It's been awhile.
Between 17-day stretches of work, keeping my apartment from looking like a bomb literally went off in the middle of it, and the complete madness of the holiday season, this baby slowly fell by the wayside.
But here I am, in that awkward spot between Christmas and New Year's, where you still feel like you should be celebrating but you have a week with no official anything to celebrate, and I find myself reminiscing and remembering, and it struck me that I needed to write something.
Staring down the barrel of 2011 really makes me back on the year that was...with one day left of 2010, I'm just wondering if it has any last crappy things to throw at me. You know, I like to do years in review, and normally I'd write them down in some notebook that I'd eventually shove in the corner of my desk and forget until next almost-new-year's-eve, but...tonight, I think I'll blog it out and that way I can't forget.
I wish I could look back and say that it was everything I'd hoped for, and that 2010 was so rockin' that I had nothing bad to say. I wish I could, but I can't. I know I've said it elsewhere in another post, but 2010 was overwhelmingly a shitty year for me, my friends, and my family. There were huge, messy romantic breakups; hernias; strokes; a lot of mental health issues for a lot of folks (myself included- meltdowns are not fun, people). There were car accidents, pelvis-crushing-tractor accidents, job losses, huge disappointing moves, psycho pseudo-exes, messy friend break ups, lost and stolen wallets and purses and laptops. There was a huge oil spill, there were earthquakes, natural disasters, tsunamis. There were so many awful things that it seemed like everytime we started to get ourselves up, the universe governing 2010 would kick us riiiiight back down.
But
But I can't lie and say it was all bad. There was a lot of bad, but then you have to take the bad with the good, and the year held a lot of that, too. I have to be grateful. I lived, I laughed, I loved. I moved. I worked towards transforming my life. I found my writing again. I graduated from my undergrad. I formed bonds with people that will never be broken. I made a difference. We all did.
And we made it to the other side. If nothing else, this year taught me to appreciate what I have. That doesn't mean just things-- stuff's nice, but it isn't the be-all. More than ever, I appreciate the time I have with the friends and family, and want to make the most out of it. You never know when this moment might be the last, so it's important to appreciate the time you have, and the people you have. I guess this realization has really been driven home this year, and it's something I'll take with me into 2011, so: thanks, 2010. Even though you really, really sucked, I guess you were worth it in the end.
I feel as though I need to write about my resolutions (yeah, I've got them...) but I'm going to hold off on that cliche until the new year officially begins: I have a sick song title for the post so I may as well wait-- what? I'm being honest!
I sincerely hope y'all--whoever may or may not be reading this-- had the very best December-holiday-that-you-celebrate ever, and I wish you lots of luck, love and happiness in the coming New Year.
Til 2011, friends,
Jmart
Friday, December 31, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
you say you're goin' to be a star, but to me you are
As I begin my insane stretch of seventeen-days-in-a-row-working, I find myself pondering a lot of stuff: keeping my apartment in one piece while I'm working, actually buying groceries and doing laundry, how the heck I'm going to get any sleep, how much wine I am going to try and consume unwinding--all the important stuff, of course
But lately, more and more, what's been on my mind is an intertwining of issues that I just can't seem to let go. And they are: weight/body image/self image/self esteem. In that vein, they also intertwine with my previous whiney-esque post about wanting to have a partner.
Here's the thing: so many people I know lately have been mentioning weight. And I'm of two minds about the whole thing. On the one hand (or mind, as it were), I find myself understanding where people are coming frmo when they say things like "I need to watch my weight" or "Don't let me eat another one of those chocolate covered confections" or mention holiday weight or say that they're trying to lose a few pounds- I've been there, I think we've all been there, and I'd be lying if I said that 100% of the time I feel 100% confident in my body image. And parts of me have wondered if maybe that's why I've had a hard time finding someone- because I'm not some thin attractive little thing (this is not altogether a frequent thought, but it has popped up annoyingly from time to time in the back of my mind--like I said, not 100% confident all the time).
But then
THEN I go blind with rage at some of the things people say, and my anger isn't targeted at them, it's targeted at...the universe? Society? Whatever unknown entity it is that makes us, particularly women but everyone, base their self-worth on how we look and how much we weigh? I rage at all of that, because I hear value-laden judgement statements about how someone is "being good" by bringing just a salad for lunch, because I know my friends think they are lesser than they used to be because they've put on a few pounds, because it actually even crosses my mind at any one point ever that the reason I'm single is because I'm a larger woman. I get so frustrated and angry at it because we live in a society where we raise our kids to believe that the perfect model on the magazine cover is real, even when she's airbrushed to shit; because we live in a culture where the media rules, and the media gives us such enlightening television as The Biggest Loser and Bulging Brides and a Rachel Ray narrative that tracks the weight loss of a teen because she is too big to go to prom. How can we possibly think this is okay? You know what? My anger is at society overall, but it's one we all participate in. When we watch a television show like TLC's Say Yes to the Dress: Big Bliss, a show about fat women trying to find wedding dresses, or The Biggest Loser or any other show that takes larger people and turns them into a spectacle, into some kind of freak show that we should all witness and then take as a warning so we don't turn into them- we participate. When we stay away from sweets because we're trying to be 'good' as though our behaviour with food weren't disordered, as if we were meant to judge our eating habits with some kind of value, usually negative, because our self-esteem is innately now tied to that which we require to live: we are participating.
I'm not suggesting that stopping is easy- in fact, I stopped in the middle of this post to eat the Domino's I had delivered and then felt guilty about having eaten that much (as a sidenote, to someone who knows who they are-- yes, I do still feel guilty sometimes. Guess my food-shame isn't all the way off, is it?). I think what I'm trying to get at is that I want people to think about their unhealthy relationship with food and with their weight and make changes to be healthy, not to be "good", and if you eat something that isn't the healthiest, you don't have to feel like you're bad or that you failed. This is just insanity...and I'm tired of being sucked in.
It's liberating to love yourself for who you are and what you look like, but it's a freaking bitch on occasion to get others to do the same. Isn't it time we all took a step back and said WTF?
But lately, more and more, what's been on my mind is an intertwining of issues that I just can't seem to let go. And they are: weight/body image/self image/self esteem. In that vein, they also intertwine with my previous whiney-esque post about wanting to have a partner.
Here's the thing: so many people I know lately have been mentioning weight. And I'm of two minds about the whole thing. On the one hand (or mind, as it were), I find myself understanding where people are coming frmo when they say things like "I need to watch my weight" or "Don't let me eat another one of those chocolate covered confections" or mention holiday weight or say that they're trying to lose a few pounds- I've been there, I think we've all been there, and I'd be lying if I said that 100% of the time I feel 100% confident in my body image. And parts of me have wondered if maybe that's why I've had a hard time finding someone- because I'm not some thin attractive little thing (this is not altogether a frequent thought, but it has popped up annoyingly from time to time in the back of my mind--like I said, not 100% confident all the time).
But then
THEN I go blind with rage at some of the things people say, and my anger isn't targeted at them, it's targeted at...the universe? Society? Whatever unknown entity it is that makes us, particularly women but everyone, base their self-worth on how we look and how much we weigh? I rage at all of that, because I hear value-laden judgement statements about how someone is "being good" by bringing just a salad for lunch, because I know my friends think they are lesser than they used to be because they've put on a few pounds, because it actually even crosses my mind at any one point ever that the reason I'm single is because I'm a larger woman. I get so frustrated and angry at it because we live in a society where we raise our kids to believe that the perfect model on the magazine cover is real, even when she's airbrushed to shit; because we live in a culture where the media rules, and the media gives us such enlightening television as The Biggest Loser and Bulging Brides and a Rachel Ray narrative that tracks the weight loss of a teen because she is too big to go to prom. How can we possibly think this is okay? You know what? My anger is at society overall, but it's one we all participate in. When we watch a television show like TLC's Say Yes to the Dress: Big Bliss, a show about fat women trying to find wedding dresses, or The Biggest Loser or any other show that takes larger people and turns them into a spectacle, into some kind of freak show that we should all witness and then take as a warning so we don't turn into them- we participate. When we stay away from sweets because we're trying to be 'good' as though our behaviour with food weren't disordered, as if we were meant to judge our eating habits with some kind of value, usually negative, because our self-esteem is innately now tied to that which we require to live: we are participating.
I'm not suggesting that stopping is easy- in fact, I stopped in the middle of this post to eat the Domino's I had delivered and then felt guilty about having eaten that much (as a sidenote, to someone who knows who they are-- yes, I do still feel guilty sometimes. Guess my food-shame isn't all the way off, is it?). I think what I'm trying to get at is that I want people to think about their unhealthy relationship with food and with their weight and make changes to be healthy, not to be "good", and if you eat something that isn't the healthiest, you don't have to feel like you're bad or that you failed. This is just insanity...and I'm tired of being sucked in.
