So, yesterday I made a big decision. Well, it was big for me anyway. Not only did I charge almost $80 to my debit card, with the promise of have $40 taken out for the next two months - I chose to take something that I didn't like in my life and do something about it. I was watching TV, feeling utterly hopeless and uncomfortable in my body and I came across the P90X infomercial. It made sense - it had nothing to do with toxic pills and supplements for the body, or crazy promises of losing 50 lbs in 2.5 days. It's all about you, your body, your dieting, your level of fitness.
The package should be here by the beginning of next week - and I am wicked excited. Maybe I'll keep an online photo journal of my progress through the 90 days.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
A Hero Came Home
My little cousin Axel, who is actually not so little anymore, just came back form basic training from the Marines yesterday. It was so good to see him. Having always been a super in shape person, nothing about his outer appearance seemed to have altered, although he told me that he did gain 12lbs. I couldn't find it. But I was walking upstairs and Axel was in his room by himself just laying on his bed that he hadn't seen in three months.
I walked in, closed the door that somehwat muffled the commotion of the party happening downstairs and said, "I'm really happy you're back." He laughed and said, "Me too." I looked around his room, once being his older sister's transformed into a room for a teenage boy packed with snowboards, clothes, workout gear, and random collectibles. While those things are still there, they are barely present amidst the USMC gear that was spewed across this floor.
"Is this everything you have?"
"That's everything."
I asked if he was happy with his decision and he immediately responded yes. Then the question that I have been meaning to ask him came up. He was still in his uniform, not the dress one (which by the way costs like $500.00, but the fatigues tucked into the boots with the regular green t-shirt adorned with his dog tags. Now he was putting on his USMC sweatshirt - and without hesitation, he began tucking it in. "Are you scared?"
I think only a moment went by before he answered. And it wasn't even a contemplative moment. He knew all along the answer he wasnted to give, the only answer he felt he needed to give becasue he didn't feel any other way - i think the moment's pause came from wanting to say it the right way. In the end his answer was simply, "No."
Of course I probed, "Not at all?" His answer remained the same. I knew then that not all Marines had the attutude of "Hell no! I'm a Marine, of course I'm not scared!!" I wouldn't even think twice about a Marine that said he was scared - hell, I would be! But his simple no reassured me that he was confident in his decision to join the USMC and throughout his years there he would be happy with that decision. The culmination of all his years as a son of a former Marine has not influenced him in a way that forced his decision - he made his own decision and he was proud of it, and I am proud of him, so damn proud!
He told me something later on in the conversation that almost made me cry with relief - because of his schooling, he wouldn't automatically me thrown into Infantry when he deploys, but there's always that chance, which I no doubt know that he'll be ready for. And it is a definite that he will deploy - not for about 6 or 7 months - but he will be going overseas.
Seeing him in his uniform with all his USMC stuff on the floor almost made me cry. Not of sadness at all though - he has gotten so grown up, so sure of himself and I was so proud of him. I don't know how else to describe the feeling I get when I say to people that my cousin is a Marine. I have nothing but praise for him, for all he has accomplished, for all he will accomplish. Axel is a hero. He hasn't been in war or fought in any type of battle, but his decision to be a Marine has made him a hero.
When I saw him off, along with his sisters, mom and dad, from Hartford and saw his recruiter take him away to the airport I remember looking out the window as he got in the passenger seat of his recruiter's car and I did cry. I cried cause I didn't want to see him fight for a country that (in my opinion) has no place overseas. I cried cause to me, he was still little Axel who played his video games and football and hung pictures of half naked girls on his walls.
But little Axel has grown up and has made a heroic and valient decision to become a United States Marine. I can't explain how proud I am for him. He has showed such courage in his decision and I support him 100%. He's not so little anymore and I have to say I look up to my [little] cousin.
I love you Axel, I love you so much <3 And I am so proud of you!
