... use to equal pain for me.
Not anymore, thanks to the beautiful people who create iMac computers.
We moved it from where initially was, and it is now in a position which allows me to work in bed. Lots of pillows in my back, one huge furry one as the desktop (this one would fit a Ken Russell movie, I ll post pictures later...), and the screen comes down to the slide out bit of the desk, so it is so very near me, I feel in a home cinema.
The Mac system isn't as evil as PC users make it to be. I had countless friends and acquaintances scaring me on the point that Mac isn't compatible with most programs... well...I don't see it.
Safari is used exactly the same way as explorer or Firefox, just little bits and pieces which, thanks to Sarita's eagle eye and intelligence when really needed, I'm sorting with a book she spotted at the local library: Mac OS X Leopard, portable genius, by Dwight Spivey.
I'm not sure what we have is Leopard actually, but the general system contents fits, though for someone like me it takes more than one reading to *get* it, I sorted one of the things that was bugging me, as to how to open a link in a new tab. It takes just a bit of concentration to get rid of the Windows habits, and I'm way far from mastering this computer....but, as I was saying, programs are not a problem at all, if anything, Mac simplifies life in general: I did not have to download a program for each of our digital cameras, we don't need to get speakers or lots of USBs cables and earphones for Skype (which knew as soon as I entered the site which system I was using!) , and I have a CD of Adobe Photoshop Elements 2 for Windows AND Mac (thank you, Wokka, you may nlt be in our lives any longer, but have certainly left a huge legacy in tutorials and software!) , just a question of remembering to bring it to my bedroom and download it.
I took sometime last night, as we had some TV watching to do (Sarita is watching the bochornous, poor quality British try to emulate High School Musical, Brittania High, and we can't miss the new series of House and Laws & Orders...!)
Sat at the Pc in the living room, and started investigating ways to make space there, so Sarita can go into her dress up dollies sites and, most important of all: msn messenger.
I refuse to install messenger in the iMac.
On investigating and cleaning, moving and deleting, organizing and defragmenting, I realized how far I have come into this technology thing.
I know women my age who hardly want to go near a mobile phone, let alone a computer, and here I am, almost self taught, 10 years after my first experience with one machine.... got the PC to work almost like a year or so ago (before the spyware invasion and the Nikon D40) and still have all my precious photos and music.
Not only that, A couple of weeks ago, before Halloween, I gave Gary (next door marvelous neighbor) our old-old PC, a Packard Bell on Windows 2000, the one we bought in 2001 when coming back to the country, which was full of precious music files (all my old Brazilian music and pretty much everything I loved in my ...errmm... youth? well, you know what I mean: the over 1000 files from when I discovered and fell in love with Kazaa Lite.
There were also the scanned photos from before digital, my first photos with the Kodak Easy Share, all went to live comfortably in our external hard drive which, even after all these files moving, still has 96% space available.
So: life isn't treating me all that bad.
As I was writing just now a thought came to mind.... am I describing facts, or trying to give myself an incentive?
And I don't really think it matters that much.
It has been on analyzing things like these that I came afloat a depression of my life having lost the quality it use to have,the frustration and anger at not finding the way out, not having my family and life time friends physically closer, it has been this kind of crystal that gave me back my (reasonable) sanity and allows me to give my precious child the quality of life she deserves....
The glass half full
The cloud and it's silver lining
No hay mal que por bien no venga...
Nao adianta chorar encima do leite derramado.
So,
if I'm writing for description of facts or simply to make myself aware of all the good that is going on to distract the mind from the lack of money or the many dis-functions my body is acquiring day by day..I honestly don't care.
The lack of money is so global that I hardly need to explain myself in this one, but even in that one there is the good side: I have taught Sarita to like most things, and we take pleasure of creating new food from whatever we have left and, after all, though most of the money was presents and I had some discount in store thanks to my friend Clare, we did pay for the iMac....
