Tired of Facebook Manipulation

A couple of weeks ago I took a decision concerning Facebook. I have decided that I won't re-post any posts that use strategies of emotional blackmail in order to be reposted. I do love looking at pictures and messages that my friends post on Facebook. And I like to share them as a see fit.

However, requests of highly manipulative content, such as, “if you have a heart,” “if you love God,” “if this post had been about sex you'd have shared it, but...”, will be automatically eliminated from my decision-making process of “to share or not share – that is the question”.

Yes, I have a heart, and yes, I love God, and, boy oh boy, do I like sex! But I don't want to be coerced or guilted into sharing anything. I share pictures or messages when I believe them to be of some value and when I think it is worth the space on my page. I don't share all of them. Not everything I enjoy on Facebook has to go on my page, because I also have concerns about visual pollution and limiting my amount of contribution. So even wonderful messages might not be shared because I decided it was time to stop the postings for that day.

My major concern is not whether or not my criteria is fair. My point is – it is I who gets to decide what I share, based on my own criteria and not on cheap manipulation techniques that imply that I might not have a heart, love God, or that I might have some weird addiction sexual content.

I am standing up to say "NO" to Facebook emotional blackmail. So if you are one of those who posts messages that contain such techniques, I just want to let you know that I won't share them and let you know why. Will I make a huge difference in the world of Facebook? Who knows, and who freaking cares? I'm only one among many. Will my attitude be enough to stop Facebook manipulation? Who knows and who freaking cares? But I am doing what I think is right. If were you, I'd do the same. But I am not you, and your standard might be completely different than mine. Maybe you really don't give a dime about it and I will not say you're evil for doing that, but I will say I think that is a bad idea.

Share this link on you Facebook, if you agree with me. Or don't! The choice is yours!

Kitty dreams

Someday I will do something to that cat. Someday, when Dean's feelings are less important than my mental health (and, believe me, that day will come), I will do something to that cat. 

Oops! Off the window she goes! ... ... Gee... Did I just do that? 

"Sorry, baby! I accidentally opened the screen and my hands accidentally pushed the cat towards it."

Someday, when I'm on the verge of losing any trace of sanity, at the height of my PMS, with two children playing tag around my legs and tattling, something really bad will happen to Kitty.

"Mommy, why are you pouring gasoline on the cat?" a tiny voice will inquire.

 

"That's what happens to little spoiled brats who don't listen to Mommy! Who's next?"

Obedient and traumatized children will follow for the rest of my life! It will all be worth it!

Blood cleansing

In Brazil we say, or at least we used to say, that we wanted the children to marry well in order to cleanse the blood.

Cleanse the blood!!! Believe it or not! Cleansing the blood meant marrying someone with lighter skin instead of someone with darker skin. The point was to rinse the non-whiteness out of the bloodline - to whiten the family! Good Golly! As if that were a good thing!!!! Cleansing the blood!!!

Yeah... cleansing the blood. Thanks to this cleansing I lost the good Indian traits of my grandma's side of the family. I was a little lucky to have been born with the baby face gene. But the never-aging skin? Oh, no, this one I didn't get. I got the regular aging white people's skin. It will be nice and wrinkly when I get old. And , oh, my poor unborn children!!! Guess what I did to them!!! I married a guy whiter than me! I'm cleansing the blood alright! My husband is so white himself that he doesn't even consider me white! Are you for real? My poor children will have a cleaner blood than me! Do you know what that means? Read on...

Thanks to this blood-cleansing fashion I lost the ability to keep my hair dark. My great-grandma had them nice and dark all the way to age 86 when she died. Yup! Great-grandma Joaninha, age 86, had a handful of white hair - you could count on your fingers! As for myself, I've had to hide undesirables since age 17, making me burn my brain cells with hair dye!

Oh, yeah, let's cleanse the blood, gang! Thanks to this cleansing the blood thing, the good things from the non-white ethnicity were going, going, gone… the only thing that the dark part of my heritage left me was this black people stinkiness! You know, it's that stink that everyone who's ever had to catch a crowded bus, at noon, in Salvador-Bahia knows very well. Yup, that smelly stink! I know it's black people's stink, because most of us in Salvador are anywhere from 100 to 50% black. And if there is one thing that gets passed on with the genes, if there is one thing that the cleansing of the blood can't get rid of is the stink. So I could literally define this cleansing of the blood in two syllables – it stinks!

So much for cleansing the blood.

Like a little child

About 5 years ago I was an au pair for a family of baptist faith. Mom, Dad, and three adoptive children of 3, 4, and 5 years old.
The girl in the middle, a sweet little thing, was in that time of life where everything is a major discovery.
That's when holy week came along. At church, during that week, they were learning about Jesus' final days - his going to jerusalem in triumph, the last supper, and, on Friday night, the service ended with Jesus' death on the cross to pay for our sins.
Since it was the weekend, I had taken off to stay at a friend's house in the town I used to go to church.
When I got back to their house, on Sunday after the worship service, the little girl was going up the walls with excitement. She had to tell me these wonderful news!
"Virginia! On Friday Jesus died. And I was so sad because I thought Jesus was dead, but he rose again!!! He is alive!!!"
Do we understand this truth as a child?
Happy Easter Sunday, everyone!

Laughter is the best medicine

There are a lot of things in life that we can not choose. But there are plenty of things we can. One of the things we can choose is our mood. I personally believe that life is both too short and too long to be spent in a bad mood. It was my grandma that taught me that. And, hey, I am not getting any younger, so I will take the good mood over the bad.

I don't understand why some people choose to go through life miserably. Some people choose to go through life like this – complaining about everything. Seeing the worst in everything, and mulling over it as if they could actually make things better by worrying and complaining! Oh, life is not fair! Oh, people are so prejudicial! Oh, the social injustices! Oh, the rain! Oh, the snow! Oh, the heat! Oh! Oh! Oh!

When I was a teenager, Grandma used to tell me that I worried too much. Think typical teenagers. Those kids who are pseudo-revolutionaries and worry about all the problems in the world every single minute of their lives as if the amount of worry they do could actually do something for the world? Yup, that was me. Grandma used to say she was too old for these kind of worries.

Grandma is a model for me. She is a fantastic person. When I am old (which will never happen! Me old! Ha! I will always be 12!!!)

Grandma laughs a lot. She has always laughed a lot. She has gone through a lot of hell in life, but she keeps her good mood and she laughs at everything. She is not worried about solving all the problems in the world, and she doesn't pretend she can change the things she can't. The only thing she can change, she does – her attitude, her mood.

She is a great woman and she is very caring towards those who are part of her life. She will turn into The Incredible Hulk if anyone tries to harm any of us. But she is not constantly preoccupied with everything else. Because – it seems that she knows that – she can make her life better or worse simply by not pretending everything depends on her. Have a good time, even when things are not turning out the way you think they should. That's what she seems to say with the way she acts.

Chico Anysio (one of the greatest comedians in Brazil who passed away last week) once said that the Brazilian people are the only ones who can make humor out of their own misery. I am not sure whether or not we are the only ones. What I am sure of is that making humor out of things that are not so fun is a great way to deal with those things and a great way to be happier in life. Because it is here that we find ourselves changing the only one thing we can control in life – our attitude, our mood.

Why am I going on and on about how to be happy and how to choose your own attitude? Because I was impressed at how people can actually be unhappy all the time about anything and everything!

I was watching this hysterically funny video on an old friend's Facebook. The video showed a woman who couldn't parallel park her Smart car to save her life. The people recording the video were having a blast, commenting on the fact that the Spanish woman couldn't parallel park.

As it is usual on Facebook, an unhappy soul decided to poke in during the comments and spill his share of dissatisfaction and hatred. He had to let us all know how the video recorders were damned and stupid for making fun of the fact the person was a woman and a Spaniard.

I tried to lighten his mood. Me, always thinking that people actually want to be helped. Silly me! But, hey, one day I will learn. Here I went, “Hey, bro, chill. Don't we all make jokes about Portuguese and Hicks? Same difference! I am not mad at them and I am a woman.”

Why do some people choose to go through life living miserably and unhappily? This guy replied, in a very aggressive tone, that we only tell jokes about societal prejudices. No one jokes about whites or males. Jokes are against women, blacks, gays, children, etc. We should rebel against such awful injustices of society!

Can you imagine yourself in a circle of friends telling jokes and some freak starts blurting about how jokes are a form of prejudice? That's kind of the same thing that happened on Facebook.

Well, I've learned that trying to win an argument with a complete stranger that pokes on your friend's posting on Facebook by using reason is about as effective as shooting your own foot! It leads no one nowhere worthy! I figured I could choose my attitude – I could either be mad and start a Facebook discussion with a complete stranger, or just chill. I chose to chill. I replied, “Ok, bro. It's your choice. Stay in peace. I am just too old for that kind of attitude. I prefer to just laugh.”

I might have learned something from Grandma, and if that was not what she wanted me to learn, then I guess she did something wrong, because this is what I have learned – It is better to laugh that to cry in life, and I am the only one who can choose one or the other. Laughter is the best medicine!

That's all for now, gang! Come back next week! And chill!

Let's eat chocolate and popcorn!

So all these crazy studies are coming out about how popcorn is actually healthy, or how chocolate is actually healthy, or how all sorts of food that were once the villains are now considered heroes.

Ok, so now everyone is now going to go around eating chocolate, popcorn and call it health food.

People!!!! Wake up!!! "Everything in moderation!!!" remember?! OMG! What is wrong with people?!

