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.

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.

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.

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.

Short Post for a Late Night

I just got off the phone with my sister Jess, so I don't have much time to post this before midnight.  So I'll keep it short.

Seva has been smiling socially more and more.  She definitely recognizes Jeannie and me when she sees us.  I don't really have any point of reference, but I've been very impressed with the strength of Seva's legs.  She can stand up straight, with just a little reinforcement, more for balance than anything else.  She also strongly prefers to be held rather than left to sit alone; I wonder if this is a precursor or indication of her level of attachment to Jeannie and me.  I guess we'll find out over time.

A stray mother cat recently gave birth to kittens in our small strip of backyard.  It's a slim, mostly gray tabby cat with four kittens.  The mother cat picked a little cove under a small tree-like weed growing against the gray wooden-slat wall at the back of our property.  For the past few days, I periodically peer over the edge of the wall surrounding our sunken patio to check on the status of the mother cat and her kittens.

Costa Rica played England to a 0-0 draw today.  And thus, Costa Rica won their group.  By doing so, they're now scheduled to play the runner-up of another group, Greece, in the first game of the next round.  Jess just told me that game is scheduled to be played this coming Sunday afternoon.  I'll certainly be watching.

I've been making very slow progress with my latest book, Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez.  The book is chock-filled with many interesting and flavorful details.  The writing is exquisite and top-notch.  But perhaps my attention span, though probably longer than many my age and younger, is still shorter than required for this type of book.  I blame my generation and the culture I live in (as I type this with my tongue in cheek).

Finally, just for posterity's sake, I just want to reiterate that I love Rocky & the Baby very much.  I still love petting the Baby and playing with Rocky.  I love when they "talk" to me by meowing.  I love observing them when they're napping peacefully.  I love that they've been my companions since February 2005.  I love them so much and I'm so thankful that they're a part of my life and I'm a (very major) part of theirs.

Almost Time for the Memorial Day Weekend...

Once again, being in a rush to get to work this morning, I didn't pack my lunch as usual.  So I had to go out for a late lunch around 3:30 this afternoon.  I went to I-Green, where I had beef hand-drawn noodle soup.  It was excellent: the noodles were unmistakably fresh and homemade, the beef was delicious and well-seasoned, and the broth was very good.  On top of that, my waitress was so friendly that I thought she actually wanted to be my friend and a waiter who came by to tell me all the details about the history of hand-drawn noodles in China and their preparation there was so informative that I eventually wanted him to leave to let me enjoy the meal (I say this humorously).  And to top it all off, the whole lunch cost $7.50.  Oh, and they gave me a complimentary frozen yogurt cone at the end.  I will definitely be going back to I-Green!

I've decided to pour myself a glass of malbec, Callia Alta, 2012 vintage, to accompany me on the rest of this writing.  As I raise my glass to you, fine reader, I say "salud!"

Also as I write this, the Baby is curled up on my desk, in the back right corner, easily within arm's reach so I can pet her as I please.  I can hear her heavy breathing, as she looks at me out of the corner of her right eye.  I love the Baby (and Rocky too)!

I was happy to hear that Jeannie and Seva took a walk to visit Mita this afternoon.  I know that Mita is ecstatic to be a grandmother.  And I'm pretty sure that she would see Seva every day if we allowed her.  I get the sense that Mita restrains herself to respect Jeannie's and my wishes to be a family.  But I'm sure she was thrilled to get the surprise visit from Jeannie and Seva today.  It really makes me happy -- and I thank God -- that I've been blessed with such a wonderful wife and beautiful daughter.

After all the hurt and heartache that I went through at the end of my relationship with Ileana, and even more acutely through the painful break-up and immediate aftermath, I can say that God took me out of something negative, unhealthy, and toxic to bring me to something positive, healthy, and loving.  To all the people at work, but especially the young Haverford paralegals, I'd love to say: I got out of an abusive relationship (from your fellow alumna) and now I'm in a healthy relationship!!!  I'm more mature than to advertise my relationship, however, especially for such selfish, publicly-displayed vindication.  Besides quietly writing about it here, I'm not going to shove it in people's faces.  Inwardly, though, I take great pleasure and daily gratitude that God helped me out of something so bad to bring me to something so good.  Thanks be to God.

I made myself a promise that I would not return to Costa Rica until at least one of my family members there visits us in Philadelphia.  None of my family there knows of this internal promise.  And I know that for much of my family there the idea of coming to the United States at all is a near impossibility.  But there's some family that could do it.  And although Jeannie would love to go to Costa Rica, I'm committed to keeping my promise.  I'd rather visit Panama, where I've never been, than go to CR at this point.  The only thing that could possibly change my mind is when Seva gets old enough to develop enough curiosity in her roots to want to go and I (we) feel that the trip would benefit her as a form of experiential education.

I'm enjoying reading Mexico City Blues by Jack Kerouac, but it's so seemingly disjointed that it honestly doesn't seem to have a message.  I'm not sure what the take-away is, other than digesting a literary genius's nonsense.  But I'll read it because my attention span is not so great these days and it's sometimes important to read nonsense to be reminded of the absurdity of life and the importance not to take it too seriously all the time.

