SZ
Thursday, May 22, 2008
gah i suck
So yeah...blogs. I'm consistently inconsistent with these. I suppose the rigors of UCSD life and other responsibilities have consumed me. Six months later and about three or four half unfinished posts I find myself here. Well...in four more weeks I will say farewell to UCSD and woo hoo meh-he-ko!!! Perhaps, posts will be more abundant when that time comes. Until then, I trudge through the battle zones of academia. Gahh!!! My face.
SZ
SZ
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
"No thank you, I like killing Muslims..."
Wow! I'm starting to question what the point of having a blog is, if I can't even keep up with it. Truth be told, I'm about three and half months away from my last entry, however, it only seems like a few weeks ago that I wrote it. I'm not sure how to feel about this. Perhaps, I haven't really taken the time to be reflective personally or just in general past few months or so, besides a gigantic update that I sent out to some select friends (hopefully that doesn't seem all exclusive, even though the statement inherently implies that but I can't lie, they're probably the only people that show significant interest in my life, if you're one of those people and reading this, I hope a simple "thanks" will suffice. :) ) It's hard to say how life has been the past few months in a nutshell, so I won't even attempt to do that, but I'll speak on some things that have crossed my mind the past few weeks. Aside from the harsh reality that my final quarter is going to be anything but lax, I'm ready to boldly take on the task of completing this quarter and doing it well. I have a suffocating schedule, but sprinting to the finish line I think is my only option. As long as I don't collapse along the way, I will be dreaming and smiling towards bigger and better things with arms wide open and with a humble heart ready (hopefully) to seek out what the Lord has for me.
The past few weeks have been quite eventful, and the fact that school has started up has really nothing to do with that. I've been pensive about different things. The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr.'s death, seeing some inspiring spoken word poets, thinking about how wack the news is, protesting, and to my delight, I was able to see two of my best friends from college, Miguel and Kevin. It has been quite a bit to consume but still a great week and half into the quarter nonetheless.
This past week I was able to see two great friends from college, Kevin and Miguel. It was brief, and a weekend together isn't really an ideal amount of time to catch up but then again, as I get older, I realize more and more that "ideal" is less and less. In any case, it was great to catch up from where things left off. No awkwardness had developed from the lapse of time passed without much conversation. It felt like stepping into your favorite pair of shoes. It was comfortable and refreshing. We talked, and hung out, played some Rock Band, shared laughs, and it was by far one of the most simple but enjoyable weekends I have had all year.
The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr. assassination was last Friday on April 4th. If you didn't know about it, it's probably because the media didn't care about it enough spend time covering it. In fact, if you were me, I assume you probably still saw the Sean Hannitys, Glen Becks, Bill O'Reilly', Lou Dobbs, (Name of other conservative political pundit). I don't know, anyone can take their pick. These guys were probably running off the mouth about the same stuff, asserting their neo-conservative agenda on the airwaves. Why these guys have shows is beyond me, and why people even listen to their narrow-minded, non-objective material is saddening. I don't even bother. Most of the time I laugh at what they say and then I have to remind myself that I'm contributing to their ratings. Whatever though, my personal boycott would have no lasting effect on their ratings. Seriously, I already know everything these guys are going to say. Glenn Beck is going to talk about Reverend Wright's comments and attack Obama's character. Sean Hannity takes the same route. Dobbs will talk about the need to "protect" our borders and trash immigrants. At least O'Reilly has diversity, but still nonobjective. These guys will probably ride this material until the elections are finished.
