Count your blessings

I wish I could be able to to make the people I love as happy as the feeling of love and admiration I have for them. I wish I could give them all they deserve. I wish they could feed off the knowledge of everything they are and never have one sad or boring day again. Just because they deserve to be recognized. And I wish each word of recognition was forever in front of them as an eternal memorial of the great people they are. The more I look at them, and think about them, and the more I compare them to this other person (myself), the more I want to tell them that they are greater than life, they are God's crown of creation, they are God's most amazing work of art. Three people are the ones who today I wish could live life all over again with one difference, everyone should give them the honor they deserve: My grandmother, my mother, my husband.

My grandmother - all too often that is all she ever was in my mind - my grandmother. She is so much more than that. She is a strong woman who one day became a mom and a grandma. I never had the pleasure to know the person she became from a little girl growing up in the late 30's and early 40's. Just as grandma in the 80's. But the more I know about her other life, the more I admire her as the woman she grew up to be one day. She had her youth dreams that I might never be able to hear about. She was married and widowed twice. She knew and dealt with love, disappointment and pain as a woman. She saw her children and grandchildren grow up and give themselves airs of know-it-all. She saw and argued the decisions they took that she felt were not the best. She was a girl watching her offspring develop into grown-ups. And her fears and hopes had to play a part in it, because she did have fears and hopes about those new people that came into her life, in the fullness of her young adult years. And so often, we, her offspring, looked at her as just mom or grandma, never as the person whose life was invaded but those little people she cared for and were running out of her control, making the life she hoped for them not exactly the way she once dreamed. And ignoring even that she was a real person. Ignoring even that she had her own dreams, fulfilled or unfulfilled. She knew by then a lot about her life that none of us knew about ours or hers. We so often forget that she is someone we might never fully know. She was someone we never met, someone she so often pushed aside to meet our needs and demands.

My mother - I can say the same thing about her. I wonder if strength of character is hereditary. My mom is a fighter. Now that I am as old as I remember herself being when I was a child, I can't help but thinking how everything came to be in her life. Life, of which I am just a piece, not, never, its center, even though she made it all about my siblings and me. She had a life before us that included just as many dreams or more than the ones I had, just as many media stars or more than the ones I had, just as many super BFFs or more as I had, as much drama or more than what I had. When she became a mom, her life went on, and all those things that were part of it, might have been overcast by her children. She was still the woman who lived that life, and her character, and her likes and dislikes, and her fears, and her experiences, they were all still there, making up the woman who now also was a mom, worker, ex-wife, daughter. Not, never, perfect. But with a strength of character bigger than the world. Just like her mom. Just like her mom, how often does her offspring recognizes her as a woman and not as mom? As a full person and not as only one social role she took upon herself to fulfill? Mom, a choice she made still as a teenager to be one of her goals in life, is still ONE choice, that SHE made, to be ONE OF her goals in LIFE. And we, as little self-centered kitties, never bother to see beyond that caregiver. We are all too involved in making sure that she gets what we need.

My husband - inevitably I look at what is wrong with him, what he is lacking, why can't he be more the way I think he should be. Inevitably I want him to live up to the standards I chose to be the ones that must be met. Yes, I thnk my standards are imporant. Yes, I am a thinking caring human being who loves that person and wants that person to be the best he can be. Yes, I have his best interest in mind and yes, his best interest is permeated by my ideals of what is good and why. So no, I don't think I am an awful person for setting standards I wish he would meet. But inevitably I learn how wrong I am about his complete inability to do what is right, loving, caring and responsible. Inevitably I see, through little windows that sometimes my brain opens, each and every little thing he does for our house, our family, our well-being, and even for the people we know. Inevitably I see through those windows, the feelings that I usually don't take the time to consider when deciding what I think is best for him. Haven't I always done that? Those windows often make me realize (not often enough) that the man I am so quick to judge in a negative light is the one without whom my life would spin out of control in ways I can't imagine. He is not a mirror image of me, nor should he be. He is not perfect, nor could he be. He and I might disagree in a number of ways what are the top priorities, but if we were just at agreement all the time, some things would just never get done, some subjects would never be talked about, we would not by any means make each other's life better, we would be nothing but shadows of each other, keeping each other company. He is a man that not only tries to make what is right for himself, but who is always looking out for us, and doing so with incessant love.

Planning and planners

I do believe I found something I really like to do and I am really good at - planning. I love to plan. I had a blast planning my wedding. I was absolutely absorbed by it and can't think of anything I liked more during m engagement with my husband.

After the wedding, planning was reduced to our budget, which I was put in charge of during our marriage-role planning. Hubby thought I did a good job as a saver, and I thought I really liked doing the whole financial planning. So we decided that I would be the person in charge of administering the money. I love it. It is not only about the control over what my husband does, which a lot of people could think of as the reason why I like to do it. Believe it or not, I could care less if my husband never told me how he spends his money. It is about the control over the future goals. I know that in so much time we will be able to spend so much money in such and such things. I know that by the end of such time our savings will have yielded so much percent. And I know exactly where the money to pay bills and groceries will come from. I have it all planned out. And my plans are virtually flawless.
Not saying that my organization skills are great. It weren't for Dean, my spreadsheet would look absolutely unintelligible to any human being. Sometimes making it userfriendly is not my strong suit. But making plans fool proof is my passion and my goal in life. Shortly after the wedding, I found myself other exciting planning activities - trips. Oh yes, trip plannings have become my new mania. Not only long vacation trips, but weekend get aways, day trips, get-togethers, all of this has become almost like a hobby to me.
The trip to California (which was our belated honeymoon), was super-carefully planned. Did the plans get followed literally? Not really; which goes to show that I am an awesome planner. But living is learning and I learned to plan to fool proof it against lack of plan-checking.
Not only the trip to Cali was carefully planned, but also the trip of my aunt and grandma to our home. Day by day, hour by hour. And from all that planning I learned that realistic time allotting is extremely important to plans. Another thing to improve. Again - Live and Learn.
I have now been planning 3 future trips and many small day trips, and the planning must go on.
I also like to plan my classes and I am always trying to adjust something that went wrong from last planning. Things don't go as great when I don't write down enough details. But they also don't go as great when I write too many details.
I am learning to find a balance.
It is fun to plan. It is also a life long learning experience, because I am always learning about something I can improve.
I love it.
I can not help but related it to God, the perfect planner, because He is the one that ultimately plans all things. He had my plans before I did, and he had also planned out the outcome of my plans - the ones that succeeded and the ones that failed. His plans never fail. And that is how come I know He is in absolute control, not me. His plans are so perfect that even when I try to mess with them by making up my own perfect plans, things still come up the way He planned. And I must accept and be thankful for them, because they truly are the best option possible.
May God grant me the grace to always accept His plans, even when that means that mine will be thwarted.

It Looks Like Christmas Outside

When the Winter arrived this year it had been snowing for 3 days straight.
It was a fine fluffy snow that made everything look very beautiful outside.
it was the first huge storm of the year. Before that we had some snow fall during the night 2 Sundays before, that was gone by noon. And 2 Sundays before that one, some snow fell during church, but it did not even leave its mark, for it melted right away.

the first real snow of the season started 2 days before the Winter arrived, and it continued throughout its arrival date.

As much as I don't like cold weather, as much as I hate driving in the snow, as much as I would love to be outside in T-shirt and put on my bikini for a day at the beach more than anything else in the world, I have to admit it -Winter did arrive with all its beauty and majesty, and it looks like Christmas outside.

Life Happened

Life is what happens to us while we make other plans... I am not sure if that was an A. Einstein sentence.
but that changed my life somewhat.
No, I am still a big time planner. But I frequently remind myself to live for the present.
The funny thing is, the plan I treasured the most my whole life has already happened. I just got married. And even though I still have so many plans and dreams, everything seems reachable now.
No I did not have the fancy wedding so many girls spend their lives planning (even though I am planning one for this coming August).
It was a simple ceremony, but it was indeed my wedding day.
Everything looked a little surreal on that day. And as I was saying the vows I was still trying to convince myself it was really happening.
Frequently my boyfriend and I referred to the fact that we felt like children, but we knew that people looked at us as adults. what now? Now he is my husband. I still feel like a child, and now I am a wife. Now there is no way anyone will not see me as an adult. Yikes! do I act any older than 17?
Life happened fast. my mind is still in my childhood and teenage games, but now they are real games.
the funny thing is, the kids who are real kids today think that whatever happened when I was a kid happened so long ago. really it was not that long. but when you're eight, 20 years ago is long enough to make up for an eternity. I know that because I was 8 once, and I remember 10 would never come.

well it doesn't really matter what everyone else feels about facts of my life. I'm still trapped in it. I'm still trapped in my games and dreams and blackmail and cheats and strategies to win the race. I like to think of everything as a game. And anything that is not a game is homework, and that is boring.
I'm still very much the same kid and every dream come true is just another toy to play with. and every thing that gets in the way is just another boring day of school.
But I am married now. Maybe that will make grow up. maybe one day I will feel like I am really an adult, the adult people might see when they look at me.
it feels so freaking funny, when people look at me and treat me as an adult. It feels like a make-believe game. I feel like I will go home and tell mom how I tricked this lady at the grocery store into letting me sign her credit card!!!!
Maybe ... if I repeat it enough it will happen. I will grow up. But I don't think I want to. I like being a kid. especially now that the world is my playground and dreams have begun to come true.
Now the fun has just begun. I really like being a kid, I think I will stay a kids for a little while longer.

My prayer

I ask god for my health because of those who love me, not so much because of me.
Everytime I go out to work, everytime I feel something hurting, I just think of the people that care about me, and that would feel so much if they could never see me again.
I know I am now immortal, though I wish I can outlive anyone that will cry for me. I think of my mom... my 3 other moms, my little brother who idolizes me for some unknown reason, my big brother who cares in a very particular way, and my boyfriend - who drove 4 hours a day for 2 whole weeks when I was at the hospital.
Whenever I am driving, or taking the train, or walking on the dark, whenever I feel any sort of unidentified pain, it's for them that I worry. And it is for them that I pray. Please God, keep me safe so that my brother won't cry, and so my mom can talk to me just one more time, so that my boyfriend won't suffer for losing me. I am not important to anyone else, but to them I am so dear - I don't want to cause them this pain. I don't ask so much for me. but for them. I know if I die I will be with you, but being so far from the ones who love me, I just want them to know they can talk to me and see me, and that I am safe.
Keep them safe too. And this I ask for me. Because I love them so much, I don't want bad things to happen to them. Please, keep us safe, so we can see each other once more, and happy and healthy.

it was 11 years ago today.

11 years ago
I lived in Feira de Santana
I was in my last year of high school
I was 17 and I had so many dreams.
And on this day I was going to Sao Rafael hospital, dressed in one of my favorite dresses, after making sure the new baby's room was ready for him.
11 years ago, that little kid entered my life, stole my heart away.
11 years have gone by - baby, toddler, little boy. 11 years ago he was born. Now he is almost a teenager. it is so hard to believe it.

big crush

Big news is Renee Zellweger has a
big crush on Paul McCartney and she is so
big time embarrassed of saying it!
Big deal! I also have a
big crush on Paul. Who
big-freaking doesn't ?

does it matter?

I guess what makes me a grown-up is that now people think what I do or say matters. Even though I am not sure half of what I say or do is really good for anything. Most of the times I am just copying other grown-ups I have come across. A lot of times I am copying teenagers I 've come across. A lot of times I am just trying to sound normal, you know, fit in. That's why I copy. Right? Isn't that why you copy your classmate's homework? To pass by a normal student?

A thought really just frightened me... since what I do now matters, then someone will eventually copy me? I am not sure I am copying material here.
Is it just me or are we all copying? Soooo! So the world is a big prented game and we're all playing grown-ups like we saw our grown-ups do before us!? And they... they were also playing pretend!? Oh, ok, I think I want my mommy now.

Let's go back

I've been reading about Paul mcCcartney and that somehow took me in a trip back to the past. Back to the little fiction novel I wrote about the Beatles some 15 years ago.

It's a little scary when I think about it... 15 years ago? I was 12. Has it really been that long? How come I don't feel that way? But when I really think about it, it has been that long. So much has happened. And the last 3 years of my life have been such a blur. Coming to the U.S. , leaving so much behind, did something to me. Something I am not sure I like. Time went by even faster! It goes by too fast when you're alone, I figure.

It is funny how I spent so many years trying to be a grown-up and now I feel like I am the same kid I have always been. And I enjoy that kid much more than the grown-up thing. And yet, it seems like I am indeed a grown-up to the rest of the world. ... gee, that's confusing.

I enjoy being silly, watching cartoons, going to Six Flags and Cedar Point, swinging in the swingset. I love telling jokes and eating popcorn, watching scary movies and going to the mall to watch people. Love talking silly and pretending "I am not your friend anymore". I am still the same kid that can only think about the food court as soon as I set foot at the mall, I still crave for attention but want to run away when all eyes are on me. Still intimidated by anyone older than 17, cuz they're all so much smarter than me! And thank goodness I have a boyfriend, cuz I am still cluesless about how to get one!

I guess what makes me a grown-up is that even though I still like all those things I can't do them as much bc so much stuff gets in the way now. All the stuff I've always wanted to be part of my life is now a big burden I have to deal with. For so long I longed for reality to free me from my world of dreams. Now I am locked up in reality and can't go back.

Life's worries sort of took the place of something I've always resorted to so often. There was a place I used to go to inside my mind filled with anything I wanted. I don't go there that often anymore. Quite honestly, I am not sure I can still open the door to that place. Absent-minded as I am I guess I locked the door with a huge lock to make sure nothing would do it harm, and I ended up losing the freaking key. I don't create much anymore. And reality is so boring, like and old black and white silent movie. Without Fantasia to resort to, it is pretty much the Kingdom of Nothing, where all kids die of boredom by 24.

I wish I was inside my book, so I could really go back in time.

the green is back

it took a while.
April had snow storms.
I was beginning to think Spring would never arrive.
but a couple of weeks ago I could finally see green dots on the tips of the trees branches. And the thermometer finally began to stabilize above 60 F.
yes, Spring is finally here.

I am glad winter is gone. it won't be missed.

Remembering Ayrton Senna da Silva

May 1st, 1994.
it was 13 years ago. it was Sunday. And on that morning something happened that would change my world. As well and the world of thousands of fellow Brazilians.
Our hero, Ayrton Senna died.
I can still re-live the moments of that tragic Sunday.
It was my first year living in Feira de Santana. I was at aunt Inaja's house. Getting ready for church with mom and my brother.
Like any other Sunday morning in which Senna had a race, i would get dressed in front of the TV.
And as I got dressed i saw the fatal crash.
I got upset. it hadn't been a good season for Senna so far. I remember announcing, "let's hope that Allan Proste crashes too."
But then a funny uncomfortable feeling began to spread within.
"Guys, why is there so much blood on the ground? Where are the doctors? Why is he not moving? Mom, he's not moving."

The doctors finally came; and then it was time to leave for church.
Well, I thought the doctors woudl take care of it, though I did think it was something serious by then, something that would probably ruin that year season.

Back at home for the whole afternoon we watched for newsflashes.
It was at around 5 pm that we heard a broken-hearted Globo TV reporter say "Ayrton Senna da Silva is dead - news I wish I never had to give - Ayrton Senna da Silva is dead."

And we cried.

That was it. The dream was over. Our hero, our myth, our idol was dead. If someone ever asks me for a landmark, this is it: "Ayrton Senna da Silva [the man who was proud of Brazil and made Brazil proud of him] is dead." And a whole way of organizing the world ended right there. My childhood ended right there. it was the beginning of a new chapter in my life. A chapter with a few less dreams, and few more thoughts that life was not so magic or eternal after all. Now there was also death - and death was real.

13 years ago today. Sunday. We will never forget.

Dragged to death

I can't find words. I can't let go either. What happened so deeply attacks my humanity that I just can't help feeling robbed of something very precious. Maybe dignity. I lay my head on the pillow and I can't fall asleep. I wish I could never smile again. How can we have gone so low?

All I can say is that I do not have the words to describe such monstrosity. Or how I am feeling now. A couple of teenagers carjacked a family in Rio, but only the mother and her 12 year-old girl were able to leave the car. The little 6 year old boy got stuck to the seat belt, on the outside of the car. The monsters zigzagged the car for about 4 miles, dragging the little kid along, in an attempt to get rid of him, only to abandon the car and the boy's lifeless body in some deserted road and run away.

It has been reported that passers-by and drivers yelled and honked at them begging them to stop the car, but, of course, in vain.

"Lord God of the disfavored, " making mine poet Castro Alves' words, "tell me, Lord God, if is madness... or is it true so much horror under the heavens."

It's 3 am. I can't sleep tonight. I can't get my mind off of the terrible moments that mother and sister went through, feeling so completely powerless and torn. Or off of the horror that little boy went through on the seconds before his death. And off of those monsters! I hope they die a very cruel death in jail. Because even criminals have moral standards that are attacked by such atrocity.

How can anyone kill a defenseless child is already hard to understand. How can anyone drag a little boy to death, not for revenge or any thing that would make it explainable. Bad enough but explainable. But to rob a car. How can respect for human life have fallen so far down the pit!

The freaks, the monsters, they been caught. They will go to jail. And thanks to the 1001 flaws in our judicial system, they will be out in no longer than 6 years, maybe as little as 3. One of them, under-aged, is protected by so many laws and will be out in the streets again by the time he is 20, his whole life ahead of him, a mind filled with hatred and all the tricks learned at the juvenile hall.

Little 6 y.o. Joao Fernandes will never see the sunrise again. His mom will never hear his voice again, never able to hug him or feel his little hand in hers. Never even able to be angry at him for some foolish boyish misbehavior. She will never see her son grown up, because he no longer exists. And those awful moments will forever be in her mind. The bitter feeling of not being able to do anything as you watch your child die.

My mom and I have been mugged once and dragged down the hill that lead to our condo. I still remember the feeling of panic. It's dark, you heart pumping super fast, not knowing what will happen next, your worst fears can't find a way to express themselves, you try to scream but nothing comes out of your mouth! A second ago everything was fine. And then you watch them run away with your pocket book. Thank God, we're alive.

Last Wednesday night, I can only imagine, those familiar feelings of mine were the same shared by the Fernandes family. But their worst fears did come true.

As his coffin went down, yesterday afternoon, at Jardim da Saudade graveyard, his sister could not help the words, "I am sorry I could not save you, brother."

When we talk about total depravity at church, i always think of lies, sexual impurity, drugs and robbery. you would wish even the worst human being would still be careful towards a little child, or a defenseless family. It feels like there should be a limit, and yet, you come across things like that.

.... And yet, God loved us.

------ In Portuguese:

Não consigo achar as palavras. Nem tampouco consigo esquecer. O ocorrido tão profundamente ataca minha humanidade que não posso evitar sentir-me roubada de algo muito precioso. Dignidade talvez. Deito minha cabeça no travesseiro e não consigo adormecer. Queria jamais poder sorri novamente. Como podemos ter chegado tão baixo?

Tudo que posso dizer é que não tenho palavras para descrever tamanha monstruosidade. Ou como estou me sentindo agora. Dois adolescentes roubaram o carro de uma família no Rio, mas apenas a mãe e sua filha de 13 anos conseguiram sair do carro. O garotinho de 6 anos ficou preso ao sinto de segurança pelo lado de fora do carro. Os monstros ziguezaguearam com o carro por cerca de 7 QUILÔMETROS, arrastando a criança com eles, na tentativa de livraram-se dela, para simplesmente abandonar o carro e o corpo sem vida da criança, logo depois numa rua deserta e fugirem.

Foi reportado que transeuntes e motoristas gritavam e buzinavam implorando para que eles parassem, mas, obviamente, em vão.

"Senhor Deus dos Desgraçados, " faço minhas as palavras do poeta, "dizei-me vós, Senhor Deus, se é loucura... ou se é verdade tanto horror perante os céus."

