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

 

Familiar Spaces

In twenty-four years of existence, three cities, college away from home, and an overwhelming push from the professional environment, I have never once lived on my own. I must confess that I have no idea what it’s like to have my own space and not have to share it. I grew up with a little brother five years younger than me in a family environment where privacy was not really an option. I had two roommates at any given point throughout my four years of college. Now I’m down to one roommate in an 860 sq ft 2 bed 2 bath apartment. Most people my age have either lived on their own at some point, or express a strong desire to do so after having some kind of annoyingly terrible experience. I know people who have lost best friends and they blame it on having the guts to live with them. Sharing personal space seems to invoke one common feeling: crowded.

Not including my immediate family, I’ve lived with a total of seven people to this day. Not only have I lived with seven people, but I’ve lived with seven entirely different people with entirely different styles of living. I started off my college academic adventures with two good friends from high school. Both guys. Both similar cultures. One was a psychology major, the other was a ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life’ major. I was studying engineering. During the summer, before we started school, the three of us worked together to fix up the condo. We were in the business of creating a home. I could write a book with the stories I have in my pocket from those days, but the most important thing I remember is the dynamic. We would cook for each other, clean for each other, and yell at each other for not cooking and cleaning enough for each other. It was just like growing up at home! We had parties and tried new things on campus together. We would invent crazy shenanigans to fill up a Saturday and we learned how to laugh at each other, and ourselves. We sang at the top of our lungs whether it was some gospel hymn or Tenacious D. We were our own fraternity starting our quest for self discovery and awareness; making mistakes and learning how to grow together. It was simple really, everything from schedules to what was in the fridge at any given moment was in flux, but the chemistry and identity of the house never wavered. We would eat dinner together at the dining room table.

After two years, one of them moved out to pursue what he really wanted to study in a different city. His room was filled with another good friend of mine from high school who had just recently come out as openly gay. That made only a positive difference as living with him taught me a lot about love, human sexuality, honesty, and acceptance. We hung out a lot, and the couch was pretty much his home already, so naturally, it made sense for him to upgrade to his own room. I knew that change was coming and nothing but excitement coursed through my veins. This transitional period was interesting because we were already in the flow of college life. It was no longer unfamiliar to us. The same rules applied and the same culture followed. We would eat dinner together at the dining room table.

Shortly after, the other original roommate moved out and a friend of the new one moved in. She was an artist studying music at the time. I knew the infusion of talent would create an entirely different atmosphere as it changed from two straight bros, to one gay bro and some artsy girl I didn’t even know. Home became an adventure in and of itself. A lot of things changed around the house. Her room now had a giant mural painted by one of her friends. Parties had more dancing, more hookups, and more people I didn’t know. Dinners changed from rice and beans to spinach salads, cheeses, and a bottle of red wine. Before, I’d come home to talk about girls, drink beer, and figure out how to build a stripper pole for parties (This actually happened #mylifeisbro). Now, I came home to listen to acoustic guitar playing and trippy electronica music while laughing hysterically at random improvisational acts meant to tease each other. Conversations geared towards women’s rights, Tina Fey, and boys. I was actually surprised at how much I had to say about boys, boys are jerks. Living with artists, emotions ran higher. Both anger and love were more passionate. Fights were louder and hugs were longer. I felt like I was in a Tarantino film right before shit hits the fan and everybody dies. My favorite days were when she would cook from a random recipe she found online, he would be writing some deep self reflection piece, and I would be studying calculus on our family room white board. Then, all three of us would stop what we were doing, and we would eat dinner together at the dining room table.

He was the first one to graduate and I still had a semester left. The new couch bum we had acquired moved in to replace him. I now lived with two girls. She was studying biology and was the polar opposite of the artist, now a theater major. She was a shy introvert who dared to share her space with two pretty crazy extroverts. She's bold. All of a sudden, the house was ugly. We needed a new rug with colors other than brown and we needed vibrant red pillows. We needed Christmas lights, Katy Perry, and girly smell radiating from the bathroom while they got ready to go out. This was new for me as I grew up with only a younger brother. Parties and get-togethers had more girls and pillow talk. I was the token server at said get-togethers. I would come home to deep three hour conversations about life, the universe, science, drama, and of course, boys. Sitting on the couch to watch a movie on Netflix suddenly seemed more intimate as we’d all share the same blanket. I came home to more tears that needed to turn into smiles. Wine was the elixir of truth, and I remember one time, we danced with pillows to Frank Sinatra. Why we danced with pillows is irrelevant; the important thing is that dancing with pillows now seemed to be perfectly encouraged and acceptable behavior. At school I was an engineer, but at home I was an artist, a therapist, a philosopher, a handy man, the football freak, and a humble servant for two beautiful queens. It was the first time in my life that I was so many things all at once. I felt valuable. My favorite part was talking about boys being jerks at the dining room table.

