What an Amazing Sunday!

A good hockey game (I would say amazing had we won, heheh).

A great friend hanging out.

Good food.

Fun games.

Excellent music.

Not to mention, I cleaned out 2 weeks of emails, did some health, workout and candle website surfing and just generally relaxed. 

Makes a girl feel damn good, I'll tell ya!  :)

~Jenn

The Fragility of Life and the Power of Nature

My heart goes out to the Chilean people.  How tragic it was to read of the man who sat sobbing in the rubble of what used to be a café while stroking the hand of the dead woman next to him.  Was she his wife?  Lover?  Mother?  Maybe they were merely strangers brought intimately together by a powerful force neither of them truly understood.  There are many thousands of people in similar circumstances tonight.  I hope, though we Americans currently have our own struggles, we can find a way to reach out once more to a people so clearly in need.

Freedom to Move

Ok.  So, since Chris and I moved to Los Angeles, I have barely driven our car.  Let me try to put that in perspective for you:  I am the daughter of a man who worked for Ford Motor Company for 48 years.  My father could rebuild an engine blindfolded at 15 years old.  Cars were so much a part of my upbringing that I begged my father to start teaching me to drive early, which he did.  I was taught to drive at 12 years old in a Vega hatchback in the parking lot of our local high school, and I got my license just as soon as I turned 16 years old.  My brother had no interest in the inner-workings of the cars we drove, so I was the one who was taught how to change the oil and fix a tire.  My father helped me to understand that cars can be a vehicle to a greater sense of freedom.

Therefore, my willingly giving up the driver's seat is an aberration, to say the very least.  Here is a lesson in how something like that starts - The drivers in Los Angeles are certifiably insane.  I'm not even kidding.  I came from Motown.  We take pride in our ability to drive very fast, but with total control.  These MF'ers out here drive like somebody handed the keys to the first car to their over-caffeinated 10 year old, and the keys to the 2nd car were handed to their 90 year old mother who just happens to have Alzheimer's.  In other words, half of the drivers are going 100 miles an hour, changing lanes like a coke addict with ADHD, and the other half are driving 15 miles under the speed limit and randomly breaking for no readily apparent reason.  The mix of the two can be absolutely terrifying.

I quickly gave up and decided to let Chris handle it.  What a total wimp I am, right?  The problem is, the more you avoid it, the scarier it becomes.  It got to the where I did not want to be behind the wheel at all.  It completely stripped me of my  freedom.

For the last two weekends I have purposely went out, all by myself, to correct this ridiculous (I know, I know, it is seriously ridiculous) issue, and it has worked.  I can, miraculously, still drive.  My heart isn't completely in my throat, and I am having a great time puttering around alone.  In fact, I went to General Wax, the candle supply store today (it is way overpriced compared to candlewic.com, by the by). 

It is amazing that something so small can be such a large contributor to your own self-worth, but yet here we are and I am feeling quite a bit different!  The freedom to move, to control my own destiny, the sacred knowledge of how to drive a car that was gifted to me by my father has been restored to me, just by getting out and DOING it.  What a valuable lesson this is for every other aspect of my life.  As Nike says, Just Do It! 

Fear.  Be.  Damned.

~Jenn

Temptation

-----------------------------------------------------

The Dark Man
has
captured the children.

He escaped
down a narrow,
twisting
flight of stairs.

A gnarled,
termite infested
piece of oak
is all I can find for a weapon.

The bitter taste of
fear
mingles with the
sweet nectar of
pursuit.

I begin my chase.

The cellar is dank and musty.
Cobwebs linger
on my face like a tender caress.

Huge rats squeak and scuffle past me.

As I run through the maze,
I find more hallways
and doors,
each exactly like the last.

Despair holds me like a cold friend.

I am sticky, hot,
and exhausted when
I stumble into
the last hallway.

A red doorway
stands in stark relief
amidst
her black brothers.

I know they are here.

Leaning into the
door I hear their
innocence

whimpering
to me,

whispering
for help.

Throwing open the
door I find the
children

kneeling
at an altar made of coal.

Towering over them is the Dark Man.

I swing my piece
of wood as hard,
as fast
as I can.

I intend to kill him.

But
as I'm swinging

His eyes catch mine.

They are

beautiful,
peaceful,

loving.

His black beard
black hair
are inviting

Sexy.

