Last Day

May. 31st, 2012 09:10 am
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So last night after wiping down whatever I could reach with Clorox wipes, I turned in my keys at Glen Ridge and drove home to my new place.
I have mixed feelings about leaving.  I'm leaving some nice people. Also, a lot of memories happened in that place. I lost two grandparents. I watched my first three seasons of Glee.  So many mornings watching Greg wake up and so many evenings him watching me fall asleep.
And then it was done. Lock the door, turn in the key.
Turn the key on some very hideous things. Rats. Mice. Roaches. Bedbugs. Someone throwing an effing large rock at Greg while he was jogging. Super thin walls. Dirty lobby with dead mice in it. Human feces in the laundry room. Muggings. Sexual assaults. Gang fights. Dumpster fires. Ghetto surroundings and ghetto behavior. Watching neighbors drop trou and relieve themselves on people's cars and the sides of buildings. A recession. Years of unemployment and severe depression. 
I look back at my darkened balcony and it almost seems sinister.
I can still close my eyes and all my furniture is still there and Greg turns around in his chair, smiling gently.
I still have that, without all the negative things.
I'm glad.
jenmccarroll: (Default)

(Jenny New Point Oh?)

So I'm starting a new health kick this week. Yesterday I began wearing a pedometer and was able to log more than 15K steps. Wow! I didn't even exercise, just went to work and the grocery store. We'll see what I do today!
Also, I'm kind of over giving up carbs because it was just leading to thinking of them as "forbidden" and would lead to me binge eating all night long. So this is my menu for today:
Breakfast: 1 slice of pumpernickel with 1 tbsp of all natural peanut butter
apple and banana slices (5.5g of fiber. Pretty sweet!)
Snack: raw green beans and hummus
Lunch: same as breakfast
Dinner: Quesabeanydillas - basically quesadillas with layers of garbanzo beans. (aka chick peas aka what's in hummus)
I'm kind of looking forward to eating this stuff, where as I wasn't looking forward to chicken or meal bars. I was doing Atkins wrong. Actually, what I'm eating now fits for Atkins phase 3 or 4 so it's not like I'm actually off the diet entirely. I've just stopped eating the fake food and the same boring thing every day.
I'm really looking forward to starting up Aqua Zumba soon. Also? I'm looking forward to trying to go to Church again. I have all these cooking supplies now so I could bring dinner stuffs. I think my faith crisis is finally subsiding. I notice I go through this every election year. All the hatred that spews from the highly conservative so-called Christian mouths terrifies me to no end. I become so frightened and it makes me re-examine my faith, which I find I do pretty well on my own. But it doesn't make me the most effective or strong church member, which I regret. Hey, we all struggle with doubt and fear and if you can't turn to your chosen family then what is there? Anyway, I feel like I've found my personal way again. I just hope that how I live my life shows the Christ in my heart and not the Santorum or Phelps. I love my atheists and am for gender and marriage equality just as much as I love praying and taking communion. I'm a hippie, sort of. Whatever.
Now that I'm moving ...
Once I'm settled I would truly love to have a "house" warming party. I fear that no one will come because a) I've never been a host before and b) I say no or make no shows to people's parties. Should I have a housewarming party? Should I? Will people come? What should I do for a housewarming party anyway?
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Saturday morning drive down to Oakland Hills in Arnold, and we park next to the leasing office.

Cherry blossoms rain their pink petals, pressing against our faces on our way to our new place.

Slip in the key and turn.

So many things our current apartment at Glen Ridge does not have. Concrete between floors. Stucco and brick outside, blocking noise. Huge, private balcony. Golf course view. Two bedrooms. A coat closet with its own light. A foyer with its own light. A mirror wall. A breakfast nook. Washer, dryer, dishwasher. Walk-in closets and a lit vanity in both the bathroom and master bedroom.

Neighborhood filled with birdsong and puppies instead of oompa-loompa music and racing engines.

Wildlife and fresh blooms instead of sad and wilted dead plants beneath a sign from the 1970s.

Dog walkers and golfers instead of gun shots and heavy swagger.

We wanted to stay there forever, but it was time to sign the lease. An hour later, lease signed, and wall colors picked out. They are painting our walls for us. Blue. =)

Excitement over a sushi lunch with my mother where Greg tells my mother he wants to marry me.

In an excited daze the rest of the weekend.

I guess dreams can come true.

We get access to our new place on Friday and can begin moving in then. I need to schedule BGE, Comcast, renters' insurance, UHaul trucks, and talk to friends to coordinate moving the big heavy stuff.

Overwhelmed with joy. We're going to live in a safe and quiet place.

And there's also big projects due and final exams and all that jazz.
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I love where my life is headed now.

I feel thankful that I am one of those kids who grew up around the time the Internet was becoming popular. I began using blogs back in 1998 as a tool to document nice moments in my life. I was sixteen and there were not many nice moments in my life.

At sixteen things were more immediate. My mother moved me across the state away from all of my friends at the same time that my father's fiance died of a heart attack. My blogging back then consisted of grief poetry. I truly thought I would feel devastated for the rest of my life. The grief was a black, lonely hole that snuck up on me in the night and ate my face. The it gets better campaign was not around, but I had an army of support in my family to let me know that was so. We sought help with in patient group therapy and within months I was ready to take on the world.