It's liberating to love yourself for who you are and what you look like, but it's a freaking bitch on occasion to get others to do the same. Isn't it time we all took a step back and said WTF?
Saturday, November 27, 2010
i'm sorry that in your condition, the sunshine's been missin'
Wow.
There's so much to say, so much I haven't written down, so many life transformation things I didn't record in the last few weeks that the chick lit novel I eventually write off of this little endeavour as a means of making moolah will be lacking important details. Ah, that's probably for the best, since fiction will inevitably be more interesting. But a small recap of life up until today's rant is probably in order, so, here we go:
Country Wife ended. It was a great play, involved a lot of great people, and I had such an awesome time being involved that by the time the final curtain call ended, I was left feeling a little out of sorts. But that's the bittersweet ending of anything you enjoy: you get your life back in some ways, and lose a chunk of it in others. I did, however, make a sweet teapot and saucer cake. Picture to follow, eventually.
I moved. I am now the resident of my very own one-bedroom apartment, complete with extremely minor ant infestation, knocking noises in the wall from pipes and from neighbours, and a lack of cable tv altogether. I knocked the shit out of the ants and have since won that battle; I'm adjusting to the latter two, albeit a little slowly. But I do love having my own place; I come and go as I please and I decorate how I want and watch and sing and listen and dance how and when I want and it's marvellous. That's all on that, for the time being.
And so here we are. I'm about to start my second job, I am loving the first one, and can hardly believe that we're about to head face-first into the holiday season (which, given that I work retail, actually started like a month ago).
However, there feels like a little something missing. And I feel like I've figured out what it is.
A partner.
Ugh, and it pains me to say it, because I'm afraid that it makes me sound whiny and needy, and because I'm so fiercely independent in some ways that the idea of even needing something or someone makes me cringe a bit on the inside. But I think that's what it is.
What made me realize this small lack in my life, you ask? Well, tell you I will.
I drove around Vic Park tonight after they lit all of the holiday lights, and it struck me. It was fun to do on my own, the lights were amazing and made me feel very holiday, but part of me just wants someone to go walk through the park with and see them with and enjoy hocho while we stare at how pretty the snow and the sky are and how the lights twinkle just enough to make you want Christmas. I want someone to come over to my place, crash on my couch and watch an entire season of Friends with me because, if you recall, I don't have cable, and eat a bowl of popcorn and snuggle and stay warm because the outside world is too cold for either of us to bother. I want someone to share the holiday season with. And it's not as though I don't have friends or family to do that with, it's just...different. And it's strange for me because this doesn't happen to me very often, and because I'm not the kind of girl who wants or needs a boy to snuggle with most of the time, so it strikes me as awkward and weird that I do want that now.
And this rant has gone basically nowhere.
Bah.
There's no good way for me to get it out there without sounding like a whiny little single girl. And I am so tired of hearing my beautiful, happy, in-relationship friends tell me that I'm going to meet him, because I just want to meet him already and be as cute and coupley as they are. Because I deserve that for a bit, don't I? I don't want someone to live with me or eat up all my time, or take away from my independence...I just want someone to share the little moments with. For a change.
I guess all these things come in time.
So I will wait, and stop looking (because according to cliche that's when it happens for you) and will instead hunt down a girlfriend or six and together we'll enjoy the snow, the hocho and the lights. Because the holiday season's for sharing with people you love, in whatever capacity that may be.
There's so much to say, so much I haven't written down, so many life transformation things I didn't record in the last few weeks that the chick lit novel I eventually write off of this little endeavour as a means of making moolah will be lacking important details. Ah, that's probably for the best, since fiction will inevitably be more interesting. But a small recap of life up until today's rant is probably in order, so, here we go:
Country Wife ended. It was a great play, involved a lot of great people, and I had such an awesome time being involved that by the time the final curtain call ended, I was left feeling a little out of sorts. But that's the bittersweet ending of anything you enjoy: you get your life back in some ways, and lose a chunk of it in others. I did, however, make a sweet teapot and saucer cake. Picture to follow, eventually.
I moved. I am now the resident of my very own one-bedroom apartment, complete with extremely minor ant infestation, knocking noises in the wall from pipes and from neighbours, and a lack of cable tv altogether. I knocked the shit out of the ants and have since won that battle; I'm adjusting to the latter two, albeit a little slowly. But I do love having my own place; I come and go as I please and I decorate how I want and watch and sing and listen and dance how and when I want and it's marvellous. That's all on that, for the time being.
And so here we are. I'm about to start my second job, I am loving the first one, and can hardly believe that we're about to head face-first into the holiday season (which, given that I work retail, actually started like a month ago).
However, there feels like a little something missing. And I feel like I've figured out what it is.
A partner.
Ugh, and it pains me to say it, because I'm afraid that it makes me sound whiny and needy, and because I'm so fiercely independent in some ways that the idea of even needing something or someone makes me cringe a bit on the inside. But I think that's what it is.
What made me realize this small lack in my life, you ask? Well, tell you I will.
I drove around Vic Park tonight after they lit all of the holiday lights, and it struck me. It was fun to do on my own, the lights were amazing and made me feel very holiday, but part of me just wants someone to go walk through the park with and see them with and enjoy hocho while we stare at how pretty the snow and the sky are and how the lights twinkle just enough to make you want Christmas. I want someone to come over to my place, crash on my couch and watch an entire season of Friends with me because, if you recall, I don't have cable, and eat a bowl of popcorn and snuggle and stay warm because the outside world is too cold for either of us to bother. I want someone to share the holiday season with. And it's not as though I don't have friends or family to do that with, it's just...different. And it's strange for me because this doesn't happen to me very often, and because I'm not the kind of girl who wants or needs a boy to snuggle with most of the time, so it strikes me as awkward and weird that I do want that now.
And this rant has gone basically nowhere.
Bah.
There's no good way for me to get it out there without sounding like a whiny little single girl. And I am so tired of hearing my beautiful, happy, in-relationship friends tell me that I'm going to meet him, because I just want to meet him already and be as cute and coupley as they are. Because I deserve that for a bit, don't I? I don't want someone to live with me or eat up all my time, or take away from my independence...I just want someone to share the little moments with. For a change.
I guess all these things come in time.
So I will wait, and stop looking (because according to cliche that's when it happens for you) and will instead hunt down a girlfriend or six and together we'll enjoy the snow, the hocho and the lights. Because the holiday season's for sharing with people you love, in whatever capacity that may be.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
there aren't even words for how outraged this makes me
Okay. So you may have noticed a few things:
1: This post does not have song lyrics in the title.
2: I've been MIA for over a week
3: This post lacks my usual life pondering rambles
Why?
Because I am outraged. I need to process and come back with a coherent and intelligent response to this article, but right now, all I can do is post it. Post it and hope you read, and that you have adverse, angry reactions, too.
Here it is.
http://www.alternet.org/rights/148839/when_you're_forced_to_cheer_for_the_man_who_raped_you/?page=3
Please, please read this.
Thanks, blogosphere.
1: This post does not have song lyrics in the title.
2: I've been MIA for over a week
3: This post lacks my usual life pondering rambles
Why?
Because I am outraged. I need to process and come back with a coherent and intelligent response to this article, but right now, all I can do is post it. Post it and hope you read, and that you have adverse, angry reactions, too.
Here it is.
http://www.alternet.org/rights/148839/when_you're_forced_to_cheer_for_the_man_who_raped_you/?page=3
Please, please read this.
Thanks, blogosphere.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
hold yourself together like a pair of bookends
So yesterday, I bailed on all of the going-out-type activities I had semi-committed myself to. Instead, I had Subway with one of my favourite people, hung out in her living room with her mom laughing at silly things and watching Friends until the clock hit 2 am and switched back to 1. Then I climbed myself into bed, and fell asleep to whatever home improvement show was on HGTV and had the best sleep I've had in ages.
I told myself, and everyone I bailed on, that I chose a night in because I spent eight long, busy, broken-cash-register filled hours in retail, followed by running my bum off doing cues for The Country Wife and I think there was a lot of truth in that...it was maybe 96% of the reason I bailed and chilled instead.
But.
BUT
I know, deep, deep down in the dark corners of my soul that the other 4% of the reason was my fear of not fitting in, my insecurities that I am not actually a part of the group of people who invited me out last night, that the reason they invited me to hang out, go out, was that they felt as though they had to include me. Part of me feels like I've injected myself into their world and they must have felt like they had no choice but to invite me.
In other words, I felt a little bit like their world was a puzzle with a thousand pieces, and I am piece number one-thousand-and-one.
