My brothers and I LOVE camping.
The last time we went out together for an "adventure" was January 2008. My wonderful cousin Karina and one of our childhood friends tagged along for the ride, as well as one of my brother's girlfriends at the time. And her sister and nephews, lets not forget that. We thought we had everything calculated, to the meals to be had to the time spend on the road.
My brother had even thrown the possibility of proposing to his girl when we reached one of the waterfalls. It was quite the ambitious plan, nothing could go wrong, right?
This became a horrific yet amazing trip that I would totally do again. It was our first trip together without our parents, our first trek on our own, to face the wilderness... if by that you picture a caravan of fully equipped 4x4 trucks with handy camping gear, we weren't exactly going for a crazy survival experience.
But it easily became one.
Nothing went as planned, because of carelessness, miscalculations, being too bold or too scared at the wrong things, and then it became clear to me, the one night all of our cars had broken down in the middle of nowhere, that this was probably what life would be like. One big state of uncertainty.
I don't know if the fact that I was holed up and angry, delirious from sun poisoning and trying to doze off in my tent was aiding my philosophical study that particular night, but the fact is that the conversations had during that trip were eye openers.
This was also before my family disbanded to try to find a better future for all of us, and eventually be together again.
During that trip, my cousin Karina and I would sit on the river at night, after fixing dinner, and gaze at the silver streaks that painted the surface of the water from time to time. We would watch the stars that shone so bright above us, the ones that you could only appreciate when you're just a hop away from the Amazon. The sense of peacefulness that we were given was mind blowing, even when we were surrounded by many campers that crowded that camp to the brim.
There were many shooting stars, many wishes thrown out to the Universe, wrapped in hopeful sighs and serene smiles. We never asked each other what we wished for, just in case we'd jinxed it, and the moment, like many others I know I've forgotten, was stored in the drawer of "Things I'll look back at eventually and wonder how life was ever this simple."
The similarities of that trip to what life has become for us, are uncanny.
A few years ago, not too long ago, really, the plan for life for us was different. We were"equipped" to go out there and have a blast, to "enjoy" life. Our concept of "Life Enjoyment" though, I believe was shortsighted at the time.
Just like in that trip, we thought we were in for some sightseeing, but it quickly turned into a whole challenge to not only try to make it back home, but make it back in one piece. After a 28hr drive, in which we couldn't shut down our cars in fear they wouldn't start again, and taking turns as drivers and switching car batteries to keep the cars running, we crawled up our parents' driveway, exhausted and hungry. We laid back on the concrete slab and thought about what we did wrong, angry at the circumstances and at each other, but there was no hatred. Amazingly enough, there was a sense of brotherhood I don't think we had before we had left a week before.
In the city we couldn't see the stars anymore, but we didn't forget the promises thrown at the Pleiades. We didn't forget about the magic, we didn't forget about Hope.
I really don't have that many pictures from that trip, because I spent more time living my surroundings than just looking from afar, more time trying to navigate our limitations and use our environment than just staying on the safe paved roads, more time realizing that even the things that seemed safe could actually be the things that put you in danger. What I need to remember from it is burned on my brain, experiences learned and understood. We reached our goal, we had gotten "home."
My brother didn't end up marrying that girl; the trip also showed him his own different outcome, eventually driving him to a different finish line, and the right person to share his life with.
The trip showed us, that in reality, most of the time the sense of Home is skewed, especially if you're just starting your own road. Because at this point of your life, these adventures are not set for weekend visits, but for a nomadic expedition, even if for you just means moving across the street.
Just like the moment after from our 2008 trip, I need to regroup. At this moment of 2013, I need to understand that, while the trip I've been on for the past few years was planned with a set outcome and now is making me take a route I don't want to take, the fact that it drew different results doesn't mean that the trip has been a failure. It doesn't mean that we can't go camping again. It doesn't mean that this is the end of the road, though sometimes it feels like it.
I need to process the gifts and experiences that I've collected along the way; to cherish the beauty and marks that they've left behind, and then realize how these bags of new wealth can provide for yet another trip. Another trip to finally make it home, the real one, the one I make.
No part of all of that comes easy, or fast, or pain free.
I've had the luck to meet the people that I've met, the people I've learned from, the people that have made this trip worth while, each experience with them a gift from which I've drawn the most wisdom I can gather. I've had the chance to prove myself wrong when I said that fantasies are just fantasies, to live through situations that escape logic, and with those lucky breaks, run into even more amazing people that I would have never found on a safe and paved road. It is because of you, each and everyone of you that are reading this, that "that" needed understanding doesn't come easy, even when I'm willing myself to it, even when you are.
Each of you have changed me, shaped me into something I'm proud of, giving me new ambitions, making me realize that I belong, at last. You finally gave me something to be passionate about and that's the most beautiful gift I've received.
