The number of coronavirus cases are increasing in Houston. I still receive emails from Bellaire and, today, the Mayor's office announced that public services will be limited. The Mayor of Houston has decided to publicly identify businesses that fail to observe the directions of Greg Abbott, the Governor of Texas.
I read an article about who had been getting sick in Houston and it is just so random, like one woman who had been socially distancing, but suspects she got ill at a family dinner. Several of the adults and children who attended became ill. The good thing is that Houston has the largest medical center in the world, so it can accommodate many people, but the metro area is nearly six million people and many of these people are not very obedient, so one can expect the medical resources to get very taxed.
I worry about my friends. Most of them are still self-isolating, so they should be OK; but some of them are really old and I wonder if I will see my nonagenarian friends alive. But the younger ones also worry me: I just saw a Facebook post of one who threw a birthday party for her son who turned 23 years old, inviting some of his friends. It's hard not to think if everyone will be OK.
We are at our most vulnerable now. Too many people are becoming defiant.
terça-feira, 30 de junho de 2020
segunda-feira, 29 de junho de 2020
Version 2.056
I went grocery shopping today. It had been a few weeks since I last went to
Kroger and one can tell that the overall demeanor of the people has changed yet
again. There are more people wearing masks and there is a palpable heaviness, as
if our spirit is slowly being broken. It is quite the opposite with myself: I
tend to be more optimistic and upbeat when everyone else is down.
This morning, I spent some time reading my diary, in particular some entries from 2016 and 2017. In between my need to rationalize everything and to carve out potential outcomes, I see some traces of depression. In particular, I had written about my keepers, the females in my head that act as my warning system when things are not well. They have not visited me in a long time.
One of them swims in a river and sometimes the river is calm, others turbulent. When I sense danger is when I imagine that she is drowning; she is always keeping an eye on the shore. Another one stands on a cliff and looks out toward the ocean. She represents my need for stability and equilibrium. Desperation comes to me as a broken down woman who screams and rolls herself on the floor, as if she is trying to escape her body. There is also a happy child, who is about 5 years old and when I see her, I feel the need to keep her safe. I suppose that all of this is the way that I have found to watch myself and make sure that my emotions are in check and do not threaten me. It is all part of my need to control everything.
Reading my journal I realized how good I am at sensing change and threats to the status quo. It is not exactly something that endears you to others, as one is perceived as overly pessimistic, but change is the only constant. You can fight it, but the energy you spend is wasted because you cannot avoid it. It is better to learn to adjust and try to eliminate the worst possible outcomes.
domingo, 28 de junho de 2020
Version 2.055
I finished my taxes today. I am super-happy to finally get it done, although every year I promise myself that I will not procrastinate next time. Yet, I always do. I did a few simulations and it seems like I should receive quite a nice refund from federal, about $5000, which would be a really nice vacation, were it not for the fact that we should just stay put for a while.
Other than that, not much is going on. I still have some peaches from Georgia that I need to cook. I think I will try to make a gluten-free cobbler, but I need to go and buy some eggs. Maybe it would be a good idea to also get some ice-cream to go with the peaches.
Other than that, not much is going on. I still have some peaches from Georgia that I need to cook. I think I will try to make a gluten-free cobbler, but I need to go and buy some eggs. Maybe it would be a good idea to also get some ice-cream to go with the peaches.
sábado, 27 de junho de 2020
Version 2.054
I had my second counseling session today, so I took the afternoon off, since I did not know how I would feel emotionally. My homework is to go over cognitive biases and see how my thought processes might relate to those. We all have cognitive biases, but, in my line of work, I have to spend 40 hours a week doubting myself to make sure that I have done my job to the best of my ability. Some people's jobs entail building; my job is about building and destroying, until I cannot think of any other way of continuing the cycle within the allotted time frame. And perhaps because I spend a third of my life living it in such a duality, I like to keep the other third that I am awake easy, which is not how most other people operate.
After my session, I went over to my neighbor's to show her a pair of shoes that I had just bought, since I could not decide whether I wanted to keep them or not. I thought the size and the scale of the shoes were good and they were also not uncomfortable, but one wonders what is the point of buying shoes with a pandemic going on? One wears shoes, regardless of the viruses that live around us. So I am keeping the shoes.
My neighbor's mom agreed that I should keep them. We then lingered in her bedroom while she rested in bed. She struggled with getting comfortable and her facial features contorted in pain, but she did not want to eat and she drank very little fluids. It seems clear that she was in pain because she was literally starving herself. Three times she asked me how she ended up like that -- she thinks she is in a hospital or a nursing home. She does not remember that she is home.
The last time I was in St. Louis I almost died of food poisoning. I had gone to a conference for work and during the drive over there I started to not feel well. I managed to go to dinner with Henry, my coworker, but at some point I began to deteriorate and told him that I did not feel good. He drove me back to the hotel and I got into the elevator and proceeded to throw up on the trip up to my room. Then I had to come back downstairs and tell the front desk what I had done, which made me feel terribly guilty, despite the kindness of the staff. I returned to my room and went to bed. For two days, I threw up and slept and I could not even hold down water.
At some point, I looked out the window and saw the Arch of St. Louis. What a great view, I thought, and I may not make it out of here alive. In hindsight, I should have gone to the hospital, but thinking about it was too difficult, so I just stayed there. Things started to improve when I decided to add packets of sugar to the water. If the water was sweet, I could drink it and not throw up. Funny enough, the street where I lived back then was called that: Sweetwater Way.
After drinking sweet water, I graduated to eating fruit and that is often the food that gives me comfort when I am not feeling like eating. I asked my neighbor's mom if she wanted a fruit smoothie, but she declined. Then my neighbor thought of making a protein shake and her mom actually took a few sips. Her demeanor improved so much that I told her we needed to get her to eat some fried butter, like they do at the Texas State Fair. She looked at me as if I had fallen from the moon and then smiled when she realized I was joking. That was the highlight of my day. It wasn't exactly a joke; I was actually thinking about alternative ways in which to maximize her calorie intake. When I left I told my neighbor that tomorrow's breakfast should be that protein milkshake. We shall see how the day goes...
After my session, I went over to my neighbor's to show her a pair of shoes that I had just bought, since I could not decide whether I wanted to keep them or not. I thought the size and the scale of the shoes were good and they were also not uncomfortable, but one wonders what is the point of buying shoes with a pandemic going on? One wears shoes, regardless of the viruses that live around us. So I am keeping the shoes.
My neighbor's mom agreed that I should keep them. We then lingered in her bedroom while she rested in bed. She struggled with getting comfortable and her facial features contorted in pain, but she did not want to eat and she drank very little fluids. It seems clear that she was in pain because she was literally starving herself. Three times she asked me how she ended up like that -- she thinks she is in a hospital or a nursing home. She does not remember that she is home.
The last time I was in St. Louis I almost died of food poisoning. I had gone to a conference for work and during the drive over there I started to not feel well. I managed to go to dinner with Henry, my coworker, but at some point I began to deteriorate and told him that I did not feel good. He drove me back to the hotel and I got into the elevator and proceeded to throw up on the trip up to my room. Then I had to come back downstairs and tell the front desk what I had done, which made me feel terribly guilty, despite the kindness of the staff. I returned to my room and went to bed. For two days, I threw up and slept and I could not even hold down water.
At some point, I looked out the window and saw the Arch of St. Louis. What a great view, I thought, and I may not make it out of here alive. In hindsight, I should have gone to the hospital, but thinking about it was too difficult, so I just stayed there. Things started to improve when I decided to add packets of sugar to the water. If the water was sweet, I could drink it and not throw up. Funny enough, the street where I lived back then was called that: Sweetwater Way.
After drinking sweet water, I graduated to eating fruit and that is often the food that gives me comfort when I am not feeling like eating. I asked my neighbor's mom if she wanted a fruit smoothie, but she declined. Then my neighbor thought of making a protein shake and her mom actually took a few sips. Her demeanor improved so much that I told her we needed to get her to eat some fried butter, like they do at the Texas State Fair. She looked at me as if I had fallen from the moon and then smiled when she realized I was joking. That was the highlight of my day. It wasn't exactly a joke; I was actually thinking about alternative ways in which to maximize her calorie intake. When I left I told my neighbor that tomorrow's breakfast should be that protein milkshake. We shall see how the day goes...
sexta-feira, 26 de junho de 2020
Version 2.053
Early on in the pandemic, just because I am a sucker for bad news, I looked at the data for the 1918 pandemic just to check the death toll and how it unfolded over time. The second wave was the deadliest. I wondered how people died more the second time around, but back then information was not as ubiquitous and science was pretty behind. I suppose I was trying to convince myself that this times people would be more careful, things would not get out of hand.
Yesterday, I was talking to a coworker who told me that he felt the virus was getting closer. His best friend and respective wife have it. They are probably in their early 40s and have two children, the oldest one 15. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. I could order food for them, for example, but he replied that they did not want help.
My massage for tomorrow got cancelled. One of the previous clients got sick a few days after his massage, so he got tested, but the results are not out yet. It does feel like it's closing in on us.
Yesterday, I was talking to a coworker who told me that he felt the virus was getting closer. His best friend and respective wife have it. They are probably in their early 40s and have two children, the oldest one 15. I asked if there was anything I could do to help. I could order food for them, for example, but he replied that they did not want help.
