My first job was as a paperboy for the Patriot-News in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but I lived in Harrisburg from 6th grade through 10th grade, so it was probably somewhere in the middle of that time.
I remember that there were parts of that job that I really liked. I loved earning my own money for the first time in my life. I enjoyed riding my bicycle around the neighborhood, seeing other people's houses, and getting to know some neighbors a little bit better. I also really liked the pride that I felt in being our neighborhood's paperboy; there was just something special in claiming that title.
There were also parts of the job that I didn't like. I've never been a morning person, and that time of my life was no exception. I especially dreaded Sunday mornings, when I had to wake up super early to "stuff" the papers with the inserts I'd received the day before and then deliver these extra heavy Sunday newspapers to even more people than during the week. I sometimes roped my sister Jessica into helping me out; I have no idea how I got her to do it or why she did it at all. My dad, of course, was always there, especially since he's always been a morning person, pretty much the polar opposite in that regard to me.
I think I kept the position for about a year. It's nice looking back now and saying that was my first job. My daughter Seva will probably be amazed, since more and more now news is delivered to the masses through the internet and cable television. The idea of her father being a paperboy will probably seem "so 20th century" to her. I'm proud to say that my first job was as a paperboy.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
2nd day of Daycare
About an hour ago, I dropped-off Seva for her second day of daycare. When it was time for me to leave and say goodbye, she was so busy reaching for her new friend Carter's face that she didn't pay any attention to me leaving. It was just as well that way. I told the staff there that I'll stop in for a visit later today, maybe around lunchtime, to see how she's doing.
Seva seemed to do just fine on her first day yesterday. I stopped in for a visit in the mid-afternoon. She and almost all the other babies were napping, so I didn't get to see her interact with the other children. The staff told me that Seva was a bit fussy for a good chunk of the morning, probably from being in a new environment with no one familiar. She didn't eat quite as much as usual, but it wasn't anything that would cause any worry. Overall she seemed to have a pretty good day.
Although my father-in-law, John, had been doing a pretty good job watching Seva for the past two months, Jeannie and I decided that the pros of sending her to daycare finally outweighed those of having her watched by John. We really want her to socialize with other children her own age. And we want her to be stimulated and to learn from people whose job is dedicated to exactly that purpose. John is 72 years old (if I'm not mistaken) and he's losing his hearing. Although there's no question that he loves Seva and cares for her very much, we felt that his level of attention and ability to stimulate Seva was good, but not to the same level that she would get at daycare.
Obviously we hope that we've made the right decision. I guess this is one of the early decisions out of many, many more that we'll have to make in Seva's best interest. May God guide us throughout all our decisions. I hope we're good parents.
Changing topics now, I still feel regret and guilt from time to time about the changes in my relationships with others and also my past relationships. I know that life always changes and so nothing is ever guaranteed to stay the same. But I also miss some of my friendships, I feel bad about how I treated some people, especially ex-girlfriends and girls I've dated, and I miss "the old days." Maybe I'm just getting old (haha) and wistful. Looking at it logically, though, I guess this is what growing up is all about. Just like anyone else, I was bound to make mistakes and, unfortunately, many of those mistakes came at the expense of other people's feelings. Also, as I've gotten older, I realize that there is nothing that should compel me to remain friends with people whose values I disagree with. My last job at PLA was a great example. When I first started working there when I was much younger, it matched my values and ideals to a great degree. I still admire the boundless optimism that I had when I wrote my application letter to law schools, referencing my job at PLA. Over the course of my term there as a lawyer, though, the culture there changed. Or maybe I changed. Or maybe it was just the mixture of personalities that happened to be there over the course of that time. It was likely a combination of all those things, and perhaps more. Bottom line is that I didn't like it there, I didn't feel comfortable, and the culture frankly sucked. Fine, no problem. I'm not going to change anyone, and I didn't have the energy or interest in that environment to do so, thus I left. Even with all that being true, however, there's still a bit of a vacuum for the kind of office culture and work relationships that I hope to have. With God's grace, I'll hopefully be able to begin and develop new relationships. I've already become active with a couple of excellent pro bono projects, to which I'm volunteering my time. This is my true self. And to any haters at PLA or beyond, I'll let my actions speak for me, without promoting myself on facebook like someone desperate for greatness (you know people like that, I'm sure). I'm gonna work hard, I am working hard, and I'm gonna help people. Let that be enough. And may God forgive me of my sins. And may I forgive myself for the changing of the seasons and the passing of time, and therefore accept that the past belongs where it is, as I look forward to the future that awaits, according to God's will.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Seva's first subway ride
Yesterday (Sunday, August 24th) was Seva's first ride on a subway. Seva loved it. Jeannie and I picked up the Broad Street Line at Walnut-Locust station, then transferred at City Hall to the Market-Frankford Line, which we took to the Spring Garden station. Especially during the longer ride on the MFL, with Seva sitting on my lap in a window seat, she looked intently out of the window at the lights periodically spaced out between the stations and then she looked curiously at the station whenever we were stopped. For only being four and a half months old, she certainly seemed to enjoy it.
Once we got off at the Spring Garden station we walked down to Delaware Avenue and then over to Morgan's Pier, for an "event" or better yet evening of Polido Social Club. The Morgan's Pier website calls it:
Tonight we had a big dinner. We hosted my mom, Jeannie's dad, and our friends Katy and Andrew (and their 6 month-old daughter Grace). I cooked chicken seasoned with Adobo, black beans with Goya Recaito sauce, and white rice in boiled chicken bouillon cubes. I received good reviews all around. Jeannie made some homemade lime fizz by squeezing lime juice into sparkling water and a teaspoon of turbinado sugar. For an unplanned, impromptu get-together, I think we did a great job.
Once we got off at the Spring Garden station we walked down to Delaware Avenue and then over to Morgan's Pier, for an "event" or better yet evening of Polido Social Club. The Morgan's Pier website calls it:
The Polido Social Club is a weekly hang out of sunset riverside explorations curated by a revolving cast of tropical taste makers. Polido is a term Portuguese folks use for polite, polished, sleek, and smooth ~ which is exactly the type of evening vibe the social club wants you to feel.It was a very nice evening. We sat on high chairs facing the marina on the Delaware River. The sun was out for most of the time. And there was a cool breeze coming off the river. There was a speaker on the floor just below our chairs, so we could hear the music playing. There was a pretty good crowed, but it wasn't crowded. I drank a lemonade, Jeannie drank a cranberry juice mixed with lemonade, and we shared french fries with garlic aioli sauce. Seva did a great job hanging out. And we had a really good time as a family, along the Delaware River, just north of the Ben Franklin Bridge.
Tonight we had a big dinner. We hosted my mom, Jeannie's dad, and our friends Katy and Andrew (and their 6 month-old daughter Grace). I cooked chicken seasoned with Adobo, black beans with Goya Recaito sauce, and white rice in boiled chicken bouillon cubes. I received good reviews all around. Jeannie made some homemade lime fizz by squeezing lime juice into sparkling water and a teaspoon of turbinado sugar. For an unplanned, impromptu get-together, I think we did a great job.
Labels:
Ben Franklin,
family,
Jeannie,
Philadelphia,
Seva
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Rainy Day Blues
I don't have much to write about tonight. I'm eating some Breyer's natural strawberry ice cream straight from the box. It rained for most of the afternoon. I guess it's just one of those days. At least Rocky is curled up on the desk, next to the computer, keeping me company. He's a reminder that despite the appearance or feeling of a proverbial bad day, the important things are still there with God's blessing, and those blessings should not be taken for granted if we can help it. Still, with that being said, here's to hoping tomorrow is a better day. Buenas noches, estimado lector.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Questions
So, what's your story? What are your fears? What are your biggest mistakes, or regrets? If you had to offer me one piece of advice, what would it be? If you could negotiate the conflict in Gaza, how would you do so? Have you ever been outside of the country? If so, when was the last time, and where did you go? If you could go anywhere tomorrow, where would it be? If you could talk to one person who has passed away, who would it be? Do you pray to God? Do you go to church? Can you offer any book recommendations to me? From what you know of me, either directly or by reading these posts, what do you believe has been my biggest mistake? And what would be your advice for me to learn from it and overcome it? Do you know anyone who hates another class of human beings? Or in this day and age, it may be more proper to ask: do you know anyone who has spoken disdainfully on another class of human beings? poor people? white people? undocumented migrants? black people? How do you deal with that person(s)? Do you accept it, or have you asked the person(s) why she or he feels that way? Do you care about me? Do you love me? If so, can you please say a prayer for me? Would you like me to say a prayer for you? Would you like me to succeed? What do you believe is my best field for success? I ask again, if you could advise me in any way, personally or professionally, what would you say? If you worked in an environment with others who opposed you, either as an individual or for a category you belong to, would you continue to work there? If you were somewhere -- a workplace, a party, a conference -- where you felt keenly that you didn't belong, would you leave? or would you stay? Have you ever wondered why so many people, just in this country alone, disagree on so many things, even just the major public issues? If everyone is right, then does that truly mean that everyone is wrong? How would you rate the level of respect that exists in American society today? How do you feel, deep down inside, about someone who has differing beliefs than you do? If someone has committed an act that you disagree with, do you believe it gives you the right to talk down on them or look at them as less than a human being? Do you name-call other people? If so, would you be okay with others name-calling you? to your face, or behind your back? Where are the real professionals, who speak and act with professionalism at all times, today? Do you have children? If not, would you like to have children some day? Will you or do you raise your children to name-call others? Will you or do you raise your children to judge others? If you could offer one piece of advice -- of all the pieces of advice conceivably available -- to your children, what would it be? Do you love others as you love yourself? Do you love strangers as you love your family? Do you love people of the opposite sex as you love those of your gender? Did you read this far down? If so, what's your story?
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Seva's first time to the ocean
I wonder who's reading these posts? I often wonder that, but today I'm putting it in writing. Whoever you are, I hope that you're enjoying what you're reading. I can't imagine that my life or my thoughts are that interesting to anyone besides me. But then again, I think I would be interested to hear or read how others live their lives and the thoughts they have on a daily basis. Each person's life is a journey and everyone has a story to tell. So in that regard, I guess I shouldn't downplay what I share here.
With that brief preface, my dear reader, now that I've broken the fourth wall, let me tell you a little bit about my weekend.
Yesterday was Seva's first trip to the ocean. Jeannie, Seva, and I drove to Brant Beach on Long Beach Island to visit my aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc. Jess had gotten there a couple hours before we did. Seva got some sand between her toes and Jeannie even held Seva up when a wave came up to shore to get Seva's feet wet. Seva, in her usual demeanor, was very calm and observant of the whole scene. Of my extended family members there, she seemed most intrigued by her great-aunt Judith, with whom she seemed to have a connection. I guess the fact that aunt Judith was so interested in Seva probably helped too.
We hung out on the beach for a couple hours, from about 3:30pm to 5:30pm. I got the ocean for a while, a good 20 to 30 minutes I'd say. The weather was pristine: highs in the 80s, clear blue sky, occasional light breeze, and the icing on the cake was warm ocean water. Once I dove under that first wave to get myself wet, the water was absolutely relaxing. In my entire life, I've rarely experienced the Jersey Atlantic at that temperature. It was a real blessing.
We all went inside for a dinner of burgers, hot dogs, and potato salad, along with a glass of Jersey Devil white wine, diluted a bit with some ice cubes and club soda (the wine was pretty sweet). After dinner, I had a few pieces of diced cantaloupe as dessert. And we told stories, some of them about my grandfather and some about my father.
My aunt Judith described my father's relationship with his father as "contentious." She said that her father didn't really interact with her and aunt Susan, because they were girls, so her father actually had the closest relationship with Pito, although that wasn't necessarily saying much. She said that her father was "critical" of others. Cousin Marc gave the example that even I would have been criticized for having hair too long (right now, my hair is completely buzzed on the sides and I have less than an inch of hair on top, not even long enough to style). I guessed that my grandfather's military background in the U.S. Navy played a part in that mentality. Aunt Judith said that her father would just disagree to disagree: "if you said white, he'd say black." One thing I learned was that my grandfather willingly chose to join the U.S. Navy during World War II. Uncle Ray explained that having a family was an exemption to being enlisted, so my grandfather could have used that as a reason to stay home. Aunt Judith said that, among her classmates in school, her father was the only one away in the military. When I asked if my grandfather used the war as a way to "escape" life at home, aunt Judith said that was always her impression. She said that she was raised by and large by her mother's parents (my great-grandparents), so that when her father returned from the war, he and even her mother were still merely "substitute parents." I found that really interesting. She concurred what I had heard that my grandfather acted like a drill sergeant by personally coaching my dad at the track directly across the street from their house in Englewood, pushing my dad to run faster, holding a stopwatch and timing the intervals.
We also heard the funny story, which my sister brought up, about my dad wanting to date a black girl in high school and my grandfather finding out and chasing my dad in circles in the yard outside the house. I remember my dad telling me about this episode that he tried to reason with his father that he coached black kids on the track team, so it should be okay for his son to date a black girl. It didn't matter to my grandfather. Although they lived in a suburb of New York City, the fact remained that this was 1960s America.
