Climbing on the Words

The Rory Gilmore Reading List

2011-12-07T07:44:00.001-08:00

1984 by George Orwell
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon
An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser
Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
Archidamian War by Donald Kagan
The Art of Fiction by Henry James
The Art of War by Sun Tzu
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Atonement by Ian McEwan
Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy
The Awakening by Kate Chopin
Babe by Dick King-Smith
Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women by Susan Faludi
Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress by Dai Sijie
Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
Beloved by Toni Morrison
Beowulf: A New Verse Translation by Seamus Heaney
The Bhagava Gita
The Bielski Brothers: The True Story of Three Men Who Defied the Nazis, Built a Village in the Forest, and Saved 1,200 Jews by Peter Duffy
Bitch in Praise of Difficult Women by Elizabeth Wurtzel
A Bolt from the Blue and Other Essays by Mary McCarthy
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Brick Lane by Monica Ali
Bridgadoon by Alan Jay Lerner
Candide by Voltaire
The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer
Carrie by Stephen King
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White
The Children’s Hour by Lillian Hellman
Christine by Stephen King
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
The Code of the Woosters by P.G. Wodehouse
The Collected Short Stories by Eudora Welty
The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty by Eudora Welty
A Comedy of Errors by William Shakespeare
Complete Novels by Dawn Powell
The Complete Poems by Anne Sexton
Complete Stories by Dorothy Parker
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas père
Cousin Bette by Honor’e de Balzac
Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber
The Crucible by Arthur Miller
Cujo by Stephen King
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon – read – 2009
Daughter of Fortune by Isabel Allende
David and Lisa by Dr Theodore Issac Rubin M.D
David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
The Da Vinci -Code by Dan Brown – read
Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol
Demons by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller
Deenie by Judy Blume
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America by Erik Larson
The Dirt: Confessions of the World’s Most Notorious Rock Band by Tommy Lee, Vince Neil, Mick Mars and Nikki Sixx
The Divine Comedy by Dante
The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells
Don Quijote by Cervantes
Driving Miss Daisy by Alfred Uhrv
Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson - read – 2009
Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales & Poems by Edgar Allan Poe
Eleanor Roosevelt by Blanche Wiesen Cook
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe
Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters by Mark Dunn
Eloise by Kay Thompson
Emily the Strange by Roger Reger
Emma by Jane Austen – read
Empire Falls by Richard Russo
Encyclopedia Brown: Boy Detective by Donald J. Sobol
Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton
Ethics by Spinoza
Europe through the Back Door, 2003 by Rick Steves
Eva Luna by Isabel Allende
Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer
Extravagance by Gary Krist
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Fahrenheit 9/11 by Michael Moore
The Fall of the Athenian Empire by Donald Kagan
Fat Land: How Americans Became the Fattest People in the World by Greg Critser
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas by Hunter S. Thompson
The Fellowship of the Ring: Book 1 of The Lord of the Ring by J. R. R. Tolkien (TBR) –
Fiddler on the Roof by Joseph Stein
The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom
Finnegan’s Wake by James Joyce
Fletch by Gregory McDonald
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Franny and Zooey by J. D. Salinger
Freaky Friday by Mary Rodgers
Galapagos by Kurt Vonnegut
Gender Trouble by Judith Butler
George W. Bushism: The Slate Book of the Accidental Wit and Wisdom of our 43rd President by Jacob Weisberg
Gidget by Fredrick Kohner
Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen
The Gnostic Gospels by Elaine Pagels
The Godfather: Book 1 by Mario Puzo
The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy
Goldilocks and the Three Bears by Alvin Granowsky
Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
The Good Soldier by Ford Maddox Ford
The Gospel According to Judy Bloom
The Graduate by Charles Webb
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
The Group by Mary McCarthy
Hamlet by William Shakespeare
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J. K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad (TBR)
Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders by Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry (TBR)
Henry IV, part I by William Shakespeare
Henry IV, part II by William Shakespeare
Henry V by William Shakespeare
High Fidelity by Nick Hornby
The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire by Edward Gibbon
Holidays on Ice: Stories by David Sedaris
The Holy Barbarians by Lawrence Lipton
House of Sand and Fog by Andre Dubus III (Lpr)
The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende
How to Breathe Underwater by Julie Orringer
How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss
How the Light Gets in by M. J. Hyland
Howl by Allen Gingsburg
The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo
The Iliad by Homer
I’m with the Band by Pamela des Barres
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
Inferno by Dante
Inherit the Wind by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee
Iron Weed by William J. Kennedy
It Takes a Village by Hillary Clinton
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare
The Jumping Frog by Mark Twain
The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
Just a Couple of Days by Tony Vigorito
The Kitchen Boy: A Novel of the Last Tsar by Robert Alexander
Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly by Anthony Bourdain
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
Lady Chatterleys’ Lover by D. H. Lawrence
The Last Empire: Essays 1992-2000 by Gore Vidal
Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman
The Legend of Bagger Vance by Steven Pressfield
Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis
Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them by Al Franken
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens
The Little Locksmith by Katharine Butler Hathaway
The Little Match Girl by Hans Christian Andersen
Little Women by Louisa May Alcott – on my book pile
Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton
Lord of the Flies by William Golding
The Lottery: And Other Stories by Shirley Jackson
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold – read
The Love Story by Erich Segal
Macbeth by William Shakespeare – read
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
The Manticore by Robertson Davies
Marathon Man by William Goldman
The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov
Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter by Simone de Beauvoir
Memoirs of General W. T. Sherman by William Tecumseh Sherman
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
The Meaning of Consuelo by Judith Ortiz Cofer
Mencken’s Chrestomathy by H. R. Mencken
The Merry Wives of Windsro by William Shakespeare
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
The Miracle Worker by William Gibson
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
The Mojo Collection: The Ultimate Music Companion by Jim Irvin
Moliere: A Biography by Hobart Chatfield Taylor
A Monetary History of the United States by Milton Friedman
Monsieur Proust by Celeste Albaret
A Month Of Sundays: Searching For The Spirit And My Sister by Julie Mars
A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
Mutiny on the Bounty by Charles Nordhoff and James Norman Hall
My Lai 4: A Report on the Massacre and It’s Aftermath by Seymour M. Hersh
My Life as Author and Editor by H. R. Mencken
My Life in Orange: Growing Up with the Guru by Tim Guest
Myra Waldo’s Travel and Motoring Guide to Europe, 1978 by Myra Waldo
My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult
The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco
The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri
The Nanny Diaries by Emma McLaughlin
Nervous System: Or, Losing My Mind in Literature by Jan Lars Jensen
New Poems of Emily Dickinson by Emily Dickinson
The New Way Things Work by David Macaulay
Nickel and Dimed by Barbara Ehrenreich
Night by Elie Wiesel
Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism by William E. Cain, Laurie A. Finke, Barbara E. Johnson, John P. McGowan
Novels 1930-1942: Dance Night/Come Back to Sorrento, Turn, Magic Wheel/Angels on Toast/A Time to be Born by Dawn Powell
Notes of a Dirty Old Man by Charles Bukowski
Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
Old School by Tobias Wolff
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The Opposite of Fate: Memories of a Writing Life by Amy Tan
Oracle Night by Paul Auster
Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood
Othello by Shakespeare
Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
The Outbreak of the Peloponnesian War by Donald Kagan
Out of Africa by Isac Dineson
The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton
A Passage to India by E.M. Forster
The Peace of Nicias and the Sicilian Expedition by Donald Kagan
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
Peyton Place by Grace Metalious
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Pigs at the Trough by Arianna Huffington
Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi
Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain
The Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby
The Portable Dorothy Parker by Dorothy Parker
The Portable Nietzche by Fredrich Nietzche
The Price of Loyalty: George W. Bush, the White House, and the Education of Paul O’Neill by Ron Suskind
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen – read
Property by Valerie Martin
Pushkin: A Biography by T. J. Binyon
Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw
Quattrocento by James Mckean
A Quiet Storm by Rachel Howzell Hall
Rapunzel by Grimm Brothers – read
The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe
The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin
The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Rescuing Patty Hearst: Memories From a Decade Gone Mad by Virginia Holman
The Return of the King: The Lord of the Rings Book 3 by J. R. R. Tolkien (TBR) – read
R Is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton
Rita Hayworth by Stephen King
Robert’s Rules of Order by Henry Robert
Roman Holiday by Edith Wharton
Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf
A Room with a View by E. M. Forster
Rosemary’s Baby by Ira Levin
The Rough Guide to Europe, 2003 Edition
Sacred Time by Ursula Hegi
Sanctuary by William Faulkner
Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay by Nancy Milford
Say Goodbye to Daisy Miller by Henry James
The Scarecrow of Oz by Frank L. Baum
The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne – read
Seabiscuit: An American Legend by Laura Hillenbrand
The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir
The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd
Secrets of the Flesh: A Life of Colette by Judith Thurman
Selected Hotels of Europe
Selected Letters of Dawn Powell: 1913-1965 by Dawn Powell
Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen
A Separate Peace by John Knowles
Several Biographies of Winston Churchill
Sexus by Henry Miller
The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Shane by Jack Shaefer
The Shining by Stephen King
Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse
S Is for Silence by Sue Grafton
Slaughter-house Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Small Island by Andrea Levy – on my book pile
Snows of Kilimanjaro by Ernest Hemingway
Snow White and Rose Red by Grimm Brothers – read
Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy: Lord and Peasant in the Making of the Modern World by Barrington Moore
The Song of Names by Norman Lebrecht
Song of the Simple Truth: The Complete Poems of Julia de Burgos by Julia de Burgos
The Song Reader by Lisa Tucker
Songbook by Nick Hornby
The Sonnets by William Shakespeare
Sonnets from the Portuegese by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Sophie’s Choice by William Styron
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov
Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach
The Story of My Life by Helen Keller
A Streetcar Named Desiree by Tennessee Williams
Stuart Little by E. B. White
Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
Swann’s Way by Marcel Proust
Swimming with Giants: My Encounters with Whales, Dolphins and Seals by Anne Collett
Sybil by Flora Rheta Schreiber
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens
Tender Is The Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Term of Endearment by Larry McMurtry
Time and Again by Jack Finney
The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger – read
To Have and Have Not by Ernest Hemingway
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee – read
The Tragedy of Richard III by William Shakespeare
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
The Trial by Franz Kafka
The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters by Elisabeth Robinson
Truth & Beauty: A Friendship by Ann Patchett
Tuesdays with Morrie by Mitch Albom
Ulysses by James Joyce
The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath 1950-1962 by Sylvia Plath
Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe
Unless by Carol Shields
Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann
The Vanishing Newspaper by Philip Meyers
Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray
Velvet Underground’s The Velvet Underground and Nico (Thirty Three and a Third series) by Joe Harvard
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
Walt Disney’s Bambi by Felix Salten
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
We Owe You Nothing – Punk Planet: The Collected Interviews edited by Daniel Sinker
What Colour is Your Parachute? 2005 by Richard Nelson Bolles
What Happened to Baby Jane by Henry Farrell
When the Emperor Was Divine by Julie Otsuka
Who Moved My Cheese? Spencer Johnson
Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee – read
Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire
The Wizard of Oz by Frank L. Baum
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
The Yearling by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

Camel Straights

2010-09-03T07:54:00.000-07:00

I have often thought I was born in the wrong era. The heart I have does not fit kindly into this one. I am at my worst an idealist and this cuts at my heels more frequently than I desire. My actions at times get lost in translation and when I try to interpret I seem to dig a deeper hole of confusion. My ultimate goal is usually one with no motives other than kindness. I have to reconcile to the fact that my mind and heart speak a dialect that is not recognized by many. I am a fool to forget this and regret it frequently when my memory fails me. I have spent a large majority of my life being "emotionally unavailable" as my mother so kindly puts it and my default is always to return to that setting. Isn't that the easiest thing to do? If you numb yourself to the pain of life don't you also numb yourself to the beauty?

I told my friend Craig last night that I felt too old for all of this. It is so much easier to be jaded and ignore everything, but ultimately that is not me. I make ridiculous mistakes ("seemed like a good idea at the time"), regret, and learn. I used to often quote that,

"There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a Quarter-Pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle... and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt."

I don't really believe that, but it sure sounds nice to say. So I will ride my own mortification and pray there is a statute of limitations on embarrassing incidents. Plus, Quarter-Pounders are awful.

A Hole in the Wall

2010-08-26T14:01:00.000-07:00

(excerpts from The Last Letter)

I'll make bouquets of your favorite song lyrics and poems.

We will watch the sun rise when the cold won't leave your bones.

I won't shy, I will follow you into the darkness. I'll sleigh the demons.

I'll see the things no one else does, there is beauty in your frailty.

I'll name the freckles in your eyes, and brand them in my heart.

"Remember that time I drove all night, just to see you in the morning."

If you lock me out, I'll cut a hole in the wall. I will find your redemption.

I will live on each word you write, and they my only sustenance.

I will live in the cinder of your ashes.

Sweet Dreams

2010-08-24T16:35:00.000-07:00

I can't sleep. Insomnia has a starring role in my life currently. I can't seem to turn my brain off. My mind races to things that I cannot do anything about at 3:30 in the morning. Even knowing this I find no solace.

I love the correspondence between Rainer Maria Rilke and Lou. Since my creativity is lacking here is a poem he wrote for her.

To Lou Andreas-Salome

I held myself too open, I forgot
that outside not just things exist and animals
fully at ease in themselves, whose eyes
reach from their lives' roundedness no differently
than portraits do from frames; forgot that I
with all I did incessantly crammed
looks into myself; looks, opinion, curiosity.
Who knows: perhaps eyes form in space
and look on everywhere. Ah, only plunged toward you
does my face cease being on display, grows
into you and twines on darkly, endlessly,
into your sheltered heart.

As one puts a handkerchief before pent-in-breath-
no: as one presses it against a wound
out of which the whole of life, in a single gush,
wants to stream, I held you to me: I saw you
turn red from me. How could anyone express
what took place between us? We made up for everything
there was never time for. I matured strangely
in every impulse of unperformed youth,
and you, love, had wildest childhood over my heart.

Memory won't suffice here: from those moments
there must be layers of pure existence
on my being's floor, a precipitate
from that immensely overfilled solution.

For I don't think back; all that I am
stirs me because of you. I don't invent you
at sadly cooled-off places from which
you've gone away; even your not being there
is warm with you and more real and more
than a privation. Longing leads out too often
into vagueness. Why should I cast myself, when,
for all I know, your influence falls on me,
gently, like moonlight on a window seat.

Such Great Heights

2010-08-20T21:07:00.000-07:00

(I wrote what my life would be like after winning the "Living a Better Story Blog Contest" from Donald Miller. I tried optimism on for size.)

I remember in the mornings. The crash, the call, and a grief so unbearable I couldn't breathe. The Postal Service song "Such Great Heights" playing in the background and the "freckles in your eyes" line burning a hole in my heart. A planet of regret settling on my shoulders that could not be moved. Then came words like syringe, black tar, oblivion, and reckless abandon. They seemed detached snapshots of a life I didn't live. I have scars inside and out, but still can't imagine how I got so far from the girl I was born to be. A small town Texas girl with a Southern Baptist upbringing and the normal issues plaguing our generation. Fatherless, insecure, intelligent, and stranger amongst her friends. I never thought I would get here. The past seems so far away now. A memory faded by time and wear.

A copy, of a copy of a life.

I remember thinking in college that I didn't have enough life experience to write a good story. The years that followed would remove any doubts of that and felt at times like I had been sucked into a Greek tragedy. I realized that I write because there is no other way for me. It is a process of release, remembering, and letting go. Writing is my calling and looking back I see my love affair with words began at an early age. I have always loved writing, but I battle all good things God has for me and could not fathom a life based around it. Now, I have the life that I have always dreamed of, but doubted and hoped would manifest.

I could feel the change coming. It came with the speed of a snail. I could say it was long overdue but like all self-depreciating artists I decided to suffer, scrape, and fall. I am a Romantic after all, not in the modern connotation of the word, drawing hearts all over any stationary object but in the Bronte dark, brooding way. The only thing standing in my way was myself. I needed information, inspiration, and a push from someone who has blazed the path to success. Donald Miller did just that for me. He was always a rock star, Elvis of the Christian literary world. I knew he came from my state, we both knew David Gentiles, but I could not fathom how he made it out of our sweltering state. I couldn't help but wonder if he had some super power I was not aware. He had to be, he was so successful. When I was overwhelmed I found comfort in the biographies of the struggling artists who never thought they had produced work of substance and then resorted to some dark deed. I threatened my mother constantly to be wary of the mail because of Van Gogh's influence. I thought their fate would be my own. I never thought I would be different.

Now, I am a writer.

I am in the sky ascending to my next destination. I am on my first book tour. I can't believe I get to type those words. A year and a half ago I was writing, in one of my million marble notebooks, an imaginary preface for a book that no one knew existed.

Looking back now at the darkness of the past years I am thankful for the light. My dream has come true and it all started when I won "a little contest to Portland". It was there that a spark was ignited, fueled, and blazed into the fruition of the thing I want most, to share my story. The gift I am charged and blessed me to do.

Plus, I retained both ears doing it. Van Gogh would be proud.

