A World for Sofía

We Are All Unquiet Minds

2012-01-03T20:02:00.004-03:00

Ethan Hawke wrote and directed a movie based on his own book entitled The Hottest State. I didn't see it, but I heard it was a piece of shit. A line from the movie (that I didn't see) stood out for me. It regards lost love: "If it hurt real bad, like a bone fracture or something, it'll ache when it rains." It's a bad line for a movie, it's a bad line for life (albeit if we're completely honest with ourselves, it will sound vaguely familiar), but taken literally, it makes a whole lot of sense. Especially when you think about depression.

I, like 120 plus million people in the world, have suffered from depression. The kind you think no one else will ever suffer or even come close to understand. I was diagnosed when I was 15 and I continue to deal with it now at almost 27 years old. I also suffer panic attacks (from time to time) and cyclothymia, a milder version of bipolar disorder.

My last panic attack happened when I was 17... and then when I was 23. I'd been okay for 6 years and when it happened again I thought my life was over. On my way home from work all I could think about was 'I failed.' How could I fail so profoundly? I was doing so well and then THAT happened and destroyed everything I had worked so hard for. Everyone said I was on my way to something great and then I fell on my face. Something as little as a panic attack became a major tragedy. Obviously, this was all in my head. I don't mind the panic attack itself; I've had plenty and who knows when my next one will rear its ugly head. What bothered me was what it represented. All those years off my meds, working hard to get my shit together, owning my moods and my mind seemed to fall apart in a few minutes. This is how I felt about it at 23 when I was just out of college and had a grownup job. Now I don't feel like Super Woman. I'm well aware of my all-around ignorance regarding everything and I know that a panic attack is just that -- a panic attack. It's over in a few minutes, and then life goes on.

I keep a journal that I write on sporadically. It doesn't narrate great adventures or fun stories that I will later retell to my friends in grandiose fashion. It's a map of my moods going from bad to rock-bottom; some entries are melancholic, some are darker. Suicidal phrases and paragraphs where I tear myself down with no hope of getting on my feet again. It's how I indulge myself when I'm down. I hate being depressed. In theory. I know there's a part of me that loves it, and it terrifies me. I'm too immersed in myself, thinking about new words to describe my bad mood and turning it into art. I'll write poems and compose songs and find new ways to categorize it. It's fun for me, not so much for everyone else. And dammit if it isn't tempting to listen to that voice that urges me to let go and stay down, to sink deeper and deeper until there is nothing but the darkness in me. My sister once told me that being depressed is a great opportunity to be selfish. I agree with her, not just because I think it's true but because it also gives me another reason to punish myself. I'm at my most self-absorbed when my moods are at my lowest.

Re-reading my journal can be excruciating . Not because I feel sad all over again or because it makes me wanna jump off the balcony. It's rough because I feel ashamed of myself. How did I ever allow myself to be that person? It makes me angry. Not at the rest of the world, but at myself. I knew this would happen. During the fall, when I'm suspended in mid-air, another voice reminds me that the harder the fall, the harder it will be to get back up. There have been times right before I hit the ground where I take a step back and try to rationalize my feelings. What am I so ashamed of? Feeling sad sometimes? Feeling anything that could easily be dismissed as weakness by someone else? There's nothing weak about being sensitive. If anything, being sensitive and showing it takes some motherfucking balls. Forget about the journal entries and venting off to friends. I'm talking about when it's just you in your head with no outlet and you have to face the real you. When you can't even look at yourself because if you do you know you're gonna break down. When you're hanging on by a thread... waiting. Not waiting for it to be over, but waiting for the next bout of sadness. Living with that every day for a long period of time will destroy anyone. Some people don't make it and crush under the pressure. But you... you're reading this. That means you kept going. In spite of everything, of the voices in your head mockingly whispering "don't bother", you're still here. That takes a lot of strength. Some may think it's easy for me to write this self-absorbed post -- it's giving me an opportunity to go on and on about myself. But the thing is, this doesn't happen just to me. There are 120 million of us out there and it's not easy to open up about it because of guilt and shame and anger. Well, fuck that. I'm speaking up.

When I'm going through a rough patch it takes everything in me to get out of bed in the morning and go about my day like everyone else. It doesn't look so hard from the outside, but ask me how badly I wanna stay curled up in a ball until it's all over. And the guilt. Jesus Christ, the guilt of not allowing yourself to enjoy moments of genuine happiness because you're too busy feeling miserable. It snowballs into something that escapes your control... but you got out of bed. That's when I remember another quote from a terrible movie called The Last Kiss (the American one) that goes "what you feel only matters to you. It's what you do to the people you say you love that really matters." And I think about that. I feel many things, but the things I do can be entirely different. Sure, I feel like shit. But I got out of bed. I met my friends even though I wanted to be alone to think about how sad I feel. There is a way out, but you need that first step. After that, everything gets much easier. Sometimes it gets hard again, but then you can pull it off. Up and down all the time, that's how it is for everybody.

I have to keep going. I may half-ass it, but I keep going. I force myself to think that if I let myself obey my demons I will never be the same again. I'll cease to live and reduce myself to barely exist. Some people say "one day at a time." That almost never works for me. I have to think ahead. I think "I'm sad now, but in five months I'll be happy." I don't look forward to the next day; I look forward to the next year. I have no idea where I'm gonna be a year from now, but I do know that wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, whomever I'm with, I'll be proud of myself. Glad to be over the rough patch, with a new lesson in my heart and with my mother smiling again.

I don't live my life one day at a time. If I do that, it's one sad day at a time. I have to see it as one small victory every day. Feeling sad? Go for a run. Feel like crying? Do it, but don't let it become the only great event in your day. Still sad? Look up funny Howard Stern interviews and laugh your ass off. Still not working? Call a friend. Find someone to hug you. Remember all those times your loved ones told you how happy you make them and remind yourself that you're capable of bringing happiness to those around you. You're not a waste of space; you're a person that matters. Remember all those times you had fun with your friends. Don't see it as a memory, see it as something to look forward to. You will laugh again, but you have to work for it. Things won't fix themselves, you have to fix them. It's hard, but it can be done. Heard this before? Sure you have. Because it's true. It's the only way out. A little victory will give you something to be proud of, and you need that. You are a person of worth. You're allowed to be proud of yourself. If you could do that little thing, you can do another little thing, and then another little thing, and all those parts will add up to something better. Something that will make you feel better. Normal, even.

I was diagnosed 12 years ago and I've done many things since then, but nothing makes me prouder than knowing that I've dealt with my depression and continued living, even when it gets really bad and I just wanna be alone, feel sorry for myself and write about it on my journal. Even at my darkest moment I'm proud of myself because I'm still here. Eleven years ago I was, in my extremely rational father's words, out of my mind. Today I have a normal life. I'm proud of myself for that. Sure, I was supposed to get better and move on. And I did it. Just because you're supposed to do certain things doesn't mean you can't be proud of yourself for doing them well.

Your depression does not define who you are. It's only a small part in a much bigger picture. It's not a bad thing. It just is, and you have to deal with it. Don't apologize for it. Don't feel guilty about it. You just happen to have it but it's not who you are. I'm not in complete control of my mind. I know I never will be, and whenever I remember that I know that I will be okay.

I'm glad I wrote about this. I tend to bury it deep down or dismiss it, which never brings me any good. But then I read this and remembered that I'm not alone. Even when we're down we can inspire each other.

Depression is a lot like breaking a bone. You may complete a full recovery, or you may have to deal with it for the rest of your life. But you have to do the work. You have to take care of yourself. Don't dismiss it, don't punish yourself for not being in control. It's horrible now but it doesn't last forever. Right now it may be raining and it hurts, but look forward to the sunlight. Spring is coming.

William & Kate: The Movie

2011-05-01T16:36:00.046-03:00

I just saw Lifetime’s movie about the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, William and Catherine, and I have only one thing to say about it: IT’S THE BEST MOVIE OF ALL TIME. I was so impressed by it that I decided to make a livetime review of this masterpiece.

00:00:01: We're off to a good start. The opening titles say William & Kate, and the & is INSIDE Princess Diana's engagement ring, which now rests on Kate's finger. The director's ability to include this historic piece of jewelry in the movie warns us that what we're about to see is absolutely and irrevocably true to real life events.

00:00:09: See?

00:00:39: This is Kate Middleton.

And this is Kate Middleton.

Separated at birth, right? The only difference is that the actress playing Kate has brown eyes, but the director was opposed to her wearing blue contacts for fear of people stalking her because of her uncanny resemblance to the real Kate. Besides, it would've made the movie look like a documentary.

00:01:12: Prince Charles walks with William. There's no use of blue screen here; the building on the back is REAL.

00:01:26: Prince Charles looks familiar...

He's the same dude who played Prince Malagant in that movie where Richard Gere plays Lancelor. This guy has a PhD on playing princes. His imdb page says he's in talks to play Princess Consuela Bananahammock.

00:02:30: A reporter informs us in voice over that William spent his gap year in CHILE, MOTHERFUCKERS. I'M PART OF THIS MASTERPIECE.

00:04:08: OMG, Kate sees William for the first time. See, Kate is coming back from a run and she just HAS to come in through St. Andrew's library. She runs with her hair down, because we all know how comfortable that is.

00:05:13: Kate goes to her dorm and she and her friends talk about how exciting it is to have William studying there. One of them has to play the party pooper, and we know it's Makeup Girl. Mean girls are always vain in these stories, while the heroine runs with her hair down. Again, because it's so practical.

00:05:39: Kate: "He's just a guy." Makeup Girl: "Right... who just happens to be handsome, sexy, rich, and the future king of England." The dialogue in this movie is rivaled only by Patrick Marber's writing for Closer.

00:07:43: Prince William has a goofy friend who loves to party. His hair is all out of place and he makes funny faces, tee-hee.

00:09:39: Kate and William formally meet. They're in the same study group. Prince William's favortie artists are Monet and Cezanne, because he likes the way they play with the light and stuff. This guy is sensitive.

00:10:36: Wait, Kate has a boyfriend?! What's happening? Where is this going???!!!

00:12:20: SPANK ME ON THE ASS AND CALL ME SHIRLEY, PRINCE WILLIAM HAS A MAP OF CHILE ON HIS WALL.

OMG, Kate was *also* in Chile! Kate and William have stuff to talk about thanks to me. Take that, Argentina...

00:18:38: Harry! On one hand, bummer 'cause he's not dressed as a nazi. On the other hand, yay Harry!

00:19:38: William is mad 'cause daddy won't let him transfer to another school. Boo-hoo.

00:20:49: William calls Kate from his private jet and tells her he's feeling a little frustrated. Like any Manic Pixie Dream Girl would do, Kate advices him to do what he really wants to do because he should follow his heart and stuff. The lack of foam in William's glass tells me he's drinking Fanta and not a fanshop (Fanta + Beer. Must. Try. Now.) What a loser.

00:22:34: Kate models for a charity fashion show. Believe it or not, this really happened.

Rumor has it that it was on this fashion show that Prince William realized that Kate was not a shemale or something, because it seems he'd never thought of her as a CILF, a.k.a., Commoner I'd Like to Fuck.

00:23:57: William wants to kiss Kate but she pushes him away because they're just friends and she has a boyfriend. Kate is the only woman in this movie who's not after William, which makes her the most interesting character of all.

00:24:59: Kate and her boyfriend break up because he's leaving and they don't wanna have a long distance relationship. This is Kate's official Sadface. Something tells me we'll see it again...

00:25:51: The guys are in a pub and William wants to play a song on the jukebox. Goofy Friend tells him to play Queen. That would be a pun, because William is a prince and his grandma is the queen and this movie wants to reminds us of this little nugget of information EVERY CHANCE THEY GET.

00:28:19: William invites his friends to one of his castles and they meet Prince Charles Bananahammock. They go hunting and William and Charles Consuela miss the duck, but Kate DOESN'T. She's a firecracker, this one.

00:29:40: William makes his 317th joke about abdicating the throne, but the joke is so genius and subtle that the more he says it, the better.

00:31:45: The prince and his friends, including Kate, move into a flat (that's an apartment in English) and they have a party. William looks at Kate/CILF and Kate looks at him, too, giving him Sexyface. Which is just like Sadface, but she bites her lip.

00:32:07: ROFLMAO, GOOFY FRIEND PASSED OUT. And he somehow managed to get a tan in Scotland.

00:32:24: William's Other Friend compares a lost bra he found after the party with Cinderella's slipper, and says he'll go from village to village until he finds its rightful owner. Hey, William is not the only Prince Charming in the room! (Fact: that's a direct quote from the movie.) The puns in this movie get better and better.

00:32:50: William tells Kate that he broke up with his girlfriend (I forgot that he had a girlfriend, I was too engrossed in the plot). They stare at each other intensely for the first time... while they're holding a garbage bag. Romantic.

00:33:33: KISSING IN THE RAIN.

The first thing I learned in film school was that rain makes everything more romantic or dramatic. This is really fucking romantic.

00:34:19: This is known as the Obligatory Morning-After Talk in film lingo. Kate can't believe how unsexy William's chest is. William is psyched 'cause he finally nailed the CILF.

00:35:11: Kate and William start a secret affair. They live in the same flat (remember: flat is English for apartment) so they sneak out of their rooms in the middle of the night to see each other. One night they both walk out of their rooms at the same time and bump into each other in the hallway and it's all like "aawww, we're both horny at the same time!"

00:36:57: Kate takes William home to meet her family. Her parents eat ice cream in the middle of the night because they're commoners.

00:41:50: It's William's 21st birthday bash and Mean Makeup Girl warns Kate that Wills will NEVER get serious about a commoner. Bitch.

00:44:00: Shit, it looks like Mean Makeup Girl was right because William asks his ex-girlfriend to blow the candles with him (just the candles). Kate leaves and says, "I'm just the girl he hangs out with, not the girl he brings home!" It appears that Kate doesn't realize that she is literally in William's home, but never mind. She says she'll never speak to him again.

00:46:29: Sadface strikes back.

00:49:37: This is Happyface.

And why is Kate happy?

Because William is fucking SINGING to her! In public! To apologize for totally ignoring her! So much evidence points to his actually happening that this serenade has its very own Wikipedia page. Look up Royal Karaoke to learn more about it.

00:51:11: The relationship has gone public. Now Mean Makeup Girl is all nice to Kate and even asks her to come to her house, because people still do that after high school. Kate disses her, obvs.

00:52:32: Kate: "We're supposed to be studying." William: "I am studying... I'm studying you." This is some Lord Byron shit. All it needs is a working fireplace.

Oh, wait...

00:55:03: Awww, Kate has Sadface again because she thinks things will change between her and William after graduation. William tells her not to worry. Kate is all like "Yeah, right..."

00:56:17: Prince William is so nice that he hugs visibly well-fed African children. His blond locks can stop hunger.

00:59:02: Kate and her mom have a very private talk about her future with the prince. All of this is happening with the paparazzi just a few feet away. It's like the tension in this movie never STOPS.

00:59:45: The press won't leave Kate alone and they compare her to Diana. They even take pictures of her crotch, Britney-style.

00:59:58: Now they're harassing Kate outside her house. That big-ass zoom lens is trying to get a close-up of her commoner pores.

01:01:11: Mummy Middleton offers to make some tea to relax everyone. That's what the Brits do.

01:01:28: Sadface, this time with a frown. This actress has some RANGE, yo.

01:02:26: Williams asks Prince Charles Consuela to assign Kate a few bodyguards, but Consuela says no because she's not a part of the royal family. There's only one thing left for William to do: teach Kate some protocol.

01:03:40: ...But because Kate is just like one of us, it's not easy for her and she has to lean on the couch for some support. It's like watching The Princess Diaries all over again.

01:04:08: Protocol lady teaches Kate how to get out of a car without showing her knickers (knickers is English for panties. They don't mention it in the movie, but knickers sounds better than undergarments). This is stuff that all of us girls should know.

01:04:46: Sadface AGAIN. Kate is very emotional. Probably because she has lots of feelings.

01:06:07: Goofy Friend tells William that they should go out with Jessica Simpson Look-Alike because he's not gonna be young forever and he should have as much fun as possible before he has to take on more royal duties. William listens to him.

01:07:35: Kate has Sadface 24-7 because William pays no attention to her and would rather go out with his friends and more popstar look-alikes. If I were Kate I'd get a rifle and shoot his ass.

01:08:15: Mr. Sheffield!!

01:08:50: A double decker red bus. Because this is London.

01:08:56: That redhead looks awfully familiar...

OMG, stalker!

01:10:10: Kate's girl friends ask her if she's marrying William, but she says that not yet because he's doing his military training and he's NOT ignoring her.

01:11:45: Kate and William argue in the car because he wants to join the RAF to be a pilot and he didn't consult it with her. She tells him that he's totally ignoring her and William says that he needs some space and Kate says, "You want space? OK, I'll give you space" and she gets out of the car and ohmygod the suspense is killing me.

01:13:19: They break up. Kate is not happy and she brings out Sadface In The Tub With Red Wine and Tabloids on the Tiles.

01:13:43: Kate is in bed reading even more tabloids that portray her as pathetic and suicidal because she was dumped and Mummy Middleton tells her to slut it up for a while so William can see what he's missing, or something like that.

01:14:59: Obligatory Kate The Party Animal Montage. There was no use of blue screen here either.

01:15:28: William hangs out with his friends at the palace but there's a sad piano on the background and now it is William who's sporting Sadface. He misses Kate. William reads the tabloids and realizes that Kate is having the time of her life and he wants to call her but he puts the phone away. Crap, you just can never tell how this things are gonna end.

01:18:01: William calls Kate! In the rain! Because we all know you get better reception that way! Kate says she can't really talk now and William has Sadface again. Gosh, the rain makes everything more tragic.

01:19:42: William talks to his daddy about Princess Di's accident and asks him why he didn't protect her from the press. Charles tells him that that's part of royal life and that he grew up in a different time and that he didn't marry Camilla because his mommy the Queen (not the band) didn't approve of her and Camilla couldn't wait for him forever so she married someone else and he married Diana, in case you didn't know. When Charles says "wait" something clicks in William's mind... Wait... Waitie Katie... KATE CAN WAIT NO MORE. He's not gonna make the same mistakes as his dad and now there's optimistic music playing and I just hope he does the right thing.

01:22:35: Kate is rowing with her friends, just like the guys from The Social Network, and William yells at her from the dock because he needs to talk to her. She asks him to wait because she's really busy. Girl is standing her ground. Good for you, Kate!

William is so desperate and romantic that he starts taking his clothes off so he can jump in the water and talk to her. A prince getting wet for a commoner!! It's usually the other way around, if you know what I mean...

...but in yet another extraordinarily unexpected twist that makes as much sense as 2+2=4, it is KATE who jumps in the water to go to him. Because that's what women on the rebound do.

