Welcome to my other blog. I started this one shortly after graduating from the C.I.A, to differentiate between my food and my other thoughts. It's a cozy little place with frequent weird but real, honest thoughts.

There's really not much more to say here, as anything mildly interesting is either down below or written in my Armadillo section above.
Hope you can relate to some of my thoughts and situations, even if they tend to be strange sometimes

Tuesday, June 23, 2009


I dyed my hair today. Don't ask me why. I've had this overwhelming urge to dye my hair blue, or pink, all last week. But based on the fact that my boyfriend, family and more over; work, would probably not appricated techinicolor hair, I didn't think about it again......

At least about pink hair. I think what I wanted, was to break free. From what? I don't know. Just break free Like the song. I want to break apart from other people and just be myself and be weird with my snazzy spots and funky hair. I've been feeling such a need to rebel, be different and just run.
But the thing is, for the moment, I don't think I'm running from much of anything. Other than the stuff from the below post. Which at the moment, isn't bugging me nearly as much. But that's just right now. Wait an hour and ask again. I'm like a freaking Magic Eight Ball. Indecisive, and possibly filled with blue liquid.

So, Monday I got a box of hair dye: Clairol Natural Instincts Cinnaberry. Number 22. After letting my hair stay nice and washed for the allotted 24 hours, and after I eagerly got home from work, I was excited and a little nervous to do this. What if my hair falls out? What if it turns red? What if I screw this up? But I was committed.

After dampening my hair and combining the two bottles, I went to work, wearing my rattiest clothes. At first, not much happened. Then, halfway through I noticed I neglected to put on the plastic gloves that would be best used to apply hair dye. Whatever. Too late now. I kept squeezing, squishing and applying, finally getting my hair into this thick mass of dye, piled on my head, kept with a hair elastic.

I only waited eight minutes, because I was unsure if the time spent applying the dye to the hair counted as the time spent with the dye in your hair.
Rinsing it was the odd part. I was so worried I'd leave hair dye in that I rinsed for a good 7 minutes before rubbing my hair with a towel to be sure it all came off.

Even though my hair was wet, it looked darker, and I was dying to see the results.

As my hair dried, I noticed something. My hair was at least three shades darker, and had an undenialable hue to it.

Is that...Is that...PURPLE!!? I looked in the mirror at my drying hair. Purple!!? It was so scarse that you could swear it wasn't anything. But I swear my hair is now the ever so slightest shade of purple. When the light hits it JUST right.

And I couldn't be more psyched. Purple hair that is not purple. "Cinnaberry" with "reddish hues
" my ass. This is PURPLE!

I blew dried the rest of my hair,hoping Matt would be home soon to see my darker hair. Sure enough, he walked in from work, and I sat on the couch (in good light) and played with my hair, looking at him. In the clear body language girls give to people that says "Guess what's different about me." He got the message. Eying me suspisuciously he said "You look.....Nice?....Did you get your hair cut?...(No)..Did you dye your hair?" (caught grin)
"Yeah! And look! It's almost purple!!"

He says he can't see it, but I know it's there.

This hair dying this is sort of like a fun, less deadly version of Russian Roulette. It's like trying a new beer, or a bottle of wine from a winery you've yet to sample.

Afterall, it's just hair.

You can't tell, but it's THERE.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

I am crazy.

I feel like I'm living a lie. I'm living this lie. I eat secrets. I don't tell the whole truth. I know better. I'm not allowed to express anger, frustration, any negativity. I don't know how to express it. It stays with me until it bubbles over in hostility and incoherent, furious rambling. Or emotion felt so deeply that I tear up, even if I'm not sad. I get so frustrated by my feelings, by what's going on around me, that I loose the ability to verbally express how I feel.
I don't know if the inability to express such feelings stem from my NF, or how I've grown up, or both.
This shouldn't be that hard. People get angry and are able to coherently and exactly say what's wrong, and how it can be fixed. Things aren't this hard for other people.

I hate Sunday. Sunday is my laziest day of the week. I sleep till 7 (or God forbid, 8), eat, watch Tv and generally do nothing. I'm actually kind of rested and I relax.

But that's when those thoughts creep in. That your life is passing you by, that you eat too much, are too lazy, don't work hard enough, that everything you do is wrong all the time. Where are you going in life? 'What happens next? Is this it for me?' 'Am I going to die young? I'm never going to travel'. 'My god, it's June and I don't think I can bear another bitter Winter in New England!' Sort of thoughts. Does everyone think like this? No.

Other people are happy. Other people know how to properly deal with their feelings.

