More than Simply Existing

On a somewhat more literal level, one of my favorite things about this book is how Laura Esquivel portrayed the idea of food being a window to the soul and one's emotions flowing out through their cooking. Food is a passion of mine. I love to discover new recipes, even though I never actually follow the recipe and eventually just ditch them and make my own thing. It's a crazy and wild adventure cooking on a whim. When I am in a bad mood and cook, it never tastes as good as when I enjoy the whole process. It could just be all in my head, but I still think that food is an expression of the soul.

I found the "romance" in this novel to be a bit refreshing. Sounds weird, I know. I'm not much of a chick-flick kind of girl. They all have the exact same plot or theme. Two people meet and they either like each other or hate each other. Then from there they have some kind of fight or there is some situation that prevents them from being together. However, they all end the same, with the couple falling in love and living happily ever after. *gag* So, I'm not much of a romantic, never have been. I'm not a touchy feely, huggy, sappy, mushy person (the irony is that both my brothers are, one is very huggy and the other is complete mush.). It seems that society had done an excellent job in creating and building up this completely fictional character called Prince Charming. The perfect guy will come swooping in and sweep you off our feet. Really? Come on. It's not going to happen. There is no perfect guy. You can dream up and create this "prince charming" in your head, but he will never actually exist. It will just be a letdown. Now, I'm not trying to be completely cynical. I do think that there is a person who completes you, someone who is perfect for you, who is a good balance for you and you for them. However, I do not believe in nor do I like the idea of "prince charming." In Like Water for Chocolate, the prince charming character, or who most Americans would think of as the “prince charming” character loses.

Tita’s character is one I think many people can relate to. She was passionate about life and had her own ideas of what was right and knew what she wanted. However, she never acted on those things, until the very end of the story. She conformed to the pressure of the society she lived in and to the wishes of her mother. Tita simply squashed her own desires down deep inside of herself, pretending they weren’t real. Tita could not live out her dreams, because of fear. Fear of her mother and fear of what people would say and possibly fear of the unknown.

The paralyzing affect of fear keeps most people from taking the time to dig deep inside and discover what their dreams and passions are. Out of those few, even fewer act upon them. It is easier to conform to what everyone else says or thinks, or even to what is seen as socially acceptable. This is also, an easier life to live, but only if you can effectively squelch your dreams and passion. However, according to Laura Esquivel, no matter how much you try to ignore your dream or passion, it will eat away at you, making you utterly miserable and sick.

This is not living, but simply existing.

Everyday Heroes

Growing up with brothers and no sisters meant that when it came to movies, we usually watched what they preferred. They were all about cowboys and Indians, superheroes and bad guys. I was very familiar with the character of Zorro, but not this Zorro, the Americanized Zorro. He fought the bad guys, saved the people in distress, impressed and got the girl. Allende’s Zorro is a bit different from this Zorro. He still fights for justice, but his reasons/goals are not the same as the Americanized Zorro. In this graphic novel Zorro is given a past, a reason for being who he is. Knowing who and where Zorro came from makes his character easier to relate to, than simply a hero who comes out of nowhere.

Picking up a long book and seeing the pages upon pages of just words, is not daunting to me. I enjoy the challenge. Not only do I enjoy simply the entertainment of reading, but I also, enjoy seeing how different authors play with words and writing styles. I enjoy the challenge of creating and picturing the events in a story as I read it. I’ve never considered a graphic novel to be my “type” of reading. However, after reading this one, I would have to say that a graphic novel requires just as much out of the reader as pages upon pages of only words. There are not as many words, not even close, but that requires the reader to pay more attention to the details in the images and clues given in the few words.

“A picture is worth a thousand words.” Pictures are used all the time to get a point across. They evoke a response out of the observer. Francavilla is great at this. He plays with lighting, shading, distance, different image sizes, and location on the page to get the appropriate response from the reader. Picking one page of images to focus on was hard. I think my favorite images are the ones of Diego De La Vega as Zorro. Not to be too vague. In each section, there are so many details. Zorro himself, however, is a bit vague, almost giving the impression that anyone can be Zorro. I know people who criticize the idea of a superhero, saying that it’s just too unrealistic. I would disagree. Everyone can be a hero to someone, even if we don’t know it. To be a hero one does not have to be this idealized person the whole world knows. Princeton University defines it as a “champion: someone who fights for a cause.” Hey, anyone can do that. It doesn’t have to be grand or glorious; it can be small and seemingly insignificant.

