LAAAAUUUUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAAA

I was recently whining about the fact that NIN was touring again and I couldn’t afford tickets; then I rationalized with my sour grapes mentality that since Trent got clean, I hadn’t particularly cared for the new music or his side projects with his wife…

Then I saw this new video.

Which is of course directed by David Lynch, whom I love (I realized people either love him or hate him….I am a lover….)

And with the exception of Trent looking less like this: (yum)

And a little more like this:

I’d say that NIN has found it’s good stuff again.

YES.

There is a warning re: epilepsy soooo if you have it maybe don’t watch.

Enjoy:

Shifting sands and altered plans…

Since about April, I have been really evaluating my life and my potential choices; juxtaposing them with the decisions I have made to satiate other people; from parents to romantic partners to my own children. I guess it actually probably started in December;  once the sadness of that failure became more externalized.

But April is really when I started really looking at myself and what I wanted from my life. It was the beginning of the last quarter of my “academic life,” the beginning of really putting energy into getting a “professional” job and realizing what I wanted and needed and accepting what was coming my way.

It was a very humbling and difficult time, but I found the fire again.

Throughout it all, I was able to realize what I wanted; I have looked back through 20 years worth of  journals full of my wants and dreams and thoughts and relationships…and realized that I have often adopted the dreams of my partners…I can do anything and be anyone…It’s a coping skill I suppose…it’s been my resilience, my survival tool set. My gerber…my tweeker toy…ha.

Meh, I digressed into my own head. Anyhow…

Where was I….

Oh yeah…what I want as compared to what I was willing to accept in return for mediocre bootleg versions of love….

Anyway…I am back to knowing what I want. My plans are further inline with what I have wanted since I was 16; minus the inputs of other people’s ideas of what I should be and do. I am going to start this process now, bits by bits…with an eventual time frame of 2-5 years…

I have 28,378,573,850,347,850,375,041,218 books. I am going to read them all again and sell them or give them away. Even the first editions. Even the 1852 “Life among the lowly”. Yep. As much as I love my books, they do nothing but take up room. I have read them all. I will read them again and pay them forward; perhaps someone else can find solace and distraction in them as I have for 28 years.

I am going to pay down my debt until it’s gone so that eventually, in 2-5 years, all I will have is student loans (which hopefully can be paid off and/or forgiven within ten years…).

I have a list of things that scare(d) the fuck out of me from when I was 18 that I wanted to do before I was 21. I am going to start doing them…from swimming  in the ocean to skydiving to going to South America. I am doing them.

I am learning French. Why? I don’t fucking know. But I have always wanted to, so I am going to finish learning it!

I am writing again. Not just this blog. Not just my poems and songs (which I am even playing my guitar again…crazy) but actually working on my stories. Whoa. That’s been a long time coming and I have finally gotten to the point in my life that most of the people I worried about judging me or being angry at me for writing them are no longer people I give a fuck about.

It’s my truth. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. If you think it’s about you, that’s your shit…not mine.

I am going to finish my tattoos; or at least the ones I know I want now. 😉 Bare skin is precious….I am saving room for the rest of my life….

Anyway, one kid will be on his own in 2 years. The other will be on her own in 4ish years and indicates occasionally she may want to finish that with her other parents. I have been really resistant to that but who knows. Maybe she will change her mind later, maybe not. either way, I will no longer feel the need to provide for anyone but myself, it’s been 18 years since I felt that and it will have been 20 at least by the time I am there again.

I have let go of nostalgic friends that I merely kept to remind me of who I was and kept the ones that still fulfill me…the reciprocal relationships that don’t drain me…I have made new friends and established pretty deep relationships with people who have totally surprised me.

I am finally comfortable in my own skin.

Not the skin I wanted them all to see, but my own ACTUAL skin.

The funny thing is the “me” I am finding, is the “me” people have always described; which is ironic…I always thought I had them fooled! I mean, c’mon, Billy? How could you know and I didn’t? Send me a memo next time, I mean shit.

I started out my wanderlusting adolescence with a guitar, a book of poems and a backpack of clothes that weren’t always mine.

I think I might start my neo-wanderlusting midlife that way too.

Huzzah.

xoxo

P.S. Hey Lisa, thanks for reminding me of who I am. ❤

I love surfing.

I can’t help it. I really, really, really love the bitter and the sweet of my life; the “l’amaro e il dolce”. Even when things seem so incredibly fucked up things always get better and because of the fucked up stuff, I appreciate the good times so much more.

You gotta learn to surf or you die.

And I’m digging the ride, man.

I fall in love, I fall out of love.

My car breaks, I buy a new one.

I finish a job, I start a new one.

I lose a friend, I make 3 more.

It’s all about letting go and just experiencing it.

I love the moments of grace when I remember this and am able to tell myself:

“Back off, Warchild…seriously.”

