Hello world!
Long time no see! Long time no chat! You probably think, based on my last post, that I slipped into an alcoholic hole, hidden from the rest of the world in self-destructive debauchery.

I didn’t, by the way.  I’ve just been preoccupied. I’ve got all my belongings in storage save for the essentials, which are rolled up in my blue backpack, and I’m kinda couchsurfing around until I can move into my new house.

Yes.  House.  With a yard.  I even signed a year-long lease.

With all the craziness going on around here, what with my brother moving out here, my job search and the like, the act of signing that lease hasn’t hit me as hard as I’d imagined it would.  I’m in hyper-active survival  mode right now, both for my own sake and for my little brother’s, so I’m not thinking deeply about much of anything.  I’m just moving.  Spending. Eating.

Ugh, the eating.  I’ve been cursed with a body that has adverse reactions to like every food out there, and a post-anorexic greed when it comes to eating that causes zoned-out binges and followed by zealous admonishments of all things caloric.  I also tend to give up coffee.  Women and stress…it’s the worst combo ever.

Anyway, I’m currently at a coffee shop in Tempe (drinking coffee…I’ll quit again some other time) and thinking about newness, commitment, and the idea of home.

I like there to be a clear break from the old from the new.  My guilty pleasure is New Years resolutions.  They’re so clean, so fresh, so hopeful.  I’ve got good intentions spilling out my ears on New Years day.

We’re halfway through 2012 and I’m thinking about my intentions when starting this thing.  I’m thinking its time for a new fresh start.

Which is wonderful because there is so much newness about the place; I’ve got a new job, I’m going to be living in a new house with new roommates, and to top it all off, dig this externality; my roommate and I are going raw for a month.  We are dubbing it Raw-gust, because we are just that witty.

So new home, new workplace, and renewed eating.  Fresh as can be.  My brothers have signed a year-long lease as well, in an apartment up north with two of my favorite guys.  Things are new.  We’re shaking the old off and learning the ropes of adult-siblinghood.

I’m grateful for them.  I’m grateful that my soul-killing old job allowed for me to pay off debt and set aside enough to get me and my brothers through this gnarly month of newness.  I’m grateful that I can couchsurf with church friends while my dog chases squirrels and things at another friend’s farm while we’re between homes.  I’m grateful that my new roommate is out of town (er, country) for a couple weeks and has lent me her car.  I’m grateful for my new job.  I’m grateful for Pinterest.

And I’m grateful that, for at least a year, I am legally bound to be in one place.  I’m excited to make a home, a sanctuary, a safe place for myself and my company.  I’m excited to wake up aching with wanderlust and know that I have to just go back to bed.  There is a peace in having less options, at least for a time.  I’m excited to have real friends and learn how to swing dance and join a rock gym.  I’m excited to frequent more coffee shops in Tempe.

And I’m excited, don’t you doubt it, to finish out my year here and go wild next summer, Associate’s Degree finally in hand. (What do you mean? A LOT of people go to community college for seven years.)  Maybe a US/Canada road trip with certain Aussies who’ve been talking about it.  Maybe South America.  Maybe Papua New Guinea.  Or maybe its going to be something I can’t even anticipate, something here.

A blog ought to be either informative or entertaining.  Right now I’m a little less than both, but I wanted to preserve some regularity on this ‘ere blog site.  I wanted to wave at you from across the internet and let you know I still care, and that I’m still here.

P.S. Apparently there’s a model named Jessica Moran, because one of the most frequent search engine phrase people find this little blog by is “Jessica Moran hot” or “Jessica Moran model”.  This, and the fact that “Disney incest” also brought someone here, makes me cackle like a hyena.  So. Much. Fun.

P.S.S  Whoever “borrowed” my camera at the Fourth of July party took an impressive array of crotch shots.  Here they are, because what else am I supposed to do with them?

[Show as slideshow]

Now, at this point in your life you’re probably 21, kinda floored by adulthood (leases, relationships, jobs, oh my!) and vacillating a bit between dumbfounded panic and finger-tingling excitement.  You probably are stoked to make healthy foods, to ride your bike, to learn about God and love and family.  And you’re also probably learning about alcohol.

Now, I know you are a reasonable person, an intelligent and motivated individual.  You never drink to get drunk.  You don’t actually even “go out”.  You certainly don’t need a drink (or three) to be fun.  And you would never, ever, drink your stress/anxiety/insecurity away.

For the sake of a blog post more humorous than family crisis, however, let’s pretend you’re curious about how to not be hungover on a Tuesday.  (Abstinence? Cute.  You must be new here.)

First off, once you realize you’re more exuberant on the Blue Martini Dance floor than usual, or that you’ve moved the dance party to your own private rain dance outside, here’s what you need to do; pop a vitamin B12, and fill your pretty pink nalgene to the brim.  Now down it.  Don’t throw it up, but do drink it all.

If you don’t have a nalgene, you’re silly.

Now, you probably forgot to charge your phone because, well, forgetting normal life things comes with the territory of being such a big fan of alcohol, which means you had no alarm clock the morning after your debauchery.  Once you’ve awakened (and realized its ten in the aye-em and you’ve blown off your morning plans with people you care deeply about) you need to refill that nifty nalgene.  Drink that mother.