My massage for tomorrow got cancelled. One of the previous clients got sick a few days after his massage, so he got tested, but the results are not out yet. It does feel like it's closing in on us.
quinta-feira, 25 de junho de 2020
Version 2.052
Yesterday, I went to the dentist. At the door, there was a sign asking us to call in to get instructions before entering. Janet, the receptionist, asked so many questions that I distinctly felt that I lived in the Inquisition: did I travel in the last 14 days, did I have any symptoms, had I been next to anyone who is positive for the virus, and on and on... Upon entering, I had to sign a waiver in case I became infected in their office.
I don't know, but at this point it almost feels like we are living in the Old Testament. It's not just the pandemic, it's the sand storm coming all the way from the Sahara desert, the locusts plagues in India and Pakistan, etc. It all seems so contrived to be real. At least, I did not have a cavity, just a stain in my tooth, probably from one of my retainers, which has a metal piece that touches that particular tooth. I could't believe it. Surely there had to be something wrong. The whole world is falling into pieces, so why would I not have a cavity.
Work has been extremely busy. Every time I feel like I have carved some room to breath, a new challenge comes up. I relish challenges, but it also wears me out. I cannot even comprehend how people survived before society opted for a 40-hour work week. Yes, I understand that work used to be less brainy and more physical, but even still, the thought of doing repetitive manual labor is enough to send me into a depression spin. Or maybe it's not as bad as I imagine.
I was so beat up after work today that I texted my neighbor to tell her I was ready for a break and she kindly invited me to go over to her place. She offered me a glass of wine and fed me dinner. We chatted for a bit, while her husband watched Jimmy Buffet on TV. Then she broke down, crying. Here is this lovely woman, who is always laughing and trying to be cheery all the time, sobbing. Her mother has just turned 86 and has dementia and last night called 911 to ask to be rescued. The call got transferred to the fire department who almost came, were it not for the fact that my neighbor got up just in time to let them know that her mother was OK, she has dementia.
Her mother is not OK. Every day, she becomes frailer. It's not just that her mind is not working, she also does not want to eat. It's like her body is trying to die, but the organs do not fail, so it stopped wanting food or even water. When I visit, I try to cheer her up. I ask her if she's on a diet for bikini season or if she'd rather have a glass of wine instead of water. She just giggles and sometimes complains because she shakes so much due to Parkinson's, so I tell her that's really good. If she starts rattling and rolling, she'll be all set, like the song goes.
I tell my neighbor that she needs to make peace with the situation. We are at a point where we cannot make improvements; all we do is manage the end and try to provide some comfort. But every day is like the last: we get up, we eat, we drink, we stay alive. Why would any one day be the last literally? What makes the day we die so special that it has to happen?
For me, it is easy to see the end approaching because I am on the outside, but if I were in her shoes, I'd be wracking my brain just like she is trying to figure out what else could be done. Yes, it is futile, but every single day that we live is futile; there is nothing special about any one of us being alive at any particular time. What makes it special is our own belief.
This morning, I was standing in front of the window when a hummingbird flew by. I had not seen one this year yet. I don't recall the last time I felt this guilty all because it had been months since I had changed the hummingbird nectar in the feeders. So many days I thought about doing it and I procrastinated until today. I thought that hummingbird was special.
I don't know, but at this point it almost feels like we are living in the Old Testament. It's not just the pandemic, it's the sand storm coming all the way from the Sahara desert, the locusts plagues in India and Pakistan, etc. It all seems so contrived to be real. At least, I did not have a cavity, just a stain in my tooth, probably from one of my retainers, which has a metal piece that touches that particular tooth. I could't believe it. Surely there had to be something wrong. The whole world is falling into pieces, so why would I not have a cavity.
Work has been extremely busy. Every time I feel like I have carved some room to breath, a new challenge comes up. I relish challenges, but it also wears me out. I cannot even comprehend how people survived before society opted for a 40-hour work week. Yes, I understand that work used to be less brainy and more physical, but even still, the thought of doing repetitive manual labor is enough to send me into a depression spin. Or maybe it's not as bad as I imagine.
I was so beat up after work today that I texted my neighbor to tell her I was ready for a break and she kindly invited me to go over to her place. She offered me a glass of wine and fed me dinner. We chatted for a bit, while her husband watched Jimmy Buffet on TV. Then she broke down, crying. Here is this lovely woman, who is always laughing and trying to be cheery all the time, sobbing. Her mother has just turned 86 and has dementia and last night called 911 to ask to be rescued. The call got transferred to the fire department who almost came, were it not for the fact that my neighbor got up just in time to let them know that her mother was OK, she has dementia.
Her mother is not OK. Every day, she becomes frailer. It's not just that her mind is not working, she also does not want to eat. It's like her body is trying to die, but the organs do not fail, so it stopped wanting food or even water. When I visit, I try to cheer her up. I ask her if she's on a diet for bikini season or if she'd rather have a glass of wine instead of water. She just giggles and sometimes complains because she shakes so much due to Parkinson's, so I tell her that's really good. If she starts rattling and rolling, she'll be all set, like the song goes.
I tell my neighbor that she needs to make peace with the situation. We are at a point where we cannot make improvements; all we do is manage the end and try to provide some comfort. But every day is like the last: we get up, we eat, we drink, we stay alive. Why would any one day be the last literally? What makes the day we die so special that it has to happen?
For me, it is easy to see the end approaching because I am on the outside, but if I were in her shoes, I'd be wracking my brain just like she is trying to figure out what else could be done. Yes, it is futile, but every single day that we live is futile; there is nothing special about any one of us being alive at any particular time. What makes it special is our own belief.
This morning, I was standing in front of the window when a hummingbird flew by. I had not seen one this year yet. I don't recall the last time I felt this guilty all because it had been months since I had changed the hummingbird nectar in the feeders. So many days I thought about doing it and I procrastinated until today. I thought that hummingbird was special.
quarta-feira, 24 de junho de 2020
Version 2.051
When my ex-husband was getting an undergrad in business, one day he got home all excited because his accounting professor had gone over some techniques on how to spot data manipulation. That was the first accounting class he'd ever taken and someone thought it worthy to add that to the curriculum. I, on the other hand, had taken numerous accounting classes in Portugal, both in high school and college, and did not recall ever talking about data manipulation. The shadiest topic we ever covered was "confidential expenses" and the so-called blue bag.
The first thing one does when analyzing data is evaluating how reliable the data are. How was it collected, what biases might it have, what limitations does it have and how do those shape our conclusions. Then, if there is information on more than one variable, does it all make sense together -- do things pass the smell test, as one of my former bosses used to say.
I am thinking about these issues because it was obvious that the pandemic data was going to be heavily scrutinized, so one should better lay the cards out on the table and be as transparent as possible. Consider that as a kind of preemptive strike: if later on, anyone casts doubts on the numbers or our efforts, we could always defend ourselves by saying that we had been very transparent with the data and that we were hoping that such transparency would allow the scientific community at large to help us garner better information more quickly for the sake of saving and protecting lives. That is what anyone with half a brain would do.
The first thing one does when analyzing data is evaluating how reliable the data are. How was it collected, what biases might it have, what limitations does it have and how do those shape our conclusions. Then, if there is information on more than one variable, does it all make sense together -- do things pass the smell test, as one of my former bosses used to say.
I am thinking about these issues because it was obvious that the pandemic data was going to be heavily scrutinized, so one should better lay the cards out on the table and be as transparent as possible. Consider that as a kind of preemptive strike: if later on, anyone casts doubts on the numbers or our efforts, we could always defend ourselves by saying that we had been very transparent with the data and that we were hoping that such transparency would allow the scientific community at large to help us garner better information more quickly for the sake of saving and protecting lives. That is what anyone with half a brain would do.
"One can fool some men, or fool all men in some places and times, but one cannot fool all men in all places and ages."
~ Jacques Abbadie, 1684
terça-feira, 23 de junho de 2020
Version 2.050
Today would have been my mother's 78th birthday. Were in not for the pandemic, I probably would have scheduled a trip to Portugal so that I could put flowers on our family grave. I'm the only one in the family that does it. Of course, it does not really matter, but it is a way of reminding ourselves where we come from and also that we are part of something bigger than just our everyday lives. For us to be here now means that many others were here before us.
I scheduled a massage for Friday. Many people think that I am very calm because I don't really show my emotions or, as one of my personal trainers used to say, I've got a poker face, but when I get stressed out, I feel it mostly in my body, rather than my mind. My back gets really tight and it starts to burn, so for the last few weeks I have been daydreaming about someone kneading my back so hard that I can almost feel the pain required to relieve the pain that I feel.
The appointment I requested is for one and a half hours and that's because I was too embarrassed to schedule two hours. I don't even know if it would make sense a two hour massage for a person as small as me, but I will inquire just in case. The therapist I am going to is a neighbor and I only discovered that she did massage last week, when I had dinner at my other neighbor's. She doesn't know yet that she's gained a very good client.
Then tomorrow I will be visiting the dentist because I think I have a cavity. I suspect my cavity has something to do with drinking too much kombucha. I am not supposed to drink carbonated drinks because my teeth are too soft, but I needed the bacteria for my gut. I have stopped drinking it now. Teeth are one of the most frustrating things for me.
