It’s never too late to start again, take another breath and say another prayer.


Like some humans, I have a constant need to be heading somewhere. I am not cut out for the whole “sitting at the porch and waiting for death”  routine. In fact, I am not cut out for routine at all.

As I look at the people around me I cannot imagine how it’s possible that some of them have been coming to the same building, staring at the same desk, and doing the same choirs for over 10 years.

Go to work, go home; Go to work, go home. Repeat a few times. Die. Is that it?

If I were God, I’d interfere… specially since this killer routine refers to the lucky people on this Earth. The ones who have a job and a home to go to.

Shit, that’s messed up. – on my humble opinion.

I wish we could all just wake up every day and think “what kind of exciting new adventure are we having today?” you know… probably the way rich people live – until they realize it’s all so easy and  start doing drugs. But that’s not what I’m writing about today.

Well, I obviously am not rich, so let’s cross that off of my list…

Instead, I decided to make a plan for the future. Not the “one day I might…” kind of future, but this year’s future. I made that decision the other day when I got home and realized life was kind of all figured out and I wasn’t that excited about it.

I was very thankful we were all healthy and happy. Don’t get me wrong! I am oh-so-thankful. Yet, I was surprisingly  bored.

I had had my beautiful daughters, moved to another country, got a pretty decent job, we moved to our first real house (not a basement anymore!) and we finally got a car.

Now what?


I set on the couch and stared at the wall. For some reason I couldn’t enjoy the quiet. I was not quiet inside. I wanted to jump, explore, go somewhere, change the world, bake a cake… just figure out where I was going next! There was no way that couch was my final destination in life even though it was a pretty nice couch with everyone I loved around me. I could stare at my girls forever, but I also wanted to enjoy the ride a little bit more… since we had been blessed with a pretty smooth ride.

I decided I’d learn a new language and visit the oh-so-beautiful French speaking cities in Canada. Who knows… maybe it’ll be love at first sight and we’ll end up moving there.

Hey, Shell… are you projecting your problems into the city you live and thinking that by moving away oh-so-many times you won’t bring your problems with you?

Well, dear reader… I have thought about that and the answer is ” not really”.

I was very excited to leave Brazil and then very excited to leave Ajax. If I couldn’t move anymore I would definitely stay in Ottawa. It is by far the best place we have lived (taking in consideration stuff that is important to our family and  other families might think differently). We are learning about a new place and we have the “privilege” to be alone here, which allows us to move around without having to cut any strings.

For as beautiful as downtown Ottawa is, it does not compare – to me – to Montreal or Quebec. I do like it a LOT better than Toronto… but I’m not in love.

I wanna be in love! And it looks pretty easy… look:


The architect inside be needs to be around very, very old and warm looking buildings and the husband put his foot down on the whole moving to Europe idea (we are greatly afraid of the upcoming world war =/ )… so, that’s it. I need to see it. I need to fall in love with a place before I write our story there. Explore, until we find our new home. Start over. Delete the old entries on this blog.

Sounds like a plan to me!

What will you be doing next?

Visit to the doctor

After sitting on my desk through lunch and having my carbs-free wieners with cheese, I was perfectly content – except of course for the fact that ever since I found out my aunt has ovariun cancer, I’ve been feeling all kinds of pains UNLESS I FORGET TO THINK ABOUT THEM. But this has been my life forever, so there’s nothing I can do about THAT.

This one particular time, when I was 14, I didn’t eat for two weeks because I was so nervous due to a meningites outbreak that was going around that I couldn’t swallow at all. I clearly remember making a huge effort to eat half a yogurt. Since I didn’t eat, my head obviously hurt. I was so dizy I could barely stand up. I freaked at the very thought of getting sick.

So, my mom takes me to this doctor and the doctor says I’m doing it on purpose because I want ATTENTION. I was suffering for days, I couldn’t eat, it was KILLING ME INSIDE and the doctor’s conclusion was that I wanted attention? For real?

And that’s been happening ever since, or even before that.

I have such a great way of controling my body with my mind that I actually “get” sick every time I watch a movie about someone who is sick.

I couldn’t remember a thing for days after watching “Still Alice”.

That’s just my way for seeking for attention, of course. It’s fun and I absolutely do it on purpose.

Good news is I found a doctor that accepted us and I’ll be doing a check up soon. Whenever I find out I’m ok, I just tend to stay away from the thoughts that make my body ache for a few weeks.

If I’m lucky, even months.

My mind and I seriously need to start working together and not against each other.

The nice part was, the girls had a blast. We took the train for the first time and they actually realized they were inside a too-too like Peppa Pig and sang the song!

A train day… Oba!!! #train #livingthedream #toddler #oba

A video posted by Shell Born (@badubop) on Apr 22, 2016 at 11:54am PDT


We also stopped by this adorable poutine place, were we had fries and listened to Rock N Roll music! My husband was thrilled and the girls were actually very well behaved.


A video posted by Shell Born (@badubop) on Apr 22, 2016 at 3:19pm PDT


The blood tests results (all 36 of them) were done in less than 24 hours and despite all the drama, I’m happy to announce that I’ll live!

I needed a day off. I can’t wait for us to buy a car and explore Canada as a family – Well, at least the area around us!

I missed that!


There is a good side to being unemployed. Actually, there’s a shiny golden, filled with stars and unicorns side to it if you have a baby – or two – . If the kids go to sleep at 1am you are not desperate! You can actually use your “what-the-heck-I’ll-just-sleep-in-tomorrow card”.

Part of me is really scared of going back to work and leave the girls, though…but the remaining parts all really want to order stuff from Pottery Barn. That’s pretty much how shallow people can actually be in this world… or I could just make up a speech about paying for their colleges and being able to buy a house for us… it would be noble, but I assure you deep down inside I would still be pretty moved by Pottery Barn.

