There I was. I had prepared for class the night before, as I always did, and was giving it some finishing touches and final revisions in my office. It was time to go meet my new students. Despite having already had a lifetime of experience and training in my field of study, I always got a little nervous before facing a new class. Will they like me? Will they hate me? Am I looking okay? Is my accent too obvious? Every class was different. Just like with any other professor, some years my connection with students was simply fantastic, sometimes not so much. So, it was not unusual for professors to feel slightly anxious before each new cohort arrived. However, when I entered the classroom, that anxiety soon began to dissipate. This seems like a nice group. The class composition was very similar to other classes—the eager ones who sat upfront and absorbed every word, comma, and period, and copied every drawing. Then there were the more timid, quiet ones, who tended to sit toward the middle...

(Versão em português de The Universe is a Comedian) PRIMEIRA PARTE Dizem que o Universo fala com a gente. Sério? Eu creio que sim. Talvez seja o Universo que sussurre lá no fundo da nossa mente, aquela intuição no peito que diz: Hum... acho melhor eu não ir por aí. Ou então: Tem alguma coisa estranha nessa história... Sinais e mensagens subliminares que aparecem antes que alguma coisa aconteça. Muitos, erradamente, têm a tendência de ignorar esses avisos cósmicos. Eu, certamente, ignorei. Mas também descobri que o Universo tem uma outra forma — muito menos sutil — de se comunicar. Quando os sussurros não funcionam, o Universo, que nem criança mimada, grita, faz birra e começa a atirar coisas na sua direção. Talvez não literalmente... Na maioria das vezes. As coisas simplesmente começam a acontecer. Uma atrás da outra. Como se houvesse um cara lá no cosmos, um controlador de tráfego aéreo, convencido de que você está na rota errada e, então, tenta desesperadamente recalcular o seu traje...

People say the Universe talks to you. Really? Well... maybe it does. Maybe it is the Universe speaking to you through that little voice in the back of your mind—that gut feeling that whispers, Maybe I shouldn't go there. Or... Hmm... something about this doesn't smell right. Those tiny subliminal messages that show up before something happens. Many of us ignore them. I certainly did. But I have since discovered that the Universe has another, far less subtle, way of getting its point across. In fact, when whispering doesn't work, it has a tantrum and starts throwing things at you. Well, not literally—mostly. Things simply begin happening. One after another. As though a cosmic air traffic control tower has decided you're heading in the wrong direction and is desperately trying to reroute you—hoping you won't crash and burn. That was my trip to Brazil earlier this year. At first, it's just a weird detour and you may dismiss it. But then another thing happens, anoth...

 Versão em Português do texto "No Witness—Hopefully!" Há momentos na vida para os quais ninguém nos prepara. Não para a perda dos pais. Não para a aposentadoria. Não para virar avó. Não para deixar escapar um pipizinho quando a gente ri. E muito menos para cair da própria cama! Lá estava eu, estatelada no chão, sem a menor elegância, numa madrugada daquelas, olhando em volta no escuro e tentando reconstruir rapidamente a série de eventos infelizes que me levara àquele pouso tão indigno. O meu primeiro pensamento não foi: Será que me machuquei? E também não foi: Como é que eu vou me levantar daqui? Contudo, creio que esse pensamento me passou pela mente numa velocidade relâmpago. Mas não. O primeiro pensamento foi: Será que alguém viu isso? Silêncio. Foi até engraçado o alívio que senti quando minha pergunta mental foi recebida por aquele silêncio absoluto. Ainda bem que a gata não está aqui para me julgar. Na minha mente — sempre visualmente ativa — imaginei a minha gata para...

There are moments in life that no one prepares you for. Not the loss of your parents. Not retirement. Not becoming a grandmother. Not suddenly peeing a little when you laugh. And... certainly not falling off your own bed! There I was, sprawled inelegantly on the floor at some ungodly hour of the night, looking around in the dark, trying to quickly reconstruct exactly what series of unfortunate events had led to this less-than-dignified landing. The first thought wasn't, Am I hurt? It wasn't even, How do I get back up? Mind you, I think that one did flash through my brain at warp speed. But no. The first thought was... "Did anybody see that?" Silence. Such a funny sense of relief washed over me when my mental question was met with silence. "Good thing the cat isn't here to judge me." In my visually active mind, I imagined my cat standing at the door, maybe smoking a cigar and slowly shaking her head at pathetic little me thinking, “And I trust this human ...