Dave Chappelle's Best Joke

For people living outside of the States (and even for some living in them), Dave Chappelle may not be a known name. But for people receiving Comedy Central through cable television, the year 2003 through 2005 brought to them the Chappelle's Show. This show was very popular, but very hard on Dave Chappelle, not only from the production standpoint, but also from the audience itself, as it usually happens for a celebrity. It involves withstanding the idiosyncrasy of people worshiping you but not listening to you, which apparently is very common in the States. He stated once that:

You know why my show is good? Because the network officials say you're not smart enough to get what I'm doing, and every day I fight for you. I tell them how smart you are. Turns out, I was wrong. You people are stupid.

He left it all (including a salary that only Bill Gates wouldn't envy), and went to Africa to rediscover himself while all the Hollywood gossipers made up stories of him being in rehab or a mental hospital. He came back, and started doing stand-up like he did before his celebrity status and he's becoming one of my favorite comedians. He has done several TV specials, but in the most recent, called For What It's Worth, he really blew me away with two anecdotes. And yes, I'm giving him free publicity, not because he needs it, and even less considering that this blog is actually read by his demographic... or anyone for that matter... it just seems fair, that's all.

In any case, even though the first anecdote is not really a joke, he did hit the nail on asking the question "How old is 15?". He stated four cases: the first was in which apparently R. Kelly peed in one of his 15-year-old fans and was being prosecuted at the time (I think he still is), and everyone was flabbergasted at the thought. Deservedly so, yes, but the case was more in the matter of "Poor girl! She's too young to know any better", and Dave's point is that 15 years is an age in which, well, if you're being peed by someone, you probably already have made up your mind of if you like the idea or not. Then he threw into the table the case of a 15-year-old white girl that was kidnapped for six months; it was later found out that she was being held very near her house. During those six months a 7-year-old black girl was also kidnapped, but she escaped, came back to her house, called the police and had the kidnappers put in jail all in around 45 minutes. Yes, the white girl is 15, but c'mon! A girl half her age could do what she couldn't. "She's too young", you say? Really, how old is 15? And even more so when considering the fourth case: a 15-year-old black boy sentenced to life in jail because he accidentally killed his next door neighbor while practicing wrestling moves.

If 15 years of age is old enough to be sentenced to life, then I think it's alright to pee on'em. That's all I'm saying.

Beautiful! But the kicker came on the second anecdote. It was actually the last joke of the special, and, well, I'll let Dave do the talking in this one (sorry for the expletives, you'll just have to deal):

This' been the best year of my career, by far. I appreciate you guys watching me. Well, I do it for my kids, really, man. And my kids are off the hook. You think I'm a mad mother-fucker, wait 'til you see the two mini-Chappelle's. These niggers are off the hook. My sons are bad!

My oldest son is three. This nigger made me a necklace out of macaroni. That shit's ballin'. He painted the macaroni green and put it on a string. He tied on my neck and he told me he was proud of me. And I got choked up. And he thought I was sad, that's how smart he is. He said, "Are you sad, daddy?" And I said, "No, I'm not sad. You're too young to understand this, son, but this is fucking crazy. You used to live in my balls, man! Now you making jewelry out of macaroni! You're a bad mother-fucker!"

Long live Chappelle's!

That probably has to be the best joke I've heard come out of his mouth. Good for him. Long live Chappelle's, indeed.

0.999... = 1

Are you sure that what you know is true?
Click on the following thumbnail, it will open an image on another window that shows a very interesting proof:

You are free to distribute it, just try and give the link of this post. It is important to note that this proof was observed in the following links:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/0.999...#Infinite_series_and_sequences
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geometric_series#Formula

Some other proofs have been done, but they mostly end up tinkering with the value of 0.999... when it isn't possible; it's like trying to tinker directly with the value of infinity. Actually another hilarious proof is done this way, in which it is 'proven' that 4=3:

a+b = c
a+b-c=0
(4a-3a) + (4b-3b) - (4c-3c) = 0
4a+4b-4c - 3a-3b+3c = 0
4a+4b-4c = 3a+3b-3c
4(a+b-c) = 3(a+b-c)
4=3

The problem here is that a+b-c = 0, so that last step should be 0=0, because both sides of the equality sign is being multiplied by (a+b-c). This is somewhat similar to using 0.999... and then multiplying it by or adding to it something. It is not such a defined number to handle well directly, so every calculation done to it must be taken with a grain of salt. However, if infinity needs to be dealt with, the best way to do it is by applying limits, and, when used properly (like in the case of the proof I chose to show you), there's no denying what it proves.

So: 0.999... = 1. It isn't an estimate, it's an exact equivalency.

I tried my best to find a flaw in the logic followed with no success. I think that the thought of 0.999... being just an estimate of 1 has been put over my head for so long, that is difficult to let go... to let go of the past, and the misconceptions that came with it. It's a myth that one number can only be represented by only one decimal number, which gives in to the possibility that the Mathematics that we know aren't as rigid as they are thought to be. And that, in a sense, they are flexible and fluid.

It's a nice thought, and liberating in a way, but frightening in another (coincidentally: just like being in love). It is a test to abandon all gained knowledge and really consider all possibilities. All these apparently obvious paths that seem erroneous can lead to great treasures, but you run the risk of losing yourself in them if they are actually wrong, and looking like a complete idiot in the process. And, from what I've seen, the obviousness and gained knowledge are mostly right (they are taught for a reason). But sometimes, just sometimes, the Universe lets you see that it has a nice sense of humor, and that it likes to fiddle around with its children, surprising them, inspiring them, enlightening them of its wonderfully unpredictable nature.

Walking Days... in Plural

The day walked away from me today. Didn't do much, but got over some things. I'd be lying if I'd say that I didn't re-edit that last sentence and that I didn't hesitate to write this one, but I did, for both things. Sometimes I believe that I'm playing a character in a movie, and that that character should be a certain kind of person that is rightful, trustworthy, weird but innofensive, and just plain nice... but then I hesitate: am I being this person? Or am I being me? Then I realize that I really don't know who I am, just a weird mixture of personalities that I've met throughout my short years and have liked.

Interestingly, one of those personalities is very, very sincere, and really doesn't know how to say things, or how to act. I think that this personality is the one that is the most manifested in me; I don't know how to act, and I go into a serious state in which I just stand there, not knowing how to go about, feeling uncomfortable with my surroundings for no reason. Then another personality kicks in when somebody is putting attention: the talkative one, the other side, which is also very noticeable in me. There's supposed to be a listener somewhere in there too, but I haven't seen much of him lately; peaty, I really like him.

The day walked away from me today... the hardworking personality didn't come out; well, he did, for a couple of hours, but then the house maintenance guy popped in and got busy with other domestic things. I've grown accustomed to talk in plural about myself to myself, and I know it's not right to the point that I don't do it with other people around, but I feel comfortable doing it... we feel comfortable doing it. We're not well, we know, and even now, when we're writing this, knowing that somebody is going to read this, we feel the automatic need to write in singular... but now, that's what we are: plural, a bunch of needs, a bunch of moods, a bunch of attitudes that we put in when a certain situation arises. We guess that it is when another bunch of moods go along well with us that something in us kicks in and knows that it is when we multiply. We acquire new ways of thinking, new moods and new standpoints from where we foresee our future.

We're plural... but there's always this one personality that controls everything; or, well, there should be, from what I understand. What's mine? Where's mine? Could it be possible that I haven't acquired it yet? I will like to think that I have, since I've come back to singular again.

Yellow pads, padded cables, cable black, black camera, camera eyesight, sight of past, past tense, tense calm, calm door, door tree, tree forest, forest town, town agriculture, agriculture corn, corn chicken, chicken yellow... a chain of events that make up a sentence. A bunch of thoughts, a bunch of moods, a bunch of needs represented by two different things: a direction and a vehicle. The direction? The thought process that made about that chain of thoughts. The vehicle? The shell that embodies the thought process, in this case the sentence. And yes, while these are still singular, even the description of them still needs to be plural: a direction and a vehicle. Everything's plural, and yet I refer to myself as singular if I'm around a group of people (ironic, isn't it?). It's possible that it's easier to direct your attention to a person, not the group of thoughts and physical organs that make up that person.

In any case, I'll continue to refer to us in a way that my friends don't think we're completely out of my/our mind(s)... unless somebody states a preference for the alternative.

New song: Pao

Quick post:

There's a new song: pao (keeping with the 3-letter tradition). You can find it in this box.net public share or on the sidebar (if you're reading for blogspot.com). It's #9; hope you like it.

Remember, that if you do download the song (or any other one of the Just Three Letters demo) please comment on this post or on my MySpace; it's comment-ware music!

How to Write a Successful Application

I know what you're thinking. Well, no, I don't. But I do think I have a pretty good idea: “here's another guy that is saying the same old thing about how to write software”, and sincerely I'm not. If I would be, the title of this writing would've been How to Write an Application Successfully. This is not a guide to software programming, or to learn how to code. It is basically what to do before that.

The main topic here is: plan ahead, really ahead. I jolt at the idea of seeing the developer wanting to do a program that has already been done many, many times before (how many iTunes Cover Art displayers are there already?). So, before you do anything, before you even begin thinking of a line of code, think of the purpose of your new program. I know this is very The-Matrix-y, but bare with me, as I haven't seen this topic talked about as much as I would like to in Software Development forums.

