Crashed on the floor when I moved in
This little bunk alone with some strange new friends
Stay up too late, and I'm too thin
We promise each other it's til the end
Now we're spinning empty bottles
It's the five of us
With pretty eyed boys girls die to trust
I can't resist the day
No, I can't resist the day
Jenny screams out and it's no pose
'Cause when she dances she goes and goes
Beer through the nose on an inside joke
I'm so excited, I haven't spoken
And she's so pretty, and she's so sure
Maybe I'm more clever than a girl like her
The summer's all in bloom
The summer is ending soon
It's alright and it's nice not to be so alone
But I hold on to your secrets in white houses
Maybe I'm a little bit over my head
I come undone at the things he said
And he's so funny in his bright red shirt
We were all in love and we all got hurt
I sneak into his car's black leather seat
The smell of gasoline in the summer heat
Boy, we're going way too fast
It's all too sweet to last
It's alright
And I put myself in his hands
But I hold on to your secrets in white houses
Love, or something ignites in my veins
And I pray it never fades in white houses
My first time, hard to explain
Rush of blood, oh, and a little bit of pain
On a cloudy day, it's more common than you think
He's my first mistake
Maybe you were all faster than me
We gave each other up so easily
These silly little wounds will never mend
I feel so far from where I've been
So I go, and I will not be back here again
I'm gone as the day is fading on white houses
I lie, put my injuries all in the dust
In my heart is the five of us
In white houses
And you, maybe you'll remember me
What I gave is yours to keep
In white houses
In white houses
In white houses
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
A Letter to Myself
Dear Jacob/Jake/Jakey,
...I know that you are sad about leaving Stout, especially when you look at recent pictures of your friends, or randomly Facebook-stalk and find that there are attractive freshmen that are being befriended by your former stalker, and I know that you wonder if said attractive freshman got the same creepy e-mail from the stalker that YOU got in September of 2005. Know that you are better than that. Know that it doesn’t matter if attractive freshman and stalker are doing it. It does not affect you. Remember that you accepted the stalker’s friend request too, and only cut him from your list when he drunk-IM’d you, said that you did a good job in the play and begged for you to come over. RESIST THE URGE TO SEND ATTRACTIVE FRESHMAN A MESSAGE VIA FACEBOOK, because attractive freshman will either relish the attention or find out on their own. Jesus, Jakey, stop thinking about the freshman. You live in New York now.
Speaking of New York, you might be leaving it after July. It will not be the end of the world if you do. That said, enjoy it now. Don’t take it for granted. Go to Times Square every day. Go to the Union Square Walgreens on Wednesday and demand a job. Be the best damned beauty advisor of New York City.
Let’s go back to Stout for a minute, without a random tangent about the stupid random freshman and your stupid stalker. Yes, you miss your friends. Yes, you miss the socializing. Yes, you miss the illusion that in your own strange way you were a celebrity. But think of your friends, and think of why they are there. They actually want to have jobs in the fields they are studying. You, on the other hand, knew from day one that you were going to transfer after two years, and you went to Stout not to get a degree but because you could not fathom living at home, because in your closed mind, it was ridiculous that someone who took three AP tests and was in Knowledge Bowl would tell people at his grad party that he was going to community college.
And okay, you kinda fucked up the New York thing. On your first day there you should have sucked up your pride, walked into Target and applied, instead of having countless interviews at posh and upscale Manhattan jobs that you were not qualified for. You should have reached out more, actually cultivated friendships at your school.
That said, you don’t regret it. Moving back home isn’t as bad now, but can you imagine how it would been, right now? Do you remember how sad you were, when you knew you were leaving Stout but before the Brooklyn thing happened? And can you imagine living at home now, with Diva having moved to San Diego and Erin studying abroad in France? As lonely as you were in New York, you at least got to be with yourself. You would not have grown had you been stuck at home. If it would have been you, Final Fantasy VII, and your bottled-up Mommy Issues leading to damaged housewares.
So whatever happens in July -- whether you get a full-time job and manage to hack it in NYC, move back home, or miraculously end up in California with Diva -- you’ll be okay. Your dreams will still happen, but you must work for them. Stop drinking so much.
God bless,
Your Conscience
...I know that you are sad about leaving Stout, especially when you look at recent pictures of your friends, or randomly Facebook-stalk and find that there are attractive freshmen that are being befriended by your former stalker, and I know that you wonder if said attractive freshman got the same creepy e-mail from the stalker that YOU got in September of 2005. Know that you are better than that. Know that it doesn’t matter if attractive freshman and stalker are doing it. It does not affect you. Remember that you accepted the stalker’s friend request too, and only cut him from your list when he drunk-IM’d you, said that you did a good job in the play and begged for you to come over. RESIST THE URGE TO SEND ATTRACTIVE FRESHMAN A MESSAGE VIA FACEBOOK, because attractive freshman will either relish the attention or find out on their own. Jesus, Jakey, stop thinking about the freshman. You live in New York now.
