Secrets

My secrets are just that.
They are not yours to share.
They are a story,
That is not yours to tell.

Where has my heart gone?

It’s pretty late and the agenda for tomorrow keeps running through my brain wake up, class, drive Emily to work, come home and sleep, pick Emily up from work and bring her home, go to class again, go to work. And then Friday’s schedule is already running through my brain. It seems that my life has boiled down to schedules and what I have to do and when. Fitting in time for me to just decompose doesn’t seem to be part of the plan.

I walked around zombie-like Tuesday, my eyes puffy from the night of tears and frustration. I had fallen into a coma of self-doubt and hate. And while things have improved, the general feeling is still the same. Perhaps this is what happens when one nears a new age that comes as a milestone. I will be 25 in just a couple of days and I feel as if I have gone now where with my life. I watch all of my friends married about to have kids or already have kids. Some are buying houses and holding down their forts. I’m roughly at the stage in life where most 19-year-olds are beginning their path to self-discovery. I think I’ve already taken that path of “self-discovery” and I’m still on it, and will continue to be on it until I die probably. Most of my classes are filled with late teens and early twenty-year-olds who live with their parents and have experienced very little of real life. I find myself increasingly bitter towards these college hopefuls.

But really, lets get down to the real problem here. I pretty much dislike everything about me. I don’t find myself to be a good person at all. I seem to fuck up more than I create. I’m inherently selfish. Those around me are more stressed out by my presence than they welcome it and through their words and actions lead me to believe that they would be better if I weren’t around. My insecurities get the best of me and the basic things I lacked growing up are biting me in the ass now. I’m easily offended and quick to anger, and you can blame the Irish blood for the anger but we all know that my strong German genetics give way to one sour kraut at times.

I find myself constantly backed into a corner because I have a mind and am not afraid to express when I think someone is being a jack ass, but often after several rounds of agreement from those around me, few are willing to stand when I stand and thus I remain a loner. And when I do stand up and have something to say I’m only being a jackass for having something to say. I’m inconsiderate and unwilling to back down in the heat of the moment. For lack of better words, I lack certain communication skills in my own need to stand out. My family was one of the shout to be heard types and the meek would be crushed. I learned this very early on and decided to speak out and speak up. But these are not commended attributes, but more so scorned, hated and undesirable, unless of course I was 5’8 with a 32-inch waist. In my overweight appearance what I have is “fat girl” bitterness.

So maybe my family was right when they told me I was a bitch. Or perhaps my grandmother was correct in predicting I would never amount to anything just like my mother. And just maybe this fight to be more is all a waste of time. I’m finding it hard to enjoy life and those around me. Psychologically, I’m a complete mess. But my heart doesn’t believe in the idea of paying someone to listen to me hash out my problems. And even so, any attempt that I have had to talk and get things out, I’ve only had these problems and confessions then thrown back into my face. My trust factor is about as low as my self esteem. I’ve become a shell of a human being, just waiting for the time when my number is called and I can be free of the hate, anger and despair.

But then, maybe I should just stop feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I should just get over it. After all, Is that not what you’re supposed to do? Because I’m sure there are people with more problems than I’m facing that keep walking each day head held high. If I didn’t have a schedule or obligations, I think I might pass my days in sleep.

Or maybe I don't feel I deserve to be happy.

Lessons Learned

So I learned a couple of things about myself last night. First is, that I should never ever drink beer again. Well, at least not as much as I had last night because I cannot drink without becoming a complete douche bag.

Second thing I learned was that I do not enjoy people who do not have enough common sense to say what they mean and mean what they say. And by this I mean, if you’re going to sit there and talk shit at least have the backbone to stand up against what you say instead of cowering and backing down. In fact, if you’re going to make an alliance with someone, stick to that alliance don’t run off and hide. Those are the back stabbing, two faced rejects that cause people lives. Look I’m fine if you rethink your position and feel that maybe you were wrong, but when there’s another person involved you don’t leave them in the dark. It’s rude and its uncalled for.

So I have a new rule to be instated in my list of musts for people that I will surround myself. Must have Integrity and spine. Must be strong-minded and have a grasp of reality. None of this two-faced bull shit. It’s old and childish. We’re adults now, lets act like them (most of the time anyway.)

Its particularly said in this instance because this particular person that I have had these problems with is someone I would stand up for and help if it were possible. Someone I held in high regards, which obviously was my first mistake. So if you’re two faced and lack spine, I do not want to associate myself with you.

Third is, I need to keep my damn mouth shut sometimes, but I knew that already.

No beer for me, stick with the hard liquor because no one likes an ass hole.

A Nervous Rant...

So last week my car broke down on the middle of the Garden State Parkway (Massive road, split into 6 lanes each way, 3 for Express and 3 for local (aka exit lanes)) Well I was on the Express side (no way to exit) and the clutch went out on my car. You can’t just have ANYONE tow you off the Parkway or Turnpike, you have to have specially licensed people do it. Well, that tow cost me 250.00. Of which I didn’t have. Then the clutch cost me another 125.00.

I’m grateful because my friend Jake had an extra car that I am currently using (however uncomfortable it is for me to drive) but the problem is that I have no money. And I work part time and school starts in 2 days. Which is fine, sort of. Normally I would be okay, but the money I had in reserves was used to support me during my surgery in July, and it's all gone. ....


