Not Quite A Stallion

short

2009-06-07T20:23:00.000-07:00

I think about love a lot.

I think about undeclared love mostly.

As someone who doesn't declare her love due to fear of a sharp shattering pain that will never end, I often wonder what is in store for me.

Picture Story #2

2009-03-17T15:01:00.000-07:00

It's an odd feeling when you know something is slipping through your fingers right in front of you. When something is being offered to you--something you've wanted for so long--and you're too scared to take the leap.

It sucks. It does, that's true. By nature, it sucks. But...at the same time it's kind of comforting. Comforting because nothing has changed. Life still goes on, as it has, and will continue to. No, I didn't get to experience something that could have been amazing...but by not taking the opportunity, nothing really bad happened other than my feelings getting hurt.

Does this mean I'm self-loathing? Maybe.

By severe contrast, my sisters love life has been rockin'. She's a hot mama about the town, I'll tell ya. It's not surprising, though. If a girl can have this much fun at an airport, just imagine the fun she can have other places.

Which brings us to picture story #2:

Picture Story #1

2009-03-13T15:06:00.000-07:00

I have an odd thing with vanity which sometimes makes advancing myself in my career difficult. I see friends who post their acting accomplishments, pictures and videos of shows they've been involved with to networking sites, blogs, and YouTube. I don't judge this. I think that's great. For them. I guess it's that some part of me feels too much like an opportunist or ... too vain if I overwhelm the Internet with my me-ness.

I'm discovering that it can be a tough line to walk between self-advertisement and self-indulgence.

At the same time, I'm also working on this taking risks thing/making my life more awesome. I've always admired people who tell me stories of the crazy things they did in their youth for money or for the hell of it.

Standing back and looking at the fact that today I: Read a book. Went back to sleep because I convinced myself I needed more. Washed some dishes ... I see that I could use a little more excitement.

I have to say, I have been acting on this. I recently worked at a gay/lesbian travel expo for 5 hours. I was in charge of (wo)manning a booth where the coordinator gave me free beer.

I am being considered to lay down some back-up vocals on an experimental band's new album (i don't know anyone in the band and it's kinda scary) for some cash and a burrito.

And today, my big step was to respond to a craigslist add for a photographer who wanted visually interesting faces to take pictures of. I'm not totally sure what "visually interesting" means to him, but I think I can have a pretty expressive face.

This leads me to today's post. While searching for just the right picture to send to him, I stumbled upon some pictures that have been sitting on my computer, bored, unshared, lonely, neglected--so I believe that for the next few posts, I'll give them a little light.

Today's picture story:

Thanksgiving 2008 @ the Ballards

Composition Book Sample Tray

2009-03-08T22:35:00.000-07:00

Some things I've wondered and thought about while on the bus to various interviews for jobs I have not gotten:

-What are we supposed to do with our VHS tapes?

-Who figured out how to eat an artichoke?

-Do people who are blind experience that feeling you get when you know someone is staring at you?

-If I hung out with the younger generation, I'm pretty sure I could start a word-of-mouth understanding that the slang "to dis" someone came from the word "disappoint" instead of "disrespect".

-I can't imagine the world without earphones.

-How did people find drugs? Did they just walk around, look at plants and ask "can ya smoke it?"

-The most attractive thing to do in public is read.

-Did the invention of electricity actually improve society?

-I really liked the professor I had who encouraged me to take two shots of whiskey before coming to my final.

A stumble I'll share with you.

2009-02-24T00:28:00.000-08:00

This guy made me want to start drawing again. www.jowpaul.com

Jennifer needs...and a thank you to Google for it's slap-in the face style reality checks.

2009-02-20T13:25:00.000-08:00

1. Jennifer needs a smack daddy.

I have never denied this.

2. Jennifer needs to get in bed with Kyle.

I dunno who Kyle is...but BRING IT ON!

3. Jennifer needs a cold shower.

After Kyle, who wouldn't?

4. Jennifer needs a mortician.

wait for it...

5. Jennifer needs a shave.

I don't know who this stalker is, but I can't blame them for telling the truth.