On the physical side of things it gets a bit tougher:
I had to accept that there are days in which I cannot get dressed on my own, that I cannot have a shower or bath if no other person is in the house, because of the falls (and I do have a shower seat), that driving to Birmingham and back on a sunday to attend the BBB....
is not an option any longer, my legs would barely take the ride to Whaltamstow.... I had to accommodate in my mind a concept which I wasn't, and think I ll never be accustomed with: life without a proper job...
.. but even this I have found a positive side for: would Sarita be who she is if things went differently?
would I have time as much as I have now to be there, to actually be able to enjoy the High School Musical, Cheetah Girls and Hannah Montanas of life if I did go back to a full time, consuming job?
So, I could be here forever, as I'm comfy and snuggled up under the duvet, surrounded by furry cushions, but I reckon I ll stop here.
In a message I sent to Alex the other day I was saying how I recently discovered what my most horrendous problem is when writing for others to read: I do know what I want to say, I have an idea, but, in the process of trying to be descriptive and making people who may have not knowled
ge of the background.... I wonder away of the idea, nd up forgetting or not having much energy left to finish typing...
And here enters another concept I remind myself of constantly: Vox, though has given me some beautiful, talented, geniuses of friends, is where I choose to write for my child.
The most important thing then is that she will remember these times the way I'm feeling them now.
Did I say what I came to say?
Probably, yes, today.
Now I need some food!!!
more iMac stuff coming soon!!!!!!
...has turned into a common occurrence in this life of mine.
I suppose I should feel happy because it's tears of joy am shedding and not those of frustration that so tortured me a couple of years ago. And this may sound common too, or even taki, ordinary but, I feel like I've come a long way.
I'm growing, learning.
And one of the desicions that most cost me to make and put into practice has taught me big time too.
In 2005 I decided to turn into a bit of a recluse. I stopped going out, not only within the kinky gang or the London Lezzie brigade, but just stopped, plain stop having a social life.
I knew a couple of things then:
One was that Sarita needed some special attention, and the other that I wasn't getting any pleasure of having a social life, something had to change, and it was NOT within people who constantly label life and write new Bibles that I was going to achieve the kind of change that would be positive in my new acquired status of disabled person.
My reclusion also reached the online life: I stopped visiting each and every site I belonged, change my email addy, and only gave attention to an amateur photo site, Fotothing.
Of the past three years one of the biggest influences in my *socializing* again has been Vox, then Scrapblog.
But, see, I'm not one to make endless *electronic* friendships.... despite all the good that has come out of my online friends, my enjoyment of the human race is best when in the flesh and blood (preferably with a pulsing heart)
So, why is it that I keep immersing myself in sites where 90% of the brilliant people are North Americans, Canadian, Australian? Is my daughter right? should we move to the US?
I thought about this once or twice, but discarded the idea for reasons I'm sure don't need a written explanation here (I can hardly afford to become a British national.....imagine start all over again to get a Green Card!!!)
So I kept looking. I joined the UK Voxers, the Londoners Online, all groups which could have something in store, the creme de la creme of the Brit talent.....
Funnily enough, it wasn't in any of those groups that I found her.
There was Iliask, this bright, inteligent boy in Greece who left me speechless with so much wisdom for one so young, so I kept checking his blog. Then one day, there she was. This Greek Girl.
She is sharp,intelligent, well read, brilliant writer, furhermore: she is strong enough to admit her overloaded guilt, and he is about to marry a Jewish boy.... what a recipe, what a delight. And she is in London.
Though I'm not very inclined on giving *advice*, one day she asks for it, straight forward: *What do you people think about this* she said......
I wrote a word (well, yes, 10000, you know I don't do things by half!)
And then it started a beautiful communication between 2 different generations that, at points, seem to come together in one and same....
And then one day I find that she has given me a Brilliance Award for my blog, and posted something, there it was, my name, my blog, amongst these amazingly gifted writers, all these people who make a hell of a difference in this world...there I was, little me and my adventures with my baby Sarita...
It may seem silly to you, but at that time I was feeling a bit low, especially having trouble writing: this Good Greek Girl gave me the push I so much needed that night. It was a great thing, it brought huge positive change to my life.
