tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86754222024-03-13T10:45:12.615-04:00Avenue CThings that make my world go 'round...Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-24156502113091109292010-08-02T12:13:00.000-04:002010-08-02T12:13:08.506-04:00A Life in ListsYesterday I spent some time with <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Listography-Journal-Your-Life-Lists/dp/0811859088">this book</a> that I bought on a whim at Barnes & Noble a few months back. This turns out to be the perfect book for me because 1) I'm obsessed with lists and 2) I'm constantly giving blank stares when asked, "What's your favorite blahdy blah?" Now that I have a book which requires me to put some thought into those questions maybe I will actually be able to come up with my favorite actor, childhood memory or personality trait on the spot. Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-89467319256390220872010-02-19T00:48:00.004-05:002010-02-19T01:27:03.511-05:00Artsy FartsyI've always been really interested in poetry as a form of expression. I go to poetry slams and listen to others' works and talk about how I'd like to give it a go myself one day. My friend Ray is a poet and took me to a few readings. Every time we g chat I tell him I want to write or go to a workshop and he says, "do it" and then I don't.<br /><br />I get afraid to try things that I don't know a lot about or don't know if I'll be good at. I was whining about this to Ray over g chat the other day...how I don't even know what poetry really is or what form it should be in or...here's how the conversation went:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me:</span> i want to try writing poetry but have a hard time starting because i don't know the form or anything</span></span></span><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>i'm a perfectionist like that</span></span></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">allsense</span>: don't worry about form</span></span></span><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>desire is everything</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>don't censor your voice</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>if i could offer any advice</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>to someone who wanted to write</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>it would be to write</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>first and foremost</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>the rest comes</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>when it's ready</span></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: cool. thanks for the tip. i just need to start putting pen to paper instead of thinking about it so much.</span></span></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">allsense</span>: exactly!</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>there's a saying in architecture</span></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"></span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>critics build nothing.<br /><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Thank you, Ray. I needed that. Here's to buliding:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Puppet</span><br />You want to live your life on a stage<br />To act and sound off and do your dance<br />And that is fine<br />But only for a while.<br /><br />For what happens, good man, when the crowds are gone<br />And the lights are off<br />And one, just one, remains?<br />The one man show has no finite end<br />And your dance is for survival<br />Then it is just me and you and<br />You and Me<br /><br />Suddenly you've forgotten the words to all your songs<br />But I remember and sing along<br />Your hands and feet and head and heart<br />Seem all in the wrong places<br />No matter how you move them<br /><br />.....(work in progress)<br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Right</span><br /></span><span style="font-size:100%;">The anticipation<br />Subtle glances and touches<br />Wondering if their meaning is mutual<br />Or merely a polite face<br /><br />And with one touch--prolonged--<br />All is answered<br />And all is right<br />For that fleeting moment<br /><br />Hands meet, then eyes, then lips<br />Faces close, breath in your ear<br />Hearing a smile with your eyes closed<br />Time and history do not interfere<br /><br />In this moment there are two--<br />People with racing hearts<br />Admiring each other's beauty<br />And tasting each other's lips, so sweet<br />In this moment there are just two, no more<br /><br />And you freeze this moment<br />And carry it with you<br />Into a complicated life<br />And a complicated world<br /><br />And this moment offers hope<br />Enough to to stretch across a wide span of valleys<br />A hope that knows sometimes things can be right<br /><br />That sometimes two is just enough.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Thinking</span><br />Anticipation is weighty<br />And a dream deferred even moreso<br />There is never rest from the "what if"<br /><br />When is it ok to trust?<br />And will there be someone to hold that trust<br />And consider it their honor?<br />What is that delicate balance between God and human?<br /><br />Is there always one who cares more--<br />Who is destined to be on the receiving end of hurt?<br /><br />Perhaps it is a calling<br />That beats you up in time<br />But somehow makes you stronger too.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><br /></span></span></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span></span></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span></span></span></span></div></div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-81911030353652079702010-02-12T00:59:00.003-05:002010-02-12T01:32:11.159-05:00Reality CheckTonight I went to go see "Up in the Air" with Kari and another friend. I was expecting a love story that left my heart feeling fluttery and hopeful. What I got was not that. What I got was (spoiler alert) George <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Clooney</span> showing up on her doorstep only to find out she's married with kids. Married with kids, people. I am now replaying the entire movie in my head in light of this bomb that was dropped at the end.<br /><br />After, I was naturally complaining about how the movie was depressing and sad. Kari said, "I liked it. It was real life." I then said something very mature along the lines of, "But I want the fairy tale, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">dammit</span>!" followed by lots of internal grumbling about real life and how movies are supposed to be an escape from that....blah blah blah.