jenn

.fugitive.
you know it's been awhile when you've changed all of your passwords except for one.

it's jenn.

jenn in india.

jenn with a new password.

jenn who can no longer relate to the words she once wrote in this thing.

jenn who believes that feeling the prospect of a great change is what caused her to let go in the first place.

so this is redemption.
sweet, sweet redemption.

whether i'll find it in me to make this more regular, i can't say.
but i thought it was time to revisit.

strange times indeed.

yes, i am in india, living in a valley surrounded by hills that turn to silhouettes at sunset.
i spend my days in a consistent state of peace, chewing on sugar cane, watching ants crawl in two-way traffic lines towards cracks in the pavement.

updates:
new mexico is a part of the past.
the university of chicago will be my next destination in september.
i lost my virginity to a boy from quebec.
i finally had my time with matt.
i am now dating a social worker from germany whose name i can't properly pronounce.
i smoke.
(i am addicted to the smoke rings more than the nicotine.)
the future is manmade, i no longer have anything to do with it.
attachments are now extremely (sometimes frustratingly so) hard to come by.
i'm not the type of girl that cries.
(i admit that i've forgotten how)
i rarely feel ashamed.
the same rule applies to regret.

i miss people still, from time to time.
but sad is a very hard thing to do.

but i think of you, despite the grand disappearing acts i've pulled.

i think of you.

.big.boats.make.me.seasick.
i'm on the ferry once again, sitting in the still frame of a perfect award winning photograph. instead of clouds and the permeating chill of west coast rain, i get a sunset this time, and i am grateful.
a phone conversation with a dear, dear friend has lifted the heaviness of a fresh goodbye.
i am grateful for that as well.
i am a silouhette to those standing behind me, facing the sun and its shimmering trail embrace of the rippling ocean surface. the loose strands of hair, free from their prison behind my ears, shine their personalities in the wind. the taste of salty peanuts and tea with half and half have found home inside of my warm mouth and the most immediate afterthoughts of a surreal ten day journey begin to ripen inside of my head. my mind is fertile with new memories and new concepts to think about.

what have i learned today, you ask?
i've learned that loving can strip you down to nakedness, to being bare and vulnerable to the unforgiving cold. but love can also be the thrill of making out and the chill that runs down your back when someone applies pressure to the tips of your fingers with warm gentle lips and teeth.
love is asking a stranger on a ferry ride for a pen and disovering that they have one and will kindly let you use it.

as for the other things i've learned today, they cannot be materialized or made solid into words just yet, but they will be when i face a situation that calls for the unidentified wisdom that i've obtained.
part of the beauty of wisdom is tracing it back to its origin.

beauty is also present in the fact that you cared enough to ask.
again, i am grateful.

.derived.from.a.letter.to.roslyn.
seven days left.
i'm not sure how i feel.
sad? sure.
happy? yes.
two years is long enough for a place like this. i'm so tired all of the time, an i'm not sure what causes that, if it's my mind wearing out the rest of my body with its constant stream of thinking, or if i'm just crashing after two years of the kind of intensity i haven't the words to describe. going home is going to be surreal.

i don't know how i'm going to leave this place. i know that i will, and that i need to because a month more could taint two years of i don't know what to call it. but the people, my family, how will i be able to leave them, how will i find it in me to put distance between us? i know i will see these people again, undoubtedly, which is something new. if i ever find the need to seek understanding, i know where to find it. i don't know if i'll be able to deal with the physical separation though, the inability to crawl into bed with chelsea or josue after a long, tedious day. who will hold my hand for no reason at all, or grab me and kiss me a million times after i've returned from a weekend getaway with the words "jenn, don't leave me again." i am needed here, and they are needed.

so we sit, restless, with the same thoughts running through all of our heads. what will the real world be like? we've been away for so long, we're like domesticated animals that are no longer fit for the wilderness. at the same time, we all know that it's time to go, that we need to leave, that we need to get our lives moving in real time again, that we need independence.
we all embrace the future that frightens us, frustrated and exhausted from the contradiction that we presently live.

we also know, however, that things will be okay, as they always turn out to be, but the farewell moment is what replays over and over inside our film critic minds. the farewell moment: our ticket to the real world.

we've been desensitized to the real world in unimaginable ways and have gained understandings and developed definitions of words like 'love' and 'friendship' that are specific to this place and our relationships. these understandings, we find, are sometimes too intense for people on the outside. they are intense, and run through german enigma machines, making translation available to very few.

this experience will be the factor that sets us apart in years to come. it has blessed us with the kind of wisdom that many obtain in a lifetime, and it has cursed us with a foundation for comparison as we will forever make analogies out of what we face and feel in the future with what we've faced and felt here.

so, what will become of us?
after two years of what we all know and feel but cannot find the words to define, what will become of us?