I remember as a teenager everyone used to say that chocolate was bad for your skin - it causes acne! Well, first of all, acne is a genetic condition and if you have it in your genes you'll get the darn pimples - so let me eat my freaking chocolate alone, ok!

Chocolate is not bad, neither is popcorn! And, hey those of you who love quoting Supersize Me, McDonalds won't be bad for you either... If eaten in (guess what!) moderation!!! Amazing, isn't it!

But if those foods are all you eat, everyday, day and night, non-stop, then, don't kid yourself, my friend - you will get sick one way or another, sooner or later.

Don't worry! Eat the stuff you like. Just not all the time and not only that.

Also, don't freaking sit in front of a screen all day long! Goodness gracious, you guys! No food makes miracles! Get outside! Move your muscles! Life is too short to spend it stationary anyway!

CocaCola - that's it!

I love nightmares

Some people hate having bad dreams. I love it! My bad or scary dreams all feel like a horror or thriller movie. And when I get really scared in them, all I have to do is remember it is a dream and then I tell myself to wake up. Then I wake up.

Last night, for instance, part of my dream was with The Walking Dead. That Rick guy had to shoot Lori, pq she had turned into a zombie. We had to keep redoing that scene, because I didn't like the way they were doing the scene. Hey!!! Man, I think I was the director of that episode!!!!

But then I wasn't in the TV show anymore. My baby and I were inside a house with a murderer child. I kept calling 911, but no one answered. The heck!!! Who has ever seen 911 not answer phone calls! But, no, they didn't. I sent Dean out for help. What the heck was I thinking!!! Now I was home alone with a mini psycho ... wait! Dang! ... I can't remember anymore of it! Shoot! The darn thing about dreams is that you have to wake up and say them out loud right away. I f you don't, the stupid dream goes away from your mind. There - gone. 

Now I had this dream last week that I woke up and told it to my baby right away. So I can still remember it - It was more or less like this: There was this guy who was about 60 years old locked inside this abandoned building. H'm... could it be Chuck Norris? Someone lit a bomb right next to him. So he jumped over a huge wall to the next room right before the bomb went off. Just when I was about to breath, relieved, someone else lit another bomb, so he ran to the next room before the bomb went off. Now I was already thinking it was all over when someone screamed that the whole building was about to explode. The guy started running out of the building right before the explosion.

Whew! I was so nervous already! But just when I thought it was all done, someone came along saying he had to do it all over again.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" I yelled! "You crazy, bro?! You'll end up dying, old man!"
"But I have life insurance!" He said.
"Wake up, old man! Life insurance won't bring you back your life! When you're dead, what will you care about insurance?"
That's when two children show up. They don't look anything like each other. The girl is black and the boy is blond. "I am doing that for my children," he says.
Get real!  What a retard!

Whose last happy childhood ???

Ok, nothing can be scarier to a girl who doesn't want to grow up than receiving a nostalgic email entitled “the last happy childhood,” referring to her own childhood. Why? Because I am too young to be nostalgic, that's why. When my friends start sending me emails with this title, I start thinking they are telling me that our childhood is over. Really? Darn it! You know what? I have a problem with that, because I didn't check that off my calendar!

Regardless of how I organize my calendar, however, I still have a problem with that kind of email. Come on, think with me – do I think my childhood was the best ever? Yes. Do I feel sorry that children today don't have the same experiences I had? Heck, yeah! But talk to my mom! She will say she thinks her childhood was the best ever. She will say she feels sorry for my brothers and I.

In my opinion, it's amazing how many kids today don't know Indiana Jones, Jason Vorhees, Freddy Krueger! Some kids don't even don't Micheal Jackson was black! Some kids have know idea what videotapes or LPs are! Some kids don't even know what a CD or a DVD is!!! All they know are mp3s and movie downloads! They don't go to video stores or game stores – they download stuff on I-pods, I-pads, X-boxes, Play Stations!!! I mean, man! I loved going to a video store and sneaking to the horror movie section! Oh, there is one more thing kids today don't know! Kids today have no idea there was a time in which it was ok not to be politically correct. Can you imagine that kind of life?

Now ask my mom what she thinks! She wishes we could have played outside without worrying about crazy kidnappers, drivers, pollution. She wishes we could have walked everywhere and played in the streets. She wishes we could have known a time when TV had only one channel. And she wishes we didn't just know everything about everything. She thinks her childhood was the last happy childhood.

Wait a minute! But if hers was the last happy one, than what about mine? I did love my childhood! I mean, yes, I grew up locked in the eighteenth floor of a condo, in a big city. Walking anywhere was just too dangerous and the only safe thing to do was to watch TV all afternoon. Even riding my bike had to be under adult supervision, inside the gates of our condo. So, yes, my childhood, compared to my mom's, was quite a prison. But I had a very happy childhood in my own way. Regardless of what I didn't have, I had my make believe worlds, I had my invisible friends, I had super-powers, I had what every child in every time needs to have a happy childhood – imagination.