His lips
His smiling lips
are
wet
comforting
knowing.

Right before
my wood
cracks

open

His skull
and
spews his matter

DARKNESS

I awake -

perhaps minutes
perhaps eons-
later.

I feel his beard
caressing my
cheek and his breath
warm on my face

as he nuzzles my lips.

I remember
vaguely
that I was upset about

something.

I recall
feeling animosity
toward him.

But, I realize that
I must have been mistaken
and I

confess my love.

Manifest Stresstiny

When every aspect of your life causes you stress, do you not have to look within and ask "What the french am I doing WRONG, here?" 

My job is killing me, we're running out of money....hell, even my own brother stresses me out.  My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and every muscle in my body is sore from tensing up.

When everything around you is crazy, sometimes you just gotta admit that maybe the crazy comes from you.  Or, maybe it is time to realize that you aren't doing any of the right things you need to do in order to keep the crazy at bay.  Sometimes I wish to god I could win the lottery, but I am starting to wonder if I wouldn't find something about that to freak me out.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that my job is actually easy, and I'm imagining all of it.  I also really am running out of money.  However, why am I manifesting these situations?  What is going on in my head, or spirit, or karma, or soul, or chakra, or whatever that I invite intensely stressful situations into my life?  Absolutely nothing in my life is easy, and I really think I want a little helping of easy at this point. 

I guess if I can find the answer to this, I *might* be able to get on the path towards fixing it.  We'll see.

~Jenn

Note on the refrigerator door.

I am a little empty tonight, so I thought I would share something with ya'll that made me laugh and laugh.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I did:

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE PETS, THIS IS A TRUE STORY.

FOR THOSE THAT DON'T, IT IS STILL A TRUE STORY.

The following was found posted very low on a refrigerator door:

Dear Dogs and Cats: The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Racing me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort, however. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other, stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out on the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom! If, by some miracle, I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge in an attempt to open the door. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years - canine/feline attendance is not required..

The proper order for kissing is: Kiss me first, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough.

Finally, in fairness, dear pets, I have posted the following message on the front door:

TO ALL NON-PET OWNERS WHO VISIT AND LIKE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT OUR PETS:

(1) They live here. You don't.

(2) If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. That's why they call it 'fur'-niture.

(3) I like my pets a lot better than I like most people..

(4) To you, they are animals. To me, they are adopted sons/daughters who are short, hairy, walk on all fours and don't speak clearly.

Remember, dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

(1) eat less,

(2) don't ask for money all the time,

(3) are easier to train,

(4) normally come when called,

(5) never ask to drive the car,

(6) don't smoke or drink,

(7) don't want to wear your clothes,

(8) don't have to buy the latest fashions,

(9) don't need a gazillion dollars for college

and

(10) if they get pregnant, you can sell their children...

A sweet, sweet song

Sweet Mary

A rebel, heaven sent
She does lament
Her station, her nation

She's the best at what she does
A professional
A natural, a political dove.

You know her, you love her
Your imagination
Is wild about her.

Is she
all she seems
A spirit, a sweet, sweet dream.

Mary, oh Mary
Sing to me, Mary.
Tell me Mary.

Tell me your dreams,
Sweet,
Sweet Mary.

Obsession...

Please allow me to continue my candle making obsession a little longer.  I did some on-line shopping today for the supplies I will need.  My teacher, Abdul, gave me two great websites that sell candle supplies:

http://www.generalwax.com/

http://www.candlewic.com/default.asp

General Wax and Candle is local, so I will definitely make a trip there by Friday or Saturday.

Abdul also offered this WONDERFUL piece of advice - as long as it can take the heat, anything can be a mold.  I allowed my mind to work that over a bit, and decided to add that anything can be the candle holder itself.  Large seashell?  Candle.  Old mason jar?  Candle.  Think of the thousands of possibilities one could find at the Goodwill.  That makes the financial outlay that much less.  You could feasibly make a one pound candle for about $2, and sell it for $10-$20 (or more) at the farmers market.

Well, we'll see where this leads me.  I'm hoping candles are the answer to my financial prayers, but I guess I have to make sure I can make a product folks want!  I will say this, though - the first of my candles has burned for hours now, yesterday and today, and it still going.  It also smells great.  I'd buy it!  ;)

~Jenn

Today...

