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The Time Is Now

14 May

I am in the middle of completing a vision board, a collage with images and words which embody my life’s aspirations. I don’t believe in the idea that the mere creation of the board attracts some universal juju which will make my wildest dreams come true. Rather, having this visual representation of my ambitions will remind (and motivate) me to go after the things I really want.

One of the larger items on my board is a clipping of a home as I’ve recently decided I want to buy a house by the end of 2014. Being a homeowner is a very meaningful thing for me, something that reflects the hard work I’ve done to become a stable and financially independent adult.

Just kidding. This is what my board really looks like.

Just kidding. This is what my board really looks like.

I probably could have bought a house a couple of years ago, but never really put the effort into making it happen. I wanted to be sure my job was stable (it wasn’t). I wanted to be sure my boyfriend and I were going to end up together (we didn’t). I wanted to wait until I didn’t feel nervous about making such a big purchase (never going to happen).

I’m always waiting for the perfect moment to do things, but I’ve come to realize that perfect moments don’t exist. They only exist in movies, or in what we think we see when we scroll through others’ photos on Facebook. Real life is much scarier. Continue reading →

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My Loving Locks

22 Apr

“It’s just hair.”

I said that to a friend years ago after she got, in her mind, a terrible haircut. I’ve said it dozens of times over the years to people who hate their hair, are having bad hair days, or who have suffered at the hands of an inexperienced or overzealous hairdresser. It wasn’t until my grandmother was diagnosed with Lymphoma five years ago that I realized it wasn’t just hair for some people.

My grandma underwent treatment, and began to lose her hair as many cancer patients do. Alopecia (also known as hair loss) is a side effect of radiation therapy and chemotherapy as the treatments harm the cells which cause hair to grow. It was something that was unexpectedly emotional. For who? Perhaps for all of us in our ways, but especially for her. She hated not having hair so my aunt and I picked out a wig for her so she could feel “normal” while out and about. I’m happy to report that my grandma is in full remission, and has all of her own hair now.

There is a certain helplessness a person feels when their loved one struggles with a serious illness. It is not your own battle to fight, and you are not one of the medical practitioners aiding in the treatment process. You are both directly and indirectly involved, and it leaves you feeling like there should be something more you can do. You just want to help something or someone.

I took to the internet to find my something or someone, and stumbled across Locks of Love, an organization with which I was already familiar.

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Credit: Locks of Love

Continue reading →

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Matchmaker Mayhem

19 Mar

This should come as no surprise, but there are people who are worried about me. It’s not because the last time I brushed my hair Monica Lewinsky was smoking a cigar from her beef curtains. It’s not even because my I’ve begun talking about reality show characters as though they were my real friends. It’s because I’m single.

I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but I wish my friends would stop telling me about a “great guy” they know. I appreciate the concern, I do. Everyone should be so lucky to have friends who care so much that they go out of their way to try and make you happy. My issue isn’t with their attempts at helping me find true love. My issue is that they suck at it.

I tweeted this the other day:

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It’s not fair to be critical of something if you’re not willing to help remedy it. Let’s take this time to talk about what Jen and Tonic looks for in a man. Continue reading →

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Interview with Brother Jon: Hooked on Tonics Answered for Me

15 Mar

Pop on over to BroJo’s blog and read all about my love of David Hasselhoff, how I almost turned into a Kardashian, and the part I played in the resignation of the former Pope.

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All Good Things Must Come To An End

24 Feb

This is a post about a breakup, my breakup. A breakup I’ve rarely discussed save a few long discussions with key people in my life. A breakup which started with love, and ended with love.

“A” and I met during transitional periods in our lives. I had some serious emotional issues I was dealing with, and he was beginning his journey of self-discovery. I was growing healthy while he was growing up. We were (and still are) different in many ways, but we were able to use those differences to help one another during a time when we really needed another we could call home.

A is a wonderful man. He is intelligent, loyal, trustworthy, compassionate, a great listener, understanding, forgiving, funny, attractive, fun, supportive, romantic, and a laundry list of other things you’d want a mate to be. I would look at other people’s partners and think, “What an idiot. I’m lucky to have A.”

We did all the things couple should do if they want to stay together. We communicated our thoughts and feelings. We resolved all of our issues instead of sweeping them under the rug. We hugged and kissed often. We practiced random acts of romance for the other. We always had fun, and believed in living a life of adventure. We never let “being right” become more important than being in love. We’d admit when we were wrong, and apologized when necessary.

As everyone knows, relationships are complicated. There are times when a breakup is the obvious choice, and people hang on by the skin of their teeth as they destroy each other. There are times when a relationship is copacetic, and the people in it find themselves having the “I think it’s over” discussion. There are reasons and seasons for everything, and I’m beginning to understand this more and more as I mature.

There wasn’t one thing that ended our relationship. No big fight, no act of betrayal, no dramatic event. It was a simple conversation we had sitting on the living room floor of our apartment. One of us spoke first, and the other agreed. Our relationship was over. Continue reading →

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Tonic Confidential

25 Jan

Are you familiar with PostSecret? You should be. It’s an “ongoing community mail art project” which allows anonymous users to submit confessions/secrets on handmade postcards. Once a week, selected cards are posted on the website for everyone to read. Sometimes they’re sad and sometimes they’re funny, but they’re always a testament to the human experience.

