Are Feelings Actions?

Hot on the heels of a terrible row with one of my close friends (and I'll tell you right now, it's all been fixed and tidied up and we're both fine), I've gone introspective again by questioning what truly constitutes 'action'.

To give you a little perspective of what I'm talking about, the fight was about him not wanting to have to censor his words, and me not wanting to have to censor my feelings. My stand, for sometime now, was very pragmatic about emotions, especially since I have a temper and calling me "emotional" would be an understatement. I basically adhere to "judge a person by his actions, and not his thoughts", with thoughts not being limited to the cerebral but to the emotional, and the actions coming to include hurtful words that are spoken out of spite.

It's because of this code that I've always felt guilty about losing my temper - I turn nasty and sarcastically succinct not caring about the other's feelings - and why, especially for my loved ones, I tend to shy away from confrontations (as opposed to with people I care less about where I'm slightly [okay, more than slightly] more aggressive). I need to time to calm down, to think about why I'm upset, to differentiate whether or not I'm overreacting, to arrange my thoughts and pinpoint what exactly bothered me and, if I'm still bothered, to find a way to say these things without being hurtful. Unfortunately, I'm also a terrible liar and I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. So when I'm bothered by something in public - bar me walking out - I tend to be obvious about it.

Which got me to my current introspective dilemma now. My close friends (and even to some extent my husband) have been subtly hinting that I should be more open about my feelings, to confront them and not to be afraid to them, to tell people outright when I feel like I'm being offended or hurt so as to prevent escalation. Some of them even had stated that they prefer the hurtful words over the awkward silences wherein I would ensconce myself in my own turbulent thoughts, letting them to be unwilling witnesses to my despair.

But how can I stop the way I feel? How do people learn not to get hurt? And yet, despite this, I do see their point. When you see someone you love feel bad, you want to do something about it. And the very inaction of the loved-one-who-feels-bad could cause you tremendous pain or, at the very least, incredible discomfort. Should I really subject my friends to that just because I need some time to calm down? Should I start thinking that my emotions, by virtue of being felt and because it is so obvious, is an action in itself?

And if it is, does that mean my obvious solution is to become a better actress, to learn to hide my discomfort and my distress behind a more comprehensive mask?

For my close friend and I, we've come to a compromise about what we should do when something similar happens without compromising who we intrinsically are (because it would be a tragedy if you're not yourself with your friends). Only time will tell if it will work - if I will remember the code words and be calm enough to say them, and if he will remember the code words and remain calm enough to give me space until I can state my reasons.

But for the rest of my friends and family - what do I do?

What do I do?

What's in a Name?

Apparently, a lot. Of hard work, that is.

Especially if you're female and you got married and you have a ton of licenses, bank documents and the like that are in your maiden name.

What's worse, is that no one actually tells you and prepares you for this stress. Either by conspiracy of revenge or simple forgetfulness, my mother, my husband's mother, everyone's mother or wife, while always ready to spout wedding and marriage advice in the early days of my wedding preparations, neglected to tell me how difficult it would be to change my maiden name to my married name. So now, two years and some odd months later, I'm still dealing with the stress of changing expired licences and insurance documents etc.

It has pushed me to even keep my maiden name with a dash to help avoid even more paper work. Its not that I'm trying to assert my feminist side, and sadly, its not even that I'm trying to sort of rebel against the age old (and admittedly chauvinistic) tradition of losing one's maiden name for a husband's last name. I'm a feminist, but I'm not that much of a feminist that I'd be willing to go through the inconvenience of always having to type (and more annoyingly, print) four more letters and a dash to my last name (as if doing so will change how people would treat you, gender wise, which, ya know, is what truly matters to me).

But still, the paperwork haunts me. Don't they understand I got married? Why can't they just accept my photocopy of a wedding certificate (authenticated by the NSO, no less)? Why do I have to file millions of paperwork? Why do I have to file the millions of paperwork in their hard to reach head quarters and not in their more convenient satellite offices? Why can't bank systems simply allow me to put a dash in my maiden name and my last name (I can't even begin to tell you how stupid some of their reasons for not allowing me to do so, beginning with their system doesn't accept dashes in the last name)? Do all recently married women go through this or did I miss some special seminar that tells you the most efficient way to survive the name changing process?