...was a TOTAL BLAST.  It was everything I wanted it to be and more.  Candle making is incredibly fun and so much easier than I had imagined.  There is almost NO limit to what you can do creatively - you can use the most unconventional molds, you can put in dried fruits, leaves, flower petals, you name it!

It is so easy to make beautiful, natural organic candles, as well.  Use Soy Wax instead of paraffin, use essential oils instead of fabricated perfume oil, and you can make colors by mixing olive oil and dried fruits and microwaving them  - like, if you want a blue candle, mix blueberries and olive oil, put them in the microwave, then just add it to your wax.

There were five of us in the class.  Three of the ladies were a blast, the last one was a bit odd.  The teacher, Abdul,  was DARLING.  Seriously.  He is such a sweet, sweet man, and you can tell that he LOVES passing on his knowledge.  He stayed a whole hour longer, just because we were having such a great time he wanted us to keep going.  I came home with seventeen candles that I made myself.  17 candles, can you imagine how much I would have spent at the store for them???  Abdul is also going to teach the soap making class in April, and all of us ladies said we would reconvene then.

I have pics below of my candles.  There are a few that I still have to put the wick in (and take out of the mold), as they were still too warm to do it before I left.

~Jenn

SO EXCITED.

I seriously can't communicate how excited I am for tomorrow's candle making class.  I am such a total GEEK.  I honestly don't even know why I am this excited, I just AM. 

Ok.  True confession:  I have had a fantasy, for about two years, of opening a store that offers craft classes.  At one time I had thought of the COOLEST name for the damn place, but didn't write it down.  Damn Old Timers disease.

Here was the idea:  there would be all kinds of different classes every day teaching folks how to make stuff with their hands - real salt of the earth, getting back to Ma and Pa kettle, living life-by-what-we-create kinds of stuff.

But, the really awesome part of it is this:  the entire storefront would be a big display, where the students could sell their wares after they have made them, and the store would take a small commission on each piece.

Omg, I know it would be a modest place, but a good little profit, if I could just find an investor. 

Ok, I'm getting ahead of myself.  In the meantime, I'm gonna go learn how to make candles.  :)

~Jenn

A Simpler Time.

I, like millions (billions) of others, have been dealing with the weight of stress in my life.  Everyone has something.  Financial concerns, a sick child, a cranky boss....whatever it is, sometimes it can feel like the slowest of deaths. 

I sit tonight in Los Angeles, admiring the view from my window.  The night looks crisp, and the streetlights cut sharp edges into the gloom.  My mind wanders back to another time, an earlier time with a mobile view of the evening sky from the back seat of my parent's automobile.  The stars flew over the car in long, bright streams.  As I laid there, I was greatly comforted by the soft, low sound of my parents talking in the front seat.  I was rocked by the steady thump of our tires rolling over the grooves in the road.  I believed then that I was the safest little girl in the world.  I believed that I would always feel as good as I did right then in the back seat of that car, listening to one or both of my parents laughing quietly at some small joke they had just shared. 

I may not ever feel quite that safe again, but I am so eternally grateful that I'll always have such a wonderful memory to hold dear.

~Jenn

I Love...

Today was a very long, stressful day...

....so let me just say, I love Dexter (and, by proxy, I love Netflix).

I love my fiancé, Chris.

I love my cat, Jada.

I love my co-worker, Mariel, for surviving today with me.

I love Papa Johns for having a $10 deal on large pizzas with everything.

I love American Idol (SHUT UP, I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK OR THAT IT'S "NOT COOL").

I love my family.

I love that today is one day away from being my weekend off.

I love that I will learn how to make candles this Saturday.

I love just thinking about my dad.  Seriously.  Just the thought of him makes my heart sing.

LOVE.  :)

~Jenn

Life According to Aunt Shirley.

My father and his ten brothers and sisters had an extremely difficult life growing up.  They are from an incredibly poor area in the Virginia mountains.  The stories my father has shared with me about his childhood turns my hair white.

I am made of much, much softer stuff.  My parents spoiled my brother and I, just as my cousins were spoiled by my aunts and uncles.  The Lester siblings made sure their progeny had the life that they could only dream of back when they were scrabbling for every morsel to put on the dinner table. 

So I loved it today when, as I was whining yet again about my health BS, Aunt Shirl checks me back into reality by writing "... put on your big girl pantie's... and deal with it!!! ummmm sorry... life according to your Aunt Shirley... LMAO!!!".

