XO
I have. And he's a tremendously damn talented man. Guitarist, songwriter, singer, businessman, activist. Probably a few other things as well, things no one else is aware of him being.
He's also intelligent, funny, quick-witted, compassionate, kind, hardworking, loyal, and loving.
And he looks dangerously delicious.
Yeah baby, its all good.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Lonely in Two Acts
I.
so much to say but no way to say it
no one lets me get a word
each phrase, every sentence
microscoped, judged, found wanting
'can't say that!'
'how dare you!'
'crazy, pathetic, delusional!'
'dangerous!'
'NASTY!'
how about
you walk in my life for a while
see what it feels like
to be me
i have feelings
i have dreams
i have wishes and wants
i have needs
did you know that?
do you care?
do you care?
II.
you are different
you have seen me
for who i am
i cannot explain how you affect me
do you know how my heart leaps
when i hear your voice?
to feel your touch
would be
the beginning and
the very end of me
but as i ended
so would we begin
when the world slept
when the wind howled
when the rain beat down like Hell
tempest-driven by emotion
barriers crashed down for us
we will know then
nothing can crush us
nothing can crush us
J 11.29.os
so much to say but no way to say it
no one lets me get a word
each phrase, every sentence
microscoped, judged, found wanting
'can't say that!'
'how dare you!'
'crazy, pathetic, delusional!'
'dangerous!'
'NASTY!'
how about
you walk in my life for a while
see what it feels like
to be me
i have feelings
i have dreams
i have wishes and wants
i have needs
did you know that?
do you care?
do you care?
II.
you are different
you have seen me
for who i am
i cannot explain how you affect me
do you know how my heart leaps
when i hear your voice?
to feel your touch
would be
the beginning and
the very end of me
but as i ended
so would we begin
when the world slept
when the wind howled
when the rain beat down like Hell
tempest-driven by emotion
barriers crashed down for us
we will know then
nothing can crush us
nothing can crush us
J 11.29.os
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Day In Day Out
Dear SS,
Haven't talked to you at any length for a while. I hope you're doing well and enjoying the autumn temperatures, the leaves, the cool wind, all those things. Since you don't make too many appearances these days, nobody knows what's happening with you.
My nephew will be leaving for Iraq probably next week. He has all the necessary preliminaries done, and is just waiting for his company to give the word. You know, he acts like he's really unconcerned, it's all routine, 'yeah I'll be fine don't worry about me'. But I know in his heart he's scared. How could a sane person not be scared to be going there? For a year, more than likely? Even though he's not a soldier, and won't see battle, he's still going to be about 40 miles from fighting. That's not far enough away. I've already started praying for him, and I swore I would, every day, until he comes home. He said he may not be able to wear the necklace I gave him, but he would have it with him all the time.
I'm scared for him. I hope he'll be alright.
Things with my mom have been much better since I wrote her that letter. She's been making some noises lately about the finances, but I just stop talking when she does that, and we move on to new subjects. I'm going to her place for dinner tonight; if she brings it up, I can try to distract her by talking about the meatloaf. ;)
Did you have a good Halloween? What kind of costume did you have? I didn't even have any trick-or-treaters. Not many kids live in our complex, and I don't think any from the surrounding subdivisions come up this far. So I had pizza and listened to music and read Jeffery Deaver. Another fun-filled night at Punk Central.
Not much else to report. I just wanted to drop you a line, see how you're faring. Come visit when you have a few, alright?
We can go look at the stars. :)
Goodnight, baby. I love you.
My heart to yours, always.
J
P.S. The offer to get crosseyed still stands, you know. Bring the crumbs. ;)
Haven't talked to you at any length for a while. I hope you're doing well and enjoying the autumn temperatures, the leaves, the cool wind, all those things. Since you don't make too many appearances these days, nobody knows what's happening with you.
My nephew will be leaving for Iraq probably next week. He has all the necessary preliminaries done, and is just waiting for his company to give the word. You know, he acts like he's really unconcerned, it's all routine, 'yeah I'll be fine don't worry about me'. But I know in his heart he's scared. How could a sane person not be scared to be going there? For a year, more than likely? Even though he's not a soldier, and won't see battle, he's still going to be about 40 miles from fighting. That's not far enough away. I've already started praying for him, and I swore I would, every day, until he comes home. He said he may not be able to wear the necklace I gave him, but he would have it with him all the time.
I'm scared for him. I hope he'll be alright.
Things with my mom have been much better since I wrote her that letter. She's been making some noises lately about the finances, but I just stop talking when she does that, and we move on to new subjects. I'm going to her place for dinner tonight; if she brings it up, I can try to distract her by talking about the meatloaf. ;)
Did you have a good Halloween? What kind of costume did you have? I didn't even have any trick-or-treaters. Not many kids live in our complex, and I don't think any from the surrounding subdivisions come up this far. So I had pizza and listened to music and read Jeffery Deaver. Another fun-filled night at Punk Central.
Not much else to report. I just wanted to drop you a line, see how you're faring. Come visit when you have a few, alright?
We can go look at the stars. :)
Goodnight, baby. I love you.
My heart to yours, always.
J
P.S. The offer to get crosseyed still stands, you know. Bring the crumbs. ;)
Friday, October 31, 2008
Happy Birthday Frank
child of autumn
small boy cloaked in darkness
by pumpkin-light illuminated
son of All Hallow's Eve
mischievous but quiet
precocious yet silly
in a flash of lightning the boy
is gone
in his place stands a man
intelligent but silly
fun-loving yet quiet
the same, although changed
from boy to man
a thousand journeys have taken place
many thousands wait still to begin
as the year leads into another
the man learns that to be a true man
he must allow the child to survive
J 10.21.08
small boy cloaked in darkness
by pumpkin-light illuminated
son of All Hallow's Eve
mischievous but quiet
precocious yet silly
in a flash of lightning the boy
is gone
in his place stands a man
intelligent but silly
fun-loving yet quiet
the same, although changed
from boy to man
a thousand journeys have taken place
many thousands wait still to begin
as the year leads into another
the man learns that to be a true man
he must allow the child to survive
J 10.21.08
Sunday, October 26, 2008
So Long, and Goodnight
My older nephew--I'll call him C--recently got a new job. The company provides computer-based security to military installations around the world. Three Marines started the company a little over twenty years ago. It's based here, just to the south of Knoxville, but the techies travel to various bases to do their work. C is really pleased with the job itself, the complexity of it, the challenge of doing something new. There's just one drawback.
He's been assigned to Iraq.
He's not military, but he'll be stationed on base and enjoy all the "benefits" of the base. He won't have to go outside the base while he's there, but should he need to, he'll have an armed guard or ten with him at all times. He's supposed to stay for a year, with 2 weeks' time off every three months. If he can stay a year, and only spend 2 (or maybe 4, I forget which) weeks of leave in the US, he'll receive a tax credit. A very large tax credit. Not that that's worth going to Iraq for, in my opinion, but it does make for a great incentive.
More than likely, C won't be here for Thanksgiving, and he definitely won't be here for Christmas. He'll miss being at home for his 30th birthday in March.
I didn't realize until last night how much I'm going to miss him. I also didn't count on feeling like I want to break down sobbing every time I think about it. He's my first nephew, you know? I remember when he was born. I remember feeding him, then him burping up all over me. :) There are so many things I remember about him from his childhood. And now I look at him and I see this almost 30-year-old man, hugely tall (6'8"), thoughtful, intelligent, good-looking, funny...
I told him today that he was so brave. He chose to take this job and this particular assignment because he wanted the challenge. No one forced him into it.
I pray to God that he comes home alive.
Before he leaves, I'm giving him a medallion with St Michael on one side and a guardian angel on the other, and I'm going to ask him to wear it from then on, for the year he's there. It may not help, but it surely can't hurt.
Goodbye, my little Kissyfur. God be with you, and all the others there. I love you so, so much.
He's been assigned to Iraq.
He's not military, but he'll be stationed on base and enjoy all the "benefits" of the base. He won't have to go outside the base while he's there, but should he need to, he'll have an armed guard or ten with him at all times. He's supposed to stay for a year, with 2 weeks' time off every three months. If he can stay a year, and only spend 2 (or maybe 4, I forget which) weeks of leave in the US, he'll receive a tax credit. A very large tax credit. Not that that's worth going to Iraq for, in my opinion, but it does make for a great incentive.
More than likely, C won't be here for Thanksgiving, and he definitely won't be here for Christmas. He'll miss being at home for his 30th birthday in March.
