O Coelho da Botella

 

On my first assignment in Brazil almost four years ago, a considered coleague tried to explained to me in "portunhol" what a coelho da botella was.  After a long walk in Vitória’s beach in Espirito Santo, and quite among of laughs, I finally understood he was trying to translate what a "gargalo" (bottleneck) was.

Every time I think of bottlenecks and constrains, I can’t avoid remembering that story.  And lately, I’ve been dealing with constrains a lot, in personal and professional life. 

People often forget the first rule when discussing constrains: the constrain is either mental of physical.  

As an engineer and fully proved left hemisphere brain character, it is hard to believe I came to this conclusion so recently.  But it is true.  Good vibe does not cure cancer; maximum capacity in a machine often means the most amount of goods the unit can produce in a period of time; two objects can’t and won’t occupy the same space at the same time.  Yes, a good vibe with a loving environment and a positive attitude can increase someone’s immunological response to fight a disease.  Yes, a committed and integrated factory team can come up with great ideas to a better and more efficient production plan, dramatically increasing the total production throughput; but lets face it, a machine made for 100 cases/hour, will not produce more than 95 in the best case scenario.  10k square meters will not storage 15k square meters of merchandise, or will, if levitating is an option. 

It is frustrating how some people can’t see the difference.  That is why I think I don’t like shelf-help books. Is it honest when they tell you a 3 people team can do a 10 people job?  how many hours can a person work before one literally brakes down? Ok, not literally, but figuratively speaking:  family, health, social and even performance issues?

On the other hand, our mental constrains, I agree we can and should fight.  Must of them, and please do not take my word for granted on this since I am not an expert, probably come from bad experiences in the past, or ignorance of the outcomes and consequences of an action.  

Fears must be tackle, otherwise we won’t be able to move forward.  Challenge is always welcome, since it makes us re-think things and work around.  

I do fear changes; must humans do.  It is natural to want to stay put for at least a little while, to take a deep breath and recharge to start it all over again.  I do fear some tasks are bigger that I can handle.  Normal too; that is why procrastination was invented and has successfully survive all this years hahahahaha.

Mental constrains are there also in hour personal lives.  Lots of women, specially in Latin America, had face the High Heel Predicament once in their lives:  short cute guy vs. princess look in high heels.  When he e is the one with the mental constrain:  can’t and won’t date a higher women, so she is stuck with the little girl flats.  Or she is the one with the mental constrain: flats make her look chubby and she does not party with less than 8cm high shoes.  One way to see it:  date a taller guy! Or better way:  overcome the stupid mental block, wear the heels and lean a little to kiss him.  At the end, he won’t regret dating a hot confident taller girl.  But, keep in mind: he will not grow, no matter how hard you want and how focus you mediate on it. 

It is what it is.  Physical constrains are there and lots of them can’t be overcome with a simple state of mind.  It is stupid to keep walking barehanded into the wall and hit yourself in the face over and over again.  Buy a war tank, get a crew of handymen with heavy hammers, whatever! But stop pretending faith and will can brake all walls.  Physical barriers need strategies, resources, often team work, and so on.  Stand up for your self when someone tells you different.  There is a limited on what a person can give or do.  Make a strong smart plans to strangle the real bottlenecks, and while on them, focus on your own mental constrains and bit them, one day at the time.  It will make your life lighter, funnier and richer.  

 

