Final Proyect

When Carol Rumié started dating Lourdes del Castillo, who would later become his wife for more than 50 years in which they had 4 children, 9 grandchildren, and one great-grandchild, Andre´s Rumié, his father, would always tell his only son not to go since it was very dangerous and it was possible for Carol to lose his life. If Lourdes and Carol were going to the theater, Andrés showed Carol some newspaper articles he had saved from long time ago. These newspaper articles had as a title, “The Berlin Theater fell apart and left 73 dead people and other 16 injured” or “Tragic destruction of theater in Oakland causes 112 deaths.
If Andrés Rumié could not persuade his son to stay home, then his second advice was to leave the girl behind and run for his life, in case a tragedy was taking place. Andrés said “Your life is one. Girls? You’ll meet a better one in the street corner while you run out of the theater”. Several years later, sitting at the dinner table, Carol remembered his father’s advices and gave them to his grandchildren.
Carol also got from his dad the intolerance to little children, to noises, to black people, to old people, to ugly people, and to ignorant people. Despite this, Carol had several house workers who shared some of these traits. Rosiris, for example, was both black and ignorant, but deep inside, Carol adored her. She pissed him off daily when she dropped something and the noise it made Carol nervous, or when she flirted with his grandchildren’s bodyguards and forgot to do her work. Rosiris was sincere and honest and also loving, which made her win her boss’ heart. Elvira, on the other hand, was the laziest worker. She left all the work for Rosiris and her only job was cooking. She was too lazy to speak. When you greet her, and ask her a question, she just laughs, but doesn’t speak to you. When she does, you can’t understand her because she is too lazy to pronounce words properly.
Carol was terribly intolerant to old people because he, himself had gotten old and lost all his good looks, which he believed, made him the most handsome boy in the entire planet. He was tall, skinny, blonde, and had blue eyes. He was now old and ugly, and he hated that. He hated watching himself in photographs and in the mirror. One day, Lourdes and Carol were going to an elegant party, so they got dressed up very elegantly, and when they were leaving the house, they stopped in front of the mirror and Lourdes said: “Carol, how handsome we look in these elegant dresses, don’t you think?” “No, Lourdes, we look like iguanas! Everything hangs from us!”
Carol’s wife is the most tolerant old lady in the world. She could her husband’s intolerance and her house workers mistakes or their laziness. She also tolerates the fact that Hannibal, their house guard, loves jumping off moving buses in order to break his leg. It’s a popular hobby, in Cartagena, to misinterpret the traffic signals in order to get killed, which is their goal and happiness. Moto-Taxi drivers love driving at 100 miles per hour so that they can crash with a bus and probably kill themselves, their goal, and their passengers, who at times might be a fat lady holding a chocolate cake with one hand and the motorcycle’s helmet in the other. Other people in Cartagena wait for the traffic light to get to green so that they can cross the street and get hit by a car, meanwhile, taxi drivers, mostly, wait for the traffic light to get to red so that they can accelerate and crash with vehicles coming from the perpendicular street. Pedestrians get killed while crossing from one side to the other side of the street. A dog, not necessarily a trained dog, can cross the street without getting hit by a car.
Carol and Lourdes got married and had 4 children. The oldest is Carol Andrés Rumié del Castillo, Carol Jr. When he was born, Carol was terribly disappointed because Carol Jr. looked ugly, and had dark hair, unlike his father and himself. Andrés, born in Lebanon, loved blonde hair since there were few people in his homeland with that color of hair. Carol and Andrés believed only blonde males were handsome. They had the strong conviction that Carol Jr. was cursed with bad looks for all eternity. Carol said his son looked like a bald rat. A few years later, Carol Rumié would remember the day his oldest son was born, and the disappointment he felt because his son would never have the good looks he had, instead, he would have a rat-like appearance.
After Carol Jr., Maria Margarita de las Mercedes, Jorge Enrique, and Sergio Alfonso were born. These last three were born blonde. As years went by, Jorge’s hair became browner and curlier, and Sergio’s hair fell off. Maria Margarita did stay as blonde as she was as a child, so blonde she was known as Ruby because she was rubia, which is blonde in Spanish. A few years later, Ruby took Maria Margarita de las Mercedes’ place in her ID card and in Ruby’s passport. None of Ruby’s children are blonde, but she did not feel disappointment as her father did because she was not at all obsessed with beauty, as his father did since he believed he was the most beautiful being ever born on Earth.
Carol Jr. the rat-like creature ended up being the most handsome man in all of Cartagena. Everywhere he walked by, people started stuttering and women fainted. When he played basketball, the court got full of cheerleaders supporting him. When he walked across the streets, cars stopped just to see him walk by. Then, Carol Jr. became famous because he was the main character of a commercial of Talco Powder. He was then known all around the country.
The commercial showed Carol Jr. running and sweating, and afterwards, using Talco Powder around his chest. Then, watching the commercial, and the popularity amongst the women his oldest son had gained, Carol Rumié remembered that disappointment he felt at the room were his son was born.
Jorge Enrique, Kike, was also very popular amongst the women. He brought a new girlfriend home and introduced her to his parents every month. Lourdes, who after being very strict, harsh and cruel to his children when they were small, had left the cruelty behind and become a loving lady for the rest of her life, fell in love with all of Kike’s girlfriends and was badly harmed with the breakups. Carol Rumié forbid Kike of introducing his girlfriends to the family. The only one he could introduce was his fiancée a month before the wedding. But it was not Kike who introduced his fiancée to his dad, it was a nail polisher.
Leila Gonzales, Kike’s wife, was dating Kike, and she did not know Kike’s parents. She only knew that Carol Rumié was tall, blonde, good looking, handsome, and loved cursing about everything and saying things were Japanese. One day, Carol went to the barber shop to cut his hair, wearing the same shirt he was wearing the time when his friend Antonio Rodriguez challenged his brother, Juan Rodriguez, to a gun duel over their farm, and Leila was sitting with the nail polisher. Leila has a Brazilian look, and when Carol Rumié saw her, he tried to make her fall in love with him, despite the fact he was married to Lourdes del Castillo. So Carol Rumié started to converse with Leila. He flirted, and Leila flirted back. Leila started wondering, who in the world was this good looking old guy who was flirting with her. When the nail polishing and the haircut was done, Carol offered Leila a drive home, which she accepted, and as they were going out o the barber shop, it started to rain. “Damn it, where did this Japanese rain come from?” Carol said, and immediately, it hit her head, the old man was his boyfriend’s father. He was tall blonde, good looking, cursed about everything, and called thing to be Japanese. Leila told this to Carol, whose reaction was moving his head from left to right and saying: “Pa’l pelaito!” which really meant: “How the hell did Kike get such a handsome girl?”
Sergio was the shyest of the family. When he was a baby, he was raised by his maternal grandparents, Nicolas del Castillo and Honorina Mathieu because his parents and brothers were living in Baltimore. Because of this, Nicolas del Castillo gave his factory, Nicastillo, to Sergio when he grew up. When his brothers and parents moved back from Baltimore, Sergio, who was the youngest, had to find a way to defend himself of his brothers, as Ruby did. Ruby’s strategy was to throw rocks at them. Kike had the longest repertoire of bad words and insults in the world. One day, he tried to write them all down and he already had filled 604 pages. This immense repertoire was used by Kike as a defense from his older brother Carol. Meanwhile, Sergio used knives to defend himself. Every day, he got home with a new knife he bought. Sergio possesses the biggest arsenal of knives in all of Cartagena.
Ruby met Fernando Araújo. They started dating and in a month, they got married. Meanwhile, Ruby’s good friend Gretel Gerdts was dating Fernando’s brother, Gerardo, for about a thousand years, and still, they had not gotten married. Fernando was a hard worker with great discipline and magnificent values. Fernando and Ruby had four male children. According to their pact, if their children were boys, Fernando was in charge of naming them, and the contrary would happen if their children were girls.
When their oldest son was born, after seeing the world’s light for the first time, he greeted the doctor helping his mother give birth and said: “Hello Dr. nice to meet you, I am Luis Ernesto Araújo, and I am going to be Colombia’s President.” Fernando was so glad he jumped up and down in the hospital as if he had scored a touchdown or a goal.
Ever since Luis Ernesto was born, he loved being dressed in smoking. He walked around his house in smoking, he went to sleep in smoking, and he went to the park with his maid, which he would later reconstruct, in smoking. Meanwhile, his new brother was born. Fernando Nicolas was the name chosen by Fernando Araújo this time for his newborn. Fernando Nicolas was a beautiful baby with reddish hair. He was born at a doctor’s office where his uncle, Carol Rumié, was waiting to teach him insults and bad words. A few years later, Fernando would teach those bad words to his youngest brother Manuel, who turned out to be the worst spoken of the four.
Vallenato is a type of music that is mostly heard by townsmen and working class people, and by Fernando Nicolas Araújo Rumié. He loved this music and, Luis Ernesto, instead, loved the most elegant and refined music, opera. These two older brothers contrasted in almost every way. Fernando Nicolas loved black color, Luis Ernesto loved white, Fernando Nicolas loved the farm and horses, Luis Ernesto loved the opposite. They had lots of disputes and fights at home because they always disagreed in what to watch on TV, and it was hard for them to share. So, when they were about 11 and 8, approximately, they signed a contract which imposed several laws, written by them, which both of them had to follow.
By that time, Sergio Alejandro had already been born, and Manuel Santiago, the youngest, was on its way. They had moved to the building built by Fernando, right in front of Carol and Lourdes’ house. When Manuel was born, he got inches close of being taken by the family giving birth next to Ruby, since the nurses got confused and almost switched the babies around like what happened to the Storr family, who a few years later, they would discover with a DNA test that her real son had gone to their maid’s family, and their maid’s son was being raised by them. This story became very famous and TV Channels in Colombia made TV Shows based on that story.
Manuel had been born as a huge baby, and before he could even walk, he was already kicking the soccer ball. He then learned to talk and developed a deep voice which his cousins mocked as young kids. When Manuel was a little baby, he got all the attention from his parents and his older brother Fernando and Luis, which made Sergio very jealous. Because of these, Sergio did not treat Manuel well when his parents were not around. When their parents were near, Sergio would ask Manuel “Who is the cutest baby in the world? You!” But when their parents left the scene, Sergio said: “Get away from me you fat son of a bitch!”
Manuel had the most awful language as a baby. He said people had faces with the resemblance of a male reproductive organ, and he always asked people to smell his own behind. He had learned all of this because he had two great masters, Carol Andrés Rumié and Fernando Nicolas Araújo, and because he was a great student.
By that time, it was already a family custom for them to cross the street and have lunch, on Sundays, at Lourdes’ house with their aunts, uncles, and cousins. They all sat at the dinner table and every once in a while, Carol would remember his father’s advices and the tragedies shown in the newspapers, and give the same advice to his grandchildren not to go to a friend’s house, or to play football, or to play soccer, or to the island, the beach, or the farm.
Carol had nothing to do during weekdays and waited all week for Sunday, when his family members came by to eat lunch and hear him speak about different stories of childhood and adulthood. During the week, Carol got very grumpy when Lourdes’ girl friends came to his house to hear Lourdes’ lecture on History of Modern Art. He hated all of these old ladies that walked around his house. He said one of them had gone through so many surgeries to stretch her face and look younger, that she had to lie on her back in order to use the bathroom since she was so stretched that she could no longer perform that action while sitting.
There was also this friend whose breath stunk. Carol described it as the smell of a public restroom’s toilet. In fact, Carol said that the mouth of that friend was a public restroom’s toilet, and that, every once in a while, he had to pull the string and her mouth starter wobbling for a few seconds, and afterwards, the smell remained.
Carol’s happiest day of the week was Friday, when he got together with his own friends and attended a Dancing Picnic, as he called these parties. It is a mystery of what is done in these Dancing Picnics, since Carol has always refused to invite anyone to attend and always refuses to tell what went on, but it is certain that they drink a lot of whisky at those Dancing Picnics.
After a while, Fernando and Ruby got divorced and Luis Ernesto graduated from school. Then, a few years later, Fernando got remarried and then, before he could even make it to 4 months being married, he got kidnapped by the FARC. Fernando had been Minister of Development, and a few years later, he would become Minister of Foreign Affairs of Colombia.
This was a terrible shock for the whole family and it required a lot of unity and strength to overcome this difficult moments. Fernando Nicolas, who was still at school, became a sort of a father for Manuel Santiago, who had not even made his first communion and was only nine years old. Fernando’s kidnap lasted for six years, in which the family grew stronger and even Fernando, held by guerrilla members in the middle of a massive and vast jungle, became stronger and more intelligent. So strong and intelligent that a few months after he escaped from the FARC, that time’s president, President Uribe, offered him to take the office of Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Colombia. During those 6 years, Fernando Nicolas and Sergio graduated from school, Luis Ernesto graduated from the university, and Manuel had a child and lived in Santiago de Chile.
Manuel’s son was named Santiago José Araújo Puellovisbal (a mixture of Puello and Visbal, both of the mother’s last names). Santiago was one more of the clan. He loved horses and vallenato like his uncle, Fernando, his physical resemblance to his dad was amazing, he had Luis Ernesto’s curly hair, and Sergio’s big tummy and ability to make people laugh as a baby. Sergio was the funniest baby in the world who ate bread like a madman, and like Santiago, who was always asking people for bread and Coca-Cola. Santiago was a miniature of his dad and of his uncles.
Sometimes, Lourdes took his great grandson to her house for Sunday lunches. Carol got really frustrated because he wanted to get people’s attention which was focused on the baby. Once, Carol said he was going to decide whether the baby stayed, or he stayed, by voting. Everyone told him not to do so since he would lose the race, so he answered: “Not if Rosiris and Elvira vote.” Everyone laughed since they knew Carol would lose even worse if these two women voted. He refused to do the race and he had to share attention with his great grandson, something he was not used to since he had always being a only child.

