5 Days Later

In less than a week, I will wake up same as I always do. I will put my pants on one leg at a time, grab my sunglasses and walk out the door same as I always do. Except today will be different. I will be different. I will stand next to my brother in support of him. Yet, I will do this while my politics and beliefs sit on the side of I-95. On that day, my brother will be a Marine. From that second on, every step he takes is down a path built by an institution I do not support. For one reason and one reason alone. There is no boot camp for veterans. They are not untrained, de-briefed or re-humanized. The old saying, "Only the strong survive" does not speak for the battle fields or the countries overseas. It speaks to the returning veterans thrown back into society with no fighting chance of completely becoming a full-functioning citizen. I will look into the face of my younger brother and only see the possible man I might serve in a soup kitchen years down the line.

Regardless of my politics, I will stand proudly by his side as he accomplishes the first goal he set for himself. I will do this because for the rest of our lives we will differ in our politics, our religions, our lives and our heart aches. We both know this to be true. It took one letter for me to realize all of this. One letter I didn't even have to open before I knew that on the day my brother becomes a Marine, I will stand by his side. He may be a Marine, but he's still my little brother.

Thoughts on Bed.

In two months, I will have been without a bed for a whole year. Some people say its entirely possible to wake up on the wrong side of the bed...What if you are on the wrong bed to begin with? I'm not saying I haven't enjoyed the whole experience, but maybe I am ready for a bit of stability in my life- ie, a bed. I mean, I am 23. But if I have a bed, then does that mean I can't leave as easily? Will such a permanent item keep me from doing something I love? 

What We Will Talk About

If McCain is elected.

Based on the comments stated by McCain, when I go to my 10 year high school reunion, we will be discussing the withdrawal of troops in Iraq. In the midst of talking to the people that I've spent the past 10 years avoiding, reconnecting with the people that have simply been my friends on Myspace, and seeing what unfulfilled paper pushing jobs people have- we will somehow talk about "this war in Iraq" You know, the one that started when we were all in the 11th grade.

I don't like the sound of that. Unfortunately, many of my cohorts, like myself, were raised in households that lauded the Bush administration. I'd be afraid to ask how many of my buddies are Republicans. (Not that this really matters, they probably don't vote) That's all I could think about last night during my overnight workcamp.

The Answers My Friend Are Blowin' in the Wind

• I didn't ever pay attention to the fact that anchovies are in Ceasar salad. When I found this out, I talked to my mother and apparently, it's a fact that she has been hiding from us. My father didn't even know about the anchovies.
  
• There's also an online networking website that many professionals use. Both of my parents are on it, yet as I worked my way onto posting my resume- neither of them mentioned this as a tool.
  

I'm sure there are other things my mother hasn't told me, but these two have been the "revelations of 2008" Trivial at best, it still makes me laugh. I wonder what will become apparent to me as the years go on. I also wonder what things I will keep to myself when I raise kids.

Word to Your Mother

Some mothers spend their Mother's Day at a nice dinner. Others, are left alone while the kids are taken out. Still others are treated to visits by grandchildren, trips to the spa and/or a vacation of sorts. When we were younger, my brother and I would get our mother exactly what she asked for on Mother's Day: a six-pack of Mountain Dew, Rasberry Pop Tarts and 4 hours of not having her children around (or atleast quiet) Since we've both flown the coop and this is the first official year of neither of us spending the day with her, I wondered what it would be that my mother would do. After all, for half of my life she's been a housewife and for the other half a single mother. She never wanted anything those other mothers asked for on Mother's Day. No spa, no fancy meals, not even a trip to see a movie. So how is my mother spending Mother's Day? Weeding, chasing after her puppy (who has an affinity for underwear) and then reading a magazine- the same thing she does every Sunday. Except today, there's a bunch of Stargazer Lilies on her kitchen table. And after all these years, it makes sense. All my mother ever wanted was the freedom to do what she wanted on Mother's day.

**I should mention that 19 years ago, her Mother's Day consisted of having my brother and every 6 years she forgets Mother's Day so my brother can have his birthday when they fall on the same Sunday. **

Classifieds

Getting a job- easier or harder with the Internet? I have resumes on three sites, I'm "linkedin" and I can get advice about how to go about getting a job while I eat Fruit Loops and listen to my neighbors play AC DC. But, I'm also supposed to have email etiquette and know whether or not to send an email "thank you" or if a typed note is preferred. No more days of waking up and looking through classifieds and resigning myself to the fact that it could take months before I have a job. Nowadays, it's all about connections, your network (which reminds me of the Verizon commercial when people ask me how my network is) and whether or not you spend hours a day on the various sites that jobs will post to. I suddenly have to know how to sell myself in 5 minutes. I haven't felt this cheap since I went to roommate interviews 9 months ago.

WANTED: JOB. Exciting, lucrative job that will allow me to speak to large groups, write essays or reports on products I've sampled, and coordinate projects. Preferably little phone conversation. Health and Dental a must. Mondays optional before 11am.

Until I find this job in the classifieds section of the Village Voice- I'll content myself with the soduku.

The Usual Suspects

In a month, I will be going home again. For 6 hours. Then going to South Carolina to see my brother become a Marine. Then back to Florida and finally back to NYC. This is the longest both my brother and myself have gone without seeing our parents. After 7 months out of Florida and the 5th year out of Tampa, I am finally learning that home means many things. It's true we all fit into a role designed well in advance when we return to our parents' homes. I wonder what my role must look like to those around me. I'm certainly not the perfect child. Nor am I out of favor with anyone. (Hence my willingness to sit in a car for 12 hours with my father.) Still, it leads me to wonder about the things I will be thankful to leave behind when I get back on my plane bound for JFK. What will I realize I miss the most? Maybe it will be the sunsets. Most likely, it will be the car rides, sweet tea and not having to pay for my meals. Thankfully, my father and I share one thing in common when road tripping: Mini-Bar at the hotel.

Spending My Saturday Reading Not Doing

I read all of Robert Rodriguez'  Rebel Without A Crew yesterday. Mostly on the N train doing the ludicrous loop from Astoria to Brooklyn. It made me think of all the times I spend reading about doing the things I enjoy and not actually enjoying the things I do. It also made me think about all the people that have accomplished things at my age. Robert Rodriguez was 23 when he got El Mariachi written, made and bought. I turn 23 in exactly 17 days.   What are the odds that I can get something done in those days? (I did smile a bit when RR went into a diatribe for a page about the accomplishments of others- he was dreading 26...) Maybe someone will ask RR what he wanted to accomplish by 40 and see if he's taken care of it before his 40th birthday this year. Maybe I will have to ask. Meanwhile, I will concern myself with more meaningful tasks like avoiding my art with the excuse "I can't afford it"