Huh. There might be a reason to some things.

Sometimes I stare at my screen and come across pictures of men that look like this. I then go on to think that it is very possible he likes women. I am a woman. There could be more that are like him that also like women. I AM A WOMAN. I think there's a chance. There has to be! There's a chance for me!

…but then I remember that my existence is reason enough for there being no chance. 

A Beatle! *squash*

OH NO I KILLED RINGO.

hahahaha.

Boy I am just so funny.

Ah hem. Right then. Now for the main topic of conversation today on blog post #3 OF THE WEEK. Oh boy I'm just killing it. I went from never posting to posting too much, so much that you're probably behind on my most recent blog posts, huh? Well I'll catch you up.

1. Bringing it back
2. Lonely forever
3. The Beatles

Now.

I've always been a Beatles fan. Always. But my friend sort of reintroduced them to me recently. I'd forgotten they were there and now I can't stop listening to their music. I CAN'T STOP HELP HELP HELP (I need somebody...not just anybody...you know I need somebody)

hahaha. no don't. Man I am on a ROLL.

It all began...

When I was in fourth grade my eyes were opened into the brilliant world of The Beatles. Unfortunately, I think back then I was too young to fully understand how powerful music is, because now I would argue that it is straight up one of the most powerful entities in this world. Right up there with the College Board tests, and One Direction.

I loved them. I was obsessed with them. I craved their music. My best friend at the time, Zel, had their records (yes records, not cds. That's how I was introduced to The Beatles. Amazing right?) and she taught me how to truly appreciate their music. She even showed me their movies, Help, Hard Days Night and Yellow Submarine. For all those who are going THEY MADE MOVIES *ppeeewwwssh* < - - the sound of brain exploding guts, the answer is yes, and they are hilarious.

I was equally in awe and terrified by the song Eleanor Rigby, I think we all know why.

ANYWAYS. Zel and I went to three different Beatles Tribute band concerts. Rain, 1964, and then we stood outside the Sandy amphitheater as another one played behind the gates. They played and we blindly danced and screamed, unaware as to if the cover band even LOOKED like the Beatles. Because if they didn't have a left handed bass player, well then pshh, whatever. They are posers. Wannabes. Leave now forever you stupid stupidheads. 

You get it.

I will have you know the most recent of these concerts was two years ago. Beatles makes friendship a lifelong bond. Do you hear me? DO YOU EFFING HEAR ME?!

She had this poster of The Beatles and one day we took it to school to make a copy of it for me. Because we were both children of faculty members we got all the behind the scene copier action.

Ohhh it was a rough and dangerous world behind the front desk of our school. Unsupervised staplers, permanent markers, and if we were lucky, we'd find the stamps (you know the ones that you could change the dates and stuff?). Ya. Needless to say, we got pretty rebellious. Sometimes we'd even go into the faculty lunch room and steal soda from the soda machines that were ONLY FOR TEACHERS...but nobody says no when you say you are getting the drink for your faculty parent.

MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

So she had this poster...and I'll try to speed this post up, because honestly who even cares?...and we copied it into four pieces. John, Paul, George, and Ringo were each 12x17 inches worth of paper. I went home, after shoving those papers in my backpack, and taped the pictures onto my door.

It's been over a decade and those four pieces of paper are still taped there on my door. They've been ripped by snags of backpacks, or laundry baskets, or teeth, or my witch's talons. Well okay, the point is that that poster on my door has been around longer than some friendships. It's been around since I began to understand the power that music has.

It's been around since before I had summer dating person.
It's been around since before I could sleep without the lights on.
It's been around since before I chipped my teeth, or asked random people for condoms, or played in my first soccer game, or went through eighth grade (WHICH WAS THE WORST OF TIMES).

And I think it'll be there until after I introduce my kids to The Beatles.


SENTIMENTALITY.
Aint it just great?

