Without a Home

How do you know when you're home?
"Home is where your heart is," they say, but what if my heart lies in different places? Do I not have a home or do I have multiple ones?
I've lived half of my life here and half there. I don't like not knowing where I belong. I feel so happy when I'm in one place or the other, but I feel like an outsider in both. When people ask me where I'm from, I never know what to say.
This is something I wish to fix. I want to be able to go and not miss it here. I want that wave of nostalgia that rushes over me as soon as I visit my first home to go away.

Movie Review- The Science of Sleep

There are only a couple of movies that I find truly unique, and The Science of Sleep, a strange but heartwarming French film, has been recently added to that list. The plot follows Stephane, a young man who was raised in Mexico and just had his father die of cancer. His mom tells him she has found him a creative job back in France, where she lives, and asks him to move in with her. In hopes of putting his artistic skills to use, he gives in to his mother's wishes and later finds that his job actually consists of cutting and pasting boring formats in calendars. The peculiar thing about Stephane is that he has very vivid imagination and often finds himself mixing up his dreams with reality. We repeatedly see his action packed dreams express his feelings for the outside world, especially when he finds himself falling in love with his almost equally peculiar neighbor.

If it wasn't for the constant changing of languages throughout the movie (english and french are spoken the most, but there is also some spanish thrown in), I think audiences of all ages would find themselves enjoying this movie, but for different reasons. Children would obviously love the colors and imagery in Stephane's dream sequences, and the older audiences would enjoy the charm and humor of the movie. Stephan in particular is a very likable character portraying childish and awkward characteristics that most of us can relate to.

For the Children

I believe the true joy of Christmas lies within children. As the holidays approach and my time in high school zooms by faster than ever, I have started to think back on my Christmases as a child. How I wish I could go back to when Santa was the most exciting person in my life, back when I was stressing over whether to ask for the Polly Pocket Mansion or the Barbie Summer House, rather than whether to major in architecture or engineering, or even what college to go to. Those were the good times, before the family fights, when my dad didn't refuse to spend Christmas with us at my mom's parents' place. Before my brother had moved to Canada and we'd got to see him for more than just two days over the Winter break. I enjoyed this time of the year so much more when I was younger.

I grew up in Mexico, so Winter was full of parties that are tradition in our culture. Posadas were one of my favorite ones; there was food, hot cocoa, singing, a ceramic pinata in the shape of a star, and friends and family all having a good time. One thing that makes Christmas time different in Mexico than in many other countries, is that the excitement of the season doesn't end on the 25th, or even on New Year's Day. Children anticipate the Dia de los Reyes, the Day of the Kings, because it is on this day that an extra bundle of gifts awaits them. We are told that the three kings deliver these presents to our houses in the middle of the night (like Santa), just as they delivered their presents for baby Jesus after he was born. We would wake in the morning of January 7th and run to find out what we got. It was tradition that the presents from the kings never topped Santa's, but it's not like we cared. A toy and someone to play with is all it takes to make a kid happy.

Memories of one's childhood usually get jumbled up and pieces get lost, but there is one part of a time when I was in the second grade that I remember clearly. I had a very peculiar old lady for a teacher, she was from Spain and I liked the way that she pronounced things. A couple of days before we got out for Christmas break, she came into the class and sat down all jolly looking. She said "Today I have something very special to tell you all, and something even better to show you." The voices in the room got gradually louder as we wondered what she was going to talk about. After she finally settled, my teacher smiled at us and placed a very pretty box on top of her desk, about the size of one that shoes come in. Everyone stopped talking and without the need for her to say anything, our attention was fully directed at her.

"I bet you're all excited about Christmas right now, aren't you?" she started. " You know, children, I was very much like you when I was young. I couldn't wait for Santa to come during the night, but I always missed the chance to see him, so I would wait for the three kings to come so that maybe I would get to meet them. Year after year, unfortunately, I would be too tired and fall asleep before I saw them. But then came a very special year, one that I will remember for as long as I live. It was the night of January 6th, when the kings were expected to arrive. I was about seven years old and already fast asleep in my bed. All of a sudden I heard a thump and some shushing noises outside my room. The kings! I thought to myself, jumping out of bed and into the living room. I spotted the presents on the floor with their shiny wrapping, but I couldn't see anyone. I heard a strong wind coming in from the window at the end of a hallway, but I knew that we always left our windows closed at night. I ran as fast as I could towards what was the biggest window in the house, and I was able to make out a short, chubby man jumping out of it, with a ripping noise as he disappeared from my view. I finally got to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the kings leaving, but when I looked down there was no one. I hadn't even heard them land, no thuds or ouches, nothing. I looked at the railing from the window, and there was a piece of cloth caught on it. I looked around again and when I was sure the kings had gone, I unhooked the cloth and took it back to my room. I've kept it with me ever since. Do you all want to see it?"

The whole class yelled with excitement, "Yes, yes! Please let us see it!" My teacher opened the box she'd laid on her desk at the beginning of class. She took out a dark piece of cloth and said, "I had never held anything so magical in my hands before this. I'll pass it around and you can take a closer look." It was a pitch black, smooth silk cloth with a hint of purple in it, it shone with sparkles and smelled wonderful! Everyone was astounded. We were actually holding something that belonged to the kings!

It took me a couple of years to realize how crazy this sounded, to see how easily we'd been fooled. It is people like my second grade teacher that keep the holiday spirit going year after year. So what if I'd been lied to? There aren't very many grown ups who use their imagination this way for the sake of children, you know. When I was young, I used to be disappointed that there were so many people dressed up as Santa during Christmas time, none of them were ever the real deal. I appreciate what they do though now, because instead of just a bunch of people pretending to be fakes, they're a bunch of people putting smiles on children's faces.