Meeting Sherman Alexie and Sandra Cisneros

So this year I got to meet both Sherman Alexie and Sandra Cisneros, two of my favorite authors, and I can say that I was not the least bit disappointed with either of my heroes. I was introduced to Cisneros as a kid and I was introduced to Alexie as a teenager and I remember having an immediate reaction to both authors. Because of my heritage, I felt an immediate reaction to her stories and the language she used; I could see shadows and reflections of my own Mexican family within her stories and even though I am a guy, I had the same kind of visceral memories of toys and going to thrift stores and owning second hand things. I was a wealthy kid though, because I only remember going to those places with my grandfather who was a bit eccentric. Alexie's stories though, resonate with me because of the strained relationship I have with my own father. My father was a drunk, and though my parents are still married after all this time, there were really bad times. The times right after my older brother died after driving drunk was really hard and stressful for our family, as it sent my father on a self hating path for showing my brother the drink, and he blamed himself for a long time afterwords. Because of Alexie's and Cisneros' influence on me inspired me to write, meeting them was a dream come true. I am not sure I agree with Alexie's pessimistic view that our generation of writers are "fuc**d" but I appreciate that pessimistic attitude. I hope they continue writing stories for a while to come. 

Lovecraftian

The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind.

-H.P. Lovecraft

As a writer, I find myself drawn to things that are highly supernatural. For instance I am currently working on a piece about a death entity, trying to flip the concept on it's proverbial head, and my plan for a novel involves unicorns and such things. I have always been drawn to these aspects in literature, and I am not all together certain why. There are two stories by Lovecraft that I have read and I love; The Dunwich Horror and The Re-Animator has certain aesthetic merit and great ideas. While I am not particularly found of the Lovecraft's ideas on sex, race; a certain part of me likes inherited guilt and fell that Lovecraft is somewhat vilified in that sentiment, and another part of me is really disgusted at that sentiment and my own understanding of it, what really captures my imagination and admiration is the idea of humanity responsible for its own downfall and our inability to change it. This misanthropic take on humanity is what drives me to read Lovecraft. Humanity depicted as unable to defend ourselves from circumstances far from our control is astounding, so much so, that I am contemplating taking a whirl writing a story adopting elements of Lovecraft. The great cosmic threats like black holes, solar flares, gigantic meteors, because of our understanding of how they work, but our inability to technologically protect ourselves from such large scale threats, are echoed through Lovecraft's Great Old Ones, even if they are "gods."
The Lovecraft quote I chose for this post, sums up nicely his idea. We are so consumed by our own menial lives, we never take time to notice things. It is so nicely pessimistic and simplistic that I cannot help feeling in awe of it's dead author. The true genius of Lovecraft was his ability to write about humanities inadequacies. 

Reflections of Death

No Help For That
There is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
a space
and even during the
best moments
and
the greatest
times
we will know it
we will know it
more than
ever
There is a place in the heart that
will never be filled
and we will wait
and
wait
in that space
-Charles Bukowski
   
   I am currently writing a story about death and it has brought up some memories I, in a way, wish it had never brought back up to the surface. My brother died when I was nine years old, on August 3, 1996, more than sixteen years ago. But, even through that amount of time, I have never gotten over it. I laugh and I live and I go about my days, but I profoundly miss my brother. I recently took flowers to his grave, and as I placed them over  the headstone, I wondered what his life would be like, had he survived. I wonder if he would be proud of me, or disgusted. Sometimes I think the latter, but I always fell the former. Sixteen years is a relatively lengthy amount of time to be separated from someone you care about. He's like a ghost that refuses to let go, my memories of him faded, but somehow through the fuzz of years, more powerful, especially when I am confronted with an emotional trigger. I miss his laugh, his voice, his face, from my life, no picture can ever do justice to a living being. The fuzz of years, although it can bring a memory back powerful enough to leave me staggering, is so dazing, because I don't remember anything about him. There was a time in my life when I was taking stuffed bears to my class because I missed him, when he joined the army reserves when I was in second grade. When he came back, I was super excited and happy to see my long departed brother. Now I feel like that little boy again, crying into his stuffed bear on occasion and waiting for a brother, that will never return, because it's impossible. I would gladly give my life away, just to see again for an indistinguishable amount of time just to hear his voice again.