Teachers tend to say that children today don't have any more imagination because of computers. Really? Teachers used to say the same thing when I was growing up, just that they talked about TV. But I had plenty of imagination. I think TV actually helped me find even more make-believe worlds.

And I bet when my little brother grows up, he will look at his own computerized childhood and think it was the best ever – texting, virtual reality, downloads, Hannah Montana, High School Musical, blah, blah, blah. He will probably look at the kids of the future and think – poor children, they don't have what I had. He will probably think his was the last happy childhood. Wanna bet?

Your childhood was the last happy childhood – because it was the only one you had.

Pure and simple Narcissism

Folks, I was thinking the other day, "But I'm about to see a more narcissistic bunch than those people from Bahia." 


"But why," you ask, "Why do you think Baianos are too narcissistic for their own good?" 

Oxente*! Very simple, dear friend, have you seen anywhere else in the world a place in which virtually all native singers/musicians praise their city or state? Virtually everyone who makes music in Bahia has at least one song that exalts Salvador or Bahia! 


My king*, I do not find this kind of behavior anywhere else in this world. It may exist somewhere, but I do not know of it. True, there are some kiddos over in California that sing a couple of songs about California. There was Frank Sinatra who sang New York New York. And John Denver sings Country Roads about West Virginia. But nothing is as intense as Bahia. In Bahia it is a widespread thing. It is something endemic. Bahia has musicians up and down the road singing praises to Salvador. 


I say this full of narcissism and pretty shamelessly. I'm narcissistic all right, thank God who made me be born Baiana! Yes, Baiana with capital B indeed! And not because I forget adjectives in Portuguese are not capitalized. But because I speak of it as in the sentence, "I'm going to Bahia" said by a person from the countryside who heads towards the state capital - Salvador. 


I am Baiana! I am Soteropolitana! All capitalized! 


Soteropolitana, by the way, is actually a phenomenal word! Our adjective is so chic that has Greek and Latin etymology! Sotero - "savior" in Latin. And Polis - "city" in Greek. So Soteropolitana means "native of the City of the Holy Savior" (which is the official name of our city - Cidade do São Salvador) in both Greek and Latin. Nothing is more appropriate for a country of Latin origin language with many words of Greek etymology.


Do I live in the U.S.? Yup. Life brought me here. But life has paths that take us far away. It doesn't matter where the paths take us. What matters is where you came from. What matters is what your heart says. And my heart says: All I am today was created in Bahia! In the City of the Holy Savior! And, boy, do I like what I am! Wouldn't trade one of I for ten of another. Mom would agree to that!! 


PS. This post should be read with a Baiano accent. Oxente! 


*These are Baiana words I just couldn't bring myself to replace with standard English.
Oxente - some sort of interjection only Baianos know when to use.
My king- Man, Bro.

What has life done to our lives?

I'm not sure when it was that we grew up, but the girls told me we did.

I guess we did. After all, I am married, right?

But if we grew up, then what happened to the dreams we dreamed for our lives?

We should all be married and having children the way we planned, but I'm the only one married in the group, and I really don't know if I want children anymore. Who cares about children! I'm happy with my husband! But I wish the girls were too - happy with husbands. Why are things not working the way we planned? We were all going to get married on the same day, remember? One in the morning, another in the afternoon, and the other in the evening.

And as for me, I don't know where my brains were when I got into teaching little kids how to read. This was the last thing I wanted in my life. I wanted to be a housewife (and a writer in my spare time). How did I get here - teaching school kids to read and write?

When did we mess up our perfectly dreamed up lives and got stuck with the lives of the grownups we tried so hard to be different from?  It's just that when we are teenagers everything looks so perfect ahead of us. And then life gets in the way. "Well," says the poet, "we did want, after all, to be happy, but there aren't ways to return anymore ... and what has life done to our lives?"

There aren't ways to return?! Hold on a second! Says who I have to stay here? I got married like I always dreamed of, didn't I? Why should I give up on my other dreams? It's true I can't be a housewife anymore. My husband's income is not enough to support the lifestyle we chose. But I won't end my days as a school teacher just to support my lifestyle. I don't want to hate my job just so I can enjoy my vacations. I'll get into translation, accounting, administration, or even teaching, but teaching grownups. I will do anything that I actually enjoy and make that my career.

I'm glad I remembered I wanted to be a writer as well. I am not sure when I forgot about it.  I guess I forgot about it because I eventually had to pay my bills and, even as a teenager, I knew writers don't usually pay their bills with the money they get from their books.

