“We don’t talk about the blog.”

I firmly stated to the table over several bottles of wine Friday evening when The New Edition brought it to the conversation. I leave my inner most thoughts here and Frisbee the site link for you to catch and dissect my words as you deem fit. This is my little space, my small spot to just be at peace and hash out the hectic mayhem of continuous hurdles that surround me and those close to me. Similar to that underground fighting movie, “We don’t talk about the blog.” It makes me feel cagey.

In the past few weeks there’s been an absence in the presence of my words. I’ve been hiding more than I usually do and masking generality over topics for you to contend with. I’ve found inspiration in the form of objects, abstracts, and other’s issues while hiding behind a glimpse of my own conflicts. That’s not fair to me, or you the reader.

I’ve learned that purposely avoiding something has the affect of amplifying its importance, giving it greater power. Sometimes it takes that sense of denial and illusion of being evasive to gain comprehension. My truth to me is to not hide and say something if I need to say it, if you’re around me long enough - you know I will eventually. (Right Soleil) Here’s the thing about writing in present tense, I can ruin relationships and situations by writing inner truths here; in order to not compromise err, ah, situations I won’t write about them until after their pass or the roots are firmly planted.

Comprende’?

I’ve been ignoring this site for the above reason as well as the below

1. New Job

2. Planning BIG HOT WHITE Party for this weekend’s Birthday
celebration

limo(check)
club reserved (check)
custom dress (almost done)
shoes (what am i waiting for)
friends (check)
man (er, ah)
champagne (gulp)
kid sister canceling attendance (check one solid tear)

Not to mention the spicy and funny, Miss Wendi, and Saucy Sarah are attending

3. Things in my head are straight for the first time in several weeks, the tetris blocks of inner turmoil began piecing together and shaping connected thoughts leading to full sentenced conclusions. There are stories to tell you but they are still playing out. I’ll have a good one for you tomorrow as we’re hitting up “The Office” again this evening and stopping to wish Miss Christi a Happy Belated 30th.

To answer your question “C” this is what I’ve been up to.

All My Love,
Sass

There are moments in life when you hold back the words you are thinking, bite your lip, scan the room, and search for a tactful approach. Later the unspoken words ring in your head for a few hours trying to have their say without pause. In almost every relationship unspoken words remain between two people. These words collect at the base of a mental damn until you are able to unleash the barricade of tripped over emotions of what you wanted to say and stopped short of. When you’re carrying an unspoken conversation around with you it’s like strapping their hundred and some pound body to your back while balancing on stilts. You’re supporting their full weight no matter what. Then they grab you around the neck adjusting their weight and suddenly it’s easier, like they are pulling up on you, but either way you’re still carrying them, right? Why should it make a difference that they are holding you too?

To have unspoken conversations and say a million syllables with a touch is either plain and disgraceful or beautiful and glorious. I’m not sure – But I choose beautiful and glorious. Even if this is so right and beautiful to not allow a peep out of my mouth and hope the other understands all that is unsaid, in a moment of unspoken language, I know I’m doing something both beautiful and gruesome. I’m destroying its beauty by knowing it might be beautiful because it’s no longer beautiful without the communication. I fear that even if it’s beautiful in the abstract I’ll be worsening it knowing I will soon be documenting it for future exploration. There in lies my problem, I remember to much and forget to little falling down on the gambling thoughts that play in my imagination.

Like so many great black and white movies language is more than the spoken word. At times life can seem endless, filled with belly laughs and butterflies, passion and joy, all things good, rainbows and butterflies. Of course, with age comes the understanding that the term “eternal happiness” are merely words pieced together. Seasons change, love withers, the good die young. These are hard truths, painful truths – inescapable and a necessary lesson. Winter begets spring, night ushers in the dawn, and loss sews the seeds of renewal. It is of course easy to say these things just as easy it is to hear a friend silence your wandering mind in the middle of a bar as she turns to you and says, “I’ve got one thing to say, NEXT.”

Be it easy or not to rely on such sentiment to do otherwise would be to jump without hope into a black and endless abyss, falling through an enveloping void for all eternity. Really what’s to gain by saying hope in an unspoken language is understood? It’s nice to know I can count on you and you can on me but it’s even better to release those words.

I wiped a tear as I was getting ready to go out Saturday evening after hanging up the phone with the Very Holy Mother. I was mad, upset, frustrated, and wondering how the hell could she even think or say such a thing?!?! Like Mothers do, she worries about me. The tear left a vertical path on my freshly applied makeup paving justification for her words. The V.H.M. and I speak nearly every day and now, for her to even suggest I should accept things as they are while not being true to myself is absolutely absurd and goes against all the life lessons she’s taught me.

