LiveJournal, my old nemesis, we meet again!

I have not written in a while. Two slaps on the wrist for me. It's not as if I didn't have time during break. I had enough time to buy close to a dozen postcards, fill them out, and send them. Many seem to have since gotten lost. I wonder what happened to them. I know Goo and Betsy received them. Well, who else in the world matters but Goo and Betsy, anyway, right?So many people felt the need to complain today, that I jumped right on the bandwagon. Whenever someone said that they hurt, in any place on their body, I was honestly able to agree, and launch into detail. Whenever anyone said they were tired, I agreed, and proceded to vent. Whenever anyone said that they were confused by the human race, I, again, was able to empathize, and complete the rant with my own personal touch of frustration. I have some sort of gift. It's a highly marketable skill.I almost fell off the platform during rehearsal on multiple occassions. Given the lack of supports on that platform, it is a death trap: a law suit just waiting to happen. Maybe Robin will take pity on me while I'm getting stitched up at the hospital, and not require me to do nearly as much work for Social and Political Theater. It's a decent amount for a class, but considering that she knows I'm there every night late for the musical, she's insane. Purebred insanity!I had a long talk with myself last night. Yes, did I mention that I'm crazy? I sort out so many problems talking to myself. I know the motives behind so many of my flaws (and believe me, there are a LOT), and I need to take it to the next level: actually remedying the situations. I wish I had more strength. People tell me I'm strong, but what of it. So I can take pain with a good dose of cynicism and a smile. Great. What am I learning?You can only rely on people to be themselves, whatever is in their nature.Lately, I've been pondering more about suing the school system. My old public school, that is. I wish I had more solid proof, because as of right now, it's my word against theirs. I didn't document anything. I wish I did. I want to take an action, to tell them that what happened to me was horrible, and I don't want it to happen to anyone else. The major obstacle is that I'm not quite sure what happened. That made sense. I'm still trying to distinguish from reality... and... well, I couldn't have made it up, but I managed to convince myself a long time ago that I did. They told me I did. Every day it haunts me. I try and go to sleep, and I see them circling around me, and it feels like knives are sinking in. I'd like to think of myself as a happy person, as a whole, but then there are times that I want to scream. I want to scream and wipe away their burning spit, and their sharp kicks, and their blunt fists, and their caustic words, and heal my bruises and broken bones, and it all swirls together.... and I want to scream so that the whole world can hear me. "Come on, guys... she's obviously making it up." Why would they walk out on me? Instead, I smile. I smile because I didn't succumb, because I made it out alive. So I've proved to myself that I can handle it, but I have not influenced anyone else. My plight has not caused any inspiration. It is silent, fallen on deaf ears. I want to bury the pain forever, but there's something inside me that won't let me dig the grave. Something keeps it at the surface.She could have helped me find out the root of this "something."I miss her so much. She still had so much she could have taught me. Yes, well, while I'm ranting about public school, I might as well talk about my mother, again. I watched the HBO broadcast of "W;t" last week, about a woman with terminal stage 4 ovarian cancer. I can't remember the last time I cried through a movie. It was all real, and then it came so fast. Cease treatment. Wheelchair. Hospice. Morphine. DNR.She held me so tight that evening, and gently kissed me, thereby consuming all of the energy she had left. I never wanted to leave.My mind is brimming full of vivid images, without the words to articulate them.I sat in my room last night, for hours, and played bad new age music. I'm not a fan, but it was something we played while my mother was in a coma. She used to listen to piano solos, that sort of thing. My aunt suggested that we play my mother some music while she was in a coma, so we turned on the stereo... and Faur?'s Requium played. Watching someone die is, to say the least, painful enough, without the need for requiums, so we switched over to some optimstic "follow the sacred path" new age piano solos. Some of it is actually beautiful. Perhaps I just think that because it was hers.I have a thousand thoughts all jumbled in my head, and no medium for which to extract them.I want to help people, to help them overcome adversity. Perhaps that seems overly ambitious, or that I have no real experience, but I want to be able to do what my mother did. To have the dicipline and dedication to first work on her own imperfections, and then help others. Perhaps that is why I hang out with small children so often (my kids!). They are young and impressionable, and I'm able to help them grow into wonderful people. My three-year-olds don't have a great deal of adversity to deal with, but perhaps I can branch out into other groups. Adversity... that's going to be my big college campaign: while the rest of your three-sport senior class presidents were busy perfecting their 3-minute mile, I was overcoming adversity. I stuck with my education through horrible times, so bad that I was faced with no other option but to leave, through illness, of my own and of my mother's, and losing my best friend and hero... it's a movie-of-the-week sort of story - it starts out with lush benefits and the fanastic life of the middle and upper-middle class, falling apart on one day. Two, actually. I can pinpoint the dates: 15 October, 1997, and 5 February, 1998. The 15th of October wasn't too terrible, but it certainly changed my life, and the 5th in an even more negative way, or positive, as the case may be. I could have suffered through years of indifference and impartiality, but instead, through the "good fortune" of abuse, I was granted leave to go to a better place, where I for the first time since 3rd grade found friends who truly cared about me, and who stuck by me. It's a warring decision, whether all the pain and permanent scarring was worth it, but I think, ultimately, it was.I was busy learning about life.Now, I have to convince myself that it's the college's loss when they reject me. "Yeah, you and your adversity. Who cares about what you struggled with, when I can have the 4.0 student from New York with a huge list of credentials." It's much easier to achieve when you don't have such monumental obstacles in your way, but lots I can do about it now. It's not as if I have an inner-city minority kid story. Those sorts of stories they accept - mine is much more along the vein of "poor little rich girl." Oy.Tomorrow, I am going to put aside my masks, and be myself. It was something I was commended for at public school -- being myself. It's something that I still do, but too often, I hide behind a facade of cynicism. I AM NOT AFRAID TO LIVE. I AM NOT AFRAID TO DIE. So, then, what am I afraid of?~JennSo much for coherency. Another one of my infamous LiveNovel rants. Well, tomorrow is a new day!

The state of being vapid.

I have just completed the first leg of a vicious cycle. I went from bitter (mainly due to having to deal with short-tempered people), to extremely emotional [crying my entire commute home], to vapid. I'm currently in the vapid state. I can't hear a thing, thanks to my most blessed ear infection, and I'm trying to think of all the things Rachel Hirsch (who told me that she may be my Capstone advisor) would do to me tomorrow should I not be in C-block for my presentation. It all depends on when I'm able to book my doctor's appointment. I'm going to catch this thing early. Last time I waited until a fever of 102, causing me to miss a day of school. [I was craftily able to convince my father to let me attend school with a temp. of 100?. See what I go through just to be with you people? And you complain about the most mundane things. The world is not ending!]So I'm vapid. Vapid as a public school kid. It's rather disconcerting, actually. I'm trying to think of something amusing to say, but nothing comes to mind. I miss my little brother, who is away on a school trip in DC at the moment. I went in to say goodnight to him, and his bed was empty... the sight of empty beds scare me. I'm quite serious. Startling memories.I finished up all of my prints for photo today. I realized that all but one of my photos have children in them. When I grow up, I want to be four-years-old. I met a four-year-old at Bertucci's this evening. He came up to me, clutching a sacred fist-full of dough in one hand, telling me about how soft it was, and how fun it was to play with. His disillusioned mother than stole him away, muttering, "don't talk to those girls," adding a resentful "He's just four-years-old!" to me. He wasn't bothering me, he was adorable.And I'm vapid.Goo, this isn't working.~Jenn

Clearly, some philosophies are not for all people.

SALLY:Someone once said that we should live each day as if it is the last day of our life.LUCY:Ahhh! This is the last day! I only have twenty-four hours left! Help me! Help me! This is the last day! Ahhhhhh!SALLY:Clearly, some philosophies are not for all people.AND THAT'S MY NEW PHILOSOPHY!I love "...Charlie Brown," and that quote seemed particularly appropriate today. People are forecasting armageddon.Provided that the world does not end by Thursday evening, Katy, Olivia and I plan to attend the gala opening of the Winchester High School's production of "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," a murder mystery musical the high school never should have thought about attempting. Ever. At the summation of Act II, the audience votes for which ending they want. We're going to find out which ending they haven't rehearsed thoroughly, and create a campaign to vote for that ending. We are going to wreck havoc! Anyone else care to join in the mischief?I love four-day weekends. I love five-day weekends even more. Let's all hope that Greg has some sense left in him -- our collective fate is in his hands.Olivia and I are excessively using the Altavista Translation function. We are translating from English to German, from German to French, and from French to English. I wrote "Olivia is a silly bug," and it came out "Is Olivia an error of program stupid?" Intersting -- particularly since the original input was not a quesition.I'm hosting a "Jekyll & Hyde Maddess" party on the 10th. Conveniently, during Dance Concert. "Jekyll & Hyde" (starring David Hasselhoff) is premiering on PPV, and it's something that is so horrificly bad, you can't watch on your own, you'd be too traumatized. I now have full evening plans for this week -- backups in case the world does not end. I feel so popular and loved.And that's my new philosophy!~Jenn

