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

This was only ten days ago, but it feels like years have gone by.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays at Barcode; Alli's and Catie's brief visit; a light sunburn; tank tops; well-earned hangovers; making friends with certifiable bad guys; re-reading Hand Over Fist and getting it for real this time; feeling like I know every third person in this town, and being only six degrees from the rest; wallowing with the help of Elliott Smith

On Wednesday night, my roommates called me into the living room to receive the previously mentioned special backordered gift. Wondering what it was had been driving me crazy for three days, but even more so, I was worried that after all the build up I wouldn't look excited enough. I'm not a great gift receiver, and never know how to properly show my gratitude.

In this case, I needn't have worried.

They had hastily wrapped it up in the cover of this weeks Flagpole Magazine. It was a small box, and I had no idea what it could be, until I cleared away the newsprint and saw the brand name on the top of the gift box.

I must have turned pale at that point. There is no way they actually bought that for me.

I opened the box, and they had, in fact, bought me the locket I had daydreamed about receiving for Valentine's Day.

Catie asked, “Jenna Tollerson, will you be our Valentine?”

It took just about everything I had in me not to cry.

Dear Apartment 6:

I don't know if I tell you enough, but living at Apartment 6 with you, my great friends, is the happiest I have ever been in all my 22 years. Not just the happiest, even, but the first time in my life I have ever been truly happy. The work and thought everyone put into my birthday is just one more reason I feel that moving into that apartment was the best decision I ever made. I love you.

I'm wearing that locket even now, as I sit in my sister's home office in Redmond, Washington. I've only been here 24 hours, and at some point there will be much to tell, but there has been so much airport-havoc-people-watching-meeting-people-and-dogs-talking-til-dawn that my head is spinning as I attempt to process all the details.

So I've been writing in a notebook for the past couple of days. Paper and pen, the old-fashioned way, and trying to jot things down, from my head, no self editing and none of the weaving into what would normally make it into the public domain. I'm doing this so I don't miss anything.

Details are, of course, what turns a series of events into a story. I continute to be, more than anything, in the business of Jenna Tollerson mythopoeia.

We at the House are not giving up cyberspace. You can trust that the stories will indeed follow. Soon.

I'll tell you a secret: I've woken up crying for the past three days. Woken up and just sobbed for 10 or 15 minutes.

This is strange behavior under any circumstances, but especially strange because today—the third day I've woken up wondering why I bother to ever get out of bed—is my birthday. I am 22 years old today. And I've been having one of the worst weeks I've had in awhile.

If it wasn't the crippling low, it was an equally crippling bout of anxiety that lasted for my entire workday on Wednesday—nearly 8 hours of tense muscles, rapid heartbeat and difficulty breathing—that only slightly let up after I got home and incoherently babbled to Abie about nothing that I can remember now. It's been not wanting to ever get out of bed, preferring to hide in the dark and not face the world.

Here's where I need to point out that trying to hide from the world and having a birthday at the same time are totally incompatible. Even though I didn't even think they knew about my birthday at the time, Crystal and Amanda showed up at my house on Saturday night (from out of state, no less) and forced me to go a show with them, even though I had no other goals for the night than to curl up into a ball on the couch and try to disappear.

I got out of my pajamas, took a shower, and put on a show of my own: the one where I am happy and normal and not incredibly depressed.

We went to Flicker. My roommates Emily and Melissa were already there. Michael Flynn played lots of mushy love songs. He's actually fantastic, but felt distracted and in a daze.

Between sets Abie showed up, and then Bill Carson played. He's equally fantastic, and writes really sexy music, and the whole time I was thinking about how I needed to get the hell outta there into the open air, away from the crowds. I did not want to be around people at that moment.

After the set I got up and dashed out, and Abie came and found me. I related to her nearly everything, how I felt like shit, smothered by my life, that things, at 22, where not going at all the way I wanted.

Saying it aloud did help, just a little.

Just after midnight we gathered roommates and house guests and all ten of us went to the Grill.

We were all being goofy, taking pictures of each other, generally making too much of a ruckus, when spontaneously all nine people seated with me sang me Happy Birthday. It was simultaneously special, embarrassing, and the exact opposite of imperative-be-ye-not-social.

I probably needed it.

I woke up late today. My Dad called me while I was still in bed, contemplating the work ahead of me, and invited me to Winder to have dinner. I told him I had too much studying to do. He said he would come to Athens and feed me on a study break.

I got in the shower, further putting off studying, and realized there was no way I was going to pass the test on Tuesday. I got out of the shower, got online, and dropped the class.

I called my Dad. “I don't have to study anymore. I dropped it.”

“You sound ten times better than you did when I talked to you before.”

My sister and I went to Winder to eat Zaxby's with Dad. Choices in Winder are slim, see. Being in Winder made me feel kind of relaxed for some reason. Sarah and Dad talked a lot about music theory. Dad made his usual quota of bad jokes, and Sarah talked about her recent admission to a fancy music school. It was good to not be talking about myself for awhile.

When I came home at least 3 roommates blocked me from the kitchen and told me I needed to get in my room. This is a customary Apartment 6 birthday greeting.

A few minutes later, they called me into the living room. You will never guess what my cake looked like. It was the Best Thing Ever.

After I blew out the candles Abie asked me to sit down.

“We have to tell you something about your present. We all went in on something for you but it's on backorder, so you'll have to wait.”

“You guys did that for me?”

It's really awesome to find out your roommates were planning something behind your back, as long as it's not your demise.

Allison: “If you want something to unwrap I can wrap something for you—like the Prince of Weasels.”

Catie: “The Prince of Weasels is not for giving away.”

Allison: “Oh.”

I love both my families. Not because they buy me things or make me iPod cakes or pick beautiful pink flowers out for me, but because I've got people pulling for me even when things seem dark and inescapable. They love me even if I am a grump for a whole week, and they think about me even when I'm not standing there in front of them. I've been up in my own head a lot lately and forgot that I'm in a lot of other people's heads too.

“Um, Jenna?”

(Not even half awake) “Yeeeah?”

“Phone for you... Someone broke into your car.”

(Suddenly completely alert) “My car? You're fucking kidding me.”

My parking service had called the police and had an officer waiting on the scene when I arrived with Abie.

I walk around to poor, wounded Russo. His driver's side window was busted in. Nothing was even taken. The CD changer was still in the trunk. My glove compartment had been rifled through, but all my paperwork was still there. My one comfort is that the interior lock on the driver's side doesn't work, so whoever was responsible had to lean through the window, all over the broken glass, and hopefully will be finding glass in their clothes for a few weeks.

My roommate Allison's car was also broken into overnight. She parks two lots down, a block away. The officer asked Abie and I if we have any enemies we could think of that would have targeted us.

No, I said. It's just an unhappy coincidence.

If nothing else, I now feel like I've gotten the full urban experience. Yey.

Jenna
     [11:05] to top it all off I now have a mondo headache
     [11:31] make my head stop pounding, won't you?

Neil
     [11:32] biggidy bam.
     [11:32] how is it now?

It is 10 til 8:00 on Friday morning. Dehydrated, head pounding, I stumble into the kitchen to get water. As I pour a glass, Emily, who is about to head off to work, looks at me with concern, tilts her head and asks, “How do you feel?”

The first word I utter this morning comes out as a choked, low sound as I squint at her.

“Drunk.”

...

Thursday night I was invited out by coworkers (mainly, Neil) for drinks at Copper Creek. I arrived a little after 8:00, with Abie and the Indian in tow, and ordered something they brew in-house at Copper Creek, an Abbey Ale. Abbey Ales are fruity, dark and deliciously deceptive: even though it is printed clearly on the sign touting house beers, one soon forgets that it contains 7.9% alcohol. By the time our party had moved out to the patio area, I had consumed three, plus the half of Abie's she had been unable to finish (“I'm just not a big beer drinker!” she had proclaimed).

Hilarity ensued.

I remember:

• Neil, Abie and Tyler trying to get me to sing. When I displayed reluctance, they tried to get me to rap.
  “C'mon Jenna! Bust out some Southern Hospitality!”
  I declined.
• It somehow coming out among my coworkers that I'm a ‘nympho’, if only by my inability to deny it.
• Insulting people, having it repeated back to me 10 seconds later and truly not remembering 10 seconds later calling anyone a “cunt”.
  
  “I didn't just say that, did I?”
  “Yes, you did.”
  “Wow.”
• I was asked to and sang along with the cheesy jazz covers record they had been playing in the bar on a loop for the last three hours. I was too drunk to be accurately singing, and kept exclaiming in my defense that the singer was in a really weird key.
• Repeating expertly accented Japanese phrases back to Abie, under the pretense that I actually might remember some of it, which of course I don't. She was delighted by my skillful pronunciation, however. I got mad skillz.

After I finished my fourth (and ½) Abbey Ale, at about 11:30 the group split, with Neil and Tyler off to the 40 Watt and myself and my crüe off to Tastyworld for Bain Mattox. Sam Deeds was there, as were my roommates Alli and Catie, my sister Sarah, and Heather and Rob (who are delightful, but officially belong to Abie I think).

The Indian buys me more beer. I protest that I don't need anymore. He pulls the “I'm not asking, I'm telling!” form of best friend manipulation. I cave. I have a lot more to drink, but am never so drunk that I fail to get served at the bar.

