My dear Mishki,

I wrote this soon after you were born. It is the typical self-centred convoluted sort of thought process and reaction I’ve had to most setbacks in life. And I thought some more and decided that you deserve better. You deserve a mother who is a role model. If you watched a beauty paegent (please don’t) you’d think this is most natural and obvious – your mother being your role model. Life sometimes works differently. Relationships emerge differently. One thing I know from my own life is that while I appreciate the spontaneity and natural evolution of parent-child bonds, setting a foundation is paramount. I dare say I lacked it in my own upbringing. But there I go again – this is not about me. This is a story for you. It begins with you and ends with you.

Your (now) father and I spawned you quickly. When people ask how long we “tried” (a phrase that makes your father cringe), I usually say 20 minutes. They look at me mouth agape and I say “OK, 10. I was sleepy.” Needless to say these very words will make you cringe. Hah too bad. When I learned we were pregnant I didn’t think much about birth experiences. I had read enough mommy blogs to know many women had c-sections, that they were on the rise and there was a lot of conflict about why this was an unpleasant phenomenon. Around my 4^th month I started getting interested in natural birth. Since you will be growing up in close proximity to your parents you will soon see why this was not a stretch for us. We even considered a home birth, crunchy couple that we are. We read, we took classes, we were prepped for everything au natural.

My fondest memories of you are from when you were in my belly. Your drum-like rhythmic kicks and the way you swam around making my whole tummy contort, especially during weekly status meetings at work. My favorite by far though are the many miles we walked together. You and me. To and fro from prenatal yoga. To and from from bus stops to the subway. To the grocery store and to movies. Out in the open but a completely private time. Sometimes you made it known you were awake and ready for the ride, sometimes you snoozed, the rhythmic movement of my steps comforting you. When I got down on all fours in yoga and rocked, I imagined rocking you. When the room reverberated with Ommmmmmmm, I thought of you soothed by the vibrations. And then that fine day when you decided it was time, I was still walking. Walking with your grandmother towards the museum, past central park. What a little New Yorker baby you are. What a little woman of the world!

My sweet Mishki , you worked so hard. You worked with Amma to come down. All 9 lbs of you. Yes you big baby. You stretched amma’s uterus to its fullest. You challenged my body and mind. My body obliged achingly, my mind had trouble grappling with the vast expanse that was you. Still, we tried. Valiantly we moaned through contractions. We breathed with our stomachs the way we learned at yoga. You were (are) so long, even while you were descending into my cervix, I could still feel your feet at my ribs. You made your Amma work for you and she doesn’t regret it. When the dreaded c-section happened I knew there was one thing I dreaded more. Yes I’ll say it now – I dreaded a son. But no! You sneaky little thing were the girl I wanted all along. When the doctor pulled your fat head out she gasped at the “big baby”. Your father however, said the 3 words I’d been waiting to hear all my life – “It’s a girl.”

You came out screaming bloody murder. I know crying when you’re born is a good sign but jeez did you make your point. I, well, I sobbed like a baby. The tears flowed freely and I wailed. We both looked at you in wonder – how did this child fit inside me was our first thought. When I finally had sensation in my arms and they gave you to me, you searched for food and assured me with your strong suckle. Even now when you feed, you suckle like an efficient machine. With big noisy gulps like “6 pigs eating” as your grandma says.

I won’t forget my birth experience Mishki. And I won’t stop feeling that I wanted something entirely different. But never confuse that with you or your entry into this world. You came in strong and screaming, ready to take on whatever was in store. Even now we call you “the beast”. Yes, we’re sweet that way. Somehow I know you’ll fit in with us, your green parents with our irreverent sense of humor and lack of sense of grandiose.  And if you don’t, too bad, we’ll keep you anyway.

Sometimes when I succumb to those feelings that engulfed me the first 2 weeks I recall what Appa said and it gives me solace “You still birthed this baby.” I still birthed you. And you’re all mine.

In honor of my in-laws flying in this afternoon…

Reading the latest anthology of essays by Orhan Pamuk, Other Colours, I found one in particular that triggered some thought:  Who do you write for?

He describes periods in history in which literary writers wrote for the nation. Then, towards the end of the 20th century literary novels gained the status of high art.

