Strange pills

So much ado...

2011-07-24T15:35:00.005-03:00

... and yet I`m gonna talk about nothing.
A gruesome twin attack in Norway that shocked and saddened me much more than the death of a junkie singer; my working life turning upside down, bringing frustration and hope at the same time; the void left by stopping seeing some friends in my day-a-day; personal goals on the verge of being achieved - none of these have actually inspired me to produce a decent text.

I just wanted to write but there was too much ado to decide on what to say. I didn`t want to wax either philosophical or political, thus I decided to write about nothing. And here you are: a short post about nothing; the sheer writing for the sake of writing.

Maybe another day, when polemical and depressing topics become scarce, I might write about something useful. For the time being, nothing will do way much better.

Now, if you excuse myself, I`ll watch the South American Cup finals.

Rock and roll isn't dead, unfortunately.

2011-04-08T18:51:00.000-03:00

I remember being about 10, shamefully holding a Barbie doll - once I was too old for that - playing with my sister and a haven’t-seen-her-for-ages friend when the recently arrived MTV Brazil started to show Metallica’s Enter Sandman video clip. Much as I had always been keen on music, I had never really felt it, it had never really touched me. Well, as it was Metallica, touch is inaccurate. I had never felt a song rip my innocent young skin, get deep into my guts and make me want to spit them out in excitement.

     It was like the first sniff of coke – not that I’ve ever had it in my life – exciting, energetic, brutal. Of course after a short while I discovered that the Black Album was far from being as brutal as rock and roll could be, but to my pop-ballad-used ear it was a huge shock. The rough voice, the drums, the deep riffs, everything: I just knew it. I knew I should, I had to look for more. I was already addicted, and it had only been my first dose.
     From that moment on, thanks to some neighbors, friends and even my father, who convinced me Sepultura was one of the best bands ever (thanks, Dad! They are!), my heart has beat rhythmically, following Lars’ and Igor’s drums and Harris’s and Burton’s bass lines. I went further to any kind of rock that was at hand: classic, hard rock, heavy metal, death metal (even its name was aggressive!), punk, gothic rock, gothic metal. All that senseless teenage aggressiveness had a way out; it could finally get out of its den.
     Yet… It was not enough… It was too powerful a sensation to stay still in my bedroom just listening. There had to be more. There had to be a place, a moment, anything, to let all that energy explode and become a virus and spread itself and pulse and gain more strength and … there was. And I discovered it, again with Metallica, in the early ‘90s: a rock concert. There, me and my sister, two teenage girls, on the ground, standing shoulder to shoulder with long-haired tattooed fetid bruisers, ogres and trolls, who would pointlessly hit each other and look happy… That was it. That’s where we should have always been, where we should have been born.
     As time and concerts went by, getting as nearer to the stage as possible was the challenge. Elbowing our way through such peculiar and violent fauna was our biggest achievement and we would brag about it for ages. Well, we have been. Year after year, concert after concert, song after song, we lived happily, energetically, meaningfully.
     Eventually, of course, we grew older, but that addiction never grew weaker – it only grew more expensive. From that on, concerts only of the Monsters, of the Gods or of the Best. Too much money, too much age, too much adulthood to go.
     Good old habits die hard, though, and Ozzy Osbourne, the lord of darkness, the mad man, the bat biter, was announced to play in our city. That’s it, we’re going! On the ground, at the front, not even showering before going. Faded rock and roll tees and worn out sneakers on, let’s rock!
     That thrill, nonetheless, lasted till we got there. We were at a stone’s throw distance from the stage, but again – and this time unfortunately – it wasn’t enough. The trolls were gone, the ogres, vanished. Instead there was scent, high heel and party make-up. People looked healthy and neat and you could stretch yourself between them without even touching anyone. And if you would, they would apologize.
     Sepultura’s concert then started and to my utter surprise there wasn’t even a single fight, let alone a hitting-each-other-pointlessly group. Nothing. I tried hard not to care and started jumping, swearing and singing along with the band. That was when I was interrupted by a girl politely asking me to stop, for I was on a puddle and she was getting wet. What shocked me the most, however, was that she looked terrified when I politely asked her to fuck off. I could have been ripped into pieces if I had done that 15 years before. Well, she would have been ripped, actually.
     By the time Ozzy stepped in the stage, I was already in pieces, devastated, miserable. Rock and roll is not dead, as it has been said for ages. I wish it was dead. I wish it was six feet under. I wouldn’t be disappointed if that was the case. But those people – and they were actually people, civilized people – liked rock and roll, they were happy and they could even sing the songs. But they couldn’t rock. And I could understand: God (or the devil) gave rock and roll to all of us, but put it in the soul of a select few.

Oh sweet... nothing!

2011-02-09T22:41:00.005-02:00

So I am back, in a much better mood and still nuts about Top five lists.

I've been having a difficult week: too much work, low self steem brought by PMT, late nights and early mornings, some flirtation with insomnia...

Anyway, it's almost Thursday, which means almost Friday and the wild amount of work I had is tamed. Too good a perpective to be mourning for little things. 2 episodes, however, reminded an unpleasant Top 5 list:

Top 5 Worst Things That Can Happen To You When Your Self-Steem is Low Because Of Your Weight
1. Somebody stands up on the bus to allow you to sit because that gentil bastad thinks you're pregnant.
2. A man comes to you to give you the business card of a lose-weight-now-ask-me-how products shop. And adds he himself has lost 20kg in 6 months!
3. A passer-by whispers something about you being hot and chubby, in a vain attempt of making you feel desired.
4. Your mother points out how fat you look, even if you are only swollen as a result of suffering from PMT
5. The chair you are sitting on breaks down noisily and you collapse on the floor

After having experienced 2 out of these 5 situations in a 24h interval, the only thing I could do is go to the gym every day. Let's see what top 5 list THAT will generate...