Jess also brought up a story that was completely new to everyone at the table. According to her, Pito baked pot brownies and gave them to his parents. Uncle Ray laughed at the thought of my grandfather stoned, saying "I would've loved to have seen that." I'll have to ask Pito if that story is true.
Cousin Marc told a story about how Pito had let him drive his car at the age of 12. He said that they were all in Forked River (at my grandparents' house at 842 Wave Drive) and my dad asked Marc, then age 12 or so, if he wanted to drive. Obviously Marc said yes, so without telling any of the other adults there, my dad took him out in his car. Marc said that he first drove while my dad controlled the pedals, then they switched. My dad told Marc not to tell anyone, but as soon as Marc walked in the door and someone asked him what he was doing, Marc said "Uncle Francis let me drive!" to which my grandmother dropped something in the sink and aunts Judith and Susan, who were sitting at the kitchen table, looked at him in shock.
Marc also told the story about the time that my dad picked him up at school in some kind of red convertible, with his mother (my aunt) in the passenger seat. He said that all his classmates were in total disbelief, saying something to the effect of "whoa! that's your dad?!" since they knew Marc's mother and they just assumed that it must have been Marc's father in the driver seat. Marc said that, growing up, he always wanted to grow up to be like Pito. That's kind of funny for me to hear, being his son. I can also see that my dad was clearly rebellious against his father.
Aunt Judith said that her father disagreed in some way with Pito's decision to go into the Peace Corps. And it wasn't until my grandfather (and grandmother) visited Pito in Costa Rica and saw what he was doing there that he had any kind of respect for the decision. I type this here almost verbatim from what aunt Judith said last night.
To step back from all these stories, I must state that it had been at least 15 years since I'd seen aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc. As best as I could recall to Jeannie during our car ride there, I'm pretty certain that I last saw my paternal extended family at my cousin Stephen's wedding, when I was a sophomore (as best I can remember) in college. Now that I had a chance to reconnect with them and especially after hearing stories of my dad, I realize that it's important to continue building my relationship with my dad. I also think about the handful of people in my life that don't seem to like me (namely a few of my coworkers at PLA) and I realize that I need to stick with all the people who do seem to like me and care about me. And between so many of my friends, plus the unconditional love of family, I see that I'm a very fortunate guy. And that I don't need to let the prejudice of a handful of others get me down.
We drove home late last night. We got home around 11pm.
This morning I did the welcome remarks and the first reading at mass at St. Charles Borromeo, which I had been scheduled to do for a few months back. I felt embarrassed by the fact that I've missed Sunday mass for about the past month. But I'm very thankful that I had this commitment this morning to urge me to finally go again. As I have before, I got compliments from a few people afterwards that I did a good job, from Ms. Richardson, from Sandy, and from our friends Pete and Vanessa, who also attended (and who I didn't see until I returned to my seat next to Jeannie after the first reading). It felt good to be back. It really did.
Afterwards, Pete, Vanessa, Jeannie, Seva, and I went to brunch at Cafe Ynez. I ate an omelette with orange juice. It was good. Although I started feeling a bit tired during brunch (especially my voice, which always seems to be one of the first indicators that I'm tired), it was nice to spend some time with friends, talking about marriages, buying a house, and traveling the world.
As if I didn't realize how tired I was, I later took a long nap on the couch in the afternoon. Nothing like a summer Sunday afternoon nap!
Finally, to rejoin the theme of reconnecting, we drove to Cherry Hill this evening to meet my old friend Shay and his family for dinner at their house. Shay cooked a whole bunch of stuff on the grill and we ate inside at the dining room table, while talking about all sorts of things. I haven't seen Shay since probably around 2002 or so. He looks a bit heavier and just a little bit older, but he really mostly looks the same. When we first got there, his wife Eki took us on a tour of their backyard, where they have a couple chicken coops, a couple rabbit pens, three ducks walking freely, and fish pond, and various vegetable garden enclosures. It was amazing to see their ingenuity in using their suburban backyard to provide for their family. Shay even installed a couple solar panels on the main chicken coop. It was impressive to see. I really enjoyed seeing him and catching up with him. As I told him before we left, I hope we can see each other again soon, certainly much sooner than 10 years from now.
All in all, it was a good weekend. My only minor frustration is that I feel that I've spent such little quality one-on-one time with Jeannie; for the past week, she's been so tired or in such a business state-of-mind that it's either been not possible or not fun to hang out with her. I'm only eight months into this journey called matrimony, but I knew these kinds of challenges, mostly brought on from external conditions, would inevitably come. I will say this though: no matter what I'm very happy to be married. Especially to Jeannie. I very much prefer it to the alternatives, which I've lived through before. So for everything -- from the weekend to life itself -- I thank God. Now time for bed.....
With that brief preface, my dear reader, now that I've broken the fourth wall, let me tell you a little bit about my weekend.
Yesterday was Seva's first trip to the ocean. Jeannie, Seva, and I drove to Brant Beach on Long Beach Island to visit my aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc. Jess had gotten there a couple hours before we did. Seva got some sand between her toes and Jeannie even held Seva up when a wave came up to shore to get Seva's feet wet. Seva, in her usual demeanor, was very calm and observant of the whole scene. Of my extended family members there, she seemed most intrigued by her great-aunt Judith, with whom she seemed to have a connection. I guess the fact that aunt Judith was so interested in Seva probably helped too.
We hung out on the beach for a couple hours, from about 3:30pm to 5:30pm. I got the ocean for a while, a good 20 to 30 minutes I'd say. The weather was pristine: highs in the 80s, clear blue sky, occasional light breeze, and the icing on the cake was warm ocean water. Once I dove under that first wave to get myself wet, the water was absolutely relaxing. In my entire life, I've rarely experienced the Jersey Atlantic at that temperature. It was a real blessing.
We all went inside for a dinner of burgers, hot dogs, and potato salad, along with a glass of Jersey Devil white wine, diluted a bit with some ice cubes and club soda (the wine was pretty sweet). After dinner, I had a few pieces of diced cantaloupe as dessert. And we told stories, some of them about my grandfather and some about my father.
My aunt Judith described my father's relationship with his father as "contentious." She said that her father didn't really interact with her and aunt Susan, because they were girls, so her father actually had the closest relationship with Pito, although that wasn't necessarily saying much. She said that her father was "critical" of others. Cousin Marc gave the example that even I would have been criticized for having hair too long (right now, my hair is completely buzzed on the sides and I have less than an inch of hair on top, not even long enough to style). I guessed that my grandfather's military background in the U.S. Navy played a part in that mentality. Aunt Judith said that her father would just disagree to disagree: "if you said white, he'd say black." One thing I learned was that my grandfather willingly chose to join the U.S. Navy during World War II. Uncle Ray explained that having a family was an exemption to being enlisted, so my grandfather could have used that as a reason to stay home. Aunt Judith said that, among her classmates in school, her father was the only one away in the military. When I asked if my grandfather used the war as a way to "escape" life at home, aunt Judith said that was always her impression. She said that she was raised by and large by her mother's parents (my great-grandparents), so that when her father returned from the war, he and even her mother were still merely "substitute parents." I found that really interesting. She concurred what I had heard that my grandfather acted like a drill sergeant by personally coaching my dad at the track directly across the street from their house in Englewood, pushing my dad to run faster, holding a stopwatch and timing the intervals.
We also heard the funny story, which my sister brought up, about my dad wanting to date a black girl in high school and my grandfather finding out and chasing my dad in circles in the yard outside the house. I remember my dad telling me about this episode that he tried to reason with his father that he coached black kids on the track team, so it should be okay for his son to date a black girl. It didn't matter to my grandfather. Although they lived in a suburb of New York City, the fact remained that this was 1960s America.
Jess also brought up a story that was completely new to everyone at the table. According to her, Pito baked pot brownies and gave them to his parents. Uncle Ray laughed at the thought of my grandfather stoned, saying "I would've loved to have seen that." I'll have to ask Pito if that story is true.
Cousin Marc told a story about how Pito had let him drive his car at the age of 12. He said that they were all in Forked River (at my grandparents' house at 842 Wave Drive) and my dad asked Marc, then age 12 or so, if he wanted to drive. Obviously Marc said yes, so without telling any of the other adults there, my dad took him out in his car. Marc said that he first drove while my dad controlled the pedals, then they switched. My dad told Marc not to tell anyone, but as soon as Marc walked in the door and someone asked him what he was doing, Marc said "Uncle Francis let me drive!" to which my grandmother dropped something in the sink and aunts Judith and Susan, who were sitting at the kitchen table, looked at him in shock.
Marc also told the story about the time that my dad picked him up at school in some kind of red convertible, with his mother (my aunt) in the passenger seat. He said that all his classmates were in total disbelief, saying something to the effect of "whoa! that's your dad?!" since they knew Marc's mother and they just assumed that it must have been Marc's father in the driver seat. Marc said that, growing up, he always wanted to grow up to be like Pito. That's kind of funny for me to hear, being his son. I can also see that my dad was clearly rebellious against his father.
Aunt Judith said that her father disagreed in some way with Pito's decision to go into the Peace Corps. And it wasn't until my grandfather (and grandmother) visited Pito in Costa Rica and saw what he was doing there that he had any kind of respect for the decision. I type this here almost verbatim from what aunt Judith said last night.
To step back from all these stories, I must state that it had been at least 15 years since I'd seen aunt Judith, uncle Ray, and cousin Marc. As best as I could recall to Jeannie during our car ride there, I'm pretty certain that I last saw my paternal extended family at my cousin Stephen's wedding, when I was a sophomore (as best I can remember) in college. Now that I had a chance to reconnect with them and especially after hearing stories of my dad, I realize that it's important to continue building my relationship with my dad. I also think about the handful of people in my life that don't seem to like me (namely a few of my coworkers at PLA) and I realize that I need to stick with all the people who do seem to like me and care about me. And between so many of my friends, plus the unconditional love of family, I see that I'm a very fortunate guy. And that I don't need to let the prejudice of a handful of others get me down.
We drove home late last night. We got home around 11pm.
This morning I did the welcome remarks and the first reading at mass at St. Charles Borromeo, which I had been scheduled to do for a few months back. I felt embarrassed by the fact that I've missed Sunday mass for about the past month. But I'm very thankful that I had this commitment this morning to urge me to finally go again. As I have before, I got compliments from a few people afterwards that I did a good job, from Ms. Richardson, from Sandy, and from our friends Pete and Vanessa, who also attended (and who I didn't see until I returned to my seat next to Jeannie after the first reading). It felt good to be back. It really did.
Afterwards, Pete, Vanessa, Jeannie, Seva, and I went to brunch at Cafe Ynez. I ate an omelette with orange juice. It was good. Although I started feeling a bit tired during brunch (especially my voice, which always seems to be one of the first indicators that I'm tired), it was nice to spend some time with friends, talking about marriages, buying a house, and traveling the world.
As if I didn't realize how tired I was, I later took a long nap on the couch in the afternoon. Nothing like a summer Sunday afternoon nap!
Finally, to rejoin the theme of reconnecting, we drove to Cherry Hill this evening to meet my old friend Shay and his family for dinner at their house. Shay cooked a whole bunch of stuff on the grill and we ate inside at the dining room table, while talking about all sorts of things. I haven't seen Shay since probably around 2002 or so. He looks a bit heavier and just a little bit older, but he really mostly looks the same. When we first got there, his wife Eki took us on a tour of their backyard, where they have a couple chicken coops, a couple rabbit pens, three ducks walking freely, and fish pond, and various vegetable garden enclosures. It was amazing to see their ingenuity in using their suburban backyard to provide for their family. Shay even installed a couple solar panels on the main chicken coop. It was impressive to see. I really enjoyed seeing him and catching up with him. As I told him before we left, I hope we can see each other again soon, certainly much sooner than 10 years from now.
All in all, it was a good weekend. My only minor frustration is that I feel that I've spent such little quality one-on-one time with Jeannie; for the past week, she's been so tired or in such a business state-of-mind that it's either been not possible or not fun to hang out with her. I'm only eight months into this journey called matrimony, but I knew these kinds of challenges, mostly brought on from external conditions, would inevitably come. I will say this though: no matter what I'm very happy to be married. Especially to Jeannie. I very much prefer it to the alternatives, which I've lived through before. So for everything -- from the weekend to life itself -- I thank God. Now time for bed.....
Labels:
church,
Costa Rica,
faith,
family,
Jeannie,
restaurants,
Seva
Friday, August 8, 2014
I'm a Simple Man, used to Changes
I'm a minimalist. I have one pair of shorts, one sweatshirt, one pair of jeans, one pair of athletic shorts. Even as a kid, I didn't like shopping. I remember abhorring back-to-school clothes shopping. Now, as an adult, if I need something, I go to whatever store has it, go directly to where it is, get it, and get out as soon as I can.