My blogging from then on was normal teenager blogging telling the world of summer romances and important moments, such as being present to spread the ashes of my dad's fiance with the company of her children and his new girlfriend. I am glad he waited so I got to be there, but in a way I wish he hadn't waited so he could find closure sooner.

Things got better, but I still had hard times. After graduating from high school I was undecided in my major but knew I needed a degree to get a job. I lived with my grandmother while completing my first year of school, and lived with my father while completing only half of my second year.

The thing about depression deferred is that it doesn't just get better. Being in inpatient care as a teen scared me into thinking that I needed to get well and fast. This meant that I had to stop feeling depressed. Not knowing how to do this, I deferred my feelings to get through the day and a few years later I was angry and scared at the idea of living and did not know why. All I knew is that I wanted to be away from people and places and be by myself. No matter how enticing the offer to go out, whether it's with a charming person or in a fun place, I found myself just wanting to go home and be left alone.

I spent the years between 20 and 26 completely shut away from people. Starting in 2002, I regularly argued with my friends or whoever I was dating at the time. I always said no. Afraid of everything, whether it was a trip to Florida or just Walmart, it all was a struggle. Soon I just stopped going out of the house altogether. Between 2003 and half of 2004, I dropped out school, quit my job, and just stayed home. I even moved to a basement so I would have less human interaction. I spent this time strength training and reading self-help literature. I occasionally went out with friends, but more and more the act of doing this really upset me.

Mid-2004 I got a job and this was fine for a while, but it didn't take long for me to self-destruct. I shut out everyone around me and when that job ended, Spring 2005 became a repeat of Spring 2004. Only this time it was harder because I felt stuck. I felt so stuck.

Finding another job, trying to break this cycle for good, I threw myself into my career. After trial and error, I soon found a routine that worked for me. Then slowly in 2007 I let people back into my life. I recall that it started with Greg's cast parties, and then the odd birthday celebration or Pampered Chef-type party as I decided to just say yes to everything. Soon I was even going out with acquaintances who thought of me as close friends. One even made me her bridesmaid although I'd only known her in person for five months.

It took me a while to learn about social rules and boundaries. Social awkwardness or even phobia was not something cutesy for me, but a symptom of severe depression and anxiety. Trial and error in my personal life was hard for me. Asking questions like, "Did she cancel on me because she actually has a headache, or is she just pretending to be my friend for some odd reason" became a regular occurrence. It was exhausting to be my friend as I was coming out of almost a decade-long funk and I kind of feel sorry for some of my more casual friends who were obviously so freaked out by this that they haven't bothered to respond to me online or on the phone for a very long time and have canceled all of our plans. Again, trial and error.

It is worth it, however. I soon learned that the funk doesn't completely go away and that I don't have to hide from society expecting it to. I can't believe all the awesome people in my life who are forgiving, understanding, fun, and just amazing to be around.

I have a man who emails me throughout the week who I met through one of Greg's plays and I sincerely consider us to be besties:

I have my LJ and Dreamwidth and Facebook friends, one of whom I rarely go a week without blathered about some random thing.

I have my wonderful high school friends, especially Liz, Linda, and Joey, as well as ones who are really really far away right now like my Roe <3.

I also have certain work colleagues who have kept me sane for years.

I have my lovely church people. And they will always be my church no matter where I move.

I have my family. I have so much family that I end up neglecting each and every member horrifically, but I am blessed with so much even IMMEDIATE family that it's almost impossible to stay in touch with just everyone. I have cousins on both side who I haven't even met, and countless sets of grandparents, almost all of whom are alive. NEVERMIND MY BOYFRIEND'S AWESOME FAMILY. I'm serious.

Just the amount of people I already have in my life is an exhausting number for a hermit-type person like myself. I would be lost without all of you.

I hope to be bringing awesome content here. I have trouble with feeling my feelings while doing what I want to do. I tend to either wait to do what I want to do until my feelings have subsided, or push my feelings aside and forget about them while I try to get on with my life until they fester and explode. I want to see me move to my new place while preoccupied with whatever feelings may arise. I want to see myself craft while battling with self-doubt, write papers while distracted, and get in shape while feeling disorganized. I want to go out with my friends even when I feel like a night in, and feel every feeling that comes my way.

Sure, it may get better. While it isn't getting better, though, I think I should have a plan.


Apr. 15th, 2012 12:25 pm
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For those of you who don't realize, I have a Dreamwidth account (jenmccarroll) and a LiveJournal account (whataboutjen). I joined Dreamwidth because I was invited, but I find myself posting identical updates or crossposts to both and reading the friends list to both. I don't abandon one or the other, feel free to add me on either.
jenmccarroll: (Default)
Not sure if you're here for this, but there is this awesome blog ( that has shown me the error of my ways.

As someone who has always been rather developed, I was pretty sure that DDD was the highest one could go in bra size unless you were some weird freak with a medical issue. (That wasn't offensive at all, no. Heh. Sorry.) That's a pretty ignorant stance, but even the department stores only seemed to have that size as the biggest in stock. The smallest band size with the biggest cup size that I could find anywhere was 40D, so I went with that and decided that it was the best I could do. Hey, if it's good enough for Gretchen, it's good enough for me, yes? As it was, my actual band size fluctuates between 36 and 38, and they have maybe 6 bras at DD or higher in that range and none of them were ever in stores ever.