*UPDATE
I tried to find a picture of what my poster looks like and it was literally NOT THERE. I think I have the last known copy of it. I could make millions off of my decade old, black and white copy paper, copy!
Well except for this. I found this. This is my poster, just without the weird puzzle piece looking things.

I didn't finish my essay, but look I can make a paper crane!

Every time I try to be productive more an more reasons to not be productive come out of the woodwork. It sucks, I'll just go ahead and tell you that right now, especially because the ladder always wins.

Now for a story!

I like guys. Or at least so far I like guys...

Little did you all know, I dated one of these said "guys" over the summer.  Okay okay. Try to hold back your look of surprise and shock. YES. Okay!? Yes. I, Jeannie, have dated a male and we even kissed. We even SKYPED once.

Back up off me.

So anyways....
*pause*
I don't even remember what story I was going to tell now. Maybe I just wanted to get the information that I dated someone out there. Maybe I secretly had no story to tell, I just wanted to brag about my recent escapades into the territory titled "relationships".

My recent, yet my extremely distant escapades.

Am I lonely? No no. I can't be. My Aragorn poster hangs above me every night as I drift off into a world that usually consists of zombie's and sometimes celebrities that are my best friends.

And what's that over on yonder wall to keep me from solitude? Oh, can that be Tina Fey proudly looking down on me as I live my life in accordance to her will? Yes master, bring you donuts from store? But how can you eat, you are only pap....yes yes of course master, I will go get the donuts.

Plus I have a roommate! So I am never alone!
Sorry readers, one sec.

Hey pal! Ready for the day and to go on some adventure and to spend some great quality time together?! Just let me finish this blog post an...
*wseseseeshsheks*
Oh. Okay you sure? No no! I didn't have any big plans for us. *quickly shoves picnic basket and candles out of view*
*wsheseseseksk*
Ya of course. Tell boyfriend I say hi. *forced smile*

Hi readers....I'm back...

I dunno if you heard, but she has boyfriend and I have computer.

Computer is all I need though, computer and Tina Fey.
I actually don't want a significant other. I'm single and ready to be single forever!

COMPUTER AND INTERNETS


*disclaimer* Roommate is fun and boyfriend is fun too, I have nothing against either of them.

It's me! I'm here! I'm alive! But don't be expecting too much, this post is rough.

Yet another season of college soccer has come to an abrupt end. This being so, I have come to find that I have loads of on time on my hands. Too much time. So much so that it is actually slipping through my fingers and landing on the ground with an overpowering "kapowwwe" and not because of how sweaty my hands are, although that would be an accurate guess.

I'm not going to go into detail about this past season, because that would take too much of my already slippery time. Let's just say that it included some of the happiest moments of my career, but also some of the most gut-wrenching and painful times. Yet I prevail!

I'm still standing, or I guess right now I'm sitting. But I'm still living, and I STILL EXIST.
I know you had been questioning that fact.

"Oh no. There's this blogger I followed last year named Jeannie. She was the funniest, prettiest, most level-headed human ever. She possessed all the qualities of a million super-models while also remaining completely humble, despite the fact she was really really really really really really really really pretty and funny. Ya.

But she stopped blogging! She just stopped! No rhyme or reason, she was just over it an...."

OKAY I get it. This is not my best blog post. I realize I probably should've written something that contained romance, innocence, and a dinosaur or something, ya know to captivate my lost audience. But in all honesty, life has just kinda been life. 

I am, however, excited to start this part of my life again. Because at the end of the day, even when life is boring and nothing is going on, I can write about an experience that was mediocre and completely embellish it with a million billion hyperboles to maybe make you guys giggle as well as get me to totally believe in a false experience.

Hurray for lying!

Just remember. I am back.
Also.

I am WO-man. I strong. I like fire and boulders that big.

My Lamp is on. In the middle of the day.

It's the most wonderful of days.

I'm just here sitting in my underwear and a long sleeve shirt, blasting Lana Del Rey, and writing. The rain is pounding, thunder can still be heard over my music, and my tea is cooling.