My mother has lived through hell on earth. The older I get, the more I learn of what she has been through and the more she amazes me. She is my hero, always has been and for many, many years did not know this. I have never met anyone quite like her and to be honest she baffles me at times. Throughout my life she has taught me how important it is to forgive and love. She has taught me that it doesn’t matter what people do to you or say about you. This was done through her words, but mostly I learned this through her actions. She was a champion, a champion for her kids. She fought for us to have as normal a life as she could give us. She fought to give us everything she could. She fought to teach us to be good, kind, loving, and forgiving people. She is the “Zorro” in my life. She never gave up or quit, no matter how bad it got.

Destroying Ignorance

(Forewarning... This is not exactly a light and cheerful read. I debated on changing and doing something else for a while, but decided to go ahead with it.)

A young woman walks down the street. She is wearing a short, tight red dress. The dress, though simple, does not conceal much. The wind blows and one can see her shiver so slightly. It is entirely too chilly out for such apparel. On her feet are shoes that are flashy with high stiletto heels and straps that crisscross halfway up her calves. On her face is a moderate amount of make-up. She appears to be in her early 20’s. Her hair is beautifully curled. She is thin, but not too thin. One glance and you would think that she could be a model, but the circumstances lead one to assume the worst about her.

A car drives past; the passengers look out at her. They stare, giving disapproving looks. Immediately a word comes to the mind of each person, without saying they all know what the other is thinking. The car continues on by. “Shameful! It’s just shameful, that woman standing there on the street selling her body.” “How could someone do that to themselves?” “She must have no respect for herself.” Just a few of the many comments made. The passengers make jokes and continue to talk about how sad it is, but within a short time the prostitute is forgotten and the passengers go about their lives.

However, stop and take a closer look and you will see something entirely different, the truth that the passengers of the car couldn’t see because of their ignorance. This ignorance is not because they knew the truth and intentionally ignored it, but because they did not know there was a truth to be found. Carefully and cautiously look around and you will find another person, a man or woman. Watch them for a time and you will see that they are watching, watching every move the girl makes. They remain a safe distance away, so as to not be associated with the girl; however, they never leave or stay too far away.

Now stop and look into the face, the eyes, of the young girl and you will see exhaustion, fear, and nothingness. She has been robbed of life. Wash the girl’s hair and let it be natural, take off the make-up, give her a t-shirt and sweats, and you will find under all that there is a terrified little girl of just 14. This young child is not a prostitute. Nor is she on the street of her own choosing; she has been sold as a slave. The careful overseer is her owner, never letting her out of his/her site. She knows the overseer is nearby and the sheer terror of their presence keeps her moving, keeps her from running away; she is held within his grasp, his control. The ignorance of the passengers in the car, prevents them from seeing and understanding the harsh reality of the fate of the young girl standing on the corner.

In the stories we have read by Borges, there is a great deal of ignorance displayed, which always seems to win. The main character, in “The Garden of Forking Paths,” Yu was sent on a mission by the Germans. However, his reasons for going on this mission and his determination in completing it had nothing to do with a loyalty to the Germans. Yu was trying to prove that he was just as good as any German. In trying to prove his worth, he destroyed the life of an innocent man, Stephen Albert. Not just any innocent man, but the man who had brilliantly worked to uncover the mysterious writings of Yu’s ancestor and spent time telling Yu about his discoveries.

In the story “The Gospel According to Mark,” Borges writes about this never ending battle between right and wrong. Baltasar Espinosa is portrayed as goodness. He is a nice guy and was kind to the Gutre family, who represented wrong. The Gutre family mocked him and eventually sacrificed Espinosa in an attempt to make the water recede. In their ignorance, the Gutre family misinterpreted the story of the crucifixion. According to the old practices of their family’s heritage, they needed to make a sacrifice to make the waters go down. I found this to be very interesting on my second time through the story, because it says that the Gutre family was not religious at all. So, why would they be so concerned with the old religious practices of their family? In the Bible, the story of the crucifixion was to show the depth of love that God had for people; it was the ultimate sacrifice, dying for another. The Gutre family, in their ignorance trivialized this event and assumed that they would be forgiven if they crucified Espinosa. They missed the point of the sacrifice.

“Emma Zunz” was a slightly different story. Emma was an innocent, quiet, and sweet girl. Her life seems to have been overcome with shame. First her father had been falsely accused and imprisoned. Then he committed suicide. She seeks justice against the man who was at fault. In doing so she endures a horrific experience, so as to justify her killing of Lowenthal. After this point, Emma is forced to live in two realities. One where she and she alone knows the truth of everything and the other is the one that she told the world. Everyone around her remains ignorant of her deep sorrow, agony, and sense of shame. Not only are they ignorant of her shame, but they also remain ignorant of what Lowenthal had done. Lowenthal, even though his name was destroyed by her accusation, did not endure any shame himself. Emma, however, must continue to live with the shame of her father’s “guilt,” his suicide, and her own shame.

Ignorance is very powerful. It can affect every aspect of our lives, our choices and the words we speak. The truth can change everything. Borges seems to be making the point that people often prefer to remain ignorant. Being ignorant can often be easier. In our day and age, education seems to be such an important thing. We talk about it and make policies regarding it all the time, but too often fail to actually do it. Borges shows a rather exaggerated, view of what can happen when we choose to remain ignorant. People and their lives were/are destroyed because of ignorance.

“What you don’t know won’t kill you.” But will it kill you to know? “Ignorance is bliss.” Or does it just make you look like a fool? So, go out, read Borges’ and be changed. Educate yourself and learn as much as you can.

Living in a Box of Limitations

Judgment is a rather harsh word, however we all practice it every day of our lives, whether we want to admit to it or not. When we walk into a room of people there are immediate judgments passed. Judgment is passed on the room, the décor or lack of it. Upon first meeting we assume things about people based on their appearance; their clothing or “sense of style,” shoes, hairstyle, cleanliness, how attractive they are or not, etc... We decide if the person is “cool” or “our type of person.” If our assumptions are positive we may sit near them or speak to them, if negative we may avoid them. However, in the end it may turn out that the person who was not “cool” is actually someone we would enjoy having a conversation with and the person we deemed “cool” is a drone.

In the two stories we read by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, he very pointedly makes fun of this aspect of human nature. In “The Handsomest Drowned Man in the World” the people are so obsessed with this corpse that their conceptions of reality are thrown out the window, so to speak. At first it is simply the women who are overtaken by this idea they have created in their own heads. The men are annoyed with them and all the trouble they are causing, however, they were quickly drawn into this false sense of reality. “...the women kept piling on their junk relics, running back and forth, stumbling, while they released in sighs what they did not in tears, so that the men finally exploded with since when has there ever been such a fuss over a drifting corpse, a drowned nobody, a piece of cold Wednesday meat. One of the women, mortified by so much lack of care, then removed the handkerchief from the dead man’s face and the men were left breathless too. He was Esteban. It was not necessary to repeat it for them to recognize him... There was so much truth in his manner that even the most mistrustful men, the ones who felt the bitterness of endless nights at sea fearing that their women would tire of dreaming about them and begin to dream of drowned men...” A dead man is washed upon shore, he is different than most the men in the village, and within a short time he becomes an invasion into their fantasies. A whole life is created for this “piece of cold Wednesday meat.”

Marquez mocks the fact that we can take one tiny insignificant thing and blow it up into something so huge and ridiculous and completely unrealistic. Having a vivid imagination is not a bad thing. However, when it becomes a fantasy world that we live in, issues begin to arise. Our view of what actually is reality becomes more and more blurred until we live our daily lives as if this fantasy world we’ve created is real. There are many reasons people do this, some do it for “legitimate” reasons. A child who lives in constant fear and horrible abuse may allow themselves to create a fantasy world where they are loved and free from harm, this fantasy world may give them the ability to survive from one day to the next. But others do it because they no longer like the reality they live in, so they create something else, something more interesting or exciting, or simply to just run away.