Los Angeles became my home because of you, because of each and everyone that became a river to sit and ponder, to feed from and enjoy, to find solace when things were going awry. This place is my anchor because I found the humanity in it, even when is so tough. This place is mine because even when you rarely see REAL stars, dreams do come true from time to time, because you make them happen, because I've managed see myself reflected in the chaos of the city and learned to appreciate the beauty of it all; because when you finally find your North, the things you hoped for and the magic that you prayed for, no longer seem like abstract wishes but actual structures you can build on.
That's why imagining my life without you is hard and why I'm not saying goodbye to L.A. I don't lie when I tell you that at some point I loved you for what you brought into my life, for the warm hug and the push to keep going, that's why I don't consider me going back in a month to Venezuela the end of my trip. I'm just telling you that I'm coming back later... for a coffee and a scone at Porto's and a walk at 4am when writer's block threatens to hit strong.
For now, I need to explore another road to come back home again.
I will see you later.
March 25, 2013
January 27, 2013
three and half years
I rather be writing something else right now. Believe me. I rather be writing a script, a rant about something completely vain and irrelevant, pondering about the quirky things that sometimes fill my life. Hell, I seriously rather be writing fanfiction. I also wish I didn't have a cold that came completely unexpected.
This space has been an outlet for me whenever I'm overwhelmed by things I find hard to cope with sometimes. And tonight is one of those nights.
Some of you, my friends and acquaintances that have been in contact with me in the past few months, know that I'm going through a situation I do not wish anyone to face.
I've been living in this country for over three and a half years, a journey that began by being accepted into AFI Conservatory and the chance of turning my life around. During these years, not only have I found amazing friendships and experiences, but I've also managed to find the road to find myself.
In these past months, I've realized how different I am from the person that came to Los Angeles in 2009. I don't mean to sound conceited, although lets face it, I'm writing a blog about me, what's more self absorbed than that? but the truth is that I love the person I've become.
I wasn't so much in love with myself back then... and I think that part of the reason why I wasn't the person I wanted to be before I moved resided on the fact that I was living in a place I did not belong. And I've known this most of my life.
You've read my other rants, I never settled. Not letting myself get attached to people, places or things that would tie me to a situation I knew I would have to walk away soon enough. Shall I refer you to my "couch diatribe"? Maybe you should browse my other writings.
While I lived in Venezuela, I always felt out of place, regardless of the familiar things I like because I grew up there. I know I love many things about the country; the traditions, my friends & family that still live there. I love the food, I'm fond of the simpleness of how people relate to each other and the landscapes that served as my backyard. I love everyone's resilience and I'm convinced that's one of the few things that could identify me as a Venezuelan.
On the other hand, I outgrew that environment a long time ago. And that environment didn't follow suit. Regardless of how much I tried back then, and how much others have tried to shift my country's reality, the fact is that nothing has changed and in fact things are exponentially worse than when I left.
So right now, as I sit on my bed surrounded by boxes, I'm writing to try to unwind.
I'm on a countdown that's running out fast to try to find a solution to stay in this country. I've been on this countdown since day one. I've looked down roads and opened doors looking for opportunities that sadly in my field require of more time to materialize. I could go on for hours about the unfairness of this situation; of how I'm so willing and determined to make my life in this country and how the perspective of leaving seems like the worst option. I've cried and stressed out and struggled in the past year far beyond the limits I was even aware I could bear.
On the one hand, looking for the silver lining of it all, I'm amazed at how much I can hold on, and how much I can withstand for the sake of what I'm sure its my calling and what I should be pursuing; on the other hand, the sacrifice has put such a strain on my family and even my own body that right now feels like I'm running on empty and making me feel guilty for a variety of reasons that ironically only become worse if I were to leave.
I want to make sure that, as you read this, you don't get the idea that I'm giving up. Because I'm not. I will fight until the very last day I'm able to find a way to continue in my path, even when it feels that I'm not as battling as fierce as you've seen me fight before. My desire is that I can find a job that can keep me here, to continue living around the people that have proven to be true friends, my greatest work partners and creative collaborators, the people that have made my life rich and that are the family I've chosen.
Right now, thanks to the amazing and welcoming nature of two of those angels in my life, I'm disbanding the place I've lived at for the past year and change. For the sake of giving me that extra time to continue my battle, I'm moving into their living room, and bracing myself for what I know will be days or months of serious struggle. Half my things will be in boxes, half others held by friends. Nothing sold, nothing thrown away in haste. Because no one wants to tell me and no one believes that I'm leaving. I myself don't even believe that I am. Call it "spidey sense", call it denial. I'm not ready to give up. I'm not ready to let go of the belief that the Universe is saving something for me.
