Today I made some real good friendships. And I realized the good friends I already had too. During our Nu Skin Christmas party we had, I walked in with no one (I had no date) looking for my friend, Michael Barney, who I was going to meet there. I had no clue where he was but as soon as I walked in I hear "Hone! Hone! Over here!" And it was Jeff Mabey calling me (by his nickname for me), and he invited me to come sit with them (Cory Simmons, Reagan, etc.) Since I didn't know where Michael was I sat with them. And also because they were so nice! :) After the first plate, I told them I was going to look for Michael just to say hi, so I got up and started walking around the room to find him. As I walked around, I would hear my name called out, then I would turn and it was a co-worker, either from sales or from DS, calling me. They would notice me and say hi to me. That meant so much to me. So I would stop and talk to them. Some of them even shook my hand (some in a formal way and others in a "cool" way). I began to feel happy that people even noticed me. I continued walking, though, to find Michael and his date (?--I don't know if she's just a friend) but I just could not find them. Then I saw Mark and Tricia from DS and they too called my name and stopped me to talk. They invited me to sit with them. They seemed to really want me to sit there. I felt so bad because just about five minutes prior, Alex Fisher (Claudia's husband) had actually gotten up from his table, went up to me--while I was walking--and literally took me to their table, telling me that I would sit with them. It was all such a great experience. I love people and now I see it pays off. Anyway, as I was accepting that I just was not going to find my friend, I decided to walk back to the second table I had sat at (with Alex and them) but then I heard my name again. It was Tyson Hinde (an ex-co-worker from sales) who is very cool, so I started talking to him and even got to meet his lil' brother. I miss working with Tyson, by the way. Anyway, after talking to him, I walked back--oh wait, I also saw Edule Toledo who also called my name and said hi. Then Kevan Anderson said hi. It was weird, but it was making me feel real joyful and grateful to have them.
So the night continued. I stayed at the table with Alex (they didn't really give me much option, lol) and just enjoyed my time with them. Later, after the event, Alex, Claudia, and I walked out to the parking lot together. We started talking about anything and everything. I realized that I love those guys! They are super cool. Alex is a trip! I actually think he and I could become really really good friends! I mean, it was way cool. We "chismiar" un poquito. Bueno, un monton! But they are so cool. And we got to be cultured--which matters a TON to me. At the end of the night, I realized I had made some really good friends and that I ALREADY HAVE some really good friends. There I was walking around a room looking for "A" friend, but I found many. I didn't realize I had been looking for something that I have all around me. I am so happy to say these words! Friendship! Ah :)
Friday, December 11, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Today I felt like blogging!
I can't lie, I love blogging. I don't even have much followers so I can't say I write to inform. And I really don't write to entertain, I don't think I am an entertainer. Estoy escuchando himnos navideños en youtube.com, pues es algo que disfruto mucho. I don't know, I just feel like I have found my perfect therapy. It gives me a little outlet to blog. Qué dicha! Ahora estaba por leer el Libro de Mormón pero me sentí cansado y que hoy debía tomar un pequeño descanzo de leer escritura, y más bien escribir. Gracias! No sé porqué pero solo siento adradecimiento. Me siento lleno en el corazón. Tal ves el Señor sabe algo bueno que yo no sé y lo único que me hace saber ahora es un sentimiento de gozo. Eso es lo que siento, gozo. Qué bueno! Great, off to bed, I think. A veces tengo tanto que decir. Sometimes I feel like I have so much to say, and it feels great to know that I have a blog where I can say it quickly--since typing is much quicker than writing, aka journals. Cool!
Friday, December 4, 2009
22. You Never Really Know (Evaluative conclussion)
I am very thankful for this blog and will be continuing it! It is not a secret to anyone that I thought my teacher was smoking the pipe when she made a blog a class assignment, but fortunately (or unfortunately for my pride) I was proved incorrect.
The blog has helped me say some very important things I had been keeping in that desperately needed to come out. I finally got to speak about my mothers death, and her life too. And in a great way, the blog helped me finally come to terms with the physical loss of my mother. It made me realize she's only physically gone. I've understood, through my writing, what her role in my life is now, and vice versa. That means a lot to me. I will be able to focus a bit more.
I also learned that the blog (in a strange way) validates my opinions. I've written also about things I am not so fond of and even of things like a crush. But I've learned that writing our thoughts is quite therapeutic. It has a strange way of making our outlook on life more positive. I say this because, after many of the entries, I found myself in a good mood. In fact, as I progressed, my entries became more positive. I think it is because when one feels validated, it is easier to be happy. And weather I am right on wrong in what I said, the blog has been very pleasant to do.
