I choose not to have sex.
There are several reasons. Here are a few:
1. To prove a point. My mom's friend, Kim, is convinced I will have sex before I'm out of high school. I will absolutely prove her wrong.
2. Boys. People say all teenage boys want is sex. Gross. Is sex really that great? Gets people pregnant and disease-ridden. Yucky. I'm pretty sure my boyfriend cares about a lot of other things and he's okay with us not having sex... I think.
3. Statistics. Ima mess wit da status quo.
4. I'm scared. I'm scared to have sex. I mean, what if it hurts? What if I get knocked up? What if I get an STD? I'm not risking it.
5. I won't be one of those sex-addicted couples. Like, what the fuck? I hate it when people talk about crazy sex. I mean, I love to ask questions and strive to make myself and others feel awkward so I suppose sometimes I like to hear about it.
6. Religion/Parents. My religious parents want me to wait. And, I mean, I sort of care what my parents think. And I do care what God thinks.
I plan on waiting until I'm married but if we learned anything from the Bush administration (Obamarama, baby!), things don't always go as planned.
Until next time, Ciao.
Jennytheywhaleybreedy
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
The exciting tickle of music.
Music takes over my life. I got lost in a CD, my piano, lyrics. I get soaked in. I hear a chord or vibrato and I shudder and feel the tickling excitement, running up my back, legs, and arms. Sometimes I hear music and my jaw clenches. And I bite inside my mouth so hard it bleeds. I taste the music. I taste the blood. Music flows through me. It seeps into my pores and hides inside my veins. It aches to get out. It dances. It sings. It is free, fresh, exciting. It is harsh, closed-in, bland. It is there, always waiting to be let go. I don't claim to me an amazing musician. I can barely play an instrument. And I don't know how to use my diaphragm. But music takes me in, takes me over, and bursts through me.
Until next time, Ciao.
JTWB
Until next time, Ciao.
JTWB
Description of a concept.
Oh, where to begin? Okay, so I came up with this term, "happy sweaters". It has to do
with people's outer representation (what people see them as/what they want to be seen as).
Everyone has a sweater (outer image) and some have a thicker (faker) sweater whereas others have a thinner (more realistic) cardigan. Say someone wants to be a pink polka-dotted hoody (emotional and romantic). They may be seen as a grey knit crew-neck sweater ( harsh and unemotional). The point is, it's best to stick with a very thin cardigan and be you (minus the things you really have to hide).
Some people I know have thick, bulky jackets with furry hoods while a select few have barely anything on. I wear a fairly thick hooded sweatshirt, sometimes I take down my hood and roll up my sleeves (literally) but, only for the people I really trust.
BMac (My English teacher/Drama coach/One of the only people who understands me and who I would tell almost anything) wears a very thin sweater. Sometimes I see behind his eyes there is something far beneath his sweater aching to get out. I fear I will never know what.
Kaitlin Hubbert (My sister/BFF/Kindred Spirit/Hobbit Pal/Smartest person EVER) wears a tissue. That's right, not even a sweater, or shirt, or bra, just a single solitary tissue and sometimes it falls off.
She is keepin' it real yo.
Until next time, Ciao.
Jennifer, the breeder of the whales
with people's outer representation (what people see them as/what they want to be seen as).
Everyone has a sweater (outer image) and some have a thicker (faker) sweater whereas others have a thinner (more realistic) cardigan. Say someone wants to be a pink polka-dotted hoody (emotional and romantic). They may be seen as a grey knit crew-neck sweater ( harsh and unemotional). The point is, it's best to stick with a very thin cardigan and be you (minus the things you really have to hide).
Some people I know have thick, bulky jackets with furry hoods while a select few have barely anything on. I wear a fairly thick hooded sweatshirt, sometimes I take down my hood and roll up my sleeves (literally) but, only for the people I really trust.
BMac (My English teacher/Drama coach/One of the only people who understands me and who I would tell almost anything) wears a very thin sweater. Sometimes I see behind his eyes there is something far beneath his sweater aching to get out. I fear I will never know what.
Kaitlin Hubbert (My sister/BFF/Kindred Spirit/Hobbit Pal/Smartest person EVER) wears a tissue. That's right, not even a sweater, or shirt, or bra, just a single solitary tissue and sometimes it falls off.
She is keepin' it real yo.
Until next time, Ciao.
Jennifer, the breeder of the whales
Monday, November 16, 2009
Jenniferthewhalebreeder?
