The little or big black dogs.

On memory:

"We had a black dog when I was little. It would knock me down and bust open my lip every time we let it out ( at least once a week). It lived in our backyard.
That's alot of information to not be privy to." - Gingoneous

We will write more soon.
love, jessieh

"The death penalty is not a proportional punishment for the rape of a child,"

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25367455/from/ET/

because we are very upset and as a general rule,
when we are very upset we tend to not make any
rational or logical sense, we are going to refrain
from writing commentary on such things for now.

the advice of crazy, fire-breathing, snake-handling women is to be ignored on most occasions but in this situation we agree with Old Aunt Ruthie:

"THE WORLD IS GOIN' TO HELL IN A HAND-BASKET; THE GOOD PEOPLES IS JUSTA' FALLIN' IN WITH 'EM."

love, we

boy do we have a story to tell

shortly, meaning within the next 24 hours; we have a huge story to tell. this will happen once the busy-ness dies down. 4.5 days between Minnesota and I. This is good. Very good.

love, jessieh

New guest Blogger Cat.

Hi Jessieh. I wanted to tell you and everyone who reads your blog that I love you. It was terribly hot where I am today and so I was stretched out on the floor laying on my back and trying to catch a little breeze through my paws and I was thinking of you. I am going to post a big shameless picture of my big shameless self laying on the floor, trying to keep it cool and thinking of you because I have heard through the metaphorical 'grapevine' that you think I am magic and also extremely cute. You are a smart woman.
p.s.- I am glad it makes you laugh when Jenny sings you "Manic Monday" but I have to tell you that it is a little hard on my super cute and super sensitive little ears.
Love,
Your Besty Friend Forever,
Dr. Larry Lloyd

Sub-memories

"These were not memories. These were sub-memories. Images from a place beneath the waking world, deeper than a dream, a place where logic dissolved. It was beyond remembering. It was knowing." - Tim O'Brien, In The Lake Of The Woods

----

{.thank you to Denis Darzacq for the clear explain-ation.}

.post-therapy madness.

love, jessieh

Guest Post by Artconstellation.

This was our big dance video from last summer. Or one of them anyway. We will be together in just two weeks and with our friends Adam and Eve! I am sure we will have a lot of new dancing videos to put here after that. I love you Fritter. Artconstellation

the fun Nitty Gritty of Body Image, Purging and Tempting Anorexia.

Readers Note: I am not advocating eating disorders. I am not blaming eating disorders on people reading fashion magazines (because quite frankly, I believe that if you read the latest issue of Vogue or Allure and feel fat or ugly, you were feeling ugly and fat before you read it). Stop reading these magazines. If you are recovering from an eating disorder, I suggest you not read the following blog entry, for it is not likely to contribute to your recovery.

What's funny about what I am about to write is that the happenings I am about to try to work out; understand more clearly happened last night on June 16th. This morning, as I sit here trying to piece together this "oh-god, my-brain-has -been -taken -over -by- food" stuff- I began searching for a blog entry that I remembered writing about my history of eating problems as I understood them at the time. It turns out, this entry was written exactly a year before the happenings I am about to discuss. Funny, how that works, eh?

Last night, I celebrated my birthday with my adoptive family because on my actual birthday, they were out of town visiting other family members and I was here, celebrating with Ms.Hepburn, The Flague, A secret family, Sam, Jenny, Lloyd, Eve, and We the People. Anyway, this of course, is not the intended point. I was at dinner last night, a wonderful Asian cuisine, eating Sushi, talking about their Pennsylvania trip, and enjoying the company of my adoptive family and trying to remain as comfortable as possible with this whole-she's-gotten-another-year-older celebration. I was doing a really really good job. I loved the Sushi. It was so good. While I was eating it, I don't remember once thinking/hearing, YOU ARE A BAD PERSON FOR EATING THIS. and trust us, this is major progress. I was actually not worrying about my food at all, and I was actually enjoying the taste of it. Wow. Great. Good food. I didn't consider throwing it up. I didn't have that feeling in my stomach of ultimate and complete badness that 9.75 out of 10 time accompanies any meal I dare consume. I ENJOYED MY DINNER LAST NIGHT. I ENJOYED THE PEOPLE I WAS AROUND. I HAD FUN. I LAUGHED. WHEN THE USUAL FEARS DID ARISE, I COULD FIND A PAIR OF EYES TO LOCK WITH AND SOMEHOW IT MADE THE FEARS FALL APART INTO NON-LOGICAL NOTHINGNESS.
{even when we had a slice of the wonderful cake Ms. Dana brought I was not consumed by need-to-vomit-ness.}

