Honors American Literature (B)

I would have never envisioned leaving home, I had lived in Brussels, Belgium for almost a decade. I was used to the way the cars dashed up and down the street beneath my window and mostly I was used to the cold gloomy mornings, often with a sprinkle of rain. That rain, even though cold, felt comforting as it hit and trickled down my skin. My life was very fundamental, just like the constant somber weather that defines Belgium. I had never thought of my life as interesting or different from the one of my peers and closest friends, but that was about to change. I was moving to another continent. Nowadays, I often think my experiences set me apart from others. 

Living in Belgium is all I had ever known and all I considered being in my extended future. The bus rides to elementary school, the fresh cold air that would send shivers down my spine in the winter, and the smell of delicious waffles or french fries at every corner would however, soon dissipate. My family wanted to be together, and even though my father had been away in Guinea Bissau for longer than I could remember, I dreaded the thought of changing schools and moving to another country to reconcile our family. 

Tunisia was Belgium’s polar opposite, a different climate and a different culture. My first memory is from when I exited the airport and was immediately hit with a wall of heat, a weather unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It was comparable to standing over a stovetop of boiling water as you anticipate for your meal to cook. The lack of colors in the environment was another striking feature of this new country. Everything was painted white or blue to control the heat which gave the place an unwelcoming and almost deserted feel. The only sense of comfort I obtained from Tunisia’s landscape was the mediterranean sea which seemed to be calm and comforting as the waves ondulated back and forth from shore along with the subtle, yet audible,  crash of the water on the wet sand. The cars no longer dashed up and down the street busily, the absence of this noise never accustomed me to the difference of environment. 

The only way to get to school were car rides, an unfamiliar contrast from the cold bus rides in Belgium. The car left my hair in a tangled mess with the hot air from the open windows. Small things like this gave me a sense of joy towards this place despite my biased opinion on my hometown. Everything was strange yet I felt like a new door had opened with opportunities. I took on a new life, just like my body pierced the surface of the new pool in my backyard. The pool very soon became my favorite place as it was one of the very few ways to escape the dry drenching heat of a Tunisian summer. Not only swimming became my passion, I also started playing tennis, dancing through hardwood floors on my pointe shoes and galloping through the Tunisian desert as I took on horse riding. 

“I took on a new life, just like my body pierced through the surface of the pool in my backyard.”

I had taken a place in a community unlike my own and made new connections, physical and psychological relating to my observations gathered on this new place and culture. Their language first intimidated me but as I became more familiar with Arabic I found beauty in the characters and how Tunisians scribed them on pieces of paper and road signs with great care and suppleness from left to right. The people there were friendly and gave me a greater sense of community, but visually they were different from the usual European stereotype to which I was accustomed. Women dressed themselves in burkas from head to toe despite the high temperature. Something about seeing the bright silky material drape from their bodies as though colors were dancing up and down the street gave the place character. The people filled in the monochrome blue and white streets and gave it life. Their complexion and features were very different from mine, but this did not set me apart from other kids at my school. It intrigued my ten year old mind, when it was just becoming more preoccupied with drawing more mature connections to elements of life. 

The period of my life in which I transitioned from one continent to another made me realize how alive I felt when creating new experiences and stepping out of a comfort zone. I had never heard that language before, I had never experienced that heat before, I had never felt like I did not belong; however, all of these experiences made my life more exciting. The sudden joy of living and beginning to understand my experiences is a defining moment of my transition from childhood to adulthood.

“Why do you talk so much,” they’d ask me while driving in the car. “Abby, I’ll give you a dollar for every minute that you’re silent.” These words were frustratedly spewed at me, like a raindrop hitting a windshield. When I was younger, these moments would seem funny to me. I was at the age when aggravating people seemed entertaining, not worrisome. As if poking the bear wouldn’t result in a bear attack. Nevertheless, I continued talking… and talking…and talking. And I never did get a dollar for the minutes I was quiet, usually because I couldn’t make it through a full minute. I never thought anything of it either; if I wanted to talk, I’d talk. It wasn’t until I stepped out of that protective wrap and into the age of awareness and anxiety, that I began to think a lot about my so-called “motormouth.” 