Just the Lester-style kick in the ass I needed.  :)

~Jenn

Girl on a Stair.

In my mind's eye I see a beautiful young woman standing at the bottom of a staircase looking up.  Dressed in a luminescent, feather-light ball gown with satin slippers on her feet, she begins the climb upward.  The sun peeks a happy greeting through the window curtains at the top of the stair and, with every step, she is bathed in more light.  As her foot falls upon the top-most step the entire passageway is flooded with gorgeous warmth, and the girl turns nearly translucent in the brilliance.  She dances and twirls, delighted to hold the sun's attention, and falls giggling into a silky heap across the divan under the sill.  Then, quietly and with great concentration, she traces the sun's rays across the panes of glass in just the same way she might caress her lover's skin.  As her breathing slows and her eyelids grow heavy, she twines her hand through the curtain ties and swears she'll belong to the light forever.

~Jenn

Another Wonderful Day...

Happy Valentines Day, everyone! 

It has been another therapeutic day.  I can't avoid my problems forever, but I did take a few days off from worrying about them.  Chris and I rolled out of bed very late and played kissy-face for awhile.  I bounced around the internet while he watched TV, and then I did my first 1/2 hour of hypnotherapy CD's.  They are for weight loss, but it was also incredibly relaxing.  I'll let you all know if they seem to be working.  Now we're going to meet back up in the kitchen and make steak and crab legs.  They were discounted at the market, so keep your fingers crossed for us!  ;)

I hope ya'll have had as mellow and wonderful a weekend as I have.  Tomorrow I'll have to get back to the business of making some serious life changes, but at least now I feel like I'm in a much stronger place with which to begin.

Love,
~Jenn

Getting Back to Myself...

Thursday was undeniably rough.  However, I cried it out, and then yesterday I gave myself the day off from everything (including this blog).  I slept, ate, slept some more, got foot rubs from Chris, and FINALLY saw Dexter.  We had been meaning to rent the first 4 episodes for forever, because we had heard such amazing things about the show.  Wow, did it live up to the hype!  Excellent show! I also went to bed very, very early and woke up a new woman this morning.  I met my co-workers for lunch, and then we did the show "Accomplice".  I say "did" rather than attended or watched, because you are actively involved in the show the entire time.  Think dinner theater, except you are walking up and down Hollywood Boulevard (a LOT of walking - great exercise!) from one restaurant to the next meeting new people and gathering clues.  It was a BLAST and the actors are AMAZING!  The best part is that lunch and the show were all courtesy of my boss, so I spent all of $3 on parking.  Whoo-hoo!

Even during what can feel like the worst of times, life will hand you something wonderful, and that is what the last 2 days have been.  :)

~Jenn

For better or for worse...

...this blog has become the diary that I have never had before. I had always meant to keep a diary, I had big plans to start one, but, let's face it, I was just lazy - or maybe I just didn't want to know what I had to say, who knows?.  My promise to ya'll has kept me more honest regarding putting my random thoughts to "paper" than anything has before.

The problem is, I promised ya'll a "Living, Loving, Alive, Adventure".  However, some days, I am just downright depressed.  Like, right now, I am seriously trying not to cry.  My job is so stressful some days. I spent 9 straight hours today feeling like I was having a nervous breakdown.  Shaking, shallow breathing, freaking....smoking.  Yes, I've been smoking all week.  Only one or two a day, but still.  I've been chewing nails, too. 

I have 2 employees that are moving on...both for perfectly valid financial reasons.  I have come to rely on my people so much, mostly because I pick the very best.  Intelligent, funny charmers who make the job so much easier.  It was already a very rough week and this news just makes it so much worse.  I hope they know just how much I appreciate them.

~Jenn

Positive Affirmations...

Well, I'm sick.  Again.  Came home early from work, napped, and now I'm up alternating between chills and the sweats, head aching, back tied up in knots, sneezing...the works.

Rather than wallowing in shameless self-pity, as I am often wont to do, I am going to list out some positive affirmations and then go back to bed.

