Shakabuku

Debi: You know what you need?
Marty: What?
Debi: Shakabuku.
Marty: You wanna tell me what that means?
Debi: It's a swift, spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.
Marty: Oh, that'd be good. I think.

Now, watch this short clip. I'll wait. Or as I see all over the web, we'll continue after the jump.

(I apologize for the clips dialogue not being in English, but the dialogue really has nothing to do with it)

It's what I needed. And I got it. I can't thank the people that helped enough, including my wonderful wife who put up with a whole lot of my bullshit as I not only suffered, but suffered in silence (and sometimes not so silently) and projected it all over everyone around me. And I should thank all those people that tried to get through to me. And apologize to them, as well, not for not hearing you, but not wanting to hear you.

And in a funny way, I should thank the folks who dropped a boatload of negative vibes in my lap recently. Your actions allowed the cup to spilleth over, as it were, and you set in motion the events that lead me to sit here, and for the first time in years, truly feel like myself again. Or at least, that my true self is emerging from a slumber, stretching arms and yawning, gaining bearing.

For close to 10 years I've had a myriad of reasons to shelter myself. Fear based reasons. Fear of being hurt emotionally by anybody. Fear of security (life security, that is). Fear of non-acceptance. The list goes on. And these fears made me want to shove myself in to this very small box of how I thought people wanted me to be. Except I forgot one person's opinion about who I should be: me.

My work life grew more structured, I grew more frustrated, I squeezed more in to the box, I got in to more trouble, I tried squeezing more in to the box, I grew even more frustrated. And all the while, the more worse it grew, the more I was bringing this home. Home, the one place I actually felt happy. Except I had changed my standards of happy. The emotional state I would have called happy years ago was much higher than the happy I accepted for myself now. In truth, comparably, I was miserable. I had committed one of the worst acts a person can do as they traverse the rocky road of life: I brought my work home with me. And even worse, since I had lowered my own standards, not only didn't I realize I was doing this, I had no clue how it was affecting everything around me.

Owa Ta Nas Iam. Say it, you'll get it.

I have no idea what the future holds, and that's the point. For the first time in a long time, I don't care. Because I have a beautiful wife who has more patience than humanly possible for being able to weather my years long stormy weather. I have an incredible daughter, who with every passing day grows more and more amazing, and whose laughter I could listen to forever. I own my own home, and while it's not the Taj Majal, it's my mine, and my families. It's more than shelter, more than concrete foundations and wood, it has metaphysical meaning as well. It's a tangible crucible of love, friendship, and many more.

And my family doesn't end there. I have a mother in law who loves me, perhaps even if I were her biological son. I have a father-in-law who appears to be pulling his life back together as well, albeit from a different direction. I have aunts and uncles who are nothing but loving and supporting. I have cousins who have always kept me grounded and humbled. I have half-brothers, while distanced, who would probably be there if I absolutely needed them. I even have great pets.

Basically, I have a great family. An awesome one. I had great parents, who unfortunately are no longer with us, but they're sure to be proud of me, and even prouder that after being knocked down, I'm getting back up, dusting off, and standing tall and defiant.

I am not defined by what I do. I am defined by who I am, by my relationships with those close to me. I am no longer afraid of what people who truly don't matter in the long run think of me. I'm not really afraid of what the people close to me think of me, either, but for them, at least I do care what they think of me, and caring doesn't equal fear.

I am me. And I'm going to be the best damn me there's ever been. Let the chips fall where they may. Hopefully, they fall in the right spots. But no matter what, forward ho, friends. Forward ho.

Humpday Haiku: Being Home Leads to No Blogging

Sorry, no updates

don't have much to say really

Jessie made me though.

Well, she did, sorta.

I Already Have a Funny Story

Cutest Thing Ever
Originally uploaded by bartraeke

So Jessie and I are talking about the transition from merconium (sp?) to regular poopies, and she mentions she was told that breast fed babies don't have stinky poos. I told her that all poop has some smell, it's only that the poop isn't as "HOLY CRAP THAT'S AWFUL" as solid food poop. But then I realized it was only a representation of a proud mother:

She already thinks her daughters shit don't stink. Heh.

World...

Meet Erin. Erin, meet the world. You guys get along okay now.

Born today, the 18th, at 12:26 pm. 7 lbs, 7 oz. The Queen is doing well. Your host is very giddy.

The Heiress has arrived. Now, the hard part begins. ;)

It's the Final Countdown...

We're leaving together...but still it's farewell...

Don't ask how and why I know the words to The Final Countdown, simply remember that I retain the stupidest info.