Living a Better Story Seminar from All Things Converge Podcast on Vimeo.

www.donmilleris.com/conference

Sign up for the Donald Miller conference today!

www.donmilleris.com/conference

Own Yourself

2010-07-13T09:00:00.000-07:00

"Faith is precisely trusting that you who give gratuitously will receive gratuitously , but not necessarily from the person to whom you gave. The danger is in pouring yourself out to others in the hope that they will fully receive you. You will soon feel as if others are walking away with parts of you. You cannot give yourself to others if you do not own yourself, and you can only truly own yourself when you have been fully received in unconditional love."

A lot of giving and receiving has a violent quality, because the givers and receivers act more out of need than out of trust. What looks like generosity is actually manipulation, and what looks like love is really a cry for affection or support. When you know yourself as fully loved, you will be able to give according to the other's capacity to receive, and you will be able to receive according to the other's capacity to give. You will be grateful for what is given to you without clinging to it, and joyful for what you can give without bragging about it. You will be a free person, free to love."-

Henri Nouwen

Perhaps, that is why we have so much trouble giving love, receiving love, and being in love. There are so few of us that feel fully accepted and loved. Lovable, as it seems. How many people do we encounter that have that peace of self-acceptance and love. They know they have value and walk through life with an eerie sense of self. In our society we are constantly encouraged to change, improve, and remodel. Those who are okay with themselves are often perceived as arrogant or self-possessed. Self-love becomes a derogatory term. When did it become the societal norm to despise ourselves? This idea, like so many in today's world are just plain wrong.

The French seem to have it right in this area as a culture. I asked a French friend of mine once why she remained and did not miss France. She said "Why would I miss a place where I am not? If I went around missing everywhere I was not I would be a very miserable person." I smiled. She believes where she is, is the best place because, well "she" is there. I love it! Knowing her I believe she is absolutely correct. She is incredible!

Don't get me wrong, I am all for self-improvement. Self-acceptance must come first and is imperative for life. If contentment is ever to be found it is in the face of reconciliation with the person you are; your true self. The true self lies deep within your soul and subtracts the distortions made as a result of society. Addictions, abuse, and the circumstances of the world damage, but are not included in the true self.

I had to ask myself what I liked and disliked, then start from scratch. Is there an outside influence for why I like this? I went through everything deep to shallow: food, music, personality traits, and theme parks. The older I get the more I realize I do not have time for pretense. Life is too short. Maybe our childhood cartoons had more wisdom than we realize. Popeye wained philosophical when he admitted, "I am what I am." I still don't like spinach, though.

Oh, by the way...I have not reached the perfect state of self-actualization in my writing, so leave a comment if you read this.

Ghost of her ghost

2010-07-06T08:37:00.001-07:00

"Not from this anger, anticlimax after
Refusal struck her loin and the lame flower
Bent like a beast to lap the singular floods
In a land strapped by hunger
Shall she receive a bellyful of weeds
And bear those tendril hands I touch across
The agonized, two seas.
Behind my head a square of sky sags over
The circular smile tossed from lover to lover
And the golden ball spins out of the skies;
Not from this anger after
Refusal struck like a bell under water
Shall her smile breed that mouth, behind the mirror,
That burns along my eyes."

Dylan Thomas

"And bear those tendril hands"... Cut it all, start over. Begin again and erase. I get sick of it all, mostly myself. I know the person I want to be, but can't seem to reach her. I am tired, I am awake, I scream, I say nothing. I think Frida's portrait says it all. Could there be anything more symbolic than to cut it all away? I think we all want to become a vapor, an apparition. "A ghost of her ghost" as Dylan says. That is what I feel like today. Watch out, I might haunt you.

Under your Moon

2010-07-03T17:21:00.001-07:00

I gave you those.
Eight years ago I was sitting on a jetty with you for your 21st birthday. We welcomed in the fourth on a jetty on the Gulf of Mexico. The salty sea air filled and hung thick around us. A warm blanket that held us suspended somewhere I had never been. Safe, warm, and loved. I wonder if it will ever fade, ever lessen. There are mornings when I wake up and it

is sharp stabbing in my chest. Grief. You are gone. Forever young and swimming in my dreams and sometimes nightmares. At times I pretend you are living a life somewhere far away. A wife and children running in the grass of a cozy house that I have never seen. I find this more comforting than the alternative. The ground hard above you, the dirt still beneath my nails. I hope you know you are not forgotten. Tattooed on my heart and mind.
Happy Birthday, B.

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
by E. E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Caledonia

2010-05-18T04:19:00.000-07:00

Caledonia

I don't know if you can see
The changes that have come over me
In these last few days I've been afraid
That I might drift away
I've been telling old stories, singing songs
That make me think about where I've come from
That's the reason why I seem
So far away today

[Chorus:]
Let me tell you that I love you
That I think about you all the time
Caledonia, you're calling me, now I'm going home
But if I should become a stranger
Know that it would make me more than sad
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had

Now I have moved and I've kept on moving
Proved the points that I needed proving
Lost the friends that I needed losing
Found others on the way
I have kissed the fellas and left them crying
Stolen dreams, yes, there's no denying
I have traveled hard, sometimes with conscience flying
Somewhere with the wind

[Chorus]

Now I'm sitting here before the fire
The empty room, the forest choir
The flames have cooled, don't get any higher
They've withered, now they've gone
But I'm steady thinking, my way is clear
And I know what I will do tomorrow
When hands have shaken, the kisses float
Then I will disappear

[Chorus]

Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had

The Way back Home...to Love

2010-04-06T10:35:00.000-07:00

I have treated my life carelessly at times. I treated it as something that could not be lost. A character in a movie that is invincible and moves forward no matter what comes at them. How fragile life truly is and what a gift I take for granted. I don't deserve all the kindness all the love that has been bestowed upon me. I am a child who takes her many gifts for granted and only wants more. I demand of God more and more. I should rejoice in all that I have.

So I ask today what do you take for granted?

Corral a Virtue

2010-02-17T06:42:00.000-08:00

"Is this fooling anyone else?"

I have taken many different stances in my life towards transparency. I was raised to keep my inner most struggles to myself. The idea that no one really wanted to embrace your darkness when they had their own. Keep a smile on your face and your lipstick on. It felt untrue, false. There is a balance somewhere in the middle between total disclosure and complete secrecy. In my later years I lied to myself and others, but really just myself. They knew, it was written on my face, arms, heart, and soul. I have often used this outlet as my platform for those few people that read it. I suppose now as my wounds heal and I reflect back on the past I would say to you to find someone deserving of your self-disclosure and be honest. In the last week I have shared my heart with my oldest friend. I had left her in the dark for many years. She was a better person than I and never gave up on me. She knew whatever darkness had entangled me that I would return. She has the patience of a saint and I grieve the years that I lost with her. I am thankful that someone knew me when I could no longer recognize myself. She reminds me of the person I want to be and seeing the beauty of her life gives me goals to reach for.

I encourage you today to be transparent with someone in your life, don't put a bow on it. Just let them sing the lyrics of your song, even if you don't like the current tune.

Thank you Lis, I love you. Thanks for always being there when I wasn't.

Somewhere Over the Rainbow Bridge

2010-02-15T07:37:00.000-08:00

The past several weeks I have been back in my hometown. A familiar scent of saltwater, refineries, and fresh cut grass in the air. The cool evenings still have that smell of anticipation hanging thick overhead. It is comforting to know that an old friend can still be found on that same street. Though time does not stand still here, familiarity brings a stillness to the chaotic ramblings of my mind.

I have been contemplating the way I want my life to look. Notice the absence of God in that last sentence. My past mentor presented that certain cities, trips, and colleges were wrong. Perhaps, that God would leave me if I choose wrong. I have lived with this fear of making the wrong choice and changing my destiny for too long. How could I think that God was so small that my choice of location could thwart His plan for my life?

Dream A Little Dream

2010-02-11T07:13:00.000-08:00

The words I climb on have escaped me. The last year has made it difficult to nail them down, because the reality of those words I could not face. I was inspired by my dear Paul and his blog to write again. Dreams. So often in life they have been abandoned, discarded, and ignored. If left they begin to fester in our souls as "what if's?" They hang over our heads haunting us, calling our names in those quiet moments of darkness. There are many dreams that are traded in for bigger ones, ones we never knew were there. I am challenged to hold on to mine.

2009-06-03T13:40:00.001-07:00

we will see if this works

Growing Pains

2009-05-17T19:40:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I got to catch up with old friends and make some wonderful new ones. When the party ended and the guests were gone, I started thinking about relationships. I have never been good at letting go. I reflect back on the good times shared and expect that there are plenty more to come. But, what if the time and the season have ended? What if my obstinancy to hold on is nothing but an injustice to myself? I love the moments shared and will cherish them, but perhaps it is time to store them away in a precious place and make room for new ones. There are those that will always walk beside me. Kate, she will always be one. She is my heart. There are those that I wish would, but choose not to. So I ache with the pain of letting go, but embrace the new joys that are to come.

2009

2009-01-14T15:02:00.000-08:00

Hello blog. I should reintroduce myself since I fell off the web. I used to pay tremendous attention to you and apologize for my neglect. Let's get reacquainted. That pict is me by the way. Just in case you forgot.

So....I am still in the same relationship. No casualties or dismemberment to report, so that in itself is a miracle. I am still slightly maudlin and melodramatic. Well, so not much has changed.

Une Noveau Moi

2008-09-12T11:30:00.001-07:00

I have been a very bad blogger.

So since it has been many, many moons since I have blogged I will share some updates.

I am officially in a relationship. I know, coronaries can now be had. I have realized that dating doesn't have to involve so much pressure. I don't have to be perfect or have everything together to let someone in my heart. I mean really, like I will ever have it together. I am only giving partial face coverage here. The poor boy is now in for being the topic of endless diatribes. I must do something to protect his identity. Luckily, he does not have the internet or a computer. Thank the Virgin for that one.

I finally enrolled in French and absolutely love it! I am officially on my way to being a certified Francophile! In my other academic pursuits, I finally embraced the dream and am on my way to switching to International Journalism. I have a few prerequisites to take and my focused path will begin.

Sadly, there will be no more Stud B stories. But, there will be more happier blogs. So here we go!

Just Playing

2008-07-02T10:26:00.000-07:00

You would have been 27 today. Six years ago I was standing in the sand handing a carefully chosen gift tied with twine with a blue starfish on the top. It was the most precious thing I could give you. My very favorite book with something special underlined on page 44. I gave you my heart that day. We sat on the jetties and welcomed in the fourth. It was by far my best holiday. Six years. 2,191 days ago.

I'd give up every one of them to be back there.

Holidays with fireworks never work out that well for me. I always end up alone or with my quarreling parents, wondering if a day would come when the lit up sky would be enjoyable. I always tell myself that I will make plans and then the holiday creeps up on me and "ugghhhh" here I am. This year the options came a little late (today) and my melancholy has overshadowed any desire to venture out.

Today is your birthday and I wonder how long I will wish for the past and when will I just enjoy the present.

I was always jealous of those big families that actually acknowledged national holidays. They made plans weeks in advance and invited people over. So fun, those obligatory family functions my friend's complained about, I would have died to go to. I know you are choking on my self-pity. Sorry, but it continues.

Does it ever feel like you are playing at life? Trying on aspects that don't fit you. Perhaps, with the right accessories, it will come together and look like it was made for you. I feel like I have been playing dress up in things that are false.

A little girl wearing size 9 heels stumbling around with an empty martini glass and smeared red lipstick. Something is wrong. Things seem to have gone awry. My version of grown up seemed to match the world's: money, success, a great wardrobe, and tons of fabulous friends to pose in pictures. Really, all those things are just about me. How they look on me or around me. What hole they fill in my soul. I didn't have a section of "giving back" in my dream grownup world. I didn't think that happiness would be absent with the presence of all those things.

Now, in your absence, I think the most precious things are the moments, memories, and people in our lives. The fireworks displays with quarreling families, the phone calls from lost friends, and the love in our hearts.

You fit me and you are gone. So, what now?

I will embrace the truth I find in people and places. Put off false things and start planning the next holiday with fireworks now.

Mix Tape Monday

2008-06-23T20:37:00.001-07:00

I worked at a law office this last week and this is what I did.

Not so texty?

2008-06-20T11:18:00.001-07:00

What is this phenomenon? Has the text surpassed the call? Now let me preface this tirade with an acknowledgement that I am a active participant in Twitter. We have formed a group as a result called "the framily" and consider ourselves a cult on the rise, so consider yourself forewarned. This group is filled with people with whom I have a long standing relationships and consider some of my best friends. So, this being said, I think that the "text" does have its place. I am frustrated by the "get to know you texts" that I have recently observed and encountered.

So let the tirade begin. ...

Okay, boys do you really think a girl will swoon over some carefully chosen sentences like the following "What r u up 2?" You know what? If you cannot take the time to type a two letter word, I don't think I have the time to get to know you. Or perhaps your severe case of number dyslexia disables you? Cannot or will not dial my digits, but can text them?

I am perplexed or pertexted.

Fight Any Day

2008-06-20T07:01:00.000-07:00

"...her heart is violated and the message is driven farther in: you are not desired, you will not be protected; no one will fight for you."

The fear in every woman's heart. It lies in a secret place that she covers with cynacism, bitterness, and at times, independence.

I think really this struggle goes beyond gender to a deeper place, the very core our humanity. Don't we all want to know we are worth it? Worth the effort, worth the time, or even worth the phone call? We walk around with the nagging hope that someone, somewhere will think so. I was talking to a friend last night about the extremes that we go through to make ourselves be appealing or desired by others.

I thought the irony of it all is that once we change who we are to receive the needed acceptance we usually lose it. It is hard to admire a chameleon, their change is entertaining, but hardly worth treasuring.

My fighter is not hard to describe. I think he would know me and accept me for just that. Maybe to wonder what I thought about things, to read the books I read just because I read them, to want to really know me. He wouldn't want anything but the truth and love my truth.

One wonderful boy sent me this and I'll treasure it always.

That's what I'll wait for. Someone prepared for the fight.

So what is involved in your fight? What is the thing that you most need to feel battled for? Tell me what is most important to you.

The Dangers of Men

2008-06-16T07:50:00.000-07:00

A strange phenomenon has occurred the last month in my life. I have been inundated with the "set-up". This is so unusual because 1) I am extremely picky (aka critical) 2) I am somewhat complex (high maintenance) and to most, impossible to manage 3) I am dubious at best 4) Except for those few brilliant people who see my invaluable attributes (love me) no one would intentionally subject their friends to such a case of emotional liabilities...at least, so I thought.

My two most recent suitors have come in the form of the ex-con. They have both served time for drug possession and the subsequent crimes that accompany such things. They are tattooed, tough, and now love Jesus. I wondered briefly if this was to insinuate that I am a girl "only a hardened criminal could love" or perhaps loving me would be like "serving time." I then came to the conclusion that it was my unlimited grace and love for broken, but strong that illuminated me for such a role. (Stop laughing, I need to believe this to preserve my self-esteem.)

I have never been one to tame. I like the danger, the excitement, and the "bad boys" if you must categorize them. I also know that there has to be a balance between the abusive and the doormat. I read this quote from Wild at Heart:

"A stallion is hard to tame. If you want a safer, quieter, animal, there's an easy solution: castrate him. A gelding is much more compliant. You can lead him around by the nose; he'll do what he's told without putting up a fuss. There's only one problem: Gelding's don't give life. They can't come through for you the way a stallion can. A stallion is dangerous all right, but if you want the life he offers, you have to have the danger too. They go together."

The perfect balance I dub thee "Rhett Butler" Here's a guy who sees Scarlett for all she is and thinks I can tame this one. He is up for the challenge. Strong, witty, and incorrigible. He can fight when he needs to, charm when necesary, a doting father, and even handles finances. A war hero when called upon and a lover above all. So Scarlet blew it, but he was her match in every way. So for that he deserves to be an ideal.

I want the strength. If that means stubbornness, tattoos, or a temper...come what may, I'm all in. In today's world, it may take a different form: to change the tire, cut down the tree, and even rescue the beauty from herself.

I am ready for a man to do it.

Not because I am not capable, but because I don't think I am meant to.

My Athens

2008-06-13T19:27:00.003-07:00

Birds of a Feather

2008-05-30T09:17:00.000-07:00

If you have read any of my blogs you will see that birds often times end up being the protagonist. It seems in times of a great crisis the animal kingdom fall from heaven into my lap. Literally.....

Yesterday was no exception.

I was sitting on my patio in the chair I never sit in (there are two), when something suddenly hits my leg. I have recently been the honoree of a very angry mother bird's excrement, so I am hesitant to look down and see what remains. Much to my surprise and dismay it is a baby bird of said angry mother bird. I think to myself "What are the odds?" But, then quickly wrap baby bird in a paper towel and research via Google what I should do. Well, of course return it to the nest. So I get a ladder, climb up (Cirque de Soleil- style)

onto the drain pipe and replace the bird.

I felt very satisfied with myself at this point and feel nature has been restored to its proper balance. I go inside, do menial tasks, and then return to my chair. A few moments pass and again, there is a bird on my lap. I decided that this particular baby was either 1) ready to break out on its own 2) suicidal 3) just plain rebellious 4) thought I was super cool and wanted to hang out on my upper thigh a bit longer.

So I wrap it up again, take it inside, and begin to google bird care. Well, at this time in my life a dead baby bird is not something I can take responsibility for, so I change my tactics. I feed it, and then return it to the nest, blocking the hole to the drain pipe. (This way baby won't escape again, but mom can easily enter.)

