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Something other than Kavanaugh

This week marks 17 years since my parents died, and it’s still hard, ya know? I am always looking to cling to any sign of them. Anything at all that reminds of them. And I am always on a quest to make myself better, and be the daughter that they could be proud of. Because I believe, up until now, I have failed miserably at that.

That’s why I often, during this week, start digging through things from my past. To make me feel closer to them. To look for signs that they are trying to tell me something. Especially, right now, as I am in this very, long, drawn out turning point in my life. In pursuit of a writing career that I believe it is my destiny.

And so, I think it’s funny that I found this journal entry that I wrote in September of 2007:

“So the other day I was running an errand for work and I passed the Post Office down by 33rd St... Well anywho, I thought of my mom and dad. They worked at the Post Office all their lives. In fact, that's how they met. They had a Post Office party when then lived in Los Angeles. Well when my mom was cleaning up, she found my dad drunk in a closet. That cracks me up!

Sidetracked… so I was saying...I stopped and stared at the Post Office… pissing the people behind me off… and I thought so many things. I thought about how they went to that job every day to secure the lives of their children. That's why they did it. They wanted to provide for me...for my three older brothers. My mother often spoke of her dreams of working for the UN as an interpreter. She also wanted to go into the military but she was too short at 4'10". They worked at this unglamorous job, every day, for over 30 years. My father worked days and my mother worked nights, so that us kids were never left alone. My mother went to anything that was at school during the day, despite the fact that she had worked the night before. They were selfless... I know I have said that so many times. Furthermore, they had the ability to make their jobs fun. They were Union leaders and had so many friends. My mother returned letters to kids who had wrote to Santa Claus in her downtime over the holidays. But as I stood and stared at that Post Office, I thought... I can't do it. I can't do a job that makes me unhappy. And not that their job made them unhappy, but I know that they weren't the happiest they could wise. I mean personally, they had me for a daughter, so you can't get better than that. [insert laugh]. So I vow to myself that I won't be unhappy at job...I mean I can temp for a week or two at a desk or what not. But that's not where my life is headed permanently. I suppose that is why my mother and father always told me I can do anything I want to do with my life. So any accomplishment is dedicated to them... A 1 bestseller, SNL, a one woman show, a talk show, an investment banker, lawyer, doctor, a UN interpreter… who knows...all I do know is that I will love every minute of it.”

Kinda, funny huh? Maybe it was just 25 year-old me being dumb and vaguely optimistic. Or maybe I was meant to find it as a reminder. To do what I love. So here I am. Writing a blog that no one reads.

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