I am so mad at myself. I somehow manage to brush off every opportunity at bettering myself. There are kids out there younger than me making a real difference in this world. And the worst part is, I don’t have either the strength to do anything about it or the tears to feel bad about it. I am shameless. It’s almost as if these kids were born with those skills, almost as if college was just one more stepping stone but they’ve got it all figured out. And I’ve been in denial, all this time I have somehow convinced myself I would be alright no matter what, that it’d be ok, that somehow, one way or the other, I would be famous, successful. But the truth is, I am a failure.
Own only what you can carry with you; know language, know countries, know people. Let your memory be your travel bag. Use your memory! Use your memory! It is those bitter seeds alone which might sprout and grow someday.
-Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, “The Gulag Archipielago”
Is not knowing what to do really that wrong? Am I even called to do something big with my life anyway? I feel like my hands are so able, so capable of doing anything, if only I could teach them.
I am learning to grow out of my shell. I am also learning life is not as clear as I hoped it’d be when it comes to love.
I find myself craving it more and more. Sometimes I torture myself by thinking I need to be more mature in order to love someone and be loved back. Other times I tell myself I am ok with being my own, and that self-love matters above all. I have even considered the possibility of being asexual or aromantic, or a combination of the two if that’s even possible. And the list of failed attempts grows on, failed seeds of love that withered before they were put to good soil. Maybe I am bad earth. And I know I’m not the only one when it comes to heartbreaks (if you could call them that, my heart is seldom touched), but in the end it all goes back to the same thing: I long for love I’ve never had.
But it’s myself, I am my own pressure, I am my own fear. Have I ignored every attempt from every man that’s ever been interested in me? In my attempt at finding perfect romance, have I overlooked reality?
I can feel my body changing, growing older, a time-bomb ticking. I don’t want to be 30 years old and finally finding love. Of course love is enough and it’s wonderful, but then what is the point of my youth? I’m in my prime and I want to share that with somebody. I want to try every single coffee house this city has to offer holding hands with someone. I want to push the boundaries of kissing until it’s morally questionable, I want to be so drunk in love with someone the idea of spending time alone, sitting here writing this sad longing, feels like nothing more than a very dull dream.
So today classes started. And the way I pictured things would be was, as usual, very far from reality. I thought I’d go to a full class, with a teacher I’d never seen before. I was wrong. I thought I’d see some friends and catch up or take a picture. I was wrong. I wished class would end early and I’d go have breakfast at Les Mille Delicies. I’d be at ease, happy. Maybe even I’d see Nora, and she’d smile at me. Maybe Julieta would join me at breakfast.
But none of those things happened, and though I’m not disappointed, it did throw off my cool, I suppose. First familiar face I saw was Ronnie. As fate would have it, he was talking to none other than Gaby, the manic pixie dreamgirl of his dreams, who through his eyes is a flawless creature, but through mine is just another dead-eyed hipster who worked very hard on her image and probably still practices her Amelie stare in the mirror. I am obviously not a big fan of her, especially because every time Ronnie is working really hard on impressing a girl, he completely forgets I exist and even begins to avoid me.
It probably sounds like I’m in love with him or something, but our friendship dynamic works in strange ways: I mostly ignore him and smile and drive him to coffee shops, he listens to all my emotional troubles. He plasters our social networks with our selfies, I give him the ocassional hug. He obsesses, I keep our distance.
My first class turned out to be made up of three students (myself included), and an old teacher I’d had before and who may or may not be senile, as he rambled on and on about politics and his professional achievements of yore in between accounting info (which was supposed to be the topic to be covered, our class is Accounting). I was the first one to arrive in class, thought I myself was 15 minutes late. It was almost unbearable. Later Ronnie showed up and we chatted through the window, and not once did he ask me about the convention, or the MARCO visits, or if I was finally over Landeros. None of the things he knew I am bursting to share with him. Instead he updated me on his crush, and by then I’d had enough and interrupted him, instead bragging about Julieta and how much I admire her work experience. He was fascinated. He now wants to meet her and is looking forward to tagging along if I ever get together with her.
