Purpose

Many, if not all, live our lives trying to discover a purpose. I indeed do say ‘a’ purpose. We can be here for more than one reason so to speak and I know quite a few that did not find their purpose till their late 60’s even. I floated through life quite a lot. Wake up, go to school, come home, go to sleep, repeat. I got a bit older and it was wake up, go to work, go home, sleep, repeat. I had graduated High School and I was getting a bit… concerned for what I felt like I should be doing? Around the age of 19 I went to Chicago to help my mom with a trade show. At the end of the day, my mom's company treated the doctor to dinner. Many of them I knew from years past with my mom working with them for so long. This trip, as we were walking to the restaurant, I ended up walking next to a doctor I had not met and we began to chat. She asked me what I do, what I enjoy doing and so on. We are seated for dinner and we continue talking about how I am worried I had not found my passion and purpose. She laughs and tells me she did not go back to school till she was in her late 60’s. She was old to the point the college gave her credits alone for her age. She went on to say that she graduated 5 years later and began writing books in her field and that's where she is now. Being in her late 70’s she's one of the leading doctors in her field and has written over 4 or 5 books on it. She said that the lucky ones really find it young, the fortunate ones find it and the unlucky ones never do. You do not quite know when it will happen. You do not understand it at first as all the clues start bubbling and you realize ‘holy shit, I want to be a writer’. At least that's how it happened for me so to speak.

 It was a year later I was still concerned with purpose and felt I really wanted to push for discovering what mine was. During a discussion with my dad, the topic came up. He nodded his head up and down slowly after asking him when he knew when he realized his purpose. He sat there in his garage, with both lips sunken inwards of his mouth and his eyes searching. “You have to find your sandbox, bud.” He goes on to explain when he was young he had a yearning to play in the sandbox. He would stay awake at night just thinking about what he was going to do next in it. He became protective of it and you were not allowed in the sandbox without his permission. It made him happy, it made him proud. He was in his mid 20’s and out of the Navy. Riding the streets raising hell with a certain motorcycle club. A good buddy of his invited him to meet some business owners. He meets them and things aren't what he expected. They just sat around drinking all day. My dad was a field man. He wants his oar in the water, he is roaring to go. So he’s eventually hired. They send him to schooling for his specific trade and he gets going on his job. A year later he is standing in a massive pit and he starts looking around at all the excavators and bulldozers and scrapers and trucks leaving and coming in with dirt. He realizes he is once again playing in a sandbox. Selling and relocating dirt all around town to other sandboxes. He adds that you have to search back. Search to your childhood and find that thing that you were attracted to when the world was still so new. Something that brought you joy and pride that held your focus where you were able to be in a creative flow.

 It was that day I drove down to my moms home and thought to myself what all that could be for me. Soon that night, it hit me, it’s writing. I dug deep into my memories and I remember two strong occurrences in my life where I was in my flow and creatively expressing myself and was able to be happy and take pride in it. The first occurrence was in 5th grade. My teacher, Mrs. Sage, took the morning to let us write in any way we wanted. A few events inspired me to write a creative story. The first event was Adrian and Jovic visiting for the weekend. The second was a house burning down on our street. The third was an episode of Ed, Edd, n’ Eddy that had recently aired. Over the weekend, we all explored the burned down home. Mixing all that together I wrote a story and my teacher came back to me, got down on her knee and complimented me on the story. She shared it with the other teachers Mrs. Cromwell and Mrs. Sherry. They both spoke to me about it and gave me great compliments. Something I was proud of for sure!