Soundtrack: Oh, sweet nothing by Velvet Underground

I’m Wrong About Everything

2011-02-07T22:11:00.004-02:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah... Long time no read, I know. Loads of news, but since this is not my Dear diary, I'm not updating anybody about my life. Wanna know any news? Ask me. Period.

Actually, what has driven me to updating my blog was just PMT and my mother. And the fact that I am reading High Fidelity - a book that makes you want to go around creating Top 5 lists.

So, here goes the first, in a teenage tone.

TOP 5 MOST IRRITATING THINGS A MOTHER DOES:
==> Always having a nasty comment about your weight.
==> Always knowing the right moment to utter that: when your self-steem is at the lowest.
==> Always giving that I-told-you-so look when things go wrong - your diet included.
==> Always having something 'alternative' to take: juices with lettuce, homeopathy, good vibrations and crap like that.
==> Never complimenting in a clear way. When doing so, making sure it sounds like an offence.

There, I made my first High Fidelity list. I'm only half way through the book, hence there will be more lists. Hopefully made by a better mooded writer.

Cheers.

Soundtrack: the title of this post, by John Wesley Harding

Spending cold Winter days indoors writing...

2010-08-05T14:25:00.002-03:00

Back posting! In a some kind of vacation, which has given me the opportunity to do something I've always wanted to do: write an article about ESOL - for either practicing writing and reviewing teaching theory.
So, PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, fellow teachers, comment on the language AND on the content.
=D

What’s the drill for getting our students’ month around language?

As many other techniques in the ESOL area, drilling is a quite controversial one. Some teachers say it is pointless and boring whereas many say it is old-fashioned. However, a point has to be clear in our minds when planning a drilling exercise: What is our aim when making our students repeat ourselves?

What is drilling?

According to the Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary, a drill is “an activity which practises a particular skill and often involves repeating the same thing several times, especially a military exercise intended to train soldiers.” Well, now I am absolutely sure many teachers are frowning upon the idea of using a military technique in the classroom (although I also can spot some mean grins). Gently tucking the dictionary away, drilling as a teaching resource is to make the students repeat words or utterances for a given period of time.

It first appeared in the scenario of language teaching in the 60s as one of the central pillars of the audiolingualism approach. There, drilling was used to “promote mechanical habit-formation”* in order to develop accuracy on pronunciation and command of the structures. Those would end up leading to fluency. Cutting a long story short, supported by structural linguistics and fiercely attacked by Chomsky, this approach, thus the drilling technique, started falling from grace.

So, why drill?

In contrast to the aim of drilling in the audiolingualism approach, it is possible to face it as a tool to model and memorize the target language, as a way to fix pronunciation and as an important resource to get rid of fossilized mistakes. When repeating words or utterances, features like intonation, stress, linking sounds can be internalized.

Especially in lower levels, in which students have not acquired enough autonomy yet, drilling is useful to make them confident enough to use the new language in a less controlled moment of the lesson. By getting their mouths around, students might feel more comfortable before experimenting what they have just learned.

It is important to outline, though, that drilling is not, by all means, a tool for grammar or lexis internalization. First of all, because it is not a communicative exercise; it is the repetition of a model aiming the restrict practice of something new to the learners. Secondly, a teacher can only state her students have internalized the target language after seeing them using it different contexts and freer activities.

How can I drill?

There are some different drilling techniques. As far as practicing is concerned, choral and individual drilling are more efficient. Choral drilling consists in the teacher modeling and the group repeating in unison. At that moment, the teacher is able to listen for pronunciation/structure mistakes without exposing her students. Repeat it twice or more, depending on the response, correcting if necessary. To prevent students from dubbing in large groups, drill in groups of 3 or 4.

After having drilled in choral, it is less likely one of them make a mistake, thus the teacher can ask one or two students to repeat alone. If a mistake pops up, it is advisable to ask one or two students to repeat it properly and then come back to the one who has mispronounced. For example:

Teacher: vEgetables

Student 1: vEgetables

S2: vegetAbles

S3: vEgetables

S4: vEgetables

S2: vEgetables

It a way of not exposing the mistake and raise S2 awareness about his own mistake.

There are other ways of drilling like the substitution drilling, which is recommended for grammar and focus a little bit more on the structure. For example:

Teacher: Ski. I can ski. Play tennis. I can play tennis. Ski...

Student 1: I can ski

Teacher: play tennis

S 2: I can play tennis

Teacher: ride a bike

S3: I can ride a bike**

If you are drilling longer sentences, an alternative to not lose the pace of the sentence is drilling backwards. For example:

Teacher: a rug.

Students: a rug.

Teacher: a rug and a big TV.

Students: a rug and a big TV.

Teacher: there’s a rug and a big TV.

Students: there’s a rug and a big TV.

Teacher: In my living room there’s a rug and a big TV.

Students: In my living room there’s a rug and a big TV.

Again, it is crucial the teacher bear in mind why she is drilling for. The technique will be chosen according to the language being taught.

Conclusion

Drilling can be an useful technique to make students comfortable in the presence of a new language item. It helps to build their confidence by giving them an accurate model to follow and not exposing their mistakes.