and then, I had to come home. To a place where, it is evidently not understood that I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY WEIGHT OR THE FOOD I AM EATING with you, unless I ask you what you think about my weight or the food I am eating.

I walk through the living room, dressed in bare-nothing, shorts and a bra, headed for the laundry closet. The only person in the home who could see me strut almost-naked through the living room is my grandmother, a woman overweight, in her fifties, sitting in her nightgown, plopped pleasantly on the couch and she says to me, "OH, Honey, you're getting a little hippy aren't you?"

of course this comment started a whole series of thoughts, most of which my grandmother will never understand or know i was telepathically hoping to communicate as i stopped dead-middle of my journey to the laundry closet and starred at her, blankly, desperately trying to regain balance. The stare, however was not really blank it was a loaded stare, dead into her eyes that screamed, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? A LITTLE HIP-PY. IF YOU ARE GOING TO CALL ME FAT, SAY FAT SO THAT IT AT LEAST SOUNDS THE WAY IT IS MEANT TO AND NOT LIKE SO DISGUSTING LITTLE ADVICE TO LOSE WEIGHT BEFORE I GO BACK TO SCHOOL! YOU MUST LIKE THE IDEA OF ME HANGING MY HEAD OVER SOMETHING AND BARFING! YOU SICK DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YOU ASK ME A QUESTION LIKE THAT- IT WASN'T A QUESTION, IT WAS A STATEMENT OF YOUR OPINION REGARDING MY HEALTHY WEIGHT THAT I HAPPEN TO BE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY INSECURE ABOUT BECAUSE ON MOST OCCASIONS I FEEL THAT I WOULD BE A BETTER PERSON IF I WERE THINNER! WHICH IS ABOUT AS STUPID AND INSANE OF AN IDEA AS ME GETTING A LITTLE HIPPY. I'M NOT HIPPY YOU COW! I'M NORMAL. NORMAL. NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T THINK I AM FAT, AND YOU DON'T COUNT AS A PERSON BECAUSE YOU THINK OF YOURSELF AS A GOD AND I DON'T WORSHIP YOU FLUFFY!!!!"

of course the real excitement of this particular entire inner-monologue is the fact that she heard none of the above that was being shouted inside by an eight year old and decided to chuckle at my blank stare instead.

AND I WANTED TO DIE. THE END.

JUST WHEN WE ARE GETTING BETTER A LITTLE REMINDER COMES THAT WE SHOULD NEVER EAT AGAIN.

love, jessieh

Anewsrant & A Artconstellation

First.

Jenny (Artconstellation) did something beautiful in honor of the soon-coming father's day. Okay, she didn't (to my knowledge) set out to do this as a father's day thing, but it so appropriately fell in place that it was hard to notice and when someone does something that is so incredible- I think it needs to be talked about. I love Jenny but that is not exactly why I am writing. I am writing because the idea of what she did is really big in my brain and it is hardtoholdontofortoolong or I want to crawl somewhere and make myself go to bed.

She made a business card, you know those really inexpensive order-online business cards advertising her work and her blog and herself as person(hood). Okay, wait, back up- in order for this to make sense I should introduce Jenny. She is a very big superhero of mine. The following information can be found on her blog but this is a little summary: She is a survivor of seventeen years of horrific sexual abuse. Her father was her abuser, this of course, is one of many reasons why father's day is not exactly the best of days for her. She is also an artist, who is about to move to Italy to marry the love of her life and continue her art career.

