Special Eyes Chapter 1

Stories often start with a meeting, and this story is no different. 

It all started in a school playground. At the back corner of the vividly green square of grass, a little girl stumbled around while waving her arms about as if swarmed by bees. The other children saw this and kept a wide berth away, fearful for they saw nothing around her.

The girl was famous in the school for having a vivid sense of imagination. A vivid, WORRYING sense. Bluntly, everyone thought she was cuckoo crazy because she always acted like there were things around her when there was really nothing there. She often times talked to empty air, and sometimes even screamed at things invisible. Many of the adults believed a that she should see "professional help". But her great-aunt was dismissive of everyone's concerns.

"Ah, she'll outgrow it," the old woman said to the school counselor one meeting. "She's just a kid."

"But Ms. Tsing!"

The old woman cut him off. "You want Demon Ear Twist?"

The counselor immediately shut his mouth. He knew just as well as everyone else in town that the Demon Ear Twist of the infamous "Granny Tsing" was no joke. An idiot tried to rob her once a few years ago, and to this day, the pain from his ear made him scream in agony.

From his office, a white mug of steaming black coffee in his hand, the counselor watched the girl for a few seconds. He shook his head, closed the blinds and turned away.

Whatever was bothering her, no amount of shooing would rid the girl of her invisible tormentors. And no one was going to help her, no matter how much she might plead or cry. Of that, she was convinced from past experience. But then -

"Yah! Yah! Hi-yah!"

Suddenly a boy appeared in front of her and performed punches and kicks while yelling out. His moves were clumsy mimicry of Kung Fu, making him look more silly than fierce. But he kept at it, dancing his way around the girl, who was so startled, she forgot what troubled her only seconds ago.

After a while, he stopped and flashed the girl a smile.

"You okay?" he asked.

Like the girl, the boy was of Asian descent. He was round-faced and had a little belly bulge beneath his Captain America t-shirt. The girl recognized him as one of her classmates, a boy who just moved to town and transferred to this school a few days ago. In his class intro, he said his name was . . . Jackie. That's right. He said his name was Jackie Li.

After a bit of thinking, a question popped into her head and then, no sooner, left her lips. "Can you see them too?"

The boy blinked. "See what?" he asked.

Disappointed by the answer, the girl muttered, "Nothing. Never mind." 

And then she turned to run, only to stop because of a question burning in her mind.

"Why did you do that just now?" she asked Jackie.

Jackie looked at her, confused. "Do what?"

"You know," said the girl, re-enacting Jackie's earlier pretend Kung Fu. "That."

"Oh! That! Well," answered Jackie, "it looked like something was really bothering you. I couldn't see what, but I wanted to help. Did it work?"

He looked at the girl, looking eager for affirmation.

The girl hesitated. She was used to being shunned by peers her age, so she wasn't sure what to say to someone who was actually being nice to her. She wasn't even sure if that was what Jackie was actually doing.

But none the wiser to this hesitation, Jackie just continued to smile that big, silly smile at her.

I should say something, thought the girl. And she opened her mouth to speak again, but then Jackie's face fell. The girl felt a rise in her throat, fearful she had waited too long to answer. But then she realized that she was not the cause of Jackie's frown. 

The real cause stood behind her: a tall man with flaming red hair and a bit lopsided jaw. One thing that stood out about the man outside of his hastily assembled gray suit and loose black neck tie was the piece of gold clipped to his belt. The man was a police officer.

"Sorry," Jackie said, rather listless. All his earlier energy was gone. "I gotta go home. My da- I mean, my STEP-dad's here to pick me up."

He slowly started to trudge away. The girl watched, once more tongue-tied. But then Jackie stopped and turned around.

"Oh, I almost forgot. What's your name?"

The girl thought for a moment and then figured it wouldn't hurt. "It's Alice. Alice Tsing."

