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

There is not much to report this year, but this is a Christmas tradition. Read More »

Each year, we at the house take an intimate look at the last 12 months, in a frighteningly frank way. This is to keep things honest, despite anything else that may have been written. This year it seems more important that ever, because we haven't been checking in as much.

As always, if you think you may be offended by cursing, graphic sexuality, talk about death, destructive relationships, or substance abuse, among other topics, turn away now. Have some kittens.

In addition, if you feel that such talk might ruin your holiday, save the read until after the new year.

And now, on with the show. Read More »

I'm not feeling all that great, Internet. The past few weeks I've been focused on my own broken heart, and I've been working in an unenthusiastic way, not concentrating as easily or finishing as fast as I have in the past. I also think I was probably due for a little bit of burn out, considering the pace I've been keeping and the stress that never goes away. So I slept a lot (I told some people whose calls I didn't answer that I “took a coma”), I stared at the TV a lot, I smoked a lot.

This week, however, I was ready to pull myself back up and pour myself into my work once more. I got a pep talk from my mentor, who has been through all the same things. Yesterday afternoon, after hitting the proverbial wall trying to make progress on an overdue project for weeks, the universe gave me a break and I was able to start moving forward. I was so excited to be back on track.

Then, the setback. Yesterday evening I had a sore throat and some sneezing, today it has turned into a full blown cold, the kind with dizziness and lightheadedness and permanently chapped lips. I have a headache, I can't breathe, and most devastating, I can't think clearly at all. Right now my mind is a big marshmallow when it comes to tackling the hard techie stuff.

There is something horribly unjust about getting a cold in the dead middle of the summer. On the one hand, it does prove what I was always trying to tell my mother when I was a teenager — that leaving the house with wet hair in the winter is not what makes you sick. On the other hand, why now? When the weather is perfect and people are having parties and my professional queue has been backed up for weeks? Why not in the giant holes of time I had last November or February? In the winter, when it makes sense? That's all I ask.

I know I'm not eloquent today. I'm just grumpy.

“Life never gets easier. It just gets harder and harder until the stress kills you.”

“That's about right.”

“Then what's the point?”

“You just have to enjoy each day while you're here.”

“It's not enough.”

“Maybe we need to get you on mood altering drugs. I know a guy who sells speed.” Laughs.

“It certainly would help with my productivity.”

“I was kidding.”

“Well, it would.”

“Until you crash and burn.”

“Eh, I'm always gonna crash and burn anyway.”

I had a chance to finally open up on Saturday. I cried. In fact, I sobbed uncontrollably. But before I could feel any kind of catharsis, I pulled myself back together. I have this intense desire to not burden anyone, so when I am in fact falling off the edge, it feels like no one sees it.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm sitting alone in the dark, crying.”

“Really? Why?”

“I hate my life and I wish I was dead.”

Things aren't like they used to be. My short year where I had a nice, middle-class living feels like a previous life. In that life when I was upset I would go out and get drunk, or buy myself some shiny thing, or treat myself to a dinner out. I know now that those were not much more than quick fixes, but now I can't even utilize a quick fix. Now I know that one night can't fix me. I feel totally damaged and worthless all of the time. It takes every ounce of everything I've got to get myself out of bed. And lately, sometimes even that simple act — the act of pulling myself upright and out of bed — is impossible. There are days when it hasn't happened. The strange thing about being self employed is you can give yourself the day off because you are feeling blue, but you can only do that for so long. I am broke, with overdue projects and no concrete prospects and this feeling of hopelessness permeating everything. I really don't want to go on.

But of course I will, because I don't have the balls to do anything drastic, positive or negative. I always worry about the things I might miss if I make any big decisions. It's why I don't lose the weight I want to lose, it's why I don't tell certain people just how I feel about them, it's why I don't leave Athens, it's why I don't move back in with my parents no matter how much money I'd save, it's why I haven't offed myself even though I've had the desire off and on consistently for the last ten years or so.

Even though I often feel like I don't have any deep relationships, I'd still miss these people. I'd miss the conversations, the dancing, the hugging, the getting high together, the getting drunk together, the high fives, watching people play pool, my nicknames, being loud, being quiet, watching movies, exchanging mixtapes, telling stories, and most of all, laughing.

These are the things that keep me going, when I think I've got nothing to live for.

Returning home this evening (this morning?), I checked my mail to discover that I have been turned down for health insurance because I don't meet the height and weight requirements. And this is after I lied about my weight on the form, putting myself at my high school weight instead of my college drop out weight.

I've had a shitty couple of weeks, but up until this point, the evening I have had remedied most of that. Now I feel like I am back at square one.

The good news is, I'm out of money again, so I'm back on the poverty diet any time now. Huzzah.

I am so fucking done with life right now.

I realized that I've stopped talking about the unpleasant feelings all together.

I've praised myself these many months for my ability to stay positive, stay on message, eyes on the prize. With friends, I talk about work a lot, and how hard it is right now — but if anything truly dark materializes, I discard it. I convince myself there is no use in succumbing; I know that to be successful in business and simply stay on my feet, I should act in a confident and charismatic way, and more importantly, believe my performance with all my heart.

I've become a much less interesting but much more content person. My writing has become passionless and dry, a collection of sly quips and shallow comedy, which go down easy. I guess I should be taking photographs or drawing, but instead use my time away from work to watch the same DVDs over and over, or head down to my bar to have the same meaningless, flirty conversations with the same people. Read More »

Write me if you like {jenna at this domain}.

Later.

Many people have asked me how the month of sobriety went, or even stranger, “how the not-drinking is going”, present-tense. It made me realize that I never wrapped it up, never gave it a conclusion in the narrative of my life. Someday, I may have a publicist for this sort of thing, but for now, I'll have to make the announcement myself—and ramble out some thoughts on the whole matter. Read More »

Yesterday, in celebration of former-roommate-Melissa's birthday, we sat on her and former-roommate-Emily's living room floor (there is no couch there yet), eating chocolate cake, listening to vintage polka music on vinyl. The air conditioning was broken, it was 85 degrees, and for long spans of time no one talked. It was like a avant guarde European short film made to illustrate the futility of life. But it was definitely the most relaxed party I've been to in a long time.

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One of the interesting things about living downtown is the fact that laundry day involves going to into the bars that share your building, asking bartenders to change dollars for quarters.

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Work is not great right now. I myself follow the “don't get dooced” rule, so I won't say much other that I've become very disillusioned with the entire ordeal.

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The new apartment still rules.

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It is so surreal to me that while it was not my intention for it to be so, a post to my website somehow passes for a real apology. It doesn't feel real.

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Classes start again for me on Friday. I was seriously motivated about a month ago, but lately I feel like I'm slipping. I can't organize my thoughts, I can't seem to move on certain things. I feel frozen, locked in place, or maybe even held down by some physic weight.

Of course, this is every August, like clockwork. And hopefully, like clockwork, it'll pass.

I just wish I could remember to watch for it, before I lose what little control I seem to exercise over my own wild psychosis.

The first step is to stop being such a drama queen. Stop feeding it. Stop looking for sympathy, stop trying to be so tragic. It's not romantic, it's sad and desperate.

So stop.