Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!!!

Oops! Soon... but when?

make your own conspirancy theory... this is mine:

What They Don't Want You to Know

In order to understand that The Sims players are Gods-wannabe you need to realize that everything is controlled by a bunch of specific weird humans made up of The Sims characters with help from all kids that play The Sims.

The conspiracy first started during the technology revolution in all places on earth. They have been responsible for many events throughout history, including the advent of internet.

Today, members of the conspiracy are everywhere. They can be identified by typing staring at the keyboard or using only two finger tips.

They want to cut the remaining fingers that are NOT used for typing off of folks that are well-trained in the typing procedure and imprison resisters in school libraries using cable cars.

In order to prepare for this, we all must try self-destruction. Since the media is controlled by Carrot Top we should get our information from Bill McNeal.


Curiosity fact: Get your own theory here.

brazilian molotov

Today's TEACHER'S DAY in Brazil, deservedly I celebrate it...

www.moorecomics.com

Hooray for Oxygen

Thank God my sinusitis is completely over! It took me way long to be back on track. And because of that stupid illness, I lacked oxygen in the brain. And the lack of oxygen in my brain had caused me to run out of subject to develop interesting-to-read posts. Anyhow, I am better. I swear I wasn't planning to start this entry mentioning the latests on my health situation. However, I've procrastinated much long to type a few credible words here. Credible or not, for today, I'll write whatever comes to mind. And the first thing I have got to register on this humble blogspot is...

Excuse me... actually the second thing I have to say (coz the first thing was about my sinusitis) is that I've been teaching composition skills in Portuguese language for the very first time. These lessons have been more like a hobby than real lectures to me. Well, don't take me wrong. The comp. lectures have been pretty deep and informative. I just can't see them as being a drivel working task because I know many people do. I'm enjoyin' the lessons a whole lot and I bet my student is too. "Student? Don't you mean students?" Nope, I don't. I've decided to cut down on only a single student. I teach one at a time. That is why it feels more like tutoring than lecturing. Hey, it is tutoring period.

I've got a couple of reasons not to teach writing skills to groups:

a) Not many people are open to writing practices so, finding o-n-e student only, and especially THE ONE for those classes is already a victory;

b) I've really not advertised this writing course yet. It is too early for that. I haven't got enough time for individual teaching and besides, I definitely should gather more experience in that field;

My mind keeps telling me it'll be easier this way. I do not want to fail. I won't accept disappointing my student in case he feels no improvement through these lessons. I am working on his creativity motor and exercising style fundamentals. So far, I could not help noticing how difficult it is to write pre-determined topics and this task becomes even worse knowing that your words will be judged and analysed inch-by-inch. In order to avoid any blockage towards writing, I even recommended him to start out a blog.

Blogging is different. Writing free entries on blogs is a piece of cake, especially when the blog owner is not a demanding writer. I am not fussy at all. I write freely and I don't care about impressing others. I use this tool (blogger blogs) to motivate myself to the writing practice. Putting words together on a spot where you may not be read at all turns this process lighter. Blogging has helped me create concerns about style, supporting details, and even about cohesion. My posts are read and a few times understood by some readers and that fulfills me enough. I have a blast when I get to be clear with written words. I wish to promote on my student the same care and capacity for it.

Curiosity fact: The third and last thing I have to say is that from now on, I'll sign all my writings using my last name only.

C.S.S.

Love Brazilian accent when people try to speak some "sorta" good street English!
It's way N-I-C-E!!!

...a 16-year-old acquainted has committed suicide and that's what I've got to post.

"You call this... clarity? I don't think you have a clue what it's really like to communicate with these kids. You don't think that they can smell your bullshit from a mile away? Every day that goes by, we fail to inspire them... It's been another moment that we all lose. And we are losing them to apathy, and this is prescribed nonsense. They are slipping away through our hands." By Ms. Pomeroy in Donnie Darko

monster

Wonderful way to write without words

the World Wide Web isn't wwwhite
but the WWW does seem like KKK
it is like living in the DDR sometimes
It feels as though CIA is on our back
the WWW reveals our lives
as if they were played on MGM movies
it is the web of a poisonous arachnid
it recaps ballpoint pens and shuts people's mouth
"have you got MySpace? how come I'm not among your top-8?"
"what's your URL?"
"oh... forgimme for not asking your name"
"how dare you didn't add me on your MSN contact list?"
"heeey... you're pissing me off already...
So, do it so coz you'll see...
I'll block you, delete you, and send you viruses
that's my revenge in this Nazi Net"

...

Loved this!!!