From that day on, Jackie approached Alice every day and they hung out together on the playground and after school. Alice was sure that their friendship wouldn't last long. Sooner or later, she would scare him off, just like she did the others because of the things she had to deal with, the things no one else could see. 

But as the days turned to weeks, the weeks turned to months, and the months turned to years, Jackie and Alice's friendship endured. One need only look at the top of Jackie's drawer cabinets for proof: framed photos of the duo as, from right to left, they transformed from little children to grown teenagers. The most recent was taken a few months ago, at the start of their second year as high schoolers.

Now a tall, lanky young man, Jackie sat at the edge of his bed. In contrast to the carefree moments captured on film, however, he stared at the floor with a cloud of gloom hanging over his head. Looming over him like envoys of Death were two men in suits with police badges clipped to their belts. A third man, Jackie's step-father, stood at the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and watched while frowning.

The oldest of the men, a round-faced, gray-bearded gentleman, cleared his throat.

“Look, son,” he said in a soft, emphatic voice, “I know this might be hard, but can you tell us what you can about last week Friday? Whatever you can. Even the smallest detail could be the key to us solving the case. Please? For your friend?”

Jackie glanced at the photos, and then at his step-father who gave a short nod.

After taking a deep breath, Jackie looked straight at the older police officer and said, “Alright. I’ll tell you what happened. I’ll tell you everything I can remember about the day . . . The day that Alice disappeared.”

                                                                                                      Chapter 2 ==>

My Partner's Article: My life itself is my prayer

Introduction:

Hey everyone. If you follow me on Bluesky, you know that I had a plan to bring in a guest writer. That plan is in action today. Today's article is completely written by someone not me. My partner would rather not be named when credited for their articles, so I will only be calling them My Partner on this blog. I hope you enjoy.

"My life itself is my prayer"

By, My Partner

What my name is does not matter. Where I come from does not matter.

This writing is merely fragments — not insignificant ones, but pieces that form part of who I am. Over the years, they sometimes appear childish, sometimes bitter, sometimes unreasonable.

I even accept, with a touch of vanity and no trace of humility, these labels: Blanchot, Weil, Bataille, Kundera, Camus, mysticism, materialism, God…

One day, the ground collapsed. Among the mound of soil around you, you discovered a beam of faint light, which illuminated the end of your gaze.

I stood up. The curtains were drawn, yet the sunlight clung to the windows and filled the room. There was something there I could no longer bear. The heat? Yes, the heat, and this light: it had the watery dullness and persistence that flows where there is an opening, seeps through where there is none; it spreads over hours, days, centuries, just like water.

 Behind the windowpane, turbid water flows, converging from all directions as if it might seep outside. With its unsettling fluid transparency in motion, it steadily supplants the rigid clarity of the glass. 

Eyes open, yet asleep — resting on the thinking sponge, warm and gentle. I’ve never felt such stillness before, so deep that the one speaking or typing felt like another — a separate being living inside me, both sharply critical and utterly endearing.

Everyone will live until the night when love is fully completed.

Nevertheless, the pen remains the sharpest spear, and the book the sturdiest shield. It brings to mind this passage from Maurice Blanchot: No matter how unfortunate we believe ourselves to be, as long as we still reign over it, we remain comfortably situated within it. From this perspective, writing is the greatest violence — for it usurps all laws, every law, even its own. 

Life is a scream which one cannot desire to ameliorate. It is rather that one would exacerbate it. Agony alone has the power to seduce us. and it is to our most savage torments that we most ardently cling, we know that a life which was not torched into charcoal by desire would be an unendurable insipidity. (Pain, however, remains pain. A word that is easily written. Perhaps there is little point in remarking upon it. One could imagine innumerable spurious reasons for reiterating the word 'scream' for instance. That life itself is filthy hurt... who could care about this being discussed? Everyone and no-one' as Nietzsche suggests?)

