Jul
Waiting for Disney
I’ve always been the type of person who needs something to look forward to. I guess we all need that to an extent, but for me it’s a pretty substantial feeling. While watching a rerun of Jon and Kate Plus Eight, I found myself getting very excited for the Gosselin family as they headed south to Disney World. The children had a special calender on the wall, counting down to the big event. I watched all the packing and organizing, feeling as though I too was getting ready for the fun.
Disney World is a place very much imagined to me. Most of my family and friend’s have visited the Magic Kingdom, and regaled me with stories of its magnificence. I have never had the privilege. Like a child I fantasize about the characters, the rides, the music and the laughter. I’ve been near Orlando, actually drove through it once, but we weren’t able to stay. The tell tale signs of Disney were all around, and that was a great feeling in itself.
If I were planning a trip to see Mickey and friends, I too would be anxiously crossing off the days on my calender. I have always needed something to look forward to. Things to dread? Oh I’ve plenty of those. But that big family vacation, that special concert, moving day, a new baby, a party, etc. Those are events that seem to make each day leading up to them that much more exciting. Everything seems rather surreal, because you know your BIG day is around the corner.
Then, as quickly as it arrives, it is gone. And you find yourself needing something else to look forward to.
Many say that each day should be a reward, that each day should be the thing we look forward to. We shouldn’t need the certainty of some extraordinary event.
I am desperately trying to find “mini” vacations, small experiences that I can look forward to. My mind is very muddy these days, and James pointed out that my blog has been downright depressing. All I know is, I’m trying to find some solid ground within my psyche, and I will do it the best way I know how.
Someone pointed out to me that you shouldn’t have to apologize for who you are, providing that who you are is a reasonably decent human being. Well you know what? I am a good person. I am flawed but kind hearted. I fuck up on a regular basis. That’s my cross to bear. I regret when my lessons are learned at the expense of someone else’s happiness. I don’t like that at all, to be quite honest. But to an extent, it seems unavoidable. People in our lives will not always like the choices we make, the steps we take, or even the people we ultimately become. They then get to decide for themselves if we are still worth loving. I know I am. I don’t go out of my way to hurt people. I am immature but when it comes down to it, I can step up to the plate and take care of business. I’ve helped take care of my grandmother’s and my mother-in-law for many years.  If people need me for something, they know they can count on me. I’ve got good qualities, and if my immaturity is the worst of the worst, so be it. I’m really and truly tired for feeling like less than a person because I laugh too loud, I play too often. So what. I know people who maintain careers, families and homes and still manage to be major assholes. Forgive me if my aspirations do not lie there.
I’m rather tired of living vicariously through everyone. I want to get to Disney World. I will eventually…just have to figure out how.
Jun
The Rope
The news of Michael Jackson’s passing was rather shocking for me, as well as sad. I watched as concerned fans surrounded the UCLA medical center, anxiously awaiting any news that might calm their fears. The reality set in for them quickly. Candles were lit, signs made and vigil’s arranged. The state, the country and quickly the world began to show signs of mourning.
It wasn’t until two days later that the finality of his death caught up with me. Michael didn’t just represent amazing music and talent – for me personally, he represented a beautiful, fragile piece of my childhood that was now gone for good. The year the Thriller album hit the shelves, I was in full MJ mode. The glove, the jacket, the socks, the posters. My friend’s and I talked about him, dreamt of meeting him, and even my parent’s shared my love of his music. His voice filled our home each weekend, when dad would put the the album on and turn the speakers on upstairs. My grandparent’s were alive and healthy. My cousin’s were like my sisters. Mom and dad were getting along well. Summer days were long, my pink Huffy took me everywhere I needed to go. Life was good.
In the years to follow, my uncle would die of a gunshot wound to the head. My grandfather, lost without his son, eventually died of a broken heart. Mom and dad were on the verge of divorce. My cousin’s and I became estranged, and eventually lost touch completely. My dad moved us to another state, where I knew no one and nothing. My grandmother ended up in a nursing home. Nothing was certain except uncertainty.