I played in the rain with my dog for twenty minutes. I jumped in puddles in my bare feet. I waved to my neighbors as they looked at me like I was insane, which I might have been, at least for a couple minutes. But the good kind of insane. The kind that makes everything fade away and all that matters is whatever is right there in front of you.

I finally get the whole metaphor with water and rain and the idea of rebirth. Because rain does that to a person. It washes away who you are. The good parts and the bad. It doesn't care you past or your future, it just puts you right there in the moment, leaving it up to you to decide who you want to be.

And then you are free. Free to dance in the rain. Or cry in the rain. Or smile in the rain. Or sit in the rain. Or learn from the rain. Or hide from the rain. Or let the rain hide you.

The harder the rain pours, the freer you are.

And today, the rain is falling the hardest it's fallen in awhile.

Summer Baby!

I'm an Extrovert.

But this summer is turning me into and Introvert.

And it's the worst.

Challenges.

There is no greater challenge than putting away the dishes in somebody else's house.

No. Greater. Challenge.

Especially while children are sleeping.

Mom? MOM!

I should probably dedicate this post to my mother. I should probably do that.

I should probably do that seeing as it's a National day. Turns out Mother's Day is not just one of those holidays that only people in Utah celebrate like the 24th of July (Pioneer Day) or Ash Wednesday. No. This holiday is huge. 

So here's this.

Happy Mother's Day Ma! Love you with all of my being.

But also. If on this day you do not have a mother to say those words to, or your mother is not there to hear everything you wish you could tell her, or whatever your personal reason is, just take a second and find someone else in this world that makes you a better person and thank them for doing that.

Mother's day isn't about being a literal "mother". A mother isn't only the person who gave birth to you, although I guess that is one definition. A mother is the one who teaches you, watches you, knows you, and loves you unconditionally no matter what she might know about you. *gulp*

So maybe your form of mother is a father, or an aunt, or a grandma, or a godparent, or a neighbor, or a cat. Who knows! It's up to you to decide. But whoever you decide it is, remember it's Mother's Day, so tell them you love them. 

And for those with two moms, well you might just be the luckiest ones out there. 

Count it! Count it all!

I just bought me a new harmonica! Or as the pros say, a new harp.
(Do the pros say that?)

Thus begins day three of my adventurous summer. It's going well thus far. However I am going to keep a tally, of the things I want most this summer.

0 Black Eyes (that's eyes. not guys. The phrase "I want a black eye" has been misinterpreted one too many times)

0 Bends on the harmonica (although with my new one in the mail, I have a feeling that is gong to change quickly)

0 Stories/Scripts written (but that is about to change. Come tomorrow my whole world will be productive)

0 Dollars made (So far. So far!)

1 set of 4 Pack abs

0 of a six pack

0 Miles run

0 Summer kisses under the stars and the moon (......it'll probably stay that way)

1 pack of skittles

6 hours of movies on netflix

I'm just going to stop there. If anything fantastic happens, I will blog about it! It will be tallied at the end of my blog, so there will be a story, blah blah blah and what not. Then at the end. There will be a tally mark!

For example:

4 plays of the song "Kiss You" by One Direction in a row today.

Good day my friends.

UPDATE**
6 now

*Giant Sigh*

It's my first day of summer!

Well actually yesterday was my first day of summer, but I spent the whole day packing and then getting hustled in bowling. Oh joy.

I'm home now. Home home. The Sandy home where the world is at my fingertips! I can have it all! I'm done with my freshman year of college and the opportunities are endless!

Well actually I've been home for three hours and I'm bored out of my EFFING MIND. It's only 7:44, and my body is used to going to bed around three, but there is nothing to do, but my body won't probably shut off till around three, so if anybody has any ideas of what I can do for the next seven hours (no I didn't have to count on my hands to get that number) then let me know!

I will literally take anything. I just need human slash social interaction. I'm used to having people in and out of my dorm room 24/7, or just going next door to see Maris and Lexie whenever I got bored. But now. NOW?!

I'm dying. Inside. And out.

But I'm going to blog. Every day. Or almost. Because I've got nothing else to do, huh? Except for run and try to get in shape, but who am I kidding? I'm going to eat skittles all day and blog, like I think I was born to do.

I am however proctoring AP tests next week, for money. I get to watch people suffer for money. Now that is what I think I was born to do.

Ambiguous Title.

In one week from today I will be done with my first year of college.

I don't really have anything else to say about that. Nothing funny. Nothing poetic. Simply that it'll be done and gone.

That's weird, because my dorm room is what I refer to as "home" now. But next year my home will change again. Even in a week my home will change, because I will never ever live in this room that I'm sitting in right now ever again.

Also. Did anybody else notice that done and gone are a letter off but they don't rhyme or anything fun? That's a sure bummer.

I could've had so much fun with that.

I hope to blog every day in summer times. Or at least every other. Who knows! Maybe I'm just saying that and I plan to never blog again.

Muhahahah!

I know. I know.

I really suck at blogging these days. But when the day comes where I have time to write again, you'll be so amazed with all my stories (and all my non-stories because I'm too busy to even have stories!). Ohh man. The stories I have.

They'll get you.

But I just needed to take 5 minutes and blog to mention the fact I am sitting at my counter, attempting to work on my emcee script (ah yes! One of those stories I mentioned before), as well as my English research paper outline (which is a beast if I ever saw one). And what is distracting me?

Five people have locked themselves in my room and are belting Les Mis. while watching the lyrics on the computer. I'm experiencing my very own Les Mis. Karaoke.

Right now it's "On My Own". Before that it was "I Dreamed a Dream".

It's fun for me. To hear this. To hear them. *cough sarcasm cough*

I would yell something like, "JUST STOP ALREADY OHMYGOSH. You're RUINING THE SONG.  and my LIFE."

But, the reason I can't do that is because last week I was locked in their room doing the exact same thing. We may have even filmed it (but then it got deleted...Amy...)

They're beautiful. Those hoarse, cracking, somewhat manly voices are what make my world go round. So keep it up kids. I don't care if I fail my paper.

Keep. It. Up.

It's Springbreak.

And all the sudden I can breath again! But not too deeply, because the air quality sucks. Like a whole bunch.

All I know is that these past couple weeks have been insanely insane. Life is happening. How cliche is that eh? But it is! And it's happening fast. I can't believe it. And I can't believe I only have two more months of school.

Enough with that!

I just thought I'd drop by my own blog and say hello. How ya doing? Good? Good.

If you're reading this it means you've stuck with me through my dry spell. If you're not reading this then you're really missing out! I mean, I could be being the funniest person right now and you would never know! I could be offering giving the best life advice anybody could have ever asked for and you'd be missing it. MISSING IT.

So I'm just blogging real quick to remind you guys that I exsist. (I like how I talk like there are plural readers out there. There was at one point. A girl can dream)

This will become more regular once I get back to school. I'll figure out how to balance my life. With little sleep of course, but it will get balanced. Mark my words.

Until then, I leave for Hawaii in the morning! And I have two new books to take with me and I've never been so excited!

Well. I'm going to go Whale watching and visit the observatory, and probably get sunburnt from looking out a window. Enjoy break! Love you all (except you. you know who you are. Watch yourself)

Dun Dun Dun Dun! (Like from Superman or something)

I have a dream.  That one day this nation will rise up and live out...

Jeannie that is not your dream!

Well. No. But I mean, had I been alive at the time I sure hope that would've been my dream!
But you see, this is beside the point. We're so far off topic I don't even know how to get back! I left bread crumbs and everything to follow back. Well not so much bread crumbs as I left bits of dirt and leaves in my wake to help me get back to the start.

Jeannie. You realize we are in the forest and that is literally pretty much the only two things that forests are made up of. 

