tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49118998838665186932024-03-12T17:42:14.285-07:00unsiftedSarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-77046596522424243692015-02-09T11:47:00.001-08:002015-02-09T11:47:03.743-08:00i'm backa comeback. to life. to writing. i can't forget these moments. these are the moments that should live on forever. Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-87420353694343431582011-02-27T15:04:00.000-08:002011-02-27T15:16:07.559-08:00quietby the fire, with thoughts of the weekends happenings. a visit, a party, a trip down memory lane. time spent with my family, free for a moment, of the financial beating i continue to endure. but with patience and strength, certainly i can yank my future into the present, determined by my goals and a reaching, burning, fearless desire.Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-15234040663461794712011-02-08T11:44:00.000-08:002011-02-08T12:05:48.321-08:00where have i beenhard to say. though not as far away as you might think, rather caught in the middle of it all. so deep, it's been hard to see out. now...staring out at the snow banked ground, sun breaking through, footsteps deeper, while chimney smoke feathers, and trees bend with wizarding limbs, casting promise, relief, hope...i am out. sometimes it's the reality of our lives that beats us down and sometimes it's that reality that pulls us back up. there's a moment when you can just let go...and i did just that. so quiet is the mind.Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-67303813387908081092009-02-06T13:08:00.000-08:002009-02-06T13:09:29.449-08:0012:47 p.m.<span style="font-family:arial;">In a matter of moments I may discover the end to a particularly frightful financial crisis, or I may just eat my lunch. I’ll choose the latter. But deciding the appropriate time to eat lunch is always a challenge. Taken too early and an end to the day seems a far distance to travel. Taken too late and the aches muck up the brains ability to produce. Factor in the crowding of the staff lunch room and the potentially hazardous smells of shrimp reheated and a girl’s decision can be seriously affected. I’m not partial to small talk nor do I care for the feel of a newspaper in my hands. The relationship I have with food is best enjoyed alone and after much experimentation, the appropriate time is 12:47 p.m. </span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-79208253841444727902008-07-16T14:35:00.000-07:002008-07-16T14:49:42.221-07:00when i can't slow down<span style="font-family:arial;">it's where my mind goes, wandering through spaces black and cold, spinning in dead ends, breaking beneath heavy footsteps. i see in frames, the whole picture is absent. just moments, some of memory, some of wish. </span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-6107896108380979412008-06-21T10:30:00.000-07:002008-07-18T13:54:47.870-07:00i'll take my cocoa puffs with soy and my coffee with baileys<span style="font-family:arial;">it's breakfast at givanni's. the lights are off. the sun is just peaking through the window of the narrow, 2 story city building. kate hides norah jones </span><span style="font-family:arial;">in the espresso beans </span><span style="font-family:arial;">and her shoes in the safe while i sit at the bar. paperwork, bank visits, inventory and stocking by day. spicy meatballs and billy idol by night. what happened to those days? those days when i only <em>thought</em> i was working hard. those days when i longed for something better. those days that i only <em>wish</em> would return. and it's not about the place, or the job. it's about the people who have touched me, who have since moved away, a group of girls that are reached by email as often as i twirl my hair. these girls are forever.</span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-44687910144388579992008-04-14T08:28:00.000-07:002008-04-14T08:43:18.019-07:00streeeetch<span style="font-family: arial;">somehow as i ballooned up i escaped the branding of stretch marks on my belly. yet somehow after i deflated they appeared bright red and unforgiving. three marks seared into my skin like a scratch from an irritated house cat. a reminder of a different time, a time when emotions ran wild, when anger, tears, laughter rolled together in one simple moment. i'll consider it a battle wound, a scar to be proud of, a fixture that will remind me of the one thing i never knew i wanted and the one thing i could never live without.</span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-17896256849761419262008-04-01T08:11:00.000-07:002008-04-09T13:18:18.168-07:00pathetic and pregnant<span style="font-family:arial;">pregnant and feasting on a big mac. no, not a craving, just a lack of time and a sudden hunger pain. i sat in my car, with my nine month belly nearly touching the steering wheel. parked in the back of the lot, no one around, i opened the signature box and wrapped my fingers around the sloppy burger. at first bite, a car parked to my left. at second bite, a car parked to my right. are you kidding me? the lot is half empty, can i please eat my mac privately? already digging in, i deny my urge to move to another spot. continuing my quest to satisfy my hunger, i take another bite. and it happened, as i figured it would, special sauce dripping down my white winter coat. i get over it, wipe it off and take another bite. shit, it happened again, but now it's on my chin and fingers too. trying to wipe it up only spreads it further and my frustration grows. i wonder if my car neighbors are watching. i wonder what they are thinking. is my role as the pathetic pregnant woman oscar worthy? it has to be. tiny car, big belly, sloppy food and only one napkin. <br /></span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-51410121289566945302008-01-30T14:21:00.000-08:002008-01-30T14:49:01.291-08:00what's on the menu?<span style="font-family:arial;">decaf coffee and a petit four, that's what i had for breakfast...the second time. it's come to my attention that i only have a few weeks before baby delivery and thus only a few weeks to take advantage of such guilty pleasures. food, the one luxury amid a surplus of "unluxuries" that i have clung to, is now facing life imprisonment. parole, however, is an option if i find myself in the jaws of pregnancy again. ok who am i kidding, as far as i'm concerned food is always up for parole and petits fours are always on the menu. </span><span style="font-family:arial;"> </span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-12103162360954393942008-01-19T13:24:00.000-08:002008-07-18T13:53:56.999-07:00poop and travel<span style="font-family:arial;">this is where i step even farther out of the box, unsifted for sure. trying to make sense of it all will cost you time you surely cannot afford, so just step with me. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">to poop and travel, i salute you. a devious pair for sure. a pair that in their finest hour, has dropped many to their knees. a pair that with little effort, has guaranteed themselves a spot in blog history. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">so how have i come to discuss this pair with you? through the company i keep. yes that's right, my friends are shameless. our candid talks showcase what most would deem unspoken matter. but for us, these topics are commonplace and i wouldn't be a loyal friend if i didn't shamelessly elaborate on them with you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">so here we are, talking about the patterns of poop as affected by travel. this pattern, or rather lack there of, is most commonly known as constipation. and what guides us down this path of discomfort? close pooping quarters, foreign toliet anxiety, decrease in water consumption? any number of options i suppose. the key is to recognize where your struggle with poop and travel originates from and proactively seek preventitive measures. just know that you are not alone in this. and to quote a friend, i take you to a cabin outside of rome, " Swimsuits and seaside by day, cheese laden pasta dinners by night, and two dense poop babies growing in our bellies." </span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">to poop and travel, i despise you...</span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-2911624995131996582008-01-17T08:37:00.000-08:002008-01-18T14:41:06.017-08:00cream cheese side down<span style="font-family:arial;">today the bagel falls. and like all falling bagels, this one too, has landed cream cheese side down. it seems i could elaborate but there's something so right about the simplicity of it all. there's no mystery, just gravity. the same gravity that grounds me, keeps me, holds me. </span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-68946438270423850402008-01-11T13:40:00.000-08:002008-01-11T14:44:45.209-08:00i was smiling when i said it<span style="font-family:arial;">i didn't realize that your seemingly snide response was actually said with a smile, but now that you've made yourself clear I would like to take a moment to discuss this misunderstanding. communication spawning from a lack of visual contact may be the leading cause of what i lovingly refer to as "stress induced verbal bashing". it is not enough that i harbor that anger, i must now take what stirs inside me and spew words unkind with hopes of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">re centering</span>. save me from this illness, this illness that will likely become a real diagnosis followed by a real drug to cure it, followed by a real list of side effects and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">inevitably</span> followed by a really big lawsuit from the one person who suffered great injury as a result of taking this drug for an illness that could have been prevented if only we all understood the etiquette of non visual communication. don't just say it with a smile, say it nicely please :)</span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-68405336917750709482008-01-10T08:56:00.000-08:002008-01-11T13:39:36.180-08:00mermaids<span style="font-family:Arial;">amid the fears of pregnancy come the fleeting moments of humor where you just have to laugh at the wonders of the mind. almost 34 weeks into this experience, and the few hours of deep sleep one actually gets are saturated with wildly vivid dreams. and so it is that i have come to find out i carry the dominate gene for mermaid syndrome. yes, mermaid syndrome, and according to the doctors all of my children will be born with a shiny, scaled, green, floppy tails. and to make matters worse, i will not be able to eat double cheeseburgers from wendy's because this only increases the effects of mermaid syndrome. looks like we will be moving to the ocean front. </span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4911899883866518693.post-2503948621074641902008-01-05T11:35:00.000-08:002008-01-05T12:22:56.844-08:00the beginning<span style="font-family:arial;">the beginning, a reawakening of that spirit that once drove me to create. a scattering of thoughts, random and real, life as i know it, see it, feel it. this is where i start. i invite you to journey through the masses that surround me and the recesses deep within me. journey to a future blind of fear, deaf to hate, light of heart and filled with laughter. i make no promises, but i aim to inspire, entertain and teach... <blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></span>Sarah Jeanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17201703579871409129noreply@blogger.com2