Love...Or Something Like It

For many a century, men and women have poised their pens to write their significant others beautiful words professing their deepest affections to them. Soldiers wrote their sweethearts love letters, sent from all around the globe, Lord Byron wrote such lovely lines like "She walks in beauty, like the night." I imagine the recipients of these messages maybe sighed a little "Awww," and got the butterflies in their stomach regions. Apparently, these sorts of things have made people swoon or something like that (or at least, we seem to think they are romantic in the movies and such), but fast forward to the 21st century, and the translation seems to have been lost, especially when using facebook as a means of communication.

Take for example my friend who just received a facebook message from a young gentleman she met a few years ago. The message professed his deepest love for her--and by the sounds of it, he is head over heels, I'm talking like depths-of-the-ocean deep. While I'm sure there are many people who might appreciate the romance and passion, it didn't make a whole lot of sense to us. Do we have hearts of stone?! Have we been so jaded that we cannot appreciate the "old fashioned" ways of communicating romance any more? Nope. The message was terrible really, and dare I say EXTREMELY cheesy. Now mind you, she has not seen this person in two years, so it seemed to come out of nowhere, and was perhaps a "bit much"--you really do have to keep context in mind with these sorts of things--but at least there's no guessing about how he feels, which is a rarity these days I suppose. God bless him, he tried, but he really should have consulted with a friend prior to sending this sucker (in my opinion)! I hope it does not appear that I am making fun, as I acknowledge it takes a lot of guts to put your heart out there, but...it was too grand of a blog-writing opportunity to pass up, so you'll have to forgive me. These are some ACTUAL lines from said poem:

"You eyes are as bright as the star." I am not sure if this was supposed to "the star" like "the sun" or "the star(s)" as in plural, and proof reading apparently did not occur

"Your skin is as soft as a cotton sweater."

"Your eyes are as bright as diamonds." We decided this might be acceptable if this line came attached to a box with a diamond IN it.

"I want to serve you like a king serves his queen." No comment.

"I wanted to make love to you but I had severe lower back pain." Again, no comment. The downside was I actually DID have lower back pain yesterday, causing me to want to giggle and pop pills all at the same time--it was a very paradoxical range of emotions.

While it was agreed that some young woman somewhere might greatly appreciate this gesture, or I imagine if it had been written 100 years ago or so, but we established that this was fairly "gag-worthy." However, we seized this opportunity to write some great lines of our own. Feel free to use on your significant other, you don't even need to give us credit:

"Your mind is as sharp as my best cutlery."

"Your teeth are as white as my most bleached undergarment."

"You smell so good you could replace my febreeze."

"Your eyes are as shiny as an egg yolk and your spirit is just as delicious."

"Your joy is as bright as a bouquet of buttercups on a fresh spring day. With butterflies swirling around them."

"My heart bursts for you like the bubble I am currently blowing with my gum."

"Your smile is as bright as the hamburgler and you steal my heart."

"My love for you shines so bright it can outshine any Nor'Easter blackout."

"My love for you is like a 40--it's always a party!"

"You are the pearl I want in my oyster."

Frankly I see some gems for Valentine's Day. Let me be clear: if you are out there, young suitor, and would like to write me a song, HANDWRITE a letter professing your love for me, the things you appreciate about me, I would certainly love that a lot. But please make sure that it does not come through any social networking sites, and does not create various analogies about parts of me to inanimate objects, and should not be cheesy lines like, "Can I see your tag? Because you MUST have been "Made in Heaven." No, I was not, I was made on earth, and we both know this. Perhaps, "Hi, I am ___________. You seem really hilarious and delightful. Would you like to talk?" My response will most likely be very positive, I can assure you.

