Category: Thought of the Day

Hey all.

I haven’t written in some time because, well, I wasn’t really all that sure on what to say, or how to say it all.

I originally wanted to write a small piece on 2020 being a “New Year, New Me” – talking about how I had gotten a new job (one that was actually making me feel better about myself for a change), looking into moving down to the Portland area, and really being more positive in life. I felt like I was actually moving forward in my personal timeline. I didn’t feel stuck or stagnant anymore.

2020 was actually starting to feel like ‘my year’.

But then the virus started to spread.

At first, I wasn’t worrying too much about it. Sure, people weren’t following social distancing guidelines as well as they should have at first, and of course I was worried about my mom working so close as she was with people, but I felt if we all were to band together (metaphorically speaking) and really try our hardest, this virus wouldn’t spread any further than it already has. We could’ve had the possibility of returning back to normal.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Yesterday, I found out I was being laid off. Effective immediately.

I wasn’t the only one. I know at least one other person had been laid off as well. But that’s not the point right now. The point is, I believed I was an essential worker. And in a sense, I was. Health insurance companies need receptionists in the office in order to keep things moving smoothly for everyone else.

Only problem is, when the company’s clients are forced to stop working, they’ll need to take certain actions. Certain actions, like cancelling their policies so they can move the money toward things like feeding their families, keeping the lights on in their homes, etc.

And when the workflow moves slower and slower into a trickle, the health insurance company needs to take action themselves.

So, in an effort to try and keep as many people in the company working, sometimes people will need to be let go. Since I was one of the newest hires, it made sense to let me go first.

Am I shocked and a little upset? Yeah, of course I am. Who wouldn’t be? This just goes to show how vicious and rugged this virus is, not only to our bodies health-wise, but on the economy as well.

Will Cross Insurance hire me back? I sure do hope so, someday. They are one of the greatest companies I have ever worked for. The culture within those walls, the people working together to make policies work for their clients, all of it. I haven’t had bosses like the ones I had in a loooong time. I actually wanted to get up early every morning and jump in my car, drive the whole 1 hour and 17 minutes into work, and tackle the projects of the day. I wish every company could take a moment out of their schedules and look at how Cross Insurance worked. How the company conversed within itself, how when a problem reared its ugly head, instead of sweeping it under the rug, the managers actually tackled it and sweated out a sensible solution.

Am I now afraid that no job is safe, including the believed “essential” ones? Yes, yes I am. This whole pandemic has opened my eyes.

We’re in trouble. As a country and a race. I thought I was safe with my job, but I was wrong.

All I can do now is hope this pandemic dies out quickly and pray I can find another job; either that, or Cross will welcome me back with open arms.

I’ve known for almost a whole year (just shy four months) that there will come a day when I have to say goodbye to my beloved Binx.

I just didn’t expect that day to come so quickly.

On our latest escapade to the vet’s office, I waited like I always did in one of the private rooms, casually flipping through my Instagram while Binx had his tummy drained of icky fluids. This gross milk-white substance is the by-product of Lymphoma, or cancer of the lymph nodes. And with nowhere to go, this stuff stretches out his stomach, and will suffocate his organs, sending him into spiraling pain.

When the vet tech came back with him, the grim look on her face said it all. She began to explain that not only did he lose roughly around 8 ounces, there was also a noticeable tint of red.

In other words, blood.

That’s when the vet (wonderful woman by the way; I would recommend her to everyone who has a pet!) came in and told me that, because of the noticeable blood, the cancer was progressing.

His time on this earth has been shortened.

I once thought I would have until spring to spend time with him. Now, I’m not even sure if he’ll make it past Christmas.

The doctor told me to keep a closer eye on him and be on the lookout for signs he’s ready to go: refusal to eat, refusal to use the litter box, and no longer wanting to move around the house. But because he’s still alert and willing to eat, she wasn’t willing just yet to send him to Kitty Heaven.

We had one small scare before we left.

Just as I was going to pick Binx up and shimmy him into his carrier, we found a small puddle of pink liquid on the table. The vet and vet-tech immediately swooped in, dabbing the wet fur on his belly and waiting to see if his disposition changed. We all stood rigid, watching as his belly continue to dribble on the table. This was the first leak that didn’t immediately plug itself up after a draining. Even more proof his cancer was moving along.

Somehow, I managed to pack him up, pay for his visit, and drove him home before I broke down. Off and on for the rest of the afternoon, I sobbed my heart out. This cat may have only been in my life for little more than two years, yet he has somehow wormed his way into my heart and has me wrapped around his pretty black paw.

Adopting him from the Humane Society was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life. When we first met, he was grumpy, hated humans, and was convinced he didn’t need anyone to help him with anything. For two entire weeks, he hissed at me whenever I moved, swiped at my ankles when I walked past, and threatened to bite Pepper if she got too close.

So how did he suddenly become one of the sweetest little boys to ever walk this earth?

Simple, I stood my ground, pointed my finger at him, and told him I was gonna be his mom for the rest of his life, whether he liked it or not, so he had better get used to it. His face went from mid snarl, to one of confusion and utter bewilderment. For the rest of the day he stared at me, as if he were waiting for me to exclaim “just kidding!” and drive him back to the Humane Society. The very next day, he jumped on the couch during a movie and plopped himself right next to my leg.

From then on, the only time he ever growled or tried to bite me was when I tried to put him in the carrier.

I’m not sure when it’ll be his time. I don’t want to think about it, to be quite honest. If I do, I’ll surely start sobbing again.

