A Self-made Man

“Of course we’re not equal, some of us are born to serve” were his exact words yelling as he was visiting me in the valley a few years back. “Do you think Marie Antionette was born to be a regular person? She’s royalty. She was born to be a queen, it’s in her blood.” I was speechless. It was’t just the words that were crowding my ears; it was his delivery. The aggression, the hostility, the anger was a one way track in his delivery. If I cared to push back, I wouldn’t’ even know where to start. 

I didn’t judge. I decided we can talk about other things just to be pleasant since he was visiting me. My mother was present and that didn’t stop him from yelling. We moved on to other topics and they were all centered around him.

I was fooling myself. We had many new arguments and he ended up irritated … he mastered yelling because it worked for him. He talked about a certain ethnicity in Los Angeles and how he never sympathizes with people from that ethnicity. I explained that some people are stuck in circles they can’t get out of but he insisted that if he, who was homeless, (meaning he slept in his car once between his rentals) was able to make it, they have no excuse. 

But was he homeless? That’s open for debate. I uber-ed the other day with a driver who said he was homeless. He told me about his life and it was fascinating to say the least. I thanked him for sharing and told him that it was very inspiring to hear someone being homeless at one point, ending up working as a clerk for 20 years in a major airlines company, then retiring, then working as a cab driver for couple of hours a day to keep busy. He said to me that people shouldn’t judge, he was not judged as a homeless man. He said without the outside help, he couldn’t have dusted himself off and started all over. He said friends and family didn’t give up on him and he was given an opportunity. 

Opportunity is a magical word I tried using with my so-called friend who believed he did it all. He says he’s a self made man. I don’t believe in self-made notion. I believe in the power of people, what they say to us, what they do to us, how long or little they stick to our side, how inspiring a stranger you meet for 5 seconds who delivers an act of kindness or says a phrase that changes your life. I don’t believe in the self-made notion that is egocentric. 

My self-made friend got money, and he is not shy spending it for show. If you buy something he doesn’t have, he immediately justifies why he doesn’t need to have what you bought, just without being asked. 

- I am making this much money because I’m smart and I’m a hard-working ambitious man. I was homeless and I got this job at a respectful well established antique gallery and I, yes I, made them millions. 

- Okay, and how did you get the job? 

- I knew this couple from the days I was working at the bank, they trusted me and I got in touch with them when I quit. They offered me a section in their huge house and trusted me with a job. I could have screwed it up but I didn’t. I worked hard and made them millions. There were some employees stealing from them. I saved their business. 

- So you were given an opportunity that you handled well. 

- No, I was not given any opportunity. I made something for them and for myself from nothing.

- From nothing. You were given a job and a place to live at

- Not really, no. It was not charity handed out to me

- No, but it was however a platform that allowed you to achieve what you did.

- No, it wasn’t. I created that platform and made it all happen.

- I see. So you worked really hard to be where you are today right?

- Yes. Anyone else could have screwed it up. I did not. I actually tripled their business.

- Anyone else could have except you? So if someone else were to be given this opportunity, they would have screwed it up, maybe joined the other employees who were stealing

- Absolutely. 

- I’m just clarifying because it sounds to me that you are unaware of the amazing opportunity that you got and you sound like you made it all happen on your own

- I did make it all on my own. 

- So it was not an opportunity, it was not knowing the couple due to working at the bank at one point, it was not being in the right place at the right time. You simply created an opportunity for yourself.

_ Yes, I made it happen. I am a self-made man

How can you even talk to someone who is so infatuated with himself thinking he is God? I tried, because I cared at one point. I tried to point out that there were many blessings that worked to his advantage. I tried to instill some humility in him but that didn’t go well. Eventually I let go. 

I don’t give up on people easily. However, seeing every discussion turning into arguments, I had to walk away. It was too toxic since it was his way or the highway and so …. opportunity presented itself and I took the highway.