Anyway, for those of you astute enough to be paying attention to that little clock on the left, we're less than a week away from the due date. And while that term is on my brain, I'm officially declaring, as a semenatical bastard, that three pregnancy terms be changed. Due date, morning sickness, labor. Due date my ass. Guess date. Morning sickness? Whatever, it comes whenever. Call it pregnancy sickness. And labor? I know I'm Mr. "they're only words" but why give childbirth a name that everyone knows and associates with work? Our childbirth classes calls it birthing time, and I like that. Motion passes.

And by the way, not nearly enough of you used that damn donate button. Thanks bunches! :D

Anyway, we inch forward. Things haven't progressed here in the late stages exactly how we wanted, unfortunately. A little mild hypertension may put a monkey in our wrench (don't correct me, I like saying it like that). Blood work was all good, so I'm inclined to believe the higher than normal blood pressure is from the fact that Jessie is smaller than the average bear, and she's in that last stage where she's swelling up a bit in other places besides the tummy (hehe, tummy). But, even midwives are cautious when it comes to high blood pressure. So, we may have to make adjustments to the birth plan. Unfortunately again, we have no idea how yet, and probably wont, especially if it stays mild and the blood work keeps coming back good before birthing time. I know they'll be watching that BP like a hawk when she starts, though. My wife is also not a big fan of bedrest, which she's been on since Friday when the hypertension was first noted.

As a complete aside, I've been getting an inordinate amount of spam in my email spambox. I used to get about 5 a day. Now I'm up to like 90, and that's with me periodically cleaning it out, if only to make sure something doesn't get shuffled incorrectly to the spam. Plus, spam is making to my inbox, which hasn't happened in a loooooooong time. I've had to hit the "report spam" button a dozen times this week. The only thing I did lately was register my new camera with Sony, so if those bastards sold off my email address...grr.

Weighing In: There is NO secret!

First things first...Happy Birthday to the Queen. Taking her out to a nice dinner at Sakura, a Japanese steak house. Kind of like Benihana.

Anyway, another loss this week. Stop asking what my secret is, though, because there is no secret. Here's what I'm doing:

1) Drinking at least half my weight (in ounces) of water a day.

2) Loosely following the points (Flex) system of Weight Watchers. By that I mean I'm not keeping track of every last point, but I know basically what I'm eating here and there, and know when to take it easy or when I can "splurge" a little.

That's it. No more, no less. Now, on to this weeks results.

Starting weight (8/12/08): 221.4

Weight today (9/22/08): 196.8

Last week: 199.0

Difference from last weigh in: -2.2 lbs

Overall difference: 24.6 lbs

So, I Got The Creative Bug Friday...

And I asked my glowing wife if she wanted to do some impromptu portrait shots. To her credit, she agreed. I took what I thought were the best, and have set up this Flickr slideshow for your viewing pleasure:

Portraits of Jessie.

I'm kinda partial to when she spontaneously starting laughing at either something I said or did.

Okay, Less Cryptic This Time...Sorta.

I'm gonna be a father.

The reason for the general crypticness was it was really early then. It's still really early, actually. The Queen is only 8 weeks pregnant, so we can't even hear The Heir's heartbeat or anything yet. But we (well, she) had her first appointment today, and it seems like so far so good. Lots of "homework" to do, though. Forms and such.

We're leaning towards natural birth, or at the very least having a midwife attend Jessie at a hospital. I'm nearly infamous of my distaste for hospitals, and we watched a movie yesterday called "The Business of Being Born." Watch it if you are thinking about, going to have, or have had, children. Seriously. I already had my suspicions about "modern birthing techniques" especially the rationale of "why be in pain if you don't have to?" but there are some very scary things brought up about how, and why, certain things are done. The pitocin/epidural vicious circle issue for one, and the alarming amount of planned cesarean sections at this point in time.

Jessie's worried about the pain of labor of course, and I can't blame her. But I also think she's selling herself short. Our midwife (who is a guy...do you ever hear feminists complain about that?) seems to be wonderful and suggested a technique called Hypnobabies, which he thinks would work for her wonderfully. So I'm excited about that. But even without that sort of technique, I think she could "handle" the pain. Think about it. This race has been around for a pretty long time. Women have been doing pretty darn good. And what about all those countries without access to our so called modern birthing techniques? Some of the statistics brought up in the movie were eye opening. So yeah, given my distrust and distaste of hospitals in general, I'm supporting her in her original desire for natural childbirth, and acting sort of as a crutch for when she falters. Plus, our midwife told us they do have the ability to prescribe and administer a certain painkiller, so that also helped assuage her a bit as well.

Well, anyway, I'll keep you posted as we hear stuff and everything. Maybe Jessie will revitalize her blog as a pregnancy journal of sorts, that might be an idea for her, I don't know. Oh, and I am accepting handouts. I'm not shy about that. At all.

Our midwife put our due date (which of course has that two week pre/post window) at October 21st. I'll be finding a countdown clock in the near future and putting it up.