Goddess of Thunder (Short Story in Progress), Chapter 1

This is the short story that I've been working on for almost a month, I wanted to posted as a single post but it got to long that I think I'm going to divide it in chapters. The story is not over yet but I hope to finish it soon.This story is about bikers and its a little bit surreal, hope you enjoy the first chapter.

I

The smell of the highway was starting to become the personal aura that followed Ailine everywhere she went. Rolling and rolling, there was no ending to her race. The mountain defeated her, but she was willing to come back, but now it was not the time.

The days were always dominated by white and enormous clouds in the skies, but for her, it was always stormy because she never took those sun glasses off. A permanent storm with only one way out: The road. She only had to focus in going forward; otherwise the storm would sweep her away.

Fuel was running low, the journey had to stop for a few minutes, there was always a gas station/restaurant at her disposition, and she only had to take her glasses off.

“That’s a fine bike” said the waiter as he delivered her cup of coffee.

“It is” she replied, blowing the hot smoke of the cup.

“I used to have one of them until some god-damned bastards stole it from me when I wasn’t looking at my backyard…”

The man expected some kind of signal of sympathy or even a “That sucks” but nothing came from the girl.

“… Those are great for recovering long distance; may I ask where are you going?”

Ailine drank a little bit of coffee and replied.

“Going north for the moment, it doesn’t seem that my destination is changing any time soon.”

The man just began to look at her with eyes of speculation.

“North? ...are you heading to the mountain?”

She nodded while watching the wooden table.

The man laughed a little bit.

“Are you one of those bikers who are trying to reach the top of the mountain?”

“Take a guess” she said.

The waiter had a wide open smile.

“Oh man, I knew there was something special about you.”

The other customers were starting to yell at the waiter, impatiens for their lack of customer attention. The waiter went away for a few minutes, and then he returned back.

“Let me tell you something, beautiful. Your bike is fine, I mean is goddamn fine, no question about it. But you will never reach the top of that mountain with it, I’m sorry but it can’t be done. You know how to ride, but there’s only one way for reaching that summit, baby, and that’s flying.”

Smiling she responded.

“I know that well old fella, I’ve fallen many times and I’ve seen many more fall, but thanks for reminding me.”

“Then why the hell are you going back there, are you waiting a miracle or something?”

Ailine heard that word and something awoke inside her. The mountain was the only thing that she lived for, if something like that ever happened she would have no idea of how to react. That would defeat the entire meaning of riding and she knew that at the moment that she stopped riding, the storm would sweep her away into oblivion. Perhaps a miracle was the last thing that she wanted.

“I just like to try and fail.” she answered.

“God, you DO need a miracle” said the waiter as he went to recover some plates of other customers.

Ailine’s cup was empty and there was nothing for her left to do there, so, it was moment to return to the road.

“But maybe, I’ll be your miracle man today” said the waiter when Ailine was just about to ask for the bill.

“What do you mean?” she asked, just as a reflex.

The waiter’s face started to evoke a great mystery.

“Do you know who Teller da Speller is?”

Ailine had heard the myth before and she didn’t want to lose any more time talking about it.

“Yes, the mechanic from another planet, I’ve heard about it, could you please bring me the bill?”

“You said it as if it were some kind of folk story” The waiter said.

“I don’t know a lot of people from other planets, but the ones I do know, are not mechanics.”

“Well, this one is, I know that I’m demanding skepticism here but he’s the greatest and most legendary mechanic of this generation, he could take whatever piece of shit and transform it into a magical and unstoppable rocket that could travel galaxies!” the waiter didn’t regulate his volume and the entire restaurant was looking at him.

“You talk about him as if he was real.”

The waiter began to laugh.

“Oh, my young lady, he IS real. I know him personally, in fact…” he came closer to the girl as if he was about to whisper a big secret “he’s the step brother of the owner of this chain of restaurants”.

Ailine had lost enough time chatting, the road was waiting for her.

“I can contact him if you want, you would be amazed of what he can do. Lokie Santana… I mean, he was an excellent rider but he would have gotten nowhere if it wasn’t for the bike that Mr. da Speller prepared for him. Oh man, with a bike like that, the summit of that mountain would kiss your tires.”

Ailine didn’t know how much she owned and she wasn’t going to wait for the bill, so she just left 10 bucks on the table and she stood up.

“Not interested right now but thanks for the offer.” she said while leaving.

Thanks for reading :)

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Solitude Adventures, A Science Fiction Novel: Chapter 4

Fourth chapter of this science fiction novel. I've been working on a short story right now, so that's why Solitude Adventures is in a small hiatus right now, nonetheless I bring to you Chapter 4.  I'm thinking on posting this short story than I'm currently working on in chapters because it got way longer than the story I originally envisioned. I don't even know if it's a short story anymore, but I guess that I'll posting it here while I finish it. I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and thanks for reading.

