Well, some time ago I said I'd post some art. Here's a few paintings...or rather, all of my paintings. I have some drawings downloaded into my computer...I'll post them next.

This one is a work in progress.


"Swarbler" -- In't he cute?


"Midnight Snow Fight" -- notice the blood flinging everywhere...makes me chuckle...couldn't tell you why though.


"Lucky" was originally planned for many, many more sequin stars, but my the silver thread kept breaking. I got pissy and called it done.


"Ira" is also unfinished...but he's cute thus far.


Anyone who knows what was refrenced to make "Everything" gets a cookie.

Boys and girls. Girls and boys. Oh what a weekend. I am pooped.

I spent four gruelling hours with Heather at her wedding expo on Saturday. That is not something I suggest any single girl do. I don't care if you're the maid of honor, just don't do it. It's not yours and there is nothing you're really there for except the chocolate fountain and to try to help her get free stuff. It's like agreeing to shovel the neighborhood's dog crap for free. No one there wants to think that you or your situation exsists. Their single"ness" is gone and done with. They don't act like you're a pox upon them, but they sure as hell don't want to talk about making anymore effort. They've snagged their man and they're done with the process. Now it's all about the day and deciding on how they're going to change the man once they've taken the big white meringue off. Engaged women are vicious. Blah.

A little gathering I had planned after that did not go at all. I was waiting at a certian location for twenty minutes and not a single person showed up. That was smeariffic. I know, I'm sorry for being so gross. I was just a little miffed, seeing as I gave *everyone* two weeks notice, and the one person I was counting on showing up pouted her way out of it twenty minutes before. I keep rolling my eyes...they're bound to end up on the floor any second now.

I spent three hours on my interview today. Dear Lord. Then I forgot my cell phone so I had to go back with a refrence list. There is no reason for a marathon like that unless I'm running for government. I really want the job though. I can't say that enough.

I had so much fun last night with Bex and Merinda last night. It's true what people assume about women. We're all like balloons. We collect so much data (ours or otherwise) and it's like we just suck in air until we can just deflate and get it all out. I have no problem admiting I am that way. I'm really good about not busting first, but man oh man...when girls get together, it's like we're all sitting deflating right in front of one another. So hilarious. So much fun.

I've been spending an obscene amount of time with my iTunes deciding my favorite versions of the classics. This is what I've discovered so far: If Peggy Lee or Bille Holliday sings it, odds are they sing it the best. Also, I'm madly in love with "He's A Tramp" from Lady and the Tramp. It's Peggy Lee. I had no idea. That song is heart wrenching. Guh.

I am in a mood lately with all this crunchy goodness I like to call "winds of change." I was looking it up on dictionary.com, and yes, I believe it to be cheeky. I will not mention how much I was flirting last night (and maybe this morning, but that's another issue altogether), but I will say that it's completely out of character for me. I am the last person in the world to be brave, but I went for it last night. Of course, all cheek was focused to someone who set themself up for it. I've come to terms with it (seeing as I can't really take it back) and I'm okay.

I've decided my favorite part of Saturday nights is NPR. Jazz Junction kicks ass. I'm listening to a song I really want, but I didn't pay any attention to who's singing it or what it's called. Poo.

So yay.

Things seem to be going in the right direction for me. I have an interview for a new job on Monday (yessssssssssssssss). I pray to God that this works out for the greater good of my sanity.


I have been getting so angry at work lately. I get to the point where I've turned all my co-workers into grumps with me. That makes me feel awful. I am not that type of person at all. My entire presence is altered the second I drive up to the building anymore. Who knew more than two and a half years would be my limit. I really wanted to make it to three years. I really did. It's just that the job has become so stressful that it's taken a toll on my health. I don't get heartburn outside of work. I get so depressed so easily that I spend all my free time sleeping.

I had the most stress-free day today (which still isn't saying much because the stress is still heavy - being responsible for lives and whatnot) after going into Metro yesterday and putting my application in online last night. I have no idea what I'm going to do if this job doesn't work out. Bah.

Its official, cherubs. I start classes June 6th. I am going in as a "liberal arts major." Yikes.

Ah, so frame by frame: I walk in to Pam who is easily the same age as my grandma Linda, probably about 60 years old. She didn't remind me of anyone really. We sit down and she gets my basic information and hands me some financial forms before we get down to the nitty gritty. According to my assessments, I'm an english prodigy or something, and I've scored very well on the math portion that I needed to. I tell her I guessed through most of the math and talk her out of sticking me directly into intermediate algebra. ("Judging by the look on your face, I'm going to guess that you'll be taking the begining algebra instead...yep, pure terror.")