So I'm not going to find my way back even if we hadn't gotten so far off topic that I don't even know how to get back?

No.

There's no hope?

No.

Well. Seeing as there is no hope, why not share a story!
Everyone gather round. Please. All the woodlin creatures and all. The trolls and goblins. And...wait. Is that Rumplestilskins? 

JUST STOP.

Okay. So I don't really have a story. It's just 1:00 am and I can't seem to find the energy to get to sleep. (How's that for an oxymoron. Eh?) I have class in t-minus 6 hours, so I figure, why not just get ready for it. Do my hair. Put on a little make-up. Shave my legs. Write a pulitzer-prize winning novel. Maybe even bring my old dog Rudy back to life. (*sudden inale* Too soon. Too soon)

Boy who am I kidding. That's preposterous! Six hours won't be enough time to shave the hair I got on my legs. 

In practice, we have to grab a partner, sit across from each other, and stretch each other's calfs. By doing so, you push and pull against each other. Naturally, I take this to be a sort of challenge against a willing foe. Kind of like we're in a ring of fire, (the one that Johnny Cash sings of, you know?) and we're battling to the death. 

My trainer walked by and heard my grunts and my "you haven't got me this time. This time. I will be champion!"...s. His only response was. 

"I feel like I could leave you in the woods with only a match and a glow stick and you could entertain yourself for weeks".

And you know what I have to say about that?

Challenge. Accepted. 

Well there you have it.

I did it! I tried to be all deep like. It's a bad mentality, but I feel like poems are suppose to be all meaningful and not really understood by anybody but the author....(okay okay so that's not true, but I hope you all can understand the meaning behind my poems!)

Who knows why we do the things we do. Who knows why I decided to write a poem for every day of the week. 

I DO!  

No you don't inner-emotional-thoughts...no you don't. 

That poetry class I'm taking has really screwed me over. Now I'm all poetically minded and thinking in metaphors and iambic tetrameter and what not. It's a hassle. Instead of just thinking, "wow! It's pretty cold outside today. I can even see my breath!", my mind is all annoying and goes.

The frost upon my window sill

Recalled the thoughts of days gone by

When breath was seen in midnight air

It was the night my lover died. 

*scratches head and crinkles eyebrows* You know. I actually spent a lot of time on those last four lines. Like. 15 minutes. Just to prove a point. 

JUST TO PROVE A POINT. 

Anyways. Maybe I'll do something like it again. But hopefully it's a bit more lighthearted and not so, 

"Here's poetry! Read it and learn of the inner-thoughts that plague Jeannie's mind daily"

Actually that's not fair.

I actually really enjoyed writing these poems. Hmm. Maybe I"ll be a poet. 

I'm a poet

And I didn't even know...

I'm not going to finish that, just to see you all squirm

            

Sundays

Sundays I get lost in music.
I pull the covers to my chin
And open my blinds to stare
Forward into a world only I
          Can really see

It's Sundays when the music sings
Of a world bigger than I know
And as I fall asleep I feel lost
But I feel lost knowing that tomorrow
          I'll feel wise once again

Saturdays

Saturdays I have a lightsaber.
It waits above my bed, day by day
Lying across my Harry Potter scarf
Aching to fight the evil my week
             Has created

So it's on Saturdays I get to
Grab on to the one thing that's
Brave enough to attack my
Anxieties and really let me
            Be a kid again

Fridays

Fridays I'm watchful.
Two elderly men wave hello
Through steamed up car windows
Both wanting to share more words
         But they stare forward

Waiting for the next Friday
Where they'll both wave
Hello through the same
Steamy windows as if last Friday
         Never even happened.
   

