Archive for the 'confessional' Category

It’s all a matter of perception

by @ Tuesday, July 17th, 2012. Filed under confessional, observations on life

“You think you know … but you have no idea.” – MTV Diary

It’s time to play the artist card.  As an artist I am allowed to be broken. Right? Seriously,  artists are supposed to be all broken and tortured. It’s part of that whole suffering for art thing.

The fact that I have to ask permission is absurd, but sadly a necessary evil in the world of snap judgments.

A friend shared the following after I mentioned getting a B-12 shot to help with depression.  She was unaware that I was depressed and couldn’t really understand why.

“you are the most generous, hard-working, loyal, understanding people I’ve ever met, not to mention creative! and very pretty!… and f’ing smart!”

Yes, I may be all of those things, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have problems.  I’ve never been to a therapist, but years of writing and reflecting on life have revealed that I have abandonment issues.  At the end of the day it is much easier for me to be an emotionally-unavailable hermit, than invest time with people that will eventually leave.

There, I said it.  You may now re-evaluate your current picture of me in your head.

How long has this been going on?  Good question.  I’ve known that I was different since I was four.  In elementary school, I pretty much kept to myself and spent most of my time in the library in lieu of trying to fit in.  Yes, I had friends but only a  handful.  In Junior High I latched on to a group of social outcasts. We were all in band together.  In High School, there was band, drama, choir, and all honors classes that kept me with my clan of outcasts.  Only to left behind as the group became incestuous, sometime around sophomore year, and I became the odd one out.

After Junior year I moved to Texas.  I fell deeper into hermitude (Yes, hermitude. If I put it on the internet it is a real word).  It became harder to keep up with the old gang via letters and I didn’t see much of a point in making new friends when everyone was going to leave for college soon.  I spent a lot of time with my AP bio classmates.

I was still shell-shocked when I started college.  I didn’t move out of my parents’ house and I rarely spent time on campus outside of class.  I spent most of my downtime working at a daycare and babysitting.  It was easy to keep to myself.  I was a bio major taking prerequisites. Most of my classes had 200 people.  I did a complete 180 sophomore year.  I changed my major and moved into a co-op.  It was a bit of a social experiment. I took up dance. I even taught for awhile.  I joined study groups.  After two years passed, I learned that I can exist in a larger group of people and still feel utterly alone.

So how to relationships work for the emotionally unavailable?  Um, they don’t (at least not romantic relationships).  My longest relationship lasted 2.5 years.  After a year or so we were just going through the motions and no one was man enough to rip the band aid off.  After that, I rarely made it past a month or so.  A year ago, I thought I had beat the system.  I made it to 5 months before he disappeared without a trace.  But to be honest, we were only dating because we were too tired to date anyone else at the time (yes, those exact words were said).

I told you I was broken.

So why hide it? It’s my problem not yours.  If anyone asks, I don’t lie about it. I frequently tell people that I am broken. They laugh like I am joking and I may or may not choose to elaborate (now that I have written this down, I can just send them a tiny url to the post).  I just choose not to wear my depression like a sweater in the Abilify commercials (it’s more like underwear).  And sharing has never been my strong point.

It’s time to wrap up this internet confession. I leave you with one of my favorite scenes from “The Breakfast Club”. A reminder that somewhere, underneath it all, every one of us is a basket case.



Houses, homes, and such

by @ Tuesday, October 19th, 2010. Filed under confessional, identity, Music, observations on life, random musings, this old house

Key to M's House

As some of you know, I spent about six months living in a store display.  My house was on the market and it had to look “lived in” but not cluttered or have any personal items.  In other words I was living in a house, not a home.

Living in a house void of personal items was stressful.  I keep a clean house but I am a bit like Monk.  I am OCD about my things.  I don’t like sharing and I don’t like knowing that random strangers have been in the house possibly touching my things.

After six months and two realtors (I will spare you the details of that experience),   I was homeless, both literally and figuratively.  Did I sell my house? Nope.  It has however become a home once again.  It has a family now (more details I will spare you of since I am not ready to write about that experience).

So where was I living?  For the last two months I have been living in “my” room at M’s house. Drunk housing became my home and the majority of my belongings were in storage.  I wasn’t sure how that was going to play out.  But I was truly grateful that I had a place to call home.

It has been years since I had a roommate.  Sure, M and I live together for a week or so during SXSW, but that is different.  That is vacation (…and we are a lot like the Odd Couple.  She’s Oscar and I am Felix).  This was full-time job/commuting Jen. Jen who deals with stupid people all day and spends much of her weeknights hermitting in her workspace.  Now it was Jen, sans workspace, living with 3 roommates.  I did get a few sanity breaks here and there.  There was house-sitting for Yenta and some cat-sitting with streaming Netflix.

