Playing Video Games Helps Me Drive in São Paulo

Driving for some people can be a burden. Most of the times I wish I had a driver so I wouldn´t be overwhelmed and stressed out about driving in São Paulo. Lucky for me that as my niece and nephews were growing up and we took some time out to play auto racing video games, which is where I really learned how to drive. If you are good at these kinds of games, you can bet that you will be able to drive in São Paulo. As each day goes by, I am really starting to believe that most people in the city think that they are driving as if they are holding a video game console.

Some drivers do not respect the lanes and when the lanes have not been painted then all hell breaks loose.  There are people who forget to use their signal lights and when the newer the car, the worse it is. It seems like these cars come out of the auto factories without this accessory. Warning: use your signal lights! It is usually attached to the steering wheel and up means right turn, down means left turn and then the drive behind you does not have to guess which way you are turning. In the past they used to be called `directional signals´. You see to signal in which direction you are going.

I think I am going to start playing other games, something like Angry Birds. Wonder what that is going to teach me. Perhaps the sling shots will come in handy.

Written : November 30, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Google Images

SHOES SHOES SHOES

How many pairs of shoes do you own? How many pairs do you actually wear? Do you ever see yourself always reaching out for that same pair? You know the one pair that brings you good luck, the one that makes you feel self-confident; the one that you always wear to similar occasions like a job interview, a first date, an important event, is it just one pair or is there one for each and every situation mentioned?

Take a look in your closet and label your shoes. Separate them as those you always wear and those that are just sitting there taking up the space. I bet there are shoes that have never been worn and even have the price tag on them. Why are they in your closet? Why not give them away to someone who has no shoes to wear?

Buying shoes can be for some people a source of pleasure. The same pleasure that you can get from eating a delicious dish, or the feeling that you get after waking up from a pleasant dream.

There are people who have dozens of pairs in their closets that they do not have a life time to wear. Meaning, a pair of spiked heels can be worn for a period of ten years; the years when you are young and can balance on them. However, as you get age, you need to also change the style of shoes that you wear. Feet change and so does your body, not to mention the loss of balance.  Do you give them away after not being able to wear them? No, some people hold on to them as if they were trophies to show others that one day they were young and glamorous and were able to wear those spiked heel shoes.

Give up what is cluttering your closet and help others out. Remember that your trash can be other people´s treasures.

Written: November 30, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Google Images

Changes

Waking up at the same time to go to work and coming back at the same time every single day can be seen by some people as routine and discipline. However, doing the same thing for many years can also be seen by others as boredom and lifeless. The question nowadays is: Are we living or just surviving?

According to history, Man has been surviving ever since Man became Man. There are some people whom might disagree with what they are reading. However, the truth is that Man has always hunted and killed to survive.  These days we need to survive diseases, the air we breathe, the food we eat, the people who kill for pleasure or to steal, child abuse, bullies, unkindness and lack of affection and love; in addition to other things.

On the other hand, there are people who believe that they are living because they have imported cars, expensive watches, modern gadgets and money in the bank. These people summarize life into study, work and malls.

Radical as it may sound. Today we do not live. We survive.

Nonetheless, there is a shot at changing this. Don´t wait for a life changing event to make you wake up to reality. Life is given to be lived and not survived. When you open your eyes in the morning, be grateful for another day. Don´t look back, you´re not going that way. Live the moment and try to find love and happiness in small things.

Just a thought.

Written: October 8, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Google Images

He Died for Me

The other Sunday during the morning service at church, a visiting Pastor from Chicago gave a sermon about God´s covenant with us. The way he spoke as he told the story brought tears to my eyes and chills up my spine, especially the moment that he talked about the Crucifixion. All I thought of was, so much love in such a painful act and he did it for me.  In the Pastor´s words: “You know why He did not hop off the cross and save Himself, after all He was the son of God and He had performed so many miracles prior to that moment? It would only make sense for Him to come off of that cross and destroy all the people around. But no! He did not do that, simply because He saw your face in the future. He obeyed the covenant He had with The Father and died so that you and I could have eternal life.”