Thursdays

Thursdays I feel collegey.
I pretend to laugh at jokes
I don't quite understand then
I sit and do homework
        For hours on end

Until Thursday nights
While doing that never-ending
Homework, I finally understand
That joke and I really laugh
        For hours on end

Wednesdays

Wednesdays I have a laugh rash.
The red, dry parenthesis
That start from my nose and curve
Down to where my mouth stops
         But apparently my smile doesn't

But it's also Wednesdays
That I realize, while my laugh
rash may need lotion, nobody
Can doubt, for a second
         That I don't laugh

Tuesdays

Tuesdays I cross the line.
Well I more leap over it.
But I never look back
Because if I did, I might just
         Regret my leap

See, Tuesdays are when I refuse
To stand still long enough
To acknowledge a line
That I believe was meant
         To be crossed

Mondays

Mondays I feel wise.
Then Tuesdays I remember I'm not
But there's a solid 24 hours
Where I think I can solve
         Any problem

But then Tuesday comes
And I remember what it's like
To have no answers
For anybody
        Not even myself

If you wonder why I'm majoring in English.

My Tuesdays and Thursdays are the absolute worst.

They begin at the ass-crack of dawn. No wait! Before the ass-crack of dawn. It's like the anti-ass-crack. Like the morning is wearing a belt or something and you're just waiting for the morning to bend over so you can finally see that ass-crack you've been longing for. Then it finally does bend over, but that damn belt is keeping that ass from showing any crack!

Say crack one more time.
Crack.

I get up at 5:45 AM and am out the door by 5:55. Dani, Sara, and I slowly slouch around our dorm room, pouring ourselves bowls of cereal, applying deodorant that we know in the end will do absolutely nothing, and staying silent.

We literally don't say words to each other. If we need to communicate, we do so in grunts.

Dani: Uhhh.
Sara: Hhuu-gg
Jeannie: Mhhmmgg.

Translation:
Dani: Don't forget your key this time Jean.
Sara: Dan, we gotta make sure your car doesn't have any ice on it this time.
Jeannie: Mhmmgg.

We're like cavewomen.

Then we meander into our early morning lifting session. We start the lift off with finding our heart rate. Wait. I should actually say we start the lift off by all of us struggling to find our heart rate. Turns out some people on my team are the walking dead. Zombies if you will. Both literally (because of the extremely bad counting of heart beats that leads to deathly low heart rates) and figuratively (because it's six in the effing morning)

Whatever whatever. I try to pull some jokes. Give people high fives. Ya know. Brighten the spirits of my teammates in the morning. Turns out. People don't laugh or return high-fives in the morning. People are evil in the mornings.

THEY HAVE NO SOULS. I seen it. I can attest to it. I swear to you with all my powerful thoughts and beliefs...

So then we lift. Lots of weights. Lots and lots. To the point where, at the end, I forget how to walk and my legs just kind of turn to this spaghetti  type feeling. I think they actually look like wobbly, cartoon legs. That aint no hyperbole. Honest!

Then the lifting is over. I grab my free milk and head over to the bus for my 7:30 Math class.
Don't worry. My day is just getting started.

As Jenn, Shay, and I sit on the bus, we talk in volumes that should not be heard in the morning. But seeing as we've been up for 2 hours all ready. Frankly my dear, we don't give two shits. Everyone glares at us, sure. I would too if I heard three girls laughing and saying any words at all in the morning like that. We may be inconsiderate, but hay there. We have fun.

After Math I have poetry.
I've fallen asleep in the past 3 poetry classes. But the subtle sleep where it just looks like I'm blinking for a ridiculous amount of time.

"Oh sorry. Right no. My eyes are just really dry from this inversion that we've been having up here. So I need to blink for extra long to make sure my eyeballs get all the moisture that is needed in a healthy, 18 year-old girl's life.....Oh you thought I was sl..? No no! Of course not! The rhyme scheme utilized in John Donne's "Death, be not proud" is so very intriguing! I would NEVER sleep through that!"

Then I have English 2010. Which is actually one of the highlights of my day. My teacher is fantastic in the whole, "I'm going to swear and be an awesome person because these kids are college kids and should know what things are" type mentality.

