new home

so, it's been a while since i chatted on my blog. anyway, it looks like mary and i are going to buy a home! woo! i'll talk more about it later.

Things to Blog About

Geez, I need to find a way to remember all the great blog ideas that cross my mind everyday. If I had a piece of paper and a pencil, it would be no problem, but I think of them when I'm running, or when I'm half-way asleep. Hmm...

Wrist Bracelets

When we came home from the hospital after losing the baby, I clipped off Mary's in-patient wrist bracelets before putting her to bed for the night. Exhausted myself, I tossed them into my end table as I peeled off my clothes and crawled under the sheets. Ever since that night, those bracelts have stayed in my end table. It's not that I can't get rid of them, or that I'm keeping them as a memory of what we went through that night, it's just that the timing wasn't right.

This whole topic of Mary's wrist bracelets came about as I was running today. Typically, when I run, I let my mind wander to deeper issues. Sometimes I think about getting laid off and how awful that was. Other times, I muse over how I'm going to arrange my surround sound speakers to get the optimum performance out of them. However, as I rhythmicly breathed 1, 2, 3, 4, my thougts drifted to those bracelets. Why did I keep them in my end table? What good will come from having them? Aren't there better things to remember our first baby by, like her ultrasounds? I pondered these questions, trudging along in the afternoon heat, and slowly, like a runner slows as he approaches a busling intersection, the answers started coming.

For me, the bracelets represent an old way of thinking, one that is more simplistic and innocent. Even after the raw shearing of my reality that occured when I was released from employment in Pittsburgh, I still felt as though life would return to normal. More specifically, I believed that my expections of life would return to normal.

But, once the baby that was was no more, the darkness of sadness and grief fell heavily upon Mary and I like a wet, gray wool blanket, and something irrevokable changed in me. I didn't go crazy and start talking to apprations, nor did I lose all hope for the world; the change that occured within me revolved around my expectations of what life has in store. My belief that, by doing good, good would be done to me, fell to the ground slowly just as Mary's clipped braclets fell. My schema of the world around me shifted forever. And yet, I still wanted to hold onto something from before the time when the roof came crashing in.

Hence, the wirst bracelets. Although they are from a very dark and dreary time in my life, somehow, in some way, they represent the expectations I once held onto so dearly. And honestly, a small part of me may not be ready to give up on those out-of-print beliefs.

As I mulled these things over, the miles passed by quickly. Rounding the last bend to our apartment, I returned to the bracelets with two final questions: Should I get rid of them? And if so, when? My response was a simple one: Yes, but not yet. As time goes by, the wounds will heal and and the scabs will mysteriously disappear. Once all that is left are a few scars and some weighty opinions, I will most likely attempt to return to a more rosy schema of my life. When I am presented with that opportunity, I want to hold those bracelets as a father would hold his newborn daughter's hand, and says so soothingly and comfortingly, "It will be ok. Don't give up the good fight. Everything will be ok."

Will I believe myself? Perhaps. Will I act upon the hopeful reconciliation between what I want to beleive and what I have experienced? Most likely. And if I do reconsider my previous worldview, perphaps then, and only then, I can clip the bracelets around my heart, the ones that identify me as another patient in need of respite from the suffering experienced.

As I reach the door to our apartment complex, I realize that my run was now over, but the questions and thoughts revealed during that run will last well into the future. Not only are Mary's wrist bracelets in that end table, but maybe, if I look long and hard enough, I may find my own snipped bracelets alongside her's.

Deep Breaths

I'm not sure why life has been less than wonderful lately, but I have a few ideas.

My first idea revolves around the fact that I'm still soaking in the loss of our baby. As Mary can attest to, I handle stress in a very delayed way. While others may feel that rush of adreniline that will help them stay effective amid a very difficult situation, that ability to postpone the fear and irrationality only works so long. Usualy within thesame day, most people experience the realization of the negative consequences that occured/could have occured, and they work through that realization. As for me, the time that it takes me to process that realization can take days, and in this case, weeks. I never really broke down over the los of our baby and I'm not sure that I will, but I'm still going through the process of realizing that the life inside of Mary isn't going to make her feet ache or her stomach bulge because that life isn't there anymore. So, the fact that I'm still working through the loss of our baby is one idea why life hasn't bee so great recently.

Another idea why is that Mary and I are happy with where we are, but if we could be anywhere right now, it would be back in Pittsburgh. We had such a wonderful collection of friend and family there that it broke our hearts to have to leave them. On the bright side, we are quickly develping some new friends, and they are fantastic people. We're torn as a couple because we feel that our home is Pittsburgh, but we aren't going to head back that direction for many years. Perhaps the reason that I'm feeling less-than-stellar is because I'm working through the additional realization that I may not get to go "home" again. One day, I told Mary that I wished I had a little less responsibility and a little more freedom. Her reply was that it would be fantstic to have those things, but we both know that life doesn't work that way. I wonder how parents manage to remain mentally engaged while taking care of their kids and work, not to mention their faith, friends, family, hobbies, and such. So, this is another reason I'm seculating about.

