Maybe I Should Just Start Posting Pictures, Forget the Words

In a Nutshell:

I Don't Care if It Hurts

Today was a good day.

I slept in later than usual because I didn't have to be at the radio station until around 10am. I use "around" loosely because I was up until 2am baking mini apple pies (and yes, they were as delicious as that sounds - and all homemade!). It was my first big baking adventure mostly since I really just wanted to impress my coworkers and boss (and succeeded). It was fun too. Got the ingredients. Watched Doctor Who while they cooked and joked around with the Bestie too of course. All around a good night.

Now, back to today.

Because of all the time I felt I had since I didn't give a fuck if I didn't show up at the station until maybe 11am, I dressed up. Favorite casual-ish dress, black tights, nice black flats, hair down, make-up on - the whole she-bang.

Perfected my playlist. Rode the bus listening to Nada Surf after years of forgetting about them. Which meant stepping away from all the depressing shit I have been listening to (i.e. Fever Ray, Philip Glass).

Got the news I was going to appear in the campus paper. Someone comes by the office and snaps some photos. Supremely happy that such an occasion occurred the same day I decided to dress up.

At other work, everyone loves the mini apple pies. I do a lot of good, productive work instead of sitting around, anxious that someone will catch me looking at page after page of tumblr.

Come home and...well, now I'm just pissed. Sad. Tired. Oh so fucking tired. And kind of just...unmotivated. I was having this stream of eating less calories, getting some healthy food into my system, working out and it takes one curious thought to make it all stop.

Remember that person I said I knew went to prison? It's all over the news now. It's stopped for now but people are posting things on his Facebook. Commenting on all the online articles.

I want to scream. Punch something. Sob.

I'm afraid I'm doing that last one right now.

Suddenly working out isn't so important. Writing that WritePlacer Essay isn't at the top of my list. I just want to go visit him and curse him out. Make sure he understands that he's ruined everything. Not just his life but my family's, victims and you know what? My life.

My make-up's messing up.

I'm listening to "Creep" over and over.

It shouldn't matter, readers. I shouldn't be wasting my time on him. I shouldn't let him get to me. I shouldn't let him ruin my life.

I guess I'm just a masochist.

XOXO
Jacks

I Have the Tendency of Getting Very Physical

As in, "I-love-exercise!" physical.

But you knew that already.

Okay, so here's the thing for this blog entry: I'm going to sort out all my goals so that when I come on here and re-read my entries because I'm just that egotistical, I will find this one and say, "Oh dear me, I never did accomplish any of these things" or laugh condescendingly and pat myself on the back because I most likely have done at least one since.

Alright, here goes nothing.

1. Get fit. And by fit, I mean in all ways. Physical, mental...whatever other area you can become fit in. I just want to be healthy. Feel good. Look good by my own standards. All sorts of things. Also, I'd like to be fit enough so I can jump over a fence. Why this is important, I'm not sure yet but you never know when you might need an advantage over the police. Or, you know, crazy people who are trying to attack you.

2. Fix up my novel. Or turn it into a screenplay. Either way, accomplish more in all writing endeavors so that I can actually say I'm published. Or at least write something every day. Every other day. Whatever.

3. Fix up my wardrobe. This may take months or even years. Also depends on how I get with the whole "fit" thing.

4. In the short term, Christmas shop. I'm terrible with presents so it'd be nice to take some time out and I don't know, actually give people presents besides mix CDs. Unless they like them. In which case, they'll be getting mix CDs galore as well as brownies.

5. Get a fucking license already.

6. Learn how to DJ. Enough said.

7. Figure out what the hell I want to do in life.

8. Get more experience in various fields with the help of books/classes/jobs and the like.

9. Be more adventurous/caring/social/helpful/fjldsjflkjsljfd - lots of things. Suddenly this is turning into a New Years' Resolutions list. Ah well.

Well, that's about it so far. I'll probably add more later.

In the meantime, so this entry won't be completely useless, here's a picture of James Dean:



Can he be my other goal?

XOXO
Jacks

Life's Like an Hourglass, Glued to the Table

The title of this blog is a bit more obvious than the others but basically, almost every one of these blogs has been titled after a song lyric.

Super creative, I know.

