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

A lot has happened and nothing has happened while I've been away, Internet. I did Christmas with the family, Charleston with my friends, said goodbye to the single most influential force in my life thus far, and met a dozen or so new and wonderful people.

Then I came back to Athens. And I've felt completely weird ever since. It's a feeling I always get in Charleston, which, being a city I don't particularly care for, has a tendency to throw me way out of my comfort zone on those extended stays. There is no good way to describe it other than I feel “off”. I expected it to release it's hold on me when I came home, but it's hung around in one way or another. This is only a hollow sinking feeling in my gut though. In reality, I own the motherfuckin Classic City. I have friends, regular haunts, a job where everyone digs my work, a swank apartment, and depression-wise, I'm feeling less episode-dy than I have in years. I get up everyday excited to get some shit done (after a shower and a few big gulps of a caffeinated beverage, anyway). It doesn't take every sheer ounce of will I have to make myself walk out and face the world in the morning. This is progress!

So why then, in moments of stillness, when I'm with myself, do I just not feel like me? The words that used to spring forth effortlessly into ready composition now get jumbled into a mess and make me weary when I try to string them together into something coherent. Hence, the long absence from the game. Maybe it's winter, something about the cold draining a person. I feel like I'm hibernating sometimes, the edges of my ideas and thoughts dull and worse for wear. I feel like I've lost the magic spark, and that, while I'm enjoying my life immensely, its no longer something that people would actually want to read about.

Today I went to work. I had a really challenging javascript case, it was fun. I came home and watched the Sopranos on DVD. I just got the fifth season. I have a secret crush on Christopher Moltisanti. Even though he kills people. A lot of people.

On Friday, I'm going to drink at Barcode. Same on Saturday. On Sunday, I might grocery shop and get ready for my week, detoxing as necessary.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Take away the bottle, take away the genie.

Hopefully, winter will let up soon, and I can sit on College Square, draw, read, write and chain smoke. Get my brain working again, and out of hibernation.

In other news, Miss Sarah Tollerson has moved to the fair city of Boston, and I miss her desperately. She hasn't even been gone a week, and I have gone much longer than a few days without seeing her in the past, but for some reason, knowing that I can't catch up with her while we grocery shop together every few Sundays makes my heart ache.

She's gonna do great though, and I couldn't be more proud of her.

I've even given her web site a face life to mark the occasion. I tried to make it autumn-ish, because that is the most beautiful time of year in Boston and the only time of year that I've visited. However, Sarah is currently braving a much harsher winter than I.

And paying 69¢ for a single pack of ramen noodles. Unbelievable what those New Englanders have been conditioned to put up with.