But the really-big-deal-happy thing that we are writing about is this:

The Incredible poet Sharon Olds wrote a poem called I go back to May 1937. The last lines are "I say Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it." Instead of clinging to that safe place of non-motivating, yet really really expressive and healthy anger- Jenny is doing something more. She is telling about it. About her experience as an artist, about her experience as a woman trying to cope with 17 years (please take a moment and realize this is how long I have been alive) of terror, while living with other inner people, and managing to somehow stay intact enough to impact others and encourage and brighten and try to move her two cats to Italy, so that she can get married (which if you haven't seen the statistics about marriage and sexual abuse and DID, you should look into it), and promote awareness and kindness and an END TO WORLD GONE WRONGNESS. This is the woman we are talking about. This year for father's day, she is going to be telling about it. Before she leaves for Italy she will be making a trip to another part of the US and her cards will be going with her, they will be left in every public (and private) place she encounters. Then, she is off to Italy where her cards will be spread throughout another country and each one labels her as an artist, a writer, and a sexual abuse survivor. Imagine all of the people that will encounter this statement of

"Yes this horrible horribleness happened

and Yes I am telling about it

and Yes there is something we can all do to end this sickness

and Yes you are not alone. "

I am in awe of her strength and I am so excited for what is to come.

A picture of the business card can be found here. (It wouldn't load on my blog for some odd reason. I will try again soon.)

Second.

The news reporter for the local news just said, "A local pastor is accused of the unthinkable with a child". The "unthinkable" that was being referenced is the sexual molestation of a teenager. While I AM COMPLETELY GRATEFUL that the media is actually covering it and not minimizing the severe nature of the crime, I realizeWE REALLY DO HAVE A HUGE HUGE PROBLEM WITH DENIAL AND NOT LOOKING AT REALITY IN THIS COUNTRY IF THE "UNTHINKABLE" is a teenager being molested. This is not unthinkable, this (being SEXUAL VIOLENCE) is happening every single moment of every single day. 1 out of every 3 girls will be the victim of attempted or completed sexual violence before she turns 18. This is not unthinkable. I've been reading/writing/drawing/trying to forget/hearing/living/dealing/coping with/THINKING about it for a LONG LONG TIME.

love, jessieh

PS: Anne Frank would have turned 79 yesterday. In case we didn't already say that.

.ten/notes/of/the/evening.

1. This quote: (Roughly) "Eating disorders are not the real problem-people have much bigger problems and they are taking it out on their food."- Jenny (Artconstellation)
2. Two pairs of blue jeans were purchased on behalf of my body.
3. I AM NOW OFFICIALLY LEAVING FOR MINNESOTA ON JUNE 30TH. (PLEASE SEE COUNTDOWN CLOCK ON THE LEFT HAND SIDE OF THE SCREEN, RIGHT ABOVE THE MUSIC PLAYER THAT SAYS "MUSIC THAT SOUNDS LIKE ANI DIFRANCO". CLICK ON THAT WHILE YOU ARE AT IT.) THE PLANE TICKET HAS BEEN PURCHASED AND WE ARE READY TO GO!
4. I'm working on something special starting tonight.
5. Thanks to a Ginger, I'm not only journaling in the most beautiful handmade journal in the world but I'm also learning (okay, so attempting to learn) how to use a camera and while I don't really know that much I do know that the smaller the number on the f-stop (? probablyscrewedthatup?), the more light that is allowed in.
6. I took a picture a year ago of this orange chair next to a tree on the property of the former state mental hospital. Every week when I would ride by, the orange chair was still their as if someone attended to its being there on a regular basis. Today was the first time I passed by and did not see it. I looked around and there was nothing. Drove another 9 feet, there it was placed facing away from the oak tree it sat under for so long and now every time there is an idle moment of "ohgod,coulditbethatwearenotthinkingfortwosec-NO!"- I hear two things, 1.) "YouareaBADperson." and 2.) "SOMEONE HAS BEEN SITTING IN THAT ORANGE CHAIR." I took another photograph of it today.
7. The above picture was taken on the night of scenes, also the night of the Roe v. Wade performance. Last night Sam (the beautiful creature on the right in the photo above) and I went to Waffle House. We colored together in our new sketchbooks/journals/hash brown-stained napkins. She brought a box of 120 crayons. That was nice and fun. We were re-introduced to a Vietnam Veteran named Ron who has schizophrenia, but spends his time doing handy jobs for local Pentecostal churches. He is very elderly and kind but I am afraid of him. We then traded sketchbooks, only to discover that on JUNE 9th we both wrote the exact same first lines in our sketchbooks and didn't even know it. That was a truly beautiful moment, we just kind of looked at each other and said, "I told you we were soul mates" with our eyes. We then continued on in the experience of waffle housing and discussed things not of an eternal matter. Then the discussion changed and there we were talking about the end of the world again over diet coke and coffee.
8. "They tell me I'm crazy, but you told me I'm Golden." was part of the first lines.
9. Children all over the world are being hurt in unimaginable ways.
10. God is love.

