9:33 AM - Tuesday, Oct. 26, 2004
I take two for my family....
1. What is your name? Jessica
2. How old are you right now? 27
3. What do you do for a living? I'm a peon for a medium sized oil company.
4. What do you want to be doing with your life? I wanna rock! Just kidding. Living it more, experiencing more, pushing the limits of my existence.
5. Where do you see yourself in ten years? Let's see. In ten years I'll be 37. Hopefully I'll be married with a family by that time, and perhaps settled into a community safe enough to raise my future children in.
6. Close your eyes. Where do you see yourself now? Married with children living in middle class America.
7. Who is the most important person in your life at this exact moment? Cory.
8. Why? Because he's a very significant part of my life. I talk to him the most out of anyone anywhere. He's one of my best friends. We've come to a point in our relationship where I feel he knows me better than anybody. He's one of my soulmates. He helps to complete me.
9. Describe yourself as if you were telling someone else all about you. (But don't do it in the third person. That's just wacked.) I love sleeping in, especially on days when its raining or there's snow covering the ground. I love the softness of blankets, how my head hits a feather pillow after I've plumped it up, and the feel of satin sheets or nightgowns against my skin.
I love getting caught up in the moment when attending a sports game, becoming one with the crowd as they cheer their team on to victory... or when they attempt to accept defeat. I love chewing on soft pretzels, knocking the extra salt off with my fingers before dipping it into the melted cheddar cheese while my dad sits beside me spitting sunflower seeds onto the ground below him or breaking apart peanuts... the mess he leaves behind on the ground. and if it's cold out, being huddled under layers of clothing stomping my feet to keep warm while my breath escapes in a fog from between my lips... the moment when I fight the crowd to buy a cup of hot chocolate that doesn't even taste that good but it warms the body with its heat...
I love shopping for other people anonymously, imagining the expression on their faces when they receive something they've always wanted but couldn't afford to buy... a parent whose prayers have been answered because they couldn't give a child the one thing they wanted for Christmas. I love shopping for myself, too. I like to go in and not look at the price tags, but be picky about what I choose to spend my money on. "Will I really wear this? Do I really need this?" Most of the time the answer is no, and I've left the store with nothing. Sometimes I splurge, though, especially when it comes to things that are the colors pink and red. I love red. I love pink.
I'm anal about being organized. When it comes to my own stuff, I want to be able to find it in its place. I like things put away and out of sight so that I have room to breathe and work... and I don't feel confined by limited space. I love to clean my own territory, keeping it as neat as possible with as little dirt as possible. I can't stand being around pack rats who horde so much stuff that you can't see the top of the desk or most of the floor... and you fear there might be bugs or mice hidden in the confines of the areas they can't see nor reach to clean.
I love to write. I love the mental stimulation I receive from becoming lost in thought to the point that before I know it hours have flown by. Writing helps me gather together my thoughts, relieve my pent-up emotions, and express myself in ways I can't seem to when speaking outloud. I love to rhyme, the way words sound when they flow together in a rythmic piece, and being able to look back at the things I've written before and wonder to myself, "did I really write that? Was I able to write something that good?"
I'm a reader. I'm a dreamer. I'm creative to a fault. I suffer from compulsive obsessiveness towards the things that cause me the most anxiety. I'm a conundrum, a complete catch-22. I don't understand myself completely. I probably never will. I just accept myself for who I am, hoping that whatever comes my way is more than just fate or destiny but perhaps a little bit of my own doing based on what I want to achieve during this lifetime. I fear too much and let that fear control me. And I hope one day to find somebody to share my life with who helps push me to better myself and get past that fear.
I'll end it there. I started writing a novel again. Ack!
I wrote this last night about Cory. Sometimes I think that anyone could write a poem. All they have to do is jot down their thoughts and let them flow. Sometimes I think that when I write about people I care for, I don't write deep enough. I feel I could do better, that they deserve better. When I wrote this, however, I was watching TV and dazing off, thinking of him and wondering what he was doing. These were just the thoughts that filled my mind at the moment.
I think of you
at random during the day...
when I hear a funny joke,
or watch a movie late at night;
when I'm curling up in bed
to go to sleep.
I think of you,
how you would feel...
lying next to me in bed,
snuggled against me on the couch,
whispering words against my skin.
I think of...
your laughter,
your voice,
your masculinity,
your strength,
but mostly your arms
wrapped around me
holding me into you.
That's all folks....
