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Saturday, November 24, 2012

Johmnee's Holiday Weekend

                                       ( Dedicated to Joao Arthur )


            Johmnee was a strong blue fun fish who lived all by himself in a quite comfortable but downsized tank. Since he was a loner, he didn´t need much space. He had been brought up to be by himself and take care of himself. In fact, he was trained to fight whenever another fish showed up that is the reason why he was separated from the rest of the world of sea fish. His whole breed was that way. He comes from the line of fish called Betta  Splendens  or better known  as Siamese Fighting Fish.
Photo by Meire Marion
Little Johmnee was owned by a small two-and-a-half-year-old boy named Johnny. When Johnny saw the Betta for the first time at the pet shop he turned to his dad at the speed of lightening, and said I want him, I want him.
His dad could not resist that little face that had lit up and clapped and spun around in the shop while he was non-stop saying those three words: I want him. So, he bought him.
When father and son arrived home with the new family member and introduced him to the mother, she turned to the little boy and asked him: what his name was. He smiled and said “Johmnee”.
Johnny took good care of Johmnee by feeding him once a day usually after dinner. Johmnee patiently waits for Johnny to finish his meal before he gets fed. When Johnny feeds Johmnee he always says the same thing: eat everything so you can grow up and be strong.
Many days went by when Johmnee saw the mom and dad talking and pointing at him. He could understand the little boy, but these two used words that he could not decode. But then they turned to Johnny and Johnny smiled and jumped up and down really happy, so it must have been good.
The next day, bright and early the father lifted Johmnee´s tank and off they went to an unknown place. He was placed on a soft surface but the object moved so much that some of his water spilled out.
Photo by Meire Marion
He wondered where they were heading. The only trip he had taken was from the petshop to the house and now there he was again going somewhere.
After an hour or so they arrived in a beautiful house where surrounded by trees, a swimming pool and lots and lots of bright sunshine. Johmnee was happy although the water in his tank was starting to get a bit warm.
Photo by Meire Marion
The mother put Johmnee´s tank down on a shelf at the entrance of the house on the inside and there he stayed for six days. There was much to do but he did get to watch the trees sway, see the birds fly by and also watch those other people he didn´t know walk by.
Photo by Meire Marion
Photo by Meire Marion

There were only two of them who noticed he was there when they walked by, little Johnny and Johnny´s Godmother. These two would walk by and say hello, good morning, good afternoon and good night sleep well when it was bedtime. The others went on with their busy lives and didn´t even notice he was there. It made Johmnee a bit sad. Also little Johnny didn´t play with him once so he was not able to perform his daily stunts, no one stopped to watch. At least they remembered to feed him, but still it was not at the same hour and it was always the father who did and not little Johnny.
When the six days were up he was put back into the vehicle and after a couple of hours he was placed in front of the TV and he knew he had arrived home and at last  would have little Johnny´s attention all to himself once again.
He could not understand why all these people wanted to go and do their daily chores in another place; why they had taken him with them if they simply ignored him. All he knew was that, for him, those were the loneliest six days ever.
Photo by Meire Marion
(Written: November 22, 2012 All the pictures were taken by me and the fish belongs to my Godchild - JA)
 copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

The boy who tried to cheat AGAIN



He hadn´t studied for the test again. He so much preferred to play on his Xbox and then a bit of chatting on Skype. All this technology nowadays was really distracting him and my, did he love all these gadgets. So for these reasons, he just decided that he wouldn´t study and he´d cheat on the test again.

He knew that the teacher was one of the toughest and he also understood that later on in his studies he would have big holes in his knowledge, however, he also couldn´t avoid not cheating. It made him feel good, strong and gave him a high, somewhat like the effect of a drug.

He sat in his usual spot between the two best students in the subject, the best students that belonged to his group of friends of course, not necessarily the best two of the entire class. He took out his pencil, pen and eraser and got ready for the test.