Michael represented, for me, that last glimmer of innocence. The spontaneity and joie de vivre that children experience so naturally. I recognize that now.
When I was young, after taking my bath, I often liked to pretend there was an invisible rope hanging above me, that I could reach up and grab. This rope would lift me to my feet when I didn’t have the strength to stand. As another part of my past fades away, that rope seems more and more imagined and less likely to ever reappear. I’m told that now, as an adult, it’s my responsibility to find my own strength, make my own way.
I’m not sure how to do that, or if I even can.
Jun
“Loser” has one S, correct?
Well I took a test, an online test, to see if I qualify for a degree. This is no ordinary school, this is one of those “get your education FAST” type of scenarios. It’s legitimate, accredited and everything, but still not quite as prestigious as an actual school.
I scored 66.7% out of a necessary 70%. Wow.
It’s bad enough to feel as though I’ve never quite made the cut in the real world..but to think that I lack the intelligence to qualify for some “life experience”, $200 degree program…that stings.
It’s my own fault, yes, I accept that. I didn’t apply myself in school. I didn’t pay attention. And now, for various reasons, I lack the finances to truly pursue my education. I just believed that education was something that is always available to the masses, that if you truly want to learn, someone somewhere will be willing to help you.
I’ve basically been told, in one simple paragraph, that I’m not quite smart enough to get a framed print out bearing a school crest and my name.
Ouch.
Jun
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Jun
It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I don’t feel fine.
I think that I’ve learned enough about, well, everything, to know that I’m pretty much the most misunderstood person on the face of this planet. I have wonderful intentions that seem to nose dive, I have huge dreams that seem to snuff out the sun. At every turn when I feel like I’m working for the good of a situation, trying to better myself, I am consistently reminded that “No Jennifer…bad idea. Your ideas have merit, but when put into action, they pretty much suck.”
I’m looking into voluntary commital. I see they have rec night.
To everyone I love, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you based on my ineptitude as a human being. To everyone who hates me, maybe you were right all along.
Since I was a little girl, all I’ve ever truly wanted was to be happy and healthy and to be a mother. I’ve experienced all of these things. Now I have to decide how much my happiness is worth. Worth another’s? I’m not sure I’m that valuable anymore.
Jun
Tobi’s String
We have a Calico cat named Tobi. More appropriately, she has us. She was found in a broken down shed in our tiny back yard, her mother having wandered off with one of the litter, leaving Tobi and another kitten behind. We rescued both kittens, but eventually gave one away. Tobi, with her patchwork of russet, black and ivory fur, captured our hearts and instantly made a place in our home.
I named her Oktobrianna, then Oktobi, then finally settled with the more conventional “Tobi”. She spent most of kittenhood pouncing, eating and sleeping, as kittens do. By the time she was a year old, with her penchant for urinating on all of the furniture while hiking her rear end in the air, we knew a call to the vet was in order. She was spayed and seemed to comfortably settle back into her old personality.
Tobi has always been closest to James. It’s the classic story of mother and child. I fed her, cleaned her, played with her and yet the father receives the accolades. In any event, the two quickly became bonded for life. Tobi was and is James’ shadow. Where he goes, she follows. Her temperament varies from placid and cuddly to irritable and standoffish. No matter her mood, James knows how to work around it and they are fast friends once again.
One day, a trip to the pet store yielded a bag of colorful, noisy cat toys. We have another cat named Louis, who is old and sleepy more often than not, so he rarely shows interest in playtime. Tobi on the other hand, was exuberant. Yet, for all of the plastic balls and feathered figures, the item Tobi latched onto was a piece of blue twine. This became known as her “baby”. She carried it everywhere. If we went upstairs, and she stayed down, within ten minutes we would hear the familiar sound of her muffled howling, and suddenly she would enter the room with her baby in tow, dangling between her fangs. It was as though she was presenting us with an offering, a token of friendship. This became a nightly routine.