I try very hard not to be addicted to shopping or food like my mom is, but I still feel like I am. Specially because my husband can go weeks without shopping and hours without eating… which just makes me a bigger shopper (??? is that a thing??? ) and, well, pretty fat.

So, I’m sending out resumes, in case you’re hiring (ha-ha) and hoping the girls start talking soon ’cause this whole guessing why they are crying thing is making me quite a bit insane. They are pretty good at communicating and understand everything we say, but, since they have their own language and have deep, long, conversations with one another, they don’t really feel the need to speak OUR language and that’s just hard for me! But, oh well… it’s not as hard as it used to be, for as little as I remember it.

Thing is – I’m so off-topic right now- I hear that women produce (produce?) some sort of hormone when they go through labour that makes her forget about the pain, so she’ll want to do it again. And that’s a real thing.

On my case, I have forgotten about the first months with the girls, in which I couldn’t really take a shower or go to the bathroom, not to mention leave the house, because they were always crying. Always! For 5 months, they were either sleeping or crying. But those memories are really just a blur.

I actually do remember the first 5 days with the girls and then it’s blur, blur, blur, 11 months! Which makes me believe that it’s when I started relaxing.

The weird, crazy, send-me-to-a-mental-hospital-right-now part of the story is that I’d do it again. I hated being pregnant, I hated going through labour (even though I had a c-section) but I’d do it again. And if I ever do get a job in this country (look at me, rescuing the original topic) and actually get pregnant again some day I just hope I don’t have quadruplets. I can totally handle 3 babies. – she said, as she watched her twins sleep and look completely possible to handle.

This Canadian air is making me lose it a bit, eh?

Good night, moms (and Gab) I’m off to watch something with Jared Leto on it (who by the way should multiply hanson-style as a favor to humanity, in my humble opinion).

Bye, now!

The perfect job

A few years ago, I was a different person. I was an artist.

Back in 1998 I got my first computer. I was fascinated by those plain 12 color HTML websites. I had to build one! I needed a theme and I chose my new favorite band, Hanson.

Back in the day, the official Hanson website had been build by the band members themselves and that made me believe that if kids my age could do that, I could do it too.

I learned everything there was to learn about it and I was determinate to start a career in graphic design. I spent endless hours studying those simple codes and I’d change the layout of my Hanson website every Saturday. I absolutely loved doing that, with all my heart.

The night before I was going to subscribe to graphic design school at the university my mom entered my room and said “Why are you doing this? Graphic design is not a career. Why don’t you subscribe for architecture instead, WHICH IS A PROFFESION?”. And, ta-da. Here I am. Michele, the architect. To make the story short.

Architecture school was very consuming. I studied during 3 shifts and when it was finally over, there was a whole world of php, css, C++ and so on out there which I knew nothing about. That made me sad, but I knew I had learned a lot about my true passion: drawing.

Although the effort during school gave me tendinitis and my free hand drawing ended up a bit compromised, I had fun playing with photoshop during presentations and putting together banners like this:


But then, things changed.

We are moving to a different country and suddenly my architecture diploma is not valid there. I’m nothing! Yet, I feel free… Which brings us back to 1998 and my original dream.

I applied for this job… this perfect, perfect job, where people would pay me to draw. But it’s not happening.

It’s not happening because I don’t know enough anymore. My portfolio is s%$# and C++ is a total stranger to me.

Luck is when preparation meets opportunity, right?

I was lucky and I met the opportunity. I’m not prepared, but I wish I was. I wish I was 20 and had the time to study this and be one of those geeks who know about video games and coding and all that. But I wonder how old is too old to start preparing ourselves for something new again? To change careers?

I met a doctor who graduated at 55. He was inspiring.

I’m lost and probably will end up washing dishes with an invalid diploma on my drawer and  a dream in the back of my head.

Frustrating, isn’t, it?

But at least my children will have a better chance at life and live in a beautiful new country where people have the right to be whatever they decide to. So, we’re happy after all.

ps: And my Hanson site is still on, if you got curious, it’s =) ’cause it’s nice to feel 15 every once in a while and be allowed to dream.

Take care and wish me luck,


Please, take me home.

I was reading this beautiful blog and it got me thinking about things…. The way she describes Canada as her home and also the home of her great, great grandparents with so much love and affection got me thinking about what it must feel like to be home.

I’ve been fantasying about walking into my own house, to find my family sitting by the dinner table, or perhaps just having a video game slumber party in the living room for way too long. The house in my head is not big and beautiful. It’s small and cozy… it’s also ours and it makes us not want to leave.

It is a sad thing to not feel at home where you live, to not have your own house. It’s a feeling of abandonment. You want to go home, but home is nowhere to be found.

Ever since I was a young girl I wanted to leave this place. I remember opening my window and crying over the view. I was seven. Everything was deteriorated  and poor and just plain sad. I didn’t belong here. It wasn’t the worst place in the world, it was just not where I wanted to be. I can’t really put my finger on the reason why I’ve never liked it in here… but it’s there, lost in my memory somewhere.

That same window has been threatening me for 33 years now. I haven’t moved an inch, but things are about to change. We are leaving, finally.

People say I should stay and fight for this place, but I don’t think it’s really my battle to fight for a place I’ve never loved. I think I’m lucky to leave. I’ve never wanted to stay.

I just need to be somewhere where I can open my window and smile even if the sky is gray. Specially if the sky is gray, actually. I seem to find the winter rather poetic and welcoming. I’ll finally see the snow.

I hope we all find our homes… and I also secretly, or not so secretly, hope the people in this new place don’t see us as intruders. I hope my girls are well accepted… I’m not really worried about me, as long as they are fine.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed and my hopes up. A better life is about to start.

Wish me luck,