Two Midnights Gone

I slept until 2:15 this afternoon -- 14 or 15 glorious hours of sleep. I slept right past 2pm, when Goo was supposed to come over. The plans were swiftly cancelled, due to an irresponsible water heater repair man. Do those sorts of blue-collar workers have an official job title, or just "Water Heater Repair Man." I'd want to be in the vein of "Home Appliance Engineer." Is a water heater ever classified as an appliance? I asked my father, and we were unable to arrive at a definite answer.Goo - my father would love to meet "the girl behind the cheese fondue." He is determined that it is destiny that you can never come over when he's home. (He'll be out at a hockey game tomorrow -- we'll talk more later)I am exceedingly happy to have a three-day weekend. For one thing, it allowed me to get a decent amount of sleep. When I got home last night, I could barely walk, it hurt so much. First thing that happens when I walk in the door: my father walks up to me, and says, "JENN! Just the person I was looking for! I have about twenty presents for you to wrap, if you'd like to come upstairs." Up? Stairs? Just try.I wrapped the presents. I'm such a sucker.We hired Danielle, and she has accepted. She starts Monday! Here's hoping this works out better than the Joanne mess. I do like Danielle more than I did Joanne -- no original reservations, such as an annoying laugh and overbearing presence. I did make a fool of myself on the phone today. I had awoked approximately 30 seconds earlier, and picked up the phone without checking the caller ID, assuming it would be Goo. I just started talking... Danielle then asked, "May I please speak with Jim?" I thought she said *Jenn*, so I proceded to act even more foolishly. Finally I caught on that this was not Goo, in fact, and handed the phone over to my Dad. I apologized, and she just laughed, saying that she has done the same thing so many times. She's not much older than I am. It's the same difference, in age, between me and Danielle that lies between me and my sister. I think it's going to work out well.Speaking of my sister, I have to pick her up in 3 minutes. It's her birthday today, so I promised. I would have done it anyway, but it was impossible to resist her pouting face, with her wide eyes. I have a crafty little sister. I hate self-imposed censorship. That comment was not random, either.I saw a license plate that said "DIVAS" yesterday. I was estatic. I called my friend Beth, my fellow Diva, while I was wrapping gifts for my sister. Beth and I created our own musical: "DIVAS, the Musical." It's going to be a hit. I'll dig up the 31 page document describing the megamusical, entitled "The Diva Chronicles." I don't think I've ever laughed more hysterically.Tomorrow, at work day, I have to teach Anna (the girl that I used to refer to as my understudy) the musical score of "Once Upon a Mattress." Can this girl not read music properly? Every single year, I get the E role. I have to sing an e throughout the entire show. E, E, E, E, E. Last year, my E was an octave lower, but an E nonetheless. Maybe next year I'll get a D role, although my favorite note to sing is an A or a B flat.I can't think of what else to write -- I'm sure it will strike me while I'm in the car. I get the best ideas whilest driving, and promptly forget them upon shifting into park. I hate that. Well, my sister is probably waiting for me at this point.~Jenn

Another Sunday In The Park With George

I got home at 10:45pm -- and my father didn't care. He apparantly does not remember that my rehearsal got out at 8pm, nor did he question what I was doing between the hours of 8pm and 10:25pm. I'm glad I didn't prepare an elaborate excuse, it's always such a shame to concoct one, and never use it.After rehearsal, I was on the verge of another crash, and in much need of a break. All that being chased around by Bascom was enough to make anyone exhausted. Just ask Amalia, who complained freely. Out of frustration, I ended up explaining that I have CFIDS to her -- explain may have a slightly more generous connotation. I wasn't particularly nice. At any rate, this got *zero* reaction from Amalia, but sympathetic eyebrow raises from Bascom. Life is all about reactions.As I was walking back to my car, I saw Spencer sitting in the French room. As I hadn't spoken to him in quite a while, I decided to knock on the door and say hello. "Hello" morphed into two and a half hour conversation. Funny how times flies, not to mention that he was supposed to be back in his dorm by 10. I can barely remember what we talked about now. It wasn't smalltalk, but it wasn't anything deeply intellectual, either. We kvetched about Lyuda (whom I dislike greatly), and discussed the amusement factor behind whale-watching tourists in Newburyport. Spencer does not have the "typical" Freshman attitude (epitomized by, say, Lyuda). I find it amazingly refreshing to be around Freshman that don't make me cringe.I declared war on Toby this morning, although submitted my message proclaiming surrender this afternoon. It was a bloodless, shortlived war, that lacked even wit. Rachel Hirsch would flunk me for less than that [in Civil War]. Well, 'twas amusing while it lasted.I plan on raiding my brother's room tomorrow morning, to find a hat. I wore Morgan's hat throughout rehearsal this evening, and was reminded of how much I enjoy wearing hats. I used to wear hats constantly -- I had the worst hat-hair imaginable, not quite as extreme as my sister's. Me thinks one of his Bruins hats shall suffice.Dinner at Bertucci's was... interesting. Jacquie, Amy, Joel, Morgan, Evan, and I attended the gala event. I drove Evan solo the way there, a rather awkward venture, so I claimed Amy, Joel, and Morgan for the ride back. The majority of our dinner conversation shifted toward the gutter-whore nature of Amy. Honestly, Amy, nobody expects it within you, it comes as such a shock. I'll see if I can recover that letter you wrote me about David Hyson.Tomorrow feels like the last day of the mod. I wish! Two and a half more weeks to go, and I have much work to complete. I have a presentation in Latin American History tomorrow, etc., etc., etc. Greta and I have a creative plan. We are attempting to show up Lexy, but crazy rehearsal schedules make it difficult. She had to rehearse Pocket Players all through lunch, and I had rehearsal for "Once Upon a Mattress" all afternoon and evening. Convenient, really. Still, we came up with a decent battle plan. Greta talks! It is a miracle!I also have many adventurous plans for the weekend. Well, that's a slight exaggeration. I have a singular adventuruous plan for the weekend. I'm thinking about.. maybe... sleeping. I might leave the house, too. Friday is Caroline's birthday - she's hitting double digits. My, they grow up so quickly.I'm not making sense anymore. I took some pills to try and "make things better," but that always ends up in disaster. *sigh* Maybe tomorrow things will be better.~Jenn

High Beams and Jail Terms

I was inaugurated into the world of driving today. I had just got off Route 2, near Wilson's farms, when a car in the opposite direction flashed their high beams. At first I was slightly confused -- it had been a long day, and my vision was blurry, anyway, thanks to another fun CFIDS crash over the weekend. Of course, I then realized that it was the secret code for POLICE AHEAD. Very secret, indeed. I was going the speed limit, but surely it wouldn't hurt to slow down a few mph. Lo and behold, there was a policeman just around the bend. What a wonderful code. Yes, I've put thousands of miles on my car, and nobody has ever done that for me. Needless to say, I was a little too thrilled to return the favor after passing the policeman. Is it not twisted that I'm still thrilled?My father completed his stint as Jury foreman today, and I was able to hear all about the court case. I had hoped it would be more interesting. Me and my high expectations.Katy and I had an impromptu dinner at Bertucci's. She had to stay at school for SAT prep, and I didn't feel up to driving home quite yet. So what do I do? I endanger not only my own life by going to Bertucci's, but also Katy's -- not, however, before we left another cryptic message. Update: I have been apprehended, revealed my accomplices, and legal proceedings shall be performed herein. I can only hope that my father will receive the opportunity to reprise his role as moral and just foreman. I shall strike again... ~JennP.S. Morgan, look how short these entries have been!

Practically Perfect in Every Way

We just finished up two nanny interviews. It's so draining, emotionally, physically. The two potential nannies today were nice. Quite the adjective, eh? What I really want is a Mary Poppins. Who wouldn't love to have Julie Andrews as their nanny? I've always had an affection for singing nannies who are practically perfect in every way. "If you want this choice position, have a cheering disposition..."Ali, the first of the nannies in question (and is it just me, or does the plural "nannies" look strange?), was pleasant, although reminded me of a Winchesteresque cheerleader. She wore Abecrombie. Bad sign. My father had not prepped questions for the interview, so for the majority of the time, the five of us sat there in silence. She left earlier than planned, and we said that we'll call her.Susan, the second prospective nanny, I liked quite a bit more. She brought along her two children, Sarah (age 10) and Stephen (age 12). We had a delightful conversation (yes, you read that correctly -- DELIGHTFUL!), about things ranging from homeschooling to how everyone in her family is born on the same day as the presidents on Mount Rushmore. It would have been a little complicated orchestrating the schedule, and also having the two kids "work" for us, too. I liked Danielle better, but I still feel slight remorse for not hiring those kids. Can you imagine, at age 10, having to go to job interviews, and being rejected? Great way to build self-esteem.So, it looks like Danielle shall be our new nanny shortly -- not Mary Poppins, to my chagrin.I have been updating this darn livejournal too frequently. I need to stop.~Jenn