Although its acidic and you give up drinking coffee all the frickin time, you’re probably craving it.  So walk to the nearest coffee shop, all bloated and groggy, and get yourself the largest iced java you can afford.

Once at home (because I still respect you as a person, Dear Reader, and have given you the credit of sleeping over at someone’s house rather than driving home intoxicated) ignore the judgmental gaze of your dog  and make yourself an alkalizing elixir with this stuff:  Your body needs some healing and this stuff will help.

However, it tastes like your lawnmower smells, so dose it with Arbonne’s energy fizzy drink mix.  Then its not only bearable, but delicious, and even more alkalizing!

Also, breaky ought to consist of something nutritious and dry.  Viola; hearth-thrive energy bars!

Keep downing that water, turn up Youtube’s Fun playlist (you’re probably a big fan of the song “Be Calm” lately.) and prepare for your day.

This day, in particular, involves bringing Chris to In’n’Out for an interview (ohpleaseohpleaseohplease), dropping off your resume at places (I was fired on Sunday, guys.  And I quote; “you’re a waitress, not a fucking comedian.”), exploring more housing options with the new roommates, and getting Michael’s car washed, as he’s been generous enough to let me use it while he goes off and gets engaged in Europe.

Anyway, here’s to twenty-one.  Cheers, friends.

Welp, CST is publishing round two of my Aussie Adventures.  I feel like if I wasn’t so tired form work and wrestling with things (things being the charismatic movement, the burden of being female, etc. etc.) I’d be ecstatic.  Instead I’m relatively subdued.  Pleased, but subdued.

Also thinking about being “public”.  If some Scottsdalian reads CST, finds my little Aussie quip interesting, and finds this here blog, how much of what’s up here reflects on the newspaper that so generously lets me learn the writing business from them?  And what if the Jr Highers I used to mentor at church find it? Will they be disappointed, or will they be glad?  Do I actually want to be public?

And if I can’t “be public” with my life…what kind of life am I living?  Eek.

I should probably grow up a bit, clean up my language a bit, and get on a posting schedule.  My intentions were so awesome in January, I’ve just gotten…lazy?  Lazy.  What a gross word.  Ugh, sloppy is even worse.

Anyway, sorz for the lack of entertainment and information the last two months.  I’m boring myself to tears just thinking about it.

And I’m pinky-promising to post thoughts on the spiritually weird and the annoyace of being a girl.  In the meantime, enjoy this piece on not joining the vegan cult;  http://www.carpevegan.com/?page_id=352

I’m being serious; it rocked my world.

Lovin’ you, faithful reader.

P.S. My disaster of the day was when I set a tray on the stand, lifted a plate from one end, the the entire thing crashed onto the restaurant floor.  Plates shattered, baby wailing, yours truly awkwardly trying to joke.  “Hey, you’re awake now! No coffee refill necessary!”  #gerdamnit

^Being attractive.

I’ve decided to quit being a wussy and come back to the blogosphere.

There’s only so long a person can go wallowing in disillusionment of Self and blogger’s block.  Life is still interesting, it is still good, and we’ve got stories to tell, so I’m back.

“Heeeeeeeere’s Johnny!”

^That’s how I feel.

And, hello, what’s the use of going through realizations and learning experiences if you’re going to play like its not happening?  And then there’s the trouble of wanting to explain something no one explained to me, like credit cards and insurance in foreign countries, but I can’t very well pretend I didn’t make this Beatles Farewell Tour of a last post and move on all nonchalant.

So here we are.  I just wanted you to know I’m still around, still figuring out food, relationships, how to travel (and if its ok to travel for fun), God-stuff, etc.

The past couple weeks have involved neglecting my worshipful dog, humming M.I.A’s Paper Planes all day at work, Margarita Mondays (and Wednesdays, and what’s wrong with Thursdays?) re-discovering the Psalms, and paying off half my debt*.  There’s been much psychoanalysis (mostly thanks to my brother, who’s tripping at his own self-realizations) and much Justified watched. I’m officially visiting my newlywed friends in Nebraska in September and my brother and friend are officially visiting me in a couple weeks.

And work? Its not as crazy as it used to be, and judging by my schedule (I open every day I work…like a pro…which causes me to realize I am their 2nd longest-running employee these days) I am loved and needed.  Woop woop!

Consider yourself updated.

On a sidenote, remember disasters?  I had a disaster riding my bike home from Safeway the other day; I crashed into a pole, shattering the glass olive oil bottle and eliciting laughter from the guys at the bus stop.  I was cool though.  I finished the ride home, returned for the oily shards of glass, and pouted at Safeway.  Safeway has the best customer service ever and got me another bottle, which I did not shatter on the way home.  How ’bout them apples for entertainment?!?!

*Fist pump!

Hey guys,

please excuse the Quiet for the next little bit.  I think its finally sinking in that I’m back in America and in debt for the foreseeable future, and I’m having a rough time adjusting.  Its not surreal anymore, its just kind’ve a sad detachment, which is why the past few posts have been shit writing.  And I’m realizing sad things, like how I’m still selfish and still take advantage of others, how I’m so stubborn I embarrass the ones I love, and how I’m actually only vegan because it “saves” me from that pesky old eating disorder.

In lieu of the soul-work and stillness I’m craving, I am not going to post anything here until I have something of value to say.

Cheers.