<br /><br />She's right (won't be the first time). It's real life. In real life, every guy you'd like to date usually finds a reason to flake. In real life, people marry (or don't marry) for the wrong reasons and fall out of love and feel stressed out by kids. In real life, the timing is usually all jacked up. One's staying, one's leaving. There are families involved and in-laws and personal baggage. In real life, sometimes people cheat.<br /><br />I came home to pack for a fun weekend in San Diego and found a billion e-mails from my boss about an event I'm planning, all just sitting there in my inbox waiting for when I get back. That is real life. Not San Diego, not the happy ending.<br /><br />Sometimes I'm not good at real life. I don't want to deal. Or I don't know how to deal, so I run away mentally, physically, whatever. Apparently this is the fatal flaw of my Pisces brand. I'm really good at larger than life, which I think is why people generally like me.<br /><br />I'm trying to get better at this real life thing: acknowledging it, stepping into it, messy-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">ing</span> myself with it. And maybe, just maybe, one day actually liking it.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-1952815117867135942010-01-08T01:00:00.002-05:002010-01-08T01:14:42.640-05:00DogtownI watched Lords of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Dogtown</span> tonight and it was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">bitchin</span>'. These skater boys didn't care much about anything else, and that's why they revolutionized the sport. <br /><br />I'm back to the grind after my lovely and lazy stay in Texas. NYC welcomed me back with a nasty cold (I think I'm on tissue box number 7). I'm trying to get all my personal business in order and do fun things before it's back to the school work grind in a few weeks. I feel like I should start writing about other stuff besides myself on this thing. More on that to come. <br /><br />So far, my new year's resolutions are to pray more and to complete some type of athletic event (i.e. half marathon). I feel like those are reasonable. Probably the first reasonable resolutions I've ever had. New York Road Runners e-mailed me today to politely explain that I had been denied entry to their half marathon. Only in New York City is there a lottery system to wake up on an early morning in March and run 13 miles. Gosh I love this city. <br /><br />I'm loving this schedule of only working 3 days a week. I could totally get into this lifestyle on a full time basis. It feel so much more peaceful and grounding. Surely stay at home <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">roommate</span> is a legit occupation...right?Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-23310473114216132132009-12-20T01:30:00.002-05:002009-12-20T01:53:56.113-05:00Re-ConnectingSometimes I act and feel like a robot. My life becomes one long list of papers to write and appointments to make and e-mails to respond to and people to call and bills to pay. I worship the god called Productivity, and it gets me no farther than the Joneses. What it gets me is anxiety and joylessness and a lack of connection to the parts of me that are creative and funny and personal and life-giving. <br /><br />Today I remembered that I like pop culture and funny people and writing. I've always loved to write. I remembered that I am human and an artist in my own way. With my words and my wit. And my love. I forget a lot--that I have my own things that make me...me. The robot spends far too much time modeling the success of others, trying to make it my own, when really it's not. The robot takes in and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">regurgitates</span> and often short circuits from sensory overload. <br /><br />I Google-stalked my new crush. He has articles and student reviews and fancy titles on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">internet</span>. I Google-stalked myself. I have a million other people with my same name. But we are not the same. It's easy to forget that we're not just a name in the sea of others. Not just one of many. <br /><br />I am Jennifer Nicole Petersen. I was the best reader in my kindergarten class. I am a smart ass. I'd have a hard time labeling all the states on a U.S. map. Today I had to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Wikipedia</span> "Scandinavia" to make sure I was clear as to what countries aforementioned crush was referring to in our conversation the other night. I use names of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">internet</span> search engines as verbs. I don't know shit about history, but I am smart. I know pretty much every word to The Lion King Soundtrack and my role models growing up were the members of The Babysitters Club. Yes, the book characters. <br /><br />Take that, Robot.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-55003157387672591482009-12-02T00:53:00.002-05:002009-12-02T01:21:03.671-05:00Chick Lit TheoryI'm so freakin' tired. But alas, I have made a pact to write, so write I must. <br /><br />The good thing about being ridiculously stressed out with school right now is that all of my classmates are in the same boat, and we all know that misery loves company. So today, for example, when I should have been reading about theories of substance abuse addiction, I actually had a 2 hour conversation in the library with some girls from my class about boys, of course. Because what topic could be more interesting than that? Let's see, we covered the basics of:<br /><br />- Dating in NYC<br />- Marriage<br />- <span style="font-style: italic;">The Rules</span>, which is apparently a life-changing book that I must read<br />- Learning that I already practice "The Rules" without even knowing itJenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-33373340759299966042009-11-17T21:34:00.004-05:002009-12-01T01:16:49.795-05:00ComebackI keep reading blogs, websites and other such interfaces that friends or quasi friends have created and, to be perfectly honest, I am jealous. I think, "Well, I could do that" or "I've always wanted to do that" or "I'm definitely funnier than she is." <br /><br />The deal is, these people are doing things. They are putting their prose out there and I, quite frankly, am not. Until now.