Save yourselves from this corrupt generation

Today was a pretty good day.  For most of the work day, I kept my office door closed and my nose to the grindstone.  My main objective yesterday was to make as much progress as possible in returning telephone calls to clients who'd left voicemail messages to me.  My main objective today was to make as much progress as possible in working on a healthy stack of physical casefiles that were on my desk.  By the end of today, I had both objectives nearly completed; I have about 5 clients to call-back and about 4 physical casefiles to review.  I was able to leave work pretty early, at 5:35 p.m, and meet Jeannie and Seva at Liberty Place.  From there, we walked to Miel, where Jeannie got a chocolate croissant.  And then we walked to Rittenhouse Square, where we were able to sit on a bench and relax for a solid half-hour to 45 minutes.  As I mentioned to Jeannie, the temperature was near perfect.  It felt good to be out of the office, with my wife and daughter, while the sun was still out, in one of my favorite places in the world.

I just checked today's reading (Acts 2:36-41) and really liked one of the lines from the first reading: "Save yourselves from this corrupt generation."  I think about my generation and I wonder: are we corrupt?  If so, what makes us corrupt?  I think here in the United States, and more and more so abroad, we've been and continue to become materialistic.  As an example, I know that my friend Bill's wife, Nancy, insisted on a huge house in the suburbs, even though it was (from my understanding) beyond their financial bounds.  The idea of going deeply into debt for the sake of affording property merely to feel good about oneself seems silly to me; its like a teenage boy insisting on borrowing $200 to buy a pair of sneakers just to impress others.  I also think this culture has too strongly valued individuality and short-term gratification; this has manifested, among other ways, in a high divorce rate, which reflects the individual's happiness over the individual's commitment to something bigger and greater than him or her.  I also think that our culture, especially here in the United States, has become too focused on labels and categories to favor certain groups over others.  On this point, I agree to a certain degree with many conservatives that feel that minorities are being given preferential treatment.  I think this is especially true, ironically enough, in liberal organizations, which strongly favor women and persons of African and Latin American descent (blacks and Latinos, in common parlance).  I think history and popular culture have inculcated the American public with a deep sense of modern guilt, which manifests in babying and/or glorifying minorities, which is not necessarily a sin in itself, but in some situations actually manifests as resentment or even borderline hatred of men and persons of European descent (men and whites, in common parlance).  It's almost like saying that, because someone's great-grandfather lived at a time of racism (whether he was actually racist or not is not important), we should not give any advantages or recognition to this white man now.  I think it's led white men to feel defensive and insular in the areas of work, business, and residence where they predominate.  I think these white men and their closest family, friends, and sympathizers largely make up the Republican Party.  And because they're becoming more and more outnumbered, they're becoming more and more defensive.  And those with an imbued sense of modern guilt are loving it.  But is this right?  Is this something our culture should be proud of?  I believe it's dangerous to let the pendulum swing too far back the other way.

Anyway, I'll end this post by noting that Rocky has jumped up on to my lap and the Baby is crouched on a step about two-thirds up on the staircase to my right.  I love these guys so much.

First Week of Fatherhood

It's been a blur.  My sleep schedule has been completely haphazard, almost always leaning towards going to sleep very late into the night and thus getting up very late in the morning (if not the early afternoon).

In your first two or three days of life, Seva, you barely opened your eyes and when you did it was only for a second or two.  In the last few days, though, you've opened your eyes more and more, and those moments which have turned into minutes have been precious.  I'm pretty sure that you recognize me when you look at me.  That makes me feel really good and makes me look forward to our future.

During this first week of fatherhood, I've finished two books: The Journey to the East by Hermann Hesse and The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway.  Both books being short, they were perfect for this first week, when I needed some easy-to-digest prose fiction.  Both books, though simple on the surface, were deep and thought-provoking in their own way.  The Journey to the East obliged me to ask myself whether, in any journey including life itself, faith is more important than reality.  And The Old Man and the Sea reminded me that endurance in the face of all opposition, even one's own perceived weaknesses, can be noble.  I hope that those two qualities -- faith and endurance -- characterize my role as father.

I've also noticed, dear Seva, that you love to be held.  Sometimes you'll be crying, but then your mother or I pick you up and you immediately calm down.  We've also noticed that you absolutely cannot stand having your arms restricted in any way when you're swaddled.  Which reminds me: sometimes when you're sleeping, you have a "hallelujah" moment when you suddenly and unexpectedly raise both arms in the air above your head; it's pretty funny to see.

