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Below are the 25 most recent journal entries.

	2009.08.20  06.42 psychology, kids, yoga, and snow storms. Does everyone have so much trouble figuring out what they want to do in life? I remember as a child going through a few different phases of "what I wanted to be when I grew up" as I think every average child does. First it was an artist, then for the longest time, I wanted to be an actress until the day that my father told me that I wasn't good enough and would never make it in Hollywood. I was only thirteen. When I was in high school I took an advanced placement psychology class for fun with no intentions on taking the exam to get college credit. I was always interested in psychology ever since I was little because my mother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and paranoid schizotypal symptoms when I was about five. I had to live through the "abnormal" psychology of my mother for years, and still do, today. As a senior in high school, I took an environmental physics class that I absolutely fell in love with. We designed our own energy efficient house and did an extra credit project where the whole class camped outside in someone's backyard in the middle of winter with no external heat sources as a real-life application of the thermodynamics of clothing. It snowed more than two feet that night. I don't think I slept the whole night I was so freezing! So, in college when I had to pick a major as an in-coming freshman, I chose environmental science. I had always been a lover of nature, and adored learning about environmental influences and the such in my class in high school. My advisor, seeing my good grades (which were mostly natural ability and interest with the lack of any conventional studying) and signed me up for calculus, chemistry, and biology (and two other classes) all in my first semester. I did horribly, needless to say, panicked, saw a guidance counselor to learn HOW to study, and managed to barely pull myself through that first semester. As one can imagine, out of straight-up fear, I switched my major to "undecided". It wasn't until my sophomore year when I chose to major in psychology. I needed to make a decision, really had no idea what I wanted to do, but knew I had always loved and enjoyed the subject. I did very well for the rest of college, getting mostly A's and graduated in 2005 with a bachelor's degree in psychology. Now what? I couldn't find work, but knew that I also enjoyed being around children. I'm not sure when this transition occurred. I didn't always love being around children. Some time in college I realized I liked little kids. So, naturally, in need of work, I found myself employed for $8 an hour at a daycare. Later on I decided to go back to school full-time for my master's degree in early childhood education and left my position at the daycare to nanny. Now, I have my master's degree in early childhood education and am once again, employed full-time at a daycare, although this time I make more than $8 (thank god). However, with a master's degree in ECE, I feel as though I should do something other than take care of screaming children day in day out in a place where only a CDA or associate's degree is required. This is my dilemma. I don't really know what I want to do. Originally, my plan was to become Montessori certified, and then the timing of classes didn't coincide with my ability to bring income home, so I let that dream drift away. I applied for an assistant director position and didn't get it. And now, I'm stuck in limbo... what's next? Truth is, I know EXACTLY what I want to do... it's just that it's not possible. I've never really wanted to be a career woman. I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, who maybe worked two or three days a week at some job and joined clubs and brought my kids to special activities and was very active in the community doing PTA meetings and volunteering to do community service. That is my dream. Will I get it? Probably not.. at least right now. So.... In October I am starting an Anusara yoga Immersion. There are three parts, totalling 105 hours. This will help me learn more about Anusara, and then I have to complete 200 hours total, of Anusara classes in order to become a certified teacher. Yoga is one of the only things I can see myself enjoying as a profession. If you are someone who has made yoga a part of your life, then you'll understand. It's doing what you love for work, if you are teaching it. This is going to take some time, however. And as many have already told me, you can't make a living off of being a yoga instructor. That leads me back to my original quest.... what now?

	2009.07.01  09.06 The beauty of simplicity I used to have a daily writing practice. In college, mostly when I lived in Hilltop Apartments, I would wake up and write every morning before going to classes, work, etc. When I wrote daily, it helped my mind to feel more at ease; also, I felt like I better understood myself and the things going on around me because I had time every day to transcribe the jumbled mess inside my head. To organize it and create patterns of thought. To be insightful, even. Or, sometimes, just be creative. Nowadays, I am rushed through the day. I push snooze until I have just enough time to sip some coffee, dress, check my email, and make my lunch. Sometimes I don't even have time to do that. I live with someone else, so their things are all around the apartment, mingling with mine in obvious disarray. The constant upkeep and piling up of things has made my mind cloudy and dim. There is not a lot of room for the creative spark of life, let alone the time for it. However, on this morning I have some extra time. Albeit, I had to come into the haven of the bedroom to escape the loving, frisky claws of my new kitten, Zen, so I could write without constant disruption. Speaking of which, they, being my two cats, are exactly why I wanted to write this morning. Last Friday, my boyfriend brought home two kittens: one boy and one girl. As I walked in the door after an extremely long, stormy day, my heart melted in an instant. I was rapt. All it took was a milisecond and fell in love with two scared, skittish furballs with hazel eyes. We decided to name then Zen and Aum. Zen is the boy and Aum is the girl. For those of you who don't know the origins of their names, Zen is a Buddhist terminology, meaning, simply that enlightenment can come through meditation rather than faith alone. Aum is the female, and her name, also spelled Om, is the Hindu symbol of the Absolute. It is said to be the vibration of the universe. These may not seem like particularly fitting names for two frisky kitties, however, the way they make me feel inside every time I wake up and walk out of the bedroom in the morning or the first time Zen sat on my lap... that is much like their names. The way they look when they are sleeping, the way they find pure, simple joy in batting around a ball or taking a nap. The innocent clumsiness of their playfulness. The love that wells up inside of me for two living things: this is zen and all of it is om. Although I am hiding out in my bedroom right now so I can write this, it does not mean I dislike their presence or affection; I just need a break once in awhile, so I can still be alone. Knowing they are there, in the next room makes all the difference. It has changed who I am from wake to sleep, because my thoughts include their well-being, love and affection, and happiness and bliss from touching their smooth noses, hearing Zen's purr, seeing Aum's pretty eyes start to slowly close when she gets sleepy, and dealing with the more unpleasant parts of ownership like constant maintenance of the litter box, claw marks, disciplining, and the unceasing worry about their health and happiness. In all the chaos and whirlwind there is peace. Their names are Zen and Aum.

	2009.06.22  07.05 writing time I usually wait until 5 minutes before I need to leave for work to decide that I feel like writing, so today, although I have nothing to write about, I am writing with plenty of time to spare. Some things have been concerning me about this summer: 1) the weather, I mean, WTH 2) my job... I already had my vacation and the thought of dragging myself to work one more day is unbearable 3) to get kitties... to not get kitties? Jesse and I have both been moody. Yesterday was actually one of the best days we've spent together in a long time, and for some reason both of us feel utterly useless and depressed today. It started seeping in last night like an unwanted cold... first you feel the mild congestion, and before you know it you can't breathe and you're shooting snot rockets. I've come to the unfortunate realization that I don't really want to be employed. Ah, how nice it would be to just be.. unemployed. Not lazy or poor, just unemployed because Jesse makes enough. Ha! That is one of the main reasons getting pregnant is such a scary thought to me. I am almost ready to have children, but first, I want to be married, and secondly, we can't afford a baby. Those little buggers are costly. And speaking of babies and costly, we had decided we were going to get kittens, and recently have sort of backed away from the decision, concluding that it would be an added expense, and we would have to risk ruining our apartment, because kittens like to scratch stuff. Not to mention cat fur everywhere. I am torn on this, because I agree with all things aforementioned, however, I looooove kitties and want to have something to love and dote on. Something I have been putting off because I was waiting until I got back from FL (which I have now been back for over a week), is looking for a new job. I think it is something I should start doing. I am obviously sick of the one I have. I was amazed that I hadn't gotten to the point yet where I find it hard to drag myself out of bed to make it there, because usually that happens around a year after employment. I've been at B.H. for about a year and a half and am really just starting to get really itchy about it. Honestly, I think another vacation would help alleviate some of my disgruntledness. And onto other news, I have a mountain of laundry that is impressive-- when do people have the time/money to do laundry when they are living in an apartment? We've concluded that we have to either do it at my parents' (whose machine is half-broken, so we can only do small loads) or we have to go to a laundromat, because there is SO much laundry that doing it at the apartment would literally cost like 15 dollars, and the clothes would all be half-dried. Last night Jesse asked me if I had still been writing in my gratitude journal (for those of you who don't know, it is a journal where I write 3 things I am grateful for every day before bed). I told him it had probably been a month or so since I had written in it... is there a correlation with my recent grumpiness and inability to accept reality and my lack of gratitude? If anything, I should be happy... I have had a really good beginning to summer. I went on a great vacation with Jesse, and I have been very active and social almost every day since the new neighbors moved in. That is what I always wanted since we moved here, a friend we could hang out with that lived in the complex. I miss that dorm/college feeling, where friends and people were scattered everywhere and you could see them almost as easy as it was to open your own front door. It's nice to have a taste of that again. Some good news is that Jesse has finally decided that he wants to start coming to yoga with me on Sundays... ALSO, I think we may have convinced my parents to give it a try!! That will be an amusing day. I think it is finally time to sign off and make my lunch. I don't know why, but it is extremely difficult for me to make my lunches in the morning (or even the night before). I hate doing it, especially if it involves work, like I have to put food in containers or make a sandwich. Maybe I should hire someone to make my lunches for me... I am always amazed by people who can set up their outfits for the next day the night before, take a shower every morning, apply make-up, work-out, eat breakfast, make their lunch and be out the door. It is hard enough for me to drag myself out of bed, after having pressed snooze for a half hour and getting a reminder call from Jesse that it is time to get up. How come some people are that full of life that they are so compelled and motivated to do these little things? Is something wrong with me?

