A 30-year-old smile

Transform me my years
into something huger
From grey to blue sky
From spoiled to kind

Make over me my years
into something clearer
From worn-out to worthy
From weak to mighty

Change me my years
into something better
From pitiable to influential
From raw to bearable

Ripe me my years
and turn me into something valid
by Laila Chris

A bit of the beauty of being Bella

Down There
by Sandra Cisneros
from book: "Loose Woman"


Your poem thinks it's bad
Because it farts in the bath.
Cracks its knuckles in class.
Grabs its balls in public
and adjusts---one,
the the other---
back and forth like a Slinky. No,
more like the motion
of a lava lamp.
You follow me?

Your poem thinks it's
cool to pee in the pool.
Waits for the moment
someone's watching before
it sticks a finger up
its nose and licks
it. Your poem's weird.

The kind that swaggers in like Wayne
or struts its stuff like Rambo.
The kind that learned
to spit at 13 and still is doing it.

It blames its bad habits
on the Catholic school.
Picked up words that
snapped like bra straps.
Learned words that ignite
of their own gas
like a butt hole flower.
Fell in love with words
that thudded like stones and sticks.
Or stung like fists.
Or stank like shit
gorillas throw at zoos.

Your poem never washes
its hands after using the can.
Stands around rolling
toilet paper into wet balls
it can toss up to the ceiiling
just to watch them stick.
Yuk yuk.

Your poem is a used rubber
sticky on the floor
the next morning,

the black elephant
skin of the testicles
hairy as kiwi fruit
and silly, the shaving
stubble against the purity
of porcelain,
one black pubic
hair on the sexy
lip of toilet seat,
the swirl of spit
with a cream of celery
center, a cigarette
stub sent hissing
to the piss pot,
half-finished
bottles of beer reeking
their yeast incense,
the miscellany of maleness:
nail clippers and keys,
tobacco and ashes,
pennies quarters nickels dimes and
dollars folded into complicated origami,
stub of ticket and pencil and cigarette, and
the crumb of the pockets
all scattered on the Irish
linen of the bedside table.

Oh my little booger,
it's true.

Because someone once
said 'Don't do that!'
you like to do it.

Baby, I'd like to mention
the Tampax you pulled with your teeth
once in a Playboy poem
and found it, darling, not so bloody.
Not so bloody at all, in fact.
Hardly blood cousin
except for an unfortunate
association of color
that makes you want to swoon.


Yes,
I want to talk at length about Menstruation. Or my period.
Or the rag as you so lovingly put it.
All right then.

I'd like to mention my rag time.

Gelatinous. Steamy
and lovely to the light to look at
like a good glass of burgundy.
Suddenly, I'm artist each month.
The star inside this like a ruby.
Fascinating bits of sticky
I-don't-know-what-stuff.
The afterbirth without the birth.
The gobs of a strawberry jam.
Membrane stretchy like
saliva in your hand.

It's important you feel its slickness,
understand the texture isn't bloody at all.
That you don't gush between the legs.
Rather, it unravels itself like string
from some deep deep center---
like a Russian subatomic submarine,
or better, like a mad Karlov cackling
behind beakers and blooping spirals.
Still with me?

Oh I know, darling,
I'm indulging, but indulge
me if you please.
I find the subject charming.

In fact,
I'd like to dab my fingers in my inkwell
and write a poem across the wall.
"A Poem of Womanhood"
Now wouldn't that be something?

Words written in blood.
But no, not blood at all, I told you.
If blood is thicker than water, then
menstruation is thicker than brotherhood.

And the way it metamorphosizes! Dazzles.
Changing daily like startlight.
From the first transparent drop of light
to the fifth day chocolate paste.

I haven't mentioned smell. Think
Persian rug. But thicker.
Think cello. But richer.
A sweet exotic snuff
from an ancient prehistoric center.
Dark, distinct,
and excellently
female.

Ten truths about myself...

It's about time for you all - fellow bloggers, students, friendly readers - to know some truths about me... Embrace yourself and don't ever tell me that I have never warned you about these things.

1. If I stay more than 32 hours with empty stomach, I'll faint. I've also had this peculiar habit of shutting my eyes really tight every time I sneeze. My husband thinks this is kinda cute, though.

2. I've been trained by skillful disciples of an Indian guru called Paramahansa Yogananda to obtain the power of resurrecting living creatures. Since I'm in my early studies, so far, my power has only worked on recovering lizards' tails.

3. Some of the products that I can't live without are: adult diapers, dandruff shampoos, sleeping pills, holy water, concealer, and self-help books.

4. If I touch hot boiling water or heat up iron, I get burnt skin and blisters come out after that. And this is hard to say... but... my farts and belches aren't fragrant.

5. Some of the things you'll find in my bedroom are a butterfly knife, lithium, rat poison, pepper spray, a pile of old "O" magazines, and a box with all Mariah Carrey's best singles - anything for self-defense and protection.

6. Had I been born in Malaysia, I would have been born a toothless illiterate bald baby.

7. Some cars aren't made for me. They have got three pedals and I was born with only two legs.

8. Satan has found a way to control my technology devices. Many times while typing unsaved posts for blogs, e-mails for supplier, or working on translations, these texts manage to completely disappear from the computer system. And that normally happens after a computer screen window is closed. Where do these files go? Ask Satan. I almost forgot to mention some weird schemes that lie beneath some commands such as control-V, control-C, control-Z, control-N, and control-A. These are all devilish tools. I must exorcise this machine.