So for months I looked like this in a bra:

Read more... )
(40D - Fashion Bug » Balconette Bra (35124))


But also not sexy. Not only did I have size boob and quad boob, I had no support in the band. I walked around with shoulder pain, back pain, and saggy chest. Just not attractive, no matter how much boob was on display within the bra. I also looked fat, because my waist was covered up and the bra made me look like I had armpit fat.

I started trying on dresses at the mall and all of them were overtaken by my chest. Not in a sexy Pamela Anderson way. More like Frosty the Snowman in a dress effect. I looked pregnant most of the time because if it fit my chest it covered up my waist entirely. It was this that made me ask WWCHD (What Would Christina Hendricks Do?)

I mean, where do people with these proportions find underwear and dresses?

According to Sophia Jenner, Ms. Hendricks is not wearing the right bra. Also, she might not even know her size!


So I asked myself, "Oh yeah, Sophia? Well what size are you if you're so perfect and where do you find your bras?"

Turns out she's 30GG (a 30J here in the States, gang).

I was shocked. Shocked! And why? Because Sophia knows how to work 'em. She knows how to find a bra that is pretty, keeps her supported, and keeps her in check. She doesn't look over the top. I was also shocked to find they even make bras that size.

It is because of this lady that I was finally able to go bra shopping and find something with full coverage for the first time ever:

Read more... )
(38GG - Elomi » Hermione (8120))

And okay, it's kind of Cafeteria Lady-ish, but it's a start. It's comfortable. It covers me. It supports me. It lifts. I'm not spilling out everywhere. Also? I feel thinner. There are inches of tiny, 32 inch waist beneath my chest that haven't seen the light of day in some time and I like that.

Now that I finally, finally know my size and that there are a variety of bras out there, all it takes is for me to get over the sticker shock of paying beaucoup bucks or an eye for bargains. I can buy lacy ones, sheer ones, polka dot ones and all kinds of crazy amazing styles and brands. I can tell my Gil Chestertons YOU CAN BE PRETTY FINALLY! YOU CAN BE PRETTY LIKE YOU WANTED.

Thank you Sophia for helping me see the error of my ways!

Faking It

Apr. 8th, 2012 03:05 pm
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I'm not sure I am living up to the name of this blog, with either the kissing or the telling. It's more like little kissing and hardly any telling to speak of.

That has little to do with this next part.

A year ago, around this time, I had been a month into the Atkins diet and was loving the results. I had lost almost 30 lbs overall and 18 lbs in a month. I felt good, really good. I felt confident in school, my health, and my friendships. I was digging my way out of a depression that had swallowed me whole.

Two months later, my grandmother ... not just a grandmother to me. One of my primary guardians for years as a child ... and nothing against my parents. I have great parents. It's just that my grandmother was very hands-on and I lived with her several times throughout my childhood. Well, anyway, she had a stroke. Not from being old, not from her lifestyle, but from a disease she was born with. It lead her prematurely into nursing homes and it hurts. It's like she aged 20 years in a day. While I'm thankful we didn't lose her, it's just hard to see her lose almost all her freedom. And I know it's been even more difficult for her to have lost that freedom.

At first I dealt with this hurt by taking even better care of myself. I worked out with one of my favorite people, Liz. I went to church with her along with some of the best people I've ever met. They are my family and I belong to them, even if I haven't been in months now. But I was active back then. I even saw some of my other friends. I had a life. I lost a heck of a lot of weight too! I got down to 173.4 lbs. I was starting to get abs. It was pretty boss.

And then the depression came back. It started in September. Constant. Hurting. Constant crying for no reason. I stopped wanting to go out of the house. It only got worse.

I tried everything to get it to stop. Medication. Meh, that has kept me from completely going over the edge but I'm still not functioning. I tried some alcohol, but could barely drink a drop before feeling like a complete idiot. I tried binge eating but it just made me sick. And fat. I'm 194 lbs today. I even got up to 200 yesterday, but that was after eating everything in the world until breathing was too hard. I tried compulsive shopping (remember when I was obsessed with wedding stuff? It was just a shopping thing. Once I tried on stuff, I realized this wasn't filling the hole in my heart) and it's just not bringing back that lust for life.

I went back and forth with religious doubt too. Do I love Jesus? Am I an atheist? My faith was all screwed up and for those of you who know what you believe and are sure beyond sure of those beliefs ... I envy you. It sucks when you have Jesus in your heart but not in your life and when you've lost that faith that He's right there with you in your pain and your pleasure. It's hard to wake up one day and ask yourself, "What if I'm just bullshitting myself into believing this?"

I love people of all beliefs whether you are anti-theist or pro-theist ... as long as you're not harming people without remorse I support what you do within reason. But for me, I am a Christian and I need my faith and when it is hiding from me? I feel like a phony when I take communion and blessings and prayers and don't have my faith backing me up. I feel like I am doing something wrong.

Most of the time I am too ashamed of who I am to blog anymore. A few blogs ago I was bitching about Relay for Life (something that was the highlight of my year last year) ... and now I regret it. Not just because my friends read it, but because it was a temporary feeling that is no longer true. Now I want to do Relay for Life ... if I could just get off the damned couch and stop feeling sorry for myself.

I think the apex of my depression came on February 29th, when an ambulance rushed me to the ER with a migraine and a blood pressure of 195/125. I was dehydrated. I really just needed jugs of water and a dark room, but my job said I had to go to the emergency room so there I was. They gave me painkillers which caused relentless vomiting and I got a CT scan and a spinal tap which showed nothing and just made my mother worry and cry. I was laid up for days with weariness and panic afterwards. I had never felt so useless in my life.

