Your Smile On Fire

So I’m not very good at grammar. I must have skipped learning all the basic rules of it in school because until I was about fifteen years old I still didn’t know when to use its versus it’s. And hyphens (-) compared to commas (,) to split up a sentence? Well, despite Mrs. Petersen’s most valiant efforts to undo what my last english teacher had done, I think I’m still a little hazy on the difference.

Don’t get me wrong - I’m kind of a Grammar Cop and it does drive me bonkers when people write sentences and get your confused with you’re or the three variations of thereare used interchangably, but I just don’t know all the rules.

I’ve known about this particular personal flaw for many many years, so a few years ago I read Eats, Shoots and Leaves (even though there are slight differences in British and American grammar) to help.

And lo and behold! It helped! I now know when to use it’s instead of its (its is possesive; it’s means it is) and can use the semicolon [;] with a moderate to above average success rate though I still occasionally have trouble knowing when to use a colon [:] and thus use them as infrequently as possible. I do know you put them before lists though, right?

RIGHT?

Anyway. If you ever see me completely mangle a sentence’s grammar, just know that I didn’t mean to and I would never use there when it should be they’re, but that as for the more complicated nuances of this stuff… well, I occasionally mess up.

I have a confession.

Thing Number Four:

The Jordyn loves sunflower seeds. I know, I know! If I think spitting is so gross (and I do), I shouldn’t love a food where you have to spit the shells out. But I do. I can’t help it. They’re so yummy.

Hola, friendlies. So a few items of note.

Item One:

Hppy graduation BR class of 2008, and especially Ash most of all. Sorry it is snowing on your graduation day.

Item Two:

What!? It’s snowing!? Apparently, yes, because I have heard this from a total of FOUR PEOPLE so far (including my sister who heard it from her friend). And, hi, I know I love snow very dearly, but come on. It’s summer. It’s graduation day. It’s late May. This is a little much, I mean I know it always snows in early April, but May? Really? Is this seriously necessary?

Um, no. No it is not.

Item Three:

Summer is sneaking up incredibly quickly and I still have no idea what I’m doing. Like if I’m going to the easterly part of the US or not, like if a certain person who lives in the easterly part of the US (she knows who she is) is coming here. Like if I will get to see Bradis and Madis (note: I better!). Also, um, I know I’m working and all, but what am I going to do with that time that I normally spend in school or at least studying/doing homework?

Hey! Maybe my novel will actually get more words added to it!

Item Four:

I’m debating whether or not to make fudge.

Item Five:

OMG THE MOST IMPORTANT THING! EXCEPT FOR THE GRADUATION!

David Cook WON Idol. How happy am I? Rhetorical question, obviously, but suffice to say: yay! I almost didn’t want the little twerpy, Hobbit-like David to win as much as I did want David Cook to win. So yay.

Let’s play a game called What is the Story About? Where I give you a title and you tell me what the story would be about.

Dusty Red Shoes

Now. What is that story about? Plz reply, kthxbai.

In other news, House finale spoiler if you’ve got it DVRd or TiVod and haven’t watched it yet: OMG AMBER DIED!!! AND WILSON IS MAD AT HOUSE!! Nooo… House and Wilson are very possibly my favorite television friendship ever (even more than Paris and Rory, probably) and they cannot not be friends. The show would die. A little piece of my soul would also die…

wait, is that over the top?

Also, I know this is a short post. I’m sure my obsessive blogging will make up for it later.

• For one thing, I seem to be the most creative at night. Which means that probably half, if not more, of my last novel was written when everyone else in the house was asleep.
• I am always the last one asleep. Even when I’m legitimately tired (which trust me, it does happen) I’m still the last one to fall asleep. In addition to not liking sleep, I’m also an insomniac, which is just not a good combination.
• I never like to sleep at night but I also never like sleeping in during the day, which always leads to guilt for either staying up or sleeping in (or both). Because sometimes, you know, I actually do go to bed at a reasonable time and the only reason I’m not sleeping is because I CAN’T.
• Sometimes late at night a noise will wake my sister up and she’ll call my cellphone and, guess what, I’M ALWAYS AWAKE. This would seem to indicate that I never sleep, but I do. Really I do.

Hello there friendlies!