.india.
i looked through a portfolio of steve mccurry's photography.
a genius photographer, i must say.

'above all, i feed on the colours of asia: deep henna, hammered gold, curry and saffron, rich black lacquer and painted-over rot. as i reflect back on it, i see it was the vibrant colour of asia that taught me to see and write in light.'

there were many images of india,
images that placed me there right next to him.
this next ten month detour is going to change me forever, i think.

why is that somewhat frightening?

.sometimes.i.write.
i remember that night
nicotine addicts and cigars,
how the multicolored clouds of smoke
made dancing shapes around us, stained us,
then went home to the atmosphere above us.
we'd drank just a bit too much,
revealed ourselves and got intimate,
and in my hungover state
i could still taste you inside of my mouth
and feel your handprints imprinted
on my hips.

we laughed a lot, and things were okay.
we didn't want to feel the ground beneath us
so we flew up high and shared
our romance with the stars.
starlight brought to life the honesty, the focus
in your face. i fell in love with you,
and saw it in my reflection on
that mini constellation of sweat beads
on your forehead.

remember how i crept through the
network of hallways in your body
and made your nerves shoot fireworks
through your skin?

i don't even know your name.

sober: i still feel the dirt
on my body, the smell of lustful
sweat and guilt.

you left in the middle of the night,
you left me there, alone.

we were beautiful,
and i remember us with style,
my style.

i've made you worth something.

.hm.
i realized today, when turning in my english books, that in the course of this school year, i've read eight books for class, and managed to squeeze in five for leisure.
that has to be some kind of a record.
well, for me, at least.

.gershwin.
i went and saw a one-man musical in santa fe on saturday. it reminded me of 'the big bang', a two-man musical i saw with neal in philly. this guy, hershey (i forget his last name) was a genius. he played the piano like it was an extension of his body and sang with the voice of a 'fall-in-love-with-me' tenor.
i don't even like tenors very much.
gershwin: like a modern day beethoven.
i never knew that he died so young.

.drunk.and.falling.down.in.the.street.
you say i choose sadness, but it never once has chosen me.
maybe you're right.

i had to get it all out, because it all came rushing back to me one day as i sang a song that i'd once written about it when it was fresh. i guess i hadn't realized how much it still gets to me when i sit down and have the time to think about it.
so i wrote. i wrote like i had the intention of writing an entire novel...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
nothing is real when you are taken away from your sleep with turbulence, unexpected like the earthquake caused by the grinding and collision of the earth's techtonic plates. sleep is the closest to non-existence you can get when you're alive, and being awake is existence. i hate being woken up, because for that moment, eyes open and unfocused, the state of non-existence and existence overlap and you're caught in an imbalance as you sway back and forth from one to the other.

i hate them for waking us up, my brother and i. i had hoped for pretty dreams that night after losing that painful battle to stay up, to be awake when he came home because coming home proved that everything she said had been one huge misunderstanding. when i gave into the unbearable weight of heavy eyelids, i asked god for pretty dreams so that i could find some kind of peace, even if peace only existed in when i didn't.
"sweetie, wake up. we have to talk."

dad?
dad was home. that meant that everything was okay, that all of that distress and tension happened for nothing. i was sure.

i opened my eyes, and a palette of yellows, reds, and browns glazed unevenly on the surface of my pupils. it was sunny, a perfect sunny day. i could tell because the sun illuminated the yellow textured walls of my room, even through mauve colored blinds and maroon curtains. i never did get to changing them to fit the color scheme i'd initially wanted. i don't think i ever will.

the dreams i had, pretty or not, cleared from my memory in a second. i needed to make room for the relief i'd feel in being told that everything was alright in the form of an apology for worrying me like that. everything was content and perfect, like the memory i have of that picnic nine years ago when i screamed my dad's name as he parachuted out of a helicopter and floated down from the sky into my outreached arms like my very own angel.

he called my brother into the room.
josh walked in, wild haired and sleepy eyed.
'sit next to your sister.'
that tone of voice, filled with something, sorrow maybe?
guilt?

i didn't understand.

