School: It's What You Make of It

           This school semester has been quite the challenge. I signed up for my classes a tad too late, so I got whatever else was available that could fit my schedule. I should’ve have known there was a catch to having only an hour of class once a week. It was just too good to be true. Come to find out, I had signed myself up for my first trial of on-line classes. That was definitely not what I had in mind, since it was going to be Math and English. 

Even though I have never taken an on-line class, I already expected the curriculum to move at a fast pace. At this point, I wasn’t looking forward to whatever may come next. All I knew is that I was going to take it in strides. It was my dedication to finish school that helped ignite my enthusiasm to stick with these classes, which I had accidentally agreed to take. I wasn’t about to give in before the semester even got underway.

The semester started as any other had before, with the first day jitters of getting familiar with the location of the class. Once I got settled in and learned each class’s routine, I was eager to tackle each assignment. Being in the midst of it all now, I tend to get overwhelmed with balancing time for both classes. I underestimated the responsibility of an on-line class. It takes a certain kind of person to want to learn each subject by teaching him or herself.

Now that we are mid-way, I feel a lack of luster for either class. Between working long hours, my pregnant fiancée, and these on-line classes, I find myself wanted to lie in bed more often. As easy as it would be to tap out, my determination won’t let me throw in the towel. There is more on the line for me now, since my daughter is due to arrive in a few months. I know I’m going to have to put a pause on school when she’s born, so it’s a must that I complete what I can until then. I want her to have an educated father, so I won't be staying away from school for too long. 

Not So Reality TV

           When it comes to what to watch on the tube, I do my best to avoid reality TV. The premise of these shows is to unveil candid moments of, in most cases, a celebrity profile. Producers market them as reality based, but what they fail to mention is that it’s actually scripted. Due to its likeability, however, reality TV has gained a large audience, but why do people gorge on it so much? I don’t get it, and, frankly, I’m choosing not to. Although watching these shows may be very entertaining, I believe it obscures the viewers take on what is positively true to life.

            Is watching another person live their “life” on television more interesting than living my own? Ask yourself this question, if you are an avid reality TV viewer. It’s one thing to watch a documentary on someone who actually made a difference in others’ lives, than it is to watch “wanna-be “ famous actors deal with trivial matters on a day-to-day basis. The monotony of drama that is presumed to be real is mundane. If you stop to think about it, can one person’s life really be as eventful as they portray? It boggles me that so many individuals believe and feed into that sham.

            Lets take into consideration the show called “Keeping up with the Kardashians.” I’m most certain everyone knows of this show. It consists of a dysfunctional family attempting to work through their differences in front of millions of spectators. Not only does it lack morals and values, but it also sheds light on how superficial some celebrities can be. The show is clearly meant for exploitation. I don’t see what one can gain from watching this form of debauchery. There is zero take-home content, and it often repeats its theme of unruly behavior.

            More and more, these types of shows are coming out of the wood works, because of it popularity. The television networks are fully aware of the amount of viewers that tune in to watch reality TV, so they must feel the urge to produce more of them. Now when I’m flipping through channels, all I see are talk shows and, what I like to call, surreal TV. I feel the “reality” that is being televised is skewed and embellished. Which in turn, gives the viewer an abnormal perception on what is real.

I’m sure you’ve heard of the saying, “Don’t believe everything you see on TV.” Well, that is because not everything you see on TV is what it seems. The only alternative for a true source of reality is the news. If you’re looking for a big dose of realism, feel free to take a gander at what’s going on around your city. Other than that, everything else on TV has been Hollywood fabricated, and cannot be trusted as factual events. If I want to get a glimpse of reality TV, I’ll turn my channel to either Discovery or National Geographic. So for me, I always make a hard pass when it comes to watching un-reality TV. 

Change of Heart

           Working as a rental agent with my boss, Alex, wasn’t always fun and games. In fact, I used to despise this man. He’s a fast talking Guatemalan in his mid-thirties with a, “I’m never wrong,” attitude. Because of his broken English, it made understating him very difficult at times. This is where we butted heads. His relatively quick speech approach would often land him in trouble with customers, which led to me having to take the heat upon their return. It wasn’t until I moved to a different location that I realized, Alex wasn’t really all that bad.