William: "I love you, Kate Middleton." SWOON.

01:24:51: (8) I bless the rains down in Aaaaafricaaaa (8)

01:25:29: In yet ANOTHER unexpected twist, William proposes to Kate in Africa.

01:26:05: She says yes! But this scene is missing something...

I know..... ROBOTS!

Told ya’ it was the best movie ever.

Of Building Codes & Unequality

2010-03-02T11:05:00.007-03:00

The madness seems to be under control. Yesterday a department store was set on fire in Concepción by looters, but it seems the 14-hour curfew (from 8:00 PM to noon) worked its charm. Concepción looked like a war zone yesterday. It was the most difficult day since the earthquake on every level.

"When the soldiers showed up the entire neighborhood walked out to greet them with applause. We were desperate." My cousin's friend, who lives in Concepción.

I still think the government took too long to send in military forces to the disaster zones. Chileans have a bit of a trauma when it comes to the military. Ever since the 1973 coup, seeing armed soldiers on the street provides more fear than calm. The current government is socialist, and opposed the dictatorship and the coup, so part of me understands why they're scared of reaching out to the army. But given the circumstances those past differences should've been forgotten.

On Saturday afternoon, hours after the earthquake, government officials announced that the situation was under control and that we didn't need international help. "But thanks anyway." There are better ways of reasuring people, I think. Arrogance isn't one of them, especially when you take back what you said a couple of days later. Yes, everyone's allowed to make mistakes, but for a government official to make asumptions just hours after a natural disaster is reckless. It's been four days since the earthquake, and every day we discover new devastated areas.

And here's what I'm trying to get at: the devastated areas are poor. Santiago is wealthier, and the buildings are still standing (99.9% of them, others have cracks) because of strict building codes. But down south not every construction follows those codes. Most people built their houses themselves, or lived in old houses that didn't follow building codes. We're discovering towns that were completely swept by tsunamis. There's mud everywhere, no running water, no food. These aren't big cities with concrete buildings supported by steel skeletons. These are shore towns. Places tourists like to visit, camping sites. Vulnerable towns. Even Concepción, Chile's second biggest city, was in chaos yesterday. The destruction is astounding; the need for food and water is paramount.

Building in Santiago, practically unscathed.

Chile is one of the most stable economies in Latin America, but the unequality is also significant. It really surprised me how the authorities seemed to overlook this when they first assessed the situation. I really don't have the energy to criticize the government now. Time for criticism will come later. Now it's time to help.

As I write this, people are trapped in a collapsed building in Concepción, and the aftershocks have trapped the rescue team trying to find survivors. Talcahuano, a port town right next to Concepción, has containers everywhere. They were swept in by the waves. There's mud, oil, and rubble everywhere. "Everything stains", a local woman said. There's no running water, no power, no food.

We DO need help, as much as we can get. You can go here and make your donation to the institution of your liking.

Things are much better in Santiago. I used the subway and the elevator yesterday. Still feeling aftershocks, but not as many. You know when you get off a boat and your entire body still feels as if you were floating? It's a similar feeling. It's like being earthsick. Four days later and it seems the ground hasn't stopped moving, it's unbelievable. The pain, empathy, and frustration grow each day. But so does the relief of knowing everyone I love is safe.

I'm going to volunteer as soon as it's possible. First we have to rescue survivors, clean up, and get organized. We'll rise once again, one brick at a time.

The Aftershocks

2010-02-28T08:58:00.002-03:00

Twenty-four hours later and we've had countless aftershocks, 90 of them over 5.0, some of them 6.1, even.

On Saturday afternoon, I rode my bike to work. For some reason I grabbed my Chilean flag and wore it over my backpack. I needed to feel like a part of all this. I needed to feel that I loved my country in good times and in bad. Reading this makes it seem so fucking dumb, but it was comforting. I didn't even notice if people saw the flag while I rode down the street. It wasn't about giving a show, it's just something I needed to do.

I got to the office, finally. It had power and Internet, which was a relief. I charged my phone and sat down with my laptop. I surfed the web anxiously, and I slowly got drenched with what was happening. An earthquake, a real earthquake. I read an article on fox news that compared our earthquake with Haiti's. The headline: "Chile Was Prepared for Earthquake, Haiti Wasn't." Yes, we're a seismic country. We have quite possibly the world's worst location, leaving us vulnerable to earth movements and tsunamis. We know this, and we have prepared accordingly throughout the years. But it's still an earthquake. Yes, Haiti was ill-prepared for an earthquake, and Haiti's economy isn't as stable as Chile's, and it will take them much longer to bounce back from such a disaster. We haven't lost as many lives as Haiti, but a life is still a life. I know news departments have to draw such comparisons so people who are far away can get an idea of what's going on, but when you are right here in the disaster zone and you read those reports you feel a tad insulted. You feel like they're being cold, but the thing is, they have to be. They have to remain neutral. I'm perfectly aware of this, but right now I can't deal with it. I'm trying to avoid international news channels because of this.

Last night at work my friend Claudio and I spent hours making each other laugh. And we laughed maniacally. One minute we were talking about how terrible we felt, and how frustrating it was to not being able to do something to stop all the madness, and the next we were holding our stomachs from laughing so hard. We wanted to cry, but we ended up laughing, and it was cathartic. We needed to laugh to make it through the night. We needed to feel something else than pain.

I got to work at 6:00 PM and didn't leave until 7:00 AM of the next morning. I worked through the night so I could spend Sunday with my family. The news were on the whole time. Every time I was left alone I felt my eyes tearing up, then someone would walk in or I'd go see someone and we'd laugh as if nothing had happened.

I got home and as soon as I stepped into my apartment another aftershock hit. I'd been feeling them through the night, but this one was harder. When I woke up on Sunday afternoon I turned on the news and learned that everything was much worse than the previous day. Curfew in Concepción. Entire cities destroyed; boats in the middle of the street, the aftermath of gigantic waves drowning Talcahuano, a port city. Over 700 lives lost. Thousands of people missing. No water, no power. Panic taking over, people rushing into supermarkets and taking absolutely everything they found, from food to flatscreen TVs. What the fuck? Where the fuck is the army? Why didn't the government call the army? On the front page of the paper it read loud and clear, "ARMY WAITS FOR INSTRUCTIONS". In the earthquake of 1985 the army took over immediately. Yes, it was during the dictatorship, so naturally they were in charge the whole time. But what the present government didn't realize is that the army is better equipped to deal with natural disasters. Chile is not a war-loving country; the military isn't for fighting. They are trained to deal with this. With earthquakes. With extreme situations. They could've rescued so many people, but they will only be active starting Monday at 9:00 AM. They could've done so much in two days. They could've controlled the riots and the escape of prison inmates. They could've looked for survivors. Saturday and Sunday were completely lost to the army, and I'm so fucking pissed about it.

Santiago is pretty much intact in comparison to the rest of the country. The subway is functioning normally, for crying out loud. We faired out much better. "Only" 30 casualties. The power is back, at least on my street. Everything seems back to normal. The aftershocks keep coming. The ground never stops moving, it seems. I'm not even scared of the earth movements. At one point during the earthquake I couldn't stand on my own feet and I had to hold on to the doorframe. I was convinced that the building would collapse, and I didn't panic at all. That's not what I fear, that's not the problem right now, and I'm not traumatized because of it. It wasn't the sirens, either, or the sound of glass breaking, or rumbling, or the building shaking so hard it seemed it was about to snap in two, or the fact that it lasted for about two minutes. That's so not it. I'm devastated because of everything else. How many people are trapped as I write this? How many people are starving, or cold, or hungry, or looking for their loved ones? How many people were taken by the waves? How many people lost everything? Jesus Christ, everyone is in pain, and the air feels heavier because of it.

I can't even write without checking every word twice, just to make sure I'm making sense. My head is all over the place, and I desperately need to see my friends and hold them. I feel like a time bomb. If they don't tell us how we can help soon, I'll explode.

The Earthquake

2010-02-27T19:08:00.005-03:00

At 3:34 AM on February 27 the Earth started shaking. This is nothing new in Chile, and I’ve learned to coexist with earth movements. But this time it was different. It was longer than the usual 30 seconds, and it kept getting stronger and stronger. I turned on the lights and saw my things moving. The light went off, then on, then off again, this time for good. I only got out of bed once I heard stuff falling around me. I live in the tenth floor, so I knew going outside to the street wasn’t an option. Standing under a doorframe seemed pretty useless but I did it anyway. I could feel the building swaying, and at one point I thought, with striking calm, “the building is going to collapse”. There were glasses breaking everywhere, books cascading to the floor, picture frames falling one after the other, and countless loud thumps.

My father wasn’t home. Hilda, our maid, came to my room absolutely petrified. She’s afraid of earthquakes. I calmed her down as best as I could and told her to get dressed. I knew that if we stayed in the apartment, surrounded by the mess the earthquake left, she was going to get more nervous and more difficult to handle. I quickly got dressed and went to my dad’s room because I knew he kept a flashlight in his dresser. Once I had it in my hands I picked up his TV and put it back on the table. I went into my father’s den and stood speechless for a few seconds. It was the worst room in the apartment. Two of his three bookshelves were down. Hundreds of books and DVDs were all over the carpet. His pictures with his friends and the Pope were broken. I knew it was hopeless to take care of that at that very moment, so I went back to my room. I grabbed my backpack with my computer, my purse with my wallet inside, and my cell phone and Hilda and I took the stairs.

As soon as we got to the lobby we ran into the doorman. The look on his face paralyzed me for a second. “Is there anyone in the elevators?” I asked. Nobody was, and I was relieved. I stepped outside into the cold night, the sound of emergency generators filling my ears. I tried to call my mom, remembering she’s also terrified of earthquakes, but there was no connection. I used the building phone to call her home but nobody answered. There was absolutely no way of communicating with other people. No phones, no cell phones, no electricity, and no Internet.

I waited for Hilda to finish her cigarette and we went back upstairs. I told her to go to bed and try to sleep; that she could call her family the next day when the lines weren’t collapsed. I had to go to work in the morning, so I went to bed, too. I slept like a baby.

The next morning I started calling everyone. Family, friends, my friends’ family members. They were all fine, thank goodness. One of my friends was in a club, dancing, when the earthquake started. Another one was in the street. Another one was in a gas station in the middle of nowhere, trying to get some sleep. A friend of mine who lives next door to the Bellas Artes museum, a beautiful building, told me that part of the building collapsed. I have two friends who live in Concepcion, near the epicenter of the earthquake, and I still can’t reach them. The air is smoky because of the fires and the dirt that the quake lifted off the mountains. There have been aftershocks all day. One was while I was in the shower. Another one while I sat in my terrace. Another one when I was having something to eat. Another one while I was peeing. Another one while I was going down the stairs to get my bike and go to work. It’ll be like this for a week or so.

Almost exactly 25 years ago, on March 3^rd of 1985, a 7.4 earthquake shook Chile. I was in my mother’s womb, about to be born. I’m almost 25 years old now, and I have experienced an 8.5 earthquake in the tenth floor of a building. It hasn't exactly sunk in yet. Sometimes when there's no one around I feel like crying. It's so overwhelming. I rode my bike to work (I'm at the office right now, that's why I have power and Internet) and saw glass everywhere. This is so odd.

I want to thank all of you for your concern and good wishes. I couldn't get to a computer soon enough to let you all know I'm perfectly well. Shaken, but well.

Making My Way Back Home

2009-10-26T15:05:00.006-03:00

For the first time since January '08 I was on a set. Actually, I have been on sets. TV sets, to be more specific, but if I've been there it's because my best friend is dancing and I go to see her. Sometimes I even take pictures of her, like this one.

On Saturday I was on a different kind of set. A film set for an ad. The difference between a TV set and a film set can be found in the crew, the equipment, and the overall coolness of a film camera.

I worked as an assitant director and -- you know what? I don't wanna go into lame details. I just wanna say that for the first time in a long time I was where I belonged. Between cables and lights and filters and cans of film and shooting plans and monitors and sharing with an amazing crew. I felt like I mattered, like I belonged there. I took pictures of everything like it was my first Christmas or something. Everything was so familiar and yet had a new feeling to it. I'm just so damn excited.

I MIss Her

2009-10-03T03:41:00.005-03:00

Isn't it funny how sometimes you miss someone or something you've never had or you've never met?

I miss AlabamaPink. If I tried to explain this to an outsider they'd never get it, but I know my Pajiba pals would get what I mean. I miss her humor. I miss her strength.

You can find all sorts of shit in the Internet and it will be online forever. But it's good to know that some of those ever-lasting "things" will make you a better person. Amanda's blog is still out there for anyone who wants to drop by. I know her spirit lives in her son; an adorable little boy I haven't had the pleasure of meeting personally. But it's good to know that part of her is still out there. It's the only part of her I got to meet.

I'm the happiest I've been in a while. Things are good in my life and I feel strong. And whenever I think of will and my love of life I inevitably remember Amanda. AlabamaPink.

What a legacy you have left us, dear Amanda.

You're so cool, you're so cool, you're so very cool.

Standing the test of time

2009-09-29T00:21:00.002-03:00

It's been a couple of years since I found this, but it still cracks me up.

I will NEVER stop laughing at this clip

2009-08-28T19:08:00.002-03:00

Plus: he sounds just like Yoda!

"A Mermaid"

2009-08-07T17:34:00.000-03:00

A Fun (Maybe A Little Embarrassing) Survey

2009-08-03T15:32:00.005-03:00

So, I'm finally writing scripts in Spanish. It doesn't come easy for me, but I'm slowly getting the hang of it. The main hindrance of writing in Spanish is my failure to accept our very butchered language. It's hard to follow and even more difficult to translate. Think Juno lingo in Spanish, with the word 'pussy' and all of its variants thrown in every three or four words. The thing is I talk like this in my every day life, which makes me a dialogue snob in denial, which is way worse than being simply a dialogue snob. Dialogue snobs try to speak better than others. Dialogue snobs in denial criticize the very slang the use with ease.

Anyway. Right now I'm writing a story that takes place in one night, and since the first rule of writing is 'write what you know' I'm using all kinds of real life stories that have happened to me or to my friends. They include barfing (duh), rescuing drunk peeps from odd places (double duh), showing up to extremely chic parties that turned out to be Peruvian salsa extravaganzas, sex on sticky and very public floors, 10-hour drinking marathons in family living rooms, out-of-control crying, marijuana-induced confessions, embarrassing making-out episodes in clubs, and grand life revelations at dawn.

I was wondering if you had any wild party stories you'd like to share with me. Just so I don't feel like I'm the only member of the Wasted Generation. Don't spare any details. We're all lost causes here.

Spill, people. Spill.

Habemus Morning-After Pill

2009-07-17T01:05:00.005-03:00

It is the year 2009, and the Chilean government has approved the morning-after pill. In a country where abortions are ilegal, this is a huge step.

Whether we are willing to admit it or not, the Church still has a lot of power in our country even though our current president (and also the one that came before her) aren't Catholic, and don't even believe in God for that matter.

There are many people against the pill who say that women will use it as birth control, meaning women will have unprotected sex with no worries at all because they'll know they have access to a pill that will get them out of trouble for sure. This is bloody fucking stupid for many reasons, starting with money (the pill isn't as cheap as buying tic-tacs, for one), and it's not like we'll want to experience the side-effects of taking the pill every morning after we get laid.

I don't know which side is right. I come from a very conservative family but I have a liberal mind, but the important thing to consider here is the ability to have a choice. If I'm ever scared after having sex with someone I want to be able to consider my options, and to do that it is imperative to HAVE options. In the end, though, it's all about respect. So if you're against the morning-after pill, that's alright. You don't have to buy it or even be glad that it's finally legal. Just don't spoil the moment for those who have a different take on things, and don't worry, 'cause we won't use it as an alternative to birth control. Jeez...

I wish I'd Written This Movie

2009-07-15T11:49:00.001-03:00

My Mother's Red Hat w/Alicia Silverstone & Alanis Morissette from Alicia Silverstone

I have succumbed.

2009-06-30T20:37:00.000-03:00

I'm on twitter.

http://twitter.com/ChofiLove

Stalk me, I say!

Are the milk commercials real????

2009-06-07T03:33:00.001-03:00

Please, Unitedstatians. Enlighten me.

Double Feature

2009-05-11T18:42:00.006-03:00

You know that scene in "Almost Famous" when William goes to the hotel and there's a couple playing guitar and singing in one of the rooms, completely oblivious to all the chaos going on mere feet away from them?

Well, I've always loved that song and I finally found it. Here's my less than perfect rendition of it (I really need to work on my strumming skills):

Oh, and the not-so-artsy gag reel.

BEST THING IN THE HISTORY OF EVER

2009-04-23T14:56:00.002-03:00

This clip is a perfect example of how big a dork I am. Besides its obvious genius (turning Silence of the Lambs into a musical, and then turning said musical into a Lego extravaganza), there's a moment where I completely lose it. It happens in the 1:32 mark, when Lego Bill does a solo. It cracks me up. It's shameful how much it makes me laugh. It goes from silly giggles to roars that leave me in tears. I keep going back to that part and I start laughing all over again.

Yes, I'm a dork.

More Crazy Office Fun, Kids!

2009-04-15T02:03:00.003-03:00

So, this is my first video post. It's lame, but I had nothing better to do.

What, you didn't think I do any actual work at the office, did you?

Oh, auntie...

2009-04-08T14:47:00.004-03:00

Quick note: in Chile, we don't call our friends' parents' Mr. or Mrs. this-or-that. We call them aunt or uncle. My father is the exception to this rule, demanding my guy friends and boyfriends to refer to him as "Don (instert my dad's first name.)" It would be totally Godfatherish if my dad was intimidating, which he's not.

I'm used to being adored by my friends' parents'. Some friends even invite me over to their houses more often than their other friends because they want their parents to have a better opinion of them. I say this very humbly: parents LOVE me. I'm convinced it all comes down to table manners. I give all the credit to my mom, who was always very strict about them (I usually neglect manners at home just to piss her off, but they blossom as soon as I enter somebody else's house) and etiquette as well. I always eat with both hands on the table, sit up straight, and won't start eating until everyone has their food on their plates. So it's all about manners and the ability to make small talk sound remarkably interesting.

Getting along with your best friend's mom is very much like getting along with your in-laws. You're with their child all the time and they tell you everything they don't tell their parents. You have to earnt their trust and let them know that their precious child is in good company. I feel I always had a little trouble reaching my best friend's mom. She's very quiet and I always thought her to be a little harsh. There was also the fear that she secretly wanted me to shut the fuck up for once and for all.

When my best friend left she asked me to check on her mom regularly, a task that seemed challenging at first because I didn't know what to talk about with her. The first couple of weeks I called her we had brief and very polite conversations. I talked to another friend who was also checking on her, asking her what else I could talk about with Aunt. She said, "I don't really know what to say to her either, so we just text from time to time." Brilliant. That was just what I needed to hear, the perfect solution to my problem.

