As the Writer Writes

There are four perceptions of writers.

1. They are masters of their art, continuously pumping out fantastic works of genius
2. They are looney recluses who should be avoided at all time, if you get a chance to before they go ahead and avoid you
3. They are awesomely quirky and eccentric; wearing their hair in messy buns, donning geeky glasses and fingerless gloves, and possibly smoking pipes
4. They are lazy bums who do nothing but sit at their computer all day moving their fingers as their butts get wider, never bothering to contribute something of worth to the world (the writers, not their butts)

The facts are, each of these stereotypes are quite real, in most senses. And, yes, all at once. Here is the key:

New friends believe stereotype #1:
New Friend: “What’cha doin’?”
Writer: “Just writing a book.”
New Friend: “What, really?? What kind of book?”
Writer: “A novel.”
New Friend: “That is SO COOL! Can I be in it?? Can I read it?? When are you going to PUBLISH IT????”
Writer:
New Friend: “I’ll bet it is amazing. This is so awesome.”
Writer: “Um.”

People who don’t know any writers believe stereotype #2:
Typically, these people are afraid of me and we do not carry on conversations. I also try as hard as I possibly can to affirm their stereotype. That is the extent of our interactions.

People who are very good friends of writers believe stereotype #3 (and will not stop, much to the ego enlargement of those writers):
Old, Dear Friend: “How is your novel coming?”
Writer: “Oh, it’s coming alright. I had a pretty good writing session last night.”
Old, Dear Friend: “Did you write by candlelight?”
Writer: “What? Oh, yes, definitely. Just one, solitary candle. I wrote with my quill pen till the candle had burned down to a mere pool of wax, and even then I kept writing a bit to finish my thoughts for the night, albeit my fingers were terrifyingly cramped and frigid.”
Old, Dear Friend: “Do you not have heating? Or can you not afford coal for the fire this time of the year?”
Writer: “Yes, I am afraid that coal is just too expensive for me; I am already living off of one meal a day of bread and cheese.”
Old, Dear Friend: “Oh, my dear! Here, have my red scarf, that will at least help warm you up a bit. And, there! You look like such an inspirational writer! I wish I was you.”
Writer: “Oh, thank you, my old, dear friend. I don’t know how I will ever repay you for a kind favor for a poor soul such as myself.”
Old, Dear Friend: “Think nothing of it! You live such a tragically romantic life...”

Last, but not least, the family and/or people whom you live with believe stereotype #4:
Writer sleeps late. Writer gets up and fixes coffee. Writer returns to bedroom. Writer emerges an hour later with an empty coffee mug. Writer makes an egg and cheese sandwich and returns to room. Writer emerges with empty plate... scratch that. Writer lets plates and cups pile up on desk and then on bookshelves when the desk is full. Perhaps this is Writer’s monthly Dish Day. Writer tries to sneak out all the dishes and wash them while People of the House are distracted. Succeeds 25% of the time; the other 75%, is ridiculed by People of the House until Writer retreats back to room. Writer emerges at about 4pm to fix some canned soup, which is eaten in room. Writer comes back out half an hour later and, taking laptop, goes down to local coffee joint to eat, drink, and sit in a dark corner and write. Writer returns; People of the House are busy watching television, so do not notice. People of the House offer Writer tea later. Writer accepts absentmindedly; Writer remembers the offer of tea at about 11pm, at which time Writer eats spaghetti at the dining room table while reading a book, and actually puts dishes in the dishwasher. Writer pours cold tea and then goes and drinks it while writing into the night. Repeat.

This is performed with various levels of questions and “constructive criticism” from the People of the House. Writer wonders why the argument, “what if I were a college student??” never works and only seems to anger the People of the House further.

But what does the Writer think of the Writer?

The Writer is intimidated by the Writer who is more accomplished.
The Writer gets higher self-esteem from the Writer who can’t write as well.

But as for the opinion of the Writer: she feels a little bit of all four stereotypes at the same time as well. The Writer feels like what she is writing is frivolously about everyone she has ever met and definitely worth publishing; like she is weird and reclusive; like she is quirky and writerly; like she is a bum. This is somewhat of her own accord, for sure, but 99% influenced by the people who believe in those stereotypes.

Other than that, she doesn’t really think much of herself, actually; more only on what she is doing. Is she producing the thing she intended to? Does it sound right? Is it entertaining? Will others like to read this? When they do like reading it, she wonders, will people like the next thing I write? Can I really write something as good as what I wrote before? What if it’s better? What if it is relatively the worst thing ever? Should I keep writing in this genre? Am I really telling the truth; do I really know what I am talking about?

Why do I like writing again???

And I leave you with that.

