Last weekend's shoot

A few shots from last weekend...

Coming out of the closet

So today's my day off. Some local elections going on or the other. I had a political phase in college. But my arse got radically reamed for going to an anti-war protest in the morning and then finishing the day at a Support the Troops rally. So it's probably not even the same thing, and I probably have better things to do, like fold the pile of laundry scrambled across our bedroom floor.. but I thought I'd take the time to share a small piece of glee that made me smile yesterday...

Yes!!! Despite my intemperate defiance to drop my double stuf oreos and McDonalds breakfast diet.. I continue to lose weight (probably credited to my recent immunity blowouts). But nonetheless, yesterday while I got ready for blue jeans day at work, I reached for my old jeans just wishful thinking, and what do you know!!! My ass fit in my size 6 jeans again!! Let's rejoice to the heavens of all clothes non-maternity. It probably makes me sound vane, but I don't care. It feels good to be able to reach into my closet again and rummage through pre-Ethan clothes safely tucked away in the back, where it hasn't seen light in almost a year. I was so estatic I even called my size-4 sister to gloat.

Nevermind the persistent flab of extra skin hanging around my gut, I'm afraid to admit that that might actually need a little bit of workout. I'm just rejoicing in the fact that I don't have to settle for my maternity jeans anymore!!!

Driving me crazy

I've always wondered if stupid fucking drivers know that they're stupid. Why else would anyone deliberately slow down for no apparent reason only to piss the rest of us working class by making us late to work for no reason. I don't take solace in the fact that stupid drivers are everywhere. I thought they all resided in California and when we left, I thought I would be retiring from the long commutes and will be getting away from bad drivers. Boy, was I wrong..... West Virginia drivers are just as bad, if not worse. I mean I understand that between the hours of 8-9 am and 5-6 pm, there's bound to be some kind of rush hour traffic just because of the sheer volume of people trying to go to work and back. But I am convinced that the majority of gridlock is because of these stupid fucking drivers who shouldn't have been allowed to operate a motor vehicle in the first place.

So let me give you a refresher test. Answer to the best of your knowledge, or lack thereof.


1) Turn signals are optional. True or False.

They're NOT optional, you fucking idiot. They're there for a reason. You switch on your turn signals according to which lane you want to merge into, check if it's clear, and merge WHEN it's clear. And unless you're driving your dad's 1980 minivan, the damn signals should turn itself off, you don't even have to do that. And notice I said WHEN it's clear? That doesn't mean "barely" missing my car, asshole.

2) I must slow down if there's something remotely interesting on the side of the road. True or False.

Wrong again dim-wit. You're just about the single most annoying thing on the road. Don't slow down because you see the bright flashing lights of a tow truck on the OTHER side of the highway... it doesn't concern you and believe me, it will not make your life any less inane. If you really want to see how bad of a wreck it is, watch the damn news, you'll get a much better view AND you won't be backing up traffic just to satisfy your curiosity.

3) Drivers are permitted to cruise in the passing lane. True or False.

You might think you're not being a jackass because you're driving the posted speed limit and you've got your car on cruise control but then suddenly you come up to someone who's going slower than you because they're only going a mile less than the posted speed limit, so you decide you'd cruise in the passing lane but maintain your law-abiding speed. Newsflash, jackass. Get out of the passing lane. Common human
decency should tell you to move and let people pass you. I think you're the same kind of inconsiderate asshole that don't start writing the check in the grocery store until AFTER the checker rings up all your stuff... like you have to wait for the final amount before you can write the date. Who still uses checks anyway????? But I digress.

4) There's no such thing as following too close. True or False.

If I tap on my brakes and your hood ends up in my trunk, that's because you were following too close dumbass. I shouldn't be able to see what color eyes you have just by looking back on my rear view mirror. And if you really think that riding on my ass will only signal me to go faster, you got another thing coming to you. The only thing it will do to me is piss me off and make me want to drive even slower to tick you off.


If you answered True to any of the following questions... not only should you consider yourself on my shitlist... you should definitely consider changing your driving habits (before you piss someone off into roadrage and blow your head off in the middle of the highway while you play with your ipod) OR perhaps consider taking up public transportation.

Say cheese

Everyone by now knows my son has become my favorite muse to photograph. Thank God he's not camera shy.

But besides taking random photos of Ethan (sometimes even using him for my makeshift poor man's home studio), I've actually started my quest to pursuing my photography business. I already have 2 weddings booked in June, and several Engagement Session along the way. Some are pro-bono, at least until I get my portfolio together, but I don't mind, and clearly, neither do my clients. They get free photos, I use them for my portfolio. It's a win-win situation.

I shot my first Engagement session about a month ago. The bride was so impressed she's hired me for her own wedding AND recommended me a friend of hers who also booked me for her June wedding.

So I was already feeling under the weather on Saturday, but I had previously scheduled an engagement shoot and didn't want to cancel. Besides, the couple is getting married in November and has yet hired a photographer, I didn't want to miss the opportunity of booking another wedding... so I took a nap that afternoon to try to gather up some energy, popped a motrin or two and went to the park, where we said we'd meet.

I have another engagement shoot scheduled for next Saturday... I hope I feel better by then...

It's harder than I thought

I got called out for slacking on my blog, and I must say I am guilty as charged. Actually, it's not that there's hasn't been anything to write about. I just haven't had the time... or the energy... or perhaps it's both. I'm too busy trying to master the super mom status.... which I'm learning the hard way, is a hell of a LOT harder than I thought... especially if your immune system isn't exactly on your side.

So if most of you didn't already know, Mike got hurt playing basketball (again) about 2 weeks ago and tore his ligament on his right ankle in half. He has since then been walking (or hobbling) around in crutches and is scheduled to get a cast put on tomorrow that he has to keep on for 2 months. It's not too uncharacteristic for him to get hurt, I guess. In fact, he's made a legacy out of getting injured, but usually he bounces right back -- though this time might be a little different. Although the orthopedic surgeon wanted to sound as optimistic as he could, he says we'll have to wait until the cast is off to find out if Mike's going to need reconstructive surgery or just "jump" right into physical therapy. To me, it means seeing my husband hobble around for another 2 months, waiting miserably to find out wether he'll need to get under the knife again. Lately he's resorted to playing basketball on the playstation, and watching the playoffs.

