Too Much Like A Diary

So lately I haven't written anything that I have wanted to. I've either had the thoughts in my head and not taken the time to type them here, or I type up random blog updates since I can't sleep or some other random meaningless blather.

So here I am with an actual post that's more than me just vomiting up words late at night.

Life amazes me. I'm always intrigued by its twists and turns. I'm equally intrigued at how I react to this rollar-coaster.

I am losing my job. My company decided to close down their medical division. I just so happen to work in the medical division. It was a bad bad day when they broke the news. And they had to wait to tell us until they made it public since it's a publicly traded company. That part hurt a little. It felt a little bit like finding out your significant other is cheating on you- but finding it out after all your friends (and complete strangers) already knew. I've spent the last 10 years of my life working for this company. 10 years of co-workers being a family. 10 years of work camping trips. 10 years of building relationships and creating memories. I can't help but think of how much I've changed from the Jessica that started my job as a naive and carefree 21-year-old. All the new loves and heartbreaks I've had, all the learning and personal growth that's taken place. When it all boils down to it, it feels like the end of an era. Which I suppose in a way, it is.

People are being "released" at different times. I'm fortunate to have an estimated "release date" in the second quarter of 2012. Though I really don't see it lasting even that long. It's just going to be so extremely hard to see people leaving before me. People losing their jobs while I sit around with my survivor's guilt. I suppose it can't be "survivor's guilt" if I'm ending up with the same fate, just a few months later, huh?

In all reality, I'm doing okay with the news. Mostly because it seems so far off. But everyday brings me closer to unemployment. Every moment brings me closer to that end of an era. I know that I'll be fine. I'm young and intelligent and willing to do what needs to be done. As much as the job market sucks, I'll find something. It may not be a long-term thing, but I'll find something to pay the bills until the real deal opportunity rears its head. Don't worry about me, ladies and gentlemen. It's just more of an emotional thing than it is a financial thing. And I'm tough.

Anways, a friend of mine shared a quote the other day that I love. It says "Being happy is a form of courage". And I thought long and hard about that. I tried to make sense of it in regards to my own life. I ended up with the conclusion that being happy in life is a risk. Disappointments, broken promises, broken hearts, deaths, chaos, etc- those things can break down happiness and take away your firmly knitted security blanket. So it's tough to allow yourself to be happy with the knowledge that it can be ripped away from you. I totally identify with that statement. And I choose to be courageous.

I took up painting. I'm not good at it, but it does make me feel good. And that's the important thing when it comes to having a new hobby, I think. Any artistic talent I have tends to migrate more towards the written word. Poetry, song lyrics. So my paiting isn't anything to brag about. But brag about it I do, because it's amazing! I highly suggest to anyone that feels like taking up a new hobby or finding an outlet for emotions they haven't been able to express- paint. Or cook. That's equally amazing. Unless you burn everything. In that case, just stick to painting.

Christmas is coming. And coming quickly. I really need to crack down on figuring out what to do this year. Last year was no bueno. With moving back here from Montana and the break-up with Michael, I was stuck in my selfish little pity world and didn't put any thought into anyone else. No way in the world am I not doing anything I can to make those I love feel special this year.

Speaking of this year....... 2010 has been a crazy crazy year. I flew a plane, went skydiving, made amazing new friends, had an emotional breakdown, rediscovered what family is, saw my sister return from her mission, got cable, found out I'm losing my job, spent a LOT of money that I didn't need to, raised my credit 30 points on purpose, and got completely out of debt. That's not even counting the fact that me and the familia are heading to Disneyland for Thanksgiving, and anything else that happens in the next 2 months. I can honestly say that 2010 has taught me a lot about the importance of self, of family, of friendship, of socializing, of inner strength, and of love. I have grown in the past year more than I would have thought I'm capable of. And I'm looking foward to growing even more in the upcoming years. But not physically. I'll never grow taller than 5 feet. I guess I'll settle for emotional and spiritual growth.

The title of this post (Too Much Like A Diary) has a meaning. When I was growing up, I had a diary. Every Sunday when we were younger we would write in it. We'd have "journal time" as a family and we'd all sit around in the front room spending time writing in our journals. In time, I lost the desire to keep up with my journal. I'd only write in it when I felt down or depressed. So in going back and reading those words, it appears that I was a miserable and unhappy girl/teenager. Which is untrue. Yet I'm feeling the same thing when reading recent posts. I've been posting when I'm tired and can't sleep, or when I'm feeling down, or when I just need an outlet but can't form the actual words so end up vomiting random sentences. I hate that. I'm actually quite a content person who has been sleeping amazingly lately. Part of it is that there are still worries about certain people reading my words that I'd prefer not to. But this is the world of the internet, and my blog is a part of that. I can't share with only a select few without making it "private" and locking out other people that may read my words- people that I'm not aware of. So it is what it is. Here is a post that simply and purely because I wanted to post. There you have it.