My First Diamond

I was told that almost every woman’s first diamond was the one from their engagement ring. Some lucky ones get a 2.5 carat Tiffany’s Setting (the ring of rings). Others with a bad taste groom, will get a hideous 18k yellow gold pearl shape or emerald cut diamond ring.
In my case, my first diamond was not from a ring. It came in a card, a membership card. After many many many hours of flight, I am a proud Diamond at an airline reward program member.
Since I moved to Brazil, my job requires constant traveling and this year I decided to track it down. During 2012, I visited 24 cities in 15 countries, in 2 different continents. I was 139 days out of my home in São Paulo. I flew almost one hundred thousand miles (160 thousand Ks) in 195 hours of flight. Rounding it up, I spent little more than 8 consecutive days on the air. Now I wonder why I sometimes feel the need for solid ground.
At the beginning of this year, I focus on how to mirror my daily routine with all the traveling and that’s when running started. When one spends almost 40% of the year out of one’s home, all efforts to achieve a normal life will pay off: keep the healthy breakfast no matter what, run at least 3 times a week, sleep no less than 4 hours a day, have a drink with friends if possible once a week....
Naive as I was, it took me a lot to realize that although all these thinks really help my keep my life in track, I left out all the traveling experience from my ideal routine.
Traveling is a big part of my life. Every trip is almost the same: try on almost everything I will were (even take pictures or make a wardrobe list when the trip takes more than 5 days); be half and hour late for the taxi drive to the airport; keep up all night before the flight (either packing or parting, I never sleep); make all these plans to meet friends and boyfriends the week before as if I will never be back; running like crazy at the office having everything ready; getting nails done, perfect haircut, car washed, house clean, and so on and so on and so on.
I crave for the trip, I seize the hole experience, I survive during and I die to fly back. Always the same, and I love it.
No matter if work or leisure, my life IS the trip, and how do I choose to live in between each one. People say one must not be define by one’s job, but in my case, my job got me this way of living that certainly defines me.
My diamond might not be Tiffany’s but it is a big accomplishment, and I am very proud of it. It is worth the cold sweat in every turbulence, the slowest Internet connection at the wanna be VIP launch, the hours waiting at the airport, the never ending cab drive to Guarulhos airport, or the sleepless nights when flying coach. Every mile was flown and next year I go for the pilot wings ;)
I said it before and I will say it again: can’t wait to go on the next trip.
So, to my fellow travelers, I wish you all a 2013 full of unexpected upgrades, no charges for extra suitcase, very calm flight, cero line at the immigration check points, great deals at duty free, and many opportunities to meet friends and family in every trip. But must of all, I wish you big welcomes full of warm hugs and big kisses from your loved ones when you get back home.
Have an out of this world, up in the sky, floating in the clouds, incredibly happy new year! And don’t forget: the sky is our limit!!!!!

Why Not? or Lessons Learned

I learned a very valuable lesson this past few weeks: the difference between choosing to quit and giving up.
The end result is pretty much the same. One ends up ending a situation it was supposed to go on. And all the difference is on the feeling.
When you choose lo leave a country, a relationship, a job, a way of living..., even though is hard and painful, you feel powerful. There is an inner strength that drives you to move forward and stick to you decision, because it was your choice, because you finally became the master of your own life.
Giving up on the other hand, makes you feel powerless. Sometimes, even useless. It is like you succumbed to wrong voice inside your head, to your weaknesses and your ghosts.
They are both acts of rebellion. Against your self, the situation, other people’s expectations and feelings, whatever is between yourself and your peace of mind. Even against that voice telling you to be stronger than the pain, the anger, the doubts and the fear.
There is no right or wrong here. Sometimes life gives you no room to choose and the universe keeps making decisions for you. And sometimes you are just to tired to fight. You need that little amount of energy you have left to survive for the next day and giving up and letting go are the only reasonable thinks to do.
I think I just realized how mature one needs to be to know the difference. When weakness of character meets self protection, or when determination meets stubbornness.
I still make choices and decisions for the wrong reasons, and off course they don’t end up pretty well. I guess the next lesson, not to learn but always to remember, is to hear my heart a little more.
A friend told me today how he started to seize more of live when he decided to look at opportunities and tell himself "why not?". And he really got me thinking all day. The thing is, I always have reasons to do stuff: because I can, because it will help somebody or make them happy, because I would like someone to do it for me when I need it, because it sounds right... And I end up doing thinks that add absolutely no value to my life, just because. From now on I will ask my self "why not?". I really want to know when something is worth doing and safe my energy and time for the good things life has reserved for me. This time around, I will be paying close attention when the answer is "because it is not fulfilling; it doesn’t make me happy; is not what I want".
Probably a little too late in live to be aware of this, some might say, but I say better late than never. Some people don’t get chicken pox until their forty and their kids get it at kinder garden. Timing is overrated. The only right speed in life is your own pace, and I am certainly enjoying mine.