But why did I forget I wanted to see my work published nonetheless? Not for fame or money, but for my own joy. I am working on a new book right now. The Little Girl From yesterday,which is about the Beatles, is ok, and I know it was a favorite in my school when I wrote it, but I was a middle school kid then. My writing has gotten much better since, and I can come up with better plots. Why did I really publish "the Little Girl..."? For one, I hope I can get a copy to Paul McCartney someday _ a dream I've had since I wrote the book in Portuguese. After all I only wrote it because of him. But also because "the little girl from yesterday" is the first story I ever wrote and I just wanted to see my book published just like the ones the teachers had us read. It was another dream I had forgotten about.

I don't want to forget about my dreams anymore. I don't want to wake up old some day and realize I left most of my dreams behind. And " there aren't ways to return anymore".

Labels

"I'd rather be this moving metamorphosis than to have that good old opinion about everything," said the singer.
This is the year I register to vote. And I will register as an independent.
Why? Because I don't want to be labeled. I don't believe in labels.
Do I identify more with the conservative side? Yes, in some points. But do I really want the label Republican attached to people's idea of who I am? No!
I am not a Republican. I am not a Democrat. I will never be either.

I question everything people seem to already know as right or wrong. "Question everything" is one of the mottoes posted on my classroom walls. That's because this is one thing I hope my students learn from me.
I believe it is healthy, so I try to question everything. If you don't see me questioning something right now it is either because I have already done it and arrived at a conclusion, or because I haven't thought of it yet. And I don't want people judging me on matters I have no idea what my say is yet. Don't tell me how I should think - let me get there on my own. Don't fight me - question me.

Another reason why I will register as an independent is because I feel that if I registered with one party or another I'd be sending the message that I believe that one side or another has it all figured out. I am not naive enough to believe that the Rs have the answer for the problems of this country, even though I identify with many of their views. You're kidding yourself if you think that any side has the answers. You're being extremely full of yourself to accuse the other side of hating the country and trying to destroy it. Maybe this is true of some people. Some people have made it clear that they do believe that. But it is not safe to assume that is what everyone who is not on your side wants. No one has the absolute answer, so accusing each other will only dig us deep into a hole. And no one man or party can save this country. Reasoning together and in honesty, without labeling, might get us up and running again.

When I vote, I will vote according to what I feel it is the less of two evils for that moment in time.

For instance, right now, I know I don't like Obama's economy policies. Obama's ego suffers from something called elephantiasis. He is extremely full of himself. But he is either an ignorant or an evil bad liar. He is a mess and he is turning the country into a bigger mess than his successor did. I will give an example. High gas prices. Obama has said himself he wants energy costs to skyrocket. He has said that because he wants to force America into an age of green fuels that we are not ready for and that is not cost effective yet. No, I don't want this in my future. I would love if green fuels were to be in humanity's future, but not at the wrong  moment. At a moment when it will cost me my ability to save for retirement or to go on vacation (something I work hard all year for), because every penny I make will go to pay for fuel. So I will definitely vote republican, because it's the option against Obama. I don't believe the republican guy will save the country, but if he does less damage to the economy than the current guy has done so far, that's good enough for me.

I fight my battles one at a time, on a case by case basis. So please don't judge me and don't assume I am on your side. I am on my conscience's side. Wouldn't it be nice if more people did that? It's not too late. Throw away the labels, question everything! Reason it out and make sense of it. Don't be satisfied with secondary accounts of history or news, go to the sources, use your brain. If you were lucky you had a teacher that taught you how to use it. Ask questions and keep your mind open to change, if reason leads to change.

Please don't trust your life to me

I was telling my husband he should have investigated me a little bit better before we got married.
I'm not a very trustworthy person. Seriously. Every time someone else and I were in trouble, I always made sure I'd get mine out of the line, I don't care whom I am leaving behind.
Example number 1:
Leandro and I at camp. We and our group of friends (we were all a bunch of 6, 7, or 8 year-olds) loved to hang out at this place we called thee-rosion. It was actually the way we heard grownups calling the erosion behind the dining hall, but we didn't know any better. We just liked to go jumping all the holes in it as if we were conquering the grand canyon. One day we found this ladder that was left there by some grownup. So Leandro and I and another girl decided we'd go down the ladder to the bottom of thee-rosion. The ladder, however, was old and decrepit, with a few steps missing and others half broken, so as soon as we got down there, the girl freaked out. "Oh, my gosh, we shouldn't be here! We're going to die!" She hurried back up. My brother and I got scared at her freaking out so we also decided to climb up, but before Lelas could touch the ladder I made sure I went up as fast as possible, breaking a couple of steps on my way up, enough to assure that was virtually impossible for any child to climb on whichever steps were left. Well, that means Lelas was now stuck at the bottom of the deadly thee-rosion. Yes, I felt extremely guilty and made sure I got my brother out of there safe and sound while the other girl was long gone, but if we were really in danger, I'd have been saved and my brother wouldn't.

