Sunday, December 17, 2006
Merry Christmas.....to ME!!!!!
Finally bought our new TV. I'm so excited. I actually have never bought a TV before.
You read correctly, NEVER.
The only TV I owned was a hand-me-down from my parents when I moved into the dorms and they had gotten a new TV for themselves. When that one stopped working at the age of about 15 years old, I lived without a TV for about a year. Then, it's all been all about sharing from my roommates. First, someone who I rented a room out to, and now my permanent roommate, a.k.a. the wife.
I spent the last 5-6 months making sure about the specifications that I wanted (see blog from 9/18/2006) and researching the various models that fit the specifications. Then came the haggling. But not with the salesperson. The salesman was trusty OG and he made it easy to buy the TV 'cuz he just charged us the wholesale price. No, the haggling was with Mandy. Apparently, anything over 40 inches is too big for our house. And having enough resolution to count dots on a ladybug's back is too detailed. And a sound system powerful enough to knock our cats backwards would be too loud. But that's OK because we finally bought the thing.
In actuality, Mandy was very reasonable. And when I look back on it, I was probably just stuck in the whole "bigger, better, louder is better" thing despite cost.
But I can't wait. It gets delivered on Thursday. And we bought a new TV stand, but that doesn't get delivered until even later. I think I might get the shakes just from the excitement. Maybe I'll prescribe myself something to calm myself down in the meantime.....
|
You read correctly, NEVER.
The only TV I owned was a hand-me-down from my parents when I moved into the dorms and they had gotten a new TV for themselves. When that one stopped working at the age of about 15 years old, I lived without a TV for about a year. Then, it's all been all about sharing from my roommates. First, someone who I rented a room out to, and now my permanent roommate, a.k.a. the wife.
I spent the last 5-6 months making sure about the specifications that I wanted (see blog from 9/18/2006) and researching the various models that fit the specifications. Then came the haggling. But not with the salesperson. The salesman was trusty OG and he made it easy to buy the TV 'cuz he just charged us the wholesale price. No, the haggling was with Mandy. Apparently, anything over 40 inches is too big for our house. And having enough resolution to count dots on a ladybug's back is too detailed. And a sound system powerful enough to knock our cats backwards would be too loud. But that's OK because we finally bought the thing.
In actuality, Mandy was very reasonable. And when I look back on it, I was probably just stuck in the whole "bigger, better, louder is better" thing despite cost.
But I can't wait. It gets delivered on Thursday. And we bought a new TV stand, but that doesn't get delivered until even later. I think I might get the shakes just from the excitement. Maybe I'll prescribe myself something to calm myself down in the meantime.....
Labels: TV
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Shed a tear...then smile
Growing up, I was taught not to cry. Crying is a sign of weakness. People will make fun of you if you cry.
Being in medicine, I often feel that I should remain strong in front of a patient. We've had several lectures about the delivery of bad news, about how to comfort a patient, clearly communicating information, listening.
Sometimes, though, I feel like I'm the one who needs comforting.
A very close friend died this week. She was as close to our family as one can be without being related by blood. Her son was a groomsman in my wedding. Memories of growing up are full of times where she was sitting at our kitchen table or I was hanging out in her basement. She lived a beautiful life, raising a tremendous family, living as a good friend to many. While her life was not without tragedy, she lived with a flair and energy that couldn't be matched.
The death was not unexpected. Knowing the stage of her illness and the symptoms she had, it was clear the prognosis was poor. Despite the expectation, her passing still came as a shock. A shock to my emotions. As much as I could read about the condition, I was not able to find in books the rush of sorrow I felt when I finally heard the news.
My studies have been to determine answers to diseases and conditions. What about these questions that I am unable to answer? How can someone who lived so vigorously be taken so early? How can tragedy strike a family not once, but twice?
After the questions ran through my head, I started to think of the memories. And I began to realize that most of the memories of her were happy memories. Her smile. The gut-busting barbecues at her home. Her infectious laugh. My gosh, her laugh. So many nights, me and my siblings would fall asleep to the sound of her and our parents laughing up a storm, telling story after story. And though they often spoke in Tagalog and I couldn't understand much of what they were saying, you could always tell how funny or how serious the stories were because she was so expressive.
The only sad moment was when her younger son had suddenly died. It left an indelible mark on her. It spoke to her strong sense of family. The way she fawned over her children. She always seemed to be making plans to see another relative somewhere in the world. No place was too far to travel if it meant seeing her family.
She truly lived her life. Thinking of how fulfilled she seemed with everything she did made me turn inward this week. How can I live? Do I touch people positively with every interaction the way she did? Can I express that energy? Am I that strong with my family?
It gives me something to strive for. And it allows me to remember her. By thinking of all that she stood for, it gives me strength to be a better person. That will be how I honor her.
You will be missed, Tita Gemma. And never forgotten.
|
Being in medicine, I often feel that I should remain strong in front of a patient. We've had several lectures about the delivery of bad news, about how to comfort a patient, clearly communicating information, listening.
Sometimes, though, I feel like I'm the one who needs comforting.
A very close friend died this week. She was as close to our family as one can be without being related by blood. Her son was a groomsman in my wedding. Memories of growing up are full of times where she was sitting at our kitchen table or I was hanging out in her basement. She lived a beautiful life, raising a tremendous family, living as a good friend to many. While her life was not without tragedy, she lived with a flair and energy that couldn't be matched.
The death was not unexpected. Knowing the stage of her illness and the symptoms she had, it was clear the prognosis was poor. Despite the expectation, her passing still came as a shock. A shock to my emotions. As much as I could read about the condition, I was not able to find in books the rush of sorrow I felt when I finally heard the news.
My studies have been to determine answers to diseases and conditions. What about these questions that I am unable to answer? How can someone who lived so vigorously be taken so early? How can tragedy strike a family not once, but twice?
After the questions ran through my head, I started to think of the memories. And I began to realize that most of the memories of her were happy memories. Her smile. The gut-busting barbecues at her home. Her infectious laugh. My gosh, her laugh. So many nights, me and my siblings would fall asleep to the sound of her and our parents laughing up a storm, telling story after story. And though they often spoke in Tagalog and I couldn't understand much of what they were saying, you could always tell how funny or how serious the stories were because she was so expressive.
The only sad moment was when her younger son had suddenly died. It left an indelible mark on her. It spoke to her strong sense of family. The way she fawned over her children. She always seemed to be making plans to see another relative somewhere in the world. No place was too far to travel if it meant seeing her family.
She truly lived her life. Thinking of how fulfilled she seemed with everything she did made me turn inward this week. How can I live? Do I touch people positively with every interaction the way she did? Can I express that energy? Am I that strong with my family?
It gives me something to strive for. And it allows me to remember her. By thinking of all that she stood for, it gives me strength to be a better person. That will be how I honor her.
You will be missed, Tita Gemma. And never forgotten.
