The Good Word According to Jess

There is nothing more reassuring than knowing that the world is crazier than you are.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Thu, 05 Dec 2013 03:51:00 +0000

I sure wish I had the free time that the people who go under the speed limit must have. I will never in my life understand that... and I realize it's just that I'm inpatient and borderline insane on the roads, but still. Clogs. That's what they are. And not the cute ones with furry trim on the inside that go well with my new skinny jeans.

Does it bother you when my blogs don't flow nicely? I mean, I ask never expecting an answer because it will say 140 new views and only 2 people will comment. You should just say hello at least. Leave me a recipe for some corn chowder or a Christmas photo of your dog. Something. I mean, be grateful I'm even writing... do you have any clue how behind I am in paperwork?

Ugh. Paperwork. In nursing school they teach you how to assess a patient from head to toe (never gonna use half of that crap), they teach you about these brilliant things called care plans (I think I made one once. In a psych hospital. Everyone laughed at my spunk bc they're ALREADY MADE SOMEWHERE for you to use), they teach you about all sorts of conditions that you will never ever see in your entire nursing career and spend way too little time focusing on stuff that matters - like how to be nice to people or how to pick up the slack from the people working under you who tend to treat patients like shit. But man, they don't prepare you for the amount of paperwork you have to do. I seriously look at a patient for 15 minutes and then have about 15 different reports to generate. "Oh, Grandma stubbed her toe? Well, let's take a look and see if I can write a small novel on the frailty of elderly skin and the onset of diabetic neuropathy and while I'm at it, I will educate the staff on foot care and follow it all up with 16 nursing assessments". You know. To make the state happy. They never seem to care if I'm nice or not. Just sayin.

Prior to Thanksgiving I had 4 Thanksgiving dinners at 4 of my assisted livings (I don't own them. They're just mine by default so don't think I'm being all snobby or anything). I had more to add here, but I lost it when I got a text notification that Old Navy was having a sale and I ventured over there mid thought to purchase a discounted cardigan. Stupid Adult ADD. Please forgive.

I was listening to Christmas songs with the boys and Wyatt always picks the "Ranned Over Reindeer One". (Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer). After the song was over, he turns to me - and I can't even make this stuff up - and says "Not sure who this Grandma is, but she's not very street smart. Old ladies shouldn't be outside running the streets". Bwahahahahahaha. He's five. Very intuitive this kid. And way to smart for his own good, I think.

Brief Review of New Thor Movie: More Shirtless Blonde guy; less Natalie Portman. I do love me some Kat Dennings though. If she weren't in it, I probably wouldn't have liked it nearly as much. Oh - go look her up... you should know who she is. You should be ashamed of yourself.

Is it wrong for me to end this blog now? It's not one of my gems, but it got you away from that mail-order Chinese Bride website. Dude, it's Christmas time. Don't spend your money on that when you could be buying me something instead. For shame!

If my calculations are correct, when this baby hits 88 miles per hour... you're gonna see some serious shit.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Thu, 14 Nov 2013 03:40:00 +0000

I haven't blogged in awhile and I could really list the number of reasons why here - in easy-to-read bulleted fashion for you. It's the same as always - life gets in my way. It crowds me in and doesn't leave any gaps of time to myself. I get snippets here and there... mostly at night. I waste them stalking people on Facebook or trying to outsmart someone in Words with Friends. Yesterday, I played a 111 point word. Extras. That was the word. Don't be jealous.... all Words with Friends is based on is luck. Luck and the experience of being a psych nurse on the 7p-7a shift in a unit with insomniac rapists and murderers who liked Scrabble. Does that sound interesting? Scary? Yeah... sure am glad that job is over and done with.

I thought 2011 was a shitty year with my mother dying unexpectedly (drugs. I mean, the death certificate said natural causes, but lets be honest here - it was the drugs that did her away.). Then, followed 2012 when I went through my horrible divorce and suffered name-calling and mud flinging at the hands of my jealous and emotionally immature ex husband. Oh, and I got my heart trampled on by someone I thought was sincere. Let's not forget that. Maybe *that* year was bad. But, never to be outdone is 2013, sliding in to take an ever pressing 1st place. Death of someone close AND my ex husband is being a dick. All in the same year. Congrats 2013, you conniving bastard. You win. There's no metal to give out, but you've done it.....top prize for you.

The problem with losing my nephew is that I feel like it's not in my place to be sad. See, my sister and I - we're all we've got over here in Maryland. I don't have a mom or dad. No grandparents. No aunts or uncles really. Just her. And she gets to be devastated, you know? Because she's Mom. She's the one who grew him in her belly and took him to therapy and found his body. Sigh. I'm just a bystander. So then why do I feel so much guilt? Oh, right... because similar to my mother, I checked out of the Zachary issues when they were getting to be too much for me to handle. Tough love and all that. I was the same with my Mom. You have to wanna get better, buddy. That's what I'd tell him the few times we spoke. You have to stop cutting yourself and straighten up. You really don't have that much to be sad about.

Easy for me to say. Because, I gotta be honest - it's real easy to feel abandoned even when you have a lot going for you in life. Truth.

I remember one year when I took Zach with me on vacation (bc in my early 20's, that's what I did... I took him with me everywhere) and he was the most well-behaved kid on the trip. I don't think I yelled at him one time. He had such a good time getting buried in the sand and playing with me at the house.. and I remember on the way back from NC, I tried to stop at McDonalds so he could use the bathroom (he was 5) and it was one of those exits where they say there's a McDonalds - but really it's off another exit off that exit and then up a ways. It's such a tease. "McDonalds, next left. Then, a mile up the road, then a right, then a U-turn, then go through a toll booth and across a river. You might have to travel by donkey". That's what it should REALLY say. So that by the time I would find the McDonalds, Zach would have peed himself in the back seat. His little angelic face... I'm so sorry, Aunt Jessie, he'd say. I just couldn't hold it in any longer. And I didn't care. Not too much. I was just mad because I wanted fries.....bc see, this food addict thing's been around forever.

The holidays are here and I don't even care. Halloween came and went and I put on a happy face and pretended to laugh at the annual party I throw for my kids and I gawked at the trick-or-treaters on Halloween night in their festive costumes (saw an awesome Edward the scissorhands) and played it up (should get an Academy Award for this stuff). Cause Halloween is my dig. It's my go-to celebratory time before all this shitty feel-good crap starts and that stupid song about the girl buying her dead mother shoes starts playing on the radio and I wonder what's wrong with me that I'm not excited about Christmas and New Year's. Because every year they've been preceded by sadness. And because if you don't have much of a family, the holidays are just like every other day really. Well, really they are about my kids and even they are sadder this year.

God, I sound so bitter. I'm not usually like this, I swear. I'm usually upbeat and funny and making jokes... at the very least, I'm talking about food. That's what I do, right? Make jokes and talk about food? And make fun of myself? I should have taken a longer break from blogs.

I don't know how to end this so I will just state that this holiday season, you should focus on being kind. It's not hard you know - being kind. If I had one wish, it would be that people would just be nicer to one another. That's all. Not millions of dollars or a night with Ryan Reynolds - just kinder, more thoughtful people. Can you make that happen for me please? In exchange, I promise my next blog will be more upbeat. At least I will try my hardest to make it seem that way.

Here's hoping.

It is our job to protect the children of the world. For as long as they believe in us, we will guard them with our lives...

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 19:42:00 +0000

Here's something new for y'all: I'm annoyed. Yes, yes, I know - I complain like all the time. It's what I do. I complain a lot. I eat a lot. I roll my eyes a lot. You can't tell but I'm actually rolling my eyes right now. And I'm typing this while I'm pooping*.

What am I annoyed by, you ask? Well for starters, those stupid stick figure families I keep seeing on the back of vehicles. They're obnoxious. Sidebar: Just in case you were wondering, I don't really care what kind of grades your kid is getting in elementary school. I get that you're a proud mom and everything. I get that you want total strangers that you are cutting off in traffic to know that you're not a complete failure in the parenting of your child. No really, I get it. But it's annoying. Secondly, I don't really care that you'd rather be golfing. I wish you were, in fact, golfing - instead of clogging up my lane on 95 and thirdly, I don't *really* need to know how many people are in your family (including your dog and or cat). I mean, what about a pet turtle? Is there a pet turtle stick figure? Or a fish? I've also never seen a stick figure in a wheelchair. Plus, lets be honest - most people in this country are fat. Stick figures? Seems a bit ironic, no? Here, for reference:

Stick figures that got left out. Don't judge me. It's been a long day.

I mean, what about my Uncle Jim, who has one short arm that has a tiny hand growing out of it? Or what if there's a dead person in the family? I think that they should have a spot too. To be fair, I should mention that I don't really have an Uncle Jim with a short arm (please don't go all politically correct on me and rant about how wrong it is to make fun of people with disabilities. I know it's mean. I'm a mean person. If you haven't gathered that by now reading this blog, you are both clueless and annoying.) Secondly, I have not (at least not yet) googled these stick figure items to see if they actually exist. They might. But I haven't seen them on any cars in the Baltimore Metro area, and frankly it annoys me. Which is the topic of this here blog, and every blog. Things that annoy Jess.

In case you care, I started doing a semi-Paleo diet. I know what you're thinking. You're probably saying to yourself "first it was weight watchers and then juicing, now it's the Paleo diet. What's next? Nothing but grapefruits & cabbage soup (gross)?". I change my eating habits often, it's true. And I talk about food entirely way too much. I also have a weird stalker-ish obsession with Johnny Depp - but that's off topic. Anyway, I've been contemplating all things food related (shocking) and I've decided to wean my children off the SAD (standard American diet) - or as I sometimes shorten it to "McSad" - and want to start introducing them to better eats. You know because it's better for them and stuff. I haven't done a hell of a lot of research on Paleo. I've read enough to know, however, that eating a crap-ton of processed food items filled with fake hormones and chemicals will eventually make you grown an extra ear in the middle of your foreheads**. I imagine, if we continue to eat in this manner, that our children's children's children may have to endure the effects of all this crapola and I'd rather prepare my bunch for better things. You get me? I never thought I'd be *that* mom - sending in homemade organic meat products and cut up veggies, but alas. I am. Or at least I will be. Soon, I hope. I'm trying to gradually make the switch and figure out what I can get away with. In the meantime, I'm trying to adapt to this myself. First, I took away gluten. Well wait, FIRST - I quit my not-so-secret-but-sorta-secret smoking habit. Cold turkey. I don't miss it too much. That's a lie. THEN, I quit my coke-zero-pepsi-max habit. This has actually proved to be much harder than the cigs. Serious. If I told you that I haven't had one of these within the week, I'd be straight up lying. But I'm doing better. Small steps, y'all. Small steps. But the first thing I did with my kids, was start to take away gluten. I could go on about gluten and why it's not so good here, but I don't feel like it. If you're so interested in gluten, why don't you just google it yourself?***

So people are all "oooooo, you're on a special diet". No I'm not. I hate that. Special diets are like my surrogate mom who can't have nuts and seeds on account of her diverticulitis**** & this kid I used to babysit who is allergic to a ton of stuff. What I'm doing is simply changing the way I eat for the better. And you should to. No, really, you should. Before a diet filled with junk makes you disease-ridden & ugly*****.

I thought I had more to write here, but I have to go now. It's getting late and I have to cook a three-course meal, knit sweaters for the children & finish this stack of books on French poetry. Well, more like one course meal. I'm making meat. In a crock pot. Plus, I don't know how to knit. And by French poetry I mean Us Weekly. Don't judge me.

*Not really. I don't have a plug in my bathroom and I like to take my time in there. It's the only peace and quiet I get. Honest.

