Good News

On Tuesday, I completed a three-week process to obtain a therapist.

Because I have no job, it's free.

Rachel finally managed to convince me that it was a good idea.

<3

0.o

Whole-grain pringles.

IS NOTHING SACRED?!?

"Third Place"

I had a discussion today with a friend of mine who was brought up by a strict catholic family about her current spiritual meanderings. It went like this:


Me: so why are you interested in voodoo?
Her: Well, it allows me to break away from the parts of catholicism that I don't like, but without having to break away from the symbols I can't seem to let go of.
Me: so what's keeping you from practicing?
Her: having no idea what I'm doing, being too white to ask someone who does, not knowing what to do about the whole chicken sacrifice thing...
Me: So why not just fall into idolatrous worship of the saints?
Her: That's basically my plan. I'm ordering a set of like 200 saint-prayer things form the internet (because I need them anyway) and seeing if any of them mesh with me.


So my brain did this thing where it took that conversation and put it next to this one I had with another friend of mine:


Me: So why Celtic?
Other Friend: because that's where my family is from. I'm an Irish-Italian American, like 2nd or third generation, but still. I'm a really big believer that you should try to keep to the traditions in your blood.
Me: My blood is Brazilian. Like, not even European Brazilian or African-Brazilian. I'm an honest-to-god Brazilian Mutt. My dad's some weird mix of white people, Iberian peninsula, and like an African man thrown in the mix a couple generations back. My mother's father is straight up european from Holland and things. My grandmother has some indiginous brazilian in her somewhere... it's like, pure Brazilian Mutt. So, Candomble?
Other Friend: That's the syncretic religion down there, right?
Me: yep.
Other Friend: I guess so, then.
Me: Yeah, but then I have to worry about having a divination for my Orixa, and the terreiro, and I'm really not tan enough or Brazilian-cultured enough to just walk up to a terreiro and be all like, "Yo! Show me how to feel the divine presence in the way of my little old ancestors!" because there'll be staring n' things. And I know they'll give me one of the mother-goddess orixas, and that's a whole new can of worms right there. (even the female orixa who patrons the arts is a mother-goddess figure)


Which is a bunch of legitimate questions and concerns for me. Should I ask a preist/priestess for a jogo de buzios to divine the orixa I would work with? Can I be all like, "Hey, I have brought for the gods a live chicken as sacrifice, let's dance?" There are gonna be like... rules and things...

I dunno. It's just something to think about.

Caetano

So, the other day I was sitting on a bus with Rachel, and I saw her pull out a set of lyrics from her portuguese class. It was a song by Caetano Veloso. I go, "Hey! we should listen to it together." She pulls out her iphone; I pull out my splitter. Away we go. I'm expecting something cute based on the lyrics. However! Once the song starts to play, a sudden realization hits me.

I have heard this song a million times already and just never bothered to learn the words.

O Leaozihno. XD I think half of Pittsburgh thinks I'm crazy now from how often I just start giggling to myself on busses. eh.

Also, Rachel wants to know if there's a magazine she can subscribe to in the US that is in Portuguese and pertains to her interests. Think Cosmo.

just news

Realmente a familia está pelo mundo. Agora temos mais um membro na África. Calma ...... não é em Angola. O nobre membro, Walter Paschoal, está em Camarões participando de um programa de incentivo do governo brasileiro aos paises africanos.
Ele está ministrando treinamento sobre cultivo de mudas da lavoura cacaueira. Chic não é?
Estou muito feliz com isso.
Boa sorte Tinho. Todos estão torcendo por você !!!!!!

"Boy que eh boy nao come mel, chupa abelha!

Isso eh o que fala meu marido Oscar que voltou a vida de playboy: comprou uma motocicleta aos 60 hahahahaha! Victor acha o maior barato que o pai agora anda de moto.

Diz ele que vai praticar para ir ate Pittsburgh ver Tarsis. Agora a vizinhanca tem que tomar cuidado duplo, Luiz com a moto e Victor com carteira de motorista.

Tarsis: This is news?

So I have a three day weekend! Monday is Labor day, a national holiday. On top of that, my english teacher will be out of town on friday, so I'll only have one class! :D This gives me more time to work on my paper.

So my english teacher is irritating. We read short stories about girls being dragged out of their homes and murdered, about conditions in rural Peru, about what happens to you when you're the maid's daughter, etc. Then she goes off on long diatribes about how the world is a horrible place. "It's horrible," she says, "and we don't realize it because we live in such a nice country." I admit that it's important that people know how horrible a place the world can be. I admit that ultimately her point is to make us feel more grateful about our education and hopeful about our prospects in life and that this is a good point to be making.

