I usually don't like my birthday. I always cry, I'm hyper emotional, and I'm extra sensitive.
But this one, perhaps because I braced myself so hard against it, was a good one. I went to the beach on Saturday, had a blast, followed it with burgers and chocolate, then had brunch on Sunday, and today, the actual day of birthday, was pain and sob free. I was happy-- happy to go to work, happy to have dinner afterwards, happy to open gifts, happy to take the phone calls, happy to wear my new dress, happy to celebrate me.
Maybe I've grown up. Maybe I got used to it. Maybe I'm actually okay with a day of being special now.
I don't have a deep emotional post to put up today, much as I expected I would. Things are suddenly very simple. All I wanted was to feel loved. I felt loved all weekend long, and all day today. Everything was okay, and I am somehow, 1 hour and 15 minutes away from the end of my birthday, still okay.
I am at peace.
I am happy.
Everything is just as it should be.
What can I say? ...
Happy Birthday to me!
Showing posts with label age. Show all posts
Showing posts with label age. Show all posts
Monday, July 16, 2012
Saturday, July 2, 2011
My Friend Marina
A measuring system that can accurately describe how much Marina Nacamuli means to me does not exist.
She is my dearest and oldest friend. When we meet someone new in each others lives, she knows I love to tell them that she has been my friend since we were four years old. I love to say that because it's how I let everyone know that she is part of who I am.
Marina likes to play jealous. It is one of her defining traits. She is possessive of her friends, because she loves them very deeply. But, and I know that on some level she knows this, she does not have any real motive to be jealous with me. No one will ever mean as much to me as she does. No one can compete with her. She is one of the most important people in my life.
When I got my heart broken once, I collapsed onto the streets of Midtown, started to cry uncontrollably, and I called Marina. I don't know where she was or what she was doing, but she was by my side within fifteen minutes. That is the kind of person Marina is. She will drop everything and go anywhere to be by your side when you need her. Her love for her friends is palpable.
Marina often asks me to edit something, or write something, or be part of a project. She created a fan page for me on facebook, she comes to watch all of my plays, and if I ever need help with any creative project, she's right there for me. She roots for me, and she believes in me. This is something that touches me very much and I am infinitely grateful for.
We grew up together, we created worlds together, we tried to learn French together, we started liking boys together, we've traveled together, and we've made New York our homes together. Life has kept her near me, and she is constant in my story.
She knows everything there is to know about me. Our friendship is extremely special, but I often take it for granted. When I have moments like today, where I celebrate her, I am present to what a rare gift such a friendship as this is, and I am moved to tears.
Today is her birthday, and she is in Europe. I can not physically be with her, I can not even give her a gift, but I want her to know that she is everything to me. I love her so much that words, which always come so easily to me, evaporate as I try to do justice to how much she means to me. I state the facts of our friendship in hopes that they speak for themselves: it is her 26th birthday and it is the 22nd anniversary of our friendship. It is with absolute certainty that I say that though those are a significant amount of years, they are just a fraction of what we'll look back on at the end of our lives.
Ma, I do not know who I would be without you, and I do not ever want to find out.
A teacher of mine once asked me, "Do you have a best friend?" And I answered, "Yes, I have always had one, and I always will. My friend Marina."
She is my dearest and oldest friend. When we meet someone new in each others lives, she knows I love to tell them that she has been my friend since we were four years old. I love to say that because it's how I let everyone know that she is part of who I am.
Marina likes to play jealous. It is one of her defining traits. She is possessive of her friends, because she loves them very deeply. But, and I know that on some level she knows this, she does not have any real motive to be jealous with me. No one will ever mean as much to me as she does. No one can compete with her. She is one of the most important people in my life.
When I got my heart broken once, I collapsed onto the streets of Midtown, started to cry uncontrollably, and I called Marina. I don't know where she was or what she was doing, but she was by my side within fifteen minutes. That is the kind of person Marina is. She will drop everything and go anywhere to be by your side when you need her. Her love for her friends is palpable.