Ugh. Times like these, I wish I just didn't have to go through my birthday.

Turning 28 and Other Stories

Twenty Eight

One more day 'till my birthday.

Unlike previous years when I would look forward to my birthday with about the same excitement as a four year old, I feel decidedly more calm about the event this year. I think I'm getting old - I just can't get myself to even hope that the world will all stop to give me a day to remember. Or, it could be that I'm just pregnant, and every event until the big event in July pales in contrast.

If anything, I'd just be happy to get through tomorrow without any nasty complications from my pregnancy. I don't really expect anything to be significantly different tomorrow (I will have lunch with my parents and then litcrit and then dinner [hopefully] in dampa) and all I can hope for is that everything goes smoothly.

Other Stories

Two stories in the news troubled me. One was about the Jersey Children's Abuse Scandal (read here) and the other about the re-use of syringes in hospitals (read here).

The first, troubled me because it feels so much like the young adult horror stories I've read and watched, only this time, it's all too real. Unlike books and movies where I could comfort myself that its all exaggerated, this proves that such places does exist, and people do suffer in cellars and attics, perhaps even shackled and raped. And the fact that they're children, makes it worse.

As for the other one, it troubled me because I didn't even know that re-use of syringes still existed in modern times. Knowing that i would soon be confined for the delivery of my child (and knowing that I'm terribly frightened of needles and such, can't be trusted to actually look when the nurses supposedly open them up to be used) only magnifies my fears.

Oh well, just goes to show how pregnant women can get extremely morbid with the slightest provocation.

Our New Baby

Believe it or not, this ain't a post about pregnancy. Instead, this is a post about the newest addition to our little family, weighing in at around a pound and costing my husband (the most wonderful, incredible man in the world who loved me enough to give it to me for my 2007 gift) around Php31k: the new Nikon Dx40 SLR camera!

I've always been interested in photography. Which is ironic, because 1 - I myself, don't photograph well (it takes a certain alignment of stars or a total eclipse to ensure I get a good shot) and 2 - I have awful eyesight (which is getting worse recently, but of course, I refuse to take any reasonable action such as getting eyeglasses - heaven forbid! - for it). As a child, I've found it fascinating to see those "art" shots that show images of mundane things made more marvelous by trick of shadow and light.

I've always thought that once I was old enough to own my own SLR camera, I would take pictures of the same mundane things that had fascinated me in my youth (in particular, and not a lot of people know this, I have a rather morbid fascination with trees - wet trees, dark trees, trees with complicated branches that sink so low to the ground before thrusting upwards - almost as if it were redeemed - to the sky). Lo and behold, my interest took a slightly different route when I saw a documentary of this Korean female monk where they showed still images of her just thinking, or walking or simply staring straight in the camera that somehow gave the viewers an insight to her thoughts, to her personality, a glimpse of her charisma.

I never knew a human face - and I mean a normal human face, not the overly made up supermodel types - could be so interesting. And so I decided that what I wanted most for 2007 (aside from the child of course) was an SLR camera. Dean of course was there to caution me about how photography could take years to master just so you can take a simply face shot and make it marvelous, but though my mind agreed with him wholeheartedly, my heart just wanted to take pictures and believe that somehow - formal training be damned - I can someday come close to those still images of the Korean female monk in that documentary.

The wonderful thing about my marriage is that my husband also shares my interest in photography, although with slight differences. He, I believe, is more interested in the technicalities of getting a great shot - changing colors, adding blue or red pigments to the picture, making sure the composition is right, cropping and cleaning out images - whereas I just want to capture the moment on digital film.

Between you, me and the rest of the world, I think he has a better chance of becoming a great photographer, as he's actually interested in learning how photography works, while I'm just waiting for a certain alignment of stars or a total eclipse to get my shot. Despite this, however, its great to know I have someone to share my interest in, someone to learn it with and most of all, someone to take pictures of when all other models and muses have given up with my long wait for brilliance.

