NEW YORK CITY

I am starry-eyed with my surroundings. I can't believe how full of energy everything is. I'd be a fool to ever take advantage of such a gift. My mind fumes with distress as it attempts to process every little detail but it only becomes a mental over-load of information. My heart is too busy palpitating for it's life cause the thought of you being within an arms reach could very well be the end of me. Too much to process in so little time. I never knew I'd be walking the old streets of such an energized city. It was almost intimidating - to attempt and capture the real emotion behind my love for such a thing. Random patterns of biology that flicker in and out but never die out - how could I ever explain such a blasphemous thing in my own world back at home? I couldn't... it only foreshadowed a tremendous heartbreak. A heartbreak that inspired this video which does no justice in explaining the experiences and emotional rebound I had that was catalyzed by nostalgia.

Ever feel like you're in a movie moment? When you're in a cab by yourself riding away to come back at some unknown time (possibly never) and feeling hopeless to return? When the wind tumbled through the window and singed your tears cold on your cheeks while you concentrate on not making a single sound of sadness so the humming cab driver doesn't notice? All the while the blinding lights of the city rush you by outside, bidding their farewell by lighting brighter than they ever have. You can't help but cry and feel weak. The city can't help but grow more vibrant and stronger.

We all want to be a part of something.

...The only thing I want to be a part of, is the cherished memories of those I love the most.

It's interesting. I feel as though if I were to title the past week and my adventures in NYC, I would title it; 'NEWYORKCITY: The Love Story.' It's almost as though I rediscovered something I almost forgot I once used to live off of. The more I wandered through the concrete jungle, the more I felt like I was experiencing some kind of De Ja Vu. It wasn't until that last evening upon a rooftop that it occurred to me that I used to live in a city very much like this one. I fell in love with it all over again.

I've spent too much time in a desolate place where only desolate people thrive in.

I feed off the vibe of my surroundings. This being the case, I was biting more than I could chew at times - and I loved it. What could be better than living in a productive place that inspires you to be productive. Everyone is achieving something - why shouldn't you?

At last, this experience wouldn't have been what it was if it wasn't for a dear friend of mine. With the uncanny ability to contaminate everyone around us with joy and with his hospitality - I lost track of my own time and failed to experience 'home-sickness.' A phone call from my mother asking 'Where have you been? Do I not exist to you anymore?! Tell me about New York!!' served as a wake up call ...literally.

If I were to dedicate this video to anyone, it would be to this fella. He made us feel right at home and took us under his wing as he guided us throughout the city. Upon first meeting each other the first night we got off the bus, it didn't take long to feel as though I've known him for years. The excitement got the best of me - I accidentally crushed his ribs when I hugged him too hard. It was like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

Thank you, Mark.

NEWYORKCITY: THE LOVE STORY

Penrose Triangle

Everyone likes a mystery, it stimulates curiosity and without curiosity the world will cease to create.

As we grow, we evolve.

We individualize ourselves.

We form a way of thinking

That defines who we are.

Sometimes the idea is bigger than we are.

Sometimes that idea evolves.

Its hard to maintain that motive.

Its even sometimes hard to remember,

Without losing yourself.

It is as though the world is a warzone

And we can only hope to survive.

Lets capture an idea that is bigger than us.

It will be scandalous.

It will stir questions.

Questions that were stimulated by curiosity.

I do it only for myself.

A symbol of evolution.

We don't stop learning until we die.

Until then, it is an endless cycle that you

can't find a beginning or end to.

We make connections with our surroundings.

We question what we dont understand.

No matter where we go in life,

Our decisions are solely dependent on our

Way of looking at life.

The more optimistic we become

The more we discover.

The more we question,

The more we learn. 

The World Is Your Lab

In composition this morning, our teacher handed out a sheet of paper with a letter printed on it written to an individual by the name of BZ. The letter really 'spoke' to me and my hand began to itch for the highlighter. I whipped out my highlighter and began to abstract the spots that most stuck out to me. I also used the pink pen my kind friend to the right of me allowed me to use for the class (seeing as my laundry machine has a nasty habit of exploding them) and began to tear apart the essay.

from Letters to a Young Artist
by Anna Deveare Smith
excerpted from the letter to BZ, "The World is Your Lab"

. . . As an artist you are a student of the human condition. There is no syllabus. You can go to school and seek some structures, some techniques, some advice. Ultimately you must make your own course description, you must discover your own book list, you must make your own regimen, your own discipline. You can work as hard as you like. Or not. You can use the time or not. You can use the world-as much or as little as you like.

. . . Your job is not defined. There is no bar exam for you to pass; there is no oath for you to take. Nonetheless you have a large responsibility and possibility if you would like to take it. As artists we cannot afford to hide out in our tiny rooms. We must expand our capacity to absorb. And we should use our passports to go, metaphorically, where others might go.

