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.

Analysis of my relationship with Ileana, and how it still effects me today

With the benefit of the passing of time and the diminishing of strong feelings, I can more easily see my relationship with Ileana more clearly.  There was a turning point in there somewhere, much much sooner than the actual end of the relationship.  As with so many relationships, I'm sure there wasn't a specific day that there was a turning point.  But looking back through old emails as mile-markers, I'd say it was somewhere between November 19, 2010 (when Ileana and I went to see George Lopez live at the Academy of Music) and March 29, 2011 (when we returned from three weeks in Costa Rica).  If either one of us had any sense (me) or any courage (her), we should have ended our relationship after returning from that trip.

The fact of the matter was that I was 33 years old at that time -- ready not just for a relationship, but for marriage -- while on the other hand Ileana was only 24 years old -- fresh into post-college 20s and ready to be free.  The problem was that I was too myopic to the possibility of life and love after Ileana and (frankly) too obsessed with her to have the sense to end the relationship, despite the consistent recurring waves of dissatisfaction and unfulfillment from her.  For me, at that time, ending the relationship wasn't even an option.

The problem for Ileana was that she was caught between a rock and a hard place.  The rock: the fact that she was only a couple years out of college and she wanted to live the "typical" life of a young woman in her mid-20s, proving her independence to herself by renting her own apartment, paying her own bills, working for herself, and in all other respects to be free and independent.  The hard place: the prospect of a guaranteed relationship with a good guy with a good career, something that I know for a fact her own mother emphasized in her mother's support of me as Ileana's boyfriend.  Ileana was caught between those two irreconcilable options.  At times of difficulty and indecision on her part, I pointed this out to Ileana; thus, she can't say that she didn't understand the issue.

And the whole thing was a classic catch-22.  Ileana would go through major ups and downs (I could speculate as to the source/cause of those mood swings, but I won't do any more than put it out there for the reader to guess).  When she was in an anti-relationship phase, I would feel sad or scared that the relationship was going to end and that I had to "work harder."  (I laugh at that now).  I would "try hard," which would push her away even further, since that was a threat to her freedom.  Then, I would get the message and back off, which would then play into her insecurities and she would come back to me.  I also suspect that she came back out of guilt -- for having abandoned the relationship for whatever period of time and towards the end of the relationship (or perhaps much sooner) for having cheated on me with other men.  So her guilt and insecurities would bring her back to me -- the shittiest reasons for a woman to ever come back to a man.  And the whole thing continued like that for months.  It was an emotional disaster, especially as more and more time went by.

As I wrote above, one of us should have ended the relationship at the year-and-a-half mark, when we returned to Philly from Costa Rica.  That trip was so horrendous that I haven't been back to Costa Rica since then.  It left such a sour taste in my mouth -- I didn't have any fun with Ileana.  The whole trip was a stressful debacle.  Her lack of any sense of humor or ability to have fun killed the trip.  And playing myself into that serious mood and emotional tenor, I was very critical towards Ileana during that trip.  As I said, it was a disaster.  We should have broken up then, but my lack of sense and her failure to overcome her fears kept us in a paralysis for the next year -- requiring that we each do some really shitty things to each other to finally wake our senses to the reality of our dysfunctional, toxic relationship.

As I look back now, I can live with the lessons learned from that failed relationship.  I'm happily married now, with none of the issues that marred my relationship with Ileana.  What does bother me is that around that time frame of late 2010 to early 2011, the negativity and seriousness and lack of sense of humor of Ileana -- and my relationship with her -- began to effect my mood and humor.  And I do not think I've fully recovered my own sense of self since then.  It's something that I've talked about recently with my wife, Jeannie.  I read through old emails and facebook posts from before November 19, 2010 (to pick a mile-marker): I was funny, I was light-hearted, I didn't take myself too seriously.  But after March 29, 2011 (again, simply to pick an easy mile-marker), I'm not so funny, I'm angry much more than I care to be, I often have little patience, and I'm quite serious (and I have a lot more gray hair).  In short, I can't stand what I've turned into.  I know that negative and challenging experiences at work have played to a certain degree into this transformation, but I place the main onus and cause on my relationship with Ileana.  And that's the part that still makes me angry (ironic, right?).

