Life As an Afterschool Special

What in the world am I doing?

What am I doing?

In the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy lands her black and white house into a colorful Oz, her life is suddenly transformed in blinding Technicolor. I feel like I am stepping out of a black and white world for the first time, and in the blinding reds and blues and yellows and greens I don’t recognize things that have always been familiar. I feel lost.

It is as if one moment I knew exactly who I was, or at least who I pretended to be, and the next I looked at myself in the mirror and realized I have no idea who I am or what I am doing. The color is too much for me. I have no idea why I am on the path I am on, or where I am going, or even where I want to be.

I don’t know who I am.

When I was little we moved a lot. I went to several different schools, and with each move my mother would say “Jamie, this is a fresh start. No one knows who you are. No one knows anything about you. You can be whoever you want to be here. Its a fresh start”

There were many many good things that came of that. I am sociable. I am graceful. I am comfortable in almost any situation and around almost anyone. I learned that from moving, and from my mom. However, as an adult I have realized this philosophy makes me want to run away when things are hard. I am always looking for a clean slate, a fresh start, a “do-over” for my life. I have worked hard the past few years to establish friendships and connections and to fight the urge to run. I have commitment issues. I acknowledge this and I am working on it.

But I am also realizing that this “pep talk” heard over and over again in my childhood taught me that it was ok and even preferable to hide. To pretend. To see what people want me to be and then become that which they desire. I have never known who I was or been encouraged to find out. I have only played roles.

And I am so good at it. I am fun. I am funny. I am flirty. I tell an amazing story. I am loyal. I am compassionate. I am womanly. I am strong enough for people to admire me. I am needy enough for people to want to protect me. I am a little crazy at times and a handful, but in my experience, people like that. They expect that from me. They laugh and say “Oh its just Jamie” “Its another Jamie story” I am entertaining.

And it is exhausting. It is entirely exhausting to keep up with the Jamie I have created. I know that people who do not know me well look at me and think that I am out of control or laid back or free spirited. And there is some truth in that, but mostly, people think that because I want them to. People perceive me exactly how I want them too. I am very controlled in what I actually let people see.

And I am realizing that part of the reason for that is because I don’t know who I am. If you take away my audience, if you take away the supporting cast of characters in my life, I have no idea who I am. And the blinding technicolor of this realization is a bit much for me.

I work too many jobs. Partly because I buy too many shoes, but the bigger reason is that I don’t like downtime. My boss forced me to go home last week and I snuck into the office. I couldn’t just be still. I couldn’t just be. When you sit me alone on a room I panic, because I feel lost and alone. I don’t know who I am.

My goal is downsize, but I am terrified of letting go.

The black and white day I snuck into my office, after a few heart to hearts with close friends, I looked around and suddenly everything was in brilliant color. I saw myself and the choices I was making and was left asking myself what in the world I was doing.

I recently had the same same revelation about dating. The truth is I date. I date a lot. I go on first dates and second dates, and then I stop answering my phone or emailing or calling. I am not actually ready for a long term relationship even though I desperately want one, because I am not ready to be real. A part of me understands this, but a bigger part of me doesn’t know who I am, and thinks if I don’t have someone who tells me I am beautiful or desirable or love-able than I must not be. So I begin to feel insecure and flirt and get a phone number or place an ad just to see the response, and then I push everyone away again.

Its a terrible cycle, and I have woken up the past few days asking myself what I am doing. I am not sure I am ready to kiss dating goodbye… but I think I should. I really really think I should. I hate when people say they are “taking a break” from dating, but if I keep dating wrong men how I will I ever be ready for the right one? What is the point? How am I ever going to grow if I keep running back to what is safe? How will I ever find who I am if I always play the role that I think people want me to be? How can I find true self worth if I wont let go of control long enough to discover it?

It is one thing to hide when you don’t understand the truth, but when your world lights up and truth is revealed, how can you ever go back to black and white?

I am someplace I have never been. My life is in technicolor, and I am not in Kansas anymore.

I am dying. I am so itchy I want to die.

I don’t know if it is just the dry weather or the fact the the chlorine was too high in the pool or a mix of both but I am so so so so itchy and I have red bumps everywhere…

Seriously…. these are all taken from different body parts.

Anyone have any suggestions?

or are the leaves especially brilliant this year?

Fifteen favorite things about fall:

*The cool night air. I love sleeping under lots of blankets with the windows wide open. I love that the stars and the moon and everything feels so crisp and bright.