At its root literature is writing for nothing, a pathological extravagance whose natural companions are poverty, ill-health, mental instability, and all the other symptoms of a devastated life that is protracted in the shadow of futility. In the current organization of civilization the facility of contacting a text is---- at the very least ----radically accidental with respect to its literary intensity. The bare minimum of honesty requires an acknowledgement that literature is spent almost entirely unattended. It is as foreign to us in our social being as an earthquake beneath the sea.

 “When one attempts to interpret existence as something borne through daily life, the notion of creation becomes unacceptable.”​​

Memory is the present that never ceases to fade. —Octavio Paz

The value of life can only be resistance and revolt expressed with all the energy of despair. And this despair itself is a great love of life, of true human values and great instinctive forces, of all that we experience. Countless moments, like fireworks, flash before my eyes:

Last night, as I was driving home from the parking lot after work, I had forgotten to turn on my headlights. Just after I exited the gate, a security guard about 20 meters away shouted urgently: "Hey! You forgot to turn on your lights! Turn them on! Turn them on! Quickly! Drive safely!"

Tears immediately welled up in my eyes — all because of a stranger's kindness.

On a winter night, a dog ran out of an alley and kept going forward without looking back. It entered a house, and I smiled. Such an ordinary thing, yet it healed my heart. The dog, too, had a home, an internal clock — it was in a hurry to return. It ran, not walked.

Through the night we gallop on a somber mare, scattering blue ears of grain across the fields. —Pablo Neruda

"Poetry drips onto the heart like dew moistening the pasture grass."

Early morning, the road was wet and glistening. Rain, too, is a playful artist — painting the ground with dark, wide ribbons. I walked along this path of art, surrounded by the scent of wood that only winter brings, and the sweet fragrance of sleeping soil, like the scent of milk. Suddenly, the rain picked up again. I hurried; then it stopped, and I slowed down. Soon, heavy rain poured like beans. It was like a brief romance I had with the winter rain.

Yesterday, I finally moved all my treasured possessions to the new house. Back in the old place, my parents had no idea how many books I actually owned. My mom thinks three books are enough for a lifetime. But when I packed them up and asked my dad to help carry them downstairs, he opened my door, took one look, and gave me the most baffled look. He said, “Are you running a library or something?” then was practically speechless. Honestly, it’s not even that many — just six large boxes in total.

My goal is simple: earn more money to buy more books. In fact, the whole reason I bought this new place was because of them. My sense of security has always come from my books.

A kind word slipped out like a sigh of contentment.

A familiar, serene restlessness. It’s been a month since I moved out on my own. Now back at my parents’ place for the holiday, I found myself alone this morning—both of them had gone out. I read quietly for a while, then lay down to nap. Half-drowsing, I heard piano notes drifting from the neighbor on the left, the rhythmic chopping of firewood from the right, and the faint sounds of a soap opera from across the street.

I never quite fell asleep, yet those comfortable noises wrapped around me like a lullaby. I opened my eyes and saw fragments of golden sunlight filtering through my mom’s new lace curtains, falling gently across the table—as though the light itself was peeking quietly into this vast, lazy stretch of holiday tranquility.

An autumn breeze rustled the plants outside the door, carrying their soft, raspy whisper. Everything felt so beautifully still.

It got colder today. On the chilly night road, everyone was rushing home for a bowl of dumplings. Halfway there, I noticed the cars ahead were moving unusually slowly, and I muttered a curse under my breath. When several cars bypassed from the left, I turned right and saw an elderly woman riding a bicycle with a bundle of candied hawthorns strapped to the back. She pedaled silently with her head down, clearly in the wrong lane.

Can she see well? Has she eaten dinner? Where is she going? Is she cold? Is she alone? I felt deeply ashamed of those words I had uttered.

At noon, I sank into sorrowful contemplation and wrote half a poem. I didn’t finish it—work suddenly came up, and after I was done, it was time to clock off. I won’t continue it tomorrow. Sorrowful contemplation is meaningless.