I resorted to texting. That worked pretty well for a while, but then I thought about how impersonal texting can be. This was my best friend's mom, and she deserved better. If her daughter ever asked her if I'd kept in touch, I didn't want her telling my best friend that we'd texted a lot. I wanted to be a better friend than that. It was back to calling...

After a few phone conversations over a few weeks, I took a leap of faith and asked her to join me for a cup of coffee. She said yes, and when we met and walked to the coffee shop my mind kept telling me this was going to be awkward as hell. What was I gonna talk to her about? Shit. This wasn't good. We ordered coffee and when we sat down I asked the smartest thing I've ever asked in my adult life: "So, aunt, how was your summer?" The most extraordinary thing happened. She talked and talked and went on and on, leaving no room for me to make stupid small talk. I found myself laughing my ass off at some of her stories. And we barely talked about her daughter, my best friend. It was reassuring to know we had other topics of conversation besides her. It was all about her summer and how much fun she had with her friends and her job. I realized that she wasn't harsh. She's just dry, which means she also has dry humor. I love dry humor. How could I have missed this about her? We had a lovely time together, and I felt like I had finally earned her trust.

She called me a couple of days ago and she made me laugh a lot. She didn't think that what she was telling me was particularly funny and she was a little upset about it, which only made me enjoy it more. Her birthday is coming up, and I called her to save me a day of that week because I'm taking her out to dinner. She said "awww, darling" and suggested that we also had to celebrate my belated birthday. A dual celebration it shall be. I'm looking forward to this, and I'm abnormally happy about all the progress we've made during my friend's absence.

I just hope she'll never hear the words "I don't like that friend of yours" coming from her mom.

Amazi/on'

2009-04-04T16:14:00.003-03:00

I adore Amazon.com because it brought back my reading habits. I used to be a big reader as a kid, and in high school I'd read four to six books a week for one of my classes. I'm a fast reader, too. This guy tested my reading habilities once and said I have 100% reading comprehension. That's how I roll.

Anyway, somewhere along the way I stopped reading books and became an avid online article collector. I'd print interesting stories at the office and read them in the subway on my way home. One day, bored out of my mind, I ventured into amazon.com and started browsing books. Nothing too intellectual. Chelsea Handler. I added both her books to my shopping cart just to fool around, but then I found Nick Thornby and Rob Sheffield. I ended up with Songbook and Love is a Mix Tape in my cart as well. I've been the oblivious owner of a credit card for a year now, and I've never used it. I figured now was a good time to start. I ordered the books and forgot all about them a week later.

Last week I came home to find a box on my bed. I opened it and found my order. I immediately picked up Chelsea Handler's My Horizontal Life: A Collection of One-Night Stands and finished it the next day. Before I started with the next book I wanted to finish The War of Art (a birthday gift from a friend), and after I did I picked up Are you there, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. I was done with it in two days. Then it was time for Love is a Mix Tape by Rob Sheffield. It just hit me that as of last week I've read four books. I'm still reading Love is a Mix Tape, and I don't wanna finish it because it's too damn good and oh-so very sad. I think I'll start Songbook on Monday.

Three minutes ago I ordered six more books. I realized that shipping costs amounted to the same money my four books were on my first order, so I decided to make the shipping costs worth it and squeeze them for all they had. This time around I ordered books I've always wanted to read. The titles are The Book of Other People, Fight Club, High Fidelity, This is Not a Love Song, King Dork and The Rules of Attraction.

What can I say? I'm catching up on my reading.

A Few Words of Wisdom

2009-04-01T12:01:00.003-03:00

Over the past two weeks I've devoured both of Chelsea Handler's books, My Horizontal Life: a Collection of One-Night Stands and Are You There, Vodka? It's Me, Chelsea. Now, I got the books expecting to have a laugh, but never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined drawing life lessons from Miss Handler's tales.

The following excerpt can be found in Are You There, Vodka? It's me, Chelsea, in the chapter entitled Re-Gift, page 180, and I can only wish I'd gotten my hands on this baby back when people invented stupid e-mail chains about bad luck and love and angels and true friendship. Because everyone knows that if you don't forward one of those e-mails you'll end up alone eating your own toe nails.

"I understand if people want to e-mail me pictures of their babies by themselves, but there is no way I'm going to join Kodak's photo gallery to look at a picture of someone's pet standing by itself in front of Niagara Falls. This is not the first time this has happened to me, and I was actually pleased because I had gathered the materials necessary to respond appropriately. I clicked reply and sent Morgan a picture of my cleaning lady. Standing next to the toilet, alone. I attached a message that read, "Not interested? Me neither."

I was in the subway when I read this, and I exploded into fits of laughter. It was rush hour and I knew people were giving me weird looks, but I just couldn't help myself. I laughed and laughed and laughed until I started to sweat and I had to literally wipe my forehead and have some water because my idiotic giggles got out of hand. And let me tell you something: when I find something very funny my laugh is not subtle. It's loud and high-pitched and there's always some snorting to be expected. My body shakes and I bend over and back and I get all red, and for a while there are no real sounds coming out of my mouth because I'm trying to catch my breath but I still look like I'm laughing really loud.

I tried to move on to the next page, but my head kept going back to the above paragraph and I kept on laughing. I showed the excerpt to my dad and he laughed as well. I translated it to one of my friends and she immediately changed her Google Chat status to "Chelsea rules!!!" I can only hope this will start a series of dumb e-mails with my friends which will consist on sending stupid pictures to each other and write "Not interested? Me neither" on the body.

Musings on life, Death, and Everything in Between, Part II

2009-03-26T13:50:00.006-03:00

You know something? I could write at least five paragraphs about how miserable I've been the last couple of months, but I don't want to. Instead of talking about my issues and problems and fears, I wanna talk about what I decided to do about this crisis. Yes, life is tough, but I still believe from the bottom of my heart that happiness is always the better choice.

And I choose happiness.

I'm not exactly there yet, but that's where I'm headed. I once heard the phrase "what happiness doesn't have in length it compensates in height", or something similar, and it touched me. I wanna be happy, and to do that I must take charge and let go of my stupid pride. So that's where I'm headed to. I have to be strong, and I know I can do it. I think all of us Pajibans can testify that the strength of the human spirit can move mountains, as evidenced by 'Bama's struggle. And I'd like to thank her for the lesson she taught me, the lesson she taught us all: be strong, and if you're going to whine, don't. Have a sense of humor about yourself and keep going. Life is too short to be a drama queen. 'Tis better to be a Queen of Hearts.

Musings on life, Death, and Everything in Between

2009-03-26T13:33:00.002-03:00

More coming later.

HOLY GLITTERY VAMPIRES!

2009-03-12T17:27:00.004-02:00

I'm so, so, SO, SO sorry, but...

HOLY SHIT!!!This kid is mad hot.

I think I'm one of them now.

Bono Jokes

2009-03-09T20:46:00.001-02:00

Q: What’s the difference between Bono and God?

A: God doesnt walk down the street thinking he’s Bono

One more:

Q: How many members of U2 does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

A: Just one. Bono holds it and the world revolves around him.

From the best website ever.

Reset

2009-03-06T22:59:00.004-02:00

As my thousands of fans have noticed, I have been a bit absent from lovely Pajiba and this very blog. But do not cry for me, loyal fans, because I'm still here. A bit skinnier, but still here. More and more (pleasantly) annoying because I'm quitting smoking, but still here. More pensive, but still here.

You know when you see yourself through somebody else's eyes? And it really sucks? And you really wanna do something about it?

In geeky words, I'm reboting myself. I'm trying to make some changes. I don't know... I looked back on last year and realized that at some point I lost my compass and ended up becoming someone I don't particularly like, and I don't wanna think that someone is a natural progression of my personality. I wanna be better than who I am right now. I know I have it in me, deep down, somewhere I'm probably too scared to have a look or something.

Writing again has helped. Let me stop lying: re-reading old scripts has helped. It's helped me realized how much work needs to be done, and how I often end up going in circles, probably because I'm too damn scared to write that final scene. I hate final scenes. If it were up to me my scripts would be three hundred pages long. But I'm trying to be more mature about it and realize that all things, good or bad, must come to an end.

I wanna go back to the happier Sofi I used to be right before I "rented" myself to the system. I don't feel conflicted about my job at all; that old question of 'should I do what I love for a living or should I swallow my pride and do something else to reach a greater end?' isn't really a question for me. I just did what needed to be done, end of story. The thing is, I can't pretend it didn't affect me. I've become more... bitter, I guess. Pajiba's comment section was the perfect outlet for me to take all my anger and frustration and turn it into vagina jokes and stuff. Now I'm trying to regain my cool.

My guitar is a great companion, and I'll rock the Godtopus out of it every chance I get. But I also wanna be a better friend, and actually be there when I'm with my friends, which I think I did this summer. I'm slightly autistic, or so they say. I live in my own world, a world for Sofía, and I'm not good at letting people in it. Or if I do it, I let them in in a totally inappropriate way, or I get ahead of myself and start things backwards.

I wanna take my time. I wanna get to know people better, I wanna really listen to them and learn about what moves them and enjoy their stories. I love family and childhood stories, and people give me weird looks when I ask about them. Now I gotta figure out a way to make them feel more comfortable. I don't wanna be afraid to ask, "Seriously, what went wrong?" to an ex flame, or question people, not because I wanna judge them, but because I wanna understand them. I'm so sick of playing the victim in my family. I'm less and less afraid to talk to my mom about my stuff. I wanna make the most of the time I'll have with my best friend, and introduce her to some of the friends I've reconnected with during her absence. I want her to push me more bluntly and not as subtly as she's done it so far. I want us to be sisters again.

I guess I have a lot of work to do, and so many changes are ahead of me. Now it's just filling Visa forms, but soon it'll be hearing the question, "so, what are you all about?" and knowing what I'm gonna answer. Not just in Boston. Everywhere.

So I guess I'll meet you there. Reloaded.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and That F*cking Nun

2009-02-26T15:16:00.001-02:00

I distinctly remember the day I gave my admittance exam to one of the most (if not the most) prestigious all-girls private Catholic schools in the country. My sisters attended the very same school, so it was only natural for me to follow their paths. I'd also attended kindergarden next door to said school, and my friends and I would stand on top of the slide to get a look of the school girls standing in line before class. I knew I was going to be on the other side of the wall some day.

I was four or five years old when I gave the exam. I remember the room and the test in my hands, and a teacher was giving instructions. She'd later become my very first teacher, and in a few more years she'd be the new inspector for everyone between kinder and the eighth grade. I was accepted, and on my first day I realized everything was in English.

I should probably mention that my school was founded by American nuns. They were from Philadelphia, and they all spoke Spanish, and none of them could roll their r's. Some were insanely nice, like Sister Christine. She loved baseball and sports, which was kinda sad because Chile is a soccer country. Sister Eileen stunned me with her kindness. She was already old when I had my first class with her, and she looked very intimidating. Cranky, that's the word. She looked cranky. Until you looked into her light blue eyes, and you realized she was a sweetheart. Curiously enough, there was a bitch of a teacher who kissed her ass constantly, and she was seriously mean. But they were friends, the kind nun and the crazy teacher. Maybe Sister Eileen was more forgiving, and she tried to see the bright side of things.

Sister Jane was scary as hell. She was of Irish or Scottish decent, I can't remember, but I could see her read hair through her habit. She once caught me throwing wet toilet paper to the ceiling. She appeared behind me, hands on her back, and said, "You'll have to bring a ladder tomorrow to clean that up." I can still remember how scared I was. I though they were going to kick me out of school. I ranted to my friends about how I was going to ask my parents to transfer me to another school, because I just couldn't deal with the crazy nuns anymore.

Wet toilet paper later turned me into a hero of sorts. We were all standing in line before class, and a few teachers spoke to us about how the bathroom's ceiling was completely clogged with wet toilet paper. They asked the guilty students to step forward. There was a long silence. I moved my foot, but hesitated. I did it again. Finally, I stepped forward, hands on my back, and stood next to a teacher. She put her hand on my shoulder and said, "This is a brave girl." More people stepped forward, and we were taken to the principal's office. The principal was Sister Jane with the red hair and the ladder threats.

Discipline was tough. During Kinder and First Grade you had to freeze when the bell rang the first time. If you were running, you had to hold the position you were in until the nun rang the bell again. Sometimes she'd walk around, making sure we were all human statues. Once she was satisfied, she'd ring the bell again and we'd all have to walk to our place in line, hands behind our backs, lips tightly pursed. You were only allowed to wear red, white or blue headbands, and your pencil case had to be the one the school gave you. Your backpack had to be blue. If you chose to wear a scarf during winter, it had to be red, white or blue. Everything was red, white or blue in that school. You weren't allowed to speak Spanish during class, except for Religion and, well, Spanish class. Everything else was in English. Art, Music, Social Studies, Science class. I learned the Star Spangled Banner before learning Chile's National Anthem. But we celebrated both countries holidays, so we didn't have much classes during the year. We had lots of presentations and recitals that took lots of rehearsing hours, and there were father-daughter dances for the high school students. We had actual cheerleaders, and the Pink Panther remains the school mascot to this day.

It was a good school. It was too big for my tastes, but it was good. Some teachers were literally insane and some were very violent. One of them hit one of my sisters, other pulled my hair because I didn't understand something (I was 6), and other locked up a girl in a closet. I think it was the same teacher who hit my sister.

I was in that school until the fourth grade. My little sister and I were transfered to another all-girls private Catholic school, but it was very different. It was founded by Chilean teachers, and there was only one class per grade, unlike my other school, where there were three and sometimes four classes per grade.

My first year there was a revelation. We could use any pencil case we wanted, our back packs could be green or bright yellow, and English was seriously amateur. Fifth grade English in my new school could be compared to Kinder English in my other school.

But most important of all, we were small. Two hundred students in total. Nothing compared to the thousands of students in my other school.

I finally felt like an individual.

The Odd Exchange

2009-02-23T10:16:00.007-02:00

My oldest sister - aslo my godmother - is of the paranoid kind, so if I happen to say I miss my best friend, she naturally assumes she and I are secret lovers and I'm a closeted lesbian. She has a funny way of approaching things. She tries to be subtle, but we all know her too well, and as soon as she utters the words, "Uh, can I talk to you?" we all immediately know what she wants to get at, regardless of the situation or matter at hand. So when we sat by the pool last week and she said, "Can I talk to you about your friend?" my first response was, "We're best friends. And that's all there is to it."

My sister was still intrigued at how strongly I felt about my best friend. In the end, and like all our arguments, my sister realized she and I feel things differently. Obviously. Still, the whole thing made me laugh. But not to her face. It sure was a fun thing to watch, though; my oldest sister trying not to be too suspicious of my sexual orientation. Sometimes she'd try to find evidence to back up her maybe-theory in the oddest places. For instance, we had a conversation that went like this:

Sister: Why did you choose a black Mac? (Subtext: Not only are you gay, but you're the guy in your secret lesbian relationship)
Me: It just came in that color.
Sister: But... why not a white one? (Subtext: Why didn't you get a girlier color?)
Me: It's not a new Mac; I bought it from somebody else.
Sister: So you didn't specifically pick the color? (Subtext: You're not gay?)
Me: No.
Sister: Oh, I see. (Subtext: YAAAAAAY!)

To make sure she'd drop the issue entirely, I added:

Me: I wish they made pink Macs...

And she stopped questioning me. At least until two days later.

Yup, I'm in love.

2009-02-08T15:32:00.003-02:00

Over the past few months I've been seeing someone. At first I wasn't so sure how I felt about them. I'm all for love between different species, but I had never experienced it myself.

Until I had the first sip. It was love at first taste.

I'm talking about Kunstmann's HonigAle. It's beer... with honey. I'm one of those chicks who drinks beer like a sailor, so I really didn't need the marketing dudes to make it more appealing to me. Seriously, is there anything more girly than sweet beer? Living in a chauvinistic country I couldn't help but feel a bit judged every time I downed a pitcher all by myself. Now I have sweet beer on my side. Whenever I order one I hear guys say, "that's such a girly drink." Why, yes it is, and you're green with envy because you feel guilty over ordering one for yourselves. You'll probably ask me for a sip, and then another one, and then another one. That's okay. The more the merrier. Not only am I drinking more beer, but I'm feeling like a girl while doing so.

So, thank you, Kunstmann's people, for my lovely new summer romance. It'll probably live through fall and winter, too. And I'll definitely sneak a pack or two into the U S of A.

Vay-cay

2009-02-07T15:58:00.002-02:00

I'm on vacation. Finally. Last summer I barely rested because I was doing my internship and I only had one week to myself, which was mostly spent running after my adorable nephew Clemente.

Now it's different. I have three weeks to myself. This first week I exercised a lot, but i's weird, because the more I exercise the bigger I feel. I must be allergic to healthy things. For the next couple of weeks I'll go to my mom's house and talk nonesense while we drink vodka tonics together. I'll probably walk the dog and try to get him to join me for a jog. I'd also like to visit my sister in the country side. Her house is seriously awesome. Then, on the 28th, I have my sister's wedding, and my dress is so cool that I just might have to post pictures. After that I'm going back to work, and I'm quitting on April, and then I'll move on to another job.

I'm also acquiring my Visa during my vacation. I'll try not to act too single so they give it to me without any problems. Boston is only a few months away now. I wish I could go right now and take this wonderful sun with me. First I gotta lose a few pounds, 'cause I just know I'm gonna gain a few over there.

So yeah, it's pretty obvious I'm on vacation. Nothing interesting to say, and whatever I say is dumb. What is not uninteresting or dumb is that I miss my best friend. She's been away for over a month, and if she plays her cards right I won't see her until May.

Fuck TV, man....

A Day At The Office, as Told by Cell Phone Pictures

2009-01-27T00:07:00.024-02:00

Walk into the office.

Say "hi" to Susana.

Go to my desk.
Look at pictures of my family on my wall.
Look at my two Gods: Paul Auster and Godtopus.
Stick my fingers together with double contact tape.
Wonder what Judge Judy would do.
Look at my Chaplin posters on the wall to remember why I'm working here.
Sneak up on Paty.
Wake Jimmy and laugh at his startled face.

Go out for a smoke.

Look at the street.
Take pictures of my reflection on the glass, then walk inside.
Stare at the yummy things my boss ordered to celebrate the birthday of the dean's secretary. Focus on the ice-cold champagne.

Drink champagne (3 glasses, in office hours. Yay.)

Admire the yummy sandwiches and cookies.

Look up pictures of skinny self from years ago after consuming sandwiches and cookies.
Admire the sneakers my boss pretends to ignore.
Nap on the desk.

Stare at the ceiling.

Doze off on my chair.
And tomorrow it starts all over again.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh

2009-01-26T16:41:00.002-02:00

I wanna go home.

