alex left for iceland last night and now i have no one to show things like this to.

or even this.

i'll be kissing lips (FINALLY) one week from today. whenever i think about him being gone i play out the "run home jack" scene from hook in my mind.
i've spent more nights alone in our new bedroom than i have with him and i think it's going to make my brain hurt a little when he's back and all the space is no longer just mine.
not that i'm complaining.

i just want tons of money so i can better my surroundings, my closet, and most importantly my pantry and stomach. i just want to cook dinner for everyone i know and be challenged at work so that my brain doesn't feel like it's going to leak out of my ears.

whatever this.

http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2010/09/brown-ale-and-buckwheat-honey-ice-cream-recipe.html?utm_source=Serious+Eats+Recipe+Newsletter&utm_campaign=2b05b9013d-Serious_Eats_Recipe_Newsletter_September_17_2010&utm_medium=email

cover me in ink
let me cover my walls

1000 words,
at least.


you're leaving you're leaving you're leaving you're leaving

i feel like i could fly to see you right now and i wish gravity would let me go so that i could

Dinner: whole roast chicken (lime, cilantro, chili powder, coriander, and cumin), shredded. Sauteed green and red peppers with red onion and scallion in pureed tomato. White rice. Black beans. Homemade chili sauce. White corn tortillas. Queso fresco.

Apricot preseve cream cheese buns with honey drizzle.
strawberry preserve cream cheese buns with mini chocolate chips.

INTO IT

http://fashiongonerogue.com/eva-herizgova-glen-luchford-emvogue-italiaem-june-2010/

i love nastygal.com pt 1

my wish list, full of things out of stock because i like them too much to delete them:

july

urban outfitters catalog, go:

in all honestly, i've def been saying since last fall when my ck loafers started falling apart that all i wanted were straight up bass loafers.

like a virgin,

touched for the very first time.

dear hubert,

i wish you hadn't of moved out. i know you never wanted to cuddle with me but i'll never forget those weeks we spent having slumber parties while trevor was on tour. you used to let me hold your paw like we were holding hands when no one was looking and i really appreciate it. you taught me how to like cats, we painted the living room, and you left. i guess it was time for you to move along. you were always a rebel anyway.

be safe stinky--

love,
mama

note to self, eat more plums.

"...plums contain chlorogenic acid, which may decrease anxiety and depression."

although i'm feeling much better today anyway.

i feel like someone just kicked the shit out of me.

the light poured from the corner of the house five or six feet away from the picnic table bathing it in a yellow glow.
in the dark of night faces shown clearly as i moved behind you to feel your shoulders in my hands.
"sit here, please," said his father as he moved in a singular motion from your side on the bench next to his son.
i explained i'd have plenty of sitting to do on the ride home. additionally, i get to sit next to you all the time.
i turned to the man's son and told him how proud i was of him. it was obviously the most minimal comment i could make, maybe a little obvious too but, i mean every syllable as i uttered it. i knew he could tell as he hugged me in response.
while i stood behind you he paid me the same compliment he gave me not too long ago on another intoxicated warm night.
his father agreed, a man i've met twice, that you had a good woman. i think i grabbed your shoulders again, pressing my fingers in softly (a novice at massage anyhow), attempting to keep busy to hide my embarrassment and appreciation.
in that warm glow at the table i'm not sure you even heard them speaking, your face forward.
both times he's told me though all i wish is that you agree.

I don't want a crystal ball, I'd really just appreciate some sort of guiding light.
Glowing in front of the thing I should be studying in school, or the food I should be eating, or the job I should be wanting; just a suggestive glowing lighting the way.

I hope I'm actually as ready as I feel I might be, about at least attempting to start chipping away at these three classes. For now I guess you could say I'm in the earliest of early planning stages. Things must be aligned but I'd like to be able to start up again by the winter or spring semester, there's lots of ducks to line up and the like.

I want to be someone that people can be proud of.