I walked in, closed the door that somehwat muffled the commotion of the party happening downstairs and said, "I'm really happy you're back." He laughed and said, "Me too." I looked around his room, once being his older sister's transformed into a room for a teenage boy packed with snowboards, clothes, workout gear, and random collectibles. While those things are still there, they are barely present amidst the USMC gear that was spewed across this floor.
"Is this everything you have?"
"That's everything."
I asked if he was happy with his decision and he immediately responded yes. Then the question that I have been meaning to ask him came up. He was still in his uniform, not the dress one (which by the way costs like $500.00, but the fatigues tucked into the boots with the regular green t-shirt adorned with his dog tags. Now he was putting on his USMC sweatshirt - and without hesitation, he began tucking it in. "Are you scared?"
I think only a moment went by before he answered. And it wasn't even a contemplative moment. He knew all along the answer he wasnted to give, the only answer he felt he needed to give becasue he didn't feel any other way - i think the moment's pause came from wanting to say it the right way. In the end his answer was simply, "No."
Of course I probed, "Not at all?" His answer remained the same. I knew then that not all Marines had the attutude of "Hell no! I'm a Marine, of course I'm not scared!!" I wouldn't even think twice about a Marine that said he was scared - hell, I would be! But his simple no reassured me that he was confident in his decision to join the USMC and throughout his years there he would be happy with that decision. The culmination of all his years as a son of a former Marine has not influenced him in a way that forced his decision - he made his own decision and he was proud of it, and I am proud of him, so damn proud!
He told me something later on in the conversation that almost made me cry with relief - because of his schooling, he wouldn't automatically me thrown into Infantry when he deploys, but there's always that chance, which I no doubt know that he'll be ready for. And it is a definite that he will deploy - not for about 6 or 7 months - but he will be going overseas.
Seeing him in his uniform with all his USMC stuff on the floor almost made me cry. Not of sadness at all though - he has gotten so grown up, so sure of himself and I was so proud of him. I don't know how else to describe the feeling I get when I say to people that my cousin is a Marine. I have nothing but praise for him, for all he has accomplished, for all he will accomplish. Axel is a hero. He hasn't been in war or fought in any type of battle, but his decision to be a Marine has made him a hero.
When I saw him off, along with his sisters, mom and dad, from Hartford and saw his recruiter take him away to the airport I remember looking out the window as he got in the passenger seat of his recruiter's car and I did cry. I cried cause I didn't want to see him fight for a country that (in my opinion) has no place overseas. I cried cause to me, he was still little Axel who played his video games and football and hung pictures of half naked girls on his walls.
But little Axel has grown up and has made a heroic and valient decision to become a United States Marine. I can't explain how proud I am for him. He has showed such courage in his decision and I support him 100%. He's not so little anymore and I have to say I look up to my [little] cousin.
I love you Axel, I love you so much <3 And I am so proud of you!
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
'Tis the Season
I hate the holidays. Always have.
I don't think anything will ever change that. I was listening to the radio and the host was talking about a recent finding that stated that January 17th was the saddest day of the year. Why? Because all the bills from the past Christmas season are flowing in, all the presents are down, the Christmas tree and its decorations are taken down and stored away and the gingerbread smell has long lingered away.
Sad? I guess, but maybe not for the reasons listed above. It's sad because the holidays have been so commercialized and marketed that people have really lost sight of the small things. Cliche statement, I know, but I'm serious.
New Year's Eve is usually spent at my aunt's house. Everyone goes over and there's food and Spanish music (too much if you ask me) and it's usually a pretty good recipe for fun. The spoiler of this oh so perfect delight - time. Time destroys everything. Well, destroy is a pretty harsh word, maybe changes, but that doesn't begin to describe it either. Anyway, the point of this is I was talking to my 13 year old cousin Chase who, to my surprise said the following words with such sincerity it almost killed me. "Things aren't the same, are they Jessee?" I then asked what he meant, and he explained, "It's not the same. Titi isn't having fun, no one is down stairs dancing and it's different."
