It's been quite a while, hasn't it, Live Journal?  I've neglected you a little bit.  Sorry bout that.  But I'm always on myspace and I never feel like copying and pasting my late night crazy rantings into two separate blogs.  It's a hassle.  But I thought it would be a good time to let some things out.

So, I've been here in Los Angeles for almost two months now and I'm still unemployed.  I guess I haven't been trying as hard as I could, but I'm really terrible at this.  Calling people back and checking on applications.  You have no idea how awkward trying to get a job feels to me.  And how much I loathe this process.  To the very core of me.  I dunno what it is but there's never been that "okay, I'm gonna apply here, here and here today and then I'm gonna do this and bla bla bla, etc..."  I feel like I'm groping in the dark.  Just stumbling about going "okay... so.... I'll get an application here..... and then.... something..... I dunno. And then some stuff....."

But that's not the point of this.  The point of this is that because I haven't gained employment, my mom seems to be looking at the idea of setting a time limit.  And if I don't have something by then, I have to come home.  Now while I see why she would do this, I just really feel like I can't go home.  As much as I miss everyone there, I can't.  The thought of having to go back there with all that shit..... I can't do it.  I can't go back to not wanting to go to the mall because I might see Rachel or her mom or her sister.  I can't go back to scanning the parking lot of every establishment before I enter so that I know what to expect.  I can't go back to having to stratigically place myself in Mickie's house so as to not have to look at her when she's sitting in the room.

But more importantly, I can't go back to the feeling Winchester gave me.  Content.  You may be thinking "But what's so bad about being conent, Jackie?  Isn't that a good thing?"  And I would say to you, this is a different kind of contentedness.  A stagnant kind of feeling.  Knowing that I'm not gaining any ground there in Winchester.  I'm not growing.  At all.  I'm getting new experiences, of course.  Waking up every morning is gaining new experience, but other than the memory of another day lived, what am I getting?  I had fun with my friends, yes.  I loved them all dearly.  But what was I doing, really? 

I know my life wasn't bad, it was really good.  But I wasn't doing anything.  Not really, anyway.  It was the same, every day.  No direction, no goal, no motivation, just the same thing.  A good thing.  But the same thing.  Now I've taken this huge leap.  Rather than timid little steps I've jumped off the cliff.  I'm free falling into nothingness.  And now it's like there's this bungee cord tethered to my waist threatening to pull me right back up to where I was before, safe on the bridge looking over the edge.

And then what would I think of myself?  Just another pipe dream that I can't reach.  There's Jackie, just another one who couldn't get out of Winchester, no matter how hard she tried.  Couldn't leave just like all the rest.  I know no one would think this of me, but I would think this of myself.  I'd just be one of "those people" who got themselves into such a nice little niche somewhere that no matter what they just fall right back in that hole.  It's a comfortable hole, with pillows and all my favorite snacks and movies, but it's still a hole.  A hole with dirt walls.

I hate how my mother has the power to turn my optimistic day into not wanting to leave the house.  I know why I turn into a recluse.  It's her.  A simple request to do something as normal as go to an all night bad horror movie party turns into hour long discussions of philosphical and psychological matters I'm not good at talking about.  Although, it's much more intense, my disappointment, than it ever used to be.  I think that's because I learned to turn off my feelings and once you try to turn one back on, the rest come along with it.  I don't regret it, I just wish I was better at dealing with it than I am.  I wish I hadn't started shutting down and ignoring things when I was younger, maybe then it would be better as an adult.  I wish my mother could recognize me as an adult.

And although I now feel like I'd rather just stay home, defeated.  I can't do that.  I'd rather drive all the way home at three in the morning than let that feeling win.  Instead, I'll go, whether she wants me to or not, to be in a crowded room full of people I know and care about.  I will shout at the movie screen until I'm hoarse.  I will eat junk and forget about all the depressing things she's said to me.  Because I'm not a quitter.  Fuck that.  I have a drive stronger than even I can believe, sometimes.  And when I'm angry, that drive only compels me further.  Yes, there are things I need to discuss with you.  Important things that I really shouldn't put off any longer.  But tonight?  Tonight I am going to relax with my friends and laugh at movies like "Jesus Christ: Vampire Slayer"  And then take to the roads so that you can have a vehicle in the morning, because despite the underhanded things you said to me, this evening, I love you and you will always be my mother and therefore, I will always love you, no matter how much I hate the things you say to me or the way you condescend to me.