A program has to fill a need; it may be a need that nobody has thought of before as needed to be satisfied (a car really doesn't need leather sitting, but when given the option, people usually welcome it). This can take ages to find, but it's what will give life to your program; is its soul, and if you don't provide it with a clear purpose of what you want it to accomplish, it will die a very painful death. Why? Because of our nemesis: enter confusion. Confusion is, in my opinion, the main reason for program deaths in the last 10 years. Users want ease of use as well as functionality, and if they don't get both, they'll look somewhere else or even may start to write their own application. In reality, because of this, even though the main purpose of your program may have been already used for making other programs, the sole fact that your program may be easier to use than others will gain it a lot of popularity. Look at, for example, the iTunes Store: they have sold over 3,000 million songs, and it still gaining popularity, all because of the ease of use of buying a song and put it onto an iPod and non-obstrusive DRM, regardless of the fact that there are other ways of obtaining that same song for free. It was planned from the user point-of-view, and was done with ease-of-use in mind.

So, the key ingredient (in my opinion, other than functionality; and the jury is still out on that one) is ease of use. I want to point out that this doesn't involve eye candy (shiny buttons, transparent backgrounds, and cool transitions); Mac OS X Developers love to throw this stuff around a lot, and, while I do appreciate it, I've seen that sometimes it actually adds to the confusion. Ease of use is just what it sounds like: that is easy to understand how it works, what it does, and what needs to be done to make it work. The latter is a very important subject: I have helped debug many different types of applications, and the top thing in the list of questions that I always ask the developer that are almost always never answered is “What is that you specifically want the user to do to use your application?”. If they do answer it, it's usually in the way of “I'll leave that to the end. I want it to work first.”. Well, it sounds logical, from a developer's point-of-view, but what happens then is that you've alienated the user experience from your thought process completely, potentially making your program clunky and difficult to understand. Not all users are developers, and even fewer think like one. It is important to mention that a lot of applications today (e.g. Microsoft Word, the whole of GNU\Linux) were developed like this (functionality first, rest later) and have gotten very popular, so I'm not saying that this method is wrong: it has worked on some occasions. However, do remember that there are countless seminars and workshops out there that teach how to use most of those programs, so their popularity cannot be attributed by their ease of use. Interesting side-note: the popularity of Linux drastically went up just after an understandable and easy-to-use graphical user interface was added to the mix.

If you're still around, you're probably asking “Ok, then, so how do I make an easy-to-use application?” This is where the planning way ahead pays off. After you've decided what is it that your application will do, sit down (if its possible, with a graphic designer) and design your graphical user interface first; every window, every word, every instruction that is going to appear. Show it to people you trust that don't have a developer background, ask them to do a certain task and see if they can figure out how to do it just by seeing the application interface sketches. Is silly, I know, but the information you get from this stage is golden because you're already debugging your software without having to write code. A lot of major changes done to applications occur during the testing stage with people outside the software company (known as the Beta stage), and usually they are changes to the user interface, and sometimes these changes imply a major change of the functionality of the program, which means that you'd be working backwards. If you do it beforehand, a lot of these major changes will be taken care of before the developing stage, when you start to actually write code. Now, doing this will also mean that you'll be working in an uncomfortable position: going this route, it is very common that the decisions made in the designing stage make the developing harder, longer, and more frustrating. This is because your developer mentality is telling you that if the whiny little user would learn to use your program a way that you know would be easier to code, you wouldn't need to be spending an extra hour everyday working around it. However, it is important to keep remembering that in this arena the user is not obligated to work hard, you are; and that this hard work will pay off.

By the way, we're still not in the developing stage (that bit was just a preamble of what's to come). After the designing stage comes the pre-developing stage, in which every part of the design will inspire a part of your code. Every button and menu item becomes a module of code that can be called at from every part of your code. In this day in age, most high-level languages (like C#, Java, etc.) are object-oriented; follow that path, extrapolate it. This actually makes the developing stage easier to delegate, which in a software company of more than 5 people is very important to do. When you have planned all your modules, order them up in priority, assign people to each of them, a time frame for each, and start coding. By this time, you should have a pretty good idea of when a first draft of you application should be finished.

When it's done, and you've tested it yourself, go into the Beta stage. I know we kind of already done that before (designing stage), but it's important to reiterate the information you've used; besides, no programmer is perfect and bugs will come about, and this stage will shine light on many of them. If there are any bugs, finding where they're hidden is simple as you now know what module is connected to what part of the application: if the user clicked a certain area and caused a bug, it's just a matter of checking which module is connected to that area to get an initial track of the bug's whereabouts, following it to its home, and squashing it. I know I'm oversimplifying the process, but you have to remember that one of the hardest parts of debugging a program is to find where the bug begins: that is why every time you hand in your computer to a technician because of a problem it has, and a week later it's returned to you without any fixing because “The problem could not be reproduced”. This is also important for when you start adding new features that your users want, as it would be easy to do so because now your program is modularized and adding in to it is easier then it would've been otherwise. Obviously, this also applies when after you publish it and still getting bug reports and feedback on how to improve it: fixing or modifying your application will be more straightforward.

In any case, from then on, the way you publish you application, how much you charge for it, if it's open-source or not, etc. is completely up to you, but do understand that it will also dictate in some degree how popular it may become. I won't get into the details of how you should go about this as it is a completely new subject unto itself, but I will say this: most donationware/open-source programs out there have become increasingly popular and self-paid for. I'm not measuring success by the amount of money you get from the project, I'm measuring it by the amount of people that are using it. And, frankly, I think this is the best way of measuring it, and the only way of enticing people to use it is to make it understandable and easy to use.

All of this can also be applied to any kind of application, like websites and even security systems. To quote Bud Tribble, Vice President of Software Technology in Apple Inc:

We spend a lot of time making the security features easy to use for our users. [...] As a result our users keep their systems up-to-date. [...] We paid attention to ease-of-use.

[...] Our security principles are actually very simple:

1. Good security starts with design, not something you slap on.
2. Good security is easy to use, security that is not easy to use does not get used.
3. Good security continues to improve, it's not a one time deal, it's not a one shot, it's something that we are continually paying attention to with every release.

Remember that this a company with an operating system that hasn't had any known virus out in the wild (another subject unto itself), so their impressions on this subject are very relevant.

I'm always looking for a good debugging project, I love answering questions about this subject (it makes me feel smarter than I really am), and I love debating about this and other topics. If you have any questions or comments about this, feel free to post them here and I will make sure of answering all of them.

Quick Post about Box.net Widget

Just a quick post (I swear).

Box.net is the bomb. I've been using it for a long time now to have a place for my demo to be downloaded from, and some other stuff as well.

Just recently (meaning, around five minutes ago), I saw that I can also build a widget, provided by Box.net, to display certain files from my account. And, if they are music files, you are able to hear the song from inside the widget. Have a try, it's in the sidebar, in the "More About Me" section.

For anyone that is reading this from inside Facebook: go to my blog; it'll make more sense there.

Remember: it is comment-ware music. If you hear it, just comment in this post with some feedback about it.

Have fun!

We

Back to reality, cold in me.
Throat sinking and not only from the writhe of the now ever-present, ever-confusing clouds, but also from the ache of the now ever-absent presence of my loved everything.

Back to reality, headache-ly.
I'm getting tired just thinking of the return to that life; but enthusiastic about it nonetheless. It's a bittersweet feeling, I think is the word; a crumble of tasty mud running through my gums, although disgusting to the touch, it is cleansing.

Back to reality, and sleepy.

Back to reality, truthfully.

Back to reality, lonely.

I feel like crying, again, and I might later on if energy none-withstanding.

I feel like running away, again, and I am, in a way, from the other reality that is my hometown.

I feel like the same, again, but I'm not... I'm not... I don't know how I know this, but I feel it. Not too different, of course (this writing is evidence of such), but enough to notice it from a couple of years ago.
Is you, isn't it? I might resolve that a person changes in small ways, in small increments through time, which may be right, but there was a jump, a big step recently. It was you, wasn't it? How? Why? It can't be possible for me to feel this importantly towards you without the pressure that comes with it... is it my wish coming true? Or is it that I'm so accustomed to pressure that I'm not feeling it? If so, is that a bad thing?

You're not here, but you're present... you're there, but you're not. You're becoming the breeze behind my ear when sleeping, the creative thought when typing, the whisper that wakes me up at night. Where are you? And how come I'm so at peace with not knowing? Am I truly not letting myself control this? Am I really sitting this one out and see it play itself out? Are we winning? Why is it that I don't mind if we're not?

... Ja! Because we're plural now ... we ... Nothing else matters, we are we. We are bound, we are going to struggle, we are we and that makes all the difference: it is we now, not you, not me, but we ... although a little bit late: welcome ...

Rainbird

It's raining
two birds in my window
looking for heat
reasoning my query

Am I warm? Am I here?
Feels like over there
like I'm still where
it's always raining

But I know I'm not,
feels like I am
and the two birds
tell me "you're here"

She's here, feels it,
but it's raining,
and she says the same

One bird stays,
the message is clear:
I'm here,
but I'm almost there...

Shingo and Jesus

I've found a very interesting topic to talk about, but I saw myself hesitant in writing it. However, as you may have figured, I never ran away from a writing idea. I'm very impressed in how much sense of humor does the human being is capable of possessing, as well as how little.

