Thursday, August 14, 2008
There is a story to it, a dance. A fight. a music. a culture. a community.
Rising up from brazil in a time where martial arts were illegal.
Taking my first class today (with my mother, and a friend) I worked out till my blue american apparel tank top was a sweatrag. immediately after, everyone had birthday cake and discussions about a famous teacher who was visiting the group-
and it struck me. Unlike tae kwon do, nobody here was trying to hurt anyone. And there were people of all shapes and sizes jumping around doing spins I can't do. putting my cartwheels to shame. kicking+ drumming+ sweating+ cartwheels+ spinning+ nice people+ a good backstory= I'm sold.
Capoiera, contanct dance, belly dance, hula hooping, stilt walking.
my to learn list for 2008.
Edited more pictures today! attraction series pics:
That's London and Amsterdam. Marsaille is yet to come.
Some days, the first thing you do when you wake up is roll over and sleep more because theres some dream that you need to follow for just one more moment.
this was one of those days. one of those lay out in the sun reading Female Chauvinist Pigs while wearing a skimy bikini and body oil. eat blueberries and plums day.
But then I recieved a distressed facebook message that could be summarized as saying that my ex hates my guts, never wants to be my friend, and wishes I didn't exist. Oh, and could I stop sleeping with his friends?
I responded that I'd love to be friends. that his hatred is probably unhealthy and he should learn to let it go. And I do exist. Oh, and cute new mohawk, darling.
You'd think that when you breakup, the fighting stops. but somehow this has presisted nine months and (for me) 12 sexual partners later.
There is something about traveling and not taking things personally that really lets people handle things calmly, even with a bit of humor. A few years ago I'd have been fuming, but right now- I can't remember the last time I was angry.
emotions I haven't felt in months:
Remind me later, to write about the secret to loving yourself. Because I do.
I love myself. sometimes, I kiss my own shoulder and think "hey, I like you."