I’ve Got a Leak

How many times can a girl cry in one week?

Ready for a post that starts out like this? Just keep reading...

I don’t have an answer. It’s only Tuesday, and the number is higher than I’d ever want it to be. I’m speaking from experience here. If I can make it one day without waterworks this week, it will be my Easter miracle.

Only the release of the Hunger Games can match my excitement for this movies' rerelease.

What’s going on, you might be asking yourself. I’ve been asking my inner self this very question on and off again over the past few weeks. What’s going on with me? It could very easily be PMS rearing its ugly, hormonal head on a worse scale than usual. It could be the fact that Titanic in 3D is being released tomorrow and my sub-conscious has been awaiting this day for almost a year now, and my estrogen levels just can’t handle it anymore. (But, seriously, I’m so pumped for its release. I’m not excited for the 3D aspect…how in the heck do you turn a movie about the ‘unsinkable’ luxury hotel-on-water modernized-hull ship into an epic through 3D movie? I guess I’ll find out. Truth be told, I’m just excited to see it on the big screen again. I haven’t had a movie experience quite like Titanic ever since. Not even with Avatar…and that was a 3D epic adventure.)

They make estrogen pills. Do they make its twin, the testosterone pill? There are too many tears falling down this face as of late. Not only do I not enjoy crying in public, but I hate how tired it makes me feel afterwards. I read an article a long time ago about how you’re supposed to actually feel happier after crying. Something to do with the sudden release of hormones (which may or not be considered ‘toxic’. The build-up of hormones prior to crying, that is) and once everything is all cried out, you feel better because those ‘bad’ hormones have been released, and you feel an endorphin rush. Something along those lines.

I'm still waiting for that gleeful post-cry moment.

Here’s my question: Where’s my flood of happiness and lightness? I’ve been crying my eyes out, and I feel worse than before I started shedding the water from my eyeballs, making myself look like a hot mess. I have such a headache, the spots behind my eyeballs ache, and my patience is walking a tight rope. I absolutely love being at a job that requires me to be ever the gracious host at all times when I’m feeling like this.

Perhaps the flood gates have been opened in preparation for what is sure to be a flood when watching this scene happen once more on the big screen?

It doesn’t help my mood, either, that one of my coworkers comes up to me and starts comparing me to another girl who works here. Apparently, I’m not as cheery as her. How many times do I have to spell it out? I’ve already told you I’m not having a good day. Please make it worse by comparing my bad-day mood with someone else’s cheery, I’m-having-a-great-day mood. I wanted to tell him to go screw himself in a non-ladylike manner, but I bit my tongue. I don’t need him feeling miserable about himself either, despite the adage that misery loves company.

Can I just crawl into bed and end this day?

So, what’s a girl to do when she feels on the edge of sanity? She hurriedly walks down a busy hallway, fighting back the gobs of tears threatening to break through the floodgates at any moment, and takes unnaturally deep breaths in the attempt to calm said furried floodstorm quickly approaching. She whips out her phone and calls the one person who always knows how to make it better: her mother. The instant she hears her mother’s words of “What’s wrong?”, the flood gates fail. The girl now stands in the nearest corner she could make it to, and lets everything out. Everything…gasps of air, words that are probably difficult to understand, the torrential rainfall of misery in water form, her longing to go home for the weekend’s upcoming holiday and be with her family, and much more misery.

The more I tell myself not to cry, the harder it gets to keep the tears at bay.

One of the things I hate doing most? Crying in public. Everyone you don’t know who see’s you instantly becomes awkward, those who see you and do know you feel obligated to comfort you by asking what’s going on, and then I have this personal problem with my eyes turning a very unattractive red color and puffing up like a puffer fish so I just look…puffy. Then, you have the issue of a runny nose, and of course, you never have tissues when you have breakdown like that, so you’re trying to take care of that in some fashion that doesn’t leave your hands or clothes in a disgusting manner. Avoid everyone’s gaze when you muster enough energy to push yourself out of the corner you took refuge in, and continue on your way. That special post-cry walk of misery is a time I hope no one I know runs into me. I know what I look like, and probably am in desperate need to blow my nose another six times, and if I run into someone I know, I’m in for 20 questions that I do not want to answer at that exact moment.

Can we be anymore nosy? Hmmmm?

Step number two after talking with my wonderful mother? Throw my music as loud as I can to drown out the voices speaking a million miles an hour in my mind, and pull into a McDonald’s parking lot. My comfort food? McDonald’s fries, even though it’s going straight to my thighs the instant a grain of salt hits my tongue. I did well holding myself back from totalling bottoming out. I ordered a small fries (not a large! Patting myself on the back for that one) and a Caesar salad.

Chocolate therapy...the invention of a genius.

Better than a Big Mac or a double cheeseburger, okay?

I do know I have a king-size Hershey’s bar waiting in my cupboard, along with a pack of Oreos and freshly baked cookies on my counter. I can’t promise my resolve will hold out when I walk through my door this evening.

“I hope that one or two immortal lyrics will come out of all this tumbling around.”

You’re tumbling around is a little different from mine, Louise Bogan. She had an affair with fellow poet Theodore Roethke.

I wonder if she ever penned a lyric or two about her trysts.

