It's on, bitch!

As a part of my job, I have to coordinate events called Health Fairs, that include giving prevention classes to an entire school, and setting up representatives of most departments of health agencies.

Just like World Fairs, except we don't appear in the Simpsons.

Last March, I had to set up one that included a school with eighteen groups, and over five hundred students. There was a vaccine module, arterial pressure check-ups, height and weight measurings, conferences, martial arts demostrations, etcetera.

This month, I have been tasked with organizing a much bigger event in a gargantuan school, with more than fifty groups and over 2500 students.

Metaphoric representation.

I can do this. Bring it on, bitch!

Jump in the Bandwagon! "Burn a Quran Day"!

A wacko's made the headlines again, by being as much of an asshole as he can.

In September 11, and in the midst of all the bigots vs. another religion event of the month, Saint Pastor Terry Jones is attempting to set ablaze as many copies of the Quran as he can find. 'Cuz, you know, burning religious stuff totally harms a religion and its worshippers. Must be some kind of shared psychic pain or something.

Those evil anti-Christians!....wait.

Jones wrote a book titled "Islam is of the Devil," and the church sells coffee mugs and shirts featuring the phrase. "I mean ask yourself, have you ever really seen a really happy Muslim? As they're on the way to Mecca? As they gather together in the mosque on the floor? Does it look like a real religion of joy?" Jones asks in one of his YouTube posts. "No, to me it looks like a religion of the devil."

 The poor kid has never had anyone to burn his holy books for him.

Of course, setting a bunch of books on fire doesn't exactly propels you to sainthood, but still. They've thought of everything. They even have a little army to protect them just in case someone tries to rescue a book from the flames of righteousness.

Bring the children and we'll give them pocket Quran books so they can burn them too! =D

I'd rather like it if the event has a big assistance. Hopefully all the bigots in the country will assist. With all of these sickos in one place and a burning going on... we can hope, right?

The Good, the Bad, and the Real

Recently I came across a very important book: MAUS, by Art Spiegelman.

Go read it. Highly recommendable.

It's always a pleasant surprise to find something that makes you think about your own work. In this case, it made me think about good and evil.

Most fiction makes it easy for the readers, by separating the cast in two easy categories, good and evil. Reality is not always like that. We know that the worst of crimes can be carried out with the best of intentions. So what happens when we put a fictional person in the "evil" role? How do we portray them as the villain we want to show?

That's actually a trope.

I have read piles upon piles of fantasy books that conform themselves with setting the bad guy in a dark tower, where he lives and does dark machinations, mwahaha.

Boring!

That'd be dealt with very easily in the real world. Either the bad guy's lair would be carpet-bombed to kingdom come, or he'd be elected president.

It all depends on Fox News, really.

I think that the real evil isn't out there, brooding in some dark fortress, commanding its minions to come and get us. That's just a little above the old boogeyman tale.

No, the real bad things happen from inside. From people we trust and love. From those you'd expect it the less. And inside every one of us, there is a surprising amount of darkness waiting to take hold.

Don't waste your time looking for the enemy who's looking to undermine your freedom and terminate your rights. You can face it in the mirror.

What are they waiting for?!

I have seen marvels beyond my imagination during my lifetime.

I have traveled over the clouds in potent birds of steel. I have become one with all the nerds in the world thanks to the internet. I have had lasers shot at my face to heal and not vaporize my eyes. I have had entire orchestras playing inside a device that fits in my pocket.

SO WHERE THE HELL ARE THESE THINGS?:

- Something that'll help people park inside a painted square.
- Bottlecaps that won't break my fingers in the cold winter.
- A comic that'll automatically sensor if the reader's an adult and show (female only) nipples.
- A GPS that'll point me towards true love.

Perhaps I will see these things in the 80-something years I have left, assuming I don't die in a way that'll assure a violent revenge.

Shaping up the Novel

My novel is progressing, but it needs a lot of adjustments. For example, the title. Is there anything more childish and stupid than "The Magic Extinction"? And that's the overall trilogy title.

The ones I've come up with for each books are possibly worse. The first book's working title is "The Heirs of Magic". The second one, "Vigerens Fall" (I actually like that one. It's a wordplay). The third one I haven't even thought of. I'm putting all of my mediocrity batteries on the first book for the moment.

The novel, as you might have already guessed from the titles, is a fantasy. Not a medieval fantasy, though, which seems to be the standard for about 75% of fantasy novels out there. And it's not precisely an urban fantasy. The world it's set in has a little modern technology in the western continent, and much moe advanced in the eastern one. That's because of the two races living on them, mages and non-mages, respectively.

There are no elves, dwarves, dragons, unicorns or even horsies here. There are two "magic" swords, and both of them are destroyed by the end of the second book. There are no kings or princesses, o orphan farmboys, no evil chancellors, no dark towers of the evil, evil wizards.