Back to MLK, I was fortunate enough to see some clippings of MLK Jr's last speech that he gave. It was by far one of the greatest speeches I've ever heard. He makes Obama look like child's play, and that's not really a dis because Obama is pretty damn good, however Obama looks more rehearsed at times whereas, MLK is raw but still so finely polished. Fire in his eyes, beads of sweat making their odyssey through the pores and finding a home all across his face, the masses who bundled up to see him were brimming with hope and inspiration by the time he was done. He had the uncanny ability to speak about very real issues almost poetically. The passion inside of him left with every word that came off the tip of his tongue. He left it all on the podium and there was no doubt that he was tired every single time as it showed in his body language. It felt like every single time he gave a little of his life in speeches, but not in vain. His words, animate as they were would not cease to die off but rather, just as quickly as they left the heart and then the tongue they met the desperate ears of the masses and gave life to people who's souls were dying, whose hearts were crying, except the world never had never heard their pain before because their yells were met with silence. The crowds usually left invigorated with a new sense of life. This almost sounds Christ-like in it's effect but this is really how I perceived it. In his final speech, it's by far one of the most chilling things to see MLK look up and boldly say that he doesn't fear any man, even amidst death threats that he received constantly. It was almost as if he was looking his potential killer in the eye and telling him he didn't fear him at all because he had already seen the "promiseland". It's all a little too surreal for me and it sends chills through the body while goose bumps begin to form.
Just as chilling is the RFK's announcement (also on youtube) of MLK's death. Upon the delivery of bad news, it seemed as if the whole crowd got punched in the stomach instantaneously. Inhaling something as foul as those words in the air that evening was nothing compared to exhales of hopes lost, dreams shattered, and beliefs in a better future crushed. Truly a gripping moment in history and one that I can only imagine the power of because I wasn't even alive to experience it. However, the thought of it still stings a little and lingers like a pungent stench. In any case, the sad thought of this really isn't what stands out the most to me in RFK's speech. What is most memorable is his message of reconciliation. I'm sure in the moment he said what people wanted to hear least. People just found out that one of the nation's most courageous leader had his life taken away from him through the cowardice act of assassination, and their emotions were probably everywhere, and RFK simply tells them to love. He tells them to be the example of love that they want see in the world. Again, very Christ-like, and very counter-intuitive to the images of violence and war they were seeing or hearing about. I really can't get enough of these two speeches, because they are relevant to our time now just as they were when Christ walked the earth. The messages of love, reconciliation, and compassion are timeless. Perhaps, because they are the only ones that we can't fully comprehend, grasp, or embody ourselves. Something is extremely appealing about these terms and how they are manifested and I'm not talking about the generalized, idealized contexts in which they are presented, but because they are truly revolutionary. They are the hardest revolutions to uptake because they first require the internal revolution. The inside of us, out into the world type of revolution. They require every individual to change how they think, perceive, act, etc. Plus the track record of anyone personifying those characteristics isn't too flattering. MLK, JFK, RFK, Malcolm X, Gandhi, Cesar Chavez, Mother Teresa, Che (debatable), Jesus (not debatable, heh). For the most part, that pattern suggests that to love is to die.
I often dream about this lifestyle. Being a part of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IV, IVCF) for four years, I remember the tag lines of "Be a world changer" and the emergence and shift in the Fellowship from being mainly evangelistic towards being more holistic in it's approach and making a strong push for social justice. This comprehensive approach was easy to criticize being birthed into a space with a lot of young people who were hungry to see the world change, but didn't know where to begin. A few years later, a few years wiser, and a few pounds heavier, I still dream. Some may consider it akin to a youthful spirit that will fade with time as I step out into the real world and "realize" what I already know. That this lifestyle is not glamorous, not easy, sometimes not fun, dangerous, no guarantees that anything I do will bring praise to God, but I remain firm in my choice to dream. These notions were further affirmed to me as I protested yesterday against homeland security on our campus (I obviously don't like the idea that the UC funds the research of independent contractors to make weapons of mass destruction, that the military especially recruits people on the lower stratum of socioeconomic ladder, and since race and class are inextricably linked that means that people of color are specifically targeted even though lower class whites are make up most of the deaths, this among other things). I don't like the militarization of the border and the building of a wall instead of bridges to ensure that we accommodate the effects of globalization that we don't think twice about imposing on other people. While chanting with a voice that that was dying and passing out flyers, I received a comment from some random cat who was passing by. He responded to my passing out of flyers by saying "No thanks, I like killing Muslims" to which I kindly responded with a forced smile, "have a nice day." This was not the first time that I have heard such comments. Heck, I've been on the end of these types of comments more than once as well. For whatever reason he said it, it made me sad to know that there are people who still feel and think this way. Even if it was said to intentionally aggravate me, it's very mentioning was unacceptable. Not that I expected it, but IV didn't prepare me for action, but this was not due to lack of effort. Plus, nobody I know or have ever heard of has really got "change" down to a science. Many times, the change seems miraculous. One thing is certain though, and that is that the fundamentals of change were rooted in dreams, love, compassion and a heart for reconciliation. For the record, I don't believe that pursuing social justice comes narrowly by means of signs and chants but rather it's just one of many ways. And so I dream...
