I got my hair cut for the first time in ages. I tried multiple times to get a good angle of it, but this is the best I could shoot. I have bangs. I haven't had bangs since the 6th grade. For some reason, this cut makes me feel like a rock star. I'm not sure. But I think it's the bangs.

"Bangs are so hot right now, Car."

"Yeah, but I dunno..."

"Just take a risk. If you don't like it, you can just grow them out again."

"Alright. Do it. Before I change my mind."

And I can't go back now.

I woke up (unintentionally) around 6:30 this morning. I had some things to do, so I just decided I'd get up for the day. I was driving through town and I passed the Kirkland Waterfront around 7:45 am. It was so beautiful, I decided I had to pull over and take some pictures. This is where I live. This is my town. I live about 10 minutes from this very spot. And it just so happens that it's the same place Art kissed me for the first time. Not that I'm a hopeless romantic or anything like that.



And here are a few more.

Picture #2.
Picture #3.
Picture #4.
Picture #5.

More random thoughts (because I can't think of anything else to write)...

Daylight Savings doesn't work. I know. Because I'm staring out my window presently and it's pitch black outside. And it's only 5:35 pm. Ridiculous.

I just finished a new painting for eBay. Finally. It's been more than a week since I've painted anything. That's way too long to go without creating something. The link is here or in the sidebar.

I really want to redesign my blog. Actually, I'm not up to redesigning it. I want someone else to do it. I've got some ideas, but I'm not html-knowledgable enough to do it. But before anyone starts volunteering to be the one to redesign it, I've already got a few people in mind to go to. However! If you have any ideas, feel free to offer them. I'd like to know what you guys think.

Sneezing always gives me goosebumps. Quite a thrill, really.

I have a guitar. I think I'll play it.

Here's one of my latest pictures: Picture.

There's nothing better than having the freedom to rush to the grocery store at midnight simply because of the overwhelming desire for some "cold ones." Well, I went for the orange soda. Amy, on the other hand... She went for the Bud Light.



Life can be happy when you let it.

For my sister, Cassie. Please watch in full.

SB Email #38.

I love my new camera. Check out this very first picture I took of a dog I'm currently taking care of.

If you enjoy dark, cynical humor as much as I do, then you will enjoy this chick. She is always writing some of the wittiest stories. Like this one.

Random Thoughts from one very ill 19-year-old chick in need of a hot bath

My entire head has felt like imploding for the last 48 hours. Nose--clogged. Throat--clogged. Brain--clogged. Face--clogged. Even though I know I'm not, I still find myself saying under my breath, "I'm dying..."

Anyone want to go somewhere in Canada? I have a $500 credit ($700 Canadian) on WestJet that no one seems to want to transfer for their own use. It's incredibly frustrating. To purchase something out of pure, well-thought intentions only to realize that it was, in fact, a mistake--a big, fat, non-refundable mistake. And boy-o, I'm desperate.

I like my job. I really like my job. Regular hours. Friendly people. Retail experience. Commission. I really like my job. And I can't wait to quit. Why? Because it's not my dream. Most people (emphasis on most) start at some lower level in life and work their way up. I'm looking forward to when I can quit retail and travel upwards, to a new and more satisfying position. I may be "jumping the gun" here, but I'm hoping to be self-employed by the end of February or March of 2004.

My camera will be here tomorrow. By 4:30 pm. Are you excited?

I'm looking forward to church on Sunday. The series is about who God is willing to touch and who we are willing to touch. There are so many things I want to do with my life. I was talking to Daniel about the things I "can" do. Write. Paint. Play music. Photograph. I don't want to simply choose one thing and run with it as far as I can go. I want to grab them all and take them to the farthest humanly possible limits that exist. All in hopes to glorify God. I mean, why wouldn't I? He's the One who instilled the passion in me first. So unto God, I will strive to be passion until my very last.

Say it with me: The Cheat... is to... the limit.