I just farted; it's rank.  Very high sulfur content.

Finally, as a sort of confession, I'd like to admit that I made a major blunder when I tried to pull the old switcheroo between two girls, one who I was dating, Priscilla, and her best friend, Joelle.  This was around 2010, if my memory serves me correctly.  I remember being out on the town with Evan and Corey, perhaps that last time that the three of us hung out together.  We were at Parc, where we met Priscilla and Joelle.  I was the only single one among the three of us at that point, so I somehow got both girls' phone numbers and I think they both got mine.  I was definitely attracted to Joelle right from the get-go.  But within a day or two after meeting, Priscilla took the initiative to reach out to me and show interest.  And that's the precise juncture where I made a mistake; I should have reached out to Joelle, the girl I actually liked, before responding and then playing into -- for the next four months (argghh) -- Priscilla's interest and advances.  Before I knew it, I was sucked in to a relationship that I didn't want.  I'm sure many guys, and even many girls, have gone through this experience.  But towards the end of it, my desire towards Joelle began to develop into something approaching an obsession, which made me irrationally believe that I could pull a switcheroo.  Even just writing about it now, I feel silly and a bit ashamed.  How the hell did I think I could pull that off?!  Well, when I finally got the courage to call Joelle for the sole purpose of seeing if she wanted to hang out, I found out very shortly thereafter that she immediately called Priscilla (her best friend!) what I'd done and that effectively ended the relationship with Priscilla and blacklisted me from any contact, let alone relationship, with the girl who I'd been attracted to from the beginning.

Oh well, as history would have it, I guess a relationship with either girl was never meant to be.  So be it.  Ironically, only about two months ago, Jeannie and I were in line at the Ikea in south Philadelphia when I saw Priscilla with her mother.  I felt like a total fool, as rightly I should have felt.  In retrospect, I should have approached her to beg her forgiveness for my inexcusable handling of the situation and for hurting her feelings in any way; I probably would have been met with a slap to the face, or maybe not since she was with her mother.  Come to think of it, her mother probably would have slapped me in the face.  So maybe it was best that I just played dumb and waited a few minutes, as I did, to give Jeannie the short version of the story.  That was the best I could do in terms of a confession at that time.

Monday night in the 215

I didn't bring lunch to work today, so I walked over to Reading Terminal Market.  That place has so much character.  I feel like a tourist when I'm in there.  There's just this feeling of history and culture -- and a certain kinetic energy and vibration there -- that makes it feel alive.  Maybe precisely because I was coming from the mundane, neutral (if not sometimes negative, energy-sucking) vibe at work, there's a certain escapism to being in Reading Terminal Market, from the buzz of all the people working there to all the people passing through.  I also think the variety of foods is some sort of subliminal reminder that there's a whole world out there.  That's a feeling I love to have.  It reminds me of Pike Place Market in Seattle or Jean Talon Market in Montreal or maybe even Camden Town Market in London, all places I've been in my travels.  Again, there's something transcendentally cultural about a good market, and Reading Terminal Market is up there with the best.

After work, Jeannie and Seva came with me (after a typically jam-packed ride on the 17 bus) to Neighborhood Books, so I could re-load on reading material, having just finished Blindness by José Saramago around the middle of last week.  Since the shopowner was closing -- we walked in just a few minutes before 7pm -- I quickly browsed the fiction section to come up with a couple good finds: Mexico City Blues (242 Choruses) by Jack Kerouac and Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez.  As I told the shopowner, I'm only looking for fiction these days that I can digest in short bits, since Seva is only five weeks old and thus my capability to concentrate on reading is not at its sharpest.  I need material that I can easily digest.

Finally, I just want to memorialize my feeling at this moment that life is pretty good.  I've been blessed with an amazing wife.  And in turn we've been blessed with a beautiful, healthy daughter.  Not to forget Rocky and the Baby, who've been my family for nine years now and whom I love dearly for their faithful love and companionship.  It's not as if we're without our challenges, don't get me wrong.  But I'm thankful for my home life.  As I write this, the Baby is below me to my left, making soft meow noises and gently requesting attention.  For all of this, I thank God.

Report on Mother's Day 2014

I've been meaning to write nearly every day for the past week, but either I've had other things that I had to do or I was too tired to sit down and write.  For the former, it almost always involved holding Seva and caring for her.  For the latter, it was a result of the former.

But here I am on a Tuesday night, hoping to finally catch up on this diary, to document my life over these last few days before it begins to fade into oblivion.  And these are days that are important to remember, since they're Seva's first days of life.

Two days ago was Mother's Day, Jeannie's first as a mother.  After morning mass at St. Charles Borromeo -- at which I read the rosario to the whole parish from the lectern before mass began and at which Jeannie received her first communion -- the three of us came home to our usual morning routine: I ate breakfast, made the bed, and watered the plants, while Jeannie ate breakfast and cleaned some dishes.  Although the plan at that point was to hit the road to meet up with Jess and Mita and Eric, I told Jeannie that I needed a nap before we left (and I thought she needed one as well).  So Jeannie handed Seva to me on the couch.  Jeannie went upstairs and fell promptly to sleep in her bed, while Seva fell asleep on my chest and I quickly followed suit.  Man, did we all need that nap!  It felt good.  I commented to Jeannie later that I'm sure it made a huge difference in my ability to enjoy the day; I just felt so much better.