It's amazing the difference night and day can make. Or the difference a pair of arms and a handful of text messages can make.
Please excuse me if I'm a little rough around the edges but, I think I'm back and I like the way it feels.
I don't just mean back from these past 4 days or so of chest pounding and head spinning, I mean back at a keyboard and back trying to make something of this goddamn gift of life I've been given. Jessica Perry- the eternal cheese-ball optimist.
I understand that this is not anything that will reach the masses. I'm not really sure it reaches anyone at all. Getting it out of my head in a context where I can see it and read it and possibly even get feedback is something I need though. I'm tired of writing shitty poems and tucking them away in my desk. I'm tired of writing things I like and being too nervous or embarrassed to show them to anyone. Most of all I don't want to have to go through the humiliation of not being taken seriously if I do manage the cojones to try to show it to someone. The beauty of the internet, which I somehow forgot, is I could be showing all this to millions of people or no one at all but it's out there and that's part of the battle.
The thing is I've always been better at putting the jumbled mess of my thoughts down in words than I have ever been in speaking them. I mentioned being embarrassed before but sometimes I think that's only part of it. I'm always more scared about being misunderstood or misinterpreted. If you have it in front of you it just leaves less room for error, in theory.
I've been clenching my teeth and pounding my chest and reminding myself to breath all week and it's just because I'm scared. Sometimes it happens. Ironically enough, it seems to happen around this time every year. Isn't that fucked up? Getting off topic...
The initial point I'm trying to make here is that I write things down. It's just how I roll, so to speak. And I hope you don't think that it has anything to do with the importance of the things I feel or the comfortability I have with you (others) it has more to do with the comfortability I have with myself. I'm more comfortable in black in white because the grays just fuck everything up anyway.
I'm not going to re-read this, and I'm pretty sure I've gotten pretty far away from the initial map I had laid out in my head.
All in all I'm just tired of spinning my wheels and I want to do everything I can to change it at a manageable pace so I don't fuck it all up again.

when i got to work this morning i spent just about the first three hours sitting at my desk, staring at my computer screen, thinking about how i wasn't sure if i had actually woken up this morning. i could tell that just the bottom halves of my baby blues were concentrating on anything passing before my face.
actually, until i pumped my veins full of caffeine (just the beginning of what will be a day/night driven by caffeine so i can dance until every bad thought and feeling has leaked out of my pores) i was pretty confused as to whether i was actually here.
today just hasn't felt real ever since i fell back asleep after opening my eyes and seeing how fucking perfect the sky was. it definitely didn't look that way when i finally walked out to my car.

____________________________________________________________

feeling trapped between these blonde strands and holly-specs today,
feeling the weight of these d's and everything other oz that hangs off my bod.
just wishing it was your voice and eyes that peered back through the mirror
so i would know if i even looked okay.

rant runt rint

The thing is I'm quite cranky today (right now) and I'm pretty sure it's only because I'm stuck behind this desk and I basically finished everything I could "need" to do.
I bought a fucking diet pepsi to drink with my lunch (WHO AM I?) and had a mini powdered doughnut.
Drinking this soda makes me want to kill myself but I used my last dollar on it and therefore cannot buy a water. If only I could time travel.
I really wish this upside down May weather wasn't messing my vibe so much but this week has just been rougher than fucking sand paper. It's only Wednesday.
It's absolutely the weather. I'm just extremely irritable.
All I want to do is play pixel junk monsters, cook for people I care about, hang out with the boy who makes me melt, drink gallons of gin, shake my hips, buy clothes/put together outfits, wear the shortest shorts, and not have to worry about money (or the lack thereof).
It's okay though because my spending has slowly been changing and I intend to keep making it do so. In 2010 I have bought one bra and one skirt. That makes just about 27$ spent on clothes. WHO AM I?
Unfortunately I think I've replaced my clothes shopping with food shopping. That is: going out to eat, buying fancy cheese, eating sushi for lunch. Things need to be reigned in or else I am just going to continue to miserable and I can't allow that. It's really not how I'm supposed to be.

There were other things I had intended to work into something here (just so I could work them out of my head). Like, how some people are turds. How it's sad that there are actually people who come into, and then go out of, your life and leave nothing good behind. Immediately after I typed that I realized it was absolute bullshit and not at all how I think hahahaha. Oh, there you ARE Jessica!

NEED

elizabeth cole, fish earrings:

faves

in no particular order:











1. Jessica Stam, Rachel Roy.
2. Claire Danes, Burberry. (Also, big up to Claire for having the best accessory of the night--HUGH DANCY).
3. Rachel Weiss, Oscar de la Renta. (Honorable mention to Naomi Watts, I just couldn't bring myself to having two favorite hot pink dresses.)
4. Amber Valleta, RM by Roland Mouret.
5. Stella McCartney and Kate Hudson, Stella McCartney.
6. Marion Cotillard, Dior. (DUH.)
7. SJP, Halston Heritage.
8. Alexa "tooth pick legs" Chung, 3.1 Phillip Lim.
9. Chloe Sevigny, Proenza Schouler. (I DIE.)

"yeah, but there's so many cute shoes out there."
"there's so many cute everythings out there."

gimme gimme gimme:

thank you...

...rachel zoe for helping me to begin my day by feasting my eyes on these beauts:


sitting here clicking through the bottega veneta website, looking at shoes, i can feel the drool trickling down my chin. maybe it is a good thing it's all flash so i can't just copy so many of them here.

O-My-God

one.

this things okay but,
man,
do i miss my livejournal.

more like smogs.

Nostalgia plays a big part in my life. Or is a big presence in my life (would probably be a less depressing way of wording it.)
I thoroughly enjoy the notion of it and the warm tingles it gives me all over my limbs and up and down my spine.

That being said, I've made a considerable amount of interesting decisions throughout my history of dressing myself and when it comes to my wardrobe, nostalgia, oddly enough, isn't always enough for me to venture back in time or to the back of my closet.
I can't remember if I ended up with "the clogs" when I was a hippie for Halloween (something like 4th/5th grade) or if it wasn't until 7th grade, when my mom's best friend gave me some of her old clothes while I was in Grease but, somehow I ended up with heeled clogs. I loved them more than you can imagine; more than I care to remember in fact. Loved them so much that I wore these heeled clogs until my parents (in a rare moment of wardrobe intervention) made me get rid of them due to the fact that they were falling apart and so were my hereditarily-weak ankles.

To this day I'm not entirely sure why I loved those clogs as much as I did.
I mean, they were clogs! They inherently had practically everything working against them. The reemergence of clogs for the spring only serves to reinforce my stance to never look back when it comes to clogs. I say it here and now: fuck. that. shit.

Most of my past poor choices (that year I wore only my father's large t shirts and sweat pants) I can justify, or even not feel ashamed of. Most of these past discrepancies usually serve to somehow make me appreciate things in my present life. Not with clogs though. For how much I loved those damned heeled clogs in the '90s I see or feel nothing redeeming or warm when I see a clog these days.

Perhaps, my admiration for the clogs had just been a misplaced sense of nostalgia for a time I wasn't even close to be being born into. (Heck, my parents weren't even old enough to be hippies.) I'll tell you what though- no matter how many magazines I see them in, or how many designers want me to think they're the cats pajamas I WILL NOT give in, these will not be words I eat because let's face it. Clogs are dumb, and ugly and if I was forced at gun-point these are the only ones I would ever wear:

i haven't forgotten

i've just been busy.
(listening to cocorosie) wanting:





admittedly i'd get the most wear out of the first one. but the third one is my second favorite.

1. not sure how i feel about

so many people walking around in my uniform.

2. look at this sick "vintage 70's dress" some biatch posted on ebay. funny, i have the same sick "vintage" dress from old navy, last year. pwned?

3. yes yes yes yes yes.

4. must own.

first and foremost, this game rules.

the bushes have all been pruned, if that's even the correct terminology, from the front of the house.
to put it in perspective, since i haven't any pictures yet, it no longer looks like a rape house.
i figure i clocked in about 12 hours of hard labor over the past weekend and i find it really thrilling.
seems mother nature was just teasing us with the warm weather though as it's been raining for the past two days and today i was chattering, still, when i went out for lunch. i wouldn't mind the breezier weather so much if the sun was at least out so i could walk around in the woods.
all i want to do is be outside as often as i can. i got to wake up and eat my saturday breakfast (black coffee and a cigarette) on the trampoline like it was last summer.
stretching my heavy, sore limbs while i looked through the naked trees into whatever it is that exists behind country living.

NEEDNEEDNEEDNEEDNEEDNEEDNEEDNEED