The Life and Times of La Jenno

Just Look at You

2010-07-06T13:50:00.001-04:00

This is my newest song, written and performed (Raw, unedited, uptempo version) by yours truly, Jenny "La Jenno" Pakkala. Click the post/song title to listen.

I sincerely and truly hope you like jazz and enjoy this song. (lyrics after the jump)

Just Look at You

You're like a wounded bird
Who grew to be a butterfly
Trying to spread your wings and fly

But to emerge from your cocoon
You had to become immune
To all the things that they would say

Look at you, girl
You're showin' 'em how it's done
Look at you, girl
Don't let 'em spoil your fun
Just look at you, girl - look at you, girl

You ain't got time for posers
Not gonna take free-loaders
But you've still got fairness on lockdown

If they won't give you your freedom
Baby, you don't need 'em
You don't have to miss out when love is lost

Now look at you, girl
You're showin' 'em how it's done
Look at you, girl
You don't let 'em spoil your fun
Just look at you, girl - look at you, girl

If you've got worries
There's no need to hurry
Life isn't meant to be lived in a rush
Remember what I've told you

Just look at you, girl
You're showin' 'em how it's done
Look at you, girl
You don't let 'em spoil your fun
Now look at you, girl
Such a wonder you've become
Look at you, girl
Just look at you, girl

Ask ChaCha!

2010-01-31T14:51:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm sure a good deal of you all know by now about ChaCha, the free text service that offers you great quality answers to any question under the sun every time.

I am now an independent contractor for ChaCha!

This is the kind of opportunity I have been waiting a very long time for -- making money from home (in the nude, if I so choose!) -- and finally, it has found me.

My friend Tara asked ChaCha if they were hiring and when they told her "no," well, she wasn't satisfied. That was about the worst answer ever, considering that ChaCha is still accepting applications for guides! How it works is that you are rewarded points for answering and expediting questions and at the end of each month, those points are then turned into cash. The exact amount that each point is worth varies since we work from a pool of money - the GuideShare payment pool. Currently, I have racked up about 4200 points to make $30ish.

The tricky part is this -- each query processed by a Generalist or Specialist is worth 8 points while queries processed by Expeditors are worth 2 points. It can take a while for them to start adding up, and at just a few cents per transaction, it doesn't seem like much at all. Possibly even more work than it's worth.

The redemption for this is found in how incredibly and ridiculously FUN it is. I am simply amazed at all the things I am learning, how often I'm laughing, and just seeing the wide variety of questions that come in.

If you would like more information about the application process to become a ChaCha Guide, go to ChaCha's home page and click the image on the right. You will find pretty much everything you need to know to get started.

So, I may be on a bit of an extended hiatus of sorts. I might discontinue this blog entirely. I'm just not sure what I'm going to do just yet, but I do know that I still care for each and every one of my followers and the kind, supportive feedback I've received in my short time here on BlogSpot.

If you have any burning questions for ChaCha while you're on the go, just text 242-242 or call 1-800-2-CHACHA for all your Q&A needs.

And remember... ChaCha loves you!

Happy Belated New Year

2010-01-19T15:21:00.000-05:00

Well, it's a new year, a new decade... for the first time in a long time, I find myself feeling very hopeful for the future and where it's headed.

With Marc's new job, I find myself with a bit too much alone time. Learning to manage that time has been a bit of a problem for me -- I'll usually just sit in front of the computer and mess around on the internet all day long. Once in a while, I'll go and visit a friend or have company over. Either way, the laundry, dishes and decluttering aren't really getting done. So yeah... I really need to learn how to manage my time a little better once my back isn't messed up any longer.

What's up with the back? Oh, I think I might have a bulging or slipped disk. Not sure what the exact term is for it, and I can't afford to go to the doctor to even get a referral for an MRI to find out for sure what's wrong. All I know is that I'm experiencing chronic acute pain that is exaggerated by sitting, standing, shifting my weight and coughing. When I do any of the above, it is exaggerated by shooting down my left leg mostly - although sometimes also my right - and feels like a very sharp tug in my hip, knee and heel along the outer/rear areas. It's hard to do housework when you're in pain, moving along spasmodically. If I could get rid of the problem, it'd be much easier. I just can't afford it right now.

So, on one hand, things are going better than ever - we'll likely be moving in to an actual house as soon as we can start saving some money up. On the other, not so much - emotionally, I'm not in the best of places. Not being able to get anything done with the housework is making me feel a little less than awesome. I don't know if we're low income anymore or not, but even so, I don't know if I'd be able to get insurance through the state and not get hassled about being unemployed. The only way that this house will ever get clean is if I am here to take care of it, end of story. Besides that, there is also the way I'm overly emotional and its effect on my ability to work. It's very frustrating to be in the place I'm in, but I'm hoping it will work out somehow. I guess only time knows that now.

All in all, I have found purpose in just being here for Marc. He's the best thing to have ever happened to me, hands down. I find immense joy in being able to keep such a wonderful person happy - everyone agrees that he's impossible to measure up to in many ways. I'm in constant awe of him and the honest and generous love that we share. It's simply amazing to me. Whether or not I get the housework done, he still tells me I'm awesome; he's happy just to see my smiling face.

I'm such a lucky, lucky, lucky girl. Right now I'm just focusing on today and more ways to grow our happiness. That's enough of a purpose for me now.

:)

2009-12-28T18:56:00.000-05:00

Woman kills thug, escapes on subway

Thoughts?

If Only

2009-12-26T19:48:00.002-05:00

If only I knew how to get there
I think I've lost my way;
All the dreams that I've forgotten
And the things I meant to say.

If only there were somehow
To find my wings and fly;
But perhaps I'm meant to learn
How to ignore the urge to cry.

If only my voice could be heard
Strong and vibrant through the air;
But I'm such a fool to believe
That anyone might even care.

If only I hadn't given up
On who I might or could have been;
Maybe then life would seem worth living
And merely breathing wouldn't feel like such a sin.

Merry Christmas to one and all

2009-12-24T12:58:00.000-05:00

Since I'm going to be out of town tonight and most of tomorrow, I'd like to just say "Merry Christmas" to everyone right now!

Of course, Marc and I being atheists, we don't really celebrate. But still!

Merry Christmas!

Yay!

2009-12-22T01:29:00.000-05:00

Marc's starting a new job tomorrow! Yay! He'll be making a little more than he was at O'Reilly's, at least for a little while. I'm hoping that it'll turn out permanent. He'll also be getting paid weekly. Very nice.

I've gotta get the house cleaned up for him now... well, not right this minute, but soon. Very soon.

F-bombs beyond the jump

2009-12-11T15:11:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I finally went to the dentist yesterday - I haven't been in about a year - and got to have my teeth examined and "appraised." The damage this time totals $2,058.

What the fuck?!

Seriously? You know, I would ask why my teeth are rotting away, but I already know why. Pair bad genes with a ferocious soda habit and you get rotten teeth. I've got that. Never mind...

I have got to go brush my damn teeth. And keep doing it twice or thrice a day. For at least 30 days straight. Wish me luck. New good habit incoming.

Still swimming along

2009-12-07T19:51:00.000-05:00

Just a short post to let you all know that I'm still here, just haven't had the energy to do much lately. Fibromyalgia, a bad tooth and stress are totally kicking my ass right now. I did draw a fishy today though. I don't like it much, but I'll share anyways.

Hope you all are well!

Gobble Gobble Gobble!

2009-11-27T15:18:00.002-05:00

If I had to pick my favorite holiday, it's Thanksgiving. It's all about getting together with your favorite people, usually family, and chowing down on some bomb-diggity food. For our Thanksgiving we had salads to start then turkey loaf with gravy (the kind you get in the frozen food aisle in the little roasting pan and a cardboard lid), mashed potatoes, stuffing, broccoli casserole and Sweet Hawaiian rolls followed by pumpkin pie. It was nothing short of delicious. Marco cleaned off two plates! I barely finished mine. I was so full from my full plate. All my food was mounded and touching each other on a large dinner plate, if that tells you anything! Ha!

SO here's some photos
from our T-day. Hope y'all had a good one too!

Here's me with Marc, his sister, and his mom and dad. I'm so happy and blessed to have such an awesome set of in-laws! I wish everyone could be so lucky.

Wait? I thought I was in that photo too?!

Just kidding... the first one was taken right after the second, actually. It's just hilarious. I created a time rift. There's only tiny differences between the two photos. I spotted only THREE big changes and one small one. And yes, the big ones are fairly obvious; they're not copied photos, mind you.

And finally here's me and Marc with my folks. Yep, this is out of order too. it was taken before two of the others but not another. Side-game: in what order were they taken?
And yeah, Marco's blinkin. The first flash hits, the eyes close. Reflexes are a bitch, eh?

What were y'all thankful for this year? I counted my combined family, having a home to live in and enough support to keep chugging along, but mostly just that nothing's ever gone too crazy that it couldn't be fixed. That in and of itself is a huge blessing that a lot of other people miss out on, perhaps a little moreso in this area than others. You see it every day here; I hope that my readers are blessed to have not experienced such traumatic and heart-wrenching events.

And I hope y'all had a great T-day too.

bewilderment

2009-11-20T20:11:00.000-05:00

It's that time of night again where I go searching for a buzz... anything that will give me that warm feeling, the light almost-electric "hum" in my nerves that both relaxes and strains me. I've found myself feeling the "need" to get high almost every day at some point or another, but most strongly in the evenings. I don't search out a buzz every night, although when I do it's nearly always around 7 or 8 in the evening. The reason for doing it is still a mystery to me; my only explanation for it is that I'm an addict. There are no limits to my addiction, either: anything that can give me those warm fuzzies or help me forget reality and the burdens of life for a moment will suffice.

While I haven't tried very many drugs, I have done more than enough to hang my head in shame over it. I'm ashamed to have been pressured into trying any of them and even more ashamed to have been excited to try any of them. I am proud, however, that I have not ever shot anything up... then again, I can't say for sure whether I would have if I had the chance in the past. Knowing me, I probably would have tried it. Thank goodness I never had the opportunity; I know that if it does come up in the future I can say no without even thinking about it.

I honestly wish that I knew why I am so uncomfortable in my own skin. It could be because of the bullying I endured in childhood. It could be how life always feels surreal to me in that I often find myself imaging what others' lives might be like. It could be that I'm just chronically and majorly depressed. But why? I don't understand it. I don't understand why I wake up every day wishing that I was never born. My life is not terrible by any means.

What I do know is that I want these feelings -- the need to use drugs, the feelings of inadequacy, wishing the world would just stop -- to end. It's awfully confusing, frustrating, and frightening to feel these things so strongly and persistently. I want to stop jumping every time I hear a loud noise. I want to be able to talk to people without worrying what they think of me. I want to be able to have enough confidence to find myself. I wish there was a way to get effective treatment here. Between the shortage of funds and the shortage of capable therapists in the area, it seems there is nothing I can do about it for the time being. At least I know I can hold on until the time is right. I just wish that it would come sooner.

Looking up

2009-11-20T00:17:00.000-05:00

First off, I apologize to those of you who've been back every day to see if I've posted something new. I'm sorry I left you hanging for so long. Things have been a little hectic around here between trying to get and keep the house clean before my folks come on Tuesday -- they'll be here for three days -- and trying to stay amused. I've recently gone a bit OCD on peeling my fingernail off on my left thumb; whether it's straight-up OCD or anxiety (or some combination of the two, perhaps), I haven't a clue. It hurts, and I want to stop... but I just can't seem to. I guess as long as it doesn't get infected, I'm okay. I'll just keep trying to leave it alone I suppose.

Some great news -- Marco has a physical and drug test on Monday for Toyota.... Finally, he'll be making the amount that his dedication, loyalty, and reliability actually warrants, thank goodness. He starts at the Princeton, Indiana plant in about three weeks. The sort-of bummer about it is that he got the job through a temp agency which means that they get some of what he makes as commission and it's not for certain whether he will be able to stay there after his contract is done. Also, we don't know just how long the contract is even for. I guess we will just have to keep our fingers crossed, although I'm fairly sure that they'll see the same awesome things about his hard work as O'Reilly's has and not want to lose him. It's unfortunate that they couldn't pay him what he's actually worth (or even something approaching it would've been great), but it's their loss. Marco and I will both be laughing about it - in totally "I told you so" fashion," natch - when they can't find someone that comes anywhere close to replacing him. He's more or less been the assistant manager there for over a year - without the pay or the title. It's bull, really, and I'm thankful that we've been able to stick it out and get the timing right for the opportunity he's pounced on.

So hopefully by this time next year, we'll be living in an actual house in a quieter area. Princeton's not a bad town, although I'm only going on what Marco's told me. If things go well, we might be out of the trailer by March or April at the latest, November if things don't go according to plan.... So I suppose we're aiming for July or August... because we all know that nothing ever goes totally according to the plan.

Hope all you loverly readers are well! <3

The Paulding Light

2009-11-08T17:46:00.000-05:00

For the longest time, there have been persistent rumors and belief that The Paulding Light is a haunted site. Check it out for yourself -- The Mysterious "Paulding Light" on YouTube - contains some information and one of few recordings of the light.

It's Harder Than I Thought

2009-11-08T06:15:00.000-05:00

One of the things I've been really missing lately is, surprisingly, the one thing I didn't think I would miss all that much.

Home. The place where I come from, the place that allowed me to be protected to some small extent.... I can't honestly imagine having grown up anywhere else, although it had its shortcomings. At least I thought they were shortcomings; as it turns out, they're actually perks in their own quirky ways.

The Upper Peninsula of Michigan @ Panoramio

Life's a Bitch

2009-11-05T19:43:00.000-05:00

As much as I hate to complain (alright, perhaps I like to complain, although I hate the amount of complaining that comes from me -- does that make any sense?), one of my biggest problems in life is not getting due recognition. I'm not talking about being under-appreciated or unloved; I'm talking about fame levels.

Most folks, after they've known me for a little while, know that I would absolutely love to be recognized for my vocal talent and social vision. The view that "people are people are people" (or something similar to such) is a rather common one, although it's not brought into practice enough. A lot of the material that I write (and aspire to write) involves that view. If there were any one dream that I could have become a reality, it would be for my thoughts, ideas and honest love for people and their well-being to come to fruition.

While it's quite true that I don't generally enjoy having others around me, it is also true that I honestly and genuinely love people -- while I tend to resent the ignorant and hateful things that some can do to one another and themselves, I realize at the same time that I am also nothing more than human. We all err, some more than others, although nobody should really keep track. One of the beliefs that has made my relationship with Marco (and his with me) so strong is communication - "if it's on my mind it's out my mouth" - and many folks forget that an open dialogue is absolutely essential to your happiness. Communication is key if you truly hope for others to know how you feel and improve the situations that surround you.

As for how communication relates to my wish to be famous, I feel that the subject matter in my songs and poems would open the hearts of many people while challenging their own beliefs. While not all of my material is so thoughtful (I would refer to a good portion of it as "bubble gum" or "of no real emotional value"), much of it refers to my frustration (a feeling I believe is shared by a likely 90% or better of the world's population) with intolerance and hate that seems to be taking over the world that we live in. Simply being honest with oneself about your opinions challenges you to validate them -- if we were all completely honest with ourselves that we are all imperfect, flawed, and judgmental, perhaps this world will someday become a more peaceful and loving one.

All in all, however, it might just be that I am not destined to fame. Generally speaking though, I just don't believe that anything is predetermined. While everything is somehow interconnected -- you all know about the "9 degrees of Bacon" game about how we all kind of know Kevin Bacon in some round about way (or how ever many steps it is - I'm not sure, honestly) -- I simply can't give up my dream of someday becoming a voice for peace and hope.

I apologize for the ramble-ly-ness of this post (I'm inebriated again, imagine that).... Hopefully I will soon have an audio clip available to demonstrate my so-called talent and be able to share it with you all. I still haven't been able to recover my own writings - I think they may have gotten lost in the never-ending void of virtual memory - but I will likely be recording my own version of Etta James's "At Last" soon. It's been some time since I've actually "sang" it for recording, but I have faith that I'll figure out how to make it sound good enough.

As always, thanks for reading, and I hope you, my lovely reader, are doing well.

Drunky II

2009-11-04T19:32:00.001-05:00

Well, as I just commented on Argentum Vulgaris's blog over @ Life is Just like That..., I've been partaking in the alcohol yet again tonight. I had some interesting word verifications there: first one was "dionregix" and the second was "impsy;" had I posted a third comment, I would've needed to verify my comment with "jewbonic." Hahaha... has anyone else ever noticed some funny little word creations coming up in the verification process? I've had some rather hilarious ones at times as well as some actually related to the subject matter of the blog I was commenting on... coincidental, I'm sure. :)

What have some of your funny little word verifications been?

Today was a day full of win:
Marco changed out the spark plugs, fuel filter and hose to said filter today and now the car is running much smoother. I probably failed to mention this, but we just got the car we have about two months or so ago. It's a maroon colored '96 Nissan Altima. Our old car, a red '97 Ford Taurus, had a reoccurring leak in the gas tank, originally caused by a mishap with a parking block. At times, I do miss the "original" Betsy Red (I erroneously -- on another drunk, mind you -- told Bess of Ole' Bob n' Bess @ Plain Ole' Bob Answers that is was "Bessy" -- my bad memory!) although the Nissan is actually rather nice. She came fully equipped with a sun roof, CD/tapedeck/radio, power windows, tilt, power locks, cruise control, and kickin' mule engine -- my favorite feature is split between the sun roof and the CD player, but the fact that it doesn't leak gas is definitely awesome, too. She also came with two broken CV axles, a small hole in the transmission drip pan, and a super-leaky valve cover (the part the covers the engine and has the spark plugs atop it). Unbeknownst to us, maintenance on this car was likely spotty; the spark plugs were nearly rusted on and the fuel filter had all sorts of nasty gunk in it. Besides that, just two days after we got the car, we had to replace the driver's side turn signal because the socket was completely rusted -- it was so bad that we couldn't even remove the busted bulb from it!

So today I would like to take this opportunity to remind all my lovely readers and followers that maintenance on your car, if you expect it to get you anywhere safely and reliably, is an absolute must to keep up on. You never know when the inattention to change you spark plugs or filters will leave you with a rough idle that suddenly turns into a stall-out situation!

One small side note: I just wanted to let you all know about an awesome enrichment/contest experience to be found on The World Atlas -- They have a weekly contest for $500 and a daily contest for $100 -- just for answering trivia! Don't be too excited, however: you will really have to earn the prize by searching diligently for the correct answer, as well as quickly. Only the first correct answer will win, although they do occasionally give out consolation prizes to the best (and quickest) efforts. Marco and I have yet to win one, although I'm sure we will someday! Best of luck to all of you!

Hope all are doing well, and I'll see you again soon! <3

Pandemic!

2009-11-03T17:22:00.001-05:00

I found out about a really cool evil game yesterday browsing around on It Made My Day -- in this game, you are supposed to create, evolve, and mutate a nasty bug and infect the world with it. Haha. Pandemic II can be found and played here. Just make sure that you have any Ad Blockers you may have on your computer turned off on that page to access it otherwise it won't play. After a short ad, the game will load.

I also wanted to mention that, no, I am not ignoring comments, I just don't feel that I really absolutely must reply to every one of them if I don't really feel up to it. You wonderful folks have done a great job making sure that I feel
very loved, appreciated, and most of all accepted just for being me... and I honestly and sincerely treasure every last comment left here for me. I just haven't had the emotional energy to blog much as of late, much less comment, even on my own blogs. Occasionally, when I feel I might have something to add to the topic, I've been commenting, otherwise I just tend to keep my trap shut.

So anyways, hope all of you lovely folks are doing well -- things are chugging along as normal here. Nothing new going on, but I will of course update you if something does happen. :)

Oh... my folks are possibly coming for Thanksgiving! Yay!! I have missed them SO much since Marco and I last saw them in December during our visit to Michigan, so it'd be awesome if my mom can actually get the time off from work. I'm not too excited about them probably having to stay HERE in the trailer when they come, but I know they won't complain, which is awesome. I just hate that we don't have a bigger and/or better place to share with them, that's all. All we've got to offer is some space on the floor in the living room to put the air mattress on. But... like I said... I know they won't complain, so I guess it's all good.

If they do come, I'm also looking forward to a turkey roll, broccoli casserole, cheesecake, and stuffing. Mmm. :)

That does it!

2009-10-31T17:25:00.000-04:00

I finally broke down and bought ear plugs (or rather mom and dad did via that invaluable thing called an ATM - thanks yous guys!). I got the silicone ones that you have to shape and mold to your ear. I'm a little worried about using them too much though -- in the past, I would get outer ear infections regularly simply from sleeping on one side too many nights in a row! I'm concerned that if I wear them nightly it might be the same thing and not having insurance or even a primary care doctor... that's the last thing I need. I'm a big cry baby with ear infections - there's few things more painful to me.

At least it will be somewhat worth it as I'll finally be able to sleep peacefully without getting plowed first. I got totally polluted last night and crashed out on the couch with Marc laying on me while we were watching Final Destination 2 (good movie!). Apparently, he couldn't wake me up so he just covered me up and straightened me out a little bit instead (I was resting my head on his shoulder, which, had I stayed like that, would've crippled me by the time I woke up!). He even made sure to take off my glasses. Aww. <3 At some point, however, I must've staggered to bed because that's where I woke up... with the brown bottle flu. Today was hangover from hell day. I don't usually even get hangovers -- the trick is to stay up until you are no longer drunk, at least it is for me. It seems that if I do that, I do not get sick, period. No drag-ass, no pukies, although I still can't escape the liquor sh*ts. Ha.

OMG, I just realized that I totally neglected WTF Friday. Eek! I'll get on researching to do it next Friday instead. Sorry guys! I know a couple folks were actually looking forward to it, including myself!

Pandora's other box

2009-10-29T19:42:00.000-04:00

Just a quick post today as I don't have anything going on to talk about, nor can I really collect my thoughts enough to organize a story properly.

Instead, I thought I would share with you one of my absolute favorite sites on the internet. Many of you have probably heard of it, but there's still a few folks who have no idea about this ingenious little piece of software.

Pandora (http://www.pandora.com) is, in my humble opinion, the absolute best way to discover your favorite music. I've found so many great artists, groups, and ensembles through using it -- Just start off by searching for one of your favorite songs or artists, and you will soon be on an unforgettable and addictive journey of music discovery.

Best of all, it's completely free!

Enjoy!

Little Epiphanies

2009-10-27T20:08:00.001-04:00

Every now and then I happen to acquire little thoughts that come with better self-centering and balancing. Today, I had the opportunity to grow a little. It made me a little more peaceful, I guess. This morning while we were on our way to Denny's, Stephanie and I got some soda right before she had to be there to work. When I came home, I drank about half of it before going back to bed to sleep a little more. I never can seem to sleep eight hours in one chunk; the occasion on which I do is a rather rare occurrence. Don't get me wrong either - I can sleep like nobody's business anyway, just not all at once like that. I've always been a bit of an insomniac like that.

Anyhow, I digress.

I tucked the bottle of soda into the fridge so it'd still be cold when I got up. I'm ashamed to admit I even hid it a little so that Marc wouldn't find it and drink it.

That's exactly what happened anyways.

Oh, I was mad for a little while before I thought about it. He wouldn't have been mad at me for drinking the other half of his had he left it in the fridge. Hell, he might have even saved it for me. He's sweet like that sometimes.

I was pretty thoughtless and selfish about it this afternoon when I woke up practically drooling in anticipation of my next fizzy drink only to find that Marc drank it. Getting upset about him drinking it was petty and immature, too. Immediately, I scolded and forgave myself in one breath for having made the transgression, if even only to myself as Marc was at work and I didn't actually call him at work to bite his head off over the consumed soda, although I did think about it. Instead, after I made amends with myself, I forgot about it and eventually called to tell him we're going to be "recycling" our cans from here on out. There's a $.35/1 lb. rate on returns over 100 lbs. Not too shabby. When penny pinching and drinking as much soda as we do, it's not too much to rinse the cans out, smash 'em, and bag 'em in a bin. Why not? It won't cost us a penny to do so and we're actually getting more bang for our buck when we drink items in cans.

If only I could return glass for money around here. As much beer as I've drank in the last month, I might actually have something there worth saving up for, if you average it out over the coming months. It'd be a good idea to rinse those, too.

Bottles wouldn't be worth it even if they paid per pound. I really miss the return rate on them -- Michigan's is a cool 10¢ per bottle or can returned, regardless of weight. (Side not: irregardless is not a word. Look it up!) There wouldn't be as many cans and bottles just rotting away on the side of the road before someone will actually pick the bloody thing up.

Never mind that if we had that rate here, I really won't need to be upset anymore when Marc drinks the rest of mine if we had the same rate here. At least I'd be getting some kind of benefit from him drinking it.

Oh well... I genuinely hope he enjoyed it. I know he would've hoped the same for me, even if he was irked for a minute over it.

And that's an awesome thing.

SERIOUSLY WTF

2009-10-26T14:32:00.000-04:00

THIS IS IN ALL CAPS TO REFLECT MY SEVERE ANNOYANCE AND ANXIETY SURROUNDING THE ISSUE.

MY NOISY NEIGHBORS HAVE GOTTEN EVEN WORSE -- NOW THE ONES THAT BLASTED THE MUSIC SHOUT AND HAVE DOGS BARKING, THE ONES THAT HOLLER AND HAVE DOGS BARKING NOW HAVE LOUD MUSIC PLAYING TOO.

TODAY IS A SEVERE ANXIETY ATTACK DAY. I JUST CANNOT TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!! IF I CALL THE COPS, I FEAR ONE OR BOTH OF THE NEIGHBORS WILL DO DAMAGE TO MY VEHICLE, HOME, OR EVEN ATTACK. IF I TELL THE LANDLADY, SHE WON'T DO ANYTHING. IF I BLAST MY MUSIC, IT JUST ADDS TO MY PANIC.

I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!!!! I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ANY MORE! I GOT TWO HOURS OF SLEEP, CAN'T NAP FOR ALL THE DAMN NOISE, AND NOW I JUST CAN'T STOP CRYING THE NOISE IS SO STRESSFUL FOR ME. I HAVE DELICATE NERVES ANYWAY -- THIS ISN'T HELPING!!

Wretch and fetch

2009-10-18T14:08:00.000-04:00

I'd like to apologize to you, my readers and followers, for my absence as of late. I've not been feeling quite right for a few days and I'm also putting my nose to the grind stone to have some sober fun. I'd say it hasn't been easy to do so, but it has. Ha. It has been both fun and time consuming, so I let the blog go by the wayside for a bit.

I've also been out of things to really talk about lately as nothing new is really going on here. There's plenty of stories from the past that I could tell, but nothing that can't be told another time when I'm feeling more "with it."

All in all, I'm just trying to take it easy here and not stress myself out with non-obligations while job hunting and fulfilling what obligations I do have to take care of here. I hope everyone is doing well... and hopefully I'll be back to daily updates again soon.

In the mean time, why not check out each others' blogs? I know nearly every commenter and follower I have here has their own great blogs, and I can't tell you how many I've found just by going through their follower lists. :)

Cardinal sub-rule

2009-10-16T17:06:00.001-04:00

Don't get greedy.

Work It

2009-10-15T13:44:00.000-04:00

Well, now that the jackpot for Three-Eyed Bingo has finally bust -- and not on me -- I can blog without feeling as though I'm going to miss something. Never mind that I totally took a nap and someone won literally minutes after that. Oh well.

So I went to see my friend and adviser the other day to get some advice about those pesky job applications that I am now starting to fill out again. See, one of my biggest problems while filling out an application is what to write in the space marked "reason for leaving." I absolutely hate to lie or even mislead, especially when it says that doing so on an application will likely lead to termination... but I can't tell them the actual truth about how I've ended up leaving my past jobs; to do so would be like saying, "Hey, I just wasted your time and mine by filling out this application, but just laugh hysterically as you chuck it out and you'll feel better about it."

So what do you say when the situation is just as bad as it sounds?

"Walking off the job" is no longer simply quitting without notice. In fact, don't even mention the without notice part. It can now be referred to as:

a bad fit (good for any occasion)
personal growth (especially good if you are unemployed for some time after)
career advancement (to be used if moving to another job without a break and will be making more, even if it's just a penny more)
health reasons (mental health totally counts)

Getting fired is slightly trickier, but not insurmountable... and it makes me smile with glee to not have to mention it. All of the above reasons can apply, as well as one more:

personality conflict (it sounds bad to me, but apparently doesn't to prospective employers)

I also learned yesterday that one shouldn't be overly vague with their interpersonal skills. "Great customer service" can be interpreted to mean "goes above and beyond for customer satisfaction" or it could mean "will break the rules just to keep customer happy" -- I'd go with the first definition.

I don't know who's been paying attention and who hasn't, but this is definitely need-to-know information for me seeing as I've been fired from or walked off of every last job I've ever had. The only one that I walked away from on good terms was the last job I held in Michigan before moving here!

What other job-related euphemisms are y'all aware of? Does anyone out there have any tips for others and myself on how to ace an interview?

Don't Jump

2009-10-13T01:38:00.000-04:00

I was woken up at midnight with a text in reply to my "Don't hate yourself or me. Just know that I hope to see you on October 12, 2010"....

I never thought the lyrics for Third Eye Blind's "Jumper" would be my background music and fit.

DONE

2009-10-12T17:32:00.002-04:00

I saw this today as I was dropping Steph and the girls off at her house. Just a few houses away, there is fail in full force. It made my day (keyword henceforth: IMMD). :)

On a serious note, I have decided to, for the time being, cut ties with the person that inspired "I'm Going Home." Because there are not going to be any names mentioned, I feel that I can tell you the story and not feel as though I've sold anyone out. Be warned: this tale contains drug references, homosexual references, and a peeved Jenno.

It's difficult to tell this story in chronological order, so I'll do my best, but know right off that it's not on a time line. The fact that I was drunk and stoned doesn't help.

The other night, I had a great time hanging out with a friend of mine that is, in many ways, a lot like myself. She is fun, caring, bright, energetic, and imperfect. We had some drinks together, played with her new Wii, and straightened out our curly, frizzled hair. Marco even stayed and played the Wii with us after he got off work, even though the plan was to just bring me home. Eventually, it was decided that Marco and I would just crash there as we were having too much fun.

Shortly before Marco went to try to sleep, my friend revealed to me that she has had feelings for me almost since we met over a year ago, but that the circumstances before I walked away from our friendship the first time made it impossible to tell me as much. Surprised, I didn't quite know what to say, especially considering that I'm unsure how I feel about having a relationship outside of the one I have with Marco. Truth be told, yes, I am bisexual and yes, Marco is okay with me seeing other women without having to share with him (which is good because I don't want to share him). Although I've been seeking a girlfriend for quite some time now, albeit rather inactively (I don't make the first move, so to speak, nor do I actively search for a female mate), my feelings about it have been slowly shifting towards monogamy for the past six-to-eight months or so.

So after Marco went to bed, we sat up talking about this new revelation and the barriers it faced: her controlling, abusive, and ill (both physically and mentally, if you ask me) ex-husband, the amount of time that her kids (who are actually the one argument I have for having children of my own, that they could turn out like them) are home and present... but most important to me was the drug use. Now, pot isn't really a concern to me (although I've quit smoking it since this happened); my big issue is her use of crack cocaine. Eventually, the conversation shifted to her guilt over her mistakes and how she wants to be a better person. She confessed to me that she punished her youngest, age four, so severely that it left bruises all over her neck, face, and arms, and that she, if only for a fleeting moment, had kind of wanted to kill her. What exactly was done to provoke such rage, I still don't know, but my friend was absolutely torn up over it. She sobbed, with what I thought was true regret, about how she was a bad person. I tried to comfort her and reassure her that she, herself, is not a bad person. She has just made mistakes. Some small, some big, and some very dangerous mistakes, but mistakes nonetheless. I honestly don't believe that she is a bad person; she has just made some grievous errors in judgment.

For a couple hours, until about two or three in the morning, I consoled her. She cried on me about how she wants to be a better person (she is even entertaining the idea of becoming Amish for a while to get away) and stop making stupid mistakes that just sabotage her. I agreed and swore that I would help as much as I could as long as she made up her mind to make an honest effort to change and be the better person she says she so desperately wants to be. Marco ended up leaving around three or so himself, and I asked him if he wanted me to come along with him. He said it was up to me, and even though my gut told me that it was actually time to go home, I stayed anyway because I did not want to leave my friend alone while she was vulnerable against herself and just plain upset.

Not five minutes after Marco left for home, she was on the phone. I asked who it was, to which she replied, "nobody." She asked them if they could come over, then talked for about a minute longer before hanging up. I asked, "what is up with that? You say you're enjoying my company and that you're glad I'm here, but it isn't good enough?"

She replied, "oh, they were sleeping. They're not coming over."

I said, "oh, okay, that's good. I like having you to myself, after all," and smiled.

She sat back down beside me and we talked some more for about ten minutes... until someone knocked on the door. As soon as she opened it, I was seeing red.

It was her crack dealer.

She went back into the bedroom with him and closed the door after telling me it was my turn to put some music on. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, although it was silly to even entertain the idea of having him there at four in the morning without the pretense of a transaction, I sat down at the computer and let the song she played last finish. After it was done, I did a search for Muse's "Uprising" but did not hit the play button right away. I couldn't hear anything for a moment, but then I hear the flick of a lighter followed by a short silence, then, "oh, that is good. That is really good."

Uhhh, not good, I thought to myself.

I pressed the play button, turned it up a little, and my wheels started turning. At this point, I don't feel the slightest bit drunk, even though I've had a pint of whiskey and three beers. I was officially pissed off. Not at her, although it was my first reaction to be angry with her. I was pissed off with her decision, not her. After all that time crying to me about how she thinks she's a f*ck up and a bad person, she goes and does this?

Oh, hells nah. Jenno don't play that game no more.

In that moment, I decided that I would no longer sabotage myself. I would no longer smoke pot, I would no longer let my curiosity get the better of myself, and I would no longer stand by and watch the people I care about destroy themselves. I would still care about them and their problems and I would absolutely still do all I can to be an inspiration, but I will not be a spectator at the funerals of my friends. Most of all, I decided that I will no longer be a hypocritical preacher, meaning that I am DONE with drugs, self-sabotage, saying "yes" to try to please everyone, and most of all, being a f*ck up.

When she came out, I told her that it was time for me to go. She asked if I was mad at her, and I explained that while I was not mad at her, I was upset with her, further explaining that the decisions to lie to me and buy/smoke crack were my issues. She seemed to understand that, although it's impossible to tell if she really did or just said she did because she was now cracked out.

Instantly the other version of herself again. The jumpy version. The over-active version. The unconcerned, irresponsible, and careless version. Not my version, not my friend.

I walked my fat, drunken, pissed off ass home at 4:30 in the morning. I was just glad that it wasn't raining, even if it was 30 degrees and I stood a fair chance of being stopped by the police or being attacked by some strung-out dope friend for their chance to get a few bucks.... so I wrapped myself up tight in the hoodie that my friend had just given me that night (although it was stolen from a chick that she didn't like), wore my purse inside the jacket, and made myself look as big and bad as possible. I gave myself a quick internal pep talk (at least it's not raining!) and started hoofin' the mile home.

As I was walking, I noticed that that grass was clearly impressed upon all the way down the road, evidence that I was neither the first to make this walk nor the last. It really got me thinking about what f*cked up circumstances may have set them running this route, and I concluded for the second time that I would no longer sit and mope when bad luck or depression strikes; sometimes a set back is needed to make real progress.

I also resolved to cherish my life and remember my blessings. Losing sight of just how good I have it and just how good I really am and want to be... I believe those are the reasons I have been depressed for so long. No more. I'm done. My life is far from over and I can't help everyone (a fact that I will always regret is so very true), so I had better get off my sorry ass and help myself before it's too late to help anyone.

Today I wrote her a letter to explain to her that I can no longer be in her life as long as she is still making the decisions that will destroy her because I care too much to watch her destroy herself. I also explained that I am completely done with irresponsible choices and now committed to getting clean for good, getting a job, and living my life for me and my own happiness. After she is clean for a year, however, I will welcome her back into my life with open arms, and that I also wrote down to her. While I very much want to be her friend and be there for her, I cannot, for the sake of my own sanity, happiness, and strength, stick around while she is recovering. I have my own recovering to do and I would absolutely hate to make a stupid mistake that may somehow inspire her own.

The most difficult part of it is that we just reconnected not even a month ago, and I truly did miss her friendship. I didn't miss the crazy drama that came along, but that drama was caused by all those other influences. I hate that the best thing for me to do in this situation is cut her and her girls -- who quite obviously, generously, and genuinely adore me -- out of my life a second time.

She told me that the first time I walked away from our friendship, it broke the heart of both her and her wonderful children.

This time, it is I who is broken hearted.

If there were any other smart way to help her, I would jump at the chance.

I'm Going Home

2009-10-11T04:08:00.002-04:00

I was just a party to some kind of messed up experience.... Not really messed up, nothing super-major. But messed up nonetheless.

So, of course, me being as pissed off and determined to not watch another freaking train wreck... and being drunk along with the inspiration of this song (no, not Marco. He doesn't even drink.)...

I really just need to talk about it to get some perspective on what in the world I'm supposed to do. The thing about that is that it's really some really deep crap if you're not used to the rough and rumble way of getting on. So, not being able to talk about it....

Naturally, I wrote a song about it.

Haha... gettin' back to my roots. Here it is. I'm going to eventually try to throw a beat down on it, but only if it's receives a decent "response." Let's face it -- there's a point where "personal satisfaction" isn't quite worth the effort. I mean, yeah, I like it, but I'm not like, totally gung ho about it.

Anyway.... here. It is what it is. "Love it or leave it"... goes with the theme, too.

I'm Going Home

Don't go thinking for a second
that I never cared
If I really didn't,
I wouldn't have been there
To tell you when the world
was about to collapse again
That there were people who
would honestly be a friend

Maybe you're not used to this,
I know I'm really nice
But give it a minute and I'll show you
my torture device
I can make you twist and turn
with nothing but my words
But I don't wanna have to scream to say
your shit is for the birds

If you're gonna act like you don't need me
but say you want me to stay
Don't complain when I decide to leave
it's my right to walk away
Your choices are yours
and yours alone
Either make up my mind for me
or I'm going home.

You tell me that you want to change
for better, not for worse
I just didn't know you'd had
so much time to rehearse
Those lines you read for me
were nothing short of magnificent
I saw right through them just as soon
as they left your lips

How can you say what you don't want
when you don't know what really is
Don't you understand that today
might be your last chance?

If you're going to act like you don't need me
but say you want me to stay
Don't complain when I decide to leave
it's my right to walk away
Your choices are yours
and yours alone
I've already made up my mind
and I'm going home

Thanks for blowing my mind
I'm going home

Mini-award time!

2009-10-09T05:42:00.000-04:00

To JW for figuring out the last recipe posted as being Sloppy Joes....

Yes, it's totally a little sloppy drawing of sloppy joe on a pedestal! Enjoy! :D

drunky

2009-10-08T18:52:00.000-04:00

If solo drinking makes one an alcoholic, I'm well on my way.

Pretty much the only way I ever drink any more is by myself... more because all my friends here have kids and don't go anywhere than the fact that I don't go much of anywhere.

So tonight I'm sitting here drinking whiskey and Rolling Rock. Woo. Go me. It's not like there's really much of anything else to be doing today. It's been piss-pouring all day long, it's getting cold outside finally....

Which reminds me, I meant to mention something about the concept of hot and cold the other day here. Is it just me, or does living in one climate for an extended period of time make you more... "attuned" to that climate? For example, it may be all of 52 degrees here today, but I am freezing my tooshie off! When I was living in Michigan, however, 52 was T-shirt weather. Hell, I'd still wear my flip-flops for half the winter there. Here in Indiana, though, 52 feels really freaking cold. I've got a sweater, t-shirt, yoga pants, and jeans on... and fleece booties (complete with the little gripper doodads on the bottom (side note: doodads is an actual word, according to FireFox spellchecker.)).

Keep in mind that I still truly believe that socks are evil.

I will not deny that they are dead useful. That is a fact. I still believe them to be evil.

I don't know... today has just been a weird day. I don't know how to feel about it. I'm so used to feeling one way or another about... well, everything. Today is the day I make my best straight, stoic face and say, "it's just another day."

I hope tomorrow actually has something interesting and exciting in store for me... although I know the chances of that are quite slim. It's about time I go out and figure out my own future.

If only I could stop being scared long enough to come to terms with the world around me.

Grr.

2009-10-08T08:18:00.000-04:00

I'm feeling uninspired and untalented today.

I can't draw anything to save my life.

I seriously wish some of that artistic talent that my sister got from my dad would've rubbed off on me today. I could probably sing really good today, on the other hand. That's usually how it goes: if one talent is seriously lacking, the other improves greatly. Generally speaking, that only happens when my visual art suffers. Figures.

I wish that I could think of some better things to try and draw than people or oven mitts or Halloween pumpkins. There's several things in my mind, but I can't draw them. It's very very frustrating to have a clear picture in mind that you can't put to paper. I hate it.

It's the closest to torture as I'll likely get any time soon. Thankfully, it's not painful.

Just really really annoying.

Guess the recipe - There's a trophy involved!

2009-10-07T21:13:00.000-04:00

Try this out. Anyone care to guess what it is?

3 lbs. lean ground beef
1 extra large onion (I prefer Vidalias), minced, preferably chopped into fine paste
3/4 tsp steak seasoning of your choice (I prefer Grill Master's Montreal Steak)
1/4 tsp salt (sea salt is best!)

Brown beef together over low-med heat in skillet of your choice with above ingredients. Smash it into little tiny bits until it's all broken down... and browned. Simmer over low heat.

between 1 and 3/4 cups - 2 and 1/4 cups ketchup (depends on how wet you want them to be, how ketchupy)
between 2 tbs. and 1/4 cup yellow mustard (depends how sour you want them to be)
1/2 tsp vinegar (yes vinegar! preferably white) - (depends how tart you want them to be)
1 tbs brown sugar (just add this amount and trust.)

