My Favorite Place in the World

Today, I discovered another floor in Powell's books.

I didn't know it was there.

It was.

I was floored.

GET IT???  I seriously didn't even mean to make that pun.  My cleverness lies solely in my unconscious.

Powell's doesn't lie - it is a "city of books" quite literally.  Right now I am sitting in the café, thinking about how I should just start my book already, and wondering if that is allowed, and feeling inspired, having a strange urge to play Settlers of Catan, and wanting to drink coffee even though I know I've already had a couple of cups today and I probably should............... just wait till I finish my Green Machine drink before moving on.  Of course.

I already spent money here, too, on books that I probably won't be able to fit into my backpack.  But then I can just mail them to myself at home, I suppose.  I bought The Bone Man's Daughter by Ted Dekker, since I am guaranteed not to be bored while reading anything by him; a planner called "The 2011 Calendar of Bunny Suicides" (I think of myself as an animal lover... and I am, I swear!!  I just have a morbid sense of humor); and, for the sake of book research since I have officially decided to do InFoWriMo (WHATEVER), Talent is Overrated by Geoff Colvin, and 300 Best Jobs Without a Four-Year Degree.  No guarantees how helpful either of those will be, but I think they will at least provide some authoritative quotes for my book.

I was just thinking about my title I chose for this entry.  The thing is, that is NOT exactly true; I have a lot of places that I really like in this world.  BUT Powell's, and Portland in general, are one of them.  Especially in the fall.  Everything is so deliciously gloomy here I am simply overcome with delight.  And a great want of coffee.

The great thing about this place is.... well, most everything.  But mostly it just makes me want to write and read, and those are very important thing.  And it revitalizes me in general.  There is just something about being revitalized that I find absolutely wonderful.

Every time I come here I think of taking a picture of the inside so the folks back home or just anybody who hasn't ever been here can understand my infatuation with this store.  But facts are, it is just so big that no one photograph can adequately capture its vastness.  And if I took a picture of every Vantage Point of Hugeness, then everyone would look at them in sequence and think "well, that makes it look like a normal bookstore."

BUT IT'S NOT I SWEAR.

So, I have simply concluded that the only option is to shamelessly promote it without hope for reward - because it will be a reward in itself when one day someone comes up to me and says, "You know that store in Portland, Powell's?  Well, I finally went there per your seven hundred recommendations, and you are right - it is AMAZING and I want to LIVE THERE."

You're welcome.

364 Days Ago, I Was Here.

I sit at the dining room table in the Hawthorne Hostel in Portland.  Dudes in the parlor are playing French songs on the little guitar and waiting to leave for what must be an epic Halloween party - in a different way than the epic Halloween party I am going to... but we all celebrate in our own ways.  I flew in a few hours ago, having spent many long hours in airplanes sitting next to nobody, next to a professional dancer from Philly who would rather dance than go to school, and a short and stout man, who was very nice, but took up considerable room which I felt I had more right to occupy as I had longer legs.

364 days ago, I was basically doing the same thing.  Granted, I sat next to different people, got in earlier, ate dinner somewhere else, and I was here with 16 other unschoolers whom I was going to spend the next month living with on the coast.  It is coincidentally strange that I should be here so close to that same time.  Or is it?

I'm going to see some of those people on this trip, actually.

Now all I am struggling with is the fact that sleep beckons most heavily.

I have decided to turn my novel into a nonfiction information book.  That is, I am writing a nonfiction information book this November instead of a novel.  BUT ISN'T THAT SAAAAD!??!?  It's quite tragic.  I wanted to write a novel.  I have been waiting for months.  I have planned out stuff.  I roped other people on this trip into writing novels with me so we could write together and I wouldn't feel so unsociable.  And now I'm throwing all of that away.  WHAT am I thinking?  Well... I am thinking that it would be more worthwhile.  And that I could do a novel later.

Except that is so sad.  Really sad.

Maybe I will think it over once more?  I mean, after all, I signed up on the website and everything.  But... oh, gosh.  I am such a wishy-washy person.

A guy working on re-doing some bathroom here sounds just like the camp director from where I worked over the summer.  It's strange.  But they are definitely not the same person.

I think I just need sleep.  It's late on the other side of the world.

Life, the Universe, and Everything

So at this very moment in time you may be thinking something like, "Well, she said she was going to start this new blog, and look what happened!  HA!  She can't even get past post one... well except for now.  But then look at post two!  First of all, the title of post two is the title of a book by Douglas Adams which she hasn't even gotten around to reading yet, AND so far all she has done is put words in our mouths.  WHAT a FAILURE."

Well, ye olde newe readers, I will first tell you to GET OVER IT.  Secondly, I will teach you a life lesson I have learned in my short two decades upon this earth: everyone has a reason for doing something that other people interpret as stupid, rash, untimely, unjustified, etc.  And chances are, you do not know that reason... and, if you did, you wouldn't be complaining about that person who did that thing.

