I LOVE My Job!

This has been an interesting 7 days.

So last year (end of summer) I seriously contemplated quitting my job. It was really a combination of things, mostly stress over being sick and trying to hide it. Few people really know how hard last year was on me. I really can't begin to explain how hard my second treatment was on me. My mom is one of the few who really knows. She would often plead with me, "Hija, por favor. No vayas al trabajo, no te ves bien," (Daughter, please. Don't go to work, you don't look well). But I wouldn't listen and I would just go to work. But as soon as I got home I would go straight to bed because I was so exhausted from the day and from trying to act like I was ok when in fact, I wasn't feeling well. It was stupid really. But I felt like I needed the job and I had to go and try my best. For the most part it worked. However, I was sent home a few times when it was obvious I was not ok. The relief at being sent home once was so great I literally broke into tears; I was so happy I could go home and just rest. Like I said, it was stupid what I put myself through. At the time I just felt like I had no choice, I didn't want to lose my job.

By the end of the summer I just couldn't take it anymore. I was ready to just quit. Fuck it. Was my peace of mind worth more than extra money in my pocket? I wasn't sure. But it was just so exhausting. So I seriously weighed my options:

• I could quit, go back on disability, and use my disability to pay for COBRA. Con: Cobra ends after a year and eventually I'd have to find a new job. Also, the way disability works, I could end up with no money since they base it on what you earned months before going on disability. Months before going on disability I didn't work because I was on disability (if you can understand that).
  
• I could take a medical leave of absence (like I did at Bloomingdale's), go back on disability, pay my half of my medical premium, and eventually return to my old position. Con: Same as above regarding disability. Also, I felt guilty about leaving when they were short staffed and needed everyone there.
  
• I could go part-time and still get a paycheck. Con: No benefits and less money in my pocket.
  

I seriously thought about it for about a month before I decided to just grin and bear it for as long as possible. I want to clarify that it was while I was on my second treatment that things headed downhill. Well, actually, my first treatment ended badly since I ended up in the hospital. So I started the second treatment but the side effects were too much for me. I was always tired, needed blood transfusions, stopped eating (I lost 20 pounds), TMI had problems going to the restroom..... Seriously a laundry list of problems. But I tried to act like everything was ok. That was my problem. Trying to fake it. It became really stressful. But I decided I would try to take it as long as I could. Mind you, I had good days, I did. But the bad days outweighed the good.

When I finally went off the second treatment, I was so relieved. This new treatment plan has given me my life back. The quality of my life has improved.

So basically I'm happy I stuck it out because I am much better now and I have the energy I need to be 100% dedicated to my job.

Now I am beginning to realize even more how smart this decision was. Every time I hear stories about people being laid off and people not being able to find jobs, I thank my lucky stars that I still have a job to go to. Sometimes I whine and complain but today I really realized that I was one of the lucky ones that still has her job. So from now on I'm just going to shut up and do the best I can.

Today I thought about all the people I know who have been laid off or can't find a job and that's what prompted this change of heart. It's not that I don't like my job, I do. I really really enjoy what I do. Seriously, all joking, BS, and sarcasm aside I really do enjoy what I do. It's no secret I love the fashion world. But of course like any normal person I've complained about my job. My workload is too much, sometimes I fight with my co-workers, sometimes I hate my managers, etc. etc. The normal work complaints most people have. But today I've decided no more. From now on I will put in 200%. No more complaining and whining.

The truth is that the extra money in my pocket has been a blessing. There are just so many things I would not have been able to do had I not had the money. So at this point, I can't afford to lose my job.

I used to say, I don't need money to be happy. I now realize, I don't NEED it, but it sure does make life a lot easier.

On another note, I am helping to finance a mini home remodel of my mom's house. Hence the importance of having extra money lying around. Have you ever seen The Money Pit? Well, our experience has not strayed too far from the couple's in the movie. We've already gone over the budget, over the timeline, and more than one person has lost their temper. It didn't help that Clay and I started out with a very ambitious plan that I realize now was unrealistic. A lot shit has gone wrong that we didn't anticipate.