Piece of Heaven

The brutal sound of water was the only thing that surrounded my head at that moment; I didn't need to open my eyes to see what was going on. Time passes slow in the waters but fast at the same time; so slow to realize its empty harmony yet so fast that you're not longer aware that you're not there. My feet were stepping on solid ground, my eyes were still closed, a tree behind me, a rope in front of me and a fist inside my stomach. Being tied up is no funny business folks.
"You're a hard son of a bitch to find, I'll give you that" he said as he punched my face next.
I open my eyes and I look at him. I didn't even know the guy, yet he saved my life and was about to take it away. I guess that you should know the name of the person who did those two things to you.
"I almost drown trying to get your sorry ass... but it was worth it" he punched once again in the stomach and I started to spit blood.
"What is your name?" I asked him with my blooded voice.
"What, my name?" he asked me back.
"Well yeah, you just saved my life and now you're going to kill me, I guess I should know your name"
He got closer to me and then he grabbed my neck; I clearly saw his face smiling. He was a little bit younger than me, with dark hair and from Asian decency, probably Japanese.
"But I'm not going to kill you sweety, not yet" he then grabbed my hand and he   pulled out a knife that was under his pocket.
A part of me thought that I was already dead and that this place was some kind of hell with my torturer in front of me, but then I quickly realize that I was still alive. The knife went through my hand as if it were butter, now I know the pain that Jesus Christ himself felt and let me tell you folks... it's no funny business.
Immediately after that, he began to twist the knife. The more he twisted, the more he smiled. I screamed at levels that I wasn't even aware that I could.
"What is your goddamned fucking problem?!" he smiled even more while I was screaming that.
When the knife gave a rotation of one hundred eighty degrees inside my hand, he pull it out. My hand was a fountain of blood.
"I guess that's the problem" he said while he was cleaning the red knife with his white shirt. "You see, I didn't even paid you to hack up my exam, I was one of the few ones who actually passed by their own".
He grabbed my other hand and he did the same thing.
"I just heard that the guys were up to kill someone tonight and I just decided to join in."
And that moment, I finally realized who that fucker was, I resolved and long forgotten mistery in probably the worst way possible. A few years ago, a series of horrible murders took place inside and outside the school, must of them we're girls who had been tortured and then killed by a series of painful knife wounds, finally they we're crucified in the forest. He quickly became known between us as the Stigmata Killer, this was the first major treath that we faced together, and what did we do? we immerged ourselves in fear and paranoia. The Stigmata Killer was one of us, but who? we couldn't trust in anyone, we couldn't trust in ourselves. We had a serial killer in our school, he had killed seven girls already and we didn't know what the hell to do. We were expecting that the Luvic Corporation would carry an investigation about this, but they never came. We filled the report at docent times but we knew that this was not even necessary, they had systems of surveillance, they knew what was going on here... or at least we thought they knew. The Stigmata Killer episode was a particular devastating one, because after that, we knew that the surveillance systems of Luvic Corporation were no longer activated, those systems represented the law and the order of this civilization and they were no longer there. There was nobody watching us, no punishment for crimes, it became just another planet without law.

Seeing that no one else responded to the treat, a friend of mine and I decided to investigate the case but we didn't resolved anything, the Stigmata Killer left no tracks, nothing, it was almost impossible to trace him. After a few more kills he just stopped, there we're no more killings left, the Stigmata Killer disappeared, but the damage he made to us was almost beyond repair, when everybody figured out that there was no surveillance in our planet, violence, crimes and murders became pretty normal in this new civilization of ours. This changed nothing for me, until this precise moment in which everybody was trying to kill me. I was always a criminal but I worked in the shadows without harming anyone, but now, with this paradigm shift, working in the shadows seemed redundant.
"You were one of those bastards who was trying to track me down eh?" said the Stigmata Killer.
I found this practically unclimatic, I didn't even know who this guy was, he was just a skinny little dude who looked really sick and weak, I couldn’t believe this person would be able to cause so much chaos.
"Why did you stop killing?" I asked him.
He walked near me and he took my right hand, he quickly purred some kind of spray over it and my hand began to heal immediately, once this happened, he stabbed the knife once again.
"I stopped killing because I stopped receiving orders" he responded while I was screaming. He was rotating the knife even more slowly than the last time.
"What the hell are you talking about, orders from whom?"
"You don't need to know, you're going to die anyway and I don't think that you would understand it."
"I'm gonna die? So you have orders to kill me?"
He didn't respond to my question and he proceeded to the torture.

