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abstrusecontemplations
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Name: Jessamyn
Country: United States
State: New York
Metro: Rochester
Birthday: 7/2/1987
Gender: Female
Interests: dancing, singing, movies, youth group, boys, praising God, ministry, NOT sports, friends, ways to annoy people, writing, reading,
Expertise: ways to annoy people, giving hugs, making an ass of myself, cake decorating, royally screwing up my life
Message: message me
AIM:  cowzRus05
Member Since:
1/30/2004
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| I am in a state of such disturbing turbulent contradictory tension that I don't know what to do.
I've always craved intimacy, even before I had any concept of it. I tend to, occasionally against the better judgement of societal norms, jump at opportunities to suffice my cravings, even if only for that, a gratification of a human need. This is not raucous, by any means, but rather a personal celebration of the beautiful body God has given me and the manifestation of the very essence of our humanness. Okay, so maybe this is just a fancy way of saying that I like to make-out and cuddle. But to those who know me, it's a hell of a lot more than that.
Yet, in the throes of a fleeting nostalgic longing for such closeness and intimacy with someone, I find myself abruptly abandoning such a longing and shuddering with disgust.
I remember. I remember the one time (the last one, in fact), the one guy that made me hate my body, that made me disgusted with myself, that made me look in the mirror and then quickly look away.
He was deceptive and manipulative and drunk. Too drunk. So drunk that he didn't realize that he was hurting me and didn't understand why I was trying to push him off. He thought I was playing a game. He probably still does. I finally convinced him to stop, but he kept trying and I kept lying there wondering when he was just going to get tired and roll over and fall asleep. And even then I couldn't sleep because I dreaded the next time he would wake up and try again.
He didn't actually rape me. But he could have. I had the bruises to prove it.
And when I told a friend the next day, she said "well, you know what I'm going to tell you." I stared at her inquisitively. "You shouldn't have had him over in the first place."
So then it's my fault?
I'm a statistic, and it's my fault?
Even now I hesitate to post this publicly, because I don't want you to look at me that way. And I don't want you to cry in pity and sympathy. I don't want you to hug me and tell me to cry it out and dance it out, and I don't want you to tell me that I'm strong and beautiful no matter what.
I want you to DO something. And I want to know that I'll someday be able to trust someone again. Anyone.
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| Dear Giovanna,
Thank you sooooo much for accomodating me and making me pancakes and taking me to the movies and taking me to dinner Tuesday night and walking around NYC with me and doing everything you could to make it a special trip! I'm so glad I got to spend time with you. I love you so much.
Dear Uncle Roger,
Thank you for the delicious dinner on Monday night and for helping me around when I finally got into New York. I know you probably wanted to see a little more of me, but at least I got to spend a few hours with you!
Dear Uncle Larry,
We tried, we did, but I was only in town for a short period of time, and the way things were working out, there was really no way I could have spent very much time with you. I hope Sophia and the boys are well, and I hope to see you sometime soon.
Dear Marita,
I'm sorry, please don't be disappointed with me. I, too, would have liked to spend a little more time with you, but it was my decision to go back into the city, so don't be upset with Giovanna, either. At least we got to see each other a little bit? It was so refreshing to be able to get along with each other, and it makes me really happy that we're mature enough now to understand how much we love each other and rely on each other in spite of our immense differences. I hope your paper is going well, and if you ever need to talk about anything, please try to get a hold of me. I know I'm pretty unreachable now-a-days, but I want to be here for you, I swear. I love you, okay? Please don't be mad at me.
Dear Me,
You deserved this, don't forget that, in spite of everything that happened. You've worked your ass off so far this semester and you've been through a lot, so it's about time that you spent some money and did something for yourself. Yes, it was on a total whim, and everyone kept saying "next time you should plan ahead so we can have a better time;" but you know better than anyone else that even if you'd planned for it, it wouldn't have worked the way you wanted it to. You love New York and you can't see everyone or make everyone happy. But you needed something to really MAKE spring break for you, especially to keep your mind off of... other things. This was a YOU trip, and damnit, you deserve a real break.
