Three Stories

The perfect therapy

dedicated to Ana Maria Figueiró, Deanna, Rogerio Dantas, Janna Chimeli, Brian, Zina, and all my psychologist friends

“De tua boca não sairá palavras torpes.”

It took me 13 years to find out that the perfect therapy is not in the therapist's office. Actually, it is outside anywhere; the secret to a non stressful word is to keep things out of you. I agree that it is not as simple as it may seem, but it is true.

Following this stream of thoughts, someone that is a psychoanalyst would say that is the very reason why one goes to sessions and speak the issues out. Sure! But there is more included in the process of psychoanalysis: a lot of money. It is worth it, however. But there is something cheaper and yet successful.

Here's the thing: You need to speak. Does that need include someone to listen to you? If you thought positively, think about the necessity of this person being someone you know. Another thing to think about is the necessity of the listener being human.

Is this becoming weird? Hands on! Grab your bike, motorcycle, Jeep, rollerblades, or a pair of sneakers and walk towards a very beautiful place you know. Make sure it is not a crowded place – except if you choose to go to Mineirão and watch a soccer match, which will at some point make you be in touch with your inner self – if you don't know what I mean: be completely lonely.

That done, bring to your consciousness all the bad words you know. Then, start talking about what bothers you. In some seconds you will notice the bad words coming out of your mouth. Shout them out. Go on! Don't be shy.

You will notice sudden laughter in the place of tears normally dropped. And as you exercise your body more and more, and shout louder and louder, you will have a strong feeling of being lighter than ever. You are actually losing weight!

By the end, you will either have the feeling that was the best moment of your life, or you will be arrested for interrupting the social order. Who cares? Either one would be a nice story to tell your grandchildren.

And by the way: fuck the police! What the hell? Can't I fucking shout when a son of a bitch hurts my fucking feelings? Screw that! Social order my ass! It is all a fucking chaos, anyway. And who was the ass hole that stole Diamond's lights? Go to hell!

the other image was rated

Ufa...!!

Let's not be afraid of words.

(Please don't get me wrong, I am totally for therapy, and a big fan of psychoanalysis.)

The perfect therapy

part 2

dedicated to my new friend Eduardo and his wife Jill

Talking of which, I was discharged from therapy. Would it be a coincidence that happened after all the cursing and my vows to Diamond?!

As you all know by now, Diamond is an important character in my life. Last Sunday we spent five hours together. Eduardo and his red Trek came along for this really beautiful ride to Nelsonville.

Therapy! I didn't shout, because poor Eduardo has nothing to do with all my frustrations – well, he is going to start writing his thesis, maybe we should shout together – I sweat.

It was 12:30 when we met at the bike shop and started our journey. Since I discovered the bike rout, I have wanted to go all the way to it's very end. There we went. Eduardo, even with his practice, was very patient with this beginner. “You set the rhythm” I heard. Cool! I was afraid I would have to bike my lungs off to follow him.

People walking their dogs, families riding together, and us: Two Brazilians riding on the road in Athens, speaking in Portuguese and telling each other about who we are and where we come from.

“On your left”! That is what we shout when we see slow people in our way. Watch out! Because there are two of us wanting to go, and we will.

We did.

A brief stop at the old rail road and then at the old train.

We continued, because we have set the goal. When in town, Nelsonville, we went to the gas station for some fuel: Gatorade, apple juice, chocolate, chips, and ice with some water.

It was 5:30; actually almost six o'clock when I was back home all dirty, sweaty, and stinky. It only took me a shower and some food to fall asleep.

I guess that is also one of the best therapies: friend, talk, and sweat.

Yeah! Next time I expect Jill to come with us. And how about you; would you like to join us?

Before our duties

Hannah is back to school for two weeks now. My classes started last Tuesday. We are back to our duties. She is now in second grade, learning some Social Science, Math, Science, and all the other subjects. She actually has big textbooks now. Thirty dollars. Oh how I wish I was in elementary school! Not really. Only for the book prices! Mine are way more expensive, and I have to print many articles to read. I guess that is how it works: the higher the level, the more we spend. I was talking to Julieta, my Argentine friend, and both of us expressed the fact of never being so financially broke in our lives as we are now in grad school.

Before being “full power” dedicated to our responsibilities, Hannah and I took a day off to walk around town. I am now introducing her to the physical activity world; it is actually working.

It was Labor day here in United States – the first Monday of September – and we didn't know it, but the buses were not running. But she learns fast: When we have decided to do something, no matter what the obstacles are, we go ahead and do it. Just do it! (didn't receive money for that...)

We visited almost all the stores on Court Street. Not shopping, except for the biker shorts – my butt hurt really bad after the 5 hour ride – and a vintage hair band – my beautiful daughter loves to look even more beautiful!

After walking for some hours, having lunch at one of Hannah's favorite restaurants – the Chinese buffet – and trying to play foosball at baker center, we decided to sit outside Front Room and wait until Mariana – who took us for ice-cream – was ready to go back home.

The result of that moment was the sequence of pictures you are about to see.

I know. You want to see Hannah!

We were late to meet Mariana...