Believe me, I don't mind one bit taking care of him. Mostly, he can do everything by himself unless it involves carrying anything that might spill, or carrying Ethan around. But of course, as luck would have it, my strep came back over the weekend (apparently, the doctor says it might not have fully went way the first time around), and not to mention they also diagnosed me with a kidney infection. Supposedly, I'm on "stronger" antibiotics this time... though it's hard to submit to complete bedrest when I have a husband on crutches and a baby to take care of. I'm going to take a couple of days off from work, but unfortunately, I can only muster up enough energy to take Mike to work but I hesitate taking Ethan to daycare (since it's another 30-some miles out of the way). So what's a super mom to do?

Generally, we're surviving. Ethan has mostly been cooperative and has been sleeping through the night again which is when I get all my rest.

Look Ma, No Hands!!!

Meet Elizabeth

Q: How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: One, but the light bulb has to want to change.

I read in some magazine somewhere that people who often seek out therapists are not in a position to get better in any substantial way because they have no commitment to making any real changes in their life. I completely disagree. Although seeking out professional help made me extremely uncomfortable in the beginning, I knew I needed help. In the beginning though, it felt as if I was admitting failure, or much worse, I was seeking out to subject another human being about my mayhem. I thought I could get by with Mike's insights and using blogging as my own therapy. Although nowadays, having a therapist has probably become a modern accessory.. right next to cell phones and a frequent visitor card from Starbucks. Anyway, at the time I made my fateful decision, I was getting by OK. There were days when I was happy beyond words, some were miserable, and in general, life was just manageable. But in no means did I want to keeping living by those standards... so I met with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's my new therapist. I ought not to say the word new, it's probably misleading... since I never had one before. I don't know how to describe it, but she makes me at ease like one of those Grandmothers you go to to make you feel better with her chicken soup when the rest of the world falls apart behind you. Like Mrs Doubtfire. She seems like a pretty enlightened woman, with years and years of advice from experience (which I honestly think is far more valuable than just learning theories in college).

I found her through a program in the Army where they provide you with six free sessions with a local therapist.. and I anxiously wondered if I could be "fixed" in 6 sessions. But it was as if Elizabeth knew how to read minds too. She gave me a list of symptoms of somebody who was depressed, and she assured me that she would keep seeing me until all the items were crossed off. I felt a little discouraged. It was a ratherlong list. That's a lot of head-shrinking is all I'm saying.

I should mention, pessimism was part of the list.

A Few Good Things

I've realized that lately, I've been doing a lot of complaining and whining, which (undoubtedly) can make me look like a very unhappy person. And although I have several of those moments, I must contend that I'm not completely miserable. The BIG idea is.. I firmly believe in the philosophy of duality. Basically, it's happiness and unhappiness, tension and relaxation, pleasure and pain. We are unable to appreciate any pleasure unless it's accompanied by a corresponding pain. The problem with me is, I focus too much on the pain and not enough on the pleasure. So in essence of my proposed self-therapy (don't worry, I've got an appointment with a professional tomorrow night), I thought I'd share the things that make me enthusiastic. Obviously, Mike and Ethan make me happy. I could write for days and months and years about how happy they make me.. but I thought I'd share some of the random things that tickle my fancy.

Photography
I love life (as ironic as that sounds), and I love to photograph life. Life comes at us so fast... we now live in the generation of text messages, frapuccinos-to-go, and Tivo, that we almost feel guilty about slowing down to enjoy those moments that really count... we merely know them as the "kodak moments". That day you play "hookie" to escape to Mexico after getting engaged. That first dance as husband and wife. That gumfull of smiles in the nursery. One minute it's there, the next minute it's gone. That's just it. Photos are forever. Now, I've always had the passion for photography, and I take much pleasure in being that "crazy camera lady" who has a camera almost permanently attached to her hand during her life travels. But it's only recently that I've started to ruminate on the value of a tripod and critically consider lighting techniques. I hope to someday be able to make the transition from hobby to an esteemed career (or if I could really get my way, a pleasant balance of both).

Double Stuff Oreos
This is a fairly recent craze, I must say. When I got home from the hospital, I was welcomed by a bag of Double Stuff Oreos sitting on the kitchen counter, and our kitchen has never gone a day without one since then. Forget about all other kinds of cookies, I HAVE to HAVE Oreos... and not just the original kind.. it has to be the Double Stuff kind. Dunk. Lick. Yum.

SUPER Walmart
I might be running the risk of being called a hillbilly, but I do love love love Super Walmart. Going to Walmart has become more than just a chore... it's become another way for Mike and I to spend time together (cheesy but true). We often go to buy a few essentials, and end up just wandering aimlessly through the store, stopping periodically to hold each other, while putting semi-random things in the cart on the way to the baby section. I mean, I'm sentimental to the fact that a business this big would easily drive a mom & pop business off with their comparative pricing, but I'm all for saving $$ and the convenience it offers. Where else could you do your regular grocery shopping, price match for a new set of tires for the car, buy baby essentials, and shop for furniture all under the same roof? And who could compete with Walmart's generous return policy anyway? You don't even have to have your receipt, and they will take the item back no questions asked and even give you cash if the amount isn't to hefty. Hell, you could probably buy almost anything there, use it for a couple of weeks, put it back in the original box and return it for a full refund or store credit!!! (Not that we've done that or anything).... And the best part of it all? It's OPEN 24 hours a day.

MySpace
Okay, so I'm a hillbilly and a geek. But it's become more than just a cultural phenomenon.. it's a lifestyle. Everyday, before I go to sleep, I log in and take pleasure in seeing that I've got New Messages and New Comments and New Friend Requests. Nevermind the increasingly annoying advertisements, I'm not surprised that advertisers are taking note. One powerful draw is that MySpace is chock full of 16- to 34-year-old consumers, one of the most sought-after and elusive demographic segments... in which of course, I fall right inbetween. What I love about it is the flexibility of customizing my page however I want, without the hassle of actually having to pay to maintain my own .com (although I have that too). Not to mention, my ever growing friends list consisting of people whom I've met in almost all phases of my life: distant high school friends, old church choir pals, buddies I've accumulated during my years in the Army... would I have kept in touch with 90% of these people if it weren't for MySpace? Probably not.

Well, that's about all the rejoicing I could do for one day. Must go back to work.

Baby Model

I know I should be getting some rest, but I can't seem to force myself to go to sleep. I've had 2 spoonfulls of chicken soup and I feel like throwing up. My temperature's still a little high, and I'm getting awfully tired of getting in and out of the covers (in because I'm freezing, out because I'm sweating like a pig).

