Don't cry for me Argentina

 

This is how I like this house. All in silent, with everyone closed in their own private spaces and the rain that is slowly falling in the outside world. Here we are in this little tiny bubble in a giant universe. Facing ourselves through the mirror glass of one another.

I have felt for a while now that my time here has slowly come to an end. The strange part is that I just feel very calm thinking about it. It is just how it is. Life has its ways and my way is not here any more. It is like this thunder that is rumbling in the distance, you never know when the next lightning will cut the sky.

This Monday I finally decided that I was going to speak with my teacher, to tell her about my doubts and thoughts of leaving the school earlier than what I am supposed to. That day it was really hot, and I felt very strange, my stomage was not feeling very good so I skipped breakfast and just drank a lot of water before lunch. At the time I went for school it was really hot outside, it felt like I could not breath. And I felt very tired. I had been drinking a lot of water but my whole body just felt really bad. My first class was one of the classes I have started to hate. I don’t know why, but I think it is because I feel so much pressure in this class. To be good, better, and I never seem to be enough. The teacher always looks at me with this eyes that says, no Marina, this is not good enough. And I do really believe her. It’s like they have all of this high believes in me, that is not true. I am not even half way there. And it isn’t like I don’t try. I really do. But I just can’t make it up to their believes. And it just crushes me.

And in the same time, I try to convince myself, I do not even care about what they think. Because I don’t really care about being perfect. I don’t want to win any prices for my pointed toes, I do this because I thought I loved it. But I know you have to work hard to get where you want. And I want to do that, I can do that. Or lately, no. Lately, the most of my strength have gone to working through the day, smiling, thinking about my next step, trying not to cry, thinking, only one hour more, only this class to, than I can go home, just one more month. I do love this I do, don’t I. Always trying to think of all the positive things that I like and reallyreally will miss with this place.

And it do work, for a while, days sometimes, hours. And than it struck me again this lightning, right through my chest. Just a smell, the sun making patterns on the ground or the sound of a bird singing in a tree, which takes me back to that day or those weeks, when my dad died this summer.

I know that this pain that I feel will never go away where ever I might be. It has nothing to do with the place where you are in, its something inside, that has to come out. One way or another. And it hurts, so terrible much.

It is this kind of pain that you have to share to let it come out. To share and share and share and share until it is all over. Until there is nothing more to be seen of it.

And sometimes it is just easier to share this pain with someone that stand you closest.

I love you so much, all my beautiful friends here in Argentina. And I know that you would listen to me and you have been listening to me, a lot of times, and maybe it is just about me. That I have been too scared to share all of this with you, but you have to understand me too, it is hard to get close to another human being. That takes time.

And especially when you both speak different languages. I cant tell you how much I appreciate everything that you have given me. And I will never forget that. My house is your house where ever I am.

So this particularly Monday I was in class, but I didn’t feel good, and I just watched everybody working, and I knew I couldn’t continue, I felt the tears building up inside of me. And my stomage was moving like I was going to throw up. I decided to leave the class and when I told my teacher she took me outside. She asked me why I wanted to leave, if I was in any pain or sick in any other ways, and I told her the truth. That it was just emotionally, that I just couldn’t do it, I started to cry and she asked me how old I was, 24 I got out. And I felt all ready there how ridiculously it was standing there crying telling my teacher that I couldn’t do the class because I was homesick. Of course there is a lot of other things, it’s just to much things, that not even I know what it is, sometimes I just can’t hold on to my feelings, and I have just learned that when they come there isn’t much to do than to let them all come. But I couldn’t tell her that, not in Spanish at least, and she doesn’t speak any English. So I was standing there feeling even more embarrassed and small, for being such a child, 24 years old acting like a 5 year old. And she pointed it out to me, it’s your choice she said. You can leave when ever you want. You are a grown up. And she had right of course.

She told me to dry me tears and come back in to the class, because if I was there I could at least do the best of the situation and leave with a good grade at last.

When she left me, something broke inside of me and I couldn’t stop crying. Some of my friends in school came out to drink some water and found me crying, when they hold me, I started hyperventilate, and there and than I got my first panic attack. I have read a lot about this things before, and wasn’t really scared, I knew I wasn’t going to die, even if it felt like I couldn’t breath, I was grasping for air. Breathing faster and faster. I just couldn’t stop it. They took me out on the ground to lay me down and my hands started to cramp, they where like ice, hard as stone. And I wasn’t able to move them a bit. They tried to hold me, and helped me to breath slower and slower. I had to listen and focus really hard to be able to breath normally again. It took quit sometime. But my hands where still hard as stone, and when ever I looked them in the face I felt like crying again, because the hole situation also felt very embarrassing for me.

