Memories of a Milk Carton

To parents

2008-12-19T08:46:00.000-08:00

When your grown-up children don't act like you always wanted them to act, ask yourself what you did wrong and what you can do to make it different, instead of taking it out on them, because a child's upbringing isn't up to the freaking child.
You're given a blubbery mass of depending and loving-born "human". Take it seriously.
S'all I'm saying.

Southwest

2008-11-13T06:35:00.000-08:00

I've lost north.
If just for a little bit.
But it's the kind of shit that makes me want to kill small children, out of sheer annoyance, so I'm gonna re-center. It's a process. Involves isolation from de-northing agents.

Usually I don't give a shit about norths.But you know, I'm 21, soon 22, finding a north and a purpose and settling (not that I've ever truly rebelled) are what I'm expected to do. Or what I feel I should do. I also feel a bit idiotic for never having rebelled, like GIR does, and I feel more idiotic for that. I seem to find grandeur in stupidity, don't ask me how the fuck I accomplish such levels of majestuosity.

So, yeah, I'm re-northing. In the future, you'll see me focused and shit.
It'll be fun. Because I'll care even less about the whole lot of you, and since you love it when I beg for your love, you'll scream out in pain and it'll be MY turn to be sucked up to. It'll be fun. Prolly smells like cookies while you kiss my ass.

Anyways.
I'll let you know.
or not.
Who cares.

Why I don't want children

2008-09-23T22:25:00.000-07:00

Because the world is far too complicated.
Because people have actually managed to make the world less friendly to other people.
Because there's too many boundaries.
Because we're not making less frontiers; we actually build up more and more every day, and we even have the nerve to justify them.
Because we don't accept, we impose.
Because people don't take responsibility, they avoid it.
Because people take pleasure in fucking up other people.
Because our concept of "sticking to our own" and "brotherhood" relate solely to background, language and the fucking flag printed on a passport, and not on humankind or justice.

Because we still view "loving and respecting animals" as "keeping them as pets, but being nice to them all the while".
Because there is no going back from what we as a species have done.
Because people don't get to live: we get to survive.
Because it sucks to fight a predator that looks exactly like you.
Because it's a lost battle.
Because there's too much emotionally involved to risk seeing it all crapped up when you're 50 and they're everything that you taught them as wrong.
Because all the sensitive ads in the world don't even tickle the murdering silent campaigns that big corporations run against people, animals and the planet every fucking day.
Because everything has a way of biting you in the ass, and everyone has a way of turning around and slapping you in the face.
Because nothing is honest, nothing has one face, nothing is pure and nothing has heart anymore.

Because to find something that is worth your soul, you have to go digging in ocean soil just to get clues.

Because time heals nothing, time creates scars, and scars create scar tissue and scar tissue stays behind and hurts when provoked, even when you don't notice.
Because everything has potential to traumatize.
Because I wouldn't even know where to begin.
Because you don't have to beat up a child to leave it scared of life, scared to never be good enough, scared of never finding love, scared of never knowing where to go, scared of everything. And alone.

Because I'm afraid my own fucked up self might make me a bad parent.
And I'd know.
I'd rather not be a parent than be a lousy parent.

Because INDUSTRY is a horrible, horrible word.
Because humans are cannibals.

And because it's only getting worse.

Sorry if I'm not feeling very optimistic.

My Bubblicious Diploma

2008-09-12T18:02:00.000-07:00

You may not know this (actually, since my 4 readers are friends, you do), but I'm an illustrator. I graduated like ten minutes ago, sometime in August, and finished the career in... February. Right after that, I enrolled in Journalism school, to complete all of what I wanted as my formal education.
This happens:
You see, the place where I studied design, is one of the two (read it right, two, 2, dos, zwei, TWO) design academies in my hometown that are renowned as great schools. But since my country still has some problems advancing into the freaking FUTURE, we still don't grant all-art schools with the power to give out REAL titles. That means, I have a pretty diploma, but it isn't worth shit here, or anywhere in the world, as proof that I studied anything. I could have printed it out at home and it would still have the same value; it proves nothing and the Ministry of Education recognizes nothing but its equality of worth with candy wrappers.

So.
Problem Number One: I busted my ass off for three and a half years of my life to earn a degree that's worth shit; whereas I know I'm well educated and I wouldn't have done anything differently, it's not just A paper, it is THE paper that could tell the world that I DID DO SOMETHING.

So I went to sign myself in for second semester, but when I saw the classes I had to take, I noticed this one called "Graphic Arts". Naturally, I expected them to allow me not to take it, since I already devoted myself to graphic arts and they're my life _already_. I wouldn't be needing whatever they can teach me.
I tried to make that happen.
This is what they told me about the magical system that moves education:
My current university is a private institution. They are therefore, not lawfully authorized to recognize any previous education a student may have received from another private institution, without the certification of said education by a public state institution (like UCV, for instance).

So:
Second problem: This is what I'd have to do:
1.- Go against the mighty forces of my government and somehow get my degree recognized. As I hear, that means choking and drowing in bureaucracy for long enough periods of time as to drive you totally insane. I'll be sure to always bring a bag of cookies, no bra and that top I haven't worn yet because I'm sure my boobs will come jumping straight out at any moment. In case it's ladies, I'll be sure to bring my nail polish, and my worst baddest badass attitude, because there's no other way around those ladies; they only respond to rudeness and threats of beatings.

2.- After getting my degree recognized by the state, I'd have to go to a public college and get them to recognize that I studied design. Considering they'd acknowledge design as a proper career, which I've been told (by directives in one of those universities, mind you, not by the next drunk dude) that they tend not to do, I'd still have to wait what I'm sure would be a painful, heartbreaking fucking century to get my "stamp". Because I'm sure it's printing out a template, signing it and putting on it a pretty little stamp. It's the usual process.

3.- After that, go to my current college, and spend ten minutes there, while they stamp, sign, and throw your stamped, signed paper along with a copy of your stamped, signed template; one of your stamped, signed degree and one of your curiously, also stamped and signed ID, onto a pile of paper that I'm SURE no one has touched for the last couple of years.

4.- Keep in mind I was asked to return on the 25th sept-3rd oct for enrolling, so I have like less than TWO WEEKS to complete this process.

My magical very thought-through conclusion: I'll fucking take the subject.
It is, after all, sitting down, not listen, copy the guy's guide, and just vomit back what he said. I don't say this of all my professors, mind you.... just of the ones I KNOW are talking bullshit. Like the guy last year who said animals can't communicate... Yeah, what-fucking-ever, I obviously can't trust you to teach me shit, so I'm just gonna write in this pretty paper what you want me to say, and leave it at that.
I will give the guy a try. Just that every single one of his former students already told me that he teaches fucking NOTHING. So I'll cope.
Yes.
I'll cope.

The Ghostfaced Killer

2008-09-09T07:35:00.000-07:00

Don't you just hate it, when things disappear?
I hate it, particularly when "things" is actually people. I don't like people who just vanish into thin air, and then just never ever exist, to me.

It sucks.
There's this someone.
This someone who managed to drag me out of a dark hole, and who said all the right things at the right time. Someone I cared about. We're supposed to care about our friends.
And this person, this person was... really special. In a way that means that I called him fucking abroad, and he'd phone me back, just for kicks.

