Remembering

The Bible says it is more useful to go to a funeral than to a party. It explains why. At a funeral you reflect about life and its finitude. You reflect on its meaning.

I am riding on my father's car on the road from Ilhéus to Itabuna. I am singing Leandro & Leonardo's Pense Em Mim. I have always been a car singer. I never used to sing in the shower, but as soon as I stepped onto a car, any car, I'd start my little private concert. Pense Em Mim was one of my favorites, almost like Drive My Car is to Paul McCartney (if I can afford the luxury of comparing myself to Mr. Paul McCartney).

“Nininha,” my father said, “you really like that song, don't you?”

“I do!” Said I, and kept on singing, and looking out the window, my other favorite thing to do in a car.

Memories of my father are few. But somehow I feel I should write them down. Some how I feel it is the right thing to do – to remember the times I spent with my father.To reflect on the meaning of his life in mine.

Grandma said he loved me. Grandma said in his own way he loved me, he just did not know how to show it. Did he?

Grandma said he regretted not having been a real dad to my brother and me. Grandma said he cried in my brother's wedding because he felt how much he failed us. Did he?

Grandma was always the first one to come down hard on him when she felt our rights were being hurt. Grandma on the phone giving him a motherly sermon, even though she had long ceased to be his mother in law. "They are your children! What on earth are you thinking!"

I will never know. And whether or not he loved me, I will never know. Maybe he did. Maybe. Maybe every mistake he made led to a harder path back to show his love for me. Maybe.

I feel bad I did not call him on the weeks before he died. Grandma told me I should. She gave me his number. "Call the poor man. He needs to hear your voice." I just couldn't bring myself to it. I feel bad I didn't. He died without hearing my voice. I thought of it. But I did not know what to say.

Last time we talked, on his birthday, he cried. I couldn't cry.

When he talked to me right after my almost-fatal car accident, he cried. I couldn't cry.

I couldn't cry because the love I should feel was simply not there. Nothing was there but the feeling that something was wrong. Something was missing in our relationship. Something that should have been there from the get-go. Something that should have grown stronger with the years. That something was missing in my heart. Maybe he did love me. Maybe he felt really bad he was never able to show that to me.

But when I got the news that he died, on that morning I cried. I could not hold back the tears. On that morning, I did cry.

And, after talking to my brother, I feel as if the right thing to do is to remember our moments together.

Everything with my father was methodic, organized, explained. The same explanations every single time. You must drink this because it helps build antibodies. You must not eat that kind of food, because it causes cancer.

We spent 2 or 3 summers at dad's.

He takes us to the video store in the morning. We go there almost everyday. When we watch late night movies, he gets us up and walking around the house. "This way you exercise and don't fall asleep." the same explanations, every single time. In one of these trips to the video store I found the movie HELP! Oh, what a delight! I watched it and watched it and watched it.

My brother is in my father's room. He browses over his record collection. My brother has always been a curious boy. He is trying different records and he finds one with Sugar, Sugar. I go in and find The Beatles - 20 greatest hits. Two months ago Aunt Léa had watched a Tribute to John Lennon and told us he'd belonged to the Beatles. "That's them! That's the Beatles! Let's listen to them!"

I had loved John Lennon's Ticket to Ride on the tribute concert, but it was Paul McCartney's Love Me Do the first thing I heard in that I heard on that day, followed by She Loves You, and something magical happened in my heart. I was hooked. My father told me about the Beatles, and England, and the BBC. When we went to the video store and found HELP!, my heart was about to jump out of my mouth with excitement.

I cough. My father tells me I must be getting pneumonia. We'd better treat that right away. My father was a hypochondriac. That's what you call a person who thinks himself and the world is always about to get sick and must have medicine for everything in the house. Let's stop at the pharmacy and get treatment for that pneumonia.

Breakfast time. My father asks if I want lemonade. I love lemonade. He makes me the best lemonade ever and explains how to do it and why. The same explanations, every single breakfast.

Toast with cacao jam is the menu for the snack. It was our favorite snack when we were at my father's. He prepares it in his very methodic way and sets it at the table. Lelas reminded me of that episode. Cacao jam is still a favorite for me. Everyday he came to visit he brought some.

Home made chocolate? Is that for real? It's for real. One of the times we went over to visit, he had a girlfriend living with him. She used to live across the street. When she lived across the street she made homemade chocolate for all the children in the neighborhood. I loved her homemade chocolate.It was hard to bite into. You were suppose to suck on it. It was delicious.

Lelas reminds me of the frescoball championship. We look out the window. There is a square in front of our father's condo at Fátima neighborhood. We befriended the children in the neighborhood. The children idolize us, because we are the big city kids. We also have the racquets and the balls to play frescoball. Every child in the neighborhood wants to play. We finally decide the best thing to do is to organize a championship. We know everything about championships. We learned everything we needed to know from the World Cups. He list the competitors. We draft a game grid with accumulating-point games and elimination games, much like the first and second phases of the World Cup. We establish prizes for the first three places.

We announce to our father that since we are the organizers, we must go get prizes. Dad takes us to the grocery store to buy prizes for the winners. Little cheap toys.

I was the best player before the competition. I was also taller and older than the other kids. But I did not win the tournament.

Lelas remembers going to the soccer stadium. The Ilhéus team stadium. Lelas says it was the first time he ever went to a stadium. It wasn't. Lelas was too young to remember the first time ever. But it was mom that took us to Fonte Nova. But our father took us on the field. That was something to remember, how often to get to go on a professional soccer field?

I remember going to the mall. The only mall in Ilhéus. We went there a couple of times. I remember thinking how minuscule it was.

Now we are going to Olivença for the day. People come from Olivença from all over the world to treat themselves in it magic waters. At the door, we always buy cocada. Yummy cocada of all flavors. I never liked the guava one. It's coconut! Who would want guava flavored coconut! Father makes sure that we don't spend too much time in the sun. Father makes sure we don't spend much time there at all. We never spend much time anywhere with our father. Remember: methodic, organized – timed. He makes sure we are nice and dry before we get into the car. On the way there, however, he makes sure he explains all the benefits of the water from Olivença. The same explanations, every single trip.

My father shows up in Salvador. It must be a birthday or Children's day. He comes to church to pick us up. He obviously takes us to the movies. It is always a movie and a meal. We go back to grandma's. Kisses and good-bye. And, yeah, lots and lots of advices.

I get a letter from my father. I often get letters from him. So does Lelas. Very few words. Lots of newspaper clips. Eventually I stopped caring about the letters. I got tired of news paper clips. Maybe it was his way of showing he cared somehow. I just couldn't handle anymore newspaper clips.

At my father's house he tells us about highly successful people that he reads about. He tells us about Akio Morita. He tells me about Bill Gates. Back home and buy The Road to Information. I devour that book in a couple of months. I learned a lot from that book. Bill Gates was an impressive man. My father seemed to have an admiration for impressive self-made men and women. I think if we had been closer I'd have learned much more abot highly successful people.

My father and I were never close. Not as you must be to a father. I will never really know why. I am too busy minding my own business to go investigate. It is what it is, with its rights and wrongs and life has no RWD button, only PLAY. Some time some one hits the FF button, and it ruins it because there is no RWD, no PAUSE, no STOP. maybe father regretted the lack of REWIND. Maybe. I will not regret. I will move forward. I will make sure I am to others what my father was not to me - Someone present who shows love and care and develops that through the years. Joao Pedro, my students, the children I might have someday, my own grown-ups. I don't want them wondering whether or not I loved them. I want them to know it.

Snow, ice, more snow, more ice... Spring, where are you?

Well, these past couple of weeks have been giving us a few days of above freezing temperatures. And snow, good, beautiful, sexy snow hasn't fallen in a while.

All that ridiculously tall snow that you saw there in my facebook pictures has been melting into nothingness for two weeks.

So you think, Yay! That's awesome! Snow is almost gone!

Well, yeah, yay! That's awesome! But I do like the dang snow. I like it when it falls dry and cute! I hate it when it falls wet and heavy, or frozen. I hate freezing rain.

Why? Duh! A few weeks ago we had a normal rain fall after some snow.Then the temperature went down again. Guess what happened? The wet ground turned into frozen ground. Guess what happened when I tried going down the steps of my back door. Guess!!!

Right! A whole entire day not being able to sit down. Very pleasant feeling!

Then a few days later, we had freezing rain. Again, freezing rain is the one that falls as water and sits as ice. I thought, "If the school has not canceled it's because it is not as bad." Lethal mistake. The school did not cancel because it had no more days to spare.

On my way out I had a clue, by looking at Dean's caramelized car that ice was sitting on the ground.

I left the garage using extreme caution, scared to death, and at the end of the street I was supposed to stop behind a truck. I was SUPPOSED to stop. So I patted the breaks, the ways they say you're supposed to do in order not to lose control of the car. Did it work? Well, let's see, have you ever tried to put the car into an ice skating rink and then push the brakes? Well, if you have not, let me clarify it to you - brakes and nothing are the same thing. I realize the only way I would not end up in the truck's butt would be by swerving the car onto a snow pile on the sidewalk. And I did it. After the snow stopped my car I tried putting it back on the road. It worked! Of course I was not a bit in shock. I just kept repeating to myself, "I hope I make it to work alive, I hope I make it to work alive." But that kind of thinking is normal. Everyone thinks like that every day as they leave for work.

I got onto the highway. I don't know I got there in one piece, but I did. And now you're thinking, "the highway has no ice because of the traffic." Another mistake. All of a sudden, we all started going 30 an hour. ... Why? Simple! Because everyone saw the pick-up truck on top of the guard rail in the middle of the road and no one wanted to end up the same way, or worse!

I got to work and about 50% of the students did not go to school. In this 50% you can include all of my students. The students who did show up were in shock because mom and dad crashed the car on the way to school.

It's days like these that make you wonder about where is good sense when people are deciding to cancel class.

What do I know?

What if I had done things differently?

What if I had had a real dad?

What if I had stayed in Brazil?

What if I had said something else to him?

What if I had known what to say?

What if things, all things, had been different? The fact of the matter is things are what they are. I did what I did, my father was never my dad, I moved away to America, I never said any more than what I had to, I never knew what else to say to a man who was supposed to be so important to me, but was never really part of my life.

What-ifs? What-ifs are not life. Life is what-is. And life goes on, always moving forward, never stopping for anyone to take a break as they please, or need. As the song Aquarela says, “without asking for permissions, it changes our lives and then invites us to laugh or to cry.”

So, as it must happen to all who live, death came to the man who was my father. And, as much as there was never a real father-daughter relationship between us, I was left behind to pick up the pieces of that which could have been and to cry the loss of that which I never really had.

It's hard to describe the feelings right now. Ever since I heard the news it's been hard to describe anything.

I feel sad. Sadness is probably the easiest feeling to describe. Because it's so general. I find myself crying often and I try to figure out why.

Why do I feel sad and do I cry for the loss of what I never really had?

I feel sad and I cry because I, as a human being, I treasure memories and relationships, as few the memories and as wrong relationships as they might be.

I feel sad and I cry because I just lost my father. A father with whom I shared memories and had a relationship, as few the memories and as wrong the relationship have been.

I feel sad and I cry because I am dealing, in a very close way, with Death.

Death. Why is Death the only thing certain in life, and yet we, human beings, have such a hard time dealing with it? As a human being, I don't deal well with loss. We always wish there was more time. Time to fix the things that were not fixed. Time to enjoy the things that were not enjoyed. Time to say things that were not said. We always know, or think we know, that something else could have been done. Isn't that true? We wish things were ideal, even though everything about our world is not ideal.

Death. Why does it bother us to be faced with it? Because, as a human being, when I am faced with death I must acknowledge the fact that it comes to all of us, and it will come to me. When faced with death we must acknowledge our own finitude. We realize we are finite beings. And, while through life, we bury many who ceased to live as we go on, there will come a day, very soon, when others will be burying us, and they will go on. On to meet their own end some day, in a future that we won't be there to see. And Life goes on. And Death comes to all who live.

I suddenly realize that life is so short! Here today, gone tomorrow. Those of us who are lucky will live past 70 or 80. Those of us who are really lucky will live past 90. And a very selected few will get to see a century of life. But really? What are 100 years to live? Nothing!!!

There's so much to do and so little time. There's so much that goes undone. Saved for later. My father died without ever seeing the money his old job owed him for a good 20 years! Money I hope we get someday, it's true, but that does not change the fact that he died waiting for it. To him it does not matter anymore. A lot of people treat the dead as if they knew things. They are happy for us, where ever they are. They are vindicated, they are this or that! The dead don't know anything! Isn't that what the Bible says? That money, my father will never see it! It might come to us, his children. It might even be a good thing for us, when and if it comes. But my father died on hold. Never to know what will be done of it …

So why else does facing death bother us so much? Because of what is left undone, unreceived, untold. I guess we don't fear death as much as we fear the un-lived life. A life lived forever waiting for the right time, a right time that never comes. A life lived on hold.

There are a few Brazilian sayings about not living life: "We only regret the things we don't do", "We have plenty time to sleep when we're dead", "Those who sleep much, live little". I can't help, when thinking about these things, but asking: What am I waiting for? Why do I wait to say things, to do things, to show love to others? Why do I wait to do what I must? Why do I wait to have fun, to go to that special place, to eat that special food? Why do I put my life on hold, when I don't know for how much longer I have this life? Why do we all?

Death is always going to be sad. It would be better if it never came, I think. Seriously, who likes to say good-bye? I know I don't. And I do it a lot. It is never, ever fun. However, if we realized that saying good-bye to life is inevitable, wouldn't we live a fuller life? I don't know.

I don't fancy to know the final answer to any of these things I mentioned here. I'm just a girl facing death in a very real way and trying to make sense of it. Trying to deal with feelings I don't fully understand. And all I know is I don't know how much time I have, or how much time anyone I love has. All I know is I want to make the best of the time we have left. That's all I know. Will this knowledge be enough when death crosses my path again? I can't even say I know that much.

getting married, having children... children???

All of my childhood friends are now married (some divorced, it's true, but they have been married). Many of them are even having children already!

Well, it's a weird thought, you know. Because when I think of us , I think of us as children. Because we've known each other as children. And then, all of a sudden, what happened? We're all married! Heads of household, housewives...

And then some of us have babies of their own??? Babies???

Ok, call me selfish, but I don't think I want a baby in my life anytime soon. I don't. I just don't. I have been an au pair, a nanny, a baby-sitter. So don't take me wrong. I love children. Children are fun. But do I want one of my own?

Do you know what that means? To have a baby of your own? DO you really know what that means?

Well, first, it means that my tummy will grow. I will look ugly!!! Then, if I am not lucky, my tummy will forever have stretch marks and it will be saggy.

Then there's childbirth. I am scared to death of having a baby come out of my body. TO DEATH!!! It must hurt like hell! And I am not a very good person when it comes to dealing with pain. Ask Dean, my husband. He often tries to squeeze my pimples. Believe me, I put on a heck of a show when he tries to squeeze my pimples.

Then there's raising the dang thing. Yeah! You have to raise them!!! It's not just popping the thing out of your body and give it a name! You have to raise the freaking thing! And it's not like you raise them for 18 years and send them off into the world. No!!! They will come back to haunt you. I know that. Ask my mom. Ask my parents-in-law. In Brazil we say "Raised children, double trouble."

Besides, they are expensive, those munchkins! They need clothing, and food, and toys. Then there's doctors visits and medicine. Then there's lessons - music, sports, etc. Then, don't forget the fact that they are going to be paying passengers every time we want to get on an airplane.

Sometimes I think, "Boy, I really want children. I really want a little munchkin to go out in the snow with me and play. We'd laugh and push each other around... Dean and I would be so happy if we had little miniature us to tease..." Then I think of the responsibility. Then I think we will be stuck with them for the rest of our (or their) lives. That's when those dreamy desires of snow-playing children suddenly vanish.

I don't want to get old

I don't want to get old. Why should I have to?

I remember when I was a kid I did not want to grow up. And I still feel like I don't. It's just fun being a kid. I do still feel like I am a kid. Ok, a kid with work to go and bills to pay and some grown-up perks at night, but a kid nonetheless.

So why do I have to get old? Old age does something really bad to people – it wrinkles their skin. Have you noticed that? I don't want that. I don't want my skin to be wrinkled. It looks fine the way it is. It looks fine!

What else? It gives people white hair! And because I did not get my great-grandma's genes (she was 86 and you could count a handful of whites, I know I will be one of those who needs to schedule regular visits to the hairdresser – yes, because you'll see me dead before you see me white-headed.

Call me vain, if you want. I don't care. I am vain. I do enjoy looking at myself in the mirror and going like – Dang, I'm beautiful! I do enjoy showing off what God gave me. I do enjoy super short skirts and blouses that draw every curve, or any type of clothing that lets the world know the material here is first class.

I hate the fact that beauty, as well as life, won't last a long as I wish it would. Why can't I just be 21 forever? Yes, I mean for ever. Like I want to live 100, 200, 300 years! I want to see everything that will happen and I want to be 21 so I can enjoy it. Who cares if everyone I know will be dead? I have been living away from my best friends for years now. It stinks, but I have survived. You meet new people, and even though they are not like your best friends, you can still enjoy their company. I wouldn't mind. I just wish I could.

But really, really, really, I just wish I did not have to get old. Even though I don't want to die anytime soon.

white shit time

You know the story of the white shit, right? It's that journal of the Brazilian guy who moves from São Paulo to Pennsylvania and thinks everything is wonderful and beautiful in the beginning of the fall and in the beginning of the winter, until the beautiful cotton-white snow turns into white shit by mid-winter!

Well it is my theory that everyone who lives here, Brazilian or American alike, goes through that process every year. In the beginning of the winter the snow is beautiful white pieces of cotton. From the middle to the end of the winter it turns into white shit.

Today was officially my day to stop thinking that snow looks like little pieces of cotton flying through the air and start calling it white shit.

