Hanging by a moment

Forgive my English, dear reader. It may seem to you quite raw compared to all those beautiful English books that you have, for sure, read. To speak the truth, I have never wished to learn this language, but I did.

My mama was really beautiful as far as I can remember. Her voice, however, I remember quite well, it was the most wonderful voice. I still know all the songs she taught me, but now I can't sing them anymore. They say this kind of songs were never suited for such a young, naive girl.

They also say I must behave, I must be a good girl and read the Bible. They ask me for specific passages in the convent and they want me to recite the prayers. My mama never asked me to read the Bible, she asked me to dance. She could dance as well, and how could she! All the men and women would stop just to get a glimpse on her. Her long blond hair tidied in a beautiful hairdo and her big brown eyes... when she looked at me, she seemed to really see me. She used to say “Mon petit” and kissed me on the cheeks, then on the forehead and for the last, on my nose.

One day I woke up and couldn't find my mama. They said she ran away, but I could not believe in such a lie. I was left with nothing and lived for a while with my mother's neighbor. Until Mr. Rochester came.

♣

Mrs. Smith was a very unusual woman. First of all, we knew that it wasn't her real name, but she liked to be called like that. Her hair was black and long, her skin was darker than ours and her eyes were very different, so small. She never told me where she was from, but I listened to her talking to my mother one day and she told her that once she loved a man. He brought her here and she promised herself to him for eternity. Until the day he died.

Compared to Mrs. Smith, my mother had a real good life, her apartment was very well furnished and she used to receive many gifts. Mrs. Smith could not sing well, neither dance. Mama used to say her unusual features made her money and that is all.

When I lived with Mrs. Smith, she wrote a letter to Mr. Rochester and told me soon I'd have a good life, a better one. She said she didn't want me to follow my mother's steps.

Soon after, Mr. Rochester went to Paris, he and Mrs. Smith talked for what seemed hours. Then, he got my baggage and told me to get in the carriage. He was not friendly, nor happy. After a while, the carriage stopped again. A young lady got in, she was about 17. Mr. Rochester told her “This is the young girl you're going to look after”. She nod her head and everything was silence again.

♣

I guess there isn't much to tell for those first few years in Mr. Rochester's house. He was always away and when he came, it was for few days and he didn't seem quite happy to be there, but he always bought me dresses and ribbons. He'd give it to me, ask for a hug and sat on the arm chair near the fireplace with the dog. There he read a book and once in a while would look at me. The way he looked at me was not the same way my mother looked at me. When Mr. Rochester eyed me, he eyed somebody else, somebody that brought him pain, I'm sure. I wondered for a long time if my mother did something to him, however now I know. The pain was not only from my mother, the pain was there, living inside him. For all the things he said and did.

♣

Things started to change when my governess, Miss Eyre, arrived. I noticed that Mr. Rochester was happier than usual and he also stayed for longer than usual. He once told me when he was near the fireplace that our lives were about to change, no more governess, no more nurses. I liked my nurse and I liked my governess, why would he change everything?

And things did change. It was a normal day of learning, Miss Eyre and I went to the library, and then she told me something I could not believe. She and Mr. Rochester were about to get married! At first I didn't know how to react, would that mean that I would lose my governess and nurse? Yes, but it would also mean that Miss Eyre would be the closest thing I'd have for a mother. And I'd like to have a mother. I was so happy!

♣

Oh, happiness! I think happiness was never meant to be mine. On the day of the marriage, something terrible happened. I was not in the church, but my dear nurse told me everything. They said Mr. Rochester was already married, that he had his wife locked in the attic for all this time and that she was a crazy woman from the West Indians. The servants were gossiping this story over and over again, I even heard one of them saying: “Poor, naive girl, doesn't she know that happiness is not for us? Doesn't she know that we already have our place in society and there's no way to change it?” and then “What about this girl from the West Indians? They say she is very pretty, even thought her hair is messed and her clothes are old. But why locking something that even crazy is so beautiful to look at?”

I guess everything was too much for Miss Eyre, she ran away the next morning. And again it was just us in Thornfield. Us and Mr. Rochester's mad wife.

I don't remember how long it took, but in one night, I smelled smoke and a bright light was coming out of the room. Mr. Rochester came in running, he was desperate, he took me in his arms and carried me outside, my nurse was right behind us. And when outside, he made sure everybody was there. But someone was missing, he turned back to Thornfield, and he saw what all of us saw, fire and death all over the place. I screamed and begged him to not enter there again, he was the only one I had now, I couldn't lose him either. He grabbed me in his arms, hugged me so tight for the first time, and said “I can't live in guilty anymore”. After this I can only remember seeing him going inside the castle. I fainted.

