I long to be your friend but how can I?
I long to be your friend but how can I, if I am not friendly.
I wish to make you happy but how could I, if I am so sad myself.
I want you to stay good but how could you, when I do you so much wrong.
I try to reassure you while I’m feeling so unsure.
I try to offer guidance when I’m a castaway.
I wish to soothe your pain but I have no remedy for my own ache.
I hope that you’ll forgive me because I cannot forgive myself.
I hope you’ll comprehend: I’m utterly depressed, constantly rude, tactlessly selfish, but still…
“One year… I wish I had done more, written more, shared more. I wish I could have been more responsible, more consistent, more engaging”.
Earlier today I was looking at my clustermap (what an ego! I know) and so I happened to notice that it’s been a year since I set it up, which automatically made me realize it’s been a year since I set up my blog. “Wow!” I thought to myself “What are you going to do about it?”…
So I began to look at some old stuff, particularly my ‘About Page‘, which I wrote when I didn’t even know how to blog yet, and I thought it needed an urgent renewal. But then I thought: “Who reads the ‘About Page‘ anyway?” so I decided to share what I came up with:
How it all started.
When I first started my Advanced Writing Course in the university I was prepared for almost anything, I knew I was about to change the way I wrote and learn so much more about writing in English, I was prepared to shake my foundations and change my perspectives. But little did I know that this blog would become such an essential tool in doing so.
It was a challenging surprise! And as it turns out I have enjoyed writing and sharing in my very own blog – (She says proudly) -. I couldn’t be more grateful with my teacher and my mentor for putting me in the right direction and for providing me with such good tools to become a better writer.
And though it’s been a long road since then and ( I have to admit) I’ve been way too inconsistent, I still have the same desire. I want to be better, and I’ll never stop fighting (even if I have to fight myself).
A Familiar Face
One of the things about studying at a language department is that you often run into people you haven’t seen in a while: as it turns out it’s not always a pleasant surprise. This was one of those days.
As I turned to the right after going up the stairs, I intended to take a casual look around, but I was cut off halfway, I caught a glimpse of the strangely familiar face, and before I could recognize the long memorized features, my body betrayed my mind. I stiffened, every muscle in my body tensed, and then absolutely involuntarily I took a step backwards. I looked up again warily, I saw her now, and I felt relieved when I recognized her and I understood my first reaction. Relief that lasted for about a fraction of a second because the anger, the rage, the fury that I felt for the next minute was indescribable. It all just came back to me: the blasphemy, the banter, and the ridicule, the almost daily threats of violence, the one time she got to me…
I stared at her face now, blatantly. She noticed. She looked at me curiously and smiled tentatively. Well I was certainly not expecting that! She waited expectantly now. Was she crazy? Had she honestly forgotten? “Maybe bullies only have a short term memory” I thought to myself, “or they have no conscience.” I took three steps forward, (involuntarily again), my heart was exhilarated; pumping with sanguine anticipation, in the tip of my mouth I could savor the sweet taste of vengeance. My fists clenched, but not out of fear anymore but out of power and control, they searched for retribution. And then I woke up from my daydream.
What was I going to do! I had to quarry with myself for the next few seconds. “It was a long time ago” I said to myself, ”You’ve both grown up now, it’s different” “ You cannot take revenge, What could you possibly do? … I stood there thinking… “She’s probably a nice person now” –Ppfh!- I laughed sardonically and strode away. – Not worth it. – I mumbled just like in the old times, but this time I truly meant it.
Lying under a dark, warm, safe place I found them. Almost like magic, one morning they suddenly were there. These little things were hidden away by a protective belly, purring and snoring, sleeping and stretching, and caring for nothing. And certainly doing a lot of eating!
But they cannot see me or their hysterical mother as I approach; their tiny eyelids are still shut.
They are loved and embraced, looked upon with great curiosity and wonder by the foreigner human, or else…
Hi there!Whenever I feel stuck and frustrated because full and well-structured sentences refuse to come out right, I find that free-writing helps overcome these feelings, and what a better way to do so than writing a cinquain poem. In these lines I try to express what a cinquain poem means to me.
