Jenna's House of Idiosyncrasies Version 10.0 [Focus.]

him: “I'm really my mother trapped in my body.”

me: “You know, it's a little awkward for me if I spend all this time flirting with you and you are actually a woman.”

him: “There's nothing wrong with a little girl-on-girl action!”

Today was strange and fun and weird and fantastic and stressful and long.

My boss, after talking to me about scheduling, was walking away and turned back for a moment just to say, “Good work today, by the way.”

“Thank you!”

I suddenly realized I was glowing. A little hard-earned praise goes such a long way with me for some reason.

I think I like the attention.

I stayed at work pretty late today, finishing some things up, and walked home in the cool night with my headphones on. I tend to complain a lot, but it was actually pretty wonderful.

It's the simple things sometimes.

Neil
     [17:19] anytime.

Jenna
     [17:20] it's funny that I know you are serious because you used punctuation
     [17:20] if you had said
     anytime
     instead of
     anytime.
     I might not believe you
     [17:21] so... my brain works in weird ways

Neil
     [17:24] it means a slight hint of blunt, like anytime, bam. but not too strong, cause that would need an exclamation point and change the context.

Jenna
     [17:24] indeed

Neil
     [17:25] indeed.

Jenna
     [17:25] see! it just looks more serious.
     [17:25] maybe more sincere

Neil
     [17:25] i put more effort into it

Jenna
     [17:25] aha!

Neil
     [17:25] that pinky move is quite difficult.
     [17:26] im sacrificing my pinky for you.
     [17:26] with authority i press thy pinky done.

Jenna
     [17:26] I appreciate it.
     [17:27] Also, you hit that with your pinky?
     [17:27] my pinky does like almost nothing in the whole keyboarding thing

Neil
     [17:27] yeah! how do you do it? wierd...
     [17:27] ring finger.. ackward..
     [17:27] ah

Jenna
     [17:28] my second finger

Neil
     [17:28] i see you trying
     [17:28] ehhe

Jenna
     [17:28] whichever one that is

Neil
     [17:28] ringfinger?
     [17:28] so wierd
     [17:28] .
     [17:28] ah

Jenna
     [17:28] no the other one

Neil
     [17:28] it hurts
     [17:28] stop it
     [17:28] middle?

Jenna
     [17:28] yes!
     [17:28] middle

Neil
     [17:28] impossible
     [17:28] that is impossible move.

Jenna
     [17:28] no! possible
     [17:30] totally. possible.
     [17:30] of course I think the way I type results in lots of typos

Neil
     [17:30] you've just become, the craziest chick i know.

Jenna
     [17:30] AWESOME
     [17:30] TOTALLY AWESOME

Neil
     [17:33] i am in awe

Last Thursday night I went to see Will Hoge play at Tastyworld. He played everything I wanted to hear. I danced a lot, and sang along at the appropriate parts. I got drunk. Really, really drunk. I officially introduced myself to the Tastyworld bartenders, even though they have known my face and my drink for quite a while now. Julie and Jason both praised me at different times for being such a wonderful, easy to deal with customer. I felt special.

Talking to Will after the show I felt like a not-so-responsible music geek, because I had to inquire into the interludes/breakdowns during “Sweet Magdeline”.

“Led Zeppelin — ‘How Many More Times’, and the Beatles — ‘Helter Skelter’.”

“Led Zeppelin.”

“Yes — I'll tell you what you do. You go out, you buy Zeppelin I and II.”

“I and II. You know, I have IV.”

“No no no — by IV, they were into to much of that devil shit. This is pure solid rock n roll. So, you listen for about 2 weeks.”

“2 weeks.”

“That's about how long it really takes. Then you go out and buy a DVD called How the West Was Won. You'll love it. Then email me and tell me how it changed your life, because it will change your life.”

“It'll change my life.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“I have to tell you, I got into Otis Redding a few years ago because of how much you talked about him.”

“See, I've never led you astray.”

“Never.”

I did the fangirl thing, waiting outside in the back while those chuckleheads loaded their gear, and then ended up at IHOP with Will, his new tour manager Russell, and four random girls. We entertained the waitresses. I annoyed everyone with the drunken laughing and carrying on.