More than a month later and things are better. I am doing better in school and feel OK physically. I have been afraid to speak about how I am feeling, but I think it is time to stop faking it and just be.
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For the last few years Greg and I have been living in a one-bedroom apartment in Glen Burnie with a very low rent. Cost-wise it is perfect. We can afford all the things we like to do and eat and buy and we're mostly happy. However, the complex itself is sub-par. For some reason everyone around here is really inconsiderate and self-centered. Not only do they blast music from cars no matter the hour when every apartment seems to overlook the parking lot, but someone actually pooped in the building laundry room. Classy. Also, there is a lot of crime. In the last year alone we've had a mugging, a sexual assault, a drive-by shooting, two car break-ins ... and that's just the stuff I remember off of the top of my head. Two weeks ago someone had a drag out screaming drunken fight in the parking lot that ended with them busting the windows out someone's vehicle, and the glass stayed there on the parking lot for two weeks. Awesome.

The apartments in Arnold we want to move to are super expensive, and I hate to blame my crappy neighborhood's behavior on lack of money, but things are a little bit better there. Little bit nervous about money, though. Plus, we haven't been guaranteed a room yet, so cross your fingers. We income qualify but I haven't heard anything yet that mentions seeing where we might be moving.
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As a long fan of Glee, I have been thinking really hard on whether to keep watching after the current hiatus. That is a lot coming from me. I have been watching Glee since May 2009. Sucked in by the promise of Jane Lynch non sequiturs and singing through the promos, I found myself hooked with the hilarity of the kids' back stories and the adorableness of Emma's crazy awesome outfits and genius of her pamphlets. Dazzled by showtunes and obsessed with Finchel, I found myself fangirling over guest stars and shipping Brittana. It didn't matter that there were fake pregnancies and over the top antics, I needed to know what happened to these kids.

Fast forward to near the end of Season Three, and I can see exactly when Glee started its downward spiral. Season One, episode 14. It just wasn't the same, wasn't as enjoyable. Too many storylines, too many new characters, and not enough awesome. Many of my friends jumped ship after Hello, and at the end of Season One I was so depressed by their Regionals loss and stupid resolution of that storyline that it was all I could do to give Season Two the benefit of the doubt.

Glee started to embarrass me. Non-fans began watching it with the disappointment that was Brittany/Britney and the horror that was Rocky Horror Glee Show. I began actively rooting for the end of Finchel every episode. The Warblers kept me from dropping the show completely along with the gay bullying storyline and the development of Santana's character. Season Two, with all of its obvious fail, at least carried story archs that began in Season One, with very satisfying twists and turns and kept me hooked. And the music? Was amazing.

While Season Three has had its glorious numbers, I spent most of the season waiting for it get ... well ... good. Glee ran out of gimmicks to draw me in and got desperate in its writing. I don't enjoy the character inconsistencies, or the insensitive handling of important issues. What I mean is that what was the point of giving Quinn pink hair or having her try to steal a baby, or turning Finn into an offensive douche in Santana's outing storyline?


It's like they finally finished painting their Mona Lisa and at the last minute decided to illustrate her picking her nose and eating it.

Glee, you don't need a gimmick. Singing is supposed to be your gimmick. You've gone from satire to actual preachyness, and you're doing it wrong.

I am just so undecided. I adored this show. I still adore its cast and its history, but I am genuinely worried about what its turning into.

Eight days left in this hiatus ... help me decide.

Are you watching Glee when it comes back on?
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Shopoholic Sunday is something I just made up a second ago because I just spent a crap ton of money on stuff I need or have been obsessed with for a while now. Before I get into that though, I have something to say.

I don't really feel like going through what I've been through the last month or so. I also don't feel like going through what I'm still going through. I have my good days and bad days, and sometimes it is all I can do to function. Getting back on track is difficult. I'm still so tired all of the time and I don't want to cook or exercise. However, I can sit up and I can use the internet. I can watch TV. I made it to work every single day last week and only had a few meltdowns, mostly as a direct result of one of my crazy coworkers who enjoys blowing up at me in a psychotic haze whenever she's slightly in a hurry.

So? I bought some stuff.

Here's all the crap I bought )
Well, I'm renting the last one. Way better neighborhood ... no sex offenders or anything.

There are a lot of things I need to do. I need to pack, I need to do homework, I need to join this gym near my job except it's $60 a month and omg.

I think Greg got a car or is getting a car or something.

I'm going to try really hard to be professional at work, but I think I'm done being bullied. I'm working really hard at not being too stunned to say anything when someone is screaming at me at work or says something backhanded and rude. Otherwise, I'm going to keep on keeping on so I fit in the dress I bought and get some more A's like I got on my midterm. :)
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So ... this happened in my hometown yesterday:

As someone who is terrified of crowds, I still wish I could have been there.

As someone who was bullied in middle school by being called a lesbian (I didn't know what one was really until about 10th grade ... talk about sheltered), I continue to be confused on why bigotry against the LGBT community occurs. What if I had been a lesbian? So what? What does that even mean if it's used as a tool to bully others? To me, saying, "God hates [gay people]" (I refuse to use the F word) makes just as much sense as, "God hates paisley patterns" or "God hates Care Bears." It's just nonsense to me. I'm not a paisley patterned lesbian Care Bear, then fine, but if I am does that mean I'm supposed to be offended?

