they day i adopted kolby.

i just emailed his foster parents with a recent photo of him. they sent me this. it's at petsmart, the day i adopted him.

ah, avocado.

i'm trying to start running again. that means i've run 6 miles so far this week. seeing as i've run zero miles since april, six is feeling pretty good. and my muscles are feeling pretty angry. 

after running, i wasn't THAT hungry. so for dinner, i ate an entire avocado. with salt on it. and um, can i just say it was the best dinner i've had in awhile. i know it had 35ish grams of fat, but who cares. it's almost all healthy fat anyway.

i love me some avocados. and now, i'm out and need to replenish my organic stash.

and as a side note, the base-bumping at this hour needs to stop. thanks.

the details.

at the concert, this really eccentric guy was nasty dancing with some other guy's girlfriend. the way he was dancing was enough to make us vomit. he would bend over, stick his butt in the air and rub it in the girl's face. we kept shrieking. then, when he didn't know we were looking, he pulled out his unit and started swishing it about. that's when my sister said, "i'm getting the police." so they came and told him to leave.

matisyahu played FOREVER. b and i left early and got home around 11:30. when we went inside to get kolby, we almost ran into a man coming down the walk. he was short, wearing a bright yellow polo and shorts. after grabbing kolby and his leash, we headed back to the door and saw the yellow-shirt man in the entryway, acting like he was trying to buy a soda. he walked out into the yard area before we were in the entryway. (but by BEFORE i mean like, seconds before.) when we got outside, he was nowhere to be seen. kolby pulled over to a plot of mulch and began to pee. that's when i said, "where did that guy go?" almost as soon as i said that, i noticed b going up to some bushes on the left. all of a sudden b said, "are you hiding from someone?" and the yellow-shirt man STOOD UP OUT OF THE BUSHES. that's when i screamed, "oh my god." my heart was pounding and my reaction was FLIGHT. well b's reaction was FIGHT. his whole body puffed up and he sort of got this look on him and basically put his body in the man's face until the man just got out and walked away.

that's when i pulled him by the arm and said, "we are going INSIDE. i am calling the POLICE and getting my PEPPER SPRAY."

so we went inside and did just that. the police came by but didn't find anyone.

this guy was about 5'6'', 45 to 50. shaved head. tan. well kept. yellow golf shirt, navy shorts. boat shoes.

and that's that.

true story.

i just called the police because there was a man hiding in the bushes. no joke. i saw my life flash before my eyes.

earlier, at matasyaho (spelled wrong,) my sister went and got the police because a guy was exposing himself in front of us.

i'm tired, but will provide details later.

right now.

i am craving waldo pizza. thin, thin crust.

also, sushi train.


and all i have in the fridge is leftover goodcents.

smiling.

paula dean's brother's name is bubba. perfect.

also, she is currently browning sausage in butter and bacon grease.

yeah, i'm at home sick today.

nervous tics.

i still needed to stand on that stool to drink from the water fountain. something i did several times a day. it was an old fountain, which i imagined dirty and filled with rust and muck and whatever else had accumulated through the years. but i drank from it anyway. mostly because i needed an excuse to leave class.

i was standing there, clutching the globe hall pass in my right hand, pushing the button with my left hand, trying to not spray my glasses or my nose or my frizz-ball hair with thick, mom-cut bangs. i must have gulped for several minutes. and then before i left the stool, i turned around and flipped my hair forward, using my whole head. you know - like headbangers do. i did this five times. then, left the stool and went back to class.

as i sat at my desk, i paid close attention, answering questions followed by snorting. i'd snort and snort and then flip my hair again. and there was something so intensely private about what my brain was telling my body to do, that i figured my actions were invisible. i'd just get this urge to flip my hair, and i'd flip it. i'd hear my brain say, "snort, jessica...just do it!" and so, i'd snort.

i continued this pattern at home. and after amy was born, i began a new tic -- telling my mom every time i touched anything and then touched my mouth, eye or face. so car rides went like this: dad and mom in the front. evan, jessica and amy in the back. amy in carseat, getting lots of attention from mom. evan memorizing his bird cards or times-tables or something, and me reapeating a list of what i saw as offenses. "mom, i touched that thing and then i touched my mouth. and just now i touched that dirty air vent, and then i touched my eye." this would continue until we were safely unloaded from the car and back in the house where i would go straight to my room to make sure no one had moved my collection of teddybears and that the way i'd arranged my things on my dresser was still perfect.