Clay and I used to brag that we had become the perfect couple. We rarely argued anymore. We hadn't had a fight in over a year. We hadn't had a serious fight in almost 2 years. Well, this little project caused a major fight. I understand now how stressful home remodels can be on a relationship. But don't worry we are happy again. But this is definitely becoming quite the learning experience. WARNING: It is not easy people! Definitely not easy! And that's considering I'm not the one doing most of the work. I'm just providing the cash. But this ATM is starting to run out of cash. So hopefully we will get done what we need to get done before I go broke trying to finish it.

We started this weekend: Clay, my brothers Eduardo and Sergio, my mom, and I. However, like I said, we hoped we would have finished a bathroom and one bedroom by Sunday night but it didn't happen. And now everyone has returned to their regular jobs except for Sergio so he is the only one that has continued the work. But again, the unexpected shit has slowed the project down. I can't even tell you how many times we've had to go to the hardware store (6 just Saturday and Sunday, and Sergio I think has gone at least 4 times). At first I was spending wily nily but no more. I'm starting to bleed money. So unfortunately the job of finishing the 2 rooms as quickly as possible has fallen to Sergio. I'm crossing my fingers that it is soon. Clay and I will return tomorrow night to help.

The worst part is that we still have major work to do in at least one more bedroom and little work to do in 3 more rooms (living room, bathroom, and bedroom). Ay ya yay................

Maybe I should put up a website where I can accept donations to the Maria Morales Home Remodel Fund.........

But anyways, job insecurity.......... It's really tough. I think back to when Bush was in office and trying to convince the nation that we were not entering a recession. Now look at us............ I feel like even if it takes years before the economy gets back on it's feet, I am glad that we have Obama to see us through. The light in the darkness. I hope that my family, Clay, and I will weather the storm and come out ok........

2X In 1 Week!

Last week I was at the hospital getting chemotherapy and I wrote this down:

2/12/09

It's funny, the simple joys you look forward to. When I come to chemo I look forward to the orange tangerine juice boxes and Oreos. I don't have them at any other time, but I look forward to them here.

The orange juice boxes are not amazing and I could always just buy packets of Oreos and keep them at home. But I don't. It's just not the same. This is part of my chemo ritual and it wouldn't fit anywhere else.

So, in April Diego and I are going to visit Fatima in Seattle. I promised her I would go visit her within the first 3 months of the year so I'm pretty close. It's Diego's Spring Break so we'll be going for a week. The only thing that sucks is that I'll be in the middle of my treatment so no cheese while I'm there..........

Then in May Clay and I are going to San Francisco for his sister's law school graduation. This will only be a weekend trip but still, something to look forward to.

Then at some point I want to visit Adri in Texas after she has her baby.

These are my upcoming trips.

Clay and I have started a little project...... which of course is not exactly moving full speed ahead but is gradually chugging along. We are writing........ together........ the story of our love........ lol :) Yes, I'm not joking here! It's a work in progress, our work in progress. Pretty much we just want to write down how we met, what we've been through together. You would think that it would be easy to write. But I've been dragging my heels....... Mostly because I guess I'm just scared about writing "the truth" down. Well, maybe not scared, but I guess like when I started this blog, I worry about who will read it. Clay and I take turns writing down, kind of like his perspective, my perspective. It's funny sometimes. But then we'll get to a particular topic and I get like, "I don't want to write about that!" on him. It's like, do I want my mom reading about the first time we had u know what? Yet, how authentic can it be unless you write down the entire truth?

So sometimes he kids that we'll write it and then lock it up in a safe until our grandchildren find it one day when we're dead. And then they'll read about how their grandparents met and fell in love............. Like I said, it's slow going but then again......... the story of our love still has many chapters to go............ Yes I know, lots of sugar, lol.

