Playing Your Dreams Like Video Games

How many times have you dreamt only to awake and wonder why you wouldn't have known it was a dream?  Consider that when you dream, you can take flight, and defy laws of physics without really thinking twice about it.  So why is it that when you're dreaming, it's often that you don't question your state of reality when what is actually taking place is otherwise pretty damn absurd?

Lucid dreaming is an age-old thing.  Dreaming, let alone lucid dreaming, has been a mystery for our ancestors, though scientists believe that dreaming actually plays an evolutionary role in "enabl[ing] early humans to rehearse responses to the many dangerous events they faced in real life." [via]  Lucid dreaming has also been researched scientifically though the average person doesn't experience this type of dream so often.

Some time last year, I awoke from a lucid dream and I excitedly scoured the internet for ways to achieve these dreams more easily.  There are people that systematically attempt to have as many lucid dreams as possible.  This site has a rundown of some good tips, btw.

Lucid dreaming is not to be confused with dream control, which is exactly what it sounds like, but achieving an awareness during your dreams (lucidity) is likely to increase the extent to which you can deliberately influence the course of events; hence dream control.

Without getting into the more technical reasons about why we dream (which I actually began to write about-- not so ironically lulling myself into a comatose slumber), I'll just explain to you my experiences of dream control.

I have lucid dreams pretty often and have actually controlled my dreams like a video game.  The down-side to this is that I actually told my friends about a few of the dreams that I had, and they looked at me like I was crazy.  In my defense, I was certain I was dreaming and was the only reason I decided to experiment.

To start, there are certain exercises you can do throughout the day to ready yourself for awareness of your dreams when they occur, and hopefully leading you to control them when you know they're occurring.  This might mean doing otherwise trivial actions such as turning off the  light-switch to see if it actually turns off the light, or looking at a block of text in a book, looking away, and then looking at that very same block of text to see if the words have changed.  Another thing you can do is to look at a digital clock and see if the bars that make up the numers are static or if they dance around.  You may be wondering what all of this has to do with dreaming.  To explain one, it is said that turning off a lightswitch is impossible in a dream because it's nearly impossible for your brain to construct a scene in which it's totally dark.

The thinking goes that if you practice these exercises during the day then you're more likely to question your state of reality in dreams.  So I did just that.  I woke up and documented some of these dreams, often times right after I woke up; be it 1 AM, 4 AM, etc.  I did not want to forget the details.  My lucidity sometimes waned from complete confidence in my dreaming state to questioning whether or not I was actually dreaming.  When I realized I was dreaming, I tried not to excite myself so much as to wake myself up.  When it worked, it worked well.  Needless to say, I seemed to be on an endless conquest for virtual ass.

For your reading entertainment (and my utter embarrassment) I'm giving you the exact notes of my dreams that I quickly jotted down in the wee hours of the morning on Notepad, so I apologize in advance for the horrible formatting.  You'll notice I repeat some of the things I've already mentioned in this blog because I wrote my notes in preparation to share with some friends via e-mail last June.  Enjoy:

Dream (Night of 6/8, morning of 6/9)

2 Woke up. Heard Christian singing in apt in middle of night. Woke up and sang L-O-V-E by Nat King Cole.





I didn't realize it at first, but I noticed that my radio was playing the song as well.





3. I looked at my radio after I wondered why it spontaneously came on as this hadn't ever occured on any





nights before. I looked at the alarm settings and saw that it had two settings: an alarm for Tuesday morning





alone, and a separate alarm for Weds-Monday.





4. Isaac spent the night and got up and asked if I was scared of being alone and left to go upstairs.





5. Strangers walked into my apt to use my restroom. It appears they just came back from a night of





clubbing and they spoke of electricity being out throughout the city.





6. A girl I didn't know embraced me from behind and was hinting at having sex. I was not attracted to her





and passed her off to someone else.





7. I was reading my blog on Myspace and saw that I blogged about some band very recently that I was apparently





very fond of although I had never heard of this band before.





I knew I was dreaming - however it was a low-level lucidity state. I woke up and wrote the aforementioned details with an intent to have another





chance at lucidity. I browsed the web for techniques I had read before on how to do so. I've always achieved lucidity without much effort,





but I wanted to try all I could to do it again. I placed the link at the bottom of this e-mail.





dream #2





1 Got out of bed. Saw person next to me that wasn't Christian. Instantly was aware I was dreaming.





Grabbed their face and smashed it to the ground. Got up with the intent to get laid. Walked out of my room and realized I lived in a palace.





2. Walked into a door. Turned around. Created barriers so no one could get in. Tried to make a brick wall but couldn't. Instead Made bars





that covered the room leading into the other room of women.





I walk into the door and there are girls in this area laying in beds encased in this glass room with raised beds in rows, but each bed alternated in





height and the ones adjacent to each other were different planes, being about three feet higher and lower than the next.





I go in to pick my girl. I survey the women and realize that some of them look absolutely horrid and resembled the creature on Harry





Potter that worked at that bank with long, bumpy noses. I eventually decided on three women extremly hot women that my mind created and asked everyone else to leave the room.





For some reason there were men who I think were bodygaurds/security and they questioned my motives. "Why must we leave?"





Judging from past experiences with trying to score in my lucid dreams, I knew this guy would be trouble. I didn't hesistate to put out a gat and shoot him in the face just for questioning me. I then looked to the other side of the room on the floor and created a trap-door, and underneath





there was water. I ordered the other security guy to get rid of the body. He didn't listen to me so I ended up killing him as well.





Next Dream:





I was walking around my apartment and noticed that Ali was walking up my back staircase. I opened the door and told her I was surprised to see her





because I thought she was on tour. She said she was but remembered I told her about a day I was taking off and since she had a break too,





she figured she'd come visit. Eventually Dawn, Ashley, Luis and some other unrecognizable girl was there as well and we were all talking on the floor of my living room





and we were sleeping on the floor in sleeping-bags.