There's this little village in Japan called Shingo, formerly known as Herai, which claims that in its burial ground there lies the grave of Jesus. The town's legend even goes as far as saying that Jesus didn't really die in the cross and resurrected later on, but that his little brother Jsus Chri took his place; Jesus escaped to Japan (where he studied theology for 12 years, apparently, prior to him going back to Judea and being arrested), formed a family with his wife Miyu and died at some age greater than 100. The town has actually made the whole issue as a way of tourist attraction with a museum, dancing spectacles, etc.

The truth of the matter is that, well, this is really just a tourist attraction: the town had financial problems and the town prefecture came up with this idea to bring in extra money, and it has payed off. They even have the Garden of Eden somewhere! The story is very well made up, with bogus documents to supposedly back it up, there's also a lot of "unknowness" to the whole thing (nobody knew where this buried person came from, there is a song that is sung at every festival that nobody knows what it means, etc.), and there's a lot of technicalities added in to increase the level of apparent veracity (Jesus signed a document as "Christmas God" at one point). It is really quite amusing and, from the looks of it, the town people actually see it as a type of dōjinshi (a sort of fan fiction) of the Christian story. Besides, tourists that go there to see the tomb are welcomed with other forms of entertainment and sight-seeing that make the trip worthwhile even if they don't buy into the whole thing. I'm actually now interested to go there and have a laugh myself.

I won't bore you with the views of the persons that see this as an abomination, but will, however, state that I think it's a good opportunity for them to laugh at themselves. It is very interesting how the Christian religion is perceived by the Japanese, and the fact that they accept it so openly is very inspiring. In any case: it's a joke, yes, about a very prominent figure, yes, but it is not harming anybody; quite the contrary, it is helping out a whole village in need, an idea which I think Jesus would've liked. I'm quite amazed at the degree of humor these people have, and humbly take my hat off to the amount of time they've maintained it: more than half a century.

I wonder if they would have done the same with the story of Muhammad...

CONACYT and Free Will

It's official: I have sold my soul to CONACYT and I couldn't be happier. I'm still not sure what have they actually agreed to pay: I asked for the complementary part of my second year and the third one, plus living stipends for both years. Some colleagues mentioned that if CONACYT helps out, it will try to help out with everything since the point that you're accepted, but I doubt it: part of the application also asked for a date in which to start helping. It's ok, though. My first year is covered (thanks Mom and Dad).

Interestingly, this scholarship was not absolutely necessary, but it will help out enormously. I had a talk with my mom last Thursday, and we came to the conclusion that whatever happened had to happen: a path lies in front of me, that I'm building, but sometimes, just sometimes, the path needs to take certain turns. These are hints, really, of where you need to be.

No, I don't believe in destiny, because we were created with free will, and, thus, nothing can decide our mortal future other than us. However, outside that realm, inside the limitations that we are living in, free will is a fabricated thing, but it is aligned with a greater thought: there is purpose for each and one of us. Like when coding a computer program: the realm (the computer) is limited to do certain actions, and there are lines of code that we, the programmers, want the computer to do and, frankly, without caring how it carries them out. Yet, between the lines of code, between commands, the computer program is actually going through a whole array of random successions, specifically because very unpredictable electromagnetic fields required in the baseline of the computer make up the whole base of operation for the computer program. We act very similarly as those computer programs, and you can consider as the programmer whatever you want to consider divine (God, Nature, etc.). We are capable of doing whatever we want inside this bubble that we are living in (called Universe), but there are certain things, subtle things, that I feel are hints of what we are suppose to do here (our lines of code). We aren't aware of these lines of code because they're either too far away or too incomprehensible, the same way a computer program is not aware of its own purpose. This is also coupled with the idea that there are things that we are not able to control: like the decision of a group of judges of who to give a scholarship. This, however, reveals an interesting concept, as all the judges have their own purpose, and their own free will, so the overall purpose of the group of programs (us) is greatly influenced by the interlocking individual purposes of each one. It is rare that the programmer has to actually get in and shift the Universe gears (by means of weather or meteorological effects), and even then it can be argued that all of the things around us which we don't have control over have also a purpose (maybe a simpler or more complex one than ours) which interlocks with the global purpose of the Universe. This makes all of this quite a complex but beautiful structure: I have an overwhelming respect to the author of this code, it is elegant and goes about very efficiently.

Thank you Programmer, for the opportunity. I'll keep on doing what I feel that I do best... I can't wait to see what happens.

Corpus Christi

I got the following chain letter a couple of days ago:

Translated from Spanish: A movie in bad taste is coming out soon in North America. This film, titled "Corpus Christi" (Body of Christ), shows Jesus in homosexual relationships with his disciples. It is a repugnant parody of Jesus. Nevertheless, action from our part could probably change things. Would you accept adding your name at the end of the following list? If so, we could avoid the distribution of this mocking, untruthful film which doesn't contribute anything positive. WE NEED LOTS OF SIGNATURES.

"Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father." (Mt. 10:32)

Unfortunately, I have to admit that I needed to correct some grammar mistakes, but the idea is there. The e-mail address of the person which will receive it after 500 signatures have been gathered is given afterwards.

First off: no such movie ... that talks about this topic ... has ever been in production. I don't want to seem to be anti-religious: I have a lot of religious friends and love them dearly. This rant is about the prejudgement some people (being religious or not) have over something that apparently they have no clue about, and this cannot be a better example of it. They are asking people to sign a petition over a movie that doesn't exist, only because it might probably deal with Jesus in a homosexual manner.

Apparently this rumor was started almost a decade ago, which relates to a play of the same name that talks about the life of a gay man called Joshua who is beaten up in Corpus Christi, Texas. He eventually flees the town and comes back with 12 friends/lovers just to be betrayed by one of them: Judas.

It didn't surprise me when I also found that they were also a group of a people that protested for that play too. Many of which didn't even see the play... what if Jesus would have been portrayed as an attentive and generous lover? I think that it is reasonable to believe that, given that he'd be homosexual and non-celibate (which is debatable, but not the point right now). But oh no:

Jesus was perfect. Jesus was always right. Jesus never had intercourse: how could he?

No, don't touch my Jesus!
Jesus was not human!

Is that the point? How disappointing: I would've thought that Jesus would've wanted for us to converse, to find a common ground through him about what it is to be human, to be flawed. Isn't that part of the Bible's teachings: find ourselves through him? Then why stop the conversation about what one particular person thinks about him?

What do you think about Jesus? I think that he was great! Good! Next? Good deeds all over. Ok. How about you? Interesting ideas, but I think he's a little over-hyped. How dare you not like Jesus? Get out now!

Mmm... maybe that's how all the religious confrontations started then: not listening the other side. And if that weren't enough, I found the following review about the play written by somebody that actually saw it:

Jesus and his apostles open the proceedings by explaining their roles. They are all presented as ordinary people in professions ranging from hairdresser and hustler to the usual doctor-lawyer-indian chief professions. The "real" story is all there -- Nativity, the Sermon on the Mount, the Last Supper -- but with substitutions to add the right degree of up-to-date relevancy. True to the title, Joshua is born in a motel room and grows up in the playwright's own home town of Corpus Christi, Tex. Sex while suggested is never graphic and the four-letter words should offer few surprises to today's theater goers. How original did the critics find it? Corpus Christi's originality came under universal attack. Ben Brantley of The New York Times launched into his review with "The excitement stops right after the metal detectors." After summing up the security procedures he went on to say "That's pretty much it for pulse-quickening drama. The play that brought an outraged chorus of protest even before it went into rehearsal is about as threatening, and stimulating, as a glass of chocolate milk."

CurtainUp Review

I wonder, though: what if the play would have been about a black man in the apartheid era? Or a woman during the Civil Rights movement? The protests would have been very interesting, don't you think?

Pink Ribbon Search

Quick post:

I found this organization (well, technically, they found me through Twitter) which not only is helping out in something that I think many women have to deal with in a very intimate way, but also doing it very innovatively.

Its goal is to raise $1 million dollars towards breast cancer research. The way that you can help is easy: want to search for something in Google? Instead of using Google's interface, use theirs. That's it. The results are going to be given by Google, so you won't lose any information, and you'll be helping out in the process.

It is very interesting how the Internet is being used nowadays, and I feel very proud of these people for coming up for a solution that not only is probably going to be very effective, but that it also is very easy for the user. I guess that Google is a big factor in this, so kudos to them too.

... I promised that it was going to be a short one this time, didn't I? Mmm... Ok, ok. Bye.

EDIT: (2008-08-12) I've taken down the Pink Ribbon Search logo because it apparently isn't in service anymore. If it comes back up, I'll reload the logo.

Peace in Writing

"Obra Poética (1935-1988) de Octavio Paz", edited by Seix Barral. Pg. 11:

Los poemas son objetos verbales inacabados e inacabables. No existe lo que se llama versión definitiva: cada poema es el borrador de otro, que nunca escribiremos...

All poems are unfinished and unfinishable verbal objects. There is no such thing as the definitive version: every poem is the draft of another, which we'll never write...

---

Destino del Poeta

¿Palabras? Sí, de aire,
y en el aire perdidas.

Déjame que me pierda entre palabras,
déjame ser el aire en unos labios,
un soplo vagabundo sin contornos
que el aire desvanece.