9. I don't want to shock any of you guys but I can't stand roaches so I do kill them in coldbloodedness when they come across.

10. Finally, I am very much ashamed of this, but... I have decided to let out some of my truths, so here it is: I have no power to control my heart beats. This is doggone true. Besides, I've got no eating disorders either. I've got no phobias, mental disturbance, or traumas. I'm free from depression or any sort of stress. Actually, I am not quite sure if I'm alive.

There!!!

It is true that I had written two other posts for Bulb's meme - which is not meme according to him - but then I decided to delete them. I don't know why I couldn't post them. One was about what it is to live in an 'under-developed' country and the other was about fear, more specifically fear of driving generated by a car accident. For a moment, I felt that I could publish both. I was wrong (or maybe not). They both came out poorly written so I thought it was worth getting rid of them. On the other hand, I got stuck with my 'nationalist' post. I don't even know what this entry will end up like. But at this time, I will just post it no matter how bad this will end up being.

Although I write texts here in English (never apologized formally for my possible 'sad' mistakes and awkwardnesses with the language - forgimme Lord too for that! (LOL)), I am Brazilian and have lived back in Brazil for the last 3 years. Portuguese is the official language of this country. There are other spoken languages here too. Different from what many of you might think, all the other languages found in Brazil are unknown, and only spoken ones. They belong to the Brazilian native indians. Some of them are even taught at universities to anthropologists and scholars of Brazilian culture. Brazil is one of the richest nations when it comes to cultural diversity and that makes me really proud of being Brazilian.

There are now more than 180 million people residing in this land. That is a huge amount. There aren't many countries where Portuguese is spoken (7), but when I see that number of population only in Brazil, then I realize that there are many speakers of this language. That is why I never understood that many times the Portuguese language is often forgotten when one thinks of South American cultural facts. I speak neither Spanish nor Brazilian. Brazilian isn't nearly a nationality, to my opinion. It is the name of a group of victims that live together in a country which is 15 times the size of France.

The thing which scares me is the negative rates and statistics around that number of population. Now, my friend bloggers, I get to my point... Once, while reading Marcele's blog (Marcele is an old friend of mine), she's made me learn that 30% of Brazilian population live under poverty standards. That is, it is known that these folks have to survive throughout a month by making less than 50 American dollars. How can a family be supported for a month with US$50??? I really don't know the answer to that question. It is no wonder that in "poor" countries you have the highest rates of urban violence.

I should now mention Michael Moore's fuss in the US. Apart of political views or beliefs, I kind of admire his work, specially his well written documentaries. By watching that "Bowling for Columbine", I got to know that Michael was scared at the high number of deaths caused by bullets in his nation. I then got scared at our own crazy rates here; I quite don't see the same alert work being done which it should since there are over 40,000 deaths a year caused by fire guns in Brazil. The confusing thing lies on having the sensation that I live in a paradisiac place with beautiful beaches and women, good sounding music, the best soccer in the world, etc: A Bloody Paradise.

Living in a place like that, where we are to believe that 'everything is gonna be all right' in the end, can be pretty dreadful. Everyone I know knows at least one person who has already been robbed, stolen, shot, kidnapped, carjacked, or had his or her house broken into by stupid burglers, or even lost a loved one. Once reading a blog written by an American lady, she described her closest experience with urban crimes - she had her car radio taken because she'd left the passanger's door unlocked. I thought how lucky she was for having a car and a radio to be taken, unlike those Brazilian families that have to make it through the month with $50 in their pockets. Neverthless, while speaking to a Sudanese refugee here in Brazil, he told me about the same: "how lucky you Brazilian are because you can trust in your kids. A young person can approach you on the streets and you can be sure he won't stick out a machine gun and point it to your face." I could contradict him right there, but I'd rather have not said anything to him.

The thing is that I have already been robbed by having a young kid pointing his gun to my face here in Brazil. He was probably as old as I was. I was 15 at that time. I was walking to my uncle's house when he showed up from the back of a big car which was parked on a busy avenue at around 5 o'clock in the afternoon. He seemed altered by drugs. He was nervous and scared - he didn't want to get caught. He threatened me with that weapon by saying: "Gimme what you got - wallet, wristwatch, jewelry, sneakers, fancy jacket... everything - or I'll shoot you!!!" How lucky I was to have all those material gains to be taken... right? (now with an ironic tone in my speech) How lucky I was to be able to trust the kids down here because they are never gonna point a gun to my face... right??? Yet, I am still proud of being Brazilian and speak and write in PORTUGUESE.

One-Two-Three-QUATRO

I am now two assignments late, or almost: one for BULB and the other for WRITER MOM. I promise to turn them in asap. I have been real busy and so working on posts would mess up with my daily duties. Meantime, since I have been tagged by Rain with this "QUATRO" kind of questions... here they are. I think I'd rather type my old assignments tomorrow.

4 Places I’ve lived
1. São Paulo City, São Paulo state - Brazil
2. Londrina, Paraná State - Brazil
3. Saint Petersburg, Florida - USA
4. Caxias do Sul, Rio Grande do Sul State - Brazil

4 Jobs I've had
1. Newsradio Reporter;
2. Babysitter;
3. Japanese Restaurant Cashier;
4. International Marketeer for this company.

