Ayo kita nyanyi..suaranya yang keraaaas…tangan di tepuk , hentakan kaki juga…yup lebih keraaaaas….biar dunia dengaaar

First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
without you by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on
and so you’re back
from outer space
I just walked in to find you here
with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed my stupid lock
I should have made you leave your key
If I had known for just one second
you’d be back to bother me

Go on now go walk out the door
just turn around now
’cause you’re not welcome anymore
weren’t you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye
you think I’d crumble
you think I’d lay down and die
Oh no, not I
I will survive
as long as i know how to love
I know I will stay alive
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my love to give
and I’ll survive
I will survive

It took all the strength I had
not to fall apart
kept trying hard to mend
the pieces of my broken heart
and I spent oh so many nights
just feeling sorry for myself
I used to cry
Now I hold my head up high
and you see me
somebody new
I’m not that chained up little person
still in love with you
and so you felt like dropping in
and just expect me to be free
now I’m saving all my loving
for someone who’s loving me

Stiu ca sunt cam rapid, mai ales ca mi s-a tot spus in ultima vreme , dar acum am gasit mesajul de la tine si vad ca este dat chiar in aceasta dimineata. Curios este ca si mie imi venea sa o ascult iar tu mi-ai dat motivul!

In continuare o sa iti ofer o piesa care mie mi-a picat destul de bine cand …… nu eram in apele mele, sa spun asa, si anume

Oricum sa spun sincer, am remarcat cel putin la mine, ceva de genul “ai grija ce dedici ca e posibil sa ti se intample!” . Ideea este ca am afcut prostia sa dedic niste melodii pentru cateva versuri care le simteam, dar fara sa analizez restul piesei care se referea la altceva. Tocmai ce nu analizasm am ajuns sa o simt pe propria piele. Deci sper sa savurezi piesele, cel putin prima de care spuneai si nu uita: STAND AND FIGHT!

Si oricum, o spun din proprie experienta, ca melodia urmatoare o sa o tot fredonezi, dar cu zambetul pe buze!

In questi giorni I Will Survive di Gloria Gaynor compie 30 anni: ne approfitto per pubblicare una particolare versione dedicata alla memoria di Andy Hallett, l’indimenticato Lorne.

Testo della clip (angel 2×01 Judgment):

“First I was afraid.  I was petrified.  Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side.  But then I spent so many nights thinking how you done me wrong, and I grew strong.  And I learned how to get along.
- Oh, you know what I’m talking about.  In this city you better learn to get along.  Because LA’s got it all: The glamour and the grit, the big breaks and the heartaches, the sweet young lovers and the nasty, ugly, hairy fiends that suck out your brain through your face.  It’s all part of the big wacky variety show we call - Los Angeles.  You never know what’s coming next.  And lets admit it folks: Isn’t that why we love it? -   I’ll survive.  I will survive!  Hey, hey!”

Zaterdagochtend, het is heerlijk warm onder de dekens maar ik sta op want er wacht een belangrijke klus op me. De doos is nog steeds dicht, maar ik scheur hem met veel genoegen open. Er blijft wat tape aan mijn handen plakken, maar dat geeft niet. Na wat heen en weer geloop liggen de witte, nieuwe planken op een rij, netjes gesorteerd op grootte. Ik sla de handleiding open en check of de materialen die ik tot mijn beschikking heb (een schroefmachine, een sleutel en een hamer) de juiste zijn. Ik kom er achter dat ik alleen de bijgevoegde inbussleutel nodig heb, maar ach, wat maakt het uit. Vol goede moed begin ik aan wat mijn splinternieuwe Ikea kast moet worden.

Stap één: ik heb wat houtstaafjes die ik in de gaten moet stoppen. Gelukkig heb ik toch een hamer want de houtjes schijnen vandaag geen zin te hebben om in de gaten te gaan. De eerste twee planken zitten aan elkaar vast, met een glas jus d’orange in mijn ene, en de hamer in mijn andere hand, kijk ik zelfgenoegzaam naar het begin van mijn kast. So far, so good.

