Friday, 13 December 2013

The middle

My life is made of beginnings, a Lot of beginnings. I don't know anything else.
And although everyone says those are the best times of everything I, myself would love to know how middles feel like. How does it feel to be in the middle of something. Anything. Something that takes longer than a beginning. For how long can I take all my endless beginnings to finally make it a whole? A middle.
This isn't a normal story: beginning, middle, end. I don't even care about the end. But what about the middle? How does it feel?

So far, and without counting long holidays or in-betweens (a few), I've lived in 30 different places. This can't be healthy.

1st December 2016: going on 36...

Monday, 4 November 2013


Labels. Why do we need labels. Why do we need to be put on some social shelf. Why do we have to belong somewhere or to something.
Aren't we all complex beings made out of bones and blood and guts that can not only feel but dream, think and react?

Labels. We are more than labels. Yes, I do like this more than that. It doesn't however state what I am. For each one of us is a lot. A lot of feelings, dreams, thoughts and reactions.
One day we feel like we're on the top of the world, the next we're in the gutter. One day we need closeness and attention, the other we need loneliness and distance. One day we wanna dance and stick our tongue to taste it all, the other we just wanna lay still and hide inside an oyster.

Labels. What you hear doesn't define you. What you wear doesn't define you. What you do doesn't define you. Where you were born doesn't define you. Where you live or lived or will live doesn't define you. Nothing from your outer world defines you. What defines you are your feelings, your dreams, your thoughts, your reactions. What defines you is deep inside, between all those bones, blood and guts. And for that there is no label for each one of us is unique.

Monday, 9 September 2013

Moments of insane lucidity

Where better to study Mankind than on Facebook? Where could one find so many different demographics in a single place? The human world explained on a sole website.

We are the gods of our own puppet show and we are the puppets. At the same time that we watch all the plays happening as from above we are as well the main characters of those plays.

It can be dangerous though, if one tries to delve too deeply into it.
Wasn't it common among the philosophers from other eras to eventually end up insane? However, it is also of our knowledge that such only happened in their late years.
Comparing our modern times with theirs, how long would a philosopher live today? Not much for sure. The amount of information we take every single day is so incredibly humongous that the philosopher would be mentally ill within a couple of years.
That is why the intellect has to know how to distance itself from such thoughts now and then, so it won't be overwhelmed by the absurdities of Mankind. That is why the intellect has to know how to laugh, how to play, how to be foolish and simply go along.
The philosopher from today should never go as deep as the yesterday’s philosopher. He has to keep it light, for our 'Brave New World' is smaller than ever before. And the smaller it gets, the more complex it'll be.

"Madness is tonic and invigorating. It makes the sane more sane. The only ones who are unable to profit by it are the insane."
- Henry Miller

We may be the strangest animal on the planet but we also are the most interesting one.
Our abilities to work both mind and heart. Our sense of an own soul. How many hidden mysteries inside a human being.

Monday, 2 September 2013

All emigrants are 'bipolar'

(August 26th, on an airplane)

All emigrants are 'bipolar'.
A young couple sitting by my side on the airplane. They speak both Portuguese and German perfectly. They change from one language to another with no possible traceable reason. For there is none.

I am too an emigrant. There, I said it. Years ago I would say I'm just studying abroad, then I was a mere freely, then a student again. I Am An Emigrant.
Socially speaking though, for in my mind there aren't frontiers, we're all the same, we're human and we're the strangest animal on this planet. Period.

But back to the couple. I'm puzzled. I try to find some sort of pattern, particular lane changes, subtle paths of thought. Can't find anything. Zip, niente, nada.
Odd feeling when I know I do exactly the same. Wait, even a tad more. I think, dream, write and even curse in three languages. What does that make me? A 'tripolar' emigrant?

Oh well, does it really matter? So what if I speak in all three? Dream, write? Curse? Ain't I a citizen of this planet? The whole freaking world?

So, dear neighbour couple, go ahead and delight me with your back and forth change of language.
Words are there to be used and it is wonderful when one is able to use them in more than one tongue. How narrow, how sad it must be to be constrained to a single one.

Wouldn't it be marvellous to comprehend all of them? Although… the unknown spiced with delightful mystery is much more interesting and actually quite necessary for the mind training. Just imagine, if we’d knew everything, what would be there more to learn?

Wednesday, 14 August 2013

"You can't put your arms around a memory."

You can run from the Past, you can even hide from the Future but you will never get rid of the Now. The Now is omnipresent, the Now is everywhere and at the same time.
And as I write these words they become the Past, when once they were the Future.
This was Now.

Sunday, 7 July 2013

Inspirational Kindness - A small conversation between a master and a pupil who have never met.

