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[Sun Nov 2010 at 3:25pm] |
"Life and death, energy and peace. If I stop today, it was still worth it. Even the terrible mistakes that I have made and would have unmade if I could, the pains that have burned me and scarred my soul. It was worth it for having been allowed to walk where I've walked—which was to hell on earth, heaven on earth, back again, into, under, far in between, through it, in it and above."
Born and raised in South Africa under the guidance of her grandparents, Élodie experienced an unconventional childhood. Both of her parents were extremely free spirited educated individuals. They met in medical school at John Hopkins University and traveled to forgotten cities around the globe educating and providing their medical service. They were a team. When Louise became pregnant with her first child they found that traveling to the extremes was not easy toting a child. Only four years later after Louise announce that she was pregnant yet again did the couple decide to resettle in Franklin’s native country, South Africa.
The first five years of Élodie’s life her parents mirrored her every move ensuring the healthy growth of their child, but there was always a desire for something more. When she was six years old, and her brother Elliot was ten, they decide to start working again. The children became a forced responsibility of their grandparents, Ishmael and Liza. Élodie understood her parent’s eagerness to help the world and couldn’t love them more for their open hearts.
Despite being put off by her parents she never harbored any sort of disaffection, resentment, or bitterness toward anyone. She loved her grandparents and the life they provided in her parents’ absence. Occasionally, her parents were visit and enlighten then children with stories of their travels. Both Élodie and Elliot became educated on the crises of Israel, Bangladesh, and Rwanda. Unconventional childhood remember, Aespo Fables and he legacy of Disney meant nothing to her—she had something more; the reality of the world.
Her parent’s fire and devotion to help a greater kind descended onto the weight of their children. Elliot grew to idol their medical career and followed in their footsteps by attending John Hopkins. Élodie’s interest was prompted in the social aspect of their careers and thus began her own journey at the ripe age of seventeen at the University of Witwatersrand in Johannesburg.
College was a completely new experience for her. After being home schooled her entire life, Élodie was socially awkward, but her interest in the arts and social justice led her to a unique crowd. It was there that she became mixed up in drugs and sex. Her word was shaped by casual nihilism and passivity in crowd with too much money. A crowd bred by a life of limitless privilege and absolute moral entropy; where mountains of cocaine were just as sweet as candy and hustling was a hobby. She was still a girl. Too naïve and young to visibly note the difference in the society that welcomed her. A dizzying spiral of desperation enrolled her through relentless parties in glitzy, off shore mansions, seedy bars, and underground clubs. Before she realized it she was turning tricks for side cash and making her bed in alleys.
All hope was lost. When she was twenty Elliot had just finished his residency in New York City and popped in for a visit. He witnessed her despair first hand and spoke in a voice louder than lightening. He threatened to expose her to their parents—where she would experience the ultimate shame. She begged him not to and promised to clean herself up. He refused to believe her. He forced her to transfer Universities and thus she settled at University of Cape Town living at home again with her grandparents. Elliot was working at the local hospital, with her life under constant surveillance and supervision Élodie found it hard to escape to the life she grew to adore and in return focused more on her studies. At the age of twenty-one she was able to graduate with two degrees in Religious Studies and Psychology.
After graduating she moved back to Johannesburg and that’s when the past caught up with her. When Elliot forced Élodie into exile he didn’t take into consideration what she was leaving behind: a few of many unpaid debts.
After graduating she spent a year in Cape Town working out the possibilities of her life and hiding from “the issue.” She still remained in contact with her family, but out of fear for their safety she stayed away. A certain threat found her and suddenly her life was in jeopardy.
Out of fear she left Cape Town without a word to her family and enrolled in graduate school at New York University where she hopes to obtain her Masters in Religious Studies and one day follow the footprints of her parents. Though, she lives in a constant state of fear that the “the issue” will find her and finish what it started.
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[Thu Jul 2008 at 11:31pm] |
WHO: ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) patels, katemckay and ahlberg
WHAT: Open Mic Night, the trio meeting for the first time.
WHERE: Sacred Grounds Coffee House
WHEN: Thursday evening.
Sacred Grounds was a local coffee house [did the name not give it away?] that promoted local art, artists, galleries, and musicians. It was a tranquil place to kick back and unwind. On any given night one might find themselves sitting next to an assortment of professionals from lawyers to doctors, to up and coming musicians. Sacred Grounds instills a sense of community and provides a safe, friendly, and positive environment for all whom an open mind and are accepting to all ways of life.