What can hinder the learners in their effort to reproduce the language accurately is the improper moment of the lesson in which the drilling takes place. Repeating something meaninglessly will not help as much as a meaningful repetition. Drilling has to (I would say must) happen after the clarification of meaning, so it does not end up being a mere parroting, but an effective and far-from-being-old-fashioned way of practice.

References:

* Bowen, Tim. Teaching approaches: what is audiolingualism?

In onestopenglish.com

** Russel, Alex. Drilling - Judicious Use of Brute Force in the ESL Classroom.

In usingenglish.com

*** ESOL teaching skills taskbook. Unit 2 – Drilling techniques.

In languages.ac.nz

**** Kerr, Phillip. Minimal resources: drilling.

In onestopenglish.com

Connemara, Kylemore Abbey and The Cliffs of Moher

2010-07-04T16:35:00.000-03:00

Trying to spend as less time as I can at the internet house, so I`ll post only the photos as the comments.
See ya soon!

The Kylemore Abbey:

The lake in front of the Abbey

The Goth Cathedral of the Abbey

The abbey from the bottom

The abbey and the lake

The Cliffs of Moher

EXTREMELY windy!

still the Cliffs

A detail from the Cliffs

I'll try to post as much as I can!

First cities

2010-07-02T16:57:00.000-03:00

Well, here I am again, at the publand. I`ll try to be short, because I don't want to spend neither time or money online, once both can be converted in Guinness.

CLONMACNOISE and SHANNONBRIDGE

Clonmacnoise is the perfect example of the expression 'in the middle of nowhere'. It is a 7 km road sided by farms. What brings lots of people there is the ruins of a monastery from the X century.

the 'city'

the bed and breakfast we stayed in Clonmacnoise

the monastery ruins - breath-taking

closer...

the monastery cemetery ruins

Then, there is Shannobridge, at the end of the road which Irish like to call a city. It's not a 7 km road; it's a 3km street which shelters 3 pubs..

the other 'city'

the Shanon river and the bridge

the pub - 100 years standing.

Well, I have to go. Hope to post more photos soon!

R.I.P. Lobo

2010-05-28T16:11:00.008-03:00

It was 1998 and I was resting from my first end of semester rush at college. My mom called:

- A Husky puppy has followed me on the street. I think I'm bringing him home.
- But what about the cat? - I asked, worried about MY pet.
- I can't help, she said. It followed me to my friend's houses' door and it waited for me 'till I left! I'm bringing it home.

Ok, it was her choice. More than one hour later, mom came home. There wasn't any puppy with her. It was as big as a German Shepard and it was brought by the third taxi driver. None of the previous agreed on putting such a big dog in their cars.
- Ok, it's just a Husky, mom. Call him Lobo, as any other Husky, I said poshly

He was tired and weak from having spent such a long time on the streets and he couldn't even stand. We called the vet and made an appointment for the following day. At night I went up to him and try to stroke his head. He growled at me. I was scared and a thick wall was built between us.

I kind of liked him but I was a little afraid. Then I realized my cat didn't like him so I started to side with her. In addition, I felt a little jelous because my mother loved him so deeply but she only liked my pet.
Time went on. My cat died of cancer - poor thing. So difficult to put her to sleep...
Anyway, the days went by and I still couldn't feel comfortable with that dog. He was big, bold, roomy and lazy.

In 2000 my mother travelled for 2 moths. My sister had left home to live by herself some moths earlier, thus it was just me and him. For 2 long months. "I'll just feed him and give him fresh water. That's all.", I thought, forever bearing that first night growl in mind. And along came what I now name as "our second first night".

I had just left my mother at the airport and the house was mine. I had the brilliant idea of watching The Shinning. Alone. At home. At my BIG house. I was scared to death! I went up to my bedroom, resigning myself to a sleepless night. To my surprise, that dog, that big bold roomy and lazy dog climbed the stairs behind me and tucked himself in right beside my bed. That night I could sleep. Soundly. Like an angel.

After that I was free to love that brown furry big fellow as I'd always wanted to, but had been too pride to allow myself to do so.
Many years went on, with him bothering me so many times to walk him, embarassing me so often by popping in front of my neighbours' doors, annoying me by barking at every single dog that would pass by my house at 2 in the morning. On weekends, very early in the morning he would open my bedroom door, wake me up to walk him. Extremelly annoyed, I would turn the other side and come back to sleep only to wake up later and find my books all peed.
I remember bathing him on hot summer days as an excuse to have an outdoors shower myself. More than once he would escape from the leash to seek asylum under my mom's legs - completely wet and covered with soap.

Today Lobo is gone. Gone for good, after having escaped so many times to chase little lady dogs.
He is asleep forever, after so many nights sleeping by my side. Cancer has won again and has taken another pet away from me - this time the pet I would never forget. The big, bold, roomy and lazy lovely dog.

R.I.P., Lobo. May dog's heaven be full of books for you to pee on, comfy sofas for you to sleep on and little lady dog for you to chase. I'll deeply miss you.

Read me to sleep

2010-05-10T22:36:00.000-03:00

I started studying for the Cambridge language examinations in 1997. I enrolled for the CPE preparatory without the slightest idea of what it was. Obviously, I dropped it after 3 months. Last year I decided to go for something easier - CAE.
At the beggining I though it was as difficult as CPE. I almost gave up once more. However, few hour of studying per week has lead me to a brand new universe: the I-am-capable-of-doing-it universe. Consequently, I've become aware of what I would have to do to fill the language gap that has always bothered me: have fun with English. I have always loved listening to the news (don't ask me why... I just love it. Period.), so I've been insanely downloading the Global News Podcast in an almost daily basis from the BBC website.
Nonetheless, it's reading that's been making my days deliriously happier. I've been madly in love with it since I first joined two syllabes to make a meaninful word come to live. Therefore, I'm deeply immersed into cubic meters of a wide range of language, soaking up every single chunk presented to me by those who have been touched by sweet the hand of inspiration. And I'm about to be tucked in by one of them.
So, good-night, sweet readers and flights of angels read thee to thy rest.

