It was the Best of Times, it was the Worst of Times...

I had a bad day sandwiched by two really good days, so I guess it got a little outweighed, don't you think? Yes, I am actually going to write about a few days in my life now, rather than just my thoughts on life. Enjoy, as this doesn't happen often. You know why? Because it takes forever to write everything down. So, since I'm supposed to be sleepy and going to bed and nice things like that, I'll try and condense it as much as possible...

WEDNESDAY: I woke up, fell out of bed, and dragged a comb across my head....okay, no. Paul McCartney did THAT. I woke up, stumbled out of bed, hit the alarm, and stumbled back into bed. I do that so often now that I don't even notice. I do it in my sleep. I don't even remember doing it. I just know I did because my alarm was set for six and I woke up at nine. Not that it bothered me. I ate my breakfast, forgot to drink coffee again, and probably...I don't remember what I did next. I think my mom took the boys to get hair cuts, and I sorted laundry or something. When they got back, we all ate lunch (about two hours after breakfast for me...but that's not as strange as last Saturday when I woke up at 11:30, ate cereal, and immediately after ate cream of broccoli soup). Then we drove to the Y's to pick Hannah and Noah up for swim/water polo. After everyone went inside, I drove to my friend's house thinking I was just picking up him for water polo, but then I ended up taking his brother and sister as well. And we kind of left about 15 minutes later than we meant to, so nobody got to swim beforehand. Water polo went well...Lizzie and I were on the same team, and Alex S. and Kara were on another... :( Someday we'll all be on the same team again.

Okay, now here's the good part (I mean, it seemed good). One of my friends wanted to go to the NC State water polo clinic/scrimmage thing that night at TAC. Nathan and Matt couldn't go because they had obligations to be all "Radical"-ish and stuff, Noah had some other Bible study/prayer meeting HIS parents were doing, and I had Sociology (*sighs out of utter and complete boredom*). I asked my parents if I could just go for the first 45 minutes of Sociology in order to get my name on the roll and have some class time, and then leave for water polo, but they said I couldn't (that made me mad). But...it was all going to be okay!! I went to class, and there was a note on the door...there was not going to be any class that night!!!!!! I was very excited. It was if I was just destined to go to the water polo thing.

So, I went, and for a while my friend and I just stood around wondering if anyone else was going to get there. I knew that it usually takes a little while for the whole gang to get over there and to start doing anything, but it was 15 minutes later than the starting time, nothing was set up and nobody was there. Finally, I mustered up the nerve (having my friend along helped) to ask some tall guy standing around wearing a red warm-up suit and carrying a red backpack if he was there for the water polo thing, and if he was confused too. He said he was there for water polo, but that he wasn't confused, only disappointed. But, to our luck, four more people actually showed up!! We didn't get to scrimmage...we only worked on shots and some offense/defense stuff, but my friend got a lot of one-on-one advice from that guy that's there who always gives you water polo tips. I think his name is Bobby or something like that. After water polo, I drove my friend home, went home myself, and may have gone to bed some time, but I don't remember. But when I woke up it was...

THURSDAY: I woke up at 7:30, one hour before I was supposed to leave to get a hair cut. I didn't want to take a shower, because I knew that I would get my hair shampooed at the salon, but because I had been swimming a lot, I had not had an official shower since Tuesday morning, so I thought it was a good idea if I just took one anyways. So I did. Then I drove to the hair salon-place, and from there on it was down hill. I asked her to re-give me layers, long bangs, and to cut my dead ends off while still retaining most of the length on my hair. Now, normally this particular hairstylist is the only person I trust with my hair, because she has curly hair too. But either she was having an off-day or my off-day just cursed me with other people behaving off-ish, but now I have not-as-long-as-I-meant bangs, I really needed one extra, shorter layer in my hair, and I don't think it's any bit longer than it was last December when I got it cut. I mean, I understand that I had a lot of very long, ugly dead ends, probably two inches of them. So if, in the course of a little under a year, my hair grew 2 1/2 inches, then she cut the 2 inches of dead ends off, I am left with only a half inch of actual growth on my hair. And if it grows another fourth of an inch by December (if I'm lucky), then all my hair would have grown this year is 3/4 of an inch!! I know that seems a little petty, but I really like long hair, and I really, REALLY regret cutting it chin-length in 2006. before then it was down to the small of my back, and I didn't even appreciate it. ANYWAYS, I was a little frustrated over that.

But now I can't remember what my darned problem was, but I was an emotional mess all the rest of that day. I won't go into the dirty, gritty details, but it seemed like everything bothered me. All I wanted to do was either yell and scream, or go play something very angry-sounding on the piano in the hardest, fastest way I could play whatever it happened to be. Although now I do recall putting on my Braveheart CD and attempting to be serene for a moment. But then I felt the inspiration to play Camille Saint-Sans' Cello Concerto (I think that's what it's called, but I don't know...) on the piano, which has a lot more notes in it than I noticed, and I had happened to put that on a CD with the Scheherazade (spelling suggestions, anyone? I think it's right, but what doth I knoweth?) on it, which I had been picking out on the piano for a while, but when I put that on and tried to play along with it, I realized I had been playing it flat, all this time! And while I normally wouldn't care, it just made me more mad. So I gave up on trying to play the piano, because after a while I just couldn't play it hard enough. Then, I knew what I wanted...I wanted to swim, and swim as hard as I could, forever! But then I thought that I should probably get the dishes and laundry done. This was in the evening, and my parents had gone out on a date, and I needed to get stuff done. But by the time I did, and got my stuff ready for swimming, I checked the clock...it was 7:53, and TAC was going to close at nine. Of course, that threw me into a fit of rage, because there wasn't anything else I could do with my pent-up energy. I was basically miserable the rest of the night. I just went to bed after a while...

FRIDAY: Um...I woke up at nine again. Maybe nine is my magic number. Anyways, I ate breakfast, took a shower, and tried to take Kara's advice on straightening my hair by blow-drying it straight first and then using the straightener, perhaps using some gel to help along the way. Note to self - never take hair care advice from Kara. She was just born with perfect hair that looks good no matter what she does with it, and if she does nothing, it looks even better. It looks the best of all when she takes a shower at night and goes to bed with wet hair, because she wakes up and it's straighter than her normal princess-like wave. I am NOT lying or exaggerating, ask anyone (the Mattrix [her brother], Lizzie, or Sarah [mutual friends], for example). And of course, like anyone, she assumes that everyone's hair is just like hers. But my hair is the kind of hair that most humans have, and it has tighter curls and more frizz. In all my 18 years I still have no idea what to do with it, probably because I've never met someone with hair just like mine (and for the first 11 years I didn't really care about my hair [and none of you will be seeing pictures of me during that period]). I can brush it only when it's wet, and then I must leave it alone. Even after the hairstylist straightened it, I can't brush it. So I think that it's not the curls that cause the frizz, it's just the texture of my hair. And that's very depressing. I always have wished I had the beautiful black, straight, silky, and shiny hair like Asian people have. I don't think it would look right on me, but I love it. Maybe I'll marry the Japanese sushi-making guy at the sushi bar that I went to and then all my daughters...

