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[28 Jan 2016|12:28pm]
Who's here?

Tomorrow night I am going to an event where people read old entries from their LiveJournals to a bar full of strangers, so I've spent the past few days looking at my 2001 - 2016, and man. Man. It's so strange and weird and whimsical and sad.

I'm going to be 30 in less than 6 months. Man.

Momentum for the sake of momentum. [30 Jul 2008|12:03am]
Yesterday I was sort of mopey and today was sort of like yesterday the sweet baby Jesus was looking at me and raising an eyebrow and went "You're crying? I'll give you something to cry about, Jennifer Lynn." And sho' 'nuff, a few tears dropped in my sad little cubicle, 'cause man. This morning was nuts. This morning was bad in a way that people who write sitcoms give people bad days. I'm just tired of feeling shitty, so today I collected the list of things that were awful like they were ugly beads and I strung them on a motherfucking necklace and I purposely misplaced it. It was a necklace I didn't care for. I left it on a radiator, or on a counter while looking for a chequebook. I sat and I read. I put on a dress and went for a walk with Patrick. I stumbled upon Jes putting on pants in a parking lot. I drank coffee and sat in a parlour in an apartment building that was so perfect that it made me ache and miss Montreal. I took pictures of myself kissing statuettes. I'm tired of being messy and I'm tired of having to actively take care of myself. I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like I was just hanging around, doing my own thing, and then someone died and straight up dumped me with a child or an elderly dog and told me that I had to take care of it and I have no idea what to do. I feel like chain-smoking for the first time since I stopped smoking a few weeks ago. Depression is boring. I get really anxious when I feel like this because I don't know what to do, but I know I don't like what's going on and I want things to change. I really do feel like someone's laid this gigantic burden on me. And I don't know why, or what it is.

I am fine when I stop worrying and I breathe and I tell myself to shut up. I realize that it doesn't matter and I'm sitting here, over analyzing myself and everything around me and I don't have to and I'm just grabbing onto something to worry over. I am fine when I shake myself by the shoulders. But I feel like I ought to deal with some of this mess while I'm not attached to anything or anyone and.

I don't know.

I don't really know what I ought to do.

It's easier leeching onto someone else's plans.

I am pretty sure I could be content for days, living in this room. Hanging out with old ladies. Talking about Greta Garbo and garter belts and cocktails and growing and aprons and everyone who walked by.

[14 Oct 2006|07:50am]
I coughed for a few minutes straight, gasping harder each time I tried to calm myself down. My French teacher asked me if I was okay and if I wanted to get some water and I answered by shaking my head no and yes. In the hallway, I drank 80% of the water in Raleigh, North Carolina via water fountain. In the bathroom, I took two teaspoons of hydrocodone (instead of the recommended one! Oh dear) and popped a few cough drops. My Spanish class was cancelled, so I got to leave campus at noon. In the car, I took two puffs of my inhaler and then quickly realized that the combination of no food, hydrocodone, and my inhaler left me with a slight, pleasant buzz. I spent the forty five minute drive home listening to Death Cab for Cutie's Plans without skipping songs, thinking about how hopeful and happy I was.

I was going to visit Isaac during winter break, over Christmas and New Year's, and come back the day before spring semester began. I can't miss more than thirteen days of work without the system terminating me from its records (such a caring and personal machine), which I was pretty upset about initially, but... when I went up to visit him for the first time, I only stayed for 12 days. And when he came down to visit me, he was here for 11 or 12 days, as well. But anyway, I was planning my visit around school, and then I realized that... I... don't have to go to school on January 3rd.

I'm taking a semester off and visiting Isaac December 30th - January 11th. We are getting dressed up and going out for New Year's Eve (a time where I usually eat tiny hot dogs and mozzarella sticks and drink sparkling white grape juice with my family, all save three times: once me and Allison Gee ventured to a hick town called Lizard Lick and were almost devoured by zombies and twice I hung around on Don's couch) and I cannot put into words how excited I am. The weight that is off of my shoulders. In not knowing what I want, I've found exactly what I want. A plan inside of my lack of plans. I want to work and save up money and move away for the summer. I want to find a way to continue studying French and Spanish before I go back to school in the fall. I'm not taking a semester off of school just to visit a boy for under two weeks. School has been wearing me down and I feel like I'm not going anywhere, even though I am making A's and B's in the foreign language and general education classes that I am taking. I'm not going toward anything, not working toward anything in particular, just taking the classes that you need to take to get any degree. I've almost run out of general classes to take. I'm thinking about taking this semester off and going to Durham Tech to play with teeth in the fall, but... I'm not sure. All I know is that I feel a lot happier now that I've decided to take some time off.

It's chilly and it is harder to write this entry than I thought. I think I'm going to go to sleep now. I was shakey-sleepy-cold in the grocery store from 10:30pm last night until 7am this morning.