I have gained perspective through my blog. I've learned that its better to have perspective on life, something we, or at least I tend to struggle with. Writing helps me solve that. Ironically, this taught me that before I write important papers, I need to gain perspective. I will probably come to my blog and seek inspiration through posting another entry.
I've been quite surprised to know that I am a very optimistic person. It's surprising because I used to think I was quite the pessimist. I am glad to have discovered my optimism, of course.
Also, the blog has helped me be able to better describe how I am. I am definitely a Pathos type of personality (and writer). I am very intense and like to focus on the things of the heart. Other things just don't matter much to me. Artificiality, be it in things and in people, bothers me. Family, particularly parents, are a huge deal to me. My culture is incredibly important to who I am and I am extremely attached to it. The Spanish language will forever be a language I stay close to, but I am quite a perfectionist in my effort of being intelligent and fluent in the English language too. A close relationship with God and Christ is my essence. I try to learn the deep meaning of things in life and I love to laugh and have fun. And I occasionally get a warrant. :) We are all human.
I've learned blog interaction can be valuable. An honorable mention to Kathryn's blog, which kept me in constant laughter, but also strengthened me in the common ground her and I share with the loss of a mother. The other blogs were great too because they helped me get to know my classmates. I read plenty entries from many of them. I'm slowly making my way to reading them all.
Finally, I actually enjoy writing--granted, the writing that doesn't require sticking to a certain topic or style is much more fun, but I like writing none the less. My blog will be my new journal (unless I have something too private to say).
The blog has helped me say some very important things I had been keeping in that desperately needed to come out. I finally got to speak about my mothers death, and her life too. And in a great way, the blog helped me finally come to terms with the physical loss of my mother. It made me realize she's only physically gone. I've understood, through my writing, what her role in my life is now, and vice versa. That means a lot to me. I will be able to focus a bit more.
I also learned that the blog (in a strange way) validates my opinions. I've written also about things I am not so fond of and even of things like a crush. But I've learned that writing our thoughts is quite therapeutic. It has a strange way of making our outlook on life more positive. I say this because, after many of the entries, I found myself in a good mood. In fact, as I progressed, my entries became more positive. I think it is because when one feels validated, it is easier to be happy. And weather I am right on wrong in what I said, the blog has been very pleasant to do.
I have gained perspective through my blog. I've learned that its better to have perspective on life, something we, or at least I tend to struggle with. Writing helps me solve that. Ironically, this taught me that before I write important papers, I need to gain perspective. I will probably come to my blog and seek inspiration through posting another entry.
I've been quite surprised to know that I am a very optimistic person. It's surprising because I used to think I was quite the pessimist. I am glad to have discovered my optimism, of course.
Also, the blog has helped me be able to better describe how I am. I am definitely a Pathos type of personality (and writer). I am very intense and like to focus on the things of the heart. Other things just don't matter much to me. Artificiality, be it in things and in people, bothers me. Family, particularly parents, are a huge deal to me. My culture is incredibly important to who I am and I am extremely attached to it. The Spanish language will forever be a language I stay close to, but I am quite a perfectionist in my effort of being intelligent and fluent in the English language too. A close relationship with God and Christ is my essence. I try to learn the deep meaning of things in life and I love to laugh and have fun. And I occasionally get a warrant. :) We are all human.
I've learned blog interaction can be valuable. An honorable mention to Kathryn's blog, which kept me in constant laughter, but also strengthened me in the common ground her and I share with the loss of a mother. The other blogs were great too because they helped me get to know my classmates. I read plenty entries from many of them. I'm slowly making my way to reading them all.
Finally, I actually enjoy writing--granted, the writing that doesn't require sticking to a certain topic or style is much more fun, but I like writing none the less. My blog will be my new journal (unless I have something too private to say).
21. A Letter From a Primary Kid
My mother only had a third grade elementary education. Over the last couple of days, that fact has been wondering through my mind repeatedly. It was not invited in, it just came and it doesn't seem to want to leave. I don't understand why it's there and what it wants to tell me, but I do feel like I need to let it out and write about it. Hopefully, by the time I'm done, I will know part of what I'm supposed to learn.
