One is the loneliest number?

*clears throat*

Hello everyone. My name is Jacque (“Hi Jacque”) and I’m…*hesitant pause*  I’m single.

I’ve been single since April. *uneasy swallow at the collective group gasp* I know, I know, it’s tragic. I guess that’s why I’m here. It bothers my parents. It bothers my friends. I know they’re worried about me. I can see it in their eyes. I can hear it in their voices. They’re trying to help me. It was when my step-mother tried to pair me up with one of the lawn-mowing men who is twenty years older than me that I realized the depth of my problem.

*Deep sigh*

I wasn’t always this way. I was in a relationship. Sure, I’ve dabbled with being single over the years, but that’s normal, right? Everyone tries being single once in a while, don’t they? I didn’t think it was going to be a problem. I was in a relationship, and before that, another. I was a good girl, doing what I am supposed to do. But at some point, I… I just… *tears welling in my eyes* I just became single.

*collective group hug*

I didn’t realize it was such a big deal to be single until I fell out of my last relationship. It was time. When I fell into being single, I fell into it hard. Every day I was single. Hell, every second of every day! I wrapped myself up in singleness. At first, it was tough. It’s a tough pill to swallow at times. But then I came to realize how much I liked it.

I am not proud.

I know, people my age are supposed to be happy in relationships with at least one child under their belts, but singleness is a slippery slope. Once you get into it… well… they say it’s hard to get out.

Okay, enough Single People’s Anonymous.

Apparently, being single is a bad thing. At least, that is the impression I’m getting from people. Some well-meaning friends invite me out and make sure to mention how many single guys might be there. How many times have I heard: “Oh, you and *insert male name here* would get along so well! You should meet him!” and then the inevitable add-on: “He’s single.” As if it’s a bad thing! I’ve determined that being single must be almost as tragic as being an alcoholic, having an eating disorder, or a debilitating skin condition. I can almost hear people whispering behind their hands. “That’s Jacque. She’s single!” and the following gasp of shocked disapproval… or is it pity?

When did being single become such an anomaly?

“I remember when I was single,” someone once told me. “It was awful! I was so glad I found *insert name here*.”

Really?

Really?!

I wish I could say that the person to whom being single was a nightmare was the only person who has given me such comments. Unfortunately, no. There have been many. I have met many people who seem to base their own internal happiness on not being single. They all have their reasons. Some are afraid to be alone. Some are very needy and just need someone to take care of them. Some are the opposite – co-dependent to a fault – needing someone to take care of so badly that they would settle for anything.

I admit to being in both of those categories at one point or another in my life. I could go back and list the people I’ve dated and let you know my motivations in every relationship. Some of those relationships, looking back, I wonder what the hell I was thinking. For instance, five years of my life (from the age of 20 to nearly 25 – the ‘best years’ they say) was completely wasted with someone with no ambition who did nothing but hold me back. Of all of my exes, he is the one I wish I could go back and un-do. Why did I get into the relationship in the first place? Because I was deathly afraid of being alone. I was so afraid, I literally just let my life slip by while I clung to something I thought would make it worth it. Truth? It didn’t.

Over the years, I’ve settled for things. I would settle in restaurants when people got my order wrong. If my steak was overcooked, I’d keep my mouth shut. If the lady at the nail salon made my nails too long, I’d just go home later and file them down myself. If someone said something I didn’t like, I’d let it go. Why? Because I settled. (There is a point to this, I swear.)

So. Yes. I’m single.  I have no urge to run out and find someone to complete me. Finding someone with whom to share my misery does not appeal to me. Do I want a relationship? Oh, of course. In time. Do I need a relationship? No.

Why?

This scourge of being single has taught me one thing. I’ve learned who I am. Not the me that I became to make other people happy. Not the me that I became in adaptation to someone else’s them. I have learned who I am and I am continuously learning who I am. Being single is not that dark space between relationships. Being single is not a feeling of failure. At the collapse of my last relationship, people came out of the woodwork to tell me they were sorry. “Oh, Jacque, I’m so sorry!” My reaction? “Don’t be. It’s alright.” And it is. Being single is not a regrettable state of affairs. Being single is exciting. It is fresh and fluid and different. It is an adventure. Does that mean that I wasn’t fully invested in my previous relationship? No. I was. But this single thing? This is my chance at a new relationship – a relationship with myself.

So yes, my name is Jacque and I am single.

And damnit, I love it!

We are all human, and that is the most beautiful thing of all

“Osama Bin Laden is dead!”


Emphasis on the exclamation point.

When the news of the death of the former leader of Al-Qaeda hit the US, people celebrated. People came out in droves in Times Square and in front of the White House to rejoice in the death of America’s Most Wanted.

But not me.

While seemingly everyone patriotically praised the actions of the President and the Navy Seals who executed a perfect (execution?) mission, I was left with furrowed brows and a frown. “Osama Bin Laden is dead!” people would tell me. Yes. Yes he is… “Well, aren’t you happy!? Justice has been served!”

Has it?

I think my biggest mistake the following day was made at work when a very large and outspoken transplanted Texan (who also happens to be ex-military) came into my office to cheerfully tell me the news. “They killed the bastard! Bin Laden got what was coming to him!”

To which I replied: “I feel sorry for his family.”

Can you hear the needle scratch across the record as the whole world seemed to stop and look at me with a raised eyebrow? Can you hear the crickets? Can you picture the throbbing vein in Mr. Texas’ forehead as he tried to understand my words?

