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

I drove away, looking up at the Cheshire Cat moon smiling down at me, wondering if I would see him again.

This is the thought I had, word for word, driving down the road on Sunday night. This writing thing is sort of a gift and a curse, because you often find yourself narrating your real life as it happens in bombastic and high-handed prose. Even the phrase “bombastic and high-handed” is fairly bombastic and high-handed. That whole sentence was like a snake swallowing its own tail.

The point is, I pretty much spend my whole day doing this, relaying this ongoing commentary back to myself, seeing the words appear before me like a close-up shot of a old fashioned type writer in action. I've been doing this my whole life, and while it has tapered back significantly in the past few years, it still happens a lot. Lately all I've been getting are turns of phrase like this one, barely fit for a bargain bin first novel.

However there is nothing of substance to write about lately. I'm working a ton, and I must admit it is a blast. At least once a day I'm typing or uploading or dragging-and-dropping and it just hits me like a freight train: I love what I do. There was a time when I thought I'd mostly be out of the web business by this age, but apparently I'm just getting started, and the extra cool thing is I'm really fucking good at it.

When I'm not working my brain spins overtime parsing this “he–loves–me / he–loves–me–not” drama, which is like something we've all seen on some network comedy somewhere, young career woman in city, focused on work but looking for love, with generous layers of sexual tension between her and the male lead. Except not as funny as that show you saw, and, unbelievably, more pathetic. They don't ultimately get together because he doesn't love her, and without the Ross and Rachael/Carrie and Mr. Big/Buffy and Angel on–again–off–again mess, the whole thing loses steam.

I'm trying to get that show canceled so I can move something else into that time. Maybe something educational. That would be good.

...why I do the things I do.

Like right now. I'm getting up early tomorrow, being a good art student and going outside in the morning light to work on my perspective drawing (the shadows will only be any good between about 10:00 and 11:30). I could've/should've gone to bed about an hour ago. But for whatever reason, I feel like I'm staying up just to be up.

Or in a broader sense, why am I in art school at all? Is it by default, because I can't come up with anything better? Am I supposed to be burning with a fiery unpredictable passion or is it really enough to just try and do good work?

My life lately is feeling like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books: When you start it seemless like there are endless possibilities but in reality your choices are limited and you always end up in the same place time after time.

Wow, I am so dating myself with that metaphor.

10. No time for poetry but exactly what is

Today I got to work mostly on time. Within half an hour. I began the day by heating instant oatmeal in the break room microwave, followed by spilling a full glass of water all over the break room floor.

Not the way I want to start my morning, crouching on the break room floor, cleaning up an ocean of cold, pure natural spring water.

The morning dragged on. I tried as best I could to be productive and stay awake. By 10 o'clock I had downed the two Dr. Peppers I had brought with me and was waiting for the pick-me-up they promised to bring.

"Sometimes, you have to call in the Doctor." Johnny said to me.

Eventually I clocked out and headed home for lunch. As I rode down the mirrored elevator I checked out my hair in my reflection, running my hands back through it and pondering on the fact that I was having a great hair day. My gaze slipped down to meet my own eyes and I could only think that I wished my eyes looked as lively as my hair, instead of looking so tired.

Getting off I almost smacked right into the TA for my Intro to New Media class. I gave gave him a cheerful "Hey" and it took my about 15 seconds to realize that even though I know exactly who he is, there are roughly 200 people in the class so he probably won't recognize me.

Also: I nearly smacked into him again on the way back up an hour later. No kidding.

Upon returning to work, I felt friskier, ready to do great things. I tackled several crazy things, and then came the thousands of Verisign incidents.

Well, it was actually about 15.

I was working on the last of these when my boss comes over and advises me to move on to Nicole's queue, because she has tons of Verisign incidents and she is not here today.

"Cool, I think I'm getting pretty good at them."

"Well Nicole is like the queen of them, so good luck."

I, of course, took this as a challenge, and proceeded to knock out all 35 some-odd incidents of hers. Then my boss complimented me on my speediness and dedication (not in so many words, it was more like, "Good job on those Verisigns :)" but I knew what he meant).

It's shaped up to be a pretty decent day, even after all the nearly streaking.

9. The unspeakable visions of the individual

People have spent a lot of time and energy these past couple of weeks convincing me of my important status in the world. And I just want to let you all know that even though I'm not a 100% yet, I'm feeling much better. I won't name names but you know who you are. Thank you.

Idol
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Also, I just find this very humorous. That's me, the perfect idol—it's a tough job but you need someone to look up too.

