"If I knew all the words, I would write myself out of here." MRAZ

Thursday, February 26, 2009

: (

I am tired of being sad.
And it is sad that I am tired all the time.

What a depressingly exhaustive cycle.

Saturday, February 21, 2009


So, I was challenged the other day to think about life before Google.

And, I can honestly say, I am glad that I am not living that life.

In two minutes, I was able to research a problem and find a way to fix it. That is amazing! What would I have done BG (before Google)?

My 3 and 1/2 year old son is in this "fun" stage: very independent and very curious. He wants to test his hypotheses without being supervised by an adult. Can I begin to tell you how much "fun" that is when I stumble upon one of his experiments at work; being that I am usually the adult that he is trying to hide from since I am almost always around.

Recent Hypothesis: I can make a Quarter disappear by sliding it through this slim spot: the spot where Mommy usually slides CDs in and out when we are driving in the car.

Experiment Steps:
1. When the car is parked catapult self into Mommy's seat (the driver's seat).
2. Play with every button to distract Mommy of true purpose.
3. Grab Quarter from change area when she is not looking.
4. Inconspicuously, slide Quarter into slot.
5. Check for complete disappearance.
6. Try to avoid being seen.
7. Pull together an innocent look if caught.

Well, I did catch him; and he succeeded with his innocent look- as he gave the Quarter one last shove into place! I don't often reach that octave when I shout, "No!" But there are certain special circumstances that deserve a little extra umph!

My Post-Experimentation Steps:
1. Told Mr. Cause and Effect what rules apply in regards to Quarters in the CD player.
(Who knew such a rule would ever need to be spelled out.)
2. Pressed Eject.
"Yes, thank you, CD Player. I did want my Jason Mraz CD to come out eventually, but I was hoping the Quarter would come along for the ride."
3. Join pro-con discussion with car mechanic extraordinaire: my Dad.
4. Slept on it.
5. Took knives to CD opening. Heard Quarter jiggle a bit, but no luck in acquisition.
6. Typed cry for help on Facebook.
7. Asked Google for help: It seems that toddlers all around the world are testing the same hypothesis. It is amazing. Like they have some innate need to test such things. There were plenty of options online, but mostly: tear apart your dash, get to the CD player, and pull out the Quarter.
**Why didn't I think of that?
8. Researched Saturn Ion dashboards.
(Thank you again, Google.)
9. Back outside- armed with screwdrivers of every sort and my meanest, no nonsense car mechanic face. Oh yea, baby! I know what I am doing.

10. Do I know what the hell I'm doing?!

11. Success. Dash is off. CD face is off. Quarter is in sight.
12. Moment of delight as I collect change.
13. It is amazing how much easier everything goes back ON!
14. Moment of truth: Will my CD player still work?
15. "Ah," I sigh as Jason's dulcet tones waft into my ears.


Who is the woman?!

This empowered moment brought to you by Google: type something in and get answers.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009



I was the mistress of my own fate.
I was a journey-man: atlas in hand (or passenger seat).
I was the seeker of jewels.

I was famished for Bill's BBQ, really the corn sticks.
I sought information.
I learned new roads.

I sent love to family.
I patted a dog.
I felt silly, happily.

I got stuck in traffic and yelled, "Ah ha! I will have toast before you!"
I took pictures of clouds while driving.
I contemplated a hotel stay.

I listened to Jason.
I listened to my Purchased Play List.
I sang at the top of my lungs.

I danced within the constraints of my seat belt.
I saw a forest fire; I smelled a forest fire.
I smelled chicken poo. (YUCK)

I walked on the beach.
I saw the sun set.
I heard the waves crash.

I was there- in that moment- forever.
I was there for 10 minutes- max.
My feet were cold.

10 Minutes on the beach fueled me for 3 more hours on the road.

Friday, February 13, 2009

quiet visions

My post-midnight porch is one of my favorite places to be.
Today, I've given; I've shared.
I talked; I sang: and I've listened and responded.
There's been music and noise: the incessant list of things to do.

But now, I am on the porch.
Listening to the night air.
Watching the dark sky, and the twinkling stars.

Tonight, things are more quiet than usual- the frogs are still croaking, but they seem subdued. Their week-long carnival seems at an end. I can still hear the highway that is close to my neighborhood; but the sounds don't travel so well tonight. Like, the night knows I need a little more peace than usual.

And my mind wanders to other quiet moments, and savors the visions:

I am 16.
It is near 6am.
The air early-morning-clear.
The color is yellow-pink, gray.
We've come together to share in this tryst; an unlikely band of early-day starters, who sacrifice sleep to enjoy this moment. If we talk, it is hushed. It is an amazing moment. I follow the concrete path down to the shore. It is unlike any shore I've ever walked on: not so much sand, more pebbles and tiny shells. The most perfect spiral shells I've ever seen littered all around. The water is slate gray; placid. It is a mirror of the open sky above me: beautiful early morning clouds that will be blown away as the air of day shifts and changes. I step into the surf. It is so cold. The exact cold of crisp; the cold of a new day. I shiver and react, but continue forward. I embrace the cold. I know the cold will become warm, and I will forget it. I will be lost in the beauty that I am apart of; and I will find strength in that beauty to face the day. I am swimming in the Sea of Galilee. I reside at Kibbutz Ma'agan. I realize where I am and I am amazed. That feeling, that beauty stays with me all day.


The meal has been served and devoured.
The campfire lit: songs sung and devotions proclaimed.
Ideas, love, forgiveness, amazement: shared by all.
It is time for sleep now.
I don't choose the safety of the tent. Instead, I lay my blanket out under the pitch-black sky. Only, it isn't pitch-black when you really look. There are an innumerable amount of stars shining, twinkling. And when you really look, there are so many it hurts to look. It hurts to know that I will never see this many ever again. It hurts to know they will be there, but I won't see them. I hear the sounds of sleep: only deep breaths in and out. Even the camels are quiet for this moment. I am not one who is able to sleep when this much beauty exists; when I've missed this much beauty my entire life until now. The sky is literally a dark blanket that has been scattered with diamonds. So many, there are just so could I have missed them? I want to stay here, at this Bedouin tent for the rest of my life. I want this night, July 3rd 1997, to last forever. So that I can just lay here. Lay here in the middle of the dessert and look up. Up into the fathomless sky, and realize that God has loved me, will love me more times than there are stars.


It is night.
I am in a gazebo; in a graveyard.
I've just offered myself to him; and he has rejected me.
I don't know what to say. I am so hurt- there is nothing to say. He feels the weight of his words, and can't say anything else to relieve the pressure. My mind is filled with questions; but I don't speak them, I can't speak them. There is nothing else to do: I get up and walk away.


I sit at the table eating bread with honey; and tea with cream.
It is so early, it's dark. I move with sleepy still hanging to every inch of my body. I want to go back to bed. But I know where this day will lead and I am, despite my heavy lids, excited about the destination. Today, I will walk where those druids were. Today, I will see massive stone pillars arranged just so. Today, I will touch rock that has been patiently waiting on the Salisbury Plain for me to come. It will be amazing. I will love it. I meditate on the moment and smile.


The festivities are done.
The rehearsal was a success.
The late-night chats with the girls are over.
I am in my room sharing the bed with one of my best friends; my maid of honor. Tomorrow I marry. Okay, later this morning, I marry. Everything is still. In this moment, I feel the gravity, the weight of responsibility. I stand on the precipice of a life-changing moment. There are only two options: turn and walk away OR jump. The first idea isn't an option. I run through the day ahead: prepare, walk carefully, talk slowly, love fiercely, kiss thoroughly, and smile. And know that I have committed my life to someone; committed to live my life with someone. I will begin a new family unit. This decision will affect eternity. It is awe-ful.


I lay in bed.
There are soft lights and the whirs of machines. I am suppose to be sleeping, but I am at another major moment in life. There is another life within me awaiting his arrival moment. My husband sleeps in a cot beside me. I listen to the sound of nothing; and know that very soon, it will be filled with the sound, the voice of my son. His arrival is too soon: this timing wasn't my plan. His arrival is too late: and that is why I am here, in the hospital, on medication to help things along. I worry, and try to trust God. I evaluate myself, wondering whether I am ready for such an awesome task: raising a new generation of me and him put together. I wonder if that moment of passion can ever make amends for the outcome. I face my failures and ask for pre-forgiveness for a future that is sure to be scarred with mistakes. The anticipation is sickening and intoxicating. Will I be enough? Will I trust God enough?


I stand on the porch.
It is 12:30am.
My men- the big one and the little one- are asleep.
And I have this blessed moment to myself.
No giving, no sharing, no talking, no music.
Just the night sounds to soothe my weariness.
I look up and see the stars, my familiar bright lights.
I see the beauty and store it away for my reserves for battle: the next day.
I smell the cold air and wonder if it will revive me to peaceful sleep...
I move forward despite rejection and accept awe-ful, awe-inspiring moments.
I ask forgiveness as I know that I am not enough; and ask God that he will make me enough; and ask forgiveness because I am too tired to mean it: in this quiet moment.

Monday, February 9, 2009

a hat girl

I am a hat girl.
Always have been, and I am embracing that I always will be.

I remember my grandfather's driving cap: tan corduroy.
I loved that hat. It is one of my favorites.
I was a little girl: I remember it well sitting on his head- out and about town. It sat next to the station wagon keys. It smelled spicy- like him.
I ended up owning that hat.
I wore it in high school. They thought I was above embarrassment; that I had it together, that I knew who I was...
Sadly, I don't have it anymore. They were wrong.

Pulling together this crazy identity has taken time, is taking time. And the hats have come and gone. I wasn't sure. And then, I was. There were periods of hat-wearing-prowess. But then, wearing a hat takes a certain amount of confidence: people notice hat wearers. And sometimes, there have been many times, I didn't want to be noticed.

(You know what I mean.
You see those people, with those hats and wonder what they're all about.
There have been many times in the last 10 years, I didn't want people to see me. I didn't want to be seen. I avoided seeing...)

And now, I just don't care.
This person is not yet formed; but has the confidence to say so.
Questions form with confidence; not embrassement- there is yet a lot to learn.
So, I wear the hats. And if people look, that's okay.

Hopefully, they will see someone:
who loves to live
who loves to explore
who appreciates change and adaptation
who realizes that we've all got mistakes to make
who doesn't mind being wrong or changing her mind
among other things...

So, bring on the funky hats....oh, yea! I will wear them.
And giggle at the hat-hair underneath...


I am outside on the porch.
It is my moment alone.
I want to enjoy the outside, post-midnight noise.
The natural noise.

Instead, I hear a train rolling through downtown.
I hear it perfectly.
The air is clear and the sound travels effortlessly.
And it makes me think...

Where is it going?
Who is on it?
What is its cargo?
Where would I end up if I were on it?

I also hear the frogs in their endless song:
they remind me of the solidarity of my reality.

I hear the crackle of my kretek, and remember that there are some new trains that I have jumped on...

What other trains await?

Please, leave me alone.
This is my alone moment: no noise, no music, no talking. Just time for me to think and dream.
And breathe.

Friday, February 6, 2009

COMPARE: Rand Busfield and Grey's Anatomy

I know this is going to sound crazy. But this kind of comparison is so typical to the way my mind works; haven't you come to expect that from me? So, we'll move on. Those who know me well, expect the expected. Those who don't know me well: take note. I am crazy. Now you know.

Many of you ask me about Rand:
How he is doing?
How is his development coming along?
What am I feeding him and where can you get some?

And now, I have an amazing link for you to hold on to when you are thinking about Rand, and how you may want to interact with him.
(thank you, abc!)

Last night on Grey's Anatomy, Dr. Dixon was once again featured. She is the visiting cardiac surgeon who lives with Asperger's Syndrome. On last night's episode, she suffered from a fierce moment of sensory stimuli overload. And because of it, she handled an important interaction with a patient and her parents poorly before fleeing the room. Dr. Miranda Bailey finds Dr. Dixon shortly afterwards: she is in a quiet room trying to wrap the doctor's coat she is wearing even more tightly around herself. She explains that deep, firm compressions offer assistance in helping her deal with the sensory overload she is battling. And so, in what is meant to be a comedic moment in the show (highlighting Dr. Dixon's oddness), Dr. Bailey and Dr. Christina Yang hug Dr. Dixon until she is calm; until her heart rhythm and breathing have become normalized.

I can laugh.
But my laughter is tempered with reality.
Rand lives with Sensory Processing Disorder. Thankfully, his sensitivity to social and physical situations isn't as severe as Dr. Dixon's; but nevertheless, there are issues to keep an eye on when dealing with him. Overload to sensory stimuli is one of them. Most of the time, it is just too much of something: new environment, new people, new procedure, loud/unexpected/unusual nosies, too much touching in places he doesn't like (his head for example). Too much of any of these things without a proper release as he goes along, can cause a frenzied fit. And the best path back to normalcy is deep, firm compressions: a hug, a squeeze, a game of "smush you," even sometimes, a good pillow fight. After such "therapy" sessions, Rand seems to take a deep breath, as if to say,"Ah, thank you. That is so much better."

And yes, there is a hugging machine for people. And yes, it was developed from the "hugging" machine that keeps cattle calm and in place for slaughter. The designer's name is Temple Grandin. She is an amazing woman living with autism and rocking the world doing what she loves to do. I am reading her book, Thinking in Pictures: And Other Reports from My Life with Autism.

Thursday, February 5, 2009


I've used the term Jenny-law recently.

And maybe it is time to define the term: for you sake and mine!
Especially since I plan on writing more about them.


1. Ideas, words, phrases, sentiments that have been adopted into Jenny's frame of reference for life

2. a constitution emphasizing truths that may not necessarily be accepted by all people; it is specialized to reflect experiences and thoughts based on Jenny's life

**I may add to this list as I continue to develop the idea.
I promise to link back, if I make adjustments.


with Anu Garg



1. Cheerfully optimistic or confident.
2. Having a healthy reddish color.
3. Blood-red.

I am the kind of nerd that subscribes to A.Word.A.Day. It comes to my email account every day with new words for me to learn. Sanguine is one of those words that came along that I was pretty sure of the definition; but I checked it out just to get a refresher.

And, I realized that God whispered this word into my soul before my creation was complete.

NO matter what comes my way; no matter the dark clouds; no matter the bad days or down days (and yes, I do have them; sometimes, even a few at a time)- it seems that I am always able to pick up and keep going....with a smile and a tune. And this ability, the ability to charge on happily, is my default. There is no other way. And that amazes me.

On a lighter note, it is amazing to think that I will never need to wear blush in my life. There is enough blooming-red on these cheeks for everyone to enjoy. And that is just another ones of those things that I must accept as a default.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

that kind of friend

Everyone should have that kind of friend:

the one who looks at you with complete love; the one who accepts you completely as you are; the one who shrugs as if to say, "Why are you surprised? I've known this about you since we met;"

and then, slams you with some sort of stinky-poo-pile of truth.

It is amazing to be that loved.
It is amazing to be that accepted for who you are.
And for that person, to be able to see the truth; and to share the is an amazing thing.

It sucks to hear the truth....

sometimes. And sometimes, it opens your mind to paths that you've ignored.

And at the end, whether it is good news or bad news, it is nice to hear such things from that friend; because either way, they are still going to be there. No matter what you do with the truth.


"You are so quiet. Why aren't you saying anything," she asked me.

I know that she was reaching out and being loving; but there were a few good reasons I wasn't saying much.

First: I don't feel like what I have to say these days is 1) very interesting 2) certainly not very edifying. It is the basic principle: if you don't have anything very nice to say- KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.

Second: (which is actually still tied to #1)
I am so tired of using my friends as shrinks. They don't get paid to hear me whine and moan; to listen as I delve into true feelings and motivations. That is all I am doing these days....why would anyone want to listen to that if you aren't getting paid for it?

Third: I am quiet because I am absorbing.
I want to hold onto the moment. Look at each person around me. I see the past: our beautiful, crazy memories. I see them as they are right now, and savor their presence. I see them in the future without me; and I am sad. I know that I am the one that will be missing so much.

That is why I am quiet. How can I say this without becoming the patient again; and again asking them to become my counselors?

"I am just absorbing," I say.
But it doesn't matter. They ask, and I answer.
And it becomes a long, sad discussion.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

my family unit

My family unit is growing.
And that is a wonderful and amazing thing.

I used to think that family meant only those people who were connected to me by blood or marriage. I was sad, because that meant there weren't a lot of people in my family. Well, at least, there were a lot of people that I didn't know: I've got a lot of family in South America (and other places) that I have never met.

Yes, people connected to me by blood or marriage, people that are automatically defined as family, are important to me.

But I would like to propose another definition for family: a definition that I have come to adopt as a Jenny-law. People who are proven by time and love without any previous connection (i.e. those connections afore mentioned)- these people are just as much my family. These are the people I choose to assimilate into my family unit.

And I am thankful to say, my family unit is growing. I feel loved and supported by these people, these friends: my family.

I am blessed and highly favored-
(it blows my mind and I am humbled.)

Sunday, February 1, 2009

feed me, I am hungry

I love to learn.

And I feel, in order to keep up with the errands of life, I've put learning new things on the back-burner for way too long.

I feel like I am someone who has been in a dark room, locked away.
I have ignored things, let them slip by me. I've been busy and unaware.

And now...
I am starving.

I can't seem to learn enough these days.
It is amazing how much time and energy goes into learning; and how rewarding it is.

And there is so much. I have to be my own sifter: deciding what's worth it and what can wait. I am in a Chinese Buffet and so hungry. And there are so many choices to munch on. There is only so much that my stomach can hold. And I know that I can come back anytime. But there are so many delicacies....what to chose first?

So, I am learning.
And I love it.


It is amazing how good eradication feels...

when I am in charge of it.

It is costly: in time and in energy. But it comes with an amazing sense of accomplishment. In this moment, I can understand how one can become intoxicated. How someone can let it go to their heads. The power, the control is....well, it gives one a grasp of self-possession.