Taking Myself Over

So many things can happen in such a short amount of time. I think it was only yesterday, or maybe the day b4 that I left you with my last blog but it feels like a century ago. What day is it? I cant recall in either english or portuguese. I am able to express myself a little better=beyond yes i like and no i dont like, sarcasm, disdain and even inside jokes. Im glad I can express some subtleties. This blog is called Taking Myself Over because Brazil has been perfect at forcing me to come face to face with my main issue, my number one problem which is not taking the bull by the horns, letting life sweep me up like a wave and letting circumstance define me. Brazil is that place and Brazilians are those people that you can easily drown in. I am daily stimulated and distracted by their charm, the novelty of their day to day makes me forget from time to time the things I want to do. So quickly everything can become a blur, but I am begining to understand that it is this difference, the difference between taking life or letting life take you, that is the difference between content and happiness. If you know me at all you are aware that it is very difficult for me to be unhappy in a place, but I am learning now that if I am to get what I want out of these three months, these short ass three months, I am going to have to take that.

So you will find a montage of photos of a school my family took me to today-I was not entirely sure where we were going, I misunderstood and thought we were going to a samba party. Instead it was my little sisters(Nicoli really Gabys neice but shes like a sis to me) school where a youth samba group was coming to play the drums for the kids. Charming as it was, it was not exactly what I wanted to do.

The pics are adorable as are the kids celebrating carnival early. What you wont see are the pictures I didnt take when I left the house after we got back. Frustrated with my homestay sister who went off when I didnt understand what she was saying...I left to do what I had wanted to do since i got there...eat some crabs. I went to the best crab restaurant and the dude sat me at table 42. You the know the significance of this number for me. I ordered crab and beer(skol which is the best they have) and read some 20,000 leagues under the sea. Great book. Turns out my waiter lived in Boston 9 years and spoke fluid english, that was a relief. I indulged...I ordered some mocaco(sp?) the staple here, a shrimp stew and another beer and felt happy and full. Then I walked along the beach for an hour and bought u guys some gifts, also what I had wanted to do for a little while. I didnt have to go far til I walked smack in the middle of a samba street party, drums blasting people dancing in bikinis and sungas(male speedo but even shorter) crazy head pieces, beer, popcorn, rotisserie chicken and a booming gay and lesbian presence and of course tons of onlookers. Man I shoulda been born in this place. Wait till I learn how to samba....