Putting my Thoughts into Words

After 2 years and 3 months, I decided to quit my job (for the second time!). It was an easy decision. What  wasn't so easy, was the timing. I needed to make sure that all my bills were payed on time and that with whatever savings I had left, I would be able to survive until I landed my next job, however long that would take. Luckily, I have other sources of income I can rely on.

I was committed in doing the best job I could do in a business I had no business being in in the first place: the aviation industry!

As a kid, I would go to the airport, and prior to taking my flight, I would go to the upper deck of the airport and see planes land and take flight. I've always been marveled at the fact that these metal tubes with wings could fly and hope to someday realized one of my childhood dreams in flying a plane someday. However, my job in the past couple of years was not on a plane, but its parts. I was hired as an aviation parts broker.

The red shirt lists the names of people or groups of people that inspired me to do this race and accomplish this goal. They are: “USA - MOM - VENEZUELA Chip, Alberto, Vein, Emma, Baby Ulloa-Hulett (expected to arrive in July of this year), Alex, Matt, Belle, Bribri, Gerard, Dunant, Ma Cielo, Dunant Alejandro, Diego Alejandro, Adri, Gustavo, Ricky, The Pacelli’s, Sabra (my sister), The Rudeen’s, Fairfield Stags, Ricardo Scanonne (who’s battling cancer... because FUCK CANCER!), Jonathan Rodriguez, Lady Gaga, Roro, Grandpa, Chaba, Panda Family (my gym family), Julia R. Sill, Companion Pictures, Tom Hanks, UCLA Gymnastics and Miss Val, TVK Team, Fairfiled University, Feesh, Britt, Carsen, Caitlin Stapleton, Rachel Romansky, Lizzy Ball, Lexy Vazquez, Christelle, Daniel Fipphen and Dana, Derek Jeter, Paul O’Neil, Aly R. Green Day, Mumford & Sons, Fairfield University Media Center and friends, Hullet Family.. and later added Steve Miller, Bob Devito, Dad” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In late March of 2018 I joined a gym. A cross-fit gym! The decision came from reading books and articles and changing some habits that were holding back my best-self. At the gym I met Edwin, a really nice gentleman. I estimate that he must be in his late 20′s and weighing about 350 Lbs. He has worked incredibly hard and has lost about 60 Lbs up to this point. In January Edwin ran a half-marathon. A picture of him with a smile on his face caught my attention so much that I told myself “I want that for myself”, so I began doing some research and realized that the next half-marathon was only 6 weeks away. I’ve never been the “athletic type”, but I thought: “13.1 miles? should be easy enough!”. I should add that in January I flew to Los Angeles for the first time and like any other “first timer” in LA, I took a hike to the Hollywood sign and took a 6 mile long stroll to the Wisdom Tree and then to the back side of the Hollywood Sign and then back down to the city. So, when I survived that (a few months after ankle surgery, mind you) I thought that “yeah, 13.1 miles should be a piece of cake”. It was not... it was the WHOLE 🤬CAKE and then some! I was determined and so I begin to take a bit more cardio classes to build up my endurance. Didn’t do much for me cause those cardio classes were killing me 25 minutes into the workout. I felt faint many times, but I couldn’t give up the commitment, not only because I payed $115 to run and get my danm medal but because I was running with a bunch of people in mind that have either supported me, encouraged me, lifted me and loved me throughout my life. I felt that I couldn’t let them down and I just couldn’t let myself down (once again). I felt that I’ve been become really successful at failing at many things in my life that I wanted to give a shot at accomplishing something for myself. Not to win the race but to finish it and earn that symbolic medal. The day before the race, I picked up my number #1312 a bag with my t-shirt and other goodies. I woke up at 4am on March 3rd. I had barely slept. I took my friend’s motorcycle and drove myself to Miami Beach. I began my stretching routines and about 30 minutes later I found myself corralled next to everyone else. The starting line was right in front of what used to be Gianni Versace’s Mansion. The whistle blew at 6:15am and we were off! The first 5 miles where relatively easy. I began with a jog and reduced it down to a trot at times. Then by the time I reached the I-195 bridge (connecting Miami Beach to the main land), I began to feel pain in my joints and soles of my feet. I tried to do my best to ignore it and just kept on truckin’.