Walking the Walk Part 2

 

Do dreams come true? I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that many wishes I secretly or publicly wished for did come true. This is my Walking the Walk part 2 that took place here in the United States since Walking the Walk part 1 was about the first twenty six years of my life back home. But my wishes started back home and coming to the US was one of them. Here it goes….

Dream One

When the song “Heaven is a place on earth” came out, I started singing it along Belinda Carlisle referring the the US being heaven on earth. At the time, I knew nothing, absolutely nothing about the US. I didn’t even know the difference between CA and NY. What I did know though is that I wanted to be a singer/songwriter and I wanted to sing in English due to my obsession with the English language and songwriting. I thought that the US would be the place to launch my musical career. I knew I wanted that, I didn’t know where or how to start. I guess that’s why I looked at it as a dream.

I grew up with a friend whom I considered a brother. I loved spending time with him. We talked about the US, we talked about singing, raced to buy Madonna tapes, ran our family chores together, listened to music together. One day out of the blue he called me to go over to his place for a surprise. He started telling me a very long story about his adventure then boom, he flashed his passport in my face showing me the American visa stamped on one of its pages. I was torn apart between feeling joy for him and feeling kind of betrayed that he did it all behind my back while knowing all along that it was what I wanted for my future. We were both 25 at the time.

My choice was to look at his adventure as guidance that filled me with hope . I wished him good luck and off he went to CA. I remember feeling loss when I went with him to the bus station that took him to the airport. I wanted to go with him. I didn’t know that I just lost my best friend.

I made an appointment at the American embassy. I was graduating from school that year and my professor told me that I should get my Masters in the US after reading some of the songs I wrote. I got my bachelors degree in English in September of 1999 and on December 5th of that same year, I was flying to the US. I am finally flying to that place I associated with Belinda’s song. 

My friend who flew three months before me, had already moved from CA to NY by then. He was waiting for me at the airport in NYC. There, I was hoping that we would embark on a journey of discovery together. But that night, I got the second slap on my face when he said to me that we cannot live together. He moved out next morning. I didn’t understand, I couldn’t understand, jet lag, new surroundings, confusion. I did not argue. I was left alone in an underground studio in Brooklyn. He started his career and moved on with his life. I got the news that my scholarship was turned down and the landlord gave me a deadline to leave her studio since I was not working.

Within two months, I packed my bags and left NY to CA after I made a phone call to a childhood friend who told me to come to LA to help me find my place. I took her up on her offer.

I landed in LA and crashed on her sofa in Inglewood for 10 days, found a job as a busboy, and found a tiny little bachelor pad that I rented next to her place and started my American dream. It is weird how things work out. My friend moved to CA and ended up in NY. I moved to NY and ended up in CA. I guess we were just not meant to live in the same state. Or maybe no state was big enough for the two of us to live in. Our relationship was a rollercoaster ride. 

At that time I had my life savings from back home with me; $3000.00. Within a couple of months I lost all my money to a scam artist who claimed that she was a lawyer who could help me change my visa status. Again, I could have taken that as an excuse to pack up and go back home or as a lesson to be careful and stop being naive about trusting people. I was determined to make it. I thought the stolen money was my only insurance in case of emergencies. Little did I know that my youth, my hard work, my ambition, and my discipline were my strengths and my assurance to a future that included many many dreams coming true.


Dream Two & Three & Four

My friend and her family cared for me. They helped me with everything they possibly could. They took me during my very first weekend there to a city called Santa Monica. I fell in love with that city. It wasn’t about comparing it to Inglewood, it was more about seeing how much walking and outdoor activities I could do there. It was about the beach, the parks, the weather, the energy, etc. I secretly wished that one day I could live there but didn’t dare to say it out loud because I had no confidence in myself. It felt at the time as an impossible dream. But I wished for it anyway.