Example number 2:
We were both in this river swimming. However we were both very near this spot where river and ocean meet and there is a certain spot right there where, if you get caught, you just drawn, no matter how well you swim.
Well, we didn't know that. we were swimming and we got caught in this stream. Lelas was right behind me. Just enough to not be able to step down.
I could still find land, so I am striving to get back to shore, while Lelas is grabbing me from behind. "Let go!" I'd say while I pushed his hand away.
Yeah, I could have killed my brother....

So, please, next time we are in a life and death situation together - run away from me!!!!!

Everything changes!

Everything changes, I know. All the time. The poet said, "nothing that we we see is the same as we saw a second ago."
I know that.
But too many changes in a very short time is a little bit earthshaking.
My step-cousin, no more than 5 years older than me, died of cancer last month. I only found it out this week.
My best friend, 3 months younger than me,  broke off her 5-year engagement this week - a month before her wedding.
Wow! What else has to happen? Boy! Am I glad the week is over!!!! Beware of the Ides of March, eh!

My step-cousin - I saw him a few times in my life, when we were both little kids. Just after Christmas I found out he had cancer and was at the hospital. It was hard to picture that little guy, now a man, lying on a hospital bed, dying.
He passed away exactly three months after his diagnosis. It was too late for doctors to do anything for him.
Have I said how much I HATE CANCER before? No?
I HATE CANCER!!!!
Too many people die of it, and you can do NOTHING to prevent it! What a disgusting disease!
And, as much as I think about death as something normal, something that could happen at any time to any one of us, including myself, it is really creepy to think that someone that close to me in age just died. I guess we just never really get used to the idea of death. I guess we just never get used to the idea that this thing called cancer can just come and take away our people!

And to top it off - I am only told about it a month later. Trying to digest the whole thing, kind of screwed my romantic mood for the week.

Then, my best friend tells me over MSN that her wedding is off ... for good!
What??? Girl, you don't drop off that bomb over an msn message and expect me not to call you and ask for the deats. I mean, what on earth? Didn't you message me a few days before to tell me about this cool thing that you were going to do in your wedding? I mean, how on earth? Spit it out - you're not brushing that off with a simple, "I'd rather not talk about it."
Apparently Mr.Right was anguishing over whether or not he was supposed to be Mr.Right, whether he'd be able to continue being Mr. Right after the wedding, and hey, there is only so much questioning and fear a girl can take from a guy. I totally understand her side. Enough is enough. At the end of the day, you want to know your guy is there for you - 100% of him, not his blinker version (I'm on, I'm off, I'm on, I'm off). I feel really sorry that this had to happen to my best friend.
Well, I am through with this week. I'm glad it's over. Let's move on. Or, as we say in Brazil, "Kick the ball to the goal cuz it's playoff game!"

Sit down and plan!

Luke 14:28 - For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not sit down first and count the cost to see if he has enough to finish it. 

My area of expertise is not theology. So most of my postings are not theology. THIS POST IS NOT ABOUT THEOLOGY. I just wanted to show through a biblical verse that was part of my pastor's sermon this morning how something is such a simple and obvious proof of common sense, that Jesus Christ himself used it as a comparison in one of his teachings. 

I'm not sure whether I read this verse too many times as a little or whether it was just the influence of my family, but I always had the idea contained in this verse as a guide for my financial life. For all my projects, past and future, I always sat down and planned. I always wanted to ensure that conditions would be there to do what I wanted, and if there were no conditions at the time, what was the right time and what was the better way.
It is sad that for so many people in today's world, this idea is not even far in their horizon. Some think that sitting down and planning is lack of faith. After all, "God will provide."
Many others believe that it is other people or the government (which ultimately are all other people) who should pay for their poorly/not planned projects. 

Friend, sit down and plan. Do the math! Can you can afford the cost of the endeavor you intends to undertake? No? So, do not do it. Be quiet and go back to the drawing board. It is a matter of common sense.

Old age never killed anyone

So, Davy Jones is gone. Some of you grew up watching him on TV, as new shows, as reruns, as VCR tapes, it all depends in which decade you grew up (60's, 70's, 80's or 90's).

I only got to know who Davy Jones was in the past 4 years, since I have been married. But last year I did see him, Micky and Peter in a Reunion Concert, and I am glad I did. And now I am grieving with all of you who grew up watching him on TV.

And as usual I turn to writing as a way of coping with it.

In these past 24 hours, since I heard the news, I have been thinking about the idea of death. Davy died at age 66. Some people on facebook considered that age too young. Well, when you are 66 you're not necessarily considered young. As a matter of fact, you are considered a senior citizen, but I am sure when I (if I) get to 66 I will still feel as young as 21. Just as a feel right now. And anyway, Paul McCartney is 69 and, had we both been single and he asked me to marry him, I'd say yes without a doubt. I'd not wait a split second. Just in case he might change his mind. And Paul said he will never believe he is already knocking at the 70's door.

