squishisms.com

W is for Wicked.

On our Wedding Website I said:

Courtni is Amanda’s Soul Sister.  Her words, her inspiration, her attitude and her unconditional love and support were crucial to Amanda becoming the woman that Robbie fell in love with.  The wedding would not be complete without her.

That is not an exaggeration.  When I first ‘met’ WickedGame – I was intimidated beyond belief.  I had never cared for or about blog-ratings or the myspace ‘elite’ as I thought of them – and she, at least in my eyes, was one of the Elite…but I desperately wanted to know this Woman Whose Words echoed my soul.  More than just Wanting to know her, I Wanted…Needed…her to know ME.  I stalked her blog for months before leaving my first comment.  I almost cried the first time she commented on mine – I felt like I’d won an award.

Wicked is a Writer.  The undiscovered/unacknowledged 10^th World Wonder.  Untempered honesty Winds its Way through every Word she speaks, pens, or types.  More than anyone else I know – Courtni owns Who and What she is.  Completely and Without an ounce of shame.  I have never seen her pull a punch.  And so, when she accepted me – I knew it was real.  When she complimented my Writing – I knew it was real.  She played a big part in my acceptance of my Self.  She exudes strength and Wisdom, and I soaked it up.

And, for the first time in my life, I found myself truly interested in watching a pregnancy progress.  Even being squicked out if I thought about it in terms of ME or MY LIFE… I found myself fascinated by her letters to her unborn daughter.  Teary eyed and full of Warm fuzzies.  It was the first glimpse I had into the soft, gooey WickedHeart beating beneath the hard {candy} shell she portrayed.  And yet, it was no less strong than that exterior.

I almost pee’d my pants when I learned she was going to be in Tennessee for Gigifest.  I was SOOO excited to be able to meet this amazing Woman…and then got tongue-tied when I finally did…and right about the time I started to realize she was human, and neither deserved, nor wanted the pedestal I’d placed her on – and relax – I got the flu.

In the months following got to know Courtni all over again.  Without the idolization, as an equal – a sister.  I stopped feeling like the lost little loser tagging along with the cool kids and realized the cool kids thought I was cool.  I stopped trying and started BEING.  It was a flipped switch, not a process.  An epiphany fueled by the knowledge that Women such as Courtni liked me. Me.  Singing badly at the top of my lungs at two in the morning in the kitchen, wearing pajama pants and a lime green bra that had seen better days – they liked me. Stressed up by superstition and in desperate need of a sports bar – they liked me. Sick as all hell, whiney, mopey and bitter at missing out on the festivities – they liked me.

And when the Frog turned out to be just a Frog, and not a Prince – they were there.  And as I came into my own, there were Wicked little text messages spurring me on.  Forcing me to think a little harder, dig a little deeper into the void known as my Self and KNOW.  And when I needed a new outlet, she got me a visa to thepqnation.

And when I met a man really Worth my time and effort…and when I fell in love with him…and when I got engaged to him– no one was happier for me than Courtni.  LittleMissWicked was happier to hear I found a love like this than I think my own mother was.  It made total sense to me to ask her to stand with me.  And the perfect way to express what (at the time) I had no Words for:  How much she meant to me.

(*ahem*  notgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacrynotgonnacry *ahem*)

So yes.  W is for Wicked.

Carry on.

When I started this, the plan was to take Christmas day off.  But I took yesterday off instead.  And it’s been a day.  An introspective, intraverted sorta day.  I spent the day with the boys, and spent some time in the back seat with the music up – so while they chatted up front, I thought.  I reflected.  I remembered.

I can trace most of the things I am most grateful for to a Single, Stolen Sentence.  And since it is Stolen, I am less willing to go back through blogs on TheSiteThatWontBeMentioned and search for where I found it…when I Stole it.  I know it’s been at least four years… I think?  Three maybe?  Aw hell, no I *have* to go look.

On May 30, 2006, I read a blog that forever changed my life.  I didn’t know the woman who wrote it.  She had never seen my name or face or profile before.  I didn’t even realize at the time how profound the impact of that blog would be.  That it would become MY Truth as well.   My mantra.  The foundation of my being.  I didn’t even know the woman’s real name – she was simply known – at that time – as BurstMyBubble. We later came to call her Gigi, and finally, years later, I embraced my friend Carol in real life.

She titled the blog Seek Sunshine.

When Robbie met Carol this last summer, there was a (possibly drunken) moment when he admitted that he’d never let his walls down until he met me.  I had to respond truthfully and say that mine came down when I ‘met’ Carol.  I only recently realized it could be traced to that specific moment, that specific blog.

Seek Sunshine came from the mouth of a babe.  A toddler.  Carol’s little boy.  She Shared that Story with the world.  That personal, deeply emotional prose, with the world.  And in doing so, set in motion a chain of thinking, of events in MY life that ultimately lead to here.  It started me down the path where I embraced my Strength rather than revile it.  It helped me to feel Secure in Severing toxic ties that were keeping me Stagnant.

Seek Sunshine.

In a nutshell, it is exactly what it seems to be.  The knowledge that the Sun is right behind the biggest blackest cloud in your Sky.  Still there.  Still existing, just out of Sight.  Even on the coldest days.  When you are tired and sad and alone and heartbroken – the Sun is coming back.  Always and forever.  Push through the dark, the pain and sadness and you will find it.

