Waiting is a cruel mistress.

I just had dinner with my parents. We drove over to the buffet after my father suggested it. It basically sounded like this:

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Twenty minutes of awkward silence. I was pretty sure it was because my father turned to me and went, “You know, if you want to go back to school and take…say Pharmacy… well, you’re still young and you have the time.” I crossed my fingers and hoped that he was talking to the back of the head of the person on the table behind me.

There were other factors causing the silence. A) Sick people behind me and my parents staring at them, B) My mother sneaking off to the raceway after her seminar. C) The fact that I was floored by the statement.

I get it. I’m probably the only Filipino kid in the group that hasn’t landed a solid job. God knows that I’ve tried with countless business related jobs, and even a few communication based ones to no avail. I turned to one of my strengths and passions: writing. I know that I wasn’t that solid with it for a while (read: writing got traumatic and oddly emotional for me several times between 2000 and 2007). I picked up the Business-Marketing major as a crutch, a fear.

Now I have to wait weeks on end for a response from websites. Often times it’s a, “Thanks for applying, but your writing style isn’t what we’re looking for” (translated by me as: “You’re retarded for even applying.”). I may have gotten a break, but I’d only know if I got responses. After a long string of emails, I finally faxed paperwork recently. Now I wait.

Writing seems like one of the hardest things to explain to parents. At least with IT/Computer Programming, the parents have something to tell to their co-workers. I guess to their co-workers saying that I write for a website is about equal to unemployment

I guess I’m thankful for my sister for calling during the dinner out and my mother actually taking it. Rude, yes, but my salve for the night.