I got up early to help hubby leave for work. We shoveled the snow off the driveway to make way for the car. The snow was beautiful and dry, and it came to our shovels easily and it left our shovels just as easily.
I thought to myself, "later on I will come out and shovel again before my bubby gets home." Well, later on the snow turned to freezing rain (when the rain falls and freezes as it touches the cold surface). Do you know what happens at times like these? A fine layer of ice covers everything just like sugar on creme brule.

So there I went. The sweet, cute fluffly dry snow had now turned into wet and heavy white shit. And I had to get the whole driveway done. The whole freakishly long driveway. Oh, yes, when you have to shovel wet snow, any driveway is freakishly long. And I still had to do the front and back doors as well, and thanks to God, some one had done our sidewalk.

Oh, yes! To top it off, I had menstrual cramps. You know, if you are girl, what means - they are those cramps that only a liter of morphine could possibly make go away. But I don't usually store morphine in the house, you know.

About 30 minutes into the ice shoveling, I had to get rid of the two winter coats I had on, because I was already sweating bullets. The cramps were gone. The pain had moved to the upper arms.

About an hour after that I took off my scarf and put it down on the snow. 90 minutes later I would come back to find a frozen scarf on the snow.

As soon as I took off the scarf, these 2 boys walk by, carrying shovels. "Do you need help?" I said "I'm all set," when I obviously still had 3/4 of the driveway to do. "Are you sure?" "Yeah! Tks though!"
See, I figured they were teenage boys (couldn't tell from the distance) hoping to get money for helping me. Well, God gave me arms and legs and youth - for now. I can afford to refuse help. I figured I could not let the boys help me than go like, "will you take a check?" Since we never carry money on us... or keep it in the house...

So I went on alone, wearing just a sweatshirt and snow pants. And gloves. 2 pairs of gloves.

I was done with the whole driveway 1.5 hours after that teenager episode. I took photos from the before. I forgot to take one of the after. I was so tired ... and frozen. Really, my hair was frozen. And so was my sweatshirt and my hat. Maybe I will take pictures of the fruit of my work to morrow before leaving for work.

When I got home it was already almost 4pm. 5 Minutes later hubby was home. I thought I was going to have a hot cocoa by myself. Well, I didn't have to.

I guess I should really learn how to operate that snow blower.

Summer, where are you?

No snow day so far. No fun. No making snowmen. No snow angels. No sledding. No hot cocoa. But everything outside reminds me it's winter. The snow that fell as if not wanting to is still sitting there - on the grass, and on the sidewalks. Muddy and ugly on the side of the streets. My sore arms still remind me I had to shovel the end of the driveway. Just the end. The snow chose the right place to sit - the end of the driveway. As if saying, I'm not letting you out until you give me some blood.

The temperatures have been bellow or close to freezing everyday.

Meanwhile in Brazil...

My family enjoys the warmth of the sun and the salty breeze of our beach. My beach. The one I chose to leave behind.

They celebrate the arrival of a new year standing outside, in shorts and spaghetti straps.

I know. I chose this life for me. I just wish the cold didn't have to come with it. I don't belong in a place with cold weather. A kind of weather that makes me shiver for a good quarter of an hour for every 5 minutes I spend outside. A kind of weather that forces me to cover everything I'm so proud to show. A kind of weather that simply tells me heartlessly and coldly that I must rethink my wardrobe.

I tell you what. It's envy. The cold weather has envy of what God gave me. And it does not want me to show it off to the world. So it keeps remind me to cover myself in layers and layers of winter gear.

I tell you what, cold weather. You won't win. I will not end my days here, where you tell me what to wear. And tell me how sore my arms will be from shoveling the snow you bring. Some day I will leave you. Some day I will go back to my place - my beach. Where I can walk in my bikinis all day long, and shower outside anytime I want. Where I can climb my cashew tree and eat mangoes and drink coconut water as much as I want.

Who will be laughing then, envious cold weather? Who will be laughing then?

Learn to play the guitar in Russian

The hardest part about learning how to play the guitar in English is having to re-learn music language.

You'd think it's the reading of the staff or the positioning of your fingers. Well, those are all pretty hard. (I should have learned it as a child. Instead I played the brat and lost my chance. And my mom was never very much adept of second chances)

But, yeah, those are all hard things to learn. However those are hard things for everyone one.

It's hard having to understand that DÓ RÉ MI FÁ SOL LÁ SI are now called C D E F G A B

Bemol and sustenido are flat or sharp, and I don't even know which one is which.

See, maybe if you are a musician, those transfers are easier to you. But I am not. I am just a girl who likes to sing her favorite songs and who would like to play them in the guitar, just for fun.

Makes me think of my ELL students trying to learn science, math, social studies in English. They are not scientists or mathematicians, or historians or geographers. They are just normal children trying to survive in school.

Just like you and me once were.

And they have to relearn school language in English.

If you want to understand how your ELL students feel in your class, trying learning music in Russian or something.

My experience at a laundromat - clueless!!! like a sore thumb

This is a new experience for me - Today I was at a laundromat drying my clothes.

Quite an adventure.

I had no idea what to do at first. Here I was, trying to read every sign and pretend I was in complete control of the situation.

Can you imagine the scene? - hope your dryer never breaks down on you.

It's negative Celsius outside, by the way. Just a little side note. NEGATIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NE-GA-TIVE! Hey! I'm from Brazil, remember! Negative Celsius is bad!

• • Then I found out they have this wheeled basket I could have used to push my wet laundry around the store instead of dragging the bag across the floor.
    
    Everything about my being there screamed: NEWBIE.
    
    Now I understand the true meaning of the phrase "sticking out like a sore thumb"
  • Maybe you're not supposed to talk to other people's children in a laundromat. This lady was looking at me like I was the devil. I took a quick look at myself - not wearing a mini skirt, tight pants, low cuts... It's winter! I'm not myself! Why was she looking at me like I was the devil? I just smiled at the little guy and said "excuse me little guy, can I walk by here?"
    
    And by the way!!! The guy running the place was Asian!!! Just like in the song!!! "UN, DOS, TRES! TEM JAPONES LÁ NA LAVANDERIA! UN, DOS, TRES! UM PASSA E O OUTRO TRAZ!"
    
    I went to him to ask for coins, because I no longer carry this ancient form of money called cash on me. Had to go get some at the ATM and go to the guy to exchange it for coins!
    
    I sort of hoped they's do that, because it would be a smart thing to do at a coin-op laundromat. And I was right.
    
    I am pretty smart!
    
    Then I wanted to say ARIGATO, to show off what's left of my Japanese skills, but I was afraid he was like Korean or Chinese and kicked me out of his place for offensive behavior to his culture!
    
    So I just played the ignorant monolingual and said, "Thanks!"

Learning a new game

I learned to play a new game last week. It's called Mancala. No, I know you know that Mancala is not a NEW game per se. it's a new game for me however.

I had seen children playing. And I even knew my husband had played it as a kid, but I had not the slightest idea what on earth that game was. to me it was just a bunch of little marbles being moved around. And fast. My goodness, those kids move those marbles around fast!

Anyway, one of my students became my teacher last week and taught me how to play the mancala and I am very happy about it. I love learning new thigns. Especially new games!

Paul on SNL

Yes, I am talking about Paul McCartney, the only other man in my life other than my husband and my two brothers.

He will be on SNL this Saturday and I will try to go see him.

And no, I don't want to go see him just because I am desperately in love wit him. I probably would not go through the trouble of getting in SNL if I did not have a very specific goal in my mind. I want Paul to receive my book. The one I wrote about the time machine. "The Little Girl from Yesterday".

I don't care if I never talk to him, though I wold appreciate the chance. I want him to read my book. Come on, I have waited my whole entire life to get this book to him. Only now I felt I actually had the knowledge to translate it into English. Now that it's ready, it's time he gets a copy of it.

So I don't care if he doesn't talk to me. I just want him to read my book.
LOL! Any resemblance to Paperback Writer is a mere coincidence.

Hard part of buying a guitar: learning how to play

So, I bought my guitar. I bought a Dean. No, not because it is the name of my love, well, ok, yes, it is because it's the name of my love, but I made sure to ask around first. People said it is a good guitar.

So I went to the store and checked out some models. I really wanted to buy the sunburst one, because being desperately in love with Paul McCartney - the other love of my life - I figured I'd get something that reminded me of him. Besides, the first guitar I ever saw in my life, in my church, was like that and I remember being mesmerized by the way the colors blended together. It was like... candy.

But then I thought, "No, I don't want to get something just to look like it's Paul McCartney's stuff. Besides, I am never going to be a hundredth of what he is, so... no. I actually want something that looks girly, like me. I wanted one that looked really made of pixie dust. However Dean guitars did not have any pixie-dusty stuff, and I really wanted the Dean. SO I got a red one. ... Yeah, girly enough. Cute like me. It reminds me of Kevin - my first car.

Once I knew what I wanted, I just waited fro Black Friday to come along and ordered it online. The discount? The discount was lousy. So much for waiting for Black Friday discounts. 15%. 15%??? What kind of a Black Friday sale gives you a mere 15-freaking-% discount? I don't know!!! Lousy. But I had to get my guitar on that day or I'd die!

No my guitar is here and I am trying to figure out how to learn it. I'm either a lousy learner or this guitar playing thing really is not the easiest thing in the world.