After graduating college, I moved to the complete opposite side of the country to start my career. Now residing in southern California, I didn’t know anyone when I originally got here. However, I didn’t really fear not knowing anyone as much as I did living by myself. The cost of living here is also crazy expensive so I did what any young professional twenty-something would do…I went straight to craigslist! I found someone looking for a roommate for a three month period of time before the lease ended. We met chatting with my parents over bowls of spaghetti and two days later, I was moved in. It was actually a pretty smooth transition. We made getting to know each other a priority and established that open communication would be the law of the land. He was my first friend in southern California, and the patron of initial exploration of my new home. I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction. He liked to work out and knew a lot about nutrition, so I would cook based on his suggestions and we would eat dinner together at the dining room table.

I knowingly set up my situation such that I had three months to acclimate to my new work environment and hopefully meet people and make some friends. It was a leap of faith really, but within those three months, I met the Godsend that is my current roommate. We actually met about a month before my lease was ending and there was a type of mystical comfort I felt the first few times we talked – a hidden familiarity. I would say we were probably around our tenth conversation, ever, when this happened:

- So where do you live?

- Oh I live in HB over by Bella Terra.

- Word. I live close to work over by the mall.

- You like it?

- It’s okay. I’m thinking of moving out.

- Yea me too. When’s your lease up?

- July 3^rd. Yours?

- July 2^nd.

  (Moment of simultaneous epiphany)

- Roomies?

- Roomies.

Two weeks later we moved into our new place. We furnished it with a couch we swiped up (getting it up the stairs took a third, superhero friend that we have), and a coffee table we found on craigslist. Our living room is so small that those two things, along with our TV, make it look full. I will forever designate the occurrence of this living situation as a miraculous act of God. Timing was on point and we laugh almost every day. It’s coming on two years now, and the server ladies at the Chinese restaurant on the corner think that we’re brothers. Sharing is easy because, at twenty-four years old, we both know how to do it. If he listens to music while he’s studying he doesn’t have to use headphones because we share the same taste in music. If I’m watching a movie or TV, he’ll sit on the couch and watch it with me if he’s not busy. I come home to relax and converse about anything ranging from Lil Wayne to Isaac Newton. The other day he was sick and he asked me to get a thermometer and some soup. On my way back from the Chinese restaurant, I realized that the server ladies are right – we are brothers. That’s fortune cookie wisdom right there.

The invisible amalgamating force behind all of my space sharing experiences has been one simplistic, powerful idea:

Family.

Throughout the course of my life thus far, family has been an extremely influential factor in regards to who I am, where I am, and what I’ve become. Reminiscing on all the people I’ve lived with, we created a family. That condo in Gainesville, Florida was a home and it had a culture and an identity. It was a living, breathing, and changing entity. Family is what makes sharing your space meaningful, impactful, and worth it.

Some people say that you can’t pick your family but you can pick your friends. I beg to differ. Family isn’t some default assignment of blood relatives. That’s nature; procreation and genetics. Family is an idea – a shared idea. Family is consciously created and developed. It is the mechanism by which we unite and give each other the power of influence to fuse different personalities. The crowded nature of family is supposed to destroy our self-centered need for control and ownership, and transform it into the act of sharing for the sake of life changing communion. Family is unraveled using the tools of open communication, honesty, respect, compassion, forgiveness, and love. Family is chiseled by confrontation, sacrifice, frustration and relief. Family is fortified by loyalty, commitment, and dedication. You can choose your family; you do it with the people you share your space with, whether it is at work, school, or personal space. At this age, we should be choosing our family by giving intentional and careful consideration to who we date; bearing in mind that they should be someone we can love and marry in the near future. To this day, I’m still close friends with every single person I’ve ever lived with. They’re a part of me, and a part of my family. I honestly hope to never have to live alone. Perhaps that’s due to my extremely extroverted personality, but also because I cherish my family. There are no bad experiences with true family, just challenging learning opportunities and the domain of growth.

Tonight, we’ll come home from work, talk about our days and crack some jokes. We’ll complain about the neighbors and plot creative ways to destroy them. We’ll then cue the language of art with some tunes or an engaging story on the TV. We’ll crack open a book or study for grad school. And then, we’ll eat dinner together at the dining room table.

#CaribBoyz

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.