Soundtrack: Asleep - The Smiths

It's been a hard day's night...

2010-02-22T21:27:00.001-03:00

... and I've been working since 7.30a.m. I've already had a rebel teen messing around in my class and crook wannabe but extremely good student trying not to learn English.
I got home at 8 at night, I've been planning classes since that and I still have 2 classes to go, CAE exam-like exercises do to, homework for the CPE course, writing included. Moreover, tomorrow I'll have been up for 2 hours at 9 am. And you know what? I am in a wonderful mood and deliriously happy. That's what assures me I deeply love what I do.
Go figure...

Literary and Medieval Dublin.

2010-01-27T07:32:00.003-02:00

Ok, go ahead and say it. I have been here for 2.5 weeks and I haven’t published a single post about Dublin. A crime I admit committing.

Despite being the capital of the Republic of Ireland (not part of the UK), Dublin is a quite small city, with 1,2 million of people, 10% of São Paulo’s population. However, it holds so much Art and History that it took me 7 days of endless walking to get to know half of it. And I am definitely sure I won’t be able to see everything. But, I think I have enough fluency of Dublin to talk about Literary and Medieval Dublin.

Birthplace of many of the greatest writers in English Literature, you can actually “meet” them and see their houses.

Wilde’s house

Oscar Wilde

Bram Stoker’s house

Me and James Joyce

Then you can see Medieval Dublin. Star with DVBLINIA, an interactive exhibition that recreates the Viking period. The statues are astonishing, due to their human-like form. Even an archeological excavation site has been recreated.

The ticket to DVBLINIA allows you to visit Christ Church, the oldest church in Dublin (and the oldest I’ve ever seen), which dates back to 1100. There you can visit the graves, where many politicians and famous people are buried. Moreover, you can check the Treasure – but no photos allowed.

Christ Church

Mummified cat and mouse, found while some repairs were being done.

End your Medieval tour in St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It’s not as beautiful as Christ Church, but it’s worth the visit.

Take another day to see the Dublin Castle, because the Medieval walking tour is exhausting, but you won’t regret doing it.

Cheers, mates! =)

Host family and friends

2010-01-26T07:12:00.000-02:00

Definitely, the best way to be in touch with a culture is staying with a host family. Not only because you can experience the day-a-day of a country, but also you might have cohabitants, who will add a different taste to your trip.

I’m having the opportunity to have a Japanese guy, Russian and French girls, 2 Korean people and a Belgian guy in my everyday life. I’ve also met people from Italy and France during coffee break or lunch time and, on the top of that, I have teachers from England and Scotland.

Yeap, it IS a lot of different things, but I think the pictures will speak for themselves. Enjoy! =)

Left to right: Reiji (Jap.), Irina (Russia), Edele (Irel. and host mother), Maureen (Irel. and MY host mother), Selène (France) and Soo-Jean (Korea). They were having caipirinha. I did it myself! u.u

Left to right: Reiji, Henrique (Brazil- classmate), Soo-Jean, Alex (Korean – classmate), me and Kevin (Belgium –classmate). Alex took us to a Korean restaurant. VEEEERY hot food. VEEERY hot.

On my birthday, we had a party here at my house and then went to a pub. Reiji bought the cake, my host mother bought the wine, and the girls and the mothers wrote me cards and bought me very nice gifts.

Next Thursday Irina, the Russian girl, will cook Russian pancakes for dinner. =D
The only sad thing is I’m leaving in two weeks and I’ll probably never see most of these people again. They have been making me feel at home away from home.

Miss you all!

Liverpool em dois dias

2010-01-18T07:04:00.011-02:00

Chegue o mais cedo possível a cidade, mas não antes das 9, pois NADA funciona antes das 10 da manhã – ao menos de final de semana. Após emocionar-se por estar no Aeroporto John Lennon (chorei, claro), pegue a linha de ônibus 500, pague absurdas 2,60 libras (porra de país caro essa Inglaterra!) que te deixará em Albert Docs. O lugar é lindo, frio e cheio de lojas (porra de país caro essa Inglaterra).

Aqui é onde a experiência começa:

THE BEATLES STORY ENTRANCE

E ela é emocionante. Dentre as salas da exibição, que cobre absolutamente toda a biografia da banda, elejo a réplica do estúdio da Abbey Road e a sala Imagine como as melhores.

Sim, chorei nas duas. Tá, na imagine não chorei, me acabei. A atendente da loja veio ver se estava todo ok. Mico. Ao final da exibição, vá ao Tourist Information Centre e agende a Magic Mistery Tour, que te levará de ônibus psicodélico a todos os pontos que importam da história dos Beatles. Eu preferi agendar para o segundo dia, pois assim teria tempo de conhecer a cidade antes.

De Albert Docs, após explorar bastante o lugar, os museus e as lojas, vá até a Anglican Cathedral. Linda, gigante, com um parque maravilhosamente mórbido ao lado, com lápides por todo o lado.

Depois disso, vá para o hotel. Fiquei em um hotel bem central, bastante justo, chamado Lord Nelson. Fácil de achar, em frente a estação central de trem de Liverpool e muito próximo de lugares como a Central Library e St George’s Hall. 55 libras a diária.

