Your Smile On Fire : Lance Tankman

family v. relatives

jordynt — Mon, 12 May 2008 21:25:00 GMT

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.

i have awesome radio stories

jordynt — Thu, 08 May 2008 23:36:00 GMT

There’s a lizard outside my window, friendlies.

In other news, have you ever wondered why when you put in a DVD of The Office (assuming, of course, you have DVDs of The Office) the theme song is so loud you have to scramble to turn the volume down no matter how low it already was, but then the actual show comes on and you have to turn the volume up as high as it will go just to hear what they’re saying? Yeah. That’s annoying.

I’m counting how many books I have with the main character’s name in the title. Does anyone else do stuff like this? Probably not.

The answer, in case you were wondering? Ten. Suite Scarlett, Saving Zoe, Serafina67, The Murder of Bindy Mackenzie, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, Harriet the Spy, The Alison Rules, and Hail Caesar. Jeez. I should have counted how many books have titles starting with the word the. Just because I call myself the Jordyn doesn’t make it okay for everything and everyone to do the same.

You can tell I have nothing to write about, can’t you?

Oh! Okay, so I just thought of something to tell you. Yesterday I was in the car, listening to the radio, going to the library. And anyways, some lady calls the radio station and the conversation between her and the DJ goes something like this;

Lady: Am I late?

Because this radio station is always giving stuff away. I think all of them are. Me and my cousins used to listen to The Impossible Question and try to answer it, which reminds me of a few more funny radio stories, but back to the one at hand. I’ll start over now because I’m sure you all forgot what the lady said by now. (Of course I’m assuming you’re all just like Dory.) Anyways;

Lady: Am I late?

DJ: For what?

Lady: I don’t know. Just, you know, whatever.

AND SHE SAYS THIS VERY LAID-BACK, LIKE SHE CALLS RADIO STATIONS ALL THE TIME JUST ASKING IF SHE’S LATE FOR SOMETHING. It was hilarious.

And also it makes me want to tell more radio stories. Like this one. It was March 6th, 2007 and I know that for sure because I just looked up the old email I wrote Michelle about it. See, I write people random emails like this fairly often. And don’t even bother to ask how my mind works that I actually remembered that. I boggle even myself sometimes. Anyway, this morning radio show was asking people to call in and tell what their obsessions were. So blah, blah, blah, obsessed with reality shows, shopping, motorcycles, whatever. Then this guy calls in and the DJ asks him what his obsession is and he says this, WORD FOR WORD, “Well, I don’t know if I would call it an obsession, but I do know that before I started playing World of Warcraft I used to do other things.”

Um, yes. I would call that an obsession. Worse, I would call it an addiction, but who am I to judge? Also, that was hilarious.

Oh, and I do have one more radio story to tell but before that a little bragging. I got a 95 on my preschool observation!! Picture me doing a little happy dance (my happy dance, incidentally, involves me jumping up and down as if I think I am a kangaroo. It is very wonderful). No but seriously friendlies, this is awesome. It means maybe I will get an A in the class? One can only hope.

And okay, on to the next radio story. I told you guys about how me and my cousins (and sister, of course) used to listen to a local radio station that had this thing called The Impossible Question. Usually the winner would win, like, a meal from Taco Bell or something, and Brad really wanted to win a taco. I’m not sure if it was about the winning or the taco (he’s a notorious cheap-o), but this is why we sometimes called in. (Well. He called in or Taylor called in. Not me. Maybe sometimes Mads would. Not me.) (Did I mention I never called in?) Back to the story. I forget what the question was this one time, but Bradis was talking to the radio guy and in the background Tay and Madisona were jumping around and being… well… loud. So after my cousin tells the DJ his answer their conversation goes something like this;

DJ: Are you in a zoo or something?

Bradisona: What? Oh, no, that’s just my sister and cousin.

You guys. I am not kidding you. That is what was said. That really happened. Do I not have the bestest cousins (and sister, but from now on out lets just assume that 98% of the time when I say “cousins” I mean “cousins and sister”) ever?

Yes. Yes I do.

Also, Madisona will be 12 very shortly. Wow we are all getting really old. Before you know it we will be all married and what not and will bore our children to death with stories about how “when me and your aunts and uncle were little.”