I got home at about 5:30 am. I don't remember falling asleep, but I do remember waking up to my alarm, still drunk, feeling like I hadn't slept at all, abso-fucking-lutely amazed it was 8 am already. I seriously could not believe it. I was sure there was some malfunction on my alarm clock, and I checked it against my cell phone. Unbelievable! I thought. Did I even sleep?

I went to class and sat there for about 20 minutes, staring at the slides, hearing the teacher, before I realized that my drunkness was quickly turning into a hangover and I didn't know what the hell was going on in the class itself. I got up, out, and walked to work in the bright morning.

The first couple of hours at work seemed to take My Entire Life. At one point I realized I had been staring at my monitor for 15 minutes, mouth slightly agape, eyes glossed over. I clocked out, went home, and took a nap for lunch.

That night I went to bed just after 10 pm, and slept til noon the next day. I got up and padded around the house in my pjs, made food, and contemplated traveling to Smith's to see Will Hoge. Yes, again. The kicker was when Tessa posted in her livejournal that she had a plus one that someone could take advantage of. I called her up, and I had a free ticket that I couldn't back out of. It was etched in stone.

With that decision made, I drove into Atlanta, by myself, for the first time ever. I got all the way to Smith's without getting lost and without getting freaked out by traffic on 85 (although I did nearly get slammed into by a little white muscle car trying to get into my lane on the right and totally not paying attention to where his rear end was, but I honked at his stupid ass and he backed off).

Will Hoge rocked so hardcore. I almost died when he broke out a Will classic interlude, “Let's Get It On”, during “Sweet Magdeline”, which I'm pretty sure was a surprise to everyone in the room, including the rest of the band. That transported me back to the best part of being 18. The only thing more magical was when the band left the stage, and when the crowd called for a encore, Jeff, the keyboard player, came up by himself, and started playing “Carousel”. The house lights came up, and Will appeared from nowhere in the back of the room and sang the whole song sans-microphone. It was even magic when he realized he had the wrong harmonica and hollered at their old manager, Cliffy, to bring him the correct one.

Will, smiling, “I know this is very awkward, but I promise I'll make it up to ya.”

They closed out the show with a bang, and afterward everyone milled about in typical fankid fashion, until they kicked us out on the street, where Will hung out and took pictures and warned people before hugging him that he was ridiculously sweaty. That's what you get from rocking out so hard.

I hung around long enough to realize I was way tired, and starving, and essentially by myself in Atlanta. It was time to go home. I left Smith's an exactly 3:30, and pulled up in front of my apartment at exactly 4:30. You might say I made excellent time.

I passed out in my bed at about 5:30 am, after having some eats and talking briefly to a half-awake Abie. I slept for about 12 hours. I got up and did typical Sunday things: cut coupons, watched movies, annoyed my roommates with my total inability to self-schedule at all. I then doped myself up and went back to sleep around midnight.

What do I love? Feeling really rested, and ready to rock n roll again.

Hi Jenna
Your Personal expected death date is 06 March 2062
You have 20983 days to live.
Have a nice day.

Today, I would like to just disappear completely.

Today I woke up two minutes before my alarm would have gone off at 8:00 am. I pulled myself out of bed in the darkness, stumbled down my ladder and got into the shower.

It didn't occur to me until the second “Lather, rinse.” that Abie would get up in a moment and begin yelling up to my empty bed.

“I'm awake. Isn't this cool?”

“Did you not sleep?”

“No way, man. I totally went to bed at 1:00.”

“Seriously? I thought you were going to stay up all night.”

We went to class, and had a weird and confusing review session for the test on Wednesday. I have no idea what the hell is going to be on this test, like whoa.

Afterwards, as per usual, I walked to work. I ran into Neil (works with me, previously mentioned in one way or another, total sweetie) in front of the chapel, and he was, as per usual, far too cheery for not even 10 am. He has these crazy orange mirror sunglasses that for some reason make him look both happy and really awake, and in combination with this amazing smile he always keeps on, seeing him for 15 seconds made me feel happy and awake, even pre-coffee.

