It has come to my attention that, after twenty years of ignorance and denial, I am a bit of an odd person. There, I said it. It's time to face the facts and deal with the hand I've been dealt. It has taken awhile to come to terms with this shocking self-revelation, but I now can say in total confidence that I, Jade, am odd and I'm okay with that.
Clearly, this is not as monumental a discovery as I'm making it out to be, but in light of the fact that my last entry was anything but "cheery", I thought something out of the blue was needed. So, here are The Fifteen Reasons Why I Am A Strange One Indeed:
1) Whether I'm alone in my home or in the public eye, I continue to speak to my dog, Rolo, as if she were able to communicate back. No baby talk, but I do find myself asking her some of life's greatest questions, and then pausing for a response.
2) I am a sucker for Science Fiction and Fantasy television series. And nothing thrills me more than finding a kindred spirit, someone who chuckles when they see my TARDIS themed t-shirt. Nothing, except for...
3) ...when someone comments on an incredibly clever Facebook status that I spent time mapping out in my head. Thank you for acknowledging my wit.
4) I have never and will never read an electronic book. Why? Because dog-earing a page of a book makes me feel ten times for accomplished in life.
5) My idea of a perfect weekend morning is waking up, only to spend the next three hours in bed watching movie trailers on YouTube.
6) Also, I read movie and book plots on Wikipedia to determine whether or not I want to dedicate time to either.
7) I have dressed up every Halloween, save this past one. Most memorable costumes include a geisha, a gypsy, and a t-shirt which read "This is my Halloween costume" across the chest. Needless to say, the latter received the most comments (and possibly the most stares...never again).
8) I have collected Archie comics since Grade 4. I also keep a stack of about five in my bathroom at any given time (for those longer sessions).
9) I also collect odd rocks and gemstones. I keep them in the same box I kept a tuft of hair from my first hamster, Teddy. Though the tuft as been removed since, I think of him every time I open that sequined heart box.
10) I am a master air guitar player and lip-syncer and practice frequently in my bedroom.
11) I have my deepest thoughts while showering. Most major revelations in my life have come to mind somewhere between shampooing my hair and shaving my legs. This is partly due to the fact that I often "reenact" interviews between myself and Oprah (yes, Ms. Winfrey herself). Don't ask where this habit came from; I haven't the slightest idea. But I can say that had Oprah ever interviewed me, I would have presented solutions to world poverty, homelessness, the prison system, legalizing gay marriage, the abortion issues, religion in schools and religious freedom, all while being complemented on my latest novel/album/film/etc. Trust me, I am the most kick-ass person Oprah would have ever interviewed!
12) The only way I enjoy cooking is with music blasting. More specifically, I only really enjoy baking while listening to swing music or anything jazzy. Also, I prefer to be wearing either a dress or skirt with my apron and heels. Or bare feet, depends on how sexy I feel while sifting flour.
13) I lay awake two nights ago thinking of things that make me weird before I decided to make a list.
14) I have multiple bizarre celebrity crushes. Not your typical Justin Beiber or Channing Tatum crushes. There's Edward Norton, Kevin Spacey, Robert Downey Jr., Liam Neeson, and David Tennant to name a few. Common thread: they're all older than my folks. Is this a problem?
15) And last, but not least, the final thing that makes me strange is that I think that all these points are strange. Sure, some of them are worthy of a "Come again?", but, hey, these a simply a few things that make up the wonderfully weird person that I am and am so thankful to be. There's been plenty of times growing up and all where I questioned who I was and why I was. There were plenty of times where I remember thinking I would never fit in this world, no matter what. But (it's about to get religious up in here) God made me as I am, when I am, where I am, what I am, and who I am. Honestly, if I tried to attempt to be anything other than Jade, well, I simply wouldn't be Jade (duh...). So strange, weird, or perfectly Jade-like. Call it what you will, and love it all the same!
Saturday, 25 May 2013
Monday, 20 May 2013
R is for RRRRAAAAGGGE!!!
I like to think of myself as a kind and trusting individual. I think, for the most part, I do a good job of being a good friend and a genuinely lovely person. I have my muttering-curses-under-my-breath and rolling-my-eyes moments, but compared to my teenage years, they are seldom and, usually, for good reason when they do happen.
But every now and then, it's like Something overtakes me and is determined to make me look like the biggest jerk who ever walked the Earth. I describe It like a bubble of rage, somewhere in my diaphragm that lurks around within. It feeds off of every wrongdoing done to me (imagined or real) and prefers carbonated beverages. Confined to the torso region of my body, It doesn't get much exercise. Combine that with the number of soft drinks I consume, It simple grows and grows. I'm pretty sure this little Rage Bubble creature waltzes around my diaphragm, shaking one fist at the world and face-palming Himself with the other hand.
I've never cared too much about Him freeloading; in fact, I avoid Him as much as possible. Being the "kind and trusting" person I am, I've never given much thought to evicting Him. I don't want to hurt His feelings, you know. But that has never stopped HIM from being a bit of a douche. It's like He never learned how to be socially normal or politically correct or even just nice. And when I least expect it, He jumps out of hiding and overtakes my body. Sometimes He makes me say things that I end up regretting, sometimes it's typing something that I should have thought through first. And sometimes He overtakes my actions ( a la dumping water on a friend, back-handing my sister, cutting someone off, etc). It's not a pretty moment and it's never nice.
Although I haven't evicted Him entirely (He has a lot of baggage, and it'll take sometime to clean up Hid mess), I've downsized His living quarters. I've given Him limited access and instructed Him not to act before running it by me first. He's not too pleased about the changes I've made, but I can say that I've had far less foot-in-mouth instances ever since! That doesn't mean I don't feeling Him seething around inside. Sometimes, I hear Him freaking out, yelling things that shouldn't even be thought of, and pounding against my heart as if to agitate me into action. But then I put down my Coke Zero, take a few deep breaths, and tell Him to get lost and watch TV or something. And life returns to rainbows and butterflies once more!
But every now and then, it's like Something overtakes me and is determined to make me look like the biggest jerk who ever walked the Earth. I describe It like a bubble of rage, somewhere in my diaphragm that lurks around within. It feeds off of every wrongdoing done to me (imagined or real) and prefers carbonated beverages. Confined to the torso region of my body, It doesn't get much exercise. Combine that with the number of soft drinks I consume, It simple grows and grows. I'm pretty sure this little Rage Bubble creature waltzes around my diaphragm, shaking one fist at the world and face-palming Himself with the other hand.
I've never cared too much about Him freeloading; in fact, I avoid Him as much as possible. Being the "kind and trusting" person I am, I've never given much thought to evicting Him. I don't want to hurt His feelings, you know. But that has never stopped HIM from being a bit of a douche. It's like He never learned how to be socially normal or politically correct or even just nice. And when I least expect it, He jumps out of hiding and overtakes my body. Sometimes He makes me say things that I end up regretting, sometimes it's typing something that I should have thought through first. And sometimes He overtakes my actions ( a la dumping water on a friend, back-handing my sister, cutting someone off, etc). It's not a pretty moment and it's never nice.
Although I haven't evicted Him entirely (He has a lot of baggage, and it'll take sometime to clean up Hid mess), I've downsized His living quarters. I've given Him limited access and instructed Him not to act before running it by me first. He's not too pleased about the changes I've made, but I can say that I've had far less foot-in-mouth instances ever since! That doesn't mean I don't feeling Him seething around inside. Sometimes, I hear Him freaking out, yelling things that shouldn't even be thought of, and pounding against my heart as if to agitate me into action. But then I put down my Coke Zero, take a few deep breaths, and tell Him to get lost and watch TV or something. And life returns to rainbows and butterflies once more!
Sunday, 19 May 2013
And I'm not talking about poor eyesight...
So, I have this theory that there is a curse that hangs over every single person. It's the curse of the "double-take".
Let's not beat around the bush; we've all been there at some point, and I'm sure a few of my readers are still there with me. When passing by a member of the opposite sex, there is this sudden unintentional urge to turn back and see what you're missing. Sometimes you don't even walk by the person; you might simply be within eye-shot of said individual.
Point-in-Case:
This morning, I was checking out a new church with my mother. Now, we were specifically checking out this church because of the large number of people my age in attendance. Seeing as how I'm still trying to find my place here, we thought we'd give it a whirl. I was not five feet into the building when I spot a dude on the sofa in the lobby. Had I been asked to describe him in that moment, I wouldn't have been able to answer, as I honestly had not gotten a good look at him. Now, I had a choice in that moment: I could have continued to walk towards the coffee bar with my mom, not giving the guy a second though...or I could sneak another "casual" glance in his direction. I chose the latter. Upon a double-take, I concluded that he wasn't my type. Now, was there anything overly repulsive or desirable about this guy? No, not that I saw anyways. Did I need to look at him a second time? Absolutely not. Would I have checked him out again if "he" had been a "she"? Nope. But why is this?
Now, this all may seem quite shallow to anyone reading this. I like to think of myself as not being a shallow person...but a person who, nonetheless, appreciates the human body (particularly of the male variety). I don't think this is wrong, but feel free to disagree with me. I want to talk about attraction, not lust here.
As a single, straight female, I am obviously attracted to men. As a single, straight, Christian female whose majority of friends are in relationships (dating, engaged, married, with children, etc), I am acutely aware of my singledom. There's this weird and, I think, unnatural pressure on Christian singles to get married off young (they don't call it "Bridal College" for nothing). And, from a "worldly" standpoint, it's pretty uncool to be single if you're not hooking up every other weekend. As I am neither hooking up or currently hitched, I'm in that awkward and uncomfortable stage of being simply single...
...which means I'm also very aware of any and all male activity in my presence. I think nearly all singles suffer from the overly acute awareness of the opposite sex. For some, it peaks in high school, others in college, and for some of us it really never ends until we tie the knot.
So, is the double-take a natural phenomenon? Maybe so, but maybe not. Do I continue to stand by my belief that while I'm double-taking some guy in church, there's someone just as single as me doing the same to me? I certainly won't deny it! But cheers to the single life, however long it lasts. Though I pray that one day, that "double-take" turns into a slo-mo movie moment, complete with montage, cheesy 80's music, and a happily ever after finale!
Let's not beat around the bush; we've all been there at some point, and I'm sure a few of my readers are still there with me. When passing by a member of the opposite sex, there is this sudden unintentional urge to turn back and see what you're missing. Sometimes you don't even walk by the person; you might simply be within eye-shot of said individual.
Point-in-Case:
This morning, I was checking out a new church with my mother. Now, we were specifically checking out this church because of the large number of people my age in attendance. Seeing as how I'm still trying to find my place here, we thought we'd give it a whirl. I was not five feet into the building when I spot a dude on the sofa in the lobby. Had I been asked to describe him in that moment, I wouldn't have been able to answer, as I honestly had not gotten a good look at him. Now, I had a choice in that moment: I could have continued to walk towards the coffee bar with my mom, not giving the guy a second though...or I could sneak another "casual" glance in his direction. I chose the latter. Upon a double-take, I concluded that he wasn't my type. Now, was there anything overly repulsive or desirable about this guy? No, not that I saw anyways. Did I need to look at him a second time? Absolutely not. Would I have checked him out again if "he" had been a "she"? Nope. But why is this?
Now, this all may seem quite shallow to anyone reading this. I like to think of myself as not being a shallow person...but a person who, nonetheless, appreciates the human body (particularly of the male variety). I don't think this is wrong, but feel free to disagree with me. I want to talk about attraction, not lust here.
As a single, straight female, I am obviously attracted to men. As a single, straight, Christian female whose majority of friends are in relationships (dating, engaged, married, with children, etc), I am acutely aware of my singledom. There's this weird and, I think, unnatural pressure on Christian singles to get married off young (they don't call it "Bridal College" for nothing). And, from a "worldly" standpoint, it's pretty uncool to be single if you're not hooking up every other weekend. As I am neither hooking up or currently hitched, I'm in that awkward and uncomfortable stage of being simply single...
...which means I'm also very aware of any and all male activity in my presence. I think nearly all singles suffer from the overly acute awareness of the opposite sex. For some, it peaks in high school, others in college, and for some of us it really never ends until we tie the knot.
So, is the double-take a natural phenomenon? Maybe so, but maybe not. Do I continue to stand by my belief that while I'm double-taking some guy in church, there's someone just as single as me doing the same to me? I certainly won't deny it! But cheers to the single life, however long it lasts. Though I pray that one day, that "double-take" turns into a slo-mo movie moment, complete with montage, cheesy 80's music, and a happily ever after finale!
Sunday, 5 May 2013
Family Portrait
I never fully realized how blessed I am to have the family that I have. Before England, I was living within thirty minutes from nearly my entire extended family for the first time since grade two. I lived in the same country as my family for most of my life, but nearly always lived far enough away from family that Christmas was a HUGE deal and birthday presents between my sister and I were always combined.
This never bothered me. In fact, until recently, it been a bit of a relief to be apart from family that I honestly grew up not knowing very well. I would feel awkward during reunions because, as much as I love being part of a family, I never truly felt part of my greater, extended clan. I don't blame my parents for this; in fact, I've spoken about this to them on numerous occasions. I grew up rolling my eyes when people would talk about how much they missed their cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and the like. It just never made sense to me, never having lived close enough and been old enough to warrant a decent relationship with any of them.
After having finally come to terms with the fact that, yes, I don't fair well with long-distance relationships, which in turn leads to many unhealthy coping mechanisms, I can finally say, in all seriousness and joy that I love, and greatly enjoy my extended family!
I have the strangest, most lovable family ever! I have my mom's side of the family: a 101 cousins (all of who are more tech-savvy than me...and probably dress better), my aunt and uncle who built an entirely new house simply to fit even more people into the already bustling household, my grave-digging uncle, the uncle who introduced me to modern technology (aka. the DVD player), the secretly totally hip grandmother/free hairdresser, and "Waste Not, Want Not" obsessive gardener grandfather. My father's side of the family is a bit smaller, but no less lovable: my Shaggy-look-alike cousin (who has a tattoo, which instantly gives him more swag than me), my chicken-rearing uncle (who bought his wife a corvette), my aunt who I personally don't think has aged a day during my lifetime (and she drives a corvette), my not-afraid-to-call-you-out grandma who made me realize that my dad was once a kid too (also, she gave me aprons, so she's a winner in my books), and my adorable grandfather who, although he is nearly deaf, still knows how to crack a mean joke!
I love my family, immediate and extended. We are a quirky bunch of people who laugh and eat and eat and laugh together when we can. Though I still have that initial awkward sensation upon entering any given family scenario, I know that I will leave each gathering with a grin on my face and having gained about three pounds extra. C'est la vie!
This never bothered me. In fact, until recently, it been a bit of a relief to be apart from family that I honestly grew up not knowing very well. I would feel awkward during reunions because, as much as I love being part of a family, I never truly felt part of my greater, extended clan. I don't blame my parents for this; in fact, I've spoken about this to them on numerous occasions. I grew up rolling my eyes when people would talk about how much they missed their cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and the like. It just never made sense to me, never having lived close enough and been old enough to warrant a decent relationship with any of them.
After having finally come to terms with the fact that, yes, I don't fair well with long-distance relationships, which in turn leads to many unhealthy coping mechanisms, I can finally say, in all seriousness and joy that I love, and greatly enjoy my extended family!
I have the strangest, most lovable family ever! I have my mom's side of the family: a 101 cousins (all of who are more tech-savvy than me...and probably dress better), my aunt and uncle who built an entirely new house simply to fit even more people into the already bustling household, my grave-digging uncle, the uncle who introduced me to modern technology (aka. the DVD player), the secretly totally hip grandmother/free hairdresser, and "Waste Not, Want Not" obsessive gardener grandfather. My father's side of the family is a bit smaller, but no less lovable: my Shaggy-look-alike cousin (who has a tattoo, which instantly gives him more swag than me), my chicken-rearing uncle (who bought his wife a corvette), my aunt who I personally don't think has aged a day during my lifetime (and she drives a corvette), my not-afraid-to-call-you-out grandma who made me realize that my dad was once a kid too (also, she gave me aprons, so she's a winner in my books), and my adorable grandfather who, although he is nearly deaf, still knows how to crack a mean joke!
I love my family, immediate and extended. We are a quirky bunch of people who laugh and eat and eat and laugh together when we can. Though I still have that initial awkward sensation upon entering any given family scenario, I know that I will leave each gathering with a grin on my face and having gained about three pounds extra. C'est la vie!
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