Where I reach rock bottom...

I have completely lost all sense of independence, and by extension, dignity. Today cemented that.

For the past few weeks, I've been using my sister's car to get around town and my job. For the past few weeks, I've noticed that the transmission has been acting a bit funny. Rather than risk getting left in the middle of I-25 (as I feared on my trip back from Leadville), I informed my father of the car's troubles. And as such, I was left car-less today as it undergoes repairs.

Now, getting dropped off at high school in the morning was kind of ironic, and I'll admit, a bit funny. I even joked about it with my sister as I was getting out of the car and she was helping me unload about 100 lbs worth of stuff. Work was relatively fine, except for the little assholes that think they have a reason to be angsty about life, despite living in an upper-middle class neighborhood with a really steady family life.

What was NOT funny was waiting after school to get picked up. Like the old days I detested, I sat and watched as hoards of children five, six and even seven years younger than I hopped happily into their cars and drove away to their happy existence. I, on the other hand, sat in my ugly navy and sky blue work shirt, with a huge black case containing my camera and my lunch box. I sat and waited for 20 minutes until my sister came to pick me up. Like my elementary, middle, and even high school years, I was one of the last kids to get picked up.

FML.

Culture

"I have to go to India -- their culture is so much like ours."

My sister Melissa made this really interesting observation earlier today while watching the Indian entertainment channel that plays on regular TV every Saturday. They showcase the newest films and albums being released by Indian directors and artists.

This observation got me thinking back to a conversation I had with Aliza and some of her friends in Cairo about being brown. There, six people several countries discussed (over fava beans and Egyptian bread!) the differences between brown folks in the East and the West. In the end, we discovered that there were more similarities than you would imagine, with a couple of exceptions.

Filling Melissa in on this, I also recalled a conversation I once had with Erin, my Aussie friend, about how the US exports its culture, and the effect that it has on the globe. In US culture, independence is key. You should move out of your parents' house at 18, go on with your life, and never look back. Worry about yourself first, even if it comes at the expense of your family or your home. Anything outside of that is considered weird and ethnic. But I've come to realize that across the globe, US culture is the odd-man out. China, India, Mexico, Spain, even Egypt and Thailand, all of these countries throughout the world see nothing wrong with putting family first, with living at home until you're 30, with respecting your parents and your elders, and with upholding certain gender norms. So if the majority of countries and cultures around the world uphold similar values, why is it that we in the US see each of those countries as having archaic, antiquated mores? Really, isn't the US the one that should feel like the outsider? It's not as black-and-white as that, I realize, and obviously the US isn't the sole country to have these norms, but I'm just ranting here. And trying to make a point about right Erin was, and how powerful the export of US culture is. Basically, it's one country making an entire globe feel like everyone else is a freak for thinking differently, when really it's just blond Hollywood bimbos and writers telling the world how they should think, what they should do, and how they should look.

Many times, I've felt as though I am somehow strange for being a cultural outsider. I never went to sleepovers, my parents didn't understand Prom or Homecoming, and I have never eaten meatloaf. Growing up, there were many instances when I was angry for feeling left out, and for feeling like a misfit. But as I've gotten older, I've come to embrace living in the hyphen and I've really come to appreciate it. I came to the realization that I like the way I grew up. I like having two homelands, I love being close to my family, and I love admiring, celebrating, and sharing my Mexican culture. I'm glad that I am unique, that I'm not another Abercrombie-wearing lemming and that I have no idea what it would be like to have a date pick me up at home without fearing the wrath of my father.

Best of all, I love that I have the opportunity to examine these things with that outsider's viewpoint, and that I can travel the world and relate to other people and other cultures because I have one of my own.

50/50 chance

I see potential here, but I could also foresee it going terrible. Kerouac's poetry is awesome, and I like both Ben and Jay. But putting music behind the poetry will certainly give it a different feel.

On a random note, here is the joke on the popsicle stick I just finished:
Q: "Why did the pitcher not like caves?"
A: "Because he was afraid of bats."

Ya know work is bad when...

I've had the most exhausting week that I can recall in a very, very long time. I've also had the chance to see some of Colorado's amazing natural beauty that I had never appreciated before moving away and coming back.

I've driven in and around the Rockies twice this week, yesterday going to Leadville (a 200-mile round trip) and again to Bailey today. The majestic colors and scenery of this state is really amazing -- I remember several road trips through Illinois and some of Missouri that were less than stellar. And driving from Denver to Chicago is pretty dull too. But since coming back from fantastic natural sites like Santorini, Ireland and Amsterdam, I've had a new appreciation for natural beauty, and I really love that I can find it 30 minutes away.

What I don't love is the lack of sleep I've had this week. I've worked two 12-hour days consecutively, running on about four hours of sleep each day. I've been getting up around 4:30 am every day this week, and let me say that being awake hours before the sunrise is depressing. Never in my life will I bitch about 7 am being too early anymore -- you don't know early until you spent two weeks leaving your house at 5:30 am.

In a really strange chance of fate, this week I've also visited both of the schools in Colorado that have been unfortunate enough to have school shootings occur at them. My week started with Columbine HS and ended with Platte Canyon HS.

Wish I was able to post some of the photos I took of my trip to Leadville and Bailey, but the photos are on my phone and I can't seem to send them to myself. Let me just say -- it's beyond amazing.

Job hunting = tears for sure

So I have spent the better part of the past three hours online, looking at potential jobs (while I'm working at the moment, my current job has nothing to do with my expensive degree and is quite dull. Plus, it means I wake up at the ass-crack of dawn four days out of the week, which I am SOOO not about).

Undergoing this long, exhaustive search has made me realize a few things, which in turn have made me feel rather depressed:

1. I have no real work experience, and as such, nothing to offer. My internships at newspapers are great experience for a newspaper job, but since my options are extremely limited there, that experience ends up being good for nearly nothing.

2. My degree was a big waste. What did I spent four years and over $100,000 on when I can't find a job related to what I want to do? Or find a job where at least I put that degree and all that damn money to use?

3. I am totally fucked. I watched "Julie & Julia" last night, and there was a point in the film where Julie, the modern character, realizes she's turning 30 and never became the writer she aspired to be. In fact, she hadn't really done anything, and was working as (basically) a telemarketer for the government. I realized that I don't want to turn into that person at all -- I don't want to wake up in seven years and realize that I'm still working the same job that has nothing to do with what I desire to do. It's quickly becoming my biggest fear and each day I feel as though I'm getting closer and closer to that nightmare.

I know I'm being melodramatic and that things will work out, and that in spite of everything, I should be thankful that I at least have a job, regardless of what it is. But it's really easier said than done to sit back and tell myself that everything will be fine when I just feel like hyperventilating and freaking out -- night after night.

Finally, its my time now...

After quite a lot of going back and forth between letting myself get permanently settled in Denver and just jetting off again somewhere else, I've come to a decision that I'm making myself stick to: I'm hanging around Denver for a while.

As much as I love journalism, I love my family and friends more, and I've been neglecting them for the last five years. They've taken a backseat to my need for adventure, travel and self-discovery. Well, five years later I'm much smarter and more mature, and it's time that I get to know them again. I can stop being selfish and allow myself to dedicate more of me to them. Which is what I plan to do.

I've found a job taking school portraits, and I'll start on Monday. I'll keep looking for something I'd like to do for an extended period of time, and re-discover my home, my friends, and my town. If anyone wants to visit me and go hiking, bike riding, and even skiing, you know where I'll be.