Towards Good Health

Once again, I've left myself very little time to write, so once again I'll have to write some short blurbs.

I took a bike ride today, just as I did last Wednesday.  It felt good.  By the time I came inside I was drenched in sweat and still sweating more.  My lung capacity is nowhere near top shape, but hopefully I can continue moving in a positive direction.  Both rides were about a half-hour long (32 minutes today, 29 minutes last week, to be exact).

This coming Sunday will be Father Ed's last mass as pastor at St. Charles Borromeo.  It's gonna be hard to imagine St. Charles without him.  I hope that the parish (including me) can make the transition positively.

I miss the fun, competitiveness, and togetherness of high school football.  It was a unique experience in my life and one that I think about often.  There's nothing like it as an adult.  Although the competitive aspects of being a lawyer sometimes come close, I can't say that it's as fun as playing football and my most recent chapter certainly lacks the togetherness that characterized my high school football experience.

Tonight Jeannie cooked cheese ravioli with spaghetti sauce with meatballs and spinach for dinner.  It was good.  We ate it while watching The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy on tv.  Although I fell asleep for part of it, it was a decent movie.

Since I've been on paternity leave, I feel that my physical health and mental health have both improved.  I've been exercising every weekday since I've been on leave, which has led me to feel better already.  And simply being away from the negative, personality-dulling effects of the office, I've felt much better about myself.  On both counts, physical and mental, I know that I have more progress to make in direction of good health and feeling good about myself, but I know I'm heading the right way for both.  It's a good feeling, and for that I thank God.

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.

Sorry for the Delay

We haven't had internet access at home for about three weeks, thus the delay since my last post.  I got sick of Comcast repeatedly trying to raise their rates for cable and internet without offering any additional service.  Why would anyone in their right mind pay more money for the same amount of the same thing?  The only exception to the obvious answer is if you are paying for a limited (or more to the point, diminishing) commodity, which of course cable and internet are not.  So, we switched to DirecTV and Verizon FiOS.  And so far, we're happy.

So, what can I say about the last three weeks?  On Sunday, June 8th, Jeannie and I got confirmed at the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul.  Archbishop Charles Chaput conducted the confirmation.  Just before it was my turn, I bowed slightly before the cathedra (throne, or chair, where the archbishop was sitting).  After the archbishop confirmed me, he shook my hand, to which I said, "Thank you, Your Excellency.  May God bless you."  Jeannie was confirmed right after me.  It was a very nice ceremony, though it lasted a very long time due to the large number of mostly children receiving their confirmation.  Afterwards, knowing that it was too late to go home and cook dinner, Jeannie, Seva and I went to dinner at Asia on the Parkway.  It was a beautiful evening, so we dined al fresco.  Mentioning Seva reminds me that she slept through the entire ceremony; that in itself was a blessing.

But the spotlight was on Seva just one week later, on Sunday, June 15th, when she was baptized by Father Ed at our church, St. Charles Borromeo.  Once again, though, even with the spotlight on her, Seva did a great job of maintaining grace under pressure.  Father Ed gave a warning to us that the baptismal water was cold, which initially shocked Seva, but only five minutes later she was sound asleep.  It was pretty funny.  Also funny was Father Ed's comment to us afterward, saying something to the effect of "you've run out of sacraments."  It's true that we've made a nice run on sacraments in the past few months: our marriage, Jeannie's first communion, our confirmation, and Seva's baptism.  I guess we get to be regular parishioners now.

The other recent event that's been exciting has been the 2014 FIFA World Cup.  I could go on and on about the World Cup matches so far, but I'll avoid that temptation for now.  All I'll say is that I've very much enjoyed watching the matches.

Saw Ireland vs. Costa Rica at PPL Park, section 119, row J, seat 3 for $40.00 with Jess, Mita, and Eric.

Church: Baptism and Confirmation

From today's Gospel reading: "But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth."  John 16:12-15.  Just before logging on here, I read this.  In the name of Jesus, I pray for guidance.  Guide me, oh God, to the truth of who I am and where I should be.  Lead me away from temptations and from dead-ends.  Like any relationship, carry me forward, transport me to the future that awaits me, lead me to a position where you may best work through me to bring about your will.  I always pray that God bless, protect, and guide my family and loved ones.  Now, in addition to those repeated prayers for my family and loved ones, I ask that God bless, protect, and most especially these days guide me.

