jenz

[jenz]

Desert 365

Today marks one full year since we took a leap of faith and moved our whole ass lives down south to Joshua Tree. 

There was no way for Spencer and I to have known that a pandemic, explosion of racism, dismantling of the prison industrial complex, economic depression, lack of job security, and more would follow. We just thought a change of scenery from San Francisco was needed.

I have been reminiscing on lessons I have picked up in the past 12 months since trading in city hustle for desert life. Here is what I’ve learned so far.

1) The desert will suck you dry. I booked a massage the week after we moved down to the high desert to treat myself, and lamented about this to the therapist. She immediately put me in the mindset that to look and feel parched was certain death - maybe not the softest of introductions into my new environment, but one that has stuck with me. I changed my beauty regime to make sure my skin didn’t dry out, acquired accessories to help stay refreshed (tank tops and cooling towels FTW), and purchased bottles to take with me shopping, hiking, and driving so that I always had water (these are all different for a reason, trust me) (and double insulation is required, non-negotiable). If anything, it has been a valuable lesson in self care and precaution in order to stay hydrated.

2) There’s actual seasons in the desert. The biggest lie I believed was that it was always a balmy 75-80F in this neck of the California desert, peaking around 90F in the summer. Sounds dreamy, no? Well, because we’re at elevation, and in combination with dry heat with low humidity, it turns out it fucking snows here in the winter. We were blessed to have a white Thanksgiving and white Christmas in 2019, wherein I learned that 15F degree chill is painful when you are not wearing a bra. Thankfully the snowfall is limited to a handful of days and we’re not really ever at risk to being snowed in. Yet, I am so grateful we did not sell any of our thick, industrial snow gear. And the summers? Having now experienced highs of 115 during my first summer as a Joshua Tree resident, I have to say it’s not as bad because of that low humidity and constantly getting a breeze. Palm Springs doesn’t fare as well, since all their heat gets trapped in a canyon. But I have always been one to favor warmth, plus, the nights more than make up for dealing with scorching temperatures during the daytime. Sitting on my patio in a sundress at 9pm with no jacket is pretty baller. And the fall/spring time seasons are a true balance of hot and cold, making it the peak time to visit.

3) The desert is always actively trying to kill you. We have an inside joke that living in the desert is one of the most metal things in the world - the landscape is gorgeous, but there is also always the possibility of death. And it’s true. Humans were not really designed to live in such harsh conditions, and there’s a certain level of adaptability you have to embrace in order to endure the climate. The majority of plants down here have at least two layers of protection so that you don’t fuck with them, and much of the wildlife is always on the prowl to bite or sting you. Faced with injury and possibility of fatality, the desert has taught me more about my position in the food chain, and my place in relation to nature, way more than when I lived in a major city. And that appreciation and desire for wildlife to flourish has also helped oddly instill a sense of conservation I wish came sooner. I’ve picked up tactics to not only survive and be comfortable, but also hopefully to benefit the habitat I am lucky to be apart of. 

4) The desert will make you face some real fears and truths about yourself. This weirdly relates to the previous point. When you are left alone in an expansive, quiet space with no large visual distractions, it leads to some pretty deep contemplations about understanding who you are as a person. You are often left to your own reflection that may not have been possible amongst the noise and maelstrom of a busy city. I began to critically look at what my priorities where, what I was thankful for, and when COVID-19 hit, having the physical and emotional capacity to determine my next steps was integral for my sanity. Yet, this also had the opposite effect at moments. If you have too much time on your hands, letting your mind pounce on your previous failures, on the uncertainty of your talents can weigh deeply and feel devastating to personal growth. It wasn’t until I realized that I’d never sat down and addressed this despair and sorrow in a healthy way, at my own pace, that I could use this as leverage to cultivate change. There’s an old saying that people escape to the desert to run away from something, or to start anew. I like to think I did a bit of both.

Other micro lessons include:

Map where you’re going before driving out to your destination to make sure your car can handle soft shoulders, lest you get stuck and require someone to pull you out

Take your time finding friends, whether it’s through MeetUp, social events, or online; the older we get, the harder it is to find people, so spend the time to invest

Keep a pair of tweezers and tape nearby when you’re gardening, as you are sure to acquire a glochid in your skin 

How a whole town collectively decided they were going to really only operate between 7am-12pm is hard for a night owl like me, but I am slowly getting there

Truth be told, I don’t know how long we’ll be down here. The coronavirus has introduced a lot of uncertainty in regards to long-term plans. But, I do know the time I’ve bided so far has been some of the best months of my life, and I am grateful that we had the chance to experience the desert in all her glory.

[jenz]

A Decade Ago Today

Personal story time:

Today marks 10 years since I walked into a hospital with a baby inside me, and came out without one. I have been thinking a lot recently about what it means to have had an abortion, and want to share with you something we don’t talk about nearly enough: I am a better person for it. I don’t feel sad, or angry, or overjoyed, or devastated about the choice I made that July 2, 2010. If anything, I feel complete relief and gratitude that I had the choice to have control over my life.

In the face of everything happening in the world at the moment, there’s so much to fight for. I admit that it’s daunting to simply exist at present moment. Women’s health and a woman’s right to choose is a struggle that continually has had progress, then setback, then more progress. My abortion story is just one in addition to many, many other women out there who made a conscious decision for their mental and physical prosperity.

At no time have I ever been ashamed to share this event in my life. But it wasn’t until I started talking to friends and co-workers that I realized more of us had this in common. Abortion is stigmatic to the point of social expulsion, and I think I was weary to connect with someone even 1:1, let alone shout it from the rooftops. But today I elect to be vulnerable, honest, and open in order to say that you are not alone if you have had this procedure. And, you are not alone if you’re considering it. At all.

Regardless if you desire to begin your own family, whether that means wishing to adopt, pursuing IVF, baby making the ‘old fashioned way,’ or any other of the smattering of options on what building a “family” looks like, that is your judgement to make. If you desire to stay child free, whether or not that is by your own opinion, or you have circumstances or brutality that has been stacked against you and abortion is the best path, it is also still your choice. I will staunchly fight to protect that choice until I literally die. In case it’s not blatantly obvious, I will never change my mind about reproductive freedom.

Your health is intimately personal; no one plan or person could ever begin to cover and diagnose you 100%. You should have ALL options on the table in front of you, with professionals who are educated and courteous, in order to select the best possible outcome for your life. If anything, we need better support staff (and access to them) to help us navigate the natural emotional agency that may accompany a decision such as pregnancy - or ending one. But that is a conversation for another time that I’d gladly have with you any day.

For now, I’m here to state that I had an abortion ten years ago today, and have been reflecting on what that means, if anything. One of the biggest takeaways is that I am not a lesser person because of it, whatsoever. If you know me, then I assume your natural response to that statement is to go “Of course you’re not lesser than!” But it’s important to note there are numerous politicians, “family first” organizations, and extended family members out there who would have you believe otherwise. They are content to tell you abortion is wrong or immoral or illegal, until they need it, at which point suddenly they are the exception to the rule.

For the record, I was able to graduate college, form two careers, leave a toxic relationship, foster a marriage, cultivate a life that was fulfilling, surround myself with beloved humans, and thrive on my own terms after my abortion. Because others before me had fought for me, even before I came along, I am able to have the right to choose. However, I don’t need to explain to you how abortion “magically” enabled me for success. It’s the opposite: whether or not I could have done all of that with a child in tow is not the question you should be asking. The question should be, did I make a move that was the best determination specifically for me and my well being given everything I had considered as a possibility? The answer is yes. And if you cannot stand behind me as I endeavor to become the best possible version of myself for the world and those around me, then fuck you. Seriously. We don’t need to be friends anymore, and you don’t get to bask in my shine.

“People who got abortions were either ‘desperate or irresponsible.’ I didn’t hear any stories like mine—abortions that weren’t traumatic, that weren’t regretted or obtained under desperate circumstances, but were just young pregnant people exercising their rights to steer their own futures.”

“There are no “good” abortions and “bad” abortions, there are only pregnant people who want them and pregnant people who don’t, pregnant people who have access and support and pregnant people who face institutional roadblocks and lies.”

-Lindy West

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[jenz]

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Somehow this has been the hardest part moving away from San Francisco.

[jenz]

Chrysanthemum

I woke up two nights ago from a dream feeling paralyzed from the nostalgia it shot through my veins. In my slumber, I dreamt that I was a carnival performer, and was backstage getting ready when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to be greeted by an old flame, who bent down to give me an encouraging kiss. As he pulled away, he smiled that same smirk I recalled.

When I came back into reality, I laid transfixed in bed, stunned that this moment felt current. But I also felt a bit alarmed. That moment in the dream - the cupping of my face, the warmth I could feel in his fingers as they touched my skin, the kiss length - felt exactly like what it was when we were together. How could this kiss feel the same while being unconscious? How could something from a decade ago surface and feel so bitingly legitimate?

I let this uneasy, erotic, restless feeling dictate my day. I kept re-playing over and over the intimacy we had had; how we used to swap music discoveries, the drives we used to take, all the photo shoots I made him pose for. The way he held my hand that one Halloween, the way I used to look at him while we had dinner, the way he broke up with me after we went for pho. I remembered what my life was like then and it made me feel...unsettled. How can you be so fond and devoted and APART of someone and then just...not? Why do we allow ourselves to open up and expose the depths of our fragility, our dreams, only to have it languish?

It didn't stop there. I went deeper into my romantic history, to my first real love who broke my heart when he cheated on me, to the bartender who couldn't commit, to the serial manipulator who I swore was going to be The One. I rehashed all the beautiful and dirty and carnal and destructive things that happened in those relationships, and completely began to incapacitate myself emotionally. When you go that far down a rabbit hole, it takes a mighty force to 180 you back to your senses, and at this point, I was full speed ahead into Torture 101.

It was here I decided I was going to go visit my grandma at her final resting place. Somewhere I avoided for the last 2 years because the pain was too much to face again. Losing a loved one is always hard, and losing a person you treasured so faithfully is agonizing. So naturally, a cemetery seemed like the place to go given my emotional state. I rolled up with a potted plant in hand and just sat with her and my grandpa, trying to make sense of the complex whirlwind shitshow that was my brain. And it finally hit me that I've been tying everything - and I mean, everything - to the idea of leaving San Francisco and not being ready for change.

We're in the middle of trying to buy a house out of the city, away from friends, family, close support circles. The pace of life will be different. The resources and political sphere and climate will be wholly different. We're literally trading in city life for desert living. And for the past 2 months, I have tried to make sense of this momentous change, started keeping notes on why San Francisco is important and what it means to leave it. My ode to this beautiful city will come in its own edition. But to understand how I am leaving means I have been 150% examining what it meant to even be here. To move here a week after I turned 18, to have my memories splattered on every street corner. To follow the friends and jobs and lessons I have learned in the 17 years I decided to place roots and blossom into who I am today. I have spent my formative adult life in the City by the Bay and it changed me. It told me I was good enough and gave me opportunities to explore my passions in the arts, in community, in music. It was cruel when my friends had to leave due to the cost of living. It was welcoming every time I needed a beer or a street taco to celebrate my wins or drown my sorrows. I have, as it turns out, so much to fucking say about SF that the nostalgia has been manifesting in everything. Reminiscing about old friendships. Former apartments. And past lovers, it turns out.

I wasn't ready when my grandma died. I knew the grief of missing her would palpitate for a long time after her departure, and the sting still pierces me at times, even now. But it's been two years since she went to the stars, and...I'm OK. I ended up being fine, and the hole in my heart has now been filled with understanding and acceptance that change is something you have to deal with. How you react to it is your own choice. I loved her so much, but am happy for her suffering to have ended. And I think about how, if she were here, she'd chastise me about having blue hair and getting more tattoos and ask how I was feeling. Not what I was doing, but how I was feeling. What was I doing to feel connected and fulfilled, and, was I happy?

I'd like to think that she would be proud with me. And content to see me progress to the next stage of life with my other half.