To this day, my parents and siblings often tell me that I talk too much. Whether it be talking about my day during dinner, or telling a story that takes twenty detours before getting to the final destination. “Take a breath,” people would tell me. Take a breath? I’d ask myself. I didn’t think I was running out of breaths. It took me a long time to realize that those words were their way of telling me to be quiet. Give me a second, is what they were secretly saying. As if their brain needed to prepare, as if they was about to jump off a cliff and needed time to compose themselves first. That’s what conversations with me were like for other people; a strenuous activity. I’ve trained myself to find the difference between those who find my enthusiasm grueling and those who don’t. Unfortunately, this exercise has also trained me to put a damper on my motormouth, like throwing a wet blanket over the flames of my personality. 

For this reason, meeting new people has always been a struggle for me. Do I throw that wet blanket on or let the fire burn? Usually, the wet blanket wins. The loss of that beautiful,  protective wrap has left me worrying what others will think of me if I were to let those flames fully burn. Very few people see my true self, my bonfire, while others only get a match or two. This is something I’m ashamed of; allowing other people’s reactions to determine who I am and how I act. Most of the time, I am accepting of my talkativeness. I wrap it around myself and hold it close, as if it were that same wrap I lost years ago. It stays like that until my training comes back and I notice someone’s uncomfortability around me, that’s when the new wrap begins to tear once again. The tear happens when I remember that I’m not supposed to be comfortable with myself if it means I’m causing discomfort to someone else. At least that’s what society trained me to think. As if I’m a cow who’s been trained to stay within the bounds of it’s farm, rather than roam in it’s fields. I wish to shatter that fence entirely. 

In my goal to be more accepting and unapologetic for my talkativeness, I’ve made my letter big and bright. Someone recently said to me, “take up space and don’t apologize for doing so.” This is what I strive to do. The sin this letter is meant to represent is not what I believe it to be. To me, this letter represents something to be proud of. It represents something I want to flourish. Now, when someone tells me I talk too much, I’ll only talk more. I will no longer throw a wet blanket over my flames or roam within my fence. My letter represents the burning of my blanket, the splintering of my fence and the igniting of my fire.

“I wish to shatter that fence entirely.”

A warm, furry bed and its caring mother’s rich, ivory white milk: this is all a baby needs. Its precious conscience and its insatiable thirst for power is not awake yet, but its curiosity will soon ring the bell. It will soon be exposed to wickedness, to indifference and to the deepest depths of the world. This angelic organism loses its goldest wealth: its innocence. It will fade away into a dirty, dusky hole, not willing to come back.

Everyone loses its innocence at some time. We all grow up and transform into adults. This change comes unexpectedly and can be very difficult for children. We appreciate and notice our innocence only when we have lost it already, but there is no way to earn it back. I lost mine by gaining knowledge about our world. It was a long process that was introduced by one unforgettable day in summer…

I loved to play in my family’s garden when I was younger. Just like Myop in Alice Walker’s short story `The Flowers´, I was enjoying my life one day picking up flowers in all the colors nature offers. I fished a drowning bee out of our shimmering pond. The sun was giving the sky some of its sweetest orange juice for breakfast while the wind was whistling a peaceful melody. My mom was watching me from the kitchen window of our red wine-colored brick house. A soft smile flitted across her face when she looked at me.

My cat was lying next to me in the fresh grass. Its fur was heated up by the sun. Its wasabi green eyes were filled with frankness and openness, just like mine. My cat was my best friend and one of the most charming, loveliest creatures alive. As it stood up and left the garden to discover the world, I was watching it without any fears or expectations.

A few minutes later, it came back while I was romping around. When I looked up I saw something in my cat’s face. There was something in its mouth, a bedraggled-looking thing. I came closer and could finally identify it: It was a little bird. My cat lay it down on the ground in front of me.

The bird was brown and ruffled; there was dirty blood on its feathers. It was the first time that my cat killed something. I did not understand how the most adorable living thing could have done this. And it did not seem to regret it at all. He just looked at me with his wet eyes that were becoming bigger and bigger. I stepped back when that beast was rubbing against my legs. My mom was not standing at the window anymore. The wind’s voice sounded rotten and the oranges suddenly tasted bitter.