The past few weeks have been quite eventful, and the fact that school has started up has really nothing to do with that. I've been pensive about different things. The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr.'s death, seeing some inspiring spoken word poets, thinking about how wack the news is, protesting, and to my delight, I was able to see two of my best friends from college, Miguel and Kevin. It has been quite a bit to consume but still a great week and half into the quarter nonetheless.
This past week I was able to see two great friends from college, Kevin and Miguel. It was brief, and a weekend together isn't really an ideal amount of time to catch up but then again, as I get older, I realize more and more that "ideal" is less and less. In any case, it was great to catch up from where things left off. No awkwardness had developed from the lapse of time passed without much conversation. It felt like stepping into your favorite pair of shoes. It was comfortable and refreshing. We talked, and hung out, played some Rock Band, shared laughs, and it was by far one of the most simple but enjoyable weekends I have had all year.
The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr. assassination was last Friday on April 4th. If you didn't know about it, it's probably because the media didn't care about it enough spend time covering it. In fact, if you were me, I assume you probably still saw the Sean Hannitys, Glen Becks, Bill O'Reilly', Lou Dobbs, (Name of other conservative political pundit). I don't know, anyone can take their pick. These guys were probably running off the mouth about the same stuff, asserting their neo-conservative agenda on the airwaves. Why these guys have shows is beyond me, and why people even listen to their narrow-minded, non-objective material is saddening. I don't even bother. Most of the time I laugh at what they say and then I have to remind myself that I'm contributing to their ratings. Whatever though, my personal boycott would have no lasting effect on their ratings. Seriously, I already know everything these guys are going to say. Glenn Beck is going to talk about Reverend Wright's comments and attack Obama's character. Sean Hannity takes the same route. Dobbs will talk about the need to "protect" our borders and trash immigrants. At least O'Reilly has diversity, but still nonobjective. These guys will probably ride this material until the elections are finished.
Back to MLK, I was fortunate enough to see some clippings of MLK Jr's last speech that he gave. It was by far one of the greatest speeches I've ever heard. He makes Obama look like child's play, and that's not really a dis because Obama is pretty damn good, however Obama looks more rehearsed at times whereas, MLK is raw but still so finely polished. Fire in his eyes, beads of sweat making their odyssey through the pores and finding a home all across his face, the masses who bundled up to see him were brimming with hope and inspiration by the time he was done. He had the uncanny ability to speak about very real issues almost poetically. The passion inside of him left with every word that came off the tip of his tongue. He left it all on the podium and there was no doubt that he was tired every single time as it showed in his body language. It felt like every single time he gave a little of his life in speeches, but not in vain. His words, animate as they were would not cease to die off but rather, just as quickly as they left the heart and then the tongue they met the desperate ears of the masses and gave life to people who's souls were dying, whose hearts were crying, except the world never had never heard their pain before because their yells were met with silence. The crowds usually left invigorated with a new sense of life. This almost sounds Christ-like in it's effect but this is really how I perceived it. In his final speech, it's by far one of the most chilling things to see MLK look up and boldly say that he doesn't fear any man, even amidst death threats that he received constantly. It was almost as if he was looking his potential killer in the eye and telling him he didn't fear him at all because he had already seen the "promiseland". It's all a little too surreal for me and it sends chills through the body while goose bumps begin to form.