Pam offers me a second class and sugguests composition one. I look at her blank faced and ask her if there's anything "easier." She punched me in the arm. I swear there's a bruise there now. I just can't see that part of my arm, it's not like I'm a flamingo. She then points out my writing score of 97 and my reading score of 93. I clarify that the comp class will take precidence if I take them together. I have to take two logic classes together or I'll never get any of the math done. This seems to satisfy her, and here we are.

I meet with some financial aid folks April 13th. I hope I remember.

Oh children. It is a lot better than I thought it was. It's only a cold. So, I should be well pretty soon. I feel bad for the kids at work with me. They're all doomed. I was in the bathroom at work and about three or four of us were blowing our noses at the same time. It was pathetic.

Poop news: Sarah is in Des Moines now. Heather's leaving in three weeks for New Hampshire. I am left with no friends at work except Kristina--who has failed to return my last three calls & sits as far from me as the east is to the west due to our jobs.

So, the plan is to apply elsewhere, make new friends, pray that my meeting goes well with my counselor tomorrow & make something of myself so I can do something I enjoy for the rest of my life.

This has to be the most bland entry .ever.

I was thinking about this today. I downloaded Ben Folds' iTunes Originals Version and listened to Landed - a song I've heard a hundred times or so - and thought to myself, Ben and Rowlf need to make a record together. Or Rowlf needs to make a cover album. I'd totally buy it. I miss Rowlf. He's kind of like a hero to me. He was wise and melancholy at a time when I was the same way. Jr high was a bit of a wreck for me. I remember watching all of his monolgues in his movies and taking them to heart. That was dog was a peep to be sure.

I need to find a way to make that happen. I mean, if John Denver, Weezer, and Jessica Simpson can be homies with Kermie and the gang, Ben Folds and Rowlf can collaborate on a song or two. That'd be so kickass. Next thing you know, you've got a Muppets revival. I mean, comeon, Jimmy Fallon & The Electric Mayhem live in a comedy club near you? That'd be hot. People would be spreading all sorts of rumors about Pamela Anderson and Gonzo...I'm tellin' you, it'd be something amazing. The Swedish Chef with his own show on the Food Network? I'd steal those receipies.

I should start writing letters now..."Dear Jim Henson's son," --

Well kids, I'm officially sick. Again. I'm choosing to believe my lack of faith in my line of work is weakening my immune system because I haven't been around animals or smoke in the last week or so to cause my body to go haywire.
So, I tried some of my sister's cinnamon toast martini last night and all I could taste was tylenol. I do not know why people drink alcohol. It is not good. I mean, maybe my distaste had something to do with the Vicks inhaler or the lack of smell, but dear God in heaven that was awful.

Speaking of cinnamon toast, I was in the mood to make some french toast this morning. Come to find out, mom and dad didn't check the eggs this time and there are no eggs in my fridge. Made me wanna cuss. Pathetic, I know. I get really whiny when I'm sick. Good thing no one's here to hear it.

I've slept the majority of the day away. I should probably be doing laundry or something. I have no motivation right now. The not really being able to breathe well is kind of sapping all the motivation from me. About all I have the strength to do right now is walk over to my bed and close my eyes.

PS: Boo on Sunday tv. That is, until about 2100 hrs. Woo Grey's Anatomy.

Ummm...top O'the afternoon to ya!

Happy St. Patrick's Day one and all.

So, good news? I got downtime at work and went to Metro today to do my math and english assessments. It's confirmed, I suck at math, but I'm college level english. Woo. I have a meeting with a counselor on Monday so I can talk to them about Summer classes and what I want to do with all of this nonsense.

Mom and dad are out of town again, so naturally, I'm not telling them a thing until I've registered. Unless they get home and I can't hold it in.

Anyway, I need a new job. I'm *miserable* being a phone monkey. It's not a bad job. It's not bad pay. It's just that I'm subjecting myself to verbal abuse eight hours a day, five days a week. So it's time I do something that would move me on to bigger and better things. We'll see what happens with everything.

Self-motivation is murder. Anyone who has it is just a really good probation officer. I however am letting my self-motivation get away with anything. I keep denying my watch over it and ignoring all rules of probation. The only thing that keeps me keeping watch is a little green card that requires some punches. I'm not completely awful at following, but I do have a tendency to follow all the bunny tracks, too. I know, long metaphor, and possibly incorrect at that.

Tomorrow is day two of my new journey into self-project: ship up & shape out. Rediculous name, I know. That's because it was the first thing that came to mind. My jeans are slowly getting smaller and I don't want to stop the process, I want spur on several hundreds of dollars worth of jeans that get progressively smaller. Yes, I'm laughing at myself when I write that because I know what my success rate has been at following through with anything in my life. Three month winds, right? I'm already in a bad place if I'm trying to figure out if I'm going to take my gym bag with me to work tommorow. Doomed, eh???

I keep trying to figure out if I should make all this information public and thereby have to be held accountable and be humiliated if I poop out. Am I trying to make this something to help motiviate me? Bah.