What I do know is, until that time comes, I’ll be by his side and giving him all the love and treats his little heart can take. There will never be a time where he does not know warmth and soft fleece blankets.

I’ve been following various student loan stories, including Presidential Candidate Elizabeth Warren’s proposal for mass forgiveness and Candidate Bernie Sander’s proposal to make community colleges free to the public. 

Quite frankly, I’m pissed. 

But not for what you may think. I’m all for free community college, and while I believe Warren’s proposal for mass student loan forgiveness is a bit of a stretch, if she can pull it off, then all the more power to her.  

What I’m pissed about are the various negative responses to these ideas. For instance, I have recently engaged in a twitter argument with a fellow who suggested students, and I quote, “go to a cheaper college”. Some others suggested not to go at all, since high schoolers can’t afford it now. 

Seriously?  

These are our young generation’s only options? Either go to a cheaper college or not go at all? What if one of those high schoolers dreams of becoming a doctor, who by some sheer stroke of fate, ends up saving your life? What if one of those kids dreams of becoming a police officer, who ends up saving you from a burglar breaking into your home, or heaven-forbid, worse?  

What if those kids came from low income homes, or middle-class homes on the lower end of the housing spectrum?  

Are you seriously willing to deny those kids their dreams? Their hopes? Their futures? Just because their parents can’t afford to pay out of pocket? 

“But I’ve been paying off my student loans diligently!” Some of you may be saying. “I won’t be seeing any of that help! That’s not fair!”  

Dude.  

First of all, life’s not fair. No matter how many times you want to spin it, change it, manipulate it, life will never be fair.  

Second, you sound like those old-timers who always give some stupid version of that “I walked through chest high snow to and from school for five miles every day when I was your age. It’s unfair that you get to have a school bus and I didn’t!”  

Do you realize just how silly and ridiculous that sounds? 

Times change. Technology improves, and so should education.  

60 minutes did a segment on how NYU is helping medical grad-students via generous donors by paying their entire tuition. One of those students said with this help, he’d be able to become a better doctor instead of worrying how to keep his debts low.  

But according to some nay-sayer’s logic, since he can’t afford to pay for med school in cash, he shouldn’t be there at all. 

What if he ends up curing cancer? What if he ends ups finding a way to reverse Alzheimer’s? Do you seriously want to deny him his dream of doing some good for this world? Or anyone else, for that matter? 

Yes, I have heard that higher learning is a privilege. And yes, I have been told that not all of us can, and should, go to college.  

But shouldn’t that be the child’s decision, and not yours, a total stranger? 

By telling college students that they’re being irresponsible by going to school, or that they shouldn’t be going to school at all, you’re basically saying they shouldn’t dream. 

That’s not what we should be telling our kids. We should be encouraging the next generation to go after their dreams, their hopes, and their ambitions. We as a society should be rooting for them to find the next cure, to explore the unknown, and to reach feats we could only dream of. We shouldn’t be tearing them down or making them believe that they can’t change the world when we couldn’t.  

To those who still believe that the education of the newest generation isn’t their problem, I challenge you to turn to your child. Turn to your nephew, niece, granddaughter, grandson, god-child, and all in between. Tell them to their faces, without a waiver in your voice, as their eyes sparkle with hope and unbridled passion, that they aren’t going to school to further their education. Tell them you believe college shouldn’t be accessible to all, only those who can afford it in cash. I want you to tell them they shouldn’t chase after those dreams, instead, stay in the social status level they were born into until they die.  

Go ahead. I’ll wait. 

. 

. 

. 

Did you tell them? 

If you did, you have a backbone made out of titanium. 

You also don’t have a heart.  

In normal households, there are delicious treats such as frosted cupcakes, sugar-sprinkled doughnuts, and double-chocolate muffins with giant chocolate morsels littering the insides. These would be considered luxuries for most, and when they’re in the house once on a full moon, it’s a grand day to be had.

Not in my house, though.

When you grow up with a mother who’s also a closet-nutritionist, seemingly normal things to have in the cupboard, such as white bread, whole milk, and cream cheese are just as scarce as the double-decker chocolate muffin. Bagels are near the top of that list, if not at the very zenith.

That’s why one Saturday morning, when I clambered down the stairs in a sleepy stupor, wiping the sanded grit from my still tired eyes, I had to stop and ask my already giddy father to repeat what he had said:

“We have bagels.”

Those words would not form into an intelligent sentence for me. I stared at him, blinking slowly, waiting for him to throw his hands into the air and exclaim “April Fools!”, even though the month is almost over. This is the same man who, when I was 16, thought it would be hilarious to set a toy blue Volkswagen Beetle with psychedelic flowers all over it in the middle of the garage, and then led me out with a blindfold over my eyes and told me he bought me a car. That’s just the way he is.

Refusing to believe him that rainy Saturday morning, I padded over to the bread/cereal cupboard and slowly opened the old doors. Sitting there on the bottom shelf, all wrapped up in its plastic bags, were several bagels.

Mind you, these were the thin bagels that were supposed to be healthier for you, but they were still bagels.

There were bagels in the house.

If you thought I was exited to see my favorite coffee creamer back in stock at my local Walmart, you’ve never seen me with half a bagel in one hand, and the other half dangling from my mouth.

I was dancing all around in the kitchen, squealing with the same ferocity and enthusiasm as a kid racing to freedom on the last day of school.

I already had my bagel in the toaster and was just about to push down the button when my dad called over his shoulder and said:

“Oh, by the way, there’s cream cheese in the fridge too.”