Mix together until well-blended and heated well. If it starts bubbling, it's definitely done, so turn it off, slap some on a bun and eat it. It's good. :)

Lorenzo has a friend!

2009-10-06T17:37:00.000-04:00

This is Roy. He wanted to come keep Lorenzo company for a while. :)

(I have a very strange habit of naming *everything.* Marco does the same except it's simply "her" or "him." I give things actual names and stories.)

By the way, Lorenzo said thanks for talking to him while I'm away. He enjoys every odd little word you whisper to him. (He said it, not me.)

Requisites for Acceptance

2009-10-06T12:08:00.012-04:00

...of an award!

I don't know how it happened, but even though I've been blogging for just over three weeks now, the awards to my blog have already started piling in.

I've received another that not only requires me to accept it, but also to thank JW over at Your Topic Here, so big thanks to JW. The best award for me is still getting feedback on what I have to say and just being read, but this is cool too. :)

Also required of me in accordance to the rules of accepting the Kreativ Blogger award is that I share seven facts about myself that people may not have known about me.

I smoke nearly a pack of cigarettes a day, sometimes more. My preferred brand is Marlboro Menthol, any sub-style except ultra lights (just like with beer, it's a waste).
I was engaged once before I was ever with Marco -- I knew it was over when I was trying to justify settling into a loveless marriage with him. After the fact, I realized that I never loved him, he was just my "yes" man (there is totally such a thing as being TOO nice, guys).
I refuse to eat olives under any circumstances... except not knowing they're there.
I almost overdosed on Robitussin when I was 20 (I think? Not sure). They thought I was trying to kill myself, and for once I actually wasn't.
To quote Jeff Foxworthy, "my mama was great, my daddy was great, I'm just a sh*thead." (To explain my teenage years)
I have a tendency to suffer from addictions: gambling, alcohol, marijuana, cigarettes, theft, shopping... these have all posed problems for me in the past. It's another side-symptom of the Borderline Personality.
I only wear covered-toe shoes when the chance of getting snow on my feet is highly likely, although I will still wear them now and then when there is snow on the ground, like if it's packed down and hasn't snowed in a couple days. That's a side-effect of hating socks.

And now, to fulfill the final requirement of the acceptance of this award, I need to pass it on.

To The Musings of Ug -- musings on life's issues through the eyes of a beloved teddy bear. I have come to love this blog and the way its writer carefully crafts every message about getting by as you get older.

To Reality Checks and Balances -- Just as the description says, A daily dosage of questioning the rules as we know them, a look at cliches and some lists.

And thirdly, but not lastly (I just like threes, nice round amount in my book)...

To Mike over at Stories of an Innocent Owner of Mad Cats -- Hilarity and reading this blog go hand in hand -- his kittehs are always up to some shenanigans!

Again, thanks to JW for passing this award on to me.

The second award I've received for this posting is the One Lovely Blog award from Lady Truth over at Happily AFTER Ever. It doesn't say anything about passing it on, but I will anyways since it was so generously passed onto me. :)

For wit and wisdom, Charlene's The Balance Beam gets this award. Always an insightful tidbit to be found there.

For handling life's ups and downs gracefully, this one goes to Lily over at Unconditional Honesty.

Lucia over at The True Babblings of a Military Wife... gets this award for her brutal honesty and insights into her life.

I'm glad to have made so many fast friends here in the blogging world, and I'm ever so happy that my blog is not only enjoyed but also a shared experience. Thanks for coming along for the ride, y'all.

Waiting is hard to do.

2009-10-05T14:06:00.002-04:00

Simply awaiting a verdict in Marco's hearing today with his debtors. I don't have much to say, so here's a chicken with a flamethrower.

UPDATE: They're likely going to go ahead with garnishment of his wages, although it won't be much every month. It'll be a while before we know anything else.

The Punch Line

2009-10-04T14:24:00.000-04:00

So this week has been a rough one.

I'm feeling very anxious with all the noise in the neighborhood still, although it's been a little quieter than usual over the last couple days now. Odd.

Marco's got court tomorrow afternoon over a couple thousand dollars of debt that he got stuck with. I'm hoping it goes well, although it likely won't. If it doesn't, at least we know that his ex-wife can help pay for it now -- after all, she did a lot of the shopping with the accrued debt in question.

I wish now, more than ever, that I could collect myself and keep it "together" enough to be able to work again, doing whatever I needed to do. Unfortunately, I just don't think I'd be able to. I lose my cool over the most idiotic of things, before I even realize what's happening many times. I wish it wasn't true, but it is. I blow everything out of proportion and over-analyze it and freak out over details, mere minutiae. This is a key problem associated with my borderline personality. I can't really explain it all that well other than to say that if something happens or is said to trigger a response in me, more often than not, I'm reacting to it before I have a moment to think about what just happened.

I frequently say that "other people just don't know how to act." The same can be said of myself, only I don't know how to react.

After all, I'm usually too paralyzed by fear to actually do something first. Heaven forbid someone think I'm a freak or ugly or stupid.

My thing is just that it seems that stupidity and ignorance and general ass-hattery is all too common. Why are there so many warning labels on packaging? Do we really need to tell people that it's not a good idea to let their kids play with plastic bags? Why are there noise ordinance laws in the first place? How did the world get to the point where we, who have our own country practically wired to blow with our weapons production and consumption, can point the finger at countries that do the same and say, "we don't feel safe with you having any fire power"?

Personally, I think I just got jaded somewhere along the line. I think my parents did right raising me the way they did: to be considerate towards others, always say please and thank you, and help out when I can. Don't most folks try to raise their kids that way? So what happened along the lines to make it so that more often than not, one is confronted with jerks? I don't really know, and in my search for the answer to that, I opened up a much larger can of worms than the fish I was trying to catch had an appetite for.

Now I'm left feeling more confused than refreshed, more tired than before. I'm not sure if it's the stress or the fibromyalgia anymore that is making everything so sore. Literally my entire body just aches.

I'm driving myself insane and I don't know how to get out of it. There's no doubt about it that I need help, but how to get it is a huge problem. With the diagnosis of borderline personality, there's a scant few therapists that would even be willing to refer my case, much less actually take it. Add to that our financial problems and multiply by lack of transportation (our car has problems, just like the old one, only it can actually go places.... just not out of town). I would apply for health care through the state but they still want you to pay for it -- realistically, it's just not worth it. It doesn't cover enough to warrant paying as much as it would cost.

The biggest problem, however, is still myself, as always. I am always in my own way, whether it's through bad decisions or bad reactions to situations. No matter what I do, something will go wrong, that is guaranteed.

A couple months ago, my mom was going to send my medical papers and whatnot to me so that I could begin the process of applying for disability. I don't know what happened to that plan, although I still believe that that would be my best bet, at least for the time being. Ideally, I'd like to use it to go back to school and find a field of study that would both interest me and be a viable career option. I don't want to work in restaurants all my life. I don't want to take secretarial work. I don't want to be a check out girl, either. I don't even want glitz and glamour (although I wouldn't complain, that's for sure!); I just want to find something fulfilling and meaningful that I can help support the household with.

At any rate, my point at the end of this ramble is that it really doesn't matter. That's why I never wanted this to be a personal blog -- because it doesn't really matter whether I'm happy or depressed. It doesn't matter if I wake up aching every day. It doesn't matter if I lose my head over the very thought of losing any one of the people that I love. Inevitably, all these things will have come to pass... all these things and so many more, and there isn't a damn thing I or anyone else can do to stop that. The world will go on spinning whether I'm here for the ride or not. Which begs from me my ultimate question -- what is the reason for me hanging on for this long when I should've just let go? I'm not talking about all the people I love and who care about me. That goes without saying, at least it does for me. What other, larger reason do I have to be here? I don't see a reason, in all honesty, and have grown accustomed to believing that it's all just a big joke... and I'm just the punch line.

Hiiiii-yah!

2009-10-02T11:38:00.001-04:00

Day of rest is going well. Here's an old photo of me complete with old-lady-ish neck and Marc playing with one of our "creations" to make you LOL.

Taking a day or two off

2009-10-01T20:42:00.001-04:00

My anxiety is at a peak, as is my depression and negative outlook. I need some time to clear my head and try to calm myself down for a day or two. Between the various aches of the last week or so and the incessant noise from the neighbors together with the ever-present stress of being unemployable, I can feel that something is about to go horribly wrong in my head to throw me under my own train again... and I must do whatever I can to stop this. It is a very unfortunate and trying complication with my Borderline Personality Disorder.

This is actually a fairly regular occurrence for me, unfortunately. I will explain more about it sometime in the next week, likely in my next posting. Until then, just know that I will get through this, and yes, I will be back. Everything will eventually be okay again.

I will be back to blogging with continued daily updates beginning again on Saturday or Sunday.

I Hate My 'Hood.

2009-10-01T17:44:00.002-04:00

Feeling like crap still, but I am going up the walls with all the neighborhood noise.

On one side, I have screaming, pounding, people always going in and out yelling at one another or just sitting out there talking (and the "lady" of the house recently told her son not to help Stephanie move unless I wasn't there -- over what I don't know)....

On the other side, I have a loud stereo and TV, two extra cars parked outside (I'm fairly sure they're not on the lease), and daily fights and more pounding of things....

I've done my best to be a considerate and non-intrusive neighbor. I don't go asking the neighbors for anything ever. The ones with the frequent yelling outside have come over on numerous occasions to ask for things... like milk, eggs, sugar, butter... I even let them have the tomato parts of spaghetti sauce to make it one time, along with my food processor to cut the stewed tomatoes. The general traffic from over there has stopped for some reason I've long since forgotten (in other words, it wasn't much of a reason), although I know I "did" something to piss her off. Honestly, I didn't do anything except be friendly when I saw them, keep out of their business, and ask her kids to quiet down when they were out in the backyard being extremely noisy while I was trying to sleep. It was the "lady" who volunteered the information that she had a boyfriend back in her home state, has been on Springer (I wish I could find the clip!), and that she came to listen one night when her daughter said she heard... well... me and Marco, if you know what I mean.

Nevermind the time that I gave her a ride 45 minutes away to go get her husband from his job one evening. I never did thank her for making my car smell like wet dog (they have four or five, if I remember right). Maybe that is why she doesn't like me anymore?

Even after I finally refused to open the door for her son (who has said he's going to shoot or stab people, and then talks about it in moderate detail, and thinks it's funny, even after I said it's totally not cool to talk like that around me, period), he still came over asking for all manner of things. I finally got fed up with it and put up a sign.

That stuff in red was added when someone just couldn't take the hint. Amazingly, even the addition of that line did not hinder their efforts any! WTF?!

Today, just like any other day, I'm realizing all over again that I just do not belong here, in this particular trailer park. I am not trailer trash on the level that my neighbors are. They make it look like it's a sport.

Say whatever nasty, mean things you like about me... the bottom line is this: I don't do that whole "what's mine is yours" thing with neighbors. We struggle enough as it is without giving all our things away to charity. Even while I was working, it was still a struggle, albeit less of one. I'm generous and giving -- just ask any of my friends. If I have it to give, I will give it. It's when someone is here every day asking for something that I start to get miffed.

Add to this the regular presence of noise -- loud music, yelling (which has always stressed me out majorly), late-night outside "parties".... It's not only trashy behavior, it's just plain rude and inconsiderate to those that live near you.

Gamer Break

2009-10-01T13:39:00.001-04:00

I'm totally not feeling it today. Not feeling like being awake, not feeling like eating, not feeling like saying a bloody word. And yet, here I sit, typing away. Hmmph.

I woke up with a massive migraine this morning while Marco was fast asleep on the couch so he wouldn't wake me when he came to bed. If I've not been getting good sleep, he'll take up the sofa instead. Last night, however, he would've been more than welcome in bed with me; I was up about every hour, tossing and turning, and taking a while to fall back to sleep every time.

Stephanie ended up not going to work today; her daughter has strep throat, for which she had to go to ER because her regular doctor couldn't get her in to see them. We went and did our grocery shopping, after which I came back home, cuddled Marco for a little while, and went back to sleep. Now Marco's at work, I'm home alone, still have a headache, and now I feel urpy to boot.

Besides all that, I've been having an extended flare-up in my fibromyalgia. It's been a week and a half since it started and it's getting worse all the time. It seems like no matter what I do -- heat, ice, tylenol, ibuprofen, rest, exercise, anything! -- it just feels worse. I wish there was some way to turn those nerves off. I cannot stand that burning and tearing sensation in my shoulders, neck, and upper back. It's the worst, especially with a migraine to top it off.

So I think I'm going to just lay low and play some video games today. Marco's friend let us borrow this awesome game for PlayStation 2 called Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner 2: Raidou Kuzunoha vs. King Abaddon (link goes to gamespot.com page). It's a role-playing game with real-time fights (somewhat like in Final Fantasy X-2, although I didn't care for that one), demons that you control, and plenty of puzzles, mysteries, and unsolved cases to decipher. I've got about 70 hours logged on my current game at level 69 so far. I've got at least another 20 hours to go before I beat it, but that's mostly because I spend quite a bit of time leveling up before big fights and fusing my demons. That's the other fun part -- you get to fuse your demons when they've outgrown their usefulness to make stronger ones. The visuals in the game are also fantastic. The only drawback, in my opinion, is that some of the street-level screens are difficult to navigate, but nothing insurmountable in the slightest. Best of all, I've only had to consult a walk-thru once for this game, which is unusual for me.

Anyway, enough out of me for today. Hope everyone is well, and I'll (hopefully) be back in full working order tomorrow. As always, thanks for reading and thanks for all the feedback and comments! It totally makes my day to know that y'all enjoy my blog!

'Til tomorrow,
Jennnno

That's not my bag, baby!

2009-09-30T07:47:00.005-04:00

Well, my computer is kind of on the lam at the moment; it fell off the table one night at about two in the morning (it scared the bejeezus out of Marco) while I was commenting over at Charlene's blog -- The Balance Beam (please forgive me if the tag isn't quite right - on Marco's computer and don't have it in front of me) and hasn't been quite right ever since. The second master drive is said to have imminent fail written all over it. It's not too bad though as that particular drive is just a filler drive that I was using for memory. Now it's just a simple matter of reallocating the memory to the main hard drive again, transferring the files from the failing volume over to my primary drive, and setting the secondary slave back up as the primary's slave again. Thank god it was normal to tinker with crap in my house growing up, that's all I've got to say.

So anyways, for today I thought perhaps I would present to you all a list of why I decided having kids was not for me. It should be both entertaining and revealing.

I always joke that I have 500 (quite arbitrary number, mind you) reasons for not wanting mini-Jennos-and-Marcos running around.... It's not that we don't like kids, they're just totally not for us. I guess it's as good a time as any to put a more accurate number on it.

No more walking around naked, unless we want the offspring to be nudists... which we don't.
No more staying up as late as we please.
No more going out whenever.
Think we have a hard time keeping the house clean now?? HA!
I don't do doody diapers.
Or vomit.
Or spit up.
Just giving up smoking for 9 whole months? Ludicrous!
The last thing I want to hear every night is "I'm bored"
I've already joked about changing my name a million times, I don't need another reason to want to change it even more.
Nevermind the identity crisis I obviously still face. Like that would fix it.
There's a good chance any children with either mine or Marco's genes would be psychologically unsound, even before we got in their head.
Kids generally don't like me. They never have. I'm okay with this.
I don't generally like them either. Half the kids I've met could've used a good whooping.
On that note, the attitude, fights, and little insignificant things made into a big deal? Yeah... no. I do that enough on my own.
No more "getting it on" whenever.
No more violent video games.
No more having as much of my food to myself as I really want.
Alone time is hard enough to come by sometimes....
I fear that I would seriously screw a child up. Sometimes all it takes is one wrong move, and I know I make plenty.
There's enough kids in the world that don't have loving homes that I would feel guilty every time I looked at my kid.
We're still kind of kids ourselves -- still trying to find our place in the world and settle into a more comfortable life. IF we ever changed our mind (and there's a lot of ifs in this sentence), it wouldn't be until all the issues were resolved or dissolved. I was fortunate to have a comfortable upbringing; that's another thing too many kids go through is a lack of such.

I can't think of much more than that right now. It's a little early for my thinker to be tickled too rough anyway. If I come up with more, I'll add 'em as another post with a linkback.

Wal-Mart FTL (for the loss)

2009-09-29T14:03:00.000-04:00

Yesterday evening, I set about my errand of returning our rentals to the RedBox. For those not in the know, the RedBox is a DVD rental service that uses the technology of a touch screen, a pop machine, and a video store clerk all at once to bring you new and old releases alike for only a dollar per rental, per night (tax not included). The first time I had used this RedBox was to rent these movies, although I'd accompanied my friend Stephanie to perform this same task on numerous occasions; it'd be no sweat.

Well, renting the movies wasn't a problem at all. It was a breeze, as usual. The problem was returning them, although it would have been obscenely simple had there not been an impostor BlueBox that took the place of the one that was just a RedBox the night before.

Those bastards at Wal-Mart, like thieves in the night, not only switched out the machine for an impostor, but they also stole a little gas from my gas tank, about ten minutes of talk time on my cell phone, AND all my patience for how they, as a company, are rather inconsiderate towards their loyal shoppers... all in one fell swoop. There was no note left on the RedBox when I had rented the movies to say that they were about to switch it out, nor did any of their employees really care that I had an issue because of a greedy move on their employer's part. Maybe it wasn't so much that they didn't care; perhaps they're just as ticked off about the shenanigans of Wal-Mart and their quest for power and control as I am (they do seem to have a great deal of America by the cajones, after all). All the same, nobody bloody well knew what to do with my movies except to call the number on the case as they "have nothing to do with us." Well, fine then. I hate dealing with (a good portion of) the Wal-Martians most of the time anyway.

So I go outside and call the number on the back of the case. I am connected with a super-sunshiny voice belonging to a woman named Colleen. Now, this is a rather unusual experience for me -- I used to work in customer service, though not at a call center, and know that a lot of folks hate hate loathe working in that sector, and you can just hear that great disdain in many calls. Not so with Colleen; she seemed to be truly concerned with my satisfaction as well as making sure that we could work out a way to get these movies returned.

After I explained to her about the impostor box's presence, she began to look for another box in Vincennes... presto!

"Well, there's another at the Walgreens at College and Sixth... can you make it there to return them?"

"Oh, is there? I didn't know that! Yeah, that's totally doable. Thank you so much!"

So I head across town to return the DVD's at Walgreens. I get there and walk in, becoming more and more confused as I scour the store for any sign of a RedBox. There wasn't one afterall, much less much of anything red at all!

"Ooookayyy... well then. ...Guess I'll have to call them again," I sighed.

So I dial in the number a second time and right as my finger is hovering over the "send" button, my phone rings. Startled for a moment, I answer it tentatively.

"Hello?"
"Hello?"

Sounds a little like an echo for a moment, but then I hear again, "Helloo?"

"Oh! Hello! Did you just call me back?!?" It was Colleen again.

"Yes, I did... I am sooo sorry! I made a mistake and didn't realize that there are no movies showing in the RedBox location at Walgreens, which means it's not online yet."

"Yeah, I was just about to call y'all back to let you know there isn't one here... yet."

"Yes, I was confused for a moment too, but as soon as I realized my error, I said, 'oh no, I'd better call her back!'"

"I really appreciate that, Colleen. So what do we do now?"

So we discuss the options, of which there was to go to Lawrenceville about 15 miles away to return them at another RedBox location -- not much of an option with two broken CV axles and crappy roads due to construction in Illinois, nevermind the chance that the Wal-Mart that it was at had replaced it also. The other option was to mail them in. A-ha. Sounds good to me.

So Colleen got clearance from her supervisor to do an exception return, which basically means that I won't be charged for more than the one night's rental for the movies, even though they hadn't actually been returned yet, then as soon as they get to their home office, they'll be officially returned into the system.

On top of that, she also got me hooked up with two free one night rentals of any available titles via use of promo codes. Awesome. Now I'm really not upset about it.

For a second, I was upset about the situation and was ready to spit fire. How can they just take away the RedBox and not leave any notice? Had it not been for Colleen and her sunny disposition, I may have very well jumped down a throat or two before the issue was resolved... although I actually think that they may be treating their employees right, and that may have been part of the reason why she was able to keep me calm and happy.

At any rate, go Colleen (I hope they give you the raise that my letter in the box with the movies asks them to give you!), RedBox is still the bomb (seriously, not having the deal with people just to rent a movie? Awesomeness), and Wal-Mart (and their impostor BlueBox) sucks even more.

Epic Fail

2009-09-28T13:36:00.000-04:00

About seven years ago, I still believed that everything in life would just automatically fall into place if I was in the right place at the right time. I enrolled in college to study cosmetology, although I dropped out of the program on the second day of classes (it was entirely too superficial an environment for me to stand). Once finally getting settled in there, however, I ended up in the general education program (as in "undeclared" or as they like to call them, "future dropouts" -- I wish I hadn't scoffed at the second one). I was given one class that I really hated (Greeks and the Bible) and another that I couldn't keep up with (English Composition, 101 with a teacher's assistant, no less), and another that I actually enjoyed (Sociology 101). I didn't quite get it still that there was really some hard work, perseverance, and a lot less alcohol involved in success.

My first room mate's name was Emily Ouvre (have you noticed I have a habit of outing the no-so-innocent?) -- I hated her guts, and she apparently returned the sentiment. Nevermind that I didn't hate her first -- the moment I got there I was greeted with, "I don't like you because you're in my personal space and I will have this room to myself - you'll see." Well, I freaking never! I thought. As the semester got on, she pulled out every stop in driving me out. She had her friends over late while I was trying to sleep, she locked me out of the room all night while she was entertaining her (douche) boyfriend, she had her friends threaten me.... The last straw was when she tied up little plastic sharks and fish all over the room and little pieces of construction paper with "fish killer" written on them after the Betta fish I had "died." (He didn't actually die -- he was just depressed. He moved to my mom and dad's house and lived on for about 7 months before actually going to sleep with the fishes.) This chick pulled out all the stops to get me to leave, and it worked; you'd have to be crazy to want to live with someone like that anyway. I "put up" with her crap for about two months before I got out of there. As much as I brought it up with my RA, they didn't do anything about it, so I instead went to the director of housing and found an empty room in another hall across campus. The only problem was that I needed a room mate to move in to an empty room.

I enlisted to help of a girl down the hall who I was kind of friends with, and we moved into the empty room. She ended up leaving on Halloween, the same night that I had my new boyfriend Kip over. It wasn't that I didn't care she was leaving (although I was excited that I would finally get a room to myself now), I was just excited to finally have another boyfriend. Ha. A few years after we had been room mates, I moved down to Saginaw to live with her for a while so I could try to get out on my own (another bad idea that didn't work out, another story).

There were a lot of crazy times in the short time I was in college. I remember one time that Lisa (the second room mate) and I went to find this house party, ended up a good mile or so away, and then had to walk back up the hill before we FINALLY found the place. It was snowing hard, with about two and a half feet on the ground. After we got good and drunk on some keg beer at this "party" (there were the three guys that lived there and us -- that's it! HA!), we started on our way home. Lisa got sick and decided to try to sleep it off in the snow; I dragged her butt back to the dorms. What a way to kill a buzz, lemme tell you.

Even after she had left, though, I still partied with others in the hall, drinking and smoking. That's what my days and nights consisted of. It's not really any wonder why I flunked out of school; I didn't apply myself at all. Towards the end of the second semester, when it became obvious that I was going to just barely make it, if at all, I did try a little harder, but not hard enough. I missed being able to stay by three answers on my last final exam. I should've just done the damn work and paid attention, but that was hard for me at that time because I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, except that I didn't want to have one at all. Now I can't go back to school until the one I attended lifts my academic suspension, or at least that's how I understand the situation. I've tried a couple times to get back into college (although I still don't know what for, other than to get "some kind of degree" really) and have been rejected every time.

I really wish that I would've had a little more sense back then and less need for escapism. I'm still hoping that some day I can go back to school and make my parents proud for accomplishing something, but I don't know if that will ever happen. There's just too much about the future that is entirely unknown to me for me to honestly believe that it will.

Things to do whilst I'm away

2009-09-27T13:54:00.000-04:00

So today's kind of an "off day" for me here -- still ended up getting a "fare" this morning -- my other friend Lori needed a ride today, so I was happy to oblige, as was my gas tank.

Just a short post of fun links to visit when you run out of other things to do.

Gamesville by Lycos -- free to play, free to win. Addicting as all get out. Many a post have been delayed because of Three-Eyed Bingo.

X17 Online -- I won tickets for a Pink concert in Alexandria, VA from this site (although I'm obviously not going to be able to make it, it was a possibility for a fleeting moment) -- all the raunchiest, dirtiest, nastiest rumors on TinselTown and "the biz." One of my guilty pleasures.

Something Awful -- I recommend Photoshop Phriday. I don't dig too deep on that site though -- there's a lot of gross stuff there that can't just be magically unseen.

Engrish -- Say what you want, sometimes abuse of the English language on foreign packaging and products is just plain hilarious. This site explores the best of the worst from Asia, shared by its users.

Motifake -- Some of the funniest and stupidest and nastiest things I've seen, in the form of Motivational posters. Awesomeness.

Haiku #1

2009-09-26T18:22:00.001-04:00

Post thoughts on a screen
Return again and again
Is it OCD?

Indecision

2009-09-26T17:23:00.000-04:00

In a little of a funk, so mind your head; the light's dim in here today.

I may not be writing a blog for tomorrow; Marco will be off for the first Sunday in a very long time. He usually works open to close on Sunday, so it'll be awesome to have him home for a change.

So today I've been thinking about how hanging in limbo, waiting for life to start, is just no fun. Not really feeling sorry for myself, as I'm not too depressed about it, since I am at least trying. It's just been rather difficult for me to figure out what I want to do with my life, since I have to be here anyways and all. I'm trying to figure out what is most important to me; what do I really want to achieve? There's just too many options for me to comprehend sometimes. It gets frustrating when there are so many things to do but only so many that I actually enjoy and even fewer that I enjoy AND could make a life of doing.

For me, the problem has always been indecision. There's just too many options out in the world and even more still that's unknown or yet to be discovered! How am I supposed to light on something and stick with it? How do I know that I'm making the right choice?

I think, more than anything, that I want to make a difference in the world. Not something huge, but definitely a little bigger than the average person's impact. But I just don't know how to fix it.... To me, it seems as though life is hardly worth fighting for anymore when we're all so determined, as a society, to watch it burn. Just how do you convince people who are dead set on spreading their messages of hate and inequity that they are the reason they are angry and nobody else? Please, tell me how.

How do you convince people that it's much easier to just be considerate to one another; consider that we are all different and that there is no such thing as perfection or supremacy. We're all the same on the inside; we all just want something worth living for, something worth smiling for, and something worth nurturing.

But how does one put that into action when we all know subconsciously that it doesn't really matter. Eventually, there won't be a world left, thanks to the last couple centuries worth of poisoning it. It's incredible how it took thousands of years to build the society we live in today, only to have it implode upon itself like it is now. It almost makes me feel like going all, "the end is nigh" and whatnot, but I don't see it quite like that.

I mean, as long as I'm here anyways, might as well try....

I guess. I just don't know whether to believe it's actually worth it or not. Damn indecision.

WTF?! Friday

2009-09-25T15:43:00.003-04:00

I've decided to start a new "feature piece" on my blog -- the last Friday of every month shall henceforth be known in JennoLand as WTF?! Friday featuring all those things that leave me going, "What in the f**k is that?!"

So without further ado, today's topic is plastic surgery. Now, I have had thoughts about how my nose is too bulbous or my under-chin is too big... or how I would like to have just ever-so-slightly poutier lips. I've never seriously considering going under the needle or knife for it, though.

What I don't understand is just how some folks can continually butcher their already-good looks to become unrecognizable, even to their family. I also don't understand quantum physics or how the whole "speed of light and sound" thing works... but I don't think there really is any justification for continually modifying one's appearance just because it's not perfect. The thing about perfection, especially when it comes to appearances, is that (and this is just my experience; your mileage may vary) the harder you try to perfect it, the farther away from perfection you will get.

