The Prodigal Son

So, I don't know if I've established this, but I identify myself as a Non-Denominational Christian. If you'd like to know what I mean by that, feel free to ask, but I have absolutely no intention of discussing it publicly on my blog. Moving right along, last night while I was at church, the sermon was centered around Luke 15:1-2, 11-32. If you are unfamiliar with the Bible, that is the story of Jesus telling the story of the "Prodigal Son".

The story is that of a man's son who takes everything his father has to give him (money, a good name, etc) and spites him. The son leaves to go abroad and squanders everything (presumably on prostitutes, booze and gambling) until he is left in poverty. Long story short, he decides to go home (meanwhile, he is starving and presumably pretty gross-looking) to serve as a slave in his father's home because he believes he is not worthy to be his father's son. When he returns home, his father sees him in the distance and runs to embrace him. When the son starts to apologize, his father has a robe and sandals brought to him and declares that there will be a feast in honor of his son's home-coming.

Meanwhile, the son's older brother comes up from the field that he works for his father and questions a servant about the celebration going on. The servant tells the older brother that his brother has come home so his father wanted to throw a celebration in his honor, which upsets the older brother. The older brother lashes out at his father and lays his resentment at his father's feet, stating that his father never celebrated anything for him so why should he celebrate his unworthy brother? the father simply states, "My son...you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found," (Luke 15:31-32).

Well, that's the end of the story basically, and was purposefully left up for interpretation. I'm not going to get into the reasons why and all of that, mainly because I do not want to offend anyone (and lets face it, very few things offend people like conflicting religious beliefs). But after listening to the sermon, it made me think of what I would have happen at the end of the story. I had this insanely vivid image of the father asking the older brother to come into the house to join the celebration (which I believe he actually does in the story, I can't remember right now...maybe). When the older brother is about to refuse, he catches a glimpse of his younger brother and sees his debilitated state. The son would be skin-and-bones, dirty, wearing tattered rags beneath the robe his father had given him, has deep circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks...his hair would be grimy and straggling in his eyes, his beard would be long and unkempt. The older brother would see this and suddenly realize how he had romanticized the son's life of sin. He would see how the son had suffered and be filled with compassion rather than jealousy. And then I had the mental picture of the older brother coming into the celebration--after publicly disrespecting his father--and embracing the son to the point where they are both so over-come with emotion that fall to their knees, the older brother wrapping his arms around the son's shoulders. A circle has formed around the pair, while the festivities have become a blur, though the bright colors and hint of a celebration could be seen like a soft halo of light around them.

It's upsetting. I have this vivid picture in my mind and I have no means to express it. Yes, I've obviously written it, but I have this picture of it in my mind as a water color piece. What upsets me is that I lack the skill to put what exactly is in my mind to any canvas. I suppose I'll try and get frustrated time after time until I eventually get it right. More than anything, I think posting this blog will keep the image in my mind forever. But if I can't convey the image artistically, I wanted to express it with words. It is such a powerful image to have and something that could change someone's life if they see it the way I have. It is only a shame I can't do it justice.

Dream Log 2

So, I'm not quite certain what it is about alcohol that will make you sleep like the dead, but I certainly had one of those evenings where after one drink (went to T.G.I Fridays with some friends last night and partook in a "Cosmo-Rita" ftw) and a large meal with good friends, I was utterly exhausted. As such, when I got home, I knocked out as if I had been shot with a tranq dart.

Honestly, after waking up this morning to my blaring alarm clock and my whiny baby (Rosalie this time) and rushing to get ready so that I could get to class, I can't really remember much of the dream. As it is, it's relatively unfortunate because I do remember that my dream was awesome.

The first part that I remember is that I was standing in a field of what appeared to be wheat. Do you remember the movie Gladiator starring Russell Crowe, when he's dying and he's walking through the rolling, Tuscan hills of golden wheat? Yeah, it was like that. The same high-contrast coloring and everything (obviously, my dreams get pretty detailed). So, I'm walking through this field and the wheat is blowing in the wind and whipping at my stomach. I'm wearing this flowy dress that does not seem to have any distinctive color and for some reason my hair is really long and curly (in reality, my hair barely touches my shoulders and it's Asian-straight). I remember feeling the tips of the wheat whipping me...it kind of felt like it had sawed edges and it kind of hurt a little bit through the fabric of my clothes. I really don't know why I was walking through it, but I just was. It was relatively peaceful and I remember feeling calm, despite the mild pain and irritation of the wheat.

