How long does it take to be worthy?

How long does it take to be worthy?

There was that time when it was her special day and everyone came to celebrate her, or so she thought. The hall was big, the caterers paid on credit, the dances choreographed and rehearsed to perfection. For only the second time in her life she splurged to have her hair done professionally. Or at least semi professionally at the local beauty college as the actual salon would have just been too much. And the dress. She absolutely loved the dress. For the very first time the whole day was going to be all for her and they'd finally find reason to praise her.

And yet.

Everyone has their flaws. She knew that. More importantly she knew hers all to well as they had been made abundantly clear since the day she could comprehend language. Stop letting her eat so much they'd say. Tell her to stop reading and start running. Has she watched that exercise video we got her? She could be so pretty, if only.

But not this day. She'd basically starved herself for weeks. When her mother shouted at her for not eating any rice she just shrugged it off with an excuse for not feeling well. She knew she looked the best she ever had, if only.

It was not enough. It would never be enough.

Return

Over twenty years ago my sister told me to stop acting out and to start writing down what I was thinking and feeling. It was a less damaging and embarrassing way of getting out what I needed to. It was also the best advice I had been given, ever. At the time I was a third grader in a new school with new people and my parents' marriage was falling apart. I had lost both grandparents on my mothers side and felt, what seemed like, inconsolable and  incredible sadness. But children are not supposed to feel that way and are definitely not supposed to talk about feeling such a way. Because in doing so something might be thought of as "wrong" with them. Or even worse, "different." So I wrote. I wrote in a journal, I wrote letters, I wrote down things that I knew I shouldn't say but couldn't keep bottled up. I wrote stories, I wrote goals, I wrote promises. And one of those promises was to leave my small town for good. It was not a goal, or a dream. It was a promise. 

The thing about making promises to yourself in third grade is that you're not quite skilled in planning yet. I figured I would go to college far, far away, meet someone rich and handsome, get married then pregnant, have rich and handsome babies, and all my problems would be solved. I figured going to college and/or having money to buy everything I wanted would be the pinnacle of happiness. I figured that a big house, a bunch of cars, shoes, and handbags far away from home would take away the constant ache I felt within me. That's the thing about making promises to yourself in third grade. Whatever you figured, you're probably wrong. But I digress. 

Over twenty years ago I started writing. And I kept writing, though the content and purpose changed and evolved (and hopefully improved). But always, when I wrote for me, it was always so melancholy. For some reason if I was unable to tap into the loss, confusion, grief, insecurity, anger, or anything else having to do with heartache, I thought I had nothing worth saying. 

Over seven years ago I stopped writing. Perhaps it was because I had nothing else to say. Perhaps it was because I fell in love. Perhaps it was because I didn't want to ruin my newfound happiness by thinking about heartache. Or perhaps I just stopped. 

My partner recently asked me why I no longer write and I didn't have an answer. So all this will hopefully be an attempt to find some semblance of a balance. Between hobbies and work, between happiness and heartache, and between time together and alone. Whether or not any of it is read, I hope that I can finally just write for me. That it isn't to release some kind of pent up emotion, or communicate what I cannot say, or even  for academic purposes. I hope that my next pieces will simply, be. 

Thank you for indulging me. Have a lovely day. 

CYLA Day 3

I really should have started a blog on day one, but what the heck, better late than never.

So here goes, I think this whole year of committment is going to be seriously life changing. I have been thoroughly impressed by the people within the community, and I cannot wait to meet the students we will be interacting with on a daily basis. But anyway, we'll reflect on the "awesome-ness" of the team some other time. What I really wanted to jot down is something that we did in an activity today. We did an activity called "Idealist Journey." They talk a lot about putting idealism to work, and applying the practicalities of optimism to real life. Basically, we're all tired of everyone talking about the issues, and feeling bad about other peoples' situations, and we just want to start doing. So they asked us a question today to have us reflect on it. They asked us why we were there, and why we serve. And of course, once I get a few minutes to myself, a sheet of lined paper, and pen, well I just start going. And then once it was sharing time a lot of people had emotional stories, and I got really emotional as well, but anyway...here is what I wrote:

Three years ago if you would've told me I was going to be working with kids and on the path to becoming a teacher by choice, I would've called you crazy. But three years ago I took a work study job at the request of my financial aid counselor and began tutoring kids in the Mar Vista area three times a week. At first it was awkward, I did not want to really get into it at all, and I tried nearly every excuse not to get close to the kids. But somehow those kids made me feel like I had no choice. They made me feel like I had purpose, that I was wanted there, and more importantly needed. It is always nice to feel needed. It was at this site that I knew I was definitely not made to be a corporate attorney, and that I was never meant to have a six figure salary. I was meant to be goofy, run around, play with crayons, and write on white or black boards. These kids showed me what I was meant to do with my life: I was meant to teach.

It was with this realization and this knowing that I finished my undergraduate college career at UCLA, and took a series of jobs tutoring, baby-sitting, and nanny-ing. Basically whatever I could do to gain more experience working with children of all ages. But it was one of my tutoring jobs in particular that really opened my eyes to the near failure if not complete failure of the public education system for my tutees. I was ordered to tutor them for no more and no less than thirty-four hours over three to four months maximum. Additionally I was only allowed to tutor them on the three California Standards that they did the most poorly in, not their homework or anything else. And to be honest, the money was pretty good, but definitely not at all worth it. Because not only was this whole system completely ineffective it was even taking away from things my tutees should have been doing such as homework or extra-curriculur activities. These children received my services because they were in the No Child Left Behind program, and yet they were being left behind AND costing the government tax payers millions! I quickly left that job and began looking for something that I could do to actually help children in LAUSD catch up, and to really be successful both in their school work and attitude.