Confessions

When I "grow up," I want to be a clerk in a court. It's such a cushy job. My father was telling me about his jury duty over dinner, despite certain legalities stating otherwise, and I've decided I want to be a clerk, as long as I am not required to attend law school. If I do ever decide to attend law school, I'll then become a teacher, to continue the Michael O'Donnell phenomenon. (I don't care if Julius says his kid is ugly)When I was four, I wanted to be an exercise instructor. We have many home videos of me jazzercising. It was cute, okay? I was four, and I essentially lived on a trampoline. I also performed Channukah shows, with a full score. "OOOOOOOOOOOH, the Macabees marched, and they marched, and they marched...." Not to mention my occassional appearances as a "whirling dervish." Nobody seems to appreciate the true genius behind these home movies.I learned to play an Eminem song on the piano. I don't listen to rap. I don't like Eminem. I hate Eminem. Goo played me the song from her mix tape in the car the other day, and the chorus has been haunting me since. So I sat down to the piano, and now I can play it -- incredibly simple chord progression. G#m, E, F#, B/F#. There, now everyone can play it. I'm so ashamed.I like Emily better than I like Alice. (theater inside joke -- that's Emily Skinner and Alice Ripley)My Camry does not have a "-mobile" name. It's current name is Gavroche, so called because it's small, and Gavroche is a tough little guy. It was inevitable that my car would be named after a character from a musical. What was I supposed to name it, the Javertmobile? Or how about the Velma Kelly-mobile, or the Yonahmobile, or the Iola Stover-mobile. People from musicals have strange names.I listened to "Eating Raoul" today, during my morning commute. I almost swerved off the road from laughter. WHY DOES THAT SHOW EXIST?I don't like cheese fondue. Guilty as charged.I wrote down a whole list of confessions during C-block today, but managed to loose them. It's a shame, because they were far more amusing than the ones above. Such is life. If I find them tomorrow, by some stroke of luck, I shall type them up.~Jenn

Ghiradelli

I was supposed to make banana bread this evening, but it didn't happen. Banana bread is one of the few foods I am able to make. Such a gourmet chef am I! I'm capable of: cookies, brownies, cakes from a mix, muffins, and the quintessential banana bread [okay, it's also from a mix]. However, my plans altered slightly to accomodate my brother's desire for brownies. Ghiradelli, no less. My father and brother have already attacked the brownies, so I set aside a large portion for their little excursion to CSW tomorrow. Katy has reserved several. I'll probably end up giving them to my Children's Garden kids. I'm not obsessed, I swear! I love those kids. It was Harrison's birthday last week, and I didn't have the opportunity to do anything for the kids yet, because it was public school vacation week. I have a print of a photo that I did on Friday that I need to give them, too -- of Harrison, Liam, and George at the cabin by the field. They are wonderful kids.My brother and I had an adventure taking photographs this afternoon. I needed to complete two rolls of film for class tomorrow: the first roll had to be focused on form and light, and the second roll had the themes of stranges, friends, chaos, authority, and UGLY DEVILS. We walked into CVS to buy a New York Times (which they apparently don't carry, the Boston elitists), and to look for some prime strangers to photograph. I had not walked any farther than the first aisle when we crossed paths with Rich. I nearly snapped a picture of him for the UGLY DEVIL category (take note of all caps), but decided against it. I feel uncomfortable photographing strangers, for the voyeuristic aspect of it -- even more so do I feel uncomfortable photographing my friend's ex-boyfriends who frighten me. I grabbed my brother by the collar, and we quickly ducked out of the store. Close call.I was photographing cars in the parking lot of Barnes & Noble (benign as they come), when a guy in a hooded black sweatshirt walked by, and said, "JEEZ!" He then darted away, and I never caught a glimpse of his face, however, I seriously contemplated using *him* as my UGLY DEVIL, although I don't breed them as ugly or as devlish as Rich.I need some strawberries desperately. Perhaps I'll host another fondue fiesta with Goo and Julia. Those strawberries were *good*.My father inconspicuously left a Dave Barry calendar anecdote at the side of my keyboard, with a little note attatched: "this reminded me of your stories about that kid from your school." See if you can pick out who he means by reading it.In TV commercials, sport utility vehicles are shown splashing through rivers, charing up rocky mountainsides, swinging on vines, diving off cliffs, racing through the surf, and fighting giant sharks hundreds of feet beneath the ocean surface. But nobody ever drives on an actual road. In fact, the interstate highways in Sport Utility Vehicle Commercial World, having been abandoned by humans, are teeming with deer, squirrels, birds, and other wildlife species that have fled from the forest to avoid being run over by nature-seekers in multi-ton vehicles barreling through the underbrush at fifty miles per hour.I will first state that I can't believe Dave Barry gets paid good money to say crazy things like that. Here are your clues as to the student in question: SUV, diving off cliffs, and underbrush at fifty miles per hour. ANSWER: Drew. My father always appreciates a good "look at how stupid Drew is" story. There are so many."Does anyone still wear a hat? I'll drink to that."~Jenn

Reconsideration

I reread my last journal entry, which was peculiar. I could not understand it at all. I remember all of the emotions, but the words didn't seem to match up. They were separate entities. At least I had a restful sleep last night.I need to stop using the adverb "very." It has been bothering me greatly. In 3rd grade, I learned that the word "very" is weak, and should only be used in rare circumstances. From grades 3 - 10, I abided by this unwritten rule, and now, all of a sudden, every other word I say is "very." Oy.This is going to be MY SHORTEST LIVEJOURNAL ENTRY EVER, because I have lots of work due tomorrow. This is a major accomplishment.~Jenn

Constantine, Constantine, Constantine!

Today was such a strange today. I tossed and turned in my sleep all night, from the nightmares. I awoke feeling as if my mother had died all over again. My emotions were on edge all day.I had to be at school for workday at the ungodly hour of 9am. Addam and I made the "owl" tapestry for the musical, although Addam's owl resembles a lemur more than it does an avian. We cautioned Vanessa as to our lack of artistic ability, but she didn't listen. The work for the tapestry was horribly tedious. Charcoal, flog, redo the charcoal, flog again, more charcoal, flog, flog, flog, charcoal...After lunch, for some reason or another, I was feeling more vulnerable. Gwenn pulled me over, for what I thought was to talk more about costumes. She wanted to express her sympathies for the death of my mother. I smiled as she went on to say that I could talk to her if I ever needed to. So many people have offered their shoulder, but I don't feel comfortable enough to talk to most of them.Something pushed me over the edge after that. I was occupied painting the boarder around the tapestry, and suddenly water surged in my eyes, and I couldn't see. I cried in the bathroom for half an hour, my entire face enshrouded in tears. I kept telling myself, "I'm stronger than this," despite the fact that I know strength does not mean the absence of emotion. Strength can come through tears. Then why did I feel so weak? I still miss her so much. I want to talk about her - not a planned conversation, I want to be able to talk freely about her, to see the slightest bit of interest in the other person's eyes, so that guilt does not eat away at me. It's more of an issue with kids at school. There is only one friend my age that I can think of that doesn't shy away when I mention her, or the hospital visits, or illness and death. I feel a great mortality, and yet, I'm not afraid. I am afraid of making people uncomfortable. People's eyes can express so much, then why am I afraid to look at them? What am I so afraid of? Nothing that was listed on Goo's phobia list. Am I afraid of the truth, or am I afraid that they'll see what's in my eyes. I have great control over my mouth, to hide all evidence -- but there's nothing I can do to control my eyes.I've been hiding behind a wall of cynicism to an even greater extent as of late. Some of the sarcasm has been drawn out of my nature, but I worry about the rest. I'm not usually so "catty," and I generally only complain about such trivial events during more substantial relapses.My afternoon was better. I ate at Bertucci's with Goo, Betsy, and Morgan. Our waiter was Constantine (Constantine, Constantine) from Bosnia. He was very... interesting. Morgan, what's the time? If any of the three of you are reading this, thank you so much. I was able to forget the pain (physical and emotional), and laugh, and genuinely enjoy myself.Betsy and I then ventured a la casa de Goo, and had a relaxing afternoon. I needed it. I've been working hard, skipping breaks at school to do more work, and losing sleep. Neglect catches up to me very quickly. My legs hurt so badly, that I can barely walk, and during the show (which, for the record, was wonderful, save that Amy girl) I kept getting double vision to accompany the headaches. That, in addition to countless other physical ailments. I've certainly felt worse, but I hate when I do this to myself. I could have prevented it, but I opted out. I predict a more substantial crash tomorrow, and then I'll spend the next week recovering. I even yelled at Jacquie on the stairs before the show. She was kvetching about walking allll the way back to the main building, after just reaching the theater building, and I barked back, "OH, complain, complain! FIBROMYALGIA AND CFIDS." I think I took her aback, I'm not usually so forward with her. My harsh tone surprised me, too.Tomorrow I get so sleep -- and I plan to sleep as late as I can go avoid the eminent collapse. I've been dealing so well with my Chronic Fatigue lately, I can't believe that I did this to myself. Someday I'm going to get rid of this. Someday, I'm going to wake up, and I'll be able to walk perfectly, and I won't have a headache, and I won't hurt everywhere, and my joints won't ache, and my lymph nodes won't be swollen, and I'll be able to sleep, and I won't get sick, and I'll be able to think properly... and it will be a miracle. Even if the odds are one million to one, I can do it. I can do anything.~Jenn

