I intend to make a habit. A numerical trivia. I talked with adan about the monkeysphere. That made me realize, Can I name 150 persons who I care about? No I can't. I got 19. Reader, if I may say, try it at home. How did I defined "person I care about"? Someone who I would love to talk with in 10 years if by some reason I had a comma. I listed them in alphabetical order but it was a real experience to name them. To be honest, I got 5 with no effort, next 10 I had some difficulty and last 3 I almost missed them. I would have regretted if I had not included them. 42.1% are women. If my A/B testing is right... that's conclusive evidence that I have stronger relationships with men. Maybe not surprising to you, but I wasn't so sure. Years ago, I would have selected more women.

Anyway I will do this every year, to track how this works with me. (If I had had 3 male friends less statistically speaking my data would be useless in the gender enigma.)

On another topic, I was talking with daniel about important people when the question was raised... How many men have you met that have deeply provoked a breakthrough in your development? 2. And women? Again, 2.

Should I get a more active role in looking for people like these 4 friends? Or am I set to be Memo so that phase is over? Dunno. I know that my 19-names list just includes one of them. And she's fading out. (And pollo is dead.)

Why do I care about these numbers? To keep me true. I love my work, but I have from time to time remember that people matter and that I should spend more meaningful time with them. Life is good, as it happens, I got 2 weeks off to do just that :D

1. adan
2. ale
3. ana
4. bety
5. ceci
6. daniel
7. daniel r.
8. david
9. hagen
10. ivonne
11. jaime
12. jorge h.
13. julio
14. karina
15. madre
16. mauricio
17. monge
18. padilla
19. yéssica

If you don't see yourself there, there's a chance I'm forgetting you, sorry if that's the case. On the other hand, maybe you aren't that active in my life anymore. I had other names, other years. If it really bothers you, let's talk, this post is about doing that after all! Have meaningful interactions.

Six days before my birthday and I come here to update my last will. Sure I do have one thing much more interesting to say, but I won't. Not yet, and not in english. So obviously I won't leave Pollo my sandman, and Allan is probably out of the game also (for better reasons).

David: pois, guitar, rubik, papercraft.
Julio: computer-related books, heroscape.
Yorch: scifi books
Julian: language-related books
Jaime: rpg books, munchkin
Padilla: graphic novels (excluding Sandman)
Allan: philosophy books, go books...

Damn, almost all my gifts are books, that tell us something. I wish I had something for ale, monge, diana and so on. I know my friendship with them is much more than mere objects. On the other hand, I hardly ever see yorch, but he is the person who should have my scifi. I guess I could give monge my "Dangerous Ideas", but it feels like cheating. Yes, Karina would receive almost everything else, at this point. (Please don't kill me!) However I don't think my Jared Diamond or Piaget books would be rightly served if Karina has them. Who would play my Fluxx? Well, some other day I will figure this out, for now, it is enough. Life's good.

How was 2008? I'm not fond of idealizing the 12-month cycle, but hey I do respect cycles. We, humans, are addicted to them. I think it is a bug in our firmware, but hey it is fun. My year was great, thanks for asking. It had a blue note but that's life.
What did I learn last year? Let me see... at the professional level, I got much more "do what your passion tells you to do". I had plenty of terrific experiences, working in my first MapReduce/Erlang project, meeting great guys at RubyFringe and working with RmbrMe. I finally created a FB profile :S I actually finished the python tutorial. I have yet to find it a purpose (having Ruby...). My love life is another story. It was much more linear. I love her and '08 was a catharsis-thingy year. She went away and that gave me time to think without my heart pounding over like a teenager. People tell me how cold I am, they have no idea. After all, it was a good break. My mind and brain were fighting too much and distance made many things much simpler, hence easier to discuss with myself. I can confidently say I love her the healthy way. I am not a knight rescuing a damsel in distress. I love her for the right reasons, and the right emotions. I'm fully in-line in that scope. (That's a bummer for the sitcom, but hey writers will find something else.) My social life went narrower. I intended 2008 to be a primordial year, and that's what happened. I see less people and that's a tad sad. However, I know it is for the better. Quality over quantity. I will reclaim some friendships but I had to simplify my kernel. In a couple of years I will surely explode again, but for now, all is good. I won't talk about my family. For my inner Memo it was a hard year. I didn't really attempt new things and he loves to be utterly lost.
In brief, Did I regain some patience? Yes, a fraction. Am I more happy? Yes, a lot. 2008 was a success.