**Also, cancer.

***Or you could just assume I always know what I'm talking about. Which I do.

****It's a long word, I know. Sound it out.

*****There's no proof bad eating will make you ugly. You know what will though? Not commenting.

You can't run a global network of interconnected cells from a cave

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sat, 23 Feb 2013 04:51:00 +0000

The world is filled with half-ass advice. Drink less booze - red wine is good for the heart. Fruit is the same as a Snicker's bar - eat a shit ton of bananas if you want to live forever. Smoking will give you lung cancer - cigarettes are actually full of antioxidants. Ok. That last one is a lie. There is absolutely no rebuttal for the woes of smoking. It's such a sin really. Not even remotely cool anymore on any level. But so so good. I miss it every day. (You hear that Marlboro Light Menthols. I think about you every day. You're like the man who dumped me).

Only I've never been dumped. True story. I've always been the dumper. My therapist would have a theory on that I'm sure. She'd say (in a Jennifer Tilly style voice, because in my head - all women sounds like Jennifer Tilly), she'd say "Jessica: maybe you are dumping them because you aren't willing to accept that everyone has flaws. Maybe, just maybe - you want to be the one to walk away because you are scared of everyone leaving you first". Or something like that. And then she will nod her head a few times, chew on the top of her pen and write into her leather portfolio notebook (I think it's a shopping list for groceries) and then the hour session will be over and I will leave $120 poorer with the knowledge of shit that I already think about & wish wasn't wrong with me. Only now it's been verified by some nicely dressed stranger in a cold, too clean room with expensive furniture by someone with way more college degrees hanging on the wall than I have. Stupid therapist.

No, really - this conversation didn't really happen. I mean, not exactly in that manner. I've been to a therapist and the office has been cold and I have been $100+ poorer when I left... but I never did talk to anyone about being the one who dumps my boyfriends before they had a chance to dump me. I mean, why bother when I'm pretty sure of how the conversation will go. I don't like to pay people for shit I already know. It's why I don't buy newspapers.

Article about a stabbing. Article about the stupid Maryland weather ("60 on Wednesday. -22 on Thursday. Keep Out Your Sweaters! Ha Ha Tulips - You Thought Spring Was Coming... You've Been Punked!"). Article about government agenda that is biased and unoriginal and skewed to the right (or left, depending on which publication & who is sponsoring). Blah blah blah. You get my point.

Wow. I'm all over the place. That's different.

I'm trying to eat healthier these days (ZOMG, she's talking about food. Again.) yeah, so? If you didn't already know that my blog was about food addiction and the plight of being a chunkadunk in a perfectionist world, then why are you even here? It's certainly not for the recipes*! At any rate, I'm trying to eat healthier (am too!) and I've been researching everything from juice fasting (I did it for 9 days and lost 8 lbs - no joke) & eating clean (which, contrary to what I first believed does not mean that I can have a Berger Cookie as long as I wash it first) & going vegan (which I could never do for the simple fact that this plan doesn't allow bacon in any form) & doing the smoothie thing (only non-food addict people can replace a meal with a smoothie and feel like they've eaten something. I don't care if you put 4 cheeseburgers & fries into the blender, if I can't chew it - it ain't a meal. It's just not). All of this so at the end of the day, I can pass my expertise on the proper way to eat along to you - the mass** of adoring Jess fans who want to know the secret to looking like a super model without the starvation/ hard work. Here's the secret, are you ready? You got a pen out and a piece of paper? Move your junk. Eat less junk. There. 6 words to health....

*I think I put the recipe up once for deep fried Oreos. This seems counterproductive right now so we will just pretend it was a great recipe for beet salad instead.

**Mass = 6 readers

I do really wish there were more of an awareness to what people are actually putting in their mouths. It's sad. The food industry (every industry really) isn't in it to figure out what's best for you. It's in it for the dollar. And the only way to put a halt to the abysmal situation of all things food is to not consume it in the first place. So it has to stop at your mouth, people. Because no one is looking out for you except for, well - you. It's really that simple. And really, this isn't just about eating but about life in general. Of course, I'm no expert but I know what works for me. And I really really really want other people to benefit from my wisdom as well as my massive amount of mistakes. The best thing I can do in retribution (besides revenge, which sometimes sounds oh-so good) is to spread the word to those who are willing to hear it. Not to get all Doogie Howser, MD on you.

So to sum up:

1. Look out for yourself, no one else is gonna do it for you. Stop waiting for a miracle or for the circumstances to be "right". Time is slipping by and before you know it you will be 40 with nothing to show for yourself. Life is too short to waste time. Just do something.

2. To lose weight, follow these basic steps: Eat less. Look on the list of ingredients and if you cannot pronounce most of them, don't eat it. Better yet - stick with things that have no label at all. Oranges. Broccoli. Swiss Chard, etc. Oh, and try to move more than normal. I (seriously) like to park far away from the entrance at the store. It forces me to walk further and it's less crowded with lazy people, assholes & carts. Try it sometime.

3. Meditate. Wait, wait wait - hear me out. I know, you probably hear the word meditate and think of some Asian guy in a pastel robe with no hair sitting Indian style in a hut humming a mantra. Ok, maybe you don't think that. I probably took it too far (don't I always?) But you probably think it's hokey. I thought it was a little too. Until I started to do it. Read a book about it. Go online and research it. Take a moment (even if it's a minute) and just sit with yourself and try to not focus on nothing other than breathing and right now. Don't think about your dishes or your messy bathroom or your paperwork from school or the mistake you made last week/month/year. Just focus on the moment. You'll be surprised how much of a difference it can make. And if you think it's dumb and doesn't work just keep at it.... it never hurts to just give it a go*

*Beethoven was told he was stupid. Luckily, he ignored that shit and went with his gut instinct that told him he was awesome. Go with your gut. Be Beethoven.

On that note, I'm out of here. Happy Early St. Patty's Day to all my Irish friends. If you're feeling festive, go out and have a few green beers. Or be like me and celebrate St. Patty's without the booze and subsequent arrest for public intoxication. Or just shave your pubic hair in the shape of a three leaf clover (just in case).

Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory... lasts forever.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sat, 26 Jan 2013 14:31:00 +0000

I'm having a good month. Despite the haters and naysayers, my Baltimore Ravens are going to the Superbowl. This is after stomping on the Colts & their fancy, new, young quarterback (insert "Luck" joke here); after coming back to win against Denver in probably the best football game I've ever seen in my adult life (I use "seen" loosely here as I was such a nervous wreck the entire game, I had to listen to it from the other room in a Xanax-induced stupor and send in Wesley for a play-by-play every time I heard cheers from the other room. That Justin Tucker is an awesome guy*)... then they wrapped the whole thing up by crushing that pretty-boy Tom Brady, even after his sly attempt to kick Ed Reed in the junk. And even though the refs and the sports commentators seemed anti-Baltimore (don't they always?), we out-gamed the poor Pats and sent them boo-hooing out of the stadium. I like to think that Tommy Boy went home and sobbed into his wife's cleavage**.

*A devout catholic, Justin used his faith to kick 47-yards in the game against Denver, sending us to the AFC championship game. See, even God is rooting for the Ravens.

**That's what I'd do. Wouldn't you?

Mrs. Tom Brady

My prediction for the Superbowl is irrelevant at this point. I can't speak too much about the 49ers because I'm not that well-versed on all things football and, well, the only thing I know for sure about that team is that they're from San Fran (one of my most favorite places ever) and that the quarterback is one who "runs". Meaning, rather than standing still and tossing the ball, he actually takes the thing and goes places with it. That's it. That's all I got. And I could look up some information on the team, but I'd rather wait it out with the thought that we will most definitely win because, well, we should. We've been through a lot and we have the better name***.

***What the hell is a 49er? Gay. Gay. Gay. Surely they could've come up with a better name for a team. Even Wesley couldn't make sense of it. "So the team name is '49ers'? That's kind of a dumb name, Mom. It's just a number with 'er' at the end". True story, buddy.

I wanted to blog about my recent jaunt to the West coast to see my awesome friend Kristi, but I still need to upload the photos & I feel like I've already gone on and on about football stuff so I will save it for next time. I will however, post a shameless self-photo so you can see my awesome new hair, courtesy of the squirrel. It should be noted that I did not go all the way to Portland just to get my hair did... but seeing her for the first time in years and not having her work her magic would just be a waste. It would be like going to a David Hasselhoff concert and not having my boobs autographed****.

Fabulous Hair-Did

****don't knock the music till you've given it a chance. "Looking for Freedom" makes my heart flutter. For reals.

Until next time, blog reader. Enjoy your weekend & keep being kind to others. Unless, of course, they like the Pittsburgh Steelers.

You know, for a while, I thought you were the best thing that ever happened to me. But now I'm starting to think you're the worst.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Wed, 26 Dec 2012 19:35:00 +0000

I don't handle change very well - I've decided. And it's not that I don't want to... because I'd love to be a more go-with-the-flow kinda gal. But I struggle with this. So keep this in mind when you are delivering me bad news or trying to tell me I smell bad or something. I might seem to handle it well on the outside, but inside I'm a crumbling, hideous mess.

The year is almost over. I thought for sure that this year would be better than 2011, but it turns out it was just as crap-filled. I mean, some things worked out for the better... I got a new job, for example. But for the most part, emotionally, this has been a year of turbulence. And change. Yet again.

A year ago I wrote a blog about people & relationships using the metaphor of furniture... talked about what furniture is really made out of and how you should surround yourself with quality stuff. Even if it seems, at the time, to be covered in cheap paint. Blah blah blah. You know, I could link it here if I felt like it but (you should be used to this) - I don't. I'm lazy and unmotivated..... not sure if it's an emotional drain or if it's a result of eating crap non-stop for two days. The holidays are a bust on my psyche. Anyway, as it turns out (and keeping with the whole furniture theme), I actually was using cheap IKEA shit the whole time... you know, one of those semi-fancy pieces from the store that looks like it might be nice to have but that actually breaks the minute any pressure is put on it. So jokes on me. I guess I should learn an important lesson here about not putting all my money (and emotion, and time) into something that ultimately proved to be cheaply made and easily broken. I should have just gone without furniture. Or gotten a hammock. Oooo, or some of that Amish furniture.. that stuff lasts and lasts. LOL. And if I could also figure out a metaphor here that would explain how said furniture was actually just using me, I would - but that just doesn't make sense. Plus, I seem bitter. Which, don't get me wrong, I am at times... it's hard to give of yourself so emotionally, financially... physically, with everything you have and it turns out it was all for nothing. A slap in the face, really. I guess the lesson here is that I should listen more to my head (and every sane person I am friends with/related to) and realize the obvious signs of being used. And perhaps stop finding guys on undercoverdouchebags.com. I'm going to try really hard to not have the whole experience turn me into some bitter anti-love recluse. Fingers crossed.

While I am making promises to myself about 2013, I'd like to make it very clear that my eating and exercise habits have spiraled out of control. I'm not grossly overweight... in fact, I think I weigh less this year than I did last, but I'm feeling crappy and I think a lot of it has to do with the accumulation of shit-filled, carb loaded junk I've been shoveling into my face for the last year or two. I am making a vow this year to stop with the crap diet and do something different lest I end up weighing a metric ton and having to go away to summer fat camp (which, I'd totally do BTW. I would.) Jamie got me a juicer for Christmas (before you get all "what?! A guy got you a juicer?!", it's totally what I asked for) and I'm going to start using it come January so I don't die from obesity/malnourishment like every other person on an American diet.

Wow. This is a negative blog. I have to say if there's one saving grace for the holidays it's having two little guys who are awesome and who adore me and who don't really see all the extra crap that's going on emotionally in my life. Anytime I'm feeling worthless I just look to them and I'm instantly reminded that not only do I make a difference but that I'm unconditionally loved by two of the cutest, smartest guys a mom could ask for. And that's awesome. I'm so incredibly glad that I'm a mom to them.. it's been such a joy filled ride (stressful at times, no doubt) but it's been eye-opening. No matter what I am feeling or how much I have going on in my messed up brain, I still am just Mom to them. So there's an important lesson in that too. i just hope I can raise them with as much moral conscious as I have.... you know, without messing them up too much. It's a hard world out there & i can't imagine what it will be like in a few decades when I'm old and wasting away. (Unless I die of a massive heart attack, which if I don't change my eating habits is bound to happen in the next few years). I digress...

So to sum up.... Lessons from 2012 to Learn & Live By:

1. If it walks like a douchebag & talks like a douchebag.... well, you know the rest. But seriously, invest your time in people who are willing to invest time in you. Life is short.
2. Eat better. It's not as much fun, but I promise it will make you feel better.
3. Be morally correct. Be kind. Stop worrying about yourself... you're really not that big of a deal. You don't always have to be right. You don't always have to be in first place. Just be kind. It's really not so hard.
4. Post more comments on Jess' blog. Cause she's awesome & could use the boost. (figured I'd throw that in for good measure)

I'm sorry this blog doesn't have much of my fanciful prose and sarcastic banter. I'm in a weird place right now. On the neuro front, I have to get yet another spinal tap as recent changes in my every-six-months MRI weren't enough to convince the doctor that I have a messed up brain. Lately, my symptoms have included this lovely thing called trigeminal neuralgia which feels like the after-math jaw pain of a root canal only without the added bonus of having the teeth removed. And it comes in waves and makes me not want to open my mouth to even speak. So there's that. Hey - that might help with the diet. So, silver lining!

If I don't talk to you beforehand, have a safe and happy New Year. Please. Don't drink and drive. And keep in touch with the people that matter to you... because that's what life is all about.

The name would mean nothing to you. It's a place, like too many in this world

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Thu, 20 Dec 2012 04:22:00 +0000

It's the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fine.

Do you feel fine? You should you know. You shouldn't let the planets lining up and the threat of spontaneous earthquakes & zombie Apocalypse stop you from feeling okay. That would be a waste. Spend these last few days of civilization having a blast. Go out dancing. Eat an ice cream sundae. Call your mother. Go ahead, add the bacon.

Wait. Read this blog first. I mean, it's the least you could do before all hell breaks loose.

I honestly have no idea what the predictions are for 12/21. I stopped reading about it years ago after being obsessed with it for a few weeks and finding myself signing up for waiting lists for underground tombs and lotteries for space travel that might "save" me. I got so paranoid about it, that I couldn't sleep (really I never do, so I'm not sure how this made a difference) and between that and the tsunami documentary on Discovery channel, was forced to increase my anti-anxiety medications against doctor's orders. I make it a point now not to even introduce anything potentially life-altering or natural disaster-ish into my brain. It's too hard to get it out of there. It's like every Hall & Oates song.

It's that rough patch of year where I try to get through the end of the holidays to the beginning of the next year unscathed. I didn't buy very much in the way of Christmas presents this year... not because I didn't want to but because financially I'm in a sinking ship. Last year I got most of my Christmas presents on credit (it's the American way!) and this year I have no room left to even buy myself a tank of gas. I get so sick of people making the assumption that because I'm a nurse, I make loads of money. I really do believe that the more money you make, the more trouble you find yourself in and the more likely it is that you can't make ends meet. At least for the average person. I have 50k in debt from school... and, no - nursing school WASN'T actually that expensive, but having a newborn and a 4 year old at that time wasn't cost-effective. And if anyone reading this has children (young children) you know how expensive daycare costs are. Particularly for a newborn. I think at one point in nursing school I was paying like 1200 dollars a month just for childcare. All funded by school loans. It seemed like a smart idea at the time. Of course, flash forward a bunch of years and I've deferred my student loans so much that they actually told me the last time I did it that I wasn't allowed to push them back any further. I'd reached "maximum deferment status".  A fancy term that really means "Pay the shit back, already".

Wouldn't that be funny if instead of wording things so business like - if places just told you straight up what was going on? Like instead of a turn-off notice from the electric company, you just got a post card that said "Hope You Like The Dark"?   Invoices that are like "if you've already paid this notice, please disregard" would say "If you already made the late payment, you slacker - go ahead and make this letter into an origami Ninja star and poke yourself in the eye with it. P.S. Thanks for making me waste my ink, time & postage because of your consistent procrastination".

"Dear Gullible Consumer,
You haven't really won anything despite the claims on the outside of this envelope. In fact, the odds that you would win anything in life randomly via the mail are about 1 in 1 billion. You have a better chance of catching syphilis. Nonetheless, we would very much like it if you subscribed to our magazine/bought our "trial" product/donated to our fake charity/applied for this credit card that will leave you flat broke. Please fill out and return the following form so we can rest assured that your name and address, in fact, do belong on this list of 'Stupid People Who Will Believe Anything'. I hope you like my fancy, extra bold font & official looking bar code that I just doodled on here with a sharpie"...

You get what I'm saying.

Things I'd like for Christmas (seems appropriate):

1. An app for the iphone for detecting douche bags. There may be one, I'm not sure. But if the iphone can tell me if I'm naughty or nice or point out ghosts in the vicinity - I should be able to hold it up to a guy at a bar and have Siri tell me to keep walking. It would be really awesome if the app would just tell me what's wrong with him and then let me decide. "This guy has a vagina". You know, something of that nature.

2. I don't necessarily want a merkin, but I was very surprised to find this one on ebay. I guess if you're going to a "Dress like a 1970's hippy nudist" party, maybe you could wear this? You know, without having to experience the actual annoyance of growing out your own pubes? I didn't really even read it too much, so I don't know if it's used. Sidebar: please do not purchase this for me.

3. I actually don't want anything. Nor do I really need anything. Who really NEEDS anything? Every year, you get all these gifts and really it would be so much better if people were just nicer. Can we bottle that and give it away? It doesn't cost anything to be nice. It's free. Smile more. Compliment a stranger. Gather up all the crap you're not using and give it away to someone who will. Put your neighbors trash can back against the house. Have a conversation with the person checking you out at the grocery store. I couldn't tell you how many times I've had meaningful conversations with random cashiers at stores. They always seem so grateful that I'd even be interested... So yeah, be nice. I could go on and on and on.... Just hurry up and do it now because you never know what could happen tomorrow, or next week. Or later today. Live for the now, people. It's all you got.

OK. I'm done now.  If the world ends this week or I get lazy and don't come back till next year (more likely), be safe and have a happy holiday.

She sent you after me, knowing you're not ready, knowing you would likely die. Mommy was very bad.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sun, 09 Dec 2012 14:10:00 +0000

I don't quite understand how every year it seems like the holidays sneak up on us like some masked mugger at a deserted ATM in West Baltimore City. Only you know, less violent & with more glitter. I am trying really hard not to be a scrooge this year; last year was my first Christmas without my mom & for some reason it was easier to swallow than this year. And I'm not entirely sure why that is because even when she was alive, all she really did on Christmas was nod out on the couch, complain about the food and go on and on (and on) about the cost of whatever cheap gift she had ordered me from the Fingerhut catalog. A price, mind you - that would get exponentially higher in price as the night (and the illegal substances) progressed.

Oh, wow. I sound so ungrateful. Let me stop now.

I'm not ungrateful you know. At all. Everything (and everyone) that has come through my life has served its purpose. Just because 2011 & 2012 have been particularly shit-filled years doesn't mean I should be ungrateful for the lessons hidden in the muck. Despite the turbulence of this past year, I have a new job (that I love most of the time), a much better relationship with my ex-husband (which has come in handy in many, many ways), & I'm alive. Though, just barely. But I think that 90% of health problems in the general public (and for me) stem from a negative attitude & an unhealthy diet. Both of which I am determined to work on for myself in 2013. Because I'm really one good physical injury away from being one of those people that accidentally smothers the cat rolling over in bed. If I had a cat. Mostly, I hate cats. But that's for another time & another blog.

There's a short story by Tolstoy called The Death of Ivan Ilych that for some reason struck with me as having a powerful message. Google it online and I'm pretty certain that you can read the thing for free... you know, if reading is your thing. I'm afraid there isn't yet a made-for-TV miniseries of it (at least I don't think) or at least not yet anyway. I imagine if there were, that Shirley McClain would play the role of Ivan's bitch wife. I digress... the book is about this fellow Ivan, who lives a life of progressively bad choices. He's miserable, Ivan. He hates his wife, his job situation has changed - no one appreciates him, no one takes his illness serious. He feels, really, that no one loves him. Not really anyway. And the book - which starts off with his death (spoiler alert!) and then goes back to recount his life - has an important lesson. One is (at least in my opinion, and this is probably the nurse in me): don't listen to naysayers concerning your health. Poor Ivan should have sought out some proper help (or at least checked out WebMD) before he succumbed to a sickly demise. And two: don't wait until you are dying to decide that something in your life is worth living for. Ivan realized that the further back he looked in his memories of life, that the more joy he had. What irony! How unfortunate to finally see so clearly when you are at the end of it all. On deaths door and realizing the foolish choices you made when you could have experienced greatness rather than a poor, meager existence - it's so unfair!

"He realizes that his official life and his family and social relations were all artificial".

Poor Ivan. Off to the pearly gates armed with the wisdom of what choices he SHOULD have made rather than the affirmation that the ones he actually made were for the best. Talk about regret. Let's let Ivan be an example here people. Life is much too short to waste time on fake BS. Life is also too short to waste energy & love & affection & time on those who aren't willing to do the same for you. So remember this. And for godsakes, go get that rash checked out. It could be flesh-eating disease.

Seems like an odd place to end a blog, but so be it. If I wait on finishing this one, I could die in my sleep tomorrow and no one would learn this important lesson. Plus, I wanted to remind you that there is only a few weeks until Christmas and I would like something sparkly & expensive. You know what to do.

Do not confuse love with lust, nor drunkenness with judgment.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 02:43:00 +0000

When I started this blog a million* years ago, I never anticipated that I'd eventually put it someplace accessible by anyone in the virtual universe. That's why - for the most part - I don't share the intimate ins and outs of my life on here. Occasionally, a little nugget of personalization will slip out for the masses, but I try to keep most things on a very long string. An extra-long string, with some coverage for my personal items and a few turns for good measure. I'm not stupid. One day I might be famous (could too happen!) and I don't want anything in here to be put on TMZ. Oh, stop yer laughing!

*this is an estimate

At least not about most things. Everyone has stupid moments. I'm sure Einstein came up with a few doozies before that whole E=MC stuff. (I can't figure out the HTML code to make a superscript 2... I bet Einstein could do it if he were here. You think he was good company? Einstein? Or do you think he was one of those smart types that was good at pen & paper & math and shit, but couldn't hold a conversation to save his life? I imagine he liked to talk about himself a lot that Einstein. He probably had personality disorder. I could speculate here how much he looks like a homeless criminal from those photos floating around of him, but I've already wasted a ton of time in this blog going on and on about a subject that is both off course and terribly boring).

I'm sorry. I don't even know where I was. Oh, yes. Stupid moments. (See above).

Anyway, I'm trying to be grateful this month. November and all. Occasionally I write blogs about holidays and the true meanings of them (see my thanksgiving blog from last year - which I could link right here if I weren't feeling particularly lazy and if I thought you would even care to click on it, but I know you won't. You're so selfish). Being grateful is so important to being happy. I know that people (mostly the unhappy, cynical ones) would say "well, what on Earth do I have to be grateful about?" to which I could probably supply a million things - but the key to the grateful/feeling good connection is for you to RECOGNIZE these things on your own, see. Otherwise, it's just some other person pointing out something and you thinking "well, I'm an asshole because I can't even come up with the stuff in my OWN life that other people can see". Not that I'm calling you an asshole. You understand what I'm saying? I know you probably don't, because I'm confused myself and I'm the one writing this garbage. Maybe I should be grateful that you're even still here.

Things have been on a general upswing for me in the past few weeks and I can't really decide if it's a shift in my attitude or an adjustment in the circumstances around me. And, in all honesty, I think the two go hand-in-hand. I'm a firm believer that if you change the way you think about life, life will change accordingly. If you can somehow be happier, then life will hand you more things about which to be happy. It's so true.... haven't you ever been around someone that just makes a room sorta light up when they walk in? Or someone that you haven't seen in awhile and then when you do see them - you walk away feeling better & you don't even know why? Or thinking "man, why don't I see that person a ton more?". They have a good vibe. You know? That's how I'm trying to be. Of course, it helps a lot that I've stopped worrying so much about other people and have shifted the focus onto myself.... and sorry if you're one of those people who I've been neglecting, but I've been neglecting myself for so long - see. And that's no good. Because (important lesson here) - you can't take care of anyone else if you can't take care of yourself. It's like when that oxygen mask comes down in the plane and they tell you to put it on yourself first, and then put it on someone else that you might be assisting second.... it's like that. I'm finally giving myself some oxygen. You'll get yours eventually when I'm done breathing some of mine in and after I finish this third bag of peanuts... I digress.

OK. This blog is getting out of hand. I blame all the booze I've been consuming today, my post-Halloween candy induced diabetic coma & the fact that I'm going on little to no sleep. Oh, and I also blame David Petraeus & his extramarital affair... (this isn't really to blame at all, but it seems to be a good cover for everything else that is going wrong, so I figure I'd throw this shitty blog into the mix.)

So there's the lesson for today, kids:

Be Grateful. If you're reading this blog it means you have access to both the Internet, a computer and the able-body vision that so many people in this world would kill for. It also means you aren't dead. So be grateful. (Did you know that Michael Jordan was rejected from his school basketball team and then went home, went to his room and cried? After that - I imagine that he blew his nose, put on his size 14 shoes and stopped feeling sorry for himself. You should try it).

While you are here, enjoy these drawings & such that I found in old sketchbooks today. I decided to take photos of them in case my house burns down and I lose them forever. Or (probably unlikely) some sketchbook stealing robber breaks into my home and (no doubt out of frustration at my lack of expensive jewelry and major electronics) decides to steal my old artwork in hopes that one day I will be famous. Enjoy:

"Fear" is a four-letter word, ladies! You wanna go peepee in your big-boy slacks, keep it to yourself!

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Mon, 05 Nov 2012 21:23:00 +0000

Now is the time of year when I start to feel the overwhelming pressures of the holidays combined with the overwhelming cheerfulness of being grateful for everyone and everything I have in this life. It's a lot at once. The holiday pressure mostly stems from the fact that I'm financially in the hole & I'm not entirely sure how I will afford Christmas presents & such. I know, I know - y'all are sick of hearing about my financial woes. (I should re title this blog "Financial Woes & Food Addiction"). I get it. But I'm not stressing too too much about presents really and for now I'm feeling a little better about life in general, so a part of me realizes that it will all work out. It has to. Just keep this in mind when your gift this year is a card I made out of copy paper I stole from work and those free charity mailing labels that I keep getting. (At least I am creative with my resources!)

I said it last year and I will say it again - I am glad this year is coming to a close. Although, even as I type those words I realize that I'm going to contradict myself. In the grand scheme of things, what difference does it really make that the actual number is changing? I mean, what is time in terms of years & months (hours even) as far as change is concerned? If you lived in the now (which I'm trying super hard to do), the only time that really makes a difference is right now. And see - that right now is already gone. And you're on to this right now. Right now. I guess my point (if I believe there even is one) is that one could say "well, next year is going to be great". Or "2013 HAS to be better than 2012". But in reality, just make this moment awesome. Cause you ain't getting it back ya know. Once it's out of here, it's gone forever. (side note: reading my blog *is* in fact, an awesome thing to do in this moment. In case you were thinking of moving onto something else). So the real lesson here is that you can keep telling yourself that something is going to change in the near distant future... or you can harp on something that has happened in the distant (or not so distant) past with your 'should'ves" and 'could'ves", but really all that crappy mindset is doing is messing up the moment you have this very second. This one. So knock it off. And while I am doling out advice: stop putting that diet off till tomorrow too because the average person gains like 48 lbs from Christmas to New Years*

*I think its closer to 7lbs. But if I put 48 here, and then subsequently gain, say, 9lbs - I will feel way less guilty. And that's all this blog is really. A cleverly disguised therapy tool to make me feel better about myself*

Recently I ran in a 5K "mud" run where you basically heave your fat ass through a bunch of obstacle course type pit-stops and run a cumulative 3.1 miles while simultaneously getting disgustingly dirty & filled with sewage-smelling water (www.rebelrace.com). I mean, don't get me wrong - the race was a ton of fun. And despite the unfortunate chaffing in areas we won't mention here from swimming through a lake and then running for a bit, it wasn't terribly hard to complete. I say this now. But it got me thinking - athletic people will pay money for ANYTHING. I paid (I think) 65$ to enter the thing. Then another 10 to park. Then I camped out, which I believe cost like another 65 bucks. In the end, it basically cost like $200+ bucks to smell bad, be tired and sleep on a hard, cold ground in the middle of nowhere. All the 20-somethings that were there camping (because I was seriously the oldest one of them all) talked about some of the other runs they've done where they've had to go through pits filled with ice water & walk across logs (suspended over mud pits? Alligators? Bags of doritos??) Anyway, it got me thinking.... I think *I* will start my own 5K perhaps. One where you are doused in BBQ sauce & a real hungry bear is chasing you or you get dropped off in the middle of south Baltimore wearing bags of crack cocaine suspended from your belt. Run for your lives, indeed. (My slogan could be: You don't have to be first, but you really don't want to be last). It could solve all my financial "issues".

I'm going to go now. I'm home today with a terrible cold/allergy thing and as much as I like these meetings of ours, you spend way too much time talking about yourself and not enough time discussing my most favorite subject: me. Sike. I'm just kidding. I have some stuff to do. November is a time for being grateful - it's so so so important. More important than a lot of other things that clog your brain with each passing moment & definitely more life-changing than the compulsive thinking of what you should do tomorrow or what you should have done yesterday. Rest assured, people - that whatever life has in store for you is placed there for a reason. Including this blog. So the least you could do is leave a comment.

In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 12:50:00 +0000

I have a bunch of blogs that I've started and then never gotten around to finishing. Partially to blame is my adult-onset ADD. I blame the rest of the unfinished blogs on the fact that my life is so chock full of activity, that a moment to myself at a keyboard is unheard of. It's the same reason I neglect the gym. And bathing.

I tried to start watching that show about Zombies. Dead something. I don't know why now I can't come up with the actual title. The night of it's premiere, it was all I saw on Facebook... and you know, since I'm one of those if-everyone-on-facebook-is-jumping-off-a-bridge-I'd-probably-heave-my-fat-ass-over-one-too variety of people, I thought I'd tune in to Netflix & catch some of the old episodes and see what the hubbub is all about. I watched exactly 15 minutes of the first episode. That was all I could handle. And it's not because it's not good - it's really good. Or because I can't relate to the characters (mindless drones with bad teeth = most good citizens in my neighborhood), but it gave me a shit ton of anxiety. It's the same reason that most of the zombie movies don't appeal to me. Because I'm a wimp. Ok, there I said it. I'm like a 9-year old when it comes to that stuff and I will have nightmares for weeks on end and, frankly, I have enough in my brain to worry about without adding mutant dead people who want to eat your face to that list. I thought yesterday about what I would happen if an actual zombie Apocalypse occurred, and I think I would just let them eat me. What's the point in fighting that demise? I can't even get a good night's sleep if there's a spider in my room that got away... and I'm going to close my eyes with zombies around? I don't think so. Of course, as with all things - I'm searching for the sliver lining over here... There's got to be some good points to being a zombie... here are a few I've come up with on the fly:

- No more dentist appointments
- Money saved on getting my nails done
- Invitations to family get togethers suddenly come to a screeching halt
- Abundance of fat people in this country means an endless resource of dinner
- My criteria for a potentially mate in life would change from responsible, honest & kind to just one thing: dead guy. (think of the potentially zombie online dating sites?)

Actually, I don't even know that much about zombies. Maybe they don't need mates for life. I mean they're dead. (Mates for death?) A zombie Apocalypse sure would put things into perspective though. I bet less people would be worried about tax increases and health care reform. My vote for president? The guy with the most guns.

This morning I was snuggled in my bed with two good looking men (my children, don't be perverted) - and we were all warm and snugly and being goofy. I asked Wesley who he thought should be president - and showed him pictures of both candidates. He responded: "They both look dumb". Which, ironically, couldn't be more truth-bearing. I asked the same of Wyatt (who insisted on giving his opinion too) and he said "Hulk" should be president. Then when I asked him why, he had moved on to the new discussion topic of eating his own boogers. They're not much for political analysis.

It's not that I don't like debates about politics, it's just that all of the information out there (on anything, really) is biased and filtered and there really is no way to know the whole truth. There isn't. A lot of what we read we assume is given to us by some reputable source, but how can we really know for sure? We can't. The stuff that politicians say in debates, on TV, etc. has been weeded over by a team of people & what's left isn't even real anymore... it's extremely frustrating. And some people would say that I'm cynical and untrusting of the government and I would respond that that's half true. I'm cynical. And I don't trust most people - not just government elected officials. I thought I had more to add here, but I'm already bored with the topic. I'd rather focus on important elections - like Dancing with the Stars.

(I don't watch that either. Is it even on anymore? What happened to Urkel? Did he win?)

I'm going to work now. Halloween is coming and I couldn't be more excited. It's my favorite holiday and I'm always a bit sad when it's gone. Go get a costume, preferably a non-slutty one, and go out and celebrate all things death-related. And while we are at it, I guess we can add that to the list of zombie pros:

- Every year for Halloween? I'm going as a zombie.

Do you remember the time we were going to get your teeth fixed and we spent all of the money on Francis's toupee?

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sat, 29 Sep 2012 03:20:00 +0000

Things change quickly in this existence - one minute you're heading into some tunnel full-throttle, in fifth gear... all systems go. The next minute you're sitting on the curb, scratching your head and wondering where you took a wrong turn. Maybe that's the lesson to be learned: that things are always changing... if you don't like the way things are going, hold your breath. Nothing is permanent. Well, nothing except tattoos and Herpes. And really, you can pretty much come close to eliminating both of those things nowadays. Or at least masking them both with heavy duty make up and some anti-itch cream. You get what I'm saying....

I've done a lot of changing these past few months. Hell, even the past year. Just when I think I know what I'm doing, something comes along to nudge me into a new awakening. It's as if life is saying "No Jess - it's actually NOT as simple as you hoped"..... And "no, your existence ISN'T what you thought it would be." And - oh yeah - "THAT life event wasn't as you had previously planned it in your head".... Maybe, just maybe, life is saying "You know what Jess... stop worrying so much about how you THINK it will turn out and just live your life already". Cause I sure don't feel like I have much control over anything anymore these days. And what can I control really? Nothing. I can just be.

My name's Jess and I'm a compulsive thinker.

Phew. There. I said it. I think too much. I'm one of the many people out there who forget to be in the moment while worrying about the crap decisions of yesterday and contemplating life beyond this exact moment in time. Sadly, this is how we all live, I think. Save the few of us who have actually become enlightened enough to see things for what they truly are. And Oprah. She just pays for someone to worry for her. Gobs of money, I'm sure. For the record: I could totally do that job, ya know.... I've got 30-some odd years experience worrying for and about other people. I'm like an expert on empathy. I could write a book on it titled "I feel bad that you spent money on this book". Tad wordy, but gets the point across.