Adventures in Mystic

I had all the intentions in the world of writing all about my perfect fall activities as of late. I was going to post some delightful pictures of the orange leaves adorning campus, the Pumpkin Fest, me in a warm woolen hat and mittens, a soccer game I went to...I even had some funny lines in my head like I've "fall-en" for autumn. Okay, that was terrible and no one should be so subject to such horrible pun-nery, and I should have higher standards for myself as a writer. But the point was that, according to my calculations I had a solid four to six weeks left to write about my love of fall. And then Mother Nature decided to dump six to ten inches of snow all over my plans, my autumn, and virtually the entire state of Connecticut.

wasn't overly concerned when I had heard that we were going to get snow. In my opinion, the Connecticut weather team hasn't exactly had the best track record when it comes to meteorology prediction. But everyone has to start somewhere. And they decided go start by being extremely accurate. To quote one of the RA's, "I went to sleep on October 29 and woke up on December 24." Now I want some presents. And unfortunately this particular snow storm, because it came so early, wreaked havoc. To quote one student in particular, the town looked like, "there had been a battle and we lost.". And then the power went out. Awesome.

To make a very long story short (we had to evacuate the campus), I am not writing this blog from West Hartford, but from Mystic, Connecticut. My friend lives here and so graciously let me stay here and use things like electricity. Mystic is the perfect town to be in for Halloween. I feel like it is straight out of the Halloween classic "Hocus Pocus," though without the wizardry. Beautiful quaint New England homes, tiny bookstores, COFFEE SHOPS (and you know how I feel about that!). And I get to watch Glee at its regularly scheduled time, which is awesome because i don't normally get to because of class. Its the little things. And guess what-it's still fall here!

I've been in Mystic with my coworker/friends with three small children, so needless to say we have had some great adventures, though they are still holding out for Chuck E. Cheese. I got to go trick or treating for the first time in oh, I don't know seven years, maybe eight, which made me feel oddly old and young at the same time. I also got to dress up as a pepperoni pizza slice which was ironic because I do not eat meat. Today, I made chocolate chip pancakes for the kiddies, and I got to go to the Mystic Seaport (picture to come) where the kids made banjos while Mom was concerned about them playing the banjos non stop later on. Mystic Seaport is this little historical place where they have boats and horses and carriages...you know like maybe like it was back in the 1800's when they didn't have power. It felt oddly familiar, especially since I had walked to my car holding a candle the night prior. Additionally, at the Mystic Seaport we had the opportunity to go into an old school Blacksmith shop where members of the Coast Guard were learning how to do whatever Blacksmith-y type things. Lets just say it was hot in that room for a number of reasons, and made me seriously re-evaluate living in a land locked town. All in all we've had a great time, though admittedly this has solidified my commitment to not bringing children into the world, but conversely has strengthened my commitment to being the best aunt ever (Henry Porter, I'm talking to you).

If there's anything that I have learned since being in Mystic it is that this is a reminder to how essential it is to slow down. It's of course been busy, which tends to happen when you work full time and are getting your Master's. But you begin to see what you can go without, what is essential, and to really stop and savor the moment. This morning I went for a jog without my I pod...and I don't know the last time I did that, if ever. I often wondered if it was possible for me to run without it, maybe I'd get bored or focus too much on the pain. But I listened to my feet hitting the pavement, my breath going in and out, and felt my muscles working. And I felt so at peace when I came back. When everything you typically use is gone (ok yes, I'm getting Thoreau on you, and yes, I realize I haven't been completely desolate because I'm writing this from an I pad but for the most part I have three days of clothes and that's about it, so just go with it), it makes you slow down, and you really have to be reminded of these things every once in awhile, you know, a wake up call. But I still want fall back.

Happy Endings

And no, this blog post is not about my current obsession "Happy Endings" as you probably would have initially thought. Though I love Penny (year of Jess, suck it!). Hmmm...I'm not as predictable as you thought...

But what I've found myself perpetually thinking about is happy endings of a different sort. You know, Life Happy Endings. And the question is, do we all get one? And if not, what qualifies someone for a happy ending, and why do some not get them?