Another point of pride and happiness from this past week was finally being able to go back to church.  I went by myself to Good Friday mass at 4:00 p.m.  Then, you, your mother, and I went to Easter Vigil mass last night at 8:00 p.m.  I did the fifth reading, which was Isaiah 55:1-11.  Your mother told me that I did a great job reading, but I was pretty loud.  I'll try to remember next time not to stand quite as close to the microphone.  At the beginning of the mass, Father Ed announced to everyone there that the youngest member of the church -- at only one week old -- was there, which meant that everyone who wasn't there had no excuse not to be there; he said your name to the whole congregation, while your mother was holding you and I waved my right hand so everyone could see who Father Ed was talking about.

As I write this post, I've been drinking a glass of Callia Alta, 2012 vintage Malbec.  It's not that great, but there's still something quite romantic about writing while drinking coffee or wine.  Also, as I type these very words, the Baby is sitting on top of the printer/scanner to my left, watching my fingers tap the keyboard.  I just took a break to scratch the Baby's chest, while she sits in her typical statue pose when she's really tired.  I love her and Rocky very much.

Anyway, I ought to go to bed now.  Buenas noches, estimado lector.

Dear Seva

Dear Seva,

You were born on Saturday, April 12, 2014 at 8:39am at Pennsylvania Hospital, 800 Spruce Street, 3rd floor, labor/delivery room #9, in the great city of Philadelphia.

But let me back up a few steps.  My last day at work had been Tuesday, April 8th.  Although I was supposed to go into work on Wednesday morning, I had been feeling demotivated and to be honest somewhat depressed at the thought of going into work, and in addition your mother had two appointments with the midwife, at 11:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m., so I decided not to go in to the office and instead spent the day being with your mother.

Your mother's first appointment, at 11:00 a.m., was a non-stress test (NST), for which I was not allowed to go back, since it was conducted in a room where other expecting mothers could be (although there were no others there at the time).  I took the time to get a coffee at a sidewalk cafe across the street from Washington Square, reading a book, while waiting for your mother come out.  When she joined me, we walked to a restaurant on Chestnut Street to get some lunch.  Then, we went back to the medical building for her next appointment at 2:00 p.m.

Your mother's second appointment, at 2:00 p.m., was a check-up with the midwife, who conducted an examination of your mother.  After checking your mother, the midwife predicted pretty confidently that you'd be born either the next day (Thursday) or Friday.  With that information, I decided (as I had been leaning anyway) to take off the rest of the week from work to be with your mother.

I've written in previous posts about those two days, so I won't go into too much detail here.  I'll just say that I encouraged your mother to walk a lot, to hopefully encourage childbirth and thus your arrival to this world. Your mother had several rounds of Braxton-Hicks contractions, so we knew that things were moving forward.  We were both very excited to meet you, knowing that you'd be joining us any time.

The whole day Friday passed by, though, without any real action.  So, your mother and I settled in for the night.  We cooked a late dinner of spaghetti with meatballs and spent most of the night on the couch, watching television.  Funny enough, we watched the movie Due Date on TBS.  Then, towards the very end of the night, around 1:00 a.m., your mother started getting contractions that seemed different than the Braxton-Hicks contractions.

I went to sleep at 2:00 a.m., knowing that Saturday would be a big day.  Your mother went to her own bed, where she thinks she may have slept a little bit, but she's not sure to this day.  Before falling asleep, I said a prayer, asking God to guide me to balance love and support for your mother on one hand with the firmness and discipline to direct your mother throughout labor and delivery.

Your mother woke me up at 4:30 a.m.  I could hear her down the hall, breathing very heavily.  She yelled out to me directly that it was time to go.  I got up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and quickly went downstairs to fill up a plastic Gatorade bottle with water from our Brita water container.  Meanwhile, your mother was strongly urging me to hurry up the whole time.

We went outside to the car, which we'd strategically parked directly across the street from our apartment and which we'd already packed in advance.  With no traffic whatsoever on the streets at that time in the morning, I drove us to the hospital, where we arrived at PETU (the perinatal evaluation and treatment unit, I think it stands for) on the third floor some time between 5:00 and 5:15 a.m.  I left the car parked in front of the main entrance to the hospital, locked, but with the hazard lights on.  It would stay there like that for the next four-plus hours.