I have another friend who follows mostly the same MO as the previous fellow, but he actually comes back out of the fog from time to time, to talk and remind me that he still loves me and is a friend. Regardless of everything else. And we always make these promises never to disappear, but then we do, but we kind of know we can find the other when we need them, so it's fine to disappear.

The first guy just went AWOL. I wonder, how do you go missing on someone you called your lifeline like, ten fucking seconds ago?
Things disappear, I guess. They cease to exist.
I ceased being his lifeline, and I ceased to need one (sorry, Blog).
He would've liked this blog. My incessant hateful rants. He loved them when I shouted them at him, so I'm guessing he'd love this, too.
But you see, it's not that I miss him, like I did the first month he was gone. I have GIR, I don't need a guy abroad who I've never even looked in the eyes outside of a photograph to make me tingle; I have a guy I can go to, to feel tingly.
It's that it was big.
To me, at least, it was fucking huge. My first drunken outburst in my life I fell asleep with him on the phone, then my battery died, and I spent the following drunken hours kicking my real life friends and screaming because my phone was dead and I _wanted_ to talk to him. It was that huge.
Huge enough to turn my head left and see the sun rising and say "oh shit, I've been at this all night??"

It's not that I miss that, I'm not stupid. I don't miss the making out with AK and I don't miss the sleeping deals with Mars. But AK and Mars are both still _there_, with their lives, talking to me, inviting me to their weddings. Well... Mars, because AK is too gloomy for weddings. My point is that I fucking talked to his six year old daughter on the phone, it sucks that you left me hanging.

I don't know if it is that you never came back online, but in any case, you could at least have said something. Because it sucks this way.

I'm sorry for this particularly boring rant. It's not what you come here to read, but it's my fucking blog, if you want to read something in particular in the same blog, then create it.
^^

Anyway, Topher, if you were ever to read this, I miss your freakishly high, hairy ass.
You're still needed, even if it's just for quick hellos and updates on our lives. I hate it when important people just drop off the face of the earth.

And yes, I'm a huge fucking nerd. I don't care. And you shouldn't either, because hot nerds like me are hard to find.

The middle

2008-09-04T18:15:00.001-07:00

I like chemistry.
Not in the fancy studying test kind of way, but in a more... contextual way.
You can tell by the fact that, if you asked me anything about how the world and the species and life were made; how we feel, think, breathe, exist, emote; I will, undoubtedly, respond simply "chemistry".
It moves our world. Simple as that. They try to sell us all kinds of stupid shit that move the world. Love being the one I find to be the single stupidest one (it's an emotion, hence a chemical reaction, and plus, it moves nothing but fucking commercials and "life is good" tees).
I believe there's a couple of more realistic things that move the world, in various senses of "moving" it.
There's the whole physics and chemistry deal of which I happen to be so fond: we exist by chance, things happen because we find ways to alter said chemistry, and us and everything else are here simply because the chemical and physical conditions allow it, meaning: the only reason we do SHIT, is because those things keep happening. Trust me, the day chemistry goes nuts unannounced and within seconds, fucking Chernobyl happens and you end up with a piece of land that no one can inhabit.

And then there's what moves _our_ world, our reality, what we must face every day we're so lucky-slash-unlucky to open our eyes again.
And the only thing that moves that world is money, everything else is just a path towards it, and the only reason money moves our world, is because money... Money means power.
Fuck all that love crap. Love, goodness, tolerance, all those nice concepts our most beloved Hollywood flowers fight for every day, they're not profitable. And something that doesn't turn in a profit is something that translates into no money, no money means no power and hence... they move _nothing_.

There's only two ways (in my opinion). One is giving into the system: make it your life, your air, your blood. If money's gonna move you, then it's gotta do it right; you can't bend for the children in Africa unless it means painting you a facade that covers more moneymaking.
The other one, is disregarding it. Fucking the system, making nothing out of it because since it's just not right to you, you can't live like that. That way you'll probably end up knowing the world, living like a hippie and yeah, enjoying every second of your detachment from society and your inclusion into a seemingly parallel world.

Of course, there's always... the middle.
I love walking down middles.
Right now I'm pro fucking nobody in my countries politics, for example. In my opinion, they're all doing it wrong. Both are offering the same thing, in different disguises. But that's fine, since the mass can't have a lot of options without turning into insanity.

The middle, in case you care about what I consider to be the middle, would be _using_ said system to build what you want. Fine, you wanna make the world a better place, because that's what you believe? Well, good. There's a system. Use it. Cleverly. For you. In your favor. Turn it around. Bend it as much as you can. To the limit.
I don't want to change the world. Well, OK, I'd like to. But you see, I don't believe in that bullshit. Maybe I did when I was like 13, but at 21, you can't really buy into that shit so much unless you've lived under a rock. A very christian god-worshipping japanese-anime covered rock.
The reason why I choose the middle is this: I'm not a hippie. And the system sucks lots. There's things, little things, little contributions to the bigger fights that I'd like to make. And since going against the system or detaching yourself from it helps no one but your own weak little selfish brain (it's alright to be like that, it's part of humanity), the middle is the only smart way to do it.

Kone checked the blog today. I love her so much for it, I'm gonna give her a big fat tequila kiss tomorrow. Oh yes. Tomorrow is tequila day. Also stress day. After the little morning design ultrarush I'm getting, I'll tell you what it was. Surprise, surprise. I'm so magical.

I got a lollipop after writing this one

2008-09-02T14:50:00.000-07:00

OMG HEAAAAATTTT
It's fucking hot
Like fucking Miami
Or Sahara or the Valley of the Kings, whatever... sheesh...
I'm drawing today.
It's fun. I discovered this unbelievably freakishly great drawing and coloring tutorial that covers from lighting to practice to fucking photoshop brushing and it's amazing. And private. I'm not sharing. I'm selfish, I know. Boo hoo. So sadness.

Don't you just love it when you invite everyone over and no one ever comes? It's so fun, that's the whole reason I ever plan anything.
Story of my life.
And I don't even complain. I don't say anything, not anymore. I cried one time, when I planned something, and winded up alone in my gig as usual. So that's all fine.

It is entirely funny, because when I realized that's how things work, I stopped going to crap when I didn't feel like going. Meh, I rather stay in and have sex all day long today...... so, yeah, I have this headache and my mom's angry at me and I have to take my dog to the vet and this freaking COW just came in flying through my window so yeah... Imagine that amount of debris.....
Yeah....

Whatever.
It's funny, because everyone will take this in as if it were only written for them, and it's just an outing rant. I NEED THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM!
I can't keep quiet. Ask GIR, he usually takes the fall on these ones, when the smallest thing changes my mood, it's like I get totally blind on everything else. So saying it usually does the trick.

I'm not mad. Well, I'm mad at ONE of the people that did this last. They'll know. I don't feel like naming names. Pack a new kit.
Oh, well.
This is like the second fastest way to disappoint the crap out of me.
So... yeah.
I felt like ranting immaturely today :)
Welcome to my dark(er) side :)
I can be cute, funny, smart, sarcastic, effortlessly sexy, AND still act like a bummed brat on tuesdays.
Aren't I your most favoritest shiny little star?