<br /><br />I'm going to stop freaking whining about wanting to write and just do it already. Also, I need to start making some room for myself to figure things out and keep it real. Like the guts-inside-out kind of real. I have about 1.5 more years of grad student-dom and I will be trying to resolve some things in myself and the world that simply won't be put to rest by a glass of wine and episode of Glee after a long day.<br /><br />"Wherever you go, there you Are."<br /><br />Sometimes I think I can run from things--from feelings and parts of myself I'd rather not acknowledge, much less confront. Things I thought I would outgrow but have, in fact, lingered as unwelcome visitors. <br /><br />I seem to have a knack for turning potentially great experiences into burdensome ventures. Right now, I'm in an internship for school. It sounds great in theory. Work with parents in poor communities. Fight for education reform. Better our public schools. And, for some reason, I can't seem to connect with most of what I'm doing. Being hypercritical of everyone and everything certainly doesn't help matters. <br /><br />Trust me, there is <span style="font-weight: bold;">a lot</span> to flesh out with this, but sleep calls loudly right now. <br /><br />There's also a boy (there's always a boy). He dropped off the planet as of last week. Same song, different verse. What the hell is wrong with men? It's like they want to date a prop and not a real person. Heaven forbid we make them break a sweat to chase us. <br /><br />Ok, I will stop now. I promise. But those were some good lines.... <br /><br />I'm back.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-88446681462359642372009-09-18T18:50:00.002-04:002009-09-18T19:25:45.315-04:00Mid-life 20's?Starting new things is hard. I forgot about that. New school, new peers, new job, new co-workers. It's weird. It makes me realize how wonderful it is to have people who know and love me and who I can be totally free with. <br /><br />Starting new also makes me remember how scared I am of a lot of things and how impatient I can be with adjustment periods. I recently finished reading <span style="font-style: italic;">The Time Traveler's Wife</span> (which, by the way, was just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span>). Clare and Henry are about to get married so Henry's just tried out a new drug to help him stay in the present for their wedding. It's overkill and he's high on life. He asks Clare to join him and she says, "no" to which Henry replies, "You are so good. I shouldn't be trying to corrupt you." And then Clare says to him:<br /><br />"I'm not good. I'm afraid."<br /><br />I don't know why, but that resonated so much with me. <br />I remember at my interview for social work school they asked us about a regret that we had and I remember having a hard time coming up with an answer. And then it dawned on me that I regret not having more regrets aka not taking enough risks when I was younger and trying too hard to be perfect. Now I'm older and having to learn that, and it's hard. How do you set yourself up to mess up (and provide yourself grace when you do) when you've spent most of your life running from that very thing? I'm not so sure, but I did see a quote on my classmate's water bottle the other day that says, "Do 1 thing every day that makes you nervous." So I guess that's a start.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-16114267871546377622009-08-20T01:21:00.003-04:002009-08-20T01:40:01.482-04:00StaycationI've been relishing my post-work, pre-grad school days of freedom. Here's what I've been up to:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sunday</span><br />- Beach (Long Beach)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Monday</span><br />- Beach (Robert Moses)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tuesday</span><br />- Organizing and decorating the apt.<br />- Running<br />- Drinking wine and watching Mad Men<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Wednesday</span><br />- Lunch with Jessica from <a href="http://hfny.org/">Hope for New York</a><br />- Shopping<br />- <a href="chelsea%20market">Chelsea Market</a> for a cupcake at <a href="http://chelseamarket.com/amysbread/">Amy's Bread</a><br />- First visit to the <a href="http://www.thehighline.org/">High Line</a><br />- Dinner w/ Heather in Meatpacking<br />- Soaking up the view at the pier<br /><br />Such a hard life I lead :)Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-68616002514722793192009-05-13T13:52:00.004-04:002009-08-20T01:41:34.263-04:00A Biographical Vomit of SortsI just read this article in Relavant magazine about how wonderful your 30's are because you start to be treated like a legit adult and how confusing your 20's are because you're trying to figure yourself out and so on and so forth. I think he was basically saying not to sweat your 20's though he did state that a lot of the choices we make in our 20's can take us in radically different directions.<br /><br />I grew up in a Catholic family and went to more Christian summer camps than I can count when I was in middle school and high school. Something about those experiences spoke to me, and I wanted to be on the "right" path and be "on fire" for God, so I took to heart everything I learned at camp. I worshipped my counselors, my Christian coaches at school, my youth group leaders. I poured myself into church and mission trips and FCA and being a "leader for Christ". I joined a Christian sorority in college and a Christian organization that helps inner city kids and did Bible studies and devotions and listened to Christian music and wrote letters to family members encouraging them to walk on what I thought was the "straight and narrow."<br /><br />And under all of that I always craved an adventure. I was drawn to bohemians and new places and intruiged by alternative lifestyles. A group of my very best friends in high school were lesbians. I love them to death and they still teach me a lot though we're not as in touch. They jokingly called me "Jesus with a vagina", which, crude as it is, still makes me laugh.<br /><br />I spent a lot of my growing up trying so hard to be "good." Looking back, maybe some of that was an outlet for me because I always felt a bit insecure, about my height, my body, my acne. I was always friends with everyone in the cool group, but never felt quite cool enough myself to really own my place in their midst.