Monday, December 19, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Thursday, December 1, 2011
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 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
Monday, November 28, 2011
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
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
Friday, November 18, 2011
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:
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
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
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