Now since I promised you posts about The Family, let me tell you about how I am ALL KINDS OF FAMOUS DOWN AT ACE HARDWARE. And I promise you this relates to The Family.

My mom’s brother (my uncle, for those of you who have trouble with family ties) is named Gary. That’s not relevant to the story, but it’s his name. He lives in Florida and he owns a couple of Ace stores (or just one? I think two, but whatevs) and he is the person who bought me this lappytop that I am now typing on.

Lappytop: (n) Just a cuter way of saying ‘laptop’ is all.

Anyway. Remember my HuffPo essay on racism? (Which if you haven’t read it I would really like you to - it’s below Zulay’s - because I just think it is a good topic to read on and also possibly one of my favorite things I’ve written.) Well anyways. Apparently Gary posted the article outside of his store. WHICH MEANS THAT PEOPLE IN FLORIDA WHO I DON’T EVEN KNOW AND WHO HAVE MAYBE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF THE HUFFINGTON POST BUT THEY HAVE TO GET SOME HOOKS TO HANG CURTAINS OR SOME NAILS TO BUILD A BIRDHOUSE OR WHATEVER MAYBE POSSIBLY READ MY ESSAY. Um, how awesome is that?

Answer (although that was clearly a rhetorical question): Very very awesome.

Best. Office. Ever! To sum it up, people are getting engaged, people are having babies, people are going to New York, people are going to prison. Oh, and Toby’s gone.

Now. I spent most of last night doing laundry, which is what I’m still doing right now. A large enough percentage of my clothes is red that it warrants a load of reds. Seriously. Is that weird? I mean, I don’t think I have that many clothes to begin with. I think I just really love wearing red, and also I am the suck at laundry and often when I wash them with darks I end up with red spots on everything.

Also? Possibly the best part of The Office finale? Pam telling Jim, “I don’t know why I doubted myself, because I’m so clearly awesome.”

More later, friendlies.

I have decided it is imperative to enjoy this age that I am. To enjoy being eighteen and in college and enjoy living with my parents and sissy and even the bad stuff, like my cruddy emotions. Okay, maybe I won’t enjoy all of it, but I at least want to live all of it and not be so eager to get to the next stage in life even when everyone else is.

Partly this is because I feel like I skipped a couple years there, like I didn’t really get the full teenage experience, and not because I was trying to grow up too fast or anything, but just because for so long my life was dominated by stuff like doctor visits and surgeries and health concerns. Stuff that should be foreign to a sixth and seventh grade girl. I feel like because of all that was going on I sort of skipped that time in my life. It was like I got off the Life Train at eleven, when I and everyone around me was still pretty firmly in childhood, then tried to get back on at thirteen when everyone around me was in teenagehood and I had no idea what or where I was supposed to be.

And it was like I’d skipped two years, two important years that everyone got to live but me. And, no, I’m not feeling sorry for myself here, I’m just saying that I think I shouldn’t be so eager to rush ahead right now, I think I kind of owe it to myself to just be eighteen and be able to live the age that I am and be typical for once.

I don’t think I’ve ever really been a typical age. I feel like even before all the huge stuff happened in junior high, I was always dealing with that stuff, health concerns that were way too advanced for me. Like missing so much of kindergarten because of being in and out of the hospital and being sick so much, and all the other years always being that girl who couldn’t run.

Childhood is full of running and I did very little of it. Just today I ran to my car (parked in a guest parking) to get something out of it and I could still remember how I used to not be able to do that. Just going upstairs would leave me out of breath, and I was ten years old.

And now that stuff isn’t so important. I’m not The Girl Who Can’t Run or The Girl With The Heart Problem anymore, mostly because I don’t like to tell people about it. And even when I do tell them, most people don’t really get it. So to everyone else that isn’t really a part of my life anymore and finally people get to see me as normal. Or, you know, relatively so. Which is nice, but not really my point. My point is that right now I don’t want anything else but to be the age that I am. Things tend to happen for me just like they do for everyone else, they just happen later and I’m tired of feeling like that’s some fault of mine, like if I just tried harder I could catch up.

I can’t catch up. I’m not even sure if I want to. Maybe those two years put me behind or maybe it’s just because I am a late bloomer in the game of life, but whatever it is, I don’t really care. People around me are getting engaged, getting married, getting apartments with their friends, being all adult, but I can’t handle that yet. I’m just not ready. It will happen when it happens for me and when those things do happen, whenever that is, I know it will be the right time.