I feel angry a lot of the time over various things; in my life, not in my life, in or out of my control. It doesn't matter.
"I have a right to my anger, and I don't want anybody telling me I shouldn't be, that it's not nice to be, and that something's wrong with me because I get angry."-Maxine Waters

I can't really help being angry some of the time. Is it normal to feel like this? I can't repress it. But no one understands. I've been trying to stave off depression for awhile now. Triggered by unusual or valid things, it brings me to feel like this, or with pangs of pain, or with irrational anger at the wrong people.
I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. Am I meant to be emotionally stunted my entire life? I'm going to have a freaking breakdown if this lasts much longer. I wish I had the balls to say "I'm angry with you." or "I think you're stupid." or "This is unacceptable and I will not put up with this any longer." or "SHUT UP!!!!" Man, that'd be great. A big dramatic blow up that no one will forget and no one will dare cross me again.
But would life be easier if I was a pushy bitch? Yes and no. I knew a few pushy bitches and they aren't something I'd like to have in my life. But having more of a backbone would be great.
I'm a jellyfish. Eager to please, not rock the boat and non-confrontational. But I repress how I feel, or don't shoot back with the truth that is known to both parties.

I do that all the time. And I'm sick of it. People must think I'm so stupid. I hate myself for letting things go on like this. Well, I've had it.

I am not one to be screwed with any longer.
"It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not." Andre Gide

Sunday, June 14, 2009


I sometimes wonder what it must be like to have things come easy.

There are few things in life that have come easy for me.
Relationships are not one of them. Forming bonds and attachments are easy. I can get a good read on someone fairly quickly and my instincts about them are almost always right. I like people almost instantly; customers, people I've just met, even waitstaff and cashiers. But after that, after the initial meeting, it gets hard.

With the Internet, I have a lot of people to talk to. People I've connected with from shared interests, shared disorders and similar experiences. But this stuff is easy; a dropped line here and there, brief conversations.

The real stuff kind of scares me. Going out with people means social interaction. Nothing to hide behind. Conversations in real time, not typing with minutes of silence being natural. I don't know how to handle myself in these situations. I'm weird. I'm painfully awkward and I'm not the person I'd like to be.

So I've always pushed the idea of friends away.'Friends? Me? I don't need friends. I barely need anyone at all. I'm fine on my own.' I've thought this to myself for so long over the course of my life I've grown to believe it. Even in college I'd quietly sit in classes, before they would start and observe classmates talk, laugh and make plans. I'd be so jealous. I'd act like I barely even noticed, while writing posts in my notebook with my iPod in my ear. Any scraps of conversation or even a greeting thrown my way was important to me, even though I didn't need anyone.

They thought I was weird anyway, so why bother initiating conversation if they just give you ''that look''? The look that they think you are stupid/crazy/weird and ridiculous for bothering to think they'd give you the time of day. I'm surprised that in college, not only do people still give you that look, but you're still hurt by it. One of those looks destroys a thousand friendly greetings.

Now I'm 23 and without any good social skills to speak of. NF has made social things difficult. Due to my own insecure problems and the idea that I've never quite belonged in the normal world.

To me, friends don't mean fun, laughter, and bonds. Friends means committing to time, being out later than you'd like, feeling pressured to do things you don't like to do, movies you don't feel like seeing, and time spent doing stuff that can be better spent doing things yourself.
This is terrible of me to even admit out loud. Way to get friends, Jenn. Tell them you don't need them, that'll work. Having friends means letting people in. My instincts are to keep them out.

It's a wonder how I have a boyfriend. I met him by chance at an Anti-Valentine's day thing that my classmate (and his R.A) was having. I'm lucky to have found someone that puts up with this. But he's not the going out kind of person, so, somehow we work.

I don't know what I want. I'm terrified of social interaction. Nearly every 'friend' I've ever had has left me, turned on me in cruel ways, or just disappeared (only to return and never speaking to me again). Mostly it's been turning in cruel ways. So I don't let myself get set up. I'd rather be friendless by choice, because then who the hell can turn on you? No one. No one can turn on you if there's no one there to begin with.

It sucks, but it's true. I have a boyfriend who's my best friend, and it's taken me a while to trust that something like that wont happen. But still, I wonder.

By now you can probably tell I have some serious social issues. But it comes with the territory. And it's all my fault, anyway. Maybe if I wasn't so weird growing up, so different, I'd have friends and be popular. But then again, I learned early on in life, if they don't like you when you're yourself, then why bother?