I once brought this up in church and ... well it didn't go over the way I'd hoped. It's still such a polarizing issue for people who care very much about it. Not because of any kind of bigotry, but because people get emotional and teary and passionate because they really, really, care.

As someone who feels attracted (but never admitted it to myself until a few years ago) to all genders but has only held romantic relationships with boys and is currently in a lifetime partnership with one, I ask myself all sorts of questions. What if Greg was a girl? Would my church still accept and love me? (yes, but not everyone can say that) Would my coworkers not want to be my friend anymore? Would my family still love me? Would I be denied housing or other opportunities? The idea of that scares me. The idea of that happening to others scares me. That is why each time I see same-sex people reunited when coming home from Iraq and such, running toward each other, jumping into each other's arms, tears, joy, full on embrace ... it just feels amazing to see that. And I get angry that this was ever frowned upon.

The other issue that concerns me is the whole religion thing. What do non-Christian people feel when the WBC's religion is shoved down their throat? Are they like, "Hi, I'm Muslim or whatever so you can go away now." And we all know that many atheists are all like, "Seriously? Seriously, you're going to not only live your life by some odd book that I personally believe is not inspired by a deity, but you're going to translate it in a way that spreads ignorance and hate? Really, WBC?"

This is America, a diverse society where some are congruent with the dominant culture and some are not. I really find it hard to be an American when a group is allowed to call hate speech a religion and then is able to turn it around and call it peaceful protesting.
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I am very blessed to have a lot of people I love and a lot of people who love me.

It is a gift I haven't earned but have nevertheless been bestowed.

Sometimes I don't do things in a way that I think pleases others. Sometimes the following applies to me:

I am not a good housekeeper. I leave dishes laying around, forget to clean up after myself, and just randomly throw crap on the floor.

I snore.

I cancel plans at the last minute. Sometimes I can't handle the stress of living and the fact that I have to actually get dressed and be somewhere and have company scares me very much.

I don't answer emails or messages. Maybe I'm worried you're mad at me for doing so, which makes me take even longer getting back to you. Maybe I don't know what to say or don't want to share what is going on with me.

I keep my phone turned off. I hate phones. I don't like phone conversations ever. I even don't have a phone at work to answer in the last week which fills me full of joy.

Sometimes I am noisy or annoying. I say inappropriate things. I behave inappropriately. I can be offensive and irritating towards others. Sometimes we're just not going to get along. That's life.

I spend too much time focusing on others who do not care about me whatsoever. I have sent more emails and letters to a person in my life in the last year who has not responded to a single one of them than I have to my own father. It's just that I know what I want to say to people who have no interest, but when it comes to my lovely father I am at a loss for words.

I am a hoarder. I get these weird attachments to inanimate objects that I don't use and don't want to give away or trash, so they just end up taking up space and cause me misery. Only an intervention will help.

I am a procrastinator. I am that person who will be late for everything.

I am bad at my priorities and life choices. Nobody is wowed that I go to school part time and work full time as a clerical person or that I live in a crappy one-bedroom apartment in Glen Burnie. Nobody wants that life.

Sometimes I rather sleep or daydream than do what I am supposed to do. Your rally or charity or 5K is getting in the way of my staring at the ceiling time.

Sometimes I take the side of others in a way with which others might disagree. I am a flaming liberal. Get over it. Stop talking to me about Rick Santorum, because it just makes me see red. Stop acting like everyone is a Christian or a non-Christian because nobody is the same in all ways.

Sometimes I stay too long in situations that are unhealthy for me. Did I mention the crappy one-bedroom in a town I don't like? I've lived there forever. Ugh.

Sometimes I hog all the Cheetos.

Sometimes I am boring.

Sometimes I don't care about things you want me to care about, whether it's your baby or how to pronounce a word. I don't want to go to Relay for Life meetings. I don't like Relay for Life, but does that matter? I rather visit sick people in the hospital. Why aren't we visiting sick people in hospitals because that is more fun than walking alone at 3pm in the rain which sucks big time.

I am definitely not there enough for the people in my life. My friend Linda's husband is in the hospital and have I even called her? I should be there, running to her house, making sure she has clean clothes and meals and things. Instead I am on the couch, finishing off Cheetos I'm not supposed to have.

Somehow, despite all these faults, my church and friends and family still love me and for that I am grateful. I am grateful for the unlimited chances I have been given, knowing I will squander them and fail again and again.

Thank you.
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It's no secret that I hardcore stan Zooey Deschanel.

I first noticed her in her first scene in Yes Man. When she rode up in that motorcycle, whipped off that helmet with the googly eyes, and that raven cascade of hair floated in a cloud around her tiny shoulders and pretty face, I just about died and became her slave fan forever.

As I noticed her in more films and shows, I did not become annoyed by her, I did not become jealous of her, nor did I want to stop watching her. I just fell more and more in love with watching her. Whatever she's in, even if she's drowning kittens, my eyes fill up with love and I squeal, "I love her! She's so awesome! Can I adopt her? I want to take her home!"

More and more of my time is spent perusing Tumblr, news articles, for anything and everything Zooey.

So when she got her own Twitter, I nearly died. When she got a Tumblr, I died again. Then HelloGiggles, then New Girl, and I just exploded into smithereens.