I am supposed to be so strong, I am 24 years old and I have always been taking care of myself. I have even been taking care of my own parents most of the time. And now I was lying here on the grass, feeling helpless as a child with my friends skipping class because of me. Because I just couldn’t keep my eyes shut. Because of this ridicules panic attack. And I felt so glad that they where there, and in away I didn’t want it to stop. Because in that state I just wasn’t able to hold myself. I just had to let it all go. I just couldn’t do anything else than fall into their arms. And in one way that did also feel very nice.

And also I hate this, I mean I hate that I am so vulnerable, and in the same time I value it. I hate it because, I have nothing to be sad about, really. I have a wealthy family in a country where you can get help from the state if you get in trouble (ok there is a lot of stories about people who doesn’t get that, but I know my family would help me if something bad would happened, and ok my dad is death and my mom has cancer, even if it is gone now… but still). There is so many people out there that has been trough so much more terrible things than I have, and they still go on, they are still working hard, they are still trying and keeping there face up, smiling and helping other people. In comparison with them I am really weak. And ridicules. Like a spoiled child asking the beggar for money for its new shoes.

I do really hate myself. And than when I think of that I start crying again. How egocentric isn’t that. Everything in my life has always been about me. Sometimes I wonder if the world just wouldn’t be better without me.

But the funny part is that I know that there is people that likes me. Even if I still haven’t figured out why.

And I know that all of this feelings is something that I have to work on in me. I I I I and I am the one, the only one that can change this thoughts in me.

I have been running from this, from this confrontation for a long time now. It started with anorexia, in wish I thought that if I controlled my food intake and managed to get a nice and skinny body I would at least look good and people would like me. Things would change. I would be happy. Of course it didn’t work. And one day when my brothers wife told me that she just couldn’t watch me do this to myself anymore, and one of my best friends told me that she didn’t think she would ever be able to live in the same house as me because she thought it was to hard to watch my disturbed food habits, I decided that there had to be some changes. And I didn’t want to die. There was, is, to many things in the world that I love, and want to explore. And I guess I know deep inside, that I am and can be a nice person.  

After this I explored many things, and as soon that I felt this confrontation of mine, coming closer and closer, I changed again for something new, that could keep my thoughts busy with all this other things. Sometimes I got really close, and sometimes, I hurt people really badly because of this, habit of mine, never get to close.

I am just really bad at relationships I told myself, I just want free love. I just want to feel free. And maybe that is true. In a way. But in the same time I also never really let anyone get close enough, I never let anyone in.

I am this funny person you now. Crazy. I love being a child. Running around, jumping where you are not supposed to jump, dancing in the rain, being all wet, and being ridicules. But that is a role that I have. I love the phrase that says that you should never let go of the child inside of you. And I have always thought that I was really good at that. Letting my child out. But now when I think of it I see, that it isn’t really true. Because to really be a child, you have to be able to let go. Let go of all of your emotions, to trust. And trust I don’t have. I am terribly afraid of letting go.

But I will learn. Someday I will. Little, by little.

im not an artist

so i just really just wanna have my own place. i wanna take my friends home and make them dinner. i wanna do this crazy nice dinner parties with too much wine and too much food. and i wanna live in sweden. close to my best friends.
why does 3 months have to be so stupid long time. its not that long time actually. but still it feels like forever. really like forever.

i wanna have my normal hair color back, im thinking of cutting it all off so that it will be coming back sooner. i could also just go and buy some "take away-the color in your hair"-stuff and that would do it for me. but i guess its just cheaper to just cut it off.

someone told me that i looked more happy one year ago, and thats probably true. a lot of stuff have happend this year, and im just not the same anymore.
i have changed.

so we change
thats pretty funny isnt it
that everything change.