Last week, the amazeballs Becca from 25toFly put up this PostSecret-inspired post revealing her deepest, darkest secrets. Since I’m a huge fan of redheads and bloggers and writing and beer and that time Ashley Simpson did a jig on Saturday Night Live…wait, what were we talking about?

Oh, right. I asked Becca if I could steal her idea, and she said I could run with it. It’s amazing what twenty bucks and the promise of a shared Natty Ice will get a person to agree to. Time for my investment to pay off.

These are my confessions. (Anyone else think of that stupid Usher song?)

I was once mistaken for a hooker

Many years ago I was invited to a party, and dressed in my sexiest overalls. I got totally hammered after drinking a fifth of tequila and three Zimas in a very short period of time. I walked outside to get some fresh air, and propped myself up on a pole which just so happened to be on a street corner. A cop rolled by, took one look at my smeared lipstick and air of desperation, and assumed I was a prostitute. I was insulted because it was obvious he didn’t think I was a $3k/night kind, but the $10 for a handjob kind. He soon realized I was just a drunk dumbass and let me go, and I learned a very valuable lesson: never mix tequila and Zimas.

I am terrible at meeting new people

No, I’m serious. I absolutely hate meeting new people. Something happens to me chemically that makes it appear I’m suffering from every single side effect of a medication. Dry mouth. Sweats. Confusion. Elevated heart rate. Swollen tongue. Loss of bladder control. It’s really awkward when you piss on someone you’ve just met.

Story of my life

Story of my life

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Obligatory New Year’s Post

9 Jan

Hooked on Tonics, I’ve been away for awhile. I received notes from a few of you expressing your concern:

“Are you going to come back? You’re the most brilliant (and beautiful) writer on the planet. You’ve spoiled me so much I can’t read anything else.”

“Come back or I’ll gut you like a pig.”

“What I really need is more cowbell, but since I can’t have that, you’ll do.”

You guys flatter me.

I’ve been very busy over the last couple of weeks. I went to California to spend time with my family for Christmas, and it was equal parts fun, terrifying and exhausting. Once I got home, I came down with the horrible flu/cold thing that has been going around. Additionally, a new role I’ve taken on at my job kept me a bit busier than I anticipated. In short, shit was cray.

I missed all of you, especially those who send me nudes on the regular.

Burt was the first person to follow this blog

SoJaT fact: Burt was the first person to follow this blog

Continue reading →

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12 Days of Christmas- Day 7

16 Dec

I’m a sucker for Christmas traditions. Some people string popcorn and hang it on their tree. Some people sing Christmas carols. Some people attend midnight mass. I have fond memories of these lovely Tonic Family traditions:

  • Cussing up a storm as we try to figure out which bulb is causing the whole strand to blackout
  • Having tree sap stuck to my skin and hair for days after helping get the tree in the base
  • Waking up at ungodly hours because a tiny person in the house wants to get up before the sun does to open presents
  • My parents arguing because my dad forgot to charge the camcorder battery for the 900th year in a row
  • Feeling bloated and praying for a swift death after consuming too many sweets
Christmas 2009. This is me right before I "gave birth" to the cheesecake, rum balls and fudge I ate earlier in the day.

Christmas 2009. This is me right before I “gave birth” to the cheesecake, rum balls and fudge I ate earlier in the day.

Continue reading →

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Caffeine and Christmas Cards

6 Dec

I wanted to publish this post yesterday, but couldn’t because of a monkey on my back. Not an actual monkey as they can be volatile and rip your face off without warning. Let me take you back in time so I can explain…

Caffeine and I have had a tempestuous relationship. Growing up, I thought coffee tasted like chalk. My mom and her relatives would sit around the table while the kids came around like waiters, bringing them their liquid crack. When I wasn’t acting like a slave, I was sneaking little tastes here and there. I vowed never to drink it.

Credit: Julius Schorzman

Photo by Julius Schorzman

Then college happened. It was the late 90’s. It was Seattle. It was cold. I was tired. Starbucks stores were on every single corner. I was like one of those vulnerable people who fell into a cult, only I was worshiping baristas. Continue reading →

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Party On

28 Nov

NaNoWriNO Day 28

Topic: Rocking a party until the early light

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I was a pretty big partier back in the day. I used to enjoy frequenting soirees so crowded that you couldn’t tell where  your body parts ended, and someone else’s began. Going to a bar and destroying my liver by consuming every alcohol the establishment stocked was a weekly habit for me. I’d stay up until the sun began poking its head out, take a power nap, and then go work a full day. (Fun Jen fact: I’ve never been hungover)

Every good partier knows that you need an arsenal of supplies to make it through the night. Some people choose to carry condoms because they’re looking to score. Others choose to keep snacks on hand to avoid the dreaded dip in blood sugar. I chose to carry a more colorful array of items.

Deodorant. I don’t know where I read this (most likely Ladies Home Journal or Highlights since those were the only two publications I was reading at the time) but a magazine claimed putting deodorant on your face would prevent perspiration. As a person who sweats simply at the thought of sweating, I was excited about this. I’d be able to dance without the fear of the strobe light hitting my face, and causing onlookers to wonder if I had just finished running a marathon. Not only did it not prevent me from sweating, but it broke me out, and people kept asking me why I smelled like an armpit.

Credit: Martin Spurny

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