"Meanwhile..."

Nice honey. You take a screenshot of me as revenge for me posting a funny one of you on this blog. Little did you realize... 

...you were counterproductive.

Let's hope someone says yes, and soon

Remember how in my last post I made the word "excited" my bitch? Well, that was because I was genuinely excited about my mom's daycare. Y'see, I didn't think it would be difficult to get people to invest in the business because my thoughts fell specifically on my grandfather and my uncles, all of whom make excellent money. What I didn't think about was that they all tend to keep it to themselves, which is sad, because my mom didn't exactly have the best childhood, so the least they could do is make up for all of the shit they put her through as a child and help her achieve her dream as an adult.

Of course, they don't and won't see it from her perspective. I can't imagine what it must be like to be abandoned over and over and over again by your family. I've heard a plethora of horror stories from my mom and aunt about how they were treated when growing up. My mom moved away from home when she was sixteen-years-old, because she couldn't stand to live under the same roof as my grandfather anymore. That's really young guys. I moved out to go to school when I just turned eighteen, which is a ripe age in my opinion. The mentality gap between sixteen and eighteen is huge. You can learn a lot about the world in two years, but I'd imagine that my mom had been fantasizing about moving out since she hit the double digits, so I don't blame her for packing her bags so early.

Grandpa didn't seem to mind. He was ready with the paint buckets the moment she walked out of the door.

From my perspective, it is really hard picturing this loving grandfather as the person who torments my mom. Ever since I was born, I've loved him and have been loved in returned. He nurtured me, cared for me, and always made sure to give me a hug and kiss before every goodbye. But when I found out his true, hateful nature, I never viewed him the same again.

People don't completely change. I've learned that the hard way.

Back to the point. On Easter my mom was preparing herself to approach my grandfather in hopes that he would take an interest in the business that she has always wanted. She brought it up gently, mentioning how amazing the building was and that she would love for him to check it out if he had the time. But immediately, without second thought, the topic was dismissed. He deliberately changed the subject to show just how disinterested he was in helping her. When she turned to my grandmother, she shrugged and told her that my grandfather doesn't like getting involved in family's financial affairs. My aunt, who had witnessed what had happened, was not surprised. No one was. Not even my mom.

But later that night, when everyone had left and we were cleaning up, Mom seemed sluggish and had a hard time smiling. I immediately knew what was wrong and I'm sure I made it worse with my open rants about Grandpa, which I suddenly regret now. In my defense, watching the woman who birthed me's dreams slowly begin to deteriorate because of the man that made her life a living hell years ago just tore me apart. I was furious at my grandfather, who only uses his money to update his electronics and lets the rest sit in his bank account until grandma goes on one of her huge shopping sprees, which is usually like every week. It's selfish, just selfish. (Or maybe I'm being selfish. It is HIS money, but come ON). Oh, and I'm sure he'll expect Father's Day to be a big event that revolves around him. He's pretty needy on his birthday too. It's sad.

I'm glad I live an hour away from he who used to be my neighbor, because I don't know if I could hold my tongue around that man. But my mom, over time, seems to be more and more content with his answer.

"It's okay," she reassured. "When the zombie apocalypse happens, he'll be running to my door, and the first thing I am going to say is, 'So you need me now?'"

Oh Mom. I really hope someone helps you. I'd hate to have a heap of dead family members at our door when zombies inhabit the earth.

Delusion: The human condition? {Guest post}

Hello, Hello! I'm Taylor from Blonde Girl Lava Dog World. Documenting the Delusional is such a great blog, and I'm honored to be here. =)

Delusional: noun \di-ˈlü-zhən, dē-\A persistent false psychotic belief regarding the self or persons or objects outside the self that is maintained despite indisputable evidence to the contray.
Sounds a little harsh, huh?

It is my belief that we are all delusional.

And if anyone tells you any different... they are a liar.

No, just kidding. =P

Let's break this down.

 Our whole perception of life is delusional. Typically the plan goes: finish school, get married to prince charming, and have lots of beautiful bouncing bubbly babies, and live happily ever rocking in white rocking chairs and croak watching the sunset, right? First off, if you manage to fit all of this into your deck of cards in this day and age, you're pretty amazing. Second, if you do it in this order you practically have the perfect life, don't you?