I really want a fresh start.  I pray to God for another transformation, this time a positive one, a return to basics, to the real me: someone funny and light-hearted and witty and sarcastic and playfully immature.  Fortunately, God has blessed me with a wonderful wife, who makes me laugh sometimes and who laughs at almost all of my silly jokes.  I've also been blessed with a beautiful daughter, Seva, who has already helped to bring out the playful side of me, and will hopefully continue to do so as she gets older and turns from a baby into a little girl.  I've only been free from my toxic and hurtful relationship with Ileana for just over two years.  I know that I shouldn't expect changes to come so soon.  But I hope (and pray to God) that, come 2015, 2016, and beyond, my true self shines forth and I can reclaim my happiness in life.  I trust that these were hard lessons that I needed to learn, to value the importance of commitment and reciprocity in a mutually respectful and mature relationship and to finally grow up.  Still, I just want to be happy, not just in the moment that I do something silly or enjoy a fun moment with Jeannie or Seva, but deep down in the core of my being.  I'll be patient and hope that God hears my prayer and answers me.

In the meantime, dear reader, I hope this post clarifies to you who I am these days.  If you know me and I've hurt you in any way over these last three years, I hope you understand better where I'm coming from.  And I hope that you will forgive me.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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.

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.

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.

Animal abuse

I saw (tonight on the 10pm edition of Action News on PHL17) a story about animal abuse.  Someone skinned an animal, likely a dog, from head to tail and removed the animal's ears and rear paws.  As I was watching the story, Rocky was sitting on the couch next to me.  The story is sick.  To know that there are people who can so easily disregard and disrespect life and dignity is sad and depressing.

It made me think about the time when I lived very briefly (for only about six weeks) with Ileana at 777 South Cleveland Street.  I remember we were on the bed when Rocky went walking across the bed and Ileana kicked him in the side.  Without waiting or asking any questions, I punched Ileana once as hard as I could on one of her hips.  I would do that again 100 times out of 100.  There is no right for anyone to hurt an animal, with the only exception being legitimate self-defense.  In hindsight, I'm very happy that I'm no longer in a relationship with Ileana, because that act demonstrated just a seed of what I describe above.

Since I've been in a relationship with Jeannie, she has been nothing but kind and loving towards Rocky and the Baby.  And so it's no surprise that there has never been any violence of any sort in my relationship with Jeannie.  Whereas Ileana eventually at the end of our relationship brought out the worst in me, my relationship with Jeannie has been healthy and normal, as a family should be.

Earlier today, due to the clocks springing forward one hour, we missed our normal 9:30am mass at St. Charles Borromeo.  Instead, we went to the 6:30pm mass at St. Patrick's.  After receiving the host of Christ in holy communion, I returned to the pew and as usual I said a prayer for Rocky and the Baby.  I always thank God for Rocky and the Baby being in my life and bringing me so much joy and happiness; and I prayed that God bless them and protect them.  I love Rocky and the Baby.

On the topic of animal abuse, without even knowing what the punishments are, I can say that I'm very likely in favor of increasing the punishments for convicted animal abusers.  Anyone with a complete disrespect of life, as demonstrated in their abuse of an animal, should be incarcerated for a long time and intensively treated to get to the heart of what has led them to such a skewed disdain for life.

A Day to Thank my Enemies

On this date, March 2nd, I thank all those who have broken my heart, insulted me, offended me, failed to believe in me, underestimated me, or talked shit about me behind my back.  Two years ago today, on March 2nd, 2012, Ileana walked out on me, walking right out the door to my apartment at 1015 Bainbridge Street.  I haven't had any direct contact with her since.