[jenz]

Failed sandwich

Today, I didn't stand up for myself.

I was in a restaurant, waiting for my banh mi to be finished being made; I'm on the road at the moment, and finding food I can take with me is key.

The two male folks behind the kitchen counter had the Kavanaugh hearing on the TV in front of me. As I sat down to wait for my sandwich, all I could make out over the noise of blenders and metal pans were slivers of stereotypes:

"What's the point of this if it's not an official trial?"

"Why did she want this long?"

"Is she even telling the truth?"

"How much money is she after?"

When my to-go number was called, I couldn't even look the cashier in the eye, I was so fucking pissed. And by the time I got outside, I felt...defeated. We talk all the time about standing up for others, we see memes and inspirational articles about guiding those who may need some enlightenment. 'Education is key,' we say. And yet, when I was faced with an every day situation - a casual conversation about a current event - that I could have spoke up about, I froze. While these two men were talking, I thought about my friend who posted on Facebook today that she wanted people to know of her experience being sexually groomed at 16 by a 21 year old adult, and that for years she didn't say anything because she was ashamed. While these two men were talking, I thought about the three members of my family who have been raped, sexually assaulted, and stalked, and how long and expensive each of their court hearings have been to get something as simple as a restraining order, because they have to 'prove' emotional distress. While these two men were talking, I thought about the time I was working in a club and a guy tried to flirt with me, touch me, and then kiss me. When I rejected his advances, he found the house manager and said I was being rude. He brought his wife, alongside the manager, back to my station to complain about me, in front of me, like I wasn’t even there. When I pointed out he was trying to cheat on his wife without her knowing, his face dropped and her face melted in sorrow.

While these two men were talking, I thought about the text I got from the Planned Parenthood Action fund this morning, who has been doing outreach to drum up protest against the Kavanaugh nomination. Today's text was, "I'm not gonna lie, it was hard hearing Dr. Ford's testimony today. How are you feeling?"

F u c k i n g  t i r e d.

Because while these two men in front of me were talking, there are a whole pack of other men on Capitol Hill trying to slander, oppress, and otherwise limit the amount of liberties women nation-wide can have. And there are a whole pack of other men who are the good ones, trying to fight another pack of men whose entitlement has taken them entirely too far out of reality. I took a lap around the block to quell my fury, and then did what anyone would do in coming to grips with a real life interaction in a dining setting: I wrote a Yelp review. Maybe it was the wrong move, maybe I should have went back to the restaurant to talk in person. Who knows. But at the time, it seemed like a tangible action I could take to try and get my point across. I know that there will be more moments in the future for me to speak my truth; I know I *have* stood up for others before, and that it's not the end of the world me not saying one thing to this shitty guy. But sometimes it's hard to face the fact that 'nice' people still may have it all wrong.

Why didn’t I speak up while some pork was cooking on the grill? Because this shit is way more complicated and layered and nuanced that you will ever know, and sometimes, being a fighter all the time is exhausting.

I sat down on a park bench, and watched the masses ago about their way while I ate my failed sandwich.

[jenz]