Oh crud, wait. Haha, they won’t be aunts and uncle! They will be second cousins! Oh well. We can just call them that anyways, right? Right? RIGHT?

to do this summer: see friends

jordynt — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 04:08:00 GMT

So I know the semester doesn't end for me until June. (I know, so far away!) But considering that I'm getting impatient now that Becca's semester is over (or almost over...?) and Lisa just did that post about how she's out of school for a little while too, plus the fact that last time I talked to my cuzzie she said (most emphatically, might I add, even though it was only over msn messenger), "you need a FRIEND," and that I needed to get out more and go to parties.

Um... okay... whose parties? Going out would be a heck of a lot easier if I had people to go out with. You know, people I actually wanted to go out with and who wanted me around.

But I digress. All that has got me thinking of what I want to do this summer, which mostly includes lots of traveling. Word to the wise, this is what happens when none of your friends live in the same hemisphere as you. (Okay, okay, so hemisphere is stretching it. But it may as well be another hemisphere.)

I want Sarah to visit. I have to drill this into her head and get her to come out here!
I want Mich to visit. And I want to visit Mich. MEET HER FRIENDS! Yay!
And it goes without saying that I want to see Braddles and Maddies and go out to Arizona.
Also I want to finish the novel I'm working on now, or at least get a good part of it done.
Get a job! (Actually I'd like this to happen ASAP so that at least I could spend my money on books and stuff even if I don't have people to hang out with.
GO FISHING! And no, this is not summer-specific. I want to go fishing soon. Even maybe try ocean fishing? Fun.
I don't think the English class I need is offered during the summer (except from like 6-9 at night, which I so don't want to do) but if it were I would want to get it over with. So, summer classes?

Yes, I realize I can't visit everyone and get a job and take summer classes. I know that's a stretch and all those things take time and blahblahblah. But I can try, right?

Really. I want summer. And it's not even that I want to be done with school so soon, it's just that I want to see my friends.

Maybe I will be a hermit like Emily Dickenson. Just live somewhere all alone with, like, a bunch of cats or something. And no people. Just me. Okay kidding, I would go crazy. But I'm just saying... it's maybe starting to look more possible than I'd like?

On Movies I Have Seen...

jordynt — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 21:04:00 GMT

These are the movies I have gone to see in theaters since the move.

Flightplan. After that sleepover at Brea's, my dad and Taylor and I went to see this movie. I hadn't got to sleep until 6am the night before, so I was half expecting to fall asleep during the movie. But I didn't. And, shocker, I had a better time going to the movie, sleep-deprived, with my dad and Tay, then I had at the sleepover. Fun.
Walk the Line. With Dad and Taylor. Good movie. Awesome movie. Fun.
Stranger Than Fiction. A whole group of us went to see this movie. Meggo was the one who invited me and although the big group of people we saw the movie with and hung out with afterwards was no fun, I actually had a really good time with Meggo and Ana beforehand. Not fun.
Juno and I Am Legend. I went to see both these movies with Brad and Madi while they were out here. Both movies were good and of course it was fun because it was the four of us. Fun fun fun!

Have there been more?

I don't know. Maybe. I remember I wanted to see Ratatouille but that never happened, and also that me and Meggo were going to see Becoming Jane, but that never happened either. Really I used to see a lot more movies when I lived in Arizona. Only now there's no one around who is willing to go see Horton Hears A Who with me, because even my little sister claims it is for kids.

Pshaw.

There've been other movies. Ones I've gone to people houses and watched.

Sleepover. At Meagan H's, with a bunch of girls. Afterwards Meggo said she'd had a good time but the movie was lame. I didn't tell her that me and Taylor had been the ones to choose the movie. Eh.
The Prestige. Also at Meagan H's, with a bunch of people, most of whom I didn't know. It was fun though. We got a bunch of pizza and I was the only girl who ate that instead of salad. I wasn't sure whether to be happy about being all nonconformist, or upset because salad is really so much healthier than pizza. Mostly fun.
The Fountain. Um, oh, never mind. I don't want to talk about this one except to say that we had watermelon and it was yummy and also very messy. Fun, except not in hindsight.
That one movie with that one guy in it. I forget what it's called but it was really funny and Taylor had seen it before but I hadn't. I was with nice people that time, ones I actually knew and who were my friends. Fun.
Miss Potter. I went over to Meggo's and watched this, just me and her and her mom and possibly her sister although I don't remember. It was really good and much better than I expected, but I don't remember much about the night except that I had dinner over there and I cut the onions because they make Meggo cry and they don't make me cry. Usually. Fun.

