I’ve Barely Been Gone

So about a week ago I had the most vivid and intense dream I have had in a long time. I love dreaming. I wish I could put all of my dreams on dvd and become obsessed with the limited edition box set. Nothing is better than being out of your element, and having the freedom to be anyone, at anytime, with various levels of self-concept and self-esteem. I have no idea to what brainy devices and mysteries I owe this pleasure, and I also don’t know how and what I can read into it, but it was dramatically delicious none-the-less.

Embark on this journey through the depths of my psyche, won’t you?

The dream began as all dreams must, in a location that seems like reality, but is really just a figment of your imagination. We open in a conference room at the Residence Inn located in Virginia Beach, Virginia (although there is no Residence Inn in Virginia Beach, apparently I unconsciously want there to be!) I open my eyes, and I am Jessica Rosa, in a meeting room, complete with white boards and conference tables. As I look around and begin to piece together my location and purpose, I realize that I am wearing a purple dress with bright yellow suns all over it…picture a chubby and brunette version of Ms. Frizzle from the Magic School Bus. Before my body has time to reject my dress like an inadequate kidney, I notice that I am standing in a conference room with a random (and pathetically scarce) number of friends and family. Not only are there about 5 or 6 people here, but there is no food, no drinks, no decorations, no music, no wedding dress - nothing. The closest things to sustenance are a few crumbs left over on the tables from the last group. I did not plan my wedding…AT ALL. How did I let this slip through my fingers? Was I so overwhelmed with everyday life that I just...forgot? I stood in the middle of the room, soaking up the atrocity that was my wedding, and oozing out disappointment and embarrassment like some sort of bridezilla-plant photosynthesis. I knew I had to do something. Jessica Rosa (the bride) could not go down like this. I wondered how much longer my family and friends could go before the painful urge to point out deficiencies set in.

I tore out of the conference room armed without a plan and only the biggest dilemma I could imagine. As I stormed the hotel to find the life-ruining fool responsible for this act of pure evil, I noticed that each and every one of the employees at the Residence Inn all happened to be Nordstrom employees. I didn’t have time to figure out why Nordstrom and the Residence Inn switched employees for the day, so I just began shouting (total problem-solver) – “What’s going on? Where’s my wedding?! How did this happen?!?! Get some food together!! That room is a mess!! Help me!!! (Apparently in dreams I go into instant dictator mode when I am stressed out…so unlike the calm and delightfully professional communicator I am in real life.)

No one was listening to me; they were too busy with the disaster recovery of the lunch buffet that had just been devoured by a group of tourists with sunblocked noses and bathing trunks. Somehow I came across and untouched platter of baked-to-perfection, white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. (And if you are asking yourself, “I wonder if these cookies Jessica Rosa is alluding to are of the variety I can get 3 for a dollar from Subway on special occasions?” My answer is yes, yes, a million times yes.)

Before I snatched the platter of cookies with a wild ferocity unmatched by any cookie snatcher known to date, I thought, “You know, I really need to pee!” I knew before I even made eyes with the first cookie that there was no way I would make it back to the wedding before stopping by the bathroom. I don’t know why I intentionally sabatoged the integrity of these cookies, but I did. I took them into the bathroom with me and peed to my heart’s content. On my way back to the conference room I realized that I couldn’t serve cookies at my wedding that had watched me pee. So I ditched those bitches and made my way back to my wedding, a.k.a.“Misfortune 2011.”

At this point my guests were just standing around waiting for something to happen, exactly like the Sims. The room was empty in every possible sense of the word. There was only me and the soulless bodies of a few random friends and family. Finally I got a hold of myself, I mentally did the whole thing where you get shaken and slapped across the face. I pulled myself up by my Spanx straps and said, “No! This will not be my wedding! There has to be some mistake! My wedding must be at the other Residence Inn and we all just came to the wrong one!” I turned to run out of the conference room to find Pilly and Peter heading outside for a cigarette break. I was momentarily insane with anger, Pilly could have a least volunteered to help me find our lost wedding, but I had to get this figured out, and fast. There was no time for dramatics. I hopped in my car and drove to the next nearest Residence Inn.

This hotel I made up completely. There is no Residence Inn that looks like this, or at least that I know of. On my way to the second hotel I realized that not only did I forget to plan my wedding, but I just plum forgot to plan my honeymoon, and worse yet, I forgot to apply for a marriage license. There was no way this wedding was going to happen. It was impossible.

