Dedicated to my People in the StruggleI need a book deal. thanx. Copyright M. Velez. |
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So I'm applying to grad school and was blessed with the broad topic of "write a personal statement". Except, I feel like when something is sooo open, I tend to ramble (much like in my blogs). I come to you for some constructive criticism, tell me what you think.
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"Gracias por cambiarnos la vida Sra. Vélez!" shrieks a little dumpling of a mother, who rushes toward me with a bear hug at my waist due to her small size. It's a crisp summer day; you can smell the Angus on the grill and hear children running around this majestic private school campus. As my babies (all 105 of them) are making their way to the podium for their graduation diplomas, I look back on their last year with fond memories. I'm standing in the back of the auditorium, proud of all their accomplishments and thinking about where they will end up. That is up until this extremely proud mother tracks me down to thank me for changing her child's life. If someone asked me two years ago what I was going to do out of college, I definitely would not have answered, "Creating hope."
I work for a nonprofit organization called NJ SEEDS (Scholars, Educators, Excellence, Dedication and Success). We place financially limited students, who are academically gifted, into private day and boarding schools. When I first graduated from college, my dream was to work for a top magazine in NY. As they say everything happens for a reason, because 27 interviews and one career fair later- I found myself awaiting my interview at NJ SEEDS. There was a Gandhi quote above a mahogany desk (which ironically would become mine) that read, "You must be the change you want to see in the world." At that moment, I knew that this job was meant for me. With this career change, I have been able to give educational opportunities to families, create a new goal for my future and more importantly be that change.
After two years, 600 students, 3,000 applications and 2,400 school presentations to students all over NJ, I have become the admissions coordinator at NJ SEEDS. My friends and family always say that I'm a complete workaholic, banking 70 hour work weeks, endless phone calls at 11 o'clock on Sunday nights and all with a miniscule paycheck. As crazy as this may sound, I completely love my job. I remember being one of these kids; the first one to go to college, the only one that spoke English and having to be my own advocate at all times. I went to a high school where 585 students graduated by my side, and since I wasn't pregnant or on drugs, each semester my guidance counselor gave me a quick pat on the back as she yelled, "next" for someone that actually "needed" guidance to come in. I had to fill out all my applications and paperwork on my own. I messed up my financial aid papers for college because at seventeen I didn't know how to translate "gross annual income." For the following four years I had to stand for endless hours on line at the financial aid office pleading my case in order for me to be able to stay in school another semester.
Each year I find 105 scholars, just like I me- motivated, doing all their work, but not knowing how to make the education system work for them because of a lack of resources, lack of support or just lack of knowledge. Then after a year of free academic enrichment, support and frank guidance they go off to these $40,000 a year institutions like Exeter, Choate, and Lawrenceville, where they will never have to worry about gang fights in the lunch rooms, sharing microscopes in science labs, nor more importantly doubting if they will be able to go to college.
I find myself pursuing another degree not just because education has become my way of life, but because I want to continue to be that positive role model for these kids. I never thought that Hispanics were at a loss in education until I got to college and found myself to be one of three Hispanics in my entire building! My academic career was fostered in Hudson County where it is nearly 90% Hispanic. My closest friends are all college graduates- educators, investors, lawyers, physician assistants and Hispanic. Yet a study done by the Public Policy of California noted that only "13% of Hispanics possess a Bachelor's degree, compared to a 62% in Asians Americans." Even after personally proving that statistic wrong, I never thought it would be necessary for me to go back to back to school. Then early this fall one of my students wrote in an essay, "Being Hispanic I know I will amount to nothing, because there are not many Hispanic professionals, aside from a few artists and comedians." Hurt, dumbfounded and angry, I once again remembered Gandhi's quote. No longer was it relevant just to my profession, but also to furthering my education in order to lead by example for my students.
Furthering my education will also help me with my aspirations of starting my own nonprofit. This is the final loop in my professional career in order to help public school students (mainly minorities) with guidance to college. I know of many elementary school acquaintances that showed so much potential and for one reason or another opted for an alternate path to college. I know that it takes much more then good grades and a careful resume of activities to be successful in college. Thankfully through my education and professional background I can now offer that knowledge to students and their families so that they can accomplish that dream of becoming the first person to graduate from college in their family. With my career I have been able to give back to my community, create educational opportunities, and find a new way to help others. I know by pursuing a Master's I will be more prepared for other obstacles that will come my way and be armed with knowledge on how to handle them. In case this nonprofit idea does not work out, then I can always get into politics going with what Mark Twain said as a platform: "Why don't they pass a constitutional amendment prohibiting anybody from learning anything? If it works as well as prohibition did, in five years Americans would be the smartest race of people on Earth." Vote Marlyn Velez for 2012!