The problem is, I have over 5000.00 in grant/loan money being held by the school and they actually don’t give the money to the student until the end of November, at that point I am 3 weeks from school being over. I thought that the point of getting money to help you with school for expenses and what not was to help. Releasing the funds that late in the semester does not help. What if I was a student that needed to purchase a computer? The semester would basically be over before I was actually able to do so. Or in my case, I need the funding to pay my rent – That includes October and November rent. It’s very frustrating and Im feeling extremely hopeless. I can’t get a personal loan from a bank because I have terrible credit. I’m trying to find another job but that’s not proving to be an easy task. And it’s making me a nervous wreck. ....


I really need to get a second job now, which totally fucks me on my plans to be a full time student with a part time job. It’s going to make me a full time student with basically a full time job…. And I fear that will not end well. But if I don’t get more income, I will not make my Oct. rent… Fuck, why did my car have to break now?....

Bleh.

Why the long face? Did someone just kill your cat?

It’s like someone just told me my cat died. Because that’s how I feel about the new stuff that has been coming out of the Backstreet Boys as of late. I remember when I spent hours trying to defend them against what people would say about them. I’d claim that they were real musicians and that they did write their own stuff because, well they did.

So, like a true fan, I followed them on Twitter. Yes I even had their updates sent to my phone just so I could keep track of what my favorite… yes I’ll say it now. My favorite group was doing. I was truly excited about their last album. It was such an improvement from many of their first that had gotten me hooked at the time when I was budding into puberty searching for acceptance and wanting something to call my own. They came at the right time in my life and I know they will stay forever in my life too. However, lately I’m more ashamed than I ever was as a young teenager making my way through the halls being teased by others for wearing my concert shirt to school. You’d think at my most impressionable time this rejection from my peers would sting, it did – but not nearly as much as it did when I clicked the link from a twitter saying “check out our new single.”

I can only explain my reaction as horrified. A rumble came on, and then I felt like there was a strobe light piercing my eardrums, tainting my mind with all that is being leaked out of the airwaves on radio these days. It took everything in my being to keep the entire song on, hoping that it was just a dream, that what I was just imagining the crap coming from my Macbook speakers. It didn’t stop. And the sting set in.

“Ugh, Am I really going to buy this crap when it comes out?” I thought to myself.

I’m a dedicated fan so when “I’ll never break your heart” came out, even though that song portrayed Backstreet Boy, Brian Littrells long time love interest and wife in the video, I still watched it as I saw my little heart break because it was now abundantly clear that I was not marrying that Backstreet Boy. And clearly it was his loss, because I, well I will be an amazing catch some day and he could only be so lucky.

So even as my little heart broke, I still supported the Backstreet Boys.

When Kevin Richardson signed off from the band and I felt like his sultry voice really was a crucial element to the band, I continued to display my flag, demanding support for the remaining members because while he moved on, the backstreet boys would still prevail. But I still needed Kevin. And I still felt his presents.

And when they weren’t selling albums and what they were producing wasn’t considered pop, but dwindled into “Adult Contemporary” I supported them. Because what they were producing was honest. It was emotional and it filled me with happiness because they were keeping with what I knew the backstreet boys were to me, a vocal group with an amazing amount of talent. Unfortunately, that album didn’t do too well.

So their answer? Well just turn on the radio, it’s about the same as everything else that’s on right now. And yes, they were a pop sensation, and yes there were several other groups that were the same when they were at the “Peak” of their career, but they also retained some individuality. Can anyone really say they know who 5ive was or LFO without really knowing pop music at the time? You say “Backstreet Boys” and while some may groan, people knew who they were. Okay, so maybe you couldn’t tell the difference between them and their “rival” N’Sync, but you can blame their manager for that, as they shared the same reject of a promoter.

And if it weren’t enough that my whole world of obsession and devotion got dragged through a cheese grater, I did what any loyal fan would do. I clicked the link to watch the video of the same song that made my brain melt. Twilight Fans, you sure will love it. Vampires. Original, I’m so glad they thought of something that no one else would think of. I’m sure it will do some what well because anything with a vampire is being snatched up and devoured.

But for me, I feel like someone just killed my cat.

My Own "Jennifer Project"

In an attempt to find more things named Jennie or Jennifer in a self imposed contest with my friend Jake I thought I had won the war when I discovered that there was a Jennifer Island in Canada. “HAH!” I exclaimed, “I have my own Island.” Happy in my triumphant win, I then discovered that there was a Jake Island and a Jacob Island. It as at this point that I had to fold. Even though I had found several Jennifer/Jennie/Jenny/Jen combos Jake/Jacob was the winner with more than twice as many geographical locations, the cards were clearly in his favor. And in case you are wondering In the United States alone there are these geographical locations with variations of the name Jennifer.

1. Jenifer, Alabama
2. Jennie, Minnesota
3. Jennie, Georgia
4. Jennie, Arkansas
5. Jennie Run Estates, Maryland
6. Jenny Gap Historical, West Virginia
7. Jenny Lind, California
8. Jenny Lind, Arkansas
9. Jenny Lind, North Carolina
10. Jennys, South Carolina

But what I found even more interesting in my quest to find all things Jennie/Jennifer was that a Blogger had started this thing she named The Jennifer Project. Which this Jennifer's goal was to meet and photograph different Jennifers' around the world/U.S. Each tell a story of their love or love/hate relationship with the name Jennifer. And it inspired me to write my own story with my love, mostly hate relationship with my namesake.

I knew that I had been named after someone specific in the family and that it was a grandmother, but I wasn’t sure how far back that went. So I did what anyone searching for answers about their family would do…. I called a family member. So now the mystery is solved. I was named Jennie (Well my birth certificate reads Jennifer) after my Great-Great-Great Grandmother on my Mother’s Father’s side. I also knew that if I weren’t Jennifer, I would have been named Margaret but nicknamed Maggie; which I can only assume is because it was my Great Aunts name.

In the earlier chapters of my life when I was discovering who I was and what that meant I remember trying the different spellings and versions of Jennifer. At home I had a slew of different nicknames Jennie Girl, G-girl, and Hennie Pennie, are among the few. I thought I would try out spelling my name J-E-N-N-Y for a change. It was easier to write, seem to flow better when written in cursive and I could create a cute little curly-q at the end of my name with accent to the y. To me Jenny sounded more fun, peppy, perhaps cheerleader-esq and even more so, it sounded popular and I needed all the help I could get.

Of course that came to an end when I brought home a paper with my new found spelling of and got quite the lecture about it. I remember my mother saying “I didn't name you JENNY with a Y, I named you Jennie with an IE after your great grandmother…” and the rest will remain a mystery but the message was clear and I would spend the rest of my life arguing that same point. “It’s Jennie with an I E not Jenny with a Y.” or “No it’s J-E-N-N-I-E” It felt more unique to be Jennie and it actually lumped me in the category of “weird name” children because after all, I was born in the 80’s and nearly every other child was named Jennifer.

The hate for my name came later in my life when I would constantly hear my grandmother screaming my name from across the room always accenting the “Fer” part. Even as I write this I can hear her calling my name and sometimes would wake startled in the middle of the night thinking she was calling me. From that point, I would growl angrily at anyone who called me Jennifer, asking them to please not address me as such because I was named after my Grandmother and her name was Jennie.

I also adopted the story I would tell people that my mom was too stupid to not know that you could name your child anything (with reason) and she thought she had to name me Jennifer. At least that’s what I had hoped because Jennifer seemed to peg me too closely to other people and I of course, was a star destined to outshine them all. Perhaps that is why I took same route in "slightly different" when I adopted Jenn, It's that extra N that makes all the difference.

Story of our lives.....

I’m addicted to memoirs. I’m not sure what it is that captivates me so but I cannot get enough of them. I find others lives fascinating – Mostly I read things having to do with psychology or the human mind and its ability to overcome traumatic events.

I’ve recently been reading a lot of books about people in foster care or who have encountered some type of abuse as a child. I think I cling to these books heavily as a source and way to move past my own traumatizing events. I find a common bond with the writers in which many of us share a hatred for the Child Protection systems and foster cares. While I never had to deal with a foster home first hand – I can only imagine the horror stories, but I also am able to see that there are good people who want more than a paycheck, who want to help people get better. And then I realize I am drawn to these memoirs because they allow me the knowledge that I am certainly not alone and they allow me to see how others cope with their own abandonment or abuses. It gives me ideas on ways to conquer my own demons.

I just stayed up reading a book I got from the bookstore yesterday called Three Little Words in which one [now] semi-famous girl Ashley, recounts her years in the foster care system where she endured harsh homes as well as adequate ones.

As I’m reading this book I feel a lump grow in my throat every time she talks about her love for her biological mother. How her mother was able to hold a hard grasp over her and the power and desire she had to be with her mother despite her own knowledge of her mothers instabilities. The lump I felt was my own need and connection with my own mother. How like the author, I always believed that my mother could and would change because she wanted my siblings and I. And while she may have wanted us and she loved us and like Ashley's mother, she was unable to conquer her own demons.

It’s interesting how much I clung to the need for my mother to be around, how much I cling to the idea of having a mother, even though I feel that time has long passed for me. I have several Stand-in mothers, unfortunately none of them can touch the want and need I have for my own mother. I find that my resentment towards her stupidity and actions make me hate her but love her still the same. It’s the torn emotions that really get to me and I saw these same conflicting emotions in Ashley story. Her story truly spoke to me.

Taking some time...

I took an extra week off of work to catch up on things I'm never able to do because of my work schedule, like Clean, do laundry, Go to my school, fill out paper work, get registered for classes. Drive around, find a new job... things I never get to do because I have to work.

Really I'm on a two week medical leave because I had my gallbladder removed. And While I could have returned on Monday, I choose to take the extra week because my doctor said that it takes about 2 weeks before a person returns to work. I have a doctors note and that makes this week even sweeter.

Granted, I'm not being paid for this leave, I also knew it was coming so I took the necessary steps to prepare. My bills are paid for a bit and that makes me not stress and enjoy the time off. A mini vacation for me -against my employers wants. But I hate them anyway and really wish they would fire me so I could collect unemployment and try and find a part time job for school. I am so over their dumbness.

I want to do a photo shoot soon, I just don't know what of. I really need to work with my camera some more, its not getting used enough. How sad. Anyone have any suggestions?

And that's what's going on in the boring world of Jennie.

The Show Must Go On....

Today is one of those days where I feel so blah, abandoned, and alone. It happens from time to time. And whenever I express my feelings towards it, I’m often told that what I’m feeling is ridiculous and that I’m just trying to cause guilt in other people. But it’s not really the case. It’s me who feels the guilt, because I feel like this. Because I feel like I should have more attention, when I get a little more than others.

Granted recently, I have had some, but mostly, I gave myself attention and occasionally there would be a little bit. Is it wrong of me to have wanted more? And that seems to be the problem. I need more than a few absentminded seconds before someone goes off to something else. I need a lot more, and I haven’t been able to get it in recent months, years really. I wanted to get better so I could do more things and not have to spend all my time alone in a bed healing. I wanted to be able to refresh and rejuvenate, get a better grasp of things. But it didn’t seem to go that way.