With that said, Ethan's been such a good boy today. Only made a noise close to a fuss when he got hungry, entertained himself on the swing during his quiet time, and actually soothed himself to sleep as soon as I put him down on the bed (he's been sleeping in daddy's spot). It's as if he knows mommy's not feeling too well. He slept most of the day, which made it a lot easier for me to steal quick naps here and there.

But even though I'm sick, and it took a LOT of energy to go downstairs to grab my camera and crawl back upstairs to take this picture.. it was all worth it. The kid's only 9 weeks old, and his picture's probably been taken more than the president's ---(okay, slight exaggeration, but only to make a valid point). The photo ops have obviously been reduced since I went back to work, and that makes me feel guilty sometimes... although I probably ought to start bringing my camera to daycare at lunch so I don't get so behind.

But who could resist that face? At 9 weeks, he's definitely getting cute. He's plumper, and softer, and rounder. His legs have straightened out, his little hands no longer clenched in angry fists, his cheeks bulge defiantly with big sucking muscles. Not that he wasn't cute when he first popped out. In fact, if you watch the video of my delivery, you'd hear the first thing that came out of my mouth when I first held him was "Look, he doesn't have a conehead!" -- which by the way, was ridiculously a HUGE concern for me. I didn't want my son to come out with a pointy head. It makes for very scary hospital pictures.. not to mention, you get stuck with diplomatic remarks like "What a precious baby.. he looks SMART...."

Now Ethan's actually getting baby-food-label cute, all round eyes, chubby cheeks and funny waving hands. He looks us in the eye now instead of somewhere off into middle space, and his smiles make Mike and me pull on the metaphorical hip-waders to go mucking about in baby goo and mush....

Mike: "Look at his face. He's so cute."

Me: "Let me take a picture!"

My exciting night at the ER

Just my luck.

Somehow, I've managed to get infected with strep. Late yesterday afternoon, I started to feel a little worn down accompanied by a really annoying headache. Figuring my immune system is probably just shot from the lack of sleep of the previous nights (Ethan had been cranky since he got his first set of shots Monday), I popped a couple of Tylenol Extra Strength and kept on trucking. I was extremely exhausted by the time I had to pick Ethan up from daycare that I nearly fell asleep in one of their rockers, but decided I would show up anyway (like I said I would) to a dinner event I had been invited to at the catholic church by our house before heading home. I figured it would at least spare me from having to cook dinner or settle for fast food. And by the time Ethan and I got home at 8, I was ready to go to bed.

I woke up shivering an hour and a half later, which baffled me a bit since it's unusual that you would find the fan off and me tucked under the comforter. It felt like forever before I could muster up the energy to get out of bed to put a sweatshirt and some thick socks on. I knew then I must be coming down with something. And when the digital thermometer read 103.7, I was about ready to pass out I could hardly even get the Tylenol bottle out of the medicine cabinet.

Conveniently enough, Mike has been out of town for work and won't be back for another couple of days. It didn't help much talking to my mom and her telling me that this is what I get for moving so far away, although I'm sure her intentions were fair. By midight, Mike had made an executive decision to have one of the guys from his work come and drag me to the emergency room, which was the last thing in my mind... People don't go to emergency rooms because of fever, do they?

I HATE hospitals.

I HATE the emergency room even more.

I've seen people with blood gushing out of a head wound waiting in emergency rooms, yet it's considered "normal" and expected. It confounds me how hospital staff service is always at its worse when you seem to need it the most.... when you're the only one sitting in the waiting room and it takes the girl behind the cheap plexiglass 30 minutes to call your name and take your information down, and then she spends another 30 minutes exasperatingly pressing buttons on her keyboard (which by the way, irritates the shit out me. It's 2006. People who still use DOS programs should be hung and burned at the stake), while inbetween she manages to joke around with the other girl who's apparently not doing very much of anything either.

An hour later, a male nurse finally escorts me to one of the beds, while Tran (Mike's friend who came and took me to the hospital) stayed in the waiting room with Ethan. By that time, I think I might've been hallucinating or just plain exhausted (or a combination of both), but I couldn't stop thinking about the male nurse and Gaylord Focker... and how he looked awfully fruity in those green scrubs.

Anyway, the only thing I probably like about going to the hospital is the feeling of that warm blanket on your skin for the first few minutes... I must've fallen asleep waiting, and I was still a little bit woozy when the doctor finally came in another hour later to stick a swab down my throat. He said my lymph nodes on my neck were swollen, and I've got white pus on my tonsils ( YUCK ) so he suspected it was strep, which the swab test later on confirmed. I've never had it before, but it sure sounded bad. When he said I'm going to feel worse before I get better, and that it'll take at least 36 hours before the penicillin they shot in my butt will even start doing its job and another 4-5 days before my symptoms go away..... I just groaned.

I had been thinking that I sort of miss spending time with Ethan at home, but these conditions weren't exactly what I had in mind. I called the pediatrician first thing this morning though and they said that I should be fine to be around my baby... and that I could even continue breastfeeding so long as I don't have a fever.

I guess it's the perfect way to end possibly one of the worst weeks ever. And my ass still hurts from that shot.

Shit Shit Shit

Ever have those times when you feel like your life has turned to shit, and you’re just waiting for the final flush? I always tell myself that when that happens, I just need to wait just a little longer and it will turn around again. It's amazing how fast your state of mind can go from enjoying the best to expecting the worse...... fraction of a milisecond, really. And in my experience, life has always somehow managed to turn itself around. Someone must be really fond of me up there... Though sometimes (sort of like now), it sure seems like it takes forever.

And where are the people who are supposed to help you go through the shitty episodes of your life when you need them? The truth is, I have been so utterly befuddled I've managed to repel all forms of help. Friends. Even family. Message Boards.

What makes you think a professional will be able to break me down?

Most people have figured out, either by trial and error or through an auspicious accident, their own way to channel their frustrations. And for me, I think that's what blogging has infectiously become. First, it started out as just a little escape from the tedium, but it has gradually evolved to something much more worthy of interest. At least to me anyway.

But I digress.

Where was I ?

Ah, yes. Life can be awfull shitty sometimes, but someone told me once (and oddly enough, it wasn't my mother) that I'm a survivor. So in honor of Gloria Gaynore, I WILL SURVIVE.

