Love… the ever splendored thing. The thing that songs and poems are written about. The thing that people live for. The thing that people die for. “The thing”.  Fitting actually. *cue creepy sci-fi music here*

When I was 21 years old, and in an exciting new relationship, I was trying to think up a screen name for my email address. I came up with “Jazzeykitten”. I thought “Jazz Cat” at first (jazz being probably my top favorite genre of music), but then I felt that I would sound like an old black man with a Yahoo, Xanga, Myspace, Facebook, and later on a Twitter account. Finally I settled upon Jazzeykitten. It sounded… jazzy. Happy. Free. And even just the slightest bit cuddly.

10 years later, and I’m “Jaded”. During my divorce proceedings earlier this year, I even questioned my divorce attorney about how hard it would be to change my last name to Giada… which means “Jade” in French.

Today, I’ve been surrounded by conversations about love. Steeped in love. Or the hate of love. The whole love/hate garbley gook that I often find myself at a loss of words for. I supported friends during their struggles with love as best I could… ya know, being jaded and all. I remember taking notice of a friend of mine earlier today when he got a distant and sad look in his eyes, and I knew. I just knew that the look splayed across his face… yes, even this was love. Wuv. Twue wuv.  But my question and answer to the conversations over the course of the day has been, “Why? Why do we do this to ourselves?” Okay, well, I mostly thought it, but I did ask that question of one friend. She couldn’t even look at me she was so pissed off, and her eyes were glazed as I held myself back from pulling her to me and holding her as she said, “Why?” and she shook her head sadly. “I love him. I do. I just love him.”

And I wonder if it’s ever easy. I have cried. I have begged. I have given my all. I have fought tooth and nail. I know I’m no different than most people. I hear people say so flippantly, “It’s love. It’s supposed to be easy!” Heh. Give me a break. It is indeed love.Fleeting, stupid, nefarious, infamous love.


The Most Effective Way To Make A Man Change

I’ve found myself in a situation that I said I wouldn’t be in again for a very long time. I’m in a relationship. *smacks forehead* And I have been now for a year. A year, 24 days, 13 hours, 32 minutes… Ok, I don’t know all of that, so a year will suffice.

After my 10 year relationship, marriage, and ultimately a divorce, came to an ugly end, I found myself repeatedly saying to myself, “I will NEVER.” or as my sissy likes to say, “Neva.” This proclamation encompassed many things. “I will never let anyone hurt my feelings again.” “I will never let anyone else make me unhappy”, “I will neva clean up after or wash a man’s underwear and socks.” And the list goes on.

Because of my many “NEVA“‘s… my hand is twitchy. It wants to reach for the door and my mind wants to scream at me “Run, Forest!” There are plenty of times that I find myself wanting to dissect everything that a man says or does, and I don’t even feel like I look for negatives. They just pop up like I’m playing a game of bobbing for apples. And I know I’m hypersensitive. I’ve just become so jaded.

One of my greatest strengths, as well as one of my greatest weaknesses, is I can love. I can love hard. Then I’ll find that I’m irritated with myself for being able to give that fully and completely. Like I shouldn’t give that much of myself and I should hold some of it back. Then I brace myself against possible hurts, and I let my heart stay calloused.

I find fault in my boyfriend’s actions and words. Sure, there is plenty that he says and does that I’ve felt I’m within my rights of being irritated or pissed off, because after all he is a man, but on the other hand I want to condemn him and be harsh and cruel because of things that have been done to me in the past. I ask myself if he’s going to change enough that I’m totally happy. No. He won’t. I know the answer. And it’s not his fault. I know that the change is mine to make. I know that I can not continue to punish for the times that I’ve been hurt.

“Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change.”
Wayne W. Dyer