Tonight we ate chicken breasts and drumsticks, seasoned with Adobo with pepper, and green bean casserole on the side; I was responsible for the former, Jeannie for the latter.  As usual, we began with an appetizer of house salad: romaine lettuce leaves, grape tomatoes, crumbled gorgonzola cheese, dried cranberries, and candied walnuts.

While eating dinner we watched the movie Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues.  For all the bad press and negative reactions when it came out, I was thoroughly surprised.  I think it was as good as the first movie, more absurd and fantastic in its humor, but for my taste just as funny.

Right now, I can hear Seva fussing around in her crib upstairs, on the brink of crying.  I'm pretty sure she fights the feeling of falling asleep.  I also believe that she doesn't like to be left alone.  It should be interesting to see how these traits remain or adapt over the course of time as she gets older.  I'm also curious to see what kind of personality she's going to have or develop.  We love her so much.

I sent a letter by regular mail to Pito yesterday, inviting him to Seva's upcoming baptism.  I'm guessing he'll get the letter tomorrow.  I expect that he'll probably respond by immediately sending an email to me.  We'll see if he actually comes to Philadelphia.  I'd put the chances of that happening at around 10%.

Jeannie and I are set to be confirmed on Sunday, June 8th.  For me, this will finally be the confirmation that was denied me by Father Daniel Mahoney at Holy Name of Jesus Church in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania so many years ago, around the time I was in the 6th or 7th grade.  Father Mahoney refused to allow me to be confirmed, because I was going to wear sneakers to the confirmation.  It's ironic and pitiful that he was so doctrinaire that he would not let me be confirmed; ironic because I would venture to guess that Jesus Christ himself never wore a suit or dress shoes and pitiful because this story demonstrates that Father Mahoney was a sinner by putting doctrine above faith.  Upon a quick search just now, I see that Father Mahoney died in 2007.  May God forgive his sins and may he rest in peace.  And I thank God that I'll be confirmed in the Church in just a couple weeks from now.  As you, dear reader, may know from my posts over these past few months, I've been warmly welcomed at St. Charles Borromeo and I am committed to the Church.  I look forward to being confirmed.  Thanks be to God.

Week-End, and Origins of the name Seva

Another Memorial Day weekend in the books.  Jeannie, Seva, and I just got back from visiting Mita and Eric.  We had dinner together there: hot dogs, baked beans, and corn on the cob.  Our dessert was muffins topped with ice cream (my combo being double chocolate chip muffin topped with vanilla ice cream).

While there, my friend Shay called me back.  Jeannie, Seva, and I took a drive to New Jersey on Saturday afternoon and I stopped by a house in Cherry Hill, where the online white pages indicated Shay may live.  Luckily I was right.  His wife answered the door and chatted with Jeannie and me for a few minutes, catching me up on a few details of Shay's life.  Unlucky for me, though, Shay himself wasn't there, so I left my personal business card with his wife and she gave his cell phone number to me.  The connection was completed when he called me tonight.  And I hope to complete the circle when we, hopefully, get together some time soon.  During our short conversation tonight, he said that I was "like a brother" to him, which made me very happy.  I was very happy to hear his voice, for the first time in many years.  And I hope to see him within the next month, so we can finally catch up and renew our friendship.

