Wednesday, May 4, 2016
I'm back, Bitches!
Ok, so I didn't start over. I failed. Miserably. Not only did I stopped doing this blog, I just...stopped. I turned 51 and my life isn't any better than what it was when I was 45. I will say that it took a long time to figure out what my password was and the combining of Google all emails or something and other bullshit reasons but it's the truth. I simply couldn't figure out how to start posting again. I used that as my excuse that I can't do my blog but, in reality, I didn't try very hard either. So, let's start over. Tell the truth and figure this shit out.
Hi. My name is Janine and I was born a poor, Black child in......
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Words and Misinterpretations
Yep, I fell behind. I know it's been a long time. I've had plenty of things to say but never got around to writing them down. That's a bullshit answer, really. I've always had the time to do it but I am too lazy to put down the chocolate bar, get my fat ass off the couch and walk over to the computer. Three simple steps to doing what I vowed to do on a regular basis. Maybe writing down what's in my head is scarier than I thought. Understanding the shit rolling around this head of mine is quite a daunting task, don't you think? But it must be done....
Words. They can get you into trouble whether you want it to or not. What you say, how you say it, what words you use and in what order - all and any of it - can be bad. Why is it that the words and what you're trying to say never come out exactly as it's been rehearsed in your head? You take the time to put your thoughts together then write it down, then read it, it usually sounds exactly how it sounded in your head. Then someone reads it and all hell brakes loose. "Wait!! That's not what I meant!!" "Well, that's how I read it..fuck you.." Shit. But that's not what it said...........
It's true. What you say goes out into the universe and you can't take it back. But what about writing it? It can be erased, deleted...visually gone forever. Yeah, you may have read it and now you remember it but only what you THINK it said and usually it's five times worse than what it really was. Then I have to defend what I wrote but why should I have to defend something that I wrote?? How did a simple statement get blown to such enormous proportions that it then becomes a defense in not only the right to say whatever the hell I want to defending your character?? How did I get HERE?
The problem is this: You read what I wrote but didn't really think about who wrote it and why they wrote it and immediately assumed the worse. How about giving them the benefit of the doubt and really think about all the possible scenarios of WHY this was writing BEFORE you shit all over them. Is that too much to ask?
Assumption is a dangerous thing. You know what they say about the word "assume", don't you? When you assume. it makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me".
Within the last two months I've had several instances where people are upset about something that was said and automatically assumed the worse rather than stepping back and thinking things through. It's like it's easier to think poorly of me rather then think about it and realized you know me better than that. Think before you act...please....you won't be pissed off and hurt and I won't either. Step back, count to ten, use your inside voice and politely ask, "What the hell was that all about, Janine??" Now, was that so hard?? :)
Words. They can get you into trouble whether you want it to or not. What you say, how you say it, what words you use and in what order - all and any of it - can be bad. Why is it that the words and what you're trying to say never come out exactly as it's been rehearsed in your head? You take the time to put your thoughts together then write it down, then read it, it usually sounds exactly how it sounded in your head. Then someone reads it and all hell brakes loose. "Wait!! That's not what I meant!!" "Well, that's how I read it..fuck you.." Shit. But that's not what it said...........
It's true. What you say goes out into the universe and you can't take it back. But what about writing it? It can be erased, deleted...visually gone forever. Yeah, you may have read it and now you remember it but only what you THINK it said and usually it's five times worse than what it really was. Then I have to defend what I wrote but why should I have to defend something that I wrote?? How did a simple statement get blown to such enormous proportions that it then becomes a defense in not only the right to say whatever the hell I want to defending your character?? How did I get HERE?
The problem is this: You read what I wrote but didn't really think about who wrote it and why they wrote it and immediately assumed the worse. How about giving them the benefit of the doubt and really think about all the possible scenarios of WHY this was writing BEFORE you shit all over them. Is that too much to ask?
Assumption is a dangerous thing. You know what they say about the word "assume", don't you? When you assume. it makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me".
Within the last two months I've had several instances where people are upset about something that was said and automatically assumed the worse rather than stepping back and thinking things through. It's like it's easier to think poorly of me rather then think about it and realized you know me better than that. Think before you act...please....you won't be pissed off and hurt and I won't either. Step back, count to ten, use your inside voice and politely ask, "What the hell was that all about, Janine??" Now, was that so hard?? :)
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Glory Days - Part 2
Google is good. I know, people are starting to think that Google has become a monopoly of sorts. What to know something? Google it. Where is Iran? Google it. Who is Janine Marzett? Google it. (I did and not very impressed. You know the theory that you should write your own obiturary now and then do it? Well, these days, Google yourself and if nothing impressive comes up, change it. Ok, I'm getting off the subject....)