Earlier today, before I got out of bed to take a shower before church, I thought about two episodes where I really felt hurt and then ashamed of my reaction.  First, when I was a senior in high school, I remember dating for a very short period of time one of the most desirable girls of the junior class, Marissa McCormick, a beautiful girl with lush, curly hair.  She was a goalie on the field hockey team.  And she was later that year voted as the best looking girl of her class, or something along those lines.  I remember going on a double date with her and Mike Potter and the girl he was dating at the time.  We went to the Friendly's right by the Marlton Circle (the intersection of Routes 70 & 73, no longer a circle for at least four or five years).  Anyway, it may have been later that night after the double date that another guy, Tim, from our football team threw a house party.  We had lost to Pemberton earlier that day, putting this whole episode on Saturday, October 14, 1995.  Marissa and I both went to the house party.  I don't remember if I picked her up to go there, or if we just met there.  But we were definitely dating, or so I thought.  I don't remember much about the night, except that I think I was trying to play it cool by not being attached to her.  Maybe that was my mistake, because I recall that I hadn't seen her for a while and so I went looking for her.  I opened the door to a bedroom to find her sitting on the bed with one of my friends on the team, John Cidoni.  It's possible that I immediately jumped to a false conclusion, but even my written description now seems hard to justify, so I was understandably hurt by what I saw.  I remember going back downstairs where I had been sitting in the basement.  I remember talking with Taryn Young and I think also with Mia Tatum, a couple of the cheerleaders, both very beautiful young women in their own right.  And I remember getting upset to the point of crying.  I admit before God and whoever later reads this that I'm a sensitive guy; there's no doubt about that.  But I still feel a bit ashamed at my emotional reaction.  Although I had good reason to feel betrayed -- not so much by Marissa, between whom we had not likely developed any kind of allegiance, but more so from my friend, Cidoni -- I still feel like I could have handled the situation with more grace.

The second episode didn't happen too much later, as the calendar would indicate.  I was a sophomore in college, so this was the fall of 1997.  It happened during a football game, although I don't remember which one.  At that point, I was still our team's starting wide receiver.  The moment really hit me at halftime, although it had been building up since some point in the second quarter, and at a deeper level pretty much since the start of the season.  I had a terrible first half, dropping at least a couple easy balls.  The point in the second quarter, that I refer to just above, was what should have been a very easy catch, but was instead a dropped pass.  I was frustrated.  And it had been building for a while.  I was being underutilized by the coach, Barry Streeter.  In other words, I felt that my skills and my talents were being taken for granted, or even worse just disregarded.  That was the issue, not so much the frustration of the moment, but the fact that I felt like less of a person than I had considered myself.  It made me question my identity as a football player, as the best wide receiver that I knew.  And when I got into the locker room at halftime, it was too much to hold back.  I took off my helmet and cried by my locker.  I couldn't handle it.  Again, I think back to this episode and I wonder if I had the emotional grit to handle the situation with more grace, perhaps wait until a more private moment to release my pent-up frustration and self-doubt.  Or perhaps not.  Perhaps that was exactly what needed to happen.

When I look back at both of those moments, I see that something "good" came out of each one.  After the first, I developed a hunger to hit Cidoni in tackling drills and the like during practice.  Before that, I'd always had an aversion, if not fear, to hitting and being hit.  My love for the game of football had more to do with displaying my skills in having really good hands to catch the football and exceptional speed to set myself apart, athletically, from everyone else on the field.  Now, in reaction to this episode of hurt, I wanted to punish Cidoni.  And I overcame my fear of hitting others as hard as I could.  I remember that it was later that same season that I put a huge hit on Aamir Dew in our win against #6-ranked nationally Toms River North.  And I wasn't scared any more of getting hit.

After the second episode, I think I began to realize that my own identity was more than a football player, or at least it had to be, and I had to figure out how so.  Right before I was supposed to report to camp in August 1998, I called Coach Streeter to tell him that I wasn't going to return to the team.  I had been developing as a team leader during the off-season work-outs, but I decided to apply those skills elsewhere.  I joined our college chapter of Amnesty International and eventually led it to the second biggest budget for a student organization on campus and ushered in a period of increased membership and activity on campus.

Maybe this is all revisionist history on my part, especially since I still feel a bit of shame from my reaction to both episodes of hurt.  I hope I'm remembered for more than just my reactions.  I hope I'm remembered for being genuine in my emotions.  And more than that, I hope I'm remembered for the positive aspects: for being desired by a really desirable girl, for being a great football player, for being a good organizational leader, and for always putting my heart into whatever I did.

Circling back to the commemoration of today's date, I also know that I was devastated by Ileana walking out that door.  The next two months marked one of the biggest depressions of my life (on par with my third year of law school).  Similar to the first story, I felt rejected by a girl.  And similar to the second story, I felt like I had lost a big piece of my identity.  But like both stories above, something really good came out of it: only six months later, to the day (September 2, 2012), I met my wife at a Labor Day barbecue I hosted at the very same apartment at 1015 Bainbridge Street.  And not just that, I had learned the importance of valuing and cherishing my relationship with my partner.  Since then, I'm very aware that I've been blessed by God, and I'm very thankful.