 The second occurrence happened in 10th grade? Mrs. Powler-Reid and Mrs. Franchimone’s English class. Now before I continue, I just want to say I am going to get a bit personal here. That morning of that class, Mrs. Reid gave a similar writing assignment to the class of free writing. The previous week I had a heart to heart with my History teacher, Mr. Blevins Jr., as I was not turning in required chapter notes. His frustrations were me getting A’s on tests but not turning in notes, bringing my grades to a collective F. He went on to say go through the textbook, write a page of notes per chapter by writing ANYTHING. Just fill in somehow any way, any sentence, just turn in work. With my IEP (individual education plan) I was able to turn in assignments up till a certain date of extended time. So I had just worked out on how to get myself out of hole and it was Friday. I went home and kicked it with Dao, as he was living with me at the time. He was playing a game and we stayed up really late with the rest of the guys. I woke up that Saturday to my dad and step mom arguing. I can not recall what the argument was about, but I remember it being pretty hardcore which was highly irregular. I try to get some more time asleep and awake some time around 9am, late 9am. I awake to them arguing still, and walk to Dao playing a game. I sit and watch till the arguing goes down. As soon as there was a consecutive amount of time to quiet, I grab my text book for history, lay it in my spot next to Dao, and ask him if he wants anything from the kitchen, he politely declines. Sandra, my step mom, had just made some bitchin’ cookies the day before and I walked past my dad seated at the counter, on the phone. I thought he was venting about Sandra and the fight he was having with her all morning. But I heard the word “He” a couple of times. I grab my cookies, fill a glass with milk and I scurry back upstairs and get seated next to Dao with my book at the ready as soon as I finish my “breakfast”. I was a cookie and a half into my pile and I heard someone coming up the stairs. I knew it was my father, for after living many years upstairs I could tell who was walking up them. He comes up and starts ripping me a new asshole yelling at me for being lazy and fucking up at school. I was confused because my father had never spoken to me like this, even if I was being an asshole, he’d tell me pretty calmly and ‘as a matter of fact’ like. He continues to talk down to me and yelling at me for not doing school work and playing games all day (i had just woken up and literally had my book next to me) I let him continue to belittle me because I knew he was wrong. He finished up and I think he went to go clean our fish tank. We had just gotten a new fish, a gorgeous Emerald Jack Dempsey. And my dad is a kind of man that likes to keep busy. Dao stands up and says he is going to go out for the day and to hit him up later. I nod, a bit teary eyed and confused, I decide to take a shower before I get started. I get the shower ready and I am just thinking about what had happened and why he would approach me that way. I think on how I am at my current age vs. how my Dad was. I shake my head and I am in the shower and it hits me. A couple minutes later there is a knock on the bathroom door. It was my Dad of course. He is saying something but I can not make it out over the water and my cd playing from my sisters Hello Kitty boombox I had…pilfered, so i just yell for him to come in. He opens the door and turns my music off and says, “Hey bud, I was just looking at our new guy in the tank. He looks really good he is getting pretty big!” I kind of laugh..naked in the shower, I put my hand to my face and pull the curtain back a bit to tell him, “you are not here in front of me to talk about a fish with what had just happened. No dad you are here because you feel bad. We all heard you this morning arguing with Sandra. You could not control her and the situation that was going on there, with Kristen not here and Monica too young to fuck up, you went after me because that’s the only other place you felt you had control. You came up to me and tried to gain some sort of control unaware that I had already worked it out with my teacher to get my grade up into a passing level and I was just eating some cookies before I got started. You see the only bad thing with me at my age is a high F in History, when you were my age you were on house arrest from ripping cars and doing god knows what new drug experience. I work hard, I am a great fucking kid, and you need to go down and get on even ground with Sandra, not me! I am doing fine.” He stood there leaning on the door jam, while I stood there behind the curtain with now cold running water at my feet. He crosses his arms while looking down at the floor and says…”There’s truth to that…there is truth to that.” He puts out a hand to shake, I slide the curtain back and shake my dad's hand butt ass naked. Passing the crossroads of boy to man for the final time in my dad's eyes gives me the most respectful and empowering handshakes of my life. I went to school that Monday to write about it in my English class. When it had ended, and they reviewed the assignments of the students, Mrs. Franchimone approached me and expressed disbelief and amazement asking if it really happened. I tell her word for word is true. She stated how impressed she was with the accounts and I will never forget her appreciation for the accounts and words of affirmation towards my writings.

I know my purpose on this earth is writing and helping others reach their own potentials or at least recognizing them. I am happy to help who I can when they ask for help and I will continue my pursuit of writing my graphic novel series and hope some day soon you all can enjoy it. Dig deep into your mind, and look back on when you felt purest enjoyment in what you were doing as a child and I will guarantee you that there is a hobby or career that can be explored that's related to it. You will find it when you may least expect it, but when it hits you, follow it. Follow that childlike wonder and pursuit of happiness.