• When I was young going to a concert was something very special. First, because there weren’t that many concerts in Portugal at the time and second, because it made me feel like taking part of something unique.

    When I was young people attending concerts were there to live the experience, even if they weren’t absolutely thrilled by the band. They would listen, clap and respect the artists and those around them who were really digging the show.

    When I was young there were small flames coming from lighters, which would enrapture the venue at the very the first chords of a ballad.

    Years went by, I’m no longer that young, and now a concert is just another thing to put in a monthly to do list. It’s no longer unique because bands come here all the time and mainly because a concert is now a social event. Few go to see a band for what it is while more and more go because it’s supposed to; more and more don’t respect the artists or those who really want to see the concert and simply stand there talking to their friends and grabbing a beer; more and more watch the concert through the screen of their cell phones, because better than being there is showing others where they are, thereby gaining virtual recognition.

    It saddens me as I’m confronted by the evidence that we are building a society based on things that don’t exist beyond an electronic device. A society that doesn’t know how to enjoy a moment for what that moment is, rather living the moment for what it can project before an illusory audience.

    I stopped going to the movies because I couldn’t stand the noise of people eating popcorn and chatting like they were in a coffee shop the whole time. Maybe I must stop going to concerts too and thus avoid the sad show of thousand of people updating their virtual status with pictures and videos captured seconds before. A show where I can’t catch a glimpse of a single flame twinkling in the dark, except for brief moments when someone is lighting a cigarette.


  • Those who don't believe that laughing is the best remedy, don't know this story.

    Bob Carey began photographing himself in the most unexpected places wearing nothing but a pink tutu. It was just for fun, until the day he found out his wife had breast cancer. Their fight with the disease (which stroke twice in three years) showed that "sometimes the very best thing—no, the only thing—we can do to face another day is to laugh at ourselves, and share a laugh with others".

    That's when Bob decided to share his photographs and help several breast cancer organizations. The Tutu Project promotes exhibitions, an events and now it also turned into a book. The best part is that you can also buy the pictures.

    Already on my wish list :)






    ©Bob Carey


  • And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears

    And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears

    Get over your hill and see what you find there,

    With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair




    Mumford & Sons

  • Today you can download my book for FREE!
    Just follow the link and do it with one click. You don't need to have a Kindle device.
    Enjoy!


    http://www.amazon.com/Thirty-Something-Nothings-Dreamed-ebook/dp/B008WNPXZE/ref=la_B008X2O526_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363866083&sr=1-1



  • Say what you like, argue what you will, but breastfeeding is not the act of tenderness and serenity it looks like in the photos. Quite the contrary. For most women it’s a difficult and painful act, until mother and baby get the hang of things. The benefits for the baby are great and undeniable. But despite all the reasons the World Health Organization, mothers who breastfeed until their kids start school, or fundamentalist paediatricians may advance in its favour, breastfeeding is a drag. I’m not ashamed to say I dislike it. And I bet a lot of women only persist in breastfeeding because they’re afraid of the reproachful looks they’ll get when they say they’re thinking of giving their babies formula milk.
    Of the countless reasons for not liking breastfeeding that all of a sudden come to mind, I’ll stick to the ones nobody mentions when we’re pregnant, and that I only discovered from experience:

    1. Sore nipples

    I’m not talking about the more serious problems like cuts and infections. Even when all goes well, there’s always that time of day when your nipples are sore and hypersensitive from so much sucking. Yes, there are creams and pomades for that; yes, there are silicone nipple shields, but it still hurts at first – a lot.

    2. Lack of quality sex

    Yes, girls. The day will come when you feel like making love. It’s just that breastfeeding depletes our natural lubrication; and besides, our boobs are no longer part of the equation when it comes to sex. Why? Well, if a hot shower is enough to bring the milk out, imagine what an eager pair of hands will do. And that’s not to mention the aforementioned sore nipples. (It’s frustrating for the child’s father too: he has a huge, firm pair of breasts in his face all day, a pair that wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of Playboy, and he can’t touch them.)