Marina often asks me to edit something, or write something, or be part of a project. She created a fan page for me on facebook, she comes to watch all of my plays, and if I ever need help with any creative project, she's right there for me. She roots for me, and she believes in me. This is something that touches me very much and I am infinitely grateful for.
We grew up together, we created worlds together, we tried to learn French together, we started liking boys together, we've traveled together, and we've made New York our homes together. Life has kept her near me, and she is constant in my story.
She knows everything there is to know about me. Our friendship is extremely special, but I often take it for granted. When I have moments like today, where I celebrate her, I am present to what a rare gift such a friendship as this is, and I am moved to tears.
Today is her birthday, and she is in Europe. I can not physically be with her, I can not even give her a gift, but I want her to know that she is everything to me. I love her so much that words, which always come so easily to me, evaporate as I try to do justice to how much she means to me. I state the facts of our friendship in hopes that they speak for themselves: it is her 26th birthday and it is the 22nd anniversary of our friendship. It is with absolute certainty that I say that though those are a significant amount of years, they are just a fraction of what we'll look back on at the end of our lives.
Ma, I do not know who I would be without you, and I do not ever want to find out.
A teacher of mine once asked me, "Do you have a best friend?" And I answered, "Yes, I have always had one, and I always will. My friend Marina."
Minha querida abu, te amo muito.
Happy Birthday.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Royal Wedding Chat

Conversation between a Teenage Girl and a Bubble Buster:
Teenage Girl: OMG! I'm soooo excited about the Royal Wedding!
Bubble Buster: Really?
TG: Totes! Kate is like our Diana!
BB: I sure hope not.
TG: Huh?
BB: You know Diana was bulimic and suicidal right? And that she, like, died.
TG: Whatevs! She was a princess, she was beautiful! Everyone loved her!
BB: Everyone except her husband and his whole family.
TG: Yeah but like, Will loves Kate, you can totes see it in their eyes.
BB: You can?
TG: Uh, yah.
BB: You know Kate will have to walk three steps behind Will when in public from now on, right? And she can't wear ankle boots or dark tights or too much make-up anymore?
TG: Who cares, she's going to be a princess!
BB: Clearly that's a bigger selling point for you than it is for me. We'll talk in ten years and see where we're at with all this, ok?
TG: (rolls eyes) Uh-huh.
BB: (rolls eyes) Enjoy the wedding.
TG: I will! (updates facebook status to: OMG, I never want to be old.)
image from here.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Ten Years Ago, or Laly meets Larissa
Since my last post was about my vision of myself in 10 years, it has me thinking of who I was ten years ago as well, and what that version of me wanted me to become, and what she'd say to me now. I decided 14-year-old Larissa and 24-year-old Larissa should meet and have a talk, so I wrote it out, and I used my left hand to write out my younger self's dialogue, since writing with my left hand gets me out of my head and lets that younger me really express herself, and then I replied as myself now, with my right hand. I hope this isn't too confusing. Here it is. I'm calling 14-year-old me by Laly because that was my nickname then, and an appropriate description of who I was as well.
Larissa: Hi, Laly.
Laly: This is kind of odd, I have to say, Larissa.
Larissa: You must think I'm old.
Laly: No, I'm relieved that you don't have pimples and that you're so pretty!
Larissa: You're beautiful. You don't know it yet, but you are.
Laly: People say that all the time. I still wish I was blonde. What happened to your nose? And your boobs?
Larissa: Plastic surgery.
Laly: Oh. Wow. It looks great.
Larissa: It'll hurt.
Laly: I'm afraid of pain.
Larissa: That is still the case.
Laly: Are you an actress?
Larissa: Yes. I am.
Laly: I'm so happy to hear that!
Larissa: You've just played Ophelia, right?
Laly: Yes! Oh my god. I loved it!
Larissa: I know. I still love that memory. You will do a loooot of Shakespeare, honey.
Laly: That's so exciting. So, like, what else have you done?
Larissa: Well, you know that TV show that you're completely obsessed with, Inside The Actor's Studio?
Laly: Yes!
Larissa: Well, I'm just gonna say this: you're going to get a lot closer to it than just watching it on TV!
Laly: Oh my god. Ok. That's amazing. What else? Are you married?
Larissa: (laughs) No, darling. I'm not married. I forgot- you're not a feminist yet. Oh, you're in for a ride. But don't worry, you will love so deeply, and you will be loved just as deeply, and it'll be wonderful. And I'm only 24!
Laly: I think I'm in love now. With two guys.
Larissa: I know. You're going to break both of their hearts. It's ok. Enough people will break your heart later on to make up for it.
Laly: That sounds painful too.
Larissa: It's delicious pain. And it's gonna make you a much better actress.
Laly: Ok. I can live with that. It's really cool seeing you. You seem totally awesome.
Larissa: Hah. Yeah. It's really cool seeing you too. I had forgotten how in love with life you are, how eager you are. How in love with life I am, how eager I am, I should say.
Laly: Well, I'm here to remind you. Always. And can you come by more often to remind me that I'm gonna have clear skin one day and nice boobs and pretty hair?
Larissa: Of course. You won't listen. But I'll try my best. And you should eat more. Your metabolism is really good, eat as much as you want. Diet later in life.
Laly: I'll try to remember that. Oh, and remember that there's nothing more important than integrity in acting. Please don't give in to social pressures, ever.
Larissa: Ok. Thank you for saying that. It's hard, being unemployed most of the time, and wanting people to like you.
Laly: I bet. But we're gonna be ok. I think we're doing really well so far!
Larissa: We are.
Laly: Ok, I gotta go call one of my friends and tell them about this because it's like totally awesome.
Larissa: Go for it! I'm totally posting this on my blog, I think it's amazing to talk to you. Bye for now, darling.
Laly: Bye. Hey, by the way, I'm your biggest fan.
Larissa: I know. And I'm yours.

me at 14 with shahar

me now.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
In ten years...
I have been challenged by fellow blogger http://copasetica.blogspot.com to write here about how I see my life ten years from now.
In ten years...
I'm 34, five months away from 35. I love it. I plan a beach trip for my 35th birthday.
I am acting, a lot, in films and plays that I love and that touch people in some way. I am getting paid to act in these beautiful films and plays. I am making a living as an actress and I am loving it. I am playing characters such as Becca in Rabbit Hole, Lizzie in The Respectful Prostitute, Billie in Women of Manhattan, Kat in Dylan, Joyce in Top Girls, Jessie in Night Mother, and many, many more. I am saying something with every project, I am happy with my career. I have worked hard and I am working harder every day, because there's always a new story to tell, and a new set of ears that needs to hear it.
I am involved in some kind of women's movement. Maybe a magazine, or a foundation, or a home, or a theatre company, or a film company, or all of the above! Basically, I am working with women and for women. I will also have either gotten my Ph.D in Women's Studies or am on my way to doing so!
I am still here, blogging, and loving it. Hopefully with more followers, but if not, it's ok. I rather really touch a handful of people than have a thousand readers who retain nothing. I have either published something already or I am in the process of writing something that will get published sometime soon.
I am still in love with cooking, and possibly have done something about it. Say, started some kind of delivery of home-made goodies business, or just planned a regular dinner every thursday night for people I love to eat the food I love making.
I have traveled a lot, I have seen at least ten places I had never seen before, like Iceland, Vietnam, Morocco, South Africa, Russia, Japan, Ireland, and India. I am planning even more trips. I have learned at least one new language really well. Hopefully two.
I have found ways to thank my family, especially my parents, for their love and support through out the years.
I look great. I mean- whoa. I look really great! It's fantastic to be in my 30's! All the yoga and face creams and organic food looks really damn good now. I look beautiful, yes, but because I feel healthy and happy. I am at peace, and it feels amazing.
I am in love. Madly in love and in a committed relationship with a man I have a real, truthful connection with. Someone I can rub my feet on when they get really cold in the middle of the night and he won't question why I don't just put on some socks. Someone I cook for with such joy the food I make seems to smile at us. Someone who wants to go to feminist meetings with me (ok, I know, I'm pushing it... but hey, a girl can dream...) Mainly, someone who holds me but also lets me fly, with love and care.