In the last 30 seconds, I have discovered my model of singer-songwriter greatness.

Shelby Lynne.

I want to be just like Shelby Lynne. She emanates cool. And I've never been able to say that about anybody.

I had a very horrible day at work today. So I'm going to bed in hopes to forget all about it. Goodnight.

I've never been interested in watching sports television (except for the Olympics and figure skating), so when I find myself turning the television on and searching for any football game, I have to wonder why. Playing now are the University of Southern California and Notre Dame. At the present time, Notre Dame is dying. And surprisingly--(just now, Notre Dame made an incomplete pass and I actually yelled out "Oh crap!")--I'm actually concerned. I probably don't favor Notre Dame for the politically correct reason. In fact, I know I don't. I favor Notre Dame because I love the movie Rudy, and that's pretty much it.

Plus... They wear wicked cool uniforms. Purple is so their color.

I simply have to share the comment Kyle made in my comments.

"The actual; and yet, physical; and yet, EMOTIONAL qualities that are perceived in a differentiated juxtaposition, this situation does NOT surprize me, pursay... the same thing is currently happening to me? The answer is 'yes.' Yes, I AM in the same situation with living alone... well... kind of. I live with my mom and dad, but I'm gone half the time so... I wouldn't think it would be logical or intellectual to say I live with or without my parents, I'd say this whole post is just a caption to spam all over Carly's comments list for this post; ergo, I'm going to end this message so I won't fumigate the wrong impression."

Look at what I'm getting!



It will be so nice to take pictures people will want to buy. I'm gonna make it happen, baby! Yeah!

My roommate has been gone for a week. Visiting her boyfriend in Arizona. She comes back tomorrow morning and I'll be the one picking her up from the airport. I am so excited to see her. I've missed her terribly.

For a while, I thought it might be a good idea to move into an apartment on my own. That way, I wouldn't have to worry about the hassle of sharing anything. Sharing a bathroom, sharing a kitchen, a living room, a phone, anything at all. Understand, I am not saying that I hate sharing or the act of being generous. I simply worried about invading each other's space. But now that I've gone almost two months living with this girl, I can hardly imagine living anywhere with anyone else.

Amy is a fantastic person. She is someone I can go to at any time of night just "to talk" and I know she would never get mad. She could care less about the hour or the reason why and she doesn't do it to be polite. She cares about me and maintaining a constant stream of communication.

We're friends. It's not the same without her here. I know her cat Rudy agrees with me. Every night since she's been gone, I've heard a startling thump come from Amy's room. It finally dawned on me what it was--Rudy trying to jump through Amy's front window, only he met with glass instead of landing on Amy's mantel. When I walk out the door every morning, I meet Rudy there at my feet and he meows very loudly at me.

"What, Rudy?"

He meows again.

"Are you hungry?"

More meowing.

"What do you want?"

Meowing still.

"You miss Amy?"

Continues to voice his opinion.

"Yeah, me too."

I love painting.

I couldn't agree more.

I highly recommend reading Jets' post from today (October 12th). I thought it was very insightful and a well-constructed piece.

I love having friends who write.

I've been trying to think of something to write about. Perhaps something about my job. Or the dream I had last night. Maybe discuss some wonder of the world or ask a question that challenges my very existance.

But in all that time I was trying to think of something to write, this is all I could come up with.

A Tale by Carly Bishop

Creaking doors and broken boards, leading me across the shipdeck floor. Staring over the crooked edge, seeing nothing but ocean and a sandy deathbed. Wrists behind me, bound, I'm gagged. By the edge of his sword, I fear I'm had.

Found, was I, rummaging through the Captian's jewels and rubies too. Who was I but a passing mate? Such as that who steals and lies first rate. Blending in, shorter than most, soft-spoken, shy, and the cook's best host. Blind to those who did not care and those who did would not dare. For I was good and hired staff and those who questioned made others laugh.