Wine really is for lovers

Yesterday, it rained a substantial amount in Napa where I am currently. Wine countries around the world are no doubt mourning its LeClair. I am not the only person who Valerie took a chance on and believed in. In so many of us, she saw potential, and kindness, and growth, and it made me want to work harder and realize it for myself, too. I learned many things from the school of Val: fannypacks are totally utilitarian. Do shit you love because life is too short to not. Always spring for the gel nails when you can. Karaoke like no one is watching. But truly, the best thing I ever learned from her was this: people are valuable, and they deserve to be treated as so. Don't ever underestimate how much it means to tell someone you care. That they're doing a great job. That you remember to include them and make them feel wanted. Val did that for so many of us and that warmth will never be forgotten. Encouragement at its core is a form of love, and the amount of it that radiated from her was breathtaking. She may have been my boss's boss, but she was still one of us. It is crushing to know someone is ripped from you so suddenly, but there is one thing I have found solace in: in these past few hours, the amount of "I love you"s and check-in's with my TF family has been phenomenal. I like to think this is a direct result from all who Val touched and inspired. Our time together was so short - but the memories I will keep close to my heart will forever be sacred. Riding in the van to my first Burning Man and getting stuck in playa traffic listening to "Bubble Butt" for 6 hours. Going on a giant swing and that guy on Ecstasy wearing a leopard thong. Singing "Please Don't Go Girl" at karaoke and ending the song with 20+ people huddling all together drunk and crying and laughing, all in a sweaty group hug. Your infectious laugh and killer smile. I found the email Val wrote to everyone the day she graduated from TF: "Take good care of each other, listen to each other, enjoy each other, and learn from each other." I can't think of a better mantra to look to right now in the pain of my grief. Val, you were one classy AF lady. I am honored to have known you. You made my life better from the moment we met and I can never repay you for that. I can only hope that all the time I spent being inspired and motivated by your animal squad goals, food goals, career goals, travel goals and relationship goals, will be put to good use to make you proud up there in the stars. I am gonna miss you so fucking much.

[jenz]

Filing this under: make my children crush it.

[jenz]

Time To Be Honest

Our election results are now official. There is so much to say now, and to come - here are my last thoughts before I try to do some good in this world (canvas, donate, support, protest, and generally get involved) to combat the hate: I was in an emotionally manipulative relationship in my mid 20s where my needs, wants, desires, and dreams were not #1. I was never an equal. I tried desperately to make it work, but it is insanely difficult to be on the same page when the other person does not want you. It's how I feel about DT. Around the same time, I became pregnant and had an abortion, worked for a non profit arts agency, and had just graduated college. I was struggling to make ends meet, but was doing work I felt proud of, and was indebted to the fact I had a choice about not only my line of work and education, but my health. These are not values DT also holds true. My mom always tried to buy me dolls that at least had brown hair when I was growing up because she felt that I needed someone to admire who also looked like me. The same was true when I became older, and I went searching for people who shared my same beliefs, integrity, and intrinsic nature (why do you think my personal email address is, what it is?) A young 20 year old mom got this right - not a 70 year old dad with twice as much life experience. DT does not represent me. At all. It is bigger that just an election - it's realizing that every other person in this country wants you deported, wants you suffering, wants your rights stripped, wants you underneath them, wants you to be an inanimate object for pleasure, profit, or control, or wants you dead. And lest you think urban areas are unequivocally progressive, just remember: my Anglo husband who works for a company here in the Bay Area has white co-workers who would lose their minds if they found out he was married to a Xicana. In 2016. If you think I am overreacting, that's OK. You're not me. You have the choice, though, to relate to me and see what I see . The moment you decide not to, is the moment you decide I am not worth anything. I read a SF Gate post that stated DT won by division, but he cannot rule by it. I believe this to be true. One of the stages of mourning is anger - when you finally get mad as hell to the point of brimming, you know it is time to do a damn thing about it, or face regret indefinitely. I face an uphill battle as a individual and as a collective global citizen as of Nov 9. It is not a choice for me to just move away (that is the exact definition of privilege). It is, however, a choice for me to figure out what's next. My personal mantra for years now is this: "Attitude is a choice. Happiness is a choice. Optimism is a choice. Kindness is a choice. Giving is a choice. Respect is a choice. Whatever choice you make makes you. Choose wisely.” (Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart) You cannot control the actions around you, but you can choose how you will react.

ETA:

After I posted a link to this entry on Facebook, I thought a lot about why I was inspired to write this - some of my closest friends don't know any of the stuff I disclosed here. But the more I realized that the experiences I have had as a woman are not as uncommon between my friends and other women as I thought, the more I was confident that even just writing something small to reach out would make me feel connected. It is important to have the tough discussions and find our place to start fighting. We won’t know until we start communicating.

[jenz]

Top photo, wedding photo from City Hall - 2016. Bottom photo, snapshot I took before I went to interview for my first supervisor position at work - 2014.

I love both photos for obvious reasons (I got married / damn I looked good). Let this be inspiration as I trim off some fat before October.

