thegoodfellas/blogset-br huggingface dataset:
Enfim, voce que quis assim, agora sou feliz do meu lado e voce do seu, e se algum dia perceber o que fez, reconhecer um erro que seja, eu ja estarei bem longe, infelizmente. E no fim das contas a gente descobre que um verdadeiro sentimento nunca morre, fica adormecido por um tempo...Voce veio e acordou o meu por voce, sou eternamente grata por me fazer te amar intensamente de novo.E feliz por te fazer feliz tambem, sou a mulher de sua vida e voce o homem da minha!!! Tao bom morrer de amor e continuar vivendo.Mario QuintanaE e o que faco agora!!! Nao quero uma historia de cinema, onde existe esse tal de casal perfeito. Eu nao quero uma felicidade de mentira "so pra mostrar status". Eu quero maos dadas, cafune e colo. Quero viagens, loucuras e parceria. Quero coracao batendo forte, e falta do que falar. Quero amor, quero amar. Quero um eu, com voce. Quero eu e voce formando esse tal de nos. Quero tudo o que voce quiser me dar. Mas eu so quero com voce.Falabella Ser feliz, receber mimos e elogios, virou minha rotina#amadademais: ) http://g1.globo.com/rn/rio-grande-do-norte/noticia/2013/07/video-mostra-guarda-da-cmn-puxando-manifestante-pelos-cabelos.htmlRepugnante, revoltante ver tanta covardia...Policiazinha Legislativa despreparada, desqualificada e COVARDE!!! "Ela acreditava em anjos...e porque acreditava, eles existiam."Clarice Lispector Peitinho caido... Todo mundo esta acostumado com unhas em formatos normais, mas essa tendencia vem tomando conta das unhas pelo mundo, inclusive algumas famosas ja estao usando. Esse estilo de unha foi muito usado nas decadas de 50 e 60 e os formatos variam de mais discretos e arrendondos, para os mais triangulares. Policia Militar de Caparao ' Opa, e ai corujas, como vao?Ja dizia a musica que nem toda brasileira e bunda. Mas se fosse, os problemas energeticos desse pais estariam resolvidos. E isso nao fui eu quem disse, nao; foi ninguem menos que Arnold Schwazennegger, o Exterminador da California e ex-governador do Futuro. Nao, acho que e o contrario...Numa entrevista durante um Forum Ambiental no Amazonas, do qual ele participou, ele sugeriu que o corpo das brasileiras seria uma otima fonte de energia: passam mais de 24 horas sambando, seria uma excelente fonte de energia alternativa.Logico que isso foi uma brincadeira (deixa explicar, porque... ne!) mas nao sei dizer qual o tom dessa declaracao, se foi apenas uma piada bem humorada, ou se teve uma pitada de ironia, ja que nosso pais e reconhecido la fora tambem pelas bundas redondas das nossas brasileiras (nao so por isso, ta?). Mas fica ai a dica para os ambientalistas: samba pode ser fonte de energia. E vou falar: teria energia pra abastecer esse pais inteiro, viu? So os carnavais de Sao Paulo e do Rio serviriam pra resolver a crise energetica desse pais por um bom tempo. E a Dilma querendo construir usina. Te falar, viu?Vou ali buscar uma passista pra carregar meu celular.. Video da Abertura em Cataguases Parece que ela acaba ali mesmo. Muito estranho. Fica a dica, meninas! Na hora de escolher qual peca de roupa usar, lembre-se que por ser uma cor chamativa, o que vai atrair o olhar e
justo o lugar em que estiver a peca dessa cor. Por isso e bom usar em partes que se queira valorizar. Caso queira tirar a atencao do seu quadril largo, o ideal e usar uma peca inferior neutra, que disfarce essa parte do corpo, e a peca azul bic atraindo o olhar e valorizando a parte de cima. Amarelo, energico com um movimento New wave dos anos 80,e a cor certa pra dar um UP na producao,tome cuidado na hora de montar o look,combine o amarelo com cores neutras assim como o cinza,bege,marrom para ter um look chic,agora se voce quer um look urbano aposte num look todo amarelo e em pecas modernas,assim voce vai arrasar !Da ate pra misturar,e apostar nessas cores quando nao tiver tao quente assim !
