A Stranger's Diary

My name is unimportant. I write for myself. Guess who's the stranger.

[writingsforwinter]

for twenty-year-olds who have never been loved

All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a lover’s sweater or “forgotten” it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like they’re both having a separate anxiety attack.

This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth?

The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is “wondering what it’s like to meet someone like you,” and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-‘em-up drug, and they’re just about ready to inject it into someone else’s bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen.

At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and you’d still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else’s hands were on your waist, someone else’s eyes boring into yours.

Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day you’re going to hit the point where you’re so desperate for human contact that you’re going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk.

But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that you’ve done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting.

The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, they’re looking for a lover too. They’re what you might call a soulmate.

They think they’re all alone in feeling the way they do, but you’re really both two halves of a whole.

And one day you’ll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and you’ll make one.

[eternallyyouth]

Never before has a post on here actually made me deep-cry. It took me like 10 minutes to read this damn thing because I had to keep stopping

[hi-jimmy-blog]

Tuesday Evening

It’s a very unusual feeling, waking up to a bunch of strangers telling you they’re ‘proud of you’. Similar, I imagine, to being a hospital patient who’s just survived groundbreaking but risky surgery. A face transplant or something. It’s like ‘yeah this is great and nice, and thanks, but who are you? And did the face go on ok?' 

I’m talking about the reaction to my ‘on being gay’ video, which actually, on second thoughts, is in no way similar to surgery, facial or otherwise. For those who haven’t seen it, you can watch here, but in a nutshell - after making videos on YouTube for the past eight years, last Tuesday evening I decided to tell my 86 thousand subscribers I was gay. With noodles in my teeth and terrible hair. 

I mean, if there was anything to be nervous about it was the reaction to that. Don’t do a coming out video with a shiny forehead - everyone knows they get loads of views. Just look at Ingrid Nilson, she knows. She did a full on cry and everything, but still looked hot and well lit. (I jest. Her lighting wasn’t that great). 

Despite my below-usual-standard appearance, the grainy webcam and the lack of any planning, the reaction to that video was unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Scrolling down my @relpies the following morning in bed, bleary eyed was… bewildering. In a completely lovely way, of course. Within 8 hours of upload I’d received hundreds of tweets, comments and emails expressing support. It was like I’d woken up as Alfie Deyes, minus the jaw, Zoella and money. I’m not a particularly emotional person (certainly not before 9 am), but I felt so moved by all the kind words. Surreal, special, inspiring. Thank you. 

(Warning. This next bit is where it gets cheesy. I’ll try and put jokes in but I’m on a bus, and I have a hard time making funny on public transport) 

Thank you not just for showing love to me, but for showing your acceptance and support publicly. For showing the people watching that video who are struggling that there is love and tolerance. That coming out can be ok, and that people will love and be proud of you. 

Coming to terms with my sexuality has been a long road. The video I made last week was unplanned. Like a surprise burp, I don’t know where it came from. One minute I was sat watching 24 Hours in A&E, the next it was there. All existing and stuff. I saw Shane’s video and decided I had something to say, so I said it.  It’s a video that at the time I felt I’d made for others, and not at all for myself. It was only later I realised how important ‘telling YouTube’ was to me. 

For a start, it’s strengthened the relationship I have with my viewers. It’s made me feel more honest. There are no longer touchy subjects or places I feel I can’t venture. I can make jokes about hand jobs without being told I’m ‘mocking the gays’ (I have genuinely been reprimanded for this in the past). It’s shown me that opening up is an important thing. It’s how we bond. It’s how relationships are formed. I’m a closed person generally, but it’s made me realise I should probably be more open in all aspects of life. (Within reason of course. I’m not gonna sit here and tell you about the diarrhoea I’ve had for the past three days. (there’s a joke for you; enjoy that)). 

It’s been said many times that coming out does’t happen just once. You don’t stand on a box, shout it out, then retreat to live in rainbow tinted bliss. It’s a constantly recurring process, like a shit motif. Whenever I meet someone new I’m thinking, 'right, when do I tell them I have a boyfriend. When do I slip that shocker in. How will they react? Do I even need to tell them? Maybe i won’t tell them and we’ll work together for three years and then they’ll find out when I’m drunk and it’ll be weird’. It’s bullshit. It’s bullshit, but it’s the way it is. Upon making ‘on being gay’; the video I never thought i’d make, and never thought I wanted or needed to make, I’ve seen that generally people are good, and they respect you for opening up, and the vulnerability associated with that. It’s something I need to do more. 

