You know the story of the white shit, right? It's that journal of the Brazilian guy who moves from São Paulo to Pennsylvania and thinks everything is wonderful and beautiful in the beginning of the fall and in the beginning of the winter, until the beautiful cotton-white snow turns into white shit by mid-winter!
Well it is my theory that everyone who lives here, Brazilian or American alike, goes through that process every year. In the beginning of the winter the snow is beautiful white pieces of cotton. From the middle to the end of the winter it turns into white shit.
Today was officially my day to stop thinking that snow looks like little pieces of cotton flying through the air and start calling it white shit.
I got up early to help hubby leave for work. We shoveled the snow off the driveway to make way for the car. The snow was beautiful and dry, and it came to our shovels easily and it left our shovels just as easily.
I thought to myself, "later on I will come out and shovel again before my bubby gets home." Well, later on the snow turned to freezing rain (when the rain falls and freezes as it touches the cold surface). Do you know what happens at times like these? A fine layer of ice covers everything just like sugar on creme brule.
So there I went. The sweet, cute fluffly dry snow had now turned into wet and heavy white shit. And I had to get the whole driveway done. The whole freakishly long driveway. Oh, yes, when you have to shovel wet snow, any driveway is freakishly long. And I still had to do the front and back doors as well, and thanks to God, some one had done our sidewalk.
Oh, yes! To top it off, I had menstrual cramps. You know, if you are girl, what means - they are those cramps that only a liter of morphine could possibly make go away. But I don't usually store morphine in the house, you know.
About 30 minutes into the ice shoveling, I had to get rid of the two winter coats I had on, because I was already sweating bullets. The cramps were gone. The pain had moved to the upper arms.
About an hour after that I took off my scarf and put it down on the snow. 90 minutes later I would come back to find a frozen scarf on the snow.
As soon as I took off the scarf, these 2 boys walk by, carrying shovels. "Do you need help?" I said "I'm all set," when I obviously still had 3/4 of the driveway to do. "Are you sure?" "Yeah! Tks though!"
See, I figured they were teenage boys (couldn't tell from the distance) hoping to get money for helping me. Well, God gave me arms and legs and youth - for now. I can afford to refuse help. I figured I could not let the boys help me than go like, "will you take a check?" Since we never carry money on us... or keep it in the house...
So I went on alone, wearing just a sweatshirt and snow pants. And gloves. 2 pairs of gloves.
I was done with the whole driveway 1.5 hours after that teenager episode. I took photos from the before. I forgot to take one of the after. I was so tired ... and frozen. Really, my hair was frozen. And so was my sweatshirt and my hat. Maybe I will take pictures of the fruit of my work to morrow before leaving for work.
When I got home it was already almost 4pm. 5 Minutes later hubby was home. I thought I was going to have a hot cocoa by myself. Well, I didn't have to.
I guess I should really learn how to operate that snow blower.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Summer, where are you?
No snow day so far. No fun. No making snowmen. No snow angels. No sledding. No hot cocoa. But everything outside reminds me it's winter. The snow that fell as if not wanting to is still sitting there - on the grass, and on the sidewalks. Muddy and ugly on the side of the streets. My sore arms still remind me I had to shovel the end of the driveway. Just the end. The snow chose the right place to sit - the end of the driveway. As if saying, I'm not letting you out until you give me some blood.
The temperatures have been bellow or close to freezing everyday.
Meanwhile in Brazil...
My family enjoys the warmth of the sun and the salty breeze of our beach. My beach. The one I chose to leave behind.
They celebrate the arrival of a new year standing outside, in shorts and spaghetti straps.
I know. I chose this life for me. I just wish the cold didn't have to come with it. I don't belong in a place with cold weather. A kind of weather that makes me shiver for a good quarter of an hour for every 5 minutes I spend outside. A kind of weather that forces me to cover everything I'm so proud to show. A kind of weather that simply tells me heartlessly and coldly that I must rethink my wardrobe.
I tell you what. It's envy. The cold weather has envy of what God gave me. And it does not want me to show it off to the world. So it keeps remind me to cover myself in layers and layers of winter gear.
I tell you what, cold weather. You won't win. I will not end my days here, where you tell me what to wear. And tell me how sore my arms will be from shoveling the snow you bring. Some day I will leave you. Some day I will go back to my place - my beach. Where I can walk in my bikinis all day long, and shower outside anytime I want. Where I can climb my cashew tree and eat mangoes and drink coconut water as much as I want.
Who will be laughing then, envious cold weather? Who will be laughing then?
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Learn to play the guitar in Russian
The hardest part about learning how to play the guitar in English is having to re-learn music language.