~I am a good person
~I do good things
~I am a caring person
~I am a loving person
~I am a loving girlfriend
~I am a loving daughter and sister
~I am a good friend
~I am a great boss
~I am an excellent employee
~I am kind to animals
~I am beautiful, inside and out
~I am intelligent
~I can and will be a healthy person again
~I am a creative person
~I am an athletic person, and I will work out to keep myself healthy
~I will be calm and relaxed in every situation
~I will respect and love myself, and put my needs first
~My money woes will soon be a thing of the past
~I will not commit acts of self-sabotage
~Every day gives me more energy
~I am in charge of my own destiny
~Since I am in charge of my own destiny, I will choose to manifest a good, healthy, happy one 
~Everything is getting better, every day.
~I deserve to be happy

~Jenn  :)

The Hurt Locker

Chris and I watched "The Hurt Locker" this past weekend.  It is one of the best films I have seen in years, and I'm pulling for it to take home the big prize on March 7th. 

Another reason to love it is that it was directed by Kathryn Bigelow, who is now only the fourth woman in history to receive a Best Director nom.  Ms. Bigelow certainly didn't follow that Hollywood tradition of the little woman sticking to directing "chick" flicks.  She is known as an action director with movies that are chock full of tension, and are as tight as a drum.  And, boy oh boy, let me tell you, the tension in Hurt Locker sent me to bed directly afterwards.  It was relentless, but also very honest.  Nothing felt contrived, nor did it feel like she had a political agenda to push.  She left it up to the viewer to decide how they felt about what they saw, and I appreciated that immensely.

Check it out!

~Jenn

What is Love, Anyway?

Forget every romance novel you have ever read.  In fact, ban them all from your house because a romance novelist is an unforgivable liar worthy of house arrest.  Love isn't running over the moors, ripping your clothes off with every footfall and throwing yourself into the sand to make sweet, passionate love all night.  Nor, ladies, does he have a "purple-headed warrior with an ability that knows no end".  And, sorry guys, after 40 and three kids her "heaving bosom" starts heading south to vacation with her navel.

What is real love?  It is her waking to the sound of his thundering farts and loving him anyway.  It is his allowing her to emotionally glurge all over the apartment, and him, when she's upset.  It is the two of them working through massive issues with the least amount of emotional bloodshed; yet, it also lies in their ability to have the biggest fight of either of their lives, but still (somehow) not let it get personally ugly.  Love is parents' who sacrifice everything - their sleep, desires, peace of mind, every cent that they make and every cell in their body, all devoted to raising their child.

Love is messy, dirty, and often downright ugly.  The person you love the most, if only for the briefest of moments, is often the one you most wish to kill.  Lust, laughter, anger, sadness...there is no one in our lives that can affect us in quite the same way as our lovers. 

Personally, I'll take the real thing over the fantasy any day.

~Jenn

A Super Kind of Day

Passion, drive, determination, heart.  It was indelible in the game today.  It was etched onto the faces of Drew Brees and the Saints.  There is no question that they wanted to win just as much for the city of New Orleans as they did for themselves.  I can only imagine the outpouring of joy right now on Bourbon Street.

If I can adopt even just 10% of the fortitude and resolve that I witnessed today, I will be able to accomplish everything that I have set out to do and more.

It was a great game, good food, and wonderful company.  The cherry on the cake was that we got to watch it on the 60" TV that was GIVEN to us (aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh).  What an absolutely perfect day.

Way, WAY too much about me...

I'm thinking about teaching for the Institute of Reading Development this summer.  I went to their website to put in my application and, little did I know that they were going to ask for a dissertation on my entire life and times.  Since it took me a good part of the day to write the answers to the following five questions, I have nothing left for a new blog.  For better or worse, I share their questions and my answers with you:

Please describe yourself as a reader and how you came to be one.


The beginning of my reading journey was less than auspicious. As it turned out, I much preferred the sound of my mother's voice over doing the work it would take to learn to read myself. My mother, concerned that I still didn't know how to read well into the first grade, asked my teacher why, and her response was "I don't have time to teach your daughter to read! I have a whole classroom to worry about!" My mother realized that if her daughter was going to grow up literate it was going to have to be entirely from her doing. So, she took me to the library and proceeded to check out twenty books. I still remember the sight of that stack of books sitting on the checkout table. To say I was intimidated would be an understatement. My mother turned out to be quite the task master. I was required to read several books per day, and she absolutely refused to read to me anymore. Instead, I had to read to her every night. It was positively heartbreaking at first. However, after about a week or so I started to get the hang of it and after another week the beauty of what I was doing suddenly hit me. I realized that I was no longer at the mercy of my mother's schedule. She had given me the keys to the kingdom so that I could read wherever and whenever I wished. And, read I did. Every chance I got I was curled up somewhere in our house reading. To both my mother and my brother's great dismay, I graduated very quickly from children's books to stealing my brother's sci-fi books from his bookshelf. Since that time, I could not begin to guess how many books I have read. Even my fiancé, who has his B.A. in English, is often torn between laughter and shock at the rate that I go through books. The ability to read has turned out to be the greatest gift of my life.

