I get so distracted, looking at other people’s lives. One of my favorite things to do on the Internet is to find someone clever, smart, pretty, funny, etc.—any quality I fear is lacking in myself, and don’t most of us fear this at one point or another?—and dive down the rabbit hole of their personality in whatever way I can. If I am lucky there are blog pages upon blog pages to read, an endless number of YouTube results, a Tweet here or there that leaves me staring/mentally drooling at my laptop screen at 1:30 in the morning, wondering how I can make anything of myself when so much talent is already out there, so many people who seem to be polished and brave and there, doing whatever it is they want to do, while some days I feel it’s hard to get out of bed.
That’s the thing about this age we’re in. We have access to an endless amount of information about people and issues and ideas like never before, which, on a good day, makes me want to run around and talk excitedly about it to anyone who feels like listening. Look at what this person did! Look how they’re making a living! Look, look, look, it’s all possible! I wonder if I can do this???!!! Because even though in my heart I’ve found The Thing That I Want to Do, the part of me that’s terrified of trying and failure and being put on display likes to pull up the comforter and ask, what else is out there? How have these people done their things? Maybe I should do those things? And I have a feeling a part will always think like this, half out of the desire to grow and half out of the desire to stay exactly where I am. Every day is an arm-wrestle with myself, to acknowledge that both of these parts exists, and to feel them doesn’t make me a hypocrite or a fraud. I think it’s good to wonder. The dangerous part is letting the wondering keep you in bed. That’s what I’m working on.
10:48 am • 17 April 2014
drama and snake-friendship.
I was gonna make like a 2 page comic just for fun and then it ended up with 6 pages, woops
the snake in this comic is so cute and limbless and snakey
8:10 pm • 14 April 2014 • 4,705 notes
Sometimes I have a fun night out and proceed to come home and play the Sims on my iphone (idk, man) and look through old photobooth pictures. Look at this trio of cute shorthaired Jills, even if the photos are kind of shitty. (Also Oshy, don’t I look like you in the top one?? Maybe it’s just me.) Seeing these makes me miss that cut a little, hmmmmm.
One of the iterations of this haircut in the summer of 2012 ended up in the right side being shorter than I had intended but still aight, but prompted my former boss’ boss to ask if I had gotten it “to get a little extra air conditioning.” This story is mostly pointless except for a long time I had boring hair that no one would comment on even to maybe make fun of it so I consider this a WIN
1:21 am • 12 April 2014 • 5 notes
nostalgia york city
I watched a little bit of “I Like Killing Flies,” a documentary about the original Shopsin’s General Store in Greenwich Village that’s on Netflix. My mom took me there when I was youngish, maybe 11 or 12, when I was old enough to appreciate the city for what it had to offer beyond FAO Schwartz. I probably asked her what sort of restaurant it was several times while we wandered the streets of low-hanging buildings, her confused in a pre-smartphone era about the unnumbered streets, far from our familiar grid of Penn Station and its 20-block radius thereabouts, and me just confused, willing to follow wherever. “The owner’s daughter wears a shirt that says Die, Yuppie Scum,” she probably answered, remembering an anecdote from a PBS special or a Times write-up or one of her friends.
(Today, on the phone she says she talked to her old friend from college and told him, “We must have gone to a show every week in 1976!” My mom was a hippie (hippieish? I don’t know, I wasn’t there) who sewed her own clothes, and drew, and probably relished this slice of antiestablishment in the very early aughts, even though she had grown up to be an elementary school librarian with three long-limbed kids, none of whom had inherited her nose.)
I must have nodded, understanding implicitly that the city and its inhabitants were a different breed than those of Long Island, and that this was to be celebrated. We walked past the unassuming storefront once before doubling back, finding it, and entering. I gazed at the simple laminated menu, amazed at the block of text before me: what must have been hundreds of offerings, all available for the tasting. I chose chocolate-chip pancakes, mostly because I delighted in the idea of eating them outside of breakfast hours, and my mom said okay. During our meal, one of the Shopsins kicked out a customer who took a call on their phone.