Maar het lachen vergaat me al snel. Plank 3 en 4 blijven niet op hun plek omdat ik de eerste twee planken bij elkaar probeer te houden en ik dus armen te kort kom. Nog maar een handleiding check dan… Daar staat het, de naakte waarheid, de confrontatie die ik niet wilde tijdens mijn bouwvakdag. Een plaatje van één mannetje: hij kijkt beteuterd en er staat een groot kruis door hem heen. Op het plaatje ernaast staan twee mannetjes, elkaar lachend aan te kijken boven de planken. Schijnbaar mis ik dus de ‘Ikea-spirit’ én zijn ze bij Ikea vergeten een hulpmannetje in mijn pakket te doen. Niet getreurd. Terwijl mijn voeten plank 1 en 2 in bedwang houden, ram ik de rest van de houtjes in de duidelijk veel te kleine gaatjes.
Een half uur later en halverwege mijn klus, sta ik op instorten. Mijn grote joggingbroek is gescheurd en Anouk verbeterd mijn stemming ook niet als ze me ‘Loooohooost in this world’ toezingt.
Met een sigaret in mijn hand ga ik gefrustreerd op mijn (eveneens zelf in elkaar gezette) Ikea-bank zitten en staar naar de kast. En ik ben boos: boos op Ikea en boos op de kast.

Plots besluit ik: “weet je wat, Ikea-kast, jij en ik gaan geen vrienden worden. Want jij bent een kast en ik ben een mens en jij gaat godverdegodver naar mij luisteren!”
Pissig pak ik de inbussleutel op en begin als een gek de schroeven in de kast te draaien. Maar natuurlijk, ik heb niet alles waterpas zitten (wat overigens een hulpmiddel is dat niet op de checklist staat) en dus zitten de gaten en de schroeven niet precies op de zelfde plek. “Maar denk je echt, kast, dat ik daardoor stop met jou in elkaar zetten en de komende drie jaar mijn tv op de grond zet en elke dag simpelweg over jouw planken heen stap?!”

Ineens wordt het doodstil in de kamer, zelfs Aretha Franklin blijft even steken in haar woorden. In slow motion pak ik de hamer op, en heel even denk ik dat ik de kast stiekem naar de deur zie schuiven. Als een losgeslagen timmerman ram ik de schroeven één voor één in de kast.
Met een kracht waar ik zelf van sta te kijken, zet ik de kast rechtop. En als een echte bouwvakker, met mijn broek veel te laag en mijn haren wild voor mijn gezicht, sta ik te grijnzen met mijn handen in mijn zij.

I will survive, for as long as I know how to love I know I’m still alive!

Last year I wrote a tune titled “Wikipedia Brown”, using the format, policy and idiosyncrasies of that wholly addictive interweb entity as a literary vehicle to illustrate various aspects of my romantic past and present.

I did not realize at the time that my title was shared with some bigshot actor-comedian jerk named B.J. Nor was I aware that I was soon to become a pioneer in a groundbreaking new sub-subgenre of love songs: those making explicit mention of Web 2.0 phenomena.

Exhibit A: “Google You”, a forlorn lament penned and set to music by art-star couple Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer:

Exhibit B: “Are You Fucking Kidding Me? (Facebook song)”, by Kate Miller-Heidke (who admittedly is otherwise unknown to me):

Despite the surprise and humor of hearing references to relatively new fixtures in our cultural landscape, there’s nothing extraordinary about communications technology making an appearance in our popular sentimental songs. 1899’s “Hello! Ma Baby” mentioned the telephone, developed a mere thirteen years earlier (I hope you’ll presume with me that new gadgets did not pervade our common life so swiftly a century ago). More recently, I recall cocking my head when Billy Corgan sang about Caller ID, or when ‘Licia said in the love rap to “You Don’t Know My Name“: “Hold on, my cell phone breakin’ up”. Though I suppose it’s worth noting that these newest works are distributed virally by the very media used as subjects.

Each of the two examples, however, seem to have clear antecedents in terms of sentiment. “Google You” is a stalker song, not unlike “Every Breath You Take“, while “Are You Fucking Kidding Me?” has clear strains of “I Will Survive” in its lyrical code.

Not to toot my own horn whatsoever, but I’m having a hard time identifying the ancestor to my own number. Can anybody think of a song that obsessively catalogues one’s amorous trials and triumphs without analogizing to an interactive, collaborative, user-oriented information hub? Do you know of any other Web 2.0 love songs, so that our new musical movement may have more than three hallmark compositions?

Daca esti in cautarea a catorva minute de relaxare, zambet si voie buna…

atunci iti dedic “I will survive” interpretat DEMENTIAL!!!!