Taking it further, because that’s what I do, it meant to cut away anything choking out the Sunshine.  It meant weeding the garden of my life…  I am only now beginning to realize how much beauty and happiness has replaced what I weeded away.  How much room I made in my Soul for MORE Sunshine.

EVERYTHING else I have now – literally – would not be here if it weren’t for that one Stolen Sentence.  I don’t know why it was this phrase that hit me so hard.  I spent YEARS being told “Seek and Ye Shall find” and “This, too, Shall pass.”  The lesson is the same, only combined and Simplified.   Everything you need in life, rolled in to one Simple, Stolen Sentence.

Seek Sunshine…

…in yourself.

…in life.

…in YOUR life.

…in others.

…in spite of everything.

…TO spite everything.

…in everything, all the time.

And so today was not about Sex.  Or School.  Or Sleeping in.  or Snakes.  or Sterling Silver.  or Saturdays.

And remembering, realizing and publishing the impact Seek Sunshine has had – has made today the best Christmas I could ask for.

…is for Kisses. Get your mind out of the gutter. I said Kisses not foreplay or making-out. Just simple, Kind Kisses. I LOVE Kisses. They are not implicitly sexual to me. In Squishtopia, Kisses are chaste. Kisses are platonic. They CAN be sexual, but typically – aren’t for me. Kisses are demonstrative affection. Loving Out Loud. The simple act of placing one’s lips to another person’s forehead. Or cheek. Or lips. Kisses from a friend. From Robbie. From my puppy. Puppy kisses may get their own blog I love them so much. If you aren’t aware, Bauer was being beaten by the previous owners, and was afraid to do anything – ESPECIALLY lick a person. His Kisses mean the world to me. They mean he trusts me. They mean he is starting to feel safe in our home. In addition to being happy to see me and/or concerned for my emotional state. And despite giving up Kissing my girlfriends this last year, I have had no lack of Kisses. I would almost say that in the last year I have had more Kisses than any other single year, or possibly even two, ever in my life. I am blessed with Kisses.

And I almost forgot Karaoke. I don’t get to go very often anymore. And, to be honest, it’s not the same fun that it once was… but it’s still there. Still exactly the same as it was five years ago when I started going. Oh, the TVs are bigger and the Karaoke itself is all digitized now…but the atmosphere is the same. It’s a tiny little place packed to the brim with “WeDon’tGiveAFuck.” So many things, so many people in my life have changed in the last few years. They’ve started having to care about being at the “Right” bar with the “Right” people in the “Right” atmosphere and wearing the “Right” clothes… and maybe it’s because I am still a peon…maybe it’s because, at heart, I really am just a little on the trashy side… but I haven’t made that transition. I cannot play the Kissass game. I’m bad at it. It makes my head hurt. To be blunt, it disgusts me. And I hate myself every second that I am attempting to play it. Karaoke is my refuge. My sanity. It is raw and gritty and ugly and offkey and unashamed of any of it. I can go in a party dress or a Tshirt and jeans and be equally accepted the moment I walk in the door. And I will always appreciate and be grateful for that.

I was supposed to write this yesterday. The obvious choice, however; leaves a bad taste in my mouth….and that’s sad. And it makes me sad. Which is counterproductive to inducing feelings of gratefulness.

I understand that they don’t own Joy. I understand, on a certain level, that it is not something any one person, being, or entity can claim. But, the connotation for the word Joy, for me, now is something ugly and spiteful. And while, in some ways, I am grateful that the events of June and July strengthened some bonds – I mourn the loss of those that didn’t survive the explosion.

They taught me that there is no Joy without honesty. Without accountability or an open mind. And in the last twenty four hours, sitting on this blog, this letter… knowing I couldn’t be True to Me and ignore the letter J and it’s obvious choice of word… I remembered that Joy is a Journey.

And every Journey has a beginning. My beginning was Seeking Sunshine. My Joy, my Journey, started, and will end, with Sunshine. Period. That’s a whole other blog though…for a later date.

And I am grateful for the Journey. And Journey too, but that’s beside the point.

The other obvious choice… is my past. Jordan. I’ve thought a lot about this name lately. Part of the planning a wedding thing, I suppose. I will be taking Robbie’s name – once he gets it changed. It is important to him to have his Grandfather’s name, and it is important to me to have Robbie’s last name. Family is more than a name, but I want that tie between us – for many reasons. This, by necessity, equates to losing my maiden name. My Dad’s name. My family’s name. My name.

I’m not big into the whole “family” thing. I don’t know if it’s from growing up apart from them, or just a random quirk…but I’ve never really got it. My Dad’s side of the family, especially, has not been a big part of my life. I probably wouldn’t know one of those relatives if you stood him/her in front of me, and they wouldn’t know me.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my family. My parents and sisters. I do. Very much. Despite their quirks and follies and because they put up with mine, and have for nearly thirty years now. Their choices and decisions have impacted who I am every bit as much as my own. They helped make me, helped prepare me for this Journey. They are part of me. I am a Jordan. And I am grateful that I am a Jordan. And when I change my name, I’ll be keeping that part of me, as my middle name.

I am also grateful for jalapenos, Jack Daniel’s, Jewelry, and my Job.