♣

When I woke, I was in a carriage. It took me directly to the convent I am today. My nurse came with me, she said that Mr. Rochester was badly injured but he was being taking care now and I had to be somewhere else. No words for the mad woman, but I understood she could not be saved. My nurse said she was going back to Paris, now that she had saved some money and could help her parents there. She hugged me and told me to be a good girl.

Through the years, I received few letters from Mr. Rochester. It was not his handwriting, but he said he was well and soon would visit me. He never came.

♣

I was alone for quite sometime. The girls here made fun of my accent, the nuns were mean and said there was no room for a courtesan's daughter. I don't know where they heard this, but they said that was what I was. I never complained, never wrote to Mr. Rochester telling about this. Somehow I knew he was more miserable than me, I just had no idea how much.

That was my life so far, until this morning. One of the youngest nuns was send to me in the kitchen. She said I had a visit, she was arrogant but I was used to it. When I arrived to the living room, Miss Eyre, I mean, Mrs. Eyre was sitting on the couch. She was beautiful, smiling at me and said in French: “It's good to see you, Adele”

When I told her how everything had turned out, how was my treatment in that convent and how I missed everybody from Thornfield, specially Mr. Rochester, she smiled at me and said: “Your father has been through a lot during his life. But now he is all right, you'll see Adele, things will change for the best. You and I are going back, you'll see the beautiful castle you're going to live in and there will be no more nuns telling you who you are supposed to be.”

And so we did.

By Marcella Narvaes

Then, and only then, happy again by Maçao Filho

Fanfic style story based on the character Rochester from the novel Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte


Unmistakably, it was her and of that I was sure in the very moment my eyes met hers. No other woman in the world could ever resemble all her features quite so perfectly. No disguise could ever reproduce faithfully enough those features that I knew so well and that were so dear to me, like freedom to a man long imprisoned when he is, at last, set free. I would finally hold my Jane in the very arms of mine and everything would be like it was supposed to be. Just a few steps separated me from happiness itself.
Or so I naively thought right before the merciless reality took it all away from me. It had happened again. Another dream like all the others. Just another cruel joke the sleep had played on me. None of it was real. Jane Eyre’s whereabouts remained painfully unknown. And even if she had indeed returned to put all my misery to an end, my eyes would not have been able to meet hers, neither would have been my arms to hold her the way I so badly long to do – for I am now not only blind but a cripple.
Once so proud and independent Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester. Now just a man doomed to live surrounded by nothing but never-ending darkness, with no one by my side but two servants, whose feelings of pity for me only make the burden heavier for my broken soul to bare it. A downfall that could be easily seen as a punishment sent from God Himself or, at least, as an undoubtful sign that if He does not want to condemn me for my faults, He does not wish to make things any better for me either.
Though quite aware of all the sins I have committed, I cannot help the feeling that if someone is to blame for everything that happened to me, my brother and father sure deserve each a fair share of it. For there is no denying that all of my ruin started because of their greed and that jinxed wedding. They were the ones that sentenced me.
If only I had never married Bertha Mason, then everything could have had turned out so much differently than it did. But what’s the point in thinking such foolishness? Since there’s no changing what has already happened, I probably should be more worried about my present, instead of looking back at all the things that went so wrong. Too bad that my current circumstances seem to be just as hopeless as my past.
Upset for being once again trapped in the chain reaction caused by those dreams, I reached for my watch on the nightstand next to my bed. It was something I did out of habit, just because it somehow gave me some sense of normality. I had promised to myself I would stop doing it for it was by all means useless after all. But I just didn’t have the strength to give it up just yet. I would not let that be taken away from me too.
Unwillingly aware that the watch could not tell my blind eyes how far in the dead of night all that was taking place, I tried in vain to make sense of it on my own. What troubled me was the fact that Ferndean is rather too quiet a place in any time of the day, indifferently to the passage of the hours and the sun. So there was nothing in the overwhelming silence that could help me situate myself the way I wanted to. I only assumed the sun had not yet risen because that my injured eyes could still vaguely tell.
Pilot did not seem to be anywhere near the bed since I could not hear him breathing, but that was not of much help either. My loyal dog no longer puts a lot of effort into being around me the way he did before. In spite of all his affection for me, it is clear that the poor animal feels unease in my presence after the accident – a behavior that is probably due to the fact that my bad temper has only gotten worse ever since.
Something similar can be said about old John and his wife, Mary. Both are always trying their best to be useful, efficient and kind, which is exactly what upsets me the most: having to be taken care of by a couple of servants, like some old invalid man on his deathbed. They usually help me keep some track of time, especially by bringing me the candles I ask for when I sense that the sun has set. That, though, pretty much sums up all that I accept from them: following my orders. They know I rather be left alone with my thoughts instead of dealing with the constant attendance of servants.
What they cannot understand and neither can anyone else is that all of this is far more than I can handle. I cannot stand the feeling of being held captive inside of my own mind but at the same time I do not see a way out of this prison. Sometimes I fear that I might be turning crazy like her, the woman I once called my wife. I wonder if this is some kind of repayment for keeping her in the attic of Thornfield like a prisoner.
But then again, wasn’t she a threat to herself and everyone else? Or is that what I like to tell myself to justify all that happened and all that I have done? I also thought I was doing the right thing when I tried to lead Jane to marry me and the ultimate result was losing the only woman that I truly love and that loved me in return. Taking such things into consideration leaves me wondering more and more often if God is not indeed trying to teach me some lessons about all my former mistakes and their reasons.
Sadly, though, my faith is yet far too little and fragile. I do not have enough of it to keep me safe from all the feelings, memories and thoughts that haunt me untiringly. I have been nothing but a ghost, a faded shadow of my former self, ever since the fire and the absence of my beloved took away everything that used to give my existence a meaning. I just keep on living a life just like that: waiting alone in the darkness, eager for some light that will set me free, while knowing that no sun rising in the horizon shall bring me back my angel, for it seems now that she will only return to me in dreams.
Human and still in love as I am, I did that night what I did in all the ones before, I rested my head against the pillow and closed my eyes, waiting for the miracle of being able to see her and hold her again in my sleep, for only then I could feel happy again.

