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.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
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.
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