I saw Phantom of the Opera at the Pantages Theatre this last Friday and it was AMAZING! Now I've seen it in NY, Las Vegas, and LA. Yes I'm that girl who cries during the show too. It's just amazing. So the last several days I've just been walking around humming the music.

On another note, I just finished watching Towelhead and I have to say........ It was definitely difficult to watch. I think what made it hard to watch was realizing that stuff like that really happens. Clay and I used to watch To Catch a Predator and this reminded me of that. But what really struck me was the naivete of the girl in the movie. It's like, I was angry at her but then I felt bad for her. How could she possibly know any better? So it made me think of all the girls just like her and I felt bad for them.

Sometimes, when I'm at the peak of my treatment (the steroids make me hyper), I wish that my life was like a movie, where I can see the conclusion after 2 hours. I make these plans that I know will take some time to complete but I'm impatient and I want to see the results now. Now now NOW! But I have to be patient.

So I forgot to mention octoplets mom had her babies at my hospital, Kaiser Permanente Bellflower Medical Center. I didn't even find out until a week after they'd been born! My mom was like, "Didn't you notice the news vans?" Obviously not. All this time they've just been there while I've been chilling in the oncology clinic........ It's crazy how strongly people have reacted to her story. I've been somewhat obsessed with this news, along with the whole Chris Brown beating Rhianna thing.

Octomom is unemployed, hoping to finish grad school, receiving government assistance, single, and already has 6 other young children (one of which is autistic).......... What was she thinking? What was her doctor thinking? I don't blame the people who go off on this subject. They have a point, even though it's "mean" to call her names. What kind of life can these kids have really?

And Chris Brown beating Rhianna? I can't even imagine being in her situation, having something like this happen and then have it reported all over the media. When I read people saying, "Oh, no one knows the whole story" I'm just kind of like, does it matter? BEATING A WOMAN IS NEVER OK.

Well that's all for now.

Was I Poor?

Clay and I always talk about perspective. Perspective and relativity. How someone can size up the problems in their life based on what they have been exposed to. Here is my story (which everyone who knows me already knows):

When I came to the US, I was 4 years old. It was 1984. We moved into a single apartment (separate kitchen and bathroom, one room was both living room & bedroom, walk-in closet) near downtown LA. And by we I mean my mom, my dad, my sister Fatima, my brother Eduardo, my 3 uncles, and I. Yes, 8 people in a single apartment. Of course at the time, it didn't seem weird or unusual, that's just how it was. We had a bunk bed that Eduardo and I slept on, a fold out couch my parents and Fatima slept on, and my uncles slept on the floor and in the closet. From 1984-1990 we would live in 5 different apartments until my parents finally bought a house in Watts.

Now, Watts is what you might call the ghetto. Again, growing up, it didn't sink into my consciousness that I lived in the ghetto. Projects, gang violence, food stamps, drug dealers. Yes all of these things were present in my neighborhood, but for me that didn't seem out of the ordinary because that's just how life was as I knew it. And not just me for me but for everyone around me; our family, our neighbors, our friends. We all walked by the same projects, we all heard about someone getting shot, we all worried about getting jacked on the way home from school, we all complained about the long lines in the grocery store on the first of the month. We weren't the only family that shopped at thrift stores, swapmeets, wore hand me downs, only got a new pair of shoes once a year, only had one uniform for the entire year (sometimes 2-3 years, we had to outgrow it before we got a new one, and I mean ONE). We didn't go to Toys R Us or shop at the mall. But neither did anyone else. Or at least no one I knew.