<br /><br />And then I moved to New York and realized drinking is not of the devil, everyone and their mom is having sex, and most people don't really "do"' the church thing. Granted, I still poured myself into the church scene, and, for better or worse, that's where a lot of my good friends seem to derive from...and, of course, Texas.<br /><br />I have run the gamit of emotions about this change of pace and culture and lifestyle and ideology that I ebarked on almost 5 years ago. Sometimes grateful for my spiritual grounding, but a lot of times ashamed or embarrassd. Of what, I'm not so sure. Most of my spiritutal endeavors were self imposed, so it's not like I have an oppressive family to blame. I go in and out of wanting to do the church things. It constantly draws me back because there is something about radical grace and talk of Jesus that is alluring and some of the most counter cultural stuff I've ever heard. But then there is the church stuff that makes me want to run: the small groups, the lingo, the service. All of it makes me feel so freaking exhausted. And I think that's kind of what I used to feel like a lot, hopping from one do-gooder thing to the next, trying to live up to some kind of spirtual expectation I had of myself.<br /><br />I think right now I just need to start over. If church and churchy things seem a little too exhausting, then maybe that's just not where I need to be right now. I think I'm just going to sit down with a pastor and be like, "Here's the deal..." I just want to start over and figure some stuff out and learn how to own my past a bit more without feeling like I spent all those years wrapped up in Christian activities because I couldn't face the real world. I want to learn how to reconcile some radical committments I made in years past (absitinence, pro-life, Jesus being the only way) with reality. I want to know how one determines what they can truly stand firm on and move forward in that.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-91623530702459016172009-02-26T01:19:00.005-05:002009-08-20T01:42:38.314-04:00More of the Same of the Winter and SuchToday was a day of much waiting on trains and waiting on trains some more. I'm in official mourning for the existence of winter, particularly this winter. My nails are painted dark, I push snooze at least 5 times every morning, come straight home after work and am refusing to exercise until it's warm enough to run outside. It's felt freeing to resign to the reality that very few things are redeeming at this point in the year.<br /><br />I'm officially going to South America for 2 weeks in May, and I am so freakin' excited. My main mission will entail: 1) getting tan on the beaches of Rio and 2) finding myself a Latin lover to bring back as a souvenir. What can I say, I'm an ambitious gal.<br /><br />I've been trying to fight a disconnected feeling lately. Sometimes I feel like there is a deep, underlying resistance to my truly settling in this city. It's more the sense that I never feel completely "at home." I'll have these moments where I stop and think about how far away I am from where I grew up and my family and year-round warm weather and people who say "y'all" and people who care more about high school sports than politics. I worry that I hold back to0 much here and try so hard to exude a certain image that I've lost my own in the process. It's a legit fear, I think.<br /><br />There's this word that comes to mind a lot every since reading about it last year. It's a Hebrew word called "T'shuva", and it means both repentance and returning home (as in to old customs and values). The author Rob Bell talks about it as a call to be who we were created to be, our "first self" so to speak. I like that. I want that. I need that.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-84600224519431905002009-02-18T00:18:00.009-05:002009-08-07T02:16:37.116-04:00Orange Cats and Physics ProfsThis is my cat Rudy:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SZuadfMdCaI/AAAAAAAACCo/wAoau8WmTqk/s1600-h/IMG_2993.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SZuadfMdCaI/AAAAAAAACCo/wAoau8WmTqk/s200/IMG_2993.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304002817539508642" border="0" /></a><br />He is quite adorable. Maybe even the most adorable cat ever. But all that cuteness can be deceiving. Let's see, in the past day he has managed to de-thread my new rug, knock over my trash can and break the full length mirror in my bedroom. He is a little terrorist/con artist in the making. Who would expect such evil from a face like that? He was found in a dumpster in the Bronx (aww..can you believe that?), so I think the street cat Rudy has been comin' on full force..<br /><br />In other news, tonight I went to hear the author of this book speak at the <a href="http://www.tenement.org/">Tenement Museum</a>:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SZue645zgQI/AAAAAAAACCw/IAuUv6HxZ2U/s1600-h/Conley-Elsewhere-USA.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SZue645zgQI/AAAAAAAACCw/IAuUv6HxZ2U/s200/Conley-Elsewhere-USA.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304007720703328514" border="0" /></a><br />The subtitle reads:<br /><br />"How we got from the company man, family dinners and Affluent Society to the Home Office, BlackBerry Moms, and Economic Anxiety."<br /><br />So, being the Sociology major that I am, I naturally had to attend this event. That and the fact that my actual work very rarely requires that I think deeply about things I'm interested in...or really anything.<br /><br />I met a nice old man there named Bernie. He's a retired NYU physics professor and apparently had never made it down to the Lower East Side after all these years. He treated me to a cup of coffee afterward (think grandfather figure, not dirty old man) and we talked about the book event and his family and he gave me some good wisdom about grad schools. It was really refreshing.<br /><br />It is almost 1am, and I am going to hate myself in the morning. I pull this stunt pretty much every single night--promising that I'll make it to bed by 11, not following through and then wanting to kick mysel the next day at work. What's an inherent night owl to do?<br /><br />Truth be told, I like staying up late because this is when I start to feel most alive. I've always had issues with anxiety, particularly in the mornings. It's kind of like that nervous/stressed feeling you get before taking a big test or going on an interview--except I feel that every day. I don't know if that's normal. Not that I care a whole lot about being "normal" (whatever that is), it just might be nice to know that someone else gets what I'm talking about. Usually a couple hours into my work day it starts to fade. And it's good knowing it will fade, but it can also get kind of exhausting going through the same emotional routine every morning.