9:53 AM - Thursday, Sept. 23, 2004
talking to myself again....
You know that saying: that crazy little thing called love? I like to say, that crazy little thing called life instead.

I went to the post office yesterday. Of course, if you go to the post office every single day... or even just once a week or once a month... you're going to meet or see a lot of interesting people. It's kind of like riding on a subway or a bus. Any kind of major transportation is going to put you in the direct path of various types of people.

While I was at the post office, I was thinking about a beginning for a book. I keep coming up with all sorts of book ideas, little inserts to place randomly in the book, and sayings I would want the characters to say. Of course, instead of spending my quality down time writing to put this book together, I end up playing The Sims 2, Sim City 4, or spider solitaire. It's almost like I can't push myself to do just one thing at a time. I have to multi-task or I go extremely insane. Even now I'm listening to the radio, answering the phones, writing my blog entry, and drinking a Dr. Pepper. And that's not even much of a multi-task. I could do a lot more. Already my mind has drifted off to other random thoughts while I'm in the middle of typing this. Do I have ADD and not know it?? No. Can't be possible. Or can it?

To get back on track and to the point, I remember being 22 or 23 and watching people around my apartment complex. There were people jogging, playing frisbee, walking their dogs, playing tennis, hanging out, and walking to class. It helps that I lived in Parkview, which was situated across the street from a park. I often wondered to myself, "what makes these people tick? How do they wake up every single day looking forward to the future?" It didn't help much that the reason I wasn't like some of these people was the fact that I suffered from depression.

But anyhow... now to really get to the point of this whole thing...

There's some people who move through life smoothly as if they know exactly what they want out of life, and, most importantly, exactly what they're doing. It's almost as if somebody created different molds in which to shape every single human being, and they said... "the people in this line will go through life as if they fit in with their surroundings and their world. The people over here won't feel comfortable in their own skin, and they'll go through life never fitting in with society. And these people over here... well, they'll be somewhere in the middle, fitting in yet fitting out." And they did it as a joke to see what kind of drama would enfold before them. I know you've seen these types of people, even if you don't go to the post office every day.

There's the 40 year old woman who wears her hair long. It's graying along the sides and is in need of a cut. She wears clothes that look like hand-me downs, even though she probably bought them brand-new ten years ago. Every time you see her, she never smiles... and she hides behind coke bottle sized glasses always staring down at the ground. She rushes everywhere, as if she spends too much time around people, she'll become infected with some kind of disease. Where does she fit in?

In one corner is the 20 year old overweight guy who breathes heavily when he walks. It takes him awhile to catch his breath even though he only walked about twenty feet on ground without an incline. He stands in the corner hoping nobody will stare at his puffy red cheeks and heaving chest. He wears large baggy clothing in hopes that the fabric hides his body; but most of all, he wishes the wall could mask him from the incredulous stares of his local patrons. Where does he fit in?

In another corner is a 36 year old mother of five children. All the children are screaming and running wild, paying no mind to her soft spoken voice when she begs them to settle down. She looks tired. She is tired. She gave an attempt to look good this morning, but didn't have time to do anything but throw her hair back in a scrunchie. She looks like she gave up trying a long time ago. She's on idle somewhere in the middle.

There's the guy everybody gets along with. He's probably 68 years old, but he looks like he's just turned 50. He smiles at people, and talks to them in an animated voice. Behind his rimmed glasses, you see that he's kind of lonely, but not completely. He likes to get out and talk to people, to meet them and find out all about them. He opens up to them right back, telling stories about his youth that he's trying to recapture. He's the guy who opens up the door for the ladies and says, "and they say chivalry is dead." He went through life working a medium paid job, married an average wife who bore him four average children. They all grew up in an average kind of way, going in all different directions when they reached adulthood. Three married average husbands and they bore this man average grandchildren. But he couldn't be happier and more proud. He's always fit somewhere in the middle, enjoying the pleasure of a few but good friends... but not completely fitting in with the rest of society.