So now here I am at Les Mille Delicies, and even though it’s no longer morning and I didn’t have breakfast here as planned, I still came. In fact, I was so indecisive about coming that I drove faster and stormed into the shop, demanding a drink, any drink, that could help my thirst. The guy in charge (very handsome, by the way) suggested a vanilla iced coffee and I took that as a sign, so here I am, spilling my unconformities onto paper in a lovely place, listening to lovely music (currently playing “Breezeblocks”, though before they’d put “Piano Man”, “How Great Thou Art”, and “I Won’t Give Up”).
(Update: talked to cute shop guy, he picks the music)
So anywho, all of yesterday I thought about goals I want to set for myself, at least for this semester, as it’s my last one and it’s therefore important for me to feel like I’m closing a cycle, a chapter here. From then on it’s uncharted territory, and I must plan it well.
I suppose my very first goal is to speak my mind in front of others. I’ve discussed it before, it’s easy for me to diminish myself and make room for others, when really, all along I should’ve been building my podium and declare, “Here I am, this is what I think too”.
(Update: cute guy made me an iced mocha, says it’s on the house)
So yes, I will now be making a conscious effort to not take other people’s opinions before mine, and if they’re overstepping a line, to make them take that step back and leave me be if necessary.
That’s more of an emotional goal. Obviously I need to do more:
Find prácticas profesionales.
Keep up with the graduation paperwork for the degree.
Research on realistic master’s degrees abroad.
In that order. None seems easy but I have got to start moving, do things, obtain fulfillment and independence and not burden my parents anymore. I am of age, I could start helping them now.
I do not know in which direction I’m going, not truly. At this point in time I still doubt my capability, my efficiency, my brain power, and my drive. Will I succeed? I don’t know. Will I ever know my true calling, if such a thing exists? I don’t know.
Do I have potential? I don’t know. So we’ll see how it goes this semester, the key to the door of my future (or at least it feels that way right now. Maybe in 10 years I will feel silly for being so anxious right now. Only time will tell).
(Update: thanked cute shop guy for the coffee, caught him busy, didn’t stay)
I am a backwards thinker. My humor is weird and most people don’t understand my jokes or references, and no, that doesn’t make me “quirky” or “different in a good way”. It makes me lonely. There’s nothing unique about that, or at least it doesn’t feel that way. I hate having to watch some movies on my own just because there’s no one close to me who could enjoy it with me.
On a different note, it feels weird to write after not doing so for a while. My hand is shaking, my letters aren’t forming right. My wrist tires. I hate feeling that weakness, writing is my strength, even if my only topic is myself and my jumbled thoughts. Somehow I can never run out of material on that subject. I suppose I am my own muse, the only person that can understand and not judge me.
I think of all the projects I’ve dropped. All the short films and the writings and the drawings and the videos and the blogs, all for the sake of saving face, for being too embarrassed to fail and, even worse, exposing my strange, inadequate self to others,and all that just to fail. Just no. And yet, this part of me desires that, it wants to fail, crash and burn and see what happens, and not give a damn about the bystanders because they don’t care anyway, I’m just a speck of dust in their outlook of life; the family members, the three friends I have, the acquaintances from the past. Everyone’s busy doing their own thing anyway. And see, here’s the thing, here’s what I really want:
I want to live in a city. Away from the family. I want to be fulfilled. I am afraid of saying it so I’ll just whisper it: I think I want to own a café. And not just sell cupcakes and brownies and the like. No, I will work with my hands. feels the strain in my muscles and take on the concept of a panadería- traditional stuff, homey stuff, with a coffee to remind others of home, of safety, comfort. I want to learn about coffee beans, how they’re toasted and brewed. Coffee is a smell I can never tire of.
And aaah I know this isn’t marketing. I also know this could only happen later on, and with a partner (maybe a spouse?), since I wouldn’t like it to happen here anyway. I don’t like the idea of this all developing in Mont—–. I’ve seen the shops and bakeries, it could happen but I don’t want to chain myself to this place. No, it needs to be somewhere that rains. Some place beautiful. And since we’re already dreaming, let’s say… Portland, Oregon. It’s perfect.
