Happy Halloween everyone!
And a Happy Samhain and New Year to all you sexy pagans out there.

Hope everyone has some tasty rituals planned.

        

Driving in the car today, my CD player played for me:

Dave Matthews Band - Where Are You Going?
Reel Big Fish - Where Have You Been?
M. Doughty - Where Have You Gone?

I'm waiting for someone to write a song titled "Where Will You Be Tomorrow After 4:30?"

I love you.

No, scratch that.

I don't love you. But I do have inklings of attraction for you.

Maybe inklings is a bit too strong of a word.

You're interesting to interact with at the very least.

Then again, interaction of this kind can get pretty dull.

Well at least I don't hate you. That has to be something.

Yeah, maybe.

"These apples are delicious."
"As a matter of fact, they are, " she said.
"Can all this fruit be free?"
Barenaked Ladies - These Apples

Sometimes I feel like I tend to my little of garden of Eden only to tear it down. Yeah, you know what I mean. Try the apples, says my subconscious mind. The little bitch of my id and ego. And I agree. I pluck them off and take bigger bites than I should just to feel the juices run and watch it all fall. Maybe it's not so much a masochism as it is a need for disaster.

I like my little chaos. So I eat the apples.
Bring it on, angry deity in the sky.

What did I do with that hour I got to relive this weekend when the clocks were turned back? How did I recapture the sixty minutes lost and returned to me by the collective linear hands of time?

I sat here. Staring into the screen, listening to the rain, and wondering, "What to think of..."

I feel robbed.

Something to ponder in the dark:
When the universe collapses in on itself, what will be surrounding it?

God I hate conservatives. Have I said that before?

Oh I have? Good.

One of the saddest things is never receiving mail. And I'm not talking about email/spam/forwarded crap (though legitimate conversational email is lovely). I'm talking about low-down dirty hand-written mail. There's nothing more satisfying then seeing a surprise note in your mailbox that just overpowers the bills and coupons, sitting right there on top of it all with your name neatly written front and center. It's a validation. It says, "Someone thinks you're worthy of the price of a stamp, envelope, and all the time it takes to scrawl something out." And that's nice.

{Yeah, I know I sound like the worst kind of cheesy, but this is, in fact, a thinly veiled attempt to get friends and family to send me mail. You know you want to. Come on. It'll make us both happy.}

The lights came back on with that muffled rush of sound like the sound of a moose breathing in your ear, and only then did we realize what was going on. The corn dogs were gone, Johnny was naked, and the cat had been spray-painted orange.

"Well, damn," Johnny drawled in the tense moment of silence, "This is the best damn party I've been to in a while."

Katie rushed out of the room crying into her hands, and I'll I could think to do was hit power on the stereo and let Ben Folds break the quiet.

Ugh. The world sucks.
Time for a cute kitty picture? Okay. Have at it.



There you go. My solution to war and strife.

{Jenny grins proudly and enjoys a package of Smarties.}

"Wish-I-Were-A-Tree-Huggin'-Hippie" fact from Sierra Magazine:

"If you replaced your Ford Excursion with a Honda Insight, over its lifetime you'd save $11,000 on gas and produce 107 fewer tons of CO2."

SUV-driving assholes. Yeah, you know who you are, you elitist, pretentious, self-centered fucks. Why don't you save some of that money you spend trying to impress your gated community neighbors and use it to enroll in a class about limited natural resources and ozone depletion.

Wow. Pent-up anger. Calm down, Jenny.

We've all seen the mugshot of the mundanely named John Allen Williams/Muhammed. Now take a look at the FBI's most wanted.

At the risk of rehashing something I've discussed with someone before... (My memory is like a bottomless pit... many things go in, nothing comes back out... so who knows what I've discussed before? Not me.) Do we see a pattern developing in criminals? No? Take another look.

Yep, you got it. They're (for the most part) horrendous looking individuals.

...Which begs the question: Does crime lead to ugliness or does ugliness lead to crime? Hmmm.

Yeah, we push the unpretty to the outside and say "No, not you." It's no wonder they decide to turn that hatred around and violently avenge themselves for the place genetics has thrown at them in society. Not to mention the fact that the "pretty" are much more likely to land jobs. No job, no money, no options.

I'm not saying that the wealthy and plastic-surgery-enhanced are exemplars of good behavior. They just get away with their crimes. Who wants to fault a fabulous face? (God, it pains me to say that.) But as Jim Chandler says, "Ugly people have two strikes against them in court. Jurors look at ugly people and think, that bastard looks like a criminal." Crime equals ugly, and ugly equals crime.

Obviously, this is all just the most basic generalization, but without doing research myself, I'd be willing to put money down on the idea that people deemed by society as unattractive are much more likely to commit crime. It's all in the way the world responds to you...

The only really scary thing about this Halloween website is the Jeb Bush endorsement at the very top. Oh my God... I can barely look at it.

On the menu for tonight: A tasty entree by way of Jimmy D.
I am better than your kids.

Chew on that.

My subconscious mind tells me that the serial sniper is just misunderstood.
My subconscious mind has problems.

In a lengthy, involved dream last night, my family and friends and I were brought in by the police to befriend and house a suspect believed to be the shooter. As I got to know him, howver, the less I wanted to give him up to the authorities. I felt more like he was a naughty puppy who was still learning rights and wrongs.

"You know that evil, creepy feeling you get just by looking at pictures of serial killers?" I asked a coworker. "He doesn't have that. I mean, I know that he's done it..." {while in the next room he was strapping dynamite to himself to get onto a bus with} "...But I just don't think he's evil. Maybe he's just misunderstood."

What is wrong with my head?

Oh, and Tony tells me that I was making a clicking noise last night.
I have issues. Yes. I do.
Sigh.

Something so soft about 2AM curled up in headphones...
I'm just lost in a lullabye song.
Warm kitten at my foot and the slow hum of the computer.
Guitar notes swim in my ears.
And my skin is tired from a busy day.
Dreaming in the dark, I have someone waiting for me.
And that's the best part of all.

"2 more months.... 2 more months.... 2 more months...."

{Sorry, just have to keep repeating that to myself so that school doesn't drive me insane.}

"2 more months.... 2 more months.... 2 more months...."

"Are you waiting for a moment to leave?"

Everyone who's ever really connected with another person on a genuinely deep level - raise your hand. It seems all we do is criticize and nitpick and peck away at each other's dressed-up flesh. Where did sincerity go? Why can't we let go of this egotistical intellectualism?

Aren't we all so smart?
And also so alone.

We push each other away because today the other's not so witty.

{She paused for a moment, searching for just the right word to capture self-involved pseudo-intelligence, and then she realized that every time she used pseudo as a prefix, a small part of her died.}

I just want a night at eye-level with truthfulness and sincerity. I want to snuggle with the down-to-earth, right there on the ground looking at our feet and holding hands.

Maybe we've gotten too old for that. But you know, I keep hoping...

"I can't do anything but fall."
Frente

I get these really sad days.

For some small reason or another, something gets triggered in my mundane little mind, and for the rest of the day, everyone's ignoring me, or everyone's out to get me, and in no way whatsoever am I worthy of anything.

This is one of those days.

Maybe no amount of emotional coddling would help, but that's all I'm aching for. And in the absence of any signs of concern from oher people, I feel like I might as well hop into a warm bath and play with sharp objects.

Well... no. I'm not that melodramatic.

But even the fact that I'm not that dramatic reminds me of how boring I am, and the whole thing starts again.

Fuck.

I'll stop boring you now.

And now it's time for a little weather talk.
It's a lovely 83 degrees and sunny outside. No sign of rain anywhere on the horizon.

Ever think you're the only one who gives a damn about anything else?

You're not.
Everyone does.
No one is unique.

So just sit back, shut up, and soak up some sun.

Time: Irrelevant. As always.
Accomplishing: Another enthralling night of time wasting
Webcam Pointed At: The fabulous new apartment kitchen. Sexy, no?
Craving: Chinese food, hardcore. Sadly, I've already spent all the money I was allowed on Halloween decorations.
Hearing: "I could be so jealous of someone like me..."
Big Find Of The Day: A hideous circa-60's cream-colored sweater/skirt combo at the big annual community yard sale.
Five Seconds Ago: Scared the cat by waving at him. Heh.
Digging On: The orange Halloween lights we hung up this afternoon, softly glowing on a black strand, draped over the window and making the living room breath with color.
Thinking: At some point or another I need to come up with at least a fictional answer to the question I get asked ad nauseam: "So, what are you going to do after you graduate?" Maybe I'll start saying something like, "Well, I've been looking into the field of biochemical research in regard to the effect of chlorophyll on the human genome in a nitrogen atmosphere." Hmm... Yeah, that'll work.

{Finger and thumb thrown up 1.5" from each other}

I was this close to just dropping the shoe on it.
But we all know the sad sound of that sickly crunch.

Not so much mercy as selfish auditory choices.

The seventh alphabetized file folder was in place and labelled appropriately, and then it hit me. It's possible that there is way too much control in my life. Every last little dime and receipt gets set aside and prepared for... something. Do people actually live their lives without a folder for credit card receipts? Would it kill me to loosen the leash of perpetual anxiety?

I've never lived a day of my life without thinking of some kind of consequence.
Maybe I'm insane.

Maybe one day, I'll just fly off it and burn the folders and spend the money and run naked down the street to join some protest group.

{sigh}

Yeah, that'll happen.

I have a rare moment to spend with my estranged computer. [As a sidenote, it looks like we might be able to lug it over to the apartment before this weekend. Yay!]

A few notes on what Jenny has learned so far from apartment living:

1) Children suck - especially ones that live on upstairs floors and run back and forth at 9:00 PM for no apparent reason whatsoever. {incoherent grumbling.... damn kids.... grrr}

2) After living with three other people for most of your life, long stretches of solitude can really test a dependent person's mental health.

3) Kittens, stupid ones in particular, are incompatible with apartment life.

4) Sleeping with someone every night is great.... But sleeping with someone every night and having violent nightmares that wake you up with fists flailing into the other person is not so great.

5) And finally, why is everything so goddamned expensive?

Ah well. So far, it still feels like we're staying at some nice hotel, and sooner or later we'll pack everything up and head back home. But that's probably because my computer still isn't there....

Well, I'm off to do some essay writing for a few hours. Until next time, boys and girls.

"...And as long as it's talking with you, talk of the weather will do."
Built To Spill

...And tomorrow is the day.
Moving day.

Which also means that I'll be without my computer until we get both a new computer desk and an internet connection.

I really don't know how I'll survive that... but I'll be brave.

(sigh)
This has been one tremendously tiring week.
Time for sleep.

I'll see you when the dust settles.

Do you ever look around at other people and think, "Boy am I out of my league"? Read the words of others and think, "Damn, I'm a toddler compared to this guy"?

I do.
I just hope I'm not the only one.