Archive for category Mi Vida
I have decided to take blogging a bit more serious and I have moved to Out of Ash’s
I am still WordPress hosted (why not) so expect the blog to feel the same with a different look! Hope to see you there!
It’s your road and your alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you.
Today I made one of the toughest decisions I have had to face until now. . .and I made it alone. Of course I confided in one of my dearest friends about it all (Oh, Steph, how indebted I am to you) and yes, my family gave me their strong opinions, but no one decided for me. Oh, and my best friend, Soldier, has been in the field all week so I only had a chance to send him a few brief texts that ultimately amounted to “Whatever you decide just make sure it’s what you want to do.”
I decided to put off graduate school (have yet to inform USF of this 30-minute old decision) for a position within a company that will one day lead to heading up the entire Hispanic marketing campaign for this company. Why did I choose it? For a few reasons:
1) I can live at home with my parents (we are making some new living arrangements within the next few weeks).
2) I can save money while living with my parents.
3) I can pay off debt from Florida Southern much sooner than I anticipated.
4) It’s a great straight out of school position that I can stay at for a few years (Soldier being Georgia helped me with this, too, but NO I am not the kind of girl to follow the prince charming around regardless of my dreams).
5) I can attend UCF part-time as soon as I have my feet grounded at the company.
6) It feels. . .right. . .for now at least.
7) I can work on my writing without the pressure of my studies (Ain’t it funny how I can focus on writing while dealing with the workplace, but not school?)
Making this decision made me realize that I am now an adult. I now control my own decisions. I now control my own finances (with a mom and dad that can bail me out ONLY if ABSOLUTELY needed). I am terrified of what the next few months hold. . .waking up early. . .business casual every day (I absolutely abhor having to be business casual every day). . .no window views. . .straight up REAL WORLD WORK.
But, I will keep wandering along my very own road until I come to another crossroads. . .
I’ve never been one to run around shouting, “Woe is me. . .woe is me.” But, tonight I am.
This afternoon I found out that I was accepted in to the University of South Florida’s Masters of Mass Communication porgram for the fall. I went through all of the emotions that come along with that kind of news. I cried. I laughed. I stood in awe. I prayed to my God. I felt at ease. . .
Then, my head began to throb again.
In January of 2007 I began to have terrible headaches. Imagine someone holding your head between their hands and squeezing with no mercy. . .now add a sledgehammer to that mix. . .pounding at their hands. Later that year, during the summer, I was diagnosed with Chiari Malformation I. I remember sitting in that doctor’s office at USF Health (ironic, huh) with the smell of latex gloves and industrial cleaner floating around me and sitting on that flimsy paper on the medical bed in shock as tears rolled down my cheeks.
“I have a what?” was all I could try to wrap my head around.
“The only solution is surgery, but even then it may not work. . .in your case it’s tough to tell whether it will,” one neurologist said.
“It won’t make a difference it’s too slight,” the neurosurgeon added.
They stepped out of the room. They came back. They had no solution to the headaches that had me in pain for days and even weeks at a time.
“They’re not migraines, but we’re going to try migraine meds for you,” was what the neurologist left me with.
Did they work? No. Nothing did.
When I have a headache all I want to do is cry. All I want to do is be left alone, but at the same time be held by my Bella (mom). There have even been times when I’ve just wanted to die because of the pain I found myself battling silently. I say silently because I know I am blessed. I know. I also know that everyone else has their problems, and who wants added pain to their day? But, as much as I tell myself, “Better me than someone else who doesn’t have a bed, air condition, food, etc.” I find myself asking God, “Why? Why can’t you just help me a little? Why can’t you just take it away for the night so I can rest? Why?” As I ask those questions at this very moment. . .I just want to shout them to the Heavens.
I have had the same headache for five days now. Just as in 2007 when I was faced with the news of having Chiari and not knowing if it would seriously interfere with my college career. . .I am now faced with whether it will affect my career at USF. I don’t want surgery. I don’t want more prescription – I’ve probably been on at least 18 different ones since 2007 – that leave me sick and debilitated. I just want to know what it feels like not to worry about a headache coming on at any moment.
Now, as I glance at what I have typed away. . .I feel pathetic. I have had a huge blessing today. . .and, here I am complaining.
I have two text messages from my parents summing up the love that I am surrounded with:
Daddy Your mom and I have just finished prayin for you. Anything let us know.
Bella Dad and I are very proud of you. We will help you with your Masters in anyway. Luv ya always. Will keep praying for you. Rest now. Lock doors.
But, still. . .tonight I can’t help, but ask my God, “Can You please just take it away for the night?”
Caminante, no hay puentes, se hace puentes al andar. Gloria E. Anzaldúa
I’ll be honest; I’m use to getting what I want all the time. Sound a bit selfish? Conceited? Immature? Well, yes, that is how it sounds, but let me explain.
Day after day, I work hard from the moment I wake up until I let my head fall upon my favorite pillow 16 hours later. My parents have always told me to work hard because nothing in life will be handed to you, and believe me, nothing in my life has been handed to me. I have spent countless hours on projects, at internships and working more than one job at a time to better myself. I’m not use to hearing “no” because at the end of the day I do not only convince others of my abilities, but I strive to perfect them and I make sure that I am better than my competition. I know I have not learned all that I need to live in this world, but I am aware of my weaknesses and am constantly working on turning those weaknesses into attributes that will push me over the top.
So, now that I am faced with an uncertain future, I feel lost. I feel as if all of the work I have put in over the last four years in college are nothing. I feel as if all of those words of encouragement from my parents over the past 22 years are lies.
As some of my closest friends are being offered their first full-time jobs before graduation. I am waiting.
Waiting for a reply from the University of South Florida’s selection committee for entry into their Masters of Arts in Communications: Multimedia program. Waiting to hear back from one of the 15 jobs I have applied for over the last two months. Waiting.
Right now the only comfort I have is when I think remember that God has my back (only way I can word that feeling right now) and Ms. Anzaldua’s words. I just have to keep moving during this time of waiting and build my own bridges. Just have to move through this waiting room.
I have been sick for three days now and today I finally decided to make a doctor appointment for tomorrow. I hate going to the doctor even though I feel like I have a visit 3-5 times a year for some other issues. I like to think the way my abuela use to think and the way my dad thinks “It’s all in your head.” Even though I am 3rd generation Mexican-American I am still being told how “Mexican” I am and I take pride in that. I am still stubborn as can be when it comes to admitting weaknesses. I hate all of those new “tools” for cooking – if abuela didn’t need it I surely don’t need it either. I love my watermelon with chile and need salsita for even American food. And, I come out with some of the most random dichos that leave friends looking at me like I’m insane.
Although my Spanish falters some days and I catch myself caught up in American pop music, I like to think that I have held on to my Mexican roots and always will…hasta la madre!
And, another thing…What is it about the site of VapoRub on my bedside table that makes me feel like I will wake up in the morning free of aches and coughs?
So this is how it ends
This is where it all goes down
This is what “I don’t love you” feels like
It ain’t the middle of the night
And it ain’t even raining outside
It ain’t exactly what I had in mind
At a red light in the sunshine
On a Sunday
Nothin’ to say
Don’t even try
It’s been exactly – yes, even down to the minute – five days since everything happened. I haven’t had much time to just sit down and think about what’s happened. Well, I have thought about it, but not on my own. I have been reminded about our relationship at red lights, while getting into my car, while watching a YouTube video about a father-daughter duo, and even at what was once my haven – the baseball stadium.
But want to know the worst part?