I remember one day needing help with my school homework, so I asked my mom up to what school year she studied. I knew that life was hard in Mexico, where she grew up, and that people there often didn't have the means to get a college education. So, I expected her to say something like 10th or 11th grade, but she said, "I was only able to go to third grade elementary." I was very shocked! It was hard to believe that someone as sure of herself and full of character like my mother could have only had a third grade elementary education. It almost seemed like a complete lie to me. But it wasn't, my mom only had a third grade elementary education.
I really don't know why that story keeps crossing my mind. Am I being told to continue striving to get an education? Or is it something completely unexpected that I'm supposed to learn? I'm sure I'm supposed to continue with school but I feel like there is more to be learned from this.
During my mission, a missionary was sorting and handing out mail one day, and when he saw a letter addressed to me, he said, "Oh, look, Elder Márquez, a kid from your ward's primary wrote you a letter." I got the letter, and it was a letter from my mother. I was a bit unsure about how to react to the experience I had just passed, so instead I just opened the letter and started reading it. As I saw the third grader handwriting, which included several grammar and spelling errors, I realized that I had to focus on the things that mattered in the letter in order to get the message. I knew then that my mothers life was teaching me to focus on the things that mattered. I realized I was very grateful to have a mother with only a third grade education, for she was teaching me one of the smartest things anyone had ever taught me.
Today, during English class, my teacher, Sister Steadman, said that our loved ones can do more for us from the other side of the veil than when they are here with us. Those words really resonated with me because since my mother passed away her and my relationship has become even stronger.
Thank you, Mother, for being that "Primary Kid" in my life.
I remember one day needing help with my school homework, so I asked my mom up to what school year she studied. I knew that life was hard in Mexico, where she grew up, and that people there often didn't have the means to get a college education. So, I expected her to say something like 10th or 11th grade, but she said, "I was only able to go to third grade elementary." I was very shocked! It was hard to believe that someone as sure of herself and full of character like my mother could have only had a third grade elementary education. It almost seemed like a complete lie to me. But it wasn't, my mom only had a third grade elementary education.
I really don't know why that story keeps crossing my mind. Am I being told to continue striving to get an education? Or is it something completely unexpected that I'm supposed to learn? I'm sure I'm supposed to continue with school but I feel like there is more to be learned from this.
During my mission, a missionary was sorting and handing out mail one day, and when he saw a letter addressed to me, he said, "Oh, look, Elder Márquez, a kid from your ward's primary wrote you a letter." I got the letter, and it was a letter from my mother. I was a bit unsure about how to react to the experience I had just passed, so instead I just opened the letter and started reading it. As I saw the third grader handwriting, which included several grammar and spelling errors, I realized that I had to focus on the things that mattered in the letter in order to get the message. I knew then that my mothers life was teaching me to focus on the things that mattered. I realized I was very grateful to have a mother with only a third grade education, for she was teaching me one of the smartest things anyone had ever taught me.
Today, during English class, my teacher, Sister Steadman, said that our loved ones can do more for us from the other side of the veil than when they are here with us. Those words really resonated with me because since my mother passed away her and my relationship has become even stronger.
Thank you, Mother, for being that "Primary Kid" in my life.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
16. Life sucked as a sixteen year old
When I was sixteen, my dad kept moving around from town to town. I hated that! We used to live in Taos, NM, which was not so bad. Then, after some financial problems, he got up one day and said we were moving. But who knew where. About a week later we were DRIVING on the road finding where our new home would be. We had no belongings besides clothes, the truck we were driving, the camper on it and a mattress in the bed of the truck with several blankets. I try to avoid the word "hippies" because we did not wear folksy clothing and beads, but if you like the word go ahead. First we drove down to Arizona and then Texas. When in Texas my dad decided he wanted to get to know the beaches of the Gulf Coast. So, for the next few days we drove shore side (as much as possible) and in fact, several nights we actually slept on the beach. I didn't mind the beach, especially the peaceful wind and sound of the waves at night that made sleep that much more pleasant, but I minded the instability. But the drive continued. As we left the Gulf Coast, we went North to Georgia and then North Carolina. When we got to Winston-Salem, my dad decided that would be a place we would live in. He found a job and a house. We were in North Carolina about four months and then the drive started again.
This time there were no beaches. Instead we drove through other states and would stop at resta areas and have spontaneous barbecues on the grills there. Eventually, we wended in Houston, TX where my dad said once again that it was a place we would live in. My life started in Houston, TX.