Entry # 23 Franz Kafka - The Metamorphosis 2

As I have said before, in the Metamorphosis, Kafka describes moments using very specific details giving his writing lots of visibility and realism. The only problem I noticed as I read was that at often times, his writing moves on too slow, and it can get somehow, a little boring. Sometimes, it got too specific and, if you’re ignorant as me, you might have a difficult time understanding what is happening. When I bumped into one of these situations, either being slow or difficult to understand, it helped me get distracted and carried away by anything.
The opposite effect was caused on me by a well known book called ‘100 anos de Soledad’. This book, in my opinion, moves really fast and it got a hold of my attention 99.9% of the time I spent reading it. This book uses quickness and exactitude to cause this effect on readers. It was great to read these two books at the same time because it helped me understand, a bit more in depth, how these two writers write.

Entry # 22 Franz Kafka - The Metamorphosis

I am reading Franz Kafka’s work, specially his story called Metamorphosis. Something I have noticed while I was reading is how he applies lots of Visibility to his writing. In the Metamorphosis, there is a guy called Gregor who, one day, wakes up and realizes he has turned into an insect. Then, as he comes out of his room, Kafka, describes his parent’s and the chief clerk’s reactions. He uses small details. I shouldn’t say small, I should say meticulous details. These details describe the scene, in depth, and the reader is able to get a full image of what is going on which causes visibility. He describes sounds, feelings, and actions people are doing in the story.

Entry # 21 Mother's Day

‘Ma’! Happy Mother’s Day! How’s everything in Chile? Is it cold yet?’
‘Manolete, everything is great. How nice it is to hear from you. Thanks for the call my love. How is everything in Bogota?’
I called my mother to congratulate her for Mother’s Day. It seemed she was having fun. Everything was great, winter had arrived with very low temperatures, but, according to my mamma, not as cold as last year, since last year it had snowed all round the city which is very rare. For my mamma, it is a very fun season because she has to change all her wardrobe and because the city looks different and everything seem very strange for her, since she is from Cartagena, Colombia, as me. We are used to hot and moist weather, we enjoyed last winter in Chile with the companionship of my brothers and one of our cousins, Veronica.
‘Did you speak to your grandmother? Did you congratulate her already?’
‘No, ma’, I’ll call her right after we hang up. Did you speak to her?’
‘Yes, Manolete, of course I did.’
Every time I speak to my mom she gives us tons of instructions. “Do this, do that, pay this, pay that, call this guy, call that guy, ask this guy this, ask that guy that, I think you’re sick, Manolete, go to the doctor”
‘But, mom, I’m not sick.’
‘Yes you are.’
She feels I’m sick even though she is thousands of miles away from me. Eventually, I end up going to the doctor following her orders. My mother did call my grandmother. They spoke for a while, congratulated each other, and then, my grandfather wanted to congratulate his daughter.
‘Ruby, is the volcano which is about to erupt near Santiago?’
‘No, dad, it is near the boundary between Argentina and Chile. You have nothing to worry about, it is far away from Santiago and it will not harm me.’
‘Ah, okay then. Then let us hope the volcano erupts on Mrs. Kirchner and leaves her dusty and dead.’
My grandfather is really cynical and says cynical comments. Criticizes everything, and really means, but, deep inside, he is a sensitive, old, and tall man, and grumpy, the grumpiest.
‘Ok mamma, I love you with all my heart. After I hang up, I will call my grandparents, pay Nuris, and call aunt Gretel, Mari, Judith, Liana, Carolina, Leila, Elizabeth, and Diana. ‘
‘Do not forget Ofe and Katherine.’
‘Ok, mamma, don’t worry.’
‘Ah, and Manolete, don’t forget to…’
‘Mamma,’ I interrupted. ‘It is Sunday, let me rest.’
‘Ok baby. I will call you tomorrow for more instruction. Love you!’

Entry # 20 Judging

You’re judging me, sir, you’re judging me, I can feel it, I can sense it, I can see it, you’re judging me, and that is pissing me off, that is one of the things I hate the most, people judging others, people think they know everything, the think they own the truth, the own the universe, they own me, they own you; you’re making my head spin and my muscles get tense because I know, one hundred percent sure, that you are judging me terribly, the way you look at me, the way your body is positioned, the way your eyes stare at me, your entire face stares at me, your mouth, your nose, your eyebrows, ears, even your hair stares at me, judging me, and your mind, I can see what is going on in your mind, sir, I can see it, you cannot hide it, it is evident for me, I read your mind like an open book, it is easy for me to do that because you are helping me with all those evident looks your hair is giving me, I disgust you, you think I am horrible, you think I am despicable, you think you know everything about me, you think my actions in life were terrible, but you do not know me, you think you do, in fact, you are pretty sure you know me, like the palm of your hand, but, sir, let me surprise you, sir, you do not know me, not one bit, everyone thinks they know me, but they don’t, they judge me, the same way as you do, and it pisses me off, my god, it pisses me off, sir, could you please stop judging me, sir, for a bit, please, I am tired of this, I cannot take it, you do not know me, face that fact, you never knew me, and you never will, I know it surprises you, I know, I see, yes sir, I do, I can see it in your face, but it is true, you do not know me, even though you really think you do, I am sorry to tell you, sir, deep inside, I am totally different as you are picturing me right now, you are a terribly judgmental person, you judge people on their appearance, you judge them all the time, you are despicable, sir, let me tell you this, I know you, deeply, intimately, I do, oh yes, sir, I do, like the palm of my hand, let me tell you this, you are not sincere, you are unwise, you are aggressive, violent, ignorant fool, keep your eyes off me, you don’t know me, sir, face it, you are ignorant, I know you, I know why you did not shave this morning, sir, shut up, I mean, keep your eyes off me, your snare is so loud I can hear it, sir, it is pissing me off, stop chewing your gum that way, as if you were better than me, you are not, sir, you are worse, and let me tell you this, you are terrified to death, sitting here, in front of me, you are terrified of yourself sir, yes, that is what is going on with you, you fear yourself, you pretend you are confident, but you fear me, you want me to think I fear you, now, stop that evil snaring before I kill you, okay sir? Is that okay? Stop staring at me sir! Can’t you see it is pissing me off? My God! Why haven’t you stopped?

