quinta-feira, 15 de novembro de 2007
quarta-feira, 7 de novembro de 2007
He doesn't think straight
One more time, he woke up worried, trying to remember what happened during the night and figure out what was really going on with his brain. "I think I'm watching myself getting mad", he thought to himself. Another night had gone by, another night when he woke up scared as hell because his dreams were now more true than never, making him reach the point of closing himself outside the bedroom, trying to give time to his brain to return to normality.
"- How is it possible to see your brain creating all these allucinations, and not being able to make them stop, even when you perfectly know they are not real?"
Walking to work, the ground was his only image while he thought about a sollution for this problem. He knew he seemed a little bit crazy for most of his friends, but they just thought of him as someone somehow special, the kind you like to have around. And everyone is somehow peculiar, right?
(...)
domingo, 4 de novembro de 2007
Silly thoughts I
I just like this image and feel like writing. They will probably have nothing to do with each other, the text and the image, except for the fact that I decided to put them together. A good text comes always with an image, I've come to notice, that in matter of design.
And now, what should I write about?
A blank. A large blank, I notice. I should just give up and try another time.
Silly thought for myself: Why doesn't my Itunes read my mind and just play the songs I feel like listening? I've discovered that my relationship with it is exactly like with another human being, when it comes to bring the factor "mood" around. There are days that somehow there is just this kind of harmony in between, where everything just seems to be very yin and yang, smiley and perfect; and other days when I just think it was made to annoy me for sure and that I can easily solve the problem by changing the software. But of course, I never do, just threaten.
And just now, it chose the perfect song. Will eternally love you, sweet boss of the random department of my Itunes.
And now, what should I write about?
A blank. A large blank, I notice. I should just give up and try another time.
Silly thought for myself: Why doesn't my Itunes read my mind and just play the songs I feel like listening? I've discovered that my relationship with it is exactly like with another human being, when it comes to bring the factor "mood" around. There are days that somehow there is just this kind of harmony in between, where everything just seems to be very yin and yang, smiley and perfect; and other days when I just think it was made to annoy me for sure and that I can easily solve the problem by changing the software. But of course, I never do, just threaten.
And just now, it chose the perfect song. Will eternally love you, sweet boss of the random department of my Itunes.
sábado, 3 de novembro de 2007
terça-feira, 30 de outubro de 2007
Movies and addictions
Roman Holiday by William Wyler, 1953I always said I had no possible addiction to anything, until today, when I looked around and saw myself surrounded by thousands of movies to rent without knowing what to do. I just couldn't choose. Well, I could, but not just one or two. Great masterpieces represented by small rectangular boxes and representing themselves a bit less of social life. Every time I know I have free time just for myself it's one of the first options I take under action. Without a doubt, going to the cinema and just enjoy a great movie in big scale is my favourite, but in some cities, it becomes such a luxury for some, because of the expensive price for just one session. As a consequence of that, I find myself watching some movies in my sweet little laptop and think "This would be great to see in the big screen".
In one of few cities I lived until now, loving cinema was much, much easier with Cineclube de Guimarães, where we could go to the cinema at least six times a month for a very cheap membership due. That was where everything started. My sister invited me one Sunday to come with her to a movie, and as the easiest way to convince me, she promised to pay for the first due if I became a member. I didn't know that well what kind of movies I would watch, but hey, now that I look back, there are not a lot of better things I could do than. It was mostly alternative movies, but I remember they wouldn't skip a good blockbuster one. It became one of the usuals, and it was just at the first session where I met my three-years-relationship-boyfriend, who was a part of directors team. In these three years, I was really close to cinema and to people who knew a lot about cinema. Part of my passion comes from what they "gave" me during the time I spent with them. I learned to love Fellini, Hitchcock, Bergman, Kubrick, Allen, Ford, Coppola, Kusturica, Miyazaki, Kitano, Gondry and many, many more. Creators of beautiful stories that change us a bit every time.
Cinema, as every kind of art, is a good addiction. Some say I am a little geek, which amuses me - but even they know what these good things are all about.
Other addictions: music, chips, lipstick, books, earrings and little things, coffee and rissóis!
