Last night I stayed up way too late. It was a selfish and immature
indulgence that I am regretting today. I believe that I've had a dream
about the same shop I was in last night. When I was a teenager, we lived
in a small town. To get to this shop, I had to walk quite a ways out
into the country. The door was open if I remember correctly, and there's
something interesting about the floor. I have the impression that there
were reeds or woven mats lying on top of the tile. Inside the shop it's
very bright. Workers were pouring honey, or maybe they were candles, I
saw a woman cap off a jar with a thin sheet of paper that was able to
seal the contents of the jar off. I put some things in my cart, the
store changed as I walked through it.
In my previous dream there were quantities of fresh fruits and
vegetables in baskets. This time I put my hand on an oversized box of
chocolates. I remember putting the box back, checking the price, it was
summer in my dream, so Christmas had been celebrated months away, but
here were chocolates that had been marked down after the holiday. My
purchases came to sixty-five dollars. I was alarmed by this amount, then
recklessly decided to get the chocolates along with my other
selections. I left the shop, found myself in a house that turned out to
be some sort of lodging for the sailing community, and I wanted a warm drink, it was cool
now, but as I walked along the shore, I heard a man yelling, and saw my
youngest daughter climbing over the side of a boat that was leaving.
Screaming her name, I started running towards her. She waved to me
from the boat, I don't remember what happened after that, but she and I
somehow ended up in a room with some other women. They told us about the
house/hotel I had been in earlier. We were offered a selection of
muffins, but I thought I should stick to tea. We were covered in rough
towels or blankets. The air was cool, misty, damp, I wasn't scared, more
uneasy, and I wanted to leave as soon as possible. I think at this
point we opened my box of chocolates. My surroundings changed again,
without warning, and suddenly I was in a large, old-fashioned room with
carpeting. An older man and some women were with me.
I had more tea, we passed the chocolates around, and there was a
discussion about them that I remember contributing to. They weren't as
good as I had hoped they would be although the others seemed to be
enjoying them more than I did. I was no longer with my daughter, when I
woke up, I wasn't sure what had happened to her. The memory of that
shop, the light and brightness of the yellow walls that are steaked with
golden sunbeams, the smells of clean living, sustainable lifestyle
products, the people, they seemed kind. I have memories of the baskets,
and vividly colored fruits next to arrangements of vegetables that were
artistic, inviting, and more real than they are in real life.
Perhaps there was refrigeration, I don't remember seeing any glass
cases though. The people seemed genuinely interested in me, I was
chatting with someone in line, then I had the shameful gigantic box of
chocolates that I picked up, put back, and then tried to justify to
myself. Why was my daughter climbing into a moving boat? Who were the
people that helped her, and me? How did I get from the marina into the
room that seemed to belong to an outdated mansion with strange
inhabitants? Why do I keep having dreams about this store that I know
doesn't really exist? I slept until almost noon today. Yesterday in real
life I went to the store, bought a box of gluten and dairy free
chocolate chip cookies for my boss, did that have anything to do with my
dream?
Friends of mine were talking on Twitter last night. I'm hoping I can
meet a friend when I go to Minnesota for my cousin's graduation. She's a
very kind person, I introduced her to someone I know slightly, and it
was gratifying to see that the introduction was accepted. Another friend
of mine lives down in Florida. She's invited me to come and live with
her, and if she didn't have cats, I would move without thinking twice
about it. I deserve a certain level of affection from people in my life,
from my children, I could probably expect it from my spouse, but he's
less and less a part of my life, more of a tangential being whose
presence I have to tolerate, and make the best of until I can find a way
to escape.
Love is such a comfort to me, and it's just crazy how people I've
never met can know me in ways I don't think people who know me in real
life do. A very close friend of mine called me earlier this week. In the
past she's said that I am one of the most real people she knows. She is
also very real. I follow an account on Twitter that references the idea
that real recognizes real, and I believe that's true. These women I was
talking to on Twitter last night, I know I could go to their homes, and
the invitation to Manila is mine in real life even though I have never
met Dr. G because she recognizes that I am real. We met during a
discussion about death and dying.
I shared the story of how I went to see my neighbor after she fell.
She died a few days later, and I told the group how we had a chance to
express our love for each other, and I didn't go to her funeral because I had already made peace with her soul. I
still think about her often. The group didn't put me down for making my
neighbor clean out her closets the day before she died. It gave us
something to do, and I hope the memories of her giving me the
embroidered dish towels that her family won't pass on will stay with me
until I reach death's door. Another woman who has become a Twitter
friend of mine is into music. Last night she sent me a song, it came out
of nowhere, the song is a favorite of mine, and it seemed so unlike her
that I was puzzled.
To return the favor, I sent a song back to her. This went on for a
while. I have a couple friends that I exchange music with, and someday I
want to travel to Barcelona and Milan to meet these men and women who
have become my song friends. A pharmacist friend of mine introduced me
to some of her friends. I find Twitter just fascinating, how you can
know a fact about someone, but not who they are until you read a tweet
that reveals another facet of their lives. A couple times I've found
myself in the middle of fights between couples, those are unpleasant, I
don't mean to start anything, and I'm not on Twitter for that, but
jealous people will seek to find things that support their ideas even
though they may not have a strong foundation.
Two nights ago I was joking about changing my Twitter bio. I hate
auto DM spam so I made a comment about that. A friend of mine said I
needed to mention something about my tendency to favorite tweets. I
hadn't realized that was something people noticed about me. I tweeted
something about it, and it opened this really neat discussion about
favoriting, why people favorite things, and I'm happy that a trademark
habit of mine is making people feel better, and has influenced others to
start starring more tweets. I follow a couple people with the same
name, and seeing the different personalities interact with each other,
it was just fun to see the back and forth, and hear what others had to
say.
