August 2005 Archives

Yet another weekend spent entirely at work.
Tiramisu, banana tarts, and chocolate pudding
cakes might call my attention but they are
hardly my calling.

I been through several bad hurricanes, the most memorable being Andrew, and they aren’t pretty. Andrew tore down most of Homestead, Florida and cost millions worth of damages. I remember walking outside, hours away from the destructive epicenter where it left the most damage, and saw trees uprooted lampposts scattered, cars upturned and the gloom faces of people who have just realized that happenstance has not favored them. It was an unforgetable sight that displaced many families.

The last thing Floridians needed was yet another hurricane. Katrina came and went on her path of destruction and left her mark on South Florida. I called my parents, who I have been avoiding as of late. I figured that if I avoided them, the question of necessity would not come up, saving me from feel-bad turndowns of assistance. My mom told me a few weeks ago that finances weren’t looking so great and that she and papi were working overtime hours to try and catch up on bills. It broke my heart when she told me that she would be willing to send a little of her extra income my way, if I were to need it. “No mami, I’ll be O.K.”, I replied. And so the days passed and I made sure not to call and be asked of burdens nor become one. Mother Nature naturally placed me between a rock and a hard place and I had no choice but to call and ease my worries that all was well.

Mami, picked up the phone in her usual cheery nature and quite naturally made me blush. “My son, how I miss you, how are you”, you answered immediately. I hesitated before unconvincingly answering, “Fine”. I was cut and dry and went right to business. “How’s the house, is everyone O.K?” I asked. She explained that we lost a big tree in the back of the house which could have fallen towards the house and result in a lot more costly damage, but instead it took out a wooden fence, which the neighbors agreed to split the cost of replacing. Both losses were bad because I love tress, they add property value, shade, and appeal and of course the fence costs money which they shouldn’t be spending. My middle brother suffered the biggest lost. A tree evidently fell on top of his foreign compact size car, blowing out all the widows, flattening the roof and rendering it useless. I feel so bad for their hardships and my prayers are with them. Thank goodness no one was hurt and that the house suffered no major damages. I almost feel bad for living so far from them at times. I wouldn’t know how to forgive myself if anything were to happen to any of them, whom I distanced my self from for all of these years.

Meanwhile, I fight my own battles on the home front. I have absolutely no idea how I will pay my rent in a few days. All I have is an ever dwindling amount of loose change and a stock load of tuna cans. I may soon start to grow gills due to eating so much damn of that damn stuff. But, it’s cheap and goes a long way. I am on super-frivolous mode. I try my best not to have on any extra electrical appliances or lights on. I hardly use the fan, A.C., T.V. or lights for that matter because they are going to cut my electricity at any moment. It is going to be all about cold showers and seven day votive candles after that. The only entertainment I have is the internet and that because I am somehow (on good days) able to log on to someone else’s wireless connection in the vicinity. I hope that they continue to pay their internet service provider bills or I’m shit out of luck.

I guess that everything is gloomy on my end of the world too. I have total faith that all will be well but I hope that it doesn’t have to be under a different roof. I love my home and the memories I have of it. But the winds are blowing and one never knows what they’ll bring.

I Guess that I have to ride out the storm to see what happens.

Just two more chapters and a bit more basking.

And then I find out that I will need
to be interviewed yet again.

Five interviews? Come on now, are they kidding? Wow! I think it is easier to take an unsupervised stroll at Fort Knox or decide to walk into the Pentagon’s mainframe room and surf internet porn sites on one of their computers. Do any of my readers work for the CIA? In the event that the answer to the previous question is yes. Please tell me that it was easier to join them then this agency. This is so darn nerve wrecking. I feel like a contestant in an American-Idol like contest slowly but surly work my way up the ladder of elimination.

To vote for me please send a text message to 1-888-Go-Yusef and enter code *001.

Interview Two 8-18-05

Relaxing at work with a kronenberg beer.