* Football games. I enjoy the sound of the crowds and the thrill of the game and losing yourself in the action. I like how it divides people and unites people and brings out loyalty.

* Being able to wear almost any shoe in your closet. Seriously. Sandals, Running Shoes, High Heels, Boots… everything works in the fall. How can you not love that?

* Hot Apple Cider and Chai Lattes on cold days. I love the smell, the taste, the warmth.

* New school supplies. I know I am adult and the sight of trapper keepers and unused notebooks shouldn’t excite me, but I love the beginning of the school year, when everything is fresh is new and possibilities seem endless.

* Bonfires. I love the smell. I love the contrast of the cool night air and the warm fire. I love toasting marshmallows and singing and cuddling up.

* The changing colors. Looking around and seeing God in nature.

* Jeans. Dressy jeans, messy jeans, jeans with holes in the knees. I love jeans in the fall.

* Halloween. Dressing up and carving pumpkins and passing out candy and remembering your inner child.

* Dinner Parties. Nothing like a good bottle of wine and a good group of friends on a cool day

* Fresh Corn on the Cob. I even eat it raw sometimes.

* Fall TV. New seasons and new shows.

* Candles. Being able to burn candles everywhere, and light them earlier because it gets darker sooner

* The stillness of the lake. The grayness of the water

*Hockey

I’m turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so
I’m turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I’m turning Japanese
I really think so

Turning Japanese by The Vapors

This is an actual song that I sing all the time and people think I made up. Granted, that may be because everything I ever sing in my too perky cheerleader voice sounds like I made it up. Don’t believe me, ask my friend Kim, or see me sing Rage Against the Machine in karaoke.

Point being, the song is real.

*Disclaimer*

What is not real is the scenario below. Although characters and places may seem actual any similarities to the below and any person, living or dead, is clearly a coincidence. This is not a Jamie story

Picture it… It is a dark and cloudy fall night. The wind is whipping through the trees, taking the remainder of the fall leaves with its powerful gusts. I clutch my coat tightly around my bare legs as I walk to my car after a late night reviewing a club. There is a chill in the air, and I cant help but think something ominous must be coming. As I turn into a deserted ally I hear footsteps behind me, my heartbeat quickens, I walk faster. The steps quicken behind me, I run, and just before the perp (clearly I watch a lot of cop shows) can reach out and grab me I turn and throw this (what do you carry it in?) over my head.

Brilliant! The song is real, but the coke machine is not.

Had you fooled didn’t it! What is it you may ask? According to my friend Scott that is the Japanese attempt at warding off muggers.

And I am thinking its kind of awesome.

In MMMP this week we talked about what superpower we would have if we could only use it when we were frustrated and angry. There were some great answers (google girl) but I said I wanted to be a transformer. shape shifter. whatever those geeky people are calling it these days.

No one will ever know. I can picture the mugger now “I was just chasing a girl, but she disappeared. But look at this refreshing coke machine wearing shoes. Foiled Again”

I wanted to be a transformer. Looks like I don’t have to wait, I am turning Japanese, and then I am turning into a coke machine.

Thomas Wade of Vassar, age 74, died Tuesday, October 16, 2007 at his home. Thomas was born September 19, 1933 in Detroit, the son of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas and Pauline (Paye) Wade. He and Nancy Chapman were united in marriage January 22, 1955 in Detroit.

Surviving are his wife Nancy Wade of Vassar, 10 Children, 27 grandchildren and 7 great-grandchildren, sisters Mary, Eleanor, and Paula and brother John.

That is my grandpa…. and I am both entirely saddened by the loss of such an amazing and loving man, and overjoyed that he is truly in heaven. The bible says to be absent from this body is to be present with the Lord, and I know that my Grandfather is smiling in heaven.

I wish I could explain his character to you… and how many lives he touched… but I will let my uncle, my mom, and mydad do that

May you all be as blessed as I have been by a man so good.