Thanks to all of you who help me experience this.

❤ xoxo

The Queen’s Gambit, a Ménage à haiku

Before my first move

I started with strategy

I thought I had this

 

How did it go down

And where did the black pawn break

Just what did I miss

 

Not sure how it went

Why I am so damn intrigued

For once, I’m in check.

Being a slave to my fear

Recently a friend and I were talking about fear and things that people regret; how someone had said that people don’t lie in their death beds and regret the things that they did, but the things that they didn’t. While I know that I am not necessarily unique in this regard, I (and those that know me for any length of time in real life) realize that more often than not, it is not what I “do not DO” per se, it is what I do not say that I regret. Doing things is easy. I am prone to bouts of monomania and once I decide to do something, I pretty much do not stop until I do it. This has both hindered and helped me in my life. It has gotten me out of shitty relationships, shitty situations, kept me from being an addict, kept me from having a criminal record, etc.

On the other side, it probably contributed to me being in those relationships/situations and it also provided me with a less than stellar job history in my early 20’s. Now that I appear to be a responsible adult on paper, it leads to some really interesting conversations about why my unique name and social security number come up in at least ten states connected to lots of different things. It’s also why I could never change my name again (not that I would want to, Jesus.) My wanderlust may be considered maladaptive, but I think it is the ultimate adaptive strategy; I either become what I need to be to fit into the situation or I leave the situation. It has definitely been a key piece to my resilience. It’s how I cope. What else can I say?

The things that I look back on my life and wish I had done differently are always things that I wish I had said; opportunities I passed up to say something and just see where the chips lie. When I was younger and didn’t really give a fuck about what people thought because my temporal lobe and prefrontal cortex had not finished developing, it was no big thing. I could say something and mean it for a half hour and then change my mind immediately.

As I got older, and more experience with how people received the things that I said, I became afraid of seeming needy or sounding weird or maybe I was afraid people would think that I wanted something from them, even if I didn’t want anything except the shared experience.

It really has become a “white men can’t jump” situation and I am Rosie Perez. Don’t get me a glass of water, motherfucker. Tell me you know how it feels to be thirsty. Or better yet, tell me you are thirsty, too.

I very rarely tell people how I really feel about people or situations these days. And I regret that. I regret not allowing myself to not have control of a situation or not being able to control what people think of me when I say something so I don’t say it.

And I know, oh I know, control is an illusion.

But I still feel like I must be my best PR agent.

If I tell you what I really think and feel, you are going to think I am a fucking loon.

Or, in the alternative, you will reciprocate. We will have a laugh. We will share a moment that no one else has experienced with either of us and feel freedom in the genuine exchange of energy and sincere emotion, regardless of the influence of chemicals either internally created or externally consumed.

But fear does not let me see that reality when I am calculating the potential outcomes.

Living in a choose your own adventure book has it’s negatives as well. The end is always evolving based on every choice, every word.

So today, I am letting go of that need for control.

I have put into motion certain things that will free me from this illusion of control over actions and feelings.

No more will I reflect upon a situation and wish I had been totally fucking honest in my words as well as my actions.

Actions are easy.

Ironically for me, words are hard.

If they like what I have to say, awesome.

If not, fuck em.

And the hits keep coming…

I have lots of really dumb, superficial bullshit woes lately. All I can do is laugh and drink, wait for Monday. I don’t really know what else to do…

My best and worst qualities are often the same things…. For example, I am entirely too hopeful and trusting. I also listen to my stupid feelings too much….put too much stock in things….

As much as I wish I was a man, I am a fucking woman. Gah.

Money is stupid; useless and useful all at the same time…

I really look forward to the day I don’t have to be accountable to anyone but myself….I won’t have to have a house unless I want one.

And it can be anywhere I want it to be.

Or not be.

And looking back at all this “bad shit” I will realize how ridiculous and transient it all was.

And I will be happy, if only for a moment.

I will stare at the sun.

And be happy; I can feel it, even when I know it will go down soon….it always comes back up.

That’s what it’s all about.

It’s called a “scratch spin”

Maybe you are 27 and I am 63

Or you’re 50 and I’m a mere 40

Either way makes us complementary angles;

 

When I am green maybe you are red

I remember learning opposites achieving

Maximum contrasts enjoy the most stability;

 

Magnetic forces eventually come back

The torque that pushes away eventually brings together

We take turns as the intervening medium;

 

You spend your days trying to press the spin wider

I spend my days trying to pull the spin tighter

For a moment we made the spin stop.

Sunlight

Ah, Summer Solstice.

The first day of summer.

The longest day of the year.

Ergo, the day with the most light.

How fitting.

It also happens to be the day that people in Latvia celebrate their national holiday…. JANI

http://www.latvia.travel/en/janis-day-celebrations

Indeed.