~Jessica

Just call me Rip Van Winkle

So, dear readers, perhaps you are wondering what happened to the writer of this blog. Did she get consumed by a man-eating tiger while on a safari in India? Did she find El Dorado and promptly get kidnapped and put in some El Doradian dungeon? Did she fall into a sidewalk chalk picture with Mary Poppins? Did she get attacked by Twilight fangirls for declaring that Edward and Jacob were both ugly?

No, none of these valiant things occurred; at least, not in real life. Instead, she was writing a novel. Again.

Now, here is the lady herself:

Greetings, folks! It is I, Jess. I am alive and well. Like my announcer said in the paragraphs above, I have simply been writing a novel. You see, November is National Novel Writing Month, which is a challenge to write a 50,000-word novel within the thirty days. I participated in it last year (you can refer yourself back to my Backstory), and I felt compelled, naturally, to participate this year as well. The result at the end of four weeks? 51,720 words, 106 pages, of pure gold! And by gold, I mean… well, not gold.

NaNoWriMo was an interesting experience for me this year, on a number of levels. You see, last year, I had planned excessively for the novel I wrote. As in, I had already tried writing it multiple times in the years prior (before I knew about NaNoWriMo); and then, once I signed up for the retreat in Oregon, I basically spent August, September, and October making sure my outlines and character profiles were perfect. This resulted in me writing a despicably boring book, to me, because I knew everything that was going to happen, and all I had to do was write it out. No room left for the spontaneity of flying by the ‘pants of my seat’, going with wherever would be exciting to write.

This year, I concluded that it was a horribly bad idea to do that to myself again. I spent a total of maybe four or five days spread out over several weeks to come up with what I wanted in the novel, and basically left it at that. The only extra planning I did came in little spurts of ideas that I would quickly jot down in my notebook so I could move on with life.

But as I wrote I still felt like I had planned too much. I think this is because I felt like I had to stick with something; and that something was the little I had planned. I ended up beginning the novel with no inciting incident other than, “It was a dark and stormy night, so I decided to go on an adventure.” Wow, Jess. Epic storytelling abilities for the win.

What made it harder to write the novel was the fact that during three of NaNoWriMo’s four weeks, I was travelling the country and visiting friends. This, ladies and gentlemen, was not in the original NaNoWriMo plan; I made the decision to go a week before I peaced out of North Carolina. And this would have been fine, but for an introvert like me, it is extremely difficult to concentrate and be creative when there is bustle all around, and people you like being with are doing funny and distracting things… and, frankly, you would actually like to visit with them since that is what you came to do in the first place.

After the rough start of the first week, I was basically able to concentrate to some degree or another; and then I finally got into the flow of writing in the third week. This can be compared to running or swimming a long distance: the first couple of miles or first 500 yards are ridiculous and awful; and then you get in the flow, and you can just keep running or swimming forever, and it feels great. And, after spending so many days behind on my word count (and even coming down with a killer virus over Thanksgiving weekend), I finished a day early with almost an extra 2,000 words tacked on to the end.

That is certainly not to say it is The Great American Novel. It is more like The Great and Terrible Solid, Visual Form of Jessica’s Brain for the Month of November 2010. It is all over the place. It basically has no point. It’s dramatic, hilarious, irrelevant, rambling, improbable, nonsensical, and certainly Not Like It Was Supposed to Go. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. What matters is I DID IT.

This is my second time doing NaNoWriMo; technically, my third, since I also tried to do my own NaNoWriMo challenge in June. I did not make it to 50,000 words either of those times; in November, I made it to 47,000, and in June I made it to 43,000. So, this is the first time I have ever made it to 50,000 words in the required time. Needless to say, I feel extremely accomplished. I danced around the house for the next few days… and now, looking back, I want to dance again.

So, folks, that is what I have been up to in my absence! I hope you were even more productive than I.

Happy Winter, everyone!

Captivated piggy banks

Bristol

A deliciously dramatic sky...

Nashville

After San Francisco, I headed to my friend Joanna’s house in Virginia… but I stayed a night in Nashville at the Music City Hostel after flying in that evening.  They had a piano!!  Penny worked and lived at the hostel, and Mattia was a jolly Italian fellow on his way, incidentally, to California.  We had a wonderful time!

Autumn and the West

Joe of San Francisco

The Epic Joe, pictured above, was our tour guide through San Francisco.  It was my first time, and I had a delightful day in the city.  We all - that is, Rachel, Caitlin, Joe, Jon, and I - dressed “like British people” and talked in British accents all day.  ’Twas fantastique!  

A Tip off the Natalie Goldberg Iceberg

It was a most tragic thing that I should second guess my life's purpose the day before I left.  I therefore left behind the physical manifestations of my actual life's purpose and took with me some other things that I sort of like, but aren't ever worth taking when traveling around one's country.

The day before yesterday I shipped those things back home; but I figured it was pointless to ask my family to ship to me, c/o my good friend Rachel, my books which I was originally going to take with me: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy books, On the Road by Jack Kerouac, and most importantly, Wild Mind by Natalie Goldberg.

