The Calling

Today I’m at my Front Desk job. And for some reason, it has felt harder than other days. I don’t know why. Maybe because the school year is starting and everyone is more stressed. I really don’t know. I do what I can, but it’s not always smooth. Hahaha.

In a few days, it will be four years since I first came to the United States. I knew it was a big deal, but I never imagined how far all of this would go. It’s like those POV videos: when the flirting gets way too intense and now you’re in the least touristy part of Mexico. (I apologize if this reflection went from funny to just plain embarrassing.)

It’s hard for me to express how I feel, but when I turn to my memories, I don’t have to try very hard. I remember those afternoons walking through the halls of the College of Music, going to those huge lockers with the red doors to keep my double bass.

As I think about this, I’m listening at work to a video from Emmet Cohen’s series that I put on earlier, with Joshua Redman and Philip Norris. They’re playing Tea for Two.

Not long ago, I had doubts. I felt sad about having a Front Desk job. I kept telling myself that the good years were over, and that this whole UNT chapter had been like a great ocean that had now spit me back out onto the shore, like those whales that end up stranded on the beach, dying, sick, and exhausted.

But when I was talking to my therapist, she said something that stayed with me.

The calling. What is your calling? What are you supposed to do with what you are now, and with what you have become?

And suddenly, everything made sense.

The calling...

I think that after I graduated, I never fully accepted that this was my place—that the United States was my place, at least for the next three years. I want to avoid thoughts like the American Dream, or the idea that living in the United States is better than living in Mexico. But maybe, right now, it is better for me.

Here, I have work. I don’t just work at the Front Desk at the music school; I also teach piano on Mondays and Fridays, and soon I’ll be teaching classical double bass at a Garland ISD high school. I also play at church on Sundays, and as unbelievable as it may sound, it’s actually a pretty difficult gig. Haha.

UNT, nor life itself, prepared me for these things. I mean, I was going to go to church? I used to drop off my grandma at the parish on Sundays so I could go buy groceries at the tianguis and then come back to pick her up. The Front Desk? When I was little, I was nervous just to order a pizza over the phone.

And I had barely used my English before four years ago.

I want to defend myself and say that my English was never bad, but the truth is that I think too fast and I get so impatient with myself that I don’t give myself enough time to speak.

And there I am, making grammatical mistakes, taking calls I sometimes don’t understand, writing emails with the help of ChatGPT (of course, this was not written with ChatGPT), looking for support groups on Facebook just for Front Desk people. I teach piano, but I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the best pianist. Just today I didn’t know which voicings to use for an arrangement of I Should Care that I’m working on.

And, well... I’ve always struggled to improve my technique on the double bass.

They say the best performers aren’t necessarily the best teachers.

So... can good teachers be people like me?

Today I woke up at 5 a.m. I asked one of my aunts to call me. I’m getting ready for a recording session that is very special to me. I’m going to record some of my favorite standards and release them as singles. During these past few days, I’ve realized how important it is to make music, even when I’m tired or sad, even when I don’t feel like it’s perfect, even when it’s hard.

And I’m starting to say... Why not?

And I’m beginning to think that artists are artists anywhere.

And for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to believe: This is my place. This is my calling.

There is still so much to do.

There is still hope. And life is smiling at me a little.

And that is what my mom would have wanted.