Quickly, I want to apologize for accidently deleting my first video--I'm still trying to get the hang of my youtube account in conjunction with my blogger account, but rest assured all will be well once that hung is got. On a much, much less serious note: last year I took a road trip with a good friend. The video below is a bastardization and simulacrum of said trip and experience therein, but you should watch and enjoy it, nonetheless.
One of my dreams in life (as opposed to dreams in death?) is to be someone who is a "jet-setter;" I would love to be able to casually say some day "What did I do this weekend? I met a friend for lunch in London," but I'm beginning to doubt that as possible reality for me seeing as I get so emotionally attached to most places. I've spent less than a day cumulatively in Missoula, Montana, yet it feels like another home to me.
Alas, Once again I pick up my things and jump aboard a plane, nervous as can be. Undoubtedly, I'll love Lima, and feel as though I never want to leave, but I'll feel that way around the time I must return to my life unabroad. You shouldn't shy away from new experiences, profound I know, but change is necessary for our evolution as thinking, feeling beings. Whether it's a disco adaptation of Shakespeare, or studying abroad.
Eventually, the foreign becomes familiar, the familiar the past, and home only gets bigger and bigger.
Ps. You don't know bout OKC, turkey!
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Video weblogging, or vlogging, for those hip to internet lingo, is a staple of almost any blog--much like "Embarrassing Picture Mondays;" (Facebook Friends, consider yourselves warned)--but, unfortunately, I know very little about video editing software.
Now, normally I'm not one to ask for help, so everyone keeping up with this blog will just have to suffer through videos that have sub par audio and visual qualities.
Speaking of visual qualities (awesome segue) I'd like to contextualize the video up top, and since the little girl is obviously the star of the picture, let me give her a story. Juxtaposing me, she couldn't be happier to be awake and about at 5:30 in the morning, staring in awe what must've looked like a wall of moving patterns and colors. Lacan's theory of the gaze and the glance would say that those in positions of power gaze at and objectify the other in order to better understand their own existence, yet here was this girl--arguably the most alert person at the gate at this godforsaken hour--who was putting together a story in her head of the identically dressed men only to have it flutter away once she realized her mother (I'm assuming) hadn't taken her eyes off of her and wanted to play some more. And there I was taking it all in with a camera and applying my own assumptions on the entire situation. Likewise, anyone reading this will apply what he/she believes relevant to the situation and attempt to fill the blanks in my narrative--why am I filming children?--the narratives of the men in uniform--were they off for a deployment, off on leave, or simply hanging out together in the airport before they had to go their separate ways?--and the narrative of the littler girl--what could she possibly thinking as she stared at a group of people who's job it was to ensure that she have a home be able to live free of fear of enemies, foreign and domestic.
As I get older and the all-nighters catch up to me, I forget how much I hated sleeping as a kid. After all, time spent sleeping could have been better spent playing; then of course the energy drink was invented and my life, along with the lives of my contemporaries, went south REAL fast. 'Nonetheless' is three words put together to make one word, something I've always dug.
Before this post becomes a sappy, nostalgic contemplation of my home state and childhood, I think it's important that I state right now that I love being an adult or young adult or old teenager or wherever it is I reside in the age demographics' list. As an older younger adult-teen-person, I can take in things I see everyday and wonder about they're broader implications and ramifications and that isn't anything worth trading away--even if I would like more youthful joints sometimes.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Like the opening line in a novel, play, short story, or poem, this first post will be: a blueprint of what's to come and a whole mess of things that will only become clear, or blatantly obvious, after this blog concludes. My name is Oscar, I'm an aspiring intellectual and potential writer, I've seen 21 Arizona Summers and 3 New England Winters and survived them all. I believe in the Oxford Comma for it is useful, aesthetically pleasing, and. . .bubbles. Soy bilingüe, y me encanta leer. To cap off this first post, I'll leave you with my first published work. Much love to Langston Hughes (even if he was breast fed until he was nine years old) and Walt Whitman.
,y yo veo a quienes cantan América
I trimmed the leaves,
I cut the grass,
set the table, and cooked dinner.
But now I am one more in the kitchen
who is waiting to eat; waiting
a long time to be served. Suddenly,
I’m told to go because the table is full.
So I go back outside into the twilight.
Tomorrow I will greet the sun and ask him why;
today I do not cry, but I don’t sing.