So I went into work ready to kick ass, and my Web Account Manager, Phillips, expressed genuine happiness at my being back.

“I'll tell you what—you sure make my job a hell of a lot easier.”

“Are you serious?”

“Damn right.”

I go to my desk, and a completely random plush dog toy is sitting next to my phone.

“Can someone explain this to me?”

Everyone refuses, telling me that I'll just have to talk to Chris Brown.

The dog is a puppet. You stick your hand in the back, move it's mouth, and it barks the tune of “London Bridges” in time with your movement.

I am so not kidding about this.

Eventually, I get out of somebody that sometime last week (while I was out sick), CB was approached on the street by a woman trying to sell him kitchen knives.

Yes, kitchen knives.

Finding he had no use for kitchen knives, she randomly pulls out four of these dogs (brand new in original poly bags, I assure you) and offers to sell him the set for $10.

Here's the crazy part, kids: he buys these crazy-ass dogs off the strange woman. He gifted one to Neil, one to Bobby, one to me, and kept one for himself. We have jested that the four of us are obviously now a clique.

A clique with the incredible power of annoying coworkers beyond belief... with plush dogs. Sounds like something you'd like to be a part of, right?

I thought so.

Right before I clocked out for lunch (lunch consisting of sitting in the tire place, more on that later), Neil comes in, finds the mix CD I made him sitting on his desk, and proceeds to give me one of the most zealous reactions I have ever received for any gift.

“What is this?!? This is so cool!!! New music!”

Overwhelmed with the enthusiasm, I left, bound for Snow Tire Company on Hancock. I had chosen Snow Tire based on some glowing recommendations, and the fact that it's location made the whole ordeal something I could get taken care of on my lunch break.

I go in, tell the guy that if possible, I would like to have my tire repaired rather than replaced, but I would defer to their judgement on that. I sat in the waiting room for about 30 to 40 minutes, mostly staring into space thinking, sometimes looking through the plate glass to see what they were doing to Russo (which was a lot), and halfway watching an auto race playing on the tv. It was about twenty minutes into the staring/observing/not really watching body of activity that I realized I was watching a low-rider truck race, which I didn't even know really went on, let alone was televised with real announcers doing play-by-play and commentary. This is officially the most white trash “sport” I have ever come across, and that includes cow tippin.

The guy comes back in and motions to me. I get up and follow him to the counter. “You're done. It's going to come to a dollar fifty. ”

“Are you serious?”

“Your stem valve was busted, we replaced it. That was all that was wrong with it.”

“Wow. That. Is Awesome.”

No labor, no charging me for the air they put in the tires, no bogus administrative charges, just a $1.61, with tax.

Holy beejesus.

The rest of the workday flew by like nothing. I went home, made dinner, and went grocery shopping. A series of awfully mundane activities, but there are some things that just have to be taken care of.

I went out at about 10:30 to study in 24-hour coffee shop on Washington known as Hot Corner. While I must express my new love for this place—which is warm and inviting and not pretentious at all in the different but equal ways that Blue Sky, Starbucks and Espresso Royale all are—I should totally make sure to wear headphones next time. I had to fore go music this go round because my CD player was non-charged, and as a result got fuckall done, although I did draw a little, and get to eavesdrop on some rather hilarious conversation.

“I really resent it when people tell me I look like Jason Schwartzman.”

“He's not a bad actor.”

“He's not a great actor.”

“He has redeeming qualities.”

(Said with some obvious, self-effacing irony) “My mom says I look like George Clooney, but better.”

J: “I hate tomatoes.”
W: “Really? I hate tomatoes too but I like ketchup.”
J: “You people that only like one or the other are the real weirdos.”
W: “Ketchup and tomatoes are not the same.”
J: “I hate all things tomato-e. They are both in the tomato family.”
W: “But you can like one and not the other. It's like liking steaks but not—”
J: “—Hamburgers?”
W: “—no—like a steak all mashed up and ground into a paste. Like a steak shake.”
J: “There's no such thing.”
W: “Because no one likes it!”
J: “But there are people who like ketchup! That's a false analogy because steak shakes don't exist!”
W: “It makes sense.”
J: “No it doesn't. You need to come up with a better analogy your analogy sucks.”

