Getting what I am owed
Current mood: aggravated
Category: Life

So I broke my silence to the "Bastard that lived on my couch" and E-mailed him this, since I felt it was about time to remind him of his obligations.
                                                     
Jeremy,
You still owe me money, remember that; $400 to be precise.  If you were hoping that I had forgotten, you are mistaken. I also have your emails saved that implicate you in drinking AND dumping my liquor down the drain, in addition, your emails implicate you in reading my email which is a violation of my privacy. 
If I take you to court on this (small claims of course), the judge will see fit to award me the settlement.  If I take you to court for this, and it gets back to your wife, I don't think you will get custody of your kids.
Pay me what you owe me and we can move on with our lives and forget each other.  Until then, you owe me money.
Your not going to school right now, you violated my privacy, you STOLE from me after I was nice enough to give you a place to stay.  You LIED about what happened between Jen and yourself.  You LIE, Jeremy.
If need be, I will insure that VOC and CAP knows about your behavior, with which, I do not believe they will look to kindly upon your behavior.
I know your not well in the head (I didn't realize that when I let you into my home), and I know that your a heavy drinker, I know that your LIES are a means for you to cope with your reality as YOU perceive it.
The rest of the world, does not go along with that viewpoint though.  There are a lot of people that think I was to kind in letting you stay after you stole from me,  I honored my agreement with you and let you stay, because that is the kind of person I am.  By lying, by continuing to drink my liquor and/or dump it down the drain, by reading my emails, you have shown the kind of person YOU are.
It is what it is.
But at the end of the day.  You owe me.
Pay me my money.
Manny
PS.  I Cc myself a lot, to keep for my records.  So there is a record of this email I am sending you.  This serves one reason and one reason only.  To insure that the record is kept straight and honest.  So that you cannot twist it into what you think is real.
PPS.  The events that transpired are also logged into my blog on MySpace as this will be, again this insures that a record is kept (in more than one location and in a location that is public and can be seen by all my peers).  This reinforces that whatever you may say or do, the real record of events are set in stone so to speak.
PPPS.  A copy of this email has also been sent to my sister in California, to insure that things are kept honest.
See this as a means of keeping the record straight for both of us.  A benefit so to speak, that insures I am not lying and you are not lying
                                                   

Straightforward I think.

2:04 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Apologies
Current mood: tired
Category: Life

Well Jeremy apologized, and even sent a follow-up letter with much better grammar to apologize for the previous one's not-so-good grammar.

Basically, he apologized for taking advantage of my kindness, admitted he needed counseling and was in the process of getting it, wants to buy me groceries to begin paying me back.

I didn't respond.  I didn't feel the need to respond, he's getting help, which is good because I had told him he needed to.

But at this point its his life, I still want him to pay me back for the whiskey and no amount of grovelling or doing me favors will win that back for me.  Its not just about the whiskey (though it pains me much), but about trust, I trusted him to come into my home and respect me.  He did not do that, and therein lies the issue, and what I perceive to be one of the biggest problems with people today.  Lack of respect, lack of integrity, and lack of ownership for the things you do.  I see it all the time at the Club, and I see it on the street and at the College.

This event, pointed out more succinctly, how much of a problem that is becoming.  In addition, what Jeremy did was ruin it for other people, I will be extremely hesistant, if not down right against, helping somebody out like this if it comes up again.  That's sad, but that is what Jeremy has done, whether he may ever realize that or not, whether he will ever find that out or not.

I really wish I could take the entire month of August back.

1:45 PM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Some people are just ungrateful!!!!!!!
Current mood: pissed off
Category: Life

Well Jeremy is gone from my couch, I held my tongue despite discovering he had drank more of my liquor AFTER tellling him not to do it.  Almost a whole bottle of Ciroc vodka gone (never opened), probably took a sip from the Tangueray 10 (its down somewhat), all the Bulliet bourbon is gone, almost all of what was left of a 1.75 of Absolute vodka (there was 3/4 left) gone, almost all of a fifth of Absolut Pear, gone!  Not to mention what he had drank before.