I also got an email from my periodontist asking me to review the appointment I never had. I was supposed to go there at the end of March, but everything got shut down because of the pandemic. When I called to ask about it, they told me that they were in the process of rescheduling it, which never happened. I guess I will need to call again. I know I will have to have surgery and it's going to be at least a year and a half of treatments. We shall see...
I scheduled a massage for Friday. Many people think that I am very calm because I don't really show my emotions or, as one of my personal trainers used to say, I've got a poker face, but when I get stressed out, I feel it mostly in my body, rather than my mind. My back gets really tight and it starts to burn, so for the last few weeks I have been daydreaming about someone kneading my back so hard that I can almost feel the pain required to relieve the pain that I feel.
The appointment I requested is for one and a half hours and that's because I was too embarrassed to schedule two hours. I don't even know if it would make sense a two hour massage for a person as small as me, but I will inquire just in case. The therapist I am going to is a neighbor and I only discovered that she did massage last week, when I had dinner at my other neighbor's. She doesn't know yet that she's gained a very good client.
Then tomorrow I will be visiting the dentist because I think I have a cavity. I suspect my cavity has something to do with drinking too much kombucha. I am not supposed to drink carbonated drinks because my teeth are too soft, but I needed the bacteria for my gut. I have stopped drinking it now. Teeth are one of the most frustrating things for me.
I also got an email from my periodontist asking me to review the appointment I never had. I was supposed to go there at the end of March, but everything got shut down because of the pandemic. When I called to ask about it, they told me that they were in the process of rescheduling it, which never happened. I guess I will need to call again. I know I will have to have surgery and it's going to be at least a year and a half of treatments. We shall see...
segunda-feira, 22 de junho de 2020
Version 2.049
I am feeling guilty as I write this, as I failed to send a message to my neighbor in Houston. It was a mix of laziness and carelessness in managing my time, but I must also pat myself on the back for spending most of my weekend working on taxes. I will have enough to itemize deductions this year, so I saved almost all of my shopping receipts and just needed to add all the local taxes that I paid in 2019.
Property and local taxes added up to close to $6900, a rather meager amount compared to property taxes alone in many other big cities, but that's one of the advantages of Memphis. State and local taxes, or SALT, will be added to the contributions to my retirement accounts, health savings account, health insurance premiums, charity contributions, property interest, and other smaller things that I don't recall, to reduce my taxable income. I was surprised to see how long the tax preparation packet is this year. Taxes have gotten really complicated with this last reform.
While I was whiling away in Taxland, the big news of the day was the Tulsa Trump Rally, which did not go well for the Trump campaign. Apparently, many teenagers reserved tickets to go, but had no intention of showing up, so it was a rather lame event. Tulsa, a city in Oklahoma, is still grappling with its history of the Tulsa race massacre that took place in 1921, in which a group of white people attacked the Greenwood district, which had a thriving black community, killing several dozen people and maybe several hundred. It is estimated that about 800 people may have been taken to the hospital.
The affair is not only shameful for the actual events, but also for the cover up that followed and that lasted decades, as local and state history did not include mention of the event. Only in 1996 did the state start to investigate what happened, but school curricula only included it this year, which I find very odd still. My first Christmas spent in the U.S. was in Tulsa, OK, in 1995, and for many years I did not know about the massacre, even though I lived in Oklahoma over seven years. It's still the place where I have lived the longest, after Portugal.
It was in poor taste for Trump to select Tulsa for a rally, but it has also served the purpose of having the massacre be talked about in national news. If Trump had not become President, we'd probably not be having these conversations and the truth is that there are a lot of people who need to hear us acknowledge their suffering. That's the hardest part about this whole thing for me: progress happens more quickly when people like Trump get to power.
Property and local taxes added up to close to $6900, a rather meager amount compared to property taxes alone in many other big cities, but that's one of the advantages of Memphis. State and local taxes, or SALT, will be added to the contributions to my retirement accounts, health savings account, health insurance premiums, charity contributions, property interest, and other smaller things that I don't recall, to reduce my taxable income. I was surprised to see how long the tax preparation packet is this year. Taxes have gotten really complicated with this last reform.
While I was whiling away in Taxland, the big news of the day was the Tulsa Trump Rally, which did not go well for the Trump campaign. Apparently, many teenagers reserved tickets to go, but had no intention of showing up, so it was a rather lame event. Tulsa, a city in Oklahoma, is still grappling with its history of the Tulsa race massacre that took place in 1921, in which a group of white people attacked the Greenwood district, which had a thriving black community, killing several dozen people and maybe several hundred. It is estimated that about 800 people may have been taken to the hospital.
The affair is not only shameful for the actual events, but also for the cover up that followed and that lasted decades, as local and state history did not include mention of the event. Only in 1996 did the state start to investigate what happened, but school curricula only included it this year, which I find very odd still. My first Christmas spent in the U.S. was in Tulsa, OK, in 1995, and for many years I did not know about the massacre, even though I lived in Oklahoma over seven years. It's still the place where I have lived the longest, after Portugal.
It was in poor taste for Trump to select Tulsa for a rally, but it has also served the purpose of having the massacre be talked about in national news. If Trump had not become President, we'd probably not be having these conversations and the truth is that there are a lot of people who need to hear us acknowledge their suffering. That's the hardest part about this whole thing for me: progress happens more quickly when people like Trump get to power.
domingo, 21 de junho de 2020
Version 2.048
I received a very nice visit from the young man who has Portugal written in his car and to whom I offered a basket of Portuguese goods on June 10. Amazingly, his family emigrated from the Azores and Madeira in the 1890s, yes, over 100 years ago, to Hawaii. His surname is Portuguese and a while back he became interested in learning more about his heritage. He has even learned a little bit of Portuguese, mostly Brazilian style, but he showed me that he found a tutor of European Portuguese and he is committed to learning it.
In my basket of goods, I included Fernando Pessoa's Mensagem, even though I did not know if the person would be able to read Portuguese. He is reading it, although he has trouble understanding some of the poems, but his favorite so far is Mostrengo, which reminds me that I should share with him a video of João Villaret reciting it. I shared with him the website for Arquivo Pessoa, since I showed him a page of Livro do Desassossego and he said that he really liked it. He is so committed to his Portuguese heritage, that he purchased a copy of Maria de Medeiros' film "Capitães de Abril" for $75, so that he could have the a DVD that is compatible with North America DVD players. I am impressed...
His wife was working, so she did not come, but I have invited them over to dinner some time, we just don't have a date yet. I don't know quite yet what to cook, but I could try to make something traditional with cod fish. I seldom cook traditional cod fish dishes; the only ones I have mastered are Bacalhau com Natas e Bacalhau cozido com batatas. I am not a very good cook, I am always making up dishes and fail to follow the traditional recipes.
Anyway, he probably thinks that I am crazy because I know how to find so many Portuguese things in the U.S. I even gave him a bag of Delta coffee, since he told me that he did have a coffee mill at home. But it's nice to have someone with whom to talk to about one's country.
In my basket of goods, I included Fernando Pessoa's Mensagem, even though I did not know if the person would be able to read Portuguese. He is reading it, although he has trouble understanding some of the poems, but his favorite so far is Mostrengo, which reminds me that I should share with him a video of João Villaret reciting it. I shared with him the website for Arquivo Pessoa, since I showed him a page of Livro do Desassossego and he said that he really liked it. He is so committed to his Portuguese heritage, that he purchased a copy of Maria de Medeiros' film "Capitães de Abril" for $75, so that he could have the a DVD that is compatible with North America DVD players. I am impressed...
His wife was working, so she did not come, but I have invited them over to dinner some time, we just don't have a date yet. I don't know quite yet what to cook, but I could try to make something traditional with cod fish. I seldom cook traditional cod fish dishes; the only ones I have mastered are Bacalhau com Natas e Bacalhau cozido com batatas. I am not a very good cook, I am always making up dishes and fail to follow the traditional recipes.
Anyway, he probably thinks that I am crazy because I know how to find so many Portuguese things in the U.S. I even gave him a bag of Delta coffee, since he told me that he did have a coffee mill at home. But it's nice to have someone with whom to talk to about one's country.
sábado, 20 de junho de 2020
Version 2.047
Today we celebrated Juneteenth, the day in 1865 in which the slaves were freed in Galveston, TX, more than two years after President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, although still a few months before slavery was outlawed in the Union. The first time I heard about Juneteenth was my a friend in Texas and, today, when we were having our Zoom happy hour and I mentioned this, she said that she became acquainted with it, when she lived in New York state, since the African-American community has long celebrated it.
This is the second African-American holiday that I have seen gain importance ever since moving here, almost 23 years ago. The first one was MLK's birthday. The trouble with social change is that you have to step back and look at it from a distance. If you're too close, you almost miss it. But things are changing and they seem to be changing in the right direction.
This is the second African-American holiday that I have seen gain importance ever since moving here, almost 23 years ago. The first one was MLK's birthday. The trouble with social change is that you have to step back and look at it from a distance. If you're too close, you almost miss it. But things are changing and they seem to be changing in the right direction.
sexta-feira, 19 de junho de 2020
Version 2.046
After work today, I went to Germantown to get some pieces framed. I don't recall ever having anything of significance framed in the U.S. at a real framer, but I had seen this store, which after the pandemic had written on the window "This too shall pass," and I immediately knew that that would be the place for me to have several items that I had collected over the years framed, the reason being that I, too, have "This too shall pass on my Skype status at work.