And logically, I know that's goofy. Logically, I know those folks only invited me because they actually wanted me to come out with them...Logically, I know, but emotionally, that 4% is there. It factored, albeit very minorly, in my decision to chill where I knew I would be wanted, happy, comfortable. (and near my bed- tiirrrred Jess).
It's an annoying 4%. And most of the time, it's a very quiet, mostly non-existant, 4%.
It's the days when that 4% screams out from deep down that I have to blog about it- because silly though it may be, part of life transformation for Jmart is figuring out how she feels, why she feels, and what she can do with those feelings- whether it be just acknowledging them (ie blogging them to death) or learning how to deal with them.
What a goofy 4%.
I told myself, and everyone I bailed on, that I chose a night in because I spent eight long, busy, broken-cash-register filled hours in retail, followed by running my bum off doing cues for The Country Wife and I think there was a lot of truth in that...it was maybe 96% of the reason I bailed and chilled instead.
But.
BUT
I know, deep, deep down in the dark corners of my soul that the other 4% of the reason was my fear of not fitting in, my insecurities that I am not actually a part of the group of people who invited me out last night, that the reason they invited me to hang out, go out, was that they felt as though they had to include me. Part of me feels like I've injected myself into their world and they must have felt like they had no choice but to invite me.
In other words, I felt a little bit like their world was a puzzle with a thousand pieces, and I am piece number one-thousand-and-one.
And logically, I know that's goofy. Logically, I know those folks only invited me because they actually wanted me to come out with them...Logically, I know, but emotionally, that 4% is there. It factored, albeit very minorly, in my decision to chill where I knew I would be wanted, happy, comfortable. (and near my bed- tiirrrred Jess).
It's an annoying 4%. And most of the time, it's a very quiet, mostly non-existant, 4%.
It's the days when that 4% screams out from deep down that I have to blog about it- because silly though it may be, part of life transformation for Jmart is figuring out how she feels, why she feels, and what she can do with those feelings- whether it be just acknowledging them (ie blogging them to death) or learning how to deal with them.
What a goofy 4%.
Friday, November 5, 2010
maybe this is all a part of my flawed design
My life is filled with updates: officially have a place, have several new interviews for an additional job, I am tired-- okay, that's not really an update, but I am and yet cannot get myself to sleep until I churn something out for this blog. Not of necessity in terms of wanting people to have something to read, but because my brain won't stop moving.
And as I was typing my next thought, I managed to get coffee all over my laptop's keyboard. I am a classy, organized kind of woman- crisis averted, though. The other day I also accidentally pulled the entire blind out of the wall. It never ceases to amaze me how graceful I am.
Anywayyyy....the point of this little post is that as of late I am realizing a few things. One is that I have some of the best friends in the entire world. And I know that everyone says this and it seems cliche, but honestly, I do. They pick me up when I'm down, support me when I need it, laugh with me, cry with me, understand my mood swings and my inability to be graceful...They're just incredible people. They're talented and pretty and funny and sweet, and a little bit fucked up (but hey, aren't we all?). They're sarcastic, and witty, and marvellous and they feel deeply, and they love hard, and they give life everything they've got. And with this realization comes this one: a lot of these friends are struggling right now. They're struggling like I have been, and in the midst of it all are supporting my life and my decisions and my madness. I feel like I need to do more to support them but in my craziness I don't really know how. So, I decided to get my feelings out the only way that makes any sort of sense to me- words. They probably won't be sensical, or mean a whole lot, but I think it has to be done. So here goes nothing, and everything, to everybody and nobody:
__________
You.
I know it's hard sometimes to believe the good things that people tell you. I know it's easy to dismiss words as just words, as things that lack significance and meaning, as those kinds of things that are uttered by people all the time without ever thinking because that's just what you do as a person when you want to placate someone.
I know all this. I know it, because I am guilty of the same.
Yet.
Yet I want you to know that my words are not meaningless. My words are not nothing, they're not useless, and they're not said without feeling, without thought, without heart. My words are honest, my words are true, my words are something I want you to read and re-read, to put in the back of your mind and keep there so that every single day when you start to feel like the weight of the universe is crushing down on you and the world is trying to fuck you every way to Sunday you have something to get you through the day.
I want you to take these words, and I want you to keep them locked inside tight, in that secret corner of your heart that you allow to still beat, to still live, to still hope for things to get better and brighter, prettier and positive...I want these words to live there, and I want them to thrive, so that you never, ever let that heart of yours go black, or cold, or stone, or sad, or broken altogether.
These words are not merely words, they are feelings, they are thoughts, they are emotions, they are me with you every single second of every single day, whether we're physically together or not.
And here, here are the pieces of me I want you to take with you wherever it is that you go:
You are strength personified. Always know that when you think it's all over, there's always a reason, a will, a piece of you that's there to push through and make it to the other side. Never underestimate your strength.
You are beautiful, not just in a physical sense, but in the way you light up a room with who you are and what you believe, on the inside of your skin and on the out.
You are talented. You may not see it, but there is something you do that is like no one else, something that you draw from deep in you that makes others stand and take notice, that awes me everytime I think of you, that makes me proud that you call my friend. Please always take pride in your talents. Please.
You are remarkable, for there is not another soul in the world like you, and you make my life rich just by being in it. If you were to leave me, and when you do, there is a giant, gaping you-shaped hole in my world and there isn't another person who could possibly hope to fill it. You leave big shoes for people to try and fill. They can't. They aren't you.
You are so smart. You're well-read, you're intellectual, you can carry on a conversation about any topic that you choose, and you can do so eloquently. Please always remember that a grade is just a number. It is not the be all end all, it is not the real way to judge whether or not you are intelligent it's just. a. number. Don't ever let a number make you doubt yourself.
You are hilarious. You make me laugh until I have tears running down my face, til my insides are sore from the convulsions, until I'm rolling around on the floor, until I can't speak because I've lost the ability to breathe. You are witty and funny in a way that no one else is. Please don't ever lose that, for the world would look like a thousand of my driver's license pictures if you weren't there to help make them laugh.
And last, but certainly not least, please know this: You are human. You're not infallible. You're going to make mistakes, say stupid things, do embarassing things, screw up hardcore, forget who you are and what you are, and where you're going and why you're trying to get there. You're going to drop things, forget things, walk into things, trip over things, have your heart broken, break someone's heart, say things and do things that will offend or hurt or make no sense at all, and that's okay. It's okay to be wrong, or off, or unsure sometimes, because you're only a person like the rest of us. Please remember that no one is perfect. Please stop putting pressure on yourself to be perfect because, in all honesty, I love you just the way you are. Please remember that.
Take those words with you wherever it is you go. Lock them in your inner safe and unlock them whenever you need them to get you through. Remember that these are more than words: this is me with you always.
Always.
And as I was typing my next thought, I managed to get coffee all over my laptop's keyboard. I am a classy, organized kind of woman- crisis averted, though. The other day I also accidentally pulled the entire blind out of the wall. It never ceases to amaze me how graceful I am.
Anywayyyy....the point of this little post is that as of late I am realizing a few things. One is that I have some of the best friends in the entire world. And I know that everyone says this and it seems cliche, but honestly, I do. They pick me up when I'm down, support me when I need it, laugh with me, cry with me, understand my mood swings and my inability to be graceful...They're just incredible people. They're talented and pretty and funny and sweet, and a little bit fucked up (but hey, aren't we all?). They're sarcastic, and witty, and marvellous and they feel deeply, and they love hard, and they give life everything they've got. And with this realization comes this one: a lot of these friends are struggling right now. They're struggling like I have been, and in the midst of it all are supporting my life and my decisions and my madness. I feel like I need to do more to support them but in my craziness I don't really know how. So, I decided to get my feelings out the only way that makes any sort of sense to me- words. They probably won't be sensical, or mean a whole lot, but I think it has to be done. So here goes nothing, and everything, to everybody and nobody:
__________
You.
I know it's hard sometimes to believe the good things that people tell you. I know it's easy to dismiss words as just words, as things that lack significance and meaning, as those kinds of things that are uttered by people all the time without ever thinking because that's just what you do as a person when you want to placate someone.
I know all this. I know it, because I am guilty of the same.
Yet.
Yet I want you to know that my words are not meaningless. My words are not nothing, they're not useless, and they're not said without feeling, without thought, without heart. My words are honest, my words are true, my words are something I want you to read and re-read, to put in the back of your mind and keep there so that every single day when you start to feel like the weight of the universe is crushing down on you and the world is trying to fuck you every way to Sunday you have something to get you through the day.
