The Voyage (interlude #11)

Temperature: -67ºC
Velocity: 813 km/h
Altitude: 12182m
Flight: TP107

It's been 2 decades since I've set foot on the land that witnessed my unholy birth. I know it's been awhile since I posted, but the motherland and I have a lot of catching up to do. Everyday, people restart their lives. Now, it's my turn.
Posts will resume shortly and some new stuff is in the works. Hope you guys are all doing well. Will visit each of you soon.
Cheers!

The Shooter

We drag a lot of bullshit with us. Arrogance, hypocrisy, self-pity... 

Sometimes, we don't even realize it. Most times, we let these feelings linger by making  excuses for them or by finding someone as miserable as us. Misery loves company, right? My friend Rita has no patience for any of it. She has a thing for dressing up and wearing masks, but she's as honest as they come. She's her own hardest internal critic and has the same attitude towards everyone else. Rita will be your best friend if you've got a genuine problem, but she'll shoot you down like a mutant dog if you annoy her with your bullshit drama. With sarcastic fire and a witty hammer of irony, Rita will mold your bullshit into bullets of clarity and shoot the ugly truth into your soul. No mercy.

Shooters like Rita might wound our feelings (ego), but they help us see the truth.

The Collaterally Damaged

It doesn't matter if Donnie also wanted to get in her pants. What matters is that he was nice to her... and paid for it. Sometimes, you try to be nice to a person and all you get for your troubles is shrapnel in the soul. Donnie didn't even get the sympathy you would give a victim. She was the victim here. Him? He was nothing but the collateral damage... less than a footnote in someone else's love story. What a shitty fate.

The Fake Celebrity

Some bloggers are just so full of themselves. This guy Anton has a celebrity blog and he's always hungry for followers. What's the point of having a thousand followers if you don't care what any of them has to say and if they don't give a shit about you? He gets comments on every post, but they're all the same: "Hi! Amazing blog! Let's follow each other?" What's the point of these meaningless spews of nothingness? He also calls his readers 'his fans' and highlights his blog awards in a disgusting way. Singers give us songs. Actors give us characters. Models give us sexy photos. Why do these kids act like celebrities when all they have to give are their vain dreams of being famous?

This shouldn't be a popularity contest. We should be using this platform to have fun, know other people, and maybe learn a few things. I'm not a hypocrite, I like having views and followers and I know it's impossible to keep in touch with everybody. However, I try my best to get to know other people and I look for meaning... This douchebag is as meaningful as a skid mark on a celebrity's pair of underwear.

The Milk Carton Boy

Back when we were little kids, my friends and I would bitch about how our parents would always make us eat our vegetables and drink our milk. Edgar, however, never had to drink his milk. His parents were hotshot lawyers and we all thought they were more concerned with some new case than with their own son’s milk consumption. Edgar would also be gone for days without ever getting into trouble. We envied him, even though this lack of caring made him sad. Being a cocky asshole at the time, I made a joke about how one day Edgar’s parents would find his picture on a milk carton long before they even realized he was missing. Everyone laughed. Edgar didn't. He punched me in stomach, making me drop my milk, and walked away. I totally deserved it, but as the milk spilled over the ground, I could almost hear Edgar’s tears role down his cheeks.

I later found out that Edgar was actually lacto-intolerant. Even so, I'm sure he still wished his parents cared more about him.

The Expired Lovers

Everything has an expiration date. Milk, rice, meat, cookies, beer, dreams... everything. Even most relationships are best enjoyed before a certain date. Canned stuff usually lasts a bit longer. It may even last a few years, but eventually, it too, will go bad. This is something Dagny and Hugo learned the hard way. Air oxidizes, bacteria grows, boredom settles in, goals change... It's a shame we don't have expiration-date labels to warn us when our relationships will start to spoil and rot. It would avoid a lot of heartbreak.
Although, it would probably take away some of the flavor, as well.

The Origami Travelers

"WILL TRADE RIDE FOR ORIGAMI"

That's what their sign said. Late last summer, I met these two guys who were hitchhiking across the country. Andy and Frank. Their plan was to see the most they could in a month's time, but spend the least amount of money possible. They had a small per diem for food and, of course, a little extra for beer. For the rest, they traded origami cranes.
Besides the ride, my roommates and I offered them a couch to sleep on. After a couple of weeks of sleeping in a tent, Andy and Frank looked at the couch like it was a king-sized bed at a 5-star hotel packed with a couple of sexy masseuses ready to make them happy. That day, we took them to see the city, swapped stories, had a mean steak dinner and hit the bars as hard as we could. The next morning, horribly hungover, we said our goodbyes to Andy and Frank. They left our little city to continue their adventure, trading more origamis with all those they met.
We shouldn't need much to be happy and when it comes to travelling and meeting new people, all we really need are a few origamis and an open spirit.

The Multitasker

Multitasking can be a very useful talent. I used to know this girl who was an outstanding multitasker. She would mentally divide her tasks into categorized boxes and then she would juggle these tasks with such amazing ease that her life ran like a smooth machine. I learned two important things from this girl. The first thing was that, to be a really efficient multitasker, you can't juggle the tasks alone, you must juggle your emotions, as well. For example, she would smile at a client even if in the previous minute, she was screaming at her thieving mechanic or crying about some weight remark her mother might have made. The other thing I learned from this girl was that a good multitasker can also be a pretty good liar. The lies become another task to juggle, but one misstep and your boxes are ripped to shreds. The girl's name is Angelica and not only is she a multitasker, she's also a lying bitch.

The Giant Battler

If you've heard the story of David and Goliath, then you'll also know the story of Barry's bookstore and his tireless battle against the major online retailer who's name shall not stain this post. As a scare tactic, this ruthless giant never washes off the blood of it's victims and it's heart became a hole when the beast grew too big. Attacking it with any sort of sentimentality is pointless. Still, some small businesses wish to court the ugly Goliath, but Barry believes that this is the same as bending over, letting it empty your pockets while it anally probes you, and then saying 'thanks' at the end. Barry will not bend over.

Barry told me that to get his bookstore to prosper, he has to attack the giant's head. He has to outsmart it by giving his clients what the big beast can't: A thoroughly personalized, innovating, friendly and agile service. Barry's financial situation is not always the best, but year after year, he manages to battle the hungry giant away from his market, one stone at a time... I mean, one book at a time.

The Hemorrhoid Walker

Years ago, some friends and I went to a concert. Since the concert was far from where we lived and we had nowhere to stay, as soon as it was over, we had to hurry in order to catch the buses and the trains that would take us home. 

"Hurry Martin, hurry!" Martin wouldn't hurry. He was making this weird face like he had a cucumber  up his butt and he walked slowly. Painfully slow. We needed him to hurry, but he wouldn't, he couldn't. He had a problem that impeded him from hurrying. He didn't want to tell us what was wrong, but we knew exactly what the problem was. Martin should've had his fibers that week and left the little monsters at home, but instead, he brought them out for a walk and from his facial expressions, the nasty little fuckers had sharp teeth. We wouldn't leave our good friend behind, so instead, we slowed down… and made jokes. Yeah, evil was our middle name. Martin’s middle name was The Hemorrhoid Walker.