Straight To the Point.

I have homework.

A lot of it.

There's no way around it. And it's due in 8 hours.

My adderall has kicked in and all I want to do is continue organizing my iTunes, watch destination truth and continue jamming out to Dolly Parton.



I met up with Vanessa for a little bit today. I hadn't seen my other half in almost a week and I was missing her biggest of times. We sat down and she told me about the conference she had been at and all the exciting and inspirational stuff she got to witness and take part in. I felt bad because all I had to bring to the table was some debbie downer shiz, which is normally so unlike me. But with being holed up with the stomach flu and going to court this week, I didn't really have too many exciting things to talk about that didn't involve projectile vomit or becoming someone's bitch.

As she asked about what was happening with probation I saw our nice conversation taking a quick right to Downer Town, and just as we were about to hit the border she said the best comment ever:

"Yeah. ***** went to jail once. He said they got some really sweet Chukka's that you can't get anywhere but jail."

My sweet sweet little besty. Cheering me up with the possible dope footgear I might get to rock on the inside.

And for that I love her. As well as all of my wonderful friends who have been really supportive of my near nervous breakdown that I feel I've been on the verge of these past few weeks.

Thanks Dudes.


Well as for now.... I should probably start reading this book saying the report is due at 9.

Night loves.
N.

Breaking Out In Hives At The 52-1 District Court.

I woke up this morning with the pittiest off pits in my stomach. Today was my official Judgment Day at the 52-1 District Court due to a VERY minor violation of my probation (don't ask...but I promise you it was minor).

I got out of bed, ate a Baglefull, and got dressed in my most professional high-waisted skirt and high heels and began my mantra of telling myself not to vomit on my new outfit before entering the courtroom.

I met my father outside of the courthouse and as we walked in I was greeted by a police officer, ready and waiting to ask me to empty my bag and to remove all metal objects off of my outfit, per usual. I continued down the hallway and met my probation officer who gave me a small container and asked me take a drug test. (Nothing says "today's gonna be awesome" better than peeing in a small plastic cup.) Afterwards I was escorted into the courtroom and waited for the Honorable Judge Bondy to make his grand entrance and immediately strike fear in the hearts of all who awaited his presence.

As I was sitting patiently for my name to be called, I watched countless other lawful deviants be called to the stands and utterly crucified. I watched this poor 18 year old U of M student be sentenced to 1 year of counseling, JAMS, and daily AA sessions. I witnessed two 18 year old boys sentenced to 96 days in jail for violating their probation twice. As my name was called I was positive I was not returning to my seat on the bench without a jail sentence.

I slowly approached the stand and after stating my name, felt a sever heatwave come over me and began to itch a little bit. Great... I was breaking out in hives. That's right, as I was trying to convince this stone faced judge that I was a good person with good intentions, I was breaking out in hives and feeling like I was seconds away from blacking out. After stumbling over my words, and fighting the urge to not to fall to my knees and beg for him to avoid sending me to the slammer he interrupted me and explained he was extending my probation until the 2nd of February and ordering me to attend a Jumpstart session.

For those of you unaware of what Jumpstart is.... on Nov. 6th I will arrive at court at 9 a.m only to hop on the "Jumpstart Bus" and be hauled off to the Pontiac Jail where I will spend all of Thursday, Thursday night, and Friday rubbing elbows with official inmates. They even have activities planned for us. And not for one second do I doubt that said activities involve being screamed at until we're all crying like little babies by big butch inmates ready to grab us by our ankles shake us upside down the second our appointed warden turns their back.... or maybe we'll get to take Shanking 101...who knows.


All I know is that this entire experience has been horrifying and today was truly mentally exhausting. Fuck... I need a drink.


Just kidding.

Sara Palin Remix.

Anyone who knows me is well aware that I am indeed a liberal.

But I don't know anyone that wouldn't enjoy this....






Yes. That just happened.

This is how it goes...

But, despite the truth I know
I find it hard to let go and give up on you
Seems I love the things you do
Like the meaner you treat me the more eager I am
To persist with this heartbreak and running around
And I think that I know things may never change

Smiling at Strangers

Walking down the streets of Chicago, Vanessa and I were having a conversation that consisted of me explaining my spitefulness towards love and how it has failed me so many times over the past few years. It was immediately after finishing my long winded rant that i looked up in enough time to see a man working at a food stand look at me and gesture with his hands, the words "I love you". He was a stout man in his, what appeared to be, late 50's. he didn't make the gesture in an inappropriate manner, more so in a way that was meant to give me something to smile at. (Something I hadn't done for the greater part of our Chicago trip.)

It was this action that gave me a feeling I haven't felt in what feels like a lifetime. A feeling that out "there", somewhere in this world, there are people who want to make other people feel good inside. That there are people who have the ability to love someone else and come bearing good intentions. The idea that even though love and the concept surrounding it has failed more times than I can count on one hand, that there might still be a reason to keep trying.

This tiny, minute action has instilled a very small amount of hope that real love might still exist somewhere. maybe not in the greater Detroit area...but somewhere.