My life at the hole

It´s rainy out here, very dull and tranquile. But wait, Is that a speck of light I see? Oh, it´s our only football court´s pole illuminating my day. No wonder I could stare at the light for ours without getting long-term damage in my vision. It´s all very small in here, very petite and close. It seems that when I take a step, only one, I can stomp over the neighbor, squash the pool with my foot, smash the greasy restaurant at the south, and at the same time, trip over our railroad. Nevertheless, I´m happy to be part of this camp, this hole.

Today, I feel somewhat orphan to the land that raised me; La Guajira. It´s maybe because I want to travel away from here, so bad, I can almost taste it. It´s not that I´m bored of the monotonous place (But I am), it´s just that I find myself missing the city, missing the polluted, crisp and warm air hitting my face, missing the smell of chicken in every corner, missing the tall buildings surrounding me, missing the loudness of it all, so harmonious, so delightful. Believe it or not, as gross and loathing as that sounds, it´s every small-town girl´s dream. But, thinking it through, I don´t think I´m about to persecute THAT dream.

What is really going on, what has me intrigued and anxious and so excited, desperate to get a VISA, is the fact that I´m going to Germany. It´s actually a long story, but, since I´m so generous with this blog, I´ll make it brief and substantial.

It all started when I was 5. I´ve always wanted to go abroad since I was that young, tired of hearing of violence and terror in my country (Colombia.) Don´t take it the wrong way, it´s not that Colombia is a complete nightmare, or that it´s violent and infested with terror. At least not now. Anyway, I wanted to go out of there so bad, I made my parents promise me to get me out of there as soon as they could, at least for one month. Surprise! It never came true. Now, when I was 12, I was sure they could send me there, and this time, I made them a pinky-swear. Yeah, I was that innocent. Now, I´m almost 15, and this time I have a really nice advantage. My sister, to you bloggers, Nana, lives in Germany, and I want to see her so horribly bad and as soon as possible, and she feels the same way. We started being close since when I was 10, because of reasons you may not ask for. Now, adding more suspense, I´ve been told by my parents that I can definitely go to Germany (Initially, it was USA but seeing that my sister lives in Germany, it would be a tad...pointless and stupid. I´d totally get lost at my first visit to Times square) I am now waiting this time I can really breathe German air, and enjoy the 2 months I´ve been promised.

I long my sister very much and I hope to see her soon. Meanwhile, I have created this blog, only for personal purposes, which include academic articles and aid, and journal entries such as this one. I´ve seen how people infest the internet with tedious journal entries, which I consider interesting only when the person redacting them is a celebrity, a close friend or a very good writer. Otherwise, I think of journal entries as a waste of creativity and toilet time, since one would take wise advantage of that time probably defecating, or making a noodle necklace piece. As you must percieve, I´m fond to real writing, which I consider philosophizing, academic essays and Newspaper articles, with the casual and good written journal entry, of course.

I must say, the only journal entry I´ve read and thought of as an excellent memoir is Elizabeth Gilbert´s Eat, pray, love.

Now, that we are on that subject, I must point out that:

It was not at all bad. But again, reading all of the comments and scrolling down [Goodreads.com], getting more furious with some of the comments, I realize and understand we all have different opinions, interests and expectations. Some really thought this book was the Holy bible and that it would vanquish all of their problems, but some were able to enjoy the book for what it really was; a very long canvas of experiences. I was really tempted to go to Italy, India and Indonesia, and I could actually reccommend the book without puking, hating and raging in envy. People have to understand that books are only useful and nurturing for the mind, not for society and our poor lives. Though it can be a little self-centered, it also teaches us in some way, that we don´t have to travel all over the world as she did (can´t deny it would be nice to do so), only to find hapiness. We can find hapiness in the simplest things, and maybe all we need is to open our doors to it. And windows and every slot we can. Readers should understand that, and only that.

To those who didn´t like it, well don´t read it, good for you. But stop building a shield of puke and hate and aboherrence to such a wonderful book that many who read your comments may actually like. Also, I advise a doctor: since when is the press and all the hype right? Care to be a little optimist, people.

Susan, said:

I'm one of the people who really enjoyed this book. Was she very self-indulgent? Yes, but I don't have a problem with that. Before I started reading the book, I knew it was a memoir about her spiritual and physical journey, and that the book was about a year of complete self-indulgence. If I didn't want to read about that, I wouldn't have read the book.

Can I travel around the world for a year, discovering myself? Heck, no. But I don't resent that she was able to do that. And I do believe she realizes how lucky she was to have the opportunity.

I enjoyed reading about her travels and her discoveries. I came away from the book with a feel-good mood and an appreciation for her journey. There were parts of the book that didn't appeal to me as much as other parts, but that is true with about anything I read. Perhaps I liked this book more than some because I read it before I read all the hype about it.

I don't consider this book my "Bible" and didn't expect it to change my life, but I did enjoy it, and wondered about what I would do had I been in her situation. I agree with one of the earlier posters that some of the comments are mean-spirited. If nothing else, most people who read the book come away with a strong opinion of it, on one side or the other, and that makes for some interesting discussions.

I haven't seen the movie so have no comments about it.

Hedda said:

This book should be used to equalize unstable tables.

This she said after creating the discussion board and naming it Puke, hate, rage. Quite offensive if you ask me. Mean-spirited, may I say. I´m starting to hate her. (By the way, I invite you to http://www.goodreads.com to get involved in this one. Really, it´s in need of people who value writing and effortless life analysing. To make it short, if you value life, you´ll go there as soon as you´re done here)

As you can see, this book is very discussed, hated and loved, and very interesting to read and analyse. I´m not very sure about publicly accepting the profoung affection I have towards it, but I think Hedda is too busy equalizing unstable tables, and that should pay enough, by the way. So, that being said, I publicly declare I admire how Gilbert tells her experience and how she invites me to explore myself (don´t search for double meaning, please, since it may be true in the book) and my interior to find my spirituality and my significance and task in my life. I´ve been touched by her tales and, though a little envious of all her traveling, am very much glad I read the paperback. Now, there´s the film to go, which I´m sure I cannot compare to the book, but I´ll give it a chance, for the sake of Roberts and her tumbling pocket.

I´m still wondering, why are the mayority of the readers of this book females? Men can explore themselves too, Big bird once told me. (Don´t laugh too much).

By the way, I love books (If it wasn´t enough with the comment above). I´ve been reading Don Quijote de la Mancha, a.k.a The crazy´s bible, slaughterhouse five, Looking for history, and shalimar the clown, a very unique cluster of books I´m am proud to say are very elevated and difficult to digest, one could say, as digestible as a bowl of chilli con carne at 2:00 am. Due to my relatively short age, I´d like to digest them as a bag of peanuts my grandma eats, low carb and low fat (if any can be decreased).

This concludes my resume of the day, I hope is an introduction to what could become months of journalistic vagueness. Your free to leave or to return (Choose WISELY) and regards to you all, fellow bloggers.

PS: For the sake of maintaining my blog interesting and focalized, I´ll only submit journal entries Sundays. You can thank me later.