[two hundred, seventy-three]
This is going to be loving and short. I love lots of people. Infatuation, sexual, and all other stupid forms of love can't be excuses for what the love I feel is. I love the people who take the time to make me smile, and therefore I do the best to do it everyday for everyone I can... So, if you haven't heard it today, I love you.
And have a lovely evening.
Jess :]
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
seems like frosting to me
[two hundred, seventy-two]
It was cool, not the kind of cool that you could say much about, but it wasn't warm enough for shorts, and it wasn't cold enough for a scarf, so there surely wasn't much to say. It was just after a rain, it seemed, like a forty minute, short film of a shower, that came down in buckets and fell promptly on the neighbour's rose bushes, she smiled a lot after it rained. It was hard to explain to anyone really what you mean when you say "My life is a pathetic falacy, save me," but some people do try. Her best friend had told her once that when it rained it took the air out of her, just knocked her to the ground so that she was surrounded by muck and wet, and that surely wasn't much of a rainy day.
They were supposed to be, you know, intense.
They were supposed to be releasing, in a freedom-on-the-side-of-your-plate kind of way. Liberating, in that sense, it was to go walking. Sam had gone walking. She had noticed the water falling over the roses, the petunias, the dozen other kinds of flowers rooted deeply next to the fence that connected Helen, her neighbour, and her house. There was a grey feeling, the smell of wet pavement filled the air, the smell of gray.
So Sam was walking, yes, down the street. Mundane, it was, to walk. No one ever thinks of walking until it is mentioned, and then after that it really couldn't be any more complicated. Sam took one look at her moving legs and smiled, just as Helen was smiling out of her window at the roses, at the sky, Sam smiled down at her legs, and then at the sky, and then once at Helen. Helen loved her roses, and Sam loved her some rain.
The street ended eventually of course, and so did Sam's journey down it, although she wouldn't forget that day, wouldn't forget that walk in particular, it had taken her forty minutes exactly, forty minutes of freeing-and-swaying through the raindrops, through the calamity-packed shower that was the day's rainfall, to get down her street. Living on the outskirts of town did that to you, it soaked you through your being and into your organs.
Weird it was, to think of your organs in danger of getting wet. Was she like an electric board? One that if wet would spark and expel smoke, smoking organs was not a lovely thought. Her smile faltered, and she forget where she was going. Why was thinking so hard? Thinking and walking. One step two steps three steppings four step-on's, it was hard to focus, it was hard to get her mind off anything but thinking. She smiled again then, thinking was too inevitable to take too much thought to, and more smiles occured.
And the rain stopped then, she smiled. Sam loved smiling, and not only because it showed the world the happiness, but it showed herself that she was capable, she had that intact to her, she could hold that feeling that being close to her, inwards to her heart as if the only things clinging to a life within her was that smile. Those smiles, that day, began the journey not only down the road, but further, deeper, towards the centre, towards understanding.
Sam didn't understand a lot of things, she didn't recognise things, she couldn't remember nice pretty words or funny jokes, but she did remember things like Helen's cat's name is Star, and he liked small bits of soft pie crust if you were happening to be leaving one out for cooling. Sam loved that cat, and her street, and the days where she could walk down and not have to really think about something structured, something fancy, something hard to understand, but try to make the journey to getting there.
focus: a new character? Or an old one, who should be dressed in pink.
Jess :]
It was cool, not the kind of cool that you could say much about, but it wasn't warm enough for shorts, and it wasn't cold enough for a scarf, so there surely wasn't much to say. It was just after a rain, it seemed, like a forty minute, short film of a shower, that came down in buckets and fell promptly on the neighbour's rose bushes, she smiled a lot after it rained. It was hard to explain to anyone really what you mean when you say "My life is a pathetic falacy, save me," but some people do try. Her best friend had told her once that when it rained it took the air out of her, just knocked her to the ground so that she was surrounded by muck and wet, and that surely wasn't much of a rainy day.
They were supposed to be, you know, intense.
They were supposed to be releasing, in a freedom-on-the-side-of-your-plate kind of way. Liberating, in that sense, it was to go walking. Sam had gone walking. She had noticed the water falling over the roses, the petunias, the dozen other kinds of flowers rooted deeply next to the fence that connected Helen, her neighbour, and her house. There was a grey feeling, the smell of wet pavement filled the air, the smell of gray.
So Sam was walking, yes, down the street. Mundane, it was, to walk. No one ever thinks of walking until it is mentioned, and then after that it really couldn't be any more complicated. Sam took one look at her moving legs and smiled, just as Helen was smiling out of her window at the roses, at the sky, Sam smiled down at her legs, and then at the sky, and then once at Helen. Helen loved her roses, and Sam loved her some rain.
The street ended eventually of course, and so did Sam's journey down it, although she wouldn't forget that day, wouldn't forget that walk in particular, it had taken her forty minutes exactly, forty minutes of freeing-and-swaying through the raindrops, through the calamity-packed shower that was the day's rainfall, to get down her street. Living on the outskirts of town did that to you, it soaked you through your being and into your organs.
Weird it was, to think of your organs in danger of getting wet. Was she like an electric board? One that if wet would spark and expel smoke, smoking organs was not a lovely thought. Her smile faltered, and she forget where she was going. Why was thinking so hard? Thinking and walking. One step two steps three steppings four step-on's, it was hard to focus, it was hard to get her mind off anything but thinking. She smiled again then, thinking was too inevitable to take too much thought to, and more smiles occured.
And the rain stopped then, she smiled. Sam loved smiling, and not only because it showed the world the happiness, but it showed herself that she was capable, she had that intact to her, she could hold that feeling that being close to her, inwards to her heart as if the only things clinging to a life within her was that smile. Those smiles, that day, began the journey not only down the road, but further, deeper, towards the centre, towards understanding.
Sam didn't understand a lot of things, she didn't recognise things, she couldn't remember nice pretty words or funny jokes, but she did remember things like Helen's cat's name is Star, and he liked small bits of soft pie crust if you were happening to be leaving one out for cooling. Sam loved that cat, and her street, and the days where she could walk down and not have to really think about something structured, something fancy, something hard to understand, but try to make the journey to getting there.
focus: a new character? Or an old one, who should be dressed in pink.
Jess :]
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
in less than, to be frank, i think that, yes
[two hundred, seventy-one]
Is it just me, or is this semester becoming increasingly more complicated as it continues to expand and grow? Maybe it is just me. I looked at my course outlines at the beginning of the semester (three weeks ago? Seriously?) and I realised that I didn't have too many assignments, essays, etc. to do throughout the semester, which sort of made me get into the courses more. But now, it just seems like things in other natures are piling up.
Such as applications, and resumes, and portfolios, and bills, and budgetting, and a social life? And so many other things, it's like so many of the things I used to enjoy for stress relief such as writing, being around people, reading, did I say writing and reading? All have lost their shine, because it is just piling up on me. I am holding the world on my shoulders and they're splitting down the middle.
I have appointments, and personal goals, and goals for classes, and class selections, and applications for travelling, and everything that really shouldn't be on my plate infront of me, nice centre stage with utensils strewn over my table, which is also covered in papers and cooks and discs and cords. Oh the cords. There is a never-ending brew of constant cords all over my life right now. Connections. It causes heartburn to think about it.
I can't swallow all of this. I need to just take it a day at a time, and stop comparing myself to everyone else. Let me be perfectly true to my sentiment, I do love school, I love life, I love everything that is going on, there are just those days those thoughts that irk me, that get me into a cuddled up nest in my bed and refract me from wanting to escape. I don't want to escape, can I stay trapped?
What is truth? Really? Is anything truly believable? What about honesty? I feel like these things are too heavy to ponder when I should be reading or writing or editing or applying or paying or walking running singing dancing jumping frantically trying to catch up. Eating? Should I?
I made the best dinner tonight. I "sauteed" tofu and red pepper in butter and then had some orange juice and some crackers. I feel like it was just the best thing ever, I loved it, and that is the bare honest truth. Stay tuned in the next week for characterisation, plots, musings, etc. I have an application (or four) that I need to start writing and preparing, to plump up and polish for the show!
It is autumn, I'm allowed to make county fair jokes.
I want to go out and buy a pumpkin, is that too early too? Why am I so late for some things and early for others? Can't the world just come up to speed with my time? Is tomorrow Thursday? You know what that means? Live jazz in the bull ring. This means I get one relaxing afternoon, with an apple cinnamon tea (and ice cream?) and just some relaxing for my relaxation...Prior to beginning a predetermined stressful group project. How's about we all just take christmas vacation a tad early this year? I want that.
Hope you all have a lovely evening, I still don't know what to do for my night that is left, probably figuring out a tentative reading/writing/editing schedule for next week. Is Thanksgiving a "holiday" if you have a midterm two days later? Nope.
LOVE
Jess :]
Is it just me, or is this semester becoming increasingly more complicated as it continues to expand and grow? Maybe it is just me. I looked at my course outlines at the beginning of the semester (three weeks ago? Seriously?) and I realised that I didn't have too many assignments, essays, etc. to do throughout the semester, which sort of made me get into the courses more. But now, it just seems like things in other natures are piling up.
Such as applications, and resumes, and portfolios, and bills, and budgetting, and a social life? And so many other things, it's like so many of the things I used to enjoy for stress relief such as writing, being around people, reading, did I say writing and reading? All have lost their shine, because it is just piling up on me. I am holding the world on my shoulders and they're splitting down the middle.
I have appointments, and personal goals, and goals for classes, and class selections, and applications for travelling, and everything that really shouldn't be on my plate infront of me, nice centre stage with utensils strewn over my table, which is also covered in papers and cooks and discs and cords. Oh the cords. There is a never-ending brew of constant cords all over my life right now. Connections. It causes heartburn to think about it.
I can't swallow all of this. I need to just take it a day at a time, and stop comparing myself to everyone else. Let me be perfectly true to my sentiment, I do love school, I love life, I love everything that is going on, there are just those days those thoughts that irk me, that get me into a cuddled up nest in my bed and refract me from wanting to escape. I don't want to escape, can I stay trapped?
What is truth? Really? Is anything truly believable? What about honesty? I feel like these things are too heavy to ponder when I should be reading or writing or editing or applying or paying or walking running singing dancing jumping frantically trying to catch up. Eating? Should I?
I made the best dinner tonight. I "sauteed" tofu and red pepper in butter and then had some orange juice and some crackers. I feel like it was just the best thing ever, I loved it, and that is the bare honest truth. Stay tuned in the next week for characterisation, plots, musings, etc. I have an application (or four) that I need to start writing and preparing, to plump up and polish for the show!
It is autumn, I'm allowed to make county fair jokes.
I want to go out and buy a pumpkin, is that too early too? Why am I so late for some things and early for others? Can't the world just come up to speed with my time? Is tomorrow Thursday? You know what that means? Live jazz in the bull ring. This means I get one relaxing afternoon, with an apple cinnamon tea (and ice cream?) and just some relaxing for my relaxation...Prior to beginning a predetermined stressful group project. How's about we all just take christmas vacation a tad early this year? I want that.