After Carol came to visit, it really got me to think about my past, those days where I really had the best time of my life. I was 23, a size 14 (to a thick girl, that's smokin' hot!), legs like Tina Turner (no shit, really), my own apt, cash on hand nightly, some sort of love life and not a care in the world. You;d think that I would at age 23 but I really didn't. Insurance and 401k meant shit to me. I had no bills other than rent, car insurance and utilities. I ate and drank and imbibed in the occasional illegal drug all to my hearts content, when I wanted and where I wanted. I surrounded myself with people who showed me what fun a carefree adult could have and I experienced a lot of "firsts" with these people. Each one contributed to my growth as a person and shared with me those days where I truly was happy. Joey, Danny, Carol, Christopher, Steve, Randall, Patrick, BJ, John, Jim R., Jim D. and yes, even Charles.
What does this have to do with Google?? Let me explain.........
After Carol came to visit, it really got me to think about my past, those days where I really had the best time of my life. I was 23, a size 14 (to a thick girl, that's smokin' hot!), legs like Tina Turner (no shit, really), my own apt, cash on hand nightly, some sort of love life and not a care in the world. You;d think that I would at age 23 but I really didn't. Insurance and 401k meant shit to me. I had no bills other than rent, car insurance and utilities. I ate and drank and imbibed in the occasional illegal drug all to my hearts content, when I wanted and where I wanted. I surrounded myself with people who showed me what fun a carefree adult could have and I experienced a lot of "firsts" with these people. Each one contributed to my growth as a person and shared with me those days where I truly was happy. Joey, Danny, Carol, Christopher, Steve, Randall, Patrick, BJ, John, Jim R., Jim D. and yes, even Charles.
What does this have to do with Google?? Let me explain.........
Monday, May 17, 2010
Glory Days - Part 1
I was driving around this weekend, running my usual Saturday errands when the song, "Glory Days" by Bruce Springsteen came on the radio. I love that song! I turned the volume up a bit and sang as loudly and badly as I could, secretly wishing that it was me instead of Patti (his wife) singing back-up vocals. I never thought she could sing. Warbles, actually. Anyway, my dissing of Mrs. Springsteen isn't the focus of this post. "Glory Days" is about remembering the best time(s) of your life whether it was when you were in grade school, high school, college, best job or best love. In doing this blog I want to reflect to the days where I felt my best and my worst and right now I'm revelling in one of those "glory" days.
A few weeks ago a dear friend of mine, Carol, came to visit me here in Chicago. I've known Carol since I was 20 yrs old. Were worked at a catering company together where her husband, Ali, was the head chef. I was with Carol when I turned 21 and she took me to a male strip club and got me drunk (legally) for the first time. It was on god-awful whiskey sours. I was 20 and didn't know there was better bourbon available rather than what you got for $3. A few years later we ended up working for the same nightclub called Hearthrob in Westport. It was a huge bar that occupied the space of a former bread factory. It had five bars, one of which was the main bar in the middle that was in the shape of a huge, red heart. The rounded, top part of the heart was where the waitresses would get served at either side and at the bottom, two bar stations at the point. Upstairs was the mezzanine, underneath was the Oyster bar. The other two bar stations was the Gameroom (where there was pool tables and video games) and the Head - located right between the men's and ladies' bathrooms where. Hearthrob had a multi-leveled dance floor and the best DJ in town named BJ. Yes, BJ the DJ. Hearthrob is where I met Danny, one of my best friends; Charles, the idiot who I dated and thought I loved and who I thought loved me; and many fellow bartenders who became dear friends and made it truly the best time of my life.
Why am I reliving the glory days now? Well, unexpectedly, within the last month, I've re-connected with a few of the Hearthrob gang and it has made me happier than I've been in a long time. In my next posting I will introduce you to the cast of characters and give you insight in what they meant to me during those glory days. Stay tuned!
