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

Today when I approached the counter at Zaxby's, there was just one older gentleman in line in front of me. He had clearly already placed his order, but was busy rambling to the teenager behind the register about football or baseball or something. The young man nodded and smiled politely, saying nothing, while I waited the 10 or 12 seconds it took for the gray haired man to finish his point and move on.

As I moved to take my place at the head of the line, I gave the teenager a smile and sort of a knowing eye roll, acknowledging to him that we are on the same team. The Old People Are Weird Team1. However, instead of giving me a subtle signal in return—something in the form of a non-verbal yeah they are or you know it—the young man gave me the same polite smile and nod as the last customer. It occurred to me in that moment that for this young man, I have crossed the adult threshold, and there is a bright line between our generations.

This of course makes sense. This month I am officially 10 years out of high school, while I would put this kid at no more than 16, so we are nowhere near peers at this point in time. Still, actually being addressed with the respect—or maybe just the indulgence—that comes with age in real time was at once depressing and exhilarating. Many things at this exact point in my life are not going quite right, but it seems I can finally be sure that not many will mistake me for a teenager, and I'm going go ahead and consider that a step in the right direction.

1. 1. No disrespect, because I hope to be one someday, but they are. Weird.

If you have a complicated relationship with someone, an unexpected but pernicious reminder of this fact can be had, of all places, in the greeting card aisle. Here is a place where relationships are neatly divided and categorized, and none so much as in the birthday cards. There are cards for mothers and fathers, brother and sisters, and every other member of the family. There are cards for husbands and wives, and cards filed “Birthday with Romance” for that specific sentiment, when such heavy handed gems as, “It’s your birthday and I’m thinking of you... Naked”. There are “Birthday for Him” and “Birthday for Her”, some meant to be given to close friends and some meant to hand to someone in the office after the whole floor has signed it.

There is a card for everyone in your life that has a defined role, which often people do. People who you have fuzzy relationships with are either still on their way to being important enough to get a card, or on their way out of your life. In Greeting Card Land, someone is your friend, or they’re not. Someone is your boyfriend or fiance or husband, or they’re not. There is no birthday card for the man who you met when a new friend started dating him, the man who then drew you into a bizarre triangle where you provided all the abstract elements of a girlfriend—the long nights talking, the emotional support, the understanding—and the actual girlfriend bought the sex. There isn’t a card for this man who you threw yourself at while he was still dating your friend, and then again and again after they broke up, getting rejected each time. No card for someone who initiates deep kisses when they’re drunk, knowing full well your deep, abiding feelings, and then when you bring it up a day later abruptly changes the subject. There isn’t a card for the man who, despite rejecting you, expresses romantic feelings and actions to you constantly in the space of well over a year, orchestrating candle lit dinners, posing as your boyfriend at weddings, asking you to dance in bars and in his kitchen, insisting you stay over and sleep next to him, rubbing your shoulders when you don’t feel well. And there is not a good card for someone who, after being out of touch for months, starts a letter with “Jenna Baby,” and in the next sentence refers to you as his “dear old pal”. Read More »

So when taking Jessica home this morning, we saw a deer, like 30 feet up ahead with plenty of time to stop.

She starts talking about how they play a game in her family about pointing out deer, and then she says, “But the deer that you hit is the one you don't see. The one that jumps right out in front of you.”

So of course, on my way back, what jumps right into my path but a deer. Good thing I was going really slow and keeping a close watch. I slammed on the brakes and it trotted on across the road.

2½ feet away from something semi-serious happening, ya'll. My life is endlessly exciting.