<br /><br />I used to just pray that it would go away, and I wanted to just curl up in a ball until it did. But lately I've been trying to understand a bit more about what God has to say about weakness. Apparently, these sorts of things are actually strengths in His world. If only I could wrap my mind around that kind of truth. I'm trying...to learn how to look at my flaws, my burdens as gain, as acknowledgement that He is most strong when I am not. I look forward to keeping you posted on how that goes...<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-33729426028298091632009-02-17T00:53:00.002-05:002009-02-17T01:15:34.374-05:00Singin' the Wintertime BluesI'm in the middle of the cruelest winter since moving here 4 and a half years ago. It's dark and freezing and there's not even a place nearby to order takeout from. And did I mention I'm tired of my face hurting every time I walk to the subway? It's ridiculous feeling like a brisk 5 minute walk to the train requires full combat gear. <br /><br />It's not like I haven't been through this season before, and if there's one thing I've learned it's that there's no changing things. You just gotta grit your teeth, pray that it will be over soon, and hold on for dear life to the things that comfort and feel like home: food, friends, favorite bars, Gossip Girl, red wine, and boyfriend if you're lucky enough to have one during these harsh arctic months. <br /><br />At this point, I'd be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ok</span> with staying in my apartment by the heater (not that it actually works on regular basis) until the weather is at least a tolerable 53 degrees again. But alas, life must go on. It must be the weather that makes me so <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">freakin</span>' homesick this time of year. I remembered blogging about home a while back and, as irony would have it, I wrote that entry exactly 4 years ago to the date. Weird, right? I guess the winter funk is a legit thing: <a href="http://jennpete.blogspot.com/2005/02/home-field-advantage.html">Home Field Advantage</a><br /><br />Seriously though, this puffy down comforter is calling my name. If I'm lucky, it will be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">summer</span> when I wake up.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-72125536463330850462009-01-14T23:47:00.002-05:002009-01-15T01:31:41.693-05:00Filling UpMy group joined another group for Bible study tonight, and it was good. It's been a while since I truly studied the Bible. It reminded me of college. And for all of the time I spent in studies and small groups and ministries while in college, one would think I'd have a pretty sound knowledge of the Bible. The reality is quite the opposite. For some reason, it never stuck. Maybe because I just took what I wanted from it, whatever fit my emotional needs at the time. Maybe because I was afraid to ask questions and was more concerned about playing the part of this spiritually wise person who knew what I was talking about. Yeah--it was probably more that than anything. Lately, it's because I spend so much energy trying to figure out whether God is real or not that I never quite get to the other stuff. My thoughts just chase themselves around in a vicious questioning of faith leading to not much of anywhere except more discontentment, frustration and hostility. <br /><br />So tonight we read and studied a couple chapters of Ephesians. I've always liked the words of the Bible though I often don't grasp their meaning. Sometimes the verses are beautifully worded but seem to say a lot without saying anything at all. It's just difficult to put everything in context and get what the authors were trying to express. And it's also difficult to not just pick out parts that sound pretty and apply them to your life as feel-good phrases. <br /><br />Well, my "feel-good phrase" for the evening was in Chapter 2, verse 14 where it says, "For he himself [Christ] is our peace..." It hit home for me. Peace, fulfillment, contentment...all things I've been reflecting on and challenged with lately. I tend to run to things to feel validated, to make anxiety go away, to feel whole and needed: guys, work, having a full social calendar, being around lots of people, running in the mornings. All good things but all things that I know will ultimately still leave me with empty parts and unfulfilled longings. In church and all the "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Christiany</span>" things I did growing up, we were always told that Jesus is the one who fills us, gives us our identity, the ultimate healer and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">fulfiller</span> of our deepest desires. Of course I want that. Who wouldn't? But what does it mean? What does it mean to let Him be our peace and fill us and all of that? It seems so abstract. No one ever seemed to get to that part of the equation. They just stopped at Jesus saves. <br /><br />I guess I should just ask Him and see....Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-27921702862720629462009-01-12T00:03:00.003-05:002009-01-12T00:17:38.898-05:00Mud HoppersI just spent the last 3 hours working on social work school applications, and I still have this freak-out feeling in my chest. I'm overwhelmed, but at the same time there's some sort of peace buried beneath all of this anxiety and doubting and whatever other crap is jumbled together inside. <br /><br />The guy I've been dating a couple months broke it off yesterday. Which is fine. It was more mutual. For all of our points of connection, spiritually we just weren't headed down the same road. And the thing is, it's no one's fault. It just is. And it's hard to understand why God is real to some people and not to others. And how individuals can be so connected in vision but not in heart. It's just hard. So I'm going to have my brief pity party and move on. Because that's what you gotta do. <br /><br />For all the stress and emotion, I never imagined I'd actually get this far in the application process. I like to talk about and think about things a lot, and the panic of actually doing them is quite often paralyzing. Sometimes it makes no sense, but that is just my reality, and at some point I decided to pick one foot out of the mud and then the other and so on and so forth. And so I'm gonna keep <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">truckin'</span> on and writing about it and doing what I need to do to not stay stuck. Tomorrow is another day.