You'd think it's the reading of the staff or the positioning of your fingers. Well, those are all pretty hard. (I should have learned it as a child. Instead I played the brat and lost my chance. And my mom was never very much adept of second chances)
But, yeah, those are all hard things to learn. However those are hard things for everyone one.
It's hard having to understand that DÓ RÉ MI FÁ SOL LÁ SI are now called C D E F G A B
Bemol and sustenido are flat or sharp, and I don't even know which one is which.
See, maybe if you are a musician, those transfers are easier to you. But I am not. I am just a girl who likes to sing her favorite songs and who would like to play them in the guitar, just for fun.
Makes me think of my ELL students trying to learn science, math, social studies in English. They are not scientists or mathematicians, or historians or geographers. They are just normal children trying to survive in school.
Just like you and me once were.
And they have to relearn school language in English.
If you want to understand how your ELL students feel in your class, trying learning music in Russian or something.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Learning a new game
I learned to play a new game last week. It's called Mancala. No, I know you know that Mancala is not a NEW game per se. it's a new game for me however.
I had seen children playing. And I even knew my husband had played it as a kid, but I had not the slightest idea what on earth that game was. to me it was just a bunch of little marbles being moved around. And fast. My goodness, those kids move those marbles around fast!
Anyway, one of my students became my teacher last week and taught me how to play the mancala and I am very happy about it. I love learning new thigns. Especially new games!
I had seen children playing. And I even knew my husband had played it as a kid, but I had not the slightest idea what on earth that game was. to me it was just a bunch of little marbles being moved around. And fast. My goodness, those kids move those marbles around fast!
Anyway, one of my students became my teacher last week and taught me how to play the mancala and I am very happy about it. I love learning new thigns. Especially new games!
Monday, December 06, 2010
Paul on SNL
Yes, I am talking about Paul McCartney, the only other man in my life other than my husband and my two brothers.
He will be on SNL this Saturday and I will try to go see him.
And no, I don't want to go see him just because I am desperately in love wit him. I probably would not go through the trouble of getting in SNL if I did not have a very specific goal in my mind. I want Paul to receive my book. The one I wrote about the time machine. "The Little Girl from Yesterday".
I don't care if I never talk to him, though I wold appreciate the chance. I want him to read my book. Come on, I have waited my whole entire life to get this book to him. Only now I felt I actually had the knowledge to translate it into English. Now that it's ready, it's time he gets a copy of it.
So I don't care if he doesn't talk to me. I just want him to read my book.
LOL! Any resemblance to Paperback Writer is a mere coincidence.
He will be on SNL this Saturday and I will try to go see him.
And no, I don't want to go see him just because I am desperately in love wit him. I probably would not go through the trouble of getting in SNL if I did not have a very specific goal in my mind. I want Paul to receive my book. The one I wrote about the time machine. "The Little Girl from Yesterday".
I don't care if I never talk to him, though I wold appreciate the chance. I want him to read my book. Come on, I have waited my whole entire life to get this book to him. Only now I felt I actually had the knowledge to translate it into English. Now that it's ready, it's time he gets a copy of it.
So I don't care if he doesn't talk to me. I just want him to read my book.
LOL! Any resemblance to Paperback Writer is a mere coincidence.
Hard part of buying a guitar: learning how to play
So, I bought my guitar. I bought a Dean. No, not because it is the name of my love, well, ok, yes, it is because it's the name of my love, but I made sure to ask around first. People said it is a good guitar.
So I went to the store and checked out some models. I really wanted to buy the sunburst one, because being desperately in love with Paul McCartney - the other love of my life - I figured I'd get something that reminded me of him. Besides, the first guitar I ever saw in my life, in my church, was like that and I remember being mesmerized by the way the colors blended together. It was like... candy.
But then I thought, "No, I don't want to get something just to look like it's Paul McCartney's stuff. Besides, I am never going to be a hundredth of what he is, so... no. I actually want something that looks girly, like me. I wanted one that looked really made of pixie dust. However Dean guitars did not have any pixie-dusty stuff, and I really wanted the Dean. SO I got a red one. ... Yeah, girly enough. Cute like me. It reminds me of Kevin - my first car.
Once I knew what I wanted, I just waited fro Black Friday to come along and ordered it online. The discount? The discount was lousy. So much for waiting for Black Friday discounts. 15%. 15%??? What kind of a Black Friday sale gives you a mere 15-freaking-% discount? I don't know!!! Lousy. But I had to get my guitar on that day or I'd die!
No my guitar is here and I am trying to figure out how to learn it. I'm either a lousy learner or this guitar playing thing really is not the easiest thing in the world.