I recently had my heart broken. “By a woman?” you may ask. No, by me. You see, I put myself in a place of absolute vulnerability, with no agenda and told her how much love and respect I had for her. I found her to be so inspiring and admirable for the decent human being that she is, that well, I even told her parents. In my silly little mind, I thought to myself: “What parent wouldn’t want to hear that their daughter has had a positive impact on someone else?... What person doesn’t want to hear that they are loved or admired?” During the past few months I had been dealing with anxiety. I was “shittin’ my pants” when I told the parents. I knew that my anxiety had to do a lot with the fact that I wasn’t going to see them as frequently as I did these past few years. Their expression of love towards me and for them to consider me “family” brought me even closer to them. I honestly began to see them as not only good friends but parental figures as well. They are one of the most loving and thoughtful people and their kind gestures moved me in ways only one could only imagine... the thing is, I didn’t have to imagine it because it happened! They had extended invitations to their home in California, which was so kind of them. But when I began to develop feelings for their daughter (which I tried to ignore and suppress many times), I didn’t feel comfortable with taking them up on their offer as I felt it wasn’t appropriate. Honestly, this is the best way I can explain this feeling, but what it boils down is that I just didn’t feel right about it.  When I told them, I was ready to welcome any reaction. I prayed that they would respond positively and they did. The mom was shocked and gave me a hug and the dad (who could easily crush me by slightly lifting up his foot - the dude is tall!) gave me a hug as well when I initially stretched my hand to shake his. Now, and because I’ve been living in a way where I keep my expectations low I thought that I had one in a million shot (even no shot) to have my feelings reciprocated by this woman, especially when I told her. And I was right. She told me she wasn’t interested. As simple and straight forward as that. I appreciated it too because it was her honest answer. And if anything, I always remind myself (and others) to embrace honesty in all its forms. But what took me off kilter was the fact that she told me to stop contacting her and not to speak to her again and then took some actions that I found unwarranted. Was I disappointed? Yup! Did my anxiety levels multiply by 100? It sure felt that way! Was I hurt? Without a doubt! I do recognize however that she did not take any action by being malicious. In fact, what caught my attention (one of many great attributes she has) was her kind heart. Did she act out of fear, confusion, insecurity, anger or maybe a combination of these? I can only speculate. I’m not going to go into what she did, because honestly I don’t know the full details, but I surely received the end result and the blow knocked me to my core and luckily (and I thank God for this), my best friend was there for me as a best friend could ever be. Regardless of the aftermath, I still think highly of her and hold her in high esteem.

Since I was in my early teens, I can remember being asked “so what kind of woman do you like?” at least 2 or 3 times a year. I  would always stick to the same answer: “she has to be smart”. Nothing sexier than a passionate and smart woman. I’ve had a few failed relationships. All wonderful and smart women, just non to hold an ever-lasting relationship. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, and that’s ok. Embrace failure and learn from it. Since I moved to Miami, FL, several things have happened to me that have made me fine tune “my type”. One: some women have proposed marriage to me “for money”. I don’t mean to sound braggadocios, but it’s not my first time either. I’m by no means a “hot commodity” (although it feels nice). A handful of immigrant women have asked me to marry them and they would pay me to do so. As each proposal came, the amount of dough would raise too. In all instances, I declined because I’m one to value the institution of marriage and I intend to marry the one time too. This way of thinking has led me to “take my time” in finding that someone, and I’m really ok with that, no matter how much pressure I may get from some of my closest friends. I’ve grown patient and respectful of the process in finding “the one” (and I like to think that there is “the one”). So patience is key. Second: as of late, I have found myself attracted to strong women. Last year, I met up with a group of friends over a autumn weekend. On my way back home, I kept on thinking to myself that one in particular stood out and I couldn’t stop thinking of her. I asked myself “why?” and I concluded that beyond her physical strength, I noticed her strong character. One of my favorite turn-ons is to witness a woman hold her own ground and not tolerate any type of bullshit thrown her way. Third: Late one night, a girl I know was sadden by the set of circumstances that lead her to hug me and cry over my shoulder. I was taken aback but I had connected with someone for a sec, and not in a romantic kind of way but enough no realize that I was presented with a moment that I used to bring comfort to someone who longed for it. I hugged her back as her tears rolled down between our cheeks. A few seconds later I made her laugh out loud and it seemed that her concerns were gone long enough to compose herself and see that the moment she lived happened and the experience is something she would have probably wanted all over again instead of never had experienced it at all. I went back home from this trip and came to the conclusion that the main reason I went to see my friends, was to see her the most and loved that she was vulnerable and trusted me to help her move on. So trust is also key. Fourthly: I grew up with animals in my life. I had a dog, several cats, a pet rooster that grew up in my window sill (It was a big window). I eventually took him to the family farm. I had a couple of mice, a hamster and a pet scorpion. I LOVE ANIMALS! so much so that when I was in third or fourth grade, I would head to my aunt’s farm and wake up at 4AM or 5AM, saddle up my horse and ride into the field to corral the cows and milk them with the rest of the crew. I wouldn’t be back home for hours. It was one of the most enjoyable things I did as a kid. As of late, I noticed that “my type” has to love animals as much as I do because my ultimate dream is to live on my own farm surrounded by dogs, cats, horses, chickens, goats and a few cows. I’ll restrain myself on the scorpions! To sum up: she has to  be  smart,  independent  as  well  as  strong  and  yet sensitive. Fearless  as  she  expresses herself freely and yells for joy for the moments that warrant them and breaks down in laughter. A big must: SHE MUST LOVE FOOD... ALL TYPES! I would only ask her to grant me the blessing to be her one and only resident-cook.

