infosoldier.com

Veinte diez. Dos mil diez. Nuevo año, nueva vida. Feels ironic somehow...

Ciento noventa. Uno. Nueve. Cero. Son los días que llevo... llevaba... sin escribir en el blog.

Como dice Vico-C en Aquel Que Había Muerto:

Leo un corréo electrónico. Me lo envía un ex compañero de trabajo. De cuando inútilmente me daba de con las paredes intentando mejorar al país. De cuando recibía porrazos, bien merecidos, de aquellos que habían venido antes de mi. De aquellos que sabían que esto no lo mejora nadie.

Me acordé. Porque había empezado yo a escribir el blog. Para el desahogo personal. Para aflojar la creatividad usando la escritura. Para hablar de lo único de lo cual creí que estaba cualificado para hablar. De mi.

Pero...

El desahogo...

El desahogo fue la razón principal.

...

...

Es tiempo de volver...

Twitter is a tool to... OK, I'll stop it now...

Twitter, at it's heart, is a micro blogging tool. However, in my opinion it isn't as much a tool to talk about yourself, as it is a tool to read about others.

Because when twitter really, REALLY becomes interesting is when you get a community whom you can identify and whom also identifies with you.

This, however, posits an interesting conundrum. Who should I read on twitter then? For me it's mostly other Puerto Ricans who are on twitter who are also engaging in witty banter, idle chitchat, or helpful advice.

Here's a list of twenty-five twittericans you won't be wrong to follow:

@anamrosado
@ancient_buho
@attenea
@dianadhevi
@edythemighty
@gabopagan
@jmonterrey
@Joenid
@joeprog
@jorgebauer
@katsushiro
@lherrero
@lucymfel
@miguelrios
@mutantreptile
@petevalle
@punkylady
@rafamejia
@rafitorres
@ramcosca
@rmediavilla
@theblogmachine
@zensolo
@zerito
@zerock

So which one of those is me? Well, I'm not on that list. But don't worry I'm not that difficult to find! See you on twitter!

So, um, fellow boriblogger Rafi Torres tagged me in his 7 Things You May Not Know About Me meme post. I really dislike "forced" memes and never participate in stuff like this. I will comply because... well, because Rafi has made me laugh too much on Twitter, because I'm trying to be a good citizen of the twitter/boriblogger community and because I told myself to do things differently this year. I will however not tag anyone else because I like to see grown memes die. Yes, I am insensitive and charming! ;-)

Here goes nothing:

1. Perhaps because of my upbringing I have lived a rather sterile life. I've never gotten drunk into unconsciousness, never smoked a cigarette. I have never been imprisoned and I rode a police car once because my cousin, a policeman, was driving it. I've only been out of Puerto Rico once. I've never done no drugs. I've never been disloyal to my wife or paid for a prostitute. All this "correctness" sometimes grates on me.
2. I remember the last time I confessed to a priest. It was the day before my wedding. I told the priest in no uncertain terms that I did not believe in god. The priest absolved me, but gave me no penitence. Perhaps he knew it would have been moot.
3. For those of you who've only known me on Twitter: I am not bold and funny. In real life I am shy, serious, and downright boring. However, if I get to know you and trust you then maybe maybe I'll be different...
4. Also for the people on twitter: I do not believe any of the good things I say about myself. I don't think I'm smart or intelligent, confident or capable, not even humble and certainly not brave.
5. I always buy the cheapest clothes possible. I know that clothes make the man. But I have no idea how to make myself look better, so I don't even try.
6. I am a somewhat well controlled (digital) packrat. I have thousands of comic books. Hundreds of books. Almost every mainstream video game console made and all the video games I have ever bought. I have hundreds of thousands of Japanese AV and gravure idol pictures. I have gigs of digitized video, pictures, books, music, games and whathaveyou... Just. Like. All. Of. You!
7. I used to go fishing with my dad at Isla de Cabras... For all the whinnying I do about my father I have to say we did spend some good times together. I remember always falling asleep on the way home while listening to Quique y Tomás... And that's all I gots to say about that...

And there you have it. Seven things that, perhaps, you didn't know about me. Seven true things. And for being true they are absolutely boring and uninteresting, the same as my life. That's why I tend to "enhance" the truth when I write on my blog... To try and make it interesting.

Now excuse me while I go get high, steal a cop car, fuck some whores and knock off some gas stations!

the information soldier is the filthy by-product of clean living...

I remember the first time I opened my eyes...

... After two-thousand years.

I saw that silly old woman. That silly old woman and her cat. I had laid dormant for...

... Years?

... Decades?

... Centuries?

Her husband had hidden me in the granary, away from prying eyes. Or perhaps, I had always been there and they just built the granary around me. Found there, or put there, it made no matter. The silly old woman's husband was dead now. Old age and a life of hardship took him in. She said that in his last hours she had wanted her to sell me. So that she did not have to take over the farmer's duties. Ensure a comfortable life for her own last days.

But she didn't. She couldn't. Her husband had loved me too much, she said. He believed I had warned off evil all of these years. "How could I?", she recalled, "He talked as much to you as he did to me."

"You were the child I couldn't give him. That spark of hope I could not myself produce.", she said wistfully.

And so, instead of selling me. She sought to revive me. How she did it? She wouldn't say. She only said that, "The price of your resurrection, was your memories."

Indeed, my memories of war where now gone. Like a hazy dream I could only remember bits and pieces of the many marches into war, the retreats, the failures. All the victories, all the enemies slain, all the battles fought? Forgotten!

She told me, "There will be no more wars for you." She smiled as she said, "You will learn to love the soil; just like my husband."

The silly old woman was right.

I took up the chores of the farm. I learned to love the farm, the land, the peace.

And nine years later, she was no more. How long did I stood next to her dead body? If it hadn't been for the cat I would standing beside her still. The cat went about it's life as if not much had happened. And I did the same.

I would be there criss-crossing the land to plant all sorts of things, too many to name. But then, two things happened that changed my entire being. Two things happened the same day...

I found my old sword.

And then the kitten was dead.

I couldn't stay and watch the land die around me, too.

That silly old woman was wrong.

I went out... looking for a war!