the tics didn't stop until i was sleeping. and even then, they haunted my dreams.

landed.

you'd be happy to know that i faced something today that i was dreading. and for once, the anxiety didn't get the best of me. i wanted to be the bigger person. the nice one. the smiling one. the one with a bit of good advice. the one void of an icy stare or gaze or a chest-crossed, folded-arms stance. and while the anxiety wasn't bubbling, i can't say i was completely absent of any of that.

i waited in the sun with my arms crossed. then, caught my reflection in the window and uncrossed them. i leaned on my right foot, then my left. i ran into a coworker who was going into the bank, too. he tried to talk to me, but i just kind of looked at him blankly and said, "i'm waiting."

i kept waiting. checking my car that was overstaying its welcome in the 15-minute parking space. because i was early. i'm always early.

it was hot in the sun, so i moved to the shade. and then it happened. the thing i was dreading. and no matter how calm and collected i pretended to be, my brain was being bombarded with these old feelings of inadequacy. which was awesome. and totally my fault in the moment. but still, awesome.

and anyway, i've learned a lot of things lately. like i don't need to change so that someone will love me. and i don't need to try to be someone i'm not. and you can't fit a square peg in a round hole. ever. and i've made decisions based on what i believe is true. and i've redefined truth. and i'm seeking and learning and growing and loving. and i've made big, adult purchases on my own without taking myself into the pits of debt. and i've been blessed with much. and i've been dealt much pain, too. in the form of illness. and spurts of anxiety and the kind of depression that isn't chronic, but that sneaks up in the quiet of a dark room that seems too empty for what you're used to.

and i've stuffed some feelings down deep. covered by glasses of wine, or a 6-mile run. but i'm slowly dealing with it all. and as i process, i realize how broken i really am. as a person. as a human. and how i have this place inside me, this yearning for something bigger than me. greater than me. for a purpose and a mission and for a stage on which to make a difference. and then, i remember grace. and what that means, and i smile. and tell myself i WILL make it to church on sunday. and i start to prioritize things like god. and spiritual matters.

so i sing to Him, these lyrics from ben folds. and for one of the first times, i think i really mean it.

"dreading the sea of a trouble mind, had to leave myself behind. if you wrote me off, i'd understand it. cause i've been on some other planet. so come pick me up, i've landed."

the one i didn't want to write.

yesterday, i did something i try never to do. i got on a scale. looking at the number in disbelief began a series of events that warrant some closer looks.

first, the panic set in. my stomach dropped to the floor. everything around me felt busy and out of place. i got light-headed, sat down and then began to have an anxiety attack. that's when i called my sister. she talked some sense into me. reminded me that weight can fluctuate up to five pounds. told me that doctor's-type scales usually weigh heavier. promised me i look the same as i always have. but then she said, "i know how you feel though. if i was on medication that was making me gain weight, i'd freak out, too." she gets me.

see, the weight gain, insignificant as it may be, made me feel inadequate. out of control. like a failure. stepping on that scale was like leaping back into my high school, eating disorder-ridden body. the body that lived with a mind that thought self-worth was based on numbers. like grades. weight. and gpa.

i began my battle with body image at 12. but since last summer, i'd really come a long way. like for once, i felt pretty. and for the first time ever -- desirable.

but here's the thing, i hear people all day long commenting on other people. "have you seen so and so, she's gotten huge." or "wow, so and so has really been packing it on." and "what happened to so and so? she blew up."

and while on the inside i'm like, geez, that person must be insecure if they have to constantly comment on somebody else's inadequacies, i still am thinking, "gosh, is that what people are saying about me behind my back?"

and anyway, yeah.

and the freakout begins...

i can't breathe. i don't understand why i have to deal with this issue again.

good news.

wherin it's confirmed my doctor is a butt hole.

i'm getting a second opinion on thursday. for the IC. so i needed my medical records from my current IC doc. first, i had to PAY to have them sent to me. 15 sweet dollars. but they made it to my mailbox and today, i opened them.

that's when i began to read all of his "notes" on "patient." let's just say they were less than nice. filled with judgment. including lines like, "patient is not willing to take medication that will sedate her or cause weight gain. so this will make her treatment difficult."
that line doesn't seem too bad until you read this one, "patient came to me with lots of questions. spent 35 minutes answer her inquiries. it is clear that she doesn't listen well and picks and chooses what she wants to hear."

what?