This night awaits us, permeates us; we must continue to frustrate its expectation — only thus is it night. —Jacques Dupin, The Climb

In the utter silence, I seem to have grown accustomed to facing this empty little house alone. The road ahead is long—I’m not curious about what lies further down. I simply focus on what’s before me, then lose myself in books. That’s my dull life. Yes, I like using the word “dull.”

I bought several books yesterday; they arrived today. They’re by Simone Weil. She’s a subdued presence—the first time she’s come to dwell on my bookshelf.

I haven’t given up on the idea of a cat. One day, I will have one! I’ve already picked out a name: Hegel.

I am thinking of two lines by Char:

I love that which dazzles me and then deepens the obscurity within me.

We can only live in half-openness, precisely on the bewildering borderline between light and dark.

Just now, I saw an elderly lady opening her wallet and counting money. It reminded me of a scene from three years ago: an old man in his eighties or nineties went to the bank to collect his pension. He held a thin stack of banknotes, sat down, smoothed them one by one, neatly stacked them, opened an envelope folded from newspaper, carefully slid them inside, and then placed it into a plastic bag. What moved me was not so much the neatness, but his slow, deliberate movements—as if he had entered into a kind of sacred pact, almost like an act of faith, with those bills.

I would rather walk the tightrope than tread on the creaky wooden plank. Perhaps I know too well what kind of monster lurks beneath the gaps, what fate awaits the plank—rot away, decay until it falls apart. The tightrope, on the other hand, carries only one risk: the chance of slipping and falling. Just like the little girl encountered: she was destined to step forward, yet had to choose the plank. Laure said, Will I ever be able to leave a trace of will in the real! As soon as I am no longer alone, I am no longer myself, what to do? Will I always have this immense faculty to suffer things without changing them? 

Burn myself out and immerse wholeheartedly in life but burning yet whole. It should end here in Nietzsche: Everything that appears necessary when viewed from above and from the perspective of a general economy also serves the self. One should not only endure it—one should love it.

Valley of Mexico

“Day stretches its transparent body. Light tied to the sunstone strikes me with its invisible great hammer. I am but a pause between two tremors: a living point where two glances that ignore each other meet within me, sharp and calm. Has it allied? I am pure space, a site. Through my body, I see my other body. The stone gives off light. The sun tears out my eyes. Two stars comb their red feathers in my empty sockets. Splendor, the whirl of wings and a fierce sharp beak. Now, my eyes sing. Look into their song, leap into the blaze.”

—Octavio Paz

You envelop me in caresses as ivy envelops a melancholy wall. —Pablo Neruda

Reboots: How One Millennial's Childhood is Revived Over and Over

Now, we all have TV shows or movies that really define our childhood. I know I do. And when we reach that final episode, as the credits roll, we get this hollow feeling in our chest and think to ourselves that this is it; it's over. Now what? But then the next thing you know, you see an announcement of a new show with a familiar title. You think that the show you thought done forever was going to continue on after all. But then you see the show starting over from the beginning and it feels so different from what you've seen before. That is because, my friend, the show was rebooted.

First, as always, let's start with the "what". A reboot, for this article, is basically a remake or restart of a TV show or movie, but nearly if not completely changed from the original. And I have seen plenty of them while growing up. I'm still seeing them today.

One good example is the Spider-Man series. There are plenty of different versions of the TV cartoon about everyone's favorite web slinger,  first created by the one, only, the legendary Stan Lee. The ones I'm most familiar with are the animated series from the 1990s which I saw sometimes as a wee lad and Disney's Ultimate Spider-Man in the early to late 2010s during my college years because, well, I never outgrew cartoons yet. The rest either ended before I was even born yet, fell under my radar for whatever reason, or were released when my cartoon crave started to fade. At present, there are ten different retellings of the popular,  arachnid-themed superhero that I know of from a little Googling.