Speaking of New York, you might be leaving it after July. It will not be the end of the world if you do. That said, enjoy it now. Don’t take it for granted. Go to Times Square every day. Go to the Union Square Walgreens on Wednesday and demand a job. Be the best damned beauty advisor of New York City.
Let’s go back to Stout for a minute, without a random tangent about the stupid random freshman and your stupid stalker. Yes, you miss your friends. Yes, you miss the socializing. Yes, you miss the illusion that in your own strange way you were a celebrity. But think of your friends, and think of why they are there. They actually want to have jobs in the fields they are studying. You, on the other hand, knew from day one that you were going to transfer after two years, and you went to Stout not to get a degree but because you could not fathom living at home, because in your closed mind, it was ridiculous that someone who took three AP tests and was in Knowledge Bowl would tell people at his grad party that he was going to community college.
And okay, you kinda fucked up the New York thing. On your first day there you should have sucked up your pride, walked into Target and applied, instead of having countless interviews at posh and upscale Manhattan jobs that you were not qualified for. You should have reached out more, actually cultivated friendships at your school.
That said, you don’t regret it. Moving back home isn’t as bad now, but can you imagine how it would been, right now? Do you remember how sad you were, when you knew you were leaving Stout but before the Brooklyn thing happened? And can you imagine living at home now, with Diva having moved to San Diego and Erin studying abroad in France? As lonely as you were in New York, you at least got to be with yourself. You would not have grown had you been stuck at home. If it would have been you, Final Fantasy VII, and your bottled-up Mommy Issues leading to damaged housewares.
So whatever happens in July -- whether you get a full-time job and manage to hack it in NYC, move back home, or miraculously end up in California with Diva -- you’ll be okay. Your dreams will still happen, but you must work for them. Stop drinking so much.
God bless,
Your Conscience
Monday, March 24, 2008
The New About Me Section
things that have been said to me about myself:
"I think you have a lot of intelligence and talent." Dr. Entin, whose class I dropped
"I really think you should be an acting major, I think you have a lot of talent." Pam, my acting teacher. I tried out for the program but didn't go to the callback.
"Jakey, you're so outgoing we can never tell when you're drunk." A boy at Stout.
"Well, wait, we can tell when you fall off the furniture." A girl from Stout
Then I fell off the couch.
Yes, I lived in New York, but I was not there, in the same way I was not there in my second year at Stout. Someday, wherever I end up, I hope I will actually be there.
"I think you have a lot of intelligence and talent." Dr. Entin, whose class I dropped
"I really think you should be an acting major, I think you have a lot of talent." Pam, my acting teacher. I tried out for the program but didn't go to the callback.
"Jakey, you're so outgoing we can never tell when you're drunk." A boy at Stout.
"Well, wait, we can tell when you fall off the furniture." A girl from Stout
Then I fell off the couch.
Yes, I lived in New York, but I was not there, in the same way I was not there in my second year at Stout. Someday, wherever I end up, I hope I will actually be there.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
My Dinner With...
I was tagged by StinkyLulu to participate in a "My Dinner With..." meme, originally brought upon by Lazy Eye Theatre.
The meme requires your dinner guest to be from the film industry, which ruled out my first choice. Rosie O'Donnell may have the career I want, but I'm petty and annoyed that she invited annoying people on her cruise last week (I'll forgive Danny Noreiga because he's young, but ANT? Really?), and while I really do think Channing Tatum is a good actor (no, REALLY!), I don't think I could be in the same room with him without turning into some kind of goo.
But a few years ago, I began having recurring dreams about a particular movie star, and I don't mean THOSE kind of dreams. In the first one we were at Friday's with my brother, and in the other one I was on a talk show being asked about his recent break-up because I was apparently the Sandra Bernhard to his Madonna or the Leah Remini to his Jennifer Lopez (read: somewhat famous but not AS famous as the best friend). It was the spring of 2005, when I was a cashier at Walgreens and ringing up tabloids all day with him on the cover, and in my third-trimester senior year class of Mass Media -- a sluff class if there ever was one -- my friend Meaghan and I decided to do our final project on ...
1. Pick a single person, past or present, in the film industry who you'd like to have dinner with, and tell us why you chose this person.
