I'm sick today. I hate it when I get ill right before a major holiday, because it means I can't really participate. Probably my mom won't allow me to even go, so I'll be stuck in the house. Lovely. I never see my family, and one of the few times I get to spend ANY time with them, I have to stay home. This is just my luck in life. I have some flu-like symptoms as well as a migrane and sleepiness. I've had an ongoing headache for the last few days, but I think this is because my doctor has switched me onto another type of pill, this time for Bipolar disorder. As a result, and I find this is pretty true with any new meds, I'm sick. So, I called in sick to work today and didn't go to class, so now I feel like a big stupid idiot. Oh well. My boss seems to be a very understanding person, so I hope he'll understand this. It probably seems like I'm playing hookie, but I'm not. Right now I feel really really hungry. Mom made me eat some corn for dinner, which made my stomach churn a little, but I'm just more hungry now. I havent eaten anything since breakfast, which I threw up. I think the egg in my muffins wasn't cooked well enough, so this might be a combo of food poisoning/medication change weirdness. *Sigh*

As for my mood, I feel like crying but can't. I feel like a big dummy. Maybe tommorow I'll feel better.

As for the dating forecast, it's bleary. Foo.

Welcome Tigger to the Jungle

I only cried a little bit today, although I am still feeling a little depressed. Yesterday I adopted Tigger, an 8 year old male cat who I can only describe as "extremely fluffy" (which means he's a tubbo). He reached out of the cage and gave me a big hug when I went to visit him. Absolute sweety.

P.S. The white kitty was adopted. :) This makes me happy. I know his family will love him dearly.

Tommorow we're getting a new cat. Or maybe two new cats. I havent decided yet. Mom continues to try and get me something that will get me busted out of my depression, and today it was cats. About a year ago, when we lost our cat Lythie, I decided that I wanted to adopt more cats that were older in age that had special needs, or were almost at the point of being put to sleep due to the fact that no one wanted them. Understanding what it's like to feel like you aren't wanted, I decided that saving animals in need was something I wanted to do. However, Spunky and Kahana, our other cats, were very upset when Lythie came to live with us, so the idea of any new pets was pretty much out of the idea.

So, today I slept in until 2pm (the latest I have ever slept in) after having an awful night and depressive spell the day before. I screamed and cried and felt like committing suicide all day. Unfortunately, these days seem to get more and more frequent. I'm losing faith in the idea that I can be cured since I think about running away from home or death all the time. Actually, yesterday I almost did run away from home. I was in my car after work, and just started sobbing. I was about three seconds from literally leaving the state. Why? A lot of things I think added up to this. I had seen a bird caught in netting around a building in downtown, and it died (there are at least 5 other dead birds caught in this netting. I hate seeing it everyday). Also, I found a baby's doll on the sidewalk. I put it up on top of a fire hydrant so that it would be safe if the baby's parents return. I lost my favorite doll on the street when I was a little kid too, but my dad found it later in a tree. Until it was found, I was heartbroken. I just kept imagining a very sad baby without its doll. Later I saw a dead squirrel in the road with its head squished. And while listening to the radio in the car at work, a man was talking about old cats who know they're to be put to sleep and try anything to get people to pay attention to them. That made me sob as well. So, yesterday was a bad day for me. I was also thinking about losing Sean, and was really missing him. I've been sleeping on his side of the futon like a total idiot. I think I should just stab myself in the heart so that the pain can't come back ever. Love is vicious, and not worth it.

But anyway, my mom calls me today and tells me about a cat at the Humane Society that needs me. She says that she thinks I should adopt him and then we'll join the "Hug-A-Pet" program with the SCV Humane Society and visit people who need animal therapy. This was part of my plan last year, but none of our pets are terribly calm anyway, so it didnt work out. So now I have three cats that have stolen my heart and tommorow I have to decide. I'm sure two of them will be coming home with me, although I feel guilty for leaving the third one behind. He's white, and white cats tend to get cancer very easily since they have no pigment. I doubt I could deal with another cat's death so quickly, although eventually, all my cats will die. I dread the day that happens. My mom always says I'm an emotionally strong person, but I feel like I cant handle pain anymore. I love the animals, I just wish they'd outlast me. Actually, I wish I had a pill that would wipe certain tramatic parts of my life. Like, I'll remember having Lythie with me, but I won't remember her dying or her getting sick. Pain and saddness are quickly taking over my life and I'm only getting worse. I know I will kill myself unless all this depression is destroyed very soon. No maybes, only certain death.