Hope you all have a lovely evening, I still don't know what to do for my night that is left, probably figuring out a tentative reading/writing/editing schedule for next week. Is Thanksgiving a "holiday" if you have a midterm two days later? Nope.
LOVE
Jess :]
and this is why I love it here
[two hundred, seventy[
I started off today as a bad day girl. I woke up in a bad mood, not wanting to leave my nest, and kept pressing snooze, like every other teenage/young adult student who doesn't get enough sleep and yet the pressing, impending doom of early morning classes pokes at us saying "come on, get up, you'll be late or worse, have big puffy sleepy eyes all day."
I have big puffy sleepy eyes today.
I wrote today off as a bad day, I forgot things, I do this a lot, it's one of the downfalls to being blind, I forget that something isn't there, or forget that something is on my floor and step on it and break it, or I forget to throw something out, etc. I try my best to fix all of this, but I'm not perfect. Today I forgot my gym card, and so I brought all of my gym clothes and shoes, carrying them with my laptop to school was so heavy, for nothing. Needless to say I was disappointed with myself.
This all has happened in the last hour and a half, and now I am sitting in the library, reading a novel for a class, ate an apple had some cheerios, some of the problems have resolved, maybe I am no longer a morning person. I have reverted back to my highschool needs, that I need atleast an hour in the morning to warm up to being awake, which sort of bothers me, but maybe it's better to admit to that than to run around spitting lies about my psuedo-morning person mindset. I'm going to do my best to not get in bad moods easilly, but it's the whole slepy-hungry thing, I'm such a loser.
But anyways, things are going better now anyway, I am reading, which is a nice relief, and I am actually feeling better. I wish that I had some banana bread, but I guess I can do without until later.
I will write another post later today, maybe and update on my mood. I have an essay due tomorrow that I still need to write a bibliography for.
I hope you have a great day!
Jess :]
I started off today as a bad day girl. I woke up in a bad mood, not wanting to leave my nest, and kept pressing snooze, like every other teenage/young adult student who doesn't get enough sleep and yet the pressing, impending doom of early morning classes pokes at us saying "come on, get up, you'll be late or worse, have big puffy sleepy eyes all day."
I have big puffy sleepy eyes today.
I wrote today off as a bad day, I forgot things, I do this a lot, it's one of the downfalls to being blind, I forget that something isn't there, or forget that something is on my floor and step on it and break it, or I forget to throw something out, etc. I try my best to fix all of this, but I'm not perfect. Today I forgot my gym card, and so I brought all of my gym clothes and shoes, carrying them with my laptop to school was so heavy, for nothing. Needless to say I was disappointed with myself.
This all has happened in the last hour and a half, and now I am sitting in the library, reading a novel for a class, ate an apple had some cheerios, some of the problems have resolved, maybe I am no longer a morning person. I have reverted back to my highschool needs, that I need atleast an hour in the morning to warm up to being awake, which sort of bothers me, but maybe it's better to admit to that than to run around spitting lies about my psuedo-morning person mindset. I'm going to do my best to not get in bad moods easilly, but it's the whole slepy-hungry thing, I'm such a loser.
But anyways, things are going better now anyway, I am reading, which is a nice relief, and I am actually feeling better. I wish that I had some banana bread, but I guess I can do without until later.
I will write another post later today, maybe and update on my mood. I have an essay due tomorrow that I still need to write a bibliography for.
I hope you have a great day!
Jess :]
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
do I come across like a piglet to you?
[two hundred, sixty-nine]
I think this one shall be short, since I am in the midst of writing an essay. I am super nervous about this essay, because I feel like my thoughts do not come across as clear as I would like them to. I am working hard on it, and editing it, but I still feel like it may turn out to be just terrible, although I hope I am wrong on that. I hate it when I burn my tongue, it ruins everything for a day or two. I also hate it when it's warm in the fall, maybe I'm out on a tree branch alone in the sweltering heat here, but I miss the days where I could wear a sweater and feel comfortable, all day, just sayin'. I suppose that weather is a myth in Canada nowadays, you either get blistering hot or blistering cold, what a wonderous and brief life we live.
Did ya get what I did there? Eh? I saw the opportunity, and I went for it.
I want a hot dog,
take care,
Jess :]
I think this one shall be short, since I am in the midst of writing an essay. I am super nervous about this essay, because I feel like my thoughts do not come across as clear as I would like them to. I am working hard on it, and editing it, but I still feel like it may turn out to be just terrible, although I hope I am wrong on that. I hate it when I burn my tongue, it ruins everything for a day or two. I also hate it when it's warm in the fall, maybe I'm out on a tree branch alone in the sweltering heat here, but I miss the days where I could wear a sweater and feel comfortable, all day, just sayin'. I suppose that weather is a myth in Canada nowadays, you either get blistering hot or blistering cold, what a wonderous and brief life we live.
Did ya get what I did there? Eh? I saw the opportunity, and I went for it.
I want a hot dog,
take care,
Jess :]
what what behind
[two hundred, sixty-eight]
I am ridiculously behind on posts today, so expect two more after this one. I wrote a poem yesterday and I realised when I write poetry I don't particularly think about it, and the same happens when I annotate it. I don't think about the physical, literal, emotional, or have a focus to begin with, but by the end I just know my shit, I know what is meant and what I think is meant anyway. I feel like if there is anything to do with poetry in my head it would be that I just let my thoughts go, just continue them downward it feels like it just goes onward into my psyche, or maybe I should just stop reading Freud.
Maybe this is all a ploy to get some sort of response from my poetry, more than I already have gotten, not that I like writing it a whoooole lot, but I do like the outcome sometimes. Yesterday's poem I feel like I could revise a little bit, but for the most part I enjoy how I can put things like the way I see into words. I also write like I'm an insane person, all the time.
I feel as though my writing contradicts the way people conform to society sometimes, which I know is a huge statement to say, but really it is a large thing to get into words, and I feel a pulling within me as I write to not make sense, to not write within the lines within the box, to write as if unexpected, from different perspectives for example as a child, as a depressed alcoholic deadbeat cancer patient, but there is no way of knowing why all of this comes about.
Maybe I should major in creative writing with a minor in philosophy.
I have been thinking about taking some philosophy courses lately, but it sort of conflicts with the whole honours english major, theatre minor, but can you take a double minor? Wouldn't that be a helluva courseload. All I'd be doing would be essays, research, and thinking. God forbid anyone ever thought.
Think today, people, go forth and uncover ideas.
take care,
Jess :]
I am ridiculously behind on posts today, so expect two more after this one. I wrote a poem yesterday and I realised when I write poetry I don't particularly think about it, and the same happens when I annotate it. I don't think about the physical, literal, emotional, or have a focus to begin with, but by the end I just know my shit, I know what is meant and what I think is meant anyway. I feel like if there is anything to do with poetry in my head it would be that I just let my thoughts go, just continue them downward it feels like it just goes onward into my psyche, or maybe I should just stop reading Freud.
Maybe this is all a ploy to get some sort of response from my poetry, more than I already have gotten, not that I like writing it a whoooole lot, but I do like the outcome sometimes. Yesterday's poem I feel like I could revise a little bit, but for the most part I enjoy how I can put things like the way I see into words. I also write like I'm an insane person, all the time.
I feel as though my writing contradicts the way people conform to society sometimes, which I know is a huge statement to say, but really it is a large thing to get into words, and I feel a pulling within me as I write to not make sense, to not write within the lines within the box, to write as if unexpected, from different perspectives for example as a child, as a depressed alcoholic deadbeat cancer patient, but there is no way of knowing why all of this comes about.
Maybe I should major in creative writing with a minor in philosophy.
I have been thinking about taking some philosophy courses lately, but it sort of conflicts with the whole honours english major, theatre minor, but can you take a double minor? Wouldn't that be a helluva courseload. All I'd be doing would be essays, research, and thinking. God forbid anyone ever thought.
Think today, people, go forth and uncover ideas.
take care,
Jess :]
Monday, September 26, 2011
and what, sat
[two hundred, sixty-seven]
motions, it looks like
to everybody else and I sit there sort of like
like a cough, held back but a little too loud,
and since I couldn't, I didn't,
but everyone else moved out of the way,
and everyone else looked back at me,
and asked me with their eyes,
but alas, I couldn't,
I couldn't see.
but it was just be coughing, I said,
what about being accepted?
nobody looked back anymore, I think,
but how would I know,
how would anybody know in such a dark
sick and dusty whirlwind of
nothing really,
well sometimes something,
and they sparkle,
but mostly just nothing.
I see things like a movement, a motion,
so people don't realise I do,
although only sometimes,
but detail faded, it looks like
like a dusty, dormant, mundane, dull,
blunt, emotionless, loveless,
discontent.
unsatisfied, always,
and yet, I see more everyday,
and I see more everyday.
focus: the lack of sight of people versus my literal lack of sight.
oh baby,
Jess :]
motions, it looks like
to everybody else and I sit there sort of like
like a cough, held back but a little too loud,
and since I couldn't, I didn't,
but everyone else moved out of the way,
and everyone else looked back at me,
and asked me with their eyes,
but alas, I couldn't,
I couldn't see.
but it was just be coughing, I said,
what about being accepted?
nobody looked back anymore, I think,
but how would I know,
how would anybody know in such a dark
sick and dusty whirlwind of
nothing really,
well sometimes something,
and they sparkle,
but mostly just nothing.
I see things like a movement, a motion,
so people don't realise I do,
although only sometimes,
but detail faded, it looks like
like a dusty, dormant, mundane, dull,
blunt, emotionless, loveless,
discontent.
unsatisfied, always,
and yet, I see more everyday,
and I see more everyday.
focus: the lack of sight of people versus my literal lack of sight.
oh baby,
Jess :]
Friday, September 23, 2011
shake along with me
[two hundred sixty-six]
I will not be writing a post for tomorrow or Sunday until Monday, for a very good reason to delay.
I taught myself to braid. I taught myself during Christmas at my grandma's house on top of pink carpet, beside the christmas tree, because they have ornaments from everywhere. There is a santa with a hula skirt from Hawaii and much more, and I braided my hair over and over, and sat thinking about my cousins and how they liked my sister a lot better than me because she was a baby, which I didn't and still don't find fair, but they did they loved playing with her and putting clips in her hair, well the girl ones anyway, and the boy ones played with each other, sort of ignoring me all together. So I sat and braided my hair.
And to this day I suck at braiding, but I still do it sometimes, I still braid in pigtails and make wrinkly curls, or I just leave them in, but I don't go out because they are ugly. I like them though, it makes me feel like Laura Ingelles, she was one of my friends in elementary school when I had no other friends, when the girls wouldn't play house with me because I was different, and the other sporty girls wouldn't talk to me because I didn't like soccer and sang in the choir. I was super loved.