Vote!

2008-09-01T17:18:00.000-07:00

I signed up on this voting thingy.
Anyway, you're supposed to vote for me, so click on these cute little blue buttons and vote for me!

Rehab

2008-09-01T15:51:00.000-07:00

I'm off Pepsi, starting today. As part of the deal, GIR is off doritos (and similar foods).
I for one, feel like I could use a drink.
Kone said something today about a bottle of tequila with my name on it. I'm not among the number one fans of tequila, but right now... it kinda sounds like fun.

God, I hate the taste of plain boring water...

Please, do leave me hanging.

2008-09-01T09:27:00.000-07:00

I hate human interaction because it's too fucking complex.
And just as you feel you're getting in, you discover you're not. Or you can feel you're totally safeguarded and then be left on the side of the road. Or whatever. It is always complex. Too many commands. No understood agreements, all words must always be fully spoken. Trust is harder.

Puppies are much easier.
There's an unspoken agreement between me and my dog. About keeping each other company. And about keeping each other's back. But we all know that when the time comes, he'll die doing his best for me, and I'm so human on the inside, that I'll get trapped in a mental blackout of stupidity, and just run for "dearest" life... and leave him. I hope I'm not like that. But most humans are. And then we can't live with ourselves because we know what we did, and most specially, to whom it was done.

We can only hope we know who we are.
I can, however, make a wish.
I wish that after this one, all the remaining afterlives, I'm born a puppy.
True, if we're humans we can have the fantasy of control. But I think it's best to know your reality rather than live in a dream.

BTW, comments are BACKS (the S was intended). You can leave them anytime, as jellybeans as usual.

Videogames, however, are a completely different story.

2008-08-27T14:24:00.000-07:00

I wrote my boyfriend this e-mail for his birthday. He said I should publish it somewhere, so I'm throwing it on here. The name of the post is partly a reference to the previous post, and partly to something in this one. If you don't catch the reference on this one, then go get a gaming life, because you need one.
Enjoy.

"It... all... just... happens.
Life, it happens.
To the best of us.
It's inflicted upon us, always as something we never wanted, or asked for, and remains with us, for apparently undetermined amounts of time, and forever with the question, "why is this happening", why am I here. What's it supposed to mean, that I look like this, was born here, live like this, like these things, do as I do?

"There are no answers. Even deep into the terribly unnecessary, mysticism-killing science that is psychology, there are, still, no answers. Philosophy, anthropology, any humanist branch of self-examination of mankind, they all come to the same chilling conclusion: there are no answers. There is no particular why, no particular reason.
This just happens to be quite a perfect chemical reaction, that created such unbelievable magic, able to sustain _life_.

"Life.

"The timed existence of species, with an ability to evolve according to their surroundings and needs, and also to reproduce, to prolong said stay in the planet.
We're not supposed to spend our lifetimes questioning our existence, our struggles, why me, why now, why this or that.
Exist, along with it, because be sure that there's only two things that can change your life: you, or sheer luck.

"Be sure to play the game, down 'til the last second.
And try to love every minute of it. I know you don't look at it as a game, but maybe, if you do, you can enjoy it more. Even the hard parts become just the dungeon in the Ocean King Temple, full of Phantoms with gigantic swords and random safe zones for you to hide from them, and the awareness of a puzzle with only one solution that will save your life.
And live the magic. You don't need a green hood and pointy ears and to have your freaking heiress apparent stolen away from you every living breathing second you're not with her, to see and enjoy the magic. And sometimes it's that magic what will help you out of the most troublesome of situations."

That's all, folks.

Nothing good comes from TV

2008-08-21T16:52:00.000-07:00

Life is a royal freaking pain in the ass.
It just is. And I'm quite sure, it always has been.
Why do I state this?
Because... well.. It's what I've seen.
So far, the only people I've know of, who don't seem to have a problem with their life, are two hippies and that Indian kid who spends months in apparent stupor talking to Buddha under a tree, without eating or sleeping or drinking or even freaking opening his eyes.

Today I read the most... downright stupid piece of self-righteous bullshit I had read, like, EVER. Ever, since Bush dared acuse any living soul of human rights abuse, without taking first a long, hard look at his guilty dumbface on a mirror.

There's this venezuelan actor named Luis Fernández. From what I've read (he writes a column on a weekly chick magazine that comes in a national newspaper on thursdays), he's the kind of guy who really, really thinks he knows the way to total happiness, perfection, and achievement. Total realization. The kind of person who never had to take his time to "know himself truly" because he was born knowing the kind of moron he was (only, as every moron does, he thought of himself as "really really awesomely clever").

Anyway, this raging asshole apparently had to withstand long hours of heavy traffic on Children's Day, because a manifestation for animal rights was being held somewhere up the road. Obviously, it put a hold on traffic flow, so it got (more) stuck. I wish, for the sake of his poor son, that what he spoke against animal activism on the article, was merely due to the understandable bother that grows consistently within a person while they sit boringly inside a car for hours, knowing they have to be somewhere.
I sincerely hope he was just upset at it, rather than actually just being a regular jackass.

In said article, Fernández mentions a young boy he saw while driving (or being driven) uptown from the airport in one of the barrios of the city, playing with sewage. He asks where is the mother, the father, the aunt, the clergy, the "dame's society" (beats the hell out of me, probably out having tea and discussing knitting somewhere in ENGLAND, idiot), when our children are out playing with poop. Of course he remained seated, did nothing and just looked at the boy in indignation and disgust. What was he to do, anyway?

Further down the article, as the guy comes up to realize the cause of such locked up traffic, he goes on this rant of blatant stupidity, asking why we should worry less about kids, and more about "a tiger who lives with air conditioning and what consists on a diet probably healthier than the kid's", and how "worrying about animals when our children play with sewage is pretty much an insult". Even mentions how we should do something about our kids, who are "on the path to extinction".

Here goes my response.
Now, I have divided it in pretty little numbers, as I assumed you'd have more fun reading it like this (or not, I just felt like numbering):

1.- "Children" can't become extinct, because a "child" is not a species, a child is the offspring of a human, and since humans are nowhere near extinction (and most likely towards being a plague), and most humans can still bear children; have no access, knowledge or will to wear condoms; and enjoy sex (and have it consensually and non-consensually), I'd say we have a long, long, LONG path towards ever being extinct. Fucking nuclear weapons are most likely to cause it, rather than sewage. Thousands of years of history will teach you that "boom" kills more, and faster than poop. (Poop is dangerous, nonetheless, so be smart and don't let your kid play with it, as it can get sick)

2.- I have a right to fight for whichever cause I see fair. If I thought that torture was fair, useful and needs to be applied more, specifically at elementary schools, I'd fucking fight for it. I'd be called all sorts of names and probably be jailed, but I'd give it a shot, or at least, I'd keep my beliefs. And part of being tolerant and respectful, consists of letting others SPEAK for what they believe. I'd gladly let you speak up for torture, so long as you know I'll speak up against it (and you should let me do it freely).