Years went by and the baby became more and more frazzled. The ends frayed, the color faded. Tobi seemed to lose interest as her baby uncoiled from its original shape. We would find it in the same spot, day after day. She no longer meowed loudly to announce the arrival of her companion. Instead, she moved onto new toys. I chalked it up to her being fickle.
I have found that many times throughout my life, I’ve felt an attachment to people and places, and like Tobi, experienced a separation of those feelings. We can’t always pinpoint why or how this happens, only that it occasionally does.
About a month ago, I noticed Tobi climbing the stairs with something in her mouth. Out of the shadow, I could see she was carrying her baby once again. She dropped it in the bedroom doorway and hopped up on the bed. It was a start.
This year has brought many twists and turns, and though difficult at times, I know it is all necessary for my growth as a human being. Far be it from me to quote a Miley Cyrus lyric, but she does make a good point in her recent song, “The Climb”. The climb is perhaps the most important part of your struggle. Getting there is the part the shapes us, changes us.
I still have my string, and its still just as beautiful to me as Tobi’s is to her.
Apr
Wrong Turn
When you give and give of yourself, at some point you realize you need to slow down before you’ve nothing left to give. I wouldn’t mind doing this if not for the sad reality that some people just aren’t worth your effort.
There was someone in my life whom I initially believed to be a solid friend. The kind you brag about, gush over. At the time, their behavior was very much indicative of someone I could count on. I needed that. I still do. Yet as time went by, they would pull away and disappear for months on end. I tried to be encouraging, but I found myself in a place where I too needed a shoulder – and they were usually nowhere to be found. After almost a year of this game, them coming and going with the same nonchalance and frequency as the wind, I basically gave up.
I figured if they ever came back around, we could revamp our relationship and become closer. I’ve now received an obnoxiously loud indication that this is not going to happen, and to be honest, I no longer want this to happen. I should be more disenchanted about this, but the truth is I find I’m rather exultant. Now I know, now I’ve seen the reality of the situation. This person has never been a friend. They used me when they needed me, and when they made the command decision that I’m not quite as “cool” as their other friends, they’ve once again ceased communications with me. This is a person who’s life is nothing but chaos, and I served as a sort of sedative to calm them and to occasionally help rearrange the disorder in their world. Bottom line, I was a better friend to them than they have ever once been to me. That, I am willing to accept.
What I am not willing to do is continue down the same path alongside them.
Good luck.
Apr
Can You Hear Me Now?
James recently sent me a video from the TED talks. It dealt with the “culture of availability” and how the invention of modern messaging devices has removed the humanity in our interactions.
To a great extent, I agree with the sentiment. I think it reaches beyond cell phones, pagers, Blackberries and the like. If you asked someone what they would prefer: to send an email or to write a handwritten letter, which do you think they would honestly choose? Yet at the same time, if you asked those very people what they would prefer to receive, I’d venture to say they would choose the handwritten letter.
Using a cell phone while driving can certainly be dangerous, but beyond that, I think we’re talking extreme usage before it becomes a real social issue. If we say it is impolite to text while with someone, when should we do it? Any time there is a potential for conversation? And not in bed, because even though the other person may be asleep or at least not speaking to you, that is considered poor taste as well. If someone is talking on a phone, it is almost impossible for them to carry on a conversation with you. Not so true with texting. Do people overdo it? Sure! But it also comes down to another issue – the actual interaction between two or more people. Are they both “in” the conversation. Does it hold interest to both of them? Are they equally engaged? I think before we put all the blame on modern technology, we need to take a closer look at the quality of our verbal communications.
Some people would suggest that it is less meaningful when we create an e-card for someone. Cheaper. Faster. Impersonal. But what if the person sending it was very creative? What if they actually built a page on their website and dedicated it to you, in lieu of a card? Still impersonal? At this point, it becomes a matter of perception.