This morning, I’m showing you how to deal with and help the root chakra energy vampires in your life.

What’s an energy vampire? It’s somebody who sucks you dry, whose emotional garbage harshes your mellow.

Notice I didn’t say fix. I was saying fix last week, but that’s not accurate.  We just weren’t put here to fix each other.

Each energy vampire is sucking energy through a specific chakra. That sounds so weird to say (but it’s true).

What is a Root Chakra Energy Vampire?

A root chakra energy vampire is someone who does not feel whole in their root chakra, the one that’s at the base of the spine.

This chakra pertains to survival and tribal identity.

These people are the neediest of the bunch. They make lots of comments about not surviving.  Lots of comments about how they just don’t think they will make it (when really there is nothing wrong with them or their situation).

Root Chakra energy vampires may also talk about what burdens they are and how people don’t like them. They are the sad sacks of the energy vampire world.

They are the first to tell  you how bad their lives are.  The first to say, “Don’t get your hopes up.” or “This only happens to me.”

Everything bad happens to a Root Chakra Energy Vampire.  They don’t get the close parking spots. Their soup is cold.

Call the Wah!mbulance!

Root Chakra Energy Vampires actually believe that they will not survive. They are operating from a place of fear.  Getting them to move out of that place of fear is difficult, but not impossible. And once they feel like they can survive, they often thrive!

How to help a Root Chakra Energy Vampire-

Sometimes Root Chakra Energy Vampires need psychiatric help and medication.  Root Chakra damage is a sign of depression.  Depression is a debilitating disease that is outside of the scope of this blog post.  Getting somebody help for their depression is an act of great kindness.

The thing that Root Chakra Energy Vampires hate to hear: “It’s not so bad.”

This is something really fun to say to them, because it takes the drama out of their statement.  It invalidates their “deep pain”.

Day-to-Day Dealings

One of my kids has his root chakra moments. I give him 5 minutes to get the whines out.  I’ll say, “Okay, you have five minutes of my undivided attention to tell me how sad your life is, and then we’re going to focus on something else.”

He usually can’t fill the five minutes.  And then we stand and stare at each other.

This works with root chakra energy vampires.  If they aren’t offended, they feel listened to, and they can focus on how to feel better.

They might get offended that you think they whine a lot, but let’s face it, root chakra energy vampires know that they are the whiners of the world.  They know it. They’ve invested a lot in their sad faces.  So they get 5 minutes and then they are not allowed to whine.  And if they can’t stop, you tell them that you can’t be around them when they are whining.

Not very nice?  I know.  But it’s very kind.  Because you are simply saying what others are actually thinking and then, doing.

What if you’re a root chakra energy vampire?

That overwhelming fear of not surviving is hard. That concept that everything bad happens to you is very difficult to live with.  The thing is, it’s not reality.  And once you resolve the issues with that chakra, you will feel a lot better.

You can hire someone to facilitate the healing of that chakra.  I work with this chakra often.

You can also foster that nurturing environment for yourself. Be your own best patient and sleep, eat good food and exercise.

You can play positive songs about survival like, “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor and  ”I won’t be your Yoko Ono” by Dar Williams.

You can also wear the color red and do yoga poses that support the first chakra (like the standing forward bend and the bridge pose.

Filling the Bowl

My favorite way to support the first chakra is a meditative act called “Filling the Bowl” .

Imagine the space created between your hip bones and your tail bone.  This is your sacred bowl. Imagine it as a bowl and then fill it up with rocks. Then imagine the rocks disappearing and fill it with warm brownie batter.  Then imagine the batter disappearing and fill it with apples, or buttons, or whatever appeals to you.  You can fill it up with a color. Whatever.

This will fit you more solidly in your body, and will support your first chakra.

So, there you go.  Tomorrow, we go after the pernicious 2nd Chakra Energy Vampire.

________________________________________________________________________________________

This is the last week of the Intuitive Guidance and/or Past Lives special! Get an Intuitive Cupcake O’ Guidance!

- And so you’re back from outer space. I just walked in to find you here.

Finalmente (de novo). Teremos Cake no Brasil, caros. 16 de novembro, segunda-feira, no Via Funchal. Além da banda americana, o Indie Rock Festival também traz Gogol Bordello e Mombojó.

ps: sem querer pedir muito, mas bem que podiam trazer Dandy Warhols conforme prometido ano passado. Afinal, de festival sem palavra e desorganizado, o nosso país tá bem servido.

