I feel like most of the up and downs of my life come out of the dichotomies that I create. I talk myself into one thing and then I feel horrible about it so I do ahead and do the opposite and then feel terrible about that. I would like to be thinner and fit into such clothing but every time I go on a diet, I think about how life is short and why the fuck shouldn’t I be able to eat whatever I want. Then I get frustrated and hate life when I can’t buy the clothes I want because I ate that stupid piece of chocolate.
I want to be able to book more photo sessions and have a lot of clients but then I get sad that I am so booked that I don’t have time to do other things I love like read and relax. I want to sign up David for some of the mom and baby courses so he gets to interact with other children but then each time we go to one of those things, he cries all the way there and all the way home. Sometimes he even acts grouchy there. So then I wonder should I have stayed home with him afterall. I want to sleep more but I feel like I am wasting time. I want my work environment to be more intellectually stimulating sometimes but then I don’t want to sacrifice the other parts of my life like time with David. I want to keep writing this site every single day. I think about it constantly. I want to keep up on my email and take the time to keep in touch with my friends. But I don’t want to give up any of the other things that take up all my life and time.
I am constantly plagued by thoughts of one of these struggles. The even more frustrating part is that I am never happy with the option I choose because each time, while I execute the one I picked, I am thinking of the other one, the consequences of the one I picked. The pants I won’t be able to wear because of the chocolate I am eating, the chocolate I don’t get to eat because I want to fit in the pants. The life I don’t get to have, the life I long for. It’s just that I partly always feel like I am missing out. Like I am cheating a part of me.
Not exactly sure how to get out of the loop. I guess the idea is to pick one and just be content with it. But I honestly don’t know how.
If I were superstitious, I’d say I must shut down my site. Since I began rewriting, I threw out my back, I got swamped with work, David got a stuffy nose, I got a sinus infection, I got a fever, David lost his voice, and David got an ear infection. All in a month’s work.
One of the reasons, among many many, that I wanted to nurse is because it’s known that babies who are nursed get sick less often. David made it to eight months without any sickness at all. And then he got a stuffy nose. Everyone told me it was teeth. Well, two weeks passed, and still stuffy nose, still drooling, but no teeth. Then he woke up with no voice. When he cried, all we could hear were tiny squeals. That was so sad, but not even nearly as sad as the small, tiny laughs that came out without a sound.
We went to the doctor a week into the stuffy nose but there was nothing else wrong. So, after a week, when he lost his voice, I wanted to take him back to the doctor and Jake thought I was insane. But I dragged him anyway. Which is when I found out David had an ear infection. And the doctor said it wouldn’t have gone away on its own and I was wise to bring him in now while it’s still mild. Yey for maternal instinct.
Being sick and having a sick baby means everything else goes to shits. Nothing gets done. Mommy feels sorry for herself and she feels sorry for her little boy who’s getting sick for the first time. So now that we’re both feeling better, I’ve been trying to play catchup. I have six shoots in the next six weeks. My parents are coming to town next week for three weeks. I just deleted 4893 spam emails from my work account. I have fifty-seven personal emails to respond to and not the kind that take one or two minutes. The kind where you want to take the time and write a long response to and thus you keep putting off. I have to clean up my house and get it ready for my parents’ arrival. Not to mention, I might have to move in two months and thus look for a new place to live, pack up all of our crap and move and unpack all the crap. Just thinking about it all makes me want to burst into tears.
So that’s my excuse for “coming back” and then disappearing almost right away. How did I do?
I have noticed over the years that whenever I’m in a repeating group setup (like committee meetings, mom’s groups, class, etc.) there are one or two people who immediately stick out to me. These few people give me the vibe that they dislike me. Right away, I feel uneasy around them and go home wondering why they dislike me so much.
Over the years, I’ve often felt self-conscious and sad that people don’t like me. I’ve also noticed a pattern I go through when dealing with them. I first try to be really nice (“suck up”) and see if I can change whatever it is that’s making them unhappy with me. After a few weeks of this, somewhere along the line, I decide I don’t like them either. My dislike then grows stronger and stronger until I can’t stand the person any longer.
Doesn’t that sound fucked up to you? It does to me.