Promesas de Año Nuevo

Nunca hago esto porque me parece una vergüenza estar reevaluando la vida una única vez al año.  Primero porque uno se siente muy mal al reconocer -mentalmente o por escrito, no importa- que los últimos 365 días fueron completamente perdidos y uno sigue siendo el mismo bueno para nada del año inmediatamente anterior.  Lo que pasa este año es que el primero de enero pasado, una loquita en la sección de farándula de RCN, hizo la numerología para 40 millones de colombianos, los cuales logró acomodar en 9 patrones de comportamiento para el 2011.  En mi caso, que debe ser único e irrepetible para mí y para otros 4’444.444 colombianos (más o menos), éste es el año de la siembra eterna, ósea, lo que no hice en el 2011, mejor apague y vámonos porque de aquí en adelante ya no va más.

 

Ante semejante revelación, cualquiera entra en pánico.  Una cosa es creer que uno tiene todas las hojas del calendario sin estrenar y otra muy distinta tener ´solo 365 días (361 porque los 4 primeros los perdí entre los aguardientes del desayuno del domingo y el jet lag de volver a BR), para hacer todo lo que quiero hacer y ser en la vida.  Sumado a la paranoia general de que el mundo se acaba en el 2012, no me queda otra que aceptar la dura realidad y poner manos a la obra de una vez por todas.

 

Entonces, sin más preámbulos, aquí van mis promesas para este año, clasificadas como mejor se me ocurrió:

 

LAS QUE TODO EL MUNDO HACE:

1.  Comer más saludable.

2.  Hacer ejercicio.

3.  Ahorrar más (bueno, ahorrar algo! Así sea el agua de la ducha)

4.  Reciclar.

5.  Ir a misa todos los domingos.

 

LAS OBLIGATORIAS:

1.  Aprender a escribir en portugués.

2.  Aprender a parquear de frente.

3.  Tener la uñas pintadas siempre.

4.  Madrugar más.

5.  Limpiar el facebook más seguido y dejar solo los que son!

 

LAS QUE HAY QUE HACER POR PUROS PRINCIPIOS

1.  Conseguir parche para ir a todos los conciertos de rock que me de la gana.

2.  Aprovechar las mañanas de al menos 10 de los 52 domingos del año (ósea no rumbear ni beber al menos 10 de los 52 sábados del año)

3.  Aprender nuevos adjetivos calificativos, superlativos y atributivos diferentes a: la v#$&¨%**ga, del p%#@#!tas, una ch#$@$ba, etc.

4.  Hacer mínimo dos viajes de vacaciones al año a visitar amigos y familia.

5.  Actualizar el blog una vez por mes.

6.  Oír una banda nueva por semana.

7.  Ir a una fiesta de karaoke y cantar a todo pulmón! (pero no plancha ni mariachis, puro r&r)

 

LAS NICE TO HAVE:

1.  Terminar de terminar.

2.  Tener un gatico.

3.  Tener más amigos brasileros (obvio, sin perder los colombianos, venezolanos, canadienses, gringos, británicos, etc, que ya tengo)

4.  Conocer 2 nuevos países y/o 5 nuevas ciudades.

5.  Ser tía otra vez: por consanguinidad, política o nombramiento de un par de amigos bacanes.

6.  Tener el itunes al día.

7.  Acostarme (y dormirme) temprano.

 

LAS CLANDESTINAS:

1.       …

2.       …

3.       …

4.       …

5.       …

Sorry, reserva del sumario.  Esas las cuento en persona solamente ;)

