Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Sometimes, everything I wanna say comes out in emails...
Message to a friend, sent a few minutes ago:
things are going fabulous on my end, mama. and by "fabulous," I basically mean I'm making a lotta conclusions & decisions & moves that I shoulda made yeeeeaars ago. LOL this has to do with school, with my family, with relationships, with friendships... I'm coming to grips with the reality of things: how they are and how I want them to be aren't sympatico - but that's okay cuz they're in a good enough place to get me where I wanna be. I'm tryna make some "takin over the world" kinda moves, with big money and lots of respect and none of the status (thass just how I do - don't need everyone knowing what kinda big moves I make; I'd rather see how they'd treat me if I were like everyone else). I guess it boils down to the fact that there are people who weigh me down by being themselves, whether intentionally or unintentionally, and I can no longer be the nice person to be like "sure, you hold me back, but I love you and I'll let you continue to bring me down. matter fact, I'll enable you to pull some straight BS on me." I ain't masochistic like that... at least, not anymore.
anywhos, that's me in a nutshell right therr. LOL how are things with school going? you need an extra client any time soon? I'd letcha practice whatever you haven't had a chance to do yet!
XO-M
things are going fabulous on my end, mama. and by "fabulous," I basically mean I'm making a lotta conclusions & decisions & moves that I shoulda made yeeeeaars ago. LOL this has to do with school, with my family, with relationships, with friendships... I'm coming to grips with the reality of things: how they are and how I want them to be aren't sympatico - but that's okay cuz they're in a good enough place to get me where I wanna be. I'm tryna make some "takin over the world" kinda moves, with big money and lots of respect and none of the status (thass just how I do - don't need everyone knowing what kinda big moves I make; I'd rather see how they'd treat me if I were like everyone else). I guess it boils down to the fact that there are people who weigh me down by being themselves, whether intentionally or unintentionally, and I can no longer be the nice person to be like "sure, you hold me back, but I love you and I'll let you continue to bring me down. matter fact, I'll enable you to pull some straight BS on me." I ain't masochistic like that... at least, not anymore.
anywhos, that's me in a nutshell right therr. LOL how are things with school going? you need an extra client any time soon? I'd letcha practice whatever you haven't had a chance to do yet!
XO-M
Friday, February 1, 2008
I'm a Living Revision
That last entry was birthed from a prompt that Joe thought up in yesterday's class: "What are your dreams?" I flowed my piece out and the kids were thoroughly impressed by it. I say "kids" even though some of em are in their late teens and early twenties; they're attendees of University Heights High School in the Bronx,an alternative school where everyone - staff, teachers, students, the principal - is known by their first names. Bea (aka BKD) introduced me to this motley crew of awesome young people who spit poetry into the eyes of every adversary - a failing educational system, low economic class, physical and emotional abuse, etc. - that dares stare them down. Fo real, it's straight up The Great Debaters meets Dangerous Minds. These kids have such amazing stories and they tell them well. They're bright. They're driven. They're such good kids. Lots of them are depressed and most of them are ignorant of information that should've been taught through the public education system or their parents - but that's okay because I'm in that same boat, sometimes sad beyond recognition and failed by the systems that were supposed to set me free.
I'm supposed to get paid a hundred bucks her "session," and because the sessions are all less than five hours, it breaks down to more than twenty bucks an hour, which helps to make the two-hour commutes worthwhile. But seriously: I'd go even if I wasn't getting paid.
The sessions are classes in "power writing." We (the staff) impart words of wisdom, treat the students as equals, and generally guide their writing and their presentation of their pieces. We counsel them on life's issues, explain through anectdotes, academics and experience facts and history, and generally have a good time.