His conclusion is that today, the answer for the generalised question: for whom do writers write? is that they write for their ideal reader, their loved ones, themselves or no one. Concisely, they write for those who read them.

He argues that literary writers are writing less for their national majorities, who don’t read them, but for the small minority of literary readers that do.

Analogous to what happens in the literary space, and trying to disregard the lack of romanticism in the business world, executives should view their role in society in a similar way.

Share registries turn over with vivacious rapidity. An analysis of such listings might be worth less than the resources put into doing it.

Then, directors and executives should always work with the ideal investor in mind. That marginal minority that, at any one moment, might own the companies they manage and control.

Like writers and politicians, executives must aim  for the best, while remaining loyal to their ethical standards. They should strive to engage with the world in which they live and understand their own changing place in that world.

But the ideal reader and novelist do not exist, and ideal politicians or executives don’t either.

The ideal investor or citizen could exist, however, in Orham Pamuks’ words, through

“first by imagining him into being, then by working with him in mind.”

WWW

I think I do this every time we go camping…and everytime I forget that it seems to take more out of me than I admit each time… I am still tired and will be in bed early again tonight. I still love the times we go away thought – we leave so much crap behind that we spend more time as a family.

Next year is going to be a big one for my boys!

The big two are changing schools – it will mean more driving to school and the fact that we have to cross the railway tracks means leaving early to ensure we get there in time.  On that note they are going for an extra orientation session on Wednesday morning.  I have a million little questions for the school so keeping them all written down.

My littlest man is going to Kinder…he is ready but it will be a big change for him.

Owen will (probably) be going to Cubaree in September next year. Its a 5 day cub camp for all the cubs in Victoria and it is only held every 3 years so its go this time or miss out entirely.  It is hard to imagine sending him off for 5 whole days but he has matured a lot in the last few months and will have good support so I think he will be going and I am sure he will love it.

Big news this evening is that they are going to start holding a similar event for Joeys in April next year which means Brett will be away for 1 night (Joeys can only ‘camp’ for 24 hours and usually aren’t in tents but this one says a marque).  It will be big for Brett as it will mean being away from Owen….as much as he dislikes Owen most of the time…at the end of the day he crawls into Owen’s bed!

Hindi ko alam kung anong klaseng yakap ang gagawin ko sa napili kong kurso. Mantakin mong hindi ko pa naadapt yung environment ng pagiging isang Enhinyero.

Sa loob ng halos limang semestre [kasama na yung summer], pakiramdam ko wala pang pumapasok sa kukote ko, puro na lang stock knowledge. Hindi man lang naa-update. Kung isa akong computer at ang karunungan ay yung Anti-virus… malamang sa malamang hindi ko na kayang i-block yung mga viruses, na sumisimbolo sa lahat ng negative factors ng nag-iinarte kong buhay, na nagpepenetrate sa aking system… Phewhew! Hindi man lang ako updated. Wala kasi akong internet connection, mabagal pang mag-process ang Pentium III kong utak.

Para sa kaalaman nio, last sem? bokya ako. Bokya ako sa lahat ng dapat ay merong bago sa akin ngayon. Wala eh. May mga libro akong hindi nabuklat, mga subjects na palaging late kong pinapasukan, mga lectures na hindi maintindihan. mga professor na kinainisan at hinangaan, mga klasmeyt na pinagtitripan, mga baon na sinayang.  Tingin nio ba isa ito sa mga signus na nawawalan na ako ng ganang mag-aral? Huwag naman sana, madami pa akong pangarap. Madami pa akong gustong gawin. Madami pa akong gustong maitulong… Madami pa…

Kaya nga heto ako ngayon, nagbblog. Yehhheees… Analaking bagay non para sa pag-aaral ko, noh? Ahahahah. Hindi na, seryoso na…

Kung alam nio lang kung anong proseso ang pinagdaanan ko last sem na ayaw na ayaw kong maulit pa. Pero kahit anong gawin ko, parang uulit at uulit pa rin yung mga senaryong gusto ko ng iwasan. Ika nga nila, history repeats itself. Kung history at history lang ang pag-uusapan, napakailkli naman ng history ko para umulit? Ahahaha. Linggo lang ang pagitan! Ahahaha. Sem break lang ang pagitan!