My vacation starts next week, meaning Friday is my last day of work. I'm fucking sick and tired of coming to the office and do absolutely nothing.

I started doing Pilates (thanks, youtube) on Saturday and everything hurts, but it feels good. I figured I needed to be healthy, considering I've been losing about 2 pounds a week for no reason whatsoever. Bullshit, I know what it's all about. But I'm so tired of talking about it I don't even wanna go into specifics. OK, fine. I miss my best friend. Boo-hoo, poor me.

I wanna go hohohohohohohohohohohoooooome..........

/whiny

Dumb!

2009-01-23T13:22:00.001-02:00

Seriously?

Is it just me, or...?

2009-01-22T13:09:00.003-02:00

Regarding Pajiba's latest comment diversion.

I read the whole thing and stumbled upon many "I slept with my bf/gf's best friend - my best friend's gf/bf" stories. I'm not passing judgment, but I'm curious about this. Whenever one of my friends start dating a guy he immediately becomes a Ken doll to me. He's completely asexual and off limits. If they break up they remain asexual Ken dolls. They're just not an option. I may have wondered what they look like naked, but I do that with every guy that passes by. Besides, whenever I catch myself thinking about them naked I immediately picture them having sex with my friends, and that is just too much for a recovering Catholic like myself to handle. Friends, naked, having sex???? I try not to say "eww" very often, but, gosh darnit, EEEEEHEHEHHEHEHHEEEEWWWWW!

It's not that hard for me to apply the asexual Ken doll rule. I don't really have to think about it; it's more of a reflex. But, hey, you never know for how long you'll stay on your high horse. Hopefully, when it comes to this particular issue, I'll never fall off.

AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2009-01-14T17:01:00.000-02:00

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!

Maddddddddddddddre

2009-01-13T12:28:00.003-02:00

My mom is the absolute best person to watch crappy movies with, especially when those crappy movies are chick flicks. I got a bootleg version of Mamma Mia! (I'd never pay full price for such a piece of delicious crap) knowing I'd enjoy watching it with my mama. See, even writing about her makes me go all Bradshaw and girly. And stuff.

So, I had lunch with her last Sunday and afterwards we chilled on her bed and watched the movie. As the minutes went by I knew exactly when she'd laugh, cry, and make that "tsk-tsk-too-doo" sound moms and dads do when they dance. Turns out I was right every single time. Whenever an "emotional" scene would take place I'd glance at her and notice her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She cries with EVERYTHING. She's that lady that cries with soap operas she doesn't even watch. Oh, and watching When a Man Loves a Woman? Forget about it; she's already crying by the opening credits. I'm not exaggerating.

I love watching Terms of Endearment with her, too. It's not just a movie I enjoy, penned and directed by one of my all-time favorite writer/directors, but whatching it with my mom gives it extra value. I gave her the movie Venus for her birthday, but I didn't watch it with her. She said she'd enjoy it.

My mom is pretty cool. She's a very good and generous mother in law, too. And she's well aware of this. She's constantly saying, "is there anyone more charismatic than me?", half kidding, naturally. The thing is she is pretty charismatic, and people immediately warm up to her because she's very receptive and goes out of her way to make people comfortable, something that has rubbed off on me. My dad is more about being master and commander: whatever he says goes and isn't questioned. My mom is more willing to bend the rules to make somebody happy, regardless of what people may think.

I'm planning on spending a week with her this summer. We'll do fun stuff and talk and drink and eat fine things. She's an excellent listener, so I expect us to have lots of late night conversations. I'm looking forward to it.

Oh, and check this out: this is my mom when she was in her very early twenties. Can you say Classic Hollywood?

PinUpPajibettes

2009-01-09T18:41:00.005-02:00

So, with the end of Tackypallooza comes another project: the Pajiba Calendar. I've been thinking about which movie I'd like to pay homage to (or insult), and I'm not so sure if I'd like to pick one with a character that somewhat resembles me or a movie I really dig.

I loved "Volver" and I think the poster kicks ass. I was also thinking of mocking all those movie posters that look like this:
But then it'd only be pictures of me. Lame. Or self-indulgently funny? Or maybe we should have everyone pick 12 movies we all like and use those as references.

Thoughts?

Tackypallooza: Round 4. Sudden Death

2009-01-08T12:47:00.003-02:00

This will be the last item I'll be posting. I've been saving it up until this moment. I hope it lives up to the hype.

It's been a lovely couple of days. I must thank everyone involved for typing "tacky" on Google and taking the time to classify tackiness. Because it can be classified and ranked and scored, as Miss Nosek will do tomorrow.

Now that that's off my chest, I present to you..........

THE ANATOMICALLY CORRECT CERAMIC LION GLASS TABLEEven if the genitals weren't exposed it'd still be tacky as hell.

Tackypallooza: Round 3

2009-01-08T01:42:00.005-02:00

Tackypallooza is going strong, with new submissions by Marra, Genny, and now Jeremy. Figgy has to post the pictures she found on her blog if she wants to be a part of the contest.

The contest will end this Friday, and we must pressure Stacey Nosek to be the judge. She MUST post the winner on Pajiba Love.

Here's my newest find. I don't know if it's tacky, but it sure is original. I have four words for you:

Kangaroo. Scrotum. Bottle. Opener.

Tackypallooza

2009-01-07T02:14:00.007-02:00

Marra, Genny, and commenter monkeyblade have submitted their tacky items of choice. Under the loving eyes of the tacky gods, I present to you Round II of Tackypallooza.

Tacky Gods Tank and Ashleighann

You think you know tacky? Ha! Whale tail + Tramp stamp = Yo' mamma.

Need help around the kitchen? Worry not, lady! Fisher's here to help you. With his long (but not thick) rod.

And last but not least... Tired of being the only girl in your posse whose camel toe just won't show? We have just the thing for you! It's... Camel Toe Cup*!!! Just put it over your hoo-haa and get ready to turn some heads!

I've got more, but I'm saving them for later.

*Yes, this is a real product. There's mild, medium and cougar. I wonder which one CoCo uses?

Contest!!!!

2009-01-06T10:59:00.004-02:00

Okay, so I got my ass kicked on the country game. I'm no longer the warrior, and it's very likely that nothing will happen if you mess with me.

So, I've come up with a better contest, and I'm sure I will win this time. If I don't win, then at least I'll know we made each other laugh, and that's good. (Yes, I'm not really that competitive, which explains why I'm so happy.)

So the contest consists in finding the TACKIEST thing (dress, table, ornament, etcetera...) around the internetsssss and post it on your blog.

Here's my submission:

Why is this tacky? Well, first of all, it's a unicorn.
Second, it's a unicorn with... cheetah fur.
Third, the cheetahcorn is wearing eye shadow.
Fourth, believe it or not, this is a calendar. Imagine 12 months of chetahcorns! You know there was a siamese cat/unicorn in there somewhere.

Start googling, people. It's on.

Take that!

2009-01-03T16:24:00.004-02:00

90

Do you see, people???? Do you see what happens when you mess with the warrior??????!!!!!

(Unless, of course, you can beat me. Which would suck.)

Cool Catholics

2008-12-24T11:41:00.013-02:00

That's right. There ARE or HAVE BEEN some pretty cool Catholics hanging around. Many say they're not Catholic anymore, but believe me, you NEVER stop being Catholic. It haunts you (which is anti-Catholic.)

Guy Fawkes

Stephen Colbert

Martin Scorsese
Jack Nicholson
Alexander Pope

Susan Sarandon
Mae West

Bill Murray
Moi

Merry Christmas

Writing in the 90's: A Selection of Screenplays - Part I

2008-12-19T01:19:00.038-02:00

I'm into screenwriting. Like, REALLY into it. It's all I do. I got so into writing screenplays that it's become harder for me to write plain prose. I used to be good at prose and essays and blogging; now I have to work at it. But it's not like you care about that, so let's cut to the chase: I'd like to share some scripts that have taught me a thing or two about this wonderful craft. I present to you:

The Best Screenplays written in the 90's for Kids Who Can’t Write Screenplays that Well and/or Don't Know Shit About Screenwriting (But Really Wanna Learn Based on MY Personal Opinion, Which Happens to be the ONLY Opinion That Matters.)

Let's hit it:

THE INDIE GEM: Kids, by Harmony Korine (1995)

I love starting with a bang. So, why this one? Well... Have you read it? This shit is raw, and I know that word is thrown in a lot in film criticism (especially looking like this: "RAW!" ), but I really mean it. This shit is raw. It was written by then 18 year-old Harmony Korine. Larry Clark asked him (yeah, he's a guy, and his name is Harmony, HA!) to write the screenplay because he wanted the story to come from a true spectator of the way kids behaved back then. There's an amateurish feel to it, especially when it comes to character description. The story is shocking to read but refreshing at the same time, because there's not an ounce of self-consciousness in Korine's writing. Now, I've read a lot of screenplays, but there's a very fine line between pretentiousness and personal style. No-style is this screenplay's style, and it's that technical ignorance what makes it unique.

When I say 'technical ignorance' I'm not saying it lacks structure. The film has three acts, and the rest of the paradigm is there, but the descriptions and dialogue come so naturally that for a moment you think you're reading a short story. I wish my first script was as "RAW!!" as this one, but unfortunately, my teens weren't as eventful as Telly's. (Sidenote: doesn't Telly look JUST like Michael Phelps?)

THE ONE FULL OF HUMANITY: Almost Famous, by Cameron Crowe.

Crowe has a style of his own. I'm trying to say that when you read one of his scripts, you immediately know who the author is. He has those great afterthoughts to actions, like this one found in Jerry Maguire right after Dorothy asks him to come in and leaves him outside to settle things with the sitter.

She exits, as shot lingers on Jerry. That odd moment
when you've crossed the line.

Crowe's scripts have BILLIONS of those, and they're incredibly helpful to his actors. It's easy understand where the character is coming from, and it makes it pretty obvious why so many actors praise his writing. He makes their job easier. So, why am I going with Almost Famous instead of Jerry Maguire? Because the former is insanely entertaining and full of nostalgia and you can hear the riffs when you read about the backstage scenes. And on a personal note, I was about the main character's age when this movie came out, and I was into real rock & roll (something my friends NEVER understood) and wrote on just about anything I found, so it has sentimental value. It also has the Tiny Dancer scene. This is what it looked like on paper:

 92    INT. TOUR BUS -- MORNING - 5 AM

"Tiny Dancer" continues on the bus stereo. Russell sits up
front, swathed in a large robe, alone and silent. The
others have given him a wide berth. He feels silly, and
they know it, and he hates that they know it, which makes
him feel foolish. He sits silently. William watches him
from four rows back, next to Penny. She kisses the top of
his forehead, a hero's welcome. He yawns. The song's vocal
begins. There is only more silence. Then, after a beat, we
hear a voice or two, fighting the quiet and singing along.
Then others... waking up... joining in. Then Jeff. Russell
hears them and starts to sing along too, louder now,
without turning around. It's a voice everyone wants to
hear. Like it or not, this is his family.

Whenever I read Crowe's scripts I get the feeling that he was smiling
while hitting the keys. I mean, how can you put that much heart into
something, all that humanity, and keep a straight face? This is a guy
who's not afraid to show you his "uncool" side, and that makes him all
the cooler, because I'm so sick and tired of people saying showing
vulnerability is a bad thing. Crowe makes the vulnerable guy the hero
in all of his movies, and you can't dislike them because they're so
damn likeable. So thank you, Mr. Crowe, for setting the record
straight. The princess of uncoolness salutes you.

THE ONE FOR SUCKERS LIKE US: High Fidelity, adapted from the novel by Nick Hornby, written by D.V. DeVicentis, Steve Pink, John Cusack and Scott Rosenberg (2000)*

Let’s face it, not too many scripts penned by half a dozen people turn into good movies. But this one is different. It's not just because of John Cusack or the kick-ass soundtrack, or the fact that Jack Black gives a GREAT performance. The story feels real. It gives you the impression that the writers sat for hours, drinking and smoking, talking about old flames and how miserable and stupid they left them.

This script had a big challenge: the main character breaks the fourth wall, meaning, he speaks to camera. ALL THE FUCKING TIME. And it's not annoying. You know how hard that is? Voice overs are looked down upon, and talking to camera will make every self-righteous sreenwriting teacher throw you to the lions. Somehow it worked here but it sucked on Alfie. And it's not because it's John Cusack (thought it certainly helped the story to have a regular Joe talking to you), it's because it was handled correctly. They didn't use the method to fill screen time, but to help the progress of the plot.

TOP-NOTCH BANTER: Chasing Amy, by Kevin Smith (1997)

First of all, isn't the tagline great? It's not who you love. It's how. Reading that, I don't understand why so many people in the gay community (especially lesbians) were offended by this movie. In one of Kevin Smith's many college "lectures", a young lesbian dubbed this film as "dumb, but harmless" (which Smith loved) and argued that the movie's message was that all lesbians need is some serious deep-dicking. Smith responded by saying that he put those exact words in the mouth of one of the dumbest characters: Banky. Just to show everyone that that wasn't the point of the movie at all. This is a movie about relationships in your twenties; an interesting time to fall in love, because you know more than you did when you were deep in the claws of puberty, but you still don't know yourself well enough to know what will make you truly happy.

Smith is known for his dialogue, and I believe he did his best on this one. He can make his characters hilarious and painfully honest; vulnerable and infuriating, but he keeps them real. He doesn't cheat on his audience by making them say what we would like to hear from this people; he's honest about them from beginning to end. Holden is and always will be Holden, and Alyssa is always Alyssa, which is mainly the reason for the film's ending.

Also, there's some pretty awesome talk about Catholic upbringing and Star Wars and sex. Sex isn't perfect in real life, and it certainly isn't perfect here. Watching the characters talk about it on screen you're reminded of very similar conversations you've had with your friends. Sure, the banter in Knocked Up and 40 Year-Old Virgin was cool, but a lot of it came from improvisation, both from the actors and Apatow himself. Smith banter is just that: banter from the man himself. If you read his scripts and later watch his films you'll find that every single thing that comes out of his characters' mouths was first on the script, and in Smith's mind before that. One-liners in Apatow movies are born from hanging out on set, having beer and smoking pot with your buddies. Smith quotes come from Smith talking to himself in a dark room while trying to finish his first draft. And you know what? The female lead is a pretty decent character, too. I usually don't like to go all-Amazon on certain movies, but I just want to say that I really appreciated Alyssa, and the effort Kevin Smith put to creating her and making her an intelligent human being with flaws, doubts, and a bag full of lessons over her shoulder. She is without a doubt one of the best female characters created by a male writer. She's not gimmicky or full of cute little tics (fuck you, Braff). She doesn't need to have them, either, because guess what? Ordinary women can also be extraordinary. It's all in the eyes of the beholder.

PERFECTION: As Good As It Gets, by James L. Brooks and Marcus Andrus (1997)

James L. Brooks must know he’s an amazing writer. Like Cameron Crowe, he has a style of his own. I thought this particular script was just a fluke, but when I read Spanglish I realized the man's style is always the same: perfection. You may not like his films, but you can't possibly read one of his scripts and don't feel something. That's why I value his talent and why I consider him my idol in this crazy screenwriting business. The point of films in general is (or used to be) creating a bond with your audience, while providing some entertainment at the same time. At least that's what I love about films. Brooks is a master at making you care. And caring about Melvin Udall, that pain in the ass everyone tries to avoid, makes you realize that if we all bothered to see the good side on those we loathe, then perhaps we'd all be friends, and we'd have lunch by lakes with noodle salad.

One of the wonderful things about As Good As It Gets is that every character has their moment; like the therapist we only see in one scene has a voice of his own, as do the people in the waiting room. It doesn't matter if they don't have any lines, they're still relevant to the story because James L. Brooks makes sure they're people and not just extras to fill the frame. Even the dog plays a major role, and not only because he helps the plot, but because they gave the dog a personality.

Whenever I watch this film I catch myself wishing I was an insufferable bitch just so I can use Melvin’s lines. But it's not all about the "sell crazy some place else -- we're all stocked up here" stuff. It's the story, and the characters' evolution, and the fact that each of them has a voice of their own. Do Melvin and Carol stand a chance? Fuck if I know. But it was wonderful while it lasted.

Stay tuned for Part II

*The film was released in 2000, but the script was written before that. Duh.

Contrast II

2008-12-18T10:34:00.005-02:00

College Years

Cheerleader Bush

Cooler than cool ObamaAnd just because I hate Jamie Foxx (real name: Eric Marlon Bishop. hehehe), check this out!
You're welcome.

I Love Garden Staters

2008-12-16T23:07:00.002-02:00

I don't know exactly why, but this little clip here made me laugh my ass off.

I wish I had that accent...

Oh, dad...

2008-12-16T16:24:00.002-02:00

I used to love having a blog. Until my family discovered it. I still blog a lot, but I filter what I post. Other times, there are things that are just too good to resist. Like the Diesel XXX party video, with all the Safe For Work porn. I posted it on my Spanish blog, and my dad saw it today. He e-mailed me saying, Sofi, I don't like the porn section on your blog. It serves no purpose.

First of all, I don't have a porn SECTION. It's just a post. Anyway, my dad saw it. He also doesn't like it when I talk about sex on my blog, which was only ONE time, and I didn't talk about having sex, but how I learned about sex when I was growing up.

The thing is, no matter how good my points are and how well I deliver them, if my dad thinks I'm wrong before hearing them, then I'm wrong and always will be.

Oh, well... Dinner tonight shall be very interesting.

Madge's Vadge Looked at Me

2008-12-12T12:23:00.002-02:00

I attended Madonna's first concert ever in Chile. I was only a few feet away from the stage, and as the show went on I couldn't believe how close I was. I could actually see that freaky vein on her arm and her Beverly Hills face. (Seriously, though, she looked very different.) At one point, she looked directly at me, but only for a fraction of a second. Years from now when we remember what an icon she was I'll be able to say "yeah, she looked me in the eye once."

The show was like nothing we'd ever seen around these parts. Sometimes I'd catch everyone standing, unmoving, watching in awe at the display taking place on the stage. The screens, the videos they were playing, the dancers, the outfits, the perfectly synchronized choreographies, the quality of Madonna's voice.

I distinctly remember an eye-catching video of different leaders and villains of the world. The image of starving children will remain in my brain forever. The montage ended with Obama footage, and the stadium went crazy. It was inspiring, and I felt like changing the world. Madonna came out to sing 4 Minutes To Save The World, with Justin dancing in rectangular screens, thus looking real-life sized. and the chorus basically says we only got 4 minutes to save the world. You'd expect the rest of the lyrics to be as motivating, but it's a lot of if you want it you already got it, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. You'd almost expect her to sing liar liar, pants on fire at some point. I don't get what that song is really about. Considering the source, I think it may have something to do with sex. It's great for parties, but not a good follow-up to a video with starving children and Hitler.