So much love.

So much care for others.

No selfishness.

In all of God´s greatness I am just a speck of sand, such a tiny speck that can be swallowed up by the mass of different paths in this life. So much love is shed onto me every day when I open my eyes and take in a breath of the new day with new opportunities to appreciate each moment and be grateful.

There are days when He is walking beside me and there are other days when He is carrying me in His loving arms.

How great Thou art!

How great Thou art!

Written: October 8, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Google Images

Sushi & Muffin

My days have become brighter since these two furry kittens walked into my life. A week before they were given to me, I had told my nephews that very soon I would adopt two cats, for it had been a whole year since Cookie had passed away. Although I did not have a clue as to when it would happen, I had chosen the names and the colors.

On a Monday night, a colleague of mine sent me a message with a picture attached to it saying that her daughter had found two small black kittens a male around two months old and a female around a month old. The male was very sweet. Along with the picture there was the question: Do you want them? I did not have much time to ponder. My heart jumped into my brain and I answered: Yes, both of them.

That night I couldn´t sleep. The next morning I would meet those two little creatures that would be sharing my home and which I would be responsible for. Although the colors were different from my original idea, actually only 50 %, I wanted a black one and a gray one, but I was getting two black cats.

I arrived at school real early and there they were waiting for me. On this day I only had two classes to teach, so taking them home meant just a couple of hours, still there was the question of where would they stay until the time I was able to leave?

We asked the guards at the gate if they could keep an eye on them. They were in a rabbit cage so it was not like they would be crawling all over the place. The guards agreed but after half an hour I was called and they told me they were going to keep them in the bike stalls because the tiny one wouldn´t stop meowing and it would get in the way of the classes that were going on in the classrooms near the entrance gate.

The meowing was driving me crazy. It was so loud that I could hear it from any spot in school. Finally, my classes ended and I drove them to the vet. After all, they had been abandoned and I wanted to make sure everything was alright. Besides I needed to leave them somewhere so I could go out and buy the necessary supplies to make them comfortable in their new home.

When I took them home, I kept them in the TV room. They were very tiny and a three-bedroom apartment can be quite adventurous and dangerous for such tiny curious creatures. As time went by, I started opening the doors to the other rooms for them to get used to, except the kitchen and my office. There are just too many things in those rooms for them to knock down. Yes, they knock everything down. I had to redecorate my apartment and get rid of plants and anything that could break and hurt them.

The first three months were filled with rough times; visits to the vet, medication, baths every week for fungus treatment, staying home with them to make them feel secure. When they recovered from all of this, it was time to have Muffin spayed.

They were used to going to the vet in the same carrier, so it was easy to get them in. On this day, however it was different, Muffin walked in first and I closed the door. He started to meow. Sushi stayed behind and meowed too. I cried. Muffin never meows. He likes to talk. (only cat lovers will understand). But on this day he hollered. I spent the whole day at home to calm Sushi because she was really stressing.

Same thing happened when it was Sushi´s turn a couple of months afterwards.

Sushi and Muffin are always together. Wherever one goes the other one follows along. I have seen some incredible scenes that only cat lovers will believe. I will tell you anyway because they are just so amazing.

One morning I saw Muffin sitting at the bathroom door. I looked at him and asked: Where is your sister? He looked at me and actually pointed up at Sushi who was on the bathroom sink. I was in awe. I tried it again, this time with a camera in my hand, but big fail. He is very smart. He looked at me as if he was saying that he had already answered.

Another time was one afternoon when Sushi was choking on something or was going to throw up. Muffin and I were in my bedroom while Sushi was in the hallway. He stopped, ran over to Sushi and started to pat her on the back as if to help her spit out whatever was bothering her.

Their favorite spot to rest is on top of me. But the only time both of them can get on top is when I am lying down. Muffin always needs to be closest to my face and if Sushi is there, he literally knocks her down and makes her move.

Sushi likes to play catch. She will bring a small ball to me and drop it on top of me while I am in bed. I throw the ball into the hall; she rushes to get it and brings it back. This can go on for a half hour. Then she gets tired and falls asleep. When this is happening, Muffin is just watching.