i just love this i have so much energy and i feel so great
i have had this hole day just for myself, just all by myself and it was just great
and i just did what ever i felt for and i listened to swedish radio really loud
and cooked a lot of food and baked bread and danced in the kitchen
and i just feel that all of my creativity just crawls out of me its like
i just need this time for myself to get it all flow open
and its just not enough with a couple of hours on a day
i need like 3 days of nothing more than me and a house
or a room or what ever and nothing else
a roof and all of this air and my mind start working like crazy
and i see all of this crazy things that i could do and i know
that i can do them

i just need to get the energy and the kick in the butt
and i miss you all my best crazy lovely friends
stich , evelina , isabelle , terese  tineska
and all of you other people that i forgot to tell about

now im going to go to my awesome room and paint something nice before i go to bed
and i want stop before i really need to
and tomorrow im gonna paint my face
like really strange and walk around or go to san isidro
and maybe people will be really intersted and ask me questions
but i want be able to answer because i wont probably not understand what
they are saying but that doesnt matter

because nothing really matters
anymore
and actually i think i wanna be
a writer
and not a fucking circus artist
fuck circus


(ok i might i have gone out to hard there, because i do
like the circus too.. and it is pretty great i just do not really like
this fucking way of killing your body or that people theit seems
to think that if you dont train everyday and take everything reallyREALLY
seriously you are a freak or a hippie and cant be anything. or think that this
is the only thing in the whole world..)

BUT I CAN
i can be what the fuck i want to and i really dont care about what you think¨
or if my legs are straight or not
let them be curly and up tight
let them be all stupid
who cares
i dont

and for the second part
im not an artist

im Marina!

Chile, circus, friends, spring, birthday celebrations, house animals, home and me

If I only shaved my head...

english lower down

Normalitet.

Rätten att känna sig vacker att må bra i sig själv, i sin kropp. Den rätten är viktig och borde vara någonting som är tillägnat alla.
Det finns många som säger att inte älska personer av samma kön, att inte vara bekväm i sin kropp, att vilja vara någon annan är fel, är något sjukligt. Någonting som inte är
Normalt

Jag trivs med min kropp, för det mesta. Jag har inga problem med att bli namngiven som en kvinna, jag är stolt över att vara kvinna.
Men jag är inte stolt över den värld som vi lever i.
För det är inte varje dag jag trivs med att se ut och vara den jag är. Men det handlar inte om att jag inte är bekväm i min kropp, för jag älskar min kropp. Utan för hur andra bedömer den.
Bedömer den och ger den namn och uttryck, innebörder jag inte står för. Jag är kvinna, jag har en kvinnas kropp men jag vill inte bli behandlad på det sätt som kvinnor idag blir behandlade.
Jag vill inte bli behandlad som en kvinna! Jag vill inte få höra att jag är snygg på gatan, jag vill inte att folk tafsar på min kropp, jag vill inte bli sist uttagen för att bära tunga saker, jag vill inte bli sedd förbi när det kommer till komplicerade båt prylar så fort det finns en mera tillgänglig man i närheten.
Jag vill inte bli bedömd för hur jag går klädd.

Och ändå blir jag det.

Jag har alltid varit intresserad av konst. Men de senaste åren har jag börjat fundera på hur jag ska göra för att fortsätta med det jag gör men utan att bli utnyttjad på grund av mitt kön.
Att vara kvinna och konstnär betyder att du får extra inbjudningar till tillställningar, enbart på grund av ditt utseende och ditt kön. Allt för ofta finns där gömda intentioner. Jag vill göra konst, jag vill kunna använda min kropp för att jag vill och till saker som betyder någonting, jag vill att människor ska börja öppna ögonen för vad det egentligen är de ser.
En människa.
Inte ett kön.

Inte ett sexobjekt.

Jag är inte intresserad utav det.

Ofta funderar jag på om jag borde raka av mig håret, om människor skulle se på mig på ett annat sätt. Om det skulle ge mig en annan form av respekt. Eller om jag började sminka mig med jättemycket svart runt ögonen, och bära tuffa nitar och döskallar på kläderna, skulle det ge mig respekt?

Men det är ju inte jag?-


Eller vem är jag. ?

Är bara så trött på att vara den lilla söta.

Är trött på att bli bedömd efter mitt utseende.


Trött.



-------------------------------

Normality.

The right to feel beautiful feel good in themselves, in their body. The law is important and should be something that is dedicated to all.
There are many who say not to love people of the same sex, not to be comfortable in her body, wanting to be someone else is wrong, something is sickly. Something that is not
normal

I feel comfortable with my body, for the most part. I have no problem with being named as a woman, I am proud to be a woman.
But I'm not proud of the world in which we live.
For it is not every day that I feel comfortable with the look and be who I am. But it's not about that I'm not comfortable in my body, because I love my body. But for how others perceive it.
Assess it, and gives the names and expressions, meanings, I do not stand for. I am a woman, I have a woman's body but I do not want to be treated in the way that women are treated today.
I do not want to be treated like a woman! I do not want to hear that I'm attractive in the street, I do not want people paws on my body, I will not be the last outlets to carry heavy things, I do not want to be seen past when it comes to complicated boat gadgets as soon as it is a more accessible one nearby.
I do not want to be judged for how I go dressed.