Just as chilling is the RFK's announcement (also on youtube) of MLK's death. Upon the delivery of bad news, it seemed as if the whole crowd got punched in the stomach instantaneously. Inhaling something as foul as those words in the air that evening was nothing compared to exhales of hopes lost, dreams shattered, and beliefs in a better future crushed. Truly a gripping moment in history and one that I can only imagine the power of because I wasn't even alive to experience it. However, the thought of it still stings a little and lingers like a pungent stench. In any case, the sad thought of this really isn't what stands out the most to me in RFK's speech. What is most memorable is his message of reconciliation. I'm sure in the moment he said what people wanted to hear least. People just found out that one of the nation's most courageous leader had his life taken away from him through the cowardice act of assassination, and their emotions were probably everywhere, and RFK simply tells them to love. He tells them to be the example of love that they want see in the world. Again, very Christ-like, and very counter-intuitive to the images of violence and war they were seeing or hearing about. I really can't get enough of these two speeches, because they are relevant to our time now just as they were when Christ walked the earth. The messages of love, reconciliation, and compassion are timeless. Perhaps, because they are the only ones that we can't fully comprehend, grasp, or embody ourselves. Something is extremely appealing about these terms and how they are manifested and I'm not talking about the generalized, idealized contexts in which they are presented, but because they are truly revolutionary. They are the hardest revolutions to uptake because they first require the internal revolution. The inside of us, out into the world type of revolution. They require every individual to change how they think, perceive, act, etc. Plus the track record of anyone personifying those characteristics isn't too flattering. MLK, JFK, RFK, Malcolm X, Gandhi, Cesar Chavez, Mother Teresa, Che (debatable), Jesus (not debatable, heh). For the most part, that pattern suggests that to love is to die.
I often dream about this lifestyle. Being a part of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IV, IVCF) for four years, I remember the tag lines of "Be a world changer" and the emergence and shift in the Fellowship from being mainly evangelistic towards being more holistic in it's approach and making a strong push for social justice. This comprehensive approach was easy to criticize being birthed into a space with a lot of young people who were hungry to see the world change, but didn't know where to begin. A few years later, a few years wiser, and a few pounds heavier, I still dream. Some may consider it akin to a youthful spirit that will fade with time as I step out into the real world and "realize" what I already know. That this lifestyle is not glamorous, not easy, sometimes not fun, dangerous, no guarantees that anything I do will bring praise to God, but I remain firm in my choice to dream. These notions were further affirmed to me as I protested yesterday against homeland security on our campus (I obviously don't like the idea that the UC funds the research of independent contractors to make weapons of mass destruction, that the military especially recruits people on the lower stratum of socioeconomic ladder, and since race and class are inextricably linked that means that people of color are specifically targeted even though lower class whites are make up most of the deaths, this among other things). I don't like the militarization of the border and the building of a wall instead of bridges to ensure that we accommodate the effects of globalization that we don't think twice about imposing on other people. While chanting with a voice that that was dying and passing out flyers, I received a comment from some random cat who was passing by. He responded to my passing out of flyers by saying "No thanks, I like killing Muslims" to which I kindly responded with a forced smile, "have a nice day." This was not the first time that I have heard such comments. Heck, I've been on the end of these types of comments more than once as well. For whatever reason he said it, it made me sad to know that there are people who still feel and think this way. Even if it was said to intentionally aggravate me, it's very mentioning was unacceptable. Not that I expected it, but IV didn't prepare me for action, but this was not due to lack of effort. Plus, nobody I know or have ever heard of has really got "change" down to a science. Many times, the change seems miraculous. One thing is certain though, and that is that the fundamentals of change were rooted in dreams, love, compassion and a heart for reconciliation. For the record, I don't believe that pursuing social justice comes narrowly by means of signs and chants but rather it's just one of many ways. And so I dream...