Your Taste in Music:

Punk: High Influence 80's Alternative: Medium Influence 90's Alternative: Medium Influence 90's Rock: Medium Influence Alternative Rock: Medium Influence

How's Your Taste in Music?

it seems just like a spooky extension...

MY ROOTS, SO TO SPEAK, HAVE NEVER BEEN DEFINED FOR REAL.
WHERE DO I COME FROM?
WHAT ARE MY GENES MADE OF?
AM I GOING TO LAST LONG?
HAVE I GAINED GENETIC ILLNESSES THAT I AM ACTUALLY NOT AWARE OF?
DO I HAVE TO KILL PART OF ME SO THAT THE REST MAY LIVE IN PEACE?
JUST KNOW THAT I AM NOT AS HARD AS ROCK
I TRY TO BE GENTLE MOST OF THE TIMES
SOME SAY I AM PRETTY BUT IT'S ONLY ABOUT THE FACE
I'M NOT HANDICAPPED, TRUE
NOT A BLIND PERSON EITHER
HAVE GOT NO CROOKED TEETH AND AIN'T A DWARF AS WELL
I EVEN HAVE PROPER HEARING SKILLS
SPEAK LANGUAGES
AND I DO TRY TO MAKE MY LIVING DECENTLY
BUT I ALSO KNOW THAT I DON'T DRESS NEATLY AT ALL TIMES
I DO NOT MANICURE MY NAILS AND I DO THINK THAT BRAZILIAN BIKINI WAX IS PURE CHINESE TORTURE
I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF LIFE
DOES ANYONE KNOW? THEN, PLEASE CONTACT ME BY E-MAIL.
WHERE THE HELL AM I GOING AFTERWARDS?
DEATH: NOT SO MANY PEOPLE LIKE TO TALK ABOUT THIS
EVEN THOUGH IT IS THE MOST ANCIENT TOPIC.
DEATH IS MONSTROUSLY OLD AND NEW EACH DAY.
IT IS FASTER THAN HURRICANES AND GREATER THAN SUPERLATIVES.
RELIGIONS EXIST IN ORDER TO AGREE WITH DEATH.
IT IS SPOOKY TO SPECULATE ABOUT ITS EMPTINESS.
EVENTUALLY, IT IS A DISCOVERY.
DO I FEAR DEATH?
DEATH OF OTHERS, THAT'S FOR SURE.
I FEAR THE FACT THAT ALL THOSE WHOM I LOVE WON'T LIVE LONG.
MY OWN DEATH?
I HATE IT THOUGH.
I LOATHE THE FACT THAT I WON'T BE WRITING ANYMORE.
I DESPISE TO KNOW THAT I WON'T BE SEEING AND SEEN ANY LONGER
I EXECRATE THE IDEA THAT I WILL LOVE AND BE LOVED NO MORE
NO MORE DRUNKENNESS
FORGET WILD PARTIES
VAPORIZE ORGASMS
AND UNLEARN BUTTERFLIES IN THE STOMACH
WHAT IS THAT ALL FOR?
AND I WONDER WHY.

by Laila Chris

After a month of fighting Sinusitis... RELIEF

Have you ever had a cold or allergy attack that wouldn't go away? If so, there's a good chance you actually had sinusitis, like I've had. According to this site, experts estimate that millions of people are afflicted with sinusitis every year. That number may be pretty higher, since the symptoms of bacterial sinusitis frequently mimic those of colds or allergies, and many sufferers never seek a doctor (again, like me) for proper diagnosis and treatment with an antibiotic. I must confess that I did not see a physician for I was so sure that all I was having was a mere allergy or a light cold but it became worse and worse. Then, I got way worried. I figured my real condition through internet research and talking to lots of people who were going through the same stuff. As a result, I did self-medicate with antibiotics which I called "treatment" and that is really helping me get over this disease. However, I do agree that seeing a doctor is the best choice since only x-rays can show whether physical obstructions have taken place into the facial bones. As I had never had that kind of condition before, I could not tell at first the difference from having a terrible flu or if that was actually sinusitis until I started having acute headaches and a slimmy green nasal discharge (uhm... I can't wait to have pistachio ice cream.) The other symptoms were fatigue and irritability. I did not feel like working but I had to. I did not feel like talking but I had to. I did not feel like leaving my bed but I had no other choice. The worst was a non-stop coughing reaction. I sounded like an old seaman who smoked for 50 years and had rum for breakfast since his childhood. And don't get me started on the facial pain every time I had to cough or even breathe. That explains why I had been away from blogging too. Luckily, all these things are over thanks to antibiotics. The strongest symptoms are fading and soon I'll publish my "shoes meme" that Lori had tagged me and more. Lastly, I very much want that pistachio ice cream so bad - No Joke.