Oh, that's right. So I tried to do my hair, and in the end it looked like my hair, only the curls were a little more wavy, and it was significantly more poofy, neither of which I was really going for at all. I was doing all this, because my mom was taking me to a nearby sushi bar for a belated birthday present. I really wasn't eyeing the sushi-making guy, I just thought he was good-looking and tall, and that his sushi was very yummy. I had never had raw fish sushi before, because mom said I can only have it when it's fresh. So I tried it today, and I didn't like it very much, because raw fish tastes just like when you're at the beach, and a wave rolls over you and you get a mouthful of salt water. Yeah. Nothing exceptional in taste, and it's very slimy, but that was the fun part. :D The cooked sushi was delicious, though, and I ate way too much. Fortunately they also had some Miso soup that I could have to balance it out. But just talking about it is making me thirsty...*takes a water break*

Okay. After we got back, my dad called to give us some details about my great-aunt Mot, who was at the rehab center and apparently passed out some how, and was rushed to the hospital, where my dad and my grandma had been for the past little while. I answered the phone next to the couch, and after my mom and I talked to him, I forgot to get back up, and I fell asleep for about 40 minutes. In case you're wondering how that happened, my mom's mom took my brothers up to Creedmoor on Thursday and they are staying through Saturday, and I guess my mom was so caught up in all her cleaning she's finally getting to do that she forgot to wake me up. But I woke up myself anyways, and cleaned my chinchilla cage before a change of plans occurred. My dad needed me to go with him over to my great-aunt's apartment and get my grandma's car, and drive that and my dad's car to the hospital so that my grandma could go home when she needed to. During that trip, my dad tried to convince me to come to the Cary High School Homecoming football game with him, but I declined (nicely, of course). I didn't really want to get all caught up in all that public school mumbo-jumbo going on there, and please--if you are or were public schooled, don't take that the wrong way. I just know I would feel really really extremely out of place at something like that, and even if I knew people there, they probably wouldn't be close friends and would all just hang in their own groups anyways. It would be like going to church at Colonial Baptist, but seven thousand times worse. I really didn't want to go.

So after not going, I was home again and did some more chores before finally setting off to conquer my inner raging demons or whatever (unreleased toxins are more likely). I went to TAC and swam. I knew I needed to just swim mindlessly and think over all my issues of time wasting and what to do about making money and accomplishing goals and other problems I just swallow and forget about but that keep coming up, no matter how much I continually force them down...yeah, I think Thursday was like a "Problem Vomit" day or something. But anyways, I started out in the warm water pool, thinking I would swim mindlessly, but then I kept counting my laps, and by the time I got to 450 (yards, not laps, for all you non-swimmer people), I decided it would be a 500 yard warm-up, and then I would move onto something else. Well, when I stopped, I realized how warm I already was, so I moved to the cold-water pool (okay, it's really just called the "competition pool", but it sure is cold). I meant to swim mindlessly again, but this time I started doing a 200 IM, and while that's slightly mindless, I have to concentrate on actually surviving and things like that. I mean, it's usually pretty effortless, but I think I am still really out of shape. I haven't done any real work out for about two weeks, and then I just swim with masters, and they mostly just do freestyle. I made myself do a 100 butterfly, and it was very hard. This is just wonderful. On average in a Masters practice, I'll do maybe a 100 butterfly all total, and that's on an interval of some sort for 25s or 50s. When you're me, that's pathetic. Butterfly is supposed to be my best and most favorite stroke, and now I'm beginning to favor breast stroke, and that's just not right (again, if you're me). I've hated breast stroke ever since I started swimming on a team, which really was only about 3 years ago, but still...wasn't fun. Recently, though, I've developed the theory that I have been doing the stroke in a non-efficient way, and now that I've changed that, I don't have to put as much effort into it, but I have no idea if it's really faster because I hardly get to practice it or race Kara or anything...

I think my problem is that I really miss the Seahawks and I want to go back very extremely bad. Well, we're just going to have to do something about that...but I don't know when. :(

~Jessica

P.S. I really did mean this to be short, but how can I cover 3 days in a short entry? So if it takes you 3 days to read this, it's understandable. ;)

Mindlessness

There are certain things I love doing, that I just cannot bring myself to put on my “interests” or “hobbies” list. I’m not embarrassed. That’s ridiculous. But…there is some reason or another. Things like: clipping my nails, blow drying my hair, driving, dancing outside in the middle of the night, and being alone in complete quiet.

Ultimately I suppose it comes down to mindlessness. I really appreciate it. That sounds bad…shouldn’t I really like stretching my cognitive abilities? Well, I do. There’s no doubt about that. I enjoy feeling like the gears in my brain are really chugging away (if gears do that…you know what I mean…perhaps I am getting my imagery mixed up, but whatever). But I feel like my brain is like that all the time. It’s as if I’m running endlessly, never taking a break to just sit down and catch my breath, to let my muscles rest. Sure, if I sit down for a long enough time, I get antsy again, and get up and run. But rests are wonderful things.

Clipping my nails, filing my nails…it’s the epitome of mindlessness, in my opinion. I just do it. I’m doing something physical, working on something, and thinking about nothing. I wish I had more nails, or just more activities that were like clipping nails. Watching TV or playing video games just don’t do it for me. I get really wrapped up in television or movies, and when I play video games, I constantly am feeling like I should be doing something else. Clipping my nails is of such benefit to me and others…makes it easier to play guitar and piano, preventing myself from bending the nails back when they’re wet, makes them nicer-looking, and puts a stop to any lethal scratching I may inflict during water polo (you can thank me in the comments section).

I also like things like showering and shaving my legs. Sorry if that’s TMI for some people, but you must understand that I just like that mindless time. Because doing stuff that takes no brain leaves my brain to be opened. I come up with my best ideas for songs, stories, businesses, et cetera, while lathering my hair, getting soap in my eyes, or making funny shapes with my shaving cream (I am really a pro at making many different sculptures as I squirt the shaving cream out…I entertain myself very well). The problem with coming up with such a huge wave of ideas is that you can’t really document any of them in the bathtub. I suppose I could take all my hair that falls out and twist them into a musical staff and music notes, and write down ideas with my shaving cream on the walls…but that would take a lot longer than it would if I just finished the shower, wouldn’t it? Yeah. *sigh* Plus not being able to really read music, as well as my hair having a tendency to just curl up after a while, present problems. Shaving cream likes to melt.

Whatever.

I like dancing, that’s a given. I don’t think I’ve met a girl who doesn’t. I really like it when guys like dancing, too. It was pretty awesome to see all the guys who showed up at the cotillion-style dance class at the homeschool conference. It was even more awesome to see the very few guys who were AMAZING. It let me hope for my generation. Perhaps I will marry a guy who will go dancing with me!