i woke up, and my vision came to focus as i fell back into existence. i became aware of the room that i was in, my room, the feeling that diffused from my mom standing there, staring into space but not really seeing anything. my dad sat next to us, next to my brother and i, and one glimpse of his face made me realize that he looked ten years older. that's all it took. i wanted to crawl back into bed, and forget that i'd even hoped for an explanation, because i wasn't expecting one that i didn't want to hear. damn me and that optimism.

the following twenty minutes of 'talk', or confession rather, plated the reason behind a decade of aging in lead, heavy, poisonous lead.
you woke me up to tell me this?
i asked god to put pretty dreams in my head and you woke me up.
now they are gone forever.
i hate you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

and that is what i wrote.
i remember periods of my life that were lonely as hell, where it seemed that i'd meet betrayal every corner i turned. i was always the kid who moved away, and as hard as i tried to keep in touch with people that had validated me as a  person in some way, they always seemed to fade away, and i'd live years in denial believing that they'd needed me, and still need me, as much as i once needed them. my parents were the ultimate betrayal that caused part of me to close up somewhere, a part that has made me cold and honest in a way, honest with life, and honest with the fact that most people aren't worth hanging onto, and they aren't worth your faith or your forgiveness or your heart. and so, for the past few weeks, i've forgotten how to feel, in a sense, because sometimes feeling seems too human, and sometimes being human is unbearable. the intensity of any emotion, on the positive or negative end of the spectrum are just too much, especially when you know that usually one emotion cannot exist without the other. i hate feeling sad because who likes to feel sad? i hate feeling happy because it doesn't feel real, happiness feels inhuman in a way that i can't explain, like society has put it on the branch of a tree, a branch that you're still an inch or two from reaching even when you're on the tips of your toes with your arm stretched so far that you can't even feel it anymore.

so i've decided, fuck it.
and i'm finding myself a chair to stand on.

and with this, i feel like i should say a couple of things to the people that i do want to feel something for in my life.

chelsea: i am so sorry for everything, and i hope that i haven't made you feel like any of the distance has been your fault. i love you, and i know that you'll never be one of those people that fades away because i don't want you to, and you've made me believe that you don't want me to be one of those people either. if you let go of me, i'm not sure this courage that i've found in being vulnerable enough to love will ever come back.
durga: i love you.
josh: i love you.
braden: i love you, and i promise you that you'll figure it all out someday.
anne: i love you and i promise that i'll never, ever let you go. i'm sorry if you ever had to question that because of me. it hits me, at least once a day, that you're someone that i need too, and i will never abandon you.
ben: i love you. i've never told you, but you're someone that i could definitely fall in love with, but i understand why it can't be that way, so i'm content.
matt: i love you.
bryan: i love you, though i honestly wish you could make more time for me these days. it hurts so much to only get to see you when you're just passing by on your way to see her.
jayson: i love you.
ana: i love you, despite the fact that we live together and that nick living in our room, you leaving your music on and borrowing my shit all the time really makes me want to kill you sometimes.
anna: i love you. if you were gone, i would definitely notice.
aubrey: thank you.
roslyn: thanks for hanging onto me, you're the only one who really has.
jon: fuck you.
neal: i love you, so much sometimes that it steals me away from the life that i live away from you, and i hate that. i have to hold myself back from you, try desparately hard not to contact you, even when i need you, because i realize that for you, all of the attention probably suffocates you. i wish you'd understand that the way time works here, i don't do it often enough. i worry about you all the time. i hate that you probably think i'm overly sentimental and somewhat of a drama queen. your distance kills me.

mom and dad: i forgive you.

.canine.violation.
that's right folks.
today, i got violated by a dog.
this campus is full of them, strays that wander in from unloving pet owners in town. they get into buildings, beg for food, and they follow you around everywhere. on the way back to my dorm from the shack, i took a detour to use the rest room. one of the strays managed to get inside the building, as well as the bathroom that i was in, crawled under the stall, and licked my left foot.

now i always give this place credit for many of the firsts i've experienced here, but this is ridiculous.

a dog watched me pee today.
ew.

i say, at least it wasn't josue from bermuda...

