This blog has been sitting down and has been grounded for too long. So I have decided to make a bucket list of the things I have already done in my life and leave some room for what´s the next. It´s about time that I would have it a go and do a makeover, to lift up the spirits and fly high. So here I am posting again and with a new look. Going back is good but it´s way better to move forward. Looking forward to what I´ve been preparing. Anyway, here are some of the items already checked from my list:
The Twelve Apostles from my trip to Australia, if you notice the image in the header of this blog you will see that there were still the initial nineth rock formation (BTW one of the most beautiful of them all).
Uma foto publicada por Ana Claudia Antunes (@anabowlova) em
Those are rocks, or a collection of limestone stacks distributed in a magnificent way around the shore with an incredible viewpoint from the Great Ocean Road. I took plenty of pictures but as my British friend Jon Vaughan said, "It´s a waste taking pictures for they all look the same as the other tourists took in the end." That´s so true! But pics with me on it only I could take; so I saved a selfie. I´m sure no one has took this photo, hehe.
A good writer is also an avid reader. A good reader is also a vivid dreamer. A good dreamer is also a good learner. And a good learner is definitely a good listener. A good listener is always looking to what the heart speaks. A spoken heart talks directly to a silent soul. And a silent soul is most of the time in pace with a peaceful thought. A peaceful thought is also a good writer... VIVA!!
Where was I thirty years ago? Right in the "crux" of a revolution of costumes, there I was born at the Ana Coast Hospital. "Grazing in the Grass" by Hugh Masekela and "I Pretend" by Des O'Connor were number one on the radios that day. At two days of living in this planet I was in a mi(l)ca way, predestined by the stars above, brought by my mother's arms to an apartment in the ninth floor in a building named Cineland, right at the corner of a major avenue also named Ana Costa, which translated into English will be something like Ana Coast, there where the best theatres of that city showed the newest movies. And I can still recall my first five years walking into that shore for miles and miles of distance from the sea, running to the big blueish-green ocean. Like a little turtle just getting off its egg, I was eager to be swallowed by a huge wave from the warm and mellow waters of the Atlantic Ocean that gently bathes the Southeast coast of Brazil. I remember very clearly that we were already in the end of a Dictatorship Regimen, and I still did see myself obliged to sing the National Hymn, every morning at seven o'clock sharp and no excuse to be late, right at the patio of my dear Primary School. We had to make a formation, touching each other's shoulders with our arms extended in a type of echelon. Wearing our uniforms in a neat way, we were armed only by our convictions that one day we would be allowed to just remember that as a faded dream that passed by our lives. One or two giggled for stepping in each other's shoes, obliging the other to get off line to incorporate the foot back in line. Our heads and shoulders had to be maintained in a straight position. Then almost always an invited officer with a quite often rumble and bumble speech with a full chest dissimulating a grandeur personality set a platinum disk over a Victrola which played the LP with a sharp niddle slightly touching the strings of a petroleum colorwhich made the music magically play. And after hearing him bloviating an hour or so, we had to sing an Hymn (depending on the occasion) so out loud and in unison, that we would constantly be off tune, as we couldn´t listen ourselves anymore, but a big chorus with so many sounds that made the world an unique orchestra of voices. But that didn´t mean we could work solo, as if we could sing a wrong note, or we were obliged to repeat that again and again until we got it right with the tune. And I mimed my colleagues from my First Grade, for sometimes the National Hymn had so many fancy words my six-year-old brain could not grasp the meaning and I would often forget the second part of the Epopee. I felt like a little ant among many big irrefragable elephants. Whether elephants make love or war, it is the grass, and ants, that suffer thus far! But now I sing proudly every National Hymn (no matter which nationality) as long as it shows the love for the land and for all people, I sing to each flag, a National symbol which do not divide but show respect for each and every diversity in our world that lead us to a unique voice, and to whatever says of the love for humanity. It´s been hard to grow up in such a hardship, so difficult times passed my way, but I am glad "I made it through the rain" like a Manilow, singing it high, or singing it low. I´m a child of the world! And I also felt as if I were ensorcelled by the moments of inspiration given to me as a gift during my immemorial in-fancy time in Santos. And those are indeed the deeds and the treasures that I will keep inside my heart and soul. And my eternal gratitude for a city that gave me so much enticement beneath its ludic rays of freedom and happiness, that all make me keep on with the chorus of emotions that the enchanting shore still brings to me. And it motivates me to declare with plenty of enthusiasm and my lungs full of light air that "I am a santista, and sportiest, and an artist" to whom Santos is an ever-present praised unprecedented scenario.
Where am I going to be thirty years from now? Probably, with the same happiness and sweetness in my eyes, with the same idealisms, perhaps a little bit wiser and just, but still with the same innocence: For life will never loose its subtle touch for those who remember their childhood with some glimpses of sublime experiences from wishful hearts. Maybe the innocence lies on each small look from a petit child who naively wishes to be happy. And the idealism inhabits the wistful thoughts of those who desirably fight and will never cease striving to bring happiness and freedom to all. It's simple as that morning walking contemplation of a matutinal stroll by the sun in a candent candor from the beginning of summer days at the shores of a roboranting beach city in the name of all Saints.
Check out my book "Many Lives to Love...and The Eternity to Live" with plenty of stories, one of them passed in a fructuous Harbor/Beach city called Santos at: http://www.lulu.com/Virtual Bookstore
"South Adagio" "Saudade" it is a word that only exists in Portuguese. It is from the heart, but it doesn't make it any easy. (Although it can make it a little cheesy to rhyme Portuguese so at ease...Please!) It could be translated just as this: I, Miss Ana, Miss You... You could say, "I miss you" but it is in a different tone. It is even more intense than the sense of missing someone... You really feel your heart full of the existence of that person And at the same time it is empty for the lack of that one. Filling the emptiness... It is about the way I wished upon a feather, Just when I left a piece of my heart in that letter where I said that my love for you wouldn't ever die. And you thought that it was just another lie... Like a little gust of a wind blowing, leaving the earth and saying, "Saudades" I feel the emptiness even knowing that I still have the remembrance of us. "Adeus" or, if you excuse me, "Adios!"
In my Mother Tongue (Brazilian Portuguese) Em 1968 eu nascia na Maternidade Ana Costa e aos dois dias de idade já estava como que predestinada no apartamento do nono andar no edifício Cinelandia da Av. Ana Costa, no seio de minha família praticamente toda santista. Lembro bem das minhas primeiras cinco "aninhas". Recordo que eu tinha que caminhar o que, para uma criança como eu que sempre foi tamanho petit, eram intermináveis "mil léguas supra-marinas", a distancia da orla no meu percalço rumo ao mar. Lembro que já estávamos no fim da Ditadura e eu me via obrigada a cantar no mais alto e claro tom o Hino Nacional inteiro, e eu que fazia de conta que sabia de cor a segunda parte, imitando com caras e bocas os meus colegas de escola. Hoje a inspiração e a alegria que me trazem aqueles tempos de infância passados na Orla da praia de Santos vividos ao sol da liberdade em raios "lúdicos" e a minha eterna gratidão a tão saudável e saudosa Santos me levam a seguir em meu caminho ao mar de emoções que essas lembranças me trazem, e poder dizer com uma voz clara e feliz que sou santista, e sou artista e esportista dessa minha vida de Cinema onde Santos é cenário imprescindível. Onde eu deverei estar daqui a 30 anos? Provavelmente com a mesma doçura no olhar, com o mesmo idealismo; talvez mais sábia e mais justa, mas igual de inocente. Pois que a vida não perderá jamais a singeleza desde que rememoráveis anos repassem sob nossos corações sempre que assim almejarmos. Talvez a inocência esteja no olhar pequenino de cada menino que esmera ser feliz. E o idealismo seja o de alcançarmos todos a felicidade plena; simples, assim, como o caminhar num dia de sol na orla da praia de Santos.
I will never forget the first Music class I had at the American School. The teacher had a very alternative style (at least for that time) and he made a big circle so that the students could face each other. He suggested an exercise: We had to declare a good and a bad thing about the person in front of us.
Right there in front of me sat a really chubby boy with round glasses. Gosh, I even remember his name, even after twenty-seven years: Francisco. A good thing about him...hmmm, let me see... "He has a great smile!" I said. And then he smiled.
Then the teacher asked, "What about the bad thing??" I'd always been very careful not to hurt anybody's feelings...but then the professor obliged me to get it out of my system. So I said in a low tone, "He is a little chubby..." Little! The whole class laughed, which made me even more uncomfortable and from red I turned to purple.
"You only said physical aspects... I want personality traits..." Bit~t~e me! I always thought that a great smile came from a great personality, but a fat body came from a bad eating habit, plus a bit of (should I have said bite again?) lack of self-care. Francisco then said, "She's very pretty! But she's way too shy..." And the whole class made a huge sound like saying, "I totally agree!"
I had to overcome my excessive shyness to become all that I dreamed for me. And then I became a model so that I could accomplish all that. This work allowed me not only to pay my studies, my travels, but also to open my mind to a whole new world. There were many who considered this job as a futile vanity fair, depreciating it to the bones. But only those who have small brains cannot realize that this job requires a lot of patience, good humor, balance, and energy, not to mention the people skill.
And models have to be quite a strong personality to overcome all the rejections they would eventually have to face. I remember when I was at a model agency in Paris, showing my portifolio to a totally oblivious person. She didn't even look at it, she didn't even take a second to look at me and said, "Tu n'as pas le look de Paris." I said, "Thank God I don't have the Parisian Look... Or I would be dead by now!"
I just saw the Fashion Show in Paris, with all the anorexic models shaking their bones, and standing on the catwalk, smoking. Never wondered why they all have that dead fish look in their eyes, that cadaveric regard, and cheek bones ready to crack? Lack of food and oxygen in their brains. And they are the ones showing the fashion these days...Would you rather fit on that image?? No, thanks... 'd rather not! More than anything else I'd rather think to myself that I was first of all and above all a model of health, not hell. For as much as I've been in Persephone's world, I always have a big smile over my face wherever I go... for a smile is contagious! And as the world is the reflection of your own world, it's much better to project joy into your life and onto others, than to desert before the dessert. To blame is to be lame. Just try to tame.
And now they are using children with too much make up and dressed like adults. When will they know that a child looks so much better being a child?? That's just a reflection of a world which seems to have lost its parameter...No wonder our planet looks so sick...you don't have to look inside the cover of a magazine to find that out. It's right there in front cover!
There once was a girl who wished she could know the secret of the Sea and all the mysteries of the Universe. Every day the girl would look outside her window to see the sun rising on the ocean. She then went to search for the secret. Some said it was possible to hear the secret on a seashell. So the girl put the shell near her ear. But she heard nothing at all. Others said she could hear the ocean while waiting the sunset. She would be able to hear the secret of the sea, right into that magical moment when the sun softly touches the horizon and melts into the ocean. So she waited. But again, in vain, she could not hear a thing.
But in the sea she could see a boat floating. She observed and saw that inside that boat there lied another girl. She saw the girl was crying. And she realized that the girl was her own self. And she felt. She felt the taste of her own tears. Just then she was able to care. And she saw that the secret of the great Sea... had always been within. "Photos of Thoughts" by Ana Antunes available at: http://www.lulu.com/content/119873
"A lovely dream the Universe that is! And I wish we can all be part of this. I can only ask if I could possibly share my dreams with you so much I should dare.
While I chant it, so enchanted I sigh.. And I hoped you too might feel all right. I wish we may all be as light as feather. Imagine us as a ball full of light I'd rather.
Here I leave my humble song, Hope you feel it all along... Lights are the days to come and go, For blessed and loved we all are so.
This is not a Druid poetry or chant, But I do the best I can. Or can't!" (A sonnet by Ana C. Antunes)
"You make me flip-flop, you make me fly, You make me tip-top, up in the sky and there to lie and from there to drop. There where my freedom no one would stop.
You make me float right through your eyes... You make me pass throughout your vice. (repeat) How beautiful is your nature in velvet ground! I see the sun smiling up high when you are around... I see the light right into the core of your brow." (repeat) Song by Ana ´nTunes