...

God Bless you, me and US

Watch this

Roberto was krafty with this snap!

...and the week could not start better!!!

Kids + Snow = What a fantastic combination!!!

I don't know why I came up with that:

It's up to me
It's up to us
Living only for the finest things.
Suffering for no reasons: NO MORE

Many times
They say what we should be like.
They tell us to be just like them.
They provide us a God, lifestyle, and fake wellness

Gotta do this
Gotta say that
Gotta behave like this
Gotta cut down on fat

Surprisingly,
Not many reject those forces.
In fact,
The majority respects them.
And it concludes: "What else could we do?"

Why can't they know what to do?
How is it possible to be that fool?
What about being exploited, used, and heisted?
Untie the knots of these damn leashes
Measure your days by the number of words you spit
See yourself through the eyes of the beholder and make them fit

Don't let those strange forces tell you what to buy, sell, or wear
Don't allow your ears listen to crap radio songs
Deny corporate media
Abolish corporate speak
Don't get me started on corporatewear
Prevent your brain with MTV-proof material as well

Most of my favorite writers has had insane mothers
Has Got alcohol issues and intense sexual lives
They've left plenty of legacy to be enjoyed
and it will not be taken for granted.
They had untied their knots way before they were even born

Follow your deep ID wills
Do NOT erase your past
Rewrite it on a golden covered book
Restore your old pictures
and rearrange all fossils

Run AWAY from demented thoughts
Scream to the top of your lungs
Sort out your desires
Fulfill your needs or procrastinate that as you please.

You are not bad
but you are not good either
You are just like me
But time keeps running out...

by Laila Chris

...

Monday or Tuesday

This is my first post after months (literally months) trying to write something substantial here. I had left my original blog URL and that has caused a sort of hard time for some readers to find me on the web. I've gone through a lot and that is pretty much what I can say about my days down here in Brazil. I'm way glad to have recovered my old posts. I'm pleased with my new template (Lori said good things about it too. "YAY!"). I'd rather publish daily posts from now on but I am still not able to do that because my teaching duties seem to never end. I've been working at a frantic pace, about 14 hours a day, and my head spins just like tops sometimes. I went through meds and I still take some food supplements just to cope with this crazy load of work. My responsibilities have doubled... no no no tripled now. The best thing is that I am NOT complaining. I'm just excusing myself since I have not written a word since two months ago. The excess of work does not bother me at all. It just leads me to a madness for not finding time to dedicate to my writings like I used to. Regardless, I always find time for some reading. I've copied and pasted one of my favorite on this very post. Here's a "short" by Virginia Wolf and I hope someone likes it. I'll be back folks... I'll post more... I'll say it all.

Monday or Tuesday
by Virginia Woolf (1882–1941)

LAZY and indifferent, shaking space easily from his wings, knowing his way, the heron passes over the church beneath the sky. White and distant, absorbed in itself, endlessly the sky covers and uncovers, moves and remains. A lake? Blot the shores of it out! A mountain? Oh, perfect—the sun gold on its slopes. Down that falls. Ferns then, or white feathers, for ever and ever——

Desiring truth, awaiting it, laboriously distilling a few words, for ever desiring—(a cry starts to the left, another to the right. Wheels strike divergently. Omnibuses conglomerate in conflict)—for ever desiring—(the clock asseverates with twelve distinct strokes that it is midday; light sheds gold scales; children swarm)—for ever desiring truth. Red is the dome; coins hang on the trees; smoke trails from the chimneys; bark, shout, cry “Iron for sale”—and truth?

Radiating to a point men’s feet and women’s feet, black or gold-encrusted—(This foggy weather—Sugar? No, thank you—The commonwealth of the future)—the firelight darting and making the room red, save for the black figures and their bright eyes, while outside a van discharges, Miss Thingummy drinks tea at her desk, and plate-glass preserves fur coats——

Flaunted, leaf-light, drifting at corners, blown across the wheels, silver-splashed, home or not home, gathered, scattered, squandered in separate scales, swept up, down, torn, sunk, assembled—and truth?

Now to recollect by the fireside on the white square of marble. From ivory depths words rising shed their blackness, blossom and penetrate. Fallen the book; in the flame, in the smoke, in the momentary sparks—or now voyaging, the marble square pendant, minarets beneath and the Indian seas, while space rushes blue and stars glint—truth? content with closeness?

Lazy and indifferent the heron returns; the sky veils her stars; then bares them.