Reason doesn’t come into play when you feel the way you do. It’s unpredictable and  you  quickly  embrace  the  realization  that  you  don’t control your emotions as you do your actions. I don’t think she even knows of my feelings for her, but she will as one day I will say, ever so lovingly: “I  like  you  for  you just  being  you”. I  would  not  need  to do more than that as she will know what she means to me.

For a while now I’ve been working as a line-cook. One of the greatest honors I’ve had in learning what hard work is and what it takes to do it. I feed people for a living and I take this responsibility very seriously. Knowing that I am member of a team, I focus on helping my teammates. Sometimes I have to pick up the slack for others and sometimes they have to pick it up for me. It’s just the nature of the business. Sometimes, however, the some become so constantly slacking that it becomes cumbersome and really frustrating. In any process, there’s a learning curve. Some have the patience to deal with it and some don’t. But no matter what, if you are in the position to teach, than I highly recommend that you become an encouraging teacher. I’ve been working along side someone who gave me a chance (the senior cook). Within the first week I noticed he was quite brusk with his word-choosing. I felt insulted at times and discouraged all the time. Granted I have a learning curve to go through. As the new member, I expected to make some mistakes as I when through the grind and ultimately learn from it all. Now this is not saying that I don’t know my own capabilities. I like to think that I am a good cook and I make and put out great food. I have a passion for it, PERIOD. When you go into a new place though you have to learn their process and the way they do things with what I already know how to do. I’m happy to say that for 6 months or so I am in a place where I know my way around the kitchen and have a pretty good handle on things. I’ve flown solo for about 5 of those months now (on several occasions). The staff in recent months grew from 3 cooks to 5. One of the new recruits is a 25 year old kid. I can see he has the passion for the trait but he needs some polishing. The other day, I become witness of bulling in the workplace. It was somewhat subtle but not subtle enough for me to notice it. The senior cook was grilling the new kid. He was on the verge of telling him that he sucked. But to use his words, when the new kid wasn’t doing something properly, he would use a condescending tone and say “you need to learn a lot”, “This is no good”, “You need to put passion in things”. Then he comes up to me and says that the kid lacks the “balls” to be in the business. Yeah, he used the word “Balls”. I can stomach a lot of things, but I will not stomach someone picking or causing harm, on another being. I can’t take it and I won’t take it. So, I took the opportunity to share my point of view on the situation. I asked him why not take a path to encourage him to do better in order to be better. I also pointed out that he is quick to point out when someone makes a mistake but shuts up when someone executes properly. He seems not to notice that a lot of people in the workplace sometimes can’t tolerate his behavior when he gets stressed and frustrated. He told me that he grills people as a way to “weed out” those who don’t have the “balls” to be in a kitchen. This was sad for me to hear on several levels. I mean, this 25 year old is trying to make a decent living by working hard and yet someone is not giving him the time of day to prove himself. He also told me that he lacks passion. I told him that he may lack knowledge, skills but passion he doesn’t lack. I began to realize that the senior cook’s vocabulary was somewhat constrained which is why the terms that he knows tend to be derogatory. I get that we are trying to run a successful business too. You can’t have someone compromise production if their skills are not up to par. I get it! but whether or your skills are up to par, you never EVER belittled someone because you may know better than someone else. The senior cook told me that this is how he raises up his kids to which I responded: “and you are entitled to raise your kids the best way you see fit, no matter how much I may disagree, but Jr. here (we call the new kid Jr.)... is not your kid. Treat him with the dignity and respect he deserves cause I’m sure you wouldn’t want someone telling your kid that he is not good enough or doesn’t have the balls for whatever”.

“There is something new to learn every day” has never been more true to me than earlier this week.

I’ve been fortunate enough to have held many jobs, most of which came to me. It’s one of those situations where you build a reputation and you leave a mark and then someone remembers you and they call you up and offer you something. In very few instances I had to go out a find a job, which I am well aware, it is not the case for everyone. I’ve had great interviews and never have gotten the job and very few really good interviews and seconds later, the job was handed to me on a silver plate.

In many occasions I’ve been the interviewer. I’ve had a good judge of character and I’ve hired people that have turned out to be fantastic at the position held and in very few cases, I’ve hired people that have stolen from me or the company for which I’ve worked.

This past week, however, I had the WORST INTERVIEW EVER!