The tip of my fingers are hurting. My baby says that's how it's supposed to be. Man! I wish it was just like this - Get a guitar and Boom! Now you magically know how to play anything you want, starting with Puff the Magic Dragon, passing by Sandy & Junior, the king - Roberto - and ending with the Beatles.
Can't it just be that easy?
So I went to the store and checked out some models. I really wanted to buy the sunburst one, because being desperately in love with Paul McCartney - the other love of my life - I figured I'd get something that reminded me of him. Besides, the first guitar I ever saw in my life, in my church, was like that and I remember being mesmerized by the way the colors blended together. It was like... candy.
But then I thought, "No, I don't want to get something just to look like it's Paul McCartney's stuff. Besides, I am never going to be a hundredth of what he is, so... no. I actually want something that looks girly, like me. I wanted one that looked really made of pixie dust. However Dean guitars did not have any pixie-dusty stuff, and I really wanted the Dean. SO I got a red one. ... Yeah, girly enough. Cute like me. It reminds me of Kevin - my first car.
Once I knew what I wanted, I just waited fro Black Friday to come along and ordered it online. The discount? The discount was lousy. So much for waiting for Black Friday discounts. 15%. 15%??? What kind of a Black Friday sale gives you a mere 15-freaking-% discount? I don't know!!! Lousy. But I had to get my guitar on that day or I'd die!
No my guitar is here and I am trying to figure out how to learn it. I'm either a lousy learner or this guitar playing thing really is not the easiest thing in the world.
The tip of my fingers are hurting. My baby says that's how it's supposed to be. Man! I wish it was just like this - Get a guitar and Boom! Now you magically know how to play anything you want, starting with Puff the Magic Dragon, passing by Sandy & Junior, the king - Roberto - and ending with the Beatles.
Can't it just be that easy?
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Abbey Road Brasileira - us - young, free and irresponsible
left to right:
Lua,*
Jamile,
Beta,*
Fernanda,
Vika,*
Samara.
*BFFs
Us - Beta, Lua and I - the Die Hard Trio. Someone decided to call Us that because Us were always together. Up and down the city. Laughing & crying, fighting & making up. Us. Always together. Always Us.
And we did lots of crazy stuff together.
Some of them were caught on camera:
Us laying on the floor of the parking garage at the mall.
Us on the crosswalk “a la Abbey Road”. Just that we were dancing and jumping, instead of calmly crossing like John, Paul, George and Ringo.
Us swinging from the lamp post in front of McDonald's.
Us holding the covers of all our Beatles CDs.
Us throwing eggs on my head to celebrate my b-day.
Us sleeping over at my aunt's.
Us doing group hug.
Us at my wedding.
Lots of crazy stuff we did together were never caught on camera:
Us crying on each other's shoulder every time a boyfriend did not work out.
Us making plans to live together and eat Ramen Noodles for ever.
Us making plans of world domination.
Us yelling at each other for never getting a chance to say anything.
Us yelling at each other for being late for our meeting at the mall.
Us screaming at the TV while we watched an old Beatles TV show.
Us being loud and messy on the bus.
Us growing apart and growing closer again.
Us saying we were sorry.
Us telling secrets that we won't even tell our moms.
Us. Always Us.
I miss Us.
I miss having friends like Us.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
No books? No texting? No way!
So I went for the MTEL on Saturday morning. And I was aware that there was a no electronics policy. So I left my cell in the car and grabbed myself a book. As soon as I walked into the classroom and sat down however, the proctor told me - you must not have a book on you.
A book? I thought. Must not have? Must not have a book?
Ok, I said. What do I do with it? Put it away by the window together with everyone else's pocket books.
Well, a policy is a policy, those who have the power make them, those who have working brains obey them. So I put the book away.
And for the next 30 minutes I sat there suffering from some sort of withdrawal syndrome - no book to read, no phone to mess around with. What am I supposed to do? I felt weird. I felt empty. I felt as if those 30 minutes would never come back. And I was wasting them by doing nothing.
Weird do-nothing feeling! Not used to it.
A book? I thought. Must not have? Must not have a book?
Ok, I said. What do I do with it? Put it away by the window together with everyone else's pocket books.
Well, a policy is a policy, those who have the power make them, those who have working brains obey them. So I put the book away.
And for the next 30 minutes I sat there suffering from some sort of withdrawal syndrome - no book to read, no phone to mess around with. What am I supposed to do? I felt weird. I felt empty. I felt as if those 30 minutes would never come back. And I was wasting them by doing nothing.
Weird do-nothing feeling! Not used to it.