También la luz en sí misma se pierde.

Poet's Destingy

Words? Yes, of air,
and lost in the air.

Let me lose myself between words,
let me be the air in a pair of lips,
a stray breeze without borders
which the air fades away.

Light can also lose itself in itself.

---

Oh, Tavito, please guide my fingertips in these auspicious of times in which inspiration is a luxury. Please whisper the words that will create this mocking white into the orgy of blackness I long for. Stroke the back of my head oh so gently when I'm presuming of logic that oozes from this useless ink, when it is beauty that should ultimately stand anywhere a mind tries in mumbles to describe itself. Pat my back when the sentence here is undone, undoable, but, nonetheless, beautiful...

Dr. Paz...

I know you're here, somewhere. I know I haven't written to you, but you haven't either. We're both here: point me to where I left it back then, you know I'll keept it right, you know I'll bring it unsane. I'm not asking for a complete work, just a word, a letter, a dot of ink... the start of it all, the prelude to the waterfall of soft feathers that mask and reveal my children to those unfilled, unsatisfiable glasses. You're here and I can't hear you, can't feel you: alone as I suspect, as I've been always in this type of venture, in this my only true endeavor.

Fine, I'll ablige... I'll spread my hand like a caricature trying to simulate wisdom, and act as the gardener in a forest of weeds, trying to find the rose inside it. It works, and only seemingly when you stay mute; I know what you're doing, but I'll ablige. Trying to guide me by indifference like a youth playing poet: complimentary in a way, insulting in another... I deserve both, so I'll ablige.

Now you know: if it's undone, you're to blame.

La sabiduria no radica en la fijacion ni en el cambio, pero en la dialectica entre los dos.

Wisdom lies neither in fixity nor in change, but in the dialectic between the two.

If not now, when...

Anybody that knows me well knows that I get most of my revelations through comedians. And I mean good comedians, like George Carlin, Bill Hicks, Robin Williams, Doug Stanhope, Eddie Izzard, and Lewis Black.

I finished hearing the Audiobook of Lewis Black's book "Nothing's Sacred" a while ago; I'm not that much of a reader and it was read by the author which made it an intimate experience. Almost at the end, there's this little chapter after another one in which he tells about the time he went to the Yale School of Drama for his Masters (like I said, good comedian). He was going through a weird time because of some trouble with the head of the department and some teachers we're giving him grief:

Going to the Chapel
"And the Lord spoke unto Lewis, but it was too late."

Since my head was on a continuous spin cycle at the drama school, it made perfect sense that I would get married at this time. The wedding took place in the courthouse of Rockville, Maryland, with just my immediate family and her's.

Directly following the ceremony my brother and I walked out the door just as two officers of the law were passing by with a prisoner chackled between them. I looked at my brother and said:

When God sends you a message, he certainly makes it loud and clear.

The marriage was finished in less than a year.

I'm not saying anything bad of getting married (if you love each other, go for it). This post's more of divine 'messages'... and, yes, when He speaks, He absolutely grabs your attention.

Ignorance's Bliss

Take a close look at this painting:

What do you think? Not bad I would say: good use of color (a little bit too gray, but I like it); the sky's weird but nice (good blueish, reddish color). It's a depiction of Laon, France, by the way, and it's author is Adolf Hitler. You can see his signature on the bottom left.

Now what do you think of the picture? ... eery, don't you think?

What changed, though? The author, yes, but what difference does it make? Is a person that is supposedly 'evil' (which, my mother would say, is debatable; weird parents, I know) ultimately cursed in such a way that everything he/she touches is doomed to be flawed? What would happen if history would have portrayed him as just a puppet of his generals (ejem...)? Would this picture be now seen as 'lacking of artistic maturity'? Painting and leading a country are two different things (I can't believe I just wrote that): how come one influences the other?

I've gone through my years absorbing art pieces, specially in music and photography, and every time I come around to something that for me is new, there's somebody else that says "mmm, that sounds/looks like something from such or such person". "Is that good or bad?", I usually reply. "Well, such or such person did this hideous thing!" or "He/she's considered to be a great musician/photographer!" The thing is that I still don't get it: "So?" The conversation usually ends there.

I've talked before about dealing with an argument in such a way that the reputation of the speaker of such an argument doesn't influence the veracity of it. A close-to-passing-out drunk may tell you that drinking like he does can kill you; it will be hard to believe him, I know, but his statement is still true. Ironically, in this case, it may even help the argument along...

However, now I'm looking at it in aesthetic way, in the artistic sense. The way our mind works, for some reason, does not only take in what our five senses are dictating from the piece of art, but filters it by way of what we know about the piece of art. We arrive to such pre-judgmentalism to the point of changing what we feel about a painting just because of who painted it, not because of what is painted and/or its artistic quality. That could very well be what Picasso meant when he said "The quality of a painter depends on the amount of past he carries with him." just instead of 'amount', is 'quality'.

I guess that is why I like about not knowing that much about art or music history. It, in some way, hasn't vaccinated me with such pre-judgment. I'm not saying, however, that I don't pre-judge, I'm human after all: I don't care much for Iggy Pop (put on a shirt, man!) and Nelly Furtado's music at one point wasn't as attractive as it is now that I've truly listened to it. But, at least is nice to know that if I hear The Killers playing Shadowplay in this year's NME awards I won't immediately turned to a bystander and say "these Joy Division wanabes don't know what they're doing". It would be more like "God, that guys sings horrendously!", just to later found out that it was Ian's words all along and that, yes: he may have written the lyrics of the soundtrack of our lives back in the day, but, boy, was that some ugly singing! Yeah, that's right, you read correctly, and I'm not too happy about The Doors' music either... comment away!

Anyway... what I've come to realize is that ignorance's bliss. Not too much though, just enough to have an open mind about the whole thing, and hear/see it with the ears/eyes of a child who doesn't know better, who doesn't know worse... just tries to know from his/her everknowing gut, and just simply likes or dislikes judging from what his naive little heart determines... the mind is way overrated in these kinds of things.

The Noose

He woke up one day, like any other day. Turned on the radio and waited for the always-present news of his one-man hunt. He had been turning live beauties into hanging dead stacks of meat; it was plenty fun, the feel of blood combined with the dripping of tears was an amusing job that took all day to do. He liked to hang them with his favorite knot; he liked to swing them, gagging from the neck, while he was raping them. The smell of the resulting pulp seem to always have his alcoholic smell and of whatever girl he slashed up... it was probably the only way he knew how to connect with them, how to join together his and their essence.

You can't really say he was doing this out of ignorance of morality: he knew it was wrong. He was aware of the pain of not only what he did to them while they were alive, but also the shame produced of whatever he did to them after they stopped breathing. He was evil and he knew it; it was liberating, it was fun. The sensation he felt when he heard on the radio that he was now the most-wanted man in the country gave him a hard-on that signaled him what he needed to take care of... again. "A never-ending cycle, I kill and they celebrate it as if they want me to do it again... morons, beautiful morons."

He stepped outside and began wondering as he'd always done years before. He's surprisingly patient, as this is the foreplay of his endeavor. He was putting his hand in his pocket to stroke himself, to maintain his erection, when she caught his eye. "Next meal up ahead", he moaned to himself. He followed her with a difficult step, ironically caused by his earlier stroking; he was accustomed to it by then. He took her hand from behind when they were passing through a dark alley, making her scream slightly before his other hand covered her mouth. A passer-byer heard it and recognized his face from the profile paintings uptown.

He began undressing her from behind, feeling her smooth body and soft breasts. He turned her around and... her eyes... his eyes... the similarity was unignorable. He had done this for so long, he remembered that at first he didn't killed them -he wanted them to tell the tale- and this girl was right about the same age as he had begun... could it be? Could she be the fruit of his loins?
She, half-naked, did not scream as she understood what was going through his head. She touched his cheak, producing a calm in him never before felt. "She can't be... she's... too beautiful", his legs started to numb up, "I couldn't have created something this... angelic." His reputation as a demon, as a diabolical being, was beginning to shiver away from himself. The girl began to dress up, and he, without recognizing it, without believing it, stood there letting it happen.

"There he is", whispered one police officer to another. "Do we shoot? The girl's there, we could harm her." "Doesn't matter. The chief has given clearance to shoot to kill, no matter what." "Yes, sir... Ok... SHOOT!"

A hive of bullets began flying towards the couple. He grabbed her, and for the first time... for the last time he hugged her... protecting her.

Him... protecting... who was he becoming?

She embraced her father and cuddled in the rain of lead. He felt a joy that overcomed him more so than any of his killings... so more, that he began crying, completely forgetting the pain of the bee stings in his back.

The storm drained and both fell to the ground... she layed there with the dead stack of meat smelling of her and him, and she smiled... his father swan song was as beautiful as she was.

The divine jury had him in court for a millennium, not knowing what to do with him. He hadn't repented, he was a killer, he was evil... but you can't ignore that last act, that last do of his good will, if there was any. He couldn't speak for himself in the hearing, and if even he could, he wouldn't had done so... Finally, the judge came out: "We have here our statement: you shall go back, and show us what you have become. Another judgement will be given after your second return."

He found himself in a womb again, to begin living again. Comfortable, yes, but something was wrong... a voice came over him:

So glad to see you well, overcome them, completely silent now.
With heaven's help you've cast your demons out.
And not to pull your halo down around your neck and tug you off your cloud, but I'm more than just a little curious how you're plannin' to go about makin' your amends to the dead.