_update: uma salva de vaias pra organização inútil do Indie Rock Festival. Cake não vem mais ao Brasil. Teremos Super Furry no lugar.

Sposa o sposo? Nel mio barenglish pronuncio un timido “husband”. La cortese signorina bionda (finta) mi indica un signorino efebico che mi fissa come fossi un capretto che sguazza nell’erba prima di Pasqua (sguardo affamato? no, affranto) e fa: “You are for the groom, follow me”. Occhei.

Sembra la notte degli Oscar in versione “riserva”. Non c’è traccia dei Coen, di Tarantino, di Soderbergh. Hanno tutti declinato. Non è un Paese per farabutti, l’Italia. Dal lato sposa invece si è formata una reunion delle ultime dieci edizioni dei Telegatti (Gabibbo incluso). Il nostro tavolo, retto da tacchi a spillo fetish, è un cuore; i segnaposto piccole tazzine da caffè espresso; i sottobicchieri hanno la sagoma in miniatura del noto vermouth torinese. Intorno a me ci sono signore simpatiche come un uovo sodo strozzato in gola. Non sorridono, mai. Deve essere il jet lag, il botox, i vestiti che le imprigionano come una camicia di forza oppure i trampoli ingioiellati che hanno ai piedi. Gli uomini, che sono decisamente pochi rispetto alle donne, si controllano le sopracciglia a vicenda. E ridono. ‘Sti americani. Giocherelloni.

Mentre i camerieri ci innaffiano di champagne, si sente volteggiare sulle nostre teste un elicottero. Sono gli sposi. Sorvolano il mare (siamo su una gigantesca nave da crociera) e i fotografi, a bordo di sommergibili, impazziscono illuminando il tramonto con i loro flash. E’ lì che ceneranno gli sposi. Sull’elicottero. Mentre gli invitati, ai tavoli, spacciano farmaci contro il mal di mare. Pane frattau con caviale accompagnano il primo brindisi della giornata. Sottofondo musicale: I will survive cantata da Marco Carta. In sardo.

I beninformati dicono che ci saranno due torte: una per i fotografi (la classica americana su più piani) e una per gli amici più intimi: un gigantesco triangolo rosa impreziosito di diamanti sulla quale la sposa dichiarerà il suo amore allo sposo dedicandogli un pot pourri dei suoi storici stacchetti. Peccato che nessuno si gusta lo spettacolo. Inizia a piovere. Gli invitati corrono in cabina. E noi apriamo gli ombrelli (4).

Com todo respeito com a @andreahiranaka e seu querido Music Pills, mas eu também ouço música. Ok, meu gosto é conhecidamente duvidoso, a ponto te me olharem esquisito por saber letras de coisas como Baila Comigo, Ragatanga ou Prometida. Mas ainda assim vai um post sobre covers. Sei lá eu o motivo, sai em busca deles e com a ajuda do @FilipeAugusto, selecionei umas coisinhas pra dançar na cadeira enquanto trabalha.

Cake – I Will Survive

Leighton Meester – Betty Davis Eyes

Travis – Hit Me Baby One More Time

Franz Ferdinand – Womanizer

Glee – Somebody to Love

Valeu tb @nilsonjr pelas sugestões e pelo Chico Anyyyyysio que não sai da minha cabeça =P

Fantastic melodic acoustic duo Chris Berry and Mick Clarke are back together again this Autumn with four shows already organised. ‘Mick moved to Spain a year and a half ago so we only get a window of about a month or so three times a year when he’s back,’ says Chris, lead singer and manager of the duo that sometimes plays as a three with Charlotte Hesp.