Friday, November 19, 2010
best of both worlds? can't have it.
I miss my friends.
It's november 19, 2010, and I just found out Paul McCartney - yes, Paul McCartney, my favorite singer ever and the only guy I've liked for longer than my husband - is going to be playing at the SNL on December 11.
My husband said he'd come with me to NYC, to try something insane - stand in line for stand-by tickets for SNL the night before.
"However," says hubby, "if you can get a girl friend to go with you, I will stay home."
My baby is doing that for me - stand a whole night in a line to TRY to see Mr. McCartney - for me. How could I possibly ask God for a husband better than that? A husband who will put up with my madness?
I know he'd rather not go. He'd rather stay home and sleep in his nice cozy bed. If only I had a friend to go with me.
And that's when I realized - I have those friends. I have friends who would drop everything and come on an insane trip to try to see Paul, with me, without thinking twice. But they live a continent away.
I look around me, where I live, in this country I chose to be my home, and I don't see a single friend I'd dare to invite to join in for one of my crazy ideas.
Other than my husband, this angel sent from heaven, no one else would drop everything for me.
They say we only value things after we lose them.
That's not true for me.
I always knew what the girls and I had was special. I always knew our friendship was the most precious jewel I could have. I always knew it. We knew it. From the moment we decided we were going to be best friends, no matter what, we knew we were on to something special.
I just didn't realize how terribly I'd miss it. And how guilty I'd feel for having chosen to leave.
Even though our friendship is still there, I am not. I'm here, in the US - all by myself - while they are there, in my Brazil, with the rest of the stuff I chose to leave behind.
Maybe it's true that you can't have the best of both worlds.
I miss you, girls. Please, forgive me.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
more crazy dreams: Freedom, mom, and Paul McCartney
Why did I care so little about being with my family when I was a teenager? While everyone of my peers was terrified about spending a weekend away from mom and dad, I couldn't wait to get out of the house and see the world. "How silly can they be?" I asked myself.
Mom always told me, "I did not raise you for myself. I raised you to go out and see the world. I raised you to go after your dreams. I raised you to be free." So I guess she succeeded. I went out and saw the world. I followed my dreams. I didn't achieve everything I ever wanted, but I went after my dreams one by one with as much passion as I could, prioritizing the ones I thought were really important, leaving others in the back burner, I am still going after my dreams. The only part of that speech I could not accomplish was the "be free" part. I wake up every morning at 6 and go to work all day at a job I am not fond of. I left the job of my dreams to land something that would pay the bills and my dream vacations. Maybe I am free, just that I have to finance my own freedom. Mom also raised me to be responsible.
Why did I care so little about being with my family, while my peers were terrified about leaving home? Because mom told me too.
However today, as most of my peers are out in the world, with families of their own, and as they don't worry so much about being away from mom and dad anymore, why do I feel terribly homesick? Why do I miss mom and grandma and aunts more than anything? I do have a family of my own, as I have always dreamed of, ( no children, yet - I happen to value my freedom) but I wish, oh how I wish, I could just get in a car anytime and go see mommy, and just ask for a hug.
I had a nightmare last night. Mom and I were alone in a fancy house and someone bad tried to break in. I woke up crying, "Mom! Mommyyyy! Mo-o-o-o-ommm!" Mom came. We were at a pool house. With sliding window doors, and thick curtains. "It was just a bad dream. It's ok. Just make sure you lock the doors at night." That's when I woke up for real, and I was in my bed at Cross Street. With my husband's cat. My baby is away with his family. Just lock the doors, I remembered. Are the doors all locked? It's 12:30. Are the doors all locked? Well the doors to my floor are locked. What about the main doors to the house? I never lock them. Oh, my God, I never lock the main doors! And I am home alone! Of course I was still in a dream state. I ALWAYS lock the main doors. They are usually the only doors I lock. But in my half-awake half-asleep mind, I thought I never did. I tried called my baby, but he would not pick up the phone. He always says, "Wake me up if you have a nightmare." I tried.
I did not have a husband last night. I did not have Mommy last night. I was all alone... with my husband's cat to take care of.
Oh, you bet if someone broke into the house, the cat would be the last of my worries. I guess that shows I am not ready to be a mom.
But since my mind was half asleep, I closed my eyes again. Asked God to take care of me and my house, and went back to sleep.
I was with mommy, at the airport. And we spotted the one man I have loved since I was 10 years old. You guessed it! Paul McCartney! No fans. No crew. No band. No TV reporters. Just him. I'm sure he had his band with him. I am sure he was just wondering around the airport looking for something. I was hoping he was looking for me. But I knew he was not. There's a whole lot of things to do at an airport.
I was scared of talking to him and finding out he was not as nice as I always thought he'd be. But I went ahead anyway, and he was super nice. I asked for an autograph. "I can't talk right now. But give me 5 minutes and I will be back." And he was back! He gave me his autograph and I asked for a hug. A hug, of course. Would I have the nerve to ask for a hug in real life? Oh, I don't know. Maybe I will find it out someday. "Can I give you a hug?" it is the one thing I always ask him every time I have a dream in which he shows up. I was so mesmerized by having Paul right there that I could not talk about any subject for more than 5 seconds. It was like trying to fit everything you've always wanted to tell someone for the past 20 years in the few minutes you know you'll have that person with you. Then you'll never see him again.
"We're stuck here because our plane fell off the sky." "What?" Yup, I got his attention now. Just before he showed up, I saw a plane falling off the sky. I was the only one who had seen it and no one had paid attention to me until now. "Yes! I saw it! It was right over there! It just ...fell! Like this: voosh." He looked at where I was pointing as if what he had been thinking had started to make sense. Had he seen it too?
But then he really had to go. And so he did. "Nice meeting you." And only then I remembered, Your novel! Tell him about your novel! Oh, gee! Seriously? You could think of all mundane things in the world to spill out at Paul McCartney, except to tell him you wrote a novel? How stupid can you be? When will you have Paul McCartney's undivided attention again? Uh, never! Go after him! Run! And that's when I forgot I was a grown-up, I forgot Paul was walking around trying to be a normal person, I forgot Beatlemania was over and I ran and called out his name. Wow, I never knew calling out Paul McCartney's name would work out magic. Like magic, security people came up and made sure I did not get anywhere near him. "Wait! I wrote a novel about the Beatles. Can I send it to you? Will you read it?"
"Can you make it into a books on tape?"
"How about kindle?"
"I don't have one."
"Books on tape it is."
And then he really had to go.
So I took my plane home and in it I had a dream I really had a time machine and young Paul and a couple of my friends and I ended up in some early 20th century civilization and had to escape these evil people. Indiana Jones style. Now, yes, this was the young Paul from the Beatles years. However, he held a camcorder. A portable one. Like the one his son brought to Brazil in 1993.
We're struggling for our lives and you have a camcorder? Ok, help me up this rope first. You can film again as soon as you push be back to safety. He didn't look happy, almost as if saying, all you need me for is to keep you safe? What about my film? "Come on! We're running out of time!" Whatever, said the look in his face, if being safe is that important to you, I guess I will help. "Here, hold my camcorder, and I will push you up."
Yup, pretty surreal. Can you imagine someone going like, ok I know we're about to die, but, crap, let me get this on film! LOL! If anyone would do that it would probably be me!
Mom always told me, "I did not raise you for myself. I raised you to go out and see the world. I raised you to go after your dreams. I raised you to be free." So I guess she succeeded. I went out and saw the world. I followed my dreams. I didn't achieve everything I ever wanted, but I went after my dreams one by one with as much passion as I could, prioritizing the ones I thought were really important, leaving others in the back burner, I am still going after my dreams. The only part of that speech I could not accomplish was the "be free" part. I wake up every morning at 6 and go to work all day at a job I am not fond of. I left the job of my dreams to land something that would pay the bills and my dream vacations. Maybe I am free, just that I have to finance my own freedom. Mom also raised me to be responsible.
Why did I care so little about being with my family, while my peers were terrified about leaving home? Because mom told me too.
However today, as most of my peers are out in the world, with families of their own, and as they don't worry so much about being away from mom and dad anymore, why do I feel terribly homesick? Why do I miss mom and grandma and aunts more than anything? I do have a family of my own, as I have always dreamed of, ( no children, yet - I happen to value my freedom) but I wish, oh how I wish, I could just get in a car anytime and go see mommy, and just ask for a hug.
I had a nightmare last night. Mom and I were alone in a fancy house and someone bad tried to break in. I woke up crying, "Mom! Mommyyyy! Mo-o-o-o-ommm!" Mom came. We were at a pool house. With sliding window doors, and thick curtains. "It was just a bad dream. It's ok. Just make sure you lock the doors at night." That's when I woke up for real, and I was in my bed at Cross Street. With my husband's cat. My baby is away with his family. Just lock the doors, I remembered. Are the doors all locked? It's 12:30. Are the doors all locked? Well the doors to my floor are locked. What about the main doors to the house? I never lock them. Oh, my God, I never lock the main doors! And I am home alone! Of course I was still in a dream state. I ALWAYS lock the main doors. They are usually the only doors I lock. But in my half-awake half-asleep mind, I thought I never did. I tried called my baby, but he would not pick up the phone. He always says, "Wake me up if you have a nightmare." I tried.