Love,
Me
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| Monday, March 12, 2007
4:52am* Leave 1019 W. High Vista Trail for train station
5:14am Arrive at Amtrack station and attain reserved train ticket
5:57am Board train bound for Penn Station, New York, NY
7:19am Arrive in Syracuse to board other passengers
7:38am Conductor makes announcement - "Ladies and Gentlemen, we have just been informed of a major freight train derailment ahead of us which is preventing us from moving through. We will inform you of any further information we receive. If you would like, you are free to move around the station, but please listen for futher announcements."
8:19am Conductor makes new announcement - "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are unable to proceed, please gather your belongings and exit the train immediately. Buses will be arriving shortly to take you to the Albany station. Please proceed to the downstairs of the station."
8:45am Use the dirtiest public restroom in New York State
9:36am Announcement heard over PA system in station - "The buses for train 280 to Penn Station are expected to arrive between 9:45 and 10:15. We will inform you when they arrive and instruct you accordingly."
10:17am Board bus; tallest man on with longest legs sits next to me, sprawling into my seat.
10:36am Long-legged man begins to snore
1:12pm Arrive in Albany train station
1:59m Board train to Penn Station
4:28pm Arrive in Penn Station
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
(Getting To Purchase)
9:22am Leave Giovanna's appartment, heading east on 202nd, toward train station
9:23am Turn right onto Valentine and another right onto Bedford Park Boulevard, heading toward train station; am being followed by strange men - call Marita for preoccupation
"Hi, I'm heading south on Bedford, am I heading in the right direction?"
"Oh, ummmm, I'm not sure... are you going down hill?"
 "Sure?"
"Okay, well I'm not really sure where you are. I think you might have passed it. Yeah, you already passed over the bridge, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but I haven't been walking that long, I thought it was further."
"Wait, where are you?"
"I'm on Bedford, should I turn around?"
"Yeah, I think so"
*groan* "Okay, I'm at Grand Concourse and Bedford, WHICH WAY DO I GO"
"I DON'T KNOW."
"Well, I'm going the way I was before, and if I miss the train, then so be it."
9:41am Marita calls again.
"You're going the right way."
"I KNOW."
9:45am Arrive at train station AS the train pulls in, leaving no time for me to get a ticket; board train.
9:52am Conductor charges $8 for on-board ticket.
10:12am Train arrives in White Plains; walk across the street to bus station to catch the number 12 bus to Purchase.
10:19am Phone dies. COMPLETELY.
10:28am Number 12 bus arrives; it is labeled "County Airport," and against my better judgement, I don't get on.
10:31am Realize the bus goes to Purchase on its way to the County Airport, and now I must wait for the next bus to arrive at 11:45
10:34am Try to find pay phone to let someone know I missed the bus
10:37am Pay $1 for long-distance call to St. Paul's office because it's the only number I can remember that was of any help. Answering machine.
10:38am Realize I don't have enough change to make another call and leave a message for mom to tell her to call Marita
10:41am Get cash from ATM (which charges me a $2 withdrawal fee). Lady at counter of store with ATM won't give me change for my $20.
10:42am Store next to it won't give me change either.
10:46am Sit down in bus station and cry. A lot.
10:50am Walk into store at bus station and ask once more for change. Nice italian man hands me change and notices that my hands are in a cryogenic state and INSISTS that I stay inside to wait for the bus.
11:25am Board #12 bus. Fare requires exact change. Lose a quarter.
11:48am Arrive at Purchase. Wander aimlessly for several minutes because I don't know where I am or where to go. Marita spots me, screams my name and SPRINTS over to me and gives me the biggest hug. And it was nice.
*******
(Getting back to the City)
4:01pm Greg drops me off at train station. Missed 3:59 train. Get ticket for 4:06 train which is believed to be an express that will stop in Harlem at 125th (which is what I want).