In the video, I say I’m 'comfortable with my sexuality now’, but that’s not entirely true. I mean, I’m loads better than I was, but I still have my anxieties, my paranoia. I find coming out to strangers excruciating. I can’t hold my boyfriends hand in public; not because he doesn’t exist or hates me, but because I’m scared of what people think. Still. (Also, there’s the fear of getting beaten up). 

The few hate comments I received, and there really were only a few, remind me that coming out is hard for a reason. It’s not because we like being dramatic. It’s because we live in a homophobic/biphobic/transphobic world. Ask a child what being gay is: they’ll probably reply that it’s a barbed playground taunt, or the butt of a joke. 

Although attitudes have changed recently being gay still isn’t seen as normal, is it? It’s still the ‘other’. If it really wasn’t a big deal, my video would’t have got four times the number of views a regular upload does. I don’t know how to fix that. I hope that it’s changing. Coming out to a supportive online fan base isn’t a usual or particularly relatable thing; it’s a process that’s different for everyone. But I hope though that by opening up, people can in some way take solace from my experience. That they can see, while I’m still not all the way there, I’m happy. 

Thank you for reaffirming that. Thank you for the support. And to the people reading this who are unsure, struggling and self loathing, let me say this: you’re not alone. It gets better. It honestly does. 

  … 

Ok, getting off bus now. I probably won’t mention this again for a while, not unless I have something good to add, anyway. This isn’t like, my 'thing’ now. And don’t worry, banality will resume on my channel with the same old shit from me. Did somebody say ’tape face challenge’?!

[diariodeundesconocido]

fuck this. i feel like this right now. today. march 1st 2015. 10:35 pm. in bed.

i hate my body. i hate the way it looks in the mirror. im exercising and its not working. im not where i want to be yet.

im overworked. im doing community service and i love it but its a drain. im sorry. i feel guilty about that. entirely.

the fucking other thing is overworking me too. but thats almost over. just gotta hold on. i should be free by the end of the month. scratch that i will be free by the end of the month. just gotta hang in there.

i always have shit to do. cant take weekends off anymore. gotta do so much. but its al gonna be worth it. korea is so close. just gotta hang in there.

fuck i felt like dying but then that thought went away. i still got shit to look forward to. i cant lose sight of it. cuz if i do nothings gonna stop me. gotta keep positive. gotta keep thinking about the future. gotta keep knowing that its all gonna be worth it.

i want it to be spring. i want it all to be done. i need spring. winter has fucked me over. this year has been too trying already.

i need to come out. i need to be free. why cant i be free. why do i have to cover up. i need freedom. i deserve it. fuck it when will i get it. when can i free myself. why cant i free myself yet. come on dude fucking do it already. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck.

gotta read. wanna read. but dont have the time. gotta read so many books. wanna read so many stories. but time is so little. never enough time. always got something to do. always got reminders. always got tasks. no free time. not at all. fuck this. fuck it all. i just wanna lay in bed for a day. but i cant. i gotta get up. gotta work through it all. cant let people down. cant let myself down. gotta push through.

gotta keep getting out of bed. gotta keep working. itll all be worth it. just gotta wait it out. gotta be patient. gotta keep it real. gotta keep smiling. itll all be worth it. it better be fucking worth it. i need it to be fucking worth it. i need it to be. fuck. fuck. fuck.

cant give up now. i cant. gotta keep pushing. gotta keep at it. dont stop. dont stop. dont stop. if you stop you die. if you stop it ends. if you stop nothing will come true. if you stop it aint worth it. dont stop. dont stop. dont stop. dont die. dont give up. keep going. keep giving a fuck. keep doing the work. fight the good fight. keep at it. dont stop. dont stop. dont stop. keep doing it. just smile. keep doing it. almost over. you can do it. dont stop. dont stop. dont stop. you can do it. please. just do it. i know you can. you can do it. dont stop. dont sleep. dont stop. dont die. dont give up. you can do it. come on now. do it. do it. keep doing it. you can do it. keep going keep going keep going dont stop dont stop dont stop dont stop dontstop dont stopo donst stopopkiopj.

dont stop.

[diariodeundesconocido]

titles are optional, aren't they?

Well, look who dropped the ball? I should write more often here but sometimes its hard to find the time or the words to succinctly articulate existence. Furthermore, reading back on some old posts makes my cheeks burn red at the sheer embarrassment. Though it feels like second-hand embarrassment because it feels like that person is no longer here. How things change, right?