Tom Wade, the head of the family passed away Tuesday October 16th about 6:45 in the evening. A life of few regrets and hundreds of exciting moments. Although I knew him only 6 years, he did his best to fill me in with wit, stories, maps, pool advice, lawn mowing aid, tree trimming hints, and most of all with his reminiscing about the Detroit Edison days. A one of a kind story teller that always kept my interest till the end of each event. I was blest in that I got the honor of seeing him every week. It was hard to watch him come outside and pull nails during the pool removal project, but I knew that it got him outdoors and that was great for him. He was concerned that I would run over a nail with my mower and get a flat tire.
His passing was very sad for about an hour. Then as we wiped our tears and blew our noses, we started talking about the life of this fantastic family man. And yes, there was some song singing on the approach to the garage with an age-jumping combination of voices bellowing out while smilling ear to ear. We drank some beer and wine and saluted the owner of the reunion property.
Taps will be played at the gravesite with a 21 gun salute and flag presentation to the family.
Please help celebrate the life of Tom Wade with me.
Love to all
(Uncle) Charlie

Tom Wade was and always will be a man of strength and knowledge. He loved his wife, children and grandchildren deeply. It was an honor for me to have shared his last days and to witness his love. I will always think of him with much love and respect and a smile will appear just hearing his name.

His wish was to celebrate his life and that is what the family will do in the next coming days. We will celebrate his life and the gift for having him in ours.

Cathy (My mother)

Charlie, Cathy, - couldn’t have said it better myself. Dad was my example of what a son, a brother, a uncle, a husband, a dad, a co-worker, a Christian and a friend are all about. He was always giving (many times through the stories Charlie mentioned), always thanking God for what he had, and not asking for more. He was a friend and a mentor to me. He always greeted me with a hug, a kiss and a smile, something my family has carried on as a habit. For a guy that grew up without a dad, he over achieved what he lacked as a young man and not only was the father figure to his family, but his grandchildren as well. For allowing me to be a dad with a dad, I thanked him. I have no complaints about him or what he did for me. You couldn’t have written a better ending to the story of a man with a mission and passion to create the perfect family and bring together what he saw ripped apart as a child. He allowed us all to say good-bye and laugh with him one more time. Way to go pops, great job! I’ll miss you always and think of you often. We will carry on the legacy you nurtured and grew into the beautiful arrangement of color and love that it is today. Thank you (Dad) for the wisdom, support, guidance and reassurance that allowed me to become the man I am. Your love and devotion to this family will be greatly missed. To my mentor, my friend and my dad, THANKS ! Well done, well done. Bravo! Here’s to you. Cheers, Love - D@nny (my Father)

So hard for it honey…

Ok. I need to downsize my life. Starting with my work schedule. I seriously seriously need to get rid of a few jobs.

Like right now.

I have a two month contract (fifteen hours a week) writing reviews for an Internet site
I work twenty to twenty-five hours a week for Living Influence
I teach ten hours a week teaching for a swim school
I pick up a few shifts every month at Centerpoint Massage School
I teach a class at Curves one night a week for six week sessions
and I work about fifteen hours a week right now as Managing Editor for Shattered Glam.

On top of all that I also freelance and work on my own book.

Seriously.

I don’t even know how I function sometimes. The problem is all I do is work, but I actually really really really love all my jobs. So much so I have a really hard time saying no.

But I really need to start saying no.

After a post I made on the Rumor Forum, my friend Dawn sent me an IM saying that I handle feeling out of control the same way she does. Surprisingly for those of you who know me, she did not mean that we both say that we are fine until we believe it, then have a few big girl drinks and a piece of dark chocolate and find a man to flirt with until we feel better.

I have grown.

Now, I cook. I clean. I know.

This weekend, after feeling like all things in life we out of control, I cooked. I had my small group over on Sunday and made dinner for all 15 of them. I know! I had to make a ton of phone calls to figure out what I was doing, but I made tacos and burritos with both chicken and meat.

I had to call three people while at the grocery store before someone answered and told me how much meat you use to make tacos and burritos for 15 people. I had five pounds of meat, and a bag of chicken breast.

Then I realized I didn’t even know how to cook chicken without using a George Forman grill. So I made more phone calls. (Apparently you can use a skillet fry pan thing)

And then I made cupcakes! Which turned out really well, although I thought I could make them without a cupcake pan, and when informed by the people I had text and called that I indeed did need a cupcake pan and not just the paper cupcake holders, I had to go to Susie’s to borrow a pan.

But I cooked. And I did a good job. And cooking made me feel better.

Then I cleaned. A lot. I hate cleaning. I hate cleaning so much I have hired someone to clean my house before (although there is more to that story).

It started with feeling like everything was out of control and feeling like if there weren’t Subway wrappers on the floor of my car my life would be better. So I cleaned my car.