My screams became a permanent resonance in the woods, unfortunately, the attention that they demanded wasn't met, but I don't think it would have made any difference otherwise. Soon, he was going to move to the kill, a victim more, this was not vengeance, no revenge of any kind, just a pointless homicide, I guess that I preferred to be killed by someone who really had strong intentions and good reasons to kill me, like any of the other fellas.
Now, the knife was inside my right shoulder, this was the greatest moment of pain in my entire life, a part of me felt that I was about to black out, I guess that wasn't a bad idea after all. The pain was beyond my limits of resistance and this weren't going to get nicer, so I was preparing to close my eyes and say good bye to everything I ever knew, when suddenly, an event that saved my life and change my entire perception of the world occurred.
It all began with music, I started to hear music and I wasn't the only one, he was listening to. To be honest, it wasn't music; they were just sounds, really powerful resonances that seemed to have some kind of harmony. The sounds became louder, like if they were approaching the place we we're on. He pulled the knife out of my shoulder, the pain moved around my entire body and my scream was the loudest of the night, but it was also silent, for the sounds were to loud and powerful that my scream became silenced by them. He began to look around us, trying to find the direction in which the sound we're coming from, but there was no direction, the sounds we're all around us, they came from all directions.
Suddenly, he stopped to look around and he froze completely, as if he had just made some kind of realization, he dropped the knife, and he grabbed his head with his two hands. Somehow, he knew what those sounds meant, and he began to worry as they approached, he looked at me and then he looked at his hands, all tainted with my blood, the sounds we're near and he tried to clean his hands, of course it was impossible.
When he realized he couldn't clean the red of his hands, he began to cry. He began to weep like a little baby. He then quickly run towards me and healed my shoulder with that spray he previously used. I saw his face and his tears closer, his eyes we're full of terror and regret, as if he was asking for forgiveness or something of that kind. Immediately, he picked up the knife that he had drop and he headed towards me once again.
I was sure that this was going to be the final moment; it seemed that his time was running low, for some reason, and he was just going to finish me off quickly. I was just praying that he didn't cut off my throat; that was the worst death imaginable, a death without screams, however, filled with blood, pain and slow agony.
He went behind the tree and I knew that he was going to do it that way. I closed my eyes and hoped that my dead would be faster than I thought. I felt a shallow coldness in my neck, the sounds approached more and more, my neck felt colder and colder, exposed, waiting for the final cut. A final cut did happen, but my neck was still intact; the rope that was around me was the one that received it. The Stigmata Killer (or whoever he was) freed me from his own trap; he rescued me from his own attempt of homicide.
I felt to the grass, tired and weak, the sounds had reached us, even though my body had never experienced these kinds of extreme circumstances, I got up quickly. The Stigmata Killer pushed to the other side. He was still crying, desperately, but he was also screaming something at me, of course I wasn't able to hear anything because of the beautiful sounds that apparently saved my life. I didn't understand a thing he said to me, but I didn't need to, his two arms we're clearly telling to get the hell out of there, to run as fast as I could, and I did as I was commanded.
While I was running away, which actually was at a much slower speed than the one that you're imagining, I could help but to ask myself: "what the hell did it just happen?", "why he didn't kill me?", "what the hell we're those sounds?". I had to know, I had to go back and see what those sounds were, yes I know, probably one of the most stupid decisions that someone in my situation could have made, but after all, I don't need to explain myself to you, you don't need to know how fucked up I am.
As I returned to the scene of the almost crime, the sounds we're still there, I was hiding in the trees, approaching really slowly, trying to find my friend. The sounds finally stopped and immediately after that, I saw him. He was kneeling down and facing the ground, his hands were in his pockets and he was still crying. I noticed that he was saying something, I thought that he was prying or something like that, so I approached a little bit to find out. Now, a little bit closer, I could clearly listen to what he was saying, unfortunately, I couldn't understand a word; he was speaking in Japanese. However, I quickly noticed something, he said a short stream of words, then he stopped, then he said another stream of words, stopped once again, he then raised his head, showed his red hands and screamed something as if it there was someone in front of him. He was having a conversation. I put my hand inside my right pocket, and found that my pocket recorder was still intact. I quickly started to record everything that he was saying, so that later I could find a program able to translate it.
I still wanted to know with who he was speaking with, his voice was the only voice I could hear, so, once again, I moved a little bit further to see if someone else was there. To my surprise, there was no one. I quickly look at him once again, and I couldn't see any kind of attachments or gadgets in his ears, eyes or head. It was easy to dismiss him as a complete lunatic, after all he was a serial killer, but, what's up with all of those sounds that we previously heard. I clearly felt that something was approaching and he to. It was unlike anything that I have heard or experienced before. I knew that it I wasn't just watching a lunatic speaking with himself, there was something more to this, there was something else going on.
He stood up, he was still talking and crying, I was recording everything. After talking and crying a little bit more, he hugged the air. He just jumped and hugged the air as if he was hugging someone, he then cried some more. "What the hell is going on?" that was the only thought in my mind. After hugging the air for a couple of minutes, he stopped and he cleaned his tears. He was nodding his head, as if he was listening to someone, he then stopped nodding, he stopped moving completely for a second. He suddenly turn around and look exactly at the place where I was hiding. He saw me.
At that precise moment, I thought that I had probably recorded enough. In less than a second, I put my recorder inside my pocket, turn around and I just ran; this time, at a much faster speed than the one that you're imagining.