The first time I visited the office for my first interview I knew that City Year would be the right choice for me. Gabby, one of our recruiters, was the first person to interview, but definitely not the first person to greet me. I was a little nervous and didn't know what to expect, but I was welcomed by so many smiling faces, people offering water or a chair, and just a genuinely comfortable and kind environment. I don't think I have ever seen a group of people more just genuinely kind than that City Year office. So it was after my first interview that I began to pray to please, please, please, let me be a part of this organization. About week after I was called for a second interview, and a month after that, I received a very energetic call from a Senior Corps Member congratulating me on my acceptance.

I serve because I wabt every child to know and feel that they are special. I serve because I know, from personal experience, that no matter what difficulty a child has at home, if someone at school makes them feel special it can become a safe haven. I serve because I want to be that safe haven for them. I want them to believe in their own potential, because I believe in their potential, so that they can exceed even the highest expectations that no one else ever though possible. I serve because I know that any and every child is capable of the greatest succes given the opportunity, support, and genuine belief that they can.

Dear Papa.

I'm sorry I don't take your calls anymore, and that I forget your birthday, and haven't seen you in months, maybe even a year now. Maybe I'm just busy, maybe I'm trying to make a life for myself, maybe I'm just not that great a daughter. Or maybe, it's just that I'm tired of you being a lousy father, and I don't want to have my heart broken anymore. Either way, I'm sorry.



I used to adore you, you were my hero, the greatest man I thought I'd ever know. I thought that the chemical imbalances in your brain were just parts of you, and that underneath the glazed over look you gave me when you were too medicated or too stoned to love me, you were an amazing man. A man who could do anything, be anything, and go anywhere, but simply chose to be a father to me.



I took your side in everything for the longest time. I nearly destroyed the relationship I had with my mother taking your side. I defended you and your actions whether they made sense to me or not. I maintained the perfect picture of you in my mind for nearly two decades, refusing to believe you were anything less than amazing. But as time goes on, more and more promises are broken, more and more things happened that made me question you, more and more things both material and not were taken from me and others I thought you loved, and more and more I began to question whether or not you were really capable of loving me.



So I'm sorry I got so tired of everything, and couldn't deal with everything that came with loving you so intensely. I'm sorry I'm not as strong as you thought I was. I'm sorry that I can't pretend and turn a blind eye to everything anymore. I'm sorry that the older I got, the hazier the memories of your good days got, and the clearer the reality of who you are became.



I'm sure that you are still a good man. And that you mean to be a good father, and you try in your way to be as such. But until you realize that being a good father means supporting your children and being there for them, and not the other way around, I cannot bring myself to be around you. I am deeply sorry it has come to this, believe me, but I think it has definitely been a long time coming. I hope that you find happiness through whatever means you need to. And I hope that I may be a part of that happiness, but if not, please know that I have never and will never stop loving you. You are my father. I simply cannot allow you to be a part of my life until you earn a right to.



I love you Papa. Good luck with everything. Have a great life.

Thanks.

It’s important to be grateful.

I’ve never had much of anything in my life, but what I have never lacked was friends. I began my life with fourteen people in a tiny three bedroom one bathroom home. Surrounded by my family, I learned that I needed to be with people, that being alone was probably the scariest thing in the world, and that being amongst people that love you can provide one of the best feelings in the world.

That being said, for some reason when so much shit hit the fan, so to speak, over and over again it was always my friends that were there for me, that kept me going. When I was a child and my family fell apart, my friends were my escape from a home full of emptiness. In high school it was my friends who got me through fights with parents, feeling lost, college applications, and countless other bullshit that comes with being young. And in college my friends, beyond a shadow of a doubt, became my family.

I don’t think I have really deserved any of it. Probably because of the countless mistakes I have made along the way. For a long time my friends were what kept me alive. They were the only reason I still existed at all. And for a long time while I had grown and had tried my very best to be a good friend and return the favor, it was always as if I was lacking. And to be completely honest, as cheesy at it comes across, I didn’t care about myself enough to care about other people. It caused me to be incredibly self-destructive, so much so that I don’t think I even ever realized the extent of it. While I knew that I had friends that I loved so very much, and who I knew cared about me, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t think myself worthy of any of it. So at the very least I tried to entertain everyone. I tried to be the ridiculous clown that everyone wanted to be around to have a good time. And at the end of the day, what I wanted more than anything else was to crawl into bed, hide underneath my sheets, and never wake up.

I was drowning in what I had always wrote as “this incessant sorrow.” It was eating me alive. And that’s why I left. Because I knew if I stayed I wasn’t going to make it out.

It was one of the smartest decisions I have every made. While I wanted nothing more than to run away, I realized that what I really needed to do was handle things that should’ve been handled years ago. I needed to make amends with my mother, be able to have a conversation with her without a bottle of wine first. I needed to get to know my nephews who I had always brushed off because “I just don’t get kids, kids are weird.” I needed to be with my sister, who had needed help for so long, and who I ignored because I thought I was so much more important. I needed to stop being a child and running away from my family, and I needed to grow the hell up and start owning up to everything I had done, was doing, and hoped to do.