To top it off this is what he wrote:

2:28 AM - 6 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Student questions
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

A student at school recently sent these questions to me, I decided to post the questions and my answers:

1.    What type of work is available in the gaming field?  Depends on what your interested in, if your interested in the artisitic aspect, then jobs such as 3D artist, concept artist, GUI artists and animator are available.  If you are a programmer, then jobs such as Physics engine, effects, AI, animation, Front-end are available. If your interest are more on the administrative side, then being Producer is more of what your job would be.  Finally, if your just wanting to get your foot in the door, being a video game tester, is the absolute bottom tier entry level job you can get. 





2.    What type of soft ware am I looking at to farther my career    in gaming? Photoshop, any of the Big Three 3D programs like Softimage, Maya, and Studio Max to start, and Flash if you are going to be doing front end.  C++, Java if your going into the programming end.  Plus understanding how computer networks work, how creating versions and being able to revert to previously saved versions work, how to use Database archive programs work.





3.    What is the most positive outlook that will help out to better my life? Life is up and down, always, but in the end it always evens out and overall it always goes up.  But you have to let that happen and realize that life is an overall long-term process, and it cannot happen overnight.  You have to work at it and have patience with it.  You have to not let short-term issues seem like long-term issues and derail you from your long-term goals.  Always stay chipper, honest and realize that YOU need to be happy before and above anything else.





4.    Will this carrier benefits everyone? This career will benefit anyone who is interested in creating something that will further their skills, further a cause, further a product and further their caree.  You have to want it to happen to benefit you, it won't happen on its own.





5.    What it you're best time you have had in you're carrier? The best times are always with the people I have worked with.  The job can be hard, the hours long, the rewards seemingly minor compared to the sacrifice, but all things can be weathered if you have good friends and good times around you.  Trust in your team, trust in your friends and have a good time.  Your in an office with a group of talented, bright, and fun geeks who for the most part will share your interest and are goofballs to boot.  Revel in it.





6.    What are the worst times? The long hours with no action between them.  The worst times have been sitting for 6 hours without feedback, unable to touch anything for fear of breaking it, and then finally at 3am you are told you can go home or that you have to fix something that will take you five minutes and wait again for another 2 hours.  Those moments are the most frustrating and you have to accept them as part of the job.





7.    What did learn in your choice of carrier? What is most important to me.  I choses a career path change to take control of my life and my career and have my own business.  Unless you can get involved with a crack group of programmers and artists and find someone to back you financially, and put out an awesome game.  You will be a cog, granted a cog (if you work for the right company) who will have the opportunity to put out a game that YOU will get to see on the shelf and point to and say, "I did that!" with pride.  I digress, I learned hard work, patience, perseverance, efficiency, and multi-tasking





8.    Do you plan to help others to make their choice easier in life?  I do all the time.  I get asked by "kids" all the time who want to start their own game companies what its like.  I set them straight, not to dissuade them, but to see reality.  Most people think that making a game involves putting one programmer, one artist and a great game idea together and you can put out a game.  The logistics of it escapes most people.  How is the game different from other games?  What are the logistics behind the games architecture.  What platform are you shooting for and how will you implement the artwork and programming to sync with that platform.  Who is funding this?  Are you shooting for doing this yourself (very, very hard), or are you looking for funding to become a Third-party developere?

7:47 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

But why is the Irish whiskey gone?
Category: Life

So here it is.
Two Tuesdays ago, I decided to be a good samaritan and allow a down and out fellow student into my house and sleep on my couch.
Nice enough guy, talks to much but overall ok, cannot hold his liquor.
But.
I find he likes whiskey.
So he proceeded to drink two of my bottles that I got from Ireland.
I can only get them from Ireland, and it was very expensive to ship them here.
I'm not replacing them anytime soon.
One of them, I never got to open myself or even taste.
Needless to say I was pissed.
I asked him what possessed him to do that, I asked him why he drank them dry, asked him, WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY!
All.....in a quiet....and calm voice. Stern. But quiet.
He stuttered and made excuses like, did he do that? I didn't know bro, I just though it was plain ol whiskey. I'll buy you new ones! You CAN'T!!!
still
in the
calm voice
I swear I almost killed him, I wanted to kill him, kill him then throw him out.
but
I made an agreement.
So, he is not to touch any of my booze anymore. if he does then he leaves alive or dead he leaves.
But he leaves.
This is what happens when you are nice.
On another note. The unemployment office is taking away my funds because I'm going to school during the day, when it will interfere with my getting a job.
So i have to change my school schedule to nights. When that happens then they will pay me they said.
They actually wanted me to cancel my classes and move to nights TODAY! Meaning disrupt my classes and hopefully find the same classes available in the middle of the MOD (the equivalent of changing my schedule in the middle of a quarter or semester). I pretty much told them they were crazy and unrealistic.
Not sure I'm going to change my schedule anyway. I like my schedule as it stands. I like the hours I work at school and it leaves me free to teach my Drawing class on Mondays, and doesn't make me late for work at Area on Thursday. It sucks but I might just not take them up on their offer.