I awoke this morning, took a look around, and no baby bird in sight! I hear the squawking of baby birds and feel quite content.

Then (sitting in opposite patio chair) I saw it. Underneath the other chair, the baby bird had fallen, and was dead.

I cried of course.

I realized that this particular bird refused to be helped. I (reading meaning into everything) thought of myself and cried even more. After gaining my composure, writing an eulogy for the bird, and planning a Viking funeral on the river,

I sat down and thought, "It is what it is." This quote is constantly used by one of my free-spirited friends and sometimes really pisses me off, but today I added my own interpretation.

I think despite all our best efforts in life some things just have to die. I am not just speaking physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well. I realize that I am at times stubborn, but also full of grace and apologetic. I cannot and will not change the course of my life to please others, only God. I have to make peace with all my decisions, actions, and words, no matter how good or horrible they are. My friend Kate says this should be my credo or disclaimer, so I included it.

You can't navigate me. I may do mean things, and I may hurt you, and I may run away without your permission, and you may hate me forever, and I know that it scares the living shit outta you 'cause you know I'm the only real thing you got.

I also know that the people that truly love me will know my heart and that those actions are not always the most accurate depiction of it. I said once in "the great Kate" that she loves me for who I am, who I am want to be, and who I was. That to me is real love, it is not conditional, and keeps no record of wrongs.

So I make peace with the fact that very few people can really love like that. I will continue to work on being better, but for now, "It is what it is." "I am what I am" (who knew I would ever quote Popeye, yikes.) Love me or hate me, I cannot apologize for my identity. I have worked much too hard to get here.

So relationships will thrive and some will die. I can fight until my hands are raw, but really the choice is not up to me. So, to quote the same cheesy movie

There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle... and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.

Suit of Armor

2008-05-28T20:57:00.000-07:00

A friend quoted to me "sometimes we hold onto our pain because it is the only thing that we feel is ours." He had no idea but it affected me and has stayed with me since. I realized that I wear mine. It is my protection, my solace, and at times a defining aspect of my personality. In recent blogs I have been processing through the idea that my life is not just my own nor my pain. It affects, destroys, strengthens, and even at times encourages those I encounter. This last week it destroyed.

I was cruel (to say the least) to a friend and used it as a weapon of mass destruction. I sit now replaying the conversation and know that the words I spoke weren't even about him. I spoke to ghosts, I spoke to me, and I spoke to all things I hate. He, is none of these. He is a home I always return to, a safe place, and a heart that always loves even when it is not deserved. I could crawl out of my skin knowing that at a difficult time in his life that I fought him, pushed him, and may have lost him.

I am cold, metallic, and spiteful when I wear it. I'll lay it down and leave it for him. I have to lay it down for me as well. The lessons come late, but still come. Words come quickly and sharply to me, I just wish sensibility did also.

So l lay my weapons down and surrender. This is not a battle to be fought, for there are truly no winners.

The Grands

2008-05-23T15:57:00.000-07:00

The completion of the spring semester means I return to my hometown. I will spend most of my time catching up with my beloved grandparents, who, to say the least, are never boring. Today was no different. After several rings of the doorbell and knocks on the door I decided that they had retired for their daily afternoon siesta and turned to leave, when suddenly the door swung open and their stood my Pal-Pal, shirtless, and in overalls. He said "hey girl" and turnes quickly back to the living room. I went in and to saw that he and my grandmother had decided to try and groom their dogs themselves. There was dog hair everywhere, including large chunks stuck to my grandmothers cheeks and on the back of my grandfather's damp neck.

I chuckled to myself and my grandmother quickly went to retreive the vacuum. She began the task of cleaning up when the vacuum suddenly made a horrendous noise. My grandfather took it apart, discovered the problem, and then returned it to my grandmother saying, "Suck up the rest of this dog hair."

She looked at him with pure disdain and stubbornly said, "No, you suck it."
He retorted, "No, you suck it."
She, "No, you suck it."

I was beyond words at this point hearing my Southern Baptist grandparents use such language. If only they knew.

I'll file this one under dialogue you never want to hear from any one over the age of 10.

Thursday Thirteen

2008-05-22T20:08:00.000-07:00

13 Things That Changed Today...

13. I found my new favorite song "You really got a hold on me" covered by She and Him.

12. After four years, and almost complete loss of hope, something was whole.

11. I traded my worn, black, Issac Mizrahi purse for a brand new, shiny, deconstructed hobo.

10. I made peace with the fact that I may never have feeling in my right index finger again.

9. I decided that Jen Lancaster's books are not chic lit., but rather a memoir of a fashion genius trapped by the constraints of our monetary system.

8. "I think I want a baby. " If words involved in the female reproductive process make you cringe, you are probably not ready to reproduce.

7. I chose black accessories over orange. I have truly grown up.

6. I went to the doctor without fear.

5. I laughed at what would have been a painstakedly awkward situation that would normally have driven me to tears.

4. I didn't watch Lost. Sad face.

3. I didn't argue with my mother.

2. I drove through my hometown and appreciated it, humidity and all.

1. I didn't get to talk to my best guy multiples of times. This will be different tomorrow! Love you D!

The Allure of Hope

2008-05-09T19:34:00.000-07:00

It still amazes me how you stumble upon a book at the perfect time that you need it. The Allure of Hope couldn't have come to me at a better time.

"She was finding all kinds of things wrong with her so she could concentrate on fixing them. As she realized what she was doing, she said, At least I know how to clean myself up. I don't know how to fix my sorrow right now. This is why self-contempt is the path of least resistance when our hearts are bruised. If we can find something about ourselves to get to work on, we are in control. This is why hope calls us away from mocking ourselves, and why it calls us into a deep place of trust."

I think that so often we try to get our "ducks in a row" as a excuse for avoiding intimacy. I mean really, we will never have everything together. I mean all there is are excuses...I have to lose 30 pounds, I have to finish school, I have let life settle down. I suppose when you get to the truth of the matter it isn't about any of those things, as much as it is about being fearful to hope again.

My hope has been sparse for years now. I realize that maybe putting too much importance on the "right time" may make something the wrong time. I am tired of worrying about the right or wrong time. I think maybe you should just hope in all things and enjoy the triumph in that. I am too exhausted for complex emotional struggles or constantly worrying about the image I portray. I was seeking affirmation from a friend the other day and he said, "Jess, you don't need me to tell you you're great." I thought, he is right. There is no need to waste time worrying, if someone likes you then they are brilliant, if they don't...well, screw them. You don't want to end up twisting yourself into someone that you are not.

I would not sacrifice myself for anyone. Self, is a difficult person to know and once you find it you must not compromise.

I heard this quote the other day and thought, now that's it. "Commiting to nothing, that's suicide"

No dying here, it is all about living in faith and maintaining your hope. That is something I can always commit to.

A Comet Appears

2008-05-08T08:58:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to blog, honest to blog. So today is song of the day. The Shins could only warrant their own blog.

One hand on this wily comet,
Take a drink just to give me some weight,
Some uber-man I'd make,
I'm barely a vapor

They shone a chlorine light on,
A host of individual sins,
Let's carve my aging face off,
Fetch us a knife,
Start with my eyes,
Down so the lines,
Form a grimacing smile,

Close your eyes to corral a virtue,
Is this fooling anyone else?
Never worked so long and hard,
To cement a failure,

We can blow on our thumbs and posture,
But the lonely is such delicate things,
The wind from a wasp could blow them,
Into the sea,
With stones on their feet,
Lost to the light and the loving we need,

Still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing,

With burnt sage and a forest of bygones,
I click my heels,
Get the devils in line,
A list of things I could lay the blame on,
Might give me a way out,

But with each turn,
It's this front and center,
Like a dart stuck square in your eye,
Every post you can hitch your faith on,
Is a pie in the sky,
Chock full of lies,
A tool we devise,
To make sinking stones fly,

And still to come,
The worst part and you know it,
There is a numbness,
In your heart and it's growing.

Media Naranja

2008-05-08T08:16:00.000-07:00

I am spending the week in my hometown and decided to visit some of my favorite places.

Mr. C. Dell Bates is one of my favorite artists and he finally opened up a studio in Naranja.

The Shangrala Garden

6 Things

2008-05-05T12:23:00.000-07:00

Okay let's see...

6. Today, at the gas station a man began speaking to me in espanol and I realized he had mistaken me for someone of Hispanic heritage when he said, "bonita Mexicana". I was both pleased and flattered because I assume it is because of my lovely tan. My poor accent and limited spanish vocab quickly corrected his assumptions.
*Side note: My neighbor asked me yesterday when Cinco de Mayo was and with all the composure I could muster I replied, "Monday." I did not want to know if she really didn't know. So Happy Cinco kids!

5. Every two days or so I write a letter to someone and then proceed to throw it away. I think it is either too much of the following: sad, mushy, or serious. So if you are ever curious about getting some good scoop, you should so dumpster dive at my apartment.

4. I have begun talking to my dog much more frequently and am disturbed by this. "Zoe, should I drop out of school? Zoe, do you think I should wear this?" You see the problem here?

3. I have to drink coffee everyday and resemble the following without it.....

2. I have a hair appointment for the first time in six months on Wednesday. Yes, gasps of horror can now be had.

1. I don't like mayonaise and don't understand why it is the default condiment on all sandwiches. This angers me daily.

I tag... Danielle,Dan, Jas, and Sol.

Both Sides of the Window

2008-05-03T09:13:00.000-07:00

"You have to clean both sides." Well, yes of course you do.

There is a huge patio door in my living room made of all glass. It is filthy and probably hasn't been cleaned since I moved in. So I windexed it. It amazes me how looking through it now is so much clearer. The trees are greener and life is altogether sunnier. Sometimes our one-sided view distorts the image. Sometimes you just have to view things fresh from both sides.

My Mom and I have been arguing over choice. She says that I choose what I will be each day. Will I be happy, will I be melancholy, or will I be angry? I feel like I should sing Doris Day's version of "Que sera, sera" right here. Oh well, I suppose I felt like a passive passenger floating along the river of life. I haven't been choosing my currents. I just let them take me where they wanted. She had a completely different view of my life, from the outside in.

My life is very good. How easily I forget this. She, looking in at me, reminded me of this and just how fortunate I really am. I have a apartment to live in, clothes to wear, and people that love me. My cup runneth over and I seem to be able to complain about it spilling. Is it my American sense of entitlement or just pure selfishness that causes me to doubt the goodness of this life? Probably, a little bit of both.

So I look from both sides and thank God for my life. A very, very good life. I see that perspective really is everything. People wait their whole lives to move to our country to live this life that I call "mediocre". The American dream.

Windex should hire me as their spokeswoman. I could make window cleaning philosophical....

Hell is Other People

2008-05-01T12:52:00.000-07:00

According to Jean-Paul Sartre. If you asked around I think there would be many who agree. Sartre spent much of his time alone, pondering his own existence, and tormenting Simone de Beauvoir. He seemed perplexed by humanity and from his writings obviously injured by their very presence. He writes of his solitude...

I live alone, entirely alone. I never speak to anyone, never; I receive nothing, I give nothing… When you live alone you no longer know what it is to tell something: the plausible disappears at the same time as the fiends. You let events flow past; suddenly you see people pop up who speak and who go away, you plunge into stories without beginning or end: you make a terrible witness. But in compensation, one misses nothing, no improbability or, story too tall to be believed in cafes.

I wonder how much his isolation shaped his inability to relate to others? I have spent most of my life alone. I am the only child, grandchild, niece, and the last of my family line. I have never minded being alone. I am a writer and you need some silence to
translate all the demons on paper. In recent weeks as I recess deeper and deeper into my hermit-hood, I wonder...."Have I discounted community?"

I like ole Sartre, but I think he got a little looney toward those last years. I mean we get it you exist, so does everybody else Jean-Paul!

I thought in the past all the great artists, writers, and composers were certifiable. So my anti-social tendencies were all for the sake of my art (I know such the matyr, right?). But, maybe crazy doesn't have to live with creativity. I guess I can stop the terrific Amy Winehouse impression and try to pull the nails out of the front door....Hmmmm......On second thought..........

Nah.........

Climbing on the Words

2008-04-24T07:41:00.001-07:00

There was not a more fitting title for a blog about my life than this. When I ran across it in my book of Dylan Thomas' poems I knew it was perfect. I have spent my life looking for just the right words. I wanted to hear them, say them, and ultimately write them. Despite all my searching I realize now that they are there and have always been within my grasp.

It was the same for the picture of the girl, ill-equipped and inappropriately dressed to climb this wall. She has no harness, no net, and totally the wrong apparel for such a venture. She had only the bravado and reckless abandon to pursue such a course without thought of repercussions. I thought nothing was more true of myself.

I have lived my life without much consideration for those around me. I have lived my life as it were my own and believed my actions would not affect others. My sense of entitlement has often injured others. I thought my life did not touch against others, but somehow stood apart; alone. I see that I was wrong.

I see now that I have been my own worst enemy. My own worst critic. My friend and I were talking and I said "Sometimes I wish I could crawl out of my own head." He nodded and said he "wanted out of his own skin." He told me the following story from his son's book...

"…I couldn't undress because I hadn't any clothes on when I suddenly
thought that dragons are snaky sort of things and snakes can cast off their skins. Oh, of
course, thought I, that's what the Lion means. So I started scratching myself and my scales began coming
off all over the place. And then I scratched a little deeper and, instead of just scales
coming off here and there, my whole skin started peeling off beautifully, like it does after an illness, or as if I were a banana. So I started to go down into the well for my bath. But just as I was going
to put my feet into the water I looked down and saw that they were hard and rough and wrinkled and
scaly just as they had been before. So I scratched and tore again and this underskin peeled
off beautifully and out I
stepped and left it lying beside the other one and went down to the well….
…the same thing happened again. And I thought to myself, oh dear, how
ever many skins have I
got to take off? So I scratched away for the third time… but as soon
as I looked at myself in the
water I knew it had been no good.

Then the Lion said… 'You will have to let me undress you.' I was
afraid of his claws, I can tell
you, but I was pretty desperate now. So I just lay flat on my back and
let him do it. The very first
tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my
heart. And when he began
pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The
only thing that made me able to
bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.
Then he caught hold of me—I didn't like that much for I was very
tender underneath now that I'd
no skin on—and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but
only for a moment. After
that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming
and splashing I found that…
I'd turned into a boy again. After a bit the Lion took me out and dressed me."

I know that every person at one time or another wants to get out from beneath their sins, struggles, and their self. We battle, scratch, and scrape. But maybe we need others to pull us through ourselves. They come from far away states, cities, and places to encircle us. Friends that wrap their arms around us and take us back to the truth. Their words bring comfort and light to our own darkness. I know that we must fight the darkness inside ourselves, but also accept it. We travel with it till it leaves.

We have to fight, climb, and never give up. So I will continue climbing on the words, though with bloodied hands, I won't give up. There is a safety net of love and support always waiting underneath if I fall.

Thank you friends, family, and framily for always catching me. I love you.

Kate the Great

2008-04-13T13:19:00.000-07:00

She walks into a room with the kind of confidence other women only dream about. Quiet and unassuming, but beautiful beyond her own comprehension. She laughs and my heart fills. She knows who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. She never ridicules my abandonment of old ideals and sudden adoption of new ones. She believes in me. She is honest in a way that is always kind.

She is my friend, my love, and part of my soul carried in another.

When we meet we just "knew" we would be friends. I saw her driving around campus in her orange jeep, carefree, and light. I knew that we would click and we did. She shares my dreams, she knows my heart and I, hers.

She is able to remain a free spirit though married and with two kids. She is grounded, but still able to fly.

She's the yin to my yang.

I cry everytime we leave each other. I have barely a day with her left and my chest tightens as I write this. Too many states lay between us.

She is my dear friend, my soul, and my heart embodied in a taller, blonder version. I love you K.E.A.

Thursday Thirteen

2008-04-10T10:17:00.000-07:00

Top 13 Reasons I am considering joining a nunnery.

WARNING: This is a bitter diatribe brought about from endless harrassment from the boys in my graduate program. Females are the minority and I feel as though some sort of hazing has been established by "the man" to break the gentler sex down. I have many wonderful male friends who treat me with the upmost respect so this is aimed at a certain group of ridiculous boys. Only take offense if they ring true.

13. I speak, a boy repeats what I said and thus it becomes "a brilliant comment."

Apparently my octave does not register in male ears. Or perhaps my voice is so angelic they think this was a message direct from God's flying servants.

12. Boys think it is all about them.

If one more person assumes I am in seminary to land a husband I will say without flinching, "No, to find a wife."

11. The misconception of being single seems to be thought accidental rather than a choice.

"Why won't you go out with me? It's not like you have a boyfriend!" he asked. "Isn't I don't want to reason enough?" I retorted. Apparently not in his reality.

10. They are chivalrous only as long as they want something.

They open doors, pick up your pen, and smile kindly until you turn them down. Then you catch a door in the face and endure endless verbal torture for the remainder of the semester.

9. They always assume they are smarter than you, even if they steal your ideas.

See number 13.

8. They think if you like something it is because of them and not that perhaps you discovered something on your own without their assistance.

I mean why would you think for yourself? Ex: "I heard you quote Henri Nouwen. Did you see me reading that book?" Me: "Uh, no. My friend gave me some Nouwen books six years ago." Him: "Yeah, I bet." Me: thinking...."Bastard."