And then there were two

So it's just me and Ethan for a couple of days while Mike is in Virginia for some Army business. The timing on these things are never convenient. I've never felt so alone.

In the small picture, it probably just means 4 days worth of either take out, cereal, or TV dinners for me. At least, I'll consistently be getting very little sleep.

Rainy Day

The skies aren't the only ones crying. For the past four days, I've been consumed with irrepressible emotion, it wasn't a surprise that I sobbed at the pediatrician yesterday too. I was sad when Ethan got his shots... there was a piercing look of betrayal in his eyes while I helped the nurse hold his legs down... and afterwards there was a look of disappointment almost that I couldn't make the pain go away. But that's not why I cried.

I cried after the doctor explained to me that at this stage, my own child won't remember who I am if I am to be away from him longer than 3 weeks. It's nature, he said. He's so young that he just isn't able to retain information for very long. Now I don't blame nature, nor do I loathe the doctor for telling me the truth. But a part of me wished that the doctor would tell me that yes, there is a magical bond between a mother and a child that keeps them connected no matter what -- a bond unbreakable by distance... unweakened by time. It breaks my heart that there's a chance that there might be a time in his life that he won't know me.

As adults, we have a cognitive understanding of what's going on, but we still have our primal emotional reactions to separation. When love ones are separated, we can still 'detach' because of the pain of missing. The thought of being away from Mike breaks my heart just as bad. But at least I can endure with the thought that he won't forget who I am.

But I have to be strong right now. And I have faith that God will help me through... just like He always had.

If the Army wanted you to have a family, they would have issued you one

I was contemplating today about the need to update my blog. And I was going to write about how the restructuring of our cubicle farms at work will result in me losing my "bigger than others" cubicle to a more modest shoebox, at best. But that seems all too trivial now.

Yesterday afternoon, after deciding to cut my workday a little short in order to steal some mommy time.. I was introduced to one of the worst feelings I think a human could ever be subjected to.... the feeling of abandonment....

The worst fucking feeling ever.

"I can't be married to a deserter", he said.

I have no notion of being a hero, nor am I fed with intense patriotism. The only thing I miss was the comraderie. But at this point in my military career, (for what it's worth) I feel that I have done my time. Write me up another counseling statement and deluge me threats of involuntary separation.

But I am NOT leaving my child.

Crazy Camera Lady

photograph

n : a picture of a person or scene in the form of a print ortransparent slide; recorded by a camera on light-sensitive material

I walk around and I see people as portraits, very much like I view daily life in frames. I know that some people think that a photo captures their soul, and in a way I believe it does... but not in a negative manner. I see it as preserving a moment, documenting life as it happens... The camera is the tool that allows me to immortalize that moment, capturing its essence in its most artistic expression.

And so, I have a new partner in crime. A VERY expensive partner in crime. One that I hope will eventually rescue me from the unrelenting curse of working only to make ends meet, but give me a fighting chance to be able to do something I actually love.

For now, I take pleasure in taking pictures of everything and anything. So if you see me around taking photos of the sky, the run down building down the street, or you nonchalantly trying not to look like a Calvin Klein ad... don't mind me.

Sunset

California sunset

West Virginia sunset

Date Night

One of the most common advice I've heard for keeping our marriage healthy is to schedule a "date night" with my husband. And for two people who have very demanding schedules, I guess it makes sense, although I hardly think that applies to those who have a newborn in the house. Since Ethan was born, my energy level's been barely enough to change my bra, which has forced the concept of sitting through dinner and a movie to find itself a lonely home at the bottom of my MUST-TO-DO list. Lately though, I've realized that not only do we deserve one, I LONG to go on a date with my husband.

Mike often kids me about being a "cheap date" because I can be fine with a hotdog and lemonade (for a $1.50) from Sams Club and a back rub, but that's because my priority isn't some wild romantic night with him, but just some alone time with him. Sometimes, I think that that's where things go astray -- when one expects a date to be all wine and roses when sometimes it could be a cuddling hour of watching a CSI rerun. And since the lovely addition to our family, that "alone" time has come from far inbetween to almost non-existent. But this past weekend, with every intention to secure a default babysitter (thanks to Grandma Mary), Mike and I went actually managed to leave the little one behind and go on a date.

Dinner and a movie might sound too cliche but that's exactly how our night started. He took me to a quaint Italian restaurant across the community college he used to attend, and enjoyed a superb chicken and veal marsala. Mike wanted to order wine, which sounded really nice, butI was inclined to pass since I'm breastfeeding. Later on, I told him it was because I couldn't stand the smell of alcohol (which is partly true), but it was mostly because I didn't want to be stuck with guilt later on about consuming alcohol and having to delay feeding my son until I was certain it was out of my system. After dinner, we might as well have tossed 18 dollars to the trash since we spent that much on one of the worst and plotless movies we had ever seen. Still, we took pleasure in cuddling in a dark room for an hour and a half with the armrest folded out the way. We found ourselves at the bar after that and later on migrated to the dance club upstairs. Even though it wasn't just us anymore, we very much enjoyed the freedom of worry-free dancing and hanging out with some friends until 2 in the morning. Though I have to admit, I was tempted more than once to call and check on my baby (but resisted), knowing he was in good hands anyway.

I woke up the next morning happy (being able to sleep in until almost noon was just icing on the cake), knowing I got to spend even just a couple of hours alone with him. But I worry that it'll take us another 2 months before finding the time (or the means) to go on another date!! I sure hope not....

PRIORITIES

"A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car that I drove... but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child."

An unexpected visit

If they gave out ribbons for mothers who bravely embark the challenge of traveling alone across the country with a 7 week old infant, I should definitely get one. Ethan did generally well during the transitions (we had to change planes three times each way), attentively admiring the blaring terminal lights and coyly smiling to strangers who came up to say "how cute". He did even better on the plane. I was worried that he would have difficulty with the take offs and the landings, but surprisingly, he hardly fussed at all except for when he got a little chilly from the cabin's scarcely leveled temperature.

Of course, it wouldn't be complete unless something went wrong. Enroute to our connecting flight to Chicago, somehow they lost the stroller and the carseat that we gate-checked in Los Angeles. They were supposed to deliver it to the gate where we landed in Chicago, but it never came. I was LIVID. I probably wouldn't have been so fumed if the counter agent would have been a little bit more helpful and sympathetic to the fact that I then have to run across 2 terminals to catch our connecting flight while carrying a 7 week old baby and a 10 lb carry-on. Instead, she smugly told me they didn't know where our stroller and carseat went... and said"next". If I wasn't carrying Ethan, I probably would've kicked her ass and then some.

