The introduction to my online English class:

“There are no hard and fast rules of writing.”

lol i gues ill rite mai pprz liek dis den

Things That Never Need To Be Said: #1

“I don’t really want to listen to Supertramp right now.”

Copypasta

About 30 seconds ago, I planned on replying to a message.  Usually when I get messages on systems I freaking hate, I just copypaste their message in Word (except really I mean the open source, free, and totally baller office suite called OpenOffice), and write my reply there, where the spellchecker works consistently and I can edit without fear of accidentally browsing away from the window and losing my response.

So I opened a document, hit Ctrl + V, and instead of the message I thought I’d copied, I get this:

(I DESPISE MYSELF MORE THAN ANY OF YOU CAN POSSIBLY COMPREHEND)

Yeah.  I don’t even know what this was about, but I think the fact that it was on my clipboard pretty much defines me as a person.  My melodrama is used for humorous value, but turns out to be far more depressing than I intended, and it makes people think I really am that fucked up.

Awesome.

P.S. My brother, who’s way more reliable about updating than I am, had an awesome suggestion of what to do with my blog, which I’ll tell y’all about later.  Huzzah!

Life Sucks, and Love is Subjective.

Holy crap I just learned to use the

Things I Need Definitions For

This is a completely serious and not made-up list of things that appeared when I typed “define” into Google today.

I realize my attempt to convince you this is real in the last sentence made it seem fake, but hopefully the fact that the list isn’t all that funny will convince you otherwise.

P.S.  The word I wanted defined today was “placate.”  I use it a lot, and suddenly I feared I was using it wrong.  I wasn’t.  Hurray!

Oh shit, and double-P..S. – This isn’t the heartfelt entry I mentioned in the last entry.  Whoops.  Alright, I’ll fix that up right now.  RIGHT NOW.

She Lives!

Hi!

I haven’t updated this bitch in 8 months, 6 of which were spent wanting to write but being afraid to.  I don’t want to say things that are viewed as passive-aggressive.  The problem is, honesty can be perceived as an attempt to hurt people.  And hey, of course it’s perceived that way.  Often, it’s used that way.  It’s so easy to say one thing, blog about another, and watch as people struggle to reconcile the contradictions it creates.  “Baby, you said you weren’t mad at me, but in your blog, you were plotting my death! What’s up with that?”  It’s this weird, convoluted way of telling people things.  Apparently writing an e-mail isn’t impersonal enough, so you write it in a public, indirect forum and wait until they discover it. It’s pretty much disgusting to me.

I, however, don’t write to pass along messages I’m afraid to say directly.  I don’t write to get a reaction out of people I no longer speak to.  I write to get it out, get it the fuck out, and I don’t want it to be perceived as anything else.  But, to be honest in a blog I have to learn to be honest in reality.  Lately I’ve had far too much to hide from far too many people.  I can’t blog publicly unless I’m willing to be honest in reality, and it’s something I’m working on.

Instead, I’ve been writing in my private blog.  This is a completely unsatisfying activity, because no one reads my private blog.  Maybe because I never write in it, and when I do, I don’t screen for typos.  I don’t even edit.  I just spill my guts and walk away.  It’s a lot like getting wasted and puking on a sidewalk.  You’ve gotta get the liquor out of your system somehow before it poisons you, but you don’t expect anyone to stare at the half-digested remnants of what was once a delicious Blue Motorcycle.  Only the people who truly love you are willing to wade through that much dysfunction and grossness, and the people who love me don’t read my blog.  Or watch me puke, for that matter.

I did, however, write one private entry that wasn’t just vomit on a sidewalk.  If I’m going to get back into public blogging, I figure I should begin with something that felt true when I wrote it, even if it’s moderately insulting to various parties.   It’s my life, baby.  I’ll talk about it if I freaking want to.

After some minor edits, that entry’s coming up next.  Hopefully I can get back into writing semi-frequently.  Now is as good a time as any to start pretending I’m a writer again.

- Jess

Oh Well

I’ve been sitting here waiting for an e-mail on an assignment I failed to turn in when it was due–Hell, I failed to even remember it existed–that’s worth about a third of my grade for the class, and it got me thinking: Christmas is almost here.  Are you serious?  What the hell happened to this year?

At the end of a year, I tend to tally up all my successes and failures, and realize yet again that I have no reason to live.  Awesome.

What when wrong this year?  Well, I lost two of my closest friends, one crazy mom, and many, many opportunities to become the kind of person I want to be.  I gained a relationship, a comfortable place to live for now, and a few new possible directions to go with my life.

Of course, I’ll likely start the new year in a state close to clinical depression.  But it’s all good.  It’s nothing I haven’t done before.  Hell, it happens every year.  Although, I get the feeling it’s going to hit me pretty goddamn hard this time around.  I’m an adult now.  I have no excuses for myself anymore.

YAAAAY, I’m so uplifting!

Anyway, I plan on blogging about some awesome/hilarious/interesting stuff whenever I feel it’s worth my time.  And, considering everything I just described, I don’t see that feeling coming along any time soon.  Which is pretty much why I abandoned this blog the day I set it up.

GOD I RULE SO HARD.

Time to go fail a class!

Oh, the Humanity!

So. This is a blog. In fact, it’s yet another blog in a very long list of blogs. Signing up for blog sites with the intention of frequenting them is a bad habit I’ve had since I was about 12. I’ve tried to fight it, but like AIDS, or Gremlins, it always comes back. I’ve finally given in and let the obsession take me.

This time, however, I’ve signed up for a blog for a reason. Well, sort of. See, my real website is down. Permanently.

Why is it down “permanently,” you ask? Is it because I can no longer afford to have my own domain name? Well, in actuality, I could never afford my own domain name. And that’s why my dad was paying for it. Unbeknownst to me, the subscription was automatically renewing itself, and billing his account instead of mine. Oops!

Recently, however, his card expired, and stupid GoDaddy sent me an e-mail asking for its money. I was all, “Whatchu all up in my business ’bout, GoDaddy? I’s been payin’ you on time since the day we MADE this deal.” Which was partially true, except for the fact that I wasn’t the one paying, and I don’t talk like a wigger. Nor do I talk to inanimate objects and/or non-personified domain hosts. Okay, maybe I do. I forgot my point.

Anyway. I no longer have a web domain. This loss has cut me deep, but I’ll try to move on, via self-destructive behavior and writing poems about the darkness in my soul. I’ve already got three notebooks full of them. You can’t read them, though; not because they’re private, but because they’re written in black ink on black paper. It’s the only way I could truly portray how dark, and black, and… dark I feel inside.

Now that the lengthy explanation for why I’m here is out of the way, I guess I’ll introduce myself.

Hi! I’m Jess. I obsessively peel the labels off things. Every time I read something in “quotation marks,” I do air quotes with my fingers, even when I’m reading silently. Sometimes I find my panties in very odd, public places. I have absolutely no reason to live at any given moment, but I do so anyway. Then I write about it.

I’ll see y’all soon.