Explain, chain, entertain.
Free writing, no refrains:
Director: Kurt Kuenne
With an unusual idealistic way of walking through life a young parking attendant soon becomes popular for giving his customers not only validation for parking but the emotional kind as well, making them feel worthy and unique, dispensing smiles at no cost.
Within seconds this film made me smile, and that seemed to be its goal. At first I felt unsure about the plot, I didn’t know if it was for real or just a big joke, but still, it immediately hooked me. I felt a rollercoaster of emotions as the story was taken into epic proportions and then given some seriousness introducing a full plot; I cared for the character as he went along his journey making people smile, making me smile.
Hugh Newman played by the charismatic T.J. Thyne quickly won me over; and Vicky Davis’ performance as the mysterious Victoria Donner managed to keep me intrigued. As I learned more about these two eccentric characters on opposite sides of the emotional spectrum, I felt that perhaps their motives could have been shown a little deeper. Having what I consider a normal reaction to a good short film I was left wanting more of it.
A black and white, I thought this short film didn’t need color to be colorful; it’s amusing and entertaining as well as endearing and defying. I could appreciate how it was cleverly put together, with a humorous script and a perfectly assembled catchy and classy soundtrack, completing Kurt Kuenne’s mini-masterpiece quite nicely.
Even though it may seem simplistic and ridiculously unlikely, to me this is all part of the magic of a unique story with a purpose and with a soul, which is, undoubtedly, what has won this short film several awards. It is definitely worth watching, and if you do, at the very least, you’ll get a scoop of pure blissful happiness.
“Las Tres Desgracias“: A Painting By Carlos Antonio Oseguera Ramos
At first glance, you immediately think of Mexico. As if someone had painted all over the Mexican flag, the colors green, white, and red stand orderly before you, a pleasant mixture of shades in three colors on a set of three panels. Looking at those ordinary every day objects vividly and colorfully depicted in each canvas, you feel closer and connected with the Mexican culture. However, by taking a closer look and reading the inscriptions on each painting, these joyous feelings transform, and all of a sudden the green reminds you of that long lost hope for a better lifestyle, the white is filled with the nostalgia and solitude of a country that has forgotten their children, and the bloody red conveys a strong message of violence and oppression. Nonetheless, this deceitful piece of art carries a message that wants to be heard, creatively the artist has caught our eyes and our brains and our hearts; he has gone beyond shapes and colors proving that not even a painting can be ‘taken at face value’.
Title “Las Tres Desgracias” in English: The three misfortunes.
I-“Colorín colorado el desempleo se ha acabado”
II-”¿Y Adonde está el niño?”
III-”La serpiente estrangula a su victima antes de tragarla”
You can read my review in the next post above. ↑
This time our assignment was to write a news article.
After reading Roald Dahl’s short story “Lamb to the Slaughter” we had to imagine we had been at the scene of the crime as news reporters, and based upon this hypothetical situation we wrote a news article.
Aside from what I have learned about journalistic writing, I really enjoyed this activity, it was fun to become a character of the story and imagine what it would be like being there. Anyway here it is:Would you like to read the story first? . . .
NO WEAPON. NO SUSPECTS.
Senior detective Patrick Maloney was murdered last Thursday night in his own home, no suspects have been found yet; search for the murder weapon was unsuccessful.
Apparently the detective had come home soon after 5pm and was waiting for suppertime when his wife Mrs. Mary Maloney left for the grocery store across the street for no more than twenty minutes, and came back home to find her husband dead on the living room floor. No neighbor witnessed the attack. The officer suffered an instant death, leaving behind his poor widow and his unborn child.
According to the coroner’s preliminary report, “Maloney sustained a fatal injury caused by a single blow to the head with a heavy blunt instrument, almost certainly a large piece of metal”, Lead investigator Detective Jack Noonan stated that the key to solving this murder was to find the weapon; officers suspected it might have been thrown away or hidden on the premises. Even though the search went on for hours police officers were unable to identify said weapon.
After this most tragic event the community is left to wonder what this means in terms of security. Although the pressure is on the police department to find the murderer, no arrest has been made and any breakthroughs at this point seem unlikely.