Recall the deeds as if they're all someone else's atrocious stories.
Now you stand reborn before us all.
So glad to see you well.

And not to pull your halo down around your neck and tug you to the ground, but I'm more than just a little curious how you're plannin' to go about makin' your amends to the dead.

He had acquired a millennium of thought... of remembering and feeling what he had done to others. No, the divine judgment was wrong, he needed to go down and bad.

He looked up and his umbilical chord invoked in him a weapon that he had used so much before...

With your halo slippin' down (I'm more than just a little curious how you're plannin' to go about makin' your amends)

He wrestled, tugged, and moved along in his water-filled hub for weeks to accommodate himself, as his hands weren't completely developed. Until one day, he produced for the last time his favorite knot... he slipped his head in and let the chord do his last will.

With eyes closed, he stopped breathing again, hanging from his life source and a smile in his face: he stripped his halo and faced his punishment...

Your halo's slippin' down to choke you now

Goodbye Girls

Oy with the poodles already!

If you didn't get that last line, don't read this post...

They're gone. I know it was coming, even part of me kind of felt that it was for the best, but here I am, feeling the numbness I usually feel when I just hear the news of somebody else's death. I know that it's childish to feel this way, even a little bit stupid, but I won't hear them talk again.

I guess that's the thing that I most enjoyed about them: their talks. I tend to be attracted to people I can talk to. It's a big plus if they're attractive, but that fades away... on the other hand, a good talk lasts forever... well, not forever apparently: they're gone.

I suspected it since a few months ago. They were not talking as much and as well as they used to. They were some days that they shined a little bit of hope on recovering, but they didn't. We all knew they wouldn't; in the back of our heads, we all knew this was it.

I don't think I can write as great words as others do to express the beauty and charm they impregnated on everybody, but you know I'll try anyway.

I remember her high school graduation, and the beautiful moment in which everybody was starting to cry, but didn't want to. That scene involved so many mixed up noble emotions, that I didn't know if to cry or laugh my heart out... so I did both. Ironically, this mixture was the one that led to very few people understanding them, and crying/laughing with them.

They talk too quickly, it's like a roller-coaster ride. They are doing one joke, and before I finish understanding it, and laughing about it, three other jokes like that have gone through.

Like if it were a bad thing...

It's too hard to get, I don't watch TV to think.

It hurts just typing it...

But that's the beauty of our girls: with their talks, they didn't just make you think, they made you curious. If you didn't get one cultural reference (or twenty, in my case), you'd look it up just to get the joke... a TV show made you look stuff up, when has that happenned in the last ten years? twenty years? I know that there have been lot of good-quality TV shows out there, and rare as they are, this is definitely one of them.

Despite its not-that-well-done swan song, even a close-to-mild hour like that is still far more entertaining, fullfilling, and satisfying to see than most programs out there. We've all missed Amy's writing, but you got to give it to Rosenthal (and from what I understand, in collaboration with Graham herself): the final scene was marvelously crafted to be very similar to the final scene of the very first episode, which turned out to be a very well-appreciated easter egg for us hardcore fans (or close to)... it made me blubber, I admit.

And so, with a little sober tear in my eye, and more sighs that I can handle, I say adios to my ultimate platonic love, Rory, and her wonderful mother, Lorelai... I hope they find happiness and warmth in the memories that, surely, more than some of us will keep alive...

Lorelai: So, apparently, I'm now the Reigning Lorelai.
Rory: Huh. I guess you are.
Lorelai: It's a lot of responsibility.
Rory: Well, sure.
Lorelai: I mean, it's mostly ceremonial stuff nowadays. Declaring knighthoods, opening supermarkets. But now and then, you get to banish someone or pose for a stamp.
Rory: Neat. And coins.
Lorelai: Yeah, and coins. You know, someday you'll be the Reigning Lorelai.
Rory: I don't like that idea!
Lorelai: Why not? You get a cape.
Rory: Because if I'm the Reigning Lorelai, then that means you'll be gone.
Lorelai: Gone? No, not me. I'll step down way before that. I'm not going to pull a Queen Elizabeth on you, make you wait around forever, force you to develop interests in polo and architecture.
Rory: I am scared of horses.
Lorelai: I know that.
Rory: So there's a cape, huh?

Virginia y Luis Antonio

Have fun! You'll die tomorrow, and then what? Only stress and worries in your life. Have fun!

My new motto. Thanks, mum.

I think the main thing that comes to my parents is the fact that, odds are, there's going to be a point in time that they are not going to be here...

I don't think I'll be able to live without my parents, and, being an only child, it's kind of expected. We are programmed to branch out from them at a certain age (that is different for everybody, by the way) and live out 'our own lifes'. But isn't it kind of ironic to do that? I mean, you're being pampered at a certain point, but then you begin struggling to get pampered by someone else, or by noone at all. I know it's childish of me implying that we should stick to being supported by our parents, but when aren't we? Unless you have like a really indifferent family that let you go through your life without noticeable support, you really don't stop relying on them for guidance and wisdom. And even then, the support may just be unnoticeable...

I find that my parents are like the Oracle's prophecies in The Matrix: they, by themselves, don't lead the way or tell you what to do, but are more of a guide or vehicle of where you need to go. Even if you hate them completely (which is kind of common apparently), maybe that animosity needs to be there for you to reach your ultimate goal here.

Which leads me to the fact that I wanted to get out of this post: their purpose for me will be reached regardless of they being alive or not; they'll be there, here, in my head always telling me "have you taken a shower?", "have you washed your teeth?", "how was your day?", and, more importantly "have fun!"

Have fun or you're grounded!

Ironic War Quote

I hate quotes... well, not the actual quotes (they are quite fun to use), but mostly the persons that used them as a way of argumenting a point. But, I found the following quote and I got to admit: the irony of it is unbeleivable. It's an excerpt from the Nuremberg Diary, written by Gustave Gilbert, during the trials of various important Nazi figures involved in the World War II and the Holocaust. The following is from an interview with Hermann Wilhelm Göring, a german general:

We got around to the subject of war again and I said that, contrary to his attitude, I did not think that the common people are very thankful for leaders who bring them war and destruction.

"Why, of course, the people don't want war," Goering shrugged. "Why would some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best that he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece. Naturally, the common people don't want war; neither in Russia nor in England nor in America, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship or a Parliament or a Communist dictatorship."

"There is one difference," I pointed out. "In a democracy the people have some say in the matter through their elected representatives, and in the United States only Congress can declare wars."

"Oh, that is all well and good, but, voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country."

It just gives you shivers down your spine, doesn't it?

Freedom

America is a continent (even I, who sucks at geography, know that), and 'United States' is a political concept, not a country's name (actually, the official name of Mexico is the United States of Mexico). Naming a country 'United States' is like naming a dog 'canine': cute, but ultimately illogical. So, yes, for me, that country has no name and shouldn't be called as such, period.

However, just this once, for the sake of honoring Doug Stanhope's beautiful argument, I'm going to let in this post the term 'America' refer to that country north of Mexico and south of Canada.
I've also edited it a little bit, for grammar mistakes (he's ad libbing at a certain point) and foul language: a lot of people, including my parents and supervisor, read this blog, so I got to keep it professional. Well, they actually don't, but just in case...

Enjoy!

America takes credit for giving you freedom that you already had in the first place. You're born free and America takes credit for it. That's like putting your own name tag on somebody else's present on a birthday party and calling it yours.

Think for a second: you're born absolutely free, except for laws of nature: you drink, you get drunk; you get old, you die; you sit on tack, you bleed from the ass. Those are the only laws that you're born with and any government just takes away from those freedoms. If you think that you're free, walk outside to your own car with your own beer in your hands and see how long you last. You're not free. You can't drive down the street without a seatbelt on, you better put on a helmet. This country tells you literally where and when you can cross the street. You got to keep your tray and your seat in the upright and locked position during take off. It's a hack premise and it's a fellony...

'We vote for that!'

We vote for that? No, we don't! When was the last time you saw a measure on a ballot that was this specific: "Do you vote yes on proposition 313: to keep pasties off titty dancers?" No, you vote for a guy who says "I'll lower taxes" and then goes and makes the pasties-off rule behind your back. You don't vote for anything that you care about; you're not free. You get a bounty hunter that can knock down your door without any regulation in this country, yet you need a degree to cut hair.

They say if you give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day, but if you teach a man to fish then... he has to get a fishing license, but he doesn't have any money so he has to get a job and get into the social security system and pay taxes, and now you audit the poor bastard because he's not really good at math, he just a wanted to eat a fish! But he can't, because he can't cook the fish because he needs a permit for an open flame, and the health department is asking him all sorts of questions about where is he going to dump the scales, and the bones, and the guts... and kids, guess what? If you get tired of it all at the end of the day, you're not even free to kill yourself in this country!

'America gave you the freedom to stand on that stage and say what you're saying right now.'

No, dimwit, a voice box gave me the freedom to stand on this stage to say what i'm saying! It comes with the product; they don't install that for you after you're born in this magical dirt.

You were born free, you were hacked out of it, and you're waving a flag celebrating it.