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Finals, squeaky shoes, study break, justice, God (Random thoughts at 3:30am)
It's 3:35am here in CLICS and it's hella packed and tight like butt-cheeks. In paradoxical nature, people are still lively, in their zombie-like states. No one says it but smiles occasionally cross people's faces which takes my gaze away from their bloodshot eyes and dismissive body language shouts "shoot me in the freakin' head." I'm sure suicidal contemplations consume this place. Rationale has lost it's place in academia, and people seemed to have forgotten what the point of their life was or why they're studying what they're studying. A sad reality. Why this cycle? I don't know. A side thought, my friend Trent, working the CSO duty tonight, is complaining about how he missed the playoffs in fantasy football. A pitiful problem in light of this tense atmosphere where I know the plight of my fellow tritons is visibly taking it's toll. The brutal quarter system doesn't leave much room for error.
This place smells of various munchies and people look like they're a "Rockstar" away from being cracked out. I think how I can be joyful during this time of finals and joyful in the Lord at that. I've been looking at clips of coverage on immigration for the past few hours trying to decipher images and see how to make my case that media outlets racialize the immigration debate and make it more of a "Mexican" issue rather than an issue of "immigration." I think how my people and many others, are often invisible sojourners in this country but are often made "hyper-visible" (yeah I know that is an Ethnic Studies concept. In other words they are made more visible in certain contexts...another paradoxical situation). Trying to finish up some research for my final prospectus for the quarter, I surprisingly feel at peace with God and joyful. Maybe, my seasoned veteran savvy has allowed me to cheat the devil out of having a field day with my emotions this finals week, but to be honest, this quarter has been extremely difficult in many respects, but still God's peace comes over me. This is kinda the first time too. I don't know why, that's something I'll reflect on over the break.
Anyway, thinking about the injustice of the immigration situation where people loosely slip in and out of their rhetoric to praise immigrants for their hard work while ambiguously saying we still need to solve the "problem" although it's never really defined. Kinda just...there. Yeah, that is another issue and I won't go off on that tangent, but another group of "invisibles" trek their way here into UCSD libraries often and perhaps they're a little more noticeable when the libraries experience density a la finals week. They're not hard to notice. In fact, they stick out like black people on this campus (damn you UCSD!! Diversity my arse. I can't help but feel this world takes one step forward only to take two steps backwards sometimes), in general kinda like minorities in college campuses across this country. They stick out like me when I walk through this library. My stupid orthotics for my flat feet always make weird noises when I walk because they're not the natural in-soles for the shoes. I'm sure everyone has stared already. The awkward "squeaks" are quite rude in such study environments, and they're not the traditional "squeaks" either. I can't really explain it. It kinda sounds like the tin man without oil from the "Wizard of Oz" but not quite as harsh. But yeah, homeless folks roll through the libraries trying to avoid the chill factor of the coast. San Diego weather has been freakishly cold. Well, not that cold, but cold for the "no-worry have fun in the sun San Diegans." Admittedly, this is probably one of colder seasons since I've been here.