Muffin likes to drink running water. Whenever I am pouring water into their bowls, he hits it with his paw or tries to drink from the bottle. In fact, I had to by sturdy and heavy water bowls because he was knocking over all the light-weight ones.

When they sleep, most of the time they sleep hugging each other. What amazes me is that they sleep in the same position if they are apart. The heads turned to the same side. If one is lying on its back, so is the other one. It is actually an amazing sight. I have been getting some amazing pictures.

Today we celebrate seven months that they found me/ I found them. They were rescued just three days before a Friday 13, which is a day that people love to kill black cats to use in voodoo rituals ( now this is a whole story by itself ).

It is just so much love that has filled my home. I am truly grateful.

PS. Muffin has caramel eyes and Sushi has green eyes.

Written: October 10, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion ( MUFFIN)

Photo: Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion (SUSHI)

Immigrants

I am an immigrant, indirectly speaking. I was born in Brazil but my mother is from Portugal. My dad´s parents were Italian and Portuguese. And if we go back a bit further we will find ancestors from France and if we look way back even from an Asian country.

I am sure if everyone who is against immigrants reflected about it, they would come to the same conclusion: we are all immigrants except for the natives and even they could have migrated from other lands, so why all the commotion about immigrants nowadays?

If someone helped and accepted your ancestor in the past, why not help those who are coming to your country nowadays? I have read a lot of hateful remarks towards the issue. Stop being hateful towards others! Everyone has their own reasons for wanting to move and experience life elsewhere. We all live on this planet and we think that we are the owners, but I am going to tell you something which you may not know and is very important: we are not!

In my opinion, we are roommates sharing this beautiful planet. That’s what we are and not the owners of this blue ball. If we just learned to respect everyone and lend people a helping hand, I have a feeling that it would be a better place. I know you must be saying that I am a dreamer, as John Lennon once said and was, but the bottom line is that we are all the same and deserve the same opportunities.

I am going to share an episode that happened to me the other day in my neighborhood at the drugstore. My neighborhood is the place for the Haitians who are immigrating to Brazil nowadays. All around the neighborhood you see loads of Haitians speaking French, opening small businesses, hanging out together, walking around, and just enjoying life. Personally, I think they make the neighborhood a more beautiful place. Anyhow, I was at the drugstore and a woman had dropped something, I really did not see the object. A Haitian boy picked it up and in pigeon Portuguese and some French, tapped the lady on the shoulder and tried to return it. She screamed and instead of noticing what he was doing thought that he was trying to rip her off.  At the checkout line, she turned to me and said that she couldn´t wait to move out of the neighborhood because it was infested with “those kinds of people” (she pointed at the boy). I looked at her and wanted to tell her off, but calmly I said “Oh you mean helpful people, generous people, like the boy who returned what belonged to you? Hope you move away soon so more people like that young boy can move in.” She didn´t know what to say. Some people in line laughed and she felt embarrassed.

I do realize that there needs to be a certain control as to how many people should be in a place so that there will be equal wealth and health, however, if each one of us just helps those out around us, imagine how much better the whole world will be.

Written: October 7, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Google Images
The Biggest Concentration of Immigrants in Brazil

Not Being Able to Go Along

Mixed feelings are running in and out of this mind that overthinks, according to specialist in the area of the brain. But then again, the feeling can be tagged as guilt. Guilt- for not being able to accompany a group of students on their week field trip. Nonetheless, it is not as if it was a personal opinion not to go. It was a medical demand. Guilt, guilt go away come back another day!

By going with the students, there is a load of stress that goes along with the job: the responsibility that everyone comes back in one piece, safe and sound; the lack of sleep because these teens have a different schedule and need for sleep; the bathroom schedules due to personal limitations; the special food that has to be taken along also because of personal limitations or should they called handicaps?

By going with the students, all the laughs, the pictures, the stories, the experiences and informal situations that tend to bring people together or make them grow apart, nevertheless, important for evolution and self-development.