Chase was right. Its weird that a 13 year old picked up on this. Maybe I'm just underestimating the intuitiveness of a 13 year old. It is different. My other cousin Axel is in Parris Island getting ready for his life as U.S Marine. My thoughts on that are for a completely different post all together. We all have gotten older and nothing is like is was when we were little. The holidays turned into the "who-got-me-what" game and hished discussion about how much something cost. It's disgusting, really.
I don't have kids. I don't plan on having any. I'm the oldest out of all the kids on either side of my family, so I've dealt with kids and I know I'll have alot of nieces and nephews one day who, I hope will grow up seeing that the holidays are about family, about discovering the beauty in the world around us as it cycles through another year; because if they don't they won't know how wonderful the holidays could be.
I started this saying I've always hated the holidays. That's not true - I miss the real holidays, when my mom's side and my dad's side of the family actually got along, when I recieved more hugs from my Grandpa rather than an envelope with $100 bill that my parents bought a card to put it in and signed his name, when Axel was home sneaking drinks with us older kids upstairs while the parents all danced and shot darts downstairs, when it wasn't about how much something cost but thoughtfulness behind it.
I'm 23 and I don't think I've had a real holiday in fifteen years. That's a decade and a half...I wonder how long it's been for Chase...
Til next time
I don't think anything will ever change that. I was listening to the radio and the host was talking about a recent finding that stated that January 17th was the saddest day of the year. Why? Because all the bills from the past Christmas season are flowing in, all the presents are down, the Christmas tree and its decorations are taken down and stored away and the gingerbread smell has long lingered away.
Sad? I guess, but maybe not for the reasons listed above. It's sad because the holidays have been so commercialized and marketed that people have really lost sight of the small things. Cliche statement, I know, but I'm serious.
New Year's Eve is usually spent at my aunt's house. Everyone goes over and there's food and Spanish music (too much if you ask me) and it's usually a pretty good recipe for fun. The spoiler of this oh so perfect delight - time. Time destroys everything. Well, destroy is a pretty harsh word, maybe changes, but that doesn't begin to describe it either. Anyway, the point of this is I was talking to my 13 year old cousin Chase who, to my surprise said the following words with such sincerity it almost killed me. "Things aren't the same, are they Jessee?" I then asked what he meant, and he explained, "It's not the same. Titi isn't having fun, no one is down stairs dancing and it's different."
Chase was right. Its weird that a 13 year old picked up on this. Maybe I'm just underestimating the intuitiveness of a 13 year old. It is different. My other cousin Axel is in Parris Island getting ready for his life as U.S Marine. My thoughts on that are for a completely different post all together. We all have gotten older and nothing is like is was when we were little. The holidays turned into the "who-got-me-what" game and hished discussion about how much something cost. It's disgusting, really.
I don't have kids. I don't plan on having any. I'm the oldest out of all the kids on either side of my family, so I've dealt with kids and I know I'll have alot of nieces and nephews one day who, I hope will grow up seeing that the holidays are about family, about discovering the beauty in the world around us as it cycles through another year; because if they don't they won't know how wonderful the holidays could be.
I started this saying I've always hated the holidays. That's not true - I miss the real holidays, when my mom's side and my dad's side of the family actually got along, when I recieved more hugs from my Grandpa rather than an envelope with $100 bill that my parents bought a card to put it in and signed his name, when Axel was home sneaking drinks with us older kids upstairs while the parents all danced and shot darts downstairs, when it wasn't about how much something cost but thoughtfulness behind it.
I'm 23 and I don't think I've had a real holiday in fifteen years. That's a decade and a half...I wonder how long it's been for Chase...
Til next time
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Day in The Life
Another day, another dollar. Another arguement, really.