CHris Berry & Mick Clarke as CMC

 ’Charlotte has just given birth to her first baby, Harry, and all is well,’ says Chris, so she can’t be with us for this tour. But she’s definitely still a part of us and we will miss her.’ Bringing their own special brand of electro acoustic music and great vocalising both Mick and Chris will once again be playing what their name stands for – classic music covers from American Pie to California Dreamin’ and amazing versions of Light My Fire, I Will Survive, Cum on Feel The Noize, Oliver’s Army & Babylon.. as well as other recent classics such as Hey There Delilah, Half The World Away and Use Somebody. Mick will once again be adding his Jungle Book song which proved so popular in recent times. CMC will be back in the studio again too – to record their third album shorthly. If you haven’t already heard PURE or ACOUSTIC JUKEBOX these are still both available and can be purchased for just £7 each. CMC BOOKLET FRONT BACKThey include all of Mick & Chris’ classics plus self penned numbers by Chris. If you would like  a copy please send a checue marked payable to Chris Berry to: CBM, 2 Elmete Croft, Scholes, Leeds LS15 4BE                             The first two dates are:  Friday 23 October  EAST COWICK VILLAGE HALL, near GOOLE,  Sunday 25 October  GEORGE & DRAGON, WETHERBY (starting 4pm) part of WETHERBY FESTIVAL… followed by Sunday 1 November FOX & HOUNDS, BOROUGHBRIDGE (starting 7.15pm)   Chris also writes for the Yorkshire Post every week and is presently writing the autobiography of his close friend, legendary singer Joe Longthorne, due for release next Spring 2010. ‘There are rumours that we could even be on the same bill as Joe maybe next year,’ says Chris. ‘That would be amazing. Both Mick and I would be so honoured to play in the same theatre – just to be the warm-up act would be fabulous’.

www.chrisberrysingerandwriter.wordpress.com   www.myspace.com/cmcacoustic    www.myspace.com/chrisberrysinger  www.the-fog.talktalk.net    Email:  chris@chrisberry.tv

Dear Mr. Bos,

It is with much regret that I must resign to pursue a career with a much younger crowd. I have in my mind confirmed my real inner feelings so :-

At first I was trained
I was certified
Kept thinking I could never work
without _ _ E by my side
But I spent so many nights
thinking how you did me wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to carry on (Literally!)
and so I quit
from _ _ _ _ _

I just walked in to find you here
with that sad look upon your face
I should have changed my stupid job
I should have written a better CV
If I had known for just one second
I would be quitting _ _ E.
Go now go
I’m out the door
Just turn around now
’cause you’re not working anymore

Weren’t you the one who tried to tempt me with _ _ _
You think I’d crumble
You think I’d give in and lie
Oh no, not I
I will resign
as long as I know how to code
I know I will stay in line
I’ve got all my life to live
I’ve got all my brains to give
and I’ll resign

It took all the strength I had not to disappear
kept trying hard to mend the pieces of my broken career
and so I spent oh so many nights just feeling sorry for myself
I used to try
Now I hold my breath and Lie!

And now you see
Somebody new
I’m not that chained up little person
Still working alongside you
and so you felt like dropping in
and just expect me to email
now I’m saving all my knowledge
for someone who’s paying me,
……..more money!!!!!

- I Will Resign!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Regards,

Rindut.

HAHAHA.

yak. bener. itu lagu I WILL SURVIVE. dahulu kala ketika saya jadi anak band dan eles bass, lagu pertama yang saya kumandangkan dengan betotan (jyaaaa. betotan. sok jago abis lo) bass saya adalah I WILL SURVIVE.

this long lasting song still long lasting until now <– kalimat yang sangat tidk penting

tapi yang g tampilkan diatas adalah mengenai surat resign yang dibuat berdasarkan lirik i will survive hahaha. kereeen. nearly going to die abis baca ini.

ahai really love this song becoz this is my first historical song for my band miss u, guys.

whatever, u can find another stupid resign letter here. and sample for a formal one here. pardon my laziness to rewrite it hehe.

This is a great song from this excellent movie:

Quién le iba a decir a Gloria Gaynor que una canción que comenzó como una ‘cara B’ de otra de sus canciones se iba a convertir 30 años después en un himno gay. I Will Survive cumple 30 años y la propia autora está sorprendida del éxito que ha tenido.

“¿Cómo es posible? Si yo sólo tengo 29 años”, bromeaba recientemente la propia Gloria Gaynor durante un concierto en Italia sobre las tres décadas de vida que cumple uno de sus mayores éxitos musicales. Sin embargo, cuando fue compuesta por Freddie Perren y Dino Fekaris, la canción fue concebida como una simple ‘cara B’ de un EP en el que el tema principal era Substitute, una canción que el sello Polydor quería que Gaynor grabara. Perren aceptó la grabación de Substitute si se le otorgaba la libertad para elegir la ‘cara B’ del EP.