I remember once seeing a therapist - many moons ago after a failed relationship - and I remember her telling me this: when people in any relationship make the choice to hurt you in some way (whether intentional or not), it's often based on fear. See - the people that love you the most... the ones that hold you the closest to their hearts, they're usually the ones who feel the most comfortable with letting you down. It's like they are saying to you "even though this is going to make you feel like shit, I can be real with you and I can't be real with anyone else". So, essentially - you're the fall guy. Which, I guess on some level is supposed to make you feel better about what's happening to you, emotionally. It's supposed to make up for all the bad feelings & heart break. But it doesn't. That has to come from within.

You're probably reading this and thinking "man, what the hell happened to funny Jess? I sure wish she were here". Well she's still around, rest assured... cracking jokes at other people's expenses and drawing perverted doodles into the margins of her work calendar while pretending to take care of old people. I'm just a new & improved Jess. Or at the very least - better conditioned Jess. And I refuse to be bitter about all this change that's about... I'd rather use it as material for blogs, expensive therapy bills and lessons for you readers. Because isn't that what life is about? Learning lessons??

Somewhere in this mess, I started dating again. I realized, of course - that dating sucks. Sure it's nice to get to know new people... nice dinners... movies, concerts, 4-H festivals (don't ask)... but I don't get why people WANT to date. It feels good to be desirable, on some level, I guess. But it's a lot of work and its shitty. I want to say on the first date "look, I'm new at this and I hate it and I'm getting old so stop being so nice and just tell me what your problems are so I can quit holding in my stomach and my vulgarity". Only, you know, I don't say that. Because that's not what you do. You act polite and you say the right things and you hope that someone will like you for who you are. Hahahaha. And while we are on the subject of dating: personals online should only contain a minor amount of lying, cursing & incorrect grammar. I get that we all have this masked idea about who we are as a person and writing "Importing & Exporting Goods" in the job section is fancier than "check-out boy at 7-11", but don't stretch the truth too much. Chances are that after a few dates, she's going to find out the truth about you. Might even win bonus points for honesty if you come right out and admit that you will ignore your date for a World of Warcraft marathon or that you spend way too much time fantasizing about Angela Landsbury. I could build a whole dating website on being honest. You'd have to post photos naked (you'd have to!) and then you could just list what your emotional weaknesses are. I would call it www.truthhurtsdating.com. I didn't even click to see if that really exists. I hope it does.

Well, I'm gonna go now. If for no other reason then I'm tired & I need a shower. Feel free to comment.... and do yourself a favor: start living life. I swear it's not as hard as you think.

I remember grey carpet. I wanna go home.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sun, 05 Aug 2012 20:31:00 +0000

I think about writing in here way more often than I actually do. Mostly because of time constraints. And the fact that I enjoy it and usually I don't like to do enjoyable things for myself. Which is part of my problem really. My therapist says I put others before myself and that the only way to be happy is to realize that loving myself will benefit others more than anything I can do for them (ha! Easy for her to say). I tried to manipulate this into getting out of paying for that particular session - but apparently, my self-love was supposed to start after I'd squared away the check and left the office parking lot. Those therapists - they're sneaky bastards. "Love yourself, but pay your bill".

At any rate, it's not easy having life toss you around violently for 12 months and spit you out - broken and confused... angry at times, even. I'm mostly angry at myself because it seems like I continue to repeat the same patterns of irreparable damage in life. Maybe somewhere deep down I hate myself and I enjoy, on some sick level, to be punished by the torment of bad decision. I also think I tend to ignore signs leading me in the right direction in life. It's like there's a spotlight and soft music on Path A and for some reason, I seem to want to keep wandering down Path B - the one on the other side - you know, the path with sharp thorns, dark corners and that creepy alternating two-note riff from the Jaws movie. That's the one I seem to take all the time.

Relationships are so difficult. I mean, not just romantic ones - but relationships in general. I really believe that the key to keeping any relationship alive is to make the other person feel important (that's the first part) and to truly appreciate whatever it is that the other person does for you. Bosses, take note - if an employee feels valued, he or she will do whatever you ask. If you treat that person like shit (ignore them, criticize them, accuse them of having sex in the break room, etc.) - chances are they are not only going to continue said bad behavior, but start to care even less about the fact that they are doing it. And once a person has checked out of the caring part of the relationship, you're basically screwed. It's hard, very hard, to get that back. I know - I've been there. Once I had a job working at a children's hospital and I had a boss for many years that I absolutely adored. She adored me back (at least I think), we had a great relationship at work, she recognized that I was an asset to the organization and I recognized that she appreciated what I did. It was a total win-win. This particular boss could have asked me to come in on Christmas morning to help out without pay and I would have done it. Why? Because I felt good being there. Because I knew that she appreciated my hard work and my determination. And because, on some level, I wanted to please her.

Ugh, people pleasing. We are right back to where we started with this blog. Anyway.... I digress.

I think the main reason that the divorce rate in this country is like 80% (it's actually closer to 50%, but I never believe statistics. I think of the 50% that are married still - there are probably a good half that would either like to not be married, or who dream about choking their spouse in his/her sleep) is because married life is so different now than it was 50 years ago. Values have changed. People's expectations for what makes a marriage "happy" is dramatically different. Roles are reversed. And let's not rule out the fact that we have the Internet now so instead of watching hours of Camel News Caravan on the TV, husbands can now immerse themselves into all kinds of trouble online - via porn, and online dating and World of Warcraft. It's a different universe now. And if it weren't for the fact that I have a filthy mouth, no sewing skills whatsoever & a strong discourse to knee-high stockings - I'd rewind time (in my time machine!) and go back to 1958 when things were easier on women.

*please do not go all women's activist on me and leave comments about the suppressed women of the 1950's. This blog is done in good humor and any reference to real-life events is purely comical in nature. While I have you here - no one likes it when you go all statistics and know-it-ally about stuff so do yourself a favor and start keeping your trap shut. I promise you will get invited to more parties*

I'm gonna go now. I had more to say, but like many writings in blog-past, I have other more domestic activities in which to partake. Don't worry though - I am going to really try to write more often. No really. It keeps the demons at bay and it makes me less likely to sit fetal-position under the kitchen table rocking and moaning to myself. Uhm, not that I do this. Ever. Don't forget to leave a comment - it's like people pleasing but in reverse.

I was having twelve percent of a moment.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sat, 07 Jul 2012 11:19:00 +0000

It's been months since I wrote in here and I'm sure you've missed me terrible. Or maybe you haven't, I don't know. No one has been beating down my door demanding I write more - that's for sure. No one has complained. At least not to my face. There have been no pleading rants via facebook or twitter (except I don't twitter - and I wish, for the life of me - that someone would explain to me the point of twitter.... I just cannot get into it. I've tried many times. I have. For reals).

The last 12 months have been, by far - the most tumultuous and angst-filled that I've endured yet to date in my (ahem) 35 years. They've been amuck with loss & insults & sadness & a tremendous amount of change... starting with my mom passing away (one year ago today) and ending with the apogee of 2012 - the ultimate ending of my joke-of-a-marriage (more on that later). Somewhere there's a list of significant life events (who created this list? What makes them an expert??) and how they cause stress and, no joke, I've had like the top 10 happen in the last 12 months. I think the only one that doesn't apply to me was "retired". Here's the list if you'd like to check it out and see just how stressful your life has been. While you're there, maybe you can explain to me what "make redundant" means and who thought to include it amidst significant life events. At any rate, my point is - it's been rough. It's been such a significant period for me that I feel like it's my own fiscal year.

That would be a good album name. My Own Fiscal Year.

Where was I? Yes - so I'm really hopeful that the next 12 months will be a lot more positive than the previous period and that I can apply all the lessons I've learned in my own fiscal year to the future - resulting in greater, more productive & even more thought-provoking ways o' living. And really, if I were being honest here (which is what I strive for most of the time) - despite the fact that there have been some pretty awful things happening to me in the last year or so, it's been one of those life-shifting & destiny altering periods where (when it's over and done with and most of the bitterness has worn off) you can look back and see the lessons you've learned. At least most of them anyway.

What are these lessons, you ask? Well, I'm so glad you're *that* interested in my life, Chester! I've compiled this here list to make it easier for you to understand. I know most Jess-blog readers do well with lists (well, and with crudely drawn stick figure diagrams, but who has time for that?)

Lessons Learned in My Own Fiscal Year (Part 1)

- People are never what you think they are. And really, how could they be? Just as we each have our own opinions on things (foods we like to eat, shows we watch on TV, which New Kid was our favorite, etc.) - we are all unique beings and we all have our own perspectives on how we view other people. I'm not just talking ex-husbands either. No two people are identical in life perspective, religious upbringing, moral character, etc. which is definitely something to consider when you're passing judgement along in life. I'm talking in circles. My point is this: it sometimes takes a tragedy to see who you really are as a person - and also who other people really are. Through these dramatic events of cataclysmic proportions, you evolve into something better - something smarter. These are gifts really. Gifts of Wisdom.

Gifts of Wisdom would be a good band name. Gifts of Wisdom: My Own Fiscal Year.

I should get on ADD medication.

Back to the lessons...

- Life is way, way way too short to get caught up in drama & anger & hatred & not forgiving others. There's probably more to this list really - but basically if there's something that is making you feel bad in life (you hate your job, for example. Or you have an extra toe... anything) - then do something to change it. Stop complaining about it and dragging people down with it and just make a change. You're no more or less special than Oprah, or Albert Einstein, or Mother Theresa. Seriously. You're not! The difference is - those people got off their asses (no easy feat for Oprah circa 1987!) and did something with their time. They didn't sit on their living room couch eating Funyuns and updating their facebook statuses to yet another variation of "Woe is Me".

I made this a Part 1 because I knew that I would be distracted with the chaos of my life and I wouldn't be able to dedicate the time and energy to this blog that it (and you - having patiently waited months and months for my words of wisdom) deserve. So I promise to finish this list at a later time (soon, I promise) and continue to teach you important lessons in life (including my divorce story, which is really not as exciting as you'd think it would be) and I will abruptly end now. Because some wise person told me that my blogs are too long (is that true? Please advise)... and mostly because I have to pee, it's 6am and I have a sleeping 4-year-old on my lap, drooling onto the work shirt I never took off and slept in last night. I never said I led a glamorous life.

I'm going to Ocean City today - to sprinkle the remainder of my mom's ashes into the beach. She loved the beach, my mom. Well - she loved Ocean City. And really, she loved hanging out on the balcony overlooking the boardwalk chain-smoking, cursing and people watching. But it would make a much more poetic statment (and less likely to result in community fines and riots than a heave-ho of charred DNA off a top floor balcony onto a lane of crowded bypassers) to put my moms remains in the water down there. So that's what I'm doing. Today. Which is why I must go now. If you feel so inspired - or even if you don't, but you are in a heat induced delusional state - you could leave me a comment below. No pressure.

Oh, one more thing - I've missed you too.

What about the dog? Does he have Glaucoma too?

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 05:08:00 +0000

Blogs for me are a lot like my relationships in life – sporadic, sometimes creative, sometimes enlightening, but mostly something I tend to neglect for other things. Like eating. And naps. I’ve been going through a ton of change lately – mostly psychological, but some emotional things too (yes, there’s a difference. I think). Change is never easy. And even though a lot of it is good change (or has the potential to be good anyway) it’s still a source of undue stress and emotional turmoil. Throw into the mix that I’m working a ton and that I have two little guys to take care of. Oh, and myself. Even though I feel like I sometimes put her last. Myself, I mean. By “her”. You know what I’m sayin.

I don’t consider myself a needy person, but isn’t everyone needy to an extent? Everyone has needs. Sure – it’s great to feel good about yourself and to not care what others think… to have courage and wisdom to be this confident individual, capable of saving the world without the assistance of anyone at all. But at the end of the day, isn’t it our interactions with others that make up our tiny world? Isn’t that the key to being a happy person? Isn’t that why the abused kids who are locked in a closet at 7 or 8 turn into some anti-social, non verbal creatures? Because they aren’t engaging in any interactions with other people? Maybe I’m just making shit up. I tend to do that when I have no clue what I’m talking about. I talk a good talk. Or I google it. If I feel like it. In this instance, I feeling too lazy to pull up google so I’m just going to wing it based on some TV-miniseries I’ve seen and a few articles I’ve read in Mademoiselle and hope you have the sub-par standards to actually believe in me. Oh go ahead. Believe in me. There are worse things in life. I’ve been trying to really instill in my boys that they need to believe in themselves and that they can’t always rely on whether or not others like them or share their opinions on things. Even Wyatt (the little one) will sometimes cry that he’s “not the funny one” and Wesley will say “Oh, I’m so stupid. Everyone will laugh at me”. My question I guess is how do you create a person who doesn’t need that reassurance? Because I think if anything is going to keep them afloat in today’s (and tomorrow’s) society, it’s the revelation of being true to yourself. They’re going to definitely need it (thank God they’re not girls – because they EXTRA need it). I mean, I surely would have benefitted if someone had interjected to me once (or twice) in my adolescence and said “hey, Jess – you know what? All that really matters is that you love yourself”. Also, maybe “bathe more”, but that’s besides the point. God, what an eye opener. Sure would have made getting picked on in middle school that much easier… and maybe I wouldn’t harbor such bad feelings about myself for so long. And maybe I wouldn’t assume things so easily. And maybe I’d be more trusting. God, I’m a basket case aren’t I? At the very least, it sure would make all the nasty ex-husband text messages dig just a little less. I’m not the weakest person in the world, but being called fat and nasty once a month for almost a whole year can weigh a person down.

Ha. Weigh a person down. You get it? Fat? Sorry… moving on.

So for those of you that are wondering why I haven’t called back or texted to see how you are doing or sent emails asking whats up or shown up at the overeaters anonymous meetings(or whatever), please know that between a horrible divorce, a nasty (and expensive) custody battle, working surplus hours at an underpaid and thankless job, taking care of a 7-year old (with way too much homework) and a 3-year old (with way way too much spunk), while simultaneously pretending that I’m doing a few things for myself (Words with Friends, for example) – I haven’t gotten much left over. Emotionally or otherwise. Its seriously all I can do at the end of the day but read a few pages from one of the many books I have yet to catch up on and then crash dreaming of what it must be like to actually have extra money and a brain that isn’t crammed with to-do lists and obsolete movie quotes from the 80’s (and naked images of LL Cool J). (And actually, I don’t mind the movie quotes. They come in handy at parties. You know… ALLLL the parties I attend in ALLLLL my free time). But seriously, I don’t like to stop and think about it because then I get overwhelmed by just WONDERING how I do it.

I recently read a book called “The Mastery of Love” by Don Ruiz. He’s the one who wrote the four agreements book that I’ve mentioned probably no less than 100 times on here. It was a good read… I guess. However, I’m not sure I’m ready to rethink all the negative lies I’ve built up in my brain over the last 35 years. How do you even do that? I definitely think that people in general live very much behind alter-ego facades built into whatever it is they think “people” will accept. And why is that? Why do we need people to accept us so badly? Why can’t we just be who we are and let the cards fall where they may? Why can’t we just stop lying to ourselves and to everyone else and just be? Sounds easy enough, doesn’t it? It’s the implementing it that’s so hard. It’s the guilt and the fear. Guilt and fear. Those two things rob us of so much. It’s also the inability to even really WANT to know who we really are. The fake Jess is so much easier to like than the real one. She’s fun and easy going. The real Jess is actually anxiety riddled and emotionally scarred. Also, she’s Japanese.

Ok. She’s not really. But how funny would that be? I’m way too tall to be Japanese.

Summertime is coming and I need to get serious about weighing less. This year has brought about a plethora of good eating opportunities and depressed states of being (which for me, equals copious amounts of bad food). On the celebrity fat-ass scale I’m somewhere between Carnie Wilson (post gastric bypass, but after her new pouch stretched back out and got her fat again) and that big guy from Lost (who, in my opinion should have at least lost SOME weight being stranded on that island for all that time. Perhaps there was a McDonalds there. They are everywhere). I need to get serious.

Thanks for reading my blog after all this time and not giving up on me entirely. If you’d like to interact with me, you should probably start a Draw Something game so that I can touch base with you in the free moments I have in the evening. It’s also, ironically enough, the only time I get to use any type of artistic skill these days. So so sad. But true.

Ruin is a gift. Ruin is the road to transformation.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 14:24:00 +0000

I'm off work today. So what better excuse do I have to avoid laundry and cleaning my pig sty of a house than writing a blog to please the adoring masses of Jess-fans. And by adoring masses, I mean all 4 of you. Before you wrongfully assume I'm a dead beat slacker who takes off with no proper agenda, let me reassure you - they have foolishly made me salary at work (which is just a fancy word for work like a slave for no more overtime) and I worked this past Saturday. Rather than work a 50+ hour week at a 40-hour paycheck, I took today off. Mostly to sit around the house with my hand down my pants watching old reruns of Married With Children on Netflix. Well, and this blog. And (maybe) the laundry....

I just got done reading an article in Psychology Today (no really. I sound pretentious here, but I seriously did just get done reading it. It's a good magazine. I stole it from work). Anyway, the article was about faltering self-esteem and how it relates not to our outcome of success in both career, relationships and life in general. Not a very hopeful article for someone such as myself - a crazy blog-writer with the self-esteem of an over-sized 12-year old with braces and a bad perm. It also basically said (in not so many words) that there isn't a whole lot you can do about the plight of having low self esteem except learn to accept that this how you are and (more likely) learn to foresee the impending doom of self-loathing when (and it will happen, oh it will) things aren't going your way. Which, lets face it - for someone with low self esteem - happens quite a bit. I mean, I already feel bad that you've wasted 5 minutes of your life reading this garbage. You'd be better off with a blog about knitting. The article goes on to say that people with low self esteem benefit from the accolades of others - that small snippets of complimentary feedback can temporarily boost the feeling of low self esteem, yet are horrible at taking any compliment at face value. For example:

"Oh, Jess. I enjoyed your blog" REALLY means "Jess, I felt sorry for you so I read your blog and THEN I felt even more sorry for you so I felt obligated to compliment you on it, even though I would have rather been playing angry birds and skyping my long-distance boyfriend in Nebraska.". Or something of that nature. Isn't it ironic that we need the complimentary feedback to feel better, but yet we pass it off as phony, misguided comments that aim only to mask what we perceive to be the truth. That we suck. ("We" being metaphorical here - not we meaning me and you - you don't suck. You're here. Reading. You're the best). I've also noticed that people (girls mostly) with low self esteem, feel the need to retaliate a compliment with something that takes the shine off of themselves (ourselves?).

"I like your sweater"

"Oh, this old thing? It's a bad color for me and it's itchy. Also, it smells like moth balls"

You get what I'm saying.

So, in summary - it's okay to feel like shit about yourself as long as you are aware that you are, in fact, not as shitty as you think. Just be aware that you will often think the world is coming to an end when you have hiccups in life (don't worry, it's not) and you will be especially poor at letting anyone tell you that you're awesome. That shouldn't stop them from trying, though.

Oh, and one more thing - compliments left in the comments section of this blog will give me the small, but temporary lift I need in my own psyche to continue to write mesmerizing words and not fall back into the downward spiral of circumstances that is my life right now. You know what to do.

Bananas in the refrigerator? What are you, Puerto Rican?

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 02:42:00 +0000

Typically I do a blog about the new year. About new beginnings, about resolutions, blah blah blah. You know, you've seen it here before. You know what to expect out of my blogs by now. Of course, unless you're new. If you're new, I'm sure glad you're here.... You should know this first blog is free, but the next one will cost ya.

I'm kidding. Everything is free here. Sadly, I can't charge money for my blogs because, well A. no one would pay. And B. I'm pretty sure most of my friends are poor. And C. I would feel bad. Ironic, seeing as the majority of America doesn't mind freebies, entertainment at the expense of others and gratuitous handouts, but I'm old-fashioned. I believe you should actually work for your dollars. Imagine that. Working for money. It's old-school I know... but I'm bringing it back in 2012. I think the slogan for this year should be "2012 - Hey, Lazy ass: Stop mooching off the government and get to work". Somehow I don't think it will fly with the Democrats.

Before I get off subject into a political tirade about the downfalls of the economy and who is to blame, let me say Happy New Year to you, friend. 2011 is a thing of the past and boy, am I ever glad. (Can I get a whoop, whoop? No. Okay.) What a craptastic year 2011 turned out to be. At least the worst one to date in my opinion- even surpassing on the suck-scale the year 1986 when Mad Cow disease was first identified, sweeping tax reform was introduced by the government and smoking was banned on all public transportation. (Ironically, also the year that the Nicotine Patch was invented. Probably not a coincidence as the man who invented it was an avid subway rider/chain smoker*) *I don't know if that's true, but it would seem likely.

It was also the year my father died. At least I think. Maybe it was 1987. At any rate, 2011 was heinous for multiple reasons of which I won't get into right now lest I start to rage violently and have to punch my laptop to make the voices go away.

My message in this blog is about acceptance. I've learned the hard way that you can't always predict how life will turn out. You can play it by the book and dot all your i's and cross all your t's (except when you don't and they look like l's) but you know what I'm sayin. I'm certainly not perfect by any stretch.. and who is really? But I try to make most decisions based on what I perceive to be the best option for all involved. It just doesn't always seem that apparent to everyone else.. and you know what? that's okay. Because everyone has a different perspective on life. Everyone does. Everyone sees things differently, interprets things differently.. not everyone will even agree with that. But what matters is that I know that what I am doing is right. Deep down, I know. And that's why I can write comical blogs making fun of myself and the world I live in rather than rocking in the corner under a table in a fetal position. I'm better than that. And, gosh darn'it, so are you. Yes you are.

Wow. I don't even know where I am going with this. I should have had an agenda when I started out this blog. An outline maybe. Maybe even a small English professor sitting next to me guiding me through my literary workings like some eloquently verbal muse.

I feel like I have more to say, but for the sake of time and my heavy eyelids, I am going to go. I hope 2012 brings you all the joy you could ask for. I hope it's a time of uplifting and success... and perhaps (you know who you are) the cure for that raging STD. Love ya.

Faith is believing when common sense tells you not to. Don't you see?

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 21:31:00 +0000

I was wondering today - why people are inherently evil. Ok, well maybe evil isn't the right terminology. Maybe what I mean is morally corrupt. Who is to blame for this? Society? Genetics? Poor family upbringing? Newt Gingrich, perhaps?

I was talking to my sister at length today about being a nurse (she is one too) and about how the thing I like the most about nursing is the ability I have to help others. Not in a "fix a boo boo" kind of way (although, that's nice sometimes too), but having the ability to touch someone else's life or even make someone's day a little shinier... a little happier. I guess really, it's not so much that I do this at my job, but I try to integrate this in everything I do in life. A few days ago at Aldi (where I always give my cart away - why on Earth would I want someone's quarter?) and a lady with a slew of children in her cart had some runaway cans of diced tomatoes. She had improperly stacked them on the bottom of the cart (Aldi doesn't provide bags) most likely trying to make space in the cart for her babies and the cans rebelled; there they were... rolling around in the parking lot. Of course I'm going to stop what I'm doing and pick the cans up for her. Why wouldn't I? If for no other reason than I had my son with me and he should see that people do this. This is what people SHOULD do, right? Why are people so awful? Is there even a reason? In the last two years at my job, I've bought patient's clothes (with my own money), I've made patients desserts (don't tell the state, I'm probably not supposed to do this) - I've given away winter coats, notebooks, AA batteries, music CDs, lotion, purses... I mean, I could go on and on. My point is - I don't want any recognition for these things... I just do it because I should. And I can. And anyone who SHOULD and CAN help out, well - should. I'm talking to you, Chester!

