crass and immodest and worldly

Writing has become really ritualistic for me, which is absolutely no problem at all, but not in the way I expected.  When I first started blogging, before I knew what writing really was, I'd always write about every huge thing that would happen to me.  You see, things were really tough back then.  I was struggling with who I was and what I was doing and who I would become and what I would do.  Every little thing that happened became a triumph, particularly if I could articulate it into words.  

So I guess now I look at this little guy here with slight contempt.  I don't really get to be honest, which is no fun.  To be honest would be to open myself up too much to you.  You'd see why I cried at work for three straight days last week, or why I have to turn some of my facebook friends on mute, or why I'm insanely nervous and excited (or nervited) tonight.

Sometimes we have to reserve those moments for our personal journals.

Or.

For the time when I might have a book published and hopefully be so far removed from everything that I can write about the truth and no one will care.

So tell me this: at what point can I start writing about life experiences that include other people?  

And to cap this all off, I'm having surgery tomorrow.  I'm not going to be blatant about it right now because according to my mother to talk about it is crass and immodest and worldly so all I will say is that you will no doubt notice when you see me.

Obvious enough for you?

I'll write about it later, probably once I get up the guts to be honest.  

I'm so sorry!  Why am I being such a wuss?!

all I want is to save you honey...

I've really got to stop listening to all of this Fiona, and I know we're only allowed to listen to her on Thursdays, but she's the only thing that fits right now, so I understand if that means I can't sit with you anymore.

I think I want to watch Mean Girls.

But really I've just been watching Friday Night Lights again, which reminds me that Coach Taylor is perfect and Tammy Taylor is perfect and I really hope that one day I can have a relationship like that.  The kind where you can tell each other everything that's bothering you without worrying about it ending or being destructive.  Maybe you'll fight enough that you kick him to the couch for the night but the next day he'll come back and tell you how he's really feeling...and it will all be okay.

Meanwhile Fiona is the one who fits how I'm feeling.  Every little bit.  So when the tickets for her concert go on sale April 21, I fully expect many of you to say "Jen, we hate her music" when I ask if you want to go with me, and I fully expect to feel just fine with that.  Because she's right.  So behold, I present my current state in Fiona lyrics.

I'm good at being uncomfortable, so I can't stop changing all the time.


I'll make the most of it, I'm an extraordinary machine.


I promise you, everything will be just fine.


but the last one I had who was getting my hopes up, I might've been a little fast to dismiss


Everything good I deem too good to be true


O' sailor why'd you do it.


I've got a plan, a demand, and it just began.


I'm either so sick in the head I need to be bled dry to quit.  or I just really used to love him.  I sure hope that's it.




I could keep going, but then you'd all start questioning my sanity.  So I bid you goodnight as I am now going to continue reading some of the teenage girl literature I bought so I could remember what it was like to be one so I can write like one.  make sense? No?  Fine.  I'm going to go eat some cheese now.




...or the strength to walk away.

penguin.

My brain is moving so rapidly right now, and every other word I type is not the word I think of in my head, and I need to sleep but I can't.

It's okay.  It's all going to be okay.  I've got a plan.

It's all so not fair and so not funny but it's also going to be fine.

There's this timeline in my head, and if I do everything the way that I should it will happen next year, and everything will work out.

See?  Not so hard...this life.  Right?

sea of [tears salt love]

Ugh.  I am not allowed to stay up all night long as I did the other night, even if it is just playing Scum for six hours straight at a cabin in the woods with my little brother and his friends.  Because then it sets my entire schedule out of whack, and I can't sleep, and when I don't sleep I read, and when I read I find truth, and when I find truth I cry, and when I cry and I find truth I want to write, and then I want to write things that I cannot tell you.

My apologies.

There's so much I wish to speak about, rejoicing in events and expressing just how scared I am, mostly just so that I can share all of this with somebody in the only way that I really feel I'm competent.  Instead of telling you about some recent happenings that make my heart flutter and my muscles ache and my soul content, I'm going to keep my trap shut because I have to. Because I have made so much progress, and I've been so good, and I've done it all the right way... but I'm bursting here.

You wouldn't know me.  You'd be shocked, actually.  I've evolved a lot over the last few months into this strange person who feels really confident, and independent, and shockingly at peace with whatever happens.  That is, until it's 4:30 in the morning and hormones are probably to blame and suddenly I lose my security and just want to be in a different room in a different city just so that I can hear you breathe and watch your chest rise up and down while you sleep.

Am I making sense?  No?  Good.  Because none of this is supposed to.  Because I can't!

I mean, can you just buy me a damn penguin already so I can just be content with my current status and just let it be?

all of this is brought to you by Azar Nafisi and her stupid insistence that I find intelligence, and career, and once I feel like I've made a good showing there, find myself some love.  What if it doesn't want to find me back?!

.

yeah.  it's definitely Christmas.  I love it when this is what Christmas is like for me.

baaaaaangs.

they couldn't come at a better time.  I'm feeling SUPER bad-A right now with how I'm handling myself in certain situations, and I love what bangs give me.

BOOM.

flames.

I'm restraining myself from an angry rant right now.  Because once something gets published on the internet, it stays there.  Did you know that?  When you reply to something and insinuate rude things and then blatantly act rudely it STAYS?  Because it does, and I've had it, and I am SO done.

Whatever.

Dumbledore is gay.

Get over it!