Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Wishing I Could Play

I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go. 

Also, we are in the home stretch ya'll. We may finish this before I die.

A Song that I Wish I Could Play

Um. I kinda covered this, but anything. I would really love to be able to play anything on any instrument. I always thought I'd make a kickin' bassist.



Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 -  A Song that Makes You Happy - Birdhouse in Your Soul
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad - Anna Begins
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone - Friend of the Devil
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere - Least Complicated
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event - Mrs. Potter's Lullaby
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To  - It's the End of the World as We Know It
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to - Some Nights
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep  - Ice Cream
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band - Later On 
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate - Life is a Highway
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure  - Loving You is the Dumbest Thing
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love - Mean
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You - She Don't Want Nobody Near 
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate - Drops of Jupiter 
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio - Little Talks
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio - Grey Ghost 
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album - Normal Like You 
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry  - Not Ready to Make Nice
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy - Tonight, Tonight 
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad  - Angel Mine
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding - Friday I'm in Love
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral - Good
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh - Twisting
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play (today)
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

A Song I Can Play. At Least a Little.

I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go. 

Also, we are in the home stretch ya'll. We may finish this before I die.

A Song that I Can Play on an Instrument

I always wanted to play something. I tried, for a really long time, to teach myself piano. Then, in college, I took guitar. Turns out I'm a little tone deaf. Which is cool, ya know. So long as you know I'm going to sing at the top of my lungs anyway. Anyway, of all the things I tried to teach myself and learn, the only thing that really stuck with me is the melody of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." I know, it's so exciting. Hey, at least I'm not singing it.



Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 -  A Song that Makes You Happy - Birdhouse in Your Soul
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad - Anna Begins
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone - Friend of the Devil
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere - Least Complicated
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event - Mrs. Potter's Lullaby
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To  - It's the End of the World as We Know It
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to - Some Nights
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep  - Ice Cream
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band - Later On 
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate - Life is a Highway
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure  - Loving You is the Dumbest Thing
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love - Mean
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You - She Don't Want Nobody Near 
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate - Drops of Jupiter 
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio - Little Talks
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio - Grey Ghost 
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album - Normal Like You 
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry  - Not Ready to Make Nice
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy 
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad  - Angel Mine
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding - Friday I'm in Love
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral - Good
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh - Twisting
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument (today)
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year

Monday, May 20, 2013

Digging Out

My most of my adult life, I've had a messy bedroom. That shouldn't even be a thing. When you start nagging someone else to clean their room, yours should be under control. And, for short periods of time, maybe mine was, here and there.

But, for the most part, it was just full. Full of all the stuff that didn't seem to go anywhere else. In may ways, I've spent the last decade or so sleeping in my storage room. I mean, I need those other rooms. Right?

And then, when I started fighting the depression, it got worse. I go through weeks at a time when I can keep the house clean - sanitary, healthy, safe for humans and felines alike, but not really neat. Times when the toys just get kicked to one side of the room and the clean laundry piles up and up without ever being put away. Then, when it needs to be presentable, I just dump it all in my room. Because I need those other rooms, ya know?

Oh crap, oh crap. Normal people do not admit what I am about to admit over the Internet. Just shut up, hit delete and write something else, Jessi. No, really. What the crap are you doing?

So, this weekend, fueled by a desire to rearrange my bedroom furniture, desperation and rain keeping me from painting my front porch columns, I turned on Netflix, put on my housework pants and got down to business.

And it was appalling. There were clothes I forgot I owned. There were books, oh heavens the books. I own so many books. And the kids - holy pants, if the kids would quit leaving toys, books, games, clothes, shoes and quite curiously, homework; in my room, it might not be so bad. Seriously.

And then the craft supplies. Yarn. Fabric scraps. Broken crap I think I can make other crap out of. Yarn. Mismatched buttons. Paint. Yarn. Needles. Little plastic canvas circles I don't even remember purchasing. Yarn.

