The Eight.

Mystery Girl! tagged me with this meme. (Actually, she gently suggested I play along. I comply.)


1. Post the rules, then list eight things about yourself.
2. At the end of the post, tag and link to eight other people.
3. Leave a comment at those sites, letting them know they've been tagged, and asking them to come read the post so they know what to do.

Let's see, eight things about Jill: I like ice cream, men, photography, yoga... Oh. You wanted stuff you don't already know, didn't you? Hmmmm...


1. A few moments ago, I got some blueberries out of the refrigerator. On the countertop next to the refrigerator, we have some steak knives. While serving myself some blueberries, I imagined a steak knife falling off the counter and chopping one of my toes off. Not all of them. Just one. I then wondered if other people imagine things like that.

2. It was not the first time I imagined a steak knife falling from the countertop to chop one of my toes off.

3. It seems that my imagination doesn't get quite so very detailed with the choice of toes, because I cannot recall if it's always the same toe.

4. However, when I stop to freak out over the thought of possibly getting a paper cut on my eyeball, it always seems to be the right eyeball that takes the cut. I think.

5. I am concerned about you if you really want me to continue with this list after what I've just written.

6. I can't seem to get the iSkin on my iPod properly. Actually, the proper terminology seems to be "I can't seem to 'make sure the VISOR is inserted in-between the edge lips'."



7. Today I also learned that "When correctly inserted, the VISOR should be sit (sic) firmly in-between the lips of the eVo3, flush on all edges and will not slide."

8. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer the sliding.

9. Just sayin'.

10. I would also add to the directions something about being super-careful when fitting the rubber, else you poke a hole, and end up with some little swimming visitors you weren't planning to hostess.

11. Clearly, I have not followed the "8" rule.

12. So I won't be following rules #2 or 3 either.

13. The meme dies here.

14. Die, sucka, die.

15. In the summer I usually sleep with the air conditioning on pretty high. Consequently, I use an extra blanket that I don't bother to use in the winter.

16. I cannot sleep wearing socks.

Randomosity, the likes of which this blog has never known.

Hey... Wassup... How's it going. So, yeah... I... um... Yeah, I know I haven't called in a while. I've been, you know... running around and stuff... No. Of course it's not you! It's me. It's me, it's me! Trust me, it's always me.

Oh wait. I wasn't going to open my old baggage anymore.

SCRATCH THAT!

*****

I used to blog. I blogged. I was a blogger. Are you still a blogger if you don't blog? What if you re-design your blog and don't write anything? What if you re-design your blog and then party for a fortnight, but you're getting older, so you can't party like you used to, but that's okay, that's cool, cuz you really don't wanna party like you used to, you maybe just want to catch up with some friends now and then, but prefer to spend more evenings on the sofa with the sci-fi?

And concerts. Shows are always cool, live music, live music rocks, literally, and wouldn't it be cool to just see a lot of live music, but not so much party afterwards anymore, maybe just, you know, come home and lie on the sofa with the sci-fi? Yeah.

Because that whole "find a way to get your friends, who incidentally, are trippin' ba!!s, home, in one piece and preferably alive, at sunrise, from a secluded warehouse in the middle of fuck-all-I-don't-know-she-was-the-one-who-drove (who? her? that her? the one making out with her water bottle in the back seat?) industri-burbia" thing? Is so 1995. SOMEBODY HYDRATE HER. THAT SHIT WILL MAKE YOU SWEAT TO DEATH.

Oh, I'm not ruling out the.. uh... live action, you know action is always good, action, play, nookie, lovin', that's some good stuff--well, if it's good. If, you know, the dude has a clue. If the dude has a clue even when he's not... um... SCRATCH THAT.

NO, DON'T LICK THE BOTTLE.
DRINK IT.
DRINK IT!
DRINK THE FUCKING WATER!