  I was thinking about this during the flight to Minnesota on Thursday.  It's funny, but, thoughts and feelings become so much clearer when you're hundreds of feet above the Earth hurtling through the sky at several hundred miles per hour in a hunk of steel so thin you can almost feel the breeze.  I sat right over the engines so there was no view of the tiny ants we call people as they blur into nothingness upon take off, suddenly rushing back into normal size as the plane plummets toward the ground turning it's nose at precisely the right moment so as not to turn it's passengers into mush on the runway and instead coming to a screeching halt on the asphalt.  The entire right there was the constant hum... well more like a roar, of those giant mechanisms keeping our plane from plummeting perilously towards the ground.  (Like the aliteration?  Yeah.  Me too.)  As stuffed my headphones in my ears and turned up the music loud enough to drown the sound, things began to seem so simple.  Everything was so far away.  It was easier to breath.  Easier to think.  Like all the problems, all the things that were stressing me could no longer touch me.  I was so far away from it all, it was like it belonged to someone else. 

  My creative side suddenly blossomed.  I started fleshing out my short film, writing furiously.  I felt like a professional screen writer.  Writing things like "Scene opens" and "main character enters".  I realized this project is going to take more than me, Molly and some garden tools.  I'll need actors.  Maybe an extra camera operator.  Kaley and Rachel can handle costume design.  They're good with that sort of thing.  Hell, Kaley took a class on the history of fashion.

  It's strange to finally have things figured out.  It seems strange that I never thought of this earlier.  It comes so naturally to me.  I always thought of things visually and I used to try and direct my dog to play Batman and Robin with me.  I realized that I've been doing this my entire life.  How could it have taken so long to figure this out?  I thought it would be a lot harder than it is to find great shots and angles, but I can find them just about anywhere.  At first it was hard to get the camera to see what I was seeing, but now, camera angles, focus and zoom seem like second nature.  I can't wait to get a job and start saving for my hv30.  I can't wait to get better editing software so I can do crazy things.  I can't wait to get to LA and start taking crazy footage of homeless people and migrant workers.

I don't want to have essays to write.  I don't want to have chores to do.  I don't want responsibilties or consequences.

I want to run outside, pick up a stick and be a pirate.  The playground would be my ship.  I would gather my friends from the neighborhood and they would be my dastardly crew. 

Mom would find a captain's hat for me to wear in storage on the top shelf of the hall closet. 

Together, my crew and I would sail the seas. 

We would combat evil.

Our weapons would be sticks, stones, plastic guns and our imaginations.  Our foes would exist only in the deepest parts of our minds.  They are a horrid bunch.  Gnashing teeth, greasy hair (if they have any at all) and clothes ripped, torn and unwashed.  Showing how long they've been off shore.  How long they've had to lose touch with reality.

And though these devious crew are only imagined, my crew and I somehow imagine equally horrifying looking men.... if they can be called that...

We fight with everything we have against our invisible enemy.

We may fight for days.

Chasing them across seas, across borders, to undiscovered lands with terrific and terrifying creatures only a child could imagine.  Some are friendly.  Others are food.

Finally, on the last days of our escapade, we corner our enemy.

My crew and I charge toward what must be certain death.

Not all of us are here.

Some lost their lives to our evil adversaries, others to the postion of the sun in the sky.

We are severely outnumbered, out gunned and out classed.  These half men are ruthless. 

They fight dirty.

But we stand tall.

And I go down, in a blaze of glory.  Like a true captain.  Sacrificing myself for my crew and my loved ones.

In the distance I hear a call.

High pitched and disruptive, but comfortingly familiar.

I move towards the sound.

Dinner has been made.