I wrote about things a lot those days, I wrote in this white binder that had slips in it so I could put papers into it, and draw pictures, and I'd write about the pioneer books I'd read, or the kingdoms and knights that I dreamt about, or the certain wizarding characters who I identified with. I spent a lot of time pretending I knew elvish, too.
Nobody likes the chubby girl with glasses who writes about world wars and knows Bring it On and Moulin Rouge off by heart.
I think the worst part about being in elementary school was when, that one recess, that the girls asked me to play house. On the top of a hill by this huge tree that I loved because the roots were big and bumpy and smooth, and there was a bench, and I went to play with them and they made me do things that I didn't want to, but I wanted friends you know so I did that I went to them and played, I didn't want to be the lost cousin from Peru who doesn't speak English, or the mute, or the other things that they made up so really I wasn't walking around writing about them, or so they thought... And I just wanted to write again.
I tried once asking this girl Carly to play a game with me. Instead of playing house, I wanted to play..wow, this is going to be stupid, but play women in a war torn country like Germany or France (countryside, of course) during the second world war, and we had to be in refugee mode and work with the weather and all kinds of things, and really I just wanted a friend, and she sort of didn't understand the game but she got to pretend to have a baby and I was sort of nice to her so she liked that, it was a nice game, everytime a plane crossed the sky I would pretend it was blitzkrieg and scream, she didn't understand that either.
Why I was so weird when I was little makes no difference to me, I loved my imagination and to this day continue my dreams and stories alike to these, because I don't want to forget how it felt to be alone, isolated, because it makes me grateful for my friends and stories now. I have to be normal now, we have to conform now, I think I'd rather let them all bite me, now.
So what if I want to wear high waisted shorts, a plaid overshirt and ankle boots to a country bar? So what if I want to wear leg warmers and a high side ponytail? Why do people assume that I want to spend time with them every moment of every day? Why do people assume I like coffee? Why do I have to listen to top forty music and wan to dance? and have sex? and play drinking games that require me to have one insane, disgusting binge night that makes me puke, puke like a freshman?
Why does the society we live in in this day and time, this contemporary bullshit mess, have to be so chaotic?
Why can't I just sleep myself into novacaine?
It's because I need to be a highly functional, beautiful, skinny, gorgeous, genius, brilliant, happy, psychotic, furiously fast member of society, of course.
yup,
Jess :]
I will not be writing a post for tomorrow or Sunday until Monday, for a very good reason to delay.
I taught myself to braid. I taught myself during Christmas at my grandma's house on top of pink carpet, beside the christmas tree, because they have ornaments from everywhere. There is a santa with a hula skirt from Hawaii and much more, and I braided my hair over and over, and sat thinking about my cousins and how they liked my sister a lot better than me because she was a baby, which I didn't and still don't find fair, but they did they loved playing with her and putting clips in her hair, well the girl ones anyway, and the boy ones played with each other, sort of ignoring me all together. So I sat and braided my hair.
And to this day I suck at braiding, but I still do it sometimes, I still braid in pigtails and make wrinkly curls, or I just leave them in, but I don't go out because they are ugly. I like them though, it makes me feel like Laura Ingelles, she was one of my friends in elementary school when I had no other friends, when the girls wouldn't play house with me because I was different, and the other sporty girls wouldn't talk to me because I didn't like soccer and sang in the choir. I was super loved.
I wrote about things a lot those days, I wrote in this white binder that had slips in it so I could put papers into it, and draw pictures, and I'd write about the pioneer books I'd read, or the kingdoms and knights that I dreamt about, or the certain wizarding characters who I identified with. I spent a lot of time pretending I knew elvish, too.
Nobody likes the chubby girl with glasses who writes about world wars and knows Bring it On and Moulin Rouge off by heart.
I think the worst part about being in elementary school was when, that one recess, that the girls asked me to play house. On the top of a hill by this huge tree that I loved because the roots were big and bumpy and smooth, and there was a bench, and I went to play with them and they made me do things that I didn't want to, but I wanted friends you know so I did that I went to them and played, I didn't want to be the lost cousin from Peru who doesn't speak English, or the mute, or the other things that they made up so really I wasn't walking around writing about them, or so they thought... And I just wanted to write again.
I tried once asking this girl Carly to play a game with me. Instead of playing house, I wanted to play..wow, this is going to be stupid, but play women in a war torn country like Germany or France (countryside, of course) during the second world war, and we had to be in refugee mode and work with the weather and all kinds of things, and really I just wanted a friend, and she sort of didn't understand the game but she got to pretend to have a baby and I was sort of nice to her so she liked that, it was a nice game, everytime a plane crossed the sky I would pretend it was blitzkrieg and scream, she didn't understand that either.
Why I was so weird when I was little makes no difference to me, I loved my imagination and to this day continue my dreams and stories alike to these, because I don't want to forget how it felt to be alone, isolated, because it makes me grateful for my friends and stories now. I have to be normal now, we have to conform now, I think I'd rather let them all bite me, now.
So what if I want to wear high waisted shorts, a plaid overshirt and ankle boots to a country bar? So what if I want to wear leg warmers and a high side ponytail? Why do people assume that I want to spend time with them every moment of every day? Why do people assume I like coffee? Why do I have to listen to top forty music and wan to dance? and have sex? and play drinking games that require me to have one insane, disgusting binge night that makes me puke, puke like a freshman?
Why does the society we live in in this day and time, this contemporary bullshit mess, have to be so chaotic?
Why can't I just sleep myself into novacaine?
It's because I need to be a highly functional, beautiful, skinny, gorgeous, genius, brilliant, happy, psychotic, furiously fast member of society, of course.
yup,
Jess :]
Thursday, September 22, 2011
ONE HUNDRED LEFT
[two hundred, sixty-five]
There are only one hundred blogs left until the end of the project, the end of my resolution, and I don't know what I'm going to do. I want to continue to write regularly, maybe I should do more months where I have a theme, like February. I could do October as a themed month, maybe all prose again, I sort of liked that. I throw some in every now and then, that poem I wrote earlier really hit me in some way, but I don't know I liked it...
I love raspberries. I had a crepe not long ago with raspberries in a "goop," and man, it was delicious. I think that it just makes me feel like I have some different sugars. I don't like just plain raspberries anymore, but with the goop, it's da bomb!
I just started a book for a class that I am really enjoyed, and I haven't read a book like this for a class yet, one that I could genuinely enjoy. I think that's something I've been looking forward to the most since becoming an English major. I love being an english major for so many reasons, but one is the amount of reading, books, texts, and theories that I can be exposed to. I love this.
Why is today turning out to be so positive? I think it's the pending weekend. I know it is, actually, so really that shouldn't be a question. It is because this weekend is this weekend, and things are just falling into place now, closing in on the answer now, thank all mighty bruiser.
I wish I knew elvish.
love always,
Jess :]
There are only one hundred blogs left until the end of the project, the end of my resolution, and I don't know what I'm going to do. I want to continue to write regularly, maybe I should do more months where I have a theme, like February. I could do October as a themed month, maybe all prose again, I sort of liked that. I throw some in every now and then, that poem I wrote earlier really hit me in some way, but I don't know I liked it...
I love raspberries. I had a crepe not long ago with raspberries in a "goop," and man, it was delicious. I think that it just makes me feel like I have some different sugars. I don't like just plain raspberries anymore, but with the goop, it's da bomb!
I just started a book for a class that I am really enjoyed, and I haven't read a book like this for a class yet, one that I could genuinely enjoy. I think that's something I've been looking forward to the most since becoming an English major. I love being an english major for so many reasons, but one is the amount of reading, books, texts, and theories that I can be exposed to. I love this.
Why is today turning out to be so positive? I think it's the pending weekend. I know it is, actually, so really that shouldn't be a question. It is because this weekend is this weekend, and things are just falling into place now, closing in on the answer now, thank all mighty bruiser.
I wish I knew elvish.
love always,
Jess :]
freshwater
[two hundred, sixty-four]
It was the current, I thought that
beat against my chest like clubs,
shrubs and ducks, but I was sitting
sitting in the tub,
against the world it pushed down on me,
the white walls surrounding me,
drowning me until the bubbles from my nose
broke free,
and the cheshire cat smiled cat, it came back
the cat,
because it seems that it always flows back,
it does the water, the world,
it all comes back sometimes,
so it just beats,
not necessarilly down,
or around,
but it keeps me down, alright,
it keeps us all down,
a wet, struggling gravity,
that only if we took the time,
to open our eyes or swim on by,
would we realise or take the time to find
that it is just us here, no saviour
no superhero cape and tails,
no utility belt safety net,
no masked crusader with boots and a whip,
because, didn't you
hear,
that heroes can't
swim?
focus: I don't even know.
Jess :]
It was the current, I thought that
beat against my chest like clubs,
shrubs and ducks, but I was sitting
sitting in the tub,
against the world it pushed down on me,
the white walls surrounding me,
drowning me until the bubbles from my nose
broke free,
and the cheshire cat smiled cat, it came back
the cat,
because it seems that it always flows back,
it does the water, the world,
it all comes back sometimes,
so it just beats,
not necessarilly down,
or around,
but it keeps me down, alright,
it keeps us all down,
a wet, struggling gravity,
that only if we took the time,
to open our eyes or swim on by,
would we realise or take the time to find
that it is just us here, no saviour
no superhero cape and tails,
no utility belt safety net,
no masked crusader with boots and a whip,
because, didn't you
hear,
that heroes can't
swim?
focus: I don't even know.
Jess :]
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
well i tripped, i fell down, naked
ptwo hundred, sixty three]
I decided to pause my reading for two minutes to write a short bit. I used to be intensely in love with this band called BILLY TALENT, and I still remember every single word to their songs on their first two albums, hence the title of said post. I think that most people underestimate the power of one band, of lyric, in its true, raw form, that is not relatively commercialised to a point, something that writes for a whole audience a nation as a whole, a generation of people stuck and feeling low, a mass of audience that needs something to hold on to, a branch in the drowning stream. I don't believe BILLY TALENT was that band, but it was that sort of band for me. I believed in them, I wished that I could write songs and words and poetry in such a way as they did. If you want to know what I mean, check out their song.... Standing in the Rain. I know it sounds stupid at first, listen to it once, then listen to it again with the lyrics up. I do this for most of the songs that I am told to listen to, because I never know if the intention is for the instrumentals, the lyrics, both, or just the feel of the song. This is a song that I will remember for the rest of my life, for so many different reasons.
Milk carton mug shot baby missing since nineteen eighty three.