So what will you do next year? Mmm, let me think. I want to say it is time to reap it. But no, life isn't ready. I want to create my house, but I like having themes. Perhaps Creation, once more. Three years ago I choose it. Then Conservation. And last year was Cancellation. Allan and juanjo have this theme about growing out. This rite of passage. I'm not convinced but people is starting to expect that from me. Maybe I should support a meta-creation. I have a long history of thinking about thinking. Or about living by being worth of living. Or of dreaming about being epic. Maybe this year I should concentrate in building a strong common life life. I mean, it is fun to be worried about the Omega number while others are worried about the economic crisis; Yet, I should be more mundane. Like not forgetting to pay the bills. Or making time in my schedule for a medical check. I'm all so good to jump to the no-meat wagon but I haven't ever considered the biological impact. It was just the right thing to do. I am neglecting my daily life. The boring bits are dull, but hey I wouldn't exist without it and maybe once there I will see some obvious fixes that will make my life ten times better. So my purpose for this year is being Conscious of the now. Hope you enjoyed the ride.

Pollo nació el 6 de Agosto de 1981 y le costó a su madre un huevo tenerlo. Lo conocí a la tierna edad de 15 años en primero de prepa, que de tierno no tenía nada ese año. La verdad es que no me cayó en gracia desde el principio. La personalidad de pollo siempre ha sido un gusto adquirido. Ya entonces era sarcástico y de humor negro, supongo siempre tuvimos eso en común. El primer recuerdo que tengo de él fue una vez que en bugambilias él traía una camioneta de su padre para pasearnos. Eramos varios y a mi me dejó la cajuela. ¿Por qué yo tenía que ser el único incómodo? Más tarde él me diría que me eligió a mi, porque yo era el que de sus amigos del tec era el menos fijado, el más como él. A ambos nos gustaba la misma niña, bueno, de hecho eramos un buen grupo pero en aquellos tiempos inocentes, todos saber no implicaba nada. Recuerdo una vez que celoso le comentó a la niña que por qué a mi sí me dejaba tocarle la pierna, lo cuál resultó en su primera cachetada. En otra ocasión fastidió tanto a nura que hizo que esta explotara y maldiciera a toda la escuela, algo que por siempre pollo le recordaría. El pollo tenía una excelente memoria. Para el '98 teníamos que elegir a dónde ir de universidad y pollo y david quisieron seguir a juanjo en una nueva carrera. Pollo jamás aceptaría dejarse influenciar por los demás. Le puedes preguntar a luis o angie o a david y 100% de la gente de mi estudio cuidadosamente seleccionado te dirá que pollosatánico era un chico soberbio y modesto. :) Sólo pollo jamás sabrá lo que hubo entre angie y yo.
Pero fue en la carrera cuando en realidad formamos lo que sería nuestra relación. Pollo había tenido que dejar de estudiar (y lo haría por un año). Fue ahí cuando decidí invitarlo a que me acompañara con allan a su casa de horno de microondas con radio integrado. Ahí aprendimos magic y ahí todos conocimos a los Ociosos. Fue ahí cuando pollo roji-blanco provocó que julio se comprará dos cajas de magic. Lo cuál a ambos nos pareció excesivos, en aquellos tiempos de estudihambre. Las tardes mágicas fueron épicas y lo llegué a conocer muy bien mientras andabamos explorando las lejanas tierras de tabachines o escalando los cubos. Mil veces después de ir con david caminabamos hacia el 632. Nuestras rutas eran distintas y ya desde entonces no ibamos para el mismo lado pero yo disfrutaba su compañía y como me retaba. Fue en esos tiempos cuando juntos descubrimos Sandman y montón de cosas. Gracias a pollo soy un día más joven, porque nunca sucedió. Gracias a pollo nunca olvidaré las copas de nada que nunca probé. Ni el tiempo real. Ni el truco de las tres manos. Manzanillo y Vallarta por siempre me recordarán a él.
La verdad es que tengo tantos recuerdos de él, pero él también los tenía de mi. Él me vió cambiar y no me comprendió. En la vida siempre se necesita un amigo que no acepté tu bullshit y él siempre lo fue. A veces con saña, pero siempre recordándome lo que se espera de mi. Tuvimos en un punto un diferencia y pollo ya era todo un IEC. Pero si de algo puedo estar orgulloso es que nunca nos perdimos. Pollo era grande y fuerte y odiaba las injusticias. Me encantaba platicar con él, porque con él podía hablar a mi forma, de tres temas a la vez con referencias obscuras. Creo que sí lo impacté para bien y no tienen idea lo mucho que me importaba cada vez que me decía que estaba orgulloso de mi. Con pollo fui el mejor memo que puedo ser y tmb con él cometí los peores errores que le he hecho a un amigo. Pollo me conoció bien quisiera decir que yo era el que mejor lo conocía, pero yo a él sólo la piel debajo de la armadura. Pollo estuvo ahí la primera vez que invité a salir a karina. No sé cómo le hizo pero pollo estuvo ahí cada capítulo de mi vida. Desde el día de mexworks, hasta el día en que conocimos al antichabelo. Pollo se había hecho la misión de ser mi cronista y le gustaba contarle a la gente que me presentaba alguna anécdota de mi (algunas de las cuales prefería que no las contara) o debatir mi comportamiento con ellos. Pollo siempre estuvo preocupada de ser el más mencionado de mi blog, he was high maintainance that way.
Pollo con su enfermedad no cambió tanto, como yo pienso que lo haría de haber estado en su situación. Ciertamente sí se volvió más cerrado, pero más por motivos de salud que de intención creo yo. Acostumbraba cada cierto tiempo irlo a visitar a su casa, pero aun así a veces llegamos a ir al red pub. Pollo no quería que la gente supiera de su enfermedad y eso me lleva a creer que no querría que describiera mucho esa parte de su vida. Pero pollo al igual que yo, somos contreras y fanáticos de la memoria. Una de las cosas que siempre admiré de él fue su capacidad de ser amigo, de ser un gran amigo. Pollo movió masas con su dolor. La iglesia de bugambilias, el san javier o la terraza de su cuñado pueden certificar que cuando pollo se movía, ahí estabamos todos. Me duele mucho su muerte y quiero pensar, corrijo sé que el supo lo mucho que lo amaba. La vida quiso que no me despidiera de él en su cuarto la última vez pero por fortuna cada vez que lo vi intenté demostrarle lo importante que es para mi. Hoy pollo pasa a formar parte de mi.
Pollo murió el 16 de Diciembre de 2008. Y siempre lo recordaré por la frase que más le gustaba que yo hubiera escrito, "Quiera sea la vida una y buena".