             Bob, my new manager, was an easygoing Middle Eastern man. He would allow me to choose my breaks and their duration. For example, if I wanted to take a two-hour break, he didn’t have a problem with it. At first, the work place seemed stress-free, but my mood was soon to change. Since I didn’t have seniority here, I was forced to start at the bottom; consequently making less than my original wage.  Even though I only agreed to maintain the rental vehicles, he would sneak in managerial duties such as printing reports or opening and closing the store. He was trying to get me to do more work at a low wage, which infuriated me.

            Three months had gone by, and the paychecks were scraps compared to what I was making with Alex. Aside from pay, Bob decided to cut my hours, because business was slow. I was barely making enough to pay for my necessities. A financial strain was becoming more stressful than customer attacks used to be at Alex’s location. I started to reevaluate my decisions at this point.

            Come to think of it, Alex did a lot for me such as buy breakfast and lunch everyday, provided pay advances when I need it, and worked around my school schedule. We had a powwow and settled our differences. Alex no longer makes promises to customers that he can’t keep. Him and I are communicating more with final decision making, which leaves no room for misunderstanding. He still talks fast, but I no longer have to stress the return of an unsatisfied customer, and we get along much better as a result. 

Fastest Food

            Fast food was not always an occupant in my life, but it slowly played a bigger role in my day-to-day routine. Occasionally, as children, my mother would get my brothers and I a Happy Meal from McDonald’s. She discovered, though, that it was cheaper for her to stock up on groceries than it was to visit a drive-thru window almost every day of the week. So, ideally, she would cook dinner for us. However, cooking every night soon put a toll in her, so fast food became more and more frequent.

            Up until high school, I was spoiled by cooked meals when I came home. Then, at one point, my mother boycotted the kitchen area, which inevitably led to the fast food frenzy. Domino’s pizza, Taco Bell burritos, and Carl’s Jr. famous star burgers were being consumed weekly. Good thing I was active, otherwise I might have gained some serious unnecessary weight. Soon after high school, fast food would become my main source of daily consumption, since I lived on my own and was not a very good cook. In fact, I was only decent at scrambling some eggs.

            When I flew the coop, I was left to fend for my own meals. As I mentioned, not being savvy at cooking, the availability of a drive-thru just seemed more appealing to me. Every so often I would whip up some of my famous eggs, but more times than none I was eating take-out. This horrible habit continued as I entered the work force. Taking a lunch to work was not an option, since I had very little items to prepare with in my fridge. I suppose I could have made myself a sandwich of some sort, but that doesn’t seem appetizing when there’s a slue of fast food restaurants to choose from.

            My income was steady and I made a decent amount on my check, but by the end of my workday the last thing I wanted to do was stop at a store and scan the isles. It was less stressful for me to hit a fast food joint than to meander around a super market searching for the limited items I could actually cook; then, I had to prep and execute, forget it. Ashamed as I was, I was a self-proclaimed fast food fraternizer. It was until I began living with my girlfriend that I started to have hot cooked meal from home. Sadly enough, this was not the end of take-out all together.

            To this day, I enjoy an In-N-Out burger or a slice of Topper’s pizza, but more in moderation. For instance, if I had fast food for lunch, then I definitely stayed away from it at dinnertime. It is certainly hard to let go of fast food completely, because of its convenience. This factor alone will certainly tug at my hunger strings. Eliminating take-out from my diet is one task I plan to succeed in, but I will make sure that fast food plays a much smaller role this time around. 

A Crack at Life

        Bang! Bang! Bang! “ I need to be admitted now. Something is severely wrong with my back”, I yelled in agony. The receptionist for the emergency room threw herself back in shock. I had no intentions of terrifying the poor girl, but I was in tremendous pain. Taking in air was a challenge in itself, since every breath was shooting pain throughout my body. I was unaware this day would change my views on life forever.

         Before this incident, I was carefree. I was a very athletic person, so I didn’t consider an injury to be a major factor. Running daily had kept me in shape, and it also aided me with my sports. Baseball is all I would play, until I came across an outdoor activity called free running. Immediately, I was hooked, but it didn’t take long before I reconsidered.