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-41618871304137502422009-01-06T23:50:00.005-05:002009-01-07T00:20:02.636-05:00Keepin' it LightI think my blog entries are kind of depressing. Yikes--who knew I was such a Debby Downer?<br />In other news, what I should really be doing right now is working on my grad school essays, but I'm not. I'm procrastinating just like I did last night and the night before and the week before and...<br /><br />Who the hell wants to answer a questions like this:<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />"Discuss what makes a small group or team a successful community. Discuss a situation in which a small group or team you were a part of succeeded or failed and what significant learning you took away from the experience."</span><br />lame.<br />I think a successful team is full of sharing, caring, butterflies, roses, rainbows and cute puppies. One time this girl in my girl scout troupe beat me out as the top cookie seller. What I learned from this defeat is that kids should sell their own cookies and not mooch off their parents' professional connections.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"What are your short-term and long-term professional aspirations?"</span><br />My short term goal is to make it through the work day tomorrow without asking myself even once, "What am I doing here?"<br />Looking long-term, I would like to feel like I'm actually serving some sort of deeper purpose at least one day of the work week. I've also always been pretty proud of my stellar gift wrapping skills and have often dreamed of making it to the big time as a professional gift wrapper at Macy's, the mecca of retailers. As you can see, I am a pretty ambitious individual.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"What significant personal and/or professional factors have most informed your present outlook?"</span><br />Professionally, I have found the "real world" to be quite overrated which makes me the perfect candidate for grad school. On a more personal level, being introduced to mac & cheese at such a young age has proved to be a life changing event. It is probably the greatest food ever invented and my outlook on life indeed would not be as cheese-tastic without it.<br /><br />...and who says I'm not productive?Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-73445088249775580322008-10-30T00:07:00.002-04:002008-10-30T00:26:39.987-04:00To Be KnownWhen the going gets tough or sad or lonely or any sentiment in that general direction, why does my flight instinct always seem to trump the fight one? Sometimes I am just tired of being around people who don't understand me, who don't share my vision or even want to talk about theirs. Sometimes I am just tired and want to breathe and not to feel like showing my true colors is such a relentless upstream battle. Sometimes I just want to feel known more than the instant I come home at the end of every day. Sometimes I wish those around me would share my longing to be connected with them on the most human of levels. Sometimes I want to see with lenses of redemption to trump the stale and the cold. Sometimes I wish that every time and place was appropriate for depth to be revealed...and most times I wish for possessing no concept of appropriate. <br />Often I hope to be truly free.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-26117445342721005652008-10-27T00:29:00.002-04:002008-10-27T01:05:38.631-04:00Uncovering TruthSometimes I just get into these moods where I'm frustrated and hyper-critical about everything and nothing in particular. I've been on this kick lately about people acting fake. It's like I notice it in one person and all of a sudden the whole damn city seems full of phonies to me. Even at church. I take that back....most especially at church. The thing is, I do love people on an individual level. I mean, we're all human and we have pasts and cool stories of redemption and funny quirks and all that stuff. But sometimes in the collective, people just act straight up ridiculous and I just want to shake them and say, "cut the bullshit already!" <br /><br />And in New York especially I just feel like people can't relax. Everyone's got to put on their cool face and look sharp and speak intellectually and exude whatever it is they think they should be. It can be absolutely exhausting. <br /><br />Tonight at church, the sermon was about marriage and the man and woman's roles within that context, and I like what he had to say but at the same time felt a little bit discouraged. I don't think that very many people in this city have faith in marriage, and sometimes I'm not sure I do either. I mean, in theory I think I do. But I also think that people are inundated with so many bad messages about marriage (among other things), they're unable to wrap their minds around its goodness. I don't know why that makes me sad, but it does. People here are so hardened. Maybe everyone is, I just think it's here because this is where I happened to land when the scales of idealism finally fell from my eyes.Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-48372517587769323832008-10-11T13:43:00.005-04:002009-08-07T02:23:10.069-04:00BeingSo on Tuesday I called in sick (which I really was) and was a bit struck by the anxiety/guilt/whatever you wanna call it I felt at the prospect of having nothing to do. I logged into my work e-mail account only to quickly sign off upon realizing that the whole point of taking a sick day is to rest and not work. But what is it that 1.)makes us feel guilty for not being "productive"? and<br />2) causes anxiety and maybe even a slight loss of self when there is nothing to busy ourselves with? Is it an American thing? A human thing? A cultural/environmental thing? I'm not exactly sure, but it made me think of a couple books by Christian authors that I've read in the past few months. Here's what they had to say about this issue:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size:85%;">"There are many layers to the healing of the soul. One practice that has brought incredible healing is the taking of a Sabbath...I have learned the real issue behind the Sabbath isn't which day of the week it is but how we live all the time.<br /></span></div><span style="font-size:85%;">I decided to start taking one day a week to cease from work. And what I discovered is that I couldn't even do it at first.<br />I would go into a depression.<br />By the afternoon I would be so...low.