A few weeks ago a dear friend of mine, Carol, came to visit me here in Chicago. I've known Carol since I was 20 yrs old. Were worked at a catering company together where her husband, Ali, was the head chef. I was with Carol when I turned 21 and she took me to a male strip club and got me drunk (legally) for the first time. It was on god-awful whiskey sours. I was 20 and didn't know there was better bourbon available rather than what you got for $3. A few years later we ended up working for the same nightclub called Hearthrob in Westport. It was a huge bar that occupied the space of a former bread factory. It had five bars, one of which was the main bar in the middle that was in the shape of a huge, red heart. The rounded, top part of the heart was where the waitresses would get served at either side and at the bottom, two bar stations at the point. Upstairs was the mezzanine, underneath was the Oyster bar. The other two bar stations was the Gameroom (where there was pool tables and video games) and the Head - located right between the men's and ladies' bathrooms where. Hearthrob had a multi-leveled dance floor and the best DJ in town named BJ. Yes, BJ the DJ. Hearthrob is where I met Danny, one of my best friends; Charles, the idiot who I dated and thought I loved and who I thought loved me; and many fellow bartenders who became dear friends and made it truly the best time of my life.
Why am I reliving the glory days now? Well, unexpectedly, within the last month, I've re-connected with a few of the Hearthrob gang and it has made me happier than I've been in a long time. In my next posting I will introduce you to the cast of characters and give you insight in what they meant to me during those glory days. Stay tuned!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Bursting the bubble....
Last night I was the asked the question every parent dreads to hear. No, it wasn't, "Where do babies come from?" - that, would have killed me. Let me set the scene for you:
Sophia and I get home from our busy day. We're still laughing from acting silly in the car. Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca" came on the radio and she had never heard it but like the beat of it. We danced and sang to it after I had parked the car. I'm sure if anyone would have walked by or happened to have looked out their window they would have seen two silly-looking people shaking their bodies and waving their hands inside of a tiny, black car. Her favorite line was, "...and her skin the color mocha!" after she realized SHE had mocha-colored skin; so every time she heard that line she trailed her fingers up her arm singing really loudly. Afterwards she insisted I download that song to my iPod so she could listen to it all the time. (Am I willing to shell out 99 cents for that song? Mmmm, gotta think on that one but it was fun!) So, we get into the house and she proceeds to do what she's suppose to do when we get home: coat/jacket gets hung up, cleans out her lunch bag and throws away any garbage and then takes out her homework folder and papers that I need to look at from school. I'm in the kitchen and I hear her taking the papers out of her folder. Then I hear,
"Mom! I have a question to ask you and I want you to tell me the truth!".
Uh-oh. I look over and she's coming up the hallway into the kitchen.
"Alright, what's the question?"
She stops right in front of me, puts her hands on her hips, cocks her head slightly sideways and says,
"Did you hide the Easter eggs or did the Easter Bunny and tell me the truth!! Please don't lie like some parents do to not hurt their kids feelings!!"
Shit. How the hell do I get out of this???
"Why do you want to know? Who have you been talking to?"
"I just want to know really badly and just don't lie to me, please Mom!"
Double shit.
"Ok, where is this coming from all of a sudden? Who have you been talking to? Rachael? I bet it was Rachael, it's always Rachael. Is it?"
She pulls herself up to sit on top of the kitchen counter.
"Yeah, it was Rachael but she said that parents really hide the Easter eggs, not a rabbit. It's always the parents that does stuff like that so just tell me, please, did you hide the eggs??"
Bitch.
The look on her face was of slight disappointment in knowing that I possibly hid the eggs and sadness. My mind is racing at this point. First I'm thinking about that fucking, little, mouthy girl she goes to school with who tells her some of the weirdest shit that I have to dispel every time I hear some craziness come out of Sophia's mouth and imagining them on the playground and Rachael telling Sophia there is no Easter Bunny and ruining her fantasy and who the fuck does she think she is and etc, etc.... But, at the same time I'm quickly trying to figure out if I should just take this as the moment of truth and just tell her the truth.
But I couldn't. I just couldn't. The way she was looking at me was as if she was telepathically trying to tell me, "If you hid the eggs and there's no fucking Easter Bunny bringing me all the treats it'll kill me, Mom." So, I lied.