On Sunday, while reading Paolo Coelho’s new novel, I realized something. My current theory is that I’m projecting. When I meet these people for the first time, there’s something about me that I dislike that I see in them. Something about them reminds me of myself and I pick up on it without knowing it.
All those weeks I spend sucking up to them, I am really looking for reasons to blame them for not living up to my expectations of liking me. And then the whole thing, as expected, falls apart and now I hate them. When all along I set the whole thing up without realizing it. I don’t know if this is true but it’s my current theory. So next time I get this feeling, I am going to work hard to pinpoint where it’s coming from.
Or it could just be that they really don’t like me and I am not projecting or being paranoid.
“Blessed are those who are not afraid to admit that they don’t know something.” – The Zahir by Paolo Coelho
One of my biggest pet-peeves is when people don’t admit if they don’t know something. I had a friend like that. There were times when it was obvious he wasn’t following me and yet he’d simply nod and act like he was completely following me.
I find this to be true for both men and women, but for different reasons. Men are too macho and it’s not “macho” to admit that you may not know something. Women are too scared to look stupid, expecially when they talk to someone who isn’t. It drives me absolutely bonkers in both cases. Fact is, won’t you stay stupid if you never admit you don’t know something and thus never ask and never learn?
Somehow I misses the memo that said it was embarrassing to ask questions. I ask shit all the time to everyone. First of all, I find people like talking about stuff they know. Secondly, they love when they have the opportunity to teach you something. It makes them look good. So there’s an opportunity for you to learn something AND to make the other person feel good.
Why, exactly, would you pass that up?
Also, why does not knowing something make you look stupid? None of us know everything and we could all learn from each other if only we weren’t afraid to ask.
So, next time you have the opportunity to learn from someone. Seize it.
And then let me know,too, so I can learn!
I know it’s lame to stop writing a few days after “I’m back” from a break. But it seems things conspired to get in the way. First, my in-laws came to visit for the first time in seven months. This meant we were out all day and not on the computer when we were home. It also meant that Jake and I went on our first dates since David was born. It was weird being out alone. It felt like we were sneaking. I did miss David a lot even though we were only gone for about 2 hours and it was while David was sleeping. I just kept thinking of him and his smile and his breathing.
The night after my in-laws left, David began his weird waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night thing which is still going on. But just to add more fun to the adventure, I threw out my back for the first time since we came to San Diego. The whole time I was pregnant, I was worried about my back suddenly starting to hurt again. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to hold David as a baby and burp him. I was worried I’d be stuck in bed while everyone else held him and hugged him. Well none of that happened. I was perfectly, completely, totally fine. No real back-ache to speak of.
A week ago, something felt funny as I bent down and since then I haven’t been able to stand up without excruciating pain. Last time this happened, I was on Vioxx for almost two years and I did a lot of physical therapy and acupuncture for it to get better. Well, now Vioxx is off the market, I am nursing and I can’t take any medication. Except for Tylanol which I only let myself take twice a day since I don’t want to medicate David. Without the medicine to take off the edge of the pain, life’s been a ton of fun. Hence sitting at the computer hasn’t been one of my favorite activities lately.
Hence the no updates. Forgive me yet?
I am hoping that my stupid back will miraculously heal itself since I am determined not to take any pills and have a long long way to go before I am ready to stop nursing (think months in teens not in single digits) so cross your fingers for me and hope that the pain goes away as mysteriously and quickly as it came.
The good side of the pain has been that I’ve been in bed more and thus reading more. And my mother in law bought me six new books for my past birthday. I just finished _Running with Scissors_ which, while nothing compared to _A Million Little Pieces_, was still a very engrossing read. I am now reading the new Paolo Coelho book. He’s always an interesting and worthwhile read for me. As always, open for any and all recommendations.
Monday was my birthday.
It seems there are those who make a big deal of their birthday and those who prefer to completely ignore it. I have always belonged to the former category. I come from a family which makes big deals out of birthdays and I subscribe to the idea. It’s not really because birthdays themselves are all that special. To me, it’s just an excuse to stop and appreciate that person.
Sure we should treat each other like we’re special every day, but fact is life gets in the way. Most days are ordinary and we do our thing and try to treat others with kindness (unless we’re grouchy) but the day passes on and we sit in front of our computers, read our books, watch TV and do all the other things we do to spend time. I don’t know many people who regularly take the time to acknowledge the people in their lives. Most people don’t even work too hard to keep up with their friends. So that’s the point of birthdays, for me.