Another striking thing about the concert was how much she enjoys touching herself and/or pointing at her crotch while saying, "You can't touch this." Or how she humped an amp, or how she milked one of her dancers' fake cone boob, or how the other dancers would point at her crotch from time to time. Sure, sex and religion made her famous, but she's already fucking MADONNA, man. She's the biggest star in the world. What exactly is she trying to prove? Meh, maybe it's just part of her show. But having watched her entire show up-close I reached the following conclusion:

After 30 years of being a pop star, Madonna is still keen on reminding everyone she has a vagina.

Still, the show was awesome.

I Heart J.S.

2008-12-11T18:01:00.001-02:00

As the only person in my family who's pro-gay marriage, I find the idea of Jon Stewart agreeing with me very comforting.

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Mike Huckabee Pt. 2

Barack Obama Interview
John McCain Interview

Sarah Palin Video
Funny Election Video

Hipnotizame

2008-12-11T13:09:00.004-02:00

Pajibans can't live without each other, and we can't live with each other, either, so we post the same memes on our blogs to feel the luuuuuuurve.

1. Put your music on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

1) IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
My Stupid Mouth (to which people respond, "you like John Mayer?????")

2) WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Torn (All those years in therapy and it turns out the answer was in my iPod all along...)

3) WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY?
Steady Rollin' (hhhmmmmm)

4) HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
In The Waiting Line (hmmm.... weekend....)

5) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE'S PURPOSE??
Logo (exactly.)

6) WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Good Day To Die (I have a very clear conscience.)

7) WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
It's Not Getting Any Good (I'm too awesome)

8) WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Scene At The Open Air Market (Well, I'm a screenwriter.)

9) WHAT IS 2+2?
El Rodeo de Rancagua

10) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Barrel Of A Gun (actually, I think she's a pistol)

11) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Human Behavior (weird... he's a tree)

12) WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Dead Letter & The Infinite Yes (um... uh-huh...)

13) WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Big Decision (fuck, yeah)

14) WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Don't Look Back in Anger

15) WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Strawman (wha.....?)

16)WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
September's Lost (...so is single life)

17) WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Don't Play That Song ('cause nobody wants me to die, see?)

18) WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
What A Girl Wants (meaning: dudes with chest hair)

19) WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Marketplace (I was born there and they hid me under a table, and then I developed an amazing sense of smell)

20) WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Clementine (they all wanna be huge elephants in parades)

21) WHAT'S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
The Hindu Times (I'm super intolerant of other religions)

22) HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Strange Days With The Doors

23) WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
You Belong To Me ('cause I settled)

24) WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Someone Like You (aawww... so this is why I settled!)

25) WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Sixteen Military Wives (kinda true)

26) WILL YOU EVER GET MARRIED?
Entre Mis Brazos (it means "in my arms." Cute)

27) WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Baby Don't Cry

28) DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds (she's my weird neighbor who doesn't know her godfather is actually her father and her sister is really her mother)

29) IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Just Another Girl (I'd have THREE boobs!)

30) WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
Fallin (I'm tall and the impact is worse)

31) WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Hipnotizame

32) HOW DOES THE WORLD SEE YOU?
Judge Me (according to my iPod I'm emo)

33)WILL I HAVE A HAPPY LIFE?
Slide Away

34)WHAT DO MY FRIENDS REALLY THINK OF ME?
Depressing Song (see? Emo)

35) DO PEOPLE SECRETLY LUST AFTER ME?
Shame (we're mostly Catholic here)

36) HOW CAN I MAKE MYSELF HAPPY?
Patience

37)WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH MY LIFE?
Losing My Religion

38) WILL I EVER HAVE CHILDREN?
Hummer (as in... humming in my Special Valley as foreplay so then we can concieve?)

39) WHAT IS SOME GOOD ADVICE FOR ME?
Ce Que Je Suis (oui!)

40) HOW WILL I BE REMEMBERED?
Golden Slumbers (wet dreams? Eww!)

41) WHAT IS MY SIGNATURE DANCING SONG?
Assessment (I totally forgot how much I loved this song!)

42)WHAT DO I THINK IS MY CURRENT SIGNATURE SONG?
Another Pearl

43) WHAT DOES EVERYONE THINK MY SONG IS?
Hijo De La Luna

44) WHAT TYPE OF MEN DO YOU LIKE?
Velocity Girl (?)

45) WHAT IS MY DAY GOING TO BE LIKE?
A Day In The Life (Duh!)

Best. Site. Ever.

2008-12-09T17:52:00.005-02:00

For a Catholic-raised girl like myself, there is nothing better than this. Witness a few of my creations, all Pajiba related, of course.

Random Stuff

2008-12-09T17:16:00.005-02:00

I can prove this wasn't sent to me. How? Well, asshole, we speak Spanish here.

Click to enlarge.

Also, did you know TK is, like, insanely in love with that Gossip Girl "guy"?

And a bonus/er.

Chicks I love

2008-12-03T22:52:00.001-02:00

The one and only.....................

Elliot Reid.

5 Crappy Songs...

2008-11-25T21:11:00.004-02:00

... I can't seem to stop singing.

1- Laura Pausini. "Se Fue" (He's Gone)

Why is it bad? Well, the lyrics go "he's gone, only his poison is left" and "I'd even go to jail with him." It's fucking perfect.

2- Celine Dion. "It's All Coming Back To Me Now"
I think this is pretty self-explanatory. It's also perfect for the shower.

3- The Larry Bagby Band. "Counting My Lucky Stars"
This song is so AWFUL and cringe-inducing that it only appears in a youtube montage. Yeah.

4- Britney Spears. "Don't Let Me Be The Last To Know"
Man... fucking Britney. And yeah, when I said I can't stop singing these songs I really meant it. I'm the bitch in the red hat.

Surprise Number 5. I can't embed it, so follow the link and enjooooooooooy.

Faaaaabiooooooooooooooooooooooo

2008-11-24T00:54:00.000-02:00

Fabio is the new Mango.

Contrast

2008-11-21T01:25:00.002-02:00

I adore this kid. And I adore Amy Poehler for doing this show.

On the other hand, these girls are fucking hilarious, and not in a cute way.

If the trailer's-a- ro-rockin', don't come-a-kno-knockin'

2008-11-19T16:16:00.009-02:00

So, Figgy and Marra are doing their own Freebies List.

Here's mine.

1- Hayden Christensen Where was I? Okay, let's have ONE more.

2- Henry Cavill

He can star in my Tudor anytime. What?

3- Wentworth Miller

4- Brad Pitt, circa Fight Club (pre-wedding, pre-Botox)

5- Hot Dead Dudes

Hehehe...

2008-11-19T12:35:00.000-02:00

And in current news, people are still stupid.

A New Resolution

2008-11-14T13:26:00.001-02:00

I have decided that if I'm going to be in somebody's life, I don't want to be irrelevant.

A Great Monday

2008-11-01T16:10:00.007-02:00

It's Saturday, but I want to write about what's going to happen on Monday.

For the past few weeks, Pajibettes from around the world united to create "Paheeba" day, which consists of female oriented posts written by the female readers of Pajiba.com that will be published during an entire day. Dustin Rowles, editor of the site, was kind enough to let it happen and I'd like to extend my gratitude to him across the large American continent. You rock, Dustin.It wasn't easy to get it all together. We have an extensive message thread on Facebook to show for it. But we did it, all of us. We worked together and made it happen. It all started as a joke, really. We talked about a female revolution and put a bow on an octopus and declared we were taking over the site and turn it into Vagina Village. It was only when Dustin offered the possibility to turn our jest into a reality that things got serious. First, we had to know if we were up for the challenge. We were. Then we had to decide what we wanted to write, which took several days. Weeks, even. The posts came together and I felt confident enough to e-mail Dustin and tell him that we were up for it. I sent him a couple of finished posts and he enjoyed them.

Good.

I so wanted him to approve for several reasons, but one stood out above the rest. Sure, we wanted to be published and hear what BarbadoSlim had to say about our little revolution, but my main concern was to create quality posts to make a certain someone proud.

As I mentioned earlier, it all started as a joke, but as things got more serious I started to give meaning to it all. I can't just do something for the sake of doing it; I need to imprint some relevance on it. Paheeba day had nothing to do with my wanting to be published in an American website. It did, however, have everything to do with honoring a female reader who's going through some harsh times.

She goes by the name of AlabamaPink on Pajiba. Her real name is Amanda, and she's in the hospital. Going through the comment threads and reading her blog I've learned so much about her and what she's going through, and several Pajibans have showed their support for her by donating blood or running marathons to support those who suffer from Leukemia. Being so far away from her there's not much I can do, except support those with Leukemia who live in my country, but what I knew I could do for her was entertain her with some silly posts that hopefully will provide her a few moments of distraction.
Manda, this was all for you. All those hours of writing and getting everything together and editing posts and photoshopping images to make them look silly were to give you a nice time. Thank you for showing me through your words what courage is. I don't even know you but I'm so damn proud of you. So check out the Paheeba day posts. My only hope is that you'll think : "Good Godtopussy, I can write circles around those bitches."

Halloween is Coming

2008-10-29T14:51:00.001-02:00

Kids...

2008-10-22T16:23:00.002-02:00

My nephew Andrés (a.k.a. Pitín) on why he's so evil:

"My brain tells me things..."

Kristen Wiig Makes My Ovaries Feel Funny

2008-10-20T02:40:00.001-02:00

Dirk Diggggshuthefuckup

2008-10-17T20:30:00.004-03:00

I consider myself a rational woman, with thoughts and interests and all that crap, but sometimes it's nice to just lean back, clear your mind and enjoy the view.Mark Whalberg: give it up. Stop trying to be so badass. You've done a couple of good movies, or you've been fortunate enough to be cast in a supporting role in good film, but you peaked a long time ago. When you were doing stuff like this:

Ah, those were the days. Then you started taking yourself too seriously and you got mad at Andy Samberg for doing this:

I mean, who gets mad at Andy Samberg? It was just a sketch, and his impression was spot on.

I believe in people, as cheesy as that may sound, and I like to think even the DUMBEST individuals have some substance in them (especially Paris Hilton after New Year's Eve), but I gotta tell you, dude. To me, you'll always be that hot douchebag who did shit like this:
Fuck you, Mark Whalberg. Fuck you and drop the pants. Bitch.

Do it!

2008-10-16T10:51:00.003-03:00

An axe would be faster, but there's a certain appeal in beating him to death with a board.

It's Coming.

2008-10-14T12:21:00.004-03:00

Hormone, shmormone.

2008-10-13T16:28:00.007-03:00

You should be grateful your country even advertises birth control.

Also, am I the only one who thinks McCain has tiny hands? And please, Pajibans, spare me the "it's because you have mutant hands, you freak!!" comments.

There is no greater honor than being a Charolastra.

2008-10-07T11:13:00.004-03:00

"Y Tu Mamá También" is not only a magnificent sample of superb filmmaking, it is also a radiography of Latin American society.

I first saw this film when I was in high school. Everybody talked about the uninhibited sexuality of the characters and the graphic scenes where it was displayed. Plus, Gael García Bernal starred. There are three men Latin American girls grow up worshipping: her father, Jesus and Gael. While trying to shake off my Catholic upbringing and oversexed by clandestine yet candid conversations about sex with my girlfriends I instantly knew this film was for me.

It was so much more than what I'd expected. People talked about it as the "Mexican version of American Pie." That's downright insulting. It's heresy. This film is more earnest, real, raw, painful and beautiful than any other I've ever seen. It's one of those movies that teach you something new every time you see them and that seem to grow with you. In high school it told me one thing: sex can be used as a weapon. In college it spoke to me about social differences. Having grown up in an upper-class family with a good last name, I'd only encountered equals during my private education. That changed in college. I found that I was a minority. We see this happening to Tenoch (a fantastic Diego Luna), who happens to be best friends with Julio (Bernal, in what I believe is one of his finest performances), a kid from a middle-class family. While driving across Mexico, we clearly yet subtly observe Tenoch realizing he's extremely privileged but he remains mum about the issue. There's something changing inside of him, but it just might be too scary to admit it out loud.

Throughout the road trip, Tenoch is a foreigner in his own country. Julio stops to make small talk with the locals; he feels like one of them. Tenoch is always looking to be in charge, perhaps because that's the only reality he knows. He's a winner. He can have sex with his girlfriend in his own home, and find a new one after only two months of being single. Julio has to be sneaky in order to get laid and it takes him 9 months to get a new girlfriend. Julio is submissive and collaborates when Tenoch wants to hear every single detail about his BFF's night with his girlfriend, yet when he's asked to do the same for Julio he does so reluctantly and with his eyes elsewhere. He won't kneel for forgiveness until Julio reminds him he did the same for him. When they're in the boat with Chuy the fisherman, he wants to drive, while Julio plays with Chuy's daughter.

In spite of all their differences, Tenoch and Julio act like they're the same. They have the same friends, the same interests, but along the way we learn their backgrounds weight on them. When challenged, Tenoch doesn't hesitate about reminding Julio he's socially inferior to him, and Julio nonchalantly admits he enjoys the perks that come with being Tenoch's friend. They both share the unquenchable desire to dominate through sex. They ask Luisa who's better at it, their unfaithful girlfriends aren't people so much as they're property. They think they're experienced in the ways of life because they've done drugs and consumed alcohol and have had intercourse in different positions; they even have a manifesto. But they're kids. They're confused. They're so incredibly alone, and until they really grow up by the end of the film, all they have is each other.

Luisa, the Spanish woman married to Tenoch’s cousin, is aware of this. She’s up to her last weeks on this earth, and she’s not in the mood to fuck around. She wants to be free, and maybe pass on a lesson or two to her two avid young friends. After learning of her husband’s affairs with other women, she doesn’t think about it twice before accepting Tenoch and Julio’s offer to go to the beach. She listens to what the kids have to say, allowing them to brag about things they've done. She treats them like adults and listens to them with awe, and it thrills the two boys to be taken so seriously by the object of their desire. But she has a limit. Her no-more-bullshit rule drives her to control the two teenagers; knowing they're willing to do anything she says. By the end of the journey, and having taught them a few lessons (albeit Tenoch and Julio are not entirely aware of it), Luisa is finally free. She dies being whom she always wanted to be, in a foreign country and in her own terms.

The words flow between the three main characters, and it looks so natural you'd almost think the entire film was ad-libbed. The acting is superb, the light and look are beautiful, and the voice over narration adds to the narration and doesn't stall it. "Y tu mamá también" is a film where I can find no flaws. Perhaps I'm biased because it's one of the few Latin American films that doesn't take any sides, and both the poor and rich are complex and suffer through their own battles.

What can I say? This flick kicks ass, buey.

I KNEW Anne Hathaway was cool!

2008-10-06T17:37:00.004-03:00

Two facts:

1- Anne Hathaway is an amazing singer.
2- If my sisters and I ever decided to do an act together I'd totally get stuck playing Judy.

Bonus fact:

Mary Poppins is a slut.

Riding Pipeline, The Sarah Palin Porn Flick

2008-10-03T13:31:00.004-03:00

(Open on the PALIN residence, Wasilla, Alaska. Evening. Governor SARAH PALIN is sitting on the couch, reading "all of the magazines." She is wearing a satin negligee and bunny slippers. Her luxurious brown hair is in a bun. Her glasses rest just so on the bridge of her nose. TODD is out of town on business. TRIGG is peacefully asleep upstairs. There is a firm knock at the door. PALIN puts down her reading material and goes to answer it.)

PALIN: Who is it?

GRUFF MALE VOICE: It's JOE, the tanning-bed repairman.

(PALIN unlocks the door and opens it)

PALIN: Hiya! You were supposed to be here two hours ago, doncha know?

JOE: I'm sorry. My snowmobile broke down outside of Matunska. I had to walk the rest of the way.

PALIN: Well, you're in luck. I just baked a batch of chocolate-chip cookies. Why don't you come inside and I'll fix you a plate of 'em?

(JOE obliges. He takes a seat on the couch. PALIN enters the kitchen and returns shortly after with the cookies. She gives them to JOE, but not before looking him up and down.)

PALIN: My oh my. That's quite a toolbelt you have on. It looks heavy.

JOE: I have a big hammer.

PALIN: Oh, I betcha do. I love a big hammer. But I love screwdrivers, too! And wrenches. The fact is I love and respect all of America's diverse tools, big and small. They're what helps make us so great as a nation. Here, let me take that off for ya.

(PALIN takes a seat on the coach beside JOE and starts to undo his belt. He stops her.)

JOE: Let's go take a look at the tanning bed first.

PALIN: Oooh, okay.

(PALIN leads JOE to the tanning salon in the basement. JOE carefully inspects the machine.)

JOE: Looks like there are just a bunch of screws loose.

PALIN: (seductively) You're in luck. I fully support off-shore and on-shore drilling.

(PALIN pounces on JOE and throws him onto the top of the tanning bed. She quickly rips off his jeans.)

PALIN: God almighty! You are hung like a moose. Now I have to eat ya!

JOE: I'm bigger than a moose. Do you have any contraceptives?

PALIN: It's okay. I already took a morning-after pill.

JOE: Um, are you sure it works that way?

PALIN: Are you asking me if I know what a morning-after pill is? Because I totally do! I'll get back to ya with specifics.

(The two proceed to make furious love in a multitude of positions. PALIN amply demonstrates that she has enough experience.)

PALIN: Fuck me harder! HARDER! Pound me until my head is so empty that I can't even remember the name of the one Supreme Court case I actually know! I want it to burn. Burn like a banned book. Oh God, Oh God, OH MY GOD! MAKE ME SEE RUSSIA FROM HERE!

(After 10 minutes, the two finish.)

PALIN: Wow-eee. I haven't had a ride that good since Todd took me for a spin on the back of his Yamaha at the Tesoro Iron Dog.

JOE: That was amazing. What now?

PALIN: I feel so alive! Let's grab my gay friend and go shoot wolves from the safety of a helicopter.

(End scene)

Source: Radar Online

Pageant Girls.

2008-09-29T14:40:00.001-03:00

One of them is running for VP of the United States.

Can you guess which one?

The Answer To My Prayers

2008-09-25T18:15:00.000-03:00

For 11 months tops.

Separated at birth

2008-09-23T01:55:00.001-03:00

.........and by a few degrees of coolness.

God.

Me.

A Pajiba Kind of Home

2008-09-10T13:57:00.003-03:00

Welcome!

Thank you Cosmo.

2008-08-07T16:01:00.001-03:00

'Cosmopolitan' Institute Completes Decades-Long Study On How To Please Your Man

The Plan

2008-01-30T20:12:00.000-02:00

I have abandoned this blog but I return full of ideas.

I plan on taking a few courses at Harvard in a couple of years. In the meantime, I'll be working my ass off in order to save money for said trip. Here's where the plan comes in, entitled:

Making a 90-minute film with 5 grand.