As for dancing outside in the middle of the night, I’d say it is the epitome of freedom…so I don’t know why I just told the whole world I do it. Might as well, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. But I do it because the night is stimulating; the air is clear, crisp, and electrifying. No human is watching. The moonlight shines down like a single spotlight…the stars are my audience, the cool grass is my stage, the crickets and the frogs are my music. I dance without a care in the world. I get warm and breathless, my muscles begin to feel strained, and the beads of sweat begin to surface on my brow. The soft breeze cools me, and I want nothing else but to stay out there forever…

Death is just the easy way to escape. The weather recently has reminded me about this story about a boy and a girl. Simple enough, I suppose. They grow older and fall in love. The boy is poor, the girl is rich. While she goes away to school for her later teen years, the boy, a couple years older, determines to spend the time when they are separated in hard labor, working to make enough to support her. Of course, he knows what she’s used to and is willing to do whatever he can to get as close to matching it as possible. When she comes back from school, three or four years later, he is proud of himself. They meet, and she seems preoccupied. He plans to come over to her house later and propose. He does, but he finds her in the parlor talking with another man—a rich one—who has his arm around the girl. The girl announces, slightly embarrassed and grimly, that she and the rich man are engaged. The boy falls into devastation, and that’s a very understate-ish understatement. He had worked all these years, FOR HER. And now what? She rejects him. Unintentionally, but he can never have her now. He never even tries again. He just crawls into a hole, gives up. However, he’s developed a habit of working hard. In ten years, he’s pretty well off. He’s been keeping track of the girl now. She married the other man and they moved to a house on the lake. One night, the husband leaves for a business meeting. The girl is at home alone. She goes out to enjoy the moonlit night, and comes back into her dark living room. Something in the shadows moves—it is the boy, now fully a man, dressed nicely. His eyebrows are turned down. In his hands is a pistol. The girl is shocked. Her voice trembles as they talk. His is calm and confident. He thinks he wants her love…but in that conversation, he realizes that all he wants is for her to know what he did for her, what he always wanted, and how she carelessly and heartlessly ripped his chest opened, pulled his heart out, and threw it out the window where it was driven to the bottom of the river. The husband comes back home. The man confronts the husband and shoots him soon after. The girl screams, asking what the man wants from her. Now the man comes to his senses…he’s only hurt her more. She hurt him, but he swore long ago he would never hurt her. He’s gone back on the promise. His life is turmoil, and the moment is happening so fast around him, he feels dizzy. With quaking hands he turns the gun on himself. It would make things better for the girl if he was gone as well. He shoots himself in the head. What he doesn’t know is that he’s hurt the girl even more than he could ever imagine. The girl is confused, bewildered…this was not what was supposed to happen this evening! All she can see, though, is what is right in front of her, and that’s any meaning in her life now has surely vanished, and vanished tragically. Impulsively, she grabs the pistol from the man, lets out one last sob…and shoots herself.

It’s not supposed to be that easy. That is not bliss; that is not escape. It’s just tragedy. Naivety, short-sightedness. People commit suicide every day, feeling surely that once their souls have escaped the world, everything will be okay…

I don't mean to leave you on such a negative note. No, I'm not feeling suicidal. Far from it! I was just illustrating something with my little story. Now I shall go and love my life some more!

"Jack of All Trades" - A Complimentary Term for ADD

I feel like I need to rethink everything. You know, I've probably said a thousand times before that I thought I would have everything figured out by the time I turned eighteen. My life would all be in place, I will have decided what to do, I would be doing it, I would be successful doing that something that I was supposed to be doing….etc, etc, etc. And it's very annoying how I am not like that at all. Basically, if you think about it (not too hard, of course), I am a loser. I am unaccomplished because I…well, haven't accomplished much. I know I can. I know it's possible and I have the potential. But there's something…well, a lot of things that I perceive as holding me back. The thing is, I don't think I realize it. I'm still a little kid. It feels funny to say, but I really admire my friend because in a lot of ways he's older than me. Sure, he's almost a year and a half younger than me, but that doesn't seem to make much of a difference. Maturity-wise, most of the things about him are just older. And it's not fair. I look at him and say, "wow, he'd be much better at being eighteen than I am, and I'd be better at being 16." Did I mention it's not fair? I should be being confused about life at 16, and then in a year and a half I will have been sufficiently confused for a long enough time to conclude what I want to do and do it. INSTEAD, I was confused when I was 16 but apparently had not been confused long enough, because before then I didn't even realize that eventually I would have to grow up and pick something to do, and that it just didn't come by existing in my little world.

Don't get me wrong. I have a variety of interests and talents. I used to wonder, and now I've remembered that I wondered it and thus wonder it all over again, whether it was better to be extremely great at one or two things, or moderately good at many, many different things. And that doesn't even mean that I'm good at everything I do. What stumps me is that I expect to be able to do everything and then I run across something I cannot do (which happens a lot), as much as I want to, and then I feel like a failure at everything and have an urge to crawl into a little hole despite the possibility of feeling extremely claustrophobic.

So my friend says I'm a "Jane of all trades, particularly artistic ones." Well, after that compliment, I didn't know what to say. But before that I had told him about how I admire how he sticks to stuff. He has two main interests: Law and music, mainly piano. He swims and plays water polo some, and works so he can have money to pursue his interests. But he's very concentrated (no, not like orange juice, in case you were wondering). I am very jealous. I guess if I ever went to public school I would have been labeled ADD…I'm glad I never was in school, and I'm glad I never got a label like that. But I just have a terrible time sticking to anything. Thus, the whole "loser" label I keep giving myself. It's awful, I know. I don't really have such a low self-esteem. I guess this is actually just between me and myself, and how I just feel back being around myself. But now it's like I feel it's leaking out into public because now all my friends are concentrated and working on their life goals and stuff, and I still don't know what I want.

So I'm going to take that time to do some examination of me. I know, that's sounds so narcissistic, but I really need to do this. I hate thinking under pressure, but here we go anyways.
What do I really feel like I want in life? I want to be a wife and a mother. "That's the first time I've heard someone say that," Ken laughed on Tuesday at Wake Tech. I guess he was just surprised, not mocking me. But still, it was the first time I kind of felt funny for saying that. Still, what are the chances I will actually get married? I hate to think about that. Let's not. On to what I was doing.

What else do I want? Well, let's first think about what I don't want. I don't want to go to college. I don't particularly want to get a job. I don't want to go through life with no money and no life. I don't want to be labeled a "loser" by society and not just myself. I want to make a good name for homeschoolers. Now for what I want. I want to seem important to myself. I want to be amazing. This all sounds funny right now, but I need to be honest. I want to be happy. I want everyone around me to be happy. I don't want anyone to feel insignificant because of me…which there doesn't seem to be that risk right now…anyways. I want success in whatever I do.

Okay, now for what I really WANT to do. Not what I want, but what I want to DO.

I want to work with animals. I want to write books. I want to travel around the world, either by myself or with people I love. I want to play piano amazingly well. I want to write beautiful music. I want to play as many instruments as possible. I want to go sailing, like, real sailing in the ocean. I want to be in love and get married. I want to have children. Lots of them. I want money so I can do all the things I want to do. I want to keep swimming and playing water polo. I don't really want to accomplish anything with them, but they are a fun hobby and they also keep me in shape. I don't want to get fat, or even just go back to being skinny. I like the body I have and want to keep it. I don't want my kids to be fat or skinny. I want them to be healthy and athletic. I don't ever want to lose my creative inspiration. I want to be with my friends and family forever, and I don't ever want to lose any of them in any way. I don't want to go over into the "dark side" again. I want to be a good kid, even if I am an adult now. I want to be a good and creative cook. I want to have an enthusiasm for cleaning and doing other mundane household chores. I want to study history…real history. I want to read classic literature and learn from the best. I want to love God with all my heart, soul, and mind, and study his word. I want insight from my elders so I don't go screwing up my life again. I would like to do acting. I want to start a band.

So what do I concentrate on? Let's say I need four main things - Money, fitness, and two main profitable interests. Working for daddy covers the money thing right now, which includes studying the Product Launch Sequence. Fitness means swimming in the mornings and water polo in the afternoons. Now I have to pick two main interests and stick with them. *thinking….thinking…thinking…* I think…well, I thought…and now I believe…music and creative writing should be my main concentrations once this semester is over. Once I get out of these darned time-wasting classes. They're interesting, but not worth my time. That's the problem. There are too many things in life like that, and what's worse is that our society is so given over to those sorts of things that nobody really knows to do anything better.

One thing I noticed was that I said nothing about improv goals. Do I not have any? Have I lost my passion and fire for it? I think it's diminishing. That makes me cry. I don't want to leave, and it is only once a week, and then the shows one weekend a month. But I seriously need to reconsider what I want. I have been intensely interested in writing and music since I was little. They are things I KNOW I can stick to, and not just fleeting fancies that seem glamorous. I love to do them. Sure, sometimes I get in a rut, but that's only for a bit.

Okay, here is the verdict. If I take any classes next semester, they will be Creative Writing 1 and Elements of Music. I may also get a piano teacher. I'll read lots of books about writing, and also read literature. I will not deceive myself in my motivation. This is what I'm doing. I will also help around the house because I know it will benefit mom and myself because one day I will be a mother, I'm almost sure of it. I will work for daddy and help him with his product stuff. I will swim and play polo. I may eventually marry.

That's another thing. I feel ready for marriage, but I'm really not. I'm nowhere near it. I want it so bad right now. I've concluded that since none of the guys my age are ready, I should just hope for an older guy.......but then, that's kind of not really a good idea. I'm just as ready as the guys my age. I can see it coming in the next five years or so, and if I look I can basically see what I need to be doing to get there. To be ready. I know my girl friends can relate....I just ache to get married right now. I don't know if guys can relate to this at all.....but it's a very hard struggle right now. Granted, all struggles are hard. Duh. But this one is just the worst. It's so hard to do normal, everyday things now, because it comes to mind so much:

Driving through a neighborhood: "Oh, wouldn't this be a great neighborhood to bring kids up in...so peaceful and out of the city...so many trees...the houses are a nice size, and I could buy sofas!!!"

Walking through Target: "Aren't those decorations so cool! Imagine my dining room with that clock and my bedroom with that lamp!"

Still walking through Target: "Awww...cribs! Nighties! Diapers! Booties! Little bouncers! Pacifiers!"

Anywhere: "Look at that family, aren't they so cute? *gasp* A baby...oh, I want one!"

Anytime I see a couple I feel jealous because I'm walking through the parking lot alone. I certainly do NOT get to go shopping for ANYTHING with my husband, and that is very aggravating somehow. There's a girl on the Masters team who is getting married in December or something. I just overheard her telling another girl...but the way she was talking about it was just really casual and for some reason that got me down. Marriage, to me, isn't just a casual matter. I suppose that when you already live together anyways, there's no reason to really be excited. I meant the "I suppose" sarcastically. I just think that at that point marriage is almost pointless. You're already sharing your lives and sharing your bodies. Well, I'm going off in the other direction of what I was trying to say, which I can't really remember anyways because it's a bit late...AND I am trying to have a caffiene crash so I can go to bed, because I have to get up in the morning and go listen to the girls in the locker room at Masters talk some more before I go see the Dead Sea scrolls with...um...a lot of people. I'm excited :D I've been wanting to see them a while, and I don't want them to just go away like that anatomy exhibit did. That was sad :(

That same girl (I think) said that when she was little she once saw some guy swim the English channel all butterfly. That's really extremely cool. However, as much as I adore butterfly, I don't think I should set my sights on doing the same...heh heh.....

I Feel Rejuvenated!!

So yesterday I went to Wake Tech for my British Literature class. Most of you should know that I have a lot of fun in that class, so you can imagine my great and terrible disappointment when we (Elizabeth B. and me, that is) walked around the corner and there was nobody waiting in front of the classroom. A couple friends walking from the door of the classroom informed Elizabeth and me that the class was cancelled, but to sign the role on the door before leaving. With a great reluctance that only Elizabeth seemed to understand, I drearily signed my name and then stared off into the distance, wondering what to do for the next hour and a half. I was still in quite a slump that I had gotten into Monday morning (the same one that caused me to slackishly skip the morning and then the evening Masters swim practices), so by this time I had officially concluded it was not a Monday thing, but just a "thing" brought upon by some unknown source which cause un-productivity and feelings of meaningless and slight depression...as well as a lack of motivation. I can hear you all going, "Oh...that kind of slump...is 'slump' even the right word?"


Yes, that kind...and I don't know. That's why I'm hearing you all asking whether slump is the right word.


Suddenly it occurred to me as I looked out into the Tobacco-haze that there was a McDonald's up the street and that they had coffee. Good coffee. I suggested this to Elizabeth and she said that perhaps we should go to this other place instead...which has a name that I cannot remember, but it's very like Starbucks. And, preferring the coffee-shop environment to the very plastic-feeling environment at McDonald's, I agreed.


While we were there we got to talking (okay, we were already talking, but once we sat down we started talking about something else) about slumps. Apparently she had been in one, too. So we talked, and decided that the best way to get out of it was to actually do something (a little altering of advice from a couple of Bible studies, the book of Revelations, and Dr. Laura played a little part). So we got our school stuff and made a decision to work on it. So we started discussing Beowulf, and then a friend from Elizabeth's sculpture class came in and we talked a while with her...and then we had to go. But when we got up, everything was different. All that talking about slumps and making official decisions to DO something and not be in them anymore.........made all the difference. We felt great!!!

That morning I had driven with a straight face, staring straight ahead, with the windows cracked and the music on, but not very high. I was bored, and wanted nothing better than to be rid of my brain so I could just stop thinking altogether. After the coffee shop, I rolled the windows all the way down, blasted my music (Nickel Creek, for the record), and completely rocked out. I had to set cruise control so I wouldn't go too fast.....

The rest of my day was spent relatively well. Instead of being in a fog I was Claritin Clear, in a great big bubble of happiness, bouncing around, smiling and singing and feeling so amazingly joyful that I couldn't imagine going back to being in such a funk. Lesse...I wrote a blog for the Quotes Only blog, looked up squash recipes, decided to make up my own recipe instead, went squash-shopping, picked up Marck, Hannah, and Noah from swim (in the mean time speaking for a brief moment to the rest of my homies), came home, experimented with the squash, ate said experiments, decided they were good, but to not put so much sugar on them next time, made a video with Marck, worked on my Beowulf composition (it's sounding better since I'm out of that darned mood and can actually think straight), sat around outside with no point whatsoever but didn't mind, and cleaned up the kitchen. I feel absolutely fantastic.

And there's water polo tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, I do believe there's such a thing as over-use of exclaimation points. What are you trying to say?

One of "Those" Entries...

I have just been informed by a certain “Allison”-type-person that I need to update my blog. Thus, this entry...