So, seriously, what does age have to do with it? Old age doesn't kill anyone. What kills people are heart attacks, cancers(How many children are dying of cancer!), swine flus... Things that can happen at any age, really. To die, all one needs is to be alive. If we are alive, chances are we are going to die. Sooner or later. And we beat the odds everyday. We've been beating the odds ever since we were born. The older we get, the longer we have been beating the odds. But, see, that means that the older we get the more chances we take at dying. Eventually death will find all of us. One way or another. But age has nothing to do with it.

That is why I am, I will always be, 21!

Back to school

Each hour of this Sunday that goes by is one hour closer to my going back to work. It feels as the count down to my execution. And to think that I was so happy last Monday! (well, as happy as one can be when you're sick as a dog!) But I was so happy to think I had a whole week of vaca ahead of me. On Monday morning when I woke up and saw my husband sleeping - knowing that he had the day off as well, I thought "Yay! Monday! February break is starting!" Then on Tuesday, when I got up and saw my baby off to work, I thought to myself, "Yay! Tuesday! February break is just starting!"

Then Wednesday came. Oh! Oh! Oh! What happened there? Wednesday came and I woke up and saw my husband off to work again and thought, "Heck! It is freaking Wednesday already? Where the h**l has my freaking vacation gone?" Then it was all downhill from there. I was planning to go into work on Friday just to get my classroom ready for Monday, but on Friday morning I thought, "H**l with it, I am enjoying each last minute of my vaca!"

Well, as we say in Brazil, "No evil is eternal and no good lasts forever." I'm sad to see it go... And I am seeing it go right now. Every minute that goes by is one less minute I have of vaca. Here! Did you see it??!! I can see it going here in the darn clock my computer screen! I can see the stupid idiotic time passing!

See, my favorite Calvin comic strip is the one in which he says, "I can never fully enjoy Sundays, because Mondays come afterward. It's like trying to enjoy your last meal before execution." Calvin is just a poor student, I know. And I am the teacher. The grown-up who's supposed to be responsible. But hey, no one said I had to like school to be a teacher. Or a grown-up. Or responsible for that matter. I never did like school anyway. True, I was good at it. After all, I was a teacher's grand-daughter. But I never liked it really. True, I had my favorite teachers. After all which child doesn't have them? But as for the ones I didn't like... poor teachers! I made their lives at work pretty infernal.

Now, I am the teacher. But I still don't like going to school. For different reasons now. Back then I didn't like doing homework and sitting down through hours of subjects that I considered useless, such as trigonometry and physics. Now all I can think of is that I have to go back to that germ factory, filled with little germ makers, all endowed with two hands and one uncontrollable desire to hug me.

AAAAAH! WHY DO THEY LOVE ME SO MUCH??? I DON'T KNOW!!! MAYBE THEY DON'T! MAYBE THEY HAVE A SECRET EVIL PLAN TO MAKE ME SICK SO I DON'T COME TO SCHOOL! Every time one of those little creature comes to hug me I feel like running away crying, "Unclean! Unclean!"

Other than endowed with arms and a desire to hug me, they don't seem to be endowed with anything else. By anything else, I mean the ability to learn anything meaningful at all. Can children learn? I mean, really, can children learn anything meaningful at all? How often during my day at work do I sit behind my desk and ask myself, "Does it even matter to anyone what I do here? Does it even matter? To anyone?"

Then, of course, the children have parents. Some times they are in jail. But sometimes they aren't. Sometimes they care about learning to speak English. But sometimes they don't. Sometimes they care about their children's school career. ... But sometimes they don't seem to care about absolutely anything in this whole world of our Lord, including their children's school career! And later they wonder why their children's grades are low and why aren't we doing anything! WE!? Ok. Does it even matter?

So, that's what I am going back to tomorrow - germ makers, unable to learn, and their parents who don't speak English, are often in jail, and don't care to help their own children succeed in school.

On top of that, I am supposed to be thankful! Yes, I am! Believe it or not. Well, first of all, thankful because the Book I have as a rule to my life says I must be thankful, period. So, I ask myself, "Why, Lord, do I have to be thankful?" (I do ask myself that, because I always hope the Lord will show me a bright side to my bleak view of reality. Reasons to be thankful for a job I am not necessarily happy about: Thankful that I have a job, unlike 8% (yeah, right! according to the government's twisted math) of the population. Thankful that I am not living paycheck to paycheck, unlike 75% of population. Thankful that I can take on extra hours (extra hours??? with the children??? What am I, crazy???) to make a savings account for a baby that my husband and I will probably try to make in a couple of years.

