I've always thought the hardest part of writing is being read. When the story is a personal experience, then it’s even worse. Being read is the pinnacle of exposition, a nightmare for any introvert who writes precisely to avoid verbalizing anything.

BY BARBARA PATROCINIO

IMAGE BY PIXABAY

I've always thought the hardest part of writing is being read. When the story is a personal experience, then it’s even worse. Being read is the pinnacle of exposition, a nightmare for any introvert who writes precisely to avoid verbalizing anything. That’s why I'm glad this story has absolutely nothing to do with me. It's about someone else completely, a girl named Sophie. 

Our story begins in a very small town in Brazil on a rainy day in March 1991. The town was neither Rio nor São Paulo, and therefore you’ve probably never heard of it. Sophie was attending a children's costume party at her school. All the students were dressed up and gathered together in a huge hall decorated with neon colors and dog-shaped balloons. The “DJ” was a teacher who played Britney Spears’ greatest hits. 

Sophie was seven years old and dressed in a slightly big, extremely grey, and remarkably strange elephant costume in a room filled with fairies, princesses, and ballerinas.  

Sophie’s mother, Edna, said she couldn’t find a more suitable costume. She’d chosen the elephant and that was it. Edna wasn’t a sadist, just a little peculiar. She once showed up at her daughter's school wearing nothing but an inside out hoodie and a pair of Havaianas. She also believed The Beatles were the best band in the universe and liked to crochet lying upside down on her couch to improve blood circulation. 

Sophie stood there in her glasses and costume, aware and devastated that she was the only elephant in a party full of ballerinas and princesses. Maybe if she’d chosen the costume it would have felt different, but she just wanted to belong, you know? At that moment there was no greater tragedy in the world than standing there dressed as an elephant. 

When you're seven years old, personal and global disasters have the same weight. Sophie was sure her life would end along with the costume ball and was just waiting for them both to be over. She’d find out later that there are far worse tragedies, but most children don't have a sense of proportion or the ability to laugh at themselves. 

This lack of perspective follows some people throughout their lives. In childhood, everything is more painful. In adolescence, everything is more intense. As an adult, Nietzsche invites Dostoyevsky over for tea inside the person’s head, where the men offer unsolicited and unhelpful advice on a daily basis. 

Sophie's life went through all these phases, but adulthood was the worst. She got a middling job that had something to do with foreign trade and something to do with media communications, but wasn't exactly either. Her work was annoying to explain, and most people didn't get it anyway.  

At the office, Sophie would make coffee and turn on her computer, then answer the phone in English or Spanish (never Portuguese). She’d print order cards and give out quotes. After that it was time to make more coffee. Excitement was a customer ordering a specific pump valve. The next day, she’d do it all over again. 

Although Sophie was reasonably good at her job, life was boring. Why did no one else notice? She spent many hours narrating her own life, sometimes in the third-person. Poor thing, she was a bit self-important. To escape her boredom, Sophie invented an imaginary world with her as the adventuring hero. She was only momentarily trapped in a tedious chapter. Any moment now she’d do something exciting. Any moment now . . . 

Until one day Sophie decided to drop everything and move to another country. No more buses clogged with ugly, sweaty people. No more working long hours. No more Carnivals. Just four well-defined seasons along with the hope for a decent salary and a more exciting routine. Maybe she could even talk to people instead of emailing them back and forth. 

It seemed so obvious that she would never have to be the elephant again, but somehow she was, systematically and successively, and at the worst possible times. 

She lost count of how often she said something disjointed or out of context for an interview, during a social situation, or even at her new job. It was like she’d internalized the elephant costume back in 1991, but it gave her superpowers in reverse; instead of leaping over tall buildings, she stumbled on small expectations. 

She forgot her cell phone back in Brazil while moving to Toronto. She spoke Portuguese for minutes at a time before realizing that no one could understand a word she way saying. In her mind, not only could everyone see that she was an elephant, but they were commenting on her elephanticity. 

It turns out, however, that people can adapt to even the worst situations. Over the years Sophie learned to take herself less seriously despite still having a distorted sense of proportion. When she accidentally added salt to her coffee or when she sat on a lighter and almost set her pants on fire, she at least managed to laugh to herself—most of the time. 

I honestly don't know if she ever really accepted her elephanticity. If she did, she hasn't told me. Still, there's something funny in inadequacy, in doing and saying the opposite of what’s expected. Although Sophie may seem peculiar, maybe that’s what makes her interesting. After all, wouldn’t it be a boring world if no one ever went to a fairy princess ball dressed as an elephant? 

Barbara Patrocinio is a Humber journalism student from Brazil. She has a BA in International Relations from PUC Minas. Barbara loves to read and sometimes challenges herself to write. She moved to Toronto in 2020.

Image: I, Elephant (Pixabay)

Edited for publication by Alan Wright, as part of the Professional Writing and Communications Program.

HLR Spotlight is a collaboration between the Faculty of Media & Creative Arts and the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Sciences and Innovative Learning at Humber College in Toronto, Ontario. This project is funded by Humber’s Office of Research & Innovation.