And yet, I get it.

I have always been interested in art. But in recent years, I started thinking about how I should do to continue with what I am doing but without being exploited because of my gender.
Being a woman and an artist means you get extra invitations to events, simply because of your looks and your gender. All too often there are hidden intentions. I want to do art, I want to use my body because I want to and things that mean something, I want people to start opening their eyes to what it is they see.
A human.
Not a sex.

Not a sex object.

I'm not interested about it.

Often I wonder if I should shave off my hair, if people would look at me in a different way. If it would give me a different kind of respect. Or if I started to wear make up with a lot of black around the eyes, and wear tough studs and skulls on clothing, it would give me respect?

But that's not me? -


Or who I am. ?

Am just so tired of being the little cute.

Am tired of being judged by my appearance.


Tired.

A Lionheart

"Be strong Marina. Keep strong."
That is what everyone tells me. And have been telling me.
I am not sure that is what is the best.

People have also always told me
"You are so brave Marina!"
"You are so mature for your age"
"You are so free, such a free spirit!"

Why are you so free?

And I still can't answer this questions. I don't feel very brave. Or free. What now that means. But I would say that maybe the answer to why people think I am this brave. And maybe free.
I think that the answer to this is that I just look on things differently than other people might do. I am not brave, or at least not braver than anyone else.  And free, I don't even know what that means. I am free in the way that I am free to make my own chooses and that is what I am doing.
Maybe my chooses are in some peoples eyes brave, because I do things that common people in my age might not do. But my answer to that is that it isn't because I am brave, because I am just as scared, terrified sometimes, as anyone else. But I choose to look up on it in a different way. It is a must, it is just something I have to do, to rescover all of this things that I want to see.
And as Jonathan once said to "Skorpan" in the book "The Brothers Lionheart" written by Astrid Lindgren.
"If I do not do this I wont be anything more than a little filth"
And I guess that is what keeps me going, that and my stubbornness.


I do not know what is the best to do. Or what I really want.
Sometimes I just wish to be back in Sweden this instant. But in the same time, what would I do there? And as well.. it will be winter in Sweden soon. And God knows I have seen to much winter for awhile I do not wish to go through another one after doing two allready. Even if the winter in Argentina is lovely short and more like a long autumn in Sweden, has it been terrible cold, and I am so longing for the warm and sunny days and nights, the flowers and the green.

But soon soon comes the spring and thte warm sun and more happy days with this. I know and I Love and I See and Embrace.

Thank you Dad for letting me see and enjoy the beauty of the nature, to trust people for who they are. For trusting my instinct for what is right and what is wrong.
Thank you for being with me in my heart,


I miss you.

In the darkness the mysterium appears

Back on track !!

So I am here again after three strange but good weeks in Sweden I am back in Argentina. The first days was really terrible, because I suffered from really hard homesickness that I didnt thought would be possible.

My body felt like it was made of iron and I couldn't get the hand on anything. I just did not want to do anything. Just lie in the bed and sleep, cry and do nothing. I was just so tired and only the thought of going up in some trapece was just ridicoulus.

But after my first class since I came back here, in the silks wish I realized is what I actually really want to focus on in the circus practise, I don't care if it is really common or the thing that everyone use, I just love being up there, so who cares what other people think?

Aerial in general is what my heart goes fast for. And to combine this with performance art, with dance, and maybe theatrical elements are my dream.

That is What I want to do!

(and a bunch of other things of course, I am a multicoulored artist, but in the world we are living it is almost a most to make a living, hey?)

Well, so after my first class and some endorphins later, I started to see things in color again. And life didn't seem that miserable anymore. And this morning, I went out for a run, bought that adapter that makes me able to charge my computer again so that I can write this post, and watching some of the recent news on facebook I came across my aerial teacher in Ireland and she had put up a video on her website that really made my heart go faster and THAN I realized, why the hell the reason was that I came here!!

Because I love this, and I want to make art, I just want to practise as well. To get the strength and maybe some inspiration to make my own work. To find others that loves the same thing..
So here I am, in Argentina, far from everything, but still in peace and with love all around, doing my thing. What I want. With a purpose again. I just have to make it happen!!

Life is to short to wait for, just grab it and start living.

http://emilyaoibheann.com/