Ear Plugs

I wrote this 152 days ago, per Google Drive.  I’m not really sure what to do with it so here:

With ear plugs in, I listen to my heart beating.  I hear the sounds of nothing, white noise trapped in my head and bouncing around through my brain.  I block you out, the outside world.  Let me sleep.  Let me hear nothing but what makes me live.  I stand up slowly and move with sweeping motions.  I’m not underwater but observe my fluidity and you might think otherwise.   I crack my neck, the loudest pops you’ve ever imagined, the white noise inside of my skull interrupted briefly by the crisp snaps of my vertebrae. I don’t want to fucking hear you right now.  I know you’re out there and now is not the time for your noise.

At some point in the night, I wake up.  I hear you.  My nosey brain coerced my hands to remove the plugs from my ears at some point in the night.  Brain, you son of a bitch.  Making a grand gesture, a gesture of supposed freedom, when I’m not paying attention.  I hear cars revving their engines, the over compensatory call of the wild.  I hear girls who drank too much on a weeknight wailing for their friend, boyfriend, anyone.  I hear an unknown neighbor fucking above me and feel dirty and curious.

The next day I’ll get my revenge on my stupid brain by forcing a different kind of ear plug into my ears.  These ear plugs will assault my brain with the sounds I love, lulling my brain into an unsuspecting state of bliss.  Occasionally I’ll want to dance but I’ve got somewhere to be, and don’t trust my fellow pedestrians to move fast enough out of my way, nor will this body be able to conjure the Astaire-like moves I wish it would.  It is almost time for me to fucking hear you.  I know you’re out there and now is not quite yet the time for your noise.

After a while, I wake up.  I now have to hear you.  My foolish brain has now been tricked, from dancing in my skull to walking into a tall, angry building.  Brain, you son of a bitch.  Focusing on numbers and words that it wouldn’t give a shit about if it never had to see them again.  Pulling its weight and paying my bills.  Reminding me to smile when talking on the phone.  Reminding me to be friendly and courteous.  I know you’re out there, and now, you may make noise.

Letters to Sandwiches: Bánh mì

I don’t even know where to begin.  You’re just really intimidating to me, Bánh mì.  I want to try you.  I want to know what you’re all about.  I’ve heard nothing but amazing things about you and know of several restaurants in the area where apparently, you’re quite amazing.

You have too many ingredients on you that I typically would not want anywhere near a sandwich, or well…most meals.  Cilantro?  No.  Bánh mì, perhaps you don’t know this, but I detest cilantro.  Hot Peppers?  Most of that idea makes me uncomfortable.  Peppers and I have some issues, and I have my spicy and not quite so spicy days. Pickled carrot?  Ok I might be down with that.  Pickled daikon? I don’t even know. I’m sorry.  I think I’ve had pickled daikon before, but I’m not 100% sure.

Considering my slow return to meat , I’m still a bit iffy but I get nervous when works like “head cheese” and “pork floss” get tossed around re: your general ingredients.  I know what head cheese is, Bánh mì, but pork floss?  I can only assume. I assume it is delicious, but my desire for knowledge ends there.

I want to know what love is. I want you to show me.

I believe that, unless we’re talking about Peppers or Cilantro, you really shouldn’t make substitutions to ingredients.  Obviously certain ingredients are put together because they are pleasing upon combination, and who am I to mess with what someone else has deemed perfection?  I’ve let green peppers slide before just because I thought maybe I was missing something with a flavor combination.  I WAS.  It was the only time I have ever though “Green Peppers aren’t so bad.” That thought has not crossed my mind since.  Green Peppers are the devil, Bánh mì, and you are dancing with them (in the pale moonlight, no less).

Just thinking about taking a bite out of you, Bánh mì, makes my lips burn.  My nose is starting to tingle painfully.  Spots on my tongue are twitching in such a way that my eyes, speckled with precipitation, search for something to drink.  Sparks shoot through my throat and down my esophagus.  My stomach braces itself for the inevitable pain of delicious spice.  You’re not even here, Bánh mì.  I don’t even know if my assessment is close to correct.

You scare me, in a good way.  I want to order you, and I want to destroy you.

You might destroy me first.

Sometimes it’s hard to be a (fill in the blank)

Good evening! I’m not overly political, typically.  I vote.  I read articles. I typically know enough to nod and spout some random cohesive thoughts and ideas with regard to upcoming elections. I know things, guys! I try not to really discuss politics unless I am wasted, though, because I get very passionate about certain topics, like poverty, education, war, human rights, and so forth.  It’s just getting more and more difficult to keep my mouth shut, and here is the end result: I’m blogging angry and sad, with a heavy heart, and an aching back.

Right now (well, for a while now), I am really, really, REALLY disappointed with the laws being passed left and right, and how they affect women.  How they affect men. How they affect children.  How they affect the elderly.  How they affect couples who don’t fit the archaic stereotypes of what a family is “supposed” to look like. How they affect single-parent households.  How they affect single (or relationship-having but not married-) people.  How they affect healthcare. How they affect education, from the beginning of a person’ education and all the way through.

I feel helpless.  I read stories about how people are losing the right to their privacy, being strip searched for little, if any, reason.  I read about how women in some states are being traumatized by having to carry stillborns full-term because of certain laws that are in place. I read about people being treated more harshly every day simply because they’re not your “average” white, Christian-looking American.  I read about kids whose parents know they won’t live through their teens because of street violence.

I feel so helpless.  I don’t like what I’m seeing.  I don’t know what to do about it.  I understand that there need to be laws, but I don’t understand why the laws have to be so regressive and detremental to such a vast array of people.

I’m not a moron, and I know that not everyone is going to be happy no matter what laws are in place…but to make so many people so miserable?  What good does this do?  Who are the law makers and the law passers actually helping?  I’m getting upset just typing this. I am so worried about the future that I couldn’t imagine ever bringing a child into this world, which will, and has, become so restrictive.  We’re moving backwards!  We are moving backwards, as a society, and as a culture, every day.

I don’t expect everyone’s problems to end just because the world is sad as fuck.  I know there are things out there that make our lives worth living.  I see hope in the eyes of people all the time.  But not enough.  Not enough hope, and not enough people holding on to it.

I wish I had some sort of a solution, and that I could say or do something to make things better, open up people’s eyes, show the people who keep coming up with, and passing, these ridiculous laws that these things should NOT be.

I am thankful for the creative outlets that I have, and for the people in my life who are equally, if not more, outraged and incensed by what is going on, with whom I can laugh about our (potentially?) bleak futures, and plot our escape.

I know I am not less of a person because I am a woman, and I wish there weren’t people out there who think I am (not to say that you do. I should hope you don’t think that). I don’t think anyone is less of a person because of their sex, orientation, religion, politics, etc.  But I will judge the shit out of you if you’re a dick.

Valentines, Improv, Tumblr, and Brits – the last two weeks have been busy

There are simply not enough hours in a day, and not enough coffee to keep me awake to accomplish everything I need to anymore.

Somehow, life got incredibly busy.  Which is AWESOME because it is really great to have so much to do!  Most of it really involves working, and then going to the gym (ROAR!!! My muscles hurt), with a sprinkling of improv here and there.  Then there is the writing.  Oooh the writing, of which I could be doing more. I would really love a dictation system, a portable one, because I have been thinking up ideas left and right but am not always in the most convenient of situations to write things down.  Also, I could talk to myself in public, and when people are looking at me, I could whip out the dictation machine and be like “NOTE TO SELF: YOU ARE AWESOME, DICTATION MACHINE!!” Actually, most likely, no one would really pay attention anyhow.

Additionally, I’ll be assisting with Learnapalooza here in Chicago, which I am super psyched about, auditioning for a play on Thursday, and currently in peace talks with an alien race who contacted America earlier today about becoming our overlords, but I think I’ve talked them down to just making us their personal shoppers*.   Additionally-additionally, I re-watched Sherlock Series 1.  Because.

If only I had Watson's dedication towards blogging...

Saw these on tumblr. These, and so many other bizarre things.

So I’m writing this on my lunch break at work, while eating a delicious Cara Cara orange, which just so happen to be my favorite type of orange ever.  They’re actually pink!  Trader Joe’s had bags of them for sale, which is pretty much the coolest since they’re not the easiest to find, or they’re like, extremely small when you do find them.  Aaaah, the life of a produce snob is so hard.

Level (it is actually called AP, sorry) 3 of improv is now over, and 4 started last week.  What is always interesting to me is the differences in teaching styles that I’ve come across here.  I think I’ve mentioned it previously, but I had one teacher in Raleigh for Levels 1-5.  While this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it can be limiting just because you get only one person’s point of view on improvising.  If you like that, then it’s perfect.  I’m a feedback junkie, though, so I like to have many opinions.  I also just love different points of view, so this works out great.

My current teacher, who some of my friends actually know, is perhaps the most intimidating teacher I’ve ever had, which is having a bizarre affect on my improv.  Here’s the deal: in the last two class groups, I haven’t 100% been improvising like I used to.  I’ve been timid and weird and it’s just excruciating, I’m sure, to watch.  After one Level (AP) 4 class, I am so intimidated that I am coming out of my shell and approaching the scenes a bit differently, which is AWESOME.  Also I definitely got yelled at but I was being a smart ass about it so there’s that.  Perhaps next time I shant say “yes” when asked “would it help if I yelled at you?” just to test this guy.