I feel like I shouldn't get paid because I'm learning just as much (if not more) than I'm teaching. Still, I'm writing Amy (the cool-as-hell-boss-lady) an email asking if/when I can start getting paid for my services. There's an after-school-special/public-service-announcement/Hallmark-card-made-for-TV-movie feel about working with this non-profit organization. Despite the shoddy reputation of the issues we (un)cover, there is an overwhelming feeling of wholesomeness which pervades the sessions. We all have good energy, and we respect one another and want to challenge each other and ourselves. We seek to better ourselves.
This is in stark contrast to the feeling I get when I hang out with lots of my peers. Their lives are steeped in "adult worries" like making money and fulfilling the status quo - so that they're not trying to better themselves. Their idea of a good time is getting fucked up, partying, and getting laid - which is cool, but gets old. What kind of life is spent without asking questions? Without striving to make your own conclusions? Without actively attempting to learn?
For the first time ever, I'm seriously considering going into teaching. All this despite the desire to make a six-figure income and my decision to move to the Philippines. But I'll speak more on all that later.
I'm supposed to get paid a hundred bucks her "session," and because the sessions are all less than five hours, it breaks down to more than twenty bucks an hour, which helps to make the two-hour commutes worthwhile. But seriously: I'd go even if I wasn't getting paid.
The sessions are classes in "power writing." We (the staff) impart words of wisdom, treat the students as equals, and generally guide their writing and their presentation of their pieces. We counsel them on life's issues, explain through anectdotes, academics and experience facts and history, and generally have a good time.
I feel like I shouldn't get paid because I'm learning just as much (if not more) than I'm teaching. Still, I'm writing Amy (the cool-as-hell-boss-lady) an email asking if/when I can start getting paid for my services. There's an after-school-special/public-service-announcement/Hallmark-card-made-for-TV-movie feel about working with this non-profit organization. Despite the shoddy reputation of the issues we (un)cover, there is an overwhelming feeling of wholesomeness which pervades the sessions. We all have good energy, and we respect one another and want to challenge each other and ourselves. We seek to better ourselves.
This is in stark contrast to the feeling I get when I hang out with lots of my peers. Their lives are steeped in "adult worries" like making money and fulfilling the status quo - so that they're not trying to better themselves. Their idea of a good time is getting fucked up, partying, and getting laid - which is cool, but gets old. What kind of life is spent without asking questions? Without striving to make your own conclusions? Without actively attempting to learn?
For the first time ever, I'm seriously considering going into teaching. All this despite the desire to make a six-figure income and my decision to move to the Philippines. But I'll speak more on all that later.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Today's Word is "Confidence"
I keep meaning to write something substantial up here, but I'm stopped by the sensation that some living is meant for the memorialization of fictionalization - and not memoir.
Instead of diving deep into the drama (which I often do), I'm gonna keep it short and sweet: a synopsis of all that I've been up to. And, along the way, I'll start naming people, since I'm kinda getting tired of using initials.
1) Getting my swerve on whenever I get the chance. It's scary how naturally this comes to me. One second, I'll be dancing on a table, the next I'll be fucking a guy in a public restroom - and none of it fazes me anymore. I find these sexcapades so passe that I don't even bother mentioning them in person. I mean, yeah, sex is great, but it's only sex. If it's really that interesting to you, you're probably not doing it enough and/or don't have much of a life.
This is probably why I shrug off all sexual advances - and I've been getting a lot of them lately. Aside from the daily barrages of boys, girls, men, and women who bask in my beauty and ask to get a taste, there's been an onslaught of dudes that happen to have remembered me in the past six months. Maybe it's cuz they caught wind about my leaving the country, or maybe Asian women are in season - but accountants, rappers, drug dealers, models, actors, DJs, MCs, doctors, financial analysts, stock brokers, students, wanna-be film makers, etc. are flooding my cell phone. And I really couldn't care less.