By not going, there will be a lack of integrating with the students and colleagues in moments outside the classroom and work place. Not to mention the fact that while all the other colleagues are working extra hours, you get the time off.  Guilt has come back into the mind. Or is it the heart?

Therefore, by not going, there should be less stress during these days. Should be, but it is not like that at all and the bottom line is the helplessness of not being control of one´s own life, body and mind.

Written: October 6, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Foto: Google Images

Lunch at the Food Court

Rice, beans, a mixed salad and a small piece of chicken breast on a white plate on a beige tray is what she put on the table in the middle of the food court. It wasn’t really in the middle of the court, but it was in a place where other eyes were watching. She sat down looked around and then looked at her plate to soak in all the vitamins in a long glance. She took her fork and knife in hand and started to enjoy the flavors on her plate.

She couldn’t help but notice this Asian man staring at her. Flattering as it may have seemed, she started to feel uncomfortable. Was she making heavenly faces as she placed each bite in her mouth? Did she spill any of the food on her blouse? Whatever it was, he was really making her uncomfortable, so she decided to stare back. It always works, they tend to look away. But he didn’t. He didn’t even take a bit of his meal.

Trying not to look up, she continued to enjoy her meal. She noticed a woman walk by her table and sit down in front of the Asian man. He smiled, stretched out his hand, she placed her hand in his and he said a prayer loud enough for the two of them to hear. However, as she watched this couple she read his lips and suddenly the reason he was staring at her fell into place.

When she had sat down and looked at her plate to soak in all the vitamins and nutrients, she also bowed her head and said a little prayer of thanks in the same language as the Asian man: English.

Written: August 27, 2015 Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Google Images 

Heads are going to Roll!

It was the same every year, new comers, applause and flowers; a welcome back breakfast to toast the new work year. Lots of hugs and kisses because after all we are in a tropical country and that is how we greet people here. The foreigners are intrigued by all this kindness and a bit startled too for in their culture you greet just with a hand shake.

Later on we are placed into an auditorium where we need to listen to the director for about an hour, talk about what was done the previous year and what will be done or needs to be done this year. Some people are happy, some frustrated and the new comers just smile although they do not understand a word that is being said of this new language that they are yet to learn.

After this day we are off to planning our classes and getting ready to receive our students in the few days ahead. Some people need to work more than others for they need to rearrange their classroom furniture and hand up pictures and posters and make the atmosphere more pleasant so as to make the little ones fall in with love their new place and most of all make them want to be there.

For most of us, it is just getting ourselves ready with notebooks and planning. Of course there is so much red tape that you end up doing most of the reports even after classes have begun. It takes a while getting used to all of this.

Deep down inside for some reason, I knew this year was going to be different. But it wasn´t a good different, just a different that gave me the chills.

A couple of months had gone by after the glorious breakfast, when one afternoon as we were enjoying some coffee in the teacher´s room. The director came in to make an announcement. He didn´t look happy. People started whispering to each other what it could be. As soon as he began his speech, he was interrupted by his secretary who was carrying a box. It was a simple box covered in red and white wrapping paper.

The director opened the box and turned pale. I thought he was going to pass out and was hoping some one would catch him. He turned around and threw up all over the floor. His secretary quickly helped him to a chair. The gym teacher went to the box and looked in it. He apparently had a stronger stomach. He saw there was a note. His trembling hands took the note and with a muffled voice he read it loud and clear.

`I am here to do what one must do. This was the first of many. Remove from the box and show it to the others so they can know what is in store for their future. I am among you.´

Some people started to panic. The gym teacher cut open the box and everyone saw the most horrific scene. It was the coordinators head on a silver platter.

After recovering from the shock, most people tried to run out of the room but the doors were locked. Some of the women fainted. Some of the men started to cry. The director regained his strength and asked everyone to calm down. Cell phones were out and no one could call the police. It was a bizarre situation. The signals were down.

I just sat around observing some people´s reactions. There were some people that started laughing, which could have meant hysteria, they were just nervous. But others I do not think that was the case. This particular coordinator was not appreciated by some. But in my mind, I decided to erase this thought. Despite the fact that he was not liked, no one would want to see his head on a silver platter.

