Hate speech

Jews, go back to Poland and Germany - this land belongs to the palestines.

Ok, then let's see:

Jews, go back to the Palestine, this land belongs to the Germans. - This was the feeling in Nazi Germany.

Blacks, go back to Africa, this land belongs to the American colonists.

Italians, Irish, go back to your home countries, this land belongs to Americans who came in the Mayflower only.

Americans, go back to Europe, this land here belongs to the North-American Indians.

Americans, get out of Texas, this land belongs to Mexico.

Latin-Americans, go back to Spain and Portugal, this land belongs to the Central and South-American Indians.

You can send anyone back anywhere you want - it is not going to work. No one can go back home, when home has ceased to be home generations ago. The Nazis succeed in their campaign against granting the Jews the right to call their Reich dominions home, and how well did that end. Are we really going to go down this road?

What about illegal immigrants? If you send Jews back to Poland and Germany, should you send illegals back to Mexico and wherever as well?

I'm pro-LEGAL immigration. But something tells me, the people who want jews to go back to Poland and Germany don't mind illegal border crossing in the U.S. - Am I right?

Influenza

So I had this Brazilian lit in college that was so against the word influence that it was even pathetic.

You must never say that writer A was influenced my writer B. That's an offensive thing to say!

So, pretty much we had to figure out what words to use when we were analyzing literature.

Check out the name they give it to the flu in English - Influzenza! That means influence is something bad.

I am not sure a college professor could say anything more ignorant than that. We were just teenagers and we knew that she was messed up. Needless to say she was the same professor who accused me of blindly copying my favorite poem from some random book at my grandma's library just so I could meet the assignment.

No one your age could possibly like this poem!

How could someone like that even get a job at a higher level education institution? Why did I even bother replying to that absurd remark? I guess I was trying to defend my honor... Picking a random poem when I received specific instruction to pick my favorite poem? How hard is it to pick a favorite poem for someone who takes Brazilian Lit as an elective? Really!

So Influenza has that name because it is a bad thing - because influence, any influence is bad.
I should probably not consider the fact that she was also a feminist. And I don't have a problem with feminism in certain aspects, but most feminists I know take their ideas to extremes that make no sense.

Never say a woman has been influenced by a man!

Ok, ok. I won't. I won't say anything you don't want me to in your class. Just give me my grade! Had I known it would have been so hard, I'd have chosen a nutrition class instead.

At least now that I live among normal people, I can talk about being influenced by this or that. Even the book I'm reading for my writing class states that influence is not only ok, it is a GOOD thing - we learn to write from writers, says the author. We learn their craft and their text structures and use them in our own writing. Writing is individual, but not unique is the point the writer makes in one of the first pages of the book. So true. And so freeing. Everyone is influenced by someone else, or something else. Always. In everything we do.

Sometimes to just gotta listen to adults

I wrote this down on my phone, but now I don't remember who said it. I think it is a quote from one of my novelas.
I watch my Brazilian novelas to keep in touch with my language. But I also do it because They are fun to watch and keeps me in touch with a general feeling of home. It makes me remember the life I had - in a different world.
As much as coming to America was my own choice, I can't help missing my old life. As much as this country gives me a lifestyle worthy only of the rich people in Brazil, I can't help missing the way I lived before. It was much tougher, and much scarier. It provided me with less hopes for the future, it provided me with less reasons to believe in success or in decency or in morals, but I am what I am today because of it. As far as as a system of values in my country is discredited my many, there are many who fight back, and I learned to be who I am because of them. How could I ever have dreamed of coming to a country like America, if no one in Brazil had taught me to value the values of this country?
Besides no culture is perfect, and I believe that being bicultural makes me a better person - I don't ever want to forget who I am. NO culture is perfect, and being able to look at both Brazilian and American cultures as an outsider gives me an advantage. That's why I don't ever want to forget who I am, or where I came from.
I know my children will be just influenced by my Brazilian culture. They will probably not feel like outsiders as much. After all, they will be fully American, born and raised. And their children even less, perhaps they will not even be able to speak my language. Who knows. Maybe they will love languages as much as I do. But maybe, America will be a greater country because of my influence.