Next I cleaned my house. I scrubbed my floors. I dusted. I fluffed pillows. I rehung pictures.

After that I tackled my room. My room was a disaster zone, but I cleaned and dusted. It wasn’t even surface cleaning. I cleaned under my bed. I even cleaned out my makeup drawer.

But the most satisfying thing I did was clean out my closets and make sure all the hangers face the same way again and arrange my clothes by color. I went through clothes and shoes and accessories and then went to Plato’s closet and sold things I hadn’t worn in a while.

I felt better. I felt organized. And I am not saying I am fine and its easy and everything is perfect, but at this exact second, I am feeling a little less overwhelmed.

So, I think Dawn is right. Cleaning and cooking may be my new coping mechanism. Because I am pretty sure if I can control my closet, I can start to control my life.

How do you cope with feeling out of control?

(See how interactive I am trying to be)

He’s going the distance.
He’s going for speed.
She’s all alone, all alone in her time of need.

Because he’s racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He’s fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He’s going the distance.

Yeah!

~Cake

Can I just say that I have several friends who are training to run marathons, and I don’t get it. I mean I am totally proud of them, and I admire then for their tenacity, but really, I don’t get it.

How far is it? Like 26 miles? I have no desire to run 26 miles ever. I think if men with guns were chasing me and said if I stop running they would shoot me in the eye I would still make it maybe 10 miles before I would just go “To hell with it, just shoot me and put me out of my misery”

My friend Christine was all geared up to run the Chicago Marathon this weekend. I instant messaged her this morning and asked how it went. She said the run got cancelled, so it was pretty disappointing.

Christine said 4 hours into the race they herded everyone back to Grant Park. Yes, after four straight hours of running. I don’t do anything for four straight hours, except maybe sleep. I don’t even like to drive for four hours.

At not point would I ever wake up and say, you know what would be fun today? What if instead of driving 30 minutes to work in Minnetonka, I just ran it instead.

But Christine is the type of girl who might say that. She is the type of girl who admitted she almost cried when her race was cancelled. Not tears of joy, which I would be crying if someone suddenly told me I didn’t have to run 26 miles. But tears of sadness. Apparently it was too hot and they ran out of water and people were passing out left and right. One person died, 49 were hospitalized, and thousands irate.

Irate because they couldn’t run 26 miles in hot weather where people were passing out left and right.

So again, I am totally proud of her (and Kathy and Ann and Gretchen) for working so hard… but I don’t get it.

Do you?

(back to the serious)

I am still overwhelmed. I am trying not to be, but I am. This post may go all over the place, but I am just trying to process.

Hello Everyone:

Thank you all for your phone calls and well wishes for Danny’s
Parents. I thought it would be easier to give you all an update at
once instead of making alot of phone calls and repeating myself so
here goes.

Last Saturday Danny’s mom was taken to the hospital with heart
problems. She was released from the hospital on Friday afternoon with
a diagnosis of severe heart problems, kidney problems and will be on
constant medication and oxygen until she passes. They figure she will
have a massive heart attack in the future but can’t tell them how long
that may be. She at this time requires 24 hour care.

Wednesday of the same week, Danny’s father collapsed and was brought
in by ambulance to the same hospital. Dan was there visiting his mom
and met his father in the emergency. He was admitted that day. He is
still in the hospital and is terminal. His prognosis is fatal with
lung disease. They can’t say if it’s going to be days, weeks or
months. The family is trying to get him home because that is what
Dan’s father and mother want but we can’t get him well enough to do
so. He was planning to go home today but had a set back and they
reinserted the IV and it looks like he won’t be able to go home before
Tuesday. He also will be on full oxygen needed 24 hour care when
they get him home.

So to summarize, a week ago everything was well and in a week both
parents went down at the same time and both are not doing well.
Danny’s is trying to keep it together and entire Wade family is
feeling like they just got hit across the head with a ball bat.

I will try to update you as much as possible if things change. It is
very humbling to see how quickly life can turn on a dime and the world
around you changes. Thanks for all your love and support to our
family and please keep Danny’s family in your prayers.

All our Love

Danny, Cathy, Jamie, Sara and Staci

That was an email my mother sent out regarding my grandparents health this week. Today she called and told me that they believe my grandmother may pass today or within days, and my grandfather will soon after. They are adament that they are going to go together. My grandparents are both at home, hospice has been called, and almost all their children (yes, all ten of them) are by their side, with the rest on the way. The children are staying strong because they know this what their parents want.