2) Realizing that some friends truly are family - but that doesn't mean they know me and/or we vibe 24/7. There are moments when I'll be hanging out with someone and we are undoubtedly tuned in to the same frequency of life and understanding. We can expound on each others' thoughts and assist each other in broadening our mutual horizons. We realize that we have similar passions, interests and priorities, and feel less alone in the world. We develop respect for each others' thoughts and ideas. More and more, the people with whom I have these attachments and relationships are people that I haven't known all that long. They're people that I happen upon by circumstance and intuition, and they are on similar paths as myself. I look to these people for guidance, instruction, and assistance in the difficulties of my adulthood. For these reasons, these people should rightfully be called my "best friends" - but they're not.
I call Dallas, Yvonne, and Ariane my best friends. Not because we have common interests or because they understand me the best (truth be told, there are times when I feel like we don't know each other at all), but because we have a history together and I know that when push comes to shove, they'll help bury a body at a moment's notice and the only question they'll ask is, "What story do I have to tell the authorities?"
I mentioned this to Tori today as she was helping me sort out my finances, and she said, "Seriously? That's your criteria for calling someone your best friend?"
"Sure," I said. "We love each other unconditinally, and we're there for each other no matter what."
After laughing at how redundant I sounded, Tori sucked on her teeth. "I'm willing to fork over a couple thousand dollars to help you pay your mortgage," she reminded me, "no questions asked. Your writer friends help engage your imagination and your passion - and don't have ill will towards your success, which is very hard. Your activist friends heighten your awareness and your hope - all while entertaining your monthly bouts of depression and cynicism. I can name off the top of my head people who would take a bullet for you, if it came down to that - and all you have is 'they're willing to dump a body and corroborate a story to the cops'? If that's the case, you have a lot more best friends than you realize."
Later on in the conversation, as I was crying on the phone and talking about my family's financial crisis, Tori made an observation that frightens and validates me and my feelings. "You say that you couldn't leave your family because when push comes to shove, they're there for you - and you think you need that, even if sometimes you question their worth. Maybe that's what your best friends are: your family."
3) No matter how far I stray from the path I feel I should be on, sooner or later, I always find my way. For the past few months, I haven't felt like myself. I was taking in all of my acquired life experience and academic knowledge. I was steeping in feelings and options. I was growing up and growing out of the person I used to be, and in that process, I was afraid that people wouldn't understand me or like me. I was afraid that I'd be labeled by some people as "corny" or "lame." I was embarassed and frightened that I'd no longer be the crazy, loud, show-stopping diva that people had become accustomed to.
And then, one day, I was Me.
I really couldn't care less what you think of Me.
4) I really like the structure brought to my life by working all the time, etc. I'm getting back in the grind, writing, performing, teaching, looking for another source of steady income, etc. I'm more invested now in my life than ever before. I have a sense of self that's unparalleled. I'm crazy comfortable in my skin and able to take responsibility for my life and everything it entails. Things are so clear to me now: who I am, what I want, what I need. This faith in myself is absolutely intoxicating. I wake up and feel like I have purpose. I deal with situations with ease and understanding. I write and learn and read and teach and feel a part of everything.
Even after being diagnosed for cervical cancer and coming through that alive, I didn't feel such an overwhelming sense of resolve and hope. These days, I'm filled with confidence and appreciation for everything that I have and encounter. More than that...
5) I'm done with fear. They say there's nothing to fear but fear itself. I feel like I've been afraid of everything: Rocking the boat. Not rocking the boat. Not living up to my parents' expectations. Only living up to my parents' expectations. Making too much money. Not making enough money.
I've always been extremely aware of myself and my place in the greater scheme of things. I'm not one to overdo or underdo. I've strived to strike the right balance in everything, and make a positive impact on as much as possible.
But there's a downside in keeping such a keen eye on yourself: you forget to just Be. So that's what I'm doing now: just being, and knowing that I'm inclined to fulfill wonderful and extraordinary feats. In the face of the impending storm of family drama, financial drama, etc., I feel good. Really, really good.