However, I have two issues with this. First, she's distracting the class from the actual study of English. She spends so long making her point about how the world is a Bad Place that we don't talk about the art of writing. Metaphor, simile, allegory, tone: we don't talk about any of these things. On top of that, I think she's intimidating my classmates, making it even less likely for them to start talking in class. She doesn't keep her eyes open for students raising their hands to talk about the piece, so if you wanted to comment on one point the teacher made, you have to wait until she's made four or five more. By the time you want to comment on how the author purposefully left out women in his story (and why), she's talking about how horrible it is that Muslim women end up covered head to toe. The story took place in Argentina.

Second, I already know all of this. I've seen houses made out of plywood, tarp, and garbage bags. I already knew that some people will maim children to make them more effective beggars. I know that when China had a huge drought in the last century, people were down to eating dirt. Literally, they were eating dirt. I've had to deal with my guilt about being arbitrarily given a chance to make something of myself. It's in the past.

The worst part is that there isn't much I can do that won't get me kicked out of class. At least, I haven't thought of anything short of calling her out on it, and I can't think of a nice way to word, "You need to stop talking about the issues and start talking about English."

But hey, I don't have to see her again until Wednesday, and then it'll be two days of presentations by my classmates! So no lecture from her for over a week! :D

beginning

Oi gente


Como veem estou bem no incio deste novo processo. Na verdade eu adorei esta historia de blog familiar, é uma ótima forma de estarmos sempre atualizados sobre nossa familia, de saber o que cada um anda fazendo pq muitas vezes por telefone é mieo difícil.
Bom, isto me remete a este pedaço de fim do mundo onde vivo. Se não fosse a internet eu estava ilhada . O telefone está cada vez pior, não consigo fazer qualquer ligação .Tenho ligado pelo skype mas isto só funciona uma parte do dia. Mas vai -se levando.
Acabei de voltar do Brasil, mesmo após 7 anos , ainda preciso de uma semana ou mais para me readaptar. Estou com muita saudade dos meninos.
Beijos

Back to Asheville............

Just for e weekend............... I went to see my friend Luciana whom I have not seeing in months. It was great. We talked until one in the morning and still have lots to talk next time we see each other which I am hoping, will be soon.

We went to an Asian restaurant for dinner where the food is delicious with Julia and a friend who look just like Barbie, and yes just as dumb. She is really nice though. Ashevile has grown in the 12 years we moved from there. Downtown has really expended and has lots of bars and restaurnats. Very artsy as usual but with a bit more to do. Still, I would not want to go back and live there. Greenville has a different energy that suits us so much more. Asheville is still too quiet for me.

I am glad I have Luciana living there because it gives me a chance to go back and enjoy what the city has to offer.

Call of Duty

So, I am a mother and a mother is usually over protective and over concerned and over the top, etc.............. Victor , who is 15 and a half (if I forget the half he gets upset) is playing quite a bit of Call of Duty, a horrible bloody game with lots of shooting. I hate this type of games because they are violent and I am not really sure how much of this he internalizes. Does he differentiates between real and virtual? He gets extremely upset when he looses, as if his very existence depends on him winning. All I hear is him screaming "are you kidding me?" or 'That's a lie". I don't see him enjoying the strategy of the game, if there is one.............. On top of that, Victor has a temper which has gotten much better of the years but is very much there.

3 years ago I prohibit him to play Grand Theft Auto LA because I saw a scene of a person kicking another person while he was on the ground, not to mention the language. He got that as a present and I got rid of it. I told him, no Mature games. Now he is playing COD, another M game and I am not sure what to make of it. He is 15 and impressionable. I don't worry about these games being Milli-tainment as much because he has no tendencies to enlist but I do worry about the violence.

Everything is a battle with him, of course being a teen and boy and temperamental, we are always on a heated discussion about something. Right now we are arguing over the fact that he is getting his license but I am not letting him drive by himself across town to school. On that one, I am firm and have no doubts. On the game thing, I am not sure which way to go. Let him play or take away from him. Any takers?

#$%@#$#!!!!!

I finally sat down today and figured out what I have to do to get a driver's license. (With a list of forms and everything!) Go me? I have to get a learner's permit and then take the driving test, but at least this time I don't have to wait 6 months. woop de-friggin'-doo? eh.

The first week of school turned out to be disappointing. I forgot how much below my level of education CCAC is. I should stop expecting them to do things like.... well, think. At least I like the material for all my classes, and I'm 99% sure I'm getting straight A's.

On the bright side, I will still have a couple hundred dollars left over after buying books! huzzah!

Even better, we had a lasagna party yesterday. I made the lasagna with fresh pasta made by my roommate, Tuttle. Everyone loved it. :D We have no leftovers. D: But! We have plenty of fresh angel hair pasta for tonight because Tuttle made too much pasta last night! :D

Life is still good; I'm just irritated.

Where have you been?!?

Where HAVE I been! Where have I been?

I've been stuck in the suburbs (Rachel's parents' house) for two days puppy-sitting a chocolate lab that isn't house trained. I hate dogs. I hate suburbia. But now I am back!

