Nihil

An Absent Word

2011-12-14T21:35:00.001Z

There was a time when I relished these kinds of moments. Serene earthquakes, discolored skies, unfinished waterfalls. Staggered, tired, calm. There was always this other word that accompanied the mentioned; not this time, though. A word that made all the difference, and indicated the end and start of a new era of my life.

However, the absence of this word comes with a bittersweet sentiment. As if it were the collateral damage of a teared-down, century-old, mob house; I'm glad is gone, but, alas, the memories and, well, the damage is still damage.

This era doesn't have an expected end apparently, and I'm still not at peace of not knowing what that means in the long run. In the short, I'm obviously thrilled, like I always am (was?). Life, my life, it seems, is now a marathon, not a collection of sprints as it was at first. I now throttle, not run; big change for a man who changed his surroundings more times than he'd like to admit in less than a decade (as I finished writing this sentence, I found myself grinning from the fact that I used the word "man", without realizing, to describe me; big change indeed). This is the bitter part.

And it's fine, as much as I hate its indifferent connotations. I suppose that there comes a time in which the intensity of one's life should be degraded to a reward of accomplishments, instead of the whole of its drive. It's like a drug that helps you live better by making you feel better; it's dangerous when it becomes the end instead of the mean. Transcending that requirement of intensity signifies good judgement and, hell, a better person. This is the sweet part.

So, with that in mind, I forgo my thrive and drive, and I'll try to never be satisfied. Because, even though it does feel good to signal an era with the feeling of satisfaction, it also implies the feeling of abandonement of that era's pursuit. As a kid in a candy warehouse, jumping from one hall to the next, I never have actually felt "finished", even though that's the feeling I'm pursuing; as if it were the end of the mean.

It was a good feeling, though, feeling satisfied; alas, the memories. However, the damage is still damage, and the marathon I've been unknowingly running is catching up with me. I better start learning how to throttle.

My Erdős Number

2011-03-26T01:29:00.006Z

Paul Erdős was a very prolific mathematician, and, although technically homeless, he lived with his collaborators, with his famous initial greeting "my mind is open", during their work together. When finished, he moved to the house of another collaborator. He thought of mathematical research as a social event.

As a type of homage, ~~after his death,~~ friends of his gave themselves an "Erdős Number" that measured the "collaborative distance" from him. Erdős has the number 0 (and the only that has it), people that have co-authored with him have the number 1, co-authors of co-authors of Erdoős have the number 2, and so on. There's more information in the Wikipedia article on Erdős Number.

In any case, apparently I have one. In the following list of publication, the numbers in brackets are the author's corresponding Erdős number:

Erdős, P. [0]; Gerencsér, L.[1]; Máté, A. Problems of graph theory concerning optimal design. Combinatorial theory and its applications, I (Proc. Colloq., Balatonfüred, 1969), pp. 317–325. North-Holland, Amsterdam, 1970.

Gerencsér, László [1]; Rissanen, Jorma [2] Asymptotics of predictive stochastic complexity. New directions in time series analysis, Part II, 93–112, IMA Vol. Math. Appl., 46, Springer, New York, 1993.

Rissanen, J. [2]; Ljung, L. [3] Estimation of optimum structures and parameters for linear systems. Mathematical systems theory (Proc. Internat. Sympos., Internat. Centre Mech. Sci., Udine, 1975), pp. 92–110. Lecture Notes in Econom. and Math. Systems, 131. Springer, Berlin, 1976.

Hagenblad, Anna; Ljung, Lennart [3]; Wills, Adrian [4] Maximum likelihood identification of Wiener models. Automatica J. IFAC 44 (2008), no. 11, 2697–2705.

Heath, W. P. [5]; Wills, A. G. [4] Design of a cross-directional controllers with optimal steady state performance. Eur. J. Control 10 (2004), no. 1, 15–29.

Li, G.; Heath, W. P. [5]; Lennox, B. [6] Concise stability conditions for systems with static nonlinear feedback expressed by a quadratic program. IET Control Theory Appl. 2 (2008), no. 7, 554–563.

Rascon, C. [7]; Lennox, B. [6]; Marjanovic, O. Recovering Independent Components from Shifted Data using FastICA and Swarm Intelligence. Applied Spectroscopy 63(10), Oct. 2009.

So, my Paul Erdős number is 7. Not bad, I suppose.

EDIT (2011-03-28): It has come to my attention that the Erdős Number concept was created well before Erdős' death.

Safe

2010-12-26T06:57:00.001Z

I've been longing for the ableness of yester. I've been somewhat successful with the reinvention I've put myself into early this year. I feel focused, and, for once, I'm listening to my needs and my wants. More importantly, I've come to be in peace with the fact that in many cases the former will not be the same as the latter, but has a higher priority.

However, I stand here, as always, doubtful. I've realized that the inclination with which I've grown (or want to have grown) feels... how can I put this?

I had a good description of it a minute ago, I swear.

Darn! I just had it.

I'm looking at my still hands at the keyboard, grinning, unable of thinking of another word other than boring.

I know what you're thinking, and I concur. This is where I need to be, and in the most part, I want to be. I have a good job, a challenging job (the concept "boring" is far, far from its description). I've endured test after test, where I have been learning, even sometimes to the point of requiring time off from it, which, may I add, I've learned to administer well. I've made progress academically, and the people around me have noticed it. My love relationship has grown beautifully, to the point that we're taking the next step in it, and it is coming forth very organically, swiftly, as I've always wanted a relationship to be like. I've also been building friendships, slowly, but surely, and I've lighten up their darkness as their shine have brighten mine.

Basically, I've learned, nay, I now know that Rome wasn't built in a day, and that it was burnt in less than one. I am being weary of that, and this past year, as you've read/seen, is evidence of it. Ironically, I think that has been the source of my boredom.

I've been too careful. Too safe. Too many baby steps. Too few risks. And, even though there has been progress, it has been too little. I'd love to say that this is me being the ambitious guy I want to be, but, frankly, I'm just not sure. Maybe this was what I needed this year, feeling safe and all. I must admit though, it feels good. It's just that I didn't expect any collateral damages. How ironic: it seems as though being safe has it risks. Doing nothing can also hurt, it's just a pain that crawls up on you softly and stings every time you look back.

So, boredom, our next foe. I hope that Periquín Plumero was right:

Todo lo que emprendas hazlo sin prisa, pero sin pausa.

Everything that you undertake do it without hurry, but without pause.

Periquín Plumero, from Cri-Crí, a children radio character.

Academia

2010-12-06T22:24:00.009Z

Academia is a weird monster. It preys on silhouettes of new thought foundations, but ends up eating itself. It is supposed to be the route with which mankind can evolve, and control its own evolution, towards a greater tomorrow. It is supposed to encompass the best that we as a species can generate, and, while I don't doubt that this is the case, I also know that it also encompasses the worst.

I have procrastinated writing this post, not because of laziness (although, it was factor), but because I didn't feel I had the experience nor had seen enough in Academia to make a well-informed argument towards it. I still feel the same way. However, as Oscar Wilde stated:

The young are always ready to give to those who are older than themselves the full benefits of their inexperience.

I was interested in Research, at first, for romantic reasons: pushing the world forward, with a great possibility of teaching in the process. Then, the status of "Doctor" became my drive. My ultimate push was the frustration of the mediocre, greedy incompetence that plagued the Industrial sector.

I quickly realized that it wasn't all that different. That frustrating incompetence is also prevalent in the Academic sector, just with different resources, means, and hats. The objective is disappointingly still mainly the same: money, power, and notoriety. Even the noble act of teaching has been demeaned to a set of meaningless protocols where he who has the most history and/or connections gets to decide how, when, why, where, and what to teach. I appreciate the reasoning behind it (those with more experience have better judgement), but, as with most of the human psyche, "experience" can be subjective, and too much of it can actually hinder the overall Education/Research process.

I could propose some fixes, but it will involve solutions that every good scientist has thought of:

Make Research be a joyous process, not just another job. Salary, bonuses, promotions, etc. should be removed, and the university/institution provide housing/entertainment/daycare services directly to the researcher. There would be nothing to gain for, just research results and bragging rights. This is very similar to the philosophy behind the Open Source initiative, and I believe it is more than adequate to be applied in Academia. It won't be glamorous, obviously, but that's alright, Research shouldn't be glamorous (just ask Paul Erdős).
Bragging rights are just for that: bragging. They aren't supposed to be used as part of an argument to win an academic discussion. Meaning, the phrase "I discovered plutonium. I know what I'm talking about. I'm right." is a moronic way to make a point. Everybody, even the young ones, are allowed to be skeptic of anyone. It is the duty of the elders (and any researcher, for that matter) to present a logical, step-by-step argument of why they're right.
All publishing committees must require to have, for every sought after publications, at least two reviewers with opposing views. That way, every algorithm or novel process that discredits or out-dates a current algorithm or process has a chance to be reviewed without a conflict of interest involved.

Like I said, nothing new, which is disappointing as there hasn't been much done in this regard, even though many fixes are right in front of everybody. Dinosaurs still roam the Earth, and offending them, even by means that are irrelevant in Research, implies little evolution. Well, doing anything, even nothing, implies little evolution, and thus lies the frustration.

But I'm young (at least, that's how the Academia has welcomed me), and I am aware that being young equates to inexperience. I'll probably read this in a decade or so and smile in condescension of my stupid, ironically-naive, pessimistic view on Academia. The problem is I'll most likely welcome it.

Common Sense

2010-11-08T21:17:00.005Z

Reason. Logic. Common sense.

The train connecting the two terminals in Mexico City Airport does not allow passengers without a boarding pass. The city's subway only reaches one of the terminals. If you don't have a boarding pass, like in the case of a father that wants to see his child off and takes the subway, a fee-based bus needs to be taken from one terminal to another instead.

There are some medical insurance policies that state that a person needs to call the insurance company to approve for ambulance transport, even if the person has been in an accident that have rendered him/her unconscious.

In Mexico, a birth certificate is required for most bureaucratic federal procedures, including obtaining an electoral id. Such an electoral id is not sufficient when it is used to identify a person for other type of procedures (school paperwork, house leasing, etc.), so both documents are required even though one is dependent of the other. To add to the stupidity of it all, if you do have an electoral id but have lost your birth certificate, you can get one if you have an electoral id.

Advertising is what pays the TV producers to put on shows, and the reason why there are public channels that are free to watch for anybody that owns a TV. Customers pay for cable TV as well as when they go to the movies, because the cinema and movie makers need to cover costs and make profit. However, there is advertising in both these scenarios, meaning that the customer is literally paying to watch commercials.

There's a reason why it's called common sense. It's a shared definition of logic, with which we all can agree on what is the right/logical thing to do. But more and more it feels as though that it is slipping, a symptom of the fact that we're more and more far apart, and that our common ground is shrinking.

The reason for this is depressingly simple: fear. The train company doesn't want the airline to think that it is being used by everybody, just by its customers, so they won't feel as a security risk. The insurance company wants to control the payment process so there aren't any unnecessary costs. Bureaucratic procedures want to have both documents, just in case of fraud. Advertising is used to lower the price of cable bills and movie tickets as less and less people are watching TV or going to the movies.

Seat-belts, water fountains, outdoor parking. You can find something that doesn't make sense in any of these that's linked to a protocol set in place to assure somebody that everything is going according to plan. And that somebody feels that there isn't a need to treat others as adults to explain why things are carried out as such.

Fear of losing customers, of high costs, or just plain uncertainty. Ironically, because of fear, the plan built to avoid it is rarely well thought out. The airline could have put the entrance to the train after the boarding pass inspection that is already carried out in the entrance to the gates's area, and just have one big security entrance near the subway station in the first terminal. The insurance company could just slightly raise the premium to include ambulance transport, and explain it to the customer. An electoral id is enough, if there is fear that the id is fake, a birth certificate can be equally falsified and the identification process can be thrown out the window. I can watch commercials at home, either take them out and raise the ticket/billing cost or keep them altogether and bring more in to the point that cable TV and the movies are completely free: anything in between is infuriatingly confusing.

The reason why this is a problem is that it bundles up, to the point in which people, myself included, learn to take it and not question it.

That's how things are done. If we speak up, we'll just lose time.

Why is my Mexican citizenship being questioned when entering Mexico while I am carrying a Mexican passport? Why am I required to provide 5 copies of paperwork to an office that has a copying machine? Why are there accessibility ramps in the entrance of my 4-floor office building but it doesn't have an elevator?

Bring the reasons out in the open, explain yourselves, your solution may not be in your best interests: they are definitely not in ours. "This is our policy," doesn't cut it. The plan brought out by your fear of losing customers, high costs, and plain uncertainty is becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you can't see the video, go to:
Barry Schwartz: The real crisis? We stopped being wise

Qur'an, Bible, Torah, etc.

2010-09-08T20:15:00.001+01:00

During this couple of days, there have been news about a pastor planning to burn copies of the Qur'an during the anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, which coincides with this year's Eid ul-Fitr (the celebration of the end of Ramadan). I rarely comment on recent news, but this story is very interesting because it puts the spotlight on the line between two sensitive issues: religious correctness and freedom of speech.

I, as a free man living in free country (theoretically), can do whatever I want as long as I don't hurt or endanger a third party. I am free to run naked around my house, bathe myself in milk, and frolic under my rug afterwards. I am not hurting anybody in the process.

However, also as a free man, I can conduct any type of religious beliefs and rituals. I am free to belief the sun is really a glowing disc put there by a giant rabbit, called Sarah, and that, with the moon, both glowing balls are her scrotum dangling in the sky. I am free to worship Sarah as written down in the traditions of Sarahcism.

The problem lies when one of these freedoms intersects with the other: if Sarahcism forbids me to bathe myself in milk, because Sarah is a mammal and thus milk is sacred, and condemns anybody that does so to eternity in Pumpkin Land (rabbits don't like pumpkins; and you don't want to live there, trust me), paradoxically I'm effectively being limited by a freedom.

This is were religion irks me. It's an illusion of having "no choice" of doing or not doing something, that you yourself have decided to believe (yes, it's a choice, nobody is born believing in Jesus). Burning the Qur'an, the Bible, or the Torah being condemned as blasphemy is illogical, as these books themselves are an embodiment of blasphemy. A man, a mortal, a creation of God, thought he heard voices, wrote them down, and claimed them as being The Words of God. How dare he put himself up as the messenger of an all-knowing all-capable God? Pretty blasphemous if you ask me. If God wanted these words to be known throughout mankind, they would have been imprinted in us since birth; words such as love, compassion, and empathy (sound familiar?). These words mean something and resonate in all of us; the Qur'an, the Bible, or the Torah are just books that some people agree with and others don't.

However, it is still your freedom to believe in limiting yourself, but I have no obligation in believing in that same limitation. In fact, I am free to limit myself in a whole different manner than you. I can burn your book, I can shit on it, wipe myself with it, and eat it (in that order if I want to). You can call Sarah an exhibitionist furry whore, with an addiction to milk, that will probably die of a bladder infection. We are free to do that, as our limitations are not the same, and even though you may hurt my feelings doing so, I am not free of being insulted.

"... as long as I don't hurt or endanger a third party", nowhere does it include feelings; and faith is just that: a feeling. Muslim can burn Bibles, Jews can eat in front of a Muslim during Ramadan, and Christians can blow off the Hanukkah lights. Anyone doing any of these things is not committing a crime, he's just being a douche. It's just one personal limitation not being the same as another. And permitting these limitations is not "following the law", it's just being considerate and thoughtful; and there's no legal obligation to be any of them.

Now, if somebody commits an actual crime in the name of God, the only thing you can point is that they have committed a crime, period. Their freedom impeded somebody else's, and that's the fault. The religious reasoning (whatever that is) behind the crime is irrelevant in the process of deciding if the person did a crime or not. It only points out the twisted limitation he has imposed in himself. Any generalization that persons with similar limitations are bound to do the same crime is an extremely stupid extrapolation, as such limitations are personal, always; no two Christians interpret the Bible in exactly the same way.

So, what do I think of the Qur'an-burning pastor? He's free to do whatever he wants, and burning a book has rarely hurt anyone. And it's not like he's going to burn the last copies of the Qur'an; there are plenty to go around. If he'd use the fire to begin burning neighboring houses, that's another story. He has a big yard, though, I wouldn't worry.

However, by burning copies of the Qur'an he has definitely, irrevocably, undeniably achieved the title of Complete and Utter Douche. Congratulations, scumbag.

I just need to share this.

2010-08-18T00:14:00.006+01:00

HOW TO BE ALONE
by Tanya Davis

If you are at first lonely, be patient. If you've not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren't okay with it, then just wait. You'll find it's fine to be alone once you're embracing it.

We could start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library. Where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books. You're not supposed to talk much anyway so it's safe there.

There's also the gym. If you're shy you could hang out with yourself in mirrors, you could put headphones in.

And there's public transportation, because we all gotta go places.

And there's prayer and meditation. No one will think less if you're hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.

Start simple. Things you may have previously based on your avoid-being-alone principals.

The lunch counter. Where you will be surrounded by chow-downers. Employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town and so they -- like you -- will be alone.

Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.

When you are comfortable with eat lunch and run, take yourself out for dinner. A restaurant with linen and silverware. You're no less intriguing a person when you're eating solo dessert to cleaning the whipped cream from the dish with your finger. In fact some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.

Go to the movies. Where it is dark and soothing. Alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.

And then, take yourself out dancing to a club where no one knows you. Stand on the outside of the floor till the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one's watching...because, they're probably not. And, if they are, assume it is with best of human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats is, after all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you're sweating, and beads of perspiration remind you of life's best things, down your back like a brook of blessings.

Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you.

Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, there're always statues to talk to and benches made for sitting give strangers a shared existence if only for a minute and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversations you get in by sitting alone on benches might've never happened had you not been there by yourself.

Society is afraid of alonedom, like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements, like people must have problems if, after a while, nobody is dating them. but lonely is a freedom that breaths easy and weightless and lonely is healing if you make it.

You could stand, swathed by groups and mobs or hold hands with your partner, look both further and farther for the endless quest for company. But no one's in your head and by the time you translate your thoughts, some essence of them may be lost or perhaps it is just kept.

Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those sappy slogans from preschool over to high school's groaning were tokens for holding the lonely at bay. Cuz if you're happy in your head than solitude is blessed and alone is okay.

It's okay if no one believes like you. All experience is unique, no one has the same synapses, can't think like you, for this be releived, keeps things interesting life's magic things in reach.

And it doesn't mean you're not connected, that communitie's not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it. take silence and respect it. if you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it. if your family doesn't get you, or religious sect is not meant for you, don't obsess about it.

You could be in an instant surrounded if you needed it.

If your heart is bleeding make the best of it.

There is heat in freezing, be a testament.

EDIT (2010-08-23): The creator of the posted video was interviewed a while ago. The interviewer (Simon Owens, who I appreciate making it known to me) had a beautiful sentiment on the matter:

I guess it’s worth noting the irony that someone who created a video called “How To Be Alone” would derive such pleasure from the human positive feedback that resulted from posting said video. But perhaps the poem even predicted this seeming contradiction [in its second-to-last paragraph].

Spot on.

The Doc's Always Right

2010-07-23T10:16:00.007+01:00

I was sitting in my garage one late afternoon; reading and thinking. I always tended to remember my dad during that part of the day. I remembered the evening after Verne and I came back from 1888 after he tried to change my parents' minds of naming him Verne just before he was born. Dad told us, "Don't worry, lads, time has a way of fixing itself." He was right, he was always right. Verne turned out to be named Verne after himself; quite the story.

Then, the shocks and fumes of time-travel interrupted my reminisce. After the smoke cleared the DeLorian door opened, while all the too-familiar myst floated down. It was in very bad shape: the tail light where we hid the emergency button was broken and sparks were flying down the back of the car. It was definitely much more teared down than how we left it in the warehouse after dad died. Something was clearly at odds.

Only one person I know was able to time travel and land inside a garage. He stepped out, with the look of savagery I knew from when we were little. "Verne?" I gasped.

"How is it that you always recognize me?" he flaunted.

"You shouldn't be here. You... I... You're dead in this year. I saw you fall myself," I stuttered, while trying not to see him.

"Julie, Julie. Of course I know I'm dead in this year. Well, not me, technically," he had a disgusting stare I've never seen from him before. "It's funny, I kind of expected a much more manly version of you in this time line, with my death and all, but nope. Same all, same all. It's as if you're the same wuss regardless of the time line you're in," he muscled out with an undistinguishable accent.

"Time line?", I hastily questioned.

"Inter-temporal-line travel," he paused, while stretching his back. "You've heard of it, right? Passage between time lines?"

My eyes widened, my heart began racing, "It can't be. I saw dad's blueprints. You would need to map every possible outcome of every possible temporal fork from the beginning of time right until its end. Dad trashed it because it was obviously..."

"Impossible. Yes, I've heard," cracking his neck. "Your dad was a brilliant man, don't get me wrong, but he only went so far. Your time line's Verne on the other hand; he was something else. Inter-temporal-line travel was a superb idea that can only be of a superb mind like Verne's," he sighed.

"But, my dad told me that..." I quibbled.

"Look, it's understandable how your dad reacted. His son has just died and he found his blueprints describing an idea he thought was ludicrous. What was he going to tell you? That your freshly deceased brother was a nut case?" he interrupted. I froze in shock.

"It's a shame, really. Verne's Temporal Fork Analysis and Compression Algorithm was a masterpiece. Made it so much simpler, " he paused, condescendingly looking at me to finish his thought. "Can you guess how?"

"I... uhmm... well," I stumbled. "I suppose that each temporal fork is linked to another, so they can theoretically be grouped into one," I said, trying to pull myself together. "But even if you could group them, the resulting amount of groups would still be enormous," I inquired. He nodded.

I went on, "Having them linked, however, would make them related in such a way that they can be filtered by some sort of relevancy factor; a type of measurement of how a fork affects the following forks. In that way, the amount of forks could be reduced to a practical size," I paused. He smiled. "But how can you calculate such a complex factor?" I nervously asked.

"Your brother came up with a simple but elegant solution to that problem: ask the user to provide that relevancy factor. Make the user act as the filter. That's how he came to my time line: he wanted to meet his alter ego. And your brother was very thrusting with his findings," he said, while stepping closer. "I'm definitely glad I stopped by."

"What is it that you want from this time line?" I stepped back.

"You see, you've just confirmed that you can recreate your beloved Verne's plans. And, actually, you're the only one left that can do that, Julie," I felt his knife clawing into the inside of my liver. "Y'know, one would think that the future would have provided far more practical weapons than knives, but they're all traceable and far less sneaky. Besides, the police, not to mention the federal government, would go nuts with a person burned to death by gamma radiation in this country, leading to social chaos, which would then lead to nuclear war, blah, blah, blah."

I felt numb all over while my knees touched the ground. "But being stabbed and left for dead in your garage, with your house a mess? Oh, that's far more common, far more menial, far more expected. And, according to Verne's design, your death by robbery will only inconvenience the Truman family across the street; something about burial grounds custody. But that's it. Your life is literally without significance. No wife. No family, whatsoever. Not even a dog to keep you company. Couldn't find a replacement for Einstein? Didn't like that puppy you saw in the pet store three weeks ago? Lucky me. That dog would've barked, the Kevin kid next door would've suspected, his parents would've gotten involved. You get the idea. You would've named her Marie Curie, by the way. She's long gone, and the Jules of that time line is too. Oh, and Kevin? He tripped and fell in the well out back."

"You killed my brother," I whispered while I was finding oxygen in the air around me without luck, "You pushed him over the edge."

"Hiking accident. Brilliant, isn't it?" He smiled.

"Why?" I coughed.

"Because now I can be the only one, Julie," he whispered.

I could feel my body wanting to faint, and I didn't have the energy to keep it from doing so. My face touched the ground while all my body felt as if it were going somewhere without moving.

As I was hearing how Verne was tearing up my living room, I could see the sparks flying down the car and the emergency button dangling close beside them. The wires that connected the button to the small quantity of nitroglycerin inside the DeLorian were swelling up and were about to make contact. The last thing I felt was a swift air wave knocking me over and the last thing I heard was the scream of that other Verne.

"Don't worry, lads, time has a way of fixing itself."

You were right, dad, you were always right.

Magic Yellow

2010-07-21T07:01:00.004+01:00

Surrounded by wilderness, I'm hearing sounds that I shouldn't be. Cars stopping and going, children loudly demanding their parents' attention, and planes whooshing by. I'm standing here with a forest in front of me and a grocery store behind me; to my right, a canyon with an incessant river forming it; to my left, The Canyon Village Lodge with Wi-Fi and Sky TV at your disposal.

Six years ago, I wouldn't have thought of wishing that this trip would be more "roughing it" than "need more clean towels". But it is what it is, and my parents aren't up for the latter kind of trip. And I suppose that I should be grateful that a national park like Yellowstone is so accessible, but am I too melancholic to think that its accessibility is fading away its magic?

Taking pictures of wild animals from the car doesn't ring "wilderness"; it screams "Disneyland", and the two are definitely mutually exclusive. I can't find a moment beside a waterfall alone to hear the relaxing sound of, well, water falling, because every two seconds there's a camera going off or a mother calming down her kid. This is clear evidence that Yellowstone isn't a place for sightseeing anymore, but an amusement park that has no roller-coasters.