 

LAS IMPOSIBLES:

1.  Aprender a tocar un instrumento que no sea la marimba ni la flauta dulce.

2.  Dejar de usar “la” BB a toda hora.

3.  Decir “el” BB.

4.  Tener sólo una personalidad.

5.  Contarle a todo el mundo los secretos de mi loquina y hacerle pistola al que no se lo banque.

6.  Perder la vergüenza y publicar las  promesas clandestinas que no aguantan para dar papaya en público.

 

A correr gente! Mándense a hacer la numerología urgente porque de pronto ustedes también están en la siembra eterna este año y solo les quedan 361 días para organizar la casa…………… Juemádre! 360 porque ya perdí otro haciendo este blog!!!!!!!!!

 

Busco trabajo

Soy una de esas personas increíblemente afortunadas que nunca han tenido que buscar trabajo.  Apareció una oportunidad antes de acabar la U, en una empresa que es una chimba y las cosas han ido surgiendo (no tan fácil o tan rápido como a mi me gustaría, pero no tengo nada de que quejarme y mucho que agradecer).  He pasado por varios puestos y todos han tenido cosas super bacanas.  Me encanta lo que hago y me parece un poco desvergonzado que me paguen por eso.  Me gusta y me da $ para viajar.  Lo máximo!

 

Aún así, busco trabajo.

 

Busco trabajo, pero no en el ámbito laboral.  Realmente, lo que busco es oficio (ojo! y no es por desocupada como ya me han dicho).  Antes la gente tenía un oficio, eso le daba de comer y para vestir a los chinos, y eran conocidos por eso.  El zapatero, el carnicero, el albañil, la costurera, el medico, la manicurista, el embolador,... en fin, el maestro Albarracín.

 

Yo podría decir que soy la ingeniera, pero no es que ande por la vida ingeniándome nada.  No saben en las que me veo para explicar a qué me dedico.  Hoy trabajo en un área de soporte (ahí ya va mal), que da soporte (hello! así es) tanto en el área técnica como de negocio (Jesús!) en los procesos de planeación (???).  La pregunta que viene después de eso es espantosa y avasalladora: "planeando que?".  Ni qué decir! ahí son otros 15 minutos de explicación.  Eso espanta a cualquiera! Hace meses que decidí decir que trabajo en logística (que no es verdad, pero ayuda).  Luego de esta conversación, el 30% de la gente piensa en una bodega con montacargas; el 50% en un cuarto lleno de computadores; un porcentaje un poco menor al 1% piensa en el Banco de la República (que nunca entendí por qué); y el 19 y poco restante solo piensa cuánto me pagarán por no hacer ni mier"$#&/$=()%#!.

 

En fin, busco oficio.  Y quiero mi oficio ideal! Ya fui bartender/disc jokey y debo decir que ha sido el segundo mejor trabajo del mundo.  El problema es que mi hígado no soportaría volver a esos tiempos (porque trabajando no se puede beber! y es ofendedor ver a todo el mundo bebiendo y uno mirando un chispero.  Mi hígado se opone rotundamente!)

 

Como ya decidí que no logro ser cantinera en la vida, les comparto mi verdadero sueño: oficio Productor.  Me muero de la ganas de ser productora de una banda de rock.

 

Mi amor por el rock comenzó a los 11 o 12 años con Christian G (Q.E.P.D.), que me llevaba a su casa en Paragüitas a oir los acetatos de los Beatles que sus papás habían traído de Alemania.  Fue amor a primera vista. 

 

Después de eso exploré cuanta opción posible había en la escuela de Amalia para aprender a tocar algo, lo que fuera! Flauta dulce, xilófono, marimba, batería... hasta pedí un saxofón que mi mamá muy inteligentemente no aceptó comprarme.  Todo para descubrir que era absolutamente negada para los instrumentos.  Pero lo que no tengo en talento, lo tengo en determinación! He sido una groupie consumada.  Iba cuanto ensayadero, bar de mala muerte, fiesta de cumpleaños, Jazz Note, Barbarela, etc, etc.  A Barbarie no me dejaba ir mi mamá, pero fui a todo lo demás que pude (acepto que una vez me volé para ir).    Amo los conciertos a reventar y estar de quintas frente al escenario, y no me quejo del tumulto ni la espera.

