From In The Bubble

Crossing the street the other day I was lost in my own world, deep in thought as I walked the familiar path back to my house. I didn’t hear or see the car turning behind me, didn’t notice anything until one of the passengers yelled “Lay off the Krispie Kremes!” from the backseat. It caught me so off guard that I didn’t even say anything back until the window was rolled back up and they were driving away. The really strange thing about all of this is that it put me in a really good mood. Sounds ridiculous, right? Let me explain.

I’ve spent pretty much all of my life getting picked on for some reason or another. When I was younger it was my glasses, my general awkwardness. During middle school the focus was my braces, my admittedly unflattering glasses and my complete lack of care about my appearance. Since then most attacks have been geared towards my weight. It wasn’t that long ago that I cried almost everyday because of something said at school or just because of how horrible I felt about myself. It didn’t matter what my friends or family said, I believed the bullies. As awful as that time was, it made me a hell of a lot stronger. While that random guys’ comment shocked me, it didn’t hurt one bit. I smiled to myself as I walked away, laughing every-time I thought about it. It put me in a good mood because it didn’t effect me. I didn’t obsess about it all day. I didn’t run home and start crying. I didn’t stand in front of the mirror thinking about everything I hate about myself.

I’m a really fortunate person. I have amazing friends and family who don’t judge me, who don’t make me feel uncomfortable because of the way I look. I know that I have people to turn to when I can’t hold myself up, when crying on my own shoulder isn’t making me feel better.  I’m much stronger now, much more at ease with who I am. Of course there are about a thousand things I want to change, but that doesn’t make me unworthy of being treated well. Sometimes I think about that little girl, crying in the hallway outside of math everyday in sixth grade, and it breaks my heart. No one stood up for me then, and I hated myself as much as those bullies did, if not more, so I never stood up for myself.  Some comments still get through that armor, and when they do, it really stings, but I take comfort in knowing that those horrible times are hugely responsible for making me who I am today. Most importantly I’ve learned how to stand up for myself, and for that little girl.

I remember the Christmas’ of my childhood….my wish lists crafted through months of pouring over the Sears Christmas Catalog and spending 24/7 glued to the tv waiting for toy commercials.

As I’ve grown up my wish list has changed every year. I stopped writing it down ages ago, but only in the last couple of years has it become something so much more important than the superficial and material items. If I were to sit down and write out everything I want for Christmas this  year, it would look something like this…

Jen’s Wish List 2008

1. Happiness and contentment for myself, my family, and my friends.

2. Less anxiety. I would love to feel like I never have to look over my shoulder, or doubt everything I’m told anymore.

3. The kind of love I don’t have to question or fear.

4. Clarity. I want to feel 100% sure of what I want to do, where I want to be, and who I want in my life.

5. The strength to confront the people in my life who continue to hurt me, seemingly without remorse, and the kindness to forgive, even when I can’t forget.

6. The discipline to finish my writing pieces…

7. The courage to submit them for publication…

8. And the self assurance to not fall apart when I face rejection.

9. The strength to understand that I can not control others opinions of me, and that I can’t be liked by everyone.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!! I hope everyone has a great day!!

The O.C was a fictional show about over privileged, under educated teenagers living in Orange County, California. Laguna Beach was a knockoff, an alleged reality show clearly hoping to capitalize on the success of the O.C., featuring a new brand of teenager; one that shops  more, learns less and screws both dates and friends alike. Newport Harbor is continuing the “legacy” of Laguna Beach, making it a knockoff of a knockoff. No wonder it seems like none of them have any idea what’s going on.

Episodes of the show run about 20 minutes, and a good half of the first episode was devoted to mindless chatter about dinner plans every single teenager in Newport seemed to have for that night, as well as the ever important wardrobe conundrum.

One of the cast members, a particularly emaciated looking blond - aren’t they all though? - was especially excited at the prospect of eating, mentioning it at least three times during the episode: “Oh my god, I’m so excited to eat!” “I’m looking forward to dinner” “Let’s order. Food!” This leads one to wonder whether or not people in Southern California are ever fed. If they aren’t, that would explain a lot about why they never fail to tear each other apart on screen.

The only mildly entertaining part of the episode was when two brain-dead looking surfers stood on the beach, staring out into the horizon, talking about chicks. #1 misunderstood #2 and briefly thought that he had hooked up with the girl that he maybe, kinda, possibly might like. If only he could figure out which one she is.

Next time on Newport Harbor….. someone proposes the idea of name-tags, and ruins all the fun. Stay tuned.

After watching Britney Spears: For The Record it’s impossible to not be sympathetic of her situation. The documentary is shot beautifully, the scenes depicting the swarms of paparazzi she faces on a daily basis are some of the most powerful of the film. However, the parts most telling and worth watching, are the ones featuring Britney alone, answering questions. While she doesn’t often go into depth about her life over the past two years, her openness and vulnerability are touching, and you can’t help but start rooting for her.