Sometimes to just gotta listen to adults - part 2

I just did not talk about what I wanted the first time around. I got side tracked with the whole "cultural experience" and Brazilian supremacy idea.
I was thinking about the idea of listening to adults. Sometimes you just gotta listen to adults and take their word for it, even if you don't understand what they say.
That was the character's idea. Adults just know things - they just know things that we don't. And the reason why they know things is because they have been around and they have seen things. The world has not changed so much that truth is no longer truth, and human nature is no longer human nature. The world has not changed so much that problems among people are no longer the same.
Adults have been around long enough to know that. So sometimes, instead of thinking we - the young people - have to re-invent the wheel because mom just don't understand things, or dad is just too old to know how things work, we should remember that they have been in our shoes just a couple of years before. They have seen the situation through our eyes once. Eyes that could only see one side of the story until it all unfolded. Now they know the mysteries. Now they know everything they didn't. They know what other people were thinking. They know how that mess ended. They know who got in trouble and who didn't - and they might even know why. They have been to the future and gotten insight from it. We, our lives, are their past. And they are the ones who can tell us what happened in the future.
So yes, sometimes, we just gotta listen to adults, even if things they say don't make any sense to us. Sometimes we just gotta trust they know more than we do.

I learned at the hospital

I learned at the hospital how I like and how I don't like to be treated by people who know things that are important to me.
I learned at the Glenn Beck studio how I like and how I don't like to be treated by people who are in charge of talking when I have something to say.
I learned at Sunday School how I like and how I don't to learn about a topic that is complex.
I learn from people everywhere I go how I can be a better teacher. Because every time I find myself in a position that is under someone else's authority regarding my learning and my expressing what I know I put myself in my students' shoes. And I think how great it is when someone treats me a certain way. And how depressing it is when someone treats me in another way.
When my doctor bothered to stop by at a time that was not even in his scheduled to address a concern some nurse mentioned to him - that showed me cared about my questions. It made me feel safe. I want my students to feel safe like that too.
When Glenn Beck asked us to raise our hands and speak up, and he actually listened to those of us with hands in the air, even after the show was over, that made me feel like I mattered, even in the middle of so many people. His eyes, his body language, his reaction, sometimes his reply - everything conveyed the message "I'm really listening". I want my students to have the same feeling that what they have to say matters, even if they are only one in a crowd.
When my Sunday school teachers take the time to prepare hand-outs, where I can write down my notes and follow their teaching outline, I felt like I could not get lost in the class, and even if I missed part of it, I could have a general idea of what was taught in my absence. I want my students to feel that they can follow the class too.

So I feel like I am always learning to be a better teacher, just by observing how I like the types of interactions I have with people.

one of those "I hate poor"

If anyone has anything against this marriage...

I do! I thought I was at a senator's daughter's wedding, but I might have walked into the wrong church! Because you guys are all poor!

Sir, do you have anything to say against our marriage?

Of course I do!!! Just by looking at the two of you I can tell you are poor! Why do poor people want to get married? To make more poor children, so more poor people are born into this world? That's why this race will never become extinct!

God said blessed are the poor, for they will inherit heaven!

Great! then die and go to heave to take your inheritance! Let us rich people take care of the earth. Why should I care about heaven! There's gotta be a place better than heaven for rich people - is there?

Sir, we are poor and we are proud of it!

Lie! Lie! Proud! You hate being poor! You think I don't know! I know it because I was poor once! Today I'm a senator, and do you think I care about the people? Do you think I'm one of those stupid ones who think care about the country? I want it all in my pocket! In my pocket!!

Demi Lovato

Every time I hear the children mentioning some idolized actor/singer, I try to find out who the person is. I just hate not knowing who are the people in the media.

So I was trying to figure out who on earth was Demi Lovato, who is enjoying some fame in Brazil.

Best place to find out about these people - youtube.

Then I found out why Demi Lovato is so adored by teenagers - her music is about teenage love. Argh! I do not miss those feelings, I do not! "Did I mean any thing to you?" "Did you ever cared about my feelings?" "Did you ever even realized I was here?" My goodness how glad I am to be married and not having to worry about whether or not my words, my feelings, my eyes, my voice make any difference to that person.

Anyway, I don't care why the girls in Brazil are so crazy about Demi Lovato. What I think is really cool is that this obsession with these American stars, and their hopes that they will be able to talk to them someday motivates them to learn English. And I love seeing children motivated to learn languages.

Was I so naive?