 

Como será que, ya grande, viviendo en Bogotá, me metí a clases de canto a ver si por lo menos por ahí era la cosa.  Obvio, no fue, y ahora vivo 24 horas al día enchufada al Ipod con un deseo reprimido enorme de cantar a todo pulmón.  Lo peor de todo es que no soy ni cinco desafinada, es solo que tengo una voz horrorosa.  Consigo identificar un riff, separar las voces y los instrumentos en las canciones, aprenderme las letras con unas pocas veces de oir la canción, sentir el bajo en la carótida, la batería en el hipotálamo, la guitarra en las caderas y las voces en ..........  En resumen, tengo habilidades y aprovecho el blog para ofrecer mis servicios.

 

Busco una banda de indie/progressive/punk insoportable que solo 15 gatos en el mundo oyen y solo 2 compran el CD.  No seré un Jay Z, así que no esperen de mi que los catapulte a la fama.  Pero les consigo ensayadero! y vemos si hacemos algo para el cumpleaños de un primo del carga cables.

 

Soy excelente en el manejo de conflictos musicales.  Si me aguanté varios novios de medio pelo sólo por estar cerca del underground del rock, puedo con cualquier estrellita wannabe.  Aclaro que no me quejo de los músicos (professional, amateur o tan solo críticos) que han pasado por mi vida.  No sólo porque conocí muchas bandas por referencia y me llevaron a muchos toques, sino porque salir con un músico es como revolver dramamine con litio y redbull.  Nunca he surfeado pero me imagino que es así: nadar y nadar y nadar y remar y remar y remar para coger unos segundos de ola que son un soye total! Entre la depresión inspiradora, la euforia creadora y el derroche existencial, la vida se pasa volando.  Uno se puede volver adicto a esas cosas!

 

Anyway, ya no quiero más ser un pendejo que hace fila para comprar boleta.  Quiero estar backstage oyendo a MI banda hacer un show frente a miles.... bueno, cientos... bueno, decenas.... bueno, manojo de espectadores.

 

Solo espero que como ya viene la navidad por fin este año se me cumpla mi sueño! y que no termine una banda, pero de asaltantes.

How to become Citizen of the World in not so few rules or less

If you like traveling, keep in mind the following list.

1.  Be a men.  Not mandatory but will make your life easier.  From bathroom facilities to PMS, going through the pill, it is always easier for the guys.
2.  Be thin. That would help the packing a lot. If you are used to travel with old clothes and throw them away in the middle of the trip, it would very easy to buy new ones if you can fit into almost anything.
3.  It’s ok to look ugly on vacations.  No summer love would ever be a long term relationship.  People feel free on vacations and the would do almost anyone, so don’t try so hard and don’t expect emails when you get back home.
4.  Have a lot of friends to crash at their houses.  And never stay more than 4 nights in the same house.

5.  Pick the relatives you visit wisely.  They might be to close to your parents.
6.  Don’t talk about your vacations too much.  When people ask how they went, they are only expecting a "great!" as an answer.  Maybe the longer you can do is: "amazing!!!!".
7.  Do not ask someone to take the same picture five times.  Accept you are ugly and your pictures are going to look ugly too.  Only the ones who really really really love you would look at them, and let’s face it, they don’t care the way you look.  There is a very small chance someone that is in to you would look at the pictures, but you significant other wanna be is going to find you attractive either way.
8.  Lower your standards in every sense of the word.
9.  Carry a first aid kit (include antiacid and something for the hungover)
10.  Shave your head (if possible) or find a easy haircut.
11.  For every 10 days outside, plan a day to do absolutely nothing. And stick to the plan.
12.  Human kind has destroyed gazillion monuments, churches, cities and towns.  Think of every little thing you will not be able to see ever (like the 7 wonders of the ancient world) every time you are in line for more than 30 minutes instead of chatting and drinking beers with your friends in a local pub.  
13.  Think twice before buying drugs in a foreign country.
14.  Learn to travel alone.  Do not plan your trips around friends and family plans.  Your only restrictions should be money, visas and health (yours or other’s).
15.  Include a nice expensive restaurant (if they let you in in those smelly ragged clothes) and a crazy night out until dawn.