I carried out five bags of garbage. Five bags of clothing tags, hangers, shopping bags, homework, broken crap that I probably couldn't have made that thing out of anyway. Five bags. There should be a law.

And the kicker is that I'm not really done. I'm mostly done. I've got everything organized, just not put away. For one thing, I don't have enough laundry baskets to carry all the laundry to the basement. I'm pretty sure that means I have too many clothes. I'll get on that. Just as soon as I figure out what they all are, because I almost never have anything to wear to work.

I've got a bag of maternity clothes ready to take to my cousin. That's right. Maternity clothes. My "baby" is four. Seriously, ya'll. These clothes were in my closet. I've got a box of magazines I haven't read. No more magazines, Jessi.

And the craft supplies. Wow. Do I have craft supplies. And wrapping paper. I should own stock in wrapping paper. I'm hoping to have the furniture rearranged by the end of the week. Maybe that'll help.

But the end all answer here is that my room (and hence the post) is a metaphor for the way I've been living. I have this tendency to work really hard at making things nice for everyone else and dumping all the crap in my own lap. I take on all the responsibility, never say no and volunteer for things I don't really want to do. I try really hard to take care of everyone else and ignore myself.

In real life, I do what I do until my body can't handle it anymore and I get sick. This happens about once every three months. Noticing the pattern hasn't helped me break it.

Well, metaphorical me is sick. Sick of the mess, sick of the lack of organization, the lack of clean laundry and of feeling like I'm sleeping in a storage room. I'm not sure what the answer is, but it stops here. Things without a home may no longer find one in my room.

I'm taking care of me.

I hope.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Five Things on Friday: Zombie Apocalypse Dream Team Edition

I stumbled upon this whole Zombie Apocalypse Dream Team meme (eme, eme, eme) and I knew that for better or worse, I was going to spend hours obsessing over it. Here are some of my thoughts on my

Five Top People for My Zombie Apocalypse Dream Team

First, some thoughts on where others have gone wrong. In choosing a team a fictional characters to work together, you have a collection of things to consider. One - how well they will do the job, is where most people leave off. Two - how well they will survive, is also pretty important. And Three - diversity because a bunch of whiny pretty boys who only want to fight are going to make things like meal time, watch schedules and surviving the winter suck. Diversity, people. Also, they need to not kill each other.

1. Brawler - Jayne Cobb (Firefly) - Okay, so Jayne is a fan of the weapons, but he can hold his own in hand-to-hand, too. He's a survivor and he's spent years on a small crew, meaning he knows how to do (and does not think he is above) all the jobs. Finally, he's not really all that bright. I mean, he's smart enough to get out of a pickle, but not smart enough to constantly argue every little thing with the team leader (me).

2. Weapons Expert - Bobby Singer (Supernatural) - This may not make a lot of sense right off the bat, but hear me out. First of all, Bobby knows how to handle more than just zombies, and let's face it, if the zombies come, who knows what else will be behind. Secondly, he's experienced in just about everything. Need a bunker: Bobby's your man. Need someone to pretend to be CIA: Call Bobby. Need to torture a demon for information: Hey, Bobby. Plus, you get a handy two-fer here. Bobby not only acts as the expert on pretty much anything and everything that wants to eat your face, including weapons, but is also the relationship counselor in the group. And every group needs that sooner or later. (Hey Hershel!)

3. Brains - The DoctorDonna (Doctor Who)Okay, I know this is totally impossible. First of all, she's had her memories wiped, so she's just Donna again. Also, I know that leaving her in that state would burn up her brain and that sucks. But let's face it, what you want on your team in the brains department is the Doctor. But you can't have him. He'll be busy trying to stop the zombie apocalypse. He'll also get bored and run off. You just want to survive. Live to fight another day, as it were. The Doctor is going to flit around and leave you and disappear and you need his knowledge and strategy even when he's gone. Enter DoctorDonna, imbued with all his knowledge and creeping people out with her glowing eyeballs. Also, she's a lovely smartass, who doesn't take whining and (unlike a lot of female SciFi/Fantasy characters) is not constantly trying to get someone in bed.