Ashley was complaining about boys and asked me how she should feel when she goes out next time we're out. I told her she should feel





exactly how she's feeling at that moment (because I thought it was pretty stupid to ask how you should





make yourself feel) but I added that she should at least try to be in great spirits. Dawn was complaining





about the curvature of her back and asked me to feel a bump that was on one side of her back. I told her it wasn't noticeable and not to worry.





Later, someone (like an authority figure) arrived home and we were all trying to get everyone to quiet down. Luis was shining a flashlight





and Ali told him to 'shut off that fucking flashlight.' Luis giggled and said 'geez.'





Not sure who that guy was.





Woke up because Christian kicked me.





Dream #3





I am walking around town searching for women again. I instantly know I'm dreaming.





This strange looking Asian girl jumps in front of me as I'm walking and starts giggling.





I grab her face and hurl her into the trees that are about 30 feet away. I walk into this little park area that has benches and a gazeebo





and I begin killing people for no reason at all other than the fact that I don't like the cut of their jibs.





I grab a guy by his face, slam his head on the ground and then step on it. As I step on his face I realize that I was barefoot.





I remember specifically thinking how real that felt for a dream. Then I pull out a glock and shoot this other guy





in the face. I never got around to finding a girl but I thought about what more I could do. I could only think of one cool thing. I wanted to





fly to the moon. I jumped up into the air and blasted off into space. A little into the flight I realized that I might want to put a space-suit





on. (Apparently this is low-level lucid dreaming - where you're aware that you're dreaming, but you don't realize that you aren't completely





in control and you forget that you cannot be harmed. I couldn't make the spacesuit appear so I just gave up on that. I am flying toward the moon at an exhilirating rate, however it doesn't





appear to be getting any closer. So I drastically change speeds. Finally I am almost to the moon but I can't get it to look like the moon.





I could only get it to look like Earth so I bypass it. Then I try again but the moon just looks way too small and doesn't ever look like the surface





of the moon but rather just a bunch of grey images and static.





I end up in a dark neighborhood and I see a car approaching. It's a car full of the women that were supposed to be the three women I picked





earlier. They were all smiles and extremely sexy. I jumped in the car to drive toward my lair to give them each a ravishing. I hear squeaking





from the 'real world' and I realize that something is attempting to wake me up and I fight it at first, but I couldn't any longer. The birds near my





window totally blocked me. That's all I remember.





I have never had that many lucid dreams in a night that I remember. The best tip given on the site is to even question reality





in your 'waking life'. You might want to try this throughout the day but especially at night. Routinely question your reality. Look at digital





clocks to see if digits can be formed. (Usually they cannot on a digital watch.) Also, in my first dream - I didn't understand why my light





didn't come off. Then I remembered this movie I watched (which you should watch if you haven't) called Waking Life. They mentioned that light





are virtually always impossible to turn off. I wondered about that but then if you think about it, if it were totally dark, than means your mind





just went blank. Another thing that was mentioned on the site below, as well as on the movie, was that if you read text you'll find that the





text changes if you read it again. Really, if you've even gotten to the point of thinking to do these things in your dream then you're already there.





Another thing I did that the site below suggested was that I question reality in my waking life, since you can never be 100% sure, afterall.





I know it seems a bit silly to ask yourself right now if you're reading this and if your existence at this point is real, however, more often than not





you think your dreams are real and you fail to question those as well. Get in the habit of asking yourself about reality and performing several





tests throughout the day and you'll find that it will almost become second nature to do the same thing in your dreams.





It mentioned to chant something like keep telling yourself that you're dreaming as you're falling asleep. What I did instead was I kept telling





myself 'If I see someone other than Christian, I'm dreaming.' 'If I'm somewhere other than my bedroom, I'm dreaming."





I kept repeating that over and over and it got into my subconscious and I had no problem at all becoming lucid. What I also noticed





was that the dreams were like watching HD tv when you are aware that you're dreaming. When you think about it, images are basically constructed





in your mind anyway - so what can create the crispest images than the actual source? Everything seemed so real even when I knew they weren't.





I realize now that the quality of my lucidity was never a constant. Sometimes I didn't realize the full power I had even though I was aware I was dreaming. Other times I realized



I was invincible and that's when it is really fun. I can't wait to try this again tonight.

1. In apt with Christian.  Light on.  The light would not turn off.

Dream (Night of 6/8, morning of 6/9)

1. In apt with son.  Light on.  The light would not turn off.

2  Woke up.  Heard son singing in apt in middle of night.  Woke up and sang L-O-V-E by Nat King Cole.

I didn't realize it at first, but I noticed that my radio was playing the song as well.

3.  I looked at my radio after I wondered why it spontaneously came on as this hadn't ever occurred on any nights before.  I looked at the alarm settings and saw that it had two settings:  an alarm for Tuesday morning alone, and a separate alarm for Weds-Monday.

4.  Younger brother spent the night and got up and asked if I was scared of being alone and left to go upstairs.

5.  Strangers walked into my apt to use my restroom.  It appears they just came back from a night of clubbing and they spoke of electricity being out throughout the city.

6.  A girl I didn't know embraced me from behind and was hinting at having sex.  I was not attracted to her and passed her off to someone else.

7.  I was reading my blog and saw that I blogged about some band very recently that I was apparently very fond of although I had never heard of this band before.

I knew I was dreaming - however it was a low-level lucidity state.  I woke up and wrote the aforementioned details with an intent to have another

chance at lucidity.  I browsed the web for techniques I had read before on how to do so.  I've always achieved lucidity without much effort,

but I wanted to try all I could to do it again.

dream #2

1  Got out of bed.  Saw person next to me that wasn't my son.  Instantly was aware I was dreaming.

Grabbed their face and smashed it to the ground.  Got up with the intent to get laid.  Walked out of my room and realized I lived in a palace.

2.  Walked into a door.  Turned around.  Created barriers so no one could get in.  Tried to make a brick wall but couldn't.  Instead Made bars

that covered the room leading into the other room of women.

I walk into the door and there are girls in this area laying in beds encased in this glass room with raised beds in rows, but each bed alternated in

height and the ones adjacent to each other were different planes, being about three feet higher and lower than the next.