I know someone who constantly rolls their eyes and complains when other people get a new “toy”, a new gadget. They will tell you how unnecessary it is, how ridiculous. That is, until they purchase that gadget. Suddenly it has merit. As James points out, it’s convenience ethics. It’s easy to say that something is bad if you aren’t a party to that behavior or situation. People who have large social networks and use electronic devices on a daily basis, rarely complain about others who do.
I do think we rely heavily on methods of communication that keep us at a distance from one another. It’s a lost art. We’ve forgotten how to do it, and along the way perhaps decided that we are no longer interested in doing it. What matters most to me is the quality of time spent with people. There is not one person I know who does not own a computer, cell phone, iPod or other mechanism, with the exception of my mother-in-law. She has no need for any of these things, and wouldn’t know how to use them if she did. Instead, she’d like to talk to you about baseball, family, or even the weather. What does the majority of her family do in her company? They tune her out and talk to someone else.
The human equivalent of text messaging.
Apr
Getting A Little Tired…
In my life, I’ve met several people whom remind others that being forthright and concise in your words and actions is the only way to be. I’ve also taken note, most recently, that these people are very bad about following their own advice.
I’ve not been endowed by my Creator with the gift of speech, and only occassionally will I admit to being semi-literate. I can’t preach to the masses and have them hanging on my every word. To be fair I’ve never tried, but I just don’t seem to possess that certain quality needed to keep people enthralled or entertained. I can be silly and I often have – what I consider to be – important things to say. Important to me alone.
One thing I can say about me is this: I communicate. I don’t shut down. I don’t walk away from arguments. In fact I’ve been known to have them for hours at a time. Is this beneficial? I don’t know, to be honest. But I do know that I am willing to talk. I will talk for days if it will accomplish anything. And even if a resolution is not made, my stance on the issue will be made quite clear.
Cowards walk away. The brave stay and fight, even and most often when it gets ugly.
I don’t go to MySpace, Facebook, any of the social networking sites, and leave verbal fox traps behind. If you have something to say, say it. I’ve spent the better part of year being brutally honest about things that would drive many people to the brink, yet I did it and dealt with the hurt, anger, sadness and grief that accompanied this honesty.
When people suggest, as they often do, that I am far too immature, that I need to grow up in many ways, that I don’t live in the “real world”, I would like to point out that I am the most emotionally honest person I know.  I don’t profess to be more enlightened than the next person. I’m definitely not the smartest, or most educated. But when it comes to being in touch with my feelings as a woman, as a human, I am completely there.
Mar
Stumble Jenny and the Foggy Day
Some days you wake and everything makes sense, before your feet even hit the ground. Those rare days when the sun and the moon and the planets are all in a perfect alignment. Today is not one of those days.
I am finding that the older I get, the less I understand. I’d always assumed it would work the other way around. Maybe I’ve simply tried too hard to sort it all out. I’m not sure.
I am blessed with a person in my life, who has taught me much about this nonsensical world, and even more about my place in it. They have taught me that you can dissect and and scrutinize and ask “Why??” a million times, but there are some things in this universe that are simply without answer. For someone like me, that is an appallingly difficult task – not asking “Why??”, that is. I need to know what makes people tick, I always have. I need reason. I need explanation. But as much as I’d like it, sometimes it simply cannot be.
I went to the doctor this morning. I sat there on the table, waiting for him to come in and get the unpleasant ordeal over with, and I realized a few things on my own.
I am blessed with an extraordinary family. They of all people do not understand half of why I do what I do, but they love and support me just the same.
I am blessed with some terrific friends, precious few, who seem to truly have my best interests at heart.
Life can be scary. Life can most definitely be confusing. I’m learning as I go. I have certainly messed up along the way. I pray you forgive me that. I pray you know that my heart and soul is true.
I have stumbled and I pray that someday you will still be there to help me stand.