Watching her speak, you can see the longing in her eyes for the banality of life we all take for granted. Her desire is to be able to walk down the street, enjoying the cool night air and feeling the energy of the people around her, without being mobbed by fans and photographers. When she talks about the simple things she wants but might not ever have, her pain is evident.

We connect to each other in many different ways, but the most common is through our suffering. Pain is universal, and though it is entirely unique to each person, we relate to each other on that level, through our sadness. It is exceedingly easy to connect to Britney throughout the documentary because her struggles are so visible and she makes no attempt to hide them.

In order to get something out of watching the documentary, you really have to let go of your preconceived notions about her. The tabloids have been rife with unflattering stories about her for the last two years, and it’s easy to feel like you know who she is because of that. You can’t forget that she is not just a celebrity or a singer. First and foremost she’s a human being, just like the rest of us.

 The most fascinating part of the documentary takes place in the last 30 seconds….ending with this exchange.

Britney: Now I try to avoid situations from the past that may threaten me.

Interviewer: How do you do that?

Britney: I go through life like a karate kid.

She breaks out into a genuinely happy smile and in that moment it is evident that she really is back, and there is a lot we have yet to see from her.

I can’t imagine my life without music. No more melodies gently coaxing me to sleep. No more dancing around my kitchen, iPod in hand, oblivious to the world. No more interrupting poker nights and band gigs with my Beyonce impersonation. No more driving around singing along to “Golddigger” with my best friend. Music is my punctuation, my bandaid, my vice. I would be permanently attached to my headphones if it wasn’t socially unacceptable to never look like I’m listening.

Music plays so many different roles in our lives. We use it in the moments when words escape us, we find solace in the songs we relate to, we use it to change our moods, pump us up, calm us down. The world would be a very quiet place without music. But since we have more music than I know what to do with……

 Some of my recent favorites….

Down In Mexico - The Coasters * Only The Good Die Young - Billy Joel * The Suffering - Coheed and Cambria * Save Our City - Ludo * You, Me and The Bourgeoisie - The Submarines * Strange and Beautiful - Aqualung * You Don’t Know Me At All - Ben Folds Five and Regina Spektor * Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright - Bob Dylan * Hold On, Hold On - Neko Case * Bittersweet Symphony Remix - Jay-Z * I’m Not Your Boyfriend Baby - 3OH!3

In the spirit of recent notes on Facebook, I have compiled a list of little known facts about me.

1. I’ve never seen an entire episode of The Simpsons. I’ve seen five or ten minutes of one, here and there, but never a whole episode from start to finish.

2. My favorite Christmas movie is Elf - I cry everytime I watch it.

3. I have a fascination with trains. My family lived by train tracks while my mom was pregnant with me and everytime I hear a train I feel safe and relaxed.

4. My favorite book is Lolita - It is disturbing but also very powerful and moving.

5. Until I was 14 or 15 I thought that the “Only In Theaters” thing at the end of movie previews meant that they would never come out on DVD.

6. I can do crazy tricks with my tongue like a three leaf clover and a sideways taco.

7. I read magazines from back to front.

8. I eat my food in order, and I eat all of one thing before moving on to the next.

9. I have to check behind the shower curtain everytime I go into the bathroom. But only at my house.

10. My left foot is a tiny bit bigger than my right one.

While these facts don’t exactly give you a deep look into my soul, you know more about me than you did five minutes ago.

We walk through life with all these titles, some bestowed upon as at birth (sister, brother, daughter, son), some earned throughout our life (lawyer, friend, alcoholic) and then there are the unwanted ones, the ones you wish you could shed like a skin and leave behind. Of course these are the ones that are with us forever. The best example is being a child of divorce. You don’t chose it, you aren’t there signing the papers, but you’re included in the negotiations, split the money, split the furniture, split the children.

Shuttled back and forth every two weeks, my half packed bag was always left about 5 feet from the back door. What’s the point in unpacking when in two weeks you’ll pack up the same shit, take it to the same place and come back with it less than 48 hours later. My dad’s house never felt like it was ours. It was his. All of it. I was afraid to touch things, move things. He told me recently that when he first moved in I would follow him all over the house, from room to room, I couldn’t stand being more than 10 feet from him. He uses this as an example of how close we were, how bonded. When he says it I have a hard time not correcting him. We were close, but I followed him because everytime he got up I thought he was leaving us again. Leaving me again.

Life before the divorce was ours. Our house, our backyard, our creepy basement. Even though they were probably just talking about the two of them, I felt included in the our. After they resorted to ‘my’. My house, my car, my life. After the divorce the thing that hurt the most, that felt the worst, wasn’t that my parents were apart or we weren’t a family anymore. It was that I felt like I had no home, I didn’t belong anywhere. Everything was temporary. I’ve never really considered myself a child of divorce because my parents get along better now than when they were married. I’m not a child of divorce, I’m a child of my.