Now, since it's still early in Seva's life, I want to tell the story of how we chose her name.  Jeannie had shared with me early in the pregnancy that, at some point when she was younger, in college if I recall correctly, she had a dream in which her daughter's name was revealed to her.  The name revealed was Evelyn.  So, Jeannie carried that name with her as she got older and kept it in mind as a name for her daughter.  I listened to Jeannie's story with an open mind.  I wasn't sold on the name Evelyn, but it was early in the pregnancy, so I didn't judge or decide, I just let it be.  At some time later, perhaps about halfway through the pregnancy, after Jeannie had told me that she was open to considering other names, I thought to myself about our daughter's mixture, namely racially and culturally in heritage and ancestry and I wanted to identify a name that somehow captured that worldliness.  I also thought about my own name, which is short and simple, but also unique, that is, not common in American culture.  I wanted to identify a name that also captured that simplicity, but otherness that I was looking for.  So one night, while here at home (in the same spot where I'm typing this now), I went on to Google maps to look at a map of France to look at names of towns and villages, hoping that one might grab my attention.  I started around Paris, zoomed in pretty far so I could catch names of many of the smaller villages too.  Nothing grabbed my eye, so I slowly scrolled south, south, south, until I got to the Mediterranean Sea, where I slowly panned down the coast, until I crossed the border into Spain, right around Barcelona, when I noticed the village name "Seva."  I liked it immediately.  I opened another tab to Google the name Seva and it came up with a disambiguation page on Wikipedia (here), which showed that the name also refers to selfless service, volunteer work, and work offered to God. That sealed the deal.  I loved the name from that moment.  So I called Jeannie, without telling her the name, and asked her to look on the map to see if she would identify the same name as I had.  She couldn't find it or she completely overlooked it, I'm not sure which one.  After several minutes, and feeling disappointed, I showed the name to her.  I told her not to make a decision, but just to let the name sink in and add it into consideration.  I'm pretty sure I explained the other meanings of the word and my logic leading up to it (in line with what I just wrote above).  Months went by, the pregnancy went on until the end.  I never brought it up again, although internally I was definitely pulling hard for the name Seva.  Jeannie brought it up a handful of times, showing that she was certainly considering it and I think testing it out as your name, but I never responded one way or the other.  I wanted to make sure that she wasn't led to the decision, but instead reached it on her own.  As I recall, it wasn't until the moment you were born, when the midwife or nurse asked for your name, I looked at Jeannie and she said "Seva," and I wholeheartedly agreed.  I love the name.  And in the 6 weeks since you've been born, we've gotten a lot of positive reaction to the name, making me love it even more.

An Ode to Last Night

There was light

from the candles inside

from the string of white lights

There was wind

from the ceiling fan

from the cool night breeze

There was smoke

from the cigars in hand

from the candle wicks too

There was drink

from the glass of malbec

from the bottles of Imperial

There was word

from the stories we told

from the songs we heard

There was life

from memories shared

from our night with friends

--- inspired by our night (Saturday, May 24, 2014) with Katy, Andrew, Grace, and Andrew's sister, who joined Jeannie, Seva, Rocky & the Baby, and me at our place for post-dinner (La Calaca Feliz) drinks and cigars

Hoops and Seva

This evening, after I got home from work, I got changed and immediately went over to the court at 18th & Catharine to shoot hoops.  The weather was pretty nice and I really wanted to do something physical to release some lethargic energy from my system.

When I got there, there was a guy at the other end of the court.  He asked me to play one-on-one right away.  I told him that I needed a few minutes to warm-up, plus I wanted to see if others would come so we could play 2-on-2 or 3-on-3.  He was cool with that.  So I shot around for about 10 or 15 minutes, and without anyone else having showed up, and him having come down to my end of the court (I guess hoping that I would play), I told him I was ready to play.  We played by ones inside the arc, two outside, up to 11, win by 2.  I beat him.  I think the final score was something like 11-6.  I felt good.  I had a pretty good handle on the ball, and I stole the ball from him at least three times.  I shot decently from mid-range, using the backboard quite a bit.

While we were playing, another guy showed up and called 'winner.'  I took a breather after winning the first game.  The second guy was shorter and more rotund that the first guy, who was lean and tall (though not as tall as me).  I went up on him 8-1 and it looked like I was going to rack up another win.  But then he started hitting 2-point shots from behind the arc, about four in a row, then he made another nice shot.  And before I knew it, I was losing 10-8.  I got the ball back and hit a 2-pointer of my own, tying the game at 10-10.  From that point on, the weak, atrophied state of my respiratory system began to level the playing field and I just didn't have as much gas in the tank as I had in the first game against the other guy.  After a long and impressive deadlock, my opponent deservedly beat me 12-10.

A couple other guys had come by in the meantime, and Jeannie and Seva were on the sidelines since about halfway through the first game, so I decided to bow out for a break, thinking that if one more guy showed-up, I'd been in for one more game of 3-on-3.  That never happened, though, so I eventually played a game of horse with Jeannie at the western end of the court, while the other guys played 2-on-2 at the eastern end.  It was nice to shoot around with Jeannie.  Seva started getting a little fussy or impatient towards the end, so Jeannie and I took turns shooting 10 shots from the free throw line, Jeannie hitting 2 and me hitting 4, when a couple raindrops started coming down.  I yelled good-bye to the guys at the other end of the court and we headed home, just in time as some more rain started falling.  Overall, the hour or so at the basketball court served its purpose: I got some air, blow off some steam, worked up a sweat, and had fun for a while.