And as I heard people criticize her, I wasn't offended at first. I figured not everyone liked the same things, and at first people weren't really being a dick about it. They just didn't like her, and that was okay.

Then when New Girl came along, the criticism came in droves. Not only this, they had all these weird excuses besides just "not liking her." They tried to tie it into feminism or acting your age or saying she was trying too hard and on and on.

I watched the first episode of New Girl ... and just about died. Okay, hi, this girl is me. I randomly sing. I randomly dance. I like simple pleasures, and I have a large enthusiasm for life. I look for the good in people, and I am a bit too trusting. I ask for help when I need it, and I enjoy doing things that give me feelings of nostalgia. My breakups tend to be messy and I tend to look bad when they happen. Zooey Deschanel, the most beautiful girl, the girl I stan hardcore for, is playing me.

However, not only is she playing me, but the internet hates her.

Aww, the internet hates me. :-(

Apparently then, I'm too quirky, I try too hard, I act too childish, I dress weird, and I am an affront to feminism.

The cool thing is that my friends who watch the show love the show. Which feels good because my friends love me. One of them even says the show makes her miss me a lot.

So even if the internet hates me, at least my friends love me. Really, isn't that all that matters?

Therefore, I would like to say whatever to the reasons people hate Zooey Deschanel's Jess Day. I am a capable, functioning person in society. I have a 3.8 GPA, I receive top evaluations at my job, and I am awesome at many things. My love for kittens and enthusiasm for life may put others off, but there are many different types of people out there and not everyone is going to get along all the time. Girls like Zooey are not out there to say you have to love kittens and wear vintage dresses in order to be valued as a woman. They are not there to say you cannot be a woman without being clumsy or young. However sometimes women love kittens, wear vintage, are clumsy, young, and beautiful. Sometimes they are also opinionated, competitive, and get things done. And when you criticize someone's personality or character as being an affront to feminism, then you're being irrational. You're also being a dick about it.
jenmccarroll: (Default)
There are things that I like about me and there are things I don't like about me.

We're going to focus on something I don't like about me.

I don't like that I'm not very close to my dad.

It's not that we don't get along. We get along swimmingly. It's not that we have nothing in common. We're actually quite alike--too much alike. We're always waiting for the other one to call. We both think antiques are neat and we have creative streaks.

If I had to choose between my dad and my mom for the most stress-free day, I'd choose my dad. He's very laid back, very quiet, very relaxed and cool. Not aloof at all, but comfortable and sweet and sensitive and opinionated. And we'd spend the whole day together with very few words, mostly just laughter and either sharing a drink, exploring the woods, or him teaching me some neat crafting trick. I swear he never runs out of DIY projects, but he always seems to only work on one at a time which is impressive.

It's just I never call him. He calls me, but just a couple times a year or so. We both think the other one is too busy.

Mainly I feel like I neglect him more than he neglects me.

That leads me to the other thing I don't like about myself ... I have a fear and great dislike of telephones.

That's not even an exaggeration. I'll answer if it's my mother only because I know if I don't answer she'll assume I'm dead in a ditch somewhere. Otherwise, I don't answer. In fact, sometimes I let my phone go dead for a week and hide it under the couch.

It's not even that I ignore calls on purpose. It's usually that I miss calls and then I have to call the person back immediately and it really just depends how long ago was the call. If the call was more than a week ago, I don't call back. But if it was less than a minute ago I dial back right away.

I just have this weird post-traumatic thing with phones. I was shopping with my mother one day at age 16 and it was wonderful and perfect. We came home and I answered the phone and it was my grandmother. Something was wrong and she refused to tell me what and demanded to talk to my mother. My mother grabbed the phone, ran to the screened in porch, locked the door, and stayed out there with the phone and her husband for an hour.

During that hour I was certain someone important had died.

I was right.

However, the way my mom told me, at first I mistakenly thought she said my Dad had died.

I fainted, screaming. I mean I fell right on my ass and knees and lost my breath wailing.

It was his girlfriend, actually, but it took five minutes for that to sink in and well ... I hate phones.

It's odd because I don't have this problem as much at work.

Anyway I have two missed calls on my phone and feel this odd trepidation for no reason and don't want to call anyone back.

And that's what I hate about me, the end!

In other news, it snowed today:

jenmccarroll: (Default)
Author's note: I am not reviewing a device, simply the act of this form of hair removal.

I read on Squawkfox that epilators are the way of the future or something. Buy one and you never have to buy a razor again and the hair grows back less edgy.

I've always enjoyed tweezing hair, but the best part about tweezing is that you can take a break between hairs. Epilators rip out a bunch of hairs at once, so it feels like something is burning or biting the crap out of your leg. They do not feel like a soft caress. They feel like a mild murder. However you pretty much know when all the long hairs are gone because that's when your leg stop feeling like it's caught in a bear trap. Or maybe it just goes numb after a while, like a victim who loses its spirit.
jenmccarroll: (Default)
Last year around this time I was in a really good, positive place.

Several pounds heavier, far more self-confident, far more at peace.

I had fewer worries. I felt like I had a plan and that my ducks swam in a row.

Within a few months I was on my way to a happier, healthier me.

I feel like everything fell awry when my grandmother had her stroke this spring. Suddenly everything felt more urgent, scarier. Life was mixed with the desperate joy of not completely losing her and the horrific stress of realizing the full effect of the stroke on our family.