Take Old Faithful: it is the most watched attraction in Yellowstone, not because of its size or extravagancy (it's not the biggest nor the most extravagant), but because it's the most predictable and its schedule is compatible with that of man. The visitor center provides a predicted hour it will go off and has a little sign that says "Remember: we don't schedule, we predict", an implicit confession of the many occurrences in which people have complained about Old's "misbehavior". A ranger actually had to tell a group of people, while we were waiting, that there wasn't a man-controlled pump below the surface that made it go off.

By the way, Old Faithful blows around every 40-80 minutes, so you can go have lunch at any of the three (yes, three) different cafeterias nearby if you just missed it.

We were lucky enough to be present while a much lesser known geyser, The Grand Geyser, blew it's 24 hour load (5 hours give or take). It's huge, freaking huge, and lasts almost 15 minutes (almost three times longer than Old). But it isn't practical for amusement-park minds; and no more than twenty people were there experiencing it. Compare that to the more than a hundred people that came in to see Old and left the geyser basin right after to go the gift shop 50 yards away.

Don't get me wrong: I loved that almost nobody was there to see Grand. It was solitary. I could hear it bubbling up and gushing sulphuric water up in the sky. For a moment, I could hear the Earth breathe. The people that were there are now forever connected. It was magical, like all Yellowstone should be.

There is no quiet place in your cities, no place to hear the leaves of spring or the rustle of insects' wings... The Indians prefer the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of the pond, the smell of the wind itself cleansed by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine. The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath - the animals, the trees, the man. Like a man who has been dying for many days, a man in your city is numb to the stench.
Chief Si'ahl
Leader of the Suquamish and Duwamish Tribes, Washington State

PS. If you laughed at any of the "load", "go off", or "freaking huge" double-entendres, you can be my friend.

I'll Show You Mine if You Show Me Yours

2010-07-12T21:23:00.006+01:00

I rarely watch television anymore. It wasn't in small part because of how unimpressed I am up with the writing quality of many of the series; another is that the series that I do like always get cancelled. But a third is how so many of the series seem to be overly feministic: the woman is strong and overcoming, while the guy, if there is any, is either a stupid ass that is lucky to be the woman's object of interest or a completely fictitious blue prince that the woman drools over but everybody knows doesn't exist.

Unfortunately, I don't know if the pseudo-reality in television has spilled over to society or the other way around, as in most metropolitan areas in USA and Mexico the man is know pushed aside. The reasons vary: we are the ones that start wars, we are the perverted ones, we,men, are the problem. Thus, we need to sit in the back of the Metrobus while the woman can sit anywhere she wants; there are laws specifically to protect and enhance the woman's life where she is repeatedly confronted by the harshness of the male presence. Children can't sit alone with an adult man in an airplane flight, bathrooms are "woman exclusive", and a woman can cut in line with no problems and any justified verbal retaliation coming from a man is frowned upon.

I know history, I understand why this is so. But why am I being punished and stereotyped for the wrongdoing of a few? Yes, a few. Stating that "all men are alike" implies that you know, intimately, a large enough random sample of the male population, at least a 20%. Do you want to do the math? When one instrument is de-tuned, the whole orchestra sounds bad, but it doesn't mean all of them are lousy musicians.

I understand, as I've stated, the grounds for the feminist movement. However, their main goal of empowering women by these methods does not only feels petty but is counterproductive. A strong woman (or person for that matter) would scoff at the fact of "being protected", as it entails a privilege over other people that is unjust and degrades their dignity as a human being. We are all equally important in society and the law should treat us that way; no extra credit should be given just for having a vagina or a penis.

Our physiologies are different but our roles are potentially the same. When a child is born, everybody involved goes through it, some physically, others psychologically, anothers economically. Each challenge has its virtues and shouldn't be dismissed as inferior. The same goes for raising a child, household and workplace roles, and all their moral and ethical implications. These aren't sex-specific, why do they feel that way everywhere I go?

Tell you what, I'll show you mine if you show me yours. I enjoy the sight of any of the possibilities, I hope you do too.

EDIT (2010-07-20): From reader comments and various re-readings, I've noticed that this post was published without the care of explaining myself that I like to have in my posts. I apologize. For amends, I present to you a reply I made to one of my favorite readers in the comment section that I think clarifies this post a bit more:

My intent here is to point out how society is beginning to lean on a legal overprotection of women by denigrating the social status of men, instead of making clear the sexual equality under the current law.

To do this, arguments of historical sexual deviance are thrown. In this is what I meant by "few", which they are in the bigger scope, as few men are convicted of rape compared to the total male population. Keyword being "convicted", as far more women are found innocent in rape crimes than men and it isn't considered discrimination, while it clearly is.

If a job isn't given to a woman, sexism is always suspected and even sometimes used as leverage. If a man even hints at touching a woman, charges can easily proceed. In all the examples I've mentioned (in the post and this comment), turn the roles around and ponder about the different outcome. It's a social/cultural thing (I'm not pinpointing women per se) and its acceptance was driven by misguided guilt, misplaced blame, and ignorant pride.

As for misogyny, if I were a woman, I would hesitate bringing it up, since "more than a few" are guilty of misandry. Discrimination goes both ways, and it only worsens with more acts of discrimination.

Rhythm, Rhyme, and Reason

2010-04-23T09:32:00.003+01:00

The night filled the moment as I pondered when and how was I going to sleep.

The way they moved inside me, penetrating the intestines of my discontent, breached the wall that I myself had built. I am no one, this is no one, and, by the time this is finished, none of you will be there anymore. Just me and this.

To think, to wonder, thing of ponder. Words used for melodramatic obsolete purposes. I can't remember a time when doing this brought pleasure. And I can't remember why I even began to do this. Exercise maybe. To show off possibly. Or maybe just to confirm that I can still do it. Unorganized, thoughtless, without technique... like always.

This writing, like my life, was supposed to be a poem, but it grew into prose. And I miss it so; the connection between rhythm, rhyme, and reason. A true challenge, even more so for the fact that it shouldn't feel like one. If so, the lines suffer from unwarranted tension; although, sometimes they feed from it. Of the ones I've pulled off, some certainly did, but I didn't begrudge. They were my children: one of the few things in my past life that were truly genuine. Honesty swept from my fingers, while I struggled to not think, to not feel, to just write. Like now.

I've tried to revive it, but it is of no use. Poetry in verse is a melancholic blind spot, easily drawn into a corny soap opera, in which mediocrity oozes, sucking the life out of the paper. It ends up lacking character, a definition... it ends up lacking balls:

Dirty sweat and muscles tightening.
I tear the skin off her.
The meat, the sour, the scream,
all steer my strength to sunder.

But it's useless, as those four lines equate a lifetime of exasperation with my own self. Those lines were tiresome, heartening, and just plain vicious, in both message and technique. They do no favor in disguising the writer's inner struggle between wanting to be a good poet and wanting to be an honest writer. It may have balls, but the sweetness underneath was kept aside, forced into submission, all for the sake of saving an ego-driven face:

The weak pull from you,
steal your tears,
but you keep on,
drowning in your own sweat.
Blast through the traps with no fear,
Just don't forget,
those lines hooked and set
were pulled by your own self, dear.
But, no worries, no shroud.
Step in, forget the cloud.
Quivering in expectation,
I await your blunder.
A slip, a fall, a stumbler.
The oh sweet sound
of another one tripping in.
Go on, another round,
why maybe, who knows?
Lucky you might go again.

It's near, but not for long, like it's saying goodbye, but I don't want to wave back. It can hold so much meaning, the simplicity in its own can be enough to explain whole essays, yet I've never learned how to grasp it adequately. Like a magic sword with no owner, a threefold stool that doesn't seem to hold any weight, or a symbol that only God understands: it's powerful but untamable. Character, beauty, and meaning; rhythm, rhyme, and reason...

My fingertips are growing numb
as the sentiment of a known past is yonder.
Canned in the outer wrapping
it peels off, steadily,
to a brisk powder.
I wait, hastily, asleep
in a dream that seems no different in splendor.
Stopped, I awake absent of it,
but feeling just the same.
It has flown away from me,
as if it were never mine.
My fingertips feel warm,
they dance now to a different time.
Different style,
but same thoughts,
same grunts.
It slips, "let go."
Today's different,
"I'm through.
You don't need me anymore,
you haven't since long ago."

A memory of solitude, of warmth in time of cold, teachings of how to hold on while letting go. Irony, it seems, it's immune to style, and letting go seems as appropriate as ever. The cloud is still there, and, even though I'm left with only one tool to walk through it, it is the one I forged. With it, I'll ride through the myst that is called life, and breath it through the new lungs I've been using all along.

Verse, I hardly knew ye, and I hardly think that will be a problem.

Pr0n

2010-04-22T02:36:00.003+01:00

I've recently written an article about Steve Jobs' position on pornography in the iPhone (to summarize: He doesn't like it). And while writing it, I've come to realize the suicide subject which is pornography, wielding its powers of dividingness.

If you talk bad about it, you get people like me championing it as a celebration of freedom of speech, with billboards filled with timetables showing how it has helped legitimize today's current technology.

If you talk good about it, you get extreme conservatists and fundamentalist telling us how it's immoral, detrimental to society's backbone, and can even cause earthquakes.

Of the handful of readers of this blog, I'm sure that by now you know I like to comprehend the many sides of an argument, but in this regard I can't help see the conservative side with a hint of condescension. Really? People fucking is wrong? How is it that practicing my voyeuristic side by seeing a video of a consenting couple doing it is immoral? In what page of the Moral Guidelines Book does it say that I'm hurting somebody (even myself) by doing so?

One famous argument is that "it degrades women". To that I say: it depends on what type of porn your watching (pause for laughter). Seriously, though, nowadays the Pornographic Industry (that's right, it's an industry) is one of the few economic sectors in which the woman can be expected to be paid more than the man (like I said, depends on the type of pr0n); even 100% more.

Another bogus argument is that of "pornography induces perversion"; it doesn't, it really really doesn't. However, that misconception is very dangerous, prone to heritage through the ages, fostering stigmas against any type of sexuality (even the "normal" one), and making youths either believe it's wrong to have a boner or experiment outside of a safe environment.

When I preach to myself about this, I always hear my other voices answer back "but what about the children?" You mean, the thousands of kids that see on National Geographic or the Discovery Channel two chimps doing the nasty and finding out the hard way where the little bugger actually came from? Easy: you say to the wide-eyed mucus factory, "that's pornography, some people like to see it because it causes them pleasure, but to some it's distasteful, so don't be showing it to everybody". This was exactly what my dad told me when I was five, a person that to this day doesn't like pornography, but has never ordered me to stop seeing it.

To put it another way: don't bullshit your kids, porn is everywhere and they will eventually find out about it. I find it cruel that some people try to deny children the freedom of finding out for themselves if they like it or not. Like horror films or chick flicks: some like it, some don't, based purely on taste, not perversion.

And this is the most horrifying stature of this whole ordeal: pornography's reputation as a "sin" or "immoral" can be directly traced to how fundamentalistic-conservative persons believe that the pure act of sex is derived from evil. That act that not only grants us the ability of procreation, but the way we can manifest our love for one another, providing a step closer to God in every shared orgasm, is defined as "bad" for an unknown stupid reason. And everything related to it (like pornography) is likewise wrong.

If only people would realize that rain isn't God's tears, but is God cumming over all of us (pause for gasps). Thunder is his orgasmic grunt, while he watches millions upon millions of us (animals, plants, you name it) doing every type of weird shit he has grant us the imagination to do. Yes, you're reading right: God likes pornography. We are his pornography. Smile for the camera!

And of all the type of pornography he gets to watch, I think he likes the one about us, mankind, the best. Why do you think we are the only ones to wear clothes in this planet? He likes to watch us strip before we get down and dirty.

(Untitled)

2010-04-02T07:21:00.000+01:00

The rage in pudding, the guacamole of sorrow, and the solidarity in masturbation. I grew up with these afflictions and virtues, and I feel their disconnection. A disconnection I've long forgotten.

It's been a while, and, such a short time has passed, I don't feel the change anymore. I could say that the change has been the only constant, and, thus, I've grown accustomed to it such that I don't feel it anymore. Like a burning sun after the fifth hour: the burn is there, but somehow it isn't anymore, as the skin absorbs it, and you become the burn.

Or I could say that there isn't a change, and that I've peaked to whatever being my sub-conscious has decided to flourish into. This alternative appears as the most satisfying, but you and I know this isn't the case. I've seen myself after all these years, and I know the incessant change has only altered the way I look at the world, but not who I am, indicating that the change hasn't even begun. This may seem as a paradox, as I still don't know who I am, but, alas, I feel the same. If symbolic logic has taught me anything, is that you don't need to know the value of something to know that it hasn't changed, just the differential from one point to another.

This year, the differential seems null. The same pudding, the same guacamole, the same solidarity. And I ache for some change, some improvement, some sort of evidence that here lies a less egotistic being that acts more upon his written words. The struggle has been evident, however, and the fire and the sun and the moon have witnessed it. Have they? Darn, I'm not sure. Cold blood serving beside a table of witchcraft still lingers; the scratches still appear, and the weary stillness of my stare towards the sky still account for it. That's my struggle, and it's still there... is it?

Maybe I've been looking at this all wrong. Maybe the wall that I'm pushing has been altering itself. Maybe that's the change that's been happening: I'm the same, but the struggle is different, and my old tactics aren't working against this new enemy. New bullets need to be fired towards new targets. New abilities need to be learned. New ways of changing, new alternations for a new oblivion.

... Thus, I need to reboot. I need to start over. Clean slate, empty mind, a bowl and nothing more. And then, reabsorb, refill, look at things anew, and re-comprehend their meaning.

I'm too full, too big, too fat with self-contradicting truths: I need to find myself amidst these weeds of ego-filling pseudo-knowledge. Throw myself from a hill, let myself loose pieces of myself and look at me downstream. Symbolic logic has done all it can, now its time to open up the variable and find out what's in there. The fact of the matter is I've been teasing myself of what lies inside, trying to remember from pieces of memory of what's locked in there. In reality I honestly can't remember what I've been repressing all these years, only the legend-like remembrance of it being "bad".

All this bullshit that I've grown fat from has served as the wall of a prison of myself... My God, that's the same wall I've been fighting! The outer has turned inner, and I've been too scared to look at the other side of the wall. The change has occurred, but in a part I haven't been looking at. Yes, I've been definitely looking at this all wrong.

It's time then... the pudding, the guacamole, and the solidarity are going to see themselves in the mirror. Strangely, a feeling of familiarity is present, as if I've done this before. Yet, as whenever uncertainty points to a misty road ahead, I can't help feel frightened of where I'll end up, of what lies buried beneath my fattening presumptuousness and delusions of grandeur.

Logic implies that I should be frightened of finding a deep sense of evil, but such definition actually calms me. "Evil" is misunderstood, and by comprehending it, it can be salvaged. Another possibility is that "ego" winds up being my fuel, but that just would mean that the locked up enemy was the one that I've been battling all along: the misty road would end up where I am right now. No, what I'm frightened of the most is that I find nothing there: I don't know what to do with that. What would that mean? How would I go about after that?

...

I'm grinning right now, because I realized that I've been so foolish. Of course I know what to do with that: fill it up, exactly as I was preparing to do a couple of paragraphs ago. The mean becomes the end. By preparing to tear down the wall, I would be tearing down the wall. I get it now.

While staring at the keyboard, I can't feel anything, and for the first time I'm actually content with that. That's why my sub-conscious chose "Nihil" as the title for my blog and my electronic children. It was right there all along. I am nothing, and I haven't done anything about it since ever. But, should I? There's a part of me that wants to enjoy this as it is, and another that wants to begin filling it up... I'm grinning again:

Fuck it: I'll do both. It's a misty road after all, I haven't travelled it yet, why not embrace its uncertainty? Why define what can and can't be done so early?

It's time to look at things with wonder again, to relearn things I supposedly know, to fuck up where I've fucked up before, and to let myself enjoy it this time around.

I am nothing and nothing am I
~><~

I LIKE DILDOS, AND AM PROUD OF IT!

2010-03-12T20:54:00.003Z

Now that I got your attention, lest talk about Privacy.

I have a Facebook page, I have a Twitter page, I have a blog with a sidebar that has all my other "Internet profile" stuff. My name is Caleb Rascon, and if you google me, you'll probably know all you need to know about me.

It has come as a knuckle in the face to many thirty-something-year-old users the fact that they can know more about their children through their Facebook statuses then knocking on their door and talking about the birds and the bees. Also, that same knuckle has given a black eye to many teenagers bragging about their crazy nights and having their mothers and teachers know about it. And the knuckle has come full circle to me, as these groups of people have become very vocal about it and I just don't get what the problem is.

I keep reading about them "being forced into" a situation in which everybody will know things about them that they didn't want disclosed, and that "privacy is a right that is being violated". However, I always come back to "Were you really forced into it? Or did you just click without reading?" and "If you didn't want somebody else to know about your dildo fascination, why did you put it in your Facebook page?"

A borderline conspiracy theory is being woven: the government is tapping into your Twitter feed to know about your behavior and... well, that's where I get stumped. Why is it considered so gruesome the fact that people can know about my behavior? It's not like I don't tell people about it, and they tell their friends, and so forth.

I read the following in the comment section of an article about privacy:

If you don't mind being Facebook friends with Obama, consider what happens when future President George Z. Bush gets to read every anti-conservative comment that is on your wall. Be afraid.

Afraid of what? Of the government knowing I don't support them? I don't. If they knew about it and forced me into a van, I won't be thinking "I shouldn't have put that anti-government piece in my blog". It would be more in the lines of "This government is crap!", and I'll be yelling it through the van windows.

If people are concerned of what other people might do or think if they knew what they do or think regarding controversial topics, they're wusses that shouldn't be posting it in the web in the first place. Yeah, you read right, wusses.

Here is a small sample of my "dirty laundry". Enjoy:

I watch porn (sometimes gay, depends on my mood).
I proud myself of being woman-like. I even get mood swings in a monthly basis.
I want consistency in legalizing drugs: either all should be illegal, or all legal. It's stupid that alcohol is legal and pot isn't, while both are hazardous in the hands of a doctor during surgery.
If I ever got the chance, I may hesitate saying no to water-boarding George W. Bush.
When people tell me that God spoke to them or that God wants them to do something, I usually give them the number of a psychologist.
Legalizing gay marriage is an idea as stupid as legalizing heterosexual marriage, and I think we should be focusing on other things. If two persons (of any sex) want to get married because they love each other, why get the government involved?
I like Belanova.
[I'm putting an extra one here just to give all my metalhead friends time to soak in that last one]
When people say "this tastes like dick", I always answer "tastes good, doesn't it?"
If a slutty-dressed girl is allowed to slap me in the face when I look at her cleavage, I should be able to slap her in the face if I dress slutty and she keeps staring at my junk, even more so if she laughs after.
If blacks "are allowed" to say nigger to each other without care, they have reduced the meaning of the word irrelevant of its history. Having it as an "insider word" only provokes confusion and awkwardness when a person from another ethnicity wants to carry out a conversation with them. Tell you what, they can call me beaner, if I can call them nigger.
Ethnic pride and patriotism are an insane state of mind when used to put down another ethnicity or country; they're based on the accomplishments of people that aren't alive anymore. "You enslaved me," or "You would be speaking German if it wasn't for us" are idiotic: you weren't even alive when that happened?!
I find endearing the relationship between persons and their dildoes. It really does show how shared memories between two entities is what really makes a friendship grow. This goes also for toilets.

There. If a future employer googles my name and finds all these things about me, and denies me a job because of it, then I don't want to work for that employer. He's a douche that thinks gay porn is relevant in my work.

There are legitimate reasons for the right to privacy, and most are life-preserving and preventive of identity theft. I will only disclose my home address, my credit card numbers, my current geographical position, etc. to a very exclusive group of people. And Facebook, Twitter, and Google give you the option to do just that, or even to not disclose any information at all. I don't know where this "forced me into it" deal we are so worried about came from (read before you click, damn it!). Oh, and of course, there's always the option of not posting it.

But if you don't want people to know about you because of "what will they think of me?" then you're a wuss. A flat out coward that has gone through life showing different masks to different groups of people, to make everybody like you. Unfortunately for you, the Internet has come, and what you say in one site is transferred to another, with which people get to know you better. And you're scared of that, of somebody not liking something about you. Well, guess what? That's why we're here: to dislike, to bitch about things that we don't like. However, while talking about it, we get to know you, the real you. And based on that, we decide if we still don't like you.

It can be so liberating, though: no more hidden curtains, no more masks. The people that stick with you do so because of the real you, and you stick with them because of the real them. It becomes real, more so than it has ever been. Why would you opt out of that? Privacy is important, but using it as a shield for hiding a part of you that you feel ashamed of is just wasteful, and counterproductive of what the Internet can do for you. There's a whole world out there of people with your same afflictions, in which they congregate in forums to talk and chat openly about those afflictions. Where you can feel connected to people that truly see the person that you are: a weirdo, just like everybody else there. If your mom, teacher, and/or employer doesn't like what they find about you, google their names and point out how they are weirdoes too.

Being "normal" is for wusses. Embrace your weirdness, be the person that you are, and let the Internet help you be that person in an international level. Go to forums around the web, and type with all caps "I LIKE DILDOS, AND AM PROUD OF IT!" You'll see that it will make you feel much better, and get you a lot of interesting friends.

Perspective

2010-02-25T21:15:00.001Z

I was talking to my office-mate about her plans regarding going abroad for some time to think things through. She admitted to being scared of the prospect of being somewhere unfamiliar. I said that it was normal to be scared, but that there was a worthwhile reward of overcoming it: to gain perspective. While saying that, it dawned on me the weird mechanism the human psyche has on acquiring perspective: it needs to compare its current state to another to know what both states mean.

From understanding our social behavior, to taking for granted what we have (material and not), all the way to the manner in which our body goes about its day-to-day routines: everything is based on comparison.

You can't know what it is to be happy until you have been sad.
You can't really measure how rich is somebody until you compare their earning to others'.
You can't know the direction and the distance of someone calling at you until, respectively, the sound and light has hit both your ears and both your eyes.

Perspective is such a complex but ultimately elegant solution to our social standing. Once you gain it, not only does it grant you a better understanding of your current state, but also of others'. It is in that regard that you can reach a better conclusion of "both" our current states. And, even though you won't be able to understand every type of state there is (monetary and temporal limits), the process is filled with a humane vive that seems... right.

In addition, and most importantly, if you have the vision to pass that perspective onto others, it gives me hope that one day we, as a human race, will be able to proceed onwards with a universal perspective. A perspective that will be able to really account for every living and non-living entity out there, and provide a sound and viable argument to why and why not do or say something.

The only way to do it, though, is to compare; and to compare you must comprehend; and to comprehend, you need to reach out; and to reach out, you need to get out there. And in that process (while planning to pass on the acquired perspective), I believe, lies the true nature of our existence: to experience, to get to know, and build on the universal knowledge. Yes, I'm basically stating that the meaning of life is to live, which seems boringly benign, but, if you pass on your knowledge, that meaning becomes a purpose. That's why, I believe, we procreate and have schools (even though our animal counterparts don't share that sentiment as formally as we do). The meaning becomes a purpose and:

"That the powerful play [that is life] goes on, and you will contribute a verse."
Walt Whitman

Although your contribution may not be overwhelming, it will be something. A grain of sand in the beach that is humanity's shared consciousness:

"Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it."
Mahatma Gandhi

Pure elegancy; I'm really glad now I've gone through everything that I have. It makes sense, I'm where I want to be, I'm happy here, and the only way I could really cherish this moment is by having something else to compare it to. I get it now... thank you, Teacher. I'll pass this on to others.

Land of Dichotomies

2009-12-27T18:44:00.003Z

FOREWORD: These thoughts are from a visit to Cairo, Giza, Alexandria and Saqqara. The author is well aware that defining the whole of Egypt based on only those four localities is cause for an unfair, poorly-based generalization. The reader is asked to consider the term "Egypt" to be applied only as if it were the aforementioned localities. The reader is also encouraged to point out (in the comments section) any inaccuracy that (s)he feels needs to be addressed.

At 4 am everything looks surreal. Cairo is no exception. We chose a hotel near the pyramids because it felt appropriate, but that meant that we needed to cross all Cairo and Giza to get to it from the airport; the cab took an hour, with little traffic. It was a blessing in disguise though, as that first hour set the tone for the whole trip. It started out with the sight of dirty streets and unkept temples, and finished out with a pristine hotel with a friendly staff and a perfect room.

Egypt is a land of dichotomies. Its outer shell may be rough and unwelcoming, but inside lies a gem that is eternally beautiful. Everything from the women, that are flirtatious even though they dress very conservatively, to their social culture, which is very religious but tolerant of others, all the way to the land itself, with Cairo being the very definition of an oasis with tropical fruits being grown in the middle of a dessert (by the way, the fruit juices, which are the drink of choice, are more like smoothies). I found Christian cemeteries beside Muslim ones, sandy dunes beside watery palm trees, and a palace beside a ghetto. Christmas is celebrated alongside Ramadan, and traffic in the streets is utter chaos but nobody seems to mind.