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French Grammar Video Lessons with exercises

In this past two years I've been studying French as my main activity, I'm going to present the DELF B1 on April so that's the reason why I've been studying so much. Anyways, for me, the best way to reinforce my knowledge is to teach it, and obviously, the most tricky part of any language is its grammar, so that's the reason why I'm making these series of french grammar videos. So that I can reinforce my knowledge of the rules and help people who are just learning it. Besides the videos, I'm also creating little courses regarding the subjects in memrise.com, so that you can internalize the aspects of the grammar that we are discussing:

These are the videos so far:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqgrLZmXUb0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQOyldBYNEY

Exercises of conjugation (1st group of verbs): http://www.memrise.com/course/190829/1-conjugation-of-the-verbs-of-the-1st-group/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goq3p2rcGLk

Exercises of conjugation (2nd groups of verbs): http://www.memrise.com/course/197395/2-conjugation-of-the-verbs-of-the-2nd-group/

That's all so far, hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading :)

 

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What was once written (Short Poem)

This one is for all the new years that have come:

What was once written

As a template that has drastically fallen

we impregnate our wishes and dreams to come.

Is not the first time, but we react as such.

We look for the reset button one more time,

we push it every year, only to find out...

...that its effect is never lasting, anyways.

The template slowly erases and fades away

to become a chaotic sheet of paper

unable to recognize or remember...

...what was once written, by who?, for what? and why?

The message is always to ride the dragon.

But the imposed goal is to drive the dragon.

We try to drive him with total and full control...

...but we end up being carried away by him.

Hoping to grow ourselves, before seeing the final sunset... once again.

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Solitude Adventures, A Science Fiction Novel: Chapter 3

Third chapter of this little novel of mine.  Thanks a lot for everyone that has read and liked the previous two, I've already wrote more chapters but I haven't had time to edit them, however I think that they would out soon. I hope you enjoy this one.

Woods of Memories

Dying is not what it just to be, and I talk as if I were an expert. This has only happened to me once but I felt that it didn't happen the way it should. I don't know what was it like for all of the other folks that have left this world but for me it was pure pain, there was no calming piece, no serenity, nothing; the pain still went on for an eternity. But I guess time behaves differently when you're not in this world anymore. I was suspended in time at the moment that it happened; I was lying there, my murderer was hugging me and I just wanted to kill him, I was too weak to do anything about it, imagine that scene lasting... for an eternity.

Eventually, I guess I moved on, I'm not sure what happened but I felt that I wasn't part of that world anymore, and I couldn't help to feel so relief, I suppose that this was the peace and serenity that everybody talks about. If you had live in my world, it’s not a world that you would miss. Now that I'm no longer part of it, I guess I should be worried about my parents, I guess I should be watching them but the problem is that I never met them. None of us ever did, we don't have any idea how they look like, we are not really sure where they are, the only think that we know is that they're still alive and they were keeping us alive (well, for me, this was no longer the case, but for all the others it was). The planet where I and all of the others lived was called Bena, this was a planet owned by the Luvic Corporation (who pretty much conquered our entire solar system). We lived in Bena because all of us were sons of workers of the Luvic Corporation. That's right, if you worked for the Luvic Corporation and you had a child, this child was taken away from you and sent to Bena were he was going to be raised by teachers and young adults. As a parent you didn't even get to meet your son, but you still have to work for his education, that's right, your son being in Bena wasn't something  free, parents had to continue working to pay their education and their staying in Bena. If you stopped working, your child was simply expelled from the planet and he would have to become a space nomad, no matter what age.

