As I sat down to have my coffee on Friday morning, my boss came in and sat next to me. "How do you feel about travel?" he said. "I'm not sure," I said.
He then asked if I wanted to come to Las Vegas to a convention. He gave me a choice in the way that I'm the only video editor in the company, and they need someone to edit a video during a show. Not that I didn't want to go. I like being needed, and I want to be there. The question was the logistics.
My wife goes to graduate school classes twice a week. We don't have a babysitter because we've never needed one before. It's always been pretty much just us. For the first couple of years, her cousin lived with us, but she has since returned to Hawaii.
We've never left Timeout Boy in the care of anybody else, let alone someone new whom we don't know. In fact - I've written about this before - anytime we really want to see a movie, we take a day off, drop him at day care, and go on a little date. (Over the years, we've taken days off for "The Dark Knight", "Inception" and "The Dark Knight Rises". We're actually going to see "Django Unchained" this Friday, which is not a Nolan movie, for a change.)
After sorting it all out, my boss agreed to let me leave a day early so I can be home for one of my wife's classes, and she will either bring our son with her or just skip the other class. Now what I'm worried about his Timeout Boy himself. As mentioned, we have never been away from him much, and definitely not overnight. Not even once in his almost four years.
There were a couple of occasions for me. One was when he was about 9 months old. I was invited to this Monday Night Football viewing party with free beer and food. I was pretty miserable. I just wanted to be home playing with my kid. He didn't seem to notice that I was gone long, so that was good.
The second time was just a few months ago. We had a little company dinner, and he kept asking for me all night. He couldn't go to sleep because I wasn't home yet. I kinda felt bad about that.
This time I'll be gone for about four days. I hope he'll be okay. I probably won't be. The worst part will probably be the flight itself, when you're just sitting there with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Maybe if we get free internet on the plane, and we can do a video chat. We probably won't have internet at the hotel, in order to save money, but we might have it at the convention since we'll need the connection, so maybe I can sneak in a quick video chat before or after.
I don't know how frequent flyers do it. Sometimes I rush out of the office just to have a few more precious moments at home. I don't know how some people can deal with being away from their families so often. Even those who don't really travel but spend long hours at work. I'm not sure I can handle that. I don't get paid very much right now, but at least I have my weekends and generally get to leave after 5.
Anyways. Getting there and back safely is also in the back of my mind. I don't even wanna get into that at this point. I just can't wait for it to be over and be home again.
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Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
Queue Tips: James Bombed
I heard there were some good reviews of "Skyfall". I've even heard it was the best James Bond film ever. So far. It starts in medias res with people dead and shot and the spy in hot pursuit of the all important McGuffin.
They chase through exotic locations, amidst crowds of foreign extras, colliding into their carts and wares and putting their lives in danger. There are police standing by at the ready, and they join the race without a thought. Not even a look at each other to say "WTF yo?"
And then Bond and the bad guy ride motorcycles through the rooftops of this village. And it all goes smoothly. They even crash into a packed market area, and everybody lines up to either side so they can pass through without hitting anyone.
Then, another agent stops traffic and causes accidents until there is a logjam. She then gets out and watches the bad guy get away on top of a train. And no one yells at her for the damage she's done.
And so Bond gets on the train as well, and we get the fighting on top of a moving train scene. There is a Caterpillar digger thing on the train, and James gets on it. The bad guy keeps shooting at the metal digger part of it as though he thinks it's going to make a difference.
And stuff like that.
I don't remember the rest of it. I can't recall the female spy vixen agent's name. It's probably Connie Lingers or something like that. Sorry if I spoiled the film for you, but you've probably seen it anyway. In other movies.
Skyfall? More like Skyfail, amirite? LOLOLOL
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They chase through exotic locations, amidst crowds of foreign extras, colliding into their carts and wares and putting their lives in danger. There are police standing by at the ready, and they join the race without a thought. Not even a look at each other to say "WTF yo?"
And then Bond and the bad guy ride motorcycles through the rooftops of this village. And it all goes smoothly. They even crash into a packed market area, and everybody lines up to either side so they can pass through without hitting anyone.