“What?”

“I said, I feel sorry for his family.” Figuring this gave me a moment to elaborate, I tried to explain myself. “I mean, no matter how bad a person is, no matter what they’ve done, they still have people who care about them.”

Immediately, I was given an earful about exactly how I was wrong… and how my simple statement about empathy for Bin Laden’s family was completely unpatriotic. How caring about how the family of a terrorist felt cheapened how the family of a victim of the terrorist attacks felt. I didn’t think so, but when a man who towers over you by at least a foot is telling you how wrong you are, you just listen.

However… when he was done, I stuck to my guns. “Yes, I understand that the families of the victims of 9/11 lost someone they care about too. I understand that grief. I do. But a person is a person… and regardless of what they’ve done, whether they deserve death in your eyes or not, they have people who care about them… people who will grieve… people who will miss them… I feel bad for THEM.”

Still, he wouldn’t hear it. I lost a lot of his respect that day, and while that bothered me, I still honestly firmly believe what I believe.

I will never celebrate a man’s death.

Let me repeat that: I will NEVER celebrate a man’s death.

I’m not normally very politically minded. I’m neither a Republican nor am I a Democrat. I don’t feel I identify well with any political party. There’s too much bickering and arguing and finger-pointing and mudslinging for me to care too much about politics. I don’t want to associate myself with either side. I believe what I believe and it doesn’t fit nicely into somebody else’s box. If I had to claim anything, I would claim that I am a Humanist. I’ll have to expound further on what this means to me in a different blog entry, however, for sake of argument, that is what I will claim for now. I will not hold your opinions against you because that is the beauty of this country: We are all entitled to our own opinions… whether those opinions be religious or political in nature, we are free to have them. We are free to express them. I am free to write what I believe, and you are free to stop reading if you’d like. It’s a lovely thing.

However… with all that said… This country makes me so sad.

“Rot in Hell!”


Is it for us to judge? Boiling everything down, simplifying everything, at the very root of it all, Osama Bin Laden thought that his actions were right for his people. His opinions and beliefs conflicted with our own. I’m not saying he was right. In fact, he was very very wrong, as far as I’m concerned… but do I think he was wrong because he disliked our government? No. That was his opinion. Where he crossed the line into the unforgivable is when he started killing people.

In my opinion, humble as it is, death is never the answer. Never.

Never.

Do I think that the victims of 9/11 deserved justice for their untimely deaths? Of course. Do I think that it is ours as humans to dole out? No.

Death begets death.

Yesterday, they executed Troy Davis. Did he deserve it? In my opinion, No. It has nothing to do with guilt or innocence to me. It has nothing to do with race. It has nothing to do with any of the stuff that people are outraged about. It has to do with the fact that, like you or me, Troy Davis was a PERSON. Death is death and death is forever. Forever. It is a concept that I don’t think people really understand. Forever is forever. There is no taking it back.

Why was he executed? Because we, as a people (a democratic country, a system of laws), determined that it should be so. An eye for an eye. Death penalty for murder.

But isn’t the death penalty, in and of itself, murder too?

So, if Troy Davis or any of the 9,722 people who were sentenced to death between 1970 and 2009 deserved to die because they were murderers, shouldn’t the people who flip the switch or press the button to preform the execution also be executed? And so on and so on… an eye for an eye? Where does it stop?

Who are we to say that our lives are any more important than anyone else’s? Throwing religion aside completely, we were all created the same way. At the heart of it all, we all started as a sperm and an egg. Regardless of your religious beliefs, regardless of your political beliefs, regardless of your opinions, your sexual orientation, your race… we all have one thing in common.

We are all human.

And that is the most beautiful thing of all.

Why can’t we recognize the humanity in each other and make decisions outside the boxes designated by religion and politics?
Why can’t we all just get along?

"Gaaahhh!!" Definition: Unknown

Thesis.


the.sis [thee-sis] – noun, plural: -ses

“A dissertation on a particular subject in which one has done original research, as one presented by a candidate for a diploma or degree.”

Thesis.



Nightmare.

night.mare. [nahyt-mair] – noun

“1. A terrifying dream in which the dreamer experiences feelings of helplessness, extreme anxiety, sorrow, etc.
2. A condition, thought, or experience suggestive of a nightmare.”

Nightmare.



Overwhelm.

o.ver.whelm [oh-ver-hwelm] – verb

“1. To overcome completely in mind or feeling.
2. To overpower or overcome, especially with superior forces; destroy; crush.”

Overwhelm.



My Thesis.

my.the.sis [my thee-sis] – noun

“1. A dissertation on the Americanization of the Holocaust in which I have done original research, intended to be presented for a degree.

2. An overwhelming nightmare that has consumed my life, causing me to experience feelings of helplessness, extreme anxiety, sorrow, fear, inadequacy, a crippling fear of failure, incompetence, hopelessness, apprehension, angst, nervousness, worry, fear, panic, and general ineptitude.

3. Side effects: irritability, upset stomach, headache, dizziness, high blood pressure, difficulty breathing, IBD, indigestion, increased food consumption, blurred vision, weight gain, hypersomnia, agitation, fatigue, self-loathing, atypical depression, chronic migraine, increased smoking, malaise, frustration, snarkiness, lethargy and ADD.”

My Thesis.