São 3 da manhã. Não consigo dormir. Não consigo tirar a cabeça dos terríveis momentos que aquela mãe e irmã viveram, sentido-se tão impotentes de roubadas. Ou do horror pelo qual passou aquele menininho nos segundos que antecederam sua morte. Nem daqueles monstros! Espero que eles morram uma morte bem cruel na cadeia. POrque mesmo criminosos tem padrões morais que foram atacados por tal atrocidade.

Já é difícil de entender como alguém pode matar uma criança indefesa. Como alguém pode arrastar um garotinho até a morte, não por vingança ou algo assim, que fizesse a coisa ao menos explicável. Muito ruim, mas explicável. Mas para roubar um carro! Como pode o respeito pela vida humana ter caído tão fundo nesse poço?

As aberrações, os monstros, foram presos. Irão para a prisão. Mas graças às 1001 falhas do nosso sistema judicial, estarão nas ruas em não mais de 6 anos, talvez até mesmo em 3. Um deles, menor, é protegido por um sem-número de leis e estará de volta às ruas antes dos 20, com tuoda sua vida pela frente, uma mente cheia de ódio e todas as artimanhas aprendidas no reformatório.

O pequeno João Fernandes nunca mais verá o sol nascer. Sua mãe jamais ouvirá sua voz outra vez, jamais poderá abraça-lo ou sentir sua mãozinha na dela. Jamais poderá sequer ficar aborrecida com ele por alguma desobediência boba de menino. Ela nunca verá seu filho crescer, pois ele não mais existe. E aqueles momentos horríveis estarão para sempre em sua mente. O amargo sentimento de não poder fazer nada ao assistir seu filho morrer.

Minha mãe e eu fomos assaltadas certa vez, e arrastadas na ladeira que levava a nosso apartamento. Ainda lembro o sentimento de pânico. Está escuro, seu coração a mil por hora, sem saber o que vai acontecer em seguida, seus medos mais terríveis não conseguem se expressar, você tenta gritar mas nada sai de sua boca! A um segundo atrás estava tudo bem. E então você os vê correndo com sua bolsa. Graças a Deus, estamos vivas.

Quarta passada, posso apenas imaginar, aqueles sentimentos conhecidos foram compartilhados pela família Fernandes. Mas seus piores medos tornaram-se reais.

Ao ver seu caixão descer, ontem a tarde no Jardim da Saudade no Rio, sua irmão não pode evitar as palavras, "Desculpa não ter podido te salvar, irmão."

when there was me and you

It's funny when you find yourself
Looking from the outside
I'm standing here but all I want
Is to be over there
Why did I let myself believe
Miracles could happen
Cause now I have to pretend
That I don't really care

I thought you were my fairytale
A dream when I'm not sleeping
A wish upon a star
Thats coming true
But everybody else could tell
That I confused my feelings with the truth
When there was me and you

I swore I knew the melody
That I heard you singing
And when you smiled
You made me feel
Like I could sing along
But then you went and changed the words
Now my heart is empty
I'm only left with used-to-be's
Once upon a song

Now I know your not a fairytale
And dreams were meant for sleeping
And wishes on a star
Just don't come true
Cause now even I tell
That I confused my feelings with the truth
Cause I liked the view
When there was me and you

I can't believe that
I could be so blind
It's like you were floating
While I was falling
And I didn't mind

Cause I liked the view
Thought you felt it too
When there was me and you

C-mas gift

My baby gave me Paul McCartney 2005 tour DVD for Christmas and I am so loving it!!!!

Meaning

Things seem to not have meaning anymore. I sit alone at home and I am not sure what is going on. Too much time in my hands, too many things I would like to do. No one to share all of these. My boyfriend seems to be the only person I can count on, for everything. Isn't there something wrong with that?
I don't have co-workers or classmates or students. I don't have a group of friends at church, the one place I always thought of as the place I'd meet my best friends - I don't feel like I belong there. The only church related thing I have been doing lately is tithing. I don't even feel like I am serving God. It gets really lonely when there's no point in anything. Even my dreams, that were always so real to me, are getting foggy and distant.
It was never meant to be like that.

all gone

Now the leaves are all gone from the trees. they will not come back till spring. So that is what the trees will look like till March. Bare. I will miss the green.

till morning

I had seen it happen before. Something was killing people, it was some sort of curse. Turning them into living dead. And it was in a small town, in the middle of nothing.

I had fled to another town and it was dusk when I got to the woods nearby. Some people came too. As we heard pretty much the same thing I had heard before, I knew it was going to happen again.

I tryied to warn the few people that were with me but they did not believe me. So instead of staying to see what would happen for that dreadful night, I figured if I stayed away from the crazy dumb crowd that likes to get killed by mesterious forces I would just check myself into a hotel nearby and wait till morning. Every curse goes away by morning, right.

Morning came too late.

Some one had seen me running down to the hotel. there were two ofthem only in that small town. I got to one of them and there were already people there to see the phenonmenon. What were they dumb?

The rooms were not exactly private. for each apt you had a common den and then doors to some 9 suites. That wasn't good. I knew it like to go after gatherings of people. The folks in my apt were friendly, but I knew that if we stayed awake it would soon come after us.

I saw myself of to my suite that ...had no wall separating me from this room were a mother and her little boy were staying!?!?! What a cheap prick gave me the key to that room! I had asked for a room not a freaking dorm!

But before I could get to bed, the thing hit the hotel. "It is here!" some one hollered. but there was no need, we heard the screams. getting out of there was hell, but I made it - not unnoticed though.

I tried checking into the hotel next door, but they were all dead. So I ran. The freaks chasing me up and down the cobblestone roads. I found the store of a man I had met in the hotel. He and his only employee were hiding there and I begged for mercy. He let me in and locked the gates back.

But it found us. It came through the gates. There was no hope left. And morning never came.

a girl's brothers

Anyone still doubt that I am madly in love with my brothers?

Even though the older one drives me insane some times with his crazy theories "about life and love and other mysteries"(eg. politics)?

As much as I tend to be attracted to guys that remind me of him, he is the most unique guy on Earth. I really admire that kid.

A lot of times we disagree. Some times I just do not seem to grasp his thoughts. Sometimes I think he is just being childish. I remember the days when I was the one that would put ideas in his mind. Those days are over. he is the one who tries to put ideas in my mind - I feel that I know so little when he starts talking to me.

As for the little one, having missed his past 2 1/2 years, I can just hope that he becomes quite a man. He has a great role model. His brother has been putting him in the right track. Including movies - Matrix, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars (books and movies). And he is really smart, fun, and sweet.

He looks up to me too. For how long will that last? And why on Earth does he think I am so great? ...

I always indulged him in boyish things. Gross songs, candy after hours, gifts ( I am always trying to get him the gift that will make him forget everyone else's, and I am usually right) And we had lots of fun making fools out of ourselves last time I was there. He just hasn't yet lost that innocence which makes him not mind looking silly. He has a playmate in me, for I have no sense of ridiculous.

What am I to say?
I am just in love with those guys!

Who actually believes Heather Mills?

She wants his money , isn't that obvious?

Who actually believes that Paul McCartney, the sweetest, cutest, hottest man on Earth would have actually abused her? Stabbed her?????? IS SHE OUT OF HER FREAKING MIND?????

Ah, if only Paul had listened to his children and not married that 49er, GOLD DIGGER!!!!

The Die Hard Trio

I am not really sure how to start this posting... I would like to do justice to what it really is about, but anything I think of saying sounds too vulgar...

It was Beta, Lua and Vika - the Die Hard trio... not a musical trio, someone called us that bc we were inseparable three friends.

Our friendship was the most special thing that ever happened to me.

We met at age 14 (Beta was 13), I was living in a different city, bc mom had moved to her hometown with us. Those were crazy years, there was so much was going on, and we felt like we had so much in common, and yet each one of us was so unique.

We shared the love for the Beatles and... for a few guys... hahaha.
We shared our non-stop talking habit, our being always late for everything habit, and our lack of tolerance for our mistakes in other people than ourselves habit.
We shared friend jealoussy, the kind that gets possessive; hang out places; non-conformist philosophies of life; a passion for long psychlogical explanations for every single thing we did (...yeah... let's face it, we were a little weird).
And so much we shared, in those years that seemed to last forever.


Whatever happened to those years? Whatever happened to us?


On the year I turn 27, I realize that I still feel 16, that I still refuse to believe that " best friends " is something that is only for children, and that today I have this huge hole in my heart in the place that once belonged to that friendship.


" What happened? " Some one would ask. " 'The apple has gone bad'. that's what happened." I don't know how or why, it just happened.

We never meant things to be like this, but as I said, we thought those years to be everlasting. And they were not.

Today it is only Lua and I. Whatever happened to Beta? No one really knows. "she just decided to leave," is what I 'd rather think, but it is never just the simplest, easiest reason.

So it is only Lua and I, but even so, I have left as well. Distance has not overcome our friendship, but it has changed it in a way we probably never meant it to be changed.

I want to say that Lua and I will always be best friends. But how much will it change? What will it mean? How much has it changed already?

I am still ridiculously jealous of her. My friends know I am jealous, but Lua has certainly experienced the worst of it. And I still repeat the same words I have said 10 years ago... time will pass, boys will come, life will happen, but our friendship will remain forever.

The Freaky Inn

Wow, I just woke up and here I am trying to make the dream I had make sense.
There were some dead kids in it and... it was like a (whatelse is new) like a movie. It was a bit like those scary movies in which a bunch of people get themselves in trouble, but it was smarter, bc there was actually some mystery that had to be solved.

Ok, Dean, and I, and Jim, my aunt Lea, Marcus, and my little brother JP, who is 9.

I wonder why such a crazy crew got put together. Dean is my boyfriend. Jim is one of the best friends I have here in the U.S. . Auntie Lea is my favorite aunt. JP, I miss him more than life. But how did Marcus get in the story? Maybe bc he's been posting idiotic messages in the e-group; the guy is smart , can't deny that, but lately he's been a pain (in case you are reading this blog , Marcus, gee, sorry, man, but , but, but your emails are really sounding a little annoying, and I honestly got tired of arguing since you don't ever seem to see my point).

Anyway, it was the day before Brazilian independence day. We had to go in this really old house. Apparently it was my idea. It was kind of an inn, and we had to spend the night there before Independence Day. I remember going into everyone's room to see what they had and I did not. (that sounds like me , doesn't it? "Why do you have a brand new air conditioner here and I don't?" "Why does your bedding feels nicer than mine?" Why is it that the grass is always greener on the other side, eh! )

But the inn was quite freaky. And someone pointed out that this was the same inn where, years ago, some kids had died, 2 boys and a girl around 10 to 12 years old. And it seems like the girl's body was missing. No one ever found out why.
"Let's find it out." I said. "Let's go see the children."
Well, the way to the basement was blocked, but we did find our way down there, and found the two boys. We began to put the pieces of the puzzle together and found out how the kids got killed. Now, in my dream it made perfect sense... just that i do not remember it anymore. But the story was so freaky. Some crazy man, some sort of revenge or madness... Gee I really really do not remember. Some wild animal...? ... Now I am losing the thread.

But I was so upset because the girl's body was missing. "We have to find her, so she can rest in piece."

We went around the house getting clues and getting into traps, and we did find the girl's body, which I wanted to bury, but the rest of the gang said it wasn't right. I think my aunt said that. She had to be put with the other boys. "They all died together, they have to all stay together in death," something creepy like that. It made sense to me though. "Let's do it, guys!"

See, there was something about this girl that I really identified with. I think it was the fact that she was the only girl in a group of boys. That was always the case with me - it was always the boys and I. I remember my grandma complaining about that when I was little; she kept saying how I did not behave like a young lady. Gee, me - young lady? Let's face it... uh... no, never been one, always a tomboy.

So, to me she was a little version of me, and the more we found out about their tragic adventure, the more I thought how similar that was to the bunches of adventures my friends and I had wanted to get ourselves into. I sort of wanted her not to be dead. When we did find her body, I was heartbroken. That was not fair. And yes, there was some weird link between the two of us, bc I felt and saw weird things that led to our understanding their death.

"Let's get this over with."
We took the little girl to the basement and put her with the 2 litte boys, and I remember saying, "no child should have to die like that. They did not even know what killed them."

I started crying and Dean hugged me, and I think Marcus said we should get out of there asap, so no one would know we had gone there. No one? No one dead or alive? I think there was some haunting twist to the story, cuz I remember sort of feeling these cold shivers and we would be like, "what was that?" and sort of hoping that there was no curse related to it, or that their killer would not come after us... something crazy like that.

We ended up going to Jim's room... or JP's room? Whatever. We sat there and ate treats till we fell asleep. My guess is that we were all too scared to leave the room, bc I remember we were all talking about what would happen from then on, and how we should leave as soon as the sun was up, and all the time we were like "where's JP?" "Did you hear that?", and making nervous jokes, and, in the morning, when I opened my eyes, the lights were all on. Everybody had fallen asleep in the exact same position they were since the moment we walked into the room, no one had dared to move a muscle.

I woke up and saw that outside there was bright sunshine.

"Come on, people, come on, it is time to go! We will miss the parade!"

My aunt, Jp, Marcus and I grabbed a bunch of BRazilian flags and left the Inn. We took my car. I remember my aunt commenting on what a cute little car I had. Dean and Jim did not come... of course... Brazilian independence day. I don't know where they went, but we would meet them later somewhere else.

I guess that was it.

Simplified Spelling?

I was just readingthis article about the puch for simplified spelling. Tha article talks about the pros and cons of a more phonetic spelling, and about the movement in favor of a reform in English ilogical spelling.

It is an amazing topic to discuss, and I believe there are many advantages to a simpler spelling,but I have to agree with one of its opponents when he says that it is too much trouble for what it is worth. It is too much trouble because you cannot simply push a spelling reform down a people's throat. That would end up consfusing everyone's mind. Spelling changes happen naturally and gradually.

Radical changes only confuse the learners who are working hard to understand and solidify the rules they learned and are getting used to them, and the speakers of the language who already have an established idea of how sounds and letter combinations work. For instance donut instead of doughnut, thru instead of through. These changes were not imposed by a reform, some people just started using them and today they are pretty much accepted. They are not official spellings yet, but they are accepted and easy to understand at a first glance. They usually start entering dictionaries when they start being accepted in the academic world and used by writers.

A radical reform would confuse because it would simply disrupt the way people are used to reading and thus make the act of readig anything a task of decyphering phonetic sounds. Just pay attention to what happens when a child who is learning how to spell brings the grown up a piece of paper with a few letter jotted down - we have a hard time figuring out the words, because our eyes will look for the system we have in our minds.

Besides, pronounce changes from place to place, from state to state, from north to south, we all know that. The kids that are learning how to spell, will often spell using their region common pronounce. Which pronounce would be the offically chosen one massacrating and terminating all others in a very unfair elitism?

Language is something that belongs to the people, and it changes with the people. It can not be legislated upon by a small group, changed as pleased, and then announced as the "new way". CHanges happen, since the natural tendency of all of us humans is to simplify our language. it is the case with internet lingo (u, bc, r), it is the case with words that are not used anymore for being too long or too clumsy, it is the case with certain irregular past tenses and plurals. That happens in any language, as we have a lot of this in Brazil too. Just like spoken language changes, so does written language, but in a slower pace, keeping track of the past. Written language is language's way to save its history.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060705/ap_on_re_us/simpl_wurdz

McCARTNEY and the magic age! Happy Bday , Paul

So today Paul finally turned 64.
"will you stsill need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64?"
Yes, Paul, absolutely. Too bad that "now that [you're] alone again", I'm not living in Liverpool.
Gee I know, 64 years old, it is kind of sick of me to say that, but "I'm so in love with you".

Sampling the Engineers

Hey, mom, I've got a car. For a long time that was all I wanted to have. And hey, mom, I have a boyfriend too. And for a long time I thought that was all I wanted to have.
But hey, hey mom, something got left behind. For a long long time I knew exactly what I had to do.
But now out there, everyone is an island, miles and miles and miles away from anywhere... in this land of giants, where they sell lives for diamonds, where their youth is a band in a fastfood tv commercial.

weekend in the park by Racionais MCs

They would also like to have a bike, and that they could see their dads jogging, just like athletes; they'd like to go to the park and have some fun, and that someone would teach them how to drive. But all they want is piece and even that is a dream.

I believed

Once upon a time I believed in a lot of things. And I believed things did not have to be the way everyone said they were supposed to be.
But, in the end, what I believe does not really matter.

PAUL McCARTNEY is mine! Luana, stay away from him!

PAUL McCARTNEY DIVORCED THAT GOLD DIGGER CRIPPLE ANTI-MINE MILITANT WHAT'S HER FACE!!!!!!!

I KNEW IT !!! I KNEW IT!!!! HE IS IN LOVE WITH ME!!!

DO NOT BELIEVE MY BEST FRIEND IF SHE SAYS HE IS IN LOVE WITH HER!!! Luana, stay away from him, he has always been in love with me!

http://people.aol.com/people/articles/0,19736,1194872,00.html

"She said"

"she said" is a Beatles song. She knows what it is like to be dead.

"toda a felicidade da vida eh pouca se nao for dividida" (all the hapiness in the world is nothing if it is not shared). Here I am, in the wealthiest country in the world, starving for lack of friendship. Having left my friends behind for a dream, what have I really gained? I am only 26 and I feel like my life is already over. "She said, I know what it's like to be dead."

If you visit my blog regularly you'll find something new that I had accidentally saved as a draft before my car accident. Now I finally published it. I was away from bloggin for a while bc of the accident that happened on ... Hey! Who are you???? Let me write !!!!!! I have an obbligation to my readers!!!!!

DUE TO CONTRACTUAL OBBLIGATIONS, THIS NETWORK, I MEAN, THIS BLOG, IS NOT ALLOWED TO REPORT ON THE ACCIDENT THAT HAPPENED TO THE AUTHOR OF THIS BLOG, AND IT IS THEREFORE BEING CENSORED.

THAT IS AN EXTREMELY UNFAIR THING THAT HAPPENS IN THE WORLD OF JOURNALISM AND COMMUNICATIONS: NOTHING THAT DISPLEASES THE OWNER OF THE NETWORK, I MEAN BLOG, IS ALLOWED TO BE AIRED.

WELL, WHO SAID LIFE IS FAIR? OUR CURRENT WRITER WILL BE FIRED AND PROSECUTED, AND THE PUBLIC WILL PAY THE PRICE OF THIS GREED WITH IGNORANCE!!!! MUAHAHAHAH!

Snow! That too!

I just finished reading the text I wrote about scary movies... I love being able to laugh at myself.

Anyway, the whole scary movie thing reminded me of another scary thing that happened when I was trying to get home from Dean's house, back in the days I'd go back to sleep over at a friend's in New Haven, instead of staying over in MA.

(Hey, Dean baby, I know you like to read my blog, so you'll remember this story).

It was time to go home, and then the old discussion was taking place:

"It is really late. You know you can stay over, right?"

"Are you out of your mind?! What is my mother going to say if she finds out I slept over at a guy's house! WHOA, at my boyfriend's house! That's even worse!"

"It is snowing, I'm sure she'll understand. Doesn't your mother trust you?"

"No, that's not the point. that, uh, it is not the ... point. it is just wrong. it is, you don't, you don't do that. You don't sleep over at a man's house, if you're a woman. Especially if the man is your boyfriend. You don't do that. My whole family will freak out."

(Back then Dean did not have the bad habit of calling me OLD, taht's why I said "woman", not "girl". And hey, old is your mother by the way. I'm a girl)

Well, we went on and on, and as usual I am repeating the same argument over and over again, bc... I am very good at repeating my arguments when I have nothing else to back them up with.
And finally, "let me just get out of here, before the snow gets too thick."

That was back in the days I could not figure out how to defog my windows. Neither could the reall onwers of the car. They still can't figure out their own cars. So, I used to drive with the window down, till my friend Bill figured that out for me.

And I called Bill just to let him aware I was driving to his place to spend the night. "there's a lot of snow here, so if I don't make it in 2 hours, call the police please."

Bill is ... married. And I am also friends with his wife. And they have a guest room. I usually sleep over at their place when I need to stay in New Haven overnight.

Well, back to the story - I made it to the first toll booth, and kept on driving. Window open just a little bit, bc the snow was really falling.... and guess what... I could not see a thing. Well, I could see one thing: WHITE! Everything around me was white. The road, the side of the road, the grass... everything... and I hadn't smoked anything weird that night, I wasn't high or anything.

Oh, wait, if everything is white... how do I know I am even on the road? That question startled me. Where am I? Where I am going? Where do I come from? oh! ...no... not that one... I know where I'm coming from!

I started driving really slow..., so slow that a plow truck began to honk behind me. "Run me over , freak, I am not moving out of the way!" Well, he did not run me over... but he did pass me.

Well, enough is enough. pulled over, (i think I pulled over), put emergency lights on, got on the phone.

"Dean! COME AND RESCUE ME! I can't drive, I can't see, I can't go anywhere."

"... ok... where are you?"

"I am!... i... i... I DON'T KNOW!!!!!!! Everything is white!"

"... Ok... now... how far away are you?"

"i,i,i,i got past the ... thingy! the ticket booth! the first one, I'm somewhere on... I-90. It's all white! I pulled over, I have my emergency lights on, I'm freaking out, I'm not moving out of here! COME AND RESCUE ME!"

"How far on I 90, baby? which exit?"

"ME NOT KNOW! it is all white! no signs, only white snow falling. Are you coming?"

"All right, can you keep moving the car, out of the road, to an exit?"

"I guess I can try. Are you coming? Are you coming? Are you coming?"

"I am, just get to an exit and call me and tell me where you are. "

"Ok, but please come, leave the house, now, and I will call you, and please answer your phone from the road."

I started moving the car, emergency lights on, and hey! I had gone as far as the toll booth to I-91! What do you know!
I handed the ticket to the booth person and went like, very seriously, "can I please stop somewhere? Because... my boyfriend ... is uh, coming to rescue me." Then I realized how funny that sounded and smiled. Guy smiled back probably thinking I was crazy,and pointed towards an employee's parking lot. Oh, am I fancy.

Dean arrives a few minutes later. I of course made my best "mommy, me got in trouble"-face, and said, "can I stay over at your place tonight? I am sure my family will understand."

The catch is - I never really left his house again. I would just stay over on weekends.

Wow, doesn't Paul McCartney (my real boyfriend... cuz Dean is just a cover up) have a similar story with his gf Jane? And he never left her house again... well, till they broke up. They broke up bc he was secretly in love with me. Even though I wasn't born yet. Never mind the fact that he recently married that crippled one-legged model, what's her face? He is still in love with me. He only married her bc I refused to move to Liverpool with him. It is true.

Scary Movies Aren't Real

OK!!! Scary movies aren't real! Can someone put that in my mind? It is not easy to convince this child. And it is getting harder. But see, what happens is that they are simply coming to life after I watch them.

There was this one time that I was over at Dean's, and we bought "The Exorcism of Mary Rose" to watch. In the movie there is something very freaky about the time 3 a.m. it is suposed to be the time of the devil. Well, ok. Who is awake at 3 am anyway? I never go that late.

Well, on that one night when we watched the movie, I was putting off driving back home (what else is new?) . That was the weekend of the huge blizzard. So, Dean drove me back to my car, that was in parking lot in Hamden. Well, my car was covered in snow. It took us a good half hour or more, at around 1 in the morning, to dig it out.

As usual, I was having a blast. "That's so cool! I am having so much fun! We should do this more often!"

Dean was not as excited. "Not at 1 in the morning. I still have to drive back home." Well, so? So did I.

After digging out my car, I drove home. The road was fine, but the streets in the city were awful, especially the ones closer to my house. My street had turned into a river of snow and there was no place to park.

It was around 2:50 a.m. . I began to freak out. "Darn! I want to be asleep by 3 a.m.!"

I obviously called Dean right away. He had been on the phone with me throughout the drive, so I'd not fall asleep> I called him again and asked him to stay on the line cuz I was so freaking scared.

I finally found a place to park... all the way down the street... at the corner... . And when I turned off the car and opened the door to get out, it was exaclty 3 a.m. And I still had to walk all the way back home in the middle of the snow, with a backpack on. The snow of course made everything look not so dark. "That's good!" you'd think. No, that's not good. That made things look even freakier.

Huge sigh. "Ok, I am a Christian, I have the Spirit of God, the devil can do me no harm. Besides," I kept repeating to myself "it is only a movie. There is not such athing as the devil 's time."

Well, I made it home. And only when I was in bed I hung up the phone. And put on that eye thingy so I'd not be tempted to look at the window.

Now, let's move a few weeks forward. Yesterday we went to the movies to watch "The Hills Have Eyes". Dean and I and a friend of his and his gf. According to Dean, "They say it is the scariest movie ever." I thought to myself, "it better be good. it better be freaking good. For anyone to make this kind of advertising, it better be freaking ridiculously good." And told him "It better make me really scared. That's too bold a claim to make."

Guess what - it is freaking good. The movie keeps you on your edge all the time. You better like strong emotions. Come on! I've watched scary movies my whole life. And I was single my whole life. I never needed anyone to hold on to. Yesterday I thanked God I had my boyfriend, bc I was so freaking scared!

Ok, Dean, if you are reading this - yes i do scream on scary movies, BUT I DON'T USUALLY CRY ON THEM!!!!!!!! No, not crying. I did cry on this movie. And it had nothing to do with my not being able to take food in.

Alright. Time to drive back home. After a while, right around where I-91 and Rt-15 meet, I begin to feel sleepy, so I get off the road to buy a caffeine drink at a gas station. It is around midnight, and I am not sure how to get back on Rt 15. Hey... what - else - is - new?

The gas station seems pretty busy. I leave my car unlocked, and walk into the store. Walk around for a few minutes, "drink, dr-ink, drink..... No drink?!? Freaking store!"

Then I look around, there's no one else left there but me. "Have I been here that long?" I go to the cashier. "Sir, please, how do I get back on Rt 15?"

He gives me a reply I can not understand. "Is he a foreigner?" I wonder.

I rephrase my question using I-91. Still can't understand his words, but I figure he is saying nothing of use.

"Can you please repeat that? I can't understand you."

As I take a good look at him to better decypher his words, My heart comes to a halt. He looks exactly like the gas station guy from the movie, the one that started the whole freaking nightmare!

Then I realized he can speak no English and keeps repeating words like "I new here, don't know".

Gr-eat, how close can this get to the story? only guy, ungly as hell, no info. Chivers up and down my spine.

"Thankyousirhaveagoodnight"

I rush out the store back to my car, the only car left.

"Holy s***!"

As I rush to open the car door, I remember to check the back seat. "Back seat! Back seat! Ok! good!" Keys, gear, pedal, adrenaline flowing freely in my blood circulation.

And the fog! Ok! two movies now! "The Fog" too. The fog on that night was so thick I could not see 2 yards ahead. "Please, God, let no one be hiding behind this fog. No weirdoes, no freaks of nature, no real or unreal creatures of darkness, none of these. Please. I'm from Brazil, I'm daughter of Guarani indians and African slaves, my ancestors never killed anyone. Ok, there is some Spanish, Portuguese and Dutch blood in my family, but we don't really like them."

As I pull out of that freaky gas station I see my salvation - another gas station across the street! A police officer at the store door, sipping some hot coffee! Aleluia!!!! I exchange some words with the police officer and go into the store. No caffeine drink. But some sugar-rich food like chocolate will do the trick.

Back in the car (not before cheking the back seat), the cop wishes me a good drive and the feeling of being back to the real world was the most comforting thing ever.

Scary movies, though, are still my favorite thing.

Spiced Chicken Sandwich

The TV commercial for the new McDonald's Chicken Spiced Sandwich is histerical.
And it really made me wanna try it.
Next time I go out with Dean, we gotta do fast food.

Fear of the Dark

Fear of the Dark is a cool movie.
It is a scary movie, but if you're not a fan of the genre don't discard it. It appeasl a lot to our childhood.
It deals with a little boy's fear of the dark. He sees things that are not there in the light. Shades, shadows, shapes. Just like we all do. But we do know that it is our imagination that turns those shapes, shades and shaddows into living creatures.
In the movie they are real. The dark exists as an entity, as a different world. Our belief gives it power.

super hero

So I definetely like to write down my dreams... erh, the cool ones at least.

Last night I was super hero. You know one of those cool modern ones, more like an improved version of 007, like Kim Possible, or those teenagers from Totally Spies, with cute cell phones with super commands, and power glitter on my lips (the Diamond Shine from Loreal), cool hair-dos (the ones I try out in front of the mirror), and really cool outfits!

I was part of a team with 3 other girls. One of them was Samara (a crazy girl from my church in Brazil), but I don't remember who the other two were. One was possibly Luana (my best friend); and the other one I have not a clue, but she was really blond (no judgements please) and I know she was friends with Jim's girlfriend (a guy from my church in CT).

My brother Leo was our boss. He'd contact us via cell phone. And our cell phones would vibrate and send some sort of glittering light that would give us our super powers.

One Sunday after church we got a lead on a major crime we were trying to solve. My brother paged us and we got ready to hurry to the place in our super (guess what color) shiny pink convertible. But the blond girl had plans for lunch.
"Oh, I'm totally not coming today." She sounded as if I had called her to something as insignificant as coming over to watch a DVD.
"What do you mean you're not coming?"
"well, you know, my girl friend and her boyfriend are taking me out for lunch at this very cool place."
Want to see Vee mad? Remember school team work? Remember that kid that could never come for the meetings bc he was going away for the weekend with mommy and daddy and on the day of the presentation he'd want us to tell the teacher he participated and we, stupid as we were, said he did participate? That kid was the one I was just talking to. Or at least I was telling her everything I always wanted to tell that kid and never had the guts to do it. Yelling as loud and mean as I always wanted.
"WHAT ABOUT YOUR RESPONSIBILITIES FOR CHRISSAKE! we're a team for crying out loud! You can't just not come."
Answer came in abored voice:
"ah... can we do it later?"
I could feel blood going up my head. Got bossy as usual, let her do whatever she wanted, and went back to the other girls:
"She is out of the team. This just can't go on. She's out. I want her out. Period!"

