nakedjen

Speaking of Cowboys...

Were we not just speaking of cowboys?  I think we were.  Maybe not here, but we definitely were.  Speaking about them, that is. 

Sam Shepard and I were talking about writing plays.  About character development.  About how you find the essence of your characters perhaps in the way they walk or the way they hold their cigarette or even in just the way they chew their food.  That it is that one quirk, that small thing, that can spark the entire reason for that character to be in your play. 

(What, you didn't know Sam and I were friends?)

I begged him to please shower me with some Sambrilliance, as I call it, so that I could perhaps finish the play that has been sitting unfinished on my laptop for what feels like ages and ages and ages.  I know, yes of course I know, that if I would stop blogging and journaling and actually just sit and WRITE THE DAMN THING (as the brilliant Sam reminded me) I would actually finish it, but then, well, what would become of Nakedjen the blog? 

Of course at that point Jessica Lange chimed in and things got very steamy.  Because, well, I can not resist Jessica.  That voice.  Those eyes.  That hair.  It was just all over.  Plus it's hot here.  The kind of hot that just makes things charged and quite sexual.  So things led to other things that led to us all being naked. 

(Of course we were naked.  It's me!  We're going to get naked!)

Now not that I didn't enjoy that part of it, but honestly, it's the Sambrilliance that really attracts me much more than the Sampenis.  Seriously.  I know, I know.  There are many of you shaking your heads at that.  But let's remember that I am a girl who has read, no voraciously consumed is more appropriate, every single word that Sam has ever written.  Every.single.one.  I've taken Master classes with him.  I have made a point to see all of his productions.  Here, there, everywhere. 

(I know you're thinking we need to lock me up in a padded cell.  That Sam needs protection from me!)

While Jessica was having her post-coital cigarette, I was right back to mining Sam's brain.  Asking more questions.  Begging him for more answers.  Write about what I know, of course.  Cut.Cut.Cut.  Never use more words than necessary.  And never be afraid of the long pauses, the silence, the dark.

The other evening, while the Architect and I were sharing a bottle of wine (that's becoming a common theme around here, isn't it?) he asked me to please choose two or three of my favorite plays by Sam Shepard and give them to him to read.  What my heart did in the moment of that request I'll just let you all guess.  I know you can guess.  I don't think even I was prepared for what my heart did in response to that request!

The tragic part of this is that during the divorce sale in a moment of true madness I actually sold my entire Sam Shepard collection save for one play.  One play!  What on earth was I thinking?  Well, obviously, I was not thinking.  I was distraught, I was morose, I was operating on auto-pilot and jettisoning my entire previous existence as quickly as possible.  Sam Shepard was sold for a quarter along with everything else.

So to share my most favorite playwright of all time in all the world with the Architect, I have to replace all those books.  Yes, replace them.  I could, yes, just go to the library which I'm sure has its own collection of Sam Shepard.  They must!  However, I'd rather own them all again.  I know, I know.  I sold them all for a quarter.  Now I'm buying them all again.  That's the insanity of divorce!  I'm even buying some of them from a used bookseller in Santa Cruz.  If I get my OWN copies back, I'm just going to laugh and laugh and laugh.

Meanwhile, I think I'll share my own play with the Architect.  The one Sam helped me with.  And see what he has to say about it.  It does have a cowboy.  And weren't we speaking of cowboys?

True Love Will Never Fade

So for those of you whom are keeping track (Is anybody keeping track any more or have you all just plain given up?  I certainly wouldn't blame you if you have.  No, not me.  Not at all.) yesterday, Thursday, 26 June 2008, would have been my eighth wedding anniversary. 

As was already documented here, I spent a lot of the day hassling with rude technical service providers from Qwest.  Certainly not the way I would have probably spent my anniversary had I still been living in Santa Cruz and still been married to David.

But...and this is a rather large but, a but that is perhaps of gargantuan proportions at this point and would not even fit in size extra extra extra extra large clown pants even if we pushed and shoved and put it on a diet it is such a large but (and yes, I know we need another t for that kind of but, but this is my blog and if you want to have the extra t, go get your own blog and put the extra t there) I am no longer married to David and more importantly I am no longer living in Santa Cruz and I now live in Utah where I am subject to dealing with inept and rude technical service representatives who I am not sure ever even graduated from the first grade.

Ahem.

There's an even bigger but than that.  That is that my love for David, despite living in Utah and despite not being married to him and despite having to deal with rude technical service representatives just to ensure that I have a connection to the Internet (not that that really has anything to do with being married to David or not, but I was already discussing it so I'm keeping it for continuities sake) has not faded.  Not really. 

