Tuesday, October 20, 2009


I had the worst job interview today.

The man I met with asked me a simple but insightful question, and before I could stop myself the words: "To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it" came out of my mouth. To be fair to myself --- I really hadn't. And rather than bullshit this obviously intelligent person with some marketing mumbo jumbo I gave him the truth.

Needless to say he was a little under-whelmed.

I don't blame him, it was not my finest (half) hour.

So I dragged the carcass of my ego 4 blocks to Shangri-la Mall and met up with some friends for dinner. And a pity party ensued. Well, a pity party for me and Jaims while Steve and Jill tried to give us constructive advice.

Jaime drove me home afterward and we sat in his car and decided to prolong the pity party a little. So we spoke about our respective personal existential angst which is mostly grounded on the same thesis: Coming to grips with who you are now, when it is so far from who you always thought you would be.

Now we both agree that in theory God should smote us both with lightning for being ungrateful bastards. We both live good lives. Very good lives. We are both aware that we are blessed.

But when we look at the lives we lead, we feel twinges of poignancy (see Jaims -- I can spell it even if I can't pronounce it) ---- realizing the compromises that we have made to help us get to where we are today.

Should we even dream that the compromises we make today will someday help us become even better than the people we always thought we would be?

I hope so.

I left my career to become a mother, always keeping in the back of my mind that it was always something I could go back to when Pilar gets a little older. When she doesn't need me to be around so much anymore. I always believed that even if I took a 5 year break -- I could always go back to work. Because I was good at what I did and I could be so again.

Today showed me that may be I am not as good as I always thought I was. May be I cannot leave being mother to have a career again.

Perhaps mother is my new career.

One I never thought I'd want to have.

This is my compromise.

Will it help me become better than the person I always thought I'd grow up to be?

I hope so.


When I finally crawled out of Jaime's car --- buoyed by the knowledge that a) I am not alone; b) there is hope; c) there is someone crazier than I am --- I found Pilar passed out on our bed still in her play-clothes and not in her jammies (obviously her Pappy had fallen asleep before she did). And as I tried to gently change her clothes she groggily opened her eyes. She asked me: "Are you going with me to school tomorrow?". I asked her: "Do you want me to go to school with you?".

She said: "I always want you to be with me. I miss you when you're not around."

Compromise is not a bad thing.