3.- If you can't see it from the old-age perspective of "you wouldn't like to have your kids being abused to do silly tricks or living in unproper conditions", then look at it from a selfish angle: if animals are there to keep a balance, and we fucking kill half and use the other half for circuses and zoos, do you really think that's helping the balance, or is it fucking it up? We need animals where they are, we need to respect them (grizzly bears are a great example of an animal who's grown an exaggeratedly violent response to humans, out of a history of abuse), learn from them, and give them the space they need. I love steak, chicken and fish, but it's fucking evil to treat cows and chicks like that, and if you eat all of the fish, not only do you leave behind a massive crew of hungry fish-eaters, but you face an overpopulation of whatever it was the fish ate. Nature has a balance to work right. And nowadays we see more and more of the damage we've done by constantly breaking it. Isn't it good for that sewage-loving boy that there's people caring for his home? There's tons of people involved in children and poverty charities, why go against animal lovers instead of those guys, who don't seem to have a lot of success with their fight?

4.- Further in the article, the guy actually insults animal rights activists, saying we're not satisfied with out lives, and that if we're really that unhappy, we shouldn't be dressing up in tiger suits and ruining other people's lives. TOTALLY UNNECESARY AND UNCALLED FOR. You can say you don't like MY charity, but to question our motives is completely disrespectful. It's like me, saying the only reason you care about kids is because it paints a prettier persona for you and makes you more likeable, therefore raising your audience and fame and fattening your pocket as your price goes up. Isn't it?

At the beginning of the piece, he mentions he's an animal lover who has always believed they should be left alone in their natural habitats, loved and respected.
Of course we all know that Indian rainforest has amazing air conditioning, and tigers normaly have enclosed spaces to roam "freely" while people walk by, staring at them.

What a great example for those soon-to-be-extinct children.

Growth III: The damaged eye of the beholder.

2008-08-12T20:25:00.000-07:00

Christian has a subscription.
Since he's got that, he gets entries by mail.
He replied today, noting that I didn't have shopping among my list of deadly sins (which now I've added), and then proceeded to rant about helenistic philosophy, centering on Epicurus and hedonism.
Christian made a note, among his rantings (very welcome rantings, of course), that if I was to consider growing up, I was to consider, too that it might actually be more effective if I took it more like a fun challenge instead of a tough one (fun is fun to do, tough is disappointing and prone to make me stay childish), and that I should take some things into mind, too, such as: needing less to achieve happiness.

I'd like to think about that one, if just for mere moments. Needing less. Less.

Less.

Less, so that the little things, become the more. Happiness is easily achieved. The easy side to hedonism; who needs an iPod when you can hear the music in your head?
I might think of it. The world as it is these days does its best to make it impossible for us to need less, but those who achieve it, they surely seem happy.
Needing less is not about living on basics because you can't get more crap. It makes one need less, makes us less dependant, less attached, less prone to disappointment and less breakable and more... survivalists by choice and nature. It's different from surviving because it's the one you landed on the big fat roulette of GOD.

I thought today, I'd like to travel. I'd like to travel, know places, see things; see the world from a perspective different from the roof swimming pool in this 5 star hotel. Explore. Feel something from it. I don't know what I'm trying to say exactly.
Except that I don't think I'm much made for staying here stranded, because I can't open much numbers of National Geographic without touching the pictures, yearning to be able to jump into the place they captured by just jumping into the photograph.

My mother exhibited this signs today, like there's no way on earth she can be completely pleased because she always hold such high expectations on everything. She's got this internet boyfriend now, I think they'll meet later this year. With her sky-high expectations, I can't say I'm not sad for the poor guy. I've been bitch-slapping her metaphorically because of it today, trying to shake that nasty habit off of her.

I show it at times, as well. It's annoying. Makes me feel like a brat.
One of those other childish things that aren't cute, that I still have.
From my little girl nature, let me keep only the cute stuff.
The rest, most of my innocence, the tantrums, the dependance, the inability to keep center and the need for someone on my back to do my things, drive them away.

There is a connection, which I'm sure you're all smart enough to establish yourselves.
Needing less, includes lowering expectations.
Why?
Because I'm sure warm bread tastes way better when you were expecting it to be stale.
See where I'm going?
When was the last time you were expecting the fuck of a lifetime, and after it was over you actually thought it was the best fuck of a lifetime? And when was the last time you walked in (or jumped into bed) thinking it would be the best fuck ever, and walked out (or rolled off the bed), thinking "meh, could've been better"?
I'm sure the second one happened more often.
Things are always about perception; when you fall in love with an ugly deformed person, you'll always see the beauty in them, even as everyone else tells you they're unsightly.

Tonight's rant didn't had much of a point or aim, in and of itself.
It is mostly just a reflection. It may aid in what concerns defining my path, and of course, the main course of this week-long dinner.... Growth.
Thanks to Christian for giving me something to rant about.
And thanks to my mom for lending a helping hand in that, too.

Maybe you're right, and it is fun.
I'll try looking at it that way.

Growth II: Addiction

2008-08-11T18:04:00.000-07:00

Today I took a shower first thing in the morning, put on my swim suit, and, upon looking at my mom, noticed she wasn't wearing hers. While walking to the hotel restaurant to take our included breakfast, I asked her why. The reason: she didn't intend on having a "wet" day. She wanted to shop.

And shop we did. Somewhere rounding 6, maybe 7 thousand of venezuelan (new) currency. Yep. So as you may see, we bought loads and loads of crap.
Among said crap I hold two bottles of perfume (because a girl needs to stink nice), 3 shirts (because a girl has to sell the milk and not the cow), a swim suit (again with that cow story, which changes in the beach), and some bras (for when the cow gets busy). The rest is mostly random crap, or hers.

Today's introspection concerned addiction.
We all have something. And addictions are what keep us grounded and preventing us from growing any further. For instance, a smoker may have some possible path of growth truncated because of the cigarette. And being so dependant on anything, prevents us from ever achieving any kind of freedom. What kind of freedom can you have, when you're deadly dependant on Marlboro reds?

Me, I have a few little deadly pleasures:
-Pepsi
-Sugary stuff
-Sex
-Guilty shopping (I buy on impulsive like a maniac, then feel sad for the money gone)

And the really, really, wildly scary one: DRAMA.
I don't know how, or when that crap happened, but I'm fucking addicted to drama.
I sincerely get the most ridiculous inner need to feel discomfort after I've reach a max of happy.
Like say I've had the most incredible week full of love and all about making me smile: I find a reason to crap it. In the process, I take lives, of course.
Lately, the process has a habit of taking on my life as well.
It makes me feel like things get a bit worthless, day after day. Surely they do not, but it's how it feels.
So I'm deciding, that stupid incline to make everything into a moronic soap opera everytime, it has to go. Die. No matter what it takes. It's too much, it's taking too much, and I have no idea (yet) how I'm gonna fix it, but I am.

I drew nothing today, or at least I haven't so far. I'm incredibly tired; running around town with bags full of the declared crap can be exhausting.

I haven't talked to the guy yet, I left a hello on his GoogleTalk, but he's on "away", so I'm guessing he left the office and the computer's running on its own. Maybe I'll give him a short call in a bit, I'm trying to give him some space. He needs it at times. Particularly when I fuck up.

Hopefully I'll stop fucking up (or doing it relevantly less often).

We'll see how tomorrow goes.
This was Growth for the night, fellas.
Good night, and good luck.