I go in the meet my harem of women and pick my girl.  I survey the women and realize that some of them look absolutely horrid and resembled the creature on Harry Potter that worked at that bank.  Most of the girls had long, bumpy noses.  I eventually decided on three women extremly hot women that my mind created and asked everyone else to leave the room.

For some reason there were men who I think were bodygaurds/security and they questioned my motives.  "Why must we leave?"  Judging from past experiences with trying to score in my lucid dreams, I knew this guy would be trouble.  I didn't hesistate to put out a gat and shoot him in the face just for questioning me.  I then looked to the other side of the room on the floor and created a trap-door, and underneath there was water.  I ordered the other security guy to get rid of the body.  He didn't listen to me so I ended up killing him as well.

Next Dream:

I was walking around my apartment and noticed that my friend was walking up my back staircase.  I opened the door and told her I was surprised to see her because I thought she was on tour with her band.  She said she was but she reminded me that I told her about a day-off from work I was taking and since she had a break too, she figured she'd come visit.  Eventually two of my other friends and my older brother were in my apartment as well and we were all talking on the floor of my living room and sleeping on the floor in sleeping-bags.

One of my friends was complaining about boys and asked me how she should feel when she goes out next time we're out.  I told her she should feel

exactly how she's feeling at that moment (because I thought it was pretty stupid to ask how you should make yourself feel) but I added that she should at least try to be in great spirits.  Another chick friend was complaining

about the curvature of her back and asked me to feel a bump that was on one side of her back.  I told her it wasn't noticeable and not to worry.

Later, someone (like an authority figure) arrived home and we were all trying to get everyone to quiet down.  My older brother was shining a flashlight

and my chick friend (that initially showed up) told him to 'shut off that fucking flashlight.'  Brother giggled and said 'geez.'

Not sure who that guy was.

Woke up because my son kicked me.

Dream #3

I am walking around town searching for women again.  I instantly know I'm dreaming.  (Damn, I'm getting good at this shit.)

This strange looking Asian girl jumps in front of me as I'm walking and starts giggling.  I grab her face and hurl her into the trees that are about 30 feet away.  I walk into this little park area that has benches and a gazeebo

and I begin killing people for no reason at all other than the fact that I don't like the cut of their jibs.  I grab a guy by his face, slam his head on the ground and then step on it.  As I step on his face I realize that I was barefoot.

I remember specifically thinking how real that felt for a dream.  Then I pull out a glock and shoot this other guy  in the face.  I never got around to finding a girl but I thought about what more I could do.  I could only think of one cool thing.  I wanted to  fly to the moon. I jumped up into the air and blasted off into space.  A little into the flight I realized that I might want to put a space-suit on.  (Apparently this is low-level lucid dreaming - where you're aware that you're dreaming, but you don't realize that you aren't completely

in control and you forget that you cannot be harmed. ) I couldn't make the spacesuit appear so I just gave up on that. I am flying toward the moon at an exhilarating rate, however it doesn't appear to be getting any closer.  So I drastically change speeds.  Finally I am almost to the moon but I can't get it to look like the moon. I could only get it to look like Earth so I bypass it.  Then I try again but the moon just looks way too small and doesn't ever look like the surface of the moon but rather just a bunch of grey images and static.

I end up in a dark neighborhood and I see a car approaching.  It's a car full of the women that were supposed to be the three women I picked

earlier.  They were all smiles and extremely sexy.  I jumped in the car to drive toward my lair to give them each a ravishing.  I hear squeaking from the 'real world' and I realize that something is attempting to wake me up and I fight it at first, but I couldn't any longer. The birds near my window totally blocked me.  That's all I remember.

I have never had that many lucid dreams all in one night that I remember. The best tip given on the site is to even question reality in your 'waking life'.  You might want to try this throughout the day but especially at night.  Routinely question your reality.  Look at digital clocks to see if digits can be formed.  (Usually they cannot on a digital watch.)  Also, in my first dream - I didn't understand why my light didn't come off.  Then I remembered this movie I watched (which you should watch if you haven't) called Waking Life.  They mentioned that lights are virtually always impossible to turn off.

Another thing that was mentioned on the site below, as well as on the movie, was that if you read text you'll find that the text changes if you read it again.  Really, if you've even gotten to the point of thinking to do these things in your dream then you're already there.

Another thing I did that the site below suggested was that I question reality in my waking life, since you can never be 100% sure, after all.  I know it seems a bit silly to ask yourself right now if you're reading this and if your existence at this point is real, however, more often than not you think your dreams are real and you fail to question those as well.  Get in the habit of asking yourself about reality and performing severaltests throughout the day and you'll find that it will almost become second nature to do the same thing in your dreams.

It mentioned to chant something like keep telling yourself that you're dreaming as you're falling asleep.  What I did instead was I kept telling

myself , "If I see someone other than my son; I'm dreaming. If I'm somewhere other than my bedroom, I'm dreaming."

I kept repeating that over and over and it got into my subconscious and I had no problem at all becoming lucid.  What I also noticed was that the dreams were like watching HD tv when you are aware that you're dreaming.  When you think about it, images are basically constructed in your mind anyway - so what can create the crispest images than the actual source?  Everything seemed so real even when I knew they weren't.

I realize now that the quality of my lucidity was never a constant.  Sometimes I didn't realize the full power I had even though I was aware I was dreaming.  Other times I realized I was invincible and that's when it is really fun.  I can't wait to try this again tonight.

So I told some people my dreams and they jokingly (maybe) think I'm pretty fucked up in the head.  Hey, I just knew I was dreaming, right?

Would it sort of be like not existing?

I was thinking-off the other day about how much of a bore life would be if I suddenly couldn't hear anymore. Than I tried answering the age-old question about which I'd prefer; deafness or blindness. I have no fucking clue. Then I of course thought about Helen Keller and her deafblindedness. Of course it would seem so much worse if you had been able to see and hear before your onset of deafblindedness because then you'd really know what you're missing out on.