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Grabe sa Intregral… Nag-quiz kami kanina… AT WALA TALAGA AKONG MAISAGOT. Pandaraya na lang ang tanging paraan para makascore ako sa quiz na yun. Namental block kasi ako. If there’s a subject I’m hating the most, yun ay Differential Calculus. Salamat sa prof naming si Durog at wala akong natututunan sa kanya at wala akong matutunan sa Integral Calculus. Napakawalang kwenta niang guro. Aminado ako na sa part ko hindi ko na hindi ko nagagawa ng mabuti, pero I’m trying! Siya kasi hindi nia tinatry… Ang dami niang excuses. Ayan tuloy, nang dahil hindi nia chinachallenge yung excuses nia, kami ang napahamak… At madami pang mapapahamak… Whew!

Mukang magsa-summer na naman ako… Wag naman sana…

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I’m loving the PBB Double Up… Kaya lang kasi nakakaasar yung MOST ng mga housemates lalo na sa house B… Ampaplastik nila… Makikita mo yung pakitang-tao sa pakitang-totoo… Haaay….

I doubt anybody in my street or building would know my name, let alone scheming a party in my honour.

Reading Cannery row left me longing for a more social and friendly lifestyle. I value people, always have, but admit that engaging in small talk without yawning has never been my forte.

When learning about the simple life of the characters in the row, I was envious of the lack of stress in it.  And specially coveted Mack and the boys’ relationship. It sounds so very content, harmonious and most of all, loyal.

But it is a small book, and to console myself, I chose to believe that if the story kept going for longer, we would eventually read of anecdotes telling of how, at some point, there were ”irreconcilable differences” that might have had bad, even catastrophic endings.  

Mack’s reflections over the uncountable occasions where he had the kindest and best of intentions, but for so many reasons his plans would unmistakably go wrong and end in drama, admittedly,  made me relate to him.

It is this fear of catastrophe that grants me a tendency at work for taking one of two extreme alternatives: micromanage or detach myself of all responsibility and disengage.  A pretty tough confession to make, but one that when spit out and put in writing,  helps me to attempt a change.

I connected with the book and the authors views, expressed through his characters and their nature. It is passionate, humane and transparent. No small talk, a pleasure to have read it.

WWW

So.. yea…

Before I go into the emails that I got from the Crack Whore, I have to fill you in on a few things regarding the kids.

Weed has completed the G.E.D course but needs $75 to register for the actual test. I told him last week that I would give him a money order for the amount next week when my unemployment check came in. He said that the Crack Whore told the judge :: his GED was court ordered.. or something like that :: that she would pay for the test but that wasn’t happening. Because, yknow, the windfall from her bogus lawsuit only lasted about 10 days. Damn that week spent in Atlantic City.

Bubba is back living with us and things didn’t get any better until Friday when I got an email from his teacher saying, basically, that he’s acting like an asshole.. not doing any work in school.. and she’s sick of it. He has now lost ALL liberties. He’s grounded.. the laptop was taken away.. he can only use the computer for school work (with supervision) .. no playstation.. AND I have the joy of picking him up from school everyday to keep him honest.

But on a good note, he isn’t acting up about it at all and has really been pretty good about it. Not that he has a choice, mind you, but I’ll give credit where credit is due and he isn’t acting all Eyeore-ish about it.

Spaz’s school pictures came in and I have a parent / teacher conference on Monday morning.

Okay.. so..

Considering ALL the drama that went on with Bubba and the Crack Whore last month, Chief asked me to email her about Bubba’s latest mis-adventures so that SHE would know what the dealio was and not believe Bubba and his violin playing. I also told her that I had school pictures for her.

Because, yknow.. I’m not that much of a bitch that I wouldn’t give her school pictures of her kid.

So I email her on Friday afternoon and didn’t hear anything from her until yesterday afternoon:

Hello Leese, I just want to take a minute to thank you for giving me the update on [Bubba's] progress.I really appreciate it………Thnaks for caring enough to share,also can’t wait to get school pictures .thank you sincerely for thinking of me when it comes to their school pictures and progess

,have a great day and thanks again

….hope you guys have a great thanksgiving,not sure what [Bubba] and [Spaz] are doing for thanksgiving but if you guys dont already have plans ill gladly take the to my moms for dinner.please let me know ,,,,,,thanks again ,,,,[The Crack Whore]

So I email her back and basically tell her the update on Bubba and that the kids were staying at Bird’s house for the weekend but I would ask them about them going with her on Thanksgiving. I also asked her if Weed ever got glasses because Chief had suggested we pay for him to get a pair for Christmas. I also mentioned that we were going to give him the money for his G.E.D.