A friend of mine just got back from “Tennessee […] the buckle of the Southern bible belt” and wrote about his anti-Christian sermon while out there. I thoroughly enjoyed his piece and definitely sympathize with his word of “God” via mouth-of-man experience. The piece really hit home. I ended up writing a very long comment on his page and decided to share my response to him with you guys.

Below is a copied excerpt of his quick rundown of what was said:

“1) AIDS is the wrath of God sent down to punish homosexuals for their sinful ways.
2) The United States was once a God-fearing nation that stood against sins like homosexuality, but NOW the government supports homosexuality, which is why there are so many gays and lesbians coming out of the woodwork all of a sudden – and dying of AIDS every day.
3) The government supports homosexuals because homosexuals give money to politicians.
4) God created marriage in Adam and Eve as a perfect design of man and woman living together and having children. He did not create marriage for two people of the same sex to live together.”

My Response:

Travis,

I totally agree with you. God-fearing propaganda has always been at the hub of the Christian movement. They have reduced God, the most elevated of all sentinel begins, to the likeness of a grudge holding, unforgiving faulty human. I mean honestly forget George Bu’shit, Sad’a-man, Bin-la-la, etc. At the end of the day it would seem that the big G has the only monopoly on long lasting suffrage & torture of souls. I mean you’re either in his team, which oddly enough McChristians often refer to as, “his army”, or in line for eternal damnation. I know a lot of mean humans, who according to the mass produced man-edited word of “God”, are not perfect, and not one of them would ever desire the eternal torture and suffrage of anyone, maybe a black eye or quick death but that is about it. God is painted to be infallible, perfect, and all loving but we humans can not conceive notions of love that aren’t based on conditionality. Hence, we create him in “our” likeness, and choose to believe that he would create a perfect hell for those imperfect. What were those words that Mr. Protestant G.W.B. Oil Monger, Commander in Chief of the Neo-Crusaders used? I think it was, “You're either with us or against us”, sort of God’s conditional spin of purging followers, often referred to as sheep, from the independent thinkers/sinners, very McChristian God-like of him don’t you think?

Independent thinkers, liberals of sorts, have always been a thorn at the side of Christian society. We come up with all kinds of crazy notions, for example, the world being round, evolution, genetics, Blacks were humans and deserved rights, the earth spins around the sun, etc. etc. etc. Damn us! How foul of us to mess with “His” perfect plan. Had the Christians had their way, all would be well, as it should be, a centralized bible governing kingdom that has historically used words such a heathens, savages, niggers, fagots, witches, sinners, and enemy to take it upon themselves, like archangels to smite us with the word of God using whips, swords, AK47s and most dangerous of all, mass produced rhetoric.

Ultimately it would seem that only they have the key to truth, love and eternal happiness.

Imagine for a second placing that pastor in a time machine, dressed in his white-washed garbs, armed with his bible and placed before his African ancestors to speak the “truth” that the Christian has historically whipped out of so many cultures and mindsets into blood-let submission. How would both react? Who might fall to their knees and rethink God? Perhaps ask for forgiveness?

I see Christianity as an institution, which has throughout the ages plumaged, enslaved (both as servants and via profitable interests) everyone around them who varied in beliefs. They have minimized the love of the heavenly into the fear and spite of the mundane.

Do not misunderstand me I love religions, especially from an objective academic cultural context of identity. I understand that churches have had a tremendous positive affect in the areas of support and provision on a community level. However, at the core, most theologies have faltered in the overall message of LOVE and have propagated a process of indifference which none of their prophets would ever condone. And so it continues to be that we shun, separate, and kill one another in the name of a creator who has never taken it upon himself to destroy anything that had his essence, unequivocal compassion, unconditional tolerance and lastly, pure LOVE.

Love is Love, Love is Heavenly…

Below is a link to his blog:
http://www.travismontez.com/blog/

What ‘cha mean, ‘nother banana tart? DAMN IT!

It may seem uncompassionate and intolerant of me (Mr. "Pequenito-Cuban") but I will continue to delete all of your comments from my site. I am sorry if this will cause any form of distress for you but your newfound presence, lack of tact, apparent clueless ness, and seemingly misguided persistence, is uninvited, not cared for, pissing me off and most importantly not very reflective of your sound state of mind.