I can’t seem to move myself from needing people. Specific people. The people that don’t really have the time for me or the people who have that have other things to do. Being alone a lot gets to me… and then I get into these moods where I feel like my world is sinking and I forgot how to swim, and I almost just want to drown, but know I can’t.

I shouldn’t feel like this.

Status Update: Missing Gallbladder....not so missed

The official Status

I went in at 11 AM to the hospital for a surgery that was supposed to be at 1 PM, I didn’t actually get into the O.R until 7 PM – they kept having surgeries run late. And I should figure, as we were coming off a holiday weekend that included alcohol and explosives. I know those two don’t mix.

Surgery went well, from what I’m told there were no complications and they were able to do it entirely Laparoscopic. Which means I only have three 1-inch incisions on my stomach and one in my belly button area. I was real nervous about this because they said because of my weight there could be a lot of complications and they may have to do the old fashion cut me open approach. Scaring should be minimal.

Always the one for humor, the drugs they had me on made me exceptionally funny, or awkward. I did however make the Anesthesiologist laugh on a few occasions. The first part when they were having me switch to the Operating table, they put the back down on the bed I was on, which scared me so I just was like “oh shit, we’re going down” which made everyone laugh. Then again, when they were waking me from the anesthesia, I apparently said, “Holy shit, what did you guys do to me, it hurts so bad!”

And then while coming out of it, in the recovery room, I commented on my shoulder hurting really bad and the conversation went like this.

Nurse: Didn’t they tell you that your shoulder was going to hurt a little from the gas injected?
Me: No, no they did not
Nurse: We’ll now you know
Me: I sure do, Noted.

And then I came in and out of it, and anytime they said my last name, I would raise my hand and point at myself…. Which made a few nurses giggle.

I got out of the Hospital and home at about 11:30 PM, they wanted me to stay over night because it was so late, but I got to go home.

Yesterday I pushed myself entirely too hard to be self-dependent, and ended up hurting myself a little more. So today I’m typing this from bed, I haven’t moved much and the movements I do make is at 80-year-old pace. I have to stop every few seconds to catch my breath; healing sucks. And so do Low-fat Diets!

I’m doing decent, I thank everyone for notes of concern and I will keep you all posted and all the concerned texts I’ve gotten. Sorry if I haven’t replied to each one individually, I’m coming in and out of consciousness with the pain medication.

Work really grinds my gears.

I really dislike people that are of the mindset that a persons job should be held over their head and that they should be made to fear being fired. With the economy being what is was and what it is many companies are taking advantage of the desperate nature of individuals by placing sweatshop like policies on their employees.

I know that a business is a business and that it must function correctly with everyone doing their jobs, but I also realize that the most successful companies are those who value their employees and understand the idea of a "happy worker."

The idea is that if an employee is happy with their position and what they do, they will work harder, thus generating more profit for the company. On the flip side, if an employee is subject to doing a task that they do not like and are not treated well, they are less likely to complete the task at a fast rate, thus lowering the generation of income.

A lot of the productivity has to do with the higher level and lower level employee interaction. If situations always seem confrontational it causes a lot of unnecessary. pressure in the air. If an employee makes a statement about something they are finding particularly hard to deal with the response in which their superior or another employee gives makes a difference in how things will progress.

Scenario 1:

Employee: Sometimes I wish we could catch a break it seems like the work load is just so intense it would be nice to see that the rock that time we spend working on it seemed to be making a difference.

Supervisor: We'll if we didn't have work than you wouldn't have a job.


Scenario 2:

Employee: Sometimes I wish we could catch a break it seems like the work load is just so intense it would be nice to see that the rock that time we spend working on it seemed to be making a difference.

Supervisor: I know it looks like you're not accomplishing anything but you're really doing a good job and I appreciate your hard work.

In those scenarios which do you think would promote the person to work harder or just do what they need to do to keep their jobs. The bottom line is positive reinforcement generally works to the advantage of the employer. Human nature is to enjoy having egos fluffed. In the same manner that someone who has obtained a Doctorate loves when people call them "Dr." because they worked hard for what they have.

I guess my problem also lies within the idea that I enjoy that I get paid when I do work, but even more than that I am driven by recognition and the need to feel as the fruits of my labor are something that can make me gain not only in a monetary since but also in pride. The problem is, I work for a company that treats their employees fairly badly and they use negative reinforcement as something to make a person work just so they can continue to have a job.

The idea that the words "There are a bunch of other people that would love to have your job" was said in a speech that was supposed to promote productivity doesn't sit well with me. It makes me sad that some people actually think there is nothing better out there. It's like a really abusive relationship and my employers know this.

He is teaching me...

I remember I was driving with a CD I had created of some music, the windows were down and it was rather warm considering the weather we had been having. I was enjoying the warmth of the sun for one of the first times since before fall and winter began. All in all, it was a good day.

I’ve found that music is an outlet for musicians to purge their emotions out and if they’re heard sometimes someone can connect with what they’re saying.

I’ve always been found of Flyleaf songs for their meaning and content. Not to mention my addiction to the singers voice. Her voice has something that captivates me. The lyrics are always something I can relate to on some level and more recently I had discovered some songs I had not known about before.