I'm guessing that I've reached that point in the grieving or healing or whatever you want to call it process called acceptance?  Is that what we call this point?  Where I just plain love him anyway?  Not in a romantic, gushy, princess bride I can't possibly live without him kind of way.  Oh no, not that.  But in a genuine, I love him, he's a decent person, I shared a lot of myself with him, I don't wish him anything but the very best, kind of way.

That kind of love.  Genuine heartfelt love. 

Still, this wouldn't be a decent blog entry if we didn't have some drama, right?  Or are you all over the drama?  Shall I save it for my mama?  Probably should. 

However, I'm going to spill it anyway.  Oh come now.  You knew I would.  You all are sitting there ticking the box saying, "Still needs her meds.  Make sure she sees shrink!" 

It's just teeny weeny drama.  I didn't even vomit or bang my head.

David and I spoke on the phone.  Yesterday.  We chatted about our anniversary among other things.  I hung up.  I burst into tears. I sobbed.  I had to cancel my well-laid plans for the evening. 

Why?

I do not even know. 

Perhaps it is the last remnants of the purging process. 

Or, perhaps it is because true love will never fade. 

You Can't Make This Up

Nakedjen:  I'm having difficulty getting onto the Internet.
Qwest Technical Representative:  Are you on the Internet?
Nakedjen:  If I was on the Internet, do you think I'd be calling you to say I was having difficulty getting onto the Internet?
Qwest Technical Representative:  Have you entered your username and password?
Nakedjen:  Yes.  Of course.
QTR:  What did you enter?
Nakedjen:  jen8677@qwest.net  and twqYNxKz
QTR:  And how did you spell qwest?
Nakedjen:  You're joking, right?  Qwest
QTR:  Please exit out of the program.
Nakedjen:  Okay.  I've done this a lot already today. 
QTR:  Do what I say.  Please. 
Nakedjen:  Look, please don't get snippy with me.  I've been without DSL or Internet access for 4 days.  I work from home.  I would just like this to work.
QTR:  Exit the program.
Nakedjen:  I did.  Now what?
QTR:  Please go to the Start button and choose the My Computer Icon.
Nakedjen:  That's not going to work.  I'm on a Mac.
QTR:  Well, that's the problem.  You were stupid to buy an Apple.
Nakedjen:  Sir, I don't think the issue is with the computer.  I think the issue is with the DSL modem.
QTR:  It's the Apple.  It's always the Apple.  Call Apple.  Get them to help you.
Nakedjen:  Until Tuesday, everything worked perfectly.
QTR:  Right.  Then your Apple screwed it all up.  Safari needs to be replaced with a browser that actually works.
Nakedjen:  I am using Firefox.  Also, when I ping the Modem there are no issues.
QTR:  It's the browser.  It's the computer.  Call Apple.  I can not help you.
Nakedjen:  Sir.  This is YOUR modem.  I am paying Qwest for DSL service.  Why should I call Apple?
QTR:  Do you have any other computers in your house?
Nakedjen:  No.  Just this one.
QTR:  You've screwed yourself.  Go buy a PC and then call us back.  I can not help you further.   Goodbye.

I wish I was making that up.

Obviously, though, I got the modem to work.  No thanks to the folks who work in technical service at Qwest. 

Here's what I did.

I am a very electrical person.  I know this.  The whole reason I have a Mac instead of a PC is because I make PC's implode just by standing near them.  This has been proven over and over again much to the dismay of many of my former employers.  For some reason, Macs are better able to handle my electrical force field.

However, I also know that I can and do sometimes create havoc with new technology.  Especially wireless technology.  So while the technical representative from Qwest kept insisting that it was my fault for purchasing an Apple and that it was just not going to work, I figured that everything just needed a little walk around the neighborhood.

Yes, like a dog. 

I shut down my trusty Apple (which, by the way, just came back from the Apple store with $900 in new parts...because...well...Mercury went retrograde and things got a little wonky...at least that's what I think happened....) and took the battery out.  And I unplugged the new modem and removed all the wires and I took the battery and the modem for a walk.  Around the block.  So they could have some fresh air.  And forget about NOT WORKING and instead think long and hard about working.  For me.  Because I really do need them to actually work or I'm not going to actually get any work done while I sit here in my very hot house (oh, don't get me started about how hot it is in Utah...EXTREME WEATHER STATE) and not getting any work done will mean I can not pay my rent and then Buddha and Stella and I will have to pitch a tent at Memory Grove or something and boy will that be awkward because I don't think the architect is going to let us move in with him as our relationship just isn't quite like that if you know what I mean and anyway I took the battery and the modem for a walk around the block.

