Jess Boctor

Category: Uncategorized

  • Wish Right Now.

    What would you wish for?

  • Few things taste better.

    I am be no means a methodical cook. 

    I do not plan out a meal, make sure that I have all the ingredients or even think that far ahead. Paul does that, and I am very thankful that he does. I am more of the “what do we have in the cupboards and can I combine it in a way that is edible?”

    Generally, it’s a toss up.

    Sometimes though, it comes out just right. Tonight was one of those rare occasions.

    I made a dinner of grilled chicken, plain, an off-colored bruschette that was made with yellow tomatoes and green onions instead of the usual red and white, and plain wheat toast.

    It was really good. I don’t know if it’s the satisfaction that everything in the bruschette was picked fresh from my survivalist garden or if it was just the general simplicity of the meal, but it was just satisfying. Reminds me that I am on the right path, that simple can be satisfying. That the “more” philosophy can be nothing but glitter in your eyes.
    Continuing the adventure,  

    Jess

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  • The Challenge has Been Made.

    challenges.pdf

  • Declaring War on Stuff

    So here’s the thing. I suffer from an illness called Jessimania. This means at random times I can go into full blown mania about something that is bothering me, needs to be fixed, or (most often) has been ignored so long that I can no longer stand it.

    Unfortunately, Jessimania often requires a scapegoat. It can’t actually be my fault, and so I have to find something or someone else to blame. This generally sounds something like “I can’t be the truly artistic person that I want to be because I work full time” or “My house is always a mess because my husband doesn’t pull his weight”.

    Reality is, I am not the truly artistic person I want to be because it is so much easier to watch Glee than to actually sing scales for an hour. My house is always a mess because I am a scatter brain who has more stuff than her brain can handle. 

    Yesterday, I found myself at home, alone, with a horrible bout of Jessimania building. My inner dialogue was getting darker and angrier over the pile of laundry that I volunteered myself to stay home and take care of. If my husband had come home in the midst of this, I think my thoughts may have actually struck him dead.

    Luckily, I recognized the symptoms.

    I stopped, took a deep breath, prayed fervently for a change in thoughts, put on praise music and began to figure out was really the issue here. Was it really about the pile of laundry sitting on my dinning room table?

    As I thought about the person that I wanted to be, and where my life is, I found that there was a huge discrepancy and it was staring me in the face. My pile of laundry was a visible way for my failure to shake its fist at me and laugh. 

    You see, I want to live a mobile lifestyle. It is something that I have been working on. To have the ability to pick up and go. Just like that. The problem is that right now, I would  have a lot of stuff to pick up. The laundry was a reminder that what my heart and soul craved was far from the reality that I lived. It was a reminder that I faced every week when I stare down that pile of laundry.

    Also, I am horrible at doing laundry on a regular basis. So having a lot just means that I have piles everywhere.

    So yesterday I declared war on stuff.

    The stuff in my life that just gathers in piles, the stuff that is debris from a life that someone else is telling me to live. A lifestyle that encourages chains of credit card debt, more crap, and bigger houses to hold your crap, which of course means more cleaning to maintain your crap. A lifestyle that my soul screams against.

    I started the campaign with my closet. 

    Here was my goal: to make my entire closet fit into a suitcase. It was something I had been threatening Paul with for a few years now. I started with our largest suitcase, and then felt as if it didn’t really require me to get rid of that much. So I downsized to our medium sized suitcase. I can now say that my entire wardrobe fits into this suitcase. This did not include a few fancy dresses, heavy coats and under ware, but it was done.

    When Paul came home, there was only a single moment of questioning as to why all of my clothes were in a suitcase. Once I informed him of the process I had gone through that day, he was supportive. In fact, he let me do his closet next. I didn’t hold him to the suitcase requirements because he would wind up with 1 set of clothing, but I was able to reduce his closet size by about 50%.

    I feel better already. Proud of myself for avoiding a meltdown, recognizing the problem and then actually taking action to change my lifestyle. It was nice to take the first steps towards closing the gap on that phantom version of myself that I see in the distance.

    The pile of paperwork that has been migrating around my house is next.
    Continuing the adventure,  

    Jessica Boctor

    www.phantomblonde.com

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  • Traben-Trarbach

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    What do you think?

  • The Danger Of Comparasions

    I was reading the blog of an old school mate of mine.

    It made me want to cry. In fact, after unintentional provocation by Paul, I did actually cry.

    You see, this woman and I should have been best friends. In fact, for a short while, we were. We have very similar interests and pursuits. We should have been iron to one another; sharpening and spurring each other on in our goals and dreams. There was only one thing that got in our way; a gangly awkward 5’8″ 13 year old who hadn’t found her place in the world yet.

    And I am still searching.

    You see, the school mate was always better than I was. I felt that our relationship was unbalanced because the few scraps I could bring to the table, the school mate could always best. She was more charming than I was, she had a better singing voice and a better ear for harmony, she was funnier, cuter, a better writer and any other -er’s that you could add to the list of what I wanted to be when I grew up.

    So this is the history of our relationship when I was browsing her blog on Friday night. I found out that she has recently picked up two more of my hobbies and is–naturally–fantastically talented at these things. All I could think is that there is nothing sacred from her touch. Whatever I do, I am positive that she will maliciously and intentionally be better at it.

    That is a lot of self importance, considering I have not spoken to the school mate for 8 years.

    It is also tragic. 

    It is tragic, because together, we may have been an unstoppable force of creativity. They few times we collaborated together, we did awesome things. It is also tragic because it shows just how little I actually believe in myself and my dreams.

    You see, if I actually trusted myself, trusted who God made me to be, and trusted that amazing things will happen if I just let go of control for a moment, than it wouldn’t matter what the school mate did, because I would know that I was living out who I was made to be. In fact, it would probably change my attitude so much that instead of feeling bitterness and resentment towards her, I would feel joy at her accomplishments.

    The problem is that I don’t do those things. I wear a mask and preach a message of living out your purpose, but I know deep down inside that I am not doing that. I am running, and I have been for a long time. 

    Why?

    Because I am afraid.

    I am afraid of what God would call me to if I really let Him have control of my life. I am afraid of what would happen if actually tried to be that phantom that hangs around the peripheral of my soul. I am afraid of rejection.

    And so I become a hater. I hate people who do actually live out their dreams. I watch jealously as they live in honesty about who they were meant to be. 

    That is a lot of baggage to throw up via Blog, but it also baggage that God has been asking me to deal with. 

    So here is my plan; stop hating and start doing.

    I’ll let you know how it goes.
    Continuing the adventure,  

    Jess

  • Things that make a crappy day better.

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    I’m not feeling so hot today.

    Actually, I am, but that is due to a low grade fever.

    Normally in these situations I come home and dive straight into mopey mood. I lie around and watch movies pretty much feeling worthless until the funk clears. 

    Today, I managed to stay somewhat upbeat and productive, and while I am now about to pop in a movie and rest for a bit, at least I know that I accomplished some things today. Things that make me feel better even if I am feeling crappy.

    What might those things be?

    I took some time to journal and answer a few questions that have been hanging around my peripheral psyche.
    I picked the first ripe tomato of the season from my vegetable garden. 
    I made a hand bound book from a couple of old floppy discs.

    All things that make a crappy day better.

    Continuing the adventure,  

    Jess