I didn't realize until last night how much I'm going to miss him. I also didn't count on feeling like I want to break down sobbing every time I think about it. He's my first nephew, you know? I remember when he was born. I remember feeding him, then him burping up all over me. :) There are so many things I remember about him from his childhood. And now I look at him and I see this almost 30-year-old man, hugely tall (6'8"), thoughtful, intelligent, good-looking, funny...
I told him today that he was so brave. He chose to take this job and this particular assignment because he wanted the challenge. No one forced him into it.
I pray to God that he comes home alive.
Before he leaves, I'm giving him a medallion with St Michael on one side and a guardian angel on the other, and I'm going to ask him to wear it from then on, for the year he's there. It may not help, but it surely can't hurt.
Goodbye, my little Kissyfur. God be with you, and all the others there. I love you so, so much.
Friday, October 17, 2008
OI!
CONGRATULATIONS LEATHERMOUTH!
It's wonderful news to read that this old-school, hardcore punk band has signed to Epitaph Records! The guys--ALL of them--have worked so long and so hard for this. Touring with Reggie and the Full Effect brought them out into the public eye; now signing with Epitaph will help them stay there. They deserve all the success they've had so far, and that which they'll undoubtedly receive from here on out.
L and I have been promoting Leathermouth every chance we get. Every time someone asks us about our T-shirts, we explain who LM is, and where that person can hear them. We even pimped the group to Henry Rollins!
Good luck to this excellent group! Can't wait for the next tour!
It's wonderful news to read that this old-school, hardcore punk band has signed to Epitaph Records! The guys--ALL of them--have worked so long and so hard for this. Touring with Reggie and the Full Effect brought them out into the public eye; now signing with Epitaph will help them stay there. They deserve all the success they've had so far, and that which they'll undoubtedly receive from here on out.
L and I have been promoting Leathermouth every chance we get. Every time someone asks us about our T-shirts, we explain who LM is, and where that person can hear them. We even pimped the group to Henry Rollins!
Good luck to this excellent group! Can't wait for the next tour!
Monday, October 13, 2008
Steps
echoes calling my name
out in the deep blue expanse of life
our hands never touch but
our arms are stretched to the limit
we each walk the same road
you on your side
me on mine
that gap between us seems like a million miles
sometimes
but still we keep on walking
season to season and back again
how many steps have we left behind
since the beginning
and how many are yet to be made before
we find our way
i thought you'd left the track
some time ago
distracted by visions
haunted by voices
chased by ghosts
my relief in finding you still beside me
was peculiar in its intensity
yet comforting in its presence
we will walk this road together
you and i
our destination known
but the route uncertain
and if you should stumble
rest easy for
i will carry you then
as i know
you will carry me
J 10.13.08
out in the deep blue expanse of life
our hands never touch but
our arms are stretched to the limit
we each walk the same road
you on your side
me on mine
that gap between us seems like a million miles
sometimes
but still we keep on walking
season to season and back again
how many steps have we left behind
since the beginning
and how many are yet to be made before
we find our way
i thought you'd left the track
some time ago
distracted by visions
haunted by voices
chased by ghosts
my relief in finding you still beside me
was peculiar in its intensity
yet comforting in its presence
we will walk this road together
you and i
our destination known
but the route uncertain
and if you should stumble
rest easy for
i will carry you then
as i know
you will carry me
J 10.13.08
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Now
Are you ready?
Are you ready for this?
Are you spending sleepless nights
Wrapped in both agonies and ecstasies
Dreaming wakeful fantasies
Love and lust and passion
Idealistic, flaming, consuming
Slow homage to your one true love
Hungry rush of need, now
Heady, divine, outpouring ever sweet
I am ready
I am ready for this
I am ready to end the sleepless nights
Ready to begin the ecstasies
Ready for you to come
Are you ready for this?
Are you spending sleepless nights
Wrapped in both agonies and ecstasies
Dreaming wakeful fantasies
Love and lust and passion
Idealistic, flaming, consuming
Slow homage to your one true love
Hungry rush of need, now
Heady, divine, outpouring ever sweet
I am ready
I am ready for this
I am ready to end the sleepless nights
Ready to begin the ecstasies
Ready for you to come
Friday, September 12, 2008
Gone Away
As I write this, we're on the far side of the 'anniversary' of one of the most tragic events in the history of Man. 9-11 made us all realize that, just because we live in "the land of the free and the home of the brave", that doesn't give us the grace to believe we're untouchable. Our borders can be, and have been, breached. We're a target for any group with the organization, the firepower, and the hatred to take us by surprise. 9-11 told us, Hey, we're not invincible.
The saddest part of that day for me was knowing how much unnecessary death and destruction took place in the span of a few minutes. I wondered how the passengers on those planes felt when they realized their lives were almost over. I wondered if I would have been as brave as those people in the Twin Towers were, jumping to certain death or waiting for the fires to claim them. How many men/husbands/fathers/sons/brothers/uncles/friends had perished, knowing they weren't getting out alive. How many women/wives/mothers/daughters/sisters/aunts/friends left this world afraid, not yet ready for the next one.
How many families waited for word from their loved ones, for hours, days, weeks, months...then stopped hoping altogether because to continue hoping was futile, painful, a denial of the horrendous reality.
My sympathies lie not with our government, but with the real heroes: the ones who gave their lives--unwillingly--because of hatred, envy, control.
Makes me look at this blog and wonder how some can be so wicked and cruel to others when things like 9-11 happen. Our generation's equivalent of Pearl Harbor should teach us lessons, not create more cruelty.
Goodnight, and God bless.
As I walk through
This wicked world
Searchin for light in the darkness of insanity.
I ask myself
Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?
And each time I feel like this inside,
Theres one thing I wanna know:
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
And as I walked on
Through troubled times
My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes
So where are the strong
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony.
Cause each time I feel it slippin away, just makes me wanna cry.
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
So where are the strong?
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony.
Cause each time I feel it slippin away, just makes me wanna cry.
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
Peace, Love, and Understanding
Elvis Costello
The saddest part of that day for me was knowing how much unnecessary death and destruction took place in the span of a few minutes. I wondered how the passengers on those planes felt when they realized their lives were almost over. I wondered if I would have been as brave as those people in the Twin Towers were, jumping to certain death or waiting for the fires to claim them. How many men/husbands/fathers/sons/brothers/uncles/friends had perished, knowing they weren't getting out alive. How many women/wives/mothers/daughters/sisters/aunts/friends left this world afraid, not yet ready for the next one.
How many families waited for word from their loved ones, for hours, days, weeks, months...then stopped hoping altogether because to continue hoping was futile, painful, a denial of the horrendous reality.
My sympathies lie not with our government, but with the real heroes: the ones who gave their lives--unwillingly--because of hatred, envy, control.
Makes me look at this blog and wonder how some can be so wicked and cruel to others when things like 9-11 happen. Our generation's equivalent of Pearl Harbor should teach us lessons, not create more cruelty.
Goodnight, and God bless.
As I walk through
This wicked world
Searchin for light in the darkness of insanity.
I ask myself
Is all hope lost?
Is there only pain and hatred, and misery?
And each time I feel like this inside,
Theres one thing I wanna know:
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
And as I walked on
Through troubled times
My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes
So where are the strong
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony.
Cause each time I feel it slippin away, just makes me wanna cry.
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
So where are the strong?
And who are the trusted?
And where is the harmony?
Sweet harmony.
Cause each time I feel it slippin away, just makes me wanna cry.
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
ohhhh
Whats so funny bout peace love & understanding?
Peace, Love, and Understanding
Elvis Costello
Monday, September 8, 2008
"True Colors"
You with the sad eyes
Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize it's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small
But I see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors and that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful
Like a rainbow
Show me a smile then
Don't be unhappy, can't remember when
I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there
And I'll see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors and that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful
Like a rainbow
Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize it's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small
But I see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors and that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful
Like a rainbow
Show me a smile then
Don't be unhappy, can't remember when
I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there
And I'll see your true colors shining through
I see your true colors and that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful
Like a rainbow
Monday, August 18, 2008
No Reality, Only Dream
so here we are now
face-to-disbelieving-face
caught in all that could be
trapped by all that is
a lingering aftershock
brought on by a touch
how much is reality?
how much is a dream?
what shows in your eyes
keeps me warm at night
but a chill overtakes me
come the light of dawn
an empty blanket-covered space
where you don't sleep
reminds me: no reality,
only dream
-J, 8.18.08
face-to-disbelieving-face
caught in all that could be
trapped by all that is
a lingering aftershock
brought on by a touch
how much is reality?
how much is a dream?
what shows in your eyes
keeps me warm at night
but a chill overtakes me
come the light of dawn
an empty blanket-covered space
where you don't sleep
reminds me: no reality,
only dream
-J, 8.18.08
Sunday, July 27, 2008
All About Soul
"The supreme state of human love is...the unity of one soul in two bodies."