	2009.04.16  07.57 A Long Life Last Monday, April 6, 2009 my Nana passed away. She was my last grandparent alive and had survived her husband by 19 years. At first, I was fine. I was expecting her death for a little over a month, since she had gone to the emergency room on my birthday in March for what appears to have been a minor stroke. We went to visit her for her birthday at the Governor's House in Simsbury. Cara and I brought her a card that sings when you open it, and although she looked nothing like her former self, she still had enough energy to swivel her hips and arms in an attempt to dance (one of her very favorite things to do). I have noticed over the past few years that I've distanced myself from my Nana. Oh, I loved her dearly, and always was glad after I worked up the energy to visit her, or be forced into taking her to her hair appointments. But, it was easier for me to stay consumed in my daily life activities with friends, work, and children-- things that did not show evidence of delicate fraying. Watching my Nana slowly morph from vivacious and garrulous to ambivalent and forgetful is not easy for a grand-daughter. When she passed last week, I took some time off from work to attend the wake and funeral, both of which I was dreading because I had not been to a wake in a long time and I had not been to a funeral since my Pop-Pop died 19 years ago. Since I was expecting her death, it wasn't that hard for me to accept when it finally occurred. I cried a little, but hardly. I went to the wake, and as I first stood there with my father and step-mom the tears started to blur my vision, but I stopped myself. Seeing her lifelessly posed in the light pink fabric of her coffin was surreal. I kept imagining that her chest was rising and falling. Her face didn't look like her face. The one thought that kept coming back to me over and over again was, That was the cheek that I kissed twice three days ago as I told her good-bye for the final time. And then the other thought: This is the last time I am ever going to see my Nana. The rest of the evening and the following day in Queens were spent laughing and reminiscing about my Nana's life. It was wonderful to spend time with my family and learn things about my grandmother that I never knew. When we got to the cemetery, I found out that half of my family is buried there. My Nana's mother, two of her sisters, her husband, my mom's father and grandmother, my dad's grandfather (or Pop-Pop's dad)... and the only grave I got to visit was my Great grandmother's: Nana's mother. I didn't get to see my Nana's coffin get lowered on top of my Pop-Pop's; I didn't get to visit HIS grave, which I really wanted to do... I felt a little ill at ease when we left the cemetery. On the way home we drove through College Point, where my dad showed me familiar parts of his youth: his high school, where my Nana went to grammar school, the factory she worked at when she met Pop-Pop, their old house, which I remembered, my mom's grandmother's house, which I also remembered, and my great-grandfather's house-- all of which were blocks away from one another. He showed me where the World Fair was held ever year-- the last year it was held was in 1965. He showed me the grassy fields where he used to shoot off rockets when he was a boy, and the place where the sewers were that he used to play in. He even showed me the street he used to walk down after school to meet his old girlfriend-- before my mom. That night, I wanted to remember my Nana in a happy way, so I popped in a dvd my dad had made me for Christmas a few years ago-- it is a dvd set of all of the old 8mm movies (the ones without sound). I sat in the darkness as the sound of film passing through the camera continuously streamed and sped-up actions of my Nana, Pop-Pop, and father as a child danced across the screen. Her life seemed so joyous, so care-free. Most of the films are of her and her friends and relatives sitting in the backyard dancing and waving to the camera. My dad is playing the accordian, whose melodies will forever be lost, and my Nana is seen in nubile perfection, swinging on swing-set. The tears suddenly poured out of me like an unexpected thunderstorm. Cathartic though it was, I have been depressed for days. What was the sudden change? I wanted my grand-parents back. I so desperately wanted to be six years old again, and hear the loud smacking of my Nana's lips on my cheeks when she said hello and goodbye, telling me my skin tasted like strawberries. I wanted to smell my Pop-Pop's pipe on his breath and sit in his lap. I wanted the impossible. I've been dreaming about my Nana almost every night since. I suppose these are normal reactions to death, but what really gets to me is that she was there for my whole life and I was only at the tail-end of hers. When she looked back on her life, she had almost 70 years of memories that had nothing to do with me. I want to know and hold onto this person. This youthful image of my grandmother. This is why I've decided that I am going to write an account of my family history. Once my mom and dad are gone, the stories will forever be erased. As it is, there are already memories that are forever gone, because I never had the foresight to write them down as my Nana told them to me years ago. I have this sudden urgency to transcribe and record as much as I can about my family history. I need to hold onto it for it comforts me, but it also makes me who I am. I have been looking at a lot of old photographs of my grandparents and family members. Although I don't look like my Nana at all (she was 100% Irish), I realized that my Pop-Pop's features are smattered all throughout my face. The nose I once detested from a certain angle, I have found to love, because I realized it is my Pop-Pop's nose from that angle. One living piece of him, I can hold onto. Pieces I can pass down to keep my relatives alive. Their dna surviving for centuries.

	2009.03.01  11.57 Happiness is... (the sequel) On March 31st, 2006, I wrote a blog post titled Happiness is.... Upon stumbling across it, I thought it would be fun to write a new one. Happiness is... A hot cup of coffee and some quiet time on a Sunday morning Buying a new book Picking wildflowers Being with friends Having no one tell me what to do Hearing a song you really want to hear come on the radio Yoga A loving embrace A hot shower Knowledge that summer is around the corner... Music: none

	2009.02.28  10.37 The Goddess of Love From my position on the futon, I can see a small slither of sunlight laying on the carpet in the bedroom, where the door is ajar. It is quiet in the apartment. Only the sound of the refrigerator running and my fingers tapping on the keyboard are present. The little stripe of light has slowly migrated across the carpet, so that it is almost out of sight, now. It reminds me of my childhood. We have this large window in our living room at my dad's house and in the early morning light would pour in and paint the dark brown carpet a luminescent shade of glittering gold. As I watched my morning cartoons, I used to bath, quite literally, in the rays of sun, splaying myself out in the pool of light, soaking in the heat. There are few places in my apartment where the sunlight creates patterns such as this one. The bedroom window captures the early morning sunlight since it faces east, and the shades are mostly drawn. That is why just this small, promising crack of light has made its way into our concealed bedroom. Although nostalgic for that memory of my youth, the quickly disappearing stripe of light reminds me of myself. Over the past few months, I have disappeared and reappeared; my energy has waxed and waned. I have inconsistently been alive. Prying into the world, like a glimmer of hope, I have tried to survive in what has felt like dark disparity. Yesterday, I felt the most energetic I have felt in probably a year, at least, and was in amazement of how great it felt to get things done like I used to be able to do. I found out later, that the moon and Venus were aligned, where Venus was at its maximum brightness. Apparently, if you believe in astrology, this occurrence means that there is a heightened sense of energy present. I'm not sure why this is so, I'm no expert and usually do not rely on astrology as an answer. But I found that to be a convenient coincidence. Little by little, whether or not the planets or the divine have played a role, I have gently coaxed myself out of a long slumber. I feel warm inside and shiny, like a small ray of hope has been cast through the dark shades of my psyche. Now, if I glance toward the bedroom, the little stripe is gone. It has drifted out of view. All that remains is a general, less bright, but still warm hue. A subtle light, filling the bedroom with a more calming and reliable atmosphere. This is where I am, lately. Consistent. Safe. That light will fill the bedroom for hours, whereas the brilliantly beautiful white-gold apparition has manifested and confined itself. I long to find that white-gold kind of sparkly happiness within myself more permanently, but I am glad to have at least seen a glance, to know it exists, and to be left in the daylight instead of the nebulous midnight I have wandered blindly through all these months.

	2009.02.10  08.09 One Year at My Job I just randomly happened upon a post I wrote last February, the 8th, about my "new job" (a.k.a. Bright Horizons). It is so amazing to see how far I've come in a year, the way my confidence has been boosted, my patience has been formed, and overall, how much experience I've collected. I wrote that babies were not my expertise. It's so fascinating that before I started my job at B.H. I had only ever made a bottle once or twice before. I knew it was one scoop for every two ounces because I learned that at the other daycare, but I had no idea how warm a bottle should be. Now, I run around my classroom like I own it-- like I've been doing this sort of stuff for years. I cannot say that I am absolutely in love with my job, however, it has gotten better since those days I wrote about a year ago. There are still incredibly stressful moments, especially whenever we receive a whole bunch of new kids, like we recently did, but things are already starting to fall into place. I love my co-worker, and I have friends at work. The children, of course, I adore, and guess what? They are soothed by me and love me as well. In a year, I have made the classroom a more manageable place. It is as organized as an infant classroom can be. We come up with awesome lesson plans and activities to do with the children, we make up silly songs and do circle-time and I have a bunch of children I babysit for now on weekends (of which the Leite girls never became one of them, oh well). One of the best compliments I ever received on the job was from Liam's mother, and Liam was only part-time, which made me wonder how much more enthusiastic she would feel if he was there every day with me. She said to me during our parent-teacher conference: "I knew from the minute I met you that there was something special about you," complimenting me on my warmth, creativity, and passion with the children. For some reason she thought I was extraordinary. This compliment, albeit incredible, has also made me feel a tad guilty, because I don't feel as extraordinary and she thinks I am. Jackson's parents reconfirm all the time that I am the best babysitter that they've ever had-- They were scared to go out in the past, and purposefully didn't, because of a bad experience with a babysitter, where Jackson screamed, literally, for the entire duration of their absence. He doesn't even make a peep when his parents leave now. And boy, do I love spending time with that child. It's weird, how even though I felt like I was in foreign territory I pushed myself through it by remaining optimistic. Did I have confidence that I would be where I am today? Did I just KNOW that everything would be alright? I think I did. And it is. This is not the end of the road for me-- I have many other journeys I'd like to pursue. I want to try teaching Montessori. I'd love to be a Lead Teacher or Director of a daycare. And maybe, someday I will enjoy being a Stay-at-home Mom. Each one will be a new and scary experience, but I know myself well enough by now to understand that whatever adversity or new challenge comes my way, I am prepared.

	2008.12.15  21.39 Vanity Sometimes I just want to sell myself like sex. What I mean is.. slut myself out, metaphorically. I look at girls' pictures, their artistic (or not) portrayals of their bodies, and I think, why can't I do that? I guess the first reason is a boyfriend, but even though I'm one of the biggest self-proclaimed narcissists that I know, I've considered myself too "virtuous" to display my flesh. When someone eludes to my physical beauty it strikes me as odd these days, because I've come to know myself solely as an intellectual, spiritual being. Someone who is powered by ambition and motivation. Someone who finds her best qualities to be her wisdom, intellect, and kindness. When I was sixteen, my best qualities were my eyes, boobs, and butt. I've come a long way from that perspective. Perhaps too far; I cannot look in the mirror and see beauty any longer unless it is masked with mascara and eye shadow, lip gloss and hair gunk. I am constantly battling between this world and the unseen. Wanting to be completely immersed in the spiritual completeness, yet undeniably chained to the desires of this world. I want things- not to a point of extreme greed, but I would like to travel, I like to buy clothes now and then; I love hot showers and a cozy bed. Magazines, candy, TLC, the bookstore, YouTube... I am bound. I went through a period of what I would like to call neutrality. I never wore make-up, my hair was constantly tied back in a bun, I wore ugly or boring clothing. It seems as though I only try to be attractive when I'm actively seeking a mate. Now that I have one, I feel uglier than ever. Does that even make sense? I know my body is in pique condition; I do yoga frequently, I eat relatively healthy, and I can see the difference. What I am referring to here, is my facial beauty, the overall look. And although, I still consider myself in a partial stage of neutrality, I have been trying lately. Is there something wrong with wanting to be beautiful? Outwardly? I will always gravitate toward the side of intellectualism rather than beauty, but aestheticism is different than vanity, and I find the world aesthetic in so many respects. My two mantras are: Life is Beautiful and Love Always. Love and beauty and intellect and wisdom can piece together uniformly somehow, I believe. And if not, well then, I may just have to put myself out there for ego's sake once in a while... Mood: vain

	2008.06.26  07.02 Trying You know how people use the expression, "trying to wrap their minds around something"? -- like a concept or thought that is just a little too difficult to understand? I think that is where our problem lies... in trying to wrap. The universe and all that it includes is way too much for our little brains to wrap. I think the answer is that we must conform. Surrender. Exist. Letting the answers flow in. I have always taken pride in being an intellectual. In analyzing. In thinking about things and coming to conclusions. I've been reading one of Jesse's books, "Be Here Now", which was written in the 60's I think by Ram Dass, and it is about yoga, drugs, meditation, and the way. I had about a 1000 thoughts that made sense to me while reading this book, and then realized, that although I analyzed something in a philosophical manner until it made more sense, I was so far away from the truth, because I won't just STOP and listen. I don't know how to shut off my brain. I've also always taken pride in being able to understand "big picture" concepts. I've never been one for details-- but I can see the way in which everything in the universe is tied. I can understand it and explain it. My boyfriend seems to think that I am "smart", as in academically smart. I've never really thought I excelled in this form.. I guess you could call my intelligence more like wisdom. But even in my sagaciousness-- I am so far away. I am sitting here typing my thoughts into words, because I don't know any other way-- when I need to sit back and release my brain from its body. I think the reason why people are so out of tune with one another is because our own minds are racing at a million thoughts per second. If we were all open vessels, we would sense each other's energies and emotional states. I do this, naturally, due to my empathic nature, but imagine if I ceased to have an ego all together? What I would learn about others? I'm almost always only thinking about myself. And even when I'm not-- I'm thinking about others from "Amanda's perspective"-- from her ego. From her identity. It's inherently selfish and focused. Perhaps this is something to work on. I've also been wondering why I've been feeling depressed lately. Is it the smoking of things? Is it my job? Is it the price of gas? Is it unresolved issues? Is it the lack of intimacy? It is probably all these things and more... My boyfriend feels the same way. I am empathetic to him whether I want to be or not (trust me, I don't want to be all the time). I think that I am soaking in his energy when we are together, living here, in this space. I'm not sure what to do about it, or if there is anything to do about it. Can one change the energy in the room? Can one combat negative energy and replace it with positive energy even if it is fabricated? These things I know not. But perhaps, I shall work on them. We'll see. Mood: lazy

	2008.05.26  09.26 Pending Summertime A few weeks ago, we all got a small taste of Summer. The weather was abnormally warm. It was as if we bypassed Spring completely, moving full speed ahead right into Summer's heat. However, then, a cold spell washed through and made us all grumpy, and yesterday was the first day that felt like Summer again since then. When the weather gets warm, especially on sunny days, I suddenly feel alive again, as if my bones have been exhumed from my wintery grave. And it's a surprising feeling, even though it happens the same way every year, because I don't realize how dead my body had become in those winter months. It's more like apathy or numbness instead of death. So, when warm weather finally comes, I want to be out in it as much as possible. Yesterday, Jesse and I decided to walk on the Simsbury bike path, since now it is only .3 miles from our apartment. We did approximately a 4 mile walk. It was nice. I wanted to go hiking, instead, but because he hasn't been working out regularly like me, he wanted to stick to something flat. And it was nice, I have to admit, to be in the sunshine. Today is Memorial Day, and I have the day off from work, so now I'm trying to decide what I want to do with my day. I really want to get my bike, so I can go bike riding, but it is at my parent's house, and it doesn't fit in my car easily. Jesse and I were supposed to get up early and go to a free yoga class, so he could try it and decide what he thought of it, but as I expected, he changed his mind and was all grumpy to me this morning. It disappoints me, because he is missing out, but it is his choice. So instead, I am having some me-time. Then, I will probably go for a walk outside later on. I also need to work on my portfolios for work and call the insurance company because of my car accident, but I don't want to... :( I feel grumpy and in a bad mood this morning, but I know that once I go outside, it will subside and be forgotten, because the sun's warming rays will be on my face and back and connect me back with the source. Mood: grumpy Music: "handlebars" by the flobots

	2008.02.08  10.39 A New Job I am sitting here typing this with a stuffy nose and a lethargic body. For the past week or so, I have been working in an infant classroom, picking up baby after baby, trying to soothe them, failing a lot of the time. Today is my last day of nannying. Since I have landed this new job, I have been thinking about the past year and a half I have spent with the Leite girls. These three small girls, Madeleine, Beatrice, and Josephine (I call her Josie), have practically been my adopted children for quite some time. I never really loved the nannying experience. Although I love each and every girl, I did not particularly like the pace and arhythmic beat of each day. Never knowing whose house I'm going to be at or if the father will be staying home that day was a major stress factor for me. Also, trying to come up with activities for them to do during the sometimes-nine-hour-stretches that I'd be with them was really tough. Most people would love to get paid 13 dollars under-the-table to sit around, eat other peoples' food, and watch tv. OF COURSE, I did much more than that, and of course, my days were not stress free. However, the pace of a nannying day is quite often fairly slow. Lots of time for leisure. I did not like this, considering I have an "A-type" personality and enjoy being busy. I like structure and knowing when I am leaving each day and where I am going to be. So naturally, I thought that switching back to the daycare routine would be a perfect solution to the restlessness, boredom, and frustration I was feeling with my nannying job. Also, I am in need of more cash and some benefits. I started my new job already, on the days that I have not been nannying. I have to say, I do not really like my job. The children are cute, but all of them are sick. I am sick, but still have to rush around for 9 hours tending to 8 children. The stress is through the roof, and I do not get to do fun activities with the children since they are barely able to stand or walk. These are the really young guys; I prefer toddler through pre-school age. I am actually over-joyed that today I am nannying, albeit my last day. I got to sleep an extra two hours this morning, which I desperately needed since I have been sick for almost a week. I get to spend time with children, whom I know I can handle. Whom I know that I am skilled with. Starting a new job, in a relatively new environment (really young babies are not my expertise), has made me feel inadequate for most of the hours I've spent there. Madeleine, Beatrice, and Josephine come to me for comfort. They stop crying when I soothe them. They talk to me to tell me what's wrong. And they love me. Perhaps in time, these "waddlers" I am now in charge of, will come to feel soothed by me as well. Luckily for me, the girls' parents still want me to be the weekend babysitter. I do love those girls, I just needed a change of pace and more cashflow. Now that I have a change of pace, I am fearful that I have made a mistake-- that this is not the job for me. But I keep reminding myself that I will get better at what I am doing, and that the days DO INDEED go by faster, even if I barely get a chance to eat or sit down. Jesse, my boyfriend, has recently become newly employed, himself. He is doing third-shift at Walmart, a job he is way OVER-qualified for. He hates it, naturally, as do I, because we aren't going to be seeing or hearing much of each other until he gets a new job, but we keep reminding ourselves that this is a step in the right direction, a start towards our goal: an apartment and some cash. We hope to have a place by June, so both of us working is an integral part of that goal. One thing I have learned about myself through these experiences is that I am abundantly optimistic. If there ever was a time for me to retain optimism, this surely is it. Even though I am leaving my beloved girls, and even though I am doing a job that I hate to admit I don't love, and even though Jesse is working night time hours, I have been able to see it in a positive way. Working with these infants is testing my patience. It is heping me to gain experience that I will surely need. The day really does go by faster, which is something I wanted. I am moving around the classroom a lot, and not stuffing my face all day long, which I had a tendency to do at my other job, so I am not intaking as much junkfood calories. And, I am still able to do yoga during the week. Also, Jesse is not going to be at his job forever. As soon as he can, he is going to become recertified to be a CNA and he will have a new job and some medical insurance. And hopefully, in no time, we will be able to rent our first apartment together and I will be out of my house. Things have never really been a piece of cake for me. I am used to enduring hardships. I am used to not getting exactly what I want. I think that mindset actually helps me to push through yucky situations without giving up easily. I've never walked out on a job, I've never just not shown up. I have always persevered, and I will persevere through this as well. I want to eventually be in a toddler room, which I think is achievable. I won't be where I am indefinitely. A new job brings with it new stresses, but it holds the potential to bring with it new joys as well.

	2007.12.28  08.51 On Holiday I survived another Christmas. It wasn't so bad with my sister and her boyfriend, Jason, here. We all love him. And Jesse got to stay with us for like 5 days as well. So it was much better than I had anticipated. I get nervous around the holidays because I never know how I am going to feel. I don't really like the idea Christmas has turned into, and I don't have very much money. Plus the idea of spending family time with my family sometimes is not something I really love. But this year it was fine. We had one dramatic moment Christmas Eve, but it blew over. It was nice to spend times with my sisters, together, mostly. And of course, playing with the Conor miester. Cutest. Baby. Ever. (Except for when I have kids). Today Krissy and Jason go back home; I had to say goodbye to them yesterday because I am up early today. I have to go back to work (granted its for one day... but still). I am going to have a loooong day with three girlies. I hope they liked my Christmas gifts. I got used to having Jesse at the house (and Kris and Jason). It was nice to not always be the center of drama.. or the reason for it. It was nice to be able to slip into the other room unnoticed if some sort of drama arose. It was nice to have Ellen be so jovial most of the time because Krissy was here. It was just nice. I didn't mind having Jesse there to rub my back before sleep every night either. But I get to see him today after work. I just am so blah about my job. It's weird. I love the girls. I have fun with them. But I don't really love the job. If that makes sense. I am ready for something else, but I know that I am going to miss them a lot. This journal is really of no value except to spout out random things floating in my head.. so don't mind the scattered-brain quality of it. And the lack of depth....

	2007.12.19  11.19 Uselessness I had a thought last night as I read more from this book on Taoism that I have (I have been reading it before bed every night as sort of a calming experience to silence my mind and help me sleep instead of watching television). I wrote a little while back about accomplishment. This was before I was reading about Taoism, but what I wrote reminded me of one of the main themes of Taoism: usefulness versus uselessness. Essentially, my piece was referring to how one cannot become accomplished in society unless he has done many things (mainly, things of prestige), and it is something I battle with because I feel accomplished simply because I love my boyfriend the best that I can, I practice yoga, and I try hard every day to be a better person. According to the Tao, being useless is the most important thing. For example, Thirty spokes share the wheel's hub; It is the center hole that makes it useful. Shape clay into a vessel; It is the space within that makes it useful. Cut doors and windows for a room; It is the holes which make it useful. Therefore profit comes from what is there; Usefulness from what is not there. -Eleven, Tao Te Ching In this short metaphor, Lao Tzu shows how the most "useful" (or important) things are that which are actually not there. I find this particular passage somewhat confusing, because it is a translation, and Taoism refers to the empty spaces (like doors and windows) as actually the "useless" because it is NON-material, but in turn, being "useless" is what is useful for us. So the wording is a bit confusing because this translation uses the word useful, but it is actually emphasizing that the useless is what is important (or useful to us). To further explain what I mean, if you had a house, or a room, with four walls, the space in the middle, the nothingness, is what makes it useful, right? The walls are the actual material-- the "useful" stuff, but it is not really useful at all, because how can you live inside a wall? You must live within the space it creates when you put four walls together. Also, how can you get into the room without a space for the door? The void, the useless, is what is useful. In another example, if a man is concerned with only the useful, the actual ground which lies exactly beneath where his feet are standing, then the rest of the world is useless because he is not using it. But the useless is important, because if the rest of the vast world, the useless world, was to sink into a deep abyss, then the man would become dizzy and unable to stand on the tiny platform of useful ground. The useful becomes useless without the useless. Understand? Now that uselessness and usefulness have been explained, my point in writing this piece is because I have been thinking about ways in which to become more "useless". My piece on accomplishment shows that in some ways I am useless, I do things that I enjoy, but it also shows that I am striving to accomplish things in the world-- to gain plaques and accreditation. Being completely useless is doing something merely because you enjoy it, no other reason. Not to gain footing in the world. Not to climb the social ladder. Not to lose weight. Not to get married and have a family. Being useless is silencing the mind. Doing nothing, sometimes. Meditation. Being truly happy. When we are completely natural, in other words, only following the will of the natural earth and not the man-made lifestyle, then we are happy. There are no torrents pulling us this way and that, urging us to constantly be productive. When the block is carved, it becomes useful. When the sage uses it, he becomes the ruler. Thus, "A great tailor cuts little." -Twenty-eight, Tao Te Ching This may seem like a lecture. Like a diagnostic manual. It is not. I just wanted to help you understand what is meant by uselessness. It is hard to grasp, since it is nothingness. Yesterday, I was telling Jesse about my day. I told him I had a very productive day off: I mopped the kitchen floor, vacuumed the house, cleaned the bathroom, brought my car to Midas, finished my Christmas shopping, and made a call to the Learning Corridor (the place at which I am hoping to do my Montessori training). As I said it, I instantly thought about being useless. I was not very useless yesterday. Uselessness is not what society wants, but it is what the Tao is. I find small ways in which to be completely in the moment; ways I can simplify my mind, embrace quietude. I go to yoga and surrender my thoughts, send them off with each exhalation. In savasana, also called corpse pose, the final resting pose in yoga, I try to cultivate energy by focusing only on my breath and the different parts of my body. I embrace, entirely, being on the ground, closing my eyes. Being worried and anxious about the world around me and its demands, I pretend at night that I am the only soul in existence, making a cocoon over my head with the blanket. I lay there in the fetal position or in child's pose and pretend like nothing else is there except the feeling of calm and the nest I have created. For a few moments, I feel the anxiety wash away, because for a moment, but only a moment, I have found nothingness. Do you think you can take over the universe and improve it? I do not believe it can be done. The universe is sacred. You cannot improve it. If you try to change it, you will ruin it. If you try to hold it, you will lose it. So sometimes things are ahead and sometimes they are behind; Sometimes breathing is hard, sometimes it comes easily; Sometimes there is strength and sometimes weakness; Sometimes one is up and sometimes down. Therefore the sage avoids extremes, excesses, and complacency. -Twenty-nine, Tao Te Ching Mood: awake Music: Trevor Hall

