What I Learned From Prime Time TV

Hi, my name is Jenna and I'm a Grey's Anatomy addict.


It started as a way to turn off my brain at the end of an exhausting day. I was always the one who rolled my eyes at my friends who were obsessed with the new millennium's answer to ER. But then one day, there they were, all the seasons of the show on my Netflix screen. OK, I thought to myself, let's see what the big deal is. I had nothing else to watch and it must have been raining that day. It pains me to even say it but I got hooked- immediately. The drama, the light-hearted comedy, the characters, the insane plots, the sex, and Patrick Dempsey really did get hot! It only took me three whole seasons to realize, however, that as much as I loved watching the disaster that is these people's lives, well frankly, this show pisses me off!


I made the mistake of comparing a wildly unrealistic television show to my own painfully realistic life. And I was left with this nagging question:


When the hell ever happened to saying what's on your mind?!


Sure, on Grey's Anatomy viewers receive an overdose of melodramatic characters expressing every fleeting emotion. How else are you going to getting those kind of ratings? But look at the real world. Do you see anyone anywhere at any time having those conversations? Would anyone ever admit that they are avoiding their best friend at work because they are secretly in love with them? Would any two people sit down over a cup of coffee and discuss at great length, in perfect articulation, the reasons why they got drunk and had sex the night before?


These people are so in touch with their own emotions and motivations that I'm starting to feel like rolling my eyes again. Yes, I know, it's scripted prime-time soap opera drama; I'm not an idiot. People get paid a disgusting amount of money to out those perfectly articulated words in these people's mouths. But when I look around my own reality I can't help but wish a little of that immaculately scripted honestly could show itself in real life.

We're living in a world that perpetuates passiveness and ambiguity. We text everything to the point many of us have lost the ability to carry on a real conversation over the phone. It seems as though everyone hashes out their problems with people over Facebook status updates and third-party gossip. The last time I had a person confront me about an issue they had with me it was via Facebook chat. Evidently that is what's being considered bold these days. All you have to do to avoid someone is not answer a text message and conjure up a lame excuse the next time you cross paths with that person. "I'm sorry I never got back to you, my phone died after I left it in my friends car and then I fell asleep."

Don't get me wrong, if the real world was just like a Prime Time drama nobody would ever get anything done because they would all be too busy having lengthy conversations about everything they ever felt. And to that end, how do these people manage to be doctors when they spend so much time whining? But I digress. I'm not asking for everyone to air out every grievance, uncertainty, and mini-drama in their lives, that would get annoying extremely fast. However, it would be nice to know that our generation has not become completely emotionally stunted to the point where we are all just high school students with day jobs, mortgages, and children of our own.

So essentially what I'm saying is we should learn to talk to each other again. We should be able to figure out what it is that's really bothering us or what we're feeling in general and form an appropriate and coherent response. Is your best friend pissing you off because she doesn't return any of your calls? Tell her! Are you avoiding someone at work because they did something last month that got you all twisted and even though it doesn't seem like that big a deal anymore you still can't break the silence? Talk to them! It may be uncomfortable and you may not have a million dollar script to tell you what to say but friggin' try anyway! Don't let our generation be the one that destroyed the brilliant art of human interaction. Don't do it. 

Yeah, It Will Get Better... But It Sucks Right Now!

It started with that first defining gulp of a cold Bud Light. The muscles in my body that had been twisted and contracted so tightly they felt as though they could snap like a rubber band began the process of de-tangling and relaxing. The welcoming smiles and hugs from people I have come to think of as family eased the process along as well. After a few more sips and the simple act of being off my feet after what seemed like an eternity working at the bar I began to feel somewhat human again.

I knew how the night would end before it began. I not only had accepted it, I knew it was necessary. A day earlier I was informed that my essay that I submitted to Glamour which would have been the "Big Break" in my writing career was rejected. I was rejected. I'm a writer, this is not an unfamiliar concept. However, this was a significant rejection. As they say, hope for the best and prepare for the worst. I prepared myself to be rejected. I'll tell you one thing though; prepared or not, rejection sucks. And all the positive words and support from friends and family, while greatly appreciated, did not make it suck any less. So I had a plan: one night to blow off steam, drink too much and just generally be pissed off, depressed, and negative. Then I would pick up the laptop and get the hell back to work!

Drinking too much is not a difficult endeavor among my circle of friends. They are all too willing to oblige when one of us is in need of some "liquid therapy". After a few beers and some very tasty shots I was forgetting all about whatever there was to be pissed about in my life. The rejection? Whatever, fuck 'em! My job? Just another day, another dollar. I had friends and I was young and spontaneous. More shots? Sure! Bring it on!

Then it snapped, broke, shattered, and collapsed. The walls tumbled down and the tears came and they came hard and determined. I at least had enough dignity left in my inebriated haze to remove myself from the building and find a quiet spot out back before I let the tears have their way. I couldn't fake the smiles and laughter anymore that night. I had to break at some point. I knew that when I walked in the door. My friends did their best to calm my sobs and lend a sympathetic ear but a drunk friend can only offer so much support. What meant the most to me is simply their presence. That was enough to show me that I have people who care. They didn't leave me alone in the dark to feel sorry for myself. They offered their shoulder for me to literally cry on, knowing full well that they couldn't fix what I had to deal with.

After I was all cried out I took a deep breath and joined my other friends inside. One more shot for the road and I was more than ready for bed. On the way home I was grateful even though I hadn't quite shaken off the self-pity of the general suckiness of the situation. I was grateful that I knew I would be OK, I have friends that care about me through the good, the bad, and the drunk, and I also knew that I have the fierce determination not to quit over one stupid essay rejection.

So my plan worked; one night to dwell on the negative and mourn the loss of a life-altering opportunity, one night to cry and feel sorry for myself, then it's right back to work! Here I am, back at my laptop, and I'm not giving up any time soon!