My Life on the Outside: Being a Chicano, but Barely

I am a Chicano, a Mexican/American if you will. I can't change that nor do I want to. I am also a half-ling who takes more after my European mother than my Mexican father; that said I have white skin and dark brown hair, with striking light brown eyes. I say all of this because my complexion has caused some problems for me. As a kid in Elementary and Middle school, my peers were composed of mostly African-Americans and Hispanic kids. I never felt accepted in school, I was an outcast in Elementary school, while I was attending Christian Life Center Academy. I was picked on by my peers and made to feel as though I should eat lunch alone on the stairs most days. I don't display many of the more accepted male traits known for my sex, accustomed to my race and that complicates matters. In middle school I tried to reinvent myself, acting like a wanna be. It didn't get me anywhere and I was made to feel like much more of an outcast. My first experience with a comment of how "this was all going back to Mexico" (referencing a belief of Mexican reacquisition) and back then I remember linking the idea, if only to feel like I belonged to a group.
 I recently attended a special reading of Inprint (a not for profit here in Houston) titled Red, White and Blue: Poets on Politics which featured one of my favorite authors from my child hood: Sandra Cisneros. It was an entertaining night to say the least, and the other educator that attended was brilliant, but I was there only because of Ms. Cisneros. For those of you who don't know, Ms. Cisneros an acclaimed author who happens to be a Chicana. It was a fairly enlightening night, until they opened up the forum for questions. It wasn't the questions asked by one of the audience members, which was about how there was not any Chicano creative writing staff at the University of Houston but the comment that from Texas to California was "Occupied Mexico." This second experience with a comment like this disturbed me because as a Chicano-American, and the first generation of my immediate family to attend college, because I relate more as an American. But, then again, it doesn't matter that I relate more as an American, because my skin tone as well as my inability to speak spanish, hinders my ability to relate to my hispanic peers and that is what is so depressing to me. Other than my Fathers side and some of his friends, I have not made a lasting relationship with any one of hispanic heritage, other than my "sisters" and their family whom are very special to me. I can handle this, I just wish I had the ability to feel apart of the community without feeling as though I am an outsider.

The Most Astounding Fact

*Picture from http://apod.nasa.gov
Neil deGrasse Tyson is perhaps the most brilliant astrophysicist of our age. He is the reason I am interested in science at all. I am no good at mathematics and I am more interested in geology as a subject than anything else; but Space has always held a special place in my heart. I remember being captivated by the sheer majesty of those burning balls of gas, as a child, and feeling that way, even now, with a greater appreciation of the fact that I want darkness. It is astonishing to stand under the stars, and just take in the wonder of them.
To me, finding out how things work in the universe, being able to explain "mysteries" of our world, through science does not effect my faith; it enhances it. One example I always use in explanation of this is a rainbow. Many of my Christian friends and fellow church attenders, believe that the original instance of the rainbow is the promise of God to Noah and they hate any alternative explanations on the origin of the subject. They won't hear about how light reflects from the multitude of water droplets that comprise the rainbow, causing a prism effect in the sky and that is sad to me, because in my opinion, my knowledge of the rainbow, does not take away from the beauty of it, and certainly doesn't take away the possibility of God creating it. But, I digress. And that is why I love Neil deGrasse Tyson so much. He has opened up doors to knowledge I never really understood and has injected a curiosity into me. Neil deGrasse Tyson stresses the importance of being scientifically literate, and I strive to be. My favorite quote of his is beautifully illustrated by Zen Pencils here: http://zenpencils.com/comic/42-neil-degrasse-tyson-the-most-astounding-fact/
What is brilliant about this quote, is that when reading it/listening to in through youtube, is that it comes across as a sermon about the Universe. It's interesting how he talks about the Universe being inside each of us at the end, because that is a feeling I have had before, when I was just a child, looking up at the sky dotted with stars, here in Houston, not the best place to see stars. He is an inspiration in another way because as I am a college student, I am reminded why I want to be an educator, and how, even though I have moments of melancholy and depression, I generally believe in Humanity's ability to be basically good. Until I become a teacher, and even after, I will look up to those heavenly bodies which dot blackness of space, and feel connected to a Universe that doesn't owe me anything, and stand in awe. Neil deGrasse Tyson will remain one of my heroes, and a worthy one at that, because he has exposed my desire for greater space exploration through NASA, and because with the passion he speaks about space, he has inspired me to continue with my own Dreams and aspirations.

Reasons

First of all, I am not a blogger. I am appalled at the idea of making stupid random ideas connect to something that isn't a part of anything. I know, I know, that really doesn't make any sense, sue me. And that's my problem being a History major/English Creative Writing major at the University of Houston; apathy. Apathy is the killer of all sane thought; it kills ambition, drives you to do things that are stupid, like instead of doing that reading you know you should be doing, you sit down and play The Ballad of Gay Tony for "just a little bit" which turns into a four hour spree. Apathy, is a writer's worst nightmare. I was like this in high school, sometimes I am like this in college. Apathy is my number one flaw. And, I don't want to offend anyone, but I blame this partially on being raised in a Pentecostal Church. Now, I am not saying that I am not a Christian, but when hearing your whole life that your savior is coming back to "rapture" his children away, and the world will end in a spectacular way, as described in the book of Revelation, it doesn't imbibe you with a sense that anything you accomplish will ever be meaningful. Why worry about grades, why worry about the future, why worry about paying your bills or even food for that matter, if you're going to be whisked away at a moment's notice.

I still attend the same church I did as a little boy, and the congregation has not changed much over those years. They just keep climbing and climbing in age, with no one attending that is even remotely in my generation, excluding my girlfriend, my brother and my cousin. Lately I bring my course work in with me to do some reading while I am in attendance, my time being reduced to an hour and a half a week. When I think of apathy I think of my church and I think of my mother, whom I love very much. The more classes I attend at the University, the more I realize how apathetic members of my congregation are towards education, and learning. I can't talk about Literature with my mother, without her reading religion and God into a text that has nothing to do with either of those things. I don't see the point in arguing about things that don't matter. And that is my dilemma. It is impossible to care about something when you are raised to embrace apathy, and still feel the pressure of not wanting to fail. The paradox of the situation, is these two aspects are always fighting for footholds.