It literally translates to the call of the void. It’s that urge to jump from high points in to water, or that impulse to swerve your car in to open traffic. Maybe while you’re waiting for a train to cross you find your hand longing to reach out and touch it. It’s not necessarily that you want to die. Just experience.

(For the record, it really does run in the family.)

Waking Up

First Day of School

Falling In Love

Fighting

Breaking Up

Prom

Life

Mental Breakdown

Driving

Flashback

Making Up

Wedding

Birth of Child

Final Battle

Death Scene

Funeral

End Credits

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Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

I discovered this book in late 2002 while I was struggling in school with self identity and trying to make sure that I could get out of that mind sight of a prison called Cassadaga Valley. It was sitting on a shelf in the library tucked behind some forgettable paperbacks. I recognized the author, who wrote The Virgin Suicides. If you’re looking for a book summary, try Wikipedia. I’m not willing to give any spoilers.

Take what you know about men and women. Take what you know about gender stereotypes. In fact, take what you know about people and throw that right in to the fire. As you watch it burn, light a cigarette off of it. While touching upon the intersex, this book also touches upon the American Dream, rebirth, race relations, ethnic identity, nature versus nurture, gender identity, as well as the taboo of deviance in every day life. This book is not for those who prefer the sheltered lifestyles of a 1920’s housewife.

When I first had him as a teacher, I was in the 9th grade. I was naive and I was ignorant. He threw all of the arrogance out of me and taught me the world. Just months ago, I found out he has a face book and took it upon myself to write him a letter of gratitude for everything he ever did for me. That seemed like the least I could do for the man that changed my life forever.

• 
  4/11, 2:44am

  Jacqueline Lewis

  Good morning. at least, it’s morning as i write this. I really hope you’re who I’m thinking of. Otherwise this is going to be a touch confusing.

  I think you’re my old art teacher. You had many students, and i wasn’t really ever anything that special. so I doubt you’ll remember me. I attended Cassadaga Valley from 2001 to 2005, and for 3 of those years you were my art teacher. I used to stay late a lot. At least whenever I could fit it in with my schedule outside of school. And I was just talking about you to some of my friends.

  Allow me to explain. After school and college, I had moved around a lot and wound up crash landing in Arkansas. It’s a lot like Sinclairville. Only an entire state. I wound up getting a good paying job working with children in a hospital. Not a typical hospital. okay. I’ll be honest. It’s a mental hospital. I’m a psych tech and sometimes I do painting with the kids as a form of therapeutic recreation. But enough of that part. I wound up getting involved with some co-workers in regards to trivia at a bar. It’s a typical Thursday night kind of thing. we show up. We drink. we answer questions Jepordy style. I mostly show up because pushing the buzzer makes me feel awesome. It came down to the final question, and you were the only reason I was able to answer it. The question was in regards to an archaic (you beat that word in to my head in the 9th grade) statue that people would bury in the ground for fertility. The answer was the Venus of Willendorf. I even got the bonus question as to what the typical mediums were for the sculpture (Limestone and red orchre… it was a bonus question on a test) I wanted to thank you because without you, I wouldn’t have known that. without you, I wouldn’t have known a lot of things.

  When I was younger and naive, I thought school was a joke. I thought everything was a joke. I just sort of drifted and existed. You wouldn’t let it be a joke for me. I was going to learn in your class, whether I liked it or not. You challenged me. And I rather enjoyed the challenge. I looked forward to every day I had art class for those three years. I was excited to get that silly little pink slip every study hall to run to your class room, sit in my corner, and bury myself in my projects. I never stopped working on those projects. Over a decade later, I’m still working on that charcoal still life working off of a photograph I took years ago. I don’t know if you ever intended to, but that was another trait you gave me. I always push to develop and grow with my art. I do that because you always pushed me. You were always honest and found a way to be stern without being too hard. In my near 26 years of life, I’ve grown to appreciate that balance. Some of the techniques you taught me allowed me to freelance in between jobs and stay floating even with this rough economy.

  My apologies. I seem to have let my nostalgia get the better of me. It side tracked me from the original intent. I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart. You helped shape me in to the adult I am today. And I use the term “adult” loosely. I still watch cartoons and eat sugary cereal. but regardless, you helped mold me. You were a large part of my youth. You taught me so many things. You taught me more than what brushes to use when painting an iris. You taught me far more than what the difference in the quality of calligraphy equipment can make. You taught me passion. You taught me that being an adult doesn’t mean being old and boring. You taught me that growing up doesn’t necessarily mean letting my inner child die. you also taught me discipline. My father wasn’t around to do that for me, and my mother was too busy with work and my twin sister to pay much mind to things of that caliber. And, of course, you taught me how to spell lapis lazuli You’ve done so much in your time. You’ve reached me on a level that at that age I was unaware possible. Most importantly, you taught me how to do the same for others. Without you taking the time to push me and help me grow not only with art but as a human being, I wouldn’t be able to do my job as a psychiatric technician and a sometimes therapeutic recreationalist. I like to think that on warm summer days, you sit on a rustic chair sipping on lemonade lost in thought about all of the people you’ve touched. Maybe when you do this, I’ll cross your mind.

  Granted that you are, in fact, my former art teacher, I have a hand written letter I’ve always wanted to send you. I wrote it when I was giving lessons on visual journaling for an internship. I’d still like to send it to you. Even though most of my graduating class didn’t understand you, you will always be one of the greats.

  A former student of yours but still a student to the world, Jacqueline Lewis

  p.s. Last week, I was in Hobby Lobby with Peine. I grabbed a giant tub of Gesso for roughly $20. Peine looked at me funny and asked me why i needed so much of it. I explained to him that I can’t paint on a canvas unless it’s been treated with Gesso first, and that I use it to correct mistakes when I work. This led to a discussion on why i needed a giant 10 gallon tub of it for $20. I might have channeled my inner “Mr. Wolfe” for that discussion.

Dear Jacqueline,

You are frustrating and random. You’re rude and infuriating. You are a relentless perfectionist who is addicted to your job and you can’t go ten minutes without checking your hair because your silly bangs always fall in your face. You’re a bit of a maniac. You fail a lot. You have unrealistic expectations. And you keep listening to sappy Sam Hart songs on YouTube. But I love you. And I will always be here for you. I will always wander with you. I know what it’s like to be in your shoes. I understand why you let people take advantage of your compassion. Although I really wish you would cut that out. (Both the sad acoustic songs and the excessive compassion.) You’re neurotic to the bone and you’re never happy just settling or being content. I admire that.

You’re not fearless. Most of the time you’re terrified. Your bright blue eyes betray you when you try to pretend you can handle everything. You’re not fearless. You’re brave. The world needs more bravery. You know you can’t save everyone. You can’t help the world. But it doesn’t stop you from trying. I love that about you.

I admit. I was awful to you. I lied to you. I told you that you were fat and repulsive. I made you think so little of yourself. I cut you. I hit you. And I’m sorry.I never should have led you to believe you were anything short of wonderful. You work so hard just to make sure nobody else feels like you. And it’s my fault. I’ll treat you better now. I’ll remind you every day how cute your hair looks. I’ll tell you how cute you look in those jeans. I’ll compliment your cooking and bring you water in the middle of the night. I’ll look you in the eyes and scream “YOUR FACE! I LIKE THAT SHIT!” I won’t let you work so much.

Know that you’re beautiful and that I love you. You can’t trust a lot of people. But you can trust me.

Love always,
Me.

The referse bucket list! An excellent tool for when you start to feel lost! Similar to a bucket list, it’s simply just what you’ve done with your life! It grants you the ability to look in to the mirrors and pools of minutes long gone and say “I did this!” For me on a personallevel, this is important. I grew up with less than forgiving circumstances in a household founded on chaos and discord. I spent the better half of my year being told that my dreams weren’t realistic. I felt like I was fighting an impossible battle to get a good education and do something more worthy of my efforts than push papers for corporate sharks. It caused me to feel alienated in my house and gave me a strong wanderlust. I would find myself striving harder just to feel more lost on what to do next. GRaduate high school. Go to college. Get a job. Figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life while it’s so fresh in front of me. Having a reverse bucket list to reflect upon from time to time reminds me that I’m wonderful and that my 26 years here on planet Earth hasn’t been a waste.

Don’t misunderstand the purpose of this. It’s not a brag thing. But each person should be proud to stand up on a wooden soap box and say “I DID THIS!” I encourage everyone to try this at least once and list 50 things they’ve done in their time on Earth minimum. Celebrate yourself. Love yourself. Smile and be happy.