After struggling for three years with many jobs of minimum and below minimum wages from busing tables, to cleaning carpets, building fences, painting walls, being a stock-boy at a liquor store, I finally got accepted at Bank of America as a teller. Even getting that job was after I was rejected by two other banks. I wanted to break the news to my family since my mother was sick worried about me working at a liquor store. Now back in the day, communicating with your folks overseas was not the way we know it today. I had to write letters, yes real letters. I had to call my family’s landline from my landline once a month using expensive calling cards, keep the calls to a minimum, share the good news and hide the bad ones. I told my mom that I became a teller at the bank. She was so excited that I finally quit the liquor store where two guys before me were shot to death (and of course I didn’t share that part of my story with her, neither did I tell her that I was assaulted in front of my Inglewood apartment, ended up unconscious at UCLA emergency room with broken bones, bleeding mouth, concussion, and no memory for three days).

My mom told me that in no time I will become a manager. That was NOT my dream. My dream was to save $10000. I had been living hand to mouth for a few years by then and I wanted to make money so I could start recording my music. I found a second job as a barista at Starbucks at night and the process of saving started.

Within six months of being a teller, I became a personal banker. I moved out of the bachelor pad in Inglewood to a studio in Culver City and bought my first brand new car; a Toyota corolla with manual windows, manual door lock, manual everything, and I was the proud owner after driving a 1987 beat-up rusted corolla for two years. Dream two came true, I finished recording my first record titled “Silence in a Voice” by age 30. Dream three came true, I saved my first $10K.

Within two years of being a banker, I became a manager (my mom’s dream came true) and I quit Starbucks to start tutoring Arabic as a second language. Dream four came true, I moved out of my Culver City studio to a one bedroom apartment in Santa Monica, two blocks away from the Third Street Promenade and 4 blocks away from the beach. I lived there for 3 years and moved to a two bedroom unit a block closer to the beach where I stayed for 4 years. I lived in my dream city for 7 years. I never took any day there for granted. I loved it there. While working for the bank I met a couple who worked for a plastic surgeon and we become best friends. Keeping up with the corporate never-ending policies, I articulated casually my wish to work for a small business one day, like them.

Dream Five & Six & Seven

I wanted to own my own condo so I started saving for a down-payment. After watching a documentary called “The Secret”, I embraced the positive outlook on life in so many aspects; one of which, there is enough for everyone. I quit banking and started advertising my tutoring jobs on craigslist. I officially started my own business.  Bank of America asked me to go back as a part-time personal banker and in return they offered me benefits. It was a no -brainer so I worked at the bank two and a half days a week and tutored at every opportunity. I started going to open houses to look for two-bedroom condos and I stumbled across a charming condo in the city of West Hollywood. I loved West Hollywood. I found it similar to Santa Monica; a city where one could walk to restaurants, the gym, grocery stores, bars and clubs, & coffee-shops. I knew that I would want to live there. It was slightly less expensive than owning a place in Santa Monica but way too expensive for me. I ended up in a city I’ve never heard of before then; Valley Village. I ended up where I was very clear on not wanting to be; the Valley.

Little did I know that the Valley was my good luck charm; starting my Masters program, transitioning to West Hollywood, and working for a small business all happened there. My tutoring went up from kids, to high-school graduates, and from undergraduates to graduates. It inspired me to go back to school and get my Masters in teaching English as a second language so dream 5 came true. While living there, I met with a doctor who owned a medical Spa and ended up working for him and dream 6 came true. Finally, after living there for 4 years, I made a good profit selling my condo which I used as a down payment on a condo in West Hollywood.


Dream Eight and Nine and hundred …..