16.  Search for rock concerts aligned with your trip.
17.  Blog once or twice before you go back or the daily work would eat you alive when you fly back.
18.  Have absolutely no ambition at work.  Do what ever you have to do to gain enough money for the next trip and forget about everything else.
19.  Do not have a pet.
20.  Give away your plants before you leave.
21.  Do not wear high heels.
22.  Weare earrings all the time (even at the beach)
23.  Do not think of the people who are not with you during the trip.  Enjoy the company you have there ’cause it would take a lot of time before you see them again.
24.  Try not to be too sensitive.  People hate when you cry in front of the Mona Lisa, the Sixteenth Chapel or the Cesar’s Place.  And if you can’t hold your tears, pretend you are yawning of sneezing.
25.  Never ever ever ever look back.

Bonus track: weare a cowboy hat and look hot in it.

Por qué odio desmaquillarme

Se acerca el verano en Brasil y con él el calor que imposibilita el sueño. Traducción: fuera cubrelecho, cobijas, mantas, etc, para dar cabida a un juego de sábanas nuevecito, de un blanco inmaculado.

En aras de proteger mis nuevas sábanas, hoy decidí desmaquillarme antes de dormir. Quiero aclarar que todos los productos que existen para eso me parecen un baño de gato (que en una persona es asqueroso, mientras que ver un gato bañarse es divino). Para mi, la ultimate solution, es agua y jabón.

Quienes han tenido el placer de dormir en mi casa, o han tenido la amabilidad de recibirme en alguno de mis tantos viajes, pensarán que "la desmaquillada" es una práctica muy normal en mi rutina diaria (cuando llegamos a la casa a una hora decente y con un nivel de alcohol en la sangre que permita controlar la motricidad fina, aclaro). Pero no es así, cuando estoy sola, son contadas las veces que me acuesto "cari-lavada". Todo porque le tengo pánico al plan.

No importa dónde me encuentre, Brasil, Colombia, casa, apto, hotel. Detesto la rutina de agachar la cabeza sobre el lavamanos y pasar varios minutos intentando quitar el jabón bajo el incómodo y pequeño chorro de agua. No hay una sola vez que haga este proceso estando sola y no pase por mi cabeza la idea de levantarme y ver a "alguien" parado detrás de mí, en el reflejo del espejo. La imagen varía: puede ser un fantasma, un asesino violador, un muerto, una bruja, etc. Es aterrador levantarme a mirar al espejo. Los segundos que estoy con la cara entre el lavamanos, se pasan imaginándome la sangre regándose, aclarada por el agua y el jabón aún sin limpiar.

A tal punto llega, que hay momentos en que casi siento un cosquilleo en las piernas como si quien estuviera trás de mi, y usara un pantalón muy muy viejo y lleno de tierra. Un calorcito detrás del cuello por la respiración exaltada de quien me va a degollar. Una paranoia que los más expertos compararían con una "perseguidora" de porro vencido, como viendo gremlins en una estación o creyendo que vamos todos a ser arrojados a las vías del tren.

Se preguntarán por qué esto no ocurre con la lavada de dientes. Lo que pasa es que he desarrollado una técnica con el labio inferior (útil en muchos otros tasks) que me permite escupir de lejos sin ensuciarme ni salpicar.