After a long search and a pause to round up enough money to pay rent and a deposit, I found a new place.  It’s not quite home yet.  I am still rounding up my belongings around town and there is some decorating to be done.

After a two month stint in cohabitation, I realize that it’s not the life for me.  I like knowing that the crumbs on the counter were left by me and I am the one who left one square of toilet paper on the roll.  I think adjoining houses is as close as we will get.

M this one is for you.

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros “Home” from Edward Sharpe on Vimeo.


Big love to the Pixies

by @ Saturday, September 25th, 2010. Filed under concerts, confessional, movies, Music, random musings, sxsw

Pixies- Austin Music Hall 9/22/10 photo by Emily Lim

M and I saw the Pixies this Wednesday.  Once again the universe proves that social media and online credit card payments make things happen.

Sometime in May, I got an email from the Pixies mailing list saying that pre-presale tickets would be available in limited amounts for mailing list subscribers.  I checked in with M and decided to go for it.  I had never seen them live, and the last time that M saw them was at ACL several years ago.  Would it be worth $50 to see them play Doolittle in its entirety?  Hell YES!  You know M and I love the Pixies and would pay to see them inches from the house (unless it involved selling a kidney).

Three days later I can still say the show was amazing (I’ve watched loudQuietloud more times than I would like to admit and I had high levels of expectations.).  Granted, there are a few things I am a little miffed about.  But, having a decent spot just left of the stage, the Pixies’ stage presence and talent outweighed the negatives.

Now for the show… They started with B-sides from Doolittle, then they played the full album.  [Little Readers, I have a confession.  There are several songs that I skip over when I play Doolittle, but hearing them live made me feel a little guilty for doing that.]  They finished out the show with the best of Surfer Rosa.   They gave it 100+% . The crowd was mesmerized and after all these years, we still know all the words to the songs.

For those of you who missed the show (or for those of you who want to relive the end of the show, I have a little clip I found on YouTube.

Now for the complaints:

1) Dear Music Hall, why can’t we bring in descent camera’s to photograph once-ish in a lifetime experiences?  M had to leave the BAC at home and shoot on my tiny camera.  Click here to see them on Flickr.

2) Dear Hipsters, why can’t you bath once and awhile.

3) Dear dudes in front of us.  M is only 3 apples high, yet you feel the need to stand in front of her, and prevent her from seeing the show.

4) Dear Chicks with giant shoulder bags, please pack a smaller bag when you are going to shows.  You are not Mary Poppins, you will not need all of that crap.

5) Dear People responsible for the redesign of the Music Hall, the sound still sucks and the overhangs prevent air circulation.


B Movie Moments

by @ Sunday, July 18th, 2010. Filed under bad habits, confessional, internet, observations on life, phobias, social network drama
Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho

Image from Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho

In the last few weeks I have made the executive decision to remove a few people from my FB news feed.  Why?  Because life was getting to be a bit like a B movie.  Sure, Web 2.0 has a lot of benefits.  You get to keep in touch with people all over the globe, but at the same time, there are just a few things you don’t need/want to know (or you will go CRAZY).

As we all know, the classic B horror flick contains several scenes where the audience tries to tell the actor/actress not to do something.  “Don’t go in the basement!” or “Don’t open that door!” or “Get the fuck out of there, something is going to kill you!”

My version of that is deleting people from my feed (I don’t “un-friend” them).  If I really want to know, I have to make the effort to go to their profile and read their wall.  But as we all know from experience, that is a bad idea.


Keeping up appearances

by @ Monday, June 28th, 2010. Filed under confessional, identity, rants

Cross-stitch samplerPeople say that home is where the heart is.  Sadly I am feeling rather vacant in that area.  Home has been my car and an assortment of places I have keys for (BTW if I haven’t said it enough, thank you for giving me keys to your houses).  I am becoming a product of this sterile environment that I return to everyday after work.

For the last 4 months I have been living in a store display.  Apparently to sell a house, the house has to be lived in, yet void of life.  I have to say that living in a store display is taking it’s toll.  Personal items are stashed away in drawers and boxes.  My sewing gear is mostly packed away because I don’t want people touching it (Note to visitors: It is not appropriate to touch a seller’s personal belongings, nor should you use their bathrooms).  Books and DVDs are in the closet to avoid clouding anyone’s judgement on the purchase of my home.   I can’t even cook here.  People looking at houses do not have the same appreciation for the smell of butter and garlic that I do.  The longer the house is on the market the less it feels like home.