Now, I wanted to discuss a problem I'm having at the moment. It's a bit like writer's block but not at the same time. I just have all of these ideas locked in my head, waiting to be set free but I can't even begin to start. I can feel it though. The words are whispers in my ears, the thrill tickles my fingers and my whole body hums with anticipation for the release. The inevitable release of characters, plot, detail. I want to write it all. I want to say so much in a span of just over 400 pages or so. I want to take you farther than you can ever imagine. Sob in agony. Laugh in jubilation.

For some time, I've known that's what I was meant to do. That the secret to my joy for the rest of my life could be summed up in just two images:



and



Seriously. Nothing grants more pleasure than the sight of either of those two things for me.

In fact, I actually started to cry after watching this week's Criminal Minds at my other job because of this quote:

Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain. -Joseph Campbell

This also happens to be the man who also famously said, "Follow your bliss." Both of these wrench my heart like nothing I've heard in a while and I cannot begin to explain why besides the obvious: I've been neglecting everything I love to do. Well, sort of anyway. Been watching a lot of movies so...there's that.

And no matter how much joy I have upon seeing those above images, my head is loaded with so many thoughts, it looks like a busy city street. I can't focus in class, at work, at home. Someone may have to cart me off to the loony bin if this keeps persisting.

I'm hoping Thanksgiving will help. I've had loads of time on my hands, really, so that's not really it. Not sure what is actually preventing me from writing out exactly what I'm thinking. Especially when I've got all these jumbled emotions, making it hard for me to take a full breath. Usually, writing is the only solution. Lately, the solution (though not a very good one, admittedly) is:



Yep. Another new obsession. No surprises there.

I just hope that eventually, I can put a lid to all the distractions and write them out instead. Clearly, I'm not in touch with how I'm feeling. At all. I've got the same emotional scope as, say, a deer. One moment I'm dawdling about the forest and then - boom, there's a car's headlights and expectant looks.

Funny, I just had a talk about expectations and that I'm the girl you should never expect anything from.

Hmm.

And now I've completely strayed away from the original thought I was having so...

XOXO
Jacks

I'll Be the One Who'll Break My Heart

Seeing crushes after months of not seeing them is just about the worst feeling in the world.

Now, if said crush, let's call him Jim (he's the identical Italian twin of Jim Halpert from The Office), had just gone on in life not knowing who I was and I eventually got over my infatuation, it certainly wouldn't have been as bad. Not as painful.

But Jim knows me. We didn't talk much, weren't much of friends though we could've been and I fucked it up. Well, I won't let him go totally blameless - he fucked up things too.

The not knowing hurts the worst. We didn't have an awkward moment where I confessed my feelings and he denied them. No, no. What happened was that I fell for him, invited him to a number of events (three of which were at my apartment) and "drunk" texted him and...he awkwardly avoided me.

Our romance could have been beautiful. Amazing. Maybe not long, maybe just friends - whatever. But something could've happened.

Until I fucked it up.

Now, I'm not one to hold many regrets but this is one of those that just hurts because at that point in my life, everything was messy and I further messed it up. That's right, me. I broke my own heart because I didn't just like this Jim. I was almost in love with him and I didn't do things the right way. I got carried away. Thus, I blame myself for being so stupid. Jim might be thinking that I'm just weird because I was obsessive not because I liked him. And that, in and of itself was where I really fucked up.

Anyway.

I saw him today. Couple of days back too. But today, we crossed paths. We made eye contact. I pretended that maybe it didn't happen and as we came closer he smiled, waved. I said "hey" and not too enthusiastically and with a fake smile to return his equally fake one. And in a uplifted tone he responded with, "hey".

Dramatic, I know.

It really doesn't matter. It meant nothing - especially to him.

But my heart, it races. I forgot how to breathe as he walked past me. I started tearing up. Felt my heart exploding. It was like a heart attack.

I don't know how to explain it. Especially since the entire time I kept reminding myself that he was a loser and didn't realize what he was missing out on but...

God. Crushes.

XOXO
Jacks

Threw You for a Loop

The easiest thing someone can do is lie to themselves. The lies start out small and slowly escalate until that someone has convinced themselves that that lie is true. They've altered what's real and soon, their altered minds cannot be swayed especially with the damage its undergone as more and more lies filter through.