I want you to take these words, and I want you to keep them locked inside tight, in that secret corner of your heart that you allow to still beat, to still live, to still hope for things to get better and brighter, prettier and positive...I want these words to live there, and I want them to thrive, so that you never, ever let that heart of yours go black, or cold, or stone, or sad, or broken altogether.
These words are not merely words, they are feelings, they are thoughts, they are emotions, they are me with you every single second of every single day, whether we're physically together or not.
And here, here are the pieces of me I want you to take with you wherever it is that you go:
You are strength personified. Always know that when you think it's all over, there's always a reason, a will, a piece of you that's there to push through and make it to the other side. Never underestimate your strength.
You are beautiful, not just in a physical sense, but in the way you light up a room with who you are and what you believe, on the inside of your skin and on the out.
You are talented. You may not see it, but there is something you do that is like no one else, something that you draw from deep in you that makes others stand and take notice, that awes me everytime I think of you, that makes me proud that you call my friend. Please always take pride in your talents. Please.
You are remarkable, for there is not another soul in the world like you, and you make my life rich just by being in it. If you were to leave me, and when you do, there is a giant, gaping you-shaped hole in my world and there isn't another person who could possibly hope to fill it. You leave big shoes for people to try and fill. They can't. They aren't you.
You are so smart. You're well-read, you're intellectual, you can carry on a conversation about any topic that you choose, and you can do so eloquently. Please always remember that a grade is just a number. It is not the be all end all, it is not the real way to judge whether or not you are intelligent it's just. a. number. Don't ever let a number make you doubt yourself.
You are hilarious. You make me laugh until I have tears running down my face, til my insides are sore from the convulsions, until I'm rolling around on the floor, until I can't speak because I've lost the ability to breathe. You are witty and funny in a way that no one else is. Please don't ever lose that, for the world would look like a thousand of my driver's license pictures if you weren't there to help make them laugh.
And last, but certainly not least, please know this: You are human. You're not infallible. You're going to make mistakes, say stupid things, do embarassing things, screw up hardcore, forget who you are and what you are, and where you're going and why you're trying to get there. You're going to drop things, forget things, walk into things, trip over things, have your heart broken, break someone's heart, say things and do things that will offend or hurt or make no sense at all, and that's okay. It's okay to be wrong, or off, or unsure sometimes, because you're only a person like the rest of us. Please remember that no one is perfect. Please stop putting pressure on yourself to be perfect because, in all honesty, I love you just the way you are. Please remember that.
Take those words with you wherever it is you go. Lock them in your inner safe and unlock them whenever you need them to get you through. Remember that these are more than words: this is me with you always.
Always.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
and fire's a beautiful sound
I missed my blog's one month birthday. I hope that's not indicative of my maternal instincts--and I use that term sardonically. If you know anything about me by now, or you know me, you know I have sincere doubts about the notion of maternal "instincts"...anyway, that's a sidebar for another time. That and my promised wedding dress rant, which, I swear, is coming- I just keep getting distracted by other things I feel the need to ramble about.
I had my first few shifts the last few days, and let me tell you, they have been interesting. Given that I am a retail virgin, I think they went fairly well. Now I suspect that soon they're going to want to me to actually sell stuff, so when that happens, I will keep y'all updated. Because heaven knows that's bound to bring out the best and worst in some people, and therefore lend itself to hilarious story fodder.
I've been trying my ass off to find a place to live, not only because that'd be a good idea and a logical next step in life transformation 101, but because I feel truly awful to continue mooching off of my host family. They have been so good to me, and I don't want to hassle them any more than I already have, or overstay my welcome. The good news is that, after a few truly awful places that were in bad neighbourhoods, had tiny bedrooms or were in general weird shaped and weird looking, I think I have a real lead on a real possibility. I don't want to jinx it, but my fingers are crossed- because I can't wait to put my stamp on my own place. I can't wait to make something my own for the first time in ever, and have it look and be exactly how I want ti. So...fingers crossed, everyone.
Beyond that, all I've really done is write. Not just blogging, because I've evidently been slacking on that (as some of you have so kindly pointed out), but other writing: short stories, poetry, rants, spoken word rants, everything. And I have to admit, it feels awesome. It's so good to reclaim that part of me that's been missing for so long- soooo good.
Honestly, I've been pretty blogging MIA because I've not had a lot of updates, or life ponders, or anything worth reading, really- I've just been working and writing and existing. But I'm happy. And I'm learning to take it one day at a time, and to live in the moment. I'm enjoying where I'm at right now, with a focus on enjoying the here and now, and with one eye on the road ahead.
I had my first few shifts the last few days, and let me tell you, they have been interesting. Given that I am a retail virgin, I think they went fairly well. Now I suspect that soon they're going to want to me to actually sell stuff, so when that happens, I will keep y'all updated. Because heaven knows that's bound to bring out the best and worst in some people, and therefore lend itself to hilarious story fodder.
I've been trying my ass off to find a place to live, not only because that'd be a good idea and a logical next step in life transformation 101, but because I feel truly awful to continue mooching off of my host family. They have been so good to me, and I don't want to hassle them any more than I already have, or overstay my welcome. The good news is that, after a few truly awful places that were in bad neighbourhoods, had tiny bedrooms or were in general weird shaped and weird looking, I think I have a real lead on a real possibility. I don't want to jinx it, but my fingers are crossed- because I can't wait to put my stamp on my own place. I can't wait to make something my own for the first time in ever, and have it look and be exactly how I want ti. So...fingers crossed, everyone.
Beyond that, all I've really done is write. Not just blogging, because I've evidently been slacking on that (as some of you have so kindly pointed out), but other writing: short stories, poetry, rants, spoken word rants, everything. And I have to admit, it feels awesome. It's so good to reclaim that part of me that's been missing for so long- soooo good.
Honestly, I've been pretty blogging MIA because I've not had a lot of updates, or life ponders, or anything worth reading, really- I've just been working and writing and existing. But I'm happy. And I'm learning to take it one day at a time, and to live in the moment. I'm enjoying where I'm at right now, with a focus on enjoying the here and now, and with one eye on the road ahead.
Monday, October 25, 2010
standing on the edge of morning, the scent of sex and New Found Glory
My life is currently full of good news. Here's the list:
I am employed. I have spent the last week catching up with almost all of the people in my life who are important to me. I have learned a ton about baseball. I have been to my favourite bar. I have drank wine. I went and got my tragus pierced, something I've been wanting to do for literal eons. I've consumed sushi. I've had a singalong with Mia the Kia jammed full of hilarious friends. I have taken absolutely ridiculous pictures. I have laughed til I cried, and my stomach hurt from the giggles. Most of all, I've made a ton of new, happy memories.
I'm happy.
This is exactly what I was going for when I packed up the old life and left. And now, everything's coming up Jmart! (well, mostly)
I still have to find a second part-time job, and I need to hunt down a place to live- like stat. OSAP's knocking on my door, and I need to somehow orchestrate how to get all my things from the nord to the city I love. But you know, in the grand scheme of things, this life transformation of mine is working. And it makes me happy.
Isn't that something we all should strive for??
I am employed. I have spent the last week catching up with almost all of the people in my life who are important to me. I have learned a ton about baseball. I have been to my favourite bar. I have drank wine. I went and got my tragus pierced, something I've been wanting to do for literal eons. I've consumed sushi. I've had a singalong with Mia the Kia jammed full of hilarious friends. I have taken absolutely ridiculous pictures. I have laughed til I cried, and my stomach hurt from the giggles. Most of all, I've made a ton of new, happy memories.
I'm happy.
This is exactly what I was going for when I packed up the old life and left. And now, everything's coming up Jmart! (well, mostly)
I still have to find a second part-time job, and I need to hunt down a place to live- like stat. OSAP's knocking on my door, and I need to somehow orchestrate how to get all my things from the nord to the city I love. But you know, in the grand scheme of things, this life transformation of mine is working. And it makes me happy.
Isn't that something we all should strive for??
Thursday, October 21, 2010
the distance from me to where you'd be, it's only fingerlengths that i see
I've occasionally thought that "second wind" was an illusion that people created, something that one could only obtain after consuming excess amounts of caffeinated beverages. It seemed elusive to me and yet, tonight, the kind of night where I don't have anything special to be awake for, I have found this second wind. Minutes ago I was crashed on my bed, cell phone in hand, messaging someone dear to me who lives in a time zone so different that my night is his morning, and now, I am awake, fully, typing away at this here blog, with only the sound of the cold rain against the windows and this post's title's song playing in the room.
...yeah. In case you hadn't caught it yet, the titles of almost all my posts are song lyrics. Basically whatever song I've been listening to on loop that day. If you're interested, today's is "Set Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright. You're welcome.