A chill ran up my spine as I looked at one of the windows, a hand covered in blood holding a Swiss knife was slowly moving as if the murderer were waving. I knew who the hand belonged to. I had to tell the director who it was. But then again, it belonged to one of the most popular teachers. The director wouldn´t believe me and would think that I was just slandering. I was stuck.

There was a loud noise; people held their breaths and the sound was repeated. It seemed as if all the doors to the room were being locked from the outside. Then, there were screams.

(Written January 10, 2015 – This was based on a dream that I had.) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Google Images : Peter Hudspith

When Your Superhero Ages…

              My superhero: dad.

            He was born in 1940, here is Brazil. He always says that he was born under a banana tree where a midwife pulled him by his right arm, explaining why he cannot lift it and why it is crooked. I have never doubted this story; however, as I grow older, I start to wonder how much of it is true.

            He has fought many battles ever since we met, one of which was having to leave behind his beloved homeland and move the wife and two little girls to the US, and to work in a mill. He used to be a plumber before the move, but in the States he worked a night shift so he could take care of his little girls while the wife took the day shift. You might be wondering whether he got any sleep at all; he did. He slept while the little girls were off at school. Although nowadays I wonder how he did it. He must have had special powers when I was little.

            When I was twelve, another little girl came along. Poor dad, his dream of having a son was over. He did not mind, though. He treated all his daughters the same. He used to play with them and their toys- tea parties, dolls, theater plays and dances. He never hit any of them, but then again his words hurt. His speeches were something that stayed in your mind and hurt very much.

            He has special powers when it comes to giving you advice and he is in favor of cultural diversity. I never heard him complain when I was growing up of feeling sick, not having any money or being unhappy about something in his relationship with mom.

            He had a tough time with alcohol and also his epilepsy. Watching him when he was having an episode was very frightening in both situations. I remember that the first time I saw him have a seizure and got to know that he had epilepsy was on a trip to Canada. We had stopped somewhere near New Hampshire when my uncle didn´t let me get in the back seat of our car and I saw dad having an attack. It was scary and I thought that he was dying. I believe I was 11 at the time. My mom ended up driving until we reached my other uncle´s home in Canada and then dad sat down with me to explain what had happened. 

            The time that he was having a hard time with drinking was when I was around 25. I had just gotten divorced and moved back in with him and mom that was when I realized that things were pretty ugly and my hero lost his charm and magic. The hero that I had looked up to and loved so much had died and this impostor had taken over his body and was making me sad. As a matter of fact, I thought that I was the one to blame for this. I was the first in the family to get divorced and then thought that it embarrassed him. His Kryptonite?

            Perhaps the biggest issue was the mixture of the medication that he took for his disease and the alcohol. The effect was bombastic. I remember once when the phone rang in the middle of the night. It was the police saying that they found dad in his car on the highway. Dad was pretty lucky for his arm used to go numb and he knew that a seizure was going to take place. That night he had parked his car and had a seizure. The police picked him up because they thought he was drunk. However, on that day he had not drunk a single drop. After the seizure he didn´t know who he was or where he was and it took some time for him to get his bearings. Nonetheless, his breath had the smell of alcohol on it and the police simply thought he had been drinking and took him to the station. I had to pick him up. We had a huge row on the way back home. After this, it took some time to rebuild our relationship. As I said, he had died for me.

            Several years went by and he stopped drinking all together when he found out he had a heart problem. Slowly my hero started regaining his super powers. He has a special way of looking at the bright side of life, always thinking of the positive aspects of a situation. He is witty and funny.

            This month my dad will turn 75. He is in another situation in his life nowadays. Three months ago he stopped talking. His voice just vanished. With a lot of effort you can hear him. He is very sad about it and it seems like he has aged a lot. It seems that his left vocal cord has paralyzed, therefore not allowing him to speak loud and clear.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that he used to smoke. He smoked for 62 years and it has been 3 since he quit. Due to this, he does not qualify for a vocal cord surgery because he has emphysema and he would have a tough time breathing. Poor dad! He loves talking to people. It is sad to see him just sit there when inside he has so much to say. He is going to a speech therapist to help with this new bridge.