I did not have a husband last night. I did not have Mommy last night. I was all alone... with my husband's cat to take care of.
Oh, you bet if someone broke into the house, the cat would be the last of my worries. I guess that shows I am not ready to be a mom.
But since my mind was half asleep, I closed my eyes again. Asked God to take care of me and my house, and went back to sleep.
I was with mommy, at the airport. And we spotted the one man I have loved since I was 10 years old. You guessed it! Paul McCartney! No fans. No crew. No band. No TV reporters. Just him. I'm sure he had his band with him. I am sure he was just wondering around the airport looking for something. I was hoping he was looking for me. But I knew he was not. There's a whole lot of things to do at an airport.
I was scared of talking to him and finding out he was not as nice as I always thought he'd be. But I went ahead anyway, and he was super nice. I asked for an autograph. "I can't talk right now. But give me 5 minutes and I will be back." And he was back! He gave me his autograph and I asked for a hug. A hug, of course. Would I have the nerve to ask for a hug in real life? Oh, I don't know. Maybe I will find it out someday. "Can I give you a hug?" it is the one thing I always ask him every time I have a dream in which he shows up. I was so mesmerized by having Paul right there that I could not talk about any subject for more than 5 seconds. It was like trying to fit everything you've always wanted to tell someone for the past 20 years in the few minutes you know you'll have that person with you. Then you'll never see him again.
"We're stuck here because our plane fell off the sky." "What?" Yup, I got his attention now. Just before he showed up, I saw a plane falling off the sky. I was the only one who had seen it and no one had paid attention to me until now. "Yes! I saw it! It was right over there! It just ...fell! Like this: voosh." He looked at where I was pointing as if what he had been thinking had started to make sense. Had he seen it too?
But then he really had to go. And so he did. "Nice meeting you." And only then I remembered, Your novel! Tell him about your novel! Oh, gee! Seriously? You could think of all mundane things in the world to spill out at Paul McCartney, except to tell him you wrote a novel? How stupid can you be? When will you have Paul McCartney's undivided attention again? Uh, never! Go after him! Run! And that's when I forgot I was a grown-up, I forgot Paul was walking around trying to be a normal person, I forgot Beatlemania was over and I ran and called out his name. Wow, I never knew calling out Paul McCartney's name would work out magic. Like magic, security people came up and made sure I did not get anywhere near him. "Wait! I wrote a novel about the Beatles. Can I send it to you? Will you read it?"
"Can you make it into a books on tape?"
"How about kindle?"
"I don't have one."
"Books on tape it is."
And then he really had to go.
So I took my plane home and in it I had a dream I really had a time machine and young Paul and a couple of my friends and I ended up in some early 20th century civilization and had to escape these evil people. Indiana Jones style. Now, yes, this was the young Paul from the Beatles years. However, he held a camcorder. A portable one. Like the one his son brought to Brazil in 1993.
We're struggling for our lives and you have a camcorder? Ok, help me up this rope first. You can film again as soon as you push be back to safety. He didn't look happy, almost as if saying, all you need me for is to keep you safe? What about my film? "Come on! We're running out of time!" Whatever, said the look in his face, if being safe is that important to you, I guess I will help. "Here, hold my camcorder, and I will push you up."
Yup, pretty surreal. Can you imagine someone going like, ok I know we're about to die, but, crap, let me get this on film! LOL! If anyone would do that it would probably be me!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Think of me - anti-homework version - by Vika
So much homework to do. All piled up. And I feel nothing like doing it. I hate homework. Hate it! Hate it! With all my heart, mind and soul!
I remember my middle school years, when I used to sing those anti-school versions of famous songs, the ones that use to be love songs and we turned into songs that talked about how much we did not want to go to school, like Roberto Carlos famous, "Everything can go to hell". Instead of "What good is the sun shining in the beautiful sky?", we sang "What good are books for students to study?" It's kind of like what Weird All does.
I don't know who wrote this Roberto Carlos version. What I do know is that I wrote this one version of "Pense em Mim" (Think of Me), by country duo Leandro & Leonardo. I will write the English translation here. It's reall just a translation, if you try singing it, it won't match. It's just to give you an idea of what we used to sing.
Think of Me - anti-homework version By Vika
"Instead of you staying home doing homework
Instead of you worrying about homework
Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me
No, don't do your homework
Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me
No, don't do your homework
Homework...