Sometimes, it's the people who hurt us in some way that teach us the most.  This March 2nd, I thank those people by still being here, being alive, and being happy.

Dear Ileana, I'm in Key West for Paul's wedding to Sarah-Jane.  To see and catch-up with my friends who are married and to see Paul and Sarah-Jane, I'm opening my eyes to the realization that you don't love me.  You consistently, over and over again, cheated on me with other guys.  Even if you try to justify that you did what you did at times when we were broken up, it doesn't matter; if you loved me, you wouldn't want to be with anyone else.  So let me ask you point-blank: why did you waste 2 1/2 years of my life, when the truth was that you still wanted: 1) to be with Stefan (offended that he had the gall to leave you, and then jealous when he started dating and fucking the Brazilian girl, Fernanda?), and/or b) to see how it felt to touch and have other dicks inside of you?  I now believe that you lied to me when you said, when you were leaving me on March 2nd, that this had nothing to do with other guys, yet just last Sunday Wagner saw you walking with a guy down the Schuylkill River Trail.  What's with your fucking inability to tell the truth???  I remember telling you way back at the beginning of our relationship to be honest with yourself and then honest with others.  But you couldn't do it: you didn't break-up with Stefan even though you were spending almost every single day with me.  You were living a lie, and I told you so.  And it sure seems that 2 1/2 years later, you have not matured, you have not learned that lesson, because you were telling me that we were exclusive, that we were boyfriend-girlfriend again, yet you were at least kissing the dj, if not other guys, and if not touching their dicks too.  I would not be even a tiny bit surprised to find out that you were fucking other guys in 2012 while also having sex with me.  What's the truth, Ileana?  Have the decency to come clean.  I want to know the entire truth.  It'll help me to move on.  Love,

Dear Ileana, As I write this I'm bawling like a baby.  I'm watching Benjamin Button on tv and its making me cry.  First, I remember we watched it together.  So many things remind me of you.  This is so hard . . . I miss you so much my heart feels like its dying.  I've never loved a woman as much as I've loved you.  But my heart is beginning, just the littlest bit, to tell me that I've lost you forever.  Second, the movie is making me cry, because it reminds me that I'm going to die some day, it may be soon or it may be many years from now.  But there is no doubt I will no longer be here someday.  And as I cry hysterically here, I pray to God for the blessing to one day love again, even though I may not deserve it.  I hope to God that one day I feel and know true love again.  I'm all alone; I have been since you left me.  I'm no longer so immature to think that sex with someone whom I don't love will provide me any sort of contentment.  I'm not an animal, and I will not use a woman for quick, easy sex for my own selfish motivations.  I'm a mature and respectful man, so I intend to only have sex when I am in love again.  My intense sadness arises from the reality that the woman I now love -- you, Ileana -- does not love me, is not here with me in any way -- not sexually, not physically, not emotionally, nothing.  I'm a good man, willing to give my heart, love, and passion to a woman who loves me.  I feel so utterly hopeless right now.  I feel betrayed, not just specifically by you, but by life in general.  Will I ever be loved by a woman again?  Will you, Ileana, ever love me again?  I know that I'm just a regular guy, not rich or famous in any way, not hip or cool or in any in crowd.  I've dedicated my life to helping those less fortunate.  If this is the only form of love I can give, then I will die someday accepting it as God's will.  And from time to time, I'll think about you, Ileana, and wonder . . . I will love you until the day I die, no matter what.  I love you now.  Love,

