'this whole romantic love thing... it's just a projection, right?'

It just started snowing outside... it's an overcast Sunday and the only sound in my apartment is my ipod set on low.

Love is not a victory march / It's a cold and broken Hallelujah...

The snow starts falling harder

Raise your hopeful voice / You had a choice / Falling slowly, eyes that know me / And I can't go back Moods that take me and erase me/ Take this sinking boat and point it home/ We've still got time

Snow starts filling up the sunroof on my car.
I took a photo on Thanksgiving of the candle on the dinner table, as seen through my (mostly empty) glass of red wine.

Abstract, lines, light, deep reds. The rest of the weekend has had a similar feel.

Portrait of the past two days, seen through Polaroid snapshots:

Many games of Scrabble. "DragonPee", "alibi," "vicar"

Cellos and Lefthand beer with Meredith, leaving more cello messages for ourselves and for friends
("You play the top part" "me? Really? I don't know. I have shy toes right now")

Synechdoche, NY with Thad and Tom. (Thad- "I don't know what I didn't really like about it, but whatever it was, I just REALLY didn't like it about it") ("there are millions of people in the world, and none of them is an extra-- they're all leads in their own stories")

Sitting in coffee shops alone with Delillo's White Noise... getting thoroughly creeped out when he described terrorists hi-jacking a passenger plane and slamming it into the White House, "The president and first lady escaping with nothing but scrapes"... (published in 1985).

Staying up past 2am cleaning out two rooms of my apartment and scrubbing them down in anticipation of painting, and learning from Lance as I stood in my painting clothes bright and early the next morning that cold temperatures are disastrous for house painting days.

Pigtails and my new hat. Sweatpants. Meaningless tv. Putting off trips to King Soopers. Bemused by a sudden flurry of reunion invitations from elementary school comrades. (And being more inclined to attend a kindergarten reunion than a high school reunion)

Missing my friends from Hamilton and starting to understand the whole "you won't really appreciate it until you're gone" warnings about college. Wishing in some ways that I could re-do part of those four years... let myself off the hook a little, pull all-nighters in the library a little less often. Feel more confident about myself. Video tape all those wonderful comedy shows, so I wouldn't be left with just memories of Swedish accents, DeBeers riffs and 80s dance routines. Wear warmer winter clothing. Confront my adviser when he f*d me over and "forgot to give me honors" after every part of my heart and soul was poured into the work I had done for the past four years. Be brave when it comes to my personal life, and not just my academic life. Grilled sandwiches every day in -10 degree weather. Endless amounts of coffee.

I am plagued by questions these days... big-picture questions. Unresolved questions. Life-changing questions with no firm answers.
The stillness of the weekend helps me push them out of my mind.
Simply sit by the window and watch the snow fall...

sweet email for a nightcap

post script...

Earlier, I sent a long mooshy note to work to thank everyone for the exciting weekend in Philly.
Unexpectedly, I got the sweetest and funniest email back from Rose, one of our off-site sales reps who I don't know very well.
I love when someone says something really nice when you're down (totally coincidentally) . It makes my heart flop around like a goldfish in a carnival bag.

(other things I'm a big fan of today:
1. the kindness of strangers when you're traveling. someday i want to write a coffee table book about this... kind strangers are almost THE reason to travel. Even just the nonchalant guys who help girls who are struggling with their bags on airplanes. Best thing ever.

2. my list of words that I hate and almost can't say because they bother me so much. It's an impressively elite list that I stand by. Today's additions: maven; uranium

3. getting a haircut when I'm feeling blue (or feisty). I've been trying to grow my hair out forever, so whenever I have a real doozy of a day like today, it takes all the willpower I have to not march off to the hair salon and just ask them to start cutting at will.

4. numbered lists. and reiterating every month or so how much i love numbered lists.

5. the subconscious part of me that expects to find a long, hand-written love letter waiting for me every time I check the mail. Somehow, I started quasi-expecting to find one when I was about 11 (while checking the mail daily, neurotically, for one of my dad's manuscripts to arrive from NYC), and the thought has stuck with me ever since. Maybe someday it will happen. For now, it's still just Xcel bills and coupons for oil changes, which is all the romance a girl could ask for.)