As far as the homeless folks. There is one sitting a good 10 yards away from me. He's made his presence known quickly. He's managed to complete an impossible task. In this overcrowded library he has cleared a circumference and as of right now he has two large tables to himself. Quite impressive if you ask me. I imagine it's because he doesn't exactly smell like "lovespell" from Victoria Secret like some of these girls. Whatever, I'm sure some of these people haven't showered this week either. Heck, I could use a shower soon too. In fact I've seen a girl putting on some deodorant and another guy with his pillow knocked out so I don't see why this man can't make himself at home at CLICS either. My friend, the CSO received complaints from students about him, and they were planning on kicking him out of here. True, the foul odor of this man has managed to creep it's way in my vicinity and presents a minor disturbance, but I don't really want this man to be kicked out in the cold. It's already embarrassing enough that cops have to come talk to him in front of all of us students and the mixed stares speak louder than the "ooos" and... "ewws" that they desperately hold back. I would like to reconcile this situation. I mean you have college students who need to study and a man who needs some shelter. Quite a peculiar situation to be perfectly honest. Images and thoughts of "WWJD" acronyms monopolize my meandering mind. Truthfully, I'm not sure how to really deal with the situation. I feel a little called to tell people to just chill and give the guy a break. I don't know who they are though. Good thing it has been resolved though, because how does one deal with that situation? I don't really have an answer but I must resume my research!
This place smells of various munchies and people look like they're a "Rockstar" away from being cracked out. I think how I can be joyful during this time of finals and joyful in the Lord at that. I've been looking at clips of coverage on immigration for the past few hours trying to decipher images and see how to make my case that media outlets racialize the immigration debate and make it more of a "Mexican" issue rather than an issue of "immigration." I think how my people and many others, are often invisible sojourners in this country but are often made "hyper-visible" (yeah I know that is an Ethnic Studies concept. In other words they are made more visible in certain contexts...another paradoxical situation). Trying to finish up some research for my final prospectus for the quarter, I surprisingly feel at peace with God and joyful. Maybe, my seasoned veteran savvy has allowed me to cheat the devil out of having a field day with my emotions this finals week, but to be honest, this quarter has been extremely difficult in many respects, but still God's peace comes over me. This is kinda the first time too. I don't know why, that's something I'll reflect on over the break.
Anyway, thinking about the injustice of the immigration situation where people loosely slip in and out of their rhetoric to praise immigrants for their hard work while ambiguously saying we still need to solve the "problem" although it's never really defined. Kinda just...there. Yeah, that is another issue and I won't go off on that tangent, but another group of "invisibles" trek their way here into UCSD libraries often and perhaps they're a little more noticeable when the libraries experience density a la finals week. They're not hard to notice. In fact, they stick out like black people on this campus (damn you UCSD!! Diversity my arse. I can't help but feel this world takes one step forward only to take two steps backwards sometimes), in general kinda like minorities in college campuses across this country. They stick out like me when I walk through this library. My stupid orthotics for my flat feet always make weird noises when I walk because they're not the natural in-soles for the shoes. I'm sure everyone has stared already. The awkward "squeaks" are quite rude in such study environments, and they're not the traditional "squeaks" either. I can't really explain it. It kinda sounds like the tin man without oil from the "Wizard of Oz" but not quite as harsh. But yeah, homeless folks roll through the libraries trying to avoid the chill factor of the coast. San Diego weather has been freakishly cold. Well, not that cold, but cold for the "no-worry have fun in the sun San Diegans." Admittedly, this is probably one of colder seasons since I've been here.
As far as the homeless folks. There is one sitting a good 10 yards away from me. He's made his presence known quickly. He's managed to complete an impossible task. In this overcrowded library he has cleared a circumference and as of right now he has two large tables to himself. Quite impressive if you ask me. I imagine it's because he doesn't exactly smell like "lovespell" from Victoria Secret like some of these girls. Whatever, I'm sure some of these people haven't showered this week either. Heck, I could use a shower soon too. In fact I've seen a girl putting on some deodorant and another guy with his pillow knocked out so I don't see why this man can't make himself at home at CLICS either. My friend, the CSO received complaints from students about him, and they were planning on kicking him out of here. True, the foul odor of this man has managed to creep it's way in my vicinity and presents a minor disturbance, but I don't really want this man to be kicked out in the cold. It's already embarrassing enough that cops have to come talk to him in front of all of us students and the mixed stares speak louder than the "ooos" and... "ewws" that they desperately hold back. I would like to reconcile this situation. I mean you have college students who need to study and a man who needs some shelter. Quite a peculiar situation to be perfectly honest. Images and thoughts of "WWJD" acronyms monopolize my meandering mind. Truthfully, I'm not sure how to really deal with the situation. I feel a little called to tell people to just chill and give the guy a break. I don't know who they are though. Good thing it has been resolved though, because how does one deal with that situation? I don't really have an answer but I must resume my research!