<br />I realized that my life was all about keeping the adrenaline buzz going and that I was only really happy when I was going all the time. When I stopped to spend a day to remember that I am loved just because I exist, I found out how much of my efforts were about earning something I already have.<br />Sabbath is taking a day a week to remind myself that i did not make the world and that it will continue to exist without my efforts.<br />Sabbath is a day when my work is done, even if it isn't.<br />Sabbath is a day when my job is to enjoy. Period.<br />Sabbath is a day when I am fully available to myself and those I love most.<br />Sabbath is a day when I produce nothing.<br />Sabbath is a day when I remind myself that I am not a machine.<br />Sabbath is a day when at the end I say, "I didn't do anything today," and I don't add, "And I feel so guilty."<br />It is so hard to look deep inside yourself. My experience has been that very few people do the long, hard work of the soul.<br />- Rob Bell, <span style="font-style: italic;">Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"If I try to hold still, my soul reacts like a feather in the afternoon breeze, flitting from place to place <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">without</span> purpose or direction. Theologians refer to this condition as "ontological lightness," the reality that when I stop "doing" and simply listen to my heart, I am not anchored to anything substantive. I become aware that my very identity is synonymous with activity.<br />In order to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">learn</span> who we really are, we must have a place in our lives where we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">are</span> removed from the materialism, entertainment, diversion, and busyness that the Vanity Fair of our society and culture immerse us in. As we leave <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">these</span> less-wild lovers behind and enter into solitude and silence in our own desert place, the first thing we encounter is not rest, but fear, and a compulsion to return to activity. In <span style="font-style: italic;">The Ascent to Truth,</span> Thomas Merton says,<br />'We look for rest & if we find it, it becomes intolerable. Incapable of the divine activity which alone can satisfy...fallen man flings <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">himself</span> upon exterior things, not so much for their own sake as for the sake of agitation which keeps his spirit pleasantly numb...[The distraction] diverts us aside from the one thing that can help us to being our ascent to truth...the sense of our own emptiness.'<br />Brent Curtis & John Eldredge, </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The Sacred Romance</span><br /><br /></span>Today I've eaten breakfast with my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">roommate</span>, played with my cat, and talked politics and other things with my dad over the phone. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">It's</span> almost 3:00 on a Saturday afternoon, and I am still sitting in bed in my pajamas. It's a beautiful day, the sun is streaming through my windows and yet I don't feel in any sort of rush to be anywhere or do anything. That, my friends, is a Sabbath well spent. <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-72051223623689600602008-09-16T00:24:00.003-04:002008-09-16T01:19:17.293-04:00Stepping OutI recently settled upon the fact that I work for the weekends. And now I am coming to terms with the fact that the weekends are just too short of a thing to be working for. I'm torn between being unchallenged in my current role and being fearful of the stress that comes with added responsibilities. I've been down that road before, and it was too much and I quit. Something tells me it's time to stop being such a wuss and just trust that I won't fall apart at the prospect of a challenge. <div><br /></div><div>I've been reading <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My Sister's Keeper</span> (Jodi <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Picoult</span>) and found a bit of hope in these few lines of thought from a dad about his family's trials:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"It seems remarkable that while one of our daughters is leading us into a legal crisis, the other is in the throes of a medical one--but then again, we have known for quite some time that Kate's at the end stages of renal failure...it is Anna, this time, who's thrown us for a loop. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">And Yet--like always--you figure it out; you manage to deal with both. The human capacity for burden is like bamboo--far more flexible then you'd ever believe at first glance</span>."</span> </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it's time to step out and start thinking of myself more as bamboo rather than a fragile piece of porcelain or a twig that may snap in half at the slightest weight. Maybe it's time to trust something bigger than myself. </div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-47476298589348796332008-09-11T00:31:00.003-04:002008-09-11T00:56:56.874-04:00Happy AnniversaryToday marked my 4 year anniversary of making the big move from Texas to New York City. 4 years...who would have thought? Certainly not me. In celebration of this milestone, Kari and I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">trecked</span> to our old neighborhood (the East Village) to dine at <a href="http://www.sheckys.com/newyorkcity/search/sidewalk_cafe_1_1134.asp">Sidewalk Cafe</a> which was the very first place she took me to eat when I first moved here. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Awww</span>...how romantic (or something like that). I still remember what I ordered that long ago (a California burger) and what I was wearing (jeans and a sleeveless black shirt). I'm really good at taking mental snapshots wherever I am, though I do realize it's a bit freakish to remember what you or anyone else was wearing at some random event 10 years ago. My memory is a superpower, what can I say?