Just a minute ago, I went upstairs to talk to Jeannie.  She was in Seva's room, trying to calm her down in her crib, hoping that she goes to sleep soon.  I asked Jeannie what she'd like me to write here, to remember how Seva has been doing and progressing these days.  And so I offer the following for posterity...  Seva has been holding her head up more often and for longer stretches of time.  She's now doing much better at recognizing our faces when she looks at us.  As a matter of fact, when I got home from work yesterday and today, I went up to Seva to say hi, and she clearly recognized me when she saw me, and smiled both days!  It made me so happy.  I know there are a lot more developmental steps along the way, but I'm looking forward to when Seva is a little girl who can walk and talk.

Anyway, getting back to her present progress, Seva is becoming more comfortable with lying down for periods of time in the crib and in the pack'n'play, while awake, without crying or being fussy.  She's also developing just a little bit more color to her skin, not as pale as she was when she was born.  I predicted to Jeannie the other night (yesterday?) while walking down South Street that Seva will continue to develop her skin color, especially as we continue to spend time outside.

The only real frustration on my part is that there are times when Seva cries, and even screams, to the point of being inconsolable for reasons that are beyond us.  We can only guess that she's resisting falling asleep for some reason.  It's frustrating for us, because Jeannie is pushed to the max in terms of sleeplessness and I'm, to a much lesser extent, also negatively impacted in my sleep schedule, which effects my productivity and my mood sometimes.  But I think we both know this is par for the course, though we're ready for the time when Seva can sleep through the night.

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.

Mid-week Musings

Immediately upon getting home from work today, I changed into a t-shirt, shorts, and sneakers and walked over to the basketball court at the southwest corner of Marian Anderson Park, at 18th & Catharine Streets.  As a sidenote, the t-shirt I wore was my black Singha Lager Beer t-shirt that I bought on a corner store in Bangkok on the last night of my TLC tour (Thailand, Laos, Cambodia) with Paul.

It felt good to be out.  I was there for over an hour, the first 45 minutes by myself and last 15 minutes or more with Jeannie and Seva.  I was shooting the ball pretty well tonight.  I'll periodically shoot 10 free throws in a row.  When I did so at one point tonight, I went 8 for 10, which is the best I've shot in the few times I've played recently.  After Jeannie got there, we played a game of horse (as we did last time) and I won with only an "H" against me.  I'll grant Jeannie that I was warmed up nicely by the time she got there.  But the point still remains: I was shooting very well tonight.  It felt good and made me miss playing basketball.

The day started out on a different note.  I slept in until 11am.  Today, of course, is Wednesday, thus mid-week and I just needed a break to catch up on rest.  Seva has been an absolute blessing, but she has certainly altered our sleep schedule, which is to say that I haven't slept for eight hours straight since before she was born.  Since I didn't have any morning appointments at the office, I figured I would just stay home and sleep in.

It may not have been the responsible thing to do, but I've always been one to follow my intuition.  If my body is telling me to sleep in, then I'll very likely sleep in.  My health is one of my most important priorities.  I know others that pride themselves on being into the office every day by such and such time.  I really don't care about that; I'm not trying to impress anybody.  My goals are staying healthy and getting my work done, even if it's not within the cookie-cutter schedule that some others would prefer to squeeze me into.

A random note from yesterday.  I went to lunch at Beck's Cajun Cafe at Reading Terminal Market.  As you may remember from my post the other day, I've been loving the vibe I get at RTM these days.  And as you can probably easily glean from my posts over the past year relating to work, I'm always happy to be anywhere but at the office.  So my lunch hour yesterday was a win-win.  I had the blackened chicken breast po' boy topped with a sprinkling of their devil dust ("everything seasoning & dry rub") every few bites.  It was pretty good.