Friday, November 23, 2007
Machista influences...boo!!
Coming back home has been great. Eating with the family and just being around them is always an enjoyable experience. I think that family is truly a blessing in every sense of the word that I can fathom at this point in my life. I love to be around family, because there are always shared laughs, funny stories, catching up and hearing the latest chisme about family and other people in small town
Perhaps, my father was just withdrawing himself from any further temptation of eating certain Thanksgiving dishes given his newly restricted diet he must adhere to after probably his closest encounter with death to date which happened about 3 weeks ago when he had a stroke. I'm not really sure, in any case, I was conscious of this and I went to stand up and eat by him. We didn't talk much, in fact, my ears were still guiding my mind towards the table where my Abuela was talking about how life was full of amazing things and how she was still young and she was encouraging my primos and tios to get out. Anyone who knows my Abuela, knows that she can talk forever, one shouldn't feel too bad about cutting her off.
Anyway, being around my dad, I was kind of lost for words. I'm not sure if he noticed me standing by him. I'm not sure if he even appreciated my gesture. I started talking to him about the first thing that came to mind. I asked him to continue checking his sugar levels. Really, my poor attempt of trying to have the "Dad I love you and I want you to know that I want you to change your lifestyle talk because I don't want to see you go and mom and the rest of the family need you..." talk. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I didn't convey anything of that nature, but maybe the circumstances of the situation kind of made me not go full out with it. I mean, everyone was around, plus that is a personal conversation to be had or maybe I'm trying to justify my pathetic effort. Probably the latter but it's on my heart and on my mind. Hopefully, at least that was conveyed. However, I fear that "duty" from a son to a father may have stood out over "love" from son to a father. This has been something that has convicted me lately. Clearly from God. In this season where I'm learning about relationships in general and how to be a "man", it's only fitting that God would bring this out in my life. Kind of a double whammy and God straight mollywhopped me. Of course, it was done with grace.
Rewind my life a little over 3 weeks ago and I was getting over some slight depression in my life and I get the call from my mother that my father was in the hospital. I think I was more shocked than anything. However, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. One too many tortillas, beers, and other greasy foods probably did the trick. I just continued to check on my father through my mother, but I never felt the urgency to really to talk to my father. It wasn't until a week and half after the stroke where I called my mom and then she asked if I wanted to talk to my dad. I thought to myself, "Yeah, I guess...I think I'd be alright either way." A moment later I simply said "yes." This thought made me question myself a lot. One of those "What kind of person am I?" moments. It made me really call into question my relationship with my father. At the end of our brief telephone conversation which is honestly reduced to sports, if I have seen my sister and trite "how are you's?" the dreaded of all things came as it always does when I had to confront the awkward feeling when I said those three little words "I love you" accompanied by a more sincere than ever "Take care of yourself." I wonder if he knew I meant it?
I think this is something that he and I have created between ourselves the past "x" amount of years and I only say that because I can't really detect a certain point where it all began. I think back when I was a little kid, and my dad never told me he loved me so much as far as I can remember. He taught me how to box, wrestle, play catch, throw a football, play soccer, etc. He was even somewhat of a father figure in the neighborhood where many of my friends really didn't have fathers. My dad took me fishing, and taught me how skip rocks at the lake, but never really mentioned to me that he loved me. I think he expressed it in different ways. He has always provided for the family even though that role has shifted the past 5 years. Now it's my mom who works two jobs and my dad is probably going to start working his job again next week which doesn't pay well and doesn't have any benefits.
