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.