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sunday lazyday

by M

i woke up at 12am after a long, sleepless night and made myself brunch. vowed to stay in and do nothing all day. i didn't get out of my pajamas and spent the day at my desk watching videos and series, writing and reading, and lying on the floor listening to music, meditating. i spent the past 11 hours in the same 10sqm and somehow that didn't bother me one second. 

i'm in a good mood.

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by M

I sat down at my desk just a little over a year ago trying to write my personal statement. The first sentence is the most important, was the main advice I'd gathered from my extensive research. I am known for sucking at introductions, so a few attempts later with a bit of frustration I stopped to think about it. I said to myself: stop trying to impress them, just be honest and authentic. These were my first few sentences:


On August 6th 2015, a Facebook post raised 150.000£ and filled four warehouses with item donations almost overnight. That post changed thousands of lives at the Calais Refugee Camp. I stumbled upon this information earlier this year, when my worry about the ongoing refugee crises spiked. From that moment on, I realized how much of a powerful tool the media are in social awareness, and ultimately social change.


And just like that I had a catchy first sentence and an engaging introduction, because I was writing from my heart. It was no news for anyone when I chose media, but it might've been a little bit of news for myself. Because suddenly I had a reason, a purpose that was pulling me this way. And then I put on my tough coat and my resilience boots and packed my bags and came to London. But it's been almost a year and a very hectic one for sure. I've told you how it felt after all these years dreaming and hoping to be here, finally being able to take a deep breathe (although still panting), and you find youself asking now what? Eventually you've settled down and got used to it and somehow you feel a bit lost because you're not quite sure where to turn to.


When I saw Jack's post on instagram I reminded myself this is what it's like to be living in London - where things happen, where everything happens. It's about swaying on swingsets with Jane at Tate Modern, watching the sun set over the skyscrapers at Primrose Hill, walking around Camden Market with Katya, eating chips in Covent Garden with Vendy and somedays it's about doing it all by yourself. Like booking tickets to this exhibition, and it just so happens to be a photography (which I love) exhibition about the refugee crisis (which I'm so passionate about) by Jack Harries (one of the people who has inspired me the most growing up and that continues to inspire me everyday). 


So the whole day I was wondering about it, like a song playing at an annoying volume in the back of my mind. I kept asking myself what will you say when really what is there not to be said? What words to prioritise? And so I went and there were butterflies in my stomach the whole time. But then I saw those photos and I instantly felt the way it always makes me feel: a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes, and I just want to YELL at the world and PUNCH it in the face. Shake the West by the shoulders and scream THERE IS ALL THIS BLOOD IN YOUR HANDS WHEN WILL YOU NOTICE. But really you just stand there in awe. Looking at these pictures of these people that are people just like us and whom are paying the price of crimes they not only didn't commit, but were victim to. Hoping no one will notice your watery eyes and the shake in your hands. And you feel useless. And then it occurred to me that they must've felt it too. Alice and Jack spent months collecting these pictures from various spots across Europe, witnessing the suffering and despair first hand. Just then I knew what to say. I asked how do I take all this ANGER and RAGE and put into something effective and how to I find a way to make that voice be heard. And Jack told me (cannot believe my own words) that I need to let that passion take me to the places so that I can see and speak up and that the world is at the tip of my fingers with social media if only we have the guts. That I don't need anyone else but me to just go and start. Just like it only took Jaz one day trip to Calais and one Facebook post to change and save lives in the Jungle refugee camp. At this point I was ready to leave the building and sit on a bench crying because what is life and then I literally run into Jaz walking in and I was like WHAT IT IS LIFE HONESTLY.


Everything came full circle today. Like, 4 years ago I was trapped in a town that I hated, with dreams too big to be fulfiled there. 2 years ago I was utterly lost and had no idea what to do with my life. And now I'm here, following those dreams in a city that opens doors instead of shutting them, carving my own path in a direction that is still somewhat unknown but is definitely heading somewhere. I am here for all of these reasons: the kid who watched JacksGap on school breaks with friends, the kid who played with MovieMaker when she was bored, the kid who asked for a DSLR on her 15th birthday, the kid who decided to do media for social change. All of these brought me here. I brought me here. And if I keep listening to that kid, who knows where it'll take me.


I am so grateful.