I'm going to sign off now and start on Season 7 of Monk while cuddling with my pooch.

Much Love!

Time Again

Yah, it's AGAIN been a while since I've blogged. I just feel like I'm a little useless these days. Not that I'm not worth anything, but that I just haven't felt like sharing my thoughts or feelings with the world. I found my little shelter and haven't wanted to get away from that because it makes me feel vulnerable. But maybe I need to embrace the internet vulnerability since I can't seem to allow myself to depend on anyone in the real life world.

I sometimes like to stick my little ear buds in my ears and listen to music. Sometimes I'll dance, sometimes I'll stand in one position and stare at the sky, sometimes I'll close my eyes and cry. Sometimes I feel alone. Sometimes I feel stronger than anyone that's ever existed. Sometimes I feel happy. Sometimes I feel sad. Sometimes I feel unstable. Sometimes I feel anxious. Sometimes I feel pressure. Sometime I feel hope. Sometimes I feel hope dying. Sometimes I feel hopeful. Right now?

I feel helpless.

Helpless to save my brother from himself. Helpless to find another job. Helpless to connect. Helpless to heal. Helpless to soothe. Helpless to verbalize. Helpless to plan. Helpless.

My friend says that I'm not emotionally stunted. I try to agree with her, but can't. Stunted I am.

And some blah and blah and blah.

Much Love!

Times Are Changing

Yep, things change. But I haven't changed much. At least not lately. I'm in a Funk. It is capitalized because it means something. This Funk of mine.

I explained to my Mom D the other day that I'm almost always content, with occasional times of happiness. That's more than one could ask for, I know. In my true mind, I know this.

I am a spoiled little girl when it comes to the world. People die every day from starvation, from wars, from AIDS, from everything that exists in this world that could be horrible. I also know this.

Yet I am still remain in a Funk. I know this.

A good friend of mine got married in July, another good friend is getting married in October. And another good friend of mine just had a baby with his girlfriend. And I sit outside on my step smoking and sometimes drinking and reading and looking over the yard (where I have to clean up my dog's shit in the morning) and realize that I sit on that step night after night after night after night after night.

I suppose that I STILL expect more out of myself than I am capable of. Which makes me feel sometimes empty. Where is my knight in shining armor? Where is my baby daddy? Where is any semblance of normalcy? I just feel lost at times. I know, it's typical. We all feel lost at times.

I just need to remind myself that I AM content most of the time, and happy at times. Rationally and logically I know this. Even my emotional essence knows this most of the time. Yet every now and then, I crave someone laying in bed next to me. Someone making me coffee. Someone to cuddle up with. BUT.............

I am the strong single woman, and need to cling on to that. Damnit, self! Get those romantic notions out of your head! Get those ideals of a happy relationship thrown into the gutter. Get the hopes of a little more in life run over.

I am finally admitting to it. But don't tell anyone. It's our little secret. Just you and me. Here it goes, my pathetic confession:

I'm only comfortable being single because I don't see any other way. I don't like to put my happiness on the fact that I will find my romantic partner. It's not realistic. But I AM a little bit in love with the idea of being in love. I am a little bit in love with the thought of creating life. I am a little bit in love with the Happy Ever After.

BUT.... I need to be realistic. The chances of me ending up alone are greater than the chances of me ending up with someone. Trust me. There is a love in my life right now. But I have absolutely NO trust that that love will remain. I like to pretend. Make-believe is fun! I feel comforted by the temporary love. Because though it won't remain, it's at least real.

Okay. I'm done. NOT my normal higher quality of posts, but I needed to write something and there were some thoughts brewing in my brain. Forgive me for being ME.

Much Love!

I lied. I wasn't done. I just threw on my headphones and danced all around my house. And that Funk went away for now. I forget that music renews my vows to myself.....

Much Love (once again)!

Dreams

I have figured something out about my life, and it may or may not apply to others. As I'm trying to write my blog for me and only me, it's no concern of mine whether it's true to others or not. But since this is MY space and it's the only thing that's completely all about me, I'm throwing it out there.

I have come to realize that I like dreams. And I don't mean the stories that populate the brain while sleeping. I mean dreams as in desires or fantasies.

In the book "The Alchemist", there is a part that I loved so much that I wrote it down in my Thought Book- where I write down the sentences or paragraphs that strike my fancy from books that I've read or things that I've heard or even thoughts that I've had myself that I realized were great. In this book, basically, this boy is on a journey and has a conversation with an older man. The boy asks the man why he's never been to "Mecca" as the man has always dreamed of going there. The man explains to the boy that he does not want to actually go to Mecca because he likes to dream about it. That the reality would ruin the dream. That actually being there and seeing it would make the dream itself worthless.

I love that.

There are those things that I dream about but would never actually want to happen since it would make the fantasy a reality. And I don't care how many people want to believe that realizing your dreams is the only happiness in the world, it's not mine.

I personally believe that we all need something to hope for while fully knowing it will never happen. Or for the more intelligent people, knowing that if it does happen then there's no possible way it could measure up to what we set ourselves up for.

Some of these "dreams" that I have could be complete realities if I chose to make them so. Most of them would involve an extraordinary amount of time to see realized. And the thought of spending so much time just to have a wonderful ideal crushed is absolutely not worth it to me.

Like the older man in "The Alchemist", I like having my dreams remain pure and untainted. Which makes them unattainable. Yet I feel absolutely no sadness in that. I feel that by holding on to those dreams and keeping them pure, I am paying them more respect than I would if I actually obtained them and no longer had that sparking light to fantasize about.

Nobody can take away your dreams but yourself.

Much Love!

Change In Direction

So I'm sitting here in my little work-chair with wheels on it (which is usually at my work computer, not this old POS laptop I'm typing on now that sits on my filing cabinet) and realize that my floor is slanted. Every time I try to type I slide a little further back. Go Go Gadget Arms! Nope. Doesn't work. If only our fantasies were our realities.

Anyway...... I haven't blogged in far too long. I haven't written poetry or song lyrics or anything the slightest bit interesting in far too long. Did I lose my writing ability? Did I forget how to express myself? No.

I have realized that the things that have been on my mind lately are either silly little things that possibly only I find funny, or deep serious thoughts that I haven't felt like explaining/conveying. My mind is still there, my ability is still there, the words are still there. The only thing lacking is my motivation.

So I have decided that I don't care what I write. I used to have some crazy expectation of what my words would mean or how they would come across. I'm done with that. The title of my blog is "Not So Personal Diary". So I am going to start writing again. Writing with no expectation of myself. Nobody has to read it or care. I'm going to just write (type) and write (type). Anything I damn well feel like writing. Anything that pops into my head. Forget structure. Forget anything to do with normality. I'm tired of making sense. I'm done trying to write a blog post that means something.

From now on, my blog is nothing. Meanderings of this and that, opinions on the world, etc.

So........... thought this has already been long enough, I don't care. This is MY space. And I feel like saying something. Hate me for it all you want, I don't care. (Plus, I can just delete your angry and/or ignorant comment... Haha!)

I want to express my complete craving to punch kids in the face. Yes. You read that correctly. I don't have children. I don't like children. The only kids I like are the ones that are actually related to me. Other than that, shut them up. The whining, the crying, the pouting. Seriously? Yes, I know that it happens and you can't control them. I don't have any anger or hatred towards the Momma of said horrible children. I just hate kids. Keep them away from me. Unless they are funny and scream "She farted!!!" and then laugh. At Smith's. That's just comedy. Those are kids I like.

I got Cable TV. But I really wish I could just pick and choose the channels that I actually watch and pay only for them. Here's my reality that I'd actually pay for: The normal local channels (2, 4, 5, 11, 13), the History Channel, the Food Network, trueTV, Oxygen, MTV, Hallmark (yes, I need the occasional cheesy movie), Travel channel, the Soap channel (again, I do have a vagina and need some girl stuff every now and then), MTV2 (I LOVE Jackass.......), the Syfy channel, the Gameshow network, and................ that's it. Though I would need to keep the whole "On Demand" thing because I love me some stupid horror movies. But read on-

I went on the whole Cable TV issue because I am 31 years old and have Cable TV for the first time in my entire life. My childhood was a little interesting, to say the least. I learned how to adapt and change and be "acceptable" from a young age. I could complain and bitch and cry and be angry about it all now that I'm older and see everything in its sad reality. But I won't and I don't. I don't remember a time when I didn't feel loved. And isn't that what it's about? Yes, it was hard. Yes, it was messed up. Yes, it hurt. But.... I am capable of deciding what my past makes me. Do I decide to be pathetic and turn inward like every single person is just out to get me and attack me because I'm not good enough? Or do I decide to be simply ME. I (obviously) choose to be me. I am a little screwed up, a little distrustful, a little cynical, a little possessive, a little jealous, a little angry, a little upset. But I am also a lot centered, a lot loyal, a lot caring, a lot
strong, a lot capable of anything, a lot together, a lot confident.

Balance. I honestly believe that you can't be centered and balanced if you don't have doubt to match your faith. If you don't have a little self-doubt to match your complete self-confidence. If you don't have a bit of worry with your acceptance. Living is not living without risks.

Wow. I haven't written for a long time because I felt like I was writing for an audience that expected these amazing stories or poetic interludes or funny antics.

I'm writing for myself now. And it feels great.

Much Love!

