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.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
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?
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?
Sunday, July 18, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, July 2, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
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!
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!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Wake Up Laughing
Last night, something happened to me that's never happened before. I was dozing off, and I started to dream. I don't remember what I was dreaming about now, but it was funny because I woke myself up with laughter. I don't know if any of you have ever done that, Readers, but it's awesome. It feels fundamentally, irreproachably great.
My husband asked me what I was laughing about. I'm sure that I told him about my dream, but I can't remember what I said. It was just a quick dream. If I recall, it involved music and video games. But that's about all I know. He said I was strange, which I'm inclined to agree with. But then we had a dialogue that I do remember quite clearly which makes me laugh on the inside.
JJ: I shouldn't really be surprised. You talk in your sleep every now and again.
Me: I do? Really?
JJ: Yeah.
Me: What kind of stuff do I say?
JJ: Mostly, you just say "no."
Me: Haha! Really?!
JJ: Yeah.
Me: Do I say it with an attitude or something?
JJ: Is there ever a time that you don't say no with an attitude, Jessica?
Me: Fair enough, sir.
Even in my sleep, I will get snarky with people and tell them off. Good times!
My husband asked me what I was laughing about. I'm sure that I told him about my dream, but I can't remember what I said. It was just a quick dream. If I recall, it involved music and video games. But that's about all I know. He said I was strange, which I'm inclined to agree with. But then we had a dialogue that I do remember quite clearly which makes me laugh on the inside.
JJ: I shouldn't really be surprised. You talk in your sleep every now and again.
Me: I do? Really?
JJ: Yeah.
Me: What kind of stuff do I say?
JJ: Mostly, you just say "no."
Me: Haha! Really?!
JJ: Yeah.
Me: Do I say it with an attitude or something?
JJ: Is there ever a time that you don't say no with an attitude, Jessica?
Me: Fair enough, sir.
Even in my sleep, I will get snarky with people and tell them off. Good times!
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