Since it was Mother's Day and the next day was Jess's birthday, we stopped at a great store on South Street, Mushmina, to buy gifts for Mita and Jess.  For Mita, we bought a multi-colored scarf.  For Jess, we bought a clutch and a set of five casual wristbands.  Jeannie was lucky enough to get a parking spot directly in front of the store, where she waited with Seva in the car seat in the back.  I enjoyed a conversation with the shop owner, Katie, who told me the story of how she and her sister began the business and encouraged me to begin my own small business.  It was a nice talk and really helped to set me in a good mood for the car ride north to meet Mita and Jess.

It was a beautiful day: sunny, blue skies, moderately warm temperatures, a gentle breeze.  In short, a perfect day for a drive, Seva's first road trip at that.  The first part of the trip was driving northbound on I-95, but the drive became much more enjoyable when we exited and took local, winding roads through New Hope and northbound along the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware River to the small, previously unknown town of Erwinna.  In the shade of the small cliffs and hills to our left, populated with newly green trees in their springtime prime, with the wide river to our right, the drive was spectacular.  Its moments like that when I think of my family in Costa Rica and wish they were there to experience a piece of America not usually thought of as part of the stereotype, which usually consists of big cities, skyscrapers and large, lavish suburbia.  The drive exemplified one of those experiences that make you feel good to be alive, and thus one of those memories which will leave an indelible mark on the soul, though not easily related to others ("you had to be there to see it").

We met Jess, Mita, and Eric at the Golden Pheasant Inn, 763 River Road, Erwinna, Pennsylvania.  It was a beautiful location, just past a bend in the road characterized by a one-lane bridge.  Just across the street from the restaurant, on the other side of River Road, was the Delaware River itself.  Just behind the restaurant was the Delaware River canal, with a narrow red gravel riding path in between, on which at least one bicyclist passed while we were there.  By the time Jeannie, Seva, and I got there, we saw Jess, Mita, and Eric already sitting at a table in the back patio.  Mita and Jess were especially excited to see Seva.  Jess hadn't seen her since her visit to the hospital on Seva's second day of life.

Since our meal was a late lunch or early dinner, I suppose I should say that we enjoyed a nice supper together.  Jeannie and Jess ate duck breast, Mita had scallops, Eric had mussels, and I ate lamb shank.  Overall, we were all pretty pleased with the meal.  As we were finishing our food, I ordered a bottle of malbec to top things off: Trapiche Broquel, 2011 vintage.  It was pretty good, though still leaning a bit on the dry side.  Jeannie and I presented the gifts to Mita and Jess, who both seemed pretty happy.  Even though, we were tired on the drive home, it was a special day that was absolutely worth it.

When we got home, Jeannie and I watched the movie Ender's Game.  I had been wanting to see the movie, since I read the book about a year and a half ago, only a few months after I started dating Jeannie.  I remember still living at Bainbridge Street when I read the book.  We enjoyed the movie last night.  My main critique is the typical one for a movie based on a book: the book was better, since it was more textured, more detailed, and just more well-developed.  But for a movie of two hours or less, it was entertaining and kept us captivated for that time.  Ender's steadfast confidence and leadership effected my mindset at work yesterday.  While at the unit meeting and walking the halls afterwards, I felt a level calm that I don't usually feel at [...].  It was a good feeling, one that I hope to feel more often.

Anyway, getting back to Seva, it's been tough in some ways.  She's a beautiful girl and a good baby.  But like any baby that gets hungry or needs to be changed or simply wants to feel comforted and loved, she cries a lot, and it seems to be more so at nighttime.  Since I've been back to work for the past three weeks, it's hard.  I haven't slept a full eight hours, and probably not even a six-hour stretch, since she was born.  Jeannie has borne the brunt of the child-giving responsibilities, mainly because she's Seva's mother and can feed her, but also because she's on leave, so I guess she's the frontline these days.  I do what I can to help Jeannie, and on that I'm better on some days than others.  I give Jeannie a lot of credit.  She's done an amazing job so far stepping into and growing into the role of mother.  I'm so happy and proud that she's my wife and that she's the mother of my child.  My dear Seva, if you ever read this some day in the future, please know that your mother and I lost many hours of sleep, were sometimes pushed near the limits of our patience and endurance, and sacrificed our personal desires to care for you.  Of course we did this willingly.  We love you so much already, Seva, and I pray to God that our love continues to grow as we grow every day as a family.  But just like I didn't fully appreciate the difficulties of parenthood that others around have been through (not to mention my own parents!), I know that it may be hard for you to understand what we've done, until you become a parent one day, God willing.  I guess all I'm saying is that it's been hard, but it's very much worth it.  In fact, as I'm typing this, I can hear you crying upstairs, your mother talking calmly to you, trying to comfort you.

