On brazilian men and other things....

Ooh, it's been a long time since I've last updated you on my life here in Brazil. I'm sure you ran out of things to read about a month ago, and for that, I apologize. I've been too afraid to type out such long summaries of my existence here, especially when I know I'm just far too honest and unafraid of the truth to lie to you about what's really HAPPENING. "Well, what's happening?" you may ask yourself. And I might say, "GURL, sit yourself down and let us talk." 

I'm sitting here drinking a peach nectar and Malibu's Coconut rum cocktail that I've created for myself and eating a banana pastel while trying to quickly recover from the awkwardness that I've just encountered. I've been in school, trying hard to focus on my studies, trying hard not to miss my significant other, trying even HARDER not to crave maple syrup, and trying unsuccessfully to maintain my sanity (I kid, I kid). If you ask me what September was like, I'd say, "It was too long." And it was. September feels like the longest month of the year, like it has 45 days or something. I get lost in September. I get scared in September. I get overly anxious and paranoid about life in September. I feel like September is a closed space and I'm claustrophobic in September. It's ridiculous.

 The first couple of weeks were interesting and yet boring as hell all at the same time. You can no longer experience Bahia as a tourist when you have a SET routine (and you are trying actively not to get that ass robbed). I have a regular life these days. I sleep in til' noon. I wake up. I look for food. I get some outfits together. I play some Erykah Badu and lament about the uncomfortable mattress to myself. I read a chapter of a book or reorganize my desk. I reorganize my shoes. I take a shower (it's been a cold one, these days). I might paint if I have time. Most times, I'm getting ready for class. I go to class. Sometimes it happens. Sometimes it doesn't.  Then I come home. I have hilarious, off beat, conversations with my host dad and uncle. Then I skype and tumblr myself to bed. And wake up in the morning to do it all over again. How are classes going? They're going well. I'm just hoping to prove my detractors wrong, prove to them that I can get all A's. We'll see how that goes. I've been absent a lot during the beginning because I caught a sickness from hell. It was horrible. I went to an actual doctor because everybody begged me to, and he told me I was "recovering" and gave me two prescriptions for some expensive ass medicine that I did not yet have the money for. And guess how much that non-medical advice cost me? 

$R250. That's like...147 dollars and some change. Not including the medicine. 

After recovering from said sickness from hell, things looked better. The sun looked brighter, the sea was bluer, the world was more peaceful (in my head). But I began to experience some inner turmoil. Like....what in the hell do I want to DO with my life? I can't just bum it out. And living abroad is driving me to the poorhouse. And well, I don't want to end up in a profession where the details of my life that I am most proud of can be used against me to silence me into shame or withdrawal from my career/greater society so.....I will NOT enter politics. Whoa. Not going into politics? Against the advice of all who know me? All who think that I would be a great politician? Yeah, I upset quite a bit of people, namely my parents. Sorry kids, I want to be an artist. Preferably a starving one. So, this 4-day thought session ended in an epiphany that caused my mother to hold back tears and give me a weak re-affirmation like, "You can do what you want baby, as long as you buy me that house.." OK, Ma. So now I've decided that I want to be a filmmaker/director/cinematographer/painter/poet person....wish me luck with that. 

My skype dates got progressively better...and far more interesting. 

I have narrowly escaped death by motor vehicle twice. 

I like my classes. My painting teacher, who is GORGEOUS, was like, "You should be a model for our class. You are so beautiful that we want to paint you." And I'm like, "Awww, shucks. Thanks y'all." And then I look around sketchily, put my headphones back in my ear and continued to paint. She does this every class. And buying those painting materials every two weeks is the biggest pain in my ass.

My Lit professor, who is also GORGEOUS, was like "Can you please stay in this class? We value your American insight on these stories." She adores me. I can tell. The feeling is mutual. My Portuguese class is a lot more enjoyable because it's shorter. And our Prof is the cutest, most hilarious dude ever. He's just so chill. And I can say the same for my other two male profs as well. If only I could take these people with me....

My host dad has decided to play gender-bending games in our household. I am now known as Antonio Luis. His son. Alright, DAD. We also have had some pretty deep discussions about self-esteem, queer identities, corrupt politics in Brazil, race and poverty in Brazil, and love. I'm beginning to think that this man is my soul parent. Like, my real parent who has just been separated from me in spirit. We are so alike and we get along so well. I don't want to leave Brazil because I don't want to leave HIM. 

Shio, the dog, is still blind (of course, hahahah). But I think he likes me more. He stopped trying to sniff his way to my bed to piss on it. Now he just comes in my room to sleep on my floor and curl up next to my feet. We have an understanding, I think. Graça hasn't changed a bit. I think she still thinks I'm weird. I'm okay with that.

I have yet to make another cheesecake. The second one was sent straight from heaven though. I swear. And well, I finally bought groceries for myself. I've been hungry a lot lately. I think I've gained weight, but other people say that I've lost it. I'll go to Bompreço tomorrow and step on the scale in front of the store to check.

Did I say that I've been painting more? Well, I have been. I don't claim that the images are my own. I just paint other paintings so I can get credit in class. Eventually, I will have my own artistic visions/interpretations. I'm waiting on that.

I watched a man get arrested by the military police, kicked and stuffed into the back of their truck. OK, Brazil.

The Americans, down here? Yeah. I'm not going to even open up that post. But I will say that I've met some more really cool people. Namely, my homegirl Diana. And I'm still besties with Leo and Vivi. Even though I haven't seen them that much lately, they still make MY LIFE here worth living. I love them more than they know. 

I have signed myself up for Driver's Ed, swimming lessons, and boxing classes, as well as a 30-day gym membership upon my return to Portland in the Winter. I'm GEEKED for it. I will know how to drive, how to swim, how to kick ass, and how to stay sexy. All things that are necessary for my survival. LET'S GO!

I finally worked up the courage to tell my host dad that my bed was immensely uncomfortable and he bought a small mattress pad for me yesterday. The pain has been alleviated.

Something is wrong with my right foot. I find it nearly impossible to walk on it without feeling a serious amount of pain. Here's the trick: there's no visible cut, wound, or bruise. Somebody wanna clue me in? I went to the club last night, and while the DJ was trying to get his mack on, my foot was SCREAMING for me to sit the hell down. I'm clueless as to what is going on with it.

Overall, I'm content with life. But today was strange. My hair turned out horribly. My foot was not cooperating with me today. I slept in past my alarm. I didn't ever actually eat a real meal today. All I had was 2 bowls of cereal, yogurt.............shrimp kabob, banana pastel, rum. Not looking good on my end in terms of appetite, yo'. Then when I was coming home from my test today (which was CONFUSING and it was English, big fail on my part, but I think I did well),  I decided to go to the festa that was happening near the beach. I was hungry, not necessarily intending to party. I was in line for a pastel when this dude named Santos, who I had met two weeks earlier popped up. In my head I said, "SHIT. Here he goes again." I had been ignoring dude's calls. Now, he's in front of me and I'm searching for rejections in Portuguese. The book is in my backpack. How awkward would that be to take out a guidebook to help you reject somebody? Ugh. So then I accidentally told him we would hang out tomorrow. And he put his arm around me. And I tried to be sneaky and maneuver around it. But I had a shrimp kabob in one hand. A banana pastel in the other. And a backpack. Lord be the fence. He walked me home....I couldn't think of how to say..."Don't worry, I got it. Like, I can take myself home." He didn't get the signals I was trying so VERY hard to throw. Like, I'm not single. And I'm not interested. And I got to my gate and turned around to say Bye and he kissed me. I pulled away and looked at the doorman like, "PLEEEASE OPEN THIS GATE< PLEEEASE." And he buzzed me in and I closed the gate and waved, "Bye" and quickly walked away. And dude watched me. Until I got in the elevator. And he kept waving. I'm like....do you not know that you don't just GO FOR IT. You don't just 100 percent it like that. At least let me give 20%. Damn. I'm SO mad right now.

And so I told my host dad. And my host dad was like, "Stay away from him and others like him. Unless you want to be like the girls in your group, looking for some to hook up with, then stay away. It's messy." 

Advice I will follow, Daddy. I will.