Once in the PETU, your mother and I were basically alone for the next 2 hours while they said they were prepping a delivery room.  But I'm pretty sure it was really a change in shifts.  A nurse would come in every half-hour or so to check the monitors hooked up to your mother and just to generally check on your mother's progress.  For about 90% of the time, though, it was just your mother and me.  I guided your mother to breathe and stay focused.  In between contractions, when your mother would continue to look at me, I would tell her to close her eyes and rest her head on my arm; I told her to rest while she could, before the next round of contractions came.

Near the two-hour mark, around 7:00 a.m. as I can recall, your mother urgently told me to get the doctor, saying that you were coming.  I walked outside our room, and saw a circle of nurses and resident doctors sitting around in a circle.  It looked like they were eating food or drinking coffee, probably at the end of their shift, but I couldn't tell for sure.  I told them that your mother was ready to go into labor and we needed some help.  The resident doctor came into the room and examined your mother again (as he had when your mother first arrived); he agreed that progress had been made, even in that relatively short amount of time.

Some time at or around 7:00 a.m. they took us to the delivery room down the hall.  They took us to room L9, as I can remember.  Your mother was in full-on labor at that point.  I stayed by your mother's side throughout the whole process, holding her hand and coaching her as best as I could.  The midwife finally arrived, although I can't say for sure at what time, probably around 7:30 a.m. if I had to guess.  The midwife was a young woman with a very warm and supportive disposition.  I felt better when she was there and I think your mother was very happy that the midwife was there; I think if there was anything holding back your mother from giving birth, the arrival of the midwife was like a figurative green light for your mother.

I'll never forget that your mother's water broke at 8:00 a.m. on the dot.  When it happened, your mother just announced it in a matter-of-fact kind of way.  From that point on, we were definitely in the home stretch.  Your mother was lying on her side, almost always holding one of my hands, and most of the time looking at me eye-to-eye.  Upon the midwife's instruction, your mother lifted her top leg upward and held it from the back of her knee.  Seeing that it helped, I grabbed your mother's leg from the front, just below the knee, and held it up and open.  And that's how we remained, while your mother pushed and pushed and pushed, while breathing and breathing and breathing.  I coached your mother by telling her firmly, while looking directly into her eyes, "breathe!" "strong!" "steady!" "good!" "exhale!" and just repeated those words in different combinations over and over again.  In the final five minutes or so, your mother would scream in exhalation at the peak of her contractions, and that was when I knew she was in the most pain, but also making the most progress.  As I said, your mother was only in this final phase for only five, or perhaps at most ten, minutes.

You joined us, Seva, at 8:39 a.m.  It was an all-natural birth -- no drugs, no pills, no shots, just the old-fashioned way -- and almost the whole time until the end it was just your mother working and me doing my best to guide and encourage her. Your mother did a great job and I'm so proud of her.

Since the midwife noticed that there was meconium in the amniotic fluid, the nurses had to take you, immediately upon your birth, to a table on the opposite side of the delivery room.  It put me in a somewhat awkward position, since I wanted to remain at your mother's side to make sure that she was okay and so she knew that I was continuing to support her, but on the other hand I definitely wanted to see you and be with you.  I did my best to walk back and forth between your mother and you.

When the nurses sucked the fluid out of your mouth, you let out your first cry.  It was the happiest, most beautiful moment of my life.  I felt tears of joy well up in my eyes.  I was so beyond happy to be a father.  And so our relationship began at that moment and, God willing, shall continue for many, many years, if not forever.

Your mother and I were transferred to a post-delivery room, room 664 to be exact, on the 6th floor of the hospital, where we stayed for the next couple days.  The rest of that first day, Saturday, you, your mother, and I just rested and enjoyed our first hours as a family.  This had been our plan from the beginning.  Slowly, over the course of the day, we began notifying people by text message and email (your mother on her Samsung Galaxy S4 smart phone and me on my iPhone 4S smart phone).  People were very, very happy to hear that you'd finally made your appearance in the world.  And I can't tell you how many times I heard that people loved your name (I'll have to write that story in a separate post soon).

The next day after that, Sunday, April 13, 2014, we allowed a very limited number of visitors.  Your mother and I originally didn't want anyone to visit until after we returned home, but there were some people who were eager and completely insistent to meet you.  Right after we returned to the room from a lactation class, your Aunt Jess was there, ready to meet you.  Later, your Grandpa came to meet you.  And shortly after that, your Mita, along with Eric, came to meet you too.  Everyone was so happy to meet you.  You mostly slept throughout all the visitors; you were calm and content on that second day of life.