4 Movies I can watch over and over
1. Donnie Darko;
2. Clockwork Orange;
3. Ed Gein;
4. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

4 TV shows that make me happy
1. Seinfeld (I've got all seasons on DVD);
2. MAD TV;
3. Martha Stewart Living (it used to be "a wonderful thing"... LOL);
4. Jerry Springer Show (miss Steve). Or John Edwards or/and Minister Popoff rulez!!!

4 Vacations
1. Miami, FL;
2. New York City, NY;
3. Chicago, IL;
4. Florianópolis, Santa Catarina state - Brazil.

4 Websites I Visit Daily
1. My school site;
2. My blog;
3. Google;
4. MSN.

4 Favorite Foods
1. All Italian dishes (Carbonara Angel hair, Zitti with Marinara sauce, Fettuccini Alfredo, etc);
2. Outback rack of lamb with loaded baked potato;
3. Mexican dishes (nachos and salsa, Mole Poblano, releños, fajitas, etc);
4. Vietnamese soups, egg rolls, and rice paper wraps.

4 Places I'd Rather Be
1. Monterrey
2. Okinawa
3. São Paulo
4. Leipzig

4 Albums I Can't Live Without
1. The Beatles - Revolvers
2. Led Zeppelin - Led Zepellin 3
3. Joy Division - Closer
4. Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dream

Be back Saturday...

This was stolen from Bulb and Lori who stole it from Cheryl, and she stole it from Steve who lifted it from Le Laquet who copied it from I-don't-know-who who died of heart condition.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Laila!

1. California is the biggest exporter of Laila in the world.
2. Human beings are the only animals that copulate while facing Laila!
3. The Eskimos have over fifty words for Laila!
4. The only planet that rotates on its side is Laila.
5. When Laila is swallowed, she will enter the blood stream within twenty minutes!
6. If you cut Laila in half and count the number of seeds inside, you will know how many children you are going to have.
7. Carnivorous animals will not eat another animal that has been hit by Laila.
8. During World War II, Americans tried to train Laila to drop bombs.
9. If you kiss Laila for one minute you will burn six or seven calories.
10. The first Laila was made in 1853, and had no pedals.

kkkkkkkkkkk

LOL! I have found this on this spot! Would that be true? Please, make me think this over. I just know that I can't stop laughing at this! Brazilians show that they are laughing in chat rooms by typing countless: "kkkkk"...

pause for poetry...

***HURT***

by Laila Chris

I hold you in between my teeth

and to calm you down, my beast,

I'd rather compose romances for you

but I'd have more profit by chanting

chanting spells, witchcrafting, voodooing

to keep you asleep in my throat,

so that you can't scratch, scrape,

tear my gums 'til they bleed...

But I subdued myself,

setting my kindness in a song.

Dedicate to your primal soul.

It's made of voiceless timbers,

breakbeats of a warm swollen heart,

without tempo or cadence.

The piece is being played as I free you.

Soundlessly, I let you go...

Right. No point on mutual pain and sorrow.

H-A-P-P-I-N-E-S-S

Angeline is one of my best blogger friends. She's wonderful because she's the greatest mom ever. She's got the prettiest children. She writes fine and psychedelically and her blog brings me so much amusement. She's also super because she's requested me a fun post. She's assigned me to write about 5 things that make me happiest. That'll be a piece of cake!!!

Before I get started on that, I owe some explanations why I have been a little away. Firstly, I was enjoying my last days of vacation. I had to do it. I have been taking 15-day vacations yearly since 1998. 15 days are never enough to me. I'm a type B person. I am a confessed lazy-ass kind of individual so, to me vacation means a lot. Workaholic? Are there workaholic folks around? You sick people! Excuuuuuuse me. I'd rather lay on a hammock under the shade of palm trees drinking some cocktail listening to birds chirping... You, Angeline, can consider that my number 1 thing that makes me happy: it is called life. And this little thing called LIFE goes by as fast as a whip.

Another reason why I took a break from blogging came from Bulb's assignment. He'd tagged some of his fellow bloggers to write a sad and shocking story so that Sassy would get a little cheered up. The cause is fair. I've been working on my textS for days. TextS??? Yeah. I came up with two unfinished posts. I may publish both of them. Yet, I've been having a great deal of difficulty at the conclusion part. That is because it's utterly troublesome to write about depressing things - at least for me! I take writing seriously. I may not be keen on it but I often exercise it and hope to achieve a high level on this practice. And this is the thing number 2 that makes me very happy: GOOD WRITING.

I miss vacation already. During those days I had nothing else to do besides resting my wounded toe, petting Tibby, having hot breakfast served while I was still in bed (thanks Roberto), and other good stuff... I also watched movies, many movies, mainly psycho-thrillers. I like other genres too. I am very fond of documentaries, biographical, and silent flicks - especially burlesque comedies. (Speaking of "silent movies", I haven't forgotten that Saucy also assigned me to post something about this topic: "I WILL, SAuCY"). Actually, I love comedies in general. I love jokes, sarcasm, funny events, hilarious posts, t-shirts, stickers - but I peel them after reading... The bottom line is I care for laughing. I laugh, giggle, crack up for any single reason. I laugh at flat tires. I laugh when I'm drunk, and when I'm sober too. I laugh at the pope's preaching. I laugh at Britney Spears's voice. I laugh at meals that end up saulty. I laugh at my own face. I laugh at snobish and pretentious people. I laugh at losers. I laugh when I lose. I laugh at this. I laugh not only because laughing is the third thing that makes me happy, but also because LAUGHTER (3) is the best tool to intelligent reasoning.

I had been away from my own spot, but I've been reading all my favorite blogs. I know that I don't sometimes leave a comment but I read them regularly. Rain or Lori once said that reading a post and not typing a comment is the same as reaching an aswering machine and not recording a message. Excellent comparison! I just don't like being repetitive and I often run into opinions and suggestions which I share and they were previously posted by other reader. Nah! There is no need to rewrite thoughts. I praise originality. Don't like copies. I don't like manufactured ideas. I respect archetypes but I hate stereotypes. I hate fashion for instance. It is not necessary to own a 2006 Escalade just because a celebrity so and so has it. Buying Nike sneakers is lacking individuality. Being unique is a hard task these days. When I get to meet one-of-a-kind folks like my blogger friends... wow, that makes me happy. Simply see for yourselves that one blog is just not like the other one. Number 4 thing is right there: all my FRIENDS: blogger ones, msn ones, orkut ones, real life ones - ALL OF THEM. They are true and original people. All of them are special and very much peculiar.

Sad that my vacation is over. I am back to teaching and running this school that I really love. My 15-day break was quite short but I can't complain. I had the best time although the toe accident. 2005 is also over. It was an interesting year. It's hard to define it but the word 'interesting' pretty much says it all. That was the year when I got a pet for the first time in my life. I admit that I love Tibby to the bones. Last year, I lost my grandpa; I couldn't visit my parents again; I returned to my German language studies. Love love love languages. I got the best students. I taught the best and the worst classes. Serious teaching is based on love. Teachers who don't love what they do are just fooling everyone. In 2005, I also went through depression (Lori gave me great support on that during those times! Bulb helped too!) I almost got divorced (some readers will be surprised, especially my students, since nothing was ever mentioned about this issue). I had even thought of changing my life completely. Thanks to I-don't-know-what, this is all over. Now I know that taking the chance of "changes" would have been the worst decision. I would have lost the number 5 thing that makes me the happiest person ever. I would have given up LOVE. "What 'love' are you talking about, Laila?". L-O-V-E! I could have wasted this love: love for being a fullfilled professional; love for treasuring living things; love for knowing creative and inventive minds; love for being who I am; love for the place I come from; love for making good use of technology... I would have killed the love that lives in and with me.

My Five Weird Habits

I was tagged by Lori and Angeline to write about 5 weird habits I have. Unlike Krissy, I'm not all perfect (loved that comment) so I should confess that I've got more... many more than only 5 weird manias. I'm the human form of weirdness. Everything in me is strange as far as I'm concerned. Take my own blog for instance, its template, photos, its title, my profile, my posts... I write in a language that isn't my mother tongue for crying out loud. These are signs that I am not... let's say... so common.

There are other evidences too. I am weird because even my name is weird. My first name has an Islamic origin, my second one means "Christian" and I've come to believe I have Jewish blood. Just weird. I'm also a total relaxed person and that is very weird for a teacher who lives in the 2000's. I'm so chilled and spaced out that I often forget to breath. I know that forgetting to breath is one of the symptoms of stress but you have got to believe me, in my case, it is fully incapacity to stress over nothing, not even to breath in. I'm strange because I've never seen movies that no one believes I haven't: "E.T.", none of all three "Lord of the Rings", "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" (none of both versions), none of those modern Disney or Pixar animations -- some of my students get even mad at me because of that. Well, at least I have seen "Shrek 1" and I hated it - it is getting worse. I know it.

However, I am here to talk about my 5 weirdest habits. 5? Cinq, Fünf, Hamsa, Go, Chamesch, Fem, Five, Cinco... Only 5? This is really tough, Lori and Angeline, but I am gonna get to the bottom of this. Ok, so here they are:

I. I talk to myself. In other words, "call a doctor". Yeah. I speak alone. I've thought of this habit just being an "aloud thinking process" but the truth is that I do speak to myself. I inquire, I wonder, I reply, and I even get to disagree with my own points (of course, I'm a woman!). I mostly do this in bathrooms. I need to be completely secluded for that so people don't see me as a freak, which I am, but no one needs to notice it.

II. I enjoy, love, lust removing labels of all products I see: shampoo bottles, detergents, parfums, deodorants, beer bottles, even vitamins and food suplements. The plastic labels are my favorite because they were made to be taken off. It's a fact. It is so good to unstick them gently and slowly. I just can't stand products that actually come with their labels painted or printed directly on the bottles. I avoid buying them because they are so not fun.

III. I'm fascinated by cats as most of you already know. So, I decided to get my own last year. Tibby arrived home last March and since then, she has given me brighter days (oh!). I love her so much that I can stare at her for hours while she sleeps. You all may be asking yourselves: "what's the matter there?" I'll answer. The weirdest thing is that I stare at her singing songs that I write for her. The lyrics are mostly about her, of course, like this one:

Tibby is my cat/

Tibby is my everything/

Tibby is anything she wants to be/

She is a smile/

She's an angel/

She is the perfect version of me/

La! La! La!

All right, all right... I know I am not a good song writer, but Tibby is still a kitty, she's not even a year old cat, so those songs are supposed to sound just like they were made for kids. Yeah, maybe it's about time for me to have babies.

IV. Another weird habit I've got is to overuse the Google search tool on the internet. It's probable that many people rely on it since it is seriously handy. However, I don't only use it for my everyday researches but also I have a blast by seeking odd materials and pictures so I type total out-of-the-blue subjects such as:

• Axe Murderers in Cincinnatti;
• Melanomas in Pigmies;
• Natural Disasty Awards 2005;
• How Come Barbie Dolls Have no Nipples;
• Life after Zoloft;
• Dr. Phil is Stupid;
• Reproductive Organs of Penguins;
• and several others...

And the best hits, I save them in weird folders under My Favorites titled: Criminology, Out-of-the-Body Experiences, The History of Exorcism , etc.

V. My last weird habit is that I don't appreciate watching movie previews. I can't explain exactly why, but maybe because I'm crazy about psycho-thrillers and I think previews of these genre give out way much to the audience, so I refuse seeing them. As soon as I get the DVD into the player, I skip the menu options and I straight hit "play the movie". It is true that I seem not to have a choice when I'm at theaters, so I am never embarrassed to shut my eyes during the preview presentation. Weird? A little, I guess.

Many bloggers I know have already been tagged. So... lemme see..., I'll tag Bulb (I know Lori has already tagged you and you said "NO", but we insist), Gabe, Saucy Monk, Carol Loly Haze, and Gabriel. Some of them may reply in Portuguese.

I just wanna know why...

I. How come people get disgusted and complain to waiters that they have encountered a thread of hair in a bowl of soup? What if that hair was washed and conditioned? I bet carrots don't get that well-washed at those places. Don't even get me started with mice... They are just living mammals like us for Christ's sake!!! There are some folks that just love making scenes at restaurants.

II. "Why is your blog called THE PAWNSHOP?" I get this question many times. Why is Laila my name? Why was God named Jehova by the Christians and Jahue by the Jews? Why there have to be reasons for names all the time? Naming anything is very complicated, especially kids. I read once in a celebrity magazine (yeah, right! I read celebrity magazines every now and then... who cares?) So, I was saying that I read once about a Brazilian model who named her baby boy Zion. Wait a minute... Zion??? Was she for real? Why??? OK, now I wanna know why? Some may think it is a pretty name, however in Brazil this name Zion sounds a bit weird and it gets me concerned... No... Not because of the obvious teasing this kid is gonna get at Brazilian schools, but because one day, this boy will meet another boy by the same age with the same name. ...And the model's child will certainly ask "why did your parents name you Zion, just like me?". And his homonymous friend will go, "because that was the name of a drag queen who happened to be performing on a late show on TV at the moment I was being conceived." Now that's worrisome.

III. Why are there still human beings that do not call before dropping by at their friend's? Don't they know that telephones have been invented? Helloooo... It is not science fiction. It is true that nowadays we find paid phones, cordless ones (wow, I even got impressed myself), and cell phones! Maybe those folks don't know how to dial. Let's just face it, OK? How can a person not call ahead to announce they're coming over? Don't they fix breakfast barenaked having only the apron on so that they don't get their tummies burned by drops of hot oil? Don't they get their houses "decorated" with dirty socks, stained underwears, and air balloons made out of condoms? ...or is that just with me? (pause for a deep breath) CALL, dudes! Let me know in advance you're gonna stop by so that I can have reasonable time to toss my dirty laundry in the basket and get some decent clothes on.

...

Time
by Carlos Drummond de Andrade

Who had this brilliant idea
of cutting the time in slices
Slices which were named YEARS
He was a genius individual who
got to industrialize hope
by making it work to the limit
of the exhaustion.

12 months are enough to make any human being
get tired and have a breakdown.

Then, it comes the miracle of renovation
Everything starts all over again, with another number
and another wish to believe
that from now on it is going to be different.

Happy New Toe!

I know I said that I'd only return here next year. However, something has happened to me that I needed to register in a post. Those things don't happen every day, so I couldn't miss the chance to type about it... I know it is not really important, but it has been painful.

I remember that around this time last year, I wrote a list of my New Year's Resolutions. I have kept all the same resolutions for this year again, since they are timeless sensed, they will be all true for 2006. I'm on vacation still and don't want and don't feel like posting anything different for now... but hey? I'm typing something here... Too late! I'll say it... It's about my foot... more precisely, my right big toe!!!

Funny that I also needed to talk about PAIN, but my pain has been a lot more physical. I got my right foot toe sprained or twisted, don't know how to describe exactly! Just imagine a foot that was folded in half. That happened while I was trying to rescue Tibby from an imminent death. She could have been slaughtered by the neighbor's dogs. "...what a nice way to start 2006..." i know it! I had to climb up a tall wall that is when the accident happened - bad landing... ouch!

I'm a mix of weird and irresponsible person for this I didn't rush to the hospital... No I didn't do any bandages or rub any medicine on it. I just let it hurt... I did check on the web some sort of tests to find out whether my toe is just sprained or actully broken... so here it is:

How to Know if Your Toe Is Broken:

Trying to determine whether your toe is broken or just badly bruised is sometimes difficult. When in doubt, see your doctor. (how come there are steps to find that out, if only doctors can help? Aie aie aie)

Steps:

1. Remove your shoe and sock, and feel for any deformity. Gently run your fingers up and down your toe. If your toe feels crooked or lumpy, it's more likely that it's broken than sprained. (My big toes have been crooked since I was born. And now what?)

2. Wiggle your toe. Severe pain suggests the toe is broken. (Wiggle? What the heck is "WIGGLE"?)

3. Listen to your toe while wiggling it. If you hear a grating or popping noise, a piece of broken toe bone may be rubbing against another piece of toe bone. (I've pictured that description, oooouuuch, it hurts more now!!!)

4. Check for swelling. If your toe is puffed up double its size and the skin is stretched, you may have broken your toe. (Gee! If my toe swelled double its size, I think I'd noticed it. It doesn't look that bad, but it does hurt like hell...)

5. Compare your injured toe to the same toe on the other foot. If the injured toe looks shorter or deformed, it may be broken. (Ok, now then I see. It's broken, or it could, may, might be possibly broken... I still don't wanna see a doctooooor!)

6. Check your temperature. Within 2 to 3 hours after a bone breaks, the body's natural defense mechanisms kick in to raise your temperature. A fever above 99.6 degrees F suggests the toe is broken. (I felt it warmer two days ago... no, I won't accept it!)

7. The only sure way to know if your toe is broken is to have it X-rayed. (Oh great! So all the PAIN that I had to go through by taking each step of this test was just a huge waste of time???)

Apparently my right toe has passed all the tests! It's getting fine... I'll be OK!!! Hubby placed some ice on it... That helped! Tibby has thanked me for having saved her life... That also has helped! My brother-in-law sent me some soothing photographs of the most amazing places of this planet... They are helping forget the pain! Later, I'll ask him if I am allowed to post them here. My mom too has done her part. She's sent me a living room set for Christmas as a total surprise. Now, I have more reasons to prostrate my fat body on a comfortable sofa and do absolutely nothing.

Vacation Self-Portrait Tuesday!!!

Be back next year!!! Gone resting!!! ;-D

ME M e mmee...

I received through e-mail, for the second time, a personal questionnaire from Marcele. "Marcele, I just now realized that I wrote your name incorrectly in that post I'd dedicated to you." The idea is to reply the email by listing our own personal answers. Some of my responses may shock you, Marcele. But y'know, it's been a long time we don't meet so many things have changed in me. You'll get over this. We always get used to new things... hihihi

1. What is your full name? Laila Christina de Bragança Cavallera Onasis von Murdoc.

2. What color pants are you wearing? Light brown, it's made of jeans and stretch. I love the pockets of these pants.

3. What are you listening to right now? German Beer drinking songs - Ja, ja, ja das ist wahr!!!It's a CD that a student of mine bought at an Oktober Fest!

4. What was the last thing you ate? A chocolate barr.

5. Do you wish on stars? Nah!

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Red. Love red. It's not my faaaaaavorite color, but it coats well.

7. How is the weather right now? Damp, a little cold, and foggy - not a typical day at this time of the year.

8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? To the mother of a student.

9. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Marcele has sent me this me-me-me list of questions. I've posted here, just scroll down this page, a text that simply says it all about this lady. What else can I say? I simply love her!

10. Favorite drink? "Red" wine.

11. Favorite sport to play? Sumo Wrestling. I nail it.

12. Hair color? Dark Brown.

13. Weight and height? 1m 63cm, 60 kilograms.

14. Siblings? Jennifer, 25 and Fernanda, 22.

15. Favorite month? January - it's my birthday month and the birthday month of many people I love and care.

16. Favorite food? SALMON - raw, grilled, broilled, fried, roasted... SIMPLY SO GOOOOOD

17. What was the last movie you saw? Donnie Darko - for the fifth time!

18. Favorite day of the year? October 31st - Halloween!

19. What do you do to vent anger? I cry/ I write/ I draw/ I cook/I study/ I email friends/I clean/I mess/I blog/

20. What was your favorite toy as a child? An old red Remington Typewriter.

21. Summer or winter? WINTER

22. Hugs or kisses? Both.

24. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back? Wth? I'm posting my answers in my blog... HIHIHIHI

25. Who is most likely to respond? No one, since I am not sending the answers to anyone. I've done it before - about a year ago in fact.

26. Who is least likely to respond? I have no clue (I'll keep Marcele's answer).

27. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday. I cried but right then I was kissed and comforted.

29. Who is the friend you have had the longest? Lu, or Luciana. I´ve known her since we didn't know what alcohol was.

30. What did you do last night? I watched a movie, had beer, and pizza.

31. What are you afraid of? Raising a monster as my kid.

32. Describe yourself in one word? FREAKINESS.

33. Favorite car? I ain't a good driver. Hate drivers in general. I don't pretty much care about cars.

34. What´s the thing you like doing the most in your life? Writing, teaching, cursing, studying, learning, scratching my ear canals with cotton swabs, reading, listening to others, eating, drinking, melting stuff, having the jitters from a creepy good psycho-thriller movie, and talking to the ones I care.

35. Favorite flower? I hate the sun, but I love Sunflowers.

36. Who do you admire? So many folks: J. M. GONÇALVES; FERNANDO PESSOA; GARCIA LORCA; LUIZA VALENZUELA; MAIAKOVYSKI; TOLSTOY; UMBERTO ECO; FRIDA KAHLO; FAULKNER; EDGAR A. POE; CHARLES SPENCER CHAPLIN; CLARICE LISPECTOR; ALLIGHIERI; FREUD; EDNA PURVIANCE; MARIO PRATA; HILLARY SWANK, ISAAC EPSTEIN; DAVID BOWIE; ALAIN TOURAINE; KUBRICK; NIETZCHE; JUDY DENCH; POLANSKI; BOB BURNQUIST; HEMINGWAY; BEAUVOIR; SHAKESPEARE; JOHN CLEESE; CHARLES SANDERS PIERCE; BARTHES; SAUSSURE; CARLOS DRUMMOND; SUSAN SONTAG; MARLON BRANDON; SAMUEL BECKETT; OSCAR WILDE; FRITZ LANG; NOAM CHOMSKY; GOYA; MUNCH; MIRO; BURROUGHS; BORTOLOTTO; MAGRITTE; KANDINSKY; NERUDA; POLLACK; DALI; CHICO SCIENCE & NAÇÃO ZUMBI... and some others that I could not remember to name here.

37. Type of job? ESL teacher, writer, and translator.

38. Favorite day of the week? Mondays.

39. What did you do for your last birthday? I went to a nice restaurant with Roberto (my hubby).

40. How many states have you lived in? 1 in the US and 3 in Brazil.

41. How many cities have you lived in? 1 in the US and 4 in Brazil.

42. What do you collect? Pens. I have thousand of those: scented, glittered, colored, classical, kids-like, ballpointed... all kinds.

43. Favorite kind of music? Polka, Nordic Folk music, and Celtic.

44. If you could be someone else rather than yourself, who would you be? I'd be a male version of me... I'd be called Lailo and I wouldn't have pms... GREAT!

45. How many languages do you speak? Portuguese, English & Spanish. I've studied German for 5 years now and I also took two semesters of French back in college, but with not much headway.

46. What was your coolest trip ever? To New York City.

46. Most beautiful city: São Paulo, all the way.

47. Sexual symbol: Benício Del Toro.

48. Where will you spend your next vacations? Vacations... What is that? Can anyone gimme the definition of this word???

49. What are the places you´d like to visit one day? Marroco (Marrakesh), Mexico (Montrrey), the Amazon (Manaus), and Thailand (the entire country).

50. Describe the person who sent you this: Marcele is an angel to me. She's a totally free-spirit. She's a one-of-a-kind young lady. Marcele's smart, sweet, friendly, a complete human being! I simply love her and the fact that she's my greatest friend of all times!

awh... those buttered slugs...

I've always said that humans are pathetic material. There is nothing more pathetic than an individual with diarrhea. All started two weeks ago. I still don't know what caused this 'malade'. I've probably gotten food poisoning - "I should've simmered those slugs longer", or maybe I've drunk something that made me sick -"There should be caution signs on bathroom walls saying that toilet water isn't drinkable - damn!"

I just know that I've been like that for the last two weeks. I can't eat anything because my body cannot hold anything. I feel like melting from inside... (10 minutes pause to rush to the ladies' room...) I'm back! Wow! That was stinky!!! Where was I??? Oh, yeah - diarrhea!

...And the most pathetic is the irregular schedule that this condition put us through. It's truly insane. I need to leave classrooms in the middle of lectures to take that watery crap... yew... But i am the one who's lecturing for God' s sake! That just turns the situation a lot more embarrassing. I'm just lucky enough not to have my family around for Christmas. I bet I'd have my bowels working while on the streets buying X-mas gifts. I also have my sleep disturbed three or four times during the night so that I don't soak my bed sheets with that caramel fudge... Uhmmm! I am feeling like having a sundae now. Damn again! I'm not supposed to have any sweet stuff because it can worsen my condition. How pathetic!

I've already...

Looking stupid or goofy in front of others is something so easy to me. I am a teacher so that explains why I get involved in embarassing situations quite often since we, teachers, are always needed to speak in public, be around the crowd, and try to get attention from so different folks. This way I can say that I am the queen of bloopers. Even way before I turned a teacher, I' ve always found myself in silly situations like tripping on the streets downtown, bumping into tables or chairs, getting physically sick and having to vomit in front of classmates... Gee, the list is endless...

• I've already sneezed while singing in a choir our national athem in a elementary school when i was seven. The worst had not been breaking the song in the middle of an important passage. The problem was having splashed a liter of this green and sticky catarrh straight to a girl's curly hair who was standing right in front of me; I could not hold my nostrils since we had our hands busy holding the songs lyrics;
• I've tripped and fallen countless times. The worst was falling and sliding my ass down the stairs of a church altar on the day of my first comunion. This time was not my fault since they'd required us to wear those stupid long garments that made us look like the pope. And I have also invented a new hobby - falling off from revolving chairs - it is necessary to get some fast spins a little before your body gets to collapse from that piece of furniture. I highly recommend this new passtime because it can really amuse people around you.
• I've already recited poems and sung in public... Ah, I may've forgotten to say that ducks and pelicans reach better tunes than I am able to. I've sung drunk in karaokes. I've sung non-drunk in small stages of conservatories and city theaters. I normally sing while driving - like to check out the faces of other drivers when they see me chanting -. I sing all the time while pissing in public washrooms, cooking, correcting tests, and lecturing all the time. I've already gone up a stage of a british pub in the USA with an elderly originally from Liverpool and we sang "TICKET TO RIDE". His wife even got to film and picture that rare scene of a boozed old british gentleman singing Beatles with a drunk Brazilian chick lost in Uncle Sam's land. It was exquisite, I must say.
• I've let a whole lasagna get burnt - I had simply forgotten it. The worst was to know that that lasagna was for an important dinner that my parents were going to serve at our place. I was not so young when that happened. Shameful. By the way, forgetting things is my best talent : I always pay for my grocery shopping but sometimes I forget to bring them home; I've already planned to barbecue and forgotten to get the beef. I've already gone to Blockbuster to return films without the DVDs, or to the bank to make a deposit without the money... it nevers ends...

