I’m feeling mopey.  Follow me on twitter:



Is my future in the adult film industry?

So as I mentioned in my recent life update, I’ve sped some things up to graduate earlier.  I can’t even tell you how badly I need to get out of academia.  My hair is literally falling out from the stress.

That said, graduation seems like this foggy, allusive goal I’m never going to reach.  Thinking about it is like trying to imagine nothingness.  (Was I the only one who did that as a kid?) I have to concentrate really hard and I feel just the slightest excitement before it slips through my fingers.  I’m probably also terrified but the fears are shapeless.

My brain isn’t having a problem articulating though. I have been having some really interesting dreams lately.  Even for me, and I have some crazy-ass dreams:

-About a month ago I had a dream that I decided to make porn.  And apparently dream-Jane was totally cool and calm about it. I was going to be filming in a van with some guy.  But my mind censored it like a movie.  One second I’m crawling into this van, and the next second its over and I’m climbing out.  Weird.  But then while I’m walking home, I get a phone call.  Its the porn people telling me that I forgot my pet possum in the van.  Why I brought a possum I don’t know but dream-Jane acted like nothing was out of the ordinary.  Sure enough when I got back there, I saw a little possum inside waiting for me.  The dream faded as I walked home carrying it.

-A couple weeks ago I had a dream that I was sent back to the 7th grade.  And once again in my dream this was all standard.  I was sitting in a bathroom stall in my old elementary school in my old uniform cursing myself for doing so badly in college that I got sent back.  Long story short, I walk around the school until someone invites me to go to the kitchen to “watch the ladies who make the cheese”.  I went through this weird Alice in Wonderland kind of door, down a staircase, and there they were.  They even asked me if I wanted to learn how to do it.

-And just the other night I had another porn dream.  This time my mother drove me and we sat in what seemed like a doctor’s office.  A regular middle-aged receptionist then called me up, took the palm of my hand and scanned it.  Dream-Jane knew that the porn company inserted a chip in there.  I then checked a schedule which had my name listed across some guy’s, entered a locker room and that was it.

So what do you guys think of these new career choices?  Porn star? Or cheese maker?

Life Update

So, I dropped off the face of the earth as you may (or may not) have noticed.

Its the same old story, I freaked out about school, spent a couple weeks in bed, and am now struggling to finish the semester.

But things are looking up at the moment.  I still have some papers to write but it all seems doable.  I’ve also made some solid plans for the future.  I’ve dropped my English major (I’m now an Italian major with an English minor) to graduate sooner.   Assuming I’ve calculated correctly, I should be done with school by this summer.  One more thing that didn’t go according to plan right?

On a happier note, I hosted my first Thanksgiving.  I cooked and baked absolutely everything; I didn’t allow anyone to help.  And I pulled it off, at only 21 I might add.

I’ve also been doing a lot of reading lately, which I don’t usually get to do.  I finished “Room” by Emma Donoghue a few weeks ago, “The Light Between Oceans” by M. L. Stedman about a week later, and I’m now finishing up “The Little Friend” by Donna Tartt.  I might do some book reviews once I’m done with all my work.

I’m hoping you guys will be seeing more of me.  Bye for now.


To Tweet or Not to Tweet

I’m alive, but just barely.  I want to apologize for going MIA (as per usual) but I’ve been pretty bad lately.  The semester is coming to a close and I’m just trying to scrape by with the bare minimum.  This isn’t even a proper post but I just felt like I had to reach out and say something or I’m going to explode.

I also have been toying with an idea which I wanted to run past you guys (and by “you guys” I mean whoever happens to stumble across my blog).  I’m thinking twitter might come in handy for times like this, when I don’t have the time or nerves to write a post.  Would I be a total hypocrite?

Please let me know what you think.

I Want To Be Sick

I’m sure this post will disturb (or offend) some of you.  To be honest I’ve never written this or said it out loud because it disturbs me but:

I find something very attractive about being sick.

Maybe it’s because my grandmother had Munchausen and I take after her?  Or maybe I’ve had very good experiences when I was ill?  As a kid it usually meant being babied, waited on, tv, etc.

When I got older, it became an escape.  I quickly realized (by the 7th grade if not earlier) that being sick put an end to all my stress.  It was an excuse no one could argue with.  If I was sick I couldn’t possibly do the hours of homework I’d been assigned right?

But its more than that.  At my most depressed, I would long to be in a hospital, to have an excuse to sleep.  I’ve wished I could be diagnosed with some horrible illness.  It would be easier for people to understand at least.

Maybe it’s because being sick is incredibly “in” at the moment?  Try naming a romance where the heroine doesn’t have cancer.  Or a teen soap where we shouldn’t sympathize with the sick kid.  Not to mention all the charities, inspirational videos and other miscellaneous crap that litters our news feeds.

I can’t be the only one feeling this way?

Therapy session and a New Diagnosis

As I’d mentioned a couple of posts ago, my mother has been concerned about me lately.  Not to fling diagnoses around, but she believes I’m suffering from some sort of PTSD as a result of the Gil incident.   I don’t necessarily disagree so I made an appointment with my therapist (whom I hadn’t seen in a while).

I relayed the whole story to him with little emotion.  I mentioned my anxiety, insomnia, and that weird moment where Gil crossed my mind out of the blue.  (Apparently that is considered a flashback.) I answered all his questions without shedding a tear until:

“Have you been unusually angry lately?”

“Yes, actually.”


I then sheepishly told him about my road rage, which admittedly is nothing new.   He was surprised, as everyone always is. I certainly don’t seem the type.  He then asked me when this particularly bad instance of road rage happened.

That was when the tears started.

I couldn’t for the life of me remember.  And I remember everything.

I couldn’t remember what day or where I was or what the driver did that annoyed me.

It terrified me.

Our session was enough for him to diagnose me as suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Reaction.

Pile that on top of all the other stuff thats wrong with me.

Honesty Hour

Today I was in the car with my mother, drinking coffee, when she turned to me and asked:

“What did you get in your summer classes in Italy?”

Now I’m sure this is a normal question for most parents to ask their children.  But since my second year at college my mother made it a point to stop asking.  She also forbade my father from doing so.

I responded honestly.

“I got an A in one course and Incomplete in the other which I’m now taking care of.”

She was very happy and was planning on telling my father as soon as she got home.  But she then took a small inhale and was silent.  That usually means she has more to say.

“What is it?”

“Have you gotten a lot of D’s, Jane? I’m worried, I have to ask.”

I turned to face her and realized I had to tell the truth.

“I’ll be honest with you, Mom.  I haven’t gotten any D’s…but I have been racking up the Incompletes.”

She seemed relieved.  And I began to feel guilty immediately.  I’d allowed her to worry without reassuring her, knowing full well everything she else she has to deal with.

“How long do you have to complete them?”

I tried to sound confident when the truth is I have no idea.

“Well, you know, they can change a grade at any point while you’re at school”.

I try not to focus too much on this point but the fact is that I don’t know my deadlines. And I’m too scared to ask.  Maybe its just a matter of when a professor loses patience with me?  I don’t know.  I’m planning on finishing at least one course during winter break and the rest during summer.  But as always, we’ll see.