But then, by chance, I was caught "with an arm-load of diamonds!" cried a mate, distraught. They hung me from my heels and stared as every precious thing fell and laid bare. All my goods fell from my pockets and the pirates' eyes bulged from their sockets. But low and behold, what they could not believe, what they saw, nor could they conceive. For once the sash fell from my head, I revealed lovely locks of crimson red.

Stroding up, the Captain grinned. He stroked my cheek and tapped my chin. "Well, who are you to give this crew such a whirl?"

"Aye, me, Captain. I am a girl."

I love fortunes. Especially those I get from fortune cookies and the caps from my Jones Soda bottles. The following is from a fortune cookie.

"A pleasant surprise is in store for you soon."

I've had this conversation with more than one person.

Person: "I was in a long distance relationship once."

Me: "Oh really?"

Person: "Yeah... Man, it had to be the hardest thing I have ever done."

Me: "I bet. That's gotta be a tough thing to do."

Person: "Oh yeah... Oh yeah... Never do it, Car. It's not worth it."

Me: "You don't think so? You don't think it's possible to have a good, long-distance relationship?"

Person: "I think it's rare. Almost miraculous."

Me: "Wow..."

Person: "I'll put it this way. Now that I've done it, I will never do it again for as long as I live."

Me: "Gotchya. Loud and clear."

I am presently in a long-distance relationship, and while I don't like it and wish like none other that Art was here, I'm perfectly content with the fact that he's not. I'm not restless or filled with longing. I miss him terribly, don't get me wrong. Still, the whole situation and the relationship itself feel fine as is.

Of course I look forward to when the only thing between us are a few city blocks and a street or two, but I don't mind waiting a long while for that to happen.

Maybe I'll be saying something different another two, maybe three months from now. Maybe I'll look back on this and say to myself, "How wrong I was! This is the worst!"

Maybe.

But in my heart, I don't think I will. Because honestly, if you knew the man like I do and understood exactly what who it is I've got... Man or woman would glady (happily, gleefully, joyfully, etc.) be in my position.

And that's all I have to say for now.

A whole new world (small, but still new) has been opened up to me through FictionMentor.com. By following their provided links, I found the beginning to a great short story, told by a brilliant voice.

Love Me
A short story

by Garrison Keillor

I took a train up to Halifax to write about Canada. I thought Canada would be good for me. Get me out of my slump, which had been going on for more than a year now. But it rained a lot for three days, and I wound up sitting in a bar and drinking Rusty Nails with a Canadian who had a grudge against the United States. I fell into bed like a boxful of hammers and woke up at noon with this great idea, and got on the train to go back to New York and sat in my compartment and wrote a gorgeous broadside against Our Neighbors to the North and said what every American has wanted to say for the past hundred years about Canadian independence—Oh, get off it—and in Portland, Maine, the train stopped and I got off and walked around and used the men's room in the depot and there, in the excitement of creation, I left the manuscript on a ledge next to the urinal and walked to the train and the conductor said, "How's that writing of yours coming along, young fella?" and I let out a yelp and dashed back to the men's room and it was empty. No manuscript. Nothing. I hustled around the waiting room looking in trash barrels. No luck. Finally the whistle blew, and I climbed on the train distraught and went to the club car and had a whiskey soda. First decent thing I write in a whole year and I leave it in the pissoir.

"Something wrong?" the bartender said. "You look down." So I told him.

"Well, that's a shame," he said, as if I'd lost an embroidered hanky or the sports section of the paper instead of a literary creation. A woman with red hair was sitting at the bar. She said, "Just sit down and write the story again. That's what Fitzgerald did when Zelda left the manuscript of The Great Gatsby on a train in Zurich. He sat down in a hotel room and wrote it again—and it turned out even better!"

I hate people who give you inspirational advice like that. I loathe them.

. . .

Go here to read the rest.

I swear I haven't painted this much in my whole life.

I'm having a blast.

Check it out.

