29 May 2008

Maybe it's for the best - maybe it's not for anything.

The word 'spent' has so many connotations.

He 'spent' all her money.
He 'spent' the night at her place.
He 'spent' inside her.
He is emotionally 'spent'.

sp»nt - Show Spelled Pronunciation[spent] Pronunciation Key
1. pt. and pp. of SPEND.
2. used up; consumed.
3. tired; worn-out; exhausted.
Webster's Abridged

Well, listen here, peeps, I am all 'spent' out. I emotionally, physically, and financially have nothing left to spend. In two days – yes, TWO DAYS – I am leaving the Lone Star State to return to Husker Nation. Bloody Hell! Ne-fecking-bras-ka. The one place I swore I would never live again. Ever. *insert self deprecating laugh here* It's funny how we plan and plan and think we are doing it all right – only to find out that it is all terribly wrong.

My spiritual advisor (for lack of a better title) told me recently that it would be in my soul's best interest to just hunker down, get through these last days in Texas without giving in to the dark cloud that has been stalking me. That once in Nebraska, I will be freer than I foresee and that the path I tread will lead me to bliss – or something close.

Maybe this time; this lifetime; I will overcome the demons and actually learn from my previous lives and their experiences. I am not looking for Nirvana this time around. I just want a little peace.

Yesterday, I 'spent' time with two people who make life worth living; even on the worst days. I stayed 'in the moment' with them for an hour and a half. I cannot recall the last time I was completely 'present' for a full 90 minutes. Normally, I am looking around, worried about the future or memorializing the past. Not last night. Not for those 90 minutes.

And, I am going to do my best at continuing to find 90 minutes here and 90 minutes there for more 'in the moment' living. I have two 10-year-old role models to emulate.

20 May 2008

First it killed the Romans. . .

My wedding band from my second marriage had an inscription in Latin:

Ego dilecto meo et dilectus meus

It is from the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament. It translates to "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine"

I'd like to give pause and focus on what it means to be "beloved".
Be*lov"ed.., n. One greatly loved.
Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.

Greatly loved by whom? By God? By our parents? Our children? Our lovers? I must ask myself whether or not I greatly love anyone. I know in my heart that I do. I must. I have this amazing capacity to share my affection and devotion – generally without abandon and without fear. Still, do I know how to truly love without prejudice?

I know how to unconditionally love. I do. Where I have issues is expressing myself clearly. I don't want to hold on too tightly for fear of suffocating the one whom I love. Yet, I need to make my presence known so that the recipient knows they are safe and secure and enveloped in my acceptance.

It is a fine line to walk. . . and one that I stumble upon every day. I pray that those who are greatly loved recognize their importance and openly embrace what is theirs to be received.

You are my beloved . . . and I am yours.

"Beloved One" by Ben Harper

We have both been here before
Knockin' upon love's door
Begging for someone to let us in
Knowing this we can agree to keep each other company
Never to go down that road again

My beloved one, my beloved one

Your eyes shine through me
You are so divine to me
Your heart has a home in mine
We won't have to say a word
With a touch all shall be heard
When I search my heart it's you I find

My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one

You were meant for me, I believe you were sent to me from a dream straight into to my heart
Hold your body and close to me
You mean the most to me
We will keep each other safe from harm

My beloved one, my beloved one, my beloved one

16 May 2008

Your Turn

I have a semi-obsession. It is an online game called "Scrabulous". From the name, I'd be willing to bet that you can picture its etymological origins.

Scrab = Scrabble
Ulous = Fabulous

Scrab + Ulous = Scrabulous (a fabulous Scrabble game)

I play it on Facebook. It is nice to play against my friends. A little friendly competition is good for any relationship. Veggie Girl and I play almost daily – and due to copyright issues (Scrabulous being sued by Scrabble) we have retitled the game "Wordle". Though it started as a joke, the name stuck. It's nice. I also play against old college friends – and existing work friends. I don't win as often as I would like; still, I enjoy the thrill of the chase.

I am also able to challenge random peeps and vise versa. I've been playing the game for months and months (that's a lot of months) and I have developed a few Scrabulous friendships. I cannot tell you a whole lot about these people's real lives, beyond superficial details; but I can tell you when they are having a lousy day or when they are stressed – generally based on their play (or lack thereof).

It's nice. You know? As the months have passed, I have noticed that as the friendships developed, so has my game. There is something comforting about knowing that someone else is as committed as I am to the relationship, without having to discuss it. I know that when I log into Facebook, Mr. Librarian, the Architect, or the Swiss, will be waiting – well, at least their games will be. It is a constant in this ever changing world - a constant that I hold onto for dear life some days. And I don't worry that when the game ends, it'll be over. Within a day or two, we'll have another game started.

The Scrabulous cycle – as it is.

I once had someone tell me that if I cannot commit to successfully raising a plant, then I will most likely have issues nurturing anything else in my life. I have to disagree with this assessment. Plants are fickle creatures and I have a black thumb. I believe that if I can successfully engage in an interactive, competitive, ongoing game of Wordle, then I can do anything I want in life.

That being said, Wordle, bitch!

I am understood?

"I Am Understood?" by Relient K

Sometimes it's embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
I'll bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified

And sometimes I'm so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of
The mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift you've given me
And I'm satisfied to realize you're all I'll ever need

You looked into my life and never stopped
And you're thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple, but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood

And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back and beg for you to go


You're the only one who understands completely
You're the only one knows me yet still loves completely

And sometimes the place I'm at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy I know that its already yours
And through the times I've faded and you've outlined me again
You've just patiently waited, to bring me back and then


The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation

15 May 2008

C U L8er

I am an avid text messenger. I am even known in some circles as having an innate talent for sending a mass text message while still making the recipient feel that it was only sent to them. Unfortunately, for me, I now have friends who require their name on the text message if I want a response. Spoil Sports!

The primary reason I text message is that I do not enjoy chatting on the phone, except with a select group of people. My family and many friends have been victim to my ever popular phrase, "well, I love you. Have a great day!" so that I can hang up. In fact, the other day my oldest-younger brother and I were in mid-conversation and I said that very phrase. His response was, "Jill, I wasn't done talking." Ouch! He called me out on my rudeness so I cheerfully talked a few more minutes. I think my problem is that I don't know how to end a phone conversation naturally with most people – resulting in me getting stuck on the phone with someone who also doesn't know how to end the conversation. It is uncomfortable! Perhaps it stems from my years in a call center where I had to close every conversation with "Is there anything else I can assist you with? Thank you for calling [company name omitted here]. Have a great day!"

I feel badly when I hurt people's feelings by my lack of wanting to talk – truly, I do. Still, it doesn't mean I want to keep chatting. My poor mom has gotten to the point where she'll say out of the blue, "I know you are busy and need to go." Even when I don't. And when one of my sisters calls, she just refuses to hang up. "Jilly Bean, we are not done. You are not hanging up." I cannot argue with her. I try – but never successfully. She is an emotional blackmail expert – in a good way.

So, back to text messaging. Here is the issue with text messaging that causes me issue. When you don't get a response; there are only two choices:

1. Assume the text message never arrived – and send another, increasing the risk of appearing like you are a clingy stalker.

2. Assume the person doesn't want to send you a response, which will inevitably give you a complex about your self-worth, etc.

See? There is no winning when it comes to unanswered text messages. What ever happened to tracking mechanisms and the inability to click through or delete a message without responding? Wait. . . maybe those never existed. Bloody Hell!

I suppose I do have one other issue regarding text messaging that I should briefly mention. I sometimes do it when I am inebriated, which results in me sending gibberish to multiple people at one time. Even I cannot decipher what it is I was trying to say.

That being said, I would love it if you would all text message me so that I can prove a point. . . that I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darnit, people like me."

13 May 2008

Taking a break. . . your thoughts?

I don't even know what taking a break means. I mean, the only image that comes to mind is the famous Friends episode where Ross sleeps with another woman, Rachel gets pissed, and all Ross can say is "But, we were on a break. . .". Is that what a break is? Is it time for one or both people in a relationship to behave as if they are not in a relationship while still holding onto the security blanket of a relationship?

Is a break really just a "break-up"? Is it like a trial-separation? I am not at all sure I understand the intended goal.

A friend once told me their opinion of a break. . .

"It's like attempting to hedge a bet; but, instead of winning a little on one horse, they risk losing the entire f'ing racetrack."

I don't know what to say or do. And it scares me. Because in the end, I really just want to be in a relationship, with all its good and bad, with the man I love.

10 May 2008

You're so vain, you probably think this blog is about you

Tonight, I saw the movie "What Happens in Vegas". It was excellent! I often go to movies by myself; and this was a good one to see alone, as I laughed very loud, and even cried a little. Ashton Kutcher is phenomenal in his role as Jack. Cameron Diaz complements him with romantic-comedy perfection.

Unfortunately for me, life is not like a romantic-comedy. Yet, it could be. I mean. . . romantic-comedies are great because they are filled with fights, and mix-ups, and confusion. They are great because in the end, love wins. In the end, two people figure out that they are better together than they could ever be apart. And it may not be as easy as the scripts lead us to believe - but it is well worth the work.

This weekend, wow, this weekend. Exactly one year ago tonight was the first night I spent in my new apartment. And I find, tonight, that I am still just as sad. The problem. . . I am still heartbroken - but the reasons have changed. I know that one person who may or may not read this post - well, this person's thoughts bring to mind a famous Carly Simon song. . . and just to clarify , it isn't just about you - or him - or even me.