This is the next email I got:

Leese ,hello again and thank you for responding about the boys 4 thanksgiving Their grandparents and i would love to spend the day of thanks with them…I’m excited i hope they want to come…..as for [Weed] yes i took him to the eye doctor he has 2 pairs of glasses he also got all his teeth done….i got him a play station 3 system well actually it was bought 4 all the boys as far as what to get [Weed] 4 Xmas i know he loves that 1 play station game that u guys have and play all the time i cant remember the name of it ill find out.I want to thank both of you for helping with the g.e.d money i got him through school ,pushed his ass through the classes but he did it I’m very proud of him …As soon as he has the money were able to schedule him for testing,i would ask that you or [Chief] inform me when u give him the money cause honestly i cant trust him he might just use it to party and i don’t want that.if you like u or [Chief] can give me a call and ill tell you the exact amount it is and you guys can put it in a money order and write it out immediately to the college this way he cant touch it.I’m not doubting [Weed] its just sometimes he puts partying before the important things .please keep this between us i would appreciate that.thanks again for thinking of me w/the school pictures and truly thankful for helping [Weed] with his school money.take care ,be safe and have a great holiday.sincerely [The Crack Whore].Leese i know you work very hard with my children and take very good care of them I also know how much you love them.Their very lucky and blessed to have you and I’m blessed to have my children around such a good woman ,THANK YOU.P.S sorry about the time on the email this is what time i get up for work

Ok.. “.. blessed to have my children around such a good woman”? There’s no way in HELL she wasn’t smoking, swallowing or inhaling something.
And what’s up with the whole “… get up for work”. Well, maybe trolling bars and finding men to pay her rent and cable bill is what she considers work. Not sure. But I guess it COULD be considering she had to do it every month.

Dunno.. and don’t know who long before the current mood wears off.

Funny thing though.. I didn’t tell Chief about the emails or what their content. I don’t know why, exactly. I do know that my still waters have been running deep and I haven’t had the right opportunity to to have a conversation about him about how I’ve been feeling about things going on and how I feel about them.

He tends to just ignore the obvious.. or doesn’t want to deal with the obvious. In fact, tonight when we were watching Dexter, there was a surprise ending that he had picked up on last week.

So after his AH! HA! I TOLD YOU!!! moment, I said to him:

How is it that you are so in tune to the random but oblivious to the obvious?

He was all like “… what do you mean?” .. and I was all “.. just what I said” and he was like, “Tell me! I’m scared…”

But deep down, I know.. it’s just getting HIM to admit it!

Every once in awhile life throws you a curve ball, either you bat it away or you avoid it and strike out. This is one of those times for me. I thought that after graduating I could get a little time off to relax and cool down after all the buzz from studying non-stop for 16 years (whewww) but it turns out life wanted something different from me. I guess now is the time I fix myself, repair all the damage that has been done over the 4 years I’ve been away from home. Apparently my parents think that being away from college for 4 years has changed me into a different person from when I left and they keep trying to mold me back into the little girl that sent off to college in the first place. Isn’t that the whole point of going away from home? To experience new things and to find who I really am? I feel like I’m going to explode and turn back into the sullen teenager I was the last time they tried to mold me. I hate this feeling and I really wish I could just have my own life and live it as I please. I’ve always been the type of person that lives day by day, not much planning and not properly scheduled. At least that’s what I’ve been doing the past 4 years which is completely different to how my parents view life. It’s tiring when you have to plan every single second of everyday and I hate being tired! How can I get them to understand that I like the way I am now? It’s an impossible situation really, I can understand why they would want me to be as they “parented” me for my entire life. But on the other hand I find no harm in letting me be as I am. So you get why I feel so torn?