Dear Ileana, Wow, two interesting updates today.  First, you text me at 11am.  Second, I talked to Wagner tonight and he told me that he saw you on a walk this past Sunday late afternoon on the Schuylkill with a white guy possibly blonde hair.  I know that I shouldn't read too much into either one.  For your text, I could think: oh wow, she misses me and she wants to open communication to see if we could be together again.  But then I look at what you wrote which, in essence, was simply: hi, how are you?  And that doesn't have to mean anything but just that.  Then, for the walk with the guy, I could think: oh no, she's moved on from me, she's dating this guy, she's probably sleeping over his place, probably that night after the walk, which means you've likely had sex with someone else now since leaving me.  But then I think to myself: don't jump to conclusions, they weren't holding hands, and Ileana is not attracted to blonde guys (if Wagner's memory serves him correctly).  So, the take-away from all of this is I should assume nothing and try to keep an even keel.  Either you love me or you don't.  Either you intend to be with me again someday or you don't.  And you're the one who left me, you're the one who said she was confused.  So my initial reaction right now is that I'm not gonna respond to your text.  If you truly love me and you've become un-confused, you'll come find me and tell me that directly, not merely send a text message saying a platonic "hi, how are you?"  And until or unless you make the move to state your true love for me that has become clear to you, I want nothing else from you.  I don't want to be friends with a girl who consistently hooked up with other guys for the past 9+ months, who physically hit me numerous times when she got angry, who didn't often compliment me or even seem to like me, who didn't kiss me passionately just because, and who was able to lie to my face.  The only force in the universe capable of overcoming all that is true, real LOVE, expressed genuinely and willingly and passionately and consistently.  If you can't, won't, or don't want to LOVE me, then leave me alone.  I love you, Ileana.  Love,

Dear Ileana, Last night, after writing, I turned off the light, lied back in bed and prayed like I do every night.  While praying last night I broke down and cried hard.  I'm tired of feeling this way.  I feel so empty, like there's nothing that can make me happy.  I have no interest in other women, because I have nothing to give.  I gave my heart to you and you still have it.  My empty chest can't provide anything to anyone.  As much as I want to see you and talk with you and be with you, I fear that I'm so dead, that I'll actually turn you off.  So I'm in this terrible funk where my separation from you is causing all this suffering, yet to see you too soon would probably hurt my chances for what I ultimately hope for: to be with you again.  Which leaves me with no real choice but to continue suffering, wondering if you still love me and if we will have a future together again.  I had the missed call from you back on Saturday, April 7th, but I haven't heard from you since then.  What am I to think?  Am I being impatient like I have been in the past?  Or am I a fool that's holding out hope in a hopeless situation?  I'm scared of losing you.  I'm not ignorant of our rough times, but I always thought that we'd get through everything.  I felt that we had something special, that could not be destroyed, that would survive every challenge no matter what.  Was I right?  Or was I wrong?  I love you and I miss you so much.  I remember you were with me when I bought this pad of paper at Rite-Aid at 23rd & Walnut.  I never would've guessed that one day I'd be writing love letters, of a love lost, to you on this very pad of paper.  We both have things that we need to work on, need to learn, but I thought we had a good relationship -- all the hours we spent together, all the things we did together.  Why can't we be together now?  Like Michael Grimm covered Al Green on America's Got Talent: "Let's Stay Together."  Please Ileana, I love you.  Love,

Dear Ileana, Another night and another step closer to the abyss.  I don't see a future for myself.  I don't like being alone any more.  I really can't stand other women because none of them compare to you.  In fact I pissed off Cherise tonight (she's in town this week for business; she's staying in a hotel all week), when I told her that I never wanna be with another woman if it isn't with you (meaning you, Ileana).  She got angry and told me I was being dramatic.  I said that that's how I truly feel in my heart, so I don't think that's dramatic, even if that's her opinion.  Yet objectively, I maybe look foolish, especially if the whole truth, both sides are put side-by-side.  I say that because I'm feeling negative still; I have this sinking feeling that you may already be dating someone else and sleeping with them.  Is this true?  Please be honest with me; at this point, you probably have nothing to lose.  Plus, as you can see from all these letters, I'm still hanging on; if I know you're falling in love with someone else, then I'll know that you no longer love me and I'll have to move on.  Right now, I can't, because I don't want to; I still love you, so I have hope that we'll be together again.  And if I think you're just alone, then I'll keep up hope that you'll come back to me someday.  Do you see where it's actually nicer to tell me the hard truth? rather than know that you're making me lose time and suffer for a possibility that's not really possible?  That's why I ask you, out of all respect and decency, please -- in a nice but direct way -- tell me the truth.  And don't water it down.  Tell it to me straight -- if you're falling in love with someone else, if you already love someone else, if you're in a relationship with someone else, if you've moved in with someone else, if you have a new boyfriend, if you're consistently having sex with someone else.  Just tell me the truth and then I'll realize that I've lost you.  I thought we had something rare and good and special; but if you don't agree, then it doesn't matter what I think.  Love,