I think I may have a kid by now, but I actually don't want to predict that, or to predict wanting that. If I am meant to be guiding a precious little soul through this world by now, then I will happily embrace it. If not, then I will embrace whatever other callings life has given me for now.
The essence of all of this is, I am happy, and I am living my dreams and making new ones every day. I feel peaceful, free, successful, and powerful. Life is exciting, and I can't wait to watch the next ten years unfold and continue to reveal to me who I am.
****
If your name is written below, I challenge you to write a blog post about your vision of yourself in ten years as well.
Gugs
Maria
Gabi S.
Deema
Ma N.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Marriage & Kids & Life's Equations, Oh My!
In exactly four months I'm going to turn 25. Ok. No big deal so far. I mean, it's the quarter-life birthday and I'll officially be in my mid-twenties, but it's not exactly a big deal. And in New York City, it's certainly no big deal to turn 25. It's no big deal to turn any age here, really.
But I'm Brazilian and I'm a woman. And I'm single. Very single. So single I haven't shaved anything in over a month. (I know- TMI- but I have a point here). And that thing is starting to happen- that thing that all women loathe, that thing that makes us avoid family gatherings and picking up the phone altogether- that thing is: people are starting to ask the questions.
Actually, let me be really specific. People are starting to replace the questions. "How are you?" is now "Why don't you have a serious-boyfriend-soon-to-be-fiance?", and "How's your career going?" is now "When are you going to produce off-spring?"
Being happy, single, and in pursuit of professional success is about to stop being charming. I mean, it's all good, but you know, I should be dating someone. I should be moving in with someone soon. I should be showing someone that I'm very good wife-material so that he'll propose and we'll have a wedding so that everyone can know that he married me before doing the absolutely most important thing in this whole ordeal: impregnating me before I turn thirty.
Yes, even in the year 2010, even after women have fought for centuries for their right to be seen as more than just baby-makers, that is still what is expected. And even though everyone knows I'm a feminist, even though everyone knows I have a passion that drives my life, even though I am not even twenty-fucking-five, that is still what is expected of me.
They may have even stopped saying it as much, they may have made TV shows and movies around the world about women who are over 30 and still single and possibly even happy about that, but things haven't really changed. Yes, it is theoretically and practically "Ok" now if you're a woman over 30 and single and childless and doing things that are still completely about you. But when a woman gets married and has babies before she turns 30, she suddenly feels like she belongs in society. Society looks at her approvingly, people treat her differently, there's a certain relief: one more woman in the world has fulfilled her duty. It doesn't matter if she ends up divorced and her children end up fucked up because their mother was unhappy- she still made it, she crossed the finish line.
So when we turn 25 we have a choice. We can give in to our need to belong (and we all have that need, there's no use pretending we don't), and look for a reliable responsible mate with whom we can get married to and have children with in the next five years.
Or we can say fuck fitting in to the conventional mold, fuck society's expectations, fuck my family's questions, fuck it all, I CHOOSE ME. It sounds empowering. It sounds kind of wonderful for someone like me, who wants to live life exactly as I wish to and never because I'm supposed to do anything. I don't really see the appeal of a five-year-plan being: marriage and kids. I want my five-year-plan to look something like: get a lot of acting work, learn another language, travel to at least five places I've never been to, throw dinner parties for my friends, write more, read a hundred new books, look into getting a doctorate, start a book club, do more yoga, meditate daily, flirt with more strangers, learn more about wine, draw, paint, and dance every week.
But there's a little problem with the equation: I care about what my family wants for me. I want to have kids, and I want my parents to be able to watch them grow up. I don't want to give my mother a heart attack by getting pregnant out of wedlock. I would actually much rather answer, "Yes, I'm madly in love and in a relationship with someone I'd like to have kids with one day" than "No, I don't have a boyfriend and I'm ok with that right now." The latter statement is not false, but I can't pretend I don't want to able to say the former someday, and maybe even someday soon.
