personal issues.

My uncle visited for a Chinese New Year's dinner at my mom's house last night; he happened to have a meeting here in Virginia that he flew to get to from California. It's always very strange to see my uncle, he's a striking image of his older brother -- my father -- and overly warm (in a comfortable way) to me, considering the fact that we only see each other once every couple of years and don't keep in touch.

Anyone who knows me, knows that for the most part, I try to kick the ass of the word, "convention". It describes ovens, and to me, supposed old traditions that I take the personal burden of doing away with by the way I lead my life. Because of this, I'm always getting advice that I have no desire to hear, or advice I didn't ask for. I saw that dinner was heading down the same route, which started of as a conversation between me and this man who had the striking image of my father.

It was a very strange thing -- I watched as he talked, and he was an odd blend of my father and my grandfather, but as I grew more familiar with his face, it slowly became very distinctly him. In parts of the conversation, he spoke with such lightheartedness it reminded me of my father, but as he got more serious -- mostly about me going back to college -- he started reminding me of my grandfather. My father and I have never been very close, and even when I visited him in the hospital for his leukemia, he treated me more like a bar buddy than a son. There were no words of confidence or of regret for the way things turned out, to him it was just a story that he was telling to an outsider. My grandfather, on the other hand, always thinks that we're a lot closer than we are, and tries to pass on overly trite advice.

As the conversation continued, however, he said this to me, "you have to choose a career that your children can be proud of," that in the end, family comes first. I've always had people living under my roof that I've tried to care and set an example for, who I've always considered as my kids, but I've never thought about what my children would think. Recently I've gotten used to sitting in the seat of the struggler, the one who always works hard, but is constantly screwed over by the way things work out -- actually more like the closet-martyr, who always says without saying, "woe is me". People have always told me to choose a good career that makes a lot of money so I would have time the time to pursue my hobbies, to which I always replied with, "how about I just pursue these passions and make money off of them?" The focus has always been on me, a person I've never really cared about too much, so sacrificing money for passion was no big deal. However, I'd never been asked to sacrifice my passion for my family. Not to say that I needed to completely stray and become an engineer or something, but more along the lines of something in my same field of interest that I could be passionate about. For instance, I've always wanted to be a writer or an English teacher. So why not go the extra step and become a professor? Teachers have always gotten screwed over by the counties that they work in with budget cuts and the like, but being a professor is stable, and carries a certain prestige, the kind that my children would be proud of me for.

I took the points in and looked upon the now-distinct face of my uncle -- he laughed and joked as he passed on more advice, but his face stayed the same. In his eyes, I saw the heart of a man who was trying his best to recover the mistakes that my father and his family had made to my immediate family. I saw a struggler. I saw a father. I saw a husband. I saw hope. I saw change. I saw convention. I saw individuality.

Later, after a long night, I looked at myself in the mirror; It was blurry, but I think I see the man my children will.

wesleigh.