Check in feito, só há um lugar para ir: THE CAVERN CLUB. Maravilhoso. A balada lá começa 2 da tarde sem hora para acabar. Muito familiar, com gente de todo qto é lugar d mundo, de todas a idades com um único objetivo: ouvir música ao vivo. A entrada é baratíssima (algo barato nessa porra de país caro que é a Inglaterra), só 1 libra. E o pint lá dentor não sai por mais de 3 libras. Conclusão: conheci uma garota do Paraná, enchi a cara e nem sei como cheguei ao Hotel....

Domingo, após combater a ressaca, vá a Mersey Ferries, onde há mais Beatles Story para ver. Infelizmente não é permitido tirar foto. Após a Mersey Ferries, volte a Albert Docs para pegar o Magic Mistery Bus e emocione-se novamente.

In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs

On the corner is a banker with a motorcar

Behind the shelter in the middle of the roundabout

Strawberry fields forever

Dicas para os beatlemaniacos: junte grana e fique no Hard Day’s Night Hotel, que tem quartos para cada um dos integrantes da banda (aposto que a do Ringo é minúsculo) e traga muita grana, ou você passará vontade. Tem mto souvenir pela cidade toda.

Em resumo: Liverpool respira música. Em todo o lugar. Mas ela não se resume só a Beatles. A arquitetura é única e lindíssima e há muito que se ver entre uma Beatle tour e outra.

Próximo post em inglês de novo: Brazilian night with my host family and friends E Guiness Storehouse. \o/

Pub, finally!

2010-01-12T12:03:00.001-02:00

As incredible as it may soud, yesterday was my first visit to an Irish pub. Yeah, I know... too long, hun? Well, I surely had my compensation. 3 pints!
I started with a black beer (NOT Guiness), Smithwick's. As soon as I come back to the pub, I'll check it's name. It's very very light, a little bit similar to the Brazilian Xingu, but much stronger and bitter.

This is me, my pint and my friend's pint. =D

The we went on with another one, Blumer, that looked nice, but it tasted like Lambrusco - yes, that champaigned wine. I couldn't get though the pint... I hated it! It was fruity and sparkling!! EEEEEWWW!!

Well, after that deception, I HAD to have a pint of Guiness. I had already had a Guiness here. And it was good, of course. However, it was a canned one, not from the tap (I've learned it's draught beer - o famoso CHOPP). It was my frist draughted pint of Guiness and it IS going to soun obvious, but it was THE BEST GUINESS I'VE EVER TASTED. According to my pubmates, my eyes were brighting!
Now I have afternoon classes and then I'm going to another pub, to taste another beer and have another pint of Guiness before dinner.

See you soon!

Post escrito na primeira noite em Dublin

2010-01-11T08:04:00.001-02:00

A intenção inicial desse blog era ser todo em inglês, mas, como hoje quero compartilhar e não deixar as pessoas com preguiça de ler em inglês, haverá um post excepcional em português.

CHEGANDO ATÉ AQUI:

O embarque foi difícil em vários sentidos. Primeiro é dar tchau para pessoas sabendo que só as verei daqui a um mês. É, sou menininha e sentimental. Vão se foder.

O sengundo foram os vôos em si. O vôo de São Paulo atrasou 3h e meia, o que me fez perder minha conexão Londres – Dublin. Até aí todo certo, pois a British Airways (BA) refez a minha conexão para mais tarde, que foi cancelada – nevasca em Dublin e fechamento do aeroporto. Tudo bem, porque a BA me colocou em ooutro vôo. Que atrasou 3h também. Conclusão: era para eu ter chegado em Dublin ao meio-dia e cheguei às 6h da tarde. Passei a tarde toda presa no aeroporto de Heathrow. E esse é um subtítulo à parte.

HEATHROW:

Desembarquei no Terminal 5 e eu tinha que ir até o Terminal 1 para a conexão. Como fiz? Bem, peguei um trem (sim, dentro do aeroporto, na ala para passageiros já com check-in), andei duas estações, desci no Terminal 5 ainda, subi 3 lances de escada rolande, andei 10min. E peguei um ônibus (sim, dentro do aeroporto, na ala para passageiros já com check-in)que levou mais 10 min para chegar no Terminal 1. Pois é, isso é Heathrow. E o Duty free deles? Um Center Norte para cada Terminal. Sem exageros.

Terminei ne achando ruim toda essa espera, só para poder ficar passeando pelo Terminal 1!

CHEGANDO A DUBLIN:

Neve. Muita neve. Frio. Muito frio. A família? Bem, um casal digno de velhinhos irlandeses que me receberam com uma xícara de chá (que é muuuuuuuuito melhor que o café deles. E olha que eu gosto de café e detesto chá) uma garrafa de vinho, um aluno do japão que ficará hospedado aqui por um ano, afinal a casa tem 6 quartos e uma aluna russa que está hospedada na casa vizinha. E, claro, muita, mas muita conversa. Até meia-noite, que é agora, hora que eu escrevo esse post com essa vista aqui:

OBSERVAÇÕES INICIAIS:

-- Nunca tome café no Reino Unido.

-- Ingleses não tem nada de frios ou reservados. Todos foram bastante solícitos comigo, independente de serem funcionários do aeroporto ou não.

-- Irlandês não usa cortina na sala. TODA a casa tem uma janela do chão até o teto sem cortina ou com cortina aberta.

-- Irlandês come tudo em tamanho família.
-- Foda-se que é perigoso e frio: neve é a coisa mais linda que tem.

-- Queria MUITO estar olhando por essa janela acompanhada... (BICHA!! EU SEI! VÃO SE FODER!)

