i'mma seeing the coolest, most fabuloso person in the whole wide world.
and no, i'm not going on a date with my mirror.
i'm seeing my big sister! well, not really. but my cousin, mel.
whom i absolutely adore.
i am THIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIS excited.
multiplied by about infinity.
can you multiple by infinity?
don't you just get infinity again?
so it's like, the opposite of multiplying by one.
but yes, i just felt like telling you all that little piece of information.
because i have officially decided that i have discovered myself.
which is actually very annoying.
BECAUSE I PLANNED ON USING MY SUMMER TO DO JUST THAT.
now what am i going to do?
anyone feel like shopping with me?
or, you know, hanging out?
taking random trains in the city and praying we don't wind up in upwey?
haha, speech night '06. the great train escapade.
and speech night '07. the great tram escape.
good times, great classic hits.
and speech night '08? psht, nothing.
NO REHERSALS FOR JESS YAY.

anywho, on to what i was actually going to write here.
before i got oh so distracted.
yes, my attention span is | | that big.
and again, i'm dis to the tracted.
oh my, i'm high.
except i've been good and limiting my sugar, i promise!
and even my scrubs intake has been reduced.
yeah, i know. I'M REALLY TRYING.

and now my muse has gone.
i think i need to start making it jealous.
you know, go out with someone.
and then it'll come back to me.
i'm sick of being the other woman, i want committment.
and yes, i am talking about something that exists only in my mind.
but ten bucks says that i'm not the only writer that feels this way.
the muse is like the bad boyfriend.
who you hate and who takes you fro granted
but you can't stop going back to him because the sex is just that great.
where sex is a metaphor for writing.
a very bad metaphor, yes.
but a metaphor nonetheless.
okay, maybe i should be banned from ever talking again.
besides, everytime you say 'it's over'
he holds you tight and tells you he loves you
and you believe him because you feel so free
when you're writing, inspired by him.
and that's my muse.
the boyfriend from hell.
who is probably sleeping around.
and please, please, do me a favour.
DON'T GET MY MUSE CONFUSED WITH AN ACTUALL PERSON.
i just heart personification.

and now i'm listening to old school jonas brothers.
call me a loser.
but it's making me all emotional.
which is weird.
because i've never heard it before.
oh, hell yeah.
I AM THE EPITOME OF SCREWED UP.
but, oh how i love it.

drop dead gorgeous and everything i need,
sure, i don't know your name,
and baby, i know i never will,
one glance to realise i'm alive,
one look to remember life before the first,
brief eye contact and my heart starts to beat,
blood pumping through my veins, feeding
the butterflies that fly in my stomach,
the wild imaginings of a future,
the yesterdays fade to black, fade to where
they belong and all i can see is you
atop an escalator with your friends
that fresh, sharp smell of cologne,
and no, you probably didn't notice the
crazy girl staring at you, tossing her hair,
smiling like she's just discovered
that santa actually survives,
that everything that was once tarnished,
once mythical, once impossible to believe, is real
the fear of never moving on dissipates
replaced by something new, something familiar,
something i'd forgotten and now i know
that i'm alive, that i'm not just the ex,
that i can feel, that i'm still that girl,
the insane girl who went guy crazy, who
never ever forgot her friends, who crushed
like no tomorrow and checked out boys
without thinking of another and how she
messed it up, no, she didn't,
and now she's free again.

there we go. semi-true story.
well, two true stories.
but i made them one.
and exaggerated just a little.
who knows?
maybe that's the source of my happiness.

now, go jobro it up, yo~!
(six minutes is my recommendation.
so bad that it can only be good.)

peace out and God bless.

lovelove, jess xxxx