	2007.12.15  14.59 A Few Words on Mediocrity Inspired by the New Radical’s, You Only Get What You Give, which is currently playing on my itunes, and by my recent practices in yoga and knowledge expedition of Buddhism and Taoism, I am writing this blog today. I have written in the past month about how although I am practicing yoga on a regular basis, I cannot help noticing that I’ve felt more depressed and been a more angry person than I’ve been in a long time. These behaviors and my practices seem to contradict one another. Only recently have I been reading more in-depth about Buddhism and the background of Yoga as well as Taoism. I have read some in the past about Buddhism, but not nearly enough, and I own the Tao Te Ching, but it is comprised of sayings that, although self-explanatory and sagacious, never allowed me to comprehend the basis of what Tao really is. I learned that Lao Tzu only wrote the Tao Te Ching because the guard at the Himalayan border, who was also a disciple, wouldn’t let him pass until he wrote a book about all that he had learned. Lao Tzu was going to the Himalayas to die alone, because he believed that one should be alone when he passed, and only wrote the Tao Te Ching to appease the disciple and enter the Himalayas. He warns at the beginning of the Tao Te Ching that one can never understand the Tao by reading the Tao. “The Tao that can be told of is not the absolute Tao.” Since I am reading about the Tao, I have recognized that I still do not possess the true understanding that can only come with experience, but it is starting to unravel itself to me, and it is not unknown. The Tao seemingly is what I’ve known inherently all this time. Nevertheless, it has inspired me to take a look at my life and reexamine the ways in which I’ve been behaving and thinking. I have been upset lately with the conditions of my place of residence, which happens to be with my dad and step-mom. The things they have said and done to me since I was young, the disrespectful ways in which they still treat me like I’m fifteen. The list goes on. But what I’ve also recognized is how I’ve handled them treating me poorly. I’ve gone over the edge. I am filled with hatred, grudges, meanness, and anger. I want revenge. I want to ignore them. I don’t want to be nice. Not that I’ve necessarily put all these thoughts into practice; but I have thought them. Which is just as bad. The Eightfold Path (of Buddhism) explains that we must abstain from foul language, cheating, stealing, and lying. I have found myself swearing more since I stopped going to church. More than I would like to. I take care of children, so my swearing only occurs around adults and never in the presence of children, but it still disgusts me. I tell white lies sometimes. I feel anger towards people who have hurt me, because I tend to be somewhat of a pushover in the workplace as well as at home. On a seemingly less damaging scale (but probably more dangerous than any other facet of my behavior), I have been filling my mind and eyes with media at every turn. I used to pride myself in the knowledge that I rarely ever watched television. I certainly never turned it on to keep me company at night like I find myself doing all the time now, because I can’t sleep. I have been watching shows primarily from VH1 and MTV, as well as fashion-related shows on TLC. They seem so harmless, especially because they are so mainstream in society and fully accepted. I also do not realize how much of them I watch sometimes, because they are intermixed with shows from the History and Discovery channel. Realizing these shows cause unhappiness in me, due to constantly sizing myself up to the appearance of others, and feeling stress due to whom is fighting with whom on Real World, etc., I know that it is not mentally healthy for me, or anyone else. Last night I asked Jesse why someone like me, someone who seems to have a naturally inherent ability to understand things not of this world with ease, someone who has always considered herself to be more self-actualized than many of those around her, why would someone like me purposely make myself mediocre by watching television in my free time, thus becoming obsessed with the material world? He replied that he’s thought the same thing about himself. So, I told him I am making a pact with myself to watch less television. Ultimately, I would like to reduce it to nothing, but I still like the shows Scrubs and Futurama, so I have allowed myself those two shows, as well as the Discovery and History channel if I absolutely cannot sleep. But no more VH1, no more MTV. If you look, my Myspace profile says I refuse to be mediocre. Lately, I think that I have not been doing my part to live up to my own expectations. The media seems like such a small way to try to clear my mind, thus making myself more susceptible to becoming “awakened”, but it is probably the most damaging thing I can think of that threatens our society because of its seemingly innocuous nature. It’s just entertainment, right? Unfortunately, the media, in all forms, has brainwashing capabilities. Everything we think and say stems from what society has taught us. Just the fact that we look for mates to marry and procreate with is a result of our human history. You may argue that it’s biology, and you’d be right, but only partially. The urge to procreate and be close to others is indeed biological, but the institution of marriage obviously isn’t. I’m not against marriage, I am just saying that most of society does not challenge these normalties of life; they merely accept them as the way it is. I march to the beat of a different drum. It may make this reality that society has created more difficult for me, but I take pride in striving to pass mediocrity. Mood: pensive Music: You Only Get What You Give - by the New Radicals

	2007.12.02  13.02 Christmas and Coffins The holidays are generally never a time I really look forward to, but this year is different. This year my sister comes home from San Diego, which she rarely gets a chance to, with her new boyfriend, whom most of us have not yet met. On the Christmas' that she returns home, they are usually a little more reminiscent of the holiday season that I once loved as a child. When I was a child, my sisters and I used to take turns putting the ornaments on the advent calendar. We would put on music as we decorated the Christmas tree, and on Christmas Eve, we would, as a family, open all of our gifts to each other, and then my dad would take my sisters and I out for a drive to see all the decorations and lights people had put up around their houses. This was my favorite Christmas tradition. It was magical. I stopped believing in Santa Claus around the same time that my parents got divorced. Christmas was henceforth bifurcated. In the last 13 years since my parents' divorce, I have spent my Christmas holidays traveling back and forth from place to place. If I can't afford or find a gift for someone, Ellen gives me one to give to them, which has completely wiped out the sacredness of Christmas giving for me. I have a hard time watching the world around me participate in the Holiday frenzy that antecedes Thanksgiving. Customers acting like a gaggle of turkeys, crazed and pecking around ferociously for bargains and items before the last one is gone. Hundreds and thousands of dollars spent on cards and gifts for friends and family, not to mention decorations and trees, and the novelty gifts and back-ups people buy for their co-workers or anyone who decides to give them a gift. It is not polite to receive a gift and not give one back. I don't know when this mindset began, but it hardly seems like any Christmas I'd like to participate in. Unfortunately, I don't have a choice, and am constantly nagged by my step-mother about what I've gotten for whom, etc. It is not acceptable in my family to be poor and decide not to give gifts. It is equally unacceptable to assure your family that you don't want anything, as in literally nothing. This is a concept that is as foreign as a quiet Italian meal. My Nana recently took a trip to the hospital. My dad had gone to visit her when he found her completely out of it. She was rushed to the emergency room that night. After several tests, the doctors came up empty handed, but my dad and I both know that something occurred for her to be the way she is. You don't go from being alert and capable to suddenly lethargic and incontinent. She has slowly been developing what I believe is dementia for the past year now, but this recent event was unexpected. When I was little, my Nana and Pop-Pop were always with us for the holidays to celebrate. They would drive from College Point, NY and stay with us for a few days. After my Pop-Pop died, my Nana moved to Connecticut and has been celebrating Christmas with us ever since. This is the first year that I've been scared that she might not make it to Christmas. The fact that I have already written her card and wrapped her present are besides the point, for it isn't about spending money that I could have saved, but I am genuinely worried and scared about what will happen when she passes. She may very well make it to Christmas and well past, but I know that her days are numbered. She is eighty-six years old and has been slowly displaying symptoms of dementia; she's lost weight, she seems unhappy. Right before I sat down to write this, I opened a folder on the desk labeled Meadow Brook of Granby. It contained an application for a nursing home for my grandmother in Granby. On it were such formalities as her date of birth, birthplace, language, marital status, church, hospital and pharmacy preference, and last of all it asked about funeral home preference and whether arrangements have been made. Both were filled in. Yes arrangements have been made and a funeral account already exists. I cannot help feeling incredibly sad thinking about this. Do the people in admissions at Meadow Brook ever stop to think about the depth of what they are handling? For them it's paperwork. For each family member sending a loved one to the nursing home it is more. I wonder if my dad thought about his mother and her life as he filled in those boxes and made those arrangements. How strange that we dedicate part of our life to preparing our death. Here is a nice bed for you to rest in while your body slowly dies. Give us your money or your children's money so we can make you comfortable while you wait. Then, we visit funeral homes and look at coffins, buy plots in cemeteries. Some people even write their own soundtrack of the music they want played at their own funerals. What is this obsession? This completely detached handling of our intimate death. Businesses see death as being a very lucrative inevitability. Buy the satin lined coffin with the gold handles! Spend thousands, literally, on containers to hold your empty, decaying shells! It reminds me in a way of the senselessness of the ceaseless spending done during the holidays. Have we forgotten what Christmas is about? Have we forgotten what life really means? As the holiday season closes in, I have found myself treasuring my Nana, thinking about memories and hoping that she'll be able to be with her family for at least one more Christmas. That is what Christmas means to me. Love. Giving. Sharing. That is what life means to me. Mood: contemplative

