Sou um Beatlemaniaco. Tudo começa assim... Fiquei reprovado duas vezes no Mobral, mas nunca desisti. Hoje, sou doutor em Parapsicologia formado na mesma turma do Padre Quevedo; sou antropólogo e sociólogo formado, com honra, em cursos por correspondência pelo Instituto Universal Brasileiro. Em minha vasta carreira acadêmica também frequentei até o nono ano de Medicina Cibernética, Letras Explosivas, Química da Pesada, Direito Irregularmente torto e assisti a quase todas as aulas do Telecurso 2000 repetidas vezes até desistir de vez. Minha maior descoberta foi uma fábrica secreta de cogumelos venenosos comestíveis no meio da Amazônia Boreal. Já tive duas bandas de Rock que nunca tocaram uma música se quer. Comi duas vezes, quando criança, caspas gigantes da China pensando que era merda amarela. Depois de tudo isso, tornei-me blogueiro. Se eu posso, você pode também. Sou um homem de muita opinião e isso desagrada muita gente. Os temas postados aqui objetivam enfurecer um bom número de cidadãos.

- [Portal da Língua Inglesa] -

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sexta-feira, 25 de novembro de 2011



By Bruno Coriolano

When I was 10 years old I was given a bicycle as a gift from my parents. That day was one of the best days in my whole life. I had so much fun and finally I could play with my friends – who already had bikes. I rode my bike for many hours and then I stopped to have dinner. During the dinnertime my family and I spent some time together and then I did not have the chance to remember why I was so happy. Something weird seemed to be happening around that table. 

Everybody knows that we almost never stop or forget to say “thank you”. It happened to me that day. While I was so excited about my gift my mother and my father were having an argument. I was too young to understand what was really going on between them in that right moment. Many years after that, I can have an idea of what it was.

My mother and my father were always kind. They were all the time doing whatever it was necessary to make me feel happy. I couldn’t imagine why they started talking like that saying those horrible things to each other.

All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered”. One day I found my mother’s journals and by chance I saw that she had many dreams when she was 10. And I thought “how difficult can it be to understand that other people have wishes as we have too?”

Now I know why my parents had that argument in front of me. They couldn’t afford to buy a bicycle, but they did it anyway. Just to make me happy. That gives me a lesson – learn to value everything people do for you. That gift gave me a chance to dream of bigger things I wanted in life. Because of that bicycle I did not grow up as a frustrated boy. That money my parents spent buying me something was the amount of money they would use to pay the rent that month.

And you can be asking yourself now “what the hell have you seen in that journals?” I saw that mom wanted to have a bicycle when she was a teenager, but her parents couldn’t buy her one. So she grew up with an empty feeling in her heart – a feeling they didn’t allowed me to have.

My mother always dreamed of becoming an Alice of Wonderland. She couldn't become an Alice of her dreams. All she could become was my mother, a mother who strived all her life so that her children were not deprived of their dreams, a mother who fought with our father for our dreams, a mother who cared and dared, both for us ... a mother I was proud to have ... a mother others envied me for having ....
She could never become the Alice of her dreams. She became far greater than that, my mother. Did someone say, dreams are best fulfilled? At times, it is better they remain unfulfilled, just dreams. LIFE is far better than the one we keep dreaming of. So, let us wait for dawn to break, let us look forward to our dreams to shatter, let us get back to this thing called "LIFE"...

Thank you for reading this one. I promise I’ll try to write a new chronicle every other week. I’d like to ask you guys to let me know what you thought about this text. Should I change something, or delete it? Are there any mistakes in this text? Please, whatever it is… let me know. 

Um comentário:

Unknown disse...

That was a nice post. I loved the essence, the story in it. Your english too is very nice. And if you continue writing here in your blog, out there in the Creative Writing community, that will further refine your command over english. Keep writing buddy. Trust me you write extremely well :)