I hope you all are well.

C'est étrange parce que c'est mon coeur. [11 Oct 2006|07:05pm]
[ mood | EXCITED. ]


[07 Oct 2006|08:58pm]
I Almost Went to Bed
Leonard Cohen

I almost went to bed
without remembering
the four white violets
I put in the button-hole
of your green sweater

and how i kissed you then
and you kissed me
shy as though I'd
never been your lover

Tunacorns. [03 Oct 2006|05:26pm]
So, there's this kid I went to high school with, who I met at this apartment me and Kerry frequented last summer, yeah? And the people who lived in the apartment were mostly all drinking and smoking and snorting and always trying to out-do each other, always trying to be the bigger, more hilarious asshole, to the point that is was tiring, to the point where you couldn't say a goddamn single serious thing, to the point where I was sitting on the couch, drinking plum sake, and talking to this boy I used to go to high school with, who remembered my face, who I did not remember until hours and hours after re-meeting him, who did not say loud, attention-seeking things.

During this past year I've grown up quite a bit and have traded in swimming while stoned and drinking plum sake on a couch in an apartment where people were snorting coke in the only bedroom for spending quiet evenings at knitting and scooping up plastic skeletons from the streets of North Raleigh and practicing French and Spanish and working full time and leaving the country and talking to Isaac until cringe-worthy times in the morning. Also I have quit smoking cigarettes and have stopped hanging out with the same people. The last time I saw this boy, I told him I would see him later, but I actually didn't see him until over a year later, when I bumped into him at the grocery store with Isaac while we were visiting Katie. A few days later, I was leaving a message on for Moses on the telephone while I stood outside of the house, and this boy drove by and stopped and this is how I knew I changed from last year....

Last year I was really quiet and my social anxiety was creep-creeping back up and I was really, ridiculously worried about impressing people. This past year I have been hanging out with Katie a lot and she has really opened up my inner asshole. I am more confident in saying horrible things and I know that it isn't the end of the world if I look like an idiot to someone who doesn't even know my last name. This is how I've changed: I hadn't seen this boy in forever, and the first thing I said to him as he pulled up next to my house and parked awkwardly was, with my hands on my hips, "WAY TO PARK LIKE AN ASSHOLE, JOHN."

He gave me his telephone number and I didn't call for weeks because I am pretty antisocial (in a content way, though) and just like to hang out with Katie, mostly, and I am really busy with school and work and when I'm not doing that I am talking to my sweetheart or sleeping. But the other day, me and Katie were bored and we didn't know what to do and we couldn't entertain each other (even though we are IMMENSELY ENTERTAINING INDIVIDUALS), so we called this boy and asked him if he wanted to go on a picnic with us.

I swear to God, Katie and I live to make people uncomfortable. We have spent so much time around each other that people assume we are sisters. Strangers we converse with when feeling bored and friendly, people we have worked with for months? Think we're sisters. And we're such jerks to everyone and we just can't stop. I'd only known this boy in hallways in high school and in this beat-up apartment near the mall, so asking him to go on a picnic with us was kind of... it went pretty fantastically, I think.

We picked him up and went to Fresh Market, where we got tortilla chips and peach salsa, thin lemon-flavored Swedish cookies, tea biscuits, a cup of mixed fruit, sparkling French limonade, chardonnay, strawberry guava juice. Then we drove to Shelley Lake and had a picnic hidden behind some trees. Then we went to the hookah bar and smoked apple and strawberry flavored tobacco until we were buzzed from all of the oxygen and sleepy from all of the smoke and quiet. Then we rode a little kid merry-go-round ride for fifty cents and tried on Halloween costumes at a creepy K-Mart and then we went to the $1.50 movie theater and saw Over The Hedge and then we went to the grocery store that me and Katie work at and I saw my schedule and almost cried because I was only scheduled for fifteen and a half hours and I am used to working forty and I need to save money. And then I talked to Felix, the night manager, and he and Katie gave me more hours. Hoorah!

Here are photographs from yesterday!

Click!Collapse )

Pet names on a Sunday between midnight and seven thirty (while working at the grocery store): [01 Oct 2006|09:04am]
[ mood | gimme a pot of coffee, baby. ]

Baby, Sweetheart, Darling, Sweetheart, M'Lady, Ma'am.


I'll win that Mötley Crüe mirror if it fucking kills me. [30 Sep 2006|12:00pm]
Watch a love story on television, forget to shave your legs. The soft click of a camera and certain high heels. A man walking into the grocery store with a young boy, saying "Love is like a tide, you know what I mean?"

I predict seeing many rabbits that drink from teacups, the temperature dropping, crisp sentences and short skirts.

Daydreams include grocery shopping lists for a teensy budget, getting lost in cities that could easily devour me, waking up from a good sleep on a mattress on a floor somewhere else, painting all day long and not having anywhere to go, casually leaving the country in two and a half months.

What is there to do in Seattle in December?

Boring. [24 Sep 2006|07:34am]
[ mood | Boring but good. ]

Sometimes I come to and I don't know where I am. Sometimes I'll be wearing a wife beater and a ballet skirt and sitting on a rocking chair and I'll realize suddenly that I am no longer at work, I am no longer scrubbing cash registers, collecting garbage, stocking cookies and tropical Chex Mix, scraping gum, laughing on the juice aisle, telling Felix that Isaac is not my husband.

I am exhausted, but it is so refreshing. I get nothing done when I actually have the time to do things.

I just worked from 10:30pm last night until 7:10am this morning. I'm going to relax for a wee bit and then start working on my Spanish project and my French project. Around noon or 1pm, I'm going to go to sleep. I'll wake up sometime around nine or ten and I'll go to work at 11pm. I'll work until 6am and then I'll come home and work on homework, maybe take a nap. At 9am, I will leave for school. At 2pm, I will come home. I will try to stay awake for as long as possible so that I can sleep like a normal human being, maybe from 10pm until 7:30am. ... Which I just realized are the hours I work when I work the night shift at the grocery store. Huh. Well. How about that?

I'm not getting enough hours working at the customer service desk and as a supervisor, so I asked Felix (who is the night time grocery manager) if he needed any help stocking on the nights I have off. And voila, I have about twelve more hours.

I am pretty excited about Earth.


Are you ever gonna hold me down? Oh no. Will you get tired of holding me tight? Oh no. [21 Sep 2006|02:28pm]
My tiny little sister spends her days smoking cigarettes on our front porch. She takes all of her meals there and is going to counseling soon and is optimistic about her ability to follow Nancy Reagan's advice and "JUST SAY NO." My hands are sticky and here's to hoping.

I have never been one to indulge in too many illegal and or "immoral" activities. I consider my seventeen year-old self to have been an alcoholic (black cherry beers in the morning, banana liquor at night, passion fruit and mint-milk drinks around supper time -- Don and I were very into what we thought was freedom and alchemy. Rum although I hated it, whiskey sours that went on for days, large bottles of already-mixed Long Island ice tea for the lazy lush), I once bought alcohol illegally in the states (a bottle of Red Stripe at an indie movie theater when I was 18 or freshly-19). I lost my virginity at age seventeen to a boy I'd kiss for two years, two months, and two days. I smoked a few cigarettes from age twelve until nineteen, but I doubt enough to fill an entire carton. I've smoked up a few times, but I could count the hits on my fingers and toes and it never really did anything for me, so it's hard empathize with my sister's skin crawling on Day Three of Sobriety. Isaac tells me that he his fingers and toes wish to corrupt my fingers and toes. I find this to be charming.

I am saving my pennies and dollars and looking up how far away Seattle's Greyhound station is from its airport (a little under sixteen miles). I am fantasizing about the bus ride from Seattle to Vancouver, making myself sandwiches while I wait at airports and bus stations. Curling up in a blanket I made and looking out the window. I just typed "winter" instead of "window." Looking out the winter.

Today most of the girls in my interpersonal communications class told all of the boys whether they thought size really mattered while the teacher listened and nodded. We were in a circle.

What did most people think?

I will spend all of today cleaning, I think.

Ugly tiles on the floor. [15 Sep 2006|02:36am]
[ mood | Sleepy, clutchy. ]

Oh, my little bees. I have felt so quiet lately.

I miss this boy, nestled in another country and on the other side of the continent. I miss sharing my bed with him and not sleeping entangled with him but rather having our own space -- but just being able to slip an arm around his waist when I woke up. I miss playing Wendy and cooking him egg sandwiches on cinnamon raisen English muffins before we drove to school, falling asleep in his lap while watching German movies. His eyes and fingers. I miss having him around to finish up what's on my plate after lunch and supper, leaning down in the library to kiss him after my classes got out and it was time to go home. Washing his hair and beard in the shower, wrapping my legs around him in swimming pools. His sighs.

He has only been gone for two weeks.

Lately my days are full of psychology or interpersonal communication class, level two French and level one Spanish.

Sometime before mid-October, I'm going to buy a plane ticket for Seattle and a bus ticket from Seattle to Vancouver. Sometime in mid-December, I'm going to take a plane to Seattle and a four hour Greyhound ride to Vancouver. I'll leave in early January.

I think I am going to move to Montréal in the summer. I think that I am going to work hard these next few months and pay off my credit card bill while saving cash and I am going to just pick up and leave the country and live with his boy in a large francophone city.

What could I do in Montréal? I couldn't work, but I could pay half the rent and buy some food and I could curl up with this Canadian fellow I adore, paint and read and write and clean and cook, explore the city and listen to people speak French, knit and clear my mind.

My heart feels pretty good lately.

I am knitting a blanket.


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