I thank you (sarcasm) for helping me lose my way today and making me make the difficult decision of putting up what is perhaps the second or third negative comment ever on my site. I blocked your screen name a year ago on AOL. Unluckily, you have now discovered my site and have presented yourself, in MY opinion, as quite the nuisance. You have that air of stalker-like quality which is resulting in my putting negative energy out into the universe, which I may promptly need to follow up with paper work in the form of a restraining order. When is enough, enough?

I think that you are addicted to the internet, your identity has become meshed with your online presented one and this is what is makes you, in every sense of the word, sad. You need to get the “F” off line and experience the world from somewhere other then behind a computer screen and pursue reciprocal friendships.

I know that this may sound mean but you need a freaking wake up call and there is no reason why I, should have any online personality make me so uptight. YET, you have succeeded.

I DO NOT CARE TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR MINUTE TO MINUTE ESPECIALLY POSTED ON MY SITE. I DON’T CARE OR WANT TO HEAR A RESPONSE TO THIS ENTRY. I DO NOT CARE TO RECEIVE AN EMA'IL FROM YOU OR FOR YOU TO EVER APPROCH ME TO TAKE THE TIME TO SAY, “HELLO, AREN”T YOU THAT GUY”, WHEREVER IT MAY BE. EXAMPLES ARE TRAIN STATIONS, ART SHOWINGS, OR ANYWHERE FOR THAT MATTER. WE ARE SIMPLY NOT COMPATIBLE ON ANY LEVEL, EXCEPT PERHAPS IN THE SPIRITUAL AND I WILL GIVE YOU MY SENCIERE APOLOGIES IF WE ARE EVER BUMP INTO ONE ANOTHER IN THAT REALM. BEING THAT WE ARE IN THE PHYSICAL, WHICH SEEMS TO HINDER YOUR ABILITY TO MAKE SOUND DESIONS, I REPEAT, LEAVE ME AND MY VICINITY (BOTH CYBER AND PHYSICAL) ALONE.

Just forget that I and this site exist. Please.

Well, thats the last of it...

I had the third of four interviews today for a position at a nonprofit organization that services the Latino community. I woke up at 9:30am, quite nervous about all of the things that I need to plan for the day before me and because the commute there takes about an hour and fifteen minutes. I was also very self conscious because of the cloths that I was planning to wear and that fact that recent worries have caused a pubescent-like outbreak of acne on most of my forehead and I really wanted to make a good impression. On top of that I felt a little intimidated by the other applicants because unlike me, I assume that they all have money for fresh haircuts, nice ties, shoes, etc. It did not help that I had the opportunity to see one of the other interviewees who looked a lot older then I (even though he only has 2 years on me) and always looks really sharp in his suits. I would have like to have worn one, but I have no suits that fit me because my arms and back have out grown most of my tops and my waist is a lot smaller. The last suit I tried on, I ripped down the back when I tried to tie my shoes and I was unable to lift my arms higher then about 6 or 7 inches. The worst part yet was that after my interview, I would have to go directly to work and sweat for nine hours, not to mention the pimples on my forehead made out to look like an early 20’s chump without the needed experience to qualify for the job title of Education and Outreach Director. After chasing my tail around for an hour, I armed myself with a fistful of quarters and headed out. I did not begin to reclaim calmness, until I was about thirty minuets away from the interview site. Despite all of my worries of arriving late, I actually got out of the train with 45min to spare and wondered how it was that I got here so quickly in comparison to my last few trips here.

The first of my interviews, on Tuesday, was completely in Spanish because the agency wanted to make sure that I was in fact proficient enough in Spanish to work in a professional bilingual setting. Considering that all of my formal education has been in this country, and that I have never had the need to use anything other then vernacular in my day to day dealings with the Hispanic community, I did very well. My second interview was easier even though it was with the Assistant Executive Director, primarily because it was a one-on-one and in my preferred language of expression.