The table has been set.

I partake in the meal and dream

Until...


I wake the next morning and begin a new adventure.

I love springtime.  It is, by far, my favorite time of year.  I love this time of year because no matter what happens, everything seems to be going my way.  I just can't help but be happy no matter how many times a day my mom lectures/yells at me.  (Also, I think she just yells at me because Kaley is gone and he has no one to fight with.  Thanks, Kaley)

I'm so excited about this Fall, right now.  Every day I think to myself "Man, I never thought this day would come, but I'm kind of an adult, now!"  I'm moving across the fucking United States and I couldn't be more excited. 

I think I've finally gotten over that stuff.  You guys know what I'm talking about.  The asshole?  The cheating bastard?  Yeah.  I'm totally over it.  Few weeks ago, I couldn't think his name without physically feeling the rage boiling in my chest, filtering through to my stomach, arms, legs, toes, fingertips.  But now, I think if I saw him on the street, I'd be able to shake his hand.  I still don't like him, but I'm done letting that hate get the best of me.  It's the worst feeling in the world, hating someone uncontrollably.  I never want to have that feeling, again.  But my sister got me through it.  She always gives the best advice. <3

Even though my mom keeps finding every excuse to lecture/yell at me almost daily for not having a job, I still can't help but be happy about everything else.  I think it makes my mom mad.  That even though I'm really stressed out about not having a job, I'm still happy and easy going.  Maybe if I was rushing around, desperately gasping for air, spreading myself to the breaking point she'd be happy, but since I'm not that type of person, since I don't let the stress get the better of me, she feels like I'm not doing enough.  Since I'm not visibly upset, she thinks I don't care.  I'm tired of telling her I am worried about getting a job.  I am worried that I'll be going to L.A. with five bucks in my pocket and no way to support myself until I find a job, there.  I really am very worried about all that.  But it's just my nature to be relaxed and easy going about it.  And though my mom can break my good mood for a day or so, nothing can keep me down long when the weather is like it is.  When the sun is shining so bright like this.

I love it.

The world is marvelous and I can't wait to get out and see it all.

You guys are all great.

I love you.

Stay happy.

Ever have an upside down day?  You know, those days where you feel like you just wanna turn your world upside down?  I just wanna walk out my door, down my street and then just keep going. 

See what I run into. 

Who I run into.

I wanna follow a road, any road, to it's end.  Does it really end?  Or does the road just begin anew?  Turn into a different road.

I wanna go out somewhere and pick a fight.  Doesn't matter who with, I just wanna pick a fight.  I wanna get arrested.  I wanna shave my head and move to a new town.  I want to turn everything inside out.  I wanna take all my money, what little I have, and give it to the first person I meet.  I wanna switch places with someone completely different from me.

I wanna run around outside like I'm seven years old, again.  Why don't we do that anymore?  Why don't we play in the rain?  Cover ourselves in mud and pretend to be elephants?  Why can't our imaginations turn a dead piece of tree branch into Excalibur or a magicians staff that can turn you into stone with a single wave?

Why can't we turn our world upside down, anymore?

Why must we grow up?

Why does everyone care so much what people will think of them?

"Maturity" is a joke.

So, here's the story for anyone who hasn't been keeping up.

Almost two weeks ago, I challenged Scott to do his happy dance in Old Town Winchester on the walking mall during the day when it's busy.  He subsequently challenged me to run down the mall screaming zombies (search SiblingRivalryOnline on youtube if you wanna see it), which I did.  Last monday Scott was s'posed to post a video containing his challenge, but due to work constraints he missed his video.  I issued a punishment that Scott had to eat a half a spoonful of wasabi, which he did... sort of...

<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gto1c40zAlU&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gto1c40zAlU&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>

Now, Madi pointed out that Scott also didn't do his challenge, in addition to missing a video.

<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AgKulUhmaf0&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AgKulUhmaf0&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>

My question to you is, should Scott

A. Do the revamped challenge
B. Submit to a second punishment (if you have a suggestion, leave it with your vote)
or C. Go on as if nothing happened

Make your choice!

Yes, I have been blog tagged.  Thanks, Scott.

Here are my five.

1. I am insanely proud of my Scottish heritage.  Seriously, it's a little sickening how excited I get watching Braveheart.

2. I've never had a boyfriend.  (+1 nerd factor!  Yessss!)

3. I still wanna be a Power Ranger.

4. I always cry profusely at the end of the movie The Iron Giant.

And finally...

5. I've, literally, dreamt about being Mrs. Lovett....

Eff tagging five other people! >.<

I have this problem.  It's been there for quite some time.  I've been trying to address it, but I can't seem to figure out just how.  My problem is that I am a professional dabbler.  What I mean by this, is that my entire life, I've never stuck with anything.  I've dabbled.  Maybe it was a way to cope with moving.  Getting to reinvent myself whenever I changed locations.  It was kind of nice.  New home, new friends, new me.  That's what's so great about moving, if you don't like who you are, you can change much easier than if you try to change when you've lived somewhere for a long time.  You get a clean slate, which is like the coolest thing, ever.  There's no one around to get mad at you for changing or tell hassle you about it.  I got to do that a few times, which was nice.

The bad thing about all this reinvention was that, I never really latched on to one thing.  Most people cemented who they were around high school-ish and knew what they were interested and what they wanted to do with their lives.  I became... a dabbler.  I've wanted to be everything from a tap dancer to a barrel racer to a veteranarian and a ninja turtle (well, I still wouldn't mind being a ninja turtle), but I always decided half way through each of those things that I liked something else better.

Maybe I'm just afraid of success, but I think I need to just try sticking with my decision for once and see where it leads me.

Although, it would just be nicer if I could find some way to be a professional dabbler for life.

Whatever.

I was going through my journal today, looking for spaces to glue some ticket stubbs, and I started reading some of the ridiculous entries and lame attempts at poetry/song lyrics that I had written over the years, and I decided to share a few things with you all, since I think I wrote these long ago enough, that it won't be embarrassing, but rather, entertaining to see how silly I used to be.

Entry title, and I kid you not, Laughter Is Teh Best Medecine. (I figured I should start writing some jokes down, in case I ever pursued my dream of being a stand-up comedian, never mind my paralyzing stage fright...)

"Laughing cures cancer.  Laughing at cancer diminishes cancer's ego and if cancer's ego is diminished, cancer can't kill you.  Cancer is a very egotistical disease.  It thinks it's better than all the other diseases.  You should hear the trash it talks about Black Plague...  But, as with most egomaniacs, cacner is very reliant on it's emotions.  I knew this one guy who totally threw it in cancer's face and cancer totall lost it.  It just lost all will to kill the guy."

What the hell was I talking about?  I dunno.  But for like a week I convinced myself that if I just wrote a lot I could actually write poetry or song lyrics or whatever.  Yeah, that didn't pan out.  Here's a little sample. (Keep in mind I was really into Flogging Molly when I wrote this)

Stuck here in the middle of nowhere
Chaos abound
The wind she blows and
The waves they pound
My ship's gonna capsize
World's turning upside down

I stand on deck in the rain and
Think of my crew men's faces
Just as they drown
Moments ago they were men
Just like you and me
Now they're just bodies floatin' in the sea (pretty upbeat stuff, eh?)

If I should make it through this storm
What will I say
What will I tell the families
Of the sailors I couldn't save

Will I forget them and move on
Will their faces remain
Deep in my memories
At night when I dream

Will this storm recede
Or will I die
Get caught up in this current
This very same tide
That took all I knew from me
All in one night

And if I don't make it back
If I never return
I hope you live your life well
And I wish that you learn

To make your life better
The way that it was
Forget all your troubles
And all your lost loves

All that remains of my ship
Are pieces of wood
I hope your memories of me
Are the ones that are good

See, I wasn't always this cool.  It took a lot of time and effort to become as awesome as I am today.

Anyway, this was really just an excuse to not keep doing my research for my english paper.  I hope you enjoyed that lameness as much as I did.