Instead of diving deep into the drama (which I often do), I'm gonna keep it short and sweet: a synopsis of all that I've been up to. And, along the way, I'll start naming people, since I'm kinda getting tired of using initials.
1) Getting my swerve on whenever I get the chance. It's scary how naturally this comes to me. One second, I'll be dancing on a table, the next I'll be fucking a guy in a public restroom - and none of it fazes me anymore. I find these sexcapades so passe that I don't even bother mentioning them in person. I mean, yeah, sex is great, but it's only sex. If it's really that interesting to you, you're probably not doing it enough and/or don't have much of a life.
This is probably why I shrug off all sexual advances - and I've been getting a lot of them lately. Aside from the daily barrages of boys, girls, men, and women who bask in my beauty and ask to get a taste, there's been an onslaught of dudes that happen to have remembered me in the past six months. Maybe it's cuz they caught wind about my leaving the country, or maybe Asian women are in season - but accountants, rappers, drug dealers, models, actors, DJs, MCs, doctors, financial analysts, stock brokers, students, wanna-be film makers, etc. are flooding my cell phone. And I really couldn't care less.
2) Realizing that some friends truly are family - but that doesn't mean they know me and/or we vibe 24/7. There are moments when I'll be hanging out with someone and we are undoubtedly tuned in to the same frequency of life and understanding. We can expound on each others' thoughts and assist each other in broadening our mutual horizons. We realize that we have similar passions, interests and priorities, and feel less alone in the world. We develop respect for each others' thoughts and ideas. More and more, the people with whom I have these attachments and relationships are people that I haven't known all that long. They're people that I happen upon by circumstance and intuition, and they are on similar paths as myself. I look to these people for guidance, instruction, and assistance in the difficulties of my adulthood. For these reasons, these people should rightfully be called my "best friends" - but they're not.
I call Dallas, Yvonne, and Ariane my best friends. Not because we have common interests or because they understand me the best (truth be told, there are times when I feel like we don't know each other at all), but because we have a history together and I know that when push comes to shove, they'll help bury a body at a moment's notice and the only question they'll ask is, "What story do I have to tell the authorities?"
I mentioned this to Tori today as she was helping me sort out my finances, and she said, "Seriously? That's your criteria for calling someone your best friend?"
"Sure," I said. "We love each other unconditinally, and we're there for each other no matter what."
After laughing at how redundant I sounded, Tori sucked on her teeth. "I'm willing to fork over a couple thousand dollars to help you pay your mortgage," she reminded me, "no questions asked. Your writer friends help engage your imagination and your passion - and don't have ill will towards your success, which is very hard. Your activist friends heighten your awareness and your hope - all while entertaining your monthly bouts of depression and cynicism. I can name off the top of my head people who would take a bullet for you, if it came down to that - and all you have is 'they're willing to dump a body and corroborate a story to the cops'? If that's the case, you have a lot more best friends than you realize."
Later on in the conversation, as I was crying on the phone and talking about my family's financial crisis, Tori made an observation that frightens and validates me and my feelings. "You say that you couldn't leave your family because when push comes to shove, they're there for you - and you think you need that, even if sometimes you question their worth. Maybe that's what your best friends are: your family."
3) No matter how far I stray from the path I feel I should be on, sooner or later, I always find my way. For the past few months, I haven't felt like myself. I was taking in all of my acquired life experience and academic knowledge. I was steeping in feelings and options. I was growing up and growing out of the person I used to be, and in that process, I was afraid that people wouldn't understand me or like me. I was afraid that I'd be labeled by some people as "corny" or "lame." I was embarassed and frightened that I'd no longer be the crazy, loud, show-stopping diva that people had become accustomed to.
And then, one day, I was Me.
I really couldn't care less what you think of Me.