Here's some of my practice shots with our new camera (of course, with my favorite person in the world):

Big News

Last night I just found out that my best friend (will keep her anonymous for now, until she announces it herself) was also pregnant. Around two months behind me, in fact. Aside from the customary delight (and I have to admit, relief, because at least now, I'm no longer the only reason why my smoker friends can't smoke, lol), I'm truly excited just thinking of how cool it would be for our kids to grow up with each other.

Growing up as an only child for eleven years was undeniably lonely, especially since I literally grew up alone (no nearby cousins and such) for the first five years of it. I didn't know how to interact with the other kids and had to learn the hard way how to deal with interpersonal relationships that would, at least I feel, come easier for someone who had somebody else their age when they were growing up. While my best friend's baby is not exactly a sibling, I feel interaction with someone so close to my child's age would be extremely beneficial, helping my child navigate easier the wild landscape of his/her childhood.

Of course, I know that I'm getting ahead of myself. Of the many things that could go wrong with my little fantasy of our children becoming the best of friends, there's the more mundane concern that their personalities will not mesh and they'll simply not like each other. Or, something more extreme and more frightening would be what if one if not both of our children are unhealthy (and for any expectant mom, this is one of the primary concerns).

But right now, I can dream and it's good to have my mind occupied with something else besides coffee cravings and work. And I can pray, and hope that everything turns out well.

Congratulations best friend! Apparently, 2008 is a big year for us in more ways than one. :)

Going on 15

Weeks that is. At least in terms of pregnancy.

Which means that my first trimester is officially over, although, unofficially, the nausea still bothers me every now and then, granted it is no longer to the extent that I would actually throw up blood. So far, the pregnancy has been both worse and better than I expected. But while there are a lot of things I still miss (and will continue to miss until the baby is born) things are definitely looking up.

At 14 weeks and 5 days, here is my pregnancy update:

What I miss...

1) Obviously, the game, which, because four out of the six people involved (including God himself) are smokers, is just a big no-no for me in my condition right now. Just this week, Andrew created the digital art for our characters and it made me feel both proud (hey, I didn't know my character and my shard was that pretty!) and sad (I really do miss gaming).

Art courtesy of Andrew Drilon (I hope I'm not committing some social, grievous mistake by posting something a friend of mine did for the game, but I just felt Andrew did such a terrific job at making these masterpieces that I can't help but blog about it. )

2) Coffee. Once upon a time, I fell in love with Mocha Java (from Great Taste) and I thought that love was reciprocated. Through the years however, Mocha Java became more distant with me and became less and less available. Until one day, Mocha Java just simply disappeared. For awhile, I was lost. Somehow, I picked up the pieces, got involved with Coffee House's Cappuccino and I thought I had moved on. And then I found out I was pregnant. And then, Mocha Java came back. And then my doctor said I can't have coffee.

It's a sad, sad world, I tell you.

3) My friends. Though they've been bending over backward to accommodate my suddenly healthy lifestyle, it's just not the same hanging out with your smoker friends knowing they will start to fidget in an hour or so, trying to compensate for the non-existent cigarette in their mouths by eating candies by the boxes. And while I know that they all love me (and my husband) to bits, I sometimes don't know anymore if we've (hubby and I) have over-extended our welcome by staying too late when every minute I'm there, I'm essentially depriving them with something they arguably need more than water. So now I feel we're caught in the awkward stage - I'm trying to be polite and trying not to inconvenience them too much but at the cost of not spending as much time with them as I am used to. The real tragedy here is that my husband, great guy that he is, has decided to stay with me when, the truth of it is, he could actually spend time with them, game with them, do stuff with them (albeit without me) because he is not bound by the no-smoke-shall-reach-thy-nostril rule.

What's Great About 14 onwards....

1) The nausea and heartburn has let up. I know I've been whining about this incessantly, but the all consuming nausea and heartburn (made worse that I'm actually hyper acidic even prior to my pregnancy) had been so bad that I just wanted to crawl into a blanket and stay there forever. What's worse, when I did walk around, I hardly had any sense of fashion, my hair was a mess and I was pale with hormonal zits all over my face, making my already battered self esteem plummet even further down the depths of nauseating despair. All these made me walk slower and with a slouch, face down (you should ask Alex when you see him about how I walked, he does a pretty hilarious impersonation if I do say so myself). Now, either I've gotten used to my pale, hormonal zitted face, but I think I've started to look better. And while I'm not exactly skipping towards a rainbow, I'm actually walking at more or less normal pace towards some destination. And of course, I've started to actually comb my hair.

2) My breasts have grown from a 36 to a 40. And while this was not actually an occurrence that strictly happened in my 14th week, I am beginning to see the fashionable opportunities with increased breast size. I'd be deliriously happy if I go down to a 38 after the pregnancy, but friends have said this is not that case. Oh well, enjoy them while I have them.

3) My belly is now a pregnancy belly. Prior to this, I keep inspecting my stomach and instead of seeing an unborn child, I just keep seeing the donuts I shouldn't have eaten at lunch time. I didn't look pregnant, just, well, fat. Now, it definitely looks like a pregnancy belly so that people actually look at you and say Congratulations, instead of trying to hide the "Oh-my-god-she's-grown-fat" look from their eyes.

What I'm thankful for...

1) My husband. Through out the horror of my existence in December, he has been funny and patient and kind and firm and mean and persuasive and determined and optimistic when he needed to be. Even now, he takes such great care of me, that I often feel that I'm letting him down when I can't help but throw up. He's been wonderful and wonderful. I don't know what I did to deserve a husband like him.

2) I didn't actually lose my temper as much as I thought I would. In fact, a lot of people have voiced their fears to both me and Alex about my mood swings, thinking, not without basis, that I was a fairly temperamental person to begin with, baby or no baby. But the sudden bouts of illogical anger or even tantrums did not occur. The only times I got angry with Alex, in fact, was when he, upon sensing that something is wrong with me, would badger me with questions when all I want to do is sit still, not move, not speak, just letting the pain die down. In those instances, I get so annoyed that I actually get enough adrenalin to lose my temper and tell him to leave me alone before I crawl back to my own pocket of despair. But those instances were rare. For the most part, we hardly had any fights nor arguments, to a point I'm actually beginning to miss them. Alex says not to worry though. He thinks its just the nausea that keeps me too tired to be temperamental and that soon in the second trime, we'll both be back to normal.

3) Jelly Tongue and Crushed Ice and Plasil. All of which are used to keep me from throwing up. The Jelly Tongue in particular, a frozen apple flavored gelatin available in most stores, has the added benefit of tinting lips a delicious color of red, which would have been useful for my self esteem had I the skill to apply it more evenly.

So that's it. Supposedly, this second trimester is the best three months I'll get during the pregnancy, so here's to hoping.

And to all my patient friends, Mocha Java and beloved characters, I'm almost back.

I'm almost back.

The Baby Moves!

Today was supposed to be a bad day. First of all, it's Friday (and recently, Fridays have become depressing for me since hubby and I no longer do what we usually do on Fridays, but that's another story); second, the week had been so horrible in the nausea and throwing up front that last night, I was actually vomiting blood (which is, thankfully, just gross and not life threatening); third, there's tons of work to do and yet despite those, I have to take the entire morning off to go see the doctor for my monthly check up.

The morning itself did not start well. I could hardly force myself to eat, I was nauseous, I had no energy and all through out Alex was hurrying me (and pushing me) so that we could actually meet our doctor's appointment. The night before, I barely had enough good sleep with my stomach churning and churning so by the time we got to the hospital, I was already tired.

And then I had my ultrasound. And I saw it - the most wonderful thing in the world. Our baby moved! (And, well, kept moving - according to the doctor, malikot ang bata.) Alex had this big smile on his face, and I was near tears. The last time we saw our baby, he/she was just a tiny (unmoving) blob. Now, the child has limbs (which he/she uses to propel himself into various positions) and looks more like a baby than a fetus. It was such a great moment, that hearing the child's heartbeat an hour later, seemed anti-climactic.

Just remembering how the baby moved in the ultra sound, makes me want to break into song - never mind that I'm still nauseous.

It's a great way to start 2008.