Growth, part I.

2008-08-10T19:41:00.000-07:00

Along the course of my life, I've encountered different series of events that force me to reconsider.
I suppose I'm not the only one; as we all grow old, we're faced with the events that constitute little wooden blocks to the non-stop process of maturing, events we're expected to overcome, hopefully with a certain amount of success, and thus we look at our reflections in the mirror and see... these disgusting little whiny creatures that need, desperately, to grow up, really fast, before we find ourselves vomiting at the mere thought of it.
This is one of those times.

They scare me, those wretched moments. Granted there's all kinds of things that scare the crap out of me; ranging from "severe panic" (major social interaction, exposure to spotlight, and things that look like physical pain), to "annoying little fear" (tickles, ghosts, bunny bites). I'm a pussy, I don't mind accepting that. It's only mature to accept one's shortcomings, right?
But these moments, they're a different kind of fear.
They're bigger, larger, they involve something that makes me shiver to my core, and it is... Me.
They're _all_about_me_.
They're moments to look at the mirror and find a way to say you need to change or say goodbye to life as you know it and love it, goodbye to inner peace you knew months earlier, because growth is not supposed to stop and you managed to get it stuck. And they don't scare me because of something stupid, like, say... I love how I am a lot and I don't wish, or believe I need, to change. It's because I'm never quite sure how to start.
But it starts a little like this:

By realizing the end is nowhere near.
And there's no use in pondering why it isn't and when will it come... leave that shit to witches and holy men. I am none, since I am all packed full of the evil at times and I'm a self declared sexaholic with a soft spot for the delicate pleasures of vodka, candy, caffeine and naughty kisses on inappropriate places. So all that's left to me is letting go.

Realizing, bit by bit, what is wrong, and then, without rushing, how to fix it.
Nevermind the rush, I'm 21 and there's no need for no rushing anything, particularly not my personal growth. This is delicate business, to be handled correctly, or else it gives a false impression of maturity that crumbles eventually back to the old depressing self.

It does, after all, constitute a process.

So welcome, to my process.
I have ten days to get it all started, at least.
I'm having a drink tonight, and a kiss to my cross, to pray that it will all work out for the best (the best being "what I want", since I'm a normal person, and it takes me long to admit that whatever happened, happened for a good reason; and before that other process, I will only want what I want, and right now, what I want, I know is for the best).
I will be documenting it all at nights, for during the day, I'll try to just breathe, and do as a very close friend always says to do: let it feel. Feel it, and embrace it, and look at it, and just maybe, give it a shot at understanding it, if it'll allow itself.

Enough is enough.
I've had enought of certain aspects of myself ruining what makes me feel good. I've had it with me blowing up what I love.
Let me put it as a message to a certain someone:

I LOVE YOU.
And like you, I don't give up without a fight. A GOOD, HEARTFELT, BLOODY ROMAN FIGHT. So you better be ready to let go and give me one last chance, because I KNOW this, and when I know, my dear, I KNOW, no matter how scared, I had been scared of it all before and I did it anyway; if I KNOW, then it is, I'm sure that it is, and it is for long, long, longer, you can't escape it and I don't want to try.

I'm sharing only my growth.
I'm hoping this little partial retirement from the city (and mostly, a 12 hour a day minimum of retirement from "ze interwebs") will allow some careful introspection. I need it, we all need me to do it, and I think it's time.
I think I'm ready.
I looked at the mirror today and I smiled.
Not because I was pleased, mind you...
It was because I only had one thing on my mind:

BRING IT ON.

Oh yeah, and welcome back to the blog.

Death

2007-06-06T07:21:00.000-07:00

My guinea pigs died this week.
Zaratustra, the oldest, died sunday morning. Lucrecia, her younger sister, died about an hour ago.
I can't say I've cried like this over anything.
I feel a huge part of me was ripped away and will never return.
I want my babies back...

It sucks, you know.
Asses like Chavez and Fidel and their crew and other moronic, ignorant, corrupted, ill meaning, ugly non-people that do wrong to everyone are still there fucking up. And my two babies, my two young babies left me. Two beautiful, loving, purring little furballs that did nothing but make me happy and make me smile and keep me company are gone to... I dunno, Rodent Heaven or something.

Makes me wonder if maybe there IS something better afterwards...
After the good ones have done our best to fix what the evil majority has done, we leave, more often than not sooner than we and everyone else wished, to rest in a better place, comfortable, without having to worry about anything.
I can't convince myself yet that I was a good mom to my piggies. I keep thinking I should have looked better for a proper vet, I should have taken better care of them, I should have... I dunno. I keep thinking I wasn't good enough a mom to them.
But they were ill, and tired, and Lu couldn't stay here alone, she wanted her sister too badly to fight for life hard enough.
They have both a secured place in my future webcomic as my Angel Piggies, to be honored forever as the amazing pets they were.
I don't care if people can't be less stupid and keep telling me that guinea pigs are boring and how can I cry like this over them and chill... it's not a person.
They were MY babies, my beautiful baby girls. Nobody knows how funny and cute and adorable and just endlessly amazing they were. You can't know until you've had a piggy of your own to carry around on your shoulder and that digs into your sweater because she's scared of people. You don't know until you've seen them when they're cranky and you try to pet them and they purr and wave their bottoms up. You don't know until they're purred in your arms or bathe in the morning or until you decide they're filthy and need a real bath and dip them in water and rabbit shampoo and they shake and try to escape. Until you have to hide in other rooms in the house to eat an apple or a salad because they go crazy over lettuce and fruits and they will squeal incessantly until you share.
I miss them.
I miss them now and I'll miss them forever, no matter how many pets I get. They will always be the pet piggies that are in my secret questions, my self portraits, the photographs in my cell phone, my photography works for 4th semester and my last two birthdays.

Farewell, baby girls. You will forever be remembered and loved. I'll meet you up there someday. Promise.

Bloody rugrats yell "haroo!"

2007-04-17T21:26:00.000-07:00

I know. I don't care.
Down to business.

I saw 300, not 30 minutes ago. In a cinema theatre, as I was told I was supposed to do.
...it's not that I didn't like it.
I think maybe...
It's just not based upon a comic that I would read.
In fact, a professor brought the comic to school once, and I just flipped through it and said "cool art", or something. The story... well, I have read the true story of the real battle that did sort of kinda happen, and I'm good with it. I don't need (or want, really, because it's not my thing) Frank Miller's depiction.

Everything I was supposed to look at as an artist rocked. To hell. It was freaking amazing. Kudos to them.
But I have my critiques, towards the rest of the movie, and here they are:

1.- Persians... yes, I know it's been said a lot, but it's just not the smartest time in the universe to depict persians as evil murdering madmen. Depicted as people that represent typically opressed, repressed, or forgotten minorities, like blacks, asians, handicappeds, homosexuals... I hold nothing against none, but a lot of people kinda do, and showing them in a movie as the obvious bad guys against the Men's Health armada... the traitors, the false idols, the tyrants, the slaves, the beasts, the bad soldiers. And then we can go and very politely ask Ahmadinejad to stop collecting uranium and if possible, please do not make a bomb to blow it up our asses.