Today I went to work on the verge of a meltdown (If you know me, you know I don’t have breakdowns often).  I told my boss that I was going to stay in my office and put myself in time out. Why?  I knew it was a bad day when I dropped the f-bomb within 5 minutes of entering the building.  I was pissed. I busted ass and spent a rather large sum of money to have the interior of the house painted. Why?  To encourage a hasty sale of my home.  Sadly, the open house on Sunday drew in a single buyer and they weren’t interested.

Normally, I don’t bring personal into the business place but after 4 months of living in a store display I can’t keep it together.  I thought after 2 days of virtually nothing but chick flicks I had cried enough tears to feel too exhausted to be angry.  Instead I spent the day pissed off and listening to punk rock.

After work I decided that it was in my best interest to go to one of my temporary homes (the one with the streaming videos on demand) and chill out.  I watched a film (I think it should be categorized as a film) about a dysfunctional family, “Rachel getting married.”  I was crossing my fingers that it would numb the anger.  Otherwise I was going home and breaking dishes in the back yard. It wasn’t until now that I fully understood what was meant by this quote from High Fidelity. :”… I want to feel something else than this. It either that, or I go home and stick my hand in the fire.”

Yes, it’s come to that.  I told my mom that this house thing is making me crazy.  If I hadn’t just blown a ton of money on painting the house I would have a month and a half of rent in the apartment I should have been living in by now.

So what’s next?  No fucking clue.  I cannot afford rent and a mortgage. I appreciate the offers but I do not want temporary housing.   I do not want to unpack until I am in a new place.


the person fumbling here is me

by @ Sunday, June 20th, 2010. Filed under concerts, confessional, growing up
Passion Pit at Stubbs

Passion Pit @ Stubbs

Last night Passion Pit played “Dreams” by the Cranberries. [For the most part their set sucked.  I love PP, don’t get me wrong, but the sound was horrible.  M and I walked around to a few different spots on the way back from  the port-o-lets and the sound was bad everywhere. ]  I was a big Cranberries fan in highschool/college and that song manage to restore my faith in PP and remind me that life is hard and sometimes you just have to fumble your way through it in order to get where you want to go.

Click here to listen to the cover.

Main Entry: 1fum·ble
Pronunciation: \ˈfəm-bəl\

intransitive verb 1 a : to grope for or handle something clumsily or aimlessly b :<fumbled in his pocket for a coin> c : to search by trial and error d : blunder
to make awkward attempts to do or find something 2 : to feel one’s way or move awkwardly
3 a
: to drop or juggle or fail to play cleanly a grounder b : to lose hold of a football while handling or running with it

So here’s the deal, when I turned 33 I was told by my Yenta that it would be the best year ever.  But it was unclear as to whether I had to make it my best year, or if I could sit back and just have it dished out to me.  I decided I didn’t want to wait.  I had things to accomplish. 1) Sell my fucking house before it was Africa hot out (mowing the lawn in 100 degree weather is not cool. 2) Live irresponsibly in someone else’s property (aka apartment) somewhere in the numbered streets. 3) Leave the country.

Here’s the part where I think it is appropriate to add “flying by the seat” of one’s pants to the definition of fumbling.

Here is a snapshot of what has been going on in my life:

It’s been a hectic six months.  Stay tuned for what’s to come


Be The Best Version of Yourself

by @ Monday, June 14th, 2010. Filed under confessional, growing up, identity

After lunch, no camera only iPhone I’m finally that.  It took a few years, and a few misguided trials to become this.  However, now I feel like I’m in the place or on the path to becoming the best version of myself.

I get that this picture doesn’t make a whole bunch of sense, but it does if you think about it.  I took this with my iPhone after lunch today.  It was all I had on hand, and it’s the best version I could have expected.  Something caught my eye and I snapped it.  Get it now?

I’ve been in school now for just about 2 and 1/2 years after screwing up more than I’d like when I was younger.  I have straight A’s now.  I’m on the dean’s list, and am poised to graduate magna cum laude.  Who would have thought I’d be here?

I’m writing code, which isn’t natural for me.  It’s the other side of my personality that I’ve never fully explored.  I’m better at it than I thought I’d be.  I’m actually enjoying it more than I thought I would too.  I first signed on to the CS business because I thought it would make me more well rounded.  After only a week, I can see why all my dudes do this for a living.

I’m learning to balance my time with friends and other responsibilities better.  I truly think all this has come with some distance and age from my former self.  Yes I do go out, a lot, but I also get my stuff done.  I’m a better friend than in the past when I’ve been in relationships.  I don’t ignore my friends for my SO anymore.