I have so much I want to do, but I keep biting nails with the parents about the things I want. Grad school applications can wait until next year (at least I want to have a bit of time before another round of school) and I really want to continue piano, vocal, cello lessons in the mean time. Get a care-free part time job at some place that doesn’t require too much effort and just take it easy. But no, I according to the grand plan set out for me I have to get a high profile job now that will pay off my expenses for grad school, set off for grad school ASAP and stay on this high strung path they have me on. I’ve always had an escape when I was still in college. When things started to get too much at home I’ve always had the promise of college to look forward too or at least some absurd assignment that requires me to be back on campus early. Now all that is just wishful thinking.

Have you ever felt that the world is moving at a different pace then you? Have you ever felt lost and confused? Please give me pointers on what to do next!! Don’t get me wrong I love my parents, and I do respect them but I just don’t want to live in their pace and in their expectations.

I can only hope and pray that I have the ability to bat a home run for this curve ball. I need all my strength to hold on to what I am and my dreams for my life.

Soundtrack of the day:

Listen to the song here in my heart
A melody I start but can’t complete
Listen to the sound from deep within
It’s only beginning to find release

The time has come for my dreams to heard
They will not be pushed aside and turned
Into your own all cause you won’t listen

Listen I am alone at the crossroads
I’m not at home in my own home
And I’ve tried and tried to say what’s on my mind
You should have known, oh
Now I’m done believing you
You don’t know what I’m feeling
I’m more then what you made of me
I followed the voice you gave to me
And now I gotta find my own

You should have listened
There is someone here inside
Someone I thought had died so long ago
Oh I’m free now and my dreams will be heard
They will not be pushed aside and turned
Into your own all cause you won’t listen

Listen I am alone at the crossroads
I’m not at home in my own home
And I’ve tried and tried to say what’s on my mind
You should have known, oh
Now I’m done believing you
You don’t know what I’m feeling
I’m more then what you made of me
I followed the voice you gave to me
And now I gotta find my own

I don’t know where I belong but I’ll be moving on
If you don’t
If you wont

Listen

To the song here in my heart
A melody I start but I will complete
Now I’m done believing you
You don’t know what I’m feeling
I’m more then what you made of me
I followed the voice you think you gave to me
But now I gotta find my own
My own

It’s official! I am a creeper!

No, no, no, I hope not. But this is my plug for my absolute most favorite favorite favorite favorite favorite social media blog, Mashable. What a genius this guy is. A blog covering internet, technology, and social media news. You can find up-to-the-minute news about Google, AT&T, Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, EBay, and many more techy/online related stories. I love the fact that they cover hard hitting news as well as quirky, funny stories about users on these sites, as well as current social media trends.

Cashmore founded this blog in 2005 at just the ripe age of 19 (which makes him only 23). I am not really attracted to younger men… but… if your name starts with Pete and ends with Cashmore, I think I can give you a fast pass. Ok, I am getting creepy.

If you ever happen to read this Pete, I am not that creepy in real life and I would love to write for your website anytime (one of these days!). I have a lot of writing samples. If you google “gap christmas advertising campaign” my blog on FSSD is the first one. And I really like your jaw-line. I promise I won’t be creepy in person.

Questions about this post? Email me at karen@fashiongroupie.com and while you’re at it follow me on twitter @fashion_groupie

Questions about this post? Email me at karen@fashiongroupie.com and while you’re at it follow me on twitter @fashion_groupie

Gedoe.

Omdat het nou eenmaal gemakkelijker is om te twijfelen dan om keuzes te maken.

Ce trist rasuna-n viata, batranul clopot!
Mai trist ca altadata, mai trist ca orisicand.
Ca frante, dintr-un suflet, accentele-i duioase.
Spre violeta zare, se pierd prelung vibrand.

Si fiecare sunet, ce ratacind, pluteste spre infinitul spatiu
In urma lui rasfrange atata-nduiosare
Ca tinerele ramuri, se-ndoaie infiorate
Si frunza parca plange!

Deasupra ceru-albastru, ca o cupola pare,
Solemna, maiestruoasa, pe culmi, pe munti zidita,
Pe care se destrama insangerate raze
Din soarele ce pare o inima ranita.

Cu urmele-nserarii s-a stins in departare,
Vibrarea de pe urma jalnicului cant,
Incremeniti, pe-ntunecate pascuri,
Tacuti si-nrugaciune, acuma, brazii sunt!

