XO... Jen

It's cold out here. Cold, okay? I'm thinking about my Mellow Yellow fingernails and my Air blue toenails while sitting on the deck with the tiki torches lit and drinking Golden Monkey and chain smoking.

Babies, I've seen a new therapist for two sessions. Babies, I've been reading xoJane like it's my new Jezebel because it is. Cat's back. No, I'm not going to start one of my "I don't understand the ladies" rants... as easy as that might be.

What was I going to start? (Are you my lady doctor, "my lady"?) I had the horrible realization today, while talking with her, that I've been here before. I think she likes me, for the usual reasons: I'm smart, I get it... But I don't. That's why I'm there. I know. But I don't. It's the same old song and dance. Me me me me me. The same me from 2005. The same me from 1999. The same me who knows what to do but is too afraid to do it.

I was sitting there today thinking, "HELP ME", knowing the whole time that only I can help myself. So I listed off my 4 main reasons for being there and she said something like, "well, you're here to make yourself stronger, so you can make these changes." We've talked about all 4 of my issues in two 50-minute sessions. Now what?

Stare off into space.

That's how I talk about important things. Staring off into space.

"Does [this happen]?"
"... No ..."
"Does [that happen]?"
"... No ... Eh. No. Not really."

Hmm. I get the feeling she wants drama. I tend to downplay things. Yet dream the drama.

"Yes."
"No."
"Yes!"
"No!"

It's not that.

Two nights a week. "Two."

"Do you think you could commit to only [doing this thing] twice a week?"
"I could..."
"Will you?"
"I will."

Knowing I was lying the whole time.

"We should keep you broke."
"Ha, ha... ha."

"You should write about it." Journaling she said. Fuck me. I do. And it's always the same thing, over and over again.
"Bring it," she said.

She just found the key to my heart.

Oh, I will. I will bring it, sister.

Hey Boy

"Gender is futile"  -AMH III

So. This has been in my head a lot lately:

I don't know why. It's just there. Probably because I feel like I've been fucking up a lot lately. Like a boy. And I'm emotionally like a boy. My head is like a boy. Without getting into too much detail... let's just say that I'm more a boy. In some situations.

I wrote that last night when I was a little drunk. I realize now that this is not going to make any sense since I don't really relate to this (or any) Beyoncé song. It's not about the song. Though it is true that that song is in my head a lot, it comes up on my iPod a lot. And it is true that I think I behave more like a man in some situations than a woman. I'm talking about stereotypes, obviously.

...

I can't recapture what I was thinking last night.

I can tell you that around 2am, while watching The Lost Boys in bed, I suddenly decided I wanted a pickle. But I wanted more than just a pickle. I wanted a pickle wrapped in ham. So that's what I got. I wrapped a pickle in ham and ate it in bed. While watching The Lost Boys.

So anyway, I've always hated gender stereotypes being applied to me but I'm more than happy to apply them to others. Girls, specifically. Because girls are stupid and mean and constantly judging you and absolutely-under-no-circumstances are they to be trusted. Am I right? Yes, that was a joke. Sort of. I've always hated it when groups break up into boys and girls, I think I hate sex segregation even more than I hate gender stereotypes. I freak the fuck out when I'm left alone with women. All though I'm getting better at dealing with this, I still feel more comfortable around guys.

I think I'm getting worse at writing. I don't really do much of it anymore. I don't really do much of anything anymore except look at porn and pictures of dead bodies on Tumblr. It's gotten to the point where it's almost like I don't even see it anymore, I certainly don't feel anything when I do. Totally desensitized. But what I was saying, about writing:

I pulled the tub that has all my old gurnels up two flights of stairs the other day, after falling on my ass while trying to lift it, because I was looking for copies of this zine I did back in 2000-2001. There were only three issues before I lost interest. Of course. They should make losing interest in things an occupation, I would be sooo good at that. Like, here, be intensely interested in this thing for a couple months and then you can move onto something else. It was called, unsurprisingly, Ghola. And they are terrible! The writing is atrocious. Worse than this blog, if you can believe that. The sad thing is that it's that way on purpose. I write like an idiot on purpose. Because I think it's cool.      

All right, I should get to work. If you read all of this guess what? I think you're cool.

Fok Julle Naaiers

Monday: I feel like I need to write but I don't know what about. This is how I start. If I start from "I don't know" I can usually find a destination. I'm tired. I'm always tired. I will sleep 14 hours in a row if given the opportunity. And still be tired. It's my rock-n-roll lifestyle. Guh.

There's a tree in my living room. A god damn christmas tree. If I weren't so lazy I'd show you a picture of it. It's white. Sunday. I made a pot roast. POT ROAST. Goat cheese & sage mashed potatoes. And polenta. Allen made cookies.

I think we're going Kindle for xmas. Why not? Maybe it's the tv commercials that are pushing us that direction. Whatever, white people.

I've got stuff to think about. A lot of stuff. I tend not to think about anything and that could be dangerous for my future health. I already have a bad memory. Alzheimer's, here I come! The problem is, the stuff I need to think about isn't stuff I can write about here. It's "personal", it's "private". But it's the usual stuff: life, love, friendship.

I spend a shitastic amount of time on Tumblr these days, dodging the porn tumblrs I follow (ack! giant cock! ack! women showing off their assholes!), looking for images that inspire me. Maybe it's helping me develop... something. Interest in things? An artistic vision? No. It's mostly reminding me of what it felt like to be a teenager. But they are strangely fond feelings. Maybe because it was the last time I had my own personality. Or something.

