Any Time At All

I keep putting on the radio and expecting it to inspire me. All it really does is inspire me to listen to more music...and dance around my living room in my underwear.

So the circle continues and in the end I've gotten nothing done and the only thing I have to show for my day is a sprained ankle (I apparently can NOT dance like Shakira, no matter how hard I try.) and a sense of dissaccomplishment. (Is that a word? No worries--it is now.)

And with that I'm running again. Coldplay has been lying to me for over an hour and The Doors are teasing me from behind their namesake. I'm going to beat my head into the ground a few more times and go right back to jabbering on about nothing at all.

Oh and real quickly here's all the changes that have happened to me in the last 6 months:

*I moved into an adorable two bedroom apartment with this one kid I've known for a short while (we'll see how things turn out there. He says I hog the covers and I say he snores. Our life is so difficult.)

*My best friend since I was 11 got married. (What the fuck!?!?! Weren't we just little kids like 5 minutes ago!?!?! WHERE DID ALL THE TIME GO?!!?!?!)

*My cousin had a baby, the first family member of our generation to pop out a kid (babies having babies!)

*That kid and I adopted two amazing, adorable, and batshit insane kitties (I'm working on becoming the crazy cat lady early in life. I feel like I should accomplish something significant while I'm still young)

*I went back to school and signed up for a theater class with that same kid for old times sake (it's making me angry I don't write or perform more. And isn't that the point of school? To make you angry.)

*My great Grandma was diagnosed with cancer (I have nothing witty or constructive to say here so let's just move on and pretend I just said something classic and hilarious, shall we?)

*I found out not only am I allergic to fake sugars, but also eggs (not only are eggs a random fucking allergy to have but do you know how many fake sugar/egg based combinations that cuts from my diet? Like, one. An egg and aspertame smoothie.)


Now, there are a thousand other things I just left out. Six months is a short amount of time where a lot of shit can go down. But I think I'm going to save the rest for another day. Partly because I can't quite remember everything and I'm sure you don't care to read it, but mostly because I'm lazy. So.Very.Lazy.

A Day In The Life

I'm going to keep this short and sweet because I've been away for far too long, and yet I haven't the time to return.

Life has been nothing short of a big, scary, amazing, immaculate roller coaster ride lately. The drops weren't as horrifying as I'd first expected, but man, those peaks were exhilarating.

Looking back on all those memories I assumed I was better without....I was wrong.

A little over a year ago, while packing to move out of the house that knew my youth, I came across a drawer filled with all my old journals. As I flipped through the pages and scoffed at how naive and contrived I sounded, I felt foolish for wasting a lot of my teenage years doing nothing and complaining about it rather than bettering myself. For a moment I considered throwing all those old notebooks away. What do I need with ink stained pages detailing visions of a teenage wasteland?

I'm not sure why I choose to keep them, or even how they wound up with me in San Luis Obispo, but once again I stumbled upon them a few weeks ago while unpacking at my new place. I sat on the floor and thumbed through a few entries and suddenly I was angry with myself for ever considering tossing them out.

A lot of things have changed since I was 15, and there's nothing I can do about growing up. The memories I have, I cherish. Good and bad. And I have a feeling that one day I'm going to want the old me as a reminder of how it used to be.

It Won't Be Long

Boys and girls, today's word is "spontaneity". As in, rip off all your clothes and jump in the ocean 500 miles away from that term paper waiting patiently on your desk just because the mood to run far away and get naked struck. Appealing, no?
Now that the majority of us are--for lack of a better word--"adults", we feel far less compelled to be the random spontaneous kids we once were. After all, if you skip a week of work on a whim to road trip to Vegas with some friends you haven't seen in years, how are you going to pay your rent? (Don't worry, red is my lucky color. I'll win it all back and then some! It'll be like a real life Katy Perry video, right? Right?!?!) But every now and then running away, even if for only a few hours, can mean the difference between calmly getting that project done or drenching the people that happen to be standing around you in bits and pieces of brain matter after your head literally explodes. And dry-cleaning chunks of anything out of a polo ain't cheap.
Last Sunday my friend Mysha decided to exercise her right to live with reckless abandonment and the next day she was on a bus from San Francisco to see me. (Insert giddy schoolgirl squeals of joy.)
I love more than anything that she was willing to drop everything just to randomly spend a few days spending money we don't have and judging poorly dressed people behind their backs. (I never claimed to be a nice person, make a note of that.)
It's nice to just do something because you feel like it. I try to make it a point everyday to do something without pause. Whether it be buying those cute shoes at Urban Outfitters with what was meant to be grocery money or sneaking into some one's backyard at 3am to swim in their pool. I'm working my way up to the epitome of spontaneity and perhaps one day I'll sell all my worldly possessions and go on walk-about in New Zealand.
Until then I'll settle for buying Lucky Charms instead of Corn Flakes. You gotta start somewhere, right? Right?!?!?
How come no one ever answers me when I write out rhetorical questions? Hello???