That night (and I write this as much for my own memory), since the hospital cafeteria was closed, I went out by myself a couple blocks up Spruce Street to Varga Bar.  The high temperature that day was an unseasonable 81 or 82 degrees Fahrenheit, so by that time of night, around 9:00 p.m., the air temperature was perfect.  The doors and windows to the restaurant were wide-open.  After I ordered my kobe burger (according to their website: "lancaster county aged cheddar, applewood smoked bacon,
caramelized shallots, organic greens, heirloom tomato, fries"), I sat there, looking across 10th Street to Kanella restaurant, taking in the aura and ambiance of their lights, the exposed brick of their interior walls, and I was in a complete state of euphoria.  From the weather to the feeling to my state of being in that moment, everything in the world seemed perfect.  I consciously thought and reflected that I don't deserve to deal, any more than necessary, with any negativity or naysayers in this world; and I hope to God, Seva, that you learn and know the same thing.  You deserve the very best of this world, which you'll have to work hard for of course, but I do not want you to ever settle for any relationship or workplace or situation that diminishes your sense of self-worth and dignity.  You are a beautiful girl, woman-in-the-making, and your mother and I love you with our whole heart and soul.

After you passed some tests (hearing, jaundice, etc.) with flying colors the next day, Monday, the hospital began preparing you for discharge.  Your Grandpa and Carol came for a visit, to give us a hand packing up.  When we finally walked out of the hospital around 1:00 p.m., I was holding your mother's hand with my left hand and holding you in your car seat with my right hand.  We walked out on to the sidewalk of 8th Street, your first breaths in the outside world, as a family all hand-in-hand.  It was a wonderful, iconic moment that will always remain in my memories, and something which I hope you can visualize some day when you read this.

We arrived home shortly thereafter, before 2:00 p.m., on Monday, April 14, 2014.  You met Rocky and the Baby very soon after getting home.  And now, only three days later, we're still in the sometimes difficult process of adjusting to our new life together.  Your mother has forgone a lot of sleep, which in tandem with some swirling hormones, has led to a few bouts of crying.  I've done my very best to reassure her that we're all here, we're all alive, the sun will rise tomorrow, and these are only the first of many challenges that we'll undoubtedly face, and overcome, as a family.

I could write on and on about all the details from these past few days . . . And now, after going upstairs to see your mother and our friend Katy (who's here visiting with her daughter Grace), you're actually in my lap right now!  As I write this, I just looked into the eyes of your 5 day-old self and told you "I love you," and whenever you happen to finally read these words, please know that I love you now and always, my little girl.

I Need to Be My Best Self

When I first came out of law school, I was known for three things:
1) my intelligence,
2) my commitment to serving others, and
3) my ability and willingness to take on any authority.

During my first two to three years as an attorney at [...], I strongly and consistently demonstrated all three qualities.  Over time, though, the negativity and attempts, intentional or not, to wear away my self-esteem began to effect me.  As with anything in life, when there is no passion or desire, one's effectiveness becomes dulled.  In the same way, feeling let down by [...], the reciprocal began to come true: I began to let down [...]; classic action-reaction.  With my passion and desire waning, my effectiveness as an attorney began to dull.  For the past year or so, I've become a lesser version of the lawyer that I can and should be.  And as is true with any relationship that is not making you a better person, I've begun to question why I should continue in this relationship...

I look back and see the three things I was known for when I first came out of law school.  With those three qualities, especially when I'm at my best, I can go anywhere and work for anyone.  So why stay at [...]?

I want to be the best version of myself that I can be, not just for myself, but because by being less than I can be, those whom I serve are not getting the service they deserve.  I want to put myself in a position where I feel strong and confident on the inside, in my own self-esteem, so my best qualities, including the three listed above, are freely and naturally demonstrated.  I need to feel good about myself, so I can do not just good work, but the best work possible.

The Countdown is On

The clock is ticking backwards towards the birth of my daughter.  I don't know how much time is left, but it feels like we're getting much closer.  More on that below.

Just a half-hour ago, I watched the end of the movie Rudy.  As I predicted, the end of the movie brought me to tears.  As I told Jeannie a little bit earlier in the movie, it touches me so much to see someone love something so much that he's willing to work as hard as he did to make his dreams come true.  On top of that, it really touches me when all his family and friends are there and you can see the pride in their eyes, the love for him in that moment when they witness his dream coming true.  Even now writing this here, tears are welling up in my eyes.  God hear me!  Please guide me in the direction of my dreams.  Please lead me to something that I love so much that I'm willing to work extra hard to make my dream come true.  Please God, this is something I wrote about in my law school application essay, asking for the tool (i.e. a law degree) to help others.  Now that I have that tool, and experience using it, help me God to take it to the next level.  I sense and know that there is more out there for me to do and ask your guidance to take me there.  And not only that, I want to make my family and friends proud.  I want to be surrounded by people who love me and support me, positive energy.  I pray for that, God.  Please hear my prayer.

Now to the update on the expected arrival of my daughter.  Earlier this morning, her mucus plug broke.  Throughout the day she's been having mild, yet seemingly more and more consistent contractions.  I'm no doctor and I have no experience with this kind of thing, but my instinct tells me that we'll get through tonight, but tomorrow may be a big day.

We went out for walks three times today.  First, we walked to our landlord's house a few blocks away to put some mail in his mailbox.  Second, we walked to Walgreen's on South Street, where Jeannie got some items related to nursing, after which we walked to the ATM for my bank, then turned around to walk home.  Third, we did a circuit in the late afternoon, just to make sure that Jeannie was on her feet and moving for one last time before settling in for the night.

During our first walk, we ran into Bernadette from church, who crossed the street to give us each a hug and chat for a few minutes.  During our second walk, we saw another woman from our church, who waved and talked with us for a minute from across the street, while she was sitting on the front steps to her house.  It was nice to see a couple people we recognized; I like the feeling of community that we're slowly building here.  I hope to God that we continue to play our part in building a community where we live.

Jeannie and I are both excited to meet our little girl.  We hope she comes soon.  We're really looking forward to meeting her.  I know that the feelings I felt while watching Rudy will pale in comparison to the feelings of love when I meet my daughter.  May God bless Jeannie and our daughter, give them the strength to get through what will be the transition to bring our girl to the outside.  And I thank God for all blessings.

A Very Nice Day, but a Day of Foreboding?

The dateline for this post will read Thursday, April 10th, but since it's just past midnight, I'm actually writing at the end of the day on Wednesday, April 9th.  Overall, it was a good day.  It was sunny with blue skies, pretty windy at times, but a high temperature of about 65 degrees.

I took a sick day today to spend the day with Jeannie, especially for her two medical appointments.  I drove her to the medical building at 8th & Walnut Streets, then found a parking spot on 9th Street just south of Locust.  When I got upstairs, the receptionist told me that Jeannie had already been taken back for her NST (non-stress test) and I wasn't allowed to go back.  I told the receptionist, if she could, to tell Jeannie that I wasn't going to step outside then.  I took the elevator back down and walked over to Washington Square, where I got a large coffee to go from Talula's Daily.  I went out to grab a seat at one of their sidewalk tables, sitting in the direct sunlight, with a seat facing Washington Square.  It was wonderful.  While drinking my coffee, I read half a chapter in The Four Signs of a Dynamic Catholic, which I got from Father Ed the other night that I visited him.

Eventually, Jeannie got done with her appointment and she came down to meet me.  Since we just so happened to watch the movie Unbreakable last night, I took advantage to walk her, without any preamble, to see Dream Garden, the incredibly beautiful mosaic in the Curtis Center, which was featured in a scene in that movie where Bruce Willis and Robin Wright are at a restaurant eating dinner.

From there, we walked over to Chestnut Street to look for food and I presented to Jeannie the choice between three contiguous restaurants: Prime Burger Company, Aqua, and Rosa Blanca.  After reviewing all three menus from the sidewalk, Jeannie settled on Rosa Blanca.  We liked the vibe inside.  As the hostess walked us back to our table in the back left-hand side, I saw Good Day Philadelphia co-host Mike Jerrick sitting at one of the booths up front.  The food was pretty good.  Jeannie and I both got sandwiches; mine was called a Calle Ocho.  I also ordered tostones on the side.  Jeannie drank a mango milkshake with our meal.  After the meal, I got a cafe cubano to go, which we shared while sitting on a bench in Washington Square before going back in for Jeannie's second appointment at 2pm.

The afternoon appointment was another weekly follow-up with the one of the midwives, who conducted a cervical examination.  The results were very promising; the midwife told us that Jeannie is nearly 4 centimeters dilated, about 80% effaced, and the baby's head is at about a minus-1 or minus-2, all very good signs that childbirth should be imminent.  In fact, the midwife explicitly stated that, though there is no guarantee, she predicts that Jeannie will go into labor "tomorrow or Friday."  Jeannie and I were both happy to hear that and we're hopeful that the prediction comes true, so the next 48 hours may certainly be momentous.