Mas agora acabou a mamata. Próximos posts em português. u.u

Mais fotos: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilacoimbra/sets/72157622704782281/

In the future, when all's well

2009-12-15T22:02:00.003-02:00

As incredible as it may sound, won't say a word about my trip. Yeah, I won't. This is about what I've achieved this year. I know I've mentioned before that I'm back teaching , yadda, yadda, yadda, but this is something more. It's about becoming (actually starting to become) the teacher I used to admire 2 or 3 years ago.
My first teacher training course made me aware of what kind of teacher I should be. The second - the fearsome CELTA - made me sure of what kind of teacher I would like to be. And now I'm making my way up there. And I'm overcoming challenges I wasn't able to overcome 2 years ago, - all just though my own personal effort.
I am totally aware of the long, long path I have ahead, but I'm finally proud of myself. That's priceless. Absolutely priceless.

Soundtrack: Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want — Smiths

How soon is now?

2009-12-01T17:39:00.008-02:00

Ok, that's it. It's time I started the traveler's diary. Actually it isn't, it's still too soon. However, my intention here is to seek relief for my anxiety* - so that's it, I'm writing!

For those who don't know what's happening, in about a month's time I'll be traveling overseas. The city I'm spending the month in is Dublin, where I'll study hard and drink heavily. Sure enough, I'm also planning one or two weekends off, since flying with Ryanair is extremely cheap.

The first city I'm visiting is Liverpool - and that's decided. Then there's either London or Edinburgh.
Although I can hear people screaming: "LONDON!", "ARE YOU INSANE?", "C'MON!", Edinburgh will probably be chosen, only because it's cheaper and smaller.
I do think a weekend is too little for London: Try imagining a tour around São Paulo starting on a Saturday morning and finishing on a Sunday night. What to do? How to choose where to go? See what I mean?

Anyway, everything will be decided (and posted here) right after I put my hands on my Italian passport, which will open UK doors for me. Meanwhile, I must finish correcting my student's final tests in order to start my vacation.

See ya!

Soundtrack: Salty Dogs, Flogging Molly

*I also need to practice my writing, so...

Touring, touring, it's never boring

2009-11-24T13:19:00.004-02:00

I wanted so badly to post something, but it's still too soon...

Hang in there, imaginary readers, for there is much to come! There will be Dublin, there will be Liverpool and there will be Edinburg - up to now. I just have to be cool enough to start posting at the right time - when I DO have something to say or show.

See you soon.

Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul Ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul.

2009-03-30T11:10:00.007-03:00

oooor...
"One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them."

Yep, there's a tribute to Tolkien on my ankle now.
The original drawing is here.
=D

Soap Invader from Mars

2009-03-02T16:46:00.017-03:00

He arrived on a hot sunny day, happy to finally meet the blue planet.

First thing he did was searching for some cows to abduct to his planet.

Then he made some fairy tales friends, ...

... and he rent a nice car to travel.

And he traveled! A lot!

Abroad, he made more new friends.

But he came back to see his 'special friend' again.

And took time to relax alone too, ...

... before going back with the smartest specie he could find on Earth.

Soudtrack: Ziggy Stardust, David Bowie

ET made with this.

I was looking for a job and then I've found the job

2009-02-18T22:08:00.010-03:00

I think getting fired is comparable with breaking up with a boy/girlfriend.

First of all, it's not something that just happens. There's always a prelude, you start feeling it's gonna happen, like that feeling you have when you feel stormy wind and see a blackened sky - even though you just realize the signals after it happens.
You have the intuition something is about to happen, but you just prefer to ignore that and go on with the routine.

Then there is the fatal moment of "Can we talk for a moment?" You get shrives down your spine, you heart becomes a mad woodpecker and it seems there's something between you and the reality that's making everything too real. You KNOW the content of this conversation you're about to have, but you just try to convince yourself that's something else.
It's the moment of the arguments, reasons, explanations. All in vain. You are given no options and you end up just wanting to never see the person (or persons, depending on the company) again. But along comes the bureaucracy.

In case of a breakup, you need to get your things back and there's always something left that will make you see the person again.
In case of getting fired - and that's all what this post is about - you need to come back to clean your desk, to leave you documents, to get your documents, then there's something wrong with one of them and you have to come back there. Once. Twice. For the third time. For the tormenting fourth time. (that's where I am now, I'm praying is the last one and it's leading me into a long and anxious insomnia).

A couple of days/weeks after you have that mixed bitter happy feeling of freedom, but your not quite sure if it's good or bad, and just in order to feel comfortable and secure again, you wish never to have got fired/dumped from the beginning, even if everything and everyone is telling it was the best thing that happened to you.

*A post titled by a The Smiths song has always to be - on principle - a mourning one. Sorry.

Here I go again on my own

2009-02-10T12:55:00.004-02:00

Ok, I couldn't post after more than 6 months without a bit of drama. A simple "I'm back" title would be boring and inexpressive: I really needed a tacky sentence form a tacky song that would be stuck in your head at least for the rest of the day.

Well, the point is I'm back. I'm back studying for teaching, I'm back teaching, I'm back to college for post graduation. The only thing that's not back is the idealization of a life inside an office from 9 to 6. I had the experience, I was even enjoying it, but it's just not enough for me.

Not being able to set my schedule, being forced to stay indoors even if I've produced enough for the day, having only one financial source...that's just not for me. I just don't fit, I think. I'm too lazy for that.

Anyway, I was kind of my option to come back. If I hadn't been fired, I would have been working though inertia. That shook me over. Let's just see if I've made the right choice this time. No drama, no regrets.

