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

This week saw the first real sign of spring here in the Classic City. The sun came out in earnest, the weather warmed, sunglasