ninetiescoppola

[ninetiescoppola]

 SPOOKY FEELINGS

This week I was watching a movie that was lost in the back of my mind for a long time: Breakfast at Tiffany’s. When I watched it for the first time I thought it was absolutely wonderful, a New York girl living in her apartment, wearing amazing clothes and falling in love in the rain. I felt like I was thirteen again. I couldn’t remember the last time that I felt like that and not a person with the same emotions as a rock. And then I wondered: where have all those good feelings gone?

When I was a teenager things were different. I think it was because I was too influenced by movies and TV shows. I thought that I would marry some really hot actor like Evan Peters or Chris Evans and then have a very wealthy and cool life in New York (I’m latina). Unfortunately, I was wrong. Everything I know about life I learned all by myself (or the universe making me learn a good lesson) My parents are kind of distant when it comes to personality or sensitivity (damn all you aquarius), but I remember that ten years ago I was a romantic and intense kind of person who loved poetry, art, books, cinema and would do anything to have an amazing life. Now I apply to any job with an average payment and give a chance to the first guy that appears in front of me, and guess what? I get fucked every single time (and not in the nice way). It’s like everything was fading away and you keep looking back trying to catch what is already gone. And then I realized a monster was behind me. A thing worse than Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees and all the worst villains of horror movies combined together: the evil NOSTALGIA.

It’s amazing how a harmless feeling can be such a two-faced bitch. When I look at a picture or remember myself as a kid, I instantly become a crybaby. I swear that I can still feel the warm breeze in my face after a long car trip, smell my mom making dinner in our old house, remember every sunset after school, draw on the floor with chalk and at night pretend that I was sleeping while I was reading comic books under the blanket. But on the other hand, there was bullying, horrible home conflicts and self-image problems. Ugh… What a dick!

Deep inside I can still feel and see the child and teen-self on me. It’s funny how a 5,5” person can feel so much and have so many thoughts and daydreams as a twelve year old girl. After all, my biggest goal right now, is to marry Matthew Gray Gubler or Madds Mikkelsen or Nicholas Chavez…

Happy (late) Halloween everyone! XOXO.

[ninetiescoppola]

[ninetiescoppola]

[ninetiescoppola]

SINGLE, SO WHAT?

A few months ago I went to my long term orthodontist. I have known her since I was fourteen, we gossip and tell stuff about our lives, just girls being girly. But this time that I left her office I almost had a little stroke for two things, one because she said “you must be really sad without a boyfriend” and the second was because I would have to wear braces again. I didn’t say a word, just nodded my head (for both phrases). On my way home I started to think: when a relationship could save me from my depression? 

My whole life I never had a healthy relationship. At first I thought that the problem was me, but then a few months apart I could see the awful and ugly truth (and when I say ugly I mean literally). When I look back and see those old mistakes I get chills, feel immediately nauseous and have a little voice in my head saying “what the hell were you thinking?”, but then the same thing happens over and over again every year, it’s like a cycle with no end. This year I decided that something had to change, so I chose celibacy… Or almost. Just a short break from men. Not having a crush on somebody is the most amazing feeling in the world. I feel that I could make the new Miss Dior commercial just to show how light and fresh I am. 

I kinda feel guilty for never having a serious boyfriend. I'm always so delusional and sensitive about everything that I totally ignore the walking red flags. It's like I was blind to all the bad traits and only be able to see things that you find fantastic at first, but then you realize that it was the bare minimum and you feel like a complete idiot for the rest of your life. I remember that this happened with my first boyfriend. I was a fifteen year old freshman in high school and we had the same classes. If the time machine were created today I would turn back just to slap myself on the face several times until my younger self gives up the idea of dating that creep. Oh, I forgot to tell the story… In summary, we dated for two months and he lied, cheated, treated me like shit and humiliated me in front of my friends. Turns out that actually he was dating my best friend at the time who moved from Chile. I found that out a few weeks later after we broke up on a facebook post. I felt crushed. For months I thought that was my fault because I wasn’t good, pretty or smart enough to be his girlfriend. And one day I realized that life took back something that clearly wasn’t good for me. It was not worth it. I had to get through all of that shit to see how amazing I was. A year after they broke up too. 

As I said before, I have always been a delulu or a Charlotte York kind of girl. I don't know if it's because I have too much pisces on my birth chart or if it's because I'm just a f-ing fool. Always idealizing the perfect guy with the perfect traits and the perfect personality. I understand that everyone has flaws but why does life keep sending me people with JUST flaws? C’mon universe I expected more from you!

After a while, I stopped searching for the ideal guy and started focusing on myself. All those years being a men's carpet I had decided that a makeover would be perfect: eight hours in a hairdresser’s salon, thousands of bucks on clothes and lots of skincare products later, I became a new person. And then I found my true perfect match: a credit card.

Having a boyfriend is really nice, but enjoying your own company and not owing nothing to anyone can be truly fantastic. I had to learn that the hardest way. Every weekend I enjoy a very caloric treat, sit my big ass on the couch and watch a movie or a whole season of a TV show in a row. After all, I rather suffer for not being some hot actor’s girlfriend than suffer for a stupid asshole who is proud to think that having a dick is a sign of dignity (hot boyfriend of the month: Nicholas Chavez).

[ninetiescoppola]

how i sleep (my posture is cooked)

[ninetiescoppola]

Jane Birkin photographed by Jean-Claude Deutsch, 1971

[ninetiescoppola]

BUT... I'M JUST A GIRL!

Last week I was switching TV channels and saw a doll commercial. I couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time that we decided if we were a Barbie, Monster High or Polly Pocket kind of person? I remember that thirteen years ago I was having a very serious discussion with my friend group about our roles in society. When I say “roles” I mean which Powerpuff Girls character we would be. 

I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel that I’m slowly changing. Everyone I see and know seems to turn eighteen and immediately buy a penthouse and get a BMW. I might have changed physically, but my head still works like it did when I was fourteen (or sort of): still into gossip, boy bands (r.i.p), pop music, fake scenarios and obsessed with old movie franchises and celebrity crushes (please, remind me to send a thanks card to Mads Mikkelsen parents for his existence). In summary I’m a teenager with a huge Visa bill and back pain!

When I was ten, I watched a movie that completely changed my mind, something that brightened my head like an angel’s voice whispering in the ear of the most desperate soul, an absolute cinema kind of movie: Devil Wears Prada. Since I saw Anne Hathaway walking in the streets of New York with Vogue playing in the background, I knew what I wanted to do for life. It was like a message from the universe. For years I kept dreaming about graduating from a good college, working as a columnist on a big magazine and walking around wearing Prada shoes. But then, the Titanic hit the iceberg: my parents and I moved to a very small city, at least two hours away from everything. No college, no magazine, no Prada, no nada.

The funniest thing about reality checks is that even if it's been years, you’ll still be in shock, like me. I've been living in this shitty city for almost eight years and I still can’t believe that my parents did this to me. No warning or anything. I can’t blame them, after all they’re in their fifties, they deserve a calm life, but c’mon… I’m in my best era! So many hopes, dreams and youth… That’s what I thought.

While I was in high school, I still had this last light of hope in my heart that I would take the first bus to my home city when I graduated and live my life as I planned. Never happened. After moving to this living hell, my life was never the same. I just f-ing hate this place so much. I’m still trying to find out if it’s because of the place itself or if the people here really bothers me. I felt that I became a person with no joy, and that made me uninterested in everything else and very depressed. No more thoughts about my goals or anything. I just put all my emotions on ice and got a very sad/stressful job.

A few months ago I was very curious about a website with old girl games, so I took a look and there it was: makeovers, hairdressing, dressing, makeup, kiss and hide, house and wedding decorating and all a girl could imagine to fill her inner child spirit. I felt my whole body shrink and my eyes get the same size as my fist. It was love at first sight. I started to play every single one of them and it wasn’t the same feeling, something has changed. I asked myself if the sparkle was lost and became just a sad nostalgia or if I was such a terrible person with no love inside. And then I realized that it was official: I’m a grownup. But not just a simple grownup, a responsible, tired, sleepy, horny, with severe body dysmorphia, mood swings and a very questionable taste in men, kind of grownup. And I’m just twenty two. 

Don’t get me wrong, being an adult is lovely, especially the part of the payday. But if I could turn back time, I would. Ten years ago I was deciding which One Direction member I would like to marry. Now I have to get a job, pay taxes, bills and insurance. Actually, the only good part of it, it’s the money (if there’s any left).

[ninetiescoppola]

where are my bipolar girlies

[ninetiescoppola]

LIVING, LEARNING, YELLING

Last week I was taking a look at my family album and I saw something peculiar: thousands of pictures of me smiling. I can’t remember when was the last time that I had a good time and felt relieved of stress, pain and anxiety. I felt that eventually everything that was so colorful and joyful turned gray and meaningless. I wondered if a girl’s life is a spectrum: childhood, pre-rebellious-teen, teenager (a.k.a. living hell with trauma development) and angry adult with mental issues and addicted to substances. This week I was watching Twin Peaks and I started to think if Laura Palmer’s iconic scream is our inner will. Are all girls the same but with different addresses?

Women invented arts to channel their rage. Writing, painting, drawing, creating and making are a very subtle way to tell people to get the fuck away before you stab them in the neck. I keep trying to find out where all this anger came from, maybe it was the society, relatives with the most cruel and intentional body shaming comments or even our judging parents made us feel like that. The pressure of being perfect in everything and having no failures or flaws, the big effort that we have to make to feel loved and accepted and last but not least, the beauty standards. 

In my last job I experienced everything at once. I was working as assistant’s manager in a coffee house downtown, the position of manager was open and I was the best option. In summary, I wasn’t picked and my boss chose his friend who was from another city miles away from where I live. According to him, I was a “too hard to handle kind of person”, bullshit. I admit that I’m no cookie, but better being harsh than a suck up. When I got home, I screamed against a pillow till I got voiceless and scratched all my face. I felt used by him. So, after almost two and a half years being his puppet and with a very heavy heart, I quit. My world was falling apart, still is, all the employees and customers were like a huge family to me. We had this special bond that I can’t explain. Now I live like Nosferatu, hiding in the shadows and only leaving my cute and pretty girly girl castle (my room) when it’s something extremely mandatory. The truth is that I’m done being the Martyr, but I feel that If I couldn’t even be able to do that job that I thought I was perfect at, could I be good at doing anything else? Does his opinion affect me that much?

Last year, before I quit, I was so messed up that I started to drink heavily and mix pills and alcohol like it was candy and kool-aid. Everyday after work I went to a different bar or finished a bottle of wine and vodka at my ex’s house. One day I took a look in the mirror and saw how that affected me and my body, so I decided that I should change my life, lose weight and take care of myself. It went all wrong. I became obsessed with my body and stopped eating, spent all my money on clothes and makeup, started to blow off my therapist and quit my meds. Later that month I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. After that my weekly schedule was reduced to: drugstore, therapist’s office and the gas station to buy my cigarettes. 

Being away from all of this made me a little better, not completely, but feels ok. I’m trying to understand that if something bothers me, I should go and not look back. This can be applied for jobs, relationships and people who are not worth your inner peace. 

Today, comparing to not-so-old days, I became a fucking (medicated, not so angry and oversharing) badass, of course that I’m still sad and have panic and anxiety attacks, but at least I’m cool.

[ninetiescoppola]

[ninetiescoppola]

REJECT MODERNITY, EMBRACE TRADITION

Some strange stuff has been happening to me, things that haven't happened since I was fourteen, I’m feeling alone. Not alone because I've been staying home these past months, but because suddenly I realized that I don’t have a partner. Is this normal? Maybe it’s because I watched too much Lord of the Rings the entire past weekend and have been dreaming with Viggo Mortensen, thinking how amazing would be if he was my boyfriend or maybe it’s because I scroll pinterest too much and end up seeing a lot of attractive, wiser, most experienced and not getting any younger man that I would kneel and roll for it (is this sentence too antifeminist?). The truth is that I don’t think that men of my age could offer everything I wish in a true relationship, like deep connections, long talks while sharing a cigarette and pure raw passion. Maybe it’s a fantasy of mine, maybe not.To be honest, I once had a date with an older guy, he was thirty eight and I was twenty. We went to a rock pub downtown and he was a total freak, acting like Jack Sparrow after three gallons of rum. He wanted to take me home in his car and I said no immediately, after all the guy was hammered. He tried to give me a kiss but I ran as fast as I could. But something even worse happened that day: I met my ex boyfriend. Kissing Sparrow doesn’t seem so bad now.

My latest boyfriend was a year younger than me and his whole personality was based on his friends' opinions (dickhead). Addicted to drugs, mama’s little boy, jealous, controlling, manipulative and with a serious problem of incorrect grammar. But at least he was a good kisser.

That same year I worked with a very close friend of mine that was in her early thirties, she only dated guys in their twenties, we worked together less than two years and she went out with six or seven boys, all ended with the same story: immaturity. They cut her off of their lives like if she was nothing, not even an explanation about it. The thing about young guys is that they don’t talk when things go wrong, don’t even pay for your dinner when you go out with them and with the minimum sign of no interest in sex they’re gone. In my point of view and considering the opinion of many people that I’ve seen dating these last few years, twenty-something guys exist for us to have fun, nothing too serious, or you’ll end up fucked and messed up by an ugly, immature and unstable guy. I couldn’t help but wonder if millenials/gen z are not datable or all the good guys were already picked.

Sometimes, when everything is falling apart, all I want to do is lay on a forty year old man’s strong arms and cry my lungs out while he kisses the top of my head and caresses my hair (Lana would be proud of her well raised child). A man with capital m. Of course boys are cute too and have their charm, but nothing compared to them.

For now, I’ll just take a nap and have sweet dreams about Aragorn.

[ninetiescoppola]