So my current favourite song is playing against one of my favourite sounds. I love the rain. Really. Cold, warm, summer, spring, fall, there's something about the rain that makes me smile- maybe it's the artist in my soul that enjoys how everything looks when it's dripping moisture from the sky, or maybe it's the romantic in me who wants to stand in the pouring rain and kiss that someone special, a la The Notebook (how absurdly uncreative of me...). I don't know what it is, but when it rains, I smile.
And when it rains, I feel like writing.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my writing. Part of the reason I got into blogging, really, was to get myself back into writing; I wrote in high school like it was my job, as I suppose so many angst-ridden pubescents are wont to do. And then I lost it; I spent four years being academic and writing the papers they told me to write and reading the books they told me to read and being too busy to do a lot else that I lost my writing. I let it slip, I let it slide, I let it go, and in a way, I let a part of me slip, slide, go...I lost a piece of who I was.
That's so not okay.
One of the sweetest, brightest people I've ever known said something to me last night that's had me thinking ever since. She looked at me over our entirely-too-crisp-and-golden, artery-clogging-over-salted McD's fries and said, "You know, you're going to be successful in academics, if that's what you want to do. But I think you have something more, something creative and artsy, to give to the world". (DISCLAIMER: I may have misquoted that, because nobody's memory is perfect, but that was the essence of where she was going with it. So forgive me, mademoiselle, when you read this if what I've said is incorrect).
I haven't been able to get that out of my head. I've spent four long years being Jmart: the Academic that in some ways, I lost Jmart: the Artist. More and more, people who matter to me have been telling me that I need to write- a book, a play, poetry, whatever- and I think it's really starting to stick. Writing used to be who I was, and I let that piece of me die during my undergrad.
So here I am, reclaiming and reviving that bit of who I am. I'm bringing her back, Jmart the Artist. I've got a year off to do the things I want to do, and in this exploration, I'm going to find her, refine her, bring her back, so that I can once again be whole.
Or as close to it as I'm ever going to be.
...That wedding dress rant is still on it's way.
...yeah. In case you hadn't caught it yet, the titles of almost all my posts are song lyrics. Basically whatever song I've been listening to on loop that day. If you're interested, today's is "Set Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol feat. Martha Wainwright. You're welcome.
So my current favourite song is playing against one of my favourite sounds. I love the rain. Really. Cold, warm, summer, spring, fall, there's something about the rain that makes me smile- maybe it's the artist in my soul that enjoys how everything looks when it's dripping moisture from the sky, or maybe it's the romantic in me who wants to stand in the pouring rain and kiss that someone special, a la The Notebook (how absurdly uncreative of me...). I don't know what it is, but when it rains, I smile.
And when it rains, I feel like writing.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my writing. Part of the reason I got into blogging, really, was to get myself back into writing; I wrote in high school like it was my job, as I suppose so many angst-ridden pubescents are wont to do. And then I lost it; I spent four years being academic and writing the papers they told me to write and reading the books they told me to read and being too busy to do a lot else that I lost my writing. I let it slip, I let it slide, I let it go, and in a way, I let a part of me slip, slide, go...I lost a piece of who I was.
That's so not okay.
One of the sweetest, brightest people I've ever known said something to me last night that's had me thinking ever since. She looked at me over our entirely-too-crisp-and-golden, artery-clogging-over-salted McD's fries and said, "You know, you're going to be successful in academics, if that's what you want to do. But I think you have something more, something creative and artsy, to give to the world". (DISCLAIMER: I may have misquoted that, because nobody's memory is perfect, but that was the essence of where she was going with it. So forgive me, mademoiselle, when you read this if what I've said is incorrect).
I haven't been able to get that out of my head. I've spent four long years being Jmart: the Academic that in some ways, I lost Jmart: the Artist. More and more, people who matter to me have been telling me that I need to write- a book, a play, poetry, whatever- and I think it's really starting to stick. Writing used to be who I was, and I let that piece of me die during my undergrad.
So here I am, reclaiming and reviving that bit of who I am. I'm bringing her back, Jmart the Artist. I've got a year off to do the things I want to do, and in this exploration, I'm going to find her, refine her, bring her back, so that I can once again be whole.
Or as close to it as I'm ever going to be.
...That wedding dress rant is still on it's way.
Monday, October 18, 2010
you don't do it on purpose but you make me shake
So.
I know I've been slightly MIA on this here blog for the last little while (a fact someone pointed out to me at the dining room table this evening...you know who you are). I swear I have a good reason.
I'd like to tell the blogosphere that this good reason is that I've successfully obtained employment in my new/favourite city and have been frantically working away/apartment hunting/seeing friends/laughing my face off.
I'd like to. But that would be a lie.
Well, partially.
The reality is this. A good portion of my time here so far has been taken up by battling the Flu. Of. Death.
Seriously. It struck me down in what felt like a matter of seconds, and I've been out for three days. My status has progressed from feeling like I got hit by an entire VIA rail passenger train, to feeling like I got hit by a Mack truck, to today, where I feel as though it was just a mini-van that ran over the upper half of my body.
Yes, I did just compare my illness to being hit by vehicles.
And in all honesty, despite how incredibly brutal this illness has been, and how it's put me behind more than I would have liked in terms of job hunting, I have to say that I realize more and more because of this how lucky I am.
I have spent this past almost-week with a family that is so incredibly sweet, caring, kind and funny that I've never been more comfortable being deathly ill in a place that wasn't my own. Okay...that sounds really weird. Let's try that again.
You know how when you're sick, the only place you want to be is your own bed? Okay, now imagine being in your friend's family's home, one that you're semi-familiar with, but still isn't yours. Normally, this is the kind of thing that would make me feel even more miserable, on top of my illness, and yet, I don't think there's anywhere else I'd have rather been (okay, save for home, but since my momma's 6 hours away and can't drive atm, we scratched that option).
Everyone here has been amazing. They've sat up with me almost all night making sure I manage to keep something down (you're welcome for that image); they've fed me broth and tea and crackers; they've medicated me for all my ills for the last three days; they've given me my own room with a television; they've flattened my gingerale, checked to make sure I was still breathing after a 16-hour-sleep-a-thon, moved my car for me when it was in everyone's way, and generally just ensured that I had what I needed to be comfortable and work myself back into wellness. In essence, every single one of them has cared.
They've not just let me into their home while I try and make my life transformation, and have not just fed me and given me a bed. Instead, this special family has made me feel wanted, welcomed, and almost as though I was always one of their own. Their kindness has touched me in a way that very few do and even though I know that most of them won't read this, I feel like, on my blog, it has to be said:
Thank you. All of you. You are some of the most special people I have ever been lucky enough to come across.
Anddddd that's all she wrote. Literally. I think I've oversapped everyone.
Alright, I think it's high time I exited this massive post, stage left. My entire upper body is aching.
But as I do, I also need to say: In this last week, I have seen some of my most favourite people ever, have laughed more than I have in ages, have managed to get back into a drama production and have also had an interview. Fingers crossed for me folks. No matter the setbacks, Jmart's life transformation is officially underway.
Oh, and PS: expect a rant on wedding dresses soon. For serious.
I know I've been slightly MIA on this here blog for the last little while (a fact someone pointed out to me at the dining room table this evening...you know who you are). I swear I have a good reason.
I'd like to tell the blogosphere that this good reason is that I've successfully obtained employment in my new/favourite city and have been frantically working away/apartment hunting/seeing friends/laughing my face off.
I'd like to. But that would be a lie.
Well, partially.
The reality is this. A good portion of my time here so far has been taken up by battling the Flu. Of. Death.
Seriously. It struck me down in what felt like a matter of seconds, and I've been out for three days. My status has progressed from feeling like I got hit by an entire VIA rail passenger train, to feeling like I got hit by a Mack truck, to today, where I feel as though it was just a mini-van that ran over the upper half of my body.
Yes, I did just compare my illness to being hit by vehicles.
And in all honesty, despite how incredibly brutal this illness has been, and how it's put me behind more than I would have liked in terms of job hunting, I have to say that I realize more and more because of this how lucky I am.
I have spent this past almost-week with a family that is so incredibly sweet, caring, kind and funny that I've never been more comfortable being deathly ill in a place that wasn't my own. Okay...that sounds really weird. Let's try that again.
You know how when you're sick, the only place you want to be is your own bed? Okay, now imagine being in your friend's family's home, one that you're semi-familiar with, but still isn't yours. Normally, this is the kind of thing that would make me feel even more miserable, on top of my illness, and yet, I don't think there's anywhere else I'd have rather been (okay, save for home, but since my momma's 6 hours away and can't drive atm, we scratched that option).
