a stretching of sorts

It's hard to appreciate someone from a distance.
Yet over and over again I find myself distancing myself
from people in order to feel comfortable around them.

And then I feel so alone and lonely.
And super gun-shy about making contact

When it comes down to it, I can feel uncomfortable
around most people. It's hard to just be myself
and be around others.

I think that I want to just do two things:
1) spend more time with folks, really get all up in
the face of this issue and
2) keep spending more time with just myself to try and accept
who I am with an open heart.

I already feel like you can never give a person too many
chances to be a part of your life. It is so easy to think that
we know how someone is, but really I think we can only truly know
ourselves.
And I'm starting to realize not only that I don't want to feel in competition
with others but I don't have to be in competition with others. All I
gain from this mind-trip is fuel for my vanity and when it's gone...the
sense of freedom is really amazing.

Beyond that I have to admit that my faults aren't going anywhere.
I mean, when I think about something in a different way, it's helpful
but I still have every crazy emotion that everyone else has. I can see
myself everywhere it seems. What's weird is that without other people
to interact with it can actually start to feel like I'm "improving,"
that I'm getting "better."
Maybe that's why I've been avoiding relationships.
Hmmmmm.

It's also kind of sad to reach out and to not be received.
But maybe the receiving comes out of the range of my expectations.

I will wait and see.
Stretch and reach out.

goddammitt I didn't and I did and I didn't so THERE.

Remember when I mentioned that I may have picked a career?
I didn't. I haven't.
There is so much to say about this and so little.


Let's start with what I'm afraid of:
failure!
yep, failure...in it's myriad forms...
wasting money!
totally, that sucks for me.
lack of recognition!
I want to be easily understood....as....superior.
boredom!
tedium-ho-hum.
stress!
which to me is akin to shooting up with tumors, okay?
communicable disease!
not my fave.
not doing the right thing!
yes, yes, that ambiguous gem of a cultural meme. (thanks Spike, really.)

What this basically amounts to is this:

I want to be true to myself.
I want a job that allows me to express myself,
within a supportive environment.
I want to be challenged, and engaged.
I don't want to lose touch with all the other
things in my life that are important.
And I am a person so I also have weird-o mundane
ego pursuits like wanting security, accolades, and validation
from everyone. Even though I can accept that these are illusions,
when I feel afraid my craving is for them.

I have this habit of dangling carrots to motivate myself.

And it's troublesome.

For short-term goals it can arguably be handy.
For instance, getting through the first part of a workout
by dangling the idea that once one gets started it'll be almost over.
But I would venture to say that even this benign thinking might pose
the threat of ill-gotten gains by wondering, what do we miss about the doing if we only concentrate on the end?

For long-term goals it's just awful.
It's all those cliches.
It IS putting the cart before the horse.
It IS making it about the destination not the journey.
It IS making mountains out of molehills.

Here's something I'm going to try and ponder:

CARROTS ARE FOR EATING NOT FOR DANGLING

I have to admit that I just might go back to school and I just might not.
And that either might be just fine.

And that I just might get into a different kind of work or I might not.
And that school might play a role or it might not.

Above all, I want to remain open and loving.
And it's sooooo haaaaard to love this process.
But it's getting easier.
And it's soooooo haaaaard to love the judging and impatient
voices.
But that's getting easier too.

Pt. 1 of I think 3 or 4
Stay tuned for Pt. 2!

a love letter to the bug that died in my hair

Dearest bug,

When you landed in my hair I knew instantly.
I tried to free you from the dense mesh by gently
shaking my head but failed.
Noticing the small protrusion against my scalp, I decided to let the
wind help remove you and I kept on biking.

We were on the east bank, and I turned all of my focus to
the task of getting to the st. paul campus.
We weaved and maneuvered our way onto the greenway that
connects the two cities.
The wind was steady and we continued into it for at
least a mile. I was pretty sure you were gone.

Triumphantly arriving at my destination, I proceeded into work.
And then I felt it.
The sweet buzz that was the tremor of your wings.
Over and over until I had to admit that you were still
there and that you were stuck.

I tried to get someone to help me free you so I wouldn't accidentally
kill you. We went outside. They were put off by touching my hair....
The trembling stopped so I guessed that you'd flown off.
Just to be sure, I entered the bathroom to see if I could find your exact location with the help of the mirror. No luck.
I started work and tried to forget you.
And then, another buzz!
But then, no more came.

