Friday, February 26, 2010

Look this up: Nudiustertian

Changed my profile picture from the random shot of a chocolate bar that I stuck in there when first starting this blog over a year ago to one that I took while in Monterey.

I am thinking about starting another blog, but very different from this one. Sometimes I get really angry or sad about something, and a stream of poetry and prose flows out of my imagination. The little word-bundles are very nice really, but too dramatic and stupid to post here where people who know me in real life can see it. So if you stumble across a blog that maybe uses some pictures you've seen here, or uses language that sounds like me, maybe it is me, indeed.

I saw 500 Days of Summer the other day. Well, half of it. I walked in while my sister was watching it for the billionth time. She'd offered to watch it
with me before, but I'd always said no. Why? When I asked what it was about, I got something along the lines of
Me: "Uhnothanks."
But since I had nothing better to do, I watched what was left of it. Surprise: it was a lovely movie. Not good by any means, but enjoyable to watch. It's a know
n fact that I only like animated movies and those aimed at the six-to-ten-year-old crowd, so to enjoy a movie like this is a big step towards teenagerhood for me.
This completely random and completely hilarious dance number made me laugh for at least a year or two, and I begged we watch it again and again. (To which my sister had no complaints.) I don't know why I was so amused by this scene, but I was. However, I also find food falling in slow motion to be hilarious beyond words in any language, so I don't know if that counts for anything.
I also love this quote, even though I'm not usually into movie quotes so much.(-Nobody likes Ringo Starr.
-That's what I like about him.)
I can really identify with this. I like things that nobody likes, just because I think that somebody should.

I am a vegetarian now. I decided this over the break. My mom and dad are none too happy about this decision, but they are dealing with it. Why? Because for one, meat is sort of disgusting, always has been for me. I saw pork shoulders at the grocery store the other day. Can you imagine a row of dead pigs, with either a machine or a butcher taking a huge blade and hacking out the shoulders, then shrink-wrapping it for sale? Ugh.
Not that I will judge you if you do eat meat.
But also because I have heard too many horror stories about animals being tortured in slaughterhouses. Animals are supposed to be living lives. Actual lives. I don't think any living thing should be in a cramped cage their entire lives under horrible conditions. And if enough people are vegetarians, the demand for meat will go down and less animals will be killed for meat.
Let me put it this way. Imagine thousands of dead cows being stripped out of their skins and being put through a machine that grinds them up and spits them out the other end, now as red squishy hamburger meat.
That's why.

(I could post some really awful pictures I've seen, but I won't to save your eyeballs from melting into their sockets. You're welcome)

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Discover me

Bold the things you like, italic the ones you love but hate:
striped socks
winter vacation
minty breath
warm hands
proving people wrong
steel drums
the sims 2
cloudy weather
picking out presents for people
kevin flamme
old movies
mario party
orange juice
interesting people
late night texting
cool teachers
levi jeans
the city bus
drinking cold water
finding money in my pockets
making connections
bolding surveys
a clean bedroom
meeting people
comfortable positions
packing to go somewhere
burt's bees
actually getting homework done
feeling good about myself
complimenting people
confiding in people
themed things
t shirts
singing harmonies
being surprised
new clothes
long eyelashes
bright eyes
nicely-dressed boys
barack obama
tweezed eyebrows
inside jokes
eye contact
collecting turtles
friendship bracelets
meaningful items
simon & garfunkel
silly pictures
not going to school
reading blogs
showering away problems
worn-in shoes
paranormal television shows
facebook chat
baked ziti
visiting my elementary school
soft blankets
big words
staying up late
second chances
piggy back rides
saying words over and over until they sound really strange
the feeling of relief after going pee
home vidoes
unusual names
diving boards
feeling better
considerate people

Found this on Once Upon A Time.
Feel free to repost on your blog!

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Flies and other little things