Dear Ileana, Let me warn you, I'm feeling kinda negative tonight.  My fear is winning out over my hope.  I have this bad feeling that you may have slept with someone already, at least in a literal sense and maybe also in a sexual sense.  The thought of either one, but particularly the latter, hurts me and makes me feel sick to my stomach.  It hurts to think of you with someone else.  I don't want you to be with anyone else!  I want you to be with me.  We have such good chemistry and passion, I don't know why you'd wanna be with anyone else.  I don't want to be with another woman but you.  I want us to hug and kiss and everything else every night.  I want to fall asleep next to you.  I want to wake up next to you.  This sucks, I hope to God you're not with anyone else!  I'm just so baffled by how we got here.  Can you please explain to me someday what happened on Friday, March 2nd?  It was so sudden and out of the blue.  I thought we were doing okay and heading in a good direction.  If there was something I should've done, or shouldn't have done, or should've done differently, I wish you would've talked to me and let me know.  Only 1 week before you had written me in a text: "I want you to trust me.  I can be faithful to you."  You wrote that on Thursday, February 23rd, only 8 days before you left me.  What happened???  Where did things go wrong???  Were you telling me, but I wasn't listening?  Was I just plain ignorant?  If you just needed some space, then I would've been okay with that; all I was asking for in return was regular communication.  Ileana, I honestly, deep down in my heart, think we are very, very good for each other, if only we communicate well.  I need to be kinder in my words to you and more patient overall; You need to be more willing to talk to me, as opposed to shutting down, especially when you're angry at me.  If we could do our part, our relationship would be great, because it was when there was no conflict or anger.  But it all ended because you shut down.  Please come back!  Love,

Dear Ileana, I have never loved another woman the way that I love you.  I hope we can be together again some day.  I know I need to be patient.  I know I need to give you space.  I feel like, in a lot of ways, we were both premature at getting back together in January, but we both feared too much time going by for fear of losing each other, when in fact we should've had faith that we'd still love each other even as some more time went by.  I feel like we were premature, we should've let more of the negative emotions -- guilt and resentment -- dissipate before getting back together again.  So, with the hope of actually learning our lessons, I'm trying my hardest to stay patient and respect your space.  But its getting really hard and I'm starting to feel the urge to take action, to do something, to reach out to you.  I'm thinking about your missed call from last Saturday and I'm very tempted to call you back.  Its so hard not having you as part of my daily life.  Its frustrating too because tonight is Saturday night and I can only imagine what you're doing.  I pray to God that you don't do anything impulsive.  I'm gonna say it point-blank: I miss having sex with you.  I miss when we get naked standing up and hug each other.  I miss getting under the blankets with you.  I miss the excitement of kissing you.  I really miss going down on you.  I miss you going down on me.  I miss grabbing your ass.  I miss seeing your beautiful face by the twilight of your or my bedroom.  I miss touching and kissing your body all over.  I really miss kissing your neck.  I miss holding hands with you, in bed, walking down the street, on the couch, anywhere.  I miss your beautiful body Ileana.  I don't want to be intimate with any woman but you.  I miss you so much.  And that's part of why its so hard for me to be patient and respect your space, though recent history tells me that I must.  It will make it all the sweeter when we are finally together again.  I hope you feel and want the same thing.  Love,