When we returned I put the battery back in the laptop.  I plugged all the necessary wires and what nots into the modem.  And then I said a little prayer to the goddess.  Because, as I said, I really needed all of this to work.  And I wasn't about to call those folks at Qwest back again and give them the satisfaction of telling me that I suck because I bought an Apple. 

Once the prayers were said to every deity I could possibly conjure, I plugged the ethernet cable into the laptop.  And guess what?  All those lights on the modem?  All the ones that flickered and sputtered and spat at me and refused to turn green? 

They turned solid green like I had hit the jackpot in Vegas!

Not only that but that pesky web page that had refused to load and had caused my grouchy Qwest Technical Representative to insist that my browser was BROKEN loaded right away.  I entered my username, my password and then with a chorus of angels singing was connected to the Internet.

Where I am still connected.  Because Mr. Qwest Technical Representative, I obviously do not suck and my Apple actually rocks.  So there.

The next time you find yourself needing technical support from Qwest, take my advice.  Take the battery for a walk around the block instead.  It's far more helpful and far less disparaging. 

The Exquisite Corpse

It's the summer solstice, which is, perhaps, my most favorite holiday of the entire year.  I woke up at dawn today and gave blessings and thanks and gratitude for the sun.  The sun that continues to shine, continues to make me smile, continues to brighten my days even when they're covered up to my eyeballs in snow!

I am happy to report there is no snow in Utah today.  Well, wait.  There's snow.  Of course there's snow.  I'm not sure there are any days in Utah when there is no snow.  But there is no snow in Salt Lake City today.  It's warm, actually.  Quite warm. 

Last night, the architect and I had a marvelous evening enjoying art and fine food on a patio overlooking the city.  We also shared my final bottle of The Exquisite Corpse.  Internet, this is perhaps my most favorite wine ever.  The 2003 vintage from my beloved Bonny Doon Vineyards is, as it claims, exquisite.  I bought a case of this wine and last night I happily shared my final bottle with The Architect. 

But, alas, it was my truly my last bottle.  And now?  Now, of course, because I am me and my name has always been Jennifer "I WANT" Neal, I want more.  Not to drink today, of course.  Please do not think that my move to Salt Lake has resulted in me becoming a lush that sits on her ass on patios and drinks wine with hot architects. 

Oh no.  That's not it.  (Quiet in the back row, please.  I hear you snickering and whispering and saying that of course that's all she's been doing since she arrived in Salt Lake City).  No, seriously.  I don't even really drink wine that often.  But the thought that I may never drink The Exquisite Corpse again?  Preposterous!

I spent last night online searching, searching, searching for more of this wine.  It was, yes, probably because I had just drunk the wine and was, well, a tad tipsy.  One hour turned to two hours of searching that resulted in not one single bottle.  Zip.  Zilch.  Zero. 

EEP!!!

My dearest, wonderful, internet.  Perhaps you'll have more luck?  I'm hoping that you will.  I want another case of this wine.  2003 Bonny Doon Vineyard Primitivo Exquisite Corpse.  There is none better.   If you manage to find it, please tell me where I can purchase it.   Because, as I said, me being me, I really would love another case.  Help a naked girl out!

Then I can be naked, sit on my ass on the patio, eat fine food, adore the art on the walls and oogle the architect.  What, I ask you, could possibly be better than that? 

I'm Nakedjen and I Still Speak For The Trees

Remember when I did this?

And I wrote all about it here?

I have wonderful news to share with you today. 

Despite what the mainstream media and those folks at UC Berkeley might have you believe the junction that forbids them from chopping down those beloved trees of mine, those trees that spoke to me on that night so many nights ago, stands!

The trees stand.

It is truly a David vs. Goliath story.  But for now?

The trees shall remain.

And one naked girl in Utah will continue to speak for them as long as her voice can shout!

Where It Stops, Nobody Knows?

All of you think I'm just having a grand old time here at the beach with my family and cousins and cousins of of cousins that I didn't even know I had. 

But the last 48 hours have been one crazy ride!

In case you missed it on your local news.  I'm certain all the stations have picked this story up.  Not every day you have a naked woman trapped on a carnival ride at the boardwalk, now is it?

 

Overheard...

Gay Guy Number 1:  Well, they did a great job with the clothes.  And that closet?!  Oh my god, the closet?!
Gay Guy Number 2:  But why oh why was Samantha stuck in California?  I mean, she is NEW YORK.  That was just a ridiculous part of the movie.  I hated it.  I AM Samantha.  And as hot as Smith is?  I am not hauling my sweet New York ass to California for him.  It was all wrong. 
Gay Guy Number 3:  Do you really think Carrie would have married Big after all?  Did that part work for you?  I don't know that I would have taken him back?  Oh but that Vivienne Westwood dress?  Oh.My.God.  Give me some of that, please.  I am so wearing that for Halloween this year.  The entire outfit.  Only I'll work it even better.  Wait until you see the bird in MY hair. 
Gay Guy Number 4:  I really thought Charlotte was the best in the whole film.  That she was actually the most believable.  And I love that she finally had a baby.  And her face when she was yelling at Big.  I wanted to shout at him with her...
Gay Guy Number 2:  Oh, no.  It was Miranda and Steve.  I mean, come on.  Miranda has always been such an uber bitch.  Just like me.  I would have kicked him to the curb, as well.  Not sure I would have met him on the bridge.
Gay Guy Number 1:  Wait.  Wait.  I'm Miranda, not you.  You're so much more Charlotte.  I'm the lawyer!  I'm the one who writes all the pro/con lists.  Hello, I even have a kid!  I AM MIRANDA!
Gay Guy Number 3:  The light has changed.  We can cross the street.
Gay Guy Number 1:  Not until you all agree I'm Miranda.
All the other Gay Guys:  All right.  You're Miranda.
Gay Guy Number 2:  Now hurry up your Manolos and get your sweet tight ass to the beach.

And that, my friends, is the conversation between four very gay men who are obviously very good friends that I overheard whilst waiting for the traffic light to change so I could cross the street. 

He Said, "I Will", She Said, "I Do" And I Said, "We Have A Marriage!"

Presenting Amanda and Jim.  They did it.  It was an honor helping them make it truly official.

And my dress stayed put.  Until later, of course.  Because I can't seem to go to a wedding, without getting naked.  Or the beach, apparently.  Both together...well...

The Officiant, Cousin of the Bride, Was Naked

This weekend I am the officiant for the wedding of my youngest cousin, Mandy.  She's getting married to her love, Jim.  Our entire family is gathering for these beloved nuptials on the beach in Delaware.  Not just any beach, either.  It's a beach where each and every single one of us first put our toes in the sand and learned to swim in the ocean.  Where we all slathered on Bain de Soleil without a care or knowledge of the dangers of the sun and spent all summer long getting our hair a little blonder and our fair Irish bodies in a rotation from cooked lobster red to freckled speckled brown.

It's been a long time since the whole family has gathered.  No one has died, fortunately, but that means that there hasn't really been a compelling reason to gather.  We're all so flung about the country that we use that as an excuse for not getting together.  It's a very poor excuse. 

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of our huge family gatherings just to celebrate a birthday.  One of us turning 3 or 4 or 5 years old and everyone else gathered with a paper hat, a noise maker, blindfolded to pin a tail on a donkey! 

Or together, spread across the beach, everyone on a different towel or blanket or under an umbrella, all eating sandwiches from the cooler and insisting that our parents give us money to get soft serve ice cream cones and to ride all the rides on the boardwalk.

I have a feeling there are soft serve ice cream cones and some spin art and boardwalk rides in my very near future. 

I am in a bit of a quandary though.  I have nothing to wear.  Nada, zilch, zero.  I have a closet full of lovely designer clothes that do not fit.  I put on the dress I thought I would wear for the ceremony today and it fell right off.   Out popped my boobs and the dress was down around my knees.  Not a very pretty look, let me tell you.

So what I'm wondering is this? 

All eyes will be on the beautiful bride, right?  So no one will notice if the officiant is actually naked.  At least that's what I'm hoping.  Because even if I do wear that dress?  It's going to be right around my ankles by the time they say "I do!"  And I'm going to have to leave it at the altar so I don't trip and bang my head while I walk back down the aisle!

Utah...It's Not So Bad

i'm leaving santa cruz today. and i feel like coming back here was visiting my "old" self in a way, if that makes any sense at all? i'm not that person anymore but there were definitely people here who wanted to squeeze me back into that box. and there's so much HISTORY here that just doesn't feel so good to put back on and try to wear around town.

i love santa cruz. i always will.  but i think i have some more purging to do. and i know, most definitely, that i'm not ready to move back. not that this is "dave's town" but it certainly isn't a place i want to be right now. really. i mean that.

i walked on the beach yesterday for hours. with one of my best friends from the dog park. me, him, his beautiful and happy dog. we talked. we laughed. it was good medicine. but at the same time, i ached for my snow covered mountains in salt lake. which says something. it really does.

would things be different if buddha and stella were here with me? perhaps. but maybe not? my heart is definitely hurt and my head is definitely confused.  my therapist is definitely in my future.

i'm not regretting the visit in any way. i know i needed to come. i know i also needed to face the things i did while i was here. and get some of my romantic notions about santa cruz out of my head. that has definitely happened.

utah...it's not so bad, you know? i really mean that.