8 days a week

2008-06-02T17:00:00.003-03:00

I know Mondays aren't easy, but they're not the only day on which happiness choses to stay in bed.
What about Wednesdays? It's impossible to like it... There are no reasons at all to be happy on Wednesdays.
On Tuesdays, you're happy because Monday's over.
On Thursdays, you're happy because the next day's Friday.
On Fridays, we're in love.

But what's the reason to be happy on Mondays and Wednesdays?

It was a long time ago, longer now than it seems...

2008-05-19T21:03:00.004-03:00

Well, I think the last rock festival I went was in 1996, if I'm not wrong. I used to love festivals! All day long just seeing a hundred thousand bands playing, sometimes bands that you don't even care, but very important to the history of rock.
And last Saturday I just went back to that wonderful part of my teenage years:

Presenting 2 stages and no break metal on your head since 2 p.m., Maquinaria brought bands only reaaaally metal people like. The organization was perfect, even the bathrooms were clear and supplied with toilet paper! Incredible!
And it tough me some lessons:

1. Headbanging is for people who don't need to work in front of a computer on the day after. I'm writing this post under the effect of muscle relaxing pills, such pain I'm feeling.
2. Jumping for hours is for athletes, not for mere English professionals. I just can't climb a single stair.
3. Screaming imitating metal singers is only for those who don't care about their throat.
4. Old rockers with painted face on the stage talking about zombies, gulls, and monsters RULES!
5. Sepultura is the proof that noise can be technical.

And last but not least, a very important piece of advice:
- If you do like music, if its essential to your life, you just CAN'T die without seeing 2 "things" alive: a Philharmonic Orchestra and Sepultura. Both are more than just musicians playing, they are living organisms on the stage and they touch your guts with their music. In different ways, of course.

Nature's a language...

2008-05-12T09:33:00.002-03:00

Sad to see people killing every single language we speak.
Exposed in every single newsstand in São Paulo we can see a new magazine to help you learn English that brings a motivational sentence on its cover: Start Learn.

And ressussitating the ones we don't speak anymore.
http://www.vatican.va/latin/latin_index.html

Sound track: Blitzkrieg Bop, The Ramones

P.S.: I'll try to post more often...

Self awarness

2008-03-10T11:16:00.003-03:00

I've recently discovered that I can't use a cotton swab and brush my teeth at the same time. Uhn... Good to know.

Human stupidity

2008-02-08T17:21:00.000-02:00

At the office. Telephone rings.

Me(answering): Ilá.
The girl on the other side: Who's speaking?
Me: Ahn... Ilá...?
The girl on the other side: Oh, it's you I want to talk to.

¬¬

What's this?

2008-01-31T15:08:00.000-02:00

"I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red.
I am the one hiding under your stairs, fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair.
Everybody's waiting for the next surprise...
I am the clown with the tear-away face, here in a flash and gone without a trace.
Aren't you scared?" - said the Pre Menstrual Tension.

'Good Luck' and unemployment

2008-01-21T15:36:00.001-02:00

I'd never been unemployed agaist my will in my life until last December, when a shameful process of ass-kicking was started by the school I used to work. That would be ok, after all and according to a psychologist, this was an important step towards maturity*.

Actually, what upset me the most wasn't the demmission itself. It was the fact that, from the time I talked to the responsable for my demmission to the moment I was hired by a new company, the words I heard most were GOOD LUCK.

The woman who fired me: Good luck!
All the interviewers from all the companies I apllied: Good luck!
The man who hired me: Good luck!
The doorman from the new company: Good luck!

Well, in my disturbed point of view luck is something that's independent of any skill you may have. You need luck when you bet the lottery, when you participate in a contest to win a car or something. Getting a new job and doing well in it depend only and exclusively on your competence and skills. So WHY ON EARTH do I need LUCK to it?!

Soundtrack: New Life - Depeche Mode

*like hangover, psychologists have a ready-to-post text in my mind. I DO need to post both...

Happy New Year

2008-01-16T13:43:00.000-02:00

December, 31st, 1 p.m..

I was on the bus on the way to my friend's house, where our New Year's party took place. Then I saw a familiar face and I thought: "Oh, God.. Here comes an embarrassing situation..."

I've been teacher since 2000; I studied in a course where 820 people apply every year and few graduate; I've been going to different bars and meeting different people since I was 16. So the possibility of not remembering where I know the person from is extremely high... And that's what happens. Take a look at the dialog:

The girl: Heeeey!!! Hooooow aaaaare youuu!!!????
Me: hello...you? (trying to pretend that my surprised face was NOT a desperated one). How are you?
The girl: Fine, really fine! And you?
Me (thinking): She looks like a girl I'd met a month before and was going to Spain.
Me (speaking): How was your trip?
The girl: My trip?! How did.. Who do you...
Me(thinking): FUCK!!!
Me (speaking): Ohh, I'm sorry, I'm mistaking you by another friend of mine.. (genius... what a polite answer)
The girl: ...
Me: I'm sorry... You know.. at this time of the year, everyone's rushing... (oh, yeah... Perfect... Now she'll understand and forgive you)
The girl: ...
Me: So, what's new? (besides you being forgotten by a person that you enjoyed meeting out of the blue)
The girl: I've been to Italy. I came back last month. (incredible how a voice tone can change when a person is angry)
Me: Niiiiiice. See, you were traveling anyway (another genius one....) Did you go to study?
The girl: Well, here's my stop. Happy New Year...

Top of the evolution

2007-12-21T18:08:00.000-02:00

Merry Christmas.