An hour later your whisper of a body fell into my hand.
I brought you outside to the grass and dirt.

And that's how I experienced it, I wonder what it was like for you?

Sincerely,
with love,
Jenny

sure-er footing

The past week was a doozer.
Cathartic as hell.

1. This American Life the Movie...have you seen it? Fucking hell! Go and see it. Last chance = May 7th. And then come over and let's talk about it. We'll drink lots of fluids and smile and smile and smile.


Podcast = click this

2. New shoes. I will not bore you with the details just the overview. (And yes, I DO mean that I will just bore you with the overview.)
It goes a little somthin' like this:

Hard to decide.
Many to adore.
Chose the best "mom" shoe.

Am still winning.
(They are that good...)

3. 7 deadly sins. Also known as, emotions. I have them. They do not mean what I thought they meant. I thought they meant I wasn't me, that I was a failure, that I was deplorable, that I was wrong and stupid and mundane. Now I realize, that they are just an indicator of my sense memory, my vulnerability and my vitality.
They are okay. Soon? We will all be pals.

4. Alanon. Not bad.

5. Church. 'Eh.

6. Neko Case. Weeeeell....aside from spending the whole time so jealous I couldn't breathe, it was great. Got a nice teeshirt too. Resolved some um, issues.

7. Mood chart. My therapist encouraged me to chart my moods. It's been rad. For years I've been all about personality tests, astrology, anything that would tell me who I was. I'd read and analyze and compare and tests the tests, and always always, come to this conclusion: this shit is whack! But I never realized that to learn more about myself I could just, observe myself. Had some success. LOVE my chart.

8. My Stroke of Insight. It's a book. Definitely not for everyone but I liked it. As someone who's a little emotionally repressed it was enlightening. As someone who is interested in brains it was intriguing. I have a copy if you want it.

(Ahhhh...technically, I finished this two weeks ago, technnically...Ahhhh)

9. I picked a career. Probably. At least, I've made some key decisions. I do not want a job that involves: healthcare, cells, or designing products. For those of you paying even moderate attention to oh, let's say 40% of what comes out of my mouth on any given day, you will know this is significant. I like Chemistry. So, I've determined to ride that train as long and as far as I'm able, with the hopes of teaching high school since I like children. We'll see...won't we?

Although I still want to become a better writer and still think being an ambassador of science to the layman seems noble and worthy, focusing in on this as a career isn't appealing. It seems like something to do after one amasses some amount of mastery not before. In truth, I could just research and summarize and expound. It would probably be perfectly appropriate and I could find an audience but I deeply desire some sweaty exploration into a topic. My expectation isn't to be the best or the first, just to be on the crew. I want to find out as much as I can about chemistry because I like to think about it and unfortunately I haven't studied it enough yet to be able to do so on my own. Definitely, this feels a bit like a dalliance but I hope to balance it out by refining my crush into a passion that I can share with some hormonal, bored, coerced, spoiled, teenagers.

For some reason, all of this sounds like fun.

saying it

Lately, chemistry has been on my mind.
If I could, I would do a 6 hr. monologue randomly detailing everything
I've learned so far.
The feel of the words as they leave my mouth is remarkable.
My understanding is refreshed and I'm surprised at how much I still
remember.
It's like remembering that you speak Latin or something.
Yet, I still grapple with a lot.
But my favorite part is slowly articulating the big concepts,
trying to make it come together...imagine watching the eating
of a whole steamed artichoke in slow motion backwards so petal by
petal the vegetable regains it's stature...so what's left can be
held, can be moved, can be placed.

I probably couldn't stay on topic for 6 full hours.

I'd probably have to tell you something Theta had said.

We'll see how long this urge lasts. If it makes it's way into
Amy and Nate's wedding. If after Sean brings me our Gen Chem book
I ever read it like I want to and if I do read it if after that I'm still interested.

Well, I can tell you how this feels.....