It kinda goes hand-in-hand with me being so frugal. I'm a saver, not a spender. As alluded to above, I only spend money when it's necessary and I know specifically what I need.
The longest I ever lived in one place, one residence that is, was when I lived at the Double-Deuce & Spruce: from June 2003 through October 2011, a total of 8 years, 5 months. As I wrote that (then took a few minutes, thinking out loud, to be sure of the dates), I said "wow!" It's hard to believe that I lived there for that length of time. The longest that I ever attended one school, one individual educational institution, was my 4 years of college. And the longest that I've ever worked at one job, for one employer, for a consecutive stretch is my current one: since October 2009, thus for 4 years, 8 months until I went out on paternity leave to be with Seva. Although I don't like changes (my friend Evan pointed that out to me years ago), I've had a lifetime of stages or periods until the next change came. I guess that's at least partly why I was so impressed just now at the length of time I lived at the Double-Deuce & Spruce; nothing comes close. Although I can agree with Evan that I don't particularly like change, I know that -- because I'm so accustomed to a new school or a new town or a new home or a new job every 2 or 3 years -- I have an internal clock which gets louder as that existential mile-marker is passed. During that time, the scales slowly begin to tip away from complacency and antipathy towards change and they tip in the direction of shaking things up, doing something new, taking on a challenge, making a move. Busy myself as I often do, once the down time comes, those internal whispers become ever more audible. We have a magnet on our refrigerator which says, "when your heart speaks, take good notes." So it's kinda like that, the voice that comes from my heart gets louder, until I have no choice but to take note. And then the questions become: where to? what next?
Labels:
Double-Deuce and Spruce,
Gettysburg,
Philadelphia,
quotes,
Seva
Thursday, August 7, 2014
I'm a Lawyer
I help my clients. I meet them in-person. I listen to them. I ask questions. I know how to ask the hard questions. I advise my clients. I know how to explain complex legal concepts in an understandable way. I take notes. Very detailed, well-written notes. I know the statutes and most relevant case law. I know how to do legal research, and do it quickly and well, if I need to confirm the state of relevant case law. I'm an excellent legal writer. I don't misspell words. I know how to use punctuation. I know how to apply facts to law. In writing. And at Court. I'm confident of my ability to analyze legal issues. Very confident. Because I'm thorough. I work hard. I am intelligent. Since I am confident, I'm not intimidated by other lawyers. Not by women lawyers. Not by men lawyers. Not by lawyers from this law school or that law school. Not by the big names. I respect the judges. But I'm not scared of them. I'm confident. So I can present my cases with confidence. I'm good at making evidentiary objections, although I can get better. I respond to my clients' communications, although I can get better at that too, especially if I have a lower client volume. I care about my clients. I develop a sincere relationship with my clients. I help my clients achieve their legal objectives. I'm good at what I do. I present well. I'm professional. I treat all people with respect: clients, opposing parties, attorneys, court staff, judges. Some lawyers calls clients names in their notes or among colleagues in private. I don't. Some lawyers call opposing parties names in their notes or among colleagues in private. I don't. Some lawyers speak disparagingly about other classes of lawyers or about certain demographics of clientele or even about individual lawyers or parties. I don't. I treat all people with respect. To their face. In my notes. And in private. There are some clients I don't completely like. There are some opposing parties that I don't trust, or whose actions I do not condone. There are some lawyers that I don't hold in high esteem, usually for their character as noted above. But I don't name-call any of them. Those who do so simply diminish themselves. I'll continue to do my work. Continue to be a good lawyer. Continue to help people. I win cases. Did I mention? I win. And I win. And I win. Yes, I'm competitive. I've won a lot of things in the past, before becoming a lawyer. I win. This is a competitive field of work. This is a competitive world we live in. Am I competitive? Hell yes. And I win. Why? I'm intelligent. I work hard. I know my shit. I'm not scared of anyone. I'm confident. I win. Have I made mistakes? Certainly, let she who has not sinned throw the first stone. Do my mistakes take away from the truth of everything above? No, not one bit. If there is one who hates me or is jealous of me, it is because they know the truth of everything above but have difficulty accepting it. That one will try to shine a light on my mistakes, but by pointing the light on me she will have put herself in darkness. And remember: "To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of ocean by the frailty of its foam. To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy." (Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, p. 93). I was a good lawyer before I went to law school. Before I became a lawyer. I have been a good lawyer. I am a good lawyer. I will continue to be a good lawyer. I will help people and I will win cases. You'll see. Or you don't have to. It's fine by me either way. I am an excellent lawyer.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Proud to be a Two-Fifteener
I just saw on the ESPN ticker that college football begins August 28th. I'm excited. There's nothing like football. College football on Saturdays, pro football on Sundays. It reminds me that fall is on its way, my favorite season of the year.
Earlier today, I met Jeannie outside La Colombe across from City Hall, while she ate her lunch from Five Guys and I drank a coffee. Despite the very light drizzle, I rode my bike to see her. It was nice to spend some time with her while her dad watched Seva at home.
After dropping off Jeannie at her job, I walked over to 15th & Market Streets, where I sat down and waited for my friend Mike to come by. I waited for about half an hour, but I didn't mind because I enjoyed people-watching and that, for once, I wasn't in any rush to go anywhere or do anything. It felt really nice actually.
Finally, when I saw Mike walking towards me, I noticed that he was with [F.B.], another attorney who I've argued cases against and who I know Mike has become friendly with over the past year or so. When [F.B.] came up to me he gave me a hug. Despite our encounters in Court, we've always been friendly with each other. It was probably also cool for him to see that Mike's friend was me. [F.B.] suggested that we grab a drink, so we walked a couple blocks to Tir Na Nog. We mainly talked about the practice of law and our families. It was a good time. Eventually [F.B.] had to leave to go back to his office, so it was really nice to have a chance to catch up, just a little bit, with Mike one-on-one.
Having had a couple beers, though, by the time I got back home I was just enough out of sorts that I didn't get much done. I still hadn't eaten lunch, so I did that first: ham & American cheese on seeded rye with wasabi mayonnaise and a slice of pickle, along with popcorn, a banana, and an apple on the side.
Fast-forwarding to tonight, Jeannie made salads as usual and I cooked macaroni and cheese with tuna and peas, while we watched the movie American Reunion on FXX. While sitting on the couch, Seva began yelling as she has the past few days, not in any kind of angry or demanding way, but instead as a flexing of her voice and lungs. It's hilarious. I have to admit that, once Seva gets started, Jeannie and I encourage it by yelling too. We laugh the whole time. It's really funny.
Finally, to conclude this post tonight, I'll offer a totally random thought: I would not for any amount of money or at any level of income live in New York City. Just the thought of living there tires me. It's just too much of some things (people, money, attitude) and not enough of others (living space, trees, open spaces, a sense of community). I happily prefer being a Two-Fifteener: just enough city, just enough sense of community, with quick enough accessibility to open spaces within the city and then the suburbs beyond.
Earlier today, I met Jeannie outside La Colombe across from City Hall, while she ate her lunch from Five Guys and I drank a coffee. Despite the very light drizzle, I rode my bike to see her. It was nice to spend some time with her while her dad watched Seva at home.
After dropping off Jeannie at her job, I walked over to 15th & Market Streets, where I sat down and waited for my friend Mike to come by. I waited for about half an hour, but I didn't mind because I enjoyed people-watching and that, for once, I wasn't in any rush to go anywhere or do anything. It felt really nice actually.
Finally, when I saw Mike walking towards me, I noticed that he was with [F.B.], another attorney who I've argued cases against and who I know Mike has become friendly with over the past year or so. When [F.B.] came up to me he gave me a hug. Despite our encounters in Court, we've always been friendly with each other. It was probably also cool for him to see that Mike's friend was me. [F.B.] suggested that we grab a drink, so we walked a couple blocks to Tir Na Nog. We mainly talked about the practice of law and our families. It was a good time. Eventually [F.B.] had to leave to go back to his office, so it was really nice to have a chance to catch up, just a little bit, with Mike one-on-one.
Having had a couple beers, though, by the time I got back home I was just enough out of sorts that I didn't get much done. I still hadn't eaten lunch, so I did that first: ham & American cheese on seeded rye with wasabi mayonnaise and a slice of pickle, along with popcorn, a banana, and an apple on the side.
Fast-forwarding to tonight, Jeannie made salads as usual and I cooked macaroni and cheese with tuna and peas, while we watched the movie American Reunion on FXX. While sitting on the couch, Seva began yelling as she has the past few days, not in any kind of angry or demanding way, but instead as a flexing of her voice and lungs. It's hilarious. I have to admit that, once Seva gets started, Jeannie and I encourage it by yelling too. We laugh the whole time. It's really funny.
Finally, to conclude this post tonight, I'll offer a totally random thought: I would not for any amount of money or at any level of income live in New York City. Just the thought of living there tires me. It's just too much of some things (people, money, attitude) and not enough of others (living space, trees, open spaces, a sense of community). I happily prefer being a Two-Fifteener: just enough city, just enough sense of community, with quick enough accessibility to open spaces within the city and then the suburbs beyond.
Labels:
football,
Jeannie,
law,
movies,
New York City,
Philadelphia,
restaurants,
Seva,
two-fifteener
Monday, August 4, 2014
Reconnecting with Family
I just got off a half-hour Skype call with my cousins Carlos and Enrique; they could see me, but because their camera wasn't working I couldn't see them. But it was great to hear both their voices and catch up with them. Especially after what I wrote about Carlos just a few days ago. It goes to show you (and me) that you can never assume anything and that communication is very important to dispel any incorrect assumptions. I'm feeling pretty happy right now.
At the end of the call, I told them that I was going to get my daughter, but when I came back on screen I was holding up Rocky. I asked them rhetorically if he looked like me; I got a good laugh from them on that one. Then, a minute later, I actually brought Seva into the picture. She had been crying in her crib upstairs (probably because she could hear my voice speaking loudly downstairs). Although she calmed down for a minute, she started crying again (probably because she was tired at this late hour), so I had to end the call. I told Carlos, though, that I hope to talk with him again soon.
We had a few good laughs during our conversation; it was really good. Now that I'm writing about it, it makes me think for the first time that I'd like to go back to Costa Rica at some point. I hadn't felt that way until now.
Sticking with the theme of reconnecting with family, Jess is going to visit our Aunt Judith and Uncle Ray in Long Beach Island this weekend. A couple of our cousins may be there too. Jess passed along Judith's invitation for Jeannie, Seva, and me to go. And I think we just may take them up on the offer, which would be the first time I've seen the paternal side of my family in many years.
Finally, I just want to add a comment relating to a thought that I'd had earlier today, a thought that came back to me and was reconfirmed after my Skype call with my cousins: I have been much, much happier being away from [...]. It's now been about two months that I've been away. I reflected and realized today that I'm turning a corner now where my mental and emotional health is finally healing. I finally feel like my old self! It's a great feeling. And it's a sign that I'm heading in the right direction, towards good and away from a bad vibe. I feel great and I'm thankful.
At the end of the call, I told them that I was going to get my daughter, but when I came back on screen I was holding up Rocky. I asked them rhetorically if he looked like me; I got a good laugh from them on that one. Then, a minute later, I actually brought Seva into the picture. She had been crying in her crib upstairs (probably because she could hear my voice speaking loudly downstairs). Although she calmed down for a minute, she started crying again (probably because she was tired at this late hour), so I had to end the call. I told Carlos, though, that I hope to talk with him again soon.
We had a few good laughs during our conversation; it was really good. Now that I'm writing about it, it makes me think for the first time that I'd like to go back to Costa Rica at some point. I hadn't felt that way until now.
Sticking with the theme of reconnecting with family, Jess is going to visit our Aunt Judith and Uncle Ray in Long Beach Island this weekend. A couple of our cousins may be there too. Jess passed along Judith's invitation for Jeannie, Seva, and me to go. And I think we just may take them up on the offer, which would be the first time I've seen the paternal side of my family in many years.
Finally, I just want to add a comment relating to a thought that I'd had earlier today, a thought that came back to me and was reconfirmed after my Skype call with my cousins: I have been much, much happier being away from [...]. It's now been about two months that I've been away. I reflected and realized today that I'm turning a corner now where my mental and emotional health is finally healing. I finally feel like my old self! It's a great feeling. And it's a sign that I'm heading in the right direction, towards good and away from a bad vibe. I feel great and I'm thankful.
Labels:
Costa Rica,
español,
family,
Rocky and the Baby,
Seva,
work
Weekend Recap
We had a great weekend, even though it didn't go according to plan.
Friday night we drove out to Media to visit our friends Katy, Andrew, Deb, and Antoine. We had fun brainstorming over cheese, wine, and other snacks. It was a productive night and I look forward to the next steps that will come from that meeting. The only downside was Jeannie's prediction came true: we'd get home so late that we'd be tired and sleep in on Saturday, causing us to cancel or postpone our plans to take a road trip South.
As such, most of Saturday was a day of rest. I can't even say that I remember what we did, except that we stayed in the house for most of the day. If I recall correctly, I folded some laundry that had been in the dryer for a day or two, and I did some reading. But then some time in the late afternoon, around 5pm I wanna say, I suggested to Jeannie that we take a walk. She agreed, so we packed-up Seva and we headed out. The weather was exceptionally cool for this time of year; I just heard that the high temperature yesterday was only 77 degrees.
Our first destination was the Wine & Spirits store on Market Street. After taking our last bottle of red wine to Katy and Andrew's place, I thought we needed to restock. We got three bottles: two bottles of malbec and one bottle of tempranillo from the Rioja region of Spain. Right before we got there, though, I saw a couple of men standing in the middle of the sidewalk and looking at a map. Once we were near them, I spoke up and asked them if they needed directions. They asked in which direction was the river, to which I replied: "which one? The Schuylkill is that way (pointing west down Market Street), and the Delaware is that way (pointing back east on Market)." After chatting with them for a couple minutes while walking west, we found out that they were a couple guys from Australia, probably in their 50s, looking to head back to their hotel after they'd gotten a drink or two at a bar. They said that they were in town for a combination of business and pleasure, and that they needed to get ready for dinner. I was happy to have pointed them in the right direction. Hopefully they enjoyed the rest of their time in the 215.
After getting our wine, we walked around somewhat aimlessly for a while, looking for a place to get a sweet snack. I won't even go through the progression of places that we considered and/or actually went to. I'll skip to the point that we finally decided to go to Miel, on 17th Street, where we each got a chocolate cube dessert, which we ate at a table on the sidewalk. We noticed a lot of people wearing lanyards, indicating that they were very likely in town for some sort of convention. I commented to Jeannie how so many people walk in public without making any eye contact at all with anyone else, as if everyone is scared to interact with a stranger. While sitting there, I on the other hand looked at everyone who walked by; perhaps this was easier and less potentially intimidating to others since I had Seva standing with my assistance on my lap for most of the time. Anyway, we had a nice time sitting there for a while, enjoying the cool, comfortable weather that I already mentioned.
Due in great part to that great weather, as well as a feeling (for myself at least) of being out of the house and enjoying it, I suggested to Jeannie that we continue our walk by getting burgers at 500 Degrees. Jeannie agreed, so we walked over to the 1500 block of Sansom. We each got a burger, and Jeannie got a side of truffle fries, which we split. Again we sat at a table on the sidewalk. After eating I went in to wash my greasy hands and when I came out, there was a guy sitting at another table next to ours. He was asking Jeannie, then me, for advice on whether he could take a 19 year-old girl into Rumor. I gave some advice to him as best as I could. And we chatted for a few minutes. He said he was from the Congo. I asked him: "Kinshasa?" to which he said "no," so I immediately smiled and said, "Brazzaville?" to which he was very impressed. He said that he was in Philadelphia for the first time, visiting for a short period to practice his English (which was pretty good, other than an accent). He said that he was living in Paris, which was common practice for Africans who want to create a better resume for themselves and thus open up better job opportunities for when they return to the Congo. At the end of our short talk, I gave him my personal business card. I enjoyed our short, impromptu meeting.
On our walk home, we stopped through Rittenhouse Square, where we saw a gathering at the main entrance to the park, at the corner of 18th & Walnut Streets. There we saw a recognizable Philly street singer singing to a small crowd. We walked up to join everyone and listen in for a few songs. At the end of one song, the singer announced to the crowd that, in addition to being a singer, he was also a psychic. He approached a woman in the crowd and asked if her name was Patricia; she nodded yes. She was standing next to her boyfriend. Then, the singer began singing a happy song (which I didn't recognize, but Jeannie did). I forget how they got there, but the girl and her boyfriend ended up listening to the song from a more prominent position in front of the singer. Then, about halfway through the song, the boyfriend stepped away from the girl, reached his hand into his pocket, pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee and proposed to her. The singer stopped singing, while the music kept going, but pretty low. The girl indicated that she said yes and the crowd cheered! In honor of the couple, the singer immediately began singing Etta James' famous song, "At Last." It was a very touching and authentic moment. I saw some women wiping tears away from their eyes. It was great to be there to see and experience all that.
Shortly after getting home, Jeannie changed Seva's diaper. I was downstairs. Seva must have been revved up and excited, because as Jeannie was changing her, Jeannie was asking questions about our walk, to which Seva answered by just yelling pretty loudly for her little body. It was hilarious. After a couple minutes of this, I came upstairs to capture it on video, but I only caught the very tail-end of it. It was funny, though, hearing Seva really test her lungs and assert herself. Jeannie and I were both laughing.
Finally, Jeannie and I slept in this morning. It was another cool day and another day of rest. We watched the movie "Coach Carter" on tv. Then later in the afternoon, while still sitting on the couch, while Jeannie was holding Seva, I started to play with Seva, mainly by rubbing my head into Seva's hands and her belly and chest. Seva started laughing! It was such a funny and beautiful moment. We really had fun. It was one of those moments where we were all together as a family and just enjoying being together.
So I guess you could say that, although the weekend didn't go exactly according to plan, it was a great weekend, and for that I thank God.
Friday night we drove out to Media to visit our friends Katy, Andrew, Deb, and Antoine. We had fun brainstorming over cheese, wine, and other snacks. It was a productive night and I look forward to the next steps that will come from that meeting. The only downside was Jeannie's prediction came true: we'd get home so late that we'd be tired and sleep in on Saturday, causing us to cancel or postpone our plans to take a road trip South.
As such, most of Saturday was a day of rest. I can't even say that I remember what we did, except that we stayed in the house for most of the day. If I recall correctly, I folded some laundry that had been in the dryer for a day or two, and I did some reading. But then some time in the late afternoon, around 5pm I wanna say, I suggested to Jeannie that we take a walk. She agreed, so we packed-up Seva and we headed out. The weather was exceptionally cool for this time of year; I just heard that the high temperature yesterday was only 77 degrees.
Our first destination was the Wine & Spirits store on Market Street. After taking our last bottle of red wine to Katy and Andrew's place, I thought we needed to restock. We got three bottles: two bottles of malbec and one bottle of tempranillo from the Rioja region of Spain. Right before we got there, though, I saw a couple of men standing in the middle of the sidewalk and looking at a map. Once we were near them, I spoke up and asked them if they needed directions. They asked in which direction was the river, to which I replied: "which one? The Schuylkill is that way (pointing west down Market Street), and the Delaware is that way (pointing back east on Market)." After chatting with them for a couple minutes while walking west, we found out that they were a couple guys from Australia, probably in their 50s, looking to head back to their hotel after they'd gotten a drink or two at a bar. They said that they were in town for a combination of business and pleasure, and that they needed to get ready for dinner. I was happy to have pointed them in the right direction. Hopefully they enjoyed the rest of their time in the 215.
After getting our wine, we walked around somewhat aimlessly for a while, looking for a place to get a sweet snack. I won't even go through the progression of places that we considered and/or actually went to. I'll skip to the point that we finally decided to go to Miel, on 17th Street, where we each got a chocolate cube dessert, which we ate at a table on the sidewalk. We noticed a lot of people wearing lanyards, indicating that they were very likely in town for some sort of convention. I commented to Jeannie how so many people walk in public without making any eye contact at all with anyone else, as if everyone is scared to interact with a stranger. While sitting there, I on the other hand looked at everyone who walked by; perhaps this was easier and less potentially intimidating to others since I had Seva standing with my assistance on my lap for most of the time. Anyway, we had a nice time sitting there for a while, enjoying the cool, comfortable weather that I already mentioned.
Due in great part to that great weather, as well as a feeling (for myself at least) of being out of the house and enjoying it, I suggested to Jeannie that we continue our walk by getting burgers at 500 Degrees. Jeannie agreed, so we walked over to the 1500 block of Sansom. We each got a burger, and Jeannie got a side of truffle fries, which we split. Again we sat at a table on the sidewalk. After eating I went in to wash my greasy hands and when I came out, there was a guy sitting at another table next to ours. He was asking Jeannie, then me, for advice on whether he could take a 19 year-old girl into Rumor. I gave some advice to him as best as I could. And we chatted for a few minutes. He said he was from the Congo. I asked him: "Kinshasa?" to which he said "no," so I immediately smiled and said, "Brazzaville?" to which he was very impressed. He said that he was in Philadelphia for the first time, visiting for a short period to practice his English (which was pretty good, other than an accent). He said that he was living in Paris, which was common practice for Africans who want to create a better resume for themselves and thus open up better job opportunities for when they return to the Congo. At the end of our short talk, I gave him my personal business card. I enjoyed our short, impromptu meeting.
On our walk home, we stopped through Rittenhouse Square, where we saw a gathering at the main entrance to the park, at the corner of 18th & Walnut Streets. There we saw a recognizable Philly street singer singing to a small crowd. We walked up to join everyone and listen in for a few songs. At the end of one song, the singer announced to the crowd that, in addition to being a singer, he was also a psychic. He approached a woman in the crowd and asked if her name was Patricia; she nodded yes. She was standing next to her boyfriend. Then, the singer began singing a happy song (which I didn't recognize, but Jeannie did). I forget how they got there, but the girl and her boyfriend ended up listening to the song from a more prominent position in front of the singer. Then, about halfway through the song, the boyfriend stepped away from the girl, reached his hand into his pocket, pulled out a ring, dropped to one knee and proposed to her. The singer stopped singing, while the music kept going, but pretty low. The girl indicated that she said yes and the crowd cheered! In honor of the couple, the singer immediately began singing Etta James' famous song, "At Last." It was a very touching and authentic moment. I saw some women wiping tears away from their eyes. It was great to be there to see and experience all that.
Shortly after getting home, Jeannie changed Seva's diaper. I was downstairs. Seva must have been revved up and excited, because as Jeannie was changing her, Jeannie was asking questions about our walk, to which Seva answered by just yelling pretty loudly for her little body. It was hilarious. After a couple minutes of this, I came upstairs to capture it on video, but I only caught the very tail-end of it. It was funny, though, hearing Seva really test her lungs and assert herself. Jeannie and I were both laughing.
Finally, Jeannie and I slept in this morning. It was another cool day and another day of rest. We watched the movie "Coach Carter" on tv. Then later in the afternoon, while still sitting on the couch, while Jeannie was holding Seva, I started to play with Seva, mainly by rubbing my head into Seva's hands and her belly and chest. Seva started laughing! It was such a funny and beautiful moment. We really had fun. It was one of those moments where we were all together as a family and just enjoying being together.
So I guess you could say that, although the weekend didn't go exactly according to plan, it was a great weekend, and for that I thank God.
Labels:
family,
Jeannie,
Philadelphia,
restaurants,
Rittenhouse Square,
Schuylkill River,
Seva,
Walnut Street,
wine
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Leadership
Tonight I watched the second half of a rebroadcast of last year's Georgia at Auburn football game, ranked by ESPN as the #3 best college football game of 2013. It got me thinking about college football, football in general, and also leadership.
I remembered my college football coach, Barry Streeter, who SUCKED as a football coach. I have stated to others and I write unequivocally here that my high school football coach was superior to, better than, Coach Barry Streeter. When I played for Coach Streeter, he ran the wing-T offense, consisting of three running backs and only one wide receiver. He remained stubborn in this offensive set during a time when college football at the Division I level was opening up to a more pro-style offense, that is, more passing. I remember that his inflexibility actually gave the opposing teams an advantage, because his playbook as head coach was the same year after year. So opposing head coaches and defensive coordinators could just study film from previous years and coach their defense on how to defend a particular play based on the offensive formation and the action in the backfield. This is common sense of course, something that Coach Streeter apparently lacks.
I just looked up Coach Streeter's overall record as head coach (see here). In the past 16 seasons, he's had a winning record just 4 times. Despite anyone who may want to call him a "legend" based on his long tenure, this record is anything but legendary; it's sub-par.
Now, let's contrast...
I just saw an article on philly.com, the headline of which was "Expect Kelly's Eagles to have new wrinkles in their offense." The first sentence of the article reads: "Chip Kelly has said since Day 1 that offense is personnel-driven." Then, just a couple lines later, Kelly is quoted as saying: "The biggest thing that you have to do is identify the skill-sets you have..." I made this same point numerous times as a college football player to my positions coach under Coach Streeter. Even as a student, I recognized that you don't plug players into a cookie-cutter system, which minimizes players' unique talents and makes your offense completely predictable. And this is a principle of leadership that should apply to any team, organization, or company: you take the time to assess and understand your talent, then you put your team members in the best possible positions to exploit those individual talents with the objective to meet your team's goals. It's not rocket science.
