Chillun

After work this morning, I immediately knocked out, waking up every once in a while to the beep of text messages on my phone. Five hours later, I realize I’m screwed because I can’t fall back asleep, which means work tonight will be horrendously sluggy. 

Anyway I’ve been on a blogging bonanza over the past couple of days. Will seriously got me hyped up about making moves and being creative (subjective, I know) and I’ve been writing and doodling and envisioning scenes in my head I would like to put to a visual mixtape.

So anyway, I took a little break from writing to go through random assortments of blogs on wordpress. What I love about going through random posts is trying to figure out the personalities of the writers. To think there is someone in Australia going through what I’m going through, feeling what I’m feeling, makes me hope that nothing is impossible no matter how improbable (or is it the other way around?). To see their life and what they’re doing, who they’re doing it with, where they’re going (or not going), and what they’re thinking helps me get out of this 10×12 space and explore the world. 

So on the few that I’ve found that I really like, I’ve left comments saying hello (I wish I knew proper blog etiquette). Most of the sites I commented on were of those similar to my situation. You know, young and single and “artistic.” Those looking for their identity and their future. Those looking for definition in their life. Those looking for a job.

Then I came across a few blogs from mothers talking about their kids. I wish I could relate. I really do. But, being a barren desert myself, it’s a little hard. I relish knowing that I’ll be one of those moms one day, though. When I’ve had enough of myself and my self-important musings, I’ll know I’ll still have more to write about because I’ll have kids (let’s keep on praying) and I’ll gladly document their lives and their adventures.

But for now — it’s all about me. Back to self-importance and promotion and the blogs of the single and willing to rant/rave/react. Woozah!

October to July

DId I mention my iMac crashed on me? It did.

Did I mention I didn’t have anything backed up? I didn’t (epic fail!).

Did I mention I’m sad? I really am.

I lost ALL my pictures, from October to June. I guesstimate about 3000+ photographs. And we know how much I love my photographs. They weren’t the best, but they were mine. I love taking them with my little point-and-shoot Canon. And we all know if I had the money, I’d get a nicer model (well, after I get that Canon XL1 HD, of course). But the car payments* come first. 

Seriously. Those were some memories I would have liked to be able to look back on and go “HA! Awkward turtle!” or “That was him?!” or “I don’t remember that night at all…” or “That was my sister when she was only 13!” or “Kick ass sunset. Kick ass friends.”

Well — it’s time to make new memories, right? Care to join?

A few leftovers, thanks to Picasa:

Grilling some Steak-Yums on Katie’s Balcony

 

My harsh-ass gingerbread man & snowman

 

First sunrise of 2008

 

 

A free day at the park with family

 

My last day in DC visiting KatJoe for the Cherry Blossom Festival

Friends, if you have pictures of our memories, share?

*Damned car accident.

November 26

I am a romantic at heart.

“I’m an intelligent, talented, caring, funny person. BUT! I’m a romantic. So beware.”

I feel terrible, holding that as a caveat to who I really am.

Why do I feel like people must proceed with caution when I announce that? Why like me in spite of my romantic notions? Why can’t something like that be accepted as coming with this oddly-packaged deal? Oh well. It’s the truth.

Warning: I’m a romantic, idealistic, saccharine, cornball of a girl. Take it or leave it.

With that said, I feel like over the past few years, I’ve become a whole lot more realistic in my beliefs regarding the most basic of idealistic and romantic notions: soul mates. Just recently, I was asked about my thoughts on the matter. Do I believe in them? Is there really one person out there perfect for you and me? Do I believe in fate? Destiny? Serendipity? Do I honestly believe that I will meet the one person destined to complete and complement my life?

A few years ago, I would have said, yes, I believe in this word; this ideal. I believe in love at first sight. I believe in true love and perfection. I believed that there was a right combination of fate and destiny that leads to an idealistic happenstance. Happy endings are believable and everyone who deserves it gets it.

Now I’m more realistic. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still a romantic. I still believe in love and idealism and words that roll off the tongue like serendipity and kismet, but I’ve stopped applying that to my everyday life. Dennis wasn’t my soul mate. Jeddie wasn’t either. Neither of them even came close. Most of the time I marveled at what guys like them found appealing about a girl like me. Or, even funnier, what I found great in them. But I was happy with the kind of relationship I had built with them. There was nothing perfect about it, but I was content. I thought I could use the word on Mike. But maybe that was a mix of high school “love” combined with the excitement of my first-ever-real-relationship. Then you realize those things don’t last, and when they escape the bubble you’ve built for them, you’re pretty much left with nothing but a new outlook on how the next one should go.

So, soul mates. When I first thought about it, I said yes, I believe in them. Yes, I think there is someone out there for everyone; a perfect someone, in every sense of the word. But that doesn’t mean you’ll ever meet them. There are almost seven billion people in the world. What are the chances of running into the one person out there who is supposedly your true love? That also doesn’t mean that if you do manage to come across them, you’ll be meant to be together forever. That doesn’t mean it’ll be happy butterflies and silver-lining clouds on the way to the altar. You could meet him or her, decide that they are the one you are meant to be with, but, because of circumstances beyond your control, it just doesn’t work out. Maybe romantically, it’s just not meant to be.

