jeffrey + upstairsloft

Thankfully, many of the textbooks for my classes are books I’d buy at Borders or Amazon if I had money; thankfully I owned a book before I even had classes just because it was a good read for graphic designers which saves me some money. However… supplies cost a lot. Oddly enough, my 2 most expensive classes are photography and drawing. Photography, of course, I am familiar with, but drawing…damn I suck. I mean, give your little sibling a pen and paper and let them doodle. That’s my kind of work. But of course, I will progress. I better progress.

There’s no fighting PMS. God, help me. Anyhow, in good news, retractable highlighters were invented. Thank you. I am a proud owner of the blue and orange ones.

WHAAAAAAAAAATTUP K.

It’s so weird to know that everybody around me in a class are aspiring graphic designers. First day in school was a FREAKIN blast. I had a flood of thoughts just rushing to be translated into words but by the end of the day I was too tired to tell Kate. We woke up at 8am, left at 9, got out of school at 6.

Visual Basics, photography, digital design, graphic design and drawing.

There is a girl in my visual basics class whose dad invented the phrase “couch potato.” No matter how stressful school gets, I’m in a major where the amount of hard work you put into a project counts.

It’s always like 2 filipino kids reenacting a Barber Shop scene when I’m cutting Jun’s hair–the stupid truths we speak of. I’ve cut many heads since middle school but nothing beats the stuff Jun and I talk about, because it isn’t a forced conversation and it’s a moment for two best friends to actually talk about real stuff, aside their crazy and embarassing antics they display in public. It’s taking two crazy and hyper ass kids and putting them in a room to talk–especially at this rapid pace of growth we’re experiencing, with this whole college thing taking place. Life is good when all bullshit is set aside. Jeffrey, stay leveled dammit.

Brazil’s Lima was robbed in the Olympic Marathon race. Some idiot dressed in a kilt pushed Lima into the crowd’s security rail, ruining his momentum and adding onto his mental exhaustion. He had first. He took bronze. That idiot dressed in a kilt needs to be fed his weiner after being castrated.

Money ruins people, places, things…too much money, not so much money, no money…currency governs our souls. But above all that, the fuck if money ruins other people’s lives…it’s ruining my fucking relationship. I am a ticking time bomb, not of anger, but of a path of self–, self–, self– and just everything and anything relevant to ME, me and ME! I am wading in the water waiting for the next ship to come by so I can devastate people’s lives. Problem is…I don’t have any ideas. As destructive and I want to become, I just don’t have any good fucking ideas. It’s gotta be creative, something that’ll teach a lesson and inspire people with a similar mental pattern to study my work. What kind of lesson? Who knows. Searching how to make a homemade bomb doesn’t constitute as creativity. John Doe was a pretty clever guy, but that’s a movie, a reciprocation of already used ideas. God, help me.

And stop pre-approving me for credit cards. My name isn’t even Jefferina Reyes! Sickasses.

I hate the phrase, "We are fully staffed but we are always accepting
applications." I wasted my handwriting on 3 applications that went to the same
company that are less than 4 miles apart, each. My fuckin recycling bin is full
but it’s always accepting scraps of paper.

I know, I know, I get the feeling that they ALWAYS have to say that, but damn,
what a cocktease of hope that the application is used for more than a coaster to
hold your godforsaken Starbucks Grande Mocha Frappuccino Latte Espresso
Cappuccino
with a hint of caramel and hazelnut. Did I mention I want it blended?

Give it to me straight.  "We’ll call you back…,"  "We’ll get back to
you on that," or the "Give us a call if we don’t call you."  Just tell me
to my face that you’d rather hire 3 ex-convicts on parole with a more open
availability than to hire a proficiently task-managed, well-balanced,
non-convicted, well-mannered guy who can’t work two days of the week. 
Three days later…you call them back and they tell you "The position’s taken."

Yeah…thanks for the call.  I do my deed to apply and provide willingness
to work for a company and I show dedication into providing evidence that I will
do my job as they describe, but I can’t even get a less-than-one minute phone
call to tell me the position has been taken.  I should be immune to this
and just mope in utter despair when they tell me they’ll call me back.

If 30 people apply, 15-20 are told that they are not qualified for the position. 
10-15 people are told to expect a phone call.  Ehhh…never mind…plain
and simply… STICK TO YOUR WORD or don’t say it at all.

The moment I adapt to what life may be like with school, minus going to school, I go on vacation for a week, not having been to the Sac place in almost a month, and I start school on Monday. As excited as I am to begin this illustrious adventure of higher education…well…I can’t sleep early!

3am feels like 11pm. Maybe this is a good thing. Kate and I are in the company of my cousin, Abby, and we’re having too much time living an ideal summer week. Meaning, we just stay here, watch tv, eat, talk loud, make jokes, sometimes leave, come back and continue being loud and obnoxious and we’re having a blast doing it. It’s like a slumber party without the extremely girly stuff.

Summer started early and slow but it’s coming down fast and hard. HUGE withdrawal coming soon.

Why blog? 
Kate and Jun
did.

In response to
Kate’s entry, you’re a psycho-freak weird for riding in my trunk. 
Abigail, you’re freakin dope ’cause not many people can witness any more than an
exchange of disagreements and not intervene or hold themselves back from
speaking about it like they saw a tomato-apple.

People act like our fighting is a common occurrence, as opposed to the people I
know who did or do fight every damn day over the stupidest things, whereas Kate
and I fight over the stupidest things every month or two.  Take it or leave
it.  Kaye, Jun and Abigail, a rarity in these situations, just let it
slide.

As for the other, they aren’t used to us or just don’t have the damn patience to
let 5-10 minutes cool us off, who add more fuel to the flame because they JUST
have to add their two cents in about me and Kate fighting, when really, the only
problem they have is a problem with themselves because they lack patience in
general.

If it is not okay for people to cool off after a measly quarrel, please, by all
means, recircumcise me over and over again until I have nothing but a hole for
your dog to dig its bone in.  As for the yelling…I yell for no particular
reason; Kate does absurd things for no reason.  Even my parents have this
"You’re fucking strange" look on their face when they witness our antics…so? 
No doubt about it, we’ll kick, yell and scream when we fight; what the hell do
you expect?  We’re a bit more flamboyant with our emotions.

Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a
hoe.