Limbo

I'm at the brief interlude on a Tuesday, after dinner but before piano. There is not enough time to even attempt productivity, yet there is just enough to recognize that there is truly nothing to do. That's what the "limbo" is about in the subject, it has nothing to do with the shimmy-under-the-pole game, as much as I wish it did.I bought an almost entirely new wardrobe of pants this weekend. I keep putting my pants into the laundry, and then I never see them again. They are eaten, by the monster that is known as Joanne's stupidity. Not only have I lost nearly all of my pants since we hired her, but many of my shirts have also mysteriously disappeared. All I ever get back are socks and underwear -- and take note that the underwear usually does not belong to me. Apparantly, this is not a vicious conspiracy against me, but against my entire family. On weekends, we hold Underwear Swaps, in a last attempt to regain our respective garments.Luckily, the conspiracy will soon end. Joanne leaves on the first of March, along with all of my problems. We have an interview with another person on Thursday. She's just out of college, degree in elementary ed. We've interviewed several others via telephone, but quickly overruled them as a possibility. One of them spoke like Fran Drescher, only more nasal. Uh huh, just picture that one.I taped my commute to school this morning, unintentionally, of course. I found an old tape of Olivia singing, with our freshman year chorus rehearsing on Side B. I tried in vain to listen to the chorus rehearsal, but ended up pressing "record" and setting it beside me for the duration of the ride. I sing in the car. Loud. If you haven't heard me belt a C#, you're really missing out in life. My C# comes with a guarantee of permanent deterioration of your ear drums. I do cover the cost of all damage if settled in court.When you see Amy in school tomorrow, rush to congratulate her. RUSH. She finally broke up with Andy, after a prolonged relationship that consisted of talking once every few months, and occassional, but rare, eye contact. Now she is available to become friends with Crump. What a concept.Katy and I passed many notes in Latin American History -- purely in Spanish. I continued with this because I figured that even if Jeff picked it up, he couldn't understand it. He's one of those French elitist types; too high and mighty to even consider learning a word of Spanish. Most of the notes from my side were better references to Lexy, whom I am certain comes in a box labeled "Mattell." We also engaged in a highly intellectual discussion revolving around the purely evil natures of the Cort?s-based character in the horrible film The Road To El Dorado, and the the oft-questionable taste of women in such movies. Who would you rather date from El Dorado, fun-loving Miguel, or stuffy Tulio? Is it even a question.I took an entire role of film of my Children's Garden kids at lunch, none of which developed properly. ?Qu? frustrating! I believe it's because I discovered that my camera was accidentally set on 800ASA, but I can't be sure. That's the only logical explanation, anyway. I did waste a good hour after school because of this mishap.It's officially time to leave for piano. I have conquered the boredom.~Jenn

Procrastination and a Monday Evening

I have been trying to get work done all weekend, to no avail. Yesterday, I had another mini-CFIDS crash after an erythromycin crash, and spent the day trying to recover while we had guests. That leaves Monday evening for homework.I have just spent the past two and a half hours creating a detailed outline of Cort?s' conquest on M?xico. I glance down the assignment sheet to see that I need to write another detailed outline -- of Pizarro's conquest -- read another, oh, 40 pages of dense, required reading, in addition to writing a 4-page paper. By Wednesday. Is Jeff on CRACK? It's time to go to the Gingerbread Construction Factory and buy another one of those Boston Creme muffins. "The Boston Creme muffin was... unusually good. And it did help her grade." -Jeff BiersachNot to mention Civil War with Rachel Hirsch. As much as I adore history, it's about now that I'm kicking myself for scheduling two history courses in one mod. If I hadn't readjusted my schedule so much mods 1-3 this wouldn't have happened.Is everyone else avoiding their Monday evenings?And Phyllis is a horrible name. It's like that Mary Poppins 'Jolly Holliday" name ... little... thing-ish monologue-ish-rap-ish something-or-other.Mavis and Sybil have ways that are winning,Prudence and Gwendolyn set your heart spinning,Phoebe's delightful, Maude is disarmingJanis, Phyllicia, Lydia, charming.Winifred's dashing, Vivian's sweetStephanie's smashing, Pricilla a treat,Veronica, Millicent, Agnes and JaneConvivial company, time and againDorcas and Phyllis and Glynis are sorts,All agree are three jolly good sportsBut the cream of the crop, the tip of the topIs Mary Poppins, and there I stopI still maintain that I can do it better than both Anthony Carrigan and Matt Christian. I don't run out of breath.And now, it's on to Pizarro!~Jenn

Mod Euro flashbacks: Sing, Swing, Savor the sting...

I spent the day doing errands with my family, and ultimately collapsed by 4pm. When I collaspe, I generally have low threshold for bad jokes. I have had several excruciatingly painful encounters with my father during these moments of collapsation. And to top it off, we were stuck at the mall...For the past two or three weeks, I have been craving soft-serve chocolate ice cream with strawberries. I'm not sure why. My father allowed me to get some at the mall -- or at least, he gave his permission. We began to order, when the cashier cut in saying that they were out of chocolate frozen yogurt. Okay, fine, I could deal without the soft-serve, but wanted chocolate. "Oh, we're out of chocolate, hold on a second..." They had chocolate fudge brownie, but no chocolate. So I chose a substitute, and ordered the strawberries... "Oh, I'm sorry, we're out of strawberries." Do they have *nothing*? Those incompetent people at H?agen Dazs.I'm listening to the Original Broadway Cast Album of The Scarlet Pimpernel, and now I am having flashbacks to Modern European History with Dave Levy, last year. That class was the definition of insanity. Let's see... who was in it: Katy (during her first mod at CSW), Janek (and his foppish hand gestures), James (who was.. James), Peter Droste (who loved to watch the Austin Powers II DVD under the table while Dave lectured. Dave never seemed to catch on. Peter was also going through his Pillsbury Doughboy obsession), Morgan (crazy, as usual), and Ben Gardner (with his amusing pseudo-French accents). Great class. Katy and I played the song "Madame Guillotine" for our report on something French Revolution-ish. Dave kept asking me to sing it, but I couldn't get a note out without doubling in hysterics. For everyone's amusement, here are the lyrics:MADAME GUILLOTINEfrom the musical The Scarlet Pimpernelmusic by Frank Wildhorn, with lyrics by Nan Knighton, of whom I am still suspended in disbelief that she actually wanted credit for this song.I know the gutterAnd I know the stink of the streetKicked like a dog,I have spat out the bile of defeat.All you beauties who towered above me,You who gave me the smack of your bod.Now I give you the gutter,I have you the judgement of God!Vengeance Victorious!These are the glorious days:Women of Paris,Come gather your bloody bouquets.Now gaze on our goddess of justiceWith her shimmering, glimmering bladeAs she kisses these traitors,She sings them a last serenade!Sing! Swing! Saor the sting!As she severs you - Madame Guillotine!Slice! Come, Paradise!You'll be smitten withMadame Guillotine!The world may be ugly,But each man must do what he must.Give in, pretty dear,In a year you will be pretty dust.Now come let our lady possess youIn her breath taking, hair-razing bed.She will tingle your spineAs she captures your heart and your head!Sing! Swing! Savor the sting!As she severs you - Madame Guillotine!Slice! Come Paradise!Our delilah will shave you razor clean!God, when did man lose his reason?Save us, my God, if you're there!God, can you not feel the terrorLike a fire in the air?Flash! Slash! Glisten and gash!She will ravish you! Madame Guillotine!Split! Madame just bit!Give her more to bite! She's a hungry queen!Sing! Savor the sting!As she severs you - Madame Guillotine!Slice! Come, Paradise!Hail, her MajestyMadame Guillotine!If you want to hear this beautiful song (if not just for the chorus), you may click hereNo, I did not add in all of those exclamation points, that's how the lyrics are written in the linear notes. I love the "as she severs you." Touch of brilliance, if I do say so myself.~Jenn

It's 2am. Do you know where your children are?