Then, another agent stops traffic and causes accidents until there is a logjam. She then gets out and watches the bad guy get away on top of a train. And no one yells at her for the damage she's done.
And so Bond gets on the train as well, and we get the fighting on top of a moving train scene. There is a Caterpillar digger thing on the train, and James gets on it. The bad guy keeps shooting at the metal digger part of it as though he thinks it's going to make a difference.
And stuff like that.
I don't remember the rest of it. I can't recall the female spy vixen agent's name. It's probably Connie Lingers or something like that. Sorry if I spoiled the film for you, but you've probably seen it anyway. In other movies.
Skyfall? More like Skyfail, amirite? LOLOLOL
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Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Presents for the Future
I think Timeout Boy has been playing with the ribbon more than any of his Christmas toys. He calls it his snake. It was on the bed one morning, and he yelled at me when I sat on hit. Meanwhile, I don't know where the rest of his presents are.
Four of them are in the closet. Still in the box. He was more into the opening presents part than the actual content. He would rip the wrappings, throw the paper in the pile, and look for the next gift. We had to keep stopping him to take pictures.
He didn't notice when I took his two Lego Duplo sets and put them back in the closet. Just like he didn't notice last year when I took his Hess truck and stored it away. So now he has two Hess trucks in the closet. Next year, he gets to open them again, I guess.
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Four of them are in the closet. Still in the box. He was more into the opening presents part than the actual content. He would rip the wrappings, throw the paper in the pile, and look for the next gift. We had to keep stopping him to take pictures.
He didn't notice when I took his two Lego Duplo sets and put them back in the closet. Just like he didn't notice last year when I took his Hess truck and stored it away. So now he has two Hess trucks in the closet. Next year, he gets to open them again, I guess.
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Monday, January 7, 2013
Silly nut.
Conversation with Timeout Boy, 3 years old.
Him: I want to watch, Daddy.
Me: Okay, you can watch Daddy.
Him: No, I don't want to watch a people. I want to watch a DVD. You silly nut.
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Him: I want to watch, Daddy.
Me: Okay, you can watch Daddy.
Him: No, I don't want to watch a people. I want to watch a DVD. You silly nut.
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Saturday, January 5, 2013
Memory Gland: Itchy Feet
I've slept like a baby the past couple of nights. That's because I hardly slept the past few nights before that. I'm a light sleeper. I usually wake up two or three times a night, and usually I'll go to the bathroom and go right back to sleep. I have to keep my focus on sleep, or my night is ruined. So if my wife is still awake - or when her cousin was living with us - I would have to ignore them and the rest of the world, or the sleep switch in my head would turn off and I'll be wide awake all night.
For some reason, sometimes when I wake up at night, my feet would itch. Then I'll scratch them and go back to sleep. But then they'll itch again and wake me. And again and again until I get pissed off and can't sleep anymore. This is what happened earlier this week.
I'm not sure why that is. I'd put lotion on it. I'd put anti-itch cream. I would sit in the tub and scrub and scrub. But in the middle of the night, it would still happen.
In the morning, while I was putting on my shoes getting ready for work, I remembered having itchy feet as a child. I was eight years old or younger. It was New Year's Day. My mom and I were getting ready for church. I have to idea where my dad was, or my two older brothers.
I didn't wear shoes often as a kid. Like most kids in the Philippines, I always wore slippers, or flip flops, or tsinelas in Tagalog. So when I put on shoes that day, I was uncomfortable and my big toe was itchy.
I was whining, even crying about it. And my mother said that I shouldn't be crying on New Year's Day, because that means I'll be crying all year. Since then, I always thought whatever you did that day, you'll be doing all year. I don't remember how the rest of that day went, or the year, for that matter.
Anyways, I thought hard about my current situation. I realized I had been having some terrible dreams before waking up. Nothing nightmarish or anything. More like worrysome. About trivial things. For example, I had been digitizing some video tapes into my hard drive, and I had a dream about that, where I was all confused in trying to organize the tapes. Stuff like that. I would be all anxious and wake up. Then my feet would itch.
One of my dreams was a vague one about a saw cutting wood. Like nothing else but that. I wasn't even doing it, and I don't know who was doing it.