Then you have the 19 year old college student. He's looking cocky in his jeans and logo T-shirt talking on his cell phone. He's wearing Ambercombie & Fitch and Birkenstock sandals. He's relaxed, overly confident, and completely sure of himself. He's the kind of young man that draws attention to himself whenever he walks into a room. He has a certain charisma about him that draws you to him. You either want to be his friend, his love slave, or... well... be him. People not only gravitate to him, they step aside to make his life easier. They do things for him. He doesn't have to ask, and if he does ask, there's no way anyone could possibly turn him down. He's far too charming and "nice." Somehow, somewhere... maybe it was his good looks or his upbringing... but he figured it out. He's the epitome of what you think society wants men to be.

Then there's the 27 year old girl whose standing around doing nothing at all. She looks like she fits in because she's comfortable with her surroundings and herself. Sure, she's dressed in Umbros and a man's T-shirt... and she's wearing Reebox instead of Nikes or Addidas.. but she's smooth. She's happy. She's relaxed. She fits right in.

Or do they only fit in because we assume so, and only because they seem to be comfortable in social situations? What if they don't really fit into the mold of society, but they just do a good job of acting the part? Besides, who is to say exactly WHAT defines a smooth comfortable person who seems to fit right in?

What about the teenagers and young adults... even some of the older adults who can't seem to let go of that youth... who try really hard to be noticed? They dye their hair purple or green, wear blue lipstick with green eye-shadow, dress in clothes that bare too much skin or show no skin at all... the people who tattoo their bodies, pierce their tongues, ears, bellybuttons, nipples and unmentionable body parts. I often wonder what possesses these people to be different, to do death defying stunts or mutilate their bodies in such a way that everyone around them looks them over and thinks, "My god! Look at him. I'd never let my child do that." etc. etc. etc. etc.

It's human nature to be beings of a social sort. Some of us just have social levels that are lower than others... some of us are full of anxiety and shyness so that we can barely pull off being social no matter how much we strive to be... and some of us are just so outgoing we get depressed if we aren't the center of attention. What I find extremely funny, however, is that it's usually the people dying for attention who call out others and declare them attention whores... especially when the attention is directed soley on that person rather than on the one who deeply wants to be that social icon.

We love to hate people. We love to pretend to love the ones we hate to their faces, but once their back is turned... it's gossip time. It's time to lay down the rumors and get to work on spewing more words of hate and dislike about somebody we really don't even know. And for those of us who don't gossip, they'd be lying if they didn't at least think distasteful thoughts about some people they can't help but hate. I'm not a gossiper, but that doesn't stop me from disliking people. It doesn't stop me from thinking terrible thoughts about those people I dislike. It doesn't stop me from telling my good friends about all the dreadful things I think about this person based upon my perception of their acts. I'd be a liar if I said I was holier than thou and spent all my time thinking free love thoughts on just about everyone. You'd have to be Jesus Huebert Christ to get away with that one. (Ryan - this doesn't give your friend Corey the freedom to run around saying he's excused from all of this!)

People love to cheat on people, too. Is it because we're genetically geared to want more than one person? Some people can handle being with only one person their entire life. They can mate and be perfectly content on all levels. But for the majority of the people (in America, at least), it almost seems as if we're running around like animals without all the fur. We want to slam bam thank you ma'am 10 or 20 different people. Does it mean we actually do that? No. Some actually do, but I know the majority don't act on these lusts.

I'm trapped in the middle. I want to be possessed by one man. I want that man to love me so unconditionally that when he is tempted by another woman he can't help but think of me. And he won't do her because of me.. because he respects me enough to know just how much it would destroy me if he wasn't loyal. Sex, to me, can be dirt cheap or it can be the most powerful bond between two people. I want that man to share the powerful bond with me. Even if we act out sex that's like dirt cheap sex, I want there to be that underlying hidden factor that strongly connects us even more. I don't want to have sex with just anybody anymore. The idea of having random sex doesn't appeal to me to these days. It does nothing for me. I would almost rather go through life chaste, becoming some born again virgin nun like character in the process, than go through the act of sex with some man I don't know on an intimate level.