The tip of my fingers are hurting. My baby says that's how it's supposed to be. Man! I wish it was just like this - Get a guitar and Boom! Now you magically know how to play anything you want, starting with Puff the Magic Dragon, passing by Sandy & Junior, the king - Roberto - and ending with the Beatles.

Can't it just be that easy?

Abbey Road Brasileira - us - young, free and irresponsible

left to right:

Lua,*

Jamile,

Beta,*

Fernanda,

Vika,*

Samara.

*BFFs

Us - Beta, Lua and I - the Die Hard Trio. Someone decided to call Us that because Us were always together. Up and down the city. Laughing & crying, fighting & making up. Us. Always together. Always Us.

And we did lots of crazy stuff together.

Some of them were caught on camera:

• Us laying on the floor of the parking garage at the mall.

• Us on the crosswalk “a la Abbey Road”. Just that we were dancing and jumping, instead of calmly crossing like John, Paul, George and Ringo.

• Us swinging from the lamp post in front of McDonald's.

• Us holding the covers of all our Beatles CDs.

• Us throwing eggs on my head to celebrate my b-day.

• Us sleeping over at my aunt's.

• Us doing group hug.

• Us at my wedding.

Lots of crazy stuff we did together were never caught on camera:

• Us crying on each other's shoulder every time a boyfriend did not work out.

• Us making plans to live together and eat Ramen Noodles for ever.

• Us making plans of world domination.

• Us yelling at each other for never getting a chance to say anything.

• Us yelling at each other for being late for our meeting at the mall.

• Us screaming at the TV while we watched an old Beatles TV show.

• Us being loud and messy on the bus.

• Us growing apart and growing closer again.

• Us saying we were sorry.

• Us telling secrets that we won't even tell our moms.

Us. Always Us.

I miss Us.

I miss having friends like Us.

No books? No texting? No way!

So I went for the MTEL on Saturday morning. And I was aware that there was a no electronics policy. So I left my cell in the car and grabbed myself a book. As soon as I walked into the classroom and sat down however, the proctor told me - you must not have a book on you.

A book? I thought. Must not have? Must not have a book?

Ok, I said. What do I do with it? Put it away by the window together with everyone else's pocket books.

Well, a policy is a policy, those who have the power make them, those who have working brains obey them. So I put the book away.

And for the next 30 minutes I sat there suffering from some sort of withdrawal syndrome - no book to read, no phone to mess around with. What am I supposed to do? I felt weird. I felt empty. I felt as if those 30 minutes would never come back. And I was wasting them by doing nothing.

Weird do-nothing feeling! Not used to it.

best of both worlds? can't have it.

I miss my friends.

When it comes that time in which you just want to be irresponsible, and do silly things, and just be your silly old self, you realize you miss your friends more than everything in life.

It's november 19, 2010, and I just found out Paul McCartney - yes, Paul McCartney, my favorite singer ever and the only guy I've liked for longer than my husband - is going to be playing at the SNL on December 11.

My husband said he'd come with me to NYC, to try something insane - stand in line for stand-by tickets for SNL the night before.

"However," says hubby, "if you can get a girl friend to go with you, I will stay home."

My baby is doing that for me - stand a whole night in a line to TRY to see Mr. McCartney - for me. How could I possibly ask God for a husband better than that? A husband who will put up with my madness?

I know he'd rather not go. He'd rather stay home and sleep in his nice cozy bed. If only I had a friend to go with me.

And that's when I realized - I have those friends. I have friends who would drop everything and come on an insane trip to try to see Paul, with me, without thinking twice. But they live a continent away.

I look around me, where I live, in this country I chose to be my home, and I don't see a single friend I'd dare to invite to join in for one of my crazy ideas.

Other than my husband, this angel sent from heaven, no one else would drop everything for me.

They say we only value things after we lose them.

That's not true for me.

I always knew what the girls and I had was special. I always knew our friendship was the most precious jewel I could have. I always knew it. We knew it. From the moment we decided we were going to be best friends, no matter what, we knew we were on to something special.

I just didn't realize how terribly I'd miss it. And how guilty I'd feel for having chosen to leave.

Even though our friendship is still there, I am not. I'm here, in the US - all by myself - while they are there, in my Brazil, with the rest of the stuff I chose to leave behind.

Maybe it's true that you can't have the best of both worlds.

I miss you, girls. Please, forgive me.

more crazy dreams: Freedom, mom, and Paul McCartney

Why did I care so little about being with my family when I was a teenager? While everyone of my peers was terrified about spending a weekend away from mom and dad, I couldn't wait to get out of the house and see the world. "How silly can they be?" I asked myself.

Mom always told me, "I did not raise you for myself. I raised you to go out and see the world. I raised you to go after your dreams. I raised you to be free." So I guess she succeeded. I went out and saw the world. I followed my dreams. I didn't achieve everything I ever wanted, but I went after my dreams one by one with as much passion as I could, prioritizing the ones I thought were really important, leaving others in the back burner, I am still going after my dreams. The only part of that speech I could not accomplish was the "be free" part. I wake up every morning at 6 and go to work all day at a job I am not fond of. I left the job of my dreams to land something that would pay the bills and my dream vacations. Maybe I am free, just that I have to finance my own freedom. Mom also raised me to be responsible.

Why did I care so little about being with my family, while my peers were terrified about leaving home? Because mom told me too.

However today, as most of my peers are out in the world, with families of their own, and as they don't worry so much about being away from mom and dad anymore, why do I feel terribly homesick? Why do I miss mom and grandma and aunts more than anything? I do have a family of my own, as I have always dreamed of, ( no children, yet - I happen to value my freedom) but I wish, oh how I wish, I could just get in a car anytime and go see mommy, and just ask for a hug.

I had a nightmare last night. Mom and I were alone in a fancy house and someone bad tried to break in. I woke up crying, "Mom! Mommyyyy! Mo-o-o-o-ommm!" Mom came. We were at a pool house. With sliding window doors, and thick curtains. "It was just a bad dream. It's ok. Just make sure you lock the doors at night." That's when I woke up for real, and I was in my bed at Cross Street. With my husband's cat. My baby is away with his family. Just lock the doors, I remembered. Are the doors all locked? It's 12:30. Are the doors all locked? Well the doors to my floor are locked. What about the main doors to the house? I never lock them. Oh, my God, I never lock the main doors! And I am home alone! Of course I was still in a dream state. I ALWAYS lock the main doors. They are usually the only doors I lock. But in my half-awake half-asleep mind, I thought I never did. I tried called my baby, but he would not pick up the phone. He always says, "Wake me up if you have a nightmare." I tried.

I did not have a husband last night. I did not have Mommy last night. I was all alone... with my husband's cat to take care of.

Oh, you bet if someone broke into the house, the cat would be the last of my worries. I guess that shows I am not ready to be a mom.

But since my mind was half asleep, I closed my eyes again. Asked God to take care of me and my house, and went back to sleep.

I was with mommy, at the airport. And we spotted the one man I have loved since I was 10 years old. You guessed it! Paul McCartney! No fans. No crew. No band. No TV reporters. Just him. I'm sure he had his band with him. I am sure he was just wondering around the airport looking for something. I was hoping he was looking for me. But I knew he was not. There's a whole lot of things to do at an airport.

I was scared of talking to him and finding out he was not as nice as I always thought he'd be. But I went ahead anyway, and he was super nice. I asked for an autograph. "I can't talk right now. But give me 5 minutes and I will be back." And he was back! He gave me his autograph and I asked for a hug. A hug, of course. Would I have the nerve to ask for a hug in real life? Oh, I don't know. Maybe I will find it out someday. "Can I give you a hug?" it is the one thing I always ask him every time I have a dream in which he shows up. I was so mesmerized by having Paul right there that I could not talk about any subject for more than 5 seconds. It was like trying to fit everything you've always wanted to tell someone for the past 20 years in the few minutes you know you'll have that person with you. Then you'll never see him again.

"We're stuck here because our plane fell off the sky." "What?" Yup, I got his attention now. Just before he showed up, I saw a plane falling off the sky. I was the only one who had seen it and no one had paid attention to me until now. "Yes! I saw it! It was right over there! It just ...fell! Like this: voosh." He looked at where I was pointing as if what he had been thinking had started to make sense. Had he seen it too?

But then he really had to go. And so he did. "Nice meeting you." And only then I remembered, Your novel! Tell him about your novel! Oh, gee! Seriously? You could think of all mundane things in the world to spill out at Paul McCartney, except to tell him you wrote a novel? How stupid can you be? When will you have Paul McCartney's undivided attention again? Uh, never! Go after him! Run! And that's when I forgot I was a grown-up, I forgot Paul was walking around trying to be a normal person, I forgot Beatlemania was over and I ran and called out his name. Wow, I never knew calling out Paul McCartney's name would work out magic. Like magic, security people came up and made sure I did not get anywhere near him. "Wait! I wrote a novel about the Beatles. Can I send it to you? Will you read it?"
"Can you make it into a books on tape?"
"How about kindle?"
"I don't have one."
"Books on tape it is."
And then he really had to go.