The web slinger's even got a live-action movie series that's been revived two times so far. In all, three different actors played the titular character. As a kid, I've seen actor Tobey Maguire don the costume (he was the first). Then Andrew Garfield showed up in the role. Tom Holland's the current live-action Spider-Man, and I am enjoying his run as the character.

Another good example of a reboot from my childhood: The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, who have been the center of five different TV series. The first time I saw New York's shelled defenders from the sewers, it was around the beginning of the millennium on a channel host to 4kids Entertainment shows. I can't say I was a fan of it, no offense to anyone who is a fan. It just wasn't my cup of tea. Personally, I enjoyed the Nickelodeon's version (the first one) more. Nickelodeon, a TV channel for kids, also made another reboot of the turtles brothers' adventures, but I had already moved on from cartoons by then. 

The turtles also got the live action treatment. The first in the early 1990s and rebooted in the mid 2010s. 

Transformers. Everyone knows about the Autobots, a band of heroic robotic aliens from the planet of Cybertron with the power to transform into all sorts of cars, planes and ships. My earliest memories of the Cybertronians was of them as robot animals. I also vaguely remember when they got the Japanese touch. But the version I know best is the one that saw the return of actor, Peter Cullen taking back the reigns as the voice of arguably the greatest transforming robot in the history of transforming robots, Optimus Prime. That version of the Autobots' adventures was known as "Transformers Prime", and its sequel, "Transformers: Robots in Disguise". At the same time, they started getting the live action treatment too. Since then, there have been plenty more animated reboots, each different from the last.

Side note: I don't care what you say about cartoons or movies based on cartoons, but a speech by Peter Cullen's Optimus Prime, with that voice . . . nothing short of AWE-INSPIRING. The man's not just talented, he's got heart poured into his work. He really sets the bar high for voice actors everywhere. Anyway, back to the topic.

When talking about cartoons that keep getting rebooted, one cartoon that should never, ever be left out is, of course, (Drum roll please) . . . Batman. That's right. The caped crusader. I have seen quite a few different versions of the caped crusader while growing up. And new ones are showing up even now when I'm an adult. 

Batman first entered my life in the '90s in his DC Animated Universe version. As a kid, I couldn't quite enjoy the dark, brooding stories, so I rarely watched it. However, I quite enjoyed the next version in the early 2000s in "The Batman". The one that came after, "The Brave and the Bold" was my most favorite.

And it's not just cartoons. Like Spider-Man, Batman's also got quite a few live-action iterations too. I've glimpsed the great Adam West's take on the character when a TV channel decided to bring his show back for the day's audience. I soaked in the movies where each Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer and George Clooney got a chance to play the billionaire vigilante. And I've seen all three of Christian Bale's take on the character. But after that, my priorities shifted and I haven't gotten around to seeing the versions of Batman that came after.

Now this is just the tip of the ice berg. There are so many cartoon shows, cartoon characters, stories from my childhood of TV and the Big Screen that have been rebooted over and over. I cannot possibly list them all for fear of making this post too long and getting readers to quit halfway. So, instead, I'll conclude it here:

So many cartoons and fictional characters entered my life when I was a kid. And most of them stuck around to today when I got facial hair, with new looks, new lives and new stories, living life differently from what I remembered watching growing up. Nowadays, I don't watch as many cartoons as I used to, if at all. I'm a grown up now, and with that comes a lot more important stuff to occupy myself with. But perhaps, when there's truly nothing else to do, I'll sit back, relax and see what new version of my childhood's companions' been cooked up this time while surely sure that they'll still be around when my hair's turned white.

Ghost Hunting As I Know It

 Hey, everyone!

It's Vic the Millennial with a new article for you.

Last time, I shared with you some knowledge about scams and scammers. I might write more articles on the topic later. But this time, we're going to explore an entirely unrelated topic: Ghost Hunting. Or more commonly known as these days, Paranormal Investigating. 

When I say this blog is covering a variety of topics, I mean it.

