Letter to my brother

acabei de achar um email que mandei p/ o meu irmão no dia 24 de outubro de 1996 - 2 anos antes de voltar p/ o Brasil, mas já preocupadíssima com as minhas opções por aqui. Acabei ficando lá, trabalhei em 1997 e 1998 (em rádio e TV) e voltei...tô passada com essa carta.


Dear Brother,

I'm sorry to bother you with such a long letter. I must confess that I ramble a lot and promise not being redundant again. I must tell you my plans now. I do not intend to go back to live a wandering, underproductive, pitiful little life. Although I do know that there may be new job opportunities, I doubt they would suit me. I'm just convinced that the system does not work fairly and will do whatever it takes to downplay my abilities until I am totally sucked up and hopelessly stuck inside a maze of big lies. The reason: I just found out that the most obnoxious, incompetent, stupid, dumb, idiotic person got a high level job at that place we talked about the perfect company for me to work for. The reason? Her aesthetic qualities. I go as far to say that she got the job because of the pubic interest as opposed to the public. So why am I going to subject myself to such a hurdle? Why am I going to let my very substantial self line up in that line of mockery? I cannot bear witnessing this person's claim to fame while corrupting my soul. A soul starving for greatness cannot fall in the trap called mediocrity. I am not demanding more than I deserve. I am just thoughtfully fearing misplacement. I am already feeling the pain of abandonment, the pain of involuntarily pounding a heart in hell. See, I must care for myself. I must let my soul experience joy before it experiences sorrow. I must let my first serious working experience be the call. It is all over me. Compellingly framing my mind. And as I say, I will pursue my call. I will go after my piece of heaven, relentlessly, until I am either consumed by it or by the so-common reality, the mother of all unhappiness.
Lawfully I am entitled to a full 365 days, like a try-out to freedom. Those days will be lived and not spent. Those days will set the alarm clock. Those days are coming and I cannot wait. Please tell me what you think? Miss you.

Love,

Priscila