Five steps to avoid procrastination and do things you do not want to do, but have to

February 22, 2019

By Eddy Montilla.

“I don’t want to do that, definitely!” is something that we hear or say very often. She doesn’t want to do the dishes, he doesn’t want to study, the children don’t want to go to school and you don’t want to go to work. These different examples have, however, something in common: You have to do your respective tasks even though you do not want to. This makes you feel terrible and leads you to procrastination and failure too. Let’s see how we can cope with it.

Step 1: Think about the end rather than the beginning

A pile or dirty dishes in the sink or hundreds of documents to read are not a pleasant call to action. From the sofa, the kitchen looks further, so does the power button of your computer. Things look gloomier because we cannot see beyond the problem that we have in front of us. Instead of tormenting yourself by thinking on things that you do not want to do, think about how happy you will be once the task comes to an end. “I don’t want to do it” discourages, but I’ll finish it soon!” makes you work with enthusiasm.

To read this topic completely and more interesting topics that will help you to solve your problems in life, it is available in Amazon the electronic book STEP BY STEP: Simple solutions to everyday problems. For further information, clic on STEP BY STEP: Simple solutions to everyday problems.

Copyright 2019 All rights are reserved.


Four steps to overcome the death of a loved one

February 20, 2019

By Eddy Montilla.


Death is the most baffling thing in life despite people’s attempt to conceal it with humorous eulogies as you can see in USA when a famous person dies or with long ritualistic ceremonies as it happens in Japan, for example. The truth is that, after all those things, what is left is the grief of losing a loved one. Let’s see how we can make those moments less painful.

Step 1: Don’t think about his (her) absence, but his (her) presence

When someone dies, your heart and mind go to the fact that you will never see that person again, which increases your sorrow. This thought is logical and understandable, but death is something that goes beyond our logic and that makes it necessary to adopt a different approach. Instead of thinking that he or she will never be at your side, think about the beautiful years you spent together. The idea of being present in your mind reduces the feeling of sadness for being absent.

To read this topic completely and more interesting topics that will help you to solve your problems in life, it is available in Amazon the electronic book STEP BY STEP: Simple solutions to everyday problems. For further information, clic on STEP BY STEP: Simple solutions to everyday problems.

Copyright 2019 All rights are reserved.

Talk to me, tell me something (part I)

February 19, 2019

By Eddy Montilla.

(Taken from the eBook Real stories told as fiction)

Hasdrubal looked down and began to contemplate a cockroach that came from the kitchen to stop impassively in front of him on pain of being killed by one of his shoes. He frowned at it for a while, but ended shrugging his shoulders with a sneer. Then, he raised his eyes to scan the spacious living room where he was.

On the floor, a pile of scrunched paper and unopened invitation letters for political meetings could be seen. The central table with its untidy chairs was tilted slightly, indicating that he had not received visitors for a long time. A minibar with a counter separated the living room from a kitchen full of dirty dishes in the sink that looked like a moribund man in the desert: They had not seen water over a long period of time. Two spiders moved around the webs they had spun among some glasses of wine that were hanging from the small ceiling of the minibar looking for some food. Hasdrubal’s house was still as impressive as always, but for some particular reason, the word cleanliness became its worst enemy as if nobody had lived there in years.

After eleven o’clock in the morning, Hasdrubal was still there, in that living room, with his almost classic trademark pink dressing gown. His house was huge, but except for the cockroach, those two spiders and him, nobody was there. Hasdrubal looked at his old office, near the living room where (with the same dressing gown) he used to receive dozens of people since very early in the morning who came to ask him for money or to give him money for a favor that he did to them or he would do in return. The minibar, of course, was only for those who belonged to the latter group. Yes, Hasdrubal was “The modern Godfather” of a traditionally corrupt society.

But that was not always the case. In fact, Hasdrubal was at first an honest loved teacher who worked enthusiastically for a rural school despite his meager salary that forced him from time to time to go to don Gregorio’s house to borrow some pesos whenever the motorcycle he used to commute broke down. His genuine economic hardship became part of history when he went into politics. Hasdrubal was a man of great talent as a leader. By one of those coincidences in life, he had the same name as the famous Carthaginian general and they also had strange things in common: they were great tacticians, but they were both more remembered for their defeats than for their victories.

Gradually, Hasdrubal began to seize political power in his town by making relationships with the most influential people and putting aside the others even though those who helped him in the past belonged to the last group. He grew very fast, too fast perhaps. He paid, however, a very high price for that: he had to sell “his soul” not to the Devil, but to loneliness.