The total bill was over $2100 and that was after they gave me a discount, but I believe the work will be well worth it, plus I am not planning on having anything else framed--well, I suppose I could have Moon Taxi's autographed poster done, but I have not decided on it, yet.
The young man who helped me with my things was very nice and I liked his input. He asked me about my house and the type of light I had and I showed him a few pictures of my space in order to inform his suggestions. In one of the pieces, he gave me several mats to choose from to frame a nude piece that I had and I chose the one that had a texture that most resembled human skin. When I told him that, he asked me if I was an artist.
I am not an artist; all I do is visit museums and buy books. Then he asked me what kind of books I liked. Personal essays, short stories, and poetry, I replied. I am not a great reader, I read very slowly and I tend to think a lot about what I read, so it is time and energy-consuming, but I did not explain this part to him.
The owner, who is a woman, was also there and happened to take over the conversation with me. She asked me how I had learned about them and it was because they are in the same mall that Trader Joe's is. She was happy to see me probably because I spent quite a bit of money, but I have been collecting these things for over 20 years, so it's really not that much money if you think about the time component.
She told me that they usually have people come in an give talks about artists, so when I go pick up my order, in about 2-3 weeks, I am supposed to sign their guest-book, so that I can receive their announcements via their mailing list. I think that would be a really interesting program and something right up my alley...
The total bill was over $2100 and that was after they gave me a discount, but I believe the work will be well worth it, plus I am not planning on having anything else framed--well, I suppose I could have Moon Taxi's autographed poster done, but I have not decided on it, yet.
The young man who helped me with my things was very nice and I liked his input. He asked me about my house and the type of light I had and I showed him a few pictures of my space in order to inform his suggestions. In one of the pieces, he gave me several mats to choose from to frame a nude piece that I had and I chose the one that had a texture that most resembled human skin. When I told him that, he asked me if I was an artist.
I am not an artist; all I do is visit museums and buy books. Then he asked me what kind of books I liked. Personal essays, short stories, and poetry, I replied. I am not a great reader, I read very slowly and I tend to think a lot about what I read, so it is time and energy-consuming, but I did not explain this part to him.
The owner, who is a woman, was also there and happened to take over the conversation with me. She asked me how I had learned about them and it was because they are in the same mall that Trader Joe's is. She was happy to see me probably because I spent quite a bit of money, but I have been collecting these things for over 20 years, so it's really not that much money if you think about the time component.
She told me that they usually have people come in an give talks about artists, so when I go pick up my order, in about 2-3 weeks, I am supposed to sign their guest-book, so that I can receive their announcements via their mailing list. I think that would be a really interesting program and something right up my alley...
quinta-feira, 18 de junho de 2020
Version 2.045
On Saturday, I FedExed my nephew's birthday present to Portugal. It cost me $220 to send, but it arrived today, one day before promised. I did not have to deal with the hassle of the Portuguese Customs, as it entered the EU via France and FedEx took care of everything. I suppose this is the way to go and, as far as I am concerned, the Post Office can go out of business and I shall be a happy camper.
I mentioned to my neighbor my adventures with the Portuguese customs and she, in her most American way, inquired how people in the customs' office find the time to harass the citizens -- wouldn't they have other things to do? I suppose they do not, if some of us are FedExing packages via France.
On our evening walk, we ran into one of the board member of the Homeowner's Association, who asked me if I'd be interested in serving on the Board. I would not have voting rights, since I was not elected, but I'd have an input, plus he said that they were looking for a female perspective. I said OK, I'd do it, but I still wanted to be involved in the social committee, which I believe will be the most interesting.
Of course, this means that in, no time, I will know a lot of people in the neighborhood. It will be hard to lose that anonymity one has when one is a newcomer, but it does not last forever, I suppose...
I mentioned to my neighbor my adventures with the Portuguese customs and she, in her most American way, inquired how people in the customs' office find the time to harass the citizens -- wouldn't they have other things to do? I suppose they do not, if some of us are FedExing packages via France.
On our evening walk, we ran into one of the board member of the Homeowner's Association, who asked me if I'd be interested in serving on the Board. I would not have voting rights, since I was not elected, but I'd have an input, plus he said that they were looking for a female perspective. I said OK, I'd do it, but I still wanted to be involved in the social committee, which I believe will be the most interesting.
Of course, this means that in, no time, I will know a lot of people in the neighborhood. It will be hard to lose that anonymity one has when one is a newcomer, but it does not last forever, I suppose...
quarta-feira, 17 de junho de 2020
Version 2.044
The Georgia Peach Truck was making a delivery in Memphis today, so I went and got the box that I had ordered. I was not expecting for the line to be so long. They had several police officers guiding traffic and, even still, we stood in line for close to two hours. Those peaches better be the best peaches of my life or I am going to ask God to give me a refund on my waiting time.
The good thing, though, is that I finally finished the audiobook "The Age of Light," which is an historical fiction portrayal of Lee Miller's life, in particular the time that she went to Paris and started working and dating Man Ray. I think I should listen to it again -- maybe on my next road trip. I sure miss traveling, plus mentally I really need a vacation. File that under first world problems, I suppose. Many times I wonder how my genes made it to me because I'm all about comfort. I should've been extinct long ago.
I was asked to be in the social committee for the Homeowner's Association and I said yes. We were goofing off and I suggested that we should do a Stayin' Alive Outdoor Party, since we are going through the pandemic. We could all wear bell bottoms and hippie clothes. Anyway, it will be interesting to see what we'll be able to come up with now that we cannot go to a restaurant to have a Christmas dinner, since many of the residents are in the risk group. Plus, come fall and winter, things might be really bad. I don't see that many people taking care to wear masks and social distance.
Tomorrow, will be wicked in the morning. I have a meeting at 7:30 AM, then I'm supposed to lead the 8 AM meeting. I hope to be bright eyed and bushy-tailed by then. I'm about to fall asleep right now...
The good thing, though, is that I finally finished the audiobook "The Age of Light," which is an historical fiction portrayal of Lee Miller's life, in particular the time that she went to Paris and started working and dating Man Ray. I think I should listen to it again -- maybe on my next road trip. I sure miss traveling, plus mentally I really need a vacation. File that under first world problems, I suppose. Many times I wonder how my genes made it to me because I'm all about comfort. I should've been extinct long ago.
I was asked to be in the social committee for the Homeowner's Association and I said yes. We were goofing off and I suggested that we should do a Stayin' Alive Outdoor Party, since we are going through the pandemic. We could all wear bell bottoms and hippie clothes. Anyway, it will be interesting to see what we'll be able to come up with now that we cannot go to a restaurant to have a Christmas dinner, since many of the residents are in the risk group. Plus, come fall and winter, things might be really bad. I don't see that many people taking care to wear masks and social distance.
Tomorrow, will be wicked in the morning. I have a meeting at 7:30 AM, then I'm supposed to lead the 8 AM meeting. I hope to be bright eyed and bushy-tailed by then. I'm about to fall asleep right now...
terça-feira, 16 de junho de 2020
Version 2.043
What a day! The Supreme Court of the United States affirms that Civil Rights laws also protect LGBTQ workers from discrimination. Neil Gorsuch, the first Trump appointee to the Supreme Court, voted with the majority. If you'd ask me, I would have said that it would've been more probable for Kavanaugh to vote with the majority, but, alas, I was wrong indeed as Kavanaugh voted against it.
The cherry on the cake is that SCOTUS has also turned away 10 appeals that aimed at widening gun rights protections. It is quite remarkable such a turn, since the court tends to move slowly and cautiously, but when they see the writing on the wall, they do keep up with the times.
Speaking of SCOTUS, when I was in DC in February, I stopped by the National Portrait Gallery and there was a portrait of the four female Justices: Sandra Day O'Connor (she's retired), Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Elena Kagan, and Sonia Sotomayor. Around that time, someone sent me a very funny Portuguese social media post that said the SCOTUS Justices are known as the Supremes. Nope, they are called Justices. The Supremes are that band whose lead singer was Diana Ross. And, yes, the National Portrait Gallery also had a portrait of the Supremes: a poster of one of their concerts.
The cherry on the cake is that SCOTUS has also turned away 10 appeals that aimed at widening gun rights protections. It is quite remarkable such a turn, since the court tends to move slowly and cautiously, but when they see the writing on the wall, they do keep up with the times.
Speaking of SCOTUS, when I was in DC in February, I stopped by the National Portrait Gallery and there was a portrait of the four female Justices: Sandra Day O'Connor (she's retired), Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Elena Kagan, and Sonia Sotomayor. Around that time, someone sent me a very funny Portuguese social media post that said the SCOTUS Justices are known as the Supremes. Nope, they are called Justices. The Supremes are that band whose lead singer was Diana Ross. And, yes, the National Portrait Gallery also had a portrait of the Supremes: a poster of one of their concerts.
segunda-feira, 15 de junho de 2020
Version 2.042
I had a to-do list for this weekend, which I have yet to complete, and I am not sure I am going to make it. I veered off my path sometime today and went down memory lane. I was looking for my Rock in Rio CD, which I cannot find after so much moving that I have done; instead, after random trials of sound, I played Sarah McLachlan's Fumbling Toward Ecstasy.
