June 11, 2014 § 2 Comments
And now, for some things:
Let the record show – I’m a fucking champion. *Licks finger, holds it against butt, makes sizzling sound*
Case in point:
Psychologist David Keirsey identifies ENFPs as “Champions,” which he suggests are rather rare. “Champions can be tireless in talking with others, like fountains that bubble and splash, spilling over their own words to get it all out,” Keirsey suggests. “And usually this is not simple storytelling; Champions often speak (or write) in the hope of revealing some truth about human experience, or of motivating others with their powerful convictions.” In addition to having an abundance of enthusiasm, they also genuinely care about others.
Go onnnnn *bats eyelashes excessively*
While they are great at generating new ideas…not seeing them through to completion is a common problem. ENFPs can also become easily distracted.
You sir, should have stopped at champion. But I have to admit, it’s so on point it’s freakin’ me out. Whoever is in charge of ADD meds please mail my ration asap.
And now you – do it.
I love a good commencement speech! I love the thought of fresh grads stepping out into the world with their dewy faces and twinkling eyes. Before the panic sets in, before everything good is laced with the promise of pain. When they are still full of faith and determination that they will, someday, get to live their truths. It just fills my heart, ya know?
I guess I’ll throw in some advice for any new grads while I’m here – Treat day-to-day decisions with respect. They mean something. Nothing is isolated. They accumulate and build exponentially. They will transform you. They can lead to something great or they can cost you dearly but either way – they matter. Those seemingly insignificant moments add up to a lifetime. Your lifetime. Remember that. Pay attention to your choices. Pay attention to your life. Time is the only currency worth worshipping.
And Lastly: This Goat with Sweet-Ass Parkour Moves
Sick to Death of Looking at Pretty:
May 16, 2014 § 1 Comment
Warning: Fuckkkkk…this is depressing. This guy will break your heart. But it’s that special kind of sad, the kind you’d pay $11.25 at a movie theater to experience.
This guy…this guy, he makes you want to set out on a mission to find every person whose ever hurt him, every person whose even looked at him the wrong way and hold them hostage, forcing them to curl up next to him and gently pet his hair while whispering, ‘hey, but at least we have each other’ until he feels better. Until he’s ok and snaps out of it. Until he wants to sign up for a triathlon, get some fro-yo and then maybe go for a sunset bike ride. Sheesh, this guy…
Or maybe it’s just me?
And also, Happy Friday, m’loves :)
Stuck in a Circle Jerk of Feelings:
Find more poems here
May 2, 2014 § Leave a comment
How ’bout we take it easy with a lil’ quote for this lovely Friday.
Here ya go – one of my favs, just for you:
There’s a little boy and on his 14th birthday he gets a horse…and everybody in the village says, “How wonderful. The boy got a horse” And the Zen master says, “We’ll see.” Two years later, the boy falls off the horse, breaks his leg, and everyone in the village says, “How terrible.” And the Zen master says, “We’ll see.” Then, a war breaks out and all the young men have to go off and fight…except the boy can’t cause his legs all messed up and everybody in the village says, “How wonderful.”
Now the Zen master says, “We’ll see.”
– Charlie Wilson’s War
February 10, 2014 § 9 Comments
I love Valentine’s Day! I’ve always loved it, even when I was single because I could be a mess at the bar and people would just assume I was sad instead of an alcoholic.
Every year I send out Valentines to all my lovies (seriously I do) but the selection is always extremely limited. I never feel as if I can fully express myself with what’s currently out there. So I decided to make my own.
Cards By Jamie
February 7, 2014 § 1 Comment
Once upon a time two of my dear friends and I took a girl’s adventure trip to Costa Rica. When we arrived in Arenal, a small town known for it’s active volcano and hot springs, we booked a tour-guided hike that promised an afternoon through beautiful rainforests followed by an evening swimming under a remote waterfall.
The morning of the hike started peacefully. Our tour guide was extremely tardy but we sat content drinking coffee at a local cafe.
After some time a shitty van stopped in the middle of the road directly in front of the cafe. A man wearing disco clothes popped out from the back in a graceless ta-da pose. This was Carlos, our drunk tour guide. Upon first inspection we knew Carlos was drunk, he reeked of booze and had a glint in his eye that said, ‘I’m fucked up’.
We hopped aboard.
The van took us to seemingly the middle of nowhere. As we exited, Carlos chucked grocery bags filled with 2-liters of soda, Tampico and loaves of bread at us. The brochure had promised lunch so I’m guessing this was Carlos’ attempt.
Next we followed Carlos as he took us down a trench, up a trench and through a barbed wire fence marked ‘private property’.
Can we pause here to appreciate that three girls who, I’d say, function fine in society hiked down a trench, up a trench and through a barbed wire fence all while carrying groceries because a very drunk stranger told them to. At this point of course our guts were saying, ‘remember Natalie Holloway’ but our hearts were saying, ‘no, it should be ok’.
But seriously, if all of us paid attention to every little red flag we’d miss out on mystery and adventure and life. That logic is sound. People who are overly red flag cautious don’t get to do things like drunk guided tours through Costa Rican rain forests. They are also probably a lot less likely to die in an embarrassing circumstance but sometimes you just gotta get your hands dirty.
So there we were, getting our hands dirty.
We must have taken some back-wood shortcut because we eventually did end up on a legit trail. Once there, it was much more apparent just how drunk, Drunk Carlos was. This motherfucker was real real drunk.
He spent a substantial amount of time making zero progress, shifting weight from one foot to the other, staggering from one side of the path to the other. His ankles were buckling, his shirt drenched in sweat. We did our best to encourage him, ‘All right, all right, you got this. Just a little further.’
But Drunk Carlos was the kind of drunk you can’t just shrug off. At a point early on Carlos realized this. He took a swig from his water bottle (which we later discovered wasn’t actually water at all) and plopped butt first to the ground.
Carlos was sick of hiking. Maybe he was sick of life. Either way he was done. He looked up at us, smiled a true bright smile and then in the most cartoon character-ish way possible he passed out. It was actually kind of cute.
Eager to get on with the hike we told Passed Out Carlos we’d come back for him. We didn’t get very far before we realized we didn’t want to die in the rainforest so we returned to Passed Out Carlos.
We frisked his pockets, found his cell phone and rang the travel company. They arrived, extremely apologetic, to swoop all of us, including Drunk Carlos and then the real adventure began – To be continued for another post.
Carlos is the kind of man who lives life one drunk day at a time. He doesn’t change his behavior to impress or please anyone. He just simply is Drunk Carlos. And although I can say with almost complete certainty that we are not even a spot in Carlos’ memory, he is very much tied to ours.
In that short amount of time we bonded to Carlos forever. We’ll carry Carlos in the highlight reel of our lives, we’ll try to explain the oddity and absurdity of the situation to others and although some might find it amusing, words will never truly capture it.
That’s the thing about sharing moments in life like that, they bond you forever because, well, you kind of had to be there.
Glittering Hearts Wander
August 28, 2013 § Leave a comment
Gather ’round folks, I’m going to heal all your problems.
Although to be honest I’m not really that great at giving advice. So how about I offer you some life lessons by showing you exactly what not to do. If you are not not doing these things then you are fucking up.
Let’s begin. Look at me. I mean REALLY look at me. Right in my god damn soul cause I’m going to explain to you how to not fuck yourself over. Learn from my opposite example.
Ways I fuck myself over…
Constantly Distracting Myself From My Life:
I have a lot of feelings and I listen to none of them. On several occasions I’ve been told I’m extremely self aware, oddly so even. But I’m doing this social experiment where I see how far I can get in life without ever acknowledging those feelings. It’s an unpaid study.
Some healthy individuals might say, ‘But Jamie, if you don’t acknowledge how you feel then how can you make important life decisions?” And I would say, “fuck dem’ people” or I’d pretend they were talking to someone just to the right of me.
But don’t worry I don’t actually need to make life decisions because I’m not what people would call a “planner”. I’m more of a go with the flow type gal, kind of like a Buddhist but with significantly less morals. Overall I’m hopeful things will work out because I’m in denial. But if for some crazy reason things actually don’t work out then I’ll always have my slow and steady descent into alcoholism to fall back on.
Take-Away Lesson: Listen to your gut
Talking to People:
When socializing I have two distinct modes:
1 – Not talking at all
2 – Shut the fuck up, Jamie
Shut the fuck up, Jamie. Can then be divided into two subcategories:
(a) I’m going to say one worthwhile or interesting comment and immediately follow that up with – Did I just quote Toy Story? – Oh. God. Am I still talking? Always keep um’ guessing..?
(b) Oh, hello friend and here are all my secrets. Tell me every single detail about your day. Every person you’ve ever loved. Tell me about your best hug ever. Ends with a force-hug. Followed by vomit.
Take-Away Lesson: Don’t get stuck talking to me
Being Generally Mediocre While Having Big Fucking Dreams:
Unfortunately I have no daddy issues to excuse my ‘hold me and tell me I’m pretty – WHY WON’T YOU MOTHERFUCKERS JUST LOVE ME!’ behavior. I’m just a small town girl full of delusion and false hope. I really wish my parents would have taken time out of their day to beat me. If that were the case then I wouldn’t be running around having dreams like some self entitled asshole.
One day when I have kids I’m going to do them a solid. When at some point disappointment creeps into their lives, which it will, I won’t tell them “not to worry or to try harder next time.” I’ll hold their little shoulders, look deep in their eyes, pause for a moment before saying, “You’re not special…no, no don’t feel bad, really hardly anyone is. I love you a silly amount for a person to love another person and although you are life-shatteringly special to me, to the world you will be ordinary. Painfully ordinary. But don’t give up my little loves, just lower the bar. Choose a small but obtainable dream that your skill set might actually be able to accomplish.”
And I’ll never ask them about their “feelings” because naming those things just makes them harder to ignore. (If I end up adopting I’m going to have to delete this blog.)
Take-Away Lesson: Settle for less / Offer future generations more verbal abuse
Girl Meets Vodka:
If you need further explanation on this one, let’s go for a drink some time. Then you’ll see it’s not all fun and games. I mean sometimes it is. It’s Russian roulette really. Most of the time you’ll get loud screamy girl who fist-bumps through bars in an enthusiastic pitch only alcohol and years of annoying girl practice can produce. (Interesting Fact: Every drunk girl has the same drunk girl voice. Truth.)
But not to worry, simply add a few more drinks and loud screamy girl will be replaced with – Girl Who Hates Smiling and says things like, ‘Nice Northface, bitch’. After that just sit back and watch the chaos ensue. 9 times out of 10 we’ll end our evening with a small kitchen fire. Good times to be had by all who don’t remember.
Take-Away Lesson: Make friends with people who get more blackout than you
I’m sorry if that wasn’t actually helpful. It wasn’t my intention to mislead you, only it was.
*Insert motivational movie montage here*
AND NOW YOU’RE READY! Go on child. We’ll get through today, we’ll get through tomorrow. It’s all gonna be ok. I love you. Amen.
Life Status – Just Scrolled Back For Cookies:
August 14, 2013 § 7 Comments
Ok. I’ve never actually had one but not for lack of trying. I tried to, really I did. You want to hear about it? Ok then. This is the story of an ill-fated attempt to have a spontaneous one night stand.
Let’s take a trip back in time, back to a time when I was lost in transition. I was fresh out of a break-up and spending my free afternoons wandering around the city, occasionally (all the time) I’d run into things that (for no reason what-so-ever) reminded me of my ex and I’d just start laughing and laughing. I couldn’t stop myself.
Oh. Did I say laughing? That was a typo. I meant crying. I couldn’t stop crying. Or it might be even more accurate to say weeping. I was walking around weeping in public like a big fucking asshole. Obviously I was in a very good place.
This is when a very dear friend of mine offered up some helpful advice. She said, ‘Jamie, you know what you need? You need someone to fuck the sadness out of you.’ And she even added a – ‘Boom. Problem solved.’ for extra emphasis. While I was open to it I didn’t like the idea of having completely unattached sex with a stranger but after exhausting all other post break-up remedies I slowly began to come around.
Maybe my dear friend was right? Maybe I did just need the sadness fucked away. So I set my sights on finding someone to do just that. What can I say, I was simply a modest girl with big ambitions. I should also mention that I had been watching a lot of Sex and the City.
(Mom, please stop reading)
It all started when I met this cute boy. The kind of cute I can only really describe as blurry because at the time I met him I was drunk-as-fuck (but in a cute-classy sorta way). Was he charming? Funny? Totally could have been. I really couldn’t tell you. Either way we were speaking in cursive and talking with our hands, it was all so romantic. I won’t go into detail as to what happened next but insert a – heyo! – here.
Cut to: The next morning when I was like – ‘Ta-da! Rise and shine! Mission accomplished! And guess what mothera-fucka? Zero. Fucks. Given.’ And just as I was doing the full on running man (in my mind). Mr. One-Night-Stand says, ‘It’s such a nice day out. What do you think about going to the zoo?’
Uhm….. What the….??
If he would have asked me to go for pancakes I would have politely (as I had rehearsed) stared thoughtfully into his eyes and said – ‘Nope. Peace out, SUCKA!’
But the zoo? I mean, come on. What was his angle? Why was he trying to ruin this for me? Why couldn’t he just read my mind and get the fuck out of there? It seemed like a pretty fair expectation at the time.
Fuck you. Fuck you and your adorable invite to go look at animals. Yeah…obviously I want to go to the zoo. Dick. That’s a no-brainer. You should note that part I did actually say out loud and he not only laughed but he STILL wanted to go to the zoo.
I didn’t stand a fucking chance.
After spending a day at the zoo with Mr. Supposed-To-Be-One-Night-Stand I discovered he actually was funny AND charming AND pretty damn cute.
Oh and did I mention he had a puppy? HE HAD A PUPPY FOR GOD’S SAKE!!
Obviously after that we began dating. The days and months that followed were as blurry as the night we met but I do remember it was fun and effortless. Until about 8 months later when it stopped being fun and effortless and became clear that neither of us knew what we were doing with each other. It was a good run but we had reached our expiration date.
When I finally had time to breathe I noticed that during all of this I had completely forgotten to be sad about what’s-his-name-ex-boyfriend. The cloud had lifted. Even when I dared myself to search for it, I came up empty handed. I had been cured into complete and utter okay-ness. And this is something I can only attribute to Mr. Supposed-To-Be-One-Night-Stand’s capacity for keeping my attention. Although it was temporary it was exactly the distraction I had needed.
After things fizzled out we remained friends. Which was (and still is) a unicorn in my world. I do not do that shit. Eventually we lost contact but only after he sold all of his belongings and left to travel the world. Which is a charitable way of saying he was planning on being homeless (and taking a lot of selfies) for an extended amount of time in several different locations. I did receive a couple of postcards but after a while they stopped and I can only assume he was either murdered or sold in to the sex trade industry or both.
Moral of the story. If there is a moral to this story, which I can’t guarantee there is – You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need.*
Rebound Chicka Wow Wow
*Rolling Stones (obvi)
June 24, 2013 § 6 Comments
I’m standing at the corner of E. Randolph and Michigan Ave. in a part of Chicago known as the loop. I’m waiting for the bus. It’s January. If you’ve ever stood on a Chicago corner in the dead of Winter waiting for public transportation and decided to make a bold scream-cry declaration to absolutely no one in particular that, “YOU ARE MOVING TO CALIFORNIA BECAUSE YOU AREN’T ABOUT TO DIE OUT HERE AND BECAUSE YOU HAVE SOME FUCKING SENSE OF SELF PRESERVATION!” then you may have an idea of what I’m talking about. Or if you’ve ever woken up in a bathtub full of ice missing your kidneys then you might also have an idea.
This particular Chicago day was the coldest they had had in a decade. It was -9 before factoring in the wind chill and with the wind chill it was -33. Which is fucking cold, people. It’s real fucking cold.
Seconds before I found myself on that corner I had burst through the turnstile doors and ran for my mother-lovin’ life to catch the bus and I’d reached the stop just in time to miss it. The busses came in 15-minute intervals. Another 15-minutes, I thought to myself. Oh.God.No. I stumbled back into the corner of the bus stop overhang and huddled down, moving slowly to conserve heat.
15 minutes isn’t long if you are waiting at the bar for a late dinner guest or if you are paying for an awkward public massage at one of those mall kiosks but when you are freezing your fucking ass off 15 minutes is a lifetime. And the longer I waited the more the unapologetic wind that whipped off the lake to bitch slap me in the face felt less like the elements and more like a metaphor for my life.
A gentlemen sauntered up to the bus stop. He offered me a reassuring look of encouragement as if to say, ‘Don’t worry. It’ll all be ok…maybe.’ It was a welcome distraction. I returned his gesture with a nonchalant nod meaning, ‘Crazy weather we’re having but what can you do? Also, are we going to die out here sir?’ Only a few minutes had passed and I was already about to break.
Next a woman wearing a jacket made completely of luxurious dead animal fur joined us. Now I know killing animals for the sake of fashion is something that should be avoided but as I stared at this woman I noticed she looked slightly less cold than the rest of us. And I have to admit if a beautiful rare silver fox had suddenly appeared before me I might have slaughtered it for the sole purpose of warming my hands inside its dying carcass.
Somewhere in between my daydreams about murdering innocent woodland creatures and the bus arriving is where I made my scream-cry declaration to move back to California. Under normal circumstances my two fellow commuters would have most likely laughed politely and shifted away from the small psychopath who makes life decisions by yelling them to strangers but we had just endured the same cruel 15-minute fate which means we had bonded in a way that would typically have taken several months of forced awkward small talk. So my new friends were oddly reassuring and made an effort to make me feel as if I had correctly panicked.
And then the bus pulled up and just like that we were saved. Once aboard, it was clear I wasn’t going to die but it was also clear that I would be moving back back to Cali Cali.
Beautiful Cold Chicago. I Love You But You’re A Cold Hearted Bitch: