Yes… I am back and for some reason I feel like writing here. This time is different, though. I don´t want to complain, I am so tired of it. Especially in a country like this one where you can complain about… everything. I said that this time is different because (unlike the last time I came to Venezuela) I really wanted to come back, I felt tired, bored and off. For some reason I felt that my ‘self’ was leaving me in the USA, somewhere over the rainbow I missed the “American dream”.
I thought that it was my fault… you see, I’ve been taught that, regardless of the place, we are who we are and we can always be happy, if we want. I still believe it, but damn it is harder in some places than in others. There are amazing people in the United States, but somehow all the relationships that I’ve had with them have been so flat and superficial… I know that there is more in them to discover but it is SO hard. I suppose that this is how being a foreigner feels like? Maybe this is just how life at Kenyon happens to be, or maybe I was the one flat and superficial. I had an enjoyable but extremely hard semester that destroyed my social life and I learned a lot about many things, but more than anything I learned to appreciate my free time. My life shouldn’t fit in a calendar anymore.
Venezuela feels again like home. I know that my imagination is contributing to make me feel that I do belong here… but I think I do. And there is an intrinsic need to belong somewhere that cannot be ignored. I just can’t keep on convincing myself that the tight that unites us to our nation is not real. Yes, it is irrational and a product of our imaginations and educations… but it is real. These Latin Americans that can’t listen to music without dancing, that take advantage of everything (and everyone), that arrive late to almost every appointment or date… I mean, my house is orange and my neighboors’ house is yellow! I’ve had troubles to see many of my friends because we just can’t fix an appointment because our lives can’t fit a calendar, and it’s fine! We can’t plan when we will feel like talking to our friends… nobody can! I’ve seen them in the most random times and places, and I loved it.
This chaos, this mess that Venezuelans seem to be… feels like real. I mean, isn’t the world an organized chaos? What’s the cost of civilizing a society like this one? Progress scares me after being in civilized countries in which spontaneity and true passions are so hard to find… places where most of people do not longer seem to believe in anything… not even in love. I feel that, for the past year, I’ve had the same conversation over and over again. At the US I’ve seen Nietzsche’s last man winking at me.
Sometimes I wish that all this spontaneity and craziness that I love wouldn’t be the main cause of us sinking our country, and that the cost of an attempt to perfection wouldn’t be to lose our innocence. Nothing is left but to wish… and that is already so much.
This feels like home. I wish I didn’t have to run away from here.