It’s an excuse to remind someone how much they mean to you. A reason to stop and think of them and dedicate a few or a lot of your time that particular day to them. So even if all the other days come and go, you know that on that day you’ll feel special and talk to all the people you love and take a moment.
For those of you who whine about getting older, I’d hate to break the news to you but you get older every single day. Nothing magical happens on the eve of your birthday to make you older. So stop being whiny on the morning of your birthday about that. Life isn’t about your age, it’s about how you’ve used your days. There are people who live empty lives for 80 years and those who live full ones for only 30. Which would you rather have?
This year was particularly peaceful for me. I woke up feeling exceptionally happy for no reason. David woke up to eat at 3am but then went back down until 6:30. I worked, I prepared for my shoot on Tuesday, I cooked and pureed David’s food. We played and talked and my family called and my friends called and my friends emailed and it was wonderful. Jake bought me presents. We went to eat an early dinner with good food and delicious dessert. It was very ordinary and very magical all in one. I realized on Monday that I am truly happy. I cannot remember feeling this peaceful in years. If ever.
It really was a perfect birthday and thank you for all the good wishes. 31 is looking fantastic so far.
I have been a John Irving fan from the first book I read. I can’t even remember who told me about A Prayer for Owen Meany but I do remember that people stopped me to praise the book when I was reading it. I had the library hardcover and people of all ages commented on it. Old women, teenagers. It was their favorite book.
And they were right. If you haven’t read A Prayer For Owen Meany make sure to do so. It’s fantastic. I went on a total Irving kick after that. I read The World According to Garp, Hotel New Hampshire, The Water-Method Man, Cider House Rules, Setting Free the Bears, The 158-Pound Marriage, A Widow for One Year, and all the others I could get my hands on. I read The Fourth Hand as soon as it came out (though that one wasn’t my favorite). I’ve read them all, except for Son of the Circus. There’s something about Irving’s writing that I adore. It might be that he emulates Dickens and Davies, who are two of my favorite authors. It might be that I feel for his twisted, tragic characters and his endless plots.
I started his latest novel almost two weeks ago. A novel never takes me this long to read. Not even an 800-page one. For some reason, I took my time with this one. I even read another novel in between and listened to three others. But I kept coming back to it. I wasn’t giving up on Irving. I knew I was going to fall into the story at some point.
Two nights ago, I did.
It took my two weeks to read 450 pages and two days to read the next 250. I have about 80 pages left and I am not sleeping until I finish this story. It’s at the point where the entire novel turned on itself and I cannot wait to see the ending and find out what happens to Jack Burns. I now think about it constantly. I feel like I know the characters in real life. To me, only the best books can accomplish that. It’s an especially amazing feat for Irving whose characters are people I’d be completely unlikely to know in this life or in any other. I still do. I feel like I know them. I feel like they are living, breathing people.
While a part of me is dying to finish the story finally, another part of me will be so disappointed when it’s over. When these people won’t be there to greet me each night.
If you’ve never read Irving, make sure to pick up a book of his. Start with Owen Meany or, if you haven’t seen the movie, Cider House Rules. They are simply fantastic. Storytelling at its best.
Let the bitching begin.
Two weeks ago a friend and I were talking on the phone. Out of the blue, the conversation turned ugly and he started asking me weird questions and getting increasingly angry/demanding. I had no idea where this was coming from and tried to take it with a grain of salt and even apologized for actions that weren’t wrong. I tried to soothe him but it was no go. He didn’t realize how upset he was and wouldn’t admit to being angry. After a while more of unloading on me, he hung up.
A few days later, he called me back and chatted away like nothing happened. At first I was taken aback and wondered whether I imagined the whole thing. I considered bringing it up myself but I didn’t want to rehash any of the issues so I left it alone and decided to wait. He and I talk several times a day so I figured it would eventually come up.
Here we are two weeks and at least ten conversations later and the issue never ever came up again. None of: “I’m sorry , I don’t know what came over me.” or “I must have been losing my mind.” or “Other stuff was making me upset, I am sorry I took it out on you.” I would have apologized but honestly, I hadn’t said a word and this wasn’t an argument as much as it was his unloading on me. So I went from flabbergasted to fuming.