I am too, but I am so sad. I am so so so sad. I talked to my Dad on the phone, and I cried, and then he cried, which made me cry even more. It is hard when fathers cry. Even as a twenty eight year old woman, part of me still thinks fathers are supposed to be strong and brave all the time, and so it hurts when they are hurting, and its scary when they are scared.

I also got to talk to both my grandmother and my grandfather. They didn’t say much, but they told me they loved me and I said what I needed to.

For those of you who may be confused by my family tree, the Dad I am referring to is actually my step-dad, but he has been married to my mother and therefore been my father for practically my whole life. I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t my dad. I grew up with him. I adore him more than almost anyone else in the world. Between both of my fathers, I am defiantly a daddy’s girl.

The funny thing about my Dad, and in turn my grandparents, is they have never ever ever treated me any different than any of their other children or grandchildren.

(Great I am so sitting at work crying again)

But it is true. I have always just been theirs, and they have been mine.

I have countless memories of growing up and my grandmothers chocolate chip cookies and swimming in the pool with my grandpa and huge family dinners, and playing in the big sandbox with all the ants, (yeah ants, not aunts, there was a tree over the sandbox and ants used to always come down the tree and live in the sand) and family reunions.

Family reunions are my favorite.

Every single year, the first week of August, my whole family (all 10 aunts and uncles with their spouses and cousins etc etc) get together at my grandparents home in Michigan. They have a ton of land, and every year we camp far out in the woods on their property. My mom, being my mom, never brings a tent but rather a pop up trailer, 70’s style, that she decorates with astro turf and hanging baskets and pink flamingos.

But Sunday is my favorite day. We all get up early and get in our finest to go to Catholic Mass with my grandparents. The men wear ties and the girls wear dresses. We always sit up front and take up almost four pews. It just feels so much like… family. And then we go back to my Aunt Paula’s and make breakfast and sing old songs like 15 tons and dang me and pasty Cline and such…

That afternoon we have the official wade family reunion, and everyone is invited. I have brought friends and boyfriends and even my “other family” Some friends come every year. We all make a dish and there is so much food.

After lunch we have our annual Wade family softball game. My grandpa has a field in his back yard with a fence backstop and dirt infield and we have one of those old fashioned score boards where you hang the numbers…. My Dad and my Uncle Pete are always captains, my grandpa is always the ump. There is a trophy. All ages play. Afterwards we have a home run derby, and if you hit a ball over the pine trees (which now must be like over 50 ft high) you get to autograph the ball and put in in my grandmas china cabinet.

My grandparents started that. They brought us all together from wherever we were in life and even just for that week… we were family.

That is what I talked about with my grandparents today when I said goodbye. I told both my grandfather and my grandmother that every good and fantastic thing I know about commitment and love and life and faith and family I learned by watching them. That I learned and I am who I am in huge part because of who they are. That they raised amazing children and amazing grandchildren and they leave a legacy. And that I love them so so so much.

(Still crying)

My mother, again being my mother, put a positive spin on the whole thing. She talked about how both my grandparents and their children got to make amends for anything they needed to. They said what they needed to. She pointed out that we all got to say goodbye and we love them and they got to tell us back. She said all the children prayed the rosary with my grandma because that is what she wanted, and there is peace.

But the thing she said to me that stood out the most is that they are doing this together. That my grandpa is holding my grandmas hand and whispering to her, and that they still love each other and want to be together in this life and the next. They chose life together, and now, in many ways, they are choosing death together.

And for me, a girl who is on so many levels terrified of commitment and trust and love, that is an amazing testimony. My grandparents in death are teaching me what they did in life… that loyalty and family and love and commitment and faith are all we have.

It’s very notebook of them.

And I am still so sad for me and for my family and the loss we will feel, but I am at peace knowing that my grandparents know God and they know love, and we are all better because of that.

I love you guys.

(tears)

(Back to our regularly shallow scheduled program)

I said a boom chica boom. I said a boom chica rocka chicka rocka chica boom.

I love MMMP. I love the laughs. I love the deep questions and honest answers. I love that we always get to eat dinner together. I love our teeshirt ideas. I love our handshake. I really love the bling. But most of all I love Boomie.

Because our mascot is the shiznit.

MMMP