Hmm

Love seems sort of like... gambling or something. Like, since there's no way for us to download another person's feelings or thoughts, and neither of those can be adequately expressed through words, we can never be 100% sure if there's something better than what we feel and think now. You feel stronger about one person than you have about anyone else, but what if you're just way behind in experience, and actually what you feel is only like 15% of the highest extent of love you are capable of feeling. But you don't know that, so you marry the person you feel the strongest for, and after 20 years or so, you meet that person who you were supposed to be with, the one for whom you feel the highest capacity of love that you can ever feel for any human being. What then? I feel like to say you love someone, and to marry them, you're saying "I know that I will never feel more about a person than I feel for you." And I know feelings come and go, and the honeymoon period ends and all that, but some small piece of that feeling should never go away, I think... and what if you get into it with this person, believing with all your honest heart that you love them as much as you will ever love anyone, and it turns out that you don't? That there is someone else out there. You didn't know, and it doesn't mean that the 15% capacity you felt for the original person is any less.. it's just that THIS person, you can feel 100% for. I don't know. Blah. It's not that the original person was lacking in any way... you honestly thought and felt that was what love was. =/ What then?

One step forward, two steps back

In my last post I talked about finally surfacing out of a depression and trying to put my life back together. I really did try, I feel... I wrote two letters, organized all my swapping stuff into piles, contacted many people about things that needed to get done, bought postage to work on it all, and BEGAN the great process of sifting through all of this...

When my mom called. NEVER a good sign.

Technically it wasn't her that called, because the last time we spoke turned into a yelling match in which she told me to not come home again unless I'm willing to be all happy and friendly with her instead of acting out how I truly feel. It's honestly easier to just NOT come at all.

Anyway. She decided to send my dad as a messenger, since, in her words, "she listens to you!!" Dad informed her I don't listen to anyone (ha!) but he would try.

Basically, my mother does not approve of my getting married. She is going to employ her usual tactics of having an issue with every. little. thing. every step of the way, when really, none of that stuff matters, but she is either not willing or doesn't know HOW to talk to me about what really matters. She's mad about the way I got engaged, the style of dress I have chosen, the fact that I'm having it in Springfield (where I live) instead of Kansas City (where she lives)... she's mad that I have "kicked her out" of the planning, blah blah blah... she's especially mad that the entire event is not going the way she wanted it to.

Her vision: My fiance and I will "court" (not date!) for several years, most of the that courting is spent with the parents within arms' length. During this time, I live at home with my best friend - my mother - and we frolic in the sunshine, while he graduates college and gets a high-paying job (instantly, of course) as a lawyer or a CEO or something. Then, he will purchase us a house. He will ask my father for my hand in marriage, and after a grueling conversation about how he plans to "take care of my daughter," he will be allowed to propose. (I'm sure she wanted to be there for the proposal or something, though she never mentioned it) We will then have a long engagement, during which time my mother will plan the entire wedding for me, and I will walk down the aisle with BOTH parents (like she did!) instead of just my dad, and I will run off and live wealthy ever after - I mean happily. Yes. Happily.

Reality: My fiance is still in college. I just graduated at the age of 21, and at my 21st birthday party (the weekend I moved into my first apartment, 3 hours away from home) my fiance proposed, with just my friends present, in the sweetest way possible (the ring was inside a pinata). I immediately called my parents, who were both on the line when I told them, squealing with happiness, that I was engaged (they really didn't express any happiness whatsoever, just sort of said "uhhh congrats? I'll let you get back to your party...."). We plan on getting married the following year, in the city where we will have spent the last 4 years of our lives. All the planning has been done with my bridesmaids, in a flurry of giggles and joy. I want to be a writer, and my fiance wants to film movies. For quite some time, neither of us plan on making any real money, and if we are never rich, we will never be disappointed.

The only point that my parents made that had any real value to it was the fact that I don't have a job (even though I have been trying as hard as I can for the past 4 months, applying at every single place I can think of). The only way we're surviving is through a combination of student loans, selling stuff on amazon, generous parents, and my fiance's work-study job that gives him very little. In light of that, I've decided if I can't find a job by December, I'm calling off the wedding and preparing for a life of living out of my car. Moving back in with my mother *cough* I mean family, is never. going. to. happen. I will be homeless before I do that.

