♥Dayi♥: Diary of a Wimpy Kid

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

I just finished reading Diary of a Wimpy kid. I laughed so much my sister was looking at me weird. I really think it is a great material to read with our dreamers in class. I think they will be anxious to read it.The cartoons make it easier and funnier to read. It’s like they are drawing the same picture that we visualize in our mind. We can read it in big groups, maybe the entire class sitting in a circle. Then we will make comments and laugh about it.The wimpy kid is a very accurate example of what every kid at that age thinks. It would be fun to let them write in their journals the characters they see and interact in school every day. Just like the wimpy kid did.

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Living in the present, dreaming about the past

If you have ever been far away from someone you love, you are very familiar with this title. Not everyone reacts the same way but in my case it has driven me to the point of madness. I left my country, Cuba, and with that I knew the consequences that would follow. I just did not know how well I would be able to handle the situation. I was only 13 years old when I had to leave everything behind. Including all four grandparents. The years to come were not easy. Emptiness has always been were the feeling of affinity used to exist, (and being honest) I do not think it can be filled. But I have tried. God knows I have. However I have failed.
Since the moment I woke up on March 30, 2002 I knew my life would change. Everyone was in line to say our last goodbye and give us a very long kiss. My eyes were still dry because I did not want my little sister to start crying and I certainly did not want my parents to think they were making the wrong decision, so I contained myself. But then when the lump in my throat and the weight of my heart was too much to handle, I broke down. We decided that we did not want any family member in the airport; and thanks to that I got into the plane. Otherwise, I don’t know if either my parents or I could have done it.
For years I have refused to accept the fact that even though I live a pretty good life, I am missing a great part of me. I miss not only my family and friends but places I used to visit, like the old dirt road in which I walked to school every day, the blue ocean I could see from my balcony, and how everyone said good morning when the first sunbeam lighted the entire neighborhood. I miss sitting in my grandpa's lap to listen to his never-ending stories, which bored everyone except me. I miss playing hide and seek when there was a blackout. I miss my childhood, when I felt free playing and running in the streets. I also miss dreaming about Cuba. But most importantly I miss my reality, which changed because I am a foreigner.
Sometimes I ask myself if it is possible to have your body in a particular place but leave fragments of your soul where you most want to be. I guess that is the only explanation that calms me down at nights, when my pillow feels like it is made of rocks and the blanket is too cold. What is holding me to a place where I have not lived in five years? And why can't I feel that I belong here? I don't know. Maybe the reason is, aside from the people I left behind, the memories. Those are strong. They were built year after year of happiness, sadness and triumphs. I should be able to start new memories and just dream about the old ones. I must give myself that opportunity in order to start again. It is hard to live of memories; it is harder when you feel that that is what's keeping your spirit alive.
I adore my land because I am part of it. I came from its powder and towards that powder I will go back. Because of it I am and will always be Cuban in body and soul. I am matter and synthesis of my mother land, since from the abdomen of my mother already I was breathing the pure air that carry not only oxygen but a lot of “Cubania”.
My inner fears all revolve around not being able to see my loved ones when desperate moments arrive. One of them became more than just a fear when my grandpa passed away a year ago and I could not be there with him. That is one reason why I take all my decisions considering the distance. For example going away to college. The worst thing about being far away from them is the missing part and the lonely birthdays. I know that going to a different country would have been a lot harder if my parents were not here with me. They are my rock and sometimes I like to think I am theirs too. We live in a different environment where I need to represent my heritage so my sister does not forget them and my parents do not become too nostalgically. At the end of the day I feel exhausted and I fear both of them could happen to me. Morning arrives and my issues disappear. I need to prepare myself for a new day in school, speaking in English and behaving in a different society. Everyone is open minded in a democratic way and there is not as much humanitarian contact as in my country. I know I have a choice; to live in the present, a present that consists of achieving my goals, and leaving behind my dreams.
It is better for me to dream of my life when I was in Cuba and at least feel for a brief moment the most beautiful feeling: belonging. It is bad to compare, but that is all I can do. (My friends in Cuba and my actual friends, my house there and my apartment here, even what I usually did that I do not or cannot do anymore.) This essay is not easy to write. I am pouring out all my thoughts and feelings. But I think it is necessary to do it from time to time in order to realize the motives moving me and helping me in every step of the way. I wish I could fulfill all my dreams in a place where I feel more secure and happy, but not all our wishes can come true. However it is interesting to think that if my tears solidified into rocks, they will be enough to get me there, leap by leap.

I don't want to miss a thing

June 9, 2006, 12:30 a.m. I just had finished talking to my friend. We had been crying for more than 1 hour, since she got the news that her grandma had died. She was extremely confused. How could this happen to her? She was so loved, but who says that prevents us from dying? My dear friend was heartbroken. I wanted to calm her by saying something appropriate, however everything I did or said was far from appropriate. I could not stand not being able to hug her. I had to console her by phone, with my silence, not an embrace. She was so tired I told her to rest a little. I remember saying goodbye to her and at the same time praying: Please God do not let anything bad happen to my grandparents.
I guess he did not hear me or maybe he did and that is why it happened. At 12:31 a.m. when I was a mess telling my parents the terrible news, the phone rang. I was worried it could be my friend again. When my dad answered and I noticed that the call was not for me, and he said, “Acepto” (it is usually said when it is a call from Cuba) My heart, already in pain, collapsed, as if any noise could distract me from hearing what my dad was saying just a few inches away from me. What could be so important at this late hours? It could not be good, bad news always came at night, when the light of the sun is not there to give confidence and security. My prayer had not been answered. My grandpa had passed away.
It is not good even today, a year and a couple of months later to try to explain how I felt. How my whole body just went frantic looking for a way out. The fear of loss living in my heart since I left Cuba was in the open and I could not control it. How could I? It had come true. I was not there with him, not only me, my mom and dad, and little sister who would find out in the morning. There was no need to take her so abruptly away from her sweet dreams now. The nightmare would begin later. “God works in mysterious ways”, my friend told me once I called her. “Se fueron juntos, Dayi, they are ok.” Ironically she was trying to console me just as I had done to her hours before. The same awkward silence was present, but we did not need any words, our hearts were both in ruins, our tears were enough to understand each other’s pain. He was at peace. I needed to cling to that thought and I still do.
This experience has make me realize, like Aerosmith in his song, that “I don’t want to miss a thing.” I want to be able to appreciate how generous life has been with me. What tremendous luck I have had in all my 18 years, like having a loving family and a group of good, lasting friends that grows every day. I refuse to be one more of those ungrateful persons that even though life has been kind to them too, forget their real purpose in life. I know I am exposed to it, each and every day in this hypocritical society that make us sometimes forget; “One for all and all for one”, because in the real world the “all” disappear and then it is just you for yourself. I also realized how little time we have to do everything we want. We end going along with everyone else.
I do not want to loose anyone else and regret the time that we did not expend together. I know it was not my fault but the feeling of missing his last years alive is tormenting me. I have realized that every good bye, every kiss or hug is worthy, because it may be the last. We can not go through life hurrying and skipping moments we think are worthless. These little moments are the ones that at the end we will treasure.

♥Dayi♥

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Diary of a Wimpy Kid

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Living in the present, dreaming about the past

I don't want to miss a thing