Trapped: Diary of a Receptionist

Spending time with a receptionist friend of mine made me think. How boring would it be “working” the whole day when your work consists of sitting at a computer and waiting for the phone to ring? The time passes so slowly when you’re bored. You feel like pulling out your hair.

Just think with me for a second. Put yourself in this poor victim’s shoes. All the other employees are on retreats and vacations so you’re left with no work. And yet, you can’t go home. What kind of torture is this?! This world is coming to such abnormal terms with the definition of a secretary.

So you decide to finally get up. And once you get up, the phone starts to ring off the hook. And then you decide to sit at the phone and wait… 30 minutes… 1 hour goes by and nothing. And right when you have to get up and pee, it starts to ring again and 6 inconsiderate callers decide to stop you from going through your daily bodily functions. You start to get angry at these callers. You try to compose yourself by breathing in and out slowly, but you start talking while grinding your teeth together.

The point is, receptionists are pretty much under appreciated. They have to have incredible patience. They have to have stamina, endurance, strength. So next time you think of a summer job as a receptionist, think again.

Naturally Symbolic

Its awesome when you get a day off of everything and decide to go to the beach. Just spend the whole day there. It has these amazing qualities that just make you think. About nothing. About something. It reminds you constantly about the happiest moments of your life. It makes you reflect on things that went wrong but ended up being exactly what you needed.

The beach has so many components that I stand completely in awe of. Its amazing to watch the sun, whether rising or setting. Its always there, always faithful. It continues to rise and set everyday without end. It gives you the sense that everything is ok with the world.

Even the water. The constant tide pushing and pulling little objects that have been washed up a million times over. Its sound is soothing, and its cool temperature contrasts perfectly with the sun’s rays. It talks incessantly, hardly pausing for a breath, and impatient to say what it needs to.

Its so cool to find a really smooth rock on the beach. As insignificant as it is, you pick it up because of its smoothness. And what has caused it? The continual beating of the water and sand against it, until it becomes the end product that you pick up because it seems special.

The beach just has a healing effect. I don’t know what it is, but you always feel clean after you leave. It drains you of strength in a good way and drains you of negative emotions that you feel. Its an escape. A place to just hang out and talk to God.

I think God made the beach the way He did because of the way it reminds us of Him. His apparent faithfulness. His unending mercy, grace and love. His peace. Everything at the beach is a natural symbol that points upward to the Maker of it all. Its just naturally symbolic.

And I think we should be too.
Acts 4:13 

Culture Shock

I’ll start with the most obvious statement you may ever hear: Everyone comes from somewhere.

You’re thinking: Duh! Where is she going with this? Ahh. Continue, dear reader.

So everyone comes from somewhere. Everyone has a nationality that they can allow to define who they are. I saw allow, because not everyone lets the culture dictate their personality. Now, my family happens to be Cuban. The stereotype that comes to everyone’s head is loud. That’s it. And maybe fat because of all the pork and red meat we eat. The majority of the time, this is true. Its actually very true. I’m not bashing being Cuban at all. On the contrary, I enjoy the history of my culture and the good stuff that comes from it. And it is true, I can be considered somewhat loud. But its also true that some of the stereotype does not form my entire being.

I’ll tell you a story. Recently, my family came down and visited from New England. Since they were here, the family gathered to see them. I mean, the ENTIRE family. Like my grandmother’s little house was packed with so many people the fire marshall would’ve had a heart attack. That packed. Food was flowing freely, conversations could be heard clearly across the neighborhood because of the 120 decibels coming out of everyone’s mouth, and Cuban music was playing on the stereo. The night continued, and I developed the biggest headache I’ve ever had in a while.

You would think since I’m Cuban, I would fit right it, get used to it and just roll with everything. Oh no. Its funny how my immediate family, my parents and my sisters and I, live such quiet lives together. Its such a contrast to the culture that was present that night at the party. The fact is, I wasn’t used to it. It even bothered me. It made me want to tell everyone to shut up and go home and scream over there. And even better, its something I will never get used to.