These books were  meant to inspire my fiction and freewriting which I was planning on accomplishing during the month of November, 20 days of which I will be spending in the land known as "not in the comforts of my home where all of my writing resources always are no matter what."  But, in case you missed the part where I thought for a bit that I would do something a little less pleasant but a little more useful than NaNoWriMo... I don't have them with me, because it seemed silly.

And we all know the saddest part is that I am actually traveling with absolutely NO Natalie Goldberg along to inspire me.  I have to live off of my own whims.  I don't even know how I've made it this far, or how I have 8,884 words in my NaNoWriMo novel right now.  There must be some miracle at work here.  And I can't even find anything of hers online.  She needs a blog.  Just for me, a desperate woman stranded with nothing but a laptop and her own notebook full of mediocre writings.

For those of you who don't know, Natalie Goldberg is basically the coolest person alive.  She writes, and then she writes about writing.  She's a Zen Buddhist whose main focus is freewriting.  Freewriting, which Google Chrome says is not a real word, is when you just start writing and you write about whatever comes out.  Some friends thank me for slightly more illustratively renaming this process "word vomit."  I should probably patent that term, but since I am poor, I'll just hope that some kind people give me credit if they use the term themselves, and I'll leave everyone to go about their normal lives and not worry about me showing up at their back screen doors with a pick axe and a rather resentful looking snarl across my lips, distant eyes spelling out an urge to mutilate anyone who has ever done me wrong.  Don't worry.  Those same friends who praise my "word vomit" creation?  Yeah, those friends.  They will also inform you that I am much too nice to do anything even remotely close to even looking menacing and murderous.  So forget about it.... sigh...

In my desperation, I was able to find some of her quotes online... one of which just put me to shame: “Life is not orderly. No matter how we try to make life so, right in the middle of it we die, lose a leg, fall in love, drop a jar of applesauce.”  Okay, fine, Natalie Goldberg.  I get it.  Life can't be perfect and I should keep writing anyway, whether you are here to help me or not!

But NOW I am all inspired by all these Natalie Goldberg quotes about writing.

“When you are present, the world is truly alive.”

“Sometimes when you think you are done, it is just the edge of beginning. Probably that's why we decide we're done. It's getting too scary. We are touching down onto something real. It is beyond the point when you think you are done that often something strong comes out.”

“Talk when you talk, walk when you walk, and die when you die.”

“First thoughts have tremendous energy. The internal censor usually squelches them, so we live in the realm of second and third thoughts, thoughts on thought, twice and three times removed from the direct connection of the first fresh flash.”

“There is no security, no assurance that because we wrote something good two months ago, we will do it again. Actually, every time we begin, we wonder how we ever did it before.”

Quite so, Natalie Goldberg... quite so.  Please, keep being amazing - and I hope to meet you one day very soon!

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  

Yes, this is now my watch

Wesley

Today I found out that my friend Wesley took his life.  

I cared for you so much, Wesley - I was so concerned, and now my concerns have turned into a reality.  It’s a bad dream, except it’s not.  But I know God is cradling you in his arms now… because God is the only being in the entire universe who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.

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  

At last, we hike!

Today I finally went on my hike!  This is a picture I took about 3/4 of a mile into the Canyon.

I also talked to the HawkWatch International people and got a lot of good information, though there happened to be a slow point in the day when I showed up, so I didn’t get to see any hawks actually tracked.  I *did* wish I had brought a pair of binoculars, though; the three people there on Raptor Duty had some mighty spiffy portable telescoping equipment that made them look very awesome and official.

Not to mention, I rode in my very first helicopter!  It had never occurred to me until we actually got to the airport that I had never been in a helicopter before.  It occurred to me once I was in the air that I never wanted to be in a helicopter again.  Nonetheless, it was beautiful to fly over the Canyon, over to the North Rim, which consists of another ecosystem entirely from any other part of the canyon.  It was an experience.  But have I mentioned, “NEVER AGAIN!!”?

Grand Canyon Day Two

On our second day of the Grand Canyon, I saw an elk in real life for the first time!  This was very exciting for me, having read a lot about elk and caribou in their context as wolf prey (not that there were any wolves to bee seen at the Grand Canyon… sigh…).

Anyway, this one was walking around the old train tracks at about 3 pm, minding his own business, I guess.  I wish I could have gotten a better picture, but I didn’t want to get closer as October is really not the time of year to go around approaching elk bulls.  

We had taken Grandma on a bus ride along the eastern rim, and had just finished eating lunch when I headed out to catch a bus to the more western rim and saw this fellow.  I had intended to talk to some HawkWatch International people who were tracking hawk migration, but by the time the bus FINALLY got up to Yaki Point, it was very windy and rainy, and they had packed up and were getting out of there.  Fortunately I found out that they would be there every day, and not just every other day as implied by the brochure.  I also didn’t go hiking as I originally planned, as I did not like the idea of being blown off a cliff and into the canyon, as much as I was dying to get inside…

First view of the Grand Canyon...

Bryce Canyon

Today we moved on from Zion National Park to Bryce Canyon, about 90 minutes away.  We gazed a lot and hiked some; finally, I sat down here to write while my family went to go climb to some crazy high peak.

The Case of the Missing Hot Sauce

I have done many, many things today.  Most notably, I have found myself in a beautiful hotel two miles from Zion National Park in Utah.  But, before I got here, my family and I were unstoppably drawn to a tourist trap, about 15 miles up the road from our hotel.  

The tourist trap, which has a name I cannot currently remember, served ice cream, had many relics of tourism, and a petting zoo with some carrot-obsessed alpacas, a donkey, a few horses, some deer, and a rabbit.

One of the features of the store inside was its extensive collection of hot sauces.  I approached it skeptically, and soon found my suspicions confirmed: in the midst of so much hot sauce, there was not one bottle of Frank’s.

Fail, Utah.  

At least you make up for it by being pretty.

bookmarks

On Sunday, Robert and I went to my favorite bookstore ever (aside from Powell’s, of course, but that’s on the other side of the country), The Reader's Corner, and I discovered, for the very first time, this little collection of bookmarks from used bookstores around the country!  It was very awesome, especially since I have been meaning to start such a collection for myself.  The problem is, I end up actually using the bookmarks, and then they get worn and tattered and finally bio-degrade and don’t exist anymore except in my heart.  

Which means only one thing: get TWO bookmarks whenever I make purchases at used bookstores.  How do I do this?  Why, make two separate purchases of course!  And wear a mustache while making one of the purchases so the cashier, if it is the same person, doesn’t recognize me and think to his or herself, “Why, that person already bought something.  I don’t need to give her another bookmark.”  Which is really not very nice, considering… I mean, if I buy two books, naturally I would be needing two bookmarks, wouldn’t I?

That cashier is very silly.

What surprised me is that the Reader’s Corner did not have a bookmark from Powell’s!  Powell’s Books, for anybody who doesn’t know, is located in Portland, Oregon, and is the biggest bookstore in the world.  

It is now my mission to go to Powell’s the next time I am in Oregon and get a bookmark for the Reader’s Corner there.  And a couple more for me.  =D

Dog-sitting...

...for a perfectly beautiful husky who lets me take pictures of her.

mysterious bush flower

After laying around in the sunshine at Covenant waiting for the board meeting to be over so we could all go get food… nobody really went out for food after all.  Still hungry, I was determined to get some noms regardless (and some coffee for Barb).  On the way out to the car, I saw this pretty flower.

The Letter Writing Desk

My official letter-writing area!  I have been wanting to do this for some time now.

Of course, it was much cleaner when I took this picture than it is now, though it is still fairly tidy, with a few additions.  On the far left you will see a small magazine collection which I steal appealing scraps from and then wastefully throw away… the little basket in front of it is full of said scraps from magazines past.  Or is it “passed”?  Whatever.  Anyway, you will also see a little thingy of gluesticks, which are to adhere said scraps to objects which I send through the mail.  

On the direct right of the magazines is another container of more scraps, specifically non-magazine scraps.  And stickers.  Moving from the right of that, there is a pile of envelopes, a pile of cards, and a pile of stationary; then there are artistic utensils (the collection has grown to include many more mediums since I took this picture), and writing implements.  In the center is a letter I am writing to my friend Lizzie, as well as her letter to me I was responding to, and in the left corner of that, are two unanswered letters from Joanna and Ellie.  

It’s really the simple things in life that I love, you can tell…

Libraries with chandeliers!

At the Maritime Museum in Beaufort, they had an entire nautical library, complete with a loft and chandelier.  I’ve decided it is one of the many reasons, aside from the pirate store and the ocean, why I want to live in Beaufort for a while.  Bed & Breakfast work-trade, perhaps?  

Beach Books

The beach!  The beach!

Every year I pick a book to read while at the beach.  I can only remember a few… in ‘07 I read the last Harry Potter book; in ‘08 I (regrettably) read Twilight; in ‘09 I read The Kite Runner and some of The Thirteenth Tale; and this year, I am reading as much as I can of my Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, as seen in the foreground.  In the background is my little brother Robert and the sand castle that he made.   

Like a boss

This is my brother Marck, being generally epic as usual.

When I was in Boston, I happened to reach inside a lamp shade in the hotel for no actual reason, and pulled out this pair of what I like to call “Lady Gaga Sunglasses.”  I brought them home and gave them to Marck, and then he had an idea for a profile picture he wanted me to help him with. 

Hence, this picture.