I continue believing now more than ever that if things were meant to happen, they will happen. But attracting them is the first step. To attract something, one should believe that good things can happen to him/her and that they are worthy of receiving those good things. I have so many dreams that I couldn’t make come true in timely manners. One of them was being able to find my mother a place to live on her own. Having a parent living with you in your forties is no joke. But no matter how hard I worked at it, it was not happening. I didn't want to give up but I'm only human and sometimes patterns of failed events tell you stories that make you desperate. Mom stayed with me for six years before I could have her move into the only place she wanted to move to; downtown Burbank. Now she's happy that she settled down somewhere safe where she's able to walk her walks and feel somewhat independent. I am happy that she's happy and I am very proud of her. 
Another dream that did not come true is breaking into the music industry. Do I still write songs? Hell yes. Do I still believe that I could become a singer? Well, I am a singer. But that was meant to remain a hobby. I am still writing the soundtrack of my life and singing at every opportunity. I believe in magic and I believe that I deserve good things so I dare to dream them and if half of them come true, then I’m so damn lucky. I also believe that nothing will come true if I sit down and wait for things to fall in my lap. Magic can happen with hard work and that’s the difference between talking the talk and walking the walk. 
They say that people don't age when their skin wrinkles, but rather they age when their hopes and dreams wrinkle. I will always dream with hope and believe that anything is possible and most importantly that I’m worthy. 

People Don't Change

A lot of people believe that people are not capable of change and that they are the products of their environment. So regardless if they’re fifteen or fifty, they simply don’t change.

I think we are the product of our environment. But if we don’t change, then we are all victims and our actions and thoughts become predictable. People do change. Some do it consciously and others go through circumstances and experiences that make them change. It can be hard work. People change when they believe there’s more to their beings, when they take the time to reflect on right and wrong, on actions and reactions, and when they’re ambitious enough to take the steps they need to improve their lives. Those who advocate the inability to change on the other hand, choose to be victims.

Some very close friends I grew up with reject the change I inevitably acquired. Some even imprisoned me in the hot-blooded teenager I used to be. Some say they know me better than I know myself. Being able to think on my feet and having my tricks up my sleeve did not serve me in situations I needed to take a step back. Being the one who always had to have the final word made me regret those final words. Being confrontational was counter productive. Making decisions while I was emotional, angry, excited did not turn out to be very smart. But those who tell me that they know me better than I know myself, tell me also that I’m itching to respond, to react, to challenge, to defy, to confront, to even be angry.

When I say I am not itching to do any of the things they mention, that I’ve changed, they say no, no one changes. Some even go as far as “You are your father, I am my father, it doesn’t matter how much you deny it, but you are.” They project the similarities they find between themselves and their parents on you, on me. So not only according to them you don’t change, but also you are trapped in continuing your parents’ legacy whether it is something you want to proudly continue, or you don’t care for. So the question is … why work hard on improving one's self at all if people don’t change?

The irony is, when you catch one of those close friends off guard maybe in an intimate moment, and tell them how much you cherish a certain sweet reaction/quality/behavior they had upon growing up, regardless if it was naive, innocent, spontaneous, or whatever else it might have been, they tell you “I don’t do that anymore. I’ve changed!” So, you can change all you want, but I can’t?

Don't tell me what I'm thinking because you don't know what I'm thinking. Don't tell me what I'm itching to do if you don't see me doing it. And forgive me if I disappoint you but I did change. Your memory of who I was did not change and it sounds like it never will. So go find yourself another friend whom you'll imprison in your memory of their past.

العالم ما بتتغير ... فلسفه قصيرة

في أصدقاء بتقلك ما حدا بيتغير. وفي أصدقاء بتسجنك بماضيك وبترفض تشوف التغير بشخصيتك، بتصرفاتك، وبتفكيرك. لا بل بتقلك شوعم بتفكر وكيف عم تشعر بناء على معرفتهم فيك وقت كنت ..... طفل أو مراهق.

وفي عالم بتامن إنو الأنسان هو نتاج بيئته. وأكيد الأنسان نتاج بيئته بس هادا ما بيعني أنه هو ضحيه بيئته إذا هالبيئه ما كانت بيئه سليمه. وطبعا إنو الانسان ما يكون ضحيه لبيئته بيتطلب مجهود وتفكير وتمييز بين الصح والغلط وفي كتير عالم ما عندها مروه تبذل أي مجهود وبتفضل تلعب دور الضحيه لانه أسهل. 