Mike Fowler's Dinner With Putin.

I think it was very interesting that Mike Fowler deicided to write this piece divided in very short scenes. Since the scenes are funny, you want to read more, and they surprise you because Putin kills his guest everytime differently. The guest is not aware of what is happening. Also, the guests' names are really curious and reveal something. Very very fun to read.

Entry # 19 Punctuation Exercise: Otto

Just forget it, my friend, forget it, and let me introduce myself first, my name is Otto Dietrich zur-Linde, and I would like to be understood; I want to tell my story so that those who come after me won’t suffer the same horrible destiny as I did, I’ll tell you what my destiny was afterwards, and yes, I already know, years will not erase every track or print of my existence, so let my case be trivial, but, till then, till then I’ll speak; yes indeed, sir, I’ve got two extreme passions, music and the metaphysics, both of which have helped me overcome tough times, of great sadness, and two great masters, Arthur Schopenhauer and Johannes Brahms, have influenced me deeply with their marvelous work since I was a little boy, a boy born in Essen, close to Dortmund and Duisburg, on August the 31st, around the year 1897, two years before Adolf was born, and incorporated to the Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei in 1929, because I believed, as all of us suffered German people believed, that this was the beginning of new times, that a new type of men was to be born, and besides, I could notice I was living during a time of big change, like the time of Jesus and the time of Mohamed, but now they are going to execute me for being a killer and torturing dozens of Jews, but it was not me who killed them, I just gave the orders to others, and I did not see a human in a Jew, but I saw all that was bad for the German people in them, and this, we all believed it, but for me it was terribly difficult because never before was I a violent man, and on the present day it is still true that I have never used or seen an execution; I do not feel guilt, and that’s why I do not seek being forgiven, but I understand that history condemns losers, and we got the loss this time, we proved the world that arrogance is the right path towards self destruction, and I do not regret anything, regretting would have no use, my friend, because I am satisfied with loss, because our loss is an end and I am tired; it satisfies me because it has occurred, because it is tied to all the facts that were, that will be, and censuring o blaspheming a single action is denying the universe, and because Adolf believed fighting for a country, but he fought for everyone, even for those he harmed, it doesn’t matter, it is not important that Adolf himself did not know this, his blood and his will knew it, what do I care if Germany was destined to be the anvil and the rest of the world be the hammer! If victory and justice and happiness was not meant to be for us, then at least let it be for other nations, let heaven exist, for Christ’s sake, even though I belong in hell, my friend, my skin and flesh may have fear, I do not.

Entry # 18 My Alarm Clock 2

Ortega is one of the best Argentine soccer players in history. Now, this story I heard about him this morning reminded me about Diego’s story. Diego Armando Maradona, to many, the best soccer player ever. As Diego’s case, many other cases began appearing in my mind. Diomedez Diaz, the great and famous Colombian popular singer who was put in jail several times. Faustino Asprilla, the famous Colombian soccer player that played for Newcastle, who had a drinking problem and got aggressive when drunk. Garrincha, the Brazilian star who died because of a putrid life he managed to have outside of the pitch. Antonio Cervantes Reyes, most popularly known as Kid Pambelé, the most famous Colombian boxer because he held the World Championship for a record amount of times. His fame led him to become a terrible drug addict and waste all of his well-earned money. Nowadays, Kid Pambelé lives in the ugliest streets of Cartagena and begs for money.
Once, I encountered Pambelé. This event occurred about three years ago. Pambelé was begging for money to every car that passed by. My brother was driving a car, and had myself as a co-pilot. My brother gave Pambelé $2,000 Colombian Pesos. Pambelé received the money and instantly dropped himself to his knees, while he shrieked a strange sound. Following that, he kissed the cars wheels and the lights. It was a horrifying scene, to observe a former Welter junior Champion of the World kissing anyone’s car for money. Pambelé was a disgusting beggar.
What would you feel if you lost everything? If you lost your friends, your family, your most precious objects, your health, your house, your money, I mean, absolutely everything? What would you feel if you had the whole world in your hands, and suddenly, you take a wrong path and you trip and fall, and the world you’ve got in your hands breaks into tiny pieces? What feeling would you get if you have just climbed to the top of the mountain, and unfortunately, you make yourself fall off right to the beginning, but this time, you’ve broke your legs, arms, back, waist, and your head while you fell? You had reached the highest point in your life where you’ve accomplished all your goals, but the next morning, you wake up, and you’re at the lowest point you’ve ever been. The lowest point any person can ever be. You’ve got nothing. The only thing you’ve got left is a horrible addiction to drugs and the memory of happy days. I imagine that feeling you get after this, would be the worst existing feeling. What would you feel if you lost everything?
I’m a fan of F. C. Barcelona, and several weeks ago, the team was playing against Real Betis. The game had the Spanish League at stake. Barcelona was winning in the first half by 0-2, but in the second half, our team through the victory away and ended up losing 3-2. I felt an enormous pain, a gigantic emptiness, an infinite frustration and will to go back in time. It’s a terrible feeling, wanting to go back in time, feeling regrets, and feeling guilty.

Entry # 17 My Alarm Clock

I woke up early, one minute before the alarm clock was set to ring. I love it when that happens, because I get to lie in bed for one more minute before getting up. That’s what I did that morning. I lied for a while, enjoying that minute as much as I could. I had my eyes closed and the sheets covered me from head to toes, waiting for the alarm to ring, but it was taking too long. This was the longest minute I had ever witnessed and I was happy about it.
Then I realized that the alarm was taking too long to ring, so I got the cell phone to see what time was it. Five minutes had gone by. My alarm clock forgot to wake me up, it didn’t ring.
I got out of bed lazily and my daily routine began. I ate breakfast, and then I took a bath. When I got out of the shower, I brushed my teeth carefully not to scratch a cut I had in my inferior gums. I got it by brushing my teeth quickly without care. Even though I tried carefully not to, I did scratch the cut a little bit with my old and cheap toothbrush.
After brushing my teeth I got dressed, picked up my backpack, and left my house yelling: “Goodbye Nurys.”
My car and my chauffer were waiting for me punctually. I realized it had been raining since the streets were wet. I got in my car after saying “Good day” to everyone in my way. Everyone greeted me gently and happily as I did.
I got in my car and set off to school. I looked at my car’s clock and realized I was already late, but, I didn’t care, it was not a big deal as to worry a lot. I just relaxed in my seat and listened to the radio.
The radio was speaking about different soccer news in the sports section. “Hugo Sanchez, Mexico’s Soccer National Team’s former coach was fired this morning because of the team’s poor performance and development during the pre-Olympics, which caused their elimination of the great games held in Beijing this year. “What a pity for Mexico this year, I thought to myself.
After that, an astonishing story made me listen carefully. It said: “Ariel, ‘el burrito’, Ortega. Was yesterday forbidden to be 100 meters near his own children after being accused by his wife of threatening and abusing his children. Apparently and unfortunately, it seems Ariel has retaken his old habit and vice, alcoholism, which causes a great sadness deeply inside, especially for River Plate fans.
I’m not a River Plate fan, but I sure am a passionate soccer fan, so, I did feel pretty sad because of the news. Ariel Ortega is a great soccer player with enormous skill and beautiful faints. It’s a pleasure to watch him play. He’s got a distinct flair, which makes people who enjoy soccer, like I do, be an Ariel Ortega fan.

The New Yorker: The Insufferable Gaucho

I read 3 pages of The Insufferable Gaucho, which I enjoyed. I could feel the exactitude on Roberto's writing. How he described the entire country and its people with exact adjectives, and also, exact actions. He uses exact names for streets, cities, which aksi makes the story realistic. The food, the customs, the dances, etc. The story was also very fluent and understandable.