We've been taught in this culture that we all get a happy ending--even that we deserve one. Whether that be the perfect spouse, the perfect job, the perfect 2.5 children, the perfect house, ultimately the fulfillment of the American Dream, we want, and hope for, a happy ending [eventually!]. I'm not seeing these are per se my happy endings, though select categories may apply. All the strife and turmoil we may be facing now is someday going to all make sense! We've read fairy tales about this stuff--You know, "happily ever after" and what not. We are taught that "everything happens for a reason," that the "story will come full circle"--as if our life just gets a little bumpy, but eventually everything will pan out. We're taught that our hard work and "can do!" attitude will pay off eventually. Or we believe that God has our back when it comes to our happy ending, we just have to wait, be tested, you know all that stuff. But I wonder if God and life is a lot messier than that. Do we all get a happy ending, does it all come full circle? Does everything get resolved? Or do we change our perspective to mold our reality into our happy ending--even if it's not everything we'd originally hoped? Do we change our definition of our "happy ending," and if so, do we lose faith too quickly in our original wants? Is there always a lesson to be learned from pain, from sorrow, from violence, from death? Or does bad stuff just...happen? What do you say when life is cut off prematurely, and that person never gets to experience their "happy ending."

But perhaps these statements highlight my questions about God, and how in control I believe God to be. Maybe it says a lot about my definition of happiness.

Maybe the problem really is what my Happy Ending looks like. Maybe my problem is that my version of a happy ending is to short-sighted.

And these are things that I sit awake and think about at 12:39 AM--is it coming (the fulfillment of my deepest wants and my greatest desires)? Do I need to change my perspective, or do I dare to keep dreaming? Do I ultimately have to wait until heaven for my happy ending to come true, or is it possible here on earth? Is it even a static state? And how would I begin to define my "happy ending?" When will I finally look back and say, "Ahhhh. I get it now"...or will that happen this side of heaven?

Do not let your fire go out,
spark by irreplaceable spark
In the hopeless swamps of
the not quite
the not yet
and the not at all.
Do not let the hero in your soul perish.
The world you desire can be won.
It exists.
It is real.
It is possible
And it is yours.

— Ayn Rand

--Thanks, Scott Katsma

Jon Foreman

I've always had great respect for the lead singer of Switchfoot, Jon Foreman. Dare I say that he is one of my own contemporary heroes of the faith. I've been listening to the band Switchfoot for a number of years. It takes me alllllll the way back to high school and throughout college--I watched them in Seattle, I saw them at the Big Easy in Boise (which doesn't even exist anymore). I even got to see Jon Foreman play a last minute solo acoustic set at a coffee shop in Boise.

I'll never forget my sophomore year I went to see them in Seattle with my neighbor from home. As we walked out of the concert, my neighbor said, "That was better than church." And I think what he said was true. When we talk about spirituality, so often we think we have to be in a specific venue, or using specific (churchy) words, instead of just being. We may not say it, but we believe this to be true. While Jon was playing his acoustic show in Boise, I had the opportunity to sit at his feet as he played. And there was something about him--an otherness. He was patient, kind, soft-spoken, caring...something. He didn't sit and preach at us, he just played. It was really very refreshing, to tell you the truth. If you sit and listen to the poetry of their music, the lyrics, and I mean really listen, deep within your soul, deep within your spirit, you will hear something. It is quiet, but it is there. It is in many ways unspoken. This is spirituality.

One of my RA's incessantly teases me because I read The Huffington Post all the time. Maybe it's because a lot of my conversations with her begin something to the effect of, "So I was reading this article on The Huffington Post..." Anyways, you can imagine my pleasure when I found out that Jon Foreman posts articles on the Huff Post once in awhile. And one of my favorites is called "Possessed By Truth."

I'll let you read the article, but basically as a summation, he says that truth is not something that we possess, it is something that possesses us. It simply is what it is...we don't have to prove it. And for so long, I felt like I have to convince people of something, that it is my personal responsibility to educate them on what they are missing out on. I think this in general about church culture--for some reason or another we believe that we have to stand on the proverbial street corner and cram things down people's throats--and here's the thing...it doesn't seem to be working (shoot, it turns me off, and I even affiliate myself with the group). We don't stop and listen--we're so concerned with fitting truth in where we can, we're in such a rush to work it into the conversation, that we don't let it run its natural course. But what if we just were. It might take longer. But this is what I appreciate about Jon Foreman (or at least, the one in my mind's eye...obviously I don't know him any better than I know Conan O'Brien, but work with me people!). He is who he is, and these things all sort of just naturally trickles out of him. He does not have to say anything, but one can sense his peace, his genuineness, his compassion. It's not about him proving a point, or speaking the "right" words-- it is about him writing meaningful lyrics, about collaborating with civil rights workers (John Perkins) to bring justice to earth, writing articles, putting together charity events, you know, action. Switchfoot has met harsh criticisms from the Christian community for not using enough of the J-word (Jesus) in their lyrics, or not being "overtly" Christian. But Jon Foreman's faith, in many ways, is what I want mine to look like--it feels natural, it doesn't seem forced. It is active. There is freedom there. And that is very refreshing. There is something magical about God finding us in a bar at a concert, or finding us in poetry, or finding us in music and lyrics, or finding us out on a jog. Truth finds us. Not the other way around.

