Alex J. Wunrow
September 12, 2008
Pre-face: a creative writing sample that I used during the College application process.
"I have recurring nightmares—that I was loved for who I am. What more can I, nor any other man for that matter, fear more than a woman loving him for the true fiend that inhabits us all. Maybe I am just scared by the way she glances at me from across the room, causing riots deep within, rummaging up emotions I never imagined existed. Is it the way our lack of embrace makes me yearn for the agony of loss just so I may experience the pure ecstasy while it had lasted? Does her complete disdain for me evoke the passion that most couples desire long beyond their lifetimes?
“Why doesn't she see me? I hate her!...and how she can glide through a room without drawing any attention to herself, yet have the eyes of every person there. Can she speak? I cannot once recall hearing her talk. Or is it possible that she transcends communication, and is able to obtain everything simply through her presence? Perhaps she isn't real, and I have just been torturing myself with the suggestion that she is there. How can something that isn't even there stir my emotions in such a way? She has forgotten who I am. She must have—with the way she faintly appears, always seeming to be just beyond reach. Why does she always seem to tease me with the idea of being loved? How can I allow it? Could it be possible that our time has already run out, long before it even began?
“It has.”
Thursday, July 16, 2009
The Mole Essay
Alex J. Wunrow
May 28, 2009
On Race
I look in the mirror, and I see a white boy (mostly because I look very white). Even though I’m a mutt—half white, and half Mexican—and I honestly couldn’t tell you how little a difference it has made in my life. While growing up in Southern California I ran into my fair share of diversity—Blacks, Whites, Mexicans, Asians, Indians, WOPS—it took me twelve years to notice that my best friend from my childhood was Mexican. Some would say that means I’m an idiot, however, I believe it’s more so the fact that I don’t give a damn about race. Growing up I never really paid attention to it, but it was impossible not to notice race when with my Grandmother. My Mother’s side of the family—the Montoyas—is very Hispanic, and growing up I was aware of that. It may have been the fact that every time I would visit my grandmother she always made chips, salsa, rice, beans, fajitas, and offered me cigarettes with a side of whiskey. Or it may have been that she had a painting of The Last Supper hanging over her kitchen door, accompanied by her novellas humming in the background. Whatever it was, I could tell. When I was with my Mom’s side of the family I was Mexican, and when I was with my Dad’s side of the family I was White—it’s just the way it is.
On the schoolyard, kids would jokingly state that I “must be good at hopping fences,” while at the same time they would jokingly state that the black kids “must be good at basketball.” These things were funny, because in most cases they were actually true. The best basketball players were always Black, and the best fence-hoppers were always Mexican. Coincidentally the most blatantly racist kids tended to be white. They got away with it because it was seen as humor, and everyone would laugh together, hiding the minor frustration that the jokes had inflicted. Why people go about things in such a back-handed way is vexing. Differences seem to give people the right to insult each other just as long as it is ended with a somewhat noticeable “I’m kiddinggggggggg[sic].”
People are different. But don’t tell that to anyone, because you are likely to be dismissed and belittled as a racist. When in reality, it is really the people who take offense to the subtle differences, that create them, because, differences are simply made from the different opportunities that we provide each other. A Mexican with two day-worker parents in all likeliness is either going to become a day-worker or move on to acquire another bottom end job. Thus, creating more angst, frustration, jealously, and hate against others who are so different, simply from being born into a better situation.
People are generally born the same, with a few advantages or disadvantages mixed in between, however, society does not see race this way. It—society—sees race as the ultimate discrepancy. The thing that makes us different, the thing that makes coexisting impossible. And why should it be possible? The lowest race on the spectrum is currently a tie between the low-income Blacks, and the no-income Mexicans. Both have been put into their respective situations by a combination of poor opportunity, and repression. Both are stuck inside of communities where progress is impossible, and getting out is even more so. And rather than channeling all their anger, and frustration with the system, and fighting the government for better opportunities, they take it out on each other, only lowering public opinion of them, thus forcing the government to turn a blind eye and say that it is a hopeless situation—the ghetto is broke.
Without the opportunity to better each other the ghetto will always exist. Accompanied by all the frustration and hate that comes along with it. Why is there a ghetto? Why must people always be struggling? Well the answer is simple. There is always going to be a bottom. The only thing that can change is how low the bottom is. People can either be roaming the streets begging for scraps, or our government can attempt to make a decent education possible for everyone—as opposed to teaching the middle class how to stay in the middle, and the rich how to be richer—and reach out, and take the time to realize that people are different, but not by much. People are so afraid to acknowledge the things that make us different from one another. So much so that people seem to forget that at our core, we are human beings. That’s it. That’s all. People see the subtle differences and give them too much bearing. Rather than seeing each other as different individuals, we sit blindly and ignore it, only making things awkward, which then rises to create tension and strife. What at first is a miniscule difference suddenly has become something worth hating each other over.
During my freshman year of high school, there was an organized walk-out in protest of a new proposition that would go to great lengths to send all illegal immigrants back to Mexico. The proposition would split up families, taking parents away from their children—the children having been born in the states, thus making them legal citizens—and destroying California’s farming industry. The proposition was just on its face, but unjust in its application. This caused a stir within the school, as there were kids who would lose their parents because of the proposition. Which lead to the peaceful protest; I had arrived at school that day to see a crowd of 500 Mexicans all crowded around one girl standing on a picnic bench. She had called them there by doing nothing more than simply standing up and asking for them to listen, and they did. She led them out of school, walking to city hall. Bravery can be found everywhere, regardless of race. What was witnessed that day was not a collection of Mexicans fighting to stay in the country that they so cherished, but a collective group of human beings standing up, and stating that they too need be heard. It raised the question: would you do the same in that given situation? Honestly? Probably. I feel that everyone would have done the same, which goes back to everyone being pretty much the same. When the circumstances are dire, everyone reverts back to human. Standing up and stating your case isn’t selfish. Acknowledging the subtle differences that make us who we are isn’t racist. Speaking your mind isn’t idiotic. And if it is than damn it I’m an idiotic, selfish, racist. There isn’t any shame in it. It isn’t worth being awkward and uptight about. Because the awkward tension that ignorance creates is what drives people to hating each other. It is ignoring the small differences that creates the monumental divide that seemingly separates us all.