It had been a few years since I had heard it back to back. I grew up so much while listening to that album and her music that listening to it now feels like visiting an old friend. One of my ex-boyfriends cannot play her, for his wife assumes that he is thinking about me, if he does.
It was my second American boyfriend who got me into her. He was completely enthralled with Sarah McLachlan and we would lie in his bed listening to her albums and trying to decipher her lyrics. As a man, the thought that she might be bisexual was very exciting to him. I was indifferent, but I liked the music.
It made me smile to see him giddy with excitement about the things he loved. His eyes would sparkle and his body would become more expansive as he gesticulated to heighten his enthusiasm. And he would sigh all the time and giggle in an almost childish display of emotion. Or maybe it was all in my head, the way I saw him. And maybe that love was like Sarah sings:
At night he would search for me in bed and we would make love, like there was no space between us, just two parts of the same being. Everything then was so intensely carnal, so full of sensation, so much flesh touching one another, so unlike now.
It had been a few years since I had heard it back to back. I grew up so much while listening to that album and her music that listening to it now feels like visiting an old friend. One of my ex-boyfriends cannot play her, for his wife assumes that he is thinking about me, if he does.
It was my second American boyfriend who got me into her. He was completely enthralled with Sarah McLachlan and we would lie in his bed listening to her albums and trying to decipher her lyrics. As a man, the thought that she might be bisexual was very exciting to him. I was indifferent, but I liked the music.
It made me smile to see him giddy with excitement about the things he loved. His eyes would sparkle and his body would become more expansive as he gesticulated to heighten his enthusiasm. And he would sigh all the time and giggle in an almost childish display of emotion. Or maybe it was all in my head, the way I saw him. And maybe that love was like Sarah sings:
"I know this love is passing time
Passing through like liquid
I am drunk in my desire
But I love the way you smile at me
I love the way your hands reach out and hold me near"
At night he would search for me in bed and we would make love, like there was no space between us, just two parts of the same being. Everything then was so intensely carnal, so full of sensation, so much flesh touching one another, so unlike now.
domingo, 14 de junho de 2020
Version 2.041
It is past midnight, so I hope not to fall asleep before finishing. I arrived at my neighbor's house around 6:20PM for dinner and ended up leaving about four hours later. The jalapeño poppers were actually called Texas popsicles and had a slightly different recipe: the jalapeños are cleaned of there seeds and stuffed with brisket, cream cheese, and sharp cheddar cheese, then they are wrapped with bacon and grilled. I had forgotten about the brisket yesterday. There was also grilled corn on the cob, but it had been soaked in beer, so I could not have any, as beer is not gluten-free.
There were also two other guests for dinner, a couple who has sold their house in the neighborhood -- closing day is Monday --, but will be staying until October, since the buyers are locked up in a lease until then, and these neighbors are still having their new home built. They will be downsizing into a less than 600 sqft house from a house that is over 3800 sqft.
Although I have never spent that much time with both couples, they all seem to be very nice people. The wife who is leaving is a masseuse, so I may procure her services before she leaves. She asked me to speak Portuguese for her and thought it lovely when she heard me. Her husband was also very pleasant. When I mentioned that I was from Portugal, he said that the pizza oven of the house they were about to sell had been made in Portugal and that the insulation was cork. Then he said that Portugal was the largest cork producer in the world and explained how one harvests it.
Yesterday, when I was at my other neighbor's, another neighbor had visited (I know, I have too many neighbors) and he made sure he mentioned that his dinner plates were made in Portugal. So were some of mine, I replied. It is such a striking contrast to hear Americans go out of their way to point out these positive things about Portugal, at the same time that on Facebook, I see so many Portuguese people denigrate Americans because of Trump and racism.
I truly think that racism could be on the way out though. If we go back a century, it was to see European immigrants being discriminated against, for example signs that said No Irish Need Apply were rather common. Now, it is hardly noticeable. Racism against black people will get to that point too; that's why people are protesting. It will not happen overnight, but the side of good shall prevail.
There were also two other guests for dinner, a couple who has sold their house in the neighborhood -- closing day is Monday --, but will be staying until October, since the buyers are locked up in a lease until then, and these neighbors are still having their new home built. They will be downsizing into a less than 600 sqft house from a house that is over 3800 sqft.
Although I have never spent that much time with both couples, they all seem to be very nice people. The wife who is leaving is a masseuse, so I may procure her services before she leaves. She asked me to speak Portuguese for her and thought it lovely when she heard me. Her husband was also very pleasant. When I mentioned that I was from Portugal, he said that the pizza oven of the house they were about to sell had been made in Portugal and that the insulation was cork. Then he said that Portugal was the largest cork producer in the world and explained how one harvests it.
Yesterday, when I was at my other neighbor's, another neighbor had visited (I know, I have too many neighbors) and he made sure he mentioned that his dinner plates were made in Portugal. So were some of mine, I replied. It is such a striking contrast to hear Americans go out of their way to point out these positive things about Portugal, at the same time that on Facebook, I see so many Portuguese people denigrate Americans because of Trump and racism.
I truly think that racism could be on the way out though. If we go back a century, it was to see European immigrants being discriminated against, for example signs that said No Irish Need Apply were rather common. Now, it is hardly noticeable. Racism against black people will get to that point too; that's why people are protesting. It will not happen overnight, but the side of good shall prevail.
sábado, 13 de junho de 2020
Version 2.040
I took the afternoon off, so as to not spend as much time working on the computer. One of my dorm friends suggested that I should just get surgery to fix the carpal tunnel syndrome; but I think not. I depend on my hands for work, so I should just learn to take better care of them before the problem gets too far.
The afternoon was nice and I mainly chatted with the neighbors. At 7PM we had a balcony concert in the neighborhood, courtesy of my neighbor Mike, who also streams it live on Facebook. He's been doing one about once a week. The weather was just perfect: not too hot, not too humid. This time at least five families were present, so afterward we chatted for a bit.
I got invited to a dinner tomorrow night at one neighbor's house. It's a barbecue and let's just say that it will be rather decadent. The menu includes chicken wings and stuffed jalapeño poppers. Note that the jalapeños are stuffed with a mix of cream and cheddar cheeses and wrapped in bacon. I almost feel a heart attack coming as I type it...
Oh, I also was contacted by two different recruiters this week, so I got to talk to one of them this afternoon.I find it surprising that so many companies were hiring -- my company also hired someone recently and there's a few more positions in the works --, but I believe that the labor market was so tight, that companies that are in good shape are trying to take advantage of this opportunity to hire highly skilled people. If the person got unemployed because of the virus then that will save on the entrance package, probably, since they won't have to match non-vested retirement savings.
I ended up recommending a couple of former coworkers for the positions. I hope at least one of them gets something.
The afternoon was nice and I mainly chatted with the neighbors. At 7PM we had a balcony concert in the neighborhood, courtesy of my neighbor Mike, who also streams it live on Facebook. He's been doing one about once a week. The weather was just perfect: not too hot, not too humid. This time at least five families were present, so afterward we chatted for a bit.
I got invited to a dinner tomorrow night at one neighbor's house. It's a barbecue and let's just say that it will be rather decadent. The menu includes chicken wings and stuffed jalapeño poppers. Note that the jalapeños are stuffed with a mix of cream and cheddar cheeses and wrapped in bacon. I almost feel a heart attack coming as I type it...
Oh, I also was contacted by two different recruiters this week, so I got to talk to one of them this afternoon.I find it surprising that so many companies were hiring -- my company also hired someone recently and there's a few more positions in the works --, but I believe that the labor market was so tight, that companies that are in good shape are trying to take advantage of this opportunity to hire highly skilled people. If the person got unemployed because of the virus then that will save on the entrance package, probably, since they won't have to match non-vested retirement savings.
I ended up recommending a couple of former coworkers for the positions. I hope at least one of them gets something.
sexta-feira, 12 de junho de 2020
SENSATEZ: PRECISA-SE
A atribuição da verba de
quatrocentos milhões de euros inscrita na proposta de orçamento suplementar
para este ano, com a finalidade de “dotar as escolas, os docentes e os alunos para o desenvolvimento de competências digitais no trabalho
escolar”, tem gerado comentários acerbos, que me espantam por alguns deles
provirem de pessoas inteligentes.
Version 2.039
Today I got a message from my neighbor who is doing crisis nursing in New Jersey. She extended her contract until the beginning of August and, so far, knock on wood, she is Covid-free. I cannot fathom being such a positive person as she is, but I suppose a lot of it is driven by some sort of faith in God that I do not possess. But it is nice that there are people like this; the more diversity of thought and experience, the more resilient the ecosystem.
I continue struggling with taking care of Julian's paw. He has done two rounds of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories, but he still has a blister between two of his toes. He apparently does it to himself by licking the paw so much that it becomes irritated. I have him in a Pro-collar, which he does not appreciate because it is uncomfortable for him to lie down. I have caught his sleeping while sitting down several times.
It is quite hilarious that he can balance himself and sleep at the same time, but then again that's what I did when I went to Paladar, in New Orleans, and I felt sick. I only woke up to go to the rest room to throw up, then returned to the table, sat down, and closed my eyes. My friends were very impressed, although they swear that the reason why I got sick was that I stopped at a gas station in Mississippi, on the way to NOLA and had fried chicken on a stick.
