Tag Archives: Growing Up

Sometimes Growing Feels Right

A few days ago I was feeling nostalgic about childhood. Well, I was really just missing the days when I didn’t have a job.

The other day when I was at work, I realized that I was glancing at the clock every other minute. I didn’t necessarily mean to do so, but wanting to be outside those doors kept me waiting for the time I’d be off. I wondered how many people felt like this on a daily basis.

Wouldn’t it be great to love so much what you’re doing, to the point that you often forget to look at how long it’ll be until get you off? I know a lot of people often talk about this. “Better to be a taxi driver if that’s what you love to do, than be a CEO and hate it.” But of course I’ve never heard a CEO complain about their jobs.

In any case, I’ve been reading one of my future professor’s work. Her specialty is witness testimony in a courtroom. She’s just brilliant. Reading her work made me regret the fact that I didn’t study science, but it also made me look forward to what’s ahead for me. If I’m lucky, this means countless of hours spent doing something  I’m enjoy, and getting paid for it!

This is exactly when growing finally feels right.

-Mrs. This One

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Friday Night

The Mrs. is out on her History Dinners (along with some graduate students), and I have been watching the 5th season of Friday Night Lights for the past few hours. I’m supposed to be doing homework, but it’s hard to do homework when you’re upset (long story). I am almost on the last episode, so I won’t be procrastinating for too long.

Today I got accepted to Local Law School. Not my favorite one, but I’m sure it’s a fine school. I’m going to plan a visit soon. I should have done so before, but time is hard to find these days. I think I could even sit in a class and everything.

It’s weird, I remember thinking that I was so far away from a day like today- yet, here I am. Growing up went by so quickly, though I know I have more growing up to do. But really, how crazy is it? To be graduating from college soon. Me. The kid who was working full time after high school because college wasn’t going to be an option. The kid who waited tables, specifically to Duke students, thinking that one day, I could be changing the world instead. The kid who sold hot dogs to attorneys in downtown, rushing to another trial.

Getting here wasn’t easy, and I certainly didn’t do it alone. And even if tonight, on a Friday night, I find myself without company, there’s no question that I’ve been blessed to be where I am today.

-Mrs. This One

Happy birthday, best friend! I am so lucky to have found you and to still have you in my life. You are still my wonderful present. I’m sorry for the distance, and the lack of time. But you have me, today, tomorrow and always. You can always count on me, as I’d always do anything for you. Friends like you are hard to come by. Thank you for sticking around. 

 


No Regrets

“No more talk about law school!” Chimed in my wife at about 1:30am. She was not feeling well, and I was keeping us up yet again with another law school conversation. I just can’t stop talking about it. In fact, talking about it makes me feel better because then I don’t have all of these thoughts messing up with my brain. But in making an effort not to talk about law school, allow me to change the topic:

We took our little cousin (well, he’s my wife’s cousin, but I’m pretty attached) to a movie last night, Sherlock Holmes 2. Let me tell you a little bit about him. He was the cutest little kid when I met him. Always wanting to play around with a ball. Which worked just fine with me, since I love to play soccer.

But then, some years later, he completely changed. He was no longer the soccer player, but now rather a grim teenager. He decided to go “emo.” Now he wears all black, always wears jeans, he straightens his hair, and he dies it black with streaks of different colors. Getting used to this change wasn’t easy for us (let alone for his parents). So when this trip around we find out that he’s a vegetarian, I cannot help but wonder what’s next. Since when do thirteen-year-olds become vegetarians?

We picked him up from school, and we tried to make conversation with him as we headed to the movies. He is no longer the kid full of life that he used to be. He always had a million questions, or some weird story to share. Now he just remains as quiet as possible. His demeanor made me think about what I was like at his age.

Well, not very different. Minus the “emo” part, I just didn’t spend a lot of time with my family. In fact, I was always sick when there were family reunions happening. Now that I’m so far apart from my family, I regret not taking advantage of my time better. I know everyone says we ought to live a life of no regrets, but what happens when you’re too young to know that you’re doing something you will regret?