Jess :]
I decided to pause my reading for two minutes to write a short bit. I used to be intensely in love with this band called BILLY TALENT, and I still remember every single word to their songs on their first two albums, hence the title of said post. I think that most people underestimate the power of one band, of lyric, in its true, raw form, that is not relatively commercialised to a point, something that writes for a whole audience a nation as a whole, a generation of people stuck and feeling low, a mass of audience that needs something to hold on to, a branch in the drowning stream. I don't believe BILLY TALENT was that band, but it was that sort of band for me. I believed in them, I wished that I could write songs and words and poetry in such a way as they did. If you want to know what I mean, check out their song.... Standing in the Rain. I know it sounds stupid at first, listen to it once, then listen to it again with the lyrics up. I do this for most of the songs that I am told to listen to, because I never know if the intention is for the instrumentals, the lyrics, both, or just the feel of the song. This is a song that I will remember for the rest of my life, for so many different reasons.
Milk carton mug shot baby missing since nineteen eighty three.
Jess :]
Monday, September 19, 2011
kids, I don't need help
[two hundred, sixty-two]
Everyone gives opinions. They give opinions on the outfits you choose, the way you speak, the books you read, everything comes out in some obligetory opinion that people feel the need to tell you to improve your essence. I have been subject and the giver of opinions, and to be frank they are subjective, and incredibly hard to anchor.
If you want to maintain happiness, and continue living your self-propelled and fufilled life, you need to propell yourself, and not count on other's opinions. Don't care what people say, even if they are negative about it, because in the end it is just your life. Making decisions falls in the category of needing opinons, and that is where the going gets rough in my opinon (LAWL).
Regardless of what the opinon, it makes it hard to really figure out what you want for yourself, and if what you want is really what you want. Follow your heart, follow your gut feeling, if it feels good, do it, if it hurts, don't. I feel like some words to live by are all contradictory to one another, do things that are good for you in your opinion, unless you are ill in the head, in which case, get that checked out.
What I'm trying to say here is that nobody should be exclusively influenced by an outside party that is not directly you, or a value/moral/belief of yours. What's so bad with thinking for yourself? Doing something against mainstream ideals? What's so bad with loving what you do even if no one else loves it?
Why did I write about this today? I had so many other things to write about. I was going to write about making mistakes, yoga, and my room mate's room change on a whim, but all of these things fell to the waist-side of my idea that everyone should be happy in their decisions, and shouldn't have to live through the ones that they are only making for other people. Just, be happy.
That is all, I guess, but I could write more. I could write more about how I think that everyone should just like everybody, and nothing should be complicated, or that distance should be eleviated by teleportation or something fancy along those lines. I think that family and ffirneds are most important, as is love and happiness, and if something like prestige money or power is coming in the way of that, change that shit up.
love and cheers,
Jess :]
Everyone gives opinions. They give opinions on the outfits you choose, the way you speak, the books you read, everything comes out in some obligetory opinion that people feel the need to tell you to improve your essence. I have been subject and the giver of opinions, and to be frank they are subjective, and incredibly hard to anchor.
If you want to maintain happiness, and continue living your self-propelled and fufilled life, you need to propell yourself, and not count on other's opinions. Don't care what people say, even if they are negative about it, because in the end it is just your life. Making decisions falls in the category of needing opinons, and that is where the going gets rough in my opinon (LAWL).
Regardless of what the opinon, it makes it hard to really figure out what you want for yourself, and if what you want is really what you want. Follow your heart, follow your gut feeling, if it feels good, do it, if it hurts, don't. I feel like some words to live by are all contradictory to one another, do things that are good for you in your opinion, unless you are ill in the head, in which case, get that checked out.
What I'm trying to say here is that nobody should be exclusively influenced by an outside party that is not directly you, or a value/moral/belief of yours. What's so bad with thinking for yourself? Doing something against mainstream ideals? What's so bad with loving what you do even if no one else loves it?
Why did I write about this today? I had so many other things to write about. I was going to write about making mistakes, yoga, and my room mate's room change on a whim, but all of these things fell to the waist-side of my idea that everyone should be happy in their decisions, and shouldn't have to live through the ones that they are only making for other people. Just, be happy.
That is all, I guess, but I could write more. I could write more about how I think that everyone should just like everybody, and nothing should be complicated, or that distance should be eleviated by teleportation or something fancy along those lines. I think that family and ffirneds are most important, as is love and happiness, and if something like prestige money or power is coming in the way of that, change that shit up.
love and cheers,
Jess :]
Sunday, September 18, 2011
and what is dark without breath?
[two hundred, sixty-one]
I am in an angry mood, and it came from nowhere, and it is irritating me. I don't know what to write about, I don't want to do homework. I don't want to eat but I'm hungry I don't want to sleep but I'm tired I don't want to talk but I'm lonely I don't want to drink 'cause I'm broke. I'm tired of having to be upbeat and happy all of the time, I'm tired of always thinking about things. I want to meditate again, but I don't want to take the time for it. I want to be healthy but I want to eat cookies everyday. I want to treat myself but I don't want to spend money or time. I hate time.
I hate time. Time is the essence of my being and time is my cryptonite. Time is the reason that I don't have reason to do things for myself. Time is what takes away youth and beauty, and time is our downfall. Time is what restricts us from happiness, time is what restricts us from love, time is the downfall of every person. Time kills us all.
uplifting, I know.
Jess
I am in an angry mood, and it came from nowhere, and it is irritating me. I don't know what to write about, I don't want to do homework. I don't want to eat but I'm hungry I don't want to sleep but I'm tired I don't want to talk but I'm lonely I don't want to drink 'cause I'm broke. I'm tired of having to be upbeat and happy all of the time, I'm tired of always thinking about things. I want to meditate again, but I don't want to take the time for it. I want to be healthy but I want to eat cookies everyday. I want to treat myself but I don't want to spend money or time. I hate time.
I hate time. Time is the essence of my being and time is my cryptonite. Time is the reason that I don't have reason to do things for myself. Time is what takes away youth and beauty, and time is our downfall. Time is what restricts us from happiness, time is what restricts us from love, time is the downfall of every person. Time kills us all.
uplifting, I know.
Jess
bad bred
ptwo hundred, sixty]
I have been having a hard time thinking critically lately, and I am trying to figure out why that is. I read certain things such as children's books, certain historical texts and documents, and articles and I find myself just understanding what is being said, not that of which could be analysed, and I think this is because of exhaustion.
I have been ready for sleeping for a while, and thankfully I have not been hit by the insomnia stick lately and I can actually sleep, but it is still unfortunate when I wake up in the morning still tired, which I think I'm going to change by sleeping a lot earlier than I do right now, and I am hopefully going to stick to that resolution.
Sleeping is difficult and different for me than other people. Some people do their nightly routine, and just flop into bed, no struggle for sleep, no praying for the sandman's visit, but just slumber. I, on the other hand, have some weird things that are needed in order to be able to get into the routine of sleep. I need everything that I had planned to do that day, scheduled in, to be done, I need all of the people in my life to be happy and at peace, and I need to be tired. It needs to be dark and night time for me to sleep also, unless I am in a moving vehicle or watching a movie in the dark.
These terms are sometimes contradicted, but not often. This has been usual for the summer anyway, I used to have to be watching a disc from Planet Earth in order to sleep, listening to the radio, not my ipod, I needed to have just had a shower, etc. I have weird sleeping habits, but most of all I have tried to adapt my sleeping to other people's schedules, and recently have switched it back to me me me. Being a selfish sleeper, and that is something that you need to be selfish about.
Your basic human needs and wants are thigns that are usually okay to be selfish about. If you're hungry, tired, energetic, feeling down, slow, etc. These things are imperative to act upon. If you want to take a half hour nap before reading because you don't think your eyes will stay open, that is something that you need to do, and you need to endulge yourself in that.
Do what will make yourself most healthy, happy, and at peace.
I talk a lot about peace I've noticed, and I don't mean all the time about world peace, miss universe answers that mean the children in Africa are out of poverty the third world countries are out of turmoil, however much that that abstract unpeace bothers me, I mean more at home. I mean in your head, peace of mind, coming to terms with the darkness in the world and carrying your own mental flashlight. I always say that in my mind there is a garden of positivty, I will plant my seeds in you. That could be taken as a sexual euphemism for sex, or it could just be me trying to impart my healthy peace of mind in other people, who need a little shot of positivty sometimes.
Which is something I pride myself in, I love being positive. I am not saying I'm always positive, but I literally have had a happy place in my mind since I was in second grade, for the obvious reasons that nobody wanted to play house with me at recess so I would spend it day dreaming about places I'd rather be, like Egyppt or England or Medieval times, with different friends and adventures and lives, I think that's why I love stories so much, it just emphasizes my imagination. And I have not lost those daydreams, nor has the subjectification for me to have them...
So if you're tired and need a nap, or need some peace of mind, take a couple of cuttings from my peace garden, I have some daisies and mums for rent, the only thing I can ask is if you do take some plant it, water it, neglect a little but always come back to it, and finally... When I need some peace cuttings myself, always be open.
love,
Jess :]
I have been having a hard time thinking critically lately, and I am trying to figure out why that is. I read certain things such as children's books, certain historical texts and documents, and articles and I find myself just understanding what is being said, not that of which could be analysed, and I think this is because of exhaustion.
I have been ready for sleeping for a while, and thankfully I have not been hit by the insomnia stick lately and I can actually sleep, but it is still unfortunate when I wake up in the morning still tired, which I think I'm going to change by sleeping a lot earlier than I do right now, and I am hopefully going to stick to that resolution.
Sleeping is difficult and different for me than other people. Some people do their nightly routine, and just flop into bed, no struggle for sleep, no praying for the sandman's visit, but just slumber. I, on the other hand, have some weird things that are needed in order to be able to get into the routine of sleep. I need everything that I had planned to do that day, scheduled in, to be done, I need all of the people in my life to be happy and at peace, and I need to be tired. It needs to be dark and night time for me to sleep also, unless I am in a moving vehicle or watching a movie in the dark.
These terms are sometimes contradicted, but not often. This has been usual for the summer anyway, I used to have to be watching a disc from Planet Earth in order to sleep, listening to the radio, not my ipod, I needed to have just had a shower, etc. I have weird sleeping habits, but most of all I have tried to adapt my sleeping to other people's schedules, and recently have switched it back to me me me. Being a selfish sleeper, and that is something that you need to be selfish about.
Your basic human needs and wants are thigns that are usually okay to be selfish about. If you're hungry, tired, energetic, feeling down, slow, etc. These things are imperative to act upon. If you want to take a half hour nap before reading because you don't think your eyes will stay open, that is something that you need to do, and you need to endulge yourself in that.
Do what will make yourself most healthy, happy, and at peace.
I talk a lot about peace I've noticed, and I don't mean all the time about world peace, miss universe answers that mean the children in Africa are out of poverty the third world countries are out of turmoil, however much that that abstract unpeace bothers me, I mean more at home. I mean in your head, peace of mind, coming to terms with the darkness in the world and carrying your own mental flashlight. I always say that in my mind there is a garden of positivty, I will plant my seeds in you. That could be taken as a sexual euphemism for sex, or it could just be me trying to impart my healthy peace of mind in other people, who need a little shot of positivty sometimes.