<div><br /></div><div>Tonight was the first time either of us have gone back to the East Village since moving out last month. I love Brooklyn, but I must say we were both surprised by how much we miss the 'hood. But I guess it makes sense that if you park yourself somewhere for 4 years after making a dramatic move, it's bound to have some sticking power. It just becomes a part of you somehow. And that's good. Missing something is good because it means you invested. </div><div><br /></div><div>To finish our evening of celebrating city life we (naturally) watched a couple episodes of Sex & the City. All hype and touristy crap aside, Manhattan does have a sort of magic about it. I both love and hate it in the same breath. At lunch I ate on the roof deck of my office building where I could see the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty while downing my Cheetos and turkey sandwich. Indeed there is no other place like this on earth. f</div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-40709411796512613012008-09-08T01:34:00.002-04:002008-09-08T01:59:31.250-04:00ValueReflection is an art...that adds value--more like, extracts the value--from minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years and...a lifetime. I've delved into this art as of late and like what I am finding: connection. <div><br /></div><div>Mr. Buckley made us turn in a journal entry every single day for a semester in high school with our high point and low point. We hated him for it, but really loved him. He knew the value in the art...of reflection. </div><div><br /></div><div>I think that my grandpa may be dying, but I don't know what I feel or if he is really dying. Disconnected because I'm not there and unsure of the closeness of our relationship and unable to deal with the inability of that side of the family to confront these sorts of matters. I need to reach him in my own way. I'm just not sure what that is. I need to think.</div><div><br /></div><div>My best friend told me today that I won't find a man in New York. She was halfway sarcastic seeing as those statements are part of her ploy to get me back to Texas. But it might be kind of true. I mean, there's gotta be someone I'm into who's not off the market already. I fear my "type" may not be a breed that flourishes in the big apple. Not really sure where that leaves me (besides single). </div><div><br /></div><div>I walked 8 miles today exploring Brooklyn. My feet hurt. </div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-28950002541377001382008-09-02T23:56:00.002-04:002008-09-03T00:18:26.165-04:00PlaygroundTonight my roomate Josh and I took a late night walk to drop Moni off at the train and do a bit of exploring in the 'hood. We ended up at the playground by my apartment, and for a second I felt like a kid again climbing the monkey bars, going down the slide and attempting (in vain) to do a chin-up. I always freakin' hated in middle school when chin ups were part of the physical education test. Umm, hello...some of us have giraffe length arms and have a longer distance to hoist ourselves. But whatever--I'm over it. <div><br /></div><div>Anyways, now I'm all excited about this park because it has a basketball court. Not that I'm a hardcore street baller or anything, but it'd be nice to get out a shoot a few hoops for old times sake. I think I'll go buy a basketball after work tomorrow. I love living in Brooklyn cuz it's kinda suburban (for New York, that is) and kinda city. It's just nice to have space and simple luxuries like a grill and a linen closet. I've been breathing so much easier this past month. I don't think I fully realized how uptight I've felt the past four years until I moved. 4 years of not feeling relaxed--that is somethin' else. People here are just normal folk, ya know. They grew up here and don't care so much about being in any kind of scene besides whatever action is going on over at the neighbors stoop. I dig that--just normal stoop folk doin' their normal everyday thing. I dig feeling more relaxed and being a little bit of a kid again. Yeah, Brooklyn is a good new era. </div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-77955190313359439892008-09-02T01:24:00.010-04:002008-09-02T01:57:42.490-04:00Happenings<div>Hmmm...lots to say but nothing to write. This is where I went this weekend:</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SLzQ_olwg_I/AAAAAAAAA80/_DN7iY6Cp1A/s200/IMG_2787.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241293857998537714" /><br /></div><div>Montauk=my happy place. It is beautiful and tranquil and one of the most healing places I know.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SLzPzQ0WxrI/AAAAAAAAA8s/0R8lQU3t_Fw/s1600-h/IMG_2796.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span><span><span><span>This is my new haircut</span></span></span></span>:</span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SLzPzQ0WxrI/AAAAAAAAA8s/0R8lQU3t_Fw/s200/IMG_2796.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241292545947256498" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I dig it. Hope you do too. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And this is my new neighborhood. More specifically, the annual West Indie Day Parade that went down today right on my block. Jerk Chicken & Meat Patties anyone?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SLzSip9uodI/AAAAAAAAA88/nOrGLbeSS6U/s200/IMG_2801.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241295559174562258" style="cursor: pointer; " /> <img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SLzSizbTE3I/AAAAAAAAA9E/kOUgH_DOwrI/s200/IMG_2804.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241295561714504562" style="cursor: pointer; " /> <img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pDnEVpx3fiQ/SLzT1WRuJII/AAAAAAAAA9M/mSgXqO3mdOU/s200/IMG_2807.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241296979818849410" style="cursor: pointer; " /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">These are the things I'd rather be doing tomorrow than work:</div><div style="text-align: left;">- laundry</div><div style="text-align: left;">- going back to Montauk</div><div style="text-align: left;">- decorating my apartment</div><div style="text-align: left;">- escaping reality</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And on that note...my life in pictures shall be continued on another day. Whoever is still reading this, please drop me a line. I miss you!</div>Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8675422.post-14359961684264545592008-06-29T23:55:00.004-04:002008-06-30T00:12:20.821-04:00Sacred"Religion is not primarily about God, but about the human need for the sacred...moments that stand outside time, in which the loneliness and anxiety of the human individual is confronted and overcome through immersion in the group." <br /><br />- Roger ScrutonJenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09997066212661067233noreply@blogger.com0