My final idea regarding the way I'm feeling lately was brought to my attention by a great movie call, "The Hurt Locker". In this movie, an IED demonlition technician struggles with the realization that he doesn't enjoy many of the things he once did, and in fact, his only real job comes from deactivating deadly IEDs every day. Despite his extreme talent, that could be used back in the States, or his loving wife and child, the main actor's only real passion is to be 6 inches from enough C4 to create a 30-meter crater. How this relates to me is that I know that I've had to cut back on some of the things I used to enjoy, especially video games and electronics in general, because I have neither the time nor the finances to actively pursue these hobbies. In addition to these two categoires, I wonder what other areas I'll give up or lose interest in as I grow older. Photography? Computers? Animals? I always listed my family as a possible option, but I don't see that happening nor do I want to even contend with the idea that my love for my wife, or our families will disapate with time. However, what's my gurentte that I won't struggle with some of the same issues that the main character in The Hurt Locker did? My initial response is that I can combat these negative attitudes by actively seeking to save those acticitive and people that I cherrish.

Like I said, so many things to think about. Happily, one thing that keeps me postitive in this whole ordeal is that I'm looking forward to the day when I tell Mary, "Good job, Sweetie, keep pushing. Remember our lamaze classes: Deep Breaths!" Even though life can be tough at times, I hold the faith that Mary and I will one day soon be proud parents, but, just as Mary will need to use proper breathing techniques during the most difficult parts of the birthing process. I'm going to need to remember to do the same, in a metaphoric way, when I'm experience some of the hardes parts of my life, and having Mary by my side will make those parts much easier to bear. Just remember, Mike, deep breaths!"

Looking Up

Well, after a too-exciting few months, life seems to be returning back to normal. And thankfully, normal means periods of excitement followed by much needed breaks. Mary went away this weekend to a ladies retreat, so I had the opportunity to some quality time with the cats and me. I bummed around the house, ate horribly (and loved every minute of it), and fixed/installed as many things as I could without getting the cops called on me for a noise violation. Like I said, noting super exciting, but it's been such a long time since Life has been "mellow" that I couldn't have asked for a better weekend (sans Mary's absence) than what I experienced over the last few days. Good times. I'll write about more deep subjects soon, but I just wanted to share that life is starting to look better each day, and I am very happy about that forecast.

Windy Nights

There's something about a windy night that makes me feel safe. "Safe?" you may ask, "Why would you feel safe when the wind's howling like a hungry wolf, and the house creaks and squeaks as it gets ready to stand up after a long repose?" Well, barring the fact that you wouldn't probably use repose, you may wonder why, which is great because I'm about to explain.

Growing up, I loved to hear the wind whistle by. Wind almost always meant that some kind of precipitation would hitting our roof in the next few hours, be it snow, rain, hail, etc. And I loved precip! I loved the sensory experience of standing on a green, grassy lawn, my arms raised to my shoulders, head tilted back, eyes closed, mouth open, tounge out, as I tasted, smelled, felt, heard, and saw the precip falling towards me from 10s of thousands of feet above my head.

Hearing that wind as a child meant only one thing, and as a result, I've grown to love the sound of wind almost as much as what usually comes after. All that being said, when it's windy and Mary's nerviously looking outside for signs of tornadoes, I'm content to relax on the couch, head tilted back, eyes closed, as I imagine what wonderful weather might be coming my way.

Faking It Real

I started working out using P90X, which is famous for its "muscle confusion" approach. Muscle confusion is when a workout keeps the muscles from plateauing. The workout is great, but there is a slight problem with the DVDs I bought. You see, they were supposed to come from Montana, but once I ordered the P90X DVDs from Ebay, I got a confirmation that my order was shipping from China. No, not China, Montana, but China across the sea. As a result (and as you could guess), the P90X DVDs I received were counterfeits! Besides smelling like cheap ink and the obvious spelling mistakes, such as "Are Yoo Readyto Bring IT ?", the DVDs don't work!!! I can Kempo X all I want, but I've never been able to Plyometrics-it-up! Consequently, I called Ebay to complain, and request my money back. They happily obliged. However, I have to send back my pirated copy, which means that I am now P90X-less. Sad day. Well, at least I'll have the real thing in about 5-7 business days. Until then, I'm going to get fat! Hmm... Now, where did I leave that cookie dough?

Houston, We Have Contacts

Every since puberty hit, I've needed glasses. I remember the day when Dad said, with much chagrin, "Son, why are you squinting like a blinded deer?" Dad, the wise sage that he is, knew full-well that, as I sat 5 feet from the TV, trying to peer through my eyelashes as Troy Aikmen handed the ball off to Emitt Smith once again, that I needed glasses.

The following phrase uttered by my father is one that I will always remember because it meant that my way of life would change forever. I find it funny, now that I'm 28, thinking how such a simple sentence as, "Here, Son, try on my glasses and see if that helps", fell like a truckload of bricks upon my shoulders that day. It wasn't that I was afraid of seeing the world around me as I pushed Dad's black and gold bifocals back up to the bridge of my nose, I was afraid of the world around seeing me! As a pubescent boy, glasses were a pain. Not only would glass-ified kids have to worry about keeping their spectacles clean and in functioning order, but they also had to worry about other kids trying to dirty or destroy said spectacles. As you may have guessed, I survived that gloomy day when, despite my best wishes and greatest desires, my faith in a normal childhood did not maintain my sight. In fact, I believe I've done quite well considering my peepers needed persistent adjustments.