Nope.

P.S. If you have hit the rocking chair part, e-mail me please.We are constantly planning our lives out for weeks, months, and even years. When we make these plans we rarely consider or know what this world will throw at us.

I can tell you that I never planned on changing my major. I never planned on falling in love much less with a marine. I never planned on moving to Texas especially without thinking about it. I never planned on planning to get married. You might have to think that one through. Everything I ever imagined for my life has fallen apart, but it's given me the opportunity to create a more beautiful one.

Life is so uncontrollable and unpredictable that it's impossible and delusional to make plans, but some of the most unexpected things in life happen to be the best things.

So, maybe being delusional isn't such a bad thing.

A degree shouldn't trump happiness

Holy frig I've got so much to tell you, but my brain is being manhandled by the sound of plastic wheels against tiled floor accessorized with the wails of screaming children. A closed door cannot contain the madness. I haven't resorted to anything extreme just yet, but I assume that it will happen shortly. How my mother runs an in-house daycare is beyond me. How I have managed to keep my sanity since I moved in in January is also beyond me (apparently delusion is hereditary). You do not know what it is like to wake up to five screaming children at 7:00 on a Friday every week. Okay maybe you do. Thank the heavens she finally found the perfect building to start her daycare in.

...Let's hope I don't jinx it by posting the potential this building has on the internet. The web has the power to make or break you by harnessing the power of shit cloud, so I am really taking a chance on this one to tell you the details. You're welcome.

The other day, me and the parental units went to take a tour of an old firehouse down the highway that was up for lease. The first image that came to mind was a crowd of two year olds falling down the fire pole, so I thought the effort was doomed at the start, but I kept quiet. No reason to spoil it over the idea of dead babies... they are my mother's dreams guys. MY MOTHER'S DREAMS.

Gaping hole in the floor not suitable for children, or anyone really.

My fears were silenced when we saw the building. It was perfect, and I couldn't help but start visualizing the flow of children from one room to the other, me behind the desk, raking in the doe, looking all professional and shit. (I see a Mac desktop and more screaming children in my future!) Madre was even more excited. She was practically shaking with happiness, but Dad had warned her on the trip there not to scream for fear she would ruin his chances at negotiating prices. The man has mad haggling skills, I can't deny it. So the three of us toured, dreamed, and kept our outward expression to a minimum until we were safely in the car. Then the top of the truck blew off from the mushroom cloud of pent up elation being released.

"Jess! You and me, together! We're going to do this!" she said.

"DUH!"

...Just one problem ladies: University. (And wasn't I just complaining about noisy children?)

Alright. You got me. But that is why I am here, explaining this to you, because this dilemma was driving me up the wall. Let me ask you a question: "What would you do if you discovered the perfect job with the perfect salary and the perfect boss, but you'd only be hired on if taking on a nine to five shift everyday, but you are already a full time student (which you hate being with a fiery passion)?

Wouldn't most choose their education?

I must clarify something. To those of you who aren't aware, I am an English major with a Creative Writing emphasis, which makes me destined for teacherhood, a place I'd prefer to avoid going to. I'd rather freelance, blog, and do my own thing writing-wise, but that does not exactly bring in money (neither does teaching, but that is a dilemma all on its own). Hence the name of this blog.

I digress.

Let's consider the next stage of this frustration. Let's say I quit going to school and work for Mom. Michael is going to move here next month. If anything, I'd want to move in with him if school wasn't holding me back! So would it make sense to quit school and choose to work in a daycare instead of starting my life with Michael? What is a girl to do? I have been programmed to believe that attending college is my only gateway to success and opportunity, things I'd love to obtain... without a diploma. School has become this redundant chore that I find no joy in and that I've come to resent, and over time it has occurred to me that wasting years of my life trying to obtain a degree that is virtually useless to me in the long run is a huge a waste of time, especially if it does not make me happy.

Basically, I do not enjoy being a full time student with little options and little cash. So I approached my mom later about what it is that I am supposed to do, fearing the anticipated "no" and the expected cold shoulder. Surprisingly, the discussion went pretty well, and we both agreed that my best option at the moment is to invest my time in what could potentially be a family franchise. I could always continue with school later, if it suits my fancy. After she left the room, I felt like I could actually, for once, breathe.

Since that discussion, I have been dancing on cloud nine. I am happy. I've been working on standard things for the daycare, I have been buying things for Michael and my apartment on the beach, and I've been physically healthier due to the stress being lifted from my situation. Time to take care of the important things now: my health, my happiness, and my family...

...and my bank account. Never again will I have to make a box of cereal last me a week!

Simply Kate's Delusional Moment: Guest Post

Hey all of you delusional people! I’m Kate from the amazing blog called Simply Kate! I’m so excited to guest post here on Documenting the Delusional!

When I was a young girl, I had an image in my head of what my future would look like.

A woman of twenty-two with the perfect husband, the perfect job, the perfect house and of course, the perfect model looks.

And most of all; I was perfectly happy.

I mean Shirley Temple on Prozac happy.

I look back at that innocent, naïve girl and wonder just how far from that image I am now.

I will be twenty-two in less than a month and I’m definitely not where I thought I would be.

When you’re a kid, everything is handed to you. You have everything you need. And for the longest time, I really expected life to be given to me exactly how I ordered it. As if I could ask for success and a chicken sandwich and just drive through life like a fast food restaurant, easy and cheap.

That’s not how it works, and it’s taken me nearly twenty-two years to figure this out.

I’m not married.

I am unemployed.

I live with my sister.

I’m a size 14.

My life is definitely not perfect.

But I think I’m finally happy.

I’ve finally realized that if I want to get my order right, I need to get in that kitchen and make it myself. I can’t expect someone else to do it for me.

I have no idea where my life will end up. And I’m perfectly okay with that.

{Thank you to Kate for helping me fill in the void that is my blog while I begin to prepare for finals and continue to take care of my health. The blogging community was quick to respond to my plea. Go check out her blog or for the love of God I will stab you. I am stressed and not feeling too well. It would be the best for your health and mine to just do as I say.}

Michael and I: Part Two

http://imagequotes.tumblr.com/post/1703698551/via

Haven't read Part One? Click here.

When Michael found someone else, someone who wasn't me, I felt like I had let a fantasy swallow me whole and devour me until there was nothing left but this lingering, unrealistic hope that he still wanted me. My feelings for him thrived on that hope and the power it had over me remained, no matter how hard I tried to expel it, through relationships that followed soon after. That hope destroyed any chance I had at nurturing the potential each of these relationships offered. When I dated, I was distracted by the fear of getting too involved because it would ultimately leave me unavailable for Michael. What if he came to me? What if he changed his mind? Then what would be the point of surrendering to feelings I had for other people? If I surrendered, the feelings could develop... and if they developed, I would move on.

The prospect of abandoning my feelings for Mike scared me. The prospect of being happy without him scared me even more, because if I did those things, would I ever be truly happy with the question of "what if" hanging in the air, haunting me for the rest of my life?

I was torn between wanting to run away from those feelings and wanting to embrace them. It was damaging yet exhilarating because he was having the same issues, the same fears. If it wasn't apparent that we were both struggling, I don't think I would have held on as long as I did. His discomfort with me being with someone else spoke for him.

We also tried to be friends. But I couldn't stand to have him talk about Jill, which was unavoidable. It broke my heart, and yet because I wanted him to remain a constant in my life, however painful, I listened. I listened and I encouraged. I even made up a story about a bullshit dream I had that helped me realize that what I wanted was unrealistic and it had helped me to move on, just so he wouldn't feel guilty for talking to me.

Michael: You know how you said that dream helped you let go? (And it better have, or I'll whoop your ass for saying it did), well... I hope you dreamed it for both of us. Because I've been trying to move on. I'll admit that Jill's made that less than difficult, too. Trying. She...told me she loves me. She's never said it before.

J-Roll:  Does it scare you?

Michael: the phrase? I told her I loved her a long time ago.

J-Roll:  Well, you're happy. I could never attempt to ruin that for you. I won't be selfish, though I want to be. (You can whoop my ass now.) A girl like me can't get over an amazing guy in one night.

Michael:  I'm sorry. Is there any way I can help? Aside from cutting all ties here and moving to San Antonio?

J-Roll:  Y'love Jill. You should be able to talk about her.

Michael:  Well. What else is there to say? I do. I love her. So much more than I realize sometimes. I don't know how I manage to forget, though. Just looking at her makes my heart swell. And ache.

I don't remember sleeping very well that night. What I do remember is me staring at acceptance letters I had received in the mail for hours upon hours, trying to determine my next step. There, on my pillow, sat a letter from NYU and another from Texas State University, both symbolizing two milestones in my life, each with the potential to lead me in very different directions. I had wanted to go to Texas State University since I had taken a tour of the campus when I was thirteen. But going to NYU would mean that I would no longer be out of reach and faceless to Michael, that I would be an option in his life.

When I chose to attend NYU, I waited for Michael to get online the next day so I could tell him, despite my current relationship with Clause (but the guy thought his reflection more important than me, so it was easy for my feelings for Michael to derail that train).

But Michael didn't get online. I had gotten used to his frequent absences (he had a life, school, and love) and I knew I just needed to be patient. But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. By the time he got online again, he lingered for a little under than ten minutes, then logged off. Ten minutes was not enough time to explain that I wanted to give my future to him. So I asked the standard questions. You know.

"How are you?"

"What have you been up to?"

"How is Jill?"

I couldn't wait anymore. Michael was doing his part in forgetting me by staying away from his computer and I was going to do the same for the sake of my heart and for my fucking sanity. So I asked for a check and sent the tuition to the school furthest from the man who broke me. I was going to attend Texas State. I was going to move on, even if it meant blindly diving into another relationship headfirst without a second thought. 

That was how I met Norman.

To be continued.

Links are better than whiskey (...wait.)

The other night I was trekking through some older posts from last year that were the same time when I was in New York, and I had to keep myself from crying. (I made the mistake of reading my December posts first). But the further I moved into the past, the easier it was to hold back the tears. Actually, the impulse to be a whimpering little baby about missing Michael no longer had a hold over me.

The content revolved around my time in Alaska with Michael, and reading it made me realize just how happy I was when I was physically with him. You can just feel it when you read it.

I was also laughing hysterically. There is some good shit that I wrote last November, some gooood shit. So, since I am going to be lounging around in the sun today with my coworkers and have very little interesting things under my belt to talk about, I've decided to present a list of my old posts for my newer readers (and old of course) to enjoy while I catch me some rays. Hopefully you will get a kick out of them like I did. I feel like most of them are too good to sit in the past collecting dust. Feel free to comment on them, despite the dates. Be good little readers until I come back!

A Man's Perspective: The Burial Edition

They really don't Mom

The man who would die for his beer

...but I like purple!

I hope the deer were in costume too.

Lucky number three

Fleas, crabs, and mutated cells all make a J-Roll

I suddenly feel like I've popped in a movie for my children to occupy their time with as I leave the house for a bit. Hmm. Better than whiskey. Oh, Grandma.

College and the changes that ensue

I was feeling nostalgic and decided to dig through some of my old high school photos. I don't know what I was looking for specifically, whether it was for a hearty laugh or to see how much I've changed since grade school. (I've really matured over the last three years. University does that to you. It's like brain voodoo. Or all of that time efficiency and living on your own crap. That can do it.) So after hours upon hours of looking through photos (couldn't delete them from my laptop... just couldn't), I discovered something.

I haven't fucking changed at all. I'm still immature, lazy, make weird facial expressions in pictures, pretend to stick my finger up people's noses, photo bomb like a mofo, and have terrible balance while doing said things. 

I just drink a lot more.

Sometimes music beats out medication

I suddenly feel 90345780303 times better than I did before. Ladies and gentlemen, Rio declaring his love for me through the power of SONG.

This certainly takes the edge off of my fainting spells more than concentrated iron does.

The one thing I can't afford to be delusional about

It is not abnormal for a college-student-run blog to start suffering when studying becomes a constant around exam time. It is also to be expected to have less time to post when health becomes an issue. Right now, both pose as issues that have been keeping me from keeping DtD up to date, so I figure I should offer a little insight as to why my schedule no longer has post subjects written in for every other day, except for today of course, which has in all caps:

"POST ON BLOG ABOUT WHY YOU SUCK AT POSTING THIS MONTH."