So far, I think I'm going to try my best to update this as constantly as possible. I understand the difficulty of that but I really shouldn't go into 2015 empty handed. Funny how people mostly think of December as a time of Christmas but to me it just means the last hurdle before New Year's Day and the wonderful feeling one gets with a blank slate. Even if it isn't really a new beginning because all the baggage you carry from one year to the next --hell, from one day to another-- just doesn't go away when the arbitrary measure of time suddenly says "goodbye".

I've been rereading fan-fiction, by the way, which isn't healthy. Not that I have any problems with it, per se, but it's just really difficult to get it out of my head and it makes my heart sink a little. Never a good idea to compare reality to fiction but sometimes it's hard to stop. So here I am waiting for the stories to seep beyond the cold computer screen and flood the real world and I'm laughing at how pathetic that sounds.

I mean how desperate do I sound right now?

Haven't eaten all day today and its like past noon but I don't feel hungry. Fortunately, that's one the few things I have going for me: I don't really do emotional eating. Which is great because I really couldn't afford to keep that habit up at any moment.

So this is me, signing off, pretending someone else is reading this, though I really hope not. I always sound so fatigued and, well, like a loser. As if my life were pure misery and all I had to look forward to was a cheap beer in a park at night. 

Honestly, I'm good. I feel good. Just the sudden pang of emotion that inevitably comes from writing. Seriously, is this what all writers, amateur or professional feel when they put words to paper (or in this case screen)? Because, if so, I completely understand why they end up offing themselves after a while. 

Writing is unbearably emotional. It's like all of a sudden all those introspective thoughts become tangible and it all becomes too real to bear and it feels like the lock placed on the soul suddenly shatters from the pressure and you're left leaking unadulterated, heightened sensations that don't go away until you push yourself back and stop before all of this overwhelms and you end up drowning in a pool of your own, mystified misery and, god forbid, nostalgia.

I'm stepping away now. But I'll be back, hopefully. It's like a drug, innit? 

[diariodeundesconocido]

stop. please.

I don't fall for someone very often. I don't allow myself to crush on someone. I'm good at repressing feelings. But, on occasion, someone will escape this trap. It's happened before and it will probably happen again but I don't like it.

I don't like feeling trapped in my own mind. I don't like feeling two extremes, stuck between excitement and joy when I see him and loneliness and anxiety when he's not around. I don't like "looking for clues" to see if he likes me back. I don't like having crushes because they mess with me. I have a system and a routine and it works for me. 

But one boy, all of a sudden, made my brain explode and I can't let go. I can't do this anymore. I don't fall very often but when I do I fall hard.

I'm falling and I don't want to anymore. Make it stop. Please.

[diariodeundesconocido]

AHDKJLAHKFHKALH;DFLKA

Fuck it, I'm in crush. I can't help it. I can't stop thinking about it. He's always on my mind. When I go to sleep he's there in my thoughts. When I listen to those songs I love, I start to think of him. I can't shake this feeling off. He's great and darn funny. He's shy but, at times, quite outgoing. He complains and he says stupid things but none of that matters because I like him. 

I like the idea of him. That's what crushes are. An idea. But the great thing about ideas is they can turn into reality. They can become concrete with some effort and, by all means, some reciprocity.

So here I am, tired and about to go to bed and I'm writing this because of him and I can't really get him out of my head. I wanna take that risk.

But fuck that cliff is way up high. It's a leap. I'm afraid of falling down and breaking every bone. It's happened before, so history tells me to fucking stop. Common sense and death tell me to just fucking do it because life is too short for regrets and what ifs and should haves. 

I like to think I'm confident and he makes me weak to my knees. I get nervous just in front of him and yet I could talk to a fucking full audience. He makes me write shit on tumblr when I can barely think of things to write about. He's an inspiration for my thoughts when my brain is dry.

Fuck, crushes are hard. They're fucking extreme, always at one end of bliss and despair. Poignant is what they are. Beautifully sad. Or tragically happy. I don't know. But he makes me write so I guess they can't be too bad, can they?

[diariodeundesconocido]

LGBTQ+ Rights, MUN, and Mexico

August 24, 2014 - Metepec, Mexico

I finished up the background guides for my next Model United Nations conference and I'm slightly concerned. Granted, they're among the worst things I've ever written (with multiple uses of word "often") but they'll do. What has me twitching with anxiety is not so much the style, but the content. The two topics deal with immigration and LGBT rights, respectively. It's the second that worries me.