I should contrast NJ/NY with Toronto, but am I not Memo?? Yes, I am. Therefore, I will talk about Sandman. About Absolute Sandman. Recently Matt, the RG client, gave it to me as a gift. I think I will start a new tradition here. You may not know it, but I love Sandman dearly. Who am I kidding? Anyone who actually knows me, knows that. It is my favorite book. Both because of its content, and because of the story behind me getting it.
I'm almost sure I most have told this story before, but don't stop me. As time goes a person changes so this might not be the same version. This is the story I told myself nowadays. ...Once upon a time, there was this boy studying his career. He loved math, philosophy and computers. Even though he was smart as no one, at least that's how he felt, he wasn't thinking anything exciting. What a waste of dreams and intelligence. He cared to be better in each conceivable way, but he thought that math was the ultimate way to sharp his mind. The truth is he felt lonely in that pseudo-intelligent sphere.
One afternoon while browsing the almost new world wide web, he read a story. A sand tale. It was beautiful. It felt good. It felt old, and tribal. All the right things were there. That was my first reaction. The second was kind of personal. Years ago I wrote a little story poem and it was very similar. Though mine wasn't as good, it was more sad. That's when I investigated all about Sandman. I could have easily download one or two pages. But no, something inside me dissuaded me. I had only read a transcript, so I hadn't actually met the book.
At the time I wasn't economically solvent so I had to save my pennies. I made myself a quest, to buy the first issue and see what it was. My life slowly changed. I was becoming less math oriented, more story oriented. You could say that's when I started dreaming about having a good story to tell to my grandsons. The first issue was good, but not life shacking. It didn't include this tale I found, so I continued. Slowly at first, but eventually it grew to be a rich philosophical garden. What are the endless? Why is Delight gone? Are really Despair and Desire irrevocably twins? I wasn't new to philosophy but Sandman provided me a common language to dream and talk with friends. In time this friends would become my dearest friends. And I personally believe without Sandman they wouldn't be so near, so dear. Sandman became our High Language, especially with pollo.
Trade Ppaper Book after TPB, I bought them all. It took me all my college years to have enough money to buy them all. Now this sounds laughable, but every one of these issues cost me, and I was happy for the bargain. I bought the tenth issue with the money I got from my official first paycheck. And a circle was closed.
Back to present times. Now RG is the place where I am going and I am. So... what if I go for a new quest, acquiring these absolute volumes from RG's success? Life is a funny little story, isn't?

Four things to do when you don't have an internet connection:
-Keep up with your novella!
-Learn your Teach12 courses
-Grow your German via Rosetta
-Write one more page for Inane

Four things you should do:
-Your portfolio (eipipuz.com)
-kaRma
-Arming
-MonkeyJump

Four things you actually do when it happens:
-Listen to Teach12 courses
-Blog entries

These are notes to myself. I remember when there was no internet. Before Reddit, Gmail, MSN, Blogs, Webcomics... It is a rainy day all over again.

---

Eight random thoughts that I may have written elsewhere.

1. People say 21 is when males' sexual desires are at their maximum; They are wrong.
2. People say I'm arrogant. I am, and it is a strength.
3. There are four kinds of multiverses and it is math all the way down. That's what I have come to believe.
4. There's a moment in everybody's adult life, the bacon point. It is when you realize you can eat all the bacon you want, when you want. I think most of my friends haven't fully grasped this, which is a shame.
5. Now it is official, most women of my age would classify as MILFs. That makes me more pervert or less?
6. I'm working with right-wing organizations. Helping them. I wonder, am I making the world any favor?
7. Allan thinks a person shouldn't be insulted by things that only insult a few. That's like arguing jokes are bad if only a few get them. And bad jokes are the only worthy jokes.
8. Truthfully I'm a little worried about Allan. He seems dim. Less an Allan, more a gray. His quest for pragmatism is turning him into a boring guy. Or more specifically, a risk adverse guy. If he thinks he isn't strong enough in X area, he will avoid it. Unfortunately he has good enough sense to know he isn't particularly strong in any area. Just like you, or almost any human being! He would claim X isn't his style... He's scare of his 30s. I'm not yoda this point, though.
9. Kamilo is pinoccio! Damn it, I should have seen this comming from afar.
10. I am no longer worried about Jaime. Thanks to Polo Polo.
11. I am doing something right, I keep finding I have great friends.

I'm adjusting to this new life. It's funny how a person can really reach your core in a year and so. Last days I was deep blue, but I'm coming out of the cave. So what's my surprise when I find the world changed for my friends just as much as for me. I think all this could be traced to a trip I didn't went. As usual, if you inquire they say it was a vanilla trip. However, being the outsider I can feel that something went different.
They went to existencial lake and no one thought it was worth mentioning. I can see why allan went there. Even pollo. However, what could trigger padilla's journey? Maybe peer pressure, who knows.
I'm reluctant to go there. Why? Because I know it fully well. It's like disneyland. It's great to be there, once in your life; but camping there, I'm not fan of it. The night life sucks. There's not much to do, except rest and relax. It's a fantastic place to meet yourself, but once you do it, go home. There's a good reason why it is a virgin place. It's beautiful, but there are better things to do, elsewhere. Beware of the high tides.
Anyway, sorry for that alegoria, I got carried away. My honest simple answer to "what's the point of existence?" is this. "None whatsoever. There won't be a moment when all makes sense. That's a Platonist point of view that doesn't help you in any way. " However, that doesn't seems to make the trick. They seem to take it literally the "have a dream?" Or imply that you need to focus in one, the best. As if you wasted time following another dream. Or maybe worse. Maybe they can't see anything worthy. That, I don't have a general answer for that argument. I can only tell what works for me. Yes, that sounds as if I have my life set. It isn't. However I know a few tricks. I know, more important I live by the precept, that worthy is whatever you believe it to be. That "transcendental" is an apt illusion we cast for fear in our mortality. That all this questions, they aren't really important. You are getting it wrong. Answering them doesn't make you a better person, nor looking for those answers. You can get the answers, but you won't come out any less existencial. It's ironic. These questions can be thought as the answer of life. This quest is really an excuse to keep you busy. Maybe that's your drift. I prefer enjoying life. Am I a hedonist? No. I'm just saying, do with this life whatever your imagination propels you to do. If your imagination is a bit dry, maybe it is because you are taking your dreams too seriously. Maybe dreams are meant to be fuzzy.

I don't know why. I'm really amused by these dreams. Yes, I know "another one of yours". That would be a perfectly good response. So I apologize for being so repetitive. Anywho, I'm gonna write about it anyway, because I don't know the why of it. I'm usually able to sense where did inspiration came, or why would I dream about X thing. Not this time.
Again, I should recall a certain feature of my dreams. Almost every night for the last, maybe 24 years, maybe more, I have had a "soap opera" in my head. I mean, I have crazy or vanilla dreams as anyone. Then 15 minutes of my prime show. Continuations of previous nights, as a series. So for example I could dream about a casual chat with friends at work. That would take almost all night. I almost always remember my dreams, btw. I would watch even the normal repetitions. You know, scenes repeat a couple of times with little changes each time. I think that's the normal way for everyone to dream. However I have an extra, a little bubble of a continuing dream. Short, Succint and Familiar, it is. I have come to expect it at the end of my dreams. That's how I know its time to wake up or that I haven't sleep enough.
In these dreams, I'm a demon hunter. Some friends say I have read too much RPG. I have had this dream longer than the time I have had these friends, so maybe I don't. Over the years my dreams have got elegance. When I was a child I dreamed about learning about my abilities. As an adolescent I was a fighter. One could think these dreams where just a way for me to cope with insecurities. Be powerful in at least my dreams. That's a typical adolescent wish, I guess. And let us be honest, kids love to dream about having super powers. Who wouldn't dream about a great destiny? Who wouldn't dream about being a knight? A hero?
Maybe that's why this post is so defensive. I'm worried about who might read this. On the other hand, if I want my kids to read my true self, I need to take the risk. I know myself. If I don't post this, I will lost the document. Anyway Memo, keep writing.
These dreams were great, until the moment I became an atheist. You can see there was an struggle. People wish there was magic in this world. Real magic. On one hand I was for the first time being 100% honest to the evidence; and in the other, my inner dreamer wanted to continue with the adventure. I made a truce. Dream whatever you want, but when you wake up, realize no matter how much it would be great for that to exist, it won't. I know how self-absorbed and plain silly all this sounds. You know kids. We love drama. We love epic. Anyway, that's how it went.
I grew in powers, skill and even in my dreams I had fame among demons. I don't recall when, but one day I decided that hunting in the streets wasn't enough. That day I crossed the line. I became rogue. Maybe my atheist part told me that there was no point in believing in angels. Anyway, I went to hell. Instead of fighting intruders, now I was moving the fight to their side. Once or twice I attempted to be a silent assassin. Killing big fishes and all that. I learned it was better to be a show off. It scared them more. So I became a plague, leaving entire kingdoms empty. Again, I don't know when, but one day I decided that I could be more powerful if I could eat their power. Only I didn't want to be taint. That's when I went to heaven. I found a way to purify their flesh by burning them up there. Of course, most of the power was gone once purified but I grew nonetheless. That went well for maybe two years. Until I decided that maybe there's a reason for demons to exist. I could hunt them all, but what would be gained? That's when I truly went neutral.
For two weeks or so I stopped dreaming about that second life. As if part of me had realized there was no point on doing that anymore. However, I'm used to it, so I became wary. People fear change, I guess, even if it is for the better. I suppose there's a part of me who tries to do something useful even when dreaming. Maybe that's why I constructed that imaginary world. Eventually, I returned to my adventures, but they were a bit dull. I decided to stop fighting in hell and be happy with my city being safe. That's when I had the last dream I talked about in this blog. As with any good series, I have arcs, I have enemies, regular cast, etc. I don't dream of god so often these days. I don't complain.
Then, two weeks ago, I had a strange dream. I hate the word "strange" because I have used it up so many times. My dreams routine is being different than the previous but in line with them. As if an ever expanding universe. I dreamed about being in charge of bringing the Apocalypse. Well, not really. When the dream started I had already resigned that position. I mean, the dream background (you know, when you dream, you already know tons of things so that the story isn't so slow) was that about a month before an angel told me to start packing the world. Find the worthy and bring havoc to the rest. For a while I rode along four horsemen bringing desolation and the usual things. It was fun, let me tell you. However a good friend, david stopped me. He asked me to be rational. I found out that this angel had attempted it several times through history. Even more, the same night he told me my mission, he went with seven more telling the same story. All of them with some kind of power. :@ Stupid me. Of course I returned the horsemen to their traps, I mean, sanctuaries. That's when the dream started. Imagine dreaming about telling the world "I'm sorry for bringing brimstone to all of you. I'm really sorry I shouldn't be so eager to follow angels. Please excuse me." Imagine returning to your family, your friends, your work and all of them know perfectly well how near it was.
You do have the power to raise mountains or sink the moon, but what does it matter when all the people you know, know you were about to bring the end to the world. I'm still ashamed of that action. In a meta-commentary, I do love my subconscious mind for this terrific twist. Now that I'm thinking it, why have I not attempted to hunt this angel??
Anyway, that day I woke up with much urgency to write the dream in this place. Yet I told myself, stop bitching about your super duper dream. No one cares. "I do" I promptly answered. "Well yes, but you always do. At least when you dream anything better than a blip." Note to the reader: I have categorized my dreams by the same metric as some do for ghosts. Blips are "anyone could have dream that". For example, the "Oh no, I didn't study for the test!" Drones are one level below "you are wasting your time dreaming about these things." For example, "You are working" or "You are watching TV" or "You are in the cafeteria".
