And the weather girl was saying on the news, yesterday, that the heatwave was over for now, even though the temperature will reach 32ºC over the next few days – pure terminology meant to fool those who love to believe in the lies told by the press. “Take 20 Covid shots, it’s safe”, “don’t use plastic straws, they are killing the turtles”. So many lines of narrative… I’m feeling like the stupid person on the planet for having believed in them for so long.

I was always repeating something I heard; my beliefs were based on things I liked to hear. How come I didn’t think for myself and let others lead me and use me as a tool to spread their jibber-jabber? Am I still doing it?

The hours I used to spend “fighting” on and off the internet for nonsense beliefs and political ideology… But the worst part, the one that really pisses me off, is that I left the cave by myself, without help, while the ones around me insist on staying there, and those same ones are the ones bothering me today for not having an opinion that matches theirs – I’m such an outsider.

I can not ‘not like’ the way men are diminished so female characters can be elevated. I can’t ‘not have’ an opinion, here in Brazil, about which president (Bolsonaro or Lula) is the nation’s true savior. I can’t say I don’t have a political side, because that makes me one of those useless people who are helping “the wrong politicians” to be elected – none of them care about us, you morons!

Those still in the cave actually believe “the president” is worried about whether poor people have or don’t have meat on their plate. They swear to God that if this or that candidate wins, things will be different, that the injustice will finally come to an end. The crying on Twitter that happened when Trump won… and the same crap happened previously, when Biden was chosen as the U.S. president. Why don’t we, I don’t know, take care of our own business? Go learn a new language (hire me, please), paint your house, study history, not current affairs – sports are a good way to stay healthy and away from the lies meant to turn you into a modern zombie.

I am tired of people trying to mold my beliefs of ‘right and wrong’. I am exhausted from the blindness that prevents one from seeing that there is more than one side to every story. “Can’t you think for yourself?” is all I can think about nowadays – maybe having critical thoughts is too much for any individual to accomplish. And how can I even ask for such a thing? Don’t I have empathy for those tweeting about how bad their lives are because the opposition won this election? I can’t help but wonder if we were all always this messed up, or if this is a 21st century problem.

I’m torn between loving Road Trip With a Vampire and hating it. The good catchy moments the author is so good at creating are there, the funniness from the first two books is in this third one too (the chicken restaurant?!), but the rest…

The ‘gods’ thing instead of just one God bothers me all the time – I’m not that evolved to let it go. And it’s not just the witch that believes that many different entities created the world, the vampire does it as well. Guess only those two (who clearly are more evolved than the rest of mankind) are able to see the big picture here, while regular humans in this story (so primitive) refer to Him in the singular form – they say “God” because they are uneducated and outdated and didn’t yet learn the right way.

Now the second point that is killing me is how the author puts men in such an inferior position. In the first book of this series, My Roommate Is a Vampire, the story unfolds from Frederick being unable to live on his own and counting with Cassie to guide him into modern life. As a vampire groupie, I was in ecstasy with that book, especially with the end – Cassie may resolve everything, but Frederick stepped up to try to fix his problems first.

In the second book, My Vampire Plus-One, Amelia has this girlboss-badass way of dealing and solving Reginald’s life and death situation while working in a full time accountant job. She is more active and imperative than Cassie, she has means of her own and a cat, while Cassie was practically a homeless artist in the previous book – I could see myself in both of them, so real that were their personalities. But Zelda, the witch? I haven’t read enough of this third book to know her well, but I’m already aware that she and only she knows what is good in life. If the feminine characters continue to follow this rate, the main character of the next book will be the ultimate feminist – can’t wait to meet her!

This author can make me laugh like no one else; she has this amazing ability where she can write a story that can be both simple and mind-blowing. That said, please enlighten me as to why she and so many other talented writers go deep into this black hole of destroying men as if they belonged to a less evolved species. What did men do to deserve that amount of hate?

Amelia (the accountant) is a swiftie, and I couldn't help but remember that, when Taylor Swift released a new album full of songs written to her fiancé, the “fans” put a lot of effort into taking away her credibility as a songwriter – her music was better when she was a heartbroken woman who liked to expose her previous boyfriends to the judge of society.

Anne Rios

And now I pay for Twitter – it seems fair. I also chopped a chocolate bar to use on yoghurt or to sprinkle on top of fruits, mostly because I’m obsessed with natural food right now. How and when did we stop eating real food and started eating “safe substances”?

I bought sparkling water to mix it with a strong tea. The idea is to make a natural soda and fool my brain while I get used to the original flavour of things provided by Mother Nature. I finished a 500-piece puzzle and started a new one. I spent money on (maybe not so) necessary products – one of them is a resistance band that I’ll use to do exercises every morning.

Aging caught me and, while I’m still alive, I need to pretend that everything is okay. Meditation escaped me once more, and again I need to start from scratch in the hope of living until I am 100 years old, which is not gonna happen if I don’t stop eating so much junk food – as if it was an easy thing to do.

I finished The Wish Collector for the second time. Great book, with a main character who is a man who is not afraid of being a man. And, in that book, there is only one God, and not a bunch of “gods” like the modern literature insists on saying – modern culture already eradicated the family structure, now its goal is to eradicate religion as well – last month I finished The Starless Sea, and that same problem bothered me the entire book.

In Road Trip With a Vampire (I started reading it yesterday), God apparently doesn’t exist either. The main character, Zelda, keeps referring to gods, dear gods, oh my gods, or something like that. I honestly don’t care that much to remember her exact words, and if I hadn’t liked the first two books from this series, I would have given up on reading that nonsense – good thing I downloaded it instead of paying.

I prefer to pay for what I consume (hence the Twitter Premium). I bought a movie ticket for Fantastic Four and downloaded it to watch at home, I buy original Stabilo pens in stores. But that book… I’ll try a few more chapters before dropping it. Oh, and there is the last season of Stranger Things coming up. Why did I start watching it in 2016? Good thing jumping from a bridge wasn’t a thing at that time, otherwise I might have done it along with everybody else just to be part of the gang.

There are so many things in my head at the moment. More crap that I want to buy, more unhealthy desserts that I want to eat. Should I put flyers about my English classes on the bus stop again or should I try to use Twitter to create quality content? It wouldn’t be that difficult given the quality of the content there – God forbid any adult be reasonable on Twitter.

Cemeteries are not the safest places, at least not in São Paulo. You can’t just go there on a “tour” as you would in countries where this tour is actually a tourist attraction. And the poorer the neighbourhood, the more dangerous it would be to place a foot there. It hasn’t always been like that, though. Thirty or forty years ago, to go for a walk in a cemetery during lunch break was a common activity - it was peaceful, and it was safe.

But in the 21st century, the only safest day for adventuring through the gates of this sacred place is November 2nd. They increase surveillance, like if it were a normal thing to protect, during one single day, those who pay their respect to the ones they once loved – apparently, being in pain is not enough punishment to those who are grieving, maybe they need to be mugged as well while trying to leave flowers to those who are not here anymore. 

Maybe, like myself, a ton of history enthusiasts take this opportunity as a chance to see with their own eyes a little of São Paulo’s memory hidden among the graves – not that I know anyone who enjoys doing so.

—

2025 was the second year in a row that I spent walking through the cemetery in my neighbourhood. Last year I didn’t pay much attention because I had to be quick on my visit, but this year I took the time to really look at the graves and the names on them, if only there were names to be read. Remember how I said it was not safe to walk in cemeteries, even during daylight? There is a reason for that.

Criminals are running wild inside those walls, they steal everything that can be sold. Small plaques with individual names, big plaques with the name of the family. You know the little iron gates, through which we can see the coffins? Some of them are gone too, and since people don’t care much about fixing them, they are being replaced by a thick plastic bag or a cheap wooden square. The statues are being destroyed (not by the wind), there are no places to sit and reflect (not even the pictures of the deceased are being spared). The only good thing I can say is that the cemetery was clean – or maybe it was clean on November 2nd, whereas during the other 364 days of the year it remains under broken bottles of cheap wine, used syringes and cigarette butts.

Brazilians have many good qualities, but preserving history (or even liking its history) is not one of them – people here couldn't care less about their past. While I was walking in the cemetery, I noticed a person who was born a few months before the coup that overthrew the Brazilian monarchy and forced the Royal Family of Brazil into exile. I saw countless immigrants, most of them from Italy (the most beautiful graves belonged to immigrants, by the way), and some with surnames that I have never seen in my life. It breaks my heart to see Brazil’s memory becoming such a disposable asset, but what is left for me to do except write all of this? 

When I was a teenager I used to send letters to the people I cared about. E-mail was the most popular way to send “letters” at the time but, as computers were not a thing in my house, I was left with the good old handwritten letters. This personal tradition stopped around 2007 (I was 17), though I still send a few from time to time, not as regularly as I’d like because we have no more post office boxes on the street.

Those boxes were all removed, probably at the same time that WhatsApp became a thing, but to be honest that’s just guessing – I have no idea when Correios (Brazil’s Post Office) ended the boxes where once upon a time letters were left to be delivered – you could also buy stamps in stores that sold notebooks and pens. Today you need to go to an agency to post the letter, or you can just print the stamp at home and pay someone to take the letter to Correios – the stamp, printed in your house or at the agency, will simply be a boring QR code (you can buy a fake stamp and glue it to the letter, though, no one will mind).

That's modernity, and if you’ll allow me to speak freely, I don’t like it very much. Sure, advances in medicine are huge, not having to stay in line to pay a bill in the bank is great, having washing machines the size of our hands is a big step for housewives when we consider that 200 years ago everything was washed by hand. Should I feel guilty for holding on to the way things were made before? Maybe failing to keep up with innovations can be considered retrograde, but come on, I can’t be the only one missing the warmth that all technology took away from us.

And if I have to be the only one rescuing old traditions, then so be it. I am going to keep using a broom to clean my balcony, I am going to use my hand to write letters to those I admire or who are part of my life – fortunately some of them have a public company address where the letters can be sent. In the old days (10 years ago), people used to rent P.O. Boxes, and the address was on their Instagram profile, visible to whoever wanted to send them gifts (or letters). Today you have to ask for the address via DM message, without much hope of getting a reply.

Now, since there is no Correios agency next to my house, and I don’t want to trust anyone with my letters, an Uber will be called using my ‘go-out phone’, the one I take with me on the streets because, let’s face it, this is São Paulo, and you are always in the imminence of losing your belongings. Also, I just want you to know that I don't write letters with the intention of creating a movement of rebels who hate the modern age, but because I miss the tenderness and the beauty of the things we leave behind as time cruelly changes our perception of everyday life.