I present to you Exhibits A through E, after the jump.

Exhibit A: Michaela Romanini, before and after. She is all of 40 years old and became "famous" after her over-abuse of collagen.

Exhibit B: Amanda Lepore, actual age unknown. Born Armand Lepore, although mysteriously, no photographs or other evidence seems to exist.

Exhibit C: Dennis Avner, also known as "The Cat Man," has undergone extensive surgeries to more closely resemble his totem animal, the tiger, in appearance.

Exhibit D: Jocelyn Wildenstein, a Swiss socialite, who has spent approximately FOUR MILLION DOLLARS in her quest for perfection -- she apparently caught her rich husband in bed with a 21 year old Russian model and instead of leaving him, she decided to try to win him back! He still left her, but she is now remarried.

Exhibit E: Hang Mioku, 48, of South Korea started toying with plastic surgery at the age of 28. She was eventually cut off by surgeons because of her frequent visits for more alterations, then one surgeon gave her some silicone, some needles, and taught her how to inject herself. When she ran out of silicone, she still wasn't satisfied and felt it necessary to inject cooking oil into her face. The face you see at left is forever scarred from those events.

Now, like I said, I can understand a little touch up here and there, but I can't imagine anyone in their right mind going to any of these extremes. Nobody is naturally ugly enough to make these "new" faces look good.

Just Fight Me

2009-09-24T17:46:00.001-04:00

Here's a song/poem I wrote when in a particularly deep funk. I won't do double posting days very often but when I do, the second will likely be something similar to this -- artistic, whether visual, written, or in some other way in nature.

Just Fight Me

Go on and tell me
I'm gonna be okay
Go on and tell me
I'm not a worthless waste
It's just too bad the words spoken before yours
For years took precedence

I tried to be nice
I tried to stay calm
But that's just not me
I didn't want to fight with you
So instead I'll just fight myself

Go on and tell me
I've screwed up royally
Go on and say it,
I should've just jumped
It's just too bad that's all I heard for years
Now is my last chance

I can't say I'm sorry for something I never did
All I wanted was to be your friend
It hurts now knowing I've made my own end
How did I manage to believe...?

The lies, the hate
Not me
The hurt, the pain
Not me

Go on and tell me
I've screwed up royally
Go on and say it
You never knew me
You too lost your last chance

Front Page News

2009-09-24T13:09:00.000-04:00

It had been a long day at work for me -- I came in at 7:30 to open. By the time Marco came to get me at four, right after he went on his lunch break, I was sore, tired, but still in a really good mood. We were going to go home and eat lunch together before he got back to work, and I was going to spend my evening cleaning the apartment up, although I didn't tell him as much. He was already planning on giving me some good lovin's - he mentioned it a few times in the space it took for me to get in the car with him - but I thought it might be nice for him to come home to clean, uncluttered living quarters for once (this was well before the days of the Job Jar, obviously).

As we were going down Hart Street, more or less one of two "main drags" in town, there was a large amount of smoke hanging in the sky all the way on the other end of town. Hell, it looked like it may have even been across the river, in Illinois... but as we came closer to the end of Hart Street and made our turn onto Third Street, you could see the intersection of Hart and Second Street - our street - blocked off by police cars. We usually turned on Seminary which is the next one up from Hart, but Marco went a block further to the next turn. As we passed Seminary, I looked in the direction of our apartment building through the trees, just barely able to make it out beyond the intersection. My mind exploded when I could not unsee what I had just glimpsed.

The place we called our "home" together, where all our Earthly possessions lay, where we were safe together was burning. I burst out of the car as soon as Marco turned the corner onto Second Street, ran for the grass, and fell to my knees on the pavement just short of the lawn on the corner. In my moments of grief, I got in touch with every last fiber of my being that still believed in God, screamed in turmoil to the Heavens, and flailed, helpless against the sudden flood of emotions I was drowning in. I got in touch with my inner Gospel-style churchgoer having a very religious "moment," let's just put it that way. I mean, I was down on all fours beating the ground and wailing, "Why God, why?" and "Oh Jesus, please make it stop!" (I'm more of an emergency spiritualist than anything when in a state of panic.) We had, in the huge space of time between getting off of work and arriving home, suddenly become homeless with nothing but our car and our work clothes on our backs.

There was little to do at the scene of the fire, once I had finally calmed down a bit, that is. We asked the policemen guarding the perimeter what had started the blaze but nobody had any answers yet. All there was left to do was wait for it to die down, but there were other concerns already on our minds. After about twenty minutes or so, we went over to Marco's parents' house to let them know what happened. Of course, me being Little Miss Emo, all I could say was, "It's all gone..." so Marco did most of the explaining, especially when I called my folks from their house to notify them (they can't understand a lick of what I cry because I'm just plain incoherent). His folks went to the scene while Marco and I went first to my job to let them know what happened -- where my assistant manager, Raina, offered up her son's bedroom for us to stay for the night -- and then to his job to let them know, too. He was scheduled to work the next day, and that is (as best as I can recall, anyways) the only day he's ever missed of scheduled work in the two years he's been there.

We returned to the scene as they were finally beginning to get the blaze under control. All the neighbors had collected outside, around the back of the house in the alleyway. A couple of friendly folks brought Marco and I some chairs to sit on while we waited for the firemen to come interview us about the incident. By this point, I was so exhausted from sobbing my guts out that I had become delirious. I found the constant flood of water coming from the door of our apartment, which was on the rear of the building, absolutely hilarious. Horrible, but funny. I was beginning to see for the first time that I would actually survive this. We, as a family, would survive this.

Finally, we were interviewed by the firemen, during which time we asked about the cause of the fire, but it was too early to tell what had caused it. We also asked if any of our things had made it through, and it was too early to tell that for sure either. Then we were pointed to the waiting Red Cross volunteers across the street, waiting for us. Would you believe that they "couldn't" put us up for the night? They did, however, give us travel sacks, each with their own little short toothbrush, toothpaste, combs, washcloths, soap, and shampoo. I apparently cried enough to earn myself a little beanie baby style white bear with the Red Cross emblem on its belly (I named it "Burnie" haha). Aside from the travel sacks, they did provide us with some much needed assistance that I was less grateful for than I ought to have been -- they gave us a credit card with $220 for food and $280 for clothing. No roof provided, but at least we would be able to eat and dress once the card was activated by them 72 hours later.

After we were finished being interviewed, comforted, and "relieved," we headed up to Wal-Mart to take out some money from the ATM that my folks were (very very thankfully) able to send for us, then over to Raina's to get some much needed rest. It had been, quite possibly, the longest, most difficult day of our lives so far. In fact, I'm willing to bet it'll still be in "the top three" by the time we're in the dirt, if not still in the top position.

The next morning, we woke around ten o'clock (like I said, we really needed that sleep!) and went to get our cable "shut off" (more like tell them, "don't worry about disconnecting it, the building's destroyed anyways. Just discontinue our service, please.") and to Marco's friend Josh's house to start looking for a new place to live. After a few phone calls to find out that there was nothing available in our budget, we headed over to Marco's parents' house once again. His mom was home with his sister, but only to wait for us. We thought dad was at work, but he was at our apartment getting our things out!

That's right, getting our things out. As it turned out, we were insanely lucky -- all we ended up losing in the fire was a side table, some extension cords, and our bedding... whereas everyone else had lost everything. Until we got back to our apartment, however, we didn't realize just how fortunate we had been. Apparently, the fire started in the apartment right next door to ours. Just to give you a tiny bit of back-story, our landlord was in the process of evicting his niece, to whom he rented the apartment next to ours. After "evicting" her, he had the power shut off. She then had it scheduled to be turned back on in her name on Monday. The last I saw of her before the fire was Sunday evening. Sometime between Friday, when it had been shut off, and Monday when it was turned back on, someone, whether it was the coke-snorting chicken-head niece or one of her four children, had left the stove burners on with a bunch of grease pans atop them. We discovered this the next day when Marco's parents told us as much, as they had made sure to check with the fire department about going to pick through our apartment and get our belongings for us.

We also discovered that the fire was front page news on Tuesday morning in the local paper, the Vincennes Sun-Commercial (see photo above).

It was incredibly frightening to be there after half the wall that separated our apartment from the stairwell to the upstairs units was gone, the ceilings caving in, water dripping from everywhere, and the floor covered in this ashy-muddy-water mixture. The smell was absolutely nauseating. I still catch a whiff of it now and then, although it's most likely just my imagination. That's a scent that you just can't unsmell right away. Amazingly, it did eventually come out of our clothes. More amazingly, as I said, we didn't actually lose anything even close to important -- even our computers and all our saved papers (such as tax papers, pay stubs, legal documents and so on) were just fine. The most amazing thing about all of it, however, is that nobody was even home when it happened. Of the twelve people that lived in the building, everyone was gone somewhere.

We were homeless for only three days -- the first and last were both spent at Raina's while the middle was spent at a cheap motel (complete with mystery stains AND scents, but we were in no mood to complain) that an anonymous fellow laundromat patron ever-so-kindly gave the attendant the money and $20 extra for us to stay there AND get some food in our bellies. How we escaped the incident without being set back too far while everyone else was considerably less fortunate is beyond me. The best explanation that I could ever come up with is Karma -- every other adult in the building was involved in shady activities, either in the past or present, including, but probably not limited to producing methamphetamine, harboring criminals, and child neglect. We've never done nor wanted to do any of those things. That's about the best I can come up with.

It's also the absolute closest I've ever come to believing in God. Sometimes, I guess, you can't just explain why things happen the way they do.

The Big, Bad Bully

2009-09-23T08:12:00.009-04:00

One topic that is somewhat difficult yet therapeutic for me to discuss is bullying. Nearly 30% of America's youth is either a target for bullies, bullying others, or both at one point or another. Of that 30%, in a survey among 6th to 10th grade students, 13% did the bullying, 11% were the target, and another 6% were involved with both bullying and being bullied. (via SafeYouth.org) I myself, unsurprisingly to most, was a target for bullying while I was growing up. Its effects on me were both profound and long-lasting -- it is also the alleged cause of my onset of Borderline Personality Disorder, or at least one of the triggers. I still struggle, to this day, to effectively manage my negative self-talk and keep it in check. Occasionally, I even have "flash backs" to the worst moments I've endured.

Something I've never been able to understand is why anyone would ever feel the need to bully someone to the point of depression. Most kids that are bullied are often already insecure, anxious, and have low self-esteem. How does it make any sense to pick on someone that is weaker than yourself? Two reasons for bullying behavior are becoming more known: a lack of a nurturing, supportive environment and the desire for power or supremacy over others. It's no big secret that growing up in a broken, abusive, or overly permissive home can really mess someone up in the long term; many bullies come from this type of environment. As for the desire for power over others, I believe that a lot of that also has to do with the environment the child is raised in. I can see how they might make the jump to becoming a bully amongst their peers when they are the middle or youngest child, always fighting for attention, the amount of food they want on their plate, or better presents than others during holidays. I can also see how they might fall into that pattern of behavior when there is so much violence in nearly everything we see on TV and in the media in general. It seems that there is always some kind of power struggle occurring.

As I said, being the target of bullies often has long-lasting effects. I remember one phrase in particular that was spoken to me with near-daily frequency, "the world would be better off if you were dead." I still have trouble getting that phrase out of my head, especially when my depression is raging and I just don't have the emotional energy to fight my demons off. In addition to being told every day how utterly undeserving of love I was (that's one of the many things I took that phrase to mean), I was also pushed off the merry-go-round, spit on, and of course, picked dead last for any "team" activities on the playground or in gym. Eventually, I tried to keep my head down and just isolate myself from everyone else. Even that didn't work: when I would hide, one of them, most frequently Corey Haataja, would find me and continue on with the bullying. Whether I told the teachers what was going on or not, whether I stood up for myself or not, whether I faked sick to get out of school or not... the bullying didn't stop.

It didn't even stop after I attempted to take my own life sitting at my desk with my head down and a piece of green yarn wrapped tight around my neck. No, as soon as I returned back to school from the hospital (I was put into the youth psychiatric ward for about 10 days, if I remember right) the bullying picked right back up again, even worse than before. Now they had even more ammunition against me -- I couldn't even kill myself right.

To some degree, I learned how to block it out over the years, although I wasn't able to really pick and choose when and what I was blocking out. I still tried to get one up on the bullies by making the teachers aware of the way they bothered me, but they were smarter than me in social situations. They knew exactly how to talk their way out of it and make it seem as though they did nothing wrong, as if they were providing me with constructive criticism by commenting on my weight. Even after being transferred into some special education classes to both get me away from the bullies and allow me to study English and math at my own pace... just more ammunition. It continued right up until a week or so before high school graduation. One of the last incidents I can remember was during Economics in a temporary classroom where the old band room used to be. Jesse Collins and Clint Maki thought it'd be funny to take a flagpole used for color guard and poke it at my crotch, saying that I liked corndogs in it. Where they got that idea, I haven't a clue, but I was not having it. There was absolutely no way I was going to take that kind of blatant harassment sitting down, so I grabbed the flagpole from Jesse, launched it like a javelin (but with much less oomph) towards the floor beside him, stood up and shouted, "shut the f**k up or I'm gonna kick your *ss!!" Well, apparently, the teacher either didn't hear or didn't care what they were saying and doing to me, but she (the substitute teacher, Mrs. Bertagnoli) sure did hear and see what I did. As had become custom for the times I stood up for myself, I was kicked out of class and sent to the principal's office.

It's not very often I will request anything important of my readers, but please indulge me here. Ask your children what is going on at school. Discuss their interactions with other children. Explain to them why it is never okay to bully or be bullied. Hug and kiss and love your children; set some time aside for them every day even. Make sure they know, without a doubt, that they are loved and need not listen to the negative words of others and take them within themselves, nor do they need to prove to anyone else that they are better or stronger. Tell them again and again and again, even after they beg you to stop.

Above all else, don't let the school punish your children for standing up for themselves. If you find that your child is the target of bullying behavior, find out all you can about it and let their school know what is going on and that you are working to fix it. If you find that your child is doing the bullying, it's even more important that the school knows what is going on so they can monitor and discipline your child accordingly.