Then I thought about the case of the girl who cannot feel pain; or even more to the point; the girl who cannot feel.  Now imagine if you were deaf, blind, and the real kicker is that you also could not feel.  Would you even be aware of your own existence?

What in the everliving fuck would that be like?!  What would go on in one's mind?  Would you have a personality?  Do you pretty much not even exist in the Descartian point of view?  Now I'm sure there's still got to be some sort of shit going on in your head, but what kind of shit?  If you've never had a memory of pain, what would nothingness feel like?  What sorts of things would fill up your mind as you sit in the numbing darkness?

This is really bothering me but I wouldn't go too far as to say they are suffering.  Is being unaware of your surroundings really beautiful in that it's blissful?  But another perspective outside of that person's is needed in order to apply the word 'blissful' and 'beautiful' to a state such as that because those terms are comparitive terms that the other person has no knowledge of.  I see a lot of parallels with this mindfuck and what I wrote about regarding the idea of a perfect place such as Heaven.

Ambiguous Confections

So can I eat this mutha fucka, or what?

A Day With The Dead

The other day we visited Atlanta's Oakland Cemetery, which holds many bodies belonging to confederates, Jews, blacks and some others of significant importance. I shouldn't have to mention that most of these types were buried in separate areas. (The dead can be pretty particular about whose elbows they're rubbing up against, never mind anything else that goes on six feet underneath the ground with a decomposing corpse.)


I won't bore you to tears about the cemetery, but I'll share a few pics with you. Margaret Mitchell was one of the ones I wanted to see since she's of course the author of "Gone With The Wind" and a former resident of Atlanta. It's unfortunate that the demise of such a romantic woman would be caused by something as mundane as a traffic accident (she was hit by a taxi), but I suppose there are more fascinating ways to die that I wouldn't wish on many.



I then stumbled across this burial plot of a little girl, who if I remember correctly, was one of four sisters to die of diphtheria.


It's amazing how far we've come in regard to scientific advances in the medical field which prevent us from dying of common and ubiquitous illnesses which would have easily killed a lesser prepared population of yore. I find it particularly interesting that many say we're playing God when we try to 'artificially' prolong life and decide that prayer is instead the route one should take. Are you playing God if you visit a doctor? Are you playing God if you take medication? Are you playing God if you get your child vaccinated? You are, after all, essentially improving your health which may aid you in circumventing nasty little diseases that perhaps God may have placed there to begin with. How dare you attempt to live a long and fruitful life!

Unfortunately, many do believe that the aforementioned points should be taken seriously and are devoutly against any form of medical help and that a death [actually] caused by their negligence is rather [presumptuously] a show of their lack of faith. They didn't pray or believe enough, they say.

I didn't intend to go on a diatribe about stupidity, but I suppose I shouldn't lose my head over this - kinda like this creepy statue. I wonder if the family knows that the tornado that ripped through here recently caused this, because it would be an unfortunate coincidence if this is how the person actually died.

Guadala-holla! Pt 1

I'm back!

For those of you who didn't know I went anywhere, I just returned from Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico.  And since the news of late regarding Mexico hasn't been all that much about it's scenery, food and people but about kidnappings and beheadings by the drug lords, your first reaction might actually be one of complete horror.

On my friends' Facebook status was the messages, "I'm in Mexico!"  Each of them had a comment underneath like, "be careful", or "don't ride in cabs by yourself", etc.  That's great advice actually, but it's like when things are reported on in the media, they seem disproportionately dangerous.  As a matter of fact, I felt safer in downtown Guadalajara than I do at the wee hours of the night in downtown Atlanta.  Besides, if they kidnapped me, they'd get a pretty crappy ransom, if anything at all.  Perhaps they'd even end up having to pay someone to take me back.  I don't know.  As far as I'm aware, the ones who should be worried about being kidnapped are those with 'power' and/or influence.

Also, if you're involved in the business of distributing drugs over the border to North America and you have a competitor, you're a more reasonable target.  I mean, really - if they kidnap me they pretty much eradicate half of their country's GDP for drug sales.  (Totally kidding.)  But seriously, North Americans (I didn't say Americans because we're not the only ones inhabiting the Americas, though you'd like it otherwise, you greedy bitches), if you live in fear your entire life you're only cheating yourself.  Stop being so snotty.  There's plenty of creepy shit going on in our country alone.  That doesn't mean I'm retardedly aloof either.  A healthy dose of common sense might actually help you circumvent the nasty clutches of Natural Selection and posthumously being awarded the all too common Darwin Award.

So I left on Monday evening and arrived in Guadalajara around 8:45PM.  There was a two hour time difference so I had plenty of energy when we landed.  I was there with my friends, Dawn & Ali who were there for a stop on their tour to play at Teatro Diana at the end of the week, giving us plenty of time to rape the beautiful city with our cameras.  Around 10:30 that night, we headed out to find some sort of establishment, like a disctotheque or bar.  Nothing.

Guadalajara is like the Silicon Valley of Mexico.  It's a business district and I suppose we should have figured that, but business people need to party too, right?  Also, I was beginning to think that the neighborhood 'watering hole' was more of a North American/European thing.  (I could be wrong, though.)  When it comes to drinking, you'd be doing it in a restaurant or gastropub.  I didn't mind that though.  At about 50 pesos, you could get a pint of tequila at the neighborhood Oxxo, which is sort of like their version of our Walgreens, only less Jewish...and with tequila.  Jose Cuervo was about 120 pesos (just a little over $8.)  If you really wanted to spend money, you could go all out and get a Red Bull.  One of those was about as much as a pint of tequila.  We did it big-balla style and drank the Cuervo mixed with the Red Bull because we fucking can. Of course when we were out, we mainly had tequila-based drinks, though not entirely out of customary obligation.

On day two, we headed about 9 miles from the city to an *amusement park* called Selva Majica that was actually more like a semblance of a static amusement park with your standard mobile carnival rides.  For $120 pesos, you could get the unlimited rides option, which even included access to the 'club' in the back, which provided techno music, sultry ambiance, and...bubbles.  Sadly, I believe the bubble machine was out of commish.  No one else was in there though, but we just went in just to check it out.

