Rob-Rivera.com

Choices

To prove to you just how inherently moronic I can be if given the chance, I will give you this prime example that proves to both you and me how irrational and nonsensical human beings can be. Imagine, if you will, that you’re in a neatly-planned out neighborhood… like the one where “American Beauty” takes place. “Pleasantville,” even; the point is that the place is neat, suburban and suspicious in how in-place everything is. You are wearing a suit. It’s black, and you’re wearing a hat not unlike the one Dr. Watson always wears when he’s out and about with Sherlock Holmes, looking for clues. You’re standing in the middle of a driveway and no cars are passing by… all you hear are the birds playing within the trees that stand all along the sidewalks. There are many houses lined up one alongside the other with nothing to set them apart until you look straight forward and see 2 of these houses; they catch your attention because unlike the other homes along your sights, these two have very distinct colors. While the rest of them are a bone white, these two houses are red (to the left) and blue (to the right). They’re vivid. Alive. They stand out and you can’t help but stare.

You notice there is a chair standing right beside you. Without much else to think, you take it and sit down to marvel at what lies before you. Properly now, you sit and watch.

The homes, their construct is the same as the others. They’re just another pair in the species, if you will. Nothing extraordinary about them in essence but it’s in the details that these two stand out.

The red one’s absolutely beautiful; its lights are bright, the color red is warm and inviting… it seems like there’s an artist living in there, someone that’s creative in the purest sense of the word and the house reflects it, though subtlely. There’s so much potential, it’s magnetic just how much you want to step into the house… the door’s unlocked, but you don’t know whether to go in or not! It’s such a perfect mess that you’re afraid to barge in and break something, severly crippling the order of things.

Then there’s blue. Blue is serene and graceful, truly a sight for sore eyes. Blue gives you the sense that whether it’s messy or not in there, it doesn’t matter since it’s such a safe haven. It’s welcoming, filled with the things you like and have liked for a long time. it’s warm in such a safe way that you can’t help but be pulled by it. The house is serene. No hardships, no need to push any furniture around or check if there’s warm water or not… it’s just right. It’s the house your parents would wish for you because it has everything you could ever need… it’s the safe choice. The logical one. Suddenly… poof! Blue’s door opens wide, as if it was an open invitation to come inside. Blue has it together.

So, you have a choice. You can’t live in both homes. Two seemingly normal constructs, places that take your breath away where you can lay your hat down. Red is such a chaotic mess that it could very well mean the most intense extrasensorial experience of your life. Blue is warm, comforting, and you’ll never have to worry about feeling insecure about staying there as long as you want. There are no surprises with Blue. Polar opposites, different in what they possess inside of them yet they produce the same response from you, these houses standing right next to each other before the charming man in a suit and hat. What would you do? Which one would you pick? Would you pick what’s safe and sound or would you pick what’s chaotic and exciting?

At the AlmanaqueAzul.org site, there’s this discussion in the Chumico Redondo entry that caught my attention this morning. Chumico Redondo is one of the many beaches that’s suffering from the gigantic urban planning construction companies are imposing on them, and home owners from the place think they own the beach as well and as such try to kick out any beachgoer who’s in their right to visit the beach, which is free and public for all. We get these assholes all the time in the comments sections trying to stir the shit but what I usually do when I see one of these comments is what I’d do which any other one: correct the spelling and approve it. AA is supposed to be an open forum for discussion and I’m no one to be choosing which comments are approved and which aren’t, save very special exceptions. Anyway, the offender this time around was this guy named Rixxx who did his run-of-the-mill threat to beachgoers, urging them to not go to Chumico Redondo because it’s privately owned (a lie), but at least he had the common courtesy to say that there’s a public area we feeble peasants can use. The one that really knocked it out of the part though was this one girl whose handle is La Tigresa… seriously, I can’t make this stuff up:

Estoy con Rixx respeten la propiedad privada pedasos de racas que nosotros los yeye no nos gustan que ustedes se metan en nuestras propiedades, es más Rixx cuando quieras te acompaño para que agamos cacería de racas en Chumico Redondo para espantar a esos diablos de nuestros terrenos los cuales los únicos que tenemos derechos a entrar a allí somos nosotros los dueños

– La Tigresa

2006.10.29

This stuff is priceless. Normally I swim around the pond looking for dumb fish like these and when I finally find one I go “Mmm, lunch.” This one didn’t seem like she was worth the effort though, considering she comes through as a snobbish 14-year old who doesn’t know a thing about life in the outside world. It was just too easy, so I let this one get away… but then, she insisted:

por ultima vez les repito no venga a Chumico Redondo ese es territorio privado y se los encontramos por ahí los vamos a linchar con nuestras motos OK! Rixxx tu me apoyarás en esto….pedado de idio….