Well, what else can I write about at this point?  It's 11pm and I have to be up early to meet a law student intern at Family Court tomorrow; I'm supervising her to represent a client in a custody hearing before a judge.  I've thought about memorializing some of my interesting stories here, as well as some of my regrets (stated positively, my lessons learned from mistakes made).  But, as I just alluded, now isn't the time.  I've got only 30 pages left in the book I'm reading, Blindness by José Saramago.  I think I'll read the penultimate, 10-page chapter now, so I can hopefully finish the book tomorrow night.

May God bless you, dear reader.  Until next time.

May Day

Let's see, where do I begin to catch up on the past week that I haven't written?

First of all, Seva is now two days short of three weeks old.  She's healthy, thank God.  And she's growing, which is perceptible even though I see her every day.  And for that I'm thankful too.  I treasure those moments when she's awake, alert, calm, and her eyes are open and she's looking around.  It's as if she's beginning to take in her surroundings, even if her depth perception is not yet developed.  I'm almost certain that she recognizes me, or at least I hope she does.  Jeannie and I have really been blessed and I look forward to seeing Seva continue to grow and develop into a little girl.

Speaking of changes, this week is the first week that [...] is at its new location at the Cast Iron Building, 718 Arch Street.  Although I had some doubts and misgivings about moving from our previous location at 15th & Chestnut, I've been pleasantly impressed with the new building.  The two main things that I miss are my view from the windows at 42 South 15th Street and the fact that my commute was simply a 15 to 20 minute walk.  Now I have to take the 17 bus and I have just one window, behind me, that looks out to an opposing wall and a parking garage.  As a whole, though, the office set-up provides more privacy and overall a lot more square footage for the organization.  Although I've lately been critical of [...], I'll always give credit where credit is due, and in making this move, and actually making it happen, management has done a very good job.  With that being said, I'm still looking forward to going out on paternity leave in mid-June.

After finishing The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway, I began reading Blindness by José Saramago.  I'm nearly halfway through now.  It's been a good book so far, but I'm really wondering how it's going to end, whether all the characters will be cured of their white blindness and whether the author will explain the cause of the epidemic.

Right now it's raining again.  There was already about an inch or more of standing water in our patio from a ton of rain that fell throughout the day and night yesterday.  What can we expect though, it's springtime.  As I was walking to the bus stop this morning, I noticed that little leaves are starting to emerge from the buds on the trees.  Spring is definitely here.  After fall, this may be my favorite time of year.  There's just something fresh and exciting about springtime, finally to be able to get out of the house after winter is over.

I have so much hope for the future.  I feel like I've been through a couple negative challenging periods recently, first with Ileana and most recently at work.  But I feel that these tests were setting me up for the next step, something different, something better.  In the case of post-Ileana, I'm now married to Jeannie and we have our baby Seva, and in spite of our occasional challenges and growing pains, we're happy.  In the case of post-[...], the chapter is yet to be written.  I can only hope for a similar storyline, a positive trajectory in the direction of a better me and happier, healthier future.

I was telling Jeannie earlier this evening over dinner how so many of my clients have been so happy and congratulatory for the birth of Seva.  It's really heartwarming.  I should keep it in mind that being a lawyer comes with its intangible rewards, of which this kind of thing is right up there at the top of the list.  This kind of genuine gratitude and recognition makes me think that being a lawyer isn't the problem, it's just where I'm at now.

This past Saturday, with the weather being nice, I thought on a whim that it would be great to go out to shoot some hoops.  I mentioned it to Jeannie that she should pack up Seva and come with me to the basketball court at 18th & Catharine.  We stopped by the YMCA, hoping that I could pump up my basketball a little bit, but the Y was closed, so I had to go with a mostly-filled ball, which wasn't so bad.  When I got to the court there was another kid, probably in his late teens, who got there right around the same time.  We shot around at one end of the court for a while until another couple guys came by, probably in their early to mid twenties.  About a half hour into shooting around, we got a game of 3-on-3 going at the other end of the court.  I told Jeannie before the game started that I was sure that I'd get winded.  And my prediction came true.  I had bursts of athleticism and flashes of some good offensive drives to the hoop, but overall my lung capacity and poor cardiovascular condition held me back from playing anywhere near top form.  I'll tell you, though, even though my body felt it for at least the next couple days, it was totally worth it, I had a lot of fun just playing ball, doing something for the heck of it, but still competing.  It was great.  I hope to play again this coming weekend.

Another highlight from this past weekend, Sunday I think, was looking through a lot of the poetry that I've written and saved on my computer.  Some of it made me grimace in embarrassment, but there were other poems that brought back feelings and memories that made me laugh and smile.  I know that many times there's no telling when inspiration will inspire, but I'm certain that there has to be a certain degree of intentionality necessary to write, especially when it comes to poetry.  I say that as a preface to the statement that I'd like to come around at some point and start writing poetry again.  I can't say that I'm any kind of master, but if I can make my future self laugh and smile, and maybe some others laugh and smile too, then it'll be worth it.

Reflecting on the paragraph before last, I realize that I love competing when it's fun.  And I hope to get back to that point when it comes to law.  It's fun to have fun and it's not fun to not have fun.  I'd like to have fun and be happy.