It took place on a Friday, almost five years ago to this day in September, and it started like any other. Sleeping-in since I wasn’t in school, and my job had given me a day off, I leisurely rolled out of bed mid-morning. It just so happened that my girlfriend, Lynn, was down visiting from college. She had flown all the way down from Cal State Eastbay, and we planned on spending time together.  Seeing as I was the only one with a driver’s license, I was stuck doing all the commuting.

         “What would you like to do today, babe?” I asked, ” Please, nothing too crazy, okay?” As she was wracking her brain for an activity, I flipped on the tube. Randomly, I blurted out, “How about the park?” Without a rebuttal, she quickly agreed. I wasn’t trying to sound like a cheap date, but it sure came off that way when I suggested we walk. Even though it was directly on the other side of the block, she wasn’t having that, so we hopped back into my truck.

As we made our way around the park, we arrived at the playground area. “Why don’t you show me that Parkour, or free running, you’ve been bragging about for the past week?” Lynn requested as she scratched the air with finger quotations. I was reluctant at first, but I agreed to show her a few tricks, and I did mean a few tricks. I had just started late in the previous month, so I couldn’t do anything too spectacular.

         Quickly, I jumped from the bottom of the slide to the top. At the top, hung swinging bars. With the firm grip, I perform a handstand. Then, I proceeded to walk on my hands across the bars. From a height of about ten feet, I swung down. It was at this moment I thought to do a back flip off the swing. This was an idea I wouldn’t soon forget.

         It didn’t take me long to build up momentum. At the end of a three count, I flipped and came crashing back down to earth. When I landed, it was initially on my feet, but it was short lived. Slipping on wood chips, I slammed onto my rear end. My back felt like an accordion. Pain immediately attacked the middle of my spine. I tried walking it off, but to no avail. Getting back home was my only thought, once the pain wouldn’t leave.

         Adrenaline had kept most of the real pain hidden until I chose to lie down. There was no relief. I knew I was in serious trouble when the pain started to grow rapidly. Now, every movement made it harder to breathe. “You have to drive me to the hospital,” I pled to Lynn. She replied,” I don’t have a license, and I’m definitely not driving that beast you call a truck.” Fair enough I guessed.

         Since I had to drive my broken self to the hospital, each bump and turn was excruciating. As soon as I got there, I was barking at the receptionist. Fortunately, my uncle was working that day, so I was admitted right away. After the x-rays, the doctor discovered I had fractured a Thoracic bone in my spine. He recommended that I remain in bed for four weeks.

         The weeks went by slower than expected. It left me to think about my priorities. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, and it sure wasn’t free running. This is when I realized, if I am to become who I want to be then I can’t involve myself in reckless behavior. I must bear down and focus on my strong suits. Music and art are what I’m good at, so I figured I should stick to what I know.

         Had it not been for my broken back, I might still be prancing around jungle gyms acting like a fool. Ever since my accident, I’ve been working harder toward my passions. I’ve been writing more than ever, and my drawing skills have made major improvements. When it comes to school, I’m completing it gradually, because without an education my goals are just dreams. My injury could be explained as a blessing in disguise, as it opened my eyes to the more important things in life. 

Marriage has its ups and downs

         In these essays about marriage, I gathered some ideas to be accurate and others to be far fetched. The writer of “Marriage Crisis”, Aja Gabel, states, “while marriage is in decline, unmarried cohabitation is on the rise”. From experience, I agree with this writer. I’ve witnessed friends from high school, as well as myself, undergo cohabitation prior to the discussion of marriage. Compatibility and coexisting moved to the forefront, instead of jumping into a legal life-long commitment.

         I do feel marriage in alive in America, but I don’t think it has the same gravitation as it did before my time. Marriage, to me, used to have this grandiose meaning of sanctity and love. Looking at my generation, I would say it is lacking in such luster. The glamour of marriage has dampened due to the dramatic rise in divorce. We, as a society of a younger generation, bare witness to many unsuccessful marriages, and as a result find it less appealing.

         Couples don’t have to have a marriage license in order to have a family. This could be why cohabitation is growing more popular. Sadly and slowly, marriage seems to becoming an old fad. With more men and women choosing to skip matrimony, the gesture to marry gets weakened. Which in turn, leaves marriage to wither away at society’s feet.