The song opened and I wasn’t paying too much attention until I heard a specific phrase:

“He has every reason to throw up is fist in the face of his god who let his mother die, through all the prayers and tears she still passed in pain anyway…”

This hit me particularly hard because while it hit on a religious level it also hit on a level of loss, which is not always of a religious standpoint. So I listened a little bit more and it continued, “You think there’s no use in praying, but still he bows his head so he can say thank you for ending her pain…” at this point I was hooked, but I wanted to hear more. I could feel the bumps in my skin begin to rise as I listen to these lyrics. So I hit replay to hear the song all the way through.

This song hit me in a way that made me question my faith these days because often I am turned off by religious speeches and talks. While I have belief and I was born and raised Catholic, my religious views tend to be a little more toned down and to myself. Most people want to share their religion and preach it to the world but I on the other hand keep it to myself. It’s not that I think of it as something that needs to be a secret, but more something that is private and something I like to keep to myself. It’s like something good that I keep for me, like a memento or shared moment with a friend.

In essence I look at religion as something that I have for me and myself, to keep me moving. A reason this song particularly spoke to me was because of the lines “You think there’s no use in praying…” I’ve never really been one to pray and often when told to say prayers I shrug it off as something not necessary. My belief is that god knows what I am thinking and so my thoughts alone count as prayer without saying things like the “Hail Mary” or “Our Father.” The idea of an “organized” prayer turns me away. It’s also why I’m not found in church often when a mass is being said, but rather will go when there isn’t much going on in the church and I can be alone in my thoughts. So instinctively this son talks about the idea of prayer and doing it more often, but I needed to hear more, So I hit replay and listened to the song I was really able to feel/understand the song in a more complete way.

Supernatural – Flyleaf

Her headaches constant,
Increasing in pain with each passing day.
She can't even manage to stand on her own
It’s gotten so bad.

You think in saying there's no use in praying
But still she bows her head
So she can say thank you for just one more day.

Supernatural patience
Graces her face
And her voice never raises
All because, of a love, never let go of.
Never let go of...

He has every reason to throw up his fists
In the face of his God who let his mother die.
Through all the prayers and tears,
She still passed in pain anyway.

You think in saying there's no use in praying
But still he bows his head
So he can say thank you for ending her pain.

Supernatural patience
Graces his face
And his voice never raises
All because, of a love, never let go of.
Never let go of...
He is teaching me
What love really means.

Supernatural patience
Graces his face
And his voice never raises.
All because, of a love,
Never let go of.

Yes it's supernatural patience.
It graces his face
And his voice never raises.
All because, of a love,
Never let go of.
Never let go of...

He is teaching me
What love really means.

This song means more than religion; it’s also about the choice to see something good out of something bad. For the woman she speaks of she looks at her illness as a problem, but she also looks at each day as a gift and something to be proud of something to be thankful. While she suffers, as many of us do – she is also thankful that she can spend time here. She embraces life even though hers is crumbling before her. “Thank you for just one more day…” which made me realize that even in my trials and bumps along the road I have a lot to be thankful for and a lot that I take for granted, like “just one more day.”

And then the song goes into talk about the other person affected by the woman’s death. “He has every reason to throw up his fists in the face of his God who let his mother die…” more often than not I am quick to push the blame else where and in the instance of my grandmother and grandfather dying my anger was displaced and aimed towards god or a higher power. I would become angry arguing that pain and suffering should not be allowed. And then the song moves further into the man bowing his head and saying “thank you for ending her pain…” and it opened up something I was always conscious of but never really fully acknowledged, which is again the idea of two sides. In this instance the death, while sad brought an end to pain, which we can all be thankful. In some instances a death could mean life for another person (which is why I’m all for organ donating, but that’s an entirely different post for another time.)

Really, what this song taught me is “supernatural patience” it opened my eyes to the idea of my religion and being able to call on it for strength in hard times but also to realize that this isn’t the end and there is always something more. There are always two sides to the story and two ways to look at things.

I brought home the smell of Happiness in a bag...

And time for an update…

I’ve officially been back at my own house now for about 2 and a half hours. And I’ve done pretty much nothing other than take a cold shower and throw some clothes in the washer.

I didn’t realize how exhausting flying can be. My body is done, even if I did spend most of the day asleep. I was just catching up from the lack of sleep I got the day I flew home.

So that being said, right before I left for my trip out to Arizona I got these sharp pains in my upper abdomen right below my right breast. The pains lasted for almost 4 hours and I left work early. As I was driving home the pains subsided but since I had insurance I thought it would be smarter if I actually used the insurance.

So I went to the doctor and then I was told to get an ultrasound of the problematic area so I did that the day before I flew out and they told me they would call me with the results. Twenty minutes after landing in Arizona I get a phone call from the doctor, apparently I have gallstones of which I have to see a specialist about and I also have a fatty liver, of which, the doctor didn’t say much in regards to it. Great.

So now that I’m back in town I’ll go pick up my referral and then schedule an appointment with a gallbladder specialist, but I have no idea when I’ll be able to even go pick up the referral… We’ll see.

So that’s the health issues I face. On a good note, I received word from the community college that I have gotten a pell grant and some state aid totally in a little under 5000.00 for the semester which should be perfect to pay for full time classes and books leaving a little extra for living expenses and what not. I need to take school serious so I have a plan in development where I will work through the summer at my current job saving up and then in September when school starts I’m going to look for a part time job and then quit my current job. I’ve got to get school out of the way so that I can start my life… So hopefully I can do this. We shall see.

I'm a gallery of broken hearts, Know that maybe I will be okay...

Sometimes I sit and think of how insecure I must be to allow these people who while, have helped me out in some tough situations, tend to treat me like crap. I’m not trying to play the victim card because I am by no means innocent at all, I know I can be quite the fuck up, but my intentions are generally good I think.