love, jessieh

Deliver Us From Evil

love, jessieh

secret in another language.

.it's funny almost, how we all speak the same language anyway.

Birthday Wishes from Jenny Inc. (Artconstellation) & the Magical Hunk of Kitty Cat Goodness

love, jessieh

(and Mr.Murray and Mr.Day and Jason are working on a show together today. It is something I programmed mentally 2 months ago and just reemembered. I hope that is going well for them. )

Weak in IPA: Post One

" It really doesn't matter how many drawings you do, or how many other ways you try to fix it, you can't. " -Vivian

(this drawing = post-today fears.)

love, jessieh

And granny almost pooped her pants.

"WAIT! Go BACK! WAS THAT PAT ROBERTSON SITTIN' WITH- NO! OH LOAARDD."

- granny (the crazy lady)

I was more than a little happy.

love, jessieh

Polaroid Found

love, jessieh

Sunday Post: 23 (?) in 2

I will write more soon.

love, jessieh

A few more reasons why Angela Shelton is a super-shero.

She makes me smile.

love, jessieh

making it home safely & parole board to release serial rapist

We made it "home" safely. It is so odd coming back for the summer. I had literally forgotten the amount of disfunction that exists in my family, I had somehow just avoided it (but that is easy to do when you live away at school with limited contact). I've been drawing more and more in my sketchbook. Only 13 pages to go and it will be complete. I'm excited. I've been reading Anne Heche's memoir. While the writing is not nessecarily impressive, she does offer an interesting look on incest, sexual abuse, cult-nature and religious affiliation. The church Anne Heche grew up in sounds alot like the church I grew up in. Which at times, when read properly, can sound very very alarming. I start transcription review on June 2nd. Jenny made it back to the US, safely. Oh, by the way, if you are ever wondering who she is when I make reference to her: This is my dear friend (and I ). But for now, I must scramble, clean up the the kitchen, brush my teeth, get ready for the day's events.

---

From The Statesman Journal

Childhood rape victim Tiffany Edens has no confidence in the Oregon parole board.