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

It's been awhile

I seriously think I have ESP. Just today, in the shower; or in the car, or at work, or eating, I was thinking about my blogs and how long it's been since I've written much of anything. But I pushed the thought away, because I really doubted anyone noticed. No one appears to read it, after all.

However, a comment on both blogs, pointing out that I haven't written in awhile and asking if I was allright has sparked my interest. Who is this person?

I really hate it when y'all don't put a name or any clue as to who you are. =p I am dying to know who you are all!

Anyway, to answer the question; yes, I am fine. Just busy. Matthew came to visit April 20th (roughly around the time of my last post), to look for a job. And he hasn't left for more than 72 hours since! He got a job right near where I work. A cushy corporate dining job. Weekends/holidays off, some level of benefits, and uniforms AND a new pair of shoes every year! From a REAL catalog! How jealous am I? I like my job, but weekends and holidays off are something bakers only dream of.

Anyway, he's very well liked. And got a glowing 3 week review today.

As for myself, I'm still at the bakery, we've gotten new employees for Markets and stuff. Which is a blessing.

Also, in other news, I have bought a car!!! A car! I've been looking at cars, though not seriously for a few months. I know my dad is a typical dad, and wouldn't look at anything I'd like, just junky old crap. So I had to wait for Matt to come for his two-week job search visit.

I was pretty dead set on a Nissan, for reasons I do not know. I wouldn't look at anything...Why did I want a Nissan? Oh, because in Spring my dad brought home a Nissan Versa for a rental. I didn't like it, mainly because my first ride in it was in the small back seat with two other adults; in the middle seat. That car made me feel carsick.

Anyway, Matt finally convinced me to look a different models, and after having him look at a Consumer Reports used car issue, I settled on a Toyota Corrola, A Honda something or other, and a Toyota Camry, because they had good things across the board.

I fell in love (well, in like) with a 2006 Toyota Camry, black and a 2005 Toyota Corrola. The dealer was a nice guy and non pushy. Which I liked.

From there we hit a Honda in Westport, where a highly pushy guy wanted me to buy a new Honda Accord? With all the perks. For over $20,000. His logic? The payment plan was, and I'm, not kidding, 7 bucks cheaper than a used car.

We test drove the new car, and an old one, and left. We both felt cranky and agitated and in need of a drink. So I made a quick desison turn into a McDonald's, where we had cold drinks and discussed our next options. I for one was tired, getting more cranky and more frustrated by the minute.

Toyota of Westport wasn't much better.

I was stuck on the Toyota Corrola. It had less than 26,600 miles on it. It was silver. Drove like a dream. The breaks actually worked.

So, this car that I liked, when all was said and done (plates, taxes, registration, etc), would end up being around 14,500. Not a bad deal. Considering there was an 06 Corrolla at Westport with 35,000+ miles for $17,000+- before taxes and all.

My dad was skeptical. And not nice to the dealer. Which I hated. He also wasn't very polite to the credit guy at the credit union he told me to get in touch with. (A guy who loves the bakery, and was very cheerful and told me my credit rating was a whopping 764)

I ended up buying the car. I put down 8,000, and a very good loan rate on the rest. I mean, when your credit lender leaves you a message after you tell him the rates with a "Wow, those are some damn good rates." you best take them.

I am a car owner!! I love this car. I filled my tank a week and a half ago, and it's just down to 1/4th tank....240 miles so far! Insanity. I love this car. The way it drives, the headlights, the breaks. I promise to take car of this car as well as I can. I heard nothing but great things about Corrollas. =)

The blazer is no longer...But sitting on the lawn. When matt and I were in the blazer, on the way to the dealership to pick up said car, I began having a conversation with the blazer:

"Okay, so you've done me somewhat well for these past few years. But it's time for me to move on. It's not me, it's you. I don't care if you want to burst into flames when we are a safe distance from you when we get home. Just get us safely home and you can do whatever the hell you want. Okay? Okay."

I get in my new car, drive home, with Matt driving the blazer. When we were pulling out of the dealrship, I looked in the rearview mirror, trying to catch Matt's eyes to wave enthusasticly at him. And he had a weird look on his face. I wanted to call him to see what was up, but I knew better. What should happen when we park both cars? The blazer begins smoking. SMOKING! It's like it KNEW! He said the car smelt funny the whole way home.

That's what's new with me. Hope you enjoyed. But now, it is my intention to have some quiet time before bed. I get to go in at 6 am!! I cherish the 6 am days.

So, Mr.Ms Annon commenter, hope this did you well. Sorry for the delay. I'll try harder to keep posting, I just felt like I was writing the same stuff in the same ways, so I thought you all were sick of me. =\