i'll never be picture perfect beyonce

"baggage."

i don't understand the stigma surrounding it. like...people are supposed to live, right? we're supposed to be engaged and experiment with all of the fruit that life gives us, dangles in front of us, and behind us, and above us, and below us. and some of this fruit is, mostly sometimes poisonous. and, yet, after ingesting some tainted, cyanide-laced, arsenic-dipped fruit, we're supposed to remain as pure as we were when we came into this world?

for seriously? no.

if you've had to endure betrayal by friends, you might actually start to be kind of skeptical about allowing people to infiltrate your bubble.

if someone went to bed madly in love with you on tuesday night, then woke up wednesday and decided they were over it, um...yeah, i think it's perfectly legit to be a little bit scared of romance and its implications.

if you went sky-diving, and the parachute didn't open, and the back-up one didn't either, and you plunged into the earth and broke every single bone and tore every ligament in your body, maybe you're going to be really committed to ensuring your feet are always on the ground.

basically, i guess i don't understand why it's not okay to be a little bit traumatized. i understand that being a basketcase isn't cute, and no one wants to be around that, but experiences have consequences. some are positive, and some aren't, and both deserve to be respected.

xoxo,
a neurotic's attempt to justify her neuroses

i'm trying to remember that we are in a recession.

that there are millions and millions of other individuals who are also unemployed.

that i am not unemployed because this is natural selection's way of trying to get me to peace out via a deadly combination of depression, boredom, and mild starvation (ie, not being able to buy mcdonald's fries on the daily) that will eventually lead to my death.

that in fact, i merely happened to graduate at a MOST inopportune time with a degree that is not engineering or nursing related, and henceforth, i am competing for a scare number of jobs with a not-so-scarce number of people.

but it's hard. being unemployed is hard. being a "professional recessionista" is miserable. i hate not being "productive." i hate not being able to complain about wack coworkers. i hate that i can't have a mildly inappropriate work-crush. i hate that i am perpetually broke or almost-broke. it's draining. especially when almost everyone else that you know is doing something. they have obligations. they have lives

i keep waking up at fairly ungodly hours for no. freaking. reason. like my body hasn't gotten the memo that i am jobless; therefore, i can sleep in. but no. instead, i wake up early. writhe around in bed with my laptop until for a couple of hours. shower. get dressed. go to borders for a few hours. maybe splurge on tea. feel read. use their wifi. feel extra distraught when i have to buy food/toiletries/LIFE supplies. go home. writhe around in bed more. maybe go downstairs and watch some tv. play on internet until bed.

this lifestyle? sucks. i can't help but think back to this time last year. senior year of college. only four classes, which allowed me to hustle for more hours at my not-so-bad on-job. actively engaged in a feminist organization. fun meals with fabulous friends. GOING OUT. oh my god, i miss going out so much. i miss drinking and aggressively dancing and making hos jealous and all that good stuff. i miss my friends. :/ my unemployed status coupled with the fact that i am a few years younger than the people i do socialize with = inferior status. there's always an undercurrent of me feeling less-than in every interaction i have, and that, to be oh-so-eloquent, just sucks.

i've been feeling the urge to come out of blogging hibernation for awhile. i have several post drafts chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool, etc. i have thoughts and sometimes i want to share them in more than 140 characters.

anyway.

today is blog for choice day, which coincides with the anniversary of roe v. wade. the theme this year is "trust women", a phrase that dr. george tiller (the abortion provider who was murdered last year outside of church) used often to defend the act of abortion. what does "trust women" mean to me, personally?


it is that allowing women to be, without being inundated with messages telling us how to dress, who to emulate, what to do with our lives.

it is listening to women.

it is acknowledging that despite institutionalized patriarchy, women regularly cultivate brilliance, through words, through actions, through existing.

it is allowing a woman to construct and control her own moral compass.

it is recognizing the innate strength that women must create in order to survive in this world.

it is realizing that a woman should be the final arbiter of what does or does not happen to/with her body.

it is about the comprehensive perception of women as equal to, not less than.


trust women. respect our choices.

so, pretty much, 2009 sucked for me. maybe it's because i had such high expectations. you know, change i can believe in, graduating from college, commencing life as a non-academic adult, etc. i thought this would be the year i could forget the rest of my life had ever even happened. you know, a year of clarity, renewal, evolution, and pure, unadulterated awesomeness, and i would be able to leave behind hurt, insecurity, and other assorted weaknesses. yeah...no. if anything, everything i wanted to let go ended up being magnified by trazillions. it was essentially a year of emotional/psychological terrorism perpetrated by others, tragic choices of my own making, with some circumstantial shenanigans out of my control thrown in for good measure.

however, i did learn some ish.

*moving to a city where a lot of people have the same ambitions as you in the middle of a recession is perhaps not the smartest idea.