Which is something I pride myself in, I love being positive. I am not saying I'm always positive, but I literally have had a happy place in my mind since I was in second grade, for the obvious reasons that nobody wanted to play house with me at recess so I would spend it day dreaming about places I'd rather be, like Egyppt or England or Medieval times, with different friends and adventures and lives, I think that's why I love stories so much, it just emphasizes my imagination. And I have not lost those daydreams, nor has the subjectification for me to have them...
So if you're tired and need a nap, or need some peace of mind, take a couple of cuttings from my peace garden, I have some daisies and mums for rent, the only thing I can ask is if you do take some plant it, water it, neglect a little but always come back to it, and finally... When I need some peace cuttings myself, always be open.
love,
Jess :]
Friday, September 16, 2011
my toes are freezing today
[two hundred, fifty-nine]
I love Madonna, and Michael Jackson. Today, I was singing 'don't stop till you get enough' for like an hour, just loudly, everywhere. Do you ever find a couple of good songs and really just dig into them? That happens to me with every song imagineable that I like, so there is just a small problem in keeping up with lyrics and all that jazz. There is specifically a MJ song where my sister and I continuously think, actually, it is don't stop till you get enough:
get in the car
take your clothes off
don't stop till you get enough
We are aware that those are not the correct lyrics, however, we intend to just continue on with those. We like those, and that's what I'm digging into lately. just singing along and having a good time. Who cares if those aren't the right words? It's better than sitting on your ass during a concert, clapping along. sing laaaaa if you gotta, but get into the passion of the music, just do it.
Coming to you, just like a prayer, from me, who continuously will prod and push you towards the betterment of music... Like MJ and Madonna. Today it just happened to be eighties falshback, ta-da!
take care,
Jess :]
I love Madonna, and Michael Jackson. Today, I was singing 'don't stop till you get enough' for like an hour, just loudly, everywhere. Do you ever find a couple of good songs and really just dig into them? That happens to me with every song imagineable that I like, so there is just a small problem in keeping up with lyrics and all that jazz. There is specifically a MJ song where my sister and I continuously think, actually, it is don't stop till you get enough:
get in the car
take your clothes off
don't stop till you get enough
We are aware that those are not the correct lyrics, however, we intend to just continue on with those. We like those, and that's what I'm digging into lately. just singing along and having a good time. Who cares if those aren't the right words? It's better than sitting on your ass during a concert, clapping along. sing laaaaa if you gotta, but get into the passion of the music, just do it.
Coming to you, just like a prayer, from me, who continuously will prod and push you towards the betterment of music... Like MJ and Madonna. Today it just happened to be eighties falshback, ta-da!
take care,
Jess :]
Thursday, September 15, 2011
applause couches under sunny sea highways
[two hundred, fifty-eight]
Why is happiness so unattainable in the easiest of conditions. I'm blaming it on a form of homesickness, or just something is wrong with me. Everyone says taht, oh there's something wrong with me, and they are probably some pretentious bitch with an attitude problem, but it makes me think and feel like there may be something seriously wrong, something wrong here now.
I've been thinking things like my dreams are better than being up and awake, better than seeing the people I love. Why do I feel like this is the way I should live? To be honest, I did that, I lived for the dreams and I ended up being so disappointed with reality that it turned into..well, when it got too unbearable, I started reading again and doing things that I used to like to do. Read, and write, and watch different underground interesting movies and going for drives and being silly again, dancing to Moulin Rouge again, and I think I need that now.
I'm going to give it a try, baby, 'cause I need to be okay, and I won't be living for the night time anymore, unless it's going out with the people I love. I'm going to read for me again, I am going to work out for me, and I'm going to sing again.. and dance. I never dance anymore. I haven't lost myself, I'm just struggling to keep myself from being smothered from some psychosis, some undecipherable over powering force that drips down my thoughts and freezes. It removes my will, but I've got more fire than that.
I want to be happy, I have determination.
I just need a little help from my friends..
As much as I may not be happy, or okay with myself being in this unsorted feeling and state of uncertainty, I'm not forgetting that I have people to care about, and people who I depend on depend on me. I'm not going anywhere, I'm still here, I'm just gonna need a little bit more of a push to get a reaction, and I'm trying my best here, kid.
love always,
Jess :]
ps. three squeezes
Why is happiness so unattainable in the easiest of conditions. I'm blaming it on a form of homesickness, or just something is wrong with me. Everyone says taht, oh there's something wrong with me, and they are probably some pretentious bitch with an attitude problem, but it makes me think and feel like there may be something seriously wrong, something wrong here now.
I've been thinking things like my dreams are better than being up and awake, better than seeing the people I love. Why do I feel like this is the way I should live? To be honest, I did that, I lived for the dreams and I ended up being so disappointed with reality that it turned into..well, when it got too unbearable, I started reading again and doing things that I used to like to do. Read, and write, and watch different underground interesting movies and going for drives and being silly again, dancing to Moulin Rouge again, and I think I need that now.
I'm going to give it a try, baby, 'cause I need to be okay, and I won't be living for the night time anymore, unless it's going out with the people I love. I'm going to read for me again, I am going to work out for me, and I'm going to sing again.. and dance. I never dance anymore. I haven't lost myself, I'm just struggling to keep myself from being smothered from some psychosis, some undecipherable over powering force that drips down my thoughts and freezes. It removes my will, but I've got more fire than that.
I want to be happy, I have determination.
I just need a little help from my friends..
As much as I may not be happy, or okay with myself being in this unsorted feeling and state of uncertainty, I'm not forgetting that I have people to care about, and people who I depend on depend on me. I'm not going anywhere, I'm still here, I'm just gonna need a little bit more of a push to get a reaction, and I'm trying my best here, kid.
love always,
Jess :]
ps. three squeezes
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
remain and we wonder when
[two hundred, fifty-seven!]
In a softly lit room, on a cold windy evening in the fall time, a small boy sat biting his lips on the floor. The rug under him was blue and torn in areas where he had clearly sat before, it was not rotting, it had a used look about it. He sat, nonetheless, thinking about the second half of recess today, the five minutes that Derrick had stolen his favourite baseball hat and he had to chase him all over the grass to get it back. It wasn't a big event, it wasn't even something that was worth getting upset over, the Miss Teacher told him it wasn't worth even crying over, Derrick had given it back eventually, after laughing at him. Derrick had told everyone that the boy's jeans were not blue but were the colour of the clear blue sea, and then convinced them that he wore no underpants.
This was absurd, this happened everyday, and as the boy sat in his room, biting his lips and leaning miserably against his mattress beside him, he wondered why his jeans would be clear blue like the sea. That wasn't even a little bit possible, how cold he would get if they were. He did not cry, this time, because thinking was only thinking, it only happened in his head, and there was no Derrick sitting across from him on this carpet, stealing his hat and his happy after all.
The wind outside was shaking the glass in the windows, and the boy could hear the cracks and the ground up dirt in the ridges between the glass and the window frame rustling along with the pounds of wind. It wasn't a storm, but windy and cold and it took a lot not to run away right now. He'd have to wait until he was at school.
Derrick wouldn't steal his hat, Miss Teacher wouldn't brush him off again, the girls wouldn't laugh at his clear blue sea jeans, he liked his jeans. He'd pack his bag tonight, he'd put his toothbrush and his book and his bear, and some extra socks just incase it rained, and he would leave that very next day at recess. The boy continued to sit, unmoving, other than his tiny white-ish teeth coming down softly first and then hard on his bottom lip. He was going to go.
And be swept away with the wind, up with the leaves that were to fall from their trees soon, up with the birds and the bugs and the airplanes. He'd be off free to run and read at his own leisure, no more worrying about school or Derrick, or anything other than being. Just to be, maybe, far off in the woods, maybe. Far off in a small cabin fit for a small boy, a small boy in blue clear sea jeans, and a lucky baseball cap. A small boy who reads books and bites his lips, and believes in beasts.
He knew many.
focus: integration between characterisation and detail, with narrative, sort of unfinished for obvious descriptive reasons (probably only obvious to me) but I sort of liked the boy, he seems like a neat venture, maybe his mom could be the woman who can't recognise, and that's another reason why he runs away. I focused on bullying because I feel like yeah there's tons of books about it, but why aren't they written first hand? And why does the protagonist continuously overcome? I'm foreseeing the boy not overcoming for about five or six years to come. He's intended to be in about second grade.
Jess :]
In a softly lit room, on a cold windy evening in the fall time, a small boy sat biting his lips on the floor. The rug under him was blue and torn in areas where he had clearly sat before, it was not rotting, it had a used look about it. He sat, nonetheless, thinking about the second half of recess today, the five minutes that Derrick had stolen his favourite baseball hat and he had to chase him all over the grass to get it back. It wasn't a big event, it wasn't even something that was worth getting upset over, the Miss Teacher told him it wasn't worth even crying over, Derrick had given it back eventually, after laughing at him. Derrick had told everyone that the boy's jeans were not blue but were the colour of the clear blue sea, and then convinced them that he wore no underpants.
This was absurd, this happened everyday, and as the boy sat in his room, biting his lips and leaning miserably against his mattress beside him, he wondered why his jeans would be clear blue like the sea. That wasn't even a little bit possible, how cold he would get if they were. He did not cry, this time, because thinking was only thinking, it only happened in his head, and there was no Derrick sitting across from him on this carpet, stealing his hat and his happy after all.
The wind outside was shaking the glass in the windows, and the boy could hear the cracks and the ground up dirt in the ridges between the glass and the window frame rustling along with the pounds of wind. It wasn't a storm, but windy and cold and it took a lot not to run away right now. He'd have to wait until he was at school.
Derrick wouldn't steal his hat, Miss Teacher wouldn't brush him off again, the girls wouldn't laugh at his clear blue sea jeans, he liked his jeans. He'd pack his bag tonight, he'd put his toothbrush and his book and his bear, and some extra socks just incase it rained, and he would leave that very next day at recess. The boy continued to sit, unmoving, other than his tiny white-ish teeth coming down softly first and then hard on his bottom lip. He was going to go.
And be swept away with the wind, up with the leaves that were to fall from their trees soon, up with the birds and the bugs and the airplanes. He'd be off free to run and read at his own leisure, no more worrying about school or Derrick, or anything other than being. Just to be, maybe, far off in the woods, maybe. Far off in a small cabin fit for a small boy, a small boy in blue clear sea jeans, and a lucky baseball cap. A small boy who reads books and bites his lips, and believes in beasts.
He knew many.
focus: integration between characterisation and detail, with narrative, sort of unfinished for obvious descriptive reasons (probably only obvious to me) but I sort of liked the boy, he seems like a neat venture, maybe his mom could be the woman who can't recognise, and that's another reason why he runs away. I focused on bullying because I feel like yeah there's tons of books about it, but why aren't they written first hand? And why does the protagonist continuously overcome? I'm foreseeing the boy not overcoming for about five or six years to come. He's intended to be in about second grade.
Jess :]
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
could we have une petite chat?