Everytime a gathering like that takes place, I always get Culture Shock. Maybe even Culture Trauma.

Blogs. Blahgs.

I recently received a comment from an individual that I’ve come to love and respect very much. He’s been in my life for a while now, since I was a little girl in elementary school. His daughter has become one of the most incredible friends I’ve ever had. His son, is my good friend, fellow musician and like a big brother to me. And his wife is a great person to talk to, and fun to hang around.

But I didn’t come to talk about his family. Oh no. I’ve come to talk about the intriguing subject of blogs.

A weird subject? Not completely. Irrelevant? On the contrary. I’ve come to realize that blogs take maintenance. You can slap me on the forehead for that almost idiotic statement, but what I say is entirely of value. Blogs take time. They take effort. They make you think… a lot. They come in a myriad of colors and designs and are organized in no particular order. They range from updates on your favorite band to what color the neighbor’s cat’s vomit was. They are selfish little things that keep the author somewhat entertained and feeling important.

Selfish? Selfish? How is writing selfish, you may ask? Let me put it to you this way. Blogs are, in a sense, a way to unleash thoughts, feelings, and intellect (uhh… some different than others) in a way that other people can reach it. Its almost like writing about yourself just because you feel like it. Granted, there are the exceptions to the rule. Some blogs are used as a resumé sort of thing, or a portfolio (a really great one is www.georgecuevas.com). Others write about very important subjects and update you on the latest news. So yes, there are blogs that are in effect that give us a persepective on the world that is needed.

But a blog like this. Like mine. I call it a Blahg. Why? Its just a way to write, which is something I enjoy doing. Am I excelling in my writing skills? Maybe. Am I developing a writing style? Perhaps. But I’m doing what I enjoy most: writing my opinion, even if its completely trivial.

This is my blahg(: And I love it.

Endorphins Make You Happy

I’ve often heard the excersise is great for you. An obvious comment, yes. But its good for you in so many ways I didn’t even think of.

 Obviously, it keeps you fit and healthy which is something you don’t see around America a lot. No one likes to excersise because it takes work and stamina to keep it up. Its funny that when you start working out, you can’t really stop. You begin to feel like its necessary for your survival, and in many ways, that’s not inaccurate. But there’s one aspect that interested me in particular about excersise.

 Supposedly, exercise releases a neurotransmitter called an endorphin. These endorphins have incredible benefits. They are proteins that lower blood pressure,  and are even said to fight cancer. They’re powerful little things. Its kinda crazy to think that one small activity can have such a great effect on your entire body.

Endorphins also do something that I love. They make you happy. Its weird to think about, but its true. And the more happy you are, the more you want to keep going doing excersise. Its like a win-win situation.  But anyway, I know this was a completely random post but maybe if more people excersised, there would be less angry, bitter people because they would all be happy from endorphins! Just a thought, that began with a subject.

What Doesn’t Kill You… Makes You Cry

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. Ever heard that one before? In all sincerity, I believe its true. What the phrase doesn’t tell you is everything that goes on in between.

Between going through an event of any sort that inflicts pain emotionally and/or physically and completely recovering from it, there is a process that goes on. That process is what makes you stronger. The process of building up and retracing steps to get back on track. And besides going through the actual event, the process of rebuilding can be more difficult and more painful.

Like I said, its a process. And not a short one. Its a long, time-consuming, process. Its going through consequences. Its dealing with people you don’t want to deal with. Its trying to get out of a hole that you dug yourself, in some cases. Depressing? Yeah.

But I’m not here to depress anybody. I’m here to tell you that there’s hope. You are not alone. Everyone goes through what you’re dealing with some time, some way or another. As Corrie Ten Boom once said, “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”

I Cannot Condone It

I first heard the expression, “I cannot condone it” in a movie. I liked the sound of it, so I looked up the definition of “condone”. It means to overlook or disregard an action or type of behavior.

Its amazing how much our society condones certain kinds of behavior. Its developed such high tolerance for so much that its almost like its been desensitized. There’s no shame in any action, no severe consequences to the deed. Activists are complaining against capital punishment, for crying out loud.

What’s happened? Why are we like this? What has lead to the desensitization of the world we’re living in? Why is there tolerance for ignorant, foolish and selfish behavior? What has caused us to think that doing certain things is ok, and why isn’t anybody teaching us otherwise? 

I’ll be completely transparent. My generation is scary. We’ve grown up too fast, we’ve followed in the footsteps of horrible examples, we are swayed much too easily for our own good. And we’re the ones that are going to have to lead this country in a few years? I wonder how this country will end up with only a few good people in the midst of a sea of corruption.  

If you’re older than my generation, I implore you with utmost sincerity and urgency: start in your own life. Start by setting a good example for all of us. Start by telling us “I cannot condone your behavior.” Start by walking the walk and talking the talk. We’ll see it, we want it, and we need it. 

Ready. Set. Go. Again.

There are so many moments in my life that I wonder about. So many moments that I think, “Man, what if I hadn’t made that decision?”. I wonder about how life would’ve been if I had made a different choice, said a different thing, considered someone else before myself.

Life, however, has a funny way of offering second chances. It doesn’t always happen, but in those rare times that it does, even if its the slimmest chance, its worth a new slate. Starting fresh, starting new, starting clean. That breath of fresh air that’s been longed for finally arrives and its overwhelming how amazing it feels to begin again. The weight is lifted, you feel free.

I’m not saying that starting new is easy. I’m also not saying that starting fresh is free of consequences. There is a price to pay for past actions, and it stings to have to look back sometimes, but its also the price to pay for your newfound freedom. But its so completely worth the final liberty of being able to say “I made this mess, but I cleaned up. And I cleaned it up gooooood!”.

Heart Beats Fast

I recently saw this quote: “What’s the point of philosophy… if it doesn’t make your heart race?”. In response, here’s my case.

Philosophy is the creation of ideologies. By dictionary definition, “the rational investigation of the truths and principles of being, knowledge, or conduct”. Anything can end up being a philosophy. Its usually involved with connecting an idea to everday life, or even something deeper. Sometimes it has to do with abstract subjects; things that cannot be seen or touched.

The point of philosophy? Explanation. Interpretation. Implication. Examination. Discovery. Intellect. The abstract. Knowledge. Curiosity. Answers.

Philosophy has made the hearts of many race. It has gotten thinkers on the edge of their seats waiting to finally reach a logical answer to morals, natural law and the like. It was the pinnacle in history where the world was turned inside out. It has affected theology, astronomy and psychology. It has explained the patterns or human behavior. It has given the world perspective on issues never thought of before.

So, in answer to the question, philosophy does have a point and it can make your heart race. It all depends on how its viewed, and what you decide to do with it.

*Just as a sidenote, I find inspiration for my blog everywhere. All quotes, pictures, discussions, etc. are fair game. In saying that, I want to thank my best friend for this blog. Without his away message, this post wouldn’t exist.

Relearning

This may seem a little bit conceited, but I hate repetition. I dislike it when someone keeps going on and on about the same thing, or even worse, they keep saying the same thing more than once in rapid succession. However, not only is there repetition is speech, but there’s repetition in life lessons. 

That’s the worst. You don’t learn the first time, so you have to go through almost the same situation again. Or you have to go through an even more painful one just to get the hint. Its funny, you know. I don’t think that we, as humans, remain oblivious to the lessons we’re supposed to know. Rather, we ignore them. 

Now, you ask, why do we ignore the lessons we’re supposed to learn, especially the painful ones? I think its the fact that we think its more painful to let go of the thing we’re supposed to when, in actual fact, its more painful to go through it twice. We think that we can hang on to what’s supposed to be gone from our lives in hopes that we can end up keeping it and live a “happily ever after” versus just getting rid of what’s, in reality, a thorn in our side. Is it painful to take out? Most of the time, it is. But its so worth the freedom that comes after that “thorn” is finally pulled out. 

I ask you: Would you rather learn the first time or go through the same thing multiple times for multiple the heartache?