Of course, reading this blog *is* a tremendous help to my declining self-esteem... but I digress.

I think if more people realized the affect they had on the world in the smallest most mediocre actions, there would be way more good and way less evil. I don't even want to say its a matter of being selfish because I totally get a self-centered rush when I help other people out. I don't do it for them, per say. I do it because doing the right thing is what I'm supposed to do... and doing what I'm supposed to do makes me feel alright. And alright is a good thing. It's a small snippet of feel-good in an otherwise shitty world. So, in actuality - it's me being selfish. That's the way I see it. And I'm an expert on most things. So you should follow what I say as though this here blog were your how-to manual for living. A Guide to Life & Some Funny Jokes & Lots o' Self-Deprecation. It's a tad wordy.

I've been rather poor lately. The economic down slide and the plight of my recently poor financial decisions involving an ex-husband have led me to retain the burden of debt with the lack of proper funding. Christmas was especially hard on me and the credit card I got "for emergencies" has quickly become the credit card for any overtures in my finances - including presents, BGE bills and the occasional grocery jaunt (of course not Aldi - they only take ATM cards. Sigh). I used to be stressed about the fact that my credit card now carries a substantial balance, but I'm not anymore. And its not because I think the world might end in December of next year (I don't), but more because I feel like life's way too short. Do I make financially poor decisions? Most certainly. Do I have my heart in the right place? Like 90% of the time. So I feel like - in the end - it works out to my advantage. I'm not blowing money on a health-loan financed tummy tuck (oooooh, how I wish I could though!) but I'm not making it work with a balanced budget and for now, it is what it is. So be it.

So you may be saying to yourself: get to the friggin' point, Jessica. Why are you going all Suze Orman on us? Is this a blog about budgeting?? Or about selfishness and the American way? Really, it's about neither of those things. It's more of a pleading for people to just be more aware of what they are doing to help out others. And a relatively shallow cover for what the true meaning of Christmas is: reading blogs instead of spending quality time with your family. Just kidding! It's about doing the right thing.

On that note, I will go. It's 5pm on Christmas and I should probably figure out what I am doing today. It's been one of those emotional roller-coaster holidays where I go back and forth between wanting to lay in bed all day and feeling like I should be jogging. Only you know, without the actual jogging. Because that would require me to move this laptop off of my lap and put on some pants.

Merry Christmas Blog Readers. I hope you're having a super day. And if you have any extra urges to buy me a post-Christmas present, I will direct you here to the Herman Cain action figure. Oh, I'm so not kidding. I can't decide if he looks like a recycled Urkel doll or a brown Ken with a child-molester mustache. Either way - it's a gift worth giving!

http://herobuilders.com/politicalactionfigures2010.htm

The three words that describe you are as follows: Stink, Stank, Stunk.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 02:02:00 +0000

I've gotten some doozy gift items over the years. I won't get into details too much here - hate to hurt anyone's feelings or anything. I mean, intentionally. I'm sure I hurt thousands of folks feelings on a regular basis - but when it's *accidental* it's sorta okay. At least that's what I tell myself when I can't sleep at night or when I'm at confessional on Sunday mornings.

I've actually never done that. Confessional. They never had it at my church (non-Catholic) and I was always sorta disappointed I couldn't go in there and make small talk with someone. Must be a bit of a burden release to be able to tell someone your deepest darkest secrets. I feel like I could gauge the adventurous level of my life by how bored the dude in there listening would probably be.

"Forgive me, Father. I've sinned. Blah blah blah (insert your own Catholic garb here). I need to confess: I filled my purse up with the hazelnut flavored mini-creamers from the 7-11 without paying for them and I had really racy thoughts about some possible sexual encounters I would like to have if I ever come face to face with LL Cool J. Also, I lied to a female coworker ("nah, totally can't see that mustache you bleached!") oh, and I also said the F bomb a few times at a minivan full of Asians trying to run me off the road on 95S. I will surely go to Hell.."..

Of course, my first thought is to wonder how many people have snuck off into the confessional booth during a boring mid-morning sermon to make out in the Lord's house. Oh, come on! You know people are doing it in there. Married people of course. Religious married people with strong moral character and a propensity for rebellion.

Propensity for Rebellion would be an awesome band name.

Back to the bad gifts. Ahem. One year my mom got me a sweatshirt with puffy paint on it. Which might not have been so bad had the sweatshirt itself not been white, the puffy paint rainbow in color and the words written on it: I (heart) Jesus. Oh, and I was in 10th grade. Try living *that* one down in 1992. I would have gotten made fun of less for wearing a clown costume. Its not that I'm anti-Jesus. I'm just anti-white, rainbow puffy paint sweatshirts. The fact that it was religious hardly mattered. I know one thing for sure - I wish I still had it. I could wear it to my awkward religious-themed sweatshirt party*

*everyone has ugly sweater parties. I thought I'd change it up a bit.

Well, I should go. It's way too early to be blogging and (trust me on this one) I need all the beauty sleep I can get. I apologize for the low quality of this blog, but what can I say? I'm sleep deprived and my creative juices are in short supply. And I don't like you very much*

*totally not true

Have a great Friday and an even better weekend. And Merry Christmas and all that stuff. I hope you get everything you asked for and more. No, really. I hope you do. You deserve it.

Every year I try to get from the day before Christmas to the day after New Years....

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sat, 17 Dec 2011 12:33:00 +0000

I think the hardest part about divorce, for me anyway - is realizing that I wasted so much of my life on something that was so bad for me. Of course, besides the having kids part, which I wouldn't take back for anything... it's a tough pill to swallow realizing that you stuck it out with someone who was actually the worst person you could possibly be with. It's embarrassing almost. The other day I sat down and tried - actually TRIED - to think of some moment...some memory of blissfulness...something (anything) to ponder and think back on that in some way would make me remember why I was there. And I couldn't come up with anything. NOTHING. Not one thing that I missed about my relationship before. That, in and of itself, makes me more sad than anything else. Sad and angry. Angry that I always give people the benefit of the doubt and it bites me in the ass more times than I can even recall. Angry that I took every penny my mom left me and used it to pay off a minivan, rather than pay down my enormous debt from college to help him out, only to be left without a car and financially drained. Angry that I have to be the brunt of immature name calling and deliberate foul insults because I ended something that was actually over at least 3 years ago. Mostly I'm just angry that I wasted my time. You can't get that back, ya know. Time. I'm getting closer to 40 and I'm just figuring it all out. *That* makes me angry.

Sorry to get all serious back there. You don't like that, do you? When I get serious? Don't answer that - it was merely rhetorical. If I really wanted to know what you thought I would call you rather than write a blog that you can't give me an immediate response to. It's easier that way. Secretly, I don't want to know your opinion. I don't. I think when people say "tell me what you think" what they are really asking is "please, please tell me that you agree with me on this and even if you don't, just lie and PRETEND you do because I'm needy and if I don't have someone on my side with this, I will surely doubt my entire self-worth and end up falling in a downward spiral towards clinical insanity". Something like that. And that, my friends, is why I am in therapy.

Only I 'm not. In therapy, I mean. I have the shittiest insurance ever and it costs me 80 bucks or something every time I go. So instead, I have decided to use this blog as an outlet for my inner turmoil in hopes that it can keep me afloat until I either win the lottery, find a new job with new insurance or die.

Speaking of money... (horrible transition my apologies), my used/borrowed 1998 Subaru Forrester that I had to borrow/buy as a result of my ex-husband stealing (and then subsequently trashing) our payment-free Toyota Sienna has a check-engine light on. Perfect timing really. It's like one more stick-it-to-me in the face of financial burden. Maybe its my Christmas Present from the powers-that-be. Whomever they are. You know - "they". Well that's what "they" say. Well, that's how "they" would do it. Well, of course it's okay to backpack across Northern Asia with only a pop tent and a can of beef stew - "they" did it - so can you! Ok - so maybe not there. But you get what I'm saying.

At any rate, I should go now and pretend to be productive. I have a mere 7 days to get you the perfect gift and since I lost the ebay auction for that blow-up donkey, I'm back to square one in ideas. If I don't talk to you prior to the holiday season, have a blessed one. And that large gift under the tree with no tag? Its from me. You're welcome.

At first I did not know it was your diary, I thought it was a very sad handwritten book.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 08:58:00 +0000

I'm having some trouble this year getting into the Christmas spirit. If you're surprised by this at all, you either don't know me very well or you're not a very good Blog stalker. Either way, rest assured I have my reasons. The thing about holidays is that you still have to pretend to be in a somewhat festive mood when you have kids - little ones, especially - because they don't get why you aren't excited about Santa and copious amounts of presents and gingerbread houses.

*Sidebar: Gingerbread tastes like ass. Just more proof that if you throw enough sugar-laden decoration on crap, people will think it's something spectacular.

"Oh, here...have a really hard cookie that tastes like stale potpourri mixed with cement. You might break a tooth."

"No thanks, dude"

"It's got cream cheese frosting! And gumdrop shingles!!"

"Oh, well ok!"

Where was I? Oh, yes - faking it for the sake of young people and their innocent Christmas spirit. Pretty hard to be a bah-humbug when Wyatt is all glazey eyed over Santa coming (he can't say Christmas though, he says "Kwis-Mas", which I pretend is just a cross between Kwanza and Christmas. He's so politically correct!) Either way, (thankfully) they're both still at an age where the smallest gifts in the world mean so much. Wesley still thinks I'm the best Mom ever for getting him a velvet paint-by-number holiday poster from the dollar-spot at Target. No joke. So this year, I will utilize their ignorance and pray they don't ask for anything with an enormous retail price...it's been a rough year, financially and I'm paying the price for my lack of judgement in the finance department. Sigh.

Ugly divorce + Scraping up to get a new (used) car + groceries that aren't Ramen = low cash flow

Anyway, for more jovial Christmas topics - please see one of my many blogs making fun of Christmas music. You can find the latest one here:

Someone once said that my blogs are too long so this one will be a short one. Just a quick note to say Happy Holidays to all the people that matter to me. And by "people that matter to me", I mean the ones who have enough common sense to read this blog. You people are the best. Instead of choosing to do other things with your online time - browsing mail order brides from the former Soviet Union... shopping for cases of personal lubricant from ebay, etc. - you have chosen to come here and boost my recently deflated ego by reading my blog. It's the best Christmas present a girl could ask for. Well, that and a box of cash.

You know... for a crazy homeless person, he's pretty cut.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 00:49:00 +0000

I haven't blogged in awhile, and well - I'm sorry. Not for you really. For myself. Because I enjoy blogging and it helps me get out all the inner turmoil and self-angst that plagues my brain on a daily basis. That and the John Hughes movie quotes. "You forgot ugly lazy and disrespectful..."

I'm going through a separation/divorce. It sucks royally. Mostly because it's hard to realize that a person you were with for such a large chunk of your life is actually not who you thought they were... this is especially hard when kids are involved. Really, I give kudos to my soon-to-be ex husband for finally deciding that he had some feelings that existed that weren't blah. But he sure did pick a lousy time to display them to me and my children. I won't get into the details on here - for one, I'm still pre-court trial and I don't want to hurt the outcome. Secondly, it's depressing and chock-full of profanity - not exactly jovial fodder or laugh-out-loud material. Which, let's be honest - is why you come here. Well, for that and the nude photos.

I'm joking of course. I don't post nude photos on my blog. At least not of myself. That would be disgusting and would surely result in a loss of blog-followers. And I only have about 8. 9 if you count that dude in Brazil. (I actually don't know for sure WHO reads my blog, but I can see WHERE my readers come from, demographically. Someone (I'm assuming a hot, tan, shirt-less Brazilian dude) from Brazil reads my blogs. Not sure why. Or who. Or how. Probably that "poverty stricken" kid I send money to every month. Using my cash flow to get on the internet, eh? Poor my ass!). I digress.... (it's confusing when I do parentheses inside parentheses, isn't it? It's like blog ADHD (not that a blog could have ADHD anyway - seeing as it's just words on a screen and not a real human being)). See.... it's awful. I go away for awhile and come back to mayhem and the inability to write anything that makes sense.

Is it wrong that I don't care about politics or that coach that molested (allegedly) children or that Michael Jackson's doctor is guilty of murder or that Ricky Lake may or may not win Dancing with the Stars? I went full circle there. From the structure of our country's political system to a lousy, overrated TV program showcasing lame wanna-be celebrities. I don't care about any of it.

And actually, that's a lie. I do care. Well about the government, anyway. But I feel helpless and insignificant in my quest to make things right. I feel outnumbered. Powerless. It's like that dream where you're screaming out for help, but for some reason you can't project your voice. Actually, it's not like that at all. But I think you understand. No one is going to fix anything in this country until people start actually doing for themselves. Read "Dark Ages America" by Morris Berman. You will want in on my end-of-the-world evacuation plan. You can come to my underground safe house, but you have to bring lots of booze. And I hope you like reruns of Sanford and Son because that show makes me laugh a lot and well, I find Redd Fox a little sexy.

See. I've gone too far. I blame the 20% of Americans. Or wait, was it 14%? Well, whatever. I blame them. And those hippy homeless people in the tents down by the harbor trying to prove a point by living out of backpacks and not bathing. Hey Occupy Baltimore! The pseudo homeless have been trying this tactic for years and NOTHING'S CHANGED.

This is why I avoid politics.

I'm not going to keep rambling on because I find that the longer my blog is, the less time people spend on my page (Hot Latino - I'm talking 'bout you!) and also because my time these days is extremely limited. I've got some laundry to do and some children to tend to and I've got that daily routine of deep breathing to avoid running over the people I hate with my car (if I even had a car - but that's for another time). Thanks for coming back to my blog after all this time. I promise to not wait another 5 months till another one pops up.

And if I don't get back to you, have a great Thanksgiving. Dress up like a pilgrim and make out with your cousin like I used to do in the olden' days.

Didn't feel like coming up with a movie quote. Nor did I check grammar or spelling. Enjoy!

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 15:57:00 +0000

I've never understood the appeal of going to Ocean City. I get why it's exciting as a kid - just being here, in the heart of commercialized crap. It's a bit like Vegas. Only you know, no hookers. And a lot more expensive (I'm not even kidding - I could have gone to Vegas 20 times for the amount of money I've spent here. I bought a bag of chocolate covered pretzels and a stuffed animal the size of a key chain at the Candy Kitchen and it cost me 30 bucks. 30 bucks!) But you know, it's only money. It's not like you can take a wad of cash with you when you die. Plus, my kids aren't spoiled on a regular basis so on vacation, it's important to me that they not miss out.

I was at BJ's on the Bay eating lunch yesterday (chopped crab salad - wasn't very good) and Wesley says to me "You know, Mom - there are a lot of hot girls here", then proceeds to point out all the scantily clad women in the restaurant. Including the waitress. LOUDLY. I'm raising a small manwhore... and not on purpose, either. I should buy some stock in Trojan.

Like many blogs before it, this one began awhile ago and will hopefully get into a finished state this evening for all of you to enjoy (by all of you, I mean my 4 regulars and the one person in Brazil who reads my blog. No idea who you are, but thanks for the support).

It's not so much that I don't have a lot to say here. I've had a tremendous amount of blogging material the past few months. It's just that when you are down in the trenches - moodwise - the last thing you want to do is spill your heart out to semi-strangers on the internet. And, of course, I aim to be funny and being Debbie Downer is not usually comical in any way. I'm certainly not trying to be one of those folks who has a different whiney, complainy, facebook status every two days. Get over yourself. At least you have access to a computer. You know, like 80 percent of the world does not. Of course, ignorant people don't bother with such minute details. Why would they? The whole entire world revolves around them.

I don't want to start a debate about politics here. I hate that. Debates. I mean, to be quite honest with you - I try to know as little as possible about what is going on with the government for the simple fact that it makes my blood pressure go up. I can actually feel it. I also feel like, as an individual (and a minority in my hard-working demeanor, kind morals and inability to be a selfish bastard) - I'm doomed to a life of constant worry over shit I have no control over. Maybe I've read too many books (Dark Ages by Morris Berman was particularly disturbing. My shrink recommended it to me - no doubt to drum up some business for himself as it spiraled me into a state of mental disarray). I used to think that knowledge was the answer to all of life's problems... but I don't think that's true anymore. I think NOT knowing everything will save me a hell of a lot of pain and suffering. Well, maybe not suffering. But it will at least prevent me from staying up all night googling "The End of the World" and "How to build a Zombie-free shelter". You get me?

I had another Neuro appointment today. I will save you the suspense and tell you that it was about 10 minutes long (from getting there to leaving) and the only advice I got was "let's just wait and see". for 40 bucks! My last MRI showed some white matter lesions and slight Chiari Malformation (I probably spelt this wrong - go look it up! Educate yourself!!), but the Neurologist is still wanting more. So more waiting is to be done. I mean, worse case scenario - I have some incurable and rare disease where my brain starts to shrink causing blured visions, a half-red face and the inability to stop eating french fries (not too sure about that last one, but I might as well throw it in there). Shrinking brain! Like a sex change disease. (this is where you'd hear a drum roll. Bad joke. Sorry.)

I'm all over the place, but I'm exhausted so I'm going to go to bed now. I realize this blog lacks its typical self-deprication and perverted humor. There's always failblog.

--- It's impossible to make a future when you're holding onto the past ---

And miles to go before I sleep.

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Wed, 20 Jul 2011 03:47:00 +0000

I'm angry at my mother. I'm angry that she didn't take the help that was given to her time and time again. I'm angry that my children are sad and have (basically) no grandparents. I'm angry that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to her - or give her a kiss or a hug. I'm angry that the last time I spoke to her was for a brief second days before she died, and she said she would call me back and never did. I'm angry that doctors shoveled pain pills in her direction in copious supply. I'm angry that she didn't call me the night she was sick - most likely because she knew I would give her no sympathy...as years and years of constant battles over real vs. imaginary illness drove me empty inside. I'm angry that I'm 34 and have no parents. I'm angry that she left so sudden, but in such a preventable way, I way I had already convinced myself would certainly be her demise. Mostly, I'm angry at myself for feeling so sad that she's gone. That's who I'm really angry at.

But you know, I don't think the pain of losing someone comes from the memories. Or the anger. I think it comes from the knowledge of what can never be. The potential. It's all wasted away.

Yeah, so I'm angry. But I'm certainly not going to let it control who I am or the values I have as a person, or the things that are important to me. Anger is such an ugly emotion really. It's got no real value, except to cause destruction within yourself. I used to have terrible road rage problems - seriously. When I had a long commute to Towson, I would listen to classical music in the car so I wouldn't feel the urge to run someone off the road. People who drive too slow. People who tailgate. People in BMWs. But I realized that the only person being affected by my road rage was myself... it's not like I was channeling that anger into starting some sort of shitty-driver prevention program. It's not like the crappy drivers in Baltimore could sense my intense reaction and would respond by suddenly using turn signals or yielding the proper right away. It doesn't work that way. Anger only affects me. It festers. Like a boil. One of those puss-filled ones that you have to get drained by a doctor.

Anyway, you get what I'm saying.

Here's where I could spit out all the stupid metaphors. Everything happens for a reason. God won't give you more than you can handle. Look at the positives. Blah blah blah blah. I know them all. I get it. I do. I'm not so ignorant that I can't see how from one shitty thing comes something great. I just wish I could fast forward my life sometimes, ya know?

There are so many valuable people in my life. You discover this when something tragic happens - because the people who really mean something, who really truly care about you - they surface in the most random of places. I'm so incredibly grateful for everything I have and everyone that has been so supportive of me in the last few weeks. Even if it was just a random email or a hug or whatever - it sometimes takes the worst case scenario to be reminded that people (some of them anyway) are just good. Ya know? Like in their core good.

One last metaphor and then I'm out of here: You can surround yourself with all these beautiful pieces of furniture, painted up to look really fancy and ornate, with gold trim and silver decals... but when you take off all that stuff on the outside,... when it's stripped and scraped down to the bare wood, vulnerable and naked - it's what it's made of that truly counts.

I can't end on a sad note, so I will tell you give you a historical Jess/Mom story - to ponder on whilst you wipe away your tears and sniffle at that box of kleenex. Once, when I was about 2 or 3 maybe, I took all the maxi-pad kotex out of my mom's cabinet in the bathroom and lined them all up on the front porch with my barbie dolls. Barbie to sticky side. As beds. My mom loved to tell this story - as it always induced laughter and embarrassment from me and my sister (she was in on the feminine hygiene mattress playdate as well I'm afraid) but as an adult I thought of two things. One - if your pads were so big a circa-1980's Barbie fit full length on it like a mattress, you probably should have your vagina checked out (plus, who wants to admit to a owning a futon-sized pad? I have enough problems fessing up to using super plus tampons). And two - who the hell was watching us?

OK. Well I'm gonna go get some sleep now. Thanks for being here with me. :)

A Day Without Blood is like a Day Without Sunshine

noreply@blogger.com (Jess) — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 01:17:00 +0000

"Let go of the past and go for the future. Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagined...."

Oh, HDT. What wise, wise words. Obviously Henry had a surplus of self-confidence and the ability to see the big picture. Good for him. No, I mean - really - good for him. He did well for himself. AT least I think he did. People have heard of him.

I've been having a lot of deep thoughts on life lately. The last two, three years have been such a whirlwind of change and I feel like I haven't had much of an opportunity to take it all in. It's so hard to just have a moment when you have young kids...they tend to suck every ounce of energy you've got left out of your soul. So that at 10 at night, when everything is done (not!) the last thing on your mind is relaxing; it's watching recaps of the O's game online and eating ice cream right from the pint. Don't judge me. I'm lame and I admit it. There. Are you happy now? You've made a grown woman cry. Again.

Sike. I wasn't really crying. Nor was I eating ice cream from a pint as my new goal in life is to try and shed some of this weight I've packed on since last year. So depressing pulling out your shorty shorts from last summer only to realize they only fit if you do a back bend with vaseline smeared on your ass. (I imagine this is what I'd have to do to get them on - I didn't actually do this I swear). Ahem. Moving on....

I have been contemplating some decisions though. And why we make the choices that we make in life. I don't wanna do the whole "I should've" or "well, what if..." because they are a wasted source of energy and, until the time machine is invented, will do nothing to change the current path on which I reside. I think the truth is (and what irony is this) that I haven't been very truthful. To myself or to others. And partially this is the fault of my need to please syndrome and the fact that I base about 90% of my decisions on whether or not others will suffer from the outcome. It's totally true. Never mind if *I* suffer. Is it what's best for everyone else? Cause if so, then I'm doing it. My therapist would say that makes me an enabler. She probably wouldn't say that. She would ask me questions until I said it and then she would nod her head at me like it was all my idea. Sneaky bitch!

I'm sorry this blog is a downer (there I go again - caring about what you think), but it is what it is. Sometimes I just need reality to give me a swift kick in the ass and remind me what life is all about. It's not about the superficial bullshit or the what-ifs. It's about being true to yourself. And if that means a few people get hurt in the process, well, so be it. It is what it is. So it goes. I need to get that in a tattoo. On my forehead (or somewhere equally statement-creating that will not affect future job interviews)....

Until next time, be true to yourself. And try to forgive me if you get trampled in the process....