So I took my plane home and in it I had a dream I really had a time machine and young Paul and a couple of my friends and I ended up in some early 20th century civilization and had to escape these evil people. Indiana Jones style. Now, yes, this was the young Paul from the Beatles years. However, he held a camcorder. A portable one. Like the one his son brought to Brazil in 1993.

We're struggling for our lives and you have a camcorder? Ok, help me up this rope first. You can film again as soon as you push be back to safety. He didn't look happy, almost as if saying, all you need me for is to keep you safe? What about my film? "Come on! We're running out of time!" Whatever, said the look in his face, if being safe is that important to you, I guess I will help. "Here, hold my camcorder, and I will push you up."

Yup, pretty surreal. Can you imagine someone going like, ok I know we're about to die, but, crap, let me get this on film! LOL! If anyone would do that it would probably be me!

Think of me - anti-homework version - by Vika

So much homework to do. All piled up. And I feel nothing like doing it. I hate homework. Hate it! Hate it! With all my heart, mind and soul!

I remember my middle school years, when I used to sing those anti-school versions of famous songs, the ones that use to be love songs and we turned into songs that talked about how much we did not want to go to school, like Roberto Carlos famous, "Everything can go to hell". Instead of "What good is the sun shining in the beautiful sky?", we sang "What good are books for students to study?" It's kind of like what Weird All does.

I don't know who wrote this Roberto Carlos version. What I do know is that I wrote this one version of "Pense em Mim" (Think of Me), by country duo Leandro & Leonardo. I will write the English translation here. It's reall just a translation, if you try singing it, it won't match. It's just to give you an idea of what we used to sing.

Think of Me - anti-homework version By Vika

"Instead of you staying home doing homework

Instead of you worrying about homework

Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me

No, don't do your homework

Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me

No, don't do your homework

Homework...

Forget about homework

Look outside, it's the best of the sun, the sun, the sun -ooh, ooh

Makes me feel like going out

Let's hop on the first bus

headed to the Barra Lighthouse

At the Barra Lighthouse

Only you and me

Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me

No, don't do your homework

Come and play, grab your soccer ball, come run with me

No, don't do your homework

Homework...

Forget about homework"

Ah, Good old middle school years... Of course I could not forget about homework! I was responsible. But homework was torture. So I wrote this other anti-school version of a famous Leandro e Leonardo song: (again, this is just the word by word translation, if you try singing it in English it will sound really bad)

I'm sorry but I will cry (Desculpe mas eu vou chorar) - anti-school version by Vika again

The lights of my room are on

showing all the books on my desk

And I am sitting here with me

in sheer torment

I hear my friends playing outside

I'm the only who's here working

I'm the family nerd at work

that's my lament

Then I start to wonder

"is studying really worth it?"

The sometimes I even think

"I will run away"

But then I come to my senses

I don't want a bad grade in English

And I still have to do my Portuguese homework

I will cry, I am sorry, but I will cry

I can't study anymore, I can't take that much pressure

I will cry, I am sorry, but I will cry,

But when Christmas time is here, I will not be in Summer School"

The Little Girl From Yesterday

So, I was telling people about my book yesterday at belly dancing practice.

And one of my classmates told me her mom sneaked into the Beatles hotel room when she was a kid. And here was I thinking this kind of stuff only happened in movies... naive me...

Another classmate told me about this one little girl that simply walked up to John Lennon's door and asked for an autograph. Apparently he was impressed by how bold the little girl was and they became friends...

Ay,ay, if I had a time machine...

Anyway... if I do discover Paul McCartney's address, don't you think I will not go asking for an autograph? LOL No!!! I will go ask him to read my book. You bet I will.

Linda & Paul

Last night I had this dream that I got to meet Paul and Linda McCartney. That's a stupid dream because Linda passed away over 10 years ago. I was really upset when that happened. First I was sad for Paul and his family. He really loved her. Second I was upset because I really wanted to meet her (and him of course), some day. I just hope I get to meet him someday.

On a happier note, I really can't wait till I can start my guitar lessons. When the semester is over I will start. I can't start now because all of my nights are taken. Next semester I will save my Mondays for guitar lessons.

I am loving belly dancing lessons.

And I am having a blast with the drama club at school. The kids looooooove it. And I love leading them. It's my little way of keeping in touch with drama. I miss my drama team so much!

I want to go back to Bahia

Winter time is getting closer. The leaves are turning. Soon the sun will not warm up my body anymore. And for a very long time.

I want to go back to Bahia. I just want to go back to Bahia.

Dreams of freedom

One more week starts today. Lêlê! Lêlê! Back to slavery!

The saying goes "When you see a slave sleeping, do not wake him up. He might be dreaming of freedom." But unfortunately, my alarm clock does wake me up every morning at 6am.

Drama Club

Absolute success!!!
Sign-up for clubs were today, and drama club was the among the most popular ones. It's really fun to see all those kids desperately trying to sign up for it. Some kids really want to make it to Nickelodeon or Disney Channel. I hope they do.
I mean, what are the chances that when they become famous they will say it on an interview, "I owe it all to my drama teacher, Mrs. Winters!" Nah, not happening. But I would be happy if one of my kids did achieve such dream.
I don't know if any one of them will be a famous actor or actress someday. But I do hope they have a good time in my club. I hope they enjoy bringing their characters to life. And I hope drama helps them in life, as much as it helped me.

The kids are excited. We're going to have a good year.

My B-day!!!... next June... I CAN'T WAIT! I CAN'T WAIT!

I can hardly wait for my b-day next year!
I will arrive in Salvador exactly on the 29th of June. I want a lot of St.John's food and a karaoke.
And then? Want more? My bffl Lua's bachelorette's party that we will plan nice and good.
Then we will have a friendship throw-back celebration time doing the exact same madness that we used to do when we were kids! We will make shirts with our names on them - the BLV shirts (Beta, Lua and Vika). We will drive the store owners mad by trying out all of their clothes and buying none. We will sit at the food court and make fun of funny looking people. We will be loud and obnoxious! Typical teenagers! But, hey, this is all about a throw-back, isn't it? Isn't it about celebrating the good'ol'times?
Then I will make shirts for my 2 brothers and I with the Jason Vorhees mask on them. A celebration of brother/sisterhood. And we will sit down and watch scary movies!
And then? Want more? There's more!!! There's the 15th b-day of my little bro JP.
What else? Then there's the knot-tying of my bffl Lua.
And, as if that was not enough, I will wander around the wonderful Northeastern beaches with the fam.
Come, come, June! You're a good month!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! TODAY IS YOUR DAY! WHAT A VERY SPECIAL DAY!

Friend

Life is not fun without your friends. Life is not even worth living without your friends. It feels like you're dead. Look back at your most fond memories. Were you alone? Who was there with you? I bet it was a friend. I bet you were not alone.
I miss my friends.

My father is dying of cancer

My father is dying of cancer. And I have no idea what to do. I knew he had had surgery in the beginning of the year. And I saw him last time I went to Brazil. He looked so different than the way he looked at my wedding, 2 years ago.

But I don't call him much. I rarely talk to him. We don't have much in common. We don't even have much for a history together. Good memories are few, very few. Bad memories abound.
This is the guy who wanted to cheat his way out of paying child support by lying in court about his job situation, the guy who was never a part of my life for 12 years and suddenly tried to tell me my skirt was too short (!), the guy who claimed he had no money to help me out because he had a baby with another woman, the guy who said he had no money to come to my wedding - the wedding of his only daughter!
I don't have much to say to this guy. He never got really involved in my life, I never got really involved in his. Thanks to him I never knew what having a father was like. I will never know what having a father is like.
However now this man is dying of cancer. And I have no idea what to do. I know I should have called him more. But I never knew what to say.
About 2 months ago I found out he was going in for a second surgery. I called him on that day. I called him just to say I would be praying for him. What else could I say? I love you? I don't. I don't love him. I don't even know him. But he is my father. And something tells me I must check on him.

Does his poor job as a father excuse me to do a poor job as a daughter? And do I think he does not look back in his life an regret the ways he failed? Or do I think I am the only person on earth who is not destitute of the capacity of repenting or even regretting poor choices?

So I asked my middle brother Leo to keep me posted. And Leo kept me posted: "Everything went well." Then:"He is still in pain." Then:"He is coming back for another exam." ANd just last week: "The doctors said there's nothing else they can do. They will be just treating the pain."

And that's how I found out - My father is dying of cancer. This man I hardly know. This man for whom I have no feelings - good or bad. This man is my father. And he is dying of cancer. And whatever I don't do now, I will never have a second chance to make up for it.

I don't know what to do. And I don't know why I am crying now.

Saudade - I miss my family

Saudade is a bittersweet word. Saudade is a feeling, but it is translated as a verb: missing something.

But saudade is much more than that. Saudade is more than just missing something. It is more than mere nostalgia. Saudade is the emptiness filling a place that once was full. It is the bitterness left in the place of something sweet. It is the burning feeling in which your heart sinks when you no longer have that which if you did would make the feeling go away. Saudade says that something has made me happy, but now it's gone. Saudade says I want back near my eyes that which has never left my heart. Saudade is the one word I can tell my family that will be enough for them to understand I love them.

I miss my family.

Every time I go places we went together,

Every time I do things we did together,

I miss my family.