After the appointment, we drove home so I could drop-off a couple things, then we drove to the post office so Jeannie could mail some tax forms to her/our accountant.  Next, and as the final highlight of our day, I drove us to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, where we "ran" (more like slowly jogged) up the steps to Art Museum, then walked back to the bottom again.  Then, when a group of young people, perhaps high-school kids, lined up to race to the top, I spontaneously joined them in the race (and I believe I may have actually won, or at least place in the top 3).  After walking back down to join Jeannie, we walked up to the top together and then went into the museum.  This idea to climb the steps to the art museum, in an attempt to naturally "induce" labor, came to me from Belinda, a receptionist at [...], who told me that she did the same thing with her daughter, who was then a few days beyond full-term with her son, Simaj, who happened to be born the next day.  Coincidence or not?  I don't know, but I hoped that the same technique could encourage the birth of our baby girl within the next day or two now.

Jeannie and I enjoyed walking around the art museum, focusing our walk in the wing on the back right-hand side.  By total chance (or was it?), we saw Jeannie's good friend, Veronica, who lives in San Diego (!), who so happened to be there on an official tour with a group of work colleagues.  It was so random and so crazy that we must believe that it was meant to happen.  It was really hard to believe that we actually ran into her there.  So on that note, dear reader, I want to remind you to have faith.  Always.  God will bring you surprises and happiness, sometimes when you least expect it!

Rainy Monday

It was cloudy and overcast all day today.  It drizzled lightly for most of the afternoon through the evening and it continues to rain as I write this.  I didn't go into work today.  I felt completely demotivated, despite what I wrote yesterday.  Bottom line: I'm unhappy and dissatisfied with my workplace.

To add on top of that, the pressure is building with the birth of our baby girl.  In spite of my own advice to Jeannie to not get sucked into the seeming significance of the due date last Thursday, April 3rd, I find myself wanting and hoping more and more with each additional day that the baby is born.

Then, to add on top of that even more, Jeannie has been sad, telling me that she has been crying at least once per day for the past few days.  She says that part of it is hormones, which is almost certainly true.  But, as I suggested, and she agreed, the idea of becoming a mother is making Jeannie miss her own mother, who passed away in late January 2013, more and more.  I know that Jeannie wishes that her mother was still here to help her through this experience, and also to share in the happiness of the coming of our daughter.

So things these days are sad.  When they should be really happy.

I spent a couple hours hanging out this evening with Father Ed.  I got a lot off my chest and he did a great job listening and giving some perspective by way of sharing some stories.  I'm very glad that I was able to hang out with him, but it didn't take away all my negative feelings.  I continue to pray to God to get me through this phase and break through to the other side.

I've gotta pull my shit together, if for nothing than for my own pride and even more importantly for my own health.  My plan is to wake up at my normal time tomorrow and go right to the gym for a short, basic work-out, nothing heavy, nothing wild, then come home, eat breakfast, and go through my normal morning routine.  I'm hoping that I can get into a good routine, where I'm adding a physical element to my self-care.  I've been very good about reading (intellectual element) and I've been pretty good about going to church (religious/spiritual element), but I haven't gone to the gym at all since two or three days before my wedding date.  My intuition tells me that if I can begin this new routine with modest expectations of just getting there for a half-hour per day every morning, then I'll have enough stress relief to get through the immediate future.

Oh yeah, and the birth of my daughter should also bring some happiness too!  I have faith that I can get through this; I must have faith.  God help me.

Moving my state of mind forward

This is something I've been thinking about for a week or so, if not at a deeper level for bit longer.  I've got to let go all the negativity that I feel from work.  Feeling this way isn't going to change anything, except harm my emotional health internally and, by extension, my relationships with others.  Thus, I want and hope to move my state of mind forward.

Since my meetings with R. and A. several months ago, in which I clearly stated my dissatisfaction (yet nothing has changed), my focus has been doing my job and sticking to myself.  So, externally, I was just getting my shit done and minimizing my interaction with others; not necessarily the best tack, but at least I was getting my work done and not interfering with anyone's work or causing dissent in any kind of way.  Essentially, I've been a silent minority.

The problem with that role is that, with continuing internal resentment, my silence was eating away at me.  When I'm at my most natural state, I'm dynamic and I have a personality and I participate.  Thus, being something, for months on end, different from my true self can only negatively effect me.  Think about suppressing yourself and how that would effect you over the course of time.  Again, the comparison (which I've made in previous posts) to an abusive relationship is apposite.

But getting back to the point of this post, I realize that I must move on to the next stage here: don't take it all so seriously; and find meaning in this challenge of life.  In this regard, there's an analogy to be made with my last big relationship, with Ileana.  At the end of it, I felt like a victim, I felt that I had been wronged and taken for granted and I felt angry at letting myself get to that point.  After the break-up and during the course of my short relationship with Adaliz, I slowly began to come out of my shell, I began to have fun and live in the moment, I began to realize that life moves forward and it's not all so bleak, and there are lessons that I can learn from the trials of life, and although Ileana certainly made mistakes, it wasn't worth my energy to be angry at her, since it was all "meant to be."  Was this response a form of self-preservation?  Perhaps.  But I also think it was the shifting of perspective.

It reminds me of some advice I just gave to my friend Lorge last weekend when he was telling me about someone in his life (I won't get into the story here) who he has been trying to help.  After listening to his story, I told him that the person he wanted to help was basically a "passive receiver" in every attempt to help him: he was receiving advice or being told what to do; he was not actually being asked to explain or actively justify his decisions, he was not challenged to do something.  He was not being an "active doer."  And people just giving him advice or criticism was keeping him in that passive receiver role.  Thus, not helpful.

Applying that to my situation now, I want to shift my focus from what I'm unhappy about and begin letting go.  Instead of directing my energy toward (internally) pinning blame and criticism on people at work -- which I feel justified that I can certainly do -- I'll now rather accept them as they are, and understand that I just don't belong there.  Instead of blaming the people, I'll "blame" the situation.  Every team or organization has a culture, and for whatever reason, I fit in a bit more when I first started there, and now I don't fit in.  Maybe it's that they've changed.  Or maybe it's that I've changed.  In either possibility, I should accept it and move on.

A few years ago, I tried to "change" the unit by creating questionnaires to re-define and re-focus our priorities and the objective of our work.  Knowing that the paralegals were unhappy, and seeing that the intake system was not effective, I challenged the unit to erase all assumptions and I asked everyone to think about what changes we could make, to make our work more efficient and to make ourselves happier.  I thought I was doing a great thing, leading the unit down a fresh path that it hadn't been, and where it needed to go.  But at the end of the process, there was no will from our leadership -- from the supervising attorney S. to our executive director A.  When it came time for action and change, no one really cared.  One of the paralegals at that time, Rebecca, wrote a card to me, encouraging me in my efforts to stay positive.  In contrast, two of the other paralegals, Mary Ann and Belinda, were very negative and cynical and told me to quit wasting my time, because nothing was going to change.  Looking back now, history shows that Mary Ann and Belinda were right -- nothing changed, for the lack of leadership mentioned above.  Change only came later, when someone "above" the unit, someone associated with executive director A. came in to impose change from the outside, to overcome supervising attorney S's complacence: J. P.  He came in and made changes and got all the credit for making those changes.  And he continues to make changes at [...], to the chagrin of the union, who feels that he's acting unilaterally and without proper authority.  But with A.'s blessing, he can do it and no one is going to stop him.  Objectively speaking, he's done more to change the organization than anyone else in 10 years, and I give him credit for it.  But what management is missing -- is completely oblivious to -- is the reaction this illogical organizational structure naturally has on the rest of the organization, particularly those stakeholders who feel that their voice that has been silenced, a role that's been minimized.  It's a very top-down organization, more so than ever before.  As I've written previously, power is concentrated in about 2 or 3 people.  What's total bullshit from my perspective is that I tried to make these changes, and not only did these changes not get made when I brought them up, someone else later brought them up and got all the credit for making those changes.  Then why am I even here???  To do my work, rack up numbers, and keep my mouth shut?  It sure seems that way.  If you have talent on a team, then take it for granted or fail to exploit it in a positive way, what does that say about your leadership, what does that say about your management style???

And now, instead of caring so much about mismanagement, I'm just gonna leave it where it is.  It's like I told Jeannie at her last job, when people began to leave: "they're all jumping ship" due to mismanagement from the CEO and COO of that company.  She refused to believe me initially, because she still bought in to the people and the party line, she gave them the benefit of the doubt, she wanted to believe.  But later, when Jeannie's voice (a very intelligent one, at that) was repeatedly disregarded, Jeannie understood what I had observed from early on.  And she herself jumped ship, and it was the right decision.  She eventually went somewhere where she is appreciated and exploited for her skills and talents in a positive way.  She feels validated.  I know she's proud of her work.  And she feels happy, which is really, really important in this life.