Get some.

http://edition.cnn.com/2013/06/13/world/summer-solstice-world-celebrations-sex/index.html?eref=edition

What a week.

This week has or will entail the following:

Graduating from grad school;

Starting a new magical gov job;

Killing my car after getting new registration, new brakes, new tires, battery, filling up with gas and putting most of it on my Les Schwab account;

Learning you really, really cannot afford to forget to replace your timing belt cause they are not chains anymore and those bitches fuck shit up when they break;

Getting new hamster car with an amazeballs warranty sold to me by someone who is from my hometown and knows everyone I know…saving my life and new job whilst putting me further into debt and thus eating any extra money from my magical gov job I hoped to pay down previous debt with;

Realizing that not only does that awesome new car have blue tooth, it has satellite radio for three months and there is a PEARL JAM RADIO STATION!!!!! WHICH IS WHAT IT WAS ON WHEN I TEST DROVE IT!!!! I DIE! I DIE! FUCK YOU, EDDIE VEDDER!!!!;

Cementing my understanding of intention and how bad shit makes way for good shit;

Finalizing my final divorce;

Celebrating solstice in the way pagans intended *wink wink*;

Running away from home for 3 days;

and realizing how awesome my friends are.

Huzzah.

It’s good to be king.

Gratitudinis

I have apparently been not counting my blessings recently and being a little bitch. So I figure I need to put them somewhere so that whatever powers that be can stop punching me in the ovaries.

Rather than feeling sorry for myself re: my effing car sitting on the side of the road with some sort of electrical malady, I must thank and appreciate that I have such amazing friends that they would leave a Father’s Day dinner with their parents who came from San Fran, just to help me out.

Rather than freaking out about the nonrefundable plans I have this weekend and my potential inability to follow through on them because of said mechanical maladies; I must thank and appreciate that those same friends have offered me their extra car to make it happen for no other reason than it is important to me: no questions asked.

Rather than become a hysterical and stereotypical female because I start work tomorrow and my car needs some acupuncture; I must thank and appreciate the fact that my awesome neighbor friend is letting me use their extra car to get to work.

Couple this with the following facts:

• I didn’t get creamed by a Peterbilt on the side of the road,
• I have a job,
• I just got my masters,
• my health rocks,
• my kids health rocks,
• my friends and family came and hung with me for a few days from 120-753 miles away,
• As if that wasn’t proof enough, they all proved they still love me despite my obvious social ineptitudes at hosting >5 people at a time,
• Ergo, they kept me liquored up and fed….while leaving the remaining spirits at my house,
• All of my bills are paid and I have a wee bit of money left over…if this car shit was going to happen, better now than 2 weeks ago,
• I no longer have the responsibility of an animal I never wanted,
• I have a nice home and I can afford it,
• I still have the ability to find humor and hope in my otherwise ovary punching life,
• I have friends that have secret skills I didn’t know about like being hobby mechanics and owning diagnostic code scanners,
• Many of my friends own more than one car and trust me enough they allow me to borrow one,
• I own a car that has never stranded me until today in over 8 years including when I almost totaled it…It still drove away and ran for over a year while I saved up my deductible,
• I missed my redneck friends and realized I have new ones ;),
• My car wasn’t injured whilst being towed,
• I don’t have any problems that aren’t fat white american first world problems,
• I have pretty fucking amazing friends and family,
• I officially feel like I have a social support system in this town.

Woo-fucking-saw.

It will be ok.

In fact, everything is already ok.

It’s pretty fucking awesome right now.

What the f**k was that?

As my best friend and I sat in my bedroom last evening while (I cracked out) trying to find something we had been talking about, I came across the pathology report from my surgery. There were a few things in it I had always wondered about. Since she is a medical genius, I decided to have her Google translate it in real life for me. So she read it out loud to me, translating it into 8th grade level layman terms for me.

As she read it, I grew nauseous. Maybe it was because of the graphic images I formed in my head to go along with the words she was saying, maybe it was something else.

I have never experienced a cold sweat until then. I literally paled, started profusely sweating and knew I was going to puke.

I didn’t and the wave passed in about 5 minutes.

I didn’t feel off before or after.

But all I can do is think about it. Bahhhh

I can’t sleep….instead of visions of sugar plums, I have visions of Babcock forceps, bluntly dissected and cauterized fascia.

Why!!! Why did I have her translate????????

Doh.

I could never be Jack Shephard. Sawyer all the way baby.

When the square peg stops trying to fit in the round hole….

Paths that were taken which seemed very strange and unproductive, rebellious and against the grain, reveal their true endgame; upon reflection.

Stuff starts to come together in the most unusual ways.

And yet, things make sense in hindsight.

Sometimes you end up somewhere you didn’t anticipate.