Entry # 16 Semana Santa

What did I not do in Semana Santa? For sure, one thing I didn’t do, and I really missed it, was my exercise routine given by my soccer coach. I did perform it on Thursday, but I didn’t do it on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday. Why? Because I preferred drinking. No, not drinking alcohol like most people do, but drinking a medicine to avoid and stop an allergic reaction I was having. This medicine accelerated my heart rate, and my mother suggested it would be dangerous and irresponsible to perform exercise with an accelerated heart.
Drinking that medicine was not the reason for not going out partying and drinking alcohol. I do not drink alcohol, neither on Semana Santa, Halloween, my birthday, my dad’s birthday, New Year’s Eve, nor Christmas. In fact, I don’t drink alcohol whatever the circumstances are, and I don’t think I was ready to have my first drinking experience while I was taking that medicine this Semana Santa. That would’ve been completely and fully absurd.
What did I not do? I didn’t stay in Bogotá, but I didn’t leave Colombia. I didn’t go to the prairies nor traveled by bus or car. I went to Cartagena, but I didn’t go to the beach, or the pool. I didn’t get a sun tan or sunburn. I didn’t go out shopping. I didn’t buy a thing. I didn’t buy new pants, jeans, shirts, shoes, socks, underwear, caps, hats, scarves, jackets, glasses, bracelets, necklaces, or rings.
I did not have a bad time. I did not get bored at times, even though I didn’t go to the movies to watch Batman, Superman, Finding Nemo, The Departed, The Matrix, 60 Seconds, Shrek, Shrek 2, Shrek 3, The Beauty and the Beast, El Cantante or X-Men. In fact, I think I did not go to the movies to watch X-Men 2 neither.
I didn’t go to church, as you might have already noticed. I didn’t feel healthy the entire week, but I didn’t get sick either. I did get sick, when I came back to Bogotá, but it was not on Semana Santa. Well, those are several things I didn’t do, but, if you ask me: ‘Did you not visit your family?’ I’d have to answer ‘No’ because negative times negative, equals a positive.
That basically means I did visit my family. I visited my grandparents, both maternal and paternal; I visited my aunts and uncles, both maternal and paternal, and my cousins. I attended many different family dinners, and lunches, which I really enjoyed. I enjoyed the food, which was delicious, and I really missed from the time I lived in Cartagena. We had a huge barbeque with potatoes and a pie of corn, which were both outstanding. But the food was not what I enjoyed the most; it was the people around me, my family which gave me the greatest pleasure. I sat and listed my maternal grandfather’s stories and had lots of fun.

Revision #2

The officers were pretty confused with the entire situation and how Lourdes had made a big deal out of nothing. In the other hand, my mother couldn’t avoid letting out a huge laugh.
“No ma’, it was just a joke, they aren’t taking me anywhere. Relax, relax.” “Oh! Thank God, Ruby, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Both laughed again, the officers as well. I still think they are a bit confused with what happened, but, they laughed at the end.
But their laugh was different from my mother’s laugh. They got the ‘Polite Laugh’. On the other hand, my mother got the ‘Nervous Laugh’. That is the laugh you get when you are watching a suspense movie, you are waiting for something to happen, and you are somehow very nervous. You also get that specific laugh when you get frightened by someone hiding behind a door and the guy yells “Boo!” suddenly and unexpectedly. First, you jump because of fear and then you laugh. The other person also laughs nervously as they see you jump in fear.
These events’ main cause is poor communication. There are other examples of these events that have occurred at Lourdes’ and Carol’s house. One night, Carol, Fernando my brother, Carol Jr., and I were sitting at the T.V. room watching TVEspañola. Carol Jr. is my mother’s oldest brother. He was sitting at a rocking chair beside his dad, and Fernando and I were sitting at a sofa behind them, all facing the T.V. Carol Jr. had a tray on his thighs that had his dinner plate full of meat and potatoes.
He was eating like a caveman. He put huge pieces of potatoes and meat in his mouth. Strange sounds came out of his mouth as he chewed the food down with his mouth half open. He ate as if the world was going to end the next day. For about two seconds, Carol, Fernando, and I stared directly at him, amazed. Fernando noticed, by a strange expression in my grandfather’s face, that my grandfather was not at all happy with the way Carol Jr. was eating because he got distracted and couldn’t watch TVEspañola. Fernando read my grandfather’s mind, and said: “He’s eating.” Just to pull Carol’s string and see if he would come up with a funny response. “He’s eating.” Carol said and nodded. Carol Jr. didn’t look at any of us and didn’t seem to know we were staring at him.
“Hey, son, where is your wife?” my grandpa added to get his son’s attention. “Meat and potatoes,” Carol Jr. answered with his mouth full of food. It was hard to understand what Carol Jr. said when he spoke normally, and this time, with his mouth full and the incoherent answer, it was harder to decipher what he tried to say. By the look on my grandfather’s face, I noticed he didn’t understand what his son had answered, but he was trying hard to do so.
There were a few seconds where Carol just starred at Carol Jr., trying to figure out what the answer was. Fernando and I did understand what happened and what Carol Jr. had said. He was so busy eating he didn’t listen to his father’s question and didn’t mind to give a good answer. A misunderstanding had been created.
“What?!” Carol asked his son. “Meat and potatoes,” Carol Jr. mumbled a little bit clearer, but still, really difficult to understand. “She’s at ‘The Potato?” asked Carol. He had a huge confusion. “What?” Garbled Carol Jr. Meanwhile, Fernando and I started laughing at the whole situation. Both Carols looked back at us wondering what we were laughing about. We cleared things out for them. My grandfather put his upper lip over his lower lip, looked at his son, and moved his head from left to right.

Revision #1

My grandparents live in an old, big, and dirty house. Since it is so big and since they are old, they cannot take care of it by themselves. It is a custom, in Cartagena, and most of South America, to have maids, and employees that help you do your house chores. My grandparents have seven different workers. Each of them, stranger and more peculiar than the other.
Hannibal is my grandparent’s house guard. He arrives every night and leaves in the morning. Hannibal has twisted his leg three times. He twisted his leg three times getting of a public bus that drops him off a block away from my grandparent’s house.
“He loves getting off moving buses. He is so ignorant he does not know that when the bus has stopped, it is safer to get off. He just jumps off the bus while it running at 90 miles per hour, as they are used to here in Cartagena, since the driver is a bigger monkey than Hannibal, and obviously, he ends up screwing up his leg.”
That is Carol’s theory. “It would be better if it occurred once and then he learned the lesson, but it has happened three times. It is too hard for me to understand that kind of things. How can that happen? Is it that he loves breaking and twisting his legs? You see? This town is full of crazy people. I believe a trained dog, or a trained monkey could get off the bus without twisting their legs. They do not even have to be trained. ”
There’s an even stranger story. Strange things happen in Cartagena. Hannibal, one of the times he broke his leg, he had to get a surgery. He was operated. He started his recovery sessions. A few days later, he started feeling something weird in his leg. He had been noticing his leg was not going through a normal recovery. He went back to the doctor to check it out. He had to get an x-ray. When he received the x-ray back, he discovered the surgeon had accidentally left his scalpel inside Hannibal’s leg. This story was fascinating for my grandfather because it proved one of his theories that says Cartagena is full of ignorant people.
“What would you expect from a monkey making a surgery on another monkey’s leg? A complete mess. A complete disaster. You should expect the same from that surgeon making a surgery on Hannibal’s leg. You cannot judge who is worse, either Hannibal who likes jumping off buses, or the surgeon who leaves his tools inside the patient! That is the way this town is. One incoherence after the other. It is endless, never ending.”
At least Hannibal was smart enough to place a demand on the surgeon, and, at least, he won the case. Fortunately. “At least his case was not a total circus, where gorillas and dogs play like most things are in this town. No, at least his case was handled professionally and he got what he deserved. Imagine what had happened if another gorilla handled the case? What kind of craziness would have happened? You see?”
Hannibal is the reincarnation of Mike Tyson, or a gorilla. “The same thing, either Mike Tyson or a gorilla, they’re exactly the same. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. They’re exact.” Carol says every time we chat about Hannibal. “They all have no brains. The only difference between Hannibal and the other two is that Hannibal died long time ago. Even though you see him walking in and walking out of the house, day after day, he is already dead. He is a zombie. That is what I have concluded by his actions. That would be the only answer to why he never speaks, or to why you can never understand what he mumbles with his exaggerated tone of voice or to why he has always got his eyes closed. How can someone walk, watch T.V., or eat with their eyes completely shut? He’s a zombie! That is why he walks the way he does, and that is why he has the strength he has. He has the strength of a dead man.”
“But Grandpa, how did Hannibal die?” I would ask Carol just to see and listen what kind of answer he would invent. “Look, son, the answer is pretty obvious. He died doing what he likes the most. Jumping off moving buses.”
My grandfather’s capacity to come up with very elaborate, detailed, and creative answers in just a second is amazing. It would take someone hours to come up with such an answer, but for Carol, it is plain instinct, a reflex. He always surprises everyone. That’s why I do those types of questions. You see, Carol is like those type of toys that have a string, and when you pull it, they talk to you, or make a little dance, or laugh, anything. Asking Carol those questions would be the same as pulling a toy’s string.