I love my friends. I love the fact that I finally have more than three friends for the first time in two years. I'd trade sleep for friend-deprivation and a half-empty love tank any day of the week. I love that I'm living more sleep-deprived than ever. It's not sarcasm either. I love the fact that my parents are now calling me "nap girl" because that's all I ever do at home - take naps/sleep. I'm finally getting quality time in with people and it's been so long. It's hard to have quality time with people whose lives you know better than your own. Not that I have a clue about Kristin, but mom and dad...I see them every day all day and can't have a decent conversation with them without breaking into how our church is falling apart or how much money I have/don't have.

I needed friends desperately. I was so close to giving into old socially-retard tendencies. I thought I might spend some time singling out a few new friends and discussing in what way I feel like I've been sharpened by them.

Kristin - My sister & totally my best friend. I thank God that we get to be such a close part of each others lives. She is the spirit, the wisdom, the frankness, the silly, the understanding that is required for me to have some semblance of growth each day.

Kristina - Ears and a wide-eyed pupil, I can't believe she let me have any place of leadership in her life. I'm so thankful that she let me impart any wisdom or foolish ideals to her and that she worked with me to bring them down to earth and make them tangible. I'm thrilled that we've finally moved on to that place of equal footing and that she's found someone else to pour into.

Sarah - A second sister and cheerleader. She calls me her guru & I haven't the slightest idea why. I haven't been anyone's guru in a long time. I believe she's a gift from God to me to remind me that he's not finished using me. I've seen a lot of His mercy to me in our friendship.

Heather - Another second sister and cheerleader. She's so wide-eyed and honest and open and excited about life that I can't help but feel completely refreshed when I'm around her. I don't sense a single fake bone in her body and love her for that.

Vivian (Vivvy, Vivvers, Viv) - She is who she is. Loves like there's no one unlovable and no one who doesn't want to be loved that won't be loved. She is all heart and gives to no end. She is a force to be reckoned with & I pray God blesses every effort she's made.

Troy'n'Merinda - Family. I appreciate so much the environment of family I feel from these two. They'll take anyone in and make them a part. They find the lone wolves and weave them into the group. They're great teachers, great encouragers, and great people. I feel so honored to know these two in the short time I've known them.

Billy'n'Lindsay - Talk about two people I'd keep in my pocket if I could. If ever I was in a situation where I was forced to trade my sister in (which will never happen because I'd throw my body in flames to keep her) I pray I could find someone with half the love, sincerity, genius, and philanthropy that I find in these two. They sharpen me with (nearly) every word that falls from their mouths & remind me that I am not just another body to populate a census.

Top 3 Country Songs:
Don't Fence Me In - Gene Autry
Love, Me - Colin Ray
Walkin' - Patsy Cline

Top 3 Movies:
The Breakfast Club
Empire Records
Dogma

Top 3 Books:
The Phantom Tollbooth - Norton Juster
My Antonia - Willa Cather
Franny And Zooey - JD Salinger

Top 3 Bad Habits:
-waiting in aftercall at work and avoiding having to answer the phone at any cost
-using my credit cards
-leaving water bottles in my car

Top 3 Leads:
Lee
Kristin
Billy

Top 3 Reality Shows:
Project Runway
The Real World
What Not To Wear

Top 3 Liquids:
Water
Milk
Jones Juice Bada Bing

Top 3 SNL Characters:
Roseann Roseannadanna
Mary Catherine Gallagher
Garth Algar

Top 3 Magazines:
Domino
Spin
Time

Top 3 Redheads Ever:
Me
Danny Kaye
Lucille Ball

Top 3 Disney Characters:
Kronk (Emperor's New Groove)
Arcamedes (Sword In The Stone)
Lady Kluck (Robin Hood)

(Gracias Kristin!)

I think most of these pictures speak for themselves, but there is a story that I should tell you...




Right about this time, I received a text message from a phone number that I've never seen before. I shall share the exchange for you.

Strange #: Whats up with u 2nite it was all good really wasnt finish hated 2 rush call me Its Hard For Bitches To Get Money Like A Real B.
ME: It is hard for bitchez to get money
Strange #: Well everyday cant be xmas Its Hard For Bitches To Get Money Like A Real B.
Kristin: Um. You're calling my sister. We don't know who you are.
Strange #: Oh! I'm so sorry, I thought I was texting a friend.
ME: Who was that?
Kristin: Some girl. Wrong number.
Jenni: (laughing hysterically)




Ben did some fun tricks, like kicking ass and taking names. Also turned into a ball of fire.



It was an exhuberant concert...as you can tell by the fact that Billy's eyes were on fire!




This was us at Old Chicago. It's slowly becoming the one place Kristin and I are always invited to, because that's where all our friends go. No problem though. They have kickass spinich artichoke everything.