For Your General Amusement: The Facebook Awards!

It's that wonderful time of year again. A time where us common folk gawk at unfairly beautiful celebrities in dresses that cost more than my car while downing our thoughts of self-deprecation in a bottle of Pinot Noir and a pint of Starbucks ice cream. What, that's just me?

That's right, it's awards season! So I thought, in honor of that special time of year that makes us all depressed that we haven't lost the holiday weight yet and don't have a little gold man to show for our lifetime accomplishments, I would present my own awards. But as with any award show I'm going to make the audience wait a little longer than they're comfortable with for the grand finale. Enjoy!

Social networking is a lot like knowledge of nuclear science. Placed in the right hands it can be productive, useful, and make the world a better place. Placed in the wrong hands, however, it can reduce the entire planet to a pile of shit. Unfortunately social networking does not have an IQ requirement in order to understand it and use it for its intended purposes.

My first segment will consist of what I believe to be the ten biggest transgressions in the Facebook Universe. Someone needs to bring these missteps to light because I know I'm not the only one that's getting fed up with our feeds getting clogged with this nonsense.

DISCLAIMER: If you believe you may be guilty of one of the following Facebook crimes, close this window immediately! I do not wish to offend those who stick by their annoying behavior. If you're intrigued or morbidly curious about where I'm going with this, please read on... but do NOT say I didn't warn you.
Incidentally, I do expect a significant number of people to de-friend me after reading this- but that's a risk I'm willing to take.

10. Completely Unnecessary Wall Posts
This includes posting on someone's wall if you are currently in the same house. Really? Your methods of communication have been reduced to that? Also falling into the category of unnecessary wall posts are the "call me when you get this" messages and the general request to "text meeee!". The entirety of your social network does not need to see that. I can't believe I have to clarify that the phone works both ways, but evidently some people still don't grasp that concept.
Moving on...

9. Combined Facebook pages.
This is ridiculous... If I see a page titled KellyandTim Smith, guess what... I don't want to be friends with either of you! I'm married, happily I might add, and I am acutely aware of the fact that there are things you just keep separate: closets, toothbrushes, underwear, email addresses, in my case bank accounts... Some of these may seem obvious to you but if you've gotten to the point in your relationship where you have combined your first names to share a Facebook page I think you need to look up co-dependency in the APA Dictionary of Psychology.

8. "You're Not Human and You Have No Soul if You Don't Re-Post This in Your Status" Statuses
Don't assume that 97% of people are heartless or don't believe in God or hate kittens because they don't waste 30 precious seconds in their day to copy and paste a notice to the world stating otherwise. If you really want to preach or raise awareness about a cause you feel so strongly about, at least attempt to take the time to be original.

7. Cryptic Status Updates
Is this your passive aggressive way of calling someone out or begging for attention without actually growing a pair? For example: no one wants to see "Kimmy McEmo is tired of all the bull shit" or anything referring to karma being a bitch or "people need to get what they deserve". I don't know what your problem is, and if it's not with me I really don't care and I'd venture to guess no one else does either.

6*. Wishing Happy Birthday to EVERYONE
I know if it weren't for Facebook you would not know it's my birthday much less if I was even still alive. Your empty wishes only make me a little sad inside. If the only time of year that I hear from you is when I see the obligatory "Happy B-day" wall post, it's pretty clear Facebook tipped you off. Thanks all the same, but save your energy.


5*. Making a Facebook Page for Your Pet
I really don't care about your dog's social life. The only way that would be adorable and really impressive is if your dog made it himself. But we all know its you, so it's just lame.

4. Kissing Pictures

The only time a kissing picture as your profile picture is acceptable is if either A) it was taken on your wedding day or B) and I'm calling out the ladies here... you're kind of a slut and your profile picture is of you kissing another girl and you're basically advertising that you're open for business. Otherwise I'm not really interested in photographic evidence of how "in love" you are at the moment. Like I said before, I'm not a cynic, I'm happily married and very much in love; I just don't see the need to rub everyone else's faces in it.



I'm going to pause to mention that the Top 3 were very difficult because all three of these behaviors drive me completely bonkers and it was hard to determine which one made me want to rant until I give myself a stroke the most. So... in no particular order, these are the worst of the worst Facebook crimes...

3*. "Like" Button Abuse
There should seriously be some sort of digital obstacle course that one must pass through in order to like either someone's status or a page that shouldn't even exist in the first place. These are two things about which I'm genuinely surprised my head doesn't explode from frustration. Here's one I came across today actually:
S**** M****: Just wants to cry. They're all the same.
   G*** F*** likes this

Seriously? Do you really like the fact that your "friend" is having a bad day and wants to cry? Or is it just that you can't come up with anything remotely supportive to say so you suppose the "Like" button will provide the necessary encouragement. Bottom line... You suck as a friend and you probably suck as a person.
Here's another situation where it is completely inappropriate to go anywhere near that "Like" button: if someone is posing a question on their status. For example:
P**** R*****: Anyone know where I can get an awesome cheesesteak?
    F****** M****** likes this

If you can't answer the question just don't do anything. I'm serious, don't hit that button! It's not necessary and you're not being helpful!

Moving on...

I can't frickin' stand when I see people who like Facebook pages that shouldn't even exist. If I see that one of you "likes" any of the following I will immediately de-friend you and write you off as a vapid moron:

• When We First Met I Had No Idea How Important You'd Be to Me :)
• Pretending to Text in Awkward Situations
• Don't Worry Best Friend, I Will <3 You More Than Any Douchebag Will
• I Said You Were Ugly Because You Are, Not Because I'm Jealous of You
• I Think Forehead Kisses Are Cute :)
• Don't Text Him Back... Oh, I'm Not... You Texted Him Back Didn't You?... Yea

I could go on with this list for days; that's the really sad part. Stop. Just Stop.

