Beginning

I don’t know why but for some reason I’ve always had a problem with beginnings. Like time, it seems unclear and many times arbitrary where one chooses to put a start and an end to things. At any rate, most things need to begin somewhere or at least be titled or indicated as such in order for that which unfolds to make sense.

So, this is the beginning of my blog. I wanted to “begin” reflecting or at least recording some of the reflections that I find interesting. There is no good reason for why I want to do this, other than perhaps my own desire to take a picture of things that have no beginnings or ends but rather are a part of this life that is continuous, erratic, and full of possibilities, limitations, and most of all contradictions.

I’ve always enjoyed journaling. It began for me at the age of ten or eleven when I began reading Judy Blume books such as “Are you there god, it’s me Margaret.” I remember spending night after night recording memories, snippets of my days such as “I eat gravy for lunch, it was grows.” When I go back and read some of the things I recorded, I can’t help but laugh or cry. I’ve always been a melancolica. I’m guilty of holding on to useless notebooks and reminders of things from my past. No se porque, but it’s a habit I don’t find a reason to abandon.

My old journals are filled with grammatical mistakes, spanglish entries, typos, and doodles. And it is these ‘errors’ that most accurately capture who I was and whom I was becoming. I realize now that there is something to be said or understood from what one chooses to talk about, from the stories one remembers, or the memories one chooses to recollect.

I’m hoping that in this blog I can continue to record these little remnants of my soon to be past so that one day I can look back, reflect, laugh, cry, and perhaps learn a little more than I know now about life and how I chose to situate myself within it.