– La Tigresa

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice… not only was she threatening to play out her twisted Mad Max motorcycle bondage fantasy with our esteemed readership but she was talking like an ass, come to think about it. Anyway, long story short I politely yet assuredly told her that there was no need to insult other people to get her point across. Then, I might or might have not made a pass at that “pedado de idio…” comment at the end, there. What can I say? I have this thing where I like to rattle people’s cages. My devilish charm did not amuse this pussy though, turning her in Mumra-like speed into an honest-to-goodness fire crotch. The rest of the discussion is inconsequential, really… she tried to make a pass at me with her undead claws and I dodged them using my awesome mutant powers. If you’d really like to know what went down just click here. The point with this “story-within-a-story” is that if I see a situation where I feel challenged or something that might or might not harm me, I feel fucking compelled to go to it like a moth to the flame. I actively look for idiots like this girl so I can spin them around for a while, my reasoning telling me that they’re insensitive idiots and they deserve. This fire crotch sure as hell deserved to be outsmarted even though she’s a pre-teen that probably fucks her Tae-Bo instructor in the exclusive gym’s locker… you know, that exclusive gym her parents pay for her so that she has some place to go and something to do because they’re too busy to be her parents. Truly sad. It’s worse than letting the TV be her babysitter… least they could do is buy her a Wii; at least then she’ll be improving her hand-eye coordination and the Wiimote is a great substitute to the other fun-sticks she’s used to handling. God, I’m mean.

I don’t know which house I’d pick, but my behavior tells me I’d go for the one that is the most challenging. I’m the Evel Knievel of interpersonal relationships. Come on, though; I’m trying to straighten myself out! Still, some old habits die hard: you can never leave behind what you once where, not entirely. I’m rambling again… I’ve got a headache and it’s not letting me think coherently, it seems. By the way, did I tell you that the Proud Panamanian returned? Twice? Yes, I agree that she’s not nearly as interesting as when she first surfaced a month or so ago, but I think I made the choice of not making yet another post about her… I kinda dig that my “mock you” post was written as if she were a man. Oh, sweet irony! Also ironic is that both posts that birthed this gangrene-ridden beast are in the top ten to your right… Luba being numbers 1 and 2 is now just funny. Anyway, I chose not to talk about her anymore because if there’s one thing I don’t need is burnt-out idiots that can’t read worth a damn. They’re fun for a while but their luster goes away rather quickly. Panama’s full of them, too… at least that’s what it would seem; we like to be troublemakers. Case in point: Marco’s near-meltdown because I came down on him since he didn’t bother to show up for the Zombie Walk. I personally thought it was funny when Marco came to me all upset because he kept being told that I was flaming him in this here chunk of the Internet and Marco’s absolutely right when he says that the people who sent him these emails and messages or whatever were only doing it in order to start a conflict. Assholes, I’ve known this jackass for half my life. Nobody’s perfect, but I’m pretty sure that at this point you’d only separate this friendship with brimstone and hellfire. Quit it. It hurts his feelings whenever someone says something bad about him and all it manages to do for me is piss me the hell off. Like a bug bite. I hate bug bytes. They start itching and then I have to scratch because I can’t help myself… it’s just bad and pointless all around. Seriously, whenever I hear him depreciate himself thinking I’m kicking him out of this neighborhood I’m touched, but then I say this:

“Don’t be an idiot.”

And move on. He’s a witness to that. I don’t like it when the guy’s down and particularly sensitive to anything anyone says. To me, he’s that house on the corner that’s a complete frat-boy mess but I know it’s gonna be the most awesome time I’ll ever have anywhere in the known universe if I drop by and say “hello…” can’t help but love that. For all intents and purposes, the guy needs a break from all that’s happened to him and what’s happening with him presently; if it was my choice I’d have PortoDiao.com help a lot more than it is now… sadly, I’m still getting a hang of this whole promoting/cultural movement thing, so I can’t do much more yet. Yet. Ahh, choices… to either ignore or acknowledge something. To do or not to do, to say or not to say. To take a chance or to not do it. So many choices with so little time to make them. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the decision maker, but then again I’m too proud and opinionated to let myself be pushed around. Head’s hurtin’, I’m outta socks and it’s cold out here… which house would you pick?

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