Pause.

W: “Shut up.” (Puts on headphones to block out laughter).

This week I was afflicted once again by bronchitis (probably). I ran a fever, kept a sleep schedule even more irregular than usual, and would get severely winded walking from my bedroom to the kitchen or even talking to my roommates. I had to miss two days of work, spend a rather ridiculous amount of time coughing, and skip a number of meals due to the unpleasant thought of trying to push any solid food down past my tightened sore throat and lungs.

Discounting shortness of breath and occasionally hacking up a lung, I was beginning to feel like I was on the tail end of it late Friday afternoon and volunteered to take Sarah shopping. We are sitting at the light in front of Target on the Atlanta Highway and everything's fine. The light turns green, we start moving and I hear a peculiar sound coming from outside my window.

“Is that my car?”

I find my way off the road, get out, and my rear driver's side tire is completely flat. I felt this was a very unceremonious flat—I still have no clear idea of how it happened. There was no loud popping, no loss of control. After I unpack my trunk and realize I'm missing a crucial element for this whole procedure—“How do I not have a jack?”—Sarah walks over to the nearby strip mall and solicits help from a father and son picking up their pizza. They drop what they are doing and come over and change the tire for me.

These are the times when I really love being a woman for real. Laying on the ground, wheezing with sickness while trying to jack up my car was not the way I had intended to spend my Friday evening. And I didn't have to!

However, I reminded that while being an ultimate symbol of freedom, Russo (my car) is also now a child I have to take care of, and children are so damn expensive. Their rubber soles wear out so much faster than you think they will, and a month later they need new shoes! Russo doesn't understand how broke his mother is.

This week I have also developed a pronounced aversion to people. Everywhere I go I feel extremely crowded. In my apartment, in the street, in class, at work, everywhere. I would just like to be alone for more than an hour and I am never alone. There is always someone there. Around every corner there is someone I know, someone who needs to say hi, someone who is a presence that is in my way, has to be counted in my train of thought. It is driving me crazy.

I have no rational explanation for this, of course. Mostly, everyone has been wonderful to me. All the people in my life have been friendly and sweet, my roommates have taken great care of me during my illness, my family's cutting me slack all around. I just feel closed in. Pressurized on all sides. Precisely because no one has done anything to make me feel like this, I am trying my damnedest not to explode onto anyone, not to let the sound of voices or the warmth of bodies get to me. I was planning a little “who knows where I'll end up?” excursion with my Sunday to shake some of this off, but seeing as how I won't be able to take care of the tire problem until Monday and driving aimlessly on a spare is probably inadvisable, I'll just have to find some alone time closer to home.

It could just be the illness, but my chest feels incredibly tight. I need some decompression.

...

J: “But I've decided he's just a friend.”
E: (with horrified look) “Why?”
J: “It's just better this way. Easier. He's totally out of my league anyway.”
E: “But you like him so much! No one is out of you league, Jenna.”
J: “The deal is I can keep obsessing or I can move on. I know that it's not going to happen. I can settle for having a friend. And we have the potential to be really good friends, it's there.”
E: “It's just so sad. It's like you are giving up on romance.”

Ryan Adams, Come Pick Me Up Read More »

1. Copy this whole list into your journal.
2. Bold the things that are true about you.
3. Whatever you don't bold is false. Read More »

Today I'm riding down the elevator with Hollywood on one of our usual outside breaks from work, and he turns to me and says:

“Hot Greek Boy is [insert real name here], isn't he?”

I covered my face with both hands, as I could feel myself turning red, and softly said, “Yes.”

He continued, smiling at my embarassment. “I knew it couldn't be me, and I was thinking, how many greek boys does she know? And then I remembered the thing about his abs, and I knew.”

“Oh lord.”

“I understand! If I were a girl, I would like him too. I'm hot, but not as hot as [HGB]. Not yet.”

“It just feels like a lame high school crush thing. It's not like I want him to be my boyfriend.”

“You just want his hot bod.”

I'm smiling and blushing all at once. “Yes! Yes I do. He just drives me crazy!”