Was I just so naive to think that our friendship could have survived the test of time? Was I just stupid enough to believe that she's actually normal?
It's upsetting to think that the friendship to which I wrote so many poems as a teenager is not as invincible as once thought.
Do I think I am perfect? No! Of course not!
Do I have some extent of ADD? Probably. I do get distracted fairly easily. And I do tend to multitask incessantly and almost obsessively.
But have I ever been careless about our friendship?! Who?! Me?! I don't think so.
I never listen without interrupting, she says. I never listen without interrupting? I have been accused of not listening attentively my whole entire life. And then I decided to stop and think through every time I have been accused of not listening properly.
Usually the following scenarios:
a) She's pouring her heart out to me right after church, when all my friends, including the guy I am trying to impress are coming out of the sanctuary. So I'm not listening to her bc I am too busy trying to talk to everyone else. Well, maybe, and just maybe, the time for confidentiality is not quite right.
b) We are spending time together, each one of us with a number of things we each want to share. She gets to do the whole talking - about herself and myself, for about 2 hours. So I eventually stop listening, bc I am tired of not having a chance to say anything I need to say. How many times have I gotten back home after spending a day together, feeling that I just served as a shoulder to cry, and no one really cared to find out about my own feelings. "Friendship is a two-way road," she says. Maybe she should take her own advice. Just maybe.
From day one when our friendship began, I was always the crying-shoulder. It was always about her pouring her feelings out, or should I say dumping her feelings out on me.

All through our entire lives it's been like that. She talks, and talks, and talks. And when she's done, she'd talk some more. She was never really done talking. She'd talk even when it was my turn to do the talking. On MY WEDDING PREP. Did she ever even bother to hear what I wanted to do? No. Of course not! She had to talk it through - and determine how I should want my wedding to be.
"Of course I am upset that you have to teach!Why did you say 'hello' if you had no time to talk?"
No surprise she is upset! She is upset that I am not there to hear her cries. Because, really, this is the first person ever to tell me she's upset because I say hello when I have no time to chat!!!!
This is just ridiculous. No, not just annoying - ridiculous!
You know, maybe, and just maybe, she's just really upset with the fact that her engagement is over. Maybe, and just maybe, she's saying that because she really does not know what to do, or who to blame for having lost all the hope she had built up of building a life together with that man. Maybe she does not really mean the things she said.
So I will wait. I will wait and not say anything anymore so things don't get any worse. When she is ready, if she is ever ready, she will talk to me as if nothing had ever happened.
If she is never ready, than maybe our friendship was never really worth that much to start with. And I was really just so naive to think that time, distance, and men could never destroy what we had together.

Saint John's - a national party

Gilberto Gil, one of the most famous musicians in Brazil, is preparing a record with only Saint John's songs.

Saint John is a national party, he said. A national party indeed. A Catholic country like Brazil has Christmas, Easter to celebrate Jesus's life and death, but it also has all the saints holidays, and Saint John's, with it delicious food and rhythms, is a national favorite.

Schools hold Saint John's parties, children sign up for food, and practice the special dances for a couple of months before the big day. Coloring bonfires, painting your teeth black, sewing non-matching patches in jeans pants and dresses, wearing straw hats and speaking with a draw. And yes, playing with firecrackers! Oh, and the food! The food! The food! Those of us who are not Roman Catholic can choose to participate or not in the religious mass, and even in the festivities - some people in my church did believe a holiday dedicated to John should not be observed at all. But it is our individual choice to refrain, and the whole world does not have to bend to us.

Why is it ok to celebrate religious holidays in Brazil, even for those of us who do not subscribe to the Roman Catholic faith, but it is such a big deal in America to celebrate their own religious holidays and even now their national holidays? However, children get punished for wearing their own flag on the day of a MEXICAN holiday!!!!!

The more I live in the country of freedom, the less free I think we are in here. It is not ok to talk about religion almost anywhere. Religion is offensive. Usually the majority's religion is offensive. So the majority of the people, who subscribe to some type of Christian religion, is not free to express their religiosity in their own country.

That's so frustrating actually. Anything that has the smell of Christianity is banned from school. As a teacher I am always stepping on eggs - can I say this word? Can I talk about this theme? Can I tell the children the girl's soul went to heaven? Should I even be asking this questions? Should I have to ask myself whether or not I can talk to people about their most common beliefs? Should I even have to ask myself whether or not I should talk to people about uncommon beliefs?

Didn't the first European settlers came here looking for a country where no one could tell them they could not express their religion? No one could prevent them from expressing their beliefs?How far have we fallen from that ideal?