Case in point: I have a job.  And I am really behind on doing that job because I just went to Arizona, Utah, and Nevada for 9 days.

Case in point, part two: my friend Wesley committed suicide the other day and I have been rendered Completely Wrought with Anguish.

So there.

Now, this is no time for "poor, poor Jessica"s and "I'm so sorry, dearie"s.  I am simply stating facts.  In a while I plan on doing a post about death, life, love, etc.  But this is not that post.

The thing is, among other things, I am stuck in the Pacific Time Zone.  And my brain is all confused, because it is trying to get back into my normal schedule here on the east time, which is go to bed at 10:30pm and wake up at 6am.  EXCEPT that I've been talking to my nocturnal best friend Joanna practically every night till midnight.  And THEN I try to wake up at 6, except that then I am awake long enough to make coffee and drink a few sips before I crawl back into bed and sleep till 10, at which point I force myself to get up and drink yucky microwaved coffee.

And this is all completely and utterly pointless since I will be leaving to visit lots of people on the west coast come Friday, at which point I will just have to get re-used to PST ALL OVER AGAIN.

So, basically, this is my way of saying: "I give up!  I surrender to my absurd schedule!  I will just try and make the best of it!"

I also need to stop playing guitar all day and do useful things like getting caught up on work since I'll be doing a lot of traveling where Work Will Be Impossible.  I don't know why I capitalized those but it seemed fitting for some reason.

"Why are you going west AGAIN?"  

I am going to Portland, because that is always a nice place to be.  Also, it's a good place to fly in to.  And they have the most awesome book store in the world.  And a church I've been wanting to try out.  And my friend Bekka is going to pick me up from there and take me down to Corvallis for an epic Halloween party.

And then Bekka and I are going down to Ashland to visit my favorite Stomping Grounds of Old for a few days, and visit the hostel people and Laura and the HLR peeps and Molly and copious amounts of money-taking places such as Senior Sam's and Noble Coffee.  ASHLAND HOW I'VE MISSED YOU.

Then I am train-ing down (unless I can find a good ride) to San Jose to visit my amazing friend Rachel whom I haven't seen in a while; and finally I am flying to Tennessee to visit my nocturnal friend who lives there, before finally coming back home.  with 10 or so days left to spare in November.  Have I mentioned that I will be doing NaNoWriMo through all of this??  PRAY FOR MY SANITY.

So!  That's life for now.  I've just finished sipping on my coffee and I am ready to do something a little more useful, like working, before I go ahead and vote since I'll be out of town on election day.  MEH VOTING IS ICKY.

~Jessica  

Dramamine is my Drug of Choice

Hello readers of my new blog!  My name is Jessica, and I will be serving as your sole entertaining/informative/hopefully inspiring being every time you come to this page.

Some of you may be well aware that I have two blogs already.  One is the home of my year-long photo blog project, 365 at 21; the other is my more professional ongoing online portfolio, Life Without College, in which I write about things relevant to living life....... without............ going to........... college.  You guessed it!

I am not abandoning my other two blogs in the slightest; in fact, one might argue that I "don't seem to have enough time already" to "work on your blogs you already have."  And this may be true.  Bear with me here.

The thing is, I feel there is something missing.  I miss the days of olde when I could blog about whatever I wanted.  Photo and anti-college blogs are confining, as much as I love them.

Thus, my non-confining blog.  The everything blog.

I'll let you know a few things about me before I officially begin, so that we are all on the same page.  I love to write, you see.  I love to write about everything.  I write a lot.  This blog may consist of me writing a lot, about whatever comes to mind.  I may write about cell phones, or when the ice cream truck came when I was three, or spend a great deal of time musing why I suddenly decided to boycott purple when I was 14 and only just remembered that I actually love the color.

Or I might post about my adventures in cookie baking, or how I handle long distance relationships with towns on the other side of the USA.

It is up to me.

Or you!  You can ask me to write about something as well, and I shall do my best to comply.

I also may showcase some artwork (or illustrate my writing) from time to time, as I am attempting to become an artistic person.

Today I flew back from Las Vegas, NV, and I am sitting here in Fuquay-Varina, NC, thinking about how I need chap stick and healthy things like sleep.  BUT I could be feeling much, much worse.  You see, ever since I turned 20 my body declared that it would NOT be functioning as a happy-go-lucky individual anymore, and I would have to learn to deal with my problems.  One of these problems (for there are many) is extreme motion sickness.  I used to be able to read in the car, in a plane, ANYWHERE.  Now I can't even ride in the car without getting sick.  Plane rides are gross.  Helicopters are unbearable.

Until my father suggested Dramamine.

Problem solved.

It's that simple!  I take half the recommended dosage and I feel nothing except happiness that I am enjoying eating my 27 snacks on this lovely bumpy cross-country airplane ride while reading a great book about genetic imprinting!

~Jessica