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2am thoughts

by M

i spent my whole entire albeit short life chasing after something. now i'm standing still, panting, and it feels like i'm holding the most precious thing on earth in my shaky hands. what if i lose it, or if it falls or if it breaks.


sometimes it's too much pressure to handle.

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  • did some reading on the college green with jane. the sun 🌞 was setting and casting a lazy light 🌇 on the man building and in ourselves. it was so very quiet apart from the trees rustling 🍃 in the background. i finished my reading 📖  and just lied on the grass 🌱🌾 soaking up the last bits of day light.

  • on another less poetic note, my ikea orders fINALLY came in! it felt like christmas 🎄, i swear. it was a big ass box 📦 and when i got to my block will was standing outside waiting for a friend and offered to carry it for me upstairs 🙌🏼👌🏼. when i got to my room i put on some music 🎶 like the neighbourhood, my chem and muse (!!! it's been YEARS 👵🏼).

  • i'm probably way too hyped up for a sunday evening 🤔.

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the future is now

by M

every once in a while i pop over onto my old blog, choose a month or a year, and go through what I wrote at the time. i don't think back then i realized how precious it was that i was documenting such a long period of my life, especially one that involved so much changing and growing. i'm so glad that i did. in a lot of ways my writing has improved and somehow matured. i used to blog as if it were a journal; and to a certain extent i still do, but now it's more like sporadic wordvomit on things that i can't get out of my mind, or rambles, or something that i know i'll want to remember in the future.


anyway, today i was reading some stuff from 2013 which in hindsight was kind of a turning point in my life. nineth grade was so much fun, an explosive cocktail of hormones and childishness with sprinkles of friendship on top. and dreams, god knows i had dreams bursting through my seams and i truly felt like anything was possible. i was invincible somehow. and then high school came, and with it self doubt and disappointment and a lack of motivation that weighed about 70 tons and that stupid town sucking the soul right out of me. high school was shit and all i wanted was to get away and see the world, volunteer in costa rica, do a spiritual retreat in south-eastern asia, move to lisbon, runaway. but then it didn't happen and i went straight into uni, half-heartedly, angry and not knowing what to expect. when i settled down i came in here and formally apologised to my 14 year-old self and moved on.


i learned a big lesson on how no matter how much you plan (and god knows i love me some planning) things don't always turn out the way you want or expected them to, but that's okay. that doesn't mean you have to give up. you just carve your way through this new direction you're headed and you might actually find that you like the trail and the views and the people who show up in the way. i loved lisbon already, but living there grew on my like wild flowers on the sidewalk. it feels like home in a way that my town never will. it was an avid love affair, lisbon and me. like flirting with life, saying 'i could stay and love you but i kinda want to go now'. 


i guess bottom line is: a year later, i have nothing to be sorry about. the 14 year-old in me is thrilled and frolicking through life with a spring in her step. i took shortcuts and rocky roads to get here, but i did. i spent the last 4 years dreaming of this and now that i'm here i feel a bit like this gif:


because this was the ultimate goal, the whole time. a pipe dream, i guess. but now i'm here and for the first time i have no other plans other than living every day as it comes. i have lost my ability to make long-term plans, somehow. people insist on asking what do i want to do after i graduate. first of all, i have been here for 3 freaking weEKS like what the fuck. please chill. second of all, i have no idea and there's something incredibly liberating about it. because it's not like i'm lost and confused, rather i see a world of options and opportunities unraveling and for now sorry but i can't pick one thing out of the million possibilities. simultaneously, i haven't felt this inspired in a very long time. every day i get to my room and all i want is to write and paint and draw. as i said, high school was shit and in a way uni last year, although incomparably better, was still pretty dull. i am SO DONE labelling myself; i won't ever let anyone else put me in a box and say 'this is where you belong now'. the box is always too small and uncomfortable and some corners stink. yeah, a part of me might fit the box, but i'm so much more beyond that. i belong in a million more boxes, or rather in no box at all. and honestly i don't give a fuck about your expectations.

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on moving abroad

by M

This post is long due; even though I don't like to postpone words the past few weeks were hectic af and when I eventually had spare time and headspace to write I didn't even know where to start.