I have a script. It takes place in Long Island, and a small portion in Manhattan. It's a simple story about people; no special effects needed. My crew and cast won't get paid - netiher will I. All the money in the very reduced budget will go to equipment rental and stuff like that. Anything that has to be paid for to get a movie made - except the people working behind it.

I'll be needing a nice crew and a good-willed cast to join me in this adventure.

Any takers?

A Petition

2006-07-03T13:33:00.000-03:00

Welcome!

I hate favors. I hate asking them because inside me there lives a very guilty girl who has absolutely no reason so feel guilt in the first place, but I cannot help it.

My petition is simple: No more Paris Hilton. As simple as that. I do NOT wish to see or hear from Miss Hilton again, not even if they name a new STD after her, I just want her to lock herself in one of her hotels and watch reruns of herself so she never has to show her face to the outside world again.

¨I WANNA HELP¨

Of course you do, hommes! All you gotta do is never touch the subject again. If someone says Paris this, Paris that, just ignore them. Sure, you WILL be hated for ignoring your friends, but soon enough everyone will hate them and YOU will be the life of the party. Just imagine yourself in a nice location with some good music playing, chatting with your friends about Aristotle and the immortality of crabs... You will be able to appreciate the morning dew glistening on a lovely pink carnation, the rainbow reflecting on a child´s smile, the sun shining furiously after a hard rain... Sure, you can do that now, but imagine doing it in a world without Paris... Priceless.

Rock and roll stars joined forces to defeat hunger and poverty in Africa. Cyber nerds can join to push Paris Hilton away from the spotlight. WE CAN DO IT!!!

But stay away from Nicole Ritchie. That bitch is cool.

Crazy week...

2006-05-20T17:48:00.000-03:00

Welcome!

It’s been one of those crazy weeks. It started with a nice tan and it ended up with my peeling like a snake changing skins. I wish that was a metaphor, but it’s not. I’m literally peeling pieces of skin. That’s what happens when you don’t wear sunscreen on sun beds.

On Monday I took compliments from my friends on how finger-licking good I looked for my big bro’s wedding. Then my friends Isa and Lili came back to my house with me and we ordered two medium pizzas. Medium pizzas are small, there’s no question about it. While Isa and I watched “Finding Nemo” on HBO Lili was talking to her boss and was fired over the phone. It wasn’t nice at all, I was worried sick about her.

Tuesday I stayed at home and went to my mom’s for dinner. I decided to sleep over there to finish a project for school, which was for the best, because someone broke into my dad’s house through the laundry yard, and I always stay up until very late in the computer room, which’s only access is from the back yard, meters away from the laundry yard. Anyway, the maid saw the guy, set off the alarm and called the cops and her boyfriend, who also happens to be a cop. There were like 10 cops inside the house searching for the thief but they didn’t find him. Of course, while they searched they left everything open, so when they left and my brother and the maid went to sleep (with the alarm and everything locked) they were terrified to hearing the alarm going off and finding the kitchen door wide open. The thief was still inside the house after the cops left. But he only took a few bottles from the bar. My guess is he was scared to death with all the cops that arrived to my house in less than 3 minutes. It’s the second time someone tries to break into my house, and curiously enough, both times my dad has been out of the country. Hmm...

So Wednesday was P day. Paranoia. I think I’m too confident and I feel overly safe in every scenario, because my siblings and my mom were hysterical. I had to sleep downstairs with the door locked and with a golf club by the bed so they were calmed. Everyone (myself included) thought I’d have a hard time going to sleep. As soon as I put my head on the pillow I was snoring, so I guess everyone was wrong.

Thursday was important for our film group ‘cause it was the screening of the offline version of our short movie. The offline is a rehearsal of the movie, you use the same locations and make everything as close to the movie as possible, only you shoot in a different format. This time it was digital and not film. We were all so nervous because our story is a comedy and we’d seen it so many times, shooting it, editing it, revising it, that we thought it wasn’t funny anymore. The worst is that ours screened after a really good film by another group. At this point I was biting my wrist.

Take a wild guess: everyone loved it. At first they laughed because we were the actors, but then they laughed at the situations and the story itself. We got FOUR rounds of applause: during and for the credits of the movie, while we were going down the stairs to face the commission for the mea culpa, and while we took our seats again. The commission didn’t say much about it other than agreeing with what we’d said we’d done wrong and the head of the department complimented us for choosing a genre and sticking to it. Yay us.

After that Lili and I went back to my house and ordered two large pizzas. She got rehired, which was more great news for that day. So we ate a pizza, vegged out on the couch because we couldn’t move, and laughed a lot.

Friday night my sister celebrated her birthday at my mom’s, so we stayed up until 5:00 AM. Her actual birthday is today, she turned 19, and it’s also my cousin’s wedding, for which I have to go get ready now ‘cause it’s 4:44 PM and I’m still in my PJ’s.

Peace out. And remember: Nobody puts baby on a corner.

2006-05-09T15:30:00.000-03:00

My friend Lili and I goofing around.

Powered by Castpost

A really cool bitch.

2006-03-25T12:46:00.000-03:00

BE COOL

A couple of cool pics.

Mick Jagger: Eat your heart out.

My sister thinks this is a "Classic Hollywood" look. I think she should cut down on the booze. Then again, she's married. She has three boys. She needs the booze.

This is a really cool bitch. You know when you've found yours. Love her bunches.

Damn the devil to hell

2006-03-19T18:46:00.000-03:00

Today it's one of those days, weeks, months, years when you feel like saying fuck a lot. And I'm Chilean, meaning I have a wide variety of curse words to choose from, but I choose the word 'fuck' because it pretty much sums up my mood. Fuck is to my mood what air is to human beings: it's my life essence.

Why, oh why, am I in such a bad mood? Because I hate my major, and I have to put up with 2 and a half years of more crap. 5 semesters of misery, only one semester giving me the chance to work on film. The rest are just crap. Crap, crap, crap. My plan was to freeze my studies here, pack my bags and go to Texas to live with my sister and study in the radio-film-TV in the University of Texas. Unfortunately I have to finish what I started, and by doing that I'm literally wasting 2 and a half years of my life.

I know, learning is never a waste, but it is when you’re not learning, at least not learning what you want. I have a deep respect for scientists but I don’t give a shit about learning science. Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.

I hate myself for not being independent and being unable to just go there and finally be happy. I’ve been feeling like this for almost 2 years now. Two years of misery with no way to reverse it are no good for a maniac depressive. And I tried logotherapy and turning this into a positive experience but it didn’t work out ‘cause I’m still here, in my mediocre world, being a mediocre student, living a mediocre life and feeling mediocre happiness. I’m sick and tired of denial. It just slaps me on the face every time I think I have it together.

On good news, a screenwriter agency is interested in representing me, they sent me a contract and all. All I need now is for someone is the business to do a critique of my screenplay, send the contract and they’ll start the selling process. I haven’t found anyone to help me yet, but I’ve already asked for an extension in the contract submission deadline, so I have some time.

Know anyone in the biz? Then help me out, please. If they manage to sell my script I’m out of here. No questions asked. I’ll sweep floors if I have to and I’ll sing “matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match” while I’m at it.

I’m turning 21 on Tuesday and I’m having a party on Friday. I hope all my friends show up. I need some serious lovin’, folks.

Meanwhile I’m dedicating all of my writing time to my period piece. It takes place in the late 1920’s, before the crash, and DAMN IT it’s fun!!! Love it.

I sort of found my female soulmate. We’re the same in so many ways, I feel like we’re versions of ourselves in different ages. Sometimes when I read her e-mails I picture myself being like her in a few years and at the same time I recognize some attitudes I had when I was younger, but mostly I recognize my present self in her words. Maybe she feels the same about me, I don’t know. Having cyber friends is weird. Having cyber soulmates is even more bizarre, like reading yourself through the screen. If I love her, does that mean I love myself? That would be pretty cool right now.

I have a thing for Garden State. The more I watch it the more pretentious I find it. I don’t know, it has so many loose ends and I’m so keen on finding the errors and flaws that it’s lost most of its appeal, that appeal you see on films when you watch them for the first time and you’re fascinated by them. This is the first time this happens to me with a film. It’s weird. Still, it’s a good movie but I don’t consider it “The Graduate” or “Fight Club” of our generation. It would’ve been if Braff had kept it simple and not tried to find quirkiness in every scene, line and sound. But the best thing about this film is that I didn’t have to buy the soundtrack ‘cause I already had the CDs of the artists featured in it. Yay for me. maybe I’m pissed because he already used The Shins in his soundtrack when it was my plan all along to introduce them to the world and take all the credit for it along with some t-shirts and guitar picks.

I need to cut down on the cigarettes, diet coke and sleepless nights. I need to save some money, kick ass in school and stop being such a spoiled brat.

Fuck me.

The A-Ha experience

2006-03-06T16:18:00.001-03:00

Welcome!

I'm back from Viña del Mar, after an exhausting 10 days of work. I got to work with the 80's band A-Ha. You know, the ones who sing "Take on me", "the sun always shines on TV" and many more. I'm too lazy to write about it all over again, so I'm gonna paste an e-mail I wrote to a dear friend of mine.

Here ya go.

Wednesday:

I woke up at 4:00 AM. Quick trip to the airport. It was crazier than I thought. Morten Harket , the lead singer, had to come out from a different door but the press saw us (booking agent, 3 security guards, a producer and me, all of us with credentials) walking to the door and followed us. We had to wait, meanwhile the reporters and the fans are getting ready for some action. The doors hesitantly open, then close, then open, then close. A beat. The doors finally open and TADAAA: Morten himself. And he's one fine piece of 40-something ass! I was like: "YUMMYYYYYY!!!!" right before the guards, people from the TV station and myself formed a circle around him and tried to get out.

The reporters POUNCED on us, TV cameras, microphones, recorders, graphic cameras, cell phones, push and pull, all the while we're trying to get Morten out of the airport and into the van. The cables on the cameras got tangled and Morten kinda freaked out for a second, but played it out well. We FINALLY got him into the van and on his way to Viña del Mar while I stayed behind to get the musicians, the manager and the crew.

Now THAT was fucked up! We had to make 3 stops to 3 different hotels, all the while the luggage is on a truck that's 40 minutes behind, we get to the 2nd hotel and one of the technicians, Sven, wants to leave his handbag in his room to then get in the van again and go to the other hotel. Meanwhile the crew is waiting outside and no one is explaining them what's going on, they only speak Dutch and English, there's movement everywhere, Sven is taking forever to get back from his room. We finally get going to the third and final hotel with another producer set up to help me (he's nice and cute but speaks NO English). And the van has to make lots of turns because of the traffic and one of the guys of the crew asks me: "Is he lost?" I answered no, of course, because we weren't.

We get to the hotel, they check in, but one of the rooms won't be ready in an hour. This guy has no room and we can't give him a temporary room either because maintenance happens to be taking place at that exact moment, so no rooms are available, the others are asking for their luggage, Sven asks me to try to get him a room in this hotel and not in the Sheraton, the restaurant that was supposed to invite all 20 members of the A-Ha team for a free dinner said "no", everyone FINALLY gets their luggage except the guy with no room 'cause his bags are int he Sheraton and not in San Martín, his real, room-less hotel.

I finally get out of there with some other guys who were kind enough to give me a hand and I learn that one of the bands (Journey) cancelled their performance and the other band member of A-Ha who was supposed to be on his way to Viña missed his flight. We drive past a restaurant and Sven waves at us like crazy. We make a U turn about 4 blocks later, and Sven wants a ride to the Sheraton, while we're going to the Gala hotel. So we give him a ride to the Sheraton, all smiles and shit, we get to the Gala, I have my first piece of food in all day and I get a call from the booking agent. She needed me to confirm a van that would take her to Santiago again. Then I call her again 'cause I forgot to tell her every single restaurant passed on the free invitation. Her words were, and I quote: "Uh-oh..."

We meet after lunch and she tells me about every single thing I did wrong. I felt like crying. But she was right, I should've explained to the crew why it took us so long to get them to their hotel, made sure the luggage was properly dropped, blah, blah, blah. Now the booking agent is on her way to Santiago to get the second artist from A-Ha and his family. I'll have to go to Santiago tomorrow to get the third and last member.

Tonight is the festival's opening night (from Wednesday to Monday) and I probably won't be able to go because I have to stay available in case Sven or the manager needs me. You'll appreciate this: her name is Kleopatra. But she's blonde. Weird... Anyway, the booking agent, Rebecca, asked one of the hotel producers to get me some help with the musicians and crew while she takes care of the band. Still, I'll get to ride with Paul, the last band member, all by myself from Santiago to Viña. That is, if he wants to talk.

Opening night. It was SOOOOO good!!! Juan Luis Guerra opened, and he's one of my favorite artists. He plays merengue, so I danced until my ass fell (even more). I got to be next to him. He's the nicest, most quiet guy I've ever seen. The closing act was Miranda!, an Argentinean band that's really big here. Their style, as they define it, is "melodramatic electro-pop". Whatever, they rocked the house and I lost my voice while singing to them.

Thursday:

I went to the airport to pick up Pal Savoy, guitar player of A-Ha. Since he's not the front man and the journalists thought he arrived the day before there was no press to greet us. We get him to the hotel and Rebecca, the booking agent, calls me to tell me part of A-Ha's crew wants to go to the venue to check out the stage and the equipment. So I take them and when we're there Sven, the sound engineer I mentioned on my previous e-mail, calls me from his hotel to tell me he also wants to check out the place. I sent a van to pick him up and they all took a look around.

1st problem:

The sound table is behind the stage so there's no way the artist can look at the sound person and give them indications. It might sound minor, but it's a huge deal. That doesn't exist in any other part of the world, and Morten really needs to see Becky (the band's VERY British sound person) to give her indications. We struggled to find a solution and I came up with putting a camera in front of Morten to capture his every move and getting a TV on the sound cabin. Even if they didn't like it, they used it.

Then came the press conference. We had to get A-Ha (which is Morten, Magne and Pal) through the back door of the hotel and get them to the press room. They did the press conference, then we went two stories up to do a brief appearance in a TV show, then did 4 interviews and one interview for the radio. All the while there's a camera following us, and since I was by Morten's side all the time I was on TV during the evening news for a really long time. I didn't get to see it, though.

Afterwards we went to Kleo and Morten's hotel to hang out. I got to talk to them and we had a cup of coffee. They're really nice people, Morten is a bit of a Diva with the press, but when he's away from the cameras he's a really nice and down to earth guy. Everyone was going on and on about how great he looked, and when I asked him about it, he said, "I think when you're at peace with yourself it shows on your outside."

That same night the Swedes (A-Ha's musicians, all Swedish, very nice guys) and Kleo (manager) asked me to take them to the venue to see that night's show. Very well. I took them and got them in the lighting and second sound check cabin, facing the stage. Then a guy comes and tells me we can't stay there, so a lady offered me a private box fully equipped with food and drinks. I put them there and they really enjoyed themselves.

Then Kleo said something very reassuring to me that made me feel like for the first time I was doing my job right. She said: "I'm so glad you're working with us, I love how straightforward you are and how you get things done right away. It's very German." I felt like hugging her. "Good", I thought. I've always considered myself messy and a bit of a slacker, but apparently I work well under pressure.

Then Rebecca tells me Perr, A-Ha's light guy, wants to come later to learn how to use our light system. When the musicians and Cleo were ready to go, I put them in a van, send them to the hotel, and wait for Perr, who arrived at 2:45 in the morning. We had to wait till the show ended for him to use the lights. Long story short, I went to bed at 5:30, finally fell asleep at 6:00 and woke up at 7:00. I didn't even bother to change into my pj's, I just collapsed on the bed.

Friday:

Big day. I had to take the crew to get the back line ready, which meant getting up at 7:00, pick them up at 8:30 and be on time for the back line at 9:00. They finished everything by 11:00, then came the mic check. Except mic check meant just plugging the mics, not sound check, and they already had that ready. Which of course meant getting them an extra hour of sound check (each band gets 2 hours): 1 hour to check mics and instruments, 1 hour for Morten, 1 hour for the entire band. It's impossible to get an extra hour, but we managed to get it. Okay, that was done.

I had a couple of hours to myself that I thought I could use to take a well-deserved nap, only I had to take care of a few things. Then my dad calls and tells me he's going to Santiago. I really wanted to see him, so I quickly dismissed the nap. There were a few misunderstandings concerning where we would meet but I finally got to him. He took one long look at me and said: "You need to sleep."

Sound check. Everything is going fine but problems quickly pile up. We're behind schedule, this isn't working, this is wrong, this isn't good enough, blah, blah, blah. I had only slept 3 and a half hours in 3 days and I was so tired I could cry. And I did a little at the venue. Then I got to my hotel and one of the other producers walks up to me and tells me I don't have to be afraid of asking for help, that we're all a team, that there will always be someone to give us an extra hand, that I shouldn't over-stress myself. She's telling me this and I answer her and tears roll down my cheeks. We hugged and I tell her between tears and giggles: "I really needed a hug."

I'm going up to my room thinking, "okay, we still have 2 hours before I have to get everyone to the show, I should sleep," but I was so worked up and stressed; sleeping wasn't a possibility. So instead I stayed in my room with Soledad, "Sole", a girl doing the same job as I, and we talked and smoked a couple of cigarettes.

It's time and I go pick up the musicians and crew (2 hotels). I put them in their dressing rooms when I get the word that A-Ha is near. I go to the basement to receive them and take them to the dressing room. Soon enough it's showtime. I take them up to the stage and they ROCK THE FREAKING HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!! More so, after they played people started to leave. They weren't interested in any other acts or bands, they just wanted to see A-Ha. The ones that did stay booed everyone else off the stage until the closing act, Chancho En Piedra (Chilean band). They played and gave the audience what they'd been waiting all night to hear.

After the show part of the crew, the Swedes, Pal, Rebecca and I went off to have a well-deserved dinner. During dinner we started organizing the hotel check-out and the vans that would take the band and crew to the airport, but Rebecca said: "You've done an excellent job. You will sleep late tomorrow." You cannot imagine how helpful feedback is for someone doing my job. I thought Rebecca was unpleased with me and my work, but it was the other way around. I was the only one she could count on for sure.

Good things.

Saturday:

I woke up at 3:00 with a very soar throat. I hat to take Morten to the airport, so I call Rebecca and tell her I'm not sure I can do it because I don't want him to catch anything with me coughing and blowing my nose on the backseat. She tells me to get to the hotel quickly so we can discuss it, because the ride to the airport is already late.

I meet Rebecca and Kleo there and I tell them what's going on. Kleo thinks the best person to discuss this with is Morten, so we go see him and Jan (his Reiki teacher), who are having lunch in the hotel's restaurant. I tell Morten what's wrong with me and he says, "Let Jan see if it's too bad. I appreciate your concern." Jan takes one look at me, says something to Morten in dutch or whatever language they speak in Norway and Morten says: "He says it's not bad and that he'll treat you on our way to the airport." WTF??