 

 

 

Why is it that you can't add captions to the photos on Blogger?  Anyway, above is a photo of a few locals, and of the uvula of the only lady I was inside of that whole week, dammit.  This lady was actually intended for educational purposes and not for photo-ops near her butt-hole exit-door.  Further into the tour I realized photography wasn't allowed otherwise I'd have captured for you the creepy fetus wriggling about near the end of the attraction (and the butt-hole exit-door).

The creepiest attraction there (and rightfully so) was the Haunted House, or Casa Embrujada.  First of all, my Spanish is okay - but its usefulness ceases when attempting to decipher dialects of the Mexican monster persuasion.  So not only was it absolutely terrifying not being able to see a thing, we were being screamed at in an indecipherable, deep and very baritone monster voice that was obviously growing more impatient by the second.  I guess it would have been a bad time to ask for a translator inside the mansion?  The ghost's fury proliferated after realizing we failed to acquiesce his many urgent requests.  I made out something that sounded like "LINE UP AGAINST THE WALL!" I wanted to find that wall.  I wanted to find that wall so fucking hard, but I couldn't.  Eventually he was telling us to follow him in another room.  Like the stupid broads in those B-horror movies would do, we decided it would be a good idea to do just that.  It was standard stuff - screaming, popping up behind us, slamming gates, screaming at us to shut-up.  (¡Cállate!).

For as tiny as the house looked on the outside it was sure spacious as fuck.  Felt like we were in there for some time.  That was the most frightening haunted mansion I've ever been in.  If you ever want to really give your friends or children a run for their money, go into a haunted mansion and request that they scr
eam the instructions to you in Klingon, or something.

A few more pics from Selva Majica and we'll move along:

 

  

  

As we left the park to head back to the city, a few kids greeted us outside in the front to ask us if they could have our wristbands.  The kids thought they hit the jackpot because not only would they get into the park, but with Platinum wristband status.  Ooh..Ahh.  Unfortunately, one of their friends was the odd man out without a wristband, but I wasn't going to worry too much about that.

  

One thing I wish I had more time to do was ride one of those tour buses throughout Guadalajara.  Usually I'm not one for wanting to do touristy shit but that's only when I had time to do research on the architecture before arriving.  However, we still made good use of our time by going to the local markets to pore over the wares and taste some of the foods.  My friends really loved the Horchata, which is a Mexican drink made of rice, almonds, cinnamon, lime zest, and sugar.  If it weren't a delicious enough drink in its own right, its alleged functionality for curing a hangover is a nice little side effect.  

We found a nice little place to eat in the plaza that even served a Prince Erick.  (Name spelled just as mine and everything!)  I know this seems trivial, but you gotta understand that throughout the entirety of my life I was one of those kids who stood forlorn by the rotating display of personalized keychains, coffee mugs, and bicycle license plates that always found his name sans the K.  So ya damn right I'mma take a g'damned picture of the fucking menu declaring me a prince and spelled the right fucking wrong way for once. 

I'm aware that I look like a complete nerd here, but being accosted by feral women in heat gets tiresome after some time, so I specifically asked for prescription babe deterrents.

I don't even know what it was I ordered, but it came in one of those big stone bowls that is used for grounding dried corn which is then used to make corn tortillas.    So while we were sitting down enjoying our live music, food, and lively conversation, fueled by way of our something or other round of Margaritas , some clown (literally) came by and made Dawn a blow up bunny and a different peddler sold me some roses that I of course gave to my friends.

 

And for those of you wondering, does this actually mean I'm a sweet guy?  Fuck no!  I just wanted to enjoy my dinner without someone peddling their wares up in my area!  I mean, shit - we hadn't been sat down for a fifteen minutes and a clown, a CLOWN is at our table, blowing into balloons and assembling them so that they may take on all kinds of forms!  If my friends want to think I'm a great guy because I handed over a few pesos for a latex bunny and few flower corpses, then so be it! We all win!  ;) 

 

Alright, my fatigue is rendering me a bit ornery so I'm getting some rest and I'll be up at 1 PM (in your face, ex-JPMorgan Chase co-workers that still have jobs!)  I'll update on the rest of my trip in another post.  

zzz...

Guadalajara! Guadalajara!

Tomorrow at 6:30 PM EST, I am departing for Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico!  The last time I went to Mexico was before September 11th, 2001 (prior to the passport requirement for visitors from the United States).  I was in San Diego with my family for the vow renewal wedding of my parents.  All we had to do to get to Mexico was walk maybe a mile from the border of San Diego and then go through some revolving doors.  Once inside, there were taxi drivers lined up to take the anxious visitors to the club district.  Our taxi driver didn't mind that about seven of us squeezed into his cab, including our 18 year old cousin who would enjoy his new-found legal drinking status.  Our driver was so anxious to please us and get us to our destination in a timely manner that he selflessly ran all of the red-lights along the way.  What a pal. 

I know many of us in The West have a preconceived notion of Mexico that was shaped by American pop culture; from a sombrero clad mouse named 'Speedy Gonzalez', to a burrito loving Chihuahua with an accent similar to that of Antonio Banderas.  I wholly take offense to this simple view of our friends to the South.  It's a shame that so many people write off so quickly the depth, and richness of a peoples' culture because of some ready-made stereotypes that better represent those doing the stereotyping than they do they people the stereotype aims to simplify.  (Okay, of course it's fun to stereotype amongst friends though -- and when I finally do come across a local taking a siesta under the shade of a tree with a bottle of Patron in hand, I'll be sure to point it out to everyone around me.)

