sleepyhead

18 hours spent in bed and I'm still tired. My pores and stomach are full, but I haven't eaten anything in months. My arms feel cold but the small of my back is wet, it sticks to my sheets, it bleaches my hair.  My feet, always dirty, try to escape the confines of my bed to breathe the hot air. All I do is yawn, my eyes perpetually watering, and remember, and dream. 

I remember how we went up to the mountains one day and had breakfast with all the kings of America. I remember your nipples sharp against the cold air dancing in front of my camera. I remember one-sided conversations. I make vague plans to write you a letter you will never ever receive. And, if you ever do, please throw it away. 

TELEVANDALIST makes the best gifs

I dream about the impending carnival and the mistakes I surely made at work. I dream about sleeping some more. I dream about my friends who are so far away, their red hair beacons from not that far away... but my voice breaks and she can't hear me. She's gone before she knows I'm here. Desperate teeth, a chance of survival quickly goes down the drain with a sigh and another yawn. Whatever. 

There's a well-known story around these parts by Horacio Quiroga about a woman who slowly dies immediately after she gets married. She becomes ill during her wedding night and slowly wastes away. It is later discovered a parasite lived in her pillow, the new pillow her new husband had given her for their wedding, and sucked her dry. It's a nice horror-y magical story and you should read it. But I'm like her. I'm Alicia and her parasite. Except I don't have a husband, or a new pillow, but something somewhere is sucking me dry. And I let it be. 

Things I Have Not Done Lately Because I Was Too Sleepy:
Brushed my teeth
Taken my contacts out
Painted my nails
Shaven
Woken up on time - ever
Read anything
Written
Drawn
Watched TV
Watched films
Cried
Laugh
Gone to the beach
Eaten
Danced
Cleaned *anything*
Drunk

The only thing I HAVE done is gone to work. For 6 hours, every day this January, I have pretended to be a functioning member of society. My work is pretty easy, so I finish every day around 1 and then stare at the wall for hours, trying to not fall asleep. I have no idea if what I have is a deep deep depression so deep I'm too sleepy to cry about it or I'm actually sick, but what I am is fucking over it. I rather be manic and self-destructive than this shit. I can't even cry over it, I feel close to nothing. So, someone trigger me please. 






<3

french people doing crazy things

I have a friend who owns a hostel. It is called Buen Camino, and I have met some really cool people since the hostel opened up, since we seem to be there almost every day. We chill with guests all the time, take them out, give them a taste of Uruguayan culture. Honestly, if you don't have a friend with a hostel, seriously consider getting one. And, if you ever come to Uruguay, that is where you will stay. Breakfast included!

I miss America

Anyway, last week, I met two travelers, Steven and Sarah, who, contrary to what their names may suggest, are French. Steven is doing this project/lifestyle where he travels around the world with no baggage (no backpack, no suitcases, nothing but the clothes on his back), no airplanes (he came to America on a boat--- how very colonial of him), and no hostels/hotels  (he sleeps outside, via couchsurfing, or with random people he meets in the streets). Sarah was with him doing a leg of his journey, which he started in June. He will continue by BUS to San Francisco, then another boat to Australia, from there to Asia, India to Africa, and then back home. 

It took Steven 40 days to get from Paris to Rio de Janeiro on a three-person boat. He has slept out in the jungle in the Amazons. He is a photographer (you can see his amazing stuff HERE), one of those who get real close to people as if in a trance. He and Sarah are two of the coolest people I have ever met and I am so excited to go back to France (hopefully) so I could potentially hang out with them. 

When Steven told his story to a group of us, I think I was the most blown away. Probably because I had the least travel experience within that group (which says a lot), but mostly I can't understand these first-world babies giving all of their comforts up. Since I grew up (and still am) pretty poor, traveling for me is a dream. For them, it's a necessity. Something so unsatisfying is going on in their lives that they need to give everythging up and come visit us. And, like, all we want to do is go over there and experience some sort of mind-luxury. I'm not saying big hotels and first class, I'm talking about some intellectual luxury.
I am so fed up with Uruguay... I can hardly find any people to talk to, I have been looking, too. And in the past three weeks, I have been close to violence more then I would care for. Three times, me or someone who was with me has been assaulted or robbed. It's bullshit and it's ridiculous and I don't want to be around that kind of violence anymore. 

My mother tells me vioence happens everywhere, but it's so tangible here. It's not like it used to. I'm afraid to walk anywhee, and my taxi budget is growing constantly.
So, Europe, you may be all sorts of fucked up, but expect me there soonish.

