Yesterday I had to print some music and the printer was jammed. It was annoying. But then I fixed it. And I am now five sheets of music richer for it.

Today I did a handstand. I was spotted, but still. I DID IT. And you know why it happened? Because the yoga teacher asked if anyone in the room had any handstand experience. And not a soul raised their hand. Then she went right over to me and said I was going to demonstrate. News to me. She spotted me and then was all, “See class, as she goes up to her handstand…” And proceeded to wait for me to do just that. So I was like, OH SHOOT. And then I did it. And acted like it weren’t no thing at all. But secretly, it was a thing. Like, a brand new thing.

My point is that it’s amazing what we can do when we have to.

Like when I fixed my glove compartment because I wanted to be able to close the darn thing.

Like when I fixed the printer because I needed to print some music.

Like when I did a handstand because my teacher used me to demonstrate and the whole class was watching.

Like when I kept living when all I wanted to do was fall asleep forever.

I think that annoying or painful or even crushing situations can result in amazing discoveries within ourselves. I think that the human spirit has a resilience that is a miracle akin to the lame walking and the blind seeing. I think life is very messy but we clean up good and then we go on to do handstands and run many more miles than we ever thought we could and if we had gone to sleep forever we would have missed all that and that’s no good at all and even the mess is worth being alive for, if you think about it.

I think we grow and grow and grow.

And then we grow some more.

And growing pains are no joke, but man, it’s worth it (her brain tells her heart over and over again).

we’re all broken sometimes…it’s gonna get better

you don’t know lullabies, you just know how to say good-bye
you haven’t heard the the perfect combination of words for quite a while
you walk alone, try not to look at your phone
you say you’re okay this way,
what you don’t know, don’t know is it’s true

you’re gonna be alright, you’re gonna be just fine
if you can’t believe me now then I know that you will in time
be alright, yeah, you’ll be just fine cause you’re more like a bird than anything, yes, you’ll fly so high and even sing and when you do I’ll try not to say that I told you so, cause you feel so low, but this cannot last forever
and I promise you this…it’s gonna get better

you still read fairytales and you still check your mail
you can’t help hoping that some good news will still prevail
you’re busy swimming in an ocean that you never made
it’s bitter waters are the healing that you still crave

we’re all broken sometimes (it’s gonna get better)

But I will say that one of the best things about friends going to far far away places is when they come back. Shane is home now and this is such lovely news. I drew him a pig playing a guitar as a welcome back and then I made the pig say “snort.” Not “oink,” but “snort.” Oh my gosh. I realized my misnomer too late, and after I had finished laughing about it, decided to sign up for preschool. Because isn’t that where you learn about farm animals and which particular noises they make?

Seriously, who does that?

And I will also say that I have been listening to a certain song called Fearless by Colby Calais. I have been listening to this song a lot. My friend Sarah told me about it, told me that when she listens to it, she thinks of me. And now I go and drive and I turn up the heat in my car and then I turn up the volume of that particular song and both the heat and the music help to make me warmer, you know? And I sit inside those lyrics and I am at peace. Not even sad, just at peace.

Oh, now it’s even later and that whole getting up early thing is coming nice and fast. But I just wanted to let you know about the mistaken snort. And that song, Fearless. And that Shane is home. Yes, I think I have covered everything.

It looks like C.S. Lewis’ White Witch is still in the business of turning people to stone.

Exhibit A:Just don’t say that you didn’t get fair warning.

(actually this was a completely candid photo. At least for my pop. My mom knew I was taking the picture (as you can tell), but pop was apparently fascinated by something or other at Longwood Gardens, and was in some sort of plant-induced trance. And haha no, I am not saying he was smoking marijuana. What a scandal!)

I just kind of think this picture is hilarious.

Maybe I am the only one.

If so, I’m okay with that.

And I don’t know if Jesus preferred figs or strawberries, or if he could even choose when it came down to it cause maybe both were his favorite, but I know it’s good to wonder about God. I think it’s a good thing to ask questions.

And lately I’ve been wondering how God balances joy with sadness. How he manages to keep them from being mutually exclusive. I don’t quite understand how he can see the whole world, all the messes we make and promise to never make again and then go and make just once more this time, seriously, while still being confident in the way good will conquer evil.