Beautiful, isn't it? I got to admit that there are certain topics in which I don't totally agree with Doug (more specifically, his thoughts on abortion), but everytime he's on stage he makes these senseless, gruesome, incredible, blown-out-of-proportion arguments that, first, I laugh incredibly hard at, and then make total sense to me. So, lo and behold: Doug Stanhope... People will leave. I go on stage, it's like I'm leading you into battle -- you're not all going to be here at the end.

Faint

I spent the night at ngo's last saturday, after a long day of paper-macheing (it's that the word?) and rehearsal. Good talk, good chat, good laughs... before we went to sleep (Carlos spent the night too) we also saw Sin City (ngo's fifth time this month). Basically nice good ol' fun.

I woke up to an eggs-n-spinach breakfast, which my tummy welcomed. I felt kind of drowsy, but not to an extent that I haven't felt before. We were supposed to leave to pick up some of my stuff from another friend's flat, so I went upstairs to take a leak. The bathroom smelled nice. While I was doing my business I felt that I wanted to cough, but I held it in because I didn't want to splatter. So I finished, I coughed a bit and then...

I was sitting down, chatting with Julia, telling her about the interesting peculiarities between american football and rugby. I just became a fan (of rugby, the sport, not of any team in particular) and was very interested to let everybdoy know about it. Some guys approached me and offered me to show her what I was talking about (so, apparently, we were in some part of the U.K.). I accepted and they beat the crap out of me, but all in good fun. In one of their tackles, I layed on the ground laughing at the fact that I sucked at the sport, but it felt good to do something like that for a change.

So there I was, on the ground, with a grin on my face. I think I landed on a rock or something because I felt this little pain on my neck. The floor was hard too; unusual for a lawn. It smelled nice too, not outdoorsy nice, but more like, I don't know, like a bathroom.

"Caleb, there's no toilet paper. I'll leave some out in the hallway."
"Ok, thanks!"

So there I was, on the bathroom floor, with my pants a little stained (not that much, I'd already finished). My head landed on a plastic bucket and my right shoulder, whilst I'm writing this, is still hurting. I stood up, looked myself in the mirror (to check if I were still me), zipped up, washed my hands, and wetted my face and hair. Went down and asked Carlos how long was I up there; apparently (which, now, I'm figuring is the word of the post) I was up there for around five minutes, meaning that I may have been 'out' for around ten or twenty seconds.

It's weird now, everything around me feels like a dream. Maybe because I'm expecting to wake up at any minute. Everything is 'apparent' now, not really there. It may be there, but I just may be asleep, so for now it's only apparently there. Philosophy scholars may argue that it actually may be a good thing: an objective point of view of the metaphysicality of things, to doubt the very existence of stuff around us, of even ourselves:

'I think, therefore I exist': crap on stick, your thoughts may not be yours, only an illusion of thoughts that apparently come from within you. Within you may lie another being that is thinking for you and feeding your so-called thoughts, you may only be the flesh-and-bone vehicle/representation of such thoughts, and you may only be here to act them out. Interestingly enough, if that representation would happen to come about, would you exist anyway? Yeah, you may only be the vehicle, but a vehicle needs to exist to act out stuff: even with being only a representation of something else, you still shoud exist, just in a crappier version of what you first thought (ironically).

But from what I've perceiving: it was just too god damn scary... I have something to tell the grandchildren, if they ever do exist.

Inertia

I'm an inertian being...

Whilst I'm working I won't eat, I won't sleep, and I'm pretty sure I won't breathe for extremely long periods of time, because I just can't stop.

When I'm not working, I can't get myself to get up, I may be thinking of doing the job, hell, maybe some ideas actually come up during my hiatus, but to actually getting them done is nearly impossible.

Inertia... sounds alien-like, doesn't it? I bet that a long time ago, some beings from outer space came down and looked at our civilization and how we were prospering. They calculated that in a relatively small amount of time we would get so advanced that we would become a considerable rival in obtaining resources from the galaxy/universe/space/whatchamacollit. So they zapped all of us with this ray gun that somehow slightly changed our nervous system making it slow down when shifting gears from rest to work and viceversa; this way, either we find it very difficult to start working, or, after we actually do stuff, find it hard to stop, resulting in us getting very tired, which itself provoques an even harder situation when we want to start working again. And, because you worked so much, this builds the illusion that you don't need to work that much the next time, but you should, because it's being a long time since you haven't worked, and you haven't done any work at all since then...

Logically, though, all of this should just then result in the extension of the time periods in which you're working or resting: more rest implies that you can withstand more time working, which would imply more rest, etc. And in the end, the active time put into work would come about the same, compared to the situation of a person working and resting in periods with constant lengths of time.
However, in my observations I suspect this is not the case, as only the rest time periods are the ones expanding and the work periods are actually shortening. Maybe the ray gun had another element: a logic reversal, let's say. The problem is that I haven't found an expansion/shortening ratio to the whole thing, so I can't verify this; maybe it isn't linear, damn aliens!

Whatever it is, though, it's the base of their intent, and the root of our demise... SAY NO TO INERTIA! I've fallen into it and can't get out, but you still have a chance. Tell your family, tell your friends, blog about it (copycat), tell the world! SAY NO TO INERTIA and let's kick those little green asses back to wherever they came from!

Birthday, like usual...

I've been garnering this post for a while, not written anywhere, just the idea on my head. To start a writing without really knowing what it is about, only feeling that you need to write something.

Today's my birthday, and at first I thought not to tell anyone: the fact that people will come up to me to congratulate me seems like it's forced upon them because society tells you that it's almost obligatory to say 'Happy Birthday!' to the person, if you don't do it, you're a dick. I didn't like this one bit: people were coming to me, congratulating basically because I'm alive, with their faces of 'oh jesus, I have to hug this freak'. So I thought 'save it, don't worry about it, I won't feel bad about you not congratulating, so don't'; I mean, I felt even worse when people HAD to congratulate me, I felt like a nuisance...

And it's weird though. Obviously I like getting congratulated by the people I love (my parents and friends of mine), but when it comes to a birthday, you are the center of attention, whether you want it or not, and I'm a control freak: I'm the center of attention when I want it to, and I'm very rebellistic too so if somebody puts me up on a little chair on a 'show and tell' kind of a thing, I just want to get down... it's going to be my chair, my 'show and tell', when I say so...

But nope, friends are friends, and really, a birthday party is more like a wedding: it's not really for the bride and groom, it's really for the family... so, yeah, a birthday party it's not really for the birthday boy, it's really for the birthday boy's friends. It's a good excuse, and us Mexicans (and the Indians too, apparently) for the most part don't need much of an excuse to throw a party, and a birthday is a BIG excuse.

I was going over my Astrological reading (ironically, a birthday present from some website); they're a good read once in a while, and sometimes, just sometimes, they do hit the nail on the head. Apparently I need to be more flexible about the stuff that happens around me and not be such a control freak... fine... I'll go with the flow, and it's not like I don't do that every birthday of mine, and usually I do have a good time.

...

I bought myself a Marshall Amp around two weeks ago. It's my first Marshall, and it sounds beautiful; goes very well with my Epiphone Special Model (the wine red model)... I know it's a bottom of the line guitar, but if you equalize it right at the amplifier end, it sounds amazing, even more so with a Marshall on the front.

There's an acoustic guitar that I borrow from a friend of mine when rehearsing for a folk music event coming up in june... it's also probably bottom of the line, but wow, it feels good, and sounds nice, and it's electroacoustic, which I'm looking for right now. I'll try and persuade him of giving it to me when he leaves England.

What does this have to do with my birthday? Well, first, the Marshall was a birthday present for myself, and second, I think it's a good analogy of my life up until now (I like analysing what I've done and what's going on with my life every birthday, good check). I remember one time that Julia (wow, that name's is getting easier to say every passing day) wrote to me something in that nature:

At first I owned a nylon-string acoustic guitar (Odualli), which represented my start and the fact that I played only for myself. Then she gave me a steel-string electroacoustic guitar (Hallue), which represented my aperture to the world and a transitional stage to live performance. Then I bought this guitar (Joravaillu), which represented my full-fledge emergence as a live performer.

Following that same pattern, I'll follow that by: because of all that stuff happenned between Julia and me, the baggage that it entitled, and, frankly, the fact that Hugo had better hands for it than I did, I gave Hallue up... representing an end, a beginning, an abandon of her and my past (my move to England), even more so considering that I left Odualli at home, which now is more of my dad's then mine, and that I only brought Joravaillu with me, which is part of my thesis right now... so yes, abandon of past and trying to build a future with what I have left.
Then I bought the Marshall amp (Trutweth, kind of an antique, irish, elvian name, in a way), which I think represents adoption of new ideas, considering that there aren't only guitars out there, and the fact that other things can fill my life as well as they do. But at the same time, there's a new electro-acoustic catching my eye... maybe I want to turn back, or just remember the good things of back then, reminisce... not sure what does it mean still, but looks intriguing (yeah, I'm a thing of pondering).

... thing of pondering, thing of mystery, quite an odd fixture am I to the house I bought ... why buy it? why acquire it? it feels strangely well, for one, and it thinks familiarly wrong, for ten (to whoever understands binary) ... weird, confusing, but senseful, unpredictably faithful, soberviously modest, poppy punk, beautiful fly, incongruently informed, flawedly virtued, with a haircut that just doesn't seem right and a look that mostly never sees wrong... me : good birthday present ...

"sperm came under her eye, as she cried the tears of pleasure of her loved one after caressing the sub-creature that had giving her so much happiness: the momentaneous one residing in her sigh, and the eternal one now sleeping in her womb. he carried both of them to the sky, pulling her thighs to his side and kissing the doorway to his bloodline, spreading his tongue on the side, ringing it's doorbell. she grabbed the ceiling as there was nothing else to hold on to, while she felt that so familiar blinding sensation, again, never the same... then, she let go, her right hand found his hair while her left found her left breast, groping both while she forgot the necessity of balance in such an intimate encounter with a small death. he rested her body in his left clavicula using it as a key to her door, moving his shoulder slowly; he laid his ear on her abdomen while she muffled a moan that harmonized with a mild cry from within... he let her down on the bed gently, laid down and whispered: 'she's waking up' while his fingers fondled the bed curtains of their unborn... she then used his neck as concealment of her pleasurable anguish. the more he explored, the faster he wrote, the tighter and more humid it all became... her hand found the sub-creature she had caressed before, and both found themselves moving in the now familiar rhythm that ends up in obscurity followed by clarity, in death followed by life... she finished tasting his blood from the tightness, and him with moist fingertips smelling of her, a scent that only he can draw in, as she is his, he is hers, and both of them are of little hers, waiting for that 18th fortnight to start finding whom she belongs to..."

Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children AMV

This is my first attempt at making an AMV, hope you like it.

This is evidence of how Nine Inch Nails is starting to sink in deeply in me: the song is "And All That Could Have Been" from the 'Still' part of the live album of the same name. It's interesting how this song appears to not be the center of attention of the album, not even a single; I'm guessing it is just one of those amazing B-sides that everybody loves, but the band doesn't want to make such a fuzz about... phenomenal song, nevertheless.

By the way, sorry for using YouTube for the stream, I know it can get very slow. Try to be patient =)

To an Atheist...

First off, let's separate God and religion. God is in what you trust in explaining the parts of the world around you that YOU can't explain; this may be whatever you want it to be. Religion is just a standardized way to worship, communicate, pray, etc. to what you believe in, and making it easier to understand to most people. Of course, because these religions are built by man, wrote by man, they are doomed to be flawed... so if you're bringing up logical arguments refuting the Bible, or the Coran, etc., good for you, you have beaten twenty something scribes that lived 2,000 years ago; however, that's not refuting the existence of God, just the interpretation of what is God made up by a handful of persons.

This is my interpretation: God is all-powerfull and built the essence around you... no, not the houses and cars, those were built by man, but they used materials made by God, which can be reduced to arranged subatomic particles, energy (heat, light, etc.), and logic itself. And, because he is all-powerfull, he can, for example, sin if he wants to but in such a way that he's is not sinning or be all-loving without appearing to be: imposible? Yes, of course, he's God, he can do whatever he wants. He build you, he build logic, he's beyond you, he's beyond logic. He acts in a way that seems illogical with which you can try to prove his inexistence, but that's like a parent giving a baby a toy gun and the baby thinking that he can kill his parent with it.

Now, why do I think such a God exists? How can you be certain that he's there if the only tool you have to prove it is not sufficient enough to begin with? Well, for one, because I'm here, and you're here... and the odds of us two being right here, at the same time considering how many millions of years have passed through this universe, the repeated and continued one-in-a-billion happennings that had to occur for that to happen is completely, utterly, unbeleivably impossible, yet here we are. But this reason is flawed because, firstly, the possibility is still there and a long time did pass, so the impossible may have happenned just by chance, and secondly, it is still using logic...
So, two, I'm believe he's there because I feel it (another thing that he built: emotions) and it feels right, something in my gut assures me that he is there, maybe it's a psychological thing, but you can't deny that if we were built by chance we wouldn't have the necessity of believing in something to feel better, we would all be, well, non-believers (an atheist may beleive in something), hell, even science could be considered as a type of religion... but, why do we create religions? why is there a need to connect to something bigger than us? I don't know, maybe there's something inside us that is trying to maintain contact with it's creator...

Well isn't that just convenient for you. You fiat God into existence because, "it feels right in your gut" (Iraq 'felt' right in Bush's gut too).

Then to counter all logical argument, and all questions like how did he come into existence, or how he is a logical contradiction, you declare him above logic, and mere mortal question. (funny, the same was said of Zeus and Ra)

Science has already found out how the earth and the materials on it could have come into existence. There is simply no need for a 'God' anymore.

The only purpose God serves now is to inflame passions of people against each other, and give morally wrong issues like banning abortion, rejecting stem-cell research, denying condom use in Africa, a chance to be morally right because 'that is God's will'.

"Religion is regarded by the common people as true, by the wise as false, and by the rulers as useful." - Seneca the Younger

Religions change, but the countless number of men who are ready to die for them never has.

And there you go again with putting religion and God together: God did not "inflame passions of people against each other" or "give morally wrong issues like abortion...", man did that all by himself. God does not change, man does, and so does man's interpretation of him; the way that small differences in these interpretations can strike us as being personal is just a waste of energy...

I admit that it can be strange and disarming the fact of putting God over logic like that, which basically kills every type of contradiction. But, in a way, it kills every type of argument for it as well...

"It's a good thing you ask these types of questions, it means that he's working."

I'll try and explain my interpretation the best that I can: I'm basing my believes in both an intellectual and emotional sense, and, yes, this explanation, for me, is logical and feels right at the same time (that's why I accepted it). You are not just the part of your brain that thinks, you have a feeling part as well. If every decision out there were to be done by just rationale, one could conclude that, because of all the damage that man has done to the environment and each other, all of mankind should be exterminated for the good of Earth's and, potentially, the Universe's future. This makes sense: it would give the Earth time to heal and turn back to when before man appeared and everything was balanced... does this feel right to you? There are many other types of examples like this in which a logical solution can be reached that would certainly solve the problem, but at a sentimental price that cannot be undertaken. There needs to be a balance between both...

You called my way of seeing things 'convenient' and, at the same time, the only thing YOU think about when people believe in God is how bad it has turned out for them: well, isn't that 'convenient' as well? What about when it has turned fine? When they felt right? The same way that Gandhi felt it was right to free South-Africa and India (by way of peaceful disobedience), the same way that Marthin Luther King Jr. felt it was right to fight for race equality (not just for african-americans), and other millions of men and women out there who by feeling what's right and following what they beleive God's wants them to do has actually being good for society. You do pay your meal when you eat, don't you? If you care for someone, you help them in their times of need, right? Why? You could say that's your own decision, and you alone decided to do whatever you decided to do ('God' did not take a part on any of it), and I agree, because that's your belief, and that's your 'God': you... yep, you are God... to you, you are... just like everyone else has their own interpretation of God, even if they don't call it 'God'. Some call it Zeus, others Allah, Jehova, You, etc., they still follow a belief of what is good and what is bad. That may have been instructed by their parents, and their parents' parents, etc. Did the monkeys teached us that? Who knows? Maybe they did. Maybe the animal that came before teached the monkeys, and so on... but, where did that moral structure come from? I certainly don't know, and it's probably irrelevant... what I do know is that it is what connects us all to each other today, what makes us a society, and the fact that the majority of us feel very strongly about whoever doesn't follow that moral structure is evidence of it. There are some universal rules that we don't know where they came from. I'm not talking about stuff like "homosexuality" and "abortion", those are just what SOME follow and call it 'religion'. I'm talking about the universal ones (care for one another, don't do unto others what you don't want done onto you, viceversa, etc.), the ones that are so natural in our beings that we don't even know we are following them, the ones we feel are the right thing to do... that is God, and there's still obvioulsy a need for him.

We can't explain where they came from, and they're beyond logic: have you ever known of someone that loves someone that won't love them back? Have we ever figure out how do we come up with an idea? And why in the world does it feel so good to hug someone? It makes no sense!... but it's there, ever-present, all-knowing, none-changing 'God'; the reference point to our emotional side, if you will. The rest, is just man's doing.

This is why I keep saying: God is not the same thing as religion...

By the way, science hasn't found out how many materials came into existence. There are plenty of things out there that right now cannot be explained: like how does a thought exist physically? How do we store so much information in such a small space? WHERE DID THE ATOM COME FROM?

I'm not saying that God is the explanation to these questions. What I'm saying is that we, as men, with science as a vehicle, are far from over, and I believe that God is the one pointing us in the right direction.

Also, I don't recommend that you argument using quotes from other people, specially from someone with such a 'colorful' reputation:

"Medieval writers and works [...] believed that Seneca had been converted to the Christian faith by Saint Paul, and early humanists regarded his fatal [suicidal] bath as a kind of disguised baptism."
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seneca_the_Younger#Seneca_as_a_humanist_saint

Oh and the war in Iraq didn't 'feel' right in anyone's gut, it was just plain stupid. ;)

The basis for altruism is evoultion. I'll find the study in a bit, but the basics is that the humans and chimpanizes that hunted together survived, while the loners and "murders" were not successful in reproducing. This is why it feels good to hug someone and be nice to someone... Evolution has trained us with the basic moral teaching, and through rational thought we get the rest.

Nonetheless, I think we may be aguring the same thing. Correct me if I'm wrong but while I leave the unknown as the unknown, you just call it God. You don't seem to think of him as a super powerful being who directly interfearse with human life and promises him an afterlife, it's more like the unexplained.