The teacher handed the tests out and asked everyone to count the number of pages to see whether the test was complete because sometimes the photocopy boy gets things mixed up and makes mistakes, who doesn´t. Therefore, this specific teacher always asked the students to check, unlike the language teacher who always ended up giving students the points needed to make up for these errors.

All the tests were ok so the teacher told them that they would have two classes to complete the test and that they should take their time and do their best. He also reminded them that if caught cheating, he´d take away the test and give the cheater a zero.

Cheater, it sounded so harsh but at the same time it triggered a feeling inside him that made him want to take that risk. Nonetheless, today he really had no choice for he had not studied a bit, nor had he paid attention during the classes. Not that he cared, he really didn´t because he knew that in the end his dad would come to school and threaten them, like he had done the previous years. Yeah his father was some hotshot who worked for the government who knew his son was a scum who eventually would end up being supported by his dad until the end of his days.  The boy really didn´t care. His father was loaded and he had already been told by his mom that he would inherit his dad´s place in the governmental office, lots of corruption there. If you think about it the boy couldn´t be to blame, he really didn´t have any good role models around him for him to know how to be any different.

He went back to his test. Panic struck. He really did not know a thing that was being asked. He looked at the teacher and this time the teacher was staring right at him. If he was caught cheating there would really be no way his dad could help him, he knew that much and for sure he would get a zero. He could sense that the teacher was exhilarating with this thought and he could tell that it would be a glorifying moment for the teacher if he were caught red handed.

He tried and tried but the teacher kept on looking at him. Sweat started to drip down his forehead. He was getting nervous. How was he going to cheat?

He tried covering his eyes by holding his head up by placing one hand on his forehead as if the sunlight were stinging his eyes and he were protecting them; that way the teacher wouldn´t know for sure where he was looking. But it didn’t work. The teacher walked over to the window and closed the curtain, there was actually sunlight coming in but not in his direction. He was sure that the teacher could tell he was up to something.

In the middle of the second class the first student who had finished was asked to go and call a sub to sit in for a few minutes while the teacher had to leave the classroom. Now was his chance.

Little did he know that while the sub was in the classroom the teacher was peeking into the room through a small window in the door. From where he was seated, he couldn´t notice. He looked at his friend´s test and copied a few of the answers. Well, at least he wouldn´t be getting a zero.

Suddenly the teacher called out his name.

He tried to make believe the teacher was crazy by saying that he felt bullied by the teacher, pressured by the school and that in every class the teachers thought that he cheated. The teachers at this school were horrible, they didn´t give a shit about the students and they didn´t know how to teach.

The teacher simply said “I just wanted to tell you that you dropped you eraser”.

What a loser he was. He had given away that he had been cheating after all.

(Written: November 22, 2012)

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 copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Sorry, but we are letting you go


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´We are going to let you go due to the fact that we can feel that you are dissatisfied at working here for us.´

Is this a good enough reason to fire a person who has worked their best and given a lot to an institution?  A person who has come up with a lot of brilliant and creative ideas to promote the institution´s name in the business world?  Does an excuse like this help the person to become a better worker at the next job opportunity? One thing for sure is that the institution does not need to lose sleep over these issues for a concrete reason , at least in their minds, was given and now they are rid of the person, who to them, is considered a burden or a threat.

Dissatisfaction can be defined as the failure to make content; which simply means to be unhappy about something.  However, is a person content all the time; truly happy all the time. Isn´t it more realistic to say that there are times when you are content and others when you are not?  After all, we are human beings and it not natural for a person to be happy 24/7.  Unless this person is on some kind of drug that lets you hear the birds chirping and feel the warmth of the sun even in your darkest hour.

We all know that the truth can hurt, but it can also help. If businesses were just straight forward in letting you know what you can improve to be a better employee anywhere, perhaps there would be more `satisfied` people in companies these days.