Jennifer the whale breeder...
I really don't know where I came up with it but I used to have a myspace account and I put my career as whale breeder. Interesting job choice. Well, no one else that I know of has it, it's a good conversation starter, it's got a nice ring to it and I make fantastic whale noises.
One time while I was in Cape Breton I saw a whale washed up on the beach. Vomit.
It's Jenn with two N's. When people put one N it reminds me of a cadaverous blonde woman with a short bob style haircut, wearing an ugly pink zip up sweater who is a presbyterian stay at home mother of two. I don't know why. Maybe I'm being childish but, I don't really care. It's my name, I have to live with it forever.
Okay, so the name Jennifer. I had a dream the other night and in it I was a man, I forget my name but it's irrelevant. I am a man on the show, Project Runway and we have to hand sew these dresses and I won't have ample time. I have this elf that no one knows about that lives in my pocket and he sews it secretly for me. So it's judging time and the other contestants are all yelling at me, saying I cheated and someone else sewed it for me. And in the dream these mini pocket elves are a part of their owner and if they die, their owner dies and vice versa. When people ask about these elves you can only lie one time and if someone asks their name you can say whatever you want but whatever name you say dies. For example is you say, Saturn, Saturn will fall from space and explode. If you say, Susan, all the susans in the world will die and et cetera. So I( the man) am new to having this elf and I barely know the rules. The judges say, " How did you do it?" and I say, " A leprechaun" and laugh. That was my lie. Then they say "no, how did you actually do it?"and I can't lie so, I say, " A mini pocket elf" and they say, " Oh a pocket elf? What was the name?" and I am on the spot and I don't understand the rules so I say, "Jennifer." The next day the news paper headline is " 76 million dead. All by the name of Jennifer!" and then I forget the rest.
Until next time, Ciao.
Jennifer The Whale Breeder
I really don't know where I came up with it but I used to have a myspace account and I put my career as whale breeder. Interesting job choice. Well, no one else that I know of has it, it's a good conversation starter, it's got a nice ring to it and I make fantastic whale noises.
One time while I was in Cape Breton I saw a whale washed up on the beach. Vomit.
It's Jenn with two N's. When people put one N it reminds me of a cadaverous blonde woman with a short bob style haircut, wearing an ugly pink zip up sweater who is a presbyterian stay at home mother of two. I don't know why. Maybe I'm being childish but, I don't really care. It's my name, I have to live with it forever.
Okay, so the name Jennifer. I had a dream the other night and in it I was a man, I forget my name but it's irrelevant. I am a man on the show, Project Runway and we have to hand sew these dresses and I won't have ample time. I have this elf that no one knows about that lives in my pocket and he sews it secretly for me. So it's judging time and the other contestants are all yelling at me, saying I cheated and someone else sewed it for me. And in the dream these mini pocket elves are a part of their owner and if they die, their owner dies and vice versa. When people ask about these elves you can only lie one time and if someone asks their name you can say whatever you want but whatever name you say dies. For example is you say, Saturn, Saturn will fall from space and explode. If you say, Susan, all the susans in the world will die and et cetera. So I( the man) am new to having this elf and I barely know the rules. The judges say, " How did you do it?" and I say, " A leprechaun" and laugh. That was my lie. Then they say "no, how did you actually do it?"and I can't lie so, I say, " A mini pocket elf" and they say, " Oh a pocket elf? What was the name?" and I am on the spot and I don't understand the rules so I say, "Jennifer." The next day the news paper headline is " 76 million dead. All by the name of Jennifer!" and then I forget the rest.
Until next time, Ciao.
Jennifer The Whale Breeder
The beginning of my blogging days
So, I was creepin' my amigo Gina's facebook and I noticed she had a blog so, being the fruitcake flake (sounds tasty) that I am, I read it. It was truly captivating (no lie). I mean, I actually felt like I was watching a sitcom. I was enthralled. I don't expect anyone to pour over or even skim this but, it seems like a good way to express myself. So I am not exactly an ace writer and there is serious potential that I could be found lacking in an honorable or even passable English mark. However, I feel "a weight lifted off my shoulders" and I have a better understanding of things when I write them out.
Other than that, I haven't got much to say.
Until next time, Ciao.
Jenniferthewhalebreeder
Other than that, I haven't got much to say.
Until next time, Ciao.
Jenniferthewhalebreeder
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