4. Medic - Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries) - Not a doctor, better. He can heal any would by giving you a sip of his blood. Plus, he's pretty. I'm sorry, but I need some eye candy here.

5. Guy Who Dies First - Kenzi (Lost Girl) - Here's my reasoning. Kenzi is a completely helpless humany type living in a world of super powers and politics. She should have died a million times already. But she hasn't. Why? Because she's scrappy, smart, quick and she can work those super high heels. (Bring flats, Kenzi.) If Kenzi is our girl who dies first, no one will ever die, because by all appearances, she's invincible.

*I thought about casting this entirely from zombie shows/movies/books. I may do a second run actually that follows that. But I think part of the point of zombie media is that you don't get to pick your team. You end up with this unlikely group of survivors and you make it work. Because you don't have the choice..

Who's on your team?

Thursday, May 16, 2013

I'm Only Happy when It Rains and Other 90's Cliches

It's been about 18 months since the Ex and I agreed, over the phone and on the way home from work that the break was better than the marriage and one of us said the "D" word for the first time. In those 18 months, I've taken a good hard look at a lot of things. At what I want vs. what I have. At who I want to be vs. who I am. At how I want to raise my kids vs. how I am raising my kids.

The truth is that this divorce has been good for me in more than a few ways. I've grieved and I've cried and I've gotten mad. But all in all, I can only say positive things about the shape of my life now compared to the shape of my life then.

For the first few months, I battened down the hatches. I didn't change anything, didn't go anywhere, didn't expose myself to anything. Because I was tender and bruised and a little broken. Because I was afraid of what was waiting for me out in the big world.

In the last few months, I've made some big changes, though. Changes that have helped me find my feet and feel a little more like myself. I got my Jeep, which I love and which has yet to mysteriously quit working for months on end. (Suck it Ford.) I took my kids on a real vacation, something that I always figured was completely out of reach. I've created a lot of new traditions and rituals that make my life go smoother.* I painted my living room. I know that doesn't even seem like a big deal, but it makes my house feel a little bit more like my house and a little less like the House that Marriage Failed. I've done social things. With real people. In real life.

One of my challenges has been to figure out who the single me is. I was married a long time, you know. Well, a long time from my seat.

One big part of that challenge is that who I believe that I am is basically who I was when I was 22. I know, intellectually, that this can't be true. I must have changed. I've lived, loved and lost and that usually adds up to older and wiser territory, but all I can see when I look at myself is an awkward kid who likes to drive with the windows down, loves rainy days and is still trying to figure out what to be when (and if) she grows up.

Someone once told me that an alcoholic becomes arrested at the age they started drinking, failing to mature and grow. Sometimes I feel like that's what I've done. Just stopped. Like I put everything on hold and refuted change and growth for a decade.

But then I look at what I've accomplished, what I've done and I know that I have grown up. I just wasn't looking.

Last night, I was watching Doctor Who with the girls (major parenting win), and I said, "When I grow up, I wanna be River Song." Brynna wrinkled her nose in that way she has when she's really thinking hard about something.

"Mommy," she finally said. "You are grown up and you've got a job and you're who you are."

"I don't think we ever quit growing up," I responded. And I was right. We don't. We don't stop changing and growing and working toward something else. Something amazing.

But she was right, too. I am who I am. And who I am is fine. Better than fine. Who I am is pretty darn great.

Sometimes, I still find myself mourning the life I thought I'd have that's gone forever now. But never the life I had. And never myself. I'm not going anywhere. Except for someplace amazing.

*I'm still working on this one. Getting the kids to do chores is still spotty at best and getting home before bedtime is still rarer than I'd like. I'll get there, though. I know I will because I've already come so far.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013

A Funny Story and A Funny Song

I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go. 

Also, we are in the home stretch ya'll. We may finish this before I die.

