Technology is great, isn’t it? Today, I watched Christopher Healy address sixty students (students from St. Matthews and Oxford Reynosa) via Skype. The students gathered today to discuss his debut novel, The Hero’s Guide to Saving Your Kingdom. I take responsibility for that, by the way. After reading the book in November, I forced my coworkers to read it. That led my supervisor to ask if I recommended; I said yes, and today was the effect.
I learned a bit today, and not just about Mr. Healy’s writing process or what books he’s reading (The Two Towers and Deadweather and Sunrise), or the name of one of his favorite authors (A.A. Milne). Today I learned that the average Mexican reads one book in his life. One. Not one hundred, or one thousand. One. And I learned that in the midst of all that violence and corruption stands the beacon to a better future for Mexico’s youth–Oxford Reynosa. All the work they’ve done for their community and the doors of opportunity they opened for students, it nearly brought a tear to my eye. That’s the sort of thing I can get behind. And if I had the opportunity to work there, I’d run across the border in a heartbeat. Damn the risks.
So here’s what I want you to do, readers. I want you to watch the video embedded below. I want you to post it on your Facebook, your Tumblr, your WordPress. I want you to tweet it. Link it in a mass e-mail. If any video needs to go viral, it’s this video. It ends here. Stop reading.
“Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven?”* It seems spiffy enough. Too bad I don’t have the necroplasma outfit to go along with my new found sense of wanting to end the world.
As I have mentioned in past posts (see here, here and possibly here), I’ve become some guru of relationships because I have “experience” in the subject. Apparently, three serious relationships and a few trial runs equal guru status in the viewpoint of a socially awkward guy. And while I decided to play this game, it seems my “kind,” “humanistic” charm has backfired and now I’m up against the wall, repeating the same damn advice over and over. Which, by the way, is pushing me on the verge of murder and I can’t say that I’m feeling anything else but glee about it.
Cut to the chase
The guy’s a wreck. A train wreck. A derailment so befuddling that the mayor sent in another train.** I have a hard time sorting out the fact from the fiction. The stories are becoming a little bit outlandish – he told one about a girl who “whacked off a guy in class” – as if attempting to impress me. I knew “slutty” girls back in high school, too, amigo. It’s common, especially in the Valley where, apparently – according to the season opening speech – it’s easy to hook up with one for “living” purposes. (Side note: I’m not sure how much of this story is true, but apparently, my assistant picked up a hooker for one of players. Before taking her to the clubhouse, he got a little something something*** on the side.)
Not only did this socially awkward fellow know several hundred, if not thousands, slutty girls in high school, he also knew some who slept around for cash. A few of which were love interests that went south – so not a euphemism for what you’re thinking, so get your goddamn minds out of the gutter and continue reading.
“Don’t go in for the kill,” I keep telling him the same thing like a record…eh, nevermind, cliché. Yet, for some odd reason, he keeps thinking that’s the way to go. It hasn’t – theoretically – worked out for him thus far, so why take his chances? According to his history, the first girlfriend he had – which lasted only about a week or so, which doesn’t define girlfriend to me, but I’ll let him have it – was also involved with another guy. The second one cheated on him with his cousin after only six months. She later married him and is now a part of the family.
The latter girlfriend, I’m assuming, was the one that did him in. Rumor has it – he told me – that he used to buy her flowers every week, if not every day. I’m talking about expensive roses and etc. This was last year, by the way.
“Buying her flowers a week after you two got together?” I shook my head, “No, man. It’s sweet and all, but c’mon. Only a week?”
He’s a believer of love at first sight. Which, of course, is a bunch of bullshit. No one – and I mean no one – ever falls in love in an instant. Anything you feel in that first few moments is either fleeting or lust – which are the same thing.
He has an adolescent idea of love. Which is cute when you’re sixteen, not so much when you’re knocking on thirty.
Creepy issues that I swore I wouldn’t talk about but am now going to talk about
This guy has no sense of age. I don’t know if his demon – and I’m only assuming he has a demon – is reaching out to mine, but my demon isn’t into jailbait. End of discussion. I mean, mine isn’t really into anyone. It would rather be left alone. He’s admitted to having younger girls hit on him – which is weird, because I haven’t even seen women our age hit on him, but whatever, I’ll let him have it. No. Wait. I won’t.
“Man, I wish I were younger.”
“Then I could pick up the younger girls.”
“Man, that is by far the creepiest shit anyone’s ever told me. I’m gonna go ahead and pretend that I never heard it.”
And not only did he suggest we kidnap his would-be paramour, he also obtained her phone number and started texting her anonymously. Which I haven’t even heard anyone doing like ever – I was a teenager before texting was even invented.
He also thinks that the stadium is his bowl of candy, weighing his options. The guy has a Plan C and hasn’t even made any ground with Plan A – being S*****. And I’ve warned him on several occasions to stay away from a mutual friend’s 18-or-19-year-old niece because she’s a waste of his time and I admire her “I’m not into guys right now, I want to focus on my education” determination.
On the Sly
I don’t know what this guy thinks I can offer. I just know that I’ve exhausted my tips and advice. And quite frankly, I’m amazed I lasted this long.
I used to call this place the happier parts of hell; like Mexico, we’re so far from Heaven. Last night Jyg had a dream that I was a clone – or clone-like. She dreamt there was three of me – the child, the teenager and the adult. We were on the run and we ran into Miranda at some store. Miranda and I hugged for longer than I’d ever allow another human to touch me. Longer than I’d ever let Miranda hug me. I don’t know if it was awkward, but I imagine it was. No matter, dreams are just that. Moving on.
Finished reading the Christianity chapter in God Is Not One by Stephen Prothero. It’s a boring history about a boring religion founded on blood and will end in blood. It had good moments in history, Pentecostalism being one of its many perks. I don’t think I’ll spend too much time on Confucianism because it’s a topic I’m more interested in – not to mention, I consider it a philosophy and not a religion but to each his own, I suppose.
I don’t mean to take a total shit on Christianity, mind you. I think it’s just an overrated religion compiled of overly zealous bigots who aim on destruction by fulling self-prophecies such as the war in the Middle East. Of course, not all Christians are narrow-minded nimrods, just the ones that hate me.
I veered off topic. I wanted to talk about something else. Specifically someone else. Another time, I suppose. I’ll write about you again. Until now, I’ll shall leave your memory in peace.