Anyways, I thought about it some more, and I realized I hadn't been so organized at work recently. I haven't been keeping track of my projects. So I made a list of my tasks and priorities, and that seemed to help clear my mind.
I slept very well the next couple of nights. But my dreams were still weird.
In one of them, I was with another person, and we brought a live cow to this guy's house. The live cow was to replace a dead cow in someone's living room. That person opened his front door, and he was telling us that the one he had was fine or something. He was an older man, and he had a distinct hook-shaped nose. He kind of looked like maybe an actor from a Scorsese picture. And then he was eating off an opening from the dead cow's body.
Later on, I was eating with a man and a woman at a small diner. We were talking and there was some noise, and the woman casually said something like, "I wish you would close the bathroom door" across the room. And then I looked over and realized that the open door in the corner was the bathroom door, and whoever were there closed it. Suddenly we could hear ourselves clearly, and I remember thinking, so that's where that noise was coming from. And then the woman somehow ended up sitting at another table at another corner of the place, and I noticed that she was overweight. She hailed over a worker there, and I think she paid our bill.
Later on, the man I was with, who was an older man, but maybe not the same guy from before, was in our house. He was kind of jumping on our bed and on my son's crib, just like my son would. There are some other details that I've forgotten.
And then I woke up.
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For some reason, sometimes when I wake up at night, my feet would itch. Then I'll scratch them and go back to sleep. But then they'll itch again and wake me. And again and again until I get pissed off and can't sleep anymore. This is what happened earlier this week.
I'm not sure why that is. I'd put lotion on it. I'd put anti-itch cream. I would sit in the tub and scrub and scrub. But in the middle of the night, it would still happen.
In the morning, while I was putting on my shoes getting ready for work, I remembered having itchy feet as a child. I was eight years old or younger. It was New Year's Day. My mom and I were getting ready for church. I have to idea where my dad was, or my two older brothers.
I didn't wear shoes often as a kid. Like most kids in the Philippines, I always wore slippers, or flip flops, or tsinelas in Tagalog. So when I put on shoes that day, I was uncomfortable and my big toe was itchy.
I was whining, even crying about it. And my mother said that I shouldn't be crying on New Year's Day, because that means I'll be crying all year. Since then, I always thought whatever you did that day, you'll be doing all year. I don't remember how the rest of that day went, or the year, for that matter.
Anyways, I thought hard about my current situation. I realized I had been having some terrible dreams before waking up. Nothing nightmarish or anything. More like worrysome. About trivial things. For example, I had been digitizing some video tapes into my hard drive, and I had a dream about that, where I was all confused in trying to organize the tapes. Stuff like that. I would be all anxious and wake up. Then my feet would itch.
One of my dreams was a vague one about a saw cutting wood. Like nothing else but that. I wasn't even doing it, and I don't know who was doing it.
Anyways, I thought about it some more, and I realized I hadn't been so organized at work recently. I haven't been keeping track of my projects. So I made a list of my tasks and priorities, and that seemed to help clear my mind.
I slept very well the next couple of nights. But my dreams were still weird.
In one of them, I was with another person, and we brought a live cow to this guy's house. The live cow was to replace a dead cow in someone's living room. That person opened his front door, and he was telling us that the one he had was fine or something. He was an older man, and he had a distinct hook-shaped nose. He kind of looked like maybe an actor from a Scorsese picture. And then he was eating off an opening from the dead cow's body.
Later on, I was eating with a man and a woman at a small diner. We were talking and there was some noise, and the woman casually said something like, "I wish you would close the bathroom door" across the room. And then I looked over and realized that the open door in the corner was the bathroom door, and whoever were there closed it. Suddenly we could hear ourselves clearly, and I remember thinking, so that's where that noise was coming from. And then the woman somehow ended up sitting at another table at another corner of the place, and I noticed that she was overweight. She hailed over a worker there, and I think she paid our bill.
Later on, the man I was with, who was an older man, but maybe not the same guy from before, was in our house. He was kind of jumping on our bed and on my son's crib, just like my son would. There are some other details that I've forgotten.
And then I woke up.