7. They don't listen.

6. They are lazy and don't want to put forth anymore effort than absolutely necessary.

"Can I borrow your notes?" he asked. "Sure, I didn't notice you missed class." I said. "Oh, I didn't I just don't like to take notes. Can you make a copy for me?" he added.

5. They always assume girls don't like sports.

No example worth mentioning, it just bugs me.

4. They are like infants, anything bright and shiny attracts their attention.

3. If you express your opinion you are one of the following: bitch, lesbian, and or feminist.

Maybe I am smart and have something to contribute despite my lack of male genitalia. Just a thought.

2. If they say it, it is gospel.

1. They don't listen.

Yeah, see number 7. I just thought for the Sem boys I would repeat this one.

And they wonder why we switch teams....

I am so never getting married. LOL

Jimmy Thing

2008-04-08T12:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, was a beautifully hot Central Texas day. I had a whole list of things to accomplish and was in the utmost of good moods. First stop, go buy a plethora of bottled water so I would not have to drink the Wacko water.
So I went to a wholesale store that I will not mention and got 90 bottles. I did not plan out the carrying of said water bottles up two flights of stairs but refused to be discouraged. So I loaded the bottles in the trunk and shut it with a sigh of satisfaction. I went to pull the keys out of the trunk and there were none. Uh oh. I patted myself down like I had committed a felony, dug through my purse, and looked back at the trunk. Knowing full well where they were. Uh oh.

Let it be said that my spare keys are five hours away. My only house key is on that ring and I have no clue what to do next. So I go back into the wholesale store and talk to my friends in automotive department. I have spent numerous hours in this store developing relationships with the boys in automotive due to previous vehicular troubles. Trent recommended that I call pop-a-lock. Cheap, fast, and easy.

I told him I would think about it, but decided to try my hand at being MacGuyver with my earring and then a flat head screw driver. No luck. So after inserting a few other foreign objects into my trunk's key hole I gave in.

So I called Pop-a-lock and a sweet young man with a face splashed with freckles began to plot his break-in into my car. He had several tools that looked like doorstops from my church but still I had faith in him. He struggled and was quite nervous. Twenty minutes passed and he looked at me all the while, smiling nervously while I tried to bolster his confidence with banal conversation about "what a silly girl I was" and "how one time when I had my other car I....". While he is struggling his home office kept calling and making sexual references about his inability to "pop the lock." I tried to act like I didn't hear his walkie. So twenty more minutes passed and I decided I would make a suggestion.

Now, this I know about the roles of men and women:

1. Never give your opinion about man matters.
2. Never interfere while a man is working on something.
3. Never tell a man he is doing something wrong, even if you have done it before.
4. Never tell a man anything about a car, this is supposedly their territory.

Things this boy doesn't know about me:

1. I have changed my own alternator.
2. I have a shady past that does include breaking-and-entering.
3. My grandfather has taught me an exceptional amount of information about mechanics.
4. My uncle owns a body shop and I almost worked there.

So, trying hard to maintain archaic societal roles I held my peace for as long as I could. I suggested that he move it down and try the other unlock button. He hemmed and hawed, passively ignoring me. Twenty more minutes passed, all the while this boy's self-esteem is draining. His boss says over the walkie, "what's wrong son, can't get it up?" laughing loudly. Freckles blushes as he glances at me. My patience and tolerance of sexual undertones has come to a end.

"That's it," I think.

I say with more forcefulness that I intended, "give me the tool."

I take it, move it down to the other button (the one I suggested he tryearlier), pushed it, and in one easy motion lifted the handle. I would like to say with a look of sheer humility I smiled at him and opened the door, but that would be a lie. A prideful smile spread across my face and I handed him the tool. He, with a look of incredulity said, "How did you do that?" I, gleeful, at the opportunity to use this movie line said "the benefits of a misspent youth." He lookes amazed, cowers and slips away, gathering his tools as he goes. He gets in his truck and just sits there. I pulled up and he is obviously contemplating how he will explain this to his boss. I, make sure he is not weeping and drive away.

Gender roles be damned, I am woman.

Freedom comes on Saturdays.

2008-04-05T10:32:00.000-07:00

The words have been slow to me lately. I come slowly to certain realizations. Perhaps, I dragged my feet on this one. It is with such freedom and joy that I write now, that I can barely contain myself. Sometimes the pieces fall into place and truth is born. A rebirth of self, greatly needed and appreciated.

The idea of love (romantic love) has seemed more of a burden than a blessing in my mind. It represented an abandonment of freedom and self. I saw women in the throws of despair, all in the name of "falling in love." I, more than many, have escaped many a heartache padded by my own pride and fear. There seemed to be a disconnect between this societal love and Biblical love that I could not reconcile. I have been stewing in it for weeks, unable to grasp several different tenants. How can I guard my heart yet allow myself to be open to love?

I used the scripture about "guarding my heart" as a weapon. The embittered part of myself believed that locking it away far from the reaches of others would keep it safe and in tact. The difficulty came when this tactic had begun to interfere with my relationships with others. The dogmatic, prideful, and fearful self was inhibiting me from growth and freedom. I was trapped behind a wall of my own construction; boxed in by the constraints of self. The rules had become a slavery that I could not escape. I could acknowledge that as a woman I need love, but was not sure how to accept it and give it freely.

I read the following quote and had mixed emotions

"It ever has been since time began,
And ever will be, till time lose breath,
That love is a mood- no more- to a man,
And love to a woman is life or death."

This quote by Ella Wheeler Wilcox truly captures a woman's desire and need for love. I don't agree that love is a mood for a man, but rather a desire, more than a necessity. They can function without romantic entanglement and complete the other factions of their life quite well without it.

Truth descended upon me quite suddenly.

Love is a gift. It is a gift that we must give freely with no expectation of return. You can never give freely with expectations. Love will then cease to be a gift, and thus become a burden. The examples of women I saw were not giving love, but rather expecting it. The insecure and empty part of their souls longing to be filled. Perhaps, never fully understanding that they themselves were controlling their own fufillment. It was not the object of their desire determining their idea of self, but rather they themselves. These men would never be anything but a disapointment to them because their expectations were beyond earthly fufillment.

So in this I realized that love is only true when it has no expectations. If you believe that you cannot help who you love then you must agree then that you can control how you love. Real love does not promote its own agenda, but rather wants the best for the other party. Accepting, (this is the most difficult part) that it might not include you. If you truly love, your love will lift up and not bring down. It will set you free, rather than tie you down.

In the discovery of this truth I feel peace, no fears. I question no introductions of new friends, new love, or even pain. In all of this, there is growth. This does not mean that you cannot protect your heart and must be wise in those who are allowed to access it. It just means that love does not have to be a regret, but rather a strengthening of your inner self. You can give love, set boundaries, and sometimes sadly enough close doors. There is knowledge attained. I am grateful. So grateful. I think with each new encounter we learn more of ourselves. They reveal parts of us never brought to light before. I know that in solitude I shine, but the introduction of romantic love distorts my senses. So I regain my footing, appreciate the lesson, and know that with each day I will be better. I still hope, I still dream, and will still love. I just have a more detailed picture of what that means for me.

So I pray the blessings of peace for each heart. I pray for the best, come what may. I pray that you will be free and give love freely. Do not live this day in regret, but cherish its' richness.

Top 10 Things Not To Do at 4am

2008-03-29T07:27:00.000-07:00

I believe that no matter how much sleep a person gets that we are all slightly insane at this ungodly hour. As you will see from the following:

Top 10 things not to do....

10. Decide to strike conversations with your schizo neighbor who stands under your balcony.
Me: "So I see you got a haircut. Looks nice."
Him: "I see you got a new lamp."
Creepy, since he has never actually been inside my apartment. Hmm.....

9. Bang on the wall and tell sexually active neighbors to "get a room."
I mean techinically they got one. Better thought process next time.

8. Drink as much coffee as possible and then go for a run.
Not nice.

7. Decide to return all those e-mails that have been piling up.

6. Shred old pictures.
Oops. Maybe I did want those.

5. Trying to cut your own hair.
Oh yes I did. Frida's got nothing on me.

4. Make life altering decisions and then act upon them.

3.Accept invitations to hang with redneck neighbors.
Who have been up for many, many hours partying. Discussing the integrity of classic versus contemporary country will not bring you comfort.

2. Drink more coffee.

1. Write a letter to someone you are mad at and mail it.
Is it really a felony to break into a mail box? Sigh.....

Hallejuah!

2008-03-26T10:30:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Tipptalkfor posting this! She made my day! I am so pumped!

Balance

2008-03-26T10:07:00.000-07:00

I am a Libra, and as much as I say I don't subscribe to all that cosmic stuff, I kinda do. I don't think the stars control my life or destiny, but maybe being born in October somehow did influence my temperment. I am a all or nothing kind of gal, very much like Elise (who I adore, by the way. So blog crushing on her). There are moments were I feel absolutely out of control for no reason at all. Things can be going smoothly and suddenly it washes over me, or rather crashes on me. I need balance, this I know. The scales are always moving.

The presence of others in my life and my solitude are often hard to keep that balance. I am a hermit or the social butterfly. I am up all night or sleeping twelve hours a day. I turn my phone off or I get 400 texts messages. You see the pattern here. There is a middle ground that I have slowly stumbled upon and with it I find myself. I breathe in and out, digest this life, and look to the sky.

Today, I feel balanced, I feel peaceful, I feel like myself. Rainer Maria Rilke said "Live your questions now, and perhaps even without knowing it, you will live along some distant day into your answers." The purest pursuit of finding self will lead to the answers you seek. The questions will begin to consume you if you let them, step back and look at the whole of life. I remind myself that this life is not about me, my desires, my hopes, my dreams, but rather about my Higher purpose. He has called me for more than inquisitions of His will, but to live it. The precious hours I lose trying to predict His answers, rather than just taking the instructions He has given.

So I choose to live the questions and not focus so much on finding the answers right away. They will come. They always do.

Good Friday

2008-03-21T06:06:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning in the darkness, bare blue knees clutched to my chest. Drawing near to 7am I knew the members of FBC Athens were gathering to do the stations of the cross. I was frightened in the darkness and alone. Then, quite suddenly in the clarity that only comes with dark mornings, I realized: You sat alone in this darkness, hundreds of years ago, knowing your unavoidable fate. You wished the others were awake to comfort and distract you. There was nothing but the dark abyss of nothingness swallowing you. You told them you needed them most at this moment and they slept. You said, "Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory..." They didn't realize. How could they? I run to others to remove my emptiness and You embraced Yours. Alone, afraid, but willing. Willing.

Your suffering far surpassed any we will encounter. Yet, like a selfish child I am angered by my own suffering, though petty in comparison. At times I cannot move past the anger and hurt from my "entitlement" to a good life. How can I fully embrace You when I cannot accept the pains You suffered? We have to suffer. We have to suffer to know that this suffering is meaningless in comparison of Your ultimate glory. We have to suffer to know You, to cling to You. It is not a punishment, but rather a chance for enlightenment. A child may hurt, but runs to its father. It does not blame its father for the suffering, but knows that these are the pains that accompany life. A child is wiser than me, O Lord. You just want us to be where You are, to realize the grand scheme and purpose of life. You did not forsake Your Father for Your tremendous sufferings, yet I do daily for so much less.

You took the heavy burdens of the world, but I refuse to bear my own cross daily. The burden is light, yet I am weak. It is all meaningless in Your presence. I realize now. How, in my mind, did life become about me? My wants, wishes, and desires are foreign to You. Make my heart Your own. Take from me these trite ideals of life. Redeem my mind. I deserve nothing, yet You gave me everything. Let me transcend this self, this horrendous self that contaminates Your will.

Renew me. Give me the heart of a child. Redeem me.

Blubbering, Bucks, and Birds

2008-03-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

Scene: I am standing on the side of the interstate in the entrance to Starbucks being held by a complete stranger while she sobs. I am doing my best impression of a homeless person with pine green cut off workout pants, my grandfather's army jacket, and my red crocheted Bob Marley hat. It is 8:00 on Sunday morning, I haven't slept....

And can't help but ask myself, "How did I get here?"

I blame it on the piano man.

This week I haven't felt like myself. Perhaps, it is from lack of framily contact or too many late night activities, but something is off. I can't seem to find the words I want or need. Things are a little duller, a little sad.

I couldn't sleep, find peace, or comfort. All that to say that I waited patiently this morning for Starbucks to open to bring a little joy back in my life. Or at least legal stimulants. And yes, I was up before the Starbuck's employees, that is how early I was up. And with the little glee I could muster I set off with dog in tow. As I took the entrance to the Buck's parking lot I saw this bird floundering around in the driveway. I saw that either it's wings or legs were broken and it couldn't get out of the way.

Note: I had decided to be hardened and calloused a few days prior, but my efforts were proving unsuccessful.

So, in a attempt to stay true to my emotionally barren state I drove on.

I sat in line, thinking about the poor little bird and whether I could construct some crutches out of toothpicks or something. I got my order, asked for extra napkins and headed off.

But, couldn't drive past the darn bird again. Sigh. I was never very good at being cold-hearted.

So I park my car, get out, armed with napkins and make my way to the bird. I would like to say that this was a heroic and graceful animal rescue, but the thing tried to get away. So I ended up chasing the flouncing bird onto the interstate feeder road. Almost getting the bird and myself killed by a semi. Finally, I grasp the bird with the napkins (my mom would be proud, she always thinks I will get the bird flu) and take it back to safety. I have made numerous bird rescues before and some proved successful, some not so successful. So considering my history I thought I better leave the bird outside. So I build it a nest out of the napkins and place it under a nearby tree. I read the bird it's last rites (just in case) and started walking back to my car, praying that no one saw this little escapade.

No such luck.

A women in her late fifties was walking towards me. I wondered if she was going to give me the bird flu lecture or offer me some hand sanitizer. She did look sorta mom-like. Maybe she would tell me it was illegal to pick up birds, this is Wacko. Then I quickly remembered my strange attire and wondered if she was going to offer me a sandwich or mental health care. Hmmm....

Finally, she makes her way to me. As she draws closer I can see that she is crying and think "Oh, she does think I'm homeless and probably schizo since I just risked my life to safe a bird." She stands in front of me in silence, crying for a minute. Then it hits me "she hit the bird and feels guilty. Thinks I am the bird killer confessional and wants to tell me her sins."

Nothing. ......

Finally, after a eternity of awkwardness she says, "that is the nicest thing I have seen a young person do in a long time."

My thought: "Should I tell her I am 28? Nah. Let her live the dream."

Then in a moment of absolute horror, she steps forward and embraces me.

So here I am hugging a stranger at 8 in the morning, while she cries, on the interstate, covered in bird germs.

This is one of those moments that my friends and fram would say, "Only you, Jess, only you."

So she cried, and I couldn't. I felt like I was in Fight Club hugging people in the support group that I didn't belong to. So I patted her back and told her to go ahead and "it's okay."

We walk back to my car arm in arm and she hugs me again. This is only slightly less awkward than our first embrace. She asks my name and my background. We chat for a while and then feeling slightly more vulnerable than I would have liked at such a early hour, I told her I had to go. I thought "do we exchange numbers or insurance providers, here or what. This is beyond any experience to know the proper etiquette." But, then she hugs me again and lets me go.

I. in good seminary fashion tried to find deeper meaning, but have nothing. So it is what it is. A series of random, meaningless tragedies and traumas that make up my life. Or maybe not. Too early to process this one.

Maybe I should take stock of the fact that everyone I encounter seems to be crying. Hmm....

Come Home

2008-03-15T12:19:00.001-07:00

I shared this with a friend last week and thought it couldn't be more fitting for this day.

Henri Nouwen wrote this

"There are two realities to which you must cling. First, God has promised that you will receive the love you have been searching for. And second, God is faithful to that promises.
So stop wandering around. Instead, come home and trust that God will bring you what you need. Your whole life you have been running about, seeking the love you desire. Now it is time to end that search. Trust that God will give you that all-fufilling love and will give it in a human way. Before you die, God will offer you the deepest satisfaction you can desire. Just stop running and start trusting and receiving.

Home is where you are truly safe. It is where you can receive what you desire. You need human hands to hold you there, so don't run away again. But, when you come home and stay home, you will find the love that will bring rest to your heart."

Home is not a location to which Nouwen refers, but rather, an internal state of peace and surrender to God. The distractions of life, business, and emotions pull us away from this center. We have to return there, dwell, and trust that no actions of our own can achieve this peace. We must go home, but to a home we seldom embrace. I get so lost in my words, actions, and ideas that I forget to return here. This is where my true self lies. I have no identity outside these confines, but still, I leave them. I become a blur, a xeroxed copy of myself. He knows that I get lost, but He always brings me back to this truth. In my abyss of nothingness, there is a light that connects me to reality. The only truth.....Him. He is my truth, my refuge, and my soul.

We put the expectations of God onto man and then wonder why we are disappointed. No one can fill that longing inside you on this earth. Human love, in all its wonder, is just that. Cling to the Creator of love. The originator of your soul. There will you find comfort.

Rosealia

2008-03-11T11:28:00.000-07:00

There are at least two versions of every person. The one they present to others and the one they keep to themselves. I have always been exceptional at hiding the latter. I think the burden of my private self might be too much for others. I felt that it would be a disservice for my friends, family, and framily to have to deal with messy Jess.

I have always struggled with my self image. I was raised to look your best, wear lipstick, and never let them see you without your "face" on. I rebelled against the first two, but I always keep my "face" on. I don't mean I always wear makeup because I hardly ever do anymore. I mean I keep the "mask" on.

