just in general.

I had an amazing night on Wednesday. Unfortunately, it necessitated going to work hung over yesterday. And working out hung over. And spending the rest of the day brooding in my hung over-ness. I spent last night bonding with my brother Christopher. We experimented with my dad's waffle maker (for the record, banana chocolate chip waffles are the best) and talked about current events over some Dr. Pepper. His Brazilian girlfriend came over, though, and they watched one of my Denzel movies. So Sammy and I hung out, reminiscing and planning for the rest of the summer. Today is Charley's birthday so, of course, this forces me to have another amazing night (after work from 4:15-9). Diablo, Denzel, and Max's Opera Cafe. That's the plan.

when it's over.

My brother has an apartment in the Mission District, where taquerias are slammed up against trendy Ethiopian restaurants and the homeless sleep in the doorways of expensive boutiques that blast The Postal Service and bump French hip hop from 10 am to 8 pm on weekdays and 11 am to 5 pm on weekends. When we went to go visit him a few weeks ago, I thought about the distribution of wealth - in big American cities, in our nation, and in the world.

What have we been given, the upper middle class? New cars, condominiums, running water, home loans.

And what do we give back? More cars, more condos, we let our water run until the heat runs out of it, we whine and talk on cell phones.

Sadly, I know I'm just a part of this. I'm not a vegetarian or a humanitarian (despite my previous efforts) or a historian. I guess I'm just frustrated is all.

un update.

Strictly Straightforward:

I have been playing way too many video games lately, so I have decided to take a one-night hiatus... which will end tomorrow afternoon when all of my friends sleep over.

You see, my parents are going out of town tomorrow. This means that, in order to keep my house feeling warm and home-y, I need to make sure I've got plenty of company, games, music, food, alcohol, money, space left on my camera, and cat food (for the animal).

In addition (because, oh no, the fun doesn't stop there), tomorrow is San Francisco's Gay Pride Parade. So I will be tipping my glass of Long Island Iced Tea to Stonewall in 1969 and to the freedom of sexual expression- no matter how out of shape or gay you may be.

On a sorrowful/whiny note, I hate my job. Basically, I make as few sales as possible in order to not be fired and try to look as busy as I can. Then five hours crawl by, I go home and dread the day when I must return. Ugh. Counting down the days until Europe and pretending I'm Irish in Dublin. What's a good fake last name? McCullough? McClarsky? McISwearToGodIAmNotBritish?

And, uh, Brian, you are coming to visit me. Why? Because, in your heart, you know it's the best possible weekend plan you can think of. :)

My mother has also forced me into signing up for a gym membership. 'Nuff said.

would you know?

this girl is my new fashion icon. :)

In other news, my first day of work is tomorrow. Also, I am about halfway through with this novel I'm reading called Another Country. It explores race relations of the 1960's in New York City and how race, sex, and sexual orientation work upon each other to effectively skew the purity of love. I'm not sure if I buy the philosophy, but it's interesting. As a young and impressionable white woman, it's hard to buy anything I haven't seen in a movie, though. At least I admit it.

Last night, I drove Colin, Greg, Ryan, Evan, and Sal (Adam?) to Jack in the Box and we ate at the Japanese Tea Garden in San Mateo. It was dark and warm and dry. There were spiders crawling up walls. I could see their legs in the lamplight. I looked up into the sky and I could see stars, bright white and twinkling like the fireflies we used to catch in jars on summer nights in Atlanta. Except these stars were not confined to glass. They were only confined to the infinite expansion of the Universe. There I was. One tiny person. Surrounded by an eyeful of delicious light. Then, of course, Greg accidentally hit me with a tree branch, Colin jumped off of the roof and fell with a thud, and Ryan offered me a bite of his 50-cent taco. So I awoke and joined them in the darkness.

let it be done with.

I got a job. And a raise. In one day. Even after I told them I would leave the entire month of August.

I start work Tuesday, so that means I have to get all of my fun in before then.

Also, can someone come visit me? I don't care who you are. Even if I don't know you. Just let me know and we can become best friends. My parents have planned a summer full of motorcycle races and family vacations minus me and I'm going to be very lonely.

grand plan.

I want to get back on a plane and fly back to L.A. immediately. I'm thinking about doing it. At least one of these weekends. I can't do this. I thought I could. But I can't do this.

over and done.

I was at the airport today and I realized that everything I do in life, I do it the wrong way first and then I fix it and everything turns out okay in the end. I am referring, of course, to small things that happened today, but I think it can be applied in the larger context of my life. For example, I over-generously tipped the guy who drove the shuttle because I thought he said "bill" and wanted all my money, so I got really nervous and handed him what I had in my wallet. Really, he said "bag" and was asking if I had gotten all of my bags out of the back. By that time, I couldn't say, "Oh, in that case, can I have a couple of those dollahs back?"

Later, the cute guy who took my bags at the Frontier Airlines counter told me to take my bags to the kiosk to have them placed on the plane. So I walk over to the kiosk, or what I think is the kiosk, and I just stare at this huge black guy for a minute, waiting for him to tell me what to do with my bags. Then I realize that - without any words exchanged at all - this guy knows I'm an idiot and that I'm a stupid and small little girl. So he directs me with his eyes to the right place, where I successfully make a fool of myself by dropping my bags all over the ground right before handing them to the guy waiting.

In the end, though, everything gets done. I get on the plane, read my graphic novel about evil/hot aliens trying to spread their progeny on earth (thanks, b), listen to Ani Difranco, get picked up, and make it home to pet my kitty cat. But along the way I make misstep after misstep. This could not be more true in matters of my heart. Or matters of my driving. Or matters of my job experience. Or.... It's like my mind works in the exact opposite way that other humans' minds work, so I have to run into lots of screen doors before I learn to open them. It's not that I'm dumb or out of touch; I am just completely dysfunctional. I know this. But I do well for myself nonetheless.

size too small.

In pieces of postcards, I will find you again. Somewhere where I'm out finding myself. Among those shreds of paper, I will feel your hands again, haunting me. I will miss you. One of these days.

cold.

So I'm about to give my last speech in my speech class today, thank God. Hopefully, this time, the professor won't be so effing mean about it.

higher speed.

Lately, my dreams have been so real and vivid. And I just keep going around and around and around in circles and never progressing anywhere in them. Things that I didn't even know were bothering me are coming to the surface to plague me while I sleep.

Then I wake up and realize that nothing will ever be the same again and all I want to do is go back to sleep. Then I go back to sleep. And the dreams return.

So, basically, I don't know which is worse: sleeping or being awake, trying to drag myself through the next few weeks.

Television is a nice escape. Then I realize that I've been watching Flavor of Love Girls Charm School Starring Mo'Nique for three hours. So I suppose the only viable alternative is studying, during which I do not have to think about myself at all. I always knew things would be like this, and I still know that everyone is going to make it to the other side and be just fine. But this summer is going to be one of so many transitions and I just can't look past them right now. They're like this huge storm that I can't run away from in time. And, this time around, I have no one to cling to except for myself.

garden of contemplation.

Last night was such an emotional mess for me. Here is a general play-by-play of my emotions last night:

Awkward... my hair wouldn't curl right
Excited... my hair curled okay and I walked to the pre-party with Rashmi and Wafiqah.
Disgusted... tristan ran out of chasers at his apartment so we had to chase with tortilla chips. not quite the same effect.
Spinny... the vodka kicked in.
Annoyed... a certain someone kept coming onto me.
Outgoing... i met several people i've been meaning to meet for awhile.
Drunk... the vodka really kicked in.
Frustrated... john was being stupid.
Happy... brett and amber showed up.
Angry... john spilled vodka all over my arm
Lost... my favorite sweater (the tan one from ann taylor) has now found a new home, either on the street or on a dirty bus.
Even more angry... john tried to abandon his section and sit with photo.
Ridiculous... i started crying uncontrollably while explaining my anger to John.
Satisfied... i met the other girl from my internship next year, and I really like her a lot.
Even more drunk... i drank more bourbon.
Confused... the following sequence of events is quite muddled in my head.
Un-hungry... the food was delicious.
Sad and cry-y... i saw Melinda crying and I, too, broke into tears uncontrollably. Then the slideshow came on and I couln't hold anything back.
Reassured... Dave and Julie/Mark and Ro are so cute.
Insanely happy... I danced with the cute intern.
Insanely/irrationally upset... this one I will not explain.
Loved... amber and I worked it out. We are so amazing.
Entertained... the dancing continued.
Out of it... the bus ride home is a blur, except for singing Kelly Clarkson and Fergie.
Sad and cry-y x2... John left. Mark and Ro left. Tissue box was passed around.
Nostalgic... all of the turtle rape videos and CJ discussions and editing disasters washed over me at once.
Relieved... john came back, so it was one less person I'd have to force myself to not think about.
Tired... i came home and passed out. Then I had one really weird dream involving my co-workers and another weird dream about an eyeless zombie apocalypse and my friend's ex-girlfriend.
Depressed... i have hit an extremely low point that i can't remove myself from. It's mostly because I have yet to obtain perspective on the last year and it hurts a lot to know that all of these people who I practically lived with for the last year are now going on to start their lives. While I, Carrie Jones, am staying put and watching the world twist without me.

spin.

About an hour ago, Mark imed me to tell me that he wanted to make a sitcom about my life. And then I realized that, as a character, CJ is insanely loveable. As a character. I ask myself if Carrie, too, is loveable. Tonight, I say yes.