Once a son finishes maternal education, he would be ready to enter hologram education or as the corporation called it: "Educational Palaces" gigantic crystal buildings that resembled the ancient universities that existed long before. Here you'll son would have to decide what he was going to become for the Luvic Corporation and he had three options: Colonist, Engineer or Maternal Teacher, after choosing one, he would then face endless tests and trials to determine whether or not he was worthy of being a worker for the Corporation, if he managed to past all of the tests he would have to still complete the final test which was almost impossible to approve and only the best of the best succeeded and began to work for the corporation in the area that they had mastered, for everyone else, space was the only place left for us.

Things were not always this difficult.  Generations before, 60% of students managed to succeed on the final test and became active Luvic workers, but for our generation it wasn't the same, the Luvic Corporation had already conquered everything it was needed to be conquered, they controlled and developed every resource that they needed. We humans already possessed an excellent longevity and everything look well and prosperous for them but not for us, not for the children of Bena; we weren't useful anymore, young blood just wasn't needed, the corporation had just the right amount of workers in all of its areas: The colonist had already conquered the solar system, so there was no need for more. Engineers had discovered and developed the finest ways of preserving energy and food, not much improvement could be made in that area. And Maternal Teacher was the most overpopulated job in existences (which was the career path I chose, by the way). The idea of interacting and educating the future generations seemed to be a beautiful thing to do, plus I loved kids, everybody kept telling me that it was the worst job ever, that I should have chosen engineering as everyone else but being a teacher for this kids seemed to be far more important and transcendental.

"What's transcendental about indoctrinating a bunch of spoiled brats that will have no future anyways?" Net always reminded me.

Even thought our planet was mind-blowingly boring, all schools and educational palaces were surrounded by beautiful and enormous forests, where everyone just liked to hang, drink, fuck, whatever.

I met Net when I was camping in the woods with some friends, he was the friend of a friend, when we had our first conversation I was completely loathed by his fucking pessimism, I just hated that pretentious asshole.

"How the hell you know that?" was the first thing I asked him.

"Went to maternal schools myself and look at me, I have no future." It was true, but I just hated being wrong.

"Don't be a pussy, nothing is easy in life, you have to fight for everything, so man the fuck up, would you?" He just laughed at me when I said that.

"I like you, sister" he said and he grabbed my shoulder

"Who the hell still says ‘sister’? What are you an old man?" he laughed once again.

"I like you, sister" he repeated...what a fucking idiot.

After I met him, Net began to change a lot, at first I thought that he was only doing this to comply me, but I was wrong. What I didn't realized at the moment is that he was actually showing me his true self and apparently this was the first time he had ever done that with anyone. After few months of dating him, I realized he was another person completely, he was like me or better yet he had always been like me but he just hid it because no one else would accept him like that. In reality, he was extremely vulnerable and I was the only one who could see this because he let me. Now, I don't know if this was the real Net.

"You know what... even though I never met them and probably never will... I miss them. I know that I'm the only one who feels like this but...I do". And he was right, nobody else felt like him.

He was the only one who had a particular interest in finding his parents and meet them. Maternal schools always taught us that parents were unimportant figures and that they only did what they had to do. They were only responsible in founding our education, which we hated. So no one developed an actual love or curiosity towards them. Bunch of strangers who just gave money and force us to do something we hated. But Net knew that what they've taught us was not the true.

"How can you create a life and just hand over it to a bunch of fucking strangers, who will never let you see it again and you will never know in what type of person it became?"

That particular piece of the puzzle didn't seem to fit well and he made me realize this, I guess that he made me interested in finding my parents and he also made me uninterested in doing what I was doing at the moment.

"I know that you have good intentions but your idea of that job is not what it really is, you're not changing anything, you're not improving anything, you're just helping the indoctrination to continue to the next generation: The Luvic Corporation is the only place in which you're gonna be safe, you don't wanna be in space, you're going to die alone out there. So, you better try the best to become a Luvic worker. Ohh... and for your information, there is pair of workers out there who are founding your education so that you can become just like them."

He later wrote a poem about that, I think it was titled "Solitude Adventures". That was our greatest fear, to die alone out there. To embark on a quest that was going to rip us a part. Nobody wanted that and you could see the desperation and anxiety that a lot of us went through because of that fear.

I saw that desperation and anxiety... but only once. It was the last thing I saw in this world, his face was full of it. I returned to that moment once again and I realized that everything that happened was just a result of that same desperation and anxiety we were all imprisoned by. On top of all, I actually knew him. I think his name was Roger and for the little I knew him, he was actually a nice guy. But every nice guy turns into a monster given the right conditions, but those conditions weren't his fault. While I was looking at him, I think that he assumed exactly the opposite idea, that everything was his fault, in reality it wasn't, that was the moment when the eternity disappeared.