In other news, I died the tips of my hair pink!

zombies and self-deprecation

I have been writing a 10 minute short film script about two people who fall in love in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Think “Before Sunrise” but with zombies.

via

I am writing the “important” dialogue now, the parts that are supposed to grab you... the quotable parts. The philosophy and theme. But I find myself too stupid and disorganized to do this. I think every time I write I try to summarize what I think about everything, ever. The absolute truth according to me. But it's impossible, more impossible in a movie, even more in a 10 minute short. I wonder if every writer goes through the same process.

Right now I'm at the part where I don't give a fuck anymore and I write a joke about Jesus and a blogpost about my nightmare script.

I kid I kid, I actually really like this project. But I find myself being stressed out, the way I hadn't been since I was in college (which, hey, dude, wasn't that long ago) and I figured out that it's the only way I can actually do things and push myself. I drank mate today and I was able to work for a couple of hours. If I could only do this every day. I guess what I lack is not intelligence but lots and lots of drive. And maybe prescription drugs.

via

I'm sorry I don't write more often. I don't know how I did it in Paris every day. I am sorry for myself I don't write more often. With practice and routine comes truly great stuff, which I'm not producing right now. Nothing I think is interesting. Maybe I'm just bored with myself.

Maybe November is just really hard on me. You know, because of IT.

But I did get my Italian citizenship this month, which is cause for celebration. I am going to Paris soon. I am starting yet another new life and I'm super excited. I need to fill myself with new people. And hear new things, even if I don;t create anything new or like, give anything back. I don't think I will ever be one of those people. I don't think I can ever be recognized for something unique or new. But sometimes I surprise myself, only myself. I've retrograded into that, but it's okay. I can bullshit it well this time. Some people seem to believe that only because I have traveled and studied in fancy places that I know what I'm talking about. Tip: I don't.

Ssssssseeeellllllf deprecation!!! No, but really. I feel fine about my role as a listener. I just hope that's enough. And now, for some light bed side reading: Derrida. See? I can be an intellectual!

something something on the bus

Today I had a crazy day. I woke up at 6 (lies, I put on my alarm at 6 and snoozed it until 7:10, then hurried the fuck out of my apartment). I got to work juuuuuust in the nick of time at 7:45 and waited for my students who are always late. Only one showed up. Like half an hour late. Then, I had two more classes back to back. After, I ran home, ate, and took a bus to Colonia del Sacramento.

via http://diegorj.tumblr.com/

There, after a three-hour trip, I gave another class. Now on the way back, squeezed next to a burly man on the bus, I'm on facebook instead of writing my short film (another story for another time). But, before I got on the bus, I went to a food cart to eat a hamburger and these two young guys were there. I was sitting there, eating, and one of them “whispered” to the other: “she's beautiful”. I dont know if they were a little deaf or what but I could totally hear what they were saying. It was kind of adorable, so I stuck around for a little longer. When the "whisperer" ordered his food, the other one said “and if you can include her, it would be great too”. He whispered that too, but I heard it.

I thought it was nice because they weren't saying gross shit about me, and I miss that. Here in Uruguay, all men say the grossest shit to you down the street, and even if it's not gross, they say it to your face, they invade your space. If you say something back, you're a slut, if you say something MEAN back, you're a bitch. Its like, fucker, you invaded my personal me time FIRST, I get to say whatever the fuck I want! But these guys were just saying that I was beautiful. It was refreshing, they didn't even try to talk to me (which is a smart move, cause they would have gotten shot the fuck down).

What the fuck is it with men and that behavior in this country? What in my face makes you think you can talk to me? This is why I've resorted to big ass headphones and sunglasses. I can still tell that they say shit to me, but I can ignore it safely. But I have a problem. I just cannot ignore it when they know i've heard them. I just have to say something back. Ill even call them a fag, which is the first thing that comes to mind, even though it's awful, because, poor fags, what they ever do to me?

YAAAAYY GAYYYYSSSS

If I ever forget my headphones or ipod or make eye-contact and I get cat-called (it should have another name, it's so gross), I will call their mother a whore. That's just the way it goes. You fuck with me, I rape you in the ass with a sharp stick. God forbid they touch me, because I will break their hand. Or at least twist their arm, like, a lot. It's happened before. And then I get called a bitch or crazy, by other women even. But whatthefuck, what they are doing is a violent act, even if they just use their words. It makes me SO ANGRY, they are violating my identity as a woman, and as a person.

It's like they dont believe I am real, they think they can just say whatever to me. What happens after, when my self esteem is shot, when I feel like a piece of meat that people just want to stick their penises in? When I cry myself to sleep, or just feel shitty for a couple of days? No man, if I say something back, the anger just floats away, and I get to resume a conversation with my friends or go about my day like nothing ever happened, knowing that that man will probably think twice before saying something gross to a girl he has no authority over.

Or maybe I have anger issues, one of the two.  

