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

I had a terrifying nightmare last night, disturbing enough to cause me to not even want to write about it now. It woke me up in the middle of the night, but I had already forgotten it and didn't know why I had woken up. Being the geek that I am, upon waking I wondered over to my computer to check my email. I was in the middle of surfing Consumating five minutes later when awful flashes of it suddenly started coming back to me, and I immediately opened up Notepad and typed out the details as they came back. Then I couldn't sit in the dark at my computer anymore, and I got back into bed, curling into a ball under the covers to wait for dawn, when things hopefully wouldn't be so scary. I fell into a restless sleep, and when I woke up at 6:30 I watched some Sopranos and stayed bed until the sun came up.

After all that, when I started to work this morning, I was tired and couldn't concentrate, not to mention sort of traumatized by what my brain is capable of producing. So I took up my long-dead habit of drinking coffee. Four cups later I'm wired and can't concentrate, not to mention sort of traumatized by what my brain is capable of producing. I drugged myself into mania and nervousness.

I think I miscalculated.

I. Dig Your Own Hole.

Due to my especially caustic and matter-of-fact nature, I outright insulted the music taste of a dear friend on Saturday, calling him, as I recall, “a type”, protesting that he only enjoyed pretentious alternative rock, and pinning down that he is obviously a big Radiohead fan. Which is all true. So why do I feel bad about saying it?

II. Kissing Cousins.

Besides the inherent way you relate to them, I think this is the big difference between having men for best friends (read: family without blood relation) instead of women:

You don't have very sexy dreams about one of your female friends that, while pleasant (read: hot.) at the time, upon awaking leave you feeling quite uncomfortable and possibly incestuous. At least, I don't have those kinds of dreams about my female friends.

I'm going to blame it on the drunk sleep and never speak of it again.

III. Vanilla Caramel Cologne

Even though it was Monday morning, 8 am class, I was excited about going to class this morning. I felt that the week was rich with possibility. I sat at one of the ridiculous constructed desk-and-chair-in-ones in the classroom and waited, taking out my new spiral notebook and pen, eager to learn.

We had a paper to hand back, and instead of having us pass them to the front from where we sat (which would have made so much sense and which I so wished had happened), my teacher invited us to walk up and hand them them in.

Standing from one of these previously mentioned desk-and-chairs has never been a very easy feat for me. It seems I possess the grace of a baby elephant in these circumstances, and today was no exception.

I made movements to stand. The desk wobbled. The coffee which sat on my desk wobbled, and tipped. Verona blend coffee and Vanilla Caramel coffee mate went all over my desk, all over my new notebook, but worst of all, all over the right side of my person.

I exclaimed “Shit!” at what I believe was a clearly audible level no doubt heard throughout campus, and stood completely, attempting to keep my cool. Covered in coffee, I approached my teacher, handed him my paper, and promptly left the room in search of paper towels.

I returned and attempted to clean up, but no matter how much I cleaned more coffee seemed to come from somewhere. Even when I did get everything up, the desk where I sat was sticky, and worse, I was sticky. And I smelled like coffee, an increasing unpleasant odor that begin to fill the room, or at least permeate the air around me in a way in which I couldn't escape it.

I had to pretend that this was a completely normal day for me, and when I left to go to my next class, I had to calmly walk down Baldwin Street, sunglasses and headphones on, smoking a cigarette, pretending that the coffee stain covering the right side of my torso was the new cool thing.

I can only hope that the school year will go up from here.

Start with two Irish Carbombs. Add two overpriced cigarettes and and two Smoked Porter brews from Copper Creek. Mix well until there is a pleasant, steady buzz. Laugh loud at the Brit and smoke another cigarette on the way home.

Arrive home before midnight. Change into pajamas, slam two huge glasses of water. Climb into bed at 12:03 am, excited about the long night of rest that lies ahead (a whole nine hours!). Fall asleep painlessly and instantly.

Your phone will ring at 12:57 am, waking you, but don't answer it. Instead, inspect the time, decide that it is one in the afternoon, that you overslept, and are now late for work. Begin formulating excuses for your boss.

30 seconds after the ring, the mind cloud lifts, it's one am again. Go back to sleep without trouble or incident.

At 3:45 am, wake up suddenly and completely, without cause, and stone sober to boot.

[It should be noted here that there are two main kinds of insomnia: the people who can't get to sleep and the people who can't stay asleep. I have always been one of the former. I am not too keen on becoming one of the latter.]

Lay in bed, still dead tired but now unable to sleep, for two hours. Get up and write, believing it will help. It won't. Get back in bed until 7:00, and then give up and get in the shower.

After getting all fresh and clean, go the kitchen to make breakfast. Knock a box full of pasta off it's shelf. When you go to pick it up in your groggy state, the box will be upside-down. The top will come completely undone, and you will have ruined dry pasta all over the floor.

Sit on the floor in your bathrobe, heave a big sigh, and clean it up.

After breakfast head to Starbucks to kill time before work. Listen to lavishly and obnoxiously arranged version of “O Holy Night”. Note that Christmas music before Thanksgiving is part of what is wrong with the world, and is certainly a sign of the rapture.

Move quickly (trying to outrun the music) out of the coffee shop. Mix well with one overpriced but delicious eggnog latte, charged to a credit card, and send to work for 6 ½ hours.

Serves no one. And everyone.

It's been a long day.

Today went relatively smooth. I woke a little later than I wanted, but I got everything that I needed to get done.

I like throwing on a shirt and a bandana over my head and walking to the market. I like that the day was hot and bright. I like making people happy. I like swiping my platinum card and worrying about it later. I like the guy at the cig shop who always smiles at me. I like the new Starbucks Strawberries & Crème, although for me, it will never beat the sweet, strong taste of espresso. I like my time with Abie.

I like seeing old friends.

I don't want any of us to move away or get married or grow up, but it is happening. Everyone around me is becoming an adult.

Here's to hoping this summer lasts forever.