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It's always sunny in Mira Mesa.

Posted via LiveJournal app for Android.

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New Theme

Not sure if I'll keep it, but after 8 years I felt a new theme was in order. After all I'm in a better place than I was when I restarted my LJ, and a little colour was in order. I know it's still mostly black, and it's not totally custom yet, but I'm working on it.

I'll eventually get there.

Journal is still friends only for all the private entries, which are becoming more common.

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Testing

Trying out the Android app for livejournal and seeing if I can get back into the swing of using more than FB or Twitter and the whole microblogging schtick. I miss my therapeutic long ramblings.

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Aaron Jacob Mertens, my November Rain

I am a writer. Of all the artistic leanings I inherited from a family full of artists, my strength and adroitness was always most evident in my ability to string words together. Sometimes I write about things people don't want to read about. Sometimes I commit the faux pas of TMI. Sometimes I talk of things that make others uncomfortable, however I make no apologies for any of the aforementioned transgressions. It comes with the territory of being a writer and a blogger, and I always write with utmost honesty and with pure emotion. What I try to do is relay a story to people who are willing to read or listen, and be as accurate as possible without over embellishing the details. Much like the ladies of yore who made intricate and delicate textiles, I try to weave words in such a way that they create a beautiful fabric of a tale for someone to remember.

One thing I like to share are stories about people in my life. Maybe now one can begin to understand why I find my interactions with people very meaningful. Even if the relationship or interaction is short and brief and can be viewed as trivial when sized up against the grand span of time, believe me; nothing is trivial. Every person that we allow to get close helps shape us into what we will become.

Now that I've covered those basics, I can begin to talk about Aaron. All of this will now make sense.



It's hard to hold a candle in the cold November Rain...Collapse )

Let Him Find Himself Happy

Blow forth the winds
Bring on the rain
Let him see my face
And wash away my pain

Wisp the leaves up
Shift everything about
Let him find himself happy
And banish any doubt

I'm the one
I'll always be
Keep me in mind
Fall in love with me



I used to write. A decade ago a catalytic reaction occurred in my life that caused an upheaval of very raw and very unexpected emotion. People deal with events like that in many ways. Some turn to vice. Some turn to violence. Some turn to suicide. I turned to my notebooks, my keyboard, and LiveJournal. The event caused a torrent of creative energy to pour forth in an attempt to soothe the flames of exposed vulnerability. Writing saved me, and helped preserve the person I was underneath all the pain. I can't often read what I wrote back from those times, because I also see how fractured and fragmented I was. I hardly recognize myself. But because of events that transpired, I am who I am today, and I am grateful.

This poem was something that was borne out of that pain and the process of sifting through the hurt, the anger, and the sense of great loss. Some of my best creative writing was inspired by this muse, but I hope to never encounter her again. From mid 1999 until early 2005, I was truly broken.

Day 04 – What you ate today

Boring entry. Times are not exact.

8AM: Coffee with cream, no sugar
Slice of french bread with a pat of Danish butter and home made strawberry preserves

12:30PM: 4 meatballs and a slice of french bread
large glass of iced green tea, very lightly sweetened

8:30PM: home made mac and cheese with last night's roasted chicken
large glass of iced green tea, very lightly sweetened

-FIN-

Day 03 – Your parents

I wish I could say that I had normal parents and a normal childhood, but the honest truth is that I only had normal parents and a normal childhood for a couple of years of anonymity in the early 1980s.

The rest of the time, I had a busy childhood full of travel and moving due to my parent's choice of careers in cinema and film. Even far away from where they started, they tried to forge their way into the American film business, but Hollywood is a different and vicious animal and back in the 1980s the climate was not ready to handle the projects that my Dad was trying to push.

But at the time of my birth, my parents were royalty in Philippine Cinema.