anyway, i'm furious. because his entire staff has read this book of notes on me in order to "figure out" how to best treat me. and since i don't just nod my head and say, "yes, doctor, put me on 13 prescriptions, give me chemo and make me gain 40 pounds," they think i'm difficult.

last i checked, that's just called being my own advocate.

seriously. i'm fuming.

pensive girl...now with more antibiotics!

so i have an ear infection. a bad one. that's cool.

peace out girl scouts.

love this, too.

love this.

when i know what is not, i am closer to knowing what is.

quick hits.

last night, i had these dreams that were so real it was insane. i woke up emotionally shaken and proceeded to cry for five minutes.

then, i put my contact in but the acidic solution hadn't neutralized over night, so my already teary eyes got crazy-red and waterlogged.

on top of that, i haven't been feeling "great" lately when it comes to my muscle/IC issue. and at physical therapy today, she massaged so deep into my abdomen that i kept gasping in pain.

but i'm supposed to find something positive today, according to bop. so here goes...my new bed is really comfortable. like, REALLY. and last night, kolby was so well-behaved, i almost forgot i need to enroll him in dog training.

and also, i have this incredible gift in the form of a person. and this great person even goes places with me like physical therapy, so he can learn how to help me, too.

that's a positive, right?

right.

what was.

this house
with yellow walls
and blue shutters
and a bouncy dog on the back of the couch

--- this house ---

is no longer mine.

but sometimes, it comes to me in dreams
when i'm sleeping
or awake
and i remember its rooms
and the life that such a little doggy
could bring to something often dismal.

and on those days,
in those moments --
my soul shrinks inside itself
and this hollow pain creeps back in
and then, the tears...
oh, the tears.

and for dinner...

i had escargot. followed by a fillet the size of my head atop lobster claw meat and bubbling boursin cheese. this was accompanied by asparagus and deep-fried balls of mashed potatoes.

half a bottle of organic chardonnay, and a "muse" of beef carpaccio.

oh and really great french bread.

and a house-made truffle to finish the meal.

it was fabulous.

i got the bed.

and this is the story of the delivery.

i get the call from the pottery barn delivery team that they are downstairs needing to be let in. i walk downstairs, open the door, and the slickest looking thug i've ever seen looks me up and down. twice. (i hadn't showered yet and was wearing workout clothes, so let me tell you how hot i was.)
after that, he asks if i could show him where the bed is going to go. i was like, "um, i live on the fourth floor, so why don't we just go up there once."

i proceed to hold the door for the two delivery guys while they traipse in and out with my bed parts. from that vantage point, i was able to see the slick one check out every girl that walked by...followed by an audible "oh, baby."

yeah.

so, we get upstairs with the bed and the toolbox, which is when i positioned myself close to the front door -- just in case i needed to bolt. that's when the slick guy says (from the bedroom,) "man, we got to build this bed sturdy cuz it's gonna be rockin' tonight, booooyyyy."

yeah.

then he starts telling the other guy about how now, he buys all his own stuff so he appreciates it more. you know, he doesn't steal it anymore and stuff.

okay.

then the other guy goes, "dude, did you see me on t.v. the other night for domestic violence. shit!"

then, the slick guy begins to rap the following freestyle verse, "we be poppin' champagne just like we won the championship game, BOOO."

and really, i can't even begin to describe the obscurity that occurred as well as i should be able to. i'm still in shock, i think.

riddle me this.

had a gus missing dream again last night. this time, my dad was supposed to be watching him. a few months later, i asked my dad how gus was. and, well, he didn't know. because he had gone across the street one day to have a green tea and the door hadn't latched all the way. 40 minutes later when he returned home, gussy was gone. he put out a $12,000 reward, but nothing ever turned up.

if i hadn't asked, he wasn't going to tell me.


strange, no?

and in other news, gussy's birthday is in four days. i miss him. (obviously.)

...AND

tomorrow night is my celebration dinner!!!!
i'm excited.
you can even order kangaroo there.
not that i will.
but the fact that it's an option is incredible.

tonight, though, i'm hanging out at the american legion. which is fun for an entirely different reason.

losing all modesty.

thanks to kolby, these are the kind of conversations i have with complete strangers.

scene: ground floor of pensive girl's building. pensive girl and kolby are running through the hall to try to catch the elevator. stranger carrying a briefcase and wearing a backpack is holding the elevator.

pensive girl: thanks! (come on kolby, get in the elevator.)

stranger: what kind of dog is that?

pensive girl: a chihuahua terrier mix.

stranger: (bends down to attempt petting kolby.)