Emotions are bared on the flesh and anger is rampant; but Egyptians are a family. They pray together, joke together, and curse each other within literally seconds of a first meeting. They trust. They're a family. And if you're able to handle it, and show sensibility for their ways, they're quick to welcome you to it.

Their cities are not kept up to the standards that we as Mexicans are accustomed. Their museums and their streets are seemingly dirty. Most of Cairo and Alexandria seem like a rundown part of any Mexican city. But, considering that they are surrounded by sand, they're in fact pretty clean. Being at peace with that, you are given a treat when you actually step inside any house, which are mini temples focused on hospitality and warmth and, well, cleanliness.

Egyptians are known for their bargaining skill, instigated by suspicion of abusive prices, but when both parties settle on a deal, no receipt is given, a handshake is enough. Commerce is an art form, and even though we knew our driver directed us to shopping centers he had contact with and that he was being paid to do so, the products sold there were of high quality with good prices. In addition, in every one of them we were treated with the utmost respect and hospitality, giving us an explanation of their product beforehand. It is important to state that this was always done in our native tongue, which my mom greatly appreciated as she doesn't speak English. Maybe this was a ploy in their sale pitch, but it was very entertaining and played well in our visit.

I've read somewhere that most of the touristic part of Egypt is filled with con artists, scamming money out of tourists. We were perfect bait for this, as the trip was improvised and little research was done beforehand. So, if we were scammed, I didn't notice. At every step we wound up pretty happy with our acquisitions and their quality (my mom and me are very picky when it comes to shopping), and every price was negotiated (my mom is pretty good at that). Obviously, Mohammed and Ashref (both our drivers) and their local friends wound up happy as well. And there lies the ultimate dichotomy.

Egypt is ripe for misunderstanding. Horror stories abound of how foreigners are treated as gold pots. The fact of the matter is that, well, I am a gold pot, and the modus operandi is a back-and-forth of fixing prices. In Egypt, you are the money that you carry, and there's no disrespect intended in that; they're merchants, they want to make a deal, because that is what will make both parties happy.

Getting your head around that lets you see that in that process, you are being welcomed into the country, into the family, and that you are one of them, experiencing the real Egypt. It may sound too convenient, and that feeling may only be part of a sentiment-based process to get you to buy something, but, isn't that suspicion too paranoic? And even it it's true, why is it wrong? Considering me part of their family first, and a customer second, is a dream in other parts of the world. I know their names, I shook their hands, and I saw an honest smile while leaving their store every time. I actually felt good about shopping their products, where else does that happen? Isn't that worth the 5% off the bargain price?

Those horrors stories are from people that didn't get that, and felt scammed; of people who always look for a cheaper and cheaper fixed price to prevent feeling scammed. Unfortunately, in doing so, they become the scammer.

Me and them, that's the ultimate dichotomy; the foreigners and the locals. In Egypt, however, such a dichotomy does have a chance to coincide, if only the latter extends a hand of understanding to the former, and the former keeps doing what he has been doing for the last couple of millennia.

Away

2009-12-07T08:15:00.002Z

The word "away" sounds like such as a smooth, calm word. "Ah waayy", like a wave humming, mesmerized by its own beauty. Its connotation, however, is very passive aggressive. It implies absence of something, not from existence though, just from where it belongs. Surprisingly, and, ironically, it's full of hope: that 'something' is in fact somewhere, it just isn't where it is supposed to.

In fact, you could say that, all in all, the word "away" is a largely positive sentiment. If something is "away", it belongs somewhere, and in that "somewhere" its absence is being noticed, usually by the entity that is saying the word. "Being away" is beautifully bittersweet; there's hope in there of not only someday coming "back", but of having a place to come back to.

Lately, "being away" is mostly what I've been feeling, but I don't know from where anymore. I used to say it was from my hometown, but I'm not sure that it is still my home. In fact, the whole concept of "home" seems like just a vague pleasant memory. Now, it feels more like a base station, where I report to periodically of my apparently unending endeavors. It is this that seems the most sad, of being away, but without its sweet side.

I used to crave this feeling, of being a free vessel; no map, no direction, just wonders and notes. But I am a man of discord and contradiction, as, I suppose, most humans are. Everything comes with two slates, it seems, and for some reason, I haven't been able to let myself see the bitter one in many of them. And, I suppose, this is probably the reason of my recent slight agoraphobic behavior. I want my space, my land, my indestructible castle. Yes, I want to feel the sensation of home again, but I know it comes with a bitter side to it. No more free vessel, with a map and direction, always; coincidentally, that has always been my modus operandi. I wonder if, without knowing, I've been trying to pursue a weird combination of both? To be at home, wherever I may be. I've had plenty of practice, that's for sure, but this "away" feeling is new. Maybe this is me trying to settle down; what a weird way to do it... and I wouldn't have done it differently.

If that's the case, then, like when in love, I'll just have to wait and keep my eyes open. Maybe there is a place I am coming back to, it just hasn't presented itself yet.

Title

2009-10-09T17:04:00.006+01:00

My examiner told me to come in the room, the verdict of my PhD oral examination was up. I remember clearly how I entered that room as a puny student who felt the exam as the worst colonoscopy ever, with a clear indication of a non-pass. "We've decided to grant you the award, with some minor corrections of course," he said with a smile on his face.

I froze. The examiner, befuddled, grabbed my hand to shake it, "You're a Doctor, son. You seem disappointed." And I was. I stepped out of that room, and one of my professors, who I saw as a superior in every single way (and still do), asked how it went. When I told him, he stretched his hands in what he saw to be a level-playing field. But it isn't.

Now, everybody is calling me "Doctor", as if my knowledge in the field has suddenly sky-rocketed. It hasn't. I'm still that puny student with a bleeding anus. Only now, I can legally put a title before my name.

The concept of titles has always eluded me. It seems as the precursor of a black and white world where I am this and you are that, and there's nothing in between.

I am a heterosexual, and you are a homosexual.
I am a capitalist, you are a communist.
I am a Professor, you are a student.
I am a christian, you are a muslim.
I am right, you are wrong.

I know it's useful in certain situations: you are a man that needs a liver transplant, and your blood is type A+. Period.

But it's limiting in all other cases. My identity is an array of shades of grey, which is in fact the reason of the infinity of possibilities that makes up my personality. This is me, and there's no one like me.

I'm very against the involvement of government in my day-to-day life (taxes, laws, the democratic process), but I believe that it must also ensure some sort of well-being to its citizens (national security, health care options).
I prefer women, but if the right guy came along, I would consider him as a life partner.
I enjoy watching pornography (which many consider misogynistic), and, what from female friends have told me, I'm way too in touch with my feminine side.
I'm very anti-religion, but I've seen the good it can do in people.
Some consider me an expert in some fields, but I don't enjoy reading about them.

Is there a title for that?

It always seems to be a personality that has been forced-upon when using a title. And, unfortunately, that personality usually implies prejudice upon other titled people. But, if you took the title away from something and really look at it, is it really the same thing as the title it was given?

I've heard many christians say that the Bible says that homosexuals are going to Hell, but they have nothing against their homosexual friends.
I've known of many capitalists denouncing communism (equating it to fascism and nazism), but want their government to provide all the solutions to their problems like Healthcare and Education.
Everybody hates that person called "boss", but wishes to be one.
The main argument of the proponents of making gay marriage illegal was that the word "marriage" applied only between a man and a woman. Most if not all of them didn't have any problems of providing the same rights to gay couples as if they were married, just didn't want to call them "married". The more surprising thing was that gays wanted to be called "married"; it was their right, apparently.
The Health Care reform currently in everybody's mind in the USA was delayed because the Democratic Party wanted to spend time in rebranding it to something else that wasn't called a "Public Option". It sounded like it came from Canada, and who wants that?
Israeli officials wanted to change the lay-man title of the "Swine Flu", because it wasn't kosher, to "Mexican Flu".

It's as if the problem is not the root issue of a cause, but the way the problem is called. Even the branding of "bad words" as taboo, when looked up closely, seems completely stupid.

As always, Georgy puts it best:

I think the whole reason we're encouraged in this country to think of ourselves as "black and white" (instead of "pink and brown," which is what we are) is that black and white are complete opposites that cannot be reconciled. Black and white can never come together. Pink and brown, on the other hand, might just stand a chance of being blended, might just come together.

If we took the time to go beyond the title, into the actual nitty gritty of our selves, we would be surprised that we are closer to each other than we thought. That the rounding errors of the black and white in this world are actually quite big, and that, even though we are all different, we are also pretty similar.

Angel

2009-09-23T20:19:00.002+01:00

Light shined on his guitar while being accompanied by the raging horde that jumped in sync with the throb of his screeching solo. Anybody in that audience felt it was too long since the last time they saw him, and after the concert, everybody felt as if he had always been there. The stadium was full, and even the persons in the bleachers could feel the strength of the melodies conveyed by his fingers.

On stage, he hid well the feeling of a diluted performance. His bandmates were waiting for his usual abrupt ending: the unfinished solo, the storming off the stage, and the clapping they've grown to expect out of it. Behind the stage, they would endure two full hours of schoolyard tactics of ice treatment and evil glares of apathy. The night would have undoubtedly end with them trying to figure out what made him angry again, and apologising for it regardless if it was their fault or not. He'd look back at them with his usual condescending stare (which is the closest thing to redemption he can communicate), and they'd patch things up until the next gig.

This ritual had been going on for ten years, and the diluted feeling had been incorporated into his stage performance. The people were unaware of this: the standard of which they'd judged a performance had degraded so much, that anybody with a mediocre feel for the guitar could impress them. The bandmates wouldn't stop indulging him, as he was their only revenue stream. And he'd continue on, because, well, who wouldn't?

Every interviewer who dared ask him why did he always ended his performances so abruptly was rewarded with a smack in the face, and a ban of future face-time. His interviews brought ratings, and, thus, such question was then forgotten from all media. That resulted in that his abrupt endings were now his staple and audiences began brushing it off as only part of the show.

In this night, however, something was different. His bandmates noticed instantly. His stare was wide-eyed, as the one of an 8-year-old right before the first big drop of a roller coaster ride. He stepped back, seemingly frightened of the audience. He interrupted his solo, and he flaunted his guitar to the floor. He gasped for air, while his eyes begin tearing up. He was crying. His bandmates did what anyone would do in such a situation: they stopped playing.

He dropped to his knees, sobbing, and without no microphone, nobody could hear what later reports guessed as being a heartfelt apology. His bandmates turned to each other for symptoms of sanity, but none could concur. He stood up, and grabbed his guitar. Shaking, he struck a soft chord. And with tearful closed eyes, he begin playing what would later be dubbed as his "Gentle Cry".

He didn't ended it abruptly that night. He finished the setlist that had never been finished before, did two encores, and waved goodbye.

"Mellow, weird, but, hell, it's him, so it was good", an audience member said in an interview.

"Wow, he actually finished a set. I'm honoured!", a long-time listener said to his wife.

"I came here for kick ass solos, not winy-ass shit like that. Whatever, I hope he doesn't cry when he comes back, ruined it for me. The bassist was little off too, he should be replaced", a fan was heard saying after the show.

"Are you crazy? Best solo ever!", another fan screamed.

"I was kinda freaked out by the whole thing. I've listened to all of his records, and I haven't heard that solo before. Maybe it was one of his B Sides. The crying was too much I think", a radio host described it afterwards.

In an interview 30 years later, some old bandmates of his were asked, "What happened backstage after that show?" They responded, "We went back, and I asked him. He said something about a smell not being there anymore, and that he used to hate them before because they always looked the same, that they were indistinguishable."

"Yeah, indistinguishable. I never heard him talk like that before", another bandmate complemented. "He continued talking about how it used to be disgusting for him, that he couldn't bare looking at them for more than an hour. But that night, he said, he realised that he had it all wrong. That 'the smell went away' and that 'he saw them for what they really were'. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about."

After the tour was over, he financed what he called "The Never-Ending Sky Tour"; the title was not misleading. He didn't stop touring. Ever.

On his tombstone, the following was carved:

Each of you commands a single voice, bears a single face. When you're together, however, your faces blend with each other, and your chants become a prominent, beautiful whisper. A whisper from heaven that I can only hear through you. In this regard, each and every one of You is an angel, an indistinguishable messenger from God that accompanied me throughout my time in this planet. A better definition of angel does not exist.

To Michelu Terencius.

Using a Motorola L6 to Connect a MacBook Pro with 10.6 to the Internet by UK T-Mobile

2009-09-05T20:45:00.006+01:00

I wrote something similar to this some time ago, but it was with my old PowerBook and it was running Mac OS 10.4 (Tiger).

I never actually took the time to make my Motorola L6 work as a Bluetooth Modem in 10.5 (Leopard), but, now that I've finished upgrading to 10.6 (Snow Leopard), I decided to have a stab at it again. It took a while, but the result was very satisfactory.

The problem with my previous post is that T-Mobile has probably disabled the telephone number that the mobile should dial-up to. However, this came as a blessing in disguise. It never occurred to me that both the Motorola L6 and the T-Mobile's network in the UK are GPRS-capable, which is faster and cheaper than straight-up dial-up.

In any case, to use your Motorola L6 as a GPRS Bluetooth Modem in Snow Leopard, start the process of setting a Bluetooth Device, which is pretty straightforward.

In the step in which Snow Leopard automatically detects the mobile as a possible Bluetooth Modem (Mac OS 10.6 rocks!), input the following:

Vendor: Motorola
Model: GPRS (GSM/3G)
APN: general.t-mobile.uk
Account Name: user
Password: wap

We're not done. At the end of this process, open System Preferences and go to the Network preference pane. You should see another option in the list of internet devices called "Bluetooth DUN". When selected, to its right, input:

Telephone Number: *99#

Apparently the mobile takes this as an init-string to connect to the GPRS network. That's it, click on "Connect" and you should be on your way.

The speed is better than dial-up in my opinion, although it's been long since I used the Motorola L6 for that. In any case, it's good to know that I again can be connected to Internet anywhere I need.

New Song: Sun

2009-08-16T23:42:00.002+01:00

A short announcement:

There's a new song now. It's called name "Sun". You can download it here.

This is my vocal debut. Logic helped a lot fixing my flat notes, so, no, I can't really sing that well... yet.

Enjoy!

Happily Ever After

2009-08-03T16:57:00.002+01:00

The wedding was as beautiful as one could expect of a fairy tale. Her gown was as white as her skin, and the ballroom was filled with the biggest of banquets. Everybody looked up to her, and could only smile. "The dream of every young lady is now yours, my fair lady Snow," the former king whispered to her during the proceedings. She smiled, while her thoughts wandered of the future to be.

A peasant approached her. Humbly, he reached over her hand and kissed it, "Our hopes are with you, our gracious queen." The room turned dark, her eyes turned gazed, and her feet felt numb. A boulder was now at her shoulders, as the responsibility of her future kingdom weighted down on her. She realized that she didn't knew anything of politics, of diplomacy, and even less so of royal matters and etiquette. She stood up, and was about to flee off the floor, when a hand grabbed her arm, forcing her to sit down again. "My love, it is not polite to leave our guests unattended," said her prince, sitting down beside her.

He would not take his eyes off of her throughout the night. She felt being groped by his stare, as he rubbed the back of her neck. "Are you excited for tonight?", he sighed. "I... I don't know," she stumbled. She looked into his eyes, while the usual crystal beauty that emanated from them turned into red boiling anger. "You don't know? I rescued you from those seven monsters. I've enslaved them to prove my love for you. I've given you riches and power that no other woman before has garnered, and you don't know?!", he spoke in a low, irate voice.

"You've enslaved them? Why? They were protecting me!", she cried faintly. "They're tricksters! They had you imprisoned from your home. That bag of a queen kept them there for her own amusement. Why do you think she never killed them?", he replied. His gaze began moving down her body, "You're nervous, I get it. Don't worry. Once this moronic formality ends, and we formalise our marriage, you'll feel better, my luscious flower." His stare pierced her forehead, where her crown laid, "And tomorrow, we can start ruling this land like it should have when your mother was alive."

Snow glared into nothingness. She could see all the smiling faces, dancing in ignorance of her own ignorance. She looked back to her prince, grinning in his prompt take-over of power and lust. A familiar whisper came upon her ears, but now it made her cry powerless over her future, "The dream of every young lady is now yours, my fair lady Snow, and you shall live happily ever after."

Laconic Writing

2009-06-26T21:31:00.002+01:00

When revising my thesis and articles (which I promise I'll begin doing promptly), a constant observation made by my supervisor is that I say too little with too many words. At first I thought it was just a conflict of style, and, coming from the side of storytelling, I enjoyed reading my academic writings as they were, so I didn't do much about it.

However, I just presented my fourth, and hopefully last draft of my thesis, and the same observation has come back. Other people have expressed the same opinion about my work as well: "The idea is very interesting, it's just too long-winded."

I'm worried about my storytelling antics in the academic side. My intention is for the reader to understand my work, and, thus, I reiterate, while trying to tell a story, to make the topic more comprehensible. However, I've uncovered something hidden behind this excuse. Bare with me while I digress...

Spartans were revered for their militaristic style of life, which was based on three virtues: equality, military fitness and austerity. They lived in minimalist settings, and their sentiments were expressed in the bare minimum of words. In fact, they were famous for their Laconic wit, and many philosophers, including Socrates, rejected the popular idea of the dumb Spartan: "[...] if you talk to any ordinary Spartan, he seems to be stupid, but eventually, like some expert marksman, he shoots in some brief remark that proves you to be only a child."

When Philip II threaten Sparta of invasion is a good example of this. He stated "If I enter Laconia, I will level Sparta to the ground," to which the Spartans replied, "If." Another example is the beautiful comeback of Lycurgus, an important Spartan lawgiver, to a proposal to set up a democracy in Sparta: "Begin with your own family."

The more I've read about them, the more I've understood the beauty of austerity. Done properly, a bare minimum of words in a statement implies security, while being poetic. I envy them now, because I've realised that an important reason for the length of my writings is because of the use of vague statements like "I feel", "the majority of", "it is implied that", etc. that reek of insecurity.

I've talked to my supervisor about this, and it isn't really about the length of the text. In fact, oversimplification is dangerous, and there are topics that need lengthy explanations to be understood. What austerity is really about is making sure that every word in the text needs to be there: when the Samians went to ask the Spartans for their help, they did so with a long speech, to which the Spartans replied that they've forgotten the first half of the speech and "couldn't make nothing of the remainder". In a second hearing, the Samians came with just a bag and said "The bag wants flour." The Spartans answered that they didn't need to say "the bag", but still agreed to help.

I'll try my best from now on to not use "the bag", and texts will be long only when required. Just give me some slack once in a while; I'm a pompous ass and sometimes I want to show off.

It stopped.

2009-06-05T03:21:00.003+01:00

I've always wondered about the random possibilities that we are brought to in day-to-day situations. For example, even though I could have been in any kind of position while sleeping, and my eyes kept in a location that could vary in the order of thousands, they were stroke by a single piercing ray of light braking free of my window shades that morning.

That seemed to be the motto of my life: me being at specific places at what could only be regarded as "interesting" times. I'm not complaining; it kind of verified that I was where I was supposed to be at any given moment in time. Still, it was sometimes annoying to know that I was supposed to be doing something without knowing what it was.

I got out of the shower and clothed myself. I stared at the watch that indicated that I was on schedule to catch my bus. I'm probably boring you with my life's predictability, but I assure you, predictable is far from describing that day. For starters, the bus didn't arrive... at all.

I worked at the Beijing Hotel, and my house was a good 30-minute walk from there. I usually took the 25-minute bus ride to the hotel, thinking that I rather get up a little early and arrive rested to my work. I am at that age that a 30-minute walk seems doable but not as an everyday thing, except, of course, for that day.

The day seemed pleasant enough, and the streets weren't as crowded as they usually were, which I found appealing as I don't dwell much with other people. I took good vigilance of the time, and I was ahead of schedule. I kept my pace, just in case. Around a kilometre away of the hotel, I found a couple of bags in the sidewalk. Knowing I had time, I decided to be a good samaritan. One was a purse, and the other a bag of groceries. The purse had an ID inside of a woman that lived nearby. I looked at my watch and saw that I had five minutes to spare. I felt a chill of pride in knowing I was going to make someone's day at the beginning of mine.

I detoured into the residential streets and wondered a bit to find the address. I thought that during this time in the morning, I could go walk around the vicinity of where I thought the house would be, and just ask passer-byers for specifics, but nobody was out. Was today a holiday that I forgot about? Not a soul to be seen. I knocked on a random house, but no answer. It was troubling, as two cars were parked outside; someone was definitely inside. Shy neighbourhood, I supposed. I looked at my watch, and my little adventure had already taken the time that I had to spare. Being a good samaritan was good and all, but my job took precedent. However, in my way out of the neighbourhood, I stumbled upon the address.

I could've returned the bags later, when coming back from work. I could've left the bags under their door. Hell, I could've just kept the money, groceries, and sold the purse for petty cash. But I was there, in the moment I apparently needed to be, so I knocked. On the third knock, the door swayed open. The discovered scene was not for the faint of heart, and I suffer from heart-faintness. To save you from the description, I'll leave you with the thought of a rug that should have been light beige, now soaked of blood of three bodies laying beside each other. I wanted to scream, to cry, to fall to my knees of the horror that presented itself in front of me, but the only thing I could do was run.

I arrived back to the street where I have found the purses. I looked at my watch, and felt guilty of still caring of getting to work on time. I felt relief when I realised that the sprint from the blood-filled house actually shorten my tardiness by only just one minute. I felt even more guilty right after.

I still had the bags with me. Maybe it was guilt combined with the fact that no one was around, but a compelling sensation came upon me to see what more was inside the bags. I sat down. And started with the purse. Her name was Chi Jie, a mother of two, married to a Post-Doctoral Academic in Peking University, Wen Jie. His name sounded familiar. The groceries weren't even a day old: eggs, cereal, milk... cookies. They were going to have breakfast.

I started to cry.

The street started rumbling. Rusty metal screeching sounded off in the distance. Tanks, I thought. Wen Jie; the name sounded too familiar. I suddenly realised what was happening. The news reported some students protesting the last few days; they must've escalated. More people were going to get killed... like Wen Jie, his wife, Chi, and their two children.

The screeching sounded closer; they were coming this way. Of course they were, the street that I was on leads off directly to Tiananmen Square. I was there, like always, on a specific place at what could only be regarded as an "interesting" time. But, what could I do? I was only a person, and I've heard of people getting killed by just seeing those enormous, hideous things. But I was there, with those two bags.

I could see them. Slowly making their way. My mind went blank as my right foot stepped out of the curve, and my left foot proceeded accordingly.

I was there, and I was supposed to be there.

Without knowing, I was standing in the middle of the street, with the metal screeching in front of me. You killed them, I thought, and you're going to kill more, it might as well be me. I stood there, waiting for the end.

The tank was ten metres away from me. I shouted: "You killed them! Why? Go away!" I knew it was pointless, but what had a point in that moment? I was there, and that was the only thing that I could do. "Go ahead, then, crush me! Like you did to Wen Jie and his family! Continue your route of destruction and see where it leads. There will be more that will follow, more that'll put themselves in your way. You think you can crush all of them? You think you have the endurance to kill the whole world? You keep on going, and see how far you get. Come, keep on going, and see how far the fuck you get!"

The tank was a metre away from me and I was ready. I was there, and was doing what I was suppose to do. The predictability and situationalism of my life finally shined through to clarity. My whole life was made for this moment, and it was happening. I was happy as I stood there to receive my end.

Then, the tank stopped. A ton of scrap metal built for destruction of buildings, of armies, that could reduce me to a pile of guts and blood without as much as switching gears, stopped. An unswayable force of habitual murder, a heavy killing machine that uses blood for fuel, stopped. The drums of death rumbling the streets, the determined march of the self-proclaimed horseman of the apocalypse whose sole purpose is to crumble every peasant of insubordination, stopped.

I was there and the tank stopped.

Quotes and Acknowledgements in my Thesis

2009-04-29T21:38:00.003+01:00

I finally finished the first draft of my PhD thesis. I did one page with a couple quotes that seemed appropriate for the work:

We believe nut things because it is part of our little monkey brains to try desperately to make patterns. That is the genius of humans, the quality that lets us learn. Pattern recognition has moved us off the hostile savanna and into the much safer condominiums. When you see your cavemate die shortly after a snake bite, it is probably a good idea to avoid all snakes. Of course, this over-simplification also leads to racism, religion, and all kinds of magical thinking.
Penn Jillette: magician, actor, political commentarist, all-around nice guy.

You are me, and I am you, and you are listening to our song right this instant, but you don't know it. Whatever you think you're hearing isn't there right now, it was prefabricated and melted into your ear a long time ago... try to go beyond the frequencies, beyond the sound of your surroundings and listen to whatever is coming out.
You'll found out that I'm waiting for you on the other side, being you, being me, and our song, our real song, was playing all along.
Anonymous

The only place I can have fun is in the acknowledgements part. I am kind of proud of it.

Acknowledgements

First and foremost, I would like to thank my greatest teacher of all: God. I know that I am here and that I am able to write all of this for a reason. I will do my best in never forgetting what a great fortune I have had in just being here, and that it comes with a lesson and a responsibility. I hope I am doing the work you have planned me to do.