As the infamous tv show "Sex and the City" showed people around the world: It is fabulous to be a glamourous single woman over 30, until it's not and all you want is a man to settle down with. In the end of the show, all those gorgeous, smart, funny, financially successful, sexually free and happy women had settled down with a man, and were happy to do so. And I actually think that was somewhat realistic. In the end, we don't want to go to nightclubs and hip restaurants every weekend with our single girlfriends for the rest of our lives. We can still do that, of course, but isn't it nice to also have the option of staying home with your significant other, or going to the restaurant you always go to with them, or even going to that new nightclub with them? If we're single, we don't have that option. We can stay home alone, we can go out to eat alone, we can go to museums alone, and all of that can be great too, but we have one less option in our lives, and that is the option of sharing our lives with someone we love. And, in my opinion, it happens to be one of the most delicious options in the world.
So, society's pressure + wanting to make my family happy + desire to find someone to love and share my life with = planning to get married and have kids within five years. But wanting to live my life without ties + pursuing my dreams + enjoying my life alone = planning to not be getting married or having kids anytime soon.
It reminds me of when I learned in math class that 1/2 + 1/2 = 2/4, which was simplified to = 1/2. It seems I have to choose either one whole equation or the other, because if I try to take half of one and half of the other I won't end up with a whole. I can't get married and be single, I can't have kids and not have kids, I can't be with someone and be alone at the same time.
A very problematic set of equations, I would say.
Problematic because, well, I simultaneously want it all and am not sure I want any of it. Sounds like a Quarter-Life-Crisis, doesn't it?
What I know is that I'm going to turn 25, I'm going to have to deal with social expectations, with questions I don't want to answer, and with my own uncertainty regarding my future. This will never stop. On the heels of my 30th birthday or my 60th birthday I will be dealing with doubts and pressures as well, I'm sure. I know that I am affected by these things but I am aware that thinking about them ultimately changes or influences nothing. I can't know what's going to happen or if making a decision about what I want would even matter. All I can really do, it seems, is ease my way into the unknown and, like most 25-year-olds, hope that life will figure it out for me.
Monday, January 18, 2010
To Age or To Pretend Not To Age
I personally think that women like Meryl Streep and Helen Mirren, who let themselves age gracefully, are far more attractive, intriguing, and inspiring than women like Cher or Sophia Loren, who froze themselves in time and, to me, look completely artificial and downright scary.
But I know that aging is difficult for women- the world we live in, particularly the show business world, favors youth. I have nothing against delaying wrinkles and trying to look like the best version of ourselves at any age. I already use eye cream, for example, and I know I don't need it. I like to take care of myself and I certainly do not judge women for pursuing youth, but I do think some women go too far. When I see an older woman with a frozen forehead and mouth, excessively artificially tanned, and filled with scars behind her ears and on her scalp from countless face-lifts, it makes me sad. It makes me sad that women go to such measures to look like they have won the battle against time- and thus won the battle against society's prejudice against older women. It makes me sad to know they haven't- the world looks at them and, for the most part, thinks them ridiculous.
I read a book on beauty the other day (while in my dermatologist's waiting room- go figure), where the author interviewed hundreds of women on beauty. They all seemed to agree that what made a woman beautiful was confidence. And I have always agreed- what made Sophia Loren seem so sexy to me was her confidence. When I see her now- stretched out and orange, barely able to speak- I want to scream. Or cry. Where did the confidence go? Does it seep out of these women as aging takes its toll? Was it really confidence that made them beautiful, or was it beauty (the beauty of youth) that gave them confidence?
I know, even as I write this, that I understand very little about it. I haven't watched the face I'm used to seeing in the mirror change into one I don't want to recognize. I don't know what it's like to find fragile white hairs amidst my mane of thick black hair. I can still look at my hands without them accusing me of having lived more years than I care to remember. These are all things I can imagine, but I do not know them yet. And, like most young women, I think I'll be different- I'll handle aging with grace, I'll wear my white hair long, I'll sneer at botox, I'll find the beauty of every wrinkle. And I really do hope I will- but who knows? I think Meryl Streep is aging gracefully, but maybe she doesn't think so at all. Maybe she wishes she had taken the hormones Cher took, even if just to fool herself, for a little while.
