:: read ::
dae
not the messiah
erasing
lizspeaks
dink
:: see ::
scribblings
me
links
scrapbook
wonderdog
:: breathe ::
:: be ::
:: me ::
I was going to blog about this week.
I planned on it.
But now that I'm here, there isn't much for me to say.
Except for the fact that it all seems like a bad dream to me.
And I'm still sad. Sad that I'd become numb to it in these past few days, dealing with people who were at airports, people who called wondering if their loved ones were on the planes, were safe, people who were stranded in Chicago, Canada, LAX...
Then the people who called who were supposed to travel...honeymooners, business people...and I had to tell them that there were no refunds after October 1st. Had to listen to them curse me, threaten me...
Somewhere along the way, I made myself stop caring just so I could make it through.
And then, this weekend, tuned to MTV to avoid the America Under Attack specials that were everywhere, I saw Live's new video for their song 'Overcome', a song they released expressly for this event (you can download it on their site.)
And I cried.
Felt redeemed. Like a human being again.
Not that anything will ever be the same.
Please help.
Love you all.
Jen Salonen [9:57 AM]
Saturday morning I got up at ten am, which is fairly late for me. Neil actually got up before noon and I suggested we go somewhere for the day because a:) it was a beautiful day and b:) I was avoiding my mother's phone call asking if I was going to my cousin's wedding. I didn't and I wasn't going from the very beginning. It wasn't like it was going to be a happy wedding. When I told my father I wasn't going, he replied that he didn't want to go, not even my aunt (my cousin's mother) wanted to go but we all needed to go because we were a family. Needless to say, I skipped it. Neil and I took the dog out to Dublin Lake, drove to Peterborough and then got thoroughly lost in the process. Sunday morning I was awakened by someone banging on the front door. Not casual knocking. Bang Bang BANGBANGBANG I rolled out of bed and stumbled, disheveled amd contactless, into the living room. It sounded like an emergancy or something. When I got to the door it stopped and I heard them leave the porch. It was some kids, selling something. If I hadn't been so contactless and disheveled and hungover, I probably would have opened the door and either yelled at them or bought something. Sunday I had a family reunion to go to, on my mother's side. I wasn't really looking forward to it, since my grandmother is occassionally (read ALWAYS) bugging me about something. So I brought Penny up to my parents' house for the day so she could hang out with Krissy. Then I headed down to my grandmother's and smiled and answered the same questions over and over. After an hour, I had had enough. I headed home. My mom was kind of mad, but I don't really care. Monday I was a sloth. Slept late. Redesigned my page. Wrote a lot, erased a lot. Anyway, I should get in the shower. It's getting late.
What day is it? Tuesday? I so do not want to go into work today. It's almost time to go and I haven't showered or eaten. I just can't seem to get myself going this morning, so I'm going to sit right down and tell you about my lovely long weekend.
Jen Salonen [9:52 AM]
Well, right now, I just want to scream "FUUUUUUUUCK!" What time is it? Ten thirty? Ten thirty and I've already had the shittiest day. I thought I handled stress well, but you know, that really isn't true, because I'm breaking out to the point I look like the before picture in a Noxema commercial. Oh yeah, and quitting smoking? So long to that. This job is so fucking stressful and it's not even a hard job. It's the people, mainly my boss. Jesus Christ! All of my nerves are standing on edge. You know, I am probably the best reservationists they have there. He said it himself yesterday when USAA came to visit, that I was one of the leaders in the department and I'd only been there ten months and then I get a lecture this morning after staff meeting, my MOST favorite friggin' day of the week, about how I'm not servicing customers well. Well, one customer in particular who thinks I'm her personal assistant or something. She's from New York, number one, which should probably clue you in, she's single and she's going to Thailand with us and she's so fucking demanding. She called my boss at 09:30 last night (I have no clue how) and complained she had been trying to get a hold of me for three days. Let's try to figure out how, shall we? Email has been down since Monday, so I haven't recieved any email all week, which is a royal pain in the ass. And she hasn't called because, good God, I would have known it because she won't talk to anyone BUT me in res anyway. She won't even go in my voicemail, I have to hang up with whomever I may be talking to at that moment and talk to her. Drop everything and talk to her. And when I talk to her, we're on the phone for at least an hour, regardless of what might be going on in the office that day, regardless of the hour. But, whenever we hang up the phone, she's always nice as pie, telling me how much she appreciates me and blah blah blah. She's a pain, but she's a nice lady and I don't really mind her at all, really. She's a demanding woman from New York. I told my boss I couldn't believe she actually talked to him, that she didn't ask for my home number. I don't know why I'm saying all this because no one who's reading this has no clue what I'm talking about, I just have to get it all out. So, to recap: FFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK! It's almost ten thirty. I better get going.
Has anyone heard the new Ben Folds song yet? Rocking the Suburbs? This is the one where in the middle of the song, he sings "And I just want to scream FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" Or, translated on the radio, he sings "And I just want to scream Fbeeeeeeeeeeeeeepk!"
Jen Salonen [10:33 AM]
You know, memories are a funny thing. My senior year of highschool, I, as every senior had before me, was required (i.e. forced) to write an autobiography. I found this slightly amusing, since we were only the blooming age of seventeen. How much is there to write about? We hardly knew who were then, how in the world would we know who were before? But I wrote. It was easy really. I wrote because I write. My life is not as interesting as some, nor as boring as others, and I had big dreams. That year, 1998, was a real turning point for me. I dumped my old friends for new ones, broke my curfew, challenged my parents, tried and enjoyed pot... The funny thing is, as I page through that autobiography, titled 'Ghost Train', inspired by the Counting Crows and some obsure Adam quote, something that touched me so deeply, I can't even remember it now, I realize I never wrote about that summer of `95. I was too young, anyway. That's what my English teacher pointed out. That I was one of the youngest people to be accepted to the prestigous Simon's Rock College of Bard Writing and Thinking Program. I wanted to go, I really did. I was awkward and selfconcious and I still wanted to go. You know, I had this strange idea what friends were, what life was about, who I was. And the tragic thing was, every idea I had was wrong, so wrong. You've never truly lived until you've sprawled out on the cold tile floor, laughing more than you've ever laughed in your entire life, laughing over the silliest things. I was a sad, sad specimen of a person, I really was. I had such strange preconceptions of how people were supposed to act. I had no confidence to speak of but so many opinions I could hardly keep my mouth shut sometimes. I met her in my writing class. We got paired up to write, what? I think some kind of autobiography? The memories are so blurred now, I can hardly remember. It wasn't so long ago, it really wasn't! I don't know which one of us introduced the other to Kerry. Kerry was our fearless leader, the resident of room 15 in Crosby Hall. She was some kind of inspiration. She introduced us to the X-Files. She gave the writing I had done since I watched the Outsider a name, validation. Fanfiction. There were others, too. Tracey. Emily. Jenny. But none were as dear to my heart as Diana and Kerry. They made me believe in myself...made me believe that my life at home was not all there was. That I could be more than I thought. I was able to giggle, to roll on the floor, to make up code names and scream and laugh and have more fun than I've probably know in my entire life. It empowered me. Things change, of course. We all stayed in touch for a while, visiting each other over Christmas breaks, communing at Kerry's house to watch Batman Forever for the 300th time, to eat sunflower seeds washed down with Jolt. But they were all older than me and went off to college while I was still wallowing into my sophomore year of high school. And I'm a terrible letter writer. So we lost touch. I haven't spoken to them in at least five or six years. So I sat here after reading Diana's(now Dae) journal entry, immersed in memories. Memories that were so close, so precious, I couldn't share them with anyone. Much less my senior English teacher. And I cry for the kindred spirits who I've lost, and the ones I've discovered again. Not tears of regret, but tears of joy. Tears that they are still there for me, still writing, still their selves. Diana. Kerry. Tracy. Emily. Jenny. I miss you all. Love you lots. Thanks for reminding me, Dae.
You know, for a long time, I thought I lost this part of me. The part of me that bubbles with inspiration, giggling to myself at two o'clock in the morning while my fingers crackle over the keyboard.
Jen Salonen [4:33 PM]
Aah...recirculated air...
Don't you just hate working Saturdays? I do. `specially when I could be home doing something else. Like not working.
SOH (show of hands): How many people thought I dropped off the face of the earth? I think I dropped off the face of the earth. I think it's because I sit in front of a computer all day.
Maybe I'm just lazy.
Summer is pretty much creeping by. I work a lot and that is pretty much all I do. I owe my parents money. I owe money on my credit cards. Money, money, money.
My computer has that damn worm virus type thing that MSN was squawking about this week. I can't send email. I can't read email. My computer is possessed by demons. All around, it's a bad thing.
I don't have much to say. I've been writing again. Not much and not often, but at least I'm writing again. And it 's *handwritten* stuff, not on the computer. Don't know why. Just because.
Anyway...
Jen Salonen [12:52 PM]
It's hot.
The air is hanging in my apartment like a wet towel. I think it's cooler outside but I haven't showered yet and I'm not going out in my pajamas.
Well, a lot has happened since I last wrote on this page, I guess. Well, maybe not. Probably not as much as I hope. It's already summertime. I can't decide if I want to turn off the tv or just let Dolores Caliborn play on in the background.
I still live where I lived before, with the same person I lived with before. I work where I used to work, making more commission now than I used to.
Jen Salonen [12:24 PM]
I don't know what this is.
I feel off kilter and out of whack.
I have nothing to say.
Jen Salonen [11:10 PM]