Allora
A. LL.O.RA; typically, an adverb to describe a whole bunch of je ne sais quoi
Four years ago, right around now I was in grade 12 working full time hours and finishing up the IB exams—about to turn 18. It was an interesting time, especially because throughout high school I attempted suicide eight times, no one really knows the number or that I even attempted… Which I guess is normal. It was almost a full year since we saw a global uptick in public neo-Nazism, with a lot more conversations of white supremacy happening, the disintegration of the ozone layer was further publicized, Infinity War, Endgame and Justice League were in production, I was shat on by a Canadian Screen Award winner and I thought I would never be able to tell stories. Yet, everyone I knew then and know now were all marching straight forth no matter the size of the flames that engulphed our world.
Also, around this time four years ago, I heard this word, which literally translates to “well” or a colloquial je ne sais quoi. Oh, you don’t like yourself? Allora! Master of None served as a cultural re-awakening for me. I was losing myself to the big world that was outside of high school, scared of being an adult, realizing that I was nowhere near as grown as I wanted to be. Aziz Ansari made it so I was less alone, he made it so I could see a Brown guy on TV in a role that wasn’t a spin-off Apu. Instead I got someone like me, someone who loves film, pasta, the city, and who is extremely awkward; who was not as grown as he wanted to be. The only difference is that aesthetically he’s a bit short and is ten times funnier… Nevertheless, not all of us can be afforded the luxury of having diverse representation on TV— Allora!
In the second episode of the second season, Dev says to Arnold “sometimes you meet people for the right reason, and sometimes you meet them for the season.” I have never really quite understood that line until recently… Everything is impermanent for good reason, you throw yourself into a course for the span of four months only to completely forget about; you meet someone and imagine a whole bunch of shit then have it all topple like a house of cards because you’re too caught up in your own shit to realize you’re actually not selfless but rather you’re entirely selfish. Goddamn that was a long fucking sentence. That being said, I haven’t learnt shit about myself asides from my love of pasta and my talent for writing shithouse non-fiction pieces, but oh well—I guess this is just a seasonal thing.
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The impermanence of it all leaves something to be desired, especially because you constantly question your worth; we often associate worth with permanence when worth and permanence are not intrinsic. Someone or something can affirm your greatest insecurities, but until you gain the courage to understand those insecurities… You’ll just keep falling and falling and falling. You’ll keep yourself in a cycle until you realize that sometimes is all the time. And that sometimes is all up to you, if that makes sense.
When it comes to your dreams there is nothing harder than chasing after them, so much so that after a while the chase itself becomes the sole desire. It’s an allegory that we’ve seen amongst historical figures and all those with an ambition, but what stumps me is how do you embrace that?
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In all honesty, I’ve probably lost you by now and that’s okay. You have good reason to stop reading this, I don’t know what the purpose of this piece is, but I do know that I had those three first paragraph’s open on a document since February and I needed to get them out. I needed to tell a story that is in contest with those three paragraphs—I feel as if I have… Somewhat. The point of writing, telling a story, failing and falling is to learn how to get back up and do it all over again. Each time more refined than the last, sharper and edgier; less clichéd and more you. I have spent too much time hiding who I am, not in terms of sexuality or identity, but in terms of voice. I can attest that there has been contention in my early life that has made me second think myself, there still is for that matter, but as of right now there is only one person holding me back and that is myself. There is a reason I always revisit Master of None, there are mistakes, jokes suitable for millennials of all ages (even if I am not a millennial) and people. It’s a human arc with an asshole as its protagonist. It’s a string quartet where the violinist gets all the attention for being flashy and melodic, but in reality, the piano, harp and cello are equally as important and as romantic. For every Dev there is an Arnold and for every Denise there is Naomi Ackie’s character (season 3 has yet to come out and I don’t know her name, apologies).
I always thought Master of None was my comfort for my inability in romance, but what it is truly is my comfort for myself as an Artist. Not just because Aziz Ansari is brown, loves pasta, and is heavily into Italian disco, but because it shows that we just gotta keep marching on and keep getting better. Whether that be as people or as artists, we have an obligation to get knocked down, to get up, to do better. I know this is probably the sappiest shit I’ve written here so far, but Allora, hopefully you got something out of it…
… Love, Brown Sugar.