A Hard Day's Night

It's never easy to admit that you're wrong, or that you've failed at something. No one likes to hear "I told you so" (although everyone loves to say it.). When I fall flat on my face or hit that all-too-familiar brick wall, I quickly turn around, make sure no one's looking, and brush my paw prints out of the snow. I pretend like nothing ever happened and hope that Cruella isn't on to me. Lately I've fallen down a lot. Although ask me tomorrow and I'll be in denial all over again. But things are still good. Great even. I got a promotion (which I'm pretty sure means I can punch people in the face and actually get rewarded for my services. I haven't tried it out yet.), my financial situation is slowly but surely improving (I'm considering buying stock in "NEW" new coke. It's bound to catch on the second time around, right?), my friends are bountiful (especially the imaginary ones!) and my love life is Matt-filled, and let's face it, I can never get enough of that kid (I would clone him and cheat on him with all of his clones if people didn't consider that creepy and a huge waste of government funded scientific research. But what do they know? These are the same people who let Woody Allen get away with dating his adopted daughter.) "So if things are so wonderful, AJ, why did you just blog about how bad things are?"...is what you would ask if you cared even a little bit...

But don't worry! You don't have to ask or even care, because I'm going to tell you anyway!

I'm at a point in my life where I've finally realized how dumb I am. Like, "early 20's but still thinks she can get away with acting like she's 15" dumb. And it's a shitty conclusion to come to. No one wants to admit that they don't rival the love-child of Ghandi and Einstein in the worldly all-knowing department. How many times did your mom say to you "You'll understand when you're older." and you replied with "No, I understand now! YOU don't understand."? Anyone? Anyone? Well I think I'm done saying that. The fact is I don't understand. Most things, actually. I'm learning and growing everyday but just when I think I get it all and have it all figured out something new and unexpected shocks the hell out of me.

I don't know where I'll be 10 years from now. I thought I did, but I was wrong. I change my mind every other day. I think for once I'm going to stop trying to plan it all out step by step because it fucking hurts my face every time I fall. And it's such a pretty face, I need to be careful.

From now on I'm going to tread carefully and make changes that I see fit. But who knows, 3 months from now I might be on a boat in Cannes snorting coke off Lindsay Lohan's backside.

But one can hope life has better prospects.

Strawberry Fields Forever

Today my alarm went off at 9am and for 5 minutes I cursed it's existence and pouted in bed before dragging myself to the shower. Now, 9am is not particularly early in my book. I'm actually quite used to being at work at 6:30 to sell lukewarm coffee and slightly stale muffins to old people who have nothing better to do than be awake at the butt-crack of dawn and lecture everyone they see for their "lack of respect" and "horrendous taste in music". But last night was my first night training as Supervisor at work (yay me!) and I was so fueled with the power of bossing people around that by the time I got home at 10:30pm I was too pumped up to sleep. I even practiced at home by bossing Matt around and threatening to "write him up" if he acted out of line. So when my head finally hit the pillow around 1:30 I cursed myself for the fact that Easter brunch in the am meant not sleeping in until noon as originally planned. But once I was showered and my face was properly painted on like the not-so-secret drag queen I am, I was excited to meet up with one of my favorite friends from home for a crowded but delicious Easter brunch at the Madonna Inn. Seeing Carizza is like seeing a little ball of sunshine (a sexy ball of sunshine!), she just lights up the room and instantly puts me a good mood. It made me miss home and all the people I once saw on a daily basis. As exciting as life is outside the nest there are some days that I miss ditching class to hang out with my friends. Once upon a time my biggest expense concern was how I was going to pay for my prom dress (a mighty fine looking prom dress, might I add.). After almost a year I still haven't acquired a lot of new friends in San Luis Obispo and it's not often I get to dress up and go out and socialize. The next few months are packed with life changing events. I'm planning my best friends wedding shower for May, and attending her wedding in the summer, my baby cousin is pregnant (!) and due in the fall, I'm working and living on my own and preparing myself for the upcoming changes in Matt's life. I have a plan and goals and things are falling into place. Everyone around me is growing up and it reminds me that I'm growing up too. I don't always like it, but unless someone mails me a ticket to Neverland and a key to a room in the Lost Boys cabin, it's not going to stop. For the last few months I've been plagued with these horrible dreams about money issues, family issues, and the stress of life in general. I already have enough trouble sleeping as it is, so giving me nightmares just seems like a cruel joke God likes to play on me when he's not busy fucking with underdeveloped countries. But the other night I had a dream I was on a swing. Simple as that. Me. Swing. Nice breeze. And it was the best dream I've had in a long while (Sorry dream where I married Ryan Reynolds, you've been beaten). It's amazing that something so simple can be so relaxing and mean so much. Now I'm determined to find a swing and just ignore the rest of the world for a while. Hopefully this plan won't end with angry parents calling the police to report a creepy girl on the swings at the park.