I’ve been extraordinarily picky about who I bring into my circle this time around and I think that has left me pretty friendless.

I don’t have the same kinds of friends that I used to have. The ones that want to hang out a lot, or just chill. I have friends with busy lives who have more to do than they can handle and I just feel like a this extra (a lot of extra) weight that they have to carry around as to not watch me sink into this horrible depression.

But then I think, Damn it, I deserve attention. I deserve to be treated with some respect. To be more than just Jennie, but someone who is interesting and has things to say. But with some people, there are only certain things that can be said and a door has been closed.

I miss being able to talk freely without quilt consuming me. It’s not all my fault I feel guilty, but it certainly isn’t all of the other peoples faults either. Things will be better when I learn how to stop feeling…

Other than being extremely upset with myself things are progressing along smoothly. I still continue to hate my job, but my first semester in college has ended and I think I came out somewhat on top.

I’m getting ready for a trip back to Arizona, where for a brief shining moment I will have friends that just want to hang out with me but I’m sure once I return I will feel this lump of emptiness burning within me.

I just needed to whine/vent etc…

I’m fine, just a few bumps and frustrations.

Two steps froward, two steps back...

Making some progress…

For the past year I have wanted to buy a dSLR camera and move forward in my knowledge and skills with being a professional, or semi-professional photographer. Any time I had the money, something always came up and I ended back at square one, and wasn’t able to progress any further.

I can now check that off the list. Done.

The problem with this now is I’m finding everything that I knew about photography was nothing. I’m starting at square one and having to learn everything. Now, its all about lenses (which by the way, did I mention they’re an arm and a leg?) It’s about lighting and being able to focus correctly. Granted, I do have an auto focus and automatic setting for the “point and shoot” variety, but it’s not going to cut it this time.

I’m a big kid now.

I’ve come out of a pretty tough week. My job and my boss really has started to get to me and I’ve almost had it with the petty bullshit double standard that’s been taking place. Generally, there are always some double standards and there’s always some favoritism, but this is getting ridiculous.

Example one – we’re allowed to read when it’s a little slow, as long as we’re getting our work done. I see people reading catalogs, People, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, the bible – the slow time I take as a great time to do some homework so I had a book out open on my desk. I wasn’t really reading it at the time; I just had it open so I wouldn’t lose my place. My boss comes over, interrupts me mid phone call (you know, when I’m working) and tells me I can’t be doing my homework at work? Whoa, I can read trashy tabloids but I can’t read my Making Literature Matter textbook? Where is the sense in that? No only did she interrupts my call, but my customer could HEAR her talking to me and in that moment she undermined my ability to actually do my job. The customer now doubted my capability. Yes, way to go Roe!

And guess what, she wrote me up for it too.

My week continued to go like this, this incident happened Monday. And then Tuesday she yelled at me for putting on lip gloss at my desk, citing “You can’t put make up on at your desk, do it before you get to work.”

But she can. And everyone else I’ve ever seen do it in front of her can.

Wednesday is the day I received the write up. Fabulous, there isn’t anything I love better than being criticized. It really starts my day out well.

Thursday, seemingly okay, she (Roe) only yells at us a couple times.

And then Friday, she yells at me because I had solved a customers problem (They were billed 6 months) when they shouldn’t have been, because the authorization tape that was recorded didn’t really give them authorization and should have been canceled. It wasn’t, so I issued a full refund for the client. At the end, I said my line “Were you completely satisfied with my level of customer service today?” to which the customer replied “Yes, thank you.”

Problem solved.

No, no it wasn’t. Then here comes Lawrence (The Chosen One) tapping me on the shoulder ready to pass of work to me, usually in the form of a screaming customer to which he didn’t attempt to help. It was my previous customers husband, he had called to bitch us out for, well billing him when we shouldn’t have. Which to some degree I understand….had I NOT issued any credits or attempted to resolve the issue, but I had…. So this guy just wanted to bitch me out. And on top of it all, his phone kept dropping so it was like this drawn out 3 part call where he cursed at me using every word he could. I can handle this so I allowed him to bitch occasionally mentioning that I had canceled the account and that credit was issued. Of course, after 3 months I clearly do not know how to do my job, so mid call Roe starts lecturing me, all of us, on how to handle extreme customers. And then she has someone come stand next to me coaching me on a call they cannot hear.

It could be me, but is she paying entirely too much attention to me?

It’s Friday, the course of the week has made my nerves shot. I’m pissed off at work, pissed off at my professor because he continues to make us do completely asinine assignments that degrade our intelligence and are rather redundant. He makes us analyze a 2-paragraph essay in 5 pages. And did I mention he keeps calling me Jess/Jessica/Jessie in written papers? It’ not like its out loud, its written out on a paper that clearly has my name typed out at the top. It has me hating the language I have grown accustom to loving.

But still, I’m making progress.

After 5 months of procrastination, I have joined a gym. Of which I have not set out a goal, but it will probably be something along the lines of 3 times a week, most likely after work. So here’s to me loosing some fat kid status.

Saint Paddy's day Reflection.....

Last St. Patrick's Day I was on Grandma duty. When you're old and dying of Pancreatic cancer, your strength is less than that of a younger person. I was there to help. I had to care for her.

As a tradition, every St. Patrick's day meant Corned Beef and Cabbage - And I was going to make it. I remember standing in the entry way of her room as she began to tell me how to make it. Her frail hands moved only slightly up and down like an imaginary seamstress working the cloth through a sewing machine as she indicated that I needed to make sure the seasoning packet was on the corned beef and to make sure the water was 3/4ths of the pot.