I live in a country where political correctness (PC) is non-existent. We don't have conversations about race, religion, gender identity, feminism, sexual orientation, or oppression. You could make the case about poverty being a national headline every day, but the arguments are often cyclical and doused in political rhetoric to the point where nothing gets done to alleviate the struggle of those who have nothing.

Whilst PC may not exist, this may not be so terrible if its antithesis weren't so omnipresent. Take the example of humor. A joke in Mexico will often come at the expense of someone else. Add a dash of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, or classism to the mix and you got yourself a culture that tends to thrive on its collective ability or perception to "not give a shit".

Because, after all, if you do spout any form of protest against this system you'll be drowning in a sea of "why are you sensitive" and "it's only a joke". Or my personal favorite "words only carry meaning if you let them".

So back to MUN. I'm afraid of delegates touching upon the subject of LGBT rights. This is an opportunity for young people (presumably mostly heterosexual) to learn something new about a marginalized group. But how can I possibly go against centuries of conditioning that culminate, at best with "Gay marriage will make everyone equal" and at worst with "Let's burn them all and send them to hell"?

Naturally, the delegates will discuss the issue taking up the ideological mantle of their assigned nations. But what if the delegate of Saudi Arabia stands up in front of everyone and condemns LGBT rights as an affront against his values? How can I differentiate a fake, theatrical position of intolerance with an organic, real position of intolerance?

What happens when a delegate is homophobic or transphobic and uses his country as a platform to spew his own twisted views?

I'm not emotionally or mentally prepared to take on the barrage of inevitable homophobia that will come during the conference. After all, I am opening up the flood gates. But this is chance to make some tangible change. This is a great opportunity to teach young minds about the struggles of the LGBT community and to teach them about gender identity and sexual orientation. This is an opportunity to discuss LGBT issues at a macro level whilst providing change a micro level. 

But what if it doesn't work? What if no one leaves the sessions enlightened, but more fervently ingrained in their own prejudices?

But what if it does work? What if everyone suddenly becomes empathetic to the plight of the LGBT community and many new allies are created?

I don't know the answer and that's what frightens me the most.

[diariodeundesconocido]

Forgot a Title, Oops

Wow, the last entry on this page was dated a week ago. Quite frankly, I'm a bit disappointed with my lack of continuity. It's rather difficult to handle real life and then come back at the end of the day, tired and beaten down or elated and exalted, to write about one's experiences. But, I'm back so I might as well attempt to not break the chain.

Let's go through a checklist of four separate concepts in order to structure this post:

1) Physically: I am aching. I did Pilates for the first time today and I am sore. My abdomen is definitely inflamed, my legs are like jello, and my butt feels numb. But it's a good pain, which is an unusual thing to type, let alone think. It feels refreshing to be able to enjoy exercise without fear or concern or anxiety about how I look or what I'm doing. I just decided to have fun with it and it worked! I can't wait for tomorrow's class.

2) Emotionally: I have nothing to complain about. I've been dealing sporadically with internal monologues on loneliness and the inevitable dissatisfaction stemming from not being in a relationship but the frequency of these thoughts is surprisingly reduced, especially when compared to some months ago or a couple of years back. I'm making progress, so that's a plus!

3) Intellectually: I am learning so much in my classes. My marketing class, in particular, is oddly insightful. Its concepts apply to many other facets of finance and business and psychology and history and it is so interesting to see the relationships between concepts spread throughout different courses. I am really satisfied.

4) Spiritually: Yeah, it's been a while since I lay in bed and thought about morality. Probably, because I do it wide awake now. I think about injustice and social justice and sociology very often. I've become very good at relating real world experiences with my own values and how strong these have become. I can feel myself slowly molding into a person who is more open-minded, less judgmental, more critical, and, most importantly, free. I feel different about a lot of things. I don't tolerate bullshit as easily as I once did. I'm different. I can feel it.

All in all, this semester at university has given me a lot to think about and a lot to do. But I am taking it all in with as much patience and grace as I can and the results seems rather evident.

Today, I can say I am quite satisfied. Maybe not happy or joyous, but definitely content with how things are rolling. I hope they keep getting better.

[diariodeundesconocido]

First Time I've Left a Title for Last

August 12, 2014 - Distrito Federal, Mexico

I'm writing this as I sit in a very comfortable chair. Like, really. It's so soft and yet it supports my back in just the right way. Not many people around me. Library is still closed, though. That's why I'm here chilling in cozy chair.