We should sell it on eBay

Today was the second day of the workweek at Camp Unirondack.  (Of course, I left on the third day, so I feel a little silly numbering the days as “one” and “two”, as I didn’t really work all that much, compared to the valiant Unirondack staff who stayed and did days “three, four, five, and six.”  Anyway, just thought I’d put that out there for the record.)

I volunteered Fergie, Ellie, and myself to make dinner that night.  I had originally been planning on doing some sort of southern meal, being from the south and all; but as I was thinking of what we could make, I realized that I didn’t really know what southern food was.  I suppose I could liken the epiphany to realizing that one *does*, in fact, have an accent.  Anyhooness, I settled on a few things normally served at potluck family gatherings.  On top of that, a few sides were decided on at the last minute.  In the end, we had a regular old REAL southern meal - a thrown together bunch of food that shouldn’t all go together, but somehow does anyway.

For desert, Ellie made two blueberry cobblers.  Lo and behold, she pulled the second one out of the oven and we were amazed to see that the middle had formed into a blob that resembled none other than our country ‘tis of thee sweet land of liberty… the USA.  It was the event of the event, and I am pretty sure dessert was that much tastier.  

No Longer a Teenager

Today was my 20th birthday.

I am working at a summer camp in the Adirondacks.  Today we led an excursion to Whittaker Park.  Three of us all had the same idea - bring our ukes!  Mine is on the left, Lahna’s is in the middle, and Yaz’s is on the right.  It was a fine day at the park; a little on the overcast side, but still quite enjoyable.  We also went out to Stillwater for dinner; the sunset pulled at my heart and the night air cleansed my spirit.

No more being a teenager anymore!  Time to get straight.  Now, to go play some more ukulele…
~Jessica



Stranded in the Adirondack Wilderness: Thoughts on Learning

Hello all! In case you were wondering, I do happen to still be alive and well. If you weren’t wondering, too bad, because now you know anyway.

I will hopefully start posting more entries again soon, but at the moment I am short on time. In my previous entry I mentioned I was getting ready to leave Oregon soon for a job as a dishwasher at a summer camp in upstate NY. I have been here for a month now, and boy, what a lifestyle change! Camp Unirondack is situated on Beaver Lake in the Adirondack mountains. We have cabins for campers and counselors, and staff; a big lodge, a kitchen and mess hall, an outdoor pavilion, a shower house, an art shop down on the water’s edge with a boathouse underneath, a waterfront, a campfire circle… it is impossible to be bored here. I do dishes for 110 people 3 times a day and keep the kitchen as squeaky clean as possible; then I devote some more time to continuing to do customer service for my dad; and I am still trucking away at my novel that I started in Ashland.

“STILL working on that novel, Jessica?? I thought you were supposed to finish it way back when.”

Too bad. It’s become a lot more complicated than I originally planned. Novels do that to you sometimes.

Occasionally I feel a bit stagnant here because my job here does not directly coincide with some sort of skill-gaining experience. I am now an expert with steel wool, can run the dish sanitizer by ear, and stack plates like a mad woman. However, at the end of the day I have not learned how to handle a raptor or bandage a seal fin or something that feels more relevant to what I ultimately want to do with my life. It often feels like I am just doing this for the money. Sure, I am surrounded by beauty, inspiration, and great new friends. But why am I here?

It’s interesting how humbling this realization is. “I’m a worldschooler;” I would proudly proclaim not that long ago; “I learn from everything.”

Have I been stumped?

I could blame my surroundings for not being things I could learn from, but is that really fair? I think one can choose to learn from something or not learn from it. Perhaps I have been unintentionally choosing to ignore all the information and experience that is right in front of my face; maybe I am even going so far as to say, “that’s not a learning opportunity, that’s just life stuff.”

Perhaps a good exercise for me would be to stand back, look at my month here so far, and ask myself: what have I learned? What am I currently learning? What am I going to learn for my remaining month?

What have I learned here at Unirondack? I’ve learned all about industrial kitchen sanitation. I’ve learned how to operate a musical theatre workshop. I’ve learned that I can figure out and memorize an entire song from Sweeney Todd on piano in three days. I’ve learned that if I get insufficient amounts of sleep for 3 weeks in a row my body’s immune system all but disappears completely. I’ve learned about loons because they’re all over the place here and very intriguing. I’ve learned that maybe I am a more extraverted person than I thought (which is why I have an issue with getting sufficient amounts of sleep). I’ve learned how to work with the people I live with, and live with the people I work with. I’ve learned about human nature, and how we are all so afraid to be ourselves, or to show that we have souls. I’ve learned how easy it is to fall into temptations of judgement and gossip. I’ve learned more about communication and its importance than I think I ever would have picked up anywhere else. I’ve learned it takes a long walk in the rain, or a day sitting and writing in the woods, or a kayak expedition to really ground me. I’ve learned the importance of ever being grounded and never forgetting myself.

What am I learning? Well, I am still learning a lot of the things I listed as things I’ve learned. I am not sure it’s quite right to say I have fully learned anything, so perhaps the last question should just be this question, but never mind. I am still learning how to love completely, how to not assume anything about anybody; how someone at first sight may seem like someone you never want to get to know; but later, they turn out to be your best friend. I’m learning who my true friends are here; what people build me up and what people tear me down. I am learning how to be a builder-upper and not a tearer-downer. I am learning from example of all my fellow staff members the virtue of perseverance, and I am learning self-control so I can get work done; so I can write; so I can have time alone to recharge; so I can sleep.

What do I want to learn? I want to learn how a summer camp runs and how to communicate with campers. I want to learn how to be a blessing to other people and not a curse. I don’t know if I am a curse, but it’s much better to be a blessing regardless of what I am when I am not being a blessing. I want to learn how to play guitar and write poetry better. I want to learn about different people’s lives by listening to them talk and observing their interactions here. I want to learn about other people’s skills and interests and see what doors have opened and will open for them. I want to learn contentment. I want to learn about more of the animals here; such as the 7,000 different species of moths I see flying around every day, and which half of the staff is unjustifiably frightened of. I want to learn how to dance better. I want to learn how to be the best person I can be so I can go home and show my family how I’ve changed for good.

There really is so much to learn here. It may not be directly “educational”, but maybe the biggest thing I am learning now is that the school of life has a time and place for that. It’s comforting to know.

Hostels, novel writing, and blueberry pie!

As some of you have probably gathered, my life has taken a little bit of a different turn since my last “Memoirs of a College Rebel” entry. Some was planned, some was most certainly not; all has been fantastic!

It all started on May 3rd when I kissed my family goodbye at 5 am. I was flying off to the other side of the country for the second time in my life. “I’ll only be gone for three weeks this time, not even a whole month!” I assured them.

My plans were to fly into Seattle on Monday, stay in the Green Tortoise Hostel for two nights with my friend Jane and spend some time with her; then take the train down to Portland, Oregon on Wednesday, stay with my friend Kina and spend time with her and some of our other unschooled friends who live in or near Portland; and THEN take the train down to Klamath Falls on Friday, stay in a motel for the night, taking a bus the next morning to Medford, where Blake, Cameron, and Aria – my fellow Homeschool Leadership Retreats staff – would pick me up and bring me to The Ashland Hostel, out of which we would be running the inaugural Homeschool Leadership Retreat for the next two weeks, starting Sunday. Then, on Monday the 24th, I would fly back to North Carolina – home sweet home – to figure out what I was going to do for the next few months.

However, during the retreat, some things changed. Actually, a lot of things changed.

The first thing was that I really fell in love with Ashland and did not like the idea of only staying there for two weeks; I also was beginning to feel like it was time for me to be away from home and figure out life on my own for a while. Those two feelings combined made for an official decision: I would stay in Ashland, somehow or another.

I began investigating (and praying about) how to do this during the retreat. I started by asking the lady from whom Blake was renting a room at the time. Unfortunately, she would not be able to rent to me till after June 18th; she would be going out of town and doing a house-swap with people who would be taking up the space she would rent out to me. So, I looked for somewhere to stay in the meantime. Laura, a very amazing mother of one of the very amazing campers, lived about five minutes away from downtown Ashland. However, I could not stay with them because they would have no space – Laura’s parents would be coming to stay the month of June with them.

Right about this time, Aria, the cook at HLR, told me that if I was looking for something to do for the summer, two of the three dishwashers at the summer camp she cooks at had dropped out, and the camp was looking for replacements. The job would start on June 26th.

At first, I hesitated. I wanted to stay in Ashland forever! But I quickly got over myself – had I not been pining about a month prior that I wish I had applied to summer camps to work at, but I had been too wishy-washy? (In fact: yes.) I shot the directors of the camp an e-mail, and not too long afterwards I had an application, and then an interview. Then it was all settled: summer camp, here I come!!

But what to do until the end of June? There would still be a month between the end of HLR and the beginning of the summer camp where I would be… homeless? It seemed unreasonable to fly home for a month and then fly on up to New York.

That was about the time my brain finally made some connections. During HLR, I had befriended a girl at the hostel named Stacy, who was doing a semester at Southern Oregon University and living at the hostel – doing a housekeeping work-trade for her room and use of the hostel amenities. I thought, “Okay, God – I will ask about arranging such a deal for myself. But if it doesn’t work out, I will take the hint and go back home and be content with my two weeks in Ashland.”

One afternoon I wandered into the hostel and to my delight the owner, Marilyn, was sitting at the front desk. I asked her if we could talk at some point, and she suggested that Right Now was a good time. With that, we sat on the couch and I made the proposal to her. Immediately she looked up into the heavens gratefully and exclaimed to me, “Isn’t it amazing how the universe just plunks these blessings right into your lap??”