Jackie’s Incredible Reverse Bucket List (in no particular order and missing lots of things)

-Learn how to ski
-Swim in the Atlantic
-Go rock climbing
-Hold a spider bigger than my hand
-Go white water rafting
-Conquer my fear of vehicles and go off roading
-Cope with PTSD without the aid of medication
-Ride a horse at full gallop
-Feed a giraffe with my OWN TWO HANDS!
-Learn to play a variety of string instruments
-Hug a tree more than 4 times my age
-Sleep under the stars
-Watch a sunset from start to finish over the Ocean
-Witness a sunrise through the mountains of the Ozarks
-Hold a scorpion on my head
-Learn to snowboard
-Go on a canoe and a kayak
-Ride every single ride at Disney World
-Go to a musical that wasn’t put on by my local school
-Leave the country several times
-See a whale up close and personal
-Attend a baseball game
-Stage dive at a rock concert
-Conquer my fear of public transportation (thanks to Jeff)
-Learn to paint
-Have a small red headed girl look up at me with constant wonder and unconditional love (my god kid is the best!)
-Give birth to alittle white haired spit fire (Dawson. Also the best!)
-Make friends across the globe
-Maintain strong friendships for more than a decade
-Saved a life or two
-See a road runner up close (NOTHING LIKE THE CARTOON! My mind was blown!)
-Learn another language
-Read a book in said language without needing a dictionary
-Go to a wine tasting
-Sit in a hot tub outside in the cold of winter with wine and friendship
-Make my grandmother cry happy tears when I surprised her for her birthday (she hugged me and didn’t want to let go)
-Have a coming-of-age indie romantic comedy summer in Baltimore
-Fall in love (see: Baltimore)
-Become financially independant
-Stand up for myself
-Help numerous kids get their life back together
-Road trip from one side of the country top the other
-Try to eat a septupal Whopper
-Conquer my fear of snakes
-Meet famous people
-Stay at a 5 star hotel
-Start a blog
-Do nice things for absolutely nothing
-Learn to cook (and very well, might I add)
-Register as an organ doner
-Donate to the Gamers Give Back charity
-Learn how to dance (I don’t bean bump and grind or twerk)
-Go bush diving
-See Haley’s Comet, multiple meteor showers, and a star go Blue Dwarf
-Participate in a LARP
-Kiss under water
-Confess my love to a stranger (He was a musician on stage and I was 14. Don’t judge me)
-Finish a sketch book
-Vote
-Go to prom more than 4 times
-Ride in a hot air baloon
-Shoot a gun

As pointed out, I’m obvously missing things. For as long as I’m alive, this project will never be complete.

ENFJs are the benevolent ‘pedagogues’ of humanity. They have tremendous charisma by which many are drawn into their nurturant tutelage and/or grand schemes. Many ENFJs have tremendous power to manipulate others with their phenomenal interpersonal skills and unique salesmanship. But it’s usually not meant as manipulation — ENFJs generally believe in their dreams, and see themselves as helpers and enablers, which they usually are.

ENFJs are global learners. They see the big picture. The ENFJs focus is expansive. Some can juggle an amazing number of responsibilities or projects simultaneously. Many ENFJs have tremendous entrepreneurial ability.

ENFJs are, by definition, Js, with whom we associate organization and decisiveness. But they don’t resemble the SJs or even the NTJs in organization of the environment nor occasional recalcitrance. ENFJs are organized in the arena of interpersonal affairs. Their offices may or may not be cluttered, but their conclusions (reached through feelings) about people and motives are drawn much more quickly and are more resilient than those of their NFP counterparts.

ENFJs know and appreciate people. Like most NFs, (and Feelers in general), they are apt to neglect themselves and their own needs for the needs of others. They have thinner psychological boundaries than most, and are at risk for being hurt or even abused by less sensitive people. ENFJs often take on more of the burdens of others than they can bear.

As quoted from Type Logic.

2. I pour myself in to my job.

No matter what I’m doing, I will pour myself in to it. I will manifest myself in to every painting. Every drawing. Every task. And I’m not content until I have done so. I have to make everything personalized. I have to add a little bit of me. Otherwise I feel like I haven’t done a good enough job.

3. I have a fangirl crush on Sam Hart.

Enough said. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad he married the girl that he wrote such beautiful music for. But my god. Those eyes. That voice. That talent. The nerdy and adorable disposition. The man makes me swoon with his music. He’s maybe 1/4 of my ideal counterpart.

4. One of my life mantras came from Jack Cousteau. 

The only people for me are mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say commonplace things, but burn, burn, burn like yellow Roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars…

5. I’m loyal to my hair dresser.

Her name is Shelly and she works in Rogers, AR at a salon off of Walnut. If you’re local, you should know this. She is the ONLY OTHER HUMAN BEING allowed to touch my hair or my eye brows. This woman has NEVER done me wrong. Hit her up. She’s got some GREAT stories. The most relaxed I’ve felt in ages was just this week when she was scrubbing my scalp after a beautiful dye job. This woman walks on water as far as cosmetology runs. For as long as she owns scissors and for as long as I’m within driving distance I will not seek another to touch my hair. I made the naive mistake once and ONLY once of letting another person do it. It was horrible. I wanted to shave my head.