To be brilliant and light. like candlelight, like feathers.

There is very little that can be done for this sort of wound. There is time and that's about it. I have brought it on myself - this solitude. What has been made one, i have torn asunder. and i know it. and despite the words of encouragement from those who love me, i don't feel good about it. and i want to write and i want to share that it is necessary. it is hard. it is necessary. it is leaving egypt. it is giving up your wealth. it is conceding the loss. it is coming to terms.

a new year comes, and a period of my life is ending. reshaping. dying and being reborn out of the remnants of truth that can be found in its wake. i smile. i wave. i am being watched. i watch what i do, when i do it, as to avoid misinterpretations. they will watch their words. avoiding talks about love. happiness. am i shedding tears? do i even know what this is about? do i realize what i'm doing? i am a prop. i am a pawn. i am a cautionary tale. i am inconsequential. i am only a part of those statistics. i am fifty percent. the other fifty percent. it was to be expected. is it expected? did they see it coming? i have free will, but i am not good at controlling things. i know the routine. i know this play. i was in one like it not so long ago. how to hide your broken heart in three acts.

i know there is always hope. in the small and quiet things, often hope and truth are found. but for now i am sad. i am shadows. i am residual. i am contemplating. i am an island. i am that kid who lost his glasses, waiting for clarity.

daybreak will come, but if i miss it today, it always comes again tomorrow. today i will sleep. warm. safe. covered. tomorrow i will watch the sunrise.

Pharmacisting: For the Glory of Federally Sanctioned Drug Dealing

So I’ve been working in a pharmacy for about 5 years. I just sort of fell into my first pharmacy job. To be honest an old man pharmacist with a gold chain and unruly chest hair persuaded me to join the business. I was looking for a job sophomore year of college and I happened to walk into an Eckerd that happened to be looking to hire someone for the pharmacy and the managing sixty-year-old male pharmacist wearing the wranglers and a shirt that should have been closed one button more toward the top thought I would be fine filling medicine for the sick and the old even though I knew absolutely nothing at all about filling medications. But in spite of my lack of knowledge and Pharmacist Hairy Chest’s lack of good judgment, I didn’t kill anyone those first few months (as far as I know). Eventually, I did catch on and I passed some test to get my certification from whatever board certifies these kinds of things and now I kick ass at prescription filling. Seriously. I like to consider myself the Chuck Norris of Pharmacy Teching. Ha. No. Really.

Being a Certified Pharmacy Technician or Jessica Kelly, CPhT (my official title) has been a good experience. However, you don’t need a freakin’ BA to fill people’s medications and I happen to have one. In psychology. So obviously there’s not much of a connection between my job and those four years I spent in higher education. And so the time has come to move on from teching into the world of pharmacisting… pharmacistology? Whatever. I’m going there.

I devised this little plan when I was in that sweet car o’ mine driving from Idaho to Texas in a day. A solid twenty-four and a half quality hours with me (and my O magazine, Dave Eggers book, I-pod nano, Marlboro Lights, Starbucks coffee, Adderall, etc). But during that time I started thinking about the future and stuff. I hadn’t thought a whole lot about my next step professionally in about 4 months. It was on my list of things to do while I was in California, I just didn’t get around to doing it what with all the escapism and loving nature. So I’m somewhere in Oklahoma and I’m thinking that if I went back to school within the next year or so and went full time for like 3 or 4 years, I could be a pharmacist by the time I’m thirty. That means that I would have my doctorate in pharmacology and I could get a job anywhere I wanted in the US making pretty decent money. Then I thought about my alternative, which was being thirty and still being a pharmacy tech or something like it and not making half the money I could and pretty much wasting a 4-year degree. And I didn’t like the alternative.

So I picked pharmacy school. Now all I really need to do is decide when I want to start and get going.

Oh, and I need to take two semesters of organic chemistry before I can even apply.

Bollocks.

Very little is needed to make a happy life

11:29 PM CST, December 4, 2006:

In approximately half an hour I will be twenty-five. Woo. Hoo. Although I have celebrated many people’s 25th birthdays with them already, I have yet to celebrate my own and so I’m going to make a really big stinkin’ deal out of it (in my own subdued way). I am sitting in my house in my old room, listening to Billie Holiday on itunes, and I feel like being nostalgic for a few moments. Perhaps it’s because another birthday is about to come and go, or maybe it’s the music or the sitting in my old bedroom, or maybe it’s the prescription med I had a few minutes earlier… whatever the reason, I invite you to join me on a short jaunt through my memory, remembering some of my favorite birthdays over the last 25 years.

· 1984: I’m turning three. I have pigtails and am wearing a red and green plaid jumper because who doesn’t like to get dressed up on her birthday. I am at home surrounded by family and my mom brings out a Strawberry Shortcake big wheel. It’s awesome. I ride that thing all over the living room running into furniture and elderly relatives. All eyes are on me and I am queen on that big wheel. I believe the promise of birthday cake was the only thing that stopped me from riding it for the rest of the day.

· 1986: Turning five and it’s a classic Chuck E. Cheese birthday party with a whole bunch of kindergartners. I don’t really remember anything that happened, but it’s freakin’ Chuck E. Cheese’s, so of course it’s a good time. I’m sure I spend a lot of time playing skeeball and running around the oversized playground area that is later shut down for basically being a giant deathtrap for children under 42”.

· 1988: In my house the rule is when you turn seven you can start playing with Barbies and having slumber parties. So my 7th birthday is indeed a slumber party. Four other girls and me. We have homemade pizza courtesy of family friend Janet Luo and make ice cream sundays for dessert. I get my first two Barbie dolls. A seven-year-old girl’s dream come true.

· 1993: Twelve years old and my first co-ed birthday party at Big Wheel skating rink. I go to a small private school and I invite the whole sixth grade, so about 40 kids. When it’s time to eat cake, all the girls sit at one giant rectangular table and all the boys sit at another because in sixth grade at my small, Christian school if you talk to a boy, then you are either a “huge flirt” or you are “going out” with him. Yeah. We were not cool kids.

· 1994: Sweet! I am finally a teenager, which means I am allowed to get my ears pierced. After I get my ears pierced, I proceed to block out all the rest of my memories of junior high, thank god, because junior high is a thorn in the side of humanity that for some mysterious reason must be suffered through and should be forgotten as quickly as possible.

· 1997: Since I am turning sixteen, I am too cool to plan my own birthday party. So instead my mom plans my one-and-only surprise birthday party at the TGIFridays in the Ballpark in Arlington. She asks me in advance if I am too cool for a surprise birthday party. Although I am too cool to act like I actually want a surprise birthday party, the average sixteen-year-old girl that I am is thinking “Awesome! I’m getting a surprise birthday par-taaay!!” So it’s not actually a surprise but I act surprised anyway. I don’t get a car that day or anything shnazzy, but I do get to drive our sky blue Dodge Caravan home from the stadium.

· 1999: Definitely one of my top three favorite birthdays ever. I am turning 18 and it is once again cool to throw my own birthday party. So I do. By this time I go to a large public high school with about 3000 students. I make up flyers and pass them out to my fellow seniors. Everyone I know is invited. We buy a N64 and the newest 007 game especially for the party for guests to play (and by “we” I mean my mom and I). We put out playing cards and poker chips on the poker/bumper pool table. We set up music and Christmas lights in the backyard so people can dance or chill outside if they want. We have every kind of food imaginable including giant platters of Chick-fil-A chicken nuggets and about a million homemade Christmas cookies. And because I’m a good Christian kid there is no alcohol to be found, and yet about sixty or so kids from every clique in school (and a few other schools too) show up. At one point in the evening, I play a game of one-on-one against Tim Ryan in my driveway in front of a crowd of people and I win of course. The best present of the evening comes from a group of varsity girls basketball fans who get me 84 jell-o pudding cups gift-wrapped in a garbage bag complete with big red bow because everyone knows I’m a huge fan of jell-o chocolate and vanilla pudding.

· 2002: Probably my favorite birthday so far. It’s my 21st birthday and Travis (my favorite person in the whole world and my fiancé at the time) drives me to Dallas from Waco and takes me out to one of the nicest restaurants in the city, The Old Warsaw. We eat a five-course meal and drink an amazing bottle of wine. I have a glass of Grand Marnier with dessert. At one point in the evening Rodney Dangerfield comes into the restaurant and sits down at the bar about 20 feet away. We hear him coming before we ever even see him because he is one very loud, crazy bastard (god rest his soul).

· 2003: For my 22nd birthday, I once again throw myself a birthday part reminiscent of my 18th. At this point I’m married and have a very adorable duplex that I have decorated for Christmas and love love love, so I decide to go the sophisticated, grown-up birthday party route. However, the husband is out of town in Kansas with friends attending the Big 12 championship game that weekend, so it’s me on my own being sophisticated. I buy and make tons of food. My sister helps by making chocolate fondue. Platters of Chick-fil-A nuggets are a must because what is more sophisticated than that. We have eggnog and lots of liquor and champagne. We mingle and play games and act like grown-ups. At one point when my brother-in-law gives me a toast, I raise my glass enthusiastically and (being a little tipsy at this point) throw champagne all over myself in front of all my guests. Lovely. But it is one of the most fun birthdays I’ve ever had because I have beautiful, amazing, fun friends and so the holiday themed birthday party becomes an annual tradition for me to host while living in Waco and going to school… I miss those a lot.

It is always good for the heart to remember good times. And what memory is better for the heart than a happy memory of one’s birthdays past? I love my birthday. Out of all of the 365 days in the year, this is the day that it is perfectly acceptable to just sit back, relax and soak up the love and cheer from the people that mean the most to me. I relish in every single happy birthday wish from close friend or acquaintance. And every single good birthday memory I have is because of the people that have shared them with me. It is truly my family and friends, old and new, who have made my birthdays, and my life in general, so special.

I love you all and wish you all a very happy day.

My sweet ride at age 3

Home for the holidays (or until I go meshugeh... whichever comes first)

Okay, being home really isn't all that bad. I get to be back in my own cozy bed with a television, DVD player and all my seasons of Friends. I know how to get basically anywhere using any of DFWs 20 something major highways. I live less than 3 minutes away from a SuperTarget and a Best Buy and a 24hour Fitness. I have a choice of 1.8 quadrillion chain restaurants at which to eat or drink or watch games or what have you. I have a steady income again. I have friends and family here that I missed. And so the story goes.

I know that I really like Texas. It's big. It's proud. It's a force to reckon with. I literally woo-hooed for joy for the first five miles driving on I-35 when I crossed the Texas state line. This is a great state and a great metroplex and I missed it. Parts of it. So don't think that I don't like the Lone Star State and all it has to offer. But I'm not gonna lie to you. I liked traveling. I liked it a lot. I had heard people say before that traveling is addictive and I now I feel as though there is something very truthful to that theory.

There is something strangely thrilling about being in a new place and not knowing what you would find around the next corner. There is something intriguing about getting to know people from all over the country and how they call Rock, Paper, Scissors either Farkeling or Rochambeau depending on which side of the Mason-Dixie line they live. There is something exhilarating about seeing mountains lakes and woods of evergreens at every turn when you've only ever seen hill country, Great Plains, and smatterings of deciduous trees. And this is just by driving 1000 miles or so up the road.

Basically, what I have begun to realize is how very little I know about the world and it's people. And I think being able to expose myself to these things by being somewhere different is one way to learn and also a way for me to keep my sanity. I get really wrapped up in myself and my own way of thinking. Being able to talk to people who have never lived in the south and who grew up in a hippie commune somewhere out on the west coast and knowing that there are things that we have in common that are as apparent as our differences helps me clarify things. The feelings are the same. The thought processes are the same. The problems are all basically the same. But their perspectives are different. Their priorities are different. Their way of living is just different. And that's such a good thing. It helps open my mind in a way that my family, DFW, and Baylor University never could.

So I'm home for now. Processing where I've been and what I've seen and whom I've met. I’m fine with being in my own room, watching Friends (whom I really actually missed), going to work five days a week and having a routine once again. And I like it for what it is. It's comfortable. But there is so much for me to see and do that is elsewhere. I don't think I'll be able to stand still for long.