Entry # 15 The Jew Drinker

“How can this be possible? Is there really someone as evil, nasty, disgusting and despicable?” James yelled to the floor and waved his arms emotionally. “Why man? What the hell happened? Who are you talking about?” Johnny asked James. “Yeah bro, this guy, that despicable creature, Evan. I can’t believe he said that.“Is that the little white guy that lives two blocks away?”“Yeah bro.”“What did he say man? What do you mean?”“He said, he said he loves drinking Jews. I am not even a Jew, but bro, that, I can’t stand.”“Drinking Jews?”“Yeah bro. Can you believe that?”“No I can’t man.”“Its true bro, he loves drinking them with brown sugar.”“Brown sugar? Its unbelievable man, I mean, I can’t believe it. It’s impossible to believe.”“This type of comments make me lose my temper, make me lose my mind! Make me lose control bro!”“What is up with Evan? Who does he think he is with those types of comments?”“Who? Ah!? Who? He’s despicable, Johnny, despicable!”“Let’s go find him man.”“Find him?”“Yeah, find him. Man, you’ve got listening problems.”“Yeah sure, let’s go to his place, its two blocks away, bro.”“I’ll get my bat, man.”“Ok, bro, then I’ll be Robin.”“What do you mean you’ll be Robin?“You just said you’ll be Batman!”“Batman? What I said was I was going to look for my bat.”“Ah yes, your bat, bro. Take it. Swing it at Evan’s head.”
Both Johnny and James walked to Evan’s house. Johnny held his enormous aluminum bat. When they arrived, James knocked on the door, aggressively.
“Hey, man, what if you misunderstood? What if it wasn’t him who likes drinking Jews, but it is someone else, and Evan was just repeating his words, man?” Johnny asked doubtfully.“Bro, then let’s ask him.”“Ok man, you’ll ask him.”
Two seconds later, Evan opened the door, with a glass of reddish, brownish liquid. “Hey, its J and J, how are you guys doing? What brings you around? Please come in.”“Yeah yeah, whatever Evan. Bro, do you like drinking Jews?” James asked Evan. “Drinking juice?”“Yeah yeah, dinking Jews, bro, are you drinking one right now?”“What’s the big deal James?”“Just answer me you little white something.”“Yes I do, especially with brown sugar, are you happy now?”“Happy?” Both James and Johnny said.
Then, James and Johnny exchanged a look, which basically meant ‘go ahead’.“That’s it for you Evan!” Johnny said while he swung his bat aiming at Evan’s little white head. Fortunately for Evan, he ducked just in time and Johnny’s bat missed and ended up hitting James on the chest and knocking him out.“Hey, what is your problem brother?” Evan screamed.“I JUST KNOCKED OUT MY MAN, JAMES!” Johnny was in shock, and worried for his man’s health. He put his bat down as he got on his knees to get a closer look at James. Simultaneously, Evan picked up the bat and swung it at James, hitting him on the back of the head, knocking him out, too.

Entry # 14 Carol 12

Several weeks later, Carol, Lourdes, Fernando, Sergio, and me were all sitting at the T.V. room. We sat on a similar way, but this time, Lourdes was occupying the rocking chair were Carol Jr. sat the last time. Also, this time Sergio was sitting in the sofa with Fernando and me.
We were talking about a friend of ours called Carlos, and we asked Carol to call him just to say hi and make him laugh. So, Carol got his cell phone out and his tiny phonebook where he keeps millions of phone numbers and that makes a contrast with Carol’s enormous hands and fingers. Carol dialed a number and put the cell phone to his ear, but he accidentally dialed the wrong number and called Carol Jr., who is located below Carlos in the tiny phonebook.
“Hello, who is this?”Carol Jr. asked. “This is Carol Rumie, who am I talking to?” My grandfather answered. “No, I am Carol Rumie, who am I talking to?” Carol Jr. answered, he didn’t know it was his father, and Carol Sr. didn’t know it was his son. “Ah! Are you trying to play a joke on me? Who is this? I am Carol Rumie, not you.”“This is not funny, I am Carol Rumie, now, please tell me who this is. If this is a joke, it is the most lame, @#$%^&*+ joke I’ve ever heard!!” Carol Jr. answered angrily.“You can’t be Carol Rumie, I am Carol Rumie.” Amazingly, my grandfather kept a cool temper and his son was the most altered. “OH MY GOD!”
Meanwhile, the rest of us in the room had a terrible abdominal pain of laughing so hard since we had good common sense and predicted that Carol had called his son, Carol Jr.“Lourdes, come and listen to this guy who claims he is Carol Rumie.” My grandfather finally told his wife.“Noooo, jajajaja, ‘Mono’, it is Carol Andres Rumie, your son! JAJAJA!” Lourdes cleared things out.“Aaaaah, ‘mijo’ hello.”“Pa’, is that you? I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t know you had a cell phone.”“Yeah it is me, your nephews gave it to me.”“Ah O.K. say hi to ma’, see you pa’.”
It is very funny to look at my grandfather speak on the phone, because he loses temper very quickly. Normally, he speaks two or three words on the phone, short conversations. His most frequent three words are ‘Who is this?’
I call Carol’s house to speak with Lourdes or any of the workers, rather than speaking with Carol. When you call that house, most frequently, Lourdes would answer the phone. It’s a big surprise hearing Carol’s voice answering. I remember a common Thursday about nine years ago. I was about seven years old, I was eating at my grandparent’s house, and my cousin Rodrigo was trying to reach me. He was about six years old. He dialed the number, and Carol answered the phone, and automatically, Rodrigo put the phone down, he was scared of speaking to Carol. Most of my friends, at that age, were afraid of speaking to Carol, since he is so grumpy. They felt intimidated.

Entry # 13 Carol 11

“What?!” Carol asked his son. “Meat and potatoes,” Carol Jr. answered a little clearer, but still, really difficult to understand. “She’s at ‘The Potato?” asked Carol. He had a huge confusion. “What?” Asked Carol Jr. Meanwhile, Fernando and I started laughing at the whole situation. Both Carols looked back at us wondering what we were laughing about. We cleared things out for them. My grandfather put his upper lip over his lower lip, looked at his son, and moved his head from left to right.
There was another time when both Carols misunderstood each other and assumed things quickly. This time, they’re conversation occurred on the cell phone. My brothers and I had given a cell phone as a gift to Carol Sr., since he was constantly complaining about his house phone. As soon as he received the cell phone, he complained once more, this time, about the cell phone. “Why are you giving me this @#$%? I don’t even know how to use this.”
We taught him how to use it. It was hard work, because my grandfather tried to slow his learning down. He didn’t want to make a small effort to learn and preferred to continue and complain about his 50’s house phone for the rest of his life. He refused to learn and kept on asking the same questions in attempt to make me and my brothers lose our patience and refuse teaching him. This way, he could escape having to use a cell phone. He ignored the advantage using a cell phone has.
My brothers and me didn’t lose our patience on him and figured out the little plan he had. Today, he just knows how to answer and make calls, but still, he uses the cell phone tons and every once in a while, he gives us a call. He doesn’t know how to send messages or how to respond to missed calls. “I don’t want to hear anything about those damn lost calls, missed calls, whatever you call them.” He doesn’t know how to change the ringtone or make the cell phone vibrate or play the cell phone’s games. He is not interested.
One day, the entire family was gathered after having lunch at his place. One of my brothers asked Carol for his cell phone, and activated the vibration option. Then, he gave it back to my grandfather, who put it back in his pocket and sat down. Then, Carol proceeded to tell one of his amazing stories, which are funny. In the middle of the story, my brother called Carol to his cell phone, which began to vibrate. Carol, not knowing that the cell phone had that ability, jumped off his seat as he felt the cell phone vibrate in his pocket and as he took it out he said: “Damn, this @#$% is going to explode!” He put the cell phone on a table and everyone laughed their tears out.

Entry # 12 Carol 10

The officers were pretty confused with the entire situation and how Lourdes had made a big deal out of nothing. In the other hand, my mother couldn’t avoid letting out a huge laugh.
“No ma’, it was just a joke, they aren’t taking me anywhere. Relax, relax.” “Oh! Thank God, Ruby, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Both laughed again, the officers as well. I still think they are a bit confused with what happened, but, they laughed at the end.
But their laugh was different from my mother’s laugh. They got the ‘Polite Laugh’. On the other hand, my mother got the ‘Nervous Laugh’. That is the laugh you get when you are watching a suspense movie, you are waiting for something to happen, and you are somehow very nervous. You also get that specific laugh when you get frightened by someone hiding behind a door and the guy yells “Boo!” suddenly and unexpectedly. First, you jump because of fear and then you laugh.
These events’ main cause is poor communication. There are other examples of these events that have occurred at Lourdes’ and Carol’s house. One night, Carol, Fernando my brother, Carol Jr., and I were sitting at the T.V. room watching TVEspañola. Carol Jr. is my mother’s oldest brother. He was sitting at a rocking chair beside his dad, and Fernando and I were sitting at a sofa behind them, all facing the T.V. Carol Jr. had a tray on his thighs that had his dinner plate full of meat and potatoes.
He was eating like a caveman. He put huge pieces of potatoes and meat in his mouth. Strange sounds came out of his mouth as he chewed the food down with his mouth half open. He ate as if the world was going to end the next day. For about two seconds, Carol, Fernando, and I stared directly at him, amazed. Fernando noticed, by a strange expression in my grandfather’s face, that my grandfather was not at all happy with the way Carol Jr. was eating because he couldn’t concentrate on TVEspañola. Fernando read my grandfather’s mind, and said: “He’s eating.” Just to pull Carol’s string and see if he would come up with a funny response. “He’s eating.” Carol said and nodded. Carol Jr. didn’t look at any of us and didn’t seem to know we were staring at him.
“Hey, son, where is your wife?” my grandpa added to get his son’s attention. “Meat and potatoes,” Carol Jr. answered with his mouth full of food. It was hard to understand what Carol Jr. said when he spoke normally, and this time, with his mouth full and the incoherent answer, it was hard to decipher what he tried to say. By the look on my grandfather’s face, I noticed he didn’t understand what his son had answered.
There were a few seconds where Carol just starred at Carol Jr., trying to figure out what the answer was. Fernando and I did understand what happened and what did Carol Jr. say. He was so busy eating he didn’t listen to his father’s question and didn’t mind to give a good answer. A misunderstanding had been created.