Please tell us about books or authors that have been particularly meaningful to you.

Oh, where to begin? One of the first books that absolutely blew my (too young) mind was "Logan's Run" by William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson. Another one was "House of Stairs" by William Sleator. "Old Yeller" by Fred Gipson and Steven Polson broke my heart in a way that I have never forgotten. In my early teens I discovered Stephen King. I read every book of his I could get my hands on, most of them multiple times. Being an animal lover, I was a fan of Jack London. Through school I learned to love classics from the likes of T.S. Eliot, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert Frost and Samuel Clemens. As a burgeoning young woman, I deeply admired Emily Dickinson. In my adult life, I have enjoyed the richly beautiful yet darkly painful world depicted by Pat Conroy in "The Prince of Tides". I have loved Shakespeare, both on the page as well as on the stage. Books like "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle: A Novel", by David Wroblewski, with its subtle illusions to Hamlet, keep me up late at night. I read "The Road" in a few hours and was moved to tears several times by its opaque and hellish dystopia. I have also loved works by Salinger, Orwell, Steinbeck, Ludlum, Tennessee Williams, Maguire, and even the Queen of her own Universe, J.K. Rowling. I so loved J.R.R. Tolkien's "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings" that I even read "The Silmarillion" cover to cover, which is roughly akin to slavishly reading the Bible's series of begets from beginning to end. I have my guilty pleasure in the books by Diana Gabaldon. Finally, my most beloved and favorite author of all is, without question, Anne Rice. Her gorgeous prose has turned me on my head countless times, and I always look forward to every page of her books. I could go on as there are 5 bookshelves in my apartment that are positively stuffed with books. So much so, that my fiancé has all but forbidden me to bring in anymore without getting rid of some first. However, as I have told him, that is like asking me to do a “Sophie’s Choice”. He just shakes his head and walks away.

Why are you applying to teach for the Institute this summer?

I really loved your ad, and your mission statement inspired me. You have helped me to remember my own history, and how close I came to being shut out of something that is so much a part of everything I am. It is as important to who I am as the DNA strand that dictated green for the color of my eyes. My mother effectively changed my life. I feel that had I never become as enamoured of reading as I am, I wouldn't be as well-rounded, I wouldn't have had the same level of success, my world view would have been seriously limited and I wouldn't be nearly as happy. If I could do the same for others, if I could impart my love of reading and give even one other person the beautiful gift that I was given, it would be an enormous honor and privilege.

What influences and experiences have shaped your desire to teach? What role, if any, do you see teaching playing in your future?

I have had so many teachers who have deeply inspired me. First: my mother, as I have previously mentioned. Next was my 2nd grade teacher, named Mrs. Keller. I loved that woman so much that I went back to visit her well into my high school years. She was one of the first people in my life that accepted me for who I was; quirks and all. I was a strange little girl in those days. I insisted on only wearing dresses to school, yet my best friends were all boys and we spent our recesses together crawling through the dirt and mud trying to find evidence of Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. It was like an elementary school version of The X-Files. My mother was so worried about this behavior that she asked Mrs. Keller if she would try and put a stop to it. "No", she replied, "It's a phase, and the best thing to do is to let her grow out of it. She'll make friends with the other girls, give her time". Mrs. Fast was my middle school theater teacher. She wasn't terribly inspiring, but she did get out of my way and allow me to create some indelible characters. Her class began a life-long love affair with the theater. Mrs. Gloria Nixon-John was technically my high school poetry teacher, but she was also so much more. A little background - my brother was a genius; his IQ having been tested in the 150's or so. He was 7 years older than I. For my entire young life everyone compared me to him...teachers, relatives...everyone tried to figure out why he was so brilliant and I seemingly wasn't. Mrs. Nixon-John had taught both my brother and I, and she was the first person in my life who reassured me that I was as smart, and in some ways smarter, than my brother. I am grateful to this day for the shot of confidence she gave me, helping me to realize that the only thing that had been stopping me was my own lack of self-belief. Other amazing teachers include Mr. Rick Bodick (high school theater), a high school algebra teacher (I cannot remember his name but he was the first math teacher to make it all make sense), Ms. Karen Sheridan (college theater), Ms. Susan Barrett (college theater), a sociology teacher that I had in college who BLEW my mind, but I cannot remember his name, and Mr. Stephen Black (acting teacher). I thank everyone named above for affecting me, changing me and making me who I am today. As for where I see teaching playing in my future, I am hoping that this could be the beginning of a new career. I have dreamt many times of going back to school to get my teaching degree. I would love to teach English, Theater/Acting and American Government and hopefully inspire a number of students in the same way that I was inspired.

