WitchCraft

I have multiple times faced the concept that witchcraft and magic were exclusively female powers, even as a purely theoretical idea, if from the black and white views from the catholic church that ruled my school and declared it of demonic origin, or some television re imagined  idea for a show. Personally I never gave it much credit as it seemed too genderized, a historical social construct, it lost even more weight as I grew up and meet more and more people that didn’t fit in the bipolar spectrum of Male-Female genders…

It does however became a lot harder to ignore when you are being pulled by arm by one as you are running from armed man who seem intent on fill you with holes and she keeps defending the two of you with apparent mere flicks of the hand…

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– Yes, I happen to have reason to believe in the existence of male witches… at least one. should I call it a mage or wiz…

– Shut it, mages are street performers and wizards are fairytales! – the hard faced brunette interrupted me harshly.

– Not strictly saying, Yolanda… there have been records of this so called wizards. Merlin, for certain, possibly the Dee fellow, the big difference however, youngster, is that they didn’t posses the power. Energy didn’t course through their veins. With the proper time, knowledge and rituals any could muster some power, some more than others… Dr Dee claimed his knowledge came directly from the angels. I could claim the same, it doesn’t make it so. That is all you think you know, what you believe exists. The Coven holds the true power, we have magic woven in our beings. – Ulla was a powerful sorceress, she wasn’t young, but she was pretty beyond her years, with a bright red full head of hair, interwoven with traces of bright grey, considering the stories about the extended youth of witches I wouldn’t pretend to be able to tell her age, but the knowledge others claimed her to have was staggering enough.

– I’m sorry Ulla, I though I sensed something in the boy, I…

– Worry not my child, your abilities are still developing, they will fluctuate at times, it’s to be expected. Now let’s erase this one’s memories of this encounter and get ourselves to a safer place, the keeper of Alexia’s wants to show you something Morgana

– Oi! There will be no erasing or reshaping of my mind. – I imposed myself as I stepped backwards – Morgana said you would want to talk, I gotta say safe passage felt pretty much part of that deal!

– No one is harming you, but we can’t allow for a…

– Twenty three is plenty enough to stop being called a boy, I’m not judging any of you by age, can we get on with mutual respect? – I probably shouldn’t have interrupted the most powerful person in the room as we began discussing my rights to leave this place with a fully functioning brain, but it had gotten to me.

– Mutual respect! Have you any idea of what a JOKE that is coming from a “man”? – I felt the insult in that word, not previously present when they were calling me boy. There was despise in her tone.

– Young man, this conversation is pointless – with a flicker of her fist she seemed to bind me to the wall behind me – you won’t remember my arguments and I won’t change my mind either way, – she pulled a fancy dagger from an unseen pocket and stepped towards me – and there’s nothing you can say that will change that.

I was petrified in place, unable to release the scream of dread that was building up in my throat, unsure if by fear or the spell. As she approached she touched the tip of the blade to my temple and uttered a phrase, the two companions in chorus. I closed my eyes expecting the worse, trying to take solace in forgetting whatever painful process was looming. And than:

– What kind of Black Magic is this!?

 

 

 

A Little Case of the Fuck You`s

[PT – BR WARNING! This text is in Brazilian Portuguese, please, if you are interested try translating.]

/////Por que não tem melhor local e hora para ser vítima de assalto do que no ponto de ônibus, tentando retornar para casa depois de um turno de 9 horas.////

Ontem a noite, enquanto saia do trabalho e esperava o último ônibus da noite naquela linha, eu fui assaltado. O ocorrido se deu na Chácara Santo Antônio, Rua Américo Brasiliense, por volta do número 1900.

Um Homem branco, de aproximadamente 30 anos (mais ou menos uns 4 de variação populacional do ibope de margem de erro), usando um boné e vestindo um casaco com capuz por cima me abordou portando uma pistola preta/cinza escura, relativamente curta (uns +-20 cm de comprimento eu suponho) e de cano quadrado, adequadamente posicionada a um par de polegadas na minha respectiva fuça para maximizar a aplicação do terror situacional.

Estávamos eu e o recepcionista do hotel da frente do meu no ponto de ônibus, ambos olhando para a esquerda esperando que o ônibus virasse a esquina, foram abordados, de forma relativamente silenciosa, pela direita. O indivíduo em questão mantinha a pistola escondida dentro do casaco, mas extremamente visível pela vítima, mirada no corpo a princípio. Não testemunhei o crime da minha vítima companheira, mas ele viu o meu.