(About the book "Thirty Rooms To Hide In", by Luke Sullivan, shortly after its publication.)

Hi Luke,

I decided to answer here your "Thank you" to Rumble Pitch aka Myself for in Twitter you're only allowed to talk the 140 characters language:

It was my pleasure, I loved your book! Like “The Shining” only funnier indeed! And I even still need time for the book to sink in. And those are the best kind of books.

When talking about your father's addiction I felt there was more to it, a different kind of emotion that didn't quite fit in with someone who suffered the addiction as a third part. Not that it wasn't disturbing enough, giving the family awful scars for life, but through all the anger, despise and pity I felt a deeper reason within, somehow different. And so the final words in the book didn't surprise me and even if not expected I finally recognized that other hidden strong emotion about the evils of addiction.

Myra came to me as one of the great mentors I've known and read about. She didn't discover anything like Marie Curie or won any battle like Jeanne D'Arc and if it wasn't for you we would never know her story. And yet there is a woman to look up to. A woman who fought demons from the inside out, who brought 6 little boys safe to good port with a bigger luggage in their souls than they could ever carry. A woman silenced by a world of men with a heart of a giant. A true spirit that although it can be broken, it never fades away completely. A woman I’m eager to be.

Thank you so much for sharing your story with all of us. If I was already deeply impressed with you through your great Copywriting bible, which is always nearby, now the respect is even grander. Your life with all you had to go through inspires me immensely.

I’ve been moving from place to place since I was a little girl, meaning having to start all over again with new friends and new playgrounds. And so, my imagination was very useful for all those “in-betweens”. I can’t imagine how deep you all had to go with your own inventiveness.

That you used laughter, sometimes hysterical laughter to cope with all that is more than comprehensible and in a way it also reminds me of “La vita รจ bella” from Roberto Benigni. With a slight difference though, you all knew what kind of demons you were trying to cover up.

Thank you!

My very best wishes,

“Dear Penny:

You are a doll to write such a long and thoughtful email to me. I am SO glad you liked the book and I even passed on that paragraph you wrote about my mom TO my Mom. I am sure she will dig it big time.

And I am glad you liked the epilogue, where I reveal my own "membership" in the addiction club. In previous editions I had cut that chapter. Felt too Hollywood-y of an ending too many. Too neat. Too much closure. But I put it back in. Glad you liked it.

Pass on the word. The little book needs all the help it can get.” 

Memoir -- "Thirty Rooms To Hide In" -- Intro trailer

I think it's wonderful that you left it in so that everyone knows that not even the ones that lived with the terror are free from it. And why not such a closure? This book would actually make an awesome movie.

I'm so delighted that you've sent that part to your mom and so deeply honored. It's not every day (more like never) that you actually get the opportunity to tell what you think to people you admire.

I sure will, this book deserves it, you definitely deserve it. You're a living inspiration.

Thank you and all the best to you, your Mom and your whole family.

Monday, 29 April 2013

The taste of globalization

Finally a small break... One golden Desperados beer, brewed in the Netherlands, flavoured with Tequila, originally from Mexico, and for a better accuracy, born in, aha!, Tequila City, imported to Portugal, brought to Lisbon, delivered at an Indian kiosk where a very handsome Indian boy with amazing green eyes works, and ultimately bought by a 'sort-of' Portuguese girl. Here's to Monday!

Saturday, 27 April 2013

'Fuel your dreams'

You are full of dreams. So full they transcend your whole being. They're so many, they're so intense that you don't know where to hide them. You try methodically to put them in different shelves of your brain but they keep on going back to your soul. Your soul is so crowded that your heart seems to burst and even skips a beat every time a new dream is born.

But what would be of you without all of your dreams? You are your dreams. Your heart and soul grow everyday because of your dreams. So keep on dreaming, higher than reality. 'Fuel your dreams'. Freely. Passionately. For without enough fuel, there's not enough drive.

Wednesday, 24 April 2013

Nomads freedom

Nomads are from nowhere and everywhere. Their hearts have no frontiers. Their souls have wings of their own. Their minds are always wondering. Their bodies, wandering.

Oh the nomads, they are free, so let them be! They "roam around, around, around"...

Saturday, 20 April 2013

Sail away

One day I will have a windjammer of me own,
And I shall call all ports, behold, another home.

Yet on the last days and nights of me life,
I will sail me ship away till the day I die.
And on that day with the sun real high,
I will lay deep in this sea of mine. 

Monday, 8 April 2013

It's all about the story

Words are like tiny yet incredible strong living creatures with the power to move the most disparate audiences. Words ignite whole worlds of imagination that not even the most beautiful image in the world can offer. A good image might be a feast to the eyes but its story is what makes it great.

Word by word into a phrase, phrase by phrase into a world.