It's about the fact that I am one year forward from where I was and I am still no closer to bedding Ashton K. Well, there is always next year.

Goodnight, Gracie.

09 May 2008

Curiouser and Curiouser

"Are you ever lonely in some motel room
Looking out the window at an ever-changing world?
Can you please fly back as when you and I were young
If anyone could make it, you're gonna be the one"
~ 'Super Girl' by Gin Blossoms

Hello, my name is Alice. I am lost in this crazy world called Wonderland. I'm following an elusive white rabbit who wears a waist coat and carries a pocket watch. When he sees me, he addresses me as Mary Anne, which I know isn't my name -- still, perhaps he'd stop running if I acknowledged it.

There is this cat who keeps appearing as well, though he is truly no help at all. Instead, he just leads me around in circles -- though I am sure there is some lesson I am missing. That is generally the case with life's lessons. Wouldn't you agree?

Whereever I wander, curious characters offer me tea, candy, and strange foods to eat. A queen wants to chop off my head and her wimp of a king tries to explain to her that I am just a young girl -- but she doesn't care - at least not at the moment.

I am alone here -- but not really. I will hold onto my faith. I know whom I love and I will continue along this journey until the world sets itself right.

As I said before, my name is Alice, and I will have a story to tell, as soon as I live it.

08 May 2008

Well we both know that's not been so. . .

"Old friendships fade away
Love falls apart"

I'd like to type something witty and clever. Truly I would. Instead, the rock in my stomach and the storm clouds in my mind make it impossible to see more than 30 seconds into the future without crying. So, for now, right now, I will only look 20 seconds ahead, which doesn't make me want to throw up or break down.

It's almost been a year since I moved out of the house. In the past year, all the furniture we once bought has been replaced, as has the car, and the female head of household. Someone else gets to live the American Dream with him and his children. The thing is – I don't want it to hurt and to upset me and to anger me. Still, it does. I am so easily replaced. He upgraded to a newer model. Bet she won't fuck it up like I did. Luckily for me, I'll be leaving soon and I won't have to worry about any of it again.

As for the rest of my world – it is not at all what I thought it would be.

I guess. . . I mean. . . yeah

I know this for sure – if one more person asks me whether or not I am okay or as to why I cancelled my going-away party, I may need a good criminal defense attorney and a solid alibi.

No, I am not okay – but there is nothing you can do, so please don't bother asking. And I cancelled it because I won't be there.

I am just so tired and the lack of stability in my existing situation is too much to handle. I don't want to be strong. I don't want to smile and pretend it's all okay. I want to curl up into the fetal position, hug my dog, and sob until I lose consciousness.

Note to those of you with whom I am related who feel that Mom needs to know how upset I am -- she doesn't - so keep your mouth shut. I just need to make it twenty more seconds and all will be fine.

01 May 2008

All it takes is a little poisonous gas to put it all in perspective

For those of you who avoid the news – be aware that mixing detergent with other household chemicals can be suicidal. In fact, it is so successful that there are web sites that not only tell you how to do it – but include a printable sign for you to hang on your door warning any visitors that you have killed yourself with toxic fumes – contaminating the general area. Talk about thinking ahead. Japan, the country with the highest suicide rate in the world (I think – don't quote me on this one), has had a rash of toxic fume suicides recently. The government solution is to attempt to block websites that display the recipes for these poisonous cocktails.

My solution is a little more effective, I think. Stop selling detergent and household cleaning agents. Only sell vinegar, baking soda, and water. That way the worst that can happen is a minor lava simulation. Remember in science class when we added red food coloring to water and baking soda? Then we would pour in vinegar and BOOM – Mt St. Helens right there on the desk. Amazing. The lava would come pouring out with bubbles and spitting – until the reaction wore off. I think there was a Brady bunch episode that did the same thing – except Bobby and Cindy were making the volcano and Marcia and the popular girls were in the backyard – and the lava exploded all over the girls and they yelled at Cindy and Bobby. Then Marcia decided that she didn't want to be in the popular girl's club anymore. What a crock of shite!

Anyway – back to toxic fumes. We breathe them in every day thanks to cars, planes, crop dusters, and people who toss the ashes of loved ones into the air as a means of "remembering them". I probably have a whole human inside my lungs. Oh well. It could be worse I suppose. Someone could poke me in the eye with a sharp stick.


Eidetic Vision

Main Entry: ei·det·ic Pronunciation: I-'det-ik Function: adjective : marked by or involving extraordinarily accurate and vivid recall especially of visual images - an eidetic memory Merriam-Webster's Dictionary, © 2002 Merriam-Webster, Inc.