I don't quite understand how every year it seems like the holidays sneak up on us like some masked mugger at a deserted ATM in West Baltimore City.  Only you know, less violent & with more glitter.  I am trying really hard not to be a scrooge this year; last year was my first Christmas without my mom & for some reason it was easier to swallow than this year.  And I'm not entirely sure why that is because even when she was alive, all she really did on Christmas was nod out on the couch, complain about the food and go on and on (and on) about the cost of whatever cheap gift she had ordered me from the Fingerhut catalog.  A price, mind you - that would get exponentially higher in price as the night (and the illegal substances) progressed.

Oh, wow.  I sound so ungrateful.  Let me stop now.

I'm not ungrateful you know.  At all.  Everything (and everyone) that has come through my life has served its purpose.  Just because 2011 & 2012 have been particularly shit-filled years doesn't mean I should be ungrateful for the lessons hidden in the muck.  Despite the turbulence of this past year, I have a new job (that I love most of the time), a much better relationship with my ex-husband (which has come in handy in many, many ways), & I'm alive.  Though, just barely.  But I think that 90% of health problems in the general public (and for me) stem from a negative attitude & an unhealthy diet.  Both of which I am determined to work on for myself in 2013.  Because I'm really one good physical injury away from being one of those people that accidentally smothers the cat rolling over in bed.  If I had a cat.  Mostly, I hate cats.  But that's for another time & another blog.

There's a short story by Tolstoy called The Death of Ivan Ilych that for some reason struck with me as having a powerful message.  Google it online and I'm pretty certain that you can read the thing for free... you know, if reading is your thing.  I'm afraid there isn't yet a made-for-TV miniseries of it (at least I don't think) or at least not yet anyway.  I imagine if there were, that Shirley McClain would play the role of Ivan's bitch wife.  I digress... the book is about this fellow Ivan, who lives a life of progressively bad choices.  He's miserable, Ivan.  He hates his wife, his job situation has changed - no one appreciates him, no one takes his illness serious.  He feels, really, that no one loves him.  Not really anyway.  And the book - which starts off with his death (spoiler alert!) and then goes back to recount his life - has an important lesson.  One is (at least in my opinion, and this is probably the nurse in me): don't listen to naysayers concerning your health.  Poor Ivan should have sought out some proper help (or at least checked out WebMD) before he succumbed to a sickly demise.  And two:  don't wait until you are dying to decide that something in your life is worth living for.  Ivan realized that the further back he looked in his memories of life, that the more joy he had.  What irony!  How unfortunate to finally see so clearly when you are at the end of it all.  On deaths door and realizing the foolish choices you made when you could have experienced greatness rather than a poor, meager existence - it's so unfair! 

"He realizes that his official life and his family and social relations were all artificial".  

Poor Ivan.  Off to the pearly gates armed with the wisdom of what choices he SHOULD have made rather than the affirmation that the ones he actually made were for the best.  Talk about regret.  Let's let Ivan be an example here people.  Life is much too short to waste time on fake BS.  Life is also too short to waste energy & love & affection & time on those who aren't willing to do the same for you.  So remember this.  And for godsakes, go get that rash checked out.  It could be flesh-eating disease.

Seems like an odd place to end a blog, but so be it.  If I wait on finishing this one, I could die in my sleep tomorrow and no one would learn this important lesson.  Plus, I wanted to remind you that there is only a few weeks until Christmas and I would like something sparkly & expensive.  You know what to do. 

When I started this blog a million* years ago, I never anticipated that I'd eventually put it someplace accessible by anyone in the virtual universe.  That's why - for the most part - I don't share the intimate ins and outs of my life on here.  Occasionally, a little nugget of personalization will slip out for the masses, but I try to keep most things on a very long string.  An extra-long string, with some coverage for my personal items and a few turns for good measure.  I'm not stupid.  One day I might be famous (could too happen!) and I don't want anything in here to be put on TMZ.  Oh, stop yer laughing!

*this is an estimate

At least not about most things.  Everyone has stupid moments.  I'm sure Einstein came up with a few doozies before that whole E=MC stuff.  (I can't  figure out the HTML code to make a superscript 2... I bet Einstein could do it if he were here.  You think he was good company? Einstein?  Or do you think he was one of those smart types that was good at pen & paper & math and shit, but couldn't hold a conversation to save his life?  I imagine he liked to talk about himself a lot that Einstein.  He probably had personality disorder.  I could speculate here how much he looks like a homeless criminal from those photos floating around of him, but I've already wasted a ton of time in this blog going on and on about a subject that is both off course and terribly boring).

I'm sorry.  I don't even know where I was.  Oh, yes.  Stupid moments.  (See above). 

Anyway, I'm trying to be grateful this month.  November and all.  Occasionally I write blogs about holidays and the true meanings of them (see my thanksgiving blog from last year - which I could link right here if I weren't feeling particularly lazy and if I thought you would even care to click on it, but I know you won't.  You're so selfish).  Being grateful is so important to being happy.  I know that people (mostly the unhappy, cynical ones) would say "well, what on Earth do I have to be grateful about?" to which I could probably supply a million things - but the key to the grateful/feeling good connection is for you to RECOGNIZE these things on your own, see.  Otherwise, it's just some other person pointing out something and you thinking "well, I'm an asshole because I can't even come up with the stuff in my OWN life that other people can see".  Not that I'm calling you an asshole. You understand what I'm saying?   I know you probably don't, because I'm confused myself and I'm the one writing this garbage. Maybe I should be grateful that you're even still here.

Things have been on a general upswing for me in the past few weeks and I can't really decide if it's a shift in my attitude or an adjustment in the circumstances around me.  And, in all honesty, I think the two go hand-in-hand.  I'm a firm believer that if you change the way you think about life, life will change accordingly.  If you can somehow be happier, then life will hand you more things about which to be happy.  It's so true.... haven't you ever been around someone that just makes a room sorta light up when they walk in?  Or someone that you haven't seen in awhile and then when you do see them - you walk away feeling better & you don't even know why?  Or thinking "man, why don't I see that person a ton more?".  They have a good vibe.  You know?  That's how I'm trying to be.  Of course, it helps a lot that I've stopped worrying so much about other people and have shifted the focus onto myself.... and sorry if you're one of those people who I've been neglecting, but I've been neglecting myself for so long - see.  And that's no good.  Because (important lesson here) - you can't take care of anyone else if you can't take care of yourself.  It's like when that oxygen mask comes down in the plane and they tell you to put it on yourself first, and then put it on someone else that you might be assisting second.... it's like that.  I'm finally giving myself some oxygen. You'll get yours eventually when I'm done breathing some of mine in and after I finish this third bag of peanuts... I digress.

OK.  This blog is getting out of hand.  I blame all the booze I've been consuming today, my post-Halloween candy induced diabetic coma & the fact that I'm going on little to no sleep.  Oh, and I also blame David Petraeus & his extramarital affair...  (this isn't really to blame at all, but it seems to be a good cover for everything else that is going wrong, so I figure I'd throw this shitty blog into the mix.)

So there's the lesson for today, kids:

Be Grateful.  If you're reading this blog it means you have access to both the Internet, a computer and the able-body vision that so many people in this world would kill for.  It also means you aren't dead.  So be grateful.  (Did you know that Michael Jordan was rejected from his school basketball team and then went home, went to his room and cried?  After that - I imagine that he blew his nose, put on his size 14 shoes and stopped feeling sorry for himself.  You should try it). 

While you are here, enjoy these drawings & such that I found in old sketchbooks today.  I decided to take photos of them in case my house burns down and I lose them forever.  Or (probably unlikely) some sketchbook stealing robber breaks into my home and (no doubt out of frustration at my lack of expensive jewelry and major electronics) decides to steal my old artwork in hopes that one day I will be famous.  Enjoy:

Now is the time of year when I start to feel the overwhelming pressures of the holidays combined with the overwhelming cheerfulness of being grateful for everyone and everything I have in this life.  It's a lot at once.  The holiday pressure mostly stems from the fact that I'm financially in the hole & I'm not entirely sure how I will afford Christmas presents & such.  I know, I know - y'all are sick of hearing about my financial woes. (I should re title this blog "Financial Woes & Food Addiction"). I get it.  But I'm not stressing too too much about presents really and for now I'm feeling a little better about life in general, so a part of me realizes that it will all work out.  It has to.  Just keep this in mind when your gift this year is a card I made out of copy paper I stole from work and those free charity mailing labels that I keep getting.  (At least I am creative with my resources!)