Other than that, our spur of the moment visit to California went as smooth as it could be ,although we are disinclined to admit that we might've brought the cold weather along with us. It was rainy the first 2 days we were there (ironically it was warmer in West Virginia that weekend), but the sun finally let up the day before we left.. leaving me just enough time todrive to a beach I had never been to and introduce Ethan to the ocean.The next time we take him to the beach, he'll be old enough to crawl on the sand. Aside from my mom and my sister (who were the only ones who have already seen him since they flew out here to West Virginia when I delivered), Ethan's debut was a spectacle to everyone.. and I took pleasure from everyone taking turns to carry him during the day while I enjoyed the "brief" break by taking photos with my new camera.

It felt good to be back. At the same time, I felt a little guilty because Mike couldn't come with us, although we're all going there again for one of my best friends' wedding in July and to celebrate my mom's birthday weekend.

But as our plane ascended back towards what we now call home, I looked back at Los Angeles and my heart sank a little. Perhaps someday, the only time we'll be looking back at Los Angeles is if we're going somewhere else for a visit.

Until then....

Epiphany

I had decided that I would go back to work way before Ethan was even born. My main reason being my sanity (aside from tending to my son, I get bored having nothing else to busy myself with)... but the decision also carries the verity of necessity. I had been okay with the whole idea so far.. that is up to today when it all of a sudden hit me this morning as I was trying to sway him back to sleep after a 6 am feeding...

and I just couldn't stop crying...

Even with a great deal of preparing for it mentally and practically, I am left with a loss for words. Combing through a ball of emotions, I think I mostly feel guilty. As if I'm about to "pawn" my son to someone else to be taken care of... but I know that this arrangement is what's best for everyone right now. Although I know it's wrong to even nearly entertain the idea that wanting a life outside changing diapers doesn't make me a bad mother... I can't help but expect many days of 15-minute breaks spent crying in a bathroom stall. On one hand, I don't want to miss the first words and the wobbly steps, and wipe away the tears when he bruises his knees... but on the other hand, I dread being "stuck" (for lack of a better word) in a domestic treadmill where the greatest satisfaction is being able to finish the second load of laundry that day.

It's tough especially when my support system, outside my husband, has been degraded down to delinquent long distance phone calls and sporadic messages from distant friends on myspace. When I go back to work, colleagues will ask about how I'm coping and offer sympathy... sadly, it'll probably be comparable to the kind of sympathy one would get if someone close to you died. I'd personally rather do without that...

I feel helplessly wedged in an emotional tug of war.

Gump's mom is wrong

How many times must we hear the infamous "Life is like a box of chocolates.. you'll never know what you're going to get" before we realize that submitting ourselves to this exact kind of bullshit is what will break us... not make us.

On the contrary... I believe that life is in fact not like the unpredictable chronicle Forrest's mom depicts it to be... BUT it is very much like a candy shop... with limitless array of choices and possibilities waiting for us to decide on.

Our very existence relies on the daily choices that we make (and that includes choosing NOT to choose), because that freedom is the grand design of it all. Fate only exists to give us the options, not decide for us.

I want to be MADE

For as long as I can remember, I've always had the passion for singing. I loved to perform, feeding from the nervousness that always seemed to prelude to singing in front of any crowd. Then it became such an anomalous high that throughout my childhood (and even up to now), I somehow manage to muster up the confidence to join almost every talent contest imaginable to mankind. Some, I've boastfully won with flying colors... while others left me feeling defeated in second place, or no place at all.

As a child, I once lost a town anniversary's singing contest to a preacher's daughter, and I remember telling her that God was just being nice to her that day so He let her win. In college, I performed at an open mic night but sucked so bad I spent the rest of the night blaming it on the single tequila shot I took for some "liquid courage" before taking the stage. And even when I was deployed in Bosnia, I lost a mock up of American Idol to a lieutenant who admitted his strategy was to try to be funny to cover up his lack of talent.....



And while my odds of being the next American Idol are about as slim to none as me winning the lottery, I admit I often fantasize of what it would be like if I was really good enough to score a recording deal.

So today, I'm feeling a little ambitious and thought I'dd bravely add another bold aspiration to my list of Things To Do.....



101. Go on an Americal Idol Audition.

Nice day for a drive

... but I'm not rolling my windows down ...

I feel human again

Still feeling a little lost, I try not to count the days of bouncing back to my pre-baby figure, attitude, work schedule, and sex life... Instead, I welcome the sobering reality of hope: that life will be chaotic for a while, but a new type of normalcy will eventually descend..... probably around the same time I start getting some sleep again.

Things instantly change when a woman gives birth.... I was taught to expect that. But how things change took me completely by surprise: the intensity of emotions, unexpected strains in my marriage, a new connection with in-laws, the unintended disconnect from friends without children, the undenying pressure to refrain from things that might be deemed irresponsible...... the list goes on.

Though I must admit, for at least a couple of hours this weekend... after being convinced to strap myself on a 5-foot piece of fiber glass and throw myself down a mountain of snow..... I felt human again.

I realized that life doesn't stop here... nor does it go downhill from here. It's just the beginning of a new phase.... one where Mike and I can enjoy the rewards of parenthood without necessarily having to give up things we used to enjoy.

They SURE don't come with instructions

Despite all the anticipatory parenting done during pregnancy, despite weeks of feeling movement within and fantasizing about my baby, despite months of having strange dreams, worrisome thoughts, and musings about what kind of parent I was going to be, the first time I held Ethan in my arms and was called mommy... an awareness (up to this day) floods over me that life will never be the same again. Another human being is now dependent on me for survival... and guidance. And more than anything else, I want to be the best parent I can possibly be. That's a big responsibility.

I guess in a way, it's a bit similar to when my parents decided to teach me responsibility by giving me a dog -- except with cocker spaniels, you don't have to worry a couple of years down the line about midnight phone calls from the precinct or a gold-digging whore they might call a girlfriend. But I digress...