*
In one of few cities I lived until now, loving cinema was much, much easier with Cineclube de Guimarães, where we could go to the cinema at least six times a month for a very cheap membership due. That was where everything started. My sister invited me one Sunday to come with her to a movie, and as the easiest way to convince me, she promised to pay for the first due if I became a member. I didn't know that well what kind of movies I would watch, but hey, now that I look back, there are not a lot of better things I could do than. It was mostly alternative movies, but I remember they wouldn't skip a good blockbuster one. It became one of the usuals, and it was just at the first session where I met my three-years-relationship-boyfriend, who was a part of directors team. In these three years, I was really close to cinema and to people who knew a lot about cinema. Part of my passion comes from what they "gave" me during the time I spent with them. I learned to love Fellini, Hitchcock, Bergman, Kubrick, Allen, Ford, Coppola, Kusturica, Miyazaki, Kitano, Gondry and many, many more. Creators of beautiful stories that change us a bit every time.
Cinema, as every kind of art, is a good addiction. Some say I am a little geek, which amuses me - but even they know what these good things are all about.
Other addictions: music, chips, lipstick, books, earrings and little things, coffee and rissóis!
*
terça-feira, 23 de outubro de 2007
My own eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.
Watching this movie was a complete deja vu for me.
Yes, because I saw it more than once, of course, but mainly because it reminds me of my sleepwalking and the sensation I get everytime I wake up standing in another place that not my bed. I understood completely what Joel Barish felt by seeing himself instantly in a totally different place, not understanding what, why or how that was happening. Or getting details kept in memory that don't have anything to do with each other, all mixed up.
The exactly same thing happens to me in my sleep. Usually when I'm tired, my brain creates this complex plots during my dreams, and almost making them so real to me that I wake up and try to deal with the dreamt situation even being awake. It's only at a short time of conscientiousness that I try to force my brain to understand the reality, to see where I am and return to bed, embaraced.
My first wave of sleepwalking took place two years ago - I always had this dream that I would go visit a house with some other people, and while seeing an empty room, I stopped to look for the others who were with me before. No one is there anymore nor the room is open. I try desperately to find the way out, while screaming for help, and there is no door I can find, what makes me search for a passage or a simple way out (Perhaps like Alice in Wonderland, trying to find a way to go through the small door.)
Suddenly I wake up, because somehow I understood that the things I'm touching in order to find this passage are really part of my bedroom and not of some crazy dream. And there I am standing by the wall just trying to reach a way out, feeling desperate while my heart beats so fast as if I had really no solution. And unless I find my true door or true window, there is no other passage (no true rat holes that could help me either ). I´ve been to my doctor because of this, and it probably has just to do with tiredom. What worries me mostly is not being able to have a good night sleep and also, not controlling my words that come out during the night. I remember sharing a room with two close friends, waking up in the morning and having them laugh, because I just "told them all my life while sleeping". I wonder if I can keep my secrets with me.
Yes, because I saw it more than once, of course, but mainly because it reminds me of my sleepwalking and the sensation I get everytime I wake up standing in another place that not my bed. I understood completely what Joel Barish felt by seeing himself instantly in a totally different place, not understanding what, why or how that was happening. Or getting details kept in memory that don't have anything to do with each other, all mixed up.
The exactly same thing happens to me in my sleep. Usually when I'm tired, my brain creates this complex plots during my dreams, and almost making them so real to me that I wake up and try to deal with the dreamt situation even being awake. It's only at a short time of conscientiousness that I try to force my brain to understand the reality, to see where I am and return to bed, embaraced.
My first wave of sleepwalking took place two years ago - I always had this dream that I would go visit a house with some other people, and while seeing an empty room, I stopped to look for the others who were with me before. No one is there anymore nor the room is open. I try desperately to find the way out, while screaming for help, and there is no door I can find, what makes me search for a passage or a simple way out (Perhaps like Alice in Wonderland, trying to find a way to go through the small door.)
Suddenly I wake up, because somehow I understood that the things I'm touching in order to find this passage are really part of my bedroom and not of some crazy dream. And there I am standing by the wall just trying to reach a way out, feeling desperate while my heart beats so fast as if I had really no solution. And unless I find my true door or true window, there is no other passage (no true rat holes that could help me either ). I´ve been to my doctor because of this, and it probably has just to do with tiredom. What worries me mostly is not being able to have a good night sleep and also, not controlling my words that come out during the night. I remember sharing a room with two close friends, waking up in the morning and having them laugh, because I just "told them all my life while sleeping". I wonder if I can keep my secrets with me.
But even so I continue having a strong physical and mental connection to my sweet little brain, even if I don´t intend to. As we say in portuguese, "nao fosse ele o meu".
He's probably just trying to help me having a better imagination - a good one is just the essential for someone to be happy, I think - but everyone knows that there are some kinds of help which just overwhelm you in a exceeded way.
*
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