--Sri Aurobindo
Recently I've been thinking a lot about soulmates. The concept is extremely fascinating to me. In a nutshell, soulmates are two people who have encountered one another over many years and many past lives. Apparently they don't always fulfill the same role during each lifetime; at some point they might be your cousin, at another they might be your lover. At even another they might not figure greatly in your life at all, serving as a sort of peripheral character. But, if you are each other's soulmate, then you will meet somewhere along the way.
Also, we all have multiple soulmates, both romantic and platonic. Forgot that part.
Ok, I can go with that. L and I seem to be platonic soulmates. That's a lucky draw for us, because according to an author I read recently (Richard Webster), the chances of meeting every one of your soulmates are rather low. Well, at least in the same lifetime...why, I don't know. There wasn't an explanation for that.
He did mention that you're more likely to find your romantic soulmate when you're ready physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Personally, I feel ready; just waiting to see what happens when. If, maybe I should say.
My question is, is my soulmate ready for me?
Only he can answer that, wherever he is.
I hope he does answer...and I hope he's ready.
J
--Sri Aurobindo
Recently I've been thinking a lot about soulmates. The concept is extremely fascinating to me. In a nutshell, soulmates are two people who have encountered one another over many years and many past lives. Apparently they don't always fulfill the same role during each lifetime; at some point they might be your cousin, at another they might be your lover. At even another they might not figure greatly in your life at all, serving as a sort of peripheral character. But, if you are each other's soulmate, then you will meet somewhere along the way.
Also, we all have multiple soulmates, both romantic and platonic. Forgot that part.
Ok, I can go with that. L and I seem to be platonic soulmates. That's a lucky draw for us, because according to an author I read recently (Richard Webster), the chances of meeting every one of your soulmates are rather low. Well, at least in the same lifetime...why, I don't know. There wasn't an explanation for that.
He did mention that you're more likely to find your romantic soulmate when you're ready physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Personally, I feel ready; just waiting to see what happens when. If, maybe I should say.
My question is, is my soulmate ready for me?
Only he can answer that, wherever he is.
I hope he does answer...and I hope he's ready.
J
Saturday, July 19, 2008
The Quietness of Me
Aaaah, silence.
Here, in my own space, I can sit quietly.
I can think about the serious things that are part of my life.
There are difficulties, yes, but there are also aspects I wouldn't trade for anything.
As my life has changed, so has my outlook, and my approach.
I've found that even when I feel nothing but despair,
There is an underlying strength that does not fail me.
My determination has increased tenfold.
My sense of self is greater than it was a year ago.
Nothing will be an obstacle if I choose not to let it be one.
I have a goal:
Happiness.
It has characteristics:
Unconditional love, respect, trust, loyalty, equality.
I will reach my goal; I believe that with all that I am.
I do not know when, or how, or where it will happen.
But it will happen.
With a lot of prayer, and a little luck,
It will happen.
I can feel it...
In my heart.
Here, in my own space, I can sit quietly.
I can think about the serious things that are part of my life.
There are difficulties, yes, but there are also aspects I wouldn't trade for anything.
As my life has changed, so has my outlook, and my approach.
I've found that even when I feel nothing but despair,
There is an underlying strength that does not fail me.
My determination has increased tenfold.
My sense of self is greater than it was a year ago.
Nothing will be an obstacle if I choose not to let it be one.
I have a goal:
Happiness.
It has characteristics:
Unconditional love, respect, trust, loyalty, equality.
I will reach my goal; I believe that with all that I am.
I do not know when, or how, or where it will happen.
But it will happen.
With a lot of prayer, and a little luck,
It will happen.
I can feel it...
In my heart.
Monday, June 30, 2008
It Started Out Pretty Well...
Dear SS,
All yesterday and all day today I've felt that you're in conflict with yourself. I think you're caught in between two decisions and are confused as to how to respond.
The first thing I would suggest is that you ask yourself: Which choice is the best for me? Back in the beginning, I used to tell you to take time for yourself, do things that made you happy. You cannot live your life for other people. I've found out the hard way that that solution doesn't make them happy anyway.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
Next, look at your current situation and figure out: If I keep the status quo, can I live with my decision? I guess this goes along with the first question. Of course, most answers aren't set in stone, and you can usually change your mind.
That being said, number three would be: Go with your gut. Honestly, I don't think I've ever regretted a decision I've made on first thought. Overanalyze, and it can backfire. (And then I end up at my initial decision, thinking why didn't I just do this to begin with?)
Let's put it this way, too. Whatever you decide to do, whatever makes you happy, there's always going to be someone who doesn't like it. That's normal. And unavoidable. To paraphrase a quote, "You can't please all of the people all of the time."
So, when you're wondering what to do, maybe go through these questions and ask yourself:
Which choice will make my heart happy?
Which will give me peace of mind?
Which will make me look forward to my day?
Which comes to mind first when I think of the choices?
I hope some of this helped. Right this second, after picking up my pen again, I feel like I should just stop talking altogether. To everyone. Feel like I hurt more than I help. It's my own fault that I'm attacked all the time. Almost every time I come on Mayo's, I stick my foot in my mouth. No wonder the anons love to harass me, I give them so much ammunition.
I'm sorry, all I've done lately is unload on you. How selfish am I?
Don't think I'm going to be at Mayo's for a while, that is if he leaves it there. I know the anons will be more than ecstatic.
Precious, no matter how difficult this all becomes, I will always be here for you. I know that goes both ways. I love you.
J *feeling very unjappy, very 'yeah you did it again', but apparently too hardheaded to shut up*
All yesterday and all day today I've felt that you're in conflict with yourself. I think you're caught in between two decisions and are confused as to how to respond.
The first thing I would suggest is that you ask yourself: Which choice is the best for me? Back in the beginning, I used to tell you to take time for yourself, do things that made you happy. You cannot live your life for other people. I've found out the hard way that that solution doesn't make them happy anyway.
Damned if you do, damned if you don't.
Next, look at your current situation and figure out: If I keep the status quo, can I live with my decision? I guess this goes along with the first question. Of course, most answers aren't set in stone, and you can usually change your mind.
That being said, number three would be: Go with your gut. Honestly, I don't think I've ever regretted a decision I've made on first thought. Overanalyze, and it can backfire. (And then I end up at my initial decision, thinking why didn't I just do this to begin with?)
Let's put it this way, too. Whatever you decide to do, whatever makes you happy, there's always going to be someone who doesn't like it. That's normal. And unavoidable. To paraphrase a quote, "You can't please all of the people all of the time."
So, when you're wondering what to do, maybe go through these questions and ask yourself:
Which choice will make my heart happy?
Which will give me peace of mind?
Which will make me look forward to my day?
Which comes to mind first when I think of the choices?
I hope some of this helped. Right this second, after picking up my pen again, I feel like I should just stop talking altogether. To everyone. Feel like I hurt more than I help. It's my own fault that I'm attacked all the time. Almost every time I come on Mayo's, I stick my foot in my mouth. No wonder the anons love to harass me, I give them so much ammunition.
I'm sorry, all I've done lately is unload on you. How selfish am I?
Don't think I'm going to be at Mayo's for a while, that is if he leaves it there. I know the anons will be more than ecstatic.
Precious, no matter how difficult this all becomes, I will always be here for you. I know that goes both ways. I love you.
J *feeling very unjappy, very 'yeah you did it again', but apparently too hardheaded to shut up*
Sunday, May 25, 2008
HAPPY BIRTHDAY WEESIE!
Tomorrow is L's birthday--her 40th birthday. I can hardly believe that this much time has passed since we first met. Have I ever told anyone that story? About how I met L? No, you say. Well, it's high time I did. Settle in, get comfortable, get a cool drink and a snack, and enjoy.
It was 1988. I was in graduate school, working towards getting my MA in speech pathology, still living at home, about 7 months post my father's passing. At the time, I had several pen pals from across the US, including one from NC. One day I got a letter from a new person. She told me she'd gotten a letter from this same girl in NC, who was prone to reusing envelopes she'd received letters in from other people. This new writer said our mutual friend had sent her a letter in one of my old envelopes. NC girl's address label had come off, and my address showed instead. New Writer saw that I lived in Knoxville, but didn't know anything about me other than that. Since she lived only about 2 hours away, she thought she'd write to me and see if I might like to start exchanging letters.