We now live in country where one must think twice before he opens his mouth to say anything concerning the spiritual world. A country in which common celebrations are being banned from common places more and more frequently. Christmas at school? Easter at school? God's name at school? Bible at school? Everything is offensive. Everything is bad. Bad? oh, yes, a religion that talks about love and salvation from sin... something has gone terribly wrong with the country of freedom I learned to admire back in Brazil.

Until the finale of LOST

I fell cheated out of my time. For six years, six years!!! For six years of my life I watched and waited anxiously for the following week, for the following season, for the next new episode. Ok, not six years, since I watched the whole first season in one weekend. FIVE years of my life! For five years of my life I watched and waited anxiously for the next episode. Trying to solve mysteries, answer new questions, link them to the old ones, weave the whole story together to figure out where they were, why they were there, who were the good guys really.
Now you tell me it is all about relationships???
NO!
Not saying that relationships are not important. They are. The way that those people brought us into their present and past lives made us feel like we knew them. And we cared about them and worried about them, and we cried with them and cheered with them. But let's be honest, it was not the development of their relationships, or the dirty little secrets of their lives, that kept us coming back for more every week - it was the mystery of the island.
What is the island? Who is Jacob? What is the Dharma Initiative? What's the statue? Why can some people find the island and others can't? What's the real significance of the island? Who are the good guys and who are the bad ones - really?
THOSE are the mysteries we spend our precious life trying to answer. Mysteries we were lead to believe the authors had the answers to.
They did not. They were laughing at us all these years, watching us trying to figure out what was on their minds when nothing actually was on their minds. They had no answers. They had no reasons for the wacky things that happened in the island. It could get as wacky as they wanted - there was not an explanation behind it. And yet, they let us try to find one. And laughed at us. All these years.
If you really think Lost ended up in a satisfactory way, you have to be a sucker. It did not. I feel cheated out of my time. I feel like my intelligence has been insulted. I feel like I've been treated as a lab rat. For six years I loved watching LOST. The last chapter made me hate it forever.
No, it was not just a good show with an unworthy ending. Because then I could say - it was a good show, just the ending was weak. No, that was not the case. It was an ending that stated that everything I did until that moment was meaningless, worthless, waste of time. It was a slap across the face saying, "why did you bother?"
Seriously? Why did I bother?

The day of the bride

It will be common place to say that, but if only I had know then what I know today.
The day of the bride - a Brazilian tradition of pampering the bride on her wedding day with oils and perfumes and flowers, the one day in your life you can be treated as a true princess.
This is a tradition we borrowed from India. Oh, those magical mystery hindu people and their crazy traditions. Prepare the bride for her groom, make her skin softer, shinier, healthier, and more fragrant than ever.
It might be a general Asia Minor tradition, because queen Esther was also ordered to be pampered in oils and fragrances to be presented to the Persian King.
It is not a tradition kept by the filthy barbarian Europeans who knew nothing about proper manners until they met the Romans - who knew nothing about anything that mattered until they met the middle easterners and asians.
I should have remembered marriage is a once in a lifetime thing and taken advantage of my day of the bride.
Unfortunately the tradition kept in Brazil has been stained by the excessive wanna-be upper class mindset where you must have servants for everything. The bride should not be removed from her mother on the single most important day of her life! They day she will be given away to another family!!! That should be a family day - like it is in the United States, mom, bride, bridesmaids, everyone celebrating that very special day. That's just what i really wanted to have.

is it ok to hide who you are?

Is it ok to hide your true Christian identity to preserve your life or your safety? That's what Queen Esther did, according to last Sunday's Bible text. That's what Christians in China do, as my husband reminded me. How will you spread the word if you're dead? It's ok to be quiet about who you are then, just so you're not excluded from the community?
Is it ok to be quiet about your true beliefs on evolution just so people will still respect you as a member of the scientific community?
Is it ok to be quiet about revolutionary thoughts then? Just so you won't be excluded from the government?
How much hiding is it ok to do for the sake of life preservation before you don't know who you are anymore? And before what you really are really does not matter anymore? When should we stop hiding and face the consequences, maybe deadly, of our true identity? Queen Esther eventually had to. When her whole people were threatened of extinction, she had to. It was either risk your life now or lose your life later.
When is hiding wise?
When is hiding coward?
When is hiding sheer dishonesty?

