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Some Pics

Me Tummy

I was super sleepy--so in being super sleepy I drunk a cup of super coffee and now my stomach hurts :(.

Post script,

I'm not a coffee drinker.

Digging Deep To Find The Me Inside

There’s a gospel song with the lyrics, “As I look back over my life—and I think things over—I can truly say—that I’ve been blessed—I gotta a testa-m-on-y!” And it’s true that I’ve been blessed over the years. Just this morning I was thinking how much I was blessed to just have to take one bus to and from work when some of my co-workers travel up to two hours to get to the same place. I was thinking the other day when I shot out in traffic to make the light how blessed I was (then) that God made it so that no other cars crashed into me. I owe so much of my existence to the mercy and grace (undeserved) to Christ, my Savior. But after all He does for me day after day I’ve become so distant from Him. The things I’m fortunate in having or experiencing no matter how great or small deserves some recognition and praise to the giver, because who am I to think that all I have is a birthright when people are dying every second in this world?

I believe that everything happens for a reason. So with that, I won’t say that the events that have transpired over the last twelve months were all bad or all a mistake. I also believe that in this life you are given the right to choose your destiny to some degree because with the certain obstacles or paths to take in life—it’s really up to us to choose which way to go. I am very scattered this morning, I know. I have so much that I want to say, but not sure if I should share it here. What I’m really saying is that over this past year I’ve made some changes—changes that might have been dramatic to some, shocking even. I lost about thirty pounds, fell in love, got an apartment, moved in with a guy, and just became so wrapped up into his world that I probably lost track of things. One of the biggest things I misplaced was my desire to write (completely). It’s like all I wanted and still want to do is be around, up under, beside and with him. On top of that and all those feelings and emotions of a relationship, I’m dealing with the actuality of being a grownup (which sucks bytheway).

Okay wait a minute, I just lied when I said writing was one of the biggest things I’ve misplaced—one of the most significant changes in my life is my fellowship with God. I haven’t been to church in months, besides a brief Thanksgiving service a couple of weeks ago. I was never a big reader of the bible (except during Sunday school or bible study) so I can’t really include that, but I guess I just sort of disappeared spiritually. Right here, I’m not going to blame anyone but myself here because I chose to do all of these things. I own up to it and will accept it. It’s just so weird lately—my life and the things I think about—how I got here compared to where I was last year. Sometimes I here myself thinking out loud that “god, I wish I was back in Mankato where everything was simplier.” (I know simplier is not a word). Some days I’m just like seriously this is happening? Seriously I’m going through this blah, blah, blah. I tell you—for all of the people who think you may love someone you only really know until that love is tried and tested and only then you will know that this will either make or break us.

All of these things relate to one another—God, writing, me, him, us, life. Writing still is affected by the transition I’m making in my life but I won’t even abandon it totally because deep down in one of the cockles of my heart it’s still there silently waiting to be my friend again.

I’m not going to proofread this because this is only the beginning of what I have to say.

Some Afternoon Mush

Being in love is like floating on some imaginary bubble that will never bust or let you rise too high too fast. I never thought I would touch this feeling--these emotions that makes my world alright. With the bumps in the road, I become stronger and more confident in this gift that I've been given.

Each time I look, touch, laugh with, eat with, cuddle with, laugh some more with, argue with, and just be with him I know that this is it. This is crazy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Nobody knows how much my heart will never be the same again. I'm open and ready to keep on falling.

It's easy to say you love someone, but to sacrifice like he has for me is a testament to why we can't be shaken no matter what.

Help! Like That Beetles Song

Hi--All,

I'm writing, writing and scratching my head trying to figure out who the hell this women is. What kind of person does she sound like? What are any thoughts--seriously, anything.

Opening Prayer
… And I say unto you, Lord, you are my light and my salvation of whom shall I fear? You are the strength of my life of whom shall I be afraid?

The deacon will always be apart of me now that he’s gone. Storm clouds may rise and strong winds may blow, but he’ll still be here beside me silently praying for my soul. The deacon was my lover and also a friend. He was the one man I thought could change my world—make me a better Jamie and saint of God. But who was I fooling; being a saint of God was the last thing on my mind when he would stretch me across his alters of praise to devour my sins. Sometimes I can be a real jerk when it comes to faith and sex and believing in God and doing the right things like not sleeping around with husbands. But I’m trying to be honest here because that’s what the saints want to hear. The first time I heard him preach I knew I had to have him. Lila McCree and his three children were the last things on my mind. I didn’t care about a wife waiting by the phone for him to call or repetitiously peeking behind lavender Priscillas hoping he’d come home. On those nights, mornings, days I wanted him wrapped comfortably inside of me so that I could be his shelter in the time of storm. Some of the saints upon hearing my story might want to pick up a stone and Mary Magdalene me, but they would be throwing out of ignorance.

Some Things to Live By

Two wise quotes from a wise women that I admire.