The more I think about this world, the more I remember Net. The more I remember how  he changed with the passing of time. In the final moments I spent with him, he became so obsessed with everything, especially with the idea of meeting his parents. Before, when I think I used to love him, he just live in his ideas, he just moved back and forward, but later, he just became obsessed with them. He began doing experiments in the Bio-Lab, he managed to hack a long list of data containing the personal and biological data of a lot of Luvic workers. He then began to do DNA experiments, comparing which worker matched with his DNA. Of course, this was going to take him years, but he didn't care. He hired hackers to acquire all of the information necessary to tracked them, after that, I think that he actually hacked a file pertaining to the Luvic Diaphora (The Elite researcher group for the Luvic Corporation), he thought his parents were part of that group, those files were almost impossible to acquire by someone like us, but he did, and he became more obsessed than ever.

I already hated the sex and I knew he to, I already hated being with him and I knew he hated to be with me to. He was always lost in the woods, never available when needed and with the passing of time, he became never needed. I naturally decided to fell in love with someone else and that someone else got me killed...

I don't want to remember more of this stuff but it seems that I'm just trapped in these memories; I just want to escape them. I now live in the forest where I died, at first I thought that this was just some kind of illusion, more like a dream, a death dream, however, every time the essence of the forest seems more vivid, every time I can smell the trees, flowers and shit more intensively. I can feel the grass as if I had feet, as if I were still alive, lost in these woods of memories. I would like to know if I'm the only one here.

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Breaking Bad: What was Walter's final lesson?

Breaking bad ended a week ago, so I decided to write an analysis of this meaningful series, now that is still fresh in my mind.



First of all, I have to say that Breaking Bad it's the best television series that I have ever watched in terms of quality and pacing. By that I mean that it has no downfalls, there are no low seasons, it's impossible to find a boring episode, impossible to detect a bad or useless character, this series is an achievement of storytelling and dramatic pacing. It's a rare phenomenon to find a series in which everything just fits perfectly at the perfect moment in an over all time-lapse of 5 seasons. There is no other series for me that has done this, not even The Sopranos were able to pull this off. (the first part of the six season was definitively a downer.)
In Breaking Bad nothing like this ever happened, all that was written had a purpose and all the pieces fell at the right moment.
But leaving all of those factors behind, let's analyze Breaking Bad like the great modern literary work that it is. Let's analyze this series as people analyze The Great Gatsby or Crime and Punishment. Breaking Bad deserves this.
And of course, we have to ask ourselves, what is the main theme of Breaking Bad? What was its lesson? What did this show taught us?

Crime is bad, actions have consequences, crime is addictive, power corrupts people, crime can destroy your family.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I thought of them too, but after re-watching the pilot episode I realized none of these themes are the crucial message this story wanted to transmit.
Of course, the themes I mentioned above are present throughout the whole series, but they are just the consequences of the real deal.
In my opinion, the central theme of Breaking Bad is: The terrible damage that a life of unfulfillment can do.
First, let me start with the fact that Walter was a genius. Brilliant Mind type of genius or as Hank puts it "A freaking brainiac". A man who was destined to be the leader of an important scientific revolution or the head of a giant technological company. But, that never happened. He was an ambitious genius who never had a chance to shine. Betrayed by his friends and blinded by conformity, he threw away a life full of potential to become the man we meet at the first episode.

This theme of numbness that we see in the pilot episode it's so important because that's exactly what happens to many people. A lot of us are just blinded with conformity and carried away by time that when we realize, half of our life has passed and we haven't accomplish anything that we desired when we were younger. The world and the passing of time just made us numb, and now you just have to coupe with this life you have right now, which is also the rest of it.
At the beginning of the series, Walt (our genius) was a prisoner of this numbness in which many of us are, but when he got his cancer diagnosis everything changed for him.
Receiving his cancer diagnosis (which lead him becoming a criminal) was the moment in which the real Walt, that ambitious mastermind, awoke from this numbness. You can clearly see this in the Pilot episode.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="437"] "I am awake"[/caption]

The cancer diagnosis was just the perfect justification to turn his life around and escape this horrible and conformist present he now lived in.
Walter never (and when I say never it's NEVER) needed to cook crystal meth to begin with.
He had his pals (or not so pals) of Gray Matter to back up his treatment, but he decided to reject them. Partly because of pride but also because that option wouldn't help him escape this horrible unfulfilled life he now lived in.
Initially, cooking meth was just a "badass" way to prove to himself that he was able to handle this situation. When he got more involved in the drug underworld of Alburquerque as Heisenberg, he realized that he was a desired and respected entity there. Finally someone recognized his abilities and the criminal world was the place where he received that absent fulfillment. The criminal world was the perfect place to build his empire.
But of course, this was the worst possible way in which someone could "awoke". This awakening had brutal and irredeemable consequences for himself, his family and a lot of other people by the end of the series.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="445"] He was Ozymandias king of kings. Now nothing besides remains.[/caption]

But I believe this was the great lesson that Heisenberg had to taught us at the end. This story is not just about an unfulfilled genius. The overall message of this story could apply to any other human being:
Wake up, take control of your life right now, do what you want to do, find fulfillment, before it's too late, before you're old and trapped in a life style in which you can't escape, in which escaping means to hurt someone else, before you have to do what Walter did, before the last two options that you have left are: living whatever is left of this unfulfilled life or breaking bad.

[caption id="" align="alignnone" width="384"] Learn from this man, cause this man is a story.[/caption]

Thanks for reading.

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When do we actually know a language?

Many polyglots pride themselves by saying that they speak an X number of languages. Unfortunately I have always found this term (the term "speak") extremely vague and inconclusive when it's used in this way. It's in fact more vague and inconclusive when you realize that all of the polyglots have a different definition for it.



When can we say that we speak a language?

Many might say: "It's when you're able to hold a 20 minute conversation with someone", or "It's when you have total mastery of the language and you can pass as a native" others might say: "It's when you talk fluently about many different topics". Others might even say "When you just say a word or a phrase in another language, you're already speaking another language" and, you know... it's technically correct, you are speaking in another language.

And of course, then the ads for special miracle language learning products come: "Speak a language in 3 months,1 month, 2 weeks, " And I have even read "2 days". And of course, as all marketing tricks, they never define the terms that they are using and they keep the actual efficiency of the product as vague as possible.

What do they mean by "speak"? If by that they mean the second definition that I offered, then I'm extremely impressed. But if by "speak" they mean my last definition (which is most probably the case) then the term "speak" means nothing at all to me and holds no importance as an achievement.

So, when can we say that we speak a language?

I don't know.

Personally, I believe that we are asking the wrong question. The term "speak" is a bad measure of success in a language, since it holds no absolute definition, it can mean something incredible or something unimpressive.

Most of the time, when we study a language, we have the goal of being optimal users of this language or optimal readers. But I think that being an optimal language user or reader it's just the culmination of a lot of important language learning and acquisition processes that happened before. Being an optimal language user it's just the natural conclusion of these processes.

But now the question is, what are these language learning processes?

I'm not able to describe all of them, but I'm able to describe to you the one that I think it's the most essential and important, and that is: "To know the language"

To know the language, to be acquainted with it, to know it as a good friend or, putting it with more correct terms, "To have Linguistic Knowledge".

If there's one thing I'm beginning to hate more and more these days, it's without any doubt the use of vagueness when someone is discussing a topic that requires proper definitions.

I wouldn't like to be vague at all in this post and I'm going to define to you what I mean by "knowing a language".

If you're interested, the definition that I'm going to use for this term is the one described in the book "An Introduction to Language" by Victor Fromkin, Robert Rodman and Nina Hyams. This book is heavily used in the first years of MIT's Linguistics and Philosophy curriculum and it's completely amazing, check it out, it's a magnificent introduction to the great field of Linguistics.



So, as I said, I believe we are asking the wrong questions in this paradigm. Instead of asking when do we speak the language, we should ask:

When do we actually know the language?

Linguistics Knowledge is the first thing that you should be after, it's the basis of it all. Once that you acquire Linguistic Knowledge you can move to Functionality, then Fluency and (if you're that crazy for the language and the right conditions are met) Bilingualism.

This is how An Introduction to Language defines Linguistic Knowledge. If you present the following symptoms, that means you know the language you're studying, I'm so sorry.

Linguistic Knowledge is recognized when the following criteria are met:

• Knowledge of the Sound System.


• Knowledge of Words.


• Knowledge of Sentences and Nonsentences.


• Creativity of Linguistic Knowledge and Performance.

I'm going to explain these points in more detail.

• Knowledge of the Sound System:

"Part of knowing a language means knowing what sounds (or signs) are in that language and what sounds are not."

Ok, so you obviously speak English. English is a language that you know extremely well. So, if I say the word: "Correr", you instantly know that "Correr" is not an English word, it's not a word that belongs to the English language. But how did you know this? How did you know so instantly that 'Correr' wasn't an English word?

