h-e-l-l-o

Good morning to you.
My computer has been M.I.A. for the past couple weeks. Had a failed logic board and display, to those of you that knows what that means. I think I liked its absence more than I thought I would. Don't get me wrong, I love my computer, I have a gross attachment to this thing. But I'm going to attempt to not allow my life to be consumed with the digital world anymore. Besides this blog, maybe. And youtube.

What has happened recently sans computer?
Joined a gym and have started going to yoga regularly.
Found a new addiction to ginger candy.
Auditioned for a play at school, surprisingly got called back and then got a role.
Wore shorts outside. Warned the public to put their sunglasses on.
Attempted to watch Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? then turned it off because it annoyed the fuck out of me.
Wanted Joan Crawford's character to just throw herself down the stairs.
Started reading before bed.
Ate all my food.
Bought tickets for San Francisco, a virgin to Virgin Airlines.

I'll be there tomorrow this time.

Perhaps hello to the beginnings of the new chapter in my life.

meyow.

Drive-By Press

Today Drive-By Press lectured in my printmaking class. Beyond epic. Wanted to go home and start working almost instantaneously. Realized how much the printmaking world is a social, communal kind of thing. Freaked me out because I'm usually the loner working neurotically by myself in my room at the last minute.
I want to do this. I'm gonna do this. Clean my shit up, have a working space, and get to it. Work hard, be kind, be genuine.
Also meet a nice, handsome, creative midwestern man with a wicked sense of humor and a mustache.
Also, be metal. Like Dennis McNett. Inspirationally-intimidatingly-badass work.



Also, do my global studies homework. I guess. Meh.

mo' money

mo' problems.

Last Calvin and Hobbes.

Woke up this morning with an incredible feeling of sickness. Felt like I was drowning in my own spit, gross, I know. On top of that I had heartburn like a motha' and couldn't believe how much I'd kill for some pepto bismol. What a stupid name. Then I got to thinking about all of the medicines I don't have that my mom definitely would have. How does she always have everything? It must be a mom thing. Then I thought I should call my mom to see how she's doing. I haven't. I will.
Back to original topic. Eyes were/are swollen. Skin's greasy as fuck. Everyone else is asleep, and I would love to be. So what the fuck is my problem?
You are hungover, Jessica. And way to jump the fuck around with narrative perspective.
Tequila's a brutal thing. Totally fucks up my ability to dominate in Mario Party. Still think I was dealt a shitty/rigged controller.
Whatever. I always end up walking like, 10 miles without even knowing it when I'm in Isla Vista. The world is a blur at night, and all the half-naked girls in heels and drunken dub-step loving neanderthals come out to play. Guilty pleasure: I like dub-step. Maybe I'm too harsh. But when it's fucking anything below 60 degrees outside, I'm going to need a sweater. Whiskey-induced-warmth or not. Fuck I need some cough syrup.
Anyways, add to my hangover the feeling of running a marathon. All exercise benefits from stumbling around for a couple hours are cancelled out by the spicy spinach pizza, Morningstar buffalo wings and Pringles that I engorged myself upon before sleeping. No wonder I have indigestion.

Last night was fun. A total blur. I'll miss John and Becky when they're back in SF. As for right now, I just want to sleep.


Cool picture of the Rockefeller Center on December 5, 1933? Why, yes. Yes it is.

Like that strumming.

In a bluesy kind of mood. Thanks, Matthew.