         Now, it’s to the point where this tradition is being made a mockery, in Mexico, by allowing couples to obtain a short-term marriage license.  I found this to be absurd. In my eyes, this violates the very essence of marriage. Why chose to marry in the first place, if only for a determined amount time? To find a partner that you truly love, and want to be with forever is difficult, but to change the constitution of marriage just so couples can “rent-a-marriage” is down right ridiculous.

         Offensive as this may be to me, others can be quick to counter with a disagreement.  It is none of my business to what others do with their lives, but stepping on tradition’s toes in unjustifiable. A temporary marriage shouldn’t be issued from my perspective. If couples are willing to take the leap, then until death they part. 

         To stray back from the morbid side of marriage, those who commit should do so on the right terms. Marry for love and happiness, not for status and power. Divorce perhaps is on the rise, but only because marriage is not being taken seriously. It is a privilege to marry your “better half”, but it doesn’t always have to end in tying the knot. Cohabitation might just be the marriage before the marriage, if they do so intend.  

Name Me

            My name in full is Daniel Magana. My first name is Hebrew, which means, “God is my judge”. Based on the meaning alone, its origins become almost too obvious, which is the bible. In this book, there came a prophet who would interpret dreams and visions for kings of his era. Most would come to recognize the name, Daniel, from his encounter in a lion’s den. Miraculous as it sounds, he managed to survive this ordeal unscathed.

         Unlike the character in the bible, I am unable to interpret dreams. Though, I do have the ability to watch lucid dreams that I can recall in detail, which I find to be remarkable. It’s a close correlation, but not exact. I do fell as though the name I was given aids me in this phenomenon. Who really wants to remember their dreams play-by-play anyhow?

         Being that my mother was a devoted Christian, she chose to adorn her three sons with biblical names. The oldest bears the name David, and the youngest sports the name Thomas.  Popularity aside, it was though God had assigned our names specifically for us. Our names were an indication of our mother’s faith that would later instill morals and values in years following. With that said, Daniel seems to suit me well.

         Next, we move on to my surname, Magana. This name, in particular, doesn’t have a specific meaning. It does, however, derive from a small town in Spain. Knowing both my parents are of Mexican decent, I was thrown for a loop. Come to find out, somewhere along my lineage, I have Spaniard ancestors.

         To which conquistador that fled to America to gift this name has yet to be uncovered, the name, Magana, sure gave my childhood teachers a run for their money. At one point, it irritated me, but soon I learned to let it roll like water off a ducks back. Just hearing, “Daniel Ma…Mag-a…Mag-anna,” was enough to know my last name wasn’t as traditional as Smith or Washington. There was a uniqueness to it that separated myself from the rest of the class.

         I couldn’t think of a better name to call myself. It’s short and to the point, which is the best way to describe me.  I’ve always thought about what it would’ve been like to have a middle name, but then maybe I wouldn’t have the same personality as I do today. Besides, the name, Daniel, has more than one name in itself such as: Danny, Dan, or just plain “Dee”.  It also has cool nicknames like Daniel Son or Dan the man. Whichever variation you choose to use, I know my name is strong.

         I do believe the name chose me. In some way or another, everyone’s name can define who he or she is. If you think about it, do you look like any other name than what you were given? To me, names are what forge your paths in life. I wouldn’t change my name for anyone. I’m blessed to have been given such a name as Daniel.  

First EVER Blog

          My full name is Daniel Magana. I'm a structural song-writer, an ok singer, and a secret artist. I grew up with two brothers, one older, one younger, and a single-mom. In my mother's attempt at structure, she signed us boys up for baseball at a young age. We've been playing ever since.
          I am currently working on an AS in Art for Graphic Designing. I have a ways to go, but I won't let that detour me any longer. Ever since I moved out at eighteen, it has been a struggle to maintain the courage to continue my journey with school. I work at Avis rental car in Camarillo as a rental agent. I live with my girlfriend, Lynn, of seven years. She is currently enrolled at VC to get a nursing degree.
          This past June her and I discovered we conceived, so most of our efforts are going towards prepping for our new arrival. We want to create the best possible environment for our child-to-be, so an education is purposeful. I'd like to work from home designing logos for companies, creating business cards, or graphing images for t-shirts. My future holds a child, marriage, and a college degree. As long as I hang in there, I know life will fall into place.