I started feeling for this Greek Girl like if she was part of my family, a niece or a cousin...
We talked about getting a coffee.
And then one of her last posts gave an indication of a very particular nuance of her fiance's character:
I HAD to meet her.
So we organized it.
From the minute they arrived to the minute they left, delight is a small word to describe the feeling these two brought into our lives.
People like them give me strong hope for (and excuse me if I'm being a bit selfish here) my daughter's future.
Being able to enjoy an evening like that is something joyful.
When they left, from the minute they crossed the door and for another 40 minutes, Sarita's song:
*He is so hilarious!!!!they are sooooooo COOL!!!! they'll have a great marriage!!! they'll make great babies!!!*
she is a good judge of character, my daughter, that I know. She rarely gets it wrong with people.
I spent an hour or so filling the dishwasher, listening to Wicked and singing along, tidying up the kitchen. Then a full on day yesterday. Today, finally, I got to turn the Mac on and try to write in bed. Here I am, late again, as I had to take a sleeping tablet last night after physical pain took over because of so much driving and running around yesterday....but good thing, I had the luxury of being able to stay in bed all day.
Sarita went to her friend across the road, they went to the Chinese take away and brought me food, made me cups of tea....good, relaxing day. Then I come to Vox.
Then I read this post.....
Something similar to the day with the blog award invaded me.
And yes, I cried.
I cry a lot these days, mostly on emotional happiness, Thank God.
The words she wrote had an advance on the text I got the morning after, but all these together, on *paper* for all to see....it means a lot to me. Not only because it is so important that I confirm I am doing a good job on my parenting, but also because these are two people I respect and admire, and being able to give people like them a moment to relax is gold to me.
So, Alex & Ashley, Thank You, big time.
For the visit, for these words.
And remember Auntie Cynth's doors are open, any time :)
PS: Sarita said she apologize for not having made the pancakes, she was very tired, but, as you are *so cool*, you ll have to come one day again and this time, she promises! :)
I'm not one to post forwarded emails, and you probably have seen this before, but I ve just got it on my mail, in Portuguese, sent by a very good friend of mine. I had a laugh, so I transalted it (maybe not too well) and here it is:
Do you ever wondered what nationality Adam & Eve were?
A German guy, a French, an English and a Brazilian contemplate a painting of Adam & Eve in Paradise.
The German says:
"Look at the perfection of the bodies,she: esbelt, graciously sculptured, slender. He, athletic body,those perfectly profiled muscles....they have to be German.
Immediately, the French answers:
"I don't believe so. Is evident the eroticism that transpires from both these figures...She, so feminine, He, so masculine...They know that soon the temptation will arrive...They have to be French."
Waving his head negatively, the English says:
"Absolutely not! Note the serenity of their faces, the delicate pose, the sobriety of the gesture....they can only be English"
After a few more seconds in silent contemplation, the Brazilian declares:
"I don't agree.
Watch closely: they have no clothing, no shoes, no house, they are in deep shit, thy only have one apple to eat.
But they don't complain, they are cheekely thinking of sex and, what's worse...they believe they are in Paradise.......
They can only be Brazilian!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
...of being blessed, of having beautiful, simple things that make my life one of the most amazing things, despite the physical pain, despite the frustration that (some other times) comes with the side effects of that physical pain....
Some days I have this feeling.
Today has been one of those days, since early morning.
My sleep paterns are changed, have been so for a while now, as in my effort to be able to cook and help Sarita with homework and being able to share those hours after school, work out the new computer....I need to stay in bed in the morning, and, I have to admit, when you (well, I) read a lot, it is more than difficult not to give up onto the sleeping more. Especially if you are in England. Who in their right mind would not wanna go to sleep when your body is killing you in excrutiating pain and one look at the window above you show you this watery scenario?
Not me. I sleep.
So in the end I stay awake when my body is at it's best, and now we have a computer in my bedroom and am 80% more comfortable...sometimes my staying up goes onto 4 am.