Thanks, as always, for reading... but especially today. Whether you were bullied, the bully, or otherwise (or even not at all) I hope you learned something about it today and realize its importance.

Art Pictorial

2009-09-22T14:09:00.002-04:00

Today seems like as good a day as any to share some of my digital art. A couple years ago I bought a digital pen tablet from Ebay after many years of fighting with my mouse for control. At the time, I was in a guild on the Shards of Dalaya EverQuest free server. For those who don't know, EverQuest is an insanely popular Massively Multi-player Online Role Playing Game, and a guild is like an in-game family of sorts. Anyway, my guild leader and her husband are both insanely talented digital artists. As far as I know, they both use their talents commercially. My guild leader helped me learn some basics of PhotoShop and Flash drawing and illustrating and was always very supportive in helping me improve. She was the one who told me about pen tablets -- if I hadn't met her, I'd likely still be wondering how some people can draw so darn well with just a mouse!

So a little less than a story today, but rather a pictorial of some of my adventures in visual art after the jump. Hope you enjoy it.

This is the first piece I ever finished in Flash.
My nephew, Taylor, is much cuter in photos than as line-art, though.
All I did to make this was trace over a photo of him, block in some color behind the lines, and add a background. It was fairly easy; the most difficult part of this one was getting the layers organized.

My first "finished" project in PhotoShop. It's supposed to be my Gnome Warrior from EverQuest.

This is an unnamed collaboration between my sister and myself.
She began painting and drawing on her bedroom walls around
the same time that I officially became the band geek. This was
(and still is) my favorite out of the many illustrations she put
up on her walls.

"Kosteafai" -- another of my EverQuest characters.

A colorful, fun self-portrait from my Denny's days,
aptly titled "Diner Chic."

Another trace-n-paint over jobbie. Untitled.

My personal favorite, "The Squid Lady."
She's actually a siren, or so I'm told.
I think she's just squiddy.

This is my only job....

2009-09-21T19:19:00.001-04:00

Well, tonight I was supposed to be getting together with a friend for an evening of drunken Scrabble but it turns out that he had to stay at work for more overtime. I suppose it's just as well since I didn't get enough sleep last night and woke up crabby, sore, and already wanting to go back to bed. If only there had been a screw it button next to my bed; I surely would've pressed it today.

Then again, had I done that, I would've been skipping out on pretty much every responsibility entrusted to me, and I can't have that. It's not like life is really asking all that much of me right now anyway. I get up early, drive the neighbor (who's moving across town by the first of October *sniffles*) to work, sometimes catch a nap, help get her kids off the bus and then cart her back across town. After that, I do my chores and the rest of the evening is all mine. So yeah... life's really not asking too much right now.

I've been feeling a little out of it lately, though. Even though everything's finally settled into a routine around here (it only took a year and a half to find said routine), something's amiss. Nothing's going wrong, but I still have an uneasy feeling. I don't know if it's anxiety creeping up again (as it does from time to time) or just stress over not working. It's more likely a combination of the two -- by not working, I'm feeling as though I'm not doing enough to contribute towards the "common good" of the household in any tangible way. Marco reassures me that I contribute very well, although I kind of still feel a certain inadequacy. I just wish that it was easier for me to manage my emotions and keep them from intruding on my thoughts and actions when I need my focus and adaptability once. Because of my Borderline Personality Disorder, however, I've always found it rather difficult to hold down a job and keep my emotional balance in check. I've worked at three different places since I've been here and walked out of the last two whereas the first one I was fired from.

When something rubs me the wrong way, it can be nearly impossible for me to keep from having a "moment." What I mean by that is that I often get sidelined by a wave of emotion so large -- and keep in mind that just about anything can set me off sometimes -- that I have a hard time focusing my patience and let things just "roll off" my back. It's so similar to a knee-jerk reaction that I don't even really have time to think my actions through; I just go into auto-pilot. I can't even name an instance off-hand when I flew off the handle about something, if that tells you just how insignificant the things that set me off can be.

Until I'm able to better manage my emotions, I feel it would be downright foolish of me to start yet another job that I already don't like just to end up screwing it up somehow. I've worked somewhere around 10 or 12 jobs so far and have managed to have the same results every time. I've only ended employment on good terms once, although I still technically walked off of that job, too. When I moved down here, I left a week earlier than originally planned -- Marco and I missed each other an awful lot. At any rate, I'm hopeful that I can has out my problems by thinking through them more, a task that is greatly aided just by writing my thoughts down here. I feel I can contribute better if I recover a bit more and practice my strategies for self-soothing before moving to another job. I'm also finally getting some much-needed structure -- between "the Job Jar" and chauffeuring my neighbor to and fro, I've got a fairly decent schedule going, and that helps quite a bit, too.

Rainy days are here again...

2009-09-20T11:55:00.000-04:00

I absolutely love rainy days. They take me back to a special little happy place. Today's a nice, dreary, gloomy, drizzly day here. This summer's been fairly dry; a lot of the corn was lost last year due to floods - this year the problem was not enough rain. We haven't had a great deal of thunderstorms this year, either. The few that we have had were fairly weak, with one or two exceptions. Another of my favorite pass-times is watching the weather, both online (The Weather Channel, NOAA on the web, Weather Underground) and outside either on the porch or giving chase in the car. While I do love the excitement that seeing severe weather can bring, I'm kind of glad at the same time that we haven't had too much of it. The first time I heard the tornado sirens here was kind of crazy.

In late February of '08, about a month and a half after I moved down here to Indiana, there was one particularly strong, unseasonable storm that scared the holy daylights out of me. The sirens went off around the same time that the power started flickering, and so I bolted for the closet that was closest to the anatomical center of the building. At the time, we were still living in an "efficiency" apartment in what used to be an historical home. It was likely one of the most spacious and beautiful in its own time, but had been converted into four apartment units at some point in the last 50 or so years. The closet that I found myself taking refuge in was approximately one-and-a-half feet deep by two feet wide. So there I sat, my fat fanny squished into this tiny little hole in the wall that reeked of cat piss, crying my eyes out on the phone with my mother. She just laughed at me, although she wasn't as certain as Marco was that a tornado was "impossible" in Vincennes.

After all the action outside died down, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. The closet wouldn't have protected me had a tornado ripped through town. In fact, I'd be willing to wager that I would've been more likely to be injured, at least if the building collapsed, as it likely would have in its state of disrepair. It was then that I realized that I would prefer to chase and watch the storms when they come instead of hiding. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you want to look at it), there haven't been many severe storms still. At any rate, I don't hide from storms anymore.

Another thing about the rain, especially when it's just plain ol' rain and not accompanied by thunder, is that it can save you on your water bill if utilized properly. When I was a kid, I loved pulling my swimsuit on and running outside for a shower in a huge downpour. For some reason, though, I don't think my parents were really too crazy about my sister and I bathing in the rain. I can remember twice offhand that I got away with doing it, though: once across the street in the church parking lot over the storm drain and another time in the driveway.

There's not a great deal of things I can really remember from when I was growing up (one tends to block a lot out when there are some traumatizing things going on at the same time), although I didn't lose all my memories. Somehow, I've managed to hang onto some really good ones... the kind that make you giggle and grin just thinking back on them... I suppose, in a way, this blog is my way of trying to remind myself of all the small joys of life. After all, this is kind of my little experiment to find my own happy... and I think it just might be working. One week in and I'm really enjoying it.

Summer Ramble

2009-09-19T16:48:00.003-04:00

Ah, Indiana summers. So hot, humid, and overbearing... nothing like the summers in the upper peninsula of Michigan. I remember there usually being a cool breeze, the scent of fresh water and trees on the wind.... Sure, I don't get chewed up by mosquitoes nearly as much here in Indiana, but then again, I go outside a whole heck of a lot less, too. Growing up, I'd say roughly half my time was spent outside, and the other half was divided between sleeping and watching TV. If it weren't for the heat, sweatiness, and odor of pigs on the breeze here, I might spend more time outside. Aside from those issues, there's also bigger, hungrier mosquitoes and less large, grassy areas around here (It's all corn fields!). There's also nowhere to go swimming... and that is a big problem for me.

Anytime I could in the last few years before moving to Indiana, I was going swimming. I was always trying to drag my friends out to my favorite haunt -- Big Lake. It's kind of a joke, I guess, because it's not really all that big, and I don't know whether or not it is, in fact, a lake. I don't remember whether I ever succeeded in getting them to come there with me or not, but I still went there a lot anyways. For a long time, the only person I could get to go with me was one of my neighbors and her son. It's not that I really minded spending time with her, I simply preferred my other friends. I can't quite put my finger on why, although it may be due to the fact that I seemed to always have to explain everything to her. It was as if every large word I used was the first time she had ever heard it. That's all fine and well when speaking with a ten year old (or something like that, I don't really spend a lot of time around kids, so that's a rough estimate of when they learn "big words"), but I don't want to have to define and dumb down my speech for my friends. There's just something about it that feels... wrong. Like I'm fooling myself or trying to just be cool for the sake of popularity. It's just not me.

Anyway, this alleged lake has always been, since I first went, my favorite place to swim. It's perfect in every way -- soft sand, no rocks, no leeches, and best of all... it's as warm as bath water in the summertime. As a special perk, it's out in the middle of nowhere and isn't too well known, so it's rare that you have to share the small beach accessible from the road with anyone else. I'm not the most social person on Earth (thank my dad for that. We always called him "Mr. Asocial" as I was growing up), so that's just right for me, too. It was, in many ways, my own little paradise. I used to drive out there just to sit with my feet in the water and think; the peacefulness of it really lent itself to introspection and reflection, something I've been really into since I got all my partying out of my system. Nowadays, I much prefer just sitting at home, quietly listening to music or doing sudoku puzzles, or maybe even reading, over going out and drinking or having a get-together with a bunch of friends. I suppose it doesn't hurt that I don't really have too many friends here to begin with. I guess I've always been a bit of a "fly solo" kind of person -- I didn't have many friends up north, either. Tons of acquaintances, but real friends were kind of hard to come by.

I guess today I'm just really missing home more than anything (or maybe it's just anxiety talking). I've been thinking a lot about how lonely it is here for me. Believe me, making friends back home has nothing on the difficulty level here. People just aren't all that friendly with each other here. You can't even look someone in the eye and say hello to them without getting a suspicious look! Quite a few times when I've tried making friends with people I've worked with, they didn't know how to react to me. So maybe I'm a little socially awkward sometimes, I can totally see that, but what is so wrong with just being genuinely nice? People tend to take it the wrong way and think I have some ulterior motive other than just to be a friendly person it seems. That's the main reason why I actually hate going anywhere where there's a lot of people to actually socialize with. My experience has been feeling embarrassed just for being me. Nobody wants that, so I'd rather just be alone. And that's why I miss summers up north... the time to think and space to just be. I really wish I could just visit Big Lake on a day like today....

Writer's Block

2009-09-18T09:39:00.003-04:00

So today I thought I might put off posting my daily blog until later in the day because of the inner monologue:

omg, what am i going to write about today? um, um... uhh... hmm....

I still haven't quite decided, even as I quite obviously sit here ~~writing~~ typing this up... but you just know, coming from me, that it's going to be yet another long-winded post that somehow has some hidden (or obvious) meaning. Either way, I'm doing it now. Procrastination is so overrated.

Everything I write has to have meaning, at least to me. Whether I write for relief, validation, amusement, I can't bring myself to post anything that I feel has absolutely no value. Back when I used to do a lot of song and poem writing, everything had to rhyme too. Thank goodness I don't feel the need to rhyme my blogs, although I do have to chuckle pondering what they might sound like....

Came to write but the words won't flow
Now what's on my mind? Nobody knows!
Where are the words that once came so easy?
Perhaps they ran, fearing they were too cheesy.
Wait, there they are, come back again!
Hello, hello! Verbs and nouns, my good ol' friends!

Okay, so maybe that didn't quite rhyme. I tried. My point is that writing for the sake of writing is kind of silly. The whole reason that I'm pushing myself to write a blog every single day is to keep myself motivated. Sometimes it's difficult to stay motivated when you don't see immediate results, although I'm honestly thrilled that I've already got three followers (my loyal and loving mother was my first! Does that still count?) and plenty of positive feedback. More important to me than any of that, however, is simply the satisfaction I get from knowing I have a good outlet for my ideas, thoughts, and stories and a great inlet of support and friendship in exchange for it.

Writing for the sake of writing is also like doing housework to "keep up appearances" or writing a book just to make a quick buck as so many popular best-selling authors seem to have started doing. It's like selling out. But once you know what you hope to gain from the experience, it does make it a lot easier to just let the words flow.

Housework is kind of the same way, at least for me. There's got to be a reason for me to clean. Marco and I finally took up a plan of action to keep our house clean, as well as keep our stress levels down due to clutter. I didn't exactly grow up in a neat freak household, although I do remember my mom always apologizing to guests (when we had them, which was kind of rare-ish) about the house being a wreck. In my opinion (as well as many others') it was never really all that bad. Just some clutter. So we were packrats, big deal. Well, I've finally realized why it was such a big deal for the house to be cluttered. Marco and I were both really, heinously stressed out all the time due to our finances being thhhbbbbbt (aka "poopy"), not getting to spend a decent amount of time together... and the cluttered state of our trailer. One night a few weeks ago, though, he came home all excited about a new idea for us to implement to help us out with our messy ways: the job jar.

See, what you do is write down all the separate tasks that cleaning your home includes, as well as throwing in a couple more for good measure. What we got down -- sixteen tasks overall -- were these four daily tasks:

Dishes
Trash
Laundry
General clutter

For our weekly tasks, we wrote down the following twelve to round off the list:

Vacuum - back end of trailer
Vacuum - front end of trailer
Toilets scrubbed
Cabinets cleaned
Coffee table and living room picked up, washed as needed
Computer desk and room picked up, washed as needed
Bedding changed, washed
Fridge cleaned out
Hard floors swept and mopped
Car cleaned out, washed (interior only; we don't care how the outside looks!)
Bathroom counters and sinks organized, washed
Microwave cleaned

And that's it! Really, when we broke the bulk of our mess issues down, there wasn't all that much to it. Six days out of the week, we each pick a task out of the weekly jar, and every day we each pick two jobs out of the daily jar. We're on the third day after implementation of the job jar and our trailer is still clean, and I'm still feeling motivated and positive about it. Actually, more than anything, I feel... relieved... that we've finally found a solution that can and will work for us. With as much as Marco works, it's hard for him to do anything at home without a plan set out in front of him, and the job jar helps break the seemingly-insurmountable task of house cleaning down for us both. By far and away the worst part of cleaning has always been how daunting it seems. Now that we have the tasks laid out and separated, it's not nearly as intimidating and is actually kind of fun (yes, I said fun... don't suffer a myocardial infarction now, mom!) to see the tasks get finished, one by one, and be placed in the "completed" jar until they're all finished and ready to be picked again.

