About Boobs {Sorry, Gents.}

http://hellogiggles.com/flat-ter-your-beautiful-boobs-and-make-some-pancakes-already

I love this. I've honestly had such an inconsistent chest size throughout my life due to varying levels of athleticism, health issues, and medical diet changes. I went from being almost a D at age nineteen to just barely finding out a week ago that I'm back to being an A at twenty one. I also realized that I'm perfectly okay with it. So many of my girl friends have acted like someone has died whenever it gets brought up. Like I'm mourning my full chest. But I've realized that I really don't mind. I think I even prefer being flat chested at the moment just because I have an aversion to what I refer to as "The Big-Girl Bra," (basically anything with an underwire or padding.) I prefer comfort. There are pros and cons to either end of the spectrum, so I might as well love the pros I've got while I have them. I think that we as women so easily forget our own beauty comes from our individuality, particularly when faced with the media's portrayal of "idealism." So thank you, Ellen Clifford, for your honest, tasteful, and good humored post. :)

Don't Touch Me.

You know her.

The girl who is all roses and smiles.
She won't always show teeth when she grins and finds that unnatural is the sound of anger.
Despite this, the closest you'll actually get to her is transparency.

If you're looking at every inch of a thing, microscopes and autopsies will show that to grab on distorts the image. Cutting off blood flow. Marring detail. Changing. So are you really holding her? Or is she only the unattainable image? The closest you can get to cradling that is to take a picture. Which time will eat away at with hungry lights and burning tongues and settling grime. Who is she? The face in the frozen moment? Or the moment you see through a faded 2D 4X6 window cracked and wrinkled by the wallet it folded into? If the face, then she's gone. Age made her a new one. If the moment, she became someone else in the next.
Everyone has a separate reality. What appears to one is entirely different from what appears to another. The eyes that view a thing find separate parallels. Two lines on the same plane arriving at completely different destinations.

I don't want you to have any part of my soul because you don't know what it means.

On Perfection and the World's Abuse of It

     Soapboxes are overrated. And besides, I don't know if a soapbox could actually support the weight of this issue. I have become rather hyper aware of the media's portrayal of beauty. Thin waist, big boobs, long legs, silky soft yet thick hair, massive eyes, luscious lips, the recent obsession over the "thigh gap," airbrushed skin, and a general absence of any flaw anywhere. Not even one that might add character.

     These physical attributes are not a bad thing. There are people out there who possess them. They are beautiful. But so is everyone else. I don't care if you have one, all, or none. There is, undeniably, beauty about you. The problem is, the women we commonly see being used to portray this level of so-called perfection don't even necessarily have all of the traits displayed. Photoshop, my friends, is a cleverly implemented lie. Yes, it can be artistic, yes it can be a great way to make minor adjustments. But if it's being used to distort someone's appearance beyond practicality? Abuse.

     I am not trying to attack anyone. I merely am aware that the present direction things are taking is unhealthy. It is. People have died over it. It's upsetting to me that young girls who are trying to enjoy life and take their place in the world are finding themselves inadequate because they don't have the bones of a 5'10" 100 lb. supermodel or the curves of a modern day pin up. I will not say names, because it is not fair for us to address the issue of saying a woman's form of beauty isn't adequate by stating that another woman's figure is overly so. Just as I cannot take sides on the heavier or thinner issue. There is no wrong size. We are all human. It's unavoidable.

     Yes, there are unhealthy habits. Many of us practice at least one. Even being hyper aware of your physical health can be unhealthy in its way. Just because you have curves doesn't mean you should put down anyone for being thin. And just because you are thin doesn't mean you have the right to judge someone for weighing more. The figures you see in front of you each have a life behind them that has helped make them who they are. Do not disrespect someone's appearance. We are all strong. We are all lovely. We are all human and WE MATTER. It's much easier to be negative towards someone who's soul you haven't taken the time to understand. Give them compassion, because that is what you deserve.

     We are all beautiful. And there will always be people who find us beautiful no matter what. I have passed people in the streets who were by no means perfect, but despite their flaws, I found them stunning. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and your eyes are someone's own form of perfection. There is no uniform standard. The kinder you are, the harder you work, the deeper you understand others, these will increase your ability to see the beauty that many are forgetting about. The only way we can shake the monumental falsehood that is physical perfection is by reassessing it's necessity and definition. Open your eyes. Notice color and life again. Because it is so much better and bigger and exciting than anything we can imagine. It's more difficult. But it's worth it.