Going back to the topic of memories, I like to think of moments from the road.  The other morning (perhaps this morning?) I was thinking of being on the bus with Jeannie somewhere in upstate New York on the way to Montreal.  I remember being on the phone with Pito and Jess and looking out the window at the colorful trees on the side of the road and feeling excited about heading back to Montreal for a long weekend.  I remember sitting in the passenger seat as Jeannie drove the rental car straight from the San Diego International Airport south on I-5 to the Mexican border and down along the coast to Ensenada.  I remember the beauty of looking out and down the Pacific cliffs to the ocean below and the winding road along the sleepy Mexican coast, the hills looking really dry to our left-hand side.  I remember sitting in a bus seat in the middle of the dark night somewhere in Laos, listening to my iPod, including the song "Light of the Moon" by Scapegoat Wax, which I'll never forget.  I remember the bus stopped randomly at some point on the back road to let everyone out to piss and shit on the side of the road, without any light (except from the moon and stars) and without any cover.  It was one of those experiences that could never be truly captured on a camera, but yet it remains an indelible memory of life on the road.

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.

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!

Go big or go home!

"There is no passion to be found playing small -- in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living." -- Nelson Mandela

My friend R. Lowe posted this on facebook just a couple hours ago.  It really struck home.  I know I'm probably sounding like a broken record these days, since I've mostly been writing about how unfulfilled I feel at work, but it's what's most on my mind.  Which should say a lot, since I'm expecting the arrival of my first-born any day now!  For my daughter's sake, for my wife's sake, and for my own sake, I deserve at least the opportunity to go big.  Go big or go home!  I feel small and underutilized at work.  I feel ignored.  I write emails and there's often no response or affirmation of any kind.  I post articles on facebook on topics that my work colleagues should likely agree with, but no one comments or clicks "like."  It's ridiculous.  I'm like Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man.  When I'm at the office, especially when it comes to meetings, I feel small, I feel turned inward, I feel hunched, I feel downward.  On the contrary, at times when I'm at Court or at other times when I'm one-on-one with a client or law student or other times on the weekends among friends or other people, I feel full, like my wings are stretched, I feel level, I feel calmer and more confident, more comfortable in my own space/area.

Snowy night

It's a snowy night in Philadelphia.  We had 9.8 inches of snow fall late last night into this morning.  Then there was a lull for most of the day up until now, as I write this.  But we're expected to get the back end of the nor'easter tonight, which will give us another 1 to 3 inches of snow.  I just got the email that the office will be closed tomorrow.  Taking into account that I was off today and we're off on Monday for Presidents' Day, I'm in a 5-day weekend.

Today is notable for more than the snow.  Jeannie is 33 weeks pregnant today.  Meaning that, if that calculation is accurate, we'll be the proud parents of a baby girl in about 7 weeks, give or take, depending on when our little girl decides to arrive.  The expected due date is April 3rd.

Although I see with my own eyes how Jeannie's belly is getting bigger every day, it doesn't seem quite real to me.  There are, however, those moments when it hits me and I feel very excited.  For example, I almost always walk north on 18th Street for a good part of my walk to work in the morning.  And I daydream about walking with the baby to Rittenhouse Square when the weather is warmer in a few months.  I'm looking forward to being a father.  And I'm so happy that Jeannie will be the mother of my child (maybe, hopefully, some day: children).  Although no one can ever be totally prepared to be a parent, I think we're both in a good place in our lives that this is the time.  I feel good about it and I have faith in everything about it.

Speaking of faith, since just about a year ago, we've been attending mass at St. Charles Borromeo Church very regularly.  We've grown to love the feeling of warmth and community there.  It's where Jeannie and I got married just two months ago, on Saturday, December 14, 2013.  Father Ed is a great guy and I really like how down-to-earth he is, which translates to his style of homily.  The fact that it's just a couple blocks up the road makes it really easy for us to get there on Sunday mornings.  It's one of those things that may seem insignificant at first blush, but it's one of the greatest sources of happiness and stability in my life over the past year.  And I hope and intend that we'll continue to attend and become more a part of the community.

Rocky and the Baby are healthy and doing well.  Rocky was just on my lap a few minutes ago as I was typing the early part of this note.  The Baby is on the couch with Jeannie, who happened to fall asleep there about a half-hour ago.  As hard as it is to believe, Rocky and the Baby turned 9 years old this past Christmas (2013).  I got them just past Valentine's Day 2005, so at this point they've been in my life for nearly 9 years.  It's amazing.  Talk about family, they've been a part of my daily life for 9 years, seen me through changes of relationships, been with me through moves to new residences, seen me happy and sad, and been with me throughout it all.  I love them so much.  I hope they can feel it or know it somehow.  I'm just so thankful to God that Rocky and the Baby are in my life.  Every Sunday at church, I pray for their good health and happiness.

The chapter of my life at PLA is likely coming to an end later this year.  It's something that I hesitate to put in writing, even here, because of my concerns of keeping my intentions known to only a very small circle of loved ones.  I mention it only so when I look back I'll see that it was something already in the works as of this date, and sooner I assure you.

