Finished Blood

I flipped up the collar of my jacket, tucked my chin as close as I could to my chest and walked past the crowd. How was I going to care for my lizards if I couldn't get in? A feeling like one gets when an elevator drops too quickly settled in my stomach, but rather than act as a fleeting sensation it stayed with me long after I had left the view of the faceless people gathered in the street.

I sat in my darkened living room, stirring my tea which had long since grown cold, replaying the day the bland woman came into my shop. I thought back to my impression of her. Undead. Lifeless. Cold. Almost translucent. An involuntary shudder from the memory caused me to tip my teacup over. I muttered a profanity out of sheer desperation. I was tired of feeling afraid. In my line of business it is not beneficial to have fears of any kind.

Darkness approached wreathing the world in a deeper wash of ebony than my mind could recall. Hmm. I suppose now is just a good a time as any to check on my babies; to make sure the shop was even standing. I put on a hat, and rummaged through a box of clothes I hadn't worn in years until I found a simple, non-descript jacket.

The winter air sucked the breath from my lungs. Usually I enjoy the crispness of the cold air, but tonight I felt smothered. It was as if I couldn't force enough air into my lungs to feel like I wasn't choking.

I rounded the final corner at a near trot. It was as though I was breathing through a straw with a hole near the top. I had to suck the air nearly all the way up, only to have it dribble out the side at the last second.

Gasping, I thrust the key into the stubborn lock. Served me right for not changing the lock when I took over the business. After the desperate struggle, I stumbled into the inky darkness of the space. The formalin greeted me like an old friend. The dim amber lights in the cages cast small pools of eerie iridescence. Their low wattage was absorbed into the atmosphere almost immediately from the source.

I didn't dare turn on the lights out front. I only flipped the switch on in the back after closing the door. The sudden intensity of the bare bulb shocked my dilated pupils into reclusion for a few stunned moments. I scrawled out a sign which I hung on the door before locking up.

"Closed until further notice. All out of mole's blood. Thank you."

The pre-dawn light cast a gray coat over everything it touched. Again, the air seemed to stick in my throat as I walked toward my shop. I must admit, I was surprised to find an even larger demonstration outside the door of my shop. Hadn't they read my sign? I couldn't see the door for the many heads and shoulders blocking my view. For such a large number of people, it was uncommonly quiet. But the closer I came I could hear the faint murmuring rising up to the steely sky. "Blood of a mole...Blood of a mole..." It rose and fell with a cadence changing it from a request to an entrancing chant.

Again, I passed by the crowd unnoticed. However this time, I noticed the people. Each of them varied in shape and size, but they were nothing more than shades of gray. A stout woman with a shapeless face stood in my path. The wisps of her iron hair were pulled into a lumpy knot at the back of her head. Silvery tears made paths from her ash-colored eyes. She whimpered the sing-song words, "Blood of a mole." I slowed my pace. The man before me was bald. His head seemed carved of granite. The movements of his lips were invisible, but a throaty version of the cry came from deep within his chest, mixing into the collective groan.

I stopped. Looking about, it came to me that these people were not people at all, but mere shells of human beings, drained of life and color. What was bringing them to my shop? It was then the sun sent its rays into the heavens as it remained hidden behind the distant horizon. Peach, Rose, and Wheat tinted fingers stroked away the aged tresses until the sky burned brilliantly into a gleaming Garnett. The astonishing display reminded me of something I had seen before, like tongues of flame licking the sides of a glass. Glass. Ruby colored glass.

I took off my coat. I could breathe as I walked to the door. The temperamental lock behaved. I removed the sign. I was the color in their lives. I was the blood of a mole.

The crimson liquid trickled into gleaming jars.