Dear Ileana, I cried again tonight because I miss you so much.  I'm not sure what else to say right now.  I'm writing all these letters because I want you to see, know, and believe some day when you read them that I really, truly do love you, and I don't want to be with anyone but you.  But then I wonder: has there ever been a question that I love you?  For the most part I think: not really.  Then I think that if you focus on my biggest mistakes, my most hurtful moments towards you, then I think that maybe you have questioned my love for you.  And my response to that is: I love you with my whole heart and soul, so much so that, if I can't be with you, I prefer to be alone.  I love you so much that I am willing to wait for you.  My mistakes were moments of weakness, and very hard lessons learned, of what never to do again, words and deeds for which I have prayed for God's forgiveness, and for which I beg for your forgiveness.  My love for you is so great that I am committed to accepting responsibility for those mistakes and making change to be a better man.  I believe I've been doing that and I'll keep doing that.  But anyway, I'm kinda getting off track, because I believe you already know that I love you; at least I hope so.  If I understand our break-up, then I think the true question is whether you love me.  And I think you need time and space apart from me to discover the answer.  In my heart, I believe you love me, but you've been hurt by me, and you reacted to that hurt in ways that you now feel guilty about, which makes it even more difficult to both give and receive love.  That's my opinion, and I pray to God that I'm right, because if I am, then ultimately, at our core, we both love each other deeply.  And if that is true, then we will be together again, according to God's will.  I have faith (that's definitely being tested) that this break will allow negativity to dissipate and go away, to be replaced by forgiveness, and finally true love.  Love,

Dear Ileana, I'm so sad.  My life feels so empty without you in it.  Yeah, I've got a great network of friends and people that care about me.  And I thank God for those people because I don't know where I'd be or how I'd feel without them and their support.  But Ileana, no one can replace you.  I don't believe there's a single person in this world that could ever replace you.  I miss you so much it hurts.  Then I wonder, have I depended on you too much for my happiness?  If so, that's a problem, and it explains how I'm feeling now.  And it makes sense that maybe you did the same with me.  And if that's so, then that was a form of pressure that we put on each other.  And that makes sense too.  Looking back, and not even that far, I should've encouraged you and made sure, for example, that you went to that all-day panel at Taller just a month or so ago.  And you should've encouraged me to buy a bicycle and start riding it regularly.  We both should've pushed each other to follow-through on private salsa lessons: it would've been fun and it would've brought us closer together.  I think we both unintentionally fell into the trap of our daily routines.  This is a big lesson we both need to learn, and hopefully God willing, with each other.  I hope you know, Ileana, that I didn't intend for you to feel in "handcuffs," like you said in our last conversation.  You should know that because I've always been one to go out, to party, to eat, to walk, to go on adventures, etc., and you know that because we've done all of those things together.  I wanna do those things with you again: I want to travel to new places, I want to go dancing frequently (so I get better too!), I want to go on random, spontaneous adventures within and outside the city, I want to try new activities that we've never done.  In a nutshell, I want to live life, deeply and happily, with you Ileana.  I want no one else but you and I know we can do this. Love,

Dear Ileana, It's now been 40 days and 40 nights since you've left me.  I guess this milestone may be biblically important, but to me it's just a sad reminder that I've gone that long without you in my life.  I will say, though, that every morning you are the first thing on my mind and every night you are the last thing on my mind.  I also want to let you know that I pray to God every single night before falling asleep, and I often pray for God to protect you, lead you away from temptation, and to heal your heart too.  I'm definitely still in the process of healing.  While talking with Diane earlier today, I realized that I sounded so bitter about things with us.  Afterwards I felt shameful, because I know in my heart that I love you.  It's just that I feel very hurt still, that's just the truth.  I want to heal.  I want to forgive you.  I also want to forgive myself for some things that I've said and done.  This will all take time.  A few people have acted or been surprised that I'm so torn up about you.  In fact, I've been so depressed that I've missed a lot of work.  That opinion (of a few) reminds me of something you thought about me before you moved out, when you thought that you couldn't appreciate any of my attention because you didn't think it was genuine enough.  And that opinion of me really hurts me a lot.  Why did you not believe that my love for you was genuine?  Yeah, I made some mistakes, but I admit them, and I'm sorry for them, and I hope you forgive me; but I have always loved you.  And the fact that some others are surprised that I'm so hurt, I don't understand!  I love you, Ileana.  So the fact that you're not with me is killing me.  It's pretty straightforward.  So why don't some others believe???  I haven't left you and I haven't quickly moved on to some other girl from South America!  I LOVE YOU!!!  God knows this is true; I cried just last night in the middle of my prayer to God.  If I have to prove it to the whole world, I will.  But first, I want you to believe me.  I love you Ileana.  Love,