A few times since I've "taken a break" from school,
I've attempted to write.
Writing is this weird thing for me. At one one point in my life,
for quite awhile I felt really really compelled to write. I loved
the freedom and drama and I had several super positive experiences
with teachers because of my desire to write well.
But these attempts have been difficult.
I sit down and try to say something about anything and I get lost.
"My voice," I have to concede....I kind of hate it.
I come up with all these drippy, ordinary, obtuse ways of communicating
and I have to stop writing because I'm grimacing too fiercely to see the
screen anymore.
A couple times, I've written things haphazardly, I'll get certain nuggets of
encouragement and I react incredulously.
To inspire and subconsciously guide me, I've been reading more.
These forays are nourishing but everything I read seems so amazing so effort-
less...so similar I just think, "well, that's what good is and I can't be that."
I feel defeated because of my lack of discernment.
Not only can I not tell when I've written something well, I can't articulate what I
like when I like it.
It feels out of control.
And I never, EVER, EVVVVER wanted this blog to be a place for me to blab about
some trivial blahblahblah from my day-to-day ho-hummy hum-ness but here I go.
I am doing it.
It feels less than ideal.

from my myspace spacemy my

Thursday, December 20, 2007


Mama Antidote

Theta will be two in a few weeks.
Her sometimes passionate displays of emotion can be challenging but mostly they are soooo understandable.
I feel like I'm constantly being reminded of how we are human as I relate to her in these situations, asking things like, "are you angry? are you disappointed? are you frustrated?" And then fumbling a little with the response to the inevitable "yes!" and continued wailing.
I want her to stop. To be okay and not upset but also to stop asking me for help when I can't. God that feels awful. Sometimes, there's just nothing that I can do.
And so it begins.

My litany of appeasement. "What do you want, what about something else, what about something else later, what about something great later, what about something else and something great later?" Word after word scrambles out of my mouth and I watch in horror as they desperately try to arrange themselves in some kind of, ANY kind of, configuration that will appear pleasing to the baby. Much as you would expect high-strung circus performers who over-slept their alarms to rush into the empty spotlight with strained smiles, I try to fulfill my own expectations of parental control with palpable discomfort.
Of course she just keeps sobbing knowing that somehow these words represent the ever-increasing space between herself and what she wants. They become this symbolic and direct evidence that she is not getting what she wants, constantly, with each second.

This obviously could work better and so I've tried empathy.
I tell her it sucks to be sad. That everyone gets disappointed, and angry. That frustration is a "rough one." Every once in awhile I say, "I think you'll be fine," an assertion that troubles me when I try to go to sleep at night. A simple vote of confidence yes, but when uttered repeatedly throughout a day it seems prudent to wonder, "who am I really trying to convince that all's fine?" Yet, to these statements she responds better. Perhaps because the tone is less excited, because the focus is shifted from what she wants to how she feels. It's better....but I still feel like my words aren't effective enough.
I feel like she's asking me how to make a cake and I'm telling her about the nature of sugar. I feel like it gets me so far but not far enough, since I'm essentially saying, "you're sad? Awhhhh....daaaaang, dude. Shitty."

It's lacking because I don't just want to model empathy in these frequent moments, I want to model healthy detachment, respect, humility, and sincerity. To let her know that it's okay, that she's okay, that her feelings are okay too. That it's just fine.

So I compromise and do a little of both.
I run the gambit from commiseration to helpful suggestions and back again, but the other day I stumbled upon a new way to respond.
I'd heard parents say things like this in the past but I didn't realize why until that moment when I tried it.
All I said was this:

"I see that you look like you feel really frustrated."

To this she said....nothing. Since it wasn't a question, she didn't say yes or no. Since it clearly implied nothing in terms of action on my part there, the anticipation of amelioration was gone. And oddly, she calmed down.

I like it because it lacks judgment or authority. And it's so honest. I'm not telling her how to feel, I'm not assuming that the way I see her is the way she is. I recognize where I'm at physically but not emotionally. No longer am I connecting her self-expression to the way it makes me feel. Although this is valid and a part of the situation too...it's a little much for an initial response and it somehow partially obscures her momentarily in my mind, making it hard to separate out what's going on.
I also like that it isn't dramatic and yet it speaks directly to the state of the issue.
Statements like, "I think you'll be okay," or a "I'm sorry I can't do anything to help," were falling short because they didn't enable me to connect with her and that's what I really wanted.
To let her know that these big emotions are just par for the course, and that they are hers.
To let her know that I'm paying attention and that I care are implicit in other ways and can be said later. It's weird, but I feel like the best thing I can do when she's totally flipping her shit is to say:

"I see you, you are there, right?"

Although I will still say any number of things on any given day, I like this most because I find a sacred peace in validating her and I together in the present. To do this first is a way of re-orientating ourselves, a way of pausing to admit that in the least we are together for as big and as small as that is.