More importantly, school has started. three of my classes started this week: English composition 2 (comp2), the Anthropology of Globalization (Anthro), and History of the World's Religions (Relig). In two weeks I start History of Modern Art (art), and Intro to Theater. ...or so THEY think!

I wanted to sign up for a literature course. Because comp2 is the prerequisite for a proper literature course, that would mean waiting or talking to a teacher. So, I signed up for theater because it counts toward my literature requirement in case this crazy plan doesn't work, and it gives me time to find a better course.

I forgot how dumb the people at CCAC are. eh.

These boots were made for... kung fu?

Julian had his birthday party last night. Because his roommate is moving, there are boxes all over his apartment and almost no floorspace, so he had it in our apartment. Fortunately, all of Julian's friends are people who would rather drink gin and tonics and discuss whether or not J.K. Rowling is racist or not than to drink beer and get rowdy. Therefore, it was a lovely party and my apartment is not in shambles, though there is an unusually large collection of sparkling water bottles on the kitchen table.

I also got to be useful in a way I've never been useful before! One of the guests, Toph, said he was interested in studying neo-paganism but didn't know where to start. So I actually managed to give him good advice: learn to meditate, read books about mythology, gather basic altar supplies, and don't trust the internet. :D Hoorah for being useful!

Final piece of news: our third roomie has moved in! Tuttle is a CMU student with long, frizzy blond hair. He's a nice guy, but a little overenthusiastic sometimes. Google is probably hiring him; he start working there next summer. He is very exited about the oversized beanbag he bought for the living room.

The title of the post refers to the discussion Julian, Sara and I got into regarding how vulnerable I feel in heels, and this being caused mostly by my martial arts training me teaching me to stay on my flat feet. They tried to argue that it is possible to learn to fight in heels, and that it doesn't have to present a monstrous disadvantage.

I am still not convinced that this mythic "Stiletto Style" martial art exists. I must find the master of the style, hidden high up in the mountains, and train with her.

Incidentally, Julian looks really good in heels, tight black pants, tight black shirt, gray lace shirt over it, and strange womans' sweater. I wish I had taken a picture.

apparently I'm interesting?

So last night Rachel and I went to a gender-bending burlesque! It was a mere $5. The whole troupe was female bodied but the gender's ranged from transitionless transman to femme lesbian. If that was confusing just don't think about it.

The show was mostly geared toward making people feel better about their strange and diverse identities: fat, girly, man stuck in a woman's body, etc. It was a cute show; I liked it. When we met up with friends at a coffeehouse afterward, we all kinda agreed that (while it was cute and enjoyable) the show wasn't as revolutionary as it wanted to be.

Or maybe we're just too used to queer people.

I live in a city, for real.

So Squirrel Hill, the neighborhood I live in, is very insular. It's mostly Jews, gays, and college students. As a result, I can walk around holding Rachel's hand and kiss her on the street and not worry. It also means that I basically live in a town with all the crazy people and resources that a city provides.

Then, every once in a while, I remember that I live in a city, and that some of the legends are true.

Today, Rachel and I traipsed down to the bookstore in Oakland to grab her books for school. We ate lunch at Panera (Rachel's treat to me!) and grabbed a bus back home. The 61C, which is my favorite bus, goes to Homestead, which is one of Pittsburgh's many stereotypical poor black neighborhoods. Today, there were four or five female residents of the area on the back of the bus, and they were having a conversation.

Holy sh*t. Some black people are really loud. ...and really funny.

In between the conversation they had about welfare sucking and how many babies everyone had, they cracked a lot of good jokes about crazy people on the bus, bus drivers that didn't know what they were doing, claustraphobia... it was great. Rachel and I couldn't stop smiling.

It's also always a little weird to remember that stereotypes come from somewhere.

First post

Hey!

Try number two, guys! I still can't type in Portuguese, but at least everyone can access this blog!

Last night I went to a small party. My friends Julian and Sarah wanted to celebrate their friend Mallory being back in town, even though she was only back for two nights. So we all went to Gene's house and had homemade pizza. Mallory made a delicious white cake with chocolate frosting. (No, really, the frosting had rum and espresso in it. I almost melted. x.x)

After dinner, we all sat around and had caipirinhas. (kinda... we don't make them exactly right. :/) Then everyone started telling stories in British accents, except for Julian, who decided to be contrary and therefore eastern European. Julian told the myth of Aphrodite and Hephaestus, and Sara told the tale of how LoolaGweffeth (no, that is not spelled correctly. f***ing welsh...) got his name and his arms from Arianrhod. (that is spelled correctly. ...f***ing welsh.) Mallory told the old Jewish story of the creation of Lillith's children, which is an older version of the story of Genesis. By then we had to go home, but it was really fun!

Well, really, it's that we had to leave Gene's because she wanted to sleep. Julian and Sara came over to Rachel's and my new apartment for a spell, wherein we played the ukulele and surfed youtube.

Then sleep happened. For real this time.