Since I was rusty (given that I hadn’t been to a “formal interview” in months), my friends and family members gave me great advice. We went through mock interviews, suggested on how to give a better answer. All great stuff. Just about 2 hours before the interview, I get a message from my brother asking me how I was going dressed. I was planning on going semi-formal. I wasn’t going to an executive position, so I didn’t want to use a suit. I wanted to be “me”. However, my brother had the great point in that wearing a suit would be a better idea because given the weather in Miami, I would probably sweat a lot and the suit would do a good job in hiding it. If it wasn’t the weather with certainty the never would have had me soaked in sweat. So I suited up!

I arrive at the interview about 25 minutes ahead of time. I was welcomed by an assistant and offered a glass of water, which I graciously took. I was guided into the waiting area: a room with file cabinets and shelves full of Miami architecture and art. Looking around, I learned, is good practice for a couple of reasons: it calms your nerves and two, it gives you an idea for talking points during the interview. You study the surroundings, if you have time you go through your cellphone and do some quick research to know what the heck your talking about, and if the moment presents itself you improvise and find relatable ground with the person interviewing you.

So after 5 minutes or so, the owner of the company walks in with her laptop in hand. She introduces herself and welcomes me to sit down in plastic chairs that seemed to be from the 1980’s and were so uncomfortable that at points during the interview I found myself leaning over in pain. So this wasn't a good start at all! She opens up her laptop and begins reading every question she had previously written. Somewhat of an unorthodox approach to an interview, but I went with it. In past experiences I’ve had interviews where people make constant eye contact and listened to your answers. I think this is a better approach.

Then I began to get nervous as every question she asks I’m either misunderstanding or simply not answering as she expected me to answer. I could tell she was getting frustrated and at one point she told me she was in fact getting frustrated.

Now in my defense, the first question was something like: “what brought you here”. In response, I gave her a 30 second response which was comprised of my last 15 years. “This led to this and that led to that and now I’m here”. Then she says “you didn’t answer my question though, what brought you here?”… at which point I said: “a job post on indeed?!”. Then she tapes away.

Well, that was the first of like 4 questions that had my head going in many different directions as I was attempting to decode what she was really asking. Just a great example of how confusing her line of questions where: at one point she asked me a question and I asked her to rephrase it for me in a way I could understand her better. SHE REPEATS THE QUESTION WORD FOR WORD! Obviously this didn’t help me understand the question any better, so I answered the best I could.

Gerard, Molly and I went to Miller’s Ale House in Doral, FL for some grub. The 20 year old waitress was kind and funny and exuded nothing but positive energy. When she asked us what we wanted for our drinks I jokingly said: "diet water". "We have spring water", she jokingly suggested. "I'll take it with a lemon!" I said. She brings our drinks but my water had no lemon. I jokingly said "oh, this is going to reflect on your tip tooooniiiiight!". So she brought me a cup full of lemon wedges!

After our meal I asked her to call her supervisor. She got nervous and asked if something was wrong. With a stern face I said "nope, just please call your supervisor". She walked away nervously. My friends looked at me and said something along the lines of "dude, she's like crapping her pants right now". I told them to just wait.

With the waitress following the supervisor's steps, he walked right over to our table and introduced himself by shaking each of our hands and promptly asked if there was anything he could help is with.

This is what I told him: "Thank you for coming over. I just asked you to be here because it is people like our waitress who make people like me come back to places like this. She's nothing short of amazing. She is F*****G PHENOMENAL and I hope you treat her well cause I will probably be back next week."

At this point the waitress got someone teary eyed and the supervisor offered me a dessert on the house (which I thanked him but told them to skip it since there was really no need for it).

Still in shock, the waitress shortly after thanked me for my praise and asked for a hug, which I was happy to give. We struck up a 10 minute conversation during which she told me how much she looked forward to joining the Navy and serve our country.

I walked away by giving her a high five.

It's moments like these that well stick with you forever. I honestly live for moments like these... and they only happen when you show love and kindness.

During a recent event, I was asked to give a speech in remembrance of a dear friend and professor. This is what I said:

“You always hear people talking about others on how they “changed your life”. The fact of the matter is that “life is an ever changing thing” and obviously the decisions we make affect the outcome. We sometimes make good or bad decisions (the consequences will allow you to figure it out). But sometimes we tend to forget that those around us have a significant impact on us... on how we operate and how it all influences our decision-making-process and even how we live our daily lives. We neglect to recognize that about family, friends, the stranger opened the door and didn’t thank, your roommate, your coaches, your professors and so on.

Dra. Gisela Gil-Egui, is one of the many people in my life-time that without a doubt has allowed for me to improve my life. Things are better for me now than they were 10 years ago because of people like her!