Tonight I got another one.
That's why I'm here, writing this stuff. Because I can't keep it to me. A little voice says "aha! just as I tell you, this new dream season is pushing for rating!" So what do little memo dreamed now? I dreamed that I went back to having a "normal" life. People continued with their lives. A few became fans. Some went further and thought of myself as a messiah. I always told them that I am not. However maybe me curing the blind, sick and pretty much anyone who asks may have washed my argument. When all settled down, I was foolish enough to try to fix the world. I felt I was in debt for trying to destroy it. So I assumed the form of a demon, Balthazar, and gave the people a common enemy. I refrained myself of anything mighty. Once I brought an earthquake but that was the limit. My plan was to show the people that there are bad things in this world, but that joining forces normal people could hunt demons. Ok, that didn't went well. At first it did, but when you have two hundred people hunting you, they become a mob. I tried to fight the mob mentality. The angrier person I could see, I possess him (again trying to act like a demon). I wanted to show them that being irrational wouldn't be effective. However all that my plan brought was more fear. They killed the possessed man, thinking that would hurt the demon. :S They pushed it from the fourth floor. We died.
In several dreams, at least since secondary I have died. In thousands of ways. Yet more than anything I have died from height. That's why I learned to fly very soon. I hate dying because it hurts, all becomes dizzy and then fuzzy. I could have flight, but I knew that wouldn't accomplish anything to my plan. Ok, maybe I could have saved the life of an innocent. :S This time, I watched the body and saw how my spirit raised. I was thinking what to do next, when Death touched my spiritual shoulder. "What's up?" I said, having talked with him several times. I thought we was coming for the poor guy. In a very Terry Pratchet way, it turns out, there's a special Death role for situations like this. Who would have imagined that there's a clause that you die for real if you kill an innocent while dying? Death, is a nice guy, even when using his funny hat for this special occasion. He gave me 24 hours to close my business. I was a ghost now, but at least I had the power to manifest myself and do pretty much anything that doesn't require a body. My first closure act was to raise the innocent guy. Which unfortunately brought the messiah thing back into the table. Raising from the dead, isn't so difficult people, it's just not proper. It is rude. These souls normally go to a better place, and bringing them back isn't merry. So that's when I sit down and said to myself. Maybe it is for the better me dying. All I do is unnatural. Even when I try to fix my mess, all I do is fuck it more. However my fans had grew powerful themselves. They had learn tricks from following me, at least. Even when I didn't materialize, they could sense me. And follow me. They were avid to see me return to life on the third day! Damn it. I couldn't see them in the face. I was to dye, for good, this time. However the more silent I became, the more anxious my friends went. As if waiting for something... from them! Somehow they spread the word and people start showing up. That's when I decide to run and find myself a quiet spot. However in my rush to escape attention I only get more. Wherever I go, people can sense me and my magic. Like if I were a beacon of hope or something like that. They can feel something strange is happening. As soon as I stop I can see it for myself, I'm changing. I'm flickering. The moment is coming. I materialize myself, knowing it is the last time. "I love you all. Thanks for everything." All the people I care are there. In fact I can see all the people that exist at once. Then I burst. A warm light wave swifts the world. Like a big hug. When the "dust" falls all the people hear a song. I can't describe it as I have never heard anything like that. I know it is my true name and now I'm with everything. "Is this Nirvana?" Oops, I failed again. As soon as I had this conscious thought, I'm back. Stupid Memo! That was your perfect end. I'm still nowhere, but not really non existent :S However all is clear now, crystal clear. People who don't go Nirvana, normally go either to heaven or hell, yet people like me, atheist, don't follow that scheme. My option is backstage. I'm there, but I can't act in anyway. I can indulge in having a form if I wish so. It sounds familiar, so I get my old, normal shape. Now I walk behind the world, seeing all as it really is. I can see why others could think of this as a living hell. I don't. After a time I stop moving through places. I start meditating. All places are really the same, so I'm there the next year. People are gathering at the place I went nova. People are praying. That breaks my slumber. I recognize some faces. Some psychics are trying to read a footprint of my farewell. Buddhist monks tell the people that I am Buddha. Psychics confirm that I passed above phase, whatever that means. Of course, these psychics were bullshit, because now in this backstage all makes sense, so you can detect lies or nonsense by simply not making sense. However Buddhists made the bell ring. I was this close. Damn it. There's some sort of metric that when an enlighten goes, it leaves behind an ethereal flower. I can see it. Though before this talk I didn't look at it. When Siddharta went, it was a 110 petal flower. The Buddhist continue lecturing us about these flowers. Me, I got 30. The petals are a mark of how fit you were to be how it is supposed to be. That means that there's a threshold to ascend. Nice.
That's when I think, well I should keep meditating, I will be, in no time. Then my former friends start with the music. Each of them start telling how much they miss me. Fuck! I think at the same time I think "I wish I could be there for them."
A sharp light manifests, just above my "tomb". "No no no!" I yell. Fighting the reality torrent. Karma is a bitch. I'm back. "Hopefully you have learn something." I say to myself in a low voice. The crowd looks amazed. "Why am I in white robes?" I say in a voice that maybe they can hear. "Tell me you won't start yet another religion."
"I guess I can't avoid it."
The end. In a true Hollywood fashion, normal dreams are interleaved with the closure of this. I can see where this could go, but that would be another episode.