Completely unrelated photos^

How long has this "create post" window been sitting here patiently, waiting to be filled with words? Forever at least. Interestingly enough, I have nothing to say.
Scratch that. I have something to say. I hate flies. I think all the flies of the universe have had some worldwide conference thing, during which they decided it would be a wonderful idea to gang up on me. Whenever I enter a room, they all go, "OMG GUYS LOOK IT'S JENNY LET'S ALL ATTACK HER!!!" I think only I can see them, because when I wave my hands in the air in a feeble little attempt to swat them all away, I occasionally notice people glancing over at me. They're probably wondering if I'm having a mild seizure, though they have yet to dial 911. It's really annoying. Flies bug me. HA, HA, HA, HA. I am amazed at my own cleverness. Does anybody get it? Flies are bugs, and they bug me. "Bug" as in "annoy." Actually, more like irritate to the point of feeling an urge to stab somebody with a rusty pitchfork, but that's an elaboration that I really did not have to share with the world.
Anyway, *plunges hands through a thick swarm of flies to reach keyboard* it's kind of odd that I don't like flies, because I really like little things. The purple gems out of pomegranates are my favorite thing to eat, with snowflakes close behind. And my favorite bird is the chickadee, and my favorite flowers are those pretty pink cherry blossoms that grow on trees. My favorite animal is a mouse, the little little kind of mice that you can't see unless you're really looking. Flies are minute insects, so I should be fascinated with them.
Instead, their tiny size just makes them all the more frustrating. The smaller something is, the harder it is to swat.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Candy corn

So, new poll again. But this one doesn't really count for much, because I'm probably not even going to listen to whatever you-all think this blog needs. So far the only vote is for "try to be funny," and buddy, that is not going to happen. I am just not a funny gal.
I don't know, I read back to my eighth-grade posts just now. They were written by a much more energetic and humorous person. Maybe I used to be a funny gal, but people change. Maybe this used to be a good blog, but things change. I don't really mind if nobody reads this, anyway.
Check that. I do mind if somebody reads this. Getting comments on the posts and messages in the chatbox used to make my day. Now I rarely see a sign of life. Not motivating, folks.
Anyway, sorry for seeming so downtrodden yesterday. I was just really frustrated with myself about something. This is certain to be a happier post.

Last night I couldn't sleep. At all. I don't know why, because I'd been exhausted all day. And what do I do when I can't sleep?
I had entirely too much fun with this thing. Even though the "candy-corn smile" did not end up looking like a smile at all.

And how on earth did I obtain giant candy corns in the middle of February, when all citizens of the United States of America are aware that candy corn is only readily available in October, and sometimes the end of September if the grocery stores are a little too eager that season? This is the secret:
On the way to Monterey, we stopped at the Gilroy Outlets, which is a bunch of stores, mostly women's apparel with names like Nine West and Ann Taylor, stuck side by side by side by side. My mother and grandmother spent hours browsing through racks of beige slacks and navy blue button-up sweaters, ribbed cotton tee shirts the color of pond scum and sold-color pencil skirts. It was loads of fun, let me tell you, being surrounded by such exciting variations in clothing.
What I think is that they should just take all the dull clothing from all the stores and make one giant warehouse out of it all. Each store literally sells the exact same thing as the one next to it.
But not the Jelly Belly store!!!!!!
That's where I got the candy corn. They were selling big sacks of it, three sacks for a quarter. Three sacks of stale mellocreme, just twenty-five cents. How could I resist?

Friday, February 19, 2010

Unspeaking things.

I always have so much to say, but the words are locked up in my heart and never find their way out of my mouth. They get stuck halfway up my throat, and I always swallow them back down. My voice is so flimsy and weak, it never says what I want it to. I still hope people understand what I'm trying to convey. They never do.(andrew hefter photography)

Maybe I'm the only one who talks in riddles and never says what I mean. Maybe I'm the only one who makes people decode their conversations with me to get inside my head, the only one who sees secrets in sentences that don't exist. Maybe that's why I often find myself all alone.
And nearly every time that I do say what is on my mind, it's never the right thing to say and I want to unspeak it. It's so easy to say what I feel like saying on my blog, but when I talk to people that matter, my mind whirs a million miles a minute while my lips freeze. Everything I need to say spills through a filter between my brain and my voice, and so little gets through.
Why is it so hard for me to speak?

Jenny, did it hurt to stick all that tape on your face in the first photo?

Yes. But one must make sacrifices for art.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

I am a little starfish and I need the sea to thrive.

Reasons why I love Monterey:



and this,
and especially this.