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Saturday, September 22, 2012
Timeout Boy's first time in Hawaii.
When Timeout Boy first went to Hawaii, he was still in his mommy's belly. We went down there for a baby shower just after Christmas in 2008. It was also my first time there. I had only met a few relatives in the extended family before then, so it was a good opportunity for everyone to meet the baby daddy.
It was fun, of course. It was good to have family there and save on food and lodging. We stayed in the guest room of Gail Forcewind's aunt's house. Her uncle joked at first that I would be sleeping on the couch because we weren't married yet then.
For the baby shower, most of our gifts were cash, since we would be travelling back to New Jersey. Of course, we weren't going to be taking along a crib and a stroller on the plane. But the money really helped when it was time to buy those things. I mean, I knew having a baby wouldn't be cheap, but I was shocked at how expensive baby things actually were.
I only had a week off of work, while Gail had two. (I wanted more time off work, too, but that's another story.) So I had to leave her and Timeout Boy after a few days there. I didn't really want to. I had such a great time with the family that I seriously considered just giving up everything and just staying there. We would just forget our jobs, and I would probably work at Wal-Mart or something, I guess. (Since, the low-paying jobs at the pineapple plantations have been shipped off to even lower-paying labor in foreign countries, Wal-Mart stores have sprung up all over the islands to take advantage of the labor force. But I digress.)
Gail was smart enough to talk sense into me. I was all like, maybe we can do this until this, and if this, then this. And she was all, no because we need this, and if you do this, you can't do that and so on. And I was like, I guess so. But I kept trying to convince her until my last day there.
On the plane from Hawaii, I had a bit of a Santonio Holmes episode. I didn't take off my headphones before take off, and the flight attendant had to come back and ask me again. I reluctantly removed them. I was depressed. I didn't want to overhear the surfer dudes behind me talking about the righteous waves or whatever the heck that was about.
Even when we were finally allowed to turn on electronic devices, I couldn't get into my music anyway. I watched "It's A Wonderful Life" over and over again while I was trying to sleep. When I finally woke up - or give up trying to sleep - I watched "The Duchess" until I had to turn it off for landing. I hated travelling across the continent and just sitting there on a plane and not being able to do anything but think.
I was just so depressed. I was so afraid of bad things happening. I was terrified of not being there for my wife and baby. Thoughts like that entered my mind, and I just wished the week would be over and we would be together again. And of course, I missed them like freakin' crazy.
I kept myself occupied by moving our things from the old basement apartment to the new place. I still had a tough time sleeping. I spent my nights on the futon mattress on the floor with movies playing on Gail's laptop. They were DVDs I made of the trip, and when I couldn't stand them anymore, I played "Hellboy" on a loop all night. There wasn't any particular reason why I chose it; it just happened to be the one I had from Netflix at the time. After a few days, I switched to "Hellboy 2" on a loop. It's kind of funny but now I don't remember any of it. From either movie.
I was so relieved to finally pick up my wife from the airport. All that bad stuff I went through kind of disappeared and I became me again. It was snowing that day she arrived. It snowed off and on for a few days, actually. The cable guy came in the morning, and her flight came in the afternoon. We sat together on the futon mattress and watched the Ravens beat the Dolphins, if I remember correctly. After a few days, we bought the stroller and the crib and assembled them.
I feel for those parents who serve in the military and those who have to work overseas, and even those who have to go on business trips regularly.
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It was fun, of course. It was good to have family there and save on food and lodging. We stayed in the guest room of Gail Forcewind's aunt's house. Her uncle joked at first that I would be sleeping on the couch because we weren't married yet then.
For the baby shower, most of our gifts were cash, since we would be travelling back to New Jersey. Of course, we weren't going to be taking along a crib and a stroller on the plane. But the money really helped when it was time to buy those things. I mean, I knew having a baby wouldn't be cheap, but I was shocked at how expensive baby things actually were.