I hope this cat and volunteering to make others happy will in turn make me happy. I'm losing my life.

What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me...

Okay, stupid line from a dumb song. It's all about the stupid music I think. I mean, stupid music like the Haddaway song I quoted in today's title is very true. What exactly IS love? According to the cynical view of Jen (Yes, I'm speaking in 3rd person like Bob Dole does. Bob Dole likes Cheese. Bob Dole like Viagra. Bob Dole likes Viagra and cheese. See? It gets weirder as I go on.) love is a sort of fleeting feeling. Nobody stays in love forever. I know of one couple who has been in love with each other since they were 15. They're both in their mid to late 30's, and are now married with a son and another kid on the way. Both of them are absolutely wonderful people, and I wonder if a life-long love like theirs is even remotely possible for a cynic like me.

But anyway, I digress. The idea of this blogspot is to put my ideas to paper, or website as it seems. Love sucks. The End. Need more? Tune in tommorow, Same Bat Time, Sam Bat Channel!

Jen changes her hairstyle once again...

This makes it the 4th time I've either changed my hairstyle or haircolor since July. Now, to some people, changing your hairstyle this much in about 5 months is nothing. I, however, have had the same hairstyle for more than 6 years. So, rapid hair clippings or colorings are pretty out of character for me.

So, what have I done to my hair this time? Well, it's practically back to it's natural dishwater brown color after trying to dye it black for Halloween. Today I went to SuperCuts and showed them a picture of what I wanted me hair to look like. It came out a little shorter than I wanted, but it'll grow out quickly on me. Right now, I have hair that comes up to the bottom of my ears. It has many layers cut into it so it'll curl out easily, but I really think I look like the short-haired version of Haley Mills in "The Parent Trap". Both people who have seen it say it looks great, but they both grew up in the 50's and 60's when hair like this was fairly normal. Honestly, it makes me look a bit boyish, but hey, change can never be bad. It's not as if I'm really looking for a boyfriend right now, so who really gives a care? I intend to have fun with my funky hair for a while, maybe put some pomade in it and make it real spiky or whatnot. Just not too much hair craziness, or my boss may think I'm being unprofessional (remember, I work for the police, so I have to look fairly normal to be a good example of the department.)

But anyway, this weekend was good. Mom was gone for all 3 days of it, so I rented movies, made cookies, bought a pizza for dinner, and had full run of the house all weekend. This really makes me want to get my own place. If only I could afford it! A part-time meter maid/college student rarely has the money to fork out over 1000 dollars a month for a small apartment. Some of the anxiety I have felt in the past has been aleviated by my mom, who now lets me sleep in the garage where we have a guest room set up. It makes me feel a little bit more separate from her and the house, even though I'm less than 30 ft from both. I'm just happy to have a full sized bed for the first time in my life! Such small things really make the difference. I'm starting to feel it now. My "room", the new hairdo and a good attitude that is slowly coming long are what keep me from going totally bezerk and mowing down an entire McDonalds. I'm just kidding. Somebody actually did that once somewhere. I'm not exactly clear on the details, but I can assure everyone that is the furthest thought from my mind. Goodnight everyone!

Jen's Mood Di Jour: Positive with Introspection Rising

Happy Day

Today was all about rest and relaxation. I spent part of my day browsing essential oil bottles at Longs and Whole Foods, trying to find ingredients for a bunch of homemade facial mask recipes I found on the internet. The other part of my day was spent snuggling up under a warm blanket with the most wonderful guy in the whole wide world - My cat, Spunky.

Spunky is one of the funniest animals I've ever seen. He loves to stick his face into everything to see what it is. Sometimes I find him sitting next to the kitchen sink, swatting at the trickle of water coming out. Today he was very interested in my Oreo cookie shake. Okay, so I've become one of those bizarre "pet moms", the type of person who thinks that everything their little pet does is just so darned cute. Okay, maybe I haven't gotten that far, but Spunky definitely has me wrapped around his little paw. I love Spunky so much that I even know what cat foods he likes and dislikes (weirdly enough, he doesn't like tuna) and what games he likes the most. Plus, he's very vocal about everything. For instance, when I come home from work or school, and he's been outside all day, he'll be waiting for me on the front porch. When I walk up to the door and say hello to him, he lets out a loud meow, like "Where the hell have you been?". Or, sometimes he'll walk into a room and meow, and my mom will say "Yes?" to him. Then he'll meow back, and she'll talk to him. It's really funny to watch.