The old model of educating artists was to create a "safe space" in which they could be "nurtured." That was the model of how I was trained. But the nurturing did not happen for everyone. Many of us found our own way. . . As you go on this journey, [BZ], I cannot promise safety. I can try to help bring you to a kind of artistic leadership. And that calls not for safety, but resilience, and breaking the molds when you can. It calls for absorbing this fractious world, absorbing it, sifting through it in your dreams, in your subconscious, in less than obvious ways, and giving it back to a viewer or an audience so that they see the cover of the newspaper differently.

Here's my big question to you and your generation of artists. It's a question that comes because we are now so very entrenched in a celebrity culture. Are you becoming an artist because you want the world to look at you? Or are you becoming an artist because you would like to use your ability to attract attention and the ability to get people to look at your work in order to cause them to see themselves and the world differently through you? . . .

Use your ability to see things upside down and inside out to cause those around you to do the same. It might help them consider another route than the popular route. The less popular route needs exploration. We are students of the human condition, with our own course of study. The time is yours. Take it. Use it wisely. The dawn has completed its course. It's day now. 

The Rose and Its Thorns

I think we sometimes wonder about what kind of impact we have on the life of the one person we are most curious about.

It's the heartache of not knowing that leads us to believe we're nothing to them.

....and that's what gets me every time.

I once used to believe that we all gracefully grew into the people we are supposed to become. I realize now that you can't be anyone without bleeding. I realize now that you can't be anyone without sweating. I realize now you can't be anyone without crying. These are but a product of the variables we have to meticulously manipulate in our life that are sacrifice, love, and acceptance to the life we are living currently. The situations we live through are scattered like shattered glass in a spectrum of comfort and luxury of how easy it is to make decisions. Just don't forget that rough hands are protected by thicker skin.

Why do we think the way do? Why do we work the way we do?

We like the idea of being worth the fight, but the poison of hunger for attention of affection contradicts the fair trade of human emotion. It's simple; I like you but I don't want you to know that for I just wish you liked me. It's a simple human reaction. The human error is identifying whether it is our heart speaking the truth or our minds lying to our hearts. There isn't a good or bad person in this world - there is only people who can't identify the heart's truth as easily as others or just don't give the heart enough time. Furthermore, not everyone can carry an open heart to the world.

Give me the opportunity to express how incredibly valuable it is to love. It is cheesy in every sense of it's own existence. But realize that it is what keeps you living to another tomorrow. We love to wake up to a new day of subconscious recognition that we have new opportunities and a clean slate before us. It is what keeps our hearts palpitating when we see our crush in the same room. It is what keeps us smiling when doing what we are most passionate about. It is what keeps us laughing in the presence of our family and friends whom we cherish so much. It is what sets us free and keeps us free when we behold new sights to the world we discover throughout our lives. It is easy to forget what a close friend Love is to us. But we remember so vividly what a dangerous enemy it can become. It is misunderstood and under-appreciated.

My heavy eyes are forcing these last few statements of resentment to you. I realize now that we can never live a life without affection - it's impossible to remove it from the equation. So don't be saddened because there is someone you cannot have or because you've lost someone so dearly you've held in your heart. In fact, embrace the beauty of feeling alive and longing for something that puts a little more meaning in your life. It's only when you're days desaturate from depression that the rose's thorns begin to draw blood from your hand you've so let it's grip tightened from your fear of letting it fall.

Don't be afraid to loosen your grip. Hold on too tightly and the rose will die with its thorns in your skin. Let the rose fall and have courage it wont be the last one you'll ever see.

Happy Valentine's Day

Ever feel like no body will ever love you? Then maybe you should watch this... it'll make you feel better.

If you are single this year, be proud of being independent and strong.

If you are not single this year, good job, you're the reason everyone is so depressed.

With love,

Camilo Herrera

The Weeping Woman

An old Cherokee told his grandson, "My son, there is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, and truth."

The boy thought about it, and asked, "Grandfather, which wolf wins?"

The old man quietly replied, "The one you feed."

I've always loved folklore and oral storytelling. Stories that are best accompanied by a warm fire, a blanket, some snacks and maybe even someone whose arm you can grab in suspense and wonder. It could be the way these stories have a sense of culture that has been weaved and intertwined within its fibers through the years of its own evolution. It's like an art piece that the older it gets, the more sacred it becomes. When I was a young child, I remember hiding under my own blanket in fear from the scary stories that were told around the camp fire. My father would tell stories and myths about spirits that lived in the forests and in the darkness.

How could I ever have forgotten the story of The Weeping Woman?

As a group of rambunctious little children that we were back in the day, nothing had us shivering to our bones more than the hispanic legend of 'La Llorona.'

There was once a young woman by the name of Maria who was absolutely gorgeous...and she knew it. In fact, she was so gorgeous that she would completely ignore every man in her village because she felt that she should only marry the most handsome man in the world. One day, a young man, who was just that - the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life - arrived to the village. She devised a plan to get his attention and taunt his hospitality by refusing every expensive gift he got her. He'd play his guitar and serenaded her outside her window but she would never come. It was then that he declared he was going to win the heart of this beautiful woman and marry her. Her plan worked perfectly.