And I think I did. I know that I’m not completely better, and I know coming back is going to have to take some getting used to again. But I think I’m ready. I think I can live simply and not give into the glitz and glamour of the city of angels again.

However I don’t think I would’ve ever been able to make it through this process on my own. And for that I am so grateful to have the most wonderful man I have ever known in my life. I was so blessed to have the most random beginning to the best relationship anyone could ever ask for. I know that he has been a huge part of saving my life, and I love him for it. amongst so many other reasons.

But most of all, I need to thank my friends. Those who have let me pass out at their places time and time again. Those who laugh at my jokes, or probably just at me for being ridiculous. Those who held my hair back when I was puking my face off. Those who compliment my outfits or my hair and brighten my day. Those who listen to my rants and complaints and constant profane language (which I’m working on by the way). Those who have listened to me cry. Those who have hugged me. Those who have never judged me no matter what mistakes I have made. Those who have given me advice, even though I might not have listened to it. Those who drank with me, gotten me booze, danced with me, stumbled with me, eaten with me, etc. Those who have put up with me, period. Those who have respected me, and loved me no matter what. Those who have always supported me whether or not they agreed with me.

I have had the great fortune of knowing some of the most amazing people on this planet, and I really mean that. I’m so sorry I wasn’t better. But I can promise I’ll get there. You have set a great example for me that I fully intend on following.

Thank you so incredibly much. Because if it weren’t for you all, I would have been gone a long time ago. You have changed my life. You give me hope for the world. You have opened my mind and my heart in ways I never imagined. You have taken this small town girl, and helped shape her into a woman of the world. So, thank you. Thank you very, very much.

LOVE.

A nice start.

She reverted back to that fated day when she was a child and she had thought she had reached the end. The apparatus that assisted her in floating had failed and she had begun to sink to the bottom of the pool; which for her might as well have been the bottom of the ocean. She fought and fought. She kicked, she flailed her arms, she reached as far as she could to try to get above the water. Until the water had begun to fill her tiny little lungs and she no longer had the strength to fight. She kicked her last kick and then began to sink. On that fated day, it was her grandmother who saved her. Getting her out of the water in the knick of time, bringing her to safety on the deck, and confidently performing CPR to get the water out of her lungs. All she could remember was coughing hard and loud and finally opening her eyes to see her family above her. Their joy at her survival was quickly replaced with her mother's trademark scolding. And in an instant, what she thought was an inevitable death had returned to complete normalcy.

But this time, drowning was different. It wasn't physical. No one could see her flailing around, kicking, reaching, gasping for air. No one could hear her. No one could feel it, but her. It was within. Her life had somehow become an incessant cause of unfathomable sorrow. She didn't know what she wanted to be, what she wanted for herself, much less what she wanted for others, she didn't even know what to do in any situation. She was completely and seemingly irrevocably, lost. She tried everything she could to think of to save herself from drowning in it all. And then, like a beacon of light a voice had said to her, "You should leave. You need to let go. You need to help yourself before you help others." And with that it seemed so clear. What she had needed all along, was exactly what she had feared the most: leaving everything and everyone she had come to know and love. She decided to leave despite the fear and doubt.

And so, just as she had done with everything else in her life, she mentally and emotionally prepared herself for leaving. Almost beginning to shut herself down. Much like how her tiny body had begun to shut down the first time she nearly drowned so long ago. She was prepared to kick her last kick, close her eyes, gasp her last breath, and go.

But for some ridiculously strange reason, God somehow deemed her worthy of the best man she had ever known. Just when she thought that the next step she needed to take was to be prepared to be unhappy for the rest of her life, everything changed. She fell in love with a man, and for some explanation she would probably never understand, he loved her back. And for the very first time in as long as she could remember, she woke up happy. She was finally able to believe what people meant when they said everyday was a gift. Because while friends and family had been more than she could ever ask for in terms of love and support, respect and kindness, it was different. She was no longer lost as long as she was loved by him. She was given a purpose, a reason for living. She was in love.

It's good.

And just when she thought it wasn't possible, that she would be doomed do a life of incessant sorrow he saved her. There he had been hiding in plain sight, the both of them never believing it was at all possible. That the saying was in fact true: Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, Love gives us a fairytale.

For the longest time, she could not remember what it meant to be happy. Nor could she associate any sort of happiness with any kind of sobriety. And then it was different. Because finally it was uncomplicated and clear. Finally someone had loved her as much as she loved him. It was so simple, and right, and good. And so she wanted to believe that it was all just too good to be true. That soon some kind of ball would drop and he would find out everything horrible about her and leave her for good. But it never did. Thus she was left to wonder what the hell she could've done to have such a wonderful, perfect man love her.

It's Mine.

Here’s a new concept for today’s blog: fuck vague-ness and anonymity. Here’s to complete and total honesty, to facing oneself head on no matter how hard it might be. Here’s to admitting to oneself and the entire world everything that is wrong, and horrible, and sad, and troublesome. And here’s to letting all of that go to find out what exactly will make life glorious, or as close as any of us can get to it.

Pretty much what I’ve gotten from a lifetime of T.V. and movies is that, people are wretched things. I don’t know if people are inherently evil or if there’s something along the way that turns us into selfish creatures. Either way, we are all very selfish beings, no matter what. I get that people can surprise you. That there are people who are ridiculously generous, and who give, give, give and ask nothing in return. I’ve known people who just love, and give, and are amazing. But the fact that they come so far and few between is what makes them amazing, hence leaving the bulk of humanity as I said prior: selfish beings.

Forgive me if I ramble on tangents. Anyway, I was admittedly a very selfish child, you can ask any of my family members. I didn’t like to share anything, and would rather play in a corner alone than share my favorite toy. I told on people a lot, and cried when I didn’t get what I wanted. I was a complete and total bitch of a child. If I saw myself as a child now, it would take an incredible amount of self-restraint not to bitch slap myself. Anyway, somewhere down the line, I started living my life for other people. But not in the healthy, self-less way. I wanted other people to respect me, look up to me, be proud of me, praise me, and mostly just like me. I was surrounded by a family of nay-sayers who loved to gossip about me, talk down to me, and do everything they could to make themselves feel superior. I think it was because they thought they had to, to make me a stronger person. I think it was because they had no idea that they were doing it, and furthermore that they had no idea what it would do to a child, and that raising a child this way was incredibly detrimental.

Enough with the sob story, my family was/is fucked up. (Who’s isn’t in their own way?) The end.

So I moved away. I moved as far away as my mother, finances, and college acceptances allowed. And I earned my right by going to a top 25 university in our great nation to say whatever the hell I wanted to say to my so-called “elders” whether or not they think so. And the more I stayed away, the more I got so damn tired of living my life for other people. It probably all goes back to the whole selfish child thing, but I don’t really care.

I’m not getting a degree because it’s what my parents have always wanted for me. I can’t do that to myself anymore. I’m not going to be the one with fifty extra curricular activities, a stupid high gpa, and the LSAT score everyone prays for. I’m not going to pick some arbitrary career because people are counting on me to be the smart, successful one. I honestly don’t care about any of it, graduating, the degree, the walking on the stage, the pats on the back from my family. Fuck success, fuck praise, fuck false pride.

Okay well, maybe not fuck success, but let it be for me, because I wanted it. Because I busted my ass for no other reason than I wanted to, I felt like it at the time, and it made me happy.

I’m leaving my favorite city incredibly soon. I’m moving even farther away and taking a much needed break from literally everything I know. I want to know what it’s like to wake up in the morning and not feel like complete shit. I want to make a decision for myself, for my own well being and no one else‘s. And if it means not getting my degree when literally everyone was expecting me to, if it means moving to the opposite coast somewhat prematurely, if it means leaving the city I love so much, and the friends I love more than anything, so be it.

I know it’s going to suck for a little bit. I know I’m going to be sad and miss everyone. And I know it’s going to be a lot harder than I would like to admit, but I’m doing it anyway.

Because for once, while I used to say, “This is my toy, don’t touch it” This is my life, and no one else is going to play with it ever again.

Farewell. (Or as a good friend of mine said, “See you later.”)

Circles.

It was that point in the evening where the clouds began to cover the city. Staring at what stars you had to struggle to see, it starts to become easier to notice that something else was going on in the sky. The clouds begin their graceful dance to come together and envelop the city. As if they wanted to rock everyone to sleep in their embrace; to shield everyone from the fears of the night. And there she stood. Tonight wearing her silver sexy-yet-functional heels, her favorite and most versatile little black dress, the floating diamond necklace from her mother, and her hair perfectly straightened hanging just past her shoulder blades. She turned when she heard someone coming, and immediately put out her Marlboro light. It was Stephen.

“How many times to I have to tell you to quit that shit?” He was leaning in the doorway to the terrace with one hand in his pocket and the other holding his jacket at his side. “Damn he looks good tonight.” She thought quietly to herself. He wore his Gucci black pinstripe suit that night, with a sky blue dress shirt rather than the typical white, and the matching pinstripe tie he got for Christmas years ago. “Well you know the more you tell me not to, the more I’m gonna want to do something.” She said playfully as she put her pack of cigarettes back into her purse. “What the hell are you doing here so early anyway?” she asked. “Maybe I just thought I’d keep you company. Want a drink?” he then asked her. She turned back around to face out again and responded with a quick, “No.” And then he asked, “So what do you want to do?” “I just want to stand here for a while, if that’s okay.” “Yeah, okay.” So he stood by her leaning on the balcony as well. Without saying a word, with the both of them knowing that just being with each other was enough.

It had been years since they had seen each other. She left to travel the world and find her purpose, only to settle in New York City a year later. He stayed and did everything he set out to do: law school, the six figure salary to start, everything. But before that, they were in love. At one point they were even thinking about getting married. But as so-called cynics say, you can’t live off of love. So she left. And now here they were, standing side by side waiting for their best friends’ rehearsal dinner to start.

It’s quite strange seeing where life takes you, and even stranger how many times, it merely leads you back to where you started.

Note to Self. Two.

I would normally hand write this in a journal, add it to the document on my laptop with everything I have ever blogged, then paste it on here. But alas I lack all my materials for said ritual. Thus I am forced to type as quitely as possible in my sister's guestroom while simultaneously attempting to not wake her sleeping children.

Anyway...

The people I have chosen to be in my life are everything to me. I choose to love them, support them, entertain them and forgive them unconditionally. Of course when you care about people so much, many times it's going to hurt a lot. When people leave, when they make mistakes, when they worry the hell out of you, it (for lack of a less favorite phrase) sucks. And then they come back to you, or you come back to them, and everything feels the way it always had, if not better. And that's the thing about reunions, more important than catching up is the remembering. Looking back on the stories of ditching class to go to the grand opening of Hollister in high school, or friends not being able to make "Easy Mac," or driving around your undergraduate college shooting nerf guns at each other, or seeing your roommate passed out on the couch with his laptop next to his face and his hand still on the keyboard.

Life is ridiculously hard. But sometimes life is just ridiculous. Maybe it's to offset the difficulty. Or maybe it's just because I have insanely amazing people in my life. Either way, try to live for the simply ridiculous. You'll smile more, I promise.

Note to self. One.

I am going to try to begin a new series. Of course I will continue my usual blogs, but this series is meant to be more vaguely personal. Here is the first of more to come. I hope you enjoy.

He’s the guy that you always know you can’t really have. You may have had him once upon a time, but that time no longer exists. He’s the man that you fall in love with time and time again, and every time it always feels like the first. You both know that if things were different and your life situations permitted it, you’d be together. And since you both know that isn’t possible you keep trying to go on with your lives pretending that your heart is completely your own. But forgive me, my love, you are wrong. You two are bound by fate. You will always love him, and he will always love you. And while this is known to both parties it still does not by any means ensure that you two will ever be together. Perhaps, my dear love, you both are doomed to never be completely happy. For you are doomed to never be together. And as sad and depressing as it may seem, would it be so bad? For while you may never be with your fated soul mate, you may yet have other loves of your life. Do not limit yourself, rather allow the love you have enhance your love for others.

AmeriCorps.

I grew up with scarcity. I lived in the same house my entire life built in 1942 in the worst part of my small town back home. My father was a drug addict, my mother was always ill due to a severe heart condition, my sister is bi-polar, and my stepfather has a gambling addiction and is an alcoholic. And for most of my life there were at least seven people living in a three bedroom one bathroom home. I don’t have one small moment in my life that has made me want to reach out to others, I have a lifetime.

I have never had money and I have never felt completely secure. And for a long time because of all of this, I was resentful of all that I came from. From 3rd through 12th grade, I worked myself to the bone to guarantee my place at a university far away from home. I wanted to get out, and I did.

But then I grew up. In my four years at UCLA I have come to realize that my life full of nothing but adversity has made me a better mentor, a better friend, and most importantly a better person. I learned to let go of whatever made me want to leave everything that was familiar, and to embrace everything and everyone that came my way. I realized, that maybe I was meant to experience all of the hardship I’ve endured in order to better understand and help others.

I have always known that while I have never had everything, there are others with absolutely nothing. And since I have never had much, I am able to identify with people in need. I have gone without many times in my life, and I feel that now it is my responsibility to at least try to ensure that others don’t have to experience what I have.

The truth of the matter is, I’m about to graduate from one of the most prestigious universities in the nation. People are telling me to go to law school, or take a year off to travel, or work at some big fortune 500 company. But I don’t see the point in doing any of those things. Because while a job would make a lot of money, law school would ensure a good career, and traveling would be a good experience, none of it seems worthwhile. I have lived my entire life listening to what people told me I was supposed to be doing. I got fantastic grades for 12 years because going to college was expected. I am graduating in June because my family expects it. But I have given my family and the rest of society 21 years of dictating what I should do with my life. This time, I am making a life decision completely of my own volition: I am going to help people. I don’t need any pats on the back, or thanks, or praise for being so generous. I just want a chance to make a year’s commitment to simply serve others, and if I’m lucky, maybe even make a small difference.

I want to serve because I know it’s needed. I want to serve because I know I can. I want to serve because I know that my life has made me perfect for it.

This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town.

Four years ago Thanksgiving came only about two months after I had first moved. And being as I was so completely homesick, I had already been back a few times before then. That first thanksgiving trip back home I turned eighteen, had a big party, saw family, did everything my Mom told me etc. It was if nothing had really changed.

I go home a lot less now, though I try to be there for my family whenever they really need me, or want me home. This is what I found, everyone and everything is different yet very much the same. There was a remodel of the one mall in my hometown, a Super Wal-Mart built, a BJ’s built, everyone from my graduating class is 21, and there have been a few more stoplights installed. But driving around town, I was reminded of all the reasons why I moved. You see the same people you grew up with all around town, every single place you go. You can drive from edge part of town to the other in under 20 minutes. And there are a total of eight exits along the one freeway that goes through town.

But as much as I love to talk shit about where I’m from, I am so thankful for being born and raised there.

I have a huge family. My Mom’s side has ten children therefore I have tons of cousins. The amazing thing is that me and all of my cousins get along really well and are pretty close for not seeing each other very often. We realize that although our mothers are pretty much insane, we came out alright, which is pretty good considering all that each of us went through. On top of having tons of cousins, many of them are married and have their own children which just makes the family even bigger.
And I’m so lucky because of it. I know that whatever I do, or wherever I go, I have this group of people who will love me and be there for me no matter what. My family is insane and tons of drama, but I love them, if for nothing else, our amazing stories.