So... after that phone call, and the following phone calls about how I remain jobless, and the depressing fact that I wake up every morning and have nothing to do but get rejected by every business in the entire city... I basically swirled instantly back into depression, which this time manifested itself as me sitting in front of my laptop watching thousands of movies, due to my new free trial of Netflix. I don't sleep. I don't eat healthy food. I don't bathe half the time because why the heck should I bother? Not like I have anywhere to go. I get rejection via email AND the mail... once they start CALLING me to reject me, I will have absolutely no safe communication device.

It's not like that's any different than it has been for the last few months, but somehow my mind had forgotten about supporting myself, and just skipped straight to the wedding, and I had so much fun planning it and choosing things... we hadn't actually bought anything or paid any deposits, because we were still trying to figure everything out... the possibilities were endless! I could do whatever I wanted! It was amazing. But now that I have fully realized the fact that there may not even be a wedding, I have absolutely NOTHING to look forward to.

I'm beginning to do all this wondering about like... what is the point of life? I'm supposed to go out and fulfill my dreams, but none of my dreams are ever going to happen if I can't master the mundane crap first!

Ugh. At least I have school. Sort of. I have 2 more classes before I finish my degree, both are American Literature classes, which I have attempted to take TWICE before (I can't STAND American literature). Both of mine are online/distance-learning courses. Which, on the down side, means they are incredibly easy to COMPLETELY FORGET ABOUT, since you don't have to attend class, and none of your friends go and ask you where you were and etc. On the plus side... at least it's not like a math class or anything. Even though I don't like AMERICAN literature (at least not the really early stuff, which is 90% of the class. It gets good once we hit the 19th century. Well sort of. I can't stand Hemingway. Or Steinbeck. Oh eff I'm SCREWED.) I still like literature... surely it's not ALL terrible!?

Recently it feels like all I want to do is scream and break things, but that would mean the neighbors would bang on the walls and then I'd have to clean up the crap I broke. Ugh.

Sigh. So really, I made a small flail of an attempt to fix things, but life came up and bit me in the ass and stopped all my attempts at flailing. :(

-Jesse

EDIT: Also, on top of everything else, my fiance and I had romantic plans for this weekend and I got my period. Well, there goes that.

My debt. Hmm.

Let me tell you a story.

I was super depressed (is this news to anyone...) for about 6 months, from the end of Fall Semester 2009 to the end of Spring Semester 2010 (roughly). I feel like I'm coming out of that, though bits of it linger... but during that time, I accumulated quite a bit of debt. Not like monetary debt (although I did fall for a in-store credit card, forgot about a $15 charge, that turned into a $70 charge. *shudders* But moving on). I guess it's more social debt? I dunno.

I was depressed and wanted to be happy, so I signed up for things and took on a lot of projects, almost compulsively, to make myself happy. Not quite an addiction, but certainly not healthy. I was into swapping, book trading, penpalling... lots of stuff. There are these things called tags. It's like a giant list, with a theme. The theme might be "Send 2 things on the person's list, then make your own list and post it here." You claim the last person on the list, mail them stuff, and then put up your own list for someone to claim things from.

Well, I would sign up for tooooons of these. I did it on like 3 different websites... plus I arranged for swaps, joined things... started book trades, signed up for penpals and little lotteries where people sent me postcards and stickers... I even organized elaborate contests and swaps, then didn't have enough to keep it going, and it would fall apart. I didn't sign up for these things with the INTENTION of not fulfilling them. I actually STILL have staaaacks of envelopes sitting in my room full of stuff to send to people. I honestly intended to follow through. But I didn't have the money, or I didn't have the emotional energy, to keep it up. I took on way more than I could.

Not to mention starting projects with people that didn't involve any actual physical objects. I told people I'd read their stories and then get halfway through and leave them hanging. I get nasty emails about once a week from various people wondering where I've gone. It's a mess.

While I've stopped doing that, and have learned to only take on small amounts of work I know I can do, and other healthy strategies... I haven't dealt with this large amount of social debt (sure let's call it that) that I've accumulated. I have... *counts* 20 letters sitting here that I never replied to. I meant to reply. Some of them I even started replying.... but in the end, I never did. I was failing my classes, barely able to handle my job, trying to deal with personal drama, personal issues, the pressure of graduating.... PLUS I was moving from my dorm to my apartment in the midst of all this, so only NOW have I managed to regather all the stuff into one pile (instead of it all being strung out all over the apartment like it has been the last 3 months).