My friend the sports writer coined the term 'The Jessica Trifecta'. I
took a screen shot of that tweet. The Jessica Trifecta is when a tweet
gets a favorite, a retweet, and a reply. The Twitter platform is so
simple. Reply, favorite, retweet, those are the three things you can do,
but it's so much richer and deeper than that. The way people can have
conversations, tiny fragments of language encapsulated into a box whose
outlines are barely visible. It's amazing to me how much you can pack
into 140 characters. Just for fun I flipped back to my Twitter tab.
Someone posted a tweet that said 'Trade him'. That's not very long, but
it's clear, I know exactly what this person means, who he's talking
about, and how he feels about the situation.
Yesterday I saw a guy telling people that he wanted to start
following new people and ideas. I sent a tweet to him that didn't get a
reply, but I hope that my question to him made him think a little. When I
try explaining Twitter to others, a lot of the time I'm unable to
explain how friendships develop because it really can be a situation
where you retweet something someone tweeted, you follow them, they
follow you, you introduce them to a few people that you know, and by the
end of the week you're being broadcast as a part of a group of women
who are changing the world. Twitter is a way to share things, but it's
also a place I go where I feel very good about myself for the most part.
Twitter acknowledges my successes, responds to comments that I am
feeling low, and the outpouring of love and acceptance is unlike
anything I've ever experienced before. A friend who used to run a parody
account now follows me under a different name. I like it when people
sign off for the night or greet tweeps in the morning. I sent him well
wishes, and ended my tweet with #LoveYou. He asked if I used that
hashtag frequently, and I wasn't sure how to answer that because I have
no way of measuring how many times I've typed that in the past. What's
so gratifying to me is the number of men and women I've met who respect
me on Twitter. I sent out a tweet telling people that I favorited their
tweets because I wanted people to know that I had read their tweet, or I
wanted to screw them.
That generated a few favorites, and some more comments. A woman sent
me a tweet saying that she hoped I wanted to know her more intimately.
She was joking, but I sent back a serious tweet because she needs more
love in her life. I ride the edge of propriety at times, and I've picked
up a few people who don't get that I'm a playful person, but I've
gotten hundreds more who tell me that they love me, and even if it's a
few meaningless keystrokes that they don't really mean, I think people
do love me. There are probably guys out there whose thoughts I would
rather not be associated with, it's just comforting to know that there
are others whose arms are open without expectations of me giving them
anything more than I have to give.
So far I'm half way through my journaling course, it's been such an
incredible journey, I don't even know how to begin to explain the
lighthearted hopefulness that's been seeping into my life. The
friendships I've made, the new people I've met, the ideas that have come
to me, the way I've been able to embrace things I hadn't before, the
clarity I've been gifted with, the way it's changed my writing, how it's
developed my characters. It's funny to me that on Twitter, I don't find
a lot of the writing crowd very interesting where on here, I do. So I
wonder, what makes people interesting, and if I think that everyone is
interesting, what is it about the writing tweets that leaves me cold?
There are exceptions to the rules, some authors are extremely fun to
follow and interact with, I'm thinking of several in particular so if
you're on Twitter, and you're interested in following any of these men
or women or groups, let me know, and I'll introduce you to anyone you'd
like to meet. I've tried to get people to sign up with E2, so far the
one person who created an account saw people in the catbox discussing
the new user, that was a disheartening moment for me, but I'm glad that
my friend gets that there are assholes everywhere. During our last
conference call, E2 came up, our instructor posted a link to a daylog of
mine on Facebook, I don't see E2 as a product that's easy to sell even
though I believe in it mainly because E2 lacks confidence in itself.
I follow a lot of experts on Twitter, I recognize the tone when
people who are experts lay information down. Self esteem, confidence in
oneself, the ability to categorize your strengths, to avoid putting
yourself down, or to believe that what others say of you has any power
over you. This year has been liberating to me. I've doubted my self
worth in the past. I'm no longer apologizing for who I am. I've grown
past the idea that I need to respond to hurtful comments or talk to
people who I don't like. A fundamental shift needs to occur before
people can believe in themselves and others. On Twitter, I can be that
light for many even though there is darkness in my own life.
I'm very cold today. Freezing despite my sweater, my blanket, my
scarf that no one likes but has become..., my scarf is a real person to
me. A friend I can hold, cry with, snuggle into, lose myself in, I
clutch it like a security blanket, sleep with it, share secret fears,
use it to cover myself, wash it carefully, mindful of the delicacy that
has surprising strength. I had scarves in the past, a woman I worked
with stole a favorite of mine, it's her loss though as I've moved on
from cheap scarves to ones that can be passed down to future
generations. I was so silly in the past. So enamored of the shiny cheap
ready made money grabbers. I've moved past that towards items that can
provide lasting value.
Now that I'm over the heavy stuff, I can share a new idea that
yannmatin proposed. She said that I can print out my daylogs, and put
them together into a journal type binding. I don't know why I don't
think of things like this myself, it seems so obvious. I'm really
excited about this new project, and I'm going to get a notebook that I
can draw in because I've always wanted to be more artistic, and a fear
of inadequacy has held me back earlier. My children are artistic and
creative, I think I can learn and be taught, and if it isn't very good,
it doesn't matter because I had fun doing it. I'm super stoked about
this, and will let people know how I'm progressing. I pray that you will
all have people in your life to love, support, encourage, and believe
in you.
Take care,
jess