Scary Movies Aren't Real

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thankyousirhaveagoodnight"

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

"Holy s***!"

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

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

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

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

Scary movies, though, are still my favorite thing.

Spiced Chicken Sandwich

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

Fear of the Dark

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

super hero

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She is?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christmas is boring

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crying

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, there's the moon!!!

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

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

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

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

Sometimes I just want to go home.

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

LOOK IN THE EYE OF THE GIRL

by Marisa Prado

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

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

Girl tried
To cover her forehead with her hand

when it came the time to lie.

Mother thought it was funny. Very funny.

And kept on reading away

Girl had to understand

how this mistery worked.

On the bathroom mirror,

she lied a lot, in silence.

And in the forehead, nothing written!

Then, Girl found out

that Mother also lied.

And that it was not the forehead

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

that gave in the lie.

Girl then tried

to close her eyes real tight,

to hide Lie.

But not even that worked,

for Mother always knew.

Girl really had to learn

to pretend with her eyes open

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

That was the way.

But at night

Girl felt tight inside.

A little like out of breath,

not even able to blink.

With her eyes wide open,

She could not bring herself to sleep.

Air did not come to Girl.

Just like when we get

almost unable to breath

from a laugh from a tickle.

But it was not funny.

Girl - unintentionally -

had discovered Conscience,

something that watches over us

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

Girl had learned

how much pretending hurt.

And that this way

it would really not be funny

to be a grown-up.

Girl gave up on growing up.

But it was no use.

Girl saw that now

she was almost as tall

as the furniture at grandma’s living room.

And she got very sad.

The tight feeling was getting tighter.

And so tight that tight feeling got,

that Girl figured that pretending

could only hurt so much

because she hurt alone.

Girl had an idea,

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

But she knew – oh, yes -

that she had to try it,

in order to find it out.

Girl’s idea
Was to tell Mother

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

Girl told Mother
That it was really complicated

and that it wasn’t good at all

having to grow up alone.

Mother hugged
Girl really tight.

And, in the arms so longed for,

Girl became Mother’s mom.

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

Mother did not say anything

but both one and the other knew

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

At that moment

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

And that when pain is shared,

it hurts a little less.
And that, then,

you even feel

like keeping on growing up

to find out all the rest of the stuff.

Me? A spy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who the heck are these people?"

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

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

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

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

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

oh!!!! uh-oh!

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

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

Things calmed down after a while.

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

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

And my friend Marcus went like,

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

"What are you saying!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Marcus got up and solved the problem.

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

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

"Marcus, just drop the attitude!"

Grandma's song

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

She's given up talking

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

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

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

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

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

MAGIC IS GONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Superman

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

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

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

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

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

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

the terminal

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

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

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

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

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

stupid movie

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

Friend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home Alone 2

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

Yesterday I went to NYC on business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You have to catch the subway."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15

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

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

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

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

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

Brazilian Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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