Why post my English homework on here? Because this actually has spell check. So I'm probably going to do assignments on here anyway. Might as well publish these assignments. So here I go.
All assignments must be done in MLA guidelines. If you don't know what that is, you should look it up. You're going to need to know soon enough.
Always Living in Spanish by the author Marjorie Agosin is a story about the author holding on to her culture throughout difficulties in life. Trying to hold on to where I come from has been very difficult for me, from moving three times in a year to not having a roof over my head sometimes. Holding on to a part of my past is one of the most difficult things I've dealt with, while moving. Of course, the author talking more of tradition and values, the experience that is shared between her and I, is one of fighting to keep the past alive. The past for the author being, her upbring in Chile. The past for me would be, sentimental items collected over the years. Each of our past has value to ourselves. But from an outsiders point of view, "poor English" is more easily made fun of, then the constant feeling of incompleteness I felt from not having physical possessions.
Though the hardships experienced by the author are extremely more awful than anything I have ever had to deal with, my family and I moved multiple times due to hardships as well. The idea that I assumed my parents had, when finally deciding to move, was one of seeking a better situation. I have to confess. I do assume everyone in the entire world holds this very same optimistic idea. The idea of trying to find a better situation for myself became so strong for me once, that I had moved out of my parents house before graduating High School. And just as, "that other America that looked with suspicion at those who did not speak English," I had experienced many people's questioning about why I chose to move out of my house. Of course, I could understand the simple curiosity at my predicament, the accusations of my parent's house being a "shit hole" still bothered me. I felt guilt I could not deal with my family like the rest of my peers. I felt out of place living with another family from a different ethnicity. I felt lost in my situation. I felt as though I was learning how to live out in the real world without any kind of real guidance. I can understand how it must have felt for author when she wrote, "not even the sky has the same constellations."
I think that as humans, we try to cope with our situations the best we can. Oddly enough, the author and I share one way of coping with hard times, writing. And though the author used writing, as a tool to keep her language and culture alive, I used it to keep my psychological wellbeing alive.While staying with an entirely new set of characters than what I ever have been used to before, I had found that writing could be a release of everything that was inside my soul. Writing had become my Christ. I had gone to writing not because I enjoyed reading. But, because no one I knew would read and question my thoughts. It was almost as if text was an entirely separate language from what my peers spoke. I could access any part of my mind and freely work it into a storm of words. This is a feeling that I have from that point until quite recently, have long forgotten. But I have recently started to write again and those old feelings of freedom are starting to come back. Because, sometimes you have to fight, to keep the past alive.
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