Marriage is an institution that should be taken very seriously. It should not be entered into carelessly or thoughtlessly. Unfortunately today people want what they want and they want it now. Marriage is easily entered into and exited. The idea of marriage or getting married is so romanticized and idealized, but the reality of it is rarely addressed. Prince Charming and Cinderella are not real. They are fantasies that we create in our minds, fantasies that will never come to life. When I was younger, I remember a girl I knew had made this list of things she wanted in the guy she married someday. After she showed it to me, she asked me what mine was. I was baffled. We were 12 maybe 13. How could she know all of that??? We were still kids. Was there something wrong with me, that I didn't know all of that? Sadly, real life never works out quite the way we picture it in our fantasies.

In the second story, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings,” the people are horrified, mystified, and captivated by this strange creature that came to be in their lives. They caged it up, threw food or more like trash to it, they poked it, laughed at it, and paid money to see it, but refused to believe it to be an angel. Why couldn’t this creature have been an angel? Well, “he did not understand the language of God or know how to greet His ministers... he was too much human: he had an unbearable smell of the outdoors, the back side of his wings was strewn with parasites and his main feathers had been mistreated by terrestrial winds...” But most importantly this creature could not be an angel because “nothing about him measured up to the proud dignity of angels.” Who is to say what an angel looks like? Who is to say what the “language of God” is? Who is to say how one is to greet their ministers? The people had allowed themselves to be put into a box of limitations. They lived their lives and made their assumptions based on what someone else told them.

People are constantly creating these “boxes of limitations.” We stereotype everything. Woman? Well, they love chocolate, shopping, shoes, clothes, etc... and hate dirt or bugs or being outside. Men? They love being outside and doing “manly” things, playing sports, working on cars, etc... Me? Upon first glance, I may seem to be very girlie and "fragile," for lack of a better word. I have fancy handwriting and truly do enjoy cooking. However, appearances can be quite deceiving. I strongly dislike, not hate, just strongly dislike, chocolate. I passionately hate shopping. I only have as many shoes as are absolutely necessary; sneakers, chucks, and flip flops can be worn with everything, right?! Cloths oh shoot me! Why do I need 700 shirts and 300 pairs of jeans? (small exaggeration) If I were given the option I would prefer to go outside and run around in the woods, climbing over logs and wading through creeks or go hiking. Mud and bugs? They don’t bother me. Is this typical? Who cares, forcing ourselves to live inside a box of limitations keeps us from seeing what is really around us. Not only does it limit our vision, but it stunts our growth as individual human beings and we force ourselves to live by someone else’s standard of life.

Julio Cortázar

When the word “hypocrisy” is brought up, there is this immediate aversive reaction. No one wants to be accused of being a hypocrite. However, in our daily lives it seems to be everywhere. When one asks the question “How are you?” the typically acceptable response is “I’m good.” We do not simply say the words “I’m good,” we put on a smile and force ourselves to fake-it-till-it’s-real, or at least convincing. For some strange reason it is no longer acceptable to be real. Not to say that we should wear our emotions on our sleeves or tell everyone we meet of all our troubles. However, what is wrong with saying “Eh. I’m having a rough day.”? Nothing more must be said, no details are required to be given and the other person need not feel awkward, as if the answering party just shared in confidence with them some deep, dark secret. They need only to share a sincere smile or some encouraging word, to let the other know that they care enough to try and make their day better, even if only in some small way. Instead, we give the acceptable answer and move on to talk about something as emotionless and mundane as the weather. Faking the desire to actually care about another individual has become the norm.