I don't expect Guadalajara to be like Tijuana.  Just like in North America - you wouldn't expect that some po-dunk town be representative of all that we have to offer here in the states - just as I don't expect my only true visit to Tijuana be the indelible impression I'll be left with of this beautiful country.  (For a truly inspiring story of Mexico, read this blog entry, "Mexican Extremes" from a writer at Fieldreport.com) Guadalajara is the second largest city in Mexico, and exerts a major influence over the whole of Mexico's economy, religion and culture.  But I wont deny that it might not be anything other than quintessential Mexico.  After all, Guadalajara is touted as the the birthplace of tequila and the Mariachi. As a matter of fact, there are plenty of Mariachi bands for hire in the area, and since my friend's birthday was this past week, I'm going to attempt to hire a few to sing a song or three for her birthday.  I'd prefer if we were unexpectedly ambushed by them during a quiet dinner, or something or they unexpectedly regale us as these Mariachi did between stops on this subway ride in New York.




My post was titled after the opening lyrics of Jose Pepe's classic song, "Gudalajara"



I'll be back with a tan, pictures, and a wife.  I hear the women there are beautiful.

Gael Garcia Bernal is from Guadalajara, so that's a start, right?

New Years and Birthday!

So what have I been up to?  Well, I went to New York for New Years Eve (by my lonesome) though I did meet an old friend up there and stayed at her place in Queens.  The last time I went to New York was during the Spring of 2007 or so.  I stayed in a hostel that time and I would likely do it again if I had to visit the city again but needed a place to stay.  I paid about $21 dollars a night and stayed a few blocks away from Central Park.  Not bad, right?  The only downside is that there is a dormitory setup, with some rooms allowing co-ed sleeping arrangments which may mean you'll be sharing a room with complete strangers of either sex.  However, you can book the room in advance and reserve a room for you and your friends so that everyone in your room will be someone you are familiar with.  Some hostels may have a couple of suites that are totally private that might even have their own restrooms in them.  On the other hand, my floor only had two restrooms.  This may not be ideal for many people, including myself, considering I had some sort of a stomach virus that first trip. 

This years trip to N.Y. was pretty laid-back, if one can say that about New York.  Of course it was freezing and it snowed the day I arrived.  The following morning I gazed out the window and walked about the streets by myself because I was so anxious to get out and explore.  Of course my friend was probably thinking, "WTF, dude", but I knew I wouldn't sleep in.  The sun was out that morning and the skies were clear, but I'll know better next time than to be mislead by the illusion of its warm welcome.  It was 16 degrees that day but with the wind-chill factored in, it was about 3 degrees.  I finally got Jen out of bed and we decided to go to Coney Island.  She hadn't visited the Island since she moved there so we figured we'd both try something new.  Yeah, bad idea.  It was reminiscent of a wasteland, abandoned by tourists, maybe because its a beach and it probably attracts seasonal tourists.

It was still neat getting an authentic Coney Island dog at the original Nathan's. Oh, the nostalgia, right?

Alright, I hate to break some hearts here, but I'm not one to romanticize things if it's unwarranted.  So here goes:  The hotdog was mediocre at best, and nothing magical happened when I ate it.  I guess being 'first' is good enough sometimes.

We stopped in a Dunkin Doughnuts and saw a couple of cops ordering some.  Of course since we're both really immature we thought it was hilarious so we took pictures because I'm sure we'll never see that again.  ;-/


We headed back after a while and Jen took a picture of something inside the subway station, but some dude that worked there thought she was taking pictures of him, so he accosted her.  She assured him she wasn't and then he chilled out about.  I'm not sure if that's policy, or if he's simply camera shy.

The ride from Queens to Coney Island was about 30-40+ minutes by subway.  It was amazing the views of the city you can get from such a ride though. On the way back I got this picture (with my camera phone, sadly) of the Brooklyn Bridge juxtaposed with a jaded local fitting-in a nap. 




Interestingly enough, there were some mariachis that came in and entertained us (or more specifically, entertained me) as I appeared to be the only one that wasn't a tourist. 



Funny enough, I didn't get any pictures of what actually went down on New Years; I was too busy drawing it all in, but I did have a great time.  We decided against going to see the ball drop, because I've heard from many people that it's not worth it. We just did our own thing and enjoyed New York like residents rather than tourists.  I had a great time.

I arrived home from NY on January 2nd, and my birthday was the following day.  My friend, Ali flew in and Dawn met me later.  (They're both in this band called Black Kids, if you've even heard of them.  They're actually more popular in Europe.)  My sister invited us all to see an improv comedy show the night of my birthday.  I haven't been to one ever before so it was a great idea.  I still contend that most of what they say is somewhat scripted.  There's no way that would work-out as it did, but I'm one of those annoying skeptics that ruins jokes and takes the fun out of shit, so who knows.

After that, I went to MJQ (a divey club here in Atlanta) and we all danced the night away.  I even literally picked-up a girl and swung her around, as my neanderthal ancestors must've done when they saw something they liked.  But anyway, I had a great New Years and a great birthday surrounded by amazing friends and fam.  Downside is that I'm now 29 (thirty-eve!)  I have a good feeling about 2009 though.&n
bsp; I finally am going to be able to take a proper amount of time to see my little boy in Jacksonville.  I'm so damn exited but it will be bitter-sweet.  I need to get back into school here a.s.a.p. and keep myself busy, because I know I want to get going on my education but I could easily just as well return to Jacksonville if things here are not worth being away so long from my son.  I'll try to keep you updated.

Hotlanta update!

So it's day #5 here in Atlanta and so far this shit is the sex.  I think not needing a full-time job at this moment might have a lot to do with it though.  The traffic can be pretty ridiculous.  I was using my GPS navigation the other day and from it came phrases that I've never heard spouted while in Jacksonville, a la "WARNING:  SEVERE TRAFFIC AHEAD" and "PREPARE FOR CONGESTION 9 MILES AHEAD.  EXPECT DELAYS."  Apparently Atlanta's traffic is a thing of legends.