7. Blow as deep as you want to blow

"When I was a child
I spoke as a child
I understood as a child
I thought as a child;
but when I became a man,
I put away childish things."
      - 1 Corinthians 13:11

"When I was a child I spoke as a child
But all I heard was how I should get ahead,
Now growing up it ain't anything but all
This indecision with these debts and doubts
And worries hanging over my head"
      - Todd Snider

It makes me sad, but I am growing up.

True, I have more Homies than anyone in my office, marching in a line across my new desk. True, I have an application to date me which questions rival even the most snarky online dating service (By the way, Will is so in the lead right now). True, I sleep in what essentially is a glorified bunk bed decorated with rope light and stuffed animals.

But I wish so much for time to just slow down a little so I could drink and paint and sleep for days and not have to see anyone or pretend to be happy for everyone. Keeping secrets is exhausting.

6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind

School is now in full swing, so to speak. I've already had to say up way past my bedtime to finish a painting, so I think that pretty much counts as being in the thick of it. I am running on about 4 hours of sleep right now. It should be even less, but I slept too late to make it to my 9 o'clock class. Blast. I like that class a lot too.

Wednesdays are very stressful for me. I have 5 classes in total, including a couple of 2 hour art classes, followed by work. I ate at the Chick-fil-a Express at the Tate Center today, even though I'm still a few days away from be able to really afford it, because the classes before and after my lunch break are right there, and going home and coming back on time is somewhat of a chore, and I didn't have time to pack anything. I decided that I will make it my Wednesday treat from now on, since I can already tell that other than that brief respite Wednesdays are going to be hell on earth. So if anyone cares to join me at about 1:10 on Wednesdays the company will be most welcome.

My art stuff (my art box and giant portfolio bag) is somehow getting heavier and lighter at the same time. Mostly my fingers just hurt a lot, so maybe they are going numb. But I think after a semester of lugging this stuff all over campus, I'll be able to crush small cars with the power of my biceps, so that's a plus.

Things are going really well, and I should be happy. And I really am, mostly. But lately, sometimes I feel like I'm insane. And I think about the cure for the insanity, and the very thought of the cure makes the disease worse. Does that make any sense?

Maybe my Air Force buddy can sort it out for me.

5. Something that you feel will find its own form

I had my first real drawing class this morning. I realized that when you haven't really been doing this art thing for awhile, you forget how much you burn for it, how much you need it to feel like you are all there.

I think I'm gonna really dig this.

4. Be in love with yr life

I feel like a real artist again. I have pencils and charcoal and paper and erasers, and by this time tomorrow I should have brushes and paint and gesso and Bristol board, and it all comes in these neat little packages from the art store around the corner from my apartment.

Ok, so I'm starting to get excited.

3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house

So it's the first day of school again. I am sitting in the brand-spanking-new SLC. Normally I would barely be out of class at this point but that is the beauty of the first day; you go and introduce yourself and pick up some paperwork and then you leave! I've been to one two-hour art class and it lasted 20 minutes.

Mostly low stress. Except all the room numbers in the art building are freaking painted over so instead of walking into 126C I walked into 126B, which is an advanced painting class, and most certainly not Drawing I. Luckily I figured it out for myself when everyone seemed to know each other, bailed and walked next door. Hopefully no one will recognize me later.

There is one male in my class, besides the teacher, who seems nice enough. We got a supplies list, and they have a special Drawing I package at the art store behind my building, and you get 20% off when you buy everything all together. Nice.

Other than that it has been business as usual here at uga. Hopefully the rest of the day will go smoothly. I'll let you know.

{Also, Ben Brown is my freaking hero. He is so damn handy. He has been at my apartment twice this weekend solely for the purpose of doing some lite construction for me. Come visit to check it out. It is quite impressive.}

2. Submissive to everything, open, listening

The boys who have just moved in across the hall are very loud in their comings-and-goings. Last night they kept me up til about 3:45 this morning talking loudly with slurred words, right on the other side of a door in mine and Abie's room. I think Abie was spared most of the yelling and running and doors opening and slamming shut because she falls asleep much faster than I do. Lucky. I need to bring some testosterone infused people over here to intimidate these drunken louts. Maybe I could get Kyle to unleash the fury on their asses. That would be very gratifying.

I have been feeling kinda down about some things lately (as some of you know or at least have guessed—and it's actually branching out a little into crazy moodswings). This is mostly irrelevant for the purposes of these pages, except that if you'd like to make me feel better, go fill out my application to date me. (if you haven't already). It in no way constitutes any obligation to actually date me. I just like to read to the answers.

If you are in Winder, and you come to 106 West, I'll see you tonight!

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy