Stream Of Conciousness

Dear Jessica, This is my third post today (and if you wanna get technical, third in the last ten minutes). I just wanted to let you know I'm still reading your blog when you post. Sometimes I check for new posts because I don't always get the e-mail notification immediately and I am very impatient. Anyway, I'm still here! I'm still consuming that sweet, sweet blog content. I never know whether I should write responses to your posts. I think about doing it and then I'm like, "I don't need to give my opinion on everything, shut up, Me." Sometimes I think about commenting or texting you about it, but then I wonder if I even have anything important enough to say. Honestly, I'm probably just overthinking it! Speaking of commenting on things, I wonder whether to respond to some of your motherhood related tweets, because what wisdom could I, a person with no children, impart on you about motherhood. I like to try to help, but sometimes I'm like

When I started this blog, I assumed I would just be writing out whatever popped into my head in some kind of unorganized glory and posting it without any kind of editing. That didn’t happen. I’ve always kept a bit of structure in my posts. I don’t know, I guess the writer and the bit of perfectionist in me wouldn’t let too much mess exist in my writing. I may have mentioned before that I feel the need to keep this updated fairly frequently. On a day like today, when I have the writing itch, I don’t need a whole lot of motivation to crank out a post. In fact, this is the second post I'm writing at the moment. I had to stop in the middle of the other one to write down this idea. Doesn’t matter if it’s a good idea… I just like typing lol. Sometimes, it takes me 20 minutes, other times it takes me 2 or 3 hours (from conception to editing and publishing) to write a post. Most of the time if I want to write a post, I put on a Spotify playlist and pause whatever else I'm doing

I'm in the mood to blast music and sit on the floor and paint like I used to do when I lived with my parents. I used to do a lot more art. My room was full of color and art supplies and random objects that inspired me. And it was messy and I liked it that way. I don’t paint or draw anymore. I barely ever do any creative writing anymore. I don’t lay on my bedroom floor and stare at my ceiling and daydream. I used to have a window above my bedroom door. It was some old design where all the doors in the house had windows above them that could be opened by pushing up this metal rod attached to the door frame. I think it was for before houses had air conditioning and you could open the windows in case it got too hot. I don’t really know. I painted on the glass once. I stood on a ladder and painted a sunset and a giraffe and it took me about 2 or 3 days to finish it. I miss my old room. It was one of my favorite places to be. The wall paper was striped in flowers and the carpet was bl

I watch a lot of TV. I don’t have cable, and I don’t even have an antenna to pick up local channels, so technically, I watch a lot of Netflix. It seems like there is some kind of distinction between “TV” and “Netflix”, or whatever streaming service you please. It seems like “TV” means scheduled programs that you can pick up locally or on cable. Netflix   ( or insert streaming service here) can be watched at any time and any place as long as you have an account and a Wi-Fi connection. I'm not certain why I'm explaining this to you. Anyway. I've watched all the good shows. I've binged Orange is the New Black, Parks and Rec, Vampire Diaries, Supernatural, Doctor Who (when it was still on Netflix, R.I.P.), and many, many more. I like shows with a lot of seasons and good plots. I like shows that are funny and some that are mysterious and some that have more substance than others. I'm not big on cop shows (and oh my god there’s so many) or military shows (Drew, how

I found a house I want to buy and I'm already planning where I want to put my furniture. We have been playing with the idea of moving for a while now. We have lived in our current apartment for 4 years now. We need more space (especially storage space) and at least one other bedroom. I really love this place, but I think it’s time for a change. Drew and I were in the car and we were talking about houses and how much our parents paid for houses. My parents bought my childhood home (a two-story, 3br. 2ba. house on 2 acres of land) in like 1996 (?) for $80,000, and Drew’s parents bought a (one level, 3br. 2ba.) house for about the same amount. Our state has the cheapest housing market (which doesn’t mean much when you live in the poorest state), and we were curious what your average house costs these days around where we live. Drew started googling things and ended up on a realty website looking at houses in our area. I can’t remember what number he said was average, but he star

I'm growing an avocado plant and it took a lot of patience. About a month and a half ago, I bought one of those green mesh bags with four avocados in it. I brought them home and had to refrain from cutting one open because they weren't yet ripe. I freakin' LOVE avocado. But they have to be ripe before you eat them or they are hard and not as flavorful. So I waited for them to ripen. It took about two days for one of them to turn purple and soft. I got excited. I was skipping around the kitchen and singing about how great that avocado was going to be with some salt and pepper. I sliced it in half, leaving the seed in the other half and putting some lemon juice on the exposed flesh to keep it fresh for later and put it in a container in the fridge. I cut vertically and horizontally across the green and yellow avocado and scooped it into a bowl with a spoon. I sprinkled over some salt and pepper and mushed it all around and ate it straight out of the bowl. It was easily the b

I need to get out of my head and into my blog! It's been like??? Four days?? Since I've blogged? IT FEELS UNUSUAL. So here I am. Writing this. But what is this? Your guess is as good as mine. I guess I just feel like if I don't do this regularly I'll stop doing it all together. Maybe this can be an update. So, since I last posted, I tried a cinnamon roll recipe and decided it needs to be changed a little, I still haven't been able to stick to any sort of sleep schedule, and I went grocery shopping. For about a week, I had wanted to make cinnamon rolls. I googled cinnamon roll recipes and found one that had "quick" in the title, because even though I have nothing but time, I don't want to spend all day baking what should be a simple thing. So I found a recipe I liked and bookmarked it. For the rest of the week I told myself that "today", whatever day it happened to be, would be the day I would make cinnamon rolls. And for about fou

I hate citing things and this is a personal blog not a research paper or a news website, so if you want to know the source of any information I post, you can google it yourself. The definition of an intrusive thought is "an unwelcome involuntary thought, image, or unpleasant idea that may become an obsession, is upsetting or distressing, and can feel difficult to manage or eliminate". For example, if you have ever been chopping vegetables in the kitchen with a sharp knife and suddenly the thought of you taking the knife and stabbing it into your own hand creeps in, that's an intrusive thought. You would never really do that. So why did you think about it? Freud theorized about a similar phenomenon called "thanatos" or a "death drive". He said (and I'm paraphrasing, here) that the mind is sometimes compelled to reduce itself to a state of extinction. In other words, Freud thought that the mind wandered so far as to consider the possibility

I didn't realize how boring I am until I started trying to write a blog about my life. I would apologize, but I guess no one's forcing you to read it, so sorry, not sorry. I can't remember if I have mentioned it in a post before or if I have only entertained the idea of writing about it, but I worry about getting too personal. Since this is on the internet for anyone to find and read, I worry that if I say too much about someone I know and they find it, I will offend them somehow. But on the other hand, I feel like throwing caution to the wind and doing it anyway.  I've been sort of vaguely alluding to (is that some kind of oxymoron?) things in my life without going into detail because I worry about someone in my life seeing it and getting offended. It's really just the fact that having someone know my pure, unfiltered thoughts about them or about a situation they were involved in kind of scares me. It's scary to make your private thoughts public. As t

Dear Jessica, I don’t remember what day it is. I can look at the date. I can remember that yesterday was the seventh and tomorrow will be the ninth. I know that yesterday ended at 12am and today will too. But the days of the week mean nothing to me. Weekends used to mean freedom. It was a time to enjoy being at home and to put off school assignments. It was time for seeing friends and watching too much TV. Every day is a weekend now. And I'm not complaining. It’s just strange. Days don’t mean anything unless I’m making plans with other people. People who have schedules. Occasionally, I remind myself to remember what day it is because I have to be somewhere, sometime, someday. I've got plenty of time and no good way to spend it (and no money and plenty of ways to spend it, but that’s another story). Every day is a weekend. too much TV. Too much staying at home. But nowhere else to be. I like my home. Which is good, since I rarely leave it. Sometimes I wish I lived

They say cleanliness is next to Godliness.    In so many cultures, bathing has its connections to holiness. Now, I'm not much of a religious person, but I can’t deny the sanctuary of a shower. The hot, steaming water, the floral scented soaps and shampoos; it’s all very ceremonial and comforting. You can really let your mind idle and wander. I think that’s why we all sing in the shower. (And if you’re not singing in the shower you are denying yourself those fabulous bathroom acoustics!) Your mind is on autopilot, because slathering yourself with shower gel doesn’t require any brain power. Your brain has to entertain itself somehow. That’s where shower thoughts come from!   Don’t you always find that you have your best ideas in the shower? You think of that hilarious thing to tweet, but by the time you’re toweling off, you’ve forgotten what it was. You contemplate the idea of bringing your phone into the shower just so all that potential isn’t wasted, but you decide agains

 (In response to: x ) How often is one meant to blog? once a week? Bi-weekly? And by “bi-weekly” I mean in the "every two weeks" sense and not the "twice a week" sense. And how, without such an explanation, is anyone supposed to know whether you mean twice a week or every two weeks? It seems like a confusing phrase. My point is, I don’t have any sort of schedule for this and I will either be blogging too often or not often enough. Dear Jessica , I imagine I will also look back on this is later years (or months maybe) and feel embarrassed about writing personal letters for the whole of the internet to read. Maybe the solution is to not look back. As for now I feel really excited about it. I'm happy to have a project. You are not alone. It’s cliché to say that, but it’s true. And I know that sometimes that isn’t comforting because it doesn’t solve your problems. It doesn’t even make you feel less alone. But it’s okay to feel the way you feel.