Everyone here has been amazing. They've sat up with me almost all night making sure I manage to keep something down (you're welcome for that image); they've fed me broth and tea and crackers; they've medicated me for all my ills for the last three days; they've given me my own room with a television; they've flattened my gingerale, checked to make sure I was still breathing after a 16-hour-sleep-a-thon, moved my car for me when it was in everyone's way, and generally just ensured that I had what I needed to be comfortable and work myself back into wellness. In essence, every single one of them has cared.
They've not just let me into their home while I try and make my life transformation, and have not just fed me and given me a bed. Instead, this special family has made me feel wanted, welcomed, and almost as though I was always one of their own. Their kindness has touched me in a way that very few do and even though I know that most of them won't read this, I feel like, on my blog, it has to be said:
Thank you. All of you. You are some of the most special people I have ever been lucky enough to come across.
Anddddd that's all she wrote. Literally. I think I've oversapped everyone.
Alright, I think it's high time I exited this massive post, stage left. My entire upper body is aching.
But as I do, I also need to say: In this last week, I have seen some of my most favourite people ever, have laughed more than I have in ages, have managed to get back into a drama production and have also had an interview. Fingers crossed for me folks. No matter the setbacks, Jmart's life transformation is officially underway.
Oh, and PS: expect a rant on wedding dresses soon. For serious.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
at times you gotta go without knowin' where you're goin'
Do you ever wonder if you're going to be missed?
I mean, sure, it's easy for someone to say that they will miss you when you're gone, or to call and tell you that they do miss you while you're away, but have you ever pondered if they really do? Hmm...not to say that I doubt the intentions of friends and family members who tell me that, but there are times where I wonder what it means to be missed, and I wonder if I've made enough of an impact on the lives of those around me that when I do go away, for a day, a month, a year, forever, if I leave a Jmart-shaped hole in their lives that cannot be filled by any other, a role that is dedicated specifically to me that no other soul can fill. Am I goofy enough, funny enough, smart enough, sweet enough, responsible enough, friendly enough...anything enough to actually be missed?
Ah...I was going to go ahead and delete that whole paragraph because it sounds self-deprecating and frankly, a little bit stupid. But I'm leaving it, because those are thoughts I've thought and feelings I've felt and in a way I think it'd be untrue to me and the purpose of this blog to go back and erase them. To hit delete would be to betray my feelings- sometimes you know it's silly to think or feel a certain way, but your heart and your head don't always match. Isn't it better to honour how you feel and deal with it? So there. It's a silly rant, but it's out in the universe.
To end this thing on a more positive note, I had the best day off ever, and now have new hair. Phase one of transformation= complete.
And it's t-7 days until the move.
Phase two of transformation is rapidly approaching. The nerves are climbing, but so is my level of excitement. Beware, world, Jmart's on her way.
I mean, sure, it's easy for someone to say that they will miss you when you're gone, or to call and tell you that they do miss you while you're away, but have you ever pondered if they really do? Hmm...not to say that I doubt the intentions of friends and family members who tell me that, but there are times where I wonder what it means to be missed, and I wonder if I've made enough of an impact on the lives of those around me that when I do go away, for a day, a month, a year, forever, if I leave a Jmart-shaped hole in their lives that cannot be filled by any other, a role that is dedicated specifically to me that no other soul can fill. Am I goofy enough, funny enough, smart enough, sweet enough, responsible enough, friendly enough...anything enough to actually be missed?
Ah...I was going to go ahead and delete that whole paragraph because it sounds self-deprecating and frankly, a little bit stupid. But I'm leaving it, because those are thoughts I've thought and feelings I've felt and in a way I think it'd be untrue to me and the purpose of this blog to go back and erase them. To hit delete would be to betray my feelings- sometimes you know it's silly to think or feel a certain way, but your heart and your head don't always match. Isn't it better to honour how you feel and deal with it? So there. It's a silly rant, but it's out in the universe.
To end this thing on a more positive note, I had the best day off ever, and now have new hair. Phase one of transformation= complete.
And it's t-7 days until the move.
Phase two of transformation is rapidly approaching. The nerves are climbing, but so is my level of excitement. Beware, world, Jmart's on her way.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
There were a ridiculous number of thoughts running through my head as I DD'd the gang home after a night of dancing and alcoholic beverages in celebration of a friend's birthday. There were so many thoughts that I was actually trying to decide on one specific one for the topic of this blog post, instead of my typical rambles. I was trying to find the one thought that would be central, that would open today's post with something amazing. What I came up with was this:
Happy First Week Birthday, blog.
Yuuuup, the many thoughts running through my head, and I come up with that.
Though I suppose it's relevant, especially in light of the fact that time passes so quickly...I can hardly believe it's been a week since I laid on my bed in this exact same way and contemplated for hours where or not I should actually put fingers ot keys and immortalize my thoughts in pixels, on a screen. A lot has happened this week--I've done a lot of growing, even in just those seven days.
And I've spent this last week wondering how the hell it is that we all got so damaged. From the conversations I've had about myself with my family and friends, and conversations I've had with family and friends about their lives and current states of affairs, all I have been able to conclude is that we're all pretty effed up. What, why, how is it that we got this way? How, what, why is it seemingly so hard for everyone to just be happy these days? Where are we going, what are we doing, and what is it we did that lead us to this melancholic, depressed, anxious, out-of-sorts, coping-with-meds-or-self-medicating, effed up state of being?
Let me be clear: we've all got problems. Everyone does. And I know in that sense, that makes us all screwed up. But how did we all get so screwed up lately? How come we all seem to be having such a hard time getting past the things we used to be able to work through? Why is it that so many people I've talked to lately want to just pack up, move on out and start over? Why are so many jealous that I'm doing just that?
...Just a point to ponder. Personally, I blame the universe that governs 2010, because it has overwhelmingly been a shitty year for me, thus far: deaths, strokes, pelvis-crushing-tractor accidents, hernias, cancer, car accidents...These are just some of the things that have happened to me or someone close to me this year. Thinking back, I can see us all, full of promises and hopes for a beautiful year in 2010--cheap champagne, maybe?
I spent about 5 minutes standing in the cold tonight, beside the closed door of my car, under my dim porch light, staring at the sky. The night sky was incredible tonight- no clouds, a beautiful silver sliver of a moon (yeah, you re-read those two words together), and brilliant sparkling stars just everywhere. My breath was coming out in little puffs, and everything was gorgeous- the perfect kind of early autumn night that I just adore. And I noticed- the stars all have their place. They shine as brightly as they can, they're unique and yet the sky wouldn't be what it is without each of them in their place, serving their purpose.
Maybe we all need to move beyond our doubts, fears, depressions, anxieties...past our blaming of the universe and the year for all that's gone, stop questioning if we're making the right decisions or blaming others if we're not and instead, instead we ought to be more like those stars. Maybe we need to realize that stars are not all whole, or uniform, or perfect, but that they are all beautiful because of their flaws, varied sizes, their differences. Maybe what we really need to do is go ahead and find our rightful place in this inky black sky of a world, and then shine so brightly that someone, somewhere else on the planet is watching our glow and smiling.
Just like I was tonight.
Happy First Week Birthday, blog.
Yuuuup, the many thoughts running through my head, and I come up with that.
Though I suppose it's relevant, especially in light of the fact that time passes so quickly...I can hardly believe it's been a week since I laid on my bed in this exact same way and contemplated for hours where or not I should actually put fingers ot keys and immortalize my thoughts in pixels, on a screen. A lot has happened this week--I've done a lot of growing, even in just those seven days.
And I've spent this last week wondering how the hell it is that we all got so damaged. From the conversations I've had about myself with my family and friends, and conversations I've had with family and friends about their lives and current states of affairs, all I have been able to conclude is that we're all pretty effed up. What, why, how is it that we got this way? How, what, why is it seemingly so hard for everyone to just be happy these days? Where are we going, what are we doing, and what is it we did that lead us to this melancholic, depressed, anxious, out-of-sorts, coping-with-meds-or-self-medicating, effed up state of being?
Let me be clear: we've all got problems. Everyone does. And I know in that sense, that makes us all screwed up. But how did we all get so screwed up lately? How come we all seem to be having such a hard time getting past the things we used to be able to work through? Why is it that so many people I've talked to lately want to just pack up, move on out and start over? Why are so many jealous that I'm doing just that?
...Just a point to ponder. Personally, I blame the universe that governs 2010, because it has overwhelmingly been a shitty year for me, thus far: deaths, strokes, pelvis-crushing-tractor accidents, hernias, cancer, car accidents...These are just some of the things that have happened to me or someone close to me this year. Thinking back, I can see us all, full of promises and hopes for a beautiful year in 2010--cheap champagne, maybe?
I spent about 5 minutes standing in the cold tonight, beside the closed door of my car, under my dim porch light, staring at the sky. The night sky was incredible tonight- no clouds, a beautiful silver sliver of a moon (yeah, you re-read those two words together), and brilliant sparkling stars just everywhere. My breath was coming out in little puffs, and everything was gorgeous- the perfect kind of early autumn night that I just adore. And I noticed- the stars all have their place. They shine as brightly as they can, they're unique and yet the sky wouldn't be what it is without each of them in their place, serving their purpose.
Maybe we all need to move beyond our doubts, fears, depressions, anxieties...past our blaming of the universe and the year for all that's gone, stop questioning if we're making the right decisions or blaming others if we're not and instead, instead we ought to be more like those stars. Maybe we need to realize that stars are not all whole, or uniform, or perfect, but that they are all beautiful because of their flaws, varied sizes, their differences. Maybe what we really need to do is go ahead and find our rightful place in this inky black sky of a world, and then shine so brightly that someone, somewhere else on the planet is watching our glow and smiling.
Just like I was tonight.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
but i'm slipping in between you and your big dreams
Turns out that despite my desperate need and want to get out of this city, I'm still going to have to deal with the things, places and people I'm going to miss. Even though I can't handle living here much longer (and in fact, will not for much longer), having spent so much time here since birth inevitably means there are things I'm going to miss...no surprise, right?
The surprise for me is the fact that, despite my love-hate-mostly-apathetic relationship with my job...I'm going to miss it. Rather, I'm going to miss those long-term guests who check into my hotel and are there for so long that they become friends rather than guests. The kind of folks who don't just pass through the lobby, but stop to practice fake karate in the hall, or sit and have dinner at the breakfast tables so that I have someone to talk to on a boring night; the kind of people who build such a rapport with me that it's funny when they joke around with me, make fun of my insane chipmunk giggle or comment on my singing voice. They're the kind of guests who make their own coffee, who have picked up dead birds at my doorway when I was too squeamish, who think it's hilarious to tell Chuck Norris jokes and see how often they can get me to roll my eyes. These guests are special. These guests hug me goodbye, call me by preferred shortened-version of my first name, stand in the lobby to make me feel safer when there are sketchy other folks checking in and I am the only person employed by the company in the ENTIRE hotel and it's 10 oclock at night and someone else has called to warn me that the police are on their way for these sketchy individuals.
I had a random guest last night tell me that with our banter, our bickers and our laughs, that me and these guests seemed like a little family. I know the pangs that hit when I think about leaving are partly because of them, but I realize that they have to leave this city sometime, too. They don't live here and soon, neither will I.
Of course, they aren't all I'll miss. I'll miss my fam, more than words could say. And I'll miss my friends, who are a second family. I had a catch-up dinner with one of my very best friends tonight and as we talked about our hopes, our dreams, pondered life and the scariness of making new leaps out into the world with our eyes wide shut, holding our breaths and hoping for the best, I realized: despite how scared we are of going out on our own, of doing news things, of having the faintest outline of a plan at best...this is all something we need to do. She needs to apply that overseas teaching job, and I need to move and just fly by the seat of my jeans for a while.
Despite everything we're terrified of, in spite of everything we'll miss...it's our time to figure out us.
And really, for me, that's the biggest dream of all.
The surprise for me is the fact that, despite my love-hate-mostly-apathetic relationship with my job...I'm going to miss it. Rather, I'm going to miss those long-term guests who check into my hotel and are there for so long that they become friends rather than guests. The kind of folks who don't just pass through the lobby, but stop to practice fake karate in the hall, or sit and have dinner at the breakfast tables so that I have someone to talk to on a boring night; the kind of people who build such a rapport with me that it's funny when they joke around with me, make fun of my insane chipmunk giggle or comment on my singing voice. They're the kind of guests who make their own coffee, who have picked up dead birds at my doorway when I was too squeamish, who think it's hilarious to tell Chuck Norris jokes and see how often they can get me to roll my eyes. These guests are special. These guests hug me goodbye, call me by preferred shortened-version of my first name, stand in the lobby to make me feel safer when there are sketchy other folks checking in and I am the only person employed by the company in the ENTIRE hotel and it's 10 oclock at night and someone else has called to warn me that the police are on their way for these sketchy individuals.
I had a random guest last night tell me that with our banter, our bickers and our laughs, that me and these guests seemed like a little family. I know the pangs that hit when I think about leaving are partly because of them, but I realize that they have to leave this city sometime, too. They don't live here and soon, neither will I.
Of course, they aren't all I'll miss. I'll miss my fam, more than words could say. And I'll miss my friends, who are a second family. I had a catch-up dinner with one of my very best friends tonight and as we talked about our hopes, our dreams, pondered life and the scariness of making new leaps out into the world with our eyes wide shut, holding our breaths and hoping for the best, I realized: despite how scared we are of going out on our own, of doing news things, of having the faintest outline of a plan at best...this is all something we need to do. She needs to apply that overseas teaching job, and I need to move and just fly by the seat of my jeans for a while.
Despite everything we're terrified of, in spite of everything we'll miss...it's our time to figure out us.
And really, for me, that's the biggest dream of all.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
she's done what she should, should she do what she dares?
So I missed Glee.
I missed Glee and I am in a desperate need of a haircut.
I missed the Britney episode of Glee, I desperately need a haircut and I spent my night training my replacement.
I missed Glee, my hair's a disaster, I trained replacement-me, and I got my convocation letter in the mail today.
I missed the episode because I was off training replacement me, and it bums me out for more than just the fact that I missed an episode. I missed the Britney episode, one that was sure to hit me with a wave of nostalgia for the catchy bubblegum pop tunes that defined my early adolescence, one that would have launched me back to when life was infinitely simpler, back before my heart had ever really been broken, before I'd ever really lost, back to when my life changing decisions were questions about what to wear and not where to move to.
And I'm bummed because last week, I watched the premiere with some of my favourite people in the world, eating junk and giggling like those pre-pubescent, carefree schoolgirls (save for the one male in the room who was less than impressed to be watching the show, but was there because I needed the support--you know who you are, and thank you). Last week, when I was questioning everything and having hourly meltdowns because the universe decided that I needed to deal with just one last family crisis before the summer season was officially ended, the excitement of Glee and of sharing the episode's shiny newness with people who really mattered to me, is what kept me going.
That makes this week a let down.
Moreso, it was a bummer because I didn't just miss the show, I missed it because I was working. Training the young woman who is evidently going to be my replacement, and I spent the entire time fighting that little voice at the back of my mind that made me wonder if quitting and moving without plan is really that wise of a decision after all--and don't get me wrong. She's absolutely lovely. She's going to do my job wonderfully. Perhaps my biggest issue was recognizing that someone had been hired so quickly, that I was that easily replaced to the company, that maybe my manager's "I'm sorry to see you go" isn't really all that sorry at all, and that maybe I wasn't as important as I'd wanted myself to be. I spent all this time feeling guilty about leaving them in a crappy spot (and yes, I know, I shouldn't have felt guilty in the first place) and here they are instantly replacing me. It comes as...a shock, I guess, and an ego blow...one I probably deserve, and one I won't spend hours crying over, one that won't destroy my self-esteem or anything, but one that stings a little nonetheless.
But to deal with that sting, I spent some time looking in the mirror after work. That's where the haircut comment comes from. I've had almost the same hairstyle for at least three years, and I'm realizing now it's time for a transformation. I need to do something different, something drastic, something that helps heal that small, wounded bit of ego from replacement me, something that makes me smile everytime I look in the mirror, some change that is new and different and completely unexpected to go with this life of mine that is changing to become so new and different and (in some ways) unexpected.
Hair transformation to go with the life transformation.
I'm taking suggestions.
I missed Glee and I am in a desperate need of a haircut.
I missed the Britney episode of Glee, I desperately need a haircut and I spent my night training my replacement.
I missed Glee, my hair's a disaster, I trained replacement-me, and I got my convocation letter in the mail today.
I missed the episode because I was off training replacement me, and it bums me out for more than just the fact that I missed an episode. I missed the Britney episode, one that was sure to hit me with a wave of nostalgia for the catchy bubblegum pop tunes that defined my early adolescence, one that would have launched me back to when life was infinitely simpler, back before my heart had ever really been broken, before I'd ever really lost, back to when my life changing decisions were questions about what to wear and not where to move to.
And I'm bummed because last week, I watched the premiere with some of my favourite people in the world, eating junk and giggling like those pre-pubescent, carefree schoolgirls (save for the one male in the room who was less than impressed to be watching the show, but was there because I needed the support--you know who you are, and thank you). Last week, when I was questioning everything and having hourly meltdowns because the universe decided that I needed to deal with just one last family crisis before the summer season was officially ended, the excitement of Glee and of sharing the episode's shiny newness with people who really mattered to me, is what kept me going.
That makes this week a let down.
Moreso, it was a bummer because I didn't just miss the show, I missed it because I was working. Training the young woman who is evidently going to be my replacement, and I spent the entire time fighting that little voice at the back of my mind that made me wonder if quitting and moving without plan is really that wise of a decision after all--and don't get me wrong. She's absolutely lovely. She's going to do my job wonderfully. Perhaps my biggest issue was recognizing that someone had been hired so quickly, that I was that easily replaced to the company, that maybe my manager's "I'm sorry to see you go" isn't really all that sorry at all, and that maybe I wasn't as important as I'd wanted myself to be. I spent all this time feeling guilty about leaving them in a crappy spot (and yes, I know, I shouldn't have felt guilty in the first place) and here they are instantly replacing me. It comes as...a shock, I guess, and an ego blow...one I probably deserve, and one I won't spend hours crying over, one that won't destroy my self-esteem or anything, but one that stings a little nonetheless.
But to deal with that sting, I spent some time looking in the mirror after work. That's where the haircut comment comes from. I've had almost the same hairstyle for at least three years, and I'm realizing now it's time for a transformation. I need to do something different, something drastic, something that helps heal that small, wounded bit of ego from replacement me, something that makes me smile everytime I look in the mirror, some change that is new and different and completely unexpected to go with this life of mine that is changing to become so new and different and (in some ways) unexpected.
Hair transformation to go with the life transformation.
I'm taking suggestions.
Monday, September 27, 2010
i was thinkin' that if you know a way out, then i'd like to go with you
"You're just livin' life sweetheart". The (admittedly edited) text message that made my evening.
It's a scary thing to realize that you've actually taken a step to changing all those things you hate. It's effing terrifying to realize that you've quit your steady, full-time job in the city you hate and are moving back to the city you love with no job, no home, no plan...Possessing a free spirit is incredible. Fighting the compulsive need to be responsible is important. Managing to shush that inner voice that questions every decision you make? Not so easy.
And it takes a special kind of person to cheer you up with one text, to quiet the fears that have been building since you hastily typed the resignation letter, hit print, handed it to your boss then booked it hell bent for leather back to your car because you aren't a big fan of confrontation and really didn't want to see how that one worked out.
I've spent the past two days trying to assauge my guilt, to reconcile my need to leave and find myself, my place in this world, with that little voice in my head that consistently urges me to do what's 'right' and what's 'responsible' and what I'm 'supposed' to do. Two days, and I was going nowhere fast, til I told him I was doubting myself, til I said I thought I made a mistake and maybe I should stay here after all 'cause my job isn't all bad and I'm sure I can find something to do in this city and...Two days of that run-on worry, and he fixes it with one little text, composed of four simple words and a pet name. One little text that assures me that it's okay to feel uncertain, reinforces that this is my life and my need to leave is both real and justified, makes me see that he believes in me and my abilities to make some sense of this crazy world and find my place, that lets me know it's okay to worry about me for a change without giving thought or having this guilt about what everyone else will inevitably think.
One text.
Shouldn't we all just be livin' life?
It's a scary thing to realize that you've actually taken a step to changing all those things you hate. It's effing terrifying to realize that you've quit your steady, full-time job in the city you hate and are moving back to the city you love with no job, no home, no plan...Possessing a free spirit is incredible. Fighting the compulsive need to be responsible is important. Managing to shush that inner voice that questions every decision you make? Not so easy.
And it takes a special kind of person to cheer you up with one text, to quiet the fears that have been building since you hastily typed the resignation letter, hit print, handed it to your boss then booked it hell bent for leather back to your car because you aren't a big fan of confrontation and really didn't want to see how that one worked out.
I've spent the past two days trying to assauge my guilt, to reconcile my need to leave and find myself, my place in this world, with that little voice in my head that consistently urges me to do what's 'right' and what's 'responsible' and what I'm 'supposed' to do. Two days, and I was going nowhere fast, til I told him I was doubting myself, til I said I thought I made a mistake and maybe I should stay here after all 'cause my job isn't all bad and I'm sure I can find something to do in this city and...Two days of that run-on worry, and he fixes it with one little text, composed of four simple words and a pet name. One little text that assures me that it's okay to feel uncertain, reinforces that this is my life and my need to leave is both real and justified, makes me see that he believes in me and my abilities to make some sense of this crazy world and find my place, that lets me know it's okay to worry about me for a change without giving thought or having this guilt about what everyone else will inevitably think.
One text.
Shouldn't we all just be livin' life?
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Maybe
What the hell am I doing?
An odd way to begin the inaugral post of my blog, this introduction of myself to the blogosphere, I know, and yet for some reason it's the one thing I can't get out of my mind. Maybe it's because I've just spent the last two weeks trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life, or maybe, maybe it's because I'm reconsidering this blog with every key stroke because I know that putting it out into the universe online means that these are words I can never fully get back.
Maybe.
And yet, here I am, 2:04 on a Saturday night (or Sunday morning, be you the early rising type), typing away on this silly little blog that (maybe) few will ever read.
Maybe.
Perhaps I ought to somehow briefly introduce myself, then? I'm a twenty-something woman who just finished undergrad and for the first time in her life finds herself with nothing to do but work, and it's slowly driving her crazy. I am a twenty-something girl who longs to figure out what the hell she's doing in this world and where she's going and why she's here. I am a twenty-something woman who looks out her bedroom window every single, solitary grey day and ponders how she ended up in this podunk, backwards little town that actually makes her sick because she feels like she's never going to fit, ever again.
Then...I am a twenty-something woman who's about to take charge of her life and instead of letting others decide for her, is going to decide for herself. I'm a twenty something woman who is sick of feeling guilty when she has to say no, sick of always doing the responsible thing, sick of having people's expectations looming over her head, sick of worrying about what everyone else thinks and is finally, finally just figuring out how to be.
I am a twenty-something woman who thinks she has it figured out, but knows she doesn't. I'm a twenty-something woman who can't bare to spend another day here, but still gives two weeks notice. I'm a twenty-something woman who loves to live and loves to laugh and yet has slowly found herself doing less and less of both, as of late. I am a twenty-something woman who doesn't know where she's going, but knows where she's been, and is just trying to figure out the path, the way to be happy.
I am a twenty-something woman who is turning to this little blog to help her try and sort things out. Maybe it will help. Maybe it won't.
Maybe.
People think that spring is the season for rebirth, but with the leaves changing colours rapidly, I think autumn says it best. Autumn, with its sights and smells, is the season for transformation. As autumn progresses, so too does my own transformation. At least, that's what I think. But then again...what the hell am I doing?
An odd way to begin the inaugral post of my blog, this introduction of myself to the blogosphere, I know, and yet for some reason it's the one thing I can't get out of my mind. Maybe it's because I've just spent the last two weeks trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life, or maybe, maybe it's because I'm reconsidering this blog with every key stroke because I know that putting it out into the universe online means that these are words I can never fully get back.
Maybe.
And yet, here I am, 2:04 on a Saturday night (or Sunday morning, be you the early rising type), typing away on this silly little blog that (maybe) few will ever read.
Maybe.
Perhaps I ought to somehow briefly introduce myself, then? I'm a twenty-something woman who just finished undergrad and for the first time in her life finds herself with nothing to do but work, and it's slowly driving her crazy. I am a twenty-something girl who longs to figure out what the hell she's doing in this world and where she's going and why she's here. I am a twenty-something woman who looks out her bedroom window every single, solitary grey day and ponders how she ended up in this podunk, backwards little town that actually makes her sick because she feels like she's never going to fit, ever again.
Then...I am a twenty-something woman who's about to take charge of her life and instead of letting others decide for her, is going to decide for herself. I'm a twenty something woman who is sick of feeling guilty when she has to say no, sick of always doing the responsible thing, sick of having people's expectations looming over her head, sick of worrying about what everyone else thinks and is finally, finally just figuring out how to be.
I am a twenty-something woman who thinks she has it figured out, but knows she doesn't. I'm a twenty-something woman who can't bare to spend another day here, but still gives two weeks notice. I'm a twenty-something woman who loves to live and loves to laugh and yet has slowly found herself doing less and less of both, as of late. I am a twenty-something woman who doesn't know where she's going, but knows where she's been, and is just trying to figure out the path, the way to be happy.
I am a twenty-something woman who is turning to this little blog to help her try and sort things out. Maybe it will help. Maybe it won't.
Maybe.
People think that spring is the season for rebirth, but with the leaves changing colours rapidly, I think autumn says it best. Autumn, with its sights and smells, is the season for transformation. As autumn progresses, so too does my own transformation. At least, that's what I think. But then again...what the hell am I doing?
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