Even the other day, when I told that episode to my neighbor, she was appalled that I would eat at a gas station. The only thing that is safe to eat there are things that come in a wrapper, she informed me. I did not tell her that, in Memphis, one of the best sushi places is at the gas station on the corner of Poplar and Ridgeway. But that issue of gas station food has been resolved, since I cannot have gluten or rice anymore.
I continue struggling with taking care of Julian's paw. He has done two rounds of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories, but he still has a blister between two of his toes. He apparently does it to himself by licking the paw so much that it becomes irritated. I have him in a Pro-collar, which he does not appreciate because it is uncomfortable for him to lie down. I have caught his sleeping while sitting down several times.
It is quite hilarious that he can balance himself and sleep at the same time, but then again that's what I did when I went to Paladar, in New Orleans, and I felt sick. I only woke up to go to the rest room to throw up, then returned to the table, sat down, and closed my eyes. My friends were very impressed, although they swear that the reason why I got sick was that I stopped at a gas station in Mississippi, on the way to NOLA and had fried chicken on a stick.
Even the other day, when I told that episode to my neighbor, she was appalled that I would eat at a gas station. The only thing that is safe to eat there are things that come in a wrapper, she informed me. I did not tell her that, in Memphis, one of the best sushi places is at the gas station on the corner of Poplar and Ridgeway. But that issue of gas station food has been resolved, since I cannot have gluten or rice anymore.
quinta-feira, 11 de junho de 2020
Version 2.038
A few days ago, I was contemplating what to do in my old age. Do I stay in the U.S. or not. It just so happened that a Portuguese friend with whom I had not spoken in over three years emailed that same day, which was an odd coincidence because he thinks that I am 100% Portuguese. I disagree. I had always felt like a stranger in Portugal, but after being in the U.S. for half my life, I am indeed a stranger.
When I speak Portuguese, I do so with a slight American accent. It's not that perceptible to me, but it stands out enough that Portuguese people point it out. If I write in Portuguese, I get called on for making mistakes, as if I need to be perfect because I left, when many of those who stayed speak/write worse than me, but that's tolerable. If I write in English, I am conceited.
The strangest thing, I suppose, is that I have never been treated like that in the U.S., where I am an actual stranger. If people perceive that I have a slight accent when I speak English, they ask where I am from with curiosity and celebrate the fact that I came here on my own. Sometimes, they comment on how I speak so clearly and with purpose, which makes it easy for them to understand what I say.
Anyway, today was Portugal Day, so I set up a care package of Portuguese goods and took it over to my Portuguese neighbor, whom I've never met. I even sewed a border on a piece of Portuguese cotton fabric to wrap my things with. My neighbor and his wife, who I think are probably in their 20s, can use it as a table cloth or a picnic blanket. In my package, I included a copy of Fernando Pessoa's Mensagem, tuna cans, soap, tea, a pot holder, and a couple of ceramic pieces. I hope they like it.
When I speak Portuguese, I do so with a slight American accent. It's not that perceptible to me, but it stands out enough that Portuguese people point it out. If I write in Portuguese, I get called on for making mistakes, as if I need to be perfect because I left, when many of those who stayed speak/write worse than me, but that's tolerable. If I write in English, I am conceited.
The strangest thing, I suppose, is that I have never been treated like that in the U.S., where I am an actual stranger. If people perceive that I have a slight accent when I speak English, they ask where I am from with curiosity and celebrate the fact that I came here on my own. Sometimes, they comment on how I speak so clearly and with purpose, which makes it easy for them to understand what I say.
Anyway, today was Portugal Day, so I set up a care package of Portuguese goods and took it over to my Portuguese neighbor, whom I've never met. I even sewed a border on a piece of Portuguese cotton fabric to wrap my things with. My neighbor and his wife, who I think are probably in their 20s, can use it as a table cloth or a picnic blanket. In my package, I included a copy of Fernando Pessoa's Mensagem, tuna cans, soap, tea, a pot holder, and a couple of ceramic pieces. I hope they like it.
quarta-feira, 10 de junho de 2020
Version 2.037
We buried George Floyd in Houston, TX. Until recently he was a nobody, whose life was not perfect; today we remember him for the imperfection of his death. Not to say that he is the only one, but he is part of an increasing crowd of one-too-many. I am hopping that this is, indeed, the straw that broke the camel's back because, if so, it means that things are about to change for the better. They will not change for the best, but they will be better and better is worth fighting for.
There will be casualties because that is the history of the United States: that is how the country reinvents itself, in order to continue its path toward a more perfect union. This is not any different from many times before. The only ones who are different are the people of whom we ask the sacrifice, but change is in the air and we must rise to the occasion. Justice must be served.
There will be casualties because that is the history of the United States: that is how the country reinvents itself, in order to continue its path toward a more perfect union. This is not any different from many times before. The only ones who are different are the people of whom we ask the sacrifice, but change is in the air and we must rise to the occasion. Justice must be served.
"We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America."
~ Preamble to the United States Constitution
terça-feira, 9 de junho de 2020
Version 2.036
I am awake today. Yesterday, I forgot to push publish before putting away the computer. I suppose there are advantages and disadvantages to writing in a state of semi-consciousness, although I am not holding out for the recognition lavished upon André Breton.
Cristobal arrived as a tropical depression today; we had lots of rain, which was behind schedule. I took the opportunity to go pick up the right wrist support that the doctor had ordered for me from the medical and mobility store, since she believes I have carpal tunnel syndrome, or at least the beginning of such. The diameter of my right wrist measures in at exactly 6 inches, which is right at the border of small and medium, so the woman gave me a medium--she wanted to make sure that I'd be comfortable. It cost $25.
I am now wearing two types of support, one for each hand. On my left hand, I have a wrist and thumb support because a blind fell on my wrist last July and opened a gash that required five stitches. I healed fine from the wound itself, but, later on, realized a tendon that runs through my thumb started to hurt. Too bad the emergency care doctor did not let me know that I could have issues long-term, but I was able to figure it out and I am so much better after using the support regularly. She did a great job stitching me up and giving me instructions to look after the wound because you can hardly tell that I have a scar. The human body can do some amazing things.
Another amazing thing is that I feel vindicated. Nearly five years ago, I had an argument with friends where I defended the point of view that people who engage in sexual activities with others, while online, i.e., physically apart, are sexually active. The counter-argument was that only people who physically interact with others can be considered sexually active. I suppose it takes a pandemic to prove my point, but I won that argument. Conscious arousal starts in the brain, but I suppose that if you're a man that wakes up with a boner most of your life, you tend to overlook that minor detail.
Cristobal arrived as a tropical depression today; we had lots of rain, which was behind schedule. I took the opportunity to go pick up the right wrist support that the doctor had ordered for me from the medical and mobility store, since she believes I have carpal tunnel syndrome, or at least the beginning of such. The diameter of my right wrist measures in at exactly 6 inches, which is right at the border of small and medium, so the woman gave me a medium--she wanted to make sure that I'd be comfortable. It cost $25.
I am now wearing two types of support, one for each hand. On my left hand, I have a wrist and thumb support because a blind fell on my wrist last July and opened a gash that required five stitches. I healed fine from the wound itself, but, later on, realized a tendon that runs through my thumb started to hurt. Too bad the emergency care doctor did not let me know that I could have issues long-term, but I was able to figure it out and I am so much better after using the support regularly. She did a great job stitching me up and giving me instructions to look after the wound because you can hardly tell that I have a scar. The human body can do some amazing things.
Another amazing thing is that I feel vindicated. Nearly five years ago, I had an argument with friends where I defended the point of view that people who engage in sexual activities with others, while online, i.e., physically apart, are sexually active. The counter-argument was that only people who physically interact with others can be considered sexually active. I suppose it takes a pandemic to prove my point, but I won that argument. Conscious arousal starts in the brain, but I suppose that if you're a man that wakes up with a boner most of your life, you tend to overlook that minor detail.
segunda-feira, 8 de junho de 2020
Version 2.035
I was told today that I did not know the history of my country because there was no slavery in the Portuguese colonies. The person who told me this has also said that my command of the Portuguese language is lacking. Lest you think that I am hurt, this sort of comment actually reenforces my personal choices and my idea of what it means to be a person. If one has to sugar coat the truth in order to carry on with the illusion that one is dispensed from showing humility and contrition in the face of history, then expect little or no respect from me.
As social animals, we live our lives not just through our point of view, but through that of others. We must feel empathy, I suppose; but it is more virtuous to live in doubt and willingness to change than to hold on to a fable of at long-lost time. It was not my intention to preach, even though it feels like it.
Carl Sagan once said that we, humans, were a way for the universe to know itself. I subscribe to that view; we are not born with the answers, but with the ability to ask questions and attempt find an answer.
As social animals, we live our lives not just through our point of view, but through that of others. We must feel empathy, I suppose; but it is more virtuous to live in doubt and willingness to change than to hold on to a fable of at long-lost time. It was not my intention to preach, even though it feels like it.