6. Jennifer needs to get over what happened between Angelina and Brad.

I do. I really do. It still upsets me but I've been working on it.

7. Jennifer needs a muzzle.

Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I've heard this.

8. Jennifer needs 2 1/2 cups of sugar to make cookies for 15 people.

This seems like a lot of sugar. But why question google?

9. Jennifer needs to find a self righteous, conspicuous "I'm better than you" charitable position so she can keep charming the sheep into thinking she matters a rat's ass, like Scangalina did.

This is getting pretty involved. Didn't say I was WORKING ON IT?

10. Jennifer needs to date men her age.

Amen. My constant longing for the "slightly matured" needs to tone down a bit. Let's stick with under 70 years old, shall we? Perhaps that would cure my need for a mortician...

...OH SNAP!

Show and Tell

2009-02-18T17:13:00.000-08:00

I was looking through my saved school work from my elementary days this afternoon. I found one truly profound essay that I will share with you now.

"Achieving Student of the Year"

My main goal is to get student of the year. I will work as hard as a bird building his nest. I will have my work finished by nine o'clock the next morning. In this way I will get a good grade. Another way I can achieve student of the year award is by doing this. I will help my classmates out with any problems they have what so ever. I will also help the teacher out with anything he needs help with.

I might not achieve this goal. But if I can help alot of people and be a great role model then it is worth a try. I want to achieve this goal because it will only be a one time experience for me. My parents and other relitives will be proud of me.

My other goal that is not so important is to finish all of my work. If I finish all of my work that will help me reach my main goal. Like I said I will have to work hard. But if that is what it takes I will try my hardest. Those are my goals.

--Jennifer Rowe, Age 11

Shuffled in with my school stuff, I found a very short story written by my brother. I will share it with you now.

"A Brief Tale of Woe and Longing"

Sometimes, snuggly-wuggly in my bed late at night when all is dark and wind whistles through the trees and through Emily's little doggie noggin, I dream dreamy little dreams of longing about the $20,000 J. Peterman Shopping Spree. Oh, joy! Oh, Rapture! I turn up my electric blanket so high that if my feet were two slices of bread, in the morning they would be toast.

--Justus Ballard, Age unknown

It's too "internet" for comfort.

2009-02-16T19:13:00.000-08:00

Here is the personal add I'd like to post to an online dating website:

I'd really like to just get this all over with as fast as I can. I feel humiliated looking into this form of dating let alone including pictures and paragraphs so that people at the grocery store can do double takes swearing they've seen me somewhere before. At first, I tend to be cold and insensitive to people. This is partly because I try to mask the fact that I'm painfully shy and partly because I find small talk incredibly boring. That said, the people-pleaser in me will try to make up for my icy ways by giving warm generous laughter so as not to make you assume I'm just a jerk. Once in a while, people get lucky and the stars seem to align in just the right way so that I can make a real connection at first sight. This does happen...although rarely...and not too much recently.

I am attracted to men. That said, I am as picky with men as I am with food. There are rules--and exceptions to the rules--and exceptions to those exceptions whenever I deem appropriate. This means, unfortunately, that you probably wont know where you stand for awhile but you're not alone. It also means that I don't know where you stand either. I try not to be too rash in my decisions when it comes to my love life.

There are two men who may pull rank over you if they ever decide to ask me out. If one of them does, I'd ask that you bow out gracefully. Of course, I'm always hopeful that I'll meet someone who makes them disappear from my mind and hope there are men up to that challenge. This may seem harsh, but the fact is that I fall very easily and (truthfully) it might just take two dates with you.

It's probably wise that I don't date anyone who is more paranoid or anxious than I am. Although I do think that suffering mild anxiety attacks with someone is a truly bonding experience.

I've grown bored of this preference guys have to women who are "active". I'd like to challenge the meaning of that word. I'm active. That said, I do not hike every weekend, bike around town, go for morning/night jogs or have a gym membership. I enjoy the outdoors but don't enjoy exercise routines which require the schedule of a part-time job with odd hours.