Wow I have no idea why I just did a whole post dedicated to movies I've seen with people, but there you have it.

this is me, saving myself

jordynt — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 23:34:00 GMT

Yesterday I went to Barnes & Noble. And I bought lots! Thanks to the mega gift card bought with Marriot Reward points, I got four books and the Juno soundtrack. Woot woot!

In other news, I'm still trying to be better. At everything. My spirituality, turning my negative veiws positive, not dwelling on the missing social life, not letting others' negativity have such powerful effects on me.

This is something I've always had problems with, letting the emotions of others rub off on me. It's like I have an invisible link to each person in my family, each person close to me. I've become honed in, especially recently, on the feelings and attitudes of my family. I can tell by the way my Dad shuts the kitchen cabinets what state of mood he's in, by the particular pitch of my mom's voice whether or not she's upset, by the way my sister moves if she's mad or happy. I've become an expert on it, watching for the signals and tuning into the exact moment that the mood of any one of them turns sour.

And unfortunately for me I am tied to my family, attached to them by an invisible, unbreakable link. It is nearly impossible for their moods, their attitudes, to not rub off on me. When my dad is worried, I get worried. When my mom is upset, I get angry. When Taylor's sad, I feel sad for her. And I'm trying to break that, trying to realize that they all say things they don't mean when they're upset, that everything we do is tainted by emotion, that just because my parents are my parents and I look up to them doesn't necessarily mean I should be a part of their frustrations with life. I have a hard time remembering that I don't have to worry (and probably shouldn't, for my mental/emotional health) about the same things my parents do.

I notice when the mood changes, when the air becomes toxic, when the stress of life is overtaking my family, and I slip out. I retreat to my room and look for some good music. I listen to Avril Lavigne or Rodney Atkins or the soundtrack to West Side Story, and I write or I read. And I try to block everything out. I know this is feeble, I know it can be looked at as a way of running away from reality and that there's no way I can escape stress. But I also know I'm eighteen. I know I don't want to worry about everything yet and I know I have a predisposition to. Not to worry about the big things, like the economy or the war or shootings on TV, but about the littler things. I worry about my parents and my sister, my cousins, my grandparents. I worry about how long it's going to take me to get through school and the fact that I still don't have a job. I take on the worries of everyone I care about, as if I can do anything about them.

But I can't.

So I run away. And maybe it's feeble and maybe it's stupid. But then again, maybe it's smart. Maybe it's a way to physically REMOVE myself from the things I worry about, from the extra stresses I don't need to have. When I get worried I get dizzy, it gets hard to breathe, I grind my teeth together and have to remind myself I'm not falling apart, I'm just freaking out. If I can prevent that from happening, if I can block out the stuff I shouldn't be worrying about and save myself... why shouldn't I?

on my distant friendships

jordynt — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 23:53:00 GMT

Over the last few years a remarkable thing has happened to me. Specifically to my friendships and the people on the other ends of those friendships. It began, of course, with the event that tears my life into two pieces. Both seperate and distinct: a before and an after, except that unlike in all those makeover shows, the before still seems a bit more appealing. And that event, obviously, is the move.

Before the move I had an abundance of friends. I was never popular, per see, but I was not popular in the best way. Or, as Emily Knox would put it, I was the best kind of popular. The people I considered friends weren't all extremely close friends (though some of them were), for the most part not people I would tell my deepest secrets to or anything. But they were good friends. I could count on them to notice when I missed a day of school, to let me borrow their notes, to always have a partner for group projects and plenty of tables I'd be welcomed at during lunch time. Outside of school there were the friends I had from church, the friends whose houses I'd visit, the friends I went to see movies with. Except for Mich who always lived on the other side of the country (which may as well be the other side of the earth), they were all centrally located in our cluster of small towns. They went to the same church or the same school, or both. I ran into them when I went to Wal-Mart and my parents knew their parents.

Then I moved.

And now, suddenly, the people I count as friends are spread out across the continental US. I've kept in contact with some of my Arizona friends, at least sporadically, but only two of the friendships have survived the effect of time and distance to become friends that I consider close. Apart from them there are girls I've met through Red, located in seperate corners of the US, nowhere near me.

