Five Years Later

You’re probably sitting in your electromagnetic fields class wondering what you’re doing there. I remember it was around this time that things were beginning to change for you. You feel like school is draining and you’re over the superficiality of college culture. The frivolity of constant partying feels empty. I know that you’re questioning if you should’ve stayed in Orlando, where you have your family and friends to support you. You’re stressed out wondering what you’re going to do this summer and how you’re going to make money to support yourself in the fall semester. You haven’t heard back from any of the internship opportunities that you’ve applied to, have you? I know you feel like everyone else in that room is smarter than you, and that’s probably because you’re reading this instead of paying attention to the damn lecture!

At nineteen years old, you’re going through quite the crisis! I know it’s hard living on your own, finding yourself, taking tough classes, and living off of ramen noodles. You’re perplexed by how you can have so much, yet feel like everything is just outside your grasp. There’s always one more step. Are you cut out for this? Is independence right now all it’s cracked up to be? Can you compete with everyone else racing towards the same destination? Will you succeed? Do these questions have answers?

Sure they do. It's your job to generate those answers.

Two years from now, you’re going to go to Nicaragua on a mission trip. You’re going to meet people your age who don’t have families, or an apartment with two kick ass roommates, or food in the fridge, or a college program to attend. One of the people you meet, his name is Aaron, is going to tell you that he’s actually working on his Bachelor’s degree, but it’s hard for him because he has to keep his brothers off the streets and find a way to work enough to feed mom and the boys. He won’t know what to do after he graduates because a degree over there doesn’t give him access to a career. He’s in school simply because he loves to learn and values education. In addition to that, he finds time to lead a club for Young Life because “God comes first, and God is all about family.” The obvious first lesson you’ll take away from meeting him is what anyone with half a heart would realize; you have it made. You’re #Blessed #FirstWorldProblems #OMGFinalsSuck #ICantBelieveHeOrSheDidThisOrThat #WhyDoesFreeFoodRequireHourLongMeetings #ThisWorldClassGymIsSoPacked #ThisFreePublicTransportationIsAlwaysLate #WoeIsMe #Fml #Sighhhh.

However, you’re going to learn another, more subtle lesson. It’s going to creep up on you as you watch Aaron act a fool in one of his improv comedy sketches. He has a joy that you don’t. It’s a joy that comes from the simplicity of life; the bare essence you uncover as you strip away the stressful veneer of deadlines, expectations, and that lab you don’t know how to do. He’s fulfilled by being alive. Breathing. Walking. Eating. Communicating. Singing. Dancing. Laughing. Loving. Living is enough for him. It doesn’t matter what other people think, he’s unapologetically himself. The worst stress comes from hiding who you really are – covering up the truth. Stress consumes us when we let fear reign supreme.

Despite the dangers of living in a third world country, and maintaining nobility in that lifestyle, Aaron is never scared. Hope is his default.

There’s elegance in simplicity, and the deepest joy is found in the core of what it means to simply be a part of divine artistry. Morph stress into a tool to answer those questions. The answers are a transient product of who you are and the clarity of what you believe. Push yourself beyond what you're capable of, that's the only reason limits exist.

I know you’re stressed now but there’s really nothing to worry about. The key is holding on to what really matters, your convictions and your purpose. I regret to inform you that you will not get an internship this summer. Actually, for the next two summers you’ll work two slightly above minimum wage jobs and you’ll frivolously spend what you should have been saving for the semester. Pops is going to have to bail you out a couple of times and you’ll have to humbly accept the torment of temporary dependence due to your own irresponsibility. Be ready for that, it's a tough lesson.

You won’t score your first internship until your very last summer in college. Better late than never. You’ll work at NASA’s KSC and it will make you question why in the world you decided to go into engineering. You’ll find the answer to that question by not settling for boredom and taking the initiative to work on a legitimate design. That experience will taste pretty sweet.

Your last semester will be the hardest, for many reasons, the biggest of which has nothing to do with academics. You’ll graduate by the skin of your teeth thanks to your procrastinating ways, but you’ll exude a peculiar confidence. It’s the kind of confidence that comes from overcoming obstacles and conquering adversity in your own unique way, by your own merit. It will be intriguing enough to land you a position at the biggest aerospace company in the world; you know which one I’m talking about. You’ll realize that it was all worth it. The unnecessary hassle of moving for college and being poor when you didn’t have to — that will build the character that makes your sorry GPA a risk worth taking. You’ll find that your ‘all or nothing’ nature and willingness to just ‘go for it’ will be your greatest professional asset. Building character is more valuable than learning from a textbook. You made it kid.