Entry # 11 Carol 9

She came close to the scene, but, the officers send her away fast. “Stay away! Don’t come any closer.” Even though she said she knew Lourdes, they send her off. Then Ana called Luis Ernesto, my oldest brother. “Hey! Two officers have Lourdes outside her house with her arms up! They think Hannibal has broken into the house and have hostages and want to rob Lourdes’ money! Come here quick and try to help!”
Those types of events, extraordinary, can only occur at my grandparent’s house. It was amazing what a big coincidence everything had been. I mean, what are the probabilities for two officers to misinterpret my grandma’s words the way they did? What are the chances that that happened to Lourdes, the most paranoid and sweet lady on Earth? It was incredible to see how the event had turned out. I mean, who could imagine? What were the chances that Ana Judith was walking by at that precise moment? This is a true story, I did not make it up, I do not have a creative mind as my grandpa Carol.
This event is so rare and funny that it reminds me of a comedy show called ‘Seinfeld’. I’m a lover of ‘Seinfeld’. The show is wonderfully funny because of how unique, odd, weird, and particular each character is. They all have a particularity and crazy customs. They are all maniacs. They always create confusions with a simple thing that happened, all characters get involved in the confusion and it makes a big mess.
There was another situation involving police officers and my grandma. This time, my mother was involved as well. At the entrance of my grandparent’s there are two parking lot spaces. There is a small roof over the parking spaces. When it rains, pedestrians walking near their house decide to stop and rest below the roof to avoid getting wet.
One day, two police officers were driving their bike and it was raining, they decided to rest under my grandparent’s entrance roof. A little later, my mother was going to visit my grandma and was parking her car at the parking space below the roof, beside the two officers. Simultaneously as my ma’ stepped out of the car; Lourdes opened her house door and saw two officers looking at my mother as she stepped out of the car. Lourdes and her creative paranoid mind imagined the officers were there to interrogate my mother or to put a ticket or something of that type.
“What did she do officers?” Lourdes asked, and before the officers could answer, my mother answered: “They’re taking me ma’, can you believe it?” Lourdes is the most innocent creature on Earth, and she bought my mother’s story. Lourdes got on her knees and begged the officers not to take my mother. “No! Officers please don’t take her, I swear she is a good lady, don’t take her, I will take care of her if it is necessary!”
The officers were pretty confused with the entire situation and how Lourdes had made a big deal out of nothing. In the other hand, my mother couldn’t avoid letting out a huge laugh. A nervous laugh.

Entry # 10 Carol 8

My grandfather’s capacity to come up with very elaborate, detailed, and creative answers in just a second is amazing. It would take someone hours to come up with such an answer, but for Carol, it is plain instinct, a reflex. He always surprises everyone. That’s why I do those types of questions. You see, Carol is like those type of toys that have a string, and when you pull it, they talk to you, or make a little dance, or laugh, anything. Asking Carol those questions would be the same as pulling his string.
A few years ago, my grandparents had not hired Hannibal to guard the house, and burglars broke into the house. They tied both of my grandparents to a chair, tied they’re workers, and stole precious objects they had. They stole a wrist watch collection my grandfather owned and several jewelries my grandmother owned. Both my grandparents were shocked by that robbery. They are both hugely paranoid and that is why they decided to hire Hannibal. Since then, no more robberies have occurred, but a very strange incident happened.
One day, there was a police motorcycle with two policemen, riding around the city just to check things out. By coincidence, they passed in front of my grandmother’s house right in the moment that Hannibal was helping her get inside her house. The policemen observed Hannibal’s physical aspect, and they believed he was a robber who had forced Lourdes inside. Both policemen got of the bike and ran towards the house, took their guns out and rang the bell. Lourdes, who had a few seconds ago entered and is the most paranoid lady in Earth, opened the door.
“Yes, officers, is there something wrong? How can I help you?” “Lady! Put your hands up! Don’t worry; we will get that burglar out.” “What? What burglar, do I have a burglar in my house? Oh my God!” Lourdes was about to faint. “Yes, lady that guy that opened the door.” The policemen said. “Oh, no, no, no, that is a worker of mine; you don’t have to worry about that.” Lourdes tried to explain things to the policemen, but, unfortunately, they didn’t believe her. They thought Hannibal had threatened her to tell the policemen that everything was fine, so that the policemen would go away. “Put your hands up lady! We will take care of it!”
Rosiris, one of my grandmother’s maids, saw how the officers didn’t believe Lourdes for much she explained. She went running upstairs to find Carol, so that he could explain the situation to the policemen. She enters the room and finds Carol without his shirt on watching T.V. She tells him the story with a lot of nervousness and panic. Suddenly, Carol responds: “Its fine, tell them to take her! That would be the best they could do! I’m not going downstairs.”
At the same time, a paternal cousin who lived next door to Lourdes, Ana Judith, was walking by. She saw the whole scene and couldn’t believe it. Two armed officers were aiming at my grandmother who was pale as snow and had her arms risen as high as she could. Ana Judith knew there had to be some type of misunderstanding.

Entry # 9 Carol 7

That is Carol’s theory. “It would be better if it occurred once and then he learned the lesson, but it has happened three times. It is too hard for me to understand that kind of things. How can that happen? Is it that he loves breaking and twisting his legs? You see? This town is full of crazy people. I believe a trained dog, or a trained monkey could get off the bus without twisting their legs. They do not even have to be trained. ”
There’s an even stranger story. Strange things happen in Cartagena. Hannibal, one of the times he broke his leg, he had to get a surgery. He was operated. He started his recovery sessions. A few days later, he started feeling something weird in his leg. He had been noticing his leg was not going through a normal recovery. He went back to the doctor to check it out. He had to take an x-ray. When he received the x-ray back, he discovered the surgeon had accidentally left one of his operating tools inside Hannibal’s leg.
“What would you expect from a monkey making a surgery on another monkey’s leg? A complete mess. A complete disaster. That is what you should expect from that surgeon making a surgery on Hannibal’s leg. You cannot judge who is worse, either Hannibal who likes jumping off buses, or the surgeon who leaves his tools inside the patient! That is the way this town is. One incoherence after the other. It is endless, never ending.”
At least Hannibal was smart enough to place a demand on the surgeon, and, at least, he won the case. Fortunately. “At least his case was not a total circus, where gorillas and dogs play like most things are in this town. No, at least his case was handled professionally and he got what he deserved. Imagine what had happened if another gorilla handled the case? What kind of craziness would have happened?”
Hannibal is the reincarnation of Mike Tyson, or a gorilla. “The same thing, either Mike Tyson or a gorilla, they’re exactly the same. Both mentally, physically, and emotionally. They’re exact.” Carol says every time we chat about Hannibal. “They all have no brains. The only difference between Hannibal and the other two is that Hannibal died long time ago. Even though you see him walking in and walking out of the house, day after day, he is already dead. That is what I have concluded by his actions. That would be the only answer to why he never speaks, or to why you can never understand what he mumbles, or to why he has always got his eyes closed. How can someone walk, watch T.V., or eat with their eyes completely shut? He’s a zombie! That is why he walks the way he does, and that is why he has the strength he has.”
“But Grandpa, how did Hannibal die?” I would ask Carol just to see and listen what kind of answer he would invent. “Look, son, the answer is pretty obvious. He died doing what he likes the most. Jumping off moving buses.”

Entry # 8 Carol 6

Lourdes is planning her lesson and does not have time to speak, so Carol always gets frustrated and gives up. He sits in a rocking chair beside Lourdes, turns on the T.V. to TV Espanola. When he gets bored, he imitates my grandmother as she writes down notes in her notebook. He imitates how intensively her pen moves up and down and how hard the pen hits the notebook. He then gets bored of that activity and proceeds to his nap.
Carol has an enormous bed in order for him fit comfortably and properly. He sleeps perfectly still, he does not move. He naps for about an hour, or sometimes two. When he wakes up, he changes his clothes and gets prepared to leave again. Most of the time, he has no event or hobby or fun thing to do. His only choice, you could guess, would be going back to “La Tinaja”. Few are the days when one of his friends invites him to a little reunion to talk about nonsense and drink whisky.
Carol loves whisky. When there is a reunion, he takes his own bottle, his own cup, and his own Styrofoam refrigerator with his own ice. He does not like other people’s ice, even if the reunion is at a restaurant. He always takes his own things. He also gets a little shovel for himself to pour his ice in his cup. He does not share with anybody.
When he is going to out to a reunion, he walks out of his house in a different way as if he was going to “La Tinaja”. The way he walks, his face gesture, it’s different. When he is going to a reunion, you can feel, you sense his happiness. He gets to talk nonsense and drink whisky around people that laugh at everything he says. The way he walks out of his house, he walks as if he was dancing to a rhythmic song going on in his mind. He also has a big smile in his face, not evil, but happy. He is so spontaneous, you can easily see what he is feeling.
My grandparents live in an old, big, and dirty house. Since it is so big and since they are old, they cannot take care of it by themselves. It is a custom, in Cartagena, and most of South America, to have maids, and employees that help you do your house chores. My grandparents have seven different workers. Each of them, stranger and more peculiar than the other.
Hannibal. He is my grandparent’s house guard. He arrives every night and leaves in the morning. Hannibal has twisted his leg three times. All of them, getting of a public bus that drops him off a block away from my grandparent’s house. “He loves getting off moving buses. He is so stupid he does not know that when the bus has stopped, it is safer to get off. He just jumps off the bus as it is moving at 80 miles per hour, as they are used to here in Cartagena, and obviously, his ends up screwing up his leg.”