Essentially, I'm Sorry.

When a relationship unravels it's not the end. The end is a choice. You or the other party has to make choices that define an ending. 

I'm about to elaborate.

An unraveling is painful and can be catastrophic, yes. A gaping wound anchored in the pit of your being and radiating outward. When in this condition or similar I am led to believe that we revert back to more primal instincts. Wether our mind thrusts these upon us to distract from the injury or we do it consciously, I have noticed patterns accompanying emotional disruption. Binge eating, lust, fatigue, great desire for material possession, indescribable anger, unreasonable envy, and monumental pride. All seven just as deadly as they were before. However, in this case, gluttony is no longer merely a sin but a symptom. An effect of a damaged sense of emotional wellness. 

Symptoms of an emotional nature must be tempered in a way that will not only treat the underlying issue, but will also eradicate the urge to react in manners destructive to ones relationship with others. For example, when a mother and a child argue over the child's ability to exercise independence in a way that exhibits maturity and the child storms off, refusing to admit fault, greater damage is done. Pride and anger take the stage and we see the rift grow in consequence. This rift will remain in place until such a time that one or both parties are drawn to soften and yield to admittance, forgiveness, and assumption of responsibility. Using these they can bridge the gap that time will gradually fill in. 

Consider time as one would consider the elements: unpredictable, and wearing on surroundings. Should the building of the bridge be delayed there are multiple variables that may have effect on the uneven grounds before repairs are able to be made. Case A being that it may fill very gradually as time goes on, with case B being that it may deepen or fill with impassable emotion. In either scenario, time and connection that might have been spared if but for an effort are lost. 

Communication is paramount in any interpersonal relation. The ability to discuss rationally as well as passionately should be a trait sought out by those endeavoring to form a solid bond. 

Humanity recognizes these attributes as virtues. Therefore it strengthens a relationship when the foundation is inclusive of not only the initial bond forged between two people, but the continuation of that bond through patient analysis of any disruption. This should then be tempered by the deeper knowledge of one another which should then be taken into consideration as the bond is reinforced and made anew. Over time, the gradual breaking down and repairing of a relationship is comparable to that of a muscle. When done properly, efforts will be rewarded with renewed and increased strength. When injured, successful recovery and improvement is possible, but requires patience and attention. 

I am not perfect and am so fortunate to have someone who is willing to acknowledge that in a loving way. I hope and endeavor to become a wiser, thoughtful, and well rounded person. I thank those who remind me of this and assist me in my goals.

*

2:38 A.M.

Go to sleep, you mad young thing.

Wildly.

I want something like a train flying down the tracks. Feet moving too quickly over foreign cobblestones, taking it all in while dancing our way across places that will never forget us. I hope that we'll be the two that they can't shake from their heads, the smile they can't keep from spreading when our image flits through their memory. Maybe they don't even know us beyond one moment in time. We're just the couple from the cafe in Florence who tried to contain their enjoyment of one another's company so much that the cake and the platter both fell to the ground. Not in an inappropriate way {Of course} we were just laughing much too hard. The waiter will come and we'll do our best to stifle mirth as we apologize profusely in Italian, tip him massively, and pay for any damages we've done. He'll turn from irritated to amused and in the end, we'll come back after his shift to take him and his wife out to dinner, as per our invitation. Even if we never see them again, they'll be our dear friends and we'll be that couple from that day at that cafe in Florence.

Now, I am aware that not every day can be perfectly happy. But I want something like that massive downpour of spring precipitation. The one that starts small and then pelts with such fervor that you can't resist kissing in it. You don't have to be happy with someone to love them completely. The sun comes out and you see the world as something so fresh. That breath of clean air as the steam curls and dives off the pavement. The left over drops that peel from leaves to fall to the ground, content with somewhere deeper. I simply can't remain upset, so I know things will be so perfectly, madly, enjoyably rollicking. 