We can't know how each woman is really handling aging- it's such a personal thing. Even Gloria Steinem, mama of Feminism, shocked people when, on her 75th birthday, she was asked about aging and, instead of answering that she was above that, she said, "Now, I look in the mirror, I see all kinds of age changes, and I think, 'Well, I expected that, but not THAT!' Beginning at around 50, I started to realize that our bodies lose what they need to support someone else, and keep what they need to support us. How smart is that!? It’s interesting to watch my body do something that it knows how to do but I don’t. (...) When reporters started to ask at about 50 if I would have a facelift, I used to say maybe after 70. Well, here I am and I still wouldn’t. I’d like to say it’s because I can’t imagine Georgia O’Keeffe or Eleanor Roosevelt or Rosa Parks with a facelift, but the truth is I’m afraid I’d become like the guy with a bad toupee; when you’re talking to him, you can’t think of anything else." (http://www.wowowow.com/politics/gloria-steinem-75-feminists-pro-choice-268505?page=0%2C0)
So what do we do? I don't have advice yet. Check back in, say, 40 years?
But I know that aging is difficult for women- the world we live in, particularly the show business world, favors youth. I have nothing against delaying wrinkles and trying to look like the best version of ourselves at any age. I already use eye cream, for example, and I know I don't need it. I like to take care of myself and I certainly do not judge women for pursuing youth, but I do think some women go too far. When I see an older woman with a frozen forehead and mouth, excessively artificially tanned, and filled with scars behind her ears and on her scalp from countless face-lifts, it makes me sad. It makes me sad that women go to such measures to look like they have won the battle against time- and thus won the battle against society's prejudice against older women. It makes me sad to know they haven't- the world looks at them and, for the most part, thinks them ridiculous.
I read a book on beauty the other day (while in my dermatologist's waiting room- go figure), where the author interviewed hundreds of women on beauty. They all seemed to agree that what made a woman beautiful was confidence. And I have always agreed- what made Sophia Loren seem so sexy to me was her confidence. When I see her now- stretched out and orange, barely able to speak- I want to scream. Or cry. Where did the confidence go? Does it seep out of these women as aging takes its toll? Was it really confidence that made them beautiful, or was it beauty (the beauty of youth) that gave them confidence?
I know, even as I write this, that I understand very little about it. I haven't watched the face I'm used to seeing in the mirror change into one I don't want to recognize. I don't know what it's like to find fragile white hairs amidst my mane of thick black hair. I can still look at my hands without them accusing me of having lived more years than I care to remember. These are all things I can imagine, but I do not know them yet. And, like most young women, I think I'll be different- I'll handle aging with grace, I'll wear my white hair long, I'll sneer at botox, I'll find the beauty of every wrinkle. And I really do hope I will- but who knows? I think Meryl Streep is aging gracefully, but maybe she doesn't think so at all. Maybe she wishes she had taken the hormones Cher took, even if just to fool herself, for a little while.
We can't know how each woman is really handling aging- it's such a personal thing. Even Gloria Steinem, mama of Feminism, shocked people when, on her 75th birthday, she was asked about aging and, instead of answering that she was above that, she said, "Now, I look in the mirror, I see all kinds of age changes, and I think, 'Well, I expected that, but not THAT!' Beginning at around 50, I started to realize that our bodies lose what they need to support someone else, and keep what they need to support us. How smart is that!? It’s interesting to watch my body do something that it knows how to do but I don’t. (...) When reporters started to ask at about 50 if I would have a facelift, I used to say maybe after 70. Well, here I am and I still wouldn’t. I’d like to say it’s because I can’t imagine Georgia O’Keeffe or Eleanor Roosevelt or Rosa Parks with a facelift, but the truth is I’m afraid I’d become like the guy with a bad toupee; when you’re talking to him, you can’t think of anything else." (http://www.wowowow.com/politics/gloria-steinem-75-feminists-pro-choice-268505?page=0%2C0)
So what do we do? I don't have advice yet. Check back in, say, 40 years?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