.exams.
i am finished with chem for life.
never again will i have to study environmental chemistry or fuels and energy.
never again will i have to calculate an enthalpy change, or guess the spontaneity of reactions using gibb's free law of energy, or think of what the value of an equiliberium constant really means.
never again will i have to remember the names of the functional groups in organic chemistry with a rap : triple-a-hak-c-e-a. (word.)
in college, i'm taking a non-math related science course for core curriculum, like bio for dumb kids.
...yes!!!

math paper two can sleep with me at night.
it was relatively easy.
i love that.

english paper one today can sleep with me as well, we could get married even.
i fell in love with the passage chosen, and falling in love with what you have to write a commentary on is a good thing i should say.
i didn't even look at the poem.
i wrote a note to the IB grader at the very end saying thanks.
i know, i'm a nerd.

one more english paper, three history papers, and i'm done until the twenty third, baby! music worries me not. it should actually be quite fun.

(grinning, like a fool)
</p

.strawberry.
living life in slow motion.
a day becomes the equivalent of a week, broken hearts mended in a week, a day, a month, no one cares. time isn't real here.
we aren't real.

the room is warm, but my feet are cold.
the scent of that strawberry hookah we smoked for hours is lingering.
i hope it decides to stick around.

.exams.
math paper one didn't murder me, not completely anyway.
i'm pretty comfortable with the assumption that i at least got a four.
a five?
i'd be in heaven.
three papers to write tomorrow.
that might finish me off, especially that looming chem paper two, but you know, that paper isn't going to determine my success for future years to come. i talked to dad on the phone today and made myself feel better. i've taken on quite a workload here, seven subjects, and a challenging math and science course. i could have taken easier courses, but there are no 'could have's at this point. if it kicks my ass in the end, then it's all good. we all need a good beating once in a while.

.goodtimes.part.nine.
ben and i.
he looks so young.
that was the first time i'd ever been up to sebastian canyon early first year.
it was windy.

i love the wind.

.old.fashioned.
i've decided to go back to writing more regularly in my paper journal. i like how rebellious my handwriting is, how it isn't a reflection of all of those writing rules that were imprinted into my hands in primary school. i can also get much more personal, be less ambiguous, and release my frustrations there. this online journal will shift in purpose and mood now, i'm sure. i just want you all to know that i'm okay, and i'm still, and will always be in love with living, even when things turn to shit. like i said, we all need a good beating every once in awhile, but you know, strawberry hookah memories aren't ever missed or taken for granted either.

.broken.record.
...my life on plastic.
i read through an old journal today.
it covered quite a bit of time, from the summer of 2001 to early 2004.
i remember now why i abandoned that stupid thing.
all the complaining, self-pitying, being screwed over time and time again, the sickening optimism, overused excuses, and "i forgive you"s ran me around in little distressing circles. everytime i arrived back at the point i'd started from, i'd somehow managed to erase everything in my memory and each new revolution felt like an entirely different journey. they were all the same, just placed in different contexts, and i refused to recognize that. i was such an idiot.

i'm fixing myself now, i realize.
i've come a long, long way.
in a couple of years, i'll play perfectly again, and there will be nothing to show that i'd ever been broken in the past.

math paper one tomorrow.
bring it on.
</

.time.isn't.real.
so since classes ended two fridays ago, time has been moving almost unbearably slow. i've written entries in my real journal every day for two or three days in a row thinking that each entry has had two or three days between them. i hope i'm not the only one eagerly awaiting our ib exams. it's not even the 'eager' that comes with preparation because i assure you that the first two exams, math and chem, are surely going to murder me without leaving any evidence behind. i just want things to pick up to a normal pace again, even if that pace involves the kind of stress that induces hairloss for old people. i'm also hoping that i will pass those first exams with at least a four because i'm terrified that the admissions people at u of chicago will have to question my acceptance if i don't. i don't think in numbers, at all, more in concepts. i know theories, and the steps that need to be taken in calculations, but the numbers are like a foreign language. part of me tends to not worry because of the fact that i passed my spanish ib with a five last year without really speaking a word of spanish. the other part, however, tries to be a bit more objective. prepare jenn, refresh your memory, do what you can and hopefully you'll do well enough to keep yourself worry free until you have to deal with your responsibilities in india. those responsibilities, thank you god, will not be number orientated.

.the.living.journal.
i watched it on video with andi and anne last night after the first year show.
the first year show focused on experimental theater of the twentieth century.
it was visually pleasing, lots of cool color schemes and unconventional use of staging technique and body language but thick non-native accents made it impossible to understand any of the dialogue.
i miss being on stage.
oh nostalgia.
watching our production didn't help much either.
watching yourself on video is not an easy thing to do.
we are our harshest critics they say.
i say, the camera + bad lighting really does add ten pounds.

.goodtimes.part.eight.
i love my roomie.
she's once, twice, three times a lady.
i'll miss her.


</p

statistically speaking, most new years resolutions are broken within the first three weeks of the new year. so, let's be realistic. no, i'm not going to make it a resolution to perform on a late night show, or to own a pony, or to bring dinosaurs back into existence.

i thought about what my resolutions this year would be, and besides what's given, i could only think of one.

this year is going to be an exciting one.
for once, i have no idea what's going to happen after the school year is over. in high school, i always had some idea as a fall back. this year, i have absolutely none. my only resolution this year is...

if an opportunity strikes, i am going to take it... even if it involves a bit of risk taking. what have i got to lose?

.

dec. 22nd, 2004
manium warehouse
421 4th Ave. Olympia
3$, 8pm.
featuring: shelby turner, manzana trio, yes please, anne rogers quartet, matter of fiction, damper, two men and a goat, and me.
be there!

it was sunny today.
the world must be undergoing a huge climactic change that will end human life as we know it.

my dad went nuts with the christmas lights this year...(in comparison to the last decade or two). i'll have to post a picture. it's quite amusing i tell you.

i miss you kids already.
enjoy your time at home.
feel free to give me a call... (hint nudge wink cough sneeze yawn poke)

:}

360-456-0255
360-259-6831 (cell)

damn.
it feels so surreal.

hil, i'm so glad we booked the same flight... even if it was on accident.
you can hold my hand.
i hate flying.

will you join in our crusade
who will be strong and stand with me
somewhere beyond the barricade
is there a world you long to see?

i watched the dream cast performance of les mis on video with diana last night. i cried like a little girl.

shucks.
three whole weeks without you kids.
i'll miss you.

(this entry was actually written on friday)

right.

so this is definitely the second update today.
what the hell is my problem?!

i have four major assignments due between now and wednesday. if i kill myself this weekend, then i can have it ALL done by monday and chill until thursday when i take off at 10am.

i'm not really sure why i want to go home so badly.
i really don't have much to go home to, though my parents would probably argue with me on that one.
"you're so unappreciative and selfish"
yeah, yeah...
i know.
they've been telling me that for years.

(sigh)
i suppose i just want to get away from this place for awhile. i've felt like i've been in prison these past four months. i look back now, and i'm really amazed by the fact that i stayed somewhat sane.
i'm going home.

well, no.
i'm going back to washington.

as anti-relationship as i've become, i'm beginning to think that it'd be really nice to find someone to be at "home" with.

sidenote:"wouldn't it be nice?" i hate you. you're interfering with my independence!

everyone that means the world to me is a thousand miles away at the very least. that is the story of my life, however. i suppose it's had it's ups and downs, but as an overall result, i've become very distant from everyone. i show affection when i want to, and only towards those that i'm truly fond of. most of those people are far away, or pretty independent themselves. i don't have friends that need constant attention every moment of every day. i wouldn't be able to give anyone that kind of attention... not if you're within a mile radius, that is.

my roomie and i had a talk the other day because a lot of rumors have been going around on campus lately. i wanted her to know that i was around for her to talk to, even though i can seem really uninterested and boring at times. we let out some of our frustrations about each other when it came to the room. i'm a second year who barely has time to sleep or eat, and the time that i should be sleeping or eating, i'm either writing a song, or writing a letter. i hate it when she brings the whole peanut gallery into the room. her and her girlfriends talk about guys and sex all the time, listen to overplayed songs on the radio, leave lights on, make lots of noise, and yeah...
i get a bit grumpy.
she told me that i seem really distant all the time. i don't know why that struck me, but it did. i can't stand spending too much time with a person, it seems. i am distant. i share a room with her, so i don't talk to her. i don't talk to my other roomie either, but i don't know.

how will i ever feel at home with anyone?
even if i did find someone who reciprocated those kinds of feelings, i'd probably push them away by not being clingy enough.

i'm turning into my mom.
she married a guy who needs that kind of assurance, the mooshy "i love you" kind of assurance.
i don't know if i could give anyone enough of that.

.i.love.you.

--i copy and paste all my xanga entries here now. the xanga keeps in touch with friends from korea, and livejournal keeps in touch with UWCers and maryland kids--
http://www.xanga.com/lazyjenn (if you're ever interested in seeing the other journal)

i wrote this one awhile ago.
it glued itself to my head today.
.incomplete.

verse 1:
i've thought about this pretty often you see
if i mean as much to a flower as it means to me
in times of chaos, flower melts me away
little flower, you gave me faith in human kind today...

but am i a burden to you when you're wilting brown?
do you roll your petaled eyes when you see me come around?
sometimes i'm scared that i've lost you dear friend,
but it looks as if you might lose me in the end.

chorus:
guess we're different you and i
wilt away when the ground is dry
to make you happy i brought you the rain
i didn't mean to cause a flood and kill you anyway.

verse 2:
so i'll stop rolling in fields of you
the vase on my table will stay empty too
i'll abstain from the trill of flowers in my hair
should i turn my head and pretend that i don't care?

but that would be lying to myself and to you
tell me what you'd do if you were wearing my shoes
some people say that it'd be easy to let go
but they don't understand that i need you, you know...

chorus


oh crappy day, please end soon. .7.days.

yay for having an urge to write a song at 3am.

verse 1:
when everything sucks
and your future seems fucked
and you've run out of luck
so you quack like a duck
you feel dumb, on the run
oh what jolly fun it is
to fail a test, though you did your very best.

but they say that you're one of a kind
with a different way of thinking...
instead of feeling any better,
your stomach starts a'sinking

hey!
stop thinking that way
you're going to ruin yourself someday
but who could blame me,
who could contest
when a stupid test tells you
that you're not as smart as all the rest

chorus:
assure me
try to cure me
of this ailment
of self-derailment 
(chuggity chuggity chuggity choo choo cha)
potential
detrimental
i'm feeling kinda down
like a lonely circus clown
guess it's just one of those days....

verse 2:
today you feel fat
like you're being a brat
and the world's at it's end
'cause you've lost all your friends
you feel low, like you don't know
if you've got anything to show
for who you are, will you go far?

oh don't you be silly
you've got a friend in Philly.
but what the hell am I good for
i'm stupid, let's face it, that's hard to ignore...

hey!
stop thinking that way
you're going to ruin yourself someday
but who could blame me
for feeling sad
when everything seems wrong
and the world has gone mad?

chorus

just one of those days
nothing is in its right place (?)
you feel like you could cry
you feel like you could die

chorus

it's a work in progress.
haven't titled it yet either.

i hate it when eyelashes fall into my eye.

everything is blurry, like waterdrops on a camera lens.
i don't know if i can walk straight...
a smear.
sepia.
no, i like black and white better.
the side of my hand is stained black from sketching my life in charcoal.
i have no idea what i'm talking about.
where the hell do you think you're going?

i like drinking cold water when it's hot outside, the same way i like drinking hot water when it's cold outside.
brief.
briefcase.

she likes to dance even though she doesn't know how.
i like that specific cut, the way it flows so freely, like coral on the floor of the ocean. she has no worries, only a humorous haiku that she'll recite to her kids. her life is poetry.

why is everything so random?
are you having a bit of trouble choosing a color to paint your wall?
don't be fooled.
it'll darken once it's dried.

take me away.

peel me an orange.

let your self unravel like an unfinished scarf.
your shape will change then, i promise.
i'll pull you tight, and you'll spring right back...
you might not be the same.

i like my coffee black.
i like my tea with milk.

...so what do you say?

13.days.

AH!

so, shelby's setting up a gig in downtown oly for me to perform at.

!!!

holy fucking shit.
a gig.
a show.
jenn.
AH!

(this is me freaking out)

it's not going to be a huge thing, and the audience will be around, oh 30 people? but it is downtown at this warehouse place with a stage and lights, and it's not a school performance or anything like that, and holy freakin' man.
a gig.

i'm not a real musician.

....though writing music and performing in a big city somewhere at night with audiences of 200 people is somewhat of a dream. i'd be a happy kid.

right.
so i'm done.

i did take pictures from last night.
i'll have to figure out how to post them.
eddie izzard is fucking hilarious.

my journal, at this present time, is ugly.

i'm in the process of fixing it.

my taste isn't all that bad....

really

blah.

i thought i'd have a lot of things to say, but they've all abandoned me.

neal, you make me happy!
(sorry to embarass you... but that's what friends are good for, ey?)

this entry is dedicated to you :)



...(!)

you're beautiful neal.
thanks for everything.

i hate turkey.

so i'll walk on the brighter side
put a little bounce in my stride
tilt my chin up, stare at the sky
draw pictures in clouds that catch my eye

.happy.thanksgiving.