4) I really like the structure brought to my life by working all the time, etc. I'm getting back in the grind, writing, performing, teaching, looking for another source of steady income, etc. I'm more invested now in my life than ever before. I have a sense of self that's unparalleled. I'm crazy comfortable in my skin and able to take responsibility for my life and everything it entails. Things are so clear to me now: who I am, what I want, what I need. This faith in myself is absolutely intoxicating. I wake up and feel like I have purpose. I deal with situations with ease and understanding. I write and learn and read and teach and feel a part of everything.
Even after being diagnosed for cervical cancer and coming through that alive, I didn't feel such an overwhelming sense of resolve and hope. These days, I'm filled with confidence and appreciation for everything that I have and encounter. More than that...
5) I'm done with fear. They say there's nothing to fear but fear itself. I feel like I've been afraid of everything: Rocking the boat. Not rocking the boat. Not living up to my parents' expectations. Only living up to my parents' expectations. Making too much money. Not making enough money.
I've always been extremely aware of myself and my place in the greater scheme of things. I'm not one to overdo or underdo. I've strived to strike the right balance in everything, and make a positive impact on as much as possible.
But there's a downside in keeping such a keen eye on yourself: you forget to just Be. So that's what I'm doing now: just being, and knowing that I'm inclined to fulfill wonderful and extraordinary feats. In the face of the impending storm of family drama, financial drama, etc., I feel good. Really, really good.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Star light star bright, first star I see tonight...
Please please please please snow so hard tonight that a foot and a half of dense white coldness will have blanketed the streets and sidewalks by dawn. I don't want to have to take my finals tomorrow...
Friday, December 14, 2007
On Misplaced Energies
FORWARD: I'm not sure that this really makes sense, but it's what I was thinking at the time...
***
It's four in the morning and I can't sleep. The roads are too slippery for me to drive, and I don't feel like busting my ass on the ice. I'm editing my latest story and realizing that a lot of it is probably crap. The thing is, I'm proud of it. In it I admit jealousy and pettiness and a slew of other emotions that I am only capable of feeling until they are put into words. After they're released on the page, I can get back to being the boring and decent individual that I attempt to be; those are the people that seem normal, and these days, I crave normality.
I spent the last two hours ironing clothes. I felt like it would dull my mind and make me sleep, but the repetitive action only let my mind wander aimlessly. I daydreamed about the next five years of my life: earning a physician's assistance degree while soaking in tropical sun, bonding with my extended family, indulging my maternal side by playing house with all of my cousins' kids, expanding young minds and building their characters, learning my heritage up close and personal, finding the time and relaxation to write, being less westernized and urban, fulfilling my desire to learn my parents' native language; then, coming back to the States, earning a good wage, going back to school in order to earn the long list of degrees that I want, reestablishing myself with the literary connections that I've made, fixing up and adding to my house, setting my folks up for "early retirement" so they can live it up in the Philippines while they're still healthy enough to enjoy it, renting out rooms in my house to my friends/fellow bohemian types, buying more property, living the dream.
It all feels so tangible and within my grasp, and for the first time in my life I'm not intimidated by this fact. I want it and I'm not afraid to admit that I want it. I'm painfully aware that Murphy's Law loves me, but I don't care. I'm gonna make it.
***
When I tell people that I'm going overseas, I cite various reasons. The one fact that sticks out, though, is that I'm the first-born child of immigrants who have never gotten their heads out of the clouds. Perhaps that's why I'm as "innocent" as I am, and still have wonder in my eyes and hope in my soul - but it's also why I have to be the one to handle the family finances. Much to the detriment of our collective economic status, my parents have never understood the meaning of "living within one's means." Perhaps it was guilt, or lack of planning, or just plain ignorance, but both of my parents act as if we were the sole owners of a bottomless pit of cash.
Now that they're facing their second bankruptcy, their assets are in danger of being repossessed, and the house is in constant danger of being foreclosed, I must push my altruistic-idealistic-romantic notions of finding an occupation which speaks to my soul - writing, teaching, nonprofit work, etc. - in order to make a living doing something that earns lots of money. And even though I'm doing it for my family, a part of me wants to give it up. Like KC said a few weeks ago, "There comes a point when you have to stop blaming your family for your craziness, and become your own person."