To her dismay, Edens had to sue the board to block the planned release of Richard Troy Gillmore — the notorious "jogger rapist" who committed at least nine sexual assaults in the Portland area in the 1970s and '80s.
"It's been a frustrating battle," she said in a recent interview. "It's been very wearing on me and my family. I think it's very unfair and very unfortunate that victims have to be revictimized years later by the institution that is supposed to protect them."
Gillmore's case has become a rallying cry for parole board critics, who say it demonstrated poor judgment about a sexual predator and shabby treatment of a rape victim.
"This guy is one of the worst rapists in the Oregon prison system," said Steve Doell, president of Oregon Crime Victims United. "God only knows what they were thinking in approving his release."
In the wake of Edens' lawsuit and a rebuke from a Marion County judge, the parole board agreed to reconsider Gillmore's case at a yet-to-be-scheduled hearing.
"It's been a true disappointment to see the parole board take the course of action that they have, although I think they've tried to rectify it now through the advice of counsel with this next hearing," said Russ Ratto, a senior deputy district attorney in Multnomah County who sued the board on behalf of Edens.
Edens clings to hope that the three-member panel will reach a different decision this time.
"He is a predator, he belongs in prison," she said. "He played normal and here he was a serial rapist, raping several women in his neighborhood."
Edens was 13 when Gillmore broke into her family's Portland-area home on the evening of Dec. 5, 1986. He threatened to kill the terrified girl, then raped her.
The Statesman Journal normally does not identify victims of sexual crimes. Edens asked to be identified by her maiden name. "I want other victims to feel that they can step forward, that they don't have to be held down," she said.
Now 35, Edens is married, the mother of three children and still lives in the Portland area. She is a blunt critic of the parole board, calling it "desensitized" to the plight of people whose lives have been ripped apart by violent criminals.
Between 1979 and 1981, Gillmore terrorized southeast Portland by committing a series of rapes. At that time, the then-unidentified rapist was known as the "jogger rapist" because he stalked his victims while he was jogging. After being arrested for raping Edens, Gillmore admitted to eight attacks linked to the "jogger rapist." He wasn't prosecuted for those rapes because they were too old under Oregon's then-applicable three-year statute of limitations.
A Multnomah County judge found Gillmore guilty of rape, burglary and two counts of sexual abuse in the Edens case in October 1987. The judge found Gillmore to be a sexually dangerous offender and sentenced him to 30 years in prison for the rape and burglary counts, with a 15-year minimum on each count.
The sentences were to run consecutively, meaning Gillmore had a 60-year sentence with a 30-year minimum.
In 1988, only a year after Gillmore was convicted, the parole board overrode one of his 15-year sentences. That made him eligible for parole in 2001.
The parole board nixed Gillmore's requests for release in 2001, 2003 and 2005. In September, it green-lighted him for parole. Edens said she learned about the board's release decision from her mother, who happened to check on Gillmore's status.
The notion of the serial rapist being back on the streets hit her like a lightning bolt, Edens said. Outraged, she and other family members contacted the parole board and "begged and pleaded" for a chance to testify. The board agreed to a rehearing in October.
In a hearing room at the Oregon State Correctional Institution in Salem, Edens faced the man who raped her when she was a junior high school student.
"That was really hard for me," she recounted. "It's like revisiting a nightmare. It was very surreal to see him after 21 years."
Edens urged the board to keep Gillmore incarcerated.
"To have raped so many women is a travesty," she testified. "But Richard Troy Gillmore only serving less than a third of his sentence for only one of the violent rapes he committed is an injustice to me and the seven other victims."
Multnomah County prosecutor Ratto also testified. He told the board that Gillmore would be "a monster on the loose" if let back into the community.
In his testimony, Gillmore described himself as rehabilitated. He wiped away tears when he apologized to Edens.
After the hearing, board members huddled behind closed doors — standard procedure — to discuss the case and reach a decision. After 45 minutes, the board returned to announce the verdict: Gillmore remained "a danger to the health or safety of others," but he "can be adequately controlled with supervision and mental health treatment which are available in the community."
The board set his release date for Dec. 18.
Edens dropped her head to the hearing room table and sobbed.
Even now, she can't understand why the board chose to let Gillmore out. She cited a psychological evaluation of him by Frank Colistro, a veteran forensic psychologist who concluded in a June report that Gillmore continues to "suffer from a severe personality disorder, one not amenable to community-based treatment or supervision."
"I couldn't believe that three professionals were taking a convicted serial rapist's word against an educated doctor's evaluation," Edens said. "I thought that was just asinine. They don't seem to understand who he is. He's one of these really sophisticated criminals, very manipulative, very sociopathic. He's a chameleon who can meld himself into whatever he needs to be so he can get what he wants."
To stop Gillmore's release, Edens and the Multnomah County district attorney's office sued the parole board late last year.
In January, Marion County Circuit Judge Paul Lipscomb blocked Gillmore's release pending a new parole-consideration hearing. He ruled that the board committed several procedural errors, including failing to give Edens proper notice about hearings and failing to provide a full written explanation of its decision to free Gillmore, despite finding that he was still dangerous.
It was a gratifying victory for Edens.
"That was really empowering for me and my family to have Judge Lipscomb really take the facts in, take his time and really make a good statement," she said.
Lipscomb said he lacked authority under Oregon law to reverse "any ill-advised or mistaken release decision" by the parole board. However, the judge added that he felt compelled to express concerns about the board's decision to free the rapist, noting that "the only available expert evidence documents that Gillmore is even more dangerous and less amenable to be safely managed in the community than he appeared in 2001, 2003, 2005 and in April of 2007."
After the judge's rebuke, parole officials defended the decision to release Gillmore in a written statement: "In deciding that Mr. Gillmore could be adequately supervised in the community, the board considered Mr. Gillmore's long record of positive prison conduct and responsible work history, the many classes and treatment programs he has successfully completed, as well as his understanding of his past criminal behavior."
The parole board could have appealed Lipscomb's ruling. Instead, the board ended the legal fight by agreeing to hold a new hearing. Plans call for Gillmore to be examined by two more psychologists prior to the hearing.
Awaiting the next round in her battle to keep Gillmore behind bars, Edens said she's eager to testify against him again.
However, she lacks faith in the board members who will decide his fate.
"I think a used car salesman could read a human being better than these three," she said.
agustafs@StatesmanJournal.com or (503) 399-6709

---

I don't have anything to say about this right now. I am severely disgusted. It does not make sense, not human, logical sense. I think it is important to look at the other news coverage of this, where is it? Releasing a serial rapist back into society sounds like important news to me.

love, jessieh

If you could see this room. (Plans for the soon future)

It is move out time.

The year has gone so fast.

I'm packing up all of my belongings and it is an overwhelming task.
I do not want to leave and moving out assists in my fears that for whatever reason I will not be back, I worry sometimes that I will die over the summer or lose the sanity I have left. These are fears not to be taken so seriously by myself the way I fear screwing up in tap class. Tap class produces feelings of panic so high that I want to throw my tap shoe through the glass studio windows and jump out. I would never do this, of course but the thought comes easily when everyone around me continues practicing their tap combinations at completely different rates so all the tap shoes are clanking in every which way and all that noise, dear God, I hate that noise.

I never realized how afraid of that sound I am, no known reason why, just am.

I've been here and not here for this past week.

Sam and I performed the Roe v. Wade production. We received a standing ovation. People were proud, and excited. The feedback we've received has been comforting and reminds me of why we decided to embrace this controversial topic to begin with. The project is hereby over for now. We may be editing and doing something bigger with it over the summer. I need to find a job, the only problem is I WILL NOT WORK WITH FOOD. That would not be healthy for me. NO WORKING WITH FOOD OR CONSTRUCTION because the smell of construction job sites makes me want to vomit. I hope to visit Jenny in the early part of June. I need to obtain my driver's license. I have yet to do that, I know. I know.

Scenes were performed on Thursday and Friday night. Thursday's performance was much better than Friday's. All of us (the actors) seemed much more focused on listening to each other on Thursday night. Granted there were a few distractions; A LOUD OBNOXIOUS TWO YEAR OLD CRYING, a whole row of ADHD adults who forgot their medication squirming, and people walking in and out of the theatre during the middle of some one's scene.

Thursday night Mere and Aunt Pam and my twins and Jordan came to see it. They are so beautiful, brought beautiful flowers and yummy white chocolate I couldn't eat because it had almonds in it. It was so beautiful though, we went to dinner and then I felt horrible because at dinner my sisters and I didn't really talk much. Mere and I did; which was wonderful and I needed to talk to someone, I've felt so far away from people recently. The twins seemed tired and like they didn't have much to talk about. We don't talk about their school because they hate school. We talked about movies that are coming out but I don't know the up and coming movies. We talk about books but the only book I've been reading the past four weeks in Angels in America: Part One and Two, and trying to explain why I am so compelled by that work is like trying to justify getting stoned out of my mind, driving to Texas, adopting a seven year old, binging on 14 cheeseburgers and then driving back home to introduce the seven year old to my family who is trying to figure out how they are going to afford to send me to school. So, obviously I did not discuss Angels in America. So I talked about school and the year end most of the time and I know THEY MUST GET TIRED OF HEARING ABOUT SCHOOL but I CANNOT HELP IT. I LIVE AT SCHOOL, MOST, STRIKE THAT, ALL OF MY "SOCIAL" LIFE INCLUDES MY STUDIO MEMBERS WHO I SPEND EVERYDAY ALL DAY IN CLASS WITH. Anyway, it is something that concerns me and IfeellikeabadfriendwhenIcanbringnothingmoretothetableofconversationbutthenirealizethattheywillstilllovemeanywayandtheworldisnotgoingtoendsimplybecauseiamcanthinkofnothingmoretodiscuss.