بس الفكرة إنو الواحد بيتغير وما بيبقى المراهق اللي جوابه ع راس لسانه أو الفخور بانه صاحب الكلمه الأخيرة أو الجريء اللي دائما جاهز للتحدي أو الغبي اللي بياخد قرارات بلحظات عاطفيه أو انفعاليه. الأنسان قادر على التعلم والتطور إذا هو بده.

للاسف،  أقرب الناس الك ممكن حتى تقلك إن نحنا مو بس ما متغير، لا بل منكمل مسيرة أهالينا لاننا نسخة عنهم شئنا أم أبينا وبيعكسوا أوجه التشابه اللي بشوفوها بينهم وبين أهاليهم عليك. بس هادا حكي الكسالى اللي ما عندها طموح انها تشتغل وتطور نفسها.

وبلحظة عفويه ممكن   تذكر صديق قريب من هالاصدقاء بطيبه قلبه بموقف إتخذه بالماضي وهو بكل فخر بجاوبك، هادا كان زمان، أنا اتغيرت.  بقى إنت فيك تتغير متل ما بدك وأنا لا؟

ما تقلي شو عم فكر ولا تقلي شو عم أشعر ولا شو عم اغلي لاعمل ولا تقلي انك بتعرفني أكتر مما أنا بعرف نفسي. وبعتذر إذا خيبتك بس أنا اتغيرت.  الشيء الوحيد اللي ما اتغير هو ذكرياتك عن الشخص اللي كنته من ٣٠ سنه وإذا نظرك ما بمد أبعد من هديك الأيام، عفيني من فلسفتك ومن معرفتك العميقة عني وروح دور ع صديق جديد تسجنه بذكريات الماضي. 

My take on Friendship

          Sure, you’ll go through many friendships in your years. Some will last 10 years or more, some will last 10 months or less, but the length of the relationship is not everything. It is the feeling that you are with your own siblings that is worth protecting, cherishing, and rekindling when possible, for those are the friendships that do not often or easily come along.

I have had my share of relationships that lasted years, then ended. Some of those, we grew apart physically, some others, we grew apart emotionally, and in some cases, we grew apart intellectually.

But the struggle is in the feelings, how we yield to them, how we live them, how we tolerate them, question them, survive them, deny them, and how we do not understand them. Our feelings mostly win. We have to be wise beyond our years in dealing with, reacting to, and acknowledging those feelings. We miss, long for, and yearn to lost relationships. However, the one universal mistake most of us make is when we mix up experiencing loss with feeling lonely.

Loneliness is not a healthy incentive to go chasing lost friendships. Loneliness can be felt even with the company of friends when there isn’t any connection. Yet some of us want to be surrounded by people regardless of that connection. If that works for you, and it happens to work for the friend you are connecting with, then it can’t be that bad. But that is not a real relationship. It is doomed to end and restart over and over since its foundation is based on "better have someone's company than being alone." And believe me, a lot of times it is better being alone than having the company of people you think of as friends who do not treat you well or respect you and your individuality, or take advantage of you and your generosity.

Experiencing loss is hard. You have to be strong to go through it and survive it. You cannot hide from it or deny it, because it will come back and haunt you if you do. Experiencing loss is worth investigating. That friendship had something very special that its absence created void in your life; a void that has nothing to do with feeling lonely. That friendship nurtured you, gave you more depth, different dimension, unique color, self-worth, comfort, and a certain kind of satisfaction that you are unable to put into words. It gave you purpose, a reason to smile, to continue, to be a better person, to nourish, to contribute, to listen, to share, to give, and when you give, you feel love.

Loss is definitely an incentive to make an effort to rekindle certain relationships. However, for that loss to be dealt with in a healthy way, it has to be felt on both ends and it has to have closure. Speak up, connect, tell them how you feel, tell them what your intention is, and find a way to go past whatever caused that friendship to end. Life’s too short to live it alone when you are able to go past certain issues and you know that the other person you miss, is probably missing you too. Work it out.