On that day I realized that my cat is lead by its hungry instinct that can never be stopped. Humans have their conscience which should dominate us, but we also need our instinct to survive. I realized that everyone and everything instinctively strives for superiority, and that every human being has a greedy animal inside that will never be satisfied. This animal causes wars, crises and disharmony. It is impossible to get rid of it.

This realization hit my heart in its most sensible part. I started to understand the relentlessly working system of our ruthless world. In addition, I started to understand that our most precious but also most vulnerable gift is our humanity. My cat has killed numerous birds and mice since that day. I never blame it for doing that but it is still a painful punch right into my heart every time.

“Your conscience is the measure of the honesty of your selfishness.

Listen to it carefully.” 

― Richard Bach

All people on planet Earth have something in common. Sin is what makes us resemble each other. And it is also what makes us human. Absolutely all have been submerged in the fearful waters of sin. Some have even been drowning in sin, others have been saved, but no one is perfect, and I can assure you that we all commit some sin every day of our lives. By this I do not mean committing very strong sins like murder, adultery, or revenge, but I mean that we all commit at least one minor sin every day. It can be lies, pride, envy or in my case, overconfidence. You may be wondering, how is it possible that one of my biggest sins so far at my young age of 16, has been overconfidence.

Well, in view of the fact that I have a whole life ahead of me and I have not experienced many things until now, my greatest sin has been to open the interior of my being to others and to place my trust in various people. By this I do not mean that I have betrayed someone’s trust, but rather, I have trusted people so much that they have unfortunately hurt me in various ways. Now, why do I think this is a sin, if I do not considered confidence itself as a sin?

The answer is very simple; because it was my fault that I trusted the wrong people. Regardless of whether others have hurt me through betrayal, I was the one who opened the door to the sin of betrayal through my overconfidence towards some people.

Almost every time I have placed my trust in someone else, it has been counterproductive for me. I sincerely think that trust can be a double-edged sword, or it allows you to attack evil by opening your heart to others, or it is like a dagger that is buried deep in your heart.

Over time I have learned not to trust any word, smile, kiss, or hug, because people know how to pretend too well. Since I was little, I had placed my trust in almost everyone who was my friends, teachers and even some relatives.

But I realized that the trust of the innocent is the liar’s most useful tool. Just until a couple of months ago, I understood that distrust and caution are the parents of security. Well, after all the great disappointments that I have experienced because of being overconfident, I have learned to be more careful. However, although I have learned over time, trust is like a glass, once broken, it will never be the same no matter how hard you try to fix it. Or confidence is like paper, once it’s wrinkled, it can’t be perfect again.

That is just how my trust towards others has diminished. It is as if it were an eraser, it is spent with each mistake. And although I was not the one who betrayed the trust of the other, I was the one to blame for trusting the wrong people. If I had known from the beginning that trust is gained with a thousand acts and lost with one, then I would not have let multiple people hurt me for long. Because yes, unfortunately the same people who betrayed me when I was little, continued to betray me until a few months ago, when I finally put a stop to the trust I placed in others.

I always tried to find a pretext to cover up the dark truth, that someone had betrayed me. I suppose it was because I was afraid that some of the people, I loved the most had broken their word and betrayed me. Now that I think about how it was possible that I continued to trust the same people who had already hurt and betrayed me before, I think it was because I did not want to accept reality.

Sometimes in my dreams I imagine a small and naive girl, in a beautiful park full of white rose bushes with pearly tones and divine chrysanthemums. That place was safe, peaceful and in a very beautiful setting. But whenever that girl approached the pure white rose bushes, she would cut herself on her fingers, blood would come out and hurt herself. In the end it hurt her, and she ended up staining that beautiful and pure white of the rose bush with her own thick, fiery blood and a crimson red. In the end everything was clouded and the only living note of color was that crimson red. It was the surviving note of sin in her world. The girl in that dream was always me, the pure rose bushes were the trust that I placed in others, the thorns were the acts of betrayal that I suffered from trusting too much in others and the thick blood was the pain and suffering that I suffered, caused by cutting myself with the thorns of the rosebush.