<3

no sleep till colonia del sacramento

I can't sleep. Again. I noticed, however, that this is because I like a girl. I like several girls. I like all girls! Again! And thus, I can't sleep; I go through different scenarios in my mind, playing out different outcomes to my awkward phrases, what I could have done better, etc. It's all very new and exciting. But I can't sleep. So, there's a correlation between me liking girls and me not sleeping. 

What.fucking.ever. At least I think about something other than how shit my life is because I'm so broke. Now I think about how shit my life is cause I'm so alone.

Maybe it's cause I keep doing this.

So no sleeping is a blessing. Lots has happened in my life since I last wrote. I have more friends now, different friends, international friends. People who are interesting. And do lots of drugs. I've been a bad girl. In the best most delicious kind of ways, and I just want to keep getting yummier and yummier. I also found out that the girlwhoshallnotbenamed was, in fact, seeing someone else and I KNEW IT MOTHERFUCKERS I KNEW IT. I actually feel better about myself, it doesn't mean it's anything I ever did, it's just that she is unreliable and met someone else. End of fucking story. Fucking finally. 

... 

Although, with summer very fast approaching, I do miss a hot body on top of my hotter one, but we'll see what we find eh?

Today it's 26 degrees (80 F) out and I see people without their shirts on, which makes me infinitely happy. Other things that make me happy: my mother's apple crisp with vanilla ice-cream, wearing skirts, smoking weed, girls with long hair, buying cheap nail polish. Things that make me unhappy: my perpetual state of motherfuckingbrokeness, being away from my friends, forgetting things, like my headphones in this exact minute. That's a pretty short list if you ask me, so I'm alright.

PICUNRELATEDLOL

I've always been afraid to do many drugs or drink too much, but I think that shit is actually making everything better. Yay for drugs!

Right now im on a bus going to work like 200 kilometers away from home. I go there and go back home every tuesday and thursday for the next two weeks. It's not great money but I dont have anything else to do. However, I made the mistake of taking the non-direct bus and this motherfucker has been stopping every time, letting people in an out. The seat next to me has seen a parade of mothers with babies, older smelly people, and, as of right now, a young girl who is very loud but seems nice. She looks about 15 and has a ridiculous interior accent.

Have you guys seen Pretty Little Liars? Because it's terrible but I watch it every week. 

When I travel by bus the same feeling overcomes me once and once again. I see a post, or a piece of garbage by the road, an individual electrical cable, and I think, fuck, has anyone else ever in your life ever noticed you? Probably not, I think, so then that makes me the only person ever who has ever noticed this thing, sitting there. A great big pressure begins in my body and I feel extremely big and extremely small at the same time. Sometimes when I close my eyes at night I feel the same pressure, but I am also floating. The darkness inside my head feels intermittently huge and tiny, my body, the same. I used to feel that a lot more when I was a kid. I hated the feeling and now I miss it. It was like being naturally high, questioning your own size, the universe, the darkness. So, I'm glad I can't sleep and question my own smallness.

I can't fucking believe I forgot my earphones.  

sunrise

Let's see. It's 5:45 AM and I am awake. I don't have to be at work until 7:45. I woke up randomly at 4:00 and have been on the computer for about an hour now because I couldn't fall back to sleep. I've been writing a story about a rapist. yaaaaaay. I'm also listening to the Buffy Musical soundtrack. 
These past week has been very very strange to me. It was my birthday, which is always... weird. Growing up, more freedom? new friends IS THAT A(NOTHER) WHITE HAIR???!? Yeah, it's like a roller coaster of social and existential anxiety throwup. For me at least, for the last couple of years. I don't presume it will get any better until I turn 40 and I just give up. 

Anyway, I had a fight a fight with a friend that is not even resolved at the time I am writing this. So right now I may have lost a friend, or, you know, not. It actually hurts a lot thinking about it, so I'm not gonna write about it until there is some clear definition to the conflict (hahahaha lau that only happens in movies this is real life). 

But it got me thinking about friendship in general (OHMYGOD now I'm listening to "Under your Spell"... you Buffyphiles know what I'm talking about -- Tara was so awesome). 

"You make me cum - plete!" Joss Whedon is SUBTLE. 

I take friendship seriously. Like, very very seriously. I could win at friendship if it was a sport. Competitive friendship (it's called the internet). Since I was 15, my friends have HAD to become my family because I was so far away from home all the time. And they did, some of them. I have many sisters and foster moms and brothers and etc. Making friends is choosing your family, it's awesome! I don't  understand people who only stay with one group of friends forever and ever... There are so many awesome people and I always wanted a big family! And I've got one! I've got a family member in every continent! (Except Australia). 

hey you

But homie, I work for these friendships. I am so not perfect, and I get angry too easily and I come with baggage and you will have to listen to me complain about my father and shit, and I get moody. But I care, and when I say "te quiero" it really - really - mean it. I know not a lot of people, including some of my friends, share these feelings, or at least not to the same power as mine, which is hard sometimes. 
Also hard? Feeling half a person most of the time because your sisters and brothers are not there with you. 