Many of my previous friends booked a special place in my heart and I cherish their memories. They had a positive role in my life, and that role was fulfilled, so it was time to move on. And although I miss them and I would love to see them and hang out with them again, I just don't feel a loss without them. But there are only a few, a very selected few, that the loss of their presence in my life weighs down on me. Those were my true friends and I am blessed to still have some friends in my life that I learned from my past relationships to work out past any and all issues and focus on what really matters; our friendship.

Disheartening

Disheartening

“What you have just said is disheartening to us; Americans” He had his say and walked away and I thought I felt pretty indifferent about his words. I turned around and continued my night out with my friends as if nothing had happened. Yet, I see myself writing this post and I wonder, how genuine my indifference was.

Once upon a time I was hanging out with some friends and a friend of a friend joined us. He asked me where I came from and I said with pride, Syria. He was in his mid forties, seemed well balanced, sounded friendly, appropriate, and pretty confident, till he heard my answer. He looked like he’s struggling for words to say so I put his discomfort at ease by saying “I have been here for 17 years.” and magically those words snapped him out of it. 

So what I said, not in so many words, is that I am not a refugee, but what if I were! Aren’t my sisters and my extended family ones? Was that stranger’s reaction an eye opener about how the closest people to me feel when they see those looks of pity in the eyes of locals who ask them “and where do you come from?” or “and what is Aleppo?”

I shouldn’t have insinuated that I’m not a refugee. I should have casually continued my conversation with “and where do you come from?” His reaction shouldn’t have mattered because even if I were one, I have nothing to be ashamed of. 

The refugees, I cannot speak on their behalf just like our friend did with “us, Americans”, but the ones I know did not choose to become refugees. They did not want to leave our country where it felt home, to go somewhere where they do not speak the language, do not understand the culture, do not have a business or decent employment opportunities, free education where they pay $0.00 for their children to go to schools and what is equivalent to $20 annually for their bachelor degrees, where they can go to any doctor without having to wait for referrals, where everything is affordable. Why would they leave when they have all that in a secular country that gives them the rights that matter to any human being who wants and needs to live a decent life? Yes, they did not have all their rights, but where does anyone do? Don’t fool yourself, the minute you were born, you were domesticated to fit in, you will never have all your rights till ….. you die or find utopia.

So what was disheartening to that friend of a friend that he felt compelled to walk away from our group? It was something I said that did not match his domestication, aka, brainwashing. 

Mind you, I wasn’t the one who was asking the questions:

- Is your family safe from that crazy dictator who is bombing your people using chemical weapons?

- Yes, my family is safe because they happen to reside under our government protection.

- You mean the freed part of Syria right?

- No, I mean the part that the government is still protecting.

- Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that.

- I’m not.

- Interesting, aren’t you afraid for their safety?

- Why would I? I grew up in Syria and I never had to once look behind my shoulders even if I was walking back from a party at 4 in the morning.

- Yes, but the situation has changed now. You have a dictator who is obsessed with power.

- Our president is not a dictator, but you were led to believe so. If he was a dictator bombing his own people, why would he get elected in 2014 by 70% of Syrians all over the world?

- I don’t know what you’re talking about man, I see the images of those kids in the news and my heart breaks over the suffering of your people. I do not understand how you are defending a war criminal.

- I do. I check more than one resource when it comes to media coverage. I had my suspicion the minute Barbara Walter interviewed President Bachar Al-Assad and ABC broadcasted it under “The dictator speaks”. Wasn’t that an indicator that they’re taking away from you the right of forming your own impression and opinion? The title gave it away didn’t it? I happen to check neutral resources and to ask my immediate family there after watching the local news if what they’re broadcasting is true. I happen to research and find out who the American allies are and see why they are doing what they are doing to Syria and at what cost the weapon deals are taking place. I do my homework before I accuse president Bachar Al-Assad with the so called dictator cliche that the American media wants you to believe. I refuse to take things at their face value. I learned my lesson since the Iraq war lie. I am sure you have way too many other lies that you grew up hearing where the truth came out a year, a decade, or two later.

- What you have just said is disheartening to us; Americans.

I couldn’t respond because he walked away as if I hurt his feelings to the core. 

If I offended you by talking about the American media and its agenda, you also offended me by speaking on behalf of all Americans. Last time I checked, I have been an American myself and it’s been 11 years already.

Yet you didn’t see me walking away telling you that your ignorance was disheartening. 

Gym buddies

There are two kinds of gym buddies where I work out and I can't figure out which one to join

1) The screamers: Instead of exhaling, they scream in pain as if someone just told them we're filming Hulk and they are Hulk. They are usually round in shape, no seriously, ROUND, have angry 😡 faces, monopolize several weights around them to rotate their work out as if they own the gym, while the rest of us wonder where did all the weights go. They also throw the weights obnoxiously on the floor to make an impact (impact on the floor, cause no one is getting impressed with dumping the weights and the soothing noise it makes). Finally, some of them do not wear deodorant because it is more manly. They probably think it's sexy too. They also don't take the towel that is offered complimentary upon their check-in because they believe in leaving a sweat trace on the benches for others to find. You can spot them from a distance. Just look at the breathless red faces around them who hold their breath with the hopes that "this too shall pass" till they are able to breathe again or just fall down and die.

2) The self-admirers: Those ones are not round in shape, they are either skinny or in good shape. They walk with poise, with grace, with their heads held high, so high sometimes you wonder how do they mange to walk without tripping. They don't smell, they don't make any noise. They also don't bother anyone. They REALLY mind their own business. What is that business? It is staring at their reflection(s) in the mirrors with infatuation. If you don't know what's going on, you might get the impression they don't have mirrors in their apartments so they're making the best out of the situation (seizing the opportunity if you will). You might even catch them taking sneak peeks at their abs every 5 seconds, lifting their tank tops up and flexing, then flexing again, then flexing sideways, then shaking their bonbons. Some of them get lost in the moment thinking they are performers. You see them squeezing their eyes with passion to the music they're listening to on their phones, lip-syncing the song better than Milli Vanilli, and dancing better than Britney!

Then there's me. 🤔 yup, the opinionated observer who questions what is wrong with him!

A door closes, another opens

Not even in my wildest dreams had I dared to dream of spending the summer semester studying French in Paris, let alone two summers in row. Don't get me wrong, it didn't fall in my lap, I had to work for it. But I didn't even know that it was a possibility when I felt stuck, completely stuck, working a corporate job that made me miserable the last 3 of the 12 years of my employment there. The minute (not really the minute, had to plan it months ahead) I quit my corporate job, I went back to school to get my Masters; a major in English and a minor in French. The rest was history. As scared as I was; being a middle aged man (yes I said it), having financial commitments, supporting a family member, I took a chance and it paid off.

The point of sharing this is to say that what I knew and believed in; a door closes, another opens, would only happen to other people, not me. Yeah I preached to my friends to take a chance, to go for it, to hang in there, told them that tomorrow is another day and the blessings are there, but that positive healthy approach seemed too good to be true in my case.

After three years of struggling and putting up with the new management at work, I finally quit. When I did and went back to school, I had to fulfill six prerequisites, two of which, were courses in a foreign language. When I chose French, something crazy good happened a few months later. I earned a scholarship to do a French course level 2 at the French Catholic school of Paris in 2014. I knew that it was an experience of a lifetime and that I would cherish every moment of it since I never thought it would repeat. I continued my studies and earned yet another scholarship to do a French course level 5 at the same school, summer of 2015. The blessings that are out there waiting for us will have more room when we make more room. I am a humbled student of life and I am grateful to taking a chance on myself and to standing up for what I believe in, which made my life miserable at work, but gave me an incentive to seek what is out there. I am sharing because I hope that someone out there who might be feeling the same way I had just a year ago, might get inspired and step out of the "compromise" and "this is as good as it gets" mentality and make bold choices. Take a chance on yourself, you are worth it baby ;)