“But it's over now, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's over.”

Rob Gordon: The thing I learned from the whole Charlie debacle is that you gotta punch your weight. You see, Charlie, she's out of my class. She's too pretty. Too smart. Too witty. Too much. I mean, what am I? I'm a middleweight.

Today I have decided that Hot Greek Boy is officially being migrated to the friends category. It's just easier and better this way. We just don't match in the way I would like us to match, and we do have the potential to become great friends, if I just relax a little.

HGB is too good, too caring, too responsible for someone like me. He acts like my big brother, lecturing me on how I need to treat myself better. I don't want to fucking treat myself better. I long, in every way, to be mistreated, just for a little bit. That won't happen here. So I'm letting this one go.

I just wish I hadn't freaking told every goddamn person in the world about him before I came to this kind of decision.

If you've got anything to say about anything the next couple of days, any kind of caring or wisdom or criticism you are yearning to give me, on any fucking topic, just keep to your self, alright? I don't need the aggravation.

While I'm remembering all three of these at the same time, I'm recording them, once and for all.

In no particular order:

1. Never loan out anything you actually expect to get back.

2. You never get a second chance to make a first impression.

3. Don't go to sleep in your party clothes.

Words to live by, kids.

You may remember the viking stencil I spent nearly an hour an a half cutting out the other day.

I have subsequently destroyed it with paint by putting it on a shirt.

Fun!

Actual remarks said about me during the course of tonight's events:

...

“It's not really a loveseat. It's more of a recliner. Like Jenna. Comfortable.”

...

“Jenna is comfortable, is everything that can comfort a non-comforted person. Like a sofa. A sofa is everything you need as a non-comforted person to be comforted. Jenna is a sofa.”

...

“Jenna is the cushion with no back because she is in my brain. Jenna is in my brain more than anyone else.”

If you are seeing something completely jumbled or wrong, try holding down shift while pressing refresh on your browser.

If you are seeing something just plain different, welcome to the beginning of many changes here at jennatollerson.com.

I love having an XHTML compliant journal.

I've been thinking a lot lately about where this whole college thing is going. Driving around aimlessly all alone for hours at a time will actually force you to think.

See, the unfortunately fact of reality I have to face now is that I might never get into art school. Although nothing in this world would make me happier, even though I want to explore new mediums and be in that kind of community for the next few years, the chances that I will get in on a third try are very slim.

So I'm looking at other majors (seriously this time, not as a way to make fun of everyone) because I know I've got to pick something. I've got to finish or I've got to quit. This holding pattern thing has been fun, but I'm ready to move forward. I'm not ready to be done with college yet, but if I keep going to way I'm going it won't matter if I'm ever ready to be out. I still won't be able to get out.

Any change is going to involve something painful like calculus or foreign language or selling my soul to the man. I'm just tired of butting my head against the wall.

I wish things would just go my way. Geez.

I had to document the most excellent viking stencil just I spent a very long time cutting out, before I basically ruin it by actully using it to stencil something.

I was only out for about an hour and a half last night, but it left me completely elated. I am so happy I went out and was with the person I was with.

I was supposed to go out drinking tonight with some people, but not only did I fail to make any concrete plans, I woke up this morning and my right eye hurt like hell and was basically swollen shut, so I've essentially been sleeping all day with the eye iced up, with a headache and major photophobia. Only now has the pain subsided enough for me to even think about looking at a computer screen.

It has actually been very relaxing though. I watched some DVDs, randomly fell asleep over and over, nursed my headache and got a lot of undue sympathetic attention from my roommates.

In that same vein, I'm very happy this is a long weekend. Hopefully I will be able to get up and go to breakfast with the roommates.

I'm boring today, sorry. Even pimps need a day off.

“Jenna, that hat makes you look so pimp.”

Laughing. “That's actually not the first time someone has said that to me.”

“It just looks like you are saying, ‘You don't want none of this. Back the eff up.’ Except you probably don't say ‘eff’, you probably say the real thing.”

“Yeah, ‘eff’ just doesn't have the same kind of oomph.”

Today has been excellent. I think it is largely due to this hat.