I wish I had captured the last days at home when the memories and feelings were still boiling inside me. It was an interesting experience in so many ways. I spent so long overthinking it, but the truth is nothing could've prepared me. 


No one is ever truly prepared to pack bags at 18 and move miles through land and ocean to a completely different culture, in a completely different country and a completely different language. No one can possibly be prepared to what it feels like to have the world and life as you have always known it be shifting under your feet and sweeping you along with it. That's exactly what it felt like. I have been battling with metaphors for a while now, trying to put into words what this whole situation feels like when you are in it, living it, being it. But when I said goodbye to my grandparents on a casually sunny afternoon, or when I dropped off Q at her place at midnight and we pretended we'd see each other in a couple of days, or when I saw my sister leave on the train, or when I trotted through the woods with Pucci knowing I wouldn't be riding him again, or when I stood on the airport as my brain set off all the survival alarms, or when I hugged Rachel for dear life and cried on her shoulder like we used to, or when I sat on my bed in Lisbon for one last time reading the notes my friends wrote me - that's how it felt like. Like the world is moving around you casually but with reckless abandon, pulling you in a million directions at once when really you are just standing very still and holding on for dear life.


And then you leap.


Parents leave and you cry a little as you put up your photos and notes. But you settle in and get comfortable as violently as you left. The room is your room from the very moment you opened the door and soon enough the barista at the café next door knows your face. In just a couple of days you go out for dinner and drinks with probable future friends. You get comfortable around your roomates because we're all in our pijamas anyway. You catch tubes and trains and buses at 10, at 4 or at 3am although you have no idea where you are. But you also stay in and play music and sing along. You cook dinner too late and doodle on your journal. You watch films and series and youtube videos long after the party downstairs is over. You walk to the supermarket on a chilly morning, you pick up mail, you do your laundry. Nothing can prepare you for the jump, but by the time your feet are steady on the ground again it's like every cell in your body knew all along this would happen--that you would be living in London from September 24th 2017 onwards to unfold an entire brand new chapter of your life.


It's funny how it doesn't feel lonely for a second because no one has anyone to fall back to but each other. We're all on the same boat. If I didn't text Jane on the second day and asked her if she wanted to do something together, she would've probably stayed in her room all day. If Linda hadn't invited me to the Italian aperitivo, I wouldn't have met Michelle. If I hadn't met Michelle, she wouldn't have gone to the Balenciaga exhibition because she didn't have company. If I hadn't picked up Vendy from the station I wouldn't have had someone to talk to between classes yesterday. We're all just trying to figure out this limbo of both adulting and teenaging, between dirty dishes and lectures and bills and parties. 


The weirdest part is probably realising that your old life is still happening elsewhere , only you're not in it. Even though we had so much fun doing touristy things in London in the weekend, it was strange calling mom on Saturday knowing she was probably getting her nails done or grocery shopping. Or calling grandma and imagining her sitting on her couch by the TV while grandpa is on the computer. Seeing my friends in Lisbon having drinks at the park after class. 


But in the end of the day as I turn off the lights and close my eyes, with the restless sounds of the city whispering through my window, I feel at peace. It was so hard for a while, making this decision and sticking to it, but I'm so glad I did. I have learned so much more in this past year than I have in the rest of my life combined. I sat in my first class yesterday morning and I felt so proud. Because for the first time in my life there's no place I'd rather be - I found what I want to be doing with my life and I'm finally doing it, on my own terms.


Sure I have lost some things on the way here. But I found myself and somehow, that was... everything.

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Deciding is choosing and choosing means always losing something in favor of something else.

Said my first philopshy teacher, back in fall/winter 2013. I was already in love with the subject at that point and this was just one of those things that stuck with me. I knew when I heard it that I would hold onto those words many times throughout life. This is one of those times.


I didn't decide going to London on a whim, rather I did it step by step. First when I went to that 'study in the uk' fair back in senior year. Then through researching thouroughly every possible degree and university. When I booked a meeting and convinced my mom to come with me. When I sent my final application at the beginning of uni. In a hazy november morning in which I promptly answered "yes" when asked if my place at Goldsmiths should be firmed. In a way, even way before that when in nineth grade I decided I wanted to a gap year; although not quite the same thing, it was still a plan to leave.