"It's not how much you make--it's how much you can save."

"It's not necessary to live paycheck to paycheck."

--Jackie S.

Speak to Me Jaime Thome

Somehow I've become addicted to iced coffee and talking about people. This is not good. Sometimes I feel like a real jerk, sometimes I just want to say "and who are you again?"

Time goes by so quickly. I'm scattered and trying to find my writing identity. My life is different now. I'm not the same person I used to be. I like who I am. Somedays. I searching for something that doesn't want to be found--apparently.

I'll give $20 to the first person who can tell me what it all means.

Novel Here I Come

Last week I received an email from a New York Literary Agency that's looking to expand their clientele and wanted to know if I was working on a novel. I think this is the question I need to get me writing again.

Question

My Darling Diana,

Why am I prohibited from your blog--is there something I should know?

Remember Me

It's been a while I know, but eveything's still everything. I'm still happy. I'm still alive and getting ready to venture into something new. I'm excited about the release of the Crab Orchard Review in a couple of weeks--it'll be nice to see my words in print. I'm still avoiding the novel (even though I told Slee I wouldn't). I'm getting better though. I visited a Barnes & Noble last friday looking for my darling Diana's (which they didn't have in stock--only the store in downtown Chicago) when I felt all writerly, like I should be doing it. But what can I say, my first love has shifted to something human that smiles at me when I smile at it. But I can say that my love for character and story isn't completely dead.

Walking With Love Under My Umbrella

If it's raining outside I don't care. I'm going to walk down this wet and soggy street with joy in my heart and a sap song (that I'll hum to) in my head. This is me being free and in love, in love. Funny I never thought such feelings would or could creep up on me. Funny, I was always the destroyer of love--the girl who created stories about the silliness in the thought of being connected to one soul (that could be a mate). But now I don't care about any of it because I'm walking down this street counting the raindrops as that plop, plop on my umbrella with joy in my heart and love right next to me.

He was made just for me.
He's my passion right now and really the only one I see.

LUKE: The Robin To My Batman

Luke n' Vodka
Aw Luke, you were drunk--this is true. You were saying some strange things about taking shots of vodka, disco dancing, and yellow thread. I appreciated your lack of equilibrium and shrugged it off saying, "His comments were the only ones that mattered in workshop." I miss those days of writing true (lol) and you. It's okay if your memory of me on that last night at AWP is somewhat of a dream because I was there and so were you.

On Writing
You're freakin' inspiring me to write. Since the last time we spoke all I've been thinking about lovin'. I've been lovin' so tough that writing has become somewhat of a distant cousin, but I remember those days in Mankato. I remember writing pieces that would 'ring true' to some in workshop. I remember you always telling me, send stuff out. And me shrugging before saying, yeah I guess. Reading your trials and tribs as your writing life blossoms is moving me. It is true that I'm on the verge of falling in love, not with writing, but with some flesh and bones. But how can I neglect the one thing that sets me apart from others? How can I say to writing, 'bye, bye love?" I dunno why things unfold the way they do, but you are inspiring me to go back to Toni Kay. We are suppose to exchange stories, but I have to actually work on some first. What do you think about the words I'm writing? Is there any hope for your thesis reading partner? Did ACM contact you? I was suppose to be going back and intern to keep you abreast on the happenings of your publication--I suck sometimes, and you can say this and not be afraid of any repercussions because after speaking with the editor at AWP I still haven't returned. Luke, what's wrong with me--do you know?

On Rejections
Let the rejections roll off your back, man. You've been published like eighty times so don't sweat the Nos. When you send your stories to the places where they want to call home they won't come back to you. Remember that night at Diana's and it was raining more cats than dogs and we were there to get our signatures and we started talking about rejections and Diana showed us the box of rejections (I think there was 30 rejects for one story) and we both looked at the box and felt a bit of relief because our teacher didn't let that dissuade her and we both knew she had made something out of her writing life? So now I'm saying to you--the person who will always be the Robin to my Batman--DON'T SWEAT IT! You are a better writer than that to result to the circle of people who whine about being rejected. Man up and keep writing.

Mind you, all these words are coming from a person who hasn't written in months. Like in workshop, take what helps.

Toni Kay

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!

Hi Nettie, guess who? I want to wish you a happy birthday and also let you know that I finally figured out how to reach these kids. Love you lots and may your day be filled with smiles.
I miss you terribly,


Slee.

Tipping Towards Goodness

"What do you like to eat?" she said.

"Anything that you cook," he said.

And like that they were in love. Simple.

The Other Third of Me

Today I am not Antoinette. I’m drinking coffee to stay awake. I’m picking at the skin around my finger nails. Today I’m thinking, thinking, thinking. Today I’m emotional and barely running off an hour worth of sleep. This is crazy. Today I have a lack of direction. Who is this person I’ve become? Please don’t ask me what’s wrong. Please don’t try to get anything out of me. I’m doing things I shouldn’t, but I have it under control. I’m just thinking too much. I’m just falling in a hole, but not really.

Today I’m Neenah Barcelona; no one has met her yet. Today Neenah is trying to make a conscious decision involving her heart and what’s best for her. Today Neenah is wrapped up in a situation that could potentially cause some heartache, but will be a good learning experience. Learning experiences are healthy for human living, right? Neenah seems to think so. Today Neenah wants time to stop for two seconds to catch her breath. Today Neenah will crunch on cups and cups of pellet ice so she can shiver, so she can stay awake.

Sometimes Neenah and I create situations that will cause us stress. Toni Kay doesn’t like when we get this way. If it was up to her every day would be peaches and cream. If you’re reading this and wondering what it all means, just know that Toni Kay would tell you but Neenah and I won’t. This is just the way things are today. Sometimes we get like this. Sometimes we think too much about everything and nothing gets accomplished. Sometimes we allow stupidity to take the front seat to common sense—things we know better not to do. Humph, maybe we’re just pre-PMSing.

Yesterday, a boy told me that women are sometimes too emotional. He said something else, but I wasn’t listening (too busy trying to figure him out). Tomorrow I’ll forget about what he said. Tomorrow I’ll be better. Every body has these days when things just aren’t quite right—your selves not quite welded the way they should be. Don’t worry (Marie) if you’re reading this. I’m tripping. We do that a lot. These are just words with a little feeling mixed in between.

The Minis and Me

I am in a state of horror—no, make that outrage. In the blistering cold I traveled from Starbucks to Starbucks searching for the one thing that would start my morning off right – a package of Starbucks black and white iced cookies. Out of the three franchises on North Michigan Avenue I came out each empty handed.

How is this possible? How could this be that in Chicago, on the Mag Mile I couldn’t find these cookies? It’s so not fair. It’s so not cool for Starbucks to suck so bad. I mean seriously, enough of the $5 beverages and $8 crust-less sandwiches—give me the damn cookies! My anger doesn’t only extend to the franchises downtown either. Yesterday I went searching for the cookies at a Starbucks in Lansing, IL. and came out of that store empty handed as well.

… let me tell you how the cookies and I fell in love. It was a cold Saturday night in January. I was feeling content, but had just a touch of melancholy while walking down the deserted streets of Schaumburg, IL. Like I said, my world was moving but it could have been better when all of a sudden I saw the sign, the big illuminated green lights and something inside of me fluttered. I was being lured toward green but I didn’t mind. Once inside I was greeted with the strong smell of coffee, but I wasn’t interested in that. I wanted something to lift me higher or brighten things up, so to speak. And that’s when I saw them—the cookies, both iced with white and chocolate icing in a moon-like shape. Instantly, I knew I had to have them, but refused to let the perky blonde cashier see my vulnerable side. So I perused the counter looking at other cookies for like six seconds before I picked up the package, handed it (along with money) for the check out. With the first bite into the spongy piece of heaven I was smitten. There will never be another coffee shop cookie that will make my heart sing like the mini cookies.

Damn you Starbucks, damn!

Come To Me Baby

Oh, you were the one that always made the wrong things right. When my world was topsy turvy just one minute with you would make everything more than sweet. Sitting here typing, drowsy and sinking, I come to realize I miss you. We don't spend time anymore. I barely see you, sleep. This separation is killing me ever so softly. I need to feel your touch and the way things were when my life was normal and bedtime was at 9:15 p.m. I feel as though we've disconnected like a friendship that's fading fast. It's become apparent that I can't hang out with the late crowd. I can't be without you so come back to me.

Working

In this place we all call home for eight hours strange things happen. Things that sometimes can't be explained. Things that sometimes leaves the world standing still just a little bit longer. At work people are expected to produce, negoitiate, lie, whine, eat, adjust their chairs in five minute intervals, clear their throats and try to be normal. Being normal is something Norm knows about. He's the kind of guy that will hit the back of a colleague's chair all while humming Another Bites The Dust. Norm is one of those cool dudes that hits the backs of his coworkers chairs as he passes by, and tells overweight, self-conscious women in the office, Hell, you sure look fat today. And after saying something like this to Fatty Patty, who avoids wearing stripes no matter what Elle says, normal Norm will scamper off to the water cooler to refresh himself. He won't think about office etiquette or the fact that men shouldn't ever bring up a woman's weight.

Working brings out the best in some of us, but in others it carves away our asshole centers. Being an asshole is something Ashley knows about. She's the kind of woman worker that believes in busting balls with a jackhammer motion. In the office, this women will dissemble a male co worker's ego without breaking a sweat. She loathes testosterone and thinks women wearing black DK suits are empowered individuals up for the challenge of life and moving ahead. Moving ahead is something Ashley knows about. She was the first woman in the office to crack her boss's balls with a nutcracker.