I'm not sure why I'm online at this hour. It's just one of those things I do. I'm finally able to retain liquids again, so I'm reveling in my stable stomach-ness.I missed work day. Robin won't be so pleased, but it's not my fault. I had a stronger reaction to my antibiotics this morning. I hate erythromycin. No more vertigo and quesiness, I was having full blown anti-peristaltic movements. I threw up regularly on twenty or thirty minute intervals from around 9:30 until close to three. [ironically, the hours of work day] You could almost set a clock by me. What a pleasant day.We called MIT/Medical to get me a new prescription. I'm now on amoxicillan. If I remember correctly, I got sick last time I had that, too, so we'll see. My body hates drugs. MIT/Medical also recommended that I be rushed into MGH to be treated for dehydration, but I didn't end up going. I can't remember why, it's all a blur.Tomorrow will be better. I can feel it. "Tomorrow belongs to me." [quick fact: I almost used that song for an audition once, but decided that a Nazi anthem, ficitious or otherwise, probably wasn't a wise choice.] If I were smart (conditional statement), I wouldn't have been so active yesterday. I went out to dinner con Jacquie, Galen, Casey, and Tracy, all of whom later left me to attend a viewing of "Hannibal." Amy and Katy then came to my house and I introduced them to "the Sims." Katy left the house, promising to hold a bitter grudge against me for the fact that her character is friends with Buck. Katy, if you are reading this, your character has NO ROMANTIC INCLINATIONS with Buck. Honest. There are no little hearts! However, the following people fell madly in love during the game last nigh: Amy & Andy (they talked! It was a miracle!), and Gwen & Evan [Jesperson]. I'd have to say that was the strangest couple. They just.. all of a sudden.. sort of fell in love. I didn't even realize it, until they were at about 60 points. Casey and Galen were doing pretty well, although then Casey started flirting with her, or something (Casey was a guest in the New CSW house, he's from the old-school home my little brother created), and now they are merely "family friends." Sorry about that, Casey.My father has informed me that since I'm still running a slight fever, I should probably go to bed. I hope everyone has a fabulous long weekend.!Jenn

Untitled on a Thursday Evening

I feel like I am outside of my body, distant and secluded from my own life. I do not have a great memory of these past few days, except some of the rather strange things that I did. For example, this morning I attempted to brush my hair with a telephone, tried to use my pajamas as a towel after my shower, and nothing I have said has been right. I seem to have very little control over my emotions, and I find myself apologizing to friends over and over again for perceived discourtesy, and have been repetedly told that I did not behave badly. In truth, I have no memory of anything I told them, so I wanted to apologize "just in case." At least, I think that's the reason, I can't be sure. I'm in a severe state of confusion.I went to bed early last night, and had strange dreams. It may have been due to the fact that I went to bed at 7:30 because of my sinus infection. Normally I would not complain about something so trivial as a sinus infection, but it really was horrible last night. The right side of my face hurt so badly that I could not even open my eyes, there was too much pressure. My vision was horribly blurry, and I could barely open my mouth from the excruciating pain. I could not walk a few steps without falling... I haven't had that in a long, long time. It felt as if I were trapped under a boulder, and could not escape.. and it was exerted enormous amounts of pressure on my face. My only possible evasion of this situation was to sleep.I dreamt that I was lying on the sofa (which I was, at the time), and that my father receied a phone call that my grandmother was in the hospital. Immediately, I knew that she was on her death bed. In the dream, that is -- in real life, my grandmother is perfectly healthy. Soon after this phone call, I was rushed into the hospital myself, and diagnosed with brain cancer. This may have been in part from thinking about my mother a lot, and also from the fact that I was reminded of her symptoms before diagnosis: astonishly similiar to my trivial little sinus infection. They performed radiosurgery [the surgery that my mother could not have, due to the agressive nature of the tumor], and I ended up sharing a room with my grandmother, who promptly died. Very typical of a dream.I woke up and checked to make sure I still had my peripheral vision. I'm such a ridiculous person.******Oh, and Joanne wanted me to go to the library today, to return books. Luckily, I had an excuse: I cannot return all of the Inca books, because I left one at school, which will be returned tomorrow [Friday]. Why don't we send Joanne off to the Son of Sam cult member. She's in no danger, the Son of Sam only kill attractive young girls. [I told Katy that bit of information, adding that I was not in danger, but Katy, being a dear, said that I was in danger. I'll go along with that, because: a) it can't hurt to boost my self esteem, and b) it's not as if I went out of my way to confront this guy. However, I AM over this little incident. I did talk about it for a while Wednesday morning, because it felt like such a novelty.*****One of the only things I do remember about this week is driving home from the gas station yesterday. I was driving behind an ambulance, and I craned my neck to see the person being escorted. Call it a sick fascination. I got a better look at a light. It was a good thing I was stopped, because I almost lost control of the wheel.The woman inside looked identical to my mother, with the exception of a few extra gray hairs. Same face, same hair style, same body type, even. Our gazes connected, and she sat bolt upright. Her eyes seemed to swell instantaneously, and she reached her hand towards me ever so slightly, with her mouth slightly agape. The emergency personel tried to get her to lie back down, but she wouldn't. And then there was a green light.It frightened me, to have this woman staring back at me. I had the overwhelming desire to follow the ambulance, but I was feeling lousy, unfit for driving, so I wisely drove home directly.Life is strange, isn't it? Originally, I planned to write a nice, cheerful, "isn't the world rosy" entry, but that never ends up happening. As soon as I am able to connect back to my life, I will do so.Well, the good thing was that I developed my first negatives in photo class today, and I believe the pictures of my children came out decently. As soon as I print them, I'm going to make ALL of you look at them. I love those children more than I can even say. I know that they are quick to loyalty, but how can I avoid melting when I arrive at their class yesterday (to take photos), just as they were in line to go on a little outing, and they run up to me with open arms, shouting my name. "JENN!" "Jenn, will you hold my hand?" "I want to hold Jenn's hand!" "No, I do!" "I get to walk behind Jenn!" "Are you coming back to stay?"We saw Becky walk by, who worked with the Children's Garden kids recently, and they didn't even look twice at her. The teachers tried to get the kids to remember Becky, but they could not even recall her name, much less have the urge to run up and hug her. I felt very loved.Oh, and I noticed that Goo announced her role in the musical in her entry. Congrats, Goo! Some of the casting looks quite promising, although other roles... well, for one thing, I have been cast as a soprano. I do not mind the fact that my song is a soprano song, but in all of the harmonies I am a soprano. It's not *bad*, it's merely unusual. I put down "mezzo" for my voice type on the audition sheets. All my life I have sung the alto line, and it feels odd to be singing the melody. I kept singing the Sop 2 line by accident yesterday, when I know the melody perfectly well. I'm more of an "alto with screeching ability," anyway. I have no ability to anunciate above an e. It's rather ironic that my song has no words. "Ah ah ah aahhhh ahhhhhhhh." I think I can handle it. I'm not fond of the pairing of my role (the other girl has a diva attitude), but I'm feeling as if I can handle just about anything right now. Even the occassional diva -- or two.~Jenn

Cult Members in Winchester

Do you know the reason they created a "panic" button for car keys? I met one of them today.I convinced Robin to let me leave the theater study hall to go to the public library in town, to research the demographics of the Incas. I neared my car, to drop off my books, when I man approached me, seemingly out of nowhere.SCARY MAN: Would you like to hear an Urban Legend?ME: (looking skeptical) What? Oh... no, I'd rather not. (turns to unlock the door)SCARY MAN: (walking closer, with a strange look in his eye, and his hands behind his back) Are you sure? It's very interesting.ME: No, I'm sort of in a rush...SCARY MAN: It won't take very long.ME: No, thank you.SCARY MAN: (lowers his voice, and walks even closer) It's about the devil-worshipping cult of the Son of Sam. (when he said "devil-worshipping," he started to smile, a rather Grinch-like smile. Not the kind of smile you want to see in such a circumstance.)ME: (stepping back)No...SCARY MAN: (still walking forward, with fixed eyes. Does this man never blink?) I tell a lot of people this story. They like it. Would you like to hear it now?ME: I have to go now.At that point, I opened the door very quickly, and locked it, shoving the books next to me on the seat. I started the car, but the man didn't move at first. I was very tempted to back into him, but the thought the potential legalities loomed in my mind. I decided against it, although I will mention that I came *so* close.I looked at him in the rear view mirror, and he was still looking at me. I shifted into reverse, hoping he would "get the picture." He had legs, he could move if he wanted to. It was only then that he finally moved. I turned back as I neared the edge of the parking lot, and he was still looking at me.Yes, Winchester IS a scary place.*******The auditions for the musical were last night. They went well. Mental note: next time, pick a song. After that, maybe I can work on learning the lyrics? :) It didn't look that impressive to sing "la la la la la" when I forgot the verse.Mod 5 is off and running! I have Latin American History, Civil War, and Beginning Photo. They all look like great classes, and now my father is yelling at me for dinner. More later.~Jenn

Our Fondoo Fiesta, Nonexistent Starbucks, and Urban Sass

Mod Break has been rather successful thus far. Thursday and Friday I spent at Ambrose. It was wonderful chatting with all the teachers and parents. Mrs. Cataldo is, uncontested, my personal hero. She can do absolutely anything.Joanne hasn't shown up since we fired her, on Wednesday. She was supposed to continue until the first of March, but she's called in "sick" every day. My father thinks that she's going to show up at our door, drop off all of our belongings she is still in possession of, and speed off into the sunset. I can't say that I'd be surprised.Ah, yes, and then (rather indirectly), we arrive at Saturday. My father went out with friends this evening, so I was left to babysit Ben & Caroline. We invited Goo over, for a small party, and.. well.. let's start at the very beginning.We watched some home movies with Goo first. Jill Halperin at age 10, and Val Daum stumbling over grass at age 5. We then got rather involved in the Bruins game (they won 6-2 vs Tampa Bay!). Byron DaFoe was injured, but Girard and Joe Thorton scored big time. We also talked with Jacquie and Katy por el tel?fono. Ultimately, we piled into the car to pick up Julia.Julia gave us the worst directions ever in the history of the entire universe. An utter catastrophe! She told us to get to Park Avenue, although then sent us in the wrong direction. She didn't realize that we weren't coming from Route 2. Goo made 3 U-turns, to take us back to Arlington Heights. "We're at Trader Joes... Walgreens... can you relate these locations to your house?" "No... look for Starbucks." To make a long story short, after many humourly exasperated phone calls, we ended up in Lexington, oddly enough, in Toby's driveway. He did not seem... pleased... when we asked him for directions. In his most gracious "Leave Me Alone" manner, he gave us a 5-second ultimatum.Julia AND Toby both mentioned a so-called "Starbucks." These Starbucks is allegedly located right next to Trader Joe's and Walgreen's. So when we mentioned to Julia that we were at Trader Joe's, shouldn't that have clicked with her, to say, "Oh, yes, turn there"? No. No, why would life be that simple. THERE IS NO STARBUCKS, much less an imaginary fork in the road that Julia oft mentioned.Julia has some intense urban sass.Luckily, we did arrive at Julia's house, all body parts intact. It was more of an adventure getting home from Star Market (where we picked up all the necessary ingredients to make some serious fondoo). We ended up going the wrong way down a one-way street... Route 3, actually. Cars plodding along at 45mph, heading straight at us. Goo assured us that this is a rare occurance.Again, we arrived back at my house safe and sound, and in riotous fits of laughter. I'm not sure if "riot" can be used as an adjective, but I'm going to do my best to try. At any rate, I always laugh until my face turns purple when I'm with Goo.Fondoo was another... adventure. I still have cheese all over my kitchen. I did manage to clean up most of it, although the smell lives on. The cheese wasn't exactly pretty. The chocolate strawberries were finger-lickin' good, however. I'm going to turn into a strawberry someday. My father's friend, Ravi, told us that for every chicken we eat, we're going to be reincarnated as a chicken, and slaughtered. Have I already mentioned that story? I'm going to spend the next millenium being all those chickens. I'm then going to spend the next eon as a strawberry. Being a fruit is not as interesting, but so it goes. "Day 52: I sat all day in the sun. I think I'm going to be ripe soon. The end."One more day until Mod 5. What a crazy world we live in.~Jenn

A test

Maia and Jesse, two very adorable children, whom I spent all of Sunday with.~Jenn

Update: 8:42 pm, 6 February, 2001I wisely deleted the sound file. Oy, was that obnoxious. If you just happen to be a masochist, and want to listen to it, it is still available. Who doesn't love clips of 5-year-olds yodeling?

The Day Off

Did everyone enjoy their day off? I'm sure. I managed to get out of the house. Amy and I went to the Museum of Science. For photographic documentation, look here:I think I must have the strangest nose.We had quite the time, and a particularly interesting commute with all of the snow. I wish there were a small fraction of a chance that school would be cancelled, but Greg would not do such a thing. I ask this small favor out of the interest of my Urban Studies grade. Bellsy and I were not able to meet over the weekend, and now we are in... severe trouble, shall we say.Here is the good news in my life: my father is going to fire Joanne (our nanny). We have not had peace of mind since hiring her. I do not have the time or energy to go into detail as to all of the things she has done to push us over the edge, although here is a recent example: on Friday, my father mentioned to her that we need a new curtain for the window in his bathroom, however, the task is low priority. What did she do? She bought a new curtain, and redecorated the entire bathroom to accomodate -- and it was ugly. Gray accessories with peach tiles... Anyway, my father made her change everything back, and her rebuttal was the following: "well, you're new to this single-father thing, and you didn't know ..." I'm not sure what happened after the ..., but it's generally not a good idea to undermine the credibility of your employer. I am proud to say that she's history, and I will no longer be trapped into 90 minute discussions about all the wonderful things she did to help the people in Venezuela on her trip to Caracas. I was afraid to go into my own living room for weeks.Today was the three-year anniversary... of my mother's illness. Of her diagnosis, I mean. 5 February, 1997. I remember the day so clearly, it haunts me. It was the worst day of my life. The way people treated me... I'm still trying to forgive people. I know my mother would want me to, but it's so difficult.I found e-mails to my friend Arlene last night, from the last week of my mother's life. I'm so glad that I wrote it down, because the entire week is a blur now. It happened so quickly, which I suppose is best. I did not even remember that the night before she fell into a coma she held me for hours, crying. It was the second time I had seen her cry through all of the cancer, and it showed how much she loved me, and cared for me, and was truly going to miss me... I can't even finish any of my sentences today, I'm so discombobulated. I remember the evening now. My mother was not the perfect child I was thought she was. She was judgemental, critical, a bit of a complainer -- rather like myself. ;) However, she trained herself against it. She worked so hard at it, that her brain did not automatically think of insults, it thought of praises. Her brain did not ever think of complaints. She went through close to three years of very difficult chemotherapy, and not once did I hear her complain. She saved complaints for rare circumstances, such as when a mother was being completely irrational on the PTO, and even then her complaint was administered with a great deal of humor. There is hope for me yet! Again, it won't be easy, but if I'm able to do it, it would be well worth my time. It is a trait in my mother that I hold in complete awe and reverence.Maybe that's why I went to the Science Museum today. She loved it there. When she was a kid, her sister told her that she was going to take her there, in order to get my mother out of the house so that they could prepare for a surprise birthday party. My mother got all dressed up -- going to the Museum of Science was a very big deal to her! -- and was consequentially heartbroken when her sister merely drove around the block and brought her back home. I think she still harbored slight bitterness towards her sister, that she did not get to go to the Museum of Science that day. She loved to learn...I know, all of my entries have been about my mother. I could write several novels about her, if I wanted to. Instead, she'll have to settle for a few, poorly constructed LiveJournal entries. I'm sure she'd laugh if she saw how much time I spend writing and thinking about her. ~Jenn

Returning to the Ideal Husband

I had another conversation with a friend of mine, Joseph [JSY], about husbands. JSY: What? Women pay bills? Isn't that why they get married?JENN: That's why *I'm* going to get married.JSY: Is that your only criteria?JENN: I'd also like him to be nice, and someone with strong morals who does not abuse substances recreationally -- and moderately attractive. We've already established that this man does not exist.JSY: Oh, yes, he does!JENN: Really.JSY: He's Ken Doll.JENN: One more criteria: does not wear plastic underwear.JSY: Some people have fetishes, you know. JENN: I'd also be a little suspicious of lace.JSY: That's blatant discrimination. So you don't want to marry a flaming queen?JENN: I'm not a big fan of fishnets, either.JSY: I guess this means he shouldn't wear more make-up than you.JENN: As long as it's discreet.Well, I found it amusing. I stay up too late talking to JSY. I was full-fledged insane last night at Bickford's. Everyone at the table kept giving me icy glances, except for Katy, who kept saying, "*chortle* We really don't spend enough time together!" Who is it that hates the word 'chortle,' I can't recall.I'm attempting to make this the shortest entry in the recent history of man. Have a great 3-day weekend, all!~Jenn

Whipple Hill

My day got off to a rough start. Joanne parked in front of my side of the garage (again!), so I was forced to park in the street (again). I did not feel up to moving my car into the garage last night, so I stupidly left it out to face the frigid night alone. I was off to a late start this morning, and the fact that my car conveniently froze over did not help. Nor did the fact that I slipped twice while attempting to get down my driveway. Usually I love starting my day off with multiple bruises on my leg, but today I was not in the mood for games. Fortunately, my mood improved somewhat upon arrival at school. We had some interesting discussion during Urban Studies, such as how Jennifer is going to die in Costa Rica because she can't swim. Dave Valdini allegedly cannot swim, also. What crazy people!I went to Whipple Hill today. I went alone, to absorb all of emotions. I had not been there since November, when we spread some of my mothers ashes at sunset. The raw wind drove us off early, and we plan to return as a family in the spring, with a more temperate climate. The wind today was gentle, allowing me to sit at the top of the hill for thirty or forty minutes. I could almost see my mother's figure on a rock near me, curled up, and writing in a journal... and talking to me. Her eyes always sparkled and she spoke with pure enthusiasm for the world around her... and I cried. I cried until my stomach shook. It felt nearly foreign -- I haven't cried in a while. After a while, I wasn't even sure why I was crying, I simply was. My walk down the hill was so relaxing -- all the cliches of "soul clensing." I smiled to myself. Perhaps next time I'll bring my old journal to the top of the hill and sketch a few thoughts.Tomorrow is Friday. What a long week! Next week is only two days, at least. Next mod is the musical. My, how that has snuck up on me. Looking forward to some huge fiestas in the not-so-distant future...~Jenn