I think that’s every lovers’ dream. To be remembered forever passionately in some way, when the relationship falls to pieces for whatever reason. But to be that girl he remembers through every relationship, through every kiss, through every single moment he spends away from you and not with you whether he’s truly moved on from you or keeps trying to convince himself of it…a girl will be lying to you if she said there wasn’t one romantic tryst in her past that she wished hadn’t ended. That she still thinks about at one point or another. But we’re all allowed to have our secrets, and whether we want to share them or not.

Steamy and passionate...what every romantic connection should be.

As old Rose says in Titanic of Jack Dawson, “And I’ve never spoken of him until now… Not to anyone… Not even your grandfather… A woman’s heart is a deep ocean of secrets. But now you know there was a man named Jack Dawson and that he saved me… in every way that a person can be saved. I don’t even have a picture of him. He exists now… only in my memory.“

Her words are deep...deep like the ocean.

I try to remind myself that crying is not a form of weakness. It’s a sign that you’ve been strong and holding things inside for too long.

If anything, I hope my tumbles prove useful when I put words to the page with my next novel idea. Best writing advice I’ve ever received is to write about what you know. Well, I know about misery at the moment, that’s for sure. There’s light at the end of the tunnel, no doubt. I’m sure I’ll come out all sunshine and smiles when this phase passes. But, for the moment, I’m tumbling.

Dudes dig scars, right?

Here’s to a brighter tomorrow. Cheers!

Raise a glass of anything. I prefer bubbly.

Rumor Has It

Oh, how I love spending 12 hours straight on-campus! It’s like I have a job or something!

At some point, I'm sure my campus looks like this.

Yeah…a job that doesn’t pay. At all. All work and no pay makes Jill a dull girl. Don’t the Academies know this by now? It really should be the other way around…university systems paying the students to learn. You know how much enrollment would go up, and how our levels of intelligence would rise? We would finally have an incentive to learn and retain all this information!

I really should run for president. Or Chancellor.

I wouldn't fall to the Dark Side, that's for sure.

Some position of power would really suit me well. Have I mentioned this before? If I had to hold a political office, it would be the position and title of first lady. Look at how much influence she can have over a nation. Take Michelle Obama for instance. Incredibly influential with the Fuel Up to Play 60 initiative. She’s been a brick the idea of professional women and how they dress to impress for the office. She’s shown a woman can be real and get her hands dirty in the garden (literally.) She’s proved two people can lead incredibly hectic lives, but still make time for the love of her life and her family.

The epitome of grace, style, and political influence.

She can be stylish, intelligent, and respected because she is a woman. The position of first lady isn’t just about planning dinner parties, the interior decorating of the White House, or on how to greet guests properly when they visit from foreign nations. She’s an icon, and only the smart ones know how to capitalize on it.

“Say anything about me, dahling, as long as it isn’t boring.”

True words for those of us who crave the spotlight. Am I right, Tallulah Bankhead, an over-the-top temptress herself?

As long as they're talking, she will never be forgotten.

To be perfectly honest, my stomach turns into a mess of knots when someone turns to me and says casually, “Oh, we were talking about you the other day” or “Someone mentioned you and said some pretty interesting things.”

Um, okay? Do share and tell.

I don’t mind it when the things mentioned are good things. But if someone is just downright trash talking me, just let it go. I don’t want to hear about it, and indirectly, have my opinion changed about the offending speaker. The only time you should inform me of such bullshit is if you are a near and dear friend to me. Then, it’s your job to tell them to shut the hell up, and if they won’t, punch them in the face. That’s what real friends do.

When a friend is threatened, especially a good friend, this is how you should react if you were in the body of a dog. Except, as a human, in our cases.

I ran into an instance once  where someone I thought was a decent friend, not a true blue, but someone I could talk to about my daily annoyances and receive some sympathy. That probably was true…until he/she wasn’t cast in my show. Then the rumors about me really started to fly. I knew who my real friends were because they approached me directly about them. Funny how those things work out.

It was really fun, too, when he/she knew I was aware of their spreading lies. Those were some awesome confrontations when we were in the room alone together.

Do you really think no one is going to find out about who started the rumor?

That’s the way to do things…go straight to the source. Better than believing some half-true crock of lies and made-up facts.

Other than that, I don’t have much to say about my adventures on this day. In case you haven’t noticed, we are not fully into the month of April, and last night was our first official thunderstorm of the year. I love falling asleep to thunder. It’s super soothing to me.

A stirring of awesome

Yet again, I’m under the impression that I have some form of self-induced anxiety. My body and mind are tired, but yet, when I lay down, my eyes do not shut. Instead, my mind screams to go pick up a book, a magazine, or write down that idea you had before shutting your peepers because it will be gone in the morning. Why not pop in that movie you’ve watched a million times? That might help you fall asleep!

Enter at your own will, Mr. Sandman. I could use a hand.

HA! Not in the least. It takes me popping two Benadryl to get my eyes to shut down. In fact, I should probably pop my nightly does now so I can be asleep before 1:00 am. Or I could stay up, finish ‘Get Smart’, and eat a cookie or three from the batch I baked earlier this evening. Still fresh and gooey, just the way I like it.

The gooier, the better! With a glass of ice-cold milk.

Like I stated earlier, I’m simply beat tonight. It didn’t help that my cup of coffee I made to get me through the day ended up being totally crap-tastic. Meaning, it was not so good. I usually make a great cup of coffee, but something was off this time around and I’m paying for the lack of caffeine.

Good night, fellow Jedi. I’ll have more exciting news next time around. I promise.

Escape in your mind to that place far, far way.