Busy Day...

2009-09-17T20:32:00.002-04:00

I somehow managed to stay occupied all day, so now, at the end of my day I'm too pooped out to actually cook anything. I wish I could, but it tends to be too much work for me to undertake after a long day. Aside from borderline personality disorder, I also suffer from fibromyalgia. What that basically means is that, regardless of my activity level, most days I'm really friggin' sore. It's like a muscle ache but feels deeper than that, but not quite bone level. It's really weird.

So I ended up cooking myself some Lipton Rice Sides cheddar cheese and broccoli for dinner. That was good enough.

But I'd still like some Chicken Parmesan sometime soon.
It's been waaaay too long. My dad taught me how to make the sauce, although I modified the method... and the breading for the chicken, although I modified that too... and how to fry it, but I do that the way he taught me. Almost everything I know about cooking, my dad taught me. Everything I know about baking, my mom taught me. So, here's my personal recipe for chicken parmesan.

Chicken Parmesan

The sauce:
1 small can tomato paste
1 medium can tomato sauce
1 large can stewed tomatoes (I prefer basil and garlic), cut in chunks or diced
1/4 tsp salt or garlic salt (I prefer the latter)
1 tbsp. chopped garlic (I prefer fresh)
1 1/2 tsp. brown sugar
1/8th-ish tsp. pinch cinnamon*

blend all ingredients, simmering 5 minutes between adding each of the last three ingredients in succession. Leave simmer on low heat while finishing chicken.

The frying batter:
2 cups flour
1 tsp. garlic salt (blended in flour for fry batter)

3 large eggs
1/4 milk (blended with eggs for fry batter)

1 1/4 lbs chicken, cut in 3/4 thick strips

Heat 1/4 - 1/2 cups Olive Oil to 350 degrees Fahrenheit - it is ready to fry when a drop of water sizzles in the pan.

Dip chicken in flour, covering all exposed meat. Dip in egg. Repeat both dips and dip once more in flour. Fry 'em up! They're done when lightly browned. (If you have a thermometer, cook to at least 160 degrees Fahrenheit to ensure that the meat is fully cooked AND flavorful.) Place chicken over cooked spaghetti or try perciatelli for a little change and cover with desired amount of sauce and desired type of cheese (I recommend Kraft 5 cheese Italian blend)

*optional but recommended

So I guess that's my blog for the day. I hope you enjoy it if you decide to cook it sometime. :)

A Day Off

2009-09-16T13:24:00.001-04:00

Wow, I overslept. I'm usually up-and-at-'em by six in the morning or so, so it's somewhat odd for me to just now be waking up at nearly one in the afternoon. Back in the day (like there actually was a "day"), I could sleep like nobody's business. Partly because I was so depressed, partly because I was so bored, mostly because I just didn't care. Nowadays I actually have a few responsibilities to take care of during the day, some days more than others. Generally speaking, I don't have to even get up on Sunday or Monday mornings if I don't want to, but it's just easier to maintain my routine if I do.

So what didn't I have to do this morning that I usually do? I didn't need to give my neighbor a ride to work this morning at 6:30. For the last, oh, three months or so, I've been her ride to work since she can't drive anymore. Come up with whatever acceptable explanation you can for it; that's not my story to tell. (If it were, though, you know I would gladly tell it.) I go over to her house around six, watch a little of the morning news while she gets the kids up and dressed, and then we take off to drop the kids at the sitters, where they catch the bus, and then drop her off to work. That's my day, pretty much, until about 2:30 in the afternoon, which is when I go to get her kids off the bus, whether or not she's made it home in time from work. In exchange for this heinously easy and somewhat-fun "job," she helps us out with our food supply. It's a nice routine, and honestly, I'd do it for free if she needed me to.

I don't know where along the lines I became this reliable person. Maybe I've always been kind of "old faithful" for my friends... I'd like to think that if they're ever really in a bind, they can turn to me to help in any way I can. When it comes to actual jobs that I've had, however, I've not ever been all that reliable. I've called off work for so many different things, most of which usually didn't actually involve me being sick. I've shown up late, although never more than half an hour or so. The most unreliable thing I've ever done is to walk off the job entirely at some point during my shift. As much as I hate to admit it, I've walked off of or been fired from every single job that I've ever had. Even the job that I had just before I moved to Indiana, I failed to give adequate notice. I did try, though. I really did. I just couldn't stand to be separated from Marc for another week.

Part of the problem for me has been finding work that keeps my mind off of my feelings about everything and anything -- if I'm not enjoying what I'm doing... or at least being rather occupied with it... my mind tends to wander away from the job and into my emotions about everything. With my borderline personality disorder comes an insatiable and irresistible urge to think about how everything around makes me feel. While this might not sound like it's all that horrible in principle, in practice, it can be rather counterproductive. For example, one particularly emotional day while I was working at Wal-Mart as a cashier, it seemed like every customer to come through my line was actually a couple or part of one. At that point in time, I was very lonely, having isolated myself emotionally from anyone that might want to know me on a romantically intimate level. Somehow, I managed to translate their seemingly constant appearance in my line as God getting back at me for some horrible transgression. As is by now quite normal for me, I started working myself up over it, telling myself in my thoughts that I was unworthy of love and shouldn't be jealous because their purpose was to prove my unworthiness to me. Yeah, messed up, I know.

Another problem for me has been finding a working environment that surrounds me with personalities I jive well with. For whatever reason -- likely because I just became used to it being so during childhood -- I often feel as though I'm under attack if anyone critiques me or wants me to perform a job task I haven't gotten around to yet. I also have a tendency to come across as angry when I'm actually just mildly annoyed. THAT one, I know I can blame on my mother. She always sounds ticked even if she's just kidding. Well, maybe not always, but rather often. Then again, I'm great at mistranslating others' interactions with me, so it might just be another maladaptive trait on my part. One glaring example of my inability to understand others' interactions with me is when I was fired from Ponderosa. I felt I was being targeted when asked to deck scrub beneath some prep tables, so I raised a HUGE fuss about being "the only that is ever required to deck scrub." I wasn't outright refusing to actually DO the deck scrubbing, so I don't think actual insubordination was the reason for my being fired. I just complained about it the whole time, shoving and banging things around. Perhaps it was the somewhat-violent nature of my outburst. I guess I'll never know for sure, but it doesn't really matter anymore either.

I'm actually hopeful nowadays that I can eventually figure out what career I can take up AND enjoy AND succeed at AND stick with for the long-term. Unfortunately, I still flip flop between career choices weekly. Sometimes I want to be a therapist, sometimes a teacher, sometimes a semi-truck driver, sometimes a musician, sometimes a computer technician.... I don't know why I can't just figure out like most everyone else does at some point what I want to put my energy towards.

If professional blogging was a career choice, I think that might actually be the right one for me.

Starting Over

2009-09-15T07:16:00.000-04:00

So yesterday I posted my introduction and in it mentioned that I'm not originally from Indiana. I moved here from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in January, 2008 so that my boyfriend Marco and I could be together. It's not really an exciting story, nor is it all that funny, but I hesitate to say it's not weird. Although internet dating has gained momentum and popularity over the last ten years or so, it is still seen by many as odd and sometimes even dangerous.

My experiences with internet dating have been good overall. I mean, Marco found me on the internet, so who am I to complain? Our meeting was almost accidental, in a way. When we met, I had given up entirely on dating of any kind, online or off. At some point, I decided to get cocky and write a compatibility quiz to show that I am quite different from most others. It included questions about communication mostly, as that is, by far and away, the most important aspect when it comes to determining how successful a relationship will be. The problem with this is that I was also assuming that nobody would come close to "passing" my test. To make a long story a bit shorter, Marco did indeed pass my test... and then proceeded to contact me about it on August 1, 2007. He didn't give me some stupid one-liner, nor did he brag about his talents, nor did he really expect me to write back. Honestly, I just couldn't help but be charmed by him right from the start. He was... humble. He wasn't the braggart or swaggart that I was used to attracting; he was, in fact, quite the opposite.

At first, we just wanted to be friends. Another long-distance relationship was the absolute last thing on my mind. But then, just within a week or so, the friendship shifted towards romance... how, I still don't know. It could've been how we could talk for hours and not get bored with each other... or it might've been how we talked about anything and everything. I wasn't quite ready to fall in love again, but somehow... it just happened. He turned out to be everything I ever wanted and all the things I needed but never knew how to ask for or get. Ready made, and ready to love again. Neither one of us knew what would be in store for us, just that it would be a team effort from there on out.

As we learned more about each other, we found it more and more difficult to spend any time apart. We talked endlessly on the phone and online. Even while I was at work on the weekend nights, we talked. He kept me company and in high spirits. I'd have to say that the beginnings of our romance have been some of the happiest days of my life so far, although it was somewhat depressing to be separated by 13 hours of driving.

In late September, the idea of me driving here to visit him came up. I was hesitant at first but eventually decided that I really didn't have anything to lose. Afterall, this wouldn't be the first time I had made a long and rather expensive trip to visit a man. I've flown to Kansas and Illinois to visit lovers I'd had at the time, but I hadn't ever driven so far to meet anyone. I can only imagine how worried my parents were about it all, too. They were both reluctant to really talk with Marco at all, but I don't think it was really because they didn't want to know about him... I think it was more because they were as used to seeing my relationships go up in flames as I was to being burned. Like I said, this wouldn't be the first time I traveled for love.

When it finally came time for me to visit in mid-December, my folks told me that I had better come home. I told them it wouldn't be a problem as I still didn't know just how attached I was to Marco. The trip here was long, icy, and dangerous -- my brakes were failing by the time I was halfway here, although I was blissfully unaware of this fact until I got into town. By the time I got here, two lines were corroded through, due to the amount of salt that we have on the roads in the Upper Peninsula during the winter. To top it off, I actually got lost when trying to find Marco's place. His folks ended up coming to get me and show me the way there, even though I was just across the street from it and just didn't know it. So yeah, I got to meet his parents before I even met him. I'm the luckiest girl in the world having such awesome, caring, and just great in-laws, though. (Yes, I know, technically they're not my in-laws yet, but they may as well be.)

The day after arriving here, I got to see the underside of my car for the first time when we took it to get the brakes fixed and my god, I was shocked. Everything was just rust, flaking off to the lightest touch. We (meaning my parents, via ATM, and I) got the car fixed, and two days later, I broke a ball joint while going to get a slushie. Heh. I'm still glad that I didn't take the car trouble for a sign of our relationship being "cursed," although I certainly did joke about it... and I still do. There's been a plethora of happenings that would make just about anyone think that this relationship is cursed in some way or another, but those are also stories for another time.

So when it finally came time for me to go back to Michigan, I felt that I could no longer call that "going home" as my new home was now wherever Marco was, in his heart. One of the most difficult things I've ever done was to leave him behind and go back up north. I cried for a good forty miles out of town, as well as at numerous other points throughout the trip, for having had to go back to Michigan without him. I knew from the moment we met that we couldn't live without each other anymore now that we'd met.

Just a month after arriving back in Michigan, I left again, but this time with my car packed up with most everything I own. I moved in with Marco on January 13, 2008 and we haven't been separated since. Well, actually, I took off for Tennessee with a friend for an overnight trip once last summer, but I won't ever do that again... but I still have a story about that, too.

We've had our ups and downs, ins and outs... but overall, we're so happy to just be together. So much has changed for both of us in the two short years that we've been together with the exception of our love for one another. If anything, we just love each other more every day. Sure, I still tell him every once in a while that I want to go back to Michigan and that I hate him and that meeting him was the worst thing that ever happened to me, but we both know all too well by now that when those things are said that I honestly don't mean them. My borderline personality disorder makes it difficult for me to be the most loving and caring girlfriend all the time, but it does help us both to be more open with our feelings and thoughts. We both know that our love is one of the most genuine and strong that this world has and will have ever seen.

In fact, it burns so hot that it took a house down with it once. No, not really... but the house did burn down. There's a story about that (and how we got through it), too. For another time....

Introduction to Jenno

2009-09-14T15:37:00.000-04:00

Well, I suppose now would be as good a time as any to introduce myself. My name is Jenny (although I actually prefer to be called "Jenno" nowadays) and I'm a blogging addict. No, this is not my first foray into blogging -- how would I already be addicted if it was? I have been blogging off and on for about 4 years on various issues including, but not limited to: kink, music, life, love, history, politics, education, and of course, myself. I am 26 years old and live in southwestern Indiana in a crappy-but-livable trailer with my wonderful, amazing, awesome boyfriend Marco. There's a story about how I got here, too, which I will share with you at some point later on.

I'm not a happy person by nature, although I have my moments. Quite often, I find that the greatest amount of relief for me is found in blogging and talking about what's on my mind. See, I have a disorder known as Borderline Personality. It is an emotional affective disorder that effects roughly 7 - 10% of the American population. My particular case, I believe, was triggered by traumatic bullying and a deep-seated need to fit in. I never have really fit in, though, and for the longest time, I was quite unhappy with that. Now I am actually thrilled that I don't fit in as I've seen just what kind of person you have to be to be popular. I'm not willing to lie about myself or wear the trendiest clothes or go on a crash diet to be popular. I don't even care if I'm ever popular anymore. All I want from life is to be myself and be happy with it.

There's not a whole lot of things that I truly enjoy in life, especially on my bad days, but the things that bring me the most fulfillment are singing, writing, and helping others. I also enjoy going for aimless country drives, but I enjoy those even on my worst days.

So that's a little about me. I suppose the rest will come out as my blog progresses.