I’m really not into the bucket list style of traveling. Many folks create random lists of things they feel they need to do in order to be complete and fulfilled in life... Instead of living day by day and seizing each moment as it comes, they plan months or even years ahead. Their list becomes a serious mission. Friends, family, acquaintances, dogs, cats, everybody must step aside as these individuals check off each activity from their list: Visiting the Taj Mahal - check Scuba diving with dolphins - check Shaking a famous football players hand - check
“Sir, Sir, wake up, this is important!” Christian was standing above me, vigorously shaking my shoulders. “What! What the hell are you talking about? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a nap here!” “Sir, I know this is your precious nap time, but look at this letter that just came in. I’ll read it to you.” I sat up from my cot which was set up behind the lab, carefully making sure my privates were covered with the blanket. I used to go in there to nap after lunchtime, or to nod off hangovers. “Okay then, read the damned thing. Then I’m going back to sleep!”
“I’m tired and hungry. We’ve been walking for three days now!” “It doesn't matter. Have many more days to hike, so better move the faster, otherwise will torture you.” “I told you. They won't lay a finger on me. I’m a genius. Do you know what a fucking genius is? It means I’m smarter than all these bastards. Although, I still don’t know exactly how their machines work. We don't have those in my country. It must be some hydraulic robotic tech equipped with motion sensors. I haven't really worked with robots before. Of course, I understand the theories behind it, but I'm more of a chemist and I do dabble in biology, from time to time...”
I've been wandering these mean city streets for years. Taking taxis, riding packed buses, going to parties, shopping, bargaining, living and eating like the locals do, so this is my little guide to help you when you arrive. Please, let me know if you have any questions, let's begin! Bogota is the capital of Colombia, South America. It’s the fourth largest city of Latin America; home to more than 8 million people. The weather is pleasant. It’s not very hot due to its high altitude.
Why do so many artists struggle to make progress and achieve their goals? In my opinion, it is because they are selfish. They are mainly concerned with promoting themselves and their brand. They may help someone at times, but only minimally, or they help out their fellow artist and he does not return the favor. Art is an extension of ourselves. It supersedes business and money because it can last longer than us. A movie, a song, an awe-inspiring structure, that stays with you for life. It’s bigger than you. It lives in our hearts and minds, can travel across continents and ages of time.
This life of ours is a short one. So, let’s look at the various options we have and try to decide if we want to settle down with a job, business and family, or wander around the planet till the end of time… For women, one thing you should seriously ask yourselves is if you want to have kids or not. Most doctors will recommend that you bear children before you are 35 years of age to ensure the healthiest conditions for your pregnancy. Unfortunately, when we go head-on into an education and career, that can take decades of our lives...
The human mind is the most sophisticated phenomenon in the world. We have created all manner of devices and accomplished countless feats far beyond the imagination of those past. Basically, we’re equipped with natural supercomputers in our heads that are more powerful than nature itself. BUT we must understand that from the time we are born there are an innumerable amount of stimuli, like television, internet, and our culture, that are fighting for our attention, attempting to motivate our behavior and shopping patterns.
The man stood in front of his easel, a brush held loosely in his right hand, staring at the blank canvas. Once, he indecisively brought his hand closer to the canvas, let it hover, and, a couple of seconds later, let his hand fall back. Setting the brush down, he picked up his cup of tea from the stool next to the easel and took a sip. The man was in his late sixties, had a lean build, and his head had a bald patch surrounded by greying hair.
As an artist/content producer, one of the first questions you should ask yourself is what message you want to share to the world? We should probably ask ourselves this question every day, for every piece we make, from the beginning of our careers up until the end, when we’re older and wiser. This way we can see how our priorities and internal vision changes throughout the years. Some people, no doubt, are less concerned with their message and more interested in fortune, fame, and stardom. They simply picture themselves up on the stage in front of thousands of screaming fans
“Move, move it faster! If you don't stay with them, they drag you behind the machines,” said the old translator. “I’m tired and hungry. We’ve been walking for three days now!” “It doesn't matter. Have many more days to hike, so better move the faster, otherwise will torture you.” “I told you. They won't lay a finger on me. I’m a genius. Do you know what a fucking genius is? It means I’m smarter than all these bastards. Although, I still don’t know exactly how their machines work. We don't have those in my country. It must be some hydraulic robotic tech equipped with motion sensors. I haven't really worked with robots before. Of course, I understand the theories, but I'm more of a chemist
Scotland is rich with diverse histories. As a child, I knew I was Scots-Irish. As a teen, I felt different, somehow. As an adult, I learned I share a bloodline with ancient Picts of the Scottish Highlands. The Picts were self-educated in all forms of nature from weather patterns to rainfalls, from plant life to waterways. They could traverse the most complex marshes and survive to tell others how to do so. The culture survived the iron age and into Medieval Europe. The culture did not survive Christianity’s purge of Western Europe. Because Picts did not record their lives, all that is learned about the Pict culture comes from
I met a man years ago who was a professional real estate entrepreneur. He used to work for about eight months a year on various projects. Mostly, he bought dilapidated properties for cheap prices, fixed them up, and rented them out. He was able to set up his businesses, then go and travel for two to four months per year. He used to cycle across the continents with other friends. He biked through Europe, Africa, and when I met him he was planning on traversing all of Eurasia. He loved it! He explained to me that there was no point in going away for a few days or weeks. Travel should be complete immersion.
“Holy Moley Joe, you have to come and see this,” said Adam, acting a little bit excited but still quite calm, like he always is. “Whatt. Whaat izz it? Tell me,” I said in a drunken/stoned/retarded/slurry voice. “You'll see, you'll see, come with me.” My house now looked like it could start winning Guinness World Records for the most-sickest party, and after what I saw the kids doing, we actually did win a Guinness record. It was fucking amazing! I followed Adam through the crowded living room, out my front door, down the steps, and to the side of the house. “Come on, you´ll see in just a second,” he whispered, with a sinister grin.
After the intense poetry jam, I went out back to see what was going on. Ping-pong tables were set up behind my house. Several teams were competing in organized tournaments with prizes awarded to the best players. This wasn’t your typical ping-pong match; this was Beer-Pong. Where competitors had to maneuver their balls across the table and directly launch them into big plastic cups that were full of beer. A highly skilled and difficult game, and one that I didn’t dare play because my pathetic pong skills were no match for the fierce rivalry found along those wet tables. Plus, I was already quite tipsy and was trying to pace my drinking.
“Damn, how tall are you?” I asked him. “6,8. That tall enough for ya?” he asked mockingly. “I used to play ball back in school.” “I believe you. But I know someone even taller than you. He’s not of this world though,” I rebutted. Implying that he ain’t as badass as he thinks he may be. “Sir, what the hell are you talking about?” “Never mind,” I said, “May you and your lovely wife have a glorious evening.” I walked out of the store with my bottles in hand. The only beings that could tolerate my pathetic commentary. Here I was. Alone. Completely Alone. Christian was gone. Probably living well with his family. I’m sure they don’t mind spending all that extra cash that just appeared in their lives. Because of me...