Old Fashioned Romance vs Independence

My amazing sister Rachel and I have a weekly dinner date. It's a fabulous way for us to get together every week and spend time with each other. So two days ago over homemade French Dip sandwiches and steamed vegetables, we were discussing dating. (As is know to happen when you get two single females together who are both playing the dating game.)

Rachel recently had gone on a first date with a guy who insisted on holding the door, opening and shutting her car door, etc. The typical old-fashioned romantic things that were actually once upon a time an expectation in the process of "wooing" a woman. The "gentleman" thing to do. This particular guy would rush to get the door as Rachel is accustomed to getting her own doors. And then he said "Thank you for letting me be a gentleman".

It got me thinking.

As small of a thing as it is, it gives me extreme opposite feelings in both ways. Half of me loves the idea of the gentleman, of being treated like a lady of respect and attention. The other half of me hates it, as I don't need a man doing anything for me.

Did feminism pop the romantic bubble? Does a single woman's need to be strong and be on her own always trump the desire to be romanced and treated as men with good upbringings have been told to treat her?

I like romance. I like flowers, I like sweetness and kindness, I like random expressions of feeling, I'd like chocolates if I liked chocolate. Yet I feel uncomfortable sitting in a car while a man walks around to open the car door for me. It makes me feel as though I'm agreeing to the fact that I'm unable to do anything (like get out of the car) without a man giving me permission, and the man doing the extremely hard physical labor of opening a car door since little old me can't handle it. And then I realize that I'm being silly. However, knowing that I'm being silly doesn't necessarily make the feeling go away, does it?

So how is a poor man supposed to act this day and age? I honestly feel badly for single men. Us woman are complex creatures with thoughts and feelings that are so mixed up that it's no wonder men feel like we are alien beings.

A lot of women my age were taught by our parents and society itself that we are to grow up, marry, buy a house, have babies, raise them right, and then enjoy being a grandmother. When I was younger that's honestly what I expected for myself. Now here I am. Almost 31 years old, one divorce under my belt, my only "child" being of the canine sort, renting an apartment in the Avenues surrounded by college students, and making a living of my own. I like my life. I like where I am in life. I like my stability. I like my ability to care for myself without having to depend on anyone else.

And that's where it gets confusing.

The line between independence and dependency is blurred. Yet we seem to be able to pick and choose which parts of the whole male/female thing are blurry. Flowers = okay. Car door = not okay. What????

That makes no sense. It all boils down to one simple fact: only the woman knows if she needs doors opened for her. And if she doesn't need doors opened for her, she should be comfortable with that and appreciate the gesture when a man makes attempts at being a gentleman. If she's truly comfortable with her independence then it shouldn't matter one way or another. And another thing that us independent women need to realize is that no man really thinks to himself "I need to get the car door for her because she can't do it herself". He is simply trying to be respectful. Simple.

Personally, this independent woman has figured out that I would really love some old-fashioned romance.

Much Love!

Tourist? Never.

A question that people always ask others when you are getting to know them (which I'm noticing more now that I'm back in the dating scene) is: Have you ever travelled outside of the country?

It seems as if that is a defining question. As if a person is defined as a traveler, or not a traveler. Or defined as adventurous or not adventurous. So on and so forth.

I have never travelled. I've only been to a few states in the US itself, and have never needed a passport. I've never even been to Mexico. I suppose I just never had the money to travel, and now that I'm financially stable, none of my friends are. As confident as I am with my ability to be alone, travelling out of the country by my lonesome does not appeal. On top of that, I have no desire to be a tourist. To be more specific in regards to Europe in particular- I have absolutely no desire to visit Paris, or any trendy place to be a tourist.

If I were to ever head outside of the USA, my destinations would be more historical in nature. The attic where Anne Frank and family stayed. The museum demonstrating the obliteration of Pompei. The Auschwitz-Birkenau State Museum. The Pyramids of Egypt. Etc. Sure, it would be grand and fun to see the sights shown in pictures and movies. The landmarks we've all seen so many times through technology. But that does not interest me. Mindless tourism doesn't do it for me.

But... there is one place that I would love to visit just for fun. Italy. Florence, Rome, Venice. If I ever get there, however, it is not going to be a random American just coming to take a look. My goal for Italy is to actually learn Italian. Actually rent an apartment instead of staying in a hotel. Actually spending a decent amount of time there. I'd get "in" with the locals. Find the amazing and interesting locally-knows hot spots and landmarks. More like temporarily live there instead of just in-and-out quick visiting. To me, that would be more meaningful than anything else.

I found some websites online that "teach" free Italian. But free doesn't mean good. I looked into the Rosetta Stone thing, but it's super expensive. So I guess I'll just keep looking it up and cross my fingers that I eventually find something that's good. Being fluent in Italian is a goal. It's good to have a goal.

That's all for now. It's just been on my mind with the whole dating "getting to know you" game.

Much Love!