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

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 »

We do this every year. Frank, R-rated discussion of friends, drinking, sex, music, money, illness, politics, and many other subjects follow. If you are a sensitive, delicate flower, I suggest you go elsewhere. Particularly if you are over 50 (if you baby boomers proceed anyway, I'll bear no responsibility for possible heart attacks). Read More »

Seeing the Indian for three weekends in a row; Etta James live in concert; the OK Go treadmill dance; the OK Go Million Ways dance, getting most or all of my news from the show with zefrank; questions and answers on Consumating; watching Goodfellas on a loop; arguing the merits of the new My Chemical Romance record with Neil and CB; driving from point A to point B without my car breaking down (2 out of the last 6 trips. Could be worse).

A House Christmas Eve Tradition. Read More »

a marriage proposal, yelled from a block away by a sober person in midday downtown Athens; drunk dial from a hot friend; “what a sweet tart”; accidentally demonstrating on a night out that I am, in fact, scarily popular (or famous); “He's your boyfriend!” — “He is not my boyfriend!”; hate mail from HGB; Emily’s “title of the day” emails

My sister, the rock star, is in the red and black today. Read it and revel in her awesomeness.

Things have been mostly good, even if there has been almost nothing to write about. Work, school, work, school, the routine only sometimes punctuated with sleep, hanging out in bars, or watching The Sopranos on DVD. I am the busiest I have ever been, with three fifths of my weekdays beginning at 8 in the morning and ending at 8 in the evening. I feel myself aging at a rate much more rapid than just a couple of years ago, burning the candle at both ends, as it were. But rather than shrink back from the challenge I find myself stepping up, charging at the obstacle that can, at times, seem like a brick wall. (Going full speed all the time causes many periods of accidental and unplanned unconsciousness, a factor that sunk me last week, academia-wise.)

Sometimes I wonder if I've taken on too much, gotten in over my head, a thought hastened by the naysayers (I shall not name names) who insist I can't keep up this speed for 3 to 4 more years, who grimace and give me looks and tones that say what the hell have you done? I smile sweetly I say that I'm certain that I can handle it, and privately I regard the whole situation as a trial by fire or a rite of passage, ultimately a pathway to some semblance of self-respect.

I also try to constantly remind myself that I could be working much, much harder with the payoff being much, much less.

In the meantime, I (usually) have weekends as a reprieve from all the madness. This weekend I saw a lot of people and consumed a whole lot of whiskey. Friday night found me drinking with my co-workers, which, besides yielding many free drinks also ended with me walking home with two roses purchased for me (from the “rose lady” that most Athenians are familiar with) by two of the aforementioned co-workers.

Saturday night I went to Sarah's show at DT's. A coworker of Sarah's was sitting with my parents, and just before introducing himself (Chris, a lovely doctoral student who was pleasantly fresh with me throughout the evening) gave up his own seat for me. As we shook hands, leaning in to hear names over the music, he looked at me agape and exclaimed, “You smell—You smell AWESOME.” I grinned and blushed like a schoolgirl. That was possibly the highlight of my interactions that evening, excepting my phone conversation with HGB, which is always a pleasure all it's own.

I used to spend a lot of my meetings watching Neil draw things like this:

I love those guys.

Also, they are both way more attractive than this.

studying my cashflow forecast, looking for expenses to cut; planning my 401(k); planning to move; productivity system planning (with GTD); playing a lot of Sims 2; my diy hipster pda; Pac-man with sparklers; being begged for my attendance to a party; being forced to act my age (which is still quite young); a new hat; weighing much less (with clothes on and pockets filled) than I did a month ago (naked); my tried-and-true-til-the-end relationship with CB; being able to count on some friends even though you rarely even speak to them; being randomly checked up on by Neil; a good cry; the systematic purging of all the crap in my old room at my parent's; knowing that when I think that all hope is lost, I can count on my sisters

attempting and succeeding at chocolate chip pancakes; a hard-earned fatigue; a new puppy; waking up to my iTunesAlarm well before the buzzer goes off; hope; having somewhere to be first thing in the morning (no, really!); My Chemical Romance (I've listened to their single, Helena, 72 times in three days); being at my lowest weight in at least 4 years

apartment hunting, getting drunk on tequila on Cinco de Mayo with my boyz, mentally inventorying and organizing most of my stuff to prepare for moving (even though it not for at least two months, I just get off on being organized), I should go spend it all on bitches and crack. Who's with me?!, Don't get me wrong: I loves me some cleavage, fact checking is for suckers, He changed our diapers while wearing a hazmat suit., being allowed to use the word ‘crunk’ any damn time I want to, Sam (who, by the way, is simply jealous that he will never even on a good day be as crunk as me!) Link me up when you take a screenshot, kiddo.