Tequilla Shooters and Karaoke

Talk about a strange night. This evening it was my mom's friend's birthday party, which I had chosen not to go to, but my mom called me at about 10:30pm and told me they were doing karaoke. Well, I've always wanted to do karaoke, but never had a chance. So, I washed the aloe-oatmeal mess (a totally different story. tommorow I'll cover it), got dressed and drove to the place they were. My mom's friend decides that she wants to buy me a 21st birthday gift and buys me, my mother and a friend of hers Tequilla Shooters. Now, if you know me, you know that I'm a fairly low-key person, at least when it comes to drinking. Since my birthday, I've been cautiously sampling mixed drinks to see what I like and what doesn't interact horribly with my medication (once again, a totally different story). So, my mom and I are looking at each other like, "What the heck is going on?"

So, to make a long story short, I chugged the tequilla shooter, and stuck a piece of lime in my mouth. Honestly, it was a pretty bad experience, once which I will hopefully never repeat. I mean, it was kinda fun, but I think the whole "weirdness quotient" of the situation was wildly thrown off by the fact that I was doing shots with MY MOTHER and A WOMAN WHO HAS KNOWN ME SINCE I WAS 7. It was truly a bizarre evening.

And then, there was the Karaoke. My first song, "If I had a Million Dollars" by the Barenaked Ladies, totally sucked ass. I introduced my second song "Hell" by the Squirrel Nut Zippers with a joke: "The song I will be doing now is called 'Hell', which is where you will all be for the next two minutes." Everybody thought that was pretty funny. Oddly enough, I did pretty well singing the second time around. I believe this is because I am one of Satan's minions (A.K.A. Metermaid) and I sing "Hell" in my car with reckless abandon fairly often. I also felt a little more comfortable, and did one of those Elvis moves at the end where he'd jump down on one knee and move his arms back and forth. You know what I'm talking about. But either way, it was an experience.....one that will take more years of therapy to undo. Just kidding!

Today was both a sad and happy day. Sad because I feel unhappy about my breakup with Sean, but also happy because I've been able to control my depression on the subject better than in the past. I made a CD of MP3's that I labelled my "Ass Kickin'" music, otherwise known as the stuff that helps me feel better about myself. Being involved in music myself and being around people involved in music for the majority of my life means that my mood can be changed by music. Sure, being a trombonist wasn't always the best "happy mood" music, but I think it also made me feel better about myself.

Lately, I've been thinking of taking up the violin again. My friend Jon has recently taken up the piano and can play some great classical music already. I think a duet of classical piano and violin would sound fantastic. Plus, if I wanted to, I could go join a rock band (Dave Matthews Band has an amazing strings player. He looks like the type of guy who'd smash in your head for your watch, but he sure can play a mean violin.)

Speaking of rock bands, my friend Pat and I have on and off been discussing starting a band for about a year now. We both have many musically inclined friends from high school, so putting a band together wouldn't be hard at all. We've decided that Pat will sing and I will play the tambourine. Hah! Because, hey, who wants to hear a trombone unless it's ska, or you're trying to attract a moose for mating? Seriously folks, I played trombone for five years, I should know.

More tommorow. It's 1am, and I'm sleepy. That means stop looking in my windows people! (okay, paranoia flare there. Never mind.)

It's amazing how life can change in less than 24 hours.

I broke up with Sean on one condition: That when he finishes his thesis he can make a decision on whether or not he'd like to continue dating me. I didn't break up with Sean because he was paying more to his thesis than me; I broke up with Sean because I don't believe he understands what you have to put into a relationship to make it work. The one thing that really upset me was a lack of feeling appreciated. I told Sean the things I wanted from him. Over and over I told Sean what I wanted. Nothing ever changed though. He'd still talk to me like I had no brains in my head, or would make me feel bad for expressing any opinion that differed from his. And, all I asked for was a friendly conversation once a day on IM or the phone (I would call long distance to spare him the charges) during the period he was working on his thesis. I also asked for more intimacy for when I did see him. I don't mean sex, although sex is nice. What I wanted was hand holding, cuddling, kissing and just plain old togetherness. Sean didn't even hold my hand on Halloween until we were walking back to my car at 1am!

What Sean told me last night is that when I would try to kiss him, he'd pull away "just as if grammy was trying to kiss me". Great. I've never had anyone complain about my kissing, but this was less a complaint than an insult. Perhaps Sean has no idea what it's like to have a girlfriend, and maybe he's just not ready for a girlfriend. I think that I need to move on. I feel that Sean has no interest in listening to hear what I need from him. At this point, it would take a miracle to convince me otherwise.