Well, ...  that is, IF (big IF here) IF I decide it is really worth getting off the pill. Yes, the pill!!! The pill is so nice and cheap! Only $15 dollars every 3 months with my current insurance!!!... Do you know how much more than that a child will cost? Oh, believe me, a lot more! For life! Boy, oh, boy, do I want to get off the pill? Ever? And what for? To later wonder how I got myself into the 591 trap (5 minutes of pleasure, 9 months of waiting, 1 mouth to feed). ... Well, it is true that I usually get more than just 5 minutes of pleasure, but still, do I want to get off that pill?  Anyway, how did I end up on this pill talk? Right now, even though I absolutely abhor going back to work, I still have plenty to be thankful for. So I am trying to suck up my frustrations and show up at work with a smile and whatever is left of that patience people say I have... Have a happy week, everyone!

Will they ever have what I had?

I guess what bugs me the most about the idea of having children is that they will have such a different life than the one I had. Unless for some reason that is not in our horizon now, Dean and I move to Brazil before we decide to have children of our own, my children will grow up in a reality that is completely foreign to the one I grew up in. My country, my culture, all the things I hold dear! All the things that made me who I am today. Our songs, our stories, our legends, our games! Our food, our weather, our beaches! Our passions, our dislikes! Our language sing-song! Our very unique way to understand the world. And my family's traditions! Those little everyday traditions that we don't even realize we have until we meet other families and perceive how different they are! How can I rob the children I want to have someday of all of that? There's so much in Brazil that I disapprove of! But there is so much that I love! And while the things that I disapprove have made me leave, in search of better living conditions; not having the things I love makes every day of my life a little incomplete, a little less happy than what it should be. Part of me is missing. Part of me was left behind in the land that gave me life and a childhood. Those things will always be with me, it doesn't matter how far I travel. I will always be Brazilian. It doesn't matter how far away I am. It doesn't matter how many years I live in America. I will always be Brazilian. If I have children someday, will they be able to say the same? It scares me to think the answer might be no.

There was a time when I did want them

Yes it's true. There was a time when I really wanted children. What happened? I found I could travel and see different places with the fruits of my labor.

 There was a time when I made plans to have 5 or 6. Later 3 or 4. But during this time I also planned on getting married soon after college, and on having children two years later.

 The saying goes that if you want to make God laugh, make plans.

The plan to marry after college did not happen, because I had no boyfriend. Understanding why that happened is not something I should concern myself with. Not anymore. I met the man who would become my husband right after the date I had planned for the children.

 Do you know what happens to plans of life that go unfulfilled? Life must leave them behind. For we, human beings, are versatile and know that keeping on living and making lemonade with our lemons is more important than chasing thwarted sweets and plans.

So I made my lemonade. And in the meantime learned that the hard work and the savings that I believed to be the way to secure the future of my unborn children, could be invested in me. I learned that with my hard work, with the sweat of my brow, I could see new places, places seen on TV, or just dreams. I found out that there was a world out there that I would have never know, nor have I bothered to learn about, had the children come according to my plans.

Gee! Boy! Did I like that lemonade. I liked that lemonade more the sweets I had planned in life.

When the lemonade is too good, the sweets lose their throne. They gains status of "perhaps", "if there's time" ... Sweets is a thing thing for spoiled children. Lemonade is for grownups, decided people who came, saw and conquered.

My lemonade was achieved with hard work. I have no intention of leaving it behind. Not now. Not yet.

Memories of my Great Grandma

Stories and memories live in our memory. When there's no one to remember them, they just die. And it is as if they have never existed. On my last vacation trip, I cried a lot. I cried when visiting cemeteries in search of my husband's ancestors. I cried to see all kinds of tombstones - old, young, children, infants... I cried to think how many lives that were lived and shared are now lost in a hyphen. That hyphen that comes between the birth date and the death date. So much was done during that hyphen. And now who cares about it? So many of those tombstones were swallowed by the tall grass and the moss. No one even knows they are there, neither do they know who was laid there. I cried when I realized that this is the fate of us all: a tombstone. Abandoned. Without anyone to imagine what went on during that infamous hyphen. A life. A life in which we've rejoiced and wept. A life that was so intense while it existed, and now it's forever gone. The Bible makes it clear that we came to this world with nothing and take nothing from it. So what counts? What counts is what we leave behind. Because if not we leave nothing to no one, all that's left of our existence is that hyphen. I want all of my family to know that the tombstone that lies in a cemetery in Feira de Santana brings much more than just a hyphen. The lady whose name is written there did much during her life and touched many. That lady is my Great Grandmother, my Bisa. I don't want anyone to ever forget her. That is why I wrote a book about her life to pass it down to our family.

Tith for children

I was thinking about the whole idea of tithing and how to teach children to tith. The idea of practicing tithing is one reason why I am inclined to think children should receive some sort of an allowance. I say I am inclined to think that, because, I usually say that children should not be paid for housework, because, after all, it is their house, and they have the same responsibility to keep it as everyone in the house. But don't housewives often get paid an allowance from their husbands? And don't we say that taking care of the house is a full time job? Why can't the other members of the family get their allowances for doing the same job as well? I am thinking that children should have a way of having their own money, money they've worked for, so that they can learn how to administer it.