During the bloody battles in Rome, Roman soldiers walked over the corpses of their enemies. Hasdrubal did the same, but without making distinction between those who were friends and those who were not: he was too much intoxicated with power for that, which explains why don Gregorio’s visits barely lasted two minutes the morning he went with his son to Hasdrubal’s house just to say hello and he responded to the greeting of the old man who many times got him out off the hook with threating words:

“Don Gregorio, you been included in “my black list.”

Outside, don Gregorio’s son asked his dad:

“Is he entitled to put your name on his so-called ‘black list’? Because I’m sure that if a ‘white list’ existed, most people in this town would write your name on the top ten most appreciated people of it.”

“I don’t know, son. As you can see, Hasdrubal grew too fast, as the same pace as his ego did. When something like that happens, a man turns into an ungrateful animal that only recognizes its owner at the moment of having food from him. After that, you have to move away like a ship in full sail because it will attack you and try to hurt you.”

Some years later, don Gregorio died. Thousands of people paid a fitting tribute to him for his years of devoted work and help in the interest of the town. Hasdrubal, however, was conspicuous by his absence.

Juan was Hasdrubal’s best friend and kept with him an unconditional friendship despite all accusations that began to emerge against him.

“Hasdrubal is a good friend until someone proves otherwise,” Hasdrubal’s staunch friend said.

Unfortunately, the person who proved what people said was Juan himself.

It was precisely Juan who opened the doors that led Hasdrubal to his political and economic development. He helped him get a good job in a firm and put him in contact with the privileged political circle. If it had not been for him, Hasdrubal would probably have been struggling to pay his bills. At first, Juan did not get Hasdrubal’s levels because he was very honest and he also put his family, friends and the community first. When his integrity made most people want him as their leader, Hasdrubal looked at him as his worst enemy.

“I don’t know you,” he told Juan publicly one day surrounded by his sycophants, and from the next day, he started to destroy him in all ways. He set a trap for him and things went so bad for Juan that he had to leave the town for a while. On a Sunday morning, some people were talking in front the town church about what Hasdrubal had done to his best friend.

An elderly woman heard those comments when she was walking home after mass and, with her rosary beads and Bible in her hands as if she were a prophet, she told them the same words that Jesus said in his most difficult moment, indicating their fate for having voted for Hasdrubal.

“Do not weep for me; weep instead for yourselves and for your children … For if these things are done when the wood is green what will happen when it is dry?”

And the dried wood was the town itself. Hasdrubal had a lot of enemies and those who did not belong to that category were warily kept at a distance. He changed so much that not even his own family could recognize him.

“Shut up!” he yelled at his neighbors (those who had always voted for him) one day when they were just playing with their kids outside. “Don’t you know that I’m the boss of this town?”

Hasdrubal slept with the wives of some candidates who belonged to his party because that was his so-called “loyalty test”. As for money, it is not necessary to talk about it. In Politics, a different political party seizes power not because its candidates are better than others, but because people get tired of the ruling party. So, when that moment came, the incredible came too.

To continue reading this and other astonishing stories that will keep you fascinated, go to the section ‘Real stories told as fiction’ where you can get information of the book available in Amazon in its electronic version (Kindle eBooks).

Copyrights 2019 All rights are reserved.

How does a friendship die? (part I)

February 18, 2019

By Eddy Montilla.

(Taken from the eBook Real stories told as fiction)

Larry and Edgar usually spent between 10 and 11 hours together. If they had not been great friends, it would have been said that they were the ideal couple, the perfect match, since they both shared a variety of similarities and discrepancies: Larry and Edgar were extremely intelligent; Larry belonged to a well-off family while Edgar’s last name was the word misery. They both loved the creative world of science, especially, theoretical physics; Larry was white and Edgar was black. They liked to play chess on weekends; Larry was never interested in women, but Edgar always succumbed to the temptation to see the fleshy part of woman’s breasts. They were filled with admiration for each other; Larry was a shy boy who usually was apprehensive about his future while Edgar was a resolute leader.

At school, Larry and Edgar sat together all the time. During the break, they could often be seen walking through the gardens and the inner courtyard, as if they were two potential Archimedes of Syracuse, talking about things that nobody understood except for their teacher. When the bell rang, Edgar always walked Larry to his house, but he could never go beyond the front door because it was some kind of impassable wall, the unbridgeable distance that separated that family from those who were economically, socially and culturally placed in an inferior position, which was tantamount to saying everybody at school. So, from outside, Edgar talked to Larry while trying to make out those oil paintings that were hanging on the wall like a small Louvre. Edgar could not be called a connoisseur of European painting, but he was really good at numbers and, despite any possible undervaluing, based on his calculations on the total value, he asked himself how on earth Larry and he became friends.

