The Brother story

Funny how some people mean absolutely nothing to you. My brother is one of them - no hard feelings, really, and I seriously hope that he does not take me wrong if he ever reads this, but if that reincarnation story of having both of us in the same family again to work out our karmas is true, I guess we will keep on coming back for a while, because this time it was a real disaster! We did not work out at all.

The family story is short and simple: mom and dad did their thing and she got a belly three times - first time to Paulo Sérgio, second time to Sérgio Luiz, and third time to moi, Luís Fernando (what's with the name repetition, I do not know, maybe a trend they were trying to set or something, but I guess it did not work out). The first one died at birth or a few days later, I suppose he would be 3 years older than my older brother, making us 8 years apart. As he did not live, there is no story there. As for the other one, there is also no story there, because as far as I remember, he was never part of my life. He never participated anything with or to me, he never shared, never motivated and whenever he could, he would even make my life miserable (even more than it already was, because as far as I remember, I had always found the boys more interesting than the girls, so there was always a struggle in my head), but that is another topic for some other time. It can be rather complex.

Going back to the brotherhood, he was never present in my life, therefore I grew up rather alone, meaning without a brother. I had my mother though, who apparently seemed to be good company.

Fights, competitions, being put down, is all I recall. We became acquaintances when we both were in our 20s. But it did not last long, because he got married, I came out, and as coming out apparently meant that I had a contagious disease, therefore he withdrew himself, and his family away from my life.

Yes, I am over it, but I think it is always worth mentioning things which have set some kinds of milestones in our lives. Good or bad.

We still do not speak to each other, even after my father's death. I was not in Brazil at the time, so he took care of everything by himself. There are some Will and Testament complications, but he deals with my representative in Brazil for those matters.

He is married with two children - Felipe and Gabriela, who I never met, but who know about my existance.

A little bird told me that my nephew was learning Italian with a friend of mine (yeah, small world - she is a lesbian), and apparently he always questioned about "his uncle"...

Who's to blame?

and so it begins...

Perhaps it was time I had finished it, or perhaps time I was already over it, but no, knowing me, I would only now finally give in to it, which reminds me of Madonna's True Blue album - it took me some time to open myself to it and let it grow in me, then after that it was Papa don't preach and Open your heart to me all day long...

It is Wednesday,November 25, 2009, one of those nothing special days, rainy, windy, kind of day that reminds you of one question: What the fuck are you doing in Belgium???

For those who do not know me and ended up here by accident, well, I will introduce myself. My name is Luis Fernando Pinto, everyone knows me as Fernando Pinto, Fer, Nando or even Simpson. I was born in Brazil, on June 29, 1965 at 1:15 pm in the city of Campinas (right pronunciation for it is Cum-penis), state of São Paulo. Family of immigrants - Mom's family came from Italy and dad's from Portugal. My mother tongue is Portuguese, and due to the fascination with Walt Disney productions, I started learning English when I was 7 years old. There were other things I started doing when I was 7, but I leave that for some other time. If I ever forget to mention it, please remind me, ok?

I guess our lives start at a certain point in the past, when we remember doing or acting or talking or something. One of the first things I remember when I was a kid is playing at school, pre-school - we used to live downtown, and there was a nun's school right next door, so that is where I first went to - Colégio Sagrado Coração de Jesus, which was actually kind of nice, we played, we had a little carpet which we could place on the floor and we could "work" on it, and there was also a line, made of tape, glued on the floor, which we had to walk on... As a result, up to now, I still love doing everything I have to do, like writing or reading laying on the floor and as for the line on the floor - it was supposed to make me a very balanced person... I will let you be the jugde of that...

I remember talking to a few people at school, but due to the fact that I was extremelly spoiled, I don't think I had many friends.

I keep on wondering why I am writing this. Is anyone ever going to read it? And what will they think? The idea of people making judgements about me is kinda scary. Well I am only human after all.