Yes, I value communication and believe in the open avenues both partners should have in relationships. No, I do not want to dissect everything by talking about our feelings. Frankly, nothing is ever solved by doing that and it exhausts the relationship. If a relationship had a head of hair, communicating too much would be what turned it gray before it reached puberty.

I could chose to say things about my personality--likes and dislikes, personality traits, things I do to pass the time--however, as interesting as I am, I think those things are much more interesting when discovered in person and not all at once in a blog-like format.

I despise the idea that as I write this, I feel more and more like a shopping advertisement. I feel like I should be giving you a discount on me in some way so that you'll find my words that much more of a "better deal" than the next girls add.

I am a generally happy person, have a few talents and am leading a pretty fun life. I am annoyed at the fact that I have to actually state those things like I'm my own lawyer. Is this really what it's come to? Business-like dating? Please Please Please someone allow me to delete this add as soon as possible.

My date with the bronze halter top.

2009-02-02T11:43:00.000-08:00

While walking down the street the other day I saw a man who looked very familiar walking towards me. I couldn't place him so, naturally, I just continued to stare at him. He met my eyes for a couple of seconds and as we were passing each other, he winked and said "hey". This wasn't a "Hey" like "baby, you so fine mama". It was a "hey" like "I haven't seen you in forever!".

I hate these situations. The ones where you can't remember someone but they sure as hell remember you. You just stand there hoping that a flood will come or a building will burn--something big enough to make you run as far away from the situation as you can.

We shake hands and smile at each other. Then he says "Oh--sorry...I thought I knew you-shit-sorry you look really familiar."

"You looked familiar too. I thought you were my friend Kevin" (a lie.)

"Huh...well...you like the Rolling Stones?"

"Yeah, I mean, sure"

"Cool, Cool...you're kind of a hottie."

"um. thanks."

"Do you mind if I say that? Does that offend you?"

"No, I guess it's flattering..."

"You wanna get some coffee sometime?"

"Maybe."

"Can I have your number?"

"Okay."

He just so happens to have a pen and paper and I give him my number. Right there on the sidewalk outside Fred Meyer. After saying "Wow...I didn't think that would work" he told me he'd call me, turned, and walked off.

He was not homeless. He seemed stable. But the entire time I could not figure out if I found him attractive or not. When I got home and started talking about the situation I began to convince myself that he wasn't attractive and that I probably shouldn't go out with him.

After he called and left two messages, I was convinced by my sister and friends otherwise. And they were right. I'm always talking about taking risks. This is a perfect example. Not only should I take the risk to go on a date with this guy, but this guy took a huge risk in asking me out and calling me--I should honor that.

Now. I've heard it said a couple of times that dating is like shopping. You try on different outfits until something works/feels good. I, not ever having gone on a date with a boy (except that one god-awful blind date a couple of years ago), took this to heart. Luckily, I had been so anxious about the date the entire two days before and was worn out by the time the date actually happened. I showed up with a book-early-because I couldn't remember what he looked like and figured he'd just find me. He was late. I was not nervous. He was nervous. I did not get to talk. He got to talk. This is how it was for an hour. I found out so much about his life and the kind of person he is and he knows very little of me. Except that he asked for me to go into a little more detail about the Rolling Stones.

I tried him on. He didn't fit. Or even really look good on the rack. But I did appreciate his boldness. He was like that one bronze halter top you see at the back of the store that is only available in your size. It catches your eye. You know you'd never wear it. But you might just have to try it on.

Today's Redemption

2009-01-21T13:16:00.001-08:00

SINCE I am the only one in my household without a "real" job right now, I have entered into fits of paranoia. I am constantly thinking that my roommates (although they never say it) resent me in my present situation. They have to go to jobs and school and don't get to sit around all day watching the pet adoptions channel on demand. Which is what they think I do. But truthfully, if we're being really honest, I've only done that twice.

It's in the way they look at me. I've become hypersensitive to the way they say "hello" to me when they come home. Sometimes I pretend I'm not at home when I hear them coming up the stairs. In those instances, I hide in my room quietly not making a sound until they go to the bathroom or out back and then I sneak out like a mouse. Usually, I walk around the block a couple times then "come home" as if I've been doing very important things all day. Again, if we're being honest, I've only done this like 6 times. To each of them.

In order to make myself less paranoid, I've decided my role in the house is the housekeeper. Let's not get too crazy, I'm not busting my balls around the house every second of the day...I do have things to do like look for jobs, write very long letters and have mini-dance parties.

It is true, though, at least twice a week I find myself with the big yellow gloves on attacking either the kitchen or bathroom. Today I decided it was time for me to really give it to that bathroom. I'm so sick of it. I'm sick of the smells that sometimes come from the drain which my sister thinks is "just the way our bathroom smells in the winter". I refuse to believe this. It's nasty. If i didn't know better, I'd think we were living with three cats that had the mange, ill-timed bowel movements and were too tired or lazy to care where they emitted their stench as long as it was in the bathroom.

So there I stood in the doorway to the bathroom, hands on hips, ready to conquer. As I cleaned the bathroom, I noticed a lot of things.

1. I guess hair can get suctioned into cracks along the walls of the shower instead of just slithering down into the drain with the water pushing them.
2. The smell of bleach can become undetectable if you spend enough time with it.
3. Don't ever clean the floors/floor molding/bathmats before you clean the shower. The cleaning of the shower will just make everything wet and dirty again.
4. The drain cover to our shower pops out.

#4 was the most disturbing thing I've had happen all week long. I thought I had broken the thing until I realized it was supposed to come out. That was, of course, only after I'd pulled three rat-sized soggy hair clumps out of the drain. *Shudddddder* I swear to God when I looked down in that drain, I knew two things for sure.

1. The underworld was being revealed to me in all of it's gross detail.
2. There is no heaven.

Luckily, things get better. I did clean the bathroom--drain, sink, walls, floors and all. It's not sparkling (our bathroom just wont ever sparkle) but it is clean as can be. Also, my paranoia for the day has certainly dissipated.

Shop wise at the Life Store.

2009-01-06T16:46:00.000-08:00

I'm beginning to see the startling similarities between finding a job and finding a date.

When I graduated from College, I truly believed it was a new beginning. I looked forward to setting career goals, meeting them and setting more for the rest of my life. I figured somewhere along the way, romance would ensue and unensue and ensue again. I saw in myself new blood, a person who was ready and willing to tackle new projects. I knew I had the courage to enter the working world with a steady mind and an incomparable drive.

This confidence I had in myself only made me picky. Since I had a little money saved up, I was fortunate enough to skate by while keeping my options open in the job market. If I didn't find something that suited me completely and what I wanted for my life, I passed it up. Boy did I pass some things up.

And as for the boy market, I figured that such a confident woman who obviously had such a bright future ahead of her deserved the utmost best. I was holding out for something truly magical--something worth it or at least worth remembering.

As predicted, both of these things happened and for a few weeks, I had the world at my feet. Unfortunately unpredicted was the fact that both the job and the boy were "limited time only" kinda deals. It was like I'd scored at the 2-for-1 life sale.

Recently, while still searching for both, I've noticed that my standards in both arenas have started to dissipate, ignoring one flaw at a time.

"Well...so what if the job is an hour away..."
"So he doesn't know what a play is...not everyone does..."
"I could look good in that color of uniform..."
"His remark about being possibly my "last chance" was kinda clever...in context"
"Being a janitor is really just like cleaning my house super often"
"People have overcome the language barrier before in relationships"

It seems that every day another month has passed without any indication that I will be having a future life. Something has to happen and it has to happen soon. I'm putting myself out there, so fate--it's your turn now, buddy.

Oh, and fate? I don't want anything on sale.

Hear me out

2009-01-05T14:39:00.000-08:00

I have been without a solid voice for about 5 days now. It's starting to make things difficult. I had a few plans on my itinerary to call certain places about upcoming auditions, job possibilities, things like this--only to realize that I sound like some kind of lost animal. So far, the people on the other line have been nice enough not to hang up on me, but that does not stop them from wanting to end the conversation as soon as possible. One guy I called about an audition must have thought "hopefully she's a mute physical comedian."

Other difficulties that come with not speaking include: Talking back to the TV, expressing the proper joy and surprise when my sister came home with a 3 pound Hershey bar, practicing my solos for the musical I'm in, singing in the shower, and the constant fear of being arrested because I'm slipping my bank teller a note.

Naturally, I started thinking of the Monks. Now, I understand the not speaking thing. But did they make any noises at all? Like what if something really scared them?

Imagine a monk in your mind. We all have that one stereotype we think of, just go there. You know the one. The guy with the shaved head that looks like the friar from Robin Hood complete with brown hooded robe and the rope that ties around his waist. And obviously it's like late 1700's. He's gotta have a torch with a flame in one hand, held above his head and an open (or closed--you choose!) Bible in his other hand.

For some reason our monk is in a cave. I know--he's going on a spiritual quest like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So there is this sacred cave that only "One must enter" at a time. And it's gotta be dark in the cave. And wet. Just for effect.

Okay, so you have your monk and he's going on his quest, right? He lights his torch at the entrance to the cave and steps in. his sandals sink into the mush below him as he carefully makes his way deeper and deeper into the cave. He is searching for the "throne of enlightenment" he has been told resides at the end of the cave. Droplets of water fall at odd intervals around him. His senses heightened, and his awareness sharpened by the adrenaline, he pauses thinking he saw a flash of something or a flicker of movement up ahead.

The monk shuts his eyes, thinks a quick prayer, and continues ahead forcing himself to believe it was nothing--or perhaps it was God. Something to make himself feel better, more comfortable. And so he continues until the feeling that someone or something is behind him slowly creeps up his back.

And this is where my question lies. Is it really possible for a monk to turn around, and see a man with a hatchet or a giant man-eating spider and not say anything at all? Not utter one word?

I've thought about this before. It's not one of my biggest fears by any means, but it is still there in my head sometimes. The possibility that I'm home alone and some crazy person breaks in and tries to hurt me, but I'm not able to scream because I'm sick and i can just whisper 'Ahhhhh!" over and over.

Can you imagine? How terrifying. Some very quiet and stealth-like ninja coming in and torturing you when you can't talk above a whisper. This may happen more than we think.

Whisper: "Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!"

At the very loudest, passersby might just think I'm making "large stadium crowd cheering" noises again.

Write Right #2

2008-12-24T00:46:00.000-08:00

It seems that every time I go out shopping for anything at all, I end up buying a journal. Okay, guys, I'll admit this has become a little out of hand. I have about 27 unused journals not counting the little pocket books that are shuffled together in one of my drawers (bought mainly because of the advertising scheme so creatively executed by moleskin...bought a lot of those just so that I could have the pleasure of saying very pompously "you know...this is actually the same journal Earnest Hemingway wrote his masterpieces in...har har har." When would I ever say that and not be totally embarrassed 10 minutes later? Never. Really, never.)

With every exciting purchase of a journal I experience an overwhelming sensation of inspiration--this journal is going to be cram-packed with my newest and latest thoughts that will be pieced together in such a unique and surprising way that other journals will have total journal envy. Just you watch. And only for the sweet price of 13.50.

Unfortunately, rare is the time a newly bought journal ever gets to feel my pen to it's paper. I'm not exactly sure why this is. But it is.

Along with my extensive collection of dusty blank journals, I do have a couple of journals with pages filled. One completely filled. Filled with crap. Sometimes while in one of my nostalgic moods I'll flip through the pages trying to convince myself not to be hasty and immediately throw away the embarrassing entries because (as i reason) how much more embarrassing would it be for someone to find these entries and publish them?

My sister just received a Christmas present in the mail. The sight of surprise boxes instantly reverts me back to the age of six. I brought the package up the stairs into the living room then set the box down on the coffee table and waited patiently for Jodi to get home while staring at it...imagining and wondering what possibilities could be huddled inside.

It was a book. A book called Cringe. Cringe is a collection of a bunch of journal entries from adolescents. My sister opened to a page and started reading. It was everything you'd expect. It was everything you remember. Love notes to that crush you always had but never told. Angst-ridden letters to God about how much parents suck. Plans you have for how your arch-nemesis will someday get what they deserve. Ideas about your perfect first date, kiss, boyfriend, everything.

I found myself laughing pretty hard at some of these writings and just how seriously they took themselves. At the same time, I fully realized I was laughing at a younger version of myself in a way. Laughing at the pain-filled girl who was just trying to figure things out. Laughing at her like everyone else was. I found myself commenting on my own writings at that age, saying they were stupid and embarrassing. And for a brief moment, I wondered if that was true.

It really comes down to ownership. Is it wise to be ashamed of the past, to laugh at it, mock, and make fun of it? After all, no one should take themselves too seriously. Or is it wiser to claim the past, defend it and struggle to fight for that once-was version of yourself?

But hair?

2008-12-22T13:35:00.000-08:00

I am not going to miss the orangishy-red strands i have been finding in various places over the last two months. So recognizable. These strands have woven themselves into the couch, into my clothing, knotted themselves together in my hairbrush and in clumps together on my floor. I believe it was their siren color that made them stand out that much more around the house. Also, i couldn't blame the stray on my roomates since i was the only one sporting Vitamin-C hair circa 1997.

I have gone back to my normal dyed hair. I didn't expect the great relief i had when i was all blow-dried and finished. I didn't expect to feel like a part of myself that had been lost for some time suddenly rushed back into me.

I guess this is true for any positive change you make for yourself...but hair?

Perhaps I put too much stress on my hair. Aside from the constant physical damage of relentless dying and blow-drying, I also burden it with expectations. My hair makes me feel calm, relaxed, more confident, sexier when it's doing the right thing for me; when it looks good. And on those occasions that it doesn't make me happy, i place blame on my hair for feeling like a massive lump that should just fall over and rot.

I'm not sure how long this hair high will hang around. It might just last a couple of hours and the first few people to notice the change, then slowly disapate. On the other hand, maybe it's just the boost I need to kick my life back into gear and become a functioning, productive part of civilization.

Married

2008-12-19T10:51:00.000-08:00

I've decided not to get married today. It just isn't really the right time. Sure, I've entertained the idea for quite awhile. Ultimately I don't believe that today is the day.

I have, however, come up with the idea to look at all of the things in life that are beyond my hand-clenched control as decisions I've made at some point. In some way, I'm right about this. Although i may not have been making these decisions consciously, it is still me who has avoided certain things in life. Like getting married today.

So, basically--yes, I've been very productive.

I have two friends getting married tomorrow evening. To each other. It's especially romantic because i remember being friends with both of them separately at first. I remember the girl talking about the boy. I remember the boy pissing the girl off on purpose. Then they hooked up and "kept it a secret" for a few months. We all caught on and pretended it was a secret too and that we didn't know what was going on between them.

I remember laughing about how their lives would be if they did hook up. The boy is French, so naturally, we figured they would have 7 tiny boys who were just like him and smoke cigarettes at the age of 3.

Their rapport was crazy. He would piss her off. She would pout. He would apologize profusely. She would begin to smile. He would piss her off again. And so it continued. An odd circle that seemed like so much work to maintain. But to them, it came so naturally and willingly--they fell into it together. This cycle. This balance. And whats more, they both understood it.

It's the kind of thing we all hope for--to be with someone so easily and to understand how you fit together so organically--these two had it and what is even cooler is that no one understood it but them. It was theirs. Completely.

The night they decided to tell me about their relationship it was a big production. We three went out to drinks and after about an hour of joking around and drinking, the boy and girl looked at each other and stopped talking. I quickly reflected on what I might have said to make the mood shift so suddenly only to find out that it wasn't me at all--it was them together. They were together. It was a very serious moment. Because it was so serious, i figured there was something else coming--"I'm pregnant with his seven french babies who will begin smoking at the age of three." Luckily that was not the case. Seven is a lot of babies. And cigarette prices are only rising.

Watching their relationship grow over time, although our paths haven't kept us in frequent contact, it is still plenty obvious to me that these two people have really blended into each other. A true union, well before the ceremony. They bring out each others best qualities while still maintaining (although toned down) some of the quirks and eccentricities that make us continually enjoy them as people.

Congrats to Nico and Skye.