“Freddie y Dino me dijeron que habían estado buscando durante mucho tiempo a alguien que grabara Survive”, señala Gaynor, según informaciones de la revista Billboard recogidas por Europa Press. “Leí las letras y les dije ‘¿me estáis tomando el pelo? eso es un hit, pero si se lo llevamos a los ejecutivos de la discográfico ni lo escucharán”, añade.

Una vez grabada, I Will Survive comenzó a sonar en el famoso Studio 54 y de ahí saltó a otros locales de música disco, hasta convertirse en un número uno en 1979; Substitute se tuvo que conformar con el puesto 107. En 1980, la canción que iba a ser una ‘cara B’ le valió un Grammy a Gloria Gaynor.

La cantante explica que en el momento de grabar aquella canción había superado con éxito una operación en su médula espinal tan sólo un mes antes y que por eso pudo interpretarla en los estudios de grabación “con tanta convicción”. Seguramente nada le hacía esperar en aquel momento la evolución que iba a seguir la canción.

I Will Survive ha sido versionada más de doscientas veces por artistas tan distintos como Diana Ross, el grupo de rock Cake, Régine -en una versión en francés- la cubana Celia Cruz -que la versionó en español- o los propios R.E.M. El tema se ha convertido, con los años en una himno identificado con la liberación de la mujer y de los homosexuales.

Para celebrar el treinta aniversario de su ‘hit’, el 27 de octubre se lanzará una versión digital remasterizada de la canción, tanto en inglés como en español, además de una balada escrita por Gloria Gaynor He Gave Me Life (I Will Survive). El CD con las tres canciones podrá adquirirse en www.gloriagaynor.com

So many very notable things have happened to me so far in grade 10. I’ve faced a lot of fears so far and October is tomorrow. (Speaking of October- I believe that I’ll be Audrey Hepburn for Halloween.)

But I’ve also been struggling with unusually terrifying stagefright.

I am, actually, used to stagefright, but not quite to this degree, you see. (Oh my goodness, I just rhymed. )

In vocals class, we are required to sing. We aren’t required to sing solos, but we get the oppourtunity and I know that I have a talent, so I wanted to try it out. But when I am nervous, it affects my voice.

So when I got in front of the microphone, I started off alright but sort of off-key. (At least from what I could hear of my voice, but it may just be my being self-concious.) I didn’t feel so empowered because my vocals class is full of kids from all different grades, and so many of them had been in this class last year, the year before, and for even some they’d been in it the year before that.

So you see, I felt like I was trying to sing in front of so many professionals, people who knew how to sing and knew a good voice or a bad voice when they heard it. They knew all the notes and how to read sheet music, etc. They’d be able to easily tell if my voice was spot-on or if I was way off. It felt like the standards were too high, and I got scared.

I paused a little into the first verse of “I will survive” partly because I didn’t understand the lyrics in the verse. (The chorus I like though.) And I like to understand what I am singing. If I understand it, I can really put my heart and soul into singing the song.

So I started hyperventalating a little bit and my eyes started watering and my heart was pounding in my ears. I couldn’t speak, let alone sing.

I didn’t get to sing the chorus because I practically ran back to my chair and it’s a good thing I had my water-bottle.

This reminds me of my fear of heights.

Back in eighth grade my school took the grades 7 and 8 classes to one of those places that has:

Anyway, the high ropes was a problem for me because, as I said, I’m afraid of heights.

I had to climb up a ladder, then up a wooden telephone-pole thing, and from there, (forty feet up in the air!) I had to walk accross a wood balance beam to a small plank where I’d be attatched to a zipline and slide down. To the ground. Then they’d get a ladder and unattach me to the zipline and I’d walk down from the ladder. And I’d feel great about facing my fear.

Which I did, and it was great. Life-changing, even.

Except it took me at least an hour and/or a half to get through the course when it took everyone else somewhere around ten-fifteen minutes. But I got a lot of cheers when I finally stepped off the platform/plank. It felt great, and I’m really glad I faced that fear.

It was one of the highlights of my Grade 8 year.

And the weekend before last, I went on a camping trip with the student’s council, and we went through the same course. This time, I did it WAY faster, in maybe only half or less than the time I had the last time.