Today, as I packed away the cute little green ramekins I usually bake little deserts in, I found myself repeating in my head that the next time I peel the bubble wrap from them will be to put them in cupboards in my new house, here in Los Angeles. I could even see the decor of this place, and in that deranged moment of this packing frenzy, I didn't know if to berate myself for being naive or feel okay because something deep in me is telling me that I'll be alright.
I went through the myriad of things that I've kept from film shoots, jobs, trips, relationships and friendships, heartbreak and ecstatic happiness; trinkets, notes, pictures - promises, hugs, kisses and even hurtful moments that I cherish because I've never lived with this intensity before. And as I put them in boxes and got rid of things that I really wouldn't need here or anywhere else, I kept asking myself, what am I packing for? Because it doesn't feel like any of these things would fit on any kind of life back in the country that saw me come into this world.
So is this a sign, or is this denial? Is this my body & mind's way to protect me to push me to keep going and deal with whatever outcome, later, when I can't avoid it anymore? Going back to Venezuela feels like such a set back that, past the date of my "proposed" return, I can't visualize myself in that reality.
I've grown enough that I even got a couch. That has to count for something, right? Even when right now that couch will be moved to someone's living room for the time being.
My wish is that soon I can continue finding magic in my life, because I miss it. I want to be able to go through the day without fear of losing what I have and not be able to reach what I deserve, and have mental space to go back to the dozen of projects I've been forced to put in standby, including my life.
I'd like to not to be so caught up into all of this that I've stalled continue to become the person I love. I know I'm a work in progress, and even with the things I don't like so much about myself, I guess I've found the wisdom to cherish that I'm different, that there's value to myself and that I believe its the most important thing I've realized about this process. It is also the most frustrating thing when it comes to try to sort through the unfairness of why it's become so hard for me to find a way to stay.
My wish is to continue to be in the city that, for once, feels like home and happiness. The one place that didn't make me yearn for another reality, because most of what I want, need and deserve is here... and the rest can either be found, flied in or a phone call away.
I'm not asking for material concepts but the wealth of feeling that you're where you're supposed to be. That feeling doesn't translate in words, and its hard to explain, and is not about being spoiled and refusing to face reality, its that THIS is my place to stay. My wish is to remain in the place that feels ironically exciting and safe, even when it comes to just about going for a walk at 4am; where I don't feel like outside my door something is waiting to harm me, where I can see a future and not a holding pattern. I wish for this situation to resolve, so I don't feel crippled anymore and can actually go back to be the person that bloomed and thrived on possibilities, and then made those come to life.
I know that many of you may be saying that I should give mental space to the "What if...?" The rational side of me agrees with you, the rest of me doesn't, because in the process of becoming who I am, I've lost the ability to reinvent what I don't want. It may be seen as a downside, or being closed minded, but in reality is my awareness to weed out the things that I know won't come with costly consequences that I no longer have the ability to sort through.
I'm putting my faith out there that my instincts won't fail me. In the end, there will always be another line to learn from this book.
This space has been an outlet for me whenever I'm overwhelmed by things I find hard to cope with sometimes. And tonight is one of those nights.
Some of you, my friends and acquaintances that have been in contact with me in the past few months, know that I'm going through a situation I do not wish anyone to face.
I've been living in this country for over three and a half years, a journey that began by being accepted into AFI Conservatory and the chance of turning my life around. During these years, not only have I found amazing friendships and experiences, but I've also managed to find the road to find myself.
In these past months, I've realized how different I am from the person that came to Los Angeles in 2009. I don't mean to sound conceited, although lets face it, I'm writing a blog about me, what's more self absorbed than that? but the truth is that I love the person I've become.
I wasn't so much in love with myself back then... and I think that part of the reason why I wasn't the person I wanted to be before I moved resided on the fact that I was living in a place I did not belong. And I've known this most of my life.
You've read my other rants, I never settled. Not letting myself get attached to people, places or things that would tie me to a situation I knew I would have to walk away soon enough. Shall I refer you to my "couch diatribe"? Maybe you should browse my other writings.
While I lived in Venezuela, I always felt out of place, regardless of the familiar things I like because I grew up there. I know I love many things about the country; the traditions, my friends & family that still live there. I love the food, I'm fond of the simpleness of how people relate to each other and the landscapes that served as my backyard. I love everyone's resilience and I'm convinced that's one of the few things that could identify me as a Venezuelan.
On the other hand, I outgrew that environment a long time ago. And that environment didn't follow suit. Regardless of how much I tried back then, and how much others have tried to shift my country's reality, the fact is that nothing has changed and in fact things are exponentially worse than when I left.
So right now, as I sit on my bed surrounded by boxes, I'm writing to try to unwind.
