September 30, 2014

Fall

Tis what life shall bring.
Let me be clear on what exactly dystopia means.

Dystopia:

An imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one. 

To make you understand better, I guess the simplest way of telling you what a dystopia is would be explaining the only thing that I have left in my life, if one would call it a life. This, is my story. 



It all started three hundred years ago, when the "internet" started to be developed massively.The time came when no one could have a life if not with their portable telephones. My distant relatives were firm believers of leaving behind that beast of a thing which sucked the life out of whoever held it in their hands. For them, it was merely an object to set aside. Now, those objects that were of so importance and vital for their living are now collecting dust in the very corners of the masers. Do you not know of the masers? Barely anyone passes by them, they are in the ruins of the old cities, those like New York, London and Madrid. I believe in the old language, the word for a maser was a museum. The older masers were torn down by the scum that filtered through the streets, merely a hundred years back, when everything started to go desperately wrong, for the ones who live the devastation left, is us.

For those who are to come, I fear for what may lay ahead. But for now, I may only suffer in silence, beyond what I have fought to avoid. Everyday I try hard to make amends with the society I now live in, but every day, I find it harder to survive. The sights all around me are like nothing you have ever seen before. The view from my very window would be considered an exceptionally unique landscape, except, for the fact that I personally dislike having rotten, melted rubbish just being dumped in front of my house for endless periods of time.

Some time ago, the need for electricity grew, and, with it, the necessity for water to cool down all the engines and generators. Now, that meant the sea levels started to decrease with the sudden overwhelming drain of the water in it. And, as everything in life, the water supply wasn't infinite, not even taking into account all the continental water that had already been pumped out in all the ways possible. Thus being the fact, we were left without water.

Technology advanced, and with it, some of the needs for water decreased though, unfortunately, it failed to advance fast enough, and the Earth became the desolate desert I now live in. Plants started to wither and die, trees became less and almost disappeared altogether. Rain forests and forests ceased to exist, masses of green erased from Earth. I fear there is not much more to tell you, for the only knowledge I posses has been passed down through generations, each story unwinding and expanding from its author, creating twisted story lines waving back and forth through time. Paper books were abandoned for the lack of paper, and, though technology prospered, it only did so for a while until thing began to go downhill with global resources and economies, retaking us to past centuries where knowing things was as rare as having money.

What I can tell you is the outstanding increase of the human population. So incredible was it that many, many, spaceships were sent out with thousands of people on each one, but because we no longer had any means of communication, they were lost forever into the great darkness. Such drastic measures were taken in vain unfortunately, and the planet was still filled to the brim, causing the deaths of millions by famine, droughts, being broke or having no where to live and sleep.

My time is now different. Nothing would please me more than being able to tell you everything is going much better and the human race has taken over again, but I'm afraid I can't, for we are now fewer than ever, striving to live a life never meant for us. To tell you about the marvelous smells I enjoy as soon as I open a window would be lying. There is nothing but foul odors invading your nasal cavity sensory cells, the very reason it is impossible to step outside without being poisoned. Yes, we are still humans just like those who lived so many years ago and oxygen is very much needed still, which is why it is supplied by tanks who try to recreate its original essence, but in vain. Tanks which are only chemical reactions determine our live source. Tubes, tubes that let us live.

Huge embankments of garbage and trash the size of countries right outside your window. No fauna to be proud of, only those that managed to have a mutation and survive the bitter conditions. Drastic changes in temperatures at sudden times.

For this to be left to those that remain makes me shudder. I for one, cannot say we are what we used to be, for greed and wanting everything destroyed everything. Our everything, the green planet.

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Do not take the Earth for granted, take for granted every day will never be the same for it. Take care of our dear planet, it will not last forever.

http://www.50waystohelp.com/

http://www.begreensystems.co.uk/

http://www.kidsbegreen.org/

http://www.wikihow.com/Help-Save-the-Planet-Earth

http://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/green-science/save-earth-top-ten.htm


Read, love, enjoy, share. Luv you

  Esther Alós © All rights reserved 

September 01, 2014

Regular Anomaly

He's at it again. But he doesn't mean it. Right? Wait no, no doubt. He doesn't mean it, yeah, I'm sure of that. Practically sure, almost sure. Almost? No, sure. Okay, stop it, you are sure, you are confident and you know it. You really know it. Go on, get up, go to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Yeah, that's it, with discretion, nobody is noticing , you're doing great. Stare into the mirror, go on. I see what I shouldn't see, I see a haggard woman, ridden with the years of continuous repetition. Mark. And spirits. My husband and alcohol.
For thinking it could go away so quickly, the punishment is to endure the pain for a longer period. Much to say about last night, yet so little to be able to tell. Imagine yourself in a dinner party with two old friends you haven't seen in a long time. Imagine a carefully set up table, with each tableware carefully laid out, each knife, each fork, placed with the exact measures required for the perfect dinning place. Imagine candlelight lighting up each plate with a exquisite delicacy, the amount needed to see the luxuries calculated on each place. A work of art, to be exact. And yes, I most definitely went all out to make everything perfect. Wouldn't you do that, taking in consideration that the friends coming to dinner were one of the richest and, I hate to admit, snobbiest couples around. To have everything laid out as it is supposed to is practically doing nothing for the great Mrs.Enriqueta Williams, note the sarcasm.

At the beginning, everything went as planned, with no reason to fear the wrath of gossip flowing around, sprouting from Mrs.Williams mouth. Then my dear Mark took out another bottle of red wine, and another, and another. Already Mrs.Williams mouth was turned down in distaste, and Mark's comments getting louder by the moment, reaching the level of shouting I was so used to hearing every single day, from dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn.

I know he doesn't mean it, he just really likes to drink, what happened last night was just another mistake of his, he doesn't mean no harm. Yesterday, an oddness in between the usual roughness of the situation, a disadvantage of sorts to the rest of us. Mrs.Williams acted affected while her husband merely looked looked down at Mark.And even they knew the worst was still to come, the starting of the parade was as commonly known as the introductions for the upcoming masterpiece, for the work of art prepared by the host of the show, in this case, Mark. And true to his word, Mark displayed an uncanny enthusiasm as he retold stories of the past, so enthusiastic with his wonderful past that the stores were being linked together in a nonsense of slurred words jumbling out in a hurried mass of misunderstanding.

I can not quite remember the number of the many wine bottles displayed on the table, nor can I recount the beers wasted in honour of the festivity. Shameful fact being the festive occasion used as an excuse, yet if not for a special night, many more would have been opened. I thoroughly hate, pardon my excessive use of the word unfortunately needed, anything to do with alcohol, ridden into my system throughout the years like a disease waiting to be cured, but never having enough funds to be able to get through the never ending bad patch. 
Throughout the night, a sour taste invaded my palate, in honour of my dear Mark. But he meant no harm, I know he didn't, he never does. It's only the alcohol taking, you can't blame him, it wasn't his fault. From many have come the words I now dread, one day he'll hurt you, don't take it lightly, it's a big problem, don't defend him, etc. But my mind may not care, for love has over-passed anything else, to even begin to ponder about the dangers only some people can bring on.

Rowdy and violent, desperate and loud, Mark is. But alas, never shall a fault of his be pulled to light by me. To me, he is but the divine perfection.The Williams wasted no time to flee the nest of destruction living in my household. If only but anybody else could see the halo around Mark, I wouldn't strive so for what is a building without its foundations.  And for what unknown fact shall I destroy the glue holding me together,  for which crimes should Mark pay, but for the one of loving me.
To me, the ruined table that lays in the dining room is worth but a mere thought, a bitter memory of a passed night. To me, the smell that still lingers throughout the house is like smelling yourself, you know it exists yet you are oblivious to the smell any longer. Yet, if I were to think about it I would smell it, and admit I must, the smell is slightly different. Lighter. For Mark passed out long before he could drink his daily share of alcohol, his rightful medicine, as he might say. A rightful sin, as others might say. A rightful life, as I permanently will say.


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Addiction to alcohol is not something to be taken lightly. The character in my story was a devoted wife who never saw any harm in what her husband was doing. She will sometimes lose it and think that it is actually wrong, yet she will continue to protect and defend him.

Alcohol addiction can be caused by many, many factors, of which we have no right to judge but we do have to take precautions with those who live around us, and take care of them, help them and, most of all, love them through it all, just be careful to not overdo it like my character, because then it becomes a serious problem that is very, very hard to overcome. The most important fact os to help with the problem because as much as you may convince yourself, it IS a problem.

http://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/ 

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/alcohol_abuse_alcoholism_help_treatment_prevention.htm

http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2013/09/26/steps-toward-recovery-from-alcohol-addiction/

http://www.narconon.org/drug-rehab/alcoholic-family.html

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/alcohol_abuse_alcoholism_signs_effects_treatment.htm

  Esther Alós © All rights reserved