From: Rose
Subject: RE: a ton of photos and enthusiasm from the Freddies

Jane - You are by far one my favorite people! I loved the photos, I loved the captions on the photos and your sense of gratitude and your attitude are just second to none! I am dying about the gates of hell comment that is SO LOL I love it. You looked stunning by the way! You should sign autographs at the company lunch- you’re practically a celebrity now!

From: Jane
To: Staff (;all;)
Subject: a ton of photos and enthusiasm from the Freddies

Good morning, everyone!

I’m back (and in a mild state of shock) after an intense 68 hour trip to Philly to accept the Freddie on behalf of everyone here. It was an incredible honor to represent our company… it was one of the best experiences I’ve ever had! Thank you so much to everyone for making such a meaningful, professional program, and for letting me take this trip.

Each Freddie recipient got whisked onto the stage to deliver a speech, and what I chose to say was:

“The people I work with are a passionate group who care very deeply about the importance of prenatal, childbirth and parenting education, and I’m thrilled to be representing my colleagues here tonight. For someone who’s very young in her career and in this industry, I’m inspired by the professionalism, dedication and passion of the people I work with, and of the people who are here tonight. On my first day as a video producer, I was in an edit suite alone, editing footage of a family meeting their newborn for the first time. It was the first time that I realized the impressive impact that healthcare media can have, so I am honored to be part of this wonderful celebration.”

Here are a zillion or so photos of the weekend (sorry-- you know how much I love photos…)

The view from the hotel! City hall, very eerie looking at night…

The ballroom… for each award, they would announce the category, the bio of the company that won,

and then turn off the lights to show clips from the video (on both screens, right & left). Then they’d

announce your name, and a live band would play a song as you nervously climbed the stairs, shook the presenter’s hand,

and walked (shakily) up to the podium to give a speech. Intimidating!! (we had to wait backstage before

our award, which was even more intimidating because there were producers and presenters running around with

microphones and ear buds, yelling “cue music, cue presenter! dim the lights! The Discovery Health Channel’s table needs more dinner rolls, go, go, go!)

Just after giving the speech and almost falling over when they handed me the award (Fred’s almost 10lbs!)…

The event lasted nearly 5 hours, so I had Freddie help the ladies freshen up their makeup

The art museum… the famous steps from Rocky (yes, I ran up all of them and yelled “Adriaaaaanne!” after singing the theme song. I couldn’t resist …)

Ben Franklin, appropriately seated inside the Franklin Institute

At the Gates of Hell! Incredible sculpture at the Rodin Museum entrance… (“The Thinker” is also in front. Very cool! I said to the family next to me, “I always wondered who I’d meet at the gates of hell”. Unfortunately, they were extremely religious and not amused by my early-morning humor, which I discovered when they told their 2 and 4 year old children that heathens like me would one day go through these very gates if we didn’t repent. WOW!)

Sculpture of the various constellations… incredible blue sky on my last day

Thanks again for an incredible experience. I brought the ‘brochure’ back with me, as well as an ‘inspirational book’ by the evening’s host, Daryn Kagan (an anchor for CNN)… both are on my desk if you need some reading material. Happy Monday, everyone

Jane K. Simmons
Producer

geese, at dusk, like shadows

Geese gather by the hundreds in the fields across from my office
They gather close together, lowering their heads and preening
Flocks forming a long black mass that is peaceful and still

The sky is deep pink, orange, and cobalt
Headlights cast a long, low beam across the cropped wheat fields
The geese look like an oil slick

A firetruck passes slowly, then a long line of cars with one person inside
Faces thinly illuminated by cell phones and radio displays
Darkness wraps around the fields until they are swallowed whole

I close the front door and rattle the knob to see if the lock will catch
My thumb follows the teeth of the key in my righthand pocket
The headlights from the highway make me squint, so I cast my face up to the dark dome overhead

Across the street, the sound of wings beating frantically against the still air
Feathered bodies launch into the darkeness
Straining to follow the motion, I stand alone and wonder which direction they chose


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

Feeling kind of trapped today.

I get up in the morning, shower, get ready, go to work. With the cooler weather, sometimes we don't leave the office at all (unless I duck out to the parking lot for a 1 minute voicemail check) and by the time I get out of work it's completely dark outside-- pitch black if I work late, which is becoming more and more the case. I make dinner and watch some news, or turn on some shitty tv, or read...I look outside at the darkness. I talk to friends who are close by or far away, I make bachelorette pitter-pattering around in my apartment. I send emails. I make plans. I go to bed. the cycle continues.

Such as it is for most people.

I feel stuck. I feel compelled to go to my parents' house all the time because my dad is sick, but sometimes when I get there, it feels like I should leave because he is irritable, or doesn't feel up to chatting. I've been working hard to get somewhere, and now that I've climbed the ladder to see the view, it turns out I don't actually want to pursue that course of action. Where to go now? I've worked very hard to be independent, but currently, the idea of striking out completely alone in a new city with a new dream is looking lonelier than ever. Heart-sickeningly lonely. Priorities scattered to the wind, catching the jet stream, moving in a hundred places at once.

I'm putting energy into things that do not want my energy.
I'm mostly to blame for expending that energy in the first place. Which just makes me feel small and deflated, for the most part.

Tomorrow's graduation for the class of parents I've been volunteering with. Will their kids remember me? Did they get anything out of our time together, or was I just their babysitter / disciplinarian? Did any of them like me? Were they just busy with their own little kid worlds?
What will happen to these families?
How many of these kids will have kids who will live out the same cycle?

I have a new book of cello music that just arrived in the mail. I would like someplace to play these songs, just to have a reason to keep callouses on my fingers and the satisfaction of making nice music in nice company. I don't want to have to start cold playing at places that have no resonance or meaning to me. It's a metaphor for everything else.

Just stuck. Very stuck. Will get unstuck.

I'm ok with making mistakes as long as nobody gets hurt... as long as I learn from them. But I don't want to make a mistake with my life. We just get one, and it goes so fast. I feel jittery about age for the first time in my life. I don't want to be someone who feels jittery about her age... certainly not at this age.

I went to let my dog out this morning-- it was startling. She's been dead for two years. Tonight at Vic's, a golden retriever waggled his white eyebrows at me and my heart melted with how much I loved him. Why can't people love other people the way we love dogs? Why are we so quick to take our affection away from our friends when it takes a dog dumping on our white carpet for us to raise our voices?

People are strange.

non-political pre-election list making

Things that I have recently fallen head-over-heels in love with:

1. 71 degree, 100% blue sky Sundays when literally the only thing you are capable of doing that day is sitting outside with a cup of coffee and a book

2. Ed Wood. And... because you can't love one without the other... Plan 9 From Outer Space. I love Ed Wood so much, I can barely sit still.

3. The realization that Johnny Depp has fake teeth in almost every role I've ever seen him in (different teeth... that's pretty much Stanislavski method, right?)

4. The Longmont Vacuum Store. Specifically, the Longmont Vacuum Store Parking lot while idling my car in the parking lot for 17 consecutive minutes, listening to "This American Life: Halloween Special" on NPR.

Things that are guaranteed to drive me up-the-wall, can't-even-stand-it, bat-shit crazy:

1. Leaving a message for someone before 8am that says, drama free but with important intent, "need to speak to you, please call me as soon as you get this". And even 24 hours later, when you know said person will never call you back, still being unable to turn off the watchdog in your brain that's on alert for the phone to ring. Guaranteed fastest way to make me want to eat my left foot from frustration

2. Spending an entire weekend in bed reading a book that builds into a chilling climax at the end, and 10 pages away from finishing the damn thing, you leave it at your parents house.

3. Phone messages that are buried in your phone's memory, only to be shoved in your face when the operator MAKES you review them to re-save or delete, at the WORST possible time, when those exact messages are guaranteed to make you so sad that you can't even operate heavy machinery

4. Trying to sleep when you have stabbing pain emanating from your lower right side. I can only imagine what it would feel like trying to sleep when you're pregnant... but this morning all I could think was... "I think I'd choose being kicked in the bladder over being stabbed by a bayonette in the ovary today. Yes. I choose foot-to-bladder".

Good thing we never really get to choose these things. That would just be messed up.

note to self

A quick post-it to myself until I can find a better place to store all these random post-its... and then I will delete it. Hopefully, soon... before I forget... Thad reminded me just now that if I don't chuck them into some kind of long-term memory, I'll forget (or become a revisionist historian to convince myself that I've been cooler and less klutzy in my life and miss all the good details), and none of these moments will make it into my memoir when I'm rich and famous and living with David Sedaris (platonically or not. It's completely his choice).

Today is a memoir moment day.
Not a chapter, but a moment.

Woke up after a very strange dream about living in Paris with a friend from Longmont and a bunch of mean, beautiful girls my age-- one of whom had started a list of who was most popular in the house, and I was very relieved to have been listed in the middle... forgotten and out of the line of fire.

Looked at my clock, decided that 8:50 was a glorious time to get up on a Saturday... started to sit up, couldn't move. I did a systems check... still felt cheerfully shitty from the general shittiness that comes with being sick, but something else was wrong.
It felt like I'd swallowed a lead weight, and it had gotten stuck in my chest.
I really barely felt like I could move.
So I hung out for a while, just watching the branches of my tree bed and the crack of light that had snuck in under my blinds. I practiced breathing like we do with the foster kids... we put a stuffed animal on their tummy and teach them how breathing deeply makes the animal go up high and then down very low.
In, out. The lead weight stayed. My legs and arms moved fine, but I felt pinned to my mattress like an exotic beetle in a shadow box.

Half an hour passed... I managed to get up and start my day, but the lead weight stayed. I felt awful. Totally zapped of energy, of cheerfulness... I felt like anybody but myself. Very low. Fuzzy, like I was underwater.

Had a glass of juice and started cleaning the kitchen. Then moved to the living room before getting overwhelmed... my apartment's still a war zone after I had to move everything out to paint. I spent 20 minutes looking for a tiny screwdriver for my broken towel rack, and then just fell horizontally onto the couch. The lead weight won. Remote in hand, I succumbed to an hour of zoning out. And the shittier the television, the more relaxed I felt.
That's when my inner monologue started a little chant:
Just 35 more minutes of watching Lifetime, and then you need to go buy vaccuum bags.

Ok. 20 more minutes of Lifetime to find out if fat, balding Freddie Prince, Jr. chases the girl after discovering she has Cystic Fibrosis, and then you really need to shower so that you can go to Longmont and buy vacuum bags.

Good girl! You showered and dried your hair! (Ignoring the fact that I stood in the shower for 30 minutes on autopilot without remembering to reach for the soap, shampoo, or conditioner. But these are minor details. Tepid running water is still good for you.) Now you have to put on clothes so you can Go. To. Buy. Vacuum. Hey-- what happened to the Cystic Fibrosis story, and what is Meryl Streep doing on this channel?

Thad called to invite me to a late lunch, and things were going fine until my voice cracked halfway through "I'm not sure". Naturally, it seemed appropriate to keep applying mascara to my upper lashes as I stood in my living room crying, with the sun streaming through and illuminating the brilliant chrome sheen of my ancient, heavy, bag-less vacuum (size A. Circa 1935.)

This is what we call a domestic Saturday. Washing my blue bandanna so I can wear it when I mop the floors tomorrow. Trying to apply mascara to the fat tears brimming under my lashes as Lifetime churns out one more cliched line after the next. (Uma Thurman to love interest: So, how long have you two been dating? Girl next to love interest: (falls silent) Love interest: Dating? I wouldn't call it that. I mean.... Uma Thurman: But you're together? Love interest: I don't think I like defining what we are. Girl next to love interest (blushes and looks like she's about to cry) Jane: (gouges mascara wand into her eye and curses the extra 10 minutes this will cost as she tries to get out of the house and away from the nefarious evils of television geared toward weepy single women)

Off to find socks.
To wear with the bright pink sneakers.
And the hideous sunglasses with rhinestones.
Must go find vacuum bags.