Saturday, June 25, 2011

Can't Talk about That.

I used to keep notebooks, journals, lists.
Now, I blog.
I blog to talk about what I don't talk about anywhere else.

Yet, when I sit to write here, on this page, to begin to  explore, talk about or allow my thoughts  to freely surface to a conscious level, I stop and stumble and get carried to other topics in no time. Curious, isn't it?
I feel that I have knowledge of myself and the  faraway place where I reside in my dreams, the  state of longing that doesn't appear often in the daytime.

Estranged from a homeland, from a mother tongue, from the patrimony of centuries, for me, the immigrant, the orphan, the out-of-place-you-sound-sofunny-whereareyoufrom, for me. these are the very things that want to surface and be witnessed. Yet, I can't talk about them.
There is a great big weight on  my shoulders that i can't put down.  I tried. I really did. And by writing a few stories, I thought I had expurgated and dug up the roots of my disquietude.

We all have these things we can't talk about.
We all shut down the very things that distinguish us.


  1. "We all shut down the very things that distinguish us." That's a lot to think about.
    I think many of us this feeling of not being in the right place, even though we may have stayed at "home" all our lives. Yet, I cannot imagine how it must be to leave a country behind.

  2. You are so correct, Rosaria. In our heads it is those things we can't talk about that seem to isolate us. Yet, in my interactions with others, it is especially when someone dares to talk about the unspeakable that I feel most connected to the person. Authenticity is the best gift we have to offer...but it takes courage.

  3. Yes, rosaria, I fear that we do "shut down what distinguishes us." You have so eloquently described that feeling--the dispossession, the disconnection, the "disquietude." The weight of it. Please don't give up. You are already saying what the rest of us cannot.

  4. Your observations are so true and hit home with me. I often times feel that no one would ever be interested in what distinguishes me thus I keep them in my own head. As usual, I enjoyed today's blog.

  5. ohhhh, we can shut them down, are in the habit of it, but we don't have to.

    let's turn down the lights. perhaps turn them right off. it's late at night and i can't see you. tell me then. perhaps there's a fire. perhaps a candle. maybe only the moon. tell me then. tell me. you're only in a night shirt, rosaria. you're already mostly naked. you've got nothing to fear, nothing to lose, and only yourself to gain. imagine. and what might i gain? a whole new world.

    you write the words that you sound different and intone the hurt that resides around this. and then this is what i know: i know that when i hear you or another and you are different, i am hopeful that we are not all the same.

    much love
    be brave
    i'm listening:)

  6. I can't imagine having left family, roots, an entire country behind. I'm still amazed at what a brave, strong person you are.

  7. As one who lives in your homeland, but as a stranger, and who hears your mother tongue lilting all around me while its deeper meanings evade me, I so resonate with this post. You are, of course, describing our condition as humans. You think it's because you're an immigrant but we all at times feel that disconnection from ourselves, our roots, our essential sense of place. Your feelings surface; I witness you and feel as kin. We are all this together. We call forth a new level of truth from each other. Thank you. I picture you and me on my balcony sharing about all this- please.

  8. Even though I am living in a country that almost speaks the same language and even though this is now the country I where I would choose to live, I am still the 'Stranger in a Strange Land'. It is the deep-rooted 'familiarity' and a kind of relief that I feel when I am back in the States and I think it is perhaps beyond words to describe. We lived in Munich for 5 years and I well remember the wonderful rush of suddenly being surrounded by my own language when I went home.

  9. I grew up here and just moved to a new place a few months back, and definitely am a stranger in a strange land
    I'm not sure what you meant with regard to disquietude, but you definitely have being pondering your words tonight.
    I am new to your blog and like it very much.

  10. Sigh... I, who have said to much in writing, said too little in life for too long. It is a conundrum, Rosaria. Speak. We are listening. You told your story. Some of your history. Now. Pour out your heart... There is such depth in your comments, I know there is much more to you than you have told.