When I arrived the other two applicants were already waiting for their turn before the firing squad. There was a very pretty girl who seemed perplexed and uninterested in looking anyone in the eye, as well as Mr. Sharp-Suits with his ever present smirk of confidence. I was especially nervous about today’s interview because it was a panel interview, consisting of about twelve individuals, all of which I would work with in some capacity and many of which would be supervised by the applicant who gets the position. I discouraged sweaty palms and fidgeting, by helping a really cute Dominican abuelita (grandma) in translating a stack of dog-eared rubber banded correspondence that she gingerly handed to me one letter at a time. She was a blessing for helping the otherwise eternal minutes pass by quickly and not allowing me to worry or doubt myself up to a minute before I was called in. She walked away thanking me, not knowing that it was I who was thankful of our chance encounter.

I was to be the last interview and I figured that since this was normally the staffs lunch time they would by now be hungry, restless and heaven forbid, irritable. I timed the other interviews to get a sense of how long the grueling process would perhaps take. The first girl was 23 min and the guy in the suit and hot tie, 19.

To make a long story short, I was in there 45 min and walked out feeling extremely proud of my self, not only because the extra 25min was perhaps a sign of well thought out thorough responses on my part, nor because I didn’t stutter or crack my voice in the face of the nerve wrecking situation but because I felt that I genuinely made a connection with the staff and felt that I would probably genuinely enjoy coming to work in such an environment on a day to day. One of the girls came out after I was done and said, “Off the record, you were really great in there.”

I walked out of there so happy that I hardly noticed the pain that my dress shoes caused my feet. I had an extra 5 dollars this morning that a friend blessed me with and walked over to a Grays Papaya like restaurant and had a two hotdog and drink lunch special that cost me just under three dollars. This being my first afforded lunch in about two weeks I was quite ecstatic at the bites and sips of fatty carb-licious hot dogs and sugary mango drink that were finding their way down my belly. I didn’t even worry about being down to three dollars for the rest of the day, two of which I knew were budgeted for my train ride back home.

The train ride to work was quite long and I saw the air conditioned time as a great opportunity to catch up on a few chapters of Harry Potter, a burning three pound reminder of a book that was beckoning me all morning long to read on. A musician walked in at the 125th street subway station with two congas and played beautifully for us. He was amazing and I felt as if he were communicating to us via his drums. I imagined my African ancestors bobbing their heads in a rhythmic unison of approval. Not many people gave him money and so I parted with one of my quarters as a thankful gesture and silent means of conveying that I too knew that things can get hard and that even a quarter can change one’s day.

Work was not thrilling, but much easier to deal with then these last few months. Primarily, because I stopped bussing tables and two people quit, meaning that I now will have more hours, I am now the new Assistant to the Pastry Chef and lastly, because dickhead chef hate-a-lot no longer works there. Best of all is that I get to eat at least one good meal there at no cost which is helpful beyond words during these frivolous times and when I am the desert man for the day, I get to request an extra meal towards the end of the night without any objections from the other chefs. I have also developed a tight friendship with the Pastry Chef, who looks out for me a lot. I not sure if she knows how much it means to me when she orders food and shares it with me just in time to settle my growling stomach for a few hours, never knowing that that is all I will probably be able to eat for another 15 hours on difficult days. She’s the bomb and I know that the universe will pay her back in kind.

I left work super-duper happy because I made an extra $5.00 in tips and regained my earlier given away quarter in an instantaneous karmatic twenty fold. The only bad thing about it was that the automated Metrocard vending machine that night was not excepting dollar bills and in the process of asking New Yorkers for a dollars worth of change which, if I may add, is not an easy thing to do primarily because most people don’t even want to acknowledge you and would rather pass you by and pretend that you were talking to someone else in that otherwise empty city street block. After a trial and error period of about fifteen minutes, I found my needed quarters and began my hour long ride home, with Harry and magical friends, where I would enjoy a few hours to my self before my thirteen hour long work day begins tomorrow. But hey, I am 5 dollars richer, full in the belly, got home safe, got a small assortment of chores out of the way and even found time to write.

Not bad at all.