And about short films and films in general, it seems like I’ve lost my passion. I used to watch them like they were life, feel them in me like air. I didn’t need to relate to anyone, a good movie was enough to make me feel understood. Oh my gosh, I want that power back. Where did I go wrong? I joined Séptima F because it felt like my big break, like a chance to finally express to the world how much I adore films, and meet like-minded people and maybe make a friend. Instead, I ended up with an unrequited crush and the crippling fear that even in something I enjoy there’s also competition and jealousy. And now, I feel like there’s nothing to say.
And actually, you know what, I have a problem. How is it that I feel, that I’ve convinced myself, that I have nothing to say? Who tells me that?! It makes my blood boil and also feel powerless. When did this happen? I have spent my entire life making myself small and try to not occupy any space for others to fit in. What the hell? Where am I, where is room for me? I demand my own podium. I want admirers, and jealousy, and not climbing to the top but yes a clean, clear space of my own to feel safe, heard, whole.
It’s even come to this: whenever I’m asked for my opinion, or even a description of something, I can’t seem to find my words. I’m telling you, I’m backwards. My brain is empty and I’m only ever eloquent on paper. Feelings are all I got. I can’t even make eye contact with anyone (which worries me because I don’t know if that’s physical or psychological and I’m afraid of asking, but also I’m so self-aware of it I’m afraid it’ll never go away).
So what do I do? How do I change? I’ve already got the physical part down: I remember this being a huge self-esteem issue for me a few years ago. Now I can live with the reflection in the mirror. I’m learning to love my body, and become willing to take care of it. I no longer feel the need to crawl out of my own skin (this is in no way saying I’m 100% good to go. God knows I have days I’d rather stay in bed and avoid reflective surfaces). So that’s been mended for now.
Fun fact: when I am overwhelmed and hurt by people who don’t give a hoot about me and I’m purposely ignored by them (like the Séptima people and my entire family on my dad’s side), lately I’ve started to do this thing where in my head I start screaming “Fuck youuuuu!!!” and then individually point out at everyone and go “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you too, and especially fuck you too buddy!”. And then I’ll sing (this also in my head of course) “Fuck you” by Lilly Allen. It’s my stress relief, and the only way I can cope with things. And to be honest, I am so close to doing this in real life it’s getting dangerous. That’s how done I am with this situation, this constant putting up with people who already behave like I am not even there, and it drives me crazy, it drives me off the wall. I feel rejection so very strongly, perhaps it’s just me overreacting but also, dang, sometimes they don’t even pretend. Sometimes literally not one of them talks to me. This is true for both parties mentioned above, where the groups are always big. And alright, maybe it is just me. But even by common courtesy, these people are failing terribly at being cordial and at least acknowledge my presence. Come on, give this introvert a break. And I know I sound so bitter, and I am a bit, but also I’m kind of done, I’ve tolerated being ignored and even questioned myself for them. All that has done for me is diminishing myself. I’ve shut down my voice always, all the time, I can’t even hear myself anymore. And isn’t that sad? Isn’t that regrettable?
Hello! My real name isn’t Emillu, but we will leave it at that.
This is my new blog, meant for my journal pages, words and stories I have accumulated and I’ve always felt the curiosity of showing them to someone who could understand and relate to them. I hope you do.
I would love to hear back from you, if you’re reading this and feel a bit less alone from it, please let me know. I want to believe that just because I haven’t met someone where I live that can explain these feelings for me, it doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
I will leave the names and places untouched. I have no desire of showing this blog to people I see everyday, who may or may not be a part of my journal entries. I find it unlikely that you, dear reader, may want to know more about the subjects of the posts, but if you do, I wouldn’t mind explaining them.
So that’s about it! It’s very nice to meet you all!
With love,
Emillu
PS. I am still learning how to add music, in the meantime, I leave this song with you.
dreamlessons 