And I’m tired of bad news. But I’m even more tired of it stealing something from me. Like today, for instance. It had been going lovely. I auditioned and it went well–aside from accidentally setting off the fire alarm–and well, I was wearing my yellow pants. I also ate one of my favorite things: an almond pretzel from Auntie Annes. I was listening to some songs that I am currently obsessed with and so the drive back from Trenton didn’t feel so long.

And then I got home to bad news. Really bad, dumb news. The kind of news that I thought was behind me; the kind of falsity that I thought I was DONE FINDING OUT. Oh, but just kidding. And then I was angry. And then I was sick inside. And then I was like, Where’s my day? Because even the sun had hidden itself behind the gathering storm and I looked at the sky and thought, You too?

And I know, it’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to feel sick. But I didn’t want my day stolen, you know? So I did what I do a lot of lately. I went running outside and I talked to God and I talked to myself and between those two conversations I started to feel better. And at one point I came across a chubby little groundhog and laughed because I couldn’t tell which one of us was more surprised by the incident. And that felt good. Laughing, I mean–not necessarily scaring a groundhog.

And maybe there is a part of me–something that feels so small it’s hard to miss at times–that is so deeply me, that no thief can steal it. It’s where my thoughts and my spirit and the way I reach though I might not even be moving at all meet. And maybe it’s strong, but maybe it’s just like saying oh, that color is so purple; because it’s either purple or not and I’m either me or not; whether bad news comes or whether I am startling a groundhog or setting off fire alarms or wearing yellow pants or crying because look, I slept a whole night and woke up to a life that still looks like this.

And so, that small part that is still me, no matter what? Well I think that God is all that part. And yeah, I do think he probably likes strawberries too. But I think that he is all himself all the time; that nothing can change that, and that’s part of the way he can balance such evident tragedy with true joy. Somehow he’s not dependent on what’s happening around him, though he cares, I do believe; somehow the ebb and flow of life can’t steal from him.

And I think I need more of that.

And I am grateful that someone, even if it’s not me all the time, is that way. Because I need to know it’s happening. Like that cheesy little sign you see in bars: it’s five o’clock somewhere, I like to think that someone is consistently joyful somewhere. That someone, somewhere, isn’t shaken by this.

And now I need to sleep.

Badly.

I’ve been up too long today as it is.

The good news is that the instructor is also a massage therapist, and even told me that she’d give me a session for free because she’d love to work on my body. The bad news is that, from what I gathered, it’s a new technique she created that involves massaging with her feet. I’ll have to let you know. And heck yes, I’m doing it because FREE MASSAGE, YA’LL.  And yes, that’s the first time I’ve ever said or written the word ya’ll. In fact, I wonder if that is how you spell it.

The good news is that I found some cute underwear for 20% off the already low price of $1.95. The bad news is that apparently I still have to do laundry. Because there always seem to be more days than underwear. And yes, you can quote me on that.

The good news is that I was looking through some pictures of me in the photo box marked Jessica and man, was I a cute little blonde version of my brothers. The bad news is that there were quite a few pictures that I had to throw away. And if you don’t know why this is–one word: archives.

The good news is that my skin is no longer dry dry dry and flaking off like it’s always winter and never Christmas. The bad news is that it might be trying to teach me a lesson in gratitude because now it’s breaking out. Great. Maybe a song is in order: Breaking Out is Hard to Do. Only, wait. It’s actually easy; just look at me.

The good news is that I cut my toenails yesterday, a task that I always congratulate myself on because it really does seem like both such a hassle and a chore. A chassle, if you will. Which I did when I cut my toenails. The bad news is that I cut one toenail too short, making my poor toe bleed and now hurt like the dickens no matter how many times I try to explain to it that it’s just a little toe, that it shouldn’t be quite so powerful in terms of making my quality of life suffer.

The good news is that I got home tonight with the grand idea of making myself a fried egg sandwich. I took out the frying pan, buttered it while it sat on top of the stove, only to look in the fridge and discover that the bad news is that we have no eggs. So there I was, cooking butter for nothing.