“What happened to the guy your Brother really likes from Christmas.”
“We’re friends Mom.”
“He was really good to you, and you didn’t have to question things with him.”
I was approaching annoyed, “and still is. What are you getting at?”
“He really cares about you,” she lingered on with gibberish.
“That’s not fair to me, and it’s certainly not fair to him.”

She was making excuses for the men in my life.

“Whose side are you on?”

I laid it thick with a line so ugly you could spread it on the Jersey shore and hung up the phone. Seconds later I was calling her back apologizing and feeling guilty. She’s grown accustomed to the walls snapping up and the sarcastic bite that follows when the subject of my singlehood comes up. Yes I made up that word. My birthday is approaching and the V.H.M. scratches her nails down the chalkboard of my heart as she repeatedly states, “I worry about you being alone,” she pauses, “only because you live in the city, Honey.” I’ve taken to calling myself “Her Spinster Daughter.” I could care less about whether or not I’m single or married. As a child we have specific dates in mind and a timeline of the age and space we want to live in. I’ve always wanted to live the life I’m living now.

My Mother was 27 when she had me, her fourth child. That would have been a good age to start a family, would have been. Life doesn’t follow the best laid plans or To Do Lists. Life’s sloppy and there are days when “Mr. I Don’t Fucking Know” is just what I need and I’m happy in that time and space. And there are days when I ask myself what the hell I’m doing and maybe she’s right – but honestly I don’t think you can force it. Life can’t be decided on a whim or a feeling of what the future is going to hold. There are always doubts in defense and offense moves. Which one will work? Which wall will be the strongest and how do you break it down, or do you just walk away from the situation? That’s the easy thing to do.

Life’s not easy.

“No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy. A motto of the British Special Air Force is: ‘Those who risk, win.’ A single green vine shoot is able to grow through cement. The Pacific Northwestern salmon beats itself bloody on it’s quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current, with a single purpose, sex of course, but also….life”

-Orland Bloom Elizabethtown

“Mike, I didn’t order that.”

Mike, the bartentder nods across the bar, “I know. He asked what you were drinking and sent it over.”

Lisa and I sit in shock, “I forgot guys did that type of thing.”

“Wait, okay just had to make sure we wern’t being taped. First the fur coat and now this?”

“Just another night at the office.”

(drink man not pictured below - only “coworkers.” The office is always non stop laughter and making fun of one another about things like listing “INTERNETING” as a hobby - ha ha)

Can someone please turn the sun shine off? It was shining directly in my eyes this morning as I rolled over and groaned. I couldn’t get up yet, my cocoon was cozy. I laid there for a few minutes in an uncaffinated state waiting for the bouncy pop music to roar through my alarm clock. After ten minutes of labored breathing I pulled the sheets off my face and came to the abrupt realization my blind was open. The light shining through was artificial. It was too late, my mind had already begun to sporadically plan the day. I turned my head to the alarm clock, 4:00 a.m.? I spent the next hour fighting myself butting my head under the sheets, arms and legs flailing to stay under rest lock down. Then I fought it angrily before throwing in the towel and grabbing my laptop. If I was awake, I was going to humor myself and leave funny messages for people. I did just that for a mere hour laughing myself awake. Sorry ‘bout that but there is no prestige when you’re on myspace.

Pure light finds its way into my bedroom as I hastily toss my legs over the side of the bed and latch on to the fact that it’s still to early to be productive. I’m out the door in ten minutes flat droning to the sounds of my IPOD aimed towards Fourbucks when it hits me like a like a meteor crashing into Earth. There’s dew on the grass, a pink and blue sky and the crisp smell of freshly mowed grass on an expressively crisp morning. Hello Spring.

Inside the coffee shop I glance around inherently aware how everyone is pretending not to be checking each other out. There is a feeling that we are, at least at this point in time, we are all important and on our way somewhere and something big is happening here. Are we all riding a tidal wave balancing on the board cautious not to fall and be perceived as we don’t want to be? We can’t let on that we are a part of a scene, or any scene. We begin to perfect a balance between being close to where things are happening, knowing the people involved and their patterns, while keeping our distance, an outsider’s mentality, even among other outsiders. We sing songs of following our dreams and being true to ourselves while lying to the world and shielding that sometimes we hurt. And you know what ‘Miss Excuse Me Can I Please Talk To Jess ;-)’ I’m learning, and so are you, that we can’t always be the heart pumping blood to everyone. Somedays being strong - means letting your guard down.

I toss my disposable coffee cup in the trash, raise my earphones, click on, and continue running down the shaded path.