Eu estava sentado numa porta fechada de loja, com uma mochila entre as pernas, vestindo calça de moletom, regata e casaco de moletom com capuz. Quando vi ele se aproximando ele já estava a um metro de mim e tudo que me passava pela cabeça era: “Não. É piada.”

Ele chegou falando incisivamente “entrega o celular.” Estava calmo e usava o português correto. Estava inclinado para frente e para baixo, provavelmente por me encontrar sentado, e não parou de se aproximar. A princípio eu não tive reação. Como disse, não acreditei. Ele agarrou o celular, com a arma ainda mais próxima dele que de mim, mas ainda muito próxima do meu rosto. Eu estava segurando o celular com força e ele também, ele disse algumas coisas, que não me recordo com nenhuma exatidão, e eu respondi que tinha acabado de sair do trabalho, se ele estava falando sério… Não recomendo essa posição, mas não é o tipo de coisa que se planeja, se reage.

Depois do que parece ter sido um minuto de troca de palavras, nenhuma gritada, ele aproximou mais a arma dos meus olhos e disse “Larga se não eu vou enfiar um tiro na sua cara.” e eu retomei a razão… Era sério; Ele não se importa que você acabou de sair do trabalho. Não importa se você ta vestido de forma esfarrapada e parece um fudido. Não é “Perdeu Playboy” é “Perdeu, azarado, passei por aqui agora onde você estava, eu tenho uma arma você um celular”.

No meu ato de largar o celular ele agarrou a mochila com a mão da arma e saiu correndo de volta para a direita; O rapaz no ponto começou a gritar “POLICIA” e “SOCORRO”, nada, eu, sem noção corri atrás do ladrão gritando repetidamente “Não leva os documentos, por favor, meus documentos não!”.

Nada adiantou de nada. Ele virou a direita na esquina e, quando chegamos na esquina momentos depois um carro atravessou na outra direção da qual ele havia corrido. Não identifiquei o motorista, mas instinto me diz que ele estava naquele carro.

Quem ler o texto vai perceber provavelmente que a única coisa que eu tenho plena certeza de toda a descrição é a arma. Eu nunca tirei os olhos dela, ele cresceu na minha mente, a única coisa que importava, foi quando ela cresceu o bastante para me convencer que era sério e a arma de verdade que eu entreguei… quando ela sumiu, devido ao infrator estar correndo eu tornei a reclamar e responder… e a minha percepção da descrição do mesmo? Eu não vi muito… a arma novamente. Roubou a minha atenção. Eu só sei que ele não estava descalço pelo som das passadas enquanto corria para longe…

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Para quem me perguntou se estou bem… Estou inteiro. E a cada minuto que passa penso em mais alguma coisa que estava naquela mochila. Das chaves de casa e um holerite com meu endereço, ao guarda chuva do MoMA do Stary Night de Van Gogh; da minha Necessaire com tudo que eu uso para ficar pronto pro trabalho na recepção a uma prancheta de viagem com dezenas de textos pessoais, fichas de personagem e ideias que eu a pouco tempo havia resgatado e colocado em uso; A minha carteira com uma dezena de cartões e documentos, de seguro saúde, cartões de banco, carteira de motorista e cartão de visita de um cara que tinha me oferecido um emprego.

Minhas duas vinganças?

– Meu celular eu pude inutilizar mesmo com reinicio de fabrica via um número que informei a policia que o repassa ao fabricante/operadora…

– Ter meras 4 moedas de 1 real na mochila inteira e menos de uma passagem no bilhete único.

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Links e Livros para o Uso do RPG na Escola – RPG e Educação! #nitrodungeon

//PT-BR ALERT// Very interesting, a lot to grow, but great idea. Recomended. Shame it’s limiting to some of you, but “google translate it” to your language and keep moving.