            Watching your super hero age is not pleasant.

(Written : August 11, 2015)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

My SUPERHERO : DAD
Photo: Joao Arthur   

    

           

Strange People

People are strange so the song goes. In many ways they are.

They hurt you when they do not need you and treat you nicely when they want something from you.

If you have something to give, they will take it from you.

If they do something wrong and get in trouble for it, they turn their back on you blaming you for whatever wrong doing THEY have done.

People are strange so the song goes.

If they see someone in need they walk away leaving the person to die.

Kindness is not something common nowadays and when someone is kind to another, it is reported on the news as if it were something out of this world.

People are strange so the song goes.

They can lay down their heads on their pillows while others are sleeping on the streets and have nothing to eat.

They shoot at other people just because their skin color is different.

They hurt others virtually just because of a different opinion. They choose their friends based on the clothes they wear.

They love you and leave you just like changing the clothes they wear.

People are strange and so the song goes.

They go out for dinner but instead of enjoying each other´s company, they are talking to someone on their smart phones.

They take drugs even though they know all the harm they can suffer from this action.

People are strange and so the song goes.

Then people think that I am strange when I say to stop the planet because I want to get off.

If you are wondering what song I am referring to, it is one of my all-time favorites, People are Strange by The Doors.

(Written: August 11, 2015)Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Google Images

4 A.M.

Today my kittens woke me up at four

For some reason I couldn´t sleep anymore.

After a few minutes of watching them play,

I sat up and started to pray.

Swish, swish the string ball rolled. 

Across the room it rolled.

Rise and shine!

 It´s a brand new day.

God give me strength to face what come, what may.

(Written August 8, 2015 at 4 am) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Photo: Meire Marion ( me and my kittens)

A Message from the Dead?

There are only two things that we are sure about in life: birth and death. We all know that one day we will pass on from this life to a better one (so I choose to believe). Therefore I think it is important that we prepare for it. Not only spiritually, emotional, but physically. What I mean here is that we should leave our life in order so that those who come to dispose of our material things can do it easily; after all, it will be painful enough for the person to do this, why not cut the red tape.

All right, so by now you must be thinking `why can´t she be a bit more clear in what she´s talking about? ´ I believe that we should leave all our passwords available for a family member to find and close bank accounts, use the money that is in the bank to pay for funeral fees, delete social media accounts and other things that need to be done after one has passed away.

For instance, the other day I was checking my Facebook account when all of a sudden I got a message from a friend who had passed away on April 1st. My first reaction was to drop my cell phone and say a little prayer. But then slowly I picked it up again to check the picture in the little circle that appeared at the bottom left-hand corner of the app. To my horror, it was a message from my deceased friend.

She had passed away on the first of April (April Fool´s Day) when I received the message; I thought it was a prank because she was always joking around. But then again, what a horrible prank it would be. Then when I got this message 2 months after the incident, all that sadness aroused and I thought: Could it have been a prank after all? Did someone make a mistake and in identifying the body? Instead of just reading the message, I started wondering what could have happened.

Actually it took me a few minutes to finally read what had been sent. In fact, it was a message from her sister letting me know what in fact had happened and how much I was loved.  Once again, I dropped my cell phone and said a little prayer. I guess that in reality I wanted the whole story to be a prank, but it wasn´t.

In the message the sister mentioned that it took all this time for her to find out what her sisters Facebook password was and that in the meantime she was going to continue using her sister´s account before starting one of her own. I thanked her for the message but I asked her to stop using her sister´s account. It just felt weird to see messages coming in through the inbox with her sister´s picture. There is just so much emotion connected to all a small circle with a picture in it.

So in preparation for my death, I have written a letter to my family where I written down all my account numbers and passwords to facilitate their job after I am gone.  I haven´t told them exactly where it is, just in case there is a break in , but at least they know that it is there.

( Written : June 8, 2015) Todos os direitos reservados a Meire Marion

Google Images