So, this morning I woke up after 3 hours sleep to see Sarita off to school, we have coffee together, just I stay in bed.
Then I read a bit, after finishing Patricia's book I reasume my Son of a Witch.
As I'm starting the page, my cel rings:
*- Mae, look at the window....*
There she was, waving and jumping up and down, throwing kisses at me, my child.
This beautiful child of mine who wants to wear make up and high heels, who wants to talk about the tattoo she will have when she is older, who makes plans about the sport car and the Land Rover she wants to give us....there she was, being a child, waving at mami from the road, on her way to school.
She does that often, but hadn't done for a while.
I felt proud and a tear or two went down, and this feeling of blessing was stronger than ever.
We have been getting lots of cheap DVDs from the local library, and, in our beautiful living room, redecorated by us around last Christmas/New Year , we cuddle up to watch and, most of the time, laugh out loud and do little sitting dances, some others cry like babies (or old women!).
This feeling again: despite all the financial turmoil, the difficulties in many areas of our lives, this feeling of being blessed, even as my body cries in an agony too complicated for words.
It is that Simple Abundance thing again.
And this afternoon something else brought the feeling.
I got, in the second post, R.G. Ryan 's book
I went straight to it, and, as I read, the feeling of being blessed by having met these people, (as I ve just finished reading Patricia's book too) the feeling of that Simple Abundance again.
I have to say: I had as a policy the no spending money in books. Why? as asked myself, Why pay money when London has one of the most marvelous library services, most of the books reviewed in the past year or so as the best I have read as a library loan...so, why pay?
But when I met these two, both Patricia and R.G., I knew I HAD to buy the books, because not only did I know I would love the book, but also I knew I had to contribute for these people to carry on writing....
I'm now really praying for ShushNow to get her book out. Here is a girl I would love to help in anyway possible.
So there.
3 am in the morning here in London. I better go to sleep.
But I'm going to sleep with a really, really nice feeling in my heart.
Even if my body is at the opposite feeling.
G'nite.
or Amethyst Monroe has a dream.
This was a play written by Ruby Goldstein, resident writer at Sarita's school (she wrote all the other plays Sarita performed in too, like the Baden Powell). They mixed film with stage performance, and I had this pictures for quiet a while, I think the play was sometime in the end of june or beginning of July...
The other day I decided to post them in Flickr, but didn't think they were anything particularly apealling on their own, so here is what I did.
I found a group called The art of Pain in Flickr, and thinking that was some kinky thing (yeah, oh well...LOL) I went to see, and I was surprised by some amazing artists, people who produce some great stuff who also suffer from one condition or another.
One of the most amazing ones is a girl called PopCornFeet, I ll get around to post a link to her and some of her stuff, she does ACEO cards, very popular in the US...
Here is my digital art, the best therapy I have : Scrapblog :)
...but I cannot go to sleep yet, as I have some casserole which needs to cook until 2am, so, I came to this computer and found it asleep (the iMac), and when I woke it up, it was on Sarita's last post , as she left it.....and I had to smile.
She has been driving me lunatic lately, but if I am to compare with other kids around us.... anyway.
Congratulations USA.
I have to say, Sarita came back from school saying that most of the kids are talking about it saying that he will get shot ..... I had to advise her not to comment about that in Ceji's last post, as we would not want to water the party, but it got me thinking....
As I have said many times, I know little about the politics of the USA, but I know Lula wouldn't have been my candidate either, still, I have to admit that he has made big time changes, got Brasil out of some of the worse mess I had seen in years....and that, the job of leadership of a country as big and diverse in many issues as Brazil is...not an easy job.
So, like Ceji said: it is not something that the USA will see changing in days or months, but I'm quiet confident that, if allowed to work hard, Obama may be for the US what Lula has been for Brazil...
Last night I finished Patricia's book, bit I'll wait to write about it after all this election frenzy has calmed down a bit...
...as I'm ill. Horribly ill.
It started on saturday when Sarita was sick until 4am, I thought it was the amount of sweets, but no.
It was a *tummy bug* as the doctors call it here, which she caught from the next door children.
On top of that stomach upset (which wont let me eat, I couldn't keep anything down) I have a cold, my vocal cords are so bad that my voice is gone.
Sarita didn't go to school today, I stayed in bed and,I guess this would be the good side of it, I have been reading Patricia's book
a great read, marvelous in fact.
My body aches.
Are you voting for the party that you're registered for?
well, unfortunately, I cannot even vote in this country.
After almost 20 years of hard work, tax paying (quiet a lot actually!) and the disaster they performed in my health, when I decided I wanted to vote, becoming a British national costs the extraorbitant sum of £655, being that the only money you ll get back if they deny you the right to British Citizenship is the absurd sum of £80.
the other ridiculous thing is the test they submit the applicants to: my friend Betty did it, I helped her study, and I can tell you with total assertion: probably an 80% of the British population would NOT be able to answer the questions....
oh well....
...has made it's way into my day (saturday).
But lets start from the beginning, which brings me to almost 2 months ago.
We don't do Halloween in SouthAmerica.
Sarita started getting acquainted with the concept of Trick or Treat when she was 5, in 2001 when we came back to England and moved into this place. We live in a council estate, but as beautiful one as it goes, and, though the adults aren't precisely a kind and neighborly community, the children have always been in and out of our place, most of them would come play in the communal gardens in front of our balcony because here we had cookies, cakes, juice and face paint. Yup, I was the official make up artist of the estate for the first few years.
So, for over 7 years the kids here do the Trick or Treating thing, never a problem, as a matter of fact I know of neighbours, even outside the estate, who look forward to this date, even people who have very grown up kids. They are just nice people who have seen these children growing up.
When deciding what do wear, a couple of months ago, Sarita mentioned she would invite Georgia, her best friend in school (whom, I have recently learned, nobody in the class likes and my child defends), but Georgia's mum thinks Trick or Treating is begging, Could you tell her we are going to the cinema or something?
errrmmmm
Nope.
I know this kid's mum, she is a nice girl, very early 40s, English, with a nice family structure and another daughter from a previous marriage, no longer with Georgia father either, so I know what she goes through. I would not lie, says I, but I can't explain that here is safe and maybe she will let her...
She did.
So, when I was invited by Patty & Hugo to this amazingly great party, I had to say no.
I wont go too much into it but last night I was the make up artist, the dress up helper, the pacifier and organizer, as Lauren was here from Hemel Hempstead (she used to live next door, moved when Nora, her mum, died).
Later in the night I would have to act as the psychologist too, when Lauren saw Sarita s blog and started crying because Sarita wrote that her mum died....I most defitely wont go into that one.
So....
Off they go, and in I go next door, Charlie was having his 3rd birthday party.
I had a glass of wine, and another.
And another.
On the third one I remembered I hardly had anything to eat, so I stopped, but not everyone has my will power and alcohol concious mind: they were plastered.
So, in the balcony, the scenario was lots of drunk people remembering Nora and ....I was green.
Green, I was Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West (hey, SouthAmerica IS west of the UK, isnt it?)
I couldn't cry, I was green.
I suspect I wasn't the only green thing on the night.
Something happened today and Sarita suddenly started throwing up, she was very sick from 9pm until 1 am, I helped her out, I bathed her, gave her water, cleaned her again, made the bed so she could sleep in my bedroom, so luckily, she was here when waking up being sick again.
I know, they eat lots of sweets.
Why isn't that I cannot take away from my head the eyes of a particular girl who was there, next door, last night, as I was talking to one of the boys about what s going on in my life at the moment?
and I haven't even talked to my mum yet, she ll rant about the Evil Eye and the necessity of NOT talking about stuff.
Anyway, she is asleep now, Thank God.
Here is Me as Elphaba, probably not the most favouring photos but I couldn't ruin the Nikon with green make up greasy paint, I look fat and old but maybe that 's the way I'm looking lately?
haha
maybe.
Who cares, not me, npt right now, I had a great time !
Just hope Sarita wakes up well tomorrow.
G'nite.
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