As author Warren Bennis wrote in his book "On Becoming a Leader": "The success or failure of all organizations . . . rests on the quality of their decision makers." Again, refer back to Coach Streeter's overall record over the past 16 years; does that significant sample size reflect success or failure? (As an important sidenote, Warren Bennis died two days ago (article here)). There are certain traits of a leader, which include being active (as opposed to reactive), experimental (as opposed to rote), and flexible (as opposed to rigid); these are all cited by Bennis in On Becoming a Leader. Whereas Coach Kelly exemplifies those positive leadership traits, Coach Streeter exemplifies the stagnant traits of a manager wearing a leader's mask.
I imagine that, at this point, at this late date, there is likely no way to get Coach Streeter to retire (or have him 'relieved of his duties'). If you're a high school player being recruited by, or considering playing for, Coach Streeter, my clear advice is: don't.
And for the vast majority of you who aren't being recruited by Coach Streeter, keep this leadership principle in mind when looking at your own career: spend as little time as possible in a workplace where management and supervisors are mediocre managers, rather than true leaders. You'll get sucked in; your self-esteem may take a hit when you don't fit into the cookie-cutter mold; and you may start to question your skills or abilities. If that happens, get the hell out of there! Go somewhere to work for real leaders, people who will support you, encourage you, and positively challenge you, based upon an assessment and understanding of your individual skills. Understand that good leaders make you better; bad leaders mostly waste your time, except to learn how not to be.
I remembered my college football coach, Barry Streeter, who SUCKED as a football coach. I have stated to others and I write unequivocally here that my high school football coach was superior to, better than, Coach Barry Streeter. When I played for Coach Streeter, he ran the wing-T offense, consisting of three running backs and only one wide receiver. He remained stubborn in this offensive set during a time when college football at the Division I level was opening up to a more pro-style offense, that is, more passing. I remember that his inflexibility actually gave the opposing teams an advantage, because his playbook as head coach was the same year after year. So opposing head coaches and defensive coordinators could just study film from previous years and coach their defense on how to defend a particular play based on the offensive formation and the action in the backfield. This is common sense of course, something that Coach Streeter apparently lacks.
I just looked up Coach Streeter's overall record as head coach (see here). In the past 16 seasons, he's had a winning record just 4 times. Despite anyone who may want to call him a "legend" based on his long tenure, this record is anything but legendary; it's sub-par.
Now, let's contrast...
I just saw an article on philly.com, the headline of which was "Expect Kelly's Eagles to have new wrinkles in their offense." The first sentence of the article reads: "Chip Kelly has said since Day 1 that offense is personnel-driven." Then, just a couple lines later, Kelly is quoted as saying: "The biggest thing that you have to do is identify the skill-sets you have..." I made this same point numerous times as a college football player to my positions coach under Coach Streeter. Even as a student, I recognized that you don't plug players into a cookie-cutter system, which minimizes players' unique talents and makes your offense completely predictable. And this is a principle of leadership that should apply to any team, organization, or company: you take the time to assess and understand your talent, then you put your team members in the best possible positions to exploit those individual talents with the objective to meet your team's goals. It's not rocket science.
As author Warren Bennis wrote in his book "On Becoming a Leader": "The success or failure of all organizations . . . rests on the quality of their decision makers." Again, refer back to Coach Streeter's overall record over the past 16 years; does that significant sample size reflect success or failure? (As an important sidenote, Warren Bennis died two days ago (article here)). There are certain traits of a leader, which include being active (as opposed to reactive), experimental (as opposed to rote), and flexible (as opposed to rigid); these are all cited by Bennis in On Becoming a Leader. Whereas Coach Kelly exemplifies those positive leadership traits, Coach Streeter exemplifies the stagnant traits of a manager wearing a leader's mask.
I imagine that, at this point, at this late date, there is likely no way to get Coach Streeter to retire (or have him 'relieved of his duties'). If you're a high school player being recruited by, or considering playing for, Coach Streeter, my clear advice is: don't.
And for the vast majority of you who aren't being recruited by Coach Streeter, keep this leadership principle in mind when looking at your own career: spend as little time as possible in a workplace where management and supervisors are mediocre managers, rather than true leaders. You'll get sucked in; your self-esteem may take a hit when you don't fit into the cookie-cutter mold; and you may start to question your skills or abilities. If that happens, get the hell out of there! Go somewhere to work for real leaders, people who will support you, encourage you, and positively challenge you, based upon an assessment and understanding of your individual skills. Understand that good leaders make you better; bad leaders mostly waste your time, except to learn how not to be.
Friday, August 1, 2014
Free Gaza!
(Image Source)
All Philadelphia, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
I get the impression that Israel wants to wipe out Gaza. Seeing Israel's reckless bombing of shelters, hospitals, schools, and mosques in Gaza, I get the impression that -- if the world stands by silently -- Israel will commit genocide, will commit holocaust!, in Gaza.
All Two-Fifteeners, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
I get the feeling that Israel wants to completely control everything within Gaza, the opposite of political freedom! I get the feeling that Israel wants to step on Gaza's head, to forcefully keep Gaza at a subsistence standard of living, the opposite of economic freedom! I thought that the United States was in favor of a world system of free market capitalism, right? The United States has gone to war over such ideals. Yet the United States sits by idly as Israel commits economic strangulation on the people of Gaza.
All Americans, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
All Philadelphia, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
I get the impression that Israel wants to wipe out Gaza. Seeing Israel's reckless bombing of shelters, hospitals, schools, and mosques in Gaza, I get the impression that -- if the world stands by silently -- Israel will commit genocide, will commit holocaust!, in Gaza.
All Two-Fifteeners, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
I get the feeling that Israel wants to completely control everything within Gaza, the opposite of political freedom! I get the feeling that Israel wants to step on Gaza's head, to forcefully keep Gaza at a subsistence standard of living, the opposite of economic freedom! I thought that the United States was in favor of a world system of free market capitalism, right? The United States has gone to war over such ideals. Yet the United States sits by idly as Israel commits economic strangulation on the people of Gaza.
All Americans, pray for the liberation of Gaza!
Labels:
current events,
economy,
Philadelphia,
politics,
two-fifteener
Conflicts
It's amazing that there continues to be conflict all over the world. It was like that when I was a little kid. It's like that now. Why should we believe that it's ever going to be any different? Why is there conflict at all? One answer is that we have free will. Another is that, for all our similarities, we want to feel unique, so we play up our differences: nationalities, political parties, religions, skin color, et cetera. By following our own human nature and playing up our differences, rivalries and tensions develop. An 'us-versus-them' mentality develops. So that's another answer to why there is perpetual conflict throughout the world. Another answer is man's tendency toward sin and temptation: especially in the form of power (pride); this stems from man's natural insecurity, both materially as an animal that strives to survive at all costs, and emotionally as beings that compensate for internal insecurity by manifesting external power.
Another issue is that no relationship, nor anything at all for that matter, is static. The universe is dynamic. Your body and every person's body is dynamic. People change and thus that makes the relationship between and among people dynamic. I can think of easy examples in my own life right off the top of my head. In fact, it's a theme that's been on my mind a lot lately. I perceive that my relationship with my cousin Carlos isn't what it used to be or what it could be. When I write a short note or message to him, his responses are either stock and pithy (the latest one was simply "gracias primo") or he simply uses an emoticon (usually a 'thumbs-up' icon) to acknowledge my note without having to engage in any substantive dialogue. Assuming my perception is really accurate, I have no idea what's going on. Is he jealous because I got married? and/or because I've become a father? Did I slight him in some way the last time I was in Costa Rica? I have no clue. I suppose I can ask him what's going on. That would be the mature, logical thing to do. I think I may be afraid of the answer. But then again, the cold hard truth should always be preferable to living under a hazy assumption, shouldn't it?
Next I think of my relationship with my friend Paul. I still consider him to be my friend, though we're not as close as we used to be. If you look back at previous posts here, around the 2008 time frame, Paul is a major player. We spent a lot of time together. We traveled together, to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, to his parents' home in Tampa, Florida, and even to Costa Rica back in the day. I had a close relationship in those days, the late 1990s through the entire decade of the 2000s. I kept my mouth shut on certain things that concerned me, because I enjoyed my time with him. We had fun together. In a very real way, at a time when we were young adults, flexing our wings (if that's even a proper saying) and coming into our own, we were each other's family -- at a time when we needed to prove our individuality separate and apart from our own respective families. But as time passed, and perhaps when I became more comfortable in my adulthood, or perhaps wasn't having as much fun spending time and traveling with him, or perhaps when I had met other friends and thus didn't feel like I needed or depended upon my friendship with him -- whatever the case was -- I felt that I needed to communicate with him my concerns about his beliefs as expressed in words: using the word "nigger" to pejoratively describe a dark-skinned American of African descent, then a couple years later using the word "dyke" to describe a female mayor of some northern New Jersey city, either Hoboken or Jersey City. After each separate incident, I wrote a letter by hand and sent it to him, expressing my disapproval. Was this the right approach? I thought so. I still think so. But maybe not. Should I have talked with him face-to-face? My main takeaway, as I write this now, is that I shouldn't invest too much time in a friend with such negative, prejudiced, and outdated beliefs. In short: surround yourself with good people. But then I ask myself, who am I to judge him? Be soft on the sinner, but not on the sin! Did I practically give up a friendship for the foolish objective of proving a principle?
This tug of war between philosophical poles happens quite frequently in my head. I think part of it is the guilt -- justified or not -- at having effectively ended a friendship. I think the other part is a realization that life is not guaranteed to remain static, things will change, and this logically leads to a realization, whether explicit or implicit, that life will eventually end: after all these changes and changes, death shall come.
I've written previously that a break-up from a girlfriend is very analogous to these existential realizations. The relationship died. It's as if the ex-girlfriend is dead, although we know damn well that she's alive somewhere, probably with some other guy already. A break-up is a foreboding of death. It's a terrible feeling...to be reminded of one's own mortality. And yet we're reminded of it all the time, whether looking outwardly at all the conflict in the world, the people, the children!, being killed in war, or whether looking inwardly to our own failed relationships. What's the answer? I can't say I know, other than to keep on living, find something to believe in, put one's gifts and talents to the best use possible to be productive and self-fulfilling, and be with (or be open to be with) someone you love and who loves you.
Another issue is that no relationship, nor anything at all for that matter, is static. The universe is dynamic. Your body and every person's body is dynamic. People change and thus that makes the relationship between and among people dynamic. I can think of easy examples in my own life right off the top of my head. In fact, it's a theme that's been on my mind a lot lately. I perceive that my relationship with my cousin Carlos isn't what it used to be or what it could be. When I write a short note or message to him, his responses are either stock and pithy (the latest one was simply "gracias primo") or he simply uses an emoticon (usually a 'thumbs-up' icon) to acknowledge my note without having to engage in any substantive dialogue. Assuming my perception is really accurate, I have no idea what's going on. Is he jealous because I got married? and/or because I've become a father? Did I slight him in some way the last time I was in Costa Rica? I have no clue. I suppose I can ask him what's going on. That would be the mature, logical thing to do. I think I may be afraid of the answer. But then again, the cold hard truth should always be preferable to living under a hazy assumption, shouldn't it?
Next I think of my relationship with my friend Paul. I still consider him to be my friend, though we're not as close as we used to be. If you look back at previous posts here, around the 2008 time frame, Paul is a major player. We spent a lot of time together. We traveled together, to Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, to his parents' home in Tampa, Florida, and even to Costa Rica back in the day. I had a close relationship in those days, the late 1990s through the entire decade of the 2000s. I kept my mouth shut on certain things that concerned me, because I enjoyed my time with him. We had fun together. In a very real way, at a time when we were young adults, flexing our wings (if that's even a proper saying) and coming into our own, we were each other's family -- at a time when we needed to prove our individuality separate and apart from our own respective families. But as time passed, and perhaps when I became more comfortable in my adulthood, or perhaps wasn't having as much fun spending time and traveling with him, or perhaps when I had met other friends and thus didn't feel like I needed or depended upon my friendship with him -- whatever the case was -- I felt that I needed to communicate with him my concerns about his beliefs as expressed in words: using the word "nigger" to pejoratively describe a dark-skinned American of African descent, then a couple years later using the word "dyke" to describe a female mayor of some northern New Jersey city, either Hoboken or Jersey City. After each separate incident, I wrote a letter by hand and sent it to him, expressing my disapproval. Was this the right approach? I thought so. I still think so. But maybe not. Should I have talked with him face-to-face? My main takeaway, as I write this now, is that I shouldn't invest too much time in a friend with such negative, prejudiced, and outdated beliefs. In short: surround yourself with good people. But then I ask myself, who am I to judge him? Be soft on the sinner, but not on the sin! Did I practically give up a friendship for the foolish objective of proving a principle?
This tug of war between philosophical poles happens quite frequently in my head. I think part of it is the guilt -- justified or not -- at having effectively ended a friendship. I think the other part is a realization that life is not guaranteed to remain static, things will change, and this logically leads to a realization, whether explicit or implicit, that life will eventually end: after all these changes and changes, death shall come.