So I was sitting at the counter eating a grilled cheese and reading What Happens Here, and my dad was putting on his shoes and we had a conversation that went like this.

Me: Where’re you going?

Dad: I’m going to buy some new shoes and then I’m thinking I’ll try to find a pizza plane, and I should go out and do some jeps but I’m not feeling too motivated.

Me: Ah. Well have fun with that.

Pizza plane: (n) A type of radio controlled airplane that, yes, resembles a pizza.

Jeps: (n) Um… how to describe this… um… airplane flight log stuff. Paperwork for pilots? Something like that. I swear I know what it is I’m just not all that good at describing it.

*************************************************************************

Also, dear friendlies, I need some help. I have been putting this off for a long time and now… well, now I’m kind of getting tired of avoiding it.

You remember a while back when I gave up reading and writing for two weeks? Yeah. Well. During that time I decided that I needed something to do with the time I would normally spend doing that stuff and so I took up photography.

It was fun. But seriously I don’t have the patience or the creativity to be a photographer.

Still, I took some nice pictures. And then I took a pretty stupid one.

You see? Do you see that? Do you see my stupidity?

No?

Okay well let me explain it. In order to take the picture I used this double-sided sticky stuff, that you’re supposed to use for scrapbooking, to get the CDs to stay on the guitar. Erm, duh, Idiot Alert. After many hours I managed to get the gunk off of one of the CDs (the newest and probably bestest one, Kate Voegele), but the others are still messed up.

And so I am wondering, does anyone know a good and safe way to get sticky stuff of of CDs? Because these are four of my favorite CDs potentially ruined. (In case you’re wondering; Feist, KT Tunstall, Sara Bareilles, and Fountains of Wayne.)

So, um, halp me? Puhleeeze? If you have any ideas at all? Would rubbing alcohol work or would it ruin them? Because I’m pretty sure nail polish remover would ruin them. That stuff is lethal. And what about getting them resurfaced? Would that be my best bet or would it even help?

You see, friendlies? This is what happens when I quit writing - I end up being an idiot.

Omg you guys. You can find anything on the internets.

Anything.

Including that old tv show of which I have been trying to gather proof of for, like, ever. Flash Forward. It was on Disney Channel way back when? And I mean way back. Like before Lizzie McGuire or Jett Jackson (um, anyone remember that one?) back.

And, guess what? It exists! ed. It existed.

Honestly. Sometimes I think I invent these things in my mind and they never really existed at all, I just made them up. Some other things I may or may not have made up in my twisted up mind?

• The Great Bamboozlement. It was a book and this family lived on a boat and they were river merchants? And the kids had to lie to the thieves who were trying to rob them or something? Omg it was great. I loved it and have been looking for it FOREVER. Now, thanks to the internets and Amazon in particular, I have found it here. But no cover, so I can’t be totally sure if it’s the right one.
• This book about this brother and sister who went to live in this big old house by a lake with their aunt and uncle? And there was a creepy house by the lake also or something? And they made friends and had a wonderful summer out in the middle of nothingness? Yeah. No idea what it’s called so the internets isn’t of much help. BUT! If you ever read a book that sound similar to this, please leave the title in the comments. It was a childrens’/middle grade book. And oh how I loved it.
• You know the book The Gadget? (The first ever book I made my dad read?) Well, I forgot about it for a while and somehow got this idea that it didn’t exist and I had just made up in my mind a story with two-headed frogs and killer dogs in it. But no. This book is alive and well.
• This kids’ picture book that aimed to convince us all that fairies are real? I read it when I was little and thought it was weird. Or at least, you know, I think I read it. You guys, the aliens are maybe playing tricks on me again.
• A book with little people and they eat acorns or have acorn hats or something, and the girl in it wanted adventure or something. (See? Do you see this crazy peek into The Jordyn’s head that you are getting?)

That’s all the possibly-fiction stuff I can think of right now, but who else is wondering how this season of House (not to mention The Office!) will end?

I know, I know. TV addict. It’s all part of the plan, as I cackle real evil-like. Mwaa-ha-ha-ha-ha!!