After reading her letter, I decided to write back. I told her my name--of course--and some details about myself. I said that it would be great to start writing to each other because we had quite a lot in common.
We exchanged letters for the longest time before we decided to talk on the phone. By that time, it was 1989, and I had moved across the state to take a job that would enable me to be certified as a therapist. I didn't know anyone there, the town was pretty small and completely different in every way I knew. One evening I got a phone call, turns out it was L! We talked for about an hour, maybe longer. We found out we had more things in common than we originally thought. We made promises to talk again, and hung up.
That was the first of many, many, many phone calls, most of which became five- or six-hour marathons. And I don't think there was ever a lull in any of our conversations.
First time we met face-to-face was in 1989. We went to a now-defunct tap house that showed movies on the weekends and hung out for a few hours. Immediately we knew we clicked, and were thrilled to meet someone else who was "just like me!" (Yeah, I know, sounds goofy, but hey, we were young and stupid.)
In 1990, I moved to Chattanooga for a better job, and L came to visit one weekend. She liked it there, too, and eventually got a job that brought her to Chattanooga. She got an apartment about a mile or two from mine, so we hung out together all the time.
And that, my friends, was the beginning of the Punks as you know us today.
We've gone through a lot of changes over the years. We've had some horrible times--but we've had some fantabulous times, too. We made this friendship what it is by learning each other. The most important lessons we've learned are that you respect the other person; you try to support the other as best you can; you do not give up on them if you believe they can be saved; and you love them. No matter what else you believe, no matter what else is happening.
L and I have been best friends for 20 years. And we'll be best friends until we die. Nothing is going to separate us or change the way we feel about each other.
I don't know what I'd do without her. She is a special gift in my life, priceless and beautiful.
And believe me, if anyone tries to hurt her, in any way, you will definitely have to deal with me.
I love you, L! *hugs and kisses*
Jen-Jen
It was 1988. I was in graduate school, working towards getting my MA in speech pathology, still living at home, about 7 months post my father's passing. At the time, I had several pen pals from across the US, including one from NC. One day I got a letter from a new person. She told me she'd gotten a letter from this same girl in NC, who was prone to reusing envelopes she'd received letters in from other people. This new writer said our mutual friend had sent her a letter in one of my old envelopes. NC girl's address label had come off, and my address showed instead. New Writer saw that I lived in Knoxville, but didn't know anything about me other than that. Since she lived only about 2 hours away, she thought she'd write to me and see if I might like to start exchanging letters.
After reading her letter, I decided to write back. I told her my name--of course--and some details about myself. I said that it would be great to start writing to each other because we had quite a lot in common.
We exchanged letters for the longest time before we decided to talk on the phone. By that time, it was 1989, and I had moved across the state to take a job that would enable me to be certified as a therapist. I didn't know anyone there, the town was pretty small and completely different in every way I knew. One evening I got a phone call, turns out it was L! We talked for about an hour, maybe longer. We found out we had more things in common than we originally thought. We made promises to talk again, and hung up.
That was the first of many, many, many phone calls, most of which became five- or six-hour marathons. And I don't think there was ever a lull in any of our conversations.
First time we met face-to-face was in 1989. We went to a now-defunct tap house that showed movies on the weekends and hung out for a few hours. Immediately we knew we clicked, and were thrilled to meet someone else who was "just like me!" (Yeah, I know, sounds goofy, but hey, we were young and stupid.)
In 1990, I moved to Chattanooga for a better job, and L came to visit one weekend. She liked it there, too, and eventually got a job that brought her to Chattanooga. She got an apartment about a mile or two from mine, so we hung out together all the time.
And that, my friends, was the beginning of the Punks as you know us today.
We've gone through a lot of changes over the years. We've had some horrible times--but we've had some fantabulous times, too. We made this friendship what it is by learning each other. The most important lessons we've learned are that you respect the other person; you try to support the other as best you can; you do not give up on them if you believe they can be saved; and you love them. No matter what else you believe, no matter what else is happening.
L and I have been best friends for 20 years. And we'll be best friends until we die. Nothing is going to separate us or change the way we feel about each other.
I don't know what I'd do without her. She is a special gift in my life, priceless and beautiful.
And believe me, if anyone tries to hurt her, in any way, you will definitely have to deal with me.
I love you, L! *hugs and kisses*
Jen-Jen
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Through the Storm We Reach the Shore
This is just amazing, and confusing, but sadly, not surprising.
SS has a moment--ONE MOMENT--of being human, and he gets slaughtered. Why? For showing emotion? For having his faith in others diminished? For speaking out about that loss of faith?
Or maybe for expressing a different opinion than that of the anonymouses.
You see, SS isn't afraid to stand up for what he believes in, no matter what the results. He tries very, very hard to keep everyone happy, but he still gets his point across. Some people get his point, and some people don't. Just like Elena and TJ and I were talking about with Mayo: you either do, or you don't.
But guys, some people tend to forget that SS IS HUMAN TOO. He's got a temper, just like we all do. He reaches a breaking point, just like we all do. He blows up, just like we all do. It's ok.
Suddenly we have people showing up and calling him "patronizing" and implying he's looking for attention. SS? Are you kidding me? Have you MET the man? He ALWAYS puts others first. ALWAYS. If all you long-timers remember, that's the whole reason he came to Mayo's in the first place: to help his friend. Regardless of what it cost him personally, he was going to help his friend because that's what friends do. THEY HELP EACH OTHER.
We were fortunate enough to gain the trust, respect, and love of not only SS, but also Mayo. Two wonderful, beautiful, generous men who try to help us any way they can. And you know what? They ask for nothing in return...not even our friendship, loyalty, trust, respect, and love.
And now look what they ARE getting from some people.
I'm not above an argument, an emotional outburst, whatever. I'm human, too. But I know who my real friends are.
Can you Vultures say the same?
J
Addendum: I posted this at Mayo's about half an hour ago. But you know, repetition for emphasis.
SS, it's one thing for them to attack me, or L. We just let it slide off our backs now. The minute they drag you into it, though, well...
They should know by now.
SS has a moment--ONE MOMENT--of being human, and he gets slaughtered. Why? For showing emotion? For having his faith in others diminished? For speaking out about that loss of faith?
Or maybe for expressing a different opinion than that of the anonymouses.
You see, SS isn't afraid to stand up for what he believes in, no matter what the results. He tries very, very hard to keep everyone happy, but he still gets his point across. Some people get his point, and some people don't. Just like Elena and TJ and I were talking about with Mayo: you either do, or you don't.
But guys, some people tend to forget that SS IS HUMAN TOO. He's got a temper, just like we all do. He reaches a breaking point, just like we all do. He blows up, just like we all do. It's ok.
Suddenly we have people showing up and calling him "patronizing" and implying he's looking for attention. SS? Are you kidding me? Have you MET the man? He ALWAYS puts others first. ALWAYS. If all you long-timers remember, that's the whole reason he came to Mayo's in the first place: to help his friend. Regardless of what it cost him personally, he was going to help his friend because that's what friends do. THEY HELP EACH OTHER.
We were fortunate enough to gain the trust, respect, and love of not only SS, but also Mayo. Two wonderful, beautiful, generous men who try to help us any way they can. And you know what? They ask for nothing in return...not even our friendship, loyalty, trust, respect, and love.
And now look what they ARE getting from some people.
I'm not above an argument, an emotional outburst, whatever. I'm human, too. But I know who my real friends are.
Can you Vultures say the same?
J
Addendum: I posted this at Mayo's about half an hour ago. But you know, repetition for emphasis.
SS, it's one thing for them to attack me, or L. We just let it slide off our backs now. The minute they drag you into it, though, well...
They should know by now.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Zoo Station
So I've just gotten done feeding all the furry babies and having a blood sugar drop. Of course the most logical thing to do next is...write a blog post!
L is currently out of town, so I'm taking care of all the fuzzies. It takes a little time to feed five animals and medicate two, so I started early. The cats, which are technically mine, are not difficult to feed. Pass out treats, put fresh crunchy food in their bowls, replace the water in their other bowls, we're good to go. The bunnies, which are technically L's, take a little more time as their cages are in two different rooms.
Now, before I went to my mom's today, I told the older bunny that I would let him out of his cage to play after I got back. (Yes, I know, it sounds weird, but he "disapproves" if you don't inform him of your plans. My older cat is exactly the same way.) Not a problem, right? Shouldn't have been, but I got home later than usual.
The bunny was not amused.
He jumped out of his cage and immediately hopped over to the jug of spring water they drink. Getting behind it, he proceeded to push the water jug into the middle of the room, where he left it and turned a disdainful eye on me. You could just hear the little bunny voice saying, "Leave me in my cage all day, will you? Well, that'll show you!" I couldn't help it, I laughed for ten minutes. I don't think he liked me laughing at him because a few minutes later, he started eating the bag of litter that was next to his cage. He'll tear bits of papery things off the objects they cover when he gets bored, but tonight he was bent on revenge, that bunny. When I picked up the bag to move it out of his reach--yeah, you guessed it--it was turned almost upside down, and litter pellets came pouring out all over the floor. It's that Yesterday's News stuff, so it looks like food pellets. What did the bunny do? Of course. He started eating the litter pellets.
It was not a pretty moment.
Luckily, I got the mess cleaned up, and the bag of litter is now resting quietly in the bathroom. The bunny is pouting next to his cage, but he has real food in his bowl and will not be reduced to eating litter pellets instead.
And to think, we have furry babies because "they're so much easier than human children!"
...yeeeah. Right. Somebody remind me of that when I'm cleaning cat-yack off the carpet. ;)
J
L is currently out of town, so I'm taking care of all the fuzzies. It takes a little time to feed five animals and medicate two, so I started early. The cats, which are technically mine, are not difficult to feed. Pass out treats, put fresh crunchy food in their bowls, replace the water in their other bowls, we're good to go. The bunnies, which are technically L's, take a little more time as their cages are in two different rooms.
Now, before I went to my mom's today, I told the older bunny that I would let him out of his cage to play after I got back. (Yes, I know, it sounds weird, but he "disapproves" if you don't inform him of your plans. My older cat is exactly the same way.) Not a problem, right? Shouldn't have been, but I got home later than usual.
The bunny was not amused.
He jumped out of his cage and immediately hopped over to the jug of spring water they drink. Getting behind it, he proceeded to push the water jug into the middle of the room, where he left it and turned a disdainful eye on me. You could just hear the little bunny voice saying, "Leave me in my cage all day, will you? Well, that'll show you!" I couldn't help it, I laughed for ten minutes. I don't think he liked me laughing at him because a few minutes later, he started eating the bag of litter that was next to his cage. He'll tear bits of papery things off the objects they cover when he gets bored, but tonight he was bent on revenge, that bunny. When I picked up the bag to move it out of his reach--yeah, you guessed it--it was turned almost upside down, and litter pellets came pouring out all over the floor. It's that Yesterday's News stuff, so it looks like food pellets. What did the bunny do? Of course. He started eating the litter pellets.
It was not a pretty moment.
Luckily, I got the mess cleaned up, and the bag of litter is now resting quietly in the bathroom. The bunny is pouting next to his cage, but he has real food in his bowl and will not be reduced to eating litter pellets instead.
And to think, we have furry babies because "they're so much easier than human children!"
...yeeeah. Right. Somebody remind me of that when I'm cleaning cat-yack off the carpet. ;)
J
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Message In a Bottle
Dear SS,
This is the only place I have left to talk with you, and even this place is compromised. I hate that more than anything that's happened, that I don't feel safe talking to you anymore, anywhere. The number of "hits" on our profile has risen drastically since we were shoved out of the Big House. Yet, the number of comments doesn't match. You can see what I'm thinking here, can't you?
Enough of that. I wanted to talk with you like old times. How're you doing? I caught your location reference yesterday. ;) Nice, that. Rather inspired. Then again, you've always been a clever thing.
Since I haven't been posting, I've been doing a lot of reading, and a fair amount of writing, too. I decided to read American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. Have you read it? I could've sworn I read it when it was first published, but I can't remember. Let me tell you, if you haven't read it, the two words that best describe it are pornographic and violent. Lots of detail as well, but that doesn't get to me. In fact, the sex commentary sounds a lot like what I write. Which leads into the writing I've been doing...nope, sorry, no details here. Save that for another time. I have written a poem for you, though, it's a "miss you" poem. Wish you could read it, but I just don't feel comfortable posting it publicly.
We did go see Henry Rollins last Sunday. It was a marvelous show; he spoke for almost three and a half hours. Nonstop. And only took two sips of water. The man is unstoppable. He talked of his travels to foreign countries like Pakistan, Lebanon, Africa, etc, and the people he's met there. He was eight miles from where Benizir Bhutto died, on the day she died. He's done some brave, amazing things. He's also extremely funny, and humble, so humble you'd never know he was "somebody". He refers to himself as "a grey-haired, 47-year-old man". But he never stops working.
The things he's seen make the incidents at Mayo's look horribly blown out of proportion.
After all this time, I'd like to think you know me well enough to know I'm not capable of doing the things of which I've been accused. We've become close over the past six months; I believe in you, I have faith in you, I love you. I'm hoping that you still believe in, have faith in, and love me too.
You know I'm an email away, if you feel you can do that.
I miss you, precious. Take care of yourself, because I'm not there to do it for you.
Its all about the love, even now. Right?
Goodnight, babydoll.
J
P.S. Almost forgot! We're now going to TWO MCR shows, May 2 and May 4. We're both really excited about those trips. We're going to try to meet the guys again, like we did in Charlotte. Maybe, with some luck, that'll happen...
This is the only place I have left to talk with you, and even this place is compromised. I hate that more than anything that's happened, that I don't feel safe talking to you anymore, anywhere. The number of "hits" on our profile has risen drastically since we were shoved out of the Big House. Yet, the number of comments doesn't match. You can see what I'm thinking here, can't you?
Enough of that. I wanted to talk with you like old times. How're you doing? I caught your location reference yesterday. ;) Nice, that. Rather inspired. Then again, you've always been a clever thing.
Since I haven't been posting, I've been doing a lot of reading, and a fair amount of writing, too. I decided to read American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis. Have you read it? I could've sworn I read it when it was first published, but I can't remember. Let me tell you, if you haven't read it, the two words that best describe it are pornographic and violent. Lots of detail as well, but that doesn't get to me. In fact, the sex commentary sounds a lot like what I write. Which leads into the writing I've been doing...nope, sorry, no details here. Save that for another time. I have written a poem for you, though, it's a "miss you" poem. Wish you could read it, but I just don't feel comfortable posting it publicly.
We did go see Henry Rollins last Sunday. It was a marvelous show; he spoke for almost three and a half hours. Nonstop. And only took two sips of water. The man is unstoppable. He talked of his travels to foreign countries like Pakistan, Lebanon, Africa, etc, and the people he's met there. He was eight miles from where Benizir Bhutto died, on the day she died. He's done some brave, amazing things. He's also extremely funny, and humble, so humble you'd never know he was "somebody". He refers to himself as "a grey-haired, 47-year-old man". But he never stops working.
The things he's seen make the incidents at Mayo's look horribly blown out of proportion.
After all this time, I'd like to think you know me well enough to know I'm not capable of doing the things of which I've been accused. We've become close over the past six months; I believe in you, I have faith in you, I love you. I'm hoping that you still believe in, have faith in, and love me too.
You know I'm an email away, if you feel you can do that.
I miss you, precious. Take care of yourself, because I'm not there to do it for you.
Its all about the love, even now. Right?
Goodnight, babydoll.
J
P.S. Almost forgot! We're now going to TWO MCR shows, May 2 and May 4. We're both really excited about those trips. We're going to try to meet the guys again, like we did in Charlotte. Maybe, with some luck, that'll happen...
Sunday, February 24, 2008
For Frank
Dear Frank,
If you happen to come by here and see this post, please accept our sincerest, deepest sympathies on the loss of your grandmother. Her passing, so close on the heels of your other grandmother's, is surely taking a toll on your heart and soul.
L has lost all her grandparents in the past. I never knew any of mine, but I did lose my dad. Grieving, as I recently told a good friend of ours, is shit. There are so many levels of grief, and they all hit at different times, in different ways and intensities. Sometimes the smallest thing will trigger a memory, and you'll find yourself standing in the middle of a bookstore, wondering if they'd like you to bring them home the latest novel by their favorite author. Or you'll be walking down the street, and someone passes you who resembles them, even slightly, and you'll have to stop yourself from calling out to say hello.
I'm sure that both your grandmothers were fine women. They must have been, to be part of the Iero family.
L asked me to post these lyrics for you in hopes that the words might provide a little comfort.