Carl Sagan once said that we, humans, were a way for the universe to know itself. I subscribe to that view; we are not born with the answers, but with the ability to ask questions and attempt find an answer.
domingo, 7 de junho de 2020
Version 2.034
I did not go out today. I stayed mostly in the house gardening and also helped my neighbor with her garden. It was less than three weeks ago that we were sitting in my neighbor's patio, when she professed her hate for her garden. Ever since I learned that her house has a covered patio that I have coveted the space, so I told her that I actually loved her outdoor set up and her garden was a great space. For example, she could do a raised bed along the fence with some rocks, I suggested. But the covered patio was the crown jewel, in my opinion.
The following day, we met I thought to brainstorm the set up of the patio, but she had already started to place rocks for the flowerbed, so I helped her. Then she wondered where she could buy more rocks, so I told her. Within a couple of days, she had the rocks placed in a layout that she found pleasing.
By sheer coincidence, a few days earlier, I had toured the garden of another neighbor who was also doing some landscaping work. That garden had massive hostas, very mature and lush, but they thought that they were not colorful enough, so they were going to dispose of them. I absolutely love hostas; several years ago, in my previous Memphis house, I tried to build a shade garden full of hostas, but I moved too early to see how my plans had turned out. Nevertheless, every once in a while, I still drive by the old house just to see how the hostas in the front flower beds are doing.
Of course I asked the neighbor to give me the hostas, since it caused me pain that they were basically on death row. And that is how I ended up with close to 20 variegated hostas, for which I did not have that many places to put them; but since the other neighbor was needing plants for the raised flowerbed, I set aside four large ones for her garden. What a difference they made and because they were transplanted almost immediately, they did not even wilt; instead they proceeded with their happy lives and started blooming.
The last two to three weeks have been partly consumed with the progress of that garden, with me studying the direction of the sun, the placement of the trees, and giving suggestion of where to move the plants based on the amount of sunlight that they would get.
Today, the sod went down. Originally, the garden had Bermuda, but it was in a bit of bad shape with weeds and drainage issues. A lot of the drainage problems were because the previous owner had placed a tarp around the garden and covered it with pebbles, so any runoff that came from the alley would bypass that area and land on the lawn, hence the issues with the weeds and bare grass areas. By creating the raised bed, those issues were mostly solved, all that was needed was to even out the terrain for the grass.
Since no Bermuda sod was available at the garden store, they went with fescue, which does well in cold weather. This fescue is so fine that it reminds me of the grass in a putting green. I saw it first about a couple of months ago, when another neighbor had put some in his front-garden, which is totally shaded by trees.
I called my ex-father-in-law to give me the scoop on this fescue sod and how to take care of it. I sent him a picture of the yard, that my neighbor had sent me, with the sod in place and he said that fescue was probably a good choice for that space. Tomorrow I will share the information with my neighbor. She jokes that all the work she has done was my fault, since I told her she could use rocks to build a flower bed. She seems happy with how it turned out.
The following day, we met I thought to brainstorm the set up of the patio, but she had already started to place rocks for the flowerbed, so I helped her. Then she wondered where she could buy more rocks, so I told her. Within a couple of days, she had the rocks placed in a layout that she found pleasing.
By sheer coincidence, a few days earlier, I had toured the garden of another neighbor who was also doing some landscaping work. That garden had massive hostas, very mature and lush, but they thought that they were not colorful enough, so they were going to dispose of them. I absolutely love hostas; several years ago, in my previous Memphis house, I tried to build a shade garden full of hostas, but I moved too early to see how my plans had turned out. Nevertheless, every once in a while, I still drive by the old house just to see how the hostas in the front flower beds are doing.
Of course I asked the neighbor to give me the hostas, since it caused me pain that they were basically on death row. And that is how I ended up with close to 20 variegated hostas, for which I did not have that many places to put them; but since the other neighbor was needing plants for the raised flowerbed, I set aside four large ones for her garden. What a difference they made and because they were transplanted almost immediately, they did not even wilt; instead they proceeded with their happy lives and started blooming.
The last two to three weeks have been partly consumed with the progress of that garden, with me studying the direction of the sun, the placement of the trees, and giving suggestion of where to move the plants based on the amount of sunlight that they would get.
Today, the sod went down. Originally, the garden had Bermuda, but it was in a bit of bad shape with weeds and drainage issues. A lot of the drainage problems were because the previous owner had placed a tarp around the garden and covered it with pebbles, so any runoff that came from the alley would bypass that area and land on the lawn, hence the issues with the weeds and bare grass areas. By creating the raised bed, those issues were mostly solved, all that was needed was to even out the terrain for the grass.
Since no Bermuda sod was available at the garden store, they went with fescue, which does well in cold weather. This fescue is so fine that it reminds me of the grass in a putting green. I saw it first about a couple of months ago, when another neighbor had put some in his front-garden, which is totally shaded by trees.
I called my ex-father-in-law to give me the scoop on this fescue sod and how to take care of it. I sent him a picture of the yard, that my neighbor had sent me, with the sod in place and he said that fescue was probably a good choice for that space. Tomorrow I will share the information with my neighbor. She jokes that all the work she has done was my fault, since I told her she could use rocks to build a flower bed. She seems happy with how it turned out.
sábado, 6 de junho de 2020
Version 2.033
On Fridays, I suppose we have initiated the tradition of having a Zoom happy hour after work. The conversation was dominated by current events: protests, deaths of black people, police violence. It has been a few years now that we have been confronted with police violence, mostly because now there are cell phones everywhere with video-cameras, so there are at least two versions of the facts: the one in the police report and whatever is captured on video.
During the Obama administration, this type of incident was reported just like today, but then there would be a service in memory of the deceased and the focus would be on being more understanding, peaceful, etc. In a way, we were comforted in our hour of grief, just to go through it all over again in a few weeks or months. That starts to wear out on you eventually.
There is no comfort now coming from the White House and one must ask whether we are angry not just for the heinous acts themselves, but also because nobody says a prayer to comfort us. I am just glad that there is an uprising and I hope change will ensue. It's been a long time coming.
During the Obama administration, this type of incident was reported just like today, but then there would be a service in memory of the deceased and the focus would be on being more understanding, peaceful, etc. In a way, we were comforted in our hour of grief, just to go through it all over again in a few weeks or months. That starts to wear out on you eventually.
There is no comfort now coming from the White House and one must ask whether we are angry not just for the heinous acts themselves, but also because nobody says a prayer to comfort us. I am just glad that there is an uprising and I hope change will ensue. It's been a long time coming.
sexta-feira, 5 de junho de 2020
Version 2.032
Today I was pleasantly surprised, as I got a call from two children who wanted to see how I was. I met them six years ago, while in Houston and they are both American children, but their parents are not. Morally, it should not make a different who your parents are; legally, it makes all the difference and these children are the offspring of illegal immigrants. When I met them, they did not speak English and they did not laugh spontaneously; they were American, but they were not American.
A few times, I took them to Starbucks and had them order their own food in English; we danced to Adele's album 21, until they knew all the lyrics, even though they did not understand what they meant. I cooked for them and tried to teach them to eat more vegetables and fruit. They painted with my art supplies and we laughed spontaneously.
I did all of this for them, but I also did it for myself because I believed that I could make a difference. It is not over; they are still children and the future is still theirs to be shaped and built. I am happy that they remember having spent good times with me; but, above all, I am happy that they have learned English and that their English is way better than my pretend Spanish.
A few times, I took them to Starbucks and had them order their own food in English; we danced to Adele's album 21, until they knew all the lyrics, even though they did not understand what they meant. I cooked for them and tried to teach them to eat more vegetables and fruit. They painted with my art supplies and we laughed spontaneously.
I did all of this for them, but I also did it for myself because I believed that I could make a difference. It is not over; they are still children and the future is still theirs to be shaped and built. I am happy that they remember having spent good times with me; but, above all, I am happy that they have learned English and that their English is way better than my pretend Spanish.
quinta-feira, 4 de junho de 2020
Version 2.031
The strangest things happened today: both James Mattis and Pat Robertson condemned the actions of the President. I don't know if we have reached a tipping point, but it seems quite improbable that things will settle down any time soon. Unfortunately, at least two more innocent people were killed by police today: a black chef in Louisville, KY, and a Hispanic man holding a hammer in Vallejo, CA. Every day, the protests seem to gain momentum and, for the most part, people are trying to educate themselves about past crimes committed against minorities.
We shall overcome and build a more perfect union.
We shall overcome and build a more perfect union.
quarta-feira, 3 de junho de 2020
Actualizem o SICO
As autoridades ainda não toparam que o SICO não está a funcionar correctamente há vário dias. Os dias do mais recente fim-de-semana não têm valores. E já agora que tal fazerem a revisão dos dados de 2020 para podermos ver em que pé estamos?
Não se compreende haver falhas destas no meio de uma pandemia. É que nem a comunicação social acompanha o SICO e vai investigar o problema. Vergonha...
Não se compreende haver falhas destas no meio de uma pandemia. É que nem a comunicação social acompanha o SICO e vai investigar o problema. Vergonha...
Version 2.030
I had my first counseling session today. This is one of the reasons why healthcare is expensive in the U.S.: last Wednesday, I made an appointment to see a physician for the following day, and less than a week later, I have already seen the counselor she referred me to, plus she ordered a brace for my arm to prevent carpal tunnel syndrome and it's already waiting for me to pick it up. Oh, and there's a pandemic going on, massive unemployment, shutdowns, etc. If Americans had to wait 6 months or a year to see a specialist, they'd go crazy--and they're already quite crazy.