The Indian forces me to waltz with him during one number, and I step on his feet a lot as we bump into everyone around us. This did not make us popular, I think.

At the end of the show, I spend long amounts of time praising Bain and his bandmates on their most excellent performance, and then have the audacity to quiz him on my name. Very confidently he blurts out “Abie.” I smile and correct him. He feels bad, and then I feel bad for making him feel bad. I tell both Bain and Brian at separate times that they are the cute one in the band, both while they are standing right there. I monopolize their time.

It's amazing what some people will put up with when it comes to their fans.

After saying goodbyes I make it home, drink a couple glasses of water, and decide that I'll be okay for class and work at 9 am. Obviously, I was wrong.

...

dude (6:31:37 PM): you have a rough morning?
me (6:32:04 PM): yes. yes I did.
me (6:32:33 PM): still drunk this morning actually
dude (6:32:41 PM): lovely
dude (6:32:46 PM): yeah you were pretty plowed
me (6:33:40 PM): I wasn't that bad, was I?
dude (6:34:28 PM): hahahahaha
dude (6:35:04 PM): :) you were tolerable :)
me (6:35:14 PM): tolerable
me (6:35:29 PM): what every girl wants to hear, that she is tolerable :)
dude (6:35:34 PM): hahaha
me (6:36:28 PM): well I meant all that stuff about being glad to see you, even if I did say it 45 times
dude (6:36:56 PM): hahaha
dude (6:37:32 PM): i wonder
dude (6:37:51 PM): if we as humans have a drunk memory section in our brains
dude (6:38:08 PM): you know how sometimes when you're drunk you don't remember what happened
dude (6:38:25 PM): well what if you got drunk again and then made an effort to think about it again
dude (6:38:28 PM): would you remember?
me (6:38:33 PM): hmmmm
me (6:38:49 PM): I don't know
me (6:39:02 PM): I usually don't have memory problems when I'm drunk

So I lied, but I didn't know I was lying at the time, I swear.

Somehow whenever I'm with the Indian I get dragged into completely random situations such as house parties. It always seems to happen by accident, with no sense of predetermination, and frequently with the objective of free beer.

There was a party being thrown by some new residents in my apartment building on Friday, and the Indian and I of course ended up there. I didn't particularly want to be there but friends stick together.

Everyone was very nice, but I was tired, and bored. I left a couple of times, running over to the smoke shop or running upstairs in search of decent beer. Out of sheer boredom I macked on this cat (known hereafter as K) who kept flirting with me, but it came increasingly clear that it was going nowhere. K was kind of cute, and only kind of dumb at first, but got stupider and stupider as time went on, no doubt helped along by massive amounts of beer. I gave up on getting any action after this exchange:

K (whining a little): “I wanna go downtown!”
J: “You are downtown.”
K: “I know, but I wanna go to some bars, listen to some music.” (Begins doing the drunk white guy dance.)
J: “What bars are you planning on going to?”
K: “Bourbon Street!”

I later explained to the Indian that I was not going to chase K into that place because I imagine that Bourbon Street is the kind of place where “you catch an STD just by walking in. You come through the door and bang! You've got herpes.”

Except for some funny exchanges with the Indian, it was kind of a waste of an evening.

Tonight I watched Peter Pan all the way through, finally, and I highly recommend it. Catie and I made a liquor store trip, where I purchased peach flavored morning vodka, because it was on clearance, and I just had to after hearing all about it. I'm sure this is just one more step on some cosmic checklist to becoming a respectable alcoholic, but the comic effect of actually having that on hand is something I had to experience.

I just bought a new computer, which is being custom built in a warehouse somewhere and should be in my hands and set up in just a couple of weeks, so if for some reason you would like to opt of the CD-mix-making extravaganza that will promptly ensue, speak now, or prepare to receive and listen to many songs you may or may not want to hear.

Awesome things happening:

• By this time next week I should have my first car.
• I paid off one of my credit cards today.
• Talib Kweli is playing Legion Field on Monday, for free.
• Sarah is moving to Athens.
• Abie and Allison are coming back from their respective vacations, so we will be a family again.

The one thing that must be said about awesome events: the anticipation is killing me.

I finally found a station with a west coast feed of Loveline.

You have no idea how happy this makes me.

Today was okay. Work, followed by some work. Then I came home and watched the original version of Ocean's Eleven with the little ones.

Then I told them all about my grandfather's obsession with spraypainting everything.

His shoes.

His garden statuary.

The doors inside his house.

His '69 Impala.

(maybe I forgot the Impala?)

I raise my rock hands in salute to the Abinator!

Goodnight.