I was asked on studyblr why I was planning to move to London rather than finishing my degree here. After a moment of pondering I answered (and realized then) "I always wanted to study abroad". And to be honest that's the truth, for years now that's been on my mind. When I finally got accepted it was like a piece falling into place. I truly feel like a lot of things have led to this (no, it wasn't coincidence). All of this is to say that I want to go like I've never wanted anything my life! It was a pipe dream for so long and now it really is a dream come true; some times I feel like might have to pinch myself 'is this real life?'. I realize this is going to change my life forever in every single aspect of it, but at the same time I know it's all meant to be and things will all turnout well in the end, no matter what.


However, I feel like people think I'm doing this light-heartedly. Like I'm just casually leaving life and everything I've ever known behind, effortlessly. Do not be fooled my friend, because for every inch of me that is hysterical about going, another one is aching about leaving. These are two different things in my mind - going and leaving. They co-exist peacefully in some sort of simbiose because that's just the way things are: you choose and you inherently leave something behind. This text is in honour of all the things that I know damn well I'm leaving by going.


People. I have wrote and rewrote about my awareness of how for the most part things don't last forever. And how that's okay. I know that by leaving I'm going to lose touch with old friends and newer ones. I knew all along this year that I was giving up on the people that I met and have grown to love in Lisbon. I know some people won't be able to keep up with me miles away, the same way I won't be able to keep up with them. And as much as it is okay (it really is, I promise), it's still hurts a little. Hurts to know my parents are growing older too and that I will be witnessing that from afar. And so are my grandparents which are well beyond their own life expectancy. And my sister who is steadily but surely becoming an adult. Little things like birthdays and dinner parties that I'll miss and won't ever get back. Having lunch with mom on an uni break or dinner with dad when it's just the two of us. These things that I love so much and could never take for granted. Hurts to know that it has been my own personal choice for my own personal future and life to put friendships and people on hold. I'm not a fool to expect everyone and everything will be the same when I get back. But there's beauty in that too. In the people who are able to say I'll be here on the sidelines while follow your dreams.


Last but definitely not least - no one can possibly understand how much it hurts to have willingly decided to stop riding. Everyone who meets me from now on won't know me as the horse girl. Every time I'm on the saddle these days feels like a precious little gift from God Himself. And it terrifies me knowing that as soon as I hop on that plane on september 17th, I won't know when I'll be riding again. The only thing giving me solace is that I refuse to believe this is it, the end, but rather a hiatus. I know whithin me I'll never stop being the crazy horse girl, even if people won't see me that way anymore. I'm just putting that label to rest for a while in order to give space and time to other sides of me to bloom. 


You could ask me whether the cons outweight the pros, but here's what I know. I will make new friends, even if they don't replace the lost ones. I will call and facetime and show up on my parent's doorstep unnannounced. I will be home for the summer writing long posts and listening to Taylor Swift on warm attic nights. We'll still hop on planes to see and discover the world together. I will have stories to tell and to hear about with my friends who stay. And eventually, I will find my way back to where I belong: at the barn.

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I remember being a silly 13 year old sleeping over at my grandparents' when I had a fallout with one of my best friends. My sister and I stayed up talking in the dark, like girls do. I was so frustrated and I remember she told me that nothing last forever. I was so angry then, at the world for being so mean and at her, because deep down I knew she was right. But I refused to settle for that and thought maybe I could one day prove her wrong.


Fast forward a few years later to the beginning of high school. I had lost touch with that friend and on my way to lose touch with some others (not to spoil it for you, that's what happens). Clinging onto friendships that were void and running after people who clearly didn't want to be run after. And then it hit me; one day I woke up and I realized I had conformed after all. I had learn the hard way that, in fact, nothing lasts forever. Especially not people. They come and go from your life like tides, ironically, pulled by the moon. 


By this time I had fully developped a slight obsession with the moon. Other than an inexplicable fascination that had always (and still does) drawn me into it, it was this sense of belief that when everything comes and goes, the moon stays. Even when you can't see it, you know it's there, as cliché as it sounds. And that brought me a new found hope that maybe, one day, I might find something that stayed too, eventually. 