I'm on a countdown that's running out fast to try to find a solution to stay in this country. I've been on this countdown since day one. I've looked down roads and opened doors looking for opportunities that sadly in my field require of more time to materialize. I could go on for hours about the unfairness of this situation; of how I'm so willing and determined to make my life in this country and how the perspective of leaving seems like the worst option. I've cried and stressed out and struggled in the past year far beyond the limits I was even aware I could bear.
On the one hand, looking for the silver lining of it all, I'm amazed at how much I can hold on, and how much I can withstand for the sake of what I'm sure its my calling and what I should be pursuing; on the other hand, the sacrifice has put such a strain on my family and even my own body that right now feels like I'm running on empty and making me feel guilty for a variety of reasons that ironically only become worse if I were to leave.
I want to make sure that, as you read this, you don't get the idea that I'm giving up. Because I'm not. I will fight until the very last day I'm able to find a way to continue in my path, even when it feels that I'm not as battling as fierce as you've seen me fight before. My desire is that I can find a job that can keep me here, to continue living around the people that have proven to be true friends, my greatest work partners and creative collaborators, the people that have made my life rich and that are the family I've chosen.
Right now, thanks to the amazing and welcoming nature of two of those angels in my life, I'm disbanding the place I've lived at for the past year and change. For the sake of giving me that extra time to continue my battle, I'm moving into their living room, and bracing myself for what I know will be days or months of serious struggle. Half my things will be in boxes, half others held by friends. Nothing sold, nothing thrown away in haste. Because no one wants to tell me and no one believes that I'm leaving. I myself don't even believe that I am. Call it "spidey sense", call it denial. I'm not ready to give up. I'm not ready to let go of the belief that the Universe is saving something for me.
Today, as I packed away the cute little green ramekins I usually bake little deserts in, I found myself repeating in my head that the next time I peel the bubble wrap from them will be to put them in cupboards in my new house, here in Los Angeles. I could even see the decor of this place, and in that deranged moment of this packing frenzy, I didn't know if to berate myself for being naive or feel okay because something deep in me is telling me that I'll be alright.
I went through the myriad of things that I've kept from film shoots, jobs, trips, relationships and friendships, heartbreak and ecstatic happiness; trinkets, notes, pictures - promises, hugs, kisses and even hurtful moments that I cherish because I've never lived with this intensity before. And as I put them in boxes and got rid of things that I really wouldn't need here or anywhere else, I kept asking myself, what am I packing for? Because it doesn't feel like any of these things would fit on any kind of life back in the country that saw me come into this world.
So is this a sign, or is this denial? Is this my body & mind's way to protect me to push me to keep going and deal with whatever outcome, later, when I can't avoid it anymore? Going back to Venezuela feels like such a set back that, past the date of my "proposed" return, I can't visualize myself in that reality.
I've grown enough that I even got a couch. That has to count for something, right? Even when right now that couch will be moved to someone's living room for the time being.
My wish is that soon I can continue finding magic in my life, because I miss it. I want to be able to go through the day without fear of losing what I have and not be able to reach what I deserve, and have mental space to go back to the dozen of projects I've been forced to put in standby, including my life.
I'd like to not to be so caught up into all of this that I've stalled continue to become the person I love. I know I'm a work in progress, and even with the things I don't like so much about myself, I guess I've found the wisdom to cherish that I'm different, that there's value to myself and that I believe its the most important thing I've realized about this process. It is also the most frustrating thing when it comes to try to sort through the unfairness of why it's become so hard for me to find a way to stay.
My wish is to continue to be in the city that, for once, feels like home and happiness. The one place that didn't make me yearn for another reality, because most of what I want, need and deserve is here... and the rest can either be found, flied in or a phone call away.
I'm not asking for material concepts but the wealth of feeling that you're where you're supposed to be. That feeling doesn't translate in words, and its hard to explain, and is not about being spoiled and refusing to face reality, its that THIS is my place to stay. My wish is to remain in the place that feels ironically exciting and safe, even when it comes to just about going for a walk at 4am; where I don't feel like outside my door something is waiting to harm me, where I can see a future and not a holding pattern. I wish for this situation to resolve, so I don't feel crippled anymore and can actually go back to be the person that bloomed and thrived on possibilities, and then made those come to life.
I know that many of you may be saying that I should give mental space to the "What if...?" The rational side of me agrees with you, the rest of me doesn't, because in the process of becoming who I am, I've lost the ability to reinvent what I don't want. It may be seen as a downside, or being closed minded, but in reality is my awareness to weed out the things that I know won't come with costly consequences that I no longer have the ability to sort through.
I'm putting my faith out there that my instincts won't fail me. In the end, there will always be another line to learn from this book.