I'm in the new apartment (and using my roommate Alli's computer, I hope she does not mind to much) and I would post for you pictures of the place, but my computer is currently out of commission. Again.

It's a great place though, with big windows in the living room and secret loft spaces and hardwood floors. But best of all I have the best roommates in the world. They're all fun and soothing to be around and wonderful cooks and artsy and completely neurotic, just like me. I feel right at home here.

Yesterday Alli made English muffin pizzas and we ate while listening to the band the floor below us practice. Loudly. Catie set the face of her Fender amp on the floor and took revenge with a Squire Strat. It was lovely. Catie has mad skillz. Then the three of us walked down to Blue Sky and got hot chocolate (they got coffee), and when we saw a storm that could be coming we walked back up to our place and waited, but I don't think it ever came.

When we got home the band had stopped, so despite there being a bar open and people roaming the street two floors below, here it was quiet. I was feeling quite right with the world until, carrying my computer from the living room to my bedroom, I dropped it when it was just a foot from the ground. I opened it in a panic to inspect, and it seemed all right, and even the speakers, which haven't worked in at least a year and a half, started playing music. I thought all was in okay shape until I tried to run Internet Explorer and my computer became upset because I have bed sectors. Hopefully my dad can make it all right.

Come visit me! I promise you'll enjoy yourself.

This is from the lovely and talented Alli Hayn's Live Journal.

1. Describe the best feeling you've ever had: Well I'm never been in love, so I'd have to say live music, when done right, gives me an awful powerful serene feeling.

2. Were you named after anyone: Yes. Jenna is Conan the Barbarian's girlfriend in comic #11. I swear. If you try to tell my dad any different he gets really passionate about it. I should know.

3. Do you wish on stars: Nope. I mostly throw coins into fountains.

4. Which finger is your favourite?: I like my thumbs alright.

5. When did you last cry: Last Saturday while listening to Sean Kagalis play this song live. Some of the lyrics apply way too well.

6. Do you like your handwriting: It serves its purpose.

7. What is your favorite lunch meat: Chicken salad counts, right?

Why the numbers skip here I don't know.

15. Do you think there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: There is no end, remember? Its just one big circle. You know?

16. Do fish have feelings: Don't know. Don't care.

17. Are you trendy: Well, I was carrying a messenger bag way back in 1998, before anyone thought they were cool. So I set some, but I can't find many I want to follow.

18. How do you release anger: I go for a walk, sometimes a drive. Every once in a great while I explode.

19. Where is your second home: Assuming I know where my first home is, my second home is the Kirby's, all the way. Maybe the Kirby's is my first home, who knows.

20. Do you trust others easily: Nope.

21. What was your favorite toy as a child: I think my 3.1 computer (that I shared with my sista) with all it's 32 color game goodness.

22. What class in school do you think is totally useless: Well, I hate science. It's useless to me. (Yes, very democratic).

23. Do you like sappy love songs: How do you define sappy?

24. Have you ever been on radio or television: Except for Winder's Channel 12, I don't think so.

25. Do you have a journal: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! See below.

26. Do you use sarcasm a lot: Yeppers.

27. Have you ever been in a mosh pit: yes. not a fan, but I'm studying the motivations informally, and it's starting to make sense.

29. What are your nicknames: Jen, Jen-Jen, Jenna 'Nene, Blue Eyes, the Tree Lady, #1 Web whore, etc, etc.

30. Would you bungee jump: No, but I might skydive. The sudden snap back up is what bothers me about bungee jumping.

31. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off: Nope. I hardly ever untie them at all.

32. What are you worried about right now: Let's not get started on that, please.

33. Do you ever wear overalls: Lord no. I would look atrocious.

34. Do you think that you are strong: I can hold my own.

35. What's your favorite ice cream flavour: Ben and Jerry's Phish Food, coffee, mint chocolate chip, and, or course, chocolate.

36.What's your favourite colour: blue

37. What is your least favorite thing in the world: right now, the lack of a train between Athens and Atlanta. It's just ridiculous.

38. How many wisdom teeth do you have: All of them, even though I was supposed to have them out like a million years ago.

39. Do you have a crush on someone? haha yes of course. more than 10, less than 20. I'm really not sure how many.

40. How many people have a crush on you right now: How am I supposed to know?

41. What do you miss most right now: Listening to Jay Clifford sing.

42. Do you want everyone you send this to to send it back: blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

43. What are your fears? growing up to be a failure.

44. Do you talk to your laundry? umm do people do that? Suddenly I feel left out of the neuroses circus.

45. At what point do your clothes become laundry?: 2 or 3 wears for shirts, lots and lots of wear for jeans, and I wash it right away if I wore it out to a club with smoking. Whew.