Yes. Lovely. Lovely I think, live music, good music, good live music, an uneventful trip home, the sofa, the remote, the sci-fi... and good live action. Am I getting old? And if I were, would that necessarily be a bad thing? How about mature? Mature, not old. Yes. I like that.

Here's to maturity, people. Rock on.

Two random thoughts from my Friday morning...

1. Dumbass is the new cool. (More on that soon. With thanks to Peefer.)

2. Chocolate protein shake + popcorn... kinda like ice cream and potato chips... but not really.

This one's entitled "Oh fuck! A retraction."

And it's direct dialing.
So I'm sorry if it makes no sense to 99.9% of you.

So, um... sometimes coincidence causes messages to be sent off into the universe.
And those messages are completely unintended.
And not noticed by the sender.

So, MAYBE, let's say, I saw this really cool fence.
With awesome clouds.
And I really liked it.

And then MAYBE I saw this chick.
With attitude.
And she was really cool.
And I liked her work a lot.

And then MAYBE a few days later I DID send a purposeful message off into the universe.
But... um... MAYBE there was this other signifier nearby that I didn't realize was there?

And then MAYBE, a few days even later, I said...
"Oh crap, will ya look at that?
That could totally be taken in a really rude way."

Or maybe not maybe.
Maybe definitely.

I really hope the intended recipient of aforementioned purposeful message had been too busy to notice aforementioned unpurposeful message.

But if not...
Whoops.
Sorry.
You know I'm not like that.
I hope.

I'm gonna unsend that purposeful message now.
So it's not there.

Oh my God, I have a blog!

I'm just being silly. The truth is, I have not forgotten you. I've just been trying to take some pressure off myself. For the first time in... forever. It's been going pretty well.

I did some loitering with Hilary.



Photographed some random strangers. (This one's actually a female! I know, different for me, right?)



Got in some exercise.



Cut a men's XL t-shirt in half and then knotted it back together. (So it would be Jill-shaped, of course... Then made a photo collage of it.)



Ran along the boardwalk in the rain.



And was pretty ecstatic about it.



Pondered the sea. (Actual location is in full color.)



Sat on the beach and got some revising done.



So, yes--that means actual writing is forthcoming~

And a new, improved Jill.
(And a new, improved JillWrites... re-design is almost complete.)
Hope you'll still be here!

Holy amazing, Batman. Not overthinking is so effing cool.

Pretty much what the title says.

What have I done this week?
Wake up.
Go to beach.
Walk.
Get tired.
Eat.
Shower.
Nap.

This is the non-routine it took for me to just live.

Not think.
Not over-think.
Not analyze.
Not over-analyze.

Just live.
Just fucking live.
Not hide. Not hurt.
Not feel empty. Not feel like I can't breathe.
Not have nightmares. Not worry.
Just.
Live.
It is fucking amazing.

I strongly urge you to join me here at your earliest convenience.
I'll bake cookies.

The Adventures of Jill and Hil. Now not only in New York City. But on Blogspot, too!

That's right. Hilary and I have started a collaborative blog where we will be posting tales of our collaborations and escapades. There is much in the works that I am not at liberty to divulge just yet... but I daresay you will be entertained.



Check out our blog, The Adventures of Jill and Hil. And if you're on Flickr, add us to your contacts. We're JillandHil there as well.

Have no fear! I will not be deserting you here! I have fiction I'm dying to post, a play that I can't stop talking about... Oh yes, and the small matter of some of my best friends thinking I am a Sith lord. That discussion is not over. Not to mention we've got Harry Potter geekdom to revel in. (I haven't forgotten.)

Coming soon: why you should forgo your daily latte; our fictional writer-heroine wakes up in a room that she didn't write; and a guest post from phenomenal geo-geek Casey. Anyone else brave enough to guest post? :)

synesthesia

crème brûlée with blackberries and shavings of chocolate in a rocky trickling stream of clear cool fresh bedsheets just before May dawn


Everyone should start off the week with a joyous sensational mix-up. Throw some sensations together and evoke your happy place.