Sometimes I'm just doing something they taught me,

Sometimes I'm just doing something I know they would like to do too.

I really miss my family.

And whenever I think I never know when I will ever see them again,

I miss them even more.

And whenever I think I never know IF I will ever see them again,

I miss them so much that it hurts.

Every time we say goodbye I always wonder,

"Is this the last time?"

And I just wish I could find the words to let them know

That everything I am today,

I owe to them.

And that they mean the world to me.

I just really miss my family.

not a patriot

I'm not a patriot.

I am proud to be Brazilian and I will get mad at you if you make fun of my country. But I don't really stand up for it. I don't know why, I guess I was just raised that way. "you stay out of those crowds, so you don't get yourself in trouble.". Implied: Crowds are trouble -> Now crowds usually stand for things -> Preserving my life is more important than standing for something.
So it's not like I don't believe in things. I just don't believe in things enough to put my life in the line for it. And here I am married to an American patriot who will not think twice to participate in a rally.
Destiny does play pranks on us.
Here I am at the Restoring Honor rally. A rally dedicated to bring the USA back to its founding values. Working hard, families helping families, that kinds of stuff.
This Glenn Beck is some guy in our generation, in our time, who is calling for a restoration. Every generation needs someone like that. It's happened before.
Why won't that happen in my country? Why don't we have any one standing out for such values? Where has my country gone wrong? The country I love? Let's say from the beginning something has gone wrong. I am not sure where.
Maybe that's why in my country too many people were raised to be like me? "Stay out of those crowds. It's just not worth it." We were raised to preserve our own lives. At the cost of our country's welfare. Because it is not worth fighting a lost cause. Why do we think that way? I don't know. Could have to do with the religion we profess? Could it have to do with the kind of people that first went there? Could it have something to do with the kind of help we never got from those American founding fathers - who never really supported the Brazilian Revolution when we asked for help? Yeah, you tend not to believe the values of a person who says something is good for them, but could care less about you.

Maybe I will never know. I just know I will probably never be the kind of patriot my husband is. For any country.

Voltaire

Who can say, like Voltaire, "I might disagree from what you say, but I will fight till death for your right to say it"?

on rights and governments

The constitution says certain rights are natural, given by the creator, inalienable. And governments exist to protect those rights so other men don't take take away - governments must protect men from themselves.

However, Just because certain rights are natural and inalienable, that does not mean that governments can't grant any other rights. Certain countries grant their citizens certain rights that other countries don't. So what is wrong with that?

Why Great Britain instead of just England – heritage issues.

This was supposed to be a trip to England. We were thinking about the next place we would visit and we both knew that both of us really wanted to get to know England. We both want to visit Italy badly as well, but we settled for England for our first trip outside the American continent. I have a friend and former student who lives in England who is always asking me to go there to visit her. And my husband's heritage does go back to England. Yes, England was definitely the place that we should go first.

As a planner that I am, I got on to my computer and started planning. London, Liverpool, Bath, Nottingham, Sherwood forest. As I excitedly shared with Lu, my friend/ex-student, about our plans she even suggested we should include a couple of trips to France. Why not? it's so simple to get there from London! Lu lives nowhere near London. She, as a good Beatlemaniac, found herself a husband just a few miles away from Liverpool. Oh, when I think I taught that little girl her English... But she would not mind a trip to London and a quick escape to France!

I thought that was cool! My husband thought it was cool! That was it! We were going to see Paris, and a few Cinderella Castles, and the French Riviera. How tough could it be, right? Yeah... I know what you're thinking. Shhh, don't say anything, but she's crazy.

I soon found out however that there was too much ground to cover in France. Paris and a few castles around the area would do for a 4-day escape. After all, this is a trip to England! Or so I thought...

My talks with Lu went on. We should go camping in Scotland. Scotland? That is not England, is it? My husband however does have Scottish ancestry. He liked the idea. He also thought, since we were right there in Liverpool we should hop on a boat to Ireland and go visit an Irish pub. After all he does also have Irish - Northern Irish! The protestant ones! - ancestry.

The trip was getting packed. More packed than what I usually make sure they do. I have this problem - since I know I probably will not be going back to that place any time soon (because remember we want to travel the world before we start popping out babies), I want to include everything there is to do. And the days are packed. As in packed full. As in we-slept-soundly-through-every-night-of-our-honeymoon full.

However there's only so much cramping of activities one can do. It's not only the money issue. And do believe me, money was getting to be an issue. It was the time and distance issue. It was physically impossible to everything we wanted to do. How would you like to go on a trip that you've dreamed of going your whole life and have the feeling that you did not get to enjoy it? It was a constant hop-out! Picture! Hop-in! Quick! We must get to the next stop!

No, that was not what I wanted for our trip. It had to be enjoyable! Yes, fast-paced, packed full, but not a constant stress. That's when it hit me! We have two weeks and this trip is no longer about England and a quick escape to Paris! This trip is about the United Kingdom and a quick escape to Ireland! After all, doesn't Dean want to go visit the land of his ancestors? Doesn't he brag about the fact that he is x% English, y% Scottish, z% Northern Irish and n% American Indian? If we are going to see the land of those ancestors we can't waist time in France! France will have to come some other time. We're no longer going to England, we're going to Great Britain!

Cash?! Cash?! Cash?! Are you freaking nuts????

Why do some people still insist on using that ancient form of currency called "cash"? Why??????

Have they not heard of the invention of plastic? Nice, slim, shiny, fast! FAST! I spell it for you, indian: F-A-S-T!

It does not delay the life of everyone else waiting in line behind you!

It is easier to keep track of what you spend!

It avoids (that's right!!! Avoids!) painful and useless trips to that ancient meeting place called "the bank"!

Off the top of my head, there you are! 3 advantages for replacing your cash usage for credit card usage.

DO IT!!!!!!! And stop making everyone in line mad as you count your freaking pennies at the register!

Can you do that acording to the constitution?

If the constitution limits the power of the federal government, if, according to the constitution, anything not established in it is up to the states and the people, can the federal government establish an official language?
As a matter of fact the colonies didn't all speak one language. Aren't we forgetting our colonial past when we demand that there is a national official language?
It seems obvious to me that the government needs an official language, but imposing it on the people seems pretty unconstitutional.
Why don't the constitution defenders make no case against such a thing? Maybe because it goes against their own interests and agenda?
It's naive to think that people defending the constitution don't have an agenda, and that they will not immediately drop any trace of morals and constitution abiding ideas in order to pass their own agenda. Everyone, every sinner on the face of the Earth has an agenda, and it's just a matter of time till you find it.
Do you think I don't have one? Think again. We all do. You do too.

vacation in Brazil vs. Vacation in the U.S.

I am so sad my vacation is almost over.
I did not crave vacation in Brazil so much because in Brazil I could be on vacation any Saturday I wanted. The beach was always a 30 minute walk away.

quote from Cinema Paradiso

"When you are here everyday you believe nothing will ever change. Then you leave for a year or two. When you come back everything has changed. The thread has been broken. You don't find what you expected to find. What was yours is not there anymore. You have to go away for many years to be able to come back and find your people." Alfredo

All free man can vote

Why would anyone argue against giving every free man the right to vote?
Why should you take away from free man the right to decide the destiny of his nation based on the fact that he does not own land or has a job or pay taxes?
Is it reasonable that a thinking free citizen be taken away the right to choose his lands magistrates?
It sounds like a plan. An evil plan. A plan to keep the have-not ones out of political power.
The argument that citizens who don't pay should not be allowed to choose the people who will govern over them, because they will don't care what those people will do with the money of those who pay assumes that people can't think of what's best for society, they can ONLY think of how to find ways to rob them.
And even if that be true to many, even the majority of those. Do we take the rights of free citizens who can think what's best for society, just because we fear that there will be those who can't?
Do we not know that anywhere, under any regulations, evil selfish people will be bad and find ways to take advantage of the system? Are we going to take things away from the good people so that the bad ones won't have it? Sensibly you will have to say, no! You make it easy for the good people, and go after the bad ones.
Every man, every citizen who owes nothing to the law must be able to have a voice in saying who he wants determining the destiny of his nation. Regardless of race, social class, religion, or wealth.

Laws or lack thereof - do they pass human dignity test?

Slavery was always part of human history. What suddenly made it so bad?
Slavery was never intended to be a lifetime condition until Europeans enslaved Africans in the American continent. Slavery was never so inhuman until it got to the American continent.

As for inhuman conditions, the slave ships packed as many people could fit in a small space, with no regards for personal hygiene or the need to breath. Probably so that they could bring as many of them as possible to sell for a profit. Sell for a profit - nothing wrong with that. We're in business to make money, right?

One of the must famous Brazilian poets, known as the Poet of the Slaves, wrote about the horrifying conditions of the slave ships. Slaves in Africa were used to being enslaved, it was part of life. They were not used to the inhuman conditions and treatment until they stepped into the slave ship. What's wrong with wanting a profit, you still ask?