Anyway, my dad never really has told me often. They are too far and few between to really remember when they were said. I think the times I feel most loved by my father are when he calls me simply "mijo." A simple and affectionate term that literally translates into "my son." I don't really understand it, but when he says that to me, I feel loved. I think my Abuelo treated my father and my tios the same way when they were growing up. My mom actually told me this once, because I asked her as a child "how come dad doesn't say he loves me?" I distinctly remember this and she told me "You dad mijo, loves you even if he doesn't say it. You have to understand that your abuelo didn't ever really tell you dad or your tios that he loved them and my dad never told my brothers that. This is just the way it is but it doesn't mean that he doesn't love you. Your father wakes up early every morning at
I think about a man I interviewed at a taqueria when I was in D.F.,
I don't really understand how this all began, because I think human beings are inextricably linked by love. That we all desire to love and be loved. Hopefully, we all look to God for that. When I think about it, I think I've only seen my father really open up once and I could tell it was very hard. It was when I was about 9 years old and my sister had ran away for the "x-th" time and I my father just started crying in the kitchen. I didn't really understand it. I just walked over to him with my mom. When I think back, I think he was crying because he felt like he was working really hard to keep my family together, but my sister, had run away, and I think it hurt him to feel like he couldn't hold things together. That is my guess, I don't really know how he felt.
Anyway, going back to what my mom said, I don't think that the extent of my father's love should be through my mother but from him to me and me to him. Even when I get cards on occasion from my "parents" it always says "we love you" but I know it's my mom who wrote everything. Now, I don't think this is completely my father's fault but I don't think he really knows how to express himself, which has kind of made me have to work a little harder when I have to express my feelings and analyze and process how I feel. I don't think anybody should feel restricted to express themselves by fear, or by shame, or by embarrassment that it makes one "less manly" because I'm sure that this the core issue here. I look to my father and my abuelo to be an examples of everything a man is suppose to be but I don't think I can really look to them in this area because I think God is shaping me differently as far as what it means to be a "man."
I see the way my father interacts with his father and they're somewhat affectionate now, but I don't really want to wait until my father is approaching 90 to have to tell him that I love him and that I mean it. I think now more than ever with all the pressures of being a "man" comes a test to take a step towards that and I feel like God has really convicted me to have my first ever heart to heart with my father. I think the longer I wait the more I become what I fear which is to not be a "man of God". This is not to judge my father's shortcomings by any means, because I'm sure that I will fall short of it all as well, but it's really just the cry of a son who wants to love his father more and be in love with his father more and want that in return. In any case, I will attempt to do this all this week while I'm here in
SZ
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Musings...hopefully not to your bemusment
So...I have been reading some different blogs lately. Basically, a couple blogs of friends, and I've been quite inspired to take my crack at this virtual pouring out of the mind, soul, heart... yeah... whatever one chooses to call it. I guess when I ask myself "why am I starting a blog?" multiple responses come to mind. Not because a plethora of blogs have emerged as somewhat of a new fad with cult followings in the past recent years. I mean seriously, the blog sphere scene has just blown up like crazy, but I feel like this is a good way to keep my friends updated on my life and just for them to see how I feel about a scale of things ranging from God, news, movies, music, pop culture, to even something as different as food, restaurants, recipes and descriptions of memorable outings. I'm sure even some random jottings will find their way on here, which I'm ok with. There will be no limitations, no structure, although I'm sure my tendencies to discuss certain things more than others will be exposed in due time. Besides, I feel as if this is something that I've kinda wanted to do for a while. I want to improve my writing and processing skills as well as better my ability to manifest my feelings and thoughts into words. Admittedly, there is an inkling and desire that I find in my introspective states to be a little more creative as well. Aside from all of this, I think is just kind of fun and I look forward to enjoying every bit of this.
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