The past 4 weeks have been an experience beyond words. I never thought I could worry so much about miniscule skin imperfections, or whether 4 hours of inconsolable crying warrants a call to the pediatrician. It's like being in a maze, completely oblivious to where I should go and when I'm going to get there. Getting out of the house takes all day (no matter how much planning gets done beforehand) and some days I don't even achieve that. Part of the problem is sleep deprivation which makes every chore twice as hard. Night feeds mean having been up two or three times, possibly up to two hours at a stretch to 'settle' Ethan back to sleep. I wish sometimes Mike would make the extra effort to get up at least once during the night to change him, but I guess they're not programmed quite the same (That's something we'll have to seriously work on when I get back to work). And I have yet to master the obvious advise to pass out whenever he does during the day... especially when that is the only time I find I can use to get anything done around the house... including finding time to fix myself something to eat. Many times, I have to resort to TV dinners since I can at least handle holding Ethan on one arm while maneuvering the microwave on the other.

The conspiracy of silence surrounding these first few weeks have left me feeling like I was ALL ALONE in facing a minefield of identity crisis, confusion, out-of-control emotions, exhaustion, lasting physical pain, and sometimes mourning for my former life. Until I realized that I got a bout of what they nonchalantly call the baby blues, around a week after giving birth... not too long after my mom went back home and Mike permanently back at work. But let's just look at the facts: crying baby (seemingly for no reason at times), no sleep, hormones all over the place, sore breasts, and going back to sanitary wear not seen since the age of 13. Is it any wonder I was in tears? Mike sneered everytime I showed the slightest evidence of a mood swing, but I didn't care. Eventually, I just told him I was sad, and he understood that was his cue to try to be the understanding one. I'll take all the sympathy I get.....

'tis the season

So tomorrow is Valentines day... which means 'tis the season for lots of bitching about how this day is just an invention of Hallmark Conspiracy that coerces people to show their loved ones how much they care even though they're supposed to be doing that all year anyway... yada yada yada...

I agree that it's over commercialized. But so is Christmas, and Halloween, and every other holiday on the calendar. That doesn't mean it's not fun to celebrate them. We shouldn't look at it as a "put-upon" to make an extra effort to be nice to our significant other... we should see it as just another opportunity to show them how we love them, right?

Lucky for me, I married a simple man. He's the greatest.... but he's simple, much like me. We're not expectant of grand gestures (although those are nice to run into every once in a while). We're more like homecooked-meal-and-cuddling people. Simple.

Personally, I like all that mushy stuff. I like asking him to be my valentine, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE that he thoughtfully brushed off the inch of snow off my car today in 20 degree weather (something I had been dreading to do). AND in light of his greeting card holiday conspiracy theories, he gave me a February 13th gift today of a gift certifiate for a much needed hour of postnatal massage therapy and an hour of hot stone therapy... after coming home unxpectedly for lunch with my favorite meal from the mexican restaurant. That my friends, is far better than getting a cliche of 2 dozen long stemmed red roses which probably would cost just as much.

I, on the other hand, just got him this Valentines song (which I thought, if you listened beyond the cheesy karaoke feel, was really cute -- http://instasong.com/710294282S ), and I wrote him a love letter that he'll find nesting in one of his uniform pockets tomorrow.. something I definitely haven't done in quite a while. And I'm hoping he'll accept my proposal to go out and do something nice this weekend, as I'm sure grandma won't mind being the default babysitter...

Winter wonderland

in our front yard... my car's down there somewhere..

I guess it's time to squeeze into my pre-pregnancy winter coats..... hOoray.....

I can taste the sarcasm on that one.

I've found my muse

My Word Cloud

You type in the URL and name of your blog and it creates a word collage based on what's found at your site. It's pretty cool.
Here's mine:

I feed the papparazi

Celebrity lifestyles are annoyingly addicting. Why do we care so much about what they do beyond the stage or the television anyway? Truth of the matter is, it's human nature to be curious.. but the astonishing unnumbered curious people, I admit, are probably the very reason why these vultures continue to harass those who might be (at the very least) subjects of interest.

Her damage control reps are all over this one, and who wouldn't be? In her defense, I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt in that her maternal instincts warranted for her to drive away without putting the baby in the carseat first. Then again, how long did she drive like this for? Speaking as a new mom, I worry that if someone else were to do something reckless, she has put herself in danger too. And personally, I would rather have some papparazi in my face for a couple of minutes while I strap Ethan in his carseat (which is no joke, probably a harder chore than changing a diaper) before I run those photographers over.

Lists are the elixir of life

I'm a closet list maker. To-do Lists. To-don'ts. Grocery lists. Packing lists. Activity lists.

I always say I hate planning ahead, but that's a bold-face lie too. If you were smart enough to evade my company during the wedding planning months, I commend you... because I was at the ABSOLUTE brink of going postal from keeping a list for all my lists.

I make lists when I am stressed out, tired, lonely, bored, busy, frantic, happy, anxious. My lists consist of, but definitely not confined to: things to remember, personal projects to complete, names of people I should call, doctor's appointments, places I want to visit, concepts and principles to incorporate into my daily life, quotes that I think are memorable, things about myself I want to change, things about my life that are good, groceries to pick up the next time I'm out, stuff to get at Walmart.... Blah Blah Blah. Sometimes I make lists of things I have already completed just so I can draw a thick line through them and feel very accomplished. It's like self-therapy...

Today.. I'm feeling a little bummed. So I decided to re-vamp my old list.... THE List. The one that is supposed to take me through life with frantic abandon. Some people say that these lists are useless because they keep you from appreciating what you've done by creating a false sense of reality... but I completely disagree. I'm not even sure how long I have had this list or what got it started.. but I guess it's what they call.. a living document. Some of the things, I've already done. Others, I probably would think twice about doing.. and yet, it seems like I have so much more to add -- and hopefully, just as much (and more) to accomplish.

So without further a due, here is MY LIST.


1. Write a novel, and have it published.

2. Find a job I love.

3. Learn to surf.

4. Visit Rome. a

5. Take a road trip across the United States. a

6. Skydive.

7. Write a song.

8. Explore the New York Public Library. a

9. Swim with a dolphin.

10. Look into a Hawaiian volcano.

11. March in a protest rally. a

12. Go camping on a beach.

13. Drive on Pacific Coast Highway in a convertible with the top down.

14. Learn how to play the guitar.

15. Walk the Great Wall of China.

16. Scuba Dive.

17. Go to the United Nations. a

18. Get a tattoo or a piercing.

19. Let go of an old grudge. a

20. Ride the tallest roller coaster in the world. a

21. Volunteer. a

22. Take a gondola ride in Venice with the love of my life.

23. Eat an authentic Thai meal in Thailand.

24. Leave my mark by carving my name to a tree bark, and revisiting it.

25. Go to Disney World.

26. Participate in a tradition outside my culture. a

27. Stay at a Five Star Hotel, guilt-free.

28. Learn how salsa, in heels.

29. Take a cruise.

30. Spend New Year’s Eve in some exotic location.

31. Attend the Carnivale in Venice, Italy. a

32. Become a member of the Mile High Club.

33. Run a marathon.

34. Learn a third language, and put it to use.

35. Work with a non-profit organization.

36. Change my own tire. a

37. Go to the top of the Empire State Building. a

38. Start a collection and stick with it.

39. See a tornado or hurricane and live to tell my grandkids.

40. Be in a mosh pit. a

41. Visit the Vietnam Wall in Washington DC.

42. Try a pilates class.

43. Go white water rafting.

44. Vote for something I feel strongly about.

45. Talk with a Buddhist monk.

46. Raise a family.

47. Be someone’s mentor.

48. Write a journal of stories from my childhood and pass it on to my children.

49. Release my own recording album.

50. Tour a vineyard and sample a good bottle of wine. a

51. Photograph the sphinx and the pyramids in Egypt.

52. Do something crazy in Las Vegas. a

53. Research my family tree.

54. Contemplate on the one person I idolize and let them know how much I admire them.

55. Spend a birthday in Paris.

56. Fall asleep to the sound of the waves of the ocean.

57. Start my own company.

58. Attend a fashion show in Milan.

59. Finish my degree.

60. Visit all seven continents.

61. Get interviewed and published by a newspaper or magazine. a

62. Fall in love. a

63. Get married on the beach. a

64. Get a piece of my art work into an exhibit.

65. Re-kindle an old friendship.

66. Attend the mardi gras in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

67. Buy a piece of jewelry that I can pass on to my daughter.

68. Organize a big event. a

69. Watch the changing of the guard in Buckingham Palace.

70. Have my portrait painted.

71. Reflect on my greatest weakness, and realize how it is my greatest strength.

72. Spend a whole day reading a great novel on the beach sipping cocktail.

73. Drive the autobahn.

74. Take a photograph someone can hang proudly on their wall.

75. Get a poem published. a

76. Attend at least one major sporting event: the Super Bowl, the Olympics, or World Series.

77. Ride a horse on the beach. a

78. Shower in a waterfall.

79. Jump from the top of a waterfall.

80. Make love in the rain.

81. Memorize a poem and pass it on.

82. Visit all 50 states.

83. Send my mom to a well-deserved vacation somewhere.

84. Dance in a foreign night club. a

85. Ride in a hot air balloon.

86. Watch the running of the bulls in person in Spain.

87. Live somewhere other than California. a

88. Go back to the Philippines for a class reunion.

89. Visit the Borough market in London.

90. Own my dream house, preferably close to the water.

91. Capture someone else’s wedding or special occasion on film.

92. Plant a garden.

93. Conquer my fear of riding a motorcycle (as a passenger, not drive one).

94. Watch the sunset on a beach. a

95. Fly somewhere First Class.

96. Take a cooking class.

97. Take my sister somewhere nice when she graduates college.

98. Take my brother to a professional football game.

99. Look into my child’s eyes, see myself, and smile. a

100. Pay off all my debts.

Brrrrrrrrrrr

What I wouldn't give to be in this weather,



instead of this.....



The snow isn't that bad, but the windchill is what will drive a tropical native off the wall. It's a shame Mike's not here to scrape all that snow off my windshield.... I guess this California girl will have to do it herself.

TV is NOT evil

These days, I have relentlessly found refuge in the technological innovation called the television. I admit, I have never been a firm believer in the singular capacity of the telly to totally ruin people's concentrational lives. They say it's evil because it takes away from actual functional and constructive activities such as reading, or exercising. Yet in this society, it is not only perceptible that literary books are being turned into movies, you will also HARDLY find a gym that is without numerous televisions secured on their walls.

Nevermind the bunch of mindless drivel on it, there's also stuff I enjoy for its entertainment, news, educational value.

The funny thing is... I don't even "follow" any particular show. In fact, I consider myself more of a re-run junkie. I can never get enough of the neverending song-and-dance of Ross and Rachel (even though I currently own the first six seasons on DVD already), or the scientific explorations of Crime Scene Investigation (it's gotten to a point where I can watch the first 10 minutes of the show and tell you who the killer is...). Despite the lack of suspense, I still find repeat episodes of Everyone Loves Raymond entertaining -- something about the old man's vulgar yet funny attitude that makes me fancy what Mike would be like 50 years from now. Then there's the useless crap, like the irritatingly addicting onslaught of reality tv shows on MTV... what's more entertaining than watching an ex-boyband member throwing a yard sale to have enough money for the rent?

I watch the morning local news in the morning. I'm a firm believer of getting 20 minutes of extra sleep than waking up early to read the newspaper (besides... we're already paying 100 something dollars for cable anyway, why pay extra couple of bucks for a newspaper subscription?) - Before I took the time off for mommy duties, I would have it tuned faintly in the background while get ready for work. Sometimes, in the middle of blowdrying my hair, I would sneak a peak to watch the little scroller at the bottom of the screen for the headlines, but mostly to try to catch a glimpse on the day's weather prediction.

And when Mike's home, you can almost guarantee that he has the remote control and that he's watching some kind of sports channel. That's where educational kicks in for me. Believe it or not, i can actually sit through an entire football game now and not be totally clueless. I can even tell you who the Heisman Trophy nominees were this year and who is likely to be this year's first draft pick...

Do I watch too much TV? Lately.. I'm probably guilty. Next to taking care of my son, doing laundry, reading a new book called "Your Purpose in Life" (generously picked by a favorite Uncle of mine) and checking my email, there really isn't much else to do. Bite me...

I'll probably be glued to the television more by next week when the Olympics start...... nothing better than watching agony of dreams destroyed by a better competitor!!

This isn't my kid, but I thought it was funny

We are in love

We've survived the first week home.

Between the midnight feedings and the huge demand for attention, I am amazed at how this tiny person can have us so wrapped up in his little fingers so quick.

The Story

I read plenty... talked to as many mothers as I could talk to... we even went to class. But I don't think there's a book or a wives tale out there that could ever prepare anyone to the feeling of new motherhood...

I didn't go to work that Wednesday because I was feeling a bit under the weather. Luckily, I had been training my backup as if "preparing" to leave work everyday assuming I wasn't going to be back the next day. Every day that week, Mike had been loading (and unloading) his car with all our bags and the car seat... "just in case". But Wednesday came and went... and still no baby Ethan.

Thursday morning, I felt as shitty as the day before, if not shittier... and I decided I couldn't drive to work in that condition. My contractions were still inconsistent, but they had definitely gotten significantly more distinct compared to the night before. I think Mike could tell by my facial expressions that I was in pain (though sporadically), as he dressed up for work like usual that morning but obviously not wanting to leave me behind. He tried to convince me to go to the hospital to get "checked out", but I just kept brushing it off. By that point, I was very firm in that I wouldn't go back to the hospital again (after our 2 previous and grueling false alarms) UNLESS I knew DEFINITELY that "it was time". And that morning, despite Mike's huffin and puffin, I was thoroughly convinced that it wasn't. Even after I teased him about using my labor as an excuse out of work that day, he stayed home with me anyway.

That same afternoon, after having barraged with concerned family members PLUS Mike.. I gave in and got in the car and we were on our way to triage. Mike and I hung out, trying to hold some hopeful conversations while the contractions beat out their rhythm on the paper strips. I could feel them rising, and falling, intense but the pain was mostly manageable, as I listened to Ethan's heart buhbeat-buhbeat-buhbeat-buhbeat-buhbeat-buhbeat. After 2 hours of "monitoring", they came in and told me I was only 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced (only 1 cm dilated more than 1 week ago at my doctor's appointment).

I was visibly disappointed, as if I was certain all along that they weren't going to keep me. I felt like I was never going to deliver. It wasn't a lot of progress to say the least (despite our courageous efforts to induce it the natural way), and wasn't a clear symptom of the onset of labor.. and it my mind, I already started making plans of where to go that night for dinner (I was STARVING!). But because of the consistent contractions, they asked for me to stay a little bit longer to see if I progress any more.. and sure enough! Next thing I knew, I was being wheeled to the labor and delivery room.

Then we knew..... it was time to make the phone calls.....

It was quick. I can't say it was painless. Though slightly drugged and numb from the waist down from the epidural, the pressure was irrefutable... and I felt him making his way down as if he knew exactly what he was supposed to do. I remember my nurse, Sue, tried to tell me to get as much rest as possible because I would need it when the time came. My only comfort was the sight of Mike nervously pacing back and forth (to me, it meant that he was getting as excited as I was) and the ice chips that I tried to chew on since they couldn't feed me anything else.

As soon as I saw my legs thrown up on the stirups and they told me I was ready to push... I knew what I had to do. I remember holding Mike's hand, consciously trying not to squeeze too hard while desperately trying to concentrate on the push as he repeatedly counted from 1 to 10. Inbetween contractions, these strangers in different-colored scrubs showered me with compliments of how "good" of a pusher I was. And in the midst of it all, I remember Mike kissing my forehead, consoling me that it's almost over, and reminding me how beautiful the end result would be... if I just hung on a little longer, and pushed just a little harder.

And all of a sudden, I heard him cry. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. And when they finally put him on my belly, still attached and covered in mucus, there was not a tear in my eye like I thought I would have. Yet there was an overwhelming sensation of joy like I could never explain.. and I even felt a little sad when they took him away shortly to clean him up.

It was love at first sight. I knew I loved him while he was still in me but it was different once I could hold him and shower him with kisses. I felt empowered.... because I knew that all the pain and discomfort I endured for 9 months were merely a preface to this new life I cradled so cautiously in my arms. I felt blessed.... because I had been given the gift of family -- a loving husband and a son to love. And at the same time, I felt a little scared... because I realized that from that point on, every decision I make will mold him to the person that he will be for the rest of his life.

Paying Respects

Before I moved to West Virginia, I only had a vague idea where it was on the map. And up until the news broke out last week about the 13 miners trapped underground.. I'm sure there are people who didn't even know this state existed. It's unfortunate that it has to take a tragedy blasted on CNN to force minds to step outside their own little bubbles..

The mine that exploded and killed the 12 miners are about 2 hours away from where we live.. and like anywhere else, life goes on and the mood's gotten somewhat better (using the term loosely) since they announced the unsuccessful rescue last week. As flags continue to fly at half-staff, many signs in front of businesses had changed from grief for the dead miners to prayers for the sole survivor. But most people still express a sense of loss.. even if they don't know anyone who died personally. What I learned quickly when I moved here is that this is a mining town.. if you didn't mine, or your father didn't mine, you knew someone who did.

Tick Tock

Yesterday, we went to a whole day Childbirth class at the hospital I'm giving birth in. It wasn't your regular lamas class that focuses on relaxing and breathing patterns. If anything, it was like a nostalgic revisit of a high school sex ed class, equipped with visual aids and a VHS presentation of the "Miracle of Life". Much of what was covered, I had already read about or heard about.

But still, somehow it felt (at least to me) as if we had just completed all there is to be done... and now it's trully just a waiting game.

Mike and I are both hanging on the edge...

The anticipation is probably something I could never put into words. I'm not "due" for another 2 weeks, but what the hell does that mean anyway?

I'm tired of waiting... I want to hold my baby...

Resolution Dilusion

I hate making New Year's resolutions. They're so overrated. But this year, I will join the ranks of the McDonald-driven Americans in making the pledge of losing weight.. all 35 lbs that I have put on thus far, and whatever else I gain until the little guy pops out. I do plan on breastfeeding for a couple of months so that should be a start, although I'm a bit more concerned about the fact that I haven't been allowed to lift anything, much less jog, for almost a year. Closest I get to having an increased heartbeat is going up and down the stairs we have at home.

I hate to sound vain, but I do feel eccentrically FAT. Mind you, before the baby, I was "forbidden" to even weigh more than 118 lbs (a ridiculous weight limit set forth by the United States Army for someone of my height). And now, even after countless assurances that it's not fat, it's the baby, tell that to someone who's gone from a petite medium to an extra large in a matter of months.

Perhaps welcoming the new year contemplating about factors in my life that are unsatisfactory isn't what I should be doing...

I have been blessed... There are so much more in my life to be thankful for than to bitch about.