I love Marc Broussard

Cast my eyes towards the sky
Looking down on me
So far all I've seen are clouds
But I'm not gonna let 'em get me down

No way
No how
Not ever
Not now

There's gotta be more here
Than what I see

Walking down the road again
One step at a time
So far all I've seen are stop signs
But I'm not gonna let 'em get me this time

My life
Keep my head high

There's gotta be more here
Than what I see

Are those the clouds of my mind that hide the stars
Will I ever find the road that leads me home again
Does it seem so far
From looking way too hard
Now I know my heart is where my searching all begins

High low is where I stand
Looking for the man in charge

I belive there's more to see
Cause the dirt has been wiped away from my eyes and
I know what I'm supposed to be
There's got to be more
There's got to be more

Learning to float

I have been swimming once before. I almost drowned. For years the water filled up my lungs and I was barely breathing. Each breath got harder and harder to take and each step felt heavier because I was beginning to fill up with water. I didn't feel as if there was a way out. Those around me saw me sinking, but no one could pull me out because I was letting it happen. I wanted to be in the pool of love so badly that even though I knew I would drown before I got in I dove anyway. Head first. I got knocked out when I hit the bottom and I never came back up.

Four years later I was pulled out, and I vowed never to swim again. This is a weird thing. You give your life to someone, infront of God and family, you vow to remain with them forever, and here I was promising myself I was never going to do that to myself again.

I have spent two years pushing away every man who has tried to get close to me. Maybe they weren't right, maybe it was me, whatever the reason, I haven't attempted to get close to the water. It terrifies me. I think about it and I shut off.

Today, I find myself in a new place for the first time. I think this place scares me even more. I find myself wanting to swim. I don't know what to do with this new realization that I am willing to try to get wet again. I find myself being willing to want to be with someone, wanting to have someone in my arms at night, and there when I wake up in the morning. That scares me, because I have not been willing to want. When you want, you get hurt. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to be let down, I don't want the weight of drowning to pull me under. For the first time in a long time I have hope that there may be someone out there. Michael Buble says, "I just haven't met you yet" I am willing to believe that it hasn't gone right for me because I haven't found the right one yet, but that when I do they will help me walk into the water carefully and to help me learn how to float......

Sleep Deprived

Have you ever been so past the point of tired that everything makes you want to cry? Like you become completely irrational and emotional and you just want to cry. Just a little bit. Maybe for no reason, maybe they put 4 cucumbers on your sandwich at Subway and you don't like the number 4 and it has upset you. Maybe you think you messed up something. Whatever it is, your tired and sleepy and need a nap or something because really, you're eyes are either going to close in 5 minutes or start to leak....like a fountain.

Ahhh, I'm alone for a week while my roomies are in Jamaica

And by roomies I of course mean my parents =)

So, as they are preparing to leave for a week in Jamaica for my cousins wedding (ya, I couldn't afford to go, don't get me started, I sssooooooo want to be there, I mean caugh of the dough mom and dad and take me and sister with you! haha) we are going over the "What not to do while we are gone list" and also the "Please remember to do this list" Mind you, I am almost 30 years old, I have lived on my own since I was 18 until this little stay at home and get a savings thing started a few months ago, so I am perfectly capable of running a household (did someone say PARTY AT MY HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Anyway, the lists, feed the cat, get the mail, take out the garbage on Friday, blah blah blah.

Side note (that becomes very important). My room is hott. Like it totally deserves the extra T in the word because it gets Texas Whore House steamy in there. I don't know why, but it sucks. So for a while now I have needed a fan, but my daddy is....how shall we say.....less than handy? So, his brother was in town this weekend and yes, big brother put a ceiling fan in my room. And bad ass that he is, I got a remote and a dimmer switch so I can control it from my bed and make the lights any level I want and it is all fancy and nice and they can go real low and pretty and.... Ok, so here is the conversation

Daddy: So, Jenna, you know how the fan works, you got it all down?

Me: Yes dad, I am capable, thanks.

Daddy: And you got the rules for while we are gone?

Me: Again, yes, got it, Check!

Daddy: No boys in the house either, promise?

Me: Then why the Hell did you just install mood lighting in my bedroom before you leave me alone for the week!?!?!?!

