Explanations and Weekend Excursions

I mentioned on Sunday that I would explain why one of my letter project posts was so late. Saturday, I took a trip over to Indiana to spend the day with my husband. There has been a plethora of family drama surrounding that little trip. Personally, I just wish that I could have spent a little more time with him without the pressure of having to meet a time limit imposed by a family member. It would have been nice to have time to relax, chill, and just sort of hang out for a while--maybe even take a nap (you know how I love to nap!).

It was nice to have some time together for the first time in well over a month. We went out to lunch together, watched Blade Runner, and just kinda chatted. I dozed off a little bit a few times. It would have been nicer if I hadn't been so tired, but we had to leave early so that I could maximize my time. I brought him a teddy bear wearing a t-shirt that read "Someone from Lourdes L<3VES Me!" which I purchased for him when I bought my text books and sprayed with my perfume. In an effort to feel a little more connected, I've sprayed a little penguin that he bought me at Owens with his cologne. I realize that that sounds cheesy and a little bit pathetic, but I think it makes it a little bit easier to adjust to the loneliness.

The bear, being held by JJ. We're calling him Francis because Lourdes is a Franciscan college.

Surprisingly, my mother has been supportive about the whole situation. My little brother has been cool about it. My dad, in a startling twist, has been kind of a douche about it. Mostly, I'm just really ready to be alone. I'm ready for dorm life just so that I don't have to answer questions about it or defend my feelings--not that all of them are asking that of me. It's just that it gets super wearing, even if it's only coming from one person. It just makes me feel so tired, like I could sleep for weeks.

Today, I've been full of tears. It's been awful. I'm sure that it has a great deal to do with being menstrual right now, but I really can't stand myself when I get like this. I cry at everything. I had to struggle not to cry when I wrote my letter blog earlier. I had to struggle not to cry while listening to Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here." Hell, I'll be honest about it, I'm struggling not to cry right now, and I don't really even have anything to cry about! I wish it could all be blamed on female hormones, but I think stress has a little something to do with it as well.

Friday, I move into the dorms. I'm nervous, excited, and a plethora of other emotions about it. My roommate seems like a pretty nice girl. She's pretty quiet, but I'm confident that we'll get along. I met up with her and her fiance last week. They both seem like they'll be fairly easy for me to get along with--and I say both because I get the impression that he'll be spending a lot of time around, which is totally fine with me. There's potential that we might have a third roommate with us, but so far, we haven't had any more notifications about that. I also have to keep studying, finish packing, and do some dorm room shopping all before Friday morning, when I move in. My dad also wants me to work on stupid data entry crap too. Frankly, I'm starting to freak out about how little time I have left to get my shit together.

I'm pretty sure, though, given my teary state--because, let's face it, I'm acting like the poster child for female hysteria--that I need to get some rest. At the very least, I ought to lie down and explore the idea of taking some quiet time for myself. We used to have Quiet Time as children. We couldn't leave our rooms and we had to be quiet, but we didn't have to take naps. We just had to be quiet. I did a lot of reading and thinking back then. I remember wondering what it would be like when I was a grown up, when I got married, wondering what it was like to be in love. Maybe Quiet Time is a good idea for adult. There should be mandatory afternoon Quiet Time in offices, I think. We might be a much more well adjusted society if we could observe that.

In fact, I think I'll go observe a little bit of my own quiet time right now...

Day Twenty-six: Person You Last Pinky Promised

JJ,

Here we are again. Another entry that seems to only apply to you. You are, indeed, the last person that I made a pinky promise to. Ironically enough, I believe it was one that I did promptly break. I believe that the last pinky promise that I made to you was that I would put more effort into our relationship, into paying attention to us and to you. Several days later, you were on your way to another state, and I was still here in Ohio.

Looking back on it, I feel really terrible. I made a promise that I couldn't deliver on. I'm having a lot of trouble with follow through lately, and my courage has really been failing me. I'd like to tell you that that will change, but right now I'm not sure of anything any more. I can tell you that I want it to change. I can tell you that I feel pretty awful about the fact that I've failed you and myself.

I never really thought that I'd be the kind of person that doesn't keep her promises. I never thought I'd lack the follow-through necessary to be a good girlfriend/fiance/wife/person to you. I guess I just never thought I'd lack that kind of follow-through on anything, really. I always thought that I'd be able to keep my promises. It's a whole new revelation to find out that I can't keep those promises, especially when it used to be so important--the notion of keeping promises. I just never thought that's who I'd be.