1:06 AM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

Buried Alive
Current mood: worried
Category: Dreams and the Supernatural

So last night or rather early morning I had a horrible dream.  Not because of what happened but because of what didn't happen.

So I had gone to Wyoming to investigate a gentleman for some reason (that wasn't made clear in the dream) and had just left the man's business.  I had gotten into my car, when someone attacked me from behind and drugged me with chloroform.

When I came to, I was still in my car, but the car was on its tail end and there were bodies in the car with me.  To  my surprise I still had my cell phone and I got called by the man I had gone to go see.  I had gotten to close you see, and to keep me from getting closer, he had his associate knock me out. 

The end result being, that I was now in my car with bodies (I could hear their gasses escaping) and was about to be buried in a cemetary somewhere in Wyoming with my vehicle.  He had left me my cell phone, so that he could gloat over what he had done

They started burying the car, and I frantically started seeing if the cell phone would call out from its location.

To my surprise, I was able to call my older sister Maria, but she and her husband were either to busy or acted like they didn't take me seriously about my predicament.

Then I called my youngest sister Beatriz and got the same response.

Finally, I called my mother and while she cried (I began to cry also) at what I told her, she said there really was nothing she could do.

There then came a weird moment, where somehow I had astrally projected myself to my parent's house and met up with my mom and sisters.  I was able to converse with them and they joked around, but finally I had to interject (the after all could see and hear me) and  ask why none of them was going to save me from my predicament.

They finally fessed up and said, they just didn't beleive me and thought it was some sort of joke (cruel joke) I was playing on them.  Rather then check up on it, or call the police, they felt it was better to not play into my joke and indulge me.

Obviously I was shocked.

The dream pretty much ended right there.

Comment based on current events.

My sister pointed out that this dream and what happened to my uncle seem to coincide, its probably just that: coincidence.  Yet, the timing is just weird.

9:54 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Superman Dialogue
Current mood: giddy
Category: Blogging

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PdWF7kd1tNo

I LOVE this bit in Kill Bill 2! Although Bill does get some of it wrong. Bruce Wayne IS Batman, it is the persona he became to get ove his guilt of LETTING his mother and father get gunned down in that alley so long ago. Bruce Wayne is his born name, but that persona died; now he avenges his parents and all victims of crime.

9:11 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

The Child-A short story
Current mood: content
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Child

Prologue

Imagination.
Webster's Dictionary defines imagination as:
1: the act or power of forming a mental image of something not present to the senses or never before wholly perceived in reality
2 a: creative ability b: ability to confront and deal with a problem: resourcefulness c: the thinking or active mind: interest
3 a: a creation of the mind; especially: an idealized or poetic creation b: fanciful or empty assumption

I wonder?
Has anybody ever let their imagination get away from them?




October 22, 1994
The rain, I can hear it driving against the walls of the cabin. The wind like some damn banshee, obscuring the sounds of the night, I need to hear, I need to listen for it.

God what a dump, I don't know why I picked this place, wait, I know why, whom am I kidding? What could be more fitting for my impending death than this place? With its leaking roof, its earthen floor, the rotting stench from the dead mouse in the corner.

I made this happen, I created this nightmare, and I put myself here.

"Mister Edward Salamanca?"
"Yes that's me."

No one else will die from my sin, no one but me perhaps, but that seems fitting.
Something is outside.
The Child is always outside; always waiting for me, seeking my approval, seeking my love.