I look around at my friends. So many of them are married, married with children, living with a guy, living with a guy with children, etc. etc. that I feel like I'm heading in a completely different direction than I'm supposed too. What made them choose Path A while I decided Path B was more suitable for myself? I thought about it the other day. My parents are constantly pressuring me to find some mate I can hook up with and depend on. I know that's why I feel like I'm so far behind the rest of the Kansas population when it comes to marriage and children and what the conservatives here consider "the right path." But, you know... if I never get married, I'll be okay with that. I'm content living alone where I have my own bed, my own bathroom.. I can decorate the place how I want to decorate it. I don't have anybody I have to answer too. If I want to paint my office red, I can paint it red. I don't have to compromise. If I want to adopt 10 kittens, I can. If I want to walk around the house naked, well.. damn it. I can.

Cory and I talked about this slightly last night. He asked me if I ever wondered if I'd never get married. I told him yes. I often randomly think that I'm not the marrying type. I often think that I'll never find somebody I can actually settle down and be happy with. I've been engaged before. I've been in love before. I've gone through one relationship after the next thinking each time, "He's the one." But in all those relationships, he wasn't the one. He wasn't the one because I could live without him, move on from him, and never think twice again about him. He wasn't the one because I couldn't see myself waking up 20 years from now loving him the same through better or worse and in sickness and in health. Would I still love him if he lost a finger? Would I care if he gained 200 lbs and couldn't move around as much? Would I be able to love him unconditionally with my entire being if, by some freak accident, he was burned badly and I had to stare at his grotesque face every single day? What if he had cancer? Would I love him enough to stick by his side? It makes me sound like a shallow person to think that I wouldn't do these things... but I do ask myself this.

What if the situation was reversed? What if I lost an eye, had a breast removed, or suffered from obesity? Would he love me through all of that? Could I let myself go completely, knowing that no matter what.. he would ALWAYS love me? One thing that holds me back from ever falling in love completely with a man is that I always think... ALWAYS think.. "how can he love me? I have mood swings. One minute I'm happy, the next minute I'm sad. I want to be comforted and taken care of. I want to nurture and take care of him. How can he love someone who still has a lot to learn from life, has a lot of growing up to do, and is in need of being pampered?" And then I think, "Shut-up, Jessica. There you go again with all this self-doubt crap. Of course you're worthy of being loved. You're a good person. You don't need some bloke to prove that to you. You should already know that." And it goes back and forth... one side of the net to the other.. kind of like a ping-pong game.

It's like.. some days I wake up and look in the mirror.. and I think, "You are so beautiful. Look at that hair! Knock 'em dead, girl." And other days I wake up, peer into the mirror and think, "Oh god. Who could ever love this face? Look at those cheeks. An old grandmother could pinch them. And those lips. Way too full... Angelina Jolie fans would hate you. And the teeth aren't straight enough... and the eyes are too small... and the nose too short and... blah blah blah blah blah. And just look at that body. Who could ever love a body like that?" And that's basically when I grab at my thighs or my hips or my stomach or underneath my arms and pinch the skin.. and say, "You should eat less. You're eating way too much. The only way to lose this flab is to keep your mouth shut. From this moment forward your diet will consist of water, gum, and one meal a day." And then.. by the end of the day when I've eaten two meals, had a can of pop and forgot to chew my gum.... I hate myself. I think, "failure! You idiot. You can't even starve yourself correctly. What kind of moron are you?" And I grab at the flab on my stomach and say to myself in the mirror, "no man could ever love you because of this. You'll be alone for the rest of your life because you can't avoid temptation." And then on the days I do what I feel is good... like on Monday all I had to eat was breakfast, and two scoops of vanilla ice-cream.. nothing else.. and I felt good because I hadn't gorged or binged on food.... my emotions were all over the place. But it doesn't do me any good because I still wake up the next morning, look into the mirror and think the same exact thoughts all over again. "You're the ugly child, the stupid one of the bunch. Failure. Failure. Failure. You work for your dad because you're not good enough to work for anybody else. You're an idiot. A lazy dumbfuck whose only real worth is taking up space." And I think... who could ever possibly love somebody who actually thinks these negative thoughts about themself? I know if I met a guy who was like me, I'd run in the other direction because I don't have the willpower, the strength, nor the need to be involved with somebody who needs positive reinforcement 2 hours a day, 5 days a week.

Well, I could ramble on and on. I really could... but I think I'll go ahead and end that here. I'll save the rest for another day.

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