Friday, July 15, 2011

The End of An Era

Jeezum, this whole Harry Potter craze has echoed through out all of yesterday and most of today. Not that I'm complaining--hell, I'm glad it's been this epic. I almost bought the tickets for the midnight premier but stupid me didn't buy it soon enough and they were sold out this week. My friend Silvia went to the 3D one and was at the mall somewhere around 2 p.m, and still there was a huge line. A girl that had gone at 10 a.m wasn't even the first one there and as I'm told, the lines at some of the malls were stretching out all the way to the parking lots. I feel terrible for not having been able to go (no one's fault but my own).

This morning, though, all I could hear about was how people were bawling at the theaters, and how it was finally hitting everyone that there would be no more books to read at midnight or movies to worry about, etc. Back when my dad asked me what my generation was, one of the answers would often be "Harry Potter?" It might not be the greatest piece of literature ever written, but it was my first book and the first time I ever decided I wanted to become a writer for real. So it might sound dramatic to say "This is the end of an era," but...it sure as hell feels that way O_o'

So I'll be watching the last Harry Potter film tomorrow--with a bunch of young children as often happens in movie showings before 4 p.m. and then...yeah...don't know what I'll do o_o' I don't cry at movies--not even in sad scenes, but I'm guessing I might crack on this one Dx.

Now how to transition smoothly from Harry Potter to what I was asked about...Thursday morning? Yeah.

There's no smooth transition here, I'm just going to ramble. It's connected in my mind--the way we change and yet the ways we stay the same. Growing up, all I've ever wanted is to be a writer. I was a writer before I was reader seeing as how I tried writing a short story right before my dad said (in Spanish) something along the lines of, "If you can read now, how about you try reading a bit of Harry Potter out loud?" And after that, through out my life there was always a little of, "When I grow up: I want to be a doctor and a writer. I want to be a model and a writer. I want to be a pilot and a writer. I want to be a soldier and a writer. I want to be in a band and be a writer. I want to be a film editor and a writer. I want to be a psychologist and a writer."

It's not unusual for kids to constantly change what they want to be while growing up. Often when people asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up I would say my current "main" profession first before mumbling something about publishing, or just never say it in the first place. Now a days I'll say something about being a humanitarian (which is not really a profession but I really should do nevertheless) or will just answer with "A professional hobo," which seems to be my most accurate answer so far >.>'

So on this whole writing thing, I've always seem to secretly like runaways, or kids that just never had parents holding them down, or the idea of getting away from useless adults and changing the world on our own. And recently, with the writing of my character Dream, there's this subtext in all my writing about "waking up." This idea that once you can see through everyone's eyes--both the killer's and the victims, the cheater and the heartbroken, the soldier and the civilian, etc--you'll be able to wake up completely and "find a way out of the labyrinth" (Which I know sounds like I bought the term at the cliche store. Usually speaking about it to my closest friends I get a "but that's not possible." And I'm sure it's not. Not for me at least. But I like having the idea there.

Alright--trying to wrap this up. I can't tell a short story for the life of me it seems.

I have a friend--nineteen, oppressive parents, that kind of thing--who seems to share (to a certain extent) my idea of traveling and seeing the world for oneself. As far as it goes his parents...uh...don't like me. Not that I'm entirely sure why, but to truly figure out their unknown dislike of me would mean meeting and speaking to them, which is near impossible at this point in time, so for now, they shall remain as 2D characters in this chapter and we'll see if they ever become a bit more. Aside from not liking me without clear reason and being downright neglectful to my dear friend (although this is all from our perspective rather than theirs, so I won't claim to know the whole story), it appears they've been keeping up some sort of security surveillance thing on him, as well as throwing in the occasional death glare. Sounds confusing? Well it is. The actual details surrounding their continuing attempts at chaining him down and keeping him like a trained dog are a bit bizarre, and I rarely get the whole story of anything. But it appears that finally, after nineteen years, he will make a stand against his parents constantly bitching at him, bossing him, and then neglecting him for extended periods of time. He has a plan to escape.

Which will come in effect in...oh...y'know...two to three years from now.

As far as plans go...it's pretty far fetched, but he seems to have a clear idea. I won't reveal much here, because I figure if him and his college friends get lucky or plan this out right, then they might as well carry it out without fear of anyone stealing their idea (not that it'll matter since no one reads this blog--but I'll keep it safe). More or less, it's the equivalent of a college road trip. Just a touring of the country in four months, making a blog about it, etc.

While trying to convince him that he needed to take action now rather than dream about something that could or couldn't happen two or three years from now, I got srsly asked to come with him on this trip. And my only true reaction to it was "...wut?" I can scarcely get around my own city, and even if I would love to see the world from the eyes of the people, how the hell would I travel the country at seventeen or eighteen with such limited knowledge?

Thing is...I mean...I know with the plan he's running this whole college road trip is going to be near impossible...

I'm still kind of dreaming about it.

I'm running around and flipping through my Led Zeppelin station at Pandora to think of a soundtrack in case I ever film the whole thing and make it as a sort of documentary of our travels. Putting aside the fact that I would be traveling with a bunch of people I don't know and only one good friend, I think I'm starting to put a lot of hope in something this far fetched to happen. I'm not trying to do it intentionally, and I know romanticizing things that could be potentially dangerous will just get me in trouble. But it's...I don't know. To be a runaway...to finally travel, even if at a small scale compared to the rest of the world...

Before this whole thing, I think I'm going to read Diarios de Motocicleta by Che Guevara and Neon Angel, A Memoir of a Runaway by Cherie Currie, and I know I can possibly get a "what the fuck are you doing connecting a guerrilla leader that started a revolution and was later executed with the story of a fifteen year girl who worked with Joan Jett to form the first all girl rock band?" but...

We've all got our reasons from leaving our homes and seeing pieces of the world. Maybe we're all runaways from some kind of thing, at one point or another.

I think.

Again, there's a lot I don't know xD.
~Becky

EDIT from some years later: It's hard to see posts like this, when I didn't understand. I edited a lot down, almost unconsciously, but I remember it all in clarity.

He was much older than me, and he wasn't just a friend. He was someone that tried very, very hard to manipulate an underage girl, made her cry too much. 

I got out. But it doesn't always feel like enough. Sometimes I wish it was possible delete what happened entirely. 

I'll settle for crossing that shit out.

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"Science and science fiction have done a kind of dance over the last century... The scientists make a finding. It inspires science fiction writers to write about it, and a host of young people read the science fiction and are excited, and inspired to become scientists...which they do, which then feeds again into another generation of science fiction and science..."
- Carl Sagan, in his message to future explorers of Mars.