( Be Courageous.. )
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[Sat Mar 2008 at 3:23am] |
I’m sitting in the parking garage of Loyola University. I’m smoking cigarettes like a crack addict and abusing the free wireless. I just swallowed my sixth sleeping pill and sleep is still the furthest thing from my mind. Not that it matters, this crowded Prius isn’t exactly the Holiday Inn. I couldn’t afford the Holiday Inn if I wanted. Thankfully Elliot gave me $400 for groceries and to pay a few bills. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but what other option do I have? I can’t go home. What home? That sounds funny. The apartment I paid for, I can’t even return to. There’s no point. Not a single damn thing left for me there. Memories, that’s about it. Memories of our life turned to shit after we moved here. I don’t want to think about any of that. I have $325 left (after Gas, Cigarettes, and a 12-pack of Miller) and I’m thinking of cashing it all in on some nice blow. Go out with a bang. I like that. Too bad this isn’t my turf and I’m bound to get stiffed. I’m fucked either way. I thought about just fall asleep in the snow. I might as well be laying in the flow, fucking car is freezing. I could turn on the heat, but I’m trying to be ecofriendly. I don’t even know why I care. I don’t even know why I tried. You didn’t want to listen anyways. Your mind was set. I tried. I did. For seven fucking months I abandoned everything for you, but you didn’t give a damn. Abandoned my scholarship to Columbia so you could be on tour. I lost my job so I could lay with you in the hospital. Look at me. Look at me. God, I’m fucking crying again. How pathetic. I have nothing. No one. Why? Because I gave all that shit up for you. For this. I don’t understand. How I ended up with this. How I came to be deserted in a parking garage in the middle of winter drinking beer after beer and burning through cigarettes. How I ended up with $325 to my name. When did I lose it all? When did it all slip away? How could I? What was I thinking? Forever. Fuck forever. You didn’t mean forever. I was so stupid. Such a fucking fool. I want to hate you. I really would fucking love to hate you. But it doesn’t matter, because as far as I’m concerned I’ll never see you again. Not in this lifetime. Never, ever again will I be fooled. Never, ever. I’m sealing that promise tonight with another swing. One more, because I gave up everything. Everything I worked so hard for: for this. For fucking this.
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| Public Apology. - (OPEN FOR EVERYONE TO READ.) |
[Tue Dec 2007 at 12:21am] |
ocbryce
I can see this is ripping you in two. The last thing I want is for you to blame yourself for all this. Create another one of those lists that compiles every global disaster on your shoulder. I just wanted to say that you can't control the hands of fate. That what has happened has inevitable happened. I believe you came into my life for a reason. I believe you came to set me straight on the right path. Since you've been illuminating my life I haven't though about using. I haven't had the chance to. I've invested all my concern into you and your well being. I find that, that's a healthier more rewarding way to live. While I don't assume it will come over night, I do believe that this could be a successful road for me. I don't say that to trap you. No, I say that to inform you that I've already got one foot on the path. While I'd be most delighted to have you walk the journey with me. I want you to know that if you need to go. That if you need to set things right with her. I'll be okay.
Thank you for coming into my life when you did. To everyone else, Merry Christmas.
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| Privately Entered. |
[Sat Dec 2007 at 1:47am] |
Today I woke up to the warmth of another being. For a moment I was frantic, but then it settled in that I had fallen asleep in a place I wanted to wake up; beside him. No regrets last night. Not a single one.
Elliot phoned me later in the day and asked me if I was certain I couldn’t come home for holiday. That Mom and Dad would be more than delighted if I could join them. I’m sure they would be, but I can’t let them see me. Not like this. It’s not like I don’t know I’m a train wreck. It’s not like I don’t realize how badly I’ve fucked up, but I’m trying to get back on track. It’s been days since I’ve touched any of that stuff. – I’ve actually been too preoccupied to think about it. This means you’re good for me. Well, I’d like to preserve the pristine image of me that they have. I’m not sure how much of that has been tarnished by Elliot’s devil woman wife, but at this point they still refer to me as their daughter so it can’t be that bad.
But every time I close my eyes (or as of lately every time) I can’t help, but feeling overwhelmed by the spirit of the holiday. My grandmother and grandfather use to do everything in their power to make the holiday feel warm. Mom and Dad were often away healing cancers and fighting malaria; they would be burning sandalwood and stirring cinnamon. I miss that, I wish I had that here now in this damp cold apartment. Which isn’t really cold anymore since my new friend brought by the space heater and all my generous neighbors donated old blankets and the heat radiating from his body. It’s not that bad. It could be worse. I could be where I was over the summer.
Let’s not go back to there. – My arms are ridden with goose bumps and my fingers are trembling. You said you’d be here at eight, but there’s still no sign of you by the moonlight. I’m afraid something has happened. My chest is tight and I’m wearing through the wood floor pacing. Tell me you’ll be okay and I’ll crawl back into our fort.
Gasp. Breathe. Breathe.
The semester starts January 7th. I can’t believe it. I barely made it through this semester. I don’t know if I can start another. I haven’t even registered for classes yet, meaning I’ll get everyone’s leftovers. I might be okay with that if I get good teachers. I can’t believe it. First year of graduate school is almost over, three more to go. Feels like a lifetime away. I don’t even know why I’m going anymore. I’ll never be considered for a position at the embassy. All of this seems so meaningless right now.
Learning use to make me happy. It used to be my release. Now, it’s just a burden.
I got a job today. It’s nothing spectacular, but it means 11.75 an hour to move lights and update a web site. No drug test. So, that’s a good thing. Just means less time in bed with you. More time shuffling around catering to old people who only care about a Tony award. Pathetic. I have two BA’s and I’m working at the damn Palladium.
Look at me now Grandma.
Damn it. Where are you? – Mr. Piddles just knocked over all his damn food. Fuck.
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