Turn out Morten didn't want to leave until someone (me) took him to the airport. I only realized this later.

So we're on the car on our way to the airport, fans tap the car window, Jan gives some pills to Morten, who then gives them to me and says "take 6 of this every day, 2 on every meal, and get some fluids in you." Whatever, I took them and during the ride to the airport while I talk on the cell phone and between my conversations with Morten, Jan barely speaks.

We get to the airport and Morten wants to downgrade his ticket from first class to business so he can fly next to Jan (those 2 are always together). We get it done but there's a problem: he wants a ticket for the value of the money he saved from changing his ticket so he can use it in the future as payment for another ticket. The thing is the airline doesn't do that, but they did it when Morten flew from Frankfurt to Santiago, so they should do it again.

We spend about 40 minutes trying to fix this until they give us something resembling that document. Jan asks me if I'm feeling better and I realize that I do, my throat doesn't feel that soar. The guy healed me!!!!! So we get them to the VIP customs and we say good-bye. I hugged Jan and for the first time I saw him smiling. Then I hugged Morten (what a nice piece of man, he is...) and he wished me the best. I was the envy of every girl in the airport.

I'm literally walking to the door when I see Rebecca walk in with Pal. She asks me to stay around to help them. Okay. Another problem: since Pal changed his ticket from Sunday to Saturday, the travel agency forgot to validate the new ticket and the airline doesn't have the authority to do it. Pal has to wait and we can't get him into the VIP lounge until his ticket is valid. Rebecca and I go to the travel agency's stand in the airport. Nobody's there. We call Javiera, the TV station's producer in charge of every flight, who's in Viña del Mar, and she tries to get in touch with the woman from the travel agency. Pal is still waiting. Javiera finally reaches the travel agent and I have to run to the other end of the airport (literally: I was on the corner of first level and had to run to the third level on the other end) with the phone on my ear to get to the lady doing the VIP check in.

Problem solved. After 1 hour Pal checks in. It's 7:50 and I have to get to Viña and be on Kleo's hotel at 9:15 to take her, the Swedes, Becky and another guy from the crew to the venue 'cause they want to see Kansas play on the show. We were running a little late, but that didn't keep me from making a stop in the highway's McDonald's for a bite. It was my first and only meal of the day.

We finally get to Viña, I'm 15 minutes late and Kleo is nowhere in sight. I looked all around the lobby for her, I called to her room. No answer. I waited a little more but I had to leave to the venue and see if they needed me, so I left Kleo a note with one of the guards telling her I was late and my phone number. I left and I was three blocks away from the venue when I get a call. It's Kleo. The guys were having dinner. I picked them up. We're walking into the venue and Kleo once again tells me how happy she is with me working with them. "If it was anybody else I'd be so nervous, but I trust you and I know you'll get things done." Relief! I asked her for a couple of A-Ha's new CDs and she said no problem, that she would give them to me the next day.

There were no private boxes available, but the same lady that gave me the box the first time I took them there let me have another one that was being used by some of the people that worked at the venue. I melted with "thank yous". Then the crew guy opens the refrigerator and immediately says: "We're gonna need more beer." Whatever...

Rebecca gets in the box and notices the crew guy and Becky are a little drunk and they're not being very nice to me. Before things got too tense we put them in a van and sent them back to the hotel. Rebecca stayed in the venue with me and said I didn't have to take shit from a crew guy and that I did more than I was supposed to do. Once again she said I'd done an amazing job, and that I really stood out from the rest of the production crew.

Yo mamma!!!!

Sunday:

I got up late again but not as late as the previous day. That day I started working with Daddy Yankee. First I had to get Kleo the ticket with Morten's downgrade money. Problem: the TV station paid for every ticket, and what they offered was a first class ticket, NOT the worth of the ticket. Meaning: if the ticket costs 100 bucks you get the ticket, not the 100 bucks. So I was the messenger. I met Kleo in her hotel, she was kinda in a rush, so I explained the situation really quickly to her. She wasn't pleased. She said "I'll talk to Rebecca." This people wanted to get the money and they couldn't. I said good-bye to Kleo and she gave me a quick, cold hug accompanied by a "thanks for all your help." That was it. No CDs, no smiles, nothing. When money gets in the way you see people's true colors. Maybe Kleo had a point, but she didn't have to take it out on me. Hate the message, not the messenger!

I was taking Daddy Yankee's people to the venue for their sound check when I get a call. I have to take the remaining crew from A-Ha to the airport. I said no fucking way. I told my producer, he learned they had been a little mean to me, and I asked him if it was really necessary for me to take them to Santiago. He said: "no fucking way."

Cool.

I'm at the sound check, everything is going great, when I get a call from Kleo. She tells me the van went to the two other hotels and was already on her way to Santiago and it didn't pick her up. The driver was already turning to get her, but she just wanted me to know. I call the driver, ask him about the situation and he confirms: he's driving back to get her. A couple of hours later I get a call from the airport coordinator and she tells me everyone has checked in. I hung up, I raised my arms to the air, I threw my head back and screamed: "A-HA IS GONE!!" I got a round of applause.

Anyway, that was my experience with A-Ha.

IT'S SO GOOD TO BE HOME!

2006-02-15T02:06:00.000-03:00

Best. Video. Ever.

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2006-02-03T00:44:00.000-03:00

MISS F

Tonight we’re awarding the biggest, nastiest bitch of all: Miss F.

Miss F has been in everyone’s life at least once (if you’re blessed or too stupid too be aware of your surroundings) but I dare say joins us every single day in one way or another and in all shapes and forms. Like that wrap you can’t open, or the eternal red light keeping you from getting home, or that person on the phone talking about completely trivial stuff while you need to make a life or death call.

Yes, frustration is definitely a bitch.

It loves to haunt you when you’re alone with your thoughts. Like right now in this, the dullest summer of my life. My ex boyfriend (now good friend. No perks) always complained about how I think things over too much. He still considers me an over-thinker (a pathological condition born out of sheer curiosity for EVERYTHING), so do my friends. They believe I spend too much time in my little world. I can be loud and funny and quite the little entertainer but I’ve always enjoyed those quiet moments during which I wear my ‘deep thoughts’ mask and I look away as if some invisible company was performing ‘La Traviata’ for my eyes only, and when the Diva starts the aria my expression morphs into utter realization. A big event, but only in my little world.

This summer I’ve been harvesting frustration for the masses. It always goes back to the ‘I’m tired of my chosen college education, I’m tired of this country, I wanna go to New York and really apply myself’ mantra. True, I chose my education (Audiovisual Communication); true, life is not always what you expected it to be; true, expectations CAN be unfulfilled, and life tends to disappoint us in one way or the other. But it’s come to a point where the only thought of going to class in unbearable.

I’ve always loved to learn, and college was always an anticipated period during my life, but I feel like I’m not really learning. People always say that in college ‘they teach you how to think.’ For about 8 months now I’ve been getting the very latent feeling that each day I become more and more stupid. I feel like I haven’t learned a thing, and if I have it’s nothing that I couldn’t have learned by myself. It’s not that my institute is bad, it’s the major. It’s too basic, which can be good or, in my case, can be very bad. And frustrating. Very frustrating.

Audiovisual communication is like this: they teach you a little bit of everything. Filmmaking, advertising, TV, and anything in that area. But they don’t really give you the chance to major in ONE thing, you just get the tid-bits and the occasional – and very limited – workshop. I think my problem is there’s no workshop for screenwriting. We have a screenwriting class, but it’s obligatory to everyone so it’s pretty basic and you can’t really make much progress because not everyone is really interested in that area, hence, they stay behind or put a bad face/make a fuss during class.

I’d just like the chance to see if I’m talented, if I have a shot at writing, just to know if I’m wasting my time or I’m on the right track. If it’s the first I’d start focusing on other interests, and I have so many. I would’ve loved to study philosophy or psychology or history or strictly filmmaking, which I would define as audiovisual psychology, leaving out, of course, bomb movies where the cast includes a middle-aged sweaty action hero with a limited vocabulary, his bimbo girlfriend and the wise janitor/cleaning person/unexpected-prophet-who-always-has-the-right-thing-to-say guy.

Maybe I’m not a talented writer. Maybe my ego’s been puffed-up for too long by people who really love me and care about me. Maybe I’m not as smart as people and some certified tests say I am and that twinkle of wise-beyond-my-years in my eyes is just dust. What I do know is that I enjoy the road to self-knowledge further more than the concept itself. And it’s been a pretty wild ride, almost 21 years of breakthroughs, moments, realizations, one or two epiphanies, premature growth, delayed reaction, and still a lot to learn. As it rises in one of the scenes in my script:

ALLIE

(Amused)

I guess I whine because I’m past
the age where it’s... socially
accepted to have an existential
crisis. But it’s stupid to think I
can have everything figured out on
my twenties…

AMELIA

You should enjoy it. I’m tellin’
you, the day I realize I have it
all figured out I’m gonna be
really bored.

Yep, that’s a scene from the infamous script. Knowing how the world works I’ll probably hear it in some other movie with a completely different plot. Collective consciousness. We’re all thinking the same things.

What I don’t enjoy, and I’m sure you’ll all agree with me, is this imminent and unbreakable feeling of frustration that can only evaporate with a good smack on the face. I honestly believe Miss F can make us better people, because it obliges us to step out of our little world if we need a break from it. And when you step into the real world you realize there are far more important things than your ridiculous little script, than your mediocre major, than your country with a limited film industry, than your web log, than the ghosts from the past, than your own life.

It’s a whole world out there. And we’re all falling into Miss F’s web.

Here’s a song from the soundtrack I selected. Very ad-hoc for my mood.

Aunt Sofía

2006-02-01T17:08:00.000-03:00

THE COOL AUNT

I have 4 nephews: 3 are sons of my oldest sister and the other one is my other sister's first. My 4 nephews are now together in my mother’s house, which is quite the special occasion, considering three of them live in the country side among vines of grape and the other is visiting from Austin, Texas. They’re 6, almost 4, 2 and the youngest one, the one in the video, is a year old. They’re a riot together.

It doesn’t cease to surprise me how much Pedro (6) and Diego (4) love their new cousin. They’re kissing him and playing with him and crawling all around the house all day long. They fight for his attention and are very sweet to him, while their mother (already mother of three boys) gives me a dreadful look as she says ‘they’re DYING to get another sibling…’ I just laugh and enjoy them.

The 2 year old is slightly jealous with the new baby taking all of the attention, so I multiply myself and give my time to all four boys. I’ve become quite an expert in putting the youngest one to sleep, while with the others I’m the cool aunt who gives them leg rides and plays airplane with them. My sisters and my mother are very surprised with my dedication and playfulness and are already offering baby sitter jobs to me. I must say, I truly admire them. Having kids is EXHAUSTING. My mom had seven. She’s my new role model.

I don’t get to see my nephews very often, which is a shame. The best part of having nephews is that it’s free love. You can love them like they were your own kids but you don’t have to raise them or change diapers. It’s heaven. Apart from the distance problem, when I did get to see them I sort of distanced myself from them, not deliberately, but because I have 6 other siblings to play with them and it suddenly felt too crowded. Now that most of my siblings are away for vacation and I’m stuck in Santiago I’m the designated kid entertainer. And I love it.

It’s remarkable how kids can transmit their energy to you. I was playing ball with them yesterday and I soon found myself laughing and having as much, and probably more, fun than the kids. And you can’t help but to feel special when they come up to you with a book and say, “will you read this to me? I like how you make the different voices.” Awww and double awwww.

It’s in moments like that or when they struggle to get your name out right that I remember how much I like and enjoy the company of kids. Specially if they’re my nephews and they think I’m cool.

Three of them are leaving later today and I’m proud to say I made the most of their time here. The other one goes back to Texas next week. I’m glad I decided to spend his time here in Chile at my mom’s house, where he and my sister are staying, because it gave me more opportunities to be with him. He can speak no more than three clear words and the other day he called me, “Pía”, which is the closest thing to Sofía. I felt like crying. I’m happy.

Clemente

2006-01-26T17:51:00.000-03:00

My gorgeous nephew humping the air.

Isn't he the cutest?

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2006-01-26T15:49:00.000-03:00

New Hair Cut!! I feel like a rock star!

And an ad-hoc song.

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2006-01-22T23:31:00.000-03:00

Death Cab for cutie - A Movie Script Ending

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Someone get me away from the keyboard...

2006-01-22T23:29:00.000-03:00

Random Rambling…Again.

I’m feeling rather communicative today so I’m gonna write about lots of things.

PIVOT’S 10 QUESTIONS

French Journalist Bernard Pivot came up with 10 questions to know people better, and they’ve become quite the sensation in James Lipton’s Live from the Actor’s Studio (one of my favorite shows.) It’s always interesting to hear what people have to say about these 10 little questions, I always try them on my family and friends, and here are my answers:

01. What is your favorite word?

You can’t ask that to someone who thinks of herself as a writer! I’ve been having a love affair with words ever since I met them, and I like them too much to pick just one. So here go a few in different languages: Farfalla (Italian for butterfly), Aista (Afghan for pretty), exacerbar (Spanish for exacerbate, which is a pretty exacerbated word all by itself) and belly-button.

02. What is your least favorite word?

Pretentious. Because it’s so pretentious…

03. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Someone who can challenge me. And a nice Adam’s apple never hurts…

04. What turns you off?

Arrogance.

05. What is your favorite curse word?

Ándate a la conchetumadre. It means “goes to your mother’s pussy.”

06. What sound or noise do you love?

Blowing air into my nephew’s stomach. The sound of the air and his laughter is just…

07. What sound or noise do you hate?

The THX logo. I feel like snakes are gonna crawl out of the speakers and into my brain.

08. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Philosopher, historian, psychologist, anthropologist.

09. What profession would you not like to do?

Anything related to math, numbers and micro organisms.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

“Sofía, meet James Dean.”

This last question always leaves me thinking about Heaven. Does it exist or is it just something we made up out of self gratification, I don’t know. What I do know is that many people are obsessed with it, and sometimes they do selfless things to earn their ticket to Heaven, which ends up being a selfish act.

I think the ultimate act of love is being selfless just because.

I’ve lived surrounded by Catholics all my life, and my father’s obsession with Heaven never ceases to stun me. I admire him for his faith, but sometimes he goes over the top. Well, that’s him and those are his beliefs. That’s his thing. My thing is being as good as I can be for myself and others. That’s the only way to live right. I think…

EVIL

People have so much good in them but also so much evil. Is it love that makes us human or evil? Is it both? Which is the quintessential human trade?

I was surfing the net the other day and ended up in Reuter’s 40 Pictures of 2005. A couple of them left me wondering about good, evil, what’s right and what’s wrong. Here they are:

The Iraqi man with the blindfold is suspected of having explosives with his car and he’s being held back by some US Troops. What stunned me was the reflection of the soldier laughing to the sky on the car window.

This little Iraqi girl was shot to death by American troops who opened fire at a crowded minibus in north Baghdad, killing 5 members of the same family, including two children, and wounding four others. This happened on December 8.

The exact same day President George W. Bush is cruising in Russian President Vladimir Putin’s 1956 Volga, the guy helping him. It’s good to know one of the top priorities of the leader of the so-called ‘Free World’ is learning how to keep the car steady. You should try doing that with your country, Georgie Boy.

The little guy trying to push the bulldozer is a ultra Orthodox Jew protesting against the construction of a new Israeli highway that has to desecrate several graves in order to exist. At what point did progress become more important than culture and tradition?

Mr. Toes down here is an Iranian serial child killer. He killed 17 children, most of them young boys he raped first, and three adults. Is death enough punishment?

The little girl covering her ears is the smartest child in the world because she’s the only one who has the guts to do that while Tony Blair gives a speech. I love the British, but Blair became Bush’s little prison bitch and by doing so offended the very strong country he represents.

I’m so political today…

THE BIG GUY

All my life I’ve questioned the existence of God, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I believe in Him. I have a need… a need for God. I’ve detached myself from the church, and I don’t really consider myself Catholic. I think I’m a Christian. To me, the difference lies on believing in Christ’s teachings rather than on the church’s. Jesus wanted us to love each other.

Most people don’t believe in God because they can’t understand how he can allow such horrible things to happen here on Earth. Here’s my version:

God said, ‘this is good, this is evil, and this is the world. Do whatever you want.’ Free will was also one of His gifts, and after thousands of years I think we haven’t learned a thing. I can’t help to picture God sitting on a cozy cloud eating popcorn and watching us on a big TV laughing to Himself as He thinks, ‘They’re so stupid…’

I went through my ‘I don’t believe in God’ phase, but I talked to my sister, a philosophy major, and she told me God gave us our soul. For a minute I felt soulless. I think human beings can have a self-made spirit, but a soul is not something we could muster without divine help. So yes, my spirit belongs to me and I created it throughout my life, but my soul was given by someone greater, someone perfect.

But what is perfect? Yes, love would fit in there, but aren’t our imperfections what paradoxically make us perfect as well? Is good + evil = perfect? Or is perfection something we think unachievable because we’ll never bring ourselves to be selfless?

If that is the case, then God has to be the guy.

HAPPY

I sang my nephew to sleep about 30 minutes ago. I haven’t been so happy in weeks.

The song for this post is on top. Death Cab For Cutie - Movie Script Ending (from ‘The Photo Album’) Is it me or it sounds an awful lot like the guy from The Postal Service? Maybe it is and I got the name of the song wrong. You be the judge.

2006-01-22T04:55:00.000-03:00

Madness! The shins cover the postal service!!

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2006-01-21T21:37:00.000-03:00

A little sneak peek at what to expect from my movie's soundtrack.

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Evolution in writing and Viña del Mar

2006-01-21T21:17:00.000-03:00

IT'S EVOLUTION, BABY!!!

It’s amazing how things change as time goes by. My script started being about the importance of family and tolerance to those who are different from us, and how we can learn from each other. With time it’s become a story about family, about our openness to learn from others and become better people, about fear of abandonment, about how truth makes us feel at home, about our eagerness to have everything figured out at once, about how in the end we all want to impress (or piss off) our parents just to get their attention about finally taking that step that used to make us piss our pants at the only thought of taking it.

The funny thing is that the less the script was about the longer it was. Now that it has more subjects it’s considerably shorter and more to the point. And the soundtrack kicks fucking ass. If this thing ever gets made I’m gonna sell my soul just so they put the songs I selected.

In the end writing is like natural selection. We evolve into the details that will make our work better in its environment. All the extra stuff just falls off, like the little toe will in a few generations from now. And we’ll always find more and more that will make our little creature (your work as a writer, you gutter head perverts) more and more fit in its reality so it can survive storms and bad reviews from self-involved critics.