[two hundred, fifty-sox]
I've been writing this blog forever it seems, and now that I'm back in school, it's becoming a genuine routine to look up the number I'm on, and proceed with writing a post. I feel like most of my thoughts are becoming repetetive and I fear that I sound boring... But I'm beginning not to care what people decide about my writing, it may be a mystery, but everybody loves a good detective.
I saw a short phrase the other day from one of my favourite authors that sparked my interest in such a way that I took to internalising the concept. "An observer of the Universe," something so simple, but yet so general and broad that makes me feel a short signifigance, if only for the duration of reading it.
I like the feeling of being an observer, I truely feel like that is my niche in the world, to observe, and regard the happenings and situations with care and fragility. I want to hug the world sometimes, as I want to persuade the disbelievers of so many loves, happiness, and peace. I think that the universe is a worthy area to observe, as in it contains most of what I am interested in.
The universe has no boundaries, no humanly=concieved boundaries anyway, and I feel like mastering those observations in even a physical, literate, or vocal form ruins most of the simplicity within the conceptions of the universe. I want to seek answers and theories from every field, from every ocean, under bridges and through locked doors. I want questions to arise that I can search, I can observe answers in cultures that are unlike my familiar own. I want these things, and yet I have hardly left North America.
I don't feel like travelling is even necessary to find all of these things. The universe is binary, triologic, quadrapedic, these aren't words, but I can;t think of a numerous contained word that describes the universe. It is unnumerable, it is infiite. I read a novel this summer where the main character took pride in a slow catch phrase that was simple, in utter beauty, and took into it what I feel that the universe strongly holds true to anyone who could bear to look up and out.
I feel infinite.
Infinity, to infinity and beyond, the universe is above that inifinite number. Love holds no boundaries either, neither does happiness, or peace. These are my truths or basic theories that I base my mindset, my goals, passions, queries on. I dig into the energies of people, the positivites of the surrounding societies, cultures's fresh faces and passion. I wish that more people in the world held the hand of passion and grasped it tightly, to see the universe in a way of incredible wonder.
So, if you have not yet caught my drift, take the hand of passion today and breathe wind of wonder. I sound psychotic, but I feel like the psyche reflects that of chaos inside the universe, I use that term with small allusion to space, as the universe holds us all in its entity. To truely understand what I mean, you must never be ignorant to see and accept anything and everything around you.
cheers,
Jess :]
I've been writing this blog forever it seems, and now that I'm back in school, it's becoming a genuine routine to look up the number I'm on, and proceed with writing a post. I feel like most of my thoughts are becoming repetetive and I fear that I sound boring... But I'm beginning not to care what people decide about my writing, it may be a mystery, but everybody loves a good detective.
I saw a short phrase the other day from one of my favourite authors that sparked my interest in such a way that I took to internalising the concept. "An observer of the Universe," something so simple, but yet so general and broad that makes me feel a short signifigance, if only for the duration of reading it.
I like the feeling of being an observer, I truely feel like that is my niche in the world, to observe, and regard the happenings and situations with care and fragility. I want to hug the world sometimes, as I want to persuade the disbelievers of so many loves, happiness, and peace. I think that the universe is a worthy area to observe, as in it contains most of what I am interested in.
The universe has no boundaries, no humanly=concieved boundaries anyway, and I feel like mastering those observations in even a physical, literate, or vocal form ruins most of the simplicity within the conceptions of the universe. I want to seek answers and theories from every field, from every ocean, under bridges and through locked doors. I want questions to arise that I can search, I can observe answers in cultures that are unlike my familiar own. I want these things, and yet I have hardly left North America.
I don't feel like travelling is even necessary to find all of these things. The universe is binary, triologic, quadrapedic, these aren't words, but I can;t think of a numerous contained word that describes the universe. It is unnumerable, it is infiite. I read a novel this summer where the main character took pride in a slow catch phrase that was simple, in utter beauty, and took into it what I feel that the universe strongly holds true to anyone who could bear to look up and out.
I feel infinite.
Infinity, to infinity and beyond, the universe is above that inifinite number. Love holds no boundaries either, neither does happiness, or peace. These are my truths or basic theories that I base my mindset, my goals, passions, queries on. I dig into the energies of people, the positivites of the surrounding societies, cultures's fresh faces and passion. I wish that more people in the world held the hand of passion and grasped it tightly, to see the universe in a way of incredible wonder.
So, if you have not yet caught my drift, take the hand of passion today and breathe wind of wonder. I sound psychotic, but I feel like the psyche reflects that of chaos inside the universe, I use that term with small allusion to space, as the universe holds us all in its entity. To truely understand what I mean, you must never be ignorant to see and accept anything and everything around you.
cheers,
Jess :]
Monday, September 12, 2011
spirit in the NIGHT
ptwo hundred, fifty-five]
I sit down to write this short blog, and I am listening to the friends theme song in the background as I am about to cuddle into my bed and moisturise and watch friends. It is my routine alone time, which some people don't quite understand. I need time and space before I go to sleep to cool down, reflect, and basically just be alone before I can sleep. I need to do what I want, be as ugly and stretch as much as I want, and I need to be alone.
I don't mean to be insulting, I just like to have time to myself before bed. There are times when I need to be around people. There are times where I spend the night with people, sleepovers with best friends, boyfriends, where I just need that couple of minutes in the bathroom or in bed to just kind of calm myself down, get into jammies, create a peaceful mind and space, and get into sleeping zone.
I think it's cause of the insomnia.
Or just the anziety of not sleeping. Or just the fact that I don't mind being alone sometimes. I love having times where I can be by myself and happy, entertained, and in a generally solid stable peace of mind. I think it's lead from my meditation that I do before bed as well, but that's a whole different entry.
So if you are going to sleep today which I hope you are, do take a tiny little smidge of a moment before you sleep for yourself, because you deserve it. And don't forget that you deserve that you time, because you are worth it. I know that.
love and hugs,
Jess :]
I sit down to write this short blog, and I am listening to the friends theme song in the background as I am about to cuddle into my bed and moisturise and watch friends. It is my routine alone time, which some people don't quite understand. I need time and space before I go to sleep to cool down, reflect, and basically just be alone before I can sleep. I need to do what I want, be as ugly and stretch as much as I want, and I need to be alone.
I don't mean to be insulting, I just like to have time to myself before bed. There are times when I need to be around people. There are times where I spend the night with people, sleepovers with best friends, boyfriends, where I just need that couple of minutes in the bathroom or in bed to just kind of calm myself down, get into jammies, create a peaceful mind and space, and get into sleeping zone.
I think it's cause of the insomnia.
Or just the anziety of not sleeping. Or just the fact that I don't mind being alone sometimes. I love having times where I can be by myself and happy, entertained, and in a generally solid stable peace of mind. I think it's lead from my meditation that I do before bed as well, but that's a whole different entry.
So if you are going to sleep today which I hope you are, do take a tiny little smidge of a moment before you sleep for yourself, because you deserve it. And don't forget that you deserve that you time, because you are worth it. I know that.
love and hugs,
Jess :]
Sunday, September 11, 2011
great, great....great.
[two hundred, fifty-four]
I wish there was chicken in my freezer, or more meat, I could really dig some meat. I would also really like to have some sort of junk food, preferably a pastry, in my kitchen. I cried a lot this morning about people who are dying everywhere, or the people that I can't help, or the people that hurt. I wish people didn't hurt. I wish that people weren't so mean to everyone. Ben was like, why? I like sticky notes that are colourful. I think that everyone should have their own fishbowl. I need to go on a road trip from coast to coast in Canada. What if the world wasn't plain? What if we had a crevass the size of a train under everybody's feet? I like the colour pink. F is the letter of FRIENDFAILFOCUS. I wish I had an accent. Glasses suck, like, the ones for your eyes. I wish he read this when we were dating so he would've seen that I was not as bad as I am...
yup.
JEss :]
I wish there was chicken in my freezer, or more meat, I could really dig some meat. I would also really like to have some sort of junk food, preferably a pastry, in my kitchen. I cried a lot this morning about people who are dying everywhere, or the people that I can't help, or the people that hurt. I wish people didn't hurt. I wish that people weren't so mean to everyone. Ben was like, why? I like sticky notes that are colourful. I think that everyone should have their own fishbowl. I need to go on a road trip from coast to coast in Canada. What if the world wasn't plain? What if we had a crevass the size of a train under everybody's feet? I like the colour pink. F is the letter of FRIENDFAILFOCUS. I wish I had an accent. Glasses suck, like, the ones for your eyes. I wish he read this when we were dating so he would've seen that I was not as bad as I am...
yup.
JEss :]
fiftythreefiftyfour
ptwo hundred, fifty-three]
When you hear someone telling you a story, you listen and smile, but what you are really thinking is how to premember and continue, how to absorb and process, how to sympathize, how to make sure that interest was maintained but the body language may not be cohesive with the thoughts but it would work it will work when you continue to listen. Listening is important.
But if you listen and it goes through your head, and it goes through the motions of listening but the ears don't absorb anything you end up being an incredibly boring reciever. Telephone game, recieve the playing.
So if you have people to listen to, please go and listen anyway, work that much harder to be into the conversation, since there will be one day when you are going to need someone to listen... Hopefully someone will be there for you.
love,
Jess :]
When you hear someone telling you a story, you listen and smile, but what you are really thinking is how to premember and continue, how to absorb and process, how to sympathize, how to make sure that interest was maintained but the body language may not be cohesive with the thoughts but it would work it will work when you continue to listen. Listening is important.
But if you listen and it goes through your head, and it goes through the motions of listening but the ears don't absorb anything you end up being an incredibly boring reciever. Telephone game, recieve the playing.
So if you have people to listen to, please go and listen anyway, work that much harder to be into the conversation, since there will be one day when you are going to need someone to listen... Hopefully someone will be there for you.
love,
Jess :]
Friday, September 9, 2011
wring me out
[two hundred, fifty-two]
I think that's right, but what does everybody else know, right? I'm wrong, because there isn't much to learn when you're surrounded by society. It's too much to handle when you take it with a handful, in an entire handful, if there is anything in the hand it is the strings the cord the branch. Stability. Stable within the lengths and mirrors of the rooms we all live in, and there isn't anyone saying the truth. But there is no truth, and there are no single stream running fish swimming lines, lines that we follow like two two by fours. Straight? Am I? I think that's a question, I think that's a question for the mass hearted people. The good wholesome ones in their pre-war apartments and their victorian two stories, what's their stories? They don't yell it out loud or answer questions or relive what they know. They don't believe what they know. Tradition for them is history myth for us. It is uncalled for for us. Take a step back.
focus: slavery, societal norms, absssshtract
Jess :]
I think that's right, but what does everybody else know, right? I'm wrong, because there isn't much to learn when you're surrounded by society. It's too much to handle when you take it with a handful, in an entire handful, if there is anything in the hand it is the strings the cord the branch. Stability. Stable within the lengths and mirrors of the rooms we all live in, and there isn't anyone saying the truth. But there is no truth, and there are no single stream running fish swimming lines, lines that we follow like two two by fours. Straight? Am I? I think that's a question, I think that's a question for the mass hearted people. The good wholesome ones in their pre-war apartments and their victorian two stories, what's their stories? They don't yell it out loud or answer questions or relive what they know. They don't believe what they know. Tradition for them is history myth for us. It is uncalled for for us. Take a step back.
focus: slavery, societal norms, absssshtract
Jess :]
i am a post behind
[two hundred, fifty-one]
This is going to be kept short, but I started classes yesterday, and coincidentally had no time to post a blog. So classes are going well, I have been to each one now, and they are all going to be pretty interesting, but also incredibly heavy on reading and going to tire me out! I do enjoy english, and I love theatre, but there is something about eight thirty classes that kind of make the whole day a turn off. Let's be honest, I want two hours of class in the afternoon a day, wouldn't everyone?
So I am going out tonight, and I intend to come home and get into jammies and sleep. This is not a stretched expectation since that is usually the protocall for a nighttime routine. I hope everyone has a similar night.
Ph, and for the record, my blogs are for me, so if you don't like what I write, don't read it, I don't really care.
that is all,
Jess :]
This is going to be kept short, but I started classes yesterday, and coincidentally had no time to post a blog. So classes are going well, I have been to each one now, and they are all going to be pretty interesting, but also incredibly heavy on reading and going to tire me out! I do enjoy english, and I love theatre, but there is something about eight thirty classes that kind of make the whole day a turn off. Let's be honest, I want two hours of class in the afternoon a day, wouldn't everyone?
So I am going out tonight, and I intend to come home and get into jammies and sleep. This is not a stretched expectation since that is usually the protocall for a nighttime routine. I hope everyone has a similar night.
Ph, and for the record, my blogs are for me, so if you don't like what I write, don't read it, I don't really care.
that is all,
Jess :]
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
inner city freshness in the underbelly jewels
[two hundred, fifty]
Dear Grandpa,
I miss you. You've been gone for so long, and when I knew you, you were much different than you seem to me now. You were my rock and my stability, and you were completely trusted in my heart. You protected me, and kept me strong, and held my hand and kissed my forehead, and in the event that I could talk to you now I would tell you that I am strong now because of what I know about you. That you fought in the war and protected your family, were an incredible man, and if anything I wish I could've just been with you for longer. I believed in magic because of you, I began my beliefs in the world because of you. When I lost you I had to come to grips with death, and that you were not coming back, but I know that you are beside me during every failure, every surgery, every exam, every task that hurts or is difficult. I know that you believe in me as much as I believe in you, and that you are my inspiration to get up every day and believe in everything that I do. I want you to know that I love you, never gave up on you, never, ever will.
I love you,
love,
your Jake
Dear Grandpa,
I miss you. You've been gone for so long, and when I knew you, you were much different than you seem to me now. You were my rock and my stability, and you were completely trusted in my heart. You protected me, and kept me strong, and held my hand and kissed my forehead, and in the event that I could talk to you now I would tell you that I am strong now because of what I know about you. That you fought in the war and protected your family, were an incredible man, and if anything I wish I could've just been with you for longer. I believed in magic because of you, I began my beliefs in the world because of you. When I lost you I had to come to grips with death, and that you were not coming back, but I know that you are beside me during every failure, every surgery, every exam, every task that hurts or is difficult. I know that you believe in me as much as I believe in you, and that you are my inspiration to get up every day and believe in everything that I do. I want you to know that I love you, never gave up on you, never, ever will.
I love you,
love,
your Jake
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
three squeezes
[two hundred, forty-nine]
I am trying to learn a song by ear agin, and it isn't chamber or choir or anything like that, it is a pop artist song, but it is just so unique and hard to get the hang of. I really love the song and have for a long time, but getting the words and melody uuugh, it is a frustrating process for the time being. I will continue to do it, because I need to, but I wish it was easier!
Things aren't easy anymore. When I was little things seemed so hard and now so fickle, considering doing a summersault used to be a challenge, now I'm struggling to pay internet bills and time manage properly. Priorities definitely change as you grow up as well, I remember when returning my best friend's copy of Pocahontas was the biggest issue in the world, and now if something's a little late to a friend, they don't even batt an eye, I am remarkably accountable, I don't usually forget to give things back.
Except for this one time when I was in about second grade, my best friend had let me borrow an Aqua cd, and I literally held onto it for a year because I loved it so much. She had moved on to better artists such as pink and such, but I loved that Aqua cd, and she will never let me live that one down, but all in good time karma will bite her back, since I have many stories on her as well. Many of these stories, however, will get us both into deep bush, so we continue a pact to not tell anyone.
Secrets are funny things these days. I don't think they're called secrets to me unless it is some sort of present or surpirse, otherwise it is just information that you don't tell everyone. Isn't it unhealthy to keep everything bottled up? I wouldn't know, I may be an open book, but there are things my above best friend is just finding out about today.
Things that I am not at liberty to talk about here, really, if you want to know I'd assume you'd talk to me yourself. I find it hard to tell everything here, and I think that comes from growing up. I love the feeling that I'm getting older, but I'm five months away from turning twenty, and I have this feeling that although I have accomplished so much in my two decades of living, I have so much more to do.
In my twenties, I will be travelling to Europe, having a road trip across Canada, graduating from university, maintaining relationships and building on them, and so much more. I want everything to be just dandy in this decade, and I want to surround myself to good people.
When I was younger I didn't have many close friends, until I got to my senior years in highschool friends came and went, but now I have a solid variety of friends, and I truly believe that if I can keep them happy and safe, I will in turn find peace and safety. I love my friends, I love my family, I love the fact that I get and got to watch my brother and sister grow up, and it is still an exciting time for this.
So if you are a person, a human being, a solid stable intervention of society, then slow down today and just look at everything you've accomplished. Your growth, your education, your relationships with people, your social skills, everything has changed, and will continue to change. We are all so unbelieavably lucky to be alive.
I believe in...people.
Jess :]
I am trying to learn a song by ear agin, and it isn't chamber or choir or anything like that, it is a pop artist song, but it is just so unique and hard to get the hang of. I really love the song and have for a long time, but getting the words and melody uuugh, it is a frustrating process for the time being. I will continue to do it, because I need to, but I wish it was easier!
Things aren't easy anymore. When I was little things seemed so hard and now so fickle, considering doing a summersault used to be a challenge, now I'm struggling to pay internet bills and time manage properly. Priorities definitely change as you grow up as well, I remember when returning my best friend's copy of Pocahontas was the biggest issue in the world, and now if something's a little late to a friend, they don't even batt an eye, I am remarkably accountable, I don't usually forget to give things back.
Except for this one time when I was in about second grade, my best friend had let me borrow an Aqua cd, and I literally held onto it for a year because I loved it so much. She had moved on to better artists such as pink and such, but I loved that Aqua cd, and she will never let me live that one down, but all in good time karma will bite her back, since I have many stories on her as well. Many of these stories, however, will get us both into deep bush, so we continue a pact to not tell anyone.
Secrets are funny things these days. I don't think they're called secrets to me unless it is some sort of present or surpirse, otherwise it is just information that you don't tell everyone. Isn't it unhealthy to keep everything bottled up? I wouldn't know, I may be an open book, but there are things my above best friend is just finding out about today.
Things that I am not at liberty to talk about here, really, if you want to know I'd assume you'd talk to me yourself. I find it hard to tell everything here, and I think that comes from growing up. I love the feeling that I'm getting older, but I'm five months away from turning twenty, and I have this feeling that although I have accomplished so much in my two decades of living, I have so much more to do.
In my twenties, I will be travelling to Europe, having a road trip across Canada, graduating from university, maintaining relationships and building on them, and so much more. I want everything to be just dandy in this decade, and I want to surround myself to good people.
When I was younger I didn't have many close friends, until I got to my senior years in highschool friends came and went, but now I have a solid variety of friends, and I truly believe that if I can keep them happy and safe, I will in turn find peace and safety. I love my friends, I love my family, I love the fact that I get and got to watch my brother and sister grow up, and it is still an exciting time for this.
So if you are a person, a human being, a solid stable intervention of society, then slow down today and just look at everything you've accomplished. Your growth, your education, your relationships with people, your social skills, everything has changed, and will continue to change. We are all so unbelieavably lucky to be alive.
I believe in...people.
Jess :]
Monday, September 5, 2011
and so we begin
[two hundred, forty-eight]
Well now, another school semester is about to begin, since classes start in two days, I am appreciating the time I have to read, and the time I take to do little things loike read for fun and knit and make tea. It is really funny, some people make tea everyday, but I feel like I don't think of it enough to make it everyday. I forget about it and it is a little depressing since tea is so good. But I suppose it isn't a big problem, there are worse things that could happen. I am thankful that I have tea to drink at my leisure, so really I'm not complaining.
It got really cold today, which lots of people are complaining about, but I love the autumn, so I am loving it. I went to the gym and met up with friends from school, and I am just in an incredible mood again. I love these comfortable, settled, happy moods, that I get usually when I feel complete. I am happy about everything, right now, and I am thankful for that happiness. And I am also thankful that I no longer have insomnia, I was afraid it was becoming chronic!
Why am I so sensitive? I don't understand sometimes. My eightth grade teacher told me that because I am an artist of sorts I feel things differently than people. I think I interpreted that wrong, because I now feel like my entire works inside my head is different than everyone around me. I feel things, and then I don't react or do depending on my mood. Right now, I could be bruised easilly, but I'd probably just absorb it, that happens when people hurt you enough...it just kind of sinks in, and you find the strength to get by.
I get by, and you can get by, and we all just get everything by.
love,
Jess :]
Well now, another school semester is about to begin, since classes start in two days, I am appreciating the time I have to read, and the time I take to do little things loike read for fun and knit and make tea. It is really funny, some people make tea everyday, but I feel like I don't think of it enough to make it everyday. I forget about it and it is a little depressing since tea is so good. But I suppose it isn't a big problem, there are worse things that could happen. I am thankful that I have tea to drink at my leisure, so really I'm not complaining.
It got really cold today, which lots of people are complaining about, but I love the autumn, so I am loving it. I went to the gym and met up with friends from school, and I am just in an incredible mood again. I love these comfortable, settled, happy moods, that I get usually when I feel complete. I am happy about everything, right now, and I am thankful for that happiness. And I am also thankful that I no longer have insomnia, I was afraid it was becoming chronic!
Why am I so sensitive? I don't understand sometimes. My eightth grade teacher told me that because I am an artist of sorts I feel things differently than people. I think I interpreted that wrong, because I now feel like my entire works inside my head is different than everyone around me. I feel things, and then I don't react or do depending on my mood. Right now, I could be bruised easilly, but I'd probably just absorb it, that happens when people hurt you enough...it just kind of sinks in, and you find the strength to get by.
I get by, and you can get by, and we all just get everything by.
love,
Jess :]
Sunday, September 4, 2011
journalism, at it's best, EXCEPT NOT
[two hundred, forty seven]
I don't know what to write about today, I feel like there is something I should be doing, but other than working out there isn't anything I can think of. I'm debating going to the local coffee shop and reading for a couple of hours tonight, I think I might and just grab a tea and cuddle into a cosy chair. It's going to look like I'm just listening to music to passers-by, but to be honest I couldn't care any less. If they have a problem with me, they can tell me, since I can't see the dirty looks they're giving me anyway.
I miss the boy.
It feels insane to think that three years from now I will be done my undergraduate, and somehow ready for new things and different things and it just kind of scares me. I feel old, since I am twenty in five months, and I don't think I'm ready for that yet. I'm not ready to be old... Since my brother is ten, I miss being that age and being able to eat gummy worms all day and play video games and watch cartoons before school, but all of that is dead and gone...or I could continue to do it, I'd just be kind of...well, odd.
Not that I am not odd already, because I am odd, crazy odd, but I think I'm a mature odd. That seems like a nice way of telling someone that they're mental, and I think it might be.
Excuse me, you're a hell of a guy, but you're a mature odd.
Nikki Minaj should take lyric writing from me! Like seriously, let's get some professionals in there. Check out Hank Green's latest songs for some interesting and sophisticated pop song writing, it will blow your mind.
Jess :]
I don't know what to write about today, I feel like there is something I should be doing, but other than working out there isn't anything I can think of. I'm debating going to the local coffee shop and reading for a couple of hours tonight, I think I might and just grab a tea and cuddle into a cosy chair. It's going to look like I'm just listening to music to passers-by, but to be honest I couldn't care any less. If they have a problem with me, they can tell me, since I can't see the dirty looks they're giving me anyway.
I miss the boy.
It feels insane to think that three years from now I will be done my undergraduate, and somehow ready for new things and different things and it just kind of scares me. I feel old, since I am twenty in five months, and I don't think I'm ready for that yet. I'm not ready to be old... Since my brother is ten, I miss being that age and being able to eat gummy worms all day and play video games and watch cartoons before school, but all of that is dead and gone...or I could continue to do it, I'd just be kind of...well, odd.
Not that I am not odd already, because I am odd, crazy odd, but I think I'm a mature odd. That seems like a nice way of telling someone that they're mental, and I think it might be.
Excuse me, you're a hell of a guy, but you're a mature odd.
Nikki Minaj should take lyric writing from me! Like seriously, let's get some professionals in there. Check out Hank Green's latest songs for some interesting and sophisticated pop song writing, it will blow your mind.
Jess :]
Saturday, September 3, 2011
how do you do I, see you've met my
faithful, handy man.
[two hundred, forty-six]
Today is move in day for residence on campus, and since I live not too far from the campus I have a large incentive to not leave my house today. Traffic, pedestrians running around streets with fans and suitcases and mini fridges, tables, etc. I went through that last year, and this year it will entail me not welcoming everyone into my building and ultimately being ignored, but by writing and knitting and watching movies and dancing, more positive all around.
I cannot say I'm giong to miss being in residence, I liked the feeling and atmosphere of always having someone around the corner or in the bathroom, but I needed my alone time. A lot of people in res maintained a steady, constant running relationship with everyone that last from one am to one am, all day erryday. I thought this was weird, and continue to do so, and therefore I remain alone in my space, in my own room with my two lovely room mates, but apart all the same.
I would rather have friends that I could call on then be obliged to constantly be with people all of the time. There are few people that I feel could successfully maintain good conversation for a long time, and especially with me, I'm going to say I only know a handful of people who entertain me for that long, or could hold a conversation with my insanity for that long. Usually people get sick of me.
Which is actually okay with me, I like to talk and be around people, but I could go for a whole day not speaking to anyone, sometimes I actually need that just to gather my thoughts. Residence drives people nuts, and I warned some people going this year that they should make sure they have alone time, otherwise they will go batshit psycho, and although it isn't uncommon, it is still a scary thought.
Anyways, just a dip into my psyche of alone-ness. Otherwise I'm doing alright in my life, classes start next week so I've been taking it easy lately, not really investing too much into anything. I have been having an ongoing internal battle with my feelings, and if I need a break or if I am kidding myself and am just trying to block out insecurity. Maybe it is best to just sit tight for a while, figure things out, and try not to burst into tears every time something goes wrong, which is becoming a harder concept to grasp as this whole school year seems to begin.
Anyway, hope your day is as relaxing as mine,
cheers,
Jess :]
[two hundred, forty-six]
Today is move in day for residence on campus, and since I live not too far from the campus I have a large incentive to not leave my house today. Traffic, pedestrians running around streets with fans and suitcases and mini fridges, tables, etc. I went through that last year, and this year it will entail me not welcoming everyone into my building and ultimately being ignored, but by writing and knitting and watching movies and dancing, more positive all around.
I cannot say I'm giong to miss being in residence, I liked the feeling and atmosphere of always having someone around the corner or in the bathroom, but I needed my alone time. A lot of people in res maintained a steady, constant running relationship with everyone that last from one am to one am, all day erryday. I thought this was weird, and continue to do so, and therefore I remain alone in my space, in my own room with my two lovely room mates, but apart all the same.
I would rather have friends that I could call on then be obliged to constantly be with people all of the time. There are few people that I feel could successfully maintain good conversation for a long time, and especially with me, I'm going to say I only know a handful of people who entertain me for that long, or could hold a conversation with my insanity for that long. Usually people get sick of me.
Which is actually okay with me, I like to talk and be around people, but I could go for a whole day not speaking to anyone, sometimes I actually need that just to gather my thoughts. Residence drives people nuts, and I warned some people going this year that they should make sure they have alone time, otherwise they will go batshit psycho, and although it isn't uncommon, it is still a scary thought.
Anyways, just a dip into my psyche of alone-ness. Otherwise I'm doing alright in my life, classes start next week so I've been taking it easy lately, not really investing too much into anything. I have been having an ongoing internal battle with my feelings, and if I need a break or if I am kidding myself and am just trying to block out insecurity. Maybe it is best to just sit tight for a while, figure things out, and try not to burst into tears every time something goes wrong, which is becoming a harder concept to grasp as this whole school year seems to begin.
Anyway, hope your day is as relaxing as mine,
cheers,
Jess :]
does anybody think it's weird if
[two hundred, forty-five]
I hate having a clean desk. I think it reflects my state of being, my mind flow, of being a disassembled mess, and when my desk resembles cleanliness, I feel like I'm not doing enough, and therefore, most of my projects, books, scissorsmarkersdvdscords are sprawled everywhere on most of the desks that I have. For the record, I have two. The one at school is a tad messier at the moment due to its occupant, which is me.
Coincidentally at the moment my desk is sort of half and half. I have a nice clean area at the front, but around the sides and the back it breaks down into an organised mess. This is the way my mind works, and this is what is normal for me. I like having things where I know where they are, also known as, don't move my things, please and thanks.
I keep most things that I'd ever need at my desk in arm's length including notepads, markers, dvd's, and a ball of yarn with knitting needles in it. People usually keep their desks tidy for a workspace, but my workspace is on the computer, so my desktop is tidy, but folders and notes are properly organised and labelled, and I do that purposely. I organise the life that is structured, the rest sort of falls into places and pieces when it wants to.
So if your desk is tidy,k or messy, or if you don't have a desk, look at the resemblance of personality and mindspace in relation to the way you organise your physical life. Such as your bed do you make it? Your clothes do you fold them/hang them up? All of these things resemble your inner person, and that's enough hippie dippie bs for now.
Take care,
Jess :]
I hate having a clean desk. I think it reflects my state of being, my mind flow, of being a disassembled mess, and when my desk resembles cleanliness, I feel like I'm not doing enough, and therefore, most of my projects, books, scissorsmarkersdvdscords are sprawled everywhere on most of the desks that I have. For the record, I have two. The one at school is a tad messier at the moment due to its occupant, which is me.
Coincidentally at the moment my desk is sort of half and half. I have a nice clean area at the front, but around the sides and the back it breaks down into an organised mess. This is the way my mind works, and this is what is normal for me. I like having things where I know where they are, also known as, don't move my things, please and thanks.
I keep most things that I'd ever need at my desk in arm's length including notepads, markers, dvd's, and a ball of yarn with knitting needles in it. People usually keep their desks tidy for a workspace, but my workspace is on the computer, so my desktop is tidy, but folders and notes are properly organised and labelled, and I do that purposely. I organise the life that is structured, the rest sort of falls into places and pieces when it wants to.
So if your desk is tidy,k or messy, or if you don't have a desk, look at the resemblance of personality and mindspace in relation to the way you organise your physical life. Such as your bed do you make it? Your clothes do you fold them/hang them up? All of these things resemble your inner person, and that's enough hippie dippie bs for now.
Take care,
Jess :]
Friday, September 2, 2011
whatever
[two hundred, forty-four]
this is one out of two, I should write another today, but I'll probably do it tomorrow.
Today is an unhappy day. For some reason I just can't seem to justify a smile, and that is unusual for me, because I do not usually not smile. However, there was a moment today that I realised someone selectively told me information so that my feelings wouldn't be hurt, but in short, it did, because I know that although it wasn't necessarilly a lie, it wasn't the truth either.
I miss being okay.
I think with the stress of school, and the stress of being alone, and the stress of being happy, is just coming down at once and I'm tredding water and can't seem to stay balanced. I can't do anything right, I can't plant my positivity seeds in this house, it just isn't doing it for me.
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, be happy, but you're allowed those days where you don't want to be alive anymore. I'm not saying I want to die, but I'd like to take a break from being a person like me for a while, or being a person at all. Could tomorrow be my day to be a ladybug? That'd be interesting, see what they worry about, so nobody can shit on me, for atleast a little while.
Thanks for taking me for granted, world, when all I ever did was be there.
cool.
Jess
this is one out of two, I should write another today, but I'll probably do it tomorrow.
Today is an unhappy day. For some reason I just can't seem to justify a smile, and that is unusual for me, because I do not usually not smile. However, there was a moment today that I realised someone selectively told me information so that my feelings wouldn't be hurt, but in short, it did, because I know that although it wasn't necessarilly a lie, it wasn't the truth either.
I miss being okay.
I think with the stress of school, and the stress of being alone, and the stress of being happy, is just coming down at once and I'm tredding water and can't seem to stay balanced. I can't do anything right, I can't plant my positivity seeds in this house, it just isn't doing it for me.
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, be happy, but you're allowed those days where you don't want to be alive anymore. I'm not saying I want to die, but I'd like to take a break from being a person like me for a while, or being a person at all. Could tomorrow be my day to be a ladybug? That'd be interesting, see what they worry about, so nobody can shit on me, for atleast a little while.
Thanks for taking me for granted, world, when all I ever did was be there.
cool.
Jess
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