After that, I don't remember too much. But I remember that everything went really dark and I looked down at my hands and they were glowing as if they were fluorescent "day-glow" and a black light was being shined but there was no black light. I know, it's strange but since it's a dream I hope no one will judge me. Ha. So, I'm staring down at my hands and as I'm looking at them, this petrifying sense of foreboding fills my chest to the point where a cold point in the middle of my sternum begins to spread throughout my veins to every single part of my b0dy and I can't feel my legs because I'm so nervous. Suddenly, the lines on my hands (on my palms and the joins at my joints) begin to split open and blood starts pouring from hands in these spider-webby patterns. The lines open up more and more until I can see the gore of the insides of my hands; my muscles are ripping apart to the point where they look like a raw steak being torn. It was bright pink, just like a rare steak, and the blood was this deep red like you see in macabre compositions (photos, digital paintings, stuff like that). My skin-tone had evened out at this point until it looked almost normal, only they were pale (save for where the blood was) and they had that same high-contrast look as before.

Oddly enough, the feeling of foreboding went away and the feeling came back into my legs. That same sense of peace that I had had before returned to me, and I felt utterly calm.

....

And then I don't remember anything else because my stupid alarm clock went off and I didn't have time to just lay still and think about my dream because my daughter woke up and I had to get her up. So, there was really more to that dream but I can't really remember it, but it is unfortunate--like I said. Right now, I'm actually in class and we're discussing basic html (something I already know how to do, so although I'm keeping my ears open for my name, I'm not really paying attention unless I'm helping someone...hence the blog), so I should probably become more involved with the class as of right now. But given the fact that it is a new Term for school, I should probably be paying a little more attention. I like to be engaged in my schoolwork. So, ta' for now!

Side-note: yes, I understand that my dream appears to paint me in a relatively masochistic light but I don't really think I am. It's just a dream. Ha.

Dream Log 1

Okay, so I learned last year while I was pregnant that it was probably a good idea to write down the more interesting dreams. Well, I've decided to blog them in an case, simply because a lot of the time they don't make any sense and it helps me to write them down. Besides, if I blog them, there's a higher chance that I may get some input. Not that anyone reads my insipid blogs as it is. Ha!

In any case, I don't remember a lot of my dream, but I remember one, distinct piece of it:

I remember that I was a child--a young boy (don't ask me why, I have no idea). In fact, it may not have even been me. I might have just been an observer of my dream. It doesn't matter. In any case, there was a young boy, and he seemed very afraid. Like he knew that someone was out to get him. At one point it seemed as if it were Christmas morning and rather than having the presents laid out under the tree, it seemed as if several of the presents were hidden about the house like Easter Eggs. The boy went searching for them, coming across spiderwebs in several locations with rather large, disgusting spiders in them. Bleh.

Moving on, the boy is interrupted by his father (who looked like my father). It's night, and the father appears to be moving something heavy outside, like trash bags or something like that. Either way, it didn't really make any sense. I remember that the boy felt like his dad was the enemy or something like that, but he knew that his dad didn't know it. It was like the boy knew more than the dad did.

It was later then, and the boy was outside of some type of water treatment area, in the road or something like that. I couldn't really understand, but Jeffrey Dean Morgan was there, looking awesome like he did in The Losers (teehee!). He was there for a meeting with the little boy or something like that, explaining that they were next, or someone was coming to get them or something strange like that.

After that the boy has an eventual confrontation with his father, and explains that he knows what the man is doing. Apparently he's been killing off the boy's "team", which I don't really understand--especially considering that it's just a kid. But apparently the dad is not really the one who's been doing it, and they work together to try to figure out who is. Meanwhile, there was a lot of blood and guts all around because somehow they were back at the water treatment area, and and someone had hacked up a body (not sure who's, but I think it was Jeffrey Dean Morgan) and the boy's mother is there, who looked like Kelly Preston. So, the boy tries to protect his mother and father--who knew what was going on but was not a part of it...I don't know--and there was this extreme sense of urgency and foreboding....and then my mom woke me up by plopping Delessi on my chest.

All in all, the dream didn't make much sense and it seemed a lot more intense than what I was able to write here, but I didn't know how to explain it in writing. I love when celebrities pop up in my dreams, though, which happens rather frequently come to think of it. Other than that, I really don't have much to say on the topic. And I wish I could explain more about why people were getting cut up, but I honestly don't know and I can't remember what it looked like in my dream. It was so random. But other than that, I think it was pretty awesome.

Let's Talk About "Glee"!!

So, I haven't stated this in my blog before, but I am a complete gleek. I love the show and I watch it religiously every Tuesday night. It all started one night when my sister had rented the entire first season from Blockbuster--where she used to work (by the way, I'd just like to take the time to say how AWESOME my sister is. Thank you, Ashley. You know why you're awesome!). In any case, she rented it and was watching it before season two came out. She asked me if I'd seen it, and I explained to her how much I hate reality shows (she has a tendency to watch them..."Jersey Shore", anyone? *gag*). Ashley quickly put my fears that another horrible reality show was created to rest, and she informed me that it was more like a musical than anything else. So, she put on the episode where Kurt teaches the football team to dance....and I was instantly in love. And believe me, at this point, my love for "Glee" far surpasses my sister's nuke-warm affection for it.

