When in Rome


Every other year about this time I do something I suspect other people do more frequently: I clean out my house. It usually happens when things start getting in the way between my family and me, like yesterday I had trouble finding my father in our living room.

So this morning I decided to call off what I was supposed to do, rolled up my sleeves and worked on my room. To be fair, my bedroom is checked on once a week, but it’s just the usual dusting & sweeping stuff.

What I did today was moving all my things out to the garage and then selecting what was worth keeping (my bed, for instance) and what wasn’t. I sort of like doing it because it means running across items I deemed lost. Like this nice, old When in Rome CD, found this morning behind my dresser.



I sadly realized long ago that I suck at many things, and my not being able to finish reading The Stranger is one of my most outstanding foibles.

Last night, I tried to dig into it for the fifth time, but to no avail.

Now please don’t get me wrong. In my opinion, Camus is one of the most brilliant minds ever. Not only that: few authors have matched his ability to clearly portray the human condition and despair in modern society. His championing of individual freedom and justice is dear to me.

Two passages of his Resistance, Rebellion and Death that I most like are

“It is better to suffer certain injustices than to commit them, even to win wars.”

“I believe only in differences and not in uniformity. First of all, because differences are the roots without which the tree of liberty, the sap of creation and of civilization, dries up.”

The idea, however, of going through a book that depicts this world of us as being hopeless and godless, thus chaotic, is way too much of an effort for me.



Hi there, boys and girls!

On this day in 1812, famous English poet Robert Browning was born in Camberwell, South London.

Here’s the first part of one of my favourite Browning’s poems, Natural Magic:

All I can say is—I saw it!
The room was as bare as your hand.
I locked in the swarth little lady,—I swear,
From the head to the foot of her—well, quite as bare!
“No Nautch shall cheat me,” said I, “taking my stand
At this bolt which I draw!” And this bolt—I withdraw it,
And there laughs the lady, not bare, but embowered
With—who knows what verdure, o’erfruited, o’erflowered?
Impossible! Only—I saw it!

May we all be inspired by this wonderful poet and have a marvelous day, wherever we are. Stay safe!



Sunday’s basically my go-to-church day, so usually I get out of my bed earlier than I should on a normal Sunday, take a quick shower, have my Sunday breakfast (black coffee and whatever leftover from Saturday night), put on my Sunday best and head for church.

Not today. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I woke up later than I should on a go-to-church Sunday.

And now here I am wondering about my church friends wondering about my whereabouts…


Sala de aula


I haven’t told you yet what I do to bring home the bacon.

I’m an English language teacher born and raised in Brazil.

I’m specialized in helping those who can’t afford to spend 2, 3, 4 years in a classroom to realize they can barely utter a few expressions in a conversation with a native speaker.

That’s what I do. I help people speak English outside a classroom.

So I hope you don’t mind if I sometimes use this space to post some tips, activities etc. involving the English language.

I guess that’s it for now, peeps. Talk to you soon.



Greetings, everybody!

So I’m finally blogging and I can’t tell you how excited it is for me to be here.

This is not my first blog – I sort of had an experimental, short-lived blog years ago -, but it feels like I’m doing it for the very first time.

I’ve actually been thinking of writing stuff in a blog (again) for months  and now I feel it’s the right time.

See you!

First post