Dear Ileana, I was just thinking back and I realized that it's already been 6 months since I went to Montreal. It makes me feel sad, because I felt like that may have been the last time that we were really on the same page.  I remember when I crossed the street late at night, and we hugged, and you told me that you missed me, and I felt so amazingly happy to be in your arms again.  Just writing about it now brings tears to my eyes, I felt so happy!  I really thought and felt that we were on the same page.  So where did we go wrong?  I feel like, below the surface, maybe I still felt hurt and resentful of the Whisper incident and maybe those feelings weren't fully resolved, through apology and forgiveness.  Perhaps similarly, below the surface, maybe, probably you still felt hurt and resentful of things I had said and done to you, and maybe those feelings weren't fully resolved, through apology and forgiveness.  If we stand any chance at being together again, we have to heal, and I have faith that will certainly happen.  The true question is whether there will still be love in our hearts for each other at that point.  If so, I think we would have to finish that process of sincere, heartfelt apology, followed by genuine forgiveness.  To this very day, I do not believe that we ever intended to hurt one another.  I never meant to hurt you, Ileana, and I don't believe that you ever meant to hurt me.  We both know each other very well, and we both know that we're good people.  But when we both realized that we had hurt the other, at times very deeply, our guilt began to mount, while our trust in the other began to diminish.  If we had recognized that, and like you had said, if we had resolved our issues, I believe in the bottom of my heart that we'd be together, happy and stronger for the experience.  I still pray to God, if it is God's will, that we can be together again, happy and good.  Love,

Dear Ileana, I just got back from Tom Burke's viewing.  After kneeling at the side of his open casket and saying a prayer, I had to step outside to cry.  Seeing him dead brought to the surface all the terrible feelings of loss that have been in my heart since losing you.  I cried.  I prayed to God, as I have every single day since you left me.  God knows how much I've been suffering.  To have been with you and to have been in contact with you for almost every day for nearly two and a half years, and then suddenly you abandon me completely and even block forms of communication is like a form of death, but yet I know you're still close by, alive and breathing, and I have no idea who you're with, what you're doing, and whether I exist for you.  Losing you has been one of the most difficult experiences of my life.  Where did we go wrong???  Are we past the point of no return?  Is there any chance for us to be together again?  I'm still reading the Bible.  I'm almost done with Psalms.  I reflect on the example God set in the Old Testament: He kept loving the Israelites, even though time and time again, they forget about Him and they turn their back on Him, but they eventually realize time after time that God's love is true, so they always return to God.  I wonder, I dream, could it be that way with you and me?  Can we come back to each other some day? and get it right, learn from our lessons, and treat each other right?  Or am I a silly dreamer, holding on to a fantasy that you don't have, that you might even laugh at?  I don't know what to say, how to feel.  I just know that, despite the negative feelings that still linger (and I pray to God will dissipate and disappear), I miss you so very much and I still love you.  There's no other woman I want but you.  Love,

Dear Ileana, I really miss you a lot.  I think you're an amazing young woman, both intelligent and beautiful.  You're a rare breed and I'm sure you know it.  I really miss our time together.  I thought we had a good thing, but I guess you don't agree.  And as attracted as I am to you, I guess you don't feel the same way about me.  I don't understand why you moved in with me.  I don't understand why you came back to me in January and February.  I don't understand why you promised to be exclusive.  I don't understand why you started dating me at all.  I don't think you ever loved me, not for one day, not even for one minute.  I don't even think you ever liked me.  So why did you start dating me?  Is it because you wanted to teach a lesson to Stefan: that he was making a mistake by leaving you for Brazil?  Do you think you were successful at teaching him that lesson?  Do you realize that you did it at the expense of a man's heart and over two years of a man's mortal life?  You used me as an instrument.  You used me.  Put yourself in my shoes, in my head, and in my heart.  How do you think I feel?  Despite all the hurt you've put me through, I still love you.  And that's the really hard thing to deal with right now.  You dragged me along, not realizing that my love for you kept getting deeper and deeper.  Its hard for me to imagine my life without you, yet that's exactly what's been forced on me.  I guess I should start thinking of moving on.  But each and every day is a struggle.  I think of you non-stop.  You're still in my heart.  But what choice do I have?  I just wish you had been honest with me all along, but most especially at the end.  I don't think you were.  In fact, I know you weren't, because your words and actions were so wildly inconsistent that something, some parts of that, had to have been a fraudulent act.  Why?  Love,