Aloha GOP,

Aloha GOP,

Am I dead yet? Every morning I ask myself that question. It is routinely my first thought of the day and for that brief instant I experience tremendous relief believing that my days on earth are finally over. But in the next moment, consciousness forces my eyes open in the early morning and brings the realization that my earthly existence continues. My subconscious self remains blissful and continues to enjoy the warmth of a fluffy pillow, and dreams of a reality far superior to my own.

But my body, tired and sluggish, stirs involuntarily to separate from the bed. I do not control my feet as they step one after the other toward the bathroom. I do not control my mouth as it opens to get my teeth brushed by a hand that appears to move automatically. There is no sign of life in the image unavoidably reflected in the mirror.

After consuming two cups of piping hot, black coffee and catching up on the morning news, I put on my game face. I go through the motions of getting my son up and off to school. On the way, we engage in some small talk and share a few laughs as he switches radio stations every few seconds. I make sure he has everything he needs before saying goodbye. It all seems somewhat mechanical, until my son leans over and kisses my cheek in front of his little school friends. He has learned that this works to resuscitate a human emotion in me.

“Go get ‘em, Killer! Oh, and don’t do drugs,” I say as he hops out of our car. He will be gone until dinner time. Dinner! Oh my God, what’s for dinner tonight? Am I dead yet?

After returning home, it is not until mid-morning that my mind unwillingly reunites with my physical body, if only out of necessity because there’s work to be done. Above my desk, I examine the items listed on my dry eraser board on the wall and am hopeful that this is the day my life will change. Each item on the list is followed by an optimistic question mark. I clear my desk of orange window envelopes amassed over time and, much like an accomplished pianist, take a seat and rest my fingertips on my computer keyboard. I bow my head forward and commence typing. My internet search to find work begins again.

As I power through the day, I am intermittently interrupted by telephone calls, emails and text messages. The magnitude of disappointment that follows a notification message has not diminished with time. Again, every job I’ve applied for, every opportunity I’ve pursued, every possibility for a better life has fallen through. After saluting my dry eraser board, I erase all its contents along with the potential each item represented. Am I dead yet?

This is the time of the day where I suspend my job search and descend into madness. Time ceases to pass as my writing begins, and I don’t stop until I have completely emptied out every thought in my head, every ache in my heart, and every question in my brain.

I have been either unemployed or severely underemployed for a total of ten years. My faith teaches me that this experience is not a personal failure, rather this series of disappointments are designed to strengthen my beliefs and measure my capacity to be of service to others. An inner voice assures me that there is a purpose behind this dark episode. But still, I ponder over the journey that led me to this lonely place. This was not supposed to be my life.