills.

Given my lifetime experience - which is not that much in terms of time but it is some in terms of relationships, considering them as the utmost life experiences - I believe Romeo and Juliet families' disapproval has been replaced by air fares and conflicting job and social schedules. Today, social status frontiers over relationships are not as obvious as for Romeo and Juliet. Eventually, everything is possible. As long as you can afford it or have the time for it! So instead of facing social constraints (I am generalizing, of course) we now face distances, schedules, carreer stages, relationships' historicals, long distance friends' visits... We have everything at our feet. Our life can be distributed all around the globe! Either because you were trevelling or because you met someone from another place. You want it, you can have it. But then again, can you really? Is it selfishness to question wether you should buy a new couch or go visit your boyfriend in Africa? Is it really futile to buy an iPhone instead of a romantic flower bouquet to your beloved? Is it that promiscuous to jump into bed with someone you really liked just because he or she is leaving the very next day? No. They say tradition is not what it used to be. I'd say morality is not what it used to be. And I'm not trying to preach anything. And here I go excusing myself because actually, today, even just pronouncing the word "morality" has become a tabu. As Oscar Wilde stated, I too believe "Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace". I just believe morality (like art) has dramatically changed - and keeps changing. Accepting and "organizing" the new morality - that's the challenge.

When you come from a mediterranean traditional catholic "garden planted by the sea" (said Camões) like I do, or any other place with similar social structures (so virtually every country), these issues can become real problems. Specially, because not everyone is actually willing to face them. Status quo has worked so far. Why changing it? And when it comes to a time when you have to face them, you just pretend they don't exist and the option you took was the sole one. Nobody decides nothing. It is always the circumstances, which where I come from, you would call it "God". God, I hate irresponsibility!

The amount of people and places we meet represent huge opportunity costs with which no relationship can compete. The alternatives to stick to a partner are not only all the other "experiences" you can have with other people but also all the trips, courses, social programmes, carreer progress, etc. People take time. Committing to someone is to be certain you want to dedicate time to that person. Studying the Rise of the Creative Class, by Richard Florida, I read this interesting Paul Romer's arguement about time:

“even when we are not actually pressed for time, we may perceive that we are because our time is literally worth more than it used to be. In advanced nations, Romer explains, the long-term trend is for average real income to increase. (...) This ought to make us feel pretty good about the returns we’re getting on our time. (...) Instead, we assign an ever-increasing cost to every minute that we spend outside work – and thus worry constantly about minutes slipping away. It is, says Romer, an unavoidable side effect of our economy.” (Florida, 2002)

So this is it! It all comes down to Time. (I know this is a very economic perspective of it but, guess what, I'm an economist!)

Once, when I was writing my MA dissertation in my 14 square meter messy room at Willen House, London, I had this inspiring thunder light burning my brains and ran to my front neighbour's room yelling "TIME DOESN'T EXIST!". I'll explain this later... Anyway, this discovery made things harder (or easier) for me.

We are living faster than our own lives. The average lifetime we have as human beings is not enough given the huge amount of opportunities we have ahead of us. We live under this common anxiety, excitment, depression, expectation... And it is something affecting most people in my generation. Everything is possible, yes, in an progressively faster, more ephemeral range of time. How the hell sould we not get confused? It's like as if we belong to this bipolar generation, rapidly shifting from extremely happy to deeply sad.

This leads to a growing sense of emotional insecurity. And we try to transform it into excessive social confidence, through the amount of people we know, places we visit or cutting-edge experiences we accumulate.

Even our concept of home has changed. Either we are complete nomads, moving from place to place, according to the jobs we get, the relationships we're in; or we are partially nomad, having a base-place where to live but moving once in a while, for longer or shorter periods of time, around the world to gather those so-called experiences. Even if we do not adopt any of these nomadic/ mid-nomadic behaviours, we have a totally changed concept of nest: it is no longer the place you call home but a show-case refuge. You decorate it to show your friends how good you feel with yourself and you hide there whenever you want to burst and cry without anybody understanding that, sometimes, you're just not happy or feel lonely. You can also live with your parents... But that's just always a bad option, I think. Of course, again, I am generalizing what is my perspective of things. Thankfully I know plenty of people living happily in their homes. Yet, I do believe what I've described is a very common feeling.

On top of all this, you have digital. You're life can be multiplied as many times as you wish, in practically every aspect of it. Social networking allows you to invent as many personalities and lives you would like to have, gather an enormous amount of people around you, travel around the world, be infinitely informed about virtualy everything! Virtual reality is potentially the ultimate theatrical experience by exactly its opposite. When you do theatre you embrace someone else, you actually live through someone else and you recall your deepest emotions or those of other you've watched carefully or had extreme empathy for and expose them on stage, exercising your feelings to the edge of them. This is because you have people all around you: people acting with you, people lightning you, people covering you with music, people watching you. Everyone, in that slow deep sweet moment, cares for you and what you are doing. On the other hand, once you go digital all this vanishes. There's nobody. For as much as you are communicating, interacting, exchanging with people, you are alone. You can't feel others warm breath, their smell, their subtle movements, their life! Just the bright light (go Gremlins!) of your screen and the hard touch of the keyboard... I'm being drammatic, I know. Abd of course I recognize all the enormous advantages of digital media and embrace them as much as I can. I'm blogging, remember? But, guess what, I'm also an actress! ;)

Given all this, which is mainly what I believe this blog will be prowling through, makes me wonder why the hell did we left caves where we lived happily alltogether, nitpicking each other. And then again, even with all these concerns in our heads (instead of lice!), we do manage to be happy...

I love people! :)

By the way, did I mention I'm trying to take over the world?