4:06.07pm Board train.
4:06.11pm Voice on train says "This is a Manhattan-bound local train into Grand Central. It will be making all stops in between."
4:06.17pm GET OFF TRAIN
4:23pm Board next train, an express to Fordham, 125th, and Grand Central. At this point it is too late to go into Harlem to meet Giovanna. Go to Grand Central anyway.
4:53pm Arrive in Grand Central. Proceed to try to exit building. Dear God, Grand Central is very very VERY BIG and intimidating, especially during rush hour. Fear not, I kept my cool and looked very professional and hurried, like everyone else.
5:09pm Board shuttle to Times Square. Squash tourists in Times Square.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
(Getting to the airport for flight at 9:15am)
6:22am Leave Giovanna's apartment, heading east on 202nd, and then going north on Grand Concourse
6:29am Board D train heading downtown. Train sits for 10 minutes. 
6:51am Arrive at 7th Ave. Station (where I am instructed to get off). It is badly labeled and I didn't realize it was 7th Ave. until we were leaving the platform.
6:54am Arrive at 8th Ave. Exit and go upstairs to walk across to 7th Ave. Realize that I can just take the train uptown. Buy a new ride pass because I was out of rides on my MetroCard.
7:06am Arrive at 7th Ave. Go upstairs (as I was instructed) and transfer to E train heading toward Queens and exiting at Jamaica.
7:27am Arrive at Chambers St. Train stops and announces "this is the last stop for this train." Everyone exists except for the two homeless people asleep on the train.  PANIC.
7:29am Walk to other car and ask woman if this is indeed going to Jamaica. "Yes," she replies.
"Um, why are we stopped?"
"Because it went all the way down, and now we have to go back up again."
7:48am Train heads back uptown and over to Jamaica Center. (1hr, 27 min. to take-off)
8:17am Arrive at Station and exit, heading toward Air Train. Buy Ticket for Air Train. Approach platform for Air Train.
8:42am Board Air Train. (38 min. to take-off)
8:56am Exit Air Train. (19 min. to take-off)
9:01am Approach kiosk at JetBlue terminal and apply confirmation number for reservation. Screen says "OOps! It's to close to the departure of your flight to receive your boarding pass. Take the coupon below to your nearest JetBlue representative"
9:02am Go to Costumer Service. Get boarding pass. (13 min. to take-off)
9:05am Arrive at security. Line. Long line. Lots of stuff. Shoes... with buckles. Go through metal detector. My hair clip sets it off... shoes... buckles... hair clip...
9:13am Leave security. SPRINT to gate (in the heels, with the buckles), get in line as they're boarding.
I'm still can't believe I actually got on that plane...
*While some times are an approximation, most are exact times... I was checking the time pretty regularly...