CHASING PAVEMENTS by Amanda Benites and Ketwly Martens

Fanfic style story based on the character Adele from the novel Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

As I looked through the window, some children were playing outside in the rain. It seemed that they did not know that life was hard and that one day they would grow up and have to face their future. Oh the youth! I had so much energy back at the time, so many things I did and the best thing is I don’t have a single regret. Now, I am almost 80 years old, moreover my memory is not as good as once was, but somehow the rain outside reminded me the summer I went to Paris looking for the answers about my past.
After I finished school, I went back to Ferndean, my so called home and I started to ask questions about my past, but no one would answer me, he somehow was ashamed to talk about my mother. Mr. Rochester said, she was a French singing girl, who left me alone with a strange family for a man who had quite good fortune. That answer, clearly, did not satisfy me.
When I was growing up I would always catch myself thinking, why did she leave me? Did I do something bad? Did she not love me? I was always wondering how my life would have been if I had had a mother, in fact, the closest person that came to be like a mother to me was Jane, who was always kind to me. Later on, I wanted to know more about my past; since no one would help I decided to ask permission to Mr. Rochester, to go to France to look for my mother. He denied my request right away, but Jane with her kindness managed to change his mind. He was always sweet when Jane was around; and because Jane did not have a mother of herself she understood me very well.
After a long ride of carriage, I got to Paris and went looking for the address that Mr. Rochester gave me; it was where he last saw my mom working. Then, when I got to the Hotel and asked around they said that there was never a woman singing in there, it was a new building and owner and no one knew anything about a singer called Celine, so I decided to find a hotel to spend the night and the next morning I would try to find her.
While walking on the streets of Paris on a raining day, I was enchanted by the beauty of that city; it looked even prettier when it was raining. But suddenly the distraction faded away and a thought came to my mind: “this is crazy, I don’t know anything about this woman, and I don’t even know where she lives or if she is alive”. However, I had travelled so far, to get the answer I always wanted, I could not give up, although I was felling lost since I left Paris very young.
Time was going by too fast, and I had already spent a month looking for my mother, going to places that, maybe, she would have worked but I could not find any leads of where she was, she seemed to have had disappeared. I start to doubt, was coming to Paris a good decision? Maybe Mr. Rochester was right, it was not worth it. I asked myself should I give up or should I just keep chasing my pavements? Maybe it would not lead anywhere but who knew what the future could bring it.
One day I decided to go one last time to the Hotel where she was last seen, and as I stare at that beautiful building an old man was sitting in the side selling candies and we started talking. Before I knew, I was telling him about my life and whom I was searching for. So that’s when he asks if my mother was the beautiful Celine, whom used to sing and had a lot fun with men. He starts telling me that after she left her job and ran away with a man, which did not work out as she expected. He did not treat her right, and since she was an independent woman she left him and came back to the city. She got her job back, but she was not the same anymore.
Nobody knew what had happened to that beautiful and powerful woman that once made many men looked at her when she was passing by. He said that she used to drink a lot, and when she was drunk she talked about a little girl that she had and did not care about. No one knew if that story was true or not, since when she was sober she denied it. I do not know if she was ashamed of what she had done, or was scared of the true. The old man said that she worked there for a while, until the place was sold. After that she was never seen again.
I never found my mother and I never got the answers that I needed. Some people said that the famous Celine was killed in a carriage accident, or killed by a lover of jealousy, or she was living in nurse home. I guess we´ll never know what truly happened, since I never found her, but in the end it did not matter who my mother was, but who I had become over the years. I decided to stay in Paris and study music. I had a great carrier as a piano player and one of the nights I was playing, I found the man who could love me for who I was and we lived happily for many years. After he died, once a week I started holding a poker game and drinks for the ladies at my house. We had fun, remembering the old good days of our youth. I guess the old habits never end.

