Halloween time

It's Halloween time! We started decorating yesterday. It was so lovely and fun. I also went to a party Saturday. I dressed as a Diet Coke and my husband was whisky. And this weekend, we are having family over and I am doing Grease. I've been Rizzo before, but Friday, I'm gonna be a hot Sandy. I even modified my leather jacket to add a paper t bird logo. And I'll wear my black pleather pants. No high heels, but a red scarf and a black tight belt with a blond wig. Hoop earrings. 

There's something about Halloween that I love so much. I get to cosplay. I adore theater. I might even sing a song. Perhaps the lyric, "I got chills". Oh wait, that's Danny's part. I'll sing, "you're the one that I want" to my husband. 

Things have been interesting on my sobriety journey. I'm documenting it on my substack page. I'm having a daily epiphany. Today, it's that I like myself sober. I like myself clear headed. I loved decorating with a soda. I don't need the alcohol to have fun. 

I also realized that my life is going to bloom. I had a lot of anxiety about reaching out to a writer I greatly admire to come on the podcast. I know her, and she's been so supportive of me, but I was terrified she would say no. Then I thought, why live fearful? And she said yes! So there you are. I just need to live, putting aside my bottles and baggage. It's a new day. 

And I'm a new JEM, all dressed up for my day. 

Tomorrow will it ever come

Tomorrow I'm seeing Morrissey. He's playing in Ontario. Social Distortion is playing with him. I'm hoping everything goes off without a hitch. Morrissey is getting older so you never know with him. 

It's the IE and I'm an IE girl. We all know this and to get to see Morrissey in my hometown is epic. Especially now that I'll be wide awake and sober. In case you don't know, I'm working on my wellness. 

Today, I went to a lunch meeting that involves music and played a Morrissey song from the Smiths. The group is all genres and we play a song and talk about it. Not everyone knew the Smiths or had heard the song. I kind of felt like Jan Brady. Like no one liked me. But then I thought, well maybe I'm introducing someone to music they've never heard. 

My need for approval persists. My perfectionist tendencies are real. My insecurities manifesting even sober, and maybe that's why I drank. Because I'm not as confident as I pretend. If you want to read about my recovery journey check out my substack. 

https://lifeofjem.substack.com/?utm_campaign=pub&utm_medium=web

And I'll just keep humming along. Until tomorrow when I'll be singing along to every song. 

The mime & me

At the Paris themed party I attended this weekend in Palm Springs, there was a mime. A mime!

While in line, I see him and think about David Bowie who was a mime for a bit. The mime has on a black and white striped shirt and a bowler hat and he has a grey beard and a black and white painted face (of course). And he might have suspenders on. 

While I am standing there, we lock eyes, which isn't hard because I'm staring at the mime. I'm wearing a black dress with a red petticoat. He walks up, and points at my dress and nods. Then he grabs my arm and escorts me into the party. I'm so happy, I could burst. 

We walk in together, the mime's arms flailing widely by his sides. We step in concert, marching to the beat of music I hear the strains of from inside the party. The mime brings me to the entrance, my family trailing behind, my husband Adrian quizzically looking at me as if I planned this.

Then voila, we are at a picture stand. The mime puts his hands in a heart. I do too. I blow the heart up. He smiles and puts his finger in his dimple and bows. The mime and me take pictures together preening, making faces, and gesturing and diagramming to communicate. 

The mime fake hugs me, arms wide. After a minute, the mime knocks the door on the picture booth, and out comes a hand with a glass of champagne like magic. The mime disappears, but it's not over. 

I find the mime again. I know we need to do the "imaginary box" mime trick. I see him and run up to him, pretending I'm stuck inside an imaginary box. My hands feeling the imaginary glass. I've seen it in movies. The mime immediately understands my hand gestures & helps me out by trying to smash the box then somehow, gently opening an imaginary door that I step through with a woosh of my petticoat. 

Then later, the mime takes a picture with my twin sister Jackie at a purple windmill. We say our goodbyes with an enthusiastic wave as I wipe an imaginary tear from my eye. 

My mom remarks that the clown is funny and cute. I say, "Mom that's offensive, he's a mime, mimes are not clowns. They're performance artists."

A few days later, my husband will say, "Please stop with all the mime talk. No one likes a mime." I retort with a raised brow, "Except me and the entirety of France." Touché. 

Happy birthday to me

I am 54 today and up at 4:20 am writing. Who does that on their birthday? Me!

I am working on some things. Big things. Wellness things. And of course I'm writing about it. I started a substack but I am keeping it quiet for now. You can read it here dear reader: https://substack.com/@lifeofjem/note/p-175514673?r=7cq4g&utm_source=notes-share-action&utm_medium=web. Please be kind.

I have not realized much in these 54 rotations around the sun, yet I do know this. I'm a writer in my soul. In my heart. In my head. I have at least three more books in me. I have the beginnings (and a little more) of all three. They're in my head percolating and I just gotta get them down on paper. 

I'm petting my three dogs and they're all over me like life. Messy, unpredictable and loving. A nip here and there by their teeth. 

Life is crazy. It changes in an instant. One minute you think you could party on and stay "as is" forever. Then you realize, nope you can't. You need to change, evolve and adapt. 

It's time. It's time JEM. So just go for it. It will be okay. You will be okay. Promise.

Hear JEM read a story aloud on her podcast!!

JEM reads her most recently published story aloud, a story appearing in the upcoming Flowersong Press anthology "The White Picket Fence: Stories of Individuality as Rebelliousness" (curated & edited by Gina Duran). JEM's story is an intimate true tale titled "Wonder Twins Reactivated: a search for connection" & about her relationship with her twin sister.  Listen in. Just click here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/life-of-jem/id1700562573?i=1000729814662

A new Life of JEM writers on writing podcast is up!

If you're a fan of her writing and blog, you will love the podcast where JEM has conversations with some of her favorite writers! Always conversationally engaging and intimate, JEM tries to really get to know these writers and their books! Check it out

See https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/life-of-jem/id1700562573?i=1000728484744

Dark daze

I'm at Lowe's. It's ironic that I'm writing this here because a piece just got accepted to a literary journal about a trip to Home Depot that I wrote during the Christmas season last year. 

It's late September, and it's not even Halloween yet, but the Christmas decor is already being put out on the floor. So there's huge seven foot werewolves and witches alongside the snowmen and Santas. The contrast is striking.

I've always been a Halloween type of gal myself. I am dark. Gothic. In literature, in movies, in clothing, and in my mind. Although I do consider myself an optimist, I am a realist too and reality is dark, especially right now. 

Everything seems to be spiraling in the world. I try to find solace in my writing, in music and in helping the least fortunate and most vulnerable in my day job as a deputy public defender. But even that's been darker than usual lately. It's gotten harder and is getting harder. 

There are days that I yearn for a positive job where I could go to work and not have to see people in chains. Yet, what I also know in my bones is that my clients need me. I think now the issue is that I don't know if their need outweighs the vicarious trauma I take in daily. It's harming me. The stress can be extreme, especially because I care.

I'm just learning I need to put myself first. 

So back to the home improvement store. There's a metaphor here I'm searching for because recently, I have been working on improving myself. You see, I need a remodel. My body can't handle everything it used to. Hitting my fifties has been a wake up call for me to practice self care, improvement and fulfillment. So I'm trying. Day by day. Minute by minute. I'm trying really hard to do better and be better. That's all we can each do. Live in the moment. Realize that life is fleeting and we must do the best we can.