The fact that in my dream I saw myself approaching to touch the rose bushes and how I hurt myself with the thorns and stained the pure rose bushes with thick blood, makes me think that it is just as if I had opened the door to the sin of overconfidence and therefore, the betrayal ended up reaching and hurting me. Well, I was the one who came to touch the thorns of the rose bushes and I alone ended up making cuts all over my soul.

But this is the reality, and although I realized 16 years later, the importance of knowing how to go slowly but surely with the people around us, at least I have realized and now I know that loyalty is difficult to find, confidence is easy to lose, and actions speak louder than words.

Here I am leaving my heart exposed;  here I am opening my eyes and seeing what I have been too scared to see; here I am talking to myself, writing about my greatest sin. My greatest sin involves the most important person in my life: my brother. 

My brother is undoubtedly the number one on the “who I care about the most” list. Even though I am clear of that fact, I did come a long way realizing it. My brother is an introverted person who is extremely kind and vulnerable. I still do not know if that is because of me, or I bullied him because of that. Yeah, here it is, my greatest sin is not being a good brother. 

Right now when I talk about my brother to other people, I always say that he is the best little brother I could ask for. Saying that makes me feel the most guilt ever, but there is no better description of him. I do not remember how it started, but I started forcing him into doing things. From small favors like grabbing stuff for me, to big problems like lying to our parents. I did this on a daily basis, and the worst part is that I did not notice anything wrong with it. 

On my birthday, I accidentally hit his head with a wooden bat. Although nothing bad happened, his head was still bleeding and I was scared as I have ever been. I lock myself in the room too scared to face the blame from my parents. I eventually opened the door just to see my brother with blood all over his head begging my parents not to blame me because he knows it was an accident. Imagine going into the big brother’s room to celebrate his birthday just to get hit with a bat and tell the parents not to blame him. That is my brother. My parents still punished me heavily on my birthday and it left a scar on our relationship for a while. Recalling this moment right now, I realize how brave and forgiving my brother was. 

Recalling this moment right now, I realize how brave and forgiving my brother was

And it went on, I kept on treating my brother badly, forcing him to help me. He knows that if he tells our parents, I would be more mad at him. Once my brother was with me during a school trip, we were doing tag, and he tagged me. I was so ashamed of losing to my brother that I pushed him down. I remember all of my classmates looking at me. It felt like I was surrounded by them. The look on their faces, disgusted by what I just did. To be honest, I cared about my friends more than my brother. Seeing all of my friends on my brother’s side, I was more ashamed, but even more angry. 

While writing about this, I feel even worse about my behavior. As I should. What brings me to loving my brother is nothing but time and maturity. Everyday I see a bit more of the world and I know a bit more about what is truly important to me. Nowadays, everytime my brother makes me mad, I think about what I have done when we were young, and that becomes a wall to prevent me from doing what I will regret doing. 

That is my greatest sin, it was me at my most vulnerable state. If people do not understand how it can be this bad to me, well, that is how much I love my brother. 

Jeronimo brunel 

Honors american literature

Mrs. Waterman 

9/20/2021

Ch. 5 The Scarlet Letter Imitation Piece

It may seem silly, that people use spanking to punish their kids–especially when a child hits their brother or sister to teach them not to be violent by being violent towards their child– this is not the right thing to do, you are just showing tha by being violent you have power over them which they will now have implanted in their heads that violence equals power. But when the kids don’t listen to what the parents are saying they get frustrated and irritated, that’s when they get violent towards their kids. It also gets on parents’ nerves when the kids talk back at them and that just gets them boiling with anger because they are thinking, who is this kid talking to, and that’s when kids get spanked. It was as if they were taunting and mocking their parents. All other options of how to punish the kids fly right by because of the anger and they go straight to violence. It is like a judge not thinking a case through and just giving the death sentence. 

It might be, too, that the parents were taught this way when they were little and that’s why they have this anger management problem. This just goes to show that violence should never be the 1st choice in any situation, and it shows how it does affect your child when you hit them. Now you can see how “the tempter of souls” affects your kids mentaly and physically. Maybe parents say they are helping their kids, they say that that’s how they learn and they say that that’s the only way. Finally, the parents might see that what they are doing is wrong and change their method towards teaching their kids.

Parts of his skin feel sore and hot. His wounds do not stop burning. He cannot bear the heat anymore. Other parts are wet, all of that water is too much for him. He cannot see anything, his eyes are covered with plastic. He cannot breathe anymore, the air around him is tainted and dirty. He is losing all of his energy. His blood is sucked out of his body. He screams, everyone hears him but no one helps him. Our planet earth is in danger, because of pollution.

And I am part of this pollution, I destroy and pollute my planet every day, every minute and every second. 

Environmental pollution is a mixture of harmful pollutants that interfere with natural processes and circulation in the environment. Various environmental pollutions are classified into water pollution, air pollution, soil pollution and noise pollution. Many industries produce solid and liquid wastes in large quantities, and many human-caused problems such as toxic emissions, deforestation, and global warming are the major causes of increased environmental pollution. Over the past decade, levels of pollution have increased significantly and scenarios have become worse than before. I am a part of the pollution. The truth is that I am killing the planet. My worst sin is pollution, or should I even say murder? I mean, I am killing the planet and everything that lives on it.

When I went to breakfast at my boarding school today, I ate from a plastic plate, drank out of a plastic cup and used a plastic fork. It felt like eating from a plate that is greased with the poison of a deadly snake. When I keep on thinking about this, I realize that this is actually true. This plate was poisonous, poisonous for the planet, the planet that I am living on. Why do I poison my planet? Just because I am too lazy to clean a plate, a fork and a cup?

I know that I am going to eat lunch from a new plastic plate, and dinner too. Two more lethal injections. For breakfast yesterday, I had fresh, juicy pineapple that delighted all of my sins. But the 7,000 kilometers this pineapple has traveled did not delight my planet’s sins. I am destroying it because I want to be satisfied. And there is so much more I do knowing that it shots an arrow directly in the earth’s heart:

I drink bottled water;
I throw chewing gum on the ground;
I leave the tap running while I brush my teeth;
I eat foods that contain palm oil;
I throw batteries in the rubbish;

I pollute the planet. I am responsible for global warming. I am a sinner. My sin is deadly.

Some people believe that everyone can be freed from a sin. I do not think that I can be freed from mine. Mine cannot be undone because it has left to many deep marks and wounds. Removing these hurting arrows is impossible but I could stop shooting even more of them. For some reason, I do not, I will never stop. I know that there is so much I could do to help the planet. But instead, I destroy it more and more every day and I am conscious. I believe that everyone is selfish. Everyone. Whenever somebody does or says something, in some way or another, it is for their benefit. Even actions we take are for our own benefit. I will be friendly towards someone because I want them to be my friend, which would result in my happiness. I will be empathetic and sympathetic because then I can think of myself as that kind of person, which will result, again, in my happiness. I think this would also explain why I pollute the planet. Things that make me happy and my life more comfortable are often bad for the planet. Taking my car instead of my bike, eating foods that have already seen more of the world than I have and buying all of these pretty clothes…. There is so much that satisfies me but kills the planet at the same time. Logically, killing the planet also means killing me which is definitely not satisfaction. But my brain does not think about that, it strives for short-term satisfaction, not caring about the future. In conclusion, the reason for my sin, pollution, is my stupid greed that is destroying the habitat of plants and animals, including myself. 

The reality is that I am killing the earth and everything on it, including myself. My waste is destroying ecosystems on a daily basis. Animals, plants and the atmosphere are affected in the worst possible way. In addition, my health is deteriorating as many diseases occur due to environmental pollution. I burn the garbage to get rid of it, but in the end, I pollute the air, I bury it, but in the end, I destroy the soil, which in turn damages the flora; I throw it into the oceans but end up hurting marine life.  This is my worst sin which will continue getting worse. I have been carrying this sin for my whole life and I will never get rid of it until the day my own sin is killing me.

Hypocrisy. 

That’s the word I chose for this essay. It’s a word that represents me more than I would want it to. And with it comes more, the other two words that stand out to me are: lying and indifference, they come together, like those three words belong in the same package. 

Nobody truly knows each other. We barely know ourselves. We lie and we pretend to be someone we are not sometimes. But when it becomes part of a person’s lifestyle, what can they do to stop it? I can’t seem to find an answer. There are multiple reasons people lie and pretend, it’s something so stigmatized in society yet so common. Maybe someone wants to fit in with others, and to do that they must change who they are because:

Who would want someone as they truly are? The good and the bad. Most people wouldn’t want to deal with the bad. It becomes too much of a burden to handle. First changing some parts of your personality to please someone else starts as a small thing. We change little things like liking the same music and tv shows, or the same people, same food, same opinions, etc. It ends in the point where everyone is like everyone else. Some differences sure, but we don’t let them show.

Because again, who would like us?

I believe that we don’t truly change, it just that lying becomes so common that people forget how they were. Everyone is just pretending, two people can like the same sport on the surface but deep down one of them hates it. It’s not a big deal, until it starts happening with things that matter more. We just show what others want to see from you.

I once was foolish enough to believe that I could escape that. I fell into a hole so deep and I can never seem to get out, and I didn’t even notice it until it was too late for me to care to do something about it. Who would want a stupid, stuck, obssessed girl? Who would want to deal with all that’s behind a happy face? Who would want to know what I’m hiding? No one. They tell me they do, but once I open up they leave because it just was too much. It’s frustrating. 

I don’t pretend I like the same things for someone else’s sake. I don’t change my opinion because somebody told me to. I’m not that kind of person. If they don’t want me as I am, then look for someone who will, right? But then why do most things I want to do are wrong? When I think about something that’s not ‘morally correct’ should I feel guilt? Because I don’t, what even are morals? We’re all bad people anyway, it’s just that nobody shows it. Isn’t pretending to be someone else ‘morally incorrect’? It becomes a cycle, an inescapable one, once you start there’s no going back. 

And with hypocrisy comes lying. 

“Oh, have you heard the whole album?” 

“No, I haven’t” Me neither. 

“You should, It’s pretty good” 

It’s a natural thing that just comes to me, I don’t even realize when I do it, just when I think back on it. We are expected to meet standards that society has for everyone, and when I didn’t I ended up alone. Ridiculously high standards that I could never meet, so I just gave up, I don’t care about it anymore, it’s stupid how everyone else seems to follow it and the pressure they feel to keep them. We should all just be ourselves, right? We should be honest with each other, right? That’s why they told us, didn’t they? Then, why do I get the feeling that if everyone was truly the most honest version of themselves we would all be in jail because all of the stupid rules we failed to follow. 

Indifference comes after that, it just became too much that I stopped caring about things everyone else does. The news just announced that somebody died, someone else just got harassed, another person got kidnapped, people are starving, there’s hate towards people because they just exist, and the world is dying. Everyone feels bad after hearing all of that, but why? It’s not someone they knew and cared about. For me it’s just somebody else who had the same destiny as a lot more. I don’t feel anything, not sad or mad that the world is this way. I’ve just learned to accept it, because it’s been like that for thousands of years and it’s going to be for millions more. It never truly changes. I’m supposed to care if somebody got shot in the street because of their skin color, or how they dressed, or sexuality, or religion. It’s too much, and everyone seems to care about the same news we get everyday but with a different name, why is it a bad thing if I don’t? Why should I feel guilt for not doing anything? The people who are, can’t change it, what’s the difference? If I cared and felt bad for everyone that has suffered in this world, I would be sad forever. 

I don’t want to change who I am just because others won’t accept it, but I still learned to put on a mask to please everyone so that nothing would happen to me, and, as much as I try, I can’t seem to get rid of it. I’m lying to everyone but myself, and it isolates me in a world where I’m the only one that exists there. 

Hopefully someday, I will be able to break out of it, but until then, I’ll keep wearing this mask as if it was a part of who I am.

Choosing a sin that fits me was difficult. There was not a single word in English that represented me. In my mind, I had a vague idea of what the sin should be. I could not find the specific word in english; however, in my first language , it was another story. Spanish vocabulary is really wide when it comes to swearwords, and there is a word that is the vivid representation of myself. It would definitely have to be ‘cabron’, and in English vocabulary doesn’t have a similar word for it. ‘Cabron’ has various meanings, and I will be writing every single one of them, even how and when to use it.