Forget about homework
Look outside, it's the best of the sun, the sun, the sun -ooh, ooh
Makes me feel like going out
Let's hop on the first bus
headed to the Barra Lighthouse
At the Barra Lighthouse
Only you and me
Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me
No, don't do your homework
Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me
No, don't do your homework
Homework...
Forget about homework"
Ah, Good old middle school years... Of course I could not forget about homework! I was responsible. But homework was torture. So I wrote this other anti-school version of a famous Leandro e Leonardo song: (again, this is just the word by word translation, if you try singing it in English it will sound really bad)
I'm sorry but I will cry (Desculpe mas eu vou chorar) - anti-school version by Vika again
The lights of my room are on
showing all the books on my desk
And I am sitting here with me
in sheer torment
I hear my friends playing outside
I'm the only who's here working
I'm the family nerd at work
that's my lament
Then I start to wonder
"is studying really worth it?"
The sometimes I even think
"I will run away"
But then I come to my senses
I don't want a bad grade in English
And I still have to do my Portuguese homework
I will cry, I am sorry, but I will cry
I can't study anymore, I can't take that much pressure
I will cry, I am sorry, but I will cry,
But when Christmas time is here, I will not be in Summer School"
The Little Girl From Yesterday
So, I was telling people about my book yesterday at belly dancing practice.
And one of my classmates told me her mom sneaked into the Beatles hotel room when she was a kid. And here was I thinking this kind of stuff only happened in movies... naive me...
Another classmate told me about this one little girl that simply walked up to John Lennon's door and asked for an autograph. Apparently he was impressed by how bold the little girl was and they became friends...
Ay,ay, if I had a time machine...
Anyway... if I do discover Paul McCartney's address, don't you think I will not go asking for an autograph? LOL No!!! I will go ask him to read my book. You bet I will.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Linda & Paul
Last night I had this dream that I got to meet Paul and Linda McCartney. That's a stupid dream because Linda passed away over 10 years ago. I was really upset when that happened. First I was sad for Paul and his family. He really loved her. Second I was upset because I really wanted to meet her (and him of course), some day. I just hope I get to meet him someday.
On a happier note, I really can't wait till I can start my guitar lessons. When the semester is over I will start. I can't start now because all of my nights are taken. Next semester I will save my Mondays for guitar lessons.
I am loving belly dancing lessons.
And I am having a blast with the drama club at school. The kids looooooove it. And I love leading them. It's my little way of keeping in touch with drama. I miss my drama team so much!
Wednesday, October 06, 2010
I want to go back to Bahia
Winter time is getting closer. The leaves are turning. Soon the sun will not warm up my body anymore. And for a very long time.
I want to go back to Bahia. I just want to go back to Bahia.
Monday, October 04, 2010
Dreams of freedom
One more week starts today. Lêlê! Lêlê! Back to slavery!
The saying goes "When you see a slave sleeping, do not wake him up. He might be dreaming of freedom." But unfortunately, my alarm clock does wake me up every morning at 6am.
Drama Club
Absolute success!!!
Sign-up for clubs were today, and drama club was the among the most popular ones. It's really fun to see all those kids desperately trying to sign up for it. Some kids really want to make it to Nickelodeon or Disney Channel. I hope they do.
I mean, what are the chances that when they become famous they will say it on an interview, "I owe it all to my drama teacher, Mrs. Winters!" Nah, not happening. But I would be happy if one of my kids did achieve such dream.
I don't know if any one of them will be a famous actor or actress someday. But I do hope they have a good time in my club. I hope they enjoy bringing their characters to life. And I hope drama helps them in life, as much as it helped me.
Sign-up for clubs were today, and drama club was the among the most popular ones. It's really fun to see all those kids desperately trying to sign up for it. Some kids really want to make it to Nickelodeon or Disney Channel. I hope they do.
I mean, what are the chances that when they become famous they will say it on an interview, "I owe it all to my drama teacher, Mrs. Winters!" Nah, not happening. But I would be happy if one of my kids did achieve such dream.
I don't know if any one of them will be a famous actor or actress someday. But I do hope they have a good time in my club. I hope they enjoy bringing their characters to life. And I hope drama helps them in life, as much as it helped me.
The kids are excited. We're going to have a good year.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
My B-day!!!... next June... I CAN'T WAIT! I CAN'T WAIT!
I can hardly wait for my b-day next year!
I will arrive in Salvador exactly on the 29th of June. I want a lot of St.John's food and a karaoke.
And then? Want more? My bffl Lua's bachelorette's party that we will plan nice and good.
