Memoir: The House on Mango Street

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros is an eye opener. It tell the story of Esperanza Cordero— who live in a poor and rundown neighborhood—and is ashamed and feels like she doesn’t belonging and wants to escape and be free. The House on Mango Street is more than a small, cramped, red house, it was Esperanza’s home it’s where she unlocked the keys to her emerging and evolving identity and how she should always go back and not erase what she knows, how she will always be Mango Street, and how she should never forget who she is.

The memoir explains the social and economic difficulties faced by Mexican Americans, especially women, and the possibilities of overcoming those obstacles and changing the lives living in a poor community. Esperanza has realized this through the women around her: Sally, Marin, and Rafaela. She tries to determine who her role models will be, but she realizes she wants something bigger than getting married or dropping out of school; by that, she overcomes her insecurities and learns about her own strengths and weaknesses.

The book is organized in short series of vignettes, as the story developments the memoirist age increasing, even though it’s not clear you can tell by the maturity she shows throughout. The vignettes show Esperanza’s encounter with her surrounding and her realizations with herself and other people.

The House on Mango Street is a very powerful novel and is it is full of life lessons. From child's point of view Sandra Cisneros has the ability to open our eyes to the sufferings of growing up in poverty in a troubled neighborhood in Chicago. Not many authors have these types of themes and subjects involved in there writing and doing it in such a marvelous way. There are several subjects involved that most of us don’t think about or encounter, making this novel unique and remarkable.

Lines We Love:

“They will not know I have gone away to come back. For the ones I left behind. For the ones who cannot out.”(Pg. 110)

“I want to be
like the waves on the sea,
like the clouds in the wind,
but I'm me.
One day I'll jump
Out of my skin.
I'll shake the sky
like a hundred violins.” (Pg.60)

What I Believe

I believe that waking up in the morning
with a hug,
is a blessing of god.

I believe in improvisation.
It can bring wonderful
random moments.

I believe in making a wish
at 11:11.

I believe you can make more friends
by becoming interested in others,
than trying to get other people interested in you.

I believe in the wonders of art.
I believe in imagination and creation.

I believe that 'natural talent' doesn’t exist,
you have to work to win a Noble Prize,
you have to work to win the Olympic Gold Medal.

I believe you should give yourself permission...
to do new things, random things, or basic things.


I believe in being mischievous,
it feels good every once in a while.

I believe you should break the mold,
do thing differently for once.

I believe you should dare to dream.
to dream
for whatever.

And I believe in God
in someone superior

whether it is many gods,

whether it is no god,
but just someone
who's out there.

Evo Morales Equals Unwise

Bolivia is the best place to go for a vacation, but living there is not so great. I say this because the president—Evo Morales—is just completely insane! For some bizarre reason people still think he is doing a great job in office and he is still lionized...I guess for the only things his done 1.) say stupid things and 2.) do stupid things.

Having an indigenous president was a good change for country and some people helped him assimilate in the society very quickly, but having an illiterate president was the end of this nation. When Evo Morales came to make a speech about raising the price of gas, there was dissension over that ridicules act. People began to protest in the streets (the same people that supported for him and voted for him) there was riot up until the president backed out and thought twice of this almost error. I think he noticed that he didn’t have as much power as he did before, when he first ran for president. If I where him I would be very meticulous for my next move.

U.S.A. and Bolivia

Last night, I was watching the speech, Barak Obama made, “State of the Union Address”. It really showed how strong and powerful the U.S.A is which made me feel very proud. A few weeks before this speech the president of Bolivia—Evo Morales—talked to the Bolivians just like Obama did to the Americans. Like I said Obamas speech made me feel proud he talked with intelligence, but when I heard Evo’s speech it just made me want to turn off the T.V. I love both of these countries; the U.S.A is great for some things and bad for others. Bolivia’s government might become a state of anarchy (which I really hope it doesn’t) but it has great people, places, food or whatever besides the government is amazing. If there is a campaign that people can conspire there ideas to make Bolivia a better country, it would really make people from all around the world apprehend that it is growing and becoming a strong nation.

"I'm So Damn Sorry!"

It was one of those interminable winter days. Like always, right about five p.m., I was running out the turbulent post office (Boy, was it hectic in there.) I can briefly remember what had happened. After taking a breath, I derived that I had crashed into someone. It was this tall, skinny young boy, clad in his black coat, and this red hunting hat. He seemed like a very affable person because he wouldn’t stop saying, “I’m so damn sorry.” He gingerly helped me up, and spontaneously asked me to go out for a drink or watch a movie. I thought it was very strange to ask me that since we just meet.

That crash was excruciating, I think my knee was bleeding, but I didn’t say anything so I pretended that I was okay. I told him that I could only join him for a brief stop at the bar or something. He told me that he had to meet some old friend so I surmised that it was fine with him.

“Hey, do you happen to know where the ducks go when the lake freezes?” He asked in a imperative tone.

What was he thinking? How old is he anyways? And his name, I completely forgot that.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think they, well, it really makes me despondent…” I said softly, “Oh and I missed your name?”

“Oh, I’m Holden, Holden Caulfield.” He said, “What do you mean it makes you despondent?”

Who asks these questions? I noticed that his breath smelled abhorrent. My conjecture is that he was an avid smoker because of that, and because he was going on his 5th cigar since we bumped into each other.

We entered the bar and I had an inkling that he was going to keep on asking about the ducks.

“So, you don’t know where they go?” he said.

“No.” I said very irascibly.

“Care to dance?” he asked in a harsh tone. But his eyes seemed genuine so I could be amiss.

In fact I was a marvelous dancer, so I said yes.

“Hey, do you want to come with me to the west, and I’ll get a job and stuff, and you could come with me and we would recluse our self and modify our lives!” he said as fast as he would.

“Wait, Holden, hold on, you seem like a very nice person, but I just meet you and that is just an audacious choice and it’s slovenly thought out!” I said, “I don’t want you to rankle yourself, you seriously thought I was going to say yes?”

“Just shut up!” he yelled, “You really are a pain in the ass.”
Iwas shocked and said, "Ugh, never talk to me again!”

I gave him my word grimace and rudely walked away.

“Hey, Bartender, give me another drink!” Holden shouted with anger.

Conscientious Vibrato

We were a strong,
lifelong, song...
written in a melody,
in a stanzas,
and
a note.

She is the serene piano
and I’m the prudent violin.
Forever playing
with no apart.
But years pass

And pass.
We both embark
in a journey
to adulthood.
One
before the other.

Our audacious
but yet profound talent
reach a Sul tasto,
a Ponticello, a Bariolage
But always
a conscientious vibrato
on ever note and step
of our ways.

We were a strong,
lifelong, song...
written in a melody,
in a stanzas,
and
a note.

The Catcher in the Rye: He Just Runs

Him,
that boy,
that phony slob,
that immature boy
honest
but careless
boy just runs.

He waits,
that boy,
alone
for a goodbye
a sad,
a happy,
a bad goodbye.

Him,
that boy
runs in the getaway.
Fearless
or not
just runs
and runs.


He waits,
that boy,
sick and tired
for train
that will never go forth.
So now,
he just runs
and runs.