See Jane Sober

1.) I feel guilty for laughing my ass off at "Idiocracy". I laughed and laughed and laughed until I thought I was going to pee in my pants. Oh, how we howled. Purple rubber flacid phallics that smack windshields make me twitter.

2.) I was recently gifted some 'beach house' soap from www.sisteragnes.com - oh my dear lord, I think it has crack in it. It's a complete nostalgia smell - smells like sand, sunscreen, and reminds me of being on the beach in Florida with my dad and brother when I was itty bitty. I LOVES it. Buy some for yourself.

3.) I am 8 days a way from 6 MONTHS of sobriety. Seems like no time at all, now. I thought that I might like to have a glass of wine until I read the beginning of this blog. Yeah, I don't EVER want to feel like that, again.

4.) I bought my tickets today, HALLELUJAH! (and a light shone down from heaven). My last day of work will be a month from tomorrow.

5.) I need a new bike. I have to pedal twice as much because my bike keeps slipping out of first gear. Wah, poor me, I know. Yeah, if that's the worst of it, I need to "SHUT THE HELL UP!"

6.) I can't stop thinking about what I want to do when I go home!

a.) Get a manicure and pedicure/eyebrow wax - gimme a break, I look like Chewbacca, here.
b.) Eat at Guy's subs.
c.) Find some AWESOME workout videos.
d.) Buy supplies for my SUPER new TEACHING job!
e.) Buy some capri pants/long shorts.
f.) WORK OUT.
g.) DRIVE MY CAR - as in, Baby you can...
h.) Not worry about gossip.
i.) EAT VEGETABLES cheaply.
j.) Go somewhere and not know a single soul.

7.) I am still working on finding a new location, where the goblins cannot find me. It's ALL about the password protection, ain't it?

8.) That's what I told her! <--- That is my favorite way to insert my way into the conversation.

9.) Dear Little Miss Power Play. YOU FAILED. My butt was covered. In wool. And flame retardant pants. That is all.

Jane says: I am not your blowing wind, I am the lightning.

Yesterday, when I was talking to a friend, I told her that some people had found my blog. She asked me if it was my ex-husband. I was surprised she had asked that. 1.) We've been divorced over 6 years. 2.) Why the hell would he be looking for me? It seems my naivete is all encompassing, though. Just as I thought my redundant and simple little life would be boring to others, apparently it is GREAT fodder for gossip. And her comment sticks with me, like grit in my teeth, slightly irritating. Ooh, ooh look at me. I have problems and I admit to them and write about them on the internet! That makes me some kind of craaaaaazy bitch (you must do the accompanying hand wave here).

Everything is grit to me these days. I spoke to a friend about it the other night. We were carousing, and I thought about how small this place had gotten...that I have friends demanding that I be neither friends nor acquaintances with other people who I happen to like. The friend requesting my loyalty told me that if the situation were flipped, reversed, she would take my side, without me asking. But the point is. I didn't ask. I NEVER ask. There are plenty of people in the near vicinity who judge me, think they know me, and dislike me. That's fine. My point is that I don't ask my friends to make choices between MYSELF and ANOTHER. Sand in my teeth. Eyes. Ears. No matter how many times I submerge myself in the tranquil blue waters, it leaves a fine layer on my skin.

Another friend of mine, upon returning from her vacation and speaking to me for five minutes said, "You need a vacation." And I do. I am becoming increasingly negative. I feel that I'm losing my ability to keep things in perspective. THAT'S NOT ME! I want to shout, but for what? A coworker's boyfriend called me a troublemaker the other night. I sat there the whole time, smile pasted to my face, pretending that it didn't bother me. She admonished him, telling him not to be mean to me, but really, I wanted to be in a position to tell him to fuck off. Why I feel the need to sit there and smile idiotically while people unburden themselves of whatever ridiculous thoughts they have, knowing that it will hurt my friends and I, I don't know. I really can't say that I am enamored of that part of myself. I want to be super friend, with a big "SHUT THE HELL UP!" plastered across my chest.

Sometimes I feel like I'm looking through a pair of binoculars. The situation is either insanely close, or small and distant. But both are equally affecting. And the more I pretended that being a trouble maker didn't bother me, it did. Writing a blog doesn't make me a trouble maker. And I have tried so hard not to engage in the behaviors that did make me a trouble maker, but nobody sees it. I can't give voice to HOW MANY PEOPLE have asked me if I am the designated driver. I've been the designated driver for 6 months! I haven't been gyrating about on the dance floor or kissing my friends for 6 months! I have kept my opinions and my hands to myself for 6 months! And for what? And then I get mad that I care what people think anyway. I should be satisfied that Dick is happy. That my friends are happy. That they trust me. But there's always the grit. Itchy and stuck to my back, where I can't reach it.

I did not write entries with the intention of the community knowing my private thoughts about an individual who violated my sense of safety and family. But apparently I don't give off that air. Apparently I give off the air that I am silently analyzing and recording each situation so I can *HUMILIATE* you against your will, shallow and conniving bitch that I am.

Another friend the other day told me that he was amazed every time he walked outside. I want to feel like that.

Maybe you’re wondering where I went. Maybe you weren’t.

My blog was “discovered” by some people on the island, and passed around to some of the teachers who I am supposed to work with next year. Who are questioning, among other things, my language, my sanity, why I’m working with kids if I “hate them” and just me, in general.

I have to preface by saying that I don’t make any excuses for who I am. After I found out I was made public, I went back and read everything I wrote. I stand behind it 100%.

I AM honest.

I AM a 31 year-old female who quit drinking this year, who has made many mistakes, with a fondness for four letter words and strong language. And sarcasm. I like that, too.

I DO have strong opinions when it comes to what children should be exposed to, how they should conduct themselves, and what part ANY parents play in this. I make no apologies for this. I did not say anything about children that I haven’t said about my own two stepsons. I absolutely hold myself to the same standards that I hold other parents.

I REACT when people threaten, lie, or otherwise harm my family. It makes me upset when my loved ones are hurt or upset. I can say with certainty that I do not know any other people who would not give voice to the same feelings.

My writing was not for public consumption, which was precisely WHY it was not able to be reached by simply running a search for my name. It was not very well-hidden, however, and I was naïve to enjoy my relative and temporary obscurity.

I do not feel that my writing should be particularly interesting to other people. It is what rattles around in my head from time to time – the good, the bad, the heartbreak, the humor I find in day to day dealings. I seriously doubt that I expressed anything that has not been said on this island. My problem was that it was in writing. That you could refer back to it anytime you wanted. Your words, when you utter them (and I am sure you have), disappear - muddled by what people heard, what they remember, the weather. Any old thing. If that makes you a better person than me, so be it.

You CAN doubt me all that you want. My job performance next year, and it will be good, will speak for me.

If you feel some slight twinge of pride that I whitewashed my page, don’t. I’ll be around.