Chapter 59- Be ThankfulPosted
"Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough." ~ Marion Wright Eldeman
"He used to touch me and my sister," she whispers, looking down across from me in a secluded study section of the library. I'm sitting across a 13 year old girl who is telling me she has been sexually abused by her father. I don't know what to do. She is one of 105 kids in my program that I'm supposed to support, console, and encourage. Except that as the story continues to unravel, I just become more and more upset and feel completely useless to her. I'm supposed to be the adult. I'm supposed to have answers and solutions. Her eyes are expectantly screaming, "So what do I do?"
Dumbfounded that she chose me to confess this to I'm holding back tears- tears that I'm known not to shed, tears that would never be seen in public, yet here they are pushing out of the corners of my eyes. Her private battle has been going on for five silent years. She is a normal teenager, with too much eye makeup, a huge smile and dreams. For months I've known her, spoken to her, spoken to the man that was causing her this present pain and was completely unaware. Now that her story is out, dyfus has taken over her home, pulled her out of school and basically destroyed her life. "Isn't it their job to keep families together; then why is it that mostly all the families that go to them end up torn apart?" she cries out. The most painful part of the story is what she shared next.
Her mom, who for 9 months carried her within, whose genetic code is half hers, who is a female herself- does not believe her. I may not have bore a child yet, but I know that if my daughter ever came up to me and said that her father/brother/priest/whatever douche bag was touching her, I would take her word over anybody else's. Needless to say, at the end of our heart wrenching conversation, we still had no solution.
I share this story with you not for an answer. Sadly this is a tale that happens far too often, to too many girls (1 out of every 4 girls is sexually abused before the age of 18 in the US- darkness2light.org). I know that nothing I could say to her would make her stop believing that it was her fault, that she would get better, or that eventually this would go away- because the truth of the matter is that it may not. I share this story to bring you light onto your life.
Thankfully I have never been sexually abused. I can't imagine having to live in a home, with the man that is supposed to be protecting me and who instead is destroying me. I found myself in church on Sunday, which ironically is a place I usually attend when everything is going wrong. But this Sunday I prayed for with gratitude, for my parents giving me a happy childhood, for never having to worry about my dad looking at me or my friends the wrong way, for my mom teaching me to speak up and for my life being so blessed. I hope that this week you will not only be thankful for having ample food on the table, a job and good health, but also be thankful for all the goodness that others have worked hard to create for you. With a bit of luck you too can find someone or something to be thankful for. Maybe you should give them a call and let them know? It could just bring some much needed sunshine to a rather lonely life
Chapter 58- Single-nessPosted
“You sound like you have it together. So why are you single?” he asks. I look around, nervously laugh, and finally respond a lame, “I really don’t know.” After meeting and greeting a wide array of people, I find myself feeling quite inadequate despite the fact that I know I’m an amazing person. Yet at 25, puppy-less, childless and mate-less, it becomes a far more common question attached with a negative connotation. So after doubting myself, having to answer this question an endless amount of times, I will clearly state why I’m single.
Why I’m single:
I’m single because…I’m outspoken, loud, and opinionative. I will also not hesitate to cut off if your point is not strong enough (ask my sister). Plus there’s always the fear of your foolishness becoming a blog.
I’m single because…I like to dance on tables, drink vodka, shoot tequila and I don’t mind having my hair frizzing as I’m swaying toward the middle of the dance floor.
I’m single because…I won’t settle for mediocre work, love, sex or ignorance. If I’m bored I’ll tell you, because I don’t want to waste your time, and perfection is something I always strive for.
I’m single because…I don’t feel the need to publish my homemaker skills. The truth is I can only make rice from scratch and I make the best damn pesto chicken empanadas you will ever have.
I’m single because…I tend to pursue unavailable men and I confuse the infatuation of the challenge with something more. Sometimes you just have to acknowledge a good thing and keep it moving.
I’m single because…I refuse to be anyone’s ‘evil stepmother’. In my fairytale I’m the only princess, so I can’t be with a man that already has one (or a prince- for that matter).
I’m single because…I have a demanding job, that I willhave to cancel/reschedule/be late to dates, that I will pick up call for at 9 pm on Sunday night and that has brought me an incomprehensible amount of joy, so yes it takes priority.
I’m single because…What my family thinks matters to me. So even if you can look at your mom in the eye and lie to her about what you really do, I prefer not to lie to mine.
I’m single because…I prefer to sweat, strive and struggle then admit I need help or I can’t handle it. And sadly some men have a problem having a strong (stubborn) woman by their side.
Finally I’m single because Mr. Wonderful/ loves kids/ doesn’t mind me keeping my last name/ gives my parents ‘hello’ hugs/ helps my sister with her homework/ and deals with all my possessive/demanding/jealous quirks---is too busy saving the other side of the world, so we just haven’t had a chance to get together for drinks yet.
This post is Private.