Then off to Folklore. Where we talk about ghosts. That's about it. End of story. Ghosts. How they came to be in stories. Why. Who. What. Your mom. When. And so on. Plus my teacher's name is Jeannie, so ya know. We be tight.

So then I return home at about 2:00.

BUT. The main reason I brought all this up to you is because I'm an English major. I have lots of English classes. My Tuesdays and Thursdays consist of 3 English classes. 3 classes where I have to write essays and do what I really love to do: Make. Shit. Up.

In poetry one day, a girl was struggling with the meaning behind a line in the poem.

"I don't think I really understand the meaning behind this. I'm not sure what the author is trying to convey."

Then the best advice I've ever heard came out of my professor's mouth. One that I will pass down for generations. To my kid. Then to the neighbor's kid. Then to their cat (if she will sit still and listen to me! My word...)

"Ya. You just kind of have to make it up."

Done. Everything is done.

Screw you Math and Bio majors. When you get an F on a test for putting 13.3 instead of 13.4, I'm sitting over here saying.

"The meaning behind Dickinson's poem 'Wild Nights' is focused on her sexuality. Or committing suicide. Or just rowing away on a boat because she got in a fight with somebody. Or becoming a sailor.  Or fighting off dinosaurs. Or giving a piggy-back ride to Jabba The Hutt's dancer person that gets sent down the hole to be eaten by the monster that Luke eventually defeats"

And you know what my grade would be?

An A.

Po. Bev. The place of all places.

I read a story at Po. Bev. this past Saturday.

What is Po. Bev you ask? Let me explain to you! It's short for Poetry and a Beverage. You go and there is a giant gathering of people like you, unlike you, afraid of you, and more welcoming then words can even say. You all wait in line, get a free mug (mine was yellow) and fill it with hot chocolate,  then you listen to people bare their soul. Or sing a song. Or just do anything really.

It is a fantastic place to be.

It's like an open-mic slash talent show thingy. Anyways. I really wanted to read a story I wrote at the last one they had. It was back in November at some point. BUT. My story was far too long, and I was upset.

I vowed from that day on that I would get up and actually read at the next one.
So I did just that.
And I have amazing friends that came and supported me and I'd be nowhere in my life without these people.

I wrote back on my friend Hannah's blog, way back in August, so I just took that story, edited it, and preformed it in front of a live-studio-audience. A laugh track and all! (but not really, 'cept I think people still laughed, and they weren't even forced to!)

So I will treat you all to the story I presented.
Also remember how I suck at posting? Ya I remember that too. So much for those new shoes eh? EH?

I talked to the same people for 11 straight years. That's over a decade. A decade of saying the same stories over and over again to the same people. Sometimes there were new people, but they were the weird kids. The kids that weren’t there when the rest of us were all growing up together. I started as young Waterford, then I grew into puberty Waterford and then finally I hit what-am-I-doing-with-my-life Waterford. But young Waterford was the best. My first friend there came about with a conversation like this:

"You dress like a boy? I do too!"

That was Sydney. We were best friends since day one. And we stayed best friends right up until the time that she stopped dressing like a boy and I didn’t. We didn't stop being BFF's because she stopped dressing like a boy, I promise that wasn't the reason. I think it dealt mainly with the fact that instead of talking about which dinosaur we were going to act like next, or instead of staying up past our bedtimes just to say “ya last night we stayed up till 11:30, we’re pretty rebellious”, the conversation shifted to something much more time consuming. Boys. God's gift to the world. Funny enough, we didn't acknowledge God's gift as God’s gift until we were about 12 years old. When the breasts came. Oh boobs. They changed the whole game.

But the point is mainly this: The same people have been with me through every step of my life thus far. Elliot was the first person I met at Waterford. And Elliot was the last person I hugged the day I left for college. He was there every day. But Elliot's not here anymore? That can't be right.