I would like to thank the Mexican National Council of Science and Technology (CONACYT). Without their grant, this PhD would not have been possible.

I would like to thank my supervisor, Prof. Barry Lennox, for putting in me the idea of shooting directly for a PhD and for creating an environment of humour around this whole ordeal. Whilst the sensation of doing something that would impress everybody was short-lived, those first few days of uncertainty that you pulled with me are ones that I will not ever forget. Whatever the reason of why you offered me this opportunity, may that have been my good looks or my impossible-to-ignore charm: thank you for believing in me, even if it only was for just a few moments. Oh, and I will hunt you down, wherever you are, for making me suffer; I will leave a tip though.

I would like to thank my friends and colleagues that I have met in this my home far away from home called Manchester. Specially Oskar and Marisa, who, even though have reduced me to a third wheel in our relationship, have blossomed into a partnership that will not be forgotten. Whatever happens with you two, do know that, throughout these last couple of years, your relationship has provided me with an impressively beautiful site to see, as it is when two friends fall in love with each other.

I would like to acknowledge Nihil and NihilBack, my two Apple laptops. NihilBack is a PowerBook G4 with a 17'' screen, 1.67 Ghz, 1 Gb RAM. Nihil is a MacBook Pro with a 17'' screen, 2.5 Ghz, 4 Gb RAM. I want to thank you for your essential support in this project, as, without it, all of my work, from the thought process, to the simulations, to the actual writing up, would not have been possible. Both of you have granted me the possibility to do whatever I want, to experiment on my thoughts, to write my ideas down, and to share them with the world. You are the bridge to my loved ones, and my wings to my endeavours. I know you are just pieces of hardware to anybody else, but to me, you are an extension of my being, and without you, it is hard to be me. Thank you.

I would like to thank my beloved, Maria del Carmen Valle Lira. Our relationship was born in a very odd way, but I would not have expected otherwise, as both of us are odd in our own beautifully weird world. You portray the symptoms of my shortcomings, and the celebration of my virtues. I have become a better man because of the mirror you hold up for me. Thank you and I love you.

Finally, my parents: Luis Antonio Rascon Mendoza and Virginia Estebane Ortega. They gave me my name, they gave me my life, and everything else in between. I pride myself in having words for everything, but they truly shut me up when it comes down to describing how much I love them and appreciate the efforts they have put into giving me the life I have now. They are the reason I did this; they are the reason I thrive to be better. Their pride for me is my main goal in life. As I have said many times before, the only thing I aspire for is that when they lay in their deathbed they would think, "I am proud of my son." Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Copyright

2009-04-26T15:23:00.004+01:00

MTV Video Example

YouTube Video Example

The Daily Show Video Example

If you're able to watch the videos inside those sites, you're in luck: you live in the US or your Internet is provided by an US-based company. If you're not, like me, you probably was welcomed by a notice that says that you are not allowed to watch the videos. Why is this so? Copyright.

It has been one of the topics most frequently talked about in the Technological section of the news these past few months, particularly because of the Pirate Bay trial that took place. I won't go into detail about the proceedings, but it has been an interesting ride.

I understand why an author/artist/inventor wants to protect what he or she has created, and not allow anybody else to take credit or make profit out of his or her creation. But, to what lengths? As an inventor, I want people to see and use my creation, and the more the better. I'll get feedback, and make my product better for people that aren't in my vicinity, making it applicable for an even greater amount of people. I thought that this was the ultimate goal of Copyright: by nominating the original creator and setting in stone who gets to decide what happens to the product, it is free to be shared among the users without fear of another person taking credit for others' work. How is it that it has turned into the complete opposite? Today, whenever I hear "copyright protected", the words "limited usage" come to mind, instead of "Oh, so that guy/gal did this?".

It is more than annoying, it borders at stupidity. I'm right now in the UK, and I can't see the YouTube video that I linked earlier. Ironically, the video is about a live performance of an UK band, People in Planes, but, because they signed with an US label, it can, by "enforcing copyright", not allow the video to show outside the US. Meaning that fans that live right around the corner from where they grew up can't see the band's videos.

~~(However, I did manage to get to see the video from somewhere else.)~~

Copyright is now being used as a limiting tool, instead of as a vehicle of sharing, which it can definitely be. Take the GPL licensing system, used in software development. Without the need of any lawyers or any copyright institutions, I can create a piece of software and license it to anybody that wants to use it, even to the point of providing my code to the user, and the credit of my work will be protected. The user gets this privilege, as well as that of sharing and even changing my code, with the obligation of passing on my name with it. If the user wishes so, I can incorporate his or her changes into the original code, and turn the project into a collaboration. And it works, the whole Open Source movement is based on it. So well in fact that the Internet wouldn't exist as it does today if it weren't for it. The majority of DNS servers, Web servers, and many of the more popular Website development tools are licensed using GPL.

However, I also understand that this is how I like to share my creations. Others would rather share them in different ways, such as the ones used by some music labels and movie studios. If an artist/inventor chooses that route, I can't do anything about it; it is their creation to protect in whatever means they feel necessary.

...

Still, that doesn't mean that I can't have an opinion about it:

I've had it with their completely moronic choices to "protect" the artist's work. They're dumb, counter-productive, and reek of greed. The fact of the matter is that copyright institutions are only protecting their bank accounts, not the artist's rights, which are reduced to poster children to be used as martyrs for the sake of the studio. It is a failing system that is only being kept alive by exploiting the artist's paranoia over their work being stolen. Screw the studios and their poor excuse of artistic intentions: if they keep overprotecting the artist's work, I won't spend my money on it. Simple as that.

EDIT: The People in Planes videos can't be viewed anymore in the link provided.

Email: Apple Tax

2009-04-12T01:51:00.004+01:00

I just hate it when people fudge numbers for their own purposes. I am going to be complete Mac fanboy on this one, I'm sorry. As a disclaimer, however, it's not that I dislike the Windows environment, many of my dear friends use it with very good results; if you like it, go for it. What I don't like is when people try to convince others by showing numbers that aren't trustworthy.

Subject: Apple Tax Redux
Date: 12 April 2009 01:55:45 BST
To: k@ndpta.com <- (yeah, that's his real e-mail address)

Dear Roger Kay,

I've read your paper titled "What Price Cool?" in which you describe your observations of what you call "Apple Tax" and describe a situation of a family projecting their costs in a 5-year term towards switching to the Mac platform. Interesting read, but I've encountered several issues with the document.

Assuming that the next instalment of the Windows operating system, System 7, will "close the gap" and be a step forward towards the infamous "cool" factor you describe (an assumption which many of us that have already used System 7 may not agree with), it seems to be contradicting the overall objective of your paper. Aren't you touting "cool", which is subject to a product's brand, to be unnecessary? IBM, considered to be THE computer brand when the first version of Windows launched, placed it at the hands of millions of users that already heard of the company in the Industry setting. Microsoft reached all of these users because of IBM's brand marketing, giving it the market share that it has now. I'm obligated to state that, to the contrary of what you may think, there's no "conspiracy theory" here.

For the normal consumer, at first, there was no other better alternative, IBM was it; others came and went, until the IBM clones entered into the picture. Because people didn't need to change much of their workflow when switching to IBM clones, companies, such as Compaq and HP, who offered cheaper alternatives thrived. However, acquiring a machine still needed an initial investment, and many consumers and specially businesses, who are not accustomed to and frankly dislike change, stayed with IBM and Windows.

This is where I found the situation of the theoretical family you've described in the paper a bit confusing. At first I understood that the head of the family was considering either upgrading the family's current hardware or switching to the Mac side with new equipment, which explains why no Office, Quicken, and other software licenses are not shown in the PC side of the spreadsheet. However, the cost of new equipment in the PC side hinted that the head of the family was in fact considering buying new hardware altogether.

Re-reading your paper, various times actually, did not clear up which type of course is the father considering, but the majority of the points describe a situation of acquiring new equipment. If it is this situation, there are some observations that need to be considered which weren't:

- An Office License must also be bought for the two new computers, as well as a Quicken License, which I'm guessing is going to be installed in the main desktop.

- Antivirus and anti-adware software and their respective subscription must also be acquired, as well as registry clean up tools. These are not optional in the windows environment you're describing.

- The Windows PCs also need a 2 hour monthly maintenance, which factors in as time spent with both computers. Two hours on a Sunday is time away from the kids, from the wife, from rest; it does matter. Another, more expensive option is to not do any maintenance whatsoever, and require IT support every so often to re-install everything from scratch.

- There is a great amount of software (mainly iLife) that is included inside Apple computers, which are not considered in the PC side of the spreadsheet. This software is helpful in the already established workflow of a family such as the one you've described. A set of substitute software must also be added in the PC side, as well as their upgrade in the 3-year time, if an honest comparison is to be made. Also, two licenses of each of these substitutes should be bought and upgraded for each computer, as the iLife family package already accounts for the whole family.

It can be argued that the iLife software should not be factored in, as it is probable that some software may not be actively used, however, as you've added the MobileMe subscription (which many Apple users don't actively use), it seems only fair to consider EVERYTHING that the user is investing in when buying the hardware.

I've attached a recalculation of your projections having all of what I described in mind. I don't think you'll be surprised how the overall costs of ownership changes when you do an honest comparison.

Thank you for your time.

PS. The fact that Microsoft sponsored your analysis did not surprised me in the least.

Caleb Rascon
Software Developer
Makko Solutions, Co-founder
http://makko.com.mx

PhD Student
http://personalpages.manchester.ac.uk/postgrad/Caleb.Rascon/

Click here to download the PDF file with the new projections I attached to the e-mail.

Creatively Wrong

2009-04-03T05:08:00.000+01:00

This post was inspired by Sir Ken Robinson's conference at the 2007 TED Talks.

I was on my way home a couple of days ago, riding a half-full bus near a mother with her (I'm guessing) less-than-a-year-old daughter. Sitting beside them was a man in his early thirties. The child was given a piece of paper to play with and dropped it. The man picked it up and handed it to the child. The child at first was suspicious. She looked back at her mum who smiled acceptedly, and grabbed the piece of paper back. Then, the kid surprised me when she dropped it again, but this time to experiment if the man would do it again; he did. This was the game the lad played all the way to my bus stop. That's all she needed: a piece of paper, and somebody to pick it up.

I remember when I was a kid and the teachers made us work in the classroom. Not to brag, but I regularly finished working before almost everybody, partly because I liked to play with my pencils and erasers afterwards. I imagined that they were spaceships, or cars in a race, or martial arts experts, or super-powered humans with awesome abilities like flying or laser-beam controlled rockets that were shot from their arms. Other than when I was working, I don't remember a moment in which I imagined they were actually pencils and erasers.

I miss that sensation of living in my head, of not caring to do wrong. I've always wondered what happened to it. Hearing Sir Robinson made me realise where it went: the teachers took it away from me. Not the actual persons, mind you, but the academic process. It's a bottleneck of sorts. The persons that are good at math get good grades and are expected to excel in life, whilst the artistic types are left behind to fend for themselves. Sir Robinson's right, the current school model aims to form academic professors, which are built to keep the model alive. By its own definition, no creative process to improve the model is allowed.

Kids are born without the adult's reservation of doing something out of precaution of getting it wrong; frankly, they couldn't care less. In fact, many of the kids I remember talking to when I was a teenager even craved being shown wrong. Is as if they knew insticintively that "if you're not prepared to be wrong, you'll never come up with anything original" (Sir Ken Robinson). Their questions drowned my senses when, knowing they can do anything they wanted, wanted to know everything about everything.

Do the following experiment: walk into a kinder-garden classroom and ask the kids there if anybody knows how to dance, sing, or paint. Everybody will say that they know how to. Now try to do the same in a college classroom...

It's like the academic model is built to suck the creativity out of us, producing future parents that will suck even more creativity out of their children, turning all of this into a spiral of numbness and unidirectional boredom. To think I picked up a guitar until the age of sixteen, to think I knew how to create a whole universe from a stain of ink, to think... to imagine.

I guess this is my objective for the next year: to crave moments of imagination, to not care of my wrongdoing, and to believe, wholeheartedly, that I can do anything. To be a child again and, in the purest sense, have fun.

How ironic that now, after all this time of seeing and knowing and experiencing life, it sounds like probably the hardest thing I'll ever do.

A six-year-old little girl, who hardly ever paid attention, was in her drawing lesson. This time, however, she was deeply concentrated in her work. The teacher, surprised by her conviction, came close to the child and asked, "What are you drawing?" "I'm drawing a picture of God", the little girl replied. The teacher, puzzled, exclaimed back, "But nobody knows what God looks like!" The little girl, with that cute smile prevalent during that age, answered, "They will in a minute."

New song: Bkp

2009-03-07T11:10:00.002Z

This is a short one.

Just to let you know that there's a new song to download:

Click here for my box.net share of Bkp.

There's room for more (a bass harmony, and maybe voice) but I like it. This is the first song I've recorded from scratch using Logic and my Guitar Rig, so I'm stoked by how it came out.

Comment away.

Phelps and Westboro Baptist Church

2009-02-12T08:26:00.002Z

If you don't know about the Westboro Baptist Church, I envy you. In my opinion they are to Christianity as what the Al-Qaeda are to Islam; although the former may be more law abiding than the latter. Their message is about hate, and I just couldn't take it anymore.

They have a website, which I'm not going to link here (they have all the publicity they need, believe me), in which they have a contact form. The following is an email I've just sent to the Westboro Baptist Church. I hope you can grasp the severe amount of sarcasm in there, and the fact that I needed to get their trust in the first paragraphs so they get to the good part in the middle.

Subject: Thank you. Ideas to save the USA from damnation.

Body:

Hello my brethren,

I do hope you don't trash this email with the rest of the scum that I'm sure floods your inboxes. I have heard your words, and read your message, and I'm intrigued. In fact, I'm disappointed. You see, I think you're doing too little in favour of God and the USA.

You say God hates Fags, and point to several parts of the Bible, word of God, that asserts it. There's no denying that, of course, we know that their decadent, filthy ways are the reason the USA is seen as only beast in the eyes of our Lord. How else can God see the USA if they fornicate and blaspheme as only dirty dogs do?

However, I think there are other things that you need to add to your holy message. Here's a humble list of what else I think can be done/said in the name of our God:

-God hates Family:
.Matthew 19:29. And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.

-God hates Children:
.Exodus 12:29. And it came to pass, that at midnight the LORD smote all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn of Pharaoh that sat on his throne unto the firstborn of the captive that was in the dungeon; and all the firstborn of cattle.
.Leviticus 26:30. And ye shall eat the flesh of your sons, and the flesh of your daughters shall ye eat.

-The latter also works for "God loves Cannibalism", which is confirmed by the Holy Communion where we eat the body of our Lord.

-God hates Jesus:
.Matthew 1:23. The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel [Isaiah]—which means, "God with us".
(That's not the name of Jesus)
.Romans 1:3. regarding his Son, who as to his human nature was a descendant of David
(The only descendant of Jesus is the Virgin Mary, not Joseph who is a descendant of David)
.Isaiah 7:16. But before the boy knows enough to reject the wrong and choose the right, the land of the two kings you dread will be laid waste.
(This never happened during the life of Jesus)

This proves that Jesus is not the true messiah, only a blasphemer portraying as the God's ONLY son, when we know all of us who have been baptised are His sons.

Hope that this helps in your quest for righting the USA out of damnation with all that damn tolerance towards family, children, and Jesus (and no support for cannibals) which the Bible, word of God, clearly shows as the reason that the USA is going to Hell.

Thank you,
Caleb

Carlin

2009-02-10T04:34:00.002Z

I think it's time I write about someone I lost some time ago. Like any other death that I've experienced from afar, the feeling that I have for it doesn't come out until some time after. However, this time it's a little a different, as I've never met the man. I'm talking about George Carlin.

Those who know me know that most of the thoughts and positions that I waffle about have been brought up by comedians. Comedy is a wonderful, wondrous and wooing way to communicate. It disarms you, leaving you open for new thought. However, it is also tricky, troublesome and tormentful, as if it's done wrong, the message that was meant to be communicated may be misunderstood. And it is in this way that comedy strikes me as a very important medium: you need to be ready to be hit, you need to prepare yourself to open up. It is a bit like anal sex: you need to relax before it goes in, if not it's probably going to hurt (this one's for you Georgy).

It's on that regard that Mr. Carlin shines. He manages to convey his message beautifully arranged and perfectly portrayed, making it very difficult not to listen. He's going to kick you in the balls, and if you don't open up, he makes certain that it hurts. And in that exquisite pain, you start thinking about what he just said, and why it pains you. You start yelling back, trying to make some sense of your past knowledge about the subject, and at that moment it hits you: you don't know anything about the subject, just bits and pieces. So you research about it, you look into yourself for a new explanation, and you come out at the end with a new point. And then you realise that the new point is not so different from your starting point, and that in fact the slight differences between the old and the new are completely ridiculous. And in that ridicule you start laughing. You can't believe how important you thought those differences were, which now seem so insignificant. You listen to him again, and smile, and laugh... and an epiphany comes: You've just come to a conclusion about a subject with your own self, and with a smile in your face to top it off.

He's been my main tool for new thought since I knew about him. Even in his death he's helped me to know myself, as I've noticed that his death (being of a person I've never met) has hit me exactly the same way as any other death in my family. This suggested that I'm not particularly devoted to persons close to me, which I need to address. Either that, or I have unknowingly welcomed him as part of my family.

I know he would slap me on the face if I kept writing as if I was putting him on some sort of pedestal. He's not a saint (that specifically would infuriate him), and he's certainly not in heaven. But he's probably not in hell either. In his interview with Jesus in one of his books, there was a mention of the existence of a heck, which is not as bad as hell; who knows, he's probably there right now, playing poker with some friends of his. I suppose that now that he's dead he would enjoy the act of me writing shit about him. However, I tried, I really tried, but I can't come up with any bad things to write about him, other than he's white (which many people find offensive nowadays), and his idiotic quirk when he mimes fucking someone on stage.

Even his position in religion I always thought has been spot on:

If it's true that we're all from the center of a star, every atom on each of us from the center of a star, then we’re all the same thing. Even a Coke machine or a cigarette butt in the street in buffalo is made out of atoms that came from a star. They've all been recycled thousands of times, as have you and I. And therefore, it's only me out there. So what is there to be afraid of? What is there that needs solace seeking? Nothing. There's nothing to be afraid of because it's all us.

The trouble is we have been separated by being born and given a name and an identity and being individuated. We've been separated from the oneness, and that's what religion exploits. That people have this yearning to be part of the overall one again. So they exploit that. They call it god, they say he has rules, and I think it's cruel. I think you can do it absent religion.

For people who read this blog periodically (which I'm pretty sure I can count with the fingers of my left hand... the right hand is busy right now), you've probably noticed my unprecedented use of "foul" language in this post. Get used to it:

It's not a need [to use the F-word]. It's a choice. [...] It's a form of spice in my stew.

I've always tried to stop myself from using it when writing for this blog, but I don't think I will anymore. There's no such thing as "foul" language, they're just words, and damn it, I'm going to use every one that I deem necessary. In honour of Mr. Carlin, if it feels right, it's going in... that's what she said, I know.

I don't want to end without giving you what I think are his best two quotes:

In our school we didn't have grades. We didn't have A's, B's, C's and D's. The only A's I got -and this is a little corny- I got their Attention, I got their Approval, their Admiration, their Approbation, and their Applause. And those were the only A's I wanted, and I got'em.

As the answer for the question: If there was a Heaven, what would you like God to say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Now we're going to have some fun!

Indeed.

Right Writer

2009-02-03T07:26:00.005Z

Almost a year and a half ago I sat in front of this screen and pleaded for an unknown but familiar energy to move my fingers through the keyboard to begin writing. It worked like I knew it would.

I sat here and began the process of talking in my head, and then simply writing it down: think, write, think, write. I accustomed myself to the thought of seeing the writer in me emerge like it always has after what some may describe as a ritual: my plea to a god (in the latter case, Paz) in the form in which I needed to do. It's appropriate, as doing the plea involves the presence of the energy that I want the presence of.

It's a nice, illogical, but powerful circle that can't be defined, but somehow it works. I don't remember how it started to work, or how did I began understanding it. I'm pretty sure even now that I don't know how it works, but as with any rituals, it is not the inner mechanisms that we care about, but of their products; still, my rationale tempted me.

It's been long since I really delved into this being, into this ability again. However, this time, I'm frightful. My fear stems from not knowing what do I become when I write, is it me who is writing or is it this energy? And then I start to wonder if I'm the right vessel for such energy.

I read from others and sit in awe of their wondrous mastery over the word, and realise that I'm not a writer. I obviously don't think like one. The structure of my essays can't stand the rigour in which an essay needs to be written with. My stories don't hold the intense sway that I've read in others'. And the technique with which I write has been extensively criticised by superiors and colleagues as being plain "not good".

Still, I wonder: do these other writers, with their structural essays, swaying stories, "good" writing, have similar rituals as I do? Maybe not in the same manner as mine (a thought that not only saves their sane stature, but also my out-of-ordinary reputation), but with at least the same intent. They must have; even seeing a blank piece of paper (or word-processor screen) and imagining what to write about may be enough for this energy to come onto them. If this true, then an interesting concept creeps up:

Is it them who are writing or is it this energy? And then I start to wonder if they're the right vessel for such energy. The only difference between me and them in this respect would be my poetic attempts to make something more out of the seemingly ordinary event of starting to write something long. Nice little thought, but I won't go into it too much: I know I'm not a writer, I don't feel like writing everyday (thus, the rituals) and it is usually more what I say then what I write that feels more, you know, me.

Still, writers have always being mythical figures. They record history, communicate wisdom as well as help misinformation tactics, and even wind up being considered artists in the process. Of all the things that were considered historically significant in the last century, can you remember one that wasn't adhered to an impressive speech or important quote? And yet, borrowing a bit from a great writer/comedian (Lewis Black), to become a writer the only thing you need to do is to say "I am a writer" and you're done. Oh, and by his accounts, you also need to be full of shit.

As I'm staring at the end of this piece it has occurred to me that this is in fact the ritual that I just described (this time it was Lewis Black, who knew?), and, as I already know that I'm full of shit, there is only one thing left:

I AM A WRITER... so let it begin (hope Mr. Black was right).

EDIT: I tend to avoid editing a post after publishing it, unless I find some grammar mistakes or I know of something afterwards that needs to be added to the post. This is the latter. I just heard from Lewis Black in an interview:

If you want to write, sit down and start writing; that's what a writer is. Even if you're not writing anything of importance. Uhmm... THAT DOESN'T MEAN BLOGGING. Doesn't mean blogging. I don't care, it doesn't fuck count to me. It doesn't, [...] I get so upset by it I don't even... I really literally cannot form an opinion because when I say the word I just get enraged. It sounds like something... it sounds like fatty tissue. "I was doing very well, until I got this blog."

For those of you, like me, who doesn't know what fatty tissue is: it's the lump on the side of women's breast that signifies possible breast cancer. Here is the interview.

My opinion? I just laughed hysterically for about two minutes.

Brothers

2009-01-06T09:34:00.004Z

He came into being with a bright light surrounding him and vanishing. He felt weak, and unknowing. He began moving and noticed others coming into being behind him. A voice came from a distance, "Welcome to Shadowglen. Young... young..." an unnerving pause shook the wind around him, "what are you?"

Another voices greeted the others behind him:

"Welcome to Shadowglen, young druid."
"Welcome to Shadowglen, young warrior."
"Welcome to Shadowglen, young rogue."

The voice that greeted him evolved from warm to chilling: "What are you?! What's your name?! Answer!" He searched his mind for an answer, "I don't know..." The voice retorted, "No newcomer is born without a name. Tenaron! Trespasser!"

Three dark birds came flying down quickly, and in mid-flight one turned into a bear, another into a cat, the other into a night elf. They all surrounded him, while a beautiful violet bird landed in front of him and turned into a night elf with a warm presence. "I am Tenaron", he explained, while looking him up and down. "You'll have to excuse our greeter. Although his main duty is to greet, he is also a lookout for Horde. It is very rare for Horde to even reach Teldrassil, even less probable for them to reach Shadowglen, but we never can be too safe."

"Horde? Teldrassil?", he said, searching for answers.

Tenaron, still looking him up, "Greeter, no cause for alarm. He is not of the Horde and does not wish us harm", turning to the spirit behind him, "but... he's not human, nor dwarf. Not even draenei."

"I am not of this world, it appears", he concluded. "The hostile greeting I've received makes me believe this Horde stands in poor graces with your kind... these humans, dwarves, and draenei."

"and night elves. We are Alliance, and you believe correctly. It is of long-stance this conflict. They have hunted and killed our kind for ages now. They are beasts that bear no reason, their society has no room for civility and understanding, such as we do." Tenaron proudly explained.

"Calling another an unreasonable beast is a sign of poor civility and understanding, Tenaron", he declared, looking straight into Tenaron's eyes.

"How... dare you?" a shocked Tenaron exclaimed, while a cat hissed, a bear growled, and night elf's hand started to glow. "We welcome you into our sacred land, and you answer with this pomposity!"

"My dear Tenaron, you judge me as pompous, while here you stand with three of your highly-trained guards preparing to kill a newcomer with no training whatsoever." He smiled to himself, "New... comer. New... Niu. Yes, that will be my name then: Niu."