May 28, 2009
On Race
I look in the mirror, and I see a white boy (mostly because I look very white). Even though I’m a mutt—half white, and half Mexican—and I honestly couldn’t tell you how little a difference it has made in my life. While growing up in Southern California I ran into my fair share of diversity—Blacks, Whites, Mexicans, Asians, Indians, WOPS—it took me twelve years to notice that my best friend from my childhood was Mexican. Some would say that means I’m an idiot, however, I believe it’s more so the fact that I don’t give a damn about race. Growing up I never really paid attention to it, but it was impossible not to notice race when with my Grandmother. My Mother’s side of the family—the Montoyas—is very Hispanic, and growing up I was aware of that. It may have been the fact that every time I would visit my grandmother she always made chips, salsa, rice, beans, fajitas, and offered me cigarettes with a side of whiskey. Or it may have been that she had a painting of The Last Supper hanging over her kitchen door, accompanied by her novellas humming in the background. Whatever it was, I could tell. When I was with my Mom’s side of the family I was Mexican, and when I was with my Dad’s side of the family I was White—it’s just the way it is.
On the schoolyard, kids would jokingly state that I “must be good at hopping fences,” while at the same time they would jokingly state that the black kids “must be good at basketball.” These things were funny, because in most cases they were actually true. The best basketball players were always Black, and the best fence-hoppers were always Mexican. Coincidentally the most blatantly racist kids tended to be white. They got away with it because it was seen as humor, and everyone would laugh together, hiding the minor frustration that the jokes had inflicted. Why people go about things in such a back-handed way is vexing. Differences seem to give people the right to insult each other just as long as it is ended with a somewhat noticeable “I’m kiddinggggggggg[sic].”
People are different. But don’t tell that to anyone, because you are likely to be dismissed and belittled as a racist. When in reality, it is really the people who take offense to the subtle differences, that create them, because, differences are simply made from the different opportunities that we provide each other. A Mexican with two day-worker parents in all likeliness is either going to become a day-worker or move on to acquire another bottom end job. Thus, creating more angst, frustration, jealously, and hate against others who are so different, simply from being born into a better situation.
People are generally born the same, with a few advantages or disadvantages mixed in between, however, society does not see race this way. It—society—sees race as the ultimate discrepancy. The thing that makes us different, the thing that makes coexisting impossible. And why should it be possible? The lowest race on the spectrum is currently a tie between the low-income Blacks, and the no-income Mexicans. Both have been put into their respective situations by a combination of poor opportunity, and repression. Both are stuck inside of communities where progress is impossible, and getting out is even more so. And rather than channeling all their anger, and frustration with the system, and fighting the government for better opportunities, they take it out on each other, only lowering public opinion of them, thus forcing the government to turn a blind eye and say that it is a hopeless situation—the ghetto is broke.
Without the opportunity to better each other the ghetto will always exist. Accompanied by all the frustration and hate that comes along with it. Why is there a ghetto? Why must people always be struggling? Well the answer is simple. There is always going to be a bottom. The only thing that can change is how low the bottom is. People can either be roaming the streets begging for scraps, or our government can attempt to make a decent education possible for everyone—as opposed to teaching the middle class how to stay in the middle, and the rich how to be richer—and reach out, and take the time to realize that people are different, but not by much. People are so afraid to acknowledge the things that make us different from one another. So much so that people seem to forget that at our core, we are human beings. That’s it. That’s all. People see the subtle differences and give them too much bearing. Rather than seeing each other as different individuals, we sit blindly and ignore it, only making things awkward, which then rises to create tension and strife. What at first is a miniscule difference suddenly has become something worth hating each other over.
During my freshman year of high school, there was an organized walk-out in protest of a new proposition that would go to great lengths to send all illegal immigrants back to Mexico. The proposition would split up families, taking parents away from their children—the children having been born in the states, thus making them legal citizens—and destroying California’s farming industry. The proposition was just on its face, but unjust in its application. This caused a stir within the school, as there were kids who would lose their parents because of the proposition. Which lead to the peaceful protest; I had arrived at school that day to see a crowd of 500 Mexicans all crowded around one girl standing on a picnic bench. She had called them there by doing nothing more than simply standing up and asking for them to listen, and they did. She led them out of school, walking to city hall. Bravery can be found everywhere, regardless of race. What was witnessed that day was not a collection of Mexicans fighting to stay in the country that they so cherished, but a collective group of human beings standing up, and stating that they too need be heard. It raised the question: would you do the same in that given situation? Honestly? Probably. I feel that everyone would have done the same, which goes back to everyone being pretty much the same. When the circumstances are dire, everyone reverts back to human. Standing up and stating your case isn’t selfish. Acknowledging the subtle differences that make us who we are isn’t racist. Speaking your mind isn’t idiotic. And if it is than damn it I’m an idiotic, selfish, racist. There isn’t any shame in it. It isn’t worth being awkward and uptight about. Because the awkward tension that ignorance creates is what drives people to hating each other. It is ignoring the small differences that creates the monumental divide that seemingly separates us all.
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