We'll be so good for each other. While I am aware that "I" can be perfectly happy while singular, graduating to "we" just  has such a nice ring to it. And I know that I'm going to find that soon. That second letter that will turn the beginning of "me" upside down, granting the potential to hold something. Something I'll discover I can play off of and begin new sentences with. I'm fully aware that I am wild. Wild and mad and someone that can't fully be explained. But all that says to me is that I'm going to love wildly. And I do. I'm everywhere at once and can get lost in a corner, counting words in a book by the stories they tell or drawing on walls just to make them seem bigger. I'm no easy task to be filled, but oh how you'll learn from the mistakes I make. And I'll love you however you need me to. If we're rich, we'll be smart with our money, but only so we can share it more fully. If we're poor, we'll get by on as little as nothing while doing our best to put the extras where they can be seen as a treasure. They are a treasure, but only to those who know how to find proper worth. And I think we could teach them. The world, I mean. I want to be with the world with you. I know good will come from it. 

We could trip over France on our way to Russia, by the way. Or lose our luggage in Austria and have to thrift a fuller understanding that we otherwise would have been without. I want to get on the wrong train and pointlessly argue about whose fault it is, only to laugh and apologize, because it's mine and now we're stuck in Barcelona for the night. I'll make up for it though, I promise. We'll probably have to get a room. I want to dance on the deck of a small boat in Greece. I'll wear that dress you love with my hair down. The captain will be surly with us for a moment when we lean too far over the edge while looking at the water. I'll smooth my dress and smile as you thank him for looking out for our best interests and give him a grateful handshake. He'll tell us stories about close calls and we'll be interested because who can say if we'll ever meet a man quite him again?

We'll be on a mission for who knows what going who knows where. Perhaps Cambodia will not be quite what I expected, but you'll make it so much more that it could have been anyway. You'll do what you love and I'll love what you do because oh, how I admire your  dedication. Our home, big or small, will need fixing up from the wear and tear that love tends to put into it. The repairs only lock in the moments that required them, and I am of the opinion that memories never leave a place. We'll paint the ceiling with dreams and paper the walls with good humour. Once you've outgrown your hair and filled in oh so nicely we'll celebrate your accomplishments. After all, how dashing you look in your bathrobe and stockings. You'll never tarnish, and I'll never stop seeing the best of mankind written in the lines of your face. Laughter lines are life's way of reminding us that we've spent our time on something worth it. You'll be so worth it, and I'm ready to love you wildly.

Flying Again

For the first time in a long time I feel so wonderfully free! Both today and yesterday have been wildly productive and happy. I'm cooking like a champ, running like an olympian, dancing like...well, a fool in her underwear in my room, but in class I'm on FIRE. Painting, drawing, learning, laughing, and just being have all found their light again. And I think they're here to stay for a while. It's as though something had crossed in front of my way of looking at the world over the past five months and it's finally begun to ebb away. I can tell that it's not completely removed yet, but that means that as time runs on it'll only get lighter. I've carried a weight and my time with it is coming to a close. I'm so relieved. And nervous. But only because I have one less thing to tie me down, which means that I'll be drifting farther than I have in a while. Days are exciting again and nights not so lonely, though you'd think it'd be otherwise.

I have no explanation for what happened other than the fact that I did my very best. I hung on 'til things were so frayed that they couldn't be held together anymore. And I have no regrets. Not one.

I'm fully aware that things are not perfect. But they never have been and it'll take far more effort that any one human being could muster to polish away all the grime. So I am here. I am myself again. I am starting from a higher point and I am honest about it. And that is more than enough.

To you, if you're reading this, I hope that you find what you're looking for. And I hope that it's more than you want, because you seem to sell yourself short. You shouldn't. And you shouldn't sell others short either. They're worth more than you believe and you deserve to be treated the same way they do. If you need me you'll know where to find me, though I'm sure I'll be out and about. That doesn't mean I won't be there. It just means you'll have to do a bit more work to find me. 

Always your friend, but never your excuse, Jessica.

Alight and Alive

So...Words will come later.

Sufficient Rain

Dear Diary...