PIZZA FRIDAY BLAST

Check out this photolog! It is Felipe's - my sweetest pupil. Blog readers, you will get to see a snapshot taken by me of a great ESL group of students from my school. I snapped that photo in the lounge two weeks ago. Pitty that many folks could not show up. "PIZZA FRIDAY" - that was the name of this cool day. We ended up having 12 different flavors of those. I even had pizzas leftover for the rest of that weekend. I'll post the pizza shots next time. What is the coolest thing is the card they're all holding. That is an ID-card from our school granted to them exclusively on that day which gave them a password to access our brand-new on-line English pronunciation laboratory. We were so having fun that day!!!

Paying homage to this beautiful lady:

This one is to you... ... ....

Marcele , you are a cute girl... "cute" is too shallow, you deserve greater and better word. You are simply gorgeous. Yeah, blog readers, she's gorgeous. She's astonishing in her outter and inner beauties. I love this young lady. I may be sounding like Sassy who wrote a post about her great friend Liza (or LiSa... dunno???) some weeks ago. I don't care if I seem to be imitating someone else's blog. In fact, Marcele has done it too. In her last post, she decided to write a few nice things about some weird folks - I was included in the list. Sure! Thanks, girl!!!!!!!!!!!

Marcele Aires Franceschini has been a great friend of mine for a long while. Our friendship grew during college years. Pitty that we live so far from one another. Although, the distance has never messed up with our connection. She's got this shiny aura, don't know exactly how to call, that sort of energy that glows on her from miles. She's a free-spirit pal who has the most powerful talent to develop and understand literature to its deepest surfaces. Her imaginative mind has inspired me a whole lot. I just can't believe she called me a "philosopher"... That was wildly great!!!

Like you did to me on your own blog, I also copied and pasted here a picture of you from ORKUT ...And not only that... I'll publish here my very first passage of a post in our mother language. That was my response to a topic in your community about the movie "Last Tango in Paris". The topic we were discussing was about those invisible "bridges" that connect souls, people's lives... You know, those crazy thoughts about syncronized experiences and encounters of fate. This bridge that has connected us is made of concrete and poetry!

Sometimes our lives' bridges get to cross!...

"...Sei que está falando de amor; mas terá que admitir que amizades são essenciais para uma vida equilibrada. Lembra Mar, que te conheci pela primeira vez, de verdade mesmo, lá no vestiba da UNESP no final de 1992 em Presidente Prudente???? Te conheci pela Patrícia, com quem tinha feito cursinho em Londrina naquele ano! E ela... a Patrícia, acabou morando comigo em 1993 em São Paulo, para fazermos o cursinho do colégio ETAPA no bairro São Joaquim da capital paulista. Lembro-me tão bem de ti naquele dia de prova... Também, com essa sua luz que irradia até em sala escura de revelação de filme fotográfico!?!?!?! Você estava com uma saia enorme, estilo indiana, e usava óculos redondos com lentes azuis quase metálicas. Quem diria que em 1994 nossas pontes se cruzariam nas salas de aula da Universidade Estdadual de Londrina????? Quase tive um ataque porque te reconheci, mas não tinha certeza... Mas... Sim... Era você!!!!!!!! Sabe que sua amizade preencheu em cheio o vazio que a Pat deixou comigo! Depois que saí de Sampa, nunca mais nos falamos. Exceto pela troca de algumas humildes cartas no começo daquele ano fatídico para mim: 1994... HEHEHE!!!!! SMILE BABE!!!!! I am already having a blast with these words... Te adoro pra caralho!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! "

Curiosity Fact: I can't agree more that I am f***ing weird. You are so RIGHT!!!!

Brill, Zest, and Fab

ADVERSARY

My rouser’s edge

Focusing on you

Dealing with you

Dealing with the adversity you bring

To me…

my loved ones,

my people,

my world…

Adversary

Source of all adversity

You are not my enemy

Without you

I could not relent

Without you

I could not grasp

My rouser’s edge

• By 'D.

...by my Pessoa

Fragile Little Sister

by Laila Chris

Little sister was never listened to. So she ran away. Went to a place where she thought good listeners would be there. Later on, finding out she was mistaken, little sister took a plane. Settled down in a distant land where no one would listen to her again, after all the local community did not even understand her mother tongue. Fragile little sister then decided to try once again, for the second time, to move away; so she packed, tied her hair all up, took a deep breath and jumped off of an airplane. The parachute luckily worked. Little sister landed on a deserted soil. This time she knew no one would listen to her because there there was not a trace of human existence. There, there were only her lungs. She yelled. Screamed to the top of her voice - no echoes whatsoever. She was again not being listened to... not even by herself... She then realized that running away in order to be listened to was not right. That was cowardness. Waste of time. She prayed to die. That was her only way-out, but nothing happened. In the end, little sister noticed that she wasn't being listened to because the others were in fact deaf. They would never listen to her even if they wanted to. God had made them deaf. God did NOT want her killed, so little sister cursed God. Since He could listen to her... since He was the only one who could listen to her... He made her deaf too!