STOMACH FLUUU

sick jen is a grumper

ugh. i dont have the tolerance level to write much right now. my stomach just never stops hurting does it? I can't wait to feel normal again.

at least i have some gatorade. and some gingerale. and my sanity (?).

Happy Easter!

Although I'm not really Christian, it's sort of a springy type holiday. Which is nice.

I got so many peeps this year, it's freakin' ridiculous.

So,

I believe I'll be making peep sushi.

Meow.

.....ehehhehhheheehehe

Love....

....is made of Hello Kitty couture.

Intense Theatrical Experiences

ITE.

I pretty much rediscovered myself today. Such an intense experience in my voice and movement class. We were working on emotion and energy sharing with the class while walking on a grid.

The Rules:

1) No eye contact

2) No hugging

3) No talking

4) Choose someone to love and someone else to hate

5) Do what feels right

....

The amount of emotion coursing through my veins was incredible. I was so wrapped up in the individual stories that developed during the exercise. Music was playing and everyone was interacting differently through touch. Now, I have an insane personal bubble. I a

m not at all comfortable with that sort of thing. I don't trust people. This is commonly known fact. But all bounds were broken. I became jealous when those I loved did not return my affection. I tried to eliminate those I hated from sight. I felt those around me. I could sense people behind me.

In the first round, I found myself very lovey-dovey and warm. I wanted people to come near me and I wanted to go near people. Sure, I got jealous, but at the same token I was very open to others. I remember at one point someone pulling me close from behind and holding me. It was uncomfortable, yet perfect. I felt both pain and joy, a sense of unrequited love. After the class was over, he approached me and said that he had felt "as if we had been in a relationship before, and it had not worked out. I had approached you to apologize because we were not meant to be."

Freaky, right?

The second round was much more emotionally intense for me. I felt rejected. Alone. Nobody would connect with me, especially the one I 'loved.' I would occasionally walk past them and intertwine my fingers in theirs, hoping they would respond. The never did. So I did what seemed most logical when I wanted to cry: I stood in the corner. Waited for someone to come and help me, see if anyone would respond at all.

Lo and behold, someone came up behind me. Laced their fingers in mine. pulled me close. Held me tight. I literally leaned against them, put my weight on them. I could feel my heart racing and my stomach fluttering. Breathing in my ear, holding my weight, wrapping their arms around my waist.

Suddenly, I felt afraid. I felt nervous of judgement. Fearful of hurt or pain. I didn't trust the situation. So what did I do? I pulled away. I let go of their hand last. I couldn't stand to stay. But at the same token, it was such a beautiful moment and it hurt to walk away.

Sadly enough, I think that that may have been the most intimate moment of my life. I've seen a lot. Experienced a lot. I've hardened. Become fearful, untrusting. I almost have the ability to turn off my emotion and become cold. Icy. It is these innate drives that I have, these 'isms' as Grant calls them, that I do not recognize that I need awareness of in order to accurately portray a (any) character.

I want to feel that. I want that rush, that thrill, that emotional security. And I don't want to be afraid. I want it to be legitimate, not a game that means nothing to anyone. Because those moments that I had with those people (especially the first) meant nothing to them. And for me, probably because of my experiences, it took a toll upon my heart. I need to learn to let go, to separate from reality. The moment really caused me to feel a sense of wonder and closeness. Almost like a fucking therapy session. Learning so much about myself in so little time.

So why am I writing a blog?

Maybe because I'm bored shitless, maybe because I have an opinion that I need to get off my goddamn chest, or maybe because I want to be able to look back upon my thoughts and I type a lot faster than I write. Perhaps this is my first real artistic expression open to the public. Well, other than my drawings and inks and such that I posted up a while back. Really gotta get back on that or I'm gonna lose my skill.

I guess you can call me insane. Or perhaps just a nut. Unique? Quirky? Is it endearing? Maybe to some. If I am fortunate. Do I really care about what they think? Not much anymore. Did I use to? It was my life. I've reached the point where I figure I'll trip along the road and figure shit out. I've learned to be fantastically independent, to the point that it may be a fault. I'd rather be alone than unhappy.

So what am I up to this evening (since that seems to be what a blog is about, writing about my life daily/weekly/biweekly/whenever)? Just thinking a lot. Can't wait to move.

I'll end with a quote that I feel slightly pertains.

"It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."

Love,