Easy, you know which sounds belong to English and which sounds don't. "Correr", that weird double r sound is nowhere to be found in English, so you instantly conclude :  that's not an English word. The same happens with signs while reading. If I write the word "Antaño". You know that's not English, what the hell is that 'ñ' thing? that sign doesn't exist in English, that's NOT English.

If you're studying a foreign language, let's say French. And if you're already able to figure out which sounds and signs belong to the French language and which sounds and signs don't, that's one sign that indicates that you know French.

• Knowledge of Words:

"When you know a language, you know words in that language, that is, which sequence of sounds are related to specific meanings and which are not."

In this context, we are going to define a "word" as "A sequence of articulated sounds that posses a specific meaning".

Knowing a language isn't just about recognizing individual sounds, it's also about recognizing sequence of sounds, recognizing words. Again, you know English, and if I say the word "Chaleco", you instantly know that's not an English word.

But why? I mean, let's analyze the sounds. We have "Cha", this is a sound that exists in the English language: you can find it in words such as "challenge", "charity", "charlatan". Then we have "le", again, that exists in English, you find it in words such as "lesser", "let", "lend", "elegant". Finally "co", which we can find in words like 'cop', 'cooperation', 'coalition', etc.

So, what's going on? How did you know this wasn't English? As I previously mentioned, it's not just about sounds, it's also about the sequence of these sounds. There's no word in the English language that sounds the way that 'Chaleco' does. Although its sounds exist in the English language, English words don't tend to sounds this way. The English language never uses that sort of sound sequence in its words.

If you're learning French and you're able to recognize which sequence of sounds do sound like a French word and which sequence of sounds don't, then, that's another signal that you know French.

• Knowledge of Sentence and Nonsentence:

"When you know a language,you know the sounds, the words and the rules for their combination. Our knowledge of a language determines which strings of words are well-formed and which strings are not."

This is where the interesting part begins. Syntax! Here is where you're able to realize if you indeed know the language. A language isn't just about sounds, it's about the sequence of these sounds (which are words), but it's still not only about words, it's also about the sequence in which these words are used.

If you know a language, you know the correct way in which people tend to form sentences and phrases.

You know English, so check this list of sentences:

1. John kissed the old lady who owned the shaggy dog.


2. Who owned the little shaggy dog John kissed the old lady.


3. John is difficult to love.


4. It's difficult to love John.


5. John is anxious to go.


6. It's anxious to go John.


7. John, who was a student, flunked his exams.


8. Exams his flunked student a was who John.

Can you tell me which sentences are OK and which sentences are kind of weird?

If you answered 1,3,4,5,7 and 2,6,8. Then you  have knowledge of sentences and nonsentences.

But why 2,6,8 are not sentences? Quite simply, because people don't talk that way. You've spent a lot of time with English and that time has allowed you to know that they never say stuff like that. Your experience allows you to recognize that no one speaks with that order, thus, those sentences are malformed.

While studying a foreign language, to be able to tell whether or not a sentence is using a correct structure, it's usually one of the hardest things to do. You require a good amount of exposition to the language in order to do this, and it takes time (sometimes, a lot). But, when you do it, it's one of the most remarkable achievements in language learning.

Knowledge of Senteces and Nonsetences means that you have acquired the syntax of this language (the syntax! probably the most important aspect of any language), if you have managed to do this, congratulate yourself, because this is quite an achievement.

• Creativity of Linguistic Knowledge and Performance:

"So, are you saying that you were the best friend of the woman who was married to the man who represented your husband in divorce?

In the history of speech, that sentence has never been uttered before."

Finally, knowing a language is not just about knowing the sounds, the words and the syntax. But it's also about using all of these elements in order to express yourself creatively. As the dialogue puts it: To create sentences that have never been uttered before. Or, to create sentences that we have never heard before. Creativity of Linguistic Knowledge is one of the most vital aspect if you want to express yourself or survive in another language.

I guess that's the most impressive thing about the human language. The fact that it's all about creativity. We're constantly creating sentences out of thin air in order to express ourselves in given situations, sentences that probably have never been said before or that we have never heard. Other animals also posses complex communicative systems, but in those communicative systems there's not a lot of creativity involved. Our langauge demands an enormous amount of creativity in order to use it. A non-creative being will never be able to use a human language properly, never.

And finally, if you're able to be creative with the foreign language that you're learning. If you can constantly form original sentences with a correct use of syntax and you posses all of the other criteria too, then, congratulations, you know the language.

As you can see, knowing a language it's not something easy. A language is an extremely complex entity. Getting to know a language is like getting to know a person. It's going to require time, exposition and different situations or approaches so you can see the multiple faces that this language really has.

After doing all of that stuff, you'll know that you know this language.

Best of luck in your language learning and thanks for reading.

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