My cousin is a bit taller than my wife, and part of the reason why he doesn’t want to each much, if at all, is because he wants to stay at that height. He wants to kill his growth. His parents can try all they want, but if this is what he wants, he will get around it somehow. What if at 25 he realizes he hates being shorter than he could have been? Will he regret what he’s doing now?

-Mrs. This One


Of Family Dynamics

As a child of a broken home, I grew up to the care of my grandmother and books. This never quite bothered me as I was always a happy child. However, now grown and in the process of working on what I can now call my own family, I realize that my life was (and still is) way too far from the ordinary.

My mother is a great woman. She wants to do a lot of good but the problem is that she hasn’t quite figured out how to do so. I love her and I want her to be happy, but I don’t know if she’ll ever reach that happiness. The good thing is that she never stops looking for it. I just wish she would have been a bigger part of my life. Maybe that will change once she meets my wife. For better or for worse.

I don’t really know my dad anymore. I haven’t talked to him in ages. He’s been trying to get in touch with me but I don’t really want him to. I wouldn’t even know what to say to him. Maybe that I will be a better parent than he could ever be. Yep, that sounds about right.

My brother is a few years older than me and he has nothing going on for him. He has dropped out of several different colleges and I don’t think he knows what to do next. He’s clearly a mix of my parents. I could have been adopted- but no one will say for sure. I try to talk to him about life but he always gets offended by this. After all I am the younger sister who is a lesbian.

My grandma is my shining star. I haven’t seen her in forever but I think about her everyday. She never finished middle school and still handled my homosexuality better than anyone else did. “As long as you’re happy,” the old lady said. She too needs more happiness in her life. She’s in love with my grandpa but I don’t think he knows what love is. He certainly can’t show that he does.

There are more characters in this play but I think these will do for now.

You know those independent films that show people who are so weird and have so much going on for them that you think it can only happen in movies? I think it does happen all the time. My family is a great example. I don’t think they know what being a family means but they still cope somehow. Maybe that’s why everyone is so unhappy? Because they haven’t quite figured out that family is all what matters?

I really hope not to become anything like them. I love them all but they’re nowhere close to the person I am and want to be.

-Mrs. This One


Another Year Goes By

The year 2011 is sneaking up on us and I ain’t about to complain. College life has been a blessing but like any other educational system, it makes you wait impatiently for the graduation date. A year then becomes just another goal line and one is just grateful if several great things happened during those 364 days. And if not, then the thought of “making it through another year” takes over.

There are many who seek for their meaning and purpose. This time is a constant reminder of that; as New Year’s Resolutions fly left and right in every house in the neighborhood. If I had to come with any resolution myself, then I’d feel ashamed to admit that any I can come up with looks a lot like the ones from last year, and the year before that, and before that. In short, history likes to repeat itself.

I will brag a little because comes January 1st, 2011, I will be in a better place than I’ve ever been on that day in prior years. Even this Christmas is an improvement from family fights, lack of money and bulks of uncertainty. I do believe those who preach that “things can only get better,” because time has proven that they can certainly get better.

Despite the fact that we keep aging and this means nothing more than taking a step closer to the grave, it is always a good feeling that certain things are now being left behind. However my outlooks is not purposely pessimistic and I, like you are (I hope), am thankful of the things that come and leave or stay in my hands.

So long 2010 and hello 2011!


The Times

I woke up with a sense of urgency to pee. I stumbled on my way to the bathroom with half-opened eyes. While sitting on the toilet, I remembered that I needed to go downstairs to pick up the L.A. Times before someone else did. Someone stole my Sunday edition last week, and the replacement edition that was sent to me the following Monday. It’s still hard to believe that someone in this college-student-populated building had woken up before 10am last Sunday and stole a newspaper. I glanced at my wife’s cellphone to check the time after I got dressed. It was a little after 8am. I wondered for a moment if it was already too late to find the Times still there and I hesitated before heading towards the door as I admired my wife’s nakedness on our bed.