    3. It takes hours!

    Yes, I know we mothers are supposed to dedicate ourselves 100% to baby in the first few months. That’s why we have things like maternity leave. But spending eight hours a day breastfeeding is enough to drive you mad. Why eight hours? Because babies feed at least 7 times a day and the routine is: one breast for about 15 minutes (or more; some people say we should give baby all the time he wants – but they’re obviously people with a lot of time on their hands), 5 or 10 minutes to wind them, then another 5 or 10 minutes on the other breast. Then winding again. Then you have to change their nappy, and sometimes that means a full change of clothes, and then there’s the chance that baby might need to be winded a little more. All that takes at least an hour. In the middle of the night, that means when we get back to bed and we’re finally read to go back to sleep, there are only two hours left before the baby wakes up again. And in the middle of the day, in those two hours we have to decide whether to take a nap or have a bath, eat and do all the things that need to be done around the house. Great, isn’t it?

    4. We feel like cows

    Especially when we have to pump milk out, either for baby to drink later or because our breasts are too full and there’s a risk of mastitis. That’s when we discover we’re nothing more than mammals whose function is to be milked. Every squeeze makes the milk spurt out, just like a milking cow. Very sexy.

    5. We don’t know if the baby’s eating too much or not enough

    What if he’s crying after half an hour at the breast? We’re helpless and don't know what the matter is. He’s fed, his nappy’s clean, we’ve picked him up and held him to us, what can it be? He’s hungry. That’s what it is. So pop out a boob and start all over again.

    To sum up: there are big advantages for baby (although like millions of other people I was fed on formula milk and I’m still here, thank you very much), but for the mother it’s simply a question of convenience. It’s much more practical than preparing a bottle of formula. And it helps us lose weight after pregnancy.
    Fine. Let the breastfeeding fundamentalists insult me all they want. But before they do, they should remember that breastfeeding is an option that lies with the individual. Mothers who don't want to breastfeed are not criminals. Every mother wants the best for her child, and a happy, high-spirited mother may do more good to her baby’s health than a depressed mum who only breastfeeds out of obligation and passes all that negative energy to her offspring.


  • Today we celebrate Father's Day in Portugal. I couldn't find a more appropriate date to share the hilarious work of photographer Dave Engledow and his adorable daughter Alice Bee, "World's Best Dad"

    To all dad's, the present and the absent, the good and the bad, the loving and the serious, the ones who stand as an example and those who forget their children are always looking up to them.





    ©Dave Engledow

    Make sure to visit this page and see the whole collection. Totally worth it!


    if you like my blog, check out my book Thirty Something


  • Until my baby was born, I used to get bad-tempered if I slept for less than eight hours a night or missed a meal. I’d go mad just seeing the living room untidy, with cushions on the floor and the table strewn with glasses, or the laundry basket overflowing. It was unthinkable to have my nails anything short of impeccable, with nail polish in the season’s most fashionable colour; or to spend the day without wearing one of the forty pairs of high heels in my closet.

    But then along came this little being who turned my world upside down and now I find myself never getting more than three straight hours of sleep, looking at the watch and realizing I haven’t eaten anything for hours or even finding clothes scattered all over the house along with glasses, packets of milk, bibs and pacifiers and simply ignoring them. Also my nails are a mess because every time I go to paint them I remember I’ll be changing nappies before they’re dry and – get this – I’ve noticed there’s dust on my stilettos, it’s so long since they’ve seen the light of day (or evening).

    Telling myself ‘tomorrow I’ll get my hair cut’ or ‘tonight I’ll finally watch that film’ is beginning to sound like those last-gasp promises in an election campaign. So the first lesson this little being who’s moved in beside me has taught me is: it’s pointless making plans. Better to take one day at a time and make the most of moments like these, when I happen to take a look at my blog and get an enormous urge to write – at the exact moment he’s fast asleep. If I’d planned it, no way would it have happened.



    if you like my blog check out my book Thirty Something


  • I’ll be happy when people stop celebrating this day.

    In my point of view, the need to dedicate a day to women in the 21st century is both insulting and sad. Insulting because it puts women in the same level as all the undefended, such as children, the starveling, the sick or the trees. Sad because we still have to remind the world that we are far from being equal to men.

    We still earn less and work more, we still are disadvantaged in our careers for having children; we still are the largest group of victims of violence, we still do all the house chores, we still are criticized for wanting a certain type of job and for having any kind of manly behaviour; we still are discriminated for the smallest things.

    Therefore, I can’t celebrate this day. I won’t accept even a flower. For the most I can see it as a tribute to all women who fought for equality through history. And those who are still fighting to make this day a day like any other.


  • Just created a new Facebook page where I gather all news about my book, future books and myself as well as blog posts, pictures and other stuff.
    Hope to see you there! :)




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