I said it last year and I will say it again - I am glad this year is coming to a close.  Although, even as I type those words I realize that I'm going to contradict myself.  In the grand scheme of things, what difference does it really make that the actual number is changing? I mean, what is time in terms of years & months (hours even) as far as change is concerned?  If you lived in the now (which I'm trying super hard to do), the only time that really makes a difference is right now.  And see - that right now is already gone.  And you're on to this right now.  Right now.  I guess my point (if I believe there even is one) is that one could say "well, next year is going to be great".  Or "2013 HAS to be better than 2012".  But in reality, just make this moment awesome. Cause you ain't getting it back ya know.  Once it's out of here, it's gone forever.  (side note:  reading my blog *is* in fact, an awesome thing to do in this moment.  In case you were thinking of moving onto something else).  So the real lesson here is that you can keep telling yourself that something is going to change in the near distant future... or you can harp on something that has happened in the distant (or not so distant) past with your 'should'ves" and 'could'ves", but really all that crappy mindset is doing is messing up the moment you have this very second.  This one.  So knock it off.  And while I am doling out advice:  stop putting that diet off till tomorrow too because the average person gains like 48 lbs from Christmas to New Years*

*I think its closer to 7lbs.  But if I put 48 here, and then subsequently gain, say, 9lbs - I will feel way less guilty.  And that's all this blog is really.  A cleverly disguised therapy tool to make me feel better about myself*

Recently I ran in a 5K "mud" run where you basically heave your fat ass through a bunch of obstacle course type pit-stops and run a cumulative 3.1 miles while simultaneously getting disgustingly dirty & filled with sewage-smelling water (www.rebelrace.com).  I mean, don't get me wrong - the race was a ton of fun.  And despite the unfortunate chaffing in areas we won't mention here from swimming through a lake and then running for a bit, it wasn't terribly hard to complete.  I say this now.  But it got me thinking - athletic people will pay money for ANYTHING.  I paid (I think) 65$ to enter the thing.  Then another 10 to park.  Then I camped out, which I believe cost like another 65 bucks.  In the end, it basically cost like $200+ bucks to smell bad, be tired and sleep on a hard, cold ground in the middle of nowhere.  All the 20-somethings that were there camping (because I was seriously the oldest one of them all) talked about some of the other runs they've done where they've had to go through pits filled with ice water & walk across logs (suspended over mud pits?  Alligators?  Bags of doritos??)  Anyway, it got me thinking.... I think *I* will start my own 5K perhaps.  One where you are doused in BBQ sauce & a real hungry bear is chasing you or you get dropped off in the middle of south Baltimore wearing bags of crack cocaine suspended from your belt.  Run for your lives, indeed.  (My slogan could be:  You don't have to be first, but you really don't want to be last).  It could solve all my financial "issues".

I'm going to go now.  I'm home today with a terrible cold/allergy thing and as much as I like these meetings of ours, you spend way too much time talking about yourself and not enough time discussing my most favorite subject:  me.  Sike.  I'm just kidding.  I have some stuff to do.  November is a time for being grateful - it's so so so  important.  More important than a lot of other things that clog your brain with each passing moment & definitely more life-changing than the compulsive thinking of what you should do tomorrow or what you should have done yesterday.  Rest assured, people - that whatever life has in store for you is placed there for a reason.  Including this blog.  So the least you could do is leave a comment.

I have a bunch of blogs that I've started and then never gotten around to finishing.  Partially to blame is my adult-onset ADD.  I blame the rest of the unfinished blogs on the fact that my life is so chock full of activity, that a moment to myself at a keyboard is unheard of.  It's the same reason I neglect the gym.  And bathing.