"Tu vas a hacer un buen curandero, mijo, " my abuela used to say, a good healer.

Yeah right grandma. I wanted to be a writer, to escape from my past, to be more than the sum of my parts.

My parents were poor dumb Mexicans, from some little town named Tlacotalpan. I was ten when they brought me here to the US of A. A dumb Mexican kid, but smart enough to realize the power of education, to realize its ability to allow one to escape, escapes from one's own past.

"Mister Edward Salamanca?"
"Yes that's me."
"We'd like to ask you a few questions," the man outside my door flashed his badge, "its about the murders on campus."
"Of course, come in please," I ushered them through into my apartment, "am I a suspect?"
"Not yet. Just need to ask where you were last night."

Where I was last night. Its always that question.

Since I first wrote that story after the dream, it's the same question. No matter where I go, where I move to, what job I have. It's the same question. Where were you last night?

"I was on a date, with Bethany Summers, she can verify this," I gave him her number.

It's always a date, never more. It's always the same, no emotional attachment, no love, maybe just sex, but that's it.

Especially when the Child shows up.

The first time I saw the Child was in a dream, in it I was a serial killer, in the dream all my pain, all my anger poured out to hurt people. All of the victims deserved their death, so I believed.

"Mister Salamanca, I want to commend you on your short story," my professor looked at me over his glasses, "well written, riveting, from the heart. I thoroughly enjoyed it."
"Thank you sir."
"If you don't mind I want to submit it to a friend who publishes short stories, I'm pretty sure he will accept it. Keep this up, you'll make a name for yourself Edward."

I beamed with pride; finally, I had broken the chains of my past.

But nothing ever came of it. Oh the story was published, and it got great reviews, but I couldn't top it. Offers came and were dropped due to lack of product. I got jobs here and there teaching, doing odd jobs when teaching wasn't available. Always moving, always staying ahead of the Child.

"Did you hear what happened last night?" my date said.
"Hmm? No what happened?"
"A woman's body was found in a dumpster. The body was stuffed into a garbage bag," she furrowed her brow, "she had been mutilated, cut up into pieces, her eyes, ears, lips and ugh…. other parts missing." She shifted uncomfortably.

My blood ran cold. This sounded all too familiar.

"Really? Last night?"

I went immediately to the police, explained that somebody had copied my stories serial killer's M.O.

Of course I became a suspect.

I would grow familiar with that scenario. Becoming the suspect. After all, everywhere I went, people ended up dying. Like the serial killer was following me.

It got worse when the Child started to leave tokens in my apartment. Like a cat leaving a mouse. Was it trying to garner my approval? Every time I told the police, not wanting to hide anything, wanting them to catch the Child.

The Child.

I started calling it that because it was like a child, wanting my approval, showing off. Mostly because, whether or not I wanted to admit it, I had created this monster of a person; the Child was duplicating the actions of my serial killer.

That is until I actually got to see the Child.

Well that was a waste of time I thought. Could have at least gotten laid out of that, especially for the money I spent on dinner. Oh well.

I saw the body as soon as I walked towards the bathroom. It had been set up on top of the toilet looking to the entire world like a drunk.
I fell against the hallway wall, scrambling to get away from the body, it was a body, I was sure of it (its head lolled to the side unnaturally, its eyes dead as they stared into me). Then, I saw the Child in the bathroom mirror, open at an angle so I would see the conductor of this tragedy. Was that me I saw? No! That's impossible! It stared back at me with a face born of nightmares, misshapen, but distinctive in the eyes for sure, the eyes I had looked at since I could remember.

I ran from the apartment screaming.

When I returned with the police, there was no body, no sign of anything having happened at all. This was a new game for it. It repeated this game over the course of years, leaving me the body for me to find, hiding within my home (once while I was with someone in my bedroom!). Those poor souls, I never knew them, they were never found like the other bodies, as if it knew the danger it posed to me by being prideful.

That's when it dawned on me that the Child was more than just some madman, a crazed fan wanting to emulate my serial killer. No, the Child, was the serial killer, somehow brought to life by what? My dreams? My desires? Was there an inner need to hurt and lash out? Did this thing, this Child born of me, looked upon me as its father?