Desperate Desire

I realize that I am only in my first year here at Snow College, but living in the present and not looking to the future never got anybody anywhere. My major is Communications, and I want to become a book editor. Ever since I was in middle school I wanted to come to Snow College. I made it happen. Ever since I was in high school I wanted to go to Columbia. Snow is one of the least expensive colleges in the state of Utah. Columbia is one of the most expensive universities in the nation. And if my mother begs me to move home and go to SUU one more time I think I'll scream. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother and I love my family, I just can't live with them ever again. UEA Weekend was a total and utter nightmare. Constantly, "Where are you going?" "When will you be back?" "Who are you going with?" "Why do you stay up so late?" "Why do you sleep in so much?" "Are you dating anyone yet?" "Why don't you go out more often?" "You spend too much time with your friends." A complete barrage for three days. I was never so happy to smell the turkeys of Sanpete County as I was the day I came back to Ephraim. I want so badly to go to Columbia, but let's face it, I had to take out student loans for Snow and I have three more semesters here alone. Going to Columbia will cost an astronomical amount compared to what I've been living on here. And then there's the trouble with actually being accepted. Sure, I'm a pretty good student. But my GPA is nowhere near what it needs to be in order to be accepted there, especially when transferring is so competitive. I've actually heard it's harder to transfer than it is to get in straight from high school. One thing is for sure, I'm not going back to Cedar. I have now resigned myself into looking at the University of Utah because they have a really unique writing program that I could only dream of being accepted into. Besides, it is a reputable enough place to earn a degree from. Then, when I move back east, land my dream job, and become a world-famous, award winning editor/author, I will be able to do my graduate work at Columbia. Who knows, maybe I'll achieve my ultimate desire and study at Oxford or Cambridge. Well, I suppose I'll look into planning my path for now. Go Utes.

Meeting Michael

In one of the sections of Sign Language I help Beckie (who is TOTALLY awesome!) teach, I met a kid named Michael. Usually not many guys are enrolled in the class, Michael is one of two in his class of about 25. I saw him at the opening stomp, he dances really well. And he dresses really nice. He also has this fantastic suede satchel that I would kill for if it wasn't faux. Something tells me we are playing for the same team--and I mean that in more than one sense. Ever since that incident at the house in November I've felt like a stranger in the house. All my roommates except Heather and Stephanie walk around tight-lipped, but the knowing glances they give me are almost as excruciating. I trust them. I don't think they'll talk. I pray they won't talk.

But Michael, he seems to be holding something in, too. He has the same look in his eyes when he talks to me as Tommy, JP, and David did before telling me those three little words that change people's lives forever. I helped each of them. I supported each of them. And I remain friends will all of them. I think in time Michael will come around, too. I was David's first. Tommy had only three before me. JP I shared with Savannah. They all still contact me regularly. I swear they make the most loyal friends on the planet. Yes, any person who, in a scared but hopeful voice, has held my hands tenderly, shuffled his feet nervously, cleared his throat several times before hoarsely uttering, "I am gay" will always hold a special place in my heart.

I'll wait. He's dying to talk, and I'll be there to listen.

Stream-of-Conscious (Sort of)

I am Jenna Janes. I am 19 (almost 20!) and I absolutely refuse to cry right now. Maybe if I squeeze my eyelids tighter those burning, telling tears won't be able to escape. It's not like anyone can see me crying. Marianne, my new roommate, is reading but she's on the bottom bunk and everyone else is asleep. But if I let the first tear fall then a hundred more will follow, and if I let that happen I will start to sob. If I sob Marianne will hear and think I am a complete baby. If I try to hold the sobs in my whole body will shake, which will cause this stupid bed to squeak and wiggle, and--you guessed it--she will know something is wrong. It's not I don't like Marianne, in fact she seems really nice. All my roommates do. Well, Nicole seemed a little stand-offish and I haven' met Kristin or Mindi, but I'm sure they are all nice, too.

Am I really even supposed to be here? I mean, technically I should have been in Veronezh, Russia for four days. And even after that didn't work out, I could've stayed in Portland, Oregon working for Orkin. Pat and John seemed to really like me, and all the guys treated me like I was their daughter--well Dax, and John Schlosser treated me like a kid-sister but they were really great guys. And suffering through that endless ride from Portland back to Utah--I thought I was going to throw Bethany's stupid dog out the window. Yip yip yip. Mangy beast wouldn't shut up.