Right in the center, there was a lifelike portrait of Larry’s mother hugging his son tightly when he was 15 years old with a message written on it that disclosed how overprotective she was: “With my eternal child, Larry.”

Except for school hours, Larry could rarely go out of the house. His mother kept tight control over his social relationships, leaving small room only for close family member and some high-society people. Whenever Edgar heard her voice calling Larry “little prince” or “my piece of sugar”, he knew that Larry’s dinner was waiting for him on the table and, therefore, it was time to return to his home with the uncertainty about his own dinner. Larry endured his mother’s epithet because it was the only way to spend more time with his friend. She was against that friendship from the beginning and only accepted it in a very conditional way when her husband convinced her that it was a very good experience for him to feel directly how poor he could become if he makes no real effort to be rich.

Once at home, Edgar found himself inside a completely different world: an earth floor, a tin roof, old wooden walls and a living room with only a table as the only piece of furniture, which was artificially leveled, thanks to a small piece of rock under one of its legs. Edgar looked at his mother while she was working to leave everything ready for next morning, the moment when she had to get up very early to bake bread, bread that was the livelihood for the family. Edgar always took off his clothes quickly to help his mother, but not without telling her first that her years of misery were numbered. And it happened as he said eventually.

At 17, Edgar graduated from the best technological school in the city thanks to a scholarship for intelligent low-income students. His teacher gave him a glowing reference and he began to work for the best technological company. Then, he worked during the day and studied at night at the best university related to his field. Years later, he graduated with distinction. Brilliant minds do not look for a job: they are chosen by the best companies or they create their own. In his case, it happened the second idea, hence his new job let him grow economically so fast that in less than five years her mother had a new house with all things she could have wanted or imagined. She never had to get up early to work again. Edgar payed close attention to her new living room: fine wooden tables, sofas and, of course, some oil paintings. Edgar’s mother got rid of everything she had inside her hovel, except for the old wobbly table.

“The only way we can be sure that we will never be poor again is remembering how poor we were.”

But that was just the beginning for Edgar. He built an impressive two-level house (next to his mother’s) with granite kitchen counter-tops, a tiled living room of entry and all bedrooms located upstairs for maximum privacy and convenience. He also bought a car, I mean, a nice car. Life made him justice, or perhaps, he made justice himself.

And Larry? Larry studied the same as Edgar at the same university. He began to work for the same company, the same department at the same time. So, like the old times, they went to work together and returned to their respective houses together too, from Monday to Friday, until something began to put an end to that strange inseparable relationship: a woman.

Yes. The unlikely for many became the likely for few, and later, reality for everybody: Edgar got married. He had already gotten all he needed and wanted and when a man gets to that level, two things begin to prey on his mind like a ghost haunting the house: the obsessive desire of power or a family to see himself extended through his descendants. So, Edgar went from sleeping with his girlfriend on weekends to make that young woman his wife for every day. A lot of men who seem to be very strong end up marrying a woman stronger than them to satisfy an unfathomable need and some kind of mystery at the same time: they want to feel themselves under control.

Edgar’s wife did what he wanted in an extreme form, perhaps, as she demanded more time to be the two together and less time to be with Larry, her rival as for time matters so Edgar was forced to distance himself from his friend. Their private moment went from several times per day to weekends, and later, to Sundays only when they usually had their classic chess battles and deep scientific conversations.

For Edgar, accepting those changes was not easy and he went through a period of emotional adjustments. However, he could deal with that situation because he had at least the company of someone that he partially loved, but Larry, Larry had nothing to hold on to. His only thing of value since he was a child (Edgar’s friendship) began to fade away and he did not want to let it go. What did he do? The most unfathomable thing that you can imagine …

To continue reading this and other astonishing stories that will keep you fascinated, go to the section Real stories told as fiction where you can get information of the book available in Amazon in its electronic version (Kindle eBooks)

Copyright 2019 All rights are reserved.

Alvin (part I)

February 16, 2019

By Eddy Montilla.

(Taken from the eBook Real stories told as fiction)

When Miss Lawrence asked her pupils what they wanted to be in the future, the first kid who raised his hand was Alvin and, with his heart pounding with excitement, he did not even wait for his teacher’s nod to answer her question.

“I want to be a bus driver!” he proudly said.

“A what?”

“A bus driver, Miss Lawrence,” Alvin repeated.

According to the teacher’s canons of thought, Alvin’s wish quality (bus driver) and the emotion he showed when he was talking about it did not match well. For that reason, she tried to persuade him to change his answer by recommending him commonly wanted professions. The kid, however, stood as firm as a rock in his decision.

“My father is the school bus driver and he’s always happy, Miss Lawrence. Other adults I know begin to laugh when they finish their work, so my father is always winning!” Alvin said, a kid whose only toy in his entire life was a plastic bus.

“Children’s preferences usually change like a second hand of a clock,” the teacher thought. Nevertheless, that was not Alvin’s case: he only wanted to satisfy his will and find his own identity, two things that merged almost perfectly at a point that Alvin knew well and liked a lot: the school bus.

Alvin lived in a rural area with a lot of rough paths. Except for agricultural work, people’s chances for a better job were very slim and, therefore, the area had gradually lost a large part of its population. Young people and whole families moved to big cities looking for a job and better life, especially those who were reluctant to do manual labor, which forced authorities to close some schools and concentrate all children in one place. Alvin’s father was the person responsible for taking the children to school in the morning and take them back home in the afternoon, and the only way he could do that task on time was leaving the bus school in front of his modest house every day since the students lived in distant places and the school was far away from them, located almost at the top of a hill. Alvin was, therefore, the first student to get on the bus and the last one to get off it. As the bus route was very long, Alvin did his homework inside the bus, but the truth is that he was historically connected with that vehicle even before he was born to a point that it verges on the implausible: he was conceived inside the bus. Because of the unavailability of the local ambulance and miscalculation of his “date of arrival”, he was born there too. On Saturdays, Alvin was in charge of the bus cleaning, doing his job so happily (and tenderly) that to watch him could make lose his head even to the most stoical Roman soldier.

When he was 18, Alvin went to the nearest city to get his driving license. Sometimes, a lot of people were under the impression that he could drive better than his own teacher, and they were not wrong about it: Sitting on his father’s lap, Alvin began to drive the bus school when he was only 7 years old. At 12, he drove alone with his father sitting next to the driver’s seat and at 14, he never needed more instructions. The day when he could legally drive, his father told him only two things like commandments to be remembered forever.

“When you drive your own vehicle, pay almost all your attention to the car in front of you. In the end, the driver who hits from behind is the person who usually has to pay more. And the most import thing, son: when you drive a public bus, never forget that all people who have gotten on the bus have put their trust in you and their lives in your hands. Don’t let them down.”

“Yes, dad. I understand. I will be the best bus driver in the world!”

Some time later, Alvin began to work with his father as a driver’s assistant. As years passed, the time of retirement came for Alvin’s father and a contest was held to decide the new bus driver. Even though there were 39 applicants, the announcement of the winner was something like a mystery novel without mystery. After all, except for his father, nobody knew the bus route between the children’s houses and the school better than Alvin.

On his first day at work, Alvin was wearing the classic blue uniform while a gray-haired man was looking at him proudly from a rocking chair. When Alvin was about to get on the same bus that his father drove during his last years, he got up out of the rocking chair, he fixed him his new peaked cap and told him:

“Do you still remember the most important commandment I told you when you were a child, Alvin?”

“All people who get on my bus have put their trust in me and their lives in my hands. I can’t let them down,” Alvin said. His father could feel a lump in his throat. He put his both hands over his son’s neck, smiled and said goodbye to him in a low voice. Only when his son was very far from him, he let his tears began to flow from his eyes.

The kids loved Alvin for the jokes and stories he told them when the school bus was not in motion, their parents felt the same for him for the sense of safety that he gave them by being seated behind the wheel. The path to school was narrow and, above all, sinuous. Its surface had not been replaced by asphalt in a long time, turning the path into a dangerous road of potholes and pieces of stony ground, which worried them. But rather than that, their greatest fear was the steep ascent to the top of the hill that Alvin had to drive up to get to school. As for their feelings, they were not the only ones, but Alvin always tried to cast out their fears while he looked for a solution. The guardrail at both sides of the path that protected against the cliff was so old that it only played a decorative role over there. Besides, the school bus was as old as Alvin’s father. What happened then? Well, what all of you imagine, but not in the way that all of you think.

It was an almost normal Friday in the morning. A fresh layer of snow covered the path and Alvin and his driver’s assistant went as always to pick up the students to take them to school. Alvin was driving more carefully than usual. If he rarely talks when he drives, on that day, he looked like a cemetery at midnight and this instilled fear in his driver’s assistant who, after seeing a couple of ravens and hearing them growling, making a rough unpleasant cry, he made the worst of all possible choice of words:

“I don’t like ravens, Alvin. They bring bad luck.”

Alvin was shrouded in adamant silence. The bus had gotten the last and most dangerous part: the straight steep path before its final destination. That was the moment when Alvin took a deep breath, held the wheel firmly and began to shift gear with extremely care as the hill got steeper and steeper despite having taken the same road thousands of times because he knew that when daily things become daily routine, danger begins. He had reached almost the top of the hill, only some meters away from the door that leads to the school garden, when a gray rabbit jumped suddenly in front the bus. Alvin could not see it clearly due to the snowflakes and the speed of the situation.

“An animal or a kid? Should I continue or stop the bus?”

Alvin had to weigh up a lot of things, but time was its worst enemy. Finally, he opted to do what most people do in such circumstances, to stop the bus, but, unfortunately, that was the worst choice and, above all, the beginning of all his problems.

The old school bus began to move back. Alvin apply the brakes gently and they failed. Sometimes, misfortunes have the bad habit of coming in the company of others of their own kind. Thus, when he tried to put the emergency brake on, it also failed. The driver’s assistant had a feeling that something was quite wrong when saw Alvin pressing his foot down on the brake pedal several times to stop the bus, but to no avail and rushed to his side. Alvin knew very well the assistant’s tendency toward premature panic. Therefore, before he could begin to shout in front of the children that everybody was going to die, Alvin told him that if he heard a single word about what was going on there, the only person who would certainly die was him because Alvin himself would throw him out of the window to the cliff. That was not a joke since he was not laughing and Alvin always laughed after his jokes.

“Inside the bus, there is a chance that you will survive, but at the bottom of the cliff, you are dead already.”

The kids began to fret since the bus had been moving back for a long time. Alvin told them that he was doing that to sing the song “We are going backward because we will move forward” and asked them to hold on tight while singing it. Alvin, for his part, avoiding any sudden movement, moved the wheel to make backward zigzags, trying to stop the bus in that way. The bus slowed down, but that was not enough to stop it and Alvin knew it well. The part of the path full of potholes was about to finish and once that happened, the bus would not have more potholes to hit and it would gain speed. That would undoubtedly be the beginning of the end.

A lot of things crossed Alvin’s mind at that time … those parents saying goodbye to their kids when they were getting on the school bus in the morning and the way they hugged each other in the afternoon when they were at home already, the trust they had placed in him and, above all, the promise he made to his father.

“I have to do something and now,” he thought. And he did it, but in the most astonishing way that you could ever imagine.

When he saw that he had already done everything possible, but it did not work at all, he decided to try … the impossible.

To continue reading this and other astonishing stories that will keep you fascinated, go to the section ‘Real stories told as fiction’ where you can get information of the book in its electronic version (Kindle eBooks).

Copyright 2019 All rights are reserved.

STEP BY STEP: Simple solutions to everyday problems

February 16, 2019

By Eddy Montilla

STEP BY STEP is a Kindle eBook that provides simple solutions to everyday problems. How? STEP BY STEP! If you can’t stand your co-worker, you don’t get along with your neighbors, you have problems with your husband/wife (boyfriend/girlfriend), this is the right book for you. Here, you will find ideas to deal with your problems at work, your family, people, personal relationships, your own heart and other aspects of life. The book leads you to find solutions based on the use of an effective method. Learn to do it STEP BY STEP.

By acquiring this eBook you not only learn a lot of interesting things while having fun, but you also help Mejor Mañana (A Better Tomorrow), an association that helps children who live in poor conditions to improve their living conditions through education.

Copyright 2019 All rights are reserved.

Jokes to brighten your life

February 16, 2019

By Eddy Montilla

This Kindle eBook is the finest collection of original jokes, divided into categories, that will make you start your day with a good laugh. JOKES TO BRIGHTEN YOUR LIFE will quickly become your best medicine for your stress and sadness. Guaranteed quality!!

By acquiring this eBook you not only learn a lot of interesting things while having fun, but you also help Mejor Mañana (A Better Tomorrow), an association that helps children who live in poor conditions to improve their living conditions through education.

Copyright 2019 All rights are reserved.