So Jim happened to walk by. He probably noticed by our oufit that we were in some sort of mission and asked what was going on.
I sounded as serious and annoyed as I could:
"We are going to save the world. That girl, friend's with your girlfreind, she's the most shallow girl I've ever seen!"

"She is?"

"You should not let her hang out with you. She could care less! You know what she told me? That she could not come on our mission bc she was going for dinner with her best friend and her cool boyfriend! She is ridiculous!"

Cool boyfriend? ... she did not say that. Maybe I shouldn't have either. He was half serious half laughing. I'd be glad if someone said he was hanging out with me cuz I was cool. Who cares about saving the world?

"well, why don't you just kick her out of the team?"
Ok, analizing intentions in a dream - was he trying to help or glad the girl thought he was cool?
He seemed pretty amused with the whole situation, but not as if he thought I was nuts or anything (all that super hero talk in the real world would be enough for someone to lock me up). It more as if he was watching a movie.

"Arh! I don't know. I guess I'm just stupid. " heck-what-I-am-going-to-do-now look in my face. All of a sudden I managed, "We need a driver. How would you like to save the world for a day? It is really dangerous though. You totally don't have to, if you're afraid."

As crazy as it may seem, he agreed to it. Yeah, how many times does one get the chance of becoming a superhero for a day?

So there we went in our shiny pink car cruising down the road. Palm trees along side. ... some girl I know was on top of one of them playing a banjo. OK, that was just weird. But we were too busy trying to save the world you know... looking serious. We were girls in a mission.

I don't remember what the mission was though. Some bad guy, some little kids in trouble, Steven Spielberg type of stuff.

But, yeah, the last scene I remember I rather keep to myself.

It was good dreaming I was a cool looking super hero, with cool looking gadgets, a cool looking team, and a cool looking driver!

Christmas is boring

Christmas and any special days are really boring when you have no family to spend them with.
Holidays used to be so fun... I had my friends around and we used to do the wildest parties, get home the next day, after the sun was up...
Gee, my life used was a constant partying.
What happened? I just left them all behind... friends, family... not sure exactly why.

If you see a slave sleeping, do not wake him up. He might be dreaming of freedom

It's a quote my brother used to say in his "fight for the rights of the oppressed" days. Days in which he listened to rap and believed that the black people were to fight for their rights in society. And he, milk-white as he is, believed he was to be considered black because of our great-grandfather.

I was always very critical of everything he did at first, but completely embraced those things a little while later, becoming actually his greatest motivator.

He says that drives him crazy, but I tell him that's my prerogative of being a woman - I have the right to change my mind and start enjoying something I hated at first. And his prerogative as a man is to be understanding of this twist.

"If you see a slave sleeping do not wake him up. He might be dreaming of freedom"... He never really told me what that means, and my understanding is usually different from his...

(He is smarter than I. ... uh, well, I like to think I am still 15 months older and that entitles me some extra knowledge - not true though... We think differently and have our disagreements, but many times , I still think he is smarter... guys are naturally smarter, I guess.)

Anyway - I think the quote means: Freedom is the most precious thing a human being can have, because it gives him dignity. Without freedom we feel like we're not worth anything. And the poor slave has no feedom in his life. But he is at least free to dream. And in his dream he might believe he has freedom. So don't bring him back to crude and cruel reality. Let him have those few moments of freedom - even if it s only make-believe.

In a more philosophical approach -I believe that doesn't only go for slaves in real chains, but for all who live as slaves, deprived of meaningful things in life. Sometimes I feel that way. Maybe we all do at times.

Or - if you see a dreamer, somone who doesn't believe we have to comform to what it is, don't spoil his dream by talking to him about the reality of things - let him follow his dream. We never know where that road may go.

Crying

What is the matter with me? I can neither remember nor make sense out of the dream I had this past night. And yet, as I woke up, all I could do was cry for a good 2 hours.

All I can remember was that JP was in it. I woke up with the feeling he was mad at me.

Honestly I wasn't sure I would be able to make it through the day. I made myself stop crying so I could get ready for church, but every time I got something done, I'd sit back and start over.

At church everybody was talking to me, and I was acting happy and goofy as a usually do, flying around, being annoying, but... God, I just wanted to go home. I just wish I could. I just wish I could hear grandma yelling at me for getting home at 2 am. For working too much. For not putting the left-overs in the fridge.

Should I really be here? Is it really worth it? Being away from everything and everyone I love? Everyone who loves me? I am feeling so lonely and so guilty.

GUILTY! What the heck is wrong with me? I feel like I am a horrible daughter, sister, friend, everything.

My brother just graduated. My best friend. My only friend for half of my life. And I wasn't there.

My friends and family are all proud of me and I don't know what the heck they are proud of. I miss them. I want to go home.

God I just wanted ... I just didn't want to cry anymore.

Oh, there's the moon!!!

Ok, there's the moon again. And here i am writing about it... again.

Can't help it. Everytime she is full, I fall in love. ... uh... not sure what I fall in love with though.

This time it is not orange - it is silver, bright shiny silver.

Oh, how I miss watching the moon from my eighteenth floor window, with grandma and my brother Leo. The world looks so perfect at night, from the 18th floor, at the moonlight, with the people you love, and the smell of bean soup coming from the kitchen...

Sometimes I just want to go home.

"Não há , ó, gente, oh não, luar como esse do sertão."

LOOK IN THE EYE OF THE GIRL

by Marisa Prado

Girl grew up hearing
That it was no use lying,
Because Mother always knew it

Mother used to say
That she read it on the forehead of the Girl,
And that only Mother
Knew how to read forehead.

Girl tried
To cover her forehead with her hand

when it came the time to lie.

Mother thought it was funny. Very funny.

And kept on reading away

Girl had to understand

how this mistery worked.

On the bathroom mirror,

she lied a lot, in silence.

And in the forehead, nothing written!

Then, Girl found out

that Mother also lied.

And that it was not the forehead

- it was the eye, shining in a different way -

that gave in the lie.

Girl then tried

to close her eyes real tight,

to hide Lie.

But not even that worked,

for Mother always knew.

Girl really had to learn

to pretend with her eyes open

that Lie was True.
Girl tried, tried... and learned it.

That was the way.

But at night

Girl felt tight inside.

A little like out of breath,

not even able to blink.

With her eyes wide open,

She could not bring herself to sleep.

Air did not come to Girl.

Just like when we get

almost unable to breath

from a laugh from a tickle.

But it was not funny.

Girl - unintentionally -

had discovered Conscience,

something that watches over us

even when Mother is not reading forehead,
Nor seeing eye.

Girl had learned

how much pretending hurt.

And that this way

it would really not be funny

to be a grown-up.

Girl gave up on growing up.

But it was no use.

Girl saw that now

she was almost as tall

as the furniture at grandma’s living room.

And she got very sad.

The tight feeling was getting tighter.

And so tight that tight feeling got,

that Girl figured that pretending

could only hurt so much

because she hurt alone.

Girl had an idea,

and she did not know yet
Whether it was a brilliant idea.

But she knew – oh, yes -

that she had to try it,

in order to find it out.

Girl’s idea
Was to tell Mother

that pretending was hard
Girl found it bad
To learn so many things
And do not share them with anyone.

Girl told Mother
That it was really complicated

and that it wasn’t good at all

having to grow up alone.

Mother hugged
Girl really tight.

And, in the arms so longed for,

Girl became Mother’s mom.

Girl felt
That Mother was crying.
And that Mother
Hadn’t learned it all yet.

Mother did not say anything

but both one and the other knew

in that tight hug
That in Mother it also hurt
To be grown-up alone.

At that moment

Girl understood everything.
She found out that only care
makes loneliness go away.

And that when pain is shared,

it hurts a little less.
And that, then,

you even feel

like keeping on growing up

to find out all the rest of the stuff.

Me? A spy?

Ok, here's another fun-crazy-wacky dream.

I was some sort of spy. Me and 2 other spies kept going over to a place to rescue hair products. But our mission kept ending up badly.

The guy that was my superior got killed 3 times. Every time he would always tell me, "don't worry, this time it is going to work." I think that Nathan Hale story really got to me.

I always managed to survive though (because I am oh-so-cool!) BUt I had to bribe this couple to let me get through without their telling on me.

I was covered in mud when I got home and went take a shower.

Meanwhile, it was my birthday, and we were having a breakfast party at home. All my family was there, and also my friends from Memorial church, and my friends from my American church Jim and Dave. Jim came with everyone he knows from work and I got really mad at him. How was I to explain to grandma that she had to feed an army?

"Who the heck are these people?"

"They work with me." he answered as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

"Who told you you could bring your friends from work?"

Dave also brought a bunch of people - FRIENDS OF A FRIEND OF HIS. And he kept apologizing cuz he had no idea there were so many.

I kept looking at Dave and Jim, trying to figure out a way to make grandma not aware of their friends presence.

"These people -" I could only say in despair, "you know they were not supposed to be here! you know that, right?"

oh!!!! uh-oh!

"YOU GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I was completely overwhelmed by the people's behavior, "Just tell these people they can't start eating! Do they know it is my birthday? Do they know we have to pray before we eat?

"Dave, get the food out of that woman's mouth for crying out loud!" It was an old black poverty-stricken woman who got every piece of food she could hold. "Oh, my gosh, you can't eat that! PUT THAT BACK!"

Things calmed down after a while.

Since I had taken a shower, my hair looked like a porkypine.

Then grandma mentioned that this prince from some land was sort of in love with me. (It was the son of the couple I bribed on my mission.)

And my friend Marcus went like,

"Sure, that is so happening. You marrying a prince. Only if he is blind."

"What are you saying!"

"THe truth! No prince will ever marry you."

I get so mad at his spite that I want to hit him, but he is much older than me, so I figured it would be disrespectful. Everyone in the room would be upset at me. Especially because everyone in my family worships Marcus.

Crap, I have to hit some one. I have to show everyone I am mad. And I have to do it now.