My Mom was an actress in the Philippines. Her father was from an aristocratic and very proud and high profile family in Madrid, Spain. He met my grandmother when he was on holiday in the Philippines, where his brothers, fresh from graduating medical school in Madrid, had gone to try and forge careers in Manila shortly after the country was liberated by the USA from 400 years of Spanish rule. My grandmother, from what I understand, was a freshly widowed native beauty of Persian and Spanish descent (remember, the PI was a Spanish colony, and at one point the Moors had conquered Spain, so there is a very well documented Persian ancestry in parts of the country) with a young son, and when he laid his eyes on her the first time he was smitten. Smitten enough to defy the will of his parents, who insisted he return to Madrid and finish law school.

Mom is the youngest child of this union, which resulted in 6 children. Three boys, three girls, all good looking. Given her genealogy it's no surprise that Mom ended up being one of the most popular actresses of her day. With her chestnut hair, fair skin, and bright brown eyes, Mom lit up the screen and the adoring public soon followed.

My Dad was a groundbreaking director in the Philippines. He met my Mom during a movie shoot in which they worked together. It's my understanding that Dad was the director, and Mom was the star. Mom was freshly separated from her first husband, whom she had my brother Richard with. Much like her parents before her, my Mom and Dad hit it off so fast that within months they were living together in a civil union (divorce was not legal in the Philippines, those darn Catholics), and three years later they had me. Eight years later they had my younger sister.

Dad's Mom was an enigma. Not much is known about her early childhood because she died at such a young age, succumbing to cancer when my Dad was only 5 years old, leaving him and his 7 siblings with their grieving father. What we do know however, from speaking to my Uncle Jack before he passed, was that when he was young, his Mom would take him to Clark Air Base in the Philippines to meet up with an American airman stationed there. Uncle Jack believes that this man was her father, because she would arrive and he was very fatherly towards her. Dad remembers his Mom as having red hair and gray eyes, and Uncle Jack said that her father was Irish and his name was John Smith. This makes searching for his genealogy difficult, because how many Irish men who served in the armed forces of the USA are named John Smith? She was born in 1907, which would have made John Smith born in the late 1800s, and remember the bit about the Philippine Islands being a former Spanish colony for 4 centuries? Well John Smith was among the American forces who helped kick out the Spaniards. According to my Dad's 5 older siblings who remember her well, she was beautiful. Very fair skinned, very fair haired, petite, but fierce as hell and a very shrewd businesswoman.

She married my Dad's father, who was a mix of Filipino, Indo-Malay, and Chinese. My Dad inherited his father's intense stare and his mother's anglo features. They married when she was about 19 or 20, and had my Uncle Jack in 1928. According to Dad, his parents were very well to do, thanks to his father coming into money and his mother's gift for running a business. By the time WWII came around and the Japanese had invaded the Philippines, they had amassed an empire of several auto body repair shops and movie theaters. Dad was born in the back of one of the movie theaters with American war planes bombing the nearby province trying to flush out the Japanese.

Shortly after the war and after her death, the family fortune dwindled but Dad had been on his own by the time he was 16, shortly after his own father passed from a heart attack on the eve of New Year's in 1960. Dad set out for America after his brothers who were in the US Navy, and then when he returned to the Philippines he set to work on bringing to life some artistic cinematic projects he had swimming around in his head.

So that's my parents and my parent's parents in a nutshell. Growing up I always thought they were kind of weird, never had time for me because they were so busy pushing projects through. Dad still did documentaries and they had their own publishing company in the early 1990s and it kept the family fed and kept my parents busy.

So if you've ever seen a photo of me and wondered, "But you don't really look Filipino", well now you all know why.



Happy 14th birthday to Rome

My older babe turned 14 today.

Fourteen.

FOURTEEN.

I have been blessed with some of the greatest and purest love in the world for fourteen years, and it went by in the blink of an eye.



Where did it all that time go? And when did he grow up so fast?




My baby boy is a young man, and words cannot describe how cool he is. Words also cannot describe how much he has enriched my life and made me a better person. I cannot begin to convey to people in any sort of coherent language how much I love this guy, and only those with children of their own can begin to understand how grande the scope is. I love Jer deeply, but when I had Rome I discovered that how I felt for him was different than anything I have ever felt before.

Rome and I have a very symbiotic relationship. I need to be near him, and he needs to be near me.

But I'm proud of who he is. And I'd go through the whole difficult pregnancy with bleeding and near loss, 3 month ordered bed rest, and 37 hour labor again just to have him.

Well ok, maybe I'd skip the labor part.

I love you Rome. Happy birthday, my King of Hearts.

Day 02 – Your first love

Edit: It would help if I checked public or friends only on this entry, but I had it defaulted to private only.

I could cop out and say that my first love is the one I'm with, because Jer really is the first man I've ever felt this deeply for. He was my first in a lot of areas, and I've been with him for 18 years of my life now. That's half of my life, and in this day and age being with the same person for that long seems like a worn out and corny, sappy cliche; I don't care. I'm proud of the fact that I'm with the man I have because we compliment each other in many ways and we're really good with one another. Also, I still get that squidgy puppy love feeling in my stomach when I look at him and that's ALWAYS a good thing in a relationship.

So I'll talk about the one significant guy in my life before Jer came along.



When I was 11 years old, I went to Wangenheim Jr. High School (now Wangenheim Middle School) in Mira Mesa. It was there that I met two guys in my homeroom class. Tony San Nicholas, who was one of my best dude friends ever, and we still keep in touch; the other was Jason Shultz. In 7th grade Jason made fun of me relentlessly because I was still very boyish, and he poked fun of my flat chest. I grew to hate his guts.

Fast forward three years.

I had just returned from a stint of schooling overseas in a private, convent style Catholic school. I returned to Mira Mesa a week after I'd turned 16, and nobody recognized me. I didn't recognize anybody. You don't go from leaving before your 13th birthday to return after 3 years of puberty to faces that are instantly familiar. I was put into 11th grade, then two weeks later when my transcripts from the Philippines arrived, I was demoted to 10th grade on the bullshit excuse that I didn't have enough English or World/US History classes to meet CA state HS diploma requirements. Thanks for nothing, PI school system.

The next part reads like your stereotypical California surfer chick storytelling session, and it's intended that way. It's also easier to write it out from memory in this manner.

There was some sort of assembly held that week, and the girl I was sitting with afterward dragged me along to talk to some of her other friends. One of them was Tony, who I finally recognized and I did a total WHOA HEY BUDDY! and as we were talking about where I'd been and how the last 3 years were, more people joined us. One of them was this guy who kept looking at me and was all, hey girl you look familiar. I know you. And I was all, whatev, I have no idea who you are. My name is Jason Hill, he said. Hi, I'm Jennifer Love. He said nice to meet you. I like your boots. Then later he keeps asking me who I am, where I went to school, when did I come to MMHS. Totally hitting on me. Finally, mid conversation it hit me, and I looked right at him and said, Hey, you're that jerk that sat behind me in 7th grade at Wangenheim and gave me all sorts of shit about my tits.

I'm standing there in front of him, wearing a black mini skirt, black fishnet stockings, knee high suede boots, my favorite orange halter top, and a black fitted blazer with the see through sleeves (hey, it was 1989 so don't knock me for my fashion choices) and I understood why nobody recognized me. I also understood why I didn't know him at first by name, because he'd taken on his stepfather's surname of Hill and had dropped the Schultz. He was also nice to me.

Looking back it's probably because I had 36C breasts at 16.

Unbeknown to my parents, Jason and I dated for three weeks straight shortly after that meeting. Then we broke up and just remained friends. We didn't start dating again until nearly a year later. But this whole cycle of on again, off again dating continued for the next 3 years until I'd met Jer. He'd always break up with me, date somebody else for a bit, and I'd be the one he'd turn to when things got sour. He called me his best friend among females because I understood him and I wasn't putting any pressure on him to be anything he wasn't. I never understood back then why we were always on/off, but looking back now I'm almost certain it's because I wouldn't have sex with him. I was a virgin and that's just how it was for me in high school.

It was the reason I had so many boyfriends but would lose them a week or two later. Damn teenage boys and those stupid hormones. I always thought something was wrong with ME, and in a way there was. I was a virgin, and that's a huge problem.