In other news, both of my parents currently have reading assignments given to them by yours truly. Mom is supposed to be reading Sarah Dessen’s That Summer and Dad is supposed to read Nancy Werlin’s The Rules of Survival.

And now I have to watch American Idol and hope that the Archulater is booted off.

Hey. I can dream, can’t I?

Hey friendlies. You’re probably all like, What’s up? Do you realize you haven’t wrote in days? When usually we can’t get rid of your stupid yammering! Are you okay? Are you dead?

Yammering: (v) See ‘yakking’, also ‘blabbering.’

Well, no. I am not dead. I am fine. Just busy. Like for instance, there is the fact that I started working again. Yeah, I know, you’re shocked that I actually found a job after so many months of looking. Who knew retail and other low end jobs were so difficult to come by? And besides that, there was also yesterday.

Which was, yanno, totally stressful. So stressful that I finally gave up on my art project and am sure I will not do so great on it. And for the record, it wasn’t stressful because of the art project. It was stressful because of the possibility that the dogs I am dog-sitting got into some Ibuprofen and then calling some vets and poison control and COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT. Apparently Ibuprofen is, like, the number one toxin for dogs. ABOVE CHOCOLATE! Seriously, all you dog owners out there - watch out. Do not, for example, leave a zippy bag of Ibuprofen in your purse if there is any chance at all of the dogs getting at it.

Man, that was scary. But the dogs are fine. And I am fine. And their owners will be home soon.

Okay. Well. Transition. (Also, I love how in blog posts you can just write the word transition and not worry about having an actual transition.)

I was thinking today, when I was driving home, about the difference between family and relatives. I know that technically, if we’re talking about extended family v. relatives, they’re pretty much the same thing. But they don’t seem like they should be. According to The Jordyn Dictionary, they aren’t the same.

Relatives are the people you’re related to. Your parents, siblings, parents’ siblings, grandparents, etc. Whoever you share a family tree with.

Family is slightly different. Family is smaller. Family is the people within that group of relatives that you care about and who care about you (and not in the oh-yeah-they’re-family way you care about your distant aunt Sylvia. Also, does anyone have a distant aunt Sylvia? Because if so, what a coinkydink.)

I don’t think that there’s a clear way to differentiate family from relatives though. It’s not that easy, but I know who I consider family and who I consider “just relatives.” For one thing, I know the family better. (The Family. Like we are part of the mafia or something.) I have funny anecdotes about The Family! I look forward to seeing The Family and wish I saw them more often! I call The Family! We keep in touch! We enjoy each other’s company! Most of the time!

Basically I think that all you really have in common with your relatives is a branch of the family tree and maybe some genetic traits, but you have so much more in common with the ones you consider family. If you are older than someone you consider a family member, you probably have funny and embarrassing stories about them. Like maybe when they were little they refused to wear underwear or a shirt with their overalls. (Remember overalls? I used to wear them all the time. And I don’t even think I liked them, but my mom did and I think that was when they used to be “in” or whatever, because people would say, “Jordyn, I like your overalls,” and I would be thinking that I belonged on a farm somewhere. Nothing against farms, of course. It’s just that I wasn’t on a farm. I was in school.)

Wow. I have certainly digressed and, as always, I’m not even sure if this post is understandable, but whatevs. Look forward to posts about The Family.

This was the phone I had before I bought the shiny new Env.

Do you guys see it? Do you see the alien phone? Its outer-spacey blue color and diminutive size? Well! That is just a trick, just a slight of hand. Because, you see, THIS PHONE WAS MADE BY REAL ALIENS. FROM THE OUTER LIMITS OF OUR UNIVERSE!

How do I know this? Because of the sound it makes when the battery runs out. It’s this wobbly, not-of-this-planet, we’re-totally-coming-for-you sound. And I swear the first time I heard it I was honestly questioning my sanity (I know, I know, how rare can that possibly be with me?) and wondering if THE ALIENS WERE ACTUALLY AND FOR REALLY CALLING ME TO THE MOTHERSHIP.

You see, it happened like this. The Alien Phone was dying. I would be in the middle of sending a text or having a conversation or dialing a number and all the sudden it would just give up. Shut down. Kaput. It was really getting annoying. My phone, you see, was giving up on me. And keeping that in mind, I thought it would be no big deal to get a new one. I mean, I didn’t think The Alien Phone would go berserk.