2. Calling Your Significant Other Babe.
This is the one I think the most people are going to be offended by, but I honestly don't care. If this wasn't a FB epidemic it wouldn't have made the list, but the reality is I see this way too often. This isn't middle school (at least for the people on my friends list) so for those of you that are in your twenties or older let me tell you something: it is only appropriate to refer to your significant other as "babe" to his or her face. If you refer to that person as "babe" to anyone else you run the risk of making them physically ill. I can't express how little I care that anyone is "sitting home waiting for babe" or "curled up on the couch watching a movie with babe". It wouldn't bother me so much if you used the persons actual name but please keep your pet names between the two of you.
And now the winner for the #1 Facebook Crime of the Year- the screw up that makes me want to fly into a homicidal rage and scream in the face of every transgressor that they should be wiped off the face of the planet because they are a true Darwinian Nightmare... drum roll please...

1. Self-Taken Pictures Specifically to Be Posted on Facebook!!!
Let me just clear up for the people that may accuse me of being a hypocrite and say that everyone takes pictures of themselves to post on FB. Nope! You will see many pictures of me and Brandon that were taken by one of us flipping the camera around, this is not the issue. In fact, I am putting a bounty out there. Anyone who can find a picture posted on my FB page that I have taken of myself and only myself I will give you $100. (To make it fair I have not taken the time to go through and check every picture... I'm just that confident one doesn't exist)

Self-taken pictures are just proving to the world how either narcissistic you are or how insecure you are by displaying yourself for others to judge. You thrive on the "cute pic" comments and the "damn, hottie!" responses. Knock it off, it's not fooling anyone.

There are two scenarios, however, that need to cease immediately. The first are the pictures that were clearly taken of yourself in the mirror. I don't think I can come up with the words to describe how obnoxious this is and I'm a writer for god's sake! I will just plead with you all to please stop taking those epically stupid pictures. The second scenario that has to come to a screeching halt yesterday is what is now not-so-affectionately known as "duck face". You know what I'm talking about!  I don't know when girls decided that this was a flattering pose to strike when there's a camera in their face but, trust me, it's not. I truly don't understand the "duck face" phenomenon! It's not cute on anyone. It makes your face look huge, your mouth look wrinkled and gross like you're a 78-year-old pack a day smoker, and it frankly makes you look like you're just plain stupid. Here's a thought... smile! It's cute on everyone and you don't look like you need safety scissors and circle paper!





I would like to end my Facebook Awards on a positive note because, as I said before, not all people use their social networking capabilities to annoy us. I am still a proud member of Facebook because I am continually entertained by those I am proud to call my friends. I would like to acknowledge them now with a segment I call The Best Facebook Status Updates. In no particular order these are the statuses that put a smile on my face or literally made me laugh out loud (although I attempt to refrain from abbreviating it):

• Meghan Colleen Welsh: Am I really awake at 7AM watching an REO Speedwagon concert?
 
• Ryan Honeycutt: I'm drinking some beer.


• Ryan Honeycutt: Twix is a very underrated candy bar. Also, breakfast.

• Jon Koch: Apparently there's a guy out there who looks exactly like me, his name is also Jon. He dates Christines though. I wish I did that.

• Nat Doegen: I just woke up from a dream in which Harry Potter and I discovered a teleportation spell called "Ooombly Boombly." J.K. Rowling, I await your phone call.

• Josh Bee's Knees Logan: Dear craigslist posters,
Why do you constantly move to Africa so that your wife must handle your real estate ventures back in the states. Hope it works out for you and sorry that I couldn't wire money even though you've assured me that the check you sent will definitely clear. I hope you die soon. Go America

• Shawn M. Callender: Had a dream about being attacked by a rabid cat lastnight. Killed my cats just to be safe.

Kat Rafferty: Fact: tacos taste better than yoga.


And now, for the Grand Finale I would like to show you my top five nominations for Best Picture... Best Profile Picture, that is... And the nominees are...

5. Lisa Unghire


4. Joe Teague

3. Ryan Honeycutt

2. Andy Edmunds

And the clear winner is...

#1. JON KOCH

Honorable Mentions go to Brandon Clark & Jeff Dziennik for these lovely pics:

Stay tuned for my next post which will be Jon's acceptance speech.

Thank you, and goodnight.

An Open Letter to My So-Called "Friend"

Dear "Friend" (if that is, in fact, your real name),

I am writing this letter to you in an effort to open your eyes to the pain you have caused me throughout what I thought to be a close and meaningful friendship. Maybe I was the naive one, maybe you were just too self involved. Either way, the bottom line is that you used me and I let it happen.

Time and time again I was there for you. I made your pain my pain. I made your personal victories my personal victories. I supported you through every high and low point that you encountered since I've known you and the tragedy of the whole sick scenario is that I have received exactly nothing in return. When no one else understood what you were going through, I was there. When others doubted you, I was in your corner. Evidently I was the strength you needed to see there was life outside the darkness.

Well, buddy, I hate to be the one to tell you that a friendship is intended to work both ways. Here is something for you to think about: I have pain too. I have personal victories that I want to share with my friend. And when I feel weak, sometimes I need a friend to be strong for me and be a solid shoulder to lean on. You were none of those things. 

The only thing you managed to accomplish is to drag me down into your dark, bleak existence that consists of broken dreams, pity parties, and incoherent whiskey hazes. Every time I tried to reach out to you for a return on the investment I've made in our friendship, I was met with blank stares, weak attempts at canned advice (on a good day), or a short cold "I don't care". Well, guess what... Not. Good. Enough.

Sure we had fun; when it was convenient for you and you decided to pull yourself out of your own personal hell for a day or two to become what resembled a functioning human being. Too bad it never lasted long enough for you to even closely resemble a decent friend.