Let’s start with what is paranormal investigating. As the name suggests, it is the act of investigating the paranormal in pursuit of proof of its existence. Paranormal investigators go out of their way to explore the whole world over to collect evidence of ghosts, spirits, supernatural powers, cryptids (animals considered to be myth, nonexistent or never fully recognized as existed) and extraterrestrials (aliens from Outer Space). 

The act of finding proof of ghosts, in particular, has been an interest of mine for over a decade, which is why it's the focus of this article. But, disclaimer, I've never actually hunted ghosts before. I only watch documentaries of ghost hunting on TV and YouTube.

So, how do paranormal investigators find, or try to find, proof of ghosts? Why, through the use of equipment and tools. And there are many different kinds.

Each paranormal investigator is different and have their own way of doing things. But the one piece of equipment that absolutely every last one of them will use is . . . the video camera. Especially ones with night vision. Most paranormal investigations take place at night with the lights off, so they need cameras with night vision that can see (and more importantly record) what is going on.

But video cameras aren't the only cameras that paranormal investigators use. There is also a nifty little thing called the thermal camera. As the name suggests, it is a camera that sees things based on their temperature. I'm sure you've all seen movies where there's one guy using special goggles that sees everything in red or orange based on heat signature. Same thing, only it's real application. To paranormal investigators, something extremely cold, but moving around like a living thing, could possibly be a ghost. Same if they find unexplainable human shapes.

There is also something called the Structured Light Sensor camera, or SLS for short. The SLS was originally used in gaming systems to track the movement of players for games that, well, get players moving. Its ability to map human shapes make it an appealing tool for paranormal investigators because, if a human shape gets mapped where there are no humans, chances are, the camera's spot a ghost.

Digital recorders. The classic ghost hunting tool. Paranormal investigators claim that digital recorders can hear things that our own ears naturally can't. So they use digital recorders in the hopes of capturing the voices of the dead. But digital recorders aren't the only things that can potentially capture spirit voices. Video cameras can also capture voices if their microphones are sensitive enough or the mysterious, disembodied voices are loud enough. There are also plenty of other tools with powerful and sensitive microphones these days that also get used in place of the digital recorder. 

Next is the Spirit Box. There are plenty of devices called by that name. But the original, that I know of, is a device that scans through radio frequencies at a rapid and constant rate. The thought is that the device would pick up the voices of the dead through the radio and let us hear them through speakers or earphones. 

Snippets of radio broadcast do come through, but depending on how fast the Spirit Box constantly switches channels, full words or phrases should be impossible. So if full words or phrases do come out, same voice over multiple sweeps, then it might be a ghost. Even more so if the words coming out of the radio are relevant to any questions you ask or to the place you are investigating. Allegedly, this allows you to have a conversation with spirits in real time.

Now, we move on to another common piece of ghost hunting gear: the E.M.F. detector. E.M.F. stands for Electro-Magnetic Field. Theory goes that ghosts emit E.M.F. or can affect it. High E.M.F. could be a sign that a ghost is around, but they could also be a sign that you got an electric problem going on that you should get checked out ASAP. Prominent ghost hunters with TV shows have mentioned that high E.M.F. can come from faulty wiring or tech and cause headaches, hallucinations, nausea and other things most people would rather not deal with.

Lots of ghost hunters on TV and YouTube also use a tool called the REM Pod. This tool creates its own E.M.F. bubble around itself like an invisible force field. Whatever breaks that field will sound an alarm. Basically, if it starts making noise while absolutely nothing visible is touching it, then there might be a spirit playing around with it.

Variations of the REM Pod include the Dead Bell, which works the same way, but looks like those vintage bells you see in old timey hotels. Another is the MEL Meter which can also measure E.M.F. and temperature. 

The E.M.F. detector, the REM Pod and its variations have been used not only to detect ghosts but also to communicate with them as well. How? Things like "tap once for yes, two for know", "tap as many times as how many . . ." Get the idea now?