pensive girl: um, he pees on people. he's a submissive peer. i'm working on that, but he WILL pee on you.

stranger: oh, well i don't want to cause you any trouble.

pensive girl: well, it wouldn't exactly cause me any trouble. it would cause you trouble though.

elevator reaches pensive girl's floor, and she exits, hanging her head in shame.

on gus and abandonment.

i've been having reoccurring dreams about gus. in the dreams, i'm always living in the house i grew up in. but, i'm not 12 or even 17. instead, i'm 28.

the dream usually begins with me inside the house walking by the back door as i look for charlotte, the golden retrieve we had when we lived there. but as soon as i realize it's 2008 and she is not alive, i also realize that OMG my parent's left gus outside for a few weeks without letting him in. i run to the backyard where i start to look for him. he comes running to me, but he looks very dirty and different. that's when he takes me to the hole where he's been living. at that point of the dream, i either wake up or sneak him inside for a bath.

last night's dream was a bit different.

i walked outside and there came gus, running to me like crazy. but his hair was white and curly. and you could see through to his skin, which was badly cut and blistered. and he bit me, because he'd become a "wild" dog. i went inside and started to freak out. and then i learned that he'd only been outside for a few weeks and that if i brought him inside, he might begin to remember how to be civilized. so i brought him in and gave him a bath and introduced him to kolby and took the two of them on a walk and then, found a kennel for gussy wussy and put him in it for the night.

that's about when i woke up. with this incurable ache and a pit in my stomach.

and it hasn't gone away.

scared

because of this

breaking news.

"BREAKING NEWS PETROLEUM FIRE JUST WEST OF WHEELER DOWNTOWN AIRPORT." okay. here's the deal. i was watching the news due to the severe weather and possible tornadic developments, let's be honest. i hate tornadoes. with a passion. when i have a nightmare, um, it's tornado related. okay, so that's the truth.

so, i'm watching the news and they're all like, "the tornado threat has lessened, we will break in to the scheduled programming only if it's an actual tornado warning." so i'm all 'yeah, i totally trust brian busby, i'm going to enjoy my regular scheduled programming now.'

no more than two seconds later, they break back in. with this fire story. the one where the PETROLEUM is burning. by the 100,000 GALLON. so, i look to my left, out the window. and, blam. there's the fire.

so, yeah, i'm wondering what i'm breathing.

and what i'll be breathing tomorrow, when i go to work.

that's all.

this is me, too.

i'm also the girl who may or may not tell you that my dog just peed all over you when you bent down to pet him in the elevator.

me choosing to tell you will likely depend on a few things.
1. how DRUNK you are
2. how much larger, stronger and able to beat me up you are.

if i meet you somewhere less private and hidden, such as the hall, i'll likely say "omg, i'm sorry, he's peeing." as he sprays urine all over your foot.

then, you'll say "um, oh, uh, um, that's okay."

but we'll both know you're lying.

my niece and i.

hi. it's me.

i'm the girl who likes her new haircut for one day.
and then hates it.
i'm the one who goes to the pool when she's bloated and wishes it was sweat-suit season.
hi, let me introduce you to me.
i'm messed up.
see, i've been conditioned to compare -- and to decide, always, that i lose.
i'm the one who feels smaller. than her or her or her.
you know, not as funny.
or pretty. or tan. or tall. or thin. or smart.
i'm the one who will never be as witty as i want to be.
and i've never really see my reflection accurately.
because i focus on flaws.
and guess what? i'm insecure.
which is sometimes debilitating. crumpling.
life-sucking.
and it makes me want to
suffocate sometimes ---
because maybe that would be easier
than this life of always trying to be
someone i'm not.
tanner
blonder
smarter
faster
fitter
prettier
funnier
more full of grace
and gumption
and charm and whatever else it is
that i think too much about
on days when i can't seem to swim
out from in front of this distorted mirror.

yay.

i ate whatever i wanted to this weekend. meaning, i didn't stick to the IC diet. and miracle upon miracles, i felt fine.

the foods i added into my diet with no nasty side effects include:

HOT salsa
pickle slices (on top of awesome, free sliders.)
blue koi dumplings with soy-based sauce
blue koi china moon
blue koi basil chicken lettuce wraps
and...wait for it...
...CHOCOLATE.

i also ate a few samples of habanero cheddar at whole foods and felt fine, too.

so just as i suspected all along, it seems diet isn't a huge key to my 'condition.'

and in other news, my new mattress comes today. anyone want to buy my old one?