I still couldn’t give up, there were people back at Residence Inn 1 counting on me, I had to make this right. I exploded through the front door of Residence Inn 2 as only a woman scorned could. I once again found random Nordstrom employees working at the front desk. I sprinted down the hallway and passed Taylor; he was holding a clip board and taking some sort of inventory. How did he get a job here? He wasn’t a Nordstrom employee. I knew that he had seen me, and he knew that I had seen him, and we both knew, that we both knew, that we both noticed and deliberately ignored one another – but we said nothing. Just as I was about to turn around and give him a piece of my mind I realized that I had forgotten to invite Taylor to my wedding, so I thought best not to go after him. I came out of the backdoor and stumbled upon a man who was fond of suspenders talking to the employees about wanting to use the pool after work. Nope, no wedding here.

So once again I jump back in my car and headed back to Residence Inn 1. As soon as I entered the building I could tell that something was differ now. People were optimistic; there was electricity in the air! I got the immediate sense that something amazing was about to happen. There were more people now, luxiouriosly lounging about the lobby, all dressed up, rubbing elbows, engaging in long drawn out belly laughs, it was an evening! A black tie affair! Peter was in front of a computer with a crowd behind him showing off his latest animation creations, things were happening. I paused for a moment and instantly concluded that this was it. I, Jessica Rosa, was actually going to get married. This was my moment in the sun, well my moment under a strange shade of lavender and several suns. I was just going to have to suck it up, things got off to a rocky mountainous start, but I wouldn’t allow my wedding to go down in history as the worst one of all time. I was going to march down that aisle and finally marry Michael J. Pilapil. I had the nerve, and I was going to do it, I just had to “get that dirt of my shoulder” and head for the conference room. As I walked through the lobby I overheard my Aunt Dyann say, “Yeah I heard it was a beautiful promise ring,” but her tone was sarcastic and inquisitive. I wondered what she meant, but didn’t have time to find out.

I approached the conference room door, took one final breath, and then opened the door with all of the grace an ease possible for a Rosa. And there, before my very eyes was a lavish and uncompromisingly shiny ball room. It is decorated entirely. There was a lot of red and gold, there were crystals dangling from all possible fixtures, things were glittering and twinkling everywhere, it is a wedding fit for a Kardashian. There was enough food and drink to feed everyone I had ever known. And most importantly the room was full of adoring friends, family, and even fans and members of the media! A wave of relief and excitement came over me, this was all for me! Everyone was here to see me! The cameras were all here to photograph me! I was the star of the show, the main event, the cherry on top, the king of the world and the bell of the ball!!!!!!! Me, me, me, wonderful, darling ol’ me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! As I took my first step into the room a thunderous round of applause detonated, and everyone was on their feet! And just before everyone I had ever known in my entire life leapt to their fee to block my view, I caught a glimpse of Shannon and Pilly kissing as they were just announced husband and wife. Cameras began to go off, and Shannon expertly smiled, waved, winked, and curtseyed for each and every flash. As Pilly and Shannon made their way down the aisle arm-in-arm, Shannon whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry, we are just joking.”

Ok, what? I don’t know what any of this means, and I am not sure that I want to.

For some reason I could not escape the dream world that night. Before I finally woke up for the last time I had two other dreams: one where I was eating a pancake on top of some red beans and rice (which sounds like the most putrid combination of all time), and a second dream that included an argument between me and my mom because she forced me to get her a peach out of the fridge when she knew I was sore and tired from working out.

Ah, sometimes it is nice to be awake.

Tracing the lines,

Rosa

You Can Feel It All Over

Well the spring semester, and my official first semester at VCU are almost over. It’s pretty much exams from here on out, and then two glorious weeks of freedom. I still have to work, but to have my free time to…well…be free of school obligations is enough for me! For heaven’s sake I already know I am going to squander the shit out of it, but the point is that I know it is there, it is on its way, and if I put forth my very best effort I may be able to find a way to capitalize on it. I doubt it though. I am very bad at moving quickly. I’m going to do that whole thing where I savor every single second of it, even if I am standing in line at the grocery store.

So of course like with any ending, I can’t help but recapture the last few months by adding up the columns of successes and failures, and comparing the results.

Ok, so successes.

I had to volunteer at an adult day care center and the main purpose was to implement the communication skills we were supposed to be learning in my “Communication in the Helping Process” class, and then apply them to communicating with “the elderly.” Now I can’t even say “the elderly” without feeling like I am implying some sort of intentional orientation.