Well, sweetheart, I have nothing left to give. Fortunately for me, I know that above all else I am resilient. I am strong. It may take me a little while to learn how to regain my faith that there are people out there who are capable of thinking of someone other than themselves; but, baby, as I've come to discover... you sure aren't one of them.

I will never resign myself to cynicism or basically becoming a cold-hearted bitch, so I'll leave you with this: I still think there's a decent person buried under all that self-pity and misguided behavior. And in the end I truly, with all my heart, hope you find what you're looking for. I just won't let you use me to find it.

Sincerely,
Jenna
A True, Excessively Caring Friend


Writer's Note:
This letter was written with a specific person in mind, however I will not divulge his or her name to protect the privacy of the, well, not so innocent.

To my readers, I would venture to guess that many of you have been in a friendship or perhaps a romantic relationship that resembles what I have previously described. I hope for those of you that can relate to this, that you can find your freedom; because people like the one I have described will only serve to sap you of all your emotional resources and leave you with mentally and physically exhausted. It's crucial to care about the people that are important to you in your life, but if you're not getting back what you're putting in, it's time to move on.

First Published Article of the New Year

Happy 2011, everyone. Here's a little something for you to think about for those of you entering new relationships. And, as always... Enjoy!

Could You Be an Infatuation Junkie?

Dusting Off and Shaking it Up

There are many factors, situations, incidences, or even people that can cast a dense layer of fog over one's view of the world. You may think that once you have your life, your path, yourself all figured out from now on it's clear horizons into old age...

WRONG!

If anything, the opposite is true. I have discovered in recent months that as soon as I nestled myself into a comfortable modest existence with a clear view of what I wanted for my life, it was as if the forces of the universe sprung into immediate action with the sole mission of trying to derail me. Here I was, riding high on the satisfaction that washes over a person that has found their passion and direction in life, and it was as if Life (that bitch) said to me, "Oh, yeah? You sure about that?"

Derail me she did. Life was able to throw up a number of road blocks in my path to success and happiness; and I crashed into every single one of them going 120 miles an hour. 

I'm struck with an image of a snow globe. Inside that little glass ball there is another world. It may be the skyline of New York City or children ice skating on a frozen pond, but whatever the image inside the globe may be it represents a world within a world. It is protected by the forces of the outside world by a fragile shield of glass. 

I see my vision of what I want for the remainder of my life as a snow globe. It's a dream, a goal that exists in a tiny glass
sphere. I can look at it longingly but I haven't been able to reach it yet. For many months I held that dream in my hands and took it everywhere. 

But as time passed I started to get distracted. I would forget to carry that metaphorical snow globe with me some days. Eventually the dream started to collect dust as it was neglected completely. There were even situations that threatened to shatter the globe into an unfixable pile of rubble.

What started as minor distractions grew into habits that stopped just short of transforming into a lifestyle. I ignored the nagging voice that was either coming from somewhere in the depths of the logical part of my brain or perhaps from my laptop- or maybe they were ganging up on me. Either way, I blew them off. I was having fun and living it up while I was still in my twenties and had minimal responsibilities. I was denying myself one monumental truth, however: I had a responsibility to myself and Brandon.

I owed myself and I owed my husband the respect of making something of myself and not letting my goals and dreams fade into a fog of hedonistic, dead-end indulgences. I always considered myself a strong a resilient person; some days I would even say stubborn. But somehow my inner weakness took over and lead me in a dangerous direction. My life was thrown completely off balance and I soon discovered that I was no longer seeing things clearly. My snow globe was covered in dust so thick I almost couldn't see what was inside, my inspiration and clarity had become dull and faded under the weight of the fog, and my passion had all but packed up and vacated the premises.

I wish recovering from such a lapse could be as easy as brushing off the dust and picking up where I left off, however it's never that simple is it? I have to find my inspiration again, my balance in life.  For Christmas Brandon gave me a silver pendant of a compass. The message along with it stated that: No journey to anywhere worth getting to will be easy. This compass is to remind you to always focus on your destination and never give up on your dreams.

So, this is my first attempt to stretch my artistic muscles and clear the dust off my vision. I still intend on squeezing all the fun I can out of the remainder of my twenties, however my clear mission for the new year is to find balance.

Happy New Year, everyone! I hope it's the best one yet!!

I'm On a Roll Now, Folks!

The next article has been published to Suite101. I'm very interested in reader feedback- as this issue I have presented may spark some interesting conversation.  

Go have a read and let me know what you think. Brace yourself because the secret's out:

Attention is to Women What Sex is to Men

There is a Dark Side

Writing is art. You can't tell me that Kurt Vonnegut, Joseph Heller, Faulkner and Hemingway weren't true artists in every sense of the word. These guys, and many other writers, are regarded as heroes. They inspire and evoke a complete spectrum of emotions through their written words.


However, there is a sad truth that I have recently come to realize all too intimately; art is painful. Artists suffer to create, because you have to show emotion to evoke emotion. The creation is a reflection of the artists soul; put on display for the whole world to see. This is no small thing. Imagine taking all of your thoughts, feelings, emotions, secrets, successes, failures, aspirations, and experiences and laying them out for all to see... and judge.

I never considered myself an artist, like, at all. My mom and little brother absorbed all of the artistic talent that happened to be available in our particular gene pool. Creativity? Forget it; I had none. What did I do? I wrote a few stories and some general musings on life. In what crazy reality does that translate to art?

Then I wrote my essay for Glamour. I turned myself completely inside out and ripped apart the dark, deserted recesses of my memory. I took everything, and I do mean everything, that I found there and I shaped it into a creation that I believed to be the best reflection of me, my voice, and my story. After four months of creating this piece, with one simple click of the mouse, it was off. It traveled to the hands of people that are complete strangers. And these strangers will decide if my creation, the fragile product of all my soul-rummaging measures up to their standards. My humble offering will be scrutinized and judged.

Needless to say, after writing that essay I have felt completely deflated. I have been emotionally raw and exposed. It may not make sense, but that feeling of immersing all of yourself into something of your own creation to be shared with the outside world is terrifying in the most satisfying way.

Of course I care if people don't like it. No one wants to give their best efforts and turn out to be terrible. But when I know I've written something that is truly a reflection of myself and articulates my thoughts and my intentions with complete precision, I am satisfied. I am peaceful. And, incidentally, I am also very tired. 

I have visited some very dark places in my mind and my memories to create some of my work. It is hard to come back from those places sometimes and remind yourself that everything is going to be OK, and writing about painful emotions will make the piece more vulnerable and relatable. Sometimes it's hard to return to the real world. I guess that's why so many writers lose their minds (ahem... Hemingway). And I'm not really sure if Vonnegut was completely right in the head at any point in his life; but I digress. 

So I guess I was wrong about the artistic share of the genetic material. It just took me a little bit longer to discover it. I just never entertained the idea that there could be a tortured artist side of me. I never thought I was that deep. It's funny what you can find out about yourself when you develop the bravery to actually look.   

It's Official, I've Been Published!

My first online article has been published! This is a very exciting day for me.

That's your cue to go read it!

Enjoy!!!

A Sign, Perhaps?

A fellow blogger posted the other day that we are merely one month away from November. This is not a random statement of the obvious or another "OMG-I-can't-believe-it's-almost-the-holiday-season" rant. What Sarah Thomas so eloquently reminded me of was that we are currently less than 30 days away from NaNoWriMo; which most of you don't know means National Novel Writing Month. Basically this means any writer that signs up has 30 days to write 50,000 words. Let me give you all a moment to process that statement while I fall asleep on my keyboard just thinking about it...

And we're back! You read that right, folks: 50,000 words in only 30 days. Crazy, right? But is any writer totally devoid of crazy? I may not be a novel writer but I'm actually considering taking on this challenge. I can use this as an opportunity to really dig into my non fiction manuscript while commiserating with all the other over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived, quasi-homicidal writers across the country. Am I sounding more and more insane by the second? Maybe I'm still high off the Raven's big win today and chicken wings and beer, but this seems like a great idea.

Stop laughing at me for a second... I don't truly believe that I will reach the 50,000 word finish line (but hey, anything is possible, right?) and even if I only write 5,000 words it will be 5,000 more than I had on November 1st. I think this is the fire under my butt that I needed. So now I have to figure out how to work at the bar, keep writing my articles for the online magazine, participate in family functions (that whole Thanksgiving thing), eat, sleep, keep up with Dexter and Project Runway, and write 50,000 words.

I just fell asleep on my keyboard again...

I suppose I should get my naps in now before I have to give up sleep for a whole month. Does anyone know of any Starbucks that are open 24 hours?

So thank you, Sarah for giving me a sign from the Blogging Universe that I need to kick up my game if I'm gonna play in the Big Leagues.

Sweet Emotion

I've been a bad blogger. Good writer. Bad blogger. I have neglected my precious little contribution to online commentary for greener pastures- the coveted world of print publication. That's right folks, I've taken a my first significant crack at the big leagues. For the last four months I have been working on an essay that I submitted yesterday to the holy grail of freelance writing publications (at least for me, anyway); Glamour magazine. Now, don't go getting all excited for me just yet. It's an unsolicited submission so I won't know for a little while if they are, in fact, going to publish it. Won't you all join me in keeping your fingers crossed?

Today I am utterly exhausted. My heart, soul, pain, joy, blood, sweat, and tears are in those 3,000 words and writing, editing, and rewriting that piece have been just about the only things on my mind for the last four months. That, and fantasizing about what it will be like to have my words published in the uber-giant-mega-mag that is the illustrious Glamour. But today it is over; at least my part is over. I have submitted my best work to date and now I wait. Immediately after clicking "send", I felt as though someone had siphoned all the fuel from my tank- I was empty. I just about melted into a puddle of goo on my couch and stared at the TV like a zombie. After an hour or so I chided myself for not rewarding my efforts so I cruised on over to Starbucks and splurged on a double-venti Pumpkin Spice Lite Frappuccino. As yummy as it was, it failed to give me back my mojo. So, I decided to just resign myself to an evening of mindless channel surfing.

I guess when all your energy and emotions go into something that so much of your being is invested in and the stakes are so high, it's a huge let-down when you finally, well, let down. The subject matter of my essay was very personal and emotional for me so it took a little extra out of my mental reserves and left me feeling completely deflated. However, I am extremely satisfied with the work I created and I have committed myself to not take it as a personal testament to my abilities as a writer if I am rejected. (That's my story and I'm stickin' to it)

I am now on a mission to commit myself to my next big submission and do my very best to keep this one off my mind until I hear from the all mighty Powers-That-Be. I will, however, try try try not to neglect my sweet little blog anymore. I still love all of you that read it! 

Coffee Shop Writer

I've always wondered what it's like to be one of those people that parks themselves at a coffee shop table with a laptop and a latte and remains completely engrossed in their work for hours. I notice them while I'm grabbing my afternoon caffeine fix on my hurried way to some other pressing engagement. What fascinates me the most about this group of people is not the nature of their work or whether or not they're just cruising Facebook and simply attempting to look pretentious with their new Macbook; it's how the hell these folks maintain their attention span and block out the chaos around them.

So I'm attempting what I have always perceived to be impossible- I'm writing in a coffee shop. My usual writing environment consists of me, my laptop, and unconditional silence. I tried listening to music for a period of time when I first started but I soon discovered that I remain much more focused in graveyard-like quiet. Needless to say, I am now completely out of my creative element. I'm currently dedicating all of my God-given effort (what little I actually posses) to keeping my eyes cemented to the computer screen right now because all I want to do is raise my gaze to the scenery around me and people watch. It's a lot harder than it sounds. I so very badly want to listen to the conversation the two thirty-something guys are having from the leather armchairs ten feet from my table, or watch the steady stream of distinctly middle-class white folks in khaki shorts and polo shirts grab their mid afternoon iced lattes. 

I must admit, as the caffeine in my own iced coffee works its magic and as I grow more accustomed to my current surroundings the creative process is slowly returning to me. There is something oddly therapeutic about the sound of the steamer and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans permeating the buzz of miscellaneous conversations and soft acoustic folk music. It's nice to be out in the world, watching life happen as I attempt to create my own contribution to the universe. The isolation I usually encounter during my long afternoons in my home office is virtually non-existent in this particular backdrop. I'm a part of the shuffle and a silent observer all at the same time. 

It's a little strange that I'm starting to realize that writing in public ultimately produces fewer distractions than writing at home. There's no TV to click on when I get stuck on how to finish a thought, no puppy dancing around my feet in attention-starved desperation, and no wandering thoughts of accumulated laundry or unwashed dishes. Sitting in this coffee shop I am forced to focus on my task at hand. It's a lot more like giving up when you close up the computer and get back in the car than just setting the computer aside and checking to see what's new on the DVR. 

I guess the moral of this little experiment is that I will probably join the ranks of frequent coffee shop writers. I'll be that girl in the corner clicking away on the keys and sipping a latte that makes you wonder what kind of people actually sit in coffee shops with their computers.     

The Bittersweetness of Life Getting in the Way

Geez! I just realized that it's been two and a half weeks since my last post. I'm sorry to my sweet little blog and to the small handful of you who actually take the time to read it (I love you, by the way!). My life has just been getting all sorts of in the way. I feel guilty for neglecting my self-proclaimed life's passion but there's just so much stuff to do and so much recovering from stuff I do! I could go ahead and blame it on the end-of-summer need to cut loose or whatever, but that's a weak excuse at best. I could also blame my day job at the bar, which is a considerably less weak excuse but still not a good enough reason to be a lazy writer. When I do carve out an hour or two to devote to my laptop I have been spending that time working on a piece that I am submitting for publication in 2 weeks and I'm getting my first taste of deadline anxiety. So keep your fingers crossed that come the new year, I will be a real-life published writer! But for now I am choosing to use all three of the aforementioned reasons for why I have been neglecting my small circle of readers. Many apologies.

The highlight of my recent hiatus had to be a spontaneous mid-week getaway to my friend Gabby's waterfront house in Cambridge. Even though the trip was all of two nights, it was the perfect outlet for some much needed bowing off of steam. Five of us packed up two cars with beer, liquor, food, coffee (of course), and a few overnight essentials... and then more beer... and headed for the Chesapeake. What ensued over the next 36 hours was the perfect combination of intoxication and relaxation with some of my favorite people on this planet.

We played games, floated in the pool, watched my brother play 157 games of ping pong against anyone that wasn't otherwise occupied at the moment, sat around a bonfire, and kayaked into the sunset. Over the course of the two nights we managed to drink a comically large bottle of espresso vodka, an entire bottle of Kahlua (what's a vacation without white russians, anyway?), two bottles of wine, at least three pitchers of bloody marys, and, if I had to estimate, around three cases of beer. After said alcohol was consumed, the group congregated at the end of the pier and we all lay on our backs and watched the stars for what seemed like hours. With the exception of driving home before noon the next morning and having to cross the Bay Bridge with a wicked hangover, the mid-week mini-vacation was perfection. I would also like to mention that Brandon was not able to make it because of his job, and his presence would have been the only thing to make the entire experience complete.

So I suppose it's time to bid farewell to summer and start hitting the laptop hard (some days I would like to take that literally), because I would hate to succomb to Lazy-Writer-Syndrome, or LWS as I will now be calling it.

P.S. I still intend on offering my thoughts on the new season of Weeds, however, I can't decide how I feel about the first two episodes just yet. I will let everyone know once I have formed an opinion.

Missing: Genius

I'll just come right out and say it- I love Elizabeth Gilbert! It may be super trendy to love this woman right now but I don't even care, I just about worship her. For those who are unfamiliar, Liz Gilbert is the author of Eat, Pray, Love- the international super-mega best seller and Julia Roberts is playing her in the movie coming out on Friday.

The reason I'm swooning over her at the moment is that I recently watched a video of a lecture she gave at the 2009 Technology, Entertainment, & Design Conference on creative genius and its place in our society. She discussed how the Ancient Greeks and Romans believed that humans were not geniuses themselves, but they actually possessed an intangible genius- a creativity spirit, if you will. This belief not only maintained the modesty of the artist by limiting the personal credit he/she could take for their work but also alleviated the pressure put on the artist by allowing him/her to share the responsibility of creativity with their genius. Follow? Good.

My point tonight is that my genius seems to be on vacation; it's that time of year I guess. The heat must have sent the little guy packing. I can't get my mojo going these last couple of weeks. Writer's Block is a massive understatement at the moment. So while I try to coax my little genius back from whatever remote Caribbean island he's on, I thank you in advance for bearing with me. I hope you're enjoying your Mai Tai, buddy, because I'm coming to find you!

P.S. I think I'll name him Gus. Gus has some great ideas but he can be a little unreliable.

Who Wants Some Weeds?

I find myself with a lot of down time during the week. I am only a part time bartender, my husband has the most ridiculous work schedule in existence, I live in East Nowhere, and I can only spend so many hours a day having a stare-down with my computer screen before I start to go cross-eyed. So, in order to allow my brain to recharge itself after a fun filled day of writer's block and too much caffeine, I plop myself down on my couch and look for new TV shows to watch. About six weeks ago I became fully hooked on Weeds. All five seasons were streaming live on Netflix and it took me all of about a month to watch the entire series. I come to find out, I finished just in time for the new season that's premiering on August 16th on Showtime. So here's what I'm gonna do. Once a week I'm going to offer my thoughts on the new episode. I've seen other bloggers do this about shows I really don't care about so I'm just going to start my own. So there! If you don't care about Weeds either 1) you've never watched it and I suggest you do immediately, 2) you're not part of what I consider my key demographic and you are excused from this post and all further posts on this topic (and thank you for your time) or 3) your taste in TV is awful and I don't like you

For those of you in the first group I'll provide you with a quick synopsis:

Nancy Botwin is a typical suburban housewife with two teenage

sons, Silas and Shane. Her husband died suddenly of a heart attack while jogging leaving Nancy to raise the kids alone in a big upper-middle class house in the cookie cutter town of Agrestic. Agrestic is one of those towns where everyone drives a Range Rover, has a maid, attends PTA meetings, and tries not to look racist. So what does Nancy do to maintain their current lifestyle? She starts selling weed to soccer moms and investment bankers. Over the course of the five seasons Nancy's life begins to spiral further and further out of her control as she tries to keep herself and her children out of harms way while living the life of a drug dealer. What starts as a small time, dime-bag-pushing means-to-an-end soon turns into the family business. Nancy ends up secretly married to a DEA agent after he discovers her profession so he won't be able to testify against her should she get caught. However, her DEA husband ends up getting killed by rival dealers after he has their grow house raided.  After Nancy indirectly burns the entire town of Agrestic to the ground she moves her family to a quiet beach town just north of the Mexican border. While managing a maternity clothing store that is a cover for an underground drug smuggling tunnel, Nancy meets Esteban, the drug kingpin/mayor of Tijuana. She becomes involved with him and eventually becomes pregnant. Nancy moves her family into Esteban's San Diego villa and they get married, although she does not entirely trust him and his political and illegal dealings.

So there is the recap in a very small nutshell. I'm extremely excited about the new season as I hope a lot of you are. So I will leave you with the trailer for Season 6 and I look forward to offering my thoughts. And hopefully some of you will offer yours as well.

Enjoy!

On Proposition 8 & People Who Hate

While having coffee yesterday afternoon, Jon and I started discussing politics. What started as a mini-rant on Jon's part about how much it bothers him that people are so pissed about having to press 1 for English soon detoured over to the subject of gay marriage. It was a harmless yet enthusiastic conversation because we happen to agree on our positions on the matter. Coincidentally enough, I later found out that a similar enthusiastic conversation must have been taking place at that very moment in California.

Yesterday Proposition 8, the gay marriage ban, was overturned by a federal judge who considered the ban unconstitutional. In an article appearing on abc.com one supporter of Proposition 8 was quoted saying, "If we change the definition of marriage, that is going to affect our children. So basically, we're trying to defend the children that will be adopted or raised by a couple who are not actually their mom and dad.". I have one word for this guy... ridiculous.

I consider myself a Christian and a conservative and though it may be counter-intuitive for me to be fully supportive of gay marriage in the US, I am one hundred percent. This country has lost the right to cite religious doctrine as a basis for regulating something that is none of their friggin' business! If you're going to make what a woman does with her body her choice, then you sure as hell better let tax paying citizens choose who they marry. 

You may say that God designed marriage for a man and a woman; and I agree with you. However, marriage in this country has very little to do with God anymore. And as sad as that makes me to say it, it happens to be true. So are people saying that unless two people are married in a religious ceremony, they can't get married? Why not put a ban on atheist marriage? What if you're arguement is the same as the guy's from the ABC article and you believe that two people who can't produce children biologically shouldn't be allowed to get married? OK, then why not a ban on infertile marriage? Since when can a government that separated church and state long ago make these decisions?

And what infuriates me the most are the gay marriage protesters. These self-rightous, judgemental, hypocrits are destroying the reputation of the church. I was raised in a Christian household and I was never taught to hate people who believed something different than I did. I also was never taught to shove my beliefs and principles down people's throats. These zealots can't really believe they are successfully saving the souls of homosexuals, can they? If I were gay and I saw a picket line outside the courthouse with a sign that said, "Burn in Hell, Fags" I can't really say I would rethink all my life's decisions and fall to my knees in repentence on the spot... but that's just me. Whether you believe Jesus was who He said He was or not, the man did not teach us to hate or to judge- bottom line.

With that being said, if gays want to get married, let them! Think about it; here is a group of people spending millions of dollars and countless hours fighting for the right to participate in an institution that is treated so poorly by those who get to experience it. If anything, legalizing gay marriage would revitalize the concept of marriage in this country. If they are granted the right to marry you better believe they are not going to take it for granted and show up in divorce court at the first sign of trouble. 

So, I guess what I'm trying to say to all those opposed to equal civil rights for homosexuals is: back off. You're wasting your energy on something that is really none of your business. If you don't support it, fine, but it's not your job to judge it.

Summer is Kind of a Bitch

After probably six months of the best of intentions to see (500) Days of Summer and never getting around to it, Jon movie-ambushed me the other night after I got home from work. It was close to midnight and I was certain that I wouldn't be able to stay awake for more than 20 minutes, but I was wrong. I somehow managed to keep my eyes open and my attention focused for the entire 90 minutes. I believe the reason for that acute surge of energy was how emotionally invested I got in the story and especially the characters. It was not even a little bit the standard mindless "ro-co" (romantic comedy) that would have probably put me out faster than an Ambien. The characters were so charming and so realistic that, at times, I almost forgot I was watching scripted actors. (500) Days of Summer also got me to do something that no Katherine Heigl/Gerard Butler/Kate Hudson/Matthew McConaughey P.O.S. movie has ever achieved- it got me thinking...


Spoiler alert! It turns out that Zooey Deschanel's character, Summer, is a self-involved narcissistic bi-otch. She spends the better part of a year jerking this guy Tom around who is completely and unapologetically crazy about her.
Side note: who knew that kid from 3rd Rock was so charming?

Anyway, Summer leads Tom on for months and then decides one day that she just doesn't feel like being with him anymore. Then she flashes her big Disney eyes and wants to be his friend. Then after he manages to get over her enough to go back to being a functioning adult, she drags him back in to screw with him some more. And after all is said and done she ends up married to another guy, then out come the innocent eyes and poor Tom is just supposed to be happy for her.

Beware of Disney eyes!

The spooky thing is that a scenario not at all unlike this one happened to Jon some time ago. I won't share details out of respect for his privacy, but suffice it to say, this girl did a number on my baby brother. After the storm had passed and everyone involved was seeing clearly again, Jon was left with one simple truth about girls: the pretty ones think they can do whatever they want and it's OK because they're pretty. No dice, ladies. It's infuriating when a girl believes her appearance grants her empathy-exempt status. Beauty is praised to such an extent that these girls end up brainwashed into thinking their own feelings, impulses, musings, what-have-you are the only things that matter. They end up at the center of their own melodramatic universe. It's sad, it's annoying, but it's true.

You'd be mean to these girls too

So Jon adopted a technique for dealing with said selfish females: he's mean to them. He figures that no one's ever been mean to them a day in their life, being that they're so adorable, so they don't quite know how to react. He says some act like a deer in the headlights, some try in vain to throw it back at him, and some just don't get it at all. Now, I'm not advocating this strategy, but given what Jon went through I understand it and I wouldn't say I'm completely against it. I don't think anyone should be mean simply for the sake of being mean and I don't want to give the impression that my brother hates women. He just has developed a no-bullshit policy for pretty girls who think they can get away with anything. And honestly, I do believe there a more than a few chicks out there that could probably benefit from being taken down a peg or two.

But at least the movie was good.

"We live to dance another day, it's just now we have to dance for one more of us..."

It has been quite an intense week. Last Friday our close group of friends was rocked by the news that one of our own had taken his life. Jason "Old Boy" Kuzniarski had hung himself in his house. Words could not explain the shock, confusion, and utter sadness that collectively settled over the group that night. After each of us received the phone call from somewhere along the chain of friends we all gathered at our favorite bar- the bar where Old Boy had worked- to begin to try to make sense of the situation.

What occurred that evening, in the face of such unspeakable tragedy, was nothing short of inspiring. Both the bar and the sidewalk outside the bar were scattered with the people affected by Old Boy's death. It was clear that the usual atmosphere of laughter and general shenanigans had been replaced by an almost visible cloud of shock and sorrow. The amazing thing, however, was how every single person, through there own sadness, found a way to support every other person in the group. No one tried to find the magic words that would take the pain away, because we knew they didn't exist. No one tried to compete over who was the most sad over Jason's passing, because we knew that didn't matter. We were all simply there for each other in any way we could be. Some people needed to cry, so someone was there to hug them. Some people needed to tell jokes to alleviate the tension, so someone was there to laugh. Some people needed to sit silently by themselves, so we left them alone but stood close by in case they changed their mind. It was natural, it was beautiful, it was devastating.

In the days that followed each person mourned and honored Jason's memory in their own way. After his standing-room-only funeral (if that) the group that was now more family to each other than friends gathered once again at the bar where Jason worked and spent the entire day drinking beer and telling stories about the insane memories we had of Old Boy. Even his parents and sisters showed up to join in the reminiscing and by the end of the night they were our family too. It was exactly the way he would have wanted it.

It seems as though when someone dies the people left behind tell only the best qualities of the one who has passed on. It always seems a little exaggerated too. "She was always smiling." or "he was the greatest guy I've ever known". Nobody wants to admit that she was kind of a bitch sometimes or he was an angry drunk. That is not at all the case with Jason.

Jason was like that song that comes on the radio that instantly makes you perk up and sing at the top of your lungs. It was impossible to be in a bad mood when Old Boy was around. He wouldn't have it. He'd grin as wide as he could, his eyes would sparkle, and he would say just the thing you needed to hear to laugh like crazy and forget whatever the hell you were upset about. Even when he was drinking too much and doing something wildly inappropriate you couldn't help but laugh because only Old Boy could pull that off. The guy simply radiated joy and animation and he made everyone he met feel like they were the most important person in the world. And for the record: I believe I can speak for everyone when I say that we would all say exactly that about him if he was still with us and it was just another Friday night at the Wharf Rat.

One such night about three weeks ago my brother, Jon, was sitting at the Rat among the usual group of friends watching the Oriole game. Jon was giving Kevin a hard time about refusing to give him a piece of cake at a party they had been to earlier in the week. After a few minutes of light-hearted bantering between the two of them Old Boy, overhearing the conversation, disappeared for about ten minutes or so. He returned with a huge slice of cake that he placed in front of Kevin. This cake was not intended for Kevin, but for Kevin to redeem himself by giving it to Jon. No one knows where he got the cake from. He just wanted to put a smile on Jon's face. Jon told me later that it was one of the best night's of his life, sitting at a bar with all his friends, watching the Orioles, and being the only one in the bar eating a giant piece of cake.

Old Boy is not one that will soon be forgotten and I truly pray that he has found the peace that he was seeking. I like to think that he's happy now to see how close all his friends and family have become through this. However, I know we all wish it was under less tragic circumstances.
We'll miss you, buddy.

Jason "Old Boy" Kuzniarski

August 12, 1981 - July 16, 2010

"Long Live the King"