Perhaps I like Jon Foreman because I have so much to learn from him...but he isn't going to tell me right away. I have to wait. I have a lot of opinions on things. But maybe I need to be quiet and listen. Maybe I don't need to prove anything.

God found me in college, sitting in a classroom, wishing for a new faith that had been made so toxic, been filled with so much judgment and hate, that I began to wonder if faith was even for me anymore. But it was. It was just a matter of pushing through all the filth and the messages where people believed they were teaching me truth, telling me I was doing something wrong, instead of letting truth find me. And the Jesus I found there was so much more welcoming, so much more inviting, so much more freeing, and so much more than the Jesus I had originally believed in. Kind, compassionate, genuine, patient...sound familiar?

Double Entendres

For as long as I can remember, I have been the last to know, in particular when it comes to erm...well...termonology as it relates to sexuality (that's about as nicely as I can put it). Some may describe this as "oblivious," or perhaps "sheltered..." I prefer to think of it as "naive," and I'd like to believe "endearing." I am that person who didn't know what a lot of certain..."terms" meant until I was later into college...people wonder if I was living under a rock, but I will again point to the fact that I am just good ol' naive, or perhaps I simply lack street smarts. I mean they don't teach you these things when they separate girls and boys in the 6th grade. So it's no surprise that I am very good at mistakingly saying double entendres without even realizing that I'm saying them. These statements are typically met with awkward gazes from people, perhaps a giggle, followed by a "Uhhh...do you know what that means?" And THEN followed up with me saying, "OHHHHHH. Good to know." It happened again today, but perhaps the most unfortunate instance was during the Fall of 2008, a day that will live on in infamy as one of my top most embarrassing moments.

There we were. It was our big town hall meeting in front of approximately 350 students. I was the Moyer Hall Advisor, and it was my first debut in front of everyone--I was there to introduce myself so students would know who the heck I was. My supervisor at the time said, "Hello everyone, this is Jess. She is the Moyer Hall Advisor. Jess, would you like to say anything?" Unfortunately, yes. Yes I did. "Hi everyone! I would just like to let you all know that this summer I took up baking and cooking as a hobby, so if you stop by my apartment, you just might get lucky!" OHDEARLORD. The crowd was silent. People always joke about crickets chirping during awkward silences, BUT I ACTUALLY HEARD SOME. "Uhhh...!!!! Not THAT WAY!" The crowd burst into laughter, with all the men in the crowd going "woot! woot!" I honestly don't know that my face has ever turned that red, nor my ears turned so bright--I literally could have guided Santa's sleigh that night. There's the phrase "my ears were burning"--they actually WERE on fire. Subsequently, every time thereafter someone ate a cookie in my apartment, they always walked out saying, "I GOT LUCKY IN JESS'S APARTMENT!" There was talk of creating t-shirts to wear after eating in my apartment with the aforementioned catch phrase, I really think it could have been a money maker. Apparently I do not easily learn lessons as a few weeks later I was out shopping for food with my boss for the annual Christmas party, and she picked out a bag of mixed nuts and asked me what I thought about serving them at the parter. "I'm not much of a nut muncher at parties...Oh. Crap." Some things never change.

Kendra and I Take Connecticut!

OK, people, my friend Kendra came to town, and it was a HOOT AND A HALF!!! You can check it out on my SJC blog (will be posted on Tuesday), but I thought I'd post some fun pics!!! To sum up the trip: we ate a LOT of goooooooddddddd food! Nothing wrong with that! So much fun to see my girl!!! P.S. No idea why my alignment is off...but think of it as a creative expression...????