Afterwards, I told a couple of the other kids how scared I’d been the last time and how long it took me to just get up the ladder. (Okay, maybe I might’ve exaggerated a bit, but I wouldn’t actually know, seeing as this was a couple years ago (! has it been that long already?) and not everything’s crystal clear.)

They were all impressed, and I was even mentioned in the school paper.

They spelled my name wrong, but still.

(And for those of you who don’t already know, mispellings irritate me more than they should, WAY more than they should, and the one thing that irritates me more than that, is when people mispell my name. It REALLY is not that hard to remember!!!)

SO, my point is, that I was hysterical with my heart pounding in my ears then, too, and if I could do that, then I can do this.

The moral of my latest novel that I hope to finish is that LIFE IS AN ADVENTURE. It’ll all be okay in the long run. You’ve just got to always stay strong, and believe it.

“DON’T STOP BELIEVING!”
LIFE IS AN ADVENTURE!!!

Brave and sincerely,
Alexandra Violet.

24, female, Midtown Manhattan, working in corporate finance.  She often wonders if she peaked already, and is now just racing downhill in a speedboat full of misplaced ambition, yuppie angst, and terribly bad work habits.

8:15 AM – Rough Morning

I wake up feeling like there’s a small Mexican toddler in my belly.  That’s what a night of fajitas, rice, and sangria will do: impregnate you.

11:05 AM – He’s Actually a 12-Year Old Boy

I have a meeting with an IT guy who has action figures on his desk.  There is a GI Joe next to the family photo of his three kids.  I’m not judging… but, he also has a WWE folding chair.  I sit on Stone Cold Steve Austin’s face as he (the IT guy) explains the statistical properties of data matching.

11:45 AM – My Office Romance

Like many companies, we have to touch our ID card against a scanner to get into the office.  I have become so lazy that I’ve taken to hipchecking the scanner, because it’s too much work to pull out the ID from my pocket.  And when I have my ID in my back pocket, it’s like having a little bump and grind with the scanner: turn around, love tap, access granted, feeling good! 

…Of course, I only do this when I’m by myself.  Or else it would just be embarrassing.  

12:01 PM – Why I Haven’t Left Finance Yet

I walk outside to go to lunch and there is a huge line stretching the entire length of the street.  People are filling out job applications while they wait.  It harkens back to a Depression-era bread line, reminding me once again that jobs = food.  And even though I may dislike my job, I love food. 

12:40 PM – My Work Oasis in the Elevator

Back from lunch.  I love when I get into an elevator alone.  Usually I do some stretching.  Sometimes I sing.  “I Will Survive” is a favorite, especially given how rickety and slow the elevators are.  And because there are no (visible) security cameras in here, I feel completely justified in my elevator activities: everyone needs an outlet.

TOTALS: One hour of data mining, two work projects completed, six elevator rides, one elevator ride alone (“I’ve got all my life to live, I’ve got all my love to give”), and three love taps, with one interrupted by a co-worker who I can no longer look in the eye.

Como ser Fashion de Verdade (por Alek Fidelis)

Estou chocado. Simplesmente, arrasado. Quando o Adamastor Euclides escreveu tudo aquilo no blog, pensei: sou um lixoooooo! Bem que papai dizia que eu precisava “tomar jeito de homem”. Não aguentei, fui na minha psicô…

Foi quando ela me disse, com toda sua doçura: “Porra, deixa de babaquice e reage!” Resolvi responder a cada uma das provocações do Sr. Adamastor, não para provocar, mas para salvar as colegas desse monte de, afff, ogros.

1 – Usar cores exóticas: é suuuuuuuuper na moda. Claro, um algodão cru é sempre, digamos, rústico, mas também faz estilo, se tomar cuidado para não ficar com cara de saca de arroz, é claro, não é meu bem? Use e abuse das cores. Um rosa-cheguei-ontem-e-todo-mundo-soube é tudo de bom. Imagine-se ainda contando para as amigas que comprou um casaco de cor tomate seco. Chiquéééérrimo!

2 – Segurar sacolas e sacos plásticos pela alça: sacola plástica ninguém merece! E o planeta? Levo minha sacolinha reciclável, que comprei lá no bazar da minha amiga Luzinete, que trouxe da França. Feita de fibra de bambu asiático. Um luxo. E nem machucam os pobres Koalas. Chique mesmo, fofo, é ser sustentável, tá?