Jesus, what did we even do in class?  We worked on scene initiations, which are kind of horrible bitches to me, still.  But what we did was a lot of fun!  Our teacher gave us lines to start with (such as “I parked the car” and “it’s hot”), and we all did different scenes with these lines, but of course, said with different inflections and intonations, which I feel like means the same thing.  Hang on.  Similar.  Anyhow, yeah.  Did I mention that the whole thing was kind of intimidating?  But it was good! And I feel like I’ll be less nervous about my “I’m going to try stand up!” decision after this class as well.

Oh and speaking of things that were/are intimidating, I auditioned for a television show.  That was interesting and it probably won’t pan out but was for a bit part and a fun experience just the same!

Hmmm, other than that I’ve really got to write more and figure out if my superawesomestory would be better suited for a book or a graphic novel, then I need to find a kickass artist and write and write and write, then maybe start a Kickstarter for it.  I also came up with an idea for a depressing but funny tv show, but I’m worried that it’s too similar to too many things that are out now.

I need a fairy godproducer**.

My lunch break has been over for ten minutes.  Have you heard of This is my Jam?  Go check it out – I read an article today where it was described as “Pinterest for music!” and I don’t know how I feel about it because for me Pinterest is just tumblr for fancy people.  So.  That.  Add me; I’m ker_pow!

Happy Valentine’s day tomorrow!  I love you!

I made this for a post I never finished. It's me, as a sloth, snuggling in bed and reading "Everything is Illuminated"

*This may not be true.

**an assistant, lottery win, more hours in the day, or a Ricky Gervais to my Stephen Merchant would work as well.

We have such sights to show you!

Hey Hi!  I have so much I’ve been wanting to talk to you about so I’m using the internets at a Carribou Coffee shop a few blocks from our place since ours won’t be up for a while…and there is free air conditioner here…, and I didn’t want you to be like “Oh, so Chicago Jessica doesn’t care about social media or whatever, huh?!?!”

I miss you!  I’m writing this and applying for jobs so I’m sorry if the post is super disjointed…yet how could you tell?  Seriously, sometimes when I’m typing a post and I go back to read it and I can’t help but think the whole thing is just this giant stream of consciousness weirdness and I cross my fingers that you can follow.  But that is how I talk so, it’s like we’re sitting and having coffee while you read my blog, right?  Please excuse me, I just literally chugged an Iced Chai.  Guys it is hot here.

So, the trip!  We were slightly but not really delayed because Oscar decided to take one final stroll around the ‘hood to give the finger to mean kitties been fighting with him.  Once we (well, Alex) found him, we were on our way.  The drive up was pretty nice, once we both got used to the ginormity of the Penske truck.  We listened to a lot of musics and podcasts (you need to listen to Mike and Tom Eat Snacks, which is Michael Ian Black and Tom Cavanaugh (from the sitcom Ed, do you remember it?!  Bowling Alley Lawyer!) eating snacks and talking fun stuff.  I already thought Michael Ian Black was great, but Tom Cavanaugh is the goofiest dude.  It’s awesome.  Oh, and Judge John Hodgman (listen to THIS episode! I KNOW THESE PEOPLE!!!) and the Moth and a Skeptic podcast…but hey I DIGRESS!), stopped at the shadiest motel in Ohio (my fault, but we’re still alive!  I think…), and made it to Chicago on Friday, and have been unpacking and exploring ever since!  On Sunday I got to spend time with Leslie for her birthday, which was awesome, and today I went on an interview which went ok, but we’ll see…

I have tons of pictures and things to share with you, and I will!  One day!  Maybe not today since there are many, many more jobs to apply for, but know that I’m thinking of ya and I miss everyone in NC and Chicago is really, really neat but I am definitely a bit homesick.

Everything is really going well, though, and once we’re full of internets in our abode, I’m going to start doing something fun with this blog which will have me writing more, and differently.  I found my “Writer’s Block” which I don’t remember if I bought or it was a gift, but it’s a great thing to assist in getting stories started and creating characters, or just tapping into things to get the creative juices flowing.  I think I’m going to aim for doing one fictional blog post a week, and I DEFINITELY want your feedback.  I might take one of the topics and just go off randomly on a non-fiction story.  Regardless, I will let you know the topic, and fiction or non-fiction, before each post.  What do you think?!?  Meanwhile, I will continue to explore and discuss Chicago, and improv, once I get to that point…kinda need a job first.

Ok I lied, here’s an awesome picture of a bear attack in the giant model train at the Museum of Science and Industry!

RAWR!