Sunday, September 25, 2016

How Architecture Relates To My Life


My name is Truth. Unfortunately, Jenny isn't here so I'm going to be the co-writer today. As you know, (If you have read previous posts), my Aunt has mentioned a few blips about the wonderful game MINECRAFT. Though, much as changed from my youth, and now I am at my best. I have gone from using the game as a ''thingy to build stuff and blow up TNT.'' to an amazing architectural tool.

My high rises have gotten advanced. For example, just a few months ago, I built and completed a fully functioning hotel called the Purpl. Sounds pretty ordinary except for the name, (because, lets be honest, there are a OUTRAGEOUS amount of players in Minecraft) but this building was a breakthrough for me. It had everything to marvel at for days. Shopping centers, shows, food courts, About 200-some hotel rooms. Through all that though, the most important thing was the experience. I had a vision, a vision of a giant purple piano with neon signs and fountains that were as high as the sky (or at least 60 blocks).      (Upper pic) Purpl Hotel         (decorated for halloween)                                                        

How this related to me in real life? Well, it's because not everything I do is Minecraft. I have to deal with my schoolwork almost 12/5 on weekdays. Weekdays are honestly horrible for me, and I think I could say that for everyone. Yet, I think we all have some kind of relief on the weekends, no matter if you go down to the Cosmo (it's a hotel) and get an egg sandwich as big as your face, or you play video games, or spend hours in the bathroom playing Super Mario Bros, we all have some kind of happy place!

So, as off topic as I got, *deep breath* architecture  is my happy place, because I dream of becoming an architect, and I compare it to my life because I compare almost everything to architecture, for example, "Ugh, that tree is such a Fontainebleau (which is an eyesore on the strip even though it hasn't opened yet, even after eight opening dates *ugh*), to my Turnberry towers (which is the building that the Fontainebleau is blocking). People will look at me like I have a screw loose. That's OK! I bet everyone says weird comparisons like that every now and then.

My point is that not everyone is normal, and thats not a random cliche, it's the truth!

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Has The Story Changed?

That was the question posed by Joe Terranova of the Fast Money Halftime Report, my daily dose of sage financial advice from my favorite experts.  He, of course, was referring to evaluating an equity.  My mind went to Anna.

Anna was born beautiful, smart, creative and amazing.   The minute I held her, tucked into a pink blanket at the hospital, I loved her.  When she was about four years old, she and I were playing outside, and my neighbor asked  if she was mine.  I explained that she was my friend’s daughter.  She winked at me and whispered, “But she’s really yours isn’t she.”  Before that moment I had thought that I thought of her as niece, but I guess I did have that, “Mom” thing for her.  “Yes,” I whispered back.

She and I did life together whenever we could, “Two big girls out on the town.”  Every year that passed, she was wise beyond.  And as she grew, friends and school activities took the front seat, but the bond, that I will never share with anyone else, remained.  I looked forward to her having a vocation, college, whatever she wanted to pursue.  After high school, I imagined that we’d get together from time to time, text always, she’d marry a wonderful man, have a satisfying career, children, and all the good that life offers.

Then there was that time when the story changed.  Around the age of seventeen, she began experimenting with drugs, most notably heroin.  When I found out, all I knew about heroin addiction was that the really bad and looser kids shot up.   She was a good kid.  She was raised in an upper-middle class environment.   How?  I did everything I knew to help her (also known as enabling/co-dependency) until it came to the point that my life was being destroyed.  Everyone did everything they could to help her (again — enabling).  Her cousin got her on the show Intervention.  They sent her to a top notch facility.  Didn’t work. 

For the last eleven years, I have been separated from her more often than not by either the drugs or the treatment.  In her way, she loves me, I know this, but I also know that she is not interested in a relationship with me.  Horrible as the addiction is, she’s still smart.  She understands our new story so much better than I do.  I try to communicate from time to time, text, call.  Sometimes she answers, but more often she doesn’t.  On occasion I’ll get an, “I love you” text, but if I reply, “Hey there.  How are you?”  Silence.  Once or twice a year, we do meet for a meal and it’s never awkward or uncomfortable, but each of our lives are very different now.  I don’t have a place in her’s and she doesn’t want a place in mine.  

So I have to ask God constantly to help me accept.  That little girl, who had a million dollar surplus in my emotional bank account, only made withdraws for years.   The question that Mr. Terranova asked about stocks, applies to an investment of time and love for me.  Yes, the story has changed.

I pray, I hope, that the story will change again.  “Two big girls on the town,” both matching the investment in the equity of our relationship.