In Julio Cortázar’s short story “Our Demeanor at Wakes,” he depicts a family who does just this. They are tired of the hypocrisy around them, so they decide to “fake it” better than everyone else. They attend a funeral and are so convincing in their mourning that they completely take over the funeral. Not only do they fool everyone around them, but at times it seems they themselves are so caught up in it, that they begin to believe the lie they have started to spin. In the end, they walk off silently and emotionless, not caring about the possible repercussions of their actions. The longer they faked it, the harder it became to discern between what was real and what was simply made up.

The story “The Continuity of Parks,” is an excellent example of “creating my own reality.” There seems to be this need for the man, in this story, to finish his novel. He becomes so absorbed in it that he does not see striking the similarities to his own life. One can’t say for certain, but maybe his wife was having an affair. Perhaps he knew and was trying to escape from his own reality with the book.

The imagination is a very powerful thing. It allows us, for a brief moment, to escape into an alternate reality; one where we do not have to think about or deal with the mundane or demanding reality we live in. This is not always a bad thing, having a mental break from life can be very beneficial for an individual’s sanity. However, when that alternate reality that we dive into starts to become our reality, is when there is a problem; saying it so “black and white” makes it sound so ridiculous and unrealistic. Yet, it is so easy to do. Our fake-it-till-it’s-real or at least convincing life style is very conducive to running away from our reality.

On the flip side is the story “Axolotl,” by Julio Cortázar. There is a man, who becomes obsessed and very passionate about suffering of the axolotl at the aquarium. He says “they were suffering, every fiber of my body reached toward that stifled pain, that stiff torment at the bottom of the tank. They were lying in wait for something; a remote dominion destroyed an age of liberty when the world had been that of the axolotls. Not possible that such a terrible expression which was attaining the overthrow of that forced blankness on their stone faces should carry any message other than one of pain, proof of that eternal sentence, of that liquid hell they were undergoing.” There is an element of empathy this man feels for the axolotl, but he does nothing for them. He does not seek to alleviate any of their suffering, nor does he try to change himself.

All in all, I would say these three stories can give a rather depressing view of our human condition. We are hypocritical and lie to each other and ourselves. Sometimes we try to see or feel things from another’s point of view, but really we are just creating our own little worlds that fit with what makes “me” feel better. Yes. That is a very depressing view on humans. However, there is also the idea that these can be taken as warnings. People can change. Empathy is a good place to start, but we cannot change our hypocritical behaviors and become real, unless we are first willing to do something.

Popol Vuh: The Dawn of Life Response

As I was reading the first few chapters of Popol Vuh, I had to stop often and go back to reread, checking to make sure that I had just read correctly, and indeed I had. Once I made it through all five chapters, I went back and reread the whole thing a few times. I had a hard time taking it seriously. It all seemed soooo... so preposterous. So, illogical. The gods decided to make humans out of animals? Then mud? Next wood? And the failed wooden people who managed to escape the gods death punishments are now monkeys? Then there is the seeming shock the gods experienced over the fact that none of their attempts worked. Two questions came to mind... Why would these people be so proud of their gods, when everything they did was a complete failure? And if their gods messed up all the time, what makes them any different than you or me?

I have no answers to either of my questions, but to explain where my train of thought is coming from... Growing up I have always been that person who thought everything all the way through. I like good, solid facts. I like logic and logical reasoning. And when something didn't fall in any of those categories I either pushed it away and wouldn't think about it or just totally rejected it. My brothers always tell me that not everyone thinks the way I do, and what to me, may appear to be ridiculous, does not always appear that way to everyone. Not to say that having an imagination is bad, but I like my line between what is real and what is not. Imagination has its place. Things that don't fit into my idea of reality get filed under "fake."

No matter how many times I read the chapters, it still seems very odd and a bit ridiculous to me. I found myself thinking very critically, that it was just stupid. However, I stopped for a minute and thought about what I believe. Not all of it is totally logical and to some people it may seem very illogical and ridiculous, having very little solid, factual basis. Someone could very easily look at me and say what I believe is ridiculous and stupid.

Overall, I really enjoyed reading these few chapters. And find it very interesting that no matter where you go or what people group you learn about they all seem to share similar ideas. Ideas such as greed, pride, and lying being wrong. As well as, a belief system being important, whether it be a specific religion or not.