Then there are the people I went to high school with. I made a toast to being a part of the best class to ever come out of Modesto. And I meant it. I moved away with the intention of letting go of everything and everyone in that town. But honestly, the group of people I went to high school with (who were in literally every single one of my classes for four years) are some of the best people I know. I looked around the table and just thought to myself, these are the people who give others hope for the world. They are kind, generous, ridiculously intelligent, and loyal among many other qualities. We have all been there for each other for at least eight years now, which I just think is remarkable.

So while I still think I was never really made for a small town, and I got out of there as soon as I could, I wouldn’t trade my hometown for anywhere else in the world. Because it’s the people that make it anything worthwhile. And good ol’ Modesto, California has a lot of very, very good people.

Thank to everyone who made this year’s Thanksgiving amazing.

The Couch.

Everyone loves comfortable furniture. Everyone loves nice furniture. And then there are those people who just generally love furniture in general. They spend their Sunday afternoons flipping through the Crate & Barrel catalog, or the Ikea catalog, or watching shows like Design on a Dime, or Top Design.

Well, while on occasion I have spent a lovely afternoon with an Ikea or Crate & Barrel catalog on my lap, there is one piece of furniture that has captured the hearts of many.

A couch.

The story of this couch is quite remarkable. Born of the fantastic website “craigslist” this couch came into our lives almost randomly. In the beginning, it was never really seen as anything more than somewhere to sit. Couches have to be in living rooms otherwise there is no real way to “live” in said room. And so the couch was purchased and set up in a beautiful apartment in West Los Angeles dubbed “HQ.”

The way “HQ” came to be is a story to be told another time. As for the couch, with its future a bit uncertain came into our home, and performed its job quite well by providing many seats for many, many friends and family. Let me just say, this couch is probably the most comfortable couch you will ever meet. It hugs you, invites you to sit, lay, and relax on it as long as you’d like. But also in many cases longer than you anticipated because of its incredibly high level of comfort.
This brown wonder has become a part of our lives. It has been there for many people when they have no where else to sleep. It has been there whenever it has been called upon to sink into in times of exhaustion. It has been climbed on, laid on, sat on, hugged, fell upon, etcetera. But moreover, it has become a staple in not just our everyday lives because we live with it, at this point, we do not know how to live without it.

The couch never complains when there are way too many people on it than it was made for, or when there’s crumbs that fall into its cracks, or when it’s too loud in the apartment, or when drunk people fall all over it. The couch never asks questions, or judges, or doubts anyone. And granted it is an inanimate object, the couch has made all the difference in making an apartment a home, making strangers friends, and simply making everyone more comfortable.

We love you couch. Never change.

Erasers.

I teach children these days. I always thought it was so cliché when people would talk about the wonders of children, and how they can teach you so much more about the world than you could ever imagine.

Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say children can teach adults everything about the world, but I have had a quick life lesson with one of my students. His name is Jorge. And while he’s a whiz at math, he has trouble in spelling and reading. Which is where most of my work is done. He had to put vocabulary words into a sentence and he was having trouble spelling words in the sentence. I would tell him to sound it out, or use the dictionary, because we’re not supposed to just straight out give them the answer. (At least not all of the time.) He got frustrated and gripping his pencil said to me, “Man, I always make too many mistakes!” And for some reason, without hesitation I replied to him cheerily, “Well that’s why you have an eraser.” And with that he was fine and carried on with his work no longer frustrated with making mistakes, knowing he could use his eraser and they’d be gone forever.

But when you get older, your mistakes don’t have to do with spelling “rural” or addition and subtraction, and an eraser can’t help you. When you get older your mistakes have to do with your life. Your mistakes can’t be erased, and while they may be forgotten, that is only if you’re lucky.

I guess the point of the matter is, why can’t things be more simple? Why can’t we love each other enough to have this big eraser where we all forgive and move on?

Maybe that’s too idealistic, but maybe a little idealism is what we need from time to time. And maybe getting older isn’t about trying to erase your mistakes, but it’s about being grown up enough to know when to let go of the sheet that’s marked up beyond recognition. Because maybe, just because you don’t have an eraser to permanently get rid of your mistakes, it doesn’t mean you can’t grab a brand new clean sheet of paper and just start over.

Just enjoy the music.

All she had wanted was to hear it back. Three words, eight letters, that is all. She would’ve done anything to hear it. Actually, she did close to everything to hear it, and it never happened. But it was alright. She had known what she was getting into in the first place. She knew that it was more likely that she’d end up getting hurt and left than ending up even remotely happy. She knew that it was much more likely that he would find any reason to push her away. She knew that there was no way he would want her for even close to forever. But she couldn’t help it. She put herself in that situation anyway. One in which she just gave it her all, and waited for some kind of tiny recognition, that she knew would never come. Because with him, it was only her faults that were focused on, and everything else she had given of herself was merely ignored. She kept giving anyway. Because for her, it was better to simply be needed even in the tiniest of ways, than to be nothing to him at all.

There are people in our lives who change us. They make us better, make us stronger, make us kinder, make our lives more worth living. And for a while, if you’re lucky, their presence in your life enhances it so, that it is almost as if all the beauty and good in the world has suddenly been revealed to you. If you’re lucky they teach you patience, and how you get more out of doing things for others than doing things for yourself. These people make you into the person you were meant to be.