My cousin said I'm going "back to that place". I fear that she's right. I can't do that though. I can't. I was so far gone, so depressed, so tired of everything. I guess I could actually write that last sentence in present tense. I would rather not. But then I'd be lying to myself. And if you can't be honest with yourself, who the hell can you be honest with?
I haven't been honest with myself at all. I've been lying and cheating myself. I've been insulting my own intelligence. I've been willing myself to feel one way, knowing for damn sure that I feel the complete opposite. I had this friend awhile back who gave me a book called the Shack or something like that - it said something about a Shack and it was about God or Jesus, whomever. Now, she knew I wasn't very religous...not even close so she did warn me it was about God/Jesus, but it wasn't a "shove-religion-down-your-throat" type of book.
She said "Jess, I love you. And I see you in this place and it's not good. It's not you. I want you to read this, and please keep an open mind. Maybe it will give you some sense of solidity, a sense of warmth and belonging."
Believe or not I tried. I tried so freaking hard to read that book and to let something in, anything in. After days of rereading and going back and looking for something that should have clicked, that should have given me chills upon reading it, searching for something to make me believe in anything but the depressed and inevitable end that every life must come to...I found nothing. Absolutely nothing.
How numb am I? How heartless and cold am I to not find a single thing worth believing? I know that I have been through alot in my life and that I'm still going through it, but people have been throguh worse, a whole helluva lot worse and they still believe. They still have this unwavering, unfaltering faith that molds them together, that doesn't let them fall apart at the seams, that keeps them strong against the most terrible of circumstances.
Why can't I have that? Why can't I feel what they feel?
I feel like I'm losing. Losing at what - I don't know, but I'm losing and I don't know how to get back on my feet and continue to try to keep going.
My cousin said I'm going "back to that place". I fear that she's right. I can't do that though. I can't. I was so far gone, so depressed, so tired of everything. I guess I could actually write that last sentence in present tense. I would rather not. But then I'd be lying to myself. And if you can't be honest with yourself, who the hell can you be honest with?
I haven't been honest with myself at all. I've been lying and cheating myself. I've been insulting my own intelligence. I've been willing myself to feel one way, knowing for damn sure that I feel the complete opposite. I had this friend awhile back who gave me a book called the Shack or something like that - it said something about a Shack and it was about God or Jesus, whomever. Now, she knew I wasn't very religous...not even close so she did warn me it was about God/Jesus, but it wasn't a "shove-religion-down-your-throat" type of book.
She said "Jess, I love you. And I see you in this place and it's not good. It's not you. I want you to read this, and please keep an open mind. Maybe it will give you some sense of solidity, a sense of warmth and belonging."
Believe or not I tried. I tried so freaking hard to read that book and to let something in, anything in. After days of rereading and going back and looking for something that should have clicked, that should have given me chills upon reading it, searching for something to make me believe in anything but the depressed and inevitable end that every life must come to...I found nothing. Absolutely nothing.
How numb am I? How heartless and cold am I to not find a single thing worth believing? I know that I have been through alot in my life and that I'm still going through it, but people have been throguh worse, a whole helluva lot worse and they still believe. They still have this unwavering, unfaltering faith that molds them together, that doesn't let them fall apart at the seams, that keeps them strong against the most terrible of circumstances.
Why can't I have that? Why can't I feel what they feel?
I feel like I'm losing. Losing at what - I don't know, but I'm losing and I don't know how to get back on my feet and continue to try to keep going.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Snowed In.
So I'm snowed in. Today has cost me in more ways than one. Which sucks....really sucks. 
I needed to just sleep last night. Christmas was exhausting this year...absolutely exhausting. I felt like I had been running around for weeks on end without sleep. It doesn't help that I got into it last night with J. Ugh.
I needed to just sleep last night. Christmas was exhausting this year...absolutely exhausting. I felt like I had been running around for weeks on end without sleep. It doesn't help that I got into it last night with J. Ugh.
I got a message this morning saying that my company was closed today. No work = no money. Then I go outside to see the blizzard that had hit us and to my dismay I see a ticket on my car. $100 fine for parking on the street during a snow storm. Livid doesn't even begin to describe how I felt about that. Last year I was the only dumbass to move my car and no one else got a ticket. Living in a place where there is only off street parking sucks for this exact reason - there is no where to put your car when it snows. Apparently, I could have parked it at the park...how the hell was I supposed to know that?
Yes, so today has cost me in more than one way. *sigh* Such is life.
I feel like I have alot to say; there's so much on my mind. I tossed and turned last night, and wasn't able to sleep. I feel strung out - unable to think about one specific thing for too long because my mind keeps skipping around. From work, to when I'm going back to school, to family, to getting out of Connecticut, back to school. It's insane.
I remember being in my Creative Nonfiction Writing class back in CCSU. I was writing a story about meeting my biological mother for the first time. I remember a line:
"I was no longer a cold December river..."
I think it was wishful thinking. I thought by seeing her I wouldn't feel so empty anymore, that I wouldn't be such a cold person and that I could move on and not be so filled with anger all the time. A year after meeting her I think I'm colder than I've ever been. I know for a fact that I'm angrier than I've ever been and the amount of emptiness I feel can't be measured.
Nothing has been resolved. I thought it would have been by now. And nothing has changed. If anything, I can't even stomach the thought of her. This topic is putting me in a bad place...bleh.
Til next time.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
A New Beginning - Somewhat...
The cyber world has never been my stranger...in fact we used to be very good friends. Blogging ran a close second. I began writing my first blog when I was about 15. Eight years later I wish I still used that blog - not to still be writing, but moreso that I could look over all the meaningless things I wrote about that, at the time, were of the upmost importance.
I have a feeling that this blog will go on for some time. I'm 23 and have alot of things to say. Actually.... let me rephrase that because had I intended to physically say these things, there wouldn't be a need to write them, would there? Facebook had a blog option...but then too many people were reading my blog, commenting on things that were either very inappropriate to comment on or just not that important to comment on - almost like they felt that saying something was better than saying nothing. Well, it's not - and that's not meanm it's just fact. Taking in what someone says and letting it linger there is most of the time better than fishing for something.
I don't ever know what to write about when I begin a blog...usually I'll ramble for a few paragraphs (see above) and then something will hit me and I'll go on about it for another few paragraphs..and then I will abruptly stop. Not having anything of worth to say I'll stop. The English major in me knows that an abrupt whiplash stop isn't correct, but all the grammar and structure you once learn goes completely out the window when blogging...sometimes...i think?
I know I'll end up on here later...probably adding another post or two. Are blogs supposed to have purposes? Ha. It's like a philosphical question of the cyber age...once upon a time it was a question of whether or not our lives have purpose...weird.
Here comes that abrupt stop.
Til next time.
I have a feeling that this blog will go on for some time. I'm 23 and have alot of things to say. Actually.... let me rephrase that because had I intended to physically say these things, there wouldn't be a need to write them, would there? Facebook had a blog option...but then too many people were reading my blog, commenting on things that were either very inappropriate to comment on or just not that important to comment on - almost like they felt that saying something was better than saying nothing. Well, it's not - and that's not meanm it's just fact. Taking in what someone says and letting it linger there is most of the time better than fishing for something.
I don't ever know what to write about when I begin a blog...usually I'll ramble for a few paragraphs (see above) and then something will hit me and I'll go on about it for another few paragraphs..and then I will abruptly stop. Not having anything of worth to say I'll stop. The English major in me knows that an abrupt whiplash stop isn't correct, but all the grammar and structure you once learn goes completely out the window when blogging...sometimes...i think?
I know I'll end up on here later...probably adding another post or two. Are blogs supposed to have purposes? Ha. It's like a philosphical question of the cyber age...once upon a time it was a question of whether or not our lives have purpose...weird.
Here comes that abrupt stop.
Til next time.
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