Another random note, this time relating to a current event.  Yesterday a federal judge struck down Pennsylvania's ban on same-sex marriage.  And today, Governor Tom Corbett announced that his administration is not going to appeal the decision, meaning that marriage equality has now come to Pennsylvania, the last state in the Northeast to do so, if I'm not mistaken.  I have no problem with this.  In fact, I'm in support of marriage equality.

But all the buzz on social media in support of these current events has provoked a criticism on my part.  I've seen so many friends post and re-post the same couple of articles over and over again on facebook.  It's like they're all parroting each other.  And on a very "safe" position for the year 2014.  It ranks up there with anti-racism against blacks as one of the safest social positions in this day and age.  And this is my criticism: nearly all liberals are too scared to stand up for anything but a non-controversial position.

Can I blame them?  I guess not, most people by nature are going to maintain their self-preservation, most people by their nature want to be liked by the most people possible.  But it's bullshit when everyone is too scared to stick out or do anything contrary to the masses.  For example, it's easy for liberals to be angry at a guy like Donald Sterling, because he says something (wrong, yes) that fits squarely within the "racism against blacks" category, against which all liberals are champions and defenders.  And now, it's easy for liberals to post and re-post articles reporting that Pennsylvania is a marriage equality state, since that fits squarely within the pro-gay marriage category.

If you hear me, then ask yourself: what are the edgy social issues of the future? what are the social issues that are not yet ripe according to the masses, but are still the right thing to stand for today? in what way(s) are the masses complacent to something unfair or biased or bullshit?  Who's going to identify these issues and wake up the liberals who are too scared or blind to see the next step?  As my friend Andrew would probably agree (based on a pendulum theory he shared with me), in what way(s) has the pendulum swung too far in another direction, creating an unfair or unjust imbalance?

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.

Future Readers, Forgive Me

Dear future readers,

If you've found this blog and most especially if I've written about you here, please forgive me.  I hope my thoughts have been sincere; I surely intended them to be so.  If I was mean or unfair, forgive me.  Many times when I write, it's because I have strong feelings.  I hope that those feelings haven't skewed my ability to be fair and reasonable.  I also hope that I haven't fallen too much into the trap of assuming too much, inaccurately reading between the lines, misperceiving people's words or actions, especially by taking something personally when I shouldn't have.

I'm human, though, just like you.  That means that I'm a sinner just like you.  I have my weaknesses and temptations, and at this age, I'm pretty aware of what those are -- even still, I continue to be tempted and I still sometimes think that I could have handled this situation or that in a different way.  But oftentimes I'm tired or selfish or, again as above, I misinterpret the situation and thus react to the situation as it exists in my perception rather than act according to the objective reality of a situation.  But am I that different from you in that way?  We're all individuals, looking at the world through our own set of eyes, and can never -- none of us! -- know exactly what the other person is thinking or feeling.  Even if you attempted to do so, you'd be doing so at the expense of your duties and responsibilities -- your duty to eat and sleep and piss and shit, as well as your responsibilities to go to school or to work and do your homework or your job.  Those things get in the way of really getting to know other people as completely as you'd like.  So we're all left doing the best we can.  And sinning all along the way, whether it's due to our selfishness or jealousy, or quickness to anger or sadness, or on the other end of the spectrum, tendency not to react or care about others.

So, if I've written about you here, and if I've hurt your feelings in any way for what I've said, please forgive me.  Perhaps this is the raw truth that I was too scared (or prudent) to voice out loud.  Or perhaps this is simply my narrow, subjective view of who you are, or our relationship, or what I've seen you do or say.

Also remember: time.  Time flies.  Time heals all wounds.  Once upon a time.  What I wrote may have existed for just that moment, then later events modified my mindset, altering the validity of what I wrote.  Maybe you changed, so I like you better (or worse) now.  Or maybe I changed, and realized how wrong I was, or simply widened my understanding, and thus did my perspective and concomitant opinion.  So among the three variables of me, you, and time, is the equation still the same?  Certainly not.  Thus, take with a grain of salt whatever I've written.  Or just accept it as a fleeting truth that now exists in the same vein of the photos in an old newspaper: images which captured that very moment in time, but reflect something that does not exist any more, except as a memory in and of itself.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not necessarily trying to relieve any responsibility for effects of my writing.  I'm just trying to put it in perspective, for me and you both.