My grandpa died recently and I was struck by how hardworking he was... and how he accomplished so much because he put forth the effort to try. I tend to not put forth much effort for anything anymore.

So, in this large process of trying to fix everything I screwed up while completely out of it, and trying to put into practice healthy habits that will see me through to a life I want, I've decided that the only way I can truly be free of all this debt that actually weighs heavily on my heart. One thing in particular is this toy animal that someone sent me, and I was supposed to take pictures of it then send it back. They send me letters, facebook messages, emails, etc. probably on a weekly basis trying to get me to send the toy onwards. I've put it off for so long because of two reasons. 1) I lost the little outfit and the key tag for the toy, and I wanted to find them before I mailed it back... if they were lost in my dorm room, imagine how lost they are in this apartment O_O!! ... 2) I didn't want to admit that I failed. I kinda hoped if I ignored it, it would go away. That tends to be my default stance on life and I'm discovering that guess what! It doesn't work!

Besides being incessantly reminded by people, it weighs on me just in general. I feel bad to have let so many people down, even in a small way. And I miss having penpals, and miss swapping, but I know that I can't go back unless I fix this. If I tried to go back now, it'd just be like shopping when you owe the bank $30,000 already. XD (Or trying to shop at Maurices when you already owe them $70 for a dress that cost $15. SIIIIIGH.)

So yeah. I sort of use this blog as my "make a public statement so that your decision feels more official" outlet, at least that's what I'm finding.... haha!! So.... :D Yeah!!

-Jesse

The Plan

I like people who are out of control. I think it's because they're boldly showing outside what I feel most of the time inside, but don't have the energy to make a scene about. I always wanted to be a punk rocker chick, but "I wasn't angry enough" I always said. It's not that I wasn't angry enough, but that I didn't have the energy to get up and throw tantrums and do drastic things regardless of the consequences. I'm too tired and too smart. I see all outcomes of my choices and it keeps me from flying off the handle. It's kind of like killing yourself (morbid I know, but stick with me). Your life is crap, and you want to make it better by ending it. Fine. Jump off a cliff. Just make sure what you do is actually going to kill you, because if not, you're going to end up a vegetable with some creepy nurse changing your diapers. I don't take drastic measures because it's like - if things don't go absolutely according to plan, I could end up with a life way worse than what I have now.

I think sometimes we have to let ourselves need something that's bad for us. I don't have to give examples. I'm sure you can think of your own.

Right now, I'm kind of in the middle of something. You know that lame magic trick (and in the 1800's it was a toy they bought for children) where you have a card, and on one side there's a bird, and on the other side there's a cage, and if you spin it really fast it makes a blurry picture of a bird inside of the cage? I feel like on one side of my card, there's depression - this dark, deep, sinking pit of ocean that keeps dragging me under and makes me think that dying would be better than doing the nothing that is my life. On the other side, there's hope. Things could be better. I get energetic and want to change everything. But I feel like I'm not one side more than the other side. Someone is spinning my card and I'm a bird in a cage, not any more bird than I am cage.

I want to stop spinning the card. It should be obvious which side I hope the card lands on when it stops spinning.

The problem I'm having is the same problem I've been having since high school. The difference is that in high school, I was far more energetic and willing to do something about it than I am now. Back then, I decided the issue was comfort. I, like everyone else, have a tendency to do what is comfortable rather than what is good for me, or what is fun, or scary, or challenging. I think if I honestly had my way, I would spend my entire life watching movies, playing video games, and eating snacks. I would never leave my bed. That's what is comfortable to me.

So I'm going to make lists, and plans, because I love making lists and plans. Originally the plan was to make a list of all the things that make me afraid, or really uncomfortable, and to go down the list and do ALL of them. But now I'm thinking that I need to make lists of whatever it is that gives me an extreme emotion. Fear, happiness, disgust, embarassment, excitement, sadness... and go out and do all of them. Experience all of them. My particular brand of depression isn't sadness or anxiety - it's numbness. Comfort. I just sit around and do nothing. I feel nothing, think nothing, do nothing. The opposite of that is to feel lots, think lots, and do lots. So that is what I will do.

(Please note, that there will be nothing on these lists that would actually be harmful to me. When I say "extreme fear" - to me, that consists of spiders, roller coasters, calling in for pizza and telling my parents what I think of them. I'm actually afraid of a lot of really dumb things. So don't fear for my safety, haha.)