It all worked out as planned. They got married and even had two beautiful children. Eventually, the 'ranchero' went back to the wild life in the prairies and would usually be gone months at a time. When he returned home, it was only to visit his children. Now, he seemed to care nothing about the beautiful Maria. He even talked of setting poor Maria aside, and marrying a woman of his own wealthy class. As proud as Maria was, she became very angry with the man. She also began to feel anger towards her children because he would only pay attention to them and ignore her.

One evening, Maria was taking her two children for a stroll down a shady path near a river when the man approached on a carriage. As he stopped right in front of them, he addressed the children while Maria noticed a woman sitting next to him on the carriage. He cracked his whips and the horses took off leaving Maria unnoticed by her husband. Legend says that a rage took a hold of Maria that was taken out on her children when she took her children and threw them into the river and killing them. When she realized what she had done, she ran down the bank of the river calling after her children only to be found, the next morning, dead. The villagers laid her to rest where she had fallen next to the river.

The first night Maria was in her grave, villagers told stories of cries that were heard out by the river of a woman who called after her fallen children. It was not the river or the wind. They called her 'La Llorona' which means 'The Weeping Woman' and some say that she wears a white robe; the robe she was buried in. To this day, no one knows where she might be, but parents warn their children to not go wandering at night for she might take them away... forever.

Then again...it's just a legend. Or is it?

The Real Me

I toss my book-bag on my unmade bed. My shirt reeks of acetate film and rust from the film archive. I pull out my macbook, set it on my desk, connect the power, and pull up all my online networking out of curiosity to see what new notifications I may have. Just as I begin to listen to some of my favorite music, I hear a voice ring out from downstairs, 'Camilo! Your food is ready!' I haven't even gotten the chance to settle in.

For some strange reason, my nerve is pinched at the calling out of my name. It could just be the way my mom yells it. There isn't a distinction between being yelled at or being called at anymore.

Regardless, I get an attitude and brush it off - later to forget and only have my mom come in my messy room and say 'Next time you come from school, I just wont make you food.' 

The guilt stabs me in the gut. Why am I being so stupid? Maybe I'm just being a typical teenager.

Today, I learned something new. Or...yet something has been brought to my attention that I should've noticed a long time ago.

'Happiness comes from enjoying the journey, no matter how tough it gets.'

                    - Mom

"You were once a kid who smiled a lot. You were the light of everyone's night. You would shine with a big smile and had a bright attitude. You were always happy and would never show signs of sadness. Where is that kid? What's happened to him and what is happening to you?"

I used to think that in order for people to think you have a story to tell is to walk around with flat eyes and with an over-worked mind. Now I realize, that it's the happiest people that have the most to share. I miss not being picky about the way I smile. Now it seems as though I don't have the energy to smile anymore. It's not that I'm self conscious. I've never been self-conscious. I've just been a boy who's been mistreated by his own sensitivity that has lost his ability to express his interest for the world.

It hurts me to realize how I've been treating my surroundings these days..maybe this past year. My sense of joking and carelessness has blurred into one gray picture and I've  realized how much I hate to hear a sarcastic 'You're such a dick!' because I know that who I was back in the day, I wouldn't ever want anyone to say that to me, even if it is a joke. I want a fresh attitude with everyone again. I don't hate anyone, and I don't ever want to dislike someone. Even if the world hates one person, I want to be able to make that person smile because it makes me smile. I don't give a hug I don't ever mean, so every time I hug someone, I hug with intentions of sending every positive vibe I possibly can - even if it means not having any for myself.

I don't ever want to forget how to smile. After all, everyone likes a happy person.

In middle school, my bus driver would call me 'Smiley' cause I always got on board the bus with a smile on my face in the morning and in the afternoon. Not sure where Smiley went, but I need him back.

So I take a warm salty bath, I dry up, shave, brush my teeth and put on some comfortable sleeping clothes. I feel as though I've washed away all my negative energy and all I need to do, is sleep away the stress to wake up to a new person who promises to face the days ahead with a bigger smile, a more sincere attitude, and a less of a smart-ass Juan Camilo Herrera because I have no reason to ever condescend, belittle or make others feel as though I don't care about their lives, especially my friends.

My attitude towards humanity is blurred. But my attitude towards individuals is optimistic and loving. So here I am, making a promise to myself, that no matter how much Film School kicks me in the ass and entangles me in it's spider web, I will always have a smile on my face. My complaining will go significantly down, my optimism will increase, and my attitude towards the people I see around me will be more sincere.

'An open mind is being loving and understanding. They don't see an obstacle that slows them down but a lesson that makes them stronger.'

I used to believe that if I saved some positive energy for myself, I would feel better, but now I see that I must give every positive energy to the world around me so that I can be proud of myself and even get some of that energy back. 

No more selfishness. No more bullshit.

This is the real me and I'm working to improve myself every day.