Please describe your work ethic, and the influences that have shaped it.

I owe my work ethic entirely to my father. He was born the oldest of eleven children in a very rural area of Virginia. My grandfather was both a drunk and a gambler, so my father had to grow up far sooner than any child should. At the age of nine years old he had to quit school and go to work. By the age of eleven, believe it or not, he was driving dump trucks hauling coal over crude roads built into the sides of the Virginia Mountains. At fifteen, he had been hearing about the sorts of amazing jobs, pay and benefits a young man could get at the car companies up in Michigan. He told his father, and the entire family, that if he was going to continue to support them, then that is where they must go. At that time, Ford Motor Company required that its employees be at least 18 years of age to work for them, so my father talked one of his uncles into lying for him so that he could start 2 years early. Aside from his required tour of duty in the army, my father worked for Ford for forty-eight continuous years. He wasn't just a union man, biding his time riding the clock, either. He constantly volunteered to take classes in whatever the new auto-line technology was so that he could take care of any problem that came up. In addition, for the first eighteen years of my parent's marriage, he also worked a second job to make sure he could make ends meet for the four of us, and so that my mother could stay home with my brother and I while we were young. Watching this man, this strong and silent pillar of our family, formed every aspect of my own work ethic. I work extremely hard, I am very loyal, and I am incredibly passionate about every assignment and task that I am given. I cannot just "punch out", as it isn't in my nature to do so. I am always thinking of new ideas, a more efficient course of action, and ways to inspire those who work under me.


~Jenn

Getting Revved...

Ok, I'm back on the horse.  I'm reading the manual to "Fat Burning Furnace" and it has positively JAZZED me the last few days.  It is a completely different approach to working out and eating than anything I have ever read before.  Not only that, but I ordered some highly rated hypnosis CD's that were recommended to me.

On the working with my hands front, I have some seriously cool classes coming up in the next few weeks:  soap making, knitting, jewelry/beading and a candle making class in April.  I am completely psyched about learning this stuff.  Not only because it seems so fun, but if I can get any good at it I will try selling stuff for extra money.  I'm also looking for a sewing class.  Gah!  So much FUN!

I'm not going to measure myself today.  I'm in a great mood right now, and I refuse to ruin it.  I was derailed over the last few weeks by my mood, work and health issues, but I feel like I'm getting back on track. 

2010 hold much promise again!  :)

~Jenn

The most sensitive and needy among us...

Look, none of us are 100% sane.  We all have our own issues, needs, misconceptions, and paranoias.  All of us fear growing old alone, living a life lacking meaning, or not having personal security.

However, to watch someone implode their own life, to see them rip asunder everything they have worked for over many, many years, all due to their own paranoid fantasies, is one extremely depressing sight to have to witness.  It's manifest destiny....you are so obsessed with the idea that someone close to you is going to stab you in the back that your very actions of mistrust force everyone you know to turn on you.  You absolutely cannot treat people horribly and then ask them to love you for it.  You have to realize that when the only common element in all of the problems is YOU, then YOU must be the damn problem.

There is something that I care very deeply about that is being destroyed before my very eyes, and I am helpless to stop it.  All I can do is try and keep the damage to a minimum, not only to that thing that I love, but also to the folks that I care about who are involved.  But, even I can only take so much for so long.  All of the excuses that I make, and the deep empathy that I feel, will only stretch so far before I, too, must move on to more positive pastures. 

