Autobiography Assignment

Autobiography Assignment

The assignment was to write an autobiography. He knew what that was, he understands it. But his curiosity went further and searched the word in a dictionary. Autobiography: A biography of a person written by that person. Biography: An account of the series of events making up a person's life.

Thursday 12, January 2006.
Yesterday: A teacher will receive a bunch of home works and his first thought is going to be: “reading all of them is a waste of time”. Time: it is presented to us as events, perceptions that get lost; soon forgotten in time itself. We, in time, get lost. He who thinks that wastes time is lost inside something that is already lost. That thought will soon fade away, replaced by something else. The teacher will then take those papers, read them one by one.
In the classroom, Oscar will try to picture his autobiography in some other way, differently than what he had done, he will whisper to the air: “I can't think of a better way to present an autobiography, what I did is fine.” But that thought will lead to another... The question “Why am I here?” will be his mind; and when that mind gets hit by a question, it doesn't stop, he over analyzes and a series of images flashed into his mind: First the high school from Monterrey, Mexico; then the university he got into but left after a month because he didn't liked it; and finally he saw himself as a child, filming everything in his house. These words will come to mind: “Is this what I wanted to do since I was a child? Well... maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but right now it is the best choice I've got and well, here I am at the Creative Writing Class, thinking what to think on so the anxiety can go away.”
Anxiety: this word comes from the German language; it means to feel metaphysical entrapment, as if the choices narrowed down into just something that cannot be avoided; the inevitable. This anxiety started a long time ago, it was just as the feeling of incompletion, as if something is missing... it then evolved and became something permanent, he needs to be busy: thinking, doing a homework, working, reading, writing, just doing something.

To do: actions=distractions. Every action proofs a lack of something; he lacks a job: he goes to Full Sail. He lacks tranquility, he takes a relaxant. And his mind knows this, unconsciously, because he has read about it in philosopher’s writings. Julio Cortázar wrote about it decades ago; Arthur Schopenhauer centuries ago; and probably some ancient civilizations knew about it millenniums ago.

Today: Oscar still does not know if his paper has been read. He will not think about that, time will take him automatically to the answer. Maybe tomorrow he will know.

Friday 6, January 2006.
The man entered a room filled with young individuals, he doesn’t know them, he looks at them and he is unable to avoid the influence that those looks cause. More than forty eyes targeting his being, they steal all of his light; absorb every color and also every action. He talks about how to write creatively. Those young, still doubtful teens get filled with motivation. Motivation: Is it just an illusion? When that man showed a game he created to the class, Oscar could only remember when he was in kinder garden and the teacher would make fun of things so kids could remember them, for instance: The Alphabet, she would draw an A with hands, feet and even some eyes. This would make children familiarize with the letter as something human, attractive and happy.

The teacher comes back into the room and says: “Your homework is to write an autobiography.” Some students open their laptops and write that down, other open notebooks and use a pen to do the same thing.

Saturday 7, January 2006.
After the Behavioral Science class, Oscar slept. When he woke up and the computer screen was on, it reminded him about an assignment he had to do. He then sat in front of the computer and began writing. He stared at the blank page and waited, and then he realized that waiting was useless, the paper could not be written by itself. It had to be done by him.

He thought: “Not even I know the series of events that made up my life. I don't think there is someone who does. But as far as I know...”[kc2] And then he began writing. What styles of writing could he use? Could he try and confuse the teacher using dates without a chronological order? Trying was worth it; of course he knew the teacher is smart and couldn't be tricked. The teacher would figure the structure of the idea after reading the second paragraph to then feel comfortable about Oscar’s psychological health, to know that he understands the student, to rest assured that the mind of that particular student has the talent to do well in class. Of course Oscar could do better. But, Could he really? If he could... then why doesn't he? The anxiety kicks him in the back, reminding him about every potential thing he could do but does not. That is the thought that triggers the anxiety since he was in high school. [kc3]

Monday 9, January 2006.
Using a mouse Oscar moves the cursor in the screen over a green button lying at the lower left corner of the screen and clicked. After a few clicks, his assignment appears. As he begins typing the cell phone rings. He answers.

-Hey, how are you doing so far? -came out from the speaker, it is the voice of a woman that Oscar can easily recognize.
-I'm doing great, school is good, I just get bored once in a while when I'm at the apartment because I don't like watching T.V. and I haven't been able to read anything because my mind is so focused on Full Sail that anything else just distracts me. -he says, being as honest as he can be.
-Are you coming home for your birthday? I don't want you to be there all alone; you could do a party in here. -his mother asks.
-Well, spring break is close; I could just go at that break and do a party before my birthday.
-That's a good idea, but May the 2nd is not so close to the dates of spring break.
-It doesn't really matter.
-That's all I wanted to ask... well, I'll call you tomorrow, bye.

The incomplete assignment is just there, his eyes could detect it. The sound of typing continues for a while but then he selects the whole text and presses the backspace key. Everything is gone. Start from cero, again. He wants to be creative, but where could he get inspiration? His eyes turn into a picture he has over a desk. In the picture there is a collage of Oscar's hobbies, in the upper left side you see him dressed with a martial arts uniform playing the piano, at the side its him at the computer, then below there is him with his girlfriend and on the other side there is picture of him with all of his friends. He recalls the time when he was living in Freiburg, Germany; and used to look at the same picture in a different desk. The image of that same picture came to his mind at a different desk, in Edmonton, Canada. Where is home?He felt lost and confused in Germany and Canada; but not in Orlando.


Friday 2, May 1986.
-His name will be Oscar. -said a man with a deep voice who had just become a father.

Friday 2, October 2093.
No body knows who Oscar is, the teacher has been also forgotten, and every character in this autobiography is now dead. Life goes on, nobody cares. What was presented to us as events, perceptions that got lost; were forgotten in time itself. We, in time, got lost.
He who thinks that wastes time is lost inside something that is already lost.