Jess's Page

I have been a very bad blogger.

So since it has been many, many moons since I have blogged I will share some updates.

I am officially in a relationship. I know, coronaries can now be had. I have realized that dating doesn't have to involve so much pressure. I don't have to be perfect or have everything together to let someone in my heart. I mean really, like I will ever have it together. I am only giving partial face coverage here. The poor boy is now in for being the topic of endless diatribes. I must do something to protect his identity. Luckily, he does not have the internet or a computer. Thank the Virgin for that one.



I finally enrolled in French and absolutely love it! I am officially on my way to being a certified Francophile! In my other academic pursuits, I finally embraced the dream and am on my way to switching to International Journalism. I have a few prerequisites to take and my focused path will begin.

Sadly, there will be no more Stud B stories. But, there will be more happier blogs. So here we go!

You would have been 27 today. Six years ago I was standing in the sand handing a carefully chosen gift tied with twine with a blue starfish on the top. It was the most precious thing I could give you. My very favorite book with something special underlined on page 44. I gave you my heart that day. We sat on the jetties and welcomed in the fourth. It was by far my best holiday. Six years. 2,191 days ago.

I'd give up every one of them to be back there.

Holidays with fireworks never work out that well for me. I always end up alone or with my quarreling parents, wondering if a day would come when the lit up sky would be enjoyable. I always tell myself that I will make plans and then the holiday creeps up on me and "ugghhhh" here I am. This year the options came a little late (today) and my melancholy has overshadowed any desire to venture out.

Today is your birthday and I wonder how long I will wish for the past and when will I just enjoy the present.

I was always jealous of those big families that actually acknowledged national holidays. They made plans weeks in advance and invited people over. So fun, those obligatory family functions my friend's complained about, I would have died to go to. I know you are choking on my self-pity. Sorry, but it continues.

Does it ever feel like you are playing at life? Trying on aspects that don't fit you. Perhaps, with the right accessories, it will come together and look like it was made for you. I feel like I have been playing dress up in things that are false.

A little girl wearing size 9 heels stumbling around with an empty martini glass and smeared red lipstick. Something is wrong. Things seem to have gone awry. My version of grown up seemed to match the world's: money, success, a great wardrobe, and tons of fabulous friends to pose in pictures. Really, all those things are just about me. How they look on me or around me. What hole they fill in my soul. I didn't have a section of "giving back" in my dream grownup world. I didn't think that happiness would be absent with the presence of all those things.

Now, in your absence, I think the most precious things are the moments, memories, and people in our lives. The fireworks displays with quarreling families, the phone calls from lost friends, and the love in our hearts.

You fit me and you are gone. So, what now?

I will embrace the truth I find in people and places. Put off false things and start planning the next holiday with fireworks now.

I worked at a law office this last week and this is what I did.

What is this phenomenon? Has the text surpassed the call? Now let me preface this tirade with an acknowledgement that I am a active participant in Twitter. We have formed a group as a result called "the framily" and consider ourselves a cult on the rise, so consider yourself forewarned. This group is filled with people with whom I have a long standing relationships and consider some of my best friends. So, this being said, I think that the "text" does have its place. I am frustrated by the "get to know you texts" that I have recently observed and encountered.

So let the tirade begin. ...

Okay, boys do you really think a girl will swoon over some carefully chosen sentences like the following "What r u up 2?" You know what? If you cannot take the time to type a two letter word, I don't think I have the time to get to know you. Or perhaps your severe case of number dyslexia disables you? Cannot or will not dial my digits, but can text them?

I am perplexed or pertexted.

"...her heart is violated and the message is driven farther in: you are not desired, you will not be protected; no one will fight for you."

The fear in every woman's heart. It lies in a secret place that she covers with cynacism, bitterness, and at times, independence.

I think really this struggle goes beyond gender to a deeper place, the very core our humanity. Don't we all want to know we are worth it? Worth the effort, worth the time, or even worth the phone call? We walk around with the nagging hope that someone, somewhere will think so. I was talking to a friend last night about the extremes that we go through to make ourselves be appealing or desired by others.

I thought the irony of it all is that once we change who we are to receive the needed acceptance we usually lose it. It is hard to admire a chameleon, their change is entertaining, but hardly worth treasuring.

My fighter is not hard to describe. I think he would know me and accept me for just that. Maybe to wonder what I thought about things, to read the books I read just because I read them, to want to really know me. He wouldn't want anything but the truth and love my truth.

One wonderful boy sent me this and I'll treasure it always.



That's what I'll wait for. Someone prepared for the fight.

So what is involved in your fight? What is the thing that you most need to feel battled for? Tell me what is most important to you.