He had changed her. He had, time and time again, broken her down forcing her to build herself back up. And this had made her better. It made her more patient, understanding, a better friend, a better sister, a better daughter. And in turn, she hoped that she was better for him.

But the most curious, and painful thing, was that he didn’t see it. Everyone around could sense, and see, and know how she poured everything she had into being whatever he needed. Everyone knew how much she cared for him. Everyone but him. Whether or not he ignored it, or disregarded it all, or was simply oblivious didn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, everyday, no matter what, whether he knew it or not, whether he cared or not, whether he had hurt her or not, he was it for her.

All songs come to an end, or so they say, but that’s no reason to not enjoy the music.

Soon it will be goodbye.

I moved away from home almost four years ago. I was seventeen years old, and I was running away. I had no idea what I was doing, and the only thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to be a doctor and for once my mother wouldn’t be able to stalk me around town. I was moving three hundred miles away, and couldn’t be happier about it. I was confident, I was terrified, I was ecstatic, I was nervous, I was young.

Four years later, I really feel like I’m a much different person. Without going into too much detail a lot can happen in four years. Mistakes are made, friends become family, futures are built. As my graduation date gets closer, and I have to start tying up all my loose ends and thinking about my future, for some reason it’s a lot less scary this time. In all honesty I have no real clue about what I want to be or what I want to do. I don’t know if I want to get a real job, or whether to choose Teach For America over Americorps, or whether I’m really ready to move out of California. I have no idea how I’m going to pay my loans back, or if I want to go to grad school or law school. I have no clue whether or not I want to get married or have children or if I’ll ever meet “the right person.”

But I’m not scared. I find the uncertainty is a relief.

I have had a plan for my entire life. I have been taken care of and babied my entire life. I have known at least what I was supposed to be doing my entire life. All because I have been blessed with a fantastically paranoid and neurotic mother. She has always made sure that I have a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my tummy, and a future she could only dream of. And just when I think I fucked up my life, she comes in and saves me, time and time again. Because of that while I have never had even close to everything I ever wanted, and for most of my life lived off of close to nothing, I have always had certainty.

Fuck it.

This time, I’m moving to the opposite coast. Where they have real seasons, public transportation that works, and very, very different people. I’m going to leave, and I’m going to be alone. I know that I’m probably going to cry, and be homesick, and I’m going to think that life sucks for a while. But I know that it’s going to be fine.
This time, I’m not running away, I’m moving on. I’m ready to finally do something completely for myself. And I’m ready to live my own life completely for myself.

I love California. I love Los Angeles. I love my family (both blood-related and not). But I have to love me a tiny bit more. I have to leave soon. But I promise, this time, I’m going to make California miss me too.

LOVE.

And the saddest part was that he would never know.

I have no reason to stay here she said. Of course you do, you love this city, he responded. I think I’m allowed to love more than one city she retorted. He shrugged and delivered a I guess so. What she wanted to say was that all she needed was one tiny reason to stay, but she knew he would never give her that. She really would like to stay and everyone knew it but him.

In a few short years she had fallen in love with both the good and the bad in the so-called city of angels. Even the traffic wasn’t such a big deal to her on most days. The air was always perfect, the sky the perfect shade of blue (in most parts of the city anyway) and the people were the best part. Living in Los Angeles, actually living not merely attending school in L.A., had instilled in her a sense of adventure. Angelinos come from all over. Many have seen the world and chosen to settle down in LA, many come looking to fulfill a dream, and some come just because the weather’s nice. Whatever reason, it is a city of wanderers and adventure-seeking folk. While the more affluent jet-setters travel to several nations, others are content to take a drive and explore the rest of the state, and on an even smaller scale, explore the city. There will always be somewhere in the city you’ve never been to, and visiting, exploring, and experiencing new things are what make Angelinos, Angelinos. She loved it.

And yet, she was forcing herself to leave it. You could say it was so that she could come back and appreciate the city more. You could also say it was to see what living on the opposite coast was like. You could even say it was just because she could. And while all of those reasons were in fact true, the real reason she knew she had to leave was that it had all begun to become unbearable. There was a limit to how many times she could lose him right in front of her eyes and that limit was soon to be reached. And so, she let him go. With all her things in boxes in her mother’s garage, and with her one huge luggage equipped with all she would need for a year, she hugged her family goodbye. Everyone had accompanied her to the airport, everyone but him.

She knew he couldn’t make it, he was working as usual. So they had their platonic goodbyes prior to her departure. But of course she wished for that movie script ending where he’d rush through the gates and bribe security to let him through so that just as she was about to hand the flight attendant her ticket he’d yell her name and beg her not to go. He would proclaim his love for her in front of hundreds of strangers in the airport, and then he’d take her in his arms and kiss her just like in a Clark Gable movie. But he never came.

She boarded the flight alone, and as she took her seat she sighed and prayed to God that she’d forget him. That one year would be enough to let him go. That one year would change everything. That in one year she’d find someone else who would love her back. But mostly she prayed that her leaving might make him love her. That’s the thing about prayers. Sometimes they feel like nothing more than wishes that we make ourselves believe in more. And many times wishes don’t come true. She prayed anyway. Because unlike wishes, God was in charge of prayers. And she had to believe that God had some kind of plan, hopefully an even better plan than she had ever imagined for herself.