This resolve to earn a physician's assistance degree and make money is exactly that. I feel like it's my chance to give up the craziness that is my family's neediness; ironically, I must do that by first fully giving in to it.
And maybe that's why I'm thinking so much of MG these days. To the untrained eye it might appear as though she's giving up on her lawyerly goals and her liberal ideals, but that's simply not the case. In order to fulfill her own desires, she must first indulge her pragmatic consciousness, which demands that she be financially supported before she can resume her course. I've only got this one life to learn from, but this much I've realized: people who are true to themselves don't have misplaced energies. Their lives usually follow this pattern: Step 1: let your passion dictate what you want to learn. Step 2: Give yourself the means to live comfortably. Step 3: enjoy the hell out of the experiences you want to make your life about.
"I don't think it was jealousy," MG said to me. "I just felt like that should've been me. I should've been the one graduating from law school and making $125,000 during my first year as a lawyer."
I laughed with MG, aware that her self-depracating tone was as much mockery as it was truth. From the moment I met her in the Fall of 1998, the one thing I knew about MG was that she wanted to be a lawyer. In high school, she had joined the debate team, won trophies for her arguments, and had even earned the role of co-captain for the team. As time went by, her experiences refined her path and identity, and she became more and more involved with politics and altruism. She was convinced of her lawyerly ambitions, and every chance she got, she pulled me into whatever she was working on. Luckily for me, my path constantly merged with MG's; she shaped my political awareness and altruism more than anyone I've known.
When MG decided against the big bucks of corporate law in favor of the work-for-the-little-guy feel of nonprofit law, it was only another hint at her awesome humanitarianism. "I've been poor my whole life," she jokingly said to me. "There's no use in changing that now." And maybe that's why she was the root of my civic-mindedness. It was MG who introduced me to NYPIRG; MG who came up with the idea of OICE; MG who championed all of my endeavors, despite the craziness or abdurdity with which others labeled them. More than that, it was MG whose heartstrings were tugged by the pain of women who had stories of neglect and abuse. She was undeniably human in her sympathies, but also completely humane - a characteristic not attributed to most people. In her was the rationality behind lofty ideals, a dissonant yin and yang that made her more relatable.
Whenever I've felt like my moral compass might slip, it's MG I call to keep me steady. I think of her a lot these days, as I prepare for my life in the Philippines. Although her altruism is undoubtedly intact and she remains a steadfast supporter of women's rights, religious charity, and the next generation of do-gooders (among other worthwhile aims), she has put her legal goals on the backburner. MG's path has gone in an entirely new direction, and she is now in an amazing corporate communications graduate program'; she will no doubt be earning a good wage in the near future.
I laughed with MG, aware that her self-depracating tone was as much mockery as it was truth. From the moment I met her in the Fall of 1998, the one thing I knew about MG was that she wanted to be a lawyer. In high school, she had joined the debate team, won trophies for her arguments, and had even earned the role of co-captain for the team. As time went by, her experiences refined her path and identity, and she became more and more involved with politics and altruism. She was convinced of her lawyerly ambitions, and every chance she got, she pulled me into whatever she was working on. Luckily for me, my path constantly merged with MG's; she shaped my political awareness and altruism more than anyone I've known.
When MG decided against the big bucks of corporate law in favor of the work-for-the-little-guy feel of nonprofit law, it was only another hint at her awesome humanitarianism. "I've been poor my whole life," she jokingly said to me. "There's no use in changing that now." And maybe that's why she was the root of my civic-mindedness. It was MG who introduced me to NYPIRG; MG who came up with the idea of OICE; MG who championed all of my endeavors, despite the craziness or abdurdity with which others labeled them. More than that, it was MG whose heartstrings were tugged by the pain of women who had stories of neglect and abuse. She was undeniably human in her sympathies, but also completely humane - a characteristic not attributed to most people. In her was the rationality behind lofty ideals, a dissonant yin and yang that made her more relatable.