Couple of things on my mind. First, the hangover from the first day back to class. Junior year so far starting out well enough. Lots of changes to the administration. Not particularly thrilled about those, though. However, I did see my friends again, and my classes are interesting, and the professors are fascinating and intelligent, so all in all I'm definitely looking forward to how this semester plays out.

Robin Williams died yesterday. That wasn't fun. Haven't really felt the emotional pang that comes from losing someone you never met. But others, at least from what I see on Tumblr really admired him and enjoyed his acting, and humor, and comedic genius. And that sucks that many have lost a childhood hero; an idol.

All in all, this is one of those days where I'm just not sure how I feel. I'm just trying to take a step forward and move on with all the other things surrounding my life. 

I'm tired and it's raining. I'm just feeling pure, unadulterated feelings. Still have to assimilate it all. And give these feeling definition.

Tired. At least I got that one figure out.

[diariodeundesconocido]

Del Arte y Otros Demonios

August 9, 2014 - Metepec, Mexico

This blog's catalyst came from a friend who started his own. He even bought a domain name and shit. Anywho, today he wrote about art, specifically:

"Why do people go to Art Museums?"

His opinions were insightful and quite clear: most of us go to art museums, and museums in general, because we are obligated to. He concluded that while many of us may enjoy these places we should stop holding them up as beacons of enlightenment requiring your undivided attention. Simply put, museums aren't for everyone and that's OK.

Personally, I never found museums to be an obligation, not even when they were destinations for a school field trip. Museums have always fascinated me; they hold an unusual magic. But, hey, not everyone is like me, right?

Well, I'm not so sure about that.

Museums are more than just buildings with vast collections of art or artifacts or relics. They are our shared history. Art museums within their walls carry the weight of humanity's artistic development throughout the ages. Natural History and Science museums hold the evidence that sustain the conclusions we have reached about our world and universe. Museums are our clearest window into our accomplishments; they are the Halls of Fame of Humanity.

I know a lot of people don't enjoy museums but to me that's akin to not liking music or oxygen. What needs to change is the way people approach museums. It should not be a chore, but, in many ways, being forced to go to one, at least on your first, several tries is helpful. Think of it as teaching young children to enjoy reading.

Going to a museum should be a personal experience. Even when going in groups, people should split up and explore at their own pace. They should make discoveries of their own. Museums as points of interest in cities are perfect for this very reason. Don't like contemporary art or don't understand it? Well then visit the Natural History Museum or the Air and Space Museum or the Anthropology Museum or the Classic Arts Museum or any of the other vast categories of museums. There are so many beautiful spaces to explore and discover and it's a pity that many feel obligated to enjoy them.

People should go to museums (whatever type they may be) because they want to. But they should also always give them a try before knocking them. It's a disservice to our past to simply ignore museums and their wonders. All it takes is a little push and you are off; ready to swim about in worlds you never knew existed and places you never even dreamed about.

Museums are theater, cinema, music, art, history, anthropology, archaeology, physics, chemistry, biology, anatomy, et al. Museums are temples; an adoration by and for human beings.

My friend ended his blog on this note:

"Museums have to stop being an obligation and start being a pleasure. They're really aren't for everyone, and we'd all benefit if we stopped pretending they were."

To which I respond: Yes! Museums should stop being an obligation and start being a pleasure. But they are for everyone. All you have to do is look hard enough and learn how to enjoy yourself. Practice makes perfect, so go out there and binge-explore on museums. You'll find pleasure in them in no time!

[diariodeundesconocido]

Entre el Suelo y el Cielo, Mi Cielo

August 8, 2014 - Metepec, Mexico

In a couple of days I'll go back to uni. I'm excited, to be quite honest. I've always liked going back to class, no matter the level; be it, Elementary, Middle School, High School, or beyond. It's fun to see faces I sporadically spotted throughout the summer, only this time continuously.

As such, I went shopping for notebooks today. I like notebooks. They're better than binder because pages get lost easily; they're quite fragile. Notebooks, on the other hand, are sturdy, they last quite a while, and finding them after an extended period of time is always an occasion for spontaneous bursts of joy, nostalgia, and loss. 

I'm quite anxious, though, about going back to routine. Partly because I have to wake up early every fucking day again and that definitely puts a dent on my emotional stability and well-being. I'm an afternoon-to-dawn kind of guy. Mornings punish me.