I know what's right. I know that everyone around me is right. Why would someone who genuinely cares about me lie to me when the person is doing the most lying is me - the person who doesn't give a shit even when its me that needs the caring.

I don't want to be cared for. I don't want to succumb to the weakness, to the sob stories and the release of everything I've been holding back. Maybe its because I'm afraid. I'm one minute off from the bomb exploding.

I wish I cared. I wish I could see the pain and the hurt on some of their faces and ease their minds. Tell them that I'll be okay. I mean, I'm confident that eventually, I will be but I don't want them to worry. I want to worry about them. They are far more important. They've got amazing times ahead and things to see and do. I'm sure I've got the same but what have I done in the past when faced with amazing times, amazing people? I brush it under the rug and wait for something better.

And I hate that. There's no possible excuse for my behavior and my utter lack of caring.

I feel as though I'm falling apart. That everything is coming to a head and all I can do is balk up and feign that it matters. I know it does, of course, but I can't seem to reach that point just yet. All I can do right now is look at my very being being sliced apart by dull knives or the little puzzle pieces that make up Jacks coming apart and making a mess on the kitchen table.

I can't stop. I can't stop lying to myself that it will all go away. If I hole myself up or keep pushing it further back or fleeing to some other country - it will just go away.

And that, my dear readers, is the weak, selfish and stupid side of me talking because what sort of strong person runs away like that? What sort of strong person is so incredibly selfish? That's the part that's eating away at me - not so much the fact that I'm now also weak and stupid. What sort of strong person admits to any of it anyway?

None. Which means I'm nothing but weak anyway.
What a pickle I'm in.

XOXO
Jacks

I'm a Detached Breathing Appartus

This week is going to be a big week. And by "big", I mean emotionally so. Well, it should be at least.

The awareness is there. I know what this week means, specifically the date October 19th and I want to acknowledge it. No, I will acknowledge it; of course I will. But every time I've thought about it thus far, I feel miles away. Exactly like what the title of this entry says. I found it in a Sherlock fanfiction (which hurts me to admit so) called "The Paradox Sutie" (by wordstrings. She does deserve credit).

I'm currently a paradox. I used to think I was one of the most emotional people I knew. I cried during sappy films, sobbed over fanfiction that didn't really mean anything, weeped over two close friends' passing and cry whenever something upsets me to the very core which has mostly been the way people affect me.

Because that's what people do - they simply affect me.

I don't want them to. For a long time, I thought I was the strong one in the family. I didn't need a Bandaid for a papercut, I didn't need to go to the hospital for stomach pains, I didn't even need a kiss from Mom when I scraped my knees once again.

In the end, none of it mattered. I could get through it all when my sister couldn't or when one of my brothers complained too much. But then, I realized that I was still a baby. I was still weak because I let people into my life who would drive me nuts and make me cry and whine and for God's sake, why can't I just let them stop making me feel so terrible?

Sure, I let people walk over me. I've gotten better about it thanks to a certain Bestie. And really, people will go on affecting your life until you die.

But, that's the problem. I realized that right now, the one desire I've clung to the past few months and perhaps the past few years has always been the need to be alone because its really starting to weigh me down. Maybe that's why I'm no longer as emotive. It bothered me that I couldn't cry at the end of Boys Don't Cry, people. Seriously.

I guess that's why I'm feeling so hollow right now too. Going through the motions. Cold and fake as I think about the significance of this Wednesday. I don't blame her and I certainly don't blame God (no, not anymore). Usually, the blame would go to me. Everything is usually my fault so how was any of this any different?

And that's exactly why this time around is a little bit off. I forgave myself in bits and pieces over the past couple of months. I'm still not completely there. Because if I was completely and totally over it, I wouldn't be sitting at work, wondering what in the hell I'm going to do this dreaded Wednesday and worrying whether or not this little facade I've managed to build up will fall away.

She deserves that at least and because she affected me so, I shouldn't be worried that I won't let her down.

Sorry for the angst, dear reader. Don't worry about me like I'll try not to worry about you.

XOXO
Jacks

Who Knew?