Do I have friends here? Kind of. Not particularly close ones, none who can measure up to the friends I've known for years and years, the friends who know my whole history and with whom explanations are rarely needed. Now I mostly hang out with my little sister although on rare occasions there are girls I go to the mall with or to the movies with. But for the most part my friends are nowhere near here. And I try not to let that bother me. I try to remind myself that no matter where they are, they're the most amazing friends and I'm lucky to have them.

But it's hard to keep that attitude all the time and sometimes I feel lonely even though I know I'm luckier than most, and definitely less alone than most.

i miss fourteen year old self in book form (translation: i lost my journal!)

jordynt — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 06:15:00 GMT

You wouldn't think losing the journal I kept when I was fourteen would make me sad, would you? I mean, aren't we supposed to shun the girls we were at fourteen? Isn't that supposed to be a really whiny/angsty/blahblahblahlifesucks sort of age that we want to just forget about as quickly as possible?

And most importantly for those of us who adore the written word, aren't we supposed to disown what we wrote back then?

Well I haven't. Any of it. Not that my life was perfect or my writing was great or anything like that, but aside from the whole catastrophe of omg-part-of-my-life-is-gone-now!, my age fourteen was actually not awful. It was interesting. It was good.

I was in AcaDec!

I was in high school!

I had a group of friends!

I liked a guy who really was very full of awesome!

I spent hours with Bradley and Madley and my marvie sister playing Monopoly!

I discovered The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants!

So as you can see, what with the acadec/school/the boy/friends/cousins and Monopoly/books, my age fourteen was actually not so sucky. It was kind of awesome. And sometimes my eighteen year old self still misses my fourteen year old self. Is that pathetic? (No answer required.)

Maybe I'll eventually find it. Hopes so.

this post comes in two parts and explains my two week hiatus

jordynt — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 05:27:00 GMT

Ok so I was totally going to make a post from the library at lunch today. But seeing as how it was practically pouring outside EVERY SINGLE COMPUTER was in use. So I went to eat lunch in my car and by the time I got to my car my jacket was soaked and my hair was so wet it was all slicked down to my head. It was quite the sight, I tell you.

And this post comes in two parts.

Part one: my two-week hiatus. It was not entirely my decision. It was really my dad's "suggestion" for me to take a break (a complete, clean, no-looking-back break) from writing and reading. The deal was actually for three weeks, but come on, I'm amazed I made it this long. I was starting to go a little insane. I mean seriously. Not being able to write about the stuff stressing me out was making me cranky and angry like you would not believe. Writing might be an obsession, but it's an obsession that helps keep me sane.

So what did this hiatus mean? It meant no blogging, no working on my in-progress novel or any short stories or poems. No writing in my many (many many) notebooks. No writing in my journal. No emailing. Which, truth be told, was quite probably the hardest part. I mean my best friend lives on the other side of the country for crying outloud. Email is one of my life lines to her. And all my other good friends? Um... Florida (hi Becca!), Northern California (Erika!), Arizona (Ash, Sarah! Bradison and Madison!), So the only one that really lives close by is my adorably adorable sister.

So yeah.

Saying this whole project was "difficult" would be an understatement of gigantic proportions. And you want to know why? Because my life takes place in words. These random lines will come to me during school and I'll write down stuff with my psychology notes that have absolutely nothing to do with Freud! (exclamation intentional, Friends reference) or Pavlov and his dog experiment (I could make an Office reference right now, I really really could).

But hey! I'm back now! My dad's hope was that taking a break would make me better or more creative when I got back at it. I'm not sure if it's worked or not because I think writing is one of those things that you have to consistantly be doing to maintain your ability. Like when I started writing again, yesterday? I could tell the words weren't coming as easily as they should have been. It was a weird feeling.

Part two: cheating. You know what? Cheating is wrong and I know it's wrong and we all know it's wrong but at the same time... I can kind of understand it. I mean honestly, why do we go to high school or junior high or college? In its simplest terms, whatever schooling we're doing right now is merely the means to an end. I want to teach kindergarten so I'm stuck taking these ridiculous general education classes that, I'm sorry, will never be of use to me once I leave the classroom. As my dad is fond of telling me when I get stressed over classes or grades or school in general, "You just have to play the game. It's all about checking the boxes." True. I just barely passed my World History class last semester but I did pass it. And now I never have to go through it again. (And trust me, that is a huge relief.)

But here's where the snag arises, and where I can really kind of understand cheating, especially (see below) if the person's not copying someone else's work. If it's all about checking off the boxes (and so often it is), if this is just a means to an end (again, it is), then the only thing that matters is getting through. No matter how you get through. I mean I'm not talking about med school or about your NCLEX exam (nurses), I'm talking about the classes (and there are oh-so-many) that don't actually matter but that you have to pass anyways. Without getting into the "unfairness" or the "ethics" of it, if school is just a means to an end then cheating is just a way to achieve what you've set out to achieve. No harm, no foul.

But then on the other hand, cheating grates at me. It annoys the heck out of me. Why? The classic response, really. And that is that I work really hard for the grades I get. I'm not getting valedictorian-worthy grades or anything, but I do pretty good usually, and it's no accident. I do the work. I show up for class, I study, I do my homework, and I do extra credit when the professors offer it. I put in the time and every A, B, C, D, or F that I get is a result of that. Today in art class my professor (who I think is awesome by the way) was talking about how she tries to make her tests difficult to cheat on so it will be "fair for the A-students." I thought that was an odd way to put it but I was glad that she brought up the subject of cheating.

And then I heard the girl sitting next to me - my "friend" (note the air quotes) - mutter,"F--- you," under her breath. Nice, huh? Later on this same girl took my take-home quiz that I'd just got back so she could copy down my answers for the ones she missed. And I took it back from her, which I'm sure suprised her because everyone's gotten to the point that they just let whoever wants to copy their answers and we barely even think of it as cheating anymore. But I put some serious effort into that quiz (which I then forgot at home and turned in late for reduced points, but that's beside the point). I probably spent over an hour on it and I wasn't just bsing my replies either. Maybe it's a selfish way to put it, but I hate the idea of someone else benefitting (sp) from the time and effort I put into my work. THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THEIR OWN DERN WORK!!

Oh and PS. Omygosh why is nobody blogging lately? Seriously. Practically no blogs have been posted SINCE I LEFT. I'm severely disappointed in you guys! (Haha, kidding. But for reals, what's up?)

on friends

jordynt — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 19:56:00 GMT

Friendship. Wow. That's a broad category. We apply the label "friend" to a lot of people, some of them people we barely know. That kid who sits next to you in Biology, the next-door-neighbor you occasionally chat with, the distant relative you call up every so often. But when you stop to think about who your real friends are, the list gets a lot shorter. If you don't include the people who have to love you (ie, your family), there's hardly anyone on the list.

Because real friends are tough. Actually being real friends with someone, building that sort of relationship? It takes a long time. It's tough.

A while back I thought about all the people who I knew were my real friends, the ones who I know I can trust to be there for me through everything and who I can goof around with and who are just... I don't know. Defining a real friend is hard. To me it's someone who knows you, who's there for you, who knows your faults and whose faults you know but they love you anyways. And it takes a long time to build that sort of relationship, not because it takes so long to get to know someone, but because sometimes you have to go through a lot with that person before the friendship really becomes a strong one. You have to have a track record of being there for each other and continuing to care about each other even when there's not much point to it. Real friends keep in touch when they're losing track of all the other "friends" they used to have. They let you rant when you need to and they don't judge you for it. They care about what's going on in your life and they let you know they're there for you. They let you be yourself without getting freaked out because you're so weird or different from them or whatever it is. They respect what you believe in even if they don't believe the same. They help you grow into a better person and let you change to become that person, all while sticking by you.

It's a difficult position to fill. You can't predict who's going to end up being one of those amazing friends either. I think all you can really do is be the best friend you can be to the people you want to be friends with and see who cares enough about you to do the same.

in which i go from topic to topic like mad (from us four to boundaries to wanting to get out)

jordynt — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 17:56:00 GMT

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz. Oh, sorry. I'm awake, really I am. I've just got to quit staying up until midnight writing.

In other news, I love this quote, and maybe I've wrote it in my blog before, but I've been thinking about it lot lately so it bears repeating.