Do it.
Now.
Because I said so.
Happy Monday, loves.

*ahem* ...shameless begging to ensue

The good news: My new play has been accepted to the New York International Fringe Festival! This is prestigious! Plus, my play is funny! And titillating!

The not-so-good news: Theater costs money. Plus a lot of time, energy, and stuff.

Conclusion: I could really use your help. And the help of any human being you know.

My newest play, The Boy on the Other Side of the World, is going to be presented at the New York International Fringe Festival in Manhattan in August.

If you are so inclined you can:
~ Say supportive things. (I need them! See that nifty widget below and in the sidebar? That's Evoca's dandy browser mic. If your computer has a mic, you can leave me an audio comment. Only I hear them!)

~ Buy tickets in advance when they go on sale late July. (Link to come!)

~ Volunteer your labors in many many ways... (Tell me what your skills are and I can find a use for them! Email boyontheotherside@jillwrites.com.)

~ Donate whatever money you find on the street, in your pocket, or in the wallets of your friends when they're too drunk to notice. (My theater company has a 501c3 tax exemption so all donations to the production are tax deductible. That link or the widget below--also in the sidebar--takes you to our Chip-in page. It's safe! It's secure! And every penny helps! PLUS we'll put your name in the groovy programs!)



Read more about the play under "My New Play".

And thanks to two tireless women who are already on board:
My dear friend Brooklyn Hilary, the multi-talented photographer / stage manager / production manager / go-getter / business woman / wrangler of Jill is my right-hand woman in this endeavor. And my long-time theatrical collaborator-in-crime, Thinking Violet, will be magically assisting me from her new perch in Chicago.

Wish us a lot of broken legs.

I am lucky as f*@& to be in one piece right now.

Hey, so remember how I wrote that fictional story about the chick that blacks out? Yeah, um. So I wasn't in a church. And as it was approximately 2:10am, there was no one there to catch me, either.

I had a sore throat yesterday, so I didn't eat much of anything. Plus I had a bunch of running around to do. Before bed, not thinking that I hadn't eaten anything, I took a shot of Nyquil.

I woke up a little after two and my throat was burning, so I went to the bathroom to gargle. But I felt... something. So stopped and turned around to get back to bed before something happened. I didn't make it.

Which was a shock to me when I came to about 10 minutes later. With my mouth pouring blood all over the floor in the hallway. I had no idea where where I was. Then I realized I was lying on the floor in the hallway. The blood was warm and still flowing. I hadn't made it back to the bed.

My next thought was "Oh crap, if my mother wakes up and sees me on the floor outside the bathroom in a pool of blood, she's going to have a heart attack.".

I got up and grabbed a bath towel to wipe the blood. When I fell, I must have hit my face and mouth on the wooden banister of the stairs. I bit the inside of my upper lip really hard or the wood gashed it. I actually had a splinter and there was some flesh... um... I'll spare you the details. I had fallen on the right side of my body and the right side of my face took a hit as well.

But I'm lucky. I didn't fall down the steps or over the banister. All my teeth are intact. And the bite in my lip is in such a place that it will heal well and rather inconspicuously. All I've got is a swollen lip, a little scratch that didn't break the skin, and a sore cheek and shoulder. On the plus side, I woke up before I could have killed either of my parents with terror. Holy hell. The mouth bleeds a lot. It's a good thing I'm not afraid of blood.

Peek-a-boo!

Alternate title: Back to blogging.

Hello dear friends!

I'm back to blogging. Not that I was ever not blogging, just that I've been working only on my major writing projects (and often procrastinating working on my major writing projects) and not treating this as the venue that it is--a place for me to put stuff out there, interact, get feedback, and (perhaps most importantly) enjoy the process.

So, here I am. It may take me a bit of time to get back into my regular commenting activities but I'm here and planning to stay. My posts may often be shorter than usual, or of unexpected topics. But: I miss my blog. I miss the blogosphere. I miss the interaction. I miss the days when my blog was something that added pleasure to my days.