It’s an interesting supposition…fate

 

Fate

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

That you are fair or wise is vain,

Or strong, or rich, or generous;

You must have also the untaught strain

That sheds beauty on the rose.

There is a melody born of melody,

Which melts the world into a sea:

Toil could never compass it;

Art its height could never hit;

It came never out of wit;

But a music music-born

Well may Jove and Juno scorn.

Thy beauty, if it lack the fire

Which drives me mad with sweet desire,

What boots it? what the soldier’s mail,

Unless he conquer and prevail?

What all the goods thy pride which lift,

If thou pine for another’s gift?

Alas! that one is born in blight,

Victim of perpetual slight:

When thou lookest on his face,

Thy heart saith, “Brother, go thy ways!

None shall ask thee what thou doest,

Or care a rush for what thou knowest,

Or listen when thou repliest,

Or remember where thou liest,

Or how thy supper is sodden;”

And another is born

To make the sun forgotten.

Surely he carries a talisman

Under his tongue;

Broad are his shoulders, and strong;

And his eye is scornful,

Threatening, and young.

I hold it of little matter

Whether your jewel be of pure water,

A rose diamond or a white,

But whether it dazzle me with light.

I care not how you are dressed,

In the coarsest or in the best;

Nor whether your name is base or brave;

Nor for the fashion of your behavior;

But whether you charm me,

Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me,

And dress up Nature in your favor.

One thing is forever good;

That one thing is Success, —

Dear to the Eumenides,

And to all the heavenly brood.

Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,

Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.

Freedom

I have officially finished the severing of all ties….insurance and cell phone are in my name alone and connected to my bank account, again.

No one can demand information about things associated with my phone/phone bill, no one can guilt me about paying for those things while I am “just” finishing grad school.

Saturn retrograde be damned.

• I have a state job, ergo I can pay all my own damn bills again.
• I have an MSW, ergo I never ever, ever have to think about homework again.
• I again have complete responsibility and autonomy over my life again, ergo there is only myself to consider when feeling guilt, if I so choose to.

Fuck yes.

I am not saying it is bad for people to put themselves in situations where they trust and depend on other people, per se…..

It’s just not a place I like to live.

And it will NOT take me 5 times to figure that shit out.

To paraphrase the words of good ol’ scapegoat Dubya….”Fool me once, shame on you…fool me 4 times….well you know….I won’t get fooled again!”

Welcome back, Just Jani!

And then it hits me….

So I know, I know….finding meaning in everything is dumb and illogical. But when you have 857,348,578 things happen that align with gut feelings you have had, you start to take them into consideration. Confirmation bias aside, sometimes I meet someone or see something and it really bothers me when I can’t place it or them. Sometimes it is totally topical like not remembering who an actor in a film is, other times it’s like a Déjà vu situation, a “Mists of Avalon” when Igraine and Uther meet for the first time in this life if you will….and they realize that they have been together for many lifetimes and you as the reader have to wonder if it is true or part of Viviane’s spell….sigh.

I digress.

Anywhoo….

When I was younger my BFF Lisa and I would have conversations about something and try to remember a name or a song or an actor what have you, and it could be 3 weeks or months later and I would remember. regardless of what time of day (or morning…3 am anyone?) I would call her and be like “GARY BUSEY!” to which she would reply something to the effect of “What the fuck? oh yeah. yep. Goodnight Jani….”

In recent years I have taken to writing things down next to my bed and calling people (or Facebooking) people at more reasonable hours. Usually, anyhow. 😉

The thing that has been bothering me of late is someone’s tattoo….I KNEW I had seen it but just couldn’t place it. I had made up all kinds of scenarios, logical and illogical, romantic and dramatic….from supernatural to a stroke. (I know, I know, strokes aren’t funny.)

Then this morning, I am scrolling through my Facebook timeline looking for an invitation to a True Blood viewing party so I can change my response and BAM.

A movie meme.

There it is.

Right fucking in front of me.

It’s two character’s tattoos put together from a movie.

FINALLY!

While I am relieved to finally consciously place it, I am still a little sad it wasn’t something  meaningful. Stupid girl.

DOH

tunnel vision

As I look around my home and realize (as I take the first breath I have taken in a few months…) I notice a few things:

1. While most of my friends have complained about the state of their home because of grad school I realize that my house isn’t dirty, save the floors. My overwhelming tunnel vision has led to the demise of my green thumb, ergo most of my houseplants are dead or dying. Ouch. Oops.
2. Along the same vein, another observation is more about Vancouver, contrasted to living in say, Filer, Idaho next to fields and the canyon, dusting weekly yet needing it daily….I can go for over a year without dusting. Ha!
3. I haven’t listened to an album in months. I have the same album on my record player that I listened to on my birthday.
4. My bathroom/laundry room looks like a bachelors. DOH
5. I don’t give a F**K. YES!

Victory is mine.