During senior week, I took a day to write up letters to everyone I could think of who had an impact on me being able to obtain my diploma. I wrote one to Fr. Scalese when he was my professor at the Media Center, and Fr. Jim Mayzik as well. I even wrote one to the Media Center staff thanking them for everything they did for me in order to accomplish my goal. I also thanked a couple of janitors, and if anyone deserves our gratitude is people that clean up our shit (in some instances, literally!)... I wrote a letter to Fr. Von Arx and gave it to him as he handed me my diploma. Of course I wrote one to Gisela, but she was the only person to whom I didn’t hand letter and I kinda regretted it at the time.

Throughout my academic career here at Fairfield, I took time to express my gratitude to the Pep Band and the Glee Club members and directors for embracing my contributions to the groups (as minuscule as they may have been) and how it all somehow made me grow and learn. I even took time to express my gratitude to both basketball teams and volleyball team. This past year alone I lost my last grandparent and the ladies from the volleyball team (and your current MAAC Champions) brought a moment of joy on that bleak day because of their amazing comeback and win over Marist. They think they played volleyball that day, but for me it was all about gaining perspective in a moment of loss.

Ironically enough I lost my perspective when I heard the news of Gisela’s passing and it took me a few days to regain it. When I did regain it, it brought back my sense of gratitude. 

Now, I could be lamenting her loss but I’d rather spend my time being grateful to have had her in my life, even for a brief moment. Let me be clear though: I would want nothing more right now than to have her here, but I can’t. And I’m sure some faculty members may have thought “would students want to come together and celebrate my legacy once I’m gone?” Personally, the answer to this simple: NO! I wouldn’t WANT to do it. I would do it but it’s not something that I would WANT to do. I don’t want to do it for Gisela either, but the fact of the matter is we are here together not for her. We are here for us because of her and because of what she did for us. What she did for me...

I wrote a letter thanking her for her contributions in allowing for me to improve my life, and I don’t regret not handing it to her now because she was the only professor I approached and verbally thanked. I don’t know why it happened that way but because it did, it holds much more meaning in times like these.

Expressing my gratitude briefly created an awkward moment though but as humble as she was of course, she was like “Oh please, no need to thank me for anything…”

Now I tell you all of this because I would like for you to recognize that we all have to retain our moments of gratitude, especially in moments of despair and sadness. Don’t wait to express how wonderful someone was after they are gone… tell them now! Don’t act out of fear and avoid the awkward moment it may create. Tell someone how they impacted your life and how much it means to you and most importantly thank them for it. Trust me, I’d rather deal with the awkward moment it may create temporarily than to deal with the regret of not saying anything for the rest of my life.

Dear Gisela,

I have a problem and I thought perhaps you can help me resolving it: I’ve been having the hardest time trying to say goodbye to someone I met a few years ago. Needless to say, she improved my life tenfold. She had that kind of impression on a lot of people, not just me.

Our Venezuelan commonality brought us together. I walked into her office and what I thought was going to be a brief moment in exchanging pleasantries turned out to be a full-blown conversation on everything an anything you can imagine. In a short period of time I found myself realizing that I had more in common with a total stranger than I did with some of my oldest friends.

She showed me the value of time and how it’s one of those things in life you just can’t return when someone gives it to you and yet, somehow, she was always willing to give plenty of her time to me without hesitation or expecting anything in return. She helped me understand the world a little better by opening my eyes to new ideas and keep them open to even better ones in order to avoid the bullshit that life sometimes throws at you.

Her office-door was always opened welcoming everyone. She would always say “MUCHACHO!” and greet me with a biggest hug and quickly remove a binder full of essays from a nearby chair so I ‘d have a place to sit.

She knew how important it was for me to get my college degree and not only did she help me earn it when she became by professor (twice!) but she also encouraged me to minor in Communications. Like any great professor, she challenged me to become a better speaker, communicator, listener, storyteller and all-around person.

I could easily write a book on how she improved my life, but she’d probably tell me “don’t waste your time with that nonsense”, in our vernacular of course, which would somehow make me laugh out loud.

She was the kind of person that lived out her dream by enabling the dreams of others and as I write these few words to you, I’m beginning to realize that my problem is not so much that I don’t know how to say goodbye but rather not wanting to do so. Why and how can you say “goodbye” to someone like this? It may seem selfish and greedy to want to spend more time with someone who dedicated her life to others and the fact that she is gone doesn’t diminish but rather magnifies the enormity of the room she now leaves behind.

I can only find solace in the gratitude she instilled in me. Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps saying “goodbye” is so dam hard sometimes because instead what we should be saying is “thank you”, and even though I dislike the circumstances, I will thank her for all that she did for me and honor my gratitude by sharing her teachings with others.

So Gisela, thank you for being my professor and forever being friend. I love you and forever miss you. Know that I am forever changed for who you were and what you’ve come to mean to me. Somehow, I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.

                                                                                       Alejandro “Lex” Ulloa ’14

PS: One final thing, thanks again for helping me with my problem ;)

The date was December 24th, 2015.

Location: Miami, Florida.

Scenario: Christmas Eve celebration with my brother’s wife’s family.

Earlier that day I had a “late lunch” with my best friend and eat a lot of rice. Later on, when my family and I were at the party, I decided to grab a beer from the fridge. About 30 minutes had passed when I had finished my beer and thought, “Ok, I’ll switch to wine now”.

I poured myself a glass and began to drink that liquid gold. Well, more like red/purple gold, but you catch my drift. Full disclosure here, I tend to stop at the second glass or once I feel the “buzz” kicking in (which is usually by the second glass). However, this wine was far from causing any intoxicating feeling and I was so tasty that I poured a second and even a 3 glass in a 45 minute span.

I kept on thinking to myself, “Wow, this wine is so tasty and I’m 3 glasses in and no buzz, this is great!”. So a went for the forth glass and shortly thereafter the fifth glass followed. Five glasses in and nothing yet. I thought “this wine must have a low alcoholic level because I’m feeling really sober.”

Finally I had the sixth glass and the buzz kicked in. I figured since I began to feel the buzz, I’d reach for one more glass and make that one last the rest of the night. It lasted 5 minutes. At this point my judgement was impaired and I went to the final glass of the first bottle I grab off the bar. I poured a full glass and chugged it down in one breath. Once in my system I realized I had ingested about ten ounces of whisky. (By the way, I dislike whisky so much, to me it taste like ashtray water, or something to that effect.)

Needless to say, I broke the cardinal rule of drinking: “Never mix up alcoholic beverages!!!”.

Within minutes I felt ill and my body began to reject whatever was in it from earlier in the day and probably earlier in the week! The following morning, Christmas Day, I woke up to two excited little girls. My nieces, Isabelle and Briana. They asked me to wake up since Santa had stopped by the house.

Gifts were opened and there was love and excitement all around. It was a really special moment, or so I was told because I was too busy vomiting in the bathroom. I was affected because I missed the moment of excitement as my nieces opened up their gifts. I was heartbroken. Furthermore, I realized that because of my foolish choice, my family’s fun was cut short.

I came to the conclusion that the rice must have acted like a sponge in that it absorbed the alcohol which slowed down the drunken effect.

A funny moment of clarity came when all the Christmas Eve guest showed up to my brother’s house for the New Year’s Eve party he was hosting and while people walked in asking how everyone else was doing, a few people came up to me and asked “how are you feeling?”. Haha! But to be honest, it was embarrassing to have left that impression upon them. So I promised myself to not drink booze for a year.

It’s December 25th, 2015 and I can happily and proudly declare: mission accomplished, I did it!!!

Some folks asked me if it was easy. My answer was “Yeah actually. When you have options other than booze, it becomes an easy choice.” At least it was for me. I never had a dependency issue with alcohol.

Another thing that influenced my decision was education. I learned something from my friend Lizzy. While she was attending her second year of nursing school, she and I were talking one time and she told me that the reason she didn’t drink was because “alcohol was ‘poisonous' to the liver”. I researched to see if it was factually accurate, and in many regards, she was right. The liver acts as a filter, but when you introduce an excessive amount of alcohol, it can damage it greatly. Lucky the liver is one of those organs that regenerates itself, but of course that takes time. What was probably a 4 minute exchange, turned out to have a huge impact on a beneficial decision. Which is why I try to never dismiss what others wish to express, because at the end of the day, it may impact me in a positive way that I’d never anticipated. I’ve been a  big fan of Lizzy for a long time and my admiration for her and what she has chosen to do with her life has no bounds. She helped me and she probably doesn’t even know it but I am extremely grateful to her because of it.

I’m proud of myself. I rarely say that but I think it’s important to acknowledge it. I’m proud because this achievement is mine and mine alone. Sure my decision making was influenced by external forces, but I put in the work and time and I succeeded! I DID IT!

This “new year’s resolution” opened my eyes and helped me see things in myself I didn’t know to even find. I wanted this… I really wanted this and I got it!

When I was in culinary school, the professors would assign a Sous Chef or “second in command”. After a 2 week period, the Sous Chef position would be given to another student in the class. The whole purpose of this of course was to help develop leadership skills. At the end of someone’s tenure, the rest of the class would evaluate and critique the Sous Chef’s performance so they could learn and improve upon any mistakes.

When my turn came around, I failed miserably. I didn’t know what directions to give when someone came up to me for guidance. I burnt the duck legs by putting them in the convection oven instead of the conventional oven (ROOKIE MISTAKE!). When time came to evaluate my performance, I was embarrassed. The feedback made me feel like I wasn’t cut out to be in a kitchen at all. But if anything, it helped me gain some perspective on that particular situation and my life.