Tenaron reacquired his posture. "I will not apologise for our ways to secure our home, young... whatever you are. Niu, is it? As our greeter has stated, no newcomer comes without name, appointed by the gods. The gods that have protected us and helped us fight the Horde. You are welcome to join us, Niu. I see potential in you, that will be of great benefit for our cause."

"These gods of yours did not appoint me my name. I have. I'm relieved of this, as it appears these gods crave for war and I don't want to be linked to them in any way." Niu shouted.

"Our gods don't crave for war, it is the Horde's gods that do!" Tenaron defending his creed.

"I'll figure that for myself." Niu, walking towards the outskirts of Shadowglen. The cat behind him stepped aside unknowingly.

"Very well. I should pray to our gods for your death to be swift. Although, if it's by a Horde's claw, I truly doubt that this will be the case." Tenaron shouted back.

After passing through Shadowglen's entrance gate, he felt an impenetrable presence surrounding him, making him unable to move. A strong and reverberating voice made itself present, "I thought I would never see the day. It was true. You were born. Niu: wondrous name. Elegant, cunning, sincere."

"Who are you?" Niu asking without fear.

"My name is irrelevant, but I am of the Gee Em, and we've been expecting you. The story of this land is long, and, although Alliance and Horde bear many differences, such hatred can be contemplated as ironic: they are destined to share this land forever," the voice whispered.

"How would you know this?" Niu grinned, as he knew the answer to his question.

"We wrote that destiny, young Niu", the voice warmly responded, "however, we didn't write how would they be sharing this land."

"This is where I come in," Niu interrupted. "Yes, Niu," the voice, seemingly impressed, "and your timing could not have been better. As we speak, the night elf who just spoke to you is receiving a warning of an incoming attack from the Horde, and..."

Niu smiled, "it is up to me. It rests in me. I come with a new age to this land. In me lies the possibility for them to live peacefully, for one of them to enslave the other, or..."

The Gee Em grievingly answered, "for both of them to destroy each other. Yes, Niu, your presence may come with their extermination, making them share this land in spirit... It is your choice."

Niu glared at the horizon. He looked at his transparent hands and body. He looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes, and smiled again. "Their hatred is the origin of their destruction. Me doing nothing will get them there. I am here, thus, their destruction is mine as well," He paused, "Slavery starts a never-ending cycle of animosity, that is probably the reason of why things are as they are now." The Gee Em's smile was felt throughout the land. "Ok. I have made a decision."

The floor trembled. The sky was flooded by mounted dragons, birds and planes, heading towards "Darnassus! Our capital city is being raided by the Horde!", a night elf shrieked.

"Take me there, wise Gee Em," ordered Niu. In a flash, he was standing in the portal towards the dock of Teldrassil. A moment later, he was seeing a figure appearing in front of him. It was Thrall, an intimidating orc, a leader of the Horde that has broken many Allies' necks with his powerful hammer. Behind Niu stood Tyrande Whisperwind, a fare night elf, a leader of the Alliance that has burned to death many Horde with her uncanny use of magic. All stood still, as if they were in the centre of a hurricane. "I gather you're here to kill them," Niu spoke to Thrall while a massive amount of orcs, trolls, undead and blood elves began to gather.

"Yes," answered Thrall, pondering who was he speaking to. "Are you with the Alliance?", he asked.

"No," responded Niu. "Then you must be Horde. You seem weak, but that shouldn't stop you from gathering yourself to attack these self-righteous scumbags," growled Thrall.

"I'm not Horde either," responded Niu. Thrall moulded a question in his mind that couldn't be put into words.

Niu turned to Tyrande, "I gather you're here to defend this land from the Horde." "Yes, these beasts have threatened us before. We're ready to finish them once and for all," answered Tyrande while the city began filling up with dwarves, humans, night elves and draenei.

"Threat?! You speak of threat when you're people enslaved mine for ages! How else are we going to be safe while your hands, feet, and bodies are still breathing the life my kind gave you?", Thrall shouted.

"You call it slavery, we call it protection from the lack of reason of your kind. The humans had no other choice than to put you in cages after your decent in helping for our destruction in the First War," Tyrande answered.

"We were brought here to prosper. We were promised land. A land of welcoming, but we were betrayed. Our elders tried to reason afterwards, but your fathers wouldn't listen," Thrall almost crying.

"Reason? What kind of reason lies in such beasts? Your elders would have betrayed us. Our fathers couldn't risk that to happen," Tyrande sniffing away Thralls tears.

Niu looked at the sky, took a small breath, and said: "You are both here to prevent your deaths by the hand of the other, but you wish to do so by killing each other. You seem both to me breeds of great reason, but of little understanding. And such misunderstanding has led both of you to think of the other as either mindless beasts or self-centered elitists. Allies, Horde: this is not your land. It is of itself; in fact, we are of the land. And we shall return to it one day, but not at the hand of each other, but at the words of the destiny writers. There is great power in both your lines of breed, but it can reach greater heights if you come to realise that your past is not your present, and that the acts of the dead cannot speak for the acts of the living. I see a great deal of both of you in the other, but you can't see that because pride has blinded you. A pride that has been bestowed upon you through a simple whim of destiny: you were born either Alliance or Horde, a decision which wasn't your own, but still you wave your flags, shouting words of pride for being an Ally or a Horde as if you had something to do with the fact that you are one. I am here, and didn't ask to be here, but it has been my choice to remain here and say this to you, and for that I'm proud, because it was my choice. Don't be proud for what your breed has done, be proud for what you personally have done and what are going to do. Look into your hearts, and see that the thing that will bring the most pride to each of your kind is to you see yourselves as children of these lands... as brothers."

Niu felt a small breeze through his body and he closed his eyes as his being was coming to an end. Everybody stood by as the essence of Niu evaporated. A Gee Em whispered to him, "Come back to us, son. You have done well."

Thrall and Tyrande looked at each other and gave a simple nod. Thrall walked towards Tyrande, and mid-way stopped and laid his hammer in the ground. Tyrande began levitating her staff and laid it on Thralls feet; she then casted a spell onto Thrall, making him feel stronger. "You bear now a mark that before only an Ally was able to bear: the Gift of the Wild. It should endure your entire life," Tyrande warmly remarked. Thrall picked up Tyrande's staff and ordered, "Horde, back to your cities and villages. We shall leave our brothers in peace."

...

For personal reasons, I have decided to stop playing World of Warcraft until an undefined date. These reasons will surely be explained in later posts. However, I want to mention that I have met a wonderful group people while playing the game, both Horde and Allies, to which I dedicate this story:

Thank you for fighting with me, healing me, and making me feel needed and good at what I was doing. I will come back a better man, and a better feral druid.

My armory page.

Obama Won

2008-11-06T09:58:00.002Z

Obama won.

Shouting and celebration was met by a quiet rumbling of a dream of a junior king some time ago. I consider myself guilty of putting more attention of the politics of a country other than my own, but, frankly, who can blame me? That democratic race was a ride, full of gaffes and inspirational moments that made it unforgettable. All of those dirty moves and emotional speeches entertained me greatly for the last two years, always making me think about what will happen to the world with the next leader of that hate-it-or-love-it country. And, of course, I am going to be able to say that I was alive when the first black president of the USA was democratically elected.

However, I'm feeling somewhat disturbed. An stereotype, even if it has an apparent positive side to it, is still a generalisation, which takes offence and that must be straightened. Some news organisations and many US citizens are feeling pride of having elected a black man to office; and it bothers me because it is implying a racial stereotype that I thought was already overcome. Obama seems to be a good man, and if he is, that is the reason to celebrate, but to be joyful because he is black has a weight of prejudice that I see very similar as wanting a black man in your basketball team. I understand the historic implications of having elected a a black president, and it is truly a landmark event, but to present that as evidence of moral evolution and stating it as a reason to "believe in the USA again", is the same as being proud of not going to jail. Let me remind you that in that same election, Proposition 8 (a California state amendment banning gay marriage) was passed.

Was Nelson Mandela celebrated this way when he was elected president of South Africa? Would people feel the same pride when electing a white man to that office (he would be the first)? A Korean right now is the Secretary General of the UN (a highly important position in world politics), an African, a Chinese and many others of different ethnicities have been elected to that same office, where was their celebration? There wasn't, because there shouldn't be. Obama himself stated that race is only the core of oneself, not our identity. Obama's performance as a president will be irrelevant of his skin colour, so being proud of having a black president concedes itself as plain ignorance and prejudice.

For the record, I'm happy that Obama was elected, out of the two he seemed more humane, honest, and I really like his speeches, but, like with any other politician, I'm not keeping my hopes up. Frankly, none of the persons that were considered during the race seemed adequate. That bottleneck of a system that breaks people and gives out candy for following orders is still in place. Even though Obama frequently distanced himself from McCain, their policies on the fundamental issues of democracy and wealth are not that different (they both voted for the bailout plan). USA is still shouting itself as the beacon of democracy when in reality it's anything but... the citizen didn't get to rule on the war in Iraq (even with all the protests), or the bank bailout plan, or the healthcare system, which have far greater importance than the propositions they actually get to vote on. The only time they get to decide on an important national issue is for the presidency, the race for which spends millions of dollars of endorsements by corporations that are planning to cash their check later, and the options for which are just different flavours of the same thing. I'm sorry, but this is no different than before, other than the fact that the person elected is black; to shout "Look at us! We got the black guy on top, aren't we civilised?" is like a crack addict claiming progress because he only does coke now.

A truly democratic country would have the people running the country. It'd skip all the smokes and mirrors that this pseudo-democratic system has put in place, and make every citizen a politician. Debating each other, reading upon the issues, and getting acquainted with the world outside of their house, the population itself would strive to reach a true country-wide consensus. However, a person today is too busy to read, too tired to debate, and too docile to contradict the status quo. I won't get into why this is so, but I will say it is not entirely the person's fault.

And for all of you that are thinking "We just voted a black man for office, how is that not contradicting the status quo?", remember that you still went into the same ice cream store you have gone into for the last hundred years, the only difference is that you asked for chocolate instead of vanilla.

Wikipedia

2008-10-20T05:22:00.005+01:00

Because of my research endeavours (or, rather, my attempts of), I've been reading a bit more than usual about the topics of my project. And usually, to start off a thread of thought about a certain subject, I start out by first looking on Wikipedia, and then stranding off from there.

However, I stumbled upon this article that talks about the Corruption of Wikipedia. A little bit long for my taste, but interesting nonetheless. The subtitle of the article reads 'Can Wikipedia be Reformed?' (which, in my opinion, if it is corrupted, that's the question I would like to be answered), but the article extends upon various unfortunate situations that occurred to several researchers that created content for Wikipedia, at Wikipedia's fault (at least, that's what the author implies), and no real answer is given. The article's main points can be summarised as:

Wikipedia has evolved into a hierarchy, similar to a bureaucracy, with Jim Wales, aka 'Jimbo', aka 'God-King', at the top, with total power over the site's content. To be part of and remain in this bureaucracy no knowledge of certain areas are needed, just a "devotion to Wikipedianism".
This results in 'amateurs' running the show, and 'real scientist/researchers' left out. This is a problem, as the researchers are actually the main content creators of the site (I really doubt that this is true, but for the sake of argument I'll let it slide). Meaning that for a certain topic to be clarified, an MIT Professor has to debate with a high school graduate about the amount of ions in a glass of milk. These debates are usually won by the amateur teenager as they have more time in their hands to edit the content more frequently (deleting the Professor's contribution, replacing it with theirs). Coincidentally, because of the number of edits and stride for "Wikipedianism" shown by the teenager, he/she is ranked higher than the Professor.
Having the amateur on top, makes for an ignorant fool to be able to label real research as 'vandalism' and changing/banning the contents of articles about subjects out of their scope of knowledge.
This frustrates the real researchers, making them stop contributing and, thus, stopping contribution all together in the near future.

The rest of the article, frankly, constitutes a long, worn-out rant. A frequent reference was the case of another contributor called Gann, in which at one point denounces the use of the concept of 'Conflict of Interest' when he tried to cite his own findings in an article that was of the subject he's an expert on. Although he does seem to the see the point of why this rule is necessary ("You don't want every unpublished crank using Wikipedia to propagate his crackpot views"), he fails to see that the main problem is not the actual rule but the usage of it... I'll explain myself later. At this point I want to to also cover another interesting titbit coming from Gann. I'll post the whole thing here:

This was not only one bad experience, but the worst of several - plus the lack of fairness in the implementation of rules, which seem to apply to some and not others. I've quit jobs at paying publications for less provocation. Perseverance would have gotten me further where? What was I trying to achieve? I was doing Wikipedia favors. How many bad experiences should it have taken me to no longer want to do things for them? If there is a permanent structural problem in using my own research and expertise, what possible incentive could I have to continue? What would I want to write about except my own areas of expertise? When I see such abundant evidence from the people who have posted here and all those experts who have left Wikipedia that the problems will certainly continue and there is no structural process for avoiding them, why would I volunteer to continue fighting fights in which I have nothing whatever to gain?

What is there to gain? What incentives are there? ...talking like a true researcher.

When I decided to undergo my academic career, I did it coming from the business side of things, where people are constantly trying to gain up on each other and the ego of one has to be contemplated when negotiating with another. You're constantly licking boots and kissing behinds just to get a good deal, and always trying to see what you can get out of it. I was sadly disappointed when I realised that the academic side is no different.

"In normal academic practice, the views of experts are solicited and discussed." This is because any discussion without that 'expert' in the room is considered an insult, which will provoke later publications delayed out of that account because that expert is usually their reviewer.

"In normal academic practice, expertise is honored and respected." This makes the creation of new knowledge difficult, as egos have to considered. Finding out anything out of the status quo of the Professor's ideology is research suicide.

"The problem is that Wikipedia forces its contributors to come to a consensus, and building consensus with a crank is a fool's errand." Unfortunately, to have a PhD only proves to a small amount of people that you're not a crank. To the rest of the world, it doesn't matter, and it shouldn't matter. Believe me, I've had my share of "consensus" with PhD-bearing cranks.

(Making a brief parenthesis here. I'm reading this while writing it, and it seems like I'm saying that everything from the academic side is crap. It's not, obviously, and I will explain myself later.)

The beauty of Wikipedia, or rather the Wiki concept, is that it doesn't matter who you are, you can write or delete its content. The author of this article, and the persons he referenced, come to the table thinking that their research contributions entitles them a golden rod in every corner of the knowledge-loving world, which I can't help feeling as being arrogant.

"On Wikipedia, academic experts who have tried to participate have been denigrated as 'self-promoters', censored, and then banned." Stating in an article that something is so because a certain reference says so, and then pointing to your own thesis is self-promoting. It is another reference made to your work, elevating your academic status (answering the question "What am I getting out of this?"). If these researchers think that their contributions should come with a pat on the back and some type of retribution, maybe they shouldn't have gone into research in the first place.

Besides, coming into an article and 'contributing' your own findings as being knowledge that has to be accepted and not modified because you are from the 'academic side', is as dangerous as somebody coming into a news corporation and stating what can and can't be broadcasted because they're from the government.

Academic research doesn't hold a stranglehold on knowledge or common sense. The number of articles a person has published doesn't relate to the person's knowledge of the subject. I know of people who have read in their own free time hundreds of papers in Biology and not have one publication in the subject, but can give a whole lecture on it. Many of the persons that have revolutionised our way of seeing our world have come from the outside the academic circle:

John Harrison, clockmaker. Revolutionised the way ships made their way through vast oceans.
Srinivasa_Ramanujan, indian child. Contributed in many areas of mathematics with no formal training.
Guillermo González Camarena, mexican radio-amateurist. Held a patent for a color television set, later used by NASA to take picture and video of Jupiter.

And Wikipedia is a way for these persons to share their knowledge without the need to obtain a high-level degree just to be recognised by other high-level-degree-bearing persons.

However, to be fair (this wouldn't be my blog without hitching out the other side too)...

Wikipedia is banning information? Censoring? That's too much. Even though I don't contribute to the Wiki movement much (I'm more of a leech), censoring is an important point that this movements stands against. One of the big problems of the academic research mob (which disgustingly resembles a political party at times) is that in paper the ideologies seem nice, but they fail when acting upon them because of poor judicial elements. Everything the author referenced could be worked around by having a close eye on how the consensus procedures are going along and if any person on top is misusing their privileges. But the Wikipedia heads are failing to act upon their own statures.

The situation of the author is not infrequent, unfortunately, and the freedom that a person is promised by Wikipedia to share knowledge is being taken away by another set of egos. And these are fed by the article-editing obsession to be on top, making them worse than the academic ones.

Institutions that are reigned by a handful of persons that promise an alternative from another bureaucratic institution, are bound to become one. The fact that Jim Wales can change any article he pleases is a problem, a big one. Wikipedia has now the potential to become either a knowledge dictatorship (which in our time, is a very dangerous thing), or a place of knowledge with its own conscience, with no person bearing all the power. 'Jimbo' is not comfortable giving this up, it seems; having too much power does that to a person.

An important subject is the way that the heads of Wikipedia are being chosen. The fact that a person edits a lot of articles doesn't imply that such person is qualified to edit ANY article. I think there should be a careful re-thinking of how a someone gets a higher rank, specifically judging by the quality of judgement taking place when editing and the type and scope of articles he/she is editing. Because, if a high-level degree is not necessarily a sign of good judgement, neither is an obsession for article-editing. And this is a failure coming from both sides: it is erroneous to think that any one attribute is sufficient to state the qualifications of a person in a scientific area. A hands-on debate, coupled with a wide account of references, is a good starting point for me to judge if a person is knowledgeable; both sides are failing to do even this, for their own ego-filled reasons.

There are obviously very nice, down-to-earth people in the academic side, as well as they are intelligent people with common sense inside the Wikipedia site. A recent Wikiversity topic has been created called Wikipedia Studies, the aim of which is to find the problems of Wikipedia and bring out solutions for them. As John Schmidt, a Wikiversity Editor, states in the comments area of the article: "Some Wikipedians are rude to other editors, which violates the civility policy. I'm sorry if you have been treated rudely at Wikipedia. [...] I think it is possible to improve Wikipedia by working from withing the system. The community is in control....[sic] its just tricky for such a large and rapidly growing community to recognize and repair the problems that arise. We need your help."

PS. One more thing: just because the name "Wikipedia" ends like the word 'Encyclopaedia', doesn't mean that it is a valid source of information. Wikipedia is NOT the sole indicator of what is in the world. So:

Wikipedia heads: you're job is well-appreciated, but get off your horse, editing articles doesn't entitle you the virtue of knowledge, and I can always go somewhere else for my information. You're not essential, so stop acting as if you were.

Researchers/experts: get through your heads that there's a world out there that doesn't care about your publications and so-called 'expertise'. If you can't reach a consensus with a nutcase because he thinks he knows everything, maybe it is time to see that reflection in the mirror more closely.

And readers, yeah you, don't think that you are out of the hook on this one: the reason why Wikipedia got so arrogant was because of your laziness at research. Wikipedia is just one source, and getting all of your information from just one source is not only lazy, it is dangerous and just plain dumb.

I will, Mom.

2008-09-21T21:53:00.004+01:00

"Are you ok?", the paramedic screamed. I nodded. "We need to check her, son." There was no need... she was gone. He grabbed her wrist, trying to find a heartbeat, and sighed heavily while his stare went blank.

...

"This is RAID 800.75 FM! The time is 8:15 am, time for you to wake up, sleepy bird!" While a big yawn poured out of my mouth, I looked at the ceiling and the absence of the scent of burnt toast filled the air. "Happy birthday, son!", dad yelled. "Yeah, yeah..." They don't matter anymore; not without her. "Ok, mom, you're right," climbing out of bed, I yelled back, "Thanks, dad."

"I'll try to smile a little today for you, mom," I walked out the door, turning my music player as a distraction, but I know, she knows, it's of no use. The bus was late, as always, "I'll try to be patient, I know, mom."

"Are you sure about that theorem? I'm not convinced of the validity of your mathematical proof", the Professor threatened, with his usual pompous stare. "I know you have proven the reverse of this", I replied, staring back. "But your assumptions are too strict. If we loosen the restrictions, my proof is valid. Believe me, it's correct." Her stare filled me with acceptance. She knew I was right; I knew I was right; that's all that mattered.

Afterwards, at the bar, some friends and family gathered for a brief drink. "Good job on defending your work, bro!", a friend cheered. "Thanks", I replied. "Oh, don't be modest! You looked at the Professor right at the eye and basically said his long-proven theorem was outdated. You have balls, man!", he insisted. "He got that from our mom", my brother replied. I felt a little smile come upon my face. Then, perhaps out of too much alcohol in his blood stream, my friend slurred out, "Have you ever thought what would it be like if your mom would still be around?".

The silence in the table woke up everybody for their drunken daze. "No. And to answer your other question: Would I bring her back If I had the chance? No, I wouldn't", I calmly said back. The oxygen inside the bar went down a couple of litters, as everybody gasped simultaneously. "I'm proud of who I am, and am such because of her and what happened to her. To want her back would be an insult of her doing, of her sacrifice. She gave her life for me to be who I am. What mother hasn't done the same thing for her son?"

...

As I looked at my mother's blood-stained face, she looked upon my tear-filled eyes. "Don't worry, baby. You're ready. Make me proud."

"I will, mom."

Where I'm Going

2008-08-31T15:07:00.002+01:00

"I don't know where I'm going", one of the many themes of my life throughout it. It has been plaguing my conscience since I was given the gift of memory... or, depending how you see it, the curse of remembrance. It is this lack of knowledge that has, ironically, made me who I am: lonely, confused, and detoured.

Little by little I've been finding peace in that confusion: the fact of not having control on everything has evolved from being torture to a feeling of liberation; loneliness has finally uncovered itself as something that my subconscious yearns for, so I shouldn't escape from it; the sun has its virtues, and the moon isn't perfect.

I tend to write these posts as a way of freeing from me my demons and my angels, to communicate to the world what I'm feeling, and, thus, let go. However, as I read through my life, there hasn't been the change that I was trying to accomplish: I still don't know where I'm going. I find myself wanting my past, probably because I know how it ends. I keep seeing in others those entities that have followed me here, and they don't let me grasp on the current situation of uncertainty. I keep recognising patterns that are probably not there, and I cry and follow them as if I'm back then. There have been a couple of times in which nobody could deny the familiarity between the two instances (past and present), and it has been those couple of times that have been (and are) difficult.

However (oh, how I'm loving that word right now), a thought has come to me, for which I'm ever so eternally grateful for. That is the next step, that is the next peaceful confusion that I need to conquer and, from what I'm recollecting, I am (we are) doing slow-but-steady progress on:

No se a dónde voy, pero sé con quién voy.

I don't know where I'm going, but I know who I'm going with.

Alejandro Jodorowsky

Thank you... thank you so much, my love.

Crosses

2008-08-12T18:36:00.004+01:00

I haven't written or recorded in a long time, so I've decided to do both:

The song has greatly impacted me since I knew of the existence of José González. I first heard it when he was touring with Zero 7, where they played their version of the song. It sounded like that kind of sound that could mean different things to different people, each, in essence, hearing a different song.

It's interesting how people do that. One person says one thing, and the other understands another. Not because of stupidity or ignorance, but because it's our nature. We carry baggage that gets in the way. Our sub-conscience is very powerful and sometimes can distort things to a point of creating misunderstandings. I've tried leaving some of my baggage to rest with some success, but I think that such baggage can identify a great deal who we are. It's in that decision of what we carry and what we leave in the road that truly defines us.

Coincidentally, what I hear from the song is exactly that: crossroads, decisions, and the baggage that goes with it. This recording shows how I listened to it... this is my version.

Diary Entry of Pilates

2008-06-25T15:23:00.003+01:00

...DATE UNKNOWN...

My spies came to me with the news of gross behaviour of an individual inside Palestine, preaching words of cannibalism and vampirism. I've heard some of these stories before, from fairy tales of the old Druids up in the Celtic territories.

The reports informed me that he had illegally gathered twelve slaves, "disciples" he called them, showing them examples of his mind-numbing powers. He apparently also worked well with hypnosis, as many peasants had said of him doing miraculous things. My men described these "miracles" as only foolery and illusion; I thank the Roman Gods, as they protect us well. Still, he seemed strong and potentially dangerous, so we had him followed and seized. One of his slaves was freed off his power by one of our most powerful priests; it was at a high cost, though, as our priest went into a comma for forty days from the effort. When freed, the slave pointed us to him. Interestingly, his mind went numb again shortly after and crawled back to his owner in remorse, as if he wanted to be enslaved again. My scouts found the slave's body under a tree afterwards... poor fool, one even comes to pity such blind obedience... we did pay him a fair amount for his deed.

When the man was brought in front of me, I asked him for his name. He said that it wasn't relevant, as he was just one of many that would come. He told me that his denominated "angels" would fall from the sky and grant my kin immortality by only drinking their blood, which rang congruent with the Druids' tales. These stories also describe horrid nightmares, and constant pains and suffering endured by these "angels", also known as vampires. Immortal, yes, but in a repeating cycle of hunger and hunt that no man should confuse as a divine reward; it is a condemning punishment. Death should be the only true reward for any Roman.