The whole topic of corrective lenses floated into my brain, much like a feather floats from a birds nest slowly down to the green, crabgrass lawn below, when I decided to start a workout regine called P90X. The way P90X works is by providing a workout schedule that constantly changes, well..., constantly changes after three weeks of consistency. By breaking up and rearranging the workout routines, the makers of P90X suggest that their product can maintain the "muslce confusion" that helps continually create more muscle mass, less body fat, and a robust "Bring It" attitude. Since this workout regine cost a decent amount of money to start, i.e. some really expensive DVDs with a variety of paper documentation and descretly hidden advertisements for other products sold by this company, I wanted to make sure that I got the most out of my workouts.

As I began to deligently sweat to to Tony Horton's first DVD , which included his witty humor and bulging biceps/triceps/calves/gluts/etc, my vision suddenly became blurry. Afraid that I was having a stroke, or perhaps just some well-placed sweat conduets, I reached up to wipe my brow and adjust my glasses. Lo and behold, as I performed my patiented hand/knuckle forehead wipe and glasses readjustment manuver, I discovered that my glasses were no longer on my face! Amid my huffing and puffing, I hadn't noticed that my glasses had paused their workout video for a drink of water on the floor, but hadn't had the curtesy to let the rest of my face know. Happily, they were not broken, and were soon reunited with some of my best features, or so Mary says. But, amid the few second panic that I experienced as I semi-blindly groped the floor for my spectices, I thought, "Houston, we have a problem!" However, unlike using ducttape and an assorted airfilter to fix the challenge at hand, I had a much easier fix. Contacts! Yup, I'm going to wear my contacts more often, especially when Tony Horton and I are doing a Kempo workout X-style. Who knew that here, in my living room so many hundreds of miles away from the living room where I first encountered the dreaded concept of corrective lenses, I would utter the same phrase I uttered when I realized that Dad's glasses did help my vision: Oh Crap.

My Minority Report

It's interesting being off from work today. Usually, I'm surrounded by people my age, education, and typically, my gender. Since I have more freedom to have additional days off since I'm with the State, I've had the opportunity to do some shopping, eat some food, and sip some coffee when most of the Sioux Falls workforce are earning their paychecks. For example, Mary and I are at Scooter's, which is a great coffee house near the church we attend. Mary and I usually come here in the evenings and weekends, and at that time, the patrons here are the typical bunch: college students, friends catching up, and families getting a less-expensive reprieve from the trial and tribulations of life at home. However, the patrons today are a very different bunch. There are at least 3 flocks of giggling ladies, talking away about their kids, husbands, and friends without worrying about Billy sticking his finger in a light socket or Sally screaming for attention. There's a variety of college students, as usual, but there is also a large contingency of business people conducting their work over two Toffee Nut Lattes.

When we lived in PA, Mary and I never felt like we stood out; in fact, we loved the fact that we could disappear into a crowd or hunker-down into a corner at Crazy Mocha and laugh at each other until our lungs hurt. Yet, here in Sioux Falls, there is not "disappearing", no goofing off without fear of someone we know wondering what the heck we are doing laughing so loud the people around us have to turn up the volume on their iTouch's to hear the lyrics. I think that's one thing about living here that will take some getting used to, especially since Mary and I are in a little different situation than we were in while staying in PA: we are visible. We are visible just like the gaggles of ladies, and the studious college kids are here at Scooters. Just like I'm here at a different part of the day than I usually am, Mary and I have entered Sioux Falls at a different part of our lives than we were used to while in PA. It's that difference that keeps throwing me off every once and a while. It's the situation that we are in that has changed, and as a result, we must adapt to that change, i.e. remember that we are more visible. Usually, I'm the majority, but as I type my report on life's happenings, I'm starting to realize that here, in Sioux Falls, and especially during the day, I'm part of the minority, not the majority.

The Holiday Armadillo

Mary and I are watching Friends, and it's the one where Ross dresses up as an Armadillo for his son, Ben, because all the other Christmas-related suits are taken (and an Armadillo is Christmas-esque?). What ends up happening is that Chandler and Joey try and help out by dressing up as Santa and Superman. Hehe. Good times!

It's funny how life turns out. Two months ago, Mary and I were just heading into Sioux Falls after a wild adventure crossing the eastern states. Since that time, I've started a great new job, Mary and I have celebrated our 4th anniversary, we've met and befriended a variety of wonderful people, and we've struggled through a heart-breaking miscarriage. Oof! So many great and awful things have happened recently that I can't wait until I can have a little down time. My favorite saying currently is, "I'm looking forward to having some boring time." And it's true, I'm looking forward to having life slow down because I'm ready for a mental reprieve.

So, that being said, I'm excited to start this blog, and hopefully, it will go in tandem with my newly-encountered relaxation time. :)