Do I have anything worth saying?

Will anybody care if I say it? Has somebody already said what I'm thinking? Has somebody already phrased it better/more cleverly/more succinctly/with more insight than I could? What if I offend someone? What if it's stupid? Would I be better off relegating myself to bed with my knitting needles and a few episodes of Mad Men?

I used to journal profusely. Daily, if not multiple times a day, documenting in painstaking detail the ups and downs of everything. (In middle and high school, the trend was lots of downs.) Journaling spilled over into letter-writing, with 10+ pen-pals over the years. I'm sure I over-shared, but who doesn't appreciate a ten-page (front AND back!) monstrosity stuffed into an envelope and decorated with enough Lisa Frank stickers to warrant an extra stamp and hand-cancellation?

Age and life experience solved most of my logorrhoea (look it up) issues. But it seems the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction. My journal entries are often dated 6 months apart. Blog entries are even sparser. I still write letters, but they usually fit on one solitary note card and are free of any Ballerina Bunnies or Panda Painters. The girl who used to dream of becoming a real-life bestselling author (I even wrote my own back cover flap blurb) has shelved that fantasy (pun intended). At the root lies the question in the title of this post, I think.

Aside from the Internet's usefulness in matters such as self-diagnosing your toenail fungus, finding the best parody videos of "Somebody That I Used to Know," and seeing pictures of the 5-course meal your sickeningly domestic homemaker friend just whipped up for dinner (via Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest), there is a constant barrage of everything from everyone.

Not gonna lie. It's a little overwhelming.

So when a thought runs through my head and I feel that familiar old itch to put it into words and share it, I start to second-guess myself. Who cares? It's just going to get lost in the interwebs, anyway.

This isn't always a bad thing. Honestly, I could stand to read less of people's daily play-by-plays, pointless bickering, griping, and political agendas. Filters are good. If I decide what I wanted to say is not especially insightful, informative, interesting, edifying, encouraging, or entertaining (or at all alliterate-able), typically it don't get said.

Sure, I've posted a bit of gripe on Facebook before. I've re-posted silly memes because they made me laugh. I've over-tweeted when I had one (or two) cups of coffee too many. I've checked in somewhere because I really wanted ALL THE PEOPLE to know that I'm there and BE IMPRESSED. Guilty.

But because it's so easy these days to over-share, I've become more wont to evaluate my words and their worth. I'm not judging anyone for what they post, or saying there's a right and wrong way to use your Facebook. ("I'm not saying it" being the key phrase there.) There is nothing wrong with sharing. However, I've learned a few things about what makes my journaling and posting valuable and meaningful to me. Maybe they will apply to you, too.

• Journal the positive things, because we don't remember them as easily.
• If journaling the really negative things is therapeutic, write your little heart out. But not in your journal, where re-reading these things can make you angry and bitter all over again. Or on Facebook, where they can burn bridges and make you look like a Debbie Downer. Use loose-leaf, then blast some Sleigh Bells or Linkin Park while you rip that sucker into pieces of confetti. Pray over it and let God work on any lingering hate or anger.
• Also journal/blog about the milestones, struggles, and failures, because people will celebrate with/encourage/inspire you, and you will want to look back and see how you've changed and how far you've come.
• Not everyone has to like or agree with what you say. That doesn't mean you shouldn't say it. Journals are good for this.
• The Internet is forever. Plan accordingly.
• If the stationery aisle still makes your heart beat faster, you were meant to write.

Repetitive Motion

No runner's high yet, but I'm making progress. And also gladly upping my cookie intake to counter my greater caloric consumption.

I just finished week 4 of the Couch to 5K plan. At first it seemed like the hardest. thing. ever. Run for 5 minutes at a time? Without stopping?! But I did it! For the first time I could see how far I've come in 4 weeks, and I was struck by the possibility that a 5K might, in fact, be humanly possible. I am undaunted by a broken pair of headphones, or puddles, or stray dogs, or leaf-blowers in my path. I look like a doofus, but I don't care. I'm living the dream, fool.