It wasn't until I got to high school and some of the other students joked about where I lived that it first started to sink in that maybe I didn't live in the best neighborhood. Mind you, up until high school I had gone to my local Catholic school. When I graduated from 8th grade my mom refused to send me to any of the local public high schools and said she would rather I not go to school than to end up at any of the local schools where she was sure I would wind up pregnant or in a gang or worse. So to make a long story short I found a small magnate school in South Central Los Angeles and that's where the other kids made jokes about my bus not stopping at the bus stop and me having to tuck and roll out of the bus dodging bullets. And this was from the kids who grew up in SOUTH CENTRAL.

Mind you, yes I knew there were better neighborhoods, as in rich neighborhoods. So I figured you either lived in something similar to my neighborhood or you were rich, no in-betweens. So even those in the suburbs were rich to me.

So anyways, back to me realizing maybe I grew up poor. High school made me realize that there were still levels of bad neighborhoods, with mine being towards the bottom. Again, to make a long story short, I threw myself into being a good student (which I realize is the only way to getting out if of my strict household) and eventually ended up at Cornell University, which I didn't even know existed or even understood what an Ivy Leauge was until I applied (when they sent me a free brochure and I thought, NY sounds far away to me!).

So I got to Cornell and the jokes started all over again. Ghetto Maria. Maria from Watts. You can take the child out the hood but you can't take the hood out the child. Mostly I think it was my stories of the 8 people in the single apartment, the bad English grammer sometimes, the green card (the majority of my friends had been born in the US), the tales of me swimming in a trash can (one summer my dad once took one of the green trash bins, cleaned it out, filled it with water, and let us splash around it in), playing street in our backyard, using leaves as money when we played store, using the junk cars in the backyard to reenact movie scenes. Less toys, more imagination.

I will admit though, fear was ever present. Before we got metal bars on our windows (when we had just moved in), I used to sleep with a metal bat by the bed in case someone tried to break into our house through the window (my bed was by the window). It was silly; what would I have done with the bat really? I was a kid, like 10-11 years old. But the bat made me feel safer, like I could protect myself. I stopped worrying about it once we got the bars, or at least I stopped worrying about someone breaking in through the window. I would wake up in the middle of the night and sneak around the house, hiding, double checking the doors and the windows to make sure they were locked. When I heard strange noises at night I remember being deathly afraid that someone had broken in. It wasn't until I got to college that I lost that fear. The feeling of being unsafe in your own home. Ithaca was so safe, so secure. Students walked around freely at night. So safe.

Anways, to continue, all my life I've defended my childhood. That's just the way it was. It was a happy one for the most part. I was aware we didn't have alot of money, that the lack of money was somewhat a big problem and caused many an argument between my parents, but we also still went to a Catholic school, we always had food to eat (I don't remember ever thinking we only had a little bit of food), we were never on welfare. We still went to Shakey's every now and then. We still had a Nintendo. So how could I have grown up poor?

But then I talk to Clay about how he grew up and of course the difference is great. According to him I did grow up poor and it amazes him sometimes that I don't think so. But it's relative to me. I saw people who were also worse off. People all over the world are worse off. I was not poor in comparison.

So I kind of relate this back to my life with cancer. Sometimes people tell me they admire me, that if they were in my situation they wouldn't know how to handle it. But the thing is, my life for the last 2 1/2 years has been with cancer so that's just how it is now. So all the little problems that come with living with cancer seem just that, little. Because I deal with them day in and day out they don't seem out of the ordinary. My life doesn't suck now, it is not worse, it just is. In fact, I feel like I have a happy life. My life now, even with cancer, is better than what it was a few years ago. Yes I worry about my health, yes I would rather not have cancer, but cancer has not ruined my life. I am a stronger person because I've overcome the obstacles that cancer has brought.

Sometimes I try to imagine how different my life would have been if I had not gotten cancer and I honestly don't know if it would have been better. I really don't. I look at what I have now, the kind of person I am now, the things that make me so happy now. But like the, "Was I poor?" conversation, maybe someone else wouldn't think my life was so great.

But I don't care. I wasn't poor and my life doesn't suck. It's not perfect but that's ok. I'm still happy.