*making a 19 year old endure 30 seconds of awkwardness is far more offensive than beating one's girlfriend. (I'M SORRY, KANYE. I OVERREACTED. I LOVE YOU AND 808s AND HEARTBREAK IS STILL AMAZING. chris brown, you still suck. so do your new songs. and learn how to speak, you undereducated, inarticulate wanker.)

*poor people don't deserve access to quality health care.

*because of barack obama's election, racism is officially eradicated.

*it is nearly impossible to give a tour of the us capitol without getting lost.

*"dirty diana" is the most epic michael jackson song of all time. OF ALL TIME.

*the phrase "we're not having sex tonight" is apparently not as clear as one might think.

*it is possible to rock heels in snow/ice and not take a tumble.

*every time i'm home for an extended period of time, i discover a new sex-oriented blog and feel compelled to read every single entry. maybe it's because for me, phoenix is a champagne room...if you don't get that reference, we will never be legitimate friends. :/

*knocking up an infamous governor's teenage daughter somehow entitles you to fame. seriously, why do i know who levi johnston is? and why was there demand to see his penis? america, can we get some standards? he isn't even cute. well, he's cute in that taylor lautner way...which is to say, paper bag status.

*you can have a 4-year intensely public meltdown, but then repair your image/career enough to go on a worldwide sold-out arena tour (because it's britney, bitch).

*any vaguely attractive woman has a shot to hit it with tiger woods. emphasis on the "vaguely", by the way.

*you have to be your own best friend to survive. others will, intentionally or not, destroy any part of yourself that you choose to put out there for their consumption. so you have to be able to comfort yourself, empower yourself, have fun with yourself, and make yourself feel special. if you leave that up to other people..no, just don't. thank you, 2009, for constantly reinforcing this.

*3008 > 2000 and late.

yo, next decade, i'ma let you finish, but just to let you know, the '00s was pretty awesome at the whole wrecking spirits thing, so you shouldn't even try to top it. the game needs changing, so be the cashier. let this recession peace out, let this world stop resisting progress, let people be good to themselves, and good to each other. and if you could possibly obliterate the existence of uggs, twilight, and glenn beck, that would be great.

xoxo.

i'm sensitive. when i'm hurt, i'm deeply hurt. i've gotten increasingly better at hiding it, glossing over it with humor and perkiness and engrossing myself in everyone else's lives to distract myself. sometimes i slip and crack, and emo jasmine is on display, and then people don't know how to talk to me, which i understand, but it still upsets me. but i shut it down, and turn on the charm again. because being sad is not cool. it's not cute. it's for emo losers. and i mean, "jasmine fierce" is supposed to present herself as FIERCE. she wears ridiculous hair accessories and heels even when it's snowing and goes camping in dresses and looks down on unstylish weirdos and worships beyonce and is kind of funny and doesn't let things like emotions slow her roll. it's so hard maintaining that, because when i feel pain, i feel it so profoundly and for prolonged periods of time. it takes forever for me to let anything go and move on. the stupidest, most minute events can trigger me into a spiral of bummed-outness.

for example, today, i saw that the first virginia boy to mindscrew me added this REALLY HOT girl as a friend on facebook. gorgeous hair, nice makeup, banging body (which she was showing off in a cami and underwear). of course, i compared myself to her and came up short, for i am merely "a'ight", and that's on a good day, and that was a tad/a lot misery-inducing. so what did i do? i made a facebook status about how if i had a hot body, i'd be nudie all the time, to the detriment of any kind of personality. even though what i really wanted to do was curl up into the fetal position and bawl my eyes out, for what could have been between me and va boy, what isn't, and what i will never be (a hot, sexy, seductive woman). all of that from a simple newsfeed update.

it's probably for the best that i have some semblance of a sense of humor. because i feel like with every second i exist, i am this close to stuffing my coat with rocks and drowning myself in a river.

emotions are difficult. and all the hot girls in the world? i love you, but you hurt my feelings with your hotness.

this is part two (part one) of what will eventually lead to a legit revelation...one that millions of women have made before me, and millions will make af"ter me, but you know, i like to be self-indulgent sometimes.


so after that fateful night, i fell into a downward spiral. i was miserable, lonely, distracted, distraught, upset, and even a little bit heartbroken. when i engage intimately with someone, i feel like i'm giving up a little bit of myself. i feel vulnerable. so to give a little bit of myself to this guy, and to have him reject it for not being enough, was extremely painful. at the time, i considered this to be such a cowardly way to approach things. i thought it meant that i was childish and immature. i thought i was dumb for feeling that way. so i tried to ignore it. three weeks after i was sexually violated, i encountered this guy i was acquainted with at a bar. he was cute and funny, and we started making out. blah blah, i went home with him. we were both solidly intoxicated, but we didn't have sex, and the afternoon after was beyond awkward, and unfortunately, i'm pretty unskilled in the art of gracefully extricating one's self from undesirable social situations. so, pretty much, i waited for him to be like, "peace out."