I don't want to waste my life

When we are young, like children and teenagers we have so many dreams. What do we do with those dreams at the end of our lives? Do we just bury them? Do we pursue them? Do we keep them in the fridge waiting until time is just right? Do we wait until the people that might laugh at us are not there anymore? Do we spend our lives trying to please people that don't matter and put our dreams on hold?
One day we will die. Things we did not do won't matter. The things we wanted to do won't matter. The people we were afraid of won't matter. The people we wanted to please won't matter.
The only thing that will matter is what we actually did.
When we get to the end of our lives, when we look behind, what will we see? A life filled with dreams fulfilled, or at least the pursuit of those dreams? Or will we see a life that was wasted with things that did not matter?
When I die, what will I have left behind?
I want to many things - I want to travel and see the world. I want to learn to cook well, I want to learn to play the guitar, I want to learn different languages. I want to read different books, I want to write my own books. I want to make a difference in people's lives. I want to make a difference in my family's lives. I want to raise children who will be responsible and loving people, who will take care of the world God gave them, who will take care of the people around them, and who will value the good things in life - ans work for it.
I want a lot in life. I can't put my life on hold. I can't lose track of it. I can't, I don't want to, and I won't waste my life. I want it all and I want it now. As much as my arms can hold, as often as my arms can hold, for as long as my arms can hold.

Main character

Everyone is the main character of their own story. No one wants to be a side-kick. No one wants to be a villain. No one wants to be the less-smart (euphemism) friend to the cool guy. That's why those of us who step on others to get somewhere are in a very dangerous position. Because in someone else's story we are the villains who must be overcome.
Those of us who are in charge and must take harsh decisions are also in a very dangerous position. In someone else's story the harsh decision might be the excuse they need to be the leader of the rebels fighting against the injustices of this world. In someone else's world harsh and evil might be synonyms. Or are we naive to think that every one's view of fairness is fair and balanced? Everyone wants to be the main character of their own story - everyone IS the main character of their own story.
Real life is not like story plots where the side-kick is always the faithful less smart friend of the always-caring super-hero. Honestly, who wants to be a sidekick in their own story?
We often think too high of ourselves. Way too high.

"I miss my family"

Sometimes a song just says what is in your mind. I know that this is supposed to fun, says the song. I know it is supposed to be fun. Being a grown-up, out on my own, married. Living in a country that actually respects your as a human being. All these things have been what I have always dreamed of. living a dream - like Queen Esther. Living a princess dream.
I know this is supposed to be fun.
I'm having mixed feelings right now, says the song. Indeed I am having mixed feelings right now. Because I miss my family, just like the song says. I miss my family. And with every repetition I also repeat it in my heart - I miss my family. I miss my people. I miss the ones that were there for me growing up. I miss the ones who taught me about life, who taught me values I live by, who taught me to be who I am today.
And I don't miss them just for what they made me be. I miss them for who they are, and for the feelings that exist between us. I miss the things we did together, the places we went together, the the moments we shared together. Like Queen Esther probably did, living in the courts of the Persian king. She probably missed her family. So much that she still listened to her uncle's advice. Her uncle who had but her best interest in mind.
I love my life now. But I miss my family. My family, who has but my best interest in mind.

Kids will be kids

Some things in the world will always be the same.

Children will always be children.

When I am watching them in the playground I like to try to get in their minds - to imagine what they are feeling, what they are thinking, what their fears are, what their dreams are.

Not too long ago, it seems, I was one of them too.

Not too long ago, I also had that best friend who sticks like a tick to your skin - and makes you act like a fool.

Not too long ago I also walked down hallways filled with GIANT kids ... (before I found out they were just little 10-year-olds, and were not really BIG - it was I that was just a tiny first-grader).

Not too long ago all the world was way bigger then it is now, all my feelings were way more powerful than they are now, all that happened was way scarier than it is now, all my life was way more complicated than it is now.

Here are some questions that crossed my mind during childhood (and no I was not the brightest child on earth):

"why does the 4th grade board have weird math symbols on it?"

"why does the principal think we did it?"

"why does the only good-looking boy in the whole world never talk to me?"

"why do things happen just like mom told me they would if I do something behind her back?"

"why does that girl say so many bad words?"

"why is the teacher never looking?"

"why do I get spanked if I am only a kid?"

"why do strange voices always ask if my mom is home when I answer the phone?"

"how did she know I wet my pants???"

"how will I ever see my friends again if we go to a different school?"

"how will my best friend ever be able to call me if my phone number changes?"