"Bring it to a boil," she said

But I was already on my way back to her kitchen to start the first step. I did not stop to fully listen to her instructions.

"Wait a Minute!" she screeched after me, and the hair on my neck stood on ends, remembering unpleasantly that it was the same screech she used when she called my name.

I sullenly went back, impatiently bouncing from one foot to another, barely listening as she told me more instructions. Why hadn't I listened to her then? The lesson she was teaching should be something I paid attention to. She was after all telling me how to make one of my favorite meals.

Stupidly, I assumed there would be other times. Next year, I would do this again. It didn't even cross my mind that in a weeks time, she would reach her final resting place.

So tonight, I'll be making Corned Beef and cabbage, hoping that the six different recipes I consulted will cook the roast the same way she would have. Not listening to her really made me regret. I can't change what is done, but because I didn't take the time to note all her delicious recipes has taken, it has had its toll on me.

I was her right hand girl in the kitchen so why is it that I can't cook? I should have paid closer attention to what she was saying so that when I was Head of the kitchen, I wouldn't be fumbling around like a 16-year-old boy on his way to second base.

Because now when I get the urge to make Speedy-fruit pie, or I want to know how long to cook a pot roast, I can't just dial her number and ask her the question, because she isn't there to answer. You never listen when someone says "One day you'll regret this" or "Cherish the moments you have..."

Wishing you were somehow here again

It’s been an exceptionally lonely week for me. And while some people were around a little and at times I was surrounded by a lot of people. I’m still feeling this overwhelming loss and loneliness. And for all purposes, with everything going on in my life I should be okay, if not happy.

I’m not broke nor am I struggling to survive, I’m thriving in an environment that was supposed to beat me. And at one point it did. New Jersey’s harshness has shown very little in the way of comfort or help in the attempts to pull myself from the shambles that I have created for myself. The “You’ll never make it” and the “you are a failure” statements have rung exceptionally loud in my ears from my lowest moments and even in my highest. I’m standing on top of this peek and I’m looking out upon this massive world waiting to be invaded and experienced.

I’m struggling only to breathe. Almost a year ago and I’m still struggling to find peace with myself to forgive myself and I can’t seem to do it. I ignored her calls and persistently had disregard to her needs. When she needed me the most, I collapsed under my own selfishness and inability to be strong. I know that I cannot blame myself for the cancer that took her, but I can’t help but take some responsibility for how quickly she went. I was anything but perfect in her eyes, I was a one-girl train wreck that was speeding down wrong track after wrong track, but I was attempting to find the right one with all the experiences I had. And time and time again after I would fall, she would pick me up and try and straighten me out. She tried what she knew how to do and I learned my lessons from tough love. I may have come out with a few scars and insecurities, but I’m still standing here today.

I fight each day for her. To prove that I can do it and so that in the end I can say that she is one of the people who is responsible for what I have become today. So that I can look back on my troubled past and know that I’ve fought hard to be where I am. But I’m having a rough time fighting this loneliness.

A Customer Service Rant...

Do the people who call into my place of business even realize that I could be a potential customer before they rip into me and say the shit they do? Does it even occur to them as Business owners, that they should treat people with respect regardless of their anger? As a customer service representative I am trained to allow comments to roll off like water off a ducks back. But there is only so much rudeness a person can take before they want to scream into the phone to FUCK OFF.

Today, I spoke with a lady who worked for Ken's Restaurant in Chicago, IL - She was by far the worst person I have spoken with in a long time, trying to use her management position at a restaurant get to me. And quite frankly it worked. She was charged, but the person that my company spoke with was not an authorized party so I canceled the account and issued the credits for the charges she received. She then demanded that she hear the tape of the conversation between an employee of hers and my company, of which I complied. She then proceeded to tell me that I, and my company was single handily responsible for the firing of said employee.

This was the straw that broke the camels back. I was irritated before because she wanted my assistance but wouldn't let me explain. Do not call me asking me questions and then not allow me to answer. And second, regardless of your anger, you do not blame me for you taking this out on your employee because you're an ass. Especially considering what I did for you. I did NOT have to give you your money back, legally, I do not have to do shit, however, as a customer service representative I have the compassion and understanding that sometimes a rep, who is not me may not speak clear enough for a person to understand what is being said. And that the person taking the call does not have the sense to ask them to slow down or repeat what they have said. And furthermore, this was after I have expressed that it was just a misunderstanding and I had apologized for the problem. Did you not get that I also resolved your issue? To me, this just makes you a vindictive ass hole on a power trip and as a potential customer I am completely turned off by your attitude. On a consumer side, I would be disturbed to have you be the person providing a service. And yes, I could be a potential customer, as she does not know where I live.

It's the kind of situation that makes me want to walk into the business and speak to the person in person and say."I was going to dine here but after a very unpleasant experience, I think I'd rather have my retinas torn out through my esophagus." Businesses rely on word of mouth and right now, my word of mouth would not be helping you very much.

The second thing I hate is when people call me and I will inform them of the contact and they will inform me that I am wrong and that this person would NEVER do what they have done. This irritates me to no end, do not speak for other people. That is a big pet peeve of mine. When people go off saying "Oh So-and-So would never do that..." and then I play the recording where So and so is CLEARLY doing what they would NEVER do. It makes me want to punch the person in the face and say HAH! Fuck you. Get over your ego and accept that it happened, I'm not making you responsible for the fucking charge or if there is no charge, I AM going to cancel the account, so just get the fuck over it and give me a chance to explain how I am going to assist you after I give you the information on WHY you got a letter/charge. Because, I will assist you.