Meanwhile, you know that issue you have with girls? You know, the whole ‘I don’t have one’ problem? First of all, you're nineteen dude. Chill out. It should be of no surprise to you that you’ll get your heart broken three times by the same person. Yes, you guessed it; it’s that vicious cycle that you stubbornly can’t seem to walk away from. It’s going to suck. You’re going to feel worthless in a very awkward sense because viewing yourself that way is unnatural to you. It’ll feel like your heart beats only due to muscle memory and everything you’re passionate about, the world you’ve created around you, will collapse and leave you in an empty meaningless space with no sense of direction. You’ll recover and then relapse, kind of like an addiction – exactly like an addiction. Here’s the thing, she does love you, she just does it when you’re not around because it’s easier. It’s hard when you’re present because there’s a lot of slack to pick up. You have to love yourself first kid. I suggest you start working on that. You’ll recover and come into your own. It'll be really dark for a while, and then you'll start to experience the beauty of life and new opportunities again. You'll learn a lot. You’re pretty great, and it’s important for you to see that and believe it.

You know how you hate writing? Well, you’ll be writing this letter, on a blog, along with other stuff. You’ll even write to Aaron through Facebook and maintain a close friendship. He graduates college by the way, and now he can take care of his family with a little help. Change kid. You change quite a bit. You’re still changing. Embrace it! Change is powerful when it results in growth and self-awareness. Just remember this simple fact of life: There’s always one more step.

P.S.

Remember how you joined the Sabor Latino dance team freshman year, but you had to quit because it was too overwhelming with school? Meet me in SoCal five years from now. I have a surprise for you.

Yea, that’s right, the city of angels.

- Me

 

Keep Moving

Sunrise to sunset is a long way to travel. I still remember the flight here. It was five hours of bubbling excitement in anticipation of my new adventure. To be sincere, I wasn’t really sad at all. I was filled with a free spirit; I’ll go where the wind takes me! I left Florida for three reasons:

1)      Start my career in a new place.
2)      Southern California weather.

3)      Move on from heartbreak.

Number 1

I grew up in central Florida, Orlando to be specific. I was actually born in Los Angeles but we moved when I was very young. I lived a safe suburban lifestyle in the flat lands of the Hispanic south. I remember it being a big day when my mom first let me ride my bike to school in fourth grade. I remember hating riding my bike to school in Middle School. I remember knowing everyone in my area and making friends so easily. I was zoned for a specific high school. The way it works in central Florida is that you go where they tell you to. Choice isn’t exactly the swing state’s strong suit. I, however, found a loophole. I joined a magnet program that would allow me to go to a different high school than the one I was zoned for. This was an opportunity full of new people, new experiences, and new environments. I could’ve gone to the high school I was zoned for with the same people I had gone to school with for 6 years, but something about that seemed boring to me. I like change.

My high school years were great. My best friendships to this day come from those years, which oddly enough, doesn’t seem to be that common of an occurrence. My high school also happened to be right across from the biggest university in central Florida. Obviously, most of my classmates were graduating high school to go to said university. It would be like high school part 2, only this time with keg parties and smelly apartments. I, again, chose to go to a different school. It was 2 hours north of Orlando and I didn’t know very many people who were going there but I knew enough to make me feel comfortable. It was a small college town that was very different from everything I grew up with. Change started to become a theme in my life.

I learned a lot in college. It was my first time living on my own. I moved out of my parents’ house at 17 years old. I had to budget, cook, study, work, and party…none of which I did particularly well, except for the partying. I started learning how to be independent in college. I learned that academia is only as valuable as the character that holds it. It was a whimsical time mixed with the pressure of setting yourself up for…well…the rest of your life. It probably is of no surprise that once I graduated college, I felt like I was done with Florida. I wanted to leave. It felt small. The only meaning that existed there was my family and friends, both of which had been with me for quite some time. I had always wanted to go back to southern California, given that I was born there. I never really got to experience it. I took the opportunity to start my career as an engineer in California. Change seems to be somewhat of a life companion. Now, Florida seems smaller than ever.