With that, we shook hands and it was a deal. The Ashland Hostel would become my residence for the month following the retreat – a dream come true. It has been a desire of mine for quite some time to live in a hostel, and now I am doing it! It has certainly been an adventure: almost like an apprenticeship in hospitality in general; running a hostel specifically. I also now know how to fold fitted sheets so that when shelved you cannot tell the difference between them and the flat sheets.

But I am in Ashland for a month! What in the world am I doing while I am here?

Originally during HLR, I had made it a point to, perhaps, find an internship which I could carry out over the summer if staying in Ashland did happen. After asking around many different places, I finally narrowed it down to a promising veterinarian’s office. They suggested I send in a cover letter, which I did – my very first, which was quite an experience; I am so glad I did it.

After I turned it in, I would check back in person or over the phone every couple of days, and after a while began to get frustrated that nobody seemed to be making a decision or wanting to talk to me directly about creating an internship. Finally, on the Tuesday or Wednesday after the retreat, I was lusting in a used bookstore when my phone rang; it was the office manager calling to tell me they were not prepared to take on an intern at that time. (For anybody who ever gets an internship query – if this is the case, please let the person applying for the internship know ASAP, not a week and a half later, with no prior communication. They have a life, too, you know.)

I shrugged it off, knowing myself well enough to acknowledge that I would find things to keep myself busy soon enough. I was not expecting an epiphany as soon as that evening, but it happened: I had been so inspired by the town of Ashland, and specifically by a certain hotel a few blocks away which was rather old, creepy, and awesome-looking. Just a few days into HLR I had begun to brainstorm ideas for my next NaNoWriMo novel to write in November; but the inspiration kept flowing, and I couldn’t keep up with it. I would journal excitedly about all my plans, and then wish I had my journal with me when I went running and got even more ideas.

Then that evening it hit me: I have a month in Ashland. Why don’t I just write a novel now??

So, that is one thing I am doing to keep myself busy, along with obsessive reading of Natalie Goldberg’s writing books and much more journaling than I probably ever did in my life. I also began hanging out with the unschooler family I could not stay with, and I have enjoyed befriending them. Laura, the mom, is an excellent cook, especially when it comes to pie. We have been making pie, journaling, brainstorming blog entries, throwing birthday parties for her sweet 7-year-old Noah, getting ice cream, going on bike rides, having picnics, exploring the SOU library… and so many other wonderful things.

On Thursday, I will fly out to another adventure – summer camp in upstate New York! Life is sure amazing. I wonder what the future holds…

Mentoring and Homeschool Leadership Retreats

From May 9th through May 23rd I worked on the inaugural trip of Homeschool Leadership Retreats, led by my friend Blake Boles. It went splendidly; even more than splendidly. We had 7 campers total – 4 girls and 3 boys ages 14-18. They spent the two weeks getting to know Ashland, Oregon; they created internships, audited college classes, conducted interviews, got certifications, and many other wonderful things, all on their own. We also took them to a ropes course, on PCT hikes, to plays at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, a tango lesson, etc. In the evenings, Blake taught workshops on many aspects of self-directed learning and creating opportunities for oneself in the world.

In the end, I was able to see the campers walk away with copious amounts of confidence, direction, and tools to go out and achieve their dreams. It was a great experience, both for campers and staff. I will certainly never forget it. Here’s a photo album of some of the highlights of the retreat: HLR Spring Retreat Photos.

During the retreat, a friend contacted me and asked if I could write up something on Homeschool Leadership Retreats and my thoughts on mentorship (especially in the context of the aforementioned HLR) for a speech she was planning to give at the LIFE is Good unschooling conference last weekend. I did, and I thought I would post what I wrote up here as well.

Oftentimes when I think of the word “mentorship,” I see some old yogi master walking through some Eden-esque garden with his little follower, philosophizing about the universe and speaking in proverbs. However, these past few months I have come to realize that the word, in this day and age, has a completely different meaning, that is simply all too wonderful.

Mentors lead and challenge; but they also listen and understand. A mentorship can consist of two people of any age difference. It can be intentional or accidental, or anything in between.

When I was first asked to be on staff for Homeschool Leadership Retreats, I was excited solely that I would get to “learn to work with ‘kids’ more, and people in general,” as that, besides “working on camps,” was one of my many vague, ill-defined goals. As the spring retreat approached, this intention got rather lost in the hubbub of getting ready to leave and the traveling I did beforehand, but that was good to sort of clear my mind and give me a fresh outlook once the retreat started.

It was the first night the campers got there that I more fully realized why I was there. These kids – really not much younger than I am – needed and wanted direction and confidence. And I was in the position to both show and give those things to them in the course of the retreat. Suddenly – click! – there was my purpose, there was my reason for being in Ashland, Oregon on May 9th. To give of myself in these areas in the same way others have given of themselves to guide me before (and who continue to do so).