2.- Garotas da Persia. What in freaking hell. How does Rodrigo Santoro ever allow that. I mean... there were times when I actually shivered, I mean... Come on, the guy stands behin Leonidas, puts his hands on his shoulders and says "it's not my whip they fear".... HOLY SHIT. You KNOW you got a little scared there. And the track voice for him... damn. Oh, Jesus fucking damn... That was just... It was like a bad rip off of the Mortal Kombat narrator voice. The guy saying "excellent!", "finish him!", "ride it like a cowboy".... oh wait... not that one.

3.- Some of the lines. I know, comic book... but had they been delivered more approprietly, perhaps sometimes it wouldn't have sounded so made up. I'm thinking David Wenham here, for one. And the Santoro trackvoice, a little, too. It was like that "they're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!" that got so spoofed, and with good reason, too, because it was the only line that stuck with me the first time I saw LotR simply because it was so horrifyingly over-acted.

...maybe I could go on. I saw it with GIR (the boyfriend), and even though he loved it, we still had some cracks at some minor stuff in it. Like the NippleCasting they conducted to pick the women that would be showing bare breasts, or "z0mgz look how fat Faramir got", or how the soles of their sandals seemed to be sticky, because they could climb on to vertical rocks with barely no effort.
Maybe I actually _could_ go on, but not really with so many real critiques as much as cracks at it.
It's a good movie, if you enjoy drag queens ruling the universe by opressing all other already opressed peoples of the world being crushed by the macho attitudes of perfectly sculpted men.

I remember that for a long time my MSN nickname said "Forth, Eorlingas!".
It was said in such a fantastic, epic, king-like manner, like for leading your troops into battle and victory, your troops of equals to you which were not animals.
In no way any of Leonidas' alleged catchphrases has stuck in my mind. I hold no respect for a king who barks at their men like that and gets answered a bunch of also barked "haroo".

Neways.
I'll make a post on universe or whatever later.
Someday =P.
Word.
Cheers!

Minirant

2007-03-21T06:59:00.000-07:00

Damn, I've been off the hook for too long.
Actually, school will probably suit me well. I won't be soooo hooked up on the happy that I leave the blog behind so much.
Oh, yes, that's right, people. School started. Again. This semester will be tons of fun, particularly in the sense that it has a huge bunch of stuff I don't want to do and I really want to graduate already so that I can move on to Journalism like I should, and get a kick start on my webcomic. Yes, webcomic. Thou shalt see.

Anyway, I should probably rant off about anyone acting like an ass.
But I won't.
What I will do is comment on something I read in a local newspaper I picked up from an empty bus seat two days ago.
It was just such an uthopic headline that this article had that I could not stop thinking of all the beauty in it.

"International Criminal Court could indict Bush and Blair".

It sounds so beautiful, doesn't it? Kind of like a dream. Like an article written for Innocents Day (our December version of April's fools). Like... like the Earth is finally over and we're reminiscing over all the beautiful things that could have happened but didn't. "I wish I had hugged more puppies", "I wish I had stopped more to smell the flowers at the park", "I wish Bush and Blair had been charged for their war crimes".

Dreamy, really, there is no other word.
Apparently charging Bush would be harder than it would to charge Blair, since the US doesn't recognize the Court's authority, or something of the sort, but the UK did sign the Rome Statute, and if Iraq signs as well (as Saddam Hussein intended to, just days before the invasion), well... apparently some justice could be done.
I'm crossing my fingers.

I'm thinking it's about time for another outburst at an entire culture that doesn't respect.
But not now. I have things to do. Bwhaha. I'll keep you waiting. This increases suspense.
I need to sleep better... it's affecting the blog. I had awful dreams. I saw them coming, too. Anyway... yes, stay in tune for a future beautiful rant over someone's utter state of stupidity! You'll be surprised. Or not, but let's just pretend you will. For fun.

The Comeback

2007-03-14T16:21:00.000-07:00

Damn that happy!
¬¬ it's got me so hooked up on endorphines I can't manage to collect enough bitterness to rant appropriately. Or to... you know, get off the Happy for a second to blog.
Whatever.
Errr the test was on saturday, like I said, it was... well, easy,...ish, I don't want to jinx it by saying that I nailed it. I didn't. Or maybe I did, I just don't wanna know. Not yet. Wait 'til July.

The blog's spanish-speaking sister is out already. You can reach her at Memorias de un Cartón de Leche, or in the future, by clicking on the link under my profile picture that reads just that, where it says "en español" (in spanish). She's already all hooked up and beautiful, just like MMC, and well... I'm just barely putting her up to speed, but hopefully that will be done by tonight. Hopefully. Remember the happy. Ecstasy doesn't suit me fully well.

Anyway....

I promised the next post would address Japan. You'd ask, Bush is in freaking Latin America, you should be all over that, and now we're addressing JAPAN?? WHY THE HELL?

Easy.
Japan fucks up too much in my book.
They really, really do.
In fact, they fuck up so hard and so much, that I can't believe we don't go on outrages about them as often as we do with other people. Maybe it's about the culture, right? They're so different, we feel entitled to rant off on the US or Europe when they mess up, but not as much with the Japanese, because well... they're... a different thing.

In our pretty beautiful globalized world where Gen McArthur wrote the godfreaking constitution upon which Japan's government functions, I'd say we're damn well entitled to coerce them into growing some sense, at the very least.
It pisses me off, the way they've been behaving lately, without a lot of regard towards no one, really, and decidedly taking no responsibility for anything.
I'm seriously sick of the attitudes they take towards everything they're ever blamed for, like if they deny enough that they're guilty at some point we will all get tired of blaming them and we'll find someone else to blame for anything.
The way they've decided to treat the women that THEY themselves (and this is more than just hurtful to them, or at least it should be) turned into prostitutes to serve the troops during the war, that they will not apologize nor give compensations because... well.. they just won't, it's absolutely unacceptable. As unacceptable as their policy on disregarding echology by hunting hundreds of whales and dolphins every year for a minimal economical profit that doesn't justify the brutal murder of an animal or the rupture of nature's balance.
When I was little I wanted to live in Japan. I said that once before. But the disappointment is so great. So huge, really. I don't think I'd be able to live in such a pressured and oversexed society that doesn't even take reponsibility for what they do. Their used panties stores and their preschoolers considering suicide aren't as appealing as... I dunno, godfreaking war in Chechnya.

And their utter blindness to their own problems, or their sheer will to just ignore them is just... disgusting, in a way.
Anyway.
I don't want to waste more time on them.

I think I'm gonna lay off Asia of a while. I've condemned them to enough damnation on my part already.
Take a look at the spanish-speaking sister whenever you like ^^. I'm sure you'll find her delightful. wrgfgfds

On a Wednesday

2007-03-07T06:11:00.000-08:00

Admission tests for journalism school are this saturday.
Nervousness and responsibility about that don't mix well with my happy, thus making it horrifyingly hard for me to blog properly.
I apologize.

I will, however, keep on the love. Memories of a Milk Carton will not be forgotten, just... delayed, for the time being, until my usual bitter self awakens.
I'm shaking it, don't you worry. I love my rantings.