Whipple Hill

My day got off to a rough start. Joanne parked in front of my side of the garage (again!), so I was forced to park in the street (again). I did not feel up to moving my car into the garage last night, so I stupidly left it out to face the frigid night alone. I was off to a late start this morning, and the fact that my car conveniently froze over did not help. Nor did the fact that I slipped twice while attempting to get down my driveway. Usually I love starting my day off with multiple bruises on my leg, but today I was not in the mood for games. Fortunately, my mood improved somewhat upon arrival at school. We had some interesting discussion during Urban Studies, such as how Jennifer is going to die in Costa Rica because she can't swim. Dave Valdini allegedly cannot swim, also. What crazy people!I went to Whipple Hill today. I went alone, to absorb all of emotions. I had not been there since November, when we spread some of my mothers ashes at sunset. The raw wind drove us off early, and we plan to return as a family in the spring, with a more temperate climate. The wind today was gentle, allowing me to sit at the top of the hill for thirty or forty minutes. I could almost see my mother's figure on a rock near me, curled up, and writing in a journal... and talking to me. Her eyes always sparkled and she spoke with pure enthusiasm for the world around her... and I cried. I cried until my stomach shook. It felt nearly foreign -- I haven't cried in a while. After a while, I wasn't even sure why I was crying, I simply was. My walk down the hill was so relaxing -- all the cliches of "soul clensing." I smiled to myself. Perhaps next time I'll bring my old journal to the top of the hill and sketch a few thoughts.Tomorrow is Friday. What a long week! Next week is only two days, at least. Next mod is the musical. My, how that has snuck up on me. Looking forward to some huge fiestas in the not-so-distant future...~Jenn

Tolerance

'Tis another day. I rushed home from school so that I may go to the library, although discovered that there were no parking spaces within two blocks. As I'm not fond of walking two blocks to the library in the rain, I opted to go home and sleep. I lay in my bed for half an hour... I am physically incapable of sleeping. How very convenient.This entry's topic is: TOLERANCE. Or rather, my lack thereof. I have specific intolerances, namely people that have a headache and think that the world is crashing down. Everyone at school is sick. This would not be so bad, besides the constant hum of students hacking up a lung, if people did not feel the need to complain about it. In particular, if they did not feel the need to complain about it to me. Good luck extracting an ounce of sympathy from me. For the people that don't know about my CFIDS, [oh, look at that use of a pronoun. It's not just CFIDS, it's MY CFIDS] well, they have more of an excuse. However, people that are fully aware and continue to complain after I have already become tired with their games and reminded them-- don't you love those run-on sentences? At any rate, those people are just being insensitive. I KNOW you have a headache. Get over it. You are not going to die, you have not developed an exotic strain of Pertussis, you are going to be okay!Perhaps that is an example of insensitivity on my part, although I feel qualified. I come to school unless I am:A) Unable to walk five feet. As long as I can walk five feet, I can go to school. Who cares if I fall, it certainly wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me.B) My stomach cannot hold food down. That becomes more of a public space issue. It's just not considerate of me to be vomitting all over the walk ways, etc.C) I actually have developed an exotic strain of Pertussis, which is coincidentally highly contagious and I am sentenced to life in a plastic bubble, until Western medicine can find a cure."C" hasn't happened all that often, but I do stay home in such instances. I go to school in every other instance, and I don't complain about it. What are they going to do? Stuff advil down my throat? Thanks, I can do that on my own, if the infernal little pills actually had some effect on me.If you see me in school, and have a little stomache ache and feel tired, and you think you have a fever, don't vent to me. I cannot wave my hands and -- poof! -- your symptoms disappear. Don't complain to anyone else, either, come to think of it. Go home and be babied, or stay in school and try your best to learn. Do I have the power to decide whether or not you should go to the nurse and ingest some tylenol? Some people must think I do, because I was asked countless times today.Examples of good sick people: Julia and Amanda. They may have looked a little sick outwardly, but they did not complain about it and they were doing their best to take care of themselves. To top it off, they also listened to me complain about how sick people complain. I'm not a hypocrite, honest.I'm also not jealous that some people are capable of sleeping. "I slept all through A-block..." Lucky! I wish I had such control over my body. Oy, and I wonder why people get mad at me for giving them the "wrong reaction." If they are looking for a bottle fed reaction, again, I'm not the one to turn to.What CAN you turn to me for? I'm not sure. I am not this bitter and resentful in person -- most of the time, anyway. I can only tolerate so much...What else is there in the life of me... Joanne (our nanny) is back today, after a sick-day yesterday. This can only mean one thing: we are having chicken for dinner tonight.We had a brief meeting for "Once Upon A Mattress" today. The cast is going to be... *drum roll please* pretty bad. It's almost all new kids -- Robin Wood has scared the returning students away. It's mostly Freshman. I can only tolerate so many freshman in one room. We also have zero guys who can sing. We're going to end up with Evan Greer as the romantic lead. If we cannot turn this production around, we might as well start laughing now, and have a good humor about it.Goo -- although LiveJournal is tempting, you should probably get some work done, m'dear.Maybe some of those darn Winchester-ites will have left the library by now. Wish me luck...-Jenn

A Thought Returns

I remember one of the topics I while looking at the first paragraph of my last entry. "Hardcore cocaine."Jacquie and I were conversing on the ride back to school from Bruegger's, and somehow came to the topic of children by way of how stupid Drew Pappone's parents must be to give their son a car, even though he has a record of crashing the car once every month since he has gotten his license. (what a mouthful) I mentioned that I wanted to adopt a child, and could very well end up with my own little Drew Pappone, perish the thought. Jacquie suggested that I would be better off marrying a good guy. If anyone happens to know of any straight-edge guys (not die-hard straightedge, but preferrably not with a cocaine habit) with a strong sense of morals, and at least moderately attractive, please tell him that I want to marry him. I'm incredulous that he even exists, but don't want to miss my opportunity if he, in fact, does. Do warn him that it's more of a strong friendship than a sexual relationship. Right, find me a guy like that. I dare you.You know what I just realized? I want my parent's relationship. I want the same kind of relationship they had. I do NOT want to marry my father, but I want a similiar relationship. Although the guy should not scare people off with his crazy optimization ideas and bad mathematician jokes, however endearing they may be. Moreover, I want to be like my mother. She gave me her 8th grade journals, so I know that she wasn't perfect -- which means I still have a chance at becoming as wonderful as she did.I read in a million and three books called "dealing with children about loss" (they ALL have the same title, I swear!) that developing a fixation on the lost loved one is natural. Of course, I've always had a fixation with my mother. She was my best friend, the person I always wanted to be, my ideal. It's only natural that I would feel even more intensely after losing her... right? I'm not just crazy?~Jenn

A Day In My Life

Life is good. I honestly cannot think of anything to vent about in this entry. Isn't that incredible? I cannot think of one problem in my life. I am sitting here, with a Cheshire Cat-eqsue grin like there's no tomorrow. My brother is giving me strange looks. There must have been something in the multi-vitamin I just took. Let's see... Calcium 100%, Zinc 100%, Riboflavin 100%, Hardcore Cocaine 100%... we have found the culprit.I have not written in LiveJournal in such a long time. I reread my previous entries. One word: ANGST. Especially the one about dinner at Bertucci's. "I enjoyed the evening, but now I'm feeling lousy because I'm the only one who did." I am able to draw one conclusion: I didn't enjoy it as much as I said. Oh, yes, looking back on the evening, it was enjoyable, despite the fact that it compelled me to write about my social inhibitions. I was in denial, that I am no longer Pollyanna. Disgustingly enough, I *was* a Pollyanna, of sorts, in middle school. I was THE optimist. Just being around me made one's stomach wretch. I've certainly changed since then, although I still smile and laugh a lot. I can't help it.So much of my life has changed since my last entry. September 10th feels like a lifetime ago. I am so angry at myself for writing what I did about my mother, because I had nothing else to complain about. She was a little difficult towards the end, but it was rather endearing, and I would put up with it for another 40 years if I could. I still miss her so much. I cry at night, sometimes, while everyone else is asleep. I still have dreams about her. She will always be my hero. It was Parent's Day at CSW last Friday, and I was hopelessly jealous. All around me, kids were walking with their mothers. I never wanted my parents to attend those functions, but I wanted so badly to be able to walk with my mother. Life is such a precious gift.I am dealing with the loss pretty well. I think I dealt with it better right after her death. Perhaps it was easier with all of our family gathered 'round, and people giving me an easier time. This is really the first mod that I have no "excuses." Mod 1 I spent time visiting her in the hospital, and was unable to complete many assignments. She passed away during Mod 2, and Mod 3 it was still so close... I was recovering. What can I say for Mod 4? "Still recovering." I cannot excuse my way through life. Besides, I am still doing quite well in my classes. My homework for math has been a little sporadic, shall we say, but I still seem to have a 95 average.My eyes are swollen simply from thinking about my mother. Nobody outside of my family seems to talk about her anymore. I guess I should hang out on the streets of Winchester more often: people still come up to me and tell me what an incredible woman my mother was. She made such an imprint on so many people's lives. It's such a shame that none of my CSW friends really got know her. She *was* amazing. It hurts me that I cannot talk to any of my school friends about her. I think that it makes them uncomfortable when I mention her. I miss her beyond measure.What happened to the "I have no problems" attitude? Well, I don't, really, just a few long-term issues. I did have a most fabulous weekend. I babysat Ben & Caroline. On Saturday we visited with Mrs. Cataldo (friend of the family -- she's incredible), and her children, Jesse and Maia. On Sunday, we took a field trip to Walden Pond, and then visited Goo. That's a brief summary, anyway. My body is still trying to recover. I don't need to mention CFIDS, *again*, do I?At this point, I am not sure what to write about. I had a million thoughts in my head before I started, but they have since dissipated. My sister is also in "dire need" of banana bread, and I shall comply to her request. Everybody could use a little more banana bread in their life.~Jenn

