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

There is a discussion on the much lauded opium² about the best songs to do the deed to. I was asked to weigh in by the Roommates™ (I have this undeserved rep as a mixtape aficionado) and offered this:

What you need to understand is, the key to a good sex mix is the fact that the seduction music is part of it. You can't stop someone in the middle of, um, whatever they are doing so you can run over to your CD player and pop in your “Music for Humpin” mix. You have to start it up when you get them back to your humble abode, and act like you're not trying to imply anything with your HOTT background music.

It also shouldn't just stop abruptly at the end of the act. Think about a story arch. A climax is simply the major turning point, not the end.

So, presented with notation, a chronological sex mix:

Arrival. "Come on in, sorry about the mess."

1. Strong As Death (Sweet As Love) // Al Green
2. Lover, You Should've Come Over // Jeff Buckley

Smooching begins.

3. Love Letters // Jude
4. I've Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now) // Otis Redding

Clothes start coming off. Nakedness and related activity is in full swing by track 7.

5. I Want You // Elvis Costello
6. Sugar Pill // Ambulance Ltd
7. I Remember // Damien Rice

Climax.

8. We Looked Like Giants // Death Cab For Cutie

Hopefully at this point you have wooed the honey to the point where they want to have breakfast with you in the morning. There is none of that "I have to get up really early" stuff. And you fall asleep.

9. Falling Away With You // Muse
10. Drown In My Own Tears // Will Hoge

This puts the whole act, from start to finish, at about 45 minutes. While that might be a lot to expect from men at my age, it's certainly not impossible. A girl can dream.

It should be noted that my obsession is not sex, it's mixtapes—pacing, timing, and flow. It has many of the same concerns as sex I suppose.

Every semester, at finals, there is a song that I will listen to over and over and over again, and it gets me through. Last Spring, is was Aerosmith's Walk this Way. Last Fall it it was Damien Rice's Cheers Darlin'. For my purposes this semester, it has been Al Green's Love & Happiness, which I kept on a loop for the entire afternoon until I had to take my final at 3:30.

I know in the spirit of go-out-there-and-getem I should be listening to things that are more "eye of the tiger", but end of semester, the last thing I need is to get more wound up. Al Green just keeps me from hyperventilating. With all the coffee I've had lately it's totally possible.

And now I want to scream “Viva la summer!” and kick off my shoes and run through the grass barefoot and go to the pool and sleep through the hottest part of the afternoon.

Then I remember I'm not 12 anymore, and tomorrow is just like any other Tuesday. I'm going to get up, and I'm going to go to work. When I come home, I'm going to make myself dinner, and maybe watch a movie, but nothing else too crazy, because I have work Wednesday morning. I will spend a significant part of this week cleaning the apartment that has gotten to be a wreck since everyone has been studying and freaking out about end of semester and insanely busy.

Basically, I will just continue doing what I'm doing, because adults don't get summer off.

This is not to undermine the freedom I have from academia in the coming months (there's nothing like it. Work stress pales in comparison to school stress, always). Really, this shouldn't even be a issue, because this time last year I was already working. But then I realize this time last year I was facing a summer of crashing at my parents house, driving dad's car, eating their food and having no bills except my mobile phone and keeping gas in the car.

Goodness how times have changed.

While I wouldn't trade living in Athens for anything, I sure would like to win the lottery right now.

This past weekend Will and Sam came to see me at my home in Athens and also to transfer me back to Winder. I was a lovely afternoon including Starbucks, people suspended in the air, Audioslave, and a trip to Barnes & Noble, where I bought, among other things, the Playboy Bartender's Guide, which curiously does not contain the recipe for a Sex on the Beach but does have one for Sex in the Desert. Somehow that seems rauchier.

A short trip in Will's ghetto-fabulous car put us at the Winder Sonic, where it promptly and quite suddenly died.

Just running along and then — nothing.

Will called up his "deddy" who arrived in no time flat and diagnosed the problem as the alternator. I have no idea what this means, but he and Will decided this after much standing in front of the open hood, frowning and nodding, so that's got to be significant somehow.

Will and his father switched cars, and we followed the ghetto fabulous car in the truck to the dealership where they left it for the weekend. Then we drove "deddy" home; on the way there Will and his father seemed like the older and younger version of one person having a conversation with himself.

On Sunday Maggie and I went to see Damien Rice at the Cotton Club and holy freaking hell! It was one of the best shows I have ever seen. I also have developed major Volcano-envy because he brought a girl from the audience up to sing the female part of "Volcano" with him. I was soooo jealous.

And also very happy for her.

After that this week has been a blur of stress, lack of sleep, art, mind crunching, and trying to stay confident in my abilities. Because I am a genius. Or something like that.

8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind