*Sigh*



I'm really tired, but I feel like writing. I was thinking today about my move represents a new chapter in my life (yeah, I know, I'm making a big deal out of this, but you have to realize that if I hadn't litterally pushed myself into this, I wouldn't have done it. I'm not regretting it either, so it's all okay), and so I thought about the old chapters of my life. For instance, the chapters of love in my life. Right now I'm burned out on relationships and the like, but I've still had great periods of relationships with every person I've dated (well, not all, but most. There was this one guy who I went out on a few dates with who was *seriously* neurotic and kept a sword and a dagger by his bed to defend himself with in the middle of the night. He was the most extreme case of bi-polar disorder I have ever seen. I'd like to believe I'm not crazy at all, even though I make fun of myself by saying I am, but even if I was, this guy would be a hundred times worse than me. He punched a cement wall when I told him I didnt want to go out anymore.)

But John and Jon (my first and second loves), and even initially with Rudy and Sean (the nightmare boyfriends), these represent some good times in my life. I've lived a good life so far, even if it has been melodramatic and/or bizarre at times. I haven't always been able to appreciate it, but now I can look back and say, "this was a good time". I remember my first kiss with John, my first real boyfriend. I was so crazy about him for years, even way after we broke up. I think that's what happens with first loves; you never really forget them, no matter how far away they are. And Jon, whom I never regretted was my "first", no matter how often we fought then or now. I was happy then, and I remember how content I was.


And Sean and Rudy? Well, Rudy was nice because he let me eat ice cream for dinner, even though he dumped me for being "too close" to my mother (which I'm still convinced was a bold-faced lie). It was also interesting to see that he had man-boobies from losing 200 lbs in two months, and to learn how europeans are different from americans. Sean, even though he was a jackass, was endearing because he lost his train of thought when I grabbed his hand for the first time. We sat in his backyard all night on our second date and talked and laughed. It was a good night. It's amazing how quickly people can go from "endearing" to "asshole". You know he never locked his house's doors, even when nobody was home! Talk about asking for a burglary or to be murdered in the middle of the night. Sheesh!

What does it all mean?

I guess I'm having a hard time with this moving out thing. I mean, it's safe, but I'm still somewhat upset. I can't take my cat, and I feel like I'm kind of all alone in this. Jon and I aren't friends anymore, Danny has more important things to concentrate on, and I feel like my mom is pushing me out.

I'm Moving Out Finally...

Around Christmas, I started looking at apartments to move into. I had found one I kinda liked, but decided I wasn't ready to live by myself in an apartment that would require me to get another job. So, I stayed home and kind of moved into the garage (I have my futon out there). However, my friends Patrick and Jeff (people I know from high school. Pat and I are still pretty good friends) were wanting to move into an apartment, but couldn't afford it between the two of them. The solution? Me. Being somewhat financially secure for a 21 year old, I seemed like a good choice, because I have few, if any, nasty habits, even though I'm a girl and they're guys (their past roommate, our friend, Mark, played loud music late at night as well as his Bass early in the morning). So, by the end of this month, I should be living in a 2-bedroom, 2-bathroom apartment with Pat and Jeff (I get my own bathroom and bedroom since I can afford it and plus, living in the same room with a guy would be somewhat strange).

One of the problems? I'm kind of scared. You see, even though I'm having a really good streak with the anti-depressants and mood stabilizers, I'm afraid this change of life might send me into a tailspin. However, I do have the constant support of my counselor, psychiatrist, mom (thanks mom!) and Pat, who knows I have bad spells sometimes. Plus, it'll be really convenient to have one of my best friends less than 20 feet away from me.

Another problem? Tigger and Spunky have to stay with my mom because the apartment complex has a "no pets policy". Plus, it might be a little rude if Tigger pukes in someone's shoe or on their bed. So, we'll see how this works. I'm not obligated to stay any longer than I feel comfortable with, and mom says that if I need to, I can come back home. I feel a little bit better now. :)

Today I weighed in for the first time at Weight Watchers. The result? I've lost five pounds! Yay Jen! So 5lbs isn't a ton, but hey, you've got to appreciate the small victories. I celebrated by EATING FAJITAS! That one's thrown in for you Ryan (I think he doesn't like hearing about what I eat everyday. Hey, it's my journal, not yours).

But anyway, what else did I do today? I bought a copy of Lady Chatterly's Lover at Barnes and Noble. I always wanted to read the book because I heard it was really good, but never got around to it until now. In high school, I was required to read a lot of Shakespeare, and other classic writers, so my tastes in literature are somewhat different than you'd expect just looking at me. Dyed red hair, kind of mean looking. Who'd ever think this girl was literate, much less well-educated? Looking back on some of the books I had to read in High School makes me wonder why we never read Lady Chatterly's Lover, or why it was not even on our suggested reading list. I mean, here's a run down of themes I've books I had to read:

Romeo and Juliet: Pre-marital sex, suicide, murder

Julius Caesar: Assasination, the Occult

The Scarlet Letter: Adultery (if you didn't know, the "A" is for Adultery. Duh.), illegitimate children, guilt about sex leading to death, (excellent book BTW. Hester Prynn is the original "baby momma" *wink*)

The Crucible: A witch hunt (literally and figuratively), insanity in young women

Beowulf: Monsters killing humans, Egotistical human killing monsters


So what's a little adultery and a guy in a wheelchair going to hurt? I've already been messed up by Shakespeare. Sheesh.

Futzing with my Blog


Yeah, I changed the look of my Blog. It's all made for me, so don't email me saying how cool my new blog theme is because I can't take credit. But anyway, on to why I'm writing.

Most of you know that I live in San Jose. Well, for a long time, I've kinda kept myself under house arrest, not really going anywhere besides work and home. However, today, I went out! It's amazing the abundance of things there are to do in San Jose alone. For instance, for the last few weeks, Cinequest has been happening Downtown. It finished this past Sunday, but it's almost comparable to Sundance. We have celebrities that stop by (okay, so not as many as Sundance, but still) and amazing indie movies that are shown. I keep lousing out on going, even though I promise myself every year that I'll go.

Also, our art museum has free admission. So we don't have any Picassos or Degas'. Art is fun no matter what. I'm going to try to go really soon. I went once when I was in 6th grade, but I don't remember much from the trip except seeing cereal. Yes, cereal. In a plastic statue in the shape of a dog. The statue was filled up with Trix cereal. The name of the piece? "Old dog, new Trix". *groan*

My silly little story


I sit here, alone with my thoughts, in a room filled with mementos of my life, a short life, yet an overall happy one. In my life, and all lives, there is pain, there is tragedy, but there is also hope. I am hope. I was born as a symbol of hope, a continuation of a life never thought to exist long, and even in times when I felt I had no hope, I dug down deep inside and found it.
Now, I continue on, despite what has tried to destroy me. I survive. I live. I have hope. I close my eyes and look towards my future. I imagine my life in 5, 10, 20 years. In my future, I know there will be pain, I know there will be tragedy, but I also know there will be hope and ultimately, happiness. I will continue on, I will give hope to a new life from and old one I never thought would exist long - mine.

Crazy Writing


I tend to write much better late at night. When I had my creative writing class, all my best stories were written between 1-3 am. I can't even explain why my writing and ideas are better at night. Maybe my thoughts are clearer in the wee hours of the morning, I couldn't tell you. I've considered a career as a writer, but, like I said in one of my previous entries, I don't like being edited. However, one of my goals in life is to write a book that gets published. So far, I've got my idea for the book, but little energy to write it. I guess maybe I just don't feel passionate about my subjects. Oh well. I haven't felt real passionate about a lot of things for a while, such as love, my education or career potentials. I guess I'm just more invested in making sure I don't go into self-destruction mode right now. Deal with what's here and now and affects you today, right?

Why I write an online journal...



Friday night I went to the birthday party of my best friend from High School. Danny invited about 8 other people to go out to dinner with him, so I got to meet a lot of new people, which was great. During the evening, some of us got talking about ourselves, and the topic of my online journal came up. One of Danny's friends asked me why I choose to have an online journal that strangers read. I didn't really have a ready answer for her, except to say that it's interesting to have people give me feedback on what I write on here. Since then, I've thought up a better answer. I like to write. Whether it be stories, rants, raves, or whatever, I kind of like the attention. Plus, I like not having what I write censored by an editor. When I was a journalist for my high school's newspaper, my stories were always edited, and even though I'm sure they were doing it for the best, I felt like my writings were exactly worded how I intended them to be.


Another reason I choose to write an online journal is so I can express my emotions to others than just me. I complain about my job a lot, because the people I encounter can never meet the real me. Even the people I talk to on a friendly basis don't truly know me because there are certain things about me I choose not to talk about, such as my depression. My boss probably has an underlying idea that something is wrong sometimes, but I doubt he knows everything, even though police officers are very knowledgeable when it comes to what's wrong with others. Through my online journal, I can effectively feel like someone is listening to me when I'm lonely, and in some ways, educate others about people like me.