July 25, 2011 | Mr.P

Mr.P passed away yesterday. That sentence leaves me feeling completely blank.

Last night at dinner, before I found out, I told Dimitris about him. There was a man sitting at the patio table closest to us, facing my way. He was wearing a light purple shirt and looked just like him, beard and all. I could not stop staring and it quickly filled my eyes with tears. Dimitris asked why I was crying and I couldn't bottle it up anymore.

I have been thinking about Mr.P, Mrs.P and Brian so often lately. Every time I pick up the camera here, Mr.P is the first person I think of. He was the first person to put a real camera in my hands and I fell in love. He taught me all he knew. With my head hanging out the window and my headphones on, I cried the entire drive home from Sitia to Chania last Tuesday night. I couldn't stop thinking of him and I couldn't stop feeling my skin burn knowing I had let so much time go by without expressing my love or appreciation to him.

I'd talked to Josh recently about wanting to reach out but not wanting to do so once I found out he was sick. I didn't want it to seem out of pity. Way to go, Jenna.  He just listened and told me he understood. And once again, I never reached out.

Last night, after seeing this man at dinner, I couldn't not explain to Dimitris all of the thoughts I'd been holding in my head all summer. I had not mentioned Mr.P to anyone here in Greece. I would sit alone with my thoughts every and every time I picked up the camera. Dimitris made a good point: when you know you care for someone then it should never matter what distance has happened or if the other person would like to hear from you or not.

I wished that I had reached out before he got sick but I didn't. And there was nothing I could do about that but reach out to them now and tell them how I feel and tell them they're in my thoughts. Always. So finally, after seeing this man at dinner, taking it as a sign and talking to Dimitris, I knew I needed to write Mr.P in that moment. I went directly to a computer at the cyber cafe where Dimitris worked and opened an email to Mr. and Mrs. P.

I didn't know where to begin and I couldn't write what I wanted to express. I started writing to Beth in hopes that it would help to sort my words and allow them to flow. I ended up deleting my email to Beth and realizing I just needed to bite the bullet and be myself. I needed to just let the Powers know how much they'd been in my thoughts and my heart - even before Pat's cancer.

Five minutes into my email I packed up to catch a ride home on the motorcycle with Haris, D's brother, otherwise it would be a long overnight at the cafe with no transportation. We got home a few minutes later and I walked through the doors directly to the computer to resume writing. I pulled up gmail and Facebook and a new message from Josh popped up in the bottom corner. I clicked on his message and all it said was "Mr.P passed away today."

My heart is still in my throat.

I am laying at the most exotic beach I've ever seen right now. I call actually call it Paradise. It really is paradise. However, I want no part in being here right now - other than to feel like I'm in an alternate reality where there are not so many wonderful people on the other side of the world aching over such an amazing loss.

I want to be home with them right now. I want to be with Josh and Brian. I want to be with my boys and with my twin, giving them all my love.

I am so sorry you are gone, Mr.P. I am so sorry.

April 11, 2009 | Detached

I've really been here for a year? Time goes by so quickly. I feel like I am always on vacation, always detached from everything.

I need to become happy with myself. Why am I always detached? 

August 8, 2009 | Jamaica Pond

It's shocking how much beauty surrounds us and how seldom we stop to take it in. I'm at Jamaica Pond right now, sitting on a blanket in the sun. It's beautiful. The pond is glistening as if it's been sprinkled glitter. It's so serene. It actually gives me chills. There's a sailboat skimming across in the distance and dozens of people walking by, wandering, holding hands and just being.

May 20, 2010 | Addiction Sucks

Mom is on the phone right now, running countless sentences together and taking more than occasional drags of her cigarette. She said she is sick right now...that she "doesn't get sick often" but happens to be at the moment.  Unfortunately that line is told to me every time we speak.  She is always sick.  I wonder when she'll understand the permanency of that word when it comes to her health.

It takes a lot of brain power to pick apart her sentences and paint the picture she is trying to create.  Stories run together, thoughts overlap and tears are bound to burst out without warning.  I feel for her.  I feel bad for her. I get so angry sometimes but then I realize just how deep and dark her world seems to her - how deep and dark it seems to me.  And I have the glory of being hundreds of miles away.  She said Jake threw her at least eight feet across the room the other night.  I wish I could believe this was exaggerated.  Given the prescriptions, the history, the temperament and the addictions, I don't doubt it for a moment.  Sometimes I just want to throw in the towel for her. 

She started some story about someone bringing a beautiful ceramic mug into the bathroom...I'm not sure who it was about. She was concerned of it breaking - as many things do there. She ventured into the bathroom as she's telling me in great distress about losing the fight of this mug. I still don't know what happened to the mug. Of course there is deeper meaning.  The mug and the bathroom weren't important. It was the point that her words hold no ground. They hold no ground in her own home.  And the bathroom of course can't be used for normal hygiene and routine; this i'm only reminded of when her voice starts to quiver over the syringe she finds laying next to her sink. Without any doubt it belongs to Jake. She knows this, I know this. Yet she repeats the bullshit that he feeds to her about friends being in and out and how of course it is not his. She knows, I know. She hates it, I hate it.

I'm jaded by any family addiction at this point.  It's been too long and my eyes were far too open to miss a beat. My mom's haven't been. Jake specifically, I have watched him spiral down for years. I didn't know the intensity of it until the past few but I've been watching it happen from the start.  Mom always chose to turn and look the other way.  Now she deals with it on a daily basis. She just told me a story about Jake from the other day.  Shannon had bought him McDonalds (this is the part where my mothers voice sounds like a river of flowing tears) and she explains how he shoved handfuls of french fries into his mouth. As my mother tells it through her tears: "the french fries, long, long french fries shoved into his mouth, french fries hanging out of his mouth, held in his fist and piled on his lap.  And he slept that way...for two hours...(dramatic pause)...because he had taken his pills." Add a few giant sobs and breaths of disbelief to the slurred and tear saturated words and you get a more realistic feel of her scenario replay. 

I don't know what to do with these conversations. I have to stop her. One story sparks another story, which only spirals into yet another memory that sparks yet another. Eventually, within 5 minutes, I've been given a general recap of information and updates - enough to fill pages I'd never want to reread -  that have probably only occurred within a one or two day span.  What do I say to her?  I end every conversation with "I love you" and "I am proud of you."  What am I proud of?

Proud that she is alive, really.  No one else is going to tell her, so I do. I don't know that I always mean it in the moment. But I do know that she always needs to hear it.

"You can't reason with a drug addict and you can't reason with a two year old." she always tells me now. At least her eyes are finally opening.


I'm babysitting and they are about to be home.  Time to pop on the headphones and go home. I want nothing more than to shower and crawl into bed.... wake up at the crack of dawn and catch the first train to yoga. Sometimes I feel guilty that I have this freedom.  I know my mom once did...when she was my age. If only I could give it back to her.

goodnight.

January 27, 2015 | Maktub

A guy stopped me on the trail a moment ago to ask if I had money for the bus. He was clearly struggling and stressed. I only had a 20. I wish I were in a better financial space or I would have just given it to him. I should always carries ones. Anyway, he thanked me just for taking the time to check and talk to him. He hugged me and was on his way.

People are amazing beings. I really do think all of that comes from the heart. I refuse to believe our hearts start out as anything but pure and good. I know horrible things are done by people and to people and those things I will never, ever, understand. For me, finding the beauty has always felt instinctive. I think I get that from my mother and will always be eternally grateful for that. 

"Let the beauty of what you love be what you do." 

This quote by Rumi has always been one of my favorite and keeps floating through my mind. Up until this moment I've thought of the "do" as what you 'do' for work, for career, for money. After sitting here writing and hearing that quote play over and over in my mind, I'm starting to think that the 'do' isn't meant to be a job. Not a job but your moment, your disposition, your day. I love finding the sunshine. I love meeting new people and sharing all the smiles and feeling that amazingness of a strangers heart, even if just in passing. This is what I do. Whether it's during a day off at the river, helping a patient take meds, teaching baby Indy to weight-bare or talking to strangers at the bus stop; in all of those things the beauty of what I love is what I'm doing. 

This past year has been built around human connection and really listening to my heart - even when it leaves me stressed out and frazzled. Those feelings never last and chances are if I'm feeling them, it's because I'm working through something and know the reward on the other end is meant to be. 

Maktub: it is written. 

January 25, 2015 | Men Are Actually Awesome

A new year for new things, right? I looked at this journal and I started it almost exactly a year ago. 2014 - what a year you were. A year of reflection and decision making for the future? A year to discover I want to be with men? Most importantly to me, a year to discover that the decision to be with men is okay, and that they aren't all assholes. All of that realization took far more trust and energy than ever expected. Although, I'm not sure I had any idea what to expect, really.

I think half my distractions in life come from insecurities. More than half, I'm almost sure. And by almost sure, I mean I am definitely sure. I'm so wrapped up in my head that it only gets harder to start a flow and put my thoughts on paper. I used to have such a groove for this - for writing - what happened to that? 

I miss feeling invisible and blending in. I miss being in a place that had no distractions and felt like home. 

March 10, 2014 | Bon Iver

"Sometimes we forget what we got --

who we are and who we are not. 

There is so much more in love than black and white

Gotta keep it loose, child, keep it light

But the people on the street, out on buses or on feet, we all got the same blood flow 

I'm in love with a girl who's in love with the world though I can't help but follow

I know someday she is bound to go away and stay over the rainbow"

I am so thankful for music. 

February 23, 2014 | Sunday Night Blues

Sunday night blues are a real thing. Why? There is something so quiet and lonely about Sunday nights. Maybe it's because this is usually a time when people retreats back to their homes and families - settling in for the week ahead. It makes me feel so sad. And so alone. I hate that feeling. Well, who doesn't?

My heart hurts right now. I can't quite figure out why. I kind of want to cry and bury my face under the covers. Where is that coming from? Is it really because of the loneliness I feel here? The lack of friendship? All the solitude? 

February 17, 2014 | Welcome to Denver

I'm in Denver now. It's strange to me how people here actually stop and wait for the walk sign to cross the street. I think that's when it first struck me I was in a new place with a different pace of life. It's incredible. It's just taking a lot of getting used to.

Everything has felt so rushed and tired for so long. The change in day to day life right now seems a bit extreme. Combine that with a new city, a new time zone and a new altitude and things should surely be an adventure.

Wise advice from a friend:

"There's no rush. 

Settle in. 

Get comfortable. 

Just understand YOU and the rest will follow." 

I think this move is life's way of reminding me to take a step back and look at what I want. What makes me happy? Do I ever take the time to look? I can't remember a time when I wasn't following my heart and this time it's sending me on an adventure in Colorado...and hopefully California soon. 

Maybe I do it differently than some. But I feel like when my heart and my mind aren't getting what they need, I'm drawn to finding an adventure. Why do I always need an adventure? I know that's not a bad thing, so why does it feel like it is? 

I just want to explore, meet people, help people. That's what fills me up inside and makes me feel home in my heart. Ironically enough, during those times I usually don't have a permanent "home" or apartment of my own. 

Maybe I should be a bit more happy about finding home in my heart. 

July 16, 2012 | I Am Strong If You Are Strong

Time flies so quickly. It took me a moment to figure out the date. It didn't seem possible that today could already be the 16th.

We are back at Mo's in Chiredzi now. We left the village on Friday. Saturday morning we packed up and drove two hours into the bush where we followed elephants and slept with wildlife under the stars.

It has been so interesting to see the many sides of Zimbabwe. It's been wonderful. For the Zim's that we have connected with in the village, we are their only view of what America is.

A week ago today I was carrying a bucket of rocks on my head and swaddling a baby on my back. The women here are so strong. They do everything. They fetch the water and rocks. they care for the children, they make the meals, they tidy the huts, they keep it together. Their role is so valuable and yet they see no appreciation. The culture here is very patriarchal. Most of the men are polygamist and the women are sold to the husbands when they are so young. Many (if not most) of the women have their first child around age 13 or 14. They're still babies themselves - at least in my American society and in my eyes.

Every single one of the women I met...they are all old souls. They are so wise and so strong. I cannot get over the strength they have to hold this world in their hands. There is such high expectation of them and yet they never stop laughing and smiling. Their comradery is so high and they are so united. Each one cares for each other's children and helps share the load. It brings new meaning to the saying "It takes a village."

Mama Maria and Mama Latah were chosen by Mr.Marumba -- the village head -- to be employed by us during our stay in the village. It was excellent for us to have someone help us cook and clean and it more so was a great way to help support the community without just giving money away and supporting the "hand out" mentality. I'm very grateful that the two of them were chosen for us. We all fell in love with them.

Without the help of these two women I'm not sure how we would have gotten along in the village; speaking for the women on my team, that is. They would come with us to the borehole and taught us how to walk with buckets on our heads. For the most part, women of the village were accepting of the women on our team but most do not speak English and at times were not so warm. Mama Maria was always around to look out for us. If she couldn't come with us to fetch water from a crowded borehole then she would send another woman for us.

Most women of the village thought it was hysterical to see white women pumping for water and it would put them even more over the edge to see us placing the buckets on our heads. Most of the time the teasing was all in good fun. For the most part, it was the first they'd ever seen a white person. To them, white people don't work. They would erupt with laughter but at the same time would come over and lend us a hand. Even with all the differences between us and the language barrier present - you could still feel the depth of connection among us. We were all women. Some children. We all were playing the same role and without realizing it, a stronger bond was formed for me. Quickly it clicked that while we were all so different...we were actually all the same.

I'm sitting here writing - still in Zimbabwe - listening to the sound of the sprinklers watering the yard and the vacuum skim across the surface of Mo's in-ground pool. It's crazy to have the view I do right now and to be thinking about the village and the women and girls who spend all day fetching buckets of water, sometimes from miles away. And I'm only a few hours of a car ride away.

A year ago today I was probably laying on some exotic beach in Greece in this moment. Now I am sitting at a picnic table in Mo Davy's beautiful yard in Chiredzi, Zimbabwe. I just returned from building a clinic in a remote village and spending the evenings camping with elephants and hippo's and lions. Where will I be next year?

July 8, 2012 | Baking Bricks

Right now I'm sitting on the ground at camp. Some people are filling out leadership training packets and others are preparing lunch. I just returned from gathering bricks by the river with the other women on my team. We learned how they were made - formed with wooden molds and baked in the sun. We helped stack bricks into the donkey cart and made the trek back to camp.

The experience is indescribable. And it's pretty amazing how quickly you become familiar and feel at ease. The river we saw is the second largest in Zimbabwe. It's dry season now though (it's winter) so there was not much water. We saw monkeys and taught tic-tac-toe to some of the children. They only speak Shona so it was an enjoyable challenge.

July 5, 2012 | Zimbabwe Bound

I'm on a plane right now - about to land in Johannesburg for the first time. Josh is in the aisle seat across from mine and his eyes are as red as mars from lack of sleep. I just gave myself a wet-wipe shower in the bathroom and stretched for 20 minutes in the back of the plane. I can barely see my ankles after this 12 hour flight.

Once we land we're 1/3 of the way there. We'll be on a plane from Jo'berg to Harare in a few hours. From there I believe we spend the night at the Davey's and then have a 5 hour drive to Chiredzi tomorrow.

The man sitting next to me on the plane lives in Zimbabwe. A much different part of Zim than where we are going. He has a son next to him, probably about 5. The boy spent all night on the floor, fast asleep under the seats. I thought he had disappeared at one point. This man has been warning me to watch out for cobra's and button spiders. According to him, Cobra's breed like crazy and can be very harmful but they don't want to bother you. He had them breeding in his backyard. One escaped and hid under his couch, which is where it died from starvation because it was too afraid to come out. The button spiders drop from the ceilings and the bites are quite viscous. The scorpions sting when they bite but they are not as harmful. I was surprised to hear that part.

When I mentioned why we were going to Zim and to where exactly, this man seemed rather puzzled. Puzzled or shocked, maybe both. He was surprised to hear that we took our vacation time to come to Zimbabwe to volunteer. Almost as if he'd never heard of anyone doing something of the sorts before. In some ways it was a bit frustrating. More so, it was a reminder why we are doing this. And why conversations like the one with this man need to be started.

Side note: Jo'berg from a birds eye view looks like American suburbs.

October 3, 2011 | I'm Fucking Up

I'm fucking up. And I know I am. I didn't finish papers for class today and I didn't even show up for class as result. I'm sleeping with a married woman and right now I'm drinking a glass of wine before work because I need my mind to calm down a little bit.

School is overwhelming for me. I feel like I only know how to set myself up to fail. my anxiety takes over and I throw in the towel before it even begins. Before I even begin to try, that is. I'm starting to feel like the world is spinning out from under me - or at least that it's spinning so fast I can no longer make out a clean image of the pictures and sounds around me. Am I crazy? Seriously. What is going on? Sometimes it feels like I never have a grip...on anything. At least not on the "everything" in my that I feel like I should be in control of.

I need to make focus possible - whether it be yoga or a trip to the doctor or both. I can't allow myself to slip anymore. I have too many good things going on for me.

August 29, 2011 | Airport Floors

I'm laying on the floor of the Berlin airport. Terminal D to be exact. The airport is dark and shut down...except for the handful of random travelers sleeping around me on luggage convayer belts and floors covered with dirt tracks from all over the world.

This is kind of the best sleepover ever. I don't know a single soul and yet somehow I feel like I know them all. 

August 28, 2011 | Ferry Thoughts

I'm on the ferry from Chania to Athens. I think it's around 2am here.

There are lots of people sitting around me. Some asleep on the floor in blankets, some nodding back and forth in chairs and some just staring blankly. I wonder what everyone is thinking. I wonder who they are.

I can't help but picture everyone as a child, as the kid they were growing up in whatever life they led. I wonder where they come from, who raised them, who they wanted to be when they grew up, what home was like, what exactly home is or was for them. We all come from somewhere. I find myself wondering about that somewhere more often than not.

I'm constantly captivated by thoughts of her. Sometimes  this doesn't even feel real. Where did all of this come from? I can't help but wonder now if there was something in the idea of her that I wanted and needed, or if really my love is as true as it feels. After all what is true love, anyways? I shouldn't doubt that. I don't really. No love that I've had - for any human - has been up for the debate of being true or not. Love is love.

It's an endless game of confusion with me. I"m constantly trying to figure shit out. About my patterns, my actions, my reactions, why it is I do what I do. I don't want to need anyone and I think I am becoming more and more aware of that fear to "need." Needing is scary to me. I'm not talking about asking for help, I'm talking about needing another person...needing another person in order to complete your happiness. That = terrifying. I'm also beginning to clearly see I have some kind of fear to commit. And I have found people and situations that completely nourish my fear. Example: I'm in love with a woman who is married, has a love and a partnership and yet no passion.

I'm doing my best to figure out why life is panning out the way it is, especially in regards to love. Am I really that fucked up?

I'm still growing and I always will be. But now, in this moment and my life, I can actually hear what the voice inside of me is saying. For the first time I feel okay finding out who I really am. Not just how I handle things but what it is that I like, what kind of style I have, what I really think when I look in the mirror. Is it weird to say that sometimes I actually feel beautiful? On the inside. Of course it's not weird to say, or at least I know that would be my response to another person. But coming from my own thoughts just feels...odd.

"'Cause sooner or later in life the things you love, you lose.

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air." 

You can say that again. 

July 3, 2010 | All The Questions

Do you think every person that comes into your life has a specific purpose? Do they have a lesson to teach you or a door to open? Maybe one to shut? Is everybody part of the same pattern? Or do certain people and experiences all you to change your direction?

I'm starting to feel like the pattern of people in my life is awful. Which doesn't make all that much sense when I'm always thinking how amazing the people around me are.

What the fuck am I searching for? It's starting to feel less like I'm searching and more like I'm avoiding. I always want to pick up and go. But it's because I can't settle. I can't be stagnant for too long. I want to be out and away...exploring the rest of the world. Right now.

I don't want to wait until later. Later isn't always guaranteed anyways. I feel like picking up to go is not responsible when I think about need a career and a steady life. Why can't I ever buckle down? How did i come this far in fucking up? How have I been writing in this journal for three years and still not finished school? I can't give up before I even start. Sometimes it feels like I already have.

It always feels like I'm the one that's not good enough. As if I always fall short of who I want to be and who others would want. Why am I so afraid of school? What's the hold back? I do not know and I never have. I've always been caught up and it seems like I've never been happy.

I want to stop hating myself. I want to stop feeling like I"m never good enough. I want to know it's possible for me to fall in love...in love with someone who could fall in love with. I want to love the path that I'm on and I want to be proud of myself for going beyond what I ever expected I could do.

I have a lot ahead of me that I want to do. And this time around they're all things I want for me.

I've let my family go. I do not have a love in my life that makes me feel loved. I've never actually felt purely loved in any relationship, which breaks my heart just a little bit. Cry me a river, I know.

I'm just flying solo. Solo without attachment or pressure. I've been letting go of everything. I've always kept the mentality that things are here today and gone tomorrow. That people and situations are always changing rapidly and I was going to "miss something". I'm starting to think this is because my own mind views the world and my life in such a temporary way. I was always afraid to let go and needed the constant reassurance of people. Letting go is inevitable. This is all a blink of an eye.

Something is different now. I haven't been out in months. I have "fallen off the planet" according to certain social circles and I really haven't minded at all. I don't need to drink and I don't need all the distractions. Life is always quality over quantity and my life lately is finally a reflection of it.

I don't want excess and I don't need fillers. As it turns out, I actually quite like living simply.

Three years is a long time to hold the same notebook of thoughts. This journal carried me through my first love, mt first heart break, my first cross country move and the first thoughts that came from my eyes wide open. The emotions and experiences are many on these pages but all my wants and to-do lists have made little progression.

I've finally begun to clear my head and in turn it has naturally began to clear my life...of all the woes and surplus that just survive like parasites feeding off my life in order to survive. They've all become excess now. Shedding layers and shaking the weight from my shoulders is actually allowing me more room to breath. All of that extra breath in my body is actually allowing me to slowly make the changes I've always talked about. I think I'm on the right track after all. My own track. I had a lot to shed before I could actually fly away. And now, now it's time to fly.

June 15, 2010 | People Are Fucked

Josh is in jail right now. It's not right. It's not fair and I can't do a thing about it right now. They have the wrong son. And now Jake is at the hospital probably leaving with a prescription fo rpain killers. People are fucked. Really. What happened to Jake's brain? Where did his life go? He slipped and never picked himself up. Without him our lives would be filled with less pain and fear. Less worry.

Mom called me tonight. She left me a voicemail asking that I call her back this time - that she needed support. I could tell something more wrong than usual. Jake pushed my mom, probably hard. Josh got up in defense of her and hit Jake with a cane. Apparently Jake's nose split open. I have no remorse. I'm sure shooting heroine up your arm hurts more. As my mom says "we make out own beds." Funny, I feel that phrase will eventually mock my entire family. Anyways, Jake called the cops on Josh. They came, as well as an ambulance (oh the drama). They arrested Josh and took Jake to the hospital. So now my twin is in jail tonight. Second degree assault with a weapon. For no good reason at all.

Again, I tell you, people are fucked. 

June 13, 2010 | Numb

Why do I wish I were in a foreign city right now? This just doesn't feel right...to be here. It doesn't feel bad, it just doesn't feel right. It feels like something is missing. Maybe it's time for a new journal...some fresh pages.

I've been staring at a large mug of decaf coffee for twenty minutes now. It's half gone. My mind has turned off but my eyes keep staring blankly. My hand has no life or words to write. Just thoughts. Thoughts in my head strangely seem to be unattached from any words....unattached from anything concrete at all, actually.

Why do I feel numb? I think it's because I know we're all okay. Sometimes we just need to cry and sometimes we're too relaxed to even react.

The bigger picture keeps me moving, keeps me wanting to explore. The bigger picture is the only thing that keeps me sane half the time.

Life seems terribly too busy. It's so simple to forget the power of time. Empty time. Alone time. Maybe others don't need as much of it, or they don't have the time for it. Maybe some just don't care. And maybe they do but they get so caught up. I don't like getting caught up. I want to have a balance.



What do you do when your mother needs more than you can give? I can't help her. So much of her life has shown me an example of how not to live my own. Maybe this is what I'm staring blankly about.

May 26, 2010 | Look Up

"Because the mini indulgences in life 

are what keep smiles on our faces."

The sky puts me into perspective. Always. It's easy to forget to look up. Usually when you do, you see something beautiful. 

December 9, 2009 | Perma-Funk

What gives? Why am I always in a funk? It's always one thing or another. I need a therapist. I'm down. I hate school and I quit yet again. I get so depressed and so destructive. I hate this pattern and I don't want to do it anymore. I have a great job but I need to start choosing a career. And that requires school.

I just want my life on the inside to reflect what people see on the outside. They see who I want to be. I don't believe that's who I'm being. 

November 8, 2009 | Sledgehammer Love

I've been crying every day. For awhile I was okay. At least semi-okay. Football just makes things worse. Two more weeks. Having to see someone you don't want to, so consistently, is agonizing. What's worse is that deep down all you really want is to have that particular person nearby.

I'm starting to understand why this love has demolished me so much. She felt like my home. I made her my home. My best friend, my rock, my safety and my homebase. I move so much, I meet people so often and try on different life paths so often. She acted as some kind of glue. She symbolized a lot. She became my family in Boston. I fell in love and I believed and latched on so hard to every word because it felt like it guaranteed safety, a future and a sense of belonging. I found in her what ultimately I want to find in myself.

I feel alone right now. Surrounded by countless amazing people but still so alone in Boston. I invested a sense of family and belonging in another person. I need to invest those feelings within myself and my surroundings. That's what is making this heartache so awful. I feel broken. Broken because yes, I'm sad, but broken because I feel like I don't belong here. Or anywhere. It makes me want to move again. As if my life is out there somewhere waiting for me to find it. I need to find it within myself. I'm just letting go. I'm letting sadness sit and will not miss it when it passes. But I think this time around I need to stay put. Let all the emotions simmer and run their course. Find out what it's like to love myself; to really love myself and feel secure.

At the end of the day, I still miss feeling home. So much.

October 5, 2009 | Boston

Boston stresses me out. 

August 16, 2009 | Stop Running

Life's coming together and I have to learn how to not freak out this time. I always start to tense up and leave when things begin to fall into place and work out successfully. Even California, I fled when things started coming together and tarted to work. I got comfortable and I left.

No more leaving. 

July 30, 2009 | Stop and Look

"Cry for me, hurt for myself."

I think that could be the best advice given to me right now. Ruby couldn't have spoken more perfect words to me tonight. She couldn't have reaffirmed and brought the situation to light in a more clear way.

People come at exactly the right times. We just have to search long enough to find out why.

June 30, 2009 | Afraid to Succeed

I have this fear of progressing. This fear that I will drastically change if I actually tackle school, if I actually make it happen. I'm so scared and I don't know what to do with it. Use it as a fuel to push through, I guess. I'm afraid school will create this new life. This new Jenna that I don't know - that I don't know but that's always been inside of me. Those are the open doors I've always wanted. Education, a degree, a career and stability. Maybe I've always wanted them because they're what I've never had.

Why am I so afraid to succeed. So afraid. 

May 4, 2009 | California, That's A Wrap

So this will always be the year I lived in California. The year I became better friends with myself than any person I could have met. I've watched my heart unravel and I've learned how to pick it back up. I've gained perspective and I've grown to see not only the power but the beauty held in confidence. I've thought someone was my entire world, only to see that the world is made up of billions of someones - always moving, always changing.

I've grown enough to realize I'm still growing, still learning, still making mistakes and overcoming obstacles. I've matured enough to know I'll continuously be maturing; with each new day and each experience. I've begun to see the magic in today and the mystery of tomorrow.

My eyes feel open now. And for the first time, they're connected to my heart.

I will forever love California. And as crazy as it sounds, I just may forever love myself. 

April 5, 2009 | Ubuntu

"Wherever you are, it is your friends that make your world."

I can't get this out of my head. 

June 2, 2011 | Just Listen

I just got off the phone with my mother. I feel like Buddha every time I talk to her. There are lots of deep breaths on my end, lots of awareness in the tone of my voice. My mother is so fragile. She's like a snowflake that melts even before the touch. It makes my heart hurt a little to hear the appreciation in her voice because I am silent and listening on the other end. Everyone should be given that respect - everyone needs someone to just listen.

After awhile I can understand why some have lost their patience with her. She is an aching and tired soul. She talked tonight about "starting over." Told me how happy she is for me that I've found a home here in Boston and just how charming JP is. She's right. I feel lucky, too. Very lucky...moreso fortunate. I don't take a minute of it for granted. That's for sure.

She told me that my Dad has been really sick lately. I'm told he had a heart attack and was in the hospital for the last week or so. She spoke with him on the phone last night. She said it may have been the third time they've spoken since they divorced. What's that...maybe 16 years? She told me she doesn't love him and that he sounded out of it and drugged. I'm sure he was. After hearing how sick he was she mulled it over in her head and asked herself "Do I feel bad, Do i love this person?" and her answer was No. I understand. But that hurt to hear...a little bit at least. He's my father. She tried to create a fairy tale life with him and it shattered to pieces.

Sometimes everything from my past feels like a dream. Or a story once told and soon to be forgotten. Memories can be triggered by the smallest and strangest of things. But beyond that it all seems like a giant wash of grey. I guess I don't like to remember.

Jake got arrested a few days ago. He's been hiding out in PA at my fathers. His name and picture have been on NY's "Perp Patrol." So fucking stupid. I don't know the legal part of it but I know that he has made his own bed. But that just seems extreme. Really, his picture on the news with a "most wanted" sign?

Anyway, the police in Ebensburg, PA came to my dads place last week and arrested him. I don't know exactly where he is now. Or if he has talked to anyone recently. I know he's scared. And sick. He is in deep with the law and I get the feeling that he's always drowning in murky waters. I have no idea what lies ahead for him. Or my father. Who also needs help but is clearly not behind bars like Jake. All I see are crying faces and cold solemn bodies when I think of the two of them. It's so morbid - but so true. I'd be afraid to look into Jake's eyes. For so many years now he was no where to be found in them. He was gone. And from what I know he still is. Like father like son. He followed the footsteps laid out for him and not long after he began to walk them.

Okay,  I'm not trying to make this a sob story - it just is what it is. I feel for him, though. He should have just turned himself in. Shoulda, woulda, coulda doesn't matter anymore, though. This is where it's at. I'll just hope he gets the help he needs. I don't want to bury a brother. And more importantly, I do not want my mother to bury a son.

"I am afraid I have no gift to give you, nor any payment. I am homeless, a Brahmans son and a Samana,"

"I could see that," said the ferrymen, "and I did not expect any payment or gift from you. You will give it to me some other time."

"Do you think so?" asked Siddartha mercily. 

"Certainly. I have learned that from the river too; everything comes back. You, too, Samana, will come back."

February 2011 | Depression Sucks

Why am I struggling so much to write? I'm distracted. I don't even know where to begin. It's starting to make sense though - why I take such big chunks of time off from journaling. When I'm not content with where I am in life, I don't want to record it. I don't want to remember that that time existed - no proof. That's really sad. I don't want to be in that place, ever.

I keep thinking about California, about how focused on myself I was. And how much time I took for me; to write, explore my thoughts and who I was discovering myself to be. I haven't done that since I've moved back. And I've been back for almost two years now. Where have my thoughts been going? I haven't allowed myself to hold onto them or make sense of them. Life is so fast here. I constantly feel like the world is spinning so fast and I'm not ever going to catch up.

I know I've written this many times but every time I feel the words flow through my hand into paper, I'm always shocked this is how I feel. I don't hate myself but I do wish that I was a better believer in myself. Where did this self deprecating stigma come from?

I don't have any wander in my life. I don't remember the last time I just walked and wandered through my thoughts. Or sat and stared at the ocean of water, checking in with myself and feeling grounded. I hate the winter for making me long for warmth and freedom to comfortably run around outside.

What is it in me that I need to let go of? I always stop myself from accomplishing something I deem worthwhile. I constantly feel like my words are less important than all of those around me. I need my confidence to change and my self esteem to grow. I feel like I haven't been taking care of myself. In some ways it seems like I've been unintentionally destructive. I don't know why. But I see it now. And that's not how I want it to be. Everything I do or do not do has a direct affect on my body and my well being. I need to start preserving myself. Preserving myself for my own life and my own future. I am always so concerned about others and their future. I know I always will be but I'm finally starting to be concerned for myself, too.

My thoughts are everywhere. I've been a bottle full of tears just waiting to burst. Well, not waiting to burst. Trying not to burst is more like it. The slightest things have made my mouth quiver. I've been sad, rundown, tired and sick. I'm so confused because for the past 6 months I've thought I was happy. Content with my job, loving my friends, my home, my future. Life has been "great" and out of no where it seems like all the while I've been super depressed. I'm only realizing this now because I feel like shit, I look like shit and I don't recognize who I am right now. I've wanted to chase after so many things to feel "successful" about my life and in doing so have steered away from the mindfulness of living in the now and keeping the ability to zoom out and put my life into perspective. I still do every now and then, but it's rare. I feel like I should be happy but I'm not enjoying things. I don't hold confidence the way I have before. I don't smile genuinely and laugh at the top of my lungs. It's actually hard for me to keep in the moment and stay positive. There's always something that my mind finds to pick apart. Always something negative, always pertaining to myself. Enough with the negative thinking. Maybe this is just one of those things you have to commit to kicking -- and absolutely follow through. Okay, I'm done. I'm just going to kick it. I'm climbing out of this darkness and finding the light again. I never want to look back on any part of my life and be disappointed or regretful. This is me making a commitment to myself to put myself first and preserve myself. Starting: now. It's that easy, right?

November 13, 2010 | Common Denominator: Me

I need this to become a regular habit. Every time I feel like things are spinning too fast it's because I've lost any grasp on spending time with myself.

I want to get away. Not to move, not to pick up and start all over...just to get away. Every year seems to be a huge turning point and has been consistently different from the last. It's a bit frightening at times. And when my head is most clear and focused it's when I'm alone. Maybe that's the scary part for me. I look at others with such envy sometimes; at lasting love or dependence you can truly count on. I know I'm young. I'm also not hopeless. But sometimes there is this pit in my stomach with a thousand arms reaching out. Everyone wants to love and be loved; I am certainly no exception. It seems as if the pen only flows on paper for me when it's about my heart. Not always, but often. I'm continuously trying to swallow the relationship I have with my family and only become more and more removed. It's for the better, this I can trust. But sometimes I think that's the root of all my heartache - it's not always about one specific person. It's usually about me and where I come from, in addition to where I am going.

I think at times I get so caught up in the big picture that I forget the steps I'm taking only have life if I am living them in the moment.

I'm sick of to-do lists. I'm sick of consistently thinking I'm not good enough or there are more faults than good to who I am. Deep, deep down, tucked away somewhere that never see's light, I know that these things are not true. I'm just not so sure how to take control of them yet. This is where the lonely sets in. I bottle so much up and expect myself to be a master of all trades, including being my own therapist and fixing any struggle I might be feeling stuck on.

I'm an open person but I don't actually open up very often. And when I do, I get distracted and I loose focus on me. I suppose when I finally meet and open up to the right person, I wont lose focus, huh? In the end it all seems to be about survival. We really can't take our lives too serious, can we? I guess we should just love as much as can and to as many people as we can. It's not all reserved for one person. 

August 26, 2010 | Storybook Summer

It's the first sunny day after almost a week of rain. I'm sitting at Stonybrook park. Everything looks so healthy and awake - ready for its last few weeks of summer to settle. The grass actually looks like grass now. It spent all summer looking like hay, completely dried out and baking in the sun.

This was a good summer. It actually felt like summer. With all the token attributes like popsicles and dancing in the rain. I spent countless nights on a blanket at the pond; with music, sangria, beautiful company and an always stunning sunset. I danced barefoot in the park, meditated and practiced yoga on the grass surrounded by trees and under the sun. I played on playgrounds, swung across monkey bars and stared at the moon from the top of a slide - way more than once. I spent entire days at the beach, got covered in sand and floated in the ocean. I fell asleep with salty skin wrapped in sweatshirts as the beach days turned into cool summer evenings. I ate ice cream and got to know strangers.I painted my toes bright yellow and embraced dozens of freckles on my nose - each one proof of a hot summer day well spent. I got tan lines and sun burns. I slept in tents and canoed down rivers. I spent entire days in my bathing suit, played in sprinklers and fell asleep on blankets in the grass. I roasted marshmallows and watched meteor showers; I got bug bites and scrapes that each mark a spontaneous night time adventure. I rode bikes, sat on benches and listened to the birds sing each other their sweet songs under the street lamps. I found myself surrounded by the most beautiful of people.

I let others in and I let some others go. I faced some fears and shook weights off my shoulders that were beginning to feel like my second skin. I skipped rocks and allowed my heart to be free. I put away my makeup and felt the sun kiss my bare skin for the first time I can remember. I was taught how to feel beautiful. Beautiful in every flaw, every failure, every triumph and every sorrow. I was able to look in the mirror and see my own eyes staring back at me. I felt the blood running through my veins more furiously than it ever has. I took the polish off my fingers and welcomed the dirt to get stuck under my nails. I learned how it feels to let go with a lover; to let every inch of my body sink into the feeling of pleasure and trust.

I found the world opening its arms, not once, but every time I took the moment to open my eyes.

. 

July 2, 2010 | It's Not That Serious

I'm exhausted right now. I want to be naked on a beach somewhere, being blinded by the sun.

I've been up far too late and far too early this entire week.  I'm happy to get back into a routine that starts in the early morning, though.  It feels good to have the entire day ahead of you.I'm starting to realize how captivated I get by the sky and the nature around me.  I've always appreciated it but lately I could stare up at the sky for hours, just thinking... or even just breathing.  I think my body and my mind are finally calming down; finally finding some peace within my own self.  I've been reading this book on mindfulness and the importance of breath and meditation.  I haven't read much but I'm soaking it up. Everything can be brought back to your breath. As soon as my mind starts to stray, it remembers to instantly listen to my breathing. The focus takes all my distractions away. Maybe this could be a natural remedy for ADD. Regardless, listening to my breath throws my mind into perspective. It calms me. It really does remind you that life truly is not that serious. Not to say life doesn't have value or that things don't hold importance...but this is all temporary. 

A lot of the woes and stress in every day life can make people so rigid at times. We turn ourselves into robots voluntarily - at times without any awareness at all. I like living simply. I don't want to own a lot of things. I love that I have this undeniable freedom that could take me wherever I want to go. That's incredible. I wish I could remind everyone to breathe. When it feels like someone's world is crashing down - or even my own - we just need to remember to keep breathing. At one point in time none of this even existed. We didn't even exist.  And someday that time will come again. Life can seem so long at times, as if our lifespan is the eternity of the world. But really it's gone in the blink of an eye. 

Everything is temporary and nothing is permanent. I suppose that could sound gloomy at times. It's not meant to be; at all. I'm just coming into this realization and this comfort that my life is meant to be lived well and happily. It's not meant to fill a glass or be the "American dream" - which really holds no substance anyway. Life is actually meant to be lived. Yes I get the importance of being a dutiful citizen in this society but I also understand we created such things; like money. I HATE money. But we created it. And now it's a necessary means for the world we have made for ourselves. Some things you just can't get around. I mean, I'll be realistic...I'm not saying I wish money had never been created...well, maybe I am. But that's a world which is unfathomable to me as it seems our world spins better for those who have full wallets. We've created such a system. We're all in it. I just wish people would take the time to realize that before this system was in place people lived purely to survive. I guess we still live to survive but we no longer live to survive in our hearts. It seems like now everyone lives to survive on paper, in the media, in the news, in the gossip at the dinner table. 

It's not that serious. We're missing something here, missing the point of actually living and breathing and remembering that every single one of us will come and go. Everyone single one of us will die someday. And others will be born. They will live their lives and carve their footprint and then they too will die. I would hate for my life to be spent in a struggle to continuously "keep up."

There is no person here that has more stance than others. We're all human. We were all given this incredible gift to live a life on this earth. Not all of us have been given the opportunity to live it freely and that doesn't make any sense to me. It never has and I am certain it never will. We all have heartbeats and blood running through our veins. We all get hungry, we all need to sleep. We're all just human. The ground we walk on does not belong to anyone. It's simply here for everyone. 

November 18, 2008 | Impact

Change is so important to me.

Making this world a better place is really what I want to do.

July 24, 2008 | I Want A Hug

When things are new and scary I could almost instantly burst into a huge river of tears. Maybe not because I am depressed and unhappy but because I have the molding of my life at my fingertips. And sometimes that realization shuts me down, scares me off and leaves me feeling so small in a world so big.

Being able to grasp that idea, that the molding of life is at my fingertips, seems like it should be glorious and heaven-sent. I understand this so why am I so afraid? Fear will never win me over and stop me from moving forward so why am I so scared of everything right now?

I want a teacher. I want to soak up someones wisdom, advice, teachings. I want to learn from someone else's knowledge. I want to be taught and I want to learn. I want to excel and master something that has always intimidated me. I want to grow.

I want to be ambitious and tackle all of these things. I am confident in myself that with time I will. But before that journey begins, I just wish I could be held. I want someone to wrap my arms around and someone to wrap their arms around me...to be told that it is all okay. I miss that touch.

July 29, 2008 | Struggle Is Exhausting

Almost August. Where does time go? It always slips right out from under you. I hope I am making the most of my time here. I suppose I am the judge of that one though. I just want to make life work. I am so afraid of failing at it. Doesn't sound very like me to view it that way. Struggling is exhausting me and though I can always learn from it, I want to try a new lifestyle.

There is always a bill to pay or a worry to have. Part of me is frightened to reach a point in my life where there isn't a stagnant rain cloud. Is it really possible to have that life?

Everything feels like it's about personal control. Can you control your pain, your happiness, your emotions? I think yes. So does this mean you should be able to control your state of mind, no matter what the stress?

July 10, 2008 | Starting Over

I'm not doing so well having my life in a standstill like this. I need some purpose for being here. I am having a very, very hard time with that.

So I moved to California. What's next? God I wish I knew.

I feel like I'm going to burst into tears. I don't want to be alone out here. I don't know how people start all over. It's so hard. 

This has surely turned into one gloomy day. Sometimes I wonder why I keep a journal. Just a reminder of how upset and alone I am? Really, I don't know.

I have never been homesick like this in my entire life. Not when I moved to Boston, not when I moved to my fathers. I can't keep a smile on my face for the life of me.

There is some sort of magic in the idea of following your dreams. As if the thought glitters and sparkles in your head. That's exactly how the idea of this move appeared to me. It danced around with this feeling of excitement and freedom. But now I'm here and that's all gone.

So then what is my dream? I made it here but now what? Was that really ever the goal I was after, just to move? No matter what I do or where I go, I continuously feel like I am not getting enough out of my life. I'm just not happy.

School was the second half of my dream. It was to come to California and study. Maybe I am just overwhelming myself right now; trying to tackle it all at once. Then again, we live in a society that is so pressured to be on the go, checking off to-do lists and progressing our self worth - whatever it may be.

What's the point in even writing.

July 7, 2008 | Why Is This So Hard

"You didn't leave too soon. The newness is wearing off a bit that's all. You can come home to visit anytime. I am so proud of you for doing this. Hang in there. All of us aren't going anywhere and I bet if you asked we would all say we wished we were you.
Find a spot that you can go to when you are questioning the move to help you see that you made the right choice. I always went to the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge and looked at the view of Frisco when I found myself being overly homesick. I miss you."
                                         -Stephen Spaloss (copied from an email) 


When you stop dreaming it's time to die.
When life gets hard you have to change. 

June 12, 2008 | California Dreaming

A new page for a new chapter, or maybe even a new life.

I'm here. I'm finally and actually in San Francisco. Ahh, dreams really are at your fingertips sometimes. For years and years I have been imagining this move. And here I am, laying on Baker Beach and staring at the Golden Gate Bridge.

I couldn't be more content of more thankful for my life than at this very moment. Dreams are what make it worth it. I really do believe that. 

November 26, 2007 | Love of A Woman

There's something mysterious and addicting about the first woman you find attraction for. You don't understand what you're feeling. It's so new, but you know that you want to know more. You want to keep that feeling - that beating of your heart and the butterflies in your stomach - you know what you want to keep it close. You want to find out everything about that feeling and make it last forever.

I was caught in love with the mystery of the feeling.

The end result wasn't meant to occur any other way. We followed what we felt and as painful as that may be sometimes, you'll always be able to settle on knowing you were true to yourself. 

November 13, 2007 | There's Always Something

I wish I could just throw my hands up and say I give up. The clock keeps ticking and the world keeps spinning but sometimes it feels so hard to keep up; as if tomorrow comes before I can sort my thoughts on today. Today seems so small compared to the future I have ahead of me. But today is also all I have.

I want to be fearless. I want to be okay when things are rocky. I want to have the strength of will to keep pushing no matter what.

I haven't given up yet, so I must have something.

It's not that I don't think I'm strong enough to handle things, it's that I want to learn how to find the beauty in being hurt by certain things. I suppose that sounds a little strange. But even in pain, at least in some, there has to be something - no matter how small - that you can take away and learn from. Maybe you find out something about yourself, or learn a side or strength to life that you never saw before. There has to be something beautiful that stems from the aching. There has to be. 

October 2, 2007 - Thanks Mom

I stare at this journal way too often and debate whether or not it's worth writing down my thoughts. Truth is, it's always worth it. But I either don't want to think anymore or I get overwhelmed thinking about converting everything I feel into words on paper. It puts everything in a different light. It's easy to throw your hands up in your mind and shut off your thoughts. When you put something in writing it stares back at you. Allowing you to read your own words over and over. Does seeing the way I feel across lines of a notebook make it more or less real? I've always struggled with pulling out a pen and being okay with capturing what I'm thinking. I always wish I had done so but for some reason it seems so stressful at times. Of course, leave it to me to find stress in writing a journal. Ha.

A million and one things are constantly running through my head. When I go to break them down and sort out what's really on my mind, all I keep circling around is this wonder of happiness and satisfaction. I guess the two can go hand in hand. Satisfaction usually makes you happy and being happy usually keeps you satisfied. So who came first? The chicken or the egg?

I learn more and more every day that happiness seems to fuel every desire and outlook I have on life. I don't get the idea of "searching for happiness" or this hope to "just be happy someday." It's not like there is this big gold pot of happiness at the end some rainbow. It's not out there waiting to be found. It's created. I'm learning what creating that feeling is actually like. But I really don't see it as a destination at the end of some eventful journey. Is it weird for me to think it's such an every day thing? That you make your happiness daily and shape your satisfaction of life? Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who thinks this way. Sure, to some I have this young and fresh view of the world but I know me. I know what thoughts are naive and innocent and I know what ideas and passions of mine are just part of my spirit, part of my soul - one I was given graciously by my mother.

I guess with that mentality there is no excuse for me to wonder if I'm happy or not, huh? It's my choice. That perspective has definitely been handed to me by her. The idea that happiness is mine daily if I choose to create it. It comes from the inside. All my mom wants is for me to be happy. And I didn't realize until writing this that she found a way to give that gift. She found a way to put it in a box, tie it with a bow and pass it on to another being without ever saying a word. You can't realize these gifts that are so far from tangible until you find them in yourself. And you'll never find them without the belief in others.

I love you, Mom.