	2007.10.24  09.47 Storybook Life I love to read. I have probably over 200 books in my collection and I borrow books from friends and family on a regular basis. What is the driving force behind my motivation to open a book and become enveloped in a world of make-believe or a world of knowledge and fact? If I base my answer solely on fiction books, without the pursuit of knowledge as a factor, then I can say it is probably because I love the twists and idiosyncrisies of the characters I come to know, and the strange and unpredictable things that occur. Something I have been thinking about lately is what my life looks like as a book. I'm not going to write a book about my life or anything like that, I just wanted to see if I liked what I read~ if I had done good things with my time, was happy, loving, etc. Looking back, there are many things I would opt to change. Some of the resentful things I may have said or done to others in anger, the fact that a decent percentage of my teens was spent in depression, idly letting time slip by without doing anything to help myself. I even am upset that there are so many "love stories". Now, I have really only ever loved one other person aside from Jesse and he knows who he is, but, I have had several painful experiences with relationships. Sure, they helped to build who I am now, but sometimes I wonder if I would have been better without some of the pain that will never leave me. It would be untrue to say that I only ever loved one other person. I loved a few. But it was love in the sense of an agape or philia love, not eros. They are mostly all painful for me in some way or another, but the one I really loved still is painful even though I've moved on. So, since I've been thinking about my life as a story book, I've been focusing on the "right" ways to behave and dictate my life so that my story looks good when it is finished. I cannot take back the things I've done in the past, which makes me feel uncomfortable in the case of being judged someday, if that happens. But if it is all nothingness in the end, I still want to have a good story to look back on when I am on my deathbed. The reason why I love reading so much, however, is not because the stories are pleasant with perfect endings. That would be predictable and boring, like a Disney movie. The reason why I desire to pick up a book and lose myself in it is because of the unplausible, even horrific and distateful things that unfold. Of course, if the book was merely about the horrendous without the thread of dignity, compassion, or love woven through, I don't think it would be a good story at all. My life is a concoction of mess and beauty and it has brought me this far. I advocate living one's life in a manner that is peaceful and loving, but I guess I have to embrace the nasty things, the painful experiences and even, the things I regret for they are what have made me so interesting. I am a product of my story. I don't want to be a fairytale princess, so I have to stand proud with the fact that I've had my heart broken, didn't find love on the first try, and have done unmentionable things in my past. This is my story.

	2007.10.20  13.10 Accomplished What does that word even mean, anymore? According to dictionary.com it means: ac·com·plished [uh-kom-plisht] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –adjective 1. completed; done; effected: an accomplished fact. 2. highly skilled; expert: an accomplished pianist. 3. having all the social graces, manners, and other attainments of polite society. In the world, I think the adjective is used more for the skilled and elite members of society; those who have plaques all over their wall, publications, businesses, a nice home, etc. All the material products that indicate that someone has done something "meaningful" with their life. The question, then, is, what is meaningful? What is meaningful to me may not be meaningful to you, but what is meaningful to society on the whole is probably that which I just illustrated. In America, at least, you have to have a degree (or 3), a good paying job, and at least a few plaques on your wall to set your status to: Accomplished. This idea is troublesome for me, as I have no idea whether or not I will become accomplished in the sense of the definition I presented above. I like to believe that the things I do in life are important and establish me as a worthwhile humanbeing, but "worthwhile" is another one of those words with a precarious nature. What some people consider worthwhile may, once again, not be worthwhile to others. And in America, worthwhile probably places itself somewhere along the lines of accomplished. I do many things presently that make me classify myself as worthwhile, but not necessarily accomplished. I take care of little children and have been doing so for several years now. I make sure they are fed, clothed, comfortable, healthy, safe, having fun, happy. I help them to grow and learn. I am a part of their development process; I have influenced their maturation. I also do yoga a few times a week, which has been transforming my own physical health into something of magnificence. Yoga also has helped me to reduce stress, focus on my center, and my own place in this world as a person who feels things and contributes to those around her. I have been putting in immeasureable effort into keeping my relationship with my boyfriend healthy, happy, and the best it can be. These things, I fear, would not be classifiable under "accomplished" as society sees it. Perhaps I am wrong, but I think my BA degree in Psychology and my current enrollment as a graduate student with a major in Early Childhood Education are seen as a little more "worthwhile" in becoming an "accomplished" person who will someday be able to buy a house, pay her bills, contribute to society (in a manner that is more along the lines of business/economy), and have a family to raise and rear. My resume builders such as being a graduate assistant and working on studies, etc.; my internship senior year at Uconn-- these are things that make me accomplished. I do not have a "real" job yet-- still pulling in money under the table for nannying and babysitting; getting paid little by Central for being a graduate assistant- but I am supposed to be applying for Montessori teaching positions soon-- This particular assumption is what is making me question accomplishment to begin with. Will I then, finally, become an accomplished member of society? If I hold a real job, paying real money, where I can get a real apartment, and pay real bills with the ability to someday sustain a family and buy Christmas presents every year, THEN and only then will I be accomplished. Everything I am doing in the meanwhile is seen as a means to an end, instead of merely being what it is. In the here and now, I am surely making progress towards something, but I am having experiences. Maintaining health- both physical and mental. I am loving, with all my heart, a boy whom I wish to see become a continuation of my life, but for right now, just enjoy that I get to love him each and every day. Shouldn't this be what makes someone accomplished? Someone who is doing what they want to be doing?

	2007.10.06  12.56 On Saying Goodbye I have always attested that I love autumn. I talk about the way I love the smell of rotting, I bring the girls to pick out really pretty, colorful leaves so we can make a collage, I take walks almost every evening through the bike path near my house that cuts through the woods. It's strange to think I almost gave it away. That is what love does- makes you believe that what you want is what they want. And in a sense, yes, I wanted to get away, but leaving autumn is something I've been thinking a lot about lately. Jesse moved to Bradenton, FL (Tampa Bay area) about a month ago, and I supported him without ever voicing my concerns, because I am aware of his fickle nature, his obstinate mind, and his general unhappiness with life. I just wanted him to be happy, and realized that if he was happier, maybe he'd appreciate me more, too. Well, luckily for me, he has realized on his own that he isn't happy there without me, he wishes he had never gone, and feels genuinely terrible for ever leaving. He's coming home on Tuesday. So, I don't have to say farewell to the autumn season just yet. It is strange how once you decide that you are ready to leave a place, that place becomes so much more meaningful to you. It dawned on me, more than just a passing thought, that I wasn't going to see many of my friends very often. It also occurred to me, more in-depth, that I wouldnt enjoy the renewing feeling of fall. I wouldn't be around to watch Conor say his first real sentence, and I wouldn't be able to go to Friendly's with Victoria and Jesse. Part of me is extremely relieved that Jesse has chosen to come home. I think, at some point, I will be ready to move away, start a new life; somewhere warmer. But for now, I just don't think I'm certain I could do without the nostalgic scent of decaying foliage that crunches underfoot, while I realize that I am entirely in-the-moment and thankful I am alive.

	2007.09.28  19.36 here It's weird. You're on the East Coast. So close. But I can't feel you at all. It's as if you don't exist. Someone so loved, once, now, so extinct.

	2007.06.27  08.17 Intelligence The liberty to write is a wonderful thing. Freedom of speech, yada ya. I've been thinking, as I've been known to do, and I've been thinking about my own assumptions on intelligence. The varied many forms. See, here's the thing: There are several types of intelligences. That's why there are artists who are pot heads and can visually draw the most incredible masterpieces, but put them in a classroom and it's "huh what?" Also, thats why there are the cheerleader types who get straight A's in school (academic, book smart -- ability to memorize facts, etc) but are flakes and incapable of holding real intelligent conversation. These are stereotypes, I realize. They were just examples. But you get what I'm trying to say. According to multiple intelligences, there are at least 7 or 8 (I believe) categorized intelligences. Now, I think there are a lot more than that, but some of the categories are: musical, spatial, visual, emotional, intrapersonal, interpersonal, logical, etc. Everyone is going to have their strengths and their weaknesses. My personal strength supposedly is musical (scoring as my highest). It is these personal differences which make us able to come together and create great things. However, I've been mulling over something for awhile now. How is it that someone who displays multiple of these intelligences (really showing an all-encompassing genius, really) can be so UN-intelligent in one of the areas that seems so... what's the word, "obvious"... "second nature"?? What I mean is, I can't be the only person who understands the psychology of mankind. Or, in other words, the domino effect of our actions. I know I'm not, because people write books on this, teach classes, etc. Most of it has been sort of second nature to me, but I guess some of it I've imbibed and adopted (But with relative ease). An example? Ok here's a quiz, let's see how you answer. Your significant other tells you every whim and thought that passes through his/her brain, without a filter. Even the thoughts about breaking up when he/she doesn't really mean it. Do you see this as a wise thing to do? Let me tell you what I think. I THINK, the answer is no, because everything we've said becomes a suggestion unintentionally. It's imprinted in the mind of the other, it's become a swaying factor whether it was intended to or not, merely because it was pressed to the other person's ear. What I mean is, now the receiver of such news is going to be going over that idea of breaking up.. or whatever else the significant other has said... it's always going to be there in the back of their mind. Any intelligent person, I think, would realize not to do such things because of the way people are impressionable. But this is just one example there are many others. Others such as realizing that manipulation doesn't work and only isolates you. The reason why I'm mulling over all this is because MY boyfriend likes to do these such things. And he's not your run-of-the-mill average intelligence or even slightly stupid guy. He's incredibly incredibly intelligent, probably one of the most intelligent people I know, and yet, completely lacks this form of intelligence. It doesn't seem to make sense to me. He carries on all day, paranoid of every little thing that could possibly come between us, when, long ago, I realized that worrying about stuff like that is wasteful, because you can never control what other people do, and you just have to trust as MUCH as one can REALLY trust another person. Which is to judge their character and make a call based on that, but knowing that you are never in control and whatever happens is GOING to happen, and if you try to prevent it you are only going to push people away. That is how I feel, and that is how I live MY life. He told me yesterday that when I am at home, I better not be going to the beach with my guy friends and wearing a two-piece because while he's working hard (at work), he doesn't want some guy mentally undressing me. I understand his jealousy, I do, but you cannot TELL someone that they cannot do something like that. Other things I modify because of his wishes, but this is really... I don't know, he can't control who thinks Im good-looking and I cant completely always wash away my sexuality. It's part of all of us. So-- it's inevitable that people are going to think Im hot, and when I present this to him? He says, "Well I can be just fine not worrying about my girl, and being alone, I don't need this." (Manipulation). He says things like, "Can't you respect this? Don't you love me?" (More manipulations). So Im cornered. I respect his wishes as much as I can, but if this means only wearing a one-piece bathings suit at all times around any guys, I think he's trying to play God. So, naturally, I feel distanced. And just try to ignore that he said that, and chalk it up to his anxiety problems. Do you see what Im saying here though? Some of these things.. it's like, I don't understand how he DOESNT SEE the manipulation and unintelligence in the way he's handling things. He's a very smart guy, I feel like his behaviors don't always reflect it. Or maybe Im too logical.. or have taken TOO many psychology classes (I do have my degree in it, afterall). But really, I think my attempts to handle the relationship the best way I know how, constantly considering others feelings, willing to negotiate, etc. Many things. It's being taken for granted, in a sense, because I don't receive it back. Arghh. I wasn't posing a moral dilemma of my own here... I was just using him as an example, for something I've been thinking about lately. It just seems so odd that there are people incapable of thinking the way I do (however, stuck-up that sounds).

	2007.05.29  08.28 whirlwind weekend Emotional like crazy. Yes. That's me. That's my boyfriend. Apparently this is my life. My parents have been gone since last Wednesday, and it was been the most wonderful week at home. I have been getting a lot of time to myself to spend outside in the sun, bike riding, reading, cleaning, whatever. It has been nice. Jesse came and stayed with me a few nights, and my guy friends came over once. I went bowling with Todd, Jay, and Jill as well. It was lovely. BUT-- There's been some emotional charge in the air. Jesse has been very unhappy lately. Not with me-- he has chemical imbalances. Literally. So, he gets unhappy for no reason at all, or perhaps just the product of his genetics and the terrible circumstances of his youth and teen years. This unhappiness however rubs off directly onto me. Everything he feels, I feel. It makes me wonder whether or not we will work, or SHOULD put ourselves through pain to work. On Saturday I went to go see Jesse. We had a lovely day-- took a long nap, snuggled, watched a movie... Sunday, I went to my mom's to help her, we watched another movie, hung out with his brother... and then Monday we were going to go to the beach, but the weather report misguided us. We did not go because we were told it was going to rain, but it was, of course, a beautiful, warm sunny day. Grrr. I was emotional, because I was bored and wanted to do SOMETHING. He wanted to sit all day. Literally. We went to Coventry Lake-- where I sat in the water and tried to enjoy it, but couldnt. Essentially, it got to the point where I was ready to leave and go home out of boredom, but decided to stay. We had a long conversation in the car which resulted in me crying a lot, because I thought we were going to break up, but then we decided not to. We both love the crap out of each other SO fiercely. We never want to leave the other-- sometimes we just wonder if it's always the right thing to stay together. But-- after our discrepancy, he held me close, apologized for making me cry, and held my hand. We sat on the back porch with his mom and talked-- he took me through the beginning of what he wants to do with me everyday: a really extreme work-out regimen. I did about 8 minutes of it yesterday and I am sore today. This is supposed to be an 1.5 hr. workout. Then he taught me the bone structure of the face and showed me how to draw the face (I can draw, but not like he can). It ended up being a good night afterall. I love him so much I dont think I could ever leave him. This may result in me not being happy sometimes. But I always realize that I would much rather be with him than not. He is so loving and caring. Affectionate. He is these things. No one has ever loved me like he has. I always think-- him and I get frustrated with one another because I am social and he is not (This is our major problem, and basically the only real one). I like to do things that are fun, he does not. Because of this, we both sometimes think it may be better if we weren't together. But-- I always think... all of this reality we know is a complete construct.. something made up and extremely fragile. It could change in a split second. Natural disaster, disease, accidents, war, etc... could be anything but our lives could be changed significantly or swept from under us at any moment.. and this is the only reality I really trust and believe in, honestly. It's not positive and optimistic, BUT-- this is why love comes first and foremost in my life. He makes me feel so full of love and life sometimes. And when I love him it is not like anything I can explain. It is this unworldly thing. A true binding of souls. When I think about it-- I need him more than I need anything else in this life, including an apartment, a job, or a marriage. Love is what it is all about in the end. It is all we will ever have. This is why I cannot and will not leave when I love him so deeply. At the end of the day, it is all about love. And that is a positive thing that keeps me going. It keeps us from fighting, and it keeps things real.

	2007.05.25  08.25 feeling like a bad word. How am I supposed to have a good day when he says things like that? Gets mad at me the second we say goodbye and then rushes to his car. He calls to apologize and ends it with a sarcastic, "But hey, you do whatever you want. You know?" Which basically negates the whole apology. He does this, he. I'm going to take care of the girls-- we're going to go swimming in an in-ground pool with a diving board. Hey, we might even eat popsicles or icecream, because I am an awesome babysitter. And I also like popsicles and swimming.. so hey. It's gonna be a good, hot day. Right? I've had basically two whole days to myself... to do whatever. I went for a bike ride for the first time, in literally, years, yesterday. It was great. My ass hurts-- has two bruises from the seat. But it was great. I've been compiling all my college notebooks into one binder-- so if I want to refer back to my notes for something, it's easily accessible. I've been relaxing and reading. And I've also been somewhat bored of all of it. Now that I have a day where I HAVE TO WORK, I don't want to. I want to sit here and be pissy. And go for a bike ride. And sleep some more. It's funny... it's always like that. Always. Greener grass syndrome. We almost broke up like 5 times in the last two days... but we would never actually break up with each other. That's the problem. Nothing in me REALLY wants to, but every part of me is screaming to at the same time. If that makes sense. I genuinely love and want to BE with the boy. I am just starting to wonder WHY. It makes me mad that I refused to let it end two weeks in, when he messed up. Or every month after that when we fought about the thing that really upsets him... my social life and the lack of his. I think about how great it would be if I had a boyfriend who liked to socialize with my friends and go out for beers once in awhile.. basically like Adam or Gus would.. how I miss that. Now, I feel penalized for being me.. Im not appreciated.. I am often made to feel bad.. I am torn between friends and him.. But I love him. Besides, there is no more Adam, no more Gus. Adam decided he didn't want to be with me, and I guess I can understand why now. He was there, I was here, he REALLY needed to do his school/career stuff and I was getting in the way. I get it. Priorities right? And Gus, well Gus just decided to rob a store and go to jail. So. Didn't even have a SAY in that matter. Not that I did in the other one either. Jesse thinks the reason why I picked him is because I settled because Adam dumped me and Gus went to jail. That's not true at all, however. I thought it was fate, destiny, my life story finally making sense... He came back to me and fell in love and oh, how I love him fiercely. Just.. is it worth it? I want an apartment (call me selfish); I want to see friends sometimes (call me selfish); I want to get married and make babies.. beautiful ones (call me selfish). These are the things I aspire to do. I want to get engaged (call me selfish). But lord knows, that if he cant even get it together enough to save some money for an apartment that he promised me months ago.. well crap! I dont know. I may be 35 with 3 kids already before he proposes.. Im pointing out all his flaws of course. Because I am really bothered and torn and tortured right now. He's quite lovely sometimes. In ways no one understands. I mean I DO love him, there's a reason for that. Of course, I loved him 7 years ago when I lay in his bed in my underwear after coming off of E while he was "doing things", stopped, and decided it was over. I cried a single tear, sniffled, and lay there awake all night... while he slept peacefully. I loved him all that time. Everytime he has hurt me, I've loved him.