See, I was diagnosed with iron deficiency anemia when I was in high school. It all started with my Algebra II class junior year. My grades were beginning to suffer because it became a chore to concentrate. I got enough sleep, I wasn't necessarily bored in class, I simply could not focus. So, like most kids in high school who can't concentrate, I was diagnosed with ADD. The medication seemed to help keep me focused for longer stretches of time, but then I began to feel weak, lethargic, and incredibly shaky. Something wasn't right. That was when I went to the doctor and had my blood drawn for testing. (Worst clinic visit ever. They poked me ten times before they were able to find a good vein. Last resort was through the top of my hand, and it hurt like a motherfucker.) A week later I got the results and I was told that my iron levels were dangerously low. I was anemic.

This anemia has been a reoccurring issue since then. I take supplements until my levels test out as normal, then I take a break (you can actually overdose on iron if you are not careful), and the anemia comes right back into my life like a weight pressing down on me, keeping me from fully enjoying life the way that I want to. When a friend asks if I want to go running, I have to pass for fear of fainting. When my dizzy spells begin to dictate what I can and can't do, I feel incredibly limited and weak.

It has been exactly a year since I started taking the concentrated iron, and I feel worse than ever. I fainted at work in front of my customers, and let me tell you, it was not something I could laugh off. I was mortified. I even had a spell in my room while sitting at my window. I was not being physical what-so-ever. Everyone and their mom agreed that another visit to the doc was necessary.

On Tuesday I traveled to San Antonio and fasted for a blood test. When I sat down with the family doctor and explained what was going on, she looked incredibly concerned and asked that I lay down for the entirety of the visit. They took an EKG (if you have never had an EKG, they make you strip and hook you up to a machine that monitors your heart, it's not something you want to get used to) and blood samples, nothing that I have never experienced before. Then she sat down with me and gave me two referrals: a cardiologist, and a neurologist. Immediately, I was terrified.

Y'see, I am not a big fan of doctors, stemming from an experience of mine last year. My Dad lost his business due to a shitty economy, so we no longer could afford health insurance. So instead, I went to a doctor on campus, someone affordable who could still help me.

"How can I help you?" he asked.

"Hi. A few years ago I was diagnosed with a severe iron deficiency and since I haven't been feeling myself lately, I just wanted to check my iron levels to see if I have improved any since then."

The man was hesitant, but performed the blood tests. When he called my cell phone and asked me to return to the clinic, I of course was concerned. "I don't think you are anemic. I think you have thalassemia."

"What the heck is that?"

"Well, your blood cells are abnormally shaped. It's like sickle cell, only this is a Mediterranean disease."

"My Mom has some Spanish in her..."

"That might be it. We need to test to make sure."

For one entire month, I was asked to return to the clinic weekly for blood tests, X-Rays, physical exams. You name it, I did it. By the end of the month, the doctor concluded that I was anemic. What. The. Fuck.

I was drained, literally.

He did, however, refer me to a cardiologist for more extensive exams, but I was broke, so that was not an option. Plus, I was way too pissed off at this doctor to continue treatments, so I abandoned the clinic altogether and just stuck to the concentrated iron. But when I went to Alaska, and was so weak, Michael was tempted to bring me to the emergency room, but me, not wanting to make a fuss, refused. However, after I fainted at work, enough was enough. So here I am: confused, weak, angry, wanting answers, and generally exhausted.

I haven't made the appointments just yet because I have not received the results for my blood test from a few days ago, and the wait is killing me.

Yes, for once, I have an excuse. On top of all of this, I have exams to study for. I will keep you updated when I can, and even entertained with some potential guest posts. If you are interested in helping me out, please email me at JessRolin@gmail.com. I appreciate all of you and your never ending support. I don't care what other bloggers claim. I have the best group of followers, period. Let's just hope that this is temporary.

Love you all,

J-Roll

Michael and I: Part One

Since the day that I was able to construct sentences correctly, I considered myself a natural storyteller. It took me a few years afterward to discover more about the stories that I wanted to tell with my first book attempts. But it wasn't until high school where the perfect story fell into my lap, one I experienced firsthand- one so worthy, that I spent years just trying to make sense of it and did not even attempt to put it on paper until I felt that my abilities as a writer were far enough along to really be able to communicate its complexities and the story itself in the manner that it deserved.