Spring, 1996, Hampshire College, Amherst, Massachusetts.On a cool, sunny Wednesday morning, I went out to grab some coffee and a muffin at the student center in front of Dakin (the Dorm where I lived in College). It was my second semester in College; I was 21 years old, young, green and tender. I had just recently moved to a single room in the E-2 hall, and while I much appreciated my privacy, I had started to feel a little lonely at times. So I used to go down to the small student center in front of Dakin quite often, sometimes between classes or in the mornings when I didn't have class just to hang out and be around random people. That morning, I think, I sat on the stool by the front porch to enjoy my coffee alone with a beautiful Golden Retriever, who was hanging out outside. A short, stocky, strawberry blond girl walked out of the student center suddenly upon seeing me and sat down beside me. She struck up casual small talk, and tried to make conversation even though I was clearly less invested than she was. She was nice enough, a little awkward, but in a very sweet way. I don't recall the conversation. But I recall it being pleasant. She was extremely intelligent, outspoken, eloquent, funny and a special kind of clever. But she was clearly more interested in me than I was in her. And she was relentless: she just wanted to make me laugh or smile, and my initially less than enthusiastic response did not discourage her. She didnt give up. I wasn't immediately attracted or amused, but her willingness and persistence were deeply endearing. And so I engaged, at first somewhat reluctantly, and eventually I was captivated.At the end of the morning, we said goodbye and she asked me whether I would like to have dinner sometime. I remember thinking that she didn't look like a girl I'd date. She looked somewhat masculine and crass - muscular tattooed arms, white tank top, ripped jeans, short bleached hair, dorky eye-glasses, thick, hoarse voice, and the arms - like she worked them out... I don't know...I thought to myself... "not really my type of girl. And I think she likes me...But what the hell do I know?" And when we talked, nothing about her way and her attitude was rough or intimidating. She was sweet, and gentle, and, yes, she had an acid and edgy sense of humor, which I already loved...but nothing in her way was rough. She was actually sweet, and well, lovely. I remember hesitating and then thinking, oh, it's just dinner and there is nothing that says it has to be more than dinner! I said, 'yes!' On Friday night, she picked me up outside of the back of Dakin on her chalk green Oldsmobile - one of those huge stick shift old cars - we call them bathtubs in Brazil - and she took me to a little, tiny buffet restaurant somewhere on the remote roadside around the Pioneer Valley. She
defended herself: "There's nothing special about this restaurant," she said, "and the food is ok but not amazing, however, amazing is the one table they have in the backyard outside and I reserved it for us." Spring was nearing its end. It was already a little chilly outside, so the great thing about that table was that we were all alone on a stage facing the remote countryside, overlooking a great open field, the valley and a few huge Massachusetts mountains across that field during the magical dusk hour. We sat down; she placed a bottle of red wine she had brought on the table. We sipped wine together as the day drew to a close. I don't remember the words that we said, but I remember never having an awkward pause and I remember laughing myself silly and being amused and absorbed. I learned that she was older than I was and not just a little further along in her College career. She was a senior Pre Law student and one of the principal editors of the schools student newspaper - The Omen. Not the official College Paper, but the dissenting, polemic one. She was very opinionated, sarcastic and not at all politically correct. In fact, she made it a mission not to be politically correct and to critique that new wave of political and social discourse that was wiping out irony and informed dissent from a whole generations sense of humor and political conversation. All minorities had to be united behind one discourse and in order for this to happen their political stance had to vague, pasteurized and positive. S. wasn't, and she was very explicitly, almost impolitely, so. She was also white, somewhat privileged and straight (Yes, I did say straight when we'll come back to this), and she didn't mind putting herself in the line and being the butt of criticism in order to shake things up.Later that night, she dropped me off in front of my dorm room we may have been a little tipsy from the wine I dont know how long we stood there and talked, it was late and the hall was empty. We kissed on the lips in front of my room on the empty hall. This was my very first girl kiss! When we kissed, well...this was my very first girl kiss! It felt something like going to heaven. It was like being caught on a free fall by angels in the sky with diamonds, dancing on the octopus garden with glowing sea fairies, ridding on the back of the flying unicorn. It felt like being filled, fulfilled, tickled, caressed, provoked, taken on a dance, taken on a ride, and matched, completed, like a puzzle that finds its last missing piece and reveals an epic image. It was like rediscovery of your own self. Her mouth completed mine like the missing piece I had always looked for. And it fulfilled me inside and out. It was a powerful sensation that rushed though my skin, my veins and soul. I had never felt
