What is it that I want?
A few days ago I decided to have a look at some old posts on this blog, since I might be the only one who's actually reading this shit, and realized that posts from two fucking years ago were about the same things I'm still writing. After two years, a trip to Europe, lost of money earned/spent, headaches, heartaches, fun times and new people, I find myself in the exactly same position. I was hoping for the 180, but the 360 took place.

I honestly, honestly tell you that coming back wasn't in my plans at all, but there was no possibility of me staying there any longer. As I was walking to my work this afternoon, under rain, I just looked around and didn't feel right. I don't belong here and this is something I figured out the moment I set foot in London. London can be a difficult city to live in if you don't make reasonable cash, but also gives you possibilities to make this money if you're willing to work hard. It's sad being here and seeing people working their asses off and earning close to nothing at the end of the month, and if they complain they get sacked and another sucker will kiss some stinky asses to keep their badly paid salaries. I'm sick and tired of it and makes me feel ashamed of having been born here.
The constant feeling of fear when walking, being afraid of walking after 8pm because you might be mugged just around the corner. Is that living?

On the other hand, I wonder if I threw possibilities down the drain as well. What have I learned in London? Poland? Well, one thing I learned for sure, that I don't wanna beg anymore. My time begging for things is over, I'm done with that, finished for good. I'm sick and tired of seeing people living the good life while I barely get by, not without the help from my family, always.
But it's harder when you don't know where you real place is. I don't know where I'm supposed to be, I just know where I'm NOT supposed to be, but I don't think that having this clear in mind is helping at all, on the contrary, it makes the whole situation get worse.
The sad part of all this is that I had the same doubts nearly ten years ago. Haven't I learned anything AT ALL?
What is it that I want? What is it that is missing?

Dream's over

"The dream is over..."
Two months, several hundred reais, documents, people involved, stress and a dangerous borough. In two days I went from superconfident to apalled bastard.
I was denied the visa.

It's been a couple of strange months since I came from Poland. I didn't think life could be worse than it was, but apparently I was wrong. Since I landed here I've been dealing with a mother desperate to kick me out of the house, lack of money, not much work and the near future looking bleak as the holidays are around the corner and I don't know what I'll do to survive.
I got this job at this place that gave me only a few hours to work, the same problem many teachers have, and the structure to perform the job isn't the best.
My plan A was to apply for the fucking visa. And you know what? Deep inside I was totally confident that I was gonna get it, why shouldn't I, for Pete's sake?
Even though I was scared of what was gonna happen abroad, I thought that at least the visa, after trying unsuccessfully to build a career here in Brazil, would allow me to try and get something out there.
I got the papers, I was advised by an agency and set off to Sao Paulo for the interview. I traveled last Tuesday and different from the other times in SP, I found myself in the middle of Capao Redondo because I had no other place to stay.
I was almost out of cash. I had to borrow money and spent all I had here on fees. I spent half my money on cabs in SP and I promissed never again to stay out of the walking-distance perimeter around Av. Paulista.
I honestly love SP, but I would never, ever, EVER consider staying or living in a place other than the downtown area (surrounding areas). After the initial shock when I arrived in the city Tuesday night, with a light rain falling and a slightly cold temperature, I when to sleep at Fe's cousin's place. Anderson and his family couldn't have treated me better, but I need to confess that the area affected me big time.
On Wednesday I needed to go to Conjunto Nacional because I had to sort out my tax-back situation and the office was there. The rain was now pouring and it took me two hours to arrive there. I got to the building but the office'd already been closed. I couldn't believe it! After all that obscenely long 2-bus journey (actually 3-bus journey; I had to change buses in the middle of the ride because it'd broken down), all the patience, getting soaked, everything I did was in vain. I got annoyed and just one thing could cheer me up a little: booze.
I sat in one of those bars on a street crossing Paulista and asked for the 500ml beer, the pint, which I drainded in 20 minutes. Three beers followed the first one and I have to tell you that leaving the bar was a difficult job to perform. The breeze was cool, I had my cigarettes and my paper and pen to write some shit down and a football match on TV. I thought about a lot of stuff too, stupid things mostly (what a surprise).
At 9:20pm I was at the bus stop and waited for the fucking thing for one solid hour, and the fucking thing was fucking crowded. Bottom line is that I got home at midnight. I was exhausted and hungry and had the most nerve-wrecking day awaiting me.

Everything went worng. My interview lasted 20 seconds after staying there for three hours. It was a joke and I don't want to talk about it now. Still mourning.
I had arranged to go to Ubatuba and spend a day at Fe's place, but I couldn't see myself taking a subway to Terminal Tiete and facing a 4-hour journey to the beach on a shitty weather. I took a cab and headed for the airport. My flight was scheduled for Saturday afternoon but I couldn't stay there one more minute, even if I wanted to. So, after nearly begging on my knees to get on the first flight to Porto Alegre, they allowed me to board after paying a R$ 100 fee for rescheduling my flight. That was all I got in my purse. In fact, I had R$ 104 and some coins. But I had to negotiate this deal because they wanted to charge me the difference between tickets (I'd bought a promo one) and that amount was R$ 170.
But I got it for less and all I needed to do was wait for two hours and board. I bought some water and the paper. Always the paper.

I got in Porto Alegre tired and pissed off and smelling. I took the bus home but at least the suitcase was small. I met Adri and we had beers, I needed that badly for sure.

Now I need to get my thoughts together. Shit.

Something strange happened today. I'm confused.

3rd week

Those were taken last Saturday, my third week in Poa. Myself, Adri, Lunara, Tiago and a Turkish guy, whose name I don't know for sure but sounds like David, were trying to find some place to dance but it was all crap. The Turkish guy was actually sick, he looked a little funny.

We couldn't decide on where to go so we all went home around 1am. Real waste of time. I was good to see them, though.