jamie ann

This is what I go through to try to get at least one semi good picture of me and my dog together.

(Don’t mind the just air dried, messy hair and @wienermobile pajama shirt)

You’re currently catching part of the Choose Your Own Blogventure: Spooktacular storyline. Start at the beginning here so it all makes sense.

This part of the story continues on from Definitely RA.

___

The book. The trunk.

It was just like the movie!

Here I am, not even able to watch a silly scary movie and now it’s being reenacted right in my own neighborhood. No, that’s crazy, thought Kate, it’s just a old trunk.

But why is the book there?

Julie’s words burst in on her thoughts. “KATE! Are you even listening to me?! Let’s just run to the door.”

“I was just thinking,” said Kate hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. “Okay, we both know that this is the best and spookiest house, so let’s just save it for last. It will be the best stop with the best candy to round out our awesome night”.

Thankfully, Julie agreed and didn’t notice that I was spooked. Hopefully, it would be time for curfew before we got a chance to hit the haunted library.

Trying to push the dumb old props from her mind, she shouted, “first one to the end of the block, gets all the Snickers!”  as she darted off.

And so they continued on, hitting up all the houses for candy, getting compliments on their costumes and seeing friends. The trunk and Haunted Happenings in New England were the last thing on Kate’s mind.

Until they reached the old Martinez house.

The house was on the market for the longest time until it was finally snatched up by an old woman. No one knew her name. She didn’t talk to anyone and never answered the door. (Not even for Kate’s mom who thought herself the neighborhood welcoming committee and felt quite snubbed and made sure everyone knew. But that is a whole other story.) But every evening, you could see her through the window rocking back in forth in her rocking chair.

But today something was different. The porch light was on and the second Julie and Kate started to walk past, the door opened.

“You there. Come here.”, said a scratchy voice, “I have something.”

The girls looked at each other unsure if they should walk up the steps.

“Let’s just do it. Then I can finally tell my mom she talked to someone, you know how she can be”, whispered Kate.

Julie giggled at the thought of Kate’s mother ranting and raving about how unfriendly the new neighbor was and agreed.

The walked up the creaky steps and there she was. A tiny wisp of a woman, stark white hair in a pale yellow dressing robe.

Julie pipped up, “Hi! I’m Julie and this is Ka—”

She was cut off by the woman dropping something in each of their pillowcases and slammed the door on them.

“RUDE!” shouted Julie as she was digging around in her now almost full pillowcase. She pulled out an apple. “Really?! An apple? Who does that?!”

Kate rooted around in her bag when she felt something hard and metal. It kind of felt like a — no, it couldn’t be.

The old woman had dropped a key in her bag.

An ancient iron key.

If you think Kate and Julie should try to open the trunk in the haunted library, click here.
If you think Kate and Julie should pass the key on to someone else, click here.

The past few weeks have been great. I just feel like I’m in a really good place. Taking some time away from the not so awesome things in my life and making time for myself has been incredibly helpful. My head is clear. I haven’t been constantly worrying about everything, picking everything apart and wondering what will happen next.

I’m ready for change. I’m ready to move forward. I’m not going to wait around for anything anymore.

Even when it comes to little, stupid things. Like being the first one to send that IM or text. Or clothing. I couldn’t tell you the last time I’ve worn a dress. The past few weeks? I’ve bought three. Or doing my hair before I go to the library because maybe, just maybe, the hot tattooed guy will be working. It’s these little things that no one probably thinks anything of but that make me smile just thinking about.

I’m grateful. I have good people in my life. Friends who will listen. Just be silly with me. Those who will help me plot my next moves and take the next steps to accomplish what I want. I’m getting to know people better. Meeting new friends. The ones who will drink and video chat with me since we can’t be in the same place doing it. People who just get it. That care what I’m up to. Who want to be around. And show it.

My life is far from sunshine and roses. I’m not perfect and I probably never will be.

But for now, I’m just happy. And I’m ready.

For anything.

There isn’t anything in this world that I hate more than driving.

Except maybe that red velvet cupcakes aren’t their own food group, the fact that I’ll never be as adorable as Zooey Deschanel, and that there isn’t a job called Professional Book Reader / Lifetime Movie Watcher / Etsy Addict. Because let’s face it, I’d kill it at that job.

But back to driving.

Chicago drivers are ridiculous. And I always manage to get stuck behind the 90 year old people who shouldn’t be on the road driving 20 miles an hour. Or the dude that is just cruising, taking his damn time bumping music so loud that you can’t even enjoy it. Or the person who is from somewhere like Arkansas or Iowa (I have no idea why I picked those two states, I’m sorry if you are from Arkansas or Iowa) and is so enamored by the BIG TALL BUILDINGS that they are veering slightly off the road. Throw those in with Chicago cab drivers who have death wishes and weave in and out of traffic. And the semi-truck drivers I’m convinced want to kill me.

Then if there is any form of precipitation everyone LOSES THEIR SHIT and completely forgets how to drive (if they even knew how  in the first place). And don’t forget about construction. Traffic cones and gigantor pieces of machinery to dodge now too! It’s kind of like Frogger (minus the logs, turtles and lilypads, of course. But the traffic part, YES).

Don’t get me wrong, there are parts of driving I do like. Driving up Lakeshore Drive listening to good car music (everyone has good car music. Mine is currently: Jets to Brazil) and seeing my skyline in the distance is probably one of the best things ever. And at those moments, I realize how much I love my city.

But when I have to fight traffic and idiot drivers, I lose my patience. And not even Britney can save me at that point. It’s not a pretty sight. Trust.

And don’t get EVEN me started on the undeserved parking tickets.

Clearly, someone needs to invent the Professional Book Reader / Lifetime Movie Watcher / Etsy Addict job so I can get the hell out of the south side, closer to the el and not need a car anymore.

I haven’t been sleeping too well lately.

I kind of wish I could be doing this this week instead of running all over the place.

• Barney Stinson. I think he says “awesome” as much as I do and I’m kind of in love with him (and How I Met Your Mother in general).
• Slouchy, flat boots. The past two weekends I’ve acquired a pair of black and a pair of grey boots.
• Greek. I would do naughty things to Cappie.
• Second day hair. It’s always better than first day hair.
• Ridiculous convos with Doni that literally have me busting out laughing over gchat. Totes.
• Good Reads. You on it? Add me as a friend!
• Reaffirming my love for Cursive, Thursday, Murder by Death, onelinedrawing and Alkaline Trio.
• Berets, scarves and cowls. Fall fashion is in full effect.
• Pretty wine. Duh.
• Crossing my fingers and toes this freelance work comes my way. I know I’d be awesome for this project.

What are you currently obsessing over?

All this time has given me a lot to think about. Things I want to do, be and see. Hopes and dreams. All that cheesy stuff. There is so much I want to do, I can only hope I get the chance to do it all.

I want to graduate. Be successful in my career. Pack a backpack and just travel the world. Win a ton of money in Vegas. Go to South America. See Machu Picchu. Learn how to cook amazing things. Write a book. Get married. See the Aztec and Mayan ruins. Be crafty. Cut my hair and donate it. Go to New York Fashion week. Go to Paris with someone I love and fall in love all over again. To teach. To learn. Meet Britney Spears. Yeah, shut up.

I want to learn yoga. A boy to write a song about me.  Go on a volunteer vacation in Guatemala or Peru. Own a 1967 Ford Mustang. Move to another city. Learn how to box. Get rich and donate a ridiculous amount of money to puppies. Make people laugh. Make people think. Go to wine country. Learn to play guitar. Lke more veggies. Hug a koala bear. Jets to Brazil to get together for a reunion show and be in the front row. To inspire and be inspired. Make the best red velvet cupcakes ever.

I want to finally learn how to put eyeliner on. An occasion to buy a formal gown. To be sent flowers.  Find the perfect little black dress. Be a princess. Go to Brazil. Stop biting my nails for good.  Be healthy. My dad to walk me down the aisle. To be able to give him money to retire and so he can work on restoring his Mustangs. Scuba dive. Etsy to hire me. Eat lots of pasta in Italy. Swim with dolphins. Make peace with my body.

I want to be happy no matter what I do or where I am or who I am with. I want no regrets.

Now who wants to accompany me in knocking some of this out?

Retail therapy is probably one of the best inventions ever.

No, really.

Sometimes you just need to buy shit. And then that shit makes you feel better.

This past weekend I went out to buy a new pair of boots and flats. But I happened to walk into TJ Maxx first because sometimes they just have good pieces and you get lucky. Well, I just had to do a quick run through of the handbags and then my eyes fell upon it.

THE BEST BAG IN THE ENTIRE WORLD.

(okay, maybe not world but the most perfect bag that I’ve never needed that day)

And I told twitter that I was in love but was having a hard time justifying it, you know with the whole been poor and jobless thing. So I proceeded to take many a lap around the store trying to talk myself into buying it or putting it down.

So I walked and walked around the store and then this happened:

This bag has been sitting here. Taunting me. Begging me to just take the damn tags off already. But I had to consult you all first. Here it is in all it’s purple leather, long strap AND handles WITH a zipper, roomy glory. It’s kind of everything I want in a bag that doesn’t start with “M” and end with “arc Jacobs.”

(It kind of reminds me of this Miu Miu bag I’ve been obsessed with for the past 2 years that I will probably never own until I get a sugar daddy.)

(Now accepting applications.)

So there you have it. The bag I probably should return.

Keep it or return it?

P.S. You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going to return this. I just felt better pretending I would at least consider it. Let’s just talk about how pretty it is.
P.P.S. Don’t judge me! It wasn’t that that much.
P.P.P.S. FINE, stop pressuring me. It was $150 but it was the best goddamn $150 I have spent recently. Don’t you see how pretty it is?!
P.P.P.P.S. PURPLE LEATHER. STRAPS. HANDLE. ZIPPER. PURPLE.

Finally using my neat wine glasses made from recycled wine bottles. And of course, a pretty labeled bottle of wine. Add season one of How I Met Your Mother and you have my Friday night.

I’m content.