The Early Years

To this day, I still think that the idea of locking up a bunch of teenagers and expecting them to excel in productivity and academics is vile. It is anatomically collectively one of the worst stages of life. We are hormonal, we ache, we stink, and our high-key priority is learning how to socialize in this zoo. On top of that, we are told that our decisions at this point in our life are crucial. It's horrid.

So when a piece of paper is put in front of you—a piece of paper that is meant to test and tell you what your future studies should be—the pressure is there, the matrix is real, and it can make you snap. And boy, I snapped! I refused to take the test; I was not going to allow this thing to tell me what to do with my path. I was taken out of the room by the institutional psychologist and was told to calm down. I am a triple fire sign; never tell that to a Leo. When the guy realized I was not budging, he tried the lowest trick in the book: “Geronimo, we are going to have to call your mother,” he said.

Oh yes! Please call my mother! The working widow, a history professor trying to make a living for her two sons. Call her, interrupt her lecture, make her leave work and come to the school to tell me to “behave.” Because that has worked so well in the past each time we’ve had those stupid meetings about my grades and absences. Beautiful strategy! Sit down and try to intimidate the kid who lost his father a year ago, who has cuts up and down his limbs, and is currently under a cocktail of antidepressants and anxiolytics. He surely is not numb at all and will magically care about getting good grades now!

So to no one's surprise, I did not take the test. I was probably placed under some lame punishment that I can’t even remember and just got the usual dose of shame and institutional humiliation. But I had two whole hours to myself while my peers took the test. Time to sit outside and reflect about this sick system of artificial natural selection brought by some old guy who went to study in the Northeast in the seventies and thought that it would be a splendid idea to bring this to Latin America. He has surely been celebrated as a god in his system of institutions he has created, his matrix in which he has convinced the whole country he is a founding father of liberal arts. The highest education in the country, herding the elite to go spend their fortunes overseas and feeding an even bigger matrix. But that is a story for a whole other book ;) And remember, I am the “troubled kid,” so why would you listen to me?

I sat there until we had to go back to class and continue with our daily lives. And now that I’ve had time to reflect, against popular belief and the college counselor’s advice, I think I made awesome decisions during high school. When we had a taste of this “liberal arts freedom,” I started taking all of my free electives in creative subjects: visual art, photography, graphic design, creative writing, ceramics, and 3D experimental art. So I did get a head start with my creative studies, got massive side-eye for it, but look at me now! Beware of someone who knows how to wield a pen!

By lunchtime, I was probably done spiraling and was already joking about it with my friends. I know I have painted a bit of a grim picture until now, but it was not all bad. I was blessed to be surrounded and loved by amazing people; the friends I made during those years have an incredible place in my heart. Without their love and support, I don’t think I would be able to be typing this now.

They were the best acolytes in my creative endeavors. Their presence is inescapable during the early years of my creative work. They would always be down to help me out with a photoshoot or making a weird film. One of the works I am most proud of from that time is a film I titled “Untitled Anxiety,” and it was actually made for my economics class, lol. One of those rare instances that instead of a quiz or an essay, we were presented with the opportunity of “doing something creative,” so it was time to slay. We had to pick a social movement and create a piece of media supporting the movement. I chose the anti-bullying movement because I thought it would give me more creative freedom. I was never bullied by my peers during school, and as a gay boy, that is saying a lot. So when I started thinking about the film and how to make it, while researching case studies and testimonies, I found common ground and came to a conclusion: the school as an institution and society is the bully. I wrote a script and gathered my friends. Lights, camera, action, and the film was shot on school grounds.

I joyfully remember showing it in class. They were all shocked and really did not know what to make of it. It is a tough watch; you can watch the whole thing, but trigger warnings: all of them. It was one of my first encounters with one of my favorite forms of art: “the art of getting away with it.” And I have truly fallen in love with it.

It was an economics class, so the audience was subpar. It shocked them but was quickly forced into oblivion until I posted it to my social media, and through that, I found out I was actually not the only one who felt this way, which for a change, was shocking for me!

With time, I have learned to plan my antics. A lot of strategy goes into play to give the impression that you are “getting away with it” smoothly and in plain sight. And my strategic thinking was really a survival mechanism that started to shape during this time. Another one of my stunts happened during my photography class. We were going through all of the units you would expect. And one of them was Architecture. For a whole month, we had to go around the school campus taking pictures of it. I found that extremely boring and dull. So instead of doing that, my friend and I smuggled coffee out of the PE office and just enjoyed our free time outside.

Eventually, it was time to hand in the assignment. My friend (whom I dearly love) took the easy cop-out and just took some pictures the last day, and that is what he handed in. He actually did a very good job! But my angsty self really didn’t want to continue glorifying the school by taking pretty pictures of it. So I decided to face the fact that my assignment was going to be late, and I would have to hand it in with the maximum grade being deducted to a C. (C for Creative!!!!!!!!!!!)

I asked the teacher for one more week, and she agreed (she was and still is an ally). So for a whole week, I walked around my neighborhood trying to find architecture that spoke to me, which was not happening. Until I saw that there was a house being torn down, and BOOM! I had an idea for the project.

I snuck in after the workers left and photographed the whole thing. I had a blast while doing it and was super proud of the results. I called the work “The Architecture of Destruction” and wrote an essay justifying the concept and handed it in.

My teacher was so impressed by it that she bypassed the system and gave me an A with a special mention in the school assembly celebrating my creative vision. HAHA not! That did not happen. I got my well-deserved C, but she was really impressed by it and sat down with me to have a deep chat. Actually, she was the first one to let me know that I was onto something with this dangerous tango of creativity, strategy, and the magnificent art of getting away with it.

Feeling restless too?
If my story resonates with you, I go even deeper in my book RESTLESS: A Practical Guide for Purposeful Creativity. Inside, you’ll find tools, exercises, and stories to help you unlock your own creative path and bring your ideas to life.

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-Geronimo

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