I've been depressed lately. I hate using the word since never in my life have I actually been depressed (or aware of it, at least) and this time's no different. I also hate using it as an excuse because, well, my sister does. A lot. Which, okay, yes, depression hurts. It's a terrible mental disorder that affects more people than we'd like to hope aren't and where do I get off in downplaying something that's somewhat untreatable and just awful?

I don't so I'm not going to. I'm just saying how I feel about it because I hate it with a mighty vengeance and I also hate admitting that I was upset in the first place.

ANYWAY.

I've been sad lately and I know exactly why but...things are starting to look up. There's still the rift between me and family and things don't always work out like they should (when will they ever) and generally, a lot of things are rather shitty but its not like I think about how upset I am all the time.

Thus, I discovered how happy I really am doing my job at the radio station. Its a pain in the ass and I feel extremely guilty for not doing this sooner but I was upset and when I'm upset I want to punch babies and crawl into a hole and die - not do my fucking job, sorry. Usually I fight all the anger down and just do it but lately, this hasn't been option.

Until today.

Today, I was determined. I made myself login to my work e-mail account and really go through all the e-mails from various bands. I made myself download all the music, burn all the CDs, and even send a couple of e-mails that basically said, "It's not you, it's me". And then a fellow employee waltzes in asking about submitting a new show and asking if I could help while I'm rocking out to this fantastic band (RoomFour) and...

Well, to be honest, I'm tearing up.

Who knew that all along, if I had just bucked up and actually, I don't know, did what I love so much and feel so passionate about, fuck all the shit that makes me upset and let me LIVE and work and support these local bands who deserve all the fans in the world that I'd almost automatically feel better?

Sigh.

And, no matter if you care or not dear reader, I feel better letting this all out.

I've been upset, sad, depressed for far too long. It's time to crawl out of the hole, go to a concert and LOVE.

XOXO
Jacks

P.S. Just for shits and giggles:

I'm Giving You a Nightcall to Tell You How I Feel

Do you ever wonder if attractive people, specifically actors and actresses, one day as a child dreamt of having scores of people obsessed with them? Today, do they think, wow, why the hell are people so aroused by me and do drastic things just to touch my shoulder?

Or do they simply toddle about, glad that at least a heavyset man in his late forties has a deep desire to check for any new twitter posts from you EVERY NIGHT.

I would just like to think that some of those stars know how hard it is to be dedicated to someone they'll probably never meet and have created so much for various fandoms because they just enjoy their character or appearance that much.

If not, I'd like to remain naive in believing that one day I'll meet one of my obsessions and they'll think its endearingly adorable that I'm obsessed with them.

Though I wouldn't blame them if they were exponentially creeped out every time they read anything I've written. Anywhere.

God, I'm embarrassing.

I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked...Sometimes

I happen to have a high regard for sex. In fact, ever since I was a kid, I knew how important it was because, not only of how I was brought up, but some things that have happened to others in lieu of sexual acts and that they really do alter a lot. Sometimes. Maybe, because of this and all of the importance I thrust upon the mere thought of it, I haven't changed my ways since being just a child and therefore have no inkling in engaging in it unless I'm in love.

Which is...unsettling.

(as a side note, sorry for the lengthy sentences and big words here and there. Just watched Atonement and now I'm on to To the Ends of the Earth - both British-made films/mini-series)

Not only is my fascination with the act naive but its not like I've got no sexual drive whatsoever. But, that's the thing. I thought I did. I mean, I'm attracted to all sorts of men. I've been obsessed with men basically since I was 4 and got fake-married to this boy who lived in my apartment complex named J.C. in the laundromat. Everything about them is attractive: their appearance, the way they move, the way they speak, the way they think and live and...

I could go on for days.

Even so, it wasn't until recently, I really sat down (more like lounged. I was on a coach after all. Or my bed. Both?) that I realized how not-so-sexual I am. I make sex jokes. I want to have sex. In past entries, it was clear that I was crazed about it. But then something changed and all of a sudden, after reading ahem some very "adult" fan fiction, I realized that there hasn't been a single "real" person that I can imagine spending an entire day in bed with devoted to having sex, talking and messing around. Possibly sleeping thrown in (what does one do when they spend entire days in bed together, anyway?)

And by "real" I mean guys I actually know, guys I've met, guys I've even dated or had crushed on. No, none of them. Maybe actors. Exclusively now its Benedict Cumberbatch. At first, it was the whole Sherlock Holmes thing. Utterly sexy. Then it evolved to something I can't even...

Let's change the subject.

I was going to post a Jacks timeline of Actors-I've-Been-Obsessed-With-Over-the-Years but I want to make it pretty and maybe even funny so it might take a while.

Either way, how sad is it that I've only dreamed of having sex with maybe 5 guys, all of which have been actors? Men I've never met before in my life.

Sure, there was Sex Guy from my Culture class second semester of freshman year but...that's about it. Plus, I don't think I can spend a day in bed with Sex Guy - unless he didn't talk. Then I could.

(poor Sex Guy)

Anyway, its nothing to be sad over or mull about because I know eventually I'll fall in love. It was just sort of a shock to realize how much sex affects my life.

Heck, it may be the answer to why I'm so crazy.

XOXO
Jacks

Is It Any Wonder?

I was planning on posting a rundown of my weekend but it's worthy of some hot topics that I feel I should get out so I'll have to save it for later when I have time to type it all out. For now, on an unrelated topic, I'm in the dumps. The shithouse. I thought I was doing okay but it's like every time I get on the phone with one of my relatives, it all comes slamming back ilke a soccer ball to the face. I lay there, dazed for hours until someone helps me up and tells me, "Jacks, the game's still going."

Time keeps moving even when there's not enough time. Too much time. The right time to do x, the wrong time to do y.

I'm getting close to a monumental age. The big 2-1. I'm excited not because of the whole alcohol thing (I mean, partially that, of course) but also because that's just one step further toward adulthood. No matter where you are mentally, when people look at you, do you hold yourself, do you appear to be a certain age?

I don't think so. In a lot of ways I look like a young adult as I am. Could possibly still pass for high school age. Either way, does anyone take me seriously? Sometimes, I don't care. In fact, the thesis of today's entire entry is exactly that. I no longer care.

I don't care about what I wear, don't care about the fact that I have to wear glasses for a few days because my contacts were annihilated, don't care that I'm not getting a boyfriend/lover/fuckbuddy as quickly as I used to want to, don't care that I have a huge test coming up or a huge essay that needs writing. I hardly care if I just insulted the guy sitting next to me in Film Analysis. In fact, I don't care so much that I can no longer be embarrassed by much of anything besides a professor I know hearing me poop in the other stall and right now, I'm not sure how much I'd really care about if I thought about it.

The only things I do care about is saving enough money, getting a license, finding an internship, finding a fucking career for that matter.

All I care about is...

how soon can I get out of here?

XOXO
Jacks

Questions, I've Got Some Questions

1) What do they call days that are basically filled of sorrow and remembrance of a loved one "passing away"? It's not an anniversary (weird) and "memorial" is just too...too. So, what then? Day of Remembrance? How about, The-day-my-friend-got-shot-in-Iraq-because-of-some-stupid-fuck?

Either way, RIP just doesn't cover it. The entirety of fall just sucks. Great weather, great colors and great food, holidays, blah blah but...the rest of it? I don't think a time machine would even cover it. Or, hell, that device they used in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Then again, I don't want to forget either of them.

2) Why is it that as soon as someone majorly fucks up either in your family or in a tight-knit group of friends, it's nearly impossible to recover that person for the outsider who, you know, forgave them and all? My prime example will be known as Orlando Bloom simply because he looked like him (except not really). I can't find the guy anywhere and I do mean anywhere and everywhere. I like to think my stalking skills are pretty high but alas, it seems as though this one's a bit elusive. Which is especially upsetting when all I want to do is make fun of him.

Valid reason, right?

3) Why do people invent food like Doritos and then expect you to eat them without getting any cheese dust ALL OVER YOUR FUCKING CLOTHES.

I don't understand.

All of these are, of course, up for debate.

(Because I have so many readers.)

XOXO
Jacks

I Had Given This a Dirty Title But Now Everyone's Finding My Blog Through It

The title of this entry goes to the famous Mozart for one of the best examples of extreme pervertedness that everyone knows about. In most instances, I'm highly aware that basically everyone in existence is a pervert. The guy down the street may like to make things kinky with food while the girl who sits next to me in Film History Pre-1945 might like it rough in bed. Either way, these two characteristics of these fetishes are rather normal and are just that: fetishes. Nothing too perverted unless you're a monk. Or a nun. Nah, who's kidding - they're perverted too.

In fact, this makes me wonder whether or not Jesus was into anything. Perfume-massaged-onto-the-feet-with-long-dirty-hair-of-a-whore just doesn't seem enough. Definitely going to hell for that comment.

My point is - clearly, if Mozart, being the genius he is, and I don't know, like every other genius that's famously taken part in the world's affairs and/or art - has a thing for poop and just being generally perverted then hunky-dory. I'm not kidding; check out this article:

http://www.cracked.com/article_18559_6-famous-geniuses-you-didnt-know-were-perverts.html

I told Bestie I would write about poop fetishes so here we go. My take on the fact that if you want anything to do with intellectual merits, you got to at least look at pictures of poop. And as everyone knows (except maybe you, dear reader) apparently, I have said poop fetish.

(Not really but it make me feel like a genius. Besides, according to the men in my life, it's weird that a girl doesn't mind tossing the words "poop" and "fart" around not mention telling everyone in the vicinity when pooping will commence like I do. Don't completely understand why this is such a big deal. Has no one read the book Everybody Poops? Geez.)

In any case, this kind of carries into what's going on in my life at the moment. I can't really talk much about it since its still "up in the air" but basically, someone I know is now in jail.

I've never really known anyone who's gone to jail.

Maybe like overnight for a warrant from not paying a ticket or because they were in possession of weed or something but nothing serious before.

And, seriously, I have to stop there but I'm kind of on auto drive as of late. I've been feeling happy/grateful but at the same time, just going through the motions. Introverted. Chill. Some moodswings now and then. More often than not, you can find me in deep thought in class, at coffee shops (okay, just once did I do that recently) or in my closet of an office at the radio station.

Yep, I believe I'm becoming a genius. Geniuses do that all the time, right? Besides fantasizing about their poop fetish and getting lost somewhere in the deep recesses of their mind, they must also write blogs about how shit's going down and life is nothing more than a dream within a dream...within a dream.

Plus, my fervent love for all things Sherlock Holmes at the moment has a distinct eau de genius about it, wouldn't you say?

Alright, enough of my egotistical bullshit - let's talk about Friday night. The night I had a sort of date with the guy I currently have a crush on. Let's give him the name Man-Jacks because he's basically me only in man form.

We went to a concert Friday night in a pretty sweet venue that's the basement of a pizza place. The bands were mostly funk and reggae and because of my swanky new radio job, I got a free CD and sticker from the band and felt cool being recognized by all the members (even though I'd partied with them freshman year of college but...its been awhile, okay!) Man-Jacks & I were hitting it off well and were having a great time but the part that I left out was the fact that the ex (Terry) happened to be there as well.

It was like having my brother come on a date with me.

I mean, he was fun and in good spirits which was good since I was thinking he'd be trying to steal me away every 5 seconds or tell Man-Jacks to fuck off but no, no, nothing like that. He ended up cockblocking me but I didn't really want to have sex or anything. I kind of just wanted to get to know Man-Jacks some more. Maybe we would've gotten coffee somewhere. The part that sucks most is that we didn't party afterward either, not even all together which would've been a great situation because it would've made more sense to ditch that scene than in a parking lot at midnight. Even worse, Terry called the whole thing and then, lying in my bed an hour later, made sure I knew he was hoping I wasn't expecting sex from him.

Yeah, cool, thanks for checking.

NOT.

Although I thought about it and now I'm sad he'll be away and there may not be someone for me to actually have sex with anytime soon, I'm not completely sure he's learned anything since last we tried.

Emphasis on the word "tried".

I actually went through with the whole thing and ended up having a pretty good experience except that we actually didn't really do anything. Just as well since I'm still not back on birth control.

Either way, slightly disappointing turn of events and now, after trying to chat with Man-Jacks in text last night, I'm sort of worried that he has a different opinion of me and is possibly turned off because of my douchebaggery the other night.

Ah well. I am the best at fucking up any good relationship that comes my way.

In fact, it's a bit of a science.

XOXO
Jacks

I'm So Tired, I Don't Know What to Do...

"I'm so tired my mind is set on you
I wonder should I call you but I know what you would do

You'd say I'm putting you on
But it's no joke, it's doing me harm
You know I can't sleep, I can't stop my brain
You know it's three weeks, I'm going insane
You know I'd give you everything I've got
for a little peace of mind

I'm so tired, I'm feeling so upset
Although I'm so tired I'll have another cigarette"

A lot of lyrics there but take it. Let it sink in. Exhale.

This is exactly how I've been feeling lately. I'm physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually exhausted - and I can't put my finger on why exactly. There's certainly issues; equations I can't solve and questions that are often left unanswered. But I'm also positive that I don't really care and this, in turn, confuses me. Shouldn't I care? I'm supposed to be an adult now. I can't just be dilly-dallying around, or as Sherlock would say, ""Oh hell, what does it matter?! So we go round the sun - if we went round the moon or... round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make any difference." Quite so, Sherlock quite so.

Did you know how hard it is to type and eat an ice cream drumstick? I keep getting distracted mostly because now I want to finish the deliciousness before finishing this entry. No hard feelings?

In any case, things have happened - many things. I should be happy. New job, new prospects, new apartment, etc. etc. However, I'm mostly focused on any of the below things:

1. Sherlock. The 2010 BBC version, not Basil Rathbone or Jeremy Brett. Psh, Benedict Cumberbatch is definitely the shit. Which is also the subject of not only my fantasies but my computer's background. Slightly embarrassing but as Bestie can testify, I literally have stages. Which brings me to...

2. Mad Men. See, not only do I have actor obsession stages but I also have spouts of TV stages. Whatever, it's quite interesting. And addicting.

3. And...reading Sherlock Holmes?

There's not much on above list. I wish I cared more about class. Cared more about the show I host and produce for the radio station on campus (check it out at kntu.com or FM 88.1 KNTU if you're around Texas. Saturday nights 7-9) and you know, work. The new job doesn't entail much but I for sure can't look like an idiot or slack off by watching Criminal Minds. No, no. It's much different.

I don't know what it is besides blaming everything on exhaustion. Which just makes me sound sort of pathetic. Everytiime someone asks me how my summer's been, I always answer, "Crappy." Who wants to hear that? No one. Not that they're really listening, right?

I'm grateful for everything I have...I just need a pick-me-up or maybe a catnap. For now, cracked.com helps.

XOXO
Jacks

This should be well-known but...

I have a thing for film trailers. Not just any trailers, mind you, but the really exceptional ones. Currently, I'm obsessed with two that I thought hey, maybe my readers would like to watch too. Discuss below if desired.



It helps that it was a beautiful, brilliant film that I could definitely watch over and over without getting tired of it. Sigh. Plus, Beethoven's 7th Symphony is also my favorite of all of his symphonies. Just remarkable.

Anyway, my second favorite is for a film I have yet to have seen - only because it hasn't come out yet. I'm sure you'll recognize this.



Just...FUCK. I had some pretty bad assumptions about the American re-vamped version specifically because the original was just released what, 2 years ago? I saw it and loved it and was expressly hoping America wouldn't leech off of yet another foreign film but, shocker, they did. And it looks hella fantastic. Damn you, America.

XOXO
Jacks

Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane, ain't got time to take a fast train...

That's right, just quoted "The Letter" by the Boxtops. I hope you're judging me.

So. It's been oh a year or so. A shit ton has changed and mind you, I never use shit ton unless it really was a shit ton. Lemme give you the down-low:

1) Got over much of my guy curse. I still find plenty of men attractive but finally, a couple of spouted interest and a couple have totally rejected me without realizing it. This is just fine and dandy however because I learned from my mistakes, blah blah, and one day I know I'll marry the perfect guy for moi and be super fucking happy. Don't worry, I haven't fell off into the deep end just yet. Maybe I should. Maybe then I could learn more about myself. Which leads me to number...

2) I learned that I'm good at things. I can be the head receptionist/secretary person for a two year old department at a university. I can write and produce a radio show centered on local music and thusly, find such local music and keep in contact with the bands. This skill has made me the happiest in the girl. You know how I've talked about record producing and that my soul resembles an iPod but folks, this is so much richer. I feel like I've found my purpose (even though currently I'm sort of dreading working on the show for this week cuz I'm so damned tired). It's just crazy that I happened upon this job and that I'm loving it so much. Some guy recognized me. This other guy added me on facebook simply because I'm the host of the show. I don't know. It's just nuts. I also learned that hey, I can write pretty damn well. Sing alright. And am quite friendly/funny enough to get along with complete strangers who would then love to hang out with me.

Sigh. It's strange discovering all of these things at once.

3) I've also learned things about others: I'm not alone because a guy who happens to be in love with me is going through what I just went through (figuring out that sometimes its okay to be selfish). He's super-sensitive and it'll take time but lately, I've become so intuitive and good with advice that I've learned that sometimes, people will listen to anything you say but mostly, what makes sense. That people will give into temptation, suffer the repercussions and pick themselves back up *snap* like that. People are way stronger than they think (which includes me).

4) Also, I've learned how much I love the people in my life. My family...still working on the love for them but my dad bought me a fucking turntable for no reason other than he sees him in me and loves me. My mom is starting to feel like a really close friend than just a mother. My sister feels more or less like a mom than when we were kids but I can now safely defend her and fight for her. My nephews/niece...nuts and truly need some loving but I've realized right now, I'm not the girl for the job. Much less frustrating than praying to God to give me strength to help take care of them. I haven't given up, necessarily. Just given the reigns to my sister who's also stronger than she thinks.

My friends...man I've learned a lot about my friends. Some of them used me. I used some of them. I finally learned to just say 'no' and i don't mean to sex. One in particular I said 'yes' too HOWEVER I'm still sort of on the fence. (Is it weird that I want my first time to be with my first love who now refuses to talk to me for whatever stupid reason? And who I also broke up with because he pressured me into sex? Yeah, so much logic).

More importantly, I've discovered who my best friends are. One especially has been there along with me for what? Six years now? And we're still has goober-y as always. However, we've now matured so much that stepping back, I'm so glad I grew up with her on my side. We depend on each other a lot. At one time, I thought it was too much and at some point we both realized it and stepped back a little. But, now, it's like everything's just gravy no matter how thick the jungle is. And I love her for everything we've been through.

Okay, I'll stop with the sap.

The others have disappointed me in a lot of ways but a couple continue to surprise me. For example, Sensitive Guy has helped me to realize a lot of things but now I'm starting to think I'm using him and surprisingly, I care. Also surprisingly, I've realized when I'm starting to use people (most guys who just happen to like me. So, so wrong).

Older friends have gone on to (let's just say) otherthings which is just dandy except I'm still trying to hold on though my grip is slipping. It helped to go to the past but now, I want to run far, far away from it. Last time this strategy was terrible and very cowardly but now...now I kind of want to put it on the wayside. For a long while.

God, I hate the past.

5) Now, continuing with the lessons learned, I also learned that I really want to ride a motorcycle. I want to learn krav maga and become a beast of an athlete trained both in body and in mind. I want to go to France more than I want to go to New York. And I don't really want a boyfriend right now.

Just sex.

Lots of sex.

That's right, children, your ol' Jacks is hornier than a cat in heat. I didn't realize just how big of a horndog I am. In fact, above mentioned best friend has suggested I should buy a vibrator and I'm really starting to consider using some of my next paycheck for such a purchase (aka it'll be a nice one). Finding privacy will prove to be difficult because my roommates have a penchant of hanging out at the apartment for far too long but I'll find a way. Plus there's that other guy who I've discovered likes me. I don't know how serious he wants to get, though. Ugh. I don't want to have the talk with him if you know what I mean. Plus there's ex who probably hasn't had sex yet either.

Hmm. How would that discussion go, you ask?

Me: Hey Terry! Remember when I broke up with you because you were pressuring me to have a sex with you? Well, I realized that I also wasn't sexually attracted to you so, sorry you were holding out for me for so long. Anddddd surprise! Let's do it now instead of waiting even longer. The past should just be forgotten. *big cheesy grin*

Terry: *blank expression* You're serious?

Me: Always.

Terry: Uhhh...I gotta go listen to country music and learn how to be a cowboy.

Yeah, see, it wouldn't turn out well AT ALL.

Vibrator, here I come.

XOXO
Jacks