And then we have motion detectors that, well, detect motion. If it detects something moving in front of it, but that something is invisible, then it might have detected a ghost. Paranormal investigators also use motion detectors the same way as the E.M.F. tools to talk with the dead.

Here's a surprising tool of the ghost hunting trade: flashlights. Plain and simple flashlights. The kind that you twist right or left to turn on and off, that you can find in any retail store. If ghosts are powerful enough to move things around, they can turn on or off a flashlight to let people know they're there. Just another way to do some simple question and answer sessions like with the tools mentioned above.

Some ghost hunters also like to use tools like the Ovilus, a box that spits out words based on things detected in the environment like E.M.F., temperature, etc. There are other tools with different names that work pretty much the same way. 

And finally, we have . . . the smartphone. Yes, the smartphone. A video recorder, photo camera and voice recorder all rolled into one. But apart from those obvious features, there are also a multitude of apps specifically made and advertised for ghost hunting. Many of these apps call themselves Spirit Boxes, but they're more like Oviluses or other random word generating tools.

Now, some paranormal investigators swear by these smartphone apps, the Ovilus and its brothers. But other investigators find them all sus and avoid using them entirely.

Evidence of the paranormal, in general, is something to be taken with a grain of salt, even if it looks genuinely unexplainable otherwise. Especially when shared in documentaries on TV or YouTube, or other streaming sites. That's just the nature of the industry. But I think some, if not all, paranormal investigators and the evidence they show are genuine. 

Still, to each their own. Some people will believe in ghosts and the evidence shared on the internet. Other people will think it's all baloney. The choice, dear readers, is yours.

Scams: An Article

Hey, everyone.

So, for my first article, I wanted to write about something that is near, but not dear, to my heart. That's right. You guessed it. The topic this time is on scams.

What is a scam, you might ask? Well, generally speaking, a scam is a crime where a criminal (often called a "scammer") steals money by using flat-out lies, tricks or deceit. The scammer will normally pretend to be someone they're not, gain the trust of their victims through various forms of mental manipulation, and get their victims to either send money to them or expose personal information which could then be used for illegal financial gain. Billions of dollars are lost every year because of scams. 

Scammers can be considered some of the most heinous, evil villains on the planet. They can even be considered murderers. No, some ARE flat-out murderers. Why? Because unfortunately, their actions have driven innocent people to such despair to the point of deciding to forfeit their lives. This is not a possibility. It is a historic fact that a simple internet search can verify. That is the extent to the damage that they can cause. 

There are as many different kinds of scams as there are stars in the sky. Scammers will pretend to be all sorts of real people or companies. There are scammers who pretend to work for Amazon, PayPal, or Microsoft to name but a few. Many scammers pretend to be police officers or members of the government to get victims to send them money or give away personal information that can be used to steal the money. Some even pretend to be possible lovers or online blind dates.

Scammers find victims through advertisements online, sending out emails with fake messages, even calling or texting people on the phone at random.

How exactly scammers get their potential victims' email or phone numbers is hard to say. What can be said, however, is that every single person on the planet probably got their information exposed or leaked. Lots of famous big companies and international corporations have had their systems hacked which exposed millions and millions of customer information to the whole wide world. Also, if you subscribe to anything, you put your information in the hands of data brokers, people who'll sell or trade that information to other people or companies to make a profit.

Scammers are also on social media and will use that too to find targets and potential victims. Going back to scammers pretending to be potential lovers, girlfriend/boyfriend, they can be found in all sorts of famous online matchmaking websites.

So, basically, it's not hard for scammers to find a target. And they can do it from the comfort and safety of their own homes in another country where the risk of consequences for their crimes is very, very low.

So how do you spot a scam or a scammer? How do you keep yourselves safe from them?