Mmm... I haven't thought of that: evolution as the source of society/altruism. It makes some sense, although I'm not completely convinced that the "murderers" were not successful in continuing their gene pool: like lions killing other lions' cubs, or the strongest beating the hell out of others is the one that gets to reproduce. However, it could be that us, humans (as well as the evolutionary branch that we come from), when looking for a mate check how 'good' he or she is, instead how well he or she fights or kills something else, leaving the 'good' ones alive.

You think right: we are arguing something very similar. Thinkin of him "as a super powerful being who directly interfearse with human life and promises him an afterlife" is a religiuos thing, and it sounds nice on paper, and a good story to tell the kids, but doesn't feel right to me (see, there's that gut again). Although, there are some 'unknown' stuff that I wouldn't call 'God', so it's not like 'if you don't know what that is, it's probably God" (another religious thing). We will found out if there's life on other planets, we are getting more knowledge from the genome project, those were unknown back in the day, and some of that stuff was considered God at some point, which completely sucked.

It's kind of difficult to explain what I think God really is, because I do believe it is SOMETHING, like some kind of energy, and I do belief it can interact with the world/universe, just not that 'immediate'. I believe that there's a plan, that started a long time ago. Man is just part of that plan, and there's a purpose for man, the thing is that I/we don't know what that plan is or where is leading us (that's the 'unkown' I'm talking about). We we're built like we are for something, and actually, now that I think of it, the evolution thing fits in this: every other species out there uses some kind of ability for mate choosing (strength, how good a nester he is, looks, etc.), that we know of. Man is an apparent exception in this rule: we ALSO judge how 'good' the mate is... actually, man is already an exception in so many other ways: rationale, complex tool building, curiosity for the unknown. Doesn't it feel like all of this is going somewhere?

And about the interference, I believe there is some type of interaction, although it's not going to be as if prayer will change anything: the plan is made, and there's nothing that's going to change that. The interactions that I'm talking about are more in the sense of those one-to-a-billion-odds thing that happenned that are the reason we're here: the exact amount of material in the life soup millions of years ago at exactly the right time, the fact that some primates lasted so long to develop certain skills, but man obtained rationale (something that I believe is much more complex than knowing how to stick a branch inside a hole and then licking it) in such a relative small amount of time. It appears as if something accelerated the process for us, maybe it was a random thing, which is true, but in this sense, that's what I would call "God's doing"...

Yeah, I think that is what best explains what I think God is: blessed randomness; those little quirky things that we are beyond our control, but somehow are interconnected to a simple coin toss.

I guess I've always been content leaving coincidence as chance rather then directed purpose. In the absent of evidence establishing purpose, I opt for chance because it is the simpler option (occam’s razor).

I've also felt that there is little reason to give humanity a purpose. If we don't know what our purpose is, then in effect it means that we will not be able to work towards it any more effectively then if we felt we had no purpose. Furthermore, why state that there is a purpose controlled by an outside God if there is no real evidence to prove it and it would be simpler for a people to not have a purpose (once again occam’s razor)

I felt compelled not to answer back, because he basically shot himself in the foot (maybe unknowingly) and I didn't want to rub my nose in it, but I guess people who read it will get it: basically ended up saying that "I don't believe in God because it's simpler this way." Wow, what an anticlimactic end to such an interesting debate.

NIN, Me and You

Ok, now that I've gotten hold of myself (mostly), maybe I'll write about it a little bit.

First off, I have to admit that I wasn't such a devoted NIN fan. I knew about them, mostly because of Elsa, a friend of mine, and her boyfriend, who spoke highly of them (and still do). I had heard some of their songs and most of them blew me away: I considered them an spectacular band who did impressive and unusual songs, but at the same time they were a band whom I would never acquaint myself with because they seemed so foreign to me. This was about a year and a half ago...

A little before I moved to Manchester, Elsa recommended some of their songs for me to hear in my affairs. She and I believe that music can heal, and I think that that was her motive (I was going through a weird thing emotionally back then, still am I guess). Anyway, so I downloaded some of those songs from the iTunes Store, which lead to me listening to them sporadically with the wonderful and all-knowing random playback in iTunes. Then I began noticing the inspiring harmonies and the way that Trent manages noise in his songs, so I continued to listen to them but now more and more often; the songs, the lyrics, everything began sticking to me. "Right where it belongs" became one of my favourite songs of all time, with "And all that could have been" coming close to being in that list as well. And if you consider that my beloved Metallica and A Perfect Circle, whom I am a huge fan of, have been in this list since I've considered myself a musician, this addition is saying a lot for me and for them.

Then, the knowledge that this concert was going to come about reached me. During this time, I met Carlos Garcia, whom with I now form a predecessor of what could be considered as a band. He tooted about going, and got me interested: 'Fine. I'll give them a shot live.'

I couldn't get a ticket to the first show, so I got one for the second. It actually worked out, because, first of all, I have a video conference with my mum every sunday. And second of all, I think I would've felt less intimate with Trent if someone I knew, but didn't know that well, would've been there at my side.

I enjoyed myself more than I have ever in a concert. In all fairness, I haven't been to a lot of concerts, mostly because either the tickets are too expensive, the concert is too far away, or I know the band is going to suck live. There are a lot of bands out there that are like that: good stuff on studio, but can't quite get it when it comes to porting that stuff onto a stage. Frankly, I thought NIN was going to be like that... oh my God, was I wrong!

I think that if you would've video-recorded me throughout the show, you would've seen my transformation from a passer-byer to a complete convert. First I was seating, and I planned to stay seated. The seats were kind of crappy, which, I thought, work out so I could better appreciate the music without the screaming horde blowing my tympanums out. Then some people started to stand which started a chain reaction that led me to stand (one person in the front forces the one in the back to stand, and so on), but at that moment I was already getting into the mood a little bit so I didn't mind.
Then they played Closer, a familiar song for me. It blew my mind how right on was Trent on his singing, and how well the electronic parts of the songs were fitting into the whole of the song: not invasive, but essential. The sound was engineered beautifully, and the intent of the song was coming in through without space for misunderstanding. During the next songs, I realized that Josh Freese was on drums; I didn't know my beloved drummer from APC (regarded as the "busiest drummer in the business" by Billy Howerdel) was in there, pulling out his elbows to the air before hitting his snare drum like he always does. And then I looked to my left and there is Jeordie White, the base player of, again, APC. Then, I remembered that Trent was a kind of external entity from APC as well, with The Tapeworm Project and all. There they were: Jeordie, Josh, Trent... the musicians that, in a way, I listened while growing musically were right there.

Throughout their next songs I realized that they fit... of course they fit, and I fit as well. A decision was upon me: is this my music? I looked around: I needed the guitar, if I fit there needs to be a guitar that fits too, and Aaron was on my right blowing the crap out of the poor guitar's neck. It made me wonder: I was hearing it fit, so was he fitting? It wasn't coming in clearly. Then I realized that the guitar I was looking for is not him, is Trent. Then it hits me: NIN is not this band, it's Trent. Whatever the other guys are doing, Trent was the one that envisioned it; of course, they're amazing in their own right and put their beautiful style into it, but the basis of all of what I'm hearing is Trent...

I'm hearing Trent, and it fits.

And like if I'd given him a cue, he began to play "Hurt". The stuff that I have been struggling with came to me in a wave, and I found myself crying. At that moment, I wasn't looking at him, I was looking at the ceiling, at my cell phone texting myself of that moment, at myself. I was hearing myself talk to myself and to her and to him through Trent's lyrics.

I was hearing myself speaking Trent's words, and everything, just for that moment, fitted... In that moment, I fell in love with 'Trent', that entity that wrote those words, and gave them to me to speak what I needed to say:

Thus, I'm in love with myself, further confirming the presence of my narcissistic side that has proven lethal to me and my endeavors, but for once I find a way to not only acknowledge it as I haven't done in such a long time, but to also love it, to accept it.

"I am who I am. I, you and everybody else has to deal with it by either confronting me about it, ignoring it, or grow to love it."

Ancient words of a young, naive soul. Old words can also be empty and this is pretty much the case... Loving oneself doesn't stop on declaring it, but on admitting to it and doing something about it, which in itself involves a change in the self that one loves... it's completely contradictory! A change like that takes time, and by the time you're done (which I doubt you will), you're dead. You might as well give your sand castle away to the ones you love, to the ones you haven't tried to change, and let them see whatever they want to see in it:

"If you truly love something, let it go. If it comes back, it'll be yours forever. If it doesn't, it wasn't meant to be."

Fine. Let's do that. I'll let myself free and see if I come back to me. I'll be me, with my fear of rejection, with my doubt of being me, with my completely incongruent narcissistic side, being the depressing one, the hungry-for-attention one, the one who writes a blog to act out on his literary side to impress someone, anyone, ... y'know, the real me.

This is me. With all my stupidities and illogicalities (like that one), this is me.
I'm giving myself to you, whoever you are reading this, because I love you, because you are me. And I can't love me so I'm giving myself to you to become you, and, because I love you, I'll love myself then.

...and Trent's words were the vehicle of this realization.

Then they went to "The Hand that Feeds" waking me from my awareness, and I continued to thoroughly enjoy myself for the rest of the show.

I am now a NIN fan and, although you may not know it yet, you're going to be one as well.