I really am enjoying my blogger. It's a lot easier to get into to edit than my webpage. But I digress. It's late Saturday night (or early Sunday morning, however you choose to see it.) I'm up listening to my mp3's that I keep around just for the purpose of cheering me up when I'm sucked into the black hole of depression. Right now I'm listening to the Montagues and Capulets part of Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet Suite. Ever since I read it, there's been a special place in my heart for the story of Romeo and Juliet. In some ways, I've envied the story of the star-crossed lovers. To know you have found true love, and to feel complete happiness with that one person is divine. Even though Romeo and Juliet's deaths at the end are tragic, it is very crucial to the feeling of the story. What I mean is if they hadn't died, would Romeo and Juliet's relationship stayed passion-filled and perfect? Most likely not. The two are in their teens, and as we all know, the beginnings of any relationship are full of fire, passion and dreamy eyes.

I'm not even sure where I'm going with this discussion of the story, except that I wish for passion and fire in my life which is unfortunately devoid of such pleasures. Oh sure, at times it has been great, but I describe my life as more like looking at a portrait of someone or something. At first, you see a perfect scene, but as you look closer you start to notice things are out of place or unclear.

Dealing with severe depression is like standing in wet cement. You know you want to move your feet but you can't. You have sunny goals and dreams, like sidewalk chalk pictures. Carefully done and planned out, they are all washed away when the rain cloud of depression comes. I wish for so many things, but deep inside I know I can never have them. I wish for a career that makes me happy and gives me a way to support myself. I wish for a partner in life, someone who I can experience things with, go places, have adventures, and never doubt. Someone who is strong in their convictions and willing to risk themselves for others. Perhaps my dreams are too out of reach. I'd like to think that isn't true. Sometimes I feel like I can see through the black cloud and know that there's a happier life waiting for me somewhere out there.

I think I have read too much Shakespeare for my own good.

Jen becomes a collectible!

I've often joked about it, but I would really like my own action figure. Not long ago, I saw a story in the Merc about a new idea Neiman-Marcus (or some other incredibly expensive store which I will never shop at because I'm incredibly cheap) was hyping: Your very own action figure. No joke. It looks like you, comes in colorful packaging, and only costs 7 thousand dollars! How could I say no? Hmmm...like this: "No." Hehehe. Okay, so the idea was a good one, but the price is a little steep for me.

So, even though my dream of having my own action figure didn't happen, I went on with my life and didn't give the idea of being a collectible another thought until Thursday. That day, I was at work (a police department for those of you who don't know me), and happened to be in the station when one of the women from our Records department asked me "Would you like your own trading card?" Again, for those who don't know, all the police departments in the bay area now print up trading cards of most of their officers. This is a way to get kids excited about law enforcement and knowing the officers rather than just seeing them as scary adults. So far, the idea has worked. There's a huge demand from kids for these little cards at city events, and even I've been asked if I had one.

Even though I've been working for the police department for over a year now, and am well known in the city I work for, I was still surprised when they offered me my own trading card. I only thought the regular officers got the opportunity, but I happilly agreed to finally become a collectible. So, now all I have to do is choose where the picture of me is taken, what props to have in it with me, etc. I swear to God, this job IS my 15 minutes of fame. So far, I've been interviewed on tv, have become well-known all over the city (at least, infamously) and now I will have my own trading card. My life is so bizarre, yet so fun. What other 21 year old do you know that has her own trading card?

Today is spectacular

Last night, Patrick (a buddy from high school), Sean (my boyfriend) and I went to a massive block party on Castro street in San Francisco. I was guessing that there were maybe 10,000 people there, but the last tally I heard was that HALF A MILLION showed up. Unbelievable. The types of costumes were amazing. However, a major theme was drag queens and sailors (not really surprising because it was the Castro).

However, last night I realized that despite my traveling to other countries and having a lot of knowledge about sex and fetishes (my mom is a sex-ed instructor and I read all the odd stories on the Net) I have lived an INCREDIBLY sheltered life. We saw four men dancing in a 3rd story apartment with big windows. They had set up black lights so that their colorful outfits would shine while they performed for the crowd. Then suddenly, I realized the colorful outfits weren't outfits at all. It was just body paint, and you could see their penises flying around. I turned and looked at Pat and Sean and they just nodded and laughed at me.


It's a strange world, but someone has to be unusual or else we'd all be Republicans.