The counseling session went OK, but it is not one of those things that I am comfortable doing; however, since I am in physical pain, I am forcing myself to go all the way. Nevertheless, it feels really shitty to be talking about my "problems" when there are so many other people who have it worse than me. When I told the counselor that I was having trouble concentrating and sometimes I just pace around, while accomplishing nothing, she suggested that I may have adult ADHD.
I don't think I do; under normal circumstances I enjoy staring at the ceiling for a very long time, which I don't thing people with attention deficit disorder do. In fact, most of my coworkers make fun of me when I'm working on something because I am completely oblivious to what is going on around me. So maybe that is the problem: if I am used to being able to concentrate so hard, I really notice it when I can't do it.
Several of my Portuguese friends sent me messages to ask if everything was OK in my neck of the woods. One could say that I am living in a bubble. None of this instability has affected me, but, of course, I have had my share of uncertainty in my life, so it was bound to happen that I'd be unaffected by something one day. I cannot say that it feels good to be in a good situation because one of my first reactions was survivor's guilt, since I know I am fairly good at navigating uncertainty and I feel sorry for those that aren't. But we all have to learn.
Anyway, the counselor gave me some homework. I am supposed to use an app called Covid Coach to help me deal with stress, so I'll set aside some time tomorrow to learn the ropes of this thing.
The counseling session went OK, but it is not one of those things that I am comfortable doing; however, since I am in physical pain, I am forcing myself to go all the way. Nevertheless, it feels really shitty to be talking about my "problems" when there are so many other people who have it worse than me. When I told the counselor that I was having trouble concentrating and sometimes I just pace around, while accomplishing nothing, she suggested that I may have adult ADHD.
I don't think I do; under normal circumstances I enjoy staring at the ceiling for a very long time, which I don't thing people with attention deficit disorder do. In fact, most of my coworkers make fun of me when I'm working on something because I am completely oblivious to what is going on around me. So maybe that is the problem: if I am used to being able to concentrate so hard, I really notice it when I can't do it.
Several of my Portuguese friends sent me messages to ask if everything was OK in my neck of the woods. One could say that I am living in a bubble. None of this instability has affected me, but, of course, I have had my share of uncertainty in my life, so it was bound to happen that I'd be unaffected by something one day. I cannot say that it feels good to be in a good situation because one of my first reactions was survivor's guilt, since I know I am fairly good at navigating uncertainty and I feel sorry for those that aren't. But we all have to learn.
Anyway, the counselor gave me some homework. I am supposed to use an app called Covid Coach to help me deal with stress, so I'll set aside some time tomorrow to learn the ropes of this thing.
terça-feira, 2 de junho de 2020
Version 2.029
The riots are escalating across the country, but in order to become a better country, we must give up what we are today. The basis of all creation is destruction.
I do not believe we will see a de-escalation soon and I expect we will continue this process until after the election. If Donald Trump wins, many people will be upset about it; if he loses, his supporters will be upset and Trump will spent over two months undermining the President-elect, although there is also a good chance that he will refuse to step down. And considering that he plans on holding rallies during the campaign and nobody will be wearing masks, he could also become ill before the election, which would create a new conspiracy theory and God knows what else.
Anyway, June 1 is the beginning of hurricane season and June is a special month for African-Americans. June 19, 1865 is the date in which Texas recognized the emancipation of slaves, so this date, referred to as Juneteenth, is known as Freedom Day, Black Independence Day, Jubilee Day, and Cel-Liberation Day.
In 1865, in Galveston, TX, the following announcement was read aloud:
So anything can happen between now and the end of this presidential term.
I do not believe we will see a de-escalation soon and I expect we will continue this process until after the election. If Donald Trump wins, many people will be upset about it; if he loses, his supporters will be upset and Trump will spent over two months undermining the President-elect, although there is also a good chance that he will refuse to step down. And considering that he plans on holding rallies during the campaign and nobody will be wearing masks, he could also become ill before the election, which would create a new conspiracy theory and God knows what else.
Anyway, June 1 is the beginning of hurricane season and June is a special month for African-Americans. June 19, 1865 is the date in which Texas recognized the emancipation of slaves, so this date, referred to as Juneteenth, is known as Freedom Day, Black Independence Day, Jubilee Day, and Cel-Liberation Day.
In 1865, in Galveston, TX, the following announcement was read aloud:
The people of Texas are informed that, in accordance with a proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of personal rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and hired labor. The freedmen are advised to remain quietly at their present homes and work for wages. They are informed that they will not be allowed to collect at military posts and that they will not be supported in idleness either there or elsewhere.
So anything can happen between now and the end of this presidential term.
segunda-feira, 1 de junho de 2020
Version 2.028
Another day of violence and yet, in my corner of the world, the sky is bright blue without any clouds. Sometimes, I hear a pop and I wonder if it's a gunshot. Today's pop, heard while walking in Nashoba Park, was too loud; probably some kids playing with fireworks, as that season is upon us.
At 10 AM, my Houston girlfriends and I had scheduled brunch via Zoom. Maybe I had given the impression of being anti-social -- it's odd to be perceived as anti-social during a pandemic --, but I was asked to organize the call, which was my first time being a host in Zoom. It was not very intuitive, but I got it done.
I got behind walking Julian this morning and, by the time I got home, I had barely 15 minutes to fix my brunch: poached egg with prosciutto, asparagus, and gluten-free bread. I even managed to make an Americano and be ready on time to begin hosting the call. Nobody else was having brunch, just me. I suppose I am too literal, but we had talked about brunch and I had made sure to include "brunch" in the title for the call.
After lunch, our neighborhood hosted the annual Homeowners' Association meeting outdoors, in the park with the gazebo. We were asked to wear masks and take a lawn chair. Since I gave away my lawn chair last year, I did a quick trip to Target to buy one and also get some fruit, which I was almost out. I would say one third of the people in the store were wearing masks.
Some of the aisles' floors were marked with arrows to indicate the flow of traffic, but I kept forgetting to follow the directions. However, I had tied my hair, was wearing a mask and hat, and I used three cart wipes to clean the cart again, after an attendant had already done it, and clean my hands. It is hard to shop without touching things, but at least, my hands were very clean.
In the HOA meeting, my neighbors did not recognize me. Besides the hat and mask, I also wore sunglasses for good measure. For most of the meeting, I sat in the sun and I just opened an umbrella for shade. Everytime I go out to a place where I need to be a considerable amount of time, I always wear so much gear that I feel like I could be part of the 1975 TV show "The Invisible Man". And the darndest thing is that nobody laughs at me, even though I look absolutely ridiculous.
My Memphis girlfriends had scheduled a dinner at Coastal Fish Company for today. I ended up not going, as I did not feel comfortable being in a restaurant for a couple of hours, even though it was in the patio. Over the last few weeks, I have begun to socialize more closely with one of my neighbors and I am even allowed in the house. Her mother is 85, so I would feel terrible if I were to get sick and make her sick. Plus, if I were to get sick, I don't even know if my immune system would be up to par, as I have an autoimmune disorder. When in doubt, be careful going out...
At 10 AM, my Houston girlfriends and I had scheduled brunch via Zoom. Maybe I had given the impression of being anti-social -- it's odd to be perceived as anti-social during a pandemic --, but I was asked to organize the call, which was my first time being a host in Zoom. It was not very intuitive, but I got it done.
I got behind walking Julian this morning and, by the time I got home, I had barely 15 minutes to fix my brunch: poached egg with prosciutto, asparagus, and gluten-free bread. I even managed to make an Americano and be ready on time to begin hosting the call. Nobody else was having brunch, just me. I suppose I am too literal, but we had talked about brunch and I had made sure to include "brunch" in the title for the call.
After lunch, our neighborhood hosted the annual Homeowners' Association meeting outdoors, in the park with the gazebo. We were asked to wear masks and take a lawn chair. Since I gave away my lawn chair last year, I did a quick trip to Target to buy one and also get some fruit, which I was almost out. I would say one third of the people in the store were wearing masks.
Some of the aisles' floors were marked with arrows to indicate the flow of traffic, but I kept forgetting to follow the directions. However, I had tied my hair, was wearing a mask and hat, and I used three cart wipes to clean the cart again, after an attendant had already done it, and clean my hands. It is hard to shop without touching things, but at least, my hands were very clean.
In the HOA meeting, my neighbors did not recognize me. Besides the hat and mask, I also wore sunglasses for good measure. For most of the meeting, I sat in the sun and I just opened an umbrella for shade. Everytime I go out to a place where I need to be a considerable amount of time, I always wear so much gear that I feel like I could be part of the 1975 TV show "The Invisible Man". And the darndest thing is that nobody laughs at me, even though I look absolutely ridiculous.
My Memphis girlfriends had scheduled a dinner at Coastal Fish Company for today. I ended up not going, as I did not feel comfortable being in a restaurant for a couple of hours, even though it was in the patio. Over the last few weeks, I have begun to socialize more closely with one of my neighbors and I am even allowed in the house. Her mother is 85, so I would feel terrible if I were to get sick and make her sick. Plus, if I were to get sick, I don't even know if my immune system would be up to par, as I have an autoimmune disorder. When in doubt, be careful going out...
Subscrever:
Mensagens (Atom)