(Written November 14, 2012)
copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Monday, November 12, 2012

Welcome to Menopause


            So the gynecologist says “Welcome to Menopause" as if it were something to be celebrated, just like winning the lottery or hitting the jackpot at a Casino. Similar to when you are born and your mom’s gynecologist says “Welcome to the World”. Everyone is thrilled that the new born has arrived. It is now official, you have reached menopause.

Are you supposed to thank him? Now what does it mean to hear someone welcoming you to a new phase in your life? You have reached midlife, or supposedly, you are almost there and in your late forties. Then you ask what now?

The doctor says that if there are no symptoms there is nothing to be done. However, if the symptoms should appear intensely, then perhaps hormones are the way to go.

Hormones? Hold on now. You have heard so many stories about women who take hormones, but then again there are those who don’t or can’t.

So you ask what the symptoms are and the answer is: irregular menses, vasomotor instability (hot flashes and night sweats), atrophy of genitourinary tissue, increased stress, breast tenderness, vaginal dryness, forgetfulness, mood changes, and in certain cases osteoporosis and/or heart disease. Then he adds, however, these effects are related to the hormonal changes a woman’s body is going through, and they affect each woman to a different extent. Have you experienced any of these symptoms?

You recognize a few of them but then again you had thought that it was related to every day stress (mood changes, forgetfulness, and increased stress) and living in a hot tropical country (hot flashes and night sweats). You say yes and he asks how bad they are. Not so bad, nothing that one cannot tolerate.

You leave the doctor’s office with the clinging sensation of another rite of passage; a new phase, in which there will be something to look forward to. There will be new changes in life and  the body; along with new challenges.



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(Written November 12, 2012 – A Rite of passage for sure)

copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

In the Clouds


As she sat in her bedroom working on a paper for her midterm, she noticed as she looked out the window that the sky was changing and a performance was starting.

Photo by Meire Marion

The day had begun hot and sunny. Despite having to work on her paper, she was able to enjoy some of the nice weather at her parents’ house out in the country. However, she returned to the city earlier than usual.

She wrote some, read some and looked out the window. There seemed to be a fight going on between the heavy dark gray clouds and the lightweight fluffy white clouds. They seemed to be doing some kind of dance in order to take the others´ place. It was nice to watch although she knew what the outcome would be; who would win.
Photo by Meire Marion
Photo by Meire Marion
 In the end the dark gray clouds won and the fluffy white clouds disappeared. Suddenly, the dark gray clouds started crying. They enjoyed playing with the white clouds even though they knew they were stronger and always ended up taking over.
Photo by Meire Marion

Photo by Meire Marion






Photo by Meire Marion











Their Father watched from above. He enjoyed watching His children play and be merry. However, to see them cry of sadness also made Him said. Therefore, He sent them a beautiful rainbow. It was His way of reminding His children that they did not have to cry. He was looking after them and everything was going to be fine.
Photo by Meire Marion
Photo by Meire Marion

As soon as the gray clouds saw the rainbow, their mood changed. They continued crying, though, however, this time the tears were of joy. They were reminded that the Earth needed their tears and soon enough they´d be playing again with the white clouds. Deep down inside they knew that their Father would make everything alright.
Photo by Meire Marion
She took a deep breath at the sight of the rainbow and went back to her writing. She was very grateful to have witnessed she a glorious moment.


(Written November 11, 2012 – Pictures were all taken by me (using my cell phone camera) from my bedroom window in Sao Paulo, Brazil on this same day from 4pm to around 6 pm )

copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Amigo or Amiga?


          Living in the so-called Chinatown neighborhood of the city is quite interesting. As you walk around you hear people speaking Chinese, Japanese, Korean and Taiwanese. Let alone the Portuguese that we speak. There might even be other Asian languages that are spoken which I do not recognize. I have always thought that it was quite rude of people to speak a language other than the common one for the people living in the country, in this case Portuguese.

Portuguese is a real hard language to learn and speak accurately, in my opinion. I speak from experience. I learned Portuguese when I was sixteen and as I usually say: I am still in the language acquisition stage. English is my first language and I do not follow all the tips that I preach, I mean teach when it comes to learning a language.