There’s no point in arguing about what’s the real New York, what we stand to lose, because there will always be a loss, and all of it will be real. But it was moments like those that I filed away to access when I needed to drift, needed hitch my star to a someday. I could be a person like that, I’d think, who orders pancakes whenever, who eats them and goes on to fill the rest of a day, a life, with all the interesting smells and people and things to see on that skinny, too-crowded island. I could be another person who chose to mythologize it through the high rents and the dirt and the people who yell at you on public transit, though I didn’t know all of that then. Who knows what else we did that day—usually it was something in Central Park. I have pictures of myself in flared jeans with butterflies up the sides, leaning self-consciously against the plaque for the Alice in Wonderland statue. I hope I asked my mom then if we could go see the lights on Times Square*, just as it went dark, before heading back for a pizza slice and a slow ride home on the train.
*I fucking hate Times Square now but just go with it
11:31 pm • 7 April 2014 • 4 notes
The Library of Congress has made a ton of images available of women working during WWII — actual real-life riveting Rosies. You can see a bunch more at Stuff Mom Never Told You.
(Source: bigfatfeminist, via smartgirlsattheparty)
11:07 pm • 7 April 2014 • 14,355 notes
Pears fall in love, too. That’s why they lay below trees.
12:00 pm • 1 April 2014 • 184 notes
apparently a roach was found in our apartment
I’m thinking it wooshed in from outside, since our front door is pretty close to the building door, but the most help I can offer in my roommates’ email thread is posting a video to Papa Roach’s “Last Resort.” HELPFUL, JILL
2:27 pm • 31 March 2014
Want to know what is so cool? How people have different handwriting but a lot of it is also really similar throughout time periods. Like I can tell my dad’s handwriting is my dad’s but it is such DAD handwriting, you know? Why didn’t any handwritten signs from the 1920s look like Cher Horowitz wrote them, you know what I mean? When was the first heart dotted over a lowercase i recorded? Who coordinated all the wispy writing in antique postcards to look the same? My mom always did a little squiggle for a receipt signature and I thought that was so grown-up, how she didn’t need to think about it. People’s handwriting is so cool. I will probably feel silly writing this tomorrow but let’s all appreciate this right now.
10:33 pm • 27 March 2014 • 6 notes
Actually did stuff this weekend! Starting Friday at lunch: rode in a cab with a driver who laughed loudly at everything he said and wondered out loud if people move to New Jersey “for the name” and revealed that Ocala, FL was his favorite place in the world. Volunteered for the Gowanus Canal Conservancy which did not mean cleaning up the canal itself, thankfully, but spreading mulch and repotting plants that survived the winter in a salt lot right next to it with a bunch of genuinely friendly people and a free burger at the end to boot. I fell asleep when I got home after all the work and my roommate said when she woke me up I screamed something like “Holy fucking Christ!” because waking up a tired Jill is a hard thing to do. Sorry everyone. But we made it to Williamsburg for the Pizza Underground show and the band and Macaulay Culkin were totally cute. The crowd was sweaty and terrible, but whatever. We got home and I laid down once more after chugging several glasses of water, hoping my headache would be gone by morning.
12:54 pm • 24 March 2014 • 1 note
This is it, guys. We’re in the homestretch of our Kickstarter campaign for Got a Girl Crush Magazine, Issue #3 with only 4 days left and a little less than $1200 to raise! We’re *so* close, but not quite there yet.
For those of you who haven’t pledged yet, your dollars will contribute toward bringing a years worth of work to fruition. At any of the $25+ reward levels, you will receive your very own copy of Issue #3 along with some cool knick-knacks like an embroidered patch, tote bag, and more. If you can only contribute a few dollars, you still get some cool digital knick-knacks like wallpapers for your phone, tablet and desktop. Really, we’re grateful for any level of support!
For those of you who have already pledged and supported us, we can’t thank you enough. Please continue to tell your friends, families, coworkers, neighbors, and local shops about our project so we can reach our goal and get funded!
It’s been amazing seeing the amount of support come from all corners of the world, and we are even more excited than ever to show all of you what we’ve been working on. If we get funded, Got a Girl Crush, Issue #3 will be in your hot litlte hands very very soon!
Our Kickstarter ends Friday, March 21st at 3:30PM PDT. PLEASE BACK OUR PROJECT NOW!
12:23 pm • 17 March 2014 • 27 notes