I tried to start watching that show about Zombies.  Dead something.  I don't know why now I can't come up with the actual title.  The night of it's premiere, it was all I saw on Facebook... and you know, since I'm one of those if-everyone-on-facebook-is-jumping-off-a-bridge-I'd-probably-heave-my-fat-ass-over-one-too variety of people, I thought I'd tune in to Netflix & catch some of the old episodes and see what the hubbub is all about.   I watched exactly 15 minutes of the first episode.  That was all I could handle.  And it's not because it's not good - it's really good.  Or because I can't relate to the characters (mindless drones with bad teeth = most good citizens in my neighborhood), but it gave me a shit ton of anxiety.  It's the same reason that most of the zombie movies don't appeal to me.  Because I'm a wimp.  Ok, there I said it.  I'm like a 9-year old when it comes to that stuff and I will have nightmares for weeks on end and, frankly, I have enough in my brain to worry about without adding mutant dead people who want to eat your face to that list.  I thought yesterday about what I would happen if an actual zombie Apocalypse occurred, and I think I would just let them eat me.  What's the point in fighting that demise?  I can't even get a good night's sleep if there's a spider in my room that got away... and I'm going to close my eyes with zombies around?  I don't think so.  Of course, as with all things - I'm searching for the sliver lining over here... There's got to be some good points to being a zombie... here are a few I've come up with on the fly:

- No more dentist appointments
- Money saved on getting my nails done
- Invitations to family get togethers suddenly come to a screeching halt
- Abundance of fat people in this country means an endless resource of dinner
- My criteria for a potentially mate in life would change from responsible, honest & kind to just one thing:  dead guy.  (think of the potentially zombie online dating sites?)

Actually, I don't even know that much about zombies.  Maybe they don't need mates for life.  I mean they're dead.  (Mates for death?)  A zombie Apocalypse sure would put things into perspective though.  I bet less people would be worried about tax increases and health care reform.  My vote for president?  The guy with the most guns. 

This morning I was snuggled in my bed with two good looking men (my children, don't be perverted) - and we were all warm and snugly and being goofy.  I asked Wesley who he thought should be president - and showed him pictures of both candidates.  He responded: "They both look dumb".  Which, ironically, couldn't be more truth-bearing.  I asked the same of Wyatt (who insisted on giving his opinion too) and he said "Hulk" should be president.  Then when I asked him why, he had moved on to the new discussion topic of eating his own boogers.  They're not much for political analysis. 

It's not that I don't like debates about politics, it's just that all of the information out there (on anything, really) is biased and filtered and there really is no way to know the whole truth.  There isn't.  A lot of what we read we assume is given to us by some reputable source, but how can we really know for sure?  We can't.  The stuff that politicians say in debates, on TV, etc. has been weeded over by a team of people & what's left isn't even real anymore... it's extremely frustrating.  And some people would say that I'm cynical and untrusting of the government and I would respond that that's half true.  I'm cynical.  And I don't trust most people - not just government elected officials.  I thought I had more to add here, but I'm already bored with the topic.  I'd rather focus on important elections - like Dancing with the Stars.

(I don't watch that either.  Is it even on anymore?  What happened to Urkel?  Did he win?)

I'm going to work now.  Halloween is coming and I couldn't be more excited.  It's my favorite holiday and I'm always a bit sad when it's gone.  Go get a costume, preferably a non-slutty one, and go out and celebrate all things death-related.  And while we are at it, I guess we can add that to the list of zombie pros:

- Every year for Halloween?  I'm going as a zombie. 

Things change quickly in this existence - one minute you're heading into some tunnel full-throttle, in fifth gear... all systems go.  The next minute you're sitting on the curb, scratching your head and wondering where you took a wrong turn.  Maybe that's the lesson to be learned: that things are always changing... if you don't like the way things are going, hold your breath.  Nothing is permanent.  Well, nothing except tattoos and Herpes.  And really, you can pretty much come close to eliminating both of those things nowadays.  Or at least masking them both with heavy duty make up and some anti-itch cream.  You get what I'm saying....