I went to this quaint little pub the other night called The Bookhouse Pub that got it's name from a noble secret society lodge in Twin Peaks.   My brother, Luis, mentioned that some CouchSurfers were meeting there and then going to Clairmont Lounge afterward for karaoke.  (We ended up forgoing Clairmont lounge, but not because it's been described as a place where "strippers go to die.")  Anyway, Bookhouse Pub had a pretty extensive beer list and their appetizer menu even included fried pickles.  They didn't seem to have it though, along with a couple of other things my sister ordered.  They're a fledgling little pub so I'm sure they'll have their act together soon.  All and all it was a nice little pub--though the books there were more for decor than for reading.  Didn't see any familiar titles or interesting titles, though that could just mean I overestimated my familiarity with great literature. 

We met a guy outside who was wearing a khaki colored kilt, smoking a cigarette and generally looking like a bad ass.  He was the kind of guy that probably wore the kilt to welcome smarmy comments just so he can fuck you up.  Of course I had to ask him as unoffendingly as possible about his kilt--the man said he wears a kilt ALL OF THE TIME.  I believe him.  The temperature was in the low 20's last night so he isn't kidding. He mentioned that he is always warm, and invited me to feel his arm for proof.   He then allowed me to snap a photo of him but it didn't save to my phone.  (I didn't click 'save'.  I hate that b.s.  If I took it, just fucking save!)

I've mainly been organizing my things and trying to get settled in.  I got the chance to hit up the thrift stores.  I came across a (properly) short book on A.D.D.  I got a kick out of that, because I'm a 'tard.








On Monday I went into a Marshall's probably for the first time in my existence and what to my wandering eyes did I see?

BAM!  Well, I couldn't help BUT to see the damn things.  Shit was bedazzlin'.  Only $19, too. But anyway, turns out they are actually women's shoes, but that only matters if you're a homophobe.  I'm no damn homophobe and if I have to rock women's clothing to prove it I shall do so. 

Anyway, everything is going ammmaaaazzziiingly well.  Tomorrow my older brother is doing a topless photo shoot and guess who gets to do the lighting?  Yes, please.

Will be receiving reliable internet soon because my neighbors are kind of paying for my wifi hacking skills at this point.

Write/call/'textual relations' me. 

-Erick

Diabetes Awareness at work; You're doing it wrong.

 

I replied to the coordinator's mass-emailed message; tactfully pointing out the irony.  I'm not completely sure it qualifies as  irony, but maybe just sheer counter-intuitive, self-serving actions with a purpose?  I don't know. 

Either way, I got this response to my e-mail:

Erick,

The point you make is very valid. Pizza is not the best food for diabetics. Although the pizza they bring is a very thin crust pizza and is not as high in carbs as a pan pizza, employees with diabetes may want to bring their own lunch."

I suppose he's right- those diabetics can be so high maintenance.  This isn't about them, this is about us being aware of them.  Besides, even if it were about them, wouldn't loading them up with a carbohydrate dense, high fat content dish only make them more aware of their diabetes?  Touche', sir.


Next up: "AIDs Awareness Key Exchange Party."


Additional info:  Diabetes and Pizza 

The Homepage of the 90's

Back when the internet first became accessible to the masses in the 90's here in North America - my parents still refused to purchase a computer to access it.  They never used credit for anything and the price for one was out of reach otherwise.  That being the case, my first experience with the internet I received was via the more humble and affordable WebTV.  WebTV lacked a hard-disk for storing anything -  it was merely 'read-only'.  Nowadays, you can get a decent desktop computer for about $499 or less.  Hell, I bought a laptop via Craigslist for $145 the other day.  It isn't top of the line, but I got a good deal for the price.

Even though the computers were expensive, it was possible to get your internet free of charge (internet = AOL, by the way.) To get free internet, all you had to do was pose as an AOL staff member via Instant Messenger to an unwitting AOL'er (using your '1 Billion Hours Free' AOL trial)  and demand they provide  their sign-on name and password for verification. My god, people were gullible. (Oh yeah, and kids considered this 'hacking.' LMAO.) 

I was thinking back to the time before they had Blogger or Wordpress.  During the advent of the internet, people began, for the first time, getting a peek into the lives of others.  This led to a wide array of blogs "homepages" popping up all over the place.  Homepages were usually virtual 'welcome' centers to someone's home, with a description of what the person does for a living, with a few pictures of the family dog, etc.  This was usually exacerbated by a minimal knowledge of web designing skills combined with a high propensity for tackiness.

In the mid-nineties you actually had to learn HTML to create a "decent" webpage.  (Yes, there's even a code to create a new paragraph, and hitting 'Enter' twice did not do anything.) The learning curve was ridiculous though.  Many people were in the business of creating webpages designed to teach others basic HTML.  Some providers such as Angelfire and Tripod made it easier by providing a 'homepage' builder, but those sites were very limited in functionality.



Regardless which method you used to create your homepage, the common 90's website had most or all of these dazzling features:

1. Animated GIFs dancing across the page
2. A really stuffy picture of yourself in your Sunday best (usually donning a molester-stache).
3. "WELCOME TO" in big bold letters in colors that don't really exist.
4. Really bad music in MIDI format
   
5. Cheesy background images, usually with bubbles or something equally as tacky.

And this thing:

This
is cool!

You can really go on and on here. I guess it's no surprise then that this sort of tackiness would be the catalyst for my interest in the web and what catapulted me toward my first taste of social web interaction (a.ka., cybersex?).  The 'homepage' was the blog of yesteryear and a visitor's signature in your 'guestbook' was equivalent of today's blog comment.

When I get really bored, I am able to search newsgroups through Google for my archived conversations in Usenet groups such as alt.love, or alt.teens.poetry. where I often offered really bad advice to other teens.  (Hey, I was pretty emo.)  I wish I had known then that my juvenile banter would be indelibly kept as a permanent record in my 'internet police record', thanks to Google.

But anyway, it's amazing to me how much the web has evolved.  I no longer have to spend most of my time getting the code just right. I don't think I'm as computer savvy as I was when I was a teenager.  Things weren't as obvious and user-friendly, but that's precisely why you felt a certain satisfaction when you could center an image appropriately or successfully create a link! (FTW!)

Do you still have your old school websites out there? I deleted mine in my early 20's out of embarrassment. It was pretty bad.