The good news is that I doubled the recipe of mac and cheese that I made two nights ago, assuring that there would be plenty of leftovers for days to come, since mac and cheese leftovers is actually something I enjoy. The bad news is that once I realized I was cooking butter for nothing, I decided to have some mac and cheese only to discover that was gone, baby, gone too.

The good news is that my pop walked in with some Chinese food leftovers right after I discovered that a). we had no eggs for my fried egg sandwich and b). we had no mac and cheese for my mac and cheese leftovers. The bad news is that I don’t particularly love Chinese food, but as it was ACTUALLY THERE, I ate some.

The good news is that I am going to see my brother graduate from the UCLA screenwriting master’s degree program in June (which he didn’t know until now). The bad news is that airlines now charge you for a seat as well as the flight. I would like to know what their going rate for a flight without a seat is, but they are not forthcoming with that information. I wonder if the seat belt will cost extra too.

The good news is that I am going to sleep with clean, wet hair. The bad news is that I will either look really cool or really crazy when I get up in the morning, though they are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

The good news is that my mom bought me a bailey’s irish creme cupcake; the bad news is that my pop ate it first.

The good news is that my mom then gave me her coconut cupcake; the bad news is that it was not the bailey’s irish creme cupcake I had really been looking forward to.

The good news is that my mom knows the rules of restitution; the bad news is that, according to her, my pop now owes me four cupcakes. I suppose he will have to become The Cupcake Fairy along with already being The Milk Fairy. And then I will have to have a party in which I invite a few friends to help me eat my plethora of cupcakes and, oh yeah, help me keep fitting in my jeans.

The good news is that I have really been doing my part in going green by only averaging about two showers a week lately; the bad news is that you are now probably judging me. Oh, and it may be that much more difficult to ever start dating again unless I up my showers to at least three per week. Maybe even four if we’re talking clean hair more often than not.

The good news is that I sent off my bling in my mail-ordered break-up box today; the bad news is that it has come to this: a couple of pieces of jewelry that used to mean the moon and back and now simply mean a check and a bad taste in my mouth. Yep, coulda really used that cupcake.

The good news is that my stylist waved something of a magic wand today and got rid of my roots; the bad news is I’m thinking he’s not in love with my super magic blond hair since he’s already discussing with me ‘the plan’ to go darker again. Something about carmel. But don’t get all excited cause I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean candy. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have told him I was ready today.

The good news is that I saw a raccoon up close at a friend’s house tonight; the bad news is that his tail was somewhat shorter than normal and kinda skinny, too. And I got the distinct impression that he was aware of the fact cause he kept hiding it behind the wooden railing.

The good news is that tomorrow is Tuesday and it’s a nice, new Tuesday that hasn’t even been written yet; the bad news is that Tuesdays can sometimes make me think of that Tuesday. The one I barely survived. The one that reminded me about how life isn’t at all the way I planned it and sometimes The Worst slips off its disguise and looks you squarely in the face right before it moves in, whether you’re ready or not.

The good news is that that Tuesday will never happen again; the bad news is that that Tuesday happened at all.

The good news is that when I saw one of my friends today, he noticed how I couldn’t stop smiling; the bad news is that sometimes I remember all of the things that have recently transpired and it turns my smile off like a light. And if it’s a night like this, when the moon is remarkably absent, it can start to feel pretty dark out there.

The good news is that me and Shane agreed on a band name, finally; the bad news is that somebody else agreed on that band name back in 2008. They even got a myspace page. For a day. Just one day. But it’s still there and it’s still keeping us from being The Janes, like we were trying to be.

The good news is that I had tasty thai food tonight; the bad news is that it was tasty and spicy and thank God for milk that is ready and available.

The good news is that I am already in bed and it is already late; the bad news is that I am too tired to keep writing, so I think my report is now finished.

The good news is that I thought of just one more thing: the bad news is that it is that I looked at the word ‘news’ and suddenly forgot how to spell it. Is it really just the pluralization of the word ‘new’ as in ‘new and shiny’? How is that so? I even googled it. Sure enough, it’s right. And sure enough, I’m tired.