Hopefully, all my broken promises haven't ruined anything with us. Maybe you can forgive them. I hope you can. I'm resolved to stop making promises that I don't think that I can keep. It probably won't be easy for me because there are so many promises that I'd like to make to you, to lots of people. I wish that there were more things that I could promise. Promise I'll always be there, promise it'll always be easy, promise that things could never be broken, promise that I'll never fall apart. I wish I could promise all of those things.

Maybe some day, I'll be able to promise that I won't break my promises. I'd like to be able to promise that. To everyone.

Love,

Jess

Day Twenty-five: Person Going Through The Worst Of Times

Katlyn,

If there was anyone in my life right now that I'd say is going through the worst of times, I'd say it's you. And I know it might not always seem like it, but I feel for you. I know that you're hurting, and I know that times are tough for you right now. Being a teenage girl, even at the best of times, sucks out loud.

The best advice that I can give you is to keep it together. There's always another day on the horizon. It's never over. No matter what happens, stick it out. Keep on living. Keep on going. Keep on trying. I've been through the hard times too, and maybe it seems stupid, but remembering that I could always wake up to new possibilities tomorrow kind of made it easier for me.

It gets easier with time. You'll find your place in the world soon enough, my dear. My main advice to give you is this: don't look for yourself in other people. Find yourself in you. What do you like? What do you love? What do you do when you're alone? Are you comfortable spending a whole day by yourself, totally alone? If the answer is no, it's time to think about what that might mean for you.

Learn to value yourself. Other people come and go, but you live with yourself forever. Just remember that. If you ever come to a point where you don't like the choices that you're making and you don't like being in the same room with yourself alone for more than an hour, it's time to start making some changes.

You're a good kid. You deserve to be treated well and respected. You deserve to be healthy and happy. You are smart, and I believe that you could do just about anything that you set your mind to. Don't let the world or anyone else ever tell you or let you believe differently. Be uncompromising about being yourself. Don't change for anyone unless you're changing for yourself. Love who you are. Respect yourself.

I remember being a teenager. I remember that it was complicated and scary and it didn't make any sense. I remember feeling like there wasn't any one in the world that gave a shit about me. There was one adult that made a huge difference in my life because she cared about me: your aunt Angie. I hope that you have someone like that in your life right now. I also hope that you know that you can call me any time you need someone to talk to or you need to vent. I'll listen without judging you.

At some point, you'll look back on your teenage years and think the same thing that we all do about our teenage years: there were good times, there were bad times, but you got through them all. It seems far away, but that day will come. Cry when you need to cry, laugh when you need to laugh, and always remember to put yourself first.

I love you, kiddo.

Jess

Day Twenty-four: Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory

This should have been posted yesterday, so I apologize for the lateness. I'll explain later.

This entry is hard to make into a letter because several people were involved in this, my favorite memory. So I'll just talk about my memory instead. A lot of people don't really remember their childhood. In that way, I suppose that I'm lucky because I do remember mine--for the most part.

This particular memory is from when I was quite little--perhaps four. We lived in the house on Sampson Street in South Bend at the time, so I know it was before I turned five (we moved to Granger when I was five so that we could be in PHM schools). That little house had a really large backyard which sloped at the back, so it was ideal for sledding in the winter time.

It was a hot summer day. My paternal grandparents were over, and we were outside having a barbecue. My mother had set up the sprinkler so that we could play in it because of the heat. Playing in the sprinkler was always one of our favorite things to do as kids. Even when we had a pool at our disposal, we still liked playing in the sprinkler. The sprinkler is a vital part of what happened that day. We still refer to it as "the pickle incident."

John and I had spent the afternoon busily running about the sprinkler. Joel had avoided it because the water was fairly cold. He was still in diapers, which didn't really make for a whole lot of watery fun anyways. John had discovered that morning, however, that the spigot controlled the water coming out of the sprinkler. (We weren't fancy folks. Our sprinklers weren't in-ground, but rather, functioned via a hose.) Sometime that afternoon, it occurred to John that he could be the master of his sprinkler domain. He discovered that he had the power to decide who got wet and who didn't. He decided to wait by the spigot, plotting his attack.

As a side note which will not seem so random in a minute, Berlakovich children have always loved pickles. Pickles have been a staple to us since we were old enough to gnaw on them. Pickles are always around in a Berlakovich house. So, needless to say, there were pickles at that afternoon's barbecue. Joel, loving pickles as all Berlakovich children do, got himself a pickle and decided to wander around the yard--by this time, of course, John had turned off the sprinkler and was waiting for his first victim to wander over. I was seated with the family, enjoying a little packet of fruit snacks.