Jet "Shine On"
Please don't cry
You know I'm leaving here tonight
Before I go I want you to know that there will always be a light
And if the moon had to runaway
And all the stars didn't wanna play
Don't waste the sun on a rainy day
The wind will soon blow it all away
So many times I'd planned
To be much more than who I am
And if I let you down I will follow you 'round until you understand
That if the moon had to runaway
And all the stars didn't wanna play
Don't waste the sun on a rainy day
The wind will soon blow it all away
When the days all seem the same
Don't feel the cold or wind or rain
Everything will be okay
We will meet again one day
I will shine on, for everyone
So please don't cry
Although I leave you here this night
Where ever I may go how far I don't know
But I will always be your light
That if the moon had to runaway
And all the stars didn't wanna play
Don't waste the sun on a rainy day
The wind will soon blow it all away
When the days all seem the same
Don't feel the cold or wind or rain
Everything will be okay
We will meet again one day
I will shine on, for everyone
When the days all seem the same
Don't feel the cold or wind or rain
Everything will be okayWe will meet again one day
I will shine on, for everyone
I'm so sorry, sweetheart. It will get better, in time.
love, J
If you happen to come by here and see this post, please accept our sincerest, deepest sympathies on the loss of your grandmother. Her passing, so close on the heels of your other grandmother's, is surely taking a toll on your heart and soul.
L has lost all her grandparents in the past. I never knew any of mine, but I did lose my dad. Grieving, as I recently told a good friend of ours, is shit. There are so many levels of grief, and they all hit at different times, in different ways and intensities. Sometimes the smallest thing will trigger a memory, and you'll find yourself standing in the middle of a bookstore, wondering if they'd like you to bring them home the latest novel by their favorite author. Or you'll be walking down the street, and someone passes you who resembles them, even slightly, and you'll have to stop yourself from calling out to say hello.
I'm sure that both your grandmothers were fine women. They must have been, to be part of the Iero family.
L asked me to post these lyrics for you in hopes that the words might provide a little comfort.
Jet "Shine On"
Please don't cry
You know I'm leaving here tonight
Before I go I want you to know that there will always be a light
And if the moon had to runaway
And all the stars didn't wanna play
Don't waste the sun on a rainy day
The wind will soon blow it all away
So many times I'd planned
To be much more than who I am
And if I let you down I will follow you 'round until you understand
That if the moon had to runaway
And all the stars didn't wanna play
Don't waste the sun on a rainy day
The wind will soon blow it all away
When the days all seem the same
Don't feel the cold or wind or rain
Everything will be okay
We will meet again one day
I will shine on, for everyone
So please don't cry
Although I leave you here this night
Where ever I may go how far I don't know
But I will always be your light
That if the moon had to runaway
And all the stars didn't wanna play
Don't waste the sun on a rainy day
The wind will soon blow it all away
When the days all seem the same
Don't feel the cold or wind or rain
Everything will be okay
We will meet again one day
I will shine on, for everyone
When the days all seem the same
Don't feel the cold or wind or rain
Everything will be okayWe will meet again one day
I will shine on, for everyone
I'm so sorry, sweetheart. It will get better, in time.
love, J
Friday, February 22, 2008
Thank You For the Venom
Why do anons snipe at us? Why not some of the others? Not that I wish the others to be jumped on, I mean out of all the people at The Big House, how did we get singled out? Kinda makes me want to look myself over and see if anything's out of place. Did we, like, offend the Great Anon in the Field or something? Should I be offering sacrifices?
We've been called farm animals, used-up hags, and various names that I will not repeat. Today I was called a crazy old windbag, which is my favorite so far. My personal anatomy has been called into question several times. I've also been accused of talking incessantly about Frank Iero's personal anatomy. Come on, I haven't even seen Frank's personal anatomy. Not that I would mind...but if I had, I certainly would not talk about it.
Oh yeah, I forgot. Yesterday an unnamed mythical creature all but said we drove someone to suicidal actions. That was fucking over the line.
And you know what pisses me off, maybe the most? All the lies. They accuse us of doing things that we don't do. Fuck, half the time we're not even around when they say we've done such-and-such. Where do they get their information? Oh, I know. FOX News. :P
So how do some of the other regulars get away with the things they say and do and promote without getting blasted off the face of the Earth? Why is how they behave tolerated, condoned, even applauded? Beats the everlovin' shit outta me. My best guess is fear. Fear of the person/s in question, of their harsh reactions, their taunting, their endless picking at the bones of your pride.
Nobody's pushing me out of the way, though. Hopefully, with time, L will feel like coming back. For now, she can't stand the thought of dealing with all the shit. (I would've used a stronger word than "shit", but I just can't think of any.) Luckily, we have many good, true friends who stand by us and support us, and we're eternally grateful. They far outweigh the bad folks.
And there's a couple of guys there, too, who make it worthwhile to stay. But since I've already mentioned "good, true friends", I didn't really need to point them out separately.
Thanks, guys.
Pactum Serva. Its all about the love.
(Well, maybe some of it's about bashing Vultures. But its mostly about the love.)
J
We've been called farm animals, used-up hags, and various names that I will not repeat. Today I was called a crazy old windbag, which is my favorite so far. My personal anatomy has been called into question several times. I've also been accused of talking incessantly about Frank Iero's personal anatomy. Come on, I haven't even seen Frank's personal anatomy. Not that I would mind...but if I had, I certainly would not talk about it.
Oh yeah, I forgot. Yesterday an unnamed mythical creature all but said we drove someone to suicidal actions. That was fucking over the line.
And you know what pisses me off, maybe the most? All the lies. They accuse us of doing things that we don't do. Fuck, half the time we're not even around when they say we've done such-and-such. Where do they get their information? Oh, I know. FOX News. :P
So how do some of the other regulars get away with the things they say and do and promote without getting blasted off the face of the Earth? Why is how they behave tolerated, condoned, even applauded? Beats the everlovin' shit outta me. My best guess is fear. Fear of the person/s in question, of their harsh reactions, their taunting, their endless picking at the bones of your pride.
Nobody's pushing me out of the way, though. Hopefully, with time, L will feel like coming back. For now, she can't stand the thought of dealing with all the shit. (I would've used a stronger word than "shit", but I just can't think of any.) Luckily, we have many good, true friends who stand by us and support us, and we're eternally grateful. They far outweigh the bad folks.
And there's a couple of guys there, too, who make it worthwhile to stay. But since I've already mentioned "good, true friends", I didn't really need to point them out separately.
Thanks, guys.
Pactum Serva. Its all about the love.
(Well, maybe some of it's about bashing Vultures. But its mostly about the love.)
J
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
It Was Twenty Years Ago Today...
...that one of the world's kindest people passed away. He was my father. I want to share a little bit of him with you, so that you might know him, at least vicariously, through my words.
My dad was born here in Knoxville in 1922. He was the second of what would later be three sons. I don't know a great deal about his childhood, but I know it wasn't particularly easy, or always pleasant. When he was eight, their mother died three days after giving birth to the third son. Their father remarried, at least a couple of times, but the boys ended up being shuffled around between various family members. One of Granddaddy's wives was literally insane; she would chase the boys around the house with a butcher knife.
When my dad was, I believe, 16, he met my mother. It was at a church revival and he was there with another girl. Turns out, he and this other girl came back to my mom's parents' house afterwards. My mom has told me that when she saw him, the very first time she saw him, she knew he was the one she was going to marry.
The following June, her "prediction" came true.
He was 17; she was 14.
My dad was in the service for a total of 30 years, first in the Army, then the Air Force. He served his position well; he was a supply sergeant, based in many different bases across Europe. He not only provided everything the base would need, from shoes to airplane parts, he also aided in saving and evacuating civilians during crisis times. He received commendations, awards, and to top it off, the highest rank a non-commissioned officer can attain. The rank of Chief Master Sergeant, E9, was created during the 1960s, and my father was the second man ever to receive that rank. (I've since found out that the Air Force only awards this rank every two years, and in its history, there have been only fifteen men who have received this honor.)
My father was also one of the most generous, selfless people I've ever known. When my family was overseas--this was during the '40s and '50s, before I was born--my dad would befriend some of the younger men in his unit, and if they were single, would often bring them home for dinner so they wouldn't be alone all the time. He was always inviting them for the holidays, too, and went out of his way to make them feel like part of the family. He was a coach for one of the basketball teams; he was a sponsor for the Rainbow Girls (offshoot of the Masons and Eastern Star civic clubs); he was a Mason, and held a high-ranking position in their organization for many years.
Even after he retired from the military, he kept that sense of family and welcome. He made easy friends, seemed to know everyone in Knoxville--including Congressman John Duncan!--and was well-liked by all his customers at the Oldsmobile dealership where he worked.
In their 48 years of marriage, I never once heard my parents argue. That was due largely to my father, who grew up surrounded by conflict. He told my mother early on that he never wanted to argue with her because he'd had enough of it to last a lifetime. So, if they disagreed, he would invariably leave the room, go downstairs, go outside, whatever. But I never heard him utter an unkind word to my mother.