I can totally understand that we all have bad days and times when we’re overly stressed. I can alos understand that we often take it out from those closest to us. But there’s no excuse for not acknowledging such an occurence. I was quite hurt, sad, and worried after that exchange and his not acknowledging it makes me feel like all the actions were justified. Even if he’d called me and continued to yell at me, I would have prefered that over lets-act-like-nothing-happened. WTF?
People and actions like that irk me. We all fuck up at times but let’s be a man (to use a really stereotypical phrase) about it. There’s nothing wrong with calling a good friend and apologizing. There’s a lot to be respected in humility and candor. And there’s no fucking thing to be proud of in feeling like if we don’t ever bring it up, it will be like it never happened. It did happen. Even if you want to act otherwise.
I am not waiting for an apology or even an explanation. I am happy to and already have forgiven him. I just want him to acknowledge it so I don’t feel like my feelings aren’t worthless to him. Mayne it’s asking for too much but I cannot stand acting. I like things out in the open. I like honesty. I like candid. Bring it on. If you put it out there, we may be able to resolve it. If you don’t, we never will.
It’s been almost two months since my last entry. I’ve had this site on and off for five years. I wasn’t sure if I was going to miss writing this time. There are times when writing here is fun and times when it feels more like a chore. In the months preceding the closing, it had become more like the latter. Each night that I went to bed without updating, I’d feel like I let someone down. Fact is, I have few readers, but I still felt like shit. Which is why I stopped.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to miss any of it. I haven’t been taking photos (except of David) and I have just begun sleeping again and my days are filled with David, work, a new small business, reading, and, of course, Jake. I figured my life was full enough.
But I did miss it.
From the day I turned ten to Freshman year in college, I kept a diary every single night. Many people asked me how I found something to write each night. I just did. I liked writing every day. It was my thing. That’s sort of how I feel about this place. I want to make sure it never goes away. Since college, I’ve attempted to keep diaries many times and it just never worked. When David was born, I promised myself (as I did when I found out I was pregnant) that I would keep a written record. I have managed to take photos every day he’s been alive (except day three) but I have three failed attempts at writing. Whatever little I’ve written here is the most I’ve written anywhere.
So I am going to keep writing. I can’t promise it will be consistently, but I am going to try hard. I won’t post photos when I don’t have them but I also won’t let that stop me from posting. I will try to write a tidbit about David each day, more for me than you, I’m putting it in a different section so if you don’t want to read it, feel free to skip it. Sometimes the David section might be longer than the main section, but not usually. Once I start taking regular photos again, I will post those too. At least that’s the plan. And we know what happens to best laid plans.
So there we are. This is the closest thing I got to my childhood diaries. And I miss writing down my ideas. I miss talking about my random thoughts. I miss sharing my emotions. I miss recording my life. The everydayness of my life.
But, mostly, I missed the bitching. So expect some whiny posts coming soon.
Thank you for sticking around.
My son belly-laughing.
New books from my favorite authors.
A beautiful Southern California day.
Long chats with good friends.
A smiling David after a long, happy nap.
Code that works in the first try.
Figuring out a bug I’ve spent weeks on.
Taking photographs.
Sunday Morning paper and breakfast in bed.
Knitting, making jewelry, scrapbooking and other forms of craftiness.
My husband.
Chocolate.
Days when all my to-do lists are accomplished.
My nephews.
Music. Tons and tons of music.
Car trips.
National Parks. State Parks. Beaches. Nature.
TV and movies.
Working from home.
Computers and programming
Hugs. Enveloping hugs.
and of course brown paper packages in the mail.
What are some of your favorite things?
David turned five months old yesterday. I know it’s pathetic that I haven’t updated in nine days after saying I wanted to update more often but we’ve had a long and difficult week. Mostly cause mom has lost her mind.
Last Saturday, I was online surfing about sleeping issues and came across the Baby Whisperer book. Something rang true so I went out and bought it right away. And proceeded to implement it. For those of you who are unfamilair with it, it goes something like this: You put the baby on an EASY schedule. He eats, plays (Activity) and then sleeps so you get some You time. (Eat, Activity, Sleep, You). You feed the baby every 3 hours. (or four if he’s over four months old). Anyhow the idea is to teach the baby to self-soothe. What you do is you put him in the crib and then if he cries, you pick him up and when he calms you put him down. You do this as long as it takes.