8º Festival de Cinema de Maringá

The 8º Festival de Cinema de Maringá started last friday (20) and this year's edition approachs a very important  subject: Education. It is shown the way education is made in schools, in people's houses and neighborhood, on the streets and everywhere around.
In the agenda, we can find a lot of good stuff, such as short-films, feature-films, discussions on specific themes and workshops about cinema. The films are showing our culture, art and history in a very peculiar way and making every small actor or even ordinary people look like movie stars. It is a good way to spend the time, especially to see how cinema and education easily walk on the same road.

Pery de Canti organises the festival one more time and, different from the previous editions, it is happening in more than just one place this year. It is possible to watch the sessions in Vila Santo Antônio (on the square), Jardim Alvorada (at the Social Center), Shopping Catuaí and UEM (near Restaurante Universitário). UEM is still the main scenary for the event and the only place where the presentations start at noon and the discussions happen.

In the end of the Festival, all the films compete: there are 35mm and digital short and feature-films, fiction, documentary, animations and experimental films. In 2010 212 films were subscribed, 183 short-films and 29 feature-films; 37 were chosen.

The Festival ends up on May 27th.

Welcome to a paradise

João Pessoa, the capital of Paraíba, is the third oldest city in the country and was classified by the ONU in 1992 as one of the greenest cities in the world. It offers to the tourist 10 beaches of clean and calm waters. It has a rare historical patrimony. The city is the eastern extreme of the Americas, where the day comes earlier than anywhere else in Brazil.

There are many hotels, hostels and inns in João Pessoa, the city has camp sites too. So, everybody can find a good accomodation because there are many options.

People can stay in the beaches every morning, playing football and frescobol that is like a beach tennis, walking near the sea, sunbathing, eating or drinking something in a bar near the beaches.

Young people can go out at night to the bars in the beaches or to a nightclub. There are also many shopping centers where they can watch a movie or eat something. In January, occurs the “Summer Festival Paraíba”, the best shows that warms up your summer in the biggest and best summer festival of Brazil. It’s a good option to the young people.

Older people can visit some of the important buildings in the baroque style that exist in the old town center and the Station Science, Culture and Arts, designed by Oscar Niemeyer that was inaugurated in 2008.

Every evening, on the bars near the Paraíba River, you can see the sunset with the sound of Ravel’s Bolero.

There are fairs with local crafts and the famous “Craft Market” that has more than 120 stores which attracts the tourists.

The “Mangai” is an obligatory stop for tourists who visit João Pessoa because this is the best restaurant of typical food of the region. There you can find many exotic dishes.

Certainly, João Pessoa is a very good choice of holiday because there are many beaches, bars, shoppings, important buildings and tourist points. You can relax and enjoy a lot a trip like this.

Mad Men

I’m not exactly a TV series lover, actually I hardly ever watch TV. That’s why I had to do some researches on the Internet in order to find any series that I could possibly enjoy and, as a part of my English class activities at university, report my experience with it here. Guess what? I’ve found what I was looking for!

“Mad Men” might not please everyone’s taste; it is set in an advertising agency during the 1960’s, which means it has lots of historical references, old-fashioned vocabulary and its characters have some odd and unacceptable behavior for nowadays patterns. But the possibility to get to know more about one of the most influential decades to the western civilization’s behavior is exactly what got me interested in watching it.

Women were confronting the hollowness of their housewife lives, they were looking for career opportunities; whereas men were sexist, adulterous, racist and homophobic. The show description is very clear: "Ethics in the workplace, smoke-free environments, sexual harassment and ethnic diversity were workshops of the future." But all of that were about to change during the 1960’s, a decade of transformations.

Mad Men is an adult drama, an anthropological and character study but, of course, it has some moments of dark humor. For me, it’s been worth watching it.

http://www.amctv.com/shows/mad-men

We are the future

Today I was wondering how I could contribute in this blog without writting too much and doing things in a tiring way. The thinking process which made me choose what I choose is not something which someone would get interest. So let us go to the point.

As things goes on in our classroom and University I believe that education has to be thought and re-tought on and on. I'll post a link about "It's noon" network. I have presented a seminary about this at UEM but unfortunately just few fellows understood what it was about. "It's noon" is a new way of realizing the education process - by using technology and all the tools available.

This video is about a workshop for English teachers that took place in London. http://www.youtube.com/user/ProjetoEGO?feature=mhum#p/c/1/sHa9k0hX-Zk


At http://itsnoon.net/eletrocooperativa/ you can find something interestin for your life as teachers.