A Song that Makes Me Laugh

When I was in high school, I needed (for some possibly-academic-team-related reason) to call a boy who was a couple-three years older than I was. I was strangely nervous. Because, you know, older boy. Teehee. When the phone rang, I did exactly what my grandmother had taught me to do, "Hello, this is Jessi, may I please speak to Cthulu*?" His mother told me, sweetly, that I could not because he and his friend Godzilla were at a concert in Cincinnati. "Oh. Do you know who they went to see?" I'm not even sure why I asked. I mean, it didn't make any difference. I guess I thought it was polite conversation, or maybe I thought I could ask him how it was when I did get to talk to him.

"Hm..." she replied, "They may be tall?" After excusing myself and wondering what their height had to do with anything, I finished my homework, did what I did and went to bed. Lying there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep, I suddenly started laughing. They Might be Giants.

*His name wasn't really Cthulu. But it would have been cooler if it was.



Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 -  A Song that Makes You Happy - Birdhouse in Your Soul
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad - Anna Begins
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone - Friend of the Devil
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere - Least Complicated
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event - Mrs. Potter's Lullaby
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To  - It's the End of the World as We Know It
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to - Some Nights
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep  - Ice Cream
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band - Later On 
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate - Life is a Highway
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure  - Loving You is the Dumbest Thing
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love - Mean
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You - She Don't Want Nobody Near 
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate - Drops of Jupiter 
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio - Little Talks
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio - Grey Ghost 
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album - Normal Like You 
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry  - Not Ready to Make Nice
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy 
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad  - Angel Mine
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding - Friday I'm in Love
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral - Good
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh (today)
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year

Monday, May 13, 2013

Anxiety of the Social Sort

I tell people sometimes that I am socially awkward. Other times I say I'm antisocial. Occasionally, I call myself an introvert. Almost always people argue.

"But, you're really not!" they wail.

"But I really am." I answer back.

People don't think I am any of those things because I am a talkative and energetic conversationalist, a constant story teller. I like to make people laugh and I sort of like to be the center of attention. Those things are not at all part of those words up there. The words I use to describe myself.

I had a boss once that described it as "holding court." As in "Jessi's holding court at the other end of the table." And yeah, I guess I do that.

What people don't see, or understand is that it's more complicated than that.

For one thing, talking to people... is exhausting. Especially people I don't know well. Meeting someone for the first time is terrifying and oh so tiring. Sometimes I say really stupid things because  I'm so nervous about talking. Sometimes I forget a person's name moments after learning and rather than just admit I forgot it, I'll carry on a relationship with that person for months or occasionally years without ever knowing their name.

That's not say that I don't enjoy being around people. I do. But I don't want to be around people. I'm not sure how to explain the difference, except that I avoid social situations, but once I force myself into one, I generally enjoy myself. There are exceptions. Sometimes I am so out of place, so floundering that I can't have fun. Sometimes all that fear and awkwardness looms up and keeps me from talking at all. Then, because I have other issues and neuroses as well, I spend the rest of the time believing that they must think I'm psycho-killer-weird because I never talk.

A few years ago, I realized something very important about myself. I cannot spend an entire day at home. I will go stir crazy. I have to break out at some point. Go to the store or pick up dinner. Just drive around. Flop down on the couch at my mom's house. I cannot stand to be completely insulated for that long.

Recently, I began to understand that the flip side is true, too. I don't do well if I don't have some quality time with my own couch. Too many days of coming home late, rushing around to get the kids ready for bed and then collapsing and I really and truly collapse.

And the thing is this: I'm not typically anxious in social situations, but I am extremely anxious about  social situations. To the extent that I very often just talk myself out of having any social situations.

This has led to a life lived without a great deal of outside contact. A life filled with acquaintances whom I like and enjoy, but few real friends. If a friend is someone who will help you bury the body, I need to buy myself a good shovel and some work gloves, because I may just be out there myself.

And let's face it, with my temper there's bound to be a body at some point.

I've been working on this post for a little over a week, and part of the reason why is that I'm just not sure why I feel like this part of my story needs to be told. I hope that someone reading this can relate and that it's a little "Hell yeah," for someone who needs it, but beyond that... I'm just not sure.