So. As you might have concluded, and I hope you did, or else you are terribly dim, I have returned from my short venture to Monterey. It was lovely, like it always is. Cold, windy, rocky beaches; that is so fully where I belong. If you can count on one thing to be unquestioningly wonderful, no matter what, why, how, when, or where, it is the sea. The moment I was released from the car, he greeted me with open arms and drew me in and didn't let go for hours.
My mom yelled for getting so soaking wet. The rest of them had gone shopping while I stayed on the beach, and she had expected me to just lounge on the shores for one hundred and eighty minutes while the sea was just sitting there waiting, calling, sending welcoming rays my way. And I couldn't waste time changing into a swimsuit, I only had as long as the shops could entertain them to enjoy the ocean. Who cares if my impatient-ness resulted in waterlogged jeans?
By-the-by, by "them" I mean my grandma, my mom,
my sister:

my cousin:
and my other cousin.
Plus me. Coincidentally, this is the only picture I have of myself, and I edited it up. Oh well.
There's a small beach right next to Cannery Row, where they were off to do their second period of shopping during the evening. My mom didn't want me to get all wet again, because we were going to eat dinner in a restaurant, so she didn't let me hang out there. Even after I promised to not even touch the water, to hold my breath so I wouldn't be able to smell the salty fishiness.
We both knew I would break any vow once I got the damp sand squishing between my toes.

Ugh. I want to go back already. I want to live there. I want to get married on Fisherman's Wharf. I want to die in a little sailboat in the choppy waters off the coast of Monterey. I want to go back there.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Shouting out loud.

It's shout-out day.
I am shouting out to you, and you, and yes, even you. You too, over there. Some of the names are in code, some are nicknames, others are plain and simple, but I'm not going to specify too much.
Are one of these shout-outs... to you? Maybe. Decode and decide.

Again, not all of the images are mine.

To KK,

To Shirley,
To those of you,

To the most obvious cryptic I know,

To my mother,

To myself,

To Amy,I'm sorry for having so many pictures and so little words lately. I just don't have anything much to say.
Also, I am leaving for Monterey TOMORROW, and let's hope I don't stumble through a post while drunk on sea air. Actually, my mother isn't bringing her laptop, so that's not going to happen. I'll post when I get back, maaaaybe, but remember, I'm not the most dependable blogger you know.

or am i?

Sunday, February 14, 2010

To be in love.

Stupid lovey-lovey images, in honor of Valentine's Day. Not all of them are mine, but I don't know who to credit.

I love the idea of being in love, even though I never have been.
I don't think I could fall in love with a person. People are too complicated.
I could fall in love with a pear tree or a blue jay, a square of silk, or a whistling wind. I have fallen in and out of love with the sun a hundred times. He and I, we don't have the healthiest relationship.
But that's another story.
The only people who love me are the ones who have to by laws of nature; my family. There are no geeky boyfriends, no crushes, no hugs and kisses, no 'dating,' no 'relationships,' and there never have been.
And that is just how it should be for me. Sometimes I think I want to delve into that element of life, but I don't. People are too volatile, I've seen too many reputations ruined and hearts broken because of what they call love. Those schoolroom couples don't seem genuine, not a true definition of what I call love.

I think if I go on, I am not going to make a lot of sense. (See first picture.)

On a less whimsical, more down-to-earth, solid-ground note, my family is thinking about taking a little overnight trip to Monterey. We have the entire week off for no particular reason, but free time is filling up fast with softball, movie dates and the like, a hefty school project, and now this possible mini-trip.
I am willing to throw aside that project for a couple days and cancel any plans; I am ecstatic to hear of maybe maybe maybe, a visit to my true love, the sea.
If I ever become beautiful I will give myself to its waters. If I live to be old, I will die on an empty shore. I really hope that this trip happens after all.
Because I really, really love the sea.

You can probably tell I'm in a strange and sprightly mood. I think I need to bottle up now, before I spill any more inky insanity from my mind through my fingertips.

I'm not usually like this, promise. Just let me be crazy for a minute.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Splitting a face in a wonderful place.

Or explode. I don't usually smile that big, you know.

Went on a perilous journey to a creek today. I was already in a good mood when I headed over there, so when I started thrashing through the shrubbery and splashing in the shallow inlets of the water, I felt so buoyant I almost floated away. Good thing I didn't, because it would have been a bummer to miss out on all the fun that ensued.
The creek is lovely, but there isn't much of a story to tell.
A story in pictures today.

Yes, I took pictures of myself, which I am sort of unaccustomed to doing. I was not feeling particularly attractive, but I was feeling particularly happy.
So I pointed a camera at myself...? I don't make sense, even to my own head.
I have TONS more pictures, but I'm saving them for later. I'll start future posts with a picture from the bazillion I took during my afternoon excursion. That way I won't ever run out of pictures to put at the top of posts, as I always fear I will.

Much love~

Friday, February 12, 2010


Spanish class today was the same as Spanish class any other day, except for that a little bird came fluttering in through the open door and flicked around the classroom, befuddled by the sudden change in environment.
We were equally confused. "What is that?" "Why did it come in here?" "Is it retarded?" "Can we name it?" "How are we gonna get it out?" The bird darted frantically around the classroom in an aimless, hopeless pattern, lurching from one corner to the next, seeking escape.
The teacher has the brilliant idea of turning off the lights so it would fly towards the sunlight streaming in through the door. But when she did, the bird freaked out and shot behind a filing cabinet. After a few seconds of unsure ha-ha's and a few pitying moans, the bird reappeared. It rose into the air--we held our breath--started towards the door--we bit our lips--hovered near the doorway--we crossed our fingers--then lurched upward, pitched forward, and BAM! Into the window. It was insistent that the window was the only avenue to freedom. It hurled its tiny body against the pane of glass again and again and again, torturing itself in its attempt to escape.
At this point my fingers were itching. My camera was sitting patiently right there in my backpack, but I could sense its eagerness radiating in electric pulses. We're not exactly allowed to have them on during school, but I had to ask.
"Can I take a picture of it?"
I was relieved to be granted permission. I didn't catch very much of the action, but this is what I managed to get:

The little creature did not enjoy being prodded at by the janitor, but he eventually he figured out how to get himself out the door.
We all applauded for him, but he was probably far, far away from our classroom by then, too far, far, far away to hear us.
Anyway, that was the big interest of the day. Today was "Valentine's Day," technically, since it falls on a Sunday this year. Not many people brought Valentines, not many girls paraded around with balloons and roses. It was a bit muted, but that's okay.
I have this big project to work on right now, even though what I feel like doing is...
...I spent five minutes trying to think of how to end that sentence. I don't know what I want to do, but I know that sitting my bum on a chair and researching for an hour is not it. I have way more energy than a single body can possibly contain. I need to run. That's what I need to do.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Weeds and Bacon

Those are weeds I'm standing in. I know, weeds are supposed to be ugly.
These were the nicest-looking weeds I've ever seen in my life. Or maybe I just liked them because they matched my shoes.

Well, I think there's something wrong with me. A few days ago I was living my humdrum life, making cynical comments inside my head and constantly waiting for the week/year/rest of the life to end. But then a little switch in my head flicked, a dial turned, and suddenly everything seems just fine, and even wonderful. I think I might be happier than I have ever been.
Nothing in particular happened to initiate this sudden but welcome burst of positivity. But it came forth nonetheless, and I plan to enjoy it before it sputters and fizzles, and my life descends back into its lusterless gray shades.

I have energy now. I tap and hum in class. I spin in circles down the sidewalk instead of walking, if nobody's around to see. If this goes on I'm going to jump out of my skin and explode into the sky. I will fly, fly away and never come back to the world where there are troubles, because it is simply too amazing to feel so free.

Anyway. Bacon. *click*

Monday, February 8, 2010

A multitude of lightbulbs illuminating

I think I think too much. I can turn around entire situations by overthinking things. I have put myself through a good amount of misery by doubting and believing and deciding and changing my mind with every blink.
Sometimes I really want to kill my stupid, paranoid brain.
My blog is a good thing, a place where I can ramble mindlessly without worrying what I'm talking about, or why. I used to care more, but suddenly my mind has more important things to attend to, and the blog that used to be the center of my personal universe is now just an accessory to my life, a little embellishment, a sprinkling of glitter on the edges.
Speaking of which, please vote on the new poll, because I actually want to see some answers for this one. Do pictures make this blog any better at all? For this post I wasn't really sure what went with the topic, so I tried to look... curious. Curious--wondering--thinking...? Whatever.
So, I'm really craving a little snow these days.
I know, Jenny. You live on the coast of California. You never see snow, unless you travel up or, as it turns out, down. But snow is so pretty and bundle-up-y. School and softball keep me pretty busy, and I crave an excuse to stay in bed, stay in my head, watch the snow drift and feel my spirits lift. I never feel like facing the world when it's freezing out. I cling to my bedclothes in the morning as if I were clutching the corner of a cliff with fingers weak enough to slip.
The frigid days send my spirit out of my skin, my nerves close off, and I draw into myself. Wintertime can be beautiful, but my skin is paler than the moon and my heart has frozen solid. I think maybe I'm ready for little sunlight.

(Both literally and figuratively)

Sunday, February 7, 2010

The Valentine's Day post, early.

I count all the reasons I love you before I sleep,
Count the endless reasons instead of sheep.
Because even when I close my eyes, I only see your face,

And I shi
ver because I am not wrapped up tight in your warm embrace.
You left me with a
frozen heart, a silent heart that will no longer beat,
A heart that fell asleep and never woke, a heart shamefully accepting defeat.
But sometimes,
When I smother my thoughts,

And cover my ears and my eyes with my pillows and my sheets,
And tell myself you were never important to me, I can hear tentative heartbeats.

I count the h
eartbeats before I sleep,
Count the lies instead of sheep.

Yes, I took that picture and did not edit it. There was actually a heart-shaped puddle on the front lawn of my school.
But now that I think about it, I should have gotten an angle that reflected something more eye-appealing than a school building. I mean, it makes the whole picture so much more bluh than it would have been otherwise.
Then I thought it would be cute to whip up a little love poem to go with it. But don't worry, it's not based on any actual experiences/emotions; I'm not heartbroken.
But that's not all I've been whipping up!
I've been working on my valentine to give people this year. Last year I was boring: a little card and candy. I almost fall asleep just thinking about it.
THIS year, I am making fudge, then pressing those little conversation hearts on top, and making rice krispie treats with pink sprinkles, putting them in a cupcake liner with two jumbo conversation hearts, covering the whole thing with tissue paper, and tying it up with ribbon.
*claps excitedly*
I have pictures and everything...
Fudge with conversation hearts pressed in them!

Pink-sprinkled rice krispie treats!

^ Yeah, when I spread the mixture out to fill the entire pan, the treats were realllly thin. So I kind of compromised by doing this. ^

Liners waiting to be filled with delicious treats...

And f-i-n-a-l-l-y, what's done now. I'm still waiting for the fudge to set, so this is all you're going to get to see. (So far.)

Valentine's Day is really sort of a pointless holiday, unless you have a wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/husband who will dutifully buy you stuff. It consists of the aforementioned buying of stuff for each other of couples, plus giving your friends little cards and candies.
It just doesn't seem special enough to be a holiday, you know?
But then, you don't see me complaining that Boxer Day is a pointless holiday, so whatever.


Saturday, February 6, 2010

Capturing beautiful things

Went for a walk through the neighborhood today, looking for pretty things to take pictures of. It was five o'clock already when I had the idea, so I couldn't go far. Plus, the batteries in my camera were low and we didn't have any more. I went anyway. I think I need to do more spontaneous things.

These clover (clovers?) were in somebody's front lawn. I was struck by a sudden urge to find one with four leaves. I did a quick reconnaissance of the street around me, then crouched and started hastily shuffling through the teeny plants. Every time I heard a car approach or thought I saw a movement in a window in the corner of my vision, I would promptly straighten up and casually start strolling down the sidewalk. Then, as soon as the car/kid on a bike/dog walker had turned a corner or gone far enough down the way that they wouldn't be able to see me, I would resume my task. My fingers located each stem and determined that only three leaves were attached to it, time after time, between nervous glances at the front window of the house whose lawn I was trampling on.
I think I searched that clover patch pretty thoroughly, but no four-leafed clovers presented themselves. I'm just waiting for bad luck to strike.
Maybe I shouldn't have looked. Maybe I should have just glanced at the patch and not known whether one was there, but left the possibility open that maybe there was.
I guess I like to be sure of things. Hence being year of the Boar on the lunar calendar.

Walking home, I decided to cut through my school because it was getting dark and I needed to get home. I love being at school during the day when it's empty. I don't know why. I guess because it's just so suffocatingly crowded during the school day, it seems really spacious and nice when there aren't thousands of bodies shoving and bumping past you constantly.
But in the dark, it was creepy. I kept thinking somebody was going to jump out of the shadows at me, and I had this odd sensation that I wasn't supposed to be there, like students are not allowed on campus when it's not school hours. It would a have been a good time to commit suicide, have my first kiss, get beat up, lose my mind, get inspired to write a really edgy poem, pass out, or meet a mysterious stranger.
None of these things happened. I scuttled away, frightened by the spooky ambiance.

My duct tape/comic strip pencilcase that I talked about earlier:

I'm using it to store all my markers and Sharpies. I saw this tote bag in a boutique in Monterey a loooong time ago that had this sort of comic strip collage design. But, being in Monterey, it was a large sum. I don't remember how much, but I remember thinking that it was not worth it, no matter how cute it was.
I think I might make a tote bag, because the little pencilcase I made was really pretty durable and not crappy like most other little experiments of mine turn out. I have made a tote before with a T-shirt, and I think I can convert the method to duct tape.