‘Cabron’ literally means male goat, but it can also mean bastard.Goats have a reputation for eating anything; therefore, their association with the lowly likes of a “bastard.”  As it is often the case in slang, negative words can get a positive spin. In English, you can tell the difference between calling something ‘shit’ as opposed to calling something ‘the shit’. So Spanish speakers use this concept too, you can name someone who is exceptionally skilled at something—a badass- cabron. But, I am not done yet because it can even be used as the word dude or to call out a friend. So, if you want to call your buddy, you might call them cabrón. If you’re looking to pick a fight with a stranger, call them cabrón. It’s funny for me when I started thinking about all the ways to say that word, and what’s even more is that I did not realize it until now that I am writing this essay, and I haven’t finished yet. Even in other countries like in Nicaragua a cabrón can mean a man whose wife is sexually unfaithful, or use it in the female form ‘cabrona’ to call someone a bitch. Use it when something is awesome or difficult. It can be used to call someone mischievous too. Depending on the way you say it, it can mean a lot of things. Like when you say ‘holy shit!’, you can use ‘Ay cabron!’ too.

Context is everything with cabrón, as it can actually mean male goat, a bastard, something awesome or difficult , someone very skilled, or a term to call your bros, someone mischievous, when something surprises you, bitch, or a cuckold. This word can be confusing to non-native Spanish speakers, and let’s not start with other swears because it happens exactly the same. I think that I use the word cabron and I feel it represents me with most of its meanings. Except the meaning of being cheated, and I don’t care if someone calls me a cabron because I am one. 

We are always encouraged to do the best and extend our possibilities. We are expected to score the highest possible on every exam, to be the friendliest and most approachable person, to not be selfish, to be the top of the class and to involve ourselves in all kinds of activities. When do we draw the line, and recognize that striving for excellence is impossible because it is extremely mentally and physically draining. I constantly celebrate my successes by wanting to accomplish more and be better than the ones that surround me, this is why my sin is being an overachiever. 

An overachiever is defined as a person who already does great things but is never satisfied and feels the need to accomplish more. While this may seem like a positive mindset it tends to interfere with healthy relationships such as friends and family and may also affect their personal needs. In other words, the cost of attaining one’s goal outweighs the reward that one achieves. This is problematic because it does not model a healthy and enjoyable life. 

Success is relative, but overachievers tend to strive for their hardest goals and do everything in their power to achieve them. Being successful and achieving one’s goals may be even considered as the purpose of one’s life, but when is it too much? That is an answer that an overachiever refuses to acknowledge. Success should be an ideal but not a priority, happiness should tower over success. 

An example of when overachieving took a strain on my happiness was this summer when I often rejected spending time with my father, sister and mother that I had not seen in more than a year to make sure I was completing my summer work. I spent my summer days locked up in my room with my eyes fixed on a screen and my fingers typing what felt like one hundred miles an hour. While I feel pride in having accomplished all the work I was given and understanding it, I feel guilty and regret not spending more time with my family before I left for Hebron.  

My perfectionism has become a source of stress and anxiety. This need to complete everything rigorously and in a timely manner is not an issue and it is often considered as a goal, but the mental burden that it demands inevitably sets me up for failure. I deflect much needed self-care and emotions to achieve a goal, which sets me on a circular, never-ending path of achievement followed by mental struggles and stress. 

For this sin I believe that I have been punished because of all the missed opportunities I spent in my room rushing to strive for goals, often prematurely. I was too concentrated on the future that I let the present slip away and with it many memories. I do feel guilty for being an overachiever because I have let success consume my life and neglected my friends and family as well as my own needs. This experience, that I am still recovering from, really encouraged me to reevaluate my priorities and recognize that the future is too far to worry about. 

“When do we draw the line, and recognize that striving for excellence is impossible because it is extremely mentally and physically draining.”

I think that overachieving has really shaped my life despite its negative consequences. It has taken me where I am, a hard worker attending a prep school where I have made lifetime friends. However, if I want to be happy I should establish a balance between achieving my goals, thinking about the future and living in the present. Or, these friends I have made, will too, just slip away.