Then we will have a friendship throw-back celebration time doing the exact same madness that we used to do when we were kids! We will make shirts with our names on them - the BLV shirts (Beta, Lua and Vika). We will drive the store owners mad by trying out all of their clothes and buying none. We will sit at the food court and make fun of funny looking people. We will be loud and obnoxious! Typical teenagers! But, hey, this is all about a throw-back, isn't it? Isn't it about celebrating the good'ol'times?
Then I will make shirts for my 2 brothers and I with the Jason Vorhees mask on them. A celebration of brother/sisterhood. And we will sit down and watch scary movies!
And then? Want more? There's more!!! There's the 15th b-day of my little bro JP.
What else? Then there's the knot-tying of my bffl Lua.
And, as if that was not enough, I will wander around the wonderful Northeastern beaches with the fam.
Come, come, June! You're a good month!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! TODAY IS YOUR DAY! WHAT A VERY SPECIAL DAY!
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Friend
Life is not fun without your friends. Life is not even worth living without your friends. It feels like you're dead. Look back at your most fond memories. Were you alone? Who was there with you? I bet it was a friend. I bet you were not alone.
I miss my friends.
I miss my friends.
Monday, September 06, 2010
My father is dying of cancer
My father is dying of cancer. And I have no idea what to do. I knew he had had surgery in the beginning of the year. And I saw him last time I went to Brazil. He looked so different than the way he looked at my wedding, 2 years ago.
But I don't call him much. I rarely talk to him. We don't have much in common. We don't even have much for a history together. Good memories are few, very few. Bad memories abound.
This is the guy who wanted to cheat his way out of paying child support by lying in court about his job situation, the guy who was never a part of my life for 12 years and suddenly tried to tell me my skirt was too short (!), the guy who claimed he had no money to help me out because he had a baby with another woman, the guy who said he had no money to come to my wedding - the wedding of his only daughter!
I don't have much to say to this guy. He never got really involved in my life, I never got really involved in his. Thanks to him I never knew what having a father was like. I will never know what having a father is like.
However now this man is dying of cancer. And I have no idea what to do. I know I should have called him more. But I never knew what to say.
About 2 months ago I found out he was going in for a second surgery. I called him on that day. I called him just to say I would be praying for him. What else could I say? I love you? I don't. I don't love him. I don't even know him. But he is my father. And something tells me I must check on him.
Does his poor job as a father excuse me to do a poor job as a daughter? And do I think he does not look back in his life an regret the ways he failed? Or do I think I am the only person on earth who is not destitute of the capacity of repenting or even regretting poor choices?
So I asked my middle brother Leo to keep me posted. And Leo kept me posted: "Everything went well." Then:"He is still in pain." Then:"He is coming back for another exam." ANd just last week: "The doctors said there's nothing else they can do. They will be just treating the pain."
And that's how I found out - My father is dying of cancer. This man I hardly know. This man for whom I have no feelings - good or bad. This man is my father. And he is dying of cancer. And whatever I don't do now, I will never have a second chance to make up for it.
I don't know what to do. And I don't know why I am crying now.
But I don't call him much. I rarely talk to him. We don't have much in common. We don't even have much for a history together. Good memories are few, very few. Bad memories abound.
This is the guy who wanted to cheat his way out of paying child support by lying in court about his job situation, the guy who was never a part of my life for 12 years and suddenly tried to tell me my skirt was too short (!), the guy who claimed he had no money to help me out because he had a baby with another woman, the guy who said he had no money to come to my wedding - the wedding of his only daughter!
I don't have much to say to this guy. He never got really involved in my life, I never got really involved in his. Thanks to him I never knew what having a father was like. I will never know what having a father is like.
However now this man is dying of cancer. And I have no idea what to do. I know I should have called him more. But I never knew what to say.
About 2 months ago I found out he was going in for a second surgery. I called him on that day. I called him just to say I would be praying for him. What else could I say? I love you? I don't. I don't love him. I don't even know him. But he is my father. And something tells me I must check on him.
Does his poor job as a father excuse me to do a poor job as a daughter? And do I think he does not look back in his life an regret the ways he failed? Or do I think I am the only person on earth who is not destitute of the capacity of repenting or even regretting poor choices?
So I asked my middle brother Leo to keep me posted. And Leo kept me posted: "Everything went well." Then:"He is still in pain." Then:"He is coming back for another exam." ANd just last week: "The doctors said there's nothing else they can do. They will be just treating the pain."
And that's how I found out - My father is dying of cancer. This man I hardly know. This man for whom I have no feelings - good or bad. This man is my father. And he is dying of cancer. And whatever I don't do now, I will never have a second chance to make up for it.
I don't know what to do. And I don't know why I am crying now.
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