I have the lamest lunch today. PB&J, some cheese and bread and a nectarine. Oh and a banana for later and a snack pack popcorn on reserve if I’m starving.
I don’t know what I was thinking this morning. I almost took a sip of super cold coffee.
Who makes PB&J past the age of 12? Pat. And apparently me. And maybe my uncle steve. But he also wears velcro shoes – or used to. Hi Steve.
I think my relatives are the only people who read my blog. HI RELATIVES!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JULIE! They like to keep an eye on me, but only one and from a distance because I’m sure they want me to feel  independent and all adult and stuff.
Well, I’m still eating PB&Js and every time I make them I still sing the “PEANUT, PEANUT BUTTER *jazz hands* AND JELLY” song in my head.

I’ve been internet-stalking old friends from HS today. I’m not sure why. I think an old best friend is married. I saw one picture, her hair covering her face and she was dancing, I think it was her, the smile was the same. She looked beautiful and happy and I hope she is.
It was strange looking for and at all those old people. I thought I’d be farther along at 27 than I am. I know, I know – I’m where I’m supposed to be. The lesson for today: how to be OK with your plain life. Not everyone is living a bohemian life like you think their pictures say. They still have electric bills – unless they don’t use electricity… They still have phone bills – unless they don’t use phones… They still have gasoline expenses – unless they ride their bikes. Shit. Water bills? One girl I saw had chickens. Water bills for sure with chickens.
Today, I’m bouncing the ball at the wall – playing with myself (not like that – although maybe later – j/k sorry relatives.) and I really do feel quiet inside like I’m in a high-ceilinged room, the echos tap dancing and playing basketball.  I used to juggle a soccer ball 100 times or more without it dropping.

Lindsey emailed me today and reminded me of a time when she worked here and we had a designers meeting and I can’t remember what she was trying to say, but what she said instead was “cunt” in front of this really stuffy, brown imitation keds wearing, brown short, brown shirt, brown hair-wearing, buttoned-up M.O.M and I was sitting across from Lindsey trying my damnedest to play it off like she didn’t say it at all, but I couldn’t. HOW COULD I?! God, laughing when you’re not supposed to laugh is quite possibly the best feeling in the world – unless you’re at a funeral. But damn, it’s hard to stop.

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4 Responses to "PEANUT, PEANUT BUTTER *jazz hands* AND JELLY"

  1. Lindsey says:

    OBVIOUSLY, I was trying to say “continue” … but it came out wrong. HAHA. And if it wasn’t for PTAs Stuffy Mom of the Year 2002-2008, we would have all had a good laugh. lol. Nothing funnier than a little inappropriate language in the work place. Except maybe friending the owner of the company on Facebook … Embarrassing Mistake Number Two.

    Now go play with yourself, you bohemian chicken lover you.

    • rachvb says:


      Not only “friending” but SENDING the request itself. Congratulations.

      This last sentence frightens me.

  2. Please don’t let the torpor of this reader influence how you see yourself, your life or your blog. I think of you every day and just don’t always get here – or anywhere – and have no explanation. I haven’t anything as tasty and real as a peanut butter sandwich to write about (and we do still fix and eat them well past 12, or 52 or 62). There is still so much time for THE dream, for any dreams. Please be gentle and patient with yourself. xo

    • rachvb says:

      Thank you always, Marylinn, for your kindness. I have a bad habit of kicking the shit out of myself and am trying to learn to kick other things – maybe that’s why I loved soccer so much =)
      I’ve been struggling with my work and it seems as if nothing is coming together quite how I want it to or know it can be. these poems have been much more challenging than anything I’ve ever done before. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m pushing myself or they are pushing me?
      This seems to be a challenging time in my “career” and life. I’ll figure it out and chug along. This is the place where writers build their resolve, their “fuck you, I love my work” attitude and I don’t care if you don’t want it someone will. I need a sturdier base to leap from.
      Thank you for your support. It means the world.

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