I have, however, a little twin project to this one: it's Spanish version, for my non-english speaking friends. Broader audiences, and all that stuff.
I will begin translations tomorrow, as today I have an awfully busy day cleaning and bathing rats and just wasting my time in general, but, again, I promise none of them will be killed, not for now or for... a LONG time.
I'm just busy.
I'll be back.

Next on MMC:
- Memorias de un Carton de Leche
- Japan
- Why no one should choose a line of work that will kill them, but we just can't help it
- Anyone else who just randomly misbehaves

Word.
Really.

The Last King of Hollywood

2007-02-25T08:08:00.000-08:00

Last night my mom and I went to the movies, to see The Last King of Scotland. If you hadn't heard of it yet, now you have, and you should really get off your ass and see it. It's about Idi Amin Dada's rule in Uganda.
Great movie. I always kinda liked Forest Whitaker, but now he's one of my favorite actors ever. The white kid... James McAvoy, that's it, he wasn't bad either, but I think it's probably because he worked as eyecandy all throughout the movie.

Maybe that's one of the few things the Blonde Idiot liked about the movie.

When we got out, my mom and I were both startled at how Amin's personality resembles sometimes that of our current president. And then Blonde Idiot came down the stairs saying something like "I don't get what was so important with this movie, why is anyone getting an Oscar?"

*sigh*

That's the problem with Academy Awards. If an important movie that touches relevant subjects (like, say, genocide, dictatorships, injustice, mass murders, HISTORY, for cying out loud) manages to get nominated for an Oscar, a lot of people are bound to go.
I'm sure it's like that everywhere.
And one would think that's good propaganda for the movie, but then one would be fantastically wrong. Blonde Idiot is going to go around telling everyone that it's a boring movie about a bunch of black people getting killed a lot of years ago, that it's dull, and that the only parts worth watching are the white kid getting dressed, and the white kid getting laid.

She and her crew of morons around her were all actually wondering why the movie had been nominated for ANY kind of award, it being so boring and pointless and---- yes, at this point I really, really wanted to gouge Blonde Idiot's eyes out and put them in her hands and whisper something like "now try putting them back on".

Someone recently mentioned something about not paying attention to Academy Awards ever since Titanic won like a hundred of them.
But that's not necessarily how it should go. It is true that the movies that often win the Awards are blockbusters that didn't deserve it, like the aforementioned piece of cinematic bullshit, but sometimes it's not just crap that makes the cut.

In any case the Oscars are like everything else in Hollywood and shouldn't be taken that seriously. I mean, Blonde Idiot cares about them, which should be a heads-up for the rest of us.

Not it!

2007-02-24T04:40:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, where's everyone's favorite wannabe-journalist when you need her...
I'm sorry, it's been crazy over here, with finals and all. This semester is over, luckily, so for a little while I'll be able to blog regularly. We'll see what happens once class starts again.

So I left my blog for a couple of days, and I was forced to stop reading the news daily, too, and what happens? Everyone goes crazy. India finds baby bones in a bag, they get a train blown up, Evo Morales finds a way to pin natural disasters in developing nations on the Empire, a tiger kills a girl in a chinese zoo, Britney shaves her head and goes completely and totally 100% freaking insane, Cheney gives a sort of light threat to Iran, the sudanese president accuses the US media of blowing the Darfur situation out of proportion, and of course, my favorite, The Sinkhole.
I won't be wasting time in all of these stories. For example, Britney's tantrums aren't really worth it (yet), and as for the tiger and the situation in India... it's yesterday's news, literally, so you're gonna have to go 'omg' on your own.
The babies thing really was shocking, anyway. It's gonna be so funny when indian men can't find wives because they were all aborted or killed on birth.

Anyway, it's always entertaining the amount of things that the new Latin American Revolution can blame on the Evil Dark Empire of Nucular Terror. For example, last Christmas here was ridiculous, it had these government billboards that portrayed venezuelan-like nativities, the Tree and Santa Claus were accused of being weapons of imperialism and shit of the sort. The legend and origin of Santa, along with the tree, were not really as important.
This time, however, I happen to agree a little. It seems there's been the worst flooding in history in Bolivia, with thousands of refugees and losses and whatnot, you know, the usual. But what I find relatively amusing here is Morales' statement, that developed nations don't really give a shit about the people or underdeveloped nations because of their "uncontrollable thirst for industrial growth".

It's not that he's wrong. Because I personally don't think he is. Big governments, like the Nucular Empire's, are known for not really giving a crap about anyone but their.. money, really, even their people don't matter as much. So they don't stick by the Kyoto Protocol or whatever and keep on polluting and worsening global warming, which, as Al Gore once said, is bound to screw us over. The thing is, Latin America doesn't really have a lot of say in this thing about respecting nature and hippie-ing up, with their whole Gas Pipe Dream thing that requires chopping down a bunch of rain forest.
It's funny, isn't it? Global warming is no one's fault. It's like one day there's this summit and all world leaders are asked who did it, and they all raise their hands at one time and yell "not it!".
Un-freaking-believable.
Latin America's delusions of grandeur apparently don't count as thirst for industrial growth. They're simply... you know, development. That's fair play, right?
Idiots.

The Nucular Empire of terror has lately become everyone's favorite scapegoat.
I mean, I know, I'm not a fan of theirs either, but not everything can be made up/screwed up/worsened by them. Some things are bad in and of themselves, like, say, Janjaweed raiding african villages and rampaging and raping and killing. I'd say they represent a problem. Right?
Wrong.
There's no dead. They're... made up by americans, who screwed us up by making our situation worse, said Omar al-Bashir, leader of Sudan.
Actually, what he said was that the numbers were not all that huge as american media keeps trying to convince us: there's no ethnic cleansing, no rampage, no rape and not so many dead. According to him, it barely reaches 9,000 and he's not, I'll tell you again, _not_ financing the Janjaweed. And then he went on to rant about how we can all lend a helping hand in Sudan, as long as he doesn't lose hes sovereignity and supreme control over the country.
Now, 9,000, he says. Over an armed, ethnic conflict that has lasted about four years.
Hummm.....
OK, so let's see how my little research turned out.
I decided I'd compare a little, since what he says it's media word against government word and I'm not sure how to break that. So I looked up the levels of violence in my country, measured in an estimated of death per year. We are a violent nation, right? Insecurity goes higher and higher every day and nobody's really safe here anymore and all.
I found this 2000 article about violence in Venezuela. It claims _that_ year, year 2000, which was a hell of a lot less dangerous than 2006, the estimated dead by violence was around 9,000.
Hummmmmmmmmmmm. Really? No kidding? Wow. So, either the Janjaweed are nicer people than we thought and there's not really an armed conflict so much as a gang situation, or there's not a lot of people in Sudan.
It's that or we managed to become _more_ violent than guerrillas, and I should start counting my blessings.

I'm tired and this article sucks, so I'm gonna round it up with my favorite news article ever in the world: The Sinkhole.
I'm not sure if you understand what I find funny about it.
I know, I know, dead aren't funny, or refugees or whatever, I don't think they are.