i felt disgusting, worthless, nasty, etc. this rendezvous stung especially hard, because we had a conversation once wherein he said he doesn't do one night stands because he's too controlled for it, and the one time he did have one, he felt gross. so you know it feels really awesome when someone breaks that rule for you. like, great, i'm good enough for you to paw on the metro, but not good enough to watch a movie with the day after. fabulous. two days later, i sent him an innocous text that was like, "LET'S MAKE THIS LESS AWKWARD AND TRY TO RECOVER SOME VESTIGE OF OUR ACQUAINTANCESHIP." and he was pretty much, "OKAY...HAHAHA, JUST KIDDING. YOU'RE A COOTIE-RIDDEN WHORESLUT." and then i once again plunged into despair. i was just confused. both of those boys constantly told me repeatedly that i'm cool/awesome/funny/amazing/beautiful blah blah, lies. and i'm more naive than i like to think i am. sometimes i forget that some people don't put as much stock in their words as i do. so i allowed myself to be lulled into a sense of false complacency, and then got screwed over.

and i thought it was totally my fault. when in reality, it really wasn't. when someone is an asshole, that is completely on their own volition. just because those dudes didn't value me as a person doesn't mean that i'm not valuable as a person. i am. i deserve to be respected and loved. i am human, and i may not be perfect in any sphere, but i don't hurt others, and in return, i deserve that same courtesy. and it's okay that if i get with someone, i WANT THEM TO HAVE A MODICUM OF LIKE FOR ME. it doesn't have to lead into the most epic relationship of all time, but i need to not be treated like trash either. and yes, this desire is enhanced around people who have stuck their tongues down my throat. and i think that is completely reasonable and acceptable.

right. yeah.

catharsis rant over.

this is part one of what will eventually lead to a legit revelation...one that millions of women have made before me, and millions will make after me, but you know, i like to be self-indulgent sometimes.

my life is still beyond stagnant at this moment. the world keeps spinning, but i remain in the exact same place. so i spend a lot of time living in the past. particularly one night. august 17, 2009. what had started as an innocuous acquaintanceship quickly escalated to him being the first person i contacted when i woke up and the last person i talked to before resting my head. it was splendid. then he offered to cook me dinner one night, and of course, i accepted. it was lovely, he was lovely, i was swooning, he was cute, and he thought i was cute, it was so totally gooey and lovely, etc.

we started watching lindsay lohan's straight-to-tv offering, "labor pains." the chemistry was tangible and distracting, so we indulged. i specifically laid out one very clear boundary ("we are not having sex"). he agreed...but then tried to cross it. i understood why it was difficult, so i did everything i could to make sure he was having as much fun as possible while still keeping that boundary in place. and he couldn't respect it. he explicitly violated it, and then proceeded to be frigid after i disengaged. it was exceptionally late by this point, and i was confused, anxious, but also exhausted, so we fell asleep cuddling. except i couldn't stop shaking. and that made him nervous/agitated. like it was all my fault that any comfort i had around him was completely shattered and my body was responding accordingly. i was scared. when we woke up a few hours later, he tried to get frisky again, and i completely shut him down. we went our separate ways and a few hours lated, he texted me about how freaked out he was, and how he was unsure if he was still interested. and i completely took the blame for the situation on myself. i apologized to him for being inconsiderate. but he was very clearly conflicted about wanting to even talk to me ever again.

and IT STUNG. oh, how it stung. the very first person i told this tale to received a very sanitized version of the story that completely absolved the boy of any responsibility. and all she offered was hollow advice that actually ended up making me feel worse. on the metro ride home, i listened to jordin sparks all the way. um, yes, that's how in pathetic a state i was.

the second person i told received a more complete version of the situation, but still one that didn't properly put on blast what a douchemonster he was. and she was a lot more supportive of me as an individual and me trying to reconcile with him. sigh. so i sent him a couple of innocuous texts that same day, to no response. which obviously should have provoked me to put down a cease and desist order on that entire situation. but of course i didn't. two days later, i sent him one final text with the message of, "YOU SHOULD LIKE ME BECAUSE YOU'RE AWESOME AND YOU THOUGHT I WAS AWESOME BEFORE I DECIDED NOT TO GIVE YOU NOOKIE." and of course, he didn't answer that one. so i began to heal...though healing is supremely difficult when he's a facebook friend, and you're a stalker, and you're especially fond of stalking dudes who don't like you. and i will admit, to this day, i continue to look at his profile, his photos, and compare myself to the girls he is friends with.

i know. i am so weak. but at least i recognize that he sucks. and really, the reason i continue to be mildly fixated on him is because i always need a dude to creep obnoxiously on.

that was some serious word vomit. but it's the first time i've ever described such a crucial night in my life in excruciating detail.

part 2 to come soon.