This is a fairly accurate parody of what a zany 90's homepage looked (and yes, sounded) like.

Damn, that was painfully nostalgic.

Ratemyprofessor.com: What it Really Told Me

I've heard of it, but I've never bothered to check it out.  However, one of my online courses is quickly becoming the bane of my existence, requiring about 3-4 hours of reading per week, as well as requiring 4 essays within an eight week time-frame--and I need to know what's up.  This workload might seem petty to you, but I work 40 hours a week, I try my hand at raising a child--and I'm usually not one for indulgences, but on the rare occasion, I like to sleep.  I'm aware that certain classes take work - but I've taken classes as a full-time employee - and they've never been this redic.

So what's up with my professor?  Why the workload?  This is America.  We shouldn't have to work for what we want.

So, I visited the site to see if my hatred and utter disdain could be validated.  (And I haven't seen her face yet, so maybe her 'hotness rating' would justify my suffering.)

So I moseyed on over to ratemyprofessor.com and typed in her last name.  Score.  She has a four page record.

Page 4 or 4:

(Click all images to enlarge)

Record begins in 2006. 

Page 3 of 4:
 

 

Okay, so far - no problems.  It appears I simply FAIL at life.  Not one person is complaining!  Not one!  They love it!  They collectively want this teacher as their new mom. 

Page 2 of 4:

Page 1 of 4 (Most recent)

 

But what's this?! As evidenced by image #4 (exhibit D, if you will), something happened in my teacher's life around Christmas of last year (See last image). It appears everyone prior to 12/07 had Dr. Jekyll, and I'm left with the unsavory Mrs. Hyde.

Her disdain for something is clearly manifesting itself through the assignment of busywork for no reason other than the the sick, schadenfruedenistic satisfaction she gets from it.

I'm living in a "post 12/07 world" and I need to know who broke my teacher's heart last Christmas because I'mma break a jaw! 

You were afraid of what?

Yesterday evening I was working on my homework and really needed to concentrate because I was working on a test. My lil' man was being extremely boisterous - even passing gas at will. I have no idea how he did that, but he thought it was hilarious. I told him that I didn't know what I was going to do with him.

That shut him up. He became serious just like that. He said, "You're not going to do Hansel & Gretel on me, are you?"

That kind of caught me by surprise. I couldn't believe he remembered that story to the point where he realized he was being annoying, and thought I'd drop him off in a dark, wooded forest all by his lonesome because of that.

I guess "Hansel and Gretel" is one of those creepy stories that leaves an indelible impression on a kid--parents colluding to leave their children to fend for themselves in the middle of the forest at night, only to be coaxed by the irresistibly delicious home of a cannibalistic witch.

Then I got to thinking about things that I recall being creeped out about as a kid. Of course now I laugh at them, but the fear, at that time, was real....for some reason.


Does anyone here remember "Sideways Stories from Wayside School"?

From Wikipedia:

The school was supposed to be built one story and 30 classrooms long. However, it was accidentally built with 30 stories, with one room on each story. (The builder said he was very sorry.)

• 30th story – This is the highest classroom of the school. Most of the stories involve students in this classroom and take place here. The teacher for most of the series is Mrs. Jewls.
• 19th story – The 19th story does not exist. The reason is that the building was inadvertently built with story 14 directly on top of story 12. The teacher of this class is the fictional Miss Zarves. In Sideways Stories from Wayside School, the 19th chapter is omitted and in its place is a message stating that the 19th "story" does not exist. In Wayside School Is Falling Down, Allison accidentally ends up in it.
• 18th story – Miss Worm teaches here.
• 14th story – Mrs. Smith teaches here. In "Sideways Arithmetic from Wayside School", Kathy runs down to Mrs. Smith's class.
• 12th story – Nancy's friend Mac learns here, and they eventually switch names.
• 5th story – Lunchroom
• 2th story – Teacher's lounge
• b7f – Library
• b4f – Counselor's office
• b2f – Ballroom
• b1f – Principal's office and bathroom
  

I just remember the teacher turning into a ghost or bat - I can't remember exactly what it was, I only remember being afraid. Why? I was pretty sheltered as a young child.

I also remember there not being a 13th story, which as I later came to find out, is pretty standard. (I think that's pretty stupid, actually.)



Robocop was pretty bad, too. I actually watched that not too long ago, and I think I was right to be afraid of that one. I specifically remember the first time I was able to watch this. Our parents were over at a friend's home where they had this playing. I can only imagine that my parents were a little frustrated that I was glued to it, as it was my first glimpse of real violence in movies. A scene that sticks with me is of that guys body being eaten by acid just as a car plows right into him, splattering him like an egg on a windshield. I think I was okay to pee myself. Up until that point, life had been devoid of any malice and suffering. This was an awakening for me.


I don't have an excuse for this one; Peewee's Big Adventure has to make the list. First, there's the part where he's picked up by Large Marge, which as he comes to find out is actually her ghost. Sure, it's silly now because the horrible graphics only pale in comparison to what we're able to now achieve. Back in the 80's, these graphics were actually pretty damn good. (I was probably about seven or eight when I watched this, so what do I know. Maybe I was really just a punk bitch.)



Then of course those hateful clowns on there. There's a statue of one cackling at the bike rack when Pee Wee's bike first goes missing, and then the ones in his nightmare that seek to burn his bike in a pit of magma.


Stephen King's Cat's Eye was pretty scary when I was younger. I don't even remember what it was about, so I just visited the IMDB page. The only thing I remember is this gremlin-like thing that would try to suck the breath from Drew Barrymore's character and eventually got chopped up by a fan, or something.















Aside from that, I used to be afraid to flush the toilet in the dark. Something to do with this being a step in summoning Bloody Mary? I have no clue. Doesn't make sense to me now either.

I think those are the only things that scared me as a child. I suppose more things would have made the list if I was exposed to them, but I wasn't exposed to much, so what can I say?

Is there anything that still leaves a haunting impression on you? Have you revisited those things lately only to realize how unfounded your fears actually were? I know I've got to be forgetting something.