Daddy:.........

Mom (from the other room): Jenna, ........, I.......

Me: haha, just saying

Daddy: What did I raise?

Me: You want me to answer that?

Daddy: Better not, just behave.

Me: *Big smile*


---Conversations that are funny when had with your parents. I love freaking them out, they are easy targets =)

I am pretty sure they lace Trefoils with Crack

You know those Girls Scouts. Those poor little girls get sucked into a system with a hidden agenda. Get people hooked on cookies. They put these innocent looking girls on street corners wearing nothing but their sashes (with badges of course....show what your good at) to sell cookies laced with drugs. Men come alone and are like, "Well, hmmm, I gotta support the local economy, my wife will like some cookies." So he buys a few boxes unknowingly providing her with a drug that she will then crave beyond control.

Yes, this happened to me. I came home the other day to see the blue box of Trefoils in my pantry. Although in my case seeing as how I am single and living at home (as we have already assessed previously, I am a loser) my mom must have bought them. I closed the pantry door and walked away. Whew, so proud of me! That lasted all of 5 minutes. I went back, was like, I'll have just one. So 7 cookies later I went to bed. I got up the next morning, had 5 for breakfast, and went to work.

You might be thinking at this point that my mistake has already been made.

You would be wrong.

I got home from work and yelled at my mom. Told her that Trefoils must have crack in them because I have eaten half the box in less than 24 hours and I can't stop!!! I was going running (yes, I am still attempting to train for the half-marathon....although at my current cookie eating rate it is not looking good), and I wanted her to get rid of the box while I was gone. Get it out of the house, do something with it, anything, I didn't care, just rid me of my temptation. (Take note, this is where my mistake was made)

So I ran. I came home. I had some dinner. I was watching TV. I needed a snack. I went to the pantry.

WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY COOKIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MOM, WHERE ARE THE COOKIES (there is no swwearing at Pammy's)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????????????????????

Mom: I got rid of them. You told me to.

Me: And you took me seriously???? Are you nuts? I need them! Where did you put them? Are they downstairs? In your car? In the gargage? TELL ME!!!

Mom: Jenna, they aren't here. I got rid of them.

Tears, lots of irrational tears. There might have been some convulsing, I'm not sure.

The next day I can think of nothing but cracked out Chris Kattan dressed as a Girl Scout saying "Ya guuuuys want some coookiiiies???" It basically is killing me.

I get to my girls night with my friends, we are sitting chatting when one girl walks in and says that she brought desert for us. OMG, SHE BROUGHT TREFOILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I didn't want to outright look like a total junkie so I think I contained myself well. Only a little twitching.....and 7 cookies.

My friends may think I am crazy, but I got my fix. Those damn pushers....I mean girlscouts.

I wish I was taller, I wish I was a baller...

I wish I was a funny mom blog.

You know the one's. Like http://barefootfoodie.com or http://steammeupkid.blogspot.com/ Now those peeps are funny. I mean, who doesn't want to read about little boys teabagging the cat. Now that shit is funny.

I can't even write about all the stupid shit husbands do (and yes, we all know they are total dumb lazy asses sometimes) or the sweet things the do to make up for it. The stories I have include ridicuously awful and gross men getting my attention by blowing (yes, blowing) on my head while I am at the bar.

Let me tell you how this went. I am casually having a conversation with a friend of mine when I feel a gail force wind hit the back of my head. I turn around to see a shady man saying to me, "Oh, you are just as cute as I thought you would be." I try to be polite and say "Thank you" before turning around and looking totally freaked out. He then proceeds to talk to me and says, "I wanted to get your attention, but I thought interrupting you would be rude." And I say back (not so nicely anymore) "And you thought blowing on me was a better option???" He proceeded to not get the hint for quite a while until help had to step in and save me. (Which that in itself was HISTERICAL because another friend of mine not realizing she was loud because she had a few drink yelled to me---HELP IS ON THE WAY!!!---It was awesome. Well, we thought so, creeper thought it was rude.) Yes, this is what is out there for those who are single. Exciting, isn't it?

So ya, I wish I could be a funny mom blog. I'll think of something. I'm determined =)

Breathe

Its good to hear a voice that you miss...