The rain outside gave way to a storm and the air filled up with vibrancy as lightning began to flash outside, the accompanying thunder lashing against the building echoing the ominous dread in my heart.

How or where the Child stayed when it wasn't killing was a source of worry for me. Did it eat, sleep, get sick or did it tuck itself back into my subconscious, waiting for some trigger to draw it forth to maim and kill again.
More and more I came to believe that the Child resided within me, it always knew where and when I moved. My credit is wrecked, I pay everything with cash but fortunately I seem to have a knack for hustling some money. The Child helps as well, when it leaves me any money found on the victims. I also tried something once just to make sure, but that didn't work either.

I watched the fire burn the manuscript out in the alley, the fire dancing, mesmerizing, it had dawned on me that by burning the manuscript, which the Child had come from, perhaps it would snuff it out, kill it outright. I think its working, there was a howling from somewhere down the alley, the Child, I'm sure of it. Screaming in its agony. Lights were coming on in the buildings surrounding the alley, but so far the Child hadn't tried to stop me, and it's wailing was only getting worse. Then, I saw it, the steam from its body rising from behind a dumpster, the wail getting closer, it was running full tilt towards the fire!
Despite my fear, I placed myself between it and the fire. It had to end! If it killed me, then so be it, but somehow this hell had to end.

The Child stopped short of me, its skin blistering in front of me, despite any evidence of its cause.

"WHOOOOOOOAAAAAUUUUUGHHHHHHYYYYYYY!!!!"

That face! It would haunt me for the rest of my life, literally melting from the heat placed upon its flesh. The Childs eyes pleaded with me to stop, but there I stood, with this twisted thing in front of me.

Slowly, the fire died down, as the wind began carrying what was left of the manuscript away. The Child stood, its expression changing from one of pain to one of hurt, the one baleful eye still left analyzing me, but the damn thing still stood!

It hadn't died, and with a wheeze it ran from back to where it had come from in the alley.

From that moment on things changed between the Child and I, it became more malicious, I could feel it following me at all hours of the day and I knew that somehow it would be in my place, hiding.

It's wheezing unmistakable.

Somehow the burning of the manuscript had hurt it but not killed it, and it was then that I realized it was linked somehow to my soul. True, the manuscript was a part of it too, but in the end, it was my life that was the key.

It was angry with me now, and it began killing more and more, as if in a rage. I realized that as long as I remained within populated areas, people would continue to die. Packing up what little I had, and using most of the money I had saved up, I rented this cabin, fully intending to live off the land once supplies ran out. It was going to be rough, but at least other people would be safe, and who knows maybe it would give up? I mean, not having anybody to kill up here, what would keep it hanging around right?

So here I am, listening to the storm outside, having thought the Child had given up after a few days. But I can distinctly hear the wheezing outside, even above the storm, it had followed me, I guess in the end, I knew it would.
I'm writing this as a testament to my sin, I dared to dream and write out my fears and my anger. The darkness that secretly had laid in my soul had taken form.

"Tu vas a hacer un buen curandero, mijo."

I have always denied myself my past, been ashamed of my background. This thing, this Child, was the result of that, a grim reminder of a part of my soul seeking freedom from my own prison.

I hate people. Their fakeness, pretending to like me, I know they don't like me, looking at my skin color and not at what I'm capable of doing. Mexicans, I hate them too, and the feeling is mutual. They're jealous of me, because I fit in better than they do, because I'm not lazy, smelly and I'm smart.|

Well, to all of you, this gift I give, my hate. I hate myself, I loathe myself, and I hate the Child, because it's me.

The door handle slowly turned.

My name is Edward Salamanca, I was born in a little town you never heard of in Mexico, called Tlacotalpan. I'm 38 years old, and I wrote a story once about a serial killer, that actually made me some money, not to long ago. I'm single, no kids and I have no siblings, no friends.

Slowly the door opened, letting in the moisture from outside.

I will most likely die here, alone, which is appropriate. It will kill me I think, because as much as I hate it, the Child must hate me too. It probably hates itself, and only sought the love from the one person it felt it could connect with. I taught it the folly of that emotion, love, it leads to nothing and it knows that now.
Shuffling footsteps approaching, the wheezing very apparent now.