Well, I have my own personal recommendations on how to stay safe from scammers. Here's what I'd do:

If you get an email, text message or phone call from a company you know about a problem or question, don't answer their questions or follow their instructions right away. Instead, FIRST, contact the company using phone numbers, email addresses or websites you already know are legit and tell them what is going on. Better yet, if can, go to a branch store or office and speak to a worker face to face for guarantee no tricks.

An actual worker will know if the message or call you got is real or not and even help you handle the problem if it turns out to be real. This is especially true for most banks.

If you get a call or text from a complete stranger in what seems to be a case of wrong number, it's okay to let them know, but don't do or say anything that could give away your info. Assume the person on the other side might be a trickster with Sherlock Holmes level detective power. Use a fake name and pretend to represent a company with ties to government or law enforcement. If the stranger turns out to be a scammer, they're likely to pull a disappearing act and go away without a peep.

One thing to always remember: if anyone tells you to lie to your bank about the reason you need to take out money or send it to someone, CUT TIES WITH THEM IMMEDIATELY. THEY ARE SCAMMERS TRYING TO STEAL YOUR MONEY. NO LEGIT MEMBER OF A LEGIT COMPANY, ORGANIZATION, LAW ENFORCEMENT OR FEDERAL AGENCY WOULD EVER TELL PEOPLE TO LIE TO THE BANKER OR TELLER TO THEIR FACE LITERALLY WHEN DOING AN IN-PERSON TRANSACTION IN THE BANK.

Another thing to remember: if someone on the phone claiming to work for the government or law enforcement tell you the culprit of a crime you’re involved in is a worker at the bank, THEY ARE LYING SCAMMERS. HANG UP! DON’T EVER SPEAK TO THEM AGAIN! LEGIT POLICE OR GOVERNMENT AGENTS NEVER GIVE THAT SORT OF INFORMATION AWAY. IT WOULD COMPROMISE THE INVESTIGATION. ANY CRIME DRAMA CAN TELL YOU THAT! LEGIT POLICE OR GOVERNMENT AGENTS WOULD NEVER TRY TO CONVINCE PEOPLE THE BANK IS THE ENEMY! A CUSTOMER SERVICE OR FRAUD DEPARTMENT REP FROM WHATEVER COMPANY CERTAINLY AIN’T GOT ANY BUSINESS TELLING YOU THE BANK’S FULL OF CRIMINALS TRYING TO STEAL YOUR MONEY.

One more thing: COPS AND FEDS DO NOT NEED TO KNOW YOUR DEBIT, CREDIT CARD OR BANK ACCOUNT NUMBERS. IF THEY ASK, THEY AIN’T COPS OR FEDS. THEY’RE SCAMMERS.

Finally, always educate yourselves about scams. You can learn a lot by talking to a worker at a bank. Or going on YouTube and watch scambaiting videos, which can be highly educational. I recommend the likes of Kitboga and Scammer Payback. 

Don't worry, they are not endorsing this article and blog. They don't even know I exist. Their videos are just my own recommendations to watch.

That's it for this first article by this millennial. If you got something to say, let me know in the comments. If you like my article, consider treating me to some coffee.

Stay safe. Don't get scammed. And happy reading y'all!

The Very First Post: Intro

 Greetings, everyone.

Allow me to introduce myself and tell you all what this blog is about. This is Vic, the Millennial. And I have decided to make a blog to share with the world all the stuff I've learned from school or things I've read, heard and watched. Maybe even things I've learned from first-hand experience. There'll be essays covering a variety of topics based off of my memories and experiences.

My motivation? Mostly as an outlet for myself and my desire to share tidbits of wisdom. Maybe even earn a little bit of moolah along the way.

Speaking of moolah, if you like what I share, how about some coffee? You can treat me by visiting my Ko-Fi page: https://ko-fi.com/victhemillennial .

I can't promise to post something every single week, but I'll definitely be churning out as many essays and articles as I can. Hope you find them all worthwhile and learn a little something.

Happy reading, everyone.