Great changes are in the horizon. I'm leaving my sheltered job for the adventure of living from what I care. I'm not that heroic, not as it sound. I'm leaving because I can't stand doing what I do one more month. I figured that if I'm gonna, basically, start from scratch I might as well do what I wish. My current job isn't satisfying, hasn't been in a long time. And I don't get much money. So I'm poor and have a dull job... Well no more! I will keep being poor for the foreseeable future, but at least I will challenge myself. If any friend reads this, now you know why I bought artemisa, now you know why I won't be seen so often (both in msn and parties).

This I will get thanks to allan and padilla. Yet, I will get it even without them, because I need it. I'm talking about a change in my core values. I'm full of projects, but I need to be a finisher. I know I have plenty of shortcomings for what the future will throw me. I also know I'm choosing, once again, the hard path. Friends have tried to "put some sense" in my new ambitions. To me, to them I answer. Second guessing has no room, only honest shots can be made. I'm utterly novice in being entrepeneur, but despite all this I firmly believe I can do it. I'm clever, willful and I know I'm not natural so I'll surround myself of the good people :P

Against all odds, my dream has never been to work in the video game industry. I don't have that passion. Against several odds, my dream has never been to be my own boss. I don't have that one either. I'm just a curious man trying to solve puzzles. =) And I'm becoming better playing the greatest game I have ever encountered.

Life's good.

I don't know if this blog has any sense anymore. Julio has better English than this poor blogger. :( Ok ok, kidding aside I got my TOEFL results. I was disappointed with myself. Yes, I knew my pronunciation has always been my weak spot, but writing is also so bad :'( It seems I'm able to speak fair enough about business or academics, but mundane chit chat is out of my current possibilities.
On the other hand I got excellent reading and listening scores. I hope that UA can see my good things. All this tests are required if I intend to study my master degree. Maybe it is an excuse, but I continue to believe that I did bad in writing for the same reason I'm good with listening. I have a fuzzy understanding of plenty of things. So I can understand without much clues. This understanding makes me not see the details, the irrelevant but existing patterns. So when I write, I write as I would understand, instead of what people are used to. It's like every time that allan told me to stop defining words, my way.

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The other day I drove my father to a street near el Santuario. For those of you not knowing, that place is where you can get cheap medicines. I hate that place, because I know it is illegal. Nonetheless I don't have the money to buy my father ever damn medicine he wants. I abhor how he decides which medicine to use, as if he was a physician. Yet my family constantly reminds me that it is not my decision how my father lives his life. Up to a point I agree. However I rather not help him poison himself... On the other hand he says he suffers without these medicines he has used fo so long. Anyway, I was there. By accident I scratched someone's car. And what did I do? I leave a note with my name and phone. I don't have much money in my bank account and people in the street told me to just run away. Even my father said it wasn't a good idea to do that. I hoped the other guy would see it wasn't a big deal and that he would pardon me. It isn't the case. Saturday morning I will pay. I'm still looking for a good place to fix my error.