Also, it's my half-birthday! Tell me, have any of you ever entertained the thought of acknowledging or celebrating your half-birthday? Do you make up holidays and reasons to celebrate? I do it all the darn time. Happy half birthday to me! And happy Monday to us all! Who's got the cake?

Oh, and while I'm on the subject of birthday cake, let me tell you about my favorite. One of the highlights of Staten Island, in my sweet-centric opinion, is the Mother Mousse bakery. They make a vanilla cake layered with cappuccino mousse and fresh whipped cream. Which may then be topped with chocolate covered strawberries. It's orgasmic.

Your favorites?

You would think that it's my preschool alter ego posting this, but in fact, no.

I am dangerous.

I am a very dangerous alien crayon creature, I'll have you know.



Dangerous, I say.

What?

You don't believe me?

...

...

...

"RAAAAAAAARRRRRR!"



There.

I told you so.


(If you're here to discover something I did this weekend besides doodling creatures on table-cloths, please check out the two note-poems I created on Flickr--storm - clouds - horizon - sky - eye - reflection and sky. 'Twas fun. So I created a set for them, and I plan to add more. Happy Monday, darlings!

I'm in my underwear.

Kinda.

On Hilary's blog!

That's right; after nearly two years of blogging everyone else's lives, karma has come to get me. Go check me out.

And celebrate

INTERnational Underwear Week!

(Yep. Hilary made it up. But that means you get to see our undies. So does it really matter if it's fictitious?)

Anyone who wants to join the cause should feel free to show off their skivvies.

You've met my wordless photo essays before. Allow me to introduce a variation.

The wordless photo essay completely based on Jill's whim. There's no story, just... Well, what do you think it is?

BOO!

Sicky status: Feeling somewhat better.
Weather: Springier than spring.
Thusly: Jill got to relax outside.
Conclusion: YAY!

Random thing that my brother got to mock at our weekly dinner:
I ate a chocolate-covered ice cream bar. I was in the back seat of the car. It was dark. I dropped chocolate on my shirt. I didn't realize it. It smudged. It looked like I pooped on my boobs.

Really: Not a cool fashion statement.
Sometimes: Jill's just a mess.

Also sometimes: Sentences just appear.



I don't know where they come from.
I occasionally know where they are going.
I might not know what they mean.
It doesn't mean they don't have the right to be there.
It just means inspiration comes when you least expect it.

And: Lately, it doesn't only come with words.

I'm liking the visual experimentation; I'm enjoying the process. It's something I've wanted to get back to for a while.

Also: It's fun to get messy with pastels.

Because, remember:
Sometimes: Jill's just a mess.

And: That's not always a bad thing.

So: How are you today, my darlings?

P.S. Ides, March, beware, et al.

Who designs this stuff?

Or, a better question, who actually buys it?

Yesterday, I went to the mall with one of my friends, as she was on a quest to find undergarments appropriate to the bridesmaid's dress she will be wearing to her sister's upcoming nuptials. (The wedding bug seems to be going around... Oh, wait, it's June, huh?) I was wandering about the Macy's lingerie department when I spotted this calamity.

It looks like Mary Mary Quite Contrary's garden puked all over the bedsheets.

I want to know:

1. What woman goes shopping thinking, "I know exactly how to seduce him. Little pink embroidered flowers!"

2. And what kinky gardener that strategy would possibly work on. "Oh, baby, I love fondling your tulips."

There is no reason to buy this outfit unless you are producing a soft-core production of A Midsummer Night's Dream for, say, Skinemax, in which case this would be the ideal costume for Titania, the horny queen of the fairies. And then, only if you insist that the rest of the cast mispronounce the name "Tit-ania".

She ends up screwing an ass in that play, by the way.

Randomness.

But who cares? There's a long weekend coming up. Well, at least here in the U.S. And I especially don't care because once I turn in these final grades, I am FREE!