The paper was still there, right outside the building’s front door. As I held it in my hands, I smiled to myself with a sense of accomplishment. Clearly not over the fact that in a country like the United States, people still dare to steal someone else’s property. Twice.

I headed upstairs resenting the delivery person who for three weeks now has ignored my delivery instructions. “Please deliver outside apartment door #203.” He/she even has the code to enter the building. I almost regret given out that information but not as much as I regret that his/her actions helped someone else steal from me.

I opened my apartment door as quiet as possible trying not to wake my wife a second time. As I placed the paper on the floor, she looked at me and gave me a smile. She too had been an accomplice in this; she knew how much I wanted to beat whoever had stolen my paper before.

The paper is still sitting on the floor unread. And will remain that way until I finish reading the novel “Butterfly Boy” by Rigoberto Gonzalez, which is a memoir of a Chicano gay kid about growing up and coming out. I’m supposed to compare this book to literary works written by Chicana lesbians that we have read throughout the quarter for my Chicana Lesbian Literature midterm. The works are not all that different from each other. They all have some sort of struggle in common. Struggle because of background, race, class, sexuality, etc.

I haven’t been able to relate to the work of Chicana lesbians because my story is too different from theirs. But “Butterfly Boy” somehow was able to hit closer to home. Gonzalez is the only one who actually talks about being little and sexually confused; you cannot be gay and not relate to this. Reading this book has made me resent my family more than I already do. I just wish I would have had someone to talk to while growing up, instead of hating myself for loving women.

My father finally confirmed with my brother on Friday that I was a Lesbian. “He sounded disappointed,” my brother told me. I laughed in disbelief. A man who was unfaithful to my mother, hurt her, left me and my brother, did the same to another woman and her kids, and is now alone and old working for his brother is disappointed in me. If he weren’t in another country, I would love to knock at his door and tell him that I understand his ignorance, and that I’m sorry he’ll never know what is like to be happy but I do. I am so grateful that I was able to take my wife’s last name and erase his for good.

I’ll never understand why my mother married such a man but she’s not too different from his ignorance. She struggled with the idea that I am gay. And she now struggles with the idea that my brother is dating a black woman. I told her over the phone last night that this was his decision to make after she told me that she didn’t agree with his relationship. “He’s happy and I’m happy, isn’t that what matters?” I asked. Big mistake. She made a point of making me feel guilty for being happy. I resent her for not being a mom. “What have I done to deserve this?” she’d say. I’m not sure what she wants from us but it certainly isn’t for us to be happy.

I’m consciously glad that I’m far from those times. I’m happy I grew up enough to be on my own. Getting the paper delivered to me is a sign of independence. Even if I have yet to read it because of my midterm, I’m still old enough to get the Sunday paper. Sometimes is good to grow up just to have a clean slate. I may not have a past I’d be proud to look back to, but I have hopes I’ll find that pride in my future. By then there might not be such a thing as a newspaper delivery.


Things Always Look Better When You’re Little

Although we were stuck on traffic for about three hours, we agreed that anything was better than sweating over conversations with topics like “do you think this will fit in that box too” and “honey, do you really think I’m gonna let you bring that thing to our new apartment?” The weather was also kind to us and once we made it there, the sense of accomplishment made the whole drive worth it.

The reason why she had been wanting to come here was because she used to come to this aquarium every year when she was little. When that tradition stopped when she was about 10 years old, she still held on to that memory of coming here every summer with her family. So needless to say, I was really excited that I could let her relive this whole adventure- and that I was able to share this with her.

But the aquarium wasn’t as big as she remembered and the sharks were less fantastic than they used to be. But we still enjoyed ourselves and I promised her that once we visit my family over Christmas, we’ll make the trip to the Atlanta Aquarium and I’d show her what a real aquarium is supposed to look like (no offense to the Birch, of course).

But isn’t it always like that? I could watch cartoons on endless hours every weekend but now they’re not as funny or interesting as they used to be. And Mac & Cheese aren’t my best pals anymore because they were replaced with Mr.Steak and Mrs. Veggies a long time ago. And don’t even get me started on the parks and the beach and everything else that simply looked better when we were little.


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