"how can my aunt live in the U.S. if her mom is Brazilian?"

"how did mom find out?"

and the most mind-boggling one ever:

"how on earth does the teacher know my mom?"

Not too long ago ... the world was huge and mysterious.... it hasn't gotten much simpler, I just make myself believe it has.

One day when I was young

I do not remember much of sermon, but pastor mentioned that one day when he was young he did a certain thing. When he was young. And he had that look on his face that lead to the place he was speaking from. So I guess I lost the rest of his argument, because I started looking at him where he was in life, and where he used to be. When he said that he was referring to the fact that life sneaked up on him while he was busy trying to change the world. He knew what he wanted to do, and he knew what was right. And he went on to do the things that must be done.
Now he is the father of four young adults. Grandpa to a very young baby girl. Time sneaks up on us and takes away the life we take for granted. One day when I was very young, I could not wait to grow up. I could not wait to turn 10, so I could stay up for the 8 o'clock novela. I could not wait to turn 12 so I could watch that scary movie in the theater. I could not wait to turn 15 so I could have my sweet 15 party. I could not wait till I had my own life so I could do things differently. I could not wait until I could set (and live by) my own rules.
"One day when I was young" is the sentence we will repeat for the rest of our lives. Because when we are young we do things, and we live life, and we don't realize that life is taking away that youth that we so careless live through. And when we look behind so much time has gone by. The people that were young like us are not so young anymore. The people that were old and in charge are now taking the role of mere consultants! The ones that used to be the mere consultants are mostly gone. The people that were not even people are now the young ones. So were are the old people? Heck! the old people are us!!! Then we realize that the tables have turned. We are not looking up anymore, trying to imagine the day when we will be in charge. We are in charge. And a generation of new young people are now in the place we once were, trying to take our place, trying to do things better than us - because they know what is right! And they will do it! They can't wait to get to where we are.
Life is a cycle, and we go through it, often unaware, always impotent to break out of it. If there was no God, what meaning would that all have? Lives that were not come into this world, spend a lifetime waiting for their chance to shine, then the rest of that lifetime looking back at their turn, until they are no more.

Sequoias and Brazilian roots

Going to Brazil was a nice relaxing experience for a cold winter in America.

I am happy we did it.

However, never again I want to travel back home from a long trip on the last day of vacation.

The flights got delayed - what else is new - and we had but 3 hours of sleep before facing work and all the demands that post vacation days bring.

As usual I cried in the airplane as it took off. As usual I hate leaving my sandy beaches and warm weather, my food, my hood, my childhood, to get back to cold, inland America and an adult life filled with responsibilities that frequently make me forget who I really am.

I love my husband... and my house. I enjoy my life. I am thankful for what God has given me.

But I miss the things that made me who I am, as a tree would miss its sap.
I feel I will never know true friendship as I have know with Beta and Lua.
I will never sing praises as I have sang in my home church.
I will never feel at home as I felt in my island.
I will never feel as happy as I felt at camp.
I will never feel as special as I am to my 4 moms.
I will never feel as adored as I was my little brother.
I will never have any of those things again. Some of them are gone forever. Some of them have changed. Some are just there, waiting. I know I will never have the life I once had. I know life goes on. As it must go on.
But there is a hole in my life can only be filled by the people and moments I left behind. It can not be filled by anything else. A sequoia grows to be a majestic tree of hundreds of feet. Even when fire hits and eats up its insides, the tree stays strong and alive, beautiful and growing. But the hole will always be there, as a painful reminder that something once filled that trunk, that made it grow nice and strong, is just not there anymore. Where has it gone? Time has hidden away, and it will never return it.

summer - where are you?

it is 5:30 in the afternoon and it is dark already. that is so sad. I wonder if summer will ever come again.

rodrigo
gustavo
diogo
rafael
oliver
vitor
tomas

the leaves on the trees

Beauty in all its majesty - Autumn above the 23.5 latitude lines. The storm of colors that the tree leaves turn into; the beautiful multicolored crocheted blankets that cover the ground while the leaves fall; the briefness of it all.
It is sad to think of what such a symphony of awe announces - bitter-cold temperatures and death-like landscapes for the next 4 to 5 months. But I want to enjoy it while it lasts.
Science explains it, but it was God who set it all up, with providence in mind I assume, to glorify his name most of all, but definitely willing to give us a high-tech show of color, of which the human eye can never get enough.

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!