Number 2

The weather here is perfect. No humidity. Sunshine almost every day. Perfect temperature. Beaches. Mountains. Snow. Surf. Smog (air you can’t see is air you can’t trust!).

It’s all here. What a perfect place. What a great location for exploration. If you try to compete with southern California weather, trust me, you’ll fail. I always wondered why weather was so important when people were choosing where to live…now I know.

Number 3

My heart is still in Florida. I’ve been in California for close to two years now, and every time I go to Orlando for a visit, it all still smells familiar. I fell in love in Florida. I got my heart broken there too. It’s interesting how those two experiences can get tied so viscerally to a location. After graduating college, Florida was driving me crazy with memories. I felt like I had to escape. How many applications did I fill out for jobs in Florida? Zero. It wasn’t even an option.

It’s funny how the beauty of a location seems dependent on where your heart lies at the time. It’s almost like that pair of glasses with which we view our surroundings. I had to leave Florida because I needed a new prescription. My heart was in a sad place and I couldn’t walk around the city without bringing it with me. Perhaps I was being somewhat of a coward trying to run away, but I felt reason number 2 was enough justification. The funny thing is that when I left, I brought that heart with me. I brought her with me. Texts, phone calls, notes, confusion, highs and lows…California didn’t take them away, it just gave me better weather to experience them in. Change is not an escape.

Change

My dad told me something interesting today. He told me that I took a leap of faith by moving so far away without knowing anyone. The west coast was the first move I made where I didn’t know at least a small group of people. I was literally setting out to be alone, with my fragile heart, just hoping that I would find something worthy of discovery, maybe myself. My dad told me it was a bold move, he didn’t know if he would have had the guts to do it himself. For anyone who knows about my relationship with my pops, hearing that was a big deal for me.

Seventeen days from now will mark two years since I’ve been here. I would love to be typing a blog post about how moving to California was the best thing that ever happened to me, how I’ve moved on and generated a whole new set of friends and a whole new life. Unfortunately, that’s not the case just yet. Here’s the truth:

Moving to a place a sizable distance away where you don’t know a soul is an extremely difficult experience. If you’re an introvert, it might not be as hard but you’ll be forking over more rent money to live by yourself. The professional world is much different than academia. It’s a world fueled by money, run by old people, and not as conducive to those “hey, let’s sit around, eat ice cream, and watch Netflix” type friendships. In fact, I don’t even remember the last time someone came into my apartment unannounced, walked into my kitchen, opened my fridge, and ate my food. That used to be daily life and now it’s a distant memory…2,400 miles to be exact.

At first, everything is new. There’s excitement in the air because no matter where you go or who you meet, it’s an adventure. It’s something completely different than what you’re used to. As time advances, the excitement starts to fade. After two years, I’ve made a few good friends, done a lot of really cool activities, bought some cool stuff, and still have my heart in the same place; all of which required significantly more initiative than they ever did before. The thing about change is that it’s somewhat fleeting, an instantaneous event that re-directs your life’s circumstances. However, I have learned that change doesn’t heal, and neither does time. Change distracts, while time conditions.

Don’t get me wrong, change is good, and so is time. Both are the tools we use with our power of choice to craft our lives. Healing, however, comes from within. It comes from confrontation with reality. It comes from admitting that two years later, southern California can be pretty lonely sometimes. It comes from realizing that forging meaningful relationships requires a lot more effort than it used to. It comes from understanding that old friends have their own things going on, and less time to catch up with you. It comes from writing blog posts about your thoughts and feelings, giving you the voice that used to talk on the phone for hours with that girl from Florida.

Perhaps there’s a much more important change that holds more weight than where we’re going to live and what we’re going to do. Maybe this confrontation of self can inspire a change in perspective. If we can change our perspective, every other change of circumstance or conditioning of time becomes powerless. There’s a plethora of things I can’t control, but perspective is not one of them. Right now, I live and work in southern California. I’m going to school and I do things that I enjoy. I have a few good friends that I love very much. I still have my family and friends from Florida (distance doesn’t put a dent in that). Things that used to be easy have become harder but not impossible, and the weather really is great. My heart is in recovery mode looking for perspective. Spring is in the air, and I need a new pair of sunglasses.

I think it’s time for a change.