After working in several kitchens and holding various positions I was promoted to shift manager at a pizzeria. I was thrilled and I had gained a sense of pride knowing that someone believed in me. I was grateful for that.

When time came to execute and delegate under pressure, I SUCKED! I didn’t know how to handle myself. One time an employee was blasting heavy metal music from a boombox. I didn’t mind the type of music but I did mind the volume and after several requests in asking him to turn it down, I walked over the radio and yanked it from the shelf and threw it against the wall. It didn’t break, but it quieted the place down enough to get through the dinner rush. I apologized later because I knew very well that wasn’t the proper way to have handled the situation.

The learning curve is humbling then and it is still humbling now.

One night, my general manager at the time, came into the office and asked me how I was able to get along with the crew. Somehow he was having trouble connecting with them. Granted, most of the crew were either from Mexico or Brazil and my ability to communicate in their native languages made things easier for me, an ability the GM didn’t posses. Knowing this, I suggested for him to do something he could do. “Wash the dishes”, I said. Of course he looked at me kind of perplexed.

A few nights prior, we were so well staffed, I found myself trying to find something to do, so I decided to wash the dishes. At one point, I turned over and noticed several crew members standing at the end of the kitchen in admiration and literally began to clap as the nodded their head in approval. I didn’t understand what was going on until one of the crew members spoke up and said in Spanish: “You see, a good boss will even wash the dishes when the dishes need to get cleaned”. Subsequently, the GM began to do the dirty work himself and eventually connected with the crew. 

I loved that crew!

Years later, while attending a sporting event at my Alma Mater, a parent of one of the players didn’t like how the coach would not take part in the clean up efforts after the game was over. The whole team broke down the court and put the equipment away. In a way, it also explained why some of the players were disappointed with the coaching staff on some fronts knowing that things could be working better. This gave off the impression that the coach was smug or even arrogant at some level too, which is not the case knowing him personally, but he still gave off that impression to some.

Now sure some may say that doing the grunt-work “builds character”, but you know what it doesn’t do? It doesn’t help you earn people’s respect and admiration when you are not doing it yourself. You will get very distinct reactions when you tell people what to do versus doing things with them. When people see that you bend over backwards for them, they in turn will want to extend the same courtesy.

In past years, I’ve celebrated my birthday in the most common of ways: surrounded by friends and family. As I grew up, the celebrations varied in nature... sometimes I would be with some friends and no family although some would go out of their way that they would make me feel as though they were family), sometimes it would be just family and the typical restaurant outing, sometimes I would work during my birthday and they were a couple of times were I didn’t celebrate it at all. As a child, the most memorable birthdays I can think of were in my Family’s Hacienda in Venezuela. I would invite friends from school for a weekend and get a way. It was a blast! As an adult, the most memorable birthday was when I turned 20 years old. I was with my grandmother Rose. She took me out for sushi even though she found it disgusting. I can’t tell you what we spoke about over dinner but I remember just simply feeling loved. It was, in a sense, my realization that someone cared to say: I want to celebrate you. After she passed I seemed to have forgotten that. One year, knowing that I would be alone since my family was far away, I decided to take off to where ever the road would take me. I didn’t pick up the cellphone when it rang. I just tried to enjoy myself as much as I could, even though deep down I was sad to not have anyone around. Later that week my brother called me and asked me why I didn’t pick up my phone. I told him that I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday or even get phone calls since I wasn’t going to have friends or family near by to celebrate with. He in turn told me something I will never forget, [You got it wrong, you don’t get to celebrate your birthday, WE celebrate your birthday. You’re birthday is not you celebrating you, it is US celebrating you in our lives... whether we are with you or simply calling you over the the phone to wish you a “happy birthday”, know that it is about us celebrating you in our lives]. Ok, he didn’t say it with those words exactly, but something to that effect.

I was not only moved but my mindset changed.

A couple of years ago, I was in NYC heading to a museum for a school assignment and it turned out to land on my birthday. On my way back home, I walked by a homeless man who asked for help. I looked up and noticed a Subway restaurant across the street. I treated the man to a sandwich and a drink and because I didn’t want him to think about where he would get his next meal, I decided to get him a $20 gift card. I don’t know if it was life-changing-gesture but I like to think it was. All I know is that I improved someone’s life just a little bit, maybe for a moment, but enough to let him know that I cared about him. He said “Thank You” several times and shook my hand. I walked away thinking to myself I had given myself the best gift ever.

Last year, I was blessed to meet up with friends and really enjoy ourselves. That was a pretty sweet time.

When I was about 12 years old I made a bet with a camp counselor. The challenge? I would eat 3 hot dogs, 2 hamburgers, half a bag of chips (the big party bag), a slice of watermelon and a cup of pink lemonade. The prize? $10. Long story short, I won my $10, which I probably ended up wasting on candy or a run at McD’s.