I've written previously that a break-up from a girlfriend is very analogous to these existential realizations. The relationship died. It's as if the ex-girlfriend is dead, although we know damn well that she's alive somewhere, probably with some other guy already. A break-up is a foreboding of death. It's a terrible feeling...to be reminded of one's own mortality. And yet we're reminded of it all the time, whether looking outwardly at all the conflict in the world, the people, the children!, being killed in war, or whether looking inwardly to our own failed relationships. What's the answer? I can't say I know, other than to keep on living, find something to believe in, put one's gifts and talents to the best use possible to be productive and self-fulfilling, and be with (or be open to be with) someone you love and who loves you.
Labels:
Cambodia,
Costa Rica,
español,
existentialism,
family,
Florida,
Hoboken,
Laos,
philosophy,
racism,
Tampa,
Thailand
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Date night and spending time with others
The weekend began on Friday evening with Jeannie and I going on our first date since the birth of Seva. We went to dinner at Audrey Claire, then drove to PPL Park to catch the second half of Crystal Palace at Philadelphia Union, then we drove over the Commodore Barry Bridge into South Jersey to hit up the WIF (Water Ice Factory) in Magnolia before heading back to pick-up Seva and go home.
The highlight yesterday was visiting Jeannie's friend, Sam, who had a small gathering at his home on Lincoln Drive. Besides Jeannie, Seva, and me, there were only 4 others, so it was a pretty low-key event. The weather was pretty nice, as it was on Friday too, so we sat on the deck out back. I asked Sam's partner, Shin, a lot of questions about his native Tokyo. And Jeannie and Sam reminisced quite a bit about their days in their international MBA program.
Before going to the gathering at Sam's, I found out from my friend Ronald that he will be visiting Philadelphia for one day in March 2015. I'm really looking forward to seeing him.
Today was a day of rest. I didn't set foot out of the apartment all day. I watered the plants, drank coffee, gave myself a haircut, took a shower, spent time with Jeannie's friend Veronica who came over for a short visit before she had to leave for PHL, read my book, talked on the phone with my sister, spent time with Jeannie's dad who was here for the day giving us a hand around the apartment, watched the movie Superbad on Comedy Central, ate a great dinner prepared by Jeannie and her dad (shrimp with garlic, cod, rice with coconut milk, and lentils), and spent a lot of fun time with Seva at the end of the night.
Well, Jeannie just passed by and she's getting ready to go to bed. Since I want the chance to spend time with her before she falls asleep, I'm going to wrap this up now and head up too. Good night, dear readers.
Friday, July 25, 2014
Saw Philadelphia Union vs. Crystal Palace at PPL Park, section 131, row M, seats 7 and 8, for $38.00 each, with Jeannie.
Monday, July 21, 2014
Tidbits
Since I married Jeannie, I have not removed my wedding ring from my finger, other than rarely fiddling around with it during a meeting or while watching tv.
Seva laughed for the first time tonight. It was a beautiful and amazing thing to see. While Jeannie was cooking mac'n'cheese (with tuna & peas) for dinner, I was playing around with Seva. While standing near the stove, I was holding Seva facing me, with her pelvis held against my mid-torso and her upper body angled away from my body, so she could look up at me. I periodically dipped down, while smiling at her and encouraging her. She responded positively and seemed to be having a good time. And then, she started giggling. She did it for just a couple of seconds after about a handful of the dips, then she didn't do it again. When I looked at Jeannie, she had tears of joy in her eyes. Like I said, it was a beautiful and amazing thing to see.
I also found out online today that there is a Seva Café right outside of Washington, D.C., in Alexandria, Virginia. We'll have to go there some day, maybe soon.
Jeannie and I went a couple nights ago (on Saturday, July 19th) to visit my friend Javi and his girlfriend Gina. We enjoyed a really nice evening of salad (made of kale, scallops, cashews), dessert (dates, figs, and sunflower seeds), moscato rosé wine, and coffee. Javi also played some music for us, first on his various flutes, then on his guitar. Jeannie had brought her guitar, so she played the only song she knows how to play, Blackbird (Beatles song), while Javi played one of his flutes. At one point, while Jeannie went into the bedroom to feed Seva, I was able to speak en español to Javi and Gina; we discussed politics in Latin America. All in all, we had a really great time. I hope to spend time with them again.
I've noticed that Seva now weighs more than the Baby. Speaking of the Baby, her right ear has been very dirty the last few days. I clean it out with cotton swabs, but it seems to get dirty again. And since I bring up the Baby, I should say that Rocky is doing well as always. This evening he rediscovered the toy mouse that he goes stretches forgetting about; he kicked it around for a while and really had a lot of fun.
Tonight at the Y, I did a chest/arms work-out. In my final set of bench press, I put up 195 pounds twice. In my final set of dumbbell curls, I lifted 35 pound dumbbells 8 times each arm. In my final set of incline bench press, I put up 135 pounds 4 times; that was at the very end of my work-out. Overall it was a very good work-out.
Oh, a couple days ago, on Saturday, I helped Jeannie's dad move into his new apartment here in Philadelphia. He's living just a few blocks away from Rittenhouse Square and he's no more than a short 8-minute walk from our place, so he'll be able to see Seva much more often. This is great not just for him, but for me too in the short-term as he'll be available to watch Seva for short periods of time when I need to run an errand or take care of something and also for Jeannie and me in the medium-term as he'll be available for babysitting services. I like my father-in-law a lot, so I'm happy to have him close by now.
Well, it's time to take out the trash and I should be winding down since I know Jeannie wants to go to start going to bed a bit earlier at night. I thank God for all blessings and ask for God's blessing, protection, and guidance every day always, but especially in these next handful of months, when there will be so much change.
Seva laughed for the first time tonight. It was a beautiful and amazing thing to see. While Jeannie was cooking mac'n'cheese (with tuna & peas) for dinner, I was playing around with Seva. While standing near the stove, I was holding Seva facing me, with her pelvis held against my mid-torso and her upper body angled away from my body, so she could look up at me. I periodically dipped down, while smiling at her and encouraging her. She responded positively and seemed to be having a good time. And then, she started giggling. She did it for just a couple of seconds after about a handful of the dips, then she didn't do it again. When I looked at Jeannie, she had tears of joy in her eyes. Like I said, it was a beautiful and amazing thing to see.
I also found out online today that there is a Seva Café right outside of Washington, D.C., in Alexandria, Virginia. We'll have to go there some day, maybe soon.
Jeannie and I went a couple nights ago (on Saturday, July 19th) to visit my friend Javi and his girlfriend Gina. We enjoyed a really nice evening of salad (made of kale, scallops, cashews), dessert (dates, figs, and sunflower seeds), moscato rosé wine, and coffee. Javi also played some music for us, first on his various flutes, then on his guitar. Jeannie had brought her guitar, so she played the only song she knows how to play, Blackbird (Beatles song), while Javi played one of his flutes. At one point, while Jeannie went into the bedroom to feed Seva, I was able to speak en español to Javi and Gina; we discussed politics in Latin America. All in all, we had a really great time. I hope to spend time with them again.
I've noticed that Seva now weighs more than the Baby. Speaking of the Baby, her right ear has been very dirty the last few days. I clean it out with cotton swabs, but it seems to get dirty again. And since I bring up the Baby, I should say that Rocky is doing well as always. This evening he rediscovered the toy mouse that he goes stretches forgetting about; he kicked it around for a while and really had a lot of fun.
Tonight at the Y, I did a chest/arms work-out. In my final set of bench press, I put up 195 pounds twice. In my final set of dumbbell curls, I lifted 35 pound dumbbells 8 times each arm. In my final set of incline bench press, I put up 135 pounds 4 times; that was at the very end of my work-out. Overall it was a very good work-out.
Oh, a couple days ago, on Saturday, I helped Jeannie's dad move into his new apartment here in Philadelphia. He's living just a few blocks away from Rittenhouse Square and he's no more than a short 8-minute walk from our place, so he'll be able to see Seva much more often. This is great not just for him, but for me too in the short-term as he'll be available to watch Seva for short periods of time when I need to run an errand or take care of something and also for Jeannie and me in the medium-term as he'll be available for babysitting services. I like my father-in-law a lot, so I'm happy to have him close by now.
Well, it's time to take out the trash and I should be winding down since I know Jeannie wants to go to start going to bed a bit earlier at night. I thank God for all blessings and ask for God's blessing, protection, and guidance every day always, but especially in these next handful of months, when there will be so much change.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Seva's Progress
Seva is almost 14 weeks old. And she continues to make progress, seemingly every day. Jeannie just mentioned to me that, earlier this evening (while I was at the gym), Seva did not cry at all during her bath, not at any point from beginning to end. This was a first. Apparently she is getting used to getting bathed. I think she even likes it now.
With that being said, though, there has not been one day in her short life so far in which she has not cried. She cries every day: out of hunger; because she has a dirty diaper; because she doesn't want to be laid down, but instead continued to be held; because she wakes up alone and wants attention; or sometimes simply because she is getting sleepy. A day will come when she will not cry at any point from when she wakes to when she goes to sleep for the night. I'm looking forward to that day.
Jeannie also wanted me to write here that Seva discovered our DirecTv remote control on Tuesday of this week, and she's been mesmerized by it ever since. The reason she likes it so much is that there is a part of it, near the middle, where there are buttons of several different colors (red, green, yellow, blue, orange, gray, and black) near each other. The colors obviously draw her attention. I witnessed it tonight for the first time. It was very cute and funny; she would just stare at the remote control and follow it with her eyes no matter where I held it.
Finally, as I wrote in a text message to my mom earlier tonight, Seva seems to be more vocal and more emotive these days, especially at times when both Jeannie and I are around and talking with each other. It's like Seva wants to join the conversation. It's funny and also amazing to see her continue to develop, albeit in small incremental steps, but on a daily basis. We've really been blessed. As I write this now, she's sleeping in her crib upstairs, our beautiful baby girl.
With that being said, though, there has not been one day in her short life so far in which she has not cried. She cries every day: out of hunger; because she has a dirty diaper; because she doesn't want to be laid down, but instead continued to be held; because she wakes up alone and wants attention; or sometimes simply because she is getting sleepy. A day will come when she will not cry at any point from when she wakes to when she goes to sleep for the night. I'm looking forward to that day.
Jeannie also wanted me to write here that Seva discovered our DirecTv remote control on Tuesday of this week, and she's been mesmerized by it ever since. The reason she likes it so much is that there is a part of it, near the middle, where there are buttons of several different colors (red, green, yellow, blue, orange, gray, and black) near each other. The colors obviously draw her attention. I witnessed it tonight for the first time. It was very cute and funny; she would just stare at the remote control and follow it with her eyes no matter where I held it.
Finally, as I wrote in a text message to my mom earlier tonight, Seva seems to be more vocal and more emotive these days, especially at times when both Jeannie and I are around and talking with each other. It's like Seva wants to join the conversation. It's funny and also amazing to see her continue to develop, albeit in small incremental steps, but on a daily basis. We've really been blessed. As I write this now, she's sleeping in her crib upstairs, our beautiful baby girl.
Labels:
family,
Jeannie,
love,
Seva,
weight-lifting
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
My Wife is Beautiful
I gave a hug and kisses to Jeannie as she was about to walk out the door to work this morning. She was wearing a black top and gray skirt and she looked absolutely amazing. She's a beautiful woman, inside and out, and I'm very attracted to her. I am so happy that I'm married to her.
As I write this, Seva is sitting in my lap, facing the computer screen. I'm so grateful to be a father. Seva is the product of my love for Jeannie, including everything I wrote above, and I'm just so happy that we're a family.
I'm happy for everything that is good in life. I also understand that sometimes there are people and situations that are not good, and that's okay too, but that it's best to limit or even remove those people and situations from one's life. There are some places where you belong and others where you don't.
As I write this, Seva is sitting in my lap, facing the computer screen. I'm so grateful to be a father. Seva is the product of my love for Jeannie, including everything I wrote above, and I'm just so happy that we're a family.
I'm happy for everything that is good in life. I also understand that sometimes there are people and situations that are not good, and that's okay too, but that it's best to limit or even remove those people and situations from one's life. There are some places where you belong and others where you don't.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Good Second Day, and the issue of Public Education
Today was a good second day at home with Seva. She had some really good time on her belly, during which she was really able to arch her back and hold her head up for a period of several minutes, without any problem or difficulty at all. She continues to show great observational skills, as she's clearly curious at all the thing within her immediate field of vision. Finally, she's showing more and more signs of recognition. For example, Jeannie and I went food-shopping at Trader Joe's tonight. Jeannie had Seva in the front-loaded backpack. At different points, I saw Seva looking at me in recognition, probably precisely because I wasn't holding her. And again tonight, just a few minutes ago in fact, right after Jeannie finished feeding Seva, Seva just stared at me in recognition, then when I started talking to her and making noises she responded with a smile of recognition.