What I find amusing is the big black hole from hell shaking the earth and opening up to swallow people's homes and... see the fun part?
Destruction at the devil's hand, see?
Apocalypse and all?
It was apparently just a bad sewage problem, but whatever, it's still damn fun to think it was Belcebub.
It takes me back to a classic TDS moment, in which they show a clip of Bush answering the questions of concerned regular citizens, and this lady asks if he thinks the war in Iraq is a sign of the Apocalypse, and he actually didn't know how to respond.
I mean, it's so obvious now, of COURSE it is!
A literal HELLHOLE just opened up in Guatemala, the end must be near!

...Ok, so in all honesty I actually DO think it's near...
But it is. Not my fault.

I'm gonna leave it here for now.
I'm tired, and hungry, and the article sucks.
I lost the grip.
Damn finals.
Maybe tomorrow I'll go back to my usual ranting self that's fun to read.
We'll see.

It's the whole "citizen of the Earth" thing

2007-02-18T07:54:00.000-08:00

If you've read the previous posts, or if you got my blog addy from my MSN nickname or any website related to me, you probably know I'm venezuelan.
And if that's the case, then you're probably standing there crossing your arms looking at me like I'm an ass because I say all kinds of things about what goes on in the world but barely anything about my country or South America, as if this was paradise or something.

I don't think it is, and I don't like the situation in my country, at all. I hate that we're soon going to be counted in the list of stupid people who allowed their governments to put up a socialism that hasn't worked ever, anywhere. I hate that we're allowing our freedom of speech to be cut down and that we're sinking in the rankings of Free Press and we don't seem to be doing anything about it. I hate that the majority of my people think that we're heading into justice and hapiness and progress when it's glaringly obvious that we're not. I hate to see how we're splitting up when we used to be a nation that could see above political, religious and ethnic differences, and sometimes even social ones. Now we're marked by color and the worse part is that it wasn't even our idea. We actually let a man, an ugly, uneducated, ill-meaning of a man to divide and conquer. If anyone ever wondered why it was important to get educated and informed, this is why.

Barely anybody has any idea what the hell socialism is, but it sounds good because the man sells it by saying that everyone will have a car, the rich will be stripped from their possessions and they shall be given to the poor, and we'll start sharing and giving and loving and receiving.
People have no idea what they're getting into because this ass comes using big words that aren't good, mixes them up in ways that make little sense if ever, and throws them around, and everyone goes "he said this, it's probably because he's so smart".

He's taking the longest-running TV network in the country off the air because they dared not please him. They dared tell the truth and expose the flaws. They never broke any laws or anything of the sort, which is more than can be said of the government TV channel, which feeds itself off of 50% red propaganda and 50% ridiculing any public figure with the nerve to oppose.
We don't like it.
I don't like it.
I'm not, and I will never be, in favor of anything that threatens freedom of speech.

The thing is, I don't find EVERYTHING that happens here to be THAT relevant.
Most of what he says has no impact on the rest of the world, whereas the issues I like to discuss do. The big issues, the ones that involve restraining human liberties and mass murder at the hands of political muppets.
I like my country. I don't completely ADORE it, because I can't, I can't feel that in love with my people or my nation as a lot of people can, but I like it.
I grew up here, I know it, I know the image we try to sell and I know what lies under the covers.
So no, I don't just stand there and weep for the sorrows of others while my people drown in crap. I just happen to think there are things upon which we should all frown. Things we should all feel concern us, because we're all human.
And there are things worth blogging about, and things that are not.
Thank you.

Asia goes crazy

2007-02-17T16:25:00.000-08:00

I feel somewhat compelled to actually say something about the latest, hottest news. Ot just latest, because, truth be told, they're not hot, they're about as boring as they can possibly get.
But I enjoy it, somehow. I've gotten boring with the years. And I'm only 20, just imagine what'll happen when I'm 30. Jesus fucking Christ.

Anyway.

I've been off the blog since yesterday, and thus I only remember so much of what I've read between yesterday morning and earlier today, but there's a couple of articles that stuck with me.

One of them was the beautiful display of stubborness by the Japanese, regarding their stupid whaling boat that caught fire and got stranded like 100mts from the world's largest Adelie Penguin colony, and now they just won't remove it.
Despite all the grudges between Japan and every animal lover in the planet about the merciless, pointless whaling issue, they have said it has nothing to do with activists; instead the fire broke out one fine morning on board for no apparent reason, just before daybreak. The state of the engines remains unknown as I write this (or at least the sources have no idea either), so it is uncertain if the boat will be able to sail again.
Because of this reason, New Zealand developed this smart plan that consisted on getting a Greenpeace ship to tow it away, out of fear that it might leak oil into the Ross Sea and endanger said penguins. Japan's answer was something along the lines of "we not be taking help from no Greenpeace pirates", arguing that so far there was no reason to believe there'd be any leakage (maybe they think the oil will be burnt with the fire), and that in the event that the ship needed help sailing, there was a japanese tanker nearby to aid it.

Now, I may sound like I think the Japanese are stupid. I don't, really. I just happen to think they're behaving like idiots regarding this issue. It's not precisely the best time in the world to stick their tongues out at the Greenpeace meanies that call them names only because they slaughter whales. Hell, if they must make it political, at least they could see at it as a way of looking mature and caring in front of the rest of the world. Like, "hey, we do kill whales and enjoy it, but it's just the whales, we have nothing against little cuddly penguins!"

We're gonna have to see how this evolves. Hopefully as we speak someone is towing the damn boat out of Antarctica.

There's happier news somewhere... north of the sad, next-to-be-glued-together penguins, where a Chinese woman who has been on house arrest for revealing some sort of blood counterfeit that infected a bunch of people with AIDS was allowed to receive an award in the United States. Apparently, the chinese police has been more than just bored with their time, so during the 90s they had a business that revolved around blood traffic. Whatever happened to drugs and prostitutes, now they go straight to the pain of giving a disease without the fun ride...
Anyway, this woman, Dr Gao Yaojie, was at first allowed by the government to draw attention to the illegal blood business, but as they got more and more annoyed by her righteousness, they started tightening a methaphorical knot around her neck, starting by denying her permission to go abroad to receive awards for her activism, and finally ended on house arrest to control the apparently very dangerous 80-year-old woman. However, they appear to have changed their minds about arresting an elderly lady for speaking the truth about the corrupt actions of their officials, as they let her accept a prize she's been awarded.

Last but not least, I want to send a big hug to everyone in Bangladesh, for saying what we all, as common citizens, need to say: we don't care about your stupid political bickering if you're only going to fuck us up in the end anyways. Do something for a change.
Bangladesh is full of stories of the difficulty of having a decent living, not only because of the extreme poverty in which half its population lives, but because of the increasing corruption from public offices and authorities.
It kind of is like that everywhere else, but in Bangladesh and other extremely poor countries it becomes more of a drag when you have to make money to live and for the bribes, because everyone wants to make money out of everyone, at every cost.
This is what makes politics such a beautiful art. It's all about luring people into believing that you'll change their lives, and then slapping them in the face and yelling "psych!", and then bursting into dance. I'm thinking maybe Tunak Tunak.

Technorati

2007-02-17T06:47:00.001-08:00

So I got this Technorati thingy. Here, have a look --> Technorati Profile ... I'm still not sure what it does, but yay, whateverness!
This afternoon (word) I'll say something about the very uninteresting news from today. Or not. They're really barely any different at all from yesterday's news. ....oh, wait...