Before I start, I must apologize for the shitty layout that I created. This was my rough draft and I got too lazy to revise. My apologies.
Soooo...
When I was a junior in high school my English teacher thought I was smart. This became apparent when we were given an assignment which required us to read a book and analyze the shit out of it (my words, not his). We were able to use a book we chose as long as he approved it. I had an idea about the type of book I wanted but my teacher handed me a book to read, telling me, "I think that you are mature enough to understand this book."
"Other Voices, Other Rooms" by Truman Capote was a hugely popular book when it was released. When my teacher handed me the book, I looked at the faded cover, the yellowish pages, and the weird picture of Mr. Capote on the back and thought, "This might be boring."
I read the book, but with my eyes and not my mind or heart. I understood the concept, but I didn't really understand. Naturally, this was school work and I procrastinated because I thought I was so fucking smart, but I got the job done. I wrote my report and got an A-/B+ because I got it, but didn't quite get it. On my cover page my teacher scribble down, "Good job. You should read this again when you get older."
Ever since then I felt some sort of guilt for two reasons: one, I kept on forgetting to return the book, and two, I felt I didn't really live up to my "hype." But the thing was, I never felt that smart. If I don't feel that smart, how can I pursue anything?
Anyway, about a month or two ago, in one of my cleaning phases, I cleaned out an old filing cabinet. Way in the back, pushed under some crushed folders, I find the book and my crumpled report. I felt like I owed it to myself to reread this book and see what it was about. At first I thought, damn, I am just "regular" -- I have no new thoughts on this book! After I got over the panic I realized something, I did get it now.
I knew it had "weird" people, homosexuality, etc., but the thing is, I never put all the facts together. What we have in common with these odd people is the search for love and the loneliness that accompanies it. Sometimes the love we have doesn't fit what people think we should feel and we all can hear "other voices" and enter "other rooms." In our own ways, we can be the "weird" people. We judge others for different reasons, but at the root, we all know the journey that love takes us through. There's so much I missed the first time around because I didn't really read it. Now I know.
"The brain may take advice, but not the heart, and love having no geography, knows no boundaries: weight and sink it deep, no matter, it will rise and find the surface: and why not? any love is natural and beautiful that lies within a person's nature; only hypocrites would hold a man responsible for what he loves, emotional illiterates and those of righteous envy, who, in their agitated concern, mistake so frequently the arrow pointing to heaven for the one that leads to hell." |
