Give me my Language back

Original Facebook Date: December 2, 2007

Location: Study - Incense just off - Bit troubled

Feeling: Lazy

Listening to: Oasis - Live Forever

‘‘Don’t need reason, don’t need rhyme’’.- Bon Scott in Highway To Hell

My Spanish class sucks. It’s completely demoralized my ideal of being a writer. (Best sellers only in my dreams). Thanks to our very accomplished (but no so capable) teacher, I have entered a phase in wich writing has suffered heavy losses. In the beggining (’bout 6 years ago) I discovered Literature and Writing as an escape pod from regular socity, ever since I read my first serious book (No, Harry Potter is not a serious book), an awesome story by Luis Sepúlveda, a Chilean writer, La Historia de Una Gaviota y del Gato que le enseñó a Volar (The Story of a Seagull and the Cat that Taught Her to Fly) I was 11(awww) when I read it for the first time, and I felt inspiration for the first time. But I wouldn’t start writing until I was 14. My writing, the stories that came to me everything looked promising. But then I entered my current school, and my Spanish teachers made their best to make me hate literature. For a year I studied the horrible world of medieval, renassaince and baroque literature, full of a stranege dead language that I learned to hate. I love history, but seeing it in the eyes of those past writers was nasty. But then again, this was Spanish literature, the only stinkhole we’re allowed to peek through. I remember asking the teacher about Shakespeare, Voltaire, Milton, Dante. And what did that motherfucker say? ‘‘We will only see Spanish authors.’’ I wanted to strangle him so bad, because he is also extremely rude. If you want a moment to speak with him, he frets the conversation before you can say anything else. That was back at my first year, 2006-2006, the last years have been the same if not worse. Our current teacher may have a respectable knoledge bank in his head and knows his subject, but he’s an idiot. He can’t stand up for himself with the students (poor thing gets pushed over all the time), and displays symptoms of alzheimer (you know it when he leaves you the same homework three times). Things didn’t change much. Again, Spanish authors only (Literature quality did improve though) but the only moment we had for Latin American authors was a class almost at the end of the year. And we didn’t learn a thing (everyone had entered their stoopid vacation idiocy that makes me want to spill out their guts with a knife and feed them to ra- oops, said too much). This teacher also blasters(I think I made this up) my poetry as missing order, reason and rhyme (clearly he wasn’t heard AC/DC). My poetry is not perfect, obviusly, but even I know that it’s way off average. I hate the feact that the Spanish Language is venerated like a fucking church in Spain, when languages must be let to flow. I hate that fucking RAE and it’s bloody dictionary, telling me how to express myself. Languages must be organized in a known gramatical way like English, but not like a regime of obsession for make everything their way. (Do we drink ‘‘güisquí’’?, I’m fucking sure we don’t). Returning to poetry, if a writer must stick to these rules, he will never live up to his full potential. Some might say (Oasis song pun! Yay!) that quoting Bon Scott is not agood example, I’m sure he wouldn’t understand my dilemma, but he was just smart in pointing those words out. Let’s hope 12th grade bodes better, and that Don Quixote doesn’t give me nightmares (I’ve got Dulcinea and you won’t get her back until you pay me $$$$).

I’ve learned to study society over the last months, and realize how happy I am out of it. Society spits to you in the face when you’re not ‘‘compatible’;’, but you still worship it like an animal. It is everywhere, and those who belong to it and it’s constanly mutating generations seem to go in the same sense, in different lanes, but still on the same sense. Os course, I try to take society in my own hands, trying to stick to the people that think of it the same as me, but we still dance before it, after all, we ARE human. The human race is weak. For those who don’t reflex on society’s evil doings, they go with the flow. But then there are those who think that a constant contact with society is necessary so you don’t go gaga(Sad, ain’t it folks?)A smart person knows how to be symbiotic with society, but those who don’t know anything are the ones that lose at the end. Those are people with no personality. (ERRK: I am speaking of my generation, the crappiest one yet) People try to be like others to be inside society, and therefore harm their being. If you are not who you feel comfortable with, then how are you going to end it up, following the usually dangerous and idiotic trends? Shit awaits for you in the future. This can be mended by giving some time for yourself, cutting contact and discovering your personality and that that makes you unique. It would be nice to have some of the goofs I know to put them somewhere where they get would get no contact with the world, just to themselves. To find their sanctuary.

Many call me weird. I am happy being ‘‘weird’R17;, because I’m just myself, and I don’t go to society’s pace. If my likings are not common in society, they are considered strange, but for us to find ourselves, we must be ‘‘weird’R17;.

If you’re not yourself, then, who are you?

Sharkman, urging you to reflex a little, signing off.

PS: Please watch the video by BenLoka at the bottom of my profile page.