A good friend of mine used to always sing "Rosealia" to me by Better than Ezra.

Where have you gone, my Rosealia?
Into the crowd, he'll never find you.
If you walk real fast, and you stay down low.
So many times, so many chances, this one could be your last.

[Chorus:]
You say no, no, no, the fighting has left you tired.
You say no, no, no, but the fighting goes on.
Put on your mask, wearing your cape.
Put on your mask, my Rosealia.
Put on your mask, wearing your cape.
Put on your mask, my Rosealia.

What has he done, my senorita?
His kind of love is going to kill you.
Do you fake a smile when you dodge the blows?
So many times, so many chances.
This one could be your last.

[Chorus:]
You say no, no, no, the fighting has left you tired.
You say no, no, no, but the fighting goes on.
Put on your mask, wearing your cape.
Put on your mask, my Rosealia.
Put on your mask, wearing your cape.
Put on your mask, my Rosealia.

I don't think that was really a compliment now that I think about it. The ironic thing is that most people compliment me on my transparency. I do share truths, but they are just really watered down truths. "I am depressed" equals a lot more than sadness,
"I don't think I can do this" means it might kill me if I do. "I'm nervous" means I am throwing up everyday I am so sick about it.

You see what I'm talking about? When did I start editing the truth for everyone else's benefit? I'm not sure. Maybe always, maybe recently, and maybe never. I suppose that it was mostly for my own benefit. If I become the great editor then the story will go how I want it to. If I cut out the boring emotional mess, then the story might be that much more appealing.

I suppose I am the perpetual writer trying to improve my heroine, trying to make her surreal and picturesque.

The frightening realization is that I have been writing fiction for a non-fiction story. Reality cannot have the perfect characters.

Of course, on a positive note, maybe my whole life has been a build up to a really lucrative writing career.

James Frey could take notes from me.

Peace of Mind

2008-03-10T07:24:00.000-07:00

I had one of those conversations you dread last night. My dear friend crying and sharing that she is now heartbroken. We talked about so many factors as to why this one especially stung. The feelings of abandonment, only heightened by the residual effects of childhood. She said, "I just wish I had a place that felt like home, somewhere I was safe and at peace." She meant a person, not a location. I knew what she wanted, what everyone wants. Love.

I listened for a while, but felt like a kid who had a cheat sheet for a test that my friend is failing. So I told her the truth. Peace was inside her.

No I did not pull out the yoga mat and tell her to assume the lotus position. I just thought this was the simplest truth I had. Sometimes I sound like the tranquility books they have for 99 cents at Wal-Mart. But hey, maybe those books really know what they're talking about!

I felt like Lauryn Hill, saying "this is gonna sound a little cryptic. Fantasy is what people want, but reality is what they need".

The peace you are looking for does not lie in another, but is found inside. She knew what I meant even if I did sound like a mystic. I know the aching she is feeling and wish I could take it from her. All I can do is share what is truth to me and hope that it may provide some comfort. I told her believing in something beyond yourself is hard, but comforting. She is familiar with the faith, but had recently divorced herself from it. She knows the answers. I just reminded her where home is.

Why do we look for comfort in another? Why do we think that anyone could cure the longing inside us? The void is not human shaped. We seem to repeatedly set ourselves up for failure to try to make someone fit in it. People only add to your life, they cannot create it. If your life is in shambles no one person can repair it for you. We put the most unrealistic expectations on those we love and when they disappoint us we are left shattered. I guess the balance really is the most difficult thing, wanting someone to be our everything, but knowing that they are not. How do you hold on, when you just want to let go? How do you love wholeheartedly without losing your whole heart?

I wish I could save someone the years of pain seeking those answers. I wish I could help my friend find the truth that lies inside her. I wish I could take the pain away.

I suppose I'll just listen and hope for her heart to heal. I hope she finds home. I just wish I could give her the shortcut.

Oh, and I did actually suggest she take up Yoga and she laughed. She told me take to my "green tea and ...." Well, she is from the east coast so I'll edit... At least I can make her laugh, there is always that.

I love you R.

This is for you.

The Littlest Snowman

2008-03-07T04:49:00.001-08:00

The day before yesterday I got a sunburn and yesterday it snowed in Wacko! A miracle in and of itself! I haven't seen snow in seven years so I was a excited, Zoe not so much!

A Prelude

2008-03-06T17:59:00.000-08:00

I think I learned the rules of the game relatively early in life. It seemed quite simple really, I watched the women around me, listened to their advice, and learned from their mistakes.

The basic tenants were this:

!. There is always a cat and a mouse in every relationship, and you never want to be the one doing the chasing.

2. Men don't want to hear about all your emotional baggage, so smile, and always wear lipstick.

3. In every relationship there is never emotional equality, make sure they love you more and not the other way around.

4. All men really want is sex, but if you give it to them they won't want you anymore. So tease, tease, tease.

Can you see the distortion of thought already?

So from a early age I have abided by the rules. I became the ultimate guy's girl. Simple, fun, and smiley. Oh, I did forget the lipstick part....Well, I conformed to most of them adamantly. However, like any player I did commit some tactical errors and did the following:

1. revealed too much, too fast
2. exhibited less than happy behavior
3. showed the need and desire for love
4. allowed intimacy to creep in

These instances, much to my dismay, ended in the predicted outcome of my female advisers. So I quickly regained my footing, learned from my own mistakes this time, and continued hardened, but wiser in my pursuits.

The thing was though this advice went against the very nature of who I was, I thought it was the only way to escape unscathed. In my heart I was a hopeless romantic and had thought that my vulnerability would not be a liability. The thing the advisers left out was that I also had the power to hurt, damage, and scar the hearts of those I encountered. After questions of this nature they responded with the rationalization that "all men are evil and shallow" and they would soon be "over it." Some of them did, but some of them didn't.

I was taught that there was some sort of penance that had to be paid for the suffering of womankind. I had been hurt by abandoning fathers, cruel boyfriends, and spiritual leaders. So who will pay the price? In accordance to my distorted teachings apparently any male that crossed my path. I thought it was not a game of revenge, but rather a game of love with the wrong directions. A game I didn't want to play, but also didn't want to lose. The stakes of this game were way too high.

I cannot blame my predecessors for trying to instill in me the survival skills they thought necessary to keep me from their pain. I realize now twenty-eight years down the line that it was just that, their pain, not mine to bear.

So I fold. I refuse to play. I will unlearn the rules.

Love is not a game, not a set of strategic do's and don'ts, but rather a truth that we find. The truth lies in knowing that true love doesn't require a risk as much as a gain. If you find a heart that knows that not playing is far more valuable than "winning." That is a heart without rules, and open to love.

So throw out the book, clear your mind, and quit playing. Love will find you.

Weekend Acquisitions

2008-03-04T09:43:00.001-08:00

Suede, orange heels from Mom!
Strange little box I couldn't pass up!

A very strange little fish, but so cute!

Home

2008-03-03T19:48:00.000-08:00

I grew up in a small town outlined by refineries on the Gulf of Mexico. A 2001 Houston Medical Journal said that our town had more breast augmentations per capita than Los Angeles that year. They should know, they got all the business. I always said we were a small town that pretended to be big. We needed to believe we were.

The hair was bleached, the skin was tanned, and the breasts were....well bountiful. You could spot most of us a mile away, except for me. Oh, I had my bout with tanorexia, and was even employed at one time or another by every tanning bed within a fifteen mile radius. (I had to feed the addiction.) Despite my increase in melanin I still felt a little off. My hair was almost black it was so dark and I could never quite achieve proper highlights. I always ended up looking like Kelly Clarkson on her season of Idol. It is funny in a place where I didn't really fit that I now feel I most belong or at least wish I could.

My family has more than five generations born and raised in this town. The family never even ventured farther than the street they now dwell. My grandfather, grandmother, uncle, great grandmother, mom, and stepdad all lived within half of a mile of one another. I spent most of my life thinking this is the way all families are, but realized after my exodus, that this was not the case. You can see where this story is going. So very Dickens of me. I spent all of my life dreaming of the places I would go, but then one day I got there. I got out and the strangest sensation came over me. I missed it. I missed home.

I missed my family, the smell of the paper mill polluting the air, running into people you know everywhere, and again my family. I thought my greatest victory would be in leaving, but realized it would also be my greatest heartache.

Don't get me wrong, I know I am exactly where I need to be in life. I just wish that it wasn't so far from them.

I wish that when I drive away that the image of my grandfather leaning against that garage with his hands in his pocket didn't need to be burned in my mind. I wish that every goodbye was not so epic, or my most horrendous fear, the possiblilty of it being my last. I wish that my destiny and contentment could lie in that coastal town with the salt breeze kissing my face. I wish that what I wanted could have been simpler, that choices were easier, and that being adult did not mean choosing. I wish I could have been content with marrying my high school sweetheart and living next door to my bestfriend. I wish I could be less intense and just settle down already. I wish my dreams could fit in that town.

I realize now that same family who won't leave, loved me enough to let me go. They planted a desire for something more, something beyond what I could imagine. They instilled these desires in me.

So I drove away today, tears in my eyes, realizing home is a place I will always have, I can take it with me. I am grateful that for family that thought I deserved more and believed that I could achieve it. I am thankful that they understand that for me living there would have been the death of a dream. I am thankful, just thankful. Thankful for their love.

I love you H's. I love you.

Gran Gran

2008-03-01T12:42:00.000-08:00

Grannyisms:

Gran:(As she is pinching my butt) You are looking good. Except this area seems to be getting bigger. Don't let that Jennifer Lopez confuse you.

Me: Gran, how do you know about JLo?

Gran: The same way I know about lesbians, the papers (magazines) in the grocery store.

Later on....

Gran: So I just don't understand this whole lesbian thing....I mean how does that work anyway?

Me and Mom: ...................silence.................

Me: Maybe you should ask Pal-Pal.

Even later on...

Gran: That Mom of yours is a case and a half.

Me: (Laughing)Well, she's your daughter.

Gran: Yeah, but she's your mother. (She laughs.)

Me: Yeah, I feel you got the easy out.

Much, much later on..............

Gran: What is this activity happening here on your chin? (pointing to a pimple)

Me: Gran, it's a zit.

Gran: No, no. You are much too old for those. Must be a mosquito bite.

Me: Whatever, you say Gran. Whatever, you say.

Gran: I think I have some mosquito spray in my purse. (she digs)

Me: We are indoors.

Gran: Well, you don't want anymore of those suckers, do you?

I give up.

Happy Birthday Gran-Gran! I love you. I am glad I am getting to spend this day with you.

Ashes to Ashes

2008-02-29T06:17:00.000-08:00

Nightmares, with just a tinge of dream. I had one last night that I can't shake.

I wake up ashes falling from my eyes and burns impressing my skin. Melancholy, disturbed, worn.

The fire burnt bright and I realized they were there. I felt the panic in my heart, so real, so poignant. I ran, panic stricken, looking, looking. Screaming, crying, and begging for resolution, for answers in breath.

Then I saw them. I ran with all my might and jumped in his arms. He held me like a little girl being carried home by her father, and let me cry. My aching, hollow cry. He is safe, but suddenly disappeared.

I am alone among the ashes. I see my photos, my things from the past. No people, just me and the dust. Searching among it for remnants of a life. Photos. Dreams. Nightmares. Truth. Lies.

I curl up among the ashes of this burnt life. I stay there, no one comes for me. I have faded into the darkness. No Phoenix will rise me. There is no one to notice my absence. I see my knees, dirty, and unwilling to help me stand. I must stay there wallowing in the pit of this despair. Loveless, hopeless, and fading with each pass of the wind. Soon there will be no ashes, even they will leave with the wind's urging. I hope now just to go with them, for no comfort can be found. Ashes to ashes. Let me fall away.

Maybe I have been reading too much Haruki Murakami.

"Everything passes. Nobody gets anything for keeps. And that's how we've got to live."

"I'm floating with the birds, I'm talking to the weeds, look what you've done to me. They know where the heartache is.

Oh Blah. There's some melancholy for you.

Just A Couple of Ducks

2008-02-27T06:45:00.000-08:00

There is a river that runs behind my apartment and there are always interesting scenes going on with the animal life. Last night there was a big commotion and I realized today that it was time for all ducks to pick their mates. Today there were several cute duck couples swimming along happily singing Jack Johnson tunes. Well, I thought they should be...

A friend of mine said that ducks mate for life and it got me to thinking, those birds must not have commitment issues. They must be smarter than us.

It is sweet really. I mean ducks all look the same to me, how do they not get confused?

I guess they just know. They just know.

Isn't amazing that an animal can recognize their perfect mate better than most humans? So I wonder who is really the animal in this scenario?

If you were to compare the activity that goes on in the pond to those in my complex I think the ducks would be considered way more civilized. Screaming, clothes thrown out windows, and crying. Those are just the neighbors on either side of me. Where has the love gone?

I want a duck. Not as a pet, I want my duck. I am ready to swim around, chew on each other's feather, and shake some tail feathers. I thought of one of my all-time favoraite sappy movies The Notebook when Allie talks about wanting to be a bird and Noah says: "If you're a bird, I'm a bird."

That's the way it should be, birds of a feather together forever. Saying....

I'll go where you go...

The Art of Breaking Up

2008-02-26T13:44:00.000-08:00

I am a serial monotonous. Oops, I meant a serial monogamist. Freudian slip, I think not.

I have had a trail of long relationships. I think in part because I am not very good at breaking up with people, either that or they beat me to the punch way before I had formulated a plan. I am a pusher-away-er. I usually frighten them with whatever neurosis is surfacing at the moment and I don't really have to do anything, but wait. The situation usually resolves itself.

Unfortunately, my childhood issues always influence the length of these relationships. I would confuse dating with marriage. These boys were not marriage material. I had been raised that you should never date someone you could not marry, but I realized, a little too late, that this proves itself a little later than you think.

I have made references to several boyfriends (poor things, this is what they get for dating a blogger. Don't worry though the boy I really like I don't blog about. I don't think... :) but really, all you need to know is, this is my most recent ex. The nice one, persistent, but nice.

I have up to this point never assaulted his character via blog, but you know there is a first time for everything. So here is the...

******Oh my mother, would like a special note mentioning that she paid his first and last month's rent, as well as, his deposit. She also furnished his apartment, right down to the groceries in the cabinet, because he couldn't afford to. She did not request any of the items back after the breakup, because she thought his injured heart was too fragile. All that to say..**********************

The P.

Today I was having a lovely day. I put on my Aunt Jemima head wrap and was cleaning, cleansing, and simplifying my life. It must be noted that I have a difficult time letting go of people, things, and sentiment. I torture myself at the thought of hurting someone. I was more than honest with my ex about how I felt and he was quoted as saying "I don't accept that." My friends and family intervened and said, "It is not up to him to decide your fate. You can be assertive and say it is not a question, but a declarative statement." Finally, after a very long time I got some boundaries and got free. I was guilt ridden for months and months after. Finally, after some serious reading of books about "Boundaries" I let go. Things have been calm and uneventful, until today. Today, I was as happy as a lark, when suddenly I got it.

The text....

P: Hey i got a late fee from block buster in orange

Hmmm...I suddenly remembered a "t" I hadn't crossed. We have a shared video membership. I am angry with myself for still having a connection that could be referenced via text.

Me: how much?

Thinking it is some obscene amount that was causing his soul to fester and thereby bother me on such a lovely day.

P: 9.31

The boy bought me a $10k engagement ring, but won't pay $ 9.31. Okay, well it is my fault. Not his. I will take care of it.

Me: I'll pay it.

End of conversation, so I thought.

P: they made it sound horrible when I called a second ago about it the statement they put on the account was like do not let jessica rent. Not authorized user make renter show id I was like well....

Me: So I can't rent on there? You know I pay the unlimited rental fee, which you use.

P: Ha i guess so they word it strongly

Me: Nice P. good passive aggressive move ;-)

P: Putting that little smile face on the end only taughts (he meant taunts) me more

Me. Well a smiley face covers a multitude of sins.. ;-(

Hmmm....The texts continued but really was of no importance. The thing that really chaps my hide is that I ran across some things he had given me today and felt bad about just throwing them away. After all, it is not his fault that I am a emotional mess, right?

Needless to say, the shredder is warming up as we speak. In the words of Henry David Thoreau, "Simplify, simplify..."

The moral of this story is never over-estimate your value in the eyes of others. Don't think they are heartbroken, pining, and missing you, trying to piece back together the shattered life you left behind.

They probably just want you to pay your late fees.

Apples, Onions, and Potatoes...Oh My!

2008-02-23T14:59:00.000-08:00

I heard a male voice yelling this morning, but just ignored it. Hours pass and I still hear this same voice ranting and raving about something! I look out my window and see some of my neighbors staring at this cause of disruption. My apartment building, as of late, has become a lower class Melrose Place, but still, this was in the middle of the day. I expect most noise and arguments to occur at night when the tenants are good and inebriated. I, being concerned about domestic violence, listened from my patio. It turns out that no females were in danger but, rather this poor fellow had apparently been cuckolded by his girl the night prior and was heartbroken. Loud, but heartbroken. Realizing that no authorities should be called, I quietly went back in my apartment to leave them to their dispute. It made me think how lucky I was that I had no drama of such high caliber in my life for years. It also made me think "how do people get in these situations?" After much thought I decided it was all based on choice of produce. Yep, that's right, I said produce.