Sunday afternoon my brother and I were driving home from my niece’s birthday party. His wife and children were in the minivan while he and I were having a heart to heart talk. The twenty minute car ride was more than that, it was one of those talks that take years to build a level of comfort, trust, meaning, understanding, and make your skin crawl because he gets you like not many others do. He sees straight through the words I use and understands the deeper meaning,

“You’ve really been protecting yourself lately. I caught up on your site and it’s extremely enigmatic lately. I haven’t been reading regularly because I’ve been busy, but I caught up. You sound sad and confused.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s the way I block others out”

“Like saying you have a fear of commitment.”

“Shut it. I can’t even commit to drapery. Then I’d have to design a whole room around the curtains. “

“There you go again, stop protecting yourself and just let down the walls.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is.”

We pass the conversation into work and me explaining my new job. We climb out of the car while I declare, “Yes it’s a word. I didn’t make that one up.”

On my way back into the city I began thinking, ‘when does letting down walls become easy, how do you know when the timing is right?’ I can try to force them down and just BE but when I do, it comes out as one jumbled mess of miscommunication. I can try funny, or maudlin, or succinct and to the point, uninflected, sad, angry, and inspirational. You tell me how to do it and I’ll try. It’s all there, all these things at once, so it’s up to you Brother. You choose, you pick. Give me something. Quid pro quo. I promise to try, you know I will. I will be not sad, but hopeful. I will be the conduit and the beating heart. I am the common multiplier for 200 thousand. I am the perfect amalgam. I was born of both stability and chaos. I have seen everything and nothing. I’ve lived a hundred years and never lived a day. I am emboldened by youth, unfettered and hopeful, though inextricably tied to the past and future – I’m trying to do both. I’m not extraordinary, just me and the reality of the life I know. I am bursting with the hopes of a generation; their hopes soar through me and the written word. Their hopes soar in me as I fight against a hardening heart and say things like, “I’m not bringing my past to this, to us,” because the past has nothing to do with my today.

Can you understand this? I am a pitfall and monstrous, I know. I made this. It has nothing to do with my parents, it’s the creation and product of my environment. An inspiration and cautionary tale. Can you see that I represent our generation? I am a mortal omnivore born of the suburban vacuum + idleness + television + tabloids + Catholicism + alcoholism + fashion. I am TODAY in Neutrogena hair serum trying to strap down the fly away’s with every product I can get my hands on. I am rootless ripped from all foundations, an orphan raising an orphan wanting to take it with items I’ve designed over the years. I have nothing but my friends and my family. I need community, I need feedback, I need love, connection, and I need GIVE AND TAKE. I bleed when people need me and melt the moment I walk through the door as my nieces and nephews yell my name and wrap their tiny arms around me.

I need to know i’m wanted, and that’s real.

I will prove to you through my stories and the angst you hear in the words you read that I will try to stand before you feeble and strong. Something bad will happen because I’ve seen this many times and you’ve heard the stories. We only have so much time on Earth, that sounds ridiculous but what if I was swallowed in a sinkhole on the way to the gym?

I’m just sayin’ it could happen.

More later

It caught me by surprise. I nearly dropped every item in my arms while trying to avoid walking into a wall simultaneously. Tonight, it is beautiful and grand. Tonight, it is my everything and the just out of reach dreams I run to. It’s there in the sky, if I stretch long enough, work hard enough, and play the cards correctly, it’s in my sight. I’ll wrangle it in. I wonder if you see your aspirations the same way when you stare at a full moon on a cool spring evening. The visual sits like a weight on my chest raising my core temperature and resting in my lungs. “Cough. Cough.” I wipe a tear and am reminded of how small I am in this great big world.

Once again I’m seeking solace in a coffee shop of the non chain variety. Scoff, I know. It’s not Starbucks? No, it’s much more…average and quaint. The Daily Grind. At the moment I’m looking at a woman who is roughly thirty-one. An actual woman-woman who is smart with a Minnesota accent, I think. She has long blonde hair and is ordering a decaf while I become inherently aware of her laugh lines. They make me question my own. I’ve seen her before. She wears a Kanga beret of a blue hue, even though her expressions show nothing of the color. Her motivations for being here this evening are unclear. She’s quiet and waiting on her coffee. She stares around the room with eyes darting from corner to corner seeking a friendly strangers smile. We catch eyes, I smile back and retreat. Under normal conditions I revert to the safety of my Linus Blanket a.k.a. my Blackberry. Apparently, I left my former company for all the right reasons. They turned my phone off after promising they would wait until next week after the number had been transferred. Humph! Me without a phone is like the church without a Pope. Seriously. I’m living on email. Lovely. So now, when she and I catch eyes, I seek refuge in the pages of black and white company and Toshiba Notebook Touch Screens. I shield my eyes allowing my hair to fall quietly across my face in a firey fashion ignoring my own curiosity of the world she lives in. Is hers better than the one I know or only different. I choose different.

Is she going out? Where? On a Tuesday? A lover’s, a friends, or just like me?