anything like it, but then again, I had never kissed a girl. So I thought - I suppose that's what it feels like when you kiss a girl! I smiled, and then I she said: goodnight. She asked to breakfast the next morning, and I said yes and goodnight!Things in College evolve very fast, a little bit like inside a Reality Show, or inside a Political Campaign, or any other situation where you are confined into intensive co-habitation with several other confined people. And thus our story happened that fast. The next morning, we had breakfast and I met all her best friends, who also lived in Dakin, who were also older and more advanced in their College careers, and who were all part of her politically incorrect passe. In order to understand this story - there is something you must know about my school - Hampshire in the mid 90's was the kind of place where being different was the norm, and it was weird to be Yankee, straight and square. It was a place where you had to apologize for being so narrow-minded that you were straight if youd never felt the need to experiment sexually. A place where people assumed you were bisexual before asking, and the burden of explanation was on you if you were just plain straight. Not the other way around. So, all of S.'s friends were just narrowly straight, and so had she been up until this moment. She had dated B., her three-year boyfriend, who lived across the hall from her on the infamous E-3 hall, until a few weeks before we met. E-3 was the home of the entire Omen staff. And B. was a dear and joined us for breakfast every time. I didn't understand exactly what their relationship was. But B. was so nice to me, and I liked him quite a bit. In fact he was my favorite among S.'s friends. And I was just becoming aware of all this context in warp speed as I began sort of dating S... After one dinner and two breakfasts together in College, well, you were dating. And I quickly learned that none of my dyke friends liked S. and they weren't too keen on my new relationship. Our friends just didn't mesh because my friends were gay feminist political activists and they were very adamantly politically correct. But I was so new to this culture and all its complexities, that I didn't really get all this at the time. I just understood, people in general, weren't exactly thrilled about me and S. I, on the other hand, was becoming more involved and thrilled about her everyday. What had seemed at first like someone I would never have picked out of a crowd, was now beginning to grab my attention me with a force......I remember one particular night, when we got together to watch a movie in my dorm room. Lying in her arms on that narrow dorm bed, we tried to Woody Allens Annie Hall for about four or five hours. We
didn't watch much of the movie, we tried, and we rewound over and over again. But we spent most of the night lost in each others kisses hugging, holding, feeling each other's skin, body and touch. I don't think I have ever felt anything as magical and electrifying as the brush of her skin against mine. It has been almost sixteen years. Many lovers, many kisses, many orgasms and many moments of ecstasy later... there was something about S.'s skin and the way of her mind...there hasn't been anything or anyone quite like it. That night, when we finally finished or gave up on the movie, we got up from bed and made some drinks to sample some novelty Brazilian music I had brought from that summer in Rio. I showed her music she had never heard...Samba, Bossa Nova, MPB... and she asked me: how do you dance to it? At the moment, she was sitting on my bed facing me with her glass in her hand and I was sitting on my desktop, I got up and stood in front of her, and so I danced for her. I can still remember the look on her eyes as she observed me. Her eyes sparkled with a sincere kind of admiration and desire. Her gaze burned into my skin and into my mind. I was filled with an ecstasy I have carried inside my private, longing memories for years to come. At that moment I was the only woman, and the most beautiful thing in the universe. I felt yearned, and I felt loved. I have looked for this gaze many a time in every woman Ive fallen for. In the beginning, as a conscious effort...later just a learned instinct and longing desire. But I have never found it again. And I have never danced for another woman.Back then, I thought this was just the way it felt whenever you kissed and loved a woman...But today, I can see that S. has indeed set the bar very high. There was never anyone quite like this. A combination of mind and body - and how her mind and body instigated and awakened the deepest senses of my mind and body. A case can be made for: first love, young love... oh, yes, it is true, I guess this is just another proof that one never forgets their first love...and by this, I suppose they mean, one never forgets how ecstatic and magical it felt to feel this exquisite emotion for the very first time; how all your senses can be heightened and provoked to a maximum degree of pleasure, like a child seeing the world for the first time, or tasting sweet for the very first time, or meeting their mother for the very first time, and how we'll always compare every other pursuit somewhat longingly and nostalgically to the first one who shook our world. I have loved as fiercely and as passionately again, yes, I have, after her...but never as freely and as naked. Back then I just didn't know I
could get hurt this bad, so I just opened my heart and I let myself go - in a way I never have again. I have never danced for someone again. I have never felt like someones only one again.What was so surprising about all this is that in so many ways, I never saw her coming. And even when I saw her coming and edging her way in, I simply couldn't see her coming the way that she did. And she did come in a big way. She opened up my heart in a way I didnt know it had to be opened, and then she enraptured and ravished my soul and kicked every door right open in a very big way. I let down every guard, every wall, every inch of protected doubt and fear. I stretched my body, my arms, my soul right open and big. I welcomed her difference, I cherished her strangeness, I loved her otherness, and I wanted to learn about her, discover what made her, and have whatever she was made of and whatever made her tick beside me - to enchant, and to charm and to swallow me whole. I think I loved her. So young, so soon, so quickly, so green, so unraveled and undone. I didn't know love and I didn't recognize it, I didn't even see it for many, many years to come. I couldn't know, because there was nothing else to compare it to. And for many years, unknowingly, I think I loved her.One day, the same way she came, she left. We took a trip together to NYC to visit Law Schools she was considering going to. During that trip, she distanced herself suddenly from me. It happened very fast and I didn't understand or foresee what was