I think in relationships you can be one of three things: an apple, onion, or potato. I know these choices seem a little exclusive and you are saying, "But, I want to be ,a banana." Well. trust me, you don't. You will see my rationale soon.

Most people are attracted to and end up choosing an onion. The white perfect layers build mystery and excitement. We can't wait to peel back the layers and see what is next. There is a constant feeling of anxiety, but it also makes for an incredible rush. We think "ohhh, there is so much to this person; they are so deep, so mysterious." The truth of that matter is they just stink, but we are blinded by the dimensional aspects of their character and thus are blinded to reality. The truth of the matter is they aren't being mysterious, just deceitful, and like all good onions, they leave us in tears. Just ask my neighbor.

The potato. Poor potatoes. There is nothing really wrong with this type, they are what they are. Predictable, kind, and maybe fun it you slice or dice them. They are still just a potato. They don't hurt you, they don't help you, they are just there. Once in elementary school, they blindfolded us, (perverts, right) and cut up pieces of apple, potato, and other things to see if we could distinguish between the tastes. They instructed us to pinch our noses to block the smell and bite. All the kids thought it was so cool but couldn't tell the difference between the apple and the potato.

Idiots, I could tell.

I could tell three years ago when that apple wasn't on the tree yet. Don't mess with my taste buds. Anyway, my teacher kept accusing me of cheating, but I politely informed her that "a potato is still a potato," eyes closed or open. All this to say, I can spot a potato but really much prefer apples.

The apple. Ahhh, the fruit that led Eve to stray! This is the object of our idolatry. This character is perfect. He has layers, a nice outer skin, a perfectly textured middle, and consistency all the way through. These are hard to find, I hate to say it, but true. You know with each bite it will only get sweeter and sweeter. No tears, no bland taste, just sweet delicious goodness!
I don't know why more of us don't have the apples, oh wait, yes I do, because we get impatient. We get hungry and think I need it now! So we end up with the other when we could have had a sweet fruit.

I have to say to each person, you are never the same produce. I am sure I have been someone's onion, potato, and I hope one day to be someone's apple. You have to know that there are apples out there. You have to believe that life is not supposed to be spent yelling outside of an onion's apartment or wondering 'what could have been' if you wouldn't have settled for that darn potato.

Finally, before anything else, be your own apple. Find that joy, happiness, and peace can lay beyond 'that' someone else. Knowing that you are someone's apple may be the best step to avoiding those onions.

Know that you are sweet and probably delicious.

That sounded a lot dirtier than I meant it to. Oh well.

Happy shopping!

Thursday Thirteen

2008-02-21T05:25:00.000-08:00

13 Things I Wish Could Happen.....

13. Find my copy of Sputnik Sweetheart and someone would read it aloud to me.

12. Have a remote control to fast forward and rewind time like in "Click."

11. Drink all the Coca Cola I wanted and somehow still be healthy.

10. Really not miss french fries. (Dieting, can you tell?)

9. That the framily could be together every weekend in one place.

8. All my fears about relationships, intimacy, and marriage would magically disappear.

7. Danael would be the happiest he ever has been.

6. Katy would wait on me till she started procreating, so our babies could play together.

5. C would work out some of his awkwardness with girls....nah. We like you just as you are.

4. I would go to sleep at normal hours and awake at them also.

3. James McAvoy would be my bestfriend.

2. Have bestselling-recording breaking novel that would surpass ole J.K. Rowling.

1. World peace....okay cliche, but had to be said.

THe END.

Sole Mate???

2008-02-19T10:55:00.000-08:00

Cad and I started a very interesting conversation about theology and marriage, last night while I was in the bath. Which is still soaking in today. I realize that this topic is in the forefront of all single, Baptist ministry kids in their late twenties to early thrities.

He asked that age old question that plagues all us singles, "Do you believe in the one?" Cad and I have been friends for many years with a few absences here and there, and probably had this same conversation with different answers each time since I was 18. The variable being whether I was angry with men or in love. He, however has been more consistent in his answers. He thinks that it is impossible to have just one with the factors of divorce, death, and disdain. The three d's.

I would have not so gently rebuked him in my younger days, but can see the validity of his statements. Please don't think him cynical or bitter, just honest in his assessment of a soul mate. So then this led to what is a soul mate? How do you define those words?

For a lengthy conversation the best definition I could stick on Cad could best be described with a allegory of foot apparel. Get it sole, soul?

The pun could not be avoided, my apologies.

My assessment is that boys seem to look at relationships the way the average woman does at heels. They believe there are lots of pretty heels out there; some are just more comfortable than others. They are wise and take in to account the cost (how much risk involved), the upkeep (high or low maintenance), and the support (is she going to withhold sex, when she's mad?) but ultimately they believe that there are lots of nice heels out there that they could purchase and be happy with.

Hmmmm. I am a little different. I have spent most of my life lusting over Jimmy Choo, Christian Louboutin, and Manolo Blahnik. The cult of Sex and the City did nothing if not exacerbate this disorder and obsession with shoes. I pray, wait, hope, and dream of the day when I can slip my precious little tootsies into those long awaited ecstasy-on-a-stick shoes. Of course you are wondering what to do with said feet in the meantime.

You ask, "Does this mean you go barefoot now?" No, of course not. But could I continue in any state of joy knowing that my Choos would be no better than my Issac Mizrahis from Target? I would not. I might pull a "Girl in the Red Shoes" and surrender to the nubs.

I believe in a sole mate. The perfect shoes for my feet.

This being the case how can I not believe in a perfect mate for my soul?

In all my fears of intimacy, marriage, child rearing, and such I believe that I will find someone who be my "Choo." I found a perfect story of a sister soul who was cynical, but found a mate at the most unlikely moment.

I Get It...

2008-02-18T08:35:00.000-08:00

I unplugged for most of the day yesterday. No TV, just music with the windows open, writing, and prayer. I wrote a blog early in the morning and that was it. Pay attention for this blog will be important later. I prayed a prayer I had never before, "Speak to me." I usually specify to God what He should speak to me about like all his foolish children, but yesterday I decided to trust his soverignty. Speak to me.

I decided to go to a new church and was really excited about it. I printed out directions, left 30 minutes early to travel 7 miles and felt very good about my venture. I have a very bad sense of direction and frequently get lost going to places that I have been to numerous times before, so that is why I allotted so much time for travel. Here where the directions: take a right on Herring Avenue and go 4 miles, then take a left on Chapel road and there is the church. Sounds easy enough, huh? So you would think I would make it there way ahead of time.

Wrong.
I ended up in a really dangerous neighborhood and pulled over at a little fiesta at one of the houses. Luckily, my mother is a Spanish teacher so I stumbled my way through some questions and got what ended up to be some seriously misinterpreted directions. I ended up driving through a state park on a one way road and couldn't turn around. I drove and drove and drove. I totally had no chance of making it to church. So I decided to enjoy wherever this scenic route was taking me, but not before I got incredibly frustrated and begged to just make it to church. "I just want to go to church, is that so wrong God?"

Then finally after 45 minutes of driving down this very beautiful tree lined drive I literally came to a stop or rather a wall. A beautiful wall built out of stone on the top of a cliff. I see several couples with there arms around one another leaning and looking over this wall and thought, "Why not?"

I get out of my car and walk over and I see it. A ravine with trees that looked over the whole city. I never even knew this place existed. I was in awe. Absolute awe. I found a empty space isolated from the couples and leaned againist it. I looked all around and took in all the beauty. There was a brief second here where I considered thrusting my body over the side, but decided that probably wasn't the message God was trying so send.

" Yesterday I wrote this before the adventure.

Love is a cliff I am afraid to step forward on, fear of it crumbling beneath my feet. I feel your hands clutching to my shoulders, warning me not to go.
Stay.Stay with me. There is comfort in this solitude, comfort in this ghost, and if I leave it I fear the atrocities that hearts can bring.
I wish things could stay the same, but also wish to forget.

I know in life that things either change in growth or die in stagnation. I have to change, I have to grow. The pains of a new heart seems unfathomable, but it has to be renewed, it has to live.

Can you build me a new heart, oh God? Will you release me from this marriage of death? Can he leave me here to breathe in new life? I deserve it. I think I even want it.

Then, quite suddenly I saw it. A sign that said it all, "Lover's Leap

Alright. Alright. I get it God. You have an amazing sense of humor..

I am on a freaking cliff called "Lover's Leap" and I am contemplating sharing my heart. Nice one God. I just didn't know you were this literal.

I get it, I really get it.

So I guess here I go, I will try to leap.

The Heart of It

2008-02-17T09:06:00.000-08:00

If I know the rules, can I change the course of the game? If the walls surround it, can the turn of the right stone bring them down?

I can't sleep in this bed of grief anymore for the flames consume me and I know if I stay one day only ashes will remain. It is warm here, hot beneath the fires of my complacency. Wax melting from my fingertips and covering all that I touch. Will anything burn this strong again? Will anything brand its impression on my heart?
If this fire goes out will a spark rekindle? Should I give it back to you, this gift of grief? Will you think me ungrateful to return all that you have left me with?

Love is a cliff I am afraid to step forward on, fear of it crumbling beneath my feet. I feel your hands clutching to my shoulders, warning me not to go.
Stay.
Stay with me.
There is comfort in this solitude, comfort in this ghost, and if I leave it I fear the atrocities that hearts can bring.
I wish things could stay the same, but also wish to forget.

I know in life that things either change in growth or die in stagnation. I have to change, I have to grow. The pains of a new heart seems unfathomable, but it has to be renewed, it has to live.

Can you build me a new heart, oh God? Will you release me from this marriage of death? Can he leave me here to breathe in new life? I deserve it. I think I even want it.

Let me free...

Hero in Her Sky

2008-02-12T11:54:00.001-08:00

Fatherless, such a cliche. There are very few girls that I encounter today that have not had absentee fathers. I realize that it is only a cliche because it is true.

I felt like I had tackled my dad issues at a rather young age, or at least I thought I did. Once in a great while some older, wiser, masculine figure will bestow attention on me and I become the embodiment of Cosmo Kramer.

I remember once in college that my boss, who was slightly creepy, told me he would be whatever I needed in life. A father, a friend, or anything else. I remember being so repulsed. Sick, as I heard those words come oozing from his mouth. The compassion repulsed me. The closeness, the thought of intimacy, sounded nicer than the reality of its presence.

I did crave closeness but, honestly hated any real threat of it. I realize now that this played itself out in my dating life. I have had a series of emotionally unavailable boyfriends and relished the time with them.

The high school days were filled with the football-player-prom-king who had the emotional depth of my wallet, in college the immature-soccer kid whose insecurites baffled even me, and in adulthood the kind son-of-a-banker who just wanted me to reciprocate his kindness. I remember being asked by friends what I saw in each one of them. My mouth would say, "they were cute" but my heart would say "no danger of being loved."

I cannot blame these boys for falling into my pit of despair, because I did an amazing impression of being healthy. I realize now that the people I truly loved, where the ones I pushed away. I thought like a good martyr I would sacrifice myself to save them from their own demise. I think if you took a survey of the men in my life they would say I failed miserably at this. I thought that I did make great efforts, despite myself, but still I failed. Acceptance is the first step to recovery, right?

In my ripe old age of twenty-eight I have realized that this resentment has altered my view of God. When people say "God, the Father" I picture someone with a cigarette hanging from his lips and smell of beer pouring from his breath. Not healthy. (Wondering if the smell of beer and cigarettes on a male's lips will always make me crave intimacy. Need to talk to the therapist about that one.)

I remember once during high school that I was getting ready for a formal at a friend's house and her dad came in while we were getting ready and asked if we needed anything. My friend griped for him to leave, but he paused and asked where her heels were that she was going to wear. She absentmindedly pointed to the bed where her new heels lie, still in the box with paper protecting each one. I watched, in pure amazement, as he took them gently from their home and said, "I am going to scuff the bottom of these on the concrete so you won't slip." My friend flippantly replied, "whatever, dad." He smiled at me, asked if I needed mine done as well, and left the room. It took every bit of strength I had to make it to the bathroom before letting the tears come.

I wished that there had been someone who would have screen my dates or threatened them with firearms if not home promptly. I wished that someone would have yelled at me for my skirts being too short or my shoes too tall. I wish that I knew who will walk me down the aisle. I wish...

Then I stop, breathe in, and realize that though I want those things, I don't need them. I have a Father to surpass all fathers. I think how lucky I am to be loved by Him. I realize that God is faithful to provide for those deficits in our lives. I have been blessed to have a grandfather, who is a wonderful man of God, who was more than I could have ever dreamed of.

I realize that life is not a series of deficits. I realize that my identity lies not in what I didn't have or am not. Not in the absence or presence of any earthly man. I belong to something greater. I am defined by a Heavenly presence, one that will never be absent.

My hero is in the sky.

A Time to Age?

2008-02-11T10:45:00.000-08:00

I was journaling today and realized mid-sentence that one day somebody could read these words. I got this vision of myself at my death bed surrounded by people asking me, "what exactly did you mean by this?" Yikes.

It is strange to think that one day I will no longer be current, but rather discarded like last month's Vogue. I would like to think I will be that eccentric old lady that wears her bra on the outside of her clothes just for shock value. My grandkids (how optimistic of me) will grow tired of my stories of "when I was young" or about the time "I swam naked in the lake" or whatever it may be.

My mother is not one for sentiment. She has very few pictures from growing up. No journals that I have yet to discover or anything juicy I could snoop through. I, on the other hand, have boxes upon boxes of pictures, letters, and things given to me over the years. A box specifically labeled "love letters" so that I might have evidence to my one day frustrated husband that I was once loveable.

I needed these things for evidence. Evidence that I lived and had, though small, made a legacy of my own. My hope is that something, whether it be a word, or thought will stand the test of time.

I am not afraid of death and never really have been. I thought it strange and romantic in that southern-grotesque-Flannery O'Connor-sort of a way.

It is fearing that I might lose this passion for living that fears me most. So I pray and hope that my fire never goes out. I hope I will always live in "expectation of the dawn." I hope I still flip people off occasionally in traffic, laugh loudly at inappropriate times, still stare at the stars with amazement, and love the taste of that salty sea air.

After all life is indeed a most precious gift.

I just wish it could have left out the gray hairs.

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

2008-02-10T15:47:00.001-08:00

The following picture is not the ex being referenced, but who cares, they are all the same in my book! ha!

Today's blog is retrospective piece. The things I wish I said and the things I actually said.

Our heroine was driving with the sun beating down upon her face and the wind blowing through her hair when she decided to stop for a rest and to attain pistachios for her long journey.

She had made it safely to the register when she felt warm breath against her neck and a familiar whisper in her ear...

"I once knew a girl that lit a fire and didn't stay to watch it burn,” he whispered.

A chill went up my spine, back down again, and made residence in my stomach. The feeling of naseau that only an ex could induce.

I wished I turned and said, "Why would she do that?" but what I really said was “Awww hell."

He laughed and said, "Apparently, the flames got too big and she was afraid it would consume her." (Yes, this is a thinly veiled sexual innuendo.) What a jerk!

I wished I had said, "Smart girl. She was right to leave."
But I actually said, "Oh“, (Long, awkward pause as he watched me squirm beneath his gaze.

“So how have you been?” I added nervously realizing it was again my time to speak.

"Burning", he said, the arrogance dripping from each syllable. (He totally set me up for that one.) "How are you?"

"Happy." I said, but wished I added, "and flame retardant."
I did gain some mental acuity and quickly added, "So how long have you been practicing that plagirized line?"

“Since the day you disappeared,” he added.

Not the right response, crap. Think, think, think… “Well at least I know you are still a good criminal, always taking things that aren’t yours. I didn’t know that fraud was part of your racket.”

“Jess, you are mistaken you wrote them to me. They were meant for me,” he added smugly and looking at me in such a way that I knew he wasn’t talking about the letters.

Dang it. I am spent.

“I have to go,” I mustered.

“Of course you do. (He paused.) Morality is calling. When you want the fire back in your life you know where I am.” He added.

“In hell.” I should of said. “In hell” but said instead. “It was good to see…(slight stutter) Well, bye.”

The moral I take from this is that hindsight really is 20/20 and that even the voraciously witty will have a off day. And most importantly that I need to never stop again for freaking pistachios!!!

Ex:1 Me:0

Footnote: I wrote the stuff about the fire to him in a letter once. So don't give him credit for being all dashing. He is not creative, just a thief.

Stranger Than Fiction

2008-02-08T07:23:00.000-08:00

I had a lovely cup of sleeptime tea last night and fell into the most beautiful, pure, and holy sleep I think I have ever experienced in my life. I put my phone on vibrate to be alerted in case there was a framily emergency and drifted off into a lovely dialogue with the sandman.

Then quite suddenly I am awakened by the scary shaking of my phone screaming desperately from my glass desk. More from fear I jumped and answered it. I see that it is 3:15 in the morning and my chest tightens.

I hear, "Why don't you answer when I call," in a female voice that is mixed with both anger and intense sadness. I quickly scan the recesses of my mind to identify this voice and decide what response will be appropriate to this inquiry.

Some background on my phone records: Yesterday I received several calls from a number I did not recognize and thus didn't pick up. The area code was 409 which is the area of my home town nicely referred to as the Golden Triangle. I thought whoever said caller was would eventually break down and leave a message thus revealing their identity. I was wrong and was now in a quandry.

