Master of None

My dad was a Renaissance man; he was good at everything he tried.  He was creative: a poet, musician, and artist.  He was handy: built his own car, hired as an engineer w/o the formal training, fixed everything at the house, and grew his own garden.  He was a self-taught man, and he did good.  I've admired and centered my life on his intellectualism, and what I think he would've wanted for me.

I seem to have been blessed with his same innate ability to be pretty good at everything I try.  Socially, I embrace it, celebrate it, flaunt it.  Yes, I like a lot of subjects.  Yes, I have taken classes on almost every topic.  Yes, I love learning.  And, yes, I perform equally well at both left and right brain activities.

But being a jack of all trades comes at a high price.

My resume is a perfect example:  administrative, marketing, teaching, medical environment, kids entertainment, writing, photography.  I definitely bring a lot to the table.  But does it carry any weight?  No job offers yet.

My dad, the man whose intellect will perpetually live on a pedestal for me, came to the US and worked as cashier at a gas station, a factory worker, building maintenance guy, a copy machine operator, and a security guard (in no particular order).  His bank account never reflected his skills or intelligence.

I graduated from a decent university (go Canes!), did a double major and a minor; have worked with major companies (Disney, Viacom); have pretty advanced computer skills.  You'd say I did good.  But will it do any good for me?

As I currently search for a job, I see myself more and more living a pararllel life to that of my dad's.  My bank account will always be low, sometimes overdraft; but my life will teem with good memories.

And perhaps one day someone will remember me as I do my father: an artist, an intellectual, a great person to have known in my life.

< me and my pops...as you can see, i also got his looks! ;)

Perpetual Purgatory

Purgatory means different things to different people. Though I consider myself to be spiritual, I am in no way religious, so ixnay on the Catholic definition of purgatory for me (though I was raised in a pseudo-Catholic home). For me, purgatory represents the idea of a place where waiting takes place. Think of it as a giant waiting room (at a clinic, office, or anywhere else they make you wait before they see you).

Like with any waiting room, you tend to be miserable and perhaps feel tortured (can't change the TV, sitting next to a creep, forgot to bring something to read and your cell battery died, the old person next to you is coughing on you, it's really cold and you have no sweater...you get the picture). But the worst feeling has got to be the endless anxiety of not knowing what will actually happen when they call you in.

Purgatory is meant to be temporary, as are waiting rooms, a last chance to suck it up and deal with whatever is coming your way (hell, heaven, job interview, etc.). Sometimes, though, it can feel never-ending and that creates the worst anxiety.

I live in perpetual purgatory. I'm on a perma-transition mode when it comes to both career and personal choices. I keep waiting for someone to call my name and open the door to let me in, out of the white-walled dead-flower-smelling waiting room I've been hanging out in for at least the last 10 years.

Though it is true that I feed off of the excitement coupled with uncertainty of pursuing something new, age is taking a toll. My patience has worn thin. I can't wait anymore.

I honestly don't know what awaits me, but I'm ready to find out, even if I have to buzz myself in.

World, here I come!

La retórica es tu arma mas letál--Shakira

The old childhood saying "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," is as far from the truth as it gets. Though physically true, the power of words can have a much more crippling effect than a broken bone.

In the song "No," Shakira sings to an ex to stop speaking in plural form, admitting that his rhetoric is his most lethal weapon. A powerful statement in and of itself. Though I am a firm believer that psychological damage is much more painful and more difficult to overcome, there are only a few people that I have met that truly can use language as a weapon. Of course, they don't (for the most part) realize their power, which is pretty scary too, but prevents them from doing even more damage.

Dealing with people like this is hard, especially when you love them and highly value their opinion. When you ask (or when it is unsolicited) for advice, you must bear the truth as only they can deliver, and that can be grueling. Worse even is when you get into a fight with one of these diction soldiers. Their words sting, and they always aim for open wounds to up the pain factor. I must be a masochist because I naturally am surrounded by such creatures.

But as a communication theory grad I must add my following observation. Theory teaches us that the goal of communication is silence; a point of such deep understanding that words are superfluous. Note: silence therefore denotes meaning (specified by those involved). Now I know that as the goal of communication silence plays a positive role representing the interconnectedness of a relationship, but I say if words can be ruthless in meaning, a silent response is heavy and shattering. Lethal, if you will, as it difinitively marks an end.

A cold shoulder, the silent treatment, the blatant disregard for someone who awaits on your reply, that, my friends, is the most cruel and selfish act you can commit. It can be the most painful experience one can endure, more so when it is done by the person whom you love and trust most.

To add insult to injury, when you finally accept the silence (usually accompanied by a side of heartache) and move on, it starts raining apologies and excuses. Well, Shakira (a very powerful writer) says it best:

No,
No intentes disculparte,
No jueges a insistir,
Las escusas ya existian antes de ti.

No,
No me mires como antes,
No hables en plural,
La retórica es tu arma mas letál.

Voy a pedirte que no vuelvas mas,
Siento que me dueles todavia aqui [adentro]
Y que a tu edad sepas bien lo que es...
Romperle el corazón a alguien así...