~Jenn

It all seemed so easy....

As always, it is such a simple thing write a bunch of goals onto a piece of paper (or....type them onto a blog) at the beginning of the year.  The phrase "New Years Resolution" is almost synonymous with the phrase "another year, another FAIL".  Recently, I was ready to write off 2010 as yet another in a serious of misguided, though well-intentioned, defeats of will, not to mention willpower.  Work has sucked, my workouts dwindled to nothing, money is tight, sleep is elusive, I can't seem to stop eating, Chris and I have both been sick,  I can barely breathe even while sitting at this desk and my chest feels like a 40 pound weight is ever present...dammit, 2010!  You were supposed to work miracles!

Just when I was feeling all justified in throwing in the towel - giving up, apologizing to the handful who followed my invite to read this blog, letting myself just get older and sicker...just when I was about to say EFF it...I received a package today.

It wasn't a million dollars.  It wasn't a miracle health cure.  It wasn't even an easier job.  It was simply a cure package for the soul.  It was a grouping of interesting books, some candy and a little perfume.  More importantly, though, it was a reminder that I count.  It said to me that the people that I respect and hold so dear also return the sentiment.  It was a box of love at a time when I wasn't exactly loving myself.

I am hard pressed to find the words to truly convey just how much this was needed, and how it  touched me, so I will try to do it justice by living up to the promises that I made here a few weeks ago. 

Brigetta, I tore into your package like it was Christmas, and you made my heart sing.  I love you and I thank you, truly, deeply.  I am lucky you wandered into my life through this crazy 'series of tubes'. 

Love,
~Jenn

Laughter is the best.

Yes, it is the best medicine, but it is also so much more.  I honestly believe that if I couldn't laugh anymore, I wouldn't want to live.  It doesn't matter what is happening around me, how stressed I am, or how sick I feel, if something even remotely funny happens anywhere near me I can't help but bark with laughter.  Literally.  I am the loudest laugher I know.  I have been stared down a thousand times in public for my loud, boisterous laughter and, you know what?  It doesn't even faze me anymore.  It doesn't embarrass me, and I really don't even care what people think about it.  I have learned to feel sorry for them that they aren't laughing as hard as I am. 

I can also all but guarantee that I am one of the few people you know that when I write "LOL", I actually just did it.  Just to be clear, though, I know when not to scream with laughter....at the public library or in the hospital, for example.  However, most places I frequent are 100% open game for some gut-busting, tear-inducing giggles.

My two favorite activities are sleeping and laughing, and I refuse to apologize for either one.  Anyone who can make me laugh I automatically like, regardless of any other odd personality quirks.  It has always been the most important thing I look for in a guy, and I have feel lucky that I struck humor gold with Chris.  We laugh every night, and I love him more every day for it.

One thing is for sure - I may not be the funniest person you know, but I will definitely make you feel like you're the funniest person I know.  It can't help but  make us all feel good.  :)

Tired today.....

I have nothing of note today.  I am so, so tired.  Still having the breathing issue, I'm sore all over, my back hurts, my chest hurts, work is stressing me, what a DOWNER I am.  So, I'm going to hit the hay and see if tomorrow might bring a better outlook...

I hope you're well and having sweet dreams already.  :)

~Jenn

Smitten by Gaga...

This is admittedly a recurring theme for me this week - first Jason Greene and now Lady Gaga:  I bow to the fearless among us.

I was, not for the first time with Gaga, absolutely blown away by her life, verve, nerve, creativity, talent, bizarre beauty, stage presence, and unreal stage show on the Grammys this evening.  I turned to Chris at one point and asked how she manages to top herself, every single time.  She is the epitome of "Be Independent of the Good Opinion of Others", the quote by Dr. Wayne Dyer and subject of last Tuesday's blog.  She not only doesn't care what you and I think, it doesn't even seem to occur to her to bother caring.  Being swayed by our opinions isn't even on her radar. 

I LOVE that about her.  LOVE.  As good as she is (great singer, dancer, writer, etc), it is her audacious, bodacious, cheeky, confident courageousness that I adore and covet.  I pray that I learn this lesson well enough to adopt it before I am old and gray.  Until then, I'm going to put in the earphones, listen to "Poker Face" and pretend I'm brave enough to bounce around in skimpy alien suits with a face full of glitter.