The word friends doesn't seem to stretch big enough to describe how we feel about each other. We forget where one of us starts and the other one stops.

--THE SECOND SUMMER OF THE SISTERHOOD

I was looking a while back for a quote that could describe the relationship between us four. (Us four: me, my sister, and our two cousins [Lance Tankman and Reese's Pieces]) And I couldn't find one. But then I started reading the second 'traveling pants' book again and that quote leaped out at me. Because it describes us kind of perfectly - even when the four of us don't see each other for months it's still just like it always was when we get together. Like no time at all has passed. We immediately sink back into those old roles - I'm the "little mother", Reese's is "the baby", Lance Tankman is "the boy", and TayTay is... well, she's TayTay.

And I miss them so much sometimes that it aches. I've been thinking of them an especial lot lately because of things that are going on, and I've been thinking that our lives are so different. So different that I don't even know how to relate to some of the things they go through, and I know they haven't been able to relate to some things I've gone through. There are some things that can't be explained, things that mere words don't do justice too. Feelings that you will never know until you experience them. Certain things that happen in life, they are beyond explanation. Too sad or too horrible. Too extreme. I think most people get that - there are certain boundaries in life, lines you don't cross.

And you don't think about them. I mean, do you really have to remind yourself not to stick your hand IN THE FIRE? For most of us, the answer is no. Our hand in the fire will get burnt. It will hurt. We will be in pain. We don't like pain. So we don't do it. But then there are those times the normal boundaries, for whatever reason, get passed. Lines get stepped over. And that's when words fall short. Because some things just AREN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

Okay, sorry. I started talking about one thing (us four) and wound up talking about people sticking their hands in fire. My mind works in strange ways. But how did I get on that topic? Oh yeah... experiences you can't really understand until you go through them.

Actually I was thinking about something else when I wrote that. I was thinking of this girl I knew back home. We'll call her Rainbow Fish. Anyways, I've known RF since kindergarten when we had the same wonderful teacher. We were never best friends, but we've known each other since we were five and, up until the time I moved away, had always hung out with more or less the same group of people. So we knew each other pretty well. And as far back as I can remember she was always saying she wanted to move away. Specifically she wanted to live in California. She was always looking forward to the time when she could go to college and get out of our little town. I was just the opposite. I loved our town and couldn't for the life of me figure out why someone would want to leave so badly, or what that would even feel like.

And then I moved here. To this place everyone loves. To this place where the sun's always shining and the beach is thirty minutes away. And I know I'm a total anomaly, but I finally understand that feeling, that itch to get out. It's a weird feeling. Kind of antsy, a little restless, and also sorta sad. But I understand it.

thinking of my perfect moments

jordynt — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 04:49:00 GMT

I'm thinking right now about perfect moments. You know what I mean. Those seconds, infinitely small frames in time that you wish you could freeze in a snapshot. Sometimes these moments, after enough time goes by, fade away. They take a backseat to all the other stuff in your mind; the math tests and friends' phone numbers and more recent memories. But some of them, the really special ones, remain forever.

My first perfect moment, I remember, was the day I turned four years old. I think. I could have been turning three... I'm not sure. In any case, I woke up early, so early it wasn't entirely light out yet, and went into the living room, where my parents were sitting, just talking, with the window behind them and snow, that fairy tale white stuff, falling in the background. I don't know what it was, whether the lull of their voices or the fact that I was turning four (or three) or the snow outside, or a combination of the three. But somehow, that moment was so perfect and I was so amazingly contented, that I've never forgot it.

The second perfect moment was later. I was seven, living in Texas, and driving in the car with my dad. In that blue car we used to have. (Or was it green? My memory fades; it was a long time ago.) I don't remember where we were going or what we were doing, but I do remember that song Fly by Sugar Ray playing over the radio. And I remember being very, very happy. Not the quiet, contented sort of happy I was in my first perfect moment, but the sort of bursting-at-the-seams happy. The OMG-this-is-crazy sort of happy.

Since then, there've been more perfect moments. Sitting with my cousin Lance Tankman (ha! not his real name) at the anniversary party none of my friends were at, my and Mich's inside joke at the Subway by the beach, climbing the rocks. And so many before that, too many to think of that happened before. I should really try to write them down sometime, keep a record of little moments like that. Moments that make the rest of life and all the crap I go through sometimes, worth getting through.