My brother gave me permission to publish the conversation we just had. I love my brother and you should too.

masterbasser says:
When this guy, John found out I asked Alanna to [Homecoming], HE GOT PISSED

masterbasser says:
Because he likes her also. So! He writes a poem ...about me

carly says:
[shocked emoticon]

masterbasser says:
with a picture.... And I find it because he gave it to Alanna. And the poem was something like... well... I don't remember how it went. But the basic plot of it was that I put Alanna on the spot.

carly says:
So that she couldn't say no??

carly says:
Bah.

carly says:
Whatever.

masterbasser says:
i know

masterbasser says:
and it has a picture of me singing on my knees and a picture of Alanna pissed off with a rose.

carly says:
Sheesh. What a loser.

masterbasser says:
So I saw it and laughed hysterically

carly says:
Good!

masterbasser says:
I thought it was hilarious

carly says:
GOOD!!!

masterbasser says:
So in school you treat people the way you WANT to be treated. I took advantage of that

masterbasser says:
I got home today from Tech Ed. and got this brilliant idea. So!

carly says:
So???

masterbasser says:
John wrote a poem about me... I wrote a poem about John.

masterbasser says:
It goes a-like-a-dis-a...

masterbasser says:
"In return to John's clever poem
I thought I'd return the favor
Even though I don't even know'em
He brought me down
He's definitely better than me
Now I'm DEEPLY hurt
As you can no doubt see.
I'm sorry I offended you
By asking Alanna to Homecoming
So this is my apology
Maybe we could meet or something
Perhaps you won't like me
At first glance
But I have one more thing to say...

masterbasser says:
.................*drum roll*

masterbasser says:
GET OVER IT, PAL! IT'S JUST A FREAKIN' DANCE!!!!"

carly says:
. . .

carly says:
That was the best retaliation poem... ever.

masterbasser says:
LOL. And it has a picture above the text of him holding THIS poem, shocked and bewildered and Alanna standing next to him, all embarrassed to be around him.

carly says:
Well done. Bravo. You've made your sister proud.

masterbasser says:
I folded it like a present and it says in bubbly writing "To: John From: Your Friend" with a picture of a smiling bear with a heart on it's chest. Then on the back of it I drew a pic of myself saying, "Hi John." Then on the other folded side it has a pic of the bear again, only REALLY happy this time and it's saying, "I LOVE YOU TOO!" And then on the other folded side, it says, "A little about myself:"

masterbasser says:
-I'm 16
-I love to draw
-I love to play music
-I'd love to be friends, because your poem cracked me up.
-Don't take my poem personally
-That part wasn't about me
-Neither was that

carly says:
Really heaping those coals on him, eh bro??

masterbasser says:
then it says "the end" with a bunch of hearts around it.

carly says:
Wow... I'm impressed.

carly says:
You're giving this to him tomorrow?

masterbasser says:
yes

masterbasser says:
i'll scan and send it to you

Front Page and Drawings.
Poem and Picture.

I guess I should clarify and explain that Kyle asked this Alanna-girl to Homecoming by writing a song, getting a few of his friends together, and then singing it to her Barber Shop style. He even wrote two seperate endings to the song. One for if she said "no" and another if she said "yes." But honestly. What girl would say "no" to the most adorable blue-eyed hunk in school after he's given her a pink rose and followed it up with a serenade?

If this had happened while I was still in school, only she had said "no" instead of "yes," I would have gathered every other girl in school (whether they already had dates to the dance or not) and proceeded to beat her up.

But she said "yes." Therefore, I approve.

I actually have a few things up for sale on eBay now. In case you enjoy watching their progress, I've included the links to all four items presently available.

Fender Squier.
Seattle Girl Painting.
Colorful Landscape Painting.
Two Lovers Painting.

*FYI: The paintings are now located in the sidebar, in case you wanted to see better pictures of them.

Jets is back! Finally!!!

jetchick.blogspot.com