This might be oversharing

Sometimes, when I’m explaining something — a word, a verse, a song — I realize I’ve gone too far.

That I’ve given too many examples.

That I’ve made comparisons that weren’t part of the plan.

That I’ve brought scenes from my own life when they weren’t strictly “necessary”.

And almost always, afterwards, that uncomfortable feeling shows up: I talked too much.

(Se você ainda não entende tudo em inglês, não precisa parar aqui. A ideia não é compreender cada palavra, mas ir se familiarizando com o ritmo da língua.)

In English, there’s a word that often comes to mind in moments like this: oversharing.

It implies that there’s a socially acceptable limit to what can be said — to what can be exposed, to how much one is allowed to spill before meaning turns into discomfort, or excess into noise.

It’s a useful word. And also a revealing one.

I’ve always been interested in that uncertain space where language slightly overflows. Where things don’t fit perfectly, but still make sense. Where meaning is not fixed, but felt.

That’s how my relationship with English began.

Music was the entry point. I started diving into the language through lyrics, trying to understand not only what was being said, but why it was said that way — the imagery, the references, the emotional weight carried by certain choices. Songs were never just listening exercises; they were texts I wanted to inhabit.

Later on, that curiosity found structure. I studied English within a language school, learned its systems, its grammar, its patterns. What music had opened intuitively, method helped consolidate. One thing didn’t replace the other — they complemented each other.

Decades later, I find myself teaching that same language.Still guided by the same curiosity that started with a song.

(Aprender uma língua, pra mim, nunca foi sobre controle total. Sempre foi sobre aproximação.)

Teaching English has never been an exercise in restraint.

Language doesn’t thrive in compartments. It spreads. It sticks to memories, images, experiences that don’t fit into neutral examples. A word only truly comes alive when it finds a story to lean on — even if that story is ordinary, personal, a little too much.

When I first started my solo career as a private teacher, I tried to be perfect.

Truth is, I always do.

The perfect lesson.

The flawless explanation.

The right example, at the right time.

But I’m far too human to sustain that for long. And I’ve been learning — every day — that not everyone will resonate with the way I teach.

And that’s okay. There are wonderful teachers out there, with styles very different from mine, and I’m always happy to recommend them when I feel another approach might be a better fit.

(Nem todo professor precisa servir para todo aluno. E isso também é cuidado.)

This space grows out of that understanding.

It is about English learning through culture — through music, literature, everyday references, and the kind of curiosity that never really turns off.

Here, I share what crosses my path in English — songs, books, films, texts, podcasts — with time, context, and depth. Not as a list of recommendations, and not as traditional teaching material, but as an invitation to experience a language attentively, emotionally, and with a bit of organized mess.

You don’t need to understand everything to be here.You don’t need to read fast, or “get it right”.

Sometimes, just staying with the text is enough.

Maybe this is oversharing.

Maybe it’s simply the result of a mind too restless to explain a language without letting life leak into it.

Either way, this is where I begin.

(Se este texto te pareceu difícil, está tudo bem. Este espaço também é sobre convivência com a língua — sem pressa, sem cobrança.)