Many of you are probably wondering how my life has been since my last entry. Well…it’s been just fine, thanks for allowing me to ask for you. The family reunion was kind of a bummer in the area of my own generation, but the two above mine were fine people, resulting in many fine relationships with older people. This generation is just not RIGHT sometimes, you know? However, we homeschoolers and ex-homeschoolers are just fine, am I right, or am I right? Ha ha…sorry for the generalization about non-homeschoolers. Y’all are pretty much okay, I guess…especially since my parents are included in that category.

Anyways, I had an itchy spot and I scratched it and I believe I feel slightly sun burnt. Allow me a moment to check. Okay…only on that small line right before my tan line, where I seemed to have missed putting sunscreen. It’s on both sides. Fancy that. At least I am consistent and symmetrical in my inconsistent unsymmetrical ways.

So the Totally Amazingly B’gorious Seahawks stole another win, leaving us completely UNDEFEATED!!! It is very amazing, considering that at the beginning of last season we were at the bottom of the last division. That’s a bit of a comeback, I’d say. So I believe we get a trophy, and get to move up at least one division, which will make me happy. The thing is that I won’t be able to swim in the fall because of time, won’t be able to compete in the fall because of graduating, and will only have one summer left (next summer…) before having to completely move on forever. However, I am making plans to continue to play water polo (I almost typed “water polka”, which is something a little similar to “water disco” which Matt and I are currently working on perfecting) on the day that Coach has that, which I hope is Wednesday (or Monday)…although I just realized that with the school schedule I have now (not much) I would be able to make it on Tuesday or Thursday. Anyhooness, I really like water polo. Have I ever said that? And I scored a goal on Matt yesterday. Yes, that’s an accomplishment. I think…better go check before bragging more…

Today was nice. I had planned to wake up at six, work out some, take a shower, get ready and go with Elizabeth B. to Wake Tech to clear up some advising stuff. Well, I don’t remember staying up too late last night, though I don’t remember what time I went to sleep, either. And what was I doing…? I seem to recall some faint vision of playing the guitar or something, but then I think that was the night before…well, I don’t know what I was up to. It’s not really important anyway. The point is that I woke up at ten after seven and Elizabeth was supposed to pick me up at eight. I looked in the mirror and…my hair was even on both sides, even though I slept in it! I was amazed. I had to straighten out my bangs a bit, wash my face, put on a little makeup and drink some coffee, and I was ready to go.

We stopped by MacDonald’s for breakfast, and don’t you all just go assuming I didn’t drink more coffee there or anything…that would be ridiculous. We when to Tech, got our advising, I bought my books, and then we went up to Target and Best Buy to look for birthday presents for Michelle. I was about to say what I got for Michelle, but then I remembered she reads my blog sometimes. Um…I also got a new purse finally, because one of the straps on my beloved light brown leather back pack broke, and for some reason the amount of things I keep in my purse has grown since last time I used either of my other purses, so I needed a new one. Thus, a very nice dark brown “leather” purse from Target. I was about to go into a purse crisis, you see. Too small, too big, too shiny and sparkly, too beach bag-ish. But this one is perfect. You know, I should start naming my purses. Hmmm…

I went to the Bradburn’s for lunch where Michelle had prepared some very yummy chicken-thing, with a side of some squash-thing (sorry to totally butcher the names of the dishes, but I can’t remember them…it was great anyways). While she was cooking that, Elizabeth and I looked at some clips on YouTube from “Across the Universe” which is a new movie using Beatles songs for the musical numbers.

I think it would be neat to take the work of some singer or band and make that into a musical. Like they did with Abba in “Mamma Mia.” So today I started thinking about, if I did that, how I would do it, and who I would use. But the thing is that a moment later I realized that I would want to use my own music to go with whatever story I needed the music for. Still, I guess it’s a cool kind of challenge to write a story around existing music, at least for me, anyways. And…that got me thinking that what if I took my own songs and wrote something around them? So I am opening my little binder where I keep most of my finished songs, and the first song, “Understand” is…too wordy and complicated. I don’t know what you think, but songs for musicals shouldn’t be that way. They should be concise and straightforward. Or maybe that’s redundant, but you know what I mean. Second song, “Here” (Rachel J.’s favorite song), is…reflective…you know? I change tenses in this song. No I don’t. There’s just a flashback-thingy. Never mind. Third song, “Residing”, is…longish, but that’s not bad. Actually might work. And actually-actually…it might work better for this thingy I was writing and thinking about turning into a musical that I started writing lyrics for…I don’t know. I like this song though. Fourth song… “Elijah”. Ah, yes…straightforward and concise, no doubt about that. Though not very musical-ish. The fifth song, “Away”, has too much imagery to be in a musical. “Hating One, Loving One, Expecting One”, the sixth song, might work. A monologue kind of thing…yeah. So that’s two so far. The seventh…it really, really, really depends on the context…and that’s a bit more of a personal song anyway. And there’s the part where she’s explaining and the part where she’s talking to the one she’s explaining about. That could be broken up into two songs…oh! To expand “Rockwell”…that would be really cool! I could devise the whole plot around “Rockwell”! Now I’m getting excited. It’s nice to have this blog-thing to brainstorm on. Okay. Three down…or three and a half. “The Freedom In-Between” seems like it could be a good musical song, and it may fit well. Very straightforward. “Time” is even more so…and would work well as well. Five and a half already! Well…now I was just thinking “Sounds of the Morning” and “Questions” were very imagery-laden and wordy songs, but looking at them…they’d make good heartfelt solos. They are kind of alike. Though I guess the only reason I think so is because I wrote them at about the same time. “A Confession” isn’t finished, but it would do for something. This is fun, but now we’re getting into my older depressing stuff. “Forever Winter”…hm…aside from being perfect for a Narnia musical (though no Miss Denmans requested to use it [gee, I wonder why…marketing usually helps]). “Your Own” may be of some good use after all…and “December”. Wow, that’s an interesting song. Not so sure about that. “Leave it at That” is a good musical-type song…if it can be incorporated. I hate “You and Me.” I know it’s Joanna’s favorite song I’ve ever written, but it’s just a musical cliché and I really hate those. But if musical clichés sell, then…whatever. I’ll have to deny myself the pride of writing something ingenious and go for the cash, I guess. So that’s all in that folder. There are a few others I’m working on which may work…well, whatever. Just some stuff to put in my thinker.

After lunch, Elizabeth dropped me off at the pool, where I finally got to spend some time with Elayna. Then…surprise! One of my friends and her mom came to the pool! Marck was a little disappointed because the two brothers in that family couldn’t come. They had come straight from shopping or something, so my friend had to swim in some clothes which dragged a whole lot, but it was all okay. We went diving down to the bottom of the diving pool, and I helped her on her dive and her butterfly. She says my butterfly is as pretty as ballet, and I’m like a graceful serpent moving through the water…*sniffle* *sniffle* *tear*…how…nice…*sniff*. She actually said “snake”, but “serpent” sounds much more romantic, don’t you think?