	2007.05.23  08.09 time for tomorrow This time last year I was moving out of my apartment in Willi. Wow how time flies. I remember Gus helping me pack everything into his and my car late one night, so he could drive with me down to Simsbury to bring my stuff home, because I procrastinated in moving things out quicker. He later admitted that he helped move me out that night, because he wanted me to sleep at his house. Earlier, I had collapsed in my empty, dusty room on his soft, big lap, tearful and panicked. Just trying to get everything packed in 90 degree heat-- knowing I was headed back home, a place I hate being. And now, it seems as though Willimantic was just a dreamful suggestion I had once upon a time. Dating Adam, hanging out with the girls, getting free drinks at Corleone's whenever I wanted... all just a creation in my mind. The only reality I see now is my boyfriend, going to school, taking care of three small girls. I hang out with Todd and the gang, and sometimes my girls. And I know that if I move again... there won't be the same nostalgia of leaving-- it will be exciting-- but in no time it will seem as if I never came back to Simsbury. Phases of life need to pass smoothly and quietly like a child creeping in the night to get a snack. The occasional bump reminds us that it might have really existed... but really, we all need to focus on today, and of course, tomorrow.

	2007.05.05  11.59 The Thing I Love About Little Children Is... A perfect day, where not everything has to be perfect, but the children are good. That was my day yesterday. I spent 14.5 hrs at the place I nanny yesterday, because they asked if I could babysit directly following my usual day of nannying, because it was their "mormor's" (grandmothers, but I think that actually means MOM in Swedish) surprise birthday party. When I was little, I loved being the "little, cute" one all the time. I was the one that everyone said was adorable and the one that everyone adulated. I was very narcissistic (not that I am not now...) and I was self-absorbed, but not necessarily in a bad way, just in the way that children are. I wanted to be an actress. A following thought of mine that I actually had when I was younger was, "There is no other way to live in this world but to be famous." I was serious. I didn't think life was all that exciting unless I was going to be on stage performing for everyone or kissing really cute boys in teen movies. Somewhere along the way, after reconnecting with God and feelings of altruism and the "greater good", I started to suddenly feel otherwise. I have always lamented the loss of my innocence, since my parents were divorced when I was 11, and my ideal of love shattered in split seconds. This event coupled with a few minor events a few years prior, such as my pinwheel being taken away by a construction truck that was doing work on our backyard, or our swingset being expropriated along with our sandbox, never to be replaced (I was the ripe age of 7 or 8), I really missed my childhood at an early age. I would make collages in my teens; a sort of shrine to the youth I felt I no longer had- but they always revolved around me, or a picture of me when I was young. Then I discovered that by being around children, I was reliving a part of me that had gone astray so many years back. That was when I started to really consider a career working with children. That, and I was surprisingly good at it, because little did I know, I had an inner child in me all along. I remember, a little less than two years ago, when I was seeing the first boy I ever really loved, and starting my new job at the daycare, the feelings of fullness and love coursed through me every second I spent with those tiny children. It was a strange feeling, to be "in love" with someone else's child, and be in love with a man you adored; the capacity to love was extended that day to a place I didn't think it could go. I loved and learned to love more than I thought I possibly ever could, and it was so easy. It just happened. Now, I am with the man I assume I am going to marry, and I am nannying for 3 girls, who I've been taking care of for about 8 months. Things were not always rainbows and butterflies, nor are they still. But I feel that I've really come to a place with them, where I feel comfortable being around them, able to give them affection, know that they genuinely care for me in return... it's great. It almost feels like I have 3 little sisters, when I am there. We will squabble, and sometimes I'll yell, but we are so close now, that they are over it in two seconds, and the bad feeling I had about yelling at them does not stay too long because they reassure me (in their kidish ways-- with hugs, smiles, whatever) that I am special to them. Yesterday, the reason why I started writing this piece, was one of those really good days. Beatrice, usually a fireball, defiant and wild (sometimes for the worse), surprised me. She was so affectionate all day long, she was usuing beautiful manners and being considerate of her sisters. We took a trip to the park, which the two youngest loved, we counted dandilions and tried not to step on bees. Then, Madeleine came home with a huge splinter in her knee and had to be taken to the doctor, but before all this, all of us planted some flowers and watered them. Josephine took a KILLER nap, almost 4 hours, which was greatly appreciated by yours truly, and she did not soil her diaper once that day. It was a day of all days, I'm telling you. Right before mom and dad came home, while Madeleine was at acting class, Beatrice was snuggled on my lap, and Josie was curled up next to me on the chair, and we watched TV. Then, we had to get Madeleine from acting, while the parents went out, and I made them dinner, and they had a really great time. At one point in the day, Madeleine asked me if I was still going to be their babysitter when I was 29 (I told her I'd be 29 when she turned 10), and I said "I don't know", not wanting to hurt her, and she said, "I hope you are!" Josie is just starting to learn how to speak: "go" "gook" (look) "bye" "hi" "mama" "da" "ball" and my personal favorite, "Mahhh Mahhh", which, of course, is intended to be AMANDA. It actually does sound different than the sounds she uses for "mama". Josie was the easy child. She was really tiny, but didn't fuss too much, and obviously, since she couldnt talk and spent half the day sleeping, she was never involved in the arguments. But now she is becoming a little older (will be 2 this summer) and she knows my name, face, and seems to have a real genuine attachment to me. She comes over to me about 1000 times a day, wanting me to pick her up. She also, as she did yesterday, will call out my name over and over until I answer. In the car: Josie: "Mahh Mahh.... Mahh Mahh.... Mahh! Mahh!" Me: "What??" (this is all intertwined with me trying to talk with the girls who actually talk) Josie: "Gook!" and I see a little pointer finger point to SOMETHING, of which I dont know what, through my rear view mirror. Ten seconds later, it starts all over. This happens for the entire 1/2 hour ride. Heh. ************************************************************* And at bedtime, the middle one, Beatrice, went and brushed her teeth without me asking, and while I was changing Josie, she brought in her toothbrush for her to brush. They are really growing up. Josie went down early, and then I read the girls a bedtime story (two, actually): There Was An Old Lady Who Swallowed A Fly, which I had to actually sing, and, The Sneetches, which is Madeleine's new favorite. They both curled up on both sides of me and then I tucked them in. There's nothing quite like a good book, a hug from 3 little girls, and a quiet night. The end to a perfect day. Mood: happy

	2007.04.09  08.06 10 minutes I have approximately ten minutes to write before I have to go to work. Is it just me, or does society have massive ADD? I hate having a job for more than a year... definitely no more than two. I am so close to being done with this job (nannying) even though I have a close companionship with the girls. It's like... I start to feel depressed if I stay in one place for too long. My body yearns to do something new... be somewhere different. Is this going to be a problem my whole life? I want to keep my grad assistantship job... but I guess that's a little different, I get to spend a lot of time by myself at work, and I like being by myself. I love taking care of kids, too, but on Friday there was a guinea pig (who should STILL be there today) and there was dog crap that I stepped in and got on my hands, simultaneously, there was throwup on the floor because Beatrice smelled the poo. Then there was fighting and teething and... LONG day. This weekend was Jesse and I's 7 month anniversary, officially marking this relationship as my longest ever. Woo hoo! I was a little disappointed because he couldnt save money to even get me anything, and I had put a lot of effort into making it really nice for him. :( We did have sushi and icecream, however. Also-- I babysat for Nathan on Saturday. I was so excited that they called me, because I hadnt seen him in probably 5 months or so. It was a treat. The kids were so well-behaved, too. Nathan remembered me and it was nice to spend time with him. He is so adorable. He was talking SO much, which is a huge change from the last time I saw him, so it was really great to see him developing and have conversations with him. I hope they call me again. :) Sometimes I hate birth control. It controls the possibility of birth occuring, but it also seems to dictate my moodswings.. I feel depressed on days for no reason whatsoever, and on other days my libido is raging and I am wide awake and happy. Like I used to be. But it seems more often than not that I am down, tired, and libido-less. This seems to be why today I am fantasizing about having a new job... and not having to go in at all. I have to be there a half hour early today because she called and asked if I could. Which is fine, because its more money for me, but gahhh. I did absolutely nothing yesterday except lay in bed with Jesse, go out to dinner, and drink wine/work on our scrapbook I bought for us. It was one of the nicest, most relaxing days ever. I havent had a day like that in eons, because my weekends are usually just as busy as my weekdays, which are incredibly busy. I feel really selfish sometimes, but I just want a week to myself, where I don't have to go to work (Either job) I dont have to go to class, and I don't have to drive to Southbridge to take care of my mom. Heck, I'd love it if my parents went away that week, as well, and then I could be truly satisfied. Relaxed and happy. But life doesn't work that way!!!! Looks as if Im not getting out of the house any time soon. I am starting to seriously doubt Jesse's ability to save money/use it wisely. It hurts me, because I am trying so hard to save and do this and that.. and he's basically blowing a lot of it and the rest is going to bills... I could probably GET the apartment, but I doubt that I'd be able to sustain it on my income. Ive been saving, but it is going to go fast, especially since I am only taking one class next semester, which means that I will be part-time and will not get my discount... :( I think that is LAME-O. Okay, well I rambled enough... and actually for 12 minutes... but that's okay. Time to get ready for my day. It shouldn't be so bad, I get home at 3. Have some alone time and then have to be off to class until 9.. but next week there should be NO class.. so that will be refreshing. I'm always looking for that thing that will help me hang on...it seems... Mood: tired