I want to be different. I want to connect and relate to people the way that I used to. But I'm just not sure how to start.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Expiration Dates

What follows is microfiction. Any use of the word "I" should be construed as first person narrative and not things that have actually happened to me. I think you can figure it out, but just in case...

When I was in high school, I worked at a gift shop in the most boring tourist trap in America. In front of the register was a small, often-overlooked candy counter. When things were slow (which was most of the time) we'd go through the candy and weed out anything that had expired, and move the stuff that was about to expire to the top.

We were supposed to throw away the expired stuff, but since the shop was staffed mostly by high school kids and stoners, we threw it on the table in the break room. It wasn't as if you could tell the difference. I suppose if you left it long enough, the chocolate would develop that white rash that tastes like chalk. Maybe the hard candies would have started going soft and sticky. But right after the expiration date, there's no real difference. You know and the candy knows, but nothing looks, smells or tastes any different.

Sitting on my bedroom floor, shaking back and forth, on the morning of March 21, ten years after I told the stoner in charge to take that job and shove it, I realized that that's what life is like. Certain aspects of life just expire and you are faced with something brand new. Nothing was wrong with the old me, but here I sat still trembling in the new me. Completely changed.

***

I stood up for the first time since waking up and running to the corner to cower. I looked again at what lay on top of my rumpled white sheets. The old me. Or the shell of the old me. If someone had made a balloon version of me and then deflated it, it wouldn't have appeared much different. My caved in face showed all the freckles I had earned playing in the hay fields as a kid. My arm had the scar from that time I thought I could teach myself to drive at night in the rain. My toes were the same shade of bright purple I'd painted them only yesterday. The only problem was that all of that was laying in a giant pile of rubbery-looking skin right in front of me.

After a few moment's hesitation, I stumbled into my tiny bathroom and leaned against the sink. I wasn't sure who was standing in the mirror, but it clearly wasn't me. Blond, straight and silky hair floated down to pink, tender-looking skin. My black, curly hair and porcelain complexion were still in the next room. Lips too full, nose too long, eyebrows so pale they seemed to not exist. None of it was mine. Except my eyes. Same watery, green eyes shot through with brown.

"This does not happen." I said aloud. "This just does not happen."

I reached up and touched first the mirror, then my own face. My new face. I ran my fingertips over perfect, unblemished skin. And why shouldn't it be perfect, it was brand new. I heard a high, frightened noise and realized, detached, that I had laughed.

I walked back, on unsteady feet, to my bedroom and immediately threw the comforter over the gelatinous skin. I went to my dresser and began dressing. Everything fit, that was a relief. Of course, it seemed it must.. there was nothing there but skin.

What next, I wondered. Normally, now I would go to work. But I knew I couldn't. No one would recognize me. I couldn't go anywhere in fact, because I did not look like I was supposed to. I picked up the phone to call in and then immediately put it back down. What if my voice had changed too?

"La-la-la..." I gave it a shot. I could tell a subtle difference, but maybe that was just nerves. It sounded mostly right. Three phone calls later and I had the day free. But free to what? I needed to get rid of the skin, but what, exactly did one do with a giant pile of skin?

After considering all the options I could think of, I finally gave up and called the one person who had never failed me.

"Mom... Can you come over?" I knew she'd hear the fear in my tightly controlled voice.

"What's up, darling?"

"I'm really freaking out. I woke up this morning and... I don't know how to tell you this, but I woke up and..."

"Oh my goodness! It happened! I thought it wouldn't. Usually it happens before your 18th birthday, so I just thought that it would never happen. I'm so happy for you, dear!" Over my mother's voice was a strong roaring, like waves in a storm. I stood in shock, truly terrified for the first time.

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"I'll be over in fifteen minutes. Do you like it? Your new face? Of course you do, of course you do. I can't wait to see it. I was beginning to worry that you turned out mostly human."

A click and then silence. A silence that would not be filled. I slid down the wall, for the second time in one short morning rocking back and forth and begging the truth to be a lie. It wasn't. I knew it wasn't. And even through the haze or horror and fear, I knew one thing for certain. My old life had truly expired. And a whole new life was going to start. Ready or not.