But the real crux behind my anxiety rests on the unknown, as per usual. I don't know what this semester will hold and what adventures I'll have. But my concern is that I won't have any adventures. My greatest fear is missing out on something, anything, for whatever reason. I don't like thinking I've wasted time. Especially when we're talking about long periods of time like semesters or years - hell, even a fucking month!

The problem is that I don't know what to do. What can I possibly create in order for me to feel satisfied? How can I achieve true satisfaction over time well-spent? What is time well-spent?

I want to be able to do great things but I'm not sure what those things are. And that's the not only demon stirring inside.

I'm also anxious about that one tiny, little thing scurrying along my soul, nagging at my heart, and cluttering my brain with frustration, anxiety, fear, and hopelessness.

I'm not sure I can muster up the courage of being proud of who I am, yet. Now don't get me wrong, I'm pretty damn good with the facade; you bet your ass I'm an expert. But inside I'm eating myself up and the food is running out. I feel time is running out. I'm pressuring myself to meet a deadline that does not exist and yet I can't help but feel dictated by its tightening grip. The imaginary clock is ticking and the bomb is about to explode.

But I don't want to it to explode. Fuck, I don't even want to have this bomb at all. It's baggage and it's heavy. I can't calculate it, or give it dimensions or look at it through the lenses of reason or logic. It's purely emotional. It's purely a construct of my own insecurities coming together to hurt me as much as they possibly can. Yet, the answer does not lie with me, but with others. With those whose entire existence I could not live without and even though it's been fine so far I can't help but feel a little queasy whenever I stop and analyze the different scenarios that could play out when that unstoppable bomb finally detonates.

I'm not ready. I want time to stop. I don't want to turn back time; I just want time to come to a complete halt. To let the seconds dry up. I want an empty river, no longer flowing, just waiting for me to break the dam and let its course continue.

So yeah, I'm anxious. I'm concerned. I'm not sure what to do. I have mornings, uncertainty, and oblivion to look forward to. But then again, so does everyone else so I think I can manage. Hell, I've done well enough so far along, I think I can hold on and beat this. Just a matter of time.

[diariodeundesconocido]

Thoughts from Places: Cancún

August 7, 2014 - Metepec, Mexico

Last Saturday, August 2, I traveled to Cancún for the first time in my life. My expectations were reasonable: I sought after warm weather, kind people, and lots of sunshine and green spaces. I found them all. 

However, something bugged me. Cancún is a fairly new city having been created in 1970. It was designed to be a tourist attraction and it has lived up to its potential. So much so, that Cancún International Airport is the second largest airport in Mexico in terms of air traffic, the first being Benito Juarez International (Mexico City). And I learned all this after on my way back.

Being part-Mexican, I expected Cancún to have its own history, traditions, people, and culture. Boy, was I wrong. Cancún is too young for any of these things. I made the mistake of imagining the city to be similar to Acapulco. It definitely is not. 

Cancún represents an unusual creation. It is designed to allure international tourists to a beautiful and exotic locale as well as inundating them with shrill, cold stereotypes of Mexican culture. By all means, Cancún is both the most and the least Mexican place on Earth.

Mexican food (tacos, cochinita pibil, enchiladas, chilaquiles), drinks (tequila, mezcal), music (ranchera), and even clothing are all present in Cancún. The problem is that they reek of in-authenticity. However, the tourists don't seem to mind. They revel in delight of these one-dimensional Mexicanisms as they explore Mayan ruins, sunbathe on the beach, and dance in the clubs. 

Visiting Cancún is a wonderful idea and I highly recommend it. But it is by no means an accurate representation of Mexico. Hell, it's barely a representation of Mexico at all. Cancún tries desperately to offer an experience that embodies Mexico and fails spectacularly. The omnipresent, somehow ominous, fluency in English throughout the city really nails the coffin shut.

As a hotel employee told me, "No one is from Cancún". And it makes total sense. Again, the city is too young. The first generation of Cancunenses are only starting to blossom. But it's not enough. Cancún is beautiful. It really is. But it is not Mexico. 

Cancún has no culture of its own. It has no music of its own. It has no traditions of its own. Cancún is an isolated chamber of Mexicanisms coming together to create a fictional, unilateral representation of Mexico. it is both beautiful and disturbing.

I want to go back. There are so many things I have to do in Cancún. So many adventures to have and more stories to tell. But next time, I'll go with a clean conscience, fully anticipating the reality of its existence. 

Cancún just is. It does not think. It does not grow. It does not love. It does not breathe. Cancún without its hotels, clubs, and airport behaved the same way it does now with all of its wonders.

The only difference: people.