I came close to my child growing up a little as a small dose of reality almost hit her square in her beautiful, mocha-colored face. Real close to Sophia losing a part of her blind and trusting innocence and it made me a little sad. I realized that it was ME who wasn't ready for that step. I wasn't ready to see my 8 yr old question everything as real or not real and to start disbelieving and distrusting things as most adults do. I want her to continue to believe that there is a huge rabbit hopping from place to place delivering treats and a fat, bearded man breaks his way into our house to leave presents for all the children! I want her to continue to make her Christmas list and dream of Christmas morning. I remember that feeling. That feeling of anticipation and feeling like I can't wait not another day more or I'll burst! Nothing can make you sad and you're happy everyday because of what's about to come. I remember that feeling. I miss that feeling for myself but I'm lucky to continue to feel it through her. The secret knowing that I brought the smiles and giggles and screams of delight to my child is a wonderful, selfish feeling. I want her to continue to have that feeling, and me, too, for as long as possible.
I'll be damned if fucking Rachael is going to take that away from me..errr..her.
Sophia and I get home from our busy day. We're still laughing from acting silly in the car. Ricky Martin's "Livin' La Vida Loca" came on the radio and she had never heard it but like the beat of it. We danced and sang to it after I had parked the car. I'm sure if anyone would have walked by or happened to have looked out their window they would have seen two silly-looking people shaking their bodies and waving their hands inside of a tiny, black car. Her favorite line was, "...and her skin the color mocha!" after she realized SHE had mocha-colored skin; so every time she heard that line she trailed her fingers up her arm singing really loudly. Afterwards she insisted I download that song to my iPod so she could listen to it all the time. (Am I willing to shell out 99 cents for that song? Mmmm, gotta think on that one but it was fun!) So, we get into the house and she proceeds to do what she's suppose to do when we get home: coat/jacket gets hung up, cleans out her lunch bag and throws away any garbage and then takes out her homework folder and papers that I need to look at from school. I'm in the kitchen and I hear her taking the papers out of her folder. Then I hear,
"Mom! I have a question to ask you and I want you to tell me the truth!".
Uh-oh. I look over and she's coming up the hallway into the kitchen.
"Alright, what's the question?"
She stops right in front of me, puts her hands on her hips, cocks her head slightly sideways and says,
"Did you hide the Easter eggs or did the Easter Bunny and tell me the truth!! Please don't lie like some parents do to not hurt their kids feelings!!"
Shit. How the hell do I get out of this???
"Why do you want to know? Who have you been talking to?"
"I just want to know really badly and just don't lie to me, please Mom!"
Double shit.
"Ok, where is this coming from all of a sudden? Who have you been talking to? Rachael? I bet it was Rachael, it's always Rachael. Is it?"
She pulls herself up to sit on top of the kitchen counter.
"Yeah, it was Rachael but she said that parents really hide the Easter eggs, not a rabbit. It's always the parents that does stuff like that so just tell me, please, did you hide the eggs??"
Bitch.
The look on her face was of slight disappointment in knowing that I possibly hid the eggs and sadness. My mind is racing at this point. First I'm thinking about that fucking, little, mouthy girl she goes to school with who tells her some of the weirdest shit that I have to dispel every time I hear some craziness come out of Sophia's mouth and imagining them on the playground and Rachael telling Sophia there is no Easter Bunny and ruining her fantasy and who the fuck does she think she is and etc, etc.... But, at the same time I'm quickly trying to figure out if I should just take this as the moment of truth and just tell her the truth.
But I couldn't. I just couldn't. The way she was looking at me was as if she was telepathically trying to tell me, "If you hid the eggs and there's no fucking Easter Bunny bringing me all the treats it'll kill me, Mom." So, I lied.
I came close to my child growing up a little as a small dose of reality almost hit her square in her beautiful, mocha-colored face. Real close to Sophia losing a part of her blind and trusting innocence and it made me a little sad. I realized that it was ME who wasn't ready for that step. I wasn't ready to see my 8 yr old question everything as real or not real and to start disbelieving and distrusting things as most adults do. I want her to continue to believe that there is a huge rabbit hopping from place to place delivering treats and a fat, bearded man breaks his way into our house to leave presents for all the children! I want her to continue to make her Christmas list and dream of Christmas morning. I remember that feeling. That feeling of anticipation and feeling like I can't wait not another day more or I'll burst! Nothing can make you sad and you're happy everyday because of what's about to come. I remember that feeling. I miss that feeling for myself but I'm lucky to continue to feel it through her. The secret knowing that I brought the smiles and giggles and screams of delight to my child is a wonderful, selfish feeling. I want her to continue to have that feeling, and me, too, for as long as possible.
I'll be damned if fucking Rachael is going to take that away from me..errr..her.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The Look
It's Sunday morning and I'm enjoying my Sumatra coffee. So delicious and necessary. It's a bright, beautiful day here in Chicago and I'm looking forward to what the day will bring. My daughter Sophia spent the night at her Dad's house Friday night and came home last night. After a little bit of drama she sat down at the end of the couch, brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on her folded hands and looked at me. The look on her face was a look that I have seen everyday for the last 8-1/2 years - love.
Growing up you have dreams of what your life will be like, what your children will look like and how it will really feel to be a parent. Watching my own parents I remember thinking, "I can't wait to have my own kids! That would be cool!" but it was always in reference to how cool it would be to be able to tell someone what to do and to just be "in charge" and have ownership of your life. Not that I wanted to be able to boss someone around (well, a little bit) but to be able to make the decisions. Also, I watched the interactions of my siblings (I'm the youngest of five - hence the need to boss instead of BE bossed lol) with my parents and with each other and always thought it was great. There was, and still is, so much love within our family and that's what I wanted when I got married and became a parent. To feel the love of a child and now that I have that, I can't imagine not having it.
Ok, so why am I writing about this? The purpose of this blog is to get me to re-figure my life path. To understand what I've done, where I went wrong, where I went right and to re-discover who I am and where I fit in in all of this. Looking over and seeing my beautiful little girl and the look on her face last night was the highlight of my day made me realize SHE is why I am doing this! Can't think of a better way or reason to start, can you?
Growing up you have dreams of what your life will be like, what your children will look like and how it will really feel to be a parent. Watching my own parents I remember thinking, "I can't wait to have my own kids! That would be cool!" but it was always in reference to how cool it would be to be able to tell someone what to do and to just be "in charge" and have ownership of your life. Not that I wanted to be able to boss someone around (well, a little bit) but to be able to make the decisions. Also, I watched the interactions of my siblings (I'm the youngest of five - hence the need to boss instead of BE bossed lol) with my parents and with each other and always thought it was great. There was, and still is, so much love within our family and that's what I wanted when I got married and became a parent. To feel the love of a child and now that I have that, I can't imagine not having it.
Ok, so why am I writing about this? The purpose of this blog is to get me to re-figure my life path. To understand what I've done, where I went wrong, where I went right and to re-discover who I am and where I fit in in all of this. Looking over and seeing my beautiful little girl and the look on her face last night was the highlight of my day made me realize SHE is why I am doing this! Can't think of a better way or reason to start, can you?
Friday, April 16, 2010
What the hell happened to me???
I use to write. I use to write all the time. In high school I wrote as if one day my poems and short stories would get published but only after I died and that's when I'd be famous - posthumously.
I turned 45 two weeks ago and it got me thinking - What the hell happened to me??
Thinking back to those dreams of a 16 yr old is funny and depressing all at the same time. I know much has changed from the life of a cute, chubby, 16 yr old high school girl to a fat, 45 yr old, single mother of an eight year old girl but what happened to those dreams? Are they truly gone, never to return? Is it too late to dream? Is it too late for me to find me again?
So, here's my blog. I don't know what it will accomplish. Maybe it will be just the outlet I need to give a silent voice to what's rattling around in my head. If this was Hollywood, this would be: Day 1 of the rest of my life and it will end with me re-discovering who I am, giving life a chance again, stop the regrets, lose weight, have my child actually listen to what I have to say, lose weight (I know I already said that but it's always worth repeating) and find love. The film would end and the credits would roll and life will be lived happily ever after.
OR
I could read what I put down and realize I'm more fucked up then I thought.........
I turned 45 two weeks ago and it got me thinking - What the hell happened to me??
Thinking back to those dreams of a 16 yr old is funny and depressing all at the same time. I know much has changed from the life of a cute, chubby, 16 yr old high school girl to a fat, 45 yr old, single mother of an eight year old girl but what happened to those dreams? Are they truly gone, never to return? Is it too late to dream? Is it too late for me to find me again?
So, here's my blog. I don't know what it will accomplish. Maybe it will be just the outlet I need to give a silent voice to what's rattling around in my head. If this was Hollywood, this would be: Day 1 of the rest of my life and it will end with me re-discovering who I am, giving life a chance again, stop the regrets, lose weight, have my child actually listen to what I have to say, lose weight (I know I already said that but it's always worth repeating) and find love. The film would end and the credits would roll and life will be lived happily ever after.
OR
I could read what I put down and realize I'm more fucked up then I thought.........
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