And that won’t happen again.  My friends are such a part of what makes me who I am.  I now realize it was silly maybe even juvenile to devote all my attention to whatever was the new thing.  I know that I like to dive in head first, but there’s a better approach that than I was capable of before.

(This is a side note, but also, listening to Mono makes my life seem super epic.  Maybe they also have something to do with how I’m feeling.)

Not only the developing of closer/better relationships, but valuing them more.  I always valued relationships in the past, but now it’s not about what I can get, but instead they are becoming more about what I can give.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an altruistic saint or anything, but I understand now, more than before how I can get something by giving.  (Sorry this is a bit sappy dudes.  I had a super nice weekend, and am feeling all warm and fuzzy.)



by @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009. Filed under boys, confessional

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

-Albert Einstein

I continue to do the same thing over and over.  It’s like I see it coming, so I batten down the hatches and prepare for the fight, thinking this one will be different. “If I can just get through this, then it’ll all be ok.” Then it ends, and we’re both heartbroken and generally broken.  That’s not to say that I don’t believe time heals all wounds, because I do.  I  think that’s maybe the reason why I continue this behavior.  It’s a different fight each time, but I’ll still push and fight to the teeth.

So, yeah, it happened.  I kinda had a feeling it would from the very beginning, it usually does.  I’m usually the one to get broken up with, I’m just too much of a fighter to not go down swinging.

The problem is, that I never remember this feeling when I’m beginning the fight. It’s like this new fight has erased all the other horrible ones from my memory.  And I think, “This time it’s different.”  But really, it never is, it might be about something different, but the outcome is the same, I have to eventually give up.  The giving up part is harder than the actual fight for me.  I’m so determined, and so stubborn, that each time it’s worse.

This begs the question, How much is too much?  How much can I put up with and know it is or will be worth it in the end.  Am I just going to continue this vicious behavior in every relationship?  Or will I eventually be so broken, like Muhammad Ali with Parkinson’s, left trembling and almost incomprehensible?

I want so desperately for my life to be a movie, the happy ending and all that but it never turns out that way.  And I know this, its something I tell myself all the time. However, telling yourself something and believing it are two different things.

It’s just not good enough anymore.  To continue fighting for things that I know won’t pan out is insanity.  From this point on, I’m deciding that I’m only going to put into a relationship exactly what I’m getting out of it.

Can someone please remind me of this next time I start getting ready for the end fight scene?  I’m not going get all cynical here and swear off men.  I’m not even going to banish particular ones to the closet of misfit toys.  I just need help with the perspective thing.


Maybe I should listen to my computer

by @ Monday, April 27th, 2009. Filed under confessional, internet

I don’t know what happened.  All of a sudden the lil computer has a case of pop up ads.  I haven’t been browsing in any unusual places(who needs porn when you have season 2 of the L word).  Maybe it is the Firefox update.  Maybe google did something.  Maybe the Facebook beacon got stronger…

…or maybe my computer is punishing me for stalking again.   Two completely new subjects.  The first was completely intentional.  I was researching for a friend who is “waiting for the other shoe to drop”. I planned to research and make my wager on the flaw.  The second was based on someone I found on “zappos for men “.  I was on today to see if the summer stuff was out. There appear to be a few new editions.  Slightly sportier/geekier than before.

You would think that after an afternoon of trading clothes with the ladies, talking about how some dude did someone wrong whilst hanging out in our underware, I wouldn’t have dared to head back online.  Mmmm, nope.  I did it anyways.  I had to do something while the virus scanner was running.

After some virus scanning and downloading all the possible apps for Firefox,  I think that I have the pop up issue under control.


Get thee gone!

by @ Tuesday, April 21st, 2009. Filed under bad habits, confessional

I was downtown a week or so ago and drove past the employer of someone I went out with (someone who dumped me via email with the classic “not ready to be in a relationship” statement and then got married 2 months later).  I realized that my wish should be true by now.  They are long gone.  Sadly, I didn’t get to banish them.  I suppose you could say that they banished themselves. They got married and moved away.

Last night I happened to be stalking surfing around on the interwebs and discovered another person I had dated (and sent this email) had treated me to a little self-banishment.  They referred to it as grad school.

It’s not like I want to hire a hit man and have these people taken out (I don’t want to go to jail).  I just want to avoid running into them at all costs.  If I wanted discomfort I would wear thongs.  Ideally, I would be able to just banish them to some deserted island.  Something like the Island of Misfit Toys.

If you could banish someone, who would it be and why?

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