14. Don't send a slideshow to a customer service agent
I work in a call center. Part of our job as Distributor Support agents is to help people get they're paperwork processed so that they can start getting their commissions deposited. Today, a lady called and spoke to Tricia, a friend of mine who sits right behind me. They arranged that the caller would send Tricia an email with the direct deposit forms. A few minutes later, while we had no phone calls, Tricia told me, "Hey, look, this distributor sent me a slideshow. Let's watch it." The slideshow, which we proceeded to watch and talk about for the next fifteen minutes, was about what Asian children are put through in gymnastics programs. Needless to say, it was quite shocking to know what they go through. Well, after a long discussion about our opinions on the cruelty of Asian gymnastics, about a half hour later the same caller called again but I got the call this time. She said she was calling because she had spoken to Tricia about sending direct deposit documents and wanted to verify that she had received them. I couldn't help but say, "No, but your slideshow was surely interesting, we spoke about it for a whole fifteen minutes." Sure hope that call doesn't get monitored.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
12. Why I am not a fan of BYU sports--especially football
It's a long one, sorry.
Since this has fully been argued on my Facebook status, I am copying and pasting (I hope it's not offensive to anyone):
Juan Marquez Max Hall... I don't have a problem so much with his manner of expression or his feelings towards the Utes and their fans (he has a right to be how he wishes), I have a problem with him saying it was "our [BYU] turn to win". THAT is why I have a hard time being a BYU sports fan, sports are NOT religious battles. I will NEVER be a fan of a player (or team) who thinks his (their) fate on the field is predetermined.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
11. Sufferage!
One word: HOMEWORK! I really don't think I need to say more. Well, even if I wanted to I can't, I have too much homework. May graduation day come soon... please.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
9. "Not-put-downable!"
I heard that 'word' on TV when they were promoting a book. I found it very funny! I want to find a book like that being that I am not a reader (other then scriptures). Unfortunately, I was too busy laughing at the 'word' that I didn't get the title of the book.
Really, though, if any of you have a good suggestion of a not-put-downable book, that would be great--but make sure you say why you're suggesting it, please.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
6. No title... intentionally.
I've learned about the importance of living with a capital L. Often we prefer to know what to expect and how to behave so that we can do exactly that. For me, I think it's a result of being a Latin in an Anglo world. It takes my nerves about fitting in away. It does a lot of things to one's head to refuse to be a minority in one's mind as well. I don't even remember the exact experience, but while thinking in retrospective about something I went through, I realized that I was proper and normal but that, as a result, I missed out on the fun of the occasion. Some may call that fun "Living the moment". I heard something on Dr. Phil one day; he said, "If you only knew how little people think about you, you would stop worrying about what they think about you". IT'S TRUE! Why try to live according to a script, an opinion, a fear... or a title? Why place such limits on life? There really is no title in life, I think. In Spanish there is a saying that says, "I cannot be a gold coin," which basically means that not everyone will like us. And, I don't know, but I think this type of attitude would get rid of a lot of hypocrisy and a lack of sincerity in us. L.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
5. Today I didn't want school
I went to sleep at 12 am last night because I wanted to make sure I got enough sleep for school. When I woke up today I set the alarm for a half hour late. I decided to miss Spanish 345 because it incredibly bores me. Well, I realized I would be late to the next class, Spanish 322 so I didn't go. By the time the third class came, Spanish 415B came I was, like, "Whats the point now?"
Great day!
Friday, October 23, 2009
4. I just looove my mission!
Today, after nearly two years, I got to talk with my son! Elder Collin James Wilson is pretty much awesome! There's just nothing like the mission: the gospel, the friends from that country, and the companion friends! I can't compare it to anything else, it would not be realistic. Where else can you have a son so realistically and yet not literally? The mission is a time of education (spiritual, book, and streetwise) and preparation. Really, there is nothing like it.
Every day I am thankful for the time spent and the place I was sent to on my mission. COSTA RICA. I truly believe a mission gives a man a real view of his identity, potential, focus, and true happiness.
It changes you so much to make you unchangeable. I AM my mission!
I am so thankful for the trials, the happy moments (so many of them) and the people and what they taught me. It just has a way of making me happy!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
3. A mother, only one.
I want to write about my mother. During my mission, she nearly died three times. She didn't even tell me about it in an effort to be a strong supportive mother to me. I would find out by other sources or by deducing it. In one of the letters she wrote me, the left half part of the letter was written higher then the other half-- she had lost her eyesight in one eye after a heart attack. When I was in my last six months, she went into a state of coma and was extremely near death. The doctor, I later found out, said it was beyond him how she managed to survive. Her last coma was a few days before I ended my mission and she was in the hospital as I was saying goodbye to my companions and mission president. My mom knew I was coming home so she forced herself to be better, and somehow came up with the courage and strength to get out of the hospital--to be fine for me, so that I would see her like she was before I left for my mission.