I'm gearing up for what looks to be a couple of weeks (at least) of absolutely no work. My industry is so heavily tied to the education sector that when school is out, most interpreters are twiddling their thumbs (or some equivalent which is less likely to cause a repetitive motion injury). If you could use an extra warm body to help with a project or childcare or cookie-eating over the holidays, I'm your gal.

I've also picked up my knitting needles for the first time in about 3 or 4 years. Like riding a bike, it came back to me pretty quickly (though I'm much more coordinated with needles than a bike). I was mainly inspired by my crocheting friends, and I had plenty of inspiration to begin a fairly ambitious project. (Next, I'm considering a his-and-hers set of footie pajamas.)

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

To be fair, I did give it a week. Two, in fact. I had my running shoes laced up 3 times a week at 6:30 in the morning (which seemed SO early... ha). The run/walk intervals were totally doable. "I'm a runner!"

And then 3 things happened in short succession:

Shin splints flared up

We had about 2 weeks notice to move

My job (and schedule) changed drastically

Don't worry, I have already labelled myself a whiny baby. Between resting up to prevent further injury, packing and moving, and getting ready for work at 5:30 am (out the door at 6:30, I laugh at my sleep-deprived self), I decided my delusions of grandiose running accomplishments would have to wait.

Despite the early mornings, I am completely in love with my job. Rather than arriving home mentally stressed, with no sense of accomplishment aside from making it through another day, wondering if I could scrounge up a bottle of wine, now I feel mentally challenged and a true sense of a job well done when I have a good day. Coffee has become my drink of choice, though in a way not by choice. :)

Amidst numerous changes, we're in a good place right now. The coffee probably helps! Maybe later we'll see what puzzle pieces God is putting together but for now we'll take it one day at a time. Sans running shoes.

Doing Things I Hate

I did 3 things today that I hate.

1. Ran
2. Went to work
3. Scooped litter boxes

I'm going to talk about the first one.

I tried running before. I think I even gave it a fair shot (read: a week). And I hate running. No, I hate running. Absolutely nothing appeals to me about waking up 20 minutes earlier than I have to, sweating til my clothes are soaked, and gasping for air when everything in me screams "SIT DOWN AND EAT COOKIES!"

But this morning, I tried once again to like it. I blame this latest attempt on a member of our Life Group who roped a few other girls into training for the Race for the Cure via the NHS Couch to 5K podcast. I could have been the lame-o and told her "Nope. I hate running." And left it at that. But I was slightly motivated by the prospect of connecting with these ladies in a new way, running (or ralking) a 5K together, and possibly getting cookies afterward (some of these girls love to bake). Plus there are free t-shirts. Quadruple win!

So today, I set my alarm 20 minutes early. I put on the podcast, and did a total of about 20 laps around my townhome complex. (I have GOT to find a more interesting place to do this.) I ran for a total of 8 minutes. And I thought to myself, "I can do this!"

Rather than making  a rash commitment I regret in a week, I decided to finish this week of training and then re-evaluate whether to register for this Race for the Cure. So this is me, publicly committing to make a commitment (one way or the other) in a week.

List of pros:

• my running shoes are rockstar cool
• I can buy cute running clothes
• exercise is good for you, I guess
• cool people are doing it with me
• the podcast lady has a cute British accent
• COOKIES

The endless stream of data...

Baby steps. We can do this!

Picking back up with this blogging thing, mayhaps. Went through a stage after getting married when life was so exhausting; it felt like there was no good time to sit and express myself. If there was, maybe I wasn't sure if the things I was thinking were worth recording, or if they leant themselves to any semblance of organization and coherence. And, after all, I was living life to the fullest and recording everything by camera... that counts for something, right?

My journal lay in its normal beside spot. I think I touched it twice during my first year as a newlywed. Looks like my blog has been ignored for longer. Hmm.

I finally realized, after re-reading parts of my journal, how important this is to me. I'm journaling again, usually first thing in the morning so I can be sure I don't put it off. And whether anybody reads it or not, I think I've learned a lot by blogging. I've become accustomed to bite-size feeds on Facebook, where I can catch up with everyone at a glance. I want to remember the joys of taking a few extra minutes to let people into my life for more than 2 seconds. And take part in other people's lives by reading their posts.