I only had a week off of work, while Gail had two. (I wanted more time off work, too, but that's another story.) So I had to leave her and Timeout Boy after a few days there. I didn't really want to. I had such a great time with the family that I seriously considered just giving up everything and just staying there. We would just forget our jobs, and I would probably work at Wal-Mart or something, I guess. (Since, the low-paying jobs at the pineapple plantations have been shipped off to even lower-paying labor in foreign countries, Wal-Mart stores have sprung up all over the islands to take advantage of the labor force. But I digress.)
Gail was smart enough to talk sense into me. I was all like, maybe we can do this until this, and if this, then this. And she was all, no because we need this, and if you do this, you can't do that and so on. And I was like, I guess so. But I kept trying to convince her until my last day there.
On the plane from Hawaii, I had a bit of a Santonio Holmes episode. I didn't take off my headphones before take off, and the flight attendant had to come back and ask me again. I reluctantly removed them. I was depressed. I didn't want to overhear the surfer dudes behind me talking about the righteous waves or whatever the heck that was about.
Even when we were finally allowed to turn on electronic devices, I couldn't get into my music anyway. I watched "It's A Wonderful Life" over and over again while I was trying to sleep. When I finally woke up - or give up trying to sleep - I watched "The Duchess" until I had to turn it off for landing. I hated travelling across the continent and just sitting there on a plane and not being able to do anything but think.
I was just so depressed. I was so afraid of bad things happening. I was terrified of not being there for my wife and baby. Thoughts like that entered my mind, and I just wished the week would be over and we would be together again. And of course, I missed them like freakin' crazy.
I kept myself occupied by moving our things from the old basement apartment to the new place. I still had a tough time sleeping. I spent my nights on the futon mattress on the floor with movies playing on Gail's laptop. They were DVDs I made of the trip, and when I couldn't stand them anymore, I played "Hellboy" on a loop all night. There wasn't any particular reason why I chose it; it just happened to be the one I had from Netflix at the time. After a few days, I switched to "Hellboy 2" on a loop. It's kind of funny but now I don't remember any of it. From either movie.
I was so relieved to finally pick up my wife from the airport. All that bad stuff I went through kind of disappeared and I became me again. It was snowing that day she arrived. It snowed off and on for a few days, actually. The cable guy came in the morning, and her flight came in the afternoon. We sat together on the futon mattress and watched the Ravens beat the Dolphins, if I remember correctly. After a few days, we bought the stroller and the crib and assembled them.
I feel for those parents who serve in the military and those who have to work overseas, and even those who have to go on business trips regularly.
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Friday, September 21, 2012
A bad dream and some regrets.
I had another bad dream last night. It wasn't a nightmare or anything. But what was terrible about it was that I was yelling at my son.
It's kind of vague now, but he was trying to take a shirt from me and I wouldn't give it to him. I was cutting off the sleeves, and I guess I didn't want him to be so close and get hurt. After a moment, he finally gave up and went away. And then I noticed that one sleeve was already cut off. So I wanted to show it to him and say, look, this is what I'm trying to do. And then that was around when I woke up.
I think what brought that dream on, is that lately I've been kind of feeling guilty about some moments in the past. Like now, he is almost fully potty trained, and I kind of feel bad about the times I've put him in timeout and yelled at him for not going to the toilet. Not all of the times, but some of the times, maybe I could have been more patient.
There was also a time when he first started to walk that I refused to carry him. We were in the park walking to the car, and sometimes he would just stop and wait for you to carry him. I guess I wasn't having such a great day that day, and I refused. I just kept walking and he kept walking after me and crying. I don't know, I kinda feel bad about that now.
There was also a time when he started noticing the noises from our neighbors. We had this one guy who used to always run up or down the steps for no real reason. So every time he would go out or come home, we would hear him rumbling on the staircase. Around ten months, Timeout Boy started to notice this and would run up to his mom or me in fear. Me, mostly, actually. (Which is one of the reasons why I lost patience in that walking incident; every time he wanted to be carried, it was by me.)
So anyway, around that time when he started noticing noises from neighbors and from cars outside etc., he started to be real clingy. For about a week or two, when I would give him a bath, he would want to hold onto me and I kept holding him back so I could wash him and not get myself wet. He got over that phase after a while, but every now and then, I still think about it and wish I comforted him more instead of just disregarding it. Maybe I should have explained to him why I didn't want him close. Or maybe I should have just jumped in the tub with him.