NITRODUNGEON

Muita gente me escreve pedindo material para usar o jogo de RPG na sala de aula, e tento sempre ajudar indicando os links e livros que postei aqui abaixo. Quem souber de mais material que exista em português, coloque nos comentários que vou atualizando esse post! 😀


SITES E TESES

RPG Simples

http://rpgsimples.blogspot.com.br/

RPG na Escola 
http://rpgnaescola.com.br/

Tese sobre RPG e Educação da Universidade de Londrina
http://www.uel.br/pos/mestredu/images/stories/downloads/dissertacoes/2008/2008%20-%20SCHMIT,%20Wagner%20Luiz.pdf

Outra tese, com exemplos de uso de RPG na sala de aula
http://pedagogiaaopedaletra.com/monografia-o-uso-do-rpg-na-sala-de-aula/

Blog RPG Acadêmico – Banco de Teses sobre RPG no Brasil, tem muita coisa!
http://rpgacademico.blogspot.com.br/


LIVROS

RPG NA ESCOLA – Livro Jogo de RPG para ser usado em Sala de Aula (MUITO BOM! RECOMENDO) – Link para compras:

http://rpgnaescola.com.br/livro-rpg-na-escola/

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MARCATTO, Alfeu. Saindo do quadro. São Paulo: A. Marcatto, 1996.

PAVÃO, Andréa. A aventura da leitura e da escrita entre mestres de RPG. Rio de Janeiro: EntreLugar, 1999.

RIYIS, Marcos Tanaka…

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What big eyes you have…!

Did I ever mention I have an eating problem? No… not an eating disorder, I hear those are a real bitch and I think they should be treated seriously, but there’s this other thing, this problem some might have other than me… but I know for sure it haunts ME daily.

I can’t stop eating if it tastes good. I stop as the food ends. Normally it takes me two o three servings, but if there’s food and it tastes good, I won’t stop eating until there’s no physical way to fit any more.

Since the time I was minuscule, when I stoped refusing food, which makes me laugh a bit, I have a bit of a compulsion. I was luck as a kid to have a super fast metabolism, that kept up with me until I was 9, than not so much, and then picked up the pace at 12 and kept me in shape ’til I turned 21.

I had some problematic couple of birthdays following that… “plus 15 kilos” 22nd & “add 20 more” 23rd. My relationship at the time was destructive, with frustrated suicide attempt from her 2 days after that second one up there, and after all the shit had hit the fan, and about 8 months picking up the shit I started working those extra kilos and pounds out of me and came down about 13 cuties  back into some kind of shape.

Of course, I’m nowhere near my in shape self. I still think of myself as a ball compared and I had to add constant salads, avoid desserts (which were never my problem…), cut the soda and a couple more measures…

But I will still eat more or just as much as my counterparts of 130+ kg… I’m the bottomless eater of my friends, one amongst the crazy.

Since I was little, there’s this whole saying about people that want to eat more than they can, that pick servings too large. That they have their eyes larger than their stomachs.

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Personally, my mom would tell me different. The saying would go:

“May God concede you good sight, for stomach you do not lack.”

That’s a fact.

The Mask

image

This is a quick post on the mask…

The life you live for all the others, the life you need to live to allow your heart that little bit of piece you can manage to aquire… the price for the freedom of diving headfirst inside your own solitude and sadness…

The life you get to live is very dependant of the mask you out ob for everyone else, abd that saddens me a bit… but at least we get to be ourselves for sometime.

In this short existence of mine I have come to believe that your real family is the one you build through life, that small group of people with whom you can put down that mask and enjoy laughing over breakfast at 4 am.

Nothing beats spending time with this family you. Abd those moments are what keep my head out of the black waters of absolute depression that constantly threatens me and shake the security behind my faked smiling façade.

To all of you, my fellow swimmers, who survive just a little longer with every arm stroke of your exhausted soaked bodies… it might never end, but it does get easier when you surround yourself of other enduring survivors.

Believe me, I know. I’ve drowned once before, and good friends do pull you to the surface once again and CPR the shit out you.

~Void and Bare

How amazing it would be

If deepcuts in our souls

And scratches in our hearts

Were as simple to heal 

As their counterparts of flesh

 

While hard may it be to see

And old it might feel to hear

Harder still it feels

When advised we beggin to be

To inner void overwhelm

 

Hindered any movement feels

As fearfull we come to be

Of having to live without

These treasured memories of ours

That such delight provide

 

Yet despite hope or dream

No man’s will may alter fact

Seasons turn is in need

For a sheer human’s inner self

To begin to forge ahead

Through halted and blocked path

And oblivion’s rock face edge.

Temeraire

So I’m readding again. 

My life has been having it’s ups and downs, more often than not, and it was tireing for a while some time back… But I’m good right now… and trying to get back up, bringging with me the girl I love.

It was a hard semester, full of failure and hardships… but now we move on. 

I finaly got some new books ready and I’m going at full wind on them. Also playing my x-box whenever I’m free.

I organized a party for celebrating the ridiculous predicment of the end of the world, 6 months, 6 days and, coff coff, “6 hours” before the marked date. I’ll post you guys some pics latter on, but it was quite fun, and I got a real cool fantasy on…

Any way, the book I’m completely entraced by is called Temeraire, and it’s quite awsome. It tells a diferent tale on the napoleonic wars, considering Aerial Corps composed of Dragons on all sides.

 

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The Big Bad Wolf and the Red Riding Hood

He went after her, following her every move, every flap of her cape, eyes locked at the red of her head.

Foolish was the wolf, that actually believed himself to be, even for a moment, the hunter, when all in all he was only following after a bait, oblivious to the trap ahead of him.

She led him thought the forest, disappearing from his view from time to time, but, as he ran on after her, he would always catch a glimpse of her cape turning on this or that tree, under a trunk or over a pile of rocks. And so he would keep up his hunt.

At some point thou, she scaped his tracking, and for a few minutes he found no trace of her… untill he got to an opening in the woods, filled with a house. The door open, and the riding hood hanging inside.

The wolf walks in, happy with himself at his opportunity, smirking and smiling. “The little one knows nothing of whats coming for her.” the wolf thought.

. . .

She was thinking the same thing.

. . .

He attaked.

She fought back.

Wrath over comments

So today I was at 9gag, an incredible photolog for internet humor, and I came upon the following post.

I had seen it before, and it is a big time lack of wits, but I got it, then I simply took a quick look at the comments, and what I saw made me gag.

So some one posted: “please shoot all religious people already… ”

And that by itself was absurd, but sometimes it’s some kind of humor, and the frase itself can be ignored, but then, with 45 comments to this frase, I could not stop reading, and there was a discussion about how that should be done, some people had the senses to talk back, but the voices approving the frase and long speeches about how being religious makes you stupid and retarded and narrow-minded and how being a christian makes you pro-war against Islam.. I don’t know, such stupidity made me feel sick to my stomach, so I replied. I’m sure some will disagree with what I said, but I wanted to post it here.

So what follow was my enraged comment over the stupidity I came across:

“For God, Christ, the Big Bang and Television! Creatures from this planet! Stop being stupid AS WELL!
Faith makes no one stupid. Being Narrow Minded and believing in the exact words from a book written by man a couple thousand years ago and not questioning it, having no thoughts of your own and being aggressive to people who do, THAT is being stupid. At the same time many genius from the past were religious man, many of the developments that led to things we have and know nowadays were made by them.

You guys joking about mass murdering people for their lack of wisdom are being as jack asses as Nazis. Sometimes people just need the chance to study and be guided trough life. Sometimes they never did have the same instruction that you did.

And let it be known that having faith in something bigger never makes you unable to accept scientific facts. Being stupid, ignorant and narrow-minded generates that. And guess what, when you say those kind of things and do those kind o generalizations, well, you are being Stupid and Ignorant.

By the way, awaiting another stupidity, no, I am not religious. I have multiple theistic and atheistic friends and I would smack some sense into them if they said something as stupid as that. Massacres start with those dumb comments.

Well, if I left anything aside or if by any chance I was to harsh, please answer this.”

Well, that’s it. Just wanted to post my annoyance.

Cisv Song

This is very possibly the song I sang the most during my whole life:

“Here in this village you may see
children living happily
Different race and different land
Here we come to understand
one another’s point of view
learning trought the things we do
How alike am I to you

Here we live and eat and sleep,
Talk and laugh and somethings weep;
Here we share our hopes and fears,
Build a bridge across the years,
Sow a seed and plant a tree
Beneath whose branches there may be
All the nations gathered free

That our children so may grow
in a world we did not know,
Sharing all they have to give,
Learning how to love and live.
In our hands the future lies;
Seize the moment ere it flies.
Stamp the present with an act;
Dare to make our dream a fact!”