Natalie Walker - Waking Dream
Coeur de Pirate - Wicked Games
A picture of myself. Classy!
Seriously though, thisunpredictablelife and I did a photo shoot last week. This one is my favorite so far.
He tells his story. And not only that, but makes it a lesson.
A live recording of a song that never fails to make me want to groove.
Can’t Hold Us
I can’t begin to describe the passion this man shows. And this video is heart wrenching and warming at the same time.
@its_jay12 is worried that spatula will fly out of his hands and hurt someone. Spatulas can be dangerous.
Damn right I’m worried!
The annual Christmas greeting from thenakedconfessions and I.
Here we are!
We’re All A Little Vain Sometimes.
Instead of studying for my final that’s in ten short hours, I’m going to post. Because it’s what I do best when I’m supposed to be studying.
I was just looking through my profile pictures on Facebook. (It’s been an emotional kind of night.) All 80 of them. Comparing and contrasting, trying to see things that other people might or might not see. And as I neared the end, I found my very first picture. I went one to far, and found myself flipping back and forth between one I put up yesterday and one of me from a little over six years ago. Altogether, not that much different. But oh, how much I’ve changed.
I can see the subtleties in my body. The way my shoulders have dropped a little and my curves have settled in. I see the lines on my forehead becoming deeper and more permanent - a few long hours of thinking etching them in as a part of who I am. I see my smile change through some of the different phases I’ve gone through. How sometimes it lights up my eyes, and sometimes it doesn’t even touch them. That contagious laugh, and those best of friends who occupy the frame with me. The dimples and laugh lines, freckles and brown eyes.
It’s incredible. It’s incredible how we live and learn and persevere. How with every experience comes a story, and every story molds us into who we are this day.
Most of all, I see a lady. I see the woman I’ve become…One who I am absolutely proud to say I am.
To my finals…
The Levels of Jess
For all those who like to push me, here is an indicator of how you’re doing.
My Personalized Stress-o-Meter.
Level 1: I’ll be spotted picking at my face and eating lots and lots of food. In this particular level, I’m not actually stressed. It’s just the days building up and I’m probably more tired than usual. And I’ll probably post something on tumblr about being stressed and having acne.
Level 2: I won’t be spotted. I’ll be sleeping. Here, I decide that the most important thing is to put everything down and just sleep. Before class, during class, and after class. I’ll probably be dreaming of potato chips, which according to the internet means I’m over indulgent…probably from Level 1 stress eating…But whatever. After all…the sleep will help resolve Level 1 stress.
Level 3: I may forget to eat and drink a lot of coffee/energy drinks. Now we’ve entered the productive stage. Usually you’ll find me on the fourth floor of the library from dawn to dusk (and then until dawn again), jittery, pooping a lot from the caffiene and sugar, and generally not being able to walk or function from lack of nutrients that I haven’t consumed and have just left in the bathroom (sorry everyone).
Level 4: I can’t stop talking. (Sugar high?) I’ll do anything to avoid work, including talk to people I don’t like. Generally I feel awesome. I’ll ride the (natural) high until I crash. And usually I don’t crash. Because I’m so amped up on caffeine that I could run for days. But when I start to come down…………….watch out.
*Disclaimer* I talk to people I like, too. Don’t think I don’t like you just because I talk a lot.
Well…don’t think I like you either.
Level 5: You’ll most likely find me sobbing at pump 12 at the BP. Followed by this, I’ll lock myself in my bedroom, and I’ll go take a shower for the first time in what is probably days because I’ve been too tired/busy talking/drinking coffee/planning the next “Occupy Walstreet: 4th Floor Bathroom Style”. If you’re watching through my bathroom window (that doesn’t have a curtain), I’ll probably have another (really ugly) cry session, and climb my way into the hot spray. This is when it gets fun, and when my resolve sets in. I’ll spy the sponge out of the corner of my eye, tear the curtain open (getting water everywhere) in search of the cleaning spray, and I’ll attack. A half hour later, I’ll walk out of the bathroom with a sparkling shower and my chin held high, and probably attack the fridge next in search of Chipotle (or whatever leftovers are in there).
This is generally a natural progression: a two to three week process that starts when I find out I have 3+ exams in a one week time frame. More than likely, the weekends are filled of work and ROTC shenanigans, and I end up completely unprepared for at least one of the exams. This continues on until exams are over, and just when I think I’ve made it, I get thrown through the ringer one last time. And then, a few months later, it will happen again.
The beauty of it all? I always make it through. I can always wake up happy the next day. And I can almost always look back and laugh.
And here we are again
Same table as Tuesday…but the squirrels aren’t nesting. I’m here early. And my exam is actually at 3.
Oh yeah. That exam at 2 on Tuesday? It was actually at 11. I realized that right after I wasted (way too long) blogging.
So here I sit, once again. With a coffee, blueberry streusel muffin, and a monster. It shall be an interesting six hours…
So This Is A Story All About How…
Ok my life didn’t get turned upside down. But my day, thus far, has just been whack.
I had to wake up extra early today. Instead of the usual 5:27, it was 4:47. Nope. Jess slept through two alarms and was up at 5:01 instead. What’s with the weird numbers? You see, I have this perfect balance figured out. I know exactly how long it takes me to get out of bed, put my hair up (this depends on if it’s straight or curly), brush my teeth, get dressed, and scrape my windshield. When I get up late or I forget a step in the process, my whole day is subject to … anything really. Murph is out there, ready to mess with everything he can.
I left PT early (6:59) because I have a 7:30 class every day. Getting home at 7:03, I went inside and did a little personal hygiene, changed my clothes, and grabbed the dog. This process took a little long than usual, because my face is extra covered in pimples and putting makeup on is a hassle. So when I took Webbster out at 7:24 (It takes 8 minutes to drive to class and walk inside), I knew I’d be cutting it close. She usually starts a little late. Well, I knew for sure I’d be late when Webbster took off. He ran over to the neighbor’s parking lot because she was leaving for work and he wanted to say hi. I’m standing in the yard screeching, while trying to apologize and seem like a normal human being. Webbster then decides he wants to go for a car ride, and jumps in her car. It’s not until she reaches for him to get him out that she goes “Ooooh…ummm……..”. I grab him and take him to the yard, and realized he’s got poop stuck to the hair on his back end, because he hasn’t gotten a haircut in forever. We go inside (7:32) and I grab paper towels..He hides under the table. I pull out the chair, he makes a run for it. Up the stairs, onto Shelbi’s bed. Sigh. *Spank*. Bad dog. Clean him up, run out the door. Forgot the yogurt and granola on the counter. Back inside.
Whew! Finally on my way. 7:38. It could be worse. Oh wait. It gets better. My car does this lovely thing where it dings 100 times to let me know when something is wrong. When I turned it on this morning, 3 lights and 4 warnings were flashing on my dash. My low tire light, oil change light, and low and behold, my “GET GAS OR I’M NOT STARTING AFTER YOU GET OFF WORK” light were all dinging, one right after another. Every 5 seconds, the little screen was flashing between the signs “Left rear tire low”, “Right front tire low”, “Change engine oil soon”, and “Gas level low”. The poor baby needs some TLC, and the universe is out to get me.
I just recently sat down in the library to start studying for my exam at 2 today, same seat I always get when I’m on my own, and looked out the window. There are two squirrels building a nest. Even the mother f’ing squirrels are being more productive than I have been for the last week combined.
Why I Run, Part 2.
Back in September, I posted a status on Facebook about running. It was as follows:
I run because I have good days. I run to lighten the bad days. I’m not that good at it, and I’m not even all that consistent. But I’m doing it. And I’m determined. And for that reason, I’m proud.
Every once in a while, I forget why running is important. People tell me to, people think it’s good, people want to look good because society demands it…the list goes on.
So today, this Veteran’s Day, I have Reason 2 why I run. These will keep coming, periodically, every time I, or someone around me, needs a reminder.
I run for the Army. I do it to fulfill my job, and I do it to improve my life. I run for the Past, the Present, and the Future Soldiers of the United States. I do it for the Veterans…for the continual sacrifices they made for me and everyone around me. I run because some of them no longer can, and I run to make them proud.
I’m in love.
Holy cow. I want this!!