Wow! It’s Fall already and it’s amazingly beautiful out here! God is quite the artist! I love this time of the year, It’s my favorite! Scott and I were talking about how we can’t believe it’s already mid November – where did the month go?
The title of this blog came from my daydreams the other day. While watching a sweet little love story on Lifetime, actually something worth watching that day, one of the guy characters was asked for his favorite destination. He replied “Tuscany in the Fall”. I immediately started dreaming. Scott and I have always favored the vineyard type style of wallpaper, pictures, etc. for our kitchen and dining room because of the feeling we get when we view Italian set villas, couples sipping on wine, relaxing and enjoying each other’s company, quite romantic to say the least.
I instantly felt relaxed and distracted, which I needed. See we may be at the lighted part of our tunnel and be filled with hope but we’re still struggling and fighting to get out of the pit our journey dug for us! The work is steady – Praise God! The hours are long. Our Heavenly Father continues to sustain us and is so amazingly faithful! We are so blessed yet continuously tired, rushed, angry, sad, all of it, the feelings flood over us on a regular basis. But on Sunday, there was a calm, a peace, and it was so easy to escape into my daydream. God knew I needed that – all of it! (Scott did too, needed it, that is.)
All knowing as He is, I trust He will deliver many more daydreams and even some doses of amazing reality as we continue to pull ourselves out and rely on Him for our strength! Looking forward to being all the way over there on the other side but never forgetting how He carried us through!

Vis de-argint si de petale,
Cuibul tau e sus pe creste,
Raza ta coboara-n vale,
Mai frumos ca-ntr-o poveste.

Tu, floare de colt,
Minune sub bolti,
Frageda stea,
Iubitul meu.

Floare ninsa-n varf de stanca
Mai presus de nori si stele;
Cine oare sa te-ajunga?
Numai dorurile mele!

Floare de lumina vie,
Zambet cald de dimineata,
Te-astept de-o vesnicie,
Te-ntalnesc o data-n viata!

I’m having major second thoughts about this whole going back to college idea…

I went to my campus this past week to get some paperwork sorted out, and I got lost.  Not on the way there, not on campus…I got lost in the main building.  It’s three stories tall.  I couldn’t find the elevator. 

I have completely lost my mind.  I’m confused, I don’t know where to go on campus or who to talk to or what to do, and I haven’t even attended my first class!  It has me wondering how I’ll ever be able to negotiate college in my 30’s.

I’ve also started freaking out now that I’m making my to-do lists and working on my scheduling.  I’m starting to realize that a lot of things are going to have to change if I do this.  I am passionate about leading our children’s ministry at our church, but I may have to give it up while I’m in school.  My youngest is going to start playing T-ball this spring…how many T-ball games will I have to miss because I’m studying or working to pay for college?  How many bedtime stories will I not get to read?  How many nights will I get 3 or 4 hours of sleep because I’m cramming for a major test?  What if I do a year’s worth of work and don’t get into the program I want?  What if I do get in and start school full time?  What about spending time with my family, hanging out with friends, running, reading, traveling with my family?  I have a life that I really love, and I’m starting to wonder how much of it I’m going to have to give up and whether or not this whole college idea is worth it…yes, I want to finish my degree, but is the price I’ll have to pay to get there going to be worth it?  Three years seemed so short at first…now it looks like an eternity looming before me.

love should not be allowed to be a word

it is too big.

it is too big and too heavy

to be held in the delicate grasp

of four small letters.

we are cheated

when “love” is attached to this and to that

because

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

is it a passionate moment

your first childhood friend

devotion of a life to another

attraction to pain

a figment of our small imaginations?

and does each version of love stir in us the same emotions

or do they sit worlds apart?

should they?

love should not be allowed to leave our lips

if only to be used lightly,

because its meaning becomes jaded and weightless.

there should be seventy-three thousand, four hundred and eight words to use

rather than love

so that everyone knows what one another are talking about;

then again, my blue is your periwinkle

and your summer my winter.

so

when we are all out of breath

sick and tired of trying to figure out what love really means

(or is supposed to mean, feel, look like, taste like, smell like)

there sits love

waiting for us

bigger than it has ever been before

if only our memories

could be placed in jars

(like nuts, bolts & screws)

to use as we wish in the coming seasons

or simply to look upon as the whole story

with fondness