After Elayna left, my aunt stopped by the pool, and came over to our house afterwards. Haylea shared some brownies with me, and Charlie informed me that he was going to college in Tennessee. EVERYBODY IS GOING TO TENNESSEE. Jeffrey, Micah, and now Charlie. Wonderful. Well, it is nice there. I’d go live there, out in the country somewhere. And I remember there was this really cool science museum in Chattanooga. That’s such a weird name. Weirder than Kalamazoo. I think Raleigh, Cary, Apex, Durham, Knightdale, Zebulon, Wake Forest, and Chapel Hill are very elegant names.

The song in my head right now is “Annie Waits” by Ben Folds. I like that song, FYI.

So, it’s sad. The last thing for summer swim team is this Tuesday. Water polo playoffs, the fun meet, and the awards banquet. Then it’s done. Finished. I’m going to start crying (again)…I hope…oh, yeah. I already talked about this, didn’t I? Well, gee. Maybe I should stop thinking about the end of swim team so much. FOCUS, Jessica. There’s things to be done around here, like…like…AHHHHHHH!!! I am about to GO CRAZY!!! Do you understand what I mean? When you just get a sudden inspiration to get SOMETHING done RIGHT NOW…when you literally get all twitchy and feel like if you don’t do something, for heaven’s sake, you’ll just go absolutely insane and start running around the back yard in a panicked manner, pulling your hair out and stamping it into the ground? That last sentence was actually taken from a dialogue in a book I’m writing…but taken from real life experience originally, anyways. So there. Don’t you ever feel like that? I feel like that approximately every two weeks or so. It is kind of annoying, because it causes me to stay up late even when I need to wake up early the next morning.

I am wondering right now why I am not feeling a giant pang of jealousy, having been informed about a certain person doing something else with a certain other person which this certain person would have rather been doing with one of those said certain people but not the other certain person around. Whichever certain person is excluded except for this certain person, this certain person certainly doesn’t care and hopes those certain persons certainly don’t take this personally. Another certain person may know what this certain person is talking about…but should certainly keep his or her mouth shut, because this certain person should stop talking about this, even though she feels like keeping on. This certain person can sigh all she wants to, and wonder all she wants to, but it’s not going to solve anything, and this certain person says that perhaps the other two certain people simply were certainly not doing anything pertaining to anything which this certain person would rather…oh, never mind. UGH-ness-icity. This certain person is having an attitude and denying everything.

I am not!!!

Hm.

So to end on a more flavorful note, I was thinking about something I cannot remember. Hey, you want another clip from my book? Let me go find something really quickly. Okay, here goes. Try to see if you can guess the inspiration for the following passage:

Jacob and I followed, stopping in the den. While the walls still had dark wood paneling, the shag carpet had obviously been pulled up and replaced with nice, fluffy cream colored carpet. I glanced around, feeling a bit out of place, especially when my eyes fell upon a person who could only have been who Mrs. Madison had indicated was talking to two girls—Jack Madison.

I was instantly enthralled. There was something about his face. It was so average, but stood out somehow. Maybe it was that it was so averaged, and therefore quite perfect. What made it even more perfect was the thick, smooth chin-length light brown hair which framed the perfectly average face. As he sat talking, he moved in a very animated sort of way, and as he did, his hair moved very animatedly with him. I could only seem to think in my head for that moment when
I first laid eyes on him, “Wow, look at his hair…it goes, swish-swish…”

A moment later he looked up, very intently with his animated, yet fixated and stern-like gray eyes, and as he greeted Jacob excitedly I began to feel very shallow for allowing such meaningless thoughts as ones about the movement of a guy’s hair. “Hey, Jake, what’s been happening?”

So, that’s it for now! Sorry to keep you all in suspense about what happens between…well, never mind. You all certainly will not ever know “what’s been happening” with Jacob, now, will you?

Later!
--Jessica

The Seahawks Camping Adventure Part 2

Dawn.

That's like, the start of some book or something, isn't it? Or...no. It's the start of some story some girl wrote in this writer's group I used to be in before EVERYTHING decided to take place on Wednesday nights. Sorry I took that. I mean, it WAS dawn. I guess. I wouldn't know, because it was a might bit cloudy. Nonetheless I forced myself out of my sleeping bag eventually. I didn't want to get up at first because I didn't want to wake anyone else up by exiting the tent, but once I got out that didn't seem a problem, because no one else showed their face till twenty minutes later. I had taken my journal out with me with the full intentions to write down by the shore of the lake. But once I set foot outside the tent, I regretted getting out of my warm sleeping bag. It was freezing outside. At least, to a little, very cold-natured person like me, it seemed like it. I thought I would just sit in one of the chairs around the fire pit for a moment and then go down, but it seemed after a while I was rather stuck to the chair. "Well," I thought, "I'll make it down there tomorrow, perhaps."

I believe what was supposed to be a journal entry about the beautiful environment turned into something more of a reflection about something I cannot remember, and then I began to write about the sounds around me...the crows, the ducks, the bird's songs, the hum of RVs. It seemed as if the Seahawks and all associated beings (namely Marck and Mr. M) were practically the only rustic people around, or at least on that particular campsite. It makes me wonder...what's the point of camping if you're in a house on wheels? And can you really call it camping? I think camping is radical (as Mr. F/Coach [same person, fyi] was saying what it meant last Wednesday), and RV camping is NOT radical. It is probably fun, but not as much fun as REAL camping.

As I said before, 20 minutes later I was joined by some members from my tent, Lizzie and Sarah. We wondered why Rachel hadn't gotten up yet, but then figured it probably took her a while to go to sleep. So we sat there talking in hushed voices and being cold, before we all concluded we were starving and needed to get inside the suburban to get to all the food. Lizzie (yes, that's a link back there...on "Lizzie", to be exact) went into detail about that, so basically once we got in, we stuck our store bought Starbucks frappeccinos (sp?) in the cooler, ate some yogurt, and as other people got up, we began a game of Apples to Apples. By the time all the adults got up, practically everyone was playing. I mean, all the kids. I believe by the time we were done, we had exhausted all our red cards, or nearly so, and I think that's why we stopped. Then Nathan, Rachel, Lizzie and I resumed our game of hearts over some coffee. There was a bit of a dispute over whether the younger members of the camping party (anybody 13 and under, or anybody "not a 15-18 swimmer") should get to have coffee, especially special coffee. They had no need to wake up in the morning, they just wanted it because it tasted very sugary. Anyhoo, then there was a dispute about people being left out of hearts, so everyone got coffee and no one played hearts. Instead, I went to go wash up, and when I came back, everyone was eating pancakes!

I don't know how that all happened, because I don't recall being gone for that long, but it seemed like everyone was already in the possession of a pancake, wolfing it down, and going for seconds. Mrs. M was slaving away at the camp stove (can't be so rustic as to cook pancakes in a cast iron skillet over an open fire, I guess...). I went up with a plate and got some bacon Sarah had cooked, and a little pancake. I buttered it, and tried to pour the syrup over it (I say "sehr-up", not "seeur-ip"), but only a few drops came out. I suppose I should declare the news: Seahawks swimmers are now officially notorious syrup hogs. Sorry to say it, but it's quite true.
I at that pancake and went back to get one more small pancake. They were delicious, for the record. If you're going camping with someone who makes pancakes, go with Mrs. M. They are simply succulent and delightful. Bring extra syrup, though.

Nathan and Rachel's mom, dad, and sister, Hannah arrived after a while, and it was then decided that we should all put on swim suits and head down to the water. Marck and I had brought our little $10 Target volley ball especially for a big, unstructured game of water polo. The Seahawks are very big on water polo, by the way. So it became keep-away water polo with no goals, which was fun for a while, till we all got tired and got on floaties. Nathan and I got these two special floaties and named ourselves king and queen over the waters, and the ball was our royal ball of power. Joel was our faithful knight on his noble steed (a light green floaty), who was temporarily banished from the kingdom for accidentally handing over the ball to the enemy. He came back thought, and Nathan and I tried to arrange a game of Floaty Polo, but that fell through, really. The moms seemed to take to the idea for a while, though. I believe Mrs. H would start a Floaty Polo league if given the chance.

After about an hour and 45 minutes of swimming, Lizzie, Marck, Nathan, Joel and I decided we were hungry again. So we went back up to the campsite to eat some leftover hotdogs, potato salad, slaw, and macaroni salad. I was a bit disappointed that everyone seemed to take to the "Southern Style" potato salad more than the "American" potato salad the night before. Yes, my first thought was...isn't the South part of America? Even when we were the Confederate states, we were still in America. So really it should have been called "Yankee Style" potato salad. I didn't even know potato salad existed outside of the South anyway, like iced tea or barbecue. Okay, well, a little discovery has been made by yours truly. They DO, in fact, make potato salad, iced tea and barbecue outside of states considered "Southern." BUT...there's a catch. They don't do it right. They can't. It doesn't taste, look, or feel like it should. It is wrong.

So what was left of the "Southern Style" potato salad (which was yellow...thank goodness) was piled on top of the nearly full tub of the "American" potato salad, and I managed to scrape the last few bits off the top, while only getting a little of the American style. By the way, I might as well go and mention that store bought "Southern Style" potato salad STILL doesn't taste exactly right, because it's really made by those Americans over there, with their wrong potato salad and wrong iced tea and wrong barbecue. Gosh darn it, they can't do anything right!!!

Well, enough about potato salad. I believe I've had my say in THAT matter...anyway, Nathan and I got dressed because we figured we wouldn't want to go swimming again till four or five. Plus, I reasoned, if Matt, Kara, Sean, Rachel, Trissa, Torin, Coach, and Mrs. F did actually end up coming at some point of the day, I didn't want to be all swam out, because surely they would want to get in the water for a while. So we played Skip-Bo (or whatever that game is called), and I believe somehow that was when I first met Bubba the Italian Mob Trucker. You see, Joel is a Todd in the making (yes, that's a compliment...). I mean that by how he does voices and makes up characters with names to go with them. He has Lenny...and now Bubba. Lizzie explains a bit about that on her blog as well, considering she is a very proud big sister of this improv comedian in the making. :P

After lounging around a bit and playing a lot of Taboo (my kind of game!!), we went down to the water and sat on the edge. Lizzie and I talked about how it was late, and the F's probably weren't going to come. We sighed and frowned for a while, before Lizzie had the sudden inspiration to go ask at the Marina if they rented jet skis. She and I walked back up to gather passengers. Nathan and I almost convinced his parents to let me drive his dad's BMW, but alas, no. So we had to settle for my minivan. Nathan, Lizzie, Sarah and Joel came. We parked in 5 minute parking and went inside to the little store, where somehow a Snickers bar came into my line of sight and I simply HAD to buy it. I told Lizzie she'd better ask quickly, but she wasn't feeling like being outgoing or something (...homeschooler...), so I asked the lady at the front counter when I purchased my irresistible treat. She said they didn't even have jet skis there, much less for rental. That was rather disheartening. Anyway, after that we rode up to the gas station and looked for Aloe for our poor sunburns. No such luck, but Joel tried on all the sunglasses, Nathan discovered he wears aviators very well, and I suggested we should buy more marshmallows in case we ran out before the night was through. Everyone thought that was a very unrealistic fear, so we went back without the marshmallows. When we arrived back at the campsite...it was time for dinner!

More hotdogs.

Well, the kids fixed themselves hotdogs, as I believe we should put it, and after that was all done, the adults came up (finally THEY were hungry...) and said, "Oh, yeah...we have hamburgers and salmon burgers, by the way." By that time, I was full of more hotdogs and more American potato salad, so Alec and I decided we would split one later.

After a while it started to rain, so we all sat under the canopy that was the J's but looked like the absent Y's canopy from the meets last year, and we played "Mafia." One of those Seahawks traditions...Mafia in the rain. After the rain died away, Lizzie and I were able to go down to the shore of the lake, sit on the fallen trees and watch the sunset. We talked about many things, and we definitely agreed that if both of us didn't marry, then we'd have to get a house on a lake together, with lots of boats and a couple jet skis, and then go out every morning on kayaks, go sailing in the afternoon and jet skiing in the evening, with lots of swimming in between (for we would have a 25 yard pool in the back yard, of course), and do yoga after breakfast and fun things like that. Money didn't really enter the conversation. I suppose we could babysit for all our siblings and friends who got married and had children, and get money that way...still, I would like to get married someday.

When we got back, after the last purple stroke on the canvas of the horizon faded away to black, we discovered, to our horror, my worst nightmare had come true. There were only two marshmallows left. Lizzie got one, I got one, and we each got one s'more. Lizzie, I hope, repented from her evil ways and now will go with my instinct when I say we should really trust it.
I managed to get very sticky AGAIN. We played Twenty-Plus Questions for a long while. I even guessed, and got Mr. J's when he was doing "Idea." I felt very proud of myself. I usually just sit and listen...not my kind of game, really. So I did "Music" and after a while Alec guessed it... :) Then we split our hamburger, and after a while we all got sleepy and we went to bed. Rachel was a bit upset that it was even earlier than the night before.......

--Jessica

Real quickly here...

I have decided officially to write a post detailing a day in my life and holding absolutely no significance except that it, like I said, details a day in my life...

Wednesday, May 14th, 2008:

I woke up a little after seven, and was not hungry because the night before we had gone to Outback and I ate a lot. SEW I put stamps on envelopes instead, in preparation for the graduation of...there I go again with the rhyming, dang it. After some of this, I got ready for my dad to take some pictures of me to send out with the graduation announcements (yay...you know, I hate having my picture taken. I never ever want to be a model). They turned out real nicely, somehow. I picked one and edited it a bit. Stacey texted me about swim and I responded back...

I snarfed down a banana, some strawberries, squash caserole and potato salad before throwing my stuff in my swim bag (come to think of it...I need to take it out. Yuck) and jumping into the van so we could go pick up Hannah and Noah and proceed to TAC for swim practice, and immediately afterwards, water polo practice. We played boys against girls again and...*sniff* we lost 10-13, I believe was the score. And Noah's going to gloat forevermore that the win was all because of him. I say bah, humbug.

Allison showed up and cheered on the girls, which was nice. Then we all (Lizzie, Sarah, Allison, Victoria and Mrs. H) got in their suburban and drove back to their house so we could leave again for Sarah's flute lesson after Victoria's mom picked her up. The flute lesson was cool, and we all decided Sarah is amazing because she composed a flute duet without any help from Lizzie on the piano...how in the world...?

After that excursion, we went back to their house where we put on makeup, played the piano, ate hotdogs, and...guess what? Left again for Radical Wednesday. We stood around and talked a bit, then all five girls (Kara, Allison, Sarah, Lizzie and me) sat on the blue jean couch to watch the Waco film. What was surprising was that we weren't squished with our hips (as you would expect from girls, I guess) but our shoulders were all too broad (too much swimming?), and it was a bit uncomfortable, but fun anyways.

After the film I ate the cupcakes that Rachel J bought, even though I specifically requested she make them. Then, I was going to play my new song for Allison, but apparently she was too busy talking to Nathan, so Rachel J insisted that she hear it, so I played it for her and then she insisted that I become famous. I said no, thanks anyway.

After that, Nathan, Rachel and I hopped in the Beamer with Mr. J and drove to my house, while Rachel and I had long, lovely conversations about going South-West or whatever. I got home, talked to Chris and Allison more, got ready for bed, got in bed, told them I was going to bed and goodnight, and then fell asleep. I slept very lightly because I had the smart idea to sleep with my window open and with shorts on. Pure genius in the making, I tell you!

So, that was my day. Thank you for reading it, I'm sure that if you took part in my day it was somehow more entertaining to you than if you didn't, which is why I don't write these sorts of entries. But that's okay, might as well do one once in my life, even if just to say I don't want to do it again... *huff* *sigh* *faints of exhaustion*

~Jessica

Baggy Sweatpants...

Sorry the last post ended so abruptly and without any real meaning, guys. It had almost everything to do with my absent minded self. You see, I was in the library at Wake Tech. We had gotten out of class fifteen minutes early and had fifteen more minutes after that till it was time for the test prep study session thing. So, I thought, this would be a good time to write a blog. But when I got on blogger, I really wanted to read what all my friends had written before I started a blog. So I went down my blog roll and did my reading and commenting and the like, and that took about twenty minutes. It was ten till eleven and I then sat around for about three minutes wondering what to do with all that extra time. 10:53, and I remembered I wanted to write a blog. DARN IT. So I only had seven minutes before I had to dash out the door back to the classroom, only to find out they had started without me. Um...it's all Chris's (Chris'?) fault. He kept insisting on reading over my shoulder. You know I can't concentrate on anything when people are reading over my shoulder!

So I don't know what to write about again. I don't know what happened. I mean, I like blogging. It used to be I'd have all these amazing ideas for things to blog about. But now I can't think of anything useful or insightful or interesting to say. My mind has drawn a blank, and I'm thinking about going to rehab to re-become an un-boring person. A long and treacherous journey I assure you. So sad for me.

I think there was talk a couple years ago of some friend of a friend going to some special rehab on a pirate ship for a most unfortunate sock obsession, though I cannot recall where that came from. It seems these days every celebrity wants to hang out at the local rehab resort. It must be nice there. Once I watched 28 Days (Sandra Bullock, Viggo Mortensen), and that was interesting enough. Almost inspired me to go to rehab. I always am affected by movies that way. It's kind of sad, actually. That is, me being affected by movies about going to rehab in a way that makes me want to go to rehab. If you're like me, don't watch that movie. Just go be in one, and it will satisfy you enough.

I meant to wake up at five thirty this morning, because I had a music exam at seven, but I really didn't have to be here or there or wherever I am or was till eight, because there were some makeup oral presentations by the slackers who didn't show up on the days they signed up to present...I am not a slacker. This is nice information. But you see, last night I was listening to the 25 pieces I had to kind of know by heart and associate with the titles and composers, and didn't get all that done by the time I meant to go to sleep. So I turned the music down really low and determined I would just absorb it in my sleep. Of course, when I have my clock/CD player on "CD" setting, the alarm will go off with the first track of the CD. But the music was turned down so low, that I didn't hear it till 6:15 and the thirty-eighth track, a particularly loud part of the Afro-American Symphony. So if I look like I just rolled out of bed, ate breakfast and came to class, that's pretty darn accurate. Fortunately my hair didn't get too messed up while I was sleeping (for a change). But I think I smell funny. Like day-old-dry-yucky chlorine. Blah.

In other news, Comedy Cafe is this weekend. 12621 Strickland Road in Raleigh, 4:00 matinee Saturday and Saturday evening, 7:30. It should be fun, it always is. :) Um...lesse...I will be taking a shower before going to the audition. What a nice first impression it would make if I didn't. There's something wrong with the skin under my eye. It's red and itchy, except after I swim and for a while after that. I think the chlorine dries it out.

Water polo was fantastic yesterday. I think it was the best game we've ever played. The teams were perfect, and I think it was close to a very high-score tie of some sort. I don't know, I don't keep track of that score stuff. I don't know how Coach does either, considering he sometimes has a problem forgetting and leaving his own family members at various locations...when I'm riding with him, I have to keep either him or his van in sight at all times to make sure I'm not left behind. Hey, we could write another series of books about being left behind by our swim Coach! They would be best sellers for sure.

Well, other than that, I don't seem to have anything extra amazing to talk about. Nothing controversial, nothing amusing. That's alright, though. I'll just leave you all with these concluding thoughts:

Gee, I'm drawing a blank. Okay, seriously. I've been thinking a lot about...*insert interesting blurb here.* Obviously I haven't been thinking at all. My head is full of air. Or things about madrigals and fugues and the like. Well, I have been thinking of ways to make money, because my computer has blown up, and I would really like to have a laptop. Also, if I'm going to have a job one of these days, and be going to school and stuff, a car would be very nice. But I'll be swimming this summer, and so I will only have the weekends off. Then there's Comedy Cafe. I'm just convinced that no one will hire me because I only have a couple of days I can work every week, and then select hours on those days. So, I've determined to get babysitting jobs, work for my dad, and maybe teach a creative writing course in early August or something.

Just brainstorming. I'm sure you're bored to death now. So I shall leave and proceed to go rock out in my car. I have a strange and very guilty obsession with that new song, "Low." Don't tell anybody, and try not to think about it yourself.

Goodbye!
~Jessica

Spring Morning

Some announcements before I get on with the poem:

1. We have adopted a bonzai tree, his name is Edwin.
2. I went to go play water polo Wednesday night with Nathan and Matt, and with all those scary UNC and State people...but it turns out I did all that panicking for nothing.  Everyone was really nice, said I played well, Matt got voted MVP in the first half hour of playing, Nathan told us all about the different good people that were too hard to guard, and other fun things like that.  I can't wait to go back next week!

3. Um...well, I wrote a rough draft that I thought was due today. I stayed up till midnight stressing over it, and then woke up @ five to try and do a little more before I had to get ready to go to music.  And it turns out it wasn't even due!!! I was very angry.

So...

Here we go:

Spring Morning

Looking off to the east
I wait for it to come
And I curse the fog
That settles in and ruins my day.
But I know somehow it’s beautiful
Somehow the moss still grows
And looks up towards the sky.
I don’t understand how
Nobody knows why I only
Want to sit outside and
Watch the sunrise
Feel the cool breeze on my bare
Skin and wonder why they think
That I am crazy when
I say I love to breathe in the
Fresh smell of spring and
Remind myself that God placed
Me here and gave me this
Moment to remind me that
I am happy just to be alive
Right here and right now.