Then I take out on Jim, that has nothing to do with the story, but happened to say he was taking off his shirt. (just for the record- it was a beach house)

"Just put on your shirt, you! This is my house!"

He laughed cuz he got no clue what I was so mad at, so I pushed him as hard as I could and yelled,

"Just put your freaking shirt on! NOW!" and that got the message across. "And have all of these teenagers who followed you do the same thing! See what a bad example you set!"

The teenagers were my friends from Memorial youth group, Dani, Felt, and Deó, and a couple of guys from Jim's work.

Then my Aunt Inaja went like, "Marcus is right. With your hair the way it is now, when the prince gets here, he will turn right back."

"By the way," Marcus hollered, "did you shave?"

So I got mad at both of them. What the heck!

And you know what! That prince is sort of ugly and dumb-looking and I do not want to marry him at all.

But , oh crap, all my friends are here and I am looking like a porkypine. ANd to make things worse, there are all these people that Jim and Dave brought. They don't even know me! I better go get my hair done. And why the heck did Marcus have to holer the words 'did you shave?' out loud? Did the whole world have to know I forgot to shave in the shower?

Meanwhile the heater was on. Dave and Jim (I guess they were the only americans in the party) were, like, dying.

"Virginia," that was Dave, "can you please turn this thing down, cuz we're sort of scorching here."

Gee, there was some sort of problem with the heater. I could not get the thing to go down. "Just a few more minutes ok, guys?"

So Marcus got up and solved the problem.

"It was I.O.I.C. - incompetent operator in charge."

All the time, I had the distinct feeling he wanted to put me down in front of my American friends. For goodness sake. What the heck was wrong with him! A 34 year-old man. You'd think he 'd know better.

"Marcus, just drop the attitude!"

Grandma's song

"Oh, beautiful moon, if you were not married..." how does the song go again?
Grandma used to sing that song when I was little. Tonight when I saw the moon, dazzling, huge, and orange in the dark sky, those words came back to mind.
"... if you were not married..." [who is she married to? Saint George?] "... I'd make up a ladder to go up there and kiss you." Yeah, maybe I should try that some time. When St. George isn't looking.

She's given up talking

That's a Paul McCartney song. From his latest CD.

I am watching a movie that reminded me of this song. It's called "The Quiet Room" about a girl who gives up talking because of her parents divorce. Throughout the movie her speech is in her mind. It is so interesting.

Reminded me of myself. My aunt says it was as if I lived in another world. Maybe that is why I grew up to be so different from everyone.

Unfortunately since I've learned to talk, I won't stop. I wish I would. So people would know when I am hurting.

"Even to cut off your own negative points can be dangerous. ONe never knows which of the negative points is the one on the basis of the whole building." Clarice Lispector

MAGIC IS GONE

Watching Superman again I found a lot of stuff I did not see as a child.

A very cool thing - the story is by Mario Puzo, the author of "The Fortunate Pilgrim" and "The Godfather" and one of my favorite writers.

LOUIS LANE is UGLY as HELL! They really did not care much about good-looks back then.

HIS OUTFIT (!!!!) explains my brother's articles about SuperMan being SuperHomo. What kind of man goes around in a blue bathing suit, red underwear on top of his pants, and shiny boots? "Feeling gay today, honey."

Now when Louis Lane dies, that's so stupid!!!! Doesn't Superman know how to make CPR! I guess that would make him too human... So he had to make the Earth turn backwards.

Huahuahua -Louis can't spell!!! So different from the smart Louis Lane from the TV series.

Funny I always thought there was a scene with a boy falling in the Niagara and Louis falling from the Eiffel Tower. Maybe that's from Superman II and III.

You could fly by the Statue of Liberty without being considered a terrorist.
Oh, that's why I've spent my life wishing I could fly!

Superman

Superman is on. Can you believe it! I have been watching this movie for as long as I was able to identify a TV.

I just checked the year the movie came out - 1978. Get out of here! The movie was already old when I was born!

Maybe now I will understand a lot of the story and not be scared of going to bed.

Superman, Star Wars, Indiana Jones... these stories filled my childhood dreams.

Only very recently I was able to understand a lot about Star Wars, watching it again with a friend in order to go watch the final episode.

Now I am afraid of watching Indiana Jones again... afraid that it will not be as fun. Indiana was my all-times hero!

the terminal

I had heard of it being a good movie. So it was on@ HBO, and I watched it. (Man, it is so great having HBO!)

In the end I found out who directed the movie - Steven Spielberg.

There was a time in which I knew every single movie Spielberg had ever put his finger in. When did that stop? When did I stop having a life?

Anyway, finding out that it was a Spielberg movie explained a lot. The movie has a sensitive and funny story that appeals a lot to your emotions, and an unavoidable happy ending that makes you want to cry because it deals with those sacred concepts of home and family. But in a sort of manipulatively naive tone.

Unfortunatley I think I have already been doing so much home/family crying of my own, that movies like that don't seem to make me cry aymore. MOvies have too be much deeper than a Spielberg sentimentaloid flick to make me cry. I don't think I still believe in happy endings.

stupid movie

It's 1:34 in the morning and I don't want to go to bed nor turn off the lights.
I was watching a stupid scary movie. A very stupid scary movie from the 80's. The movie was so stupid and predictable, that I don't know why I watched it.
More than stupid and predictable - the story was one of the most senseless I've ever seen. It reminded me of the nerdy senseless stories my best friend (12 years ago) Daniel Troccoli used to tell me.
Daniel was 10 and I was 13, so even back then his stories were already way too stupid for my taste, and the only reason I put up with them was because he was my best friend and he put up with my trash too.

Friend

"A friend is something you keep under seven keys, inside your heart, that's how the song goes. ... Even when time and distance say no. Even when you forget the song. Someday, friend, I will come back to meet you."

I was thinking about Lua a lot today. So, as silly as it may sound writing about friendship, that is what I will do now. Friendship is the kind of relationship that should be the basis for any other close relationship.
And though I have a handful of very dear friends here in the U.S. (I'd name them, but they know who they are, and enough is enough - I tend to become too melodramatic when i get into this subject), Luana is still my best friend. Even though we are far away.

The best thing about our friendship is how long we've been friends for - 11 years now. That is so awesome. One day, 11 years ago, we decided we would be best friends. I know that sounds a little weird, maybe childish. But we were kids then and kids do silly things like deciding to become best friends.

A lot of people that were probably as old I as am today told me that having a best friend was silly, just kid's stuff, that one day I'd grow up and grow out of it.

Honestly - I am glad I never believed them. And I still don't. I believe having a best friend is the best thing that can ever happen to someone. Having someone special you can always count on, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with, share secrets with... yeah, someone to share.

Honestly - I think anyone who says best friend is a kid's thing is an unhappy creature who forgot a whole lot about loving and caring.

But yeah, one day we made a pledge to be best friends from that day on. And it was one of the best things I ever did, since I never really had a close friend before (besides my brother of course, but my brother was well on his way to find his own friends and girlfriends and I was really being left on my own). Sudenly I had someone who was not part of my family to play with, and do those fun things only friends do - like being silly and not minding it, going to the movies whenever, talking about boys, and being irresponsibly happy.

We helped each other grow up. And when we realized it had been 10 years we had decided to become friends, we went to the mall and bought a pair of pink blouses and had our names embroided on them. Talk about being irresponsably happy - we did it just for the sake of it, as we have always done. Oh yeah, we are no longer teenagers, but if best friends is a kid's stuff, we can still act very much like kids.

Everytime I think of Lua I have to thank God for the gift of friendship. Everytime I think of Lua I can't imagine my life without her, because everytime I think of her most of my life comes to my mind in flashback. Sleep-overs, outings, phone talks, letters in colored envelopes, beatles CD's, Bible studies, camps, and so much more. Oh! Oh Yeah! I hope she forgive me for writing this here, but ... I also can't help thinking of all the times she broke up with her boyfriends and I was the shoulder she'd have to cry on. Everytime I answered the phone and a crying voice begged me to come over and talk, I knew I had a long long afternoon ahead of me.

11 years... wow! isn't that something!

Now that we have grown up and have gone our own separate ways, maybe we won't be as close nor have as many memories in common. I don't know what will happen from now on. I think maybe we should re-start the letter-writing practice. Distance and time are 2 things that cause a lot of trouble. But we have to get on with life , right?

And maybe part of being best friends is figuring out how to keep th erealtionship even when time and distance say no. We won't live in the past. I refuse to look back and think what a great friendship we had. We have a great friendship and that will not die. Best friends is not a kid's stuff, it is a lifetime commitment.

Home Alone 2

Ok, the title of this posting was supposed to be "Lost in New York". But then I remembered that M. Culkin had a movie with the same name, Home Alone 2:Lost in New York. So, yeah, that's where I got the idea for this title from - See? How extremely creative I am!

Yesterday I went to NYC on business.

(Just in case you are reading this blog and you know me, DO NOT assume anything - I was really there on business, but I won't jinx it by blabbering about it.)

Well, the whole day went perfectly fine. My business meeting couldn't have been better.
And I was proud of myself, because I had never used the subway before and I did not screw up or anything. Got into the right one, got off at the right station, took the right direction to the place... everything was perfect till it was time to come back home.

My meeting lasted longer than what I had expected and I realized that by the time I would get home there would be no more buses running.

Well, the family I live with had offered to pick me up at the station, but I'd rather not bother them. After trying a lot of alternatives that did not work out though, I was pretty desperate. That's when I decided to give them a call. I was on the subway when I called them.

I had gotten the right subway, but got off at the wrong exit. Don't ask me how, but I looked at the map and thought I had it all figured out.

I walked for 10 minutes absolutely certain that I was going the right way. Next thing I knew I was arriving at Central Park.

"Wait, I was trying to get to Grand Central! What I am doing here?"

Besides, Central Park + night... not a good combination. Remember Home Alone 2? And remember the Brazilian grad student murdered there? Yeah, when I saw the name Central Park at the sign , chills went down my spine.

"I-I shouldn't be here. I am not giving another step forward." Really? Funny! My feet kept moving. I don't think they believed I was actually at Central Park. Those eyes of mine could be deceiving me. I was tired, maybe I was seeing things.

FEET! STOP MOVING! THAT THING ACROSS THE STREET IS CENTRAL PARK AND YOU ARE NOT GOING IN THERE! Ok, that is pretty much what my brain told my feet, so, guess what! they stopped.

Let's see, I needed to get to Grand Central, I had no idea which way to take and even less of an idea why I ended up a street away from Central Park, and please, let's keep in mind that I do not know NYC and it was a little bit past 10 pm. I needed help. And I needed help right away.

But of course I would just not stop anyone on the street and ask for help. Who knows what kind of weirdos walk by Central Park at that time of night. Na-na-nee-na-nahn, I would not talk to anyone who was not wearing a uniform. One thing I've learned as a city girl is to never trust any passer-by after dark. And, as scared as I am of NYC, I never trust any passer-by there @ anytime of day or night.

Looked around to scan the enviroment. Spotted target: hotel on the corner, doorman.

It was a little upsetting, though, realizing he had a very think accent. But I figured that in order to be a hotel doorman, he would probably understand English pretty well, and be able to give directions to Grand Central. And I was right.

"Sir would you please tell me how I get to Grand Central?"

"You have to catch the subway."

"The subway????" No, no, no, he doesn't understand English. Oh, God, why did I go to someone that does not understand English???? "Sir, I just got off the subway. Can't I walk to Grand Central?"

"Well, G.C. is on 42nd and you are on 57th. You can walk if you want to."

"42ND?!?!?!?!" Yeah, 42nd?! How the heck did I end up so far off the target? "So did I turn the wrong way? Was that it?"

"I don't know." Of course he wouldn't know it, Dumbo! How was he supposed to know how you screwed things up? Duh!

"Uh... yes, I did. So what do I do now?"

"You have to get on the subway..."

He would point in a totally different direction of the one I came as he spoke. My head spinned and I stopped listening, though I could see his lips moving. Getting back in the subway was not an option! Going anywhere I hadn't been to before was not an option, trying to figure out new directions in NYC at that time of night was not an option! Sir, do me a favor and just tell me what I want to hear.

"So if I wanted to walk there, which way should I go?"

He pointed me the way. So I thanked him and started walking.

After a little while, I understood why the funny look in his face when I used the verb 'to walk'. Argh! My kingdom for a cab!

I started looking for a cab. And many cabs drove by - all packed. A few would stop to drop people off, but before I could any closer to them, someone else would get in. Beautiful! I am just not aggressive enough to get a cab in NYC. ... uh... not yet. And maybye I never will be, since NYC is not my dream land.

So I did the rest of my walking, my legs weighing more and more by the minute.... until... WOW! I finally spotted GC! It was a block away! But even then getting there felt like forever . By the time I made it to the entrance, each leg weighed a ton and I had to use a lot of willpower to get them off the ground.

It was 5 of 11, meaning I had been walking for almost an hour. For somone who had plans to get the 10:30 train to Stamford, I was a little bit late. By 10:40 I had called the family and left a message with their little girl "Tell your mom to go to bed, I got lost and it took me forever to get to the train station." And my phone died. Good. I didn't want them to call back and say they were picking me up anyway, I'd feel the most inconsiderate person on the face of the earth."

The train was leaving at 11:22. I made it to the train, my legs begging "mercy, please! Just forget the Miss Manners walk and drop down on a seat!" ...hum... no, not yet. I had to find a seat with an outlet. Even though I was not going to let the family call me, I had to have some battery life to make sure I was safe in case of an emergency.

Once I found the right seat, I finally dropped down and forgot about the whole manners thing - I connected the phone and passed out. And I had this weird dreams that I had missed my stop and ended up in New Haven. Oh, what a troubled sleep.

At last I got to Stamford and got a cab home that cost me 12 bucks. Oh! An arrow through my heart! 12 bucks is just so much more than what I was expecting to spend on that day! But - I was home safe, and that was all that mattered at that point.

15

Driving on the Merrit makes me feel like I am in a car race. Especially Exit 33 South, when you have to go from a complete Stop to 70mph in a matter of , let's say, 30 seconds?!?!?!
That really brings me back to my childhood. I feel like I am Ayrton Senna in my F-1 white and red McLaren.
Of course, the car I drive looks nothing like Senna's McLaren, and it's not nearly as fast, but the fact that I have to go from zero to 70 leaving from the STOP sign, in something like half a minute, switching through all the gears of the car in the process, definetely gives me the feeling that I just entered the race circuit. Images of Ayrton pass in my mind like a flash back.

Well, everything is not always beautiful. Evrytime some dumb driver does something stupid in front of me I kind of remember Senna's fatal accident at the Tamburello bend, in the San Marino GP, in Ital y. The blood, the delay of the medical crew, the words that came out of Roberto Cabrini's mouth hours later, when he finally gave the saddest news of my whole life then - "Ayrton Senna da Silva is dead - News that I wish I never had to give".

That was it. My childhood was officially over. The man I had admired even before I could understand what a car race was, the hero, the patriot. Ayrton Senna da Silva was more commonly know as Ayrton Senna do Brasil, and wherever he was, he was never ashamed of lifting our flag.

Other kids I knew would still watch F-1 races after that. I had no reason to do it. I never valued the race, I valued the man, his morals, his honor, and the delightfull memories that he had forever produced in my childhood. Memories of the brazilian flag being raised up high, memories of my family gathering together around the TV hollering "Go Senna! Go BRazil!" When Senna died, a lot of my childhood was over.

I also remember the huge sign that is still posted at BR124 (the road that takes me from Salvador to Feira, in Brazil): "Senna gets paid to speed, you don't," then I feel that maybe I should not be going so fast. But... can't really help it, every Brazilian has a little of Ayrton inside, and the notion of danger seems to fade away.

Brazilian Day

Every year the Brazilian community in the U.S. celebrates Independence Day (Sept. 7) on the first Sunday of Spetember in NYC.

Having found out about it, I had to go there, right? And even though the bands playing were not my all-time favorites, it had everyting to be a perfect day, especially because I was dying for some typical food.

There was no time to be wasted, I got on the phone and put a group together. But pretty soon I would find out that I had picked the wrong group to go with. They complained about everthing and before the day was over they went home and left me behind.

I wasn’t totally innocent on the issue. Staying behind was my own choice. I simply refused to leave anytime before sunset. There was way too much going on for me to leave! So I stayed, mingled with the crowd and danced till my legs were num.

Between one concert and the other, we sang the National Anthem. It was beautiful! I held my flag up all the way through it and had to fight back a few tears.

The lady that sang the American National Anthem though did a very bad job. She thought she was Whitney Houston and hollered the words out, instead of doing some actual singing. Pitiful. The land we live in deserved better.

Artists from TV Globo (the Brazilian equivalent to Hollywood) were there, like Thiago Lacerda and Luigi Barricelli, good-looking guys that most of my friends in Brazil would die to see. Andre Marques, the cute chubby host from Video Show (a daily TV Globo show), hosted the party and shot some images for his TV program.
“Hey, Mom, I am on TV Globo!” Ok, ok, I was just one amongst the crowd, but I was on Globo indeed anyway! Next year I will write a huge sign saying the words “Film I here!” which draws attention from the camera because the grammar is so wrong!

Andre Marques asked the people from different states to holler as he said the names of the places. Minas Gerais was the largest crowd. Sao Paulo was the runner-up. Bahia was really small, but I cried my lungs out when he said “The people from Bahia-a-a-a-a-a!”

I would have hollered even louder if Miss Dumbo with me hadn’t pulled my arms down to say “My ‘Our Lady’! We are the only ones from Bahia!”

If you have ever looked at someone with a truthfull desire to kill the person, you’d recognize the look in my eyes. What did I care and why wouldn’t she let me holler?

Foodwise, I was disappointed. I paid SEVEN DOLLARS FOR AN ACARAJE!!!! There is acaraje being sold on every street of my hometown for a dollar! Seven dollars?!?! Shoot me!

Acaraje is a small cake made from crushed beans and you eat it with lots of different fillings, like a sandwich. It is a typical and unique food from Bahia.

When I say unique I mean it literally “not found anywhere else”. Oops, I am lying. Actually there is a lady in Sao Paulo that makes it, but it is pitiful. She wakes up at 4 am, and bakes the cakes at 5 am. At 5 pm she is still selling those same cakes that she made 12 hours ago! Well,you can not save an acaraje for the next hour, let alone 12 hours!

But as I said before, I was dying for some typical food, so I paid the 7 dollars with true pain in my heart. And it wasn’t even the best acaraje I’ve had. As a matter of fact when you’ve had Dinha’s and Deborah’s cakes you will not find anything better ever again. Soft dull, crunchy crust, fresh and ripe tomatoes for the salad, tasty vatapa... everything with those baianas is just right.

There was also churrasquinho (shih-kebab), but I guess it was not the one made in bahia, because the pieces in Bahia are smaller and crunchier and they come with slices of fresh tomato and onion on the tip of the stick.

The other thing they had was churros, some kind of dull with caramel inside. But the dull was too thick.

There were no preserves like tamarindo or groselha; no fruits like pinha, jamelao, jambo; no roasted qualho cheese. Things that I miss more than life! They were also serving feijoada and that green leafy thing that might kill you if it’s not well washed and cooked long enough, I forgot what it is called. Those are things you do not want to buy at the street.

When the party was over some guys I met found out I was from Bahia and asked me to go dance Forrall with them at some dance club on 47th. Forall is a typical north-eastern rythm. But then that samba lyric “moro em jasanan, se eu perder esse trem que sai agora as 11 horas, so amanha de manha.” (I live in jasanan, if I miss this train that leaves now at 11, only tomorrow morning.) Yeah, i had a train to catch and I had no idea what kind of transportation would expect me at my arrival in Stamford. I had better leave. So I passed on the Forrall, with true heart ache.

As I walked to Grand Central I realized my legs wieghed 100 lbs. each. But I was still trying to walk like a lady. I still had to get away from thi guy that proclaimed himself my boyfriend and would n't leave me alone. Guess what! he found me again at the station when I got there.

Overall, it was a fun day. It was worth it, and next year I am doing it again!