Después de imaginarme al viejito maloliente hoy, tenía que contarles esto. Sobretodo porque ya se acerca mi cumple y quiero que entiendan que los años de más que pueda reflejar mi ya no tan lozana tez, no se deben a la rumba, el trago, la viajadera y la trasnochadera. Juro que si no durmiera maquillada, parecería de 15.

What to Expect When You Are Expecting

Future and actual Mommys and Daddys are going to have to forgive me, but I find this book pretentious and selfish.  Since when "expecting" became exclusive for pregnant women? I expect a looooooot. I am mostly expecting all the time.  How come there are no books for my kind of expectation?

 

If you look for "Expect" in the dictionary, you will get:   

 

1. To look for (mentally); to look forward to, as to something that is believed to be about to happen or come; to have a previous apprehension of, whether of good or evil; to look for with some confidence; to anticipate; -- often followed by an infinitive, sometimes by a clause (with, or without, that); as I expect to receive wages; I expect that the troops will be defeated.

2.  to consider obligatory or required;

3.  to consider reasonably due;

4.  (obsolete) To wait for; to await.

 But if you search for it in google, you might end up suscribing to site that helps you track you’re baby’s growth!!! I have absolutely nothing against pregnancy, on the contrary, I find it one of the most beautiful things in the world.  I, in fact, envy pregnant women, because, according to this book, they are allowed to feel the anxiety of "expecting", and everyone around has to understand it a deal with it.

What about the rest of us???? Don’t we "expect" anything in life? and, for what it’s worse, aren’t we allow to feel the anxiety too? gggrrrrrr!

I would like to have a weekly calendar on what to expect when expecting other things in life.  For example: 

* Confirmation after a job interview:  Week 6 Your inmune and digestive system funtions are becoming inhibited.  Get up from the phone and stop waiting for Human Resourses to call (they probably hired someone else). It is time to try to get an other interview.

* Hot guy to call back:  Week 2 Now you past form the increasing sweating from last week, to chest pain an the nausea.   Hang in there!!! DO NOT drink and dial.  He is probably on a working trip in Uganda.

* Vacations to start:  Week 50 You are just 2 weeks away from your dream vacation in Bahamas.  Although is not unsual for the working period to overdue, you reach the deadline to unbooked the cruise without paying a penalty worth one year salary.  Get over those heart palpitations and shortness of breath, and go talk to your boss!!!! YOU REALY NEED THIS TRIP.

* News from your boyfriend while away on a business trip:  Week 1 Already having concerns? He told you that roaming will cost a fortune and there is no internet in Rio de Janeiro.  Get zen and try to calm that sense of dread and panic.  The tall, blonde and beautiful women you saw in facebook are just a bunch of girls from work.  It is very commun in Brazil to have important meetings at the beach wearing bikins and drinking beer.

Those who had experienced the anxiety of expecting, know exactly what I am talking about.  Sometimes the results are greater that you ever expected, and the stress and headaches and the pale skin and blood pressure and the trembling and many others, are totally worth it.   But other times (I starting to feel this is usual thing) what you see at the end of the road is such a disappointment, that you can’t believe that you were two panic attacks away to be admited in a mental institution.

Just like what happened to me today.  I had being expecting news form a collaborator on book I am trying to write.  I wrote requesting specif data and gave a very detailed list of demands including references to cities and places, a range of music allowed to be use as influence in the book, and frecuency for the updates.  It seems like I was expecting a too much! The initial excitment became stress, and suddenly the stress became anxiety, and finally the anxiety became anger.  And after 20 days I got a lame excuse and a lousy picture.

So, here is my advise for those "expecting":  there is no week calendar on the internet, no support group in a dark alley, no proven formula to be calm.  You are alone in this! and there is no way you are going to let the "expectation" eat you alive.  Work hard, be focus, get zen and hope for the best.  But do not waste your life waiting by the phone.  Invite your new friends to your house for a few aguardientes on the weekend, and you’ll see the world finding it’s way to give you what you deserve.

Good luck!