I've spent these past few years making peace with the idea that everything is ephemeral and, furthermore, that that's okay. That the things which come into your life are brought with God's purpose, a lesson to learn, to make you wiser and, often, kinder. And that when the time comes it's okay to let them go and be grateful that they were ever in your life in the first place. But somewhere in the process of letting go I lost the ability to let in. Nobody ever tells you that--they remind you how important what it is to let go, but they don't teach you how to ever let people and opportunity in again. How to welcome it with a smile and say I'm happy you're here now, no matter how long you stay. So I closed myself up, built myself a shell and kept things out. People especially. 


I have talked about it before, how my life these past few of months feels like the closing of a chapter, a season finale if you will. Hell, this past year since high school ended and even more so now that I am moving away for real. I'm trying my best to not let change and the fear of the unknown petrify me. I'm letting it sweep me off my feet one step of a time and trying to hold on through this ride, take the best from it, learn and grow. And it's been bittersweet, but undoubtedly sweeter than bitter. Something I've been doing is paying attention to all of those little things we take for granted in everyday life but that now, I see, are ephemeral, too, in their own way. Quality time with the family, for instance, staying a little longer at the barn, trying harder not to postpone dinners with friends. I made a list of things that make home home. I wrote about coming back here and my nights up in the attic, lying on the floor, writing. Just like today, like right now. It's 4:00am and it feels like the whole town is asleep a part from myself, tucked away in this little safe haven, a tad bit closer to the sky (to the moon). It's been a time of introspection and retrospection. A whirlwind of emotions and thoughts that have been haunting me for the past months and which I fail to put into words, like they're in a different language somehow. 


Truth is something has felt different for a while now. I feel like the move to Lisbon shook my world just enough to put things into a different perspective. And when they finally settled into place, there was a new order, yet I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Everything changed in my daily life and with that something finally changed within me, too, and suddenly I feel like I figured it out. I was just lying here on the carpet, staring at the ceiling and I had this sudden urge to listen to Mine. I put it on and it was like the sound of pieces falling into place. 


It's that I found that somethings are not ephemeral, after all. That sitting here crying listening to Taylor Swift doesn't feel all that different from what it did back in 2010. That I'm still the same girl with a passion for words and an urge to write them down and dreams that could never be contained within the sum of my parts. That it's been a while but I still feel the same. That, perhaps most surprisingly, some people are gone indeed, but most have stayed. That like Mags said time passes and, sometimes, things just don't change. Things like Speak Now playing in the background or this goddamned attic that's been the stage for my late night mental breakdowns through the years, or the nights talking with my sister in the dark.


And yes, this things will too come to an end, one day. Maybe we'll sell the house. Maybe C and I won't share bedrooms anymore. Maybe I'll grow out of Taylor Swift, although I highly doubt it. Maybe these friends will become acquaintances at some point. But for once, that's okay. Because while they last, no matter how long or how little, they are infinite in their nature. Some kind of energy that cannot be destroyed and therefore cannot end, but only renewed. Recycled in that I will carry a part of all these things and moments and people with me throughout the rest of my life, for they have shaped me and will continue to do so.



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weekend snippets

by M

i have an above-average ability to be myself & i think that weekend really proved it it.


on friday i stayed home until sunset and then went to the supermarket to buy ingredients for soup. then i made soup and watched a film after dinner.


on saturday i had breakfast and lunch at one of my favorite cafés, tartine, and also finished most of my notes for uni. i shopped for awhile before coming back home, just before the city went bananas with the football finals. i made myself a chocolate mugcake and stayed up late watching the eurovision results, making the video and overall falling for amar pelos dois, which i didn't expect to. it never felt lonely because i was texting my sister, whatsapping with Lara and Q and speaking to London people on facebook.


sunday saw a late start and a lot of lazying. i spent too much time on whatsapp gossiping and eventually had to go to leave the house if i wanted to get any work done. i went to fábrica, which is also one of my favorite cafés in town and i knew it doesn't have wifi which helped through 7 pages of the worst text ever. it got so boring i felt compelled to order carrot cake and then walked back home. 


and eventually mariana got home and the weekend was over. here are some snippets:



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by M

you know that feeling when you're about to jump into the pool because the water is just a bit too cold for you to walk in through the stairs and so you just stand there, at the edge of the pool, you countdown a million times but you just can't bring yourself to leap and it's like your stomach turns into a balloon each time you say 3

that's what life feels like right now.

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