3 – Ficar parado na escada rolante esperando chegar no final: sem comentários. Como vou mostrar minha roupinha nova no shopping? Imagina, eu quero é desfilar para todos. Esses dias vi um cachecol num manequim masculino no shopping, achei um luxoooooooooo! Imagina, enquanto desço deslumbrante a escada, todo mundo olhando eu dar aquela “arrumadinha” no babado. Arraso!

4 – Tomar sucos de frutas misturadas: filhote, suco de laranja com lima da pérsia, gengibre, um toque de hortelã é suuuuuper refrescante. Aliás, tem combinações maravilhosas. Já provou um smoothie? Isso é ser fashion, tá?

5 – Dizer que gosta de sobremesa: imagine-se deslumbrante na mesa do restaurante de papai e mamãe, quando você olha no cardápio, chama o garçom, e pede, com sotaque francês e tudo, um “creeeeeepe suzete”. Amor, é poooodre de chique.

6 – Não ter cicatrizes no corpo: ui, que nojo. A Dra. Eva, minha dermô, nem ia querer saber mais de mim se eu quisesse deixar uma. Esconda. Tooooooooodas. Nem unha merece ficar quebrada, quanto mais cicatriz. Muito Shrek esse Adamastor Euclides.

7 – Dizer que vai pra praia pra tomar sol: vou para a praia tomar sol sim, pegar um bronze, ver tudo de bom que tem por lá. E tudo com um belo de um protetor na bolsinha de praia, que tem que lhe custar, pelo menos, uns R$750,00 para ser “A” bolsinha.

8 – Raspar os pêlos do corpo com exceção da barba/bigode: bem que sempre soube que o homem veio do macaco. Pelo menos o cérebro o Totô Euclides deve ter de macaco ainda. Credo, pelos? Que noooooooooooojo.

9 – Colocar luzes, alisamento, etc., no cabelo: nem devia comentar. Quem adora ficar hoooooras no salão com as amigas? Pobre. O Clidinho só pode ser um pooooobre. Queridoooo, acorda. Salão é coisa muito chique. Aliás, experimenta um creminho no cabelo de vez em quando, tá? Ficar lavando o couro com sabão de coco é um horror, tá?

10- Fazer AERÓBICA: viu, não falei? Deve ser pobre, velho, careca e barrigudo. Ou uma biba inrrustida. Sai do armário, flor. E para de ir para “aeróbica na praça”, quando é de graça. Luxo é spinning, e tudo que tiver “body” no nome, tá?

11-Sorvetinho no sábado: pobre é tudo igual. Só porque não pode ir no Freddo, no Marcolini, fica assim, com inveja. Viu? Inveeeeeeeeja. E, se for um dia, não esqueça de levar alguém para traduzir os sabores, porque o chique é ler tudo em italiano, tá?

12-Mandar email de correntes: Biba (desculpe a intimidade). Arrasou. E-mail com corrente é mesmo tudo de ruim. Mas, tem uns que são tão fofinhos… você recebeu aquele dos cachorrinhos que estão doando há uns oito anos? Um luxo só, não? Acho que até o Adamastor deve ter o seu cãozinho lindinho, nem que seja um vira-lata. Eu tenho o meu Leocádio. Um amor de criança. Meu bebezão.

13 – Beber refrigerante no copo: geeeeeente, morri. Que é isso? Nada mais saboroso e refrescante que uma coca-cola zero com limão e gelo. Claro, prefiro tomar minha Perrier com um copo beeeem decorado, masssss… que homem insensível. Vou chorar!

14 –Dançar: vai morrer sozinho filhota! Sair para dançar, com aquelas amigas lindas de morrer, uauuuuuu, um espetáculo! Acho que vou até dar um pulo no salão pra sair hoje.

15 – Perfumes: só tenho uma coisa a dizer. Pobre, pobre, póóóóóóóóbre! Ter um armário com perfuminho, creminho, hmmmmmmmmm… um sonho! Só coisa boa, é claro. E importado. Nada dessas enganações nacionais.

Olha, depois de escrever isso aqui, só um bom Martini, com gelo e cereja, claro, enquanto passo o meu creminho Victoria Secrets, para arrasar hoje a noite. Tá? Ogro. Porque eu sou é fashion, e muiiiiiito chique.

Yes, I Will Survive!!!