Tonight, we watched two back-to-back Frontline programs on PBS, both of them excellent: first, Separate and Unequal, then Omarina's Story. Although each program was only 30 minutes long, each did a great job of concisely presenting the issues. In Separate and Unequal, the intersection of race and class in the area of public education in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. In Omarina's Story, a vignette of the challenges, both educational and class-related, of Omarina Cabrera, a teenage girl of Dominican descent in New York. Without getting into too much detail at this point and in this forum, I may very likely have the opportunity to serve as a member of a board of directors of a school, located in an urban, low-income neighborhood. To say that seeing these programs tonight was timely and apropos is pretty obvious. As I mentioned to Jeannie, the issues raised in the programs, particularly the first one, remind me of a book that I read a number of years ago: Savage Inequalities: Children in America's Schools by Jonathan Kozol. I'll have to take a look at the book again. I remember it was a very good read.
Tonight, we watched two back-to-back Frontline programs on PBS, both of them excellent: first, Separate and Unequal, then Omarina's Story. Although each program was only 30 minutes long, each did a great job of concisely presenting the issues. In Separate and Unequal, the intersection of race and class in the area of public education in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. In Omarina's Story, a vignette of the challenges, both educational and class-related, of Omarina Cabrera, a teenage girl of Dominican descent in New York. Without getting into too much detail at this point and in this forum, I may very likely have the opportunity to serve as a member of a board of directors of a school, located in an urban, low-income neighborhood. To say that seeing these programs tonight was timely and apropos is pretty obvious. As I mentioned to Jeannie, the issues raised in the programs, particularly the first one, remind me of a book that I read a number of years ago: Savage Inequalities: Children in America's Schools by Jonathan Kozol. I'll have to take a look at the book again. I remember it was a very good read.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Lightning and Progress
Today was Jeannie's first day back to work after three months of maternity leave, thus her first day at the office since early April. That meant that today was my first day as stay-at-home dad with Seva. I've had three preparatory experiences, though: once when Jeannie was feeling very overwhelmed and she went to stay at a hotel in Center City, another time when Jeannie stayed at a hotel overnight with her friend Marcella who was visiting us from out-of-town, and a third time when Jeannie went down to Washington, D.C. to spend the night with her birth mother who was in D.C. for a work-related conference. So, today wasn't something totally difficult or new or overwhelming for me. In fact, I enjoyed a pretty good day with Seva.
We danced while listening to music a couple times. And as I've stated before, when Seva isn't sleeping, it's very often that she likes to be held, so I held her a lot today, often with her head either on my shoulder or, when she falls asleep, her face sort of planted into my neck between my shoulder and cheek/chin. Seva definitely seems to like dancing; I'm not sure yet if it's the sound of the music or the motion that comes with dancing or a combination of both, but if she's not getting too sleepy she often lights up when we're dancing.
I tell ya, when Seva is awake and alert, without any pressing needs like food or a diaper change, she's a beautiful little girl. There are moments when she just seems happy to receive attention and those moments are great. I'm really happy to be a father.
Anyway, the other part of my title above is a reference to the pretty nasty lightning storm that we had tonight. I was at the YMCA, doing some lifting when the storm began. I had to run home in the rain. As I got home, the storm seemed to intensify, with more and more lightning in the sky. Our DirecTv signal was totally out, until it came on for about 20 minutes, just in time for 6abc to interrupt regular programming (The Bachelorette) with updates on the progress of the storm and warnings for what to do in the event of a tornado. In the meantime, I cooked pork chops (seasoned with sea salt and Cajun seasoning), while Jeannie made rice (with light coconut milk and water). Finally, the storm abated and we were able to watch the Bachelorette while eating dinner and while Seva sleep for a bit in her bouncy chair. Overall, I'd say it was a good day and good night.
We danced while listening to music a couple times. And as I've stated before, when Seva isn't sleeping, it's very often that she likes to be held, so I held her a lot today, often with her head either on my shoulder or, when she falls asleep, her face sort of planted into my neck between my shoulder and cheek/chin. Seva definitely seems to like dancing; I'm not sure yet if it's the sound of the music or the motion that comes with dancing or a combination of both, but if she's not getting too sleepy she often lights up when we're dancing.
I tell ya, when Seva is awake and alert, without any pressing needs like food or a diaper change, she's a beautiful little girl. There are moments when she just seems happy to receive attention and those moments are great. I'm really happy to be a father.
Anyway, the other part of my title above is a reference to the pretty nasty lightning storm that we had tonight. I was at the YMCA, doing some lifting when the storm began. I had to run home in the rain. As I got home, the storm seemed to intensify, with more and more lightning in the sky. Our DirecTv signal was totally out, until it came on for about 20 minutes, just in time for 6abc to interrupt regular programming (The Bachelorette) with updates on the progress of the storm and warnings for what to do in the event of a tornado. In the meantime, I cooked pork chops (seasoned with sea salt and Cajun seasoning), while Jeannie made rice (with light coconut milk and water). Finally, the storm abated and we were able to watch the Bachelorette while eating dinner and while Seva sleep for a bit in her bouncy chair. Overall, I'd say it was a good day and good night.
Labels:
family,
Jeannie,
love,
Seva,
weight-lifting
Thursday, July 10, 2014
Thursday Walkabout
Almost every day for about the past three months or so I've read the daily reading on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops website. For those not familiar with Catholic mass, these are the biblical readings used at Catholic churches around the country. A line from today's Gospel reading really struck me:
And as long as I'm on the topic of quotes, I turn my attention to a backward-looking perspective to a forward-looking one as I quote a tweet from Pope Francis earlier today and similarly apply it to my life now:
Whoever will not receive you or listen to your words -- go outside that house or town and shake the dust from your feet.This line resonated with me, since it feels so on-point with my feelings about my current job. I've written about this extensively before, so speaking of dust, I don't want to shake out the rug again right now and start a coughing fit. All I'll emphasize is, regardless of fault or causes, as that quote relates to my feelings on [...], it strikes a chord with me.
And as long as I'm on the topic of quotes, I turn my attention to a backward-looking perspective to a forward-looking one as I quote a tweet from Pope Francis earlier today and similarly apply it to my life now:
Do not be afraid to cast yourselves into the arms of God; whatever he asks of you, he will repay a hundredfold.Changing the topic and focus of this post, though, I'll share that Jeannie and I took a walk earlier this evening. We walked to Sister Cities Park to catch the tail-end of a low-key concert there. Then, we walked up to the lawn directly across the street from the Free Library of Philadelphia, where a play was being performed al fresco. On the walk home, we ran into two people, both connected to [...], the first the chairman of the [...] board of directors, who was out for a walk with his college-aged daughter. Then, closer to home, we ran into a former [.....] advocate/intern, who recounted to us the very long tale of the duplicitous actions of her boyfriend over the past 9 months or more. Hearing it from an outside perspective, it seemed obvious that she should cut all ties with him immediately. But I have a strong sense that she will continue to give him chances, or else she wouldn't have talked about him so much, and she certainly wouldn't be considering -- as she shared with us -- that she's looking to buy a house only two blocks from him. I pray that she comes to her senses soon, hopefully without getting hurt any, or at least too much, more.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Prayers of a Faithful
I just finished watching an episode of Frontline on PBS titled "Secrets of the Vatican." It raised a lot of interesting issues and gave a nice snapshot of how those issues eventually brought Pope Francis to the papacy. I am a Catholic. After watching the program, I'd like to offer the following prayers:
- May God bless and protect Pope Francis.
- May God bless, be with, protect and heal the victims of child sexual abuse by clergy.
- May God bring the perpetrators of child sexual abuse to justice.
- May God lead away from sin (in the form of coerced and manipulated selfish sexual gratification) any clergy, or any person, who considers sexually abusing a child, and lead them toward self-awareness of their weaknesses and awareness of how their considered actions would hurt innocent people.
- May God lead away from sin (in the selfish love of money and power) all mafia, whose criminal actions hurt other people, and lead them toward productive labor in the service of others.
- May God lead away from sin (in the form of pride, power, and arrogance) the Roman Curia and lead them toward humility in the service of others.
- May God bless the Church, that is the people who are the Church, to maintain its faith in God, despite the sins of others.
- May God bless our Archbishop, Charles Chaput, with the fortitude and sense of justice to act decisively and justly in response to any and all allegations of child sexual abuse by clergy in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia.
- May God bless the new priest, Father Estéban, at St. Charles Borromeo, with faith in action, with wisdom to learn and grow, with strength to persevere through any and all challenges, and with love of God to guide him throughout his life and priesthood.
- May God bless me, that I too may practice what I preach and lead by example to the best of my human ability in God's service.
Friday, July 4, 2014
Seva's first roll-over
Today, July 4, 2014, at almost exactly 12:00 p.m., Seva rolled over for the first time from her tummy (face-down) to her back (face-up). Jeannie and I were both here to witness it as it happened. Seva was in her pack-n-play downstairs. It was pretty cool to see. As we've been noticing, Seva's ability to hold her head up and arch her back have been improving. And as I've been saying all along, her legs are really strong.
Anyway, time for me to make some coffee now.
Anyway, time for me to make some coffee now.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Cycling in the Heat, and Thoughts of a Summer Past
I took a bike ride this morning. I left at 11:10am and returned at 11:46am, making it a 36-minute ride. Most of my ride was along the Schuylkill River Trail. After just checking Google maps, I estimate the ride to be about 10 miles. During the time that I rode, the air temperature was at or near 90 degrees and the dewpoint was high, around 72 degrees. By the time I got back home I was sweating like a racehorse. But it felt good, really good.
As I wrote recently, I feel like my holistic health is greatly improving: physical, mental, spiritual. There are two main components to it: 1) more time: to be with my wife and daughter, to lift weights and take bike rides, and to read, among other things; and 2) being away from the office. I had lunch with my good friend Madhu yesterday. One of the first things he said to me, when we sat down to eat at Sansom Kabob House, was that I looked better than I have in a while (or something to that effect). I told him that I feel better than I have in a while, and I shared very briefly why. It's good to know that, in such a relatively short time, I've been able to feel better and move in a positive direction. It's what I was very much hoping for, and I thank God so much for this and all blessings.
Meanwhile, as a note on a related element, I've put a bit more effort in the past couple days to do more reading. After a couple sessions, I'm now 200 pages into the 348-page (this edition, at least) Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez. It would take a pretty big push, but I would love to finish the book by the end of this coming weekend.
I have intentions -- and already the first book in line -- to change the direction of my reading. Immediately before the birth of Seva, I figured that I would only have the time and mental capacity to read fiction -- something that could be read in short spurts and would be a welcome escape from the rigors of early parenthood. Now on the third book of the three books I bought just before Seva's birth, I'm ready to read topics of more substance, non-fiction, and related to my field of work and the skills necessary to excel in it. I won't share the title of the book that's currently in the batter's box (since I haven't begun it yet), but I'll say that I'm looking forward to reading it, thus giving me added incentive to finish Love in the Time of Cholera as soon as possible.
Anyway, as I'm writing this, the sky is a weird color -- the sun is setting in the west but the sky is covered in low clouds as rain is coming down fairly steady. I just stepped outside on to the back patio to check on the kittens (as I'd recently mentioned in a post here). Earlier this afternoon I checked on them due to the strong heat. I saw three kittens huddled together in a matted clearing, then their mother cat came from my right, hissing at me -- more as a warning than out of any viciousness -- while slightly to the left of the huddle of kittens came another two crawling underneath the wooden fence separating our property from the neighbor's yard behind us. In total, there are five kittens: two mostly gray with black stripes, two with white patches and patches of gray/black, and one totally black. It was really cute to see. But as I just checked them now, all five are sort of huddled near each other, completely soaked and still getting pummeled with raindrops, while their mother cat is nowhere to be seen. I hope the kittens make it through this rainstorm. I wish there was something I could do right now, but I don't think there is. Since they don't realize it at all, Rocky and the Baby should be thankful to be indoors, where it's safe, warm, and dry.
Now, on to a totally separate topic, for some reason today I thought about the last "girlfriend" I had before meeting my wife. I put the word girlfriend in quotes because I can't say that I consider all past relationships as being at the girlfriend level. I don't know of any further classifications in the English language that allow for further distinction. I consider that I had three relationships with girlfriends, as I define that term, before I met and began my relationship with my wife. My relationship with Adaliz was a relatively short, 4-month relationship between my relationships with my last girlfriend and with my wife; although our relationship was sincere while it lasted, I don't consider it a relationship that rose to the level of girlfriend, mainly due to the length of the relationship. Adaliz was (really, is, but I'll speak in the past tense since the relationship is over) a beautiful girl. She had long straight dark brown hair, light brown eyes, and beautiful naturally tan Latina skin, being of half Salvadoran and half Venezuelan descent. Strangely (or perhaps not so, as assimilation and acculturation go), she spoke very, very little Spanish. She was very much into poetry and, somewhat on a broader scale, into art. In fact, one of my favorite memories with her was a date to the Modern Museum of Art in New York City. As I said, she was a visually and aesthetically beautiful girl. As with so many relationships, especially from the man's perspective, it was Adaliz's physical beauty that really drew me to her. I also loved her name, something about it made me desire her even more. Our relationship began just fine. We met at my friend Paul's wedding in Key West, Florida. At the reception, I found myself looking for, and then at, her quite frequently. Near the end of the reception, I knew that I had to say or do something, so I took the opportunity when she passed by me to say, "Are you going out [after the reception]? I hope to see you out there." I ended up seeing her shortly after, at a bar where nearly everyone went after the reception. I approached her when she was at the bar ordering a drink and I started a conversation; things started from there and we ended spending the rest of the night together, until I finally went back to my hotel room around 3am. During that time, she and I left everyone behind and went bar-hopping, during which time we talked and got to know one another. When ended the night on the roof of her hotel, overlooking the main drag in Key West, kissing and talking still with one another. I finally pulled myself away to go back to my hotel room, as I already mentioned. After that weekend, we kept in touch and followed through on plans to see each other. She lived in Hoboken, New Jersey, while I lived in Philadelphia of course. So, it was a long-distance relationship, something I vowed to never do again after the lesson I learned from the end of my relationship with Cherise. But due to my attraction to her, I was willing to overlook that at the beginning. The distance also helped to slow things down, or at least keep things from getting too passionate, which was a good thing. Looking back on it now, although I wouldn't have needed the time to reach this conclusion, it was a relationship characterized largely by sexual passion. I believe that we both cared about each other, for sure, but the reality was that our time together was less about what we saw or what we talked about than what we did together. It was a perfect cure -- for what it was worth -- from the esteem hangover that I was feeling from the miserable end to my relationship with Ileana. It really was, as I smile even now typing this. Sounds good, right? Well, as time went on, there were two issues that emerged, oddly and ironically both tied to lessons learned from previous girlfriends. First, I got tired of the distance, which I mentioned already was a main lesson from my relationship with Cherise. Second, I began to notice that Adaliz had a hot side, no surprise after having experienced and felt her passion in bed, but the prospect of a relationship with another young, hot-tempered, or less-than-even-keeled Latina was the last thing I needed after the misery and heartache I suffered at the hands of Ileana. I began questioning to myself the relationship with Adaliz and about two weeks before I ultimately ended it, I asked Adaliz for some time to think things over. That totally infuriated her, which further supported my second concern above, thus paradoxically driving me to call the end of the relationship almost right away after her reaction. What she may not have realized fully was that the emotional scars from my last relationship were still very fresh, and with my self-esteem already in a much healthier spot (due to Adaliz herself), I knew that I deserved much better, or at least different, than an immature temper. I have no qualms now with the decision I made to end the relationship with Adaliz. As fate would have it, I met my wife only the very next weekend after I ended it with Adaliz -- which any onlooker would say was a rebound, but I'm now married, happily so, and we have a beautiful daughter. If there's anything I'll always remember and cherish from my relationship with Adaliz, it was the passion, something that cannot be invented or feigned, and something which in its own right is a blessed experience from God. I believe that firmly with full faith. That's why, despite the brevity of the relationship, and any observer's writing it off as simply a rebound relationship, it was worth much more than that. I can say that because I was the one who lived it and I am the one who remembers it and cherishes it now.
Labels:
books,
Cherise,
culture,
exercise,
Florida,
Hoboken,
ileana,
love,
restaurants,
Rocky and the Baby,
Schuylkill River
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Critique of U.S. Men's National Team elimination from the 2014 FIFA World Cup
Three criticisms of the United States Men's National Team performance today against the Belgium Men's National Team and overall in the 2014 FIFA World Cup:
- After his initial quick goal against Ghana, U.S. captain Clint Dempsey was largely ineffective.
- U.S. forward Jermaine Jones was slow as molasses, beaten on runs and breakaways time after time. And he was on the ground constantly today. We need to replace him with someone stronger, more resilient, more able to absorb blows but continue to stay on his feet. Oh, and someone fast as lightning.
- U.S. midfielder Michael Bradley -- for all the talk about his "crisp" passing -- did not deliver. His ball-handling was off. His passes were certainly not crisp. We need to replace him with someone with poise, with good vision, and most importantly with that "quarterback" skill and mentality (to use an analogy with American football) that is so valuable to any successful sports team.
Three classes of people who will be happy that the United States Men's National Team lost today:
- United States social/cultural conservatives who hate the social/cultural liberals that love soccer.
- Americans of Latin American descent who, out of some combination of anti-nationalism and racism, hate the U.S. men's national team.
- Most people in the rest of the world.
Monday, June 30, 2014
My mom
More often than not, I can't stand my mom. I can only take her in small, infrequent doses. Our best conversations are by telephone, since she actually listens and pays attention. In person, she is easily distracted and generally doesn't listen. In fact, in almost every single in-person conversation with my mom these days, I eventually say something to the effect of: "as I just mentioned a few minutes ago..." or "I already answered that question." Thankfully, she's usually a better listener with others. But even that being said, I find myself cringing or feeling shame when I can visually observe her fail to pay attention to someone else -- I can actually see that she's not listening to what they're saying. What should I do in that situation? Say something to her, thereby putting her on the spot? I just let it happen. I don't say anything. I know that it's a combination of anxiety/attention deficit, along with good old-fashioned self-centeredness, that leads my mother to completely zone out of the conversation and into her own thoughts, usually in advance of what she's about to say next.
Do I act this way? Possibly, but I sure hope not. When I began my career as a paralegal at [...], I prided myself on my own development into a good listener. It was something that helped my clients to gain trust in me. And in my personal life, it helped me to quickly develop close relationships with the women that I met. At this point in time, though, to be honestly self-critical, I feel that I've lost that skill to a certain degree. As a paralegal I met with a high volume of clients on a daily basis; that helped to hone that skill to a highly developed level. Now, as a lawyer, with a much lower volume of client contact and somewhat less frequency, I feel that my level of this skill has diminished somewhat.
Anyway, back to my mom, one of her downfalls is that she always talks as if she knows with absolute certainty what she's talking about, which wouldn't be so bad if it weren't so often on topics for which she has no real experience. One of her favorite lead-in lines is: "they say...", to which I'll sometimes challenge her by asking "who is 'they'?" In other words, she has no citations or authorities for her very bold opinions.
As a perfect example, my mom was very confident in a conversation with Jeannie today about how an IRA, like a 401(k), can be rolled-over into a Roth IRA. Jeannie and I just met with a financial adviser today! Jeannie told my mom that an already existing IRA cannot be rolled-over into a Roth IRA, unless of course the titleholder is willing to pay a large penalty fee. Jeannie had to say this twice to my mom before she heard and understood her. This example is typical of my mom. She will be not just confident but stubbornly positive about her position/opinion, even if she has no backing for it. Fortunately, Jeannie has a ton more patience than I do; it's one of the qualities I love most about her, since she certainly counterbalances me on that point.
Finally, to wrap-up this post, I'll admit that the impetus to write it was something that my mom said to me right before leaving earlier today. As she was about to walk out the door, I came upstairs to bring a Gatorade bottle that she had left here from her previous visit. I told her that she should take it since it was hers and I held on to it for her as she had said that I should. My mom replied pointedly by saying "that's not true." I felt angry right away and told her that I asked her to take it with her last time when she left, but she said then that I should keep it for her for the next time she came to visit -- which happened to be today. She repeated "that's not true." I felt very angry and asked her, "are you calling me a liar?" at which point Jeannie, who was already out the door with Seva, quickly said to my mom, "okay, let's go," in an attempt to ward off any kind of argument. I wasn't in the mood to deal with it anyway, so I turned on my heels, went directly downstairs, and poured out the rest of the Gatorade down the kitchen sink, and recycled the plastic bottle. This final vignette is another example of my mom: in her mind and memory, she can never be wrong. It's so maddeningly annoying. For which reason, I said that more often than not I can't stand my mom.
Analysis of my relationship with Ileana, and how it still effects me today
With the benefit of the passing of time and the diminishing of strong feelings, I can more easily see my relationship with Ileana more clearly. There was a turning point in there somewhere, much much sooner than the actual end of the relationship. As with so many relationships, I'm sure there wasn't a specific day that there was a turning point. But looking back through old emails as mile-markers, I'd say it was somewhere between November 19, 2010 (when Ileana and I went to see George Lopez live at the Academy of Music) and March 29, 2011 (when we returned from three weeks in Costa Rica). If either one of us had any sense (me) or any courage (her), we should have ended our relationship after returning from that trip.
The fact of the matter was that I was 33 years old at that time -- ready not just for a relationship, but for marriage -- while on the other hand Ileana was only 24 years old -- fresh into post-college 20s and ready to be free. The problem was that I was too myopic to the possibility of life and love after Ileana and (frankly) too obsessed with her to have the sense to end the relationship, despite the consistent recurring waves of dissatisfaction and unfulfillment from her. For me, at that time, ending the relationship wasn't even an option.
The problem for Ileana was that she was caught between a rock and a hard place. The rock: the fact that she was only a couple years out of college and she wanted to live the "typical" life of a young woman in her mid-20s, proving her independence to herself by renting her own apartment, paying her own bills, working for herself, and in all other respects to be free and independent. The hard place: the prospect of a guaranteed relationship with a good guy with a good career, something that I know for a fact her own mother emphasized in her mother's support of me as Ileana's boyfriend. Ileana was caught between those two irreconcilable options. At times of difficulty and indecision on her part, I pointed this out to Ileana; thus, she can't say that she didn't understand the issue.
And the whole thing was a classic catch-22. Ileana would go through major ups and downs (I could speculate as to the source/cause of those mood swings, but I won't do any more than put it out there for the reader to guess). When she was in an anti-relationship phase, I would feel sad or scared that the relationship was going to end and that I had to "work harder." (I laugh at that now). I would "try hard," which would push her away even further, since that was a threat to her freedom. Then, I would get the message and back off, which would then play into her insecurities and she would come back to me. I also suspect that she came back out of guilt -- for having abandoned the relationship for whatever period of time and towards the end of the relationship (or perhaps much sooner) for having cheated on me with other men. So her guilt and insecurities would bring her back to me -- the shittiest reasons for a woman to ever come back to a man. And the whole thing continued like that for months. It was an emotional disaster, especially as more and more time went by.
As I wrote above, one of us should have ended the relationship at the year-and-a-half mark, when we returned to Philly from Costa Rica. That trip was so horrendous that I haven't been back to Costa Rica since then. It left such a sour taste in my mouth -- I didn't have any fun with Ileana. The whole trip was a stressful debacle. Her lack of any sense of humor or ability to have fun killed the trip. And playing myself into that serious mood and emotional tenor, I was very critical towards Ileana during that trip. As I said, it was a disaster. We should have broken up then, but my lack of sense and her failure to overcome her fears kept us in a paralysis for the next year -- requiring that we each do some really shitty things to each other to finally wake our senses to the reality of our dysfunctional, toxic relationship.
As I look back now, I can live with the lessons learned from that failed relationship. I'm happily married now, with none of the issues that marred my relationship with Ileana. What does bother me is that around that time frame of late 2010 to early 2011, the negativity and seriousness and lack of sense of humor of Ileana -- and my relationship with her -- began to effect my mood and humor. And I do not think I've fully recovered my own sense of self since then. It's something that I've talked about recently with my wife, Jeannie. I read through old emails and facebook posts from before November 19, 2010 (to pick a mile-marker): I was funny, I was light-hearted, I didn't take myself too seriously. But after March 29, 2011 (again, simply to pick an easy mile-marker), I'm not so funny, I'm angry much more than I care to be, I often have little patience, and I'm quite serious (and I have a lot more gray hair). In short, I can't stand what I've turned into. I know that negative and challenging experiences at work have played to a certain degree into this transformation, but I place the main onus and cause on my relationship with Ileana. And that's the part that still makes me angry (ironic, right?).
I really want a fresh start. I pray to God for another transformation, this time a positive one, a return to basics, to the real me: someone funny and light-hearted and witty and sarcastic and playfully immature. Fortunately, God has blessed me with a wonderful wife, who makes me laugh sometimes and who laughs at almost all of my silly jokes. I've also been blessed with a beautiful daughter, Seva, who has already helped to bring out the playful side of me, and will hopefully continue to do so as she gets older and turns from a baby into a little girl. I've only been free from my toxic and hurtful relationship with Ileana for just over two years. I know that I shouldn't expect changes to come so soon. But I hope (and pray to God) that, come 2015, 2016, and beyond, my true self shines forth and I can reclaim my happiness in life. I trust that these were hard lessons that I needed to learn, to value the importance of commitment and reciprocity in a mutually respectful and mature relationship and to finally grow up. Still, I just want to be happy, not just in the moment that I do something silly or enjoy a fun moment with Jeannie or Seva, but deep down in the core of my being. I'll be patient and hope that God hears my prayer and answers me.
In the meantime, dear reader, I hope this post clarifies to you who I am these days. If you know me and I've hurt you in any way over these last three years, I hope you understand better where I'm coming from. And I hope that you will forgive me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Labels:
Costa Rica,
faith,
ileana,
Jeannie,
love,
Philadelphia,
Seva
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