Today I went into a neighborhood grocery store. Perhaps it can be called a little supermarket; you can find a lot of things there, not just food. It is owned by a Chinese family who can hardly speak Portuguese. They know a few words like obrigado (thank you) and oi (hi). They point to the cash register when they charge you and to order cold cuts which are sliced at the spot, you have to give them a show of fingers whether you want 200 grams or 300. Somehow everyone seems to communicate well enough to buy and sell.

Like I said, I went there today for some juice and mozzarella, 200 grams. The girl who attended me said Oi amiga. (Hi friend). I thought it was nice. She had added a new word to her line because before she would only say Oi. When she handed me my cheese she smiled and said Obrigada amiga. (Thank you friend)

When I was at the cash register she came to help with the sacking. There was an older woman ahead of me and the girl said Oi amiga to the older lady too. When she handed the shopping bag to the older lady she said Obrigada amiga. Tchau amiga. (Goodbye friend).

It made me wonder whether or not she could use the masculine for amiga, you see amiga is the feminine form of the word friend in Portuguese and the masculine is amigo. As there were no men around, I do not have the answer to this question.


I guess I will have to pay closer attention to see whether or not she knows how to use the feminine and masculine form of the word the next time I stop in to buy something.
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(Written November 5, 2012)

copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Hand in Hand until the End


They always walked around hand in hand. It was a tight hold depending on who was more insecure of what life was bringing forth. Their fingers would intertwine so well that even the sweat from all the heat did not leak. She liked coffee, he didn’t. He was rough and tough, she wasn’t. They were different, but there was one thing that made them seem so alike; their love for each other.

That Tuesday, they had met at the nearest coffee shop before heading on home for the night. She still had a course to attend and he didn’t want to go home to an empty house, not totally empty for there were the pets. The dog was his and the cat was hers. Meeting at the coffee shop was something they had added to their routine. It’s where they had first run into each other and fallen in love, for this reason, they agreed to make it a date every Tuesday afternoon for happy hour. She always ordered an espresso, him a hot chocolate.

 They walked into the coffee shop hand in hand and stayed that way talking about what had happened during the day. For some unexplainable reason, both of them held tight grips. What’s wrong? he asked. I’m not sure, she answered, and I have a funny feeling something odd is going to happen. Me too, he added.

All of a sudden she was hit. From nowhere a shot was heard, there was a scream, she fell over the table, looked at him and whispered, I love you and slowly closed her eyes. She was gone. They were still holding hands, but her grip was loose. There was blood. She had been shot.

He couldn’t believe nor understand what was going on. He must have been dreaming. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He didn’t want to let go of her hand, but at the same time he wanted to hold her in his arms and wake her up.  As hard as he tried, he couldn’t wake her up nor could her wake up from this nightmare. He would have to go home to the emptiness and loneliness.
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(Written November 4, 2012)
copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

The Mango


It had been sitting on the kitchen counter for over a week and if no one ate it soon, it would go bad. She had never liked mangoes that much when she was a little girl, in fact she didn’t like them at all. But somehow, in her 40s she acquired a liking to them. Perhaps, you needed to have an acquired taste for mangoes just like sushi. It’s not something that you fall in love with at first bite.

She walked in the kitchen, looked at the mango and then checked the cupboards. She looked and looked but nothing wet her taste buds. She picked up the mango and it was ripe enough to be eaten. She took a knife and peeled the juicy fruit. The smell took her back to good moments in her childhood when her sisters would devour this fruit and she could not understand what they saw in it.

As she bit into the fruit, the juice ran down her chin. She felt like a little two-year-old eating with so much pleasure, just needed a bib not to get her clothes dirty. It really didn’t matter at this moment, what mattered was that that ripe juicy mango was very satisfying and delicious.

With a smile on her face she cleaned up the mess she had made on the kitchen counter.

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(Written: November 3, 2012)

copyright ©2012 - Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion.