Day Nine: Someone You Wish You Could Meet

First of all, 100th blog post here on Blogger! This means I get to have a party, right?

Today's letter-writing excursion is a view into a secret desire of mine, the subject of which is someone that I wish I could meet. It will be easier to do this in an essay format, so this will be a bit of a deviation from my letter format. I assure you, you'll get over it.

Anyone that knows me is well aware that my tastes change with the wind, the tides, the seasons, the positions of the moon, etc. I'm an incredibly fickle person. When you think about it, I'm really the ideal capitalist consumer because I get into something, throw all my attention and money at it, and then lose interest when the next sweet new thing comes along. I would like the credit for not being a mindless consumer, though. All of my choices serve a purpose--even if that purpose doesn't dip much deeper that just catering to me. But I digress...

Needless to say, because of my shifting predilections, I tend to cycle through musical groups rather quickly. I stick to some genre specifics, but apart from that, my musical choices are varied and strange. AW, as many of you regular readers (all two of you) are aware, recently introduced me to Marianas Trench. I immediately fell in love with the band. Their lyrics are poignant and perceptive, and my introduction to their songs couldn't have come at a more fitting time in my life. So many of their songs seem to be the perfect voice to what I'm feeling and going through right now. I feel like their lyrics are ripped from the pages of my heart, rather than from the pages of the songwriter's journal.

Getting to the point, the mastermind behind all this great music that I've grown so attached to is Josh Ramsay, the lead singer and rhythm guitarist for the band. Josh Ramsay is the person that I would choose to meet if I could meet anyone. Now, I realize that this may seem like a shady thing to say coming from a self-professed flake--you know, you really shouldn't take away your own credibility before you make a point, as I have done in this post--but I would make that choice again and again even if I stopped listening to Marianas Trench every day. Let me tell you why.

First, I have immense amounts of respect for a man that can admit his past to thousands of fans, rather than sweeping it under the rug and pretending as though it never happened. He was an addict and a bulimic, and is in recovery now. One of his songs in particular, Lover Dearest, is about his personal struggles with heroin and was written as part of a treatment program at a rehab facility. This is something that he regularly shares with his fans before playing that song. This says a lot about the sincerity of the music that he writes. I think that kind of sincerity is glaringly absent from most of the people who are in the music industry these days.

More than that, I have an incredible amount of respect for recovering addicts. It's hard enough to turn your life around, harder still in the face of addiction. The addiction of an immediate member of my family is something that we have struggled with since I was eight years old, and I'm twenty-four now--it will be something that affects my life for the rest of it, and there's no changing that. Lest you think that it's not a miracle for people to get clean and stay that way, I can tell you from personal experience that it's one of the most emotional, difficult, and worthwhile things to choose to do. We are not lucky enough to have an addict who chooses to be in recovery. I can respect any one that chooses life over death because, trust, it is a choice.

In addition, Marianas Trench as a band has a real commitment to their fans. They are quite present on almost all social media outlets. Their street team has the ability to win special prizes from the band just for doing the things that street teams would usually do. Hell, just the other day I got all stoked because Josh replied to one of my tweets on Twitter (seriously, I was way too excited for words; it's a good thing that no one saw me because I would have seemed like a total fangirl). There are hundreds of YouTube clips of the band interacting with the fans or chatting with the crowd from the stage. I can honestly say, having had many a disappointing concert experience, this is a valuable quality. It's no wonder that their fans, "Trench Wenches" as they are called, are so committed to them and so crazy about them.

Another other thing that AW and I both agree is great about Josh Ramsay is his sense of humor. Even though he's been through so much and attained fame, he doesn't seem like he takes himself too seriously. Once again, YouTube is littered with videos of him telling fans amusing stories or of him saying something amusing at the lens of some one's camera phone. One of my personal favorites--which makes me laugh every single time I see it--is a video of him proclaiming that he's a douche bag. (Also, as a side note, if you're looking to harbor illegal immigrants, Josh, I'm open to being harbored. Just sayin'!

Really, the whole band just seems like a group of really great guys. They seem like the kind of dudes that you'd always invite to your parties because they're all genuinely nice people. I mean, someone could show me video evidence that Josh Ramsay slaughters the unborn, and I would be reluctant to believe it because he seems like such a cool guy.

There's really so much more that I could say about why I would want to meet Josh Ramsay. I'd love to ask him a thousand questions about music and about life. I don't think meeting Josh Ramsay would be quite enough for me, though. I'd want to get to know him. I'd want to sit around with him, have a Coke Zero (which is consequently the only diet soda that does not give me headaches), and talk about anything. More than that, I'd want him to want to get to know me--maybe because I feel like, because of his music, he knows me so well already.

I realize that I'm probably no different from hundreds of other fans. It is completely unoriginal to want to meet your favorite musician. I'm okay with that. (See? This is me, learning how to be sincere again. Obviously, it will be a long road back to not caring what people think of me.) It doesn't hurt to agree with the majority every now and again.

Josh, keep doing whatever you're doing. It's working for us. Thanks for all the music and for being who you are. I hope you know that some of your fans really love and appreciate you for it. And please tour in the U.S. soon (specifically Toledo, Ohio).

Day Eight: Favorite Internet Friend

AW,

You are without a doubt my favorite Internet friend--not that I really have all that many. I'm am still stunned that we have been e-friends for around seven years. This means that you've known me longer than a great percentage of some of my current friends.

While we have had our share of drama over the years (this might be the understatement of the year on my part), I count you among the group of people that know me quite well. Certainly, no friendship is perfect, but I like to think that we have each other pretty well figured out. I'm pretty sure that hanging out with you could be pretty cool.

I blame you completely for my current obsession with Marianas Trench. Of course, it does strike me as something really interesting that you're so familiar with my music tastes that you knew that I'd love them. And. oh, how right you were! Clearly, you do listen when I speak! This can only be good. In fact, all the music, movies, and other things that you have suggested to me thus far have been good. You have a clear grasp of the things that I like and don't like because, as I said before, you actually listen to me. It's kind of amazing.

Thanks for influencing my tastes and being a friend! Thanks for listening to me bitch and bitch and bitch about my crappy, stupid life. Thanks for always having positive things to say when I really need to hear them, and attempting to correct my negativity when it becomes all I allow to spew forth from my lips.You're a good guy, and I value you tremendously.

Also, I'd still like to know how many voodoo priestesses you have in your employ. Just sayin'.

Love,

Jessticka (or Jessca--and yes, I left that I out for a reason.)

Internet Recognition

I need to share my triumph with the Internet. Many of you are aware of my new love for the band Marianas Trench. AW got me interested in them when we were talking about music one day, and I have been very into them ever since. I absolutely love their music. I'm really saddened by the fact that their CDs haven't been released in the U.S. yet, but there's a release date set, so I can pre-order them when I get some cash. (My little brother blames this recent love of Marianas Trench on my being a "Canadaphile." I'm pretty sure he made that word up.)

Anyways, I've been a Twitter twat for a little while now. I've noticed that the most frustrating thing about Twitter is that, while you can tweet your little fingers off at celebrities, band members, and persons of note all you'd like, they very seldom reply to your tweets. This doesn't deter me, but it's kind of emblematic of how the world works. There's even a very funny YouTube video about this phenomenon.

Well, the lead singer of Marianas Trench, Josh Ramsay, is on Twitter. In fact, the band members often make a point of keeping up with fans on Twitter, which is really great. It's important to connect with your fan base. And tonight, Josh Ramsay connected with me.

Suck it, Internet!

What does this mean? This means that Josh Ramsay is aware that I have a presence on this Earth. That may seem really stupid, but it pleases me to no end. Also, this is the first time that a celebrity has actually replied to one of my tweets. I'm pretty stoked about that false sense of importance. It doesn't hurt that he Internet-laughed at my comment, either. The Internet is pretty fuckin' cool, when you think about it.

Now if I could just get them to tour in Toledo, Ohio, we'd be all set! Fingers crossed, people!

Day Seven: Ex-boyfriend

Adam,

Where do I begin? I feel like we went through a lot together, but the truth is that I went through a lot and you sort of stood by my side for a little bit of my journey. You were a part of my life at one of my worst points. It makes sense to me now that you would not want to be a part of that train wreck, but at the time it felt like such a betrayal. I understand much more now.

My relationship with you was my first ever taste of something more than just the lonely bitterness. It was my first time feeling like some one might actually want me, might see me for more than just that fat girl. Part of the reason that I was so incredibly crushed when we broke up (when you broke up with me, specifically) was because I felt like everything that you told me--every whispered I love you, every soft little kiss, every joke you laughed at, every late night phone call that lasted for hours--was a lie. I felt like maybe I wasn't lovable. Maybe I was too broken to ever really find love. I felt bruised and battered, lost and sold off to the lowest bidder.

Interestingly, when Dennis broke up with me later, I almost expected it. It never made me happy, but it was sort of softened by the initial loss of you. My heart had already been broken, so what could hurt worse than that? Besides, I'd been telling myself all along after you that I wasn't the kind of girl that someone could love, so I wasn't terribly surprised. I don't know how to word it, but I just felt like I was starting to deserve that rejection, starting to deserve to be unlovable. But I digress...

I still think about all the times that we had together. I think about the night that we watched Girl, Interrupted in your mom's house. I leaned against you, and I could hear your heart beating the whole time. I remember that every time I moved, it beat just a little faster. I remember how shaky and nervous I was our first time, but how you made me feel like you wanted me, which was something that I'd never experienced before and certainly never could have imagined until I had it. I was much more in love with you than I wanted to be, and I was so scared of fucking it up that, in the end, I did fuck it up. (Also, I realize that love can be so relative when you're sixteen years old and you're stupid, but I really felt like I loved you. It doesn't matter if it was "real" love or not because it's about how it felt.)

Yet, despite all the hurt feelings and the drama (remember that mix tape I made you? HA!),  I wouldn't be who I am today if it wasn't for our relationship, going through the things that I went through with you. Even years later, when we made some poor choices in the back of that minivan, I still learned from you. It wasn't always easy, and it certainly wasn't pain-free. Yet, these things, these early experiences, they shape us and build us. My lack of faith in others set the stage  for me to build up some faith in myself. My lack of trust in you and your feelings for me taught me that I had to learn to trust myself. I learned how to value myself despite the opinions of others, and that's not something that I could have learned if we hadn't fallen together so unexpectedly and fallen apart so suddenly.

So, thank you. Thank you for helping to shape me. And thank you for supporting me at a time in my life when I really needed another person. I might've been even more unhappy if I hadn't had you. You also lead to some really great blog posts and some really insightful journal entries, so my writing thanks you too. There was also this really awesome poem that, inadvertently, you helped me write (so did a few other people). So thanks for that too.

My biggest hope is that I affected your life in some sort of positive way. Hopefully, I wasn't just the bitter girl in your Japanese class that you made some stupid mistakes with. I hope that when you think of me, you occasionally do it fondly, as I do with you. We may never be friends, but we'll always be firsts. That means something to me. My hope is that it also means something to you.

Yours,

Jessica

Day Six: Stranger

Stranger,

My first inclination with this letter was to write to you in an elaborately cobbled-together mesh of brilliant song lyrics. However, because I waited to write this until the wee hours of the morn, that will not be happening. It's not that you're not worth it, Stranger. It's simply that it would take a lot of time and effort on my part to put together something cohesive and as brilliant as I want to be. It would take me quite a long time to be happy with my work. Alas, we don't have that kind of time. Also, I lack the necessary energy and creativity.

Instead, I have opted to follow a list format. Here are the things that you'll need to know to get along with me. Also, sprinkled in is some free advice (like that one about spandex--you'll see!) and some random Jessica factoids. Enjoy!

• The quickest way to irk me is to challenge me somehow.
• Once challenged, I will go for broke--usually in the ugliest way possible. NEVER challenge me if you'd like to be friends.
• I have a softer, romantic-comedy type side, but you will never see it if you make fun of my love of feminine things.
• I like pink.
• Generally, it is poor form to tell someone that they look terrible. This is especially true if it occurs in the late hours of the night or the early hours of the morning.
• Never say, "God, what's wrong with you?!" It is impolite to insinuate that I have a problem. In fact, if I didn't have a problem before you asked me that question, I have one now.
• Spandex is never acceptable.
• Children are usually unwelcome in my presence. This may be amended for the well-behaved.
• Obsession du jour: Marianas Trench. Don't insult the Trench.
• I have a weakness for Degrassi, a Canadian teen drama. Don't you judge me, dammit.
• I can forgive just about any negative qualities in a person who has the ability to make me laugh. Humor is very important.
• Smelling good is vital. Deodorant is not expensive, people.
• Poor grammar or vocabulary KILLS me. Please be intelligent or fake it until you make it.
• I still believe in love. Real, true, sweep-you-off-your-feet love.
• Always be honest with me. You may be an excellent liar, but I will always find out the truth. Always. This never fails. And, once I find out that you have lied, it will go badly for you. Very badly.
• I can be a tad on the melodramatic sometimes. Usually, if you just let me bitch for about fifteen minutes, this will go away. Just be patient.
• I don't trust people. Not at all. I will always assume that you are lying until you can prove that you are not. This is especially true of people that claim to like or love me.
• I love to read.
• One of my biggest pet peeves is when people attempt to speak to me while I'm on the phone. If you see a phone stuck to my face and you're not on fire, wait until I'm done with my conversation.
• I love getting flowers, but I never feel like I deserve them.
• I love hand-written letters. I feel like there's an art to sitting down and actually writing a letter which has fallen by the wayside.
• The Harlequin romance-esque idea of the strong, manly, cowboy type is appealing to me--in the basest of ways.
• I love a man that can sing.
• I like dancing, but never enough to do it in public.
• I know that I can't really sing that well, but I love it when people make me feel like I'm good at it.
• If you have an urge to insinuate that women are of lesser value than men, keep yourself from doing it in my presence.

I'm pretty sure that these are the most vital advice, facts, and tips for getting along with me that I can offer right now. I mean, half the fun of getting to know someone is discovering what makes them tick, right? If that's your goal with me, good luck! It'll take time, and it will be hard-won. In the end, however, I like to think that it will be worth it.

Day Five: Dreams

Dreams,

It seems a strange thing to personify and then write a letter to a concept as obscure as my dreams. Is this to mean my actual dreams, which would occur during the normal sleep schedule? Is this to mean dreams in the abstract, as in a manifestation of my personal desires for myself and/or my future? I guess I could address both...in some sort of way or another.

As to what I want for my life, I would simply say that I want to be happy. I realize that this may be a bit of a cop-out of an answer--I mean, who doesn't want to be happy? You never hear people note how much they'd just love to be utterly miserable. I just don't really know what happy means for myself. I'd like a job that can make me feel like I'm a part of something. I want financial security. I want meaningful friendships. I want a meaningful relationship with someone. Apart from that, I'm not sure. It doesn't really matter where I'm living or what I'm doing. I mean, I could even see myself being alone and being happy. Happiness is really all that I want.

As to my actual dreams, often they revolve around the stresses of my life. I dream about being rejected by the people that I really want. I dream about being pursued by people that I'm uninterested in. I dream about unplanned pregnancies. I dream about not having enough money. I dream about sex. I dream about trusting all the wrong people.

In fact, if I had one request, it would be that all my dreams be sex dreams. I'm a much much bigger fan of THOSE dreams than I am of the stress/reality dreams. In fact, I usually wake up pretty pleased with those results--just sayin'!

I'm not really sure what else to write to my dreams here. Stop disturbing my awesome blank sleeping states? I enjoy it when you're sexy? Keep on keepin' on? Don't stop believin'?

Day Four: Siblings

John and Joel,

I don't suppose I'm used to writing to either of you. It hardly seems like something that any of us would do on the regular. And, while I would say that we're close, I wouldn't say that we are conventional. We are not a part of a "normal" family--whatever it is that those happen to consist of.

I'm glad that you guys are around. I'm glad that you always know how to make me laugh until I'm about to pee the floor. John, I was floored when you called me after all the Facebook stuff and hearing about my relationship trouble. You'll probably never know how much that little thing meant to me. It made me feel like you're there for me when the shit really goes down. Joel, sometimes, you say things that make me feel like you really do listen when I talk, like you totally understand where I'm coming from. And I know, logically, that you guys would back me up if there was trouble in my life, but it's the little things like that that make me feel really valued, like being your sister really means something.

I hope you guys feel like I'll be there for you too, like I've got your back. I know we have times when we frustrate and disappoint each other--just like there are in any normal family. I think our good times outweigh our bad. I think that we can stick together and be more like actual siblings. Also, I'd do just about anything within my power to help you guys out. Your well-being and happiness are important to me.

I hope that we don't fall out of touch, as people are often wont to do with time and distance. John, college has been kind to you over the years, but I'd love to hear from you more often. I'm willing to try to bridge that gap as well with phone calls and cards.  Joel, I know that when I lived in the Bend while you were in Ohio we spoke very little. Hopefully, with the Internets being more kind to the both of us, we can remedy that when I'm at Lourdes. I feel like we're all in places where we can be more than just brother and sister, but also friends. I'd like to see us be that way and stay that way.

Love,

Jess

Day Three: Parents

Mom and Dad,

Let's start at the beginning: thanks for giving me life. I am a terrible, beautiful, fascinating amalgamation of your genetic code. It's pretty friggin' sweet. I can see attributes from each of you in my face, in my body. It's really strange and awesome at the same time.

I have always been torn when it comes to parents. You guys can be beautifully supportive and nurturing, but then you can say things that make me want to slap you at the same time. But then again, I feel that way about almost all people. This either means that you're human--as I suspected all along, despite your claims at being more--or that I'm really violent. Maybe both?

I appreciate your willingness to let me make most of my own mistakes. I also appreciate your willingness to let me stagnate this summer, despite the fact that I know you want me to do like 900 other things. I really needed some time to do nothing, to be nothing.

Somehow, I don't think that my life will ever end up being what parents typically want for their children. I'm not a typical person. You guys aren't typical parents. It only makes sense that my life will never be boring or conventional. I will never be a boring or conventional person. Even as a child, I was bossy and uppity, unconventional.

I will probably continue to disappoint you and make you proud. I will probably infuriate you and thrill you. There will be times that you will find me supportive and nurturing, and others that you will want to slap me right across the face. This is life. It's the nature of human relationships. We are family. It's what we do.

I'm glad that I have our family's sense of humor. I'm also glad that I have our intelligence. You guys spent my childhood forcing family dinners at which we actually talked. We debated. I learned how to make an argument by doing it at the dinner table with you guys and the boys. I learned how to be amusing from you guys--so really, my friends should thank you too. 

Love you guys. I'm glad that you love me too.

Love,

Jess

Day Two: Crush/Boyfriend

JJ,

I'm cheating the system here and opting to write to you. I figure the husband card trumps the boyfriend or crush card on just about any given day of the week. Any break-up that requires legal paperwork to be real must mean a serious relationship--just sayin'!

Needless to say, we're a little complicated right now. I'd love to say that I'm sure that things will work out and be perfect, but I just don't know anymore, which is daunting, saddening, and awful. I feel like we've changed a lot since we first started dating. In some ways, we've grown. In others, we've fallen apart.

One thing is clear: we have no idea how to fight like normal people. We throw open doors and put the knobs through walls (Yeah, that's right, I brought up my fight faux pas), storm off, hit walls, refuse to speak or other such nonsense. Normal people don't fight that way. Well-adjusted people don't function that way. Lately, I'd done everything I could to avoid fighting with you because I hate feeling as drained as I do afterward. It's like repeatedly throwing myself against a brick wall; in the end, I haven't accomplished all that much, but I'm super tired and sore. I don't want to fight like that anymore. I can't spend the rest of my life fighting like that.

I guess what I really want is for you to show me that there's something worth fighting for here because I fear we've lost it. I want you to prove to me that you're capable of being the man that you want to be. Show me that I'm worth fighting for, worth striving for. I need to feel like I matter enough to you for you to try and accomplish those three goals--even if you have to do it in another state, even if you have to do it alone. Prove to me that I'm worth it. That's all I want. That's what every woman wants, to know that she's worth having, worth fighting for.

Sometimes, I just feel like I've changed so much. I feel like I'm growing, but in a way that only I can do. I'm genuinely afraid that maybe we don't want the same things from life. You want babies and a family. I'm scared to death at the prospect of children. The idea of being totally responsible for another human being truly, honestly terrifies me. I want to travel. I want to do frivolous stupid things for the sake of them. I want to surround myself with a huge community of friends and have group vacations and brunches. I am not upset that I am not maternal, but I think you would be.

Do you remember when I asked you what first struck you about me? You told me that it was how sure I was of everything, how no one could tell me anything. I remember the girl that wanted to hold your hand that night in the cemetery. I remember how sure she was of herself. I feel like I've lost that girl. I don't remember who she is anymore. I need to find that girl again. I need to be sure of myself again. I can't be sure of anything else until I can be sure of me.

Maybe this is all 2 AM melodrama after a very long day, but please don't be mad about this post. Please think about it. Also, please be aware that I do love you. This separation, this difficult time that we're having doesn't invalidate the good times that we've had. It means that what we need is more of those times and less of what we've been having lately.

Love,

Jess

P.S.--Sorry this is so heavy. I intended to write something lighter, less personal, but this seems more honest. I blame the lateness of the hour and The Swell Season.

Day One: Best Friend

Nick,

Clearly, you're totes my BFF. I definitely needed to start this letter by saying that. :)

Let me just say that I don't get along with most people. I'm what you might call an acquired taste. I seem fun at first, but I quickly lose my lustre when people begin to realize that, yes, I am in fact like this all the time. My mean comments never cease, I never learned how to be gracious, and I have never been any kind of conventional. I'm fun for the first twenty minutes, but after that, I begin to grate on the nerves.

Knowing all of this about myself, I am continually shocked that you still call me a friend. Seriously.

Yet, despite my shock at your continued amusement, I have never doubted for a second the sincerity of your friendship. You are always honest with me. You have never minced words or just told me what I wanted to hear. This is rare, and it is something that I value greatly. You have supported me through some tough times, and I have no doubt that your support will continue. This is not something that I can say about all of my friends.

You're awesome. I love every conversation that we have because it's always good--even through the bad times. We always find something to laugh about. I love that we share a similar sense of humor--catty and evil though it may be (which suits me just fine). You rock.

Even in the face of quoting Golden Girls, I'll say it: thank you for being a friend. I may have a lot of people who find me amusing, a lot of people that I can chit-chat with, but I have very few real friends. I'm glad you're one of them.

Theft of Another's...Theft?

I seem to be at a stand-still when it comes to my blogging as of late. So, in order to change it up a smidge, I'm stealing something from Jessica's blog. (Also, yes, I realize that I linked you to her other blog and not the personal one, but you'll make it. I promise you will.) What makes me feel better about my intellectual douche-baggery? This was not only my theft.

Jessica borrowed it from someone else. And, since I seem to be stealing from Jessica a lot lately, I don't have to feel quite so bad about stealing what she stole. It's win-win because it changes up my boring routine of bitching about my lack of sleep and changes and blah blah blah. This can only mean good things for you, Readers, so don't get too judgmental.

Anyways, the point is that you write letters each day for 30 days to others which reveal things about yourself. I love this idea. I have thought for a long time that people should write more letters. There's something about the written word that seems to be falling by the wayside. At any rate, this is how it goes:

Day 1 — Your Best Friend
Day 2 — Your Crush/ Boyfriend
Day 3 — Your parents
Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)
Day 5 — Your dreams
Day 6 — A stranger
Day 7 — Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush
Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend
Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet
Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to
Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to
Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain
Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you
Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from
Day 15 — The person you miss the most
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country
Day 17 — Someone from your childhood
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad
Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest
Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression
Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to
Day 23 — The last person you kissed
Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory
Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day
Day 28 — Someone that changed your life
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

Day One, coming soon!!

Here We Are Again

Well, here we are again. The wee hours of the morn. I had every intention of sleeping. Really, really I did! But then...well, things got crazy! I reconnected with a friend of mine from high school, and he and I ended up texting about his recently lost relationship. I also got in touch with a friend from college who I missed terribly.

Liv, my friend from Owens, was one of my favorite people at work. She always has a smile for everyone, always a positive attitude. She and I used to have great talks. She eventually stopped working in the writing center because she didn't get enough hours, but I missed her terribly. Fortunately for Facebook, we are able to remain connected. Tonight, I noticed that her status mentioned being in the hospital and losing her boyfriend. Naturally, I worried. I managed to catch her on Facebook chat, and we talked for a while.

As it turns out, Liv was involved in a very serious car accident on Friday night. Her boyfriend, who was also in the car, didn't make it. Liv is alright. She was just released from ICU, but she'll be facing several weeks in an assisted care facility and even more weeks of rehab. I truly feel for her. I can't imagine what she's going through right now. I told her that if she needed anything, anything at all, that she should let me know, and for the first time in a while, I actually meant it (apart from my offers to talk--I'm always open to talking). I hope that she does get in touch with me, and I hope that she knows that I'm here for her.

Needless to say, I'm not the only one having a rough go of things lately. I guess it helps to know that my life isn't the worst of them right now. It helps to know that I'm not the only one going through some crazy things these days. For the first time in a couple of weeks, I'm feeling more at ease with my circumstances, more calm about all that's going on. It hasn't gotten easier, and it will probably never be simple, but I'm feeling much more optimistic about it all.

In other news, that happened. It makes me giggle.

Connected Disconnect

Last night, for the first time in around three weeks, I got some actual sleep. I was in bed by 12:45. I slept until 1:30 PM today. I got some actual rest. So why am I still feeling like I'd love to slaughter an entire village of innocent people, Viking-style?

I have a theory. Change and stagnation are both things that make me a very unpleasant lady. Changes are happening with my marriage and my family. Changes are happening with my scholastic life. Changes are even happening in my friendships. Stagnation has been brought on by the summer. I'm not working or going to classes this summer. So, basically, I'm doing nothing. I can't stand doing nothing--which is totally new for me because there have been times in my life that I would have paid money to have the ability to do nothing for even just a day.

Change and stagnation together are a deadly combination for me. They make me want for even more drastic changes. They make me yearn to change things in ways that I can control. It has always been at times of change that I have made piercing, tattoo, or hair style decisions. I have gone shopping and bought new things that I might never even wear or accessories that are outlandish and really only cool for about the first twenty minutes. I make terrible choices with regard to sex and relationships--specifically, I set my sights awfully low and always end up with a dirtball.

I'm struggling with being taken over by my desire to change things too drastically. I'm a little bit floored by the things that I'm discovering about myself lately. For example, I'm starting to get used to sleeping alone in a king-size bed. More startling is the fact that I'm starting to like it. Maybe I was more right about this separation that I wanted to be. Maybe I really do need some independence and some space. I feel sort of traitorous to admit that. Marriages are supposed to work and mine isn't right now. It feels terrible to say that I need space.

I think I just need a little bit of space from the world. I need to focus on reading, studying some anatomy concepts, cleaning up around my atrocious room. I need to take a few days off the Internet for a while. I need to chill, to think. I think that maybe, this week, I'm going to try to limit my Internet contact hours. It tends to make me lack focus when I get online. I spend too much time chatting or tweeting obsessively. I don't think about the things that I really need to be thinking about.

Perhaps it's time to take a couple of days for perspective. Thoughts?

Destructive Fruition

As a result of my recent urges to be pierced and tatted once again, I suppose I may have made a less than stellar choice. First, some back-story.

When I was a teenager, I wanted a tongue piercing so badly. It was the first piercing that I really, truly wanted. I fixated on the idea since I was 16, but in Indiana, you either need  parental permission or to be 18 years of age to get a piercing. Needless to say, the last thing that my parents wanted their daughter to have was a metal stud through her tongue. In fact, I was lectured about infections. Tongue piercings were representative of the freedom and adult power that I wanted. I was tired of everyone else controlling my life.

When I turned 18, I made it pretty clear at, at some point, I was going to get my tongue pierced--parental approval or not. My parents wisely noted that, while they couldn't stop me, they thought I should research the piercing process and the proper care. Seeing the reason behind this request, I obliged them. Then, one sunny Saturday afternoon, Mandy and I went to the local piercing place--the name escapes me right now--and I got my coveted tongue piercing. I talked funny for about two weeks. Every time I ate, I had to get used to it again.

Yet, it was so cool. I was one of the few people at school that had that piercing. I was kind of a bad ass. It was sexy. It had implications, but not terrible ones. I've never been cute or tiny or worthy of attention, but having a piercing that no one else has buys you a little bit of attention. It's kind of nice.

Long story short on the tongue piercing, I ended up taking it out a few years later. It started to rub on my gums, which was painful. I decided it would be best to nix it and move on with my life. After all, I totally wanted to be taken seriously, right!?

Well, as my last blog whined, I have been in dire need of a change lately. I've been dying for a little bit of difference in my life. So, when the idea of getting some piercings redone--specifically my nipples--occurred to me, I jumped at the idea. But nipples you can't pierce yourself, even if the ghosts of the former piercings remain. (I say this from experience. I did re-pierce my nipple left once...let's just say it only lasted about three hours before I gave up on it.) Nipples will be something that I have pierced professionally.

However, I have pierced my own tongue again before. About a year after I took it out the first time, I decided I wanted it back. So I shoved the stud through again. Last night, it occurred to me that, if I could re-pierce my nipples, I'd be able to re-pierce my tongue. And, since I'd done my tongue before myself, I could do it at home. It would be a way to bring the changes on without paying. I mean, hell, I already had all the piercing stuff, right?

So, last night, I re-pierced my tongue again. It makes me wonder why I ever took it out in the first place. Now, don't get me wrong here, it hurt like a bitch to shove that stud through again. There's a little bit of swelling, and my tongue is definitely sore again today. Yet, I feel like it was totally worth it. And there's a little bit of personal satisfaction from the fact that I did that for myself. It's a lovely change. Maybe it's just because of the connection that I've always seen between the piercing and freedom. Maybe it's because I'm secretly a masochist. Maybe it's just because I'm so desperate for change that I'm willing to take matters into my own hands to find it.

I feel like this is the start of a series of drastic changes. I'm ridiculously satisfied with it. I just need to get used to having metal in my mouth again.

Destructive Urges

My life is changing rapidly before me. I'm starting to feel like all of my nights alone in this giant bed are spent in the strangest of ways. One night, I'm talking to AW. Later, I'm talking to JJ. Maybe I'm surfing LiveJournal or Blogger. Maybe I'm checking out stupid YouTube videos until 5 AM. I spend so many nights so strangely.

I feel so much like I need to change things even further. While the rest of my world spirals further beyond my control, I yearn for the things that I could do to make my life make sense again. I feel like doing something reckless. I feel like doing something strange.

I want to get my nipples pierced again. I've been thinking a lot about it. Nipple piercings were secretly sexy. They were something that I did for myself so that I could feel in control and bad and sexy all at the same time. I think I need to reconnect with THAT Jessica. Through my life, the only thing that I regret is not getting a little bit wilder, being a little bit crazier. I should have been more brazen in high school. I shouldn't have settled down so quickly. I should be in the middle of a series of terrible decisions that I lovingly refer to as my early twenties.

I feel the compulsion to dye my hair again too. I want Nick to cut it again in the style that I had before. Maybe we can dye it black with some bright red streaks. I need something dark, something daring. I want something bold. I want to be bold.

There's only one thing that I'm sure of in my life right now: I need some change. I'm starting to feel manic about it, possessed with it. I need my life to be different. I need to be in control again.

On Nights Like This...

My sleep schedule has been obliterated. I've pretty much abandoned any idea of sleeping like a normal person. I've also basically abandoned the idea of sleeping for more than just a few hours at a time. I recall when my days and nights were like this before. It's been at times in my life when I have been historically depressed.

For example, my teenage years were fraught with sleeplessness. I spent so many nights in front of my computer, blogging and chatting, listening to music and trying to fight my troubles away by attempting to write stories and poetry. I read. I half-assed my homework. I brooded over boys and my feelings, complicated as they were at the time. I did things at night because my mind just wouldn't shut off.

Later, in our apartment years, I did the same thing when I was taking time off of work. I joined a chat community. I watched anime. I wrote letters to inmates that I used to write to (Yeah, I'm weird. I know. But I always found those letters to be very rewarding). I baked. I cleaned. I went for walks. I did a million things because I got tired of trying to bullshit my way into sleep that wasn't coming.

My whole life's pattern has been that, in times of stress or depression, I don't sleep. Not nearly enough. I stay up. I fight the night. I fight my dreams and my worries. I fight my thoughts. I push myself to do something creative. I push myself to do something useful because of the burgeoning uselessness that threatens to envelop me. I have always been a sleep-fighter. Even as an ill little infant, my parents have told me that I never wanted to sleep for more than 20-40 minutes at a time. I spent most of my infancy crying and wakeful. Why should I be any different in my twenties?

So here we are again, dear old friend Insomnia.

I sit up at night. I chat with JJ or AW. I watch girl movies. I work. I search the Internet for random facts. I scour YouTube for music videos and amusing little skits. I keep fighting sleep. I keep fighting my dreams, my thoughts.

This will probably be the most reassuring constant in my life. This has been one of the only patterns that has ever held true in my life. It's strange, but it's the only thing that makes me feel normal. It's this time in the late night or early morning that really makes me feel like a part of myself. It's just me. There's never anyone else. Maybe it seems strange, but it makes me feel a little more in-tune with myself, with these feelings. It helps me understand them. Maybe, in that way, this insomnia, this vigil is a good thing. I like to think so.

I'm Half-Asleep and I Am Wide Awake

Alright, in the interest of being taken seriously and being a mature and responsible blogger, I probably ought to stop tossing out updates at 3 AM. However, since I am neither mature nor responsible, 3 AM updates are what you're getting. You'll live. I'm sure of it.

Today was hectic, but pretty cool. I actually accomplished surprisingly little. Dad and I went out to Owens to meet up with Ed and exchange work. (In case I haven't mentioned it, Ed has a little e-bay business. We do some minor data entry and photographic work for him for very little pay. Sadly, it's all we have right now.) Ed was amiable. I also got to see some of the people that I used to work with. I never thought I'd miss Owens so much! I really miss my old job. I wish I could still be working there.

It was nice to see my old friends and colleagues. When we left, my dad sarcastically said, "Jesus, Jessica. I know you had a good academic career here, but I just wish you'd actually made some friends!" I felt pretty good about the fact that I was missed. It's nice to be able to say that you were liked somewhere.

Later, we headed to Lourdes. Apparently, however, we're required to submit W-2's with our tax forms now. Was this listed on the web page or e-mailed about? No. From what the lovely ladies in the financial aid office said, the policy was only just put in place on July 1st. Of course, this means that I have to make another trip out to Lourdes with the other papers now. They wouldn't take any of my forms at all without the W-2's. Quite the waste of a trip. I'm very disappointed.

In other news, I blame AW for my recent interest in an awesome Canadian band called Marianas Trench. I can't get over their music! It's so good! And their lead singer is adorable! U.S. tour soon, boys? Please?

Fantastic Messes

It's been a while since I've updated. I've been busy and haven't felt all that great about it. Mostly, it's necessary to say that JJ and I have been fighting a lot lately. Last week (towards the latter half of the week), we had a discussion that devolved into chaos. I won't go into the details because--not only is the wound a smidgen too fresh for me--JJ asked me not to.

Suffice it to say, he is in Indiana right now. I'm still in Ohio. I don't really know what to think right now. I feel bad because, in many ways, what happened between us was something that I allowed to happen. It's a product of every expectation that I had that I didn't vocalize. It's a product of my own actions, every time I let an issue go because it was just easier to shut up about it than it was to fight about it. In many ways, it's because I took the easy way.

Yet, I feel like there's more that I need. First, I need to get a little bit of personal independence. I'm going to regret it if I never live in the dorms at college. I don't know why, but I feel that it's true. That may be a lame explanation, but it's the best I can do. I also need him to make good on the promises that he's made. I need him to drive. I need him to get a job. I need so much for him to stop acting like I'm just a pain in the ass who's bent on ruining his fun and act like he actually loves me.

Don't get me wrong, I know he loves me. But it's been so strained between us lately. It's like we've forgotten what we're in this for. We've forgotten what we love about each other. I want us to be comfortable again. I think we need to work on our issues apart for a while. He needs to work on his anger and anxiety, and I need to work on the fact that I have a tendency to make everyone's lives revolve around me. These are problems. Maybe if I had a little more of a sense of myself, of who I can be without other people, I'd be more comfortable with being on the back-burner.

I just feel like there's so much that we need to figure out. There's so much that has to be explained or accounted for. We'll always be each other's excuse. I'll never figure myself out because I'll always say that someone else already knows me. He'll never figure himself out because he'll always have me to fall back on as a reason. We need to figure it out. Separate seems like a better idea right now.

All I know is that I'm confused. Sleeping in this bed alone is difficult. I've been sleeping sideways. I miss his smell, which is something that I've gotten incredibly used to. I hate having to fall asleep alone, waking up alone. I hate the silence because everything is so much quieter. I hate feeling like I'm ruining his life. That's mostly what hurts: the idea that I'm fucking this all up for more than just myself.

A silent question confronted me in the dark last night, and I couldn't find an answer for it. I'm not sure what terrified me more, the question or the absent answer. What was it? The following: What if I end up alone?

There was a time when I wasn't afraid of that. Now I'm not so sure.

Things Fall Apart

Forgive me, Readers, I'm feeling morose. Bear with me.

In high school, we had to read a book that I absolutely hated. It was called Things Fall Apart, and it was by Chinua Achebe. I read the whole thing, but I truly disliked it. Yet, the more I look back on that book, the more I want to give it a second chance because something about it seems so fundamentally true.

The thing that I really latch on to is the title. Things Fall Apart. It's so simple. It's so rudimentary. It's a natural fact. So final. Something about that has to be respected. It's such a simple idea: things fall apart. I don't think there's a single person that would disagree with that statement. Yet, it's something that we seem to be constantly forgetting.

It's something that bears repeating: things fall apart. Don't get too comfortable. Don't get cozy. Don't fall too hard. Don't go too deep. Things Fall Apart. You'll get hurt. You'll be sorry. And the universe will not be surprised because it knows that things fall apart. The only idiot will be you.

This is what I've been thinking about lately. I just have this sinking feeling that things are about to fall apart for me in an epic sort of way. Like I'm not going to see it coming, but it's going to be totally devastating. I feel like a character in a bad movie. You know the one--the character that predicts ominously that "something's coming," but can't tell you what, when, or how. The most frustrating type of sci-fi character. That's me. I'm like an M. Night Shyamalan plot device. It's atrocious.

Losing My Cool

At the risk of surrendering some of my hard-won cool points, I am forced to admit that I am a fan of the Twilight saga. Not a HUGE fan. Don't get me wrong. I don't have tattoos or t-shirts or jewelry or anything, but I did toy with the idea of buying a Team Jacob water bottle. However, due to my Twilight love--mostly, my love of Taylor Lautner, if we're being really honest--my husband decided that we needed to go see Eclipse tonight.

I was kind of surprised because I'm pretty sure that JJ actually hates Twilight. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if he did, to be honest. I spent an awful lot of time gushing about it when I first read it. I have to imagine that it's easy for men to hate that which they hear too much about from starry-eyed women.

Let me just say that tonight's excursion was an exercise in frustration and self-loathing. I'm pretty sure that JJ and I were the oldest ones at the theater besides the parental units who were morally obligated to accompany their underage children. I'm also pretty sure that we were the only ones that weren't content to giggle like babies during the whole movie. Most of the things that they giggled about weren't even that funny. Mostly, what I really enjoyed about the movie was the shirtless Taylor Lautner. (Let me just say this: I understand that I'm older than him. That's okay with me. He's ADORABLE.)

The longer we sat around the teeny-boppers, the more I thought, "What am I doing here?! Why are we here on the second night of this movie at an evening showing?" Next time, JJ and I will behave like the old people that we are and see this on like a Thursday at 3 PM or something. No more regular show times. It made me feel just a little bit too pathetic.

On the amusing side, I got to witness a young man full-on crying because of the movie. I thought it was the girl next to me at first, but I could see her face. No tears were shining. It was the Hispanic guy next to her. As we left, JJ spotted a beer bottle on the floor where they had been sitting. We might be inclined to chalk his emotions up to the alcohol he may or may not have consumed, but I'm pretty sure that he was just overcome by the sweet, sweet emotion of Robert Pattinson proposing. Or maybe it was Taylor Lautner's abs. I'd cry about those too. They're basically perfection.

On the upside of the night, JJ and I were able to have a discussion about the things that I feel like I'm missing out on. For example, having a dorm room experience at college. I really want that. I know it's something that doesn't please him, and it complicates things. I just don't want to look back on these years and have regrets. I know I'd regret it if I never ever tried to live in a dorm. It just seems so vital to the college experience. I want that!

We also discussed the fact that I've reached a point in my life now where I was a teenager a decade ago. I remember things from a decade ago quite clearly. Hell, I can say that we took vacations to places OVER a decade ago. This, for some ugly reason, makes me feel old. Compound that with my Eclipse experience and you can see that I've had a fairly disheartening age day.

Despite my age-related disillusionment, I've had a pretty good day. I got out of the house, which was quite nice. Very needed!