Maybe I'll post later when I come up with some actual lists. For now, I'm content to have a plan to make a plan. It feels good, like a solid step in an otherwise shaky walk. Thanks for reading my ceaseless babbling. :)

-Jesse

I suppose this counts as "writing"

It's 9 am. I haven't slept since sometime yesterday. I randomly decided to send my mom one of those fruit bouquets for Mother's Day. While ordering it, though, I got stuck on the little card that comes with it. What to say? I started being super obnoxious and have come up with a lot of things NOT to say. Here are the ones I decided to scrap:

"Happy Mother's Day! Tomorrow celebrates 21 years of your being a mom. Congrats! You survived!"

"I'm sorry I put you through 20 hours of labor. Here is a tasty treat to make up for it."

"It annoys me that my birthday falls on mother's day"

"Thanks for providing me with a rich environment to explore as a child so that I could grow up to be a high-functioning adult"

"... Enjoy the fruit. Yum!"

"Thanks for attempting to push me out of your vagina. I'm sure you didn't particularly enjoy that. But thanks for going through it."

"Aren't you glad I'm out of that 'Here's an ugly pot I made you in preschool!' phase?"

"Even though I now live 3 hours away, I'm still thinking of you on Mother's day. 1 down, 1 to go. Good luck shooing Ryan out of the nest!"

"I acknowledge I am your offspring. It is the social convention to present you with a gift and spew sentiment. Consider this my fulfillment of that convention. Huzzah."

I don't know what to think about the fact that my mom would be annoyed with any of the above. I mean, she's lived with me for 21 years, why does she keep expecting me to magically stop being obnoxious? -___- She has to know anything less than the above would be completely fake. I actually am very sincere in my appreciation for her allowing me to infest her womb for 9 months, cause her intense pain for 20+ hours and then demand practically all of her time and money for the next 21 years. Baha maybe THAT'S what I should put on there. Hmmm. :P

-Jesse

Daily Writing is Hard!

Writing something everyday is turning out to be much harder than I thought it was going to be!! I have nothing to write about, it seems... and all the things I do get an impulse to write are all of a "non-fiction" style, whereas I want to practice creative writing and descriptions. I'm not sure how to manage this just yet.

Maybe for now I'll just write whatever I feel like writing until I start reading, or start getting inspired enough to write some creative non-fiction. :) Not sure. I know I need to work on my time management skills.

-Jesse

Nicole

Here goes my first attempt at daily writing, and the first time I have written anything in a very very very very ungodly long time.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

((In one of the sessions I attended at this conference, I was stuck waiting in a room for 30 minutes, and ended up watching this lady, whose name tag said Nicole, interact with several women around her. This is a not-too-exaggerated portrayal of her.))

Contours and lines seemed to be converging in a giant mess of fluid motion. Nothing here remains straight or solid for long that doesn't eventually spin out of control. I trace these lines with my eyes. I take in the colors, the shapes, but come always, irrevocably, back to the lines. In math they tell you that every line is eternal. Any line you see is merely a segment. As I watch this tangled arrangement of lines which swirl, duck, spin, and flirt with each other, it helps to think that they may be thin pieces of forever, in various shades of amber and gold. They are fragile, despite it all. Each line appears to be held, suspended, at the very cusp of a moment, the edge of a possibility. If I think about it too long, I get anxious, wanting the lines to finish their spiral down, down, down, and keep on going. I have a strong aversion to the pause I discover them in. I'm impatient. The streaks, the stripes, they converge and twine around each other, creating a silhouette of chaotic feminine beauty. A curl here, a spiral there, they all align, somehow, to frame her face. When she turns, and the twining mass is tossed, nonchalantly, I see her face, the main act. She has creases enough to be thirty, but beauty enough to be seventeen. Her smile is hesitant, and her lightly hooded eyes seem to retain a sorrow - not an obsessive one, but something that tugs at her from somewhere. When she laughs, it feels as though she's holding back, and while her lightly drifting curls shake against her face with all the energy of a coiled spring, her weak expressions and faltering voice contradict her own incarnation. Everything about her seemed aimed to make her disappear, except her hair. Her face was pale. Her lips small and shell-pink. Her eyes a nondescript blue, beneath pale lids below pale brows. Her hair, however, a flaming golden amber, stood out. Despite the inherent destiny of being born with an explosion of hair, it was as if she intended to live her life without making any impact. She was trying to slip away. And now, I have refused to let her.