Belief (2)

***So okay...I got some comments on the last post, so I decided to post a bit more of what the last one was. Same assignment, same class, just more of what came before it.

I believe that you have to find what makes you happy and do it. I think that believing I was supposed to be a doctor because it’s what my parents wanted of me was stupid. I think pursuing a career of anyone else’s choice but your own is stupid. I think that pursuing a career just because you think you’ll make some great fortune is stupid. I think that all of those reasons will merely result in you hating your job, and thus hating your life, enabling you to take this hate out on other people. I know that finding what makes you happy is the hardest thing to do, but that is what makes it worth it. I also know that it can take a very, very long time to find it, and that for many you have to spend a few years hating your job until you realize your calling. But once you find it, whether its running a huge corporation, or singing, or being a Mother, don’t ignore it, don’t let it go.

I believe it’s okay to make mistakes, but not okay to have regrets. Regrets are what happen when we don’t let go. If you can’t let go and learn from your mistakes, you’ll just end up making yourself sick. Mistakes add character, they are what make us who we are. If we were all perfect, we’d all be bored. If I was never a complete bitch in high school, I wouldn’t be able to have something to learn and grow from. Another very difficult part of life is letting go of your mistakes and not allowing them to turn into regrets, but you must. We must all move on, and we must all learn.

I would like to believe that people are inherently good, but I can’t. If people were inherently good, we wouldn’t have to work as hard to be nice. I think that people have to learn to be good people. People learn these things through family, through experience, and through interaction with others. I don’t think that babies are born and are evil, although at times it can definitely seem that way. But babies are innocent, and depending on when one loses that wide-eyed innocence is when the good is lost, and must be rebuilt and relearned. I don’t think that it’s a bad thing that people aren’t inherently good. I think that relearning goodness is one of the best experiences we can have. Because while we can never get our innocence back, kindness can be learned, which is as close to innocence as we can get.

I believe that strangers can change your life. I can honestly say that there are people I have never met who are the reason I am alive today. Characters in books, or movies, or tv shows, or even just random acts of kindness witnessed in a grocery store, can change our lives. We learn from them, we witness their benevolence from afar and are thus more able to appreciate it. It’s always harder to tell your deepest secrets to close friends or family than complete strangers. Because strangers don’t judge you, or if they do you’ll never know it because they’re mere passersby. It is the beauty of living in such a vast world. You will never be able to meet everyone in the country, let alone the world. Therefore the realization of the smallness of ourselves in comparison to the greatness of the world, helps us to be better people.

I believe that education is ridiculously important. This doesn’t have to be in a classroom. It can be in a church, or a temple, or a mosque, or a street corner, or a home, or even a bar. But I think that we should never, ever stop learning, nor should we feel greater than anyone else for being "traditionally educated." The greatest part of college is that you learn many different subjects, though you focus on one discipline, and you simultaneously learn so much about yourself. I think that people need to read more and watch television less, that people should listen to all sorts of music rather than just the songs that they can shake their asses to. I think that people should stop using text message lingo in real life speech, thus stopping the disintegration of the English language.

Belief.

***Disclaimer: This is a part of an assignment for a class I had this summer. It is probably the first and last time anything on here will really be about me.

I believe that if people relaxed in traffic, it would make it more bearable for everyone. I believe that my Mom is one of the smartest people I know. I believe that I have the greatest friends in the world. I believe that Los Angeles is one of the greatest cities ever. I believe that while Los Angeles has disgusting air quality and even more disgusting traffic, it’s the people that make it worthwhile. I believe that you should have safe sex before you’re married, because you can’t buy a car without test driving it. I don’t think that people should be whores before their married, but they should be aware that sex is a very important part of a relationship, but it is definitely not the most important. I believe that communication is the key to any successful relationship, partnership, business, and every other type of interaction between humans. I believe that it’s okay to be a little lost sometimes, because it lets you see and experience things you wouldn’t have if you had stayed on track. I believe that there is an unfathomable amount of beauty in the world. And I believe in Love.

I once tried to write a three minute speech about love for academic decathlon. My coach hated it, but still I learned a lot. I learned that there are three types of love, philos, eros, and agape. Philos is brotherly love, eros is erotic love, and agape is the greatest of all: sacrificial love. Well, that is what the text books talk about. While I am sure that there are different types of love, I don’t think it matters whatsoever. God never asked us to like anyone, but he did ask us to love everyone. When it comes down to it, if we all just try to love each other a little bit more, things would be so much better. I don’t know if we could change the world just by loving, in fact I highly doubt it. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t change our own worlds by loving.

I hated myself for the longest time. I pretended to have high self esteem so that people believed me when I said a cat scratched me when they saw the scars from where I cut myself. I pretended to feel pretty everyday, and to smile and giggle, and bat my eyelashes at the boys. It gets really tiring to act out an entire lifetime. And then, I just learned to let it all just go. I learned that I have no reason to hate myself, that my past is my past and there’s nothing I can do about it. But I can make today awesome, and hope that tomorrow’s even better. And the way to feel better, is to just love your heart out. Even on your crappiest day, you just have to remember how important you are to those who love you. Then you love them back, and it helps you to keep going, it helps you to put on a real smile, and let out a real laugh.

I believe in the goodness of others. I believe in the love of my friends and my family. And I believe that love is the greatest gift we have.