When he first started walking, we would take him to the playground almost everyday. He would bravely explore, and run and climb, and we had to keep up with him. One day, I got real mad because I kept calling him back to me and he didn't listen. So we went home and we never returned for months. It was near the end of summer, and then it got too cold to go there. So I feel really bad about that. When we finally came back, it seemed almost as though the place was foreign to him. He was very cautious and scared. He would crawl on the structures instead of running carefree like he used to. He still does that sometimes nowadays, about two years later.
So these are some moments that I wish I could do over. Overall, I'm happy with my parenting though. Timeout Boy is a really good kid who wants to please his parents and teachers. He is known as the helper in his day care. And we have a lot of fun and inside jokes together.
I guess I've just been noticing that Timeout Boy is growing. I think that's why I'm thinking more about when he was little. Or more little.
I love every phase. It's hard to explain. I want him to be a baby again. And I want him learning to crawl and walk again. I want him learning to talk and eat again. And at the same time, I'm glad that he is potty trained, dressing himself, knowing the sounds of letters and practicing writing. It's like I can't wait to see him grow but at the same time I don't want it to happen so fast.
I guess I just gotta try and enjoy the moment more.
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It's kind of vague now, but he was trying to take a shirt from me and I wouldn't give it to him. I was cutting off the sleeves, and I guess I didn't want him to be so close and get hurt. After a moment, he finally gave up and went away. And then I noticed that one sleeve was already cut off. So I wanted to show it to him and say, look, this is what I'm trying to do. And then that was around when I woke up.
I think what brought that dream on, is that lately I've been kind of feeling guilty about some moments in the past. Like now, he is almost fully potty trained, and I kind of feel bad about the times I've put him in timeout and yelled at him for not going to the toilet. Not all of the times, but some of the times, maybe I could have been more patient.
There was also a time when he first started to walk that I refused to carry him. We were in the park walking to the car, and sometimes he would just stop and wait for you to carry him. I guess I wasn't having such a great day that day, and I refused. I just kept walking and he kept walking after me and crying. I don't know, I kinda feel bad about that now.
There was also a time when he started noticing the noises from our neighbors. We had this one guy who used to always run up or down the steps for no real reason. So every time he would go out or come home, we would hear him rumbling on the staircase. Around ten months, Timeout Boy started to notice this and would run up to his mom or me in fear. Me, mostly, actually. (Which is one of the reasons why I lost patience in that walking incident; every time he wanted to be carried, it was by me.)
So anyway, around that time when he started noticing noises from neighbors and from cars outside etc., he started to be real clingy. For about a week or two, when I would give him a bath, he would want to hold onto me and I kept holding him back so I could wash him and not get myself wet. He got over that phase after a while, but every now and then, I still think about it and wish I comforted him more instead of just disregarding it. Maybe I should have explained to him why I didn't want him close. Or maybe I should have just jumped in the tub with him.
When he first started walking, we would take him to the playground almost everyday. He would bravely explore, and run and climb, and we had to keep up with him. One day, I got real mad because I kept calling him back to me and he didn't listen. So we went home and we never returned for months. It was near the end of summer, and then it got too cold to go there. So I feel really bad about that. When we finally came back, it seemed almost as though the place was foreign to him. He was very cautious and scared. He would crawl on the structures instead of running carefree like he used to. He still does that sometimes nowadays, about two years later.
So these are some moments that I wish I could do over. Overall, I'm happy with my parenting though. Timeout Boy is a really good kid who wants to please his parents and teachers. He is known as the helper in his day care. And we have a lot of fun and inside jokes together.
I guess I've just been noticing that Timeout Boy is growing. I think that's why I'm thinking more about when he was little. Or more little.
I love every phase. It's hard to explain. I want him to be a baby again. And I want him learning to crawl and walk again. I want him learning to talk and eat again. And at the same time, I'm glad that he is potty trained, dressing himself, knowing the sounds of letters and practicing writing. It's like I can't wait to see him grow but at the same time I don't want it to happen so fast.
I guess I just gotta try and enjoy the moment more.
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