Writing Blog

   " Write about ending . "  The alarm clock rang. My miniature eyes opened wide. A couple of light beams from the light street crossed the opened and dusty window in front of the bed I rested. My breathing was harsh, the song Spotify had selected to wake me up was not my favorite, and the covers were big and heavy to move; I spun a bit to get out of them.       Suddenly, I growled the mosquito next to my ear. I sat up for thirty seconds, staring at the infinity. Sotero—my brother's best friend—slept with us the previous night and knocked on my door. "Let's go, wey, what do you want, Colombian, Rwandan or Pike Place?" he said. "Colombian is good," I murmured.      I grabbed my phone. My hand stuck with the sticky case my cousin left on it the previous night—I got rid of the thing and unlocked my cellphone. The hour marked 5:25 AM, the desert's weather that morning was six degrees, yet the humidity was only at ten percent. All seemed good...

  " Write about innocence . "    "There's nothing more contagious than the laughter of young children; it doesn't even have to matter what they're laughing about."      -  Criss Jami I wanted to start this magnificent essay with a clause I love. The phrases mentioned above by Criss reflect a sentiment thousands of people have.       I sometimes close my eyes, look back on time, and smile at the dozens of pictures my mind reproduces. It was funny when I could spend five daily hours doing the same activity. Not even interested in what was coming next. (For instance, playing Lego in my room, building massive castles only to destroy them after or capturing ridiculous ghosts with a red-and-black vacuum cleaner in Luigi's Mansion.)       In Mexico, we did not grow up with the red-fat Coca-Cola-sponsored Santa Clause guy nor hanging out with friends at night on Halloween. Instead,  El Hada de Los Dientes  left...

  " Write about what you know to use . "  The way all keys feel under my bare fingers when I press them represents several fights throughout my years of practice and work. It could seem weird to write about this; however, I would not create stories without this tool.       Yes, I will describe the fascination I have for physical keyboards—specifically, PC ones.  For me, it is essential to mention how companies create each typing console. The variety sometimes goes from colored-light and extensive keys—producing a pleasant sound, to others with reduced space between the case's bottom and its top, plus their inexistent sound, making the whole experience silent. You touch the base quietly. And velocity is the reason I am still here, falling in love each week with a computer more than a cellphone.      Building a great, enduring ability with this 104-soft-opaque and rectangular-delimited space requires time and courage.—things I love. Conseq...

  " Give your own eulogy . "  Well, first of all. Thank you all for being here. It is good to see some familiar faces again. With your black facemasks on, though. I am Arturo, Cesar's best friend, alter ego, and rival for life. He desired me to talk to you today. Yes! This situation reminds us of how delicate a human being could be. I believe this is not how many of us craved to finish this complicated year, especially his relatives and friends.       How should I begin?  The last time we talked about this topic, he told me to be real, direct, and stubborn a year ago if something happened to him. That cold afternoon, we spoke of climbing and hiking while walking on a rocky pathway. Then, we sat on a rock in front of a mountain range close to Zacatecas City. The  yellow-black-and-gray speaker in his backpack was reproducing  Eminem—I never understood why he liked him so much.       In the middle of our weekly trip, we coul...

  " Tell a story about your job or the worst boss in the world. "    One day, I rapidly woke up; a nightmare made me stand. I got ride of my blankets, reached my cellphone, initiated The Weather Channel, and smiled at the city's tolerable pollution levels. When you grow up dealing with lung problems, the first thing you think about is the air.       Then, I went to the bathroom, spotted the hung clock—it was 7:55 AM—opened the window, and looked through it. I noticed I could see the neighbor building—which was one hundred meters apart. That was a good indication. "Heck yeah, I can use my bike," I said with a winning tone. However, Mexico City was not always like this. At least for me, it makes me consider the transport I will use before leaving home every day; it is a matter of safety and self-respect.       Because of my tight schedule of the week, without having breakfast or thinking about my life a bit. I immediately took the bac...

  " Maybe your life just didn't  turn out the way you expected, write about that. "    On my second week back in Zacatecas, March 11, 2020. As I walked outside home, brooming and picking up fallen leaves from our several trees, my watch shook, notifying me about the imminent news. The World Health Organization (WHO) had declared the COVID-19 outbreak a world-wide epidemic. Making  SARS-CoV-2  the third coronavirus disease in two decades. And the second pandemic of the century.       When it comes to working and dealing with outbreaks, the Mexican government had done it well in the past. Local presidents and governors were at their best when they frequently faced infections in their cities. A nation's president and people did not need to do everything the scientific newspapers suggest because its population already understood what to do. However, in the spring of 2020, as we took this event as something temporary. Our death toll starter c...

  "Write about travel."   In mid-July 2017, my brother and I decided to go on a bus trip from Mexico City to Oakland, California. The goal? We wanted to count the hours we could resist enclosed in that black-amusing rolling machine. Besides, a cousin living in the Bay Area invited us to hang around Silicon Valley and the surroundings. We saved sufficient money, paid the tickets, and embarked on the adventure with that purpose in mind. According to our premade forecasts, the total time would be around fifty-four and fifty-seven hours. I was not counting possible accidents or immigration problems.  The challenge was easy peasy.      The journey and logistics were simple, too. We would start in  La Central del Norte  in Mexico City, which is ten hours away from the beautiful city of Zacatecas—hour home village. Once in our home state, my parents would go to the bus station and bring us some groceries and clothes. The bus would stop fifteen minut...

"Write about someone and cut the fluff."   I dedicate this essay to one of my cousins. The martyr Nicolas. (For practical reasons, I will not mention his real name.)       I compiled comments from his closest friends and previous conversations, and the outcome is shocking. Moreover, every person close to our family knows and confirms what I am about to say. Unbelievable. But where to start when several topics accommodate him? With the most distinctive trait of him; his current depressive-everything-happens-to-me personality and addressing it in parts.         First, let us go back to the past.      Born in the same village as I did. Nicolas grew up surrounded by comforts. Namely money and properties. He became the first son of three and one of the oldest grandchildren for the future forty-four-member family.        According to Alexander, his childhood went "fun and without complications," one of h...