Tonight I just wanted to be out. I didn’t really care where. I have things to study and mull over. Sometimes, I get a little to manic about being out. A little overeager, laughing too much, drinking too quickly, ordering another a half hour too soon, okay I’m hoping during the process for something good to happen and looking for something to make the night count and justify all my black and white worries. That’s hard to write right now for more reasons than one.

My eyes hesitate to refocus as I stare out the window regaining clarity in the evening. I see a beautiful moon in the sky and accept this moment knowing I can’t phone home on a shutoff Blackberry, but this here and now of rested solitude I take with me.

Now go look at the moon.

One more thing, L.F.C is back! Show her some love.

There’s something I should tell you. My Mother taught me to put on a smile before I walk out the door. “It’s the best thing a woman can wear.” I try my best to slap it on every day, some days it’s less and blends with the belt.

How I wish I could surrender my soul;
Shed the clothes that become my skin;
See the liar that burns within my needing.
How I wish I’d chosen darkness from cold.
How I wish I had screamed out loud,
Instead I’ve found no meaning.

This morning I was sitting around a table when someone asked a question about my past.

B: “Yeah, I can see you as a California girl.”
J: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
K “And there’s the Jersey.”

No. That would be crass

Instead of lamenting the end of an unmediated experience, I will celebrate it; revel in the simultaneous living of an experience and its dozen or so echoes in life, living, art, history, and connecting with people. It’s about respect and the way someone makes you feel. A +. About yourself and the echoes that resonate through the halls of your existence. It’s not about being cheaper, but making an experience richer, aha!

There is that thing, that man, that event, those amazing friends, my best guy friend “The New Edition”, my gurl Ronda, my endearing family, and knowing this is what I call my life. Its chalk full of people I love and those who love me who say things like,

J: “What if I fall flat on my face?”
Kristina: “Don’t do that, you could break a heel. You just bought these great new shoes and Honey, I just got a manicure. I can’t pick you up.”

What she meant was much deeper placed inside a joke in a random conversation on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s being much more layered, cultured, and understanding what’s going on beneath the surface of things. However, it’s also about touching the core and, there you have it. The first experience of a heart in turmoil in the New Year. Bite me, (yeah that’s my Jersey). The echoes of me.

I guess it’s time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I’ve heard what they say, but I’m not here for trouble.
It’s more than just words: it’s just tears and rain.

Here’s the thing about relationships whether it be work, dating, marriage, family, or any other random happenstance. They look prettier from the outside and what’s inside is different than it seems. When questioned about my life, I know to put on a happy face and structure the world to believe everything is right. Growing up we moved around a lot. I went to three different high schools in three different states. No whining was allowed and there was no room for being weak. “Adjust” and “Buck up” my Mother retorted to the contraction of our childish whiny voices. This past weekend was different. I found myself being the person I never knew I was or could be and echoing a me, I never knew yet fear. Then I heard that voice. Don’t give this situation power to control you. You’re stronger than this and can deal with the world. I mean, that’s what My Space is for.

How I wish I could walk through the doors of my mind;
Hold memory close at hand,
Help me understand the years.
How I wish I could choose between Heaven and Hell.
How I wish I would save my soul.
I’m so cold from fear.

It’s numbing not edifying, almost ramifying. These events – I’ve been there and done that. Huh! And there are the echoes of this feeling, being aware of its presence, and the enrichment a few years brings. Hardly my first, we’re not going to use the “R” word. The one that starts with a “RE” as in repeat and ends in “SHIP” like two passing in the night. Not that word. I freak on that word. It’s to permanent and resonates everything that’s now and nothing what tomorrow defines.

I’ve learned to embrace the echoes as enrichment, recognize their value and the messages they scream. We all have the ability to be weak and act as you would normally deem unacceptable in both life experience and fodder. That’s real and undeniable. It’s just another experience that can be checked off like skydiving, driving cross country, falling in love, taking a year off, and living life loudly.

I guess it’s time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I’ve heard what they say, but I’m not here for trouble.
Far, far away; find comfort in pain.
All pleasure’s the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
It’s more than just words: it’s just tears and rain.

I’m aware of the dangers of self-consciousness but, at the same time, I’ll be plowing through the fog of all these echoes, through mixed metaphors, noise, and will try to show the core what can’t be articulated.

Deal.

Sitting at brunch with friends Sunday afternoon Erin asked,

“What’s new?”

J: “Everything”

It’s been a whirlwind of the last few weeks. Whirl as in I’ve been turned upside down, spun around, hit the ground, and stood back up. It’s going to take today to shake a corporate ground and start a new one. I’m resigning from my job today.

I have a story or twelve for you in the works but i need to handle today and make it to the gym at some point. Bare with me, it will be worth it.