So yes, there were the dreams that make me think I have a psychic connection with the man when really it just makes me sound like a raving lunatic (to be fair, I've also dreamed Angelina Jolie was dispensing advice while we were in a pool). But insanely good looks aside, I find William Bradley Pitt to be fascinating and inspirational. He dropped out of college in his final semester to pursue acting. His breakthrough role in Thelma & Louise made him a star, but also gave him a pretty-boy image he spent fifteen years trying to shake off. He's brought forth a new wave of celebrity, trying to turn the negatives of the TMZ-ification of the world into something positive.
2. Set the table for your dinner. What would you eat? Would it be in a home or at a restaurant? And what would you wear? Feel free to elaborate on the details.
It would most definitely be in a restaurant, since boiling water is a miracle for me. While my dreams would recommend Friday's, I picture a sickeningly pretentious Manhattan restaurant in a dinner party setting. For some reason they split up couples at fancy dinner parties to encourage socializing, so Brad and I would be on one end of the table while Angelina would be at the other end of the table discussing European culture with my best friend Erin McCloskey. My outfit would be 10% the cost of Mr. Pitt's but I'm sure it would look just as nice, because I have finally discovered designers that actually make button-downs in a size Small.
3. List five thoughtful questions you would ask this person during dinner.
-"Was there a catalyst or final straw that made you leave Missouri to be an actor, instead of choosing the life you would have had with your journalism major? How does one arrive at that decision?"
- "In your early career, most of your publicity centered around your looks. When did you feel validated or accepted in Hollywood as a serious actor?"
- "What has been the most overwhelming aspect of fatherhood?"
- "You told GQ Magazine'I embrace the messiness of life. I find it so beautiful, actually.' When did you discover this sentiment? How has it helped you?"
- "Meet Joe Black? Really?"
4. When all is said and done, select six bloggers to pass this Meme along to. Link back to Lazy Eye Theatre, so that people know the mastermind behind this Meme.
I don't even know if six people read this! I'll have better luck on LiveJournal.
The meme requires your dinner guest to be from the film industry, which ruled out my first choice. Rosie O'Donnell may have the career I want, but I'm petty and annoyed that she invited annoying people on her cruise last week (I'll forgive Danny Noreiga because he's young, but ANT? Really?), and while I really do think Channing Tatum is a good actor (no, REALLY!), I don't think I could be in the same room with him without turning into some kind of goo.
But a few years ago, I began having recurring dreams about a particular movie star, and I don't mean THOSE kind of dreams. In the first one we were at Friday's with my brother, and in the other one I was on a talk show being asked about his recent break-up because I was apparently the Sandra Bernhard to his Madonna or the Leah Remini to his Jennifer Lopez (read: somewhat famous but not AS famous as the best friend). It was the spring of 2005, when I was a cashier at Walgreens and ringing up tabloids all day with him on the cover, and in my third-trimester senior year class of Mass Media -- a sluff class if there ever was one -- my friend Meaghan and I decided to do our final project on ...
1. Pick a single person, past or present, in the film industry who you'd like to have dinner with, and tell us why you chose this person.
So yes, there were the dreams that make me think I have a psychic connection with the man when really it just makes me sound like a raving lunatic (to be fair, I've also dreamed Angelina Jolie was dispensing advice while we were in a pool). But insanely good looks aside, I find William Bradley Pitt to be fascinating and inspirational. He dropped out of college in his final semester to pursue acting. His breakthrough role in Thelma & Louise made him a star, but also gave him a pretty-boy image he spent fifteen years trying to shake off. He's brought forth a new wave of celebrity, trying to turn the negatives of the TMZ-ification of the world into something positive.
2. Set the table for your dinner. What would you eat? Would it be in a home or at a restaurant? And what would you wear? Feel free to elaborate on the details.
It would most definitely be in a restaurant, since boiling water is a miracle for me. While my dreams would recommend Friday's, I picture a sickeningly pretentious Manhattan restaurant in a dinner party setting. For some reason they split up couples at fancy dinner parties to encourage socializing, so Brad and I would be on one end of the table while Angelina would be at the other end of the table discussing European culture with my best friend Erin McCloskey. My outfit would be 10% the cost of Mr. Pitt's but I'm sure it would look just as nice, because I have finally discovered designers that actually make button-downs in a size Small.
3. List five thoughtful questions you would ask this person during dinner.
-"Was there a catalyst or final straw that made you leave Missouri to be an actor, instead of choosing the life you would have had with your journalism major? How does one arrive at that decision?"
- "In your early career, most of your publicity centered around your looks. When did you feel validated or accepted in Hollywood as a serious actor?"
- "What has been the most overwhelming aspect of fatherhood?"
- "You told GQ Magazine'I embrace the messiness of life. I find it so beautiful, actually.' When did you discover this sentiment? How has it helped you?"
- "Meet Joe Black? Really?"
4. When all is said and done, select six bloggers to pass this Meme along to. Link back to Lazy Eye Theatre, so that people know the mastermind behind this Meme.
I don't even know if six people read this! I'll have better luck on LiveJournal.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Today in New York
Today I was going to have an interview at 30 Rock, write my paper, do laundry and go to English class. Instead I overslept way too late (typical), did not do laundry (typical, but found a way to pull off brown dress pants), wrote my paper, read 100 pages of No Country for Old Men, went to English class, and made an evening interview!
In English class, it turned out that the paper I bitched about for three hours and then wrote in about forty minutes is due on Thursday, and NOT today. Booooooo. Then we discussed No Country for Old Men and I get that Cormac McCarthy is a genius, but I wish the man would use quotation marks. After class ended I asked the professor a question on my paper, and then I had to listen to him argue with a kid in my class who I am going to call Douchenstein, because he is the kind of person who has to argue about EVERYTHING, and he's so smug about it and thinks he's really smart, but he's really just annoying as all hell. Then there's this clique of pretty girls who bitch about EVERYTHING.
Professor: "There's a quiz on Thursday."
Pretty Girls: "Oh my god!!! Really??? Can't you make it be on Tuesday??? I already have a midterm that day!!"
Professor: "It'll be, like, five questions."
Pretty Girls: "Whyyyy? That's so unfairrrrr."
I would judge them, except college and I are done after May, and that doesn't mean I'm graduating. People with glass academic dead ends can't throw stones, I guess.
Then I went to my job interview, which happened to take place at 30 Rock! I told myself it was at Studio 8H to be an intern on Saturday Night Live instead of really being in the shopping concourse. That's all fine and dandy, since I don't think I figured out how to get to the studio anyway. I took the elevator from the shopping rink to the concourse, not because I'm handicapped but because I could NOT find out how else to get there, then later found out you can get there ... from the subway. My interview went okay, but I'm not fully confident about it and will likely look up jobs again tomorrow. Is it a perfect, glamorous job? No. Is it one that may require me to leave my apartment at 5:45 in the morning some days? Yes. Am I also really fucking desperate? Yes and yes.
On the subway back, two blonde Abercrombie models were on the train with bags from Whole Foods, and I don't know how I prevented myself from blushing, but miraculously I did. Seriously. Abercrombie. Models. And this is New York, so there's always a chance that when boys look like Abercrombie models, they ARE Abercrombie models. Thank goodness they got off at the stop before my scheduled transfer and that I had to pee, because the sad truth is that had they been on the train all the way to Coney Island, I would have stayed on. I think I need new hobbies.
Then I went home and watched two episodes of Veronica Mars, A.K.A. the best show ever. In the history of television. And no, I did not watch it while I was on the air, because I don't believe in catching onto things while they're happening. I suppose I'm all about being retro, like in my senior year of high school when my favorite song was one that came out 13 years before I was born (You prob'ly think this song is about you).
Tomorrow: More laundry, possible job hunting, and continuing the countdown to my Stout reunion!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
July 15th, 2008
My lease expires
I will be 22
I will have no idea where I am living
In a way it is just like last year
When I know I am leaving
But not where to
And anything I see is bittersweet
Because I will have realized
I took it for granted
Can I make it on my own
In New York City
As a grown-up
With my own full-time job
And my own walk-in closet as an apartment
My parents do not get it
"Move back home" says my mother
Who does not realize
That I don't have a driver's license
Because she won
"Go back to Stout" says my father
Who does not realize
That I was there only for the partying
If I got a degree there
I would not use it
"School is so important" says Grandma Shirley
Who does not realize
That I can afford school
But not the cost of living
Without a job
"You are too old" says the voice in my head
"Why did you ever think
You could be an actor
That is such a pipe dream
Get over it
Let it go"
"Everybody I know wants to be famous" says Famousphere Boy
"Even you"
Ouch
Why do I take his calls
Could it be because I know literally five people in my current city
Probably
46 days
I return to Stout for a visit
I haven't bought the ticket yet
'Cause I thought I'd have a job
"How is New York?" they will all ask
I will have to put my smile on again
"It is great
I am loving it
I have a lot of friends
I am living the dream"
Blah blah blah
I look at their pictures
They are all so happy
As they should be
But I can't help but be sad
When I see that they are thriving
Without me
They made new friends
Boys that are cuter and taller and straight
One of them has the same name as me
At least he goes by Jacob/Jake
Life does not come with an Undo button
Or a game over retry
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