happening. She said she wasnt ready for what was happening. She said she had never been with a woman before, and she was doing her last semester in College and getting ready to go away... so she had to focus on the next phase of her life and she just couldn't deal with a relationship. She didnt even explain much. It was the first time she was quiet and inarticulate. And I didnt know how to act or what to say either. I didnt even know to say what I felt, and how I felt, and to just plain ask why! I thought I couldnt or shouldnt ask why. Because, perhaps if I wasnt so stupid or unworthy, I just might know. I was so young. I felt that being vulnerable and honest might be weak, and probably so did she...so I just sucked it up and took it. We both did. Neither one of us was ready for this moment and for what we had and what was coming. She drove us back to school. And we rode together almost quietly for four hours. I never, for the life of me, found where and when - that switch turned inside her heart. And I never understood why. One moment I
was her muse, her woman the one she wanted...the woman she looked at with glimmering, smiling eyes. And the next moment, I was unwanted, inconvenient, rejected. How could this happen? How could this be true? It didnt sink in for a very long time. I couldnt accept it. At first I stuck around, made friends with all her friends hoping that she would eventually see the light and want me back the way she did that very first time. Because I was so young, I never ever summoned the courage to ask her why. And eventually, and painstakingly, I realized that she would leave to go somewhere very far away, and never come back to me again, emotionally or physically.She did leave, and I never said goodbye. I stopped talking to her. And we never saw each other again for another year or two, which is eternity when you're 21 and in College. One day, one or two years later, she visited school and got in touch with our mutual friend B. She asked me out for coffee on campus. We met at the campus coffee shop and had coffee, then walked together for a bit and sat on a bench by the school's front lawn for a while. It was a little cold outside and there were few people walking or sitting around. It didn't matter to us, because we both really seemed to want to be there and we sat for a very long time. I don't remember the conversation, in fact, I remember very little. But I do remember the very words she said: "I was very taken by you. I know I didn't act like it or show it, but I was very taken by you."Whether or not I realized it then, I was still so in love, so disappointed, so raw, so angry and mixed up inside, and still so taken by her... I didn't have the heart to ask, even then: what happened? What made you change? And what do you mean when you say 'you were taken by me'? Taken: stolen, captured, appropriated, arrested, seized... That word has stuck with me and it rang in my mind and my heart for a very long time. I was so grateful. To know it had all meant something. And to see it in her eyes again. Those smiling eyes that gazed at me tenderly and with a certain love. I forgave her. I made peace. We hugged, and smiled together that day. And I was able to cherish what I had once loved about her again. We never saw each other again after that day. ...I recently met a young girl, 23 years old, J., who took me for a ride. At my age, youd think Id have better things to do than have my heart broken by a 23 year old. Haha. And I do. But this 23 year old had a special gift she reminded me of S. in a very real and intangible way it was the touch of her skin against mine that
awakened that old feeling of, oh, being taken by someone. And to be carried away into a world so familiar and deeply entrancing the possibility of love that I felt when I experienced physical love for the very first time. J. felt so much like S., and she acted and walked and spoke, so very much, like S. Young, unprepared, unsure and unaware of herself, and of me. And she did in some sort of way want and desire me and then she rejected me, just like S. And in her image, I saw something great I saw us, S. and myself, transported to that time, sixteen years ago. How beautiful to be faced with a real life picture perfect memento of your past, of yourself and to realize your innocence. I walked those streets, those halls, and those feelings remembered us vividly, our images, inside and out, and what it was like to be 21 and to love and feel life like a 21 year old again. I realized how otherworldly it all seems now, and how just different I was back then. How you seemed to me like a person who was older and done, but you were also just another young girl. I wasnt stupid and you werent cruel we were simply young, very, very young and unskilled, unrehearsed, unready and caught off guard. Today, the present has changed the past for me. I can see we are no longer two people who hurt each other and did each other wrong. We are two young girls who were scared. We were both scared. I couldnt have helped, I couldnt have held you, we couldnt have done any different. If we could do better, we would have. We were just girls. And I most certainly can forgive us for that. In some ways, her words, then, released me from the anger and the hurting I felt. And today, this new notion has released me from the distrust and the aching sorrow Ive carried all this time. I can see now how she never meant to hurt me. I still dont know where and how, or why, because I never asked. But I understand now that there was so much left unsaid, unchecked, unassessed and unlooked at. The one I am today can see the ones we were then and lovingly accept that we had no resources to deal. And now, I am sure that S. didnt know how, where or why any better than I did. I never ever forgot her, and I have on occasion told the story of S. and me over the years to several people. Every once and while, when recount these moments, I miss her. I tell it as a story of how love can sometimes come from unexpected places, and how our story taught me some important lessons early in my life and prepared me for a lifetime of other equally welcome and wonderful surprises - of not necessarily expecting what's certain, or waiting for what's perfect or underestimating what presents itself to you