So I got the Shiny Envy.

And I proceeded to leave my Alien Phone somewhere in my room, still turned on even though it was periodically shutting itself down. Basically I forgot about it for a while. I was putting music on my Shiny Envy, I think, and also texting with it. So when I heard this faint, wobbly, strange, we’re-coming-for-you sound, it kind of freaked me out. I was like, huh?

I thought I might be going crazy. Nothing on planet earth made that sort of sound. NOTHING! So I thought, Jordyn, maybe you need to get some sleep. Maybe your imagination is going all sorts of crazy on you.

But then I heard it again. And again. And oh dear heavens, I began to question my sanity. I checked the home phone, sitting on my desk. I turned my computer and stereo off and walked around in the direction of the sound. And I found nothing. So then I did a very sophisticated thing in that I DECIDED THERE MUST BE ALIENS OUTSIDE MY WINDOW. And I checked for them in a sort of ha ha, just kidding, I don’t really think there’s extraterrestrial beings out there sort of way. Which, of course, there wasn’t.

BECAUSE THEY WERE CONTACTING ME THROUGH THE ALIEN PHONE. OBVIOUSLY.

Of course, I felt really stupid once I figured this out, that The Alien Phone was low on batteries (and really honestly low on batteries, not just, I-feel-like-pooping-out-on-the-Jordyn low on batteries like normal) and that it was The Alien Phone calling me from space.

Or, whatever, calling me to either turn it off or recharge it. Whichever. You know. It could have been the aliens. I wouldn’t put it past them, I mean they turn that guy’s dog into one of them so that the guy’s neighbor would shoot it and store it in his freezer.

Oh, what? None of you ever listened to The Art Bell Show? LIARS!

It is some sort of curse of mine that I always think I can explain things, that in my head the words always make perfect sense and the person on the other side of the conversation knows exactly what I’m saying when in real life all my words come out mangled and confusing.

Writing isn’t the same thing. I mean, it’s great and I’m so glad that, at least with this form of communication, my meaning finds its way from me to the recipient. But it’s not as if you can write down the words in your head before you say them - even if you did, the other person would interrupt you or your tone wouldn’t be right and you’d be misinterpreted anyways. At least, that’s how I feel about myself.

I feel as if I have to get permission to feel the way I feel - validation, almost. Like I should preface the “feeling” sentences with, “I know this is stupid, but…” Because it is. It always is. Emotions, mine at least, are always stupid. Or they’re not but I still think they are. Or I think other people will think they are.

I’m not sure if I’m the only one that’s like this though. Because one time one of my friends was mad about something, but not really letting herself be mad, and she wrote me and email about it and when I wrote back I told her it was okay to be upset. “I’m giving you permission to be angry,” I told her.

Which, oddly enough, is what I find myself looking for so much of the time. Someone saying that it’s okay to be jealous, angry, nostalgic, sad, whatever. Someone to let me know it’s okay to be mad when everyone else gets invited, to feel like I’m purposefully being left out. To tell me I can be jealous, can miss people, can be lonely.

The thing is I should be like this. I shouldn’t need someone else’s “permission” to feel how I feel. But somehow I always think that my emotions are different from everyone else’s - like no one else in my shoes would be this petty, this upset, this jealous, this lonely, this happy, this ecstatic, this whatever. It’s like I feel the need to reign in my emotions, to not really feel them because other people might not feel the same as me.

Is that stupid or what?

Lucky for me, there are quotes about this sort of thing. And we all know how the Jordyn loves quotes. THEY ARE THE LIFEBLOOD OF CHAMPIONS!! (Please, someone know where this quotes is from. I hate being the only one who knows.) 

Like this, from The Boyfriend List, My problem is I can think whatever I think but I still feel the way I feel. And this, from Tuesdays With Morrie, I thought about how often this was needed in everyday life. How we feel lonely, sometimes to the point of tears, but we don’t let those tears come because we are not supposed to cry. Or how we feel a surge of love for a partner but we don’t say anything because we’re frozen with the fear of what those words might do to the relationship.

So this is my new goal, and sharing with the internets is kinda weird, but whatevs. From now on I am going to work on my emotions and not feeling like I need anyone else’s permission to feel them. I know! So touchy-feely, new agey! I am such the hippie.