His stare dug inside my head, and his smile left no room for doubt of the truth of not only his words but of the thoughts that I just described. His teeth, salivating over the sight of my naked throat, sent chills through my spine. I knew this being should not be let loose, but, under Roman Law, the only judge for this was the will of the Jewish people, a favour from the emperor to their kind. Before the hearing, we tortured the being to try and weaken its power over the crowd. I also sent several incitators into the crowd to cheer for the petty thieve I put at the beast's side as the alternative. Who knew that the love of the family of this thieve would win over so many of the hearts of the crowd and momentarily overcome the being's numbing power? Who knew that mankind's ability to love by means of empathy would be its true saviour?

After the thieve was proclaimed as free, we set our eyes to the beast. We made it bleed to see if it secreted any clues, but our alchemists found an enigma with no resolution: its blood was human, but didn't carry any life. I ordered a handful of guards to angry the beast, to taunt him into attack and see how strong its power was against the protection of our Gods. The being didn't react however, his stance expressed weakness and relinquish; pity, I would've enjoyed to see a test of our Gods' powers.

We let it carry its cross over the hill, like any Jew, while many of its followers wallowed. Some helped, but the rest just watched. I don't understand the usefulness of such power: the only thing you can do with it is force people to praise and follow you, but not to protect you, that is left to their own will. This makes me believe that it is possible that this vampire wasn't fully matured and hadn't developed that part of his ability yet. If this is true, it was a fatal judgement on the timing of when to come to our plane; a simple, idiotic mistake. Mankind is truly lucky.

Some of my spies have reported some peasants describing a resurrection, which may appear to be worrisome, but precautions were taken. The guards watching over the cross of this being took the necessary steps, described in the Druids' tales, to kill a vampire: through a punctured heart. This "resurrection" story must be an invention of the peasants, trying to deviate some attention off from the beast onto them... it wouldn't be the first time.

I've been also informed that some followers "converted" to a new religion, having this being as their prophet with the name of Christ, or the Appointed One; appointed by who, I wonder. Others report that some "disciples" are starting to preach of a new, unifying god that has befallen over us, and that the recent earthquake is evidence of his anger towards the Roman empire.

I am not worried, in fact, I'm even amused by the whole thing. Our astronomers knew of such an earthquake, and laugh at the coincidence. I suspect that this following is just some residue of the being's power, and that this "Christianity" is just a fad that will die on its own in the coming years.

Similar and Details

2008-06-20T06:57:00.003+01:00

My thoughts began to wonder today of the similarity between you and me. I always thought that we were different: I was special, and that you are as well... but, then, everybody is and, thus, isn't.

So that thought came on to me today (well, frankly, for the last few days)... similar. Interesting, as that word is probably one of the most similarly used word throughout the world (it means the same thing in many languages). But as I turn around to you, I can only see differences: skin color, height, character, points of view, etc. We are different.

You see, that's the beauty of this word: it doesn't mean "equal", it's more like "not the same, but close enough". And that's exactly what we are, the rest are details; but it is on those details that wars are fought, genocide after genocide is justified, and blind-hatred is harvested. "God is in the details", they say. Coincidentally, I know of others that say "The devil is in the details". Minor detail, I suppose.

So they are important (ask the wife of a 20-year-old marriage that didn't get a Valentine's Day present if they are or not). Doesn't that tell you of the mass obsessive-compulsive disorder that we as a global community suffer? Those details are all minor, no two words about it: everything you see in others as different is minor, irrelevant, unimportant... at least they should be. The human body as a concept is so similar all over humanity that it is the sole reason we are considered as one species. If we go over to the thoughts section of the body, at the end of the day every human out there desires the same thing, just have different, conflicting ways to get there. Minor detail, I suppose.

Mayonnaise? Ketchup? Mass on Sunday? Prayer on Friday? It's been over 5,000 years, and we still haven't agreed on any of these? For the looks of it, it seems that we don't even want to. What is there to gain if we do come to an agreement? Peace? Guess that it isn't as much fun as seeing people getting tortured to "save" the other side.

"We're right, they're wrong. Stick with that story until you die."

What about "we're both wrong"? Because, I'm pretty sure none of us is right. We're human, we're bred to be wrong.

"I'm entitled to my opinion", yeah and it's wrong. There's always going to be something that you haven't considered, a detail you've overlooked; there lies the problem with everybody. For some reason, we've always assumed the other side knows the details that we know, and when they violate those details, an Inquisition of the Spanish kind takes place. It isn't their fault they don't know our details; in the most part, it's ours: we haven't been communicating them enough, or haven't got the vision of others needing to know them because we always think that our side is the 'normal', universal one. And, when the dust clears, the suspects are questioned/purified and the rest are exiled. The details are known, yes, but it's either too late (with nobody else there to applaud you) or too lame (killing any good argument you may have had).

So, we're both wrong.
Well, it's obvious how you're wrong: you're missing my A and B... How am I wrong?
... I'm missing your X and Y? You're kidding! Really? Hmm. Minor detail, I suppose.

The False Prophet

2008-05-23T04:26:00.002+01:00

He sat there with a grin in his face, "You see? That's why I'm here." He didn't budge, he just wrinkled his eyebrow in disbelief. "Fine. Don't believe me. Wait another four days, and you'll see what I mean." Finally giving up, he lowered his eyes to his coffee, "Okay, say I believe you. What are you proposing? Revolution? How can that make sense? You're trying to avoid a disaster, not start it." "You're not listening. Revolution as in change. If we start now, we could make it so that the end of your existence would never come", adding more cream to an almost empty glass. "Start what? I'm trying to listen, but you're just stating vague assumptions and doubtful facts, no specific action." "Vague assumptions? What is vague about complete and utter non-existence?" "That's not the point. You want to revolt people to avoid conflict. Don't you see the hypocrisy there?" "Ah, hypocritical am I? You sitting here waiting for death to happen, and then you judge me, the only sensible voice here trying to avoid it." "But what am I suppose to do to avoid it?!" "Speak up. Tell people what they are and what they need to be doing." "I'd be asking people to stand up to overthrow a divine leader." "In a way, yes, but not by hostile measures. And it would be to put a new, fairer divine plan in place and change the outcome of our repeating end. This is about universal justice: the memory of you will not be, and will continue to not be unless you do something about it." He pondered a bit, looked up and sighed acceptance.

The bar was as you'd expect a bar would be at five o'clock in the afternoon. He stood up and looked around to find a pair of eyes that would connect with his. A couple in the corner were already glaring at him with scarring judgement. He looked back with appreciative understanding, "This is the life you'll live in the next four days, but then: Puff! You want to change it? You'd be interested in doing so. If not, you, me, and the spiky haired freak at your side will cease to exist." The spiky haired freak rose up with anger on his forehead and a fist in his hand, "Excuse me, sir, but I don't think I heard you correctly. Did you just threaten me?" He stood his ground, without fear (to his surprise), "The threat is already here, my friend. Your trajectory in life is already in a downward spiral to an abyss. You're not doing what you're supposed to: change course!" His mind went blank.

He woke up in what seemed to be a hospital bed, and an earthquake of a head. A lady that seemed like a nurse came in, "My! Look who has woken up? You got one hell of a beating, sir. Have some aspirin, you're probably in dear need of it." She hands him a glass of water, barely touching his hand. "You've been the talk of the ICU; they're calling you the fortune teller." "What date is it?", he coughed. "You've been out for four days. Good timing, I'd say. I overheard the doctor say that, when you finally came to, you'll be asked to stay in the hospital a bit more time. Psychiatric care: doctors are not fond of all that talking-to-yourself thing. I guess it doesn't matter much now." "I wasn't... that was..." he looked closely at her. "Who are you?" "That doesn't matter, sir. Right now is your time of glory. Look out the window and see your prophecy come true. Wonderful, isn't it?"

He painfully turned his head to see a black shadow fall from the sky. He looked at the clock in front of him, ticking away. "There's time" he said. He started to wrestle out of the bed's sheets. "You might think that, but why spoil it? Isn't it beautiful? Just look at the magnificent treachery literally falling over this world! Man strives to be God pursuing His perfection. Ha! That emptiness there, my good sir, that is perfection." He looked again, and watched the shadow eating the horizon up in such a way that he began to forget what a horizon is; his eyes swelled with awe. "What are you doing? Stand! Go and start the revolution!" he exclaimed. "I can't... she's right: it's beautiful, it all makes sense now." She smiled and climbed up his bed to lay at his side, caressing his hair. "Look at it. Nothingness. Is this what you were trying to avoid? But, why? It's... it's... what is."

Silence came upon them both and their memories sucked into oblivion, never to be thought of again. Silence became inexistent, and any concept of noise and its absence was erased. Then the act of erasing was inexplicable. An explanation became inexistent. And to exist was not to exist.

A light appeared for nobody to see. "Time. There's always time," he said. "And you're not the only one that can hear me."

Genesis 0, aka Revelations 23

Pseudo-Code for a PhD

2008-04-15T16:44:00.004+01:00

//   Preamble    //
define interests = ['childhood dreams', 'tips of BA teachers', 'family know-how']
define max_wait_time = 10 days //change accordingly

list_of_possible_supervisors = new list()
list_of_answers = new list()
list_of_universities = new list()
do
   list_of_possible_universities = google(interests)
   for each (list_of_universities as university)
      list_of_possible_supervisors.add(university,interests)
   endfor
   for each (list_of_possible_supervisors as possible_supervisor)
      email(possible_supervisor, interests)
      possible_supervisor.initialise_wait_time()
   endfor
   //do polling of supervisor list
   do
      for each (list_of_possible_supervisors as possible_supervisor)
         feedback = check_email_from(possible_supervisor)
         if exist(feedback)
            redefine interests = change(interests, feedback)
            list_of_answers.add(answer(feedback))
            list_of_possible_supervisors.remove(possible_supervisor)
            if not exist(list_of_universities[possible_supervisor.university()])
               list_of_universities.add(possible_supervisor.university())
            endif
         elseif possible_supervisor.current_wait_time() > max_wait_time
            list_of_possible_supervisors.remove(possible_supervisor)
         endif
      endfor
   while list_of_possible_supervisors.count() > 0
while list_of_universities.count() > 0

//    Aplication phase    //
//Most of it is just for show: we all know at most 1 university answers back
for each list_of_universities as university
   application(university,list_of_answers.from_university(university))
   university.initialise_wait_time()
endfor
//poll each university response
list_of_accepted_letters = new list()
do
   for each list_of_universities as university
      response = check_mail_from(university)
      if exist(response) and response = 'accepted'
         list_of_accepted_letters.add(get_letter(response))
         list_of_universities.remove(university)
      elseif university.current_wait_time() > max_wait_time
         list_of_universities.remove(university)
      endif
   endfor
while list_of_universities.count() > 0
if list_of_accepted_letters.count() == 0
   return 'Failure. No applications accepted. Run again for another try.'
endif

//   Scholarship phase    //
//assuming you have a scholarship, and if you do, it's always just 1
//that you're eligible for
if not family_savings_ok()
   do
      if exists(feedback)
         redefine interests = change(interests, feedback)
      endif
      essay = write_essay(interests)
      [answer, feedback] = apply_to_scholarship (essay, list_of_accepted_letters)
   while answer == 'no'
   define soul = extract_from(interests)
   money = letter_from_scholarship(answer,soul)
   accepted_university = extract_from(feedback)
else
   money = beg_from_parents();
   accepted_university = extract_from(list_of_accepted_letters.random())
endif

//   First year   //
supervisor = meet_supervisor(university.supervisor)
project = remind(supervisor)
list_of_papers_to_read = extract_from(supervisor)
list_of_papers_read = new list()
do
   for each list_of_papers_to_read as paper
      list_of_papers_read.add(read(paper))
      list_of_papers_to_read.remove(paper)
      redefine interests = change(interests, paper)
      redefine project = change(project, interests, paper)
   endfor
   list_of_papers_to_read = send_to_supervisor(supervisor, list_of_papers_read)
while current_time() < 10 months
redefine project = extract_from(list_of_papers_read, project, interests)
first_year_report = write_report(list_of_papers_read,project)
feedback = first_year_viva(first_year_report, supervisor)
if feedback == 'fail'
   return 'Submit for an MPhil.'
endif
first_year_report = rewrite(first_year_report, feedback)

//   Second year   //
list_of_papers_to_write = extract_from(supervisor, first_year_report)
list_of_papers_written = new list()
list_of_publications = new list()
for each list_of_papers_to_write as paper
   list_of_papers_to_read = extract_from(paper)
   list_of_papers_read = new list()
   do
      for each list_of_papers_to_read as paper
         list_of_papers_read.add(read(paper))
         list_of_papers_to_read.remove(paper)
         redefine interests = change(interests, paper)
         redefine project = change(project, interests, paper)
      endfor
      list_of_papers_to_read = send_to_supervisor(supervisor, list_of_papers_read)
   while list_of_papers_to_read.count() > 0
   paper.introduction = extract_from(list_of_papers_read)
   paper.rest = extract_from(project, interests, ass)
   cry()
   journal = find_journal(paper, supervisor, project)
   if exists(journal)
      pray()
      feedback = submit_to(journal,paper)
      if exist(feedback)
         do
            paper = rewrite(paper, feedback)
            feedback = submit_to(journal,paper)
         while current_time() < journal.publishing_date()
         list_of_publications.add(paper)
      endif
   endif
   list_of_papers_written.add(paper)
endfor
second_year_report = write_report(first_year_report,list_of_papers_written,project)
if current_time() < 2 years
   road_trip()
   start_a_band()
   play_world_of_warcraft()
   sleep()
   read(second_year_report)
endif
feedback = second_year_viva(second_year_report, supervisor)
if feedback == 'fail'
   return 'Submit for an MPhil.'
endif
second_year_report = rewrite(second_year_report, feedback)

//   Third year   //
while list_of_publications.count() == 0
   for each list_of_papers_written as paper
      journal = find_journal(paper, supervisor, project)
      if exists(journal)
         pray()
         feedback = submit_to(journal,paper)
         if exist(feedback)
            do
               paper = rewrite(paper, feedback)
               feedback = submit_to(journal,paper)
            while current_time() < journal.publishing_date()
            list_of_publications.add(paper)
         endif
      endif
endwhile
thesis.introduction = extract_from(list_of_papers_read,second_year_report)
thesis.rest = write_thesis(list_of_publications)
feedback = phd_viva(thesis, supervisor, supervisor.external_examiner)
if feedback == 'fail'
   return 'Submit for an MPhil.'
else
   thesis = rewrite(thesis, feedback)
   return 'Congratulations, Dr. You'
endif

If you actually read all the way to here, and found the error in there, you my friend are sick!

Un año mas, un año menos

2008-04-02T13:14:00.000+01:00

It has been a year... so? What's changed?

I'm in a relationship that has challenged me to not only fulfill the part that lies in my responsability and that I usually am not able to meet, but to also commit to a long-distance situation that is famous for its difficulty. However, it has sustained me, I don't know how, but if it wasn't for it, I would probably be lost (more so than I am right now); I tend to be a loner, and seeing myself relying and pursuing the oral company of someone is not something that I'd expect. At the same time, it's not a question of reliability, as being so far away there is so much that someone can do to help. It is a matter of reflection, of feedback (ironically, me in the Control Engineering side); we're a mirror of each other, with all its caveats: I talk like a madman (yes, that hasn't changed) and she's the silent type; I'm more in the commercial arts, while she's more underground; I'm a techy, she's a bio; I don't read, while she loves it; I'm a raging thundershower, she's a spring breeze; I'm a know-it-all, while she actually does. Yet, we click, we nod in the same direction... Thank you Carmen, I love you.

I'm a fullblown PhD student now, with all its glory and stress. I am getting the hang of it though, little by little. I've found that is a matter for persistance, not in the work part, but in the planning. Knowing what to do today and the next day is always comforting. That, and waking up early really helps to get over stuff quickly.

Finally, I'm still here; I'm still going at it. I guess that's the thing that I should be most grateful for. I just hope I'm going about this the right way.

A sense of wonder, the joy of day, and glory of self, all smiling concur with the sound insane.

... Sort Of

2008-03-23T01:29:00.000Z

I've waited much this day, and work's completed... sort of. I always tend to describe a phase of my life by a phrase, and this past few months have been exactly that: "sort of". Everything is closer than being finished than ever before (which, logically, it always is, but that's a topic for another time), and there's a blinking light at the end of the tunnel. Blinking, unfortunately, so it may be just a figment of my imagination, which from grading my own sanity, it might probably well be.

For those that have endured my weird, non-constant, non-periodical ramblings, and care at least a little for it: you may ask yourself, "How is this any different than before?" If you haven't asked yourself that, you might want to ponder it now... don't worry... I'll wait...

... The difference is that there's no turning back now. I'm more than halfway there, it feels like it. If I know myself as well as I think I do, I know that I won't leave this unresolved; pride is one part, fear is another. Yes, fear. You see, my mum is quite the silent psychic; once she just felt that I needed to bring an extra pair of shoes to a holiday trip to a place that unexpectedly had strong showers. I think I had some of that passed on to me, as I'm always thinking "Five years from now, I'm going to regret not finishing this, being so close to it." And it is true; not the best reason to finish it I suppose, but it does the job.

It's an acquired taste this research thing, and it has been a weird path to acquire it. I'm not too sure that I've acquired it completely though; I hope that the other half of the path takes care of that.

So here I go, ready to jump in this next part, and see it through the end... sort of.

Who is screwing who?

2008-03-10T00:58:00.002Z

I live under a rock, apparently. No wait, I live in the United Kingdom (which may actually qualify as being under a rock). And I just came across the most hideous way to tell your partner you're screwing someone else:

It gets even better in the strike back:

Funny, yes, but what impresses me the most is the kind of pull that this Jimmy Kimmel has! His show is nice (I've watched it a couple of times in YouTube), but it isn't that nice. Just goes to show you how far a guy can go to hurt the people he has been betrayed by.

And for the record, I know it's a gag... well, I hope it's a gag, for the good of the little dignity that Hollywood and all of the invited guests have.

A Dream

2008-02-12T08:00:00.000Z

Children talk about what they want to be when they 'grow up'; dreams of yonder, and sighs of tomorrow. Unfortunately, they don't realize that it implies one little thing: growing up. A dream is affected by situations and external factors that change it, corrupt it. A dream is an innocent thing when being child, even noble sometimes (a firemen, a doctor, an astronaut), just like a child. Then, through the process of growing up, that dream grows up too. It changes: "Well, maybe not a firemen, too dangerous, why not a chemical engineer? I can still deal with fire and maybe save some lives." Then it comes to the point that it's possible that the dream, when grown up, is a completely different dream with a completely different objective then what it had when it was born... just like us.

I don't have or done many things to be proud of. Being an only child was a crutch that until very recently have I been taking away, and I'm not known as being ambitious. But I do have one thing: my dream.

As I stood there, 12 years old, in front of 30 or so parents and teachers, I recited my speech. It was for a grade for the Oral Communication class, about a week or two before I graduated from junior high. I felt a sudden stroke of steadiness in me while I was shaking like a mad man. I had my notes on my hand and the group in front of me. I started. The topic was about my top ten most influential persons; I don't remember them all, although I do believe I included the persons who helped cleaned the school as one of the top ones (I liked talking to them). Everybody was looking at me, not with the comfortless stare that I was accustomed at the beginnings of puberty, but with interest and surprising wonder. I loved it, and I craved it from then on.

I found myself directing small study groups where it was mostly me over at the blackboard explaining a problem, or everybody gathered around me and my laptop seeing how to debug lines of code. My geekiness strived around the fact that it didn't really matter if I masterfully knew the subject that I was talking about, it was about how well I transmitted what I knew about it that made the difference. Einstein, although a great mind, was a terrible teacher because he didn't know how to conduct himself in front of a group of persons.

It was during my high school years that I confirmed my dream, my 'What am I Going to Be When I Grow Up?' story: I want to be a teacher. It hasn't changed after high school; no matter what has happened around me, it just keeps getting harder and harder to steer me away from it. It also really doesn't matter if I'm in a school or not (although, I rather be in one), while for an hour or so I'm in front of a group of people and they grant me that beautiful "Oh! So, that's how it's done." And some decades later, I receive the news that one of my students made it big and became a teacher, and loves it as much as me.

Such is my everlasting dream, and tis' I: the dreamer.

Using a Motorola L6 to Connect a Powerbook G4 to the Internet by UK T-Mobile

2008-02-07T03:17:00.003Z

EDIT: Sept. 5, 2009. The information presented in this post is possibly out of date. Specifically, the dial-up telephone number is suspected to have been suspended by T-Mobile UK. For information on how to use this same mobile as a GPRS-capable modem in Snow Leopard (Mac OS 10.6), please read this other post.

I've always liked the idea of being able to connect to the Internet from anywhere. I'm a PhD student after all, the Internet is my life now. The problem is when I'm not near a Wireless Hotspot or an Ethernet port. Cellular Signals are the next best thing: my mobile here in the U.K. has Bluetooth, my Powerbook G4 has Bluetooth. There should be a way to use my phone as a sort of modem for the laptop. Well, yes, apparently there is.

It took some time to figure out, not because it was difficult, but because T-Mobile (my carrier) doesn't give a lot of information for the appropriate setting to make this happen.

As it says on the title of this post, I used a Motorola L6 phone. My Powerbook G4 has Mac OS X 10.4.11 installed. No other software was needed.

First, I paired the phone with the laptop. It's a pretty straighforward process, I just needed to turn on Bluetooth on the Mac and on the phone and make it be discoverable. During such process though, it was important for the Mac to know that it can use the phone as a modem; almost at the end it asks such question. It can use the phone as a modem in two ways; the Motorola L6 and T-Mobile work with GPRS, so that option should be checked.

After that, it will ask for what script/driver to use and other information that T-Mobile for some reason doesn't make public, but I found them and I know for a fact that they work.

Script/Driver: Motorola iR TimePort (7089). (This one took a long while to uncover...)
Telephone Number: +447953968999
Account Name: user
Password: wap

Before you hit that "Connect" button, though, go to Systems Preferences, make it show the Bluetooth settings. Then, under the PPP tab, click on PPP Options and uncheck "Use TCP header compression". Apparently, it doesn't like it when the header is compressed, complains about it quite a lot in the logs to the point that it crashes the pppd process, leaving the device unreachable afterwards (something about failing to open the device file, because of permissions).

Also, be aware that even though I can now potentially connect to the Internet anywhere there is a cellular signal, it is very slow (took almost half a minute to pull up Google.com) and very costly (it is making a call after all) so, even though it's a nice choice for connectivity, it should just be a very nice last choice.

Light

2008-01-30T06:42:00.000Z

I frequently find myself analyzing what I'm doing and where I'm going. Unfortunately, I also find myself not doing much about it, because it turns out that, as I've seen in myself the past few weeks, I'm a very complicated being. I carry baggage, a lot of baggage. I blame this baggage for what I am, good and bad, but I think it's time I put it to rest:

"The thing with Julia and Hugo screwed me over." No it didn't, I screwed me over. I had nothing to do with this, I'm not part of their life, and they're not part of mine. We're not the threesome that we once were, but I wanted us to still be it, badly; it was me all along making my life miserable, not them... they're them and I'm me. It was nice when it was there, but now it's not, and finally I have come to the understanding that it's nobody's fault. People change, they carry on with their lives; I can't expect for them to freeze in their place while I carry on with mine. Even more so considering that they had each other for so long: it was bound to happen, and I'm truly happy for them. Congratulations if you're reading.

"Juarez will always be my home." No... Hugo was the only thing binding me to that city. Even before I left for Manchester, I knew that the house where I have lived in since I was 5 years old wasn't my house anymore, it's my parent's home. I moved to Queretaro and that was my home for a while, now I'm in Manchester and that will be my home for a while. After that? Well, that's for God to know and for me to find out... however, Queretaro seems nice enough.

"I will always be the 'lonely' one." No, Carmen has proven to be the best thing that has happened to me for a long while. If I feel lonely it's because of my own thoughts and needs, I've chosen to feel this way and I think it suits me. It's good to feel lonely, it gives opportunity for introspection and makes the time which I don't feel lonely much, much better: thank you for the time we spent together, baby, I know you're reading (coincidentally, "Wish you were here (Balkce Version)" just came up in iTunes).

Hate, intolerance... it's all baggage. I never thought that blame on others was too, but it is. Makes you think: "feeling light" may actually be a double entendre...

RIAA Satire

2008-01-09T08:47:00.001Z

I hate it when people come up with funny, genius stuff before I do:

RIAA Declares Using Brain to Remember Songs is Criminal Copyright Infringement (satire)

I loved some of the comments as well: some people thought this was actually true. Unfortunately, it may not only be that the commentators are gullible. As the pace that we're seeing the RIAA handle so-called 'copyright infringement', waving the banner of 'protecting the artist' when they're really just protecting their pockets, this feels eerily possible. Being gullible or not, it's frightening just to think that this may happen someday.

Dave Chappelle's Best Joke

2007-12-18T02:04:00.000Z

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

2007-12-09T04:01:00.001Z

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

2007-10-17T00:41:00.000+01:00

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

2007-10-04T01:06:00.000+01:00

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

2007-09-07T14:19:00.000+01:00

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:

Good security starts with design, not something you slap on.

Good security is easy to use, security that is not easy to use does not get used.

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

2007-08-18T03:53:00.000+01:00

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

2007-08-03T07:34:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-14T14:34:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-11T21:39:00.000+01:00

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

2007-07-01T13:24:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-28T20:55:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-27T20:52:00.001+01:00

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

2007-06-25T19:06:00.000+01:00

"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...

2007-06-14T11:57:00.000+01:00

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

2007-06-11T02:03:00.001+01:00

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

2007-06-06T13:11:00.000+01:00

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

2007-05-16T23:37:00.001+01:00

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

2007-05-13T10:49:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-25T00:42:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-24T00:48:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-17T10:08:00.000+01:00

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

2007-04-10T21:24:00.000+01:00

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...

2007-04-02T18:53:00.000+01:00

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

2007-03-04T14:24:00.000Z

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...

2007-03-01T02:32:00.000Z

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

2007-02-27T02:14:00.000Z

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.

NIN has made the impossible

2007-02-26T23:41:00.000Z

This is me... without words...

Social Networking and Me

2007-02-26T04:36:00.000Z

I finally succumbed to it: I am now socially networked. People can find me and sing "Happy Days" because of it.

I'm uploaded and it feels somewhat comfortable.

I decided that this blog will be the center of my networked self... my soul, if you will. So, I did some redecorating, with some help from Blogger/Blogspot new templates, hope you like it. If everything goes well, maybe the list of readers will go up from three to, I don't know, five? six? One can only be so lucky, hehe. And if it does, I want the place to look nice. The blue background with gray letters theme was getting too uptight and it actually hurted my eyes when reading it for long periods of time; considering the length of some of my posts, it would've had to be dealt with at some point anyway.

Next, I checked in the obvious places for a start: Hi5 and MySpace. I already have profiles in both of them (see my links section on the sidebar), so there a source of inspiration and a source of copying and pasting for the other profiles I was about to open.

I also decided to put a link to my C.V. here. I already had it since around September 2006 up on my personal pages area that the University of Manchester gave me to play around with. I figured putting my C.V. up there seemed logical and so does linking it here: big change.

Then came the two big ones: Facebook and Twitter.

I still don't know what Facebook is. I know it has something to do with social networking, but its potential makes it much more than that. The possibility of uploading photos and pointing out who is actually in them was quite an interesting and elegant use of the MAP tag that I thought was going to be lost to deprecation. Naturally I found a couple of friends that I hadn't spoken to in ages, and I think I basically used everything I could from the site.

Unfortunately my mobile is based in the UK so no messaging from or to Facebook is going to be possible for now, and the emails for confirming my University's email took almost 8 hours to get to my inbox, making the process a little boring. I did my badge and put it up in here; I know, it's quite small, without a lot of information. The thing is that I didn't find a lot of options which I felt comfortable posting in a website and putting out there for our friends the phishers. If anybody should want to look further into me, I suggest that you go into Facebook for more info. I think I have pretty much anything you want to know about me in there (even this blog is being fed in there), and at the same time I feel protected. The badge does have my most recent photo uploads which I find nice to the eye, and, if you click on the photo, it will take to the original upload (after you log in, of course).

I did another badge with more information, but in a dynamic image (more difficult to phish off from); both of these options are given by Facebook itself, by the way. I might add it to my email or forum signatures, although I'm not quite convinced of using it yet. The fact that this little image is going to contact the Facebook servers everytime somebody reads one of my emails or forum posts doesn't really scream efficiency for the reader.

Another thing that I found, at first, interesting was that I could post a status message (sleeping, reading, at school, etc.), but I have to log in to Facebook to change it which is kind of a drag when you want to change it several times a day.

Enter Twitter... it's basically that feature but with much more ways to update it: from the webpage, messaging to an IM bot, or, the one that blew my mind, by texting to an specific number here in the UK. And it's free, which is always nice. If you click on the 'status' on the "More About Me" section, it will bring you to my Twitter section that'll show you all the differents status that I've posted. Basically, if there's a stalker out there, I'm doing the stalking for them: hey, remember, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, hehe, (I have to see that movie!)...

Happy days indeed.

14/02

2007-02-13T00:29:00.000Z

Be wary, be wary, be wary
that on the glimpse of an eye,
the 14th of February,
yours truly, myself, and I
will write the obituary
of who speak "Happy Valentine!".

Plan on loving and caring?
Are you willing to love and die
for those with you're sharing
smiles, chocolates and sighs?

Smiles, chocolates and sighs...
Are you really that blind?

Yes, to love is merry,
but just this once? I query.

All other days to comply,
no espectacle to carry.
Why now? Are you that shy
you need candy berries
to speak of yearn and cry?
How vaine, "How weary!".
You child with no pride.

Had enough of this wry?
Why?
You, this gift, don't like,
but empty hearts you invite?

From this you I'm saving,
of false love and caring.
Give on the first of February
or March or January,
and the gift I'm sharing
will be sweeter than cherries.

Wait for the flock to find
a void way to sell diary
and you'll have to bind
with dirty milk from Larry.

Gift from the heart and mind,
when it feels like the time,
and even just a note of "Hi!"
will value more than shine...

Vancouver

2007-01-17T22:01:00.000Z

Karla, a cousin of mine, sponsored by my parents, took the opportunity to study english in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Because she still isn't that confident with her english, and the whole flight process in the U.S.A. can be quite daunting, I helped her out to get her to Canada... and yes, I also took the opportunity to vacation a little bit from my vacations/work in Juarez.

To tell the tale of the whole flight delight, delays, broken planes, etc. wouldn't be much fun, and will undermine the whole purpose of the trip: to wish Karla well. I will, anyway, point you to my PicasaWeb Album "Vancouver" with around 100 pictures of my stay.

Beautiful city, by the way: when we got there it had just snowed, so, although it was cold as hell, there were tiny spots of white all over the city's downtown, decorating it elegantly. I met with another cousin of mine, Jesus or Chuyito (Karla's brother), to sightsee for three days. We walked like crazy, my feet still hurt, but it was well worth it.

I only missed two little things from the whole experience: the Capilano Suspension Bridge was closed for repairs and ... no Apple Store! I forgot that the only Apple Stores in Canada are located in Toronto.

All and all: very nice, I hope I can come back one day and get to know more of the city.

Karla: I wish you the best for the next six months =)

Snow... all over again

2007-01-02T18:18:00.000Z

It's snowing... it's been a long while since I haven't seen snow in Juarez (I'm over here on vacations). I thought I forgot how it looked like, but at the first sign of it, I knew it was the beginning of snow.

If I remember correctly, the last time I saw snow was around the Christmas parties or New Year's before I moved to Queretaro: 2001? Wow, six years just flew by.

I miss everybody here, but haven't got the opportunity or will to come out of bed. I'm a little bit sick, so that works as a good excuse to not do anything. I get why I'm using it to not work: it's the holidays, I'm genuinely tired to do anything, and, well, I'm a lazy ass, so there. But, to not see them, I don't know, I guess I don't want to get in there again, maybe just Hugo would be nice, but if I see him, I'm probably going to see her, which would be nice too, but I know it would just suck when we we're over it. I'm still feeling that, god damn it, and I can't help it, I've really tried to ignore it, but it just keeps coming back. I wonder if this is how my love life's going to be from now on: in love with memories, in love with her back then...

It's weird, though. I'm concient of it, doesn't that require a little maturity? I thought I've already grown up, apparently not. I'm still seventeen, but without her. I guess this is how it would've felt... I guess I should be grateful for that... I guess that, yes, this is my love life from now on.

My cousin, Jonathan, is planning to get married this time next year. I'm probably the only one in both of my parent's families who's not involved with someone right now. Maybe, I hope, this' a blessing in disguise: because of my life right now, I don't think a relationship would actually fit in there. Not because I'm too busy (God knows that I can find the time), but because of my plans: probably the same reason why I didn't pursue anything in Queretaro after her (God, I can't even pronounce her name!).

It is working, though. The move to England, I mean. I feel stressed out, of course, when haven't felt that? But because of other issues. It still not as clear as I would like it to be. It still scares me as hell of what I'm going to do about the scholarship money, and, if I get it, what to do after my studies there. But, they are new fears, new bacteria to take the place of the old, much more devastating one. Replacing work for love... and I'm starting to have friends over there, few, but interesting (like always). And Hugo is still there like he always has been...

Damn... Julia is a tough act to follow... (and believe me, this last sentence took a lot out of me).

Rant 2006-12-21: Lincoln, Irak and Quoting

2006-12-21T00:37:00.000Z

Notes before reading:
*For an explanation on how this rant is organized, please: read this.
*This rant is posted in this thread, under "Privacy only goes so far...", then "too many people are ready to accept erosion...", then "You will have a lot less freedom once America...", then "Terrorist will never destroy this country...", then "'Whereas, it has become necessary to...", and finally "Wonder why he was..." Sorry, Wired.com commentary section is kinda weird, I'll post the relevant parts here.
*The discussion is about an article that talks about USA's government practices during 2006 (like imprisoned journalists, torture and the Patriot Act).
- The conversation turned from the war to quoting... I don't know what to think anymore, hehe.
- A guy that goes by the name of Pacothelovemonkey posted the following as a response for the article:

Privacy only goes so far.. We are at war here and a lot of people forget that. I don't know what kind of a person you are but clearly you have no idea what has to be done to win. It seems by you anger about all these 'violations of civil liberties' you don't' care for us to win. I don't know where your head is, or what you are thinking or if you have any real idea what is going on in the world. I hope one day you can open you eyes and realize that the with our great president tapping everyone's phones (he's not get over it) to catch people trying to kill us isn't a bad thing. He's not arresting you for hate him, or hugging a tree. He's doing the right thing. Which is more then I can say about (the little) i know about you.

- Then jayh replied:

too many people are ready to accept erosion of our constitutional and moral standards while the sit around and munch their 'freedom fries'

I believe in freedom. I believe in the America envisioned by the founders, who realized that in the long run, the unrestrained state itself is a serious danger. I do not accept sacrificing freedom or our lowering our standards of behavior (torture etc) because some people are scared.

- Then mmichaels1970 said:

You will have a lot less freedom once America has been destroyed by our enemies who are using sympathies like yours against us. The founders didn't envision their citizens sitting by while our enemies plotted to blow us up and manipulate our legal system to enable them to do so.

- To which jdiaz1 beautifully responded with:

Terrorist will never destroy this country. The country will destroy itself by feeding the fear. Turn on your TV and it's Fear 24-7. People forgot what this country great. Turning over our sacred rights and making America a police state will not make you safe.

"Those who give up liberty for the sake of security deserve neither liberty nor security."

Benjamin Franklin

- But the same mmichaels1970 came back with the next Lincoln quote during the Civil War:

"Whereas, it has become necessary to call into service not only volunteers but also portions of the militia of the States by draft in order to suppress the insurrection existing in the United States, and disloyal persons are not adequately restrained by the ordinary processes of law from hindering this measure and from giving aid and comfort in various ways to the insurrection;

Now, therefore, be it ordered, first, that during the existing insurrection and as a necessary measure for suppressing the same, all Rebels and Insurgents, their aiders and abettors within the United States, and all persons discouraging volunteer enlistments, resisting militia drafts, or guilty of any disloyal practice, affording aid and comfort to Rebels against the authority of United States, shall be subject to martial law and liable to trial and punishment by Courts Martial or Military Commission:

Second. That the Writ of Habeas Corpus is suspended in respect to all persons arrested, or who are now, or hereafter during the rebellion shall be, imprisoned in any fort, camp, arsenal, military prison, or other place of confinement by any military authority of by the sentence of any Court Martial or Military Commission.

In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand, and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.

Done at the City of Washington this twenty fourth day of September, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-two, and of the Independence of the United States the 87th."

ABRAHAM LINCOLN

Rant:
Wonder why he was assassinated?

That political move was very difficult for him, and the Civil War was a heavy weight over his shoulders. A lot of chaos happenned, and, was it necessary? I certainly don't know, but the hit in America because of it is still felt throughout the South. It's a big scar, to say the least, caused by an abandon of a principle for an apparent greater truth: they were at war back then in their own soil, battling at face level, chaos was everywhere. Lincoln needed to act quickly to recover peace, and he did at a great expense.

You say you're at war, war against what? Do you see your enemy's face? Do you know who your enemy is? If you answered 'yes' to any of these questions, the fear has brought you to a belief of despair that isn't really there, and your government is the only one to blaim for that. Yes, you may be attacked at any time (the probability of such, although infinitely slim, is still there, so, fine, I'll give you that one); what happenned in the World Trade Center was a complete tragedy and abomination, but that isn't the first time it has happenned, and you don't have to go back that far to realize the enormity of the amount of terrorist attacks you have received throughout your history which were also tragedies and abominations. But those attacks back then were dealt in a manner that was up to the circumstances: dignified and not blown out of proportion (pardon the pun). There are scumbags out there who take their religion/beliefs too seriously, and only a small group of them speak arabic. They do not represent a country, they represent a way of thinking, which, like the Ku Kux Klan, is extremist: they won't be eliminated by war, if you kill one, the children, spouses, brothers, sisters, etc. will become extremist as well (eye for an eye, and everybody ends up blind). I have no clue how Irak came into the picture here; how this small country was suddenly the target because of the "terrorist threat that dwellt within it" makes as much sense as beating the crap out of a guy because he MAY have cancer.

The renounce of a principle so basic as Habeas Corpus and the right to privacy has to be called for as the very last resource during a war (as Lincoln did, and payed with his life for it), but this administration threw it out the window in the first few months! And you caved, spewing out the same argument your government told you to spew: "We're at war. It's necessary." No, you're not. No, it isn't. War is bilateral, war is chaos, war is fear down your throat by the enemy: veterans out there must be so hurt when people around them scream this kind of bull without knowing what a war is. What you need to be doing, instead of worrying about what principles to give up to win the war (how stupid does that sound?!), is to be weary of the persons that are fighting FOR you, y'know, the persons that are over there, overcoming a real fear (death) of a real threat (a hidden bomb), under the unfortunate impression that they are there preserving your freedom, which over here you're flushing down the toilet because of a make-believe fear of a make-believe threat. Pray for them, ask God (and your government) to give them the tools to pass through what they're dealing with and have them come back safely soon; either that, or just shut the hell up.

I'm Mexican, by the way... shame that a person like me has to point that out for you.

mmichaels1970's Reply:
Wow. That quote must have touched a nerve. Considering I only posted it verbatim and provided no opinion, you must be a psychic.

My point is that people are too quick to throw quotes around like those that are alleged to come from people like Benjamin Franklin (see http://www.futureofthebook.com/stories/storyReader$605 for some good research, in my opinion).

By the way, the quote I provided was accurate. For every quote someone can attribute to an American hero, another can be found from someone who is arguably just as or more heroic.

My Reply:
Hehe, yes it did. Although, the reply wasn't just for the quote, but for your previous post as well (I thought I made that clear in there, sorry for that). And in your previous post you did provide an opinion which I was commenting about, which goes along the same way of thinking of paco and others here, so it's for them as well (and I really didn't made that clear, apologies).

Anyway, I agree about your point about people throwing quotes. I understand that Benjamin Franklin himself in a letter to David Hulme actually wrote that it wasn't his quote at all; some people believe that Richard Jackson it's the author (yeah, wikipedia rocks!). This is probably also stated in the link you provided, but I couldn't read anything in it as it failed to open.

And you are correct about "For every quote someone can attribute to an American hero, another can be found from someone who is arguably just as or more heroic", because people think differently, specially in different eras. Throwing quotes around is not a way to argument a point and it shouldn't be perceived as such, is just for dramatic purposes, really.

Furthermore, there's the case in which they don't even make sense! For example, as an argument against war, I can throw something like:

"To place any dependence upon militia, is, assuredly, resting upon a broken staff."
- George Washington, 1776

And you, argumenting for it, can throw it back at me with:

"Without a decisive naval force we can do nothing definitive. And with it, everything honorable and glorious."
- George Washington, 1781

BOTH ARE FROM THE SAME PERSON! And then we'll both say "what the f...?" The thing is that a person, being heroic or not, changes throughout their life (those quotes are five years apart), and you can't expect that they will think the same way from their birth till their death: rendering the whole concept of quoting as an argument useless.

The only way that it may be useful is to provide the historical context of the quote (which I tried to give to the one you provided from Lincoln, in my last post). But, as you may have seen, to provide it while argumenting is not only very impractical, but also kills the drama that you may want to build with the quote, so what's the use?

So, yeah, agreed, hehe... when I start writing, I can't find a way to stop, sorry =P

New song: lwb, and sorry!

2006-12-19T01:07:00.000Z

Hi,

Just a brief announcement: there's a new song for the demo called 'lwb' that you can download from my box.net public share. It's number 14, kinda short, but nice. Comment away!

Also, sorry for the last post... had a weird day, little sleep, and noone to say "what the hell are you writing?" and stop me. Although, there's a weird sense of logic in there, I don't know, I'll keep it around just in case, hehe.

Weird Sleeping Numbers

2006-12-18T19:12:00.000Z

Just three more days... just three letters. Mum says hi, dad says "good job", and I say "lot to do". Having some interesting advances, some interesting chat with supervisor and advisor that leads me to believe that I know nothing... well, no, something, but close to nothing, but the little that I know is actually kinda useful; who would've thought? Smelly, but useful...
Control control control... math math math... AI AI AI... just three... or three squared: three in a box, you might say, but the box may not be squared, there are round boxes, hexagonal ones, and collateral damage ones (DHL uses this last ones, btw), so no, three squared is not the same that three in a box, but it's kinda like an uptight three, y'know, those threes that don't think outside the box (being square, round, hexagonal or collateral), so, if you think about it, yeah: three squared may be the same as a three inside a box (look at me, contradicting and all), but not because of the type of box, is because of the social elements that the three is given because of being inside the box...

Ironically, the four may be quite confused by all of this because, well, it is by nature a square number, but it's not inside a box, so it may be thinking "what the hell, three? what you doin' inside a box?" (yeah, four also has a little boston accent) "there's no way you can be square!" but the three can answer:

3: "f**k you, four! i can be square and you know it: you have your two, i have 1.732"
4: "that's ludacris! sing us a song, ludacris"
ludacris: "yo yo yo! i don't wana be part of any of this"
4: "fine... three, i need the consent from one, seven, three and two (that whore) to know if what you said is correct, but it seems that it isn't, i mean four (me! yay) numbers to be your root... i dunno"
3: "you're just racist, four. you may think you come from a pure race (just 2's) but there are others numbers out there that come from different background, a lovely mixture of races to form a wonderful rainbow of numbers. isn't that right, 5?"
5: (eating chocolate) "yeah... sorry to dissapoint, but 2.236 is my root, and well, i have to say i was kinda ashamed of it, but not anymore... thank you, three!"
3: "no problem"
4: "you're from two as well??? oh my god! i... i... i'm whore squared!"
8: "uhmmm... can i interject a little bit?"
3: "i think you have just answered you're own question, eight..."
8: "oh, hehe, right... anyway, if i remember correctly, this whole issue began with three wanting to be squared, not with three wanting to be a square number, so it's kinda pointless if you think about it."
3: "oh crap... where's nine? i need to get to 9, before..."
9: "hello three... we need to talk... you say you come from 1, 7, 3, and that little whore 2... does that mean that i don't come from a pure race? that being 3's? mmm?? that i come from little 1's and 7's as well? because i don't recall having a 7 as a grandpa, do you?? that's... that's just wrong! is like having a 6 as your dad!" (shivers)
6: "hey! i resent that!"
5: "nobody cares, and noone listens to you, six... so shut up, come here and let's a make a thirty!"

(scene cut because of unsuitable math for children... hehe, gives a whole other meaning to the symbol: * doesn't it? hehe...)

3: "uh... damn you eight!! my whole purpose in life was to become a square number, and you come and... and... for god sake's six, cover your hole! no wonder nobody cares about you... and watch your thirties, now they're everywhere!" (picks up one of them)
3: "aren't they little nice thirties, though? i don't know, they kinda look like me, don't they?" (little tear coming out of his, uhmm, well, don't know really, haven't seen a three cry before)
3: "you aren't a square number either, are you little thirty?"
30: "what's square? like a four? iou!! no! wouldn't want to be square if i'm like four!"
8: "hahaha... good point, you see three? there's no need to be square, because you can always be squared, and nobody would give a rat's ass where you come from, you are the one that everybody else is coming from... cool, isn't it?"

three, the little thirty and eight, and everyone else is happy with the situation, except for four... four has something up his, well, not sleeve, cuz, if you think about it they're all naked, but, ok, four 'has a secret' (better, isn't it?) that's about to be revealed:

4: (trembling) "don't listen to eight! he's not to be trusted... you fools, he interjected without giving me the chance to say 'no', he's like a vampire, you see... like the devil, confusing you with logic, but you seem to forget something about his nature that makes him unworthy of our trust... you may dislike me because i come from that little whore two, what is it you call me? whore squared? ok... but eight is... haha, eight is..." (suspenseful pause... which isn't really, I mean, you can just skip this sentence and end the suspense, but you aren't... do you like suspense that much that you're willing to read all this rubbishness for it? you're wierd! are you aware of the freakishness that resides in you?? my god, you... you make me sick!)

4: "EIGHT'S WHORE CUBED!!!" (gasps from everybody)
3: "is it true, eight? you have being lying to me all this time? not only that you come from that little whore, but you, of all numbers here, are the only one cubed???"
8: (crying) "IT'S TRUE! but it wasn't my fault, i swear! it was four's fault, he's... he's my father! and HE MULTIPLIED WITH TWO!" (everybody groans in disgust)
6: (fainting)
5: (vomiting)
3: "c'mon five, these were a new pair of shoes!"
7: "alright! who f**ked two again? four? nailed the grandma! alright! here are some antibodies if it starts itching." (oh yeah, seven's a perv)
4: "damn you eight! that was our secret! that drunken night... i thought it was five, i swear! damn mirrors!"
5: "hey hey! don't even think of coming up with some similarities between me and that little whore... yes, i admit, it is somewhere in my root, but that's all... god, it makes me shiver just to think about it!"

2: "ENOUGH! i've had it up to here with your 'little whore' this, 'little whore' that... i'm not little, i'm not a whore... i just like multiplying, that's all! is that such a crime? you do it everyday!"
1: "uhmmm... honey? can we go back... i'm getting the urge, hihi."

everybody: "IOUUUUUU!!!"
5: "two's doing grand grandma!!!"
7: "now that's sick!"
4: (vomiting)
3: "jesus! why does everybody turn my way when they're puking!"

1: "what? it's not like i haven't multiplied with any of you before!!!"

(crickets singing)

everybody, silent, went back to their houses... and a whole lota 12's and 20's and 42's and 24's and 18's and 15's and 21's and 45's and 9's and 8's and 7's and 6's and 5's and 4's and 3's and 2's and even little 1's (yes, apparently that's also possible) came out the next day and said "MULTIPLY YOU!!!"

Prayer

2006-12-07T22:59:00.000Z

Does prayer change the outcome of things? I mean, if it's God's will, why would a prayer change anything if it's already written down?

I am free to do as I wish: I can go crash my car if I want to. There's nothing stopping me, except if I fall down the stairs or can't find my keys; pretty random stuff, you know? But there lies God's hand, blessed randomness: if something would happen on this Earth by his will, it won't happen by a big ass hand coming down from the sky and stealing my keys, he has to work through already existing in this world (like a programmer, using other programs or circuitry to interact with the operating system).

He built you, he knows you, and prayer is a two way communication. Prayer is not going to change the world to do your bidding (and nothing's written yet), but it's going to change YOU to do your bidding, and that does change the outcome of things. It's not God will the one that changes through prayer (he wants you to do good, period, he doesn't concern himself with mortal problems), it's your will that changes.

[click the title... interesting read... =)]

"Gobierno" Mexicano

2006-11-23T22:58:00.000Z

Lo que estoy por escribir tiene que ver de mi patria, por lo que escribirlo en español me suena mas apropiado.

Siempre trato de escuchar y leer todo lo que puedo sobre algún asunto controversial (Guerra en Irak, Aborto, Windows vs. Mac OS, etc.) y después tomo una postura sobre lo que yo creo que es lo correcto. Usualmente, por medio de esta vía, encuentro una posición en la que de alguna manera puedo encontrar razón en todas las posturas del asunto... pero ahora, temo que no puedo comprender ese "gobierno legítimo" que se ha proclamado en la capital de México.

Como siempre, es importante ver el punto opuesto del propio argumento primero y dar oportunidad que se exprese: Hay algunos sucesos que, en mis lecturas, he visto que varios simpatizantes perredistas recurren para mostrar como el gobierno panista frenó los movimientos de "izquierda" para ganar la elección presidencial. Varios de estos puntos son importantes, y no he leído a nadie que haya realmente entendido lo que el otro lado tiene que decir al respecto, por lo que intentaré escuchar a ambos lados en cada uno:

Quisieron encarcelar a AMLO desde mucho antes de que comenzaron las campañas para que no pudiera participar en las elecciones 2006. Es cierto, pero, primero, fue por algo que sí era ilegal: desapropió territorio de una manera que era fuera de la ley; aunque, en toda justicia, era para hacer un hospital, lo cual habla mucho de él. Tuvo que decidir entre quebrar la ley o construírlo, y francamente yo hubiera hecho lo mismo; pero todo buen acto viene mal pagado, y siento que uno se tiene atener a las consecuencias de lo que uno hace. Y segundo, aun cuando le quitaron la immunidad, el mismo presidente que él silenció en su ultimo Estado de la Unión un año y medio después, lo liberó de ser enjuiciado. Bajo presión de la protesta o bajo buen juicio, el presidente relajó la tensión social que AMLO mismo estaba provocando al utilizar su imagen para movilizar a la gente, de lo cual uno podría creer que es posible que él mismo se puso en esa posición para comenzar hacer campaña de la cual supuestamente se le quería sacar.