Jason never seemed to really want to be serious about me. He broke up with me a week before prom and I didn't know about it until I saw him with another girl. I cried to Tony and he was a good enough man to offer to go with me so that I wouldn't have egg on my face. The only time I ever saw Jason have any "fight" about me was when I had met Jer, and I was quickly drifting away from Jason. That's the only time I ever heard Jason say that he wanted me to reconsider and stay with him.

The last time Jason and I had any face time was a month after I met Jer. I was 19, and I had put off starting college early to tend to things at home with my parents. I was working and helping pay for bills, and Christmas 1992 had come and gone and it was a really tough time. Jason drove with me to City College on the 4th of January 1993 for my assessment tests, and he kissed me in the parking lot. I saw it as a goodbye, since the spark wasn't there anymore for me. Jer and I married 6 months later.

Jason and I met up one last time in 1995. We met over billiards when I flew home to visit my parents for Christmas and sat and talked for a short while after that. He wrote me a couple of letters, I wrote back. He told me how he felt and how sorry he was that he'd let me go, and I told him that I was happy where I was and I wasn't going to leave Jer to give it another try. That was the last letter I'd ever gotten back from him.

I have not heard from him since, but I hope wherever he is, that he's doing well and has found somebody that can help keep him grounded and in line. It's the most I can ask for somebody that was, at one point, my best friend and the center of my teenage universe.

Day 01 – Introduce yourself

I was born today, 37 years ago. According to my parents, they thought I was going to be a boy and were ready to name me something hippie like Michael Sky or something along that vein. Instead, I came equipped with two X chromosomes and I was named JenniferLove. Equally hippie, but I do shave my armpits, I don't smoke pot, and I wear deodorant. So the only hippie things I do to live up to my flower child name are eat as organic as possible, be as green as possible, and be as peaceful as possible.



I have two sons. One will be 14 in two days, and the other will be 13 in two months.

I am still in college. I have an AS in Biology, and I'm going to finish the Baccalaureate degree in Biology, and then work on a Master's with a focus on Human Biology/Anatomy & Physiology. I want to teach Human Anatomy and Physiology.

Right now my field of work is in health care. It's a long story that I'll share on the day this topic is up.

I used to be found just about every weekend hanging out at any number of the local goth/industrial clubs, but when I stopped drinking and smoking I decided I needed to stay away from these venues as well because most of the time I was hanging out there, I'd imbibe a bit much and I didn't want temptation around me. I miss the music, and I miss my friends from the scene, but the scene has dried up, and most of my friends from that time have packed up and moved out of San Diego.

Speaking of San Diego, I've lived in San Diego longer than any other city I've ever lived in, so I guess you can say this is my home town. I've also lived on the East Coast, spending most of my young childhood in Silver Springs, MD. I've been told my accent is more East Coast than West Coast, but that could be due to the fact that most of my formative English speaking years were in that area of the world.

Someday I want to live in the UK. I don't think I'll emigrate there and live the expatriate life, but I have a deep love and affinity for Europe. Of all the travels I had with my family as a child, my most beloved places we visted were Rome, Italy, and London, UK. After I'm done with all my studies and I've had time to work for awhile, I plan to travel extensively and immerse myself in other cultures. I see myself as a citizen of the world, and I feel that exposure to foreign lands and cultures fosters an understanding and acceptance, or at the very least, tolerance, for things that we find strange.

I am trying to rebuild my fragmented circle of friends, since the ones I was closest to have moved far enough away that visiting every day like we used to is not possible, but with my schedule lately it makes it difficult to go out and socialize. But I do try and I'm open to meeting up with people and talking over a hot tea or coffee.

Or we can hit the gym, since I'm going to reopen my 24 hour fitness membership, but I'm warning you, I get pretty ornery and bitchy when I'm wearing less than flattering gym clothes and dripping sweat. Sorry. I will get back in shape though, I owe it to myself and my kids since I'm entering middle age and I need to steer clear of genetics when it comes to type II diabetes, cardiovascular disease, hypertension/cholesterol issues, and kidney problems.

That's it for now :)