I was safe. I was so safe. And I always felt safe. Ya know, the type of safe you feel when you get into your bed after a long day. Ya. That. I had authority. I knew where I stood. I knew my friends. And I knew who I was....well I knew who high school Jeannie was.

But then BANG POW ZOOM! Out of no where time is gone and college is here and I'm sleeping in a bed that doesn't offer the same safety my last one offered and I can't go into my mama's room and talk to her and I can't howl at the moon with my dog anymore and I don't know anyone and then all the sudden I'm terrified that high school might be as good as it gets. 

So I felt sorry for myself when I first moved away. I was scared and I pitied myself for it. I put on a brave face, tried to make people laugh, and hid it well enough. I cried, sure, who doesn't when change happens. Not full out bawling with the snot trail and everything, but the subtle "oh no I just yawned" crying. 

But then I realized. What's the point? I'm growing up and that's okay. We can't know what's going to happen or where we're going and the hard-to-grasp knowledge is that it's okay! In fact. It's necessary. 

I'm figuring it out. Slowly, but I really think I am. I'm putting myself out there. I don’t wanna be safe anymore. I want to experience moments unlike any I’ve had in the past 11 years. I’m gonna be me. Who cares what people say, because I'm gonna be me. I'm college Jeannie. 

Besides. New people means I can start telling all my stories again, and it is about damn time. 

It's a new year!

Holy Hell this is my 100th post! I'm acknowledging it, but I'm not going to celebrate it until my 101th post, because I've got some 'splaining to do.

Alright!

I'm sorry. Things have been slow. My ability to blog at a consistent pace has significantly slowed down. But to be fair, I just had my first week of my second semester of college things. It's going to be a long semester, that is for sure.

The point is, I will honestly do my best to blog, I'll give it, 3-4 times a week. I will stay consistant! I must.

And in return for my writings, and in return for your patience, at the end of this January month, I will buy myself a pair of shoes, (you honestly don't know how bad I need a new pair. The one pair I have now I've had since 8th grade, and I got them at a Thrift Shop, so who knows how long they've been around!)

And and and for you, I will treat you to a Jeannie original. A story that comes straight from the heart. Whether it will be funny or sad or happy or make you hungry, I guess you will just have to wait and see. But it will be an intense piece of writing. One that maybe I'll turn into a competition or something.

Sidenote*
I watched Silver linings Playbook, and it might be one of my favorite movies by a long shot. Like. I loved it so so much.

I WILL BE FRIENDS WITH JENNIFER LAWRENCE. So help me.

I get anxious over how much I want to be in that world. ANXIETY IS TAKING OVER MY BODY.
(it's almost like aliens, but not exactly)

1/3/2012 *scratches out the 2 and puts a 3*

Don't you have to do that? When I start taking notes again in class I always put the wrong year at first. Out of habit. Muscle memory. Brainwash. Along those lines.

So I didn't make a full out list of resolutions. Mainly I just go with...

It's 2013 mothaeffers! Do what you want! PARTAY. I'm in college so Imma live up all that shiz!

Anyways. It's a new year. And I have some resolutions, but they're annoying so I'm not going to share them with you folks.

FINE. You convinced me. I'll share my resolutions with you.

1. Finish my movie. Really finish it. Make a script. Do something. Don't just let it sit there anymore.

2. Get out of my own head. Instead, go somewhere exciting. Like the park. Or a food store.

3. Write in my journal about everything. Things I think and things that need to be remembered. But write in the new journal you got for Christmas. Aka: Tom Marvolo Riddle's diary. (a replica)

4. Don't lose things anymore. For example your wallet. Stop losing that. And your phone.

5. Finish a book every one or two weeks. That way you can act like you know everything. Because you will.

6. Adventures. Have them a lot. Start to make memories that you can tell your kids. In other words...

7. Be creative to a point of no return. (ahhhhh too much creativity!)


So there you go! You happy now!?
Gosh. Just. Leave me be.

Or you can call me. *brings extended pinky and thumb to ear and winks*