PS - I did the deed and dun got married!

PSS - Totally did not shave my legs. Booyah.

[jenz]

News of my promotion to the festivals team as a Festival Specialist went live today. I have amazing co-workers. And I’mma toot my own horn for a sec: 4 promotions in 3 years did not come easy and I slipped, fucked up, and cried a lot. But it’s been worth it.

[jenz]

Tuesday

Odd, weird things that I am experiencing while trying to plan a wedding (and a small one to boot).

- Do other people have to Google “wedding gauges” to find nice earrings? Didn’t plan for my stretched ears with the 10g plugs to be an issue in finding cute ear jewelry. How is this not a straight up website?

- Do other people contemplate shaving their legs for the big day? For context, the last time I shaved my legs was 4th of July weekend, 2014 (HEAR ME ROAR OH LIONESSES). On one hand I definitely want to look my best, and I kind of miss that smooth silky feel of freshly shaven legs with some great body butter; on the other hand, I’ve gone this far and still get laid, so how important is it really?

- I hate every wedding favor idea I have seen on the Internet. So much so, I use bold. I am stuck in between wanting to “just do” something and being paralyzed by not finding anything that’s “totally us.”

- At some point in wedding history, there had to have been people planning the biggest day of their lives alongside the fact that their parents were in the literal middle of getting divorced, right? Nothing ruins the fun of seating charts, family activities, and talking finances even more than usual than remembering every-so-often “fuck, they haven’t seen each other for 18 months now.” I won’t say it’s been easy; at times it has been super fucking tough trying to deal with my happiness in planning a fun and meaningful day, with the crushing emotional sadness of realizing I’m celebrating love when my parents are not personally. People that know what’s going on keep telling me my parents will deal with it themselves, and not ruin anything during the Big Day...but it doesn’t stop me from worrying. I have no florist booked, no makeup appointment confirmed, and no dress - though I am 18 days away from getting married - and yet my biggest concern is where my parents are going to sit at the dinner table in relation to each other.

No wonder everyone says to elope.

[jenz]

I am so confused. Is this what I get for late night shopping for my goddaughter?

Related, Etsy has a whole category called Hipster Baby Clothes.

[jenz]

I’m kind of obsessed with Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, because, THIS.

[jenz]

Work v.16

I decided that it would be funnier to compile my treacherous escapades working in box offices over here. Maybe one day I’ll be a coffee table book.

[jenz]

I took my first solo international trip at 22 (10 years ago this April!). This article hits home for me. I am so happy I'm one of the lucky ones who understand the joys of being alone. We are not to be pitied - if anything, you should be impressed by our courage to step out singularly. It wasn't until recently I understood "decision fatigue," but that coupled with, you know, not having to answer to anyone, and I'll gladly take a 2 week trip again to Asia by myself to reset and rejuvenate. Speaking of...need to dream my next adventure.

[jenz]

"It's an omen Caught my baby crying, saw the silver lining It must be an omen Needed you to show me, without you I am lonely"

Been feeling this song way hard recently. The synths on the bridge get to me every time. Feels like falling in love with ‘the one,’ and yet still thinking about old love. Makes me want to make out feverishly, in that weird intimate way you get with someone you’re attracted to at a club, getting nose-to-nose close and having the anticipation of what’s gonna happen next cling to your fingertips and your parts below the belt simultaneously.

This also reminds me of my time in New York last fall, reconnecting with an old college roommate and dancing to this song at 3am in a gay bar. Feeling in that moment like I was on top of the world without a care, that it was possible to do anything put in front of me. Laughing all the way home in a cab and then eating a 12 hr old grilled cheese off a plate on the floor. Waking up with the worst hangover of my life because I did shots with drag queens before I left the gay bar. Meeting up with an old flame the next day alongside his new fiance, keeping the smiles and laughs going, wondering what would have happened if he and I worked out. If maybe he had returned that kiss that one time five years ago, when we shared a bed together. Where would I be? Would I be even happier than I already am, with the person I am choosing to marry now?

Oh Sam Smith. All the feels.

[jenz]

So I’m kicking off 2016 right.