Jeannie and I recently came back from India.  Initially, Jeannie was going there for work and I was just going to take advantage and tag along.  When Jeannie's employer (who happens to be my friend) found out we were getting married, he very graciously offered Jeannie the first week off there, so she and I could effectively have a honeymoon, which we hadn't planned or really intended to take.  We were very happy to take the opportunity.  For the first three days or so, we were in Delhi.  I had the blessing to see the Taj Mahal for the first time in my life.  Then, for my last seven days there, we stayed in Bengaluru, in the south of India.  On the first two days in Bengaluru, I went out for daylong pilgrimages, in which I roamed the city, mostly on foot, but also by public bus.  Those two days, away from the routine of my everyday life and accompanied only by my solitude, allowed my mind to roam as freely as my legs were taking my body.  By the grace of God, I received a lot of inspiration, in terms of concrete ideas for my next professional chapter, as well as the even more important feeling of confidence or dare I say destiny.  The shining example of the latter was a date that came to my mind that I must launch my next chapter.  That date is my target.  I have a goal, and so now the time from now until then shall be dedicated to the details that must be filled in so I can feel as prepared as I possibly can be.

I sometimes struggle with resisting the temptation to judge others who I consider to be unjust or self-centered or biased.  For example, I believe one of the lawyers I work with has a big ego and likes to draw attention to herself.  But the thing that irritates me more than that simple point is that others seem to have bought in to her "brand," so to speak.  They've bought in to her ego, which I believe is bigger than her actual value or talent, not to take away from or underestimate that the talent and skills that she does have.  In another example, there's this community activist in South Philadelphia who, numerically at least, has a large following on facebook.  I believe that she is racist; to put it bluntly, I believe she hates white people.  Being "white" in color and mostly European in heritage, I take offense to some of what she writes online.  Up until now, I've swallowed my thoughts and not responded, but just a couple weeks ago, I finally wrote a sharp reply to her online.  Similar to my first example above, it bothers me when someone has too much influence, too loud of a voice, for a position that's either biased or too self-centered.  I really can't stand it.  But I know I have no control over how people, these people in particular, act or what they say.  And I have no control over how others receive their message or consider their personality.  I can only be me.  Recently, perhaps in part looking ahead to changes later this year, I've started to be just a bit more vocal on facebook, in terms of what I write for my own posts and also in reply to others.  I've been mindful not to come across as too overly confident (which would be ironic) or too critical of others.  I hope I've succeeded on those counts.

Finally, just as an update, I'm currently reading the New Testament.  For the second time ever.  A couple years ago, from around December 2011 to maybe May or June 2012, I read the Bible from cover to cover, Old Testament through New Testament.  This time I'm just reading the New Testament.  As of now, I'm at 2 Corinthians.  Not to be cliche, but it's a good book.  It's helped to give confidence to me in my daily life, especially professionally.  Overall, my faith is stronger, although I know that I need to be careful not to take anything for granted, faith in particular.

Weekend round-up

I had a great weekend.  On Friday, I worked until 6:40pm, then walked home to get changed and go to the gym for about 45 minutes.  I did the following exercises: barbell bench press; dumbbell curl and press; dumbbell lateral raises; and tricep cable press-downs.  It was a good work-out.  I'll note that, for my final set of bench press, I put up 225 pounds for two (2) repetitions, with no spot.  Jeannie and I came back from the gym, and she took a quick shower, after which we made a dinner of salad and mac-n-cheese.  Then I took a shower and we headed out to meet Jeannie's friends, Katy, Deb, and Antoine at Morgan's Pier.  The breeze coming off the Delaware River was really pleasant and the views of the Benjamin Franklin Bridge were spectacular.  We got to Morgan's Pier just in time to see the fireworks at the end of the Camden Riversharks game.  The main downside to Morgan's Pier, however, was the loud volume of the techno music they were playing; it made it kinda hard to talk.  Overall, it was a good night though.

On Saturday, Jeannie and I met up with Corey and Laura for brunch at SoWe.  Jeannie had the crab cakes benedict and I had French toast.  We had a nice time catching up with Corey and Laura, who are getting married in a little more than two (2) months from now.  I feel like Corey and I have grown apart a bit since the suicide of Wagner.  It could be due to the busyness of our respective schedules or our preference to spend our free time with our respective partner, but I also wonder if one or both of us might be backing away out of a reaction to the death of Wagner, as a form of psychological self-preservation or just distancing ourselves from a terrible episode in our recent past.  Anyway, bringing it back to the present, it was great to see Corey and Laura.  After brunch, I dropped-off my brown dress shoes to be re-soled at Paul and Paula's shoe repair shop on South Street near 20th Street.  Then, we stopped in to Neighborhood Books on South Street near 19th, where I bought The Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State by Friedrich Engels and The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene (which I'll read in that order).  After that, we came home and rested for a while until Jeannie's friend, Katy, came over for a visit and helped Jeannie to make what turned out to be a delicious chicken pot pie.  Later, around 9pm, my friend Ben and his boyfriend, Kyle, came over to join us.  And later, closer to midnight, Katy's husband, Andrew, stopped by for a few minutes after flying in to PHL.  We all just hung out and watched Spider-Man 3 on television.