From: http://www.explosm.net/comics/1119/

Here is London, giddy of London... Is it home of the drunks or what?*

2007-12-13T14:02:00.000-02:00

Going to London has been a dream from my gothic teenage years on (not that far away, once Morrissey is still an idol for me) and it's about to become true.
There are indeed some "ifs" on the way there, but since money is not among these "ifs", it's just a matter of 2 work-free weeks to go.

The nearest month to go is July, when I'll probably have vacation, but OF COURSE I'm already planning and dreaming.

I'm going there to study, but drinking is the main reason I'm so excited. And I've just discovered the number of pubs that there are near the tube...
Have a look: http://www.viewlondon.co.uk/pubs-bars-by-tube.aspx

Isn't it just perfect? God save London!

* Soundtrack: Hairdresser on fire - Morrissey

Just a question...

2007-12-06T11:07:00.000-02:00

How many months are there in December?!

Ok, another one: How many weeks are there in this week?

o.O

Remedies

2007-12-02T21:23:00.000-02:00

I'm a remedy freak. I just love them. Going to the drugstore is like going to the mall for me and I always leave there carrying more remedies than I actually need.

The explanation is quite simple: I'm in pain, I take a pill, I feel better.
Headache? Tylenol.
Backache? Too much physical exercise? Muscle relaxing.
Stomachache? Antacid.
Hangover*? Painkiller containing caffeine.

But my worse health problem is insomnia, a stressful consequence of anxiety. I've been living with it since my early years, and of course it gets worse from times to times according the moment I'm living.
Too many things to do on the other day is a synonym of a terrible night sleep . Problems unsolved, routine drastic changes or even lack of things to do, too.
Sometimes I just want to see the hours passing by as they just insist on staying still.

Anyway, I can picture myself till the end of the week going to the drugstore and buying anti allergic pills that make me sleep like a baby and, as a secondary effect, get me rid of the old persistent rhinitis.

Soundtrack: If you are feeling sinister, Belle and Sebastian:

"But if you are feeling sinister
Go off and see a minister
He'll try in vain to take away the pain of being a hopeless unbeliever"

* It deserves a special post which is written in my mind, but I've been too lazy/busy to post it.

Things that parents do.

2007-10-29T13:13:00.001-02:00

It's incredible the capacity all parents have to take for granted that you're doing something really stupid.

This weekend I was leaving my mother-in-law's house and my boyfriend was carrying his laundry in a very heavy backpack. We were going to the movies and afterwards to his house.
While we were getting in the car my in-law screamed: "Leave your bag in the trunk when going to the movies!!"
No. He's carrying it all around the mall. Why leaving it comfortably in the trunk? I bet he prefers to be uncomfortable.

Then, I remembered my mother. Every SINGLE time I'm getting out of her car she warns me: "Wait! There are cars coming. Wait for the red traffic light!"
No. I'm opening the door and throwing myself at the cars. I like the adrenaline.

Why do parents find so necessary to say the obvious and, the most important issue, why do they make it sound like the wisest piece of advice of our lives?

The more I hate people...

2007-10-24T15:51:00.001-02:00

... the more they try to speak to me.

I have a strategy that involves having (actually, it was a blessed gift from my boyfriend) an MP3 player in order to isolate myself from the world only because unknown human beings annoy me enough to make me wish them to be extinct.
But it doesn't work... Why on Earth one tries to talk to a person with headphones on?
I try to ignore them, although it's hard to pretend your not feeling someone pinching your arm to comment about the rain.

Anyway, I'm in a get-away-from-me-because-I-don't-like-to-talk-to-people-I-don't-know phase (ok, I've been there since my teenage years, it's just got worse) in which I just want to be alone, quiet, unaware of things and people around me and whose symptoms are my headphones and my few-friends face.
Can't it be respected, specially in a rainy grumpy day, after waking up at 6?

Soundtrack:: psycho killer, Talking Heads

Teaching

2007-10-19T11:20:00.000-02:00

Being an English teacher has never been an intention. It just happened.
I used to teach Portuguese and I quited the school I was working for. Then my former English teacher, who knew I was a teacher and a good speaker, called me invinting to substitute a teacher temporarily on Saturdays. I ended up teaching there for 5 years.

At the begining I thought it was the same as teaching Portuguese, but as the time went by I started feeling I was completlely wrong. I looked for courses for teachers, I recycled my ideas and got in conflict with that teacher that first invited me to be a teacher.
Few weeks ago I quited that school, not without being sad, but knowing it was the best for me and for them.

Since this confilct started I began to consider changing area and trying something like translation or text reviewing... I wasn`t sure if I wanted to teach English the rest of my life. I`m not a very fan of people and dealing with them every day is exhausting... Besides, working on Saturdays is something that takes your motivation away...

But there are thing that worth. For example, a student of mine couldn`t pass Basic 1, she wasn`t prepared at all to B2 and now she is my student again. She`s actually speaking... She does have a pronouciation problem and she still needs lots of extra exercises and help to follow the other students, but she going on...
Another one: my former students from the other school send every day scraps asking me to return.

I don`t know if I can change this for a ninve-to-five job in front of the computer....

I've finally done it

2007-10-18T20:12:00.000-02:00

Well, it's been a long time since my last blog. And this is my first in English. And my first alone.

I like blogs, but not as a confessionary or something like "Dear diary". I see them more as a place to write things you wouldn't write if you didn't have a blog. Got it?

Anyway. Here I am, practicing my writing, writing my thoughts, thinking about everything and doing nothing.
Enjoy!