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I have seen tons of times in TV how a lady in distress faints. That has nothing to do with the real thing! Just two days ago karina fainted! Wow. It was surreal. We were watching Dr. House, a specially bloody scene that brought her memories, when she calmly said "You do know what happens when I see blood, right?" I wasn't prepared. I thought it was a pop quiz. "Sure, you get all dizzy as if fainting. But come on, that's just a tv program. You won't believe that's actual blo..." I couldn't finish my line. She dropped. Barely I caught her in mid-air. Nervous laugh. I wasn't scared, nor loose my head. Just couldn't believe this was happening for real. I grabbed her, with special care to her head. With the same calm as she had done I call my mother to come. I rested karina over my bed. Sleeping Beauty. On the other hand, my mother went hysteric. I had to explain her it wasn't so bad. Anyway the lesson is, first aid curses do work. They teach simple lessons that can be handy the moment you less expect.

Yes, she is fine. Thanks for asking.

I dream about being a published author some day. If I have an ounce of art in my blood, let it be around written words. The problem is, I'm nowhere near where I want to be. I got a novel start :P My friends tell me I have a good narrative, which is better in Spanish, of course. However I feel I'm a bit like Larry Niven. Excuse me for this blasphemy I know I'm not really there, but keep with me.
I'm reading Interworld from Gaiman. I enjoy it, you don't know how much. However, I can summarize chapter 1 in one paragraph! How's that possible? I mean, had I had that idea, I would had a short story... I tend to be a conceptual writer. That's the similitude between myself and great Niven. You probably don't know, but SciFi got it's bad reputation from being a clever idea with plane characters. You probably don't know, because people don't really care about critical reading. They only know that they don't feel anything when reading Foundation. Maybe frustration. Integral Trees or Ringworld are beautiful master pieces of possible universes, but most people can't care for them. If I don't work hard and I'm lucky I would end up like that. What I carve is to be more Dune-like! And even that is boring for so many. Frankly, if I become Dune-like I won't care if some find my dull.
Anyhow, I'm also striving for a special balance. And here I may sound out of character. The Bible has some terrific literary constructs. I can worship the subtle biblical description. I mean, can anyone recall the samaritan story? The time when Jesus chatted by the well with a stranger? Wow. Unbelievable beauty. It conveys so much meaning. and at the same time it leaves open so many details. Today it seems strange to not briefly tell us how she looked, how her voice sounded of where did she came from. No. She is a stranger. What time of the day? Even what's her name... Doesn't matter. Paul--or whoever-- was a genius! You can enjoy it like that or you can know a bit more. For instance that she was a Samaritan. Samaritans used to be disliked by Jews, though by almost all accounts they were Jews. So knowing that bit enriches the image, but not knowing isn't punished. Wow. I won't go to further detail, for I don't want to be confused as a Super :P but let me tell you that I recognize beauty even in the things I don't like of the world.
On another topic, you know what else I want? Good dialogs. My "Aquellos Entonces" (my novel attempt) sucks in this aspect. My characters talk kind of forced. Incidentally that's why I started my Strip. Maybe that's why friends tell me they don't understand it. BTW, it's NOT a comic strip...
What I'm aiming for my first novel is real character development. I have always had some difficulty in that aspect. Let's describe it. I will use my friends as example :P If I had to describe allan my first attempt is: "former programmer, IT reporter". If I had to describe the last year or so... I would point to the travels and how different from his previous life it is now. Is this C.D? NO it is not! Maybe allan hasn't changed. Maybe my definition of C.D. is wrong. Or I'm being lazy. C.D. requires growing up?? Maybe he learns something new about life. Maybe he gets a new vice. C.D. doesn't need the change to be morally good. If I include his new "I want to have a master in linguistic", does that change it a bit? No, I don't think so. By themselves, they are scenes. I need a thread to wrap them.
His struggle to find his place in the gods-blessed world. Ok, maybe that formula may work. My high school teacher told me there are only 3 kinds of conflict: Man vs man. Man vs Nature/God and Man vs Himself. It's important to realize that Man vs woman is notably absent. Or Man vs dog isn't even in the table. But I digress, though I must write about it... someday. In this case, it seems it's allan vs allan. Now, what's the CD? Or maybe real life has no CD! Frodo was always the good guy. Maybe the Simpsons are right, Homer needs to be stupider every day to be real at all. Or maybe one year isn't enough in this plane of existence.
Let's jump to yorch's continuum. For all I know, his description would be "a workaholic". I know he got a new house and may have dangerous adventures in his town. However, what CD does he have? I'm thinking he has been the same for about 5 years. If anything, the current new thing is his new found love for Mexican wrestling. Maybe Crowley was right. A star can only shine. How this became about life? I think that's one of the values of good literature :P Anyway I have digressed much... Thanks for reading me!