Of course, I will throw a dictionary definition in here for good measure. Merriam-Webster Dictionary Online defines a mentor as “a trusted counselor or guide” (italics mine). I see mentorship as something which centers on trust; it can’t function without it. I can say “oh, I want to be this great leader-person who sets good examples all the time and gives a crap ton of good advice”; or, as someone being mentored, I can say, “I want to be shown the ways of the world through this wise persons’ eyes and have a strong leader with good advice.” Well, those are great and all, but they really mean nothing if a trusting relationship between the two people in the mentorship has not been established. However, trust isn’t something that really consciously happens, though; and forcing it is not really a good idea.

Trust is a two-way street. Not only does the person I am mentoring need to trust me, but I need to trust them as well. For me, trust is built from being personable; being real, being true, etc. A mentor can admit to making mistakes. I used to think that was a bad thing to do – after all, I am supposed to set a good example, right? Therefore, admitting I screwed up somehow or another is simply out of the question, correct? No; I’ve found it to be the opposite. I can trust the person with the good and the bad. When I first discovered this, I was telling a younger friend about a big no-no I had done – afraid I would lose her respect forever. But, to my surprise, a big grin grew on her face when I was done telling what had happened, and she said “Wow… I just want you to know, Jessica, that I look up to you so, so much!” And she helped me feel respect for myself again, despite feeling like I had really screwed my life over.

Mentorship starts with friendship. Basically, mentorship is more of something that grows rather than something that just starts. Not to say that doesn’t happen; and if it does, friendship then grows out of mentorship. It’s really more of a cycle. It can begin with a single conversation, or an activity done together. Those sorts of things are inextricably conducive to building that essential trust – because trust is built from sharing… again, on both ends, not just the mentor getting a bunch of information out of the student (or whatever the “mentoree” should be called) so he can give advice, and not just the mentor pouring out copious wise words and quoting adages. Like I said, it is essentially a friendship, and friendships are developed with exchange of stories, thoughts, advice, musings, and shared activity.

Mentorship is such a wonderful gift for both the mentor and the one being mentored. They trust each other; they help each other along; there is a mutual respect; encouragement is exchanged. It is special, it is important, it is a lovely and wonderful thing. And being on Blake’s leadership retreat as a volunteer mentor/participant/dishwasher has really taught me so much about it that I do not think I would be able to understand before now.

On the note of College Rebellion, I think mentorship is very important at this age – both to have a mentor, as well as being a mentor of some sort. It’s like teaching; they say when you teach something to someone else, you learn it better yourself. I’ve found it is the same with mentorship. Leading and guiding another person, whether you are doing so consciously and intentionally, or unconsciously and unintentionally, helps you guide yourself and understand yourself better, which, in turn, helps you be a better mentor.

CPR, marketing endeavors, and playing with snakes

Hi, welcome to my new blog. I will say nothing sentimental nor anything eloquent about "this is a blog about blah blah blah me me me blah blah blah journey of life." I'm just going to jump into things, feel free to follow along the best that you can. :)

Recently I became the marketing intern for a new company called Homeschool Leadership Retreats. The name is pretty self-explanatory: they design leadership retreats for homeschoolers and unschoolers ages 13-19 with a variety of different focuses, fostering independence and showing teens and young adults how to get out in their community and start building their futures and accomplishing their dreams. This, of course, fits in very well with my passion for autodidacticism and “Life Without College,” and I find the challenge of marketing exhilarating.

Recently I took a certification course for First Aid and CPR through the Red Cross, and that was very interesting. Though at this time I am choosing not to pursue their related fields professionally, health, emergency medical procedures, and the human body fascinate me nonetheless. I enjoy every opportunity in which I am able to learn more about these things. In the future I am interested in pursuing it further and getting my Wilderness First Responder certification.

Probably the most rewarding thing I am doing right now is volunteering with Piedmont Wildlife Center. I do a variety of things – basically, I am their slave. But surely they’ve never had such a willing one! Among other things, I feed the animals, clean cages, make signs, move things around, conduct research, make contact lists, alphabetize things, help with camps, and go to events with the program animals to promote the center and educate the public on our wildlife. In my spare time I cuddle with the snakes. I am having the time of my life.

But you may be wondering: what is all this for? Do I have a point? Am I trying to accomplish something? Don’t I need a career eventually? Is this all I am doing?

My “dream” consists of three main desires: to be in some way, shape, or form, an animal behaviorist, a naturalist, and/or an ethologist. My only preference is that I actually get paid to do these things; and I am determined to get the experience necessary for these types of jobs in other places besides just a classroom. I am taking my first steps now, and have many more steps planned in the near future. A bonus is that, all the while, I am enjoying myself right where I am. And, subsequently, right where I am is only affirming where I want to go in the future, which is a reward in and of itself.