And it pulled me to pieces.

I start this new year not in a happy place and no specific goal in mind. I'm just glad to have gotten here. So what if I am not well, if I am not happy. I am here. I am strong. I know who is the most important and what my priorities are. I am here, if in pieces.

I may be scattered, but all of me is here.


jenmccarroll: (Default)
In my dream it was early summer and our bare legs were dangling off the edge of a moss cliff overlooking the family farm. The farm was yours and we were holding hands. We did not discuss your wife or my boyfriend other than to say they understood we missed each other too much not to get back in contact, even if just as friends. We wandered the land as if it had always belonged to us. The earth, the soil, the greenery a part of our DNA. We had goats, sheep, two cows, a pig, and chickens.

I woke up and wondered who that boy was in the dream, where was the wilderness, what that was. The boy had the face of someone I dated once. Our first date was on a family farm with horses and lots of green land and rain. There were no cliffs but plenty of places to sneak off hand in hand for long heart to hearts under the summer sky. I learned later he wasn't as into nature as I was. Rather than a farm boy he was a computer geek hipster punk.

During one of our last fights he actually scoffed at me, "What, you just want to walk outside all day?" in his snarkiest tone. We had been indoors together all day and were going to spend the night indoors with his friends and I was bored beyond belief. This boy who is more into science and technology rather than the smell of the air or the feeling of the sunbeams breaking through the clouds, is not someone I love now. Also, in real life he does not miss me, nor I him, because in real life we have nothing in common and nothing to talk about. Our last conversation was full of awkward pauses and deep disinterest. The boy in my dream is completely different than his real life counterpart. The boy in my dream is the boy I thought I was in a relationship with but wasn't. He was my fantasy and delusion. It's very sad, actually. I feel sorry for his real life counterpart who wasn't loved for who he actually was at all.

For a minute after awakening I longed for that reconnection, that fantasy of being with the person to whom I first truly gave my heart. In that dream I was so happy and content and young. Then I realized in real life I was also happy. In real life I do have a boy that loves animals and wants to walk outside all day. Maybe I didn't give my heart to him first, maybe we don't have a farm, but we have each other. I want to sit with him all day long talking, and often do. My mother considers this boy a part of the family and I am a part of his. We spent the last two days talking to his parents about buying a house in their neighborhood. They let me sleep in their house and eat their food like it was mine. I have a family instead of a fantasy. I have a life many dream about.

It is odd. Most of my dreams are about Greg and our life together. Why did I dream this then? There is a part of me that cannot let go of people. This part of me does not take no for an answer and clings to the past. This part of me also lives deeply in the past and deeply in denial. It has a very selective memory and taunts me with half truths and shiny objects. In my love life I have everything I've ever wanted and more, yet my dreams taunt me with someone from who I want nothing. So thoroughly swept away by expectation when the reality is worth so much more swoon-worthy.

jenmccarroll: (Default)
So I fell into the rabbit hole of depression and have I climbed out? Not sure.

I have major things coming up and they all cost money.

1. Car--Greg needs a new car. He's thinking of getting one in March.
2. House--we're thinking of buying a house. We'll be talking to someone soon to see what we qualify for but we already have one in mind. I hate that I have my hopes up for something that might not come to pass.
3. Student loans--I need to take out a bigger loan for living expenses as I'm planning on doing an unpaid internship for three years. This might be something that doesn't come to pass if I buy a house. :(
4. Engagement ring--Yep, still obsessed with stupid wedding stuff like engagement rings. And while I've decided I'm just doing a backyard affair with maybe a dozen family members, I'm still stuck on the idea of this stupid pretty moissanite.
5. Gym membership--I found a new gym I quite like. It's $10.00 a week. Yikes!!!
6. Lasik--I really would like to stop wearing glasses and contacts and be able to actually see.

This when other people can't afford to eat. I'm kind of ashamed, to be quite honest. Yes, Greg needs a car, but do I really need the other things? Do we need a house when we have an apartment? Do I need to get a degree in Social Work when I could go for something I hate but is practical such as business? Is it shameful to want the engagement ring I want when I could get a perfectly nice ring for so much less? I could exercise for free outside. I have a perfectly nice pair of glasses that were plenty expensive.

Well, the house we'd be getting an unbelievable deal on and I have been living in an apartment since I was nineteen and I'm tired of it. And. Heh. As for the social work degree, while I do love the subject and am committed to staying in school, I'm torn. I'm not sure I can afford to do an unpaid internship 2-3 times a week. As for the engagement ring, I've wanted a ring like this forever. The lasik surgery? I've wanted since I was eleven.

These are things I've wanted for some time, but all of sudden I've run out of patience and want all of it at once. Obviously I'm out of my mind if I think I could afford to have all of it at once.

The lasik is going to have to wait. What else can wait? The engagement ring. As much as I've been wedding obsessed it's just jewelry. Greg and I have been together long enough without it and we'll continue to be together without it! (The five year old in me is having such a tantrum and wants her silly piece of jewelry.) The house and car are not going to wait ... so we're going to strapped for cash for a very long time. The gym membership might have to wait.

The degree is causing a state of panic. It's a bad feeling to be at crossroads when it comes to career decisions. I have a passion for the education, and I know that if I do the field work I will graduate with the required hours to get my license and a good job. I have a year before I even need to apply to field. It's not something I have to decide right now. In the meantime, who says I cannot double my major and take other classes until I can afford to do the unpaid internship?

Here have a holiday greeting:


Dec. 11th, 2011 01:57 pm
jenmccarroll: (Default)
If I had a bike, I would want it to glow in the dark.

(images is totes stolen)
jenmccarroll: (Default)
I backslid last week, joining the rest of the country in our patriotic duty of committing every deadly sin to commit in order to give thanks.

I'm not sure this counts as backsliding as I've always been the queen of double entendre, but I had the best time watching A Dirty Shame with some of my friends this weekend during a study break. Hailing as one of the weirdest John Waters movies that I have ever seen, it boasts many awesome Baltimore landmarks and memories of controversy around the time it was filmed. After seeing it you'll wonder if you've hit your head and slipped into another dimension.

First there were the pies. Oh the pies. And cakes. In the last week I’ve had orange cake, an éclair, pumpkin pie, cherry pie, mince pie, éclair pie. I’ve had countless Hershey’s Kisses, Almond Joys, Snickers, Reese’s Pieces, Tootsie Rolls, Juju Bees, sodas, ice creams, popsicles … not to mention stuffing, potatoes, turkey, crab cakes … I think I ate enough food for one month and it was incredible.

Back in first grade we learned the difference between needs and wants, and in psychology we learned about Maslow's Hiearchy of Needs.Technically nowhere on this list is any of the items I've pinned on my board.

None of this is on my pinterest! (Stolen from Wikipedia)

No diamond or gemstone rings, no foofy dresses, no decorations, no sumptuous meals or experiments. However dreaming of what I don't need fulfills my creativity and spontaneity needs, so perhaps I'm not being greedy when I'm buying yet another pair of shoes, silly necklace, or personalized deck of cards with my chosen photograph printed on them.

And exercise? I can’t remember the last time I did a pushup before today. Earlier I completed only 9 out of my goal of 55 pushups and I felt like I was winded and going to die of death. Cardio-wise I’m still very strong, but I could work out more, definitely. hen I got sick I grew into a habit of sitting on my duff and doing nothing. It was awesome to loaf and recover. Well I have recovered and I am super-behind in school and in my weight loss goals.

The thing about weight loss is that I don’t care. If I am fat, then so what? If I am thin, cool, but I don’t need to be thin to be happy. I just don’t care. I look good whether I am fat or thin. What do I care about? Being healthy and feeling good. I have a lot of things I want to get done and I can’t do them if I’m wallowing around and eating crap. I have no desire to have strokes, diabetes, heart disease, colon cancer, or osteoporosis.

Greg and I were on a date at the Cheesecake Factory (more gula!) and were seated by a table with this blonde Snooki look-a-like who was yammering on about the most tedious subjects. Loudly. When she got to her tanning regimen, I wanted to throw butter at her. Skin cancer runs in my family rampantly and while a little bit of sun is awesome I believe there is no excuse for endulging in the tanning bed. There is just nothing more stupid to me than this.

I found the most awesome and hilarious engagement ring website. On Ring Envy women and men share photos and deets on their large diamond or gemstone rocks for others to click "envy." Whosoever collects the most envies wins. However, some of these rings are just grotesque, and the hatefully catty comments jealous readers leave are hysterical.

I also found a new love for a shoe known as Fluevogs.I WILL HAVE ALL THE MONEY AND BUY ALL THE FLUEVOGS FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER! BAH!

I could talk about how superior I feel to others who do stupid things like tan or buy grotesque engagement rings. Or I could share yet more photo projects I worked on Shutterfly. Those things are boring to others after a while though so I thought I'd share a nice photo of the other meaning of pride:

(Stolen from Cheezburger)

I take pride that I done stole found me a pride! Woo!

To get back on track, I have a plan! SEVEN DEADLY PLANS. OOOOOOH.
1. Politeness-To keep from being lewd and distasteful, I will try to burp more quietly and say excuse me. What?

2. Low-carb-I am back on the low-carb bandwagon until actual Christmas parties or actual Christmas day. Wait until a real celebration to enjoy something sweet.

3. Buy presents for others. I have a really bad habit of using all of these shopping deals for myself. Share the wealth!

4. Workout Plan-4 Key moves to do 55 times, 3 days a week: Jumping Jacks, squats, push-ups, and crunches. Walk for the other days.

5. ROAD RAGE-For every stupid holiday driver I flip off, honk at, or yell at I will say five nice things about them to counteract it.

6. Make a Christmas List--Put to bed feelings of wishing and hoping and just ask for what I want!

7.KITTIES--We hope to be getting a kitty for Christmas. This means running by the lease office, filling out paperwork, and doing all the stuff one needs to do to adopt a kitty from a shelter.

I think that's it. I've come up with the deadliest list ever, and nothing else possibly more deadly could be added to it. OR CAN IT?


Hi!. I'm Jen, fiance to Greg, college student, and future crazy cat lady. I love makeovers, decorating, collecting random facts, trivia, playing show and tell, camp movies, shopping, libraries, random singing, random dancing, snuggling, and loafing. Oh, and watching Glee.

Greg has been my partner in crime for nine years. I've known him since high school; he is my soulmate and best friend. He's an actor, a playwright, a poet and works in data entry. We spend most of our time laughing hysterically. We're thinking about getting married sometime this decade and adopting our first cat sometime in the next few weeks.


jenmccarroll: (Default)

May 2012

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