It's tough, you know. Writing out someone who has been so efficiently inked onto pages and pages of your life. Papering your memory and scrawled across every fragment of every moment the two of you shared. It's particularly difficult to set the stage for what comes next when you have so many voices calling out from the wings. Telling you what to do, what to think, what to feel. Because in the end, sure, they may have given you input and planted the idea, but ultimately you are the one responsible for your own actions. And despite what you'd do for anyone else, they are the sole owner of theirs. You can't fix regrets that haven't happened yet any more than you can fix the ones that have. Because no matter what anyone tells you, you won't know whether or not you'll regret an action until after the fact. Unless it's stupid. Then the obvious answer is be intelligent and steer clear of it. But here's the thing, I have no idea as to wether my present ideas are stupid or not...Do I stick around? I've always been the girl who hung on. I can hold out against anything. Really. I can. And I know I can. That's why I am able to make so many things work that other people have given up on. I'll fight with every bit of me for something because I KNOW that there is a solution and I can find it. But do I want to put up with all of this? I know I deserve better. And I know that what I had has the potential to be so much more...So do I hang on and hold out and hope for that?...I could do that. But. I have been through this before. And it doesn't matter how much effort I'm willing to put in if it's not a two way street. Indecision and a hesitance to make things right might just kill it all. Which would be a terrible shame. It's not the first time I've had a love so deep for something so flawed. I have also been told that "The girl worth having won't wait for anyone." And I'll be honest, I was always the girl that no one could have. I was free to do what I wanted when I wanted with whomever I wanted and I was strong enough and brave enough to do it on my own if necessary. You grounded me. It's true. But I'm not sure if that is still a good thing. 

Because oh, how I can fly...

*

I guess we'll see wether I go it alone or you help me pick us up, dust us off, and we become indestructible.

*

Because if we make it through this, nothing will be able to break us.

*
...

*

So.

*

We'll see.

*

I haven't quite decided.

*

Not yet.

*

Persuade me.

Drifting

Occasionally it is nice to have a plan. To know where you are going. What will come to you. At the moment, I think I've cut all the ropes...Nothing is tying me down anymore. And I never thought that I would be able to say that. But I can. I know what I want, ultimately. I just don't have any of the specifics anymore. And it's strange, as I worked so hard to hold on to them, but they seem to have all left me. I think I've accepted it now though. Weightless is different.

Horticulture and the Beast

In which the Beast will be portrayed by myself

And the horticulture speaks for itself.

Now, I am fully aware that this is an entirely separate childhood tale, but if by some spot of fortune and a well placed kiss my little plant were to turn into prince charming...I probably wouldn't mind. Though I'm not sure if I would feel like his destined love or previous respit care-giver...These things take time though, I suppose?

So. As you have probably gathered from the title and following photos, my mother is introducing me to the lovely art of horticulture. I've always enjoyed plants, and have had several in the past, but I have decided to try my hand at it on a higher level. Hopefully it goes better than my attempt with an orchid did. :P In my defense, I did live in a basement apartment with very little sunlight...But enough excuses. Basically, I have now repented of my sins and am going to try to bring joy and nutrients to the green things of this world! (No more orchids for a while though.)

Meet Massimo (I'm one of those people who names everything. It's fine,) my new and already beloved Dischidia Pectinoides, or, if you prefer, the Kangaroo Pocket/Ant Plant.

Dischidia Pectinoides is a perennial vine that is (according to my loving yet strict mentor, Google) native to the Philippines. It's supposed to develop little reddish blooms that will come and go throughout the year (oh hooray! I do so love a good bloom.) I was told that the plant is able to take some of the nutrients it needs from the large escargot shell it's planted in. (By the way, that is one HUUUUGE shell...Wonder how much nosh one could make out of a snail that size.........Hmm...Gross?)

On a more interesting note, when grown in the wild the pod that develops (giving it the nickname Kangaroo Pocket) actually provides a nest for ants (hence the title Ant Plant.) The plant and the colony then develop a symbiotic relationship, with the pod providing a safe home and the ants supplying the carbon dioxide. Neat-o. That being said, it won't draw out all of your household and neighborhood ants and take them in. Otherwise, Massimo and my landlord might just encounter a conflict of interest, despite his meaning well. 

