Dear Blogosphere –

Dear Blogosphere,  

My friend Danique recommended blogging a few years back and I’ve been avoiding it. Its not that I’m a snob about blogging, really. I read several. But I’ve always been more of an intimate thinker, if you will. Preferring to keep my misguided ramblings safely tucked away in the confines of my gray matter, rather than “out there” for public scrutiny. Ironic, don’t you think? Considering I am an artist and the very nature of being such is that all of my spirit is poured out for public display? Hmm – note to self: reexamine thoughts on thoughts.

So, where to begin? I suppose at the beginning would be the most important place no?

I’m Chloe Jayne. Yes, that’s pronounced KLOEEE, with an umlaut over the E as opposed to one of those silly little apostrophes.  The story goes that my father was going to name me Lucille, after his favorite comedienne, Lucille Ball. Thank god my mother intervened. Its not that I think Lucille is an awful name, but, I’ve spent my life knowing that I’m much better suited to being a Chloe.

I live in a moderately sized loft, in Really Big City. I love it here. I’ve been here for 11 years now, after moving from a small, nearly abandoned ghost of a town in a rather backwards mid-western state. I was raised by my grandmother, who is now gone, rest her soul, who raised me from age 7 after my mother died. My father died from heart failure when I was three. I don’t remember him. I don’t remember either of them actually, except from stories that my grandmother would tell me on rare occassions.

I am the only child of an only child. And because of this, I am not really spoiled just very – set in my own quirky ways.

I guess if I had to sum up my personality in one phrase it would be this: I will be the girl in the hot orange teeshirt and camo pants at the black and white ball. Seriously, conformity frightens me! What are we? Cattle?

Needless to say that my free-spirited neuropath did not fit in well with small town rural life and I left as soon as I turned 18, only to revisit once, when Grams passed. I moved to Really Big City, where I attended Semi-Famous University to obtain my degree in Do You Want Fries With That with a minor in Yes Sir, I’ll File That Right Away.

After college-life in a rather raucous dorm, I moved into downtown and have been in this loft, with various roomates, for about 6 years now. I am currently roomateless, since my last roomie, Poindexter (not really his name – I mean c’mon, who’d name a kid Poindexter? Well, Okay, I might but…), married and moved to Suburbia.  And for the time being, I think I will avoid advertising for another room mate. I rather like the solitude – and being able to sleep naked. Isn’t naked just the most best ever?

I’m a neat freak who hunts dust bunnies as a hobby. I don’t like for my “me” time to be interupted so its not uncommon for me to unplug the telephone and avoid answering the door.

I work from my loft where I create whatever inspires me that day. Recycled tee’s, jewelry, bags, canvases, photographs. But because artists notoriously starve before they are famous, I work as a waitress at a well-known restaurant in the evenings. The pay sux but the tips are good and it affords me time to play. (Watch for a “Love Always, Chloe Jayne” shoppe on Etsy comming soon!) And what I make from my art, allows me to keep my job as a waitress, so it works out really nicely. 

I’ve been on the same job at the same restuarant since 2 days after college graduation. I am the oldest member of the staff. I should probably find that frightening, but I don’t. I’d hate to have to go through all the trouble of breaking in a new boss. Besides, being a senior staff member affords me things like being able to have weekends off, and bossing around New Bus Boy so I can watch him bend over and pick up things. He’s got a really cute ass, even if he is only 22.

I have a small, close-knit group of friends whom I’ve had since college.  Some are doing the married with children thing, some are doing the “find myself” thing, but we have enough things in common that we remain friends. I like that.  The familiarity of old friends.

I’m currently relationshipless. The last one ended disastrously with tears and begging and embarrassing stalker like phonecalls at 3:00 AM. It’s somehow deeply disturbing to see a grown man cry like that. But, he was set on marriage and I’m just not there. Actually, I don’t know that I ever will be and that’s okay, ya know? Who says every woman has to have the Dick and Jayne life? I like being able to do things like scratch my butt or fart without worrying that so and so will find me totally disgusting and dump me.

I tried to have a pet for a while, but couldn’t get attached to the mess involved. Seriously, everything sheds! Not to mention, they crave attention and well, I can be abit aloof at times. This is probably why I’ve decided not to have children. One cannot simply forget to feed a child.

I adore obscure music, weird movies, frozen hot chocolate on really cold days, and shoes. Especially pink shoes. Not just any pink though. That hot pink coloure that verges on the edge of being a really redish orange. I love to wake up on Saturday mornings, turn up the music, turn down the heat, splay canvas and paints across the floor and just have a dance-fest! (You’ll find as you read future posts that I have a seriously hot-blooded nature. I boil in any tempurature over 68 degrees. I think its my body revolting against my small mid-western upbringing in a state infamous for being entirely too humid. Seriously. I will be the girl in the park in January, wearing shorts in the snow.)

I have a pair of pink tennis-shoes that I bought shortly after arriving in Really Big City. I love them! My friend tells me I should throw them out, but why? They don’t smell. And they go perfecly with the pair of jeans I’ve had since Junior High School! They are all broken in and sort of grungy, with holes where the toes rub on the outside and they are the most comfortable shoes on the entire planet, barr none. I should know, I have about 150 pairs of shoes.  This is another reason I can’t be in a permanent relationship. There just isn’t enough closet space. Anywhere.

I am currently 29. I will turn 30 this year and have considered that at some point I should probably start acting my age – whatever it is that 30 acts like –  but seriously? I am a firm believer that there is a monumental difference between growing up and growing old. I just can’t see myself growing old.

So. This is me in a nutshell. In sorts.

Its Sunday morning and horrifically cold – the perfect time to stroll down to VERY BIG PARK and have a nice Iced Coffee in front of Equally Big Fountain.

Hope you enjoy your Sunday too!
Love Always,
Chloe Jayne
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