And I never heard him curse, either, although I'm sure he did when I wasn't around. :)
My dad developed leukemia when he was 65. It was an extremely aggressive type, a fast mover, one that usually strikes young children. At first he spent a week in the hospital for chemo treatments. I have never seen anything take such a toll on anyone as I did my daddy with that chemo. It aged him at least 10 years in that week. And chemo is not fun to go through; it makes you weak, nauseous, strips you of your hair, your weight, your dignity, your spirit. But he managed to make it past all those drugs, and came home at the end of that week. Two months later, he had to check back in for more chemo and, this time, transfusions. When he came home this time, he was even more depleted than before. This time, too, he was depressed. And, I believe, scared.
He had his last Christmas that year.
In February of '88, Daddy entered the hospital again, for phlebitis (swelling) of the knee.
(As I write this sentence, it's 2.53 am. The exact moment my father passed away, twenty years ago. I can barely see the monitor for my tears.)
He was due to come home the very day he died. I don't think I can go into the details of what happened that night; suffice to say, he suffered a hemorrhage in his brain that essentially took him away. He was still alive for about 6 hours after that, but the soul that was my father was gone. In the span of five months, he became ill, he suffered, and he died. Five months? It felt more like five days. Or five minutes.
One of the greatest ironies of that night? My dad always used to say, "It's Friday!" because that was his optimistic way of dealing with a terrible work week...
February 12, 1988 was a Friday.
Now all his days are Fridays.
Hey, Daddy--your little Pooh misses you, so very very much.
All my love, always.
Jenny
My dad was born here in Knoxville in 1922. He was the second of what would later be three sons. I don't know a great deal about his childhood, but I know it wasn't particularly easy, or always pleasant. When he was eight, their mother died three days after giving birth to the third son. Their father remarried, at least a couple of times, but the boys ended up being shuffled around between various family members. One of Granddaddy's wives was literally insane; she would chase the boys around the house with a butcher knife.
When my dad was, I believe, 16, he met my mother. It was at a church revival and he was there with another girl. Turns out, he and this other girl came back to my mom's parents' house afterwards. My mom has told me that when she saw him, the very first time she saw him, she knew he was the one she was going to marry.
The following June, her "prediction" came true.
He was 17; she was 14.
My dad was in the service for a total of 30 years, first in the Army, then the Air Force. He served his position well; he was a supply sergeant, based in many different bases across Europe. He not only provided everything the base would need, from shoes to airplane parts, he also aided in saving and evacuating civilians during crisis times. He received commendations, awards, and to top it off, the highest rank a non-commissioned officer can attain. The rank of Chief Master Sergeant, E9, was created during the 1960s, and my father was the second man ever to receive that rank. (I've since found out that the Air Force only awards this rank every two years, and in its history, there have been only fifteen men who have received this honor.)
My father was also one of the most generous, selfless people I've ever known. When my family was overseas--this was during the '40s and '50s, before I was born--my dad would befriend some of the younger men in his unit, and if they were single, would often bring them home for dinner so they wouldn't be alone all the time. He was always inviting them for the holidays, too, and went out of his way to make them feel like part of the family. He was a coach for one of the basketball teams; he was a sponsor for the Rainbow Girls (offshoot of the Masons and Eastern Star civic clubs); he was a Mason, and held a high-ranking position in their organization for many years.
Even after he retired from the military, he kept that sense of family and welcome. He made easy friends, seemed to know everyone in Knoxville--including Congressman John Duncan!--and was well-liked by all his customers at the Oldsmobile dealership where he worked.
In their 48 years of marriage, I never once heard my parents argue. That was due largely to my father, who grew up surrounded by conflict. He told my mother early on that he never wanted to argue with her because he'd had enough of it to last a lifetime. So, if they disagreed, he would invariably leave the room, go downstairs, go outside, whatever. But I never heard him utter an unkind word to my mother.
And I never heard him curse, either, although I'm sure he did when I wasn't around. :)
My dad developed leukemia when he was 65. It was an extremely aggressive type, a fast mover, one that usually strikes young children. At first he spent a week in the hospital for chemo treatments. I have never seen anything take such a toll on anyone as I did my daddy with that chemo. It aged him at least 10 years in that week. And chemo is not fun to go through; it makes you weak, nauseous, strips you of your hair, your weight, your dignity, your spirit. But he managed to make it past all those drugs, and came home at the end of that week. Two months later, he had to check back in for more chemo and, this time, transfusions. When he came home this time, he was even more depleted than before. This time, too, he was depressed. And, I believe, scared.
He had his last Christmas that year.
In February of '88, Daddy entered the hospital again, for phlebitis (swelling) of the knee.
(As I write this sentence, it's 2.53 am. The exact moment my father passed away, twenty years ago. I can barely see the monitor for my tears.)
He was due to come home the very day he died. I don't think I can go into the details of what happened that night; suffice to say, he suffered a hemorrhage in his brain that essentially took him away. He was still alive for about 6 hours after that, but the soul that was my father was gone. In the span of five months, he became ill, he suffered, and he died. Five months? It felt more like five days. Or five minutes.
One of the greatest ironies of that night? My dad always used to say, "It's Friday!" because that was his optimistic way of dealing with a terrible work week...
February 12, 1988 was a Friday.
Now all his days are Fridays.
Hey, Daddy--your little Pooh misses you, so very very much.
All my love, always.
Jenny
Friday, January 25, 2008
White Wedding
Over the years, even as recently as today, various people have asked me, "Are you married?" I've always said "No," of course, which invariably leads to, "Why not? You're so (insert appropriate adjective here) ." I've either answered, "Because I don't want to be married right now," or "I haven't met a man I could put up with for that long," or "Nobody's asked me." At this point, the questioner usually gives me a look of either incredulousness or disdain, depending on their gender, age, or own marital status.
See, in the South, a grand majority of your worth, if you're a woman, is based on who you're married to, who you're getting ready to marry, or who you've been married to before. "Single" is considered by many to be a disease more than a lifestyle choice. Older Southerners, especially, have a hard time wrapping their minds around that concept. It's just not done, unless you're "ugly" or "feeble-minded". Hell, sometimes that doesn't even count.
Of course, there's always the label of "that way." That's my personal favorite.
As I've grown older, though, I've realized that being married would be...good. Not an enthusiastic endorsement, I know, but "good" encompasses a lot of ground in my estimation. (Did you like all the "e" words? Completely unintentional, believe it or not.) I mean, everyone has their reasons for being part of a couple, but for me, marriage would have to be an equal partnership.
None of that "I'm the man, you're the little woman, you have to stay home, keep house, have my kids, have no life except being Mrs. Me, doing what I tell you to do, voicing no opinions," blah de blah de blah. I've always said that if I do marry someone, he's going to have to be more special than anyone else I've met. He will have to be a man who's secure in himself, who doesn't feel threatened by a strong woman. He will have to be extremely intelligent; funny as fuck; laid-back; well-read; an animal lover; a music lover. He will have to be kind, gentle yet strong in character, just jealous enough to stand up for me, supportive. He's going to have to "get" me. He's going to know. and be. what turns me on, both sexually and intellectually.
As for looks, I don't go for conventionally good-looking men. I admit to having a "type" that I'm drawn to most often, and those of you who've read my "About Me" list at the Big House know what that is. Physical attractiveness, in my book, is based on whatever you find attractive about that person, not necessarily their appearance. Who I think is good-looking may not appeal to someone else, but they do to me because they have "it", that thing that just flat does it for me. I can't explain it, but y'all probably know what I mean. And if the personality is good, then the face and body are good.
Before you say anything, I know you can't get every quality that you want in the person that you meet. But you need to make sure that they have MOST of those in order to be compatible and to want to be with them the rest of your life. Too many people settle, I've talked about that before.
I don't want to settle. I don't have to settle. That's where I feel I have an advantage over some people: I'm not afraid to be alone. I like to be alone. I've done it before. And I don't base my worth on whether I'm single or married. I like myself as myself, by myself or with someone. The man I marry will have to be the same.
If I met the right man tomorrow, and he asked me, I would marry him. Regardless of whatever else was going on in my life. See, I think that if you find THE person you're supposed to be with, you'll know it. It won't matter how long you've known them, where they live, how old they are, race, religion, political affiliation, "class", financial status. Whatever the odds, when you meet that person, your soulmate, the two of you will be together eventually. Nothing can deter that. I believe that with all my heart, and if that makes me a hopeless romantic (or maybe you call it stupid), then so be it. I've seen it happen too many times not to believe.
I still believe for myself. My soulmate's out there. I can feel him.
We just gotta connect.
I wonder...
Can he feel me too?
I'll wait and find out.
J
See, in the South, a grand majority of your worth, if you're a woman, is based on who you're married to, who you're getting ready to marry, or who you've been married to before. "Single" is considered by many to be a disease more than a lifestyle choice. Older Southerners, especially, have a hard time wrapping their minds around that concept. It's just not done, unless you're "ugly" or "feeble-minded". Hell, sometimes that doesn't even count.
Of course, there's always the label of "that way." That's my personal favorite.
As I've grown older, though, I've realized that being married would be...good. Not an enthusiastic endorsement, I know, but "good" encompasses a lot of ground in my estimation. (Did you like all the "e" words? Completely unintentional, believe it or not.) I mean, everyone has their reasons for being part of a couple, but for me, marriage would have to be an equal partnership.
None of that "I'm the man, you're the little woman, you have to stay home, keep house, have my kids, have no life except being Mrs. Me, doing what I tell you to do, voicing no opinions," blah de blah de blah. I've always said that if I do marry someone, he's going to have to be more special than anyone else I've met. He will have to be a man who's secure in himself, who doesn't feel threatened by a strong woman. He will have to be extremely intelligent; funny as fuck; laid-back; well-read; an animal lover; a music lover. He will have to be kind, gentle yet strong in character, just jealous enough to stand up for me, supportive. He's going to have to "get" me. He's going to know. and be. what turns me on, both sexually and intellectually.
As for looks, I don't go for conventionally good-looking men. I admit to having a "type" that I'm drawn to most often, and those of you who've read my "About Me" list at the Big House know what that is. Physical attractiveness, in my book, is based on whatever you find attractive about that person, not necessarily their appearance. Who I think is good-looking may not appeal to someone else, but they do to me because they have "it", that thing that just flat does it for me. I can't explain it, but y'all probably know what I mean. And if the personality is good, then the face and body are good.
Before you say anything, I know you can't get every quality that you want in the person that you meet. But you need to make sure that they have MOST of those in order to be compatible and to want to be with them the rest of your life. Too many people settle, I've talked about that before.
I don't want to settle. I don't have to settle. That's where I feel I have an advantage over some people: I'm not afraid to be alone. I like to be alone. I've done it before. And I don't base my worth on whether I'm single or married. I like myself as myself, by myself or with someone. The man I marry will have to be the same.
If I met the right man tomorrow, and he asked me, I would marry him. Regardless of whatever else was going on in my life. See, I think that if you find THE person you're supposed to be with, you'll know it. It won't matter how long you've known them, where they live, how old they are, race, religion, political affiliation, "class", financial status. Whatever the odds, when you meet that person, your soulmate, the two of you will be together eventually. Nothing can deter that. I believe that with all my heart, and if that makes me a hopeless romantic (or maybe you call it stupid), then so be it. I've seen it happen too many times not to believe.
I still believe for myself. My soulmate's out there. I can feel him.
We just gotta connect.
I wonder...
Can he feel me too?
I'll wait and find out.
J
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
"The Heart Sees What the Eyes Cannot"
Falling, and memories of falling
Fill my night with emptiness and loss of persuasion
I am not aware of what surrounds me,
All I know is darkness, and the void, and alone.
Here in the darkness, the blackness, the absence of All,
I plunge my hands into the vapor, and hit You.
You are shrouded in the darkness, no feature visible, only the sensation of Touch enough to guide us to that meeting spot, that niche of convergence.
We collide gently in the blackness, a small earthquake pealing through our outstretched arms, hands, fingers.
Searching for a light in that unbreakable vacuum, a chance encounter reveals one soft, glowing illumination bright only for two, just enough to reveal the real you, the real me.
We shall collide softly, tenderly, in the light of our own making, a halo brought into existence by our faith in each other.
J 1.16.08
Fill my night with emptiness and loss of persuasion
I am not aware of what surrounds me,
All I know is darkness, and the void, and alone.
Here in the darkness, the blackness, the absence of All,
I plunge my hands into the vapor, and hit You.
You are shrouded in the darkness, no feature visible, only the sensation of Touch enough to guide us to that meeting spot, that niche of convergence.
We collide gently in the blackness, a small earthquake pealing through our outstretched arms, hands, fingers.
Searching for a light in that unbreakable vacuum, a chance encounter reveals one soft, glowing illumination bright only for two, just enough to reveal the real you, the real me.
We shall collide softly, tenderly, in the light of our own making, a halo brought into existence by our faith in each other.
J 1.16.08
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Give 'Em Hell, Kid
Hey everyone, I wanted to leave a post here that everyone could reference if they wanted.
First off, we haven't trashed our blogs. We just archived them. After reading what happened with someone else's blog comments, we decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
Second, thank you to those of you who've been so kind to us. You know who you are, and so do we. And we appreciate you all.
Third, a brief explanation of the ravages of high blood sugar, for those of you who aren't familiar with diabetes. Imagine, if you will, having the worst day of PMS you've ever had. F9r the guys, sorry, I don't have an equivalent comparison, just imagine you've got the worst hangover of your life. Your nerves are frazzled, you have the shortest temper known to Man, and to top it off, everything that happens around you gets to you, including what you're doing yourself. Now...multiply how you feel...by about 50. That's what going through what I call "blood sugar ricochet" feels like. Up, then down, then up again. You feel like you're in a fucking pinball machine.
Sometimes it actually makes me hurt. I can't explain that very well, just accept that it takes a heavy toll on your body, your mind, your emotions. Insulin's a hormone, so when those levels fluctuate, so do your moods. And some people wonder why I don't have kids. Could you imagine pregnant me with bad blood sugars? Mother, please.
And stress plays a big part in my blood sugar levels, which is something new to me as I've hit my 40s. It didn't really bother me when I was younger. Now, though, it comes at me with both barrels, and I invariably lose.
I personally feel that that isn't a good "excuse" for my behaviour. I'm usually quite adept at keeping my anger locked up and venting in more appropriate ways. Unfortunately, I sometimes give in to the urge to lash out at someone who pushes my buttons. Last night, I let someone push those buttons, and I wish I had walked away. Not because I want to take back what I said, but because I don't approve of the way I handled it.
I've made a promise to myself and my friends. I fully intend to stay the fuck out of any more drama, confrontations, questionable discussions, whatever. I will, however, defend my friends and myself at any cost. Please keep that in mind, because dammit, I am a motherfucking Punk. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. My convictions are how I live, not just what I preach.
But you know what?
Its still all about the love. Sometimes it just has to be tough.
J
First off, we haven't trashed our blogs. We just archived them. After reading what happened with someone else's blog comments, we decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
Second, thank you to those of you who've been so kind to us. You know who you are, and so do we. And we appreciate you all.
Third, a brief explanation of the ravages of high blood sugar, for those of you who aren't familiar with diabetes. Imagine, if you will, having the worst day of PMS you've ever had. F9r the guys, sorry, I don't have an equivalent comparison, just imagine you've got the worst hangover of your life. Your nerves are frazzled, you have the shortest temper known to Man, and to top it off, everything that happens around you gets to you, including what you're doing yourself. Now...multiply how you feel...by about 50. That's what going through what I call "blood sugar ricochet" feels like. Up, then down, then up again. You feel like you're in a fucking pinball machine.
Sometimes it actually makes me hurt. I can't explain that very well, just accept that it takes a heavy toll on your body, your mind, your emotions. Insulin's a hormone, so when those levels fluctuate, so do your moods. And some people wonder why I don't have kids. Could you imagine pregnant me with bad blood sugars? Mother, please.
And stress plays a big part in my blood sugar levels, which is something new to me as I've hit my 40s. It didn't really bother me when I was younger. Now, though, it comes at me with both barrels, and I invariably lose.
I personally feel that that isn't a good "excuse" for my behaviour. I'm usually quite adept at keeping my anger locked up and venting in more appropriate ways. Unfortunately, I sometimes give in to the urge to lash out at someone who pushes my buttons. Last night, I let someone push those buttons, and I wish I had walked away. Not because I want to take back what I said, but because I don't approve of the way I handled it.
I've made a promise to myself and my friends. I fully intend to stay the fuck out of any more drama, confrontations, questionable discussions, whatever. I will, however, defend my friends and myself at any cost. Please keep that in mind, because dammit, I am a motherfucking Punk. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. My convictions are how I live, not just what I preach.
But you know what?
Its still all about the love. Sometimes it just has to be tough.
J
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