I do love being overly dramatic.

Tuesday: Still tired. Twitter's giving me the whale and I've got something VERY IMPORTANT TO SAY!

Ok. I seem to have drowned myself in some gross Michael Kors parfum this morning. Free samps - you never know what you'll get.

This song is taking over my life! And the funny thing is, I find it kind of offensive (really, dropping "faggot" and repeating "I'll fuck you til you love me?" C'mon!) but I can't stop listening to it!


FOK JULLE NAAIERS from Die Antwoord on Vimeo.

Ohmygod! I was just making coffee in el jefe's office and nearly broke all the cups! That would have seriously made me feel like an asshole! Nothing broke. I may have chipped one of the cups, though. Shhh! Don't tell!

Folks are already posting their top 10 songs of 2011 on this blog. It was started at the end of last year by Justin so some sweet dudes could share some sweet music. I'm not even sure I've listened to anything new this year. I've totally fallen off when it comes to music. I think the "old" is setting in! Except for that monstrous song above... Naw, I've got something, enough to come up with 10 songs, anyway, but I think it may be a lot different than last year's mix. 

I've got some tumblring to catch up on!

"Guess what? I'm not a robot."

So I finally downloaded the entire Marina & the Diamonds album, Family Jewels.  I've been listening to a couple songs off this album for months but just now got the whole thing and it's brilliant.  My new favorite thing.

It's 4th of July weekend and I'm hating life.  It's so lonely here.  It's just me and Allen.  Most holidays are like this, especially here, so far away from everyone.  I wish we had friends and/or family to hang out with.  It's soo hot, too, so my plan to get drunk was slowed considerably because it's too hot to drink.

And we keep spending stupid amounts of money on dumb stuff when I want to put it all towards moving but instead I just keep spending it.  We spent $90 on two bags of food at Whole Foods today ($15 on cheese).  We spent about $90 a few days ago on two bags of food at Giant Eagle.  And it's not even stuff you can make a meal out of.  Plus the $225.68 we spent at Ikea yesterday.  I don't deny that we needed four shelves for the absurd amount of DVDs we own and I HAD TO HAVE a salad spinner but that was only $4.  We needed new plates cos the ones we were rockin' were the same one's we've had since we first moved in together in, like, 1997 (or was is 96?).  And we needed another duvet cover that wasn't flannel but was cheap cos Jonesy, bless him, tears up everything and the Sir throws up on the bed every other day.  He's only 10, I can't imagine how needy he's going to be at 14.  Jesus.  It sounds like I'm made out of money.  Guess what?  I'm not.  And there are all those trips we wanted to take.    

I'm busy brainstorming new story ideas for the character that I write about and ideas for blog posts.  Allen's suggested I post a playlist for whoever might read this.  Can't say anyone who reads this would like what I listen to, but who knows.  Trying to think of a new movie-related entry.  I thought I should do another crush list and Allen suggested I do one featuring ladies this time.  I'd tell you my real-time response to this suggestion but you'd think me wicked, I mean offensive.  There's only two ladies on the list so far and I'm not too impressed by either of them.

(Tip: Drinks are more effective if you use a large straw.)

So the above was from Sunday evening.  It's Tuesday morning now and I'm back at work.  The heatwave is on and our poor window unit in the bedroom struggled last night to keep us cool.  Around 8pm it was at least 86 degrees in our living room.  There were some bananas sitting around and it was so hot (how hot was it?) that it smelled like someone was baking banana bread.  That's how hot it was.  I hid in the bedroom and read about 100 pages of this book I picked up from one of the bargain tables at Barnes & Noble:

I LOVE books like this.  I didn't always; I WAS an English major after all.  Then I started writing my own fiction and it turned out to be more like the stuff above so now I try to read more books like this to figure out what works.  

I think I'm going to do a crush post about hot football (soccer) players.  I googled, don't laugh, "football hotties" and found out that quite a few people have already done this.  Not surprised, but I'm not sure I can round up over forty like this person did. We shall soon find out and it sounds like a good way to waste time at work.    

"May you receive the world a little less than usual today."

So I have never really figured out how to build an "internet personality," a real-life one is hard enough.  I have warring factions in my psyche that simultaneously want and reject "followers."  This is actually exactly the same way my real life goes.  I want to have friends but at the same time I can't stand the thought of having to take someone else's feelings into consideration.  And I can't stand lying to "protect someone's feelings."  Fuck 'em.  Actually having real-life "followers" is EXACTLY what I want, just people who idolize me and don't care how I treat them in return.

God.  Listen to me.  I'm trying to find inspiration to be a... person, and I start off by ranting nihilistically.  Next I'll start sharing my thoughts on eugenics.

I want to write.  There, I said it.  Do I want to be a writer?  I haven't gotten that far.  I used to write, pages and pages, I have a tub full of old journals:



And I'm sure they all run a little like this post here.  I don't know, I can't bring myself to ever look at them, other than the pictures.  I used to draw as well as write, it seems.  Then somewhere along the line I lost interest in both.  In most things really.  And I have my theories about why but they are mine and I can not share them with you at this time.  I have people's feelings to take into consideration. 

I initially wanted to blog about music, but then realized that everyone blogs about music, and most of them do it better than I ever could.  So instead I will blog about what I know: me.

Let's see what happens.  If you read this, please choose to follow it, and then tell others to do the same.  This will enable you to find out who has a secret crush on you.  Who knows, it may even be me!