OMFG

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

I ended up with a date for Valentine’s Day. Against the wish of every cell of my body.

Sigh. So I say to him, “Hey, I didn’t realize tomorrow night was Valentine’s Day.” I had postponed tonight’s plans so I could hang out with my grandmother. She’s starting to remember me.

He said, “What are you saying?”

“Um…well, uh, I just didn’t want you to think I was like, um-“

“Trying to get a night of Valentine’s sex?”

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to put it.” I was going to say, “trying to get a date for Valentine’s Day.” After all, I didn’t want a date for Valentine’s Day. It was an accident. Tuesday was my first free night, and I have a long history of flaking with this guy.

“Oh. Well, don’t worry! Dinner. That’s all. And we’re going dutch.”

“Okay. What are you doing here?”

“I was going to wait around and walk you to your car.”

Just when you think they’re no good! Almost all of them, anyway.

I deeply and completely love and accept myself

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

About an hour ago, I was a high strung rats’ nest of nerves. I saw my mother earlier today while in a similar condition, and she took the opportunity to impress on me once again a system she and my father and probably others call EFT. It involves saying “Even though [insert issue or deep seated resentment], I deeply and completely love and accept myself” over and over again while banging on different pressure points. They remind me that the sequence of pressure points forms a question mark–a handy, and, for me, personally relevant mnemonic.

I have a lot to deal with this week. (On Thursday I abandon my newly acquired practically full time job to sell sponges for nine days at a Home and Garden Show in Denver, Colorado.) And, I’ve been hearing about this miraculous technique for so long. Seriously. I’d confide about my relationship pains and all they’d pay me was a sidelong glance and, “If only you tried EFT.” Or I’d relate to them how so and so is stuck in rehab, and they’d remark on how much more effective rehab would be if it were to incorporate EFT.

So I incorporated EFT. I’d been harboring this deep resentment for myself every since I lost one of my favorite–and only!–pair of silver hoop earrings (they were the perfect weight!) while making out at the bar with total strangers!! Why oh why must I make out in bars and lose earrings?! I asked myself over and over again. After all, this wasn’t the first time such an incident has occurred. So I tried it, “Even though I lost one of my favorite silver hoop earrings while making out at a bar with strangers, I deeply and completely love and accept myself.” Over and over again as I banged against those pressure points.

And it worked!! Then I had a number of other issues to work on, and now I’m awfully sore. But that’s okay. It just gives me more to work on. “Even though I beat myself up letting go of my issues using the miraculous EFT technique, I still love and accept myself.”

It’s the easiest way to let go of addictions: Replace them with new, healthier ones.

By night

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

I dream of a second coat rack.

By day I dream of an innate ability to turn nothing to time, of ideals manifested in everyday life, of the world in which I not only meet, but exceed, each one of my and others’ standards.

In short, my virgo moon is killing me.

I did solve a six level Sodoku puzzle this week. That has to get me somewhere.

I used to really love to have imaginary conversations. It was a hobby.

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

I’d pretend my companion was some great love, and we were meeting years later in some NYC art gallery, remembering our forgotten love and reminiscing on those good times long ago. For years my companion was my high school crush. Ooh, how I loved him, that luscious blond hair and those sparkling blue eyes.

I haven’t had many imaginary conversations lately. Other than when I’ve worked myself into a senseless rage, I tend to be pretty distracted with work and life and all that bullshit.

So, tonight I’m half-drunk…or, maybe three-quarter’s drunk…and I’m sitting here: having a conversation with a picture. A color printer printed picture. It’s taped on my wall, and quite wrinkly. And quite cute. But I’m not only conversing with that picture. No, I’m dividing my audience between the one wrinkly print out and the other framed picture from years ago. And boy am I conversing. I’m really updating these pictures on all that fucking shit that went down this week, and beyond! This conversation is really hitting that deepest note that conversations so seldomly touch.

And that’s that. A good conversation with a photo or two. Good times, yo.

The nicest thing about being single* again…

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

…is being able to take my Daily Romantic Horoscope seriously. They really assume you’re on the prowl:

Dear Susie J.,
Here is your single’s love horoscope for Tuesday, January 24:
You have your pride, but you don’t need to go to any drastic measures to protect it. Drop the ego when it comes to dealing with potential love interests. The real, natural you is more than enough.

How true is that?!!

*Let’s qualify this as self-determinedly single. I’m jumping back on that no-commitment bandwagon. (A breathy, “WAIT FOR MEEEEEEEEEE!!!” with arms flailing.)

To My Gardener,

Posted on by Jennifer Heller

Okay, so technically you might be the landlord’s gardener. I hear you’re an eco-gardener. And I rather like that. In fact, I rather like you.

I’ve noticed you digging holes out in back of my house. I’ve noticed your big white truck filled with plant matter, and your beautiful brown curly hair that’s just a little too long in back.

You might remember me as the girl your dog attacked one morning. I was late for work. Again. And he wanted my toast. You were so sincerely apologetic, and he was so sweet.

I wonder, if you’re available, if I might buy you a drink?

Yours,
Susie J.