Oh Guy Fieri.

Recently I've been watching a lot of Guy's Grocery Games. It was discovered one hungover Sunday, and now I can't control it. Guy Fieri curse you and your addictive, three lettered, hunger inspiring tales. 

"Sorry I really can't stay long I have plans..." I exclaim mysteriously as my friends accuse me of some torrid affair....little do they know...JT +GF= 4EVA.

It's a really horrible addiction I'm forced to balance with my overcrowded work schedule, obsessive friends and strong desire to spend hours looking at puppies online...

It's a really hectic schedule, made only increasingly more difficult by the fact that I'm aging rapidly (it's my birthday next week....so about those puppies...I like Great Danes...) and can no longer fight off sickness, hangovers or sleep deprivation like I used to. Which results in plenty of painful mornings and....well....these kind of texts...

Old age isn't cute.

Oh and how is the cooking going I hear you ask?

Let's just not talk about it...

Different, yet exactly the same.

(In honor of being 12)

2005

When a cranky eight year old Jordyn used to complain about being so tiny, she was told to not be sad at what she was because time would go so quickly. Two blinks later she would be all grown up.

A few weeks ago I gathered with some of my longest friends. It's an odd statement to make, because I could of sworn it was just yesterday we were introduced, yet here we were ten blinks later. We used to spend every day together, just silly 11 year olds who spoke with the voice of false experience. We had our snow globe life completely figured out, before swiftly throwing it up into the air and having it come down with a crack.

We all left that snow globe; leaking out in different directions, towards different cities and down different paths. Months upon months would swirl by in our new worlds but every year we would make it a mission to reassemble in one form or another. 

This time it was different.

We weren't simply hanging out to reminisce and reconnect, we were gathering at the beginning stages of each others next step. To celebrate graduation and change, we were linking arms to pull each other on to our next chapters.

Moving abroad or across the country, going to law school, or jumping feet first into a bonafide big girl career in the big city...we were all taking steps towards our next phase. 

As I drove away that day, slightly (very...) pink from the sun and full of happy memory, I thought of those little girls we once were, bigger than our boots and over confident on life, speaking of the future as if it was forever away.  Now we were so much different, yet exactly the same. Those same young girls but now we had confidence by the hands of experience, closeness by the hands of the past and opportunity by the hands of all we were. 

and I can't wait to see what comes next.

Back on the wagon.

Not dead.

So for some odd reason toady saw an influx of traffic to this little site of mine and I thought I ought to let it shine. It's been four whole months since my last post so I'm not entirely sure why yesterday caused so many of you to stop by, and in all actuality it could have been my Mum simply refreshing the page a million times, who really knows.

But alas, I felt the need to update.

Once upon a time my biggest struggle in life was finding the perfect balance between staying out until 4am, while at the same time being able to make it through the work week. I was young, I was fun, I was exhausted. I've now traded in those struggles. My 7 day a week party schedule has traded to that of 2 at most, and now my biggest struggle is teaching myself how to freaking cook. Still young, not fun, more exhausted.

What I have learned so far is that cooking is hard and adulthood is a myth.

So yes, this is why I haven't been writing. I've been too busy setting off my smoke alarm and eating really awful sweet potatoes.

I'll try and do better.

#Iusedtobefun

Anywhere else you could possibly go after New York would be, a pleasure cruise.

It's 3:05am on a Friday night and I'm laying in my bed...alone...pondering.

I've lived in New York for years now, and that alone is very hard to comprehend.

What happened to 2011?

Most of my time here was a blur.

A blur of alcohol and nights. I spent months dedicated to different people, yet in reflection they seem no longer than the blink of an eye.

New York is weird....or at least my New York is weird.

Being here doesn't feel like life.

My day to day doesn't exist.

Living here is like fake living, and the days seem to pass much quicker.

You don't have time to be, because you are always going with no end goal.

When I first moved here I worked nights, and followed up all shifts with alcohol.

I don't think I even saw daylight for months on end.

New York broke me in a way.

Many ways.

I've reached a point now where I am unhappy surrounded by it.

Unhappy with the same people, places and things, always, everywhere.

So I avoid being surrounded by it.

Today I woke up at 10am and forced myself to go back to sleep so I would have less time to kill.

That isn't living.

In the past these feelings would force me into a relationship.

Another way to kill some time.

Killing time so one day I can wake up at 52, wondering where all my years went.

The truth is, I'm full of talk.

One minutes I'm moving to California.

The next I'm going home to Australia.

A few more fleeting moments and I'm back in New York forever.

Last year I went home to visit my Mum 4 months in a row to get away from this place.

And I cried every night before I had to return.

I'm unhappy and anxious here....always.

Which is why I'm leaving.

The how doesn't even matter.

Simply the where.

So bring me a map on a cork board and a lucky dart and I'll figure the rest out later.

Write a letter that you will never send.

Wednesdays.

WhAt Is A bLoG?

 Everybody and their mothers has been messaging me today about plans for tonight...like who hurt these people? Do they not know it is freezing outside? Stay indoors, read a book.

I think maybe I've been doing too much of that considering I'm drawing a blank as to what is actually been going on...I mean Valentines happened. I spent majority of the day standing outside of a Methadone clinic in the snow handing out Valentines to strangers, not even the cute European tourist who offered me a kiss could make that task even remotely pleasant.

 I then made my day even worse by hanging out with a rapper...not my rapping ex....or the rapper I hung out with to make said rapping ex mad.....a different rapper....as someone who doesn't believe in having a "type" I'm starting to really eat my own words...

(Just kidding...unless Harry Styles becomes a rapper...in that case, yes rappers are my type)

(Say rapper one more time, idiot)

But hey, it wasn't all negative!

As a pre-diagnosed cold hearted asshole, I'm not big on the love....but I fuck with the candy and cupcakes involved...(also, did you know there is now a #love sweetheart? like what kind of 21st century tomfoolery is this? dumb.)

I've come to realize I've now lost all blogging ability...

I simply ramble some words, chuck in a few ill placed and often exaggerated ellipsis, litter it with a few awful pictures I randomly found in the black hole of my iPhone camera and call it a blog.

I've lost my touch.

RIP me.