Today was a good day.  We started the day as usual by going to mass at St. Charles Borromeo.  After getting home and having some cereal for breakfast, Jeannie went out for a walk, while I stayed home to water the plants and do some reading out on the back patio.  The sun felt good and warm.  I drank a couple cups of coffee and really just enjoyed my time outside.  Later, after I gave myself a haircut and Jeannie came home, I ate lunch (left-over chicken pot pie; French vanilla yogurt; and an apple) and took a shower.  Then, we walked the couple blocks over to the Marian Anderson Recreation Center pool, which was such a good idea, because it was so relaxing.  There weren't too many people there, the water was cool and relaxing, and the sun still felt great.  Afterward, we came home and shortly after my friend Rodwin (an old friend from Gettysburg) came by for a visit.  He just spent the last few months in basic training and he leaves tomorrow morning on a cross-country drive to his assignment in Fort Lewis, Washington.  It was very good to see Rod and I felt honored that he would take time from his very tight schedule to come all the way into Philadelphia to see Jeannie and me.  It meant a whole lot and I was happy to see him.  After he left, Jeannie and I spent some quality time together before taking advantage of the beautiful evening to make some burgers on the grill, with a salad and French fries on the side.  Now, Jeannie's waiting for me at the couch so we can enjoy some relaxation as we wind down the weekend.  All in all, it was a very good one.  And for that, I'm very thankful to God.

Rainy Sunday

Today was a good day.  I began the day by going to mass at St. Charles Borromeo.  The message today was the power of prayer.  The Old Testament reading was Abraham asking God to spare the city of Sodom, if there were 50, then 45, then 40, then 30, then 20, then 10 innocent people there, so as not to punish the innocent for the sins of the guilty.  The New Testament reading was the story of the apostles, after seeing Jesus pray in the garden, asking him how to pray and Jesus teaching them how to pray the Lord's Prayer.  I hope to keep in mind the power of prayer, and to use it.  When I left church, I shook hands with Father Ed as usual and I wished him a good week on retreat in Virginia.  I told him that I would pray for him; he responded that he would pray for me too.

I spent some time out on the patio, drinking coffee and reading Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs.  And I spent some time cleaning up the apartment, because I thought Paul might come to visit (he never came through).

Later in the afternoon, I watched USA defeat Panama, 1-0, in the final match of the CONCACAF Gold Cup 2013.  It was a good match.  The first half was pretty even, due largely to the defense on each side.  The second half opened up for the U.S., though, as they clearly had the edge in possession, but just couldn't connect for a while, until Shea came in and tapped in a shot by Landon Donovan for the first, the only, and the winning goal of the match.

Not long after the game, I fell asleep on the couch, after trying to do some more reading.  I didn't sleep very well last night, so it finally caught up to me.  It felt good to take a nap.  There was a lot of heavy rain this afternoon, so it just seemed appropriate to take a nap on the couch.  I'm really thankful for that.

I'm starting to miss Jeannie.  Generally I'm a pretty independent and solitary person, so I've been pretty content to spend time with Rocky and the Baby.  But finally today I'm starting to miss Jeannie's company.  She's a really sweet girl and I'm so happy that she's my girlfriend.  Her not being here is the main reason I would say that today was a good but not a great day.  I'll pick her up from PHL this Wednesday night, but I probably won't be able to truly catch up with her until Thursday after work.  So until then, I'll just try to keep busy, keep my head up, and keep enjoying my time with Rocky and the Baby!

I believe that my mom has no true understanding that I'm a real lawyer.  I believe that my mom still looks at me as if I were 21 years old.  I believe that my mom thinks I handle cases as a law student: mock cases or cases that aren't serious.  I don't think my mom understands that I sometimes argue against opposing counsel, that scores of clients think of me as their lawyer, that I'm an independent attorney with my own caseload.  I think my mom still gets worried when I drive a car, thinking automatically that I'm going to speed or drive recklessly.  I don't think my mom believes that I speak Spanish, although I've traveled by myself to Spanish-speaking countries, some of my clients speak no English at all, but only Spanish, and on one occasion when I was a paralegal I actually interpreted from Spanish to English and vice versa for a judge in a court hearing.  I believe that my mom has no real understanding of all the experiences I've had in my life, because she's never taken the time to ask, and when I do recount an experience, she tends not to listen very closely, if at all.  I don't think my mom realizes how many books I've read, and thus how many different points of view I've considered, how many stories I've experienced vicariously through the letters on a page and the pages in a book.  I believe that, by not realizing this, or even considering this, my mom believes that her judgment, by virtue of her age, is superior to mine, although she has read very little over the course of her lifetime, and still does not make reading a priority.  I believe that my mom has no idea how good a lawyer I really am.  I believe that my mom's opinion of my personality is largely focused on my negative qualities, or in other words, on my weaknesses.  I bet that if my mom had to list my three greatest strengths, she would struggle to list any, let alone name three qualities with confidence.