I'm going to keep doing good work, because my clients depend on me and because I have pride in what I do.  But I'm not going to worry about supervision and management any more; I'm not going to be the boyfriend who wishes for more from the girlfriend who ultimately doesn't really care about him.  They're people just the same and I can only assume that they're doing the best that they can.  I would hope that they have nothing against me and so, I'm not going to worry about it.  I've made my attempts to be a leader, but I was rebuffed; I can't say that I didn't try.  If my skills aren't required there, then so be it.  The sun will still rise tomorrow.  They can run their organization however they see fit, that's their right since that's their job.  But I also have the right to the pursuit of happiness.  As I tell many of my clients, I'll let go of what's not in my control, and try to figure out and focus on what is.  My goal is to be happy, plain and simple.  And that means being my true self, the best version of myself, something I haven't been at work in a long time.

Another Friday night in the 215

Last Saturday night (March 29, 2014), I got an unexpected message on facebook from my old college friend, M. Lorge, saying that he and his wife were in Philly, but since the Phillies game was rained-out, they were free and wondering what I was up to.  After checking with Jeannie, who was 39 weeks pregnant at that point, I invited Lorge and his wife to come by our place for a visit after they ate dinner.  We had a great time.  I was so happy to see my old friend, who I hadn't seen for about three years before that.  We hung out for over 5 hours, from 7pm until almost 1am, and went through nearly 3 bottles of wine (Jeannie didn't drink).  It was great catching up with Lorge and after we'd caught up and also warmed up a bit on wine, we got to the fun part, which was going over old stories from college.  I definitely intend to write as many of those stories on to this blog, but I'm going to hold off for now.  The point for now is that it was a great night, and I felt the happiest I've felt in a while.  Although Lorge doesn't live more than about an hour away, it's tough because he has a young son and three stepsons, in addition to running his own business.  I wrote him a follow-up message earlier this week, saying though that we really need to get together at least twice per year.  And he replied to agree.  I hope to see him again some time this summer.

I've made a lot of friends over the years and I recognize (since I've said it before) that things change and thus relationships change and evolve.  For instance, I'm not as close with Paul and Evan as I was when I was in my early to mid 20s, for reasons related to different socio-political beliefs and also due to class.  It's sad when some relationships change.  But it's also part of life.  And some people, even though they're close by and they're good people, I just don't fully connect with, even though I don't quite know why.  A perfect example of this is Corey, here in Philly.  He's a good guy, and I enjoy catching up with him every once in a while, but I also don't see myself becoming better friends with him than I am now.  I can't say what it is; maybe the slight difference in age is enough to create that relationship gap; maybe it's that I never got a great feeling from his wife, Laura; I can't say for sure, but I'll accept reality.  Coming back to the point, though, I'd love to deepen at least one or two friendships.  Besides my wife Jeannie, I want to feel like I've got someone who's got my back, someone I can hang out with and connect with, and someone to look forward to seeing and spending time with.  With Jeannie and I starting a family, is that going to be difficult?  I don't know.  As I sit here at the computer, and look to my right down the length of this floor, I see the glass doors leading out to the patio.  I think back to last summer, when we had a handful of get-togethers, and I believe it's very possible that we can invite friends here to hang out and spend time.  The main X factor now is how we'll feel doing that after the birth of our baby girl, which can happen any day now.

Last night, Jeannie and I had a date at Seafood Unlimited.  We took a cab there.  We started ordering drinks: a lemonade for Jeannie and a glass of malbec for me.  I ordered a shrimp bisque to start, which was good, although not warm enough.  Then, for my entree, I had a crab cake with cajun remoulade, and a baked potato and mixed vegetables on the side.  Jeannie had seafood empanadas and a salad.  Overall, it was good, but not overwhelming.  I liked the vibe, though, especially since I know that Jeannie didn't want to go anywhere too fancy.  The Sixers game was playing on the television behind the bar (they beat the Celtics).  The lighting throughout was a warm blue-green.  And of course the front room was characterized with the beautiful Isaiah Zagar mosaic mural (see here for photos).  Overall, it was a nice time.  We took a cab home and spent the night watching the movie Joe Kidd, starring Clint Eastwood, while flipping to the Oklahoma City Thunder vs. Houston Rockets game during commercials (the Rockets won, behind a huge game from James Harden, though Kevin Durant tied Michael Jordan for 40 consecutive games scoring 25+ points).  It was a good night.  I thank God.