I've done a lot of changing these past few months.  Hell, even the past year.  Just when I think I know what I'm doing, something comes along to nudge me into a new awakening.  It's as if life is saying "No Jess - it's actually NOT as simple as you hoped".....  And "no, your existence ISN'T what you thought it would be."  And - oh yeah - "THAT life event wasn't as you had previously planned it in your head".... Maybe, just maybe, life is saying "You know what Jess... stop worrying so much about how you THINK it will turn out and just live your life already".  Cause I sure don't feel like I have much control over anything anymore these days.  And what can I control really?  Nothing.  I can just be.

My name's Jess and I'm a compulsive thinker. 

Phew.  There.  I said it.  I think too much.  I'm one of the many people out there who forget to be in the moment while worrying about the crap decisions of yesterday and contemplating life beyond this exact moment in time.  Sadly, this is how we all live, I think.  Save the few of us who have actually become enlightened enough to see things for what they truly are.   And Oprah.  She just pays for someone to worry for her.  Gobs of money, I'm sure.  For the record: I could totally do that job, ya know.... I've got 30-some odd years experience worrying for and about other people.  I'm like an expert on empathy.  I could write a book on it titled "I feel bad that you spent money on this book".  Tad wordy, but gets the point across.

I remember once seeing a therapist - many moons ago after a failed relationship - and I remember her telling me this:  when people in any relationship make the choice to hurt you in some way (whether intentional or not), it's often based on fear.  See - the people that love you the most... the ones that hold you the closest to their hearts, they're usually the ones who feel the most comfortable with letting you down.  It's like they are saying to you "even though this is going to make you feel like shit, I can be real with you and I can't be real with anyone else".  So, essentially - you're the fall guy. Which, I guess on some level is supposed to make you feel better about what's happening to you, emotionally.  It's supposed to make up for all the bad feelings & heart break.  But it doesn't.  That has to come from within.

You're probably reading this and thinking "man, what the hell happened to funny Jess?  I sure wish she were here".  Well she's still around, rest assured... cracking jokes at other people's expenses and drawing perverted doodles into the margins of her work calendar while pretending to take care of old people.  I'm just a new & improved Jess.  Or at the very least - better conditioned Jess.  And I refuse to be bitter about all this change that's about... I'd rather use it as material for blogs, expensive therapy bills and lessons for you readers.  Because isn't that what life is about?  Learning lessons??

Somewhere in this mess, I started dating again.  I realized, of course - that dating sucks.  Sure it's nice to get to know new people... nice dinners... movies, concerts, 4-H festivals (don't ask)... but I don't get why people WANT to date.  It feels good to be desirable, on some level, I guess.  But it's a lot of work and its shitty.  I want to say on the first date "look, I'm new at this and I hate it and I'm getting old so stop being so nice and just tell me what your problems are so I can quit holding in my stomach and my vulgarity".  Only, you know, I don't say that.  Because that's not what you do.  You act polite and you say the right things and you hope that someone will like you for who you are.  Hahahaha.  And while we are on the subject of dating: personals online should only contain a minor amount of lying, cursing & incorrect grammar.  I get that we all have this masked idea about who we are as a person and writing "Importing & Exporting Goods" in the job section is fancier than "check-out boy at 7-11", but don't stretch the truth too much. Chances are that after a few dates, she's going to find out the truth about you. Might even win bonus points for honesty if you come right out and admit that you will ignore your date for a World of Warcraft marathon or that you spend way too much time fantasizing about Angela Landsbury.  I could build a whole dating website on being honest.  You'd have to post photos naked (you'd have to!) and then you could just list what your emotional weaknesses are.  I would call it www.truthhurtsdating.com.  I didn't even click to see if that really exists.  I hope it does.

Well, I'm gonna go now.  If for no other reason then I'm tired & I need a shower.  Feel free to comment.... and do yourself a favor: start living life.  I swear it's not as hard as you think. 

I think about writing in here way more often than I actually do.  Mostly because of time constraints.  And the fact that I enjoy it and usually I don't like to do enjoyable things for myself.  Which is part of my problem really.  My therapist says I put others before myself and that the only way to be happy is to realize that loving myself will benefit others more than anything I can do for them (ha!  Easy for her to say). I tried to manipulate this into getting out of paying for that particular session - but apparently, my self-love was supposed to start after I'd squared away the check and left the office parking lot.  Those therapists - they're sneaky bastards.  "Love yourself, but pay your bill".

At any rate, it's not easy having life toss you around violently for 12 months and spit you out - broken and confused... angry at times, even.  I'm mostly angry at myself because it seems like I continue to repeat the same patterns of irreparable damage in life.  Maybe somewhere deep down I hate myself and I enjoy, on some sick level, to be punished by the torment of bad decision.  I also think I tend to ignore signs leading me in the right direction in life.  It's like there's a spotlight and soft music on Path A and for some reason, I seem to want to keep wandering down Path B - the one on the other side - you know, the path with sharp thorns, dark corners and that creepy alternating two-note riff from the Jaws movie.  That's the one I seem to take all the time.

Relationships are so difficult.  I mean, not just romantic ones - but relationships in general.  I really believe that the key to keeping any relationship alive is to make the other person feel important (that's the first part) and to truly appreciate whatever it is that the other person does for you.  Bosses, take note - if an employee feels valued, he or she will do whatever you ask.  If you treat that person like shit (ignore them, criticize them, accuse them of having sex in the break room, etc.) - chances are they are not only going to continue said bad behavior, but start to care even less about the fact that they are doing it.  And once a person has checked out of the caring part of the relationship, you're basically screwed.   It's hard, very hard, to get that back.  I know - I've been there.  Once I had a job working at a children's hospital and I had a boss for many years that I absolutely adored.  She adored me back (at least I think), we had a great relationship at work, she recognized that I was an asset to the organization and I recognized that she appreciated what I did.  It was a total win-win.  This particular boss could have asked me to come in on Christmas morning to help out without pay and I would have done it.  Why?  Because I felt good being there.  Because I knew that she appreciated my hard work and my determination.  And because, on some level, I wanted to please her.

Ugh, people pleasing.  We are right back to where we started with this blog.  Anyway.... I digress.

I think the main reason that the divorce rate in this country is like 80% (it's actually closer to 50%, but I never believe statistics.  I think of the 50% that are married still - there are probably a good half that would either like to not be married, or who dream about choking their spouse in his/her sleep) is because married life is so different now than it was 50 years ago.  Values have changed.  People's expectations for what makes a marriage "happy" is dramatically different.  Roles are reversed.  And let's not rule out the fact that we have the Internet now so instead of watching hours of Camel News Caravan on the TV, husbands can now immerse themselves into all kinds of trouble online - via porn, and online dating and World of Warcraft.  It's a different universe now.   And if it weren't for the fact that I have a filthy mouth, no sewing skills whatsoever & a strong discourse to knee-high stockings - I'd rewind time (in my time machine!) and go back to 1958 when things were easier on women.

*please do not go all women's activist on me and leave comments about the suppressed women of the 1950's.  This blog is done in good humor and any reference to real-life events is purely comical in nature.  While I have you here - no one likes it when you go all statistics and know-it-ally about stuff so do yourself a favor and start keeping your trap shut.  I promise you will get invited to more parties*

I'm gonna go now.  I had more to say, but like many writings in blog-past, I have other more domestic activities in which to partake.  Don't worry though - I am going to really try to write more often. No really.  It keeps the demons at bay and it makes me less likely to sit fetal-position under the kitchen table rocking and moaning to myself.  Uhm, not that I do this.  Ever.   Don't forget to leave a comment - it's like people pleasing but in reverse. 

It's been months since I wrote in here and I'm sure you've missed me terrible.  Or maybe you haven't, I don't know.  No one has been beating down my door demanding I write more - that's for sure.  No one has complained.  At least not to my face.  There have been no pleading rants via facebook or twitter (except I don't twitter - and I wish, for the life of me - that someone would explain to me the point of twitter.... I just cannot get into it.  I've tried many times.  I have.  For reals).

The last 12 months have been, by far - the most tumultuous and angst-filled that I've endured yet to date in my (ahem) 35 years.  They've been amuck with loss & insults & sadness & a tremendous amount of change... starting with my mom passing away (one year ago today) and ending with the apogee of 2012 - the ultimate ending of my joke-of-a-marriage (more on that later).  Somewhere there's a list of significant life events (who created this list?  What makes them an expert??) and how they cause stress and, no joke, I've had like the top 10 happen in the last 12 months.  I think the only one that doesn't apply to me was "retired".  Here's the list if you'd like to check it out and see just how stressful your life has been. While you're there, maybe you can explain to me what "make redundant" means and who thought to include it amidst significant life events.  At any rate, my point is - it's been rough.  It's been such a significant period for me that I feel like it's my own fiscal year.

That would be a good album name.  My Own Fiscal Year.

Where was I?  Yes - so I'm really hopeful that the next 12 months will be a lot more positive than the previous period and that I can apply all the lessons I've learned in my own fiscal year to the future - resulting in greater, more productive & even more thought-provoking ways o' living.  And really, if I were being honest here (which is what I strive for most of the time) - despite the fact that there have been some pretty awful things happening to me in the last year or so, it's been one of those life-shifting & destiny altering periods where (when it's over and done with and most of the bitterness has worn off) you can look back and see the lessons you've learned.  At least most of them anyway.

What are these lessons, you ask?  Well, I'm so glad you're *that* interested in my life, Chester!  I've compiled this here list to make it easier for you to understand.  I know most Jess-blog readers do well with lists (well, and with crudely drawn stick figure diagrams, but who has time for that?)

Lessons Learned in My Own Fiscal Year (Part 1)

- People are never what you think they are.  And really, how could they be?  Just as we each have our own opinions on things (foods we like to eat, shows we watch on TV, which New Kid was our favorite, etc.) - we are all unique beings and we all have our own perspectives on how we view other people.  I'm not just talking ex-husbands either.  No two people are identical in life perspective, religious upbringing, moral character, etc. which is definitely something to consider when you're passing judgement along in life.  I'm talking in circles.  My point is this:  it sometimes takes a tragedy to see who you really are as a person - and also who other people really are.  Through these dramatic events of cataclysmic proportions, you evolve into something better - something smarter.  These are gifts really.  Gifts of Wisdom. 

Gifts of Wisdom would be a good band name.  Gifts of Wisdom: My Own Fiscal Year.

I should get on ADD medication.

Back to the lessons...

- Life is way, way way too short to get caught up in drama & anger & hatred & not forgiving others.  There's probably more to this list really - but basically if there's something that is making you feel bad in life (you hate your job, for example.  Or you have an extra toe... anything) - then do something to change it. Stop complaining about it and dragging people down with it and just make a change.  You're no more or less special than Oprah, or Albert Einstein, or Mother Theresa.  Seriously.  You're not!  The difference is - those people got off their asses (no easy feat for Oprah circa 1987!) and did something with their time. They didn't sit on their living room couch eating Funyuns and updating their facebook statuses to yet another variation of "Woe is Me". 

I made this a Part 1 because I knew that I would be distracted with the chaos of my life and I wouldn't be able to dedicate the time and energy to this blog that it (and you - having patiently waited months and months for my words of wisdom) deserve.  So I promise to finish this list at a later time (soon, I promise) and continue to teach you important lessons in life (including my divorce story, which is really not as exciting as you'd think it would be) and I will abruptly end now.  Because some wise person told me that my blogs are too long (is that true?  Please advise)... and mostly because I have to pee, it's 6am and I have a sleeping 4-year-old on my lap, drooling onto the work shirt I never took off and slept in last night.  I never said I led a glamorous life.

I'm going to Ocean City today - to sprinkle the remainder of my mom's ashes into the beach.  She loved the beach, my mom.  Well - she loved Ocean City.  And really, she loved hanging out on the balcony overlooking the boardwalk chain-smoking, cursing and people watching.  But it would make a much more poetic statment (and less likely to result in community fines and riots than a heave-ho of charred DNA off a top floor balcony onto a lane of crowded bypassers) to put my moms remains in the water down there.  So that's what I'm doing.  Today.  Which is why I must go now.  If you feel so inspired - or even if you don't, but you are in a heat induced delusional state - you could leave me a comment below.  No pressure.

Oh, one more thing - I've missed you too.