Facebook status update

Felicitaciones al escritor Mario Vargas Llosa por ganar el Premio Nobel de Literatura! Yo he leído tres libros de él: Lituma en los Andes, The Feast of the Goat, y The War of the End of the World, los cuales son muy bien escritos. Me felicita que un escrito americano (-latino) ha ganado el premio, por primera vez desde 1990 (Octavio Paz).

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

I just checked the website for 6abc news, and they're calling for 18 to 24 inches of snow in Philadelphia! If we really get as much snow as they're predicting, it's really gonna shut-down the city. The office is already closed for tomorrow, and it may be closed on Thursday too. I just can't imagine how another two feet of snow, on top of the two feet that's still on the ground from this past Saturday, is gonna be plowed. Even SEPTA is announcing that it will quite likely shut-down service.

So, the moral of the story is that I've gotta be prepared. I just finished my latest book last night, "The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems," a collection of fifty of Pablo Neruda's poems. I think he is an amazing poet, and just reading his poetry got me thinking in poetic terms, and hoping that I can be inspired to write some of my own poetry again. Maybe the day off tomorrow may afford me the opportunity, if only I am blessed with inspiration. Anyway, on my walk home today I'm going to stop by Barnes & Noble to use the remaining value on a gift card (given to me on my birthday by my mom's boyfriend, Eric) to get a new book. I already have a few titles in mind; we'll see what I actually get.

Another form of preparation is picking-up a couple movies. Just a few nights ago, I got a month-long movie pass from the video store on 20th Street. Ileana and I watched District 9 and (500) Days of Summer. But I'd like to stop by this evening to replace those two with two new ones, so that I have something to watch tomorrow during the day or in the evening.

And finally, I should definitely stop off at Trader Joe's to restock on some food and drink. I'm sure Trader Joe's is gonna be a madhouse, but I really have no choice because I'm running low on a bunch of stuff. I would've had to go there today, even if there was no impending snowstorm.

Somehow I have to do all of these things and get out to Ileana's place in West Philly before the new episode of Lost begins at 9:00 p.m. tonight! Oh man, this doesn't look good.

Winter wonderland

A major snowstorm hit Philadelphia. The snow began falling late Friday night, and it didn't stop until some time Saturday night. When it was all said and done, there were 28.5 inches of snow on the ground. That's the official snowfall for Philadelphia, according to the news. And based on that, it's the second biggest single snowfall in the recorded history of the city. But from what I can estimate at the double-deuce and Spruce, I think the snow total was less than two feet. Don't get me wrong though. Even now, on Monday morning, there is still a ton of snow on the streets. Even the sidewalks of major streets, like Walnut, are not completely clear. It's times like this that I really wish I had a digital camera that worked, and a notebook computer that had sufficient memory to allow me to upload photos. Those are two things (a camera and a computer) on my list of things to get. Anyway, with temperatures not really expected to exceed the freezing mark, it will be very difficult to remove the snow before the next major snowstorm, which is predicted for this coming Wednesday.

On Saturday night, I took the Baby out on to the front stoop to let her see the snow. She was her typical self: a bit timid, but curious. We stayed outside for not much more than five minutes to let her do just a little bit of exploring.

Well, having a weekend where I mostly stayed indoors allowed me to do some reading. Last week I finished "Revolutionary Suicide" by Huey P. Newton. And although I've been meaning to make it to Borders or Barnes and Noble to get a new book, I simply haven't done so. Luckily, I still had the book that Ileana gave me as a gift for my birthday, a collection of poems by Pablo Neruda, which I've been reading for the past week. I've got a little more than 40 pages left, so perhaps I can finish it tonight.

I think Sue's husband, George, looks like Jeremy Shockey, of the New Orleans Saints. Last night the Saints won Super Bowl 44 over the Indianapolis Colts. I'd been routing for the Colts, who looked good in the first quarter. But the Saints staved off the Colts' momentum by eating up tons of clock in the second quarter, thereby keeping Peyton Manning (and the Colts offense) from getting into a groove. And by doing that, it allowed Drew Brees and the Saints offense to shake off any rust and/or nerves to get into their own groove. Despite that, the game was close, it was anyone's game, until late in the fourth quarter, when Peyton Manning threw an interception that was run back for a Saints' touchdown. Besides the points margin, it was a shift of momentum, a game-changer. Oh well, I guess I'm happy for the NFC to have won a championship. And I guess for the city of New Orleans too, as non-sportcasters in the news are making such a big deal about. As if the Super Bowl victory will do anything to rebuild a city or prevent the potential effects of another major hurricane in New Orleans. But maybe I'm being a little cynical. The Saints franchise has never won a Super Bowl, and there are no other major sports in that city, so if anyone deserves to win the big game, why not them?

Well, things seem pretty quiet today, with the snow and all. So I may write again later today, when my mind begins wandering, and I have some random thoughts that merit mention.

Facebook status update

"Para mi solo recorrer los caminos que tienen corazon, cualquier camino que tenga corazon. Por ahi yo recorro, y la unica prueba que vale es atravesar todo su largo. Y por ahi yo recorro mirando, mirando, sin aliento." -- don Juan Matus