Thanks to all of your for your encouragement of me getting some relaxation last night. I did read.

This morning was beautiful, and I took more photographs of the peonies in my backyard.



Which really make me happy.

Except the happiness didn't last. And I got a bit discouraged. At all I want to get done. At all I want to write.

So I uploaded the pics to my Flickr account, and I started clicking around, looking at my contacts' photos, and my contacts' favorites lists. And on Brandon's favorites, I found a photo of mountains taken by a college kid named Colin when he was hiking in Montana. By this point, telling you I found a cool person via Brandon is like saying "Oh yeah, and by the way, I brushed my teeth today as well."

(And now all of you people that Brandon introduced me to, virtually or in person, ought to be feelin' pretty flattered, huh? I hope?)

I was inspired. I started jotting down some dialogue, and I realized that I had a short play coming to life.

Yay!

Let me try that again.

YAY!

So I went down to the bookstore, got my favorite table by the window, and started typing.

I wrote a ten minute play today, blogiverse. Go me.



P.S. Mudge, when you read this, answer your damn email.

Spring has sprung. And it hurts.

In my first playwriting workshop in college, the first thing we learned was not to make excuses for our writing. I subscribe to this principle faithfully.

But, because I love writing, and because I appreciate having readers at all, I feel obliged to explain the lack of writing. So please don't think of this as an excuse; it's a thanks in advance for your understanding.

Apparently, I'm allergic to things. This is new to me. I can choose a terribly itchy throat, so much that it wakes me up at 5am, or I can choose medication. Guess which one I choose.

While I'm loopy on allergy medication, I'm fretting over the two piles of papers I haven't had time to grade yet. I am quite behind.

AND, a professor is coming to observe my teaching on Tuesday. AND, I may not have a voice to teach. BUT, my students do adore me. In fact, one of the girls was late for class so she picked a daffodil for me on her way in. Am I allergic to daffodils? I don't think so.

Also, yesterday was the bridal shower for my future sister-in-law--which was fun for a lot of reasons, not the least of which being I got to fashion a hat and a bra out of paper plates, ribbons, and bows. The general consensus of the party was that it was the most impressive ribbon-hat and bra anyone had seen. We might just take that bra along for the bachelorette party. Pat Jill on the back. It even rivaled the Vera Wang-inspired wedding dress I improvisationally fabricated out of a roll of toilet paper at the last shower I went to. Someone call Heidi Klum and get me on Project Runway.

On a positive note, my play is evolving in my brain, and soon I will be able to focus on where I want to take it. Damon and Callie are back in full force, even if they are in isolation from one another. Therein lies the drama.

There is so much I want to write and so many things that I am excited about--including all of your questions--that my physical exhaustion and my other obligations are causing me to pout like a petulant child. I'll just chant "I love Mondays" until I fall asleep, and--I hope--wake up rested and ready to take on this week. Here's hoping that the 12-hour relief promise gets delivered upon.

So I leave you with this photo. The trees may be killing me, but at least I can make something pretty out of them. Happy Monday!

Phone Home

I don't teach on Thursdays. My body apparently is well aware of this because it decided to go on strike today.

My day started as usual: morning routine, yoga class, eat, sit down at computer. That's when things get a bit hazy.

Next thing I know, I'm in bed again. Still in my yoga apparel. I can't sit up without the room spinning. My eyes don't want to be open. I pass out. I wake up to see that my lucky plant is as non-functional as I am. I fall back to sleep. Five hours later, I realize I am very, very hungry.

Someone get me some Reese's Pieces.

I've been known to write on napkins...

Sorting through my shelf of notebooks and sketch-pads, searching for a self-portrait I know exists somewhere, I found this. I have no idea when I wrote it, who it's about, or which side I wrote first.

Happy Halloween!

This is me in the actual uniform I wore to Catholic school in the 8th grade, recycled (last minute) into this year's Halloween costume.

Ahh...to be twelve again. (Not.)

Trick or treat.