Good Day Sunshine

This morning when I woke up I just knew it was going to be a good day. It's a rarity that I wake up refreshed and ready to start the day without a cup--or ten--of coffee. Rather than fumbling around with outstretched arms like a brain-craving zombie (yumm, brains! Perhaps with a good garlic white sauce? Watch your back, Paula Dean!) I felt prepared to play the part of sexy zombie hunter, the kind whose makeup always seems flawless no matter how much of the apocalypse she's been through. I went to work and clocked in at 6:25 am sharp, because I am a show-off and I always have to be 5 mintutes early. When I walked into the office I stopped dead in my tacks because up on the bulletin board was posted the holy-of-holies on shiney white paper. A notice to all retail sales associates (that's me!) that a new supervisor position was opening at the end of the month and any employees interested in said position should submit their letter of intent. This excited me for two reasons: being a supervisor would mean a huge bump up in pay which is always needed and graciously accepted AND my manager personally pulled me aside last week and asked me to apply for this position. As excited as I am to hammer this glowing list of illustrious and noteable attributes that make me a valuable member of the Apple Farm team (oh, and money is good too. Yeah....money....) I can't get my hopes up too high. There are 2 other girls just as qualified as I am. My best defense against these formidable foes? My charm. On the 18th my manager plans on holding interviews with everyone who submits their letters. I'm going to smile a lot, talk confidently and be as witty and charming as my que cards allow. ;) Wish me luck!

I've Got a Feeling

When I started this blog I promised myself I would update often so everyone could have the inside scoop of what's going on in my not-so-organized head (isn't this a promise all bloggers make, break, and eventually apologize for?). Well I won't be making anymore promises to myself or anyone else for that matter. I owe you nothing and I hope you've come to expect nothing in return. Well, not nothing. I would hope that I'm interesting enough that you look forward to reading my ramblings and expect some sort of creativity to spurt forth like a stabbed artery at some point. Even if it takes weeks. So what is my grand excuse for being a shitty blogger, much like an absentee father who only shows up once a month to take Jimmy to the movies and is usually late and talks on his cellphone through the entire film, eventually getting both Jimmy and himself kicked out of the theater before Kurt Russell even has the chance to escape from New York, then drops Jimmy off an hour before the visit is even supposed to end because he has to pick up his girlfriend Cherry from her shift at hooters? Well, dear reader--and Jimmy--I've been writing. I know that sounds like a terrible and fabulous lie, because let's face it, even when I lie I'm fabulous, but it's oh so true! I've been on a roll lately. Inspiration stuck its little lightning rod in my ass and I've yet to be able to pry it from my swollen cheeks (too much imagery? I apologize. See! Imagery! That's something writers use!). Yesterday I hauled my lazy bum to the Barnes and Noble downtown, put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses and loaded up on books about the city of lights and hookers that resemble Nicole Kidman: Paris. I sat at a small cafe table on the second story over-looking the town, sipped my free water (because even coffee is out of my budget right now.) and started taking notes. A few weeks ago I came up with this idea to write a sort of twisted coming-of-age story set in 1960's Paris. And damn did I pick a great setting. The time period and the backdrop fit perfectly with my naive misfits. Drugs sex and rock and roll anyone? Basically since the start of February I've been filling my notebooks with ideas, timelines, plot-points and character developments. So far I love what I have. I'm not bragging by any means (although we all know that outwardly I'm fucking awesome) because I'm not all that confident in my writing and more likely than not this will wind up just another angsty teen melodrama to throw on top of my trash pile. But that's not the point. The point is I'm writing! I'm putting pen to paper for the first time in almost a year and I'm letting the ideas flow. I feel like I'm finally doing something with me life. Right now Bad Romance is streaming through my headphones because no one brings the crazy like Lady Gaga, and that's exactly what I need right now. So I'm going to go put on my Lobster headpiece, grab my disco stick and let the crazy flow. Then I'm off to pick up Jimmy and drop off yet another child-support check. And yes, I will be deducting the frozen yogurt I buy him from the total check. Life ain't cheap. Ciao, darlings!