As for lifetime slavery, the African people were not used to the idea of lifetime slavery either. African royalties could be made slaves and then be set free again. As it had happened in so many other cultures throughout history. Slaves in the British colonies actually used to have the right to buy their freedom... some of them owned land and even had servants of their own...for a little while.
But then the law changed:
-Slaves had to be African or Indians
-Slaves could never be set free.
-Africans had no right to own land. The ones that did had their land repossessed.
Why? Why did the government make these laws thwarting the rights of human beings just because they were different?
The answer:
-There was an economical need for it. The landowners needed more workers and the free ones wouldn't do the hard work needed. Without those slaves the plantation would fail, the economy would crash, the society would flunk. There was a pressing need for stricter slave laws. The economy needed. Yes! Indeed! Would want business to fail for lack of workers?
Nothing wrong with wanting people to work to keep the economy flowing well.

In the name of keeping the economy afloat we should pass laws that disregard the rights of certain people, namely the ones who don't have, so that other people, namely the ones who have, can keep things going. What's wrong with that, you still ask?

These are all very practical ideas from a timely perspective.
Are they honorable ideas from a timeless perspective?
As a Christian, we must understand that God values humans. And as the crown of creation, we are endowed with human dignity that another human does not have the right to take away in the name of profit or progress.

What about us? Look at the things you believe in. But really look at them. At their core.
The things we believe today, the things we fight for today, the things we bless today, do they have very sound practicalities that will be best for the well functioning of the society as we know it? Are they logical and good to the free market we so cherish?
However will they stand the timeless test of honoring human dignity?
500 years from now, when Christian kids think of the things we stood for in a society that will not mean much for them then, will they think of us as awful people who did everything it took for society to thrive? Or as people who were more concerned about the absolute value of a human being?
Yes, human beings have absolute values. And this is the real test for any new laws or lack thereof: Do consider, above all else, human dignity, regardless of color, race, social class, age, born or unborn status?
Do we put practical above honorable?
I don't care how good or bad something will do for society or for the economy. If our thinking can not stand the human dignity test, it will not be justified in history. It will not be justified before God.
How do you want to be remembered 200, 300, 500 years from now? How do you want to stand before God in no more than 100 years from now?

Disclaimer: I am not writing against any specific practices or ideas in here. I am just asking you to question your beliefs - your beliefs, not those of others in the present or in history - and see if they pass the test that God would probably use.

Locks 6-6-6-6

I had to use my knowledge of Math to figure out the combination of my bike lock that had been accidentally lost.
There was no way I could recover the combination, because it was not written anywhere. I had to try one by one.
The lock was cylindrical, with a 6-6-6-6 style. There are 6 options for each of the 4 positions. 6 to the 4th power, that is 6x6x6x6 = 1,296 possibilities.
I tried 1,186 of the possible combinations.
(6x6x6) x5 = 1080
(6x6) x2 = 72
(6) x5 = 30
+4

the lands we take from others

The land the U.S. took from Mexico, who did Mexico take it from?
The land the Jewish took from the Palestinians, who did the Palestinians take it from?
The land that now belongs to Italy, who did the Roman Empire take from?
The land that now belongs to England, who did the anglo-saxons take it from?
The land that the Portuguese took from the Tupis and Guaranis, did it belong to Tupis or Guaranis? ... they couldn't seem to agree on that.
Maybe we should all just go home to some little town in main land Europe. Would that solve the world's land problems?
Yeah, I didn't think so.
Maybe, just maybe, we should let history be. The land you are born in is your homeland, I don't care who it used to belong to - it is what it is.
Brazil originally belonged to Tupi-Guarani Indians. It belongs to me and my people now. It's the only homeland we will ever know.

Doc photo

It does not matter how much I dress up for document photographs, they always come up hideous!
I am so afraid of what my picture in my new green card will look like. It did not look good on the computer screen. I was not about to make a fool out of myself and ask the officer to take another one.
I am now really mad I did not ask him to do that!

I found a friend today

"My friend, my school mate, today I sing for joy for meeting you again."
Today I met an old school mate whom I had not seen since 8th grade.
I thought I had lost him forever. I had looked for him a couple of times before. I wondered, "how can any one fall of the face of the earth like that?"
This time I lucked out.
Facebook is a beautiful thing!

Land of immigrants

Every single person in this continent then is an immigrant.

Did the immigrants wanted to leave their lands?

I don't think so. I think they loved it and were proud of it. This is just my thinking.

"If Brazil is so great, why did you come here?" People at the New Haven church used to ask me.

Why did I leave the land I was proud of? Because the land I love could not offer me decent living conditions.

Immigrants usually come here because their conditions force them to make the tough choice of leaving their land.
Religious persecution, famine, war, political persecution, dire financial situations. People come with millions of hopes of finding freedom, work and peace in a new land. A land of dreams. A land of liberty. They are happy to have found the new hope. But are they happy to leave behind everything they loved, their climate, their culture, their foods, sometimes even loved ones?
I think the answer is no. And that's why I think there is no such a thing as giving up your culture. There is no such a thing as forgetting where you came from. Unless you are so scared of showing who you are, unless you're traumatized and believing that who you are is responsible for the mess that led you here, you will want to keep the things that made you who you are. Even if for a while you don't realize that. Even if there are not many of those things that are cherished. You can renounce your history.
I am not defending that cultures should not mingle and melt, but that immigrants have the right to keep them. Keeping one's culture is what makes America so rich.

The mingling and the melting will happen naturally. Immigrants want to learn about their new home. Part of them wants to be like the people in the new place. Especially as far as the new generations are concerned. The second generation of immigrants are the true bi-cultural ones. They will naturally deal with their parents culture and their country's culture and mix them up in one thing. And hopefully keep enough of their home culture to keep this country ever richer.

disclaimer: this is an opinion piece and does not necessarily reflect the views of every immigrant.

Cross Continent

Could it be true that all the indians of this continent really came here through the Bearing Strait and then walked all the way down to South America?

Intriguing.

Sometimes I wish I did not have a life to take care of. I wish money was not an issue, I wish bills did not come every month. I wish I could put life on hold to travel on foot across the American continent, like the indians might have done.

Sometimes I just wish I could have lived every time of human history just to do these things I can only imagine and read about. Sometimes reading about things is just not enough. I really wish my time-machine was real and it took me places and times and allowed me to live a little of other lives.

The rest of the Disney ... er... Orlando Trip - Saturdayday

The alarms, both of them, rang at the right time. We chose to ignore them.

SO we left a few minutes late.

We saw a gas station as we were getting closer to the airport. But we chose to ignore it. Add 15 more minutes to the trip looking for a new gas station. One thing Dean and I have not learned to do yet is do the whole drive/navigate thing in harmony.

By the time we got to the airport we should be boarding.

Then the lady at the checkin counter could not find our tickets. Another 15 minutes.

When we had to go through security we waisted like 30 minutes because only one booth was working for all the national flights. I was bringing razor blades that I was going to try to convince them to let me take with me, cuz after all they cost me money, but at that point in time, I did not want to convince anyone of anything - just throw them all away! Quick quick quick!

When we finally go to security, guess who got picked for a random more detailed inspection? My husband.

See, that's why you don't start your day wrong. That's why you get up with the alarm. Because once you get one thing out of place, once you are five minutes late, you're done! Your whole day spins out of control. It's like a domino effect.

When he was let go by the security people, we put our shoes on and legs-why-do-I-need-you, as we say in Brazil. that means we ran as if our lives depended on it.

Wait! Honey wait! I don't care how late we are. I can not , I have no air in my body anymore. I am not physically prepared for that. The plane will have to wait.

I was the one who voiced it, but he was not much better than me.

We continued our way to the boarding area, at a fast pace, but no longer running. I was never a runner, I was always a wimpy, skinny, non-sportive little girl who would be taken by any strong wind had we had those in Brazil. It was not going to happen in plain adulthood. I was not about to become a runner not to miss my flight. Not unless God came down from heaven and performed a miracle, which he did not do.

We hurried. We got to the boarding area and the words from the airline person were "Dean and Virginia? We were waiting for you! Come right in!"

I felt like a rock superstar.

"Do you hate us already?"

"Not at all! You are just in time!"

As we walked into the airplane, I saw the looks - all eyes on me. And they were not kind eyes.

I overheard someone say "About time!"

Rockstar feeling was gone.

But at least we were in there, we were on our way home.

When we got to DC for our connection however, which was supposed to be a 2 hour layover, we found out that our plane was going to be delayed 2 more hours.

"Are you serious?"

"There is a problem in the plane and we are trying to make sure it's all fixed up." the airline lady told us.

"BY all means! Take your sweet time! Dont get me in that thing until you can take me home safely. I'd rather stay here all night!

And safely we got home. Late at night, but safely.

Thank you Lord, for a wonderful vacation, and a wacky, but safe return.

The rest of the Disney ... er... Orlando Trip - Friday

So the last day came. It came too fast. Even though those days there felt like a lifetime of fun, the end came too fast.

I was not ready to forget Harry Potter, Jurassic Park, Indiana Jones, Soarin', Spider Man, the Tower of Terror, I was not ready to leave them behind yet. The day woke me up on a sad note. But I soon remember it was not over yet.