"We were sleeping," I say. (The third person nature of twitter has now infaltrated my mind and I was referring to myself as a we, or just too exhausted to use the correct pronoun, or was possibly was referring to me and my dog. The jury is still out on that slip.) This would be a fatal mistake.

"You are with him, aren't you" she asks. I suddenly realize that this caller does not know me and I have made a serious error. For anyone that knows me, knows that I am usually in bed by 11, a committment phobe,and barely talk to males, more less share a bed with one.

"No, there is no him." Very suddenly I hear a gasp and a cry on the other end. "I know you are. I know you are" she cries. I have concerns at my dry and emotionless voice, but at this point I am still not fully awake and obviously sound heartless when I am tired. She didn't believe my attempt at the truth.

"Who is this," I ask. "You know damn well who I am," she exclaims with pure anger. She then starts full out crying and suddenly I get a grip on my slumbering mind and tongue.

"Look, I think there has been a huge misunderstanding here. I don't know who you are or who your boy is that is obviously hurting you. I am in seminary and the only boys I talk to live hundreds of miles away from me with no threat of real intimacy."

She laughs. "Who is this," she asks. Relief.
"My name is Jessica and I think you have the wrong number." Silence.
"Oh" she says a little embarrassement seeping into her voice.

"I must, because Devon* doesn't know any girls smart enough to say something like that," she added sheepishly "I am so sorry." And starts to cry again.

This is one of those momemts where I would normally hang up, but for some reason I didn't.

"Look I don't know you, but it is pretty obvious that you are hurting. The way I look at it any guy that makes you wonder where he is at three in the morning is not worth your time. I have been there and life is too short to go around aching." I added.

Silence. Uh-oh I crossed the line.

Silence. Oh shite.

"You are nice", she says. Thanks, I add.

"I just want him to love me, you know" she needed understanding, begging for it.

"I know, I know. So what is going on?"

She told me. I stayed on the phone with a perfect stranger for a hour and half. It is by far the strangest moment of my life. We had nothing in common except a confusion. She obviously of a different background, present, and probably future could be related to through pain.

I couldn't go to sleep after that until about seven this morning. I kept thinking I guess two things will always bond mankind together love and pain. Amazing, huh?

Well, either that or cell phones.

The hotline is closed.

Caffeine Free Diatribe

2008-02-07T11:26:00.000-08:00

Let me preface this by saying that I have given up soda, which I am pretty sure is what makes up 60 percent of my body, along with refined sugars and I feel an incredible amount of rage that will now be dumped upon all that I encounter today. So beware: Sugar deprived woman on the loose!!!

I have always been a guy's girl. The earliest memories of my life include friends that were always of the male persuasion. I am not a tomboy per se but, just have preferred many of their activities. I grew up in a small, rural town on the Gulf of Mexico and spent most of my time fishing off the jetties with my grandfather. Don't get me wrong, I can label tango with the best of them, but ultimately, I feel most at peace on the water with him at my side. I have had brothers in the form of many really good friends that have spoiled me with their calming, simple natures. I prefer this quiet nature and introspection that spending time with them would bring. My grandfather and I would sit in silence for hours at a time but, would say more than any conversation I have had with some of my female friends. I think I realized today why.

I have a list of "Golden Girls" that I would like to exclude from the following tyrade. Kate, Carrie, Danielle, Jessie, Aurora, Julia, Rach, Ash, and many others that I have left off. These women are my soulmates: intelligent, strong, caring, honest, graceful, and full of life. The bloggers that I have encountered also should be added to this list of those to exclude. As for the rest of you...

I am, at times, ashamed of my sex. I am ashamed of the manipulation that we employ on one another. We should be bonded together in sisterhood, but instead we lie, shred, steal, and deal to get what we want the other woman to do. Why can't we just ask, not manipulate? Are we so insecure and afraid of rejection that we must insinuate what we want? Should we risk damaging the precious gift of friendship to reach selfish means?

I realized today that "we" do. I say we, meaning 'they.' Because it is not all of us as a gender. There is one distinct difference: we are all women, but only some of us are ladies. A lady is honest, full of grace, and upright. We want to encourage one another, love another, and learn all that we can be from one another. Anyone with the right genitalia can be a woman, but not everyone has the capability to be a lady.

Audrey Hepburn was a lady. Full of grace, charm, and charity. Britney Spears, well isn't that name synonymous with trash and Cheetos? In the infamous words of Carrie Bradshaw, "I can't help but wonder..."

Where have all the ladies gone?

I have many times thought that I needed to write a book to the girls of my generation and younger explaining to them the basic rules of this game called life. I think it is because so many of them lack good examples of what God intended a "woman" to be. Maybe they don't realize that dressing, acting, and talking like a whore, does not a classy woman make. Maybe they don't know that boys, though they will solicit their temporary affections have no desire to hold it. It is a catch-22. We think if we give up part of ourselves that we will in turn earn respect or love, when really it is the retention of values and inner self that earns it. More than angry, I am saddened. I see precious jewels that have yet to be polished and are estimating their value at way too low a price. God must be brokenhearted to see his precious girls this tarnished.

So I say ....

Just be honest. Say what you want.

Get some integrity, be strong and self-sufficient.

Realize that your value does not lie in yourself but, something so much greater.

Cover up, for God's sake, it is winter.

Love yourself enough to say no. No. No. No.

Love God. Just love Him.

And I am spent. Oh, wait to quote my framily and Meg Ryan. "Use the corresponding face for the corresponding emotion."

The game is up, we all want to be loved. Quit pretending you don't.

Wordless

2008-02-06T13:05:00.000-08:00

She says it all.

Writing To Reach You

2008-02-05T10:41:00.000-08:00

September 2004: A letter to my future self

Dear Jess,

The night has captured you; you cannot see past this darkness. The pain has become embedded in your identity and you think it will never be separate of who you are. I know that this aching is merely the birthing pains of a rebirth of hope. You have to look past the darkness that has infiltrated you and poured out upon all that you touch . There lies a light that will warm the depth of your heart. You will love again; you will live again.

You will find beauty in the sway of the trees, the dance of the rain, and you'll see the man in the moon again. The girl of summer, lost among the woods with laughter in her eyes, will be again. Life will have joy once more.

You once said there was "beauty in affliction" and you must cling to that now. The loss of hope is truly the death of the soul. So breathe it all in, the hate, love, loss, and the life, for there is beauty in all."

Lou Andreas-Salome wrote...

"Mourning is not as singular a state of emotional preoccupation as is commonly

thought; it is, more precisely, and incessant discourse with the departed one,

in order to draw him nearer. For death entails not merely a disapperance, but

rather, a transformation into a new realm of visibility. Some things are not just take

aways, but are gained, in a way never before experienced. In the moment when the

flowing lines of a constant change and effect become paralyzed for us, we are imbued

for the first time with its essence: something which is never

captured or fully realized in the normal course of lived existence."

Keep breathing,

You Are My Face

2008-02-04T12:52:00.000-08:00

"When everybody's feeling all alone I can't tell you who I am."

Know thyself, for you will be your own constant companion. A friend told me once that you have to get to know yourself like you would a stranger. You set boundaries, change limits, and grow so the process is never over. You make introductions, cast aspersions, but can never leave.

I think that I know myself pretty well. I know that I feel most at home when I am near a body of water, sleep way too much, and talk in third person a little too much lately. I know that I hate injustice, feel there is a song to express every feeling, and miss my family terribly. I know that I could be alone forever and survive, but maybe not thrive. I know God has called me to do something that seems overwhelming at times, but I must do. I know am terrible about answering my phone and am a little too dramatic at times. I know I guard my heart like the "Hope Diamond" and anyone that has the endurance might not have the strength to capture it. I know that nothing can feed my heart like poetry. I think Dylan Thomas wrote me down one too many times. I know that I get lost even after having been to the same place multiple times. I know that I secretly judge people who don't read, harshly. I know I have the capacity to love, but am afraid of the vulnerability that accompanies it.

I worry and wonder, cry and think, but ultimately come to this. He knows me best, because He made me. So when I get lost among the thoughts and details that I think define me. I stop and remember that He knows the best version of me because He made me. I think I like the knowledge of that the best.

I love them!

2008-02-04T08:35:00.000-08:00

I am the short one in the middle.

Good Ole' Lou

2008-02-03T17:22:00.001-08:00

This is from my old blog, so might be a redundant, but maybe its new to you.

A boy called me Lou Salome once and I never knew why. I thought he was comparing me to the biblical Salome that asked for John the Baptist's head on a platter. Not nice. He then started what would be a ongoing obsession with Rainer Maria Rilke and Lou Andreas-Salome.

The correspondence has become a large collection on my book case.

Rilke writes this to Salome...

"Leaving you, through rain-darked streets

I steal quickly and feel

That everyone whose eyes meet mine

Can see the blazing in them

My blissful, resurrected soul."

& also wrote

Longing sings:

I am a way of preparing you

And I smile gently when you stray;

And I know that out of loneliness

you will emerge into the greatest happiness

And will take my hands.

I walk with you through all prose

And obliquely teach you

the deep lesson in every fate.

Which is: to see in each small rose

The great Spring's unfolding.

I will walk with your through all prose. I think that is my favorite quote of all time. There is nothing that could take away or add to the journey. Sigh....

Superbowl? Yeah, that is today.

2008-02-03T09:34:00.000-08:00

I have stumbled upon something quite wonderful. I think it may be my new addiction. For all you sports fanatics out there here is a way to fill your day before the big game.

Bad news no calling in sick or slacking tommorrow Dan read this

Weekly Dose of Culture

2008-02-02T16:38:00.000-08:00

"Star" by Francesco Clemente

As a added bonus for all of your listening pleasure I have included the ultimate
"Melancholy Saturday Playlist"

get the cheese ready here comes the wine...

"Crush in the Ghetto"-Jolie Holland
"Elephant"-Damien Rice
"How's it going to Be"-Third Eye Blind
"Pale Green Stars"-Everclear
"Everything'll Be Alright"-Joshua Radin
"Denton, TX"-Damien Jurado
"Three Cigarettes in an Ashtray"-Patsy Cline
"Colors"-Amos Lee
"Hold Me Down"-Motion City Soundtrack
"Be, be, be Your Love"-Rachel Yamagata
"Omaha"-Tapes N Tapes

"Molly's Song"-Kings of Leon

Bridge is Closed

2008-02-02T10:09:00.000-08:00

The sun is out today and it feels of summer. I soaked it up. Letting it heal this week away. It has been a hard one. My mind has been spinning and I have felt out of control. The darkness tries to come in and steal the light away. I won't let it.

I wish I could write out all that has happened, all that was felt, but realize that it is of no consequence. It is just noise.

I have been alone in my solitude for so long that the presence of others is at times hard to bear. I think in solitude you are alone without being lonely. Henri Nouwen says, "that solitude is the furnace of transformation." He also says that solitude is a inner dispostion and can be maintained in the presence of others. He uses the analogy of a castle with a drawbridge, that is surrounded by a moat. He says that many people leave their drawbridge down and let others run in and out as they please. The result, he says, is a constant feeling of despair, worthlessness, and vunerability. We wonder why others don't appreciate our castle. Can there truly be value in something that is always available with no boundaries or rules?

My castle has been ravaged this week. Today I am cleaning house. This is not to say that no one should be permitted in the inner circle of our hearts and lives, but we should have to slay some serious dragons before we let down that bridge.

What are the entry requirements? Love, respect, grace, and whatever else you need to feel appreciated and valued.

His book "Inner Voice of Love" focuses on where our values lie and how they should be determined. It is one of my favorites because it always reminds me Whose I am.

My heart caught fire this week for a purpose so much bigger than me and I want to focus on that.

The white noise will just have to fade.

Silence, solitude, and the his words are my peace, my bread, my life and all that I need.

The Framily Photo

2008-02-01T08:25:00.000-08:00

Dan and I couldn't make it so they improvised. How awesome are they?

In Bed With You

2008-01-31T16:02:00.000-08:00

I crawled in bed with my grief and wrapped it around me, keeping me warm. Some days it leaves me, some days it haunts me, some days I curse you, some days I'll leave you, and everyday I think of you.

"The weight of love weighs heavily upon me, robbing my lungs of all air. I can't concentrate on any one thing for too long, the very thought of you makes me faint and dizzy. In the early hours of this day, I could imagine being entangled in your warmth. Apart from you a few hours and you feel too far off. Suddenly, a distant memory, your lips, your hands. I feel I have stolen an embrace that was not mine to take. I fear the outcome of my audacity."

Foreshadowing, perhaps from my own words.

"I miss you when your close", he wrote. I miss you and you are gone.

I wish I could forget the Emily Dickinson poem or the E.E. Cummings words written in your hand. I wish that red leather journal would have never began and the summer beneath the trees wasn't so sweet. I wish the sound of that laugh wasn't so warm, the way you said my name, and these words would empty from my heart. I wish to forget, to remember, to let go, to hold on.

I want an answer from a silenced voice.

Let me taste life's sweet joy, haunt me no longer.

I want free of you.

Thursday Thirteen

2008-01-31T12:10:00.001-08:00

Whatever,

/Top 13 Reasons I should go Back to Bed

13. It is windy, okay, so not equal to a rainy day, still might be considered "inclimate."

12. I got about two hours sleep last night and I hate everybody today.

11. My dog told me to.

10. My eyes are carrying so much luggage, that they could put Louis Vuitton out of business today.

9. LOST does come on tonight and I need to be fresh for Jack, it has been months.

8. I just feel sick today, crap, I was just sick. No do-overs.

7. I watched Hairspray (the newest one) and it was so sacchrine it could make any one ill.

6. Twitter is down, thus, life as we know it, must stop.

5. Chris kept me on the phone too late filling my head with memories of the past and which, in turn, interrrupted my sleeping.

4. Look, "cause I feel like it" is all the excuse I need.

3. I miss my Framily.

2. Twitter is down, did I mention that?

1. Twitter is down, so no twexts from la framilia. Sad day.

Look don't correct any misspellings or grammar errors. I am too grumpy.

A Lot Like Love

2008-01-30T16:02:00.000-08:00

I fell in love today. Nothing new, just something that had always been there. Neglected by my misunderstanding of its value. I don't know how something can be so much a part of who you are and who you want to be and still truly not love it. Perhaps, over time we become so jaded by a presence that we forget the reason we choose it in the first place. We forget the feelings it would inspire, or the comfort it could bring, or perhaps we never really knew it in the first place. I am saddened at time lost, but understand that learning like love is always a process.

So today the vail is lifted and I start to see. The mystery, the presence, and the magic. The word to paper, the blood to my lips, I truly have hold of it or rather it has hold of me.

Wisdom reveals in its own time, I just want a glimpse.

Can I take you all in? Breathe you in.

Not a person, just a belief, a presence, a heart filled.

Happy Birthday C...

2008-01-29T19:14:00.000-08:00

C's "Walk Down Memory Lane Greatest Hits" Mix

"Walk on the Ocean (Acoustic)-Toad The Wet Sprocket
"#41- Dave and Tim Reynolds
"Mean to Me"-Tonic
"Motorcycle Drive By"-Third Eye Blind
"A Lifetime"-BTE (first time I ever heard it, in the car with you and Stu)
"Mexico"-James Taylor
"If You Could Only See"-Tonic
"This Time of Year"-BTE
"How's It Gonna Be"-Third Eye Blind

Only a few, but a flashback to younger days. Have a good one!

The Apartment

2008-01-28T21:39:00.000-08:00

Maybe Baby?

2008-01-28T20:48:00.000-08:00

So I am reading this book that I love and hate. I love it because it makes me think through things that I have never given much thought, I hate it because it makes me think of things I have never given much thought.

The topic at hand is du, du, du........contraception.

Weird, I know, but very interesting. So the book is about the conversion of two protestants to Catholicism. First, let me state that I attended both types of churches. I enjoy both for many different reasons.

So one stance is that contraception undercuts the sovereignty of God and that we should not try to limit the gift of life. I see where this is feasible, but would I say that everyone should throw out the birth control and start popping out the babies, no.

So my question is can you subscribe to a belief that you consider okay, maybe for yourself, but not for everyone else? Can I support the idea of something that I have no concept of its reality?

I don't have kids so could I understand all the difficulties of parenting one child, much less many?

Anyway, that is where my head is today. I am feeling like a PC still processing...

Romeo is not Dead!

2008-01-28T08:14:00.000-08:00

Who says boys don't still climb balconies and proclaim their undying love?

Romeo in olden days, "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight!/ For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

Ok, so the modern version might go a little differently.

Young girl walks onto her balcony, looks to her left at the balcony next door and there is her Romeo so young, so fair.

He was urinating off the balcony.

"Hey", he says with pure poetry.

I would have settled for some EE Cummings or even a quote from the movie Candy.

For example,

I Carry Your Heart With Me (I Carry It In My Heart)

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Candy's Poem

things were very hot that year.
all the wax was melting in the trees.
he would climb balconies,
climb everywhere,
do anything for her,
oh danny boy
thousands of birds,
the tiniest birds,
adorned her hair.
everything was gold.

I would have even accepted a line from "The Office".

My standards are too high.

The conversation continues...

"I was pretty sure all the apartments in this building have restrooms" I said.

With a laugh that only a donkey would envy, "Ahh, Ahh, Yeah, but I thought this is more fun."

We discussed our majors, he was exercise physiology, of course.

"So you want to like, uh, come over. I will help you over the balcony."

"Tempting, but no." I say.