I have a feeling that if he ever dies or even wilts a bit under my care I will feel like a failed parent. Tears will be shed, as I am apparently turning into my mother and I cry over EVERYTHING. (And that isn't an exaggeration...Maybe it's an exaggeration. But I NEVER used to cry over anything. What have I become? {I already answered that; my mother. I have become my mother. Joy.}) I'm sure you'll hear if it if he ever passes...though with luck, he shan't. And I now have to go pee...meaning this post is finished...finito....the end....Adieu. 

(For Now)

Betty Grable & John Payne "Still Crazy for You"

Separation

Control is a lie. We rarely have any over anything other than ourselves. And even that is something that isn't necessarily true. I don't know why and I don't know how and I don't know what exactly contributes to this, but I think that if you shift your focus, broaden or narrow, you learn to see. Once you can see things properly you are able to take them in your hands and, lovingly, turn them into something that speaks for you. I can't control my life. Not fully. I can't control who says and leaves, nor can I control what will happen to me. How the decisions of others will affect me and the world in which I live. But I will do my best to continue to live and love. We shouldn't base happiness off of something or someone, because people and things can be taken from us. Rather, we should be happy for no reason. That way, when it may seem that there is no reason, we still know how to smile.

Fallen From Grace

It takes a while. And maybe it's not fully time. But I'm here and I'm moving and it's good. The emotions come out like currents of air. Curling through the air as my spine arches, rolling off of the extension of fingertips and tipping to the ground to swirl around shifting, moving, tracing feet that aren't lost but wander just the same. Tolkien would be proud....

I can't compose my thoughts. You're everywhere and nowhere and while I'm full up inside with you the way our lives met, I feel every crevice, every gap, every space you left behind. Breathing is empty. Never full of the satisfactory rise and syncopated fall of double lungs. I'm breathing. And beating. Alive, but not fully. Not whole. Not really.

But wholly myself. With nothing detracting, and nothing distracting from every second that drops to the past during which I am only, solely, and absolutely just....This. One glittering, wet ink word on a page in a book too small to write a world but too big to hold me when I can't keep the corners of my lips wide up. And again and again and you're fine and I'll live and the days adding up we give weight to avoid having wasted with one other than The One. And the weighted words we exchanged as promises you now turn to trinkets you say have expired. For you, long ago. Though you fulfilled them up to now. So tell me. If you can. Please. How does this happen? Because to me, in all honesty, it feel like one day you woke up and decided to give up. And there's something that you're keeping from me. Something that you won't tell. And I can feel it. You know I can. And I know I can. Yet you're fine. You've moved on and you're ready to focus on you. Truth is, you did all along. You took and you took and you took and nothing was ever enough. Until you took the one thing you knew you shouldn't have. You taught me to breathe just to suffocate me. To watch as the air left my lungs and the light left my eyes as your hands pulled me close, wrung me dry. Is it easier to know that you've killed someone who you stopped loving before they stopped breathing? Step over the body and walk away, shrug out of the weight of a love you don't love and live farther than life can survive. You're alive.

Day Number {Whichever Number We're On}

Today...I got to see two great friends, including my best friend, introduced someone to Roo Panes, whom I adore, accidentally caused an accident by waving at the driver (no one was hurt, no cars were broken...still felt terrible) aced a mid-term, dressed up fancy because...no good reason, critiqued a dance, ate fish sticks, made tea because my throat hurt, drove to Manti with Ash to get something notarized, couldn't afford the pretty sparkly gold nail polish at Walmart (Yes, girly, girly, girly. I am aware) bid farewell to everyone as they left for the night, sat by myself listening to my music/shouting it to myself, dressed myself in...quite the get-up, photoboothed with me, snap-chatted the crap out of my friends (they'll live) cleaned my room, and I am now sitting on my bed, throat kills, kind of numb emotionally, but I'm watching Grimm...I shall need to find something new. Once I'm all caught up on this season...I won't know what to do with myself...Keeping me occupied has been a success so far...It's just exhausting.

Wishing For Rain As I Stand In the Desert

I never understood what it was like to really and truly feel there was somewhere I belonged and was completely safe until I met you...And now, in light of recent events, I wish with all my heart that I could relive the those moments. Because I don't know if I will ever be naive enough to genuinely return to that. 

...

..

.

It was like being a blind child all over again. It didn't matter if I was ten or ten thousand feet up, I knew you would catch me...

...

..

.

So when you didn't...I couldn't accept it. It wasn't real.

Sometimes it still isn't.

...

..

.

Not fully.

...

..

.

And I don't know which is worse

the fact that I broke...

or the fact that you tell me I'll be fine.

...

..

.

I will be fine.

I just wish you still had the desire to get me there.

And be there.

...

..

.

I can hold myself up.

I know that.

It's just nice to have someone to stand by.

...

..

.

And I know I'll find someone.

Someone who can do no wrong.

Someone incredible.

Like you were.

...

..

.

I will never be quite so unsuspecting again though.

I seem to have developed a fear of heights.

...

..

.

And I haven't even fully hit the ground yet.

Frozen Ballet

The nights are worse than the days are. And I think that perhaps if it were spring things wouldn't be quite so bad. I need to be able to run around without all of this heavy clothing weighing me down. Climb a cliff face, play in a lake and then sit in the grass. But without any green things turn a bit monotonous. I'm trying to fix it though. I wake up and smile for the first few minutes, just to jump start those stubborn endorphins. Even if I don't wake up perfectly happy, it's an attempt. Running. I need to go running again. Why oh why does it have to be so inconveniently cold. My asthma would love me so much if I were to waltz out into these temperatures and burst into sprinting like I do. No excuses though. I need to go, and that is that.

I skipped Italian yesterday. I always feel awful and guilty when I do that. But I actually am pretty sure we didn't have class. I simply didn't want to check and see for sure wether or not we did. And that counts as skipping, right? Ballet was good though. I love ballet. It's so calming and simple and people tell you exactly what to do, but you still have to work for it. 

Ballet is good. 

I have it again today. 

That's something to look forward to.

My Heavy Mind

There are those who grow young in the desert
Soft blooms with the wind in their sun strands of hair.
They shift the fine sands with bare feet found in wandering
across valleys and hills strewn with life, gilt with heat.
the moon's thin rays reach down to fade through the lashes
of eyes ringed with colors describing a soul.
There are those who grow young in the desert.
There are some who the deserts call home.

>>-------> Kill Me With Arrows <-------<<...{Please.}

Blog,

     Sometimes it is easy to sit and get out my emotional stress through more eloquently put words than these. But now is not one of those times.
I was fine earlier. Now...It sucks. Blog, my heart really hurts. Really. There's so much of it and I just want to  be able to walk outside and keep going through the sucky Utah winter night air until I'm numb with hypothermia. It's so easy to pretend to be happy and fine during the day when I'm around everyone else, because I can be focused on meeting their expectations and keeping them happy. But at night when I'm alone I feel it all over and over and wish I could just melt away forever.

Letter to Someone

Once upon a time a young fool invested significant amounts of her time, worry, hope, thought, care, willpower, physical effort, emotion, money, dreams, love, and everything else in securing a view of the world so fragile that it made stained glass windows look impossibly solid. Every time a flaw showed up she would try to fix it. Try to copy and paste, to bring back the flawlessly sleek finish it once had. But it's difficult to hold together a world made of splinters when all you have are your arms. So many different pieces of something so much bigger than the person I am. Hopelessly outnumbered, but I have to give it a try. Still, it always hurts to hear that your world isn't as lovely as you originally thought it was. Some friends aren't who they lead you to believe, family ties fray, lives get threatened, and old hurts get smacked around. But what I would really like to say is Thank you. I would have dropped to my knees, tipped over, and eventually stilled without the wonderful people who are willing to take me by the hand, and, with a smile, share their own versions of life with me.

I care for you so much more every day.

Comfortable

More Distractions

1. What's your favorite candle scent? Mocha Caramel Latte

2. What female celebrity do you wish was your sister? Audrey Hepburn, Ginger Rogers, or Emma Watson

3. What male celebrity do you wish was your brother? Sir Ian McKellen or Roo Panes

4. How old do you think you'll be when you get married? Old enough

5. Do you know a hoarder? My mother and father. Big time.

6. Can you do a split? Yes

7. How old were you when you learned how to ride a bike? About 5 or 6

8. How many oceans have you swam in? 1, and anticipating all of them.

9. How many countries have you been to? 2

10. Is anyone in your family in the army? Yes

11. What would you name your daughter if you had one? Rosemary Elizabeth (But I'd call her Rose or Rosie)

12. What would you name your son if you had one? Oliver Kent

13. What's the worst grade you got on a test? F(It was definitely Math)

14. What was your favorite TV show when you were a child? Courage the Cowardly Dog

15. What did you dress up as on Halloween when you were eight? A bag of jelly beans

16. Have you read any of the Harry Potter, Hunger Games or Twilight series? All three. I love Harry Potter like a brother and found the Hunger Games to be incredibly engaging. Twilight lacked substance though. Badly.

17. Would you rather have an American accent or a British accent? I think either.

18. Did your mother go to college? Yes. But only for a semester. Then she left for England.

19. Are your grandparents still married? Oh yes.

20. Have you ever taken karate lessons? No.

21. Do you know who Kermit the frog is? Of course.

22. What's the first amusement park you've been to? Knotts Berry Farm

23. What language, besides your native language, would you like to be fluent in? Well, I'm currently learning Italian, but after that, Khmer, the language of Cambodia.

24. Do you spell the color as grey or gray? Grey

25. Is your father bald? He has a very full head of hair, actually.

26. Do you know triplets? Probably.

27. Do you prefer Titanic or The Notebook? Eh. I don't like romantic movies incredibly well, particularly melancholy romantic movies.

28. Have you ever had Indian food? Indeed I have.

29. What's the name of your favorite restaurant? Sakura...Or Hibachi House.

30. Have you ever been to Olive Garden? Yes, yes.

31. Do you belong to any warehouse stores (Costco, BJ's, etc.)? No, unfortunately.

32. What would your parents have named you if you were the opposite gender? Jeremy

33. If you have a nickname, what is it? Jess, Bumler, Zoe, Jehkessah, Jessie-cat, Butt

34. Who's your favorite person in the world? Probably Princess Belle.

35. Would you rather live in a rural area or in the suburbs? Rural. I need space to run.

36. Can you whistle? Yes, but I hate whistling unless it's my grandpa. He has the most beautiful whistle in the world. And I am dead serious about that.

37. Do you sleep with a nightlight? Yes

38. Do you eat breakfast every morning? Not every.

39. Do you take any pills or medication daily? Yes

40. What medical conditions do you have? Plenty.

41. How many times have you been to the hospital? Enough

42. Have you ever seen Finding Nemo? Yup

43. Where do you buy your jeans? Wherever I find a nice and comfortable pair I can afford.

44. What's the last compliment you got? I was told by someone that I am a genuinely good person.

45. Do you usually remember your dreams in the morning? Vividly

46. What flavor tea do you enjoy? Bengal Spice or Orange Blossom Hibiscus

47. How many pairs of shoes do you currently own? 15

48. What religion will you raise your children to practice? LDS

49. How old were you when you found out that Santa wasn't real? I was in fourth grade.

50. How many times have you been in love? Twice.

Dear Blog,

     I really desperately want to die of the plague. I can't do this.

Sick to Death Styracosaurus {Without Health Insurance}

Dear Blog,

.....Today sucks. It is awful. And I want it to be over. And the next day. And the next. And the day after that one. And after that. And the next. Until....I don't know when. Someone fix me.

 I feel like this...

Yep.

...

Something odd and out of place and about to become extinct, therefore, quite lonesome.

His whole family is probably dead or lost in the mess of the dying cretaceous period. 

This is it.

Minus the pretty outdoors and serene forest-y light.

Put the guy in a half frozen, slightly melty, crusty, muddy, too bright tundra and you'll be closer. The lights are probably the terrible florescent kind that flicker.

Even better, once he's there, surround him by cheery people and make him do paperwork. Or tell him to fix a printer that he doesn't even know how to operate.

With nail trimmers.

And have someone kindly check up on him every hour or so, to see if he's doing alright.

But he's not really the sort of dinosaur to let on that things in his life are a little bit crap.

He'll just keep it to himself and do his best to fix the fetching printer.

I hate printers.

And today.

______________________________________bye.______________________________________

Roo Panes

I love Roo Panes' music so much. It's been the soundtrack to my Christmas break. 

And the gentleman who created this video is positively brilliant.