My policy is to make the customer happy and that means doing whatever it takes and issuing as much credit as humanly possible. If you see 8 months of charges you will get 8 months of credit back from me. I'm in it for you. But do not question my morals and business practices because you're pissed off. When these people question my business practices, I have to question theirs. I have a list of places I will never go and never use because I base my opinions solely on the customer service that is provided.

Remember, being nice gets you further, being a dick head, gets you put on hold so I can file my nails, but first I have to run to the store to buy the nail file. Enjoy that hold time.

haunt the house of history and listen anew to the ancestors' wisdom.

It’s interesting what causes a persons wheels to turn. I was filling out this stupid little survey that comes up with creative ways to show different aliases a person would go by. For example, if you mix your middle name and the town you were born in, it would be your Soap Opera name. Mine was Marie Tucson. I got to one particular one where it asked me for the name of my grandmother on my moms side and my grandfather on my Dad’s side. It was supposed to be my NASCAR name, except; I couldn’t really answer the question correctly.
The only real things I know about my dad’s father is that he was called Red because of his Irish roots, he had very red hair. I also knew that he and my dad’s mom, my other grandmother were divorced. The only memory I have of my Dad’s mother is that she used to make cheesecake or have cheesecake when we went to visit her. She lived in a motel off of Benson highway.
And then, this all got me thinking about how little I really know about my dad’s side of the family. I know he has siblings and I’ve met some of them and some of them I never knew.
There is my Uncle Mike, who I’ve always know and has always been somewhat of a drifter, unable to grow up and continually in with the wrong crowd, but he always told me I was beautiful and that I should never think less than that.
Then there was my Aunt Louise, my only memories of her were that she had really long hair and was the person who took me to the library for the first time and got me a library card. I don’t know what age I was, but I vaguely remember doing it.
Aunt Katie, who one day when I was walking home from the bus stop pulled up next to me in a white van and asked me if I knew who Teresa Welch was, I said I did, and then she asked me where she lived, I was a little scared but I remember pointing towards the property that held the trailer I was heading into. Teresa was my mother, and then I told Katie that. She then asked me who I was Cassie or Jennie and I told her I was Jennie and that’s when she introduced herself as my Aunt Katie, Don’s (My dad) sister. I remember she had a daughter, but I can’t remember her name, only that she has a strange obsession with the characters Pain and Panic from Disney’s Hercules. And if I remember correctly, she lived somewhere in Alabama, or maybe it was Mississippi? It was a southern state
And then there was my Uncle Butch, I’m not sure if that is his real name, but I don’t recall ever meeting him. Or anything about him, and I think he’s actually dead now, but I can’t be sure.
Why is this part of my life so detached and unfamiliar? On my mother’s side I knew a lot of family and relatives. I spent many holidays with cousins and my grandparents Jean and Mike from my mom’s side. I know that 1st name was taken from my grandpa’s great great grandmother (Maybe there was one more great, or maybe one less) and I know that Marie is the name of an Aunt on my grandmother’s side and that she lived near D.C. I know that my grandpa grew up in Tennessee and that he supported his mother even after he had my aunt, uncle and mom.
I know a lot of little tidbits about my mother’s side of the family, a lot more than I can even imagine knowing of my dads. I don’t ever recall not knowing. For example, with my grandma’s side I know these people existed, some of them were Just known as “Great Grandma Crawford” or “Great Grandma Burba.” I feel a little detached without this knowledge of my dad’s side of the family. Like my family tree isn’t very complete and pieces are broken. I feel silly about all this, but the historian inside of me loves to know things like that.
I wish I could ask my dad, but some of it is hard to do. When someone is diagnosed mentally ill, It’s hard to ask questions about family, his family. I know he’s very proud of his children, and I know that he loves his siblings, but I’m not sure his childhood or family life is something he likes to talk about. It’s like I grew up without a father, except I didn’t and he was a great father despite the obstacles he faced, he did the best he could with what he had and the Hurricane force of nature that was my mother.
It’s not like I had nothing, I’m very thankful for the family I did have and did know about. I just wish I had more pieces to my puzzle.

Starting from Scratch.... again..

You take for granted when you have everything in your house at your fingertips when you're living at home or have already started a collection. I had a place back in Tucson - this place had all the staples one might need. We had spices, we had peanut butter, we had dishes and cutting knives. We had mixing bowls, and pots, we had pans for frying, we had spoons, forks and butter knives. We had everything one person might need in a kitchen and I stupidly left this all behind when I made the cross country trek.

Now I find myself thinking "I guess I'd better get peanut butter if I want peanut butter toast." Even staying with my friend as I had been, had an already established household. So the staples were already there, or at least they're what I call the staples. I only had to buy certain baking things because, well these boys don't bake, hell you'd be lucky if they even cooked with their busy on-the-go lifestyles.

Having moved all of my stuff into the house I set out to tackle the next task, I needed to buy groceries so that I wasn't stopping for fast food or grabbing a meal from the convenience store all the time. I made a list and attempted to conquer it. I was so excited because I had gotten some cereal that I really liked and hadn't had in a while and I even had milk that wasn't expired. And when I got home to my despair, I realized; I hadn't thought to buy bowls and the cups I had wouldn't hold much. That's when I realized I had reached a new "Ghetto-starving-student" low. I started eying the smallest sauce pan figuring that would work perfectly as a cereal bowl, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.