brave like you

Most of the time, I don’t feel very brave. Not like other people. I hear of people who do things, like really DO things, and my first thought is never, “that sounds awesome, I want to do that sometime,” it’s always, “oh, I could never do that.”

It doesn’t matter what it is. Bungee jumping. Flying in a hot air balloon. Giving a speech in front of a huge crowd. My gut reaction is just...that’s something other people do. Not me. Some people are brave, doers, leaders, but I just, well, am.

I suppose I’m brave in other ways. Smaller ways. And maybe those are just as important. But sometimes I feel like that the things I do that make me feel brave are just everyday occurrences for other people. Things like interviewing someone at work for the first time, or standing up in a company meeting to make an announcement, these things seem to come so easily to other people, people devoid of social anxiety or fear of public speaking, people who don't like or need to practice saying important things before they say them.

Small acts of bravery, though, sometimes that feels like enough. I stood up at my grandmother’s funeral once, walked to the front of the church, and read something I wrote, something completely personal, in front of an emotional crowd. That’s the first time I’ve ever read something I’ve written out loud to other people and not been focused on the words I wrote, or whether or not people will like them. I just wanted to share something about the person I loved who was no longer there.

I went with my parents and sister when Ripley was put to sleep. To this day, that’s the first and only time I’ve ever witnessed a death (excepting TV deaths, of course, but that’s obviously not the same). I dreaded this event, for obvious reasons, but also because I was terrified of seeing Ripley die. What would it look like? How would I react? How would my family react? I went, though. I felt like I had to. I had to be there for Ripley, for my family. 

Maybe that’s it, then. I have a hard time being brave for myself, but I manage to be brave if it’s for someone I love. Which is a nice thought. I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but I like it. I wonder if this is true for everyone? It’s so hard to put yourself out there just for your own benefit. How often do we cheerlead our friends and family, believing that they can do anything, and yet we can’t do the same for ourselves? I know this isn’t any kind of revelation, but we need reminders that we can do things that we might not think we can do. Maybe I can learn how to fly a plane. Learn another language. Give a speech to hundreds of people. Or ten people, even. Baby steps.

We need to give ourselves more credit for small, daily acts of bravery. Not everyone is going to get the chance to save someone’s life or put out a fire or stop the zombie apocalypse (though I really hope someone can do that last one). The rest of us need to be happy with daily bravery. It’s just as valuable, really, if you add it up over time. So we should probably start keeping track, just in case we’re being graded.

Why are things so heavy in the future? Is there a problem with the earth's gravitational pull?

Prompt: Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

Two things happened this year that made me feel alive, two things that are opposite sides of the same coin, really. I got married in September, a day full of happiness and fun and love, and then my grandma died in October and there were days of sadness and family and, you guessed it, love again.

When I think about both events, spending time with friends in the days before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner, the day itself, and a month later, the last time I saw Grandma, the visitation, the funeral, the days of confusion, I tend to focus on specific moments, the most important flashing through my mind in quick succession.

My grandma couldn't come to the wedding, but she was present that day. The pastor surprised us all by taking a moment to remember her during the ceremony, and I concentrated on blinking away the tears that quickly formed in my eyes. I sat next to my great-aunt, my Grandma's twin sister, after the ceremony and she held my hand, told me how the pastor's words had touched her, and we sat for a quiet moment together.

The wedding ceremony itself was a blur. My feet hurt, my arm was tired from holding the bouquet, and my cheeks already ached from smiling and laughing. We were so happy, walking out into the church foyer after the ceremony, holding hands, hugging friends and family, taking a giddy ride to the reception.

The reception was...I don't even know. There was Twister and dancing and there were fake mustaches EVERYWHERE, there were cupcakes and soft pretzels, and a bottle of wine and Hogwarts being passed around on the dance floor. I danced with my family and old friends and new friends and did I mention Hogwarts? I walked arm in arm to the bar (naturally) with my dad to get a drink, grinned at my parents dancing with their best friends, delighted in seeing my sister dance with mine. If the wedding ceremony was a blur, the reception was even hazier, a crazy whirligig of fun, if you will (™ Xander Harris), a funhouse ride swirling us about in an uncontrollable dance, finally spitting us back out at my parents' house for more celebration.

There was a moment, though, at my parents' house, that my dad and his brother and sister and I stood in a huddle in the kitchen, arms around shoulders, friends and family eddying around us. I don't remember who said it or how it was said, but someone made reference to how much fun Grandma would have had and how much she'd been missed that day, and we stood there, all bittersweet smiles and aching hearts, until we were swept away by the general merriment of the night. We didn't know she would be gone in a month. How could we?

The days of her visitation and funeral passed in a similar blur, but with more tears. My eyes were swollen from a week of crying and still my body had more tears, my high-heeled feet hurt, my heart hurt, and all I wanted to do was hide. But, as always seems to happen, those times when you want to run and hide are exactly the times you can't, and so I went to the visitation, made small talk with almost-strangers and kept my eye on my family, gravitating to whoever might need me most. I went to the funeral, jumped up to read when it was my turn, and spent the rest of it with my eyes forward, tears streaming down my face, holding Joe's hand, my other arm around my sister's shoulders.

It was a sunny autumn day, brisk but not cold, as we gathered around the graveside to say our final goodbyes. I tried not to stumble in my heels. I smiled at my sister, put a rose on other family plots, hugged a crying cousin as we walked away from Grandma one last time. I felt too alive that day and all too human.

We went to my parents' house after both the wedding reception and the funeral, my entire family gathered, joyous to be together, missing those not there, and all of us grinning and crying and laughing, just grateful to be alive and loving each other.