I actually have a deep respect for critics, especially when they know what they’re talking about, but all those “opiniologers” (people who have an opinion about everything and everyone and don’t seem to notice the fact that they’re wearing alligator shoes with pink velvet pants) just piss me off. They say the most horrible, most unnecessary, completely trivial things just to buy some camera time. TV camera, not film. Is it really necessary to disrespect someone or something just so we can see your God-awful hairdo/gelhead on the small screen? To this people, you know who you are: GET A JOB!

Yesterday I spent the entire day in Viña del Mar on a “Technical Visit” through the hotels and coliseum that will be holding all sorts of singers and performers for the 2006 Viña Del Mar Festival. We have some big names coming that are yet to be confirmed, but word is they’ll be pretty good! They also interviewed me along with two other assistant producers to see if we could speak English. This will be of great help during the press conferences to serve as an interpreter and to see which artists they’re assigning us.

Besides that, I relished in the visit. People from abroad usually think of Chile as a third world country with people hunting in leather thongs and chanting to mystic spiritual forces for some rain. But the truth is we’re pretty civilized, and most artists are shocked to see the display of the Viña Del Mar Festival. We have the best sound IN THE WORLD, the lighting comes from Mexico, we have the best equipments and the show is broadcasted to the world. We’re right after “Rock in Rio” when it comes to importance of a Latin American music festival.

They took us to the backstage through all this secret hallways and passages, saying things like “if the artist is too important and popular we get him through the second tunnel that leads to the dressing rooms, this is the platform that gets the artists into the stage, it comes from the side, and this one comes from under the stage, and this is where the judges will be, this is the VIP room, this is a secret tunnel that leads to the third dimension” and stuff like that. It was so much fun, especially when they told us we were the only ones that could have access to all the facilities and hotels.

I’ve got the power.

Being an “attach” is a huge responsibility. You have to make sure your artist gets to sound check and rehearsal on time, that they have everything they need, that they get to the hotel safe, you have to be in the van with them, take them to the press conference, in some cases pick them up in the airport, make sure they have anything they need in their dressing rooms, which sometimes includes a blue dog with thorns coming out of his tail and more and more things that make my head spin just thinking about them. You have to be like a leach and you're gonna be yelled that for anything. And I love it.

I leave the 18th and come back the 28th.

Bye-bye sleep.

Long time no see

2006-01-01T02:40:00.000-03:00

Rambling towards the New Year

Hello to anyone on the other side of the screen. I know you’re reading this. I know I’m writing this. Telepathy is a freaky thing.

It’s been a while since my last post on this blog, I pay more attention to the Spanish version, but still, that’s no excuse to neglect my little English baby.

I don’t really know what to say, so I’ll do what I do best: ramble!!!

I’ll start with saying I had the lamest New Year ever. I’ve never been a big fan of New Year. I mean, it’s okay, but, is it really necessary to give it so much credit? It’s just midnight, every night has midnight… Sure, Janueray 1st, another year starts, hurray. I think New Year had more meaning in the past. In ancient cultures it had a deeper, more spiritual meaning. Today it’s yet another excuse to get drunk.

I don’t believe in New Year resolutions because every day you live your resolutions, not for the New Year, but for your life. I think we’ve become so freakin’ lazy we have to set a date to make up our minds about something. “Hey, tomorrow is the New Year, got to think of some goals!”

Maybe it’s not like that, not literally, but people seem to really make up their minds about something they’ll never really achieve just to feel like they’re doing something for themselves. And then they get drunk. To hell with the resolutions, gimme some champagne.

I’m turning 21 on March, which isn’t that big of a deal since in Chile we can drink as soon as we turn 18 (eat your heart out). I have no great plans for this year, except to continue college and keep doing what makes me happier: writing scripts. It’s amazing how much experience time can give you. I started a script about 18 months ago and it’s in a totally different place since the first draft. I rewrote the entire thing about a month ago and I took it from there. It turned out to be a pretty sweet, mind-blowing, belly-laugh screenplay, if I do say so myself.

The big change is that I decided to make every character a character and not someone to fill up the scenes. I actually enjoy writing for the supporting, smaller parts. It’s really challenging to create 8 different voices for people who are involved somehow but still have to keep their uniqueness and individuality. God, I love writing…

It gives me a sense of freedom only compared to skydiving or free falling. It also gives you power, a very attractive, very addicting and compelling sense of power to create your own rules, your own characters, your own world, your own society. I think all of you out there who have a blog or a media to expose your writing or your work knows what I’m talking about.

Like right now I could say “Tom Cruise is a cuckoo” and nobody can touch me, maybe most of you agree with me. That guy is losing it… His laugh is really getting on my nerves. But he sure knows what he’s doing. If I didn’t know better I’d say he has an evil plan to take over the world and build a Scientologist airport with John Travolta.

Maybe they already have one…

If I was to take over the world I’d make everyone wear sneakers and listen to good music. Enough of Britney, let’s have some indie rock. Or some Rolling Stones. Or some Björk. Isn’t she the coolest? Who else could wear a goose to an award show? Which reminds me of Ellen Degeneres’ parody at the Oscars.

Ellen Degeneres is the most promising, most brilliant and most talented female comic in the US. Hell, she’s the best comic of all. Just the way she talks and how she appears to feel out of place everywhere she goes, and how she carries herself… She’s the woman. If I ever become a well-known actress/writer/director I wanna be in her talk show.

Who doesn’t?

Anyway, elections are coming up. They wanna elect an Elton John look-alike to be the first female president in the history of my country. Personally, I think she’s nice and funny and approachable and has the best laugh I’ve heard in a long time. But so do I, and I’m not running for president. Michelle Bachelet is a socialist who deserves all my respect, but she’s not cut to be president. At least not yet, because she had other jobs in public departments (health, defense) and she didn’t deliver. But she’s just too damn charismatic to ignore…

Lately she’s been acting kind of funny. And by funny I mean insulting. Since the other guy in the race for the big chair is loaded (and I mean a 1.2 billion dollar fortune) she said: “Not all of the money in the world will buy the Chilean people.” Uh… Is it me or did she just say that the people can be bought? Did she just compromise the integrity of our country?

Whatever, Michelle… Just go back to being the nice, giggling, soft-hearted lady we all loved to watch struggle with the seat of the convertible in the Army Parade.

Happy New Year.

Song of the week: Flake Music – Spanway hits (you can hear it in my other blog)

Tid bits.

2005-08-01T16:57:00.000-03:00

"Mrs. Robinson, I think you're trying to seduce me"

Here's another thing that could save the world: "Candy" reruns. There's nothing more adorable than a Japanese made bimbo who sighs her love's name dreamily and with a devotion as I haven't seen in my life. "Candy" is a dreamer and she reminds us of our childhood, of better times; she reminds us that, as Chris Martin sang: "Everything's not lost".

You gotta love "Candy". And you gotta love Coldplay.

You know, I have the three Coldplay CDs and I gotta admit "Parachutes" is the best of all. Songs like "Don't Panic", "Sparks", "We never Change" and of course "Yellow" are spectacular. "A Rush of Blood to the Head" is fantastic as well, but the song "Green Eyes" seems out of... how can I put this? Context? It's like a stop in an album that was playing full force. Maybe it was meant to be that way. The song is beautiful in its simplicity, and the lyrics are amazing, but it feels a little out of place. "X&Y" is good as well. A little more pop if you ask me, but it still feels like Coldplay.

I watched "The Graduate" last night. Now that's what I call a good movie and a kick-ass soundtrack. Simon & Garfunkel are awesome. Specially Paul Simon. He has a song called "Diamonds ont he soles of her shoes" and it kicks ass. There's an African feel to it and it's beauiful. Paul Simon amuses me. He looks like a really shy guy and his voice is really soft but he's a monster of a musician.

I love how "The Graduate" was filmed. The long shots, the frames, the cuts; everything about it is perfect. Mike Nichols has to be one of the best directors alive. "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" scared the crap out of me. He showed just how cruel and raw people can be. And Mrs. Taylor-Burton is terrifyingly amazing in her role. I wouldn't like to run into her in a bar 'cause she would drink everything and I'd have to hold her hair back while she pukes on my shoes. Her character, of course.

Personally, I've never been drunk. Maybe it's because of the size of my head that I can stay concious for hours. I've never been drunk, I've never tried drugs and I don't like Britney. I'm against the system.

I discovered that NYC Serenade belongs originally to Bruce Springsteen. No disrespect to the Boss, but I like Pete Yorn better. 'Cause I'm against the system and I'm going to wear my clothes backwards just to be even more against it. Go ahead, hate me. I hate you, too, so I guess we're even. Just kidding. That was my big sister's humor blossoming.

So my brother is getting married and my other sister is coming from Austin, Texas for a month or so to savor every single wedding detail. Personally, I hate dressing up. It's tight. And uncomfortable. And heels hurt my feet, that's why I wear them just for the pictures and slip in my sneakers to hit the dance floor. Because I'm against the system.

So I took my classes for next semester, which starts on monday. I took a storyboard workshop. I have 10 classes and 66 credits. Now that's a lot of classes and a lot of credits. This semester we have to do a TV show. I hate (Chilean) TV. That's why I'm going to do an absurd, irreverent crazy show for all the freaks out there who are just like me.

Yeah, I guess you could say I'm a freak. I can move my ears and lace my toes without help. And I don't like Radiohead. Everyone likes Radiohead but I don't. I prefer Keane, Coldplay, Athlete and other British bands sent to the world to depress us and remind us we were dumped but we're still hopelessly in love with our ex and there's nothing we can do about it 'cause we're not good enough. And that's just sad.

Today it's a sad day. The sky is gray, it's 4:33 pm and I'm still in my pjs. I love waking up late. I'm in vacation after all.

I'm going to Egypt with my dad later this year. I've begged him to stop in Jerusalem for a couple of days but he said no. I don't why I've always felt a connection with Israel and Judaism. I don't know, it's weird. I'm Catholic but I still feel like part of me is Jewish in a way I have a deep respect and admiation for them. Maybe I was Jewish on a previous life, and I don't believe in past lives, so you can imagine how overwhelming this feeling of belonging is.

We're still going to mount Sinai. That's definitely going to be something... I can't wait to go to Egypt. I'm a huge history freak and going to the queen of ancient civilizations has got me spinning and broadcasting about it 24-7. I'm going to see the pyramids and ride a camel, how fucked up is that? I'm the luckiest S.O.B. alive and I'm deeply grateful that I'm aware of that.

The song of the day belongs to Dream Theater. "Silent man." Beautiful!

I'll see you.

Don't worry. Be Chofi.

A nice weekend

2005-07-31T20:44:00.000-03:00

Welcome!

THE POWER OF CHRIST...!!!!

My brother proposed to his girlfriend. About time! He’s pushing 30 and he still lives at him, which is perfectly fine with my dad. My sisters got married at 23 (almost 24) and 26. I’m 20 and I still haven’t had a good, long, healthy relationship. I need to go out more…

I discovered a wonderful song yesterday. It’s by the wonderful Pete Yorn and it’s called ‘NYC Serenade.’ It’s a long song, and nothing’s better than a 7:17 song who is good all the time and worth every second. Another great Pete Yorn song is ‘Farmer vs. River’. It kicks royal buttocks.

Other great bands are Athlete, The Replacements, The Beta Band, Belle & Sebastian, Soda Stereo, Los Tres, Los Bunkers and Lucybell. The last three are Chilean. Very good bands.

It’s been an exciting weekend. I visited my sister in her countryside house, I played with my nephews, the youngest learned to say my name (he calls me ‘Popía’), which is a huge event since he’s a major mama’s boy and he doesn’t get near anyone but her and his nanny. But this weekend he was infatuated with me. Nothing better than an infant’s infatuation. Just ask Michael Jackson.

Then my brother proposed to his girlfriend (huge shocker), I made a Snow Patrol / Los Bunkers CD, a guy flirted with me through MSN while the object of my affection babbled about how much he likes the CD I made for him. And in a couple of hours I’m taking my fourth semester classes through the internet. Technology never ceases to surprise me. You can flirt and get an education at the same time.

"Totally”, says one of the voices in my head. She’s always trying to steal my thunder…

“You bitch…” Hey, shut up!

“Fine… But I get to write the next entry!” She whines.

I’m about to google a head-voice exorcism.

Saludos.

Chofi.

2005-07-31T06:15:00.000-03:00

Is this the coolest picture you've ever seen or what? I took this one a couple of weeks ago. That's my nephew. I'm his aunt. We're family. Yipie.

Here's a thought...

2005-07-22T15:23:00.000-03:00

Welcome!

On Gorillas and War

Okay, I admit it: I wanna save the world.

I still think wearing sneakers or walking barefoot is better than wearing heels. My sister loves them, but let's face it: she's short. She's been wearing heels since Pinochet was in office and now she has Barbie feet. You know, with the foot arched and always on her tiptoes. Even when she's barefoot she walks on her tiptoes. She's that used to heels. And sometimes she's cranky but at least she's walking straight.

Maybe the world would be a better place if we respected animals. I love eating meat, I'm an omnivore, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna kick a cow before eating it. I bet cannibals are nice to their neighbors before they eat them. They say tension and stress affects your muscles and your flesh, so if you're gonna eat something/someone the least you can do is be nice to them.

And let's drop the Godfatherish surprises. I don't want a horse's head in my bed. I don't even want a pony's head in my bed. You know what I want in my bed? Sheets and my stuffed gorilla. I actually have a stuffed gorilla and we have a very healthy relationship. She listens to everything I say and breaks sense into me. It's like the conscience I've always had only it's materialized in an ugly gorilla. Or like the imaginary horse I refused to let go when my childhood was over and reincarnated in the gorilla.

Maybe we all need to have an imaginary friend or a gorilla to talk to. It can also be a Sponge Bob or a lovely pink Patrick, whatever suits your fancy. They come in really handy when you know exactly what you have to do but you need an extra push to actually do it. It's like your coach, it encourages you to do something you already know you have to do. Ever felt like that? Like you know you have to do but you don't want to do it for some reason? That's when Stuffed Pal comes into the picture like a sweaty hero holding the remains of a flag with orchestra music in the background and says in a hoarse voice: "Do it, bitch"

Yeah, we need more stuffed animals in our beds. Some people prefer action figures, but that's them.

I think the world would be better if we all listened instead of pretending to listen.

I think the world would be better if the media didn’t manipulate information and covered what really matters. Do I really need to know how much Britney spent on her own engagement ring? And it’s a hypocrite attitude for me to say that ‘cause I’ve commented on Britney and other megasuperstars on my previous posts, but that’s a consequence of the media. I just don’t want to see the latest of the Michael Jackson trial after the report on Hurricane Emily.

That’s exactly why E! is such a good thing. E! News Live is awesome for two reasons: Giuliana DePandi and Patrick Stinson. They’re funny, they have good onscreen chemistry and they’re not afraid of laughing at themselves. It’s okay for E! to talk about celebrities and showbiz because it’s an entire channel dedicated to that. That’s why the other stations should stick to real news.

But hey, Hollywood sells (a whole lot) and in the end it’s all about ratings and sponsors.

We’re not focused on what matters. We’re not focused on Africa and all the starving children. Ideas like Live 8 are great, people and leaders go there to help. But do you really think certain leaders will let go of their own concerns to help others?

Some people say Live 8 was just a scam. They say Bush was there to clean up his image a little.

I think Bush really wants to help. He’s just doing it the wrong way. Take the troops back home! Some people think all the attacks and suicidal bombing are due to the occupation, while the occupants think if they leave things will go worst. Who do you believe? Is there a focal point in all this issue?

Others think I have no right to have an opinion on this matter, but let me tell you: I do. Chile has a seat in the U.N. and we opposed the war. What a bad time to be against it. We were just negotiating a trade treaty with the US. They threatened to forget about the treaty if w didn’t support you.

So let me get this straight: my country won’t grow unless we approve a war?

We said no anyway. The treaty was signed.

Tony Blair was pissing his pants. He said yes.

President Lagos was portrayed in a play in the UK. He had a small part, but it showed the moment when he said ‘no’ to the war. The audiences ALWAYS applauded that moment.

Bush came to Chile last year. He tried to break the protocol by bringing his guards into a room when no other leader was allowed to do that. His guards got in a fight. Lagos stopped them. I don't sympathize with Lagos' party but that man has some massive balls.

I think democracy is a great idea. It’s corrupted, like any other system, but I believe it’s good. So go and take democracy to Iraq. And while you’re at it, why don’t bring democracy to Cuba? Because it’s right next to you. National security first, of course, I respect and understand that. Still it’s horrifying when you visit Cuba and people in the street beg for you to give them the soaps from the hotel.

Annoyance

2005-07-14T13:17:00.000-03:00

Welcome!

You don't wanna mess with me!

Have you ever felt like you wanna kick someone's ass just because you can't stand them? I have a list of fictional characters I'd like to beat up. Here are some of them and the reasons why I'd like to give them a black eye.

Dawson Leery.

Ever watched 'Dawson's Creek'? I've been watching the reruns lately and let me tell you something: whine, whine, whine. Dawson Leery is a stupid, selfish, filmmaker-wannabe blonde boy who likes to use big words and film stupid, fluffy, mushy movies with his Hi 8 camera. I wanna beat him up so bad I change the channel whenever he's on a scene. Kuddos to James V.D.B, who played the role. If he wanted him to be obnoxious and annoying, let me tell you something, Jimmy: you succeeded. And the best of all is that he didn't get the girl in the end!

Jar-Jar Binks.

Need I say why? Jar-Jar Binks is annoying. His ears are annoying, his voice is annoying, his accent is annoying, his digital skin is annoying, his presence is annoying. Even his name is annoying. I found a game in the internet where you can shoot Jar-Jar. I felt better.

That's about it with fictional characters. The real life people I'd like to beat up are:

Kevin Federline.

Please... don't get me started. Then Britney would beat him up and afterwards they'd make up and on the next season of her reality show 'Chaotic' Britney would shriek for the whole world to hear "I had sex 5 times today... With a crippled!"

George W. Bush, a.k.a. W, a.k.a. The Bad Guy.

I guess he's not a bad guy in real life and probably his daughters think he's cool 'cause they gave him an I-Pod (maybe he wasn't cool enough, I don't know). He plays golf, he had fun when he was in college and his family seems to respect him. But did he have to run for president? Actually I wouldn't beat him up. I would just send him to a Golf course with his I-Pod playing "I killed an Arab" or something. Give it a rest, George.

Hitler.

Enough said.

I guess that's about it and there are probably a dozen people (at least) out there who would like to beat me up. I won't fight back 'cause after beating up Kevin Federline I'll be pretty exhausted.

Or maybe I wouldn't even bother to beat anyone up. If I do I won't be any better than those who annoy me. But, God, it would feel good....

I need to hit a pillow.