As I got out of the plane (when I arrived to the US), I saw my dad standing alone. I was happy to see him but worried for my mom. He told me she was in the van waiting for me. As I got to the van I saw a different person, physically, but the same loving mother. I never have received a hug like that.
As I mature more and more, I realize there is no love better, more sincere and more persevering than that of a mother. She felt her pain... and she felt mine because she loved me that much. I know that she felt the pains I felt on my mission as well as all the pains and joys I have ever felt. I know that she IS a great women, and a mother above all!
She died 37 days after I got home from my mission. She was 47 years old. That was enough for her to demonstrate her motherhood.
A mother, only one.
2. Dead cell = dead owner!
So last night I was getting ready to go watch a movie with some friends. There was going to be cute girl there so I thought I would shave at least. I knew my friend would be calling me when we was on his way so I figured I should take my phone in the restroom while I shaved so that I could answer when he called. I just placed the phone right next to the sink thinking nothing of it. So I started shaving and there I was thinking how smooth it was turning out. So I finished still thinking nothing of it. After a while, I started wondering why my friend wouldn't call. I figured it was fine, maybe he was just running late. Well, after I got tired of waiting I went back into the restroom and realized I had dropped a bunch of water on my phone from when I was washing away the shaving foam. I guess thats what happens when you leave your phone right next to the sink.
I used to hate phones. I didn't get my own phone until six months after the mission--because my dad forced me. But now, I realize that not having my cell is pretty depressing. No cute girl, no movie, no contact with anyone. I can't believe how dependent I've become of it.
And, since its the weekend, I have to remain cell-phone-less until Monday.
Friday, October 16, 2009
1. All in the intent of "finding my own voice".
Hahahaha! The title makes me laugh. My friends will now say I have blog like them. I can thank my English teacher, Steadman... or not. :) One of my classmates says I need to "liberate" myself with this blog. And that is what I am going to do. Speak what I want and how I want. So here I go!
This blog is not going to give me something I already have--a voice.
I would like to talk today about my dad. My life would be so unclear without him. He is the biggest blessing that I have. Today he proved so again. I have been having a very stressful week dealing with people who want me to "dumb it down". As one example, in my Translation class, my professor made us group into teams and do an exercise called "shadowing". It is an exercise meant to develop the ability to interpret quicker and more concisely. Your partner speaks in another language and then 10 seconds later you interpret his words into the other language. So my friend James and me got to practicing this. A few minutes later, my professor came to observe us and would just not stop criticizing me--and he didn't actually attentively here me before he did. From the second he got to us, he began telling me I was doing things wrong. He said I was interpreting too quickly--right, but too quickly. It bothered me because that's the point of the exercise. But silly me, I guess.
It was beyond me that my translation professor was criticizing my ability to interpret well as a bad thing. I spoke with him after class and asked him why he had done that.
This is what he told me, "You didn't do what I asked. I expected you to interpret like all the others but you didn't, you interpreted at an excelled ability and did more than expected. Juan, you may be talented, I guess. If you would have been humble and stuck to what I asked, I would have given you good comments."
Apparently, he wanted me to "dumb it down." It was beyond me how a professor prefers being acknowledged over helping ALL the students progress." Sadly, this story has repeated itself twice this week.
It has been making for a horrible week, so I called my dad tonight and spoke with him until about one am to understand why a professor would do that. He said, "son, there are many advantages to attending a religiously affiliated university, but there are also some disadvantages. One of those is that sometimes professors will not know where to mark the line between religion and education. Your professor would be better off being your bishop because he judged your humility--something completely irrelevant to the exercise--and not your intelligence or your desire to progress beyond the point you are currently in. But perhaps he wouldn't make a good bishop either because a bishop knows his ward is talented from before he meets them. Your professor 'guesses' you're talented." And then he asked me, "do you know who really is 'dumbing it down, son?" I knew then and there what he meant.
Before we ended our conversation, my day said, "Juan, the Lord knows the hearts of all His children. Just have your voice and let them have theirs."
Gracias, padre.
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