The Night of the Long Black Shorts and Death On Every Corner.

paranoia is a strange and beautiful thing. and i have been experiencing this phenomena quite a freakin bit lately. :(
it all started when my sweet Eden friend texted, called and called again at 5 in the morning to make sure i was still alive. imagine my confusion and eventual paranoia when she informed me that i will be murdered if i go running in skanky shorts because of a dream that she had.

i was like, k thanks eden. dont call me anymore.

but then, that night, as i lay a dreamin' in my bed, my pleasant visions of peanut butter faded into the worst nightmare of my existence. i'll spare you the disturbing details. but basically i died. like a lot. by gangsters. 6 of them.

ever since i've been on the look out for death. i wear long shorts and try to run really fast so i look really sweaty and no one would try to kill me cause they wouldnt want my sweat on them.
but yesterday was by far the scariest and mentally exhausting run of my life. it went like THIS.
(best if read like you're being really overdramatic at trying to tell the boogeyman a scary story)

it was a cold and foggy November evening. I began my journey from my safehouse and proceeded to run to my favorite fields. But this time, i chose to stay on the edge of the hill so that passerbys could see me if i was mauled. Later i would find out just how awesome that choice was...

Seconds later a truck full of guys slowed down and watches me. and i watch them. Awkwardly. While picking up pace in the opposite direction. i was like a hawk-panther. on the freakin lookout. planning my speedy and frantic escape from every possible angle. they pulled into a side road, just slightly hidden from my view and waited...
but my fear of death by males fueled my crazy and ungraceful flee down the street. and i won cause i didnt see them again. (they were probably intimidated by my long shorts and sweat)
and i went foolishly along...
i passed by a multitude of shady things. a parked car with tinted windows, a dark house, trashcans by the tens.
but i went along, challenging my potential demise at every turn.
 then the hardcore athlete in me was like, "hey i have an idea. lets switch things up. lets go up that really big hill and take a spin by the apartments. the welfare apartments. like a boss."
k really? who do i think i am?
and i listened to hardcore athlete Jenna.
in the next approximately 6 minutes i encountered...
1) a hobo with like 4 trash sacks full of unidentified items. (probably human based)
2) a really old dude who looked like santa clause in a clever and sporty sweatsuit of death
3) a homeboy. smoking. who knows what.
4) a man walking in a terrible orange sweater who really liked to switch sides of the road unannounced.
and just as i was about to start crying out of sheer terror and paranoia, a small black man in a large black truck beeped at me. and all hell broke loose.

picture a 2 yr old baby. right after you have popped out of a corner and yelled something (probably boo) really loud. their eyes full of questions and extreme terror...their mouth twisted and contorted into a pre-cry frown of defeat and sadness...their hands instictively covering their small, cold ears. that was me. literally on the side of the road. imploding into the realization that my long shorts and sweat theory didnt work. and i in fact looked really ghetto fabulous and hot. :( it was a weak moment. and i realized that no one was safe now.

at that point it was another 2 miles back. my goal in that moment and probably life was to get home unmurdered. so i did. i fought off every stare, every animal and every trashcan that got in my way. and as i was running i realized something...

in near death experiences, it is said that one undergoes a small internal playback of their life up to that point. but i learned that i am different. i undergo a large internal playfront in which i see images of my potential future. graduating, moving away, dating, marrying, kids and so on. i think this was a gift from my brain. because it was the exact thing i needed to motivate my body to get me home quickly..

so yes. moral of the story: jenna looks hot even when she doesnt try. and dont go running in my neighborhood. its not for the weak at heart.

get errr done.

well first of all i feel like i owe my avid readers the sincerest of apologies. i havent posted anything of worth since forever and a half ago so therefore you all have permission to come to my house and kick me in the face.



BRING IT.

 its kinda sad cause i didnt even remember my username.

good thing someone, somewhere decided that computers should have a "remember me" option so that its not only tearjerkingly easy to log in but also signifcantly easier to hack into peoples facebooks that have been on your computer...

but anyways. i am just sitting here trying to do things.. like homework and not eating peanut butter.

you know whats lame but just gave me a really good idea for a topic of blogging? To do lists.

TO DO LISTS AND ME.

to do lists and me go together like peanut butter, jelly and honey. sometimes a bite will be like, " awww, jelly :))" and other times itll be like, "omg, honey is there too."

but really i dont know how that last part happened. i just really want peanut butter...

anyways. for me, writing to do lists is never ever successful. it happens like this:

a miniscule shred of well-placed unorganized thought will enter my mind. and it will sit there and fester until i get frantic with unorganization and my mind goes, "...pstttt! jenna? write a friggin to do list. get it all out. you'll feel like a winner"

determined, i go for writing utensils and success. this time will be different.

i get paper and title it the ever cliche name for to do lists...." TO DO LIST" and my pen starts a flyin.

as i get through more and more things that i need to do, "clean my room, wash my car, do my homework..." i start to get really discouraged. :( and im like man, i have so many things to do.

so i start to play tricks on my mind. i try to outsmart my own conscience. i begin writing things that are so easy, even a mentally handicapped caveman could do it. "draw a star on this to do list, clip my fingernails, draw a whole GALAXY, get the mail, eat some peanut butter."

and then. it feels so awesome that i start subconciously writing things that ive already done.

" get out of bed, check facebook for the 5849037689357834th time today, brush teeth, text some people, BE AWESOME!"

i tell myself, jenna...you have done so much today. you deserve a break, champ.

and that people, is called the beautiful combination of busy, lazy, organized and procatination that is Jenna Grace Ricks.