I still had a whole new park ahead of me. And Magic Kingdom was open till midnight. Oh, yes, we'd end our vacation with the golden key! (as we say in Brazil)

This next park had Jaws, MIB, the Simpsons, Terminator 2, the Mummy and ET. They were all super cool rides, except for ET. I was unimpressed with it. But maybe it's just that I am not a fan of mild rides. I am a Coca-cola kind of girl. (Coca-Cola's logo in Brazil is "strong emotions" , so to be a Coca-Cola kind of person means you like strong emotions)

Wehn we did the rides we wanted, we headed to the one ride I had been waiting for in that park - the brand new - the Hollywood RipRide Rockit. I was afraid I would not get to go in it, since I had dreamed of that ride months before our trip. ONce we go there however everytime we tried it, it was out of order. Eventually we got there and it was finally back on. We waited about an hour in line. In a terribly hot, humid CO2 filled line. For much of the wait I saw little stars and felt I was really going to faint. I was trying to be strong for my husband, because I new the last thing he needed to deal with in that hell hole was an unconscious wife, since his situation was not any better than mine. I was really consciously trying not to pass out. Everything was worth to ge to go in that super ride.

And may I say what a disappointment!

The ride was rad, that's true. But extremely bumpy, it gave us both headaches. Rides should not give you headaches, rides should not make your head bump against the cart a bugillion times! Rides should spin you and throw you up and down, but keep your head at a comfy position.

After that ride, that was it. Time to go to Magic Kingdom and enjoy the rides till the firworks , and then a few other rides till midnight.

We headed straight to Swiss FAmily Treehouse.

Then we re-did some mild rides that Dean likes. Like "There's a great and beautiful tomorrow shining at the end of everyday..." Carroussel of Progress.

Before it got dark we also took the steam boat trip. Then we got a fast pass to see Peter Pan, which was just as water and sugar as ET has been.

We re-did the Small World, and we got to go on the Big Thunder mountain, which we had fast passes for on Monday, but they closed it down and than we got rained out. We also re-did Pirates of the Caribbean maybe twice, and our last ride was the Haunted House. Then was about midnight, time to go home.

The Fireworks happened at 10. At close to 10 it was hard finding a place in front of the castle. I had to be in front of the castle though. I had to. We walked and walked and we finally found a place.

I think I drove my husband crazy, but I had to be in front of the castle! I just had to. Besides, I wanted to see Tinker Bell!!!!!!!

Well was it worth it? Yes, every minute of it!

The thought of end of vacation did not cross my mind any time in that day except for on the way back to the car and to the motel.

I wanted to go to bed at a reasonable time. But there is no going to bed at a reasonable time if your husband is named Dean. He does not get the whole "I need some sleep" speech.

Things like that don't come without consequences.

The rest of the Disney ... er... Orlando Trip - Thursday

I was very much pissed at the fact that we were not allowed in the park. More for Dean than for me. I did not know what I was missing. He did. HE did not want to leave without going on certain rides that we had not gone thinking we were goign to able to get back to when it was not raining.

Now our Disney days were over.

Now it was Universal Parks time.

But I told him we would not worry about that. Universal had two parks and the one we were going on Friday did not have as many rides we wanted to go. So we'd plan on leaving early on Friday and ending our trip with the Magic Kingdom's fireworks.

Well, on this day we were going to see Harry Potter's world! It was crazy, but we were not the only ones eager to see it! It took us forever to get in there, which made me really upset, because there was so much more to see! But it was worth it. Had we not gotten in right in the beginning of the day, we might not have gotten in at all!

The trip through the School of Wizardry is a must do! I wanted to go again, but they are not like Disney, they don't give free fast passes, and by the time we got there to go for the second ride the wait time as 200 minutes!

I'd have waited, but I had a husband and we was not as willing as I was. It would not have been fair.

We did try butterbeer. I did get cream all over my upper lips like Hermione did.

Then we went on to Jurassic Park ride, Spiderman ride, Poseidon Ride, The Hulk ride and ad Dr. Doom ride that I was not impressed with. too short. Spiderman was a seriously good ride! All cartoony, but ubber cool.

We thought we'd get home early that day and rest. But we did not. We went out for dinner and stayed out for a while.

The rest of the Disney ... er... Orlando Trip - Wednesday

That was technically our last day in Disney.

The plan was to go to the Epcot, do the thigns we hadn't done on 4th of July (since we arrived at the end of the afternoon), then go to Magic Kingdom and see the fireworks.

So we enjoyed Epcot! We ate at the Morrocan place, and from there I called my mom. It was fun talking to my mom from Morroco, where one of our novelas had taken place.

We also went on a ride called Soarin' , one of my favorites, because you fly through many different places in California on a little roller coaster cabin. Super awesome! The only bad thing about Soarin' is thatI did not tell Dean I wanted to go on it again until it was too late to get a fast pass and we had to leave to go watch the fireworks at Magic Kingdom.

We also went on a ride called - living with the land. where we learned about the history of agriculture and incredible things that Disney Parks is doing on the agricultural research field. They have Brazilian trees in their green house!!!! Like Cocoa and Jack fruit! I should have taken pictures!

At a reasonable time, around 8:30 pm we left for the Magic Kingdom fireworks. Well, surprise - the last entry allowed in our tickets could not be used on the same day! It had to be one park per 24 hour period.

Really upset, we headed back to the motel and ate at Checker's.

By this time I was craving a foot massage. But every time we got to the motel we were too tired. Too tired for every thing, if you know what I am saying, foot massages included. So that's how come we spent the whole time there with no foot massages, even thought my feet were "souwery" all the time, and with very little of other types of entertainment.

The rest of the Disney ... er... Orlando Trip - Tuesday

Tuesday was Hollywood Studios day!

We saw an awesome car stunt show, Indiana Jones stunt show and other movie related stuff. I was really glad with the real rides. The Rock'n'Roller Coaster featuring Aerosmith and the Tower of Terror, which we rode twice! And it was not enough!

I like rides, and I like scary stuff and the Tower of Terror was both things together.

We also went on other movie rides, such as Star Wars. It was easy to get to rides on this day. Partly because there was not much we wanted to see there, and partly because , according to Dean, there were not a lot of people there.

It makes sense, not a great time to be in Orlando, since it's so hot and humid. Only those crazy Brazilians travel to Disney at this time of year - and man, there were Brazilians there. There were more Brazilians in Orlando than any other nationality including American. It was the BRAZILIAN INVASION!

But since we got everything done soon, Dean wanted to get to Downtown Disney to get those souvenirs.

But I wanted to watch the fireworks show - Fantasmic!!!!

Well, we decided to hurry to Downtown Disney, get those gifts and hurry back to the Park just in time for the show.

We did.

The store Dean was talking about was huge!!!! ANd they did have everything, literally everything that we had seen in all the other stores around the parks. By then we had been to all the three parks we has set out to go, and we has seen our share of souvenir stores. Everything we had seen was there. So we bought all of our gifts for the whole trip.

Ok. Let's hurry back to Hollywood Studios! We must see the fireworks. We saw the Fireworks at Epcot on 4th of July, we were going to see the Fantasmic show at Hollywood Studios, and we were going to see them the following day at Magic Kingdom. We would see the fireworks in the 3 parks!!!!

Yes, because since we had 5 tickets, we still had one more entry that we were not planning on using , but that came in handy due to the fact that we were rained out of the park on Monday.

We got there in time to watch the show and to go one more time on the TOWER OF TERROR! huahuahuahua!

No time to eat the huge smoked turkey I was eying since that morning, but I could do it later.

The rest of the Disney... er... Orlando trip - Monday

Monday's destination was the Magic Kingdom.

I had organized our trip in a way that we would only go to the parks when they did not have extra magic hours, this way the parks should be semi-empty when we got there in the morning.

It was still cloudy, and 30% chance of rain. Yeah, sure.

I was excited about Magic Kingdom because it's the image of Disney on movies and TV shows. The castle. The fireworks. Oh!!! The Fireworks at Cinderella's Castle! That's just MAgic. And as much as I had never cared about it before, I cared much about it now. I had to see that.

ONe beautiful thing about Disney is the fast pass. They don't charge you for it!

Oh, let me say something about Disney Parks - they know how to treat you well there. They know it. They know how to keep their parks nice, clean and organized too! It's a wonderful experience to be at a Disney Park. So the fast pass is a courtesy they give us, allowing us to not have to stand in too many lines.

We got to several rides. But halfway through the afternoon, before we were able to go to The Swiss Family Tree house, rain just down poured.

We thought we could wait it off. We were walked in the rain. We were singing in the rain. But Dean eventually said, it was not worth it and we decided to leave.

I was not happy. I wanted to stay. But he and the non-stopping rain convinced me to leave.

His argument - we can go to Downtown Disney and buy souvenirs. We made it to Downtown Disney, but not to the souvenir store. The rain was only getting worse, and eventually I just told me to stop saying it was a passing cloud, because every time he said that the rain got heavier.

We stopped at Downtown Disney on the opposite side of the stores. We started walking as brave people who are not afraid of the rain. Eventually he said enough was enough. He could no longer see through his very wet glasses.

BAck to the hotel we changed into dry clothes just to get soaked again - we had to go to the neighbor Waffle House, maybe 15 feet away if that much. But we did get soaked on the way there. That's how bad it was.