Then I realized how depressing all that was. All of this, coming from me, the eternal optimist. It certainly wasn’t helping the person I was having a conversation with. I’m supposed to be the rock of romance. I’m supposed to be the ultimate girly-girl’s girl who believes in all things good and true and lovely. And here I am, telling her that no, I don’t believe that she’ll ever meet her real soul mate. That people who use that word are idealists who have nothing better to do than come up with dream-like sequences of fairy tale endings.

So I thought about it some more and realized that, maybe, your soul mate is who you want your soul mate to be. It’s not the best answer to an ever-so-abstract question, and I’m sure you didn’t need me to explain this answer you probably already knew, but that’s the kind of thinking I’m beginning to stand behind. I don’t think you should use that word unless you’re at the end of your life and you realize that the one person who’s always been there, the one person who’s always loved you – romantically or otherwise – is still there, holding your hand, making you laugh, making you feel at ease with whatever you’re going through – and you’re happy with that.

Maybe my opinion will change when I meet someone I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without. The thing is, I thought that was Mike. But obviously, I’m not spending my life with him. Then, I thought it was Dennis. And now he’s gone too. I don’t plan on throwing out that word every time I meet a potential boyfriend, that would just devalue it and the romanticism that follows. So I’ve thought about my life and the people in it, and I think I figured out something.

I think I’ve already met my soul mate. We never materialized a romantic relationship; we’ve always been friends, and we’ll always be friends. He’s been in and out of my life for long spans of time, and I’m not even sure we’ll always keep in touch. But I’ve always seen him as a good constant in my life, even if he doesn’t feel the same about me. Maybe it’s easier that way for me, thinking my soul mate is the one man on earth I can’t be with. All the expectations of finding someone to call that becomes nonexistent. He fulfills everything I want in good conversation and experiences. I’d let him talk all day if he wanted to (which he never does – he’s the silent type). It’s easier believing this than finding someone new and having all the ideals I hold up to him be dashed to the ground. But that’s just me.

So for now, I believe my own explanation. I stand firmly behind these sets of words I’ve put together. It helps me sleep at night, knowing I’ve answered one out of a million abstract questions floating in the air. Thoughts, anyone?

-JB

*I’m not sure that I ended up where I wanted to end up in this blog. I like the level-headedness of the beginning, but the ending seems fluffy and unsure. But that’s just how I am. I start out strong and end on a weak note. I guess that description applies to all things me. I guess you do learn something new everyday.

172 left

 

It’s July already. Can you believe it? And halfway through July at that. This is how you know I’m a procrastinator at heart: I was supposed to embellish upon this thought in June — the halfway mark of the year. It’s my mid-year examination of my life. Let’s see what I come up with.

So — July. Another five months and we’ll have a new number at the end of 200 and I’ll have exactly a year left until I’m allowed to say I’m going to find a new job. In fact — two years from now, I should already be somewhere else. I should be making moves (somewhere new), making movies (hopefully), or at least making money (the real kind). 

But for the next five months, I concentrate on me. I concentrate on new goals, new destinations, new plans.

In September (24-28?), I’d like to take a trip to California. I keep hollering that I want to move there and explore the job scene there, but I haven’t even been there yet. Am I a chillaxable bay person? Or the dreaded Los Angelian? I think because I only get four days to explore — I can only do one part of the state. I’m thinking LA. It’s where I ultimately need to be at some point in my career, so I might as well start making some connections. I best plan this soon: right now I can find a cheap ass ticket for less than 300 dollars roundtrip. We’ll see how it looks like in a month.

In October (23-26) — I want to go to New York. Will’s going to be there. So will a lot of other people I know. I think it’s been at least two or three years since I’ve visited. I just want a chill trip. I want to explore the city, I want to be a tourist, I want to get a shot at the nightlife, I want to meet interesting people with interesting things to say. I think I’ll try to make it as *Blueberrian as possible.

In December (15-21), it’s Spain for me. Right now that trip is hovering in the indistinguishable fog. I can’t quite see what’s going to happen yet, but I’m hoping it’ll be awesome-and-a-half. Kris will be there finishing up his studies and it’ll be my first time to really be out of the country and explore something completely new. Plus, I need to start boning up on my Spanish. 

Sometime between now and then, I want to finish writing something. My screenplay. My script. Hell, even a short story would suffice. I haven’t done anything, been a part of anything in so long. I haven’t had the drive to accomplish anything. Not that I’m proud of this day-in-day-out humdrum monotony, but it’s true: you get used to your routine. There are no grades driving me to do something better, no teacher’s constant critique. It’s just me in my life right now. And apparently, I’m content to be mediocre.

I’m trying. I promise I am. Sometimes I sit down in front of my laptop with no distractions, no music, no tv, no anything. I open the program, start typing character names and descriptions of places, then I stop. Nothing comes after that. No witty dialogue, engaging characters, no avid descriptions of places and colors and sounds and ambiance. So I turn it off and turn on my Mac and write a blog about how much I can’t write when I force myself to.

Also (and this is me being completely positive and hopeful), I’d like to pick up my video camera and film something. Anything. After I lost all my videos/pictures/music, etc when my computer crashed, I’m in need of some visual stimulation. But I guarantee three months from now I’ll write another blog about how I don’t have any ideas, don’t have anything worth wasting a tape on.

Wow. The apathy and lack of creative ingenuity in me is appalling. But one day, hopefully I’ll be abashed at my outlook on my current social, professional, and mental status, and then I’ll forreal get a move on. Maybe the trips will help. Stir up some inner need to succeed, even if it’s just for me. Maybe.

*My Blueberry Nights