Let me start off by saying that I completely identify with Rachel. If you're unfamiliar with Rachel Berry, let's just say she's certainly not everyone's favorite sometimes. The "Rachel Berry (Glee") page on Wikipedia at one point describes her as a "...type-A, uber-talented, self-involved know-it-all who's usually alienating her classmates...". And yes, I suppose it's not a good thing, but a lot of the time I find myself feeling the exact same way that she feels when it comes to people. As a singer I sometimes feel a lot more entitled than other people to certain roles (I've been known to have a bf or two behind the scenes of choral concert)--or at least I used to when I was in school. And even now, I easily alienate myself from my co-workers and friends by being too abrasive. From the first time Rachel was introduced, placing a gold star by her name on the sign up sheet for Glee Club in Episode 1, I knew she was going to be my favorite character.

I'm pretty sure the reason why I'm so obsessed with "Glee" is because the world of "Glee" is almost exactly how I wished the world was in real life. Let me explain: In my ideal world, everyone would be able to sing and dance, everyone would randomly burst into song and harmonize perfectly and everyone's mutual respect for music and passion for performing would bring people together to make a spectacular show. I wouldn't necessarily want to be the Rachel Berry of my world, but being a part of something special like that? Yeah, that's definitely important to me.

I suppose I've thought about this way too much. But let's face it, it doesn't look like "Glee" is going anywhere any time soon (thank G-d). The reason it's such a big success is because there's too many crappy reality shows on television and people want a break from real life. People want to feel happy and inspired again and I think "Glee" does that for people. It's like "Dancing With the Stars"--people just want to have a "feel-good" show that they can watch, and maybe even spend some time with their families while they watch it.

Fair thee well, fellow gleeks!

...it's okay. I'm certified!

Fighting Writer's Block

Well, there's been a lot going on recently. Things have been pretty busy, but then what mother of twin infants isn't busy? Of course, I'm thankful for all of the help I have with my family, their father's family and my friends.

But I suppose the thing that's been bothering me the most is that I haven't been able to write. I have a lot that I have to do with my book. It's horrible to have this huge idea, have everything planned out....and then simply be too distracted or tired (there's a thousand excuses) to just sit down and write. It drives me bananas, because when I do actually sit down to write, I forget what I've been writing the next time I get to it, or I'll re-read what I've been writing and it's not as good as I hoped it would be.

I'm sure that what I have to do is just sit down and force myself to do it, but when I do that I don't feel creative. Blah. I really wish I knew how to get over this horrible bought of writer's block. It's not fair--because I role play and things of that nature on IMVU and on AIM and any story-lines I happen to be working on there I do great....it's just having to sit down and do it by myself, I suppose.

Argh. I need to be more focused!

To My Children . . .

Falling leaves circling,
  No sound, save the wind's sweet music.
Laughter and tears,
  Trials and tribulations.
Sunlight shines like angel's song,
  to dance upon our faces.
Spinning until we're lost,
  Falling like the leaves.
Finally, eruptions of laughter.
Peace and Calm.

Trying to Make It

So, yesterday morning started off like any other day. I woke up, fed the babies, let them play while I got ready, got their stuff all packed to spend the day with their Daddy, got them dressed and loaded up into the car, and dropped them off at their Dad's house. Everything was going fine. I kissed them goodbye, and headed off to work.

My ex's house happens to be located near a school and as I was driving off, I noticed all of the kids with their back-packs and all that heading into the building.

Out of nowhere, I had a massive panic attack. I started thinking about all of the things that I'd have to get for them down the road: new school clothes, school supplies, back-packs, school pictures, prom tickets...all of that stuff that I know they'll need or want. Then I realized that, given my situation, I would never be able to provide for my kids the way that I want to.

I mean, I'm a lifeguard. Lifeguards don't exactly bank out every month and as it is, even with WIC and Medicaid and other government assistance, we've been getting by. I don't want to be that type of mother. I mean, realistically, I'd have to work two jobs just to put food on the table, keep clothes on their back, and (hopefully) keep gas in the car--and even then I'd never get to see my kids.

I refuse to be that type of mother.

So, I've decided to go back to school. I've always had a natural talent for web design and graphic design, and I know of a credited tech school where I'll be able to go to school and work while the kids are still small. I'm going to be paying out of my ears eventually to pay off my loans, but I have to do this. I know it's a long way off, at least it can seem like it, but I'll be able to finish school by the time the girls are starting Pre-K.

I've been so passive in my life, waiting for things to happen rather than making them happen. I dropped out of college because I had no idea what I wanted to do, despite my talents, and all I did was screw myself in the end. I can't keep doing what I'm doing. I have to take the offensive in my life and that is certainly what I plan to do.

Working My A-- Off . . . Literally!

Okay, so here's the thing; I posted a blog a while back that pertained to weight loss and the obese. Well, I'm pretty over-weight now. I'm 5' 7" and I weigh over 180lbs. Before I had my kids, I was around 150-160lbs, so I was never exactly "skinny", but I liked my shape and the way my clothes fit. Now, I've become mildly obsessed with getting fit and getting back to a good shape.

I said before how easy it should be to maintain a good weight and how to lose weight if you stick with it and maintain a healthy lifestyle. Well, that's what I'm going to do, and I hope it works. It had always been pretty easy for me to maintain my weight before, so I know that I'm going to have to work pretty hard to lose all of my weight now.

If you read my blog before, I had 7 steps to follow to maintain a healthy lifestyle, so that's what I'm going to do. The biggest thing is that I'm not really going to hard-core diet. I'm going to watch what I eat, yes, and I'm not planning on having a cheese burger every day, but I'm not going to cut out everything I like and starve myself to achieve my ideal weight loss.

I've joined a gym. I'm going to try to go every day, and I've already gone the past two days. I go to Planet Fitness, which is only $20 a month (they also have a membership that is only $10 a month) and it's right next to my house and there's a couple by where I work so I can go there almost every day, which is what I want to do. I'm going to see a personal trainer on Thursday (it's free at my gym) and I'm going to work on a regiment to get rid of my chubby belly, my "thunder thighs", and I'm going to try to increase my upper body strength. Mostly, I just want to get into great shape.

Between work, my girls and the gym, I'm pretty sure life is going to get pretty exhausting, but I know that I can do it, and I will. I'll post updates and let you know how it goes, and everything should work, and I'm willing to work as hard as I have to without killing myself or losing my enjoyment for life, love and food. :)

Feeling Like A Minor Character in My Own Life

Lately I have been realizing how desperate I am to control what people percive me as. I know how I want to be remembered, I know the types of people I want to be around, and I know who I want to be . . . and I couldn't be further from it.

I want to be known as someone who is smart, quick, witty, mysterious, confident, funny, charming, silly, adventurous, sexy, kind, generous, layered, and ecclectic. However, I'm pretty sure I only come off as a loud werido with a habbit of being an asshole.
Obviously, that is not something to be proud of.

I feel like that fellow Norm from "Yes Man" who is so desperate for friendship from the main character, Carl, and he comes off as weird and a little pathetic and sad. But because it's a movie, we find it hilarious. I completely relate to poor Norm. I try so hard to be "cool" and fun that I come off as kind of a retard. And unfortunately, that only attracts other retards.

Don't get me wrong, I have great friends and I love them all. They're all so different and all of them have pieces of their personalities that I really want to encorporate into myself but unfortunately it doesn't really work that way, and I'm sure that I am their weird friend Jen whom they can only stand to be around for a limited amount of time.

I know the types of guys that I'm attracted to, but I seem to repel them and attract ones like me which is hardly a recipe for a successful relationship. Or they're already involved with someone else and I just can't go to that place anymore.

I just feel like such a small, strange, little character in my own life and I just wish that I had what it takes to be the leading lady -- especially of my own story.

Life As A Zombie

Okay, this isn't actually an entry about what it would really be like to be a zombie--although that would be quite interesting (and by interesting, I mean: friggin' AWESOME), so for those of you who were expecting that, sorry. :\ Actually, this is about having to adjust my life and learning how to run on a LOT less sleep than I am used to getting.

Let me start off by saying that G-d blessed me with a gift. That gift is the ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere, and to fall asleep quickly and soundly. I have been known to fall asleep standing in line, on the job, and occasionally under the tables of a bowling alley. Some may view that as a curse, but not I. I am proud of my ability, as sleeping is one of my favorite things in the world to do. In fact, I have been known to marathon sleep--which is to sleep happily all day without interruption except to eat and perhaps pee. I usually get a lot of sleep and I love it.

Now, having said that, when one has twins--or even one new baby--your sleeping patterns become seriously disrupted.

As such, I am now a living zombie.

For me, the normal number of hours of sleep I'm used to getting is somewhere around 9-10, but now? I'm lucky if I get 6. And to some of you, that may seem like a lot.

Well--it's not.

I've been sleeping at work on my breaks a lot more. I take a nap whenever I can, which isn't often because when I'm not with my kids, I'm doing house work, or running errands, working, or finding time to spend with my friends. Life has become one big blurr and only because my children (who, thank the Lord, sleep through the night and are quite good at it) go to sleep at 8pm and wake me up at 5am-7am.

I feel like I'm going to die any minute now.

In fact, I could be sleeping right now.

Goodnight.