Addictive Net Games

Over the course of the evening, I've become impulsively addicted to CFS Daze: The Chronic Fatigue Internet Game. I'm not sure who came up with the idea, but it's brilliant. I realize that I'm the only one who is able to appreciate it, and I don't care. Through each day, you have to move around and try and perform simple tasks (feed the cat, pick up mail, listen to music, etc.) and make it to the evening without having a relapse. It's so hard to get past the first day or two without having a major relapse, although I seem to have figured out the key to success: wake up at 10am, take a shower. Rest until 5pm. Feed the cat, rest until 9pm. Go to bed. I seem to be doing okay with this strategy.. now if only I could apply that to my real life.On some days, I venture far enough to actually eat something, or take a pill. Occassionally I will read a book or pick a flower. My Game Life doesn't look so bad. If people decide they want to humor me and play a round, they can visit the game website. ( http://www.unlimitedweb.net.au/cgi-bin/cfs-daze/daze.cgi)Not that I have an unhealthy obsession with my state of.. unhealth. It's not obsession, it's just that when you are constantly aware of something, it intrigues you. Especially if you want to get rid of it quite desparately. I'm thinking about doing some research towards the genetics of it. My mother had CFIDS in the early-mid 90's, just before her first cancer diagnosis. Now I hear that my grandmother may have had it in the 1950s or 1960s, before her cancer diagnosis. Which means: that I'm most likely going to end up getting cancer sometime in my life. But I knew that anyway, so it's nothing new. Although there must be some sort of connection, with the illness being passed from generation to generation. Good news: everyone else seems to have recovered.And now, I'm off to play another round of CFS Daze, which I keep myseriously typing as CSW Daze...~Jenn

Friday Evening LiveNovel entry

I just got home not to long ago. I didn't sit at home this evening, isn't that incredible? I went out to Bertucci's in Lexington centre, con Jacquie, Katy, Emily Goo, Jesse Scott, and Toby. I think I was the only one who actually enjoyed myself. As always, friendships strained towards the end and people got tired. It must be some special effect that I have on people. We didn't do much ... or rather, we didn't do *anything*. Although it was nice to be out of the house, to be included. I spend so many of my evenings home with my family (essentially alone), and human contact is always a good thing. Unfortunately, due to years of isolation in my house, I have absolutely zero social skills. (Yes, hear it comes. Another horrible rant about Jenn's past.) It's not that my parents isolated me, I take full responsibility for my isolation. In elementary school, I regarded as so different from the other kids, that although I had friends, I usually went straight home from school and did homework, and was basically on my own. In middle school, I again wanted to concentrate on schooling. And then, I got sick, which if you know me, my life is now focused on. I was then forced to stay at home because I could not move, could not think, and could not even moan most of the time to express that I was in a lot of pain. Having that experience as my background doesn't really aide to social situations. I was bless?d enough to get CFIDS in eighth grade, after cliques have already been established and kids are overly concerned about being "social." Social Life was such a foreign concfept to me. My social life was going to school for an hour or two before getting sent home sick. I only got to do it once or twice a week, as to not get too much excitement all at once. Who am I kidding, those few hours I did spend at school were absolute nightmares.Hence, I have never really spent my life around other kids. Adults, yes, but never kids. Teenagers, esp., have such a different social structure and social expectations. I wish people could be more tolerant with me. I find it so hard to escape from myself, as I retreated into my own little world many years ago. I don't want to offend people, to annoy people. I don't even act like "myself" around these people. I guess I just wanted to apologize to people. I don't think my behavior was atrocious, although obviously it didn't go as well as it should have. I can't take full responsibility for it, either, as I did enjoy myself. I wonder if I'm in denial, because although I look back on it now and claim that I enjoyed it, I still feel the need to have another rant in this LiveNovel. I just have so much work to do.. not work like homework (that, too), but work in relating to other people. Believe me, being cut off from the world for so long makes it very difficult. I know I have so many faults, and I'm trying to work through this. Changing behavior is so difficult. I don't think it's fair for me to come home and think that I had a nice evening out, while others go home and feel miserable -- but I can't control everyone else. I can't make them enjoy themselves, it's up to them. I think if they looked and realized how truly lucky they are, it would make them feel better. I know I'm incredibly lucky. I have had so much good fortune. Yes, I've had my share of misfortunes, but I'm learning to overcome them. Everyone goes through it, it's not just me.I'm not sure what point I'm trying to get across, if I'm even trying to get a point across at all. The people I feel bad for are the ones who went home this evening and did not feel positively about the experience. Yes, I'm still hurting terribly all over, feel quite ill, (once again, I HATE Chronic Fatigue!) and can barely move or think, but I'm content. Thanks to everyone.G'night,Jenn

I can't think of a creative subject title. I'm not even going to try.

Well, today is was back to school. It was wonderful to be back, although I could have done without lunch duty on the first day. I don't understand it, last year I had lunch duty on the first day of the first mod, too. Whoever assigns those things must hate Lisa's advisees. Just beacuse we have Bascom is no reason to be prejudiced against us poor, unfortunate souls!My classes look fine. I think it will be a good mod. No, I'm in denial, I'm just glad to be back. I have Spanish IV, Trig, and Ornithology. Spanish IV is... muy sketchioso. There are two freshman in the course. One of them is from Puerto Rico. As he is from a Spanish-speaking country, why is he taking Spanish class? And above all, why is he in only Spanish IV? If I were in a foreign country that didn't speak English, and I were taking an English course, I would certainly hope to be higher than English IV. Que depressing.Katy's in that class. She's also in my Trig class, B block. I don't remember signing up for Trig with her, but I guess we did it on purpose. Goodness konws why. Kris is also in the class, and will share the joy of Semra with us. It's a good thing like Math, or I'd end up like Katy, and yell that I'm going to commit suicide for the entire duration of the day.After lunch is Ornithology, which looks fine. My mother loves to birdwatch, so hopefully she'll be around during the mod to help me with my homework: to watch birds. I know, tricky stuff. I was informed this evening by my dear and loving father that my mother should be having radiosurgery within the next two weeks. He told my little brother & sister, and my mother was supposed to tell me. Right, that happened. Apparantly, my entire extended family knew about the surgery before I did. I love when that happens. It's hopefully going to remove what I endearly refer to as THE "little baby tumor." My father is afraid I'm too attatched to it sentimentally. I'm sorry, but I don't get sentimentally attatched to brain tumors.It looks like I will survive soccer, too. I was really worried before, due to the fact that my doctor advised me against it, and that I wasn't allowed to dance at my theater camp (where I was a counselor) in July due to the fact that I could barely move. I hate chronic fatigue, let me just say that again. I talked to Dave, who is coaching again, and he was very understanding. He was a little worried that I went an entire season last year without telling him that I had lots of medical difficulties, but I survived. Just barely, but I did.When I got home, I felt really sick, due to the fact that I was out in the sun for too long today. I was shivering all over, and felt so sick. That's another thing I hate, being allergic to the sun. It's a mild allergy, but I have a strong dislike for rashes (thank goodness that I had on extra sunscreen today) and I really hate feeling like I had a sun stroke after several hours out in the sun. I'm probably at risk for becoming one of the dark, vampiric people which never travel outdoors. I love being outside... it's just that the sun hates me with a passion.This entry risks being another novel, like the others, so I'm not going to write anything interesting: simply that I'm glad to be back at school. I missed it so much. Even if the new kids are completely confusing me. I didn't see it as an invasion last year (I was one of those bratty new kids myself). Now I'm a bratty returning student, and seeing new kids swarming everywhere is a little disturbing. I'll get used to it. Next June -- and then in a year I'll have to go through it again.~Jenn

Aggravation

Why did my parents hide the cell phone charger? What good does it do me to have a phone if I can't charge it back up when my batteries die? It's not like I ever use my phone, anyway, but it's nice to know that when I need to use it, it has some power left. Oy.On a side note, more aggravation is that my brother's friend is sleeping over, and they insisted on watching Football while I was eating dinner, instead of letting me finish watching a movie. I didn't get to eat dinner at the party, because the only things they had to eat were hot dogs and hamburgers. Right, how ghetto is that? So glad that I don't eat neither hot dogs nor hamburgers. And Amy's disgusting slob-of-a-boyfriend, Rich, ate all of the fruit. So when I got home at 11 and had not eaten for twelve hours, I was forced to watch the Bills vs. the Titans. AUGH!~JennHEY, this one was short! Be proud! Yes, I wrote one about six minutes ago, but that's okay.