I hope that I've been sincere.  I hope that I've written from the heart, since so many times it's been me alone with a pen in a journal (later transcribed to this blog) or me alone in front of my computer, typing away, pouring my thoughts and my feelings into words on a page.  I hope that I've been real.  Because some day, in a future not too far away, I'll no longer be real.  But these words shall remain.  And I hope to God that there may be something of value here, not for anything earth-shattering, but simply for being from the heart.  My heart.  To yours...

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.

Concern yourself . . . with what it is still possible for you to do

"Consult not your fears but your hopes and dreams.  Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential.  Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do."  -- Saint John XXIII

I saw this quote on a large visual display at the back of church today.  I pointed it out to Jeannie.  I really like the quote.  It resonates with me when I think about my work life.  And so, it speaks to me when I think about my future.  I've written recently about trying to let go of the negative and just do my thing, but it's still not always easy.  As I explained to Madhu yesterday, [...]'s move to the new location has been the focus of everyone's energy and attention.  And the new space is pretty nice, so I think it makes everyone feel good while everything is still fresh and new.  But knowing that, I don't want to ignore the reality that lies below the surface and the fact that my head has been hitting the ceiling for a while and that I just don't belong.

Speaking of Madhu, Jeannie and I went for a picnic yesterday in Rittenhouse Square and we invited Madhu and Diana to join us.  We had a great afternoon.  Jeannie, Seva, and I had the first half-hour or so to ourselves.  We laid down a double-folded sheet on to the ground and began eating the lunch that Jeannie had packed for us.  Seva was very comfortable.  The weather was nearly perfect in terms of the temperature, with the occasional breeze.  There were a lot of people out.  We set-up our sheet next to a group of people who had an iPod playing some music.  I told Jeannie that the vibe from the group next to us reminded me of a Gettysburg spring semester off-campus party, from the music they were playing to the way they dressed to the way they hung around and made major progress on a bunch of beer cans.  Although I can't say that I ever fit in with that crowd or sub-culture, the vibe definitely made me feel a bit nostalgic.

Returning to the perspective of our perspective, we had a nice afternoon chatting with Madhu and Diana on all sorts of life topics, that I won't even get into here.  Needless to say we had a great time.  And Madhu and Diana each did a great job holding Seva in their respective turns.  Having turned 3 weeks old yesterday, I'm getting the impression that Seva is happy when she feels close and comfortable with others and, if that's satisfied, then she's pretty easy-going.  If my take on her disposition is accurate, then I think she'll do very well for herself as she gets older.  I guess time will tell.

Later, after we'd been sitting on the lawn for a while and everyone was beginning to feel different degrees of restless, we decided to get up to walk through the Rittenhouse Row Spring Festival as it was wrapping up.  Jeannie got a white sangria at the stand for Alma de Cuba, where Madhu got a bottle of water.  We continued walking until we got to Broad Street, where we hung a right, then turned left on to Pine Street, then turned right down a side street (perhaps Juniper) to head over to South Street. Spring Festival.  As with the first, there wasn't really much to see or do, especially since we wanted to avoid the loud music.  We noticed a food truck for arepas, but it was closed.  But then, right as we were about to cross 4th Street, I looked to my left and saw the actual restaurant to which the food truck belonged: Delicias.  I pointed it out to everyone and we decided to go in.  We all got our own variation of arepas: Madhu got carnitas de masa, I got pabellon, and Jeannie and Diana got vegetarian.  I think we were all pretty pleased with the food.  And the staff there was very nice and complimentary toward Seva.

We enjoyed a nice long walk west up South Street (along the way I ran into my friend Julie) and we parted ways at Broad Street.  As Jeannie and I continued on our walk home, the rain drops slowly started to come down.  As we walked into the door to our building, it started to rain.  We couldn't have timed it much better.

Last night was nice.  We laid Seva down to sleep and Jeannie and I watched The Secret Life ofWalter Mitty, which was a really good movie.  The theme of the movie was to live life to its fullest experience, which leads me back to the quote with which I opened this post.  I hope that before too long I can make a change in mindset, in role, in mission, in location, which will spark a new passion and chapter in life, one which will make me a better man.

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.

Save yourselves from this corrupt generation

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

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

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

First Week of Fatherhood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Seva

Dear Seva,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I Need to Be My Best Self

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

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

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

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

The Countdown is On

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

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

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

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

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

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