Whenever I've felt like my moral compass might slip, it's MG I call to keep me steady. I think of her a lot these days, as I prepare for my life in the Philippines. Although her altruism is undoubtedly intact and she remains a steadfast supporter of women's rights, religious charity, and the next generation of do-gooders (among other worthwhile aims), she has put her legal goals on the backburner. MG's path has gone in an entirely new direction, and she is now in an amazing corporate communications graduate program'; she will no doubt be earning a good wage in the near future.
***
It's four in the morning and I can't sleep. The roads are too slippery for me to drive, and I don't feel like busting my ass on the ice. I'm editing my latest story and realizing that a lot of it is probably crap. The thing is, I'm proud of it. In it I admit jealousy and pettiness and a slew of other emotions that I am only capable of feeling until they are put into words. After they're released on the page, I can get back to being the boring and decent individual that I attempt to be; those are the people that seem normal, and these days, I crave normality.
I spent the last two hours ironing clothes. I felt like it would dull my mind and make me sleep, but the repetitive action only let my mind wander aimlessly. I daydreamed about the next five years of my life: earning a physician's assistance degree while soaking in tropical sun, bonding with my extended family, indulging my maternal side by playing house with all of my cousins' kids, expanding young minds and building their characters, learning my heritage up close and personal, finding the time and relaxation to write, being less westernized and urban, fulfilling my desire to learn my parents' native language; then, coming back to the States, earning a good wage, going back to school in order to earn the long list of degrees that I want, reestablishing myself with the literary connections that I've made, fixing up and adding to my house, setting my folks up for "early retirement" so they can live it up in the Philippines while they're still healthy enough to enjoy it, renting out rooms in my house to my friends/fellow bohemian types, buying more property, living the dream.
It all feels so tangible and within my grasp, and for the first time in my life I'm not intimidated by this fact. I want it and I'm not afraid to admit that I want it. I'm painfully aware that Murphy's Law loves me, but I don't care. I'm gonna make it.
***
When I tell people that I'm going overseas, I cite various reasons. The one fact that sticks out, though, is that I'm the first-born child of immigrants who have never gotten their heads out of the clouds. Perhaps that's why I'm as "innocent" as I am, and still have wonder in my eyes and hope in my soul - but it's also why I have to be the one to handle the family finances. Much to the detriment of our collective economic status, my parents have never understood the meaning of "living within one's means." Perhaps it was guilt, or lack of planning, or just plain ignorance, but both of my parents act as if we were the sole owners of a bottomless pit of cash.
Now that they're facing their second bankruptcy, their assets are in danger of being repossessed, and the house is in constant danger of being foreclosed, I must push my altruistic-idealistic-romantic notions of finding an occupation which speaks to my soul - writing, teaching, nonprofit work, etc. - in order to make a living doing something that earns lots of money. And even though I'm doing it for my family, a part of me wants to give it up. Like KC said a few weeks ago, "There comes a point when you have to stop blaming your family for your craziness, and become your own person."
This resolve to earn a physician's assistance degree and make money is exactly that. I feel like it's my chance to give up the craziness that is my family's neediness; ironically, I must do that by first fully giving in to it.
And maybe that's why I'm thinking so much of MG these days. To the untrained eye it might appear as though she's giving up on her lawyerly goals and her liberal ideals, but that's simply not the case. In order to fulfill her own desires, she must first indulge her pragmatic consciousness, which demands that she be financially supported before she can resume her course. I've only got this one life to learn from, but this much I've realized: people who are true to themselves don't have misplaced energies. Their lives usually follow this pattern: Step 1: let your passion dictate what you want to learn. Step 2: Give yourself the means to live comfortably. Step 3: enjoy the hell out of the experiences you want to make your life about.
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