Zak And Sara
Ben Folds

Sara, spelled without an "h"
was getting bored
on a peavey amp in 1984
while Zak without a "c"
tried out some new guitars
playing Sara with no "h's"
favorite song

Zak and Sara

often Sara would have spells
where she lost time
she saw the future,
she heard voices from inside
the kind of voices
she would soon learn to deny,
because at home they got her smacked

Zak and Sara
Zak and Sara

Zak called his dad
about layaway plans
and Sara told the friendly salesman that
"You'll all die in your cars"
and "Why's it gotta be dark?",
and "You're all working in a submarine,
asshole!"

she saw the lights,
she saw a pale English face
some strange machines
repeating beats and thumping bass
visions of pills
that put you in a loving trance
that make it possible
for all white boys to dance
and when Zak finished Sara's song,
Sara clapped

If a honey bee produces honey, what kind of bee produces milk?

A boobee.

So, I've made a change. I'm sure you've noticed. I thought about doing something fancy, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it...so I've stuck with subtle. Feel free to tell me if it's okay with you. Not that I care, but yeah.

Oh, and I owe an apology to my speed dancing partners. I'll work on the arm thing (among other stuff).

I didn't get home until 2 last night. I had to call in late to work this morning so I could wash some clothes to go to Missouri tonight with my mom and not feel like a blue tongued skank or something.

I had so much fun last night. I didn't realize that being part of a documentary would involve takes. Heh. I guess the way they're doing this thing, it's okay. It's not like genuine social dancing can really be scripted anyway. Oh, that floor was so slick last night. I was using every muscle in my body to stop myself. My arms and shoulders are like rocks this morning (yesssssss!). Also, kickass, they played the King Porter Stop. I *heart* the King Porter Stomp!

They kept on Kristin like white on rice last night. That girl knows how to do some hair and makeup (I even got comments on her work on me), makes complete sense. She did look pretty authentic. Nate caught that her dress was really from the 70s though. The amount of knowledge in that guys head never fails to astound me.

That was over early enough. It was Old Chicago that broke me (hi Kate!) - and the fact that I drove Kristin, so I had to take her home. It was just as much fun though. Before we drove off, there was in impromptu show by Lindsay, Billy, and Kristin. I thought I was going to ruin my trousers. HIGH-larious. It's funny how no matter how silly they were being, they were still damn good. HIGH-larious - and in the rain and my car's headlights, no less.

So, I've been approached to dj for future JNOs. This both excites and terrifies me to no end. I like to consider myself to have a little knowledge of music and it's workings, but I'm still pretty ignorant to jazz as a genre. I feel like I'm about to play catch up now. I mean, I relize it's no great pressure to do so, but woot. It's still important that I live up to my own expectations. I am my own worst critic, I know. We'll see if and how this all goes.

So, I guess it's off to work now.

Not to be outdone (by no one but myself, of course), I just challenged myself to five minutes of pictures on Google of yawning...I was yawning after the first picture. No kidding. So much for some sort of record.

I actually have a night with nothing to do. I just finished watching Pride and Prejudice (Keira Knightley version - not as amazing as the A&E version - but still kickass in it's own right) with mom and now plan on cleaning up and catching some much-needed Zs before I am to marathon through tomorrow and work on Saturday morning and spend Saturday evening driving to Branson. This is going to be a weekend to plow through for sure.


I was looking at my calendar at work where I put *everything* - all scheduled events, all last minute gatherings, all future endevors. I have been so busy and I didn't even know it. How do I miss something like that? I haven't been so busy since my senior year of high school. Does that make me a kid again? It should. My calendar was littered with stuff. I'm sure my circadian rhythym is out of whack. It would certianly explain why I physically feel like I'm treading water all the time. Holy crap -- am I getting old?

So, I'm a bananahead. It's official. I went to Moxie Java today to ask out Mr Barista. Did I do it? No. Noooo, I chickened out. I did drop the hint that I am, as ever, interested. If he doesn't know by now...damnit. Anyway, I just have to say that I am possibly the world's worst flirt - aka - I stink at it worse than a two-ton banana out in the sun for a month. I think that would categorically qualify me as a bananahead. Bah. Next time.

Ah friends. I present to you a newer, brighter, sun-shinier becki. The sun has come out, the air is getting warmer, flip-flop season is on it's way. Things are on the up'n'up. I know, you've all just had an earful of a week, but I can say with complete confidence that the only reason that's the case is because I was home alone with too much time to think. Never leave me to my own device. All I'd ever do is think, and too much thinking takes me to a dark, dark place.

Well cats and kittens, I'll see you at Travatos if you're headed out that way.

Edited to add: I went back. I was a bumbling bananahead, but I did it. Maybe he'll show up. *nervous*

Edited to add Pt. 2: Boo. No show.