Jennie Baxla and the Severe Tire Damage

Here is how last night was supposed to go: leave work, go to volunteering, go home, eat a nutritious dinner, read Harry Potter, go to sleep.

Here is how it happened instead: left work, ran into something hella crazy in the road, got a flat tire, called AAA, waiting in rainy parking lot, drove car to (closed) Tire Discounters, ate Donatos for dinner instead of healthy chicken, read Harry Potter, stayed up too late, went to sleep.

The tire damage part of it happened like this:



I had to draw a picture because I'm having trouble explaining to people exactly what happened. But I'll try. For what are we without words? Animals, I guess. Except some animals can talk. Like parrots. And gorillas. They talk with their hands sometimes. Anyway.

I was seriously five minutes away from volunteering and not late or anything, so I wasn't even speeding (for once). It was raining pretty hard and the road was all shiny. Not good shiny like in Firefly, but bad shiny as in POOR VISIBILITY. And I was driving through construction and the lane kept going all topsy turvy and different directions so sometimes I don't think I was even in a lane, and as I went through the intersection all of the sudden there was this cement curb island thing RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME and so I swerved but not enough and I totally ran over it AND THEN MY CAR FLIPPED OVER AND OVER BUT I LANDED RIGHT SIDE UP AND PULLED INTO AN ALLSTATE PARKING LOT OH YEAH FIRE FIRE EXPLOSION GRYFFINDOR! Oh wait, the Gryffindor thing...I will that explain later.

It all happened just like that except for the fire and explosion. I sat in the parking lot for a moment, all shaky, and then called the cavalry (Joe and AAA). In my heart, I hoped that AAA could fix the tire but in my head I knew it was effed. Sure enough, when the tow truck arrived and he took the tire off, the wheel was all bent and shit and apparently wheels are never, ever supposed to be bent and shit. So the AAA guy put my spare on and then put air in the spare because why wouldn't my spare be almost flat, too? What, like I'm suppose to be prepared? Eff that, you guys. Then the AAA guy told me how much money he'd made in six months and how he was excited for it to snow because it meant he'd make even more money and I was like, "Dude, I know your job depends on the misfortune of others but could you try not to sport so much wood when you talk about it? Especially next to my poor, poor car? She's already traumatized enough."

But. OK. So as I was waiting for AAA to get there, a van pulled into a parking spot near me. I spied on them (obviously) and they got out of the car to look at their front passenger side tire and I was like, "huh," but I stayed in my car because it was raining and cold outside. Then the tow truck got there and the Van Guy came over to my car and this happened:

Van Guy: Is there something wrong with your car?
Jennie's Brain: Um, there's a tow truck here, wtf do you think?
Jennie Out Loud: Yeah, I got a flat tire.
Van Guy: Did you run over that thing in the road back there by the gas station?
Jennie's Brain: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT, ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?
Jennie Out Loud: Yes! Did that happen to you, too?
Van Guy: Sure did.

Then he started talking to my tow truck driver and I was all, "THAT'S MY TOW TRUCK DRIVER! STOP BOGARTING MY TOW TRUCK GUY!" and then the tow truck driver told us that whatever we'd both hit had caused an accident last week. Way to go, Dayton. Anyway, around this time, I noticed that the Van Guy was wearing a Gryffindor shirt.

Jennie's Brain: OMG, he's wearing a Gryffindor shirt!
Jennie Out Loud: I like your shirt, guy.
Jennie's Brain: BETTER BE...GRYFFINDOR!

The end.

but the children love the books

Some of you may know that I volunteer with a group called Oak Tree Corner, a place for children and teens to go to when someone close to them has died. I've written about it here and here. And probably other places, too, only I can't find those other places. Anyway.

Oak Tree's big yearly fundraiser is on April 24. We are funded solely on charitable contributions from friends, family, and the community. So, if you think this sounds like a good cause or you have an extra $5 laying around, would you consider donating? Pretty please? If you donate, I'll write a post about whatever you want. Or I'll send you candy, which is probably more of an enticement than me babbling about killer zombie monkeys from space or whatever. Again, I say ANYWAY.

THIS is where you can make donations and become my best friend.

Cafe Disco is dead, but I can still hear the music in my head.

Even after all my complaining, yesterday turned out to be quite perfect. You know, once I left work and went home and had a cookout. You see, Lampl and Jon are moving to Florida (wah waaaaaah) but, they can't take their grill with them, so they gave it to us (yaaaaay). They brought it over last night, but Jon had to leave, so Lampl, Heidi, Joe, and I were put in charge of grilling, even though none of us really knew what we were doing. Since it involved lighter fluid and matches and I didn't want to burn down our new apartment or char any of my friends, I concentrated on drinking beer and making french fries.

Aside: I totally made french fries from scratch last night AND they were so good, you guys. So good. They tasted (and smelled) just like Penn Station fries, which means that if Heidi and I can figure out how to make subs similar to Penn Station's, we're going to save so much money.

We had a bit of trouble getting the grill hot, but Joe just kept squirting lighter fluid all over the place and throwing more matches and finally FINALLY, the grill got hot enough and we threw the food on. It was delicious and we all smelled like campfire afterward. Eventually, we started talking about poops, so we decided it was probably time to call it a night, because where do you go from there?

I think the cookout food definitely affected my brain and gave me crazy dreams, though. Last night, I dreamt I was at a dinner party with Rush Limbaugh and Sarah Palin and I could BARELY CONTAIN MY GLEE because I'd never been the smartest person at a dinner party before.