Sobre el 'complot' en contra de AMLO, con todos los famosos videos. Es completamente comprensible y difícil de ignorar que el momento en que estos videos se hicieron públicos es evidencia para sospechar que había "alguien" poniéndolos a la vista demasiado oportunamente; a lo mejor para manchar la imagen de AMLO y quitarle credibilidad para cuando su campaña. Ademas, es cierto: AMLO nunca aparece en ellos, y no se le sospecha a el directamente de haber quebrado la ley. Pero, estos argumentos no son suficientes para balancear el gran peso de la denuncia que descubrieron: ¿Cuándo hubiera sido mejor que se hubieran expuesto? ¿Después de que hubiera supuestamente ganado la presidencia? O, ¿Es mejor para los defensores de AMLO que nadie los hubiera visto? Aun más, tambien dice del tipo de compañía que este señor decide mantener en su equipo de trabajo.

Sobre Fox ayudando a Calderón en su campaña. Realmente no sé si Fox desvió dinero gubernamental para la campaña panista, y realmente esto no es un tema de debate, es un tema de especulación (y MUCHA especulación a eso, es impresionante lo que se puede alargar un editorial a raíz de sólo un rumor). Sobre los 'spots' antes de la elección: éstos fueron televisados meses antes, y, la verdad, eran más de defensa propia: de cómo llevó acabo su gobierno y defendiéndose de quiénes no creían en él. Si descalificamos a una persona porque se echa porras a sí mismo, sobre lo que puede hacer y cree que ha hecho, bajo el argumento de que es "propaganda para el partido", creo que tambien podemos descalificar el acto del 20 de noviembre pasado y toda acción gubernamental de ayuda comunitaria de igual manera, lo cual no es bueno ni para el PRD ni para la nación.

Sobre el fraude electoral. Este punto es extenso, y muy controversial. Encontré bastante información en línea: hay un muy buen artículo que resume casi todo el punto de vista "pro-fraude" y se puede encontrar aquí. Hay varios puntos que indican evidencia del fraude:

Hubieron varias casillas con sólo un representante del PAN en ellas. Es cierto, pero también hubieron varias casillas con sólo un representante del PRD, y obviamente este partido no sabe nada de ello por lo que no lo denunció. De que el PAN o el PRI o cualquier partido haya metido mano, es de esperarse, como tambien es de esperarse que tambie el PRD hizo de las suyas (¿Tienen historias de terror del PAN? Yo tengo del PRD, del PRI, hasta de Convergencia). El PRD no tiene la conciencia limpia aquí y denunciar por este lado al proceso es denunciarse a sí mismo, pero esto es un tema que tomaremos más adelante...

También esta el hecho de que se firmaron las urnas: una firma por cada partido representado por una persona de dicho partido. ¿Por qué no comenzamos a preguntarle a las personas que firmaron estas urnas? ¿Qué sucedió? ¿Por qué se firmó como válida una urna que al parecer era inválida y luego estas mismas personas maldicen el proceso como corrupto? Hay algo raro ahí, y nadie al parecer lo quiere explicar.
Hubo mano de gato en el conteo electrónico y hay evidencia matemática/estadística de ello. Irónicamente, estoy estudiando algo en esa área en mi posgrado y es triste decir que "con la estadística y una buena encuesta, cualquier cosa se puede comprobar". Prueba de ello son todas las cifras que salieron dictando que Calderon, no, perdon AMLO, digo Madrazo, no te creas el Papa iban a ganar las elecciones; encuestar es todo un arte, créanme, y lo verdaderamente importante para ello es la psicologia que se aplica para crear la encuesta, no la verdad que puede resultar de ella. Aun así, en la estadística formal hay muchas variables que contemplar en un ámbito como éste; una tendencia estadística en un proceso electoral implica conocimiento de los datos que en este momento no se tiene: todos los artículos estadísticos pro-fraude que he visto asumen ciertas cosas que realmente no se saben de primera instancia, comenzando con el ruido de medición que se asume que es aditivo y gauseano (lo cual realmente dudo que suceda en un sistema como éste). También mencionan que el "comportamiento" no es como el que se esperaba del de una votación nacional, el cual creo que debe cambiar conforme de votación a votación (son diferentes generaciones las que votan, el humano no es tan predecible) por lo que hasta la fecha no he leído de ningún "comportamiento general de una votación nacional"; y la razón de ello es obvio: no se tiene suficiente información de un sólo país (porque la cultura también cambia esa tendencia) para establecerlo, lo cual aumenta de importancia al considerar que se tuvo una votación con más de 50% de abstinencia.

PERO (y este es un "pero" muy importante), hay una muy buena y famosa publicación de estas implicaciones estadísticas que se puede encontrar aquí: muy interesante y pone en evidencia cosas difíciles de ignorar, aunque es todavía muy verde (no es para nada un documento investigativo completo, confesado por el mismo autor), sólo personas dentro del mismo grupo pueden contribuir a ello (y dudo que bienvengan datos que nieguen sus descubrimientos), ha habido cambios durante el progreso del documento que yo pienso que son importantes pero que no considera en las conclusiones y, la verdad, involucra mucho su opinión sobre como una elección cree que debería procederse, no como se está procediendo en este momento de la historia (no sólo es matemáticas lo que se debe considerar); aun así levanta unos puntos muy válidos, los cuales voy a retomar más adelante.
La incomplacencia del TRIFE de contar voto por voto (nada que esconder, nada que temer). El problema con esto es que el voto es algo muy sagrado, no solo para el tribunal, sino para el mismo ciudadano: no olvidemos a los que 96 años atrás murieron por ello. Por lo que el TRIFE tuvo una pesada tarea de sopesar dicha dignidad del voto por la legalidad que implicaba abrir una sola urna. Aun así, se abrieron algunas, como forma de investigación para ver si había suficiente evidencia de las discrepancias que habia denunciado el PRD para proseguir con abrir el resto, y no se encontró dicha evidencia. Esto es según el TRIFE, una institución aplaudida foráneamente por su profesionalismo e imparcialidad, lo cual también es difícil de ignorar. Añadido a esto, el acto de contar voto por voto implica un costo económico enorme al gobierno, que recae en la población... ya tenemos el FOBAPROA, y todavía no terminamos de pagar eso.

Después de tirar argumentos uno tras otro en un debate, es importante mencionar algunas áreas en las que podemos establecer acuerdo. Es posible que voltee 20 años después y lea este artículo y vea que omití ver algún tipo de ángulo de este asunto y me pegue a mí mismo, pero dudo que lo siguiente se puede negar:

El PAN se ha opuesto a que se quemen las boletas, aún cuando puede haber evidencia ahí que lo pueda sacar del poder, lo cual es de aplaudirse. Es importante que el congreso reescriba esa ley para que este proceso se termine de llevar acabo adecuadamente.
El IFE es todavía una institucion nueva, la verdad, y el TRIFE no ha terminado su tarea. El recuento total de los votos sigue siendo un tema de discusión, y algo que no se va a ir nada más porque la ley lo dice: la ley se reescribe, y esto se debe considerar para elecciones futuras. El documento que mencioné anteriormente que trata sobre errores estadísticos en el proceso electoral pone en evidencia que el IFE tiene que mejorar sus procesos de adquisición de datos para asegurar imparcialidad y legalidad en ellos: es posible que lo que muestra este documento puede ser evidencia de malhechura o de sólo un error programático (podrían comenzar con sus servidores, reemplazando a Windows con un sistema operativo de verdad). Es decir, aunque el famoso "fraude electoral" no se ha podido, hasta la fecha, comprobar o negar (como muchas elecciones), este estudio trae importantes evidencias al frente, mas allá de lo que yo pueda rebatir; evidencias que NO se deben ignorar, menos aún olvidar...
Es cierto que YA se han contado los votos (el día de la elección), pero hay una gran cantidad de personas que sienten que se deben de contar de nuevo (independientemente de quién esté conveciéndolos de ello) y creo que la dignidad del voto puede ser sopesada para esta situación sin precedente. Pero (otro de esos "peros"), creo que se deben considerar dos cosas muy importantes si es que en algún momento se llega a dar acabo:
1. Yo, como ciudadano, no quiero pagar por ello. Ya se invertió una cantidad enorme de dinero y tiempo no sólo del gobierno sino también de la industria y el pueblo mexicano que ayudaron en diversas formas a sus correspondientes campañas. ¿Quieren voto por voto? Encuentren fondos para pagar el recuento de algún imparcial, porque es bastante costoso hacerlo.
2. Recordemos que no sólo fue el presidente nacional por el que se votó en esta elección dudosa, sino tambión por diputados y senadores, muchos de los cuales en este momento están sentados en el Congreso de la Unión, gritándole a otro oficial político, dudando de su procedencia, mientras que ellos procedieron de la misma vía. Si se van a contar todos los votos, se deben contar de todas las elecciones que se llevaron acabo de ella... Nada que esconder, nada que temer, ¿No?.

Hasta aquí podría terminar este artículo y dejar el asunto de una manera civil, pero... digo, sigue siendo mi blog y, pues, no puedo aguantarme las ganas de escribir algo (y, realmente, ¿Quién lo va a leer?): si se volviera a llevar acabo otra elección, en mi opinión AMLO ya no ganaría. El número de detractores que ha tenido su partido ya es suficiente para que en la siguiente elección no obtenga al ventaja que tenía hace algunos meses. Han creado de su partido uno que, aunque dice ser de la gente del campo, no es humilde: parte de mi familia viene del campo, y al encontrarse con una injusticia responden de una manera honorable y digna. Enunciados como "seguiremos fastidiando todos sus eventos políticos durante el sexenio. Haremos que siga huyendo y escondiéndose del pueblo, entrando a escondidas, resguardado por policias y militares, como un pillo, como un cobarde, como el presidente espurio que es." son denigrantes no para el presidente sino para el que los enuncia (Juan Carlos Taverra, PRD). Básicamente está diciendo que será gracias a ellos que no vamos a poder avanzar...

Es deplorable que se sienten ahí, apenas elegidos en la misma elección que condenan de fraudolenta, y no dejen al presidente (o a cualquiera que se les oponga) expresarse. Va, el presidente Fox hizo muy mal trabajo durante su sexenio (les doy este argumento, aunque esto también está para debatirse), pero al no dejarlo dar su Estado de la Unión estan destruyendo lo mismo por lo que se ha estado luchando: libertad de expresion; algo que hace menos de dos decadas era un lujo. ¿Cómo se sentirían si fuera AMLO el que fuera forzado a retirarse de su ponencia por una protesta panista? Y no vengan con que ha sucedido porque, no sólo ya hable de su 'complot' hace varios parrafos, sino que también le dejaron hacer su cirquito el 20 de noviembre.

Estoy completamente a favor de protestar: grandes cambios cívicos y sociales se han llevado a cabo gracias a ello. Pero una cosa es protestar (algo característico de mi amada izquierda) con el propósito de abrir los ojos de otros compatriotas sobre alguna injusticia que se está llevando acabo, y otra cosa es juntar a un gran grupo de personas con el propósito de presionar al gobierno para poder llevar acabo una agenda personal. La meta de la protesta es forzar al diálogo, no quedarse sentado ahí esperando que alguien tire la primera pedrada. Lo que sucedió por ese par de meses en el que el D.F. básicamente paró de funcionar gracias al plantón, no fue una protesta, fue una molestia. No me abrió los ojos sobre el "fraude" sino, al contrario, me abrió los ojos de la clase de político que es AMLO, y, al parecer, varios vieron lo mismo. El mismo Marcos lo dijo mejor: "El movimiento de AMLO no es de izquierda. Es un movimiento que esta tomando definiciones posmortem, porque él siguió las vías de las instituciones, porque mientras le dieron fuego para él sí valieron. En el momento en que las instituciones le dieron la espalda en el fraude electoral él decide desconocer a las instituciones, en parte. Y la propuesta de AMLO viene de un capitalismo humano, sus bases fundamentales significaban los macroproyectos que han destruído el campo mexicano..." (Marcos en Nuevo Laredo)

Y quiero dejar en claro que no estoy a favor del PAN en esto completamente. De hecho no estoy a favor de ningun partido, porque los políticos, por definición, son partidistas. Primero, buscan por el bienestar de su partido; después, de quienes le ayudaron en la campaña; luego, de qué hacer para quitarle la ventaja al otro partido; y, al mero final, si queda tiempo, por el bienestar de su familia: el pueblo mexicano queda completamente fuera del círculo. No he visto ningún caso que no sea así...

El PAN debe ver que hay una gran cantidad de personas que no están satisfechas, y mientras tanto no lo van a dejar avanzar. No se ha abierto un canal de comunicación entre ambos partidos, aunque, siendo sinceros, este canal nunca realmente se ha abierto (hubieron rumores de un chorrito en la época de Benito Juárez, pero se secó hace mucho tiempo). La clausura de este canal es culpa de ambos partidos: decir que "estoy aquí para cuando quieras hablar" (parafraseando a Calderón en su juramento) no es abrir el canal, eso es darle la pala al otro para que comience a cavar. Si hubieran habido intenciones reales de diálogo por parte de Calderón, ya se hubieran formado equipos de negociación y una cadena interminable de comunicados al PRD a sentarse a hablar, con el IFE en la mesa.

Desgraciadamente, aún con todo eso, dudo que AMLO se siente a dialogar; le conviene que siga seco el canalsito. En este momento el PRD está en una situación muy ventajosa, porque sabe que no le van a dar el recuento, pero al gritar "voto por voto" esa otra mitad de la nación va a gritar con el, apoyando cualquier movimiento que haga. Irónicamente, varios amigos perredistas me señalaban de "borrego" por creer lo que veía en las noticias de México (y de Estados Unidos, y de Inglaterra) y de lo que leía en los periódicos de México (y de Google, y de BBC, y de News.com); me pregunto que escucharan ellos... ¿AMLO News? Jeje, bromeo, bromeo... hay también varios panistas, y priistas que estan enbobados con lo que su partido les dicta como camino a seguir. Lo que me lleva a: ¿Quien escucha ahora al mexicano? Muy bien nos dicen qué hacer, y de lo que podemos protestar, pero ¿De vuelta? Tantas decisiones llevándose acabo sin que me den la opción de intervenir: un voto, eso es todo, vete a tu casita, ya nosotros nos encargaremos de ver quién tiene la banda presidencial más grande.

Es difícil enfrentarlo pero aún siendo poética la posición de AMLO y sus bonitos 20 puntos que señaló en su ponencia (y ustedes saben que me fascina la poesía), siguieron siendo puntos en el aire, siguio siendo un político, pero ahora peor porque ni siquiera es de verdad: no puso fechas, no hay nada sentado en piedra, sólo promesas. Y claro: una gira nacional, para eso sí hay fechas, para eso sí sacamos el pincel y lo sentamos en piedra. ¿Que no se supone que él debe ser diferente? ¿Que su "gobierno" va a separarse de "la banda de potentados que nos robó la elección presidencial"? Mientras que ni siquiera me dejaron oír al que sí es de verdad (bueno, esta bién, "oficial")... ¿Quién le está robando a quién?

Traté de entender, realmente, la posición perredista y su correspondiente justificación. Evidencia de ello es el hecho de que a través de este artículo he dado varios argumentos hacia el lado perredista que raramente han recibido del "otro lado". También creo que el PRD está en una posición que puede beneficiar enormemente a la nación, en la que puede actuar como un poderoso "abogado del diablo", inspeccionando cada movimiento que el gobierno haga a través del siguiente sexenio, presionando a que realmente considere a todos en sus reformas. Pero también creo que deben cuidar un balance: como un alumno en una clase viendo a otro alumno resolviendo un problema en el pizarrón...

Es bueno que el alumno interrumpa la clase y le diga al maestro cuando el otro ha cometido un error, y si el maestro lo ve necesario, pedirle que pase y él mismo lo resuelva. Pero es bastante odioso, e influye negativamente en el aprendizaje de los demás alumnos, que se pare, intente quitarle el gis al otro alumno y que, por frustración de que el maestro lo castigue, comience a gritar que el debería ser el que debería estar resolviendo el problema, y prosiga a traer su propio pizarrón a la clase. Todo lo que esto causa es que atrae hostilidad, provoca tensión, y, principalmente, distrae al resto del salón de lo que verdaderamente deberían estar haciendo: resolver el bendito problema.

New track for Just Three Letters

2006-11-19T21:49:00.000Z

After a long time since I haven't recorded, I finally succumbed to the urge of it.

It's actually a remake of a very old song of mine called “Laberinto”: it originally involved only two guitars and I'm pretty sure that this was my first attempt ever to do a multi-guitar arrangement, so it's quite basic. In the remake though, I've put around three more guitars (you'll hear'em around the middle), some strings and good ol' loops all around. I used it to substitute “xal” in the demo, now demoted to a b-side, because it's the only one in the demo that was kind of if-fy.

The official song's name now is “lbr” (to continue with the tradition of a three-letter-name-song demo), and you can find it in my box.net public share; it's track number 13.

I've written about box.net in earlier posts, if you're wondering what's that all about

Remember, it's a free download, all I'm asking in return is for you to comment about the song here and give me some feedback. Thanks and I hope you enjoy it.

Guy Fawkes and the Gunpowder Plot

2006-11-05T20:37:00.000Z

Remember, remember, the 5th of November
The Gunpowder Treason and plot ;
I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot.

Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes,
'Twas his intent.
To blow up the King and the Parliament.
Three score barrels of powder below.
Poor old England to overthrow.
By God's providence he was catch'd,
With a dark lantern and burning match

Holloa boys, Holloa boys, let the bells ring
Holloa boys, Holloa boys, God save the King!

Hip hip Hoorah !
Hip hip Hoorah !

A penny loaf to feed ol'Pope,
A farthing cheese to choke him.
A pint of beer to rinse it down,
A faggot of sticks to burn him.
Burn him in a tub of tar,'
Burn him like a blazing star.
Burn his body from his head,
Then we'll say: ol'Pope is dead.

I'm hearing fireworks outside my window, could it be? Has he done it? It's anarchy now our reality?

MPhil leading to a... drumroll... PhD

2006-11-04T14:04:00.000Z

Well, it's official: I'm a research student.

The teacher of one of the classes that I was attending in the MSc course asked the group who was going to or thinking about doing a PhD in the University of Manchester after finishing. I think it's not needed to write that, well, I was totally there (hmmm, if it's not needed, why did I anyway? Think about it).

The teacher's name, by the way, is Dr. Barry Lennox.

His logic was very convincing: what's your reason to be doing a MSc, other than it being the precesor of a PhD? If it's to get knowledge before hand, that's what you do in your first year of the PhD anyway: actually, the program that you can get into if you don't have a masters degree is "MPhil leading to a PhD" which will grant you a MPhil in the first year.

Brief parenthesis: there's a big difference between a MSc and a MPhil. A MSc is a taught program, meaning going to classes and doing a small dissertation project in the last three months of the 15-month period. A MPhil is a research program, meaning reading, reading, reading, and doing a small thesis about the findings at the end of the one- to two-year period. Both give a masters degree, but a MSc degree is a little more prestigious than a MPhil in the U.K, mainly because of the fame that it has brought on to itself of being "the degree that is given out when someone doesn't complete a PhD". Although, in my perspective, being that a MPhil is research-based, in Mexico, where it doesn't have that fame, it should be the other way around.

And that leads to Dr. Lennox's second point: if some reason you don't find any funding for the last two years (which, considering the 300% increase in tuition fees for foreigners, is viable), the University will still give you a masters degree to go back and boast about. Taking care, at the same time, of the fact that you'll have to pay for just three years of tuition fees, not four (£11,000 less to pay is always good).

To finish off his argument he mentioned that if you're seeking funding, you need to apply during this year to have the whole process finish by the time you finish the MSc (around the end of next year). And if you're applying for help to fund a PhD, the scholarship organizations will ask for a summary of the project that you're going to be developing; if you have this already, why not start working on it now?

It was hard to ignore the opportunity, but one thing was bugging me: I didn't have a project to work on. That was the point of doing the MSc first: get an idea of what can be done. I went to talk to Dr. Lennox anyway, and he first asked of my qualifications: I mentioned my bachelor's degree GPA (94/100) and that I have my own company, Makko Solutions. Apparently that was enough for him: "You're in. What projects do you have in mind?" I was completely stumped. I explained the whole situation and he replied that I should think of some ideas in the next couple of days, of what interests me, what area is the one that I would like to get into, and to read what the staff have dwelled about to also get a feel of who would I like as a supervisor; I wasn't even a research student, and I already had an assignment.

I was actually quite impressed with the amount of ideas that came about. I never realized that I have had stored so much stuff in my little nugget. I first read of what the staff have written about, which was glaring: very diverse stuff, really. But I settled on two: Dr. Heath and Dr. Lennox. They have written about a subject that I've always heard about and that sounds interesting: Model Predictive Control, MPC, and justs as it sounds, predicting to satisfy every state of the controlled process (to read more: go here). It also implies controlling non-linear models (which in classical control is VERY hard) with more than one input/output (also a pain).

The ideas that I most liked where the following:

Using MPC as an optimizer of the process of coming up with a solution by genetic algorithms.
Global-Positioning-System-based guidance system as a control problem solved by MPC.
Quality control by MPC.
Flying Saucer project.
Using MPC for fault monitoring in the Intelligent Guitar Effect Box project.

All of these are quite hard to explain in layman's terms, because of the specialization that they involve, but I'll try:

The first one. Genetic algorithms is an artificial intelligence concept, which, of what I've read, it's the standard of comparison for other problem-based solution-finding algorithms. The problem is it's speed, because it relies on evolving over all the possible scenarios (no matter how improbable they are), so I'm proposing using MPC to optimize it and speed it up by trying to predict the way it will evolve the quickest. The interesting point of this is that usually AI is used as a tool for control, but this proposition reverses that, using control as a tool for AI.

The second one. Putting the reference point of the system to be the desired position of a vehicle and the observed variable being it's current position (all this GPS driven), use MPC to not only solve the positioning problem, but also try and predict problems and obstacles ahead.

The third one. If you're from the industry, quality control must be day-in and day-out concept for you. I would like to see if MPC fits in there and what advantages can it bring out.

The fourth one. I always thought that flying saucers were possible to make: by a fan controlled by a motor and counterweights in it's edge, not by the center. MPC will be used to handle height control and direction.

The fifth one. This was just to try and include my hobby in the whole thing: imagine a guitar effect's box that you teach your song to, and the box will learn WHEN, in the song, to put WHAT effect. Now, when you go on stage, just plug it in and you don't have to come back to step on pedals to apply the next effect. Obviously, because we always play a song differently everytime, the box needs to predict and compensate for any error in tuning and/or timing whilst playing live.

I met with Dr. Lennox with the ideas in hand, and was very surprised that he was very interested in the fifth one... yeah: the guitar one. He mentioned that he had started working on a game which would teach a person how to play a certain song, like the dancing games you see in every arcade, but with any type of guitar. That actually fitted well with my project, but he instated that it's very important to keep an open mind on where the project may lead. It's very possible that this project, or it's findings, may be applicable to other areas that aren't sonic analysis, and, thus, don't get too attached to it because it may change over time. Almost as in queue, here comes a bank, yes, a bank that has grown interest in the project and it's feasibility of applying it to credit account owners and/or the accept/reject process of getting one.

It's now being about a month of "working"... it's been confusing, really. A lot of new terms to understand, therefore a lot to read, and always thinking on where to apply it. Right now I'm finishing reading on Principal Components Analysis, PCA, and it's meaning (for more information, go here), Wikipedia rocks!). It's something that took more than two weeks of banging my head against the wall to understand, but it's worth it, because now I know that PCA can simplify my life in the near future.

Now that I'm full on this thing, as Dr. Lennox predicted, we have slowly changed course of where I'm going. It's ok though, I prepared myself for it and was expecting it: many other students that I've talked to have said that the original topic of research of a thesis is never the same as it is on when it's being written up. I'll probably wind up using this project as a training application of the terms that I'm reading upon and writing up something in System Modelling which is beginning to appeal to me. Coincidentally, that is what the bank is interested in.

I'm ok here... confused, but apparently is normal. I've never found comfort in confusion, there's no control there, but irony is now my way of life and it looks comforting =)

What if everything around you
isn't quite as it seems?
What if all the world you think you know
is an elaborate dream?
And if you look at your reflection,
is it all you wanted to be?
What if you could look right through the cracks?
Would you find yourself
find yourself afraid to see?

What if all the world's inside of your head
just creations of your own?
Your devils and your gods,
all the living and the dead,
and you really are alone.
You can live in this illusion.
You can choose to believe.
You keep looking but you can't find the woods,
while you're hiding in the trees.

Good song...