Entry # 7 Carol 5

When he arrives, he sits in the same seat he sat on the morning when he ate breakfast. It’s around 11 o’clock in the morning, and Carol is served his lunch by one of his employees, Rosiris. His lunch is always the same: meat, rice, potatoes, and a salad made with lettuce, tomatoes. He pours a lot of lemon into the salad as well as vinegar. He has a device that helps you squeeze the lemons. You just have to cut the lemons in half, and then put a lemon inside the device. Then you press the device and out come the juice. The acidic juice in lemons has eaten the device up. How old can that device be?
Carol is served his salad on a separate dish from the meat and rice. He eats the salad first. When he’s done, he drinks the leftover lemon juice on the dish. He then moves the dish away and grabs the other plate, the one with the rice, meat, and potatoes. He eats his lunch fast, as if he was in a hurry. When he is done, he stands up, goes to the refrigerator, opens the door, takes out water bottle, drinks the amount of water he likes, and puts the bottle back in. He does not use a cup or anything similar; he drinks off the bottle that is for everyone’s use. That refrigerator is full of chocolate boxes never being open, sometimes chocolates bitten and then put back in; water bottles are half filled, you find boxes of candies that have been there for ages. Who knows why don’t they throw them out?
When Carol is done having lunch, he goes upstairs back to his room. Normally, he finds his wife writing from one notebook to another or preparing that afternoon’s and evening’s lesson. She does that if she’s not in a lesson. My grandmother teaches History of Modern Art at her house’s living room. She takes notes and copies notes and recopies them into new notebooks, and so on. It’s a never ending system. She’s got thousands of notebooks which are perfectly organized on a library she has at her house. That library is full of dust and spider webs. It looks as if it was two thousand years old. She also records TV shows or movies that will help her with her lessons.
If she’s in a lesson, than my grandfather goes directly to his room and puts on his pajamas to take a little nap. He hates those lessons full of old ladies. He hates it that when he is having lunch, there are old ladies coming in to his house, saying hi to him as he is eating, and then go upstairs to the T.V. room or to the living room, where the lessons are held.
If my grandmother is not in a lesson, then she is planning it. Carol goes upstairs to find Lourdes his wife planning her lesson in the T.V. room. When this happens, then Carol sits around in the T.V. room trying to make a conversation with Lourdes, but, he is never able.

Entry # 6 Too Long

Too long

“Hey you, it wasn’t too long for me, man.”
“I want to bong for you? Bro, I am not bonging for anyone. Who do you think I am? A bonger?”
“Bonging? What is your deal? Who told you anything about bonging? It’s always the same when dealing with you man, it’s impossible.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Come on, did you already forget what happened the other day? The big fight you started man?”
“Fight? Ah yes, the fight. But bro, that wasn’t my fault.”
“You were the one who misinterpreted the other guy, and since you are so hot tempered, you had to punch him in the face! Man, I’m telling you, it is hard to deal with you.”
“What was I supposed to do bro? I thought he’d said: ‘It’s the gay over there that’s causing the fire.’ ”
“No man, you’re nuts. He said it was the hay. You see, you have listening problems. Look, I just told you it was too long, and you started arguing about bonging man, you see? Get the point? You make assumptions too quickly. You also get upset too quickly. You’re like paranoid all the time.”
“Paranoid? Bro, it isn’t my fault that people these days don’t know how to speak clearly. It is a complete mess to have a conversation with someone. You think they call you ‘gay’ or they tell you to ‘bong’. Get my point bro?”
“You are wrong.”
“I know I’m strong, but bro, what does that have to do with this?”
“No! Man, you are WRONG. You’ve got listening problems, it isn’t that people can’t speak properly.”
“Ok bro, that is your point of view.”
“And the rest of the world’s point of view as well.”
“I don’t care, bro.”
“Ok, let’s talk about something else. Was that long for you?”
“Too long bro.”
“Too long?!”
“Too long bro, didn’t I just tell you that?”
“Yes, why do you get mad, man?”
“I am no madman bro! Why are you calling me a madman for? It was too long for me, if it wasn’t for you, then that’s fine, you don’t have to call me a madman! What’s your problem? Always trying to insult others. For Christ’s sake!”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
“You laugh about it as well? You’re sick bro.”
“No, man, I asked you why you had to get angry?”
“Ok, angry, bro, it’s that I don’t like repeating myself, and bro, it was TOO LONG.”
”No it wasn’t, man”
“Yes it was bro, didn’t you see?”
“Yes indeed I saw it, but, it wasn’t long.”
“Are we talking about the same thing?”
“Yes man, we are, and I am pretty sure it was not long.”
“It was too long bro, too long for me at least.”
“Well, then, that’s another thing. For me, it was not long at all.”
“Not long at all. Who are you, Superman? Come on bro, it was TOO LONG?”
“No man, it was just a 3 hour exercise drill, which equals nothing. Long would’ve been 4 or 5 hours.”
“It was just a 3 hour drill. Long would’ve been 4 or 5 hours.”
“Why are you repeating me man? Do you want to be like me?”
“Yes bro, everyone wants to be Superman.”
“I am not Superman.”
“That is what you just told me bro.”
“No I didn’t. Why are you putting words in my mouth?”
“Just admit it bro, you think you are Superman.”
“No man, what are talking about?”
“I’m telling you that you think you are superman! Why do I have to repeat myself? The next time, it won’t be words I put in your mouth, but I’ll put this fist right through your forehead.”
“Come on, dare.”
“No man, who would dare fighting Superman! I need to get kryptonite.”
“Stop it man, I’m really losing my nerves.”
“Oh, how scary, Superman is losing his nerves. I’m going to have to run away.”
“Ok man, that’s it, you just crossed the line.”
“Bring it on bro!”Round 1, Fight!

Entry # 5 Carol 4

Carol insults everyone, and when he is nervous, he gets worse. The cab driver enjoys every word that comes out of my grandfather’s mouth, even though some are insulting for him. He doesn’t laugh instantly, but when he drops Carol off at “La Tinaja”, Gerardo’s restaurant, he can’t control it, he cannot avoid it, it strikes him like a lightning, and he laughs like a madman.
The cab drivers love him. He makes up stories as well. Once, there was an ugly lady taking her dog out for a walk. “Look how sweet the lady looks, they are mother and son, did you know?” carol would ask the cab driver as they turn on the car and drive towards “La Tinaja”. The cab driver would not speak, he would just accommodate the baseball cap he was wearing and look at Carol with a strange look in his eyes and a unique smile, moving his head from left to right as if to say, “No, but please tell me how the hell can that lady be the biological mother of the dog.”
“Look to the front! Don’t look at me, we’ll crash! Well, doctors are impressed with this, they couldn’t believe it either. The idea of a female giving birth to a dog just didn’t fit in their scientific minds. I too, was impressed when I got the news, but I believe it now, just looks at them, they are identical! Look at the lady’s face and the dogs face. Ah? Don’t you see the similarities? She is an ugly lady let me tell you, probably too ugly to find a human husband. She started liking dogs. Doctors call that type of sexuality Doggosexual, or when a human is attracted to dogs. She probably has lots of lovers. I can’t understand what it is that she likes about dogs. She is a Doggosexual, that’s more amazing than her son being a dog! Don’t you think?”
The driver takes off his cap, scratches his head, and puts the cap back on. Carol starts forming an evil grin in his face, as he usually does. He sees the driver hesitating and doubting on whether the story is true or false. For Carol, the driver’s hesitation is a sweet victory. He loves making people think “Wow, how can this be possible?”
Carol walks into “La Tinaja” cursing like a madman. Cursing about anything that crosses his mind: the motorcycles, and the holes in the street. He’s got a reserved spot where he sits for a while, observing the way people work and listening to what these people talk about. He sees people come in, go out. It’s always the same. The phones ring, they make phone calls. He observes and listens.
After a while, he gets bored, tired. He asks for someone to call a cab for him. The same story occurs again: drivers fight for being the one that gets to pick up Dr. Rumié, he gets in cursing his life, the driver’s life, the taxi, the city, and the entire world. He is then taken back home.

Entry # 4 Carol 3

His stories always have some kind of atrocity, barbarity, nonsense, disparate, which makes them greatly humorous. He loves fights, gossips, indignity, and scandals. He loves when I get near him and tell him a story about a fight or a big scandal that might be caused by a gossip.
After he is done with the newspaper, Carol goes back upstairs, and takes a bath. His bathroom has the coldest water in the entire country. Carol and his wife, I suppose have become immune to it. They no longer feel how cold it is. They have lost sensitivity. I have tried bathing there, and it is a complete, difficult, and complicated task. It requires skill, agility (neither Carol nor Lourdes have it), and a whole lot of strength. Yes, lots of strength to resist the cold water from burning your skin or freezing you to death! Carol and Lourdes have mastered the trick, and do not see the cold water as a problem as I would.
He bathes and does whatever else he has to do, and then picks up the phone and asks the Taxi Company to send him a cab. He no longer needs to give his name or address since the operators who answer the phones recognize his voice and know where he lives and everything.
Cab drivers compete for being the one who gets to pick my grandfather up. He always makes them laugh. Since Carol is really tall and has long legs, it is hard for him to find a cab with enough space for his body to fit comfortably. The cab drivers try to make the cab as comfortable as possible for him. They pull the front seat as far back to give Carol the most amount of space. Normally, he gets picked up by a Renault Clio, a small sized car. As he gets in, he says: “Damn it! Why do these stupid people keep making smaller and smaller cars?! It is impossible for me to be comfortable in here! Damned life I have!” The cab drivers just laugh and say: “This old guy is something special.” As they drive him to his nephew’s office, where he goes every day to visit, he always warns them about wholes on the street. He gets horribly nervous when the car is moving; and when he gets nervous, he does nothing else than curse and get mad.
“Be careful! Watch that hole over there! It’s a crater! The whole damn car could fit in there! Drive like a human, not like a chimpanzee! You are going to get us both killed! This city is not worth anything! All the streets are filled with holes, the mayor does nothing to fix them, and he just steals everyone’s money! Damn it! Watch that motorcycle/taxi over there! Can’t you see that the driver is a gorilla? In fact, a gorilla would drive better. Understand? Look at him! He’s a complete ignorant! Knows nothing about traffic signals, in fact, knows nothing about anything! Watch out! Keep your distance! Look at that motorcycle/taxi over there; he’s carrying an amazingly fat lady with a cake on her hands at the back of the motorcycle. I bet you a thousand dollars that they will both get killed. Be careful and wary or you’ll be the one that kills them! Yes, yes, I’ve told you a thousand times these motorcycle drivers are all gorillas. Watch out with the pedestrian! You almost hit him! Don’t you know about the Cartagena’s pedestrians’ favorite custom and hobby? I’ve got no idea why, but they love jumping in front of cars so that they get killed! Yes, I worked at the hospital, and I had tons of cases with hit pedestrians by taxis. People here in Cartagena are mad! Didn’t I tell you this is total chaos? Everyone acts as if they were drunk and drugged chimpanzees.”

Entry # 3 Carol 2

The guests laughed their tears out as they heard the story. Carol has a vast repertoire of similar stories, where he invents a total nonsense, but he gives a large amount f details and puts on a serious face, which makes people sometimes buy his stories.
My maternal grandfather, Carol, is a retired psychiatrist. He worked at a psychiatric hospital in Baltimore where he treated teenage criminals. He loves imitating how one of his patients spoke. He was named Ronald, and was a black American about nineteen years old. “Hey Doc, I wanna (want to) go to my houw (house).” Carol would then answer, “Soon baby, soon” with his eyes closed and an evil grin in his face.
During the days of the week, when his friends are working, he has nothing to do. There are no activities that he considers as fun and, therefore, he gets tremendously bored during afternoons.
Carol wakes up at five in the morning, goes to the TV room, and watches “TVEspañola”, a Spanish TV channel. That is his favorite channel. It is the only channel he watches. I have no idea what is it that makes “TVEspañola” his favorite channel. He always watches the same shows, the same news, over and over again.
At six in the morning, he stands up off his rocking chair, goes down the stairs to eat breakfast. When he is done, he sits at the garage, at a rocking chair, and reads the newspaper. He does not like bad news and normally, he chooses not to read them. What he does like, is reading a section called “Sociales”. In that section, the newspaper shows different social events that have occurred during the week, for example, a wedding, a birthday party, a graduation party, a baptism party, a first communion, etc. The way the newspaper, “El Universal”, shows this section is that they show lots of pictures from the social events. My grandfather calls that section “The Comic Strips”. He sits staring at the pictures, recognizing known friends, or family members attending different parties. He watches the pictures, studying everyone’s faces; meanwhile, an enormous grin appears in his face. Carol thinks how people smile for pictures at those events as amazingly comical.
It would definitely be a curse me to appear on those “Comic Strips” since Carol would mock me until he gets tired of it. He would start asking questions about how was the event like and then, with his creative evil mind, he will make up stories about things I did at the event. He will normally ask about the women that attended the event, and ask about any fights or discussions that might have occurred. Then he’d say that I caused a gigantic fight and picked up a huge brick and throw it at someone, and he would imitate the way the women at the party screamed and yelled in fear. I would laugh at how creative and detailed his stories were. Someone, other than a family member, would easily believe his story.

Entry # 2 Carol

My maternal grandfather is one of the funniest guys I have ever met, but he has a very strange sense of humor. My mother, Ruby, calls it “Black Humor”. My grandfather, Carol, has the most the most evil and perverted minds, and it is totally humorous to see the odd and unique way he reacts to certain events. Sometimes, he has a strange resemblance with the Grinch, both physically and mentally.
Carol is about 1.90 meters in high and is a bit skinny. He has enormous, ugly, and delicate feet, which makes finding shoes a tough job. Day after day he complains about how shoes are not comfortable for him, how he has tried tons of different soles and none of them work. His face. We could make a whole book about my grandfather’s face. Carol is famous for being the most handsome man ever when he was young. His friends tell his grandsons stories about how his beauty caused “traffic jams” as he crossed the street since cars had to stop to look at him. How Carol made any woman fall in love with him.
This causes Carol to believe he is a type of God, he believes there is no one as beautiful as him. He always judges people according to whether they are pretty or if they aren’t. Carol is now old, has white hair, and his face looks old and wrinkled. He hates looking old. He can’t stand looking at himself in a mirror or when he sees a recent picture of himself. “Damn it! Take that camera out of here! If you take a picture of me, can’t you see people will say: ‘Oh, look at that ugly old man.’?” He does not like people taking pictures of him.He curses being old. He hates it. He hates ugly people and ugly people, what he is now, old and ugly. He is obsessed with beauty. One day, we were at a huge family reunion dinner. We were celebrating my cousin’s graduation from school. My cousin’s name is Gerardo Rumié. People were dancing, drinking, talking, and singing. Most of the guests that greeted Carol, congratulated him for how pretty my mother is. “Oh Carol! Ruby is so pretty.” That made my grandfather enormously proud. Some of them said Ruby; my mother looked like her own mother. Carol would say: “No no no, she doesn’t look like Lourdes, it is impossible. Lourdes had nothing to do with Ruby, Ruby’s genes were all inherited from me. Ruby is my daughter, not her mother’s. I was the one who got pregnant, gave birth to her, everything! I remember going to the doctor because I was feeling nauseas. When the doctor checked me, he was impressed with what he found. I was pregnant by myself. ‘Yes, Dr. Rumié, you got yourself pregnant. You will have a little baby around September.’ I couldn’t believe Dr. Escobar’s words, but indeed, they were true. That is why Ruby is so pretty, she’s all me! If she had one of Lourdes’ genes, she would be uglier.”

Entry # 1 March Againt Violence

I had a terrific experience this afternoon. The entire day was oriented towards this experience. The experience occurred at The National March for Colombian Peace which I attended in company of some family members and millions of Colombians. My family members were: my brother Sergio, my cousin Catalina, my dad Fernando Araújo, his girlfriend Adriana, and several bodyguards and friends.
The whole idea of this march was wonderful for me. The march claimed for Colombian Peace, rejected terrorists, rejected kidnaps, rejected criminals, claimed liberty of our hostages, and rejected the illegal armed group FARC. I feel much attached to these issues and movements since my dad was kidnapped for six years. I have felt the pain of the families who have kidnapped family members. I have felt the fear, the sadness, the anger, the desperation, the frustration, the weakness, the shame, and the despair.
I have seen the nightmare come to an end and felt all the feelings that these families dream, day after day, of feeling. These feelings I felt are the most profound and deep feelings there are. They are glory, happiness, shock, pride, tranquility, strength, euphoria, ecstasy, joy, excitement, and peace. The moment my dad stepped out of the helicopter, all of my family members and me were filled with these terrific feelings.
The experience I went through at the march was filled with emotion. What happened was that as we marched beside my dad, claiming for liberty, I remembered about a march claiming for my dad’s freedom, when I was only nine years old. I realized how inside me, the situation had completely changed. The confusion I felt in the march in 2001 contrasted with the clarity I felt today.
People in the march yelled my dad’s name. They said: “¡Que viva el Canciller!” They showed their appreciation for my dad’s work, for my dad’s commitment to the rest of the Colombians. They hugged my dad, kissed him, took pictures with him, took pictures of him, asked for autographs, and showed their love for him even though they do not know him. These people were completely committed to the march’s purpose and made me realize how my dad’s victory was considered as a victory for many Colombians, not only for me and my family. I feel the same as these people at the march. The freedom of another Colombian, like Clara Rojas or Pinchao, has also produced similar feelings inside me.
I am the proudest son, yes, but this is not the strongest feeling I felt today. That feeling was the strongest when my dad came back, or when my dad was named Minister, but not today. Today, what shocked me the most and what the experience is all about, is feeling how the Colombians at the march are tired, worn-out, exhausted, fatigued, and will no longer stand the FARC’s lies, terrorist attacks, kidnapping, and crimes. Today, I sensed the disgust produced by these terrorists in all Colombians. Today, I felt that these types of manifestations are the best way to get the rest of the word to see the reality. This is the best way to get this nightmare to end for the rest of the Colombians. Today I felt how we have made a great progress since several years ago. Today I felt something not easy to explain. I felt as if had a multiplied times millions strength. I felt that unity makes the force.

What is a Blog? - Friday, February 8th, 2008.

A. What is the difference between a blog and a book?
B. How have blogs changes recently?
C. Why might you read a blog?
D. Is there reason to doubt the objectivity of a blog? Why? Why not?
E. If you kept your own blog, what would you title it?

A. Blogs and books are somehow opposites. According to the article, books are slow, tight, invite you to stay, and fret over copyright and libel, while blogs are fast, reckless, invite you to stray, and grab to whatever the want with impunity. They way they are read are different as well. When you read a blog, you can sometimes jump around with links. Links The way they are published are different. Books can be either published on internet, or printed, while blogs are exclusively for internet. Blogs and books also differ in the way that in blogs, people are able to interact and you may see the observations and opinions of different types. Books are made by one author and you are not able to interact with him.

B. recently, blogs are being used by lots of people, while before, they were used by a smaller amount of the population. Blogs are now used to comment on a posted subject. They are also used for readers of newspapers to comment on a specific news. The most shocking change that blogs have gone through is the popularity they have gained.

C. I might read a blog to have an idea of different opinions on a specific subject and have the chance to publish my own opinion.

D. Most of the time, authors of blogs express their opinion of something through it. People publish comments with their own opionions and points of views on that subject, causing the blog to be completely subjective.

E. The title of my blog will depend on what subject I will comment about. I would consider very interesting, since I am a lover of soccer, to create a blog called: "What makes you the planet's best soccer player?". People will express what they think are the attributes the best soccer player in the world needs to have.