You know when grandma knits you mittens that you'll never use because your almost in your twenties? Well, my grandma makes hats and slippers. But i actually got a few somethings that seem useful in the mail that really opens my mind up to the oldfolk we forsake in society.
I am one of those pre-college jackass girls. I have a leopard print blanket on my bed, i painted my bedroom blue with clowds on an inclining ceiling, and animal skulls cast off into the corner of my room. I have more assorted crap the perifory of this computer than a barn. I have self-ripped holes in my pants, making me look like a tiger-mauled/bomb-victim, and i'm cynicle as a librarian.

As wearing mittens and off-beat slippers can be pulled off in my lifestyle, i have problems with them because on an every day basis i may get some polymer-yarn lead-poisoning. Having it around and touching me may distort my perception of reality as we know it.

Otherwise, it just doesn't suit me.

So, Grandma sent me stuff. I have a blue-bowed bed-throw, a comforter, and sheets which i can't complain about since they're for college and i'm broke. And complaining about gifts is just...anal.

But, i got a grey-blue-purple knit poncho. I _LOOK_ like my grandmother dressed me in it, don't get me wrong. But, I feel like a fuzzy-girly-immature clint-eastwood. Or the perfect hobo.
Mittens. Hats. Slippers. Then wham, i'm hooked on Crazy-Yahoo-Gunslinger garb.
Screw me backwards if you please- the thing is cozey. <3

And THEN i got free tickets to the Beatles Tribute concert.
...Which i need to research to see who's playing.


Oh, and Jury Duty is rather fun.
"Well folks, we have more bad news. The supreme-trial has been posponed, and the district...Well, the guy pleaded guilty because he didn't want to face you. You can all go home. See you in three years!"
Ah-ha...So...That's what America is made out of.

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Alright. So, I usually splam my blogs, but other than plugging away at work for 8+ hours a day, i've been dodging skunks at 3:30 AM. On foot. In the dark. No flashlight.

...Forcing myself to remain biased that maybe those things wandering towards me are not bunnies to go and chase.

The same method of thinking has lead me into wanting to make a self-owned art gallery, however, and have my own very website. I'm calling it "Generically Yours." This place actually spurred it, because by perhaps being an attention-whore, i'll get good results in TWO ways at once if i can lead people here or to the gallery, and make them touch two bases at once.
I'm putting my brains in my pocket, on this one. :P


Alright. So, focus, Jen, focus.
The Gallery-in-progress.

I'm a bit of an artist. I hack the use of "poetry" to shreds. But, I don't use ink and graphite as a tracheonomy tool to my personality. My head doesn't need another blow-hole to suck more air into it to make it bigger, so understand that if i mumble about it, i'm most likely being technical. Or emo, if i'm stressed.

And if i ever start talking with a permanent phoney accent, flick my wrists like a drag-queen, and wear clothes that belong on a mime and try to take it seriously, i'd shun myself.
Because in that case, i might be like a skunk in the dark. :P
Bad pun, i know. I'm a living avalanche of them as they come. And clothes are silly, anyway.


Oh, and there's a band called the Butthole Surfers. I reccomend their songs "Pepper," "Whatever," and the "Shame of Life."

*Insert the Reading-Rainbow jingle here.*


Over and out.

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Google does bring you to weird realms.

I just poked up here. Looks interesting, assuming i can figure out how to navigate this place.

Lick me.

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