It's the story of a world as it faces it's armaggeddon. It's also the story of a young man who learns his place in the world. There are but two characters I'd call "evil" in the entire story, and they're very human, cruel, and ruthless, and perhaps because of that, more dangerous and harmful than any dark overlord sitting on a dark tower. The true antagonists are forces of nature, beyond good or evil.

It might sound very pretentious, but I assure you that I just want to tell my story. I only hope it's written well enough so that few readers will put it down before finishing it.

Break on Through the Softer Side

Yesterday I saw the movie Julie & Julia (which is good, me recommends it), and noticed something.

The main character, Julie, has a blog. She takes it upon herself to write OVER NINE THOUS- sorry, over five hundred recipes in a year. During the first weeks, she's worried that she has no comments, and thus, no readers. Why does she write then? Is somebody, anybody, reading her antics?

Alternative Interpretation.

Yes. It doesn't matter where in the great world of the internet you'll publish it, someone will read it. Which lead me to think about something else: Think about what you're going to write. An emotion conveyed through any media will affect the reader, in multiple ways.

This is why I think a writer should take measures to prevent making an ass of himself. Write something hateful, and odds-on, someone will share your hatred with you, however wacky, ignorant, or over-the-top it might be.

  

One of (sadly) many examples.

Write something good, however, and you might make your reader smile. He or she might have had a horrid day, in this pretty crapsack world we live in, but if you can give them a smile, even if it's just because your blog has a photo of a puppy, your effort will have been more than worth it.

Enjoying and having fun. What's life without those two?

The Creepies

Recently I came across a certain website that posted several "urban legends" (called "Easter Eggs"), scary stories  hardly longer than a paragraph. I liked this concept, but sadly there weren't enough of them. So, I decided to add a few ones. Enjoy!

***

Somewhere in the desert between Arizona and New Mexico, there is a wooden shack. It has been abandoned for decades, and no plants or animals approach it. If you enter, you will feel an instant drop in temperature. Apart from a coat of dust in the floor, the inside it’s empty, except for a single chair in the middle, upon which sits a porcelain doll. If you take the doll in your arms, it will be very heavy. If you sing her a lullaby, she will open her eyes. If you ask her a question about your future, a third eye will open in her forehead. She will be able to see into your soul and predict your fate, but be careful: If you ask too many questions, you will become part of the dust in the floor.

There is a building in Chicago that doesn’t appears in any map. All the people passing by appear to ignore it, but if you’re looking for it, it will be visible. It is very old, the architecture is gothic, and it dwarves the tallest buildings in the city. At dusk, the whole building appears to be on fire. There are no visible entrances to the building, and no people can be seen through the windows. However, if you go to its western side at midsummer, you will find an alley where there should be none. At dusk, the light will enter the alley, stopping at a specific point. Blood will start to seep through the bricks at this point, forming patterns and then letters. If you follow the instructions, you will know which point to tap. If you do it correctly, the wall will open, and beyond you will see an impossible, beautiful landscape. The memory of such a paradise will remain forever in your memory, and it can be a bliss when you confront hardship. You can attempt to go through the portal, but beware: If you are not worthy, the wall will close on you, and you will know where the blood came from.

A portal in the internet, apparently inoffensive, includes a link right at the bottom. If you follow this link, you will be redirected to a page containing only videos of torture and murder, very graphic and realistic. You won’t be able to move a finger or take your eyes off your screen, and you will be forced to see these horrible scenes of rape and violence for an entire day. After twenty-four hours have passed, you will be treated to one final scene, the most terrible of all. Does the victim look familiar?

There is a serial killer in New York city. Information about him has not been released, due to fear that it will create a massive panic: The death toll of this murderer is well over six hundred. From time to time, he will leave a note next to a sealed tin can, somewhere in Central Park. When opened, a rancid smell will come out: Dry blood, and anywhere between a dozen and thirty small, loose teeth. The note will be written in blood, and it always reads “Do you know where your children are?”

Due to a gentlemen’s agreement, a very old book is passed between universities every year. It will be stored in the deepest section of the library, with special care that it never receives the sunlight. During that year, the school will have high grades, excel in any competition and receive much more funding than usual. But sixteen students will have killed themselves by the end of the year.

In an antique store in Poland, there is an old, rusted Swiss Army knife. It has no price tag, and if you ask the owner, he will say that it’s just for display. If it’s examined closely, the cross engraved on it is different: There are small lines crudely set on every end, making it a small swastika. The stains on the blade look very peculiar, and if you ask the owner about them, he will give you a dark smile and say that it saw a lot of use in the camps during the last war.

A mansion in New Orleans has an enormous doll house. It takes an entire room, and is very detailed, with many stairs, halls, and rooms. The dolls on it, however, are horrible, misfigured, and smell worse than corpses. They belonged to an eccentric doctor, who learned about the shrunken heads of the Amazonia and perfected the technique.

Have you ever measured your house? Try it, every floor and every room. They don’t add up correctly. That’s because an unspoken tradition of ancient masonry. To ensure that the house will remain standing in times of dire need, a sacrifice must be made from an unknowing worker. And the body must remain there.