But it was so good to see Natalie again. My sister is so amazing--how many sisters would drive from Nephi to Orem just to pick up her migrant little sister? And Lily got so big!!! When I left in May she was three months old and was just starting to hold her head up. Now she can sit up all by herself, and roll over, and grab things. She's only six months now, but I suppose that is twice as old as she was last time I saw her. And Kelsey, she changed so much, too. She's still doing cheer, but now she's dating Anthony (of course she'd pick a senior seeing as now she's a sophomore). Daddy looks old, especially with that bushy beard that has more gray than color. The fact that he nearly shaves his head and has that thing growing on his chin adds to the aging. Mama looks the same. She cut her hair, but other than that she hasn' really changed. She's really excited about the move from the Pre-school to Beryl. Hopefully things go well for her there. It will be so bizarre living away from home. I stayed there while attending SUU, but Natalie finally convinced me to try out Snow. She came here and loved it. She also came here and got married.

While it may seem selfish, I don't want to get married. At least not right now. There are so many things I want to do first, why give up a degree from Columbia, living in London, becoming a Sign Language interpreter, serving a mission just to be tied to some guy forever. I mean, because I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints I believe in eternal marriage. If I am going to be married for eternity, then I figure waiting a few measely years won't put things off too far.

Oh this house stinks! Not figuratively, but literally has a definite foul odor. When I saw Carole's Cottage on the website I thought, "I could do a cottage." I saw the picture of the house from the outside, but I never realized how awful it would be. The carpet is threadbare, there are no doors on the closets, I am sharing the bathroom with four other girls. On the upside we do have a big-screen (we're talking 54") tv, and a whirlpool. There is also a tanning bed, but it is coin-op as are the washer and dryer. Oh well, I guess for $400 a semester I can deal with it. Maybe if I think about something else I'll be able to fall asleep... I have to unpack everything tomorrow since I didn't get here until around nine tonight. But I have to remember to check my schedule for which classes I have. And I am supposed to meet my boss Beckie, but I don't know when and I would've called her tonight but my cellphone died and the charger is somewhere in all the stuff in my car. Correction, not my car. The car my grandparents are loaning me until I can get a car because mine died.

Oh there are so many things to do! Maybe if I sing a song I'll be able to fall asleep. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray..."

What a Wonderful World!

Today is so extraordinarily fantastic that all I can do is hum the words to Louis Armstrong's "Wonderful World" and walk around with a goofy grin on my face. Today, nothing can get me down! :D

Why "Essences of Green"?

I was recently asked by a friend, "Why is the name of your blog called 'The Essences of Green'?" Shortly after that another friend asked, "What is with 'JadeLuckMoney'?" Although it is not required of me to explain, I feel like expressing the meaning of these things at this point in time.

First, I will begin with the information that my favorite color is green.

That said, the breakdown of my name, JadeLuckMoney, will help clarify the name of the actual blog. Obviously, the name is a combination of Jade, Luck, and Money. I suppose I chose these three things because at the time I was feeling a little jealous, a bit lucky, and jealous that I was not lucky enough to have money--or at least more of it. Hopefully it is apparent that the commonality shared by these three things is that they are varying shades of green (although luck is slightly confusing, but commonly associated with the elusive four-leaf clover).

Now the question, "Why 'essences' instead of 'shades'?" Because shades simply implies that there is a difference between each thing. Essences implies that something lies below that particular green which causes it to become a unique shade which can never be perfectly duplicated again. Mimicked? Yes. Replicated? Yes. But exactly the same? Never again.


Feelings, thoughts, and inspirations can be familiar from past experiences, but no two feelings of anger are identical. Comparable yes, but not exactly the same because the circumstances, the people, the location are different. And even if all those variables were once again the same there is no guarantee you would react as you did before simply because your knowledge of the previous situation would perhaps cause you to act more quickly, wait to share your insight, or simply leave all together.

Jade. Luck. Money. Each of these things is green. Yet the pools of light and ink of darkness transform them so drastically they obtain their own identities to the point that their kinship is an obscurity wreathed in layers of differences. And yet, they are green.

To Mr. Anonymity

The reason my name is on the page is because of the aforementioned belief that if anything is important enough to write for others to see, then it warrants a name. But I appreciate the feedback and hope you'll continue to post comments!

Liberating

Wow--having a completely anonymous journal where I can say anything is somewhat liberating and a little bit intimidating. I once had a teacher who told me to never write for other people's eyes what I couldn't put my name on, and now I am being given the option to entirely ignore that advice. But I am a person of convictions, and if I believe something is important enough to write down--whether others agree or not--then it is important enough to put my name on it.