This is why I will never marry.

Alas, love is lost again.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

2008-01-27T10:16:00.000-08:00

Going to Bapolic Mass

My tall soy, sugar-free, no whip, cinnamon dolce latte

Feist playing with the windows open

Going to the Springs

My dog running through the park

Praying the Rosary

Reading the Apocrypha

Starting Kyle Lake's book

A Perfect Day already...

We named the puppy...Stud B

2008-01-25T13:33:00.001-08:00

For those who read this Dan came up with a wonderful new nickname.

Thus we christen him STUD B.

Something tells me this guy may get his own label.

Thursday Thirteen on Friday

2008-01-25T08:11:00.000-08:00

This tribute goes out to my incredible friend Dan. The top 13 Tribute.
Dan and I ten years ago when were just babies.

13. He dyed his hair orange once just because.

12. He lets me gossip about things that were so six years ago.

11. Even though he is married and with child never makes me feel stupid for not being or having.

10. His laugh is contagious and wonderful.

9. Even though we live far away our friendship never seems that way.

8. I know I can tell him anything and he still loves me. He is more myself than I am.

7. For my birthday one year in college he made shirts that said, "Today is Jessica's birthday" and wore it all day. He even wrote on every surface on campus in chalk saying the same.

6. He will call me and sing spontaneously to me and then let me go. And loves Everclear as much as I do.

5. He has the biggest heart of any boy I know.

4. He lets me be silly, depressed, happy, or sad when I feel like.

3. He is honest with me in the kindest way, especially when I date someone ridiculously stupid.

2. Because he is brave, braver than anyone.

1. Because he is my bestfriend now and always.

Love ya Dan. You are wonderful!!!

I came, I saw, I argued...

2008-01-24T11:47:00.000-08:00

I started a post yesterday about the boy's club also known as my graduate school. I will pick up from there.

I love philosophy, theology, and classes where there are no right or wrong answers. I feel that these classes challenge me to think outside the conforms of everyday thought. I know that these topics are not for everyone and am well aware that at times they seem a little irrelevant. I assume that if you are enrolled in these courses at a graduate level then you must access the parts of your brain necessary to participate in class discussions. You know what they say about people who assume...

There is nothing that arouses more anger in me than when student A makes a truly original observation and then student B then restates inserting a few different words and says the exact same thing. I heard this on several occasions today and was fuming. Much to my professor's credit he did notice and then made reference back to student A- the originator of the topic.

So rather than interject into these discussions I let my anger mount and then whoever the last student B is of the day I then proceed to tear them to shreds with my vicious,well premeditated, attack.

Today, hell hath no fury like my diatribe.

The topic at hand was revelation. The revelation was argued in two points, general and particular. Student B, after verbally plagiarising everyone in the class, then began to say that revelation has to be continuous and then proceeded to tell the professor that his metaphor of a "spiritual sewing machine was inaccurate."

I then could hold back no longer. I informed the student that if they looked in a dictionary they would find that the very essence of the word revelation could not imply a continuous stream of events but, rather one moment of epiphany. I then proceeded to show with my hands the motion of a sewing machine needle. The going in and out of the fabric representing the points of revelation in a life. I proceeded to berate and show student B how incredibly stupid he was.

Then, I was done. Student B had now returned to the fetal position and would know better than to ever speak again. Everyone smiled and gave nods of approval. Then quite suddenly, I felt something strange and foreign.

Remorse. What a bucket of suck that is.

Channeling Meg Ryan in "You've Got Mail" I finally said all that I wanted to and now felt horrible. Even though graduate school is harsh and cruel. I am not. Doesn't everyone have the right to express themselves no matter how stupid they might be? Isn't that what Britney Spears has taught us, that America is the land of free, home of the brave, and the place were we have the right to be as ignorant as we want to be?

Everybody has to learn lessons differently I guess I was the object of my own lesson today.

Lucky Number Seven

2008-01-22T22:31:00.001-08:00

So here goes, 7 pretty irrelevant (but oh so intriguing) things about me.

7. I like the taste of soy milk and think that if I put it on or in any food it neutralizes the unhealthiness.
(For example Captain Crunch=unhealthy+Soy Milk=healthy.)

6. I had insomnia for many, many years but, can sleep pretty much anywhere (including sitting up.)

5. I like my coffee lukewarm not hot. (I know it is gross.)

4. I have a tendency to judge people on their choice of soft drink beverages.
(Oh, she is a PEPSI person, I see.)

3. I love books and having them around me makes me feel like I'm home.
(Thus I have them in every room.)

2. I save everything that people give me. I always want to remember.

1. I thought 'ITapen' was some sort of Phillipino language choice for many years on my cell phone.

28

2008-01-22T16:46:00.000-08:00

Maybe it is because he's my age. The loss of any life is heartbreaking, but this one haunts me.

I get frustrated knowing that so many lives have been lost to neglect. Neglect of mental health, neglect of faith, or just neglected from love.

I think Hollywood deaths and their exploitation are so heartbreaking. I know it is their job to entertain us, to be attractive, and smile, as we gawk. I guess we think they belong to us. Their choice in vocation becomes a waver to any freedom and invasion of privacy. They are in our home, on our TV, and on our magazines. So they must be ours. They waved their right to a life the minute they appeared on that screen.

Hollywood, a group of people that have gotten everything they wanted in life. Fame, wealth, and success. Modern day Solomons that haven't realized that it is "all meaningless". Imagine that everything you ever wanted was thrust upon you all at once and the reality "real life" is far behind you.

I would like to think that my morality would stay in tact and I would keep a "good head on my shoulders", but I don't know... I abandoned all for a lot less. Imagine wondering if the people around you really cared or were just trying to take a piece of you, while they could. Never knowing if your value lays beyond success. I question my own value when I am not "classically successful" and I know I have a family that loves me. I wonder how they stay sane as long as they do.

Perhaps, Hollywood really is the devil and they sold their souls for that multi-million dollar contract.

A life is still a life. One more that is lost.

"Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income. This too is meaningless."

Ecclesiastes 5:10 NIV

I've got a crush...

2008-01-22T10:20:00.000-08:00

So it is just a blog crush, but check out these...

Virginia and

Nico

and our newest blogger send her some props Kate.

High Fidelity

2008-01-21T21:02:00.000-08:00

The clock tower across the river just made it melancholy gongs. It is cold and dreary in this prairie town.

I miss those green grass nights with expectancy filling our nostrils with the intoxicating fragrance of youth. Where are those young days and the endless star filled skies? The salt of the ocean still on my lips and the taste of hope still on my tongue. The bravado of youth barricading me from all reality.

Now Edith Piaf's Avant Nous echoing in my ears when it should be Nick Drake or Rachel Yamagata. Young, naive, and expectant. Jolie Holland taunting me with her cruel aching. Where are those Better than Ezra and Semisonic nights? The nights where the only longing was DMB/Tim Reynold's #41? Anyway. It is my mix tape called life. I should play want I want to play. Whatever that is...

Maybe for now I'll just shuffle.

What song describes your state of mind right now?

It Ain't Me Babe

2008-01-19T17:53:00.000-08:00

Hope Floats

2008-01-17T20:28:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a moment where things are crazy around you but, you felt very calm and very whole? I had mine tonight. I realized that things were fine just as they are. That nothing needed change or improvement. Tonight, not because it was extraordinary or because I fell in love or anything beautifully cinematic. I just know that things are just as they should be. I haven't felt like that in years.

Losing Bobby, quitting jobs, relocating, hating life, hating myself, and all the in-between have been a blur of discontentment. Then quite suddenly I feel awake, I feel complete, I feel hope.

Hope. What a incredible, vital part of life that I missed for so long. Nothing is any different than yesterday, but today it is here.
I told Dan that I felt like I was in the eye of an incredible storm, but everything felt still inside me. Peaceful.

I am thankful for this day. Thankful for Mom, Dani, Rach, Danael, and Kate.

You make this heart complete.

What about you, what are you grateful for today?

Tag, I'm it.

2008-01-16T18:27:00.000-08:00

Craig tagged me so here goes...

1. One book that changed your life...

Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger and Inner Voice of Love (I cheated)

2. One book that you have read more than once.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath.

3. One book you would want on a desert island.

You Alone Are Real To Me

4. Two books that made you laugh.

Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs (I just skimmed it, it is perverse) and A Year in Merde

5. One book that made you cry.

Evening

6. One book you wish you'd written.

One of those stupid Chicken Soup for the Soul books, they sell like crazy!

7. One book you wish had never been written.

Anything preceding Ann Coulter's name.

8. Two books you are currently reading.

In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day by Mark Batterson and The Correspondence:Letters from Rainer and Salome

9. One book you've been meaning to read.

Dreams of My Father by Barack Obama.( This is mine too Craig)

10. Five people that I tag: Chickbug, Holly, Gypsy, Maxie, Virginia

To Have and To Have Not

2008-01-15T10:50:00.000-08:00

An acquaintance of mine recently signed a book deal and will have the book published in the next year.

My internal response was a derogatory remark. My outer response was "Congratulations!"

Let me preface this by saying that my college manuscript lays hidden deep in the recesses of my cluttered closet. My current project has never been seen by human eyes except my own. I have had numerous literary opportunities thrown my way and in no way can I claim that I have been rejected by the publishing world. I can, however, be jealous, childish, and petty it seems at the success of another. This has made me examine the inner workings of my distorted response.

Why do we think the success of another equals failure of our self?

In the French culture women view each other as walking lessons to observe, make note, and ultimately grow from the daily interactions with one another. Why do we as Americans view everything as a competition? Now I am first to admit my own emotional immaturity, but, if you are honest, doesn't something flinch inside of you when you hear someone else is getting a promotion or a new car?

It saddens me that joy is not my first response, but rather, envy. Isn't there enough success to go around?

The mind is like a stubborn child that has to be retrained to behave properly. Those negative patterns are so easy to fall into. I have to repeat the mantra over and over again to get to the proper way of thinking.

So, I will outwardly rejoice in the success of others as if they are my own, but I might have to work a little harder on that inner dialogue; it seems to have a case of Turret's.

So what about you? Cursed anyone in your mind lately?

Juno

2008-01-12T21:19:00.001-08:00

GREAT QUOTES FROM THE MOVIE

Rollo: That ain't no etch-a-sketch. This is one doodle that can't be un-did, homeskillet.

Juno MacGuff: Can't we just like kick this old school. You know, like I stick the baby in a basket, send it your way, like Moses and the reeds?

Juno MacGuff: (Talking about her Mom) Oh, and she inexplicably mails me a cactus every Valentine's Day. And I'm like, "Thanks a heap coyote ugly. This cactus-gram stings even worse than your abandonment."

Juno MacGuff: You should've gone to China, you know, 'cause I hear they give away babies like free iPods. You know, they pretty much just put them in those t-shirt guns and shoot them out at sporting events.

Juno MacGuff: You should try talking to it. 'Cause, like, supposedly they can hear you even though it's all, like, ten-thousand leagues under the sea.

Thursday Thirteen

2008-01-10T11:25:00.000-08:00

Pick Up Lines drawn from movies and songs. I think it would be nice to hear and, who knows, might work.

13. I am uninsured right now, but for you I'd be willing to change that."

12. "I would walk through all prose with you."*Ranier

11. "I think I would miss you even if we never met."- The Wedding Date

10."You can't navigate me. I may do mean things, and I may hurt you, and I may run away without your permission, and you may hate me forever, and I know that scares the living sh** outta you 'cause you know I'm the only real thing you got". -Reality Bites

This one might need a little background knowledge first, but I love those 'emotionally unavailable boys' so I had to include it.

9. "The only line for you is the one that leads to me."

8. "This is gonna sound a little impulsive, a little insane, but you and I, we will be together someday."-Everclear

7."I want to taste the salt of your skin."-Third Eye Blind

This one might get you two tight slaps, but why not?

6. "You are the cheese to my macaroni."-Juno

5. "What value will there ever be in life if we are not together?"-Becoming Jane

4." I will buy you a new life, perfect, shiny, and new."-Everclear

3. "All right then, run, lady, and you keep on running. Buy yourself a bus ticket and disappear. Change your name, dye your hair, get lost - and then maybe, just maybe, you're gonna be safe from me."-A Long, Hot, Summer

This could be a little scary if lacking the correct level of charisma or confidence, or looks of Paul Newman circa 1960.

2. "There were lots of things I was game for that you never asked. Like? Eating ants... insulting the unemployed... loving you like crazy."-Love Me if You Dare

1. "You have bewitched me body and soul."-Pride and Prejudice

If You Want to Walk on Water...

2008-01-07T19:00:00.003-08:00

"When I'm faced with a challenge and I do nothing, it leads to distorted thoughts…that I am helpless, hopeless, and beyond change. This in turn leads to destructive emotions, loss of energy and motivation, damaged self-esteem, and feeling overwhelmed. The end result is self-defeating behavior, procrastination, avoidance, and escapism. These behaviors then reinforce negative thoughts, and the whole cycle spins downward...The single most destructive thing you can do concerning failure is nothing." (p.147 John Ortberg)

I thought this quote appropriately summed up the eye of the storm. Impotence: the feeling that there is nothing beyond this moment, this disappointment, ultimately leading to more of the same. We all have the "fight or flight" response ingrained in us, but choosing which one arises takes time and training. Soldiers are trained to fight. They learn to get up after each fall and to press forward because their lives truly depend on it.

I want to get up. I refuse to let failure stand in the way of my future. Isn't that what we have to do, to fight for our dreams? Dreams, after all, are the best life we can imagine for ourselves. Isn't that worth fighting for?

I think so.

So get out of that spiral today. I am.

Atonement

2008-01-06T21:39:00.000-08:00

Not what I expected... I had to sleep on this one. I have to say that I left the theater a little dissatisfied. I think my own expectations interfered with my final review. I did start reading the book but, made it no further than the first few chapters. They did an excellent job of capturing the essence of what I read. So to try and give an objective overview I will include some highlights.

1. The cinematography was incredible. There are great angles with beautiful shots.

2. James McAvoy is truly amazing. Just when you think he can't get any better, he does.

3. This is an incredible actress transition for Briony. It couldn't have been cast any better.

4. They have re-invented the villain. Sheer genius malice enwrapped in childhood innocence. Pure genius.

5. They capture you. I was tense on the edge of my seat. I felt like a voyeur watching a steamy, love affair.

With all this said I think it was truly an excellent, innovative plot line worth a watch. However, if injustice greatly bothers, you this film is not for you. There was no atonement, in my opinion. Dictionary.com defines it as the following: satisfaction or reparation for a wrong or injury; amends, reconciliation; agreement. I felt that in regards to the title, it must be tongue in cheek. Go see it and let's discuss it.

10 Things I Wish Would Happen

2008-01-05T11:17:00.000-08:00

I am ill. Sick, blah. So that being the case I am in a general state of woe and self-loathing. So this is my list of things I wish would happen since I would rather not focus on what is happening.

10. Third Eye Blind would come out with a new album. A good one.

9. I could write fifty pages in an hour.

8. EV would call and make my whole life.

7. I could make one person believe.

6. If you applied pressure to your lips your headache would go away.

5. There was one day a year where it was illegal to say anything negative.

4. My Chihuahua would let me brush her teeth so her breath would not be so bad.

3. All ex-friends or ex-boyfriends would hear amazing rumors about me like I moved to New York and married a millionaire.

2. I would be the second Billionaire best-selling author (after J.K. Rowling).

1. Today would be the day I could know.

Enchanted

2008-01-04T15:06:00.000-08:00

Thursday Thirteen

2008-01-03T19:02:00.000-08:00

Our 365 blog group is doing this, so here it goes.

Top 13 Autobiographical Songs and Their Significance

13. "Come pick Me Up" Ryan Adams
Ready to escape and start over. Tanna.

12. "Closing Time"-Semisonic
Summer of 1998, just graduated and hung out with FBC BC crew.

11. "Father of Mine"-Everclear
Truly embodied all anger and bitterness of my absentee father. Danael and I singing at the top of our lungs to any Everclear song.

10. "More than Words"-Extreme
First song I learned on the guitar. One time boyfriend and good friend taught me.

9. "Wild Horses"-Rolling Stones
Recent addition. Hope for the future. A new life far away.

8. "Hurt so Good"- John Cougar Mellencamp
I hear it every year on my birthday on the radio, its fate.

7. "Faith"- George Michael

6. "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"-any artist

5."Scrapbook"-Briley
It was written for me, so it is special.

4."Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk"-Rufus Wainwright
So many memories. Can't pin it down.

3. "#41"- Dave Matthews Band (Live with Tim Reynolds version)
Rain, Port Caddo.

2."Screaming Infidelities"-Dashboard Confessional
Introduced by BNewc and then sang loudly by Rach and I.

1. "Luckiest"-Ben Folds
Love.

The Power of One

2008-01-03T08:25:00.000-08:00

Okay, everyone it's time for the survey! The research for the book starts here. I hope that you will all contribute. All I need is your age and answers. There will be a series of questions posted about topics that affect us all. I want your honest opinions; all are important. I know that your views will give an accurate portrayal of contemporary society. So please take the time to answer and be a part of something that I hope will prove to be amazing! And please check back from time to time for the next set of questions. :)

Question 1: How old are you?

Question 2: In your opinion, what happens after you die, if anything?

Question 3: If you believe in an afterlife, describe what you think it will be like.

I look foward to reading your answers!

Thank you in advance.