Part the second to follow
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| So, I'm in the library printing off some stuff for class. Dr. Bochen wanted us to print off some of the Vatican II Documents... now, apparently, she didn't want us to read ALL of them, just this one section. But I got way too into it, and so now I'm printing the whole thing... which is now adding up to about 400 pages of printed stuff. And I'm feeling really guilty. It's free printing for me, but I always feel bad when I do lots of printing... so many trees just died... but it's for a good cause right? ... In other news, yesterday I went to the interest meeting for Fulbright Scholarships, and if I want to go to the program I want in Italy, I have to be PROFICIENT (their words, not mine) in Italian, both written and spoken. So now I have to learn italian in a year an a half. I wanted to write something about this last weekend, but now's as good a time as any. There are a lot of really fantastic people in my life, and I have great things, abundant blessings. Giovanna came to see Heidi Chronicles - as in, bought a plane ticket and came to Rochester from NYC for a weekend to see me - and it pretty much made my life. Mom and dad gave me flowers and chocolate and a really cute stuffed animal cow that is sitting on my dressing table in the dressing room. Uncle Roger sent me two Wendy Wasserstein books, one of which is autographed. I also had coffee with Nora and she relieved all sorts of anxieties I was having and giving me hope and saying all the things that I don't get to hear anymore, but which I still need to hear every now and then. And people are just really fantastic. Yeah, lots of other stuff sucks a lot right now, but sometimes it's just really nice to be overwhelmed with a sense of belonging and love and acceptance. Pace. | | |
| Or "How I Should Learn to Exhibit More Caution" Because my weeks lately have been trying, fast-paced, and both physically and psychologically draining, I have made a valiant effort to try to maintain my social life. I've spent at least one night each weekend since I've been back at school with friends or doing something unrelated to work or school. Therefore, this past weekend I had planned to make an appearance at the 100 Days Mixer (celebrating the last 100 days before graduation). I returned from work rather late, showered quickly, and continued to get ready, confirming with several friends online, meanwhile, that I would be attending: people were expecting me to be there, and we had planned as such. Half-clothed in my skirt and bra, I heard a knock on my door. Under the impression that it was my across-the-hall neighbors (who were the only ones I could think of who might be knocking at my door at 12:30am on a Saturday evening), I came to the door and flung it open, expecting to be greeted warmly by a less-than-sober Pina and Kelsey. Now, had this been a movie, there would be forboding music playing with deep sounds and a quickening pace. People watching the movie would be thinking (or, depending on the person, screaming at the television) OHMYGOD, DON'T OPEN THE DOOR, knowing perfectly well what or who was on the other side of the door. To my surprise and utter horror, there were three tall, very intoxicated, young black men who I did not recognize standing directly in front of me, looking rather intent on entering the suite. As everything I ever learned about self-defense and baby-sitter training came rushing through my head, I slowly closed the door, leaving less and less room between us. They mumbled something about thinking that someone else lived there, and as I calmly tried to convince them that they DEFINITELY had the wrong room. I tried desperately not to let my panicked expression show through, and slowly but surely, I got them to back up enough to let me close the door finally and lock it while I continued to get ready. About fifteen minutes later, I completed my transformation from gritty-just-made-pizzas-for-four-hours look to my mixer look ( ), I emerged from the room and the coast appeared to be clear. However, as I passed through the kitchen on my floor, the three young men appeared again. I confidently and unwaveringly strutted past them, not even hesitating or acknowledging them or making eye contact with them. They followed me. I knew it was a short distance to the gym (and location of the mixer, surrounded by other people, especially my friends), and I knew that there would be pockets of other people on my way over - I knew I wouldn't be alone with them for very long, especially if I was walking with such celerity. I entered the mixer and disappeared into the crowd, found my friends, and never saw them again that evening and ended up enjoying myself very thoroughly, which was my initial intent. It never occurred to me to not go to the Mixer because of this encounter. I had been planning on it all weekend and had even talked to my friends just before hand, telling them that I was on my way. However, as I recounted this story (with a little added drama, as I tend to do), several people expressed their concern that I actually persisted and ended up going. I was rather taken aback and have continued to defend myself and my reasons for going. I was scared by these strange men, yes, but not threatened. I've been trying to rationalize it for a couple of days now, because I was so surprised that people were expecting me to exhibit "more caution", but I know myself well enough, and I'm a relatively good judge of character - I knew that while it was a potential risk, going to the mixer (just like going into the city at night or working at an inner-city day camp all summer are risks, just like getting into my car every single time that I do, just like being out on my own are risks as well), these men were aggressively and inappropriately flirting, and that, had I given them reason and chance, they might have attacked me. But I wouldn't give them that chance. Call it pride, call it arrogance, call it naivete, but I really don't think that I was at fault here. There's risk everywhere, and while avoiding it is a really good idea, you can't spend your life sacrificing what you enjoy because of fear and because of caution. If something does happen someday, then I give everyone permission to slap me in the face and say "told you so," but until then, I'm going to continue defending this. Pace? | | |
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