As you all well know (at least I think you do), I have been dating my boyfriend Michael for almost a year now, but what your perspective of the relationship lacks keeps you from knowing the real truth about what life was like for the two of us just a few years before we had met face to face last June, 2010.

I would first like to say that when I was introduced to the internet, I didn't make a conscious decision to spend the majority of my time and future love life on it. At first I found it to be really intimidating and my agoraphobia kicked in during my first experience in a chat room, but my anxieties slowly subsided as I dealt with anxieties on a more social level. At school, I was the ugly, nerdy girl who had the potential to be pretty. I had cut outs of my favorite anime characters in my binders and was often referred to as "fatty" in the hallways of my middle school. Instead of watching MTV, I watched Dragonball Z. You could say that I set myself up for an antisocial lifestyle that consisted of me on the computer until the late hours of the night, every night. People understood me there. If I ran across someone that I didn't like, I could simply leave the chat or delete their username from my friends list. Life was as simple as a mouse click.

In high school, I started getting attention from the boys and became more involved in extra curricular activities, but the core of me was the same nerdy girl who was terrified of reality. My habit of living online remained consistent throughout the entirety of my time as a student, even now. I wasn't particularly fond of any of the boys at school because they all seemed to be focused more on my maturing body, rather than what it was that I had to say. Online, the interactions were anything but physical, and I liked it that way. I even became involved in a long distance relationship rooted online which lasted longer than any of the relationships I had witnessed at school. 

Douglas was kind and endearing, but fragile and often jealous of my life offline, so to speak. It was my first encounter with what I thought to be love. We had a lot in common. We were together for about a year, and throughout that year we collided with some problems often associated with long distance, but we were young and not prepared for the sacrifices. I say collided because neither of us really managed to overcome them gracefully, as in we fell on our asses and have the scarring to prove it. My feelings for Doug began to drift, and I began to distance myself from a relationship that was dominated by well, y'know.

Then Michael joined the chat, and suddenly the internet did not seem so simplistic.

He did not make it any easier for me to continue to try to make the relationship work. Actually, he unintentionally made the relationship seem like a lost cause. Out of nowhere he came, hurdling into my life like a human life preserver. At first our friendship was innocent, but the further away from Doug I drifted, the closer to Mike I became. He nurtured the side of me that was dormant, a side of me that was happier and content with who I was. I had never encountered such an extraordinary human being in my life. He was the breath that I had been deprived of through years of suffocating verbal and physical abuse from the opposite sex.


Michael: If I could reach through the screen, I would.
Jessica:  What would you do?
Michael: Hold your hand.



We talked every night religiously. I would rush home to this faceless man who made my insides twist and turn and my heart nearly work itself to death. Eventually I found that I was more than willing to give myself to Michael, and that startled me, but for once I really embraced it without a second thought. Once my relationship with Doug had dissolved, I turned to Mike and discovered that he was having a little more trouble coming to terms with his feelings.

Michael: Had to harden to survive.

Michael: Roses grow thorns, kittens learn to bite.

Jessica:  Yeah, I guess you’re right.

Jessica:  It sucks though

Michael:  One of those crappy facts of life.

Jessica:  Why do you think I am online all of the time?

Jessica:  To run away from real life and live in a fantasy for a while.

Michael: I need to start facing reality.


Michael was at war with himself. He could not make sense of how he felt about me, us. Could there even be an us? How could we make something so unrealistic a reality? I was a Texan girl, born and raised, still in high school, and he was a New Yorker who commuted to college everyday. The man was torn between wanting to love this imaginary girl and wanting to play it safe. And he did. Soon after, he met someone, and I was left staring at his offline status, wondering what the hell happened. I did not want to accept that his finding someone in New York was inevitable. He was amazing. If I could see it through a chat window, the entire state of New York surely must have seen it.

Jill must have seen it, and she had something that I didn't.

Michael is offline.
[ Last conversation: 20 days, 11 hours, 15 minutes ago]

...She had a hand to hold.

To be continued.