A lot has changed since I first started blogging. I went from LiveJournal to BloopDiary to Xanga to Blogger. I'm not the same. My thoughts and beliefs aren't the same. The world isn't the same. But it's great to be along for the ride! <3 J

Something Odd

So I want to blog about something funny that happened to me today.

We're visiting a life group in our church and today after service we chatted with one of the couples from our group, Brandon and Michelle.

Michelle asked how long we've been coming to the Vineyard, and our conversation went something like this:

"Well we started coming a few months before we got married, and we're coming up on our anniversary, so a little over a year now."

"Oh really? When's your anniversary?"

"May 24th."

"That's our anniversary too!"

"No way! What year did y'all get married?"

Brandon and Michelle were married on the very same day we were, though in Florida. What a coweenkydink. But wait, there's more...

I asked "Where did you guys go for your honeymoon?"

"Jamaica."

Yes, the very spot we chose for our own honeymoon, though we soon surmised that we'd stayed at different resorts.

And then, as I looked at the two of them standing together, I realized:

"Wait... I remember seeing you guys! In the airport! We were totally on the same plane to Jamaica."

I explained how I (strangely) remembered Brandon's distinct hat, and Michelle's dress. Our flight to Jamaica involved a connecting flight in Miami, where I first noticed the two of them, and later recognized them as I spotted them going through customs along with us. Somehow it didn't click til today that I've seen them somewhere before.

So there's my trippy little story for today. :)

Part 3

No, I did NOT forget that I so rudely left you hanging for much longer than was reasonable! I suppose a year and a half is quite long enough so today I present the third part of the "love story," as it's been called. Part four is in the works, as well, kids.

Now where did I leave off... oh yes, the part where a lovestruck Jason had just begun pursuing the woman of his dreams. (You are advised to re-read parts one and two if your memory needs refreshing.)

So onward.

Not surprisingly, Jason started showing up everywhere. Mostly wherever Jess was.

He was invited to celebrate a birthday with Matt's family on April 1st, and ironically posed for a picture with Matt and his future in-laws.

Matt later enjoyed ruining a picture with Jess and Becca (his wife). We really don't know.

Later that month Rebecca managed to snag discounted tickets to the International Festival, and the group made plans to attend together. It was a hot Saturday afternoon when the six of them (Rebecca and April and their husbands, plus Jessica and Jason) squeezed into a pickup truck and made their way downtown.

On the way they stopped at a gas station to fill up. The Jasons went into the convenience store for some snacks and April began a silly conversation inside the truck. Something about Jessica and Jason ending up together.

Jess laughed at the teasing but thought nothing of it until April began to pray:

"Dear God, please let Jason and Jessica get married."

Jess retaliated: "Dear God, please let April have triplets."

After finding parking downtown, nobody had a clue where to find the festival. Jess, however, knew to call her mother, who always knew where everything was. And at last they stumbled upon it, sprawled out in the middle of Houston in all its hot, sticky, crowded glory. It smelled like all the glorious foods one generally finds at a carnival and then some: funnel cake, roasted corn, hot dogs, some Asian-style meat on a stick (!) with peanut sauce, and so on. It was a jumble of colorful costumes and commercialized booths with something to sell and performers and spectators. They passed a karaoke booth and April was almost persuaded to show the current performer how it was done. They entered a drawing at another booth and were given red piggy key chains with some cryptic Chinese symbol in the middle.

The six-some soaked all of this up and then sat beside the wading pool with their fried and roasted treats to watch the ninja show. Yes, a ninja show.

Jason 2 made sure to sit next to Jessica. He threatened to push her into the pool, but as warm as Jessica was she preferred to stay dry and warned him that there would be consequences for such an action.

Some drunk guy didn't mind though, and decided to go splashing around in the pool before security managed to convince him to behave himself.

After the ninja show, everyone was ready to leave (but not before the girls could redeem their last food coupons for some pickles). It was still fairly early and someone suggested ice cream. And so that is the happy thing they pursued by driving to Piccomolo.

Then after a long day of international and local adventures, it was time to part ways.

Jess later discovered that the day at the international festival had been one of Jason's favorite times spent with her, and had only convinced him more that she was something special.

(But she already knew that.)