Aside from the $10, I also got everyone’s admiration for a day for having the ability to gorge down a large amount of food really fast. Now a days I feel like eating a large amount of food really fast and getting a standing ovation for it is no different for smoking a pack of cigs in a very short time and getting a pat on the back. Yeah the comparison sounds stupid, but so are eating competitions.

In 2011, the Journal of the American Dietetic Association found that eating fast has links to obesity. When you eat, the body gradually tells your brain: “the tank is full”. When you eat too fast, this action overrides the system and by the time your body tells your brain “we’re full”, you’ll have more food in you than you needed.

Now of course many people would argue that this competition takes place once a year. If it’s a constant thing they would agree that it could cause harm in the long term (or even in the short term) but since it only happens once a year, the reasoning that the harm caused (if any) would be minuscule and the exchange for a cash prize or trophy is well worth it. Unfortunately, competitive eaters train for these competitions, so even though the event takes place once a year, they spend a lot of time eating a lot of food very fast.

The American culture is described in many different ways but unfortunately one those ways is by rewarding foolish behavior. We do it with food, we do it with liquor, it’s displayed on television and over the internet and God knows what else. At the end of it all, there is nothing rewarding about it when you put yourself in harms way and there is a high risk of you or someone else getting burned.

If a hot dog eating contest win is all that you’ll be known for in your life I guess that’s not the worst thing. I’m sure there is cash prizes that come along with it too. Unfortunately and statistically speaking, you’ll find yourself spending that money on medical bills.

Over the past several years I’ve heard over and over again that “we are all connected” somehow. From a religious standpoint some believe we are all children of God. From a scientific belief we are remnants of exploding stars. For the record, I like to believe we are all made of stars.

Regardless on where your belief may be rooted, for me, I can’t help but to find moments in my life that ratify the fact that we are all connected some how. I heard something amazing the other day: “just think about you breathing the same air that Gandhi breathed”. What a way to connect you’ve always admired. I mean, what a concept!

Furthermore, I recently heard of a campaign called the “Global Family Reunion” that is bringing awareness to everyone that we are all interconnected through blood. According to this concept, we just may be cousins. What a thought, huh?

I can’t help but to think, that if we are all connected somehow, why are we not kinder to each other? On the grounds that we are related some how… that should be enough to simply treat one another with respect and the dignaty we all so rightfully deserve. Sure we will have our disagreements from time to time, but we should always take time to get along. It makes the time together more fun that way anyways…

However, I’ve struggled in finding a balance between be kind and neglecting other things that matter. I always attempt to show kind actions towards all, especially those that need a little dose of positivism in their life. To show those who need it the most so they know that someone cares about them. I’ve always thought that was important. Granted we don’t have all the means we need at any given moment to provide someone with the help they need but someone, somewhere does and most times than not they are willing to help… call me naïve but at least I like to believe no one is THAT selfish ALL THE TIME to not want to lend a hand.

Regardless of who we are, where we came from, we all have a common priceless thing we can give to someone else who really is in dire need: our time. Most times than not, I figure, that’s all some need from us in order to carry on and gain some perspective: our time and an ear...

But there is a fine line that we all must be aware of between kindness and how our kind actions are being perceived too.

In recent times, I’ve come to learn that if you are not completely honest, whether you’re the person giving a kind gesture or receiving it, you may find yourself in a crossroads of misunderstanding.

I was first exposed to this when a female friend of mine and I were hanging out quite often. She is a delightful person and anyone who is her friend knows how lucky they are to have her in their life. At one point I realized that she and I were getting a bit too comfortable with each other in the sense that made me feel that I may have mislead her into believing something that was not. When I came to this realization, I quickly brought it up to her attention and talked about it. Turns out that she had a crush on me (as hard as some may find it to believe). I quickly and very carefully told her that even though I had much love and respect for her, our feelings were not going in the same path. She understood and ’til this day we are still friends. Granted I didn’t see her for several years, but this past year we ran into one another giving each other the biggest hug ever!

On the other side of things, I realized that someone was giving me things and I had to stop them from doing so because I realized that even though they were trying to be kind (and in ways they were) they also had an agenda: they wanted to date me. Again, I had to carefully help them understand that the interest wasn’t there.

I get sometimes that some fear in having to shut others down when they find themselves in a predicament they didn’t intend to be in because they are afraid to hurt the other person’s feelings along the way. Telling someone what they need to hear always supersedes what they want to hear. How they handle it is really on them, but one always has to carry themselves with integrity and honesty. The truth is freeing, period!

Also, show responsibility to those whom you are responsible. Some have gotten themselves into a pattern where they show to be awesome human beings to some and neglect others along the way. Find the balance between responsibility and kindness, unfortunately, it’s a fine line.