Our first night went badly. He was up from 1-3 and then from 5-7. The book said the first night would be hard so I persevered. The second night was perfect. He slept all the way from 8 to 5am. I dream-fed him and he never woke up. I felt great! I was sure it was working. I had finally found something that worked.
Riiiiiighhhtttt.
Come day four, David won’t go to bed without crying in my arms or in his crib with me wrapped all over him. He wakes up four times a night. Sometimes for an hour, crying. At least for an hour. Today, day six, he was so bad that he would start stiffening and wailing as soon as we entered the bedroom. While Jake was putting him down and picking him up, he explained to me that this was no different from crying it out. I yelled at him and got mad but eventually admitted that he was right. As soon as I admitted it, I completely relaxed. I’d been stressing all week from hearing him cry and feeling like shit about it. Now I didn’t have to any more.
I took my son out for a walk and then at bedtime, I sat with him for thirty minutes while rubbed his belly, his head, his tummy and whatever else he needed to sleep. He fell asleep peacefully and has now been sleeping for 1.5hrs without a stir. I will NEVER do that to my kid again. If he wakes up seventeen times a night until he’s a teenager so be it. That’s what it means to have a kid, right? What’s the point in having them if I am going to complain that he’s inconvenient.
I feel much better now and I am a lot more relaxed. I love my son and I am so so lucky that he’s the smiliest and easiest boy in the world. Any other kid would have hated me for what I put him through in the last week. But my amazing son continued to smile at me and laugh when I kissed him.
Happy Five Months, David, I love you with all my heart.
I’m not sure why I haven’t been writing. Honestly, it’s mosly cause I haven’t been in the mood. I’ll try to do better in July. One of the things I love most about my blog is that I get to go back and read about the past. If I don’t update often, I don’t have that luxury, so I will try harder. I figured before the month is up, I should do some updates.
David’s still not sleeping. His dad is being extremely gracious and helping me out incredibly by holding and consoling him throughout the night except the two times he eats which is when I get up. Since I haven’t slept in so long, my sleeping patterns are all messed up and between that and my aching boobs, I still don’t get too much sleep but it’s considerably better since my amazing husband has stepped in to help. As for David we’re still hoping he’ll “grow out of it.” especially since there appears to be nothing wrong with him physically and he’s the happiest baby ever. Laughing and smiling like a crazy person. If you don’t believe me, you can watch this video of us playing. Then you’ll know how awesome he is.
The reading craze is still continuing. I am now reading Specimen Days from the author of The Hours. This book is not nearly as good as the Hours, especially since it’s a bit like horror and that’s definitely not my genre. But Cunnigham’s writing still quite beautiful. Next in line are Hornby and Melissa Bank. I am so excited to be reading again. David and I have started a routine of walking to the mall for lunch so he gets his afternoon nap while mom eats her lunch and reads. It’s the most serene hour of my day.
 My little boy must be teething because he’s drooling like a faucet and has this unquenchable need to suck and bite stuff. The other night he sucked on my chin so hard that he gave me my very first hickey. We had a breakfast date with a friend of Jake’s the next morning and I was very embarrased to wake up to a big black and blue bruise. I wasn’t sure how to explain it. Who knew I’d get my first hickey from my son?
As I mentioned months ago, I am making a scrapbook for David’s first year. It has one page for each week. He just finished week twenty, and I just finished week 17 so I am not that behind. When I am not with him, sleeping, eating, working or reading, I am putting the book together. I want to have a great record of his first year. If anyone out there is a big scrapbook person and has some good ideas, feel free to send them my way. If you want to see my layouts so far, shoot me an email. I will eventually put them all up but I haven’t gotten all that organized just yet.
Other than the lack of sleep, life’s quite wonderful here in Karenika-land. I wish I had a bit more time to read/write and work on the scrapbook. But life is always too short when you’re having fun, isn’t it?
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projects for twenty twenty-six
projects for twenty twenty-five
projects for twenty twenty-four
projects for twenty twenty-three
projects for twenty twenty-two
projects for twenty twenty-one
projects for twenty nineteen
projects for twenty eighteen
projects from twenty seventeen
monthly projects from previous years
some of my previous projects
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