Then on Friday night I had a rather large group of supporters. My Grandeddy and sister Jourdan came. My dear mentors and friends Amy and K.F. came. That was exciting. The two Lindas, both working on behalf of child abuse prevention and understanding came, brought their friend Cheryl. That was nice. They seemed very impressed by the work.

Amy said something that was really encouraging and still is, especially with evaluations approaching, she said: Ya know, at the end we couldn't believe what had just happened, we just sat there in our chairs for a few minutes in awe of what had been done.

It was a special night. I am going to miss working with Jason, as hard headed as he can be sometimes. I am going to mis- No. Save the missings for Wednesday when I have to leave. For now I must go pack.

Yesterday Ms.Hepburn and I went to Pat's (Patrick) house to paint. We repainted his bedroom, from salmon pink to robin's egg blue. The whole room. It was exhausting but semi-relaxing, all that light blue. Then I had my first Sushi experience and it was very tasty, left me with warm fuzzy feelings.

Then we met members of Studio III and Studio IV at a sports grill downtown, sat with them. I don't remember the conversations really. I was in and out. At some point we ended up at the school's courtyard where a dance was going on, a DJ was there. Nothing too thrilling though. Danced for 15 or 20 minutes and then headed back to the destroyed room. It is disgusting. There is barely room to walk in here, both Sam and I are in that stage of packing with everything must be destroyed before it can be clean again. I'm worried I'm not going to have enough boxes. I should have had Mere or Grandeddy bring me some more. Such as life.

Then a terrible series of brain malfunctions occurred; I have little memory of each. Flashbacks, panic attacks, sweaty hands and dead feet. I didn't feel it would be smart to stay in the room by myself so I went to Ms.Hepburn's room and talked about relationship issues and listened to Thomas Dybdahl and did some hardcore reminiscing. I crawled in Lindsay's bed (her roommate, who was originally scheduled to be my roommate but it wasn't organized that way for whatever reason). She wasn't there, she was at home. Lindsay got her first tattoo yesterday. We are all really happy for her, she's been wanting one for a long time. She designed it herself. We will get to see it this afternoon. For next year I am going to make more of an effort to spend more time with Lindsay because she is such a beautiful, fun, outgoing person with a lot of talent and kindness to offer the world. I fell asleep later in Ms.Hepburn's arms to the sound of music. It was nice. I woke up though hours later confused and in nightmare aftermath. Such as life.

I am very hard on myself some days and want everything to be all better but then I breathe and step back and look at how far Grace has brought me and this whole healing journey that I'm on- which believe me if anyone has a problem with phrases like "healing journey" it's me- but I cannot deny what it is. When I look at all of this I realize that I am coping the best ways I can and it is not going to be all better over night and I just need to live moment by moment but-

for now, in this moment I need to clean and pack.

I have two finals tomorrow; one in French and one in Tap. I am equally terrified of the two.

Remember three things today:

1.) God loves.

2.) Children all over the world are being hurt in unimaginable ways.

3.) "So it goes."

and we beat on, praying for the innocents.

love, jessieh

Thank you Studio IV

As graduation approaches for Studio IV:
Baz Luhrmann Everybody's Free

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’09 If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience…I will dispense this advice now. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked….You’re not as fat as you imagine. Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday. Do one thing everyday that scares you Sing Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours. Floss Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself. Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you succeed in doing this, tell me how. Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements. Stretch Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life…the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t. Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone. Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children,maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary…what ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s. Enjoy your body, use it every way you can…don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.. Dance…even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room. Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them. Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly. Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young. Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel. Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders. About that, try and respect your elders. Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out. Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85. Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth. But trust me on the sunscreen… "

love, jessieh