At some point, Joel spotted the sprinkler. He moseyed over to it, curious about how it might have worked. Just as his little face was bent over it, admiring the holes in the shiny metal, pickle in hand, John unleashed the fury of the faucet on the poor kid.

I wish I could describe the arm-flapping maneuver that my little brother pulled when the water hit him in the face. I can still see it in my head, and it makes me laugh to this very day when I think about it. There are no words to adequately describe what he did. He dropped his pickle, flapped his tiny little arms, and ran to my mother, seated at the picnic table on the concrete slab patio. He sobbed in my mother's arms about how he had dropped his pickle, which seemed to be the main source of his emotional distress. My mother offered him another, but it was for naught. He wanted the original, lost pickle, not some poor first-pickle substitute.

My mother resigned herself to going to pick up the other pickle. It could be rinsed off, she figured. It was sitting on the plastic of the sprinkler, so it wasn't like it was on the ground (don't judge my mother!). She knew, however, that my twin had suddenly become her foe. John was still by the spigot, still waiting, only now he had a taste for the sprinkler's power. My mother called out, "John, you better not!" but it was too late. His plan was already hatched.

When she approached, he turned the sprinkler on her too. Then, he ran away from the spigot. Priceless.

Day Twenty-three: Person You Kissed Last

JJ,

You are the person I kissed last. I don't really have anything new to say here.

Except maybe to say please get a job soon. I know you're trying, but I'm tired of always being broke as a joke. Plz?? Kthnxbai!

Love,

Jessica

Day Twenty-two: Someone You Want To Give A Second Chance

Dear JJ,

I thought about writing this blog post to someone else for a bunch of reasons. For one, I'm trying really hard to kind of make this an experimentation in new things each day, since my old posts seem full of whining stagnation. For two, I'll admit that I'm a teeny smidge worried about what other people will think of me--not enough to stop me, but enough to put some thought into it before I continued. In the end, there was no one else that I could think of that would be more fitting for this topic than you.

I know that we've had our rough patches, but I have never doubted that you're a good person inside. I've always had faith in the fact that you're a good man and that you're capable of being an even better one. Lately, things have been going well for us, and I'm honestly surprised at how sensitive to and receptive of my feelings you have been. I really hope that this is a trend that continues for us. I'm glad that you're committing to trying to meet my needs.

I was really surprised at how much I missed you when I got over my anger. In retrospect, I'm also pretty surprised at how good you were at making me feel completely guilty for all the stuff that went down between us. I think you know me well enough to know that I don't feel guilty about all that much in my life--I'm really not all that invested in the feelings of others, especially not to the point of feeling good or bad about their feelings. That can only mean one thing: that I care very deeply about you. If you ever needed tangible evidence of that, examine how terrible I felt.

I've really enjoyed the support that you've provided me with in the midst of my recent bout of nervousness about my future. It would really be too easy for us to fall apart with our current situation, but it's really important to me that we don't. I don't want to think that the last five years were worth nothing. I want them to matter. I want us to matter, and I want to be able to have confidence in the fact that I matter to you. I need that.

Saturday, we'll be meeting up. I'm looking forward to spending some time with you, and I'm hoping that it all goes well. It's important to me that it does.

Love,

Jess

Day Twenty-one: Someone You Judged By Their First Impression

New Student Worker Girl at Owens,

You know, I'm not generally all that much about first impressions. However, I definitely judged you based on the first impression you gave me. I would love to explain to you why! It's because you were the rudest and most presumptuous person that I have come across in ages!

Generally, when you do not know a person, it is bad form to insert yourself into their conversation. To insert yourself into my conversation is to invite a beating upon yourself. The first day that I came face to face with you, you did this more than once. So, to start, I already didn't like you because you seemed to have no grasp of basic social expectations. Not only that, but you then proceeded to make a loud nuisance of yourself, making declarations about the state of whatever ridiculous work was in front of you.

Here's a tip from me to you regarding social cues: SHUT IT. No one cares about your opinion, especially if they didn't ask you for it. Personally, I'll tell you that, as I don't even know you, I could give less than a shit if you have an opinion about my conversation. Also, no one cares what you're doing. You're paid minimum wage to be seen and not heard. Shut up and finish your work. That's all you need to do for success.

You are not ethnic. You are not interesting. You are not cool. Your opinion does not matter. You do not matter. I do not think that you're intelligent because you can spew rhetoric about your African studies major. You're a white girl. Get over yourself.

Thanks,

Former Queen-Bee

Day Twenty: Person That Broke Your Heart

And it's time for another edition of Jessica's cop-out blogging spectacular! Today's entry is supposed to be about the person that has broken my heart the hardest. However, the two people who would qualify as having broken my heart the most have already been written about in this project. As that is the case, I would also like to point out two important things:

• I don't feel it's appropriate to address the kind of deep issues that I have with these two people in a blog post. Mostly, this is because a.) I don't really feel like I need that drama and b.) I know that I'd be hurt and upset if the tables were turned. Also, in at least one of these cases, I have no desire to repair the rift.
• I am trying to learn to live my life for myself and forgive the past. Obviously, writing to the person that has hurt me the most this early into my journey would probably end up in a counter-productive downward spiral. I have no desire to go there.

 I realize that this is another lame sort of entry--two in a row--but they'll improve. Or they won't. I assure you, you'll be fine.

Day Nineteen: Someone That Pesters Your Mind

While the subject of today's blog is supposed to be a letter to the person that pesters my mind, I don't really think that there's a person like that in my life right now. Don't get me wrong, I think about people and our relationships, but I wouldn't describe the people that I think about regularly as pestering my mind.

I'm also egotistical enough to admit that the majority of my thinking lately revolves around myself. I'm at a strange crossroads that requires a lot of thinking. I've always been a little self-centered--no point in lying about that when it's usually pretty clear--so I'd venture to say that I'm not really pestered mentally by people all that often. Usually, there's trouble when I'm in the throes of an unrequited crush or when I'm angry about something that someone has done (i.e. "I can't believe she would do that to me!!").

Since I'm not in the midst of either of those struggles right now, it would only be fair to say that no one is pestering me. Alas! This makes for a rather poor blog post in the midst of my letters project to admit that I don't think that way. However, this project is supposed to be about changing it up a little and being honest with myself and with others. At the very least, this is honest, so we have that going for us. (By us, I mean me, of course...)

Day Eighteen: Person You Wish You Could Be

Maria,

I suppose of all the "adults" that are in my life, you always seemed the most real to me. Now that you have a child, you seem most like what an adult should really be. I realize that that may not sound entirely flattering at first, but let me explain.

When I was a teenager, I had this awesome idea of what a real adult should be like. It's not something easily definable, mostly because I've only had the privilege of having two real adults in my life ever (both of them women--coincidence? No, I think not.) The difference between real adults and other adults is astounding, as well. You can tell when you're faced with a parent who isn't really a parent. This is the same kind of idea. I can tell when I'm looking at an adult who isn't really an adult.

To me, there are some critical elements to being an adult. Most of them, I am totally and completely missing. However, I can recognize them, which is at least a start. Since I'm best at lists, I'm going to make this a list.

Elements vital to Real Adults as follows:

• Having a real understanding of oneself. This is something that most of the people in my life are missing, but I feel like it's a vital part of being an adult. When you're my age and older, you're supposed to know who you are. You may not know what you want or how to get there, but you should know who you are. I did and I lost a little bit of that, but I'm working on finding it again. I'm on the way.
• Being supportive of the people that you care about. This has been incredibly absent from my life as of late. It's bringing me down in the worst of ways. In fact, of the adults I surround myself with, you're one of the few that is supportive of me in a palpable way. This is immensely important to my adult life.
• Having the ability to participate in intelligent conversation. I don't think I really need to explain this one.
• Maintaining a suspension of judgment for those you love. I realize that this may seem like it would go hand in hand with being supportive, but it doesn't always.
• Actually listening when others talk. I feel like this is a really huge difference between hanging on the edges of conversation and actually having and understanding a conversation. Also, the experts are right, it does make me feel more important.
• Having the ability to respectfully disagree. I think this really separates the adults from the children. I mean, a common trait in most teenagers is that when they disagree with you, they call you stupid or gay or whatever token insult seems to be making rounds at the high schools at that moment in time. It really takes an adult to be able to say, "Well, I get what you're saying, but I don't think I agree. Here's why."

I feel like all of these qualities can be found in you, Maria, which is a major part of why I respect you. I also love your taste in literature. You don't mind admitting that you're not perfect.

 If there was anyone that I wanted to be like, it would definitely be you. I envy your writing talents, your self-awareness, and your standing as a "real adult." I'm sure that your life is not as easy at it seems from my limited, state-away perspective, but I wouldn't mind giving it a try. You're so much more well-adjusted and calm than I am. Maybe it's the calm that I'm really envying right now--go figure!

More than anything, I'd like you to know that you're an important woman in my life. You inspire me to try to do better things with myself. You inspire me to seek mental stability and an inner peace. These are things that very few people have attempted to inspire in me. Knowing that you encourage me is a feeling that I'm quite grateful for. It's also nice to have a positive female role model. So thank you. Just being yourself is quite an inspiration to me.

Love,

Jessica