Chapter 56- mom vs. daughterPosted
Mother to her teenage daughter: "I think this is the right time we should talk about sex sweetie."
Daughter (Excitingly): Sure mom! Now tell me, what do you want to know?
Mother Faints…
I'm sure everyone thinks that their family needs their own TV show from time to time. But if you lived with me, you could see how desperately America needs to be a part of the Velez household, we are truly a one of a kind bunch.
"Entonces, I'm guessing everything went by okay since you made it back home in one piece," I tell my mom as she starts making dinner for my sister Padeleine and me. My parents are planning a trip to China for the next four weeks and she had to run some errands in the Chinese embassy earlier today. Although this may not seem like a large feat to anyone that resides in the metropolitan area, if you knew Rora Velez, you would know why it is. My mom does not drive on major highways (ever), she doesn't know where to take public transportation (and therefore hates it since it is the unknown), and oh yea, she still thinks it's 1953 (I’m kidding, I got her up to 1985). Unfortunately for her, she has me as a daughter, and although I try as much as I can to involve her in the new era and help ease her of transportation woes by driving her everywhere, she had to do it alone today.
She took the bus to New York's Port Authority and then trekked ten blocks to the Chinese embassy to pick up her visas. The problem now was getting her back into New Jersey. "No se, I was so lost in that bus terminal and walked around for about half an hour before I found where I was supposed to be! Entonces, I saw this sign. It said I had to buy the ticket to the bus before I got on!" She's telling me about her exciting trip, and by the smile on her face I knew that it had to end in good news. So I keep on listening to the dragging details as I sip my hot sancocho and nod.
"No sabia que hacer! I mean, now how was I supposed to go find somewhere that sold these tickets and then find this entrance again? But then I saw this man sitting there reading his book, with a case for the computer-like that big one you carry Marlyn- and a nice suit, so I decided to ask him because he looked very professional," she says, as if suits and computer cases are the new entrance into sainthood.
"He was so nice Marlyn! I told him if he knew where I could go buy the tickets and then he said that he could do even better and show me. So we went downstairs and he showed me how to get my ticket," she looked like she was telling me about a first date or something, because she was so excited. So I dramatically put down my spoon full of platanos and listened much more intently.
"Anyways, so we passed by this coffee shop and he asked me if I wanted some coffee, but of course I couldn't, so instead we started walking .."and she guiltily looks up as she says this line, so I decide to be completely evil and run with it. You see, my mom is 49 years old, a little meatball of a woman, with a face that scares even the sweetest child, so her getting hit on is definitely a rarity (unless your a butcher- for some odd reason every butcher in town thinks she hot; I think it's because she just spends a lot of time in the super market so they assume she's a good cook).
"Come que, que?? He asked you for coffee mom? Guys don't ask random women out to coffee for nothing," I blurt out with a hand on my hip and a swivel in my neck. "Marlyn, no sea boba! Of course he was just being nice; he probably noticed how I smelled the coffee. You know how I love freshly brewed coffee, so I probably looked thirsty," now she's getting flustered and is now just avoiding eye contact with me all together! Oh my gosh, look at my mom the pimp! As I begin to laugh and realize that all along I don't get all my people skills only from my dad, my sister comes home from school. I quickly fill her in on my mom's story. As soon as I get to the coffee part, she can't even hold in her amusement and goes off on my mom too.
"Ma! Our poor father is out working the night shift, breaking his back for this family and you're out in NY flirting with this random man? Que cosa??" she smirks and does a semi eye roll, followed by some seriously theatrical lip pressing.
"Mira Padeleine, no one is flirting with anyone! The man was just very nice and helped me out, naturally we took the bus together and he even offered to walk me home. He was such a…"and before she can keep promoting this overly gracious stranger, my sister cuts her off.
"He asked to walk you home??? Ma, that's it, I'm telling dad. This can't go on!" she's bursting at the seams with laughter and pulls out her cell phone threatening to dial my father’s number. She even fake dials and puts her phone right up to her ear, when suddenly my mom comes out of nowhere and gets up right in her face.
Very firmly and coolly she nearly whispers, "You want to call your father, fine. Just remember, if you tell your dad about this, I'll tell him about your little black boyfriend." She finishes up her statement with the slickest smile and a "go ahead you little bitch" spritz in the air.
My sister looks over at me for a hint of guilt or backstabbing on her gossip.
"Nope, I haven’t said a thing," I reply to the silent question.
"No soy estupida Padeleine! I know it's that black boy you talk to until two a.m. everyday," by this time, my sister has put down her fake phone call to my dad and is literally wide eyed and mouth open at my mom's overflow of information of my sister's "private" affair.
You see, black men are completely out of bounds in my household (Please refer to Chapter 5- La Familia- for some background).
