Rants on lit. from Guatemala

it will all be... sad?

Music: for today, and again on line, i searched for a video. So, today it is Julieta Venegas in her “lento” (slow) It is, believe it or not, of a Latin American woman in Japan. I can assume it’s filmed in Tokyo but hey, too late to read the kanji-kana combos on the marquees. Her yellow skirt and latin earrings contrast with the flow of Japanese people.

Read: the lot… ajj… a multitude of American literature for the keys of my American literature class… I don’t think I dislike being a teacher, but the reading at 1 am gets to me sometimes.

A student of mine lent me a book called “a walk to remember” if I, in fact, remember the title right. I will not say anything regarding my critical reading of the book, which seems to me to be unnecessary, what I will do however is tell you how I responded to the book. Which was, emotional to say the least.

As a rule, I don’t read stuff with colorful covers or if there are teens on them. Still, I wanted to read the book since my student talked highly about it. Since I started teaching the idea of getting old is catching up with me. So, I said to myself a good read of the teen kind would help me remember something lost or forgotten. In reality what I longed for was not so cryptic. It was, again, my need to feel. This, in light of my previous entries would seem out of character, but this will make since in a while…

It´s been some time since the writing occupied my time, and a lot has happened. Sincerely I don’t remember if I said this before, but I have been dumped, harassed and broke in the year 2004. Love, which I exchanged for my literary dreams failed me in a way which seemed to me impossible. It has showed me that, even what is called the strongest emotion of the human being, is so desperately fragile that it is barely worth the try. I’m dry now, completely alone and biter.

Since this bitterness was the real reason I read this book it was a good idea to mention it first. So, I started this book with all the bad attitude that was given to me after my Mexico experience. The pages seemed dull and unflattering, even by pop-culture standards. Still I wept, but why? A question for the mind of a fresher or old version of myself. The case is, I did wept. A grown man of 31 tearing up in a public bus will be enough for anybody to pity me, but do I pity me? Don’t know. Maybe the fact that the main character gives a peace of herself to a man staved my appreciation of love.

The perception that it (what ever it is) can have pulled at the strings on my heart and remind me I may not have this. Saying what was said, doesn’t mean I try to victimize my image of self. What I have come to realize is that I´m really not a good partner and never will. I have become convinced that women will have these feelings for anybody, everybody… still the pick ax and the goggles are wearing down for me.

So, I sit up at 1 reading my own words as if they were someone else’s. I want to scream but can´t. I want to cry but there is a tragedy in this thought that makes me stop. Its all well… its all well…