Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Ramblin'...where to begin? I taste the summer on your peppery skin...

This has got to be the first real snow day I've had in years. In college, school still happens regardless of the weather. You may or may not have class, depending on whether or not your professor has a car with all-wheel drive, but you still have that 15-page paper to write, that group project meeting at the library at 9:00 and that take-home test from the maniacal calculus teacher who thinks spending four hours a week in class, three hours in tutoring and God-only knows how long per week on homework just isn't enough. This is the closest I've come to a grade-school snow since grade school. I helped a friend dig out her car and her driveway, which was sort of like building a fort (not really), and work was canceled, so now I'm all cozy in my little apartment watching the snow continue to fly by the window and accumulate in the bittersweet vines across the way.

I finally talked to my dad about "the future" and he was wonderful, of course. I don't know why I still dread talking to my father about difficult things, like he's going to blow up on me like he did when I was a kid and be angry and disappointed in me. He's not that person any more; we've both grown a lot since those dark days and we've also grown closer. I honestly tell people that my dad is my best friend, because it's true. I thank my lucky stars every day to have a dad like him. He's kind and patient (except when he or I get lost) and funny and a blast to hang out with. He always gives me the best advice and he's so damn smart I can hardly stand it sometimes. Just the wisdom that comes from living a long, hard life, I suppose.

Anyway, I told him how much I hated my job and don't think I can survive another year and a half, let alone the six months I have left in my current contract. The work is boring and not challenging at all, the other AmeriCorps members (except Tiff and Mike, who ROCK) are catty and take themselves so seriously it's almost ridiculous. The trainings are crushingly boring and such a huge waste of time for the most part. I wake up every day and need the Jaws of Life to pry myself out of my bed and go to work, and on my days off, I spend half my time dreading having to go back. It's embarassing, frankly, because it's should be a great job--I'm helping people, I'm in an office full of nice coworkers, I'm learning a lot, and I'm getting paid. I should be happier, but I'm just not. Even if I can't explain it, it's honestly the way I feel, and it's important to be honest with yourself and listen to what your body is telling you. I told my dad all of this and he said he knew exactly how I felt. He remembers jobs that he hated more than anything in the world, and he also remembers working for companies that were closing down and playing solitaire as he counted down the hours (sounds familiar).

I told him I was still unsure about what to do next. He said, "Well obviously you need to look for a new job. Start looking now, because it very well might take that long to find one." He also said I should try to figure out what I'm passionate about, what I'm good at, and what makes me happy and pursue that. I honestly laughed out loud and said, "Funny you should say that, because I've been dreading telling you this, but...I know what really makes me happy is cooking..." and then braced myself for the hurricane.

Instead, he said, "Great! You can make a lot of money and be really happy in a cooking career." I was half taken aback and half completely unsurprised. Half of me knows my father is going to be supportive of whatever I decide to do, but half of me still remembers the old scars. I told him how scared I am of making such a huge shift and such a huge commitment, and told me "Why not start out small? Dip your toes in the water before you jump in? Take a few cooking classes and see if you like it; get a part-time job at a restaurant and see if you think you can cut it. If you fall in love with it, you'll turn 25 in less than two years and finally get your trust fund from when we lost mom. If you want to cash in some stocks and go to culinary school, it's your money and your life. I say go for it!" Seriously, he's so damn smart sometimes.

I love my dad so much it hurts sometimes. He's the best man that I've ever known and I'm so proud to call him father. I usually don't have the courage to tell him so (without a little "liquid encouragement" anyway), but I really should say it more often. He's the best dad in the world. Frankly, I think it makes it hard for me to find a boyfriend that measures up because my standards are so high. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm looking for someone just like my dad. It's a good thing, in my case, assuming that such a man exists (sometimes I'm not so sure). I guess that's enough mushy stuff about my dad. I think I'll go enjoy this snow day a little more: read a book, watch a Disney movie, play my guitar...did I mention my New Year's Resolution? It's to rediscover my passion for playing guitar. On New Year's Day my dad totally called me out on not practicing and losing my passion and I finally admitted to myself that it's because I miss my girls so much--Nina, Medina, Carlo, and Katy especially. I miss sitting around the living room at Park Street, passing the guitar around and singing along to songs we all know by heart. I've felt lost without them and so I've barely touched my guitar since graduation. I'm going to get it back though--the passion, the talent, the calouses and everything. I'm starting by leaving my guitar out of the case all the time. It sits on my sofa mostly, and so far I've been picking it up a lot more now that it's not "out of sight, out of mind" under my bed. It feels great, and I can't wait to show off my new songs to my dad and all our friends at the Luau in April. I'll show 'em I've still got what it takes!!!

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