I don't want your pity. I deserve this. My god it's getting closer! It's breath blowing past me in great bouts of steam. I could feel the threat of its presence, very different from the alley. That time it practically pleaded with me to stop the pain, crying as I the Father hurt it.

Now, it hated me, I have taught it to not trust, to realize life is about keeping friends and family at bay. You have to protect yourself.

Its face was close to his now; the one eye staring with anger at Edward, its mouth slack jawed, drooling.

Perdoname abuelita, no te creí, I didn't believe you and I shunned you once I got older. I believed you ignorant. But you knew, you knew! I could have been more and I threw it away when I threw part of myself away. The Child was my penance for that.

Slowly, it reached out for him.

I don't have much time! It's going to touch me and I don't know if it's going to kill me! I'm a shit, I'm sorry Mom, and I'm sorry Dad. I didn't appreciate you.

It touched his coat.

It's…touching…me! Oh…my…God!

Epilogue

The storm continued, and the fireplace continued to cast its warmth upon the room.

Slowly, the door closed shutting the storm out, and the cabin remained quiet, the only sound besides the wind and rain, the splashing of footsteps running away; the howling of something inhuman crying out its pain to the winds.

1:37 PM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

My Rant (Haven’t done one for awhile)
Current mood: accomplished
Category: News and Politics

Do Utah Liquor Laws prevent alcohol abuse?
"Utah Sucks! "If you're a bartender like me, you hear this all the time, usually after you tell a customer you are not able to put more booze in his drink after they try to convince you to. By enforcing the law am I deterring him from abusing alcohol, I don't think so.
I believe it makes the problem worse, and changes nothing when it comes to underage drinking. People will still buy booze, and buy a lot of it from the liquor store. Unlike bartenders who are trained to cut off a drinker before he gets worse, liquor store reps have no idea or really care what a person is going to do with the 5 bottles of Evan Williams whiskey when he gets home. I can control a person's consumption, and make sure he does not leave the bar so far gone he won't be able to drive or get him a cab if he isn't able to drive at all.
People will find ways to get drunk no matter what, and restricting their drinking habits at private clubs will not stop that from happening. People will drink more at home, and sometimes drive to the club after consuming a fifth in order to insure they get drunk and not have to pay so much money at my bar. Don't worry we cut that guy off right away. But what if he doesn't make it to the bar at all?
As far as underage drinking, kids will always get there hands on booze and they are smart enough to know that if they can get vodka, why bother with wine coolers. This in reference to the new law put out that takes wine coolers out of grocery stores and into state liquor stores, because as Senate Majority Leader Curt Ramble, R-Provo suggests, "The date suggests where these beverages are more available, there is a higher probability of later alcohol abuse and other substance abuse.
But as Rep. Paul Ray, R-Clinton, a member of the Legislatures conservative caucus, who has no tolerance for underage drinking and frequently tags along with police to bust minors says, "I've been out with law enforcement riding along when they busted parties. They find the hard stuff like rum and vodka, which you have to get from a liquor store. Whoever buys it for them, I don't think it's going to matter."
In the end, by making Utah Liquor laws stricter, you encourage an extreme underground alcohol consumption industry. Remember the Prohibition? The forbidden fruit is quite tempting and people still found ways to drink, not only that but you end up encouraging people to break the law and illegally import liquor into the state anyway.
People will drink no matter what and the state will still get its money from taxing alcohol, unless it wants to lose money, which I believe the state does not, then they will loosen up the liquor laws and let people choose for themselves how they want to drink. After all, isn't individual freedom at the fundamental core of our American values anyway?

3:11 PM - 2 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

Flash Story
Current mood: amorous
Category: Writing and Poetry

The Lover

He kissed her, delicately, feeling her skin under his carress.  The love he felt, such love, born of desperation for the fleeting time left to them.

This love forbidden and misunderstood, how soon their time must come to an end.

Gods! To feel her again tomorrow, seeing her lovely face, how cruel the labyrinth of destiny, bringing chance meetings.

He dressed as she slept, deep her slumber, leaving a rose beside her head, a gift, its red echoing the red on the sheets.

2:07 PM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment