Jennifer

Well, my life has been pretty busy. I haven’t had time to do much but sleep, eat, study and work. It’s completely boring, but I guess it’s the sacrifice I make to educate myself. I’ve noticed, though, I guess that I’ve always known, that I’m not the bubbly, easy going person that I usually try to play myself off as. I’m a depressing note of seriousness that I’m sure most people can’t handle. I can see that most would probably just look past me, not wanting to see and dwell on the truths of this world. It’s hard to smile when so much has happened and continues to happen.

I was watching “Donnie Darko” the other day. My favoriet quote is when Jena Malone’s character says “I guess some people are just born with tragedy in their blood.”

Well, today was the ending of my grandma's four-day coma. Fortunately, she'll never again suffer, but unfortunately, my family has lost our Granny. I was so expecting to see her at Christmas.

Sometimes I feel like life falls apart, all at the same time. It's been so hard to be in Arizona, while she was dying in Washington. I almost decided to fly out there on Thursday, but she told me several times that she doesn't want me wasting money to attend her funeral. Work hard, save my money, make my time worthwile and hold precious, my memories.

Through the back window of our '59 wagon
I watched my best friend Jamie slipping further away
I kept on waving till I couldn't see her
And through my tears I asked again why we couldn't stay
Mama whispered softly, time will ease your pain
Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same

And she said, how can I help you to say goodbye
It's okay to hurt, and it's okay to cry
Come let me hold you, and I will try
How can I help you to say goodbye

I used to despise the picture at the top of the All Girl Army pages. When I first saw it, I searched for a representation of myself, and became angry that none of the women portrayed reflected a piece of me. Nothing to recognize, I drifted away from AGA, distraught that once again, I was an outcast.

I used to think that I had no place in AGA, that I was worth less than the other feminists blogging at AGA because I am not educated in Feminist Theory or do not have the time that everyone else seems to have. I used to think that I was less of a feminist because I sometimes participate in gender-designated roles of this world (i.e., I do the laundry and my partner takes out the trash and picks up the dog poop.)

I personally know a family that was affected in the recent shootings of Bailey High School in Colorado. It seems to be a domino effect; one person does something horrible and it inspires another incredibly messed up person to act upon his or her desire to commit a like crime. A shooting in Montreal, then Colorado and now Pennsylvania. Our own US soldiers are enlisting in the army to simply shoot people, like they do in video games. (Quoted to me, by an acquaintance who enlisted several years ago).

Are video games the cause of this violence? I don’t believe so. I can imagine the horrible things that must have happened to these murderers or the psychosis that they must be dealing with. I truly believe that therapy can really help a person get over his or her trauma; but seriously, not everyone can afford (financially and/or emotionally) to commit to long-term therapy. I know for a fact how expensive it can be, especially if you don't have health insurance that covers it.

Well, today was the Primary Election for our city. My boyfriend and I requested early ballots because we thought it was the 6th and we were out of the country then.

I was suprised because there was no polling place on campus; which I think is ridiculous. 30,000 people on campus and no place to vote.
I had to walk about 7 or 8 city blocks to drop our ballots off, in the rain, but it was the only option... (because not voting is NOT an option!)

3:50 AM
Alarm has been going off for 5 minutes now. Brandon’s moving about; I’m no use to him right now. It’s a good thing he’ll only be gone for two days this time. I hate when he drives to Phoenix after five hours of sleep. I hope I reset my alarm.

4:47 AM
Brandon leaves for work. I barely remember kissing goodbye.

6:12 AM
Brandon calls to tell me he’s in Phoenix safe. Time to take a shower and get ready but I think I’ll sleep for another 45 minutes.

8:15 AM
“Maia, go to the bathroom!! I have to go to school and if you don’t pee, you won’t get another chance until tonight. I can’t leave you outside in the rain.”

I can’t express how much I cared for her. I don’t know if she knew how much I loved her, especially since I wasn’t there for her in the last three years of her death. Her will was amazing, as she spent over twenty years trying to outrun the cancer in her breasts. Even when she couldn’t get out of bed, she kept loving.

She taught me to love myself. To love my life and to help others love life. Her amazing soul will live longer than her body and I feel so touched to have a piece of it in my heart. More than anyone, she influenced the woman that I am becoming. Although she gave me many books, my first and favorite changed my life, "Succulent Wild Women."

At a very early age, I learned what would become of my sexuality. Frustration, the inability to comfortably orgasm, and constant guilt is the only thing I know of sex. Most of my life has been spent hiding my sexual energy, while the last three years of my first and only relationship has been spent trying to hide my pain with lies. As I closed my eyes to the pain, I forced myself to have wild crazy sex, dead to my own feelings of angst.

I wanted to be the girl he couldn’t keep his hands off of, even though it was his hands that terrified me the most. His hands tortured me with pain and pleasure. One moment I’m completely under the spell of his pleasure and the next, I’m back at age four, being violated again and again, by those whom I was supposed to be able to trust. I’m so lucky to have him, another man might continue without a care or bolt when I start to sob, but he just holds me… protecting, loving and comforting.

It’s been hard for me to write these blogs, after reading everyone else’s. My first blog was to the child inside me, which was repressed and hidden. I experienced things that n child, or person should ever experience. I grew up too early and never had a true childhood. My mother was never really able to be a part of my family due to the murder of her body and soul.

She experienced incest continuously as a child/ teenager by her fathers, uncles, brothers and cousins; she began self-mutilation with sex, drugs and alcohol at a very early age. The last time I saw her was on my sixth birthday, so I grew up with very jaded knowledge of how women were supposed to be. Before she left, she taught me to be beautiful, to show my legs because that’s what men liked, and that I couldn’t live with out everyone’s attention.

Dear Jenny:

I cry with you and I’ll hold you forever. You are NEVER alone. You are so strong, but with me holding you; you’ll never have to be that strong again. The things you have trapped in your mind can now be released and you’ll never have to feel embarrassed, inferior or naughty. I want you to just sit in my soul and forever illustrate your life and imagination. I will never abandon you.

I hope you know you’re my inspiration for everything. I hope you know that you’re not a burden, a bad daughter or an embarrassment. I hope you know that it was never your fault when they hurt you. It is crucial that you know that. If you will ever smile again, you must learn these things. There are so many things that you needed to know, that no one taught you. And because of that, I cry for you.