Monday, December 1, 2014

Memories


Writing is incredibly hard for me, it takes me hours sometimes to come up with the right words let alone making sure there is structure and clarity to a story.  That frustration in the process of creation can actually be translated to what life is like. Sometimes you start with an idea of where life will go, but in reality you end up in a very different place.  In the midst of doubt and insecurity about complicated matters like what will my future look like? I started thinking about my past.  I thought of my childhood, the many dreams I held high in a once innocent and uncluttered heart and the painful days that rattled my world view. Here are three memories: one of hope, one of disillusionment, and one of trauma.

Hope:hōp/ Noun

  1. 1.
    a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

When I was a little girl I was sure I would become a writer, a ballerina and an archaeologist. I worked so hard towards achieving all three, you could find me in my room making lists of books to read and generally planning ahead for the many successful careers I would carry. I would devour history books and watch Indiana Jones films over and over preparing myself for the rigors of the job ahead. I took many dance classes, set daily stretch and workout schedules, obsessed over the arch of my feet and pretended to have eating disorders-meanwhile I couldn't stop eating cake and white bread. I kept journals for many years and would force myself to write everyday, when I came to the U.S at 13 I made a promise to myself that I would stop writing in spanish because I wanted to learn the language even when I couldn't find the right words.  I had passion, drive and dedication because I was fearless having this delirious conviction that I would in fact be all three things at once.

Disillusionment: ˌdisəˈlo͞oZHənmənt/ Noun 


1.a feeling of disappointment resulting from the discovery that something is not as good as one believed it to be.


I remember the day my view of the world changed entirely. It was a moment influenced by a manga book called Mars. Yes I read manga,  alongside comic books and follow many things considered geeky, childish immature or for lack of a better word stupid. Truth is some of the most impactful images, story lines and complicated characters I come across spring from those sources, I'm constantly inspired by science fiction-but that rant for another day. Anyways Mars changed my life, it was the first time I felt angry and carried that anger with me. It is a story about young love set in a harsh reality where the main characters deal with depression, bullying, suicide and rape. Heavy subjects, which backed by a turn of personal events, led me to an awful realization where suddenly those things were in my life too and not just in the pretty pages of that gorgeous book.

Mars Book





side-note: I know that wasn't so much a memory, rather a reflection but I'm not ready to write about those specific series of events in a public forum-honestly I'm not sure I will ever be. I found this website where you can read the whole series, I highly recommend it and remember that manga is read like Japanese  from right to left. 

http://www.mangahere.co/manga/mars/



Trauma: ˈtroumə,ˈtrômə/  noun

  1. 1.
    a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.


I was about seven years old when I experienced fear for the first time. My house in Colombia was right across a small soccer field where they would hold weekend tournaments for regional teams. The field didn't have any walls around it so we could easily see the games from the front porch of my house since it was also sitting on top of a small hill elevating our view. This particular weekend must have been a final or an important game, I remember it was especially crowded. My mom sent me to get milk from a store located at the far-end of the field, I went with my best friend happy to be out of the house alone and in charge of an important task. On our way back, I noticed the players were running away from the ball, it took me a few seconds to realize what was happening when I heard the screams. I looked behind me, a short distance away there were four men dressed in black with large guns running towards the field, pointing at the crowd unloading their bullets without a clear purpose other than to cause terror. I took my friend by the hand and we ran towards my house, which I could see was being filled by the panicked families and players looking for shelter. We weren't gonna make it home, the men were right behind us and they were faster than us. Thankfully there was some construction that was just about to begin and we hid behind a wall of materials made up of cement bags and stacked bricks that were sitting on the corner of the field. After a few minutes listening for the sounds of gunshots fade in the distance, we quickly ran home and were loudly knocking on the door yelling at my mom to open reassuring her it was just us. She opened the door right away, hugged me hard and I could see behind her all the scared faces that made it to the inside of my house. Then my mom smiled with worry still in her eyes when she noticed I was still holding on to the milk so hard in my grasp I had forgotten it was there.


I finish today with a haunting quote from Mars

“The things that really shake the human soul aren't beauty or kindness. Although such things are certainly moving, those feelings don't last long. But... anger or sadness are different. They leave an undelible mark. Even after the wound heals... you can never forget the pain completely.” 
― Fuyumi SoryoMars, Volume 05

-Andy



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