This in an incomplete thought process. I might come back to it. 

pic unrelated, but isn't this shit cool?

Okay, moving on. Last night I went to to my first class  on script writing. We watched bits of Back to the Future and talked some theory, so yeah. The teacher is young and seems very smart and informed. Some of the people taking the course, however, seem older people with nothing better to do. Many of them didn't know who Lynch was... which, like, okay, but... no. I'm a snob? No, I'm a film student. Fuck off, you cannot not know who David Lynch is. WHATEVER some other people seem pretty cool (90% men, and the other girls are uncool and annoying -- no lesbian love for me there!). 

she... wasn't there

Speaking of lesbian love, I'm insane and I had a huge step back this weekend. Maybe it was my birthday thing. Maybe because I've been dreaming about my ex like every night. But I messaged her... didn't play out so well. I have temporarily closed off my Facebook out of embarrassment. 

(Giles' song is playing now, and I kinda want to cry)

You guys I'm watching the sunrise from bed this is actually ridiculous. My apt has the best view ever, actually. The sky is blue and yellow and green and orange. The buildings are black and the sea is purple. The street lights are still on, flickering? The Uruguayan state can't afford very bright lights, maybe. Which is okay with me, this city is fuzzy at night and that's fine by me. The birds are chirping -- loudly -- and there are very few cars out.

this is not montevideo, this is bolivia. i took this pic <3

Thankfully I think today won't be bad. Even though I only had two hours of sleep, I feel pretty positive I won't start crying as I do the dishes like I did on Sunday. Or that I won't sleep ALL day like I did on Saturday. Or that I won't wait for my mom to go to the store so I could contemplate disinfecting my pair of scissors. 






okbye

self diagnose // just an update

I haven't been very good about writing lately. I mean, I never am, but this is special. Because during the past week or so I have actually been thinking. It's like I'm midways, suspended in gravity, along a deep pit. I was looking down, but now I am looking up. I can see some stars, whereas before I could only see more brown.

I have ideas, ideas about films that will probably never be made, ideas about how to decorate my room, ideas about the appropriate way to trick a girl into kissing you. Setting: She has curly hair and doesn't want to go too fast, and you're okay with that. For the first time in ever.

via this person

My birthday is next weekend. Saturday. It will be my first birthday in Uruguay in five years. No themed parties, no summer birthday any more. I turn 24, which is a blah age. I met a guy the other day and I had a really funny conversation of which I was the star. I like when people think I'm funny. He couldn't believe he was talking to a pretty girl who was funny. I laughed it off, but it's pretty sad. The people in this country need to chill the fuck out. Maybe the summer will bring shorter skirts and some more laughter.

I got bad news the other day from the Italian embassy about my citizenship. It's apparently one year behind. And if I want to apply for my masters in Sweden and not pay for it, I need my citizenship. For other things too, like, moving the fuck out once the fall here starts again and I can go be with my J and be able to work in Paris. I realize I just can't be without her. You know those people who move places for love? Well, I want to do the same, but for friendwife love. And the italians are cramping my fucking swag.

Speaking of J and I, we went to Buenos Aires when she was here. It was very cold. She met A who is a very good friend of mine and I just knew they would get along and talk about arty shit I have no clue about. Although me and J fought A about how good Buffy was because A doesn't like it, which I think is a travesty, such a great post-modern show, not being appreciated by one of the most intelligent people I know. Oh well.

J and I did very touristy shit but it was great. Being around her is like a human SSRI inhibitor. I just feel fucking happy. I'm lucky my soulmate is not someone I have sex with, because that fucks shit up. We are forever.

We looked at the pretty colored buildings and danced until sunrise and had lols as we missed out boat coming back to Montevideo. Buenos Aires is a weird city for me. I don't really like it, but, goddddammmmn is it much much bigger than here... There are things TO DO! I mean, if all else fails, I guess I could move there, getting a job there will probably be not hard.

i took this one

But I'll try New York before I try Buenos Aires. Its size scares me. And there are no black people there, which is unacceptable.

Holy shit this post has been about nothing. Here's something I thought about when I was looking down at the mud. Imagine the robot voice from Fitter Happier saying these things out loud.

SELF-DIAGNOSE

non-voluntarily anorexic

fictionally paranoid, high functioning virtual paranoid

bipolar with a twist of anxiety

selective attention deficit

party junkie

panic self doubt

chimeric body issues

oedipally complexed woman

bicultural depression; the open veins of pachá new york

chaotically simple minded

unextraordinarily intelligent

lazy fuck