I met a lot of people that I felt sorry for and that I was scared of. But I also met a few people that made me feel honored to be working with them, and some people that made me feel special by just being myself…which is deep. There were a few moments that really stood out. There was man named Rom; I was shocked at how young he was. Most of the people there were in their 60’s+, but Rom seemed to be in his 40’s. He could barely talk, but he could completely take care of himself, yet most of the time he just sat there and starred off into space. He was really nice, and his favorite activities were the ones that included music. He wouldn’t participate, but he would tap his toes and give occasional nods of the head. I made an effort to give Rom a big smile and make eye contact every time I saw him. I would touch his shoulder when I asked him questions. During my last day I asked him a question like, “Hey don’t you love this lunch?” He said, “Yeah,” and he smiled. I felt really lucky. There were one or two other stories like this. Like Mirabella, she wanted to dance. She tried to stand up and the staff immediately rushed to her side and told her she had to dance in her seat. When the music activity was over I put on Mirabella’s favorite song, and very sturdily one of the staff members and Mirabella danced across the room, it was amazing. The stuff movies are made of. So success.

I did an interview with a director of public policy for one Planned Parenthood’s affiliates. I went into the experience feeling really important and humble at the same time. Planned Parenthood is an organization that I owe a lot to, and to top it off a segment of “Talk of the Nation” came on while I was driving there. It was about Planned Parenthood’s government funding. This was right before the almost government shut down and the Republicans were asking for as many cuts as possible to the budget. They seemed like they would not settle until the Democrats gave in to all of their demands. Ugh. (So here is my little rant: Look, us regular people suffer and struggle enough in this country just to earn a living, can you please leave social security, Medicare, Medicaid, funding for Planned Parenthood, etc alone?! If you really think we can’t afford it just let the Bush tax cuts expire and cut a little defense for crying out loud! But whatever. Opinions are like assholes, right Dad? Love you by the way.) So what I learned from this woman was that she was fighting to protect women’s access to reproductive healthcare services every day, and not only can I personally thank her for her efforts, but I can appreciate the influence she has, and how many people unknowingly depend on many social workers just like her. It made me feel vindicated in choosing this major. So again, success. I was hoping to get a mentor out of this experience; I still got an amazing interview and glimpse into the real story of the other side of the argument. But I still no mentor, so failure there.

I also haven’t made too much headway in the “getting more attractive” department. Shocking. I knew out of everything this would be my biggest struggle. Nowadays everyone has their own Vietnam, and mine is food. I once heard at a Weight Watchers meeting that “our genes are our tendencies, what we do is our destiny.” Well right now my destiny is to be a slug, a slug that was caught eating a chocolate covered macaroon at her desk today by an attractive person. So without further adieu, big FAILURE there. We’ll see how that measures up.

And now I am sitting here, trying my damndest to study for this final, meanwhile there is a huge wedding celebration going on in the backyard of the Garden Club of Virginia, directly behind my apartment. All the big band wedding classics have been blasting from the mediocre audio equipment for the past 3.5 hours. When I heard the music go down and someone take the microphone to make a speech I had to listen. I frantically ran around my apartment looking for my keys (I have a tendency of locking myself out of places.) I eased out of the back gate to catch an inconspicuous listen to the maid of honor and the best man impart their words of wisdom onto the bride and groom. The MOH went on about God and readings from the Bible while I gave Hasha a threatening eye as she tried to sneak past my blockade of pj pants and a half lit cigarette. Then the best man took the stage, got all of the laughs, and talked about how he had been friends with the groom since they were four years old. Once during college they went hiking, and he came to a realization that one of them would get married one day. My air conditioner kicked on and I couldn’t hear anymore. (It might sound creepy that I am spying on other people’s weddings, don’t worry, it isn’t.)

The best man’s words got me to thinking about epiphanies. Sudden realizations of truth. I took the only step I could think of, and now I’m here waiting for my sudden realization of truth. I wonder where the future will lead me here in Richmond and long after that. Will I be as influential as a director of public policy? Will I wind up like Rom or Mirabella? Will I ever shut off my tv on dvd long enough to get a little hotter and a lot healthier? I’m a professional at avoiding truth, especially if it allows me to be lazy.

I don’t know how the successes and failures are going to measure up, but I do know that a dear friend of mine foolishly let me borrow four straight seasons of Lost. Tv on dvd - a blessing and a curse.

Still trying to “be one of the things that life just won't quit,”

-Rosa