"Well, no es negro ma! He's Dominican." She says, as if that was some type of consolation in our family unit.
"I don't care if he's black, Dominican or a dark Russian, they're all the same to your father," and with that she shuts her up. Baffled by the clear shut down, I of course I start hysterically laughing.
To summarize, today my mother- who was clearly flirting with another man in NY-threatened to out my sister-who's dating a dark Dominican- all as my dear father drove south on the NJ Turnpike to make his daily rounds. Just another typical day at the Velez household, gotta love the fam!
Chapter 53- 18.5Posted
Dench has rarely dated females his own age or younger. “I like the maturity and conversation you get with older women,” he says. “I don’t think there’s anything weird about it. It’s not that I wouldn’t date someone my age, it’s just that they can be pretty needy”. “I love the vitality of the older woman,” says Dench. “She doesn’t put on a dress and ask, ‘Does my bum look big in this?' The important thing is the quality of what you share together. Love is meant to conquer all, isn’t it?” ~The Sunday Times, "Women Who Date Younger Men", May 18, 2008. “I don’t understand why you don’t like him Marlyn? You date Yomas who is 30 and you are 24, so that’s a 7 year difference!” my sister Padeleine adamantly argues with me. “I don’t care, it’s different, we are both adults and have adult mentalities, this 19 year old man should be dating skanky college chicks, not young impressionable high school girls that will easily fall for the lures of his 1999 Honda civic and thickening facial hair!” I bark right back. This summer my sister wants to date a 19 year old, she is 16. This young man does not go to college, might possibly be unemployed and met her in a sweet 15 dance rehearsal. What can a 19 year old want with a 16 year old that is still in high school and still prepubescent? Aside from the clearly obvious cherry popping activity (oh did I mention that he’s also Colombian -because he is- and as a fellow Colombian, I know how scandalously dirty the men can get). Padeleine thinks that I should not be this judgmental, and that is okay for her to date him; especially since she dated an 18 year old when she was 15 (but to my defense, they were both attending the same high school at the time). As soon as I squashed her little heart of hope, another very similar situation arose in the deep seas.
As luck would have it we were on Carnival Cruise lines third largest ship, holding 3500 guest and 800 of them, were children (aka under the age of 13). Although it was still a fabulous ship, our expectations for shamefully anonymous hook ups were very limited. After dinner and shows, we would go to the “hot and cold disco” for some drinks and hopefully dancing. The DJ was so bad, that he would have been beat with a bottle of Patron and left for dead if he tried spinning in NY (or Jersey for that matter), but on the boat, we had no other choice but to listen to him and try to flirt our way into some song requests.
Night after night we met more and more entertaining people, ranging from a newly engaged Ohio couple, a swinging Tennessee couple, Rrrryannn (who believed anything and everything Tolga told him) to a possible cutie. After making several bets on his age, I decided to just ask him already. “Hey, so my girls and I have a bet going on here on your age. So how old are you?” I stutter out, after way too many shots of tequila during the adult comedy hour.
“How old do you want me to be?” he answers.
Aw, he’s so wanna-be smooth it’s disgusting, he has to be 18! There are other bets on the table that he could be 21 or 20, but I know I got this one in the bag.
“Listen, pumpkin, I just want to know how old you are. So??”
“I’m 21.” He says point blank.
“Great, so show me your ID,” I answer defiantly.
“Ok, ok, I’m 20,” he smiles coyly.
“ID?” I remind him.
“Well actually….” And five minutes later, I finally get to the point. He tells us the truth and that his birthday was in January, making him about 18.5. So that’s what his new name becomes, I love it! That night unfolds and so do many more, and we become pretty cool with 18.5. One of our more heavily librated nights, he becomes a play toy. As shocking as it was at first, buying him drinks (since he was underage), fleeing the dance floor hand in hand, and make out sessions in the open seas, it was also quite romantic. It made me think of that old saying, ‘age ain’t nothing but a number’.
I mean is it? When does it become acceptable for a 24 year old to become a cougar (although we all know that what happens on vacation- stays on vacation)? Or when is a high school girl out of bounds? Should it really just be instantaneous? If you feel good with the person at the moment, if everything seems to be going right, then who cares and just go with the flow!
I don’t know, maybe it’s this weird school barrier thing that causes an age gap for me. Almost as if every degree you obtain, you should also advance in dating range, and not look back. Much like in education- once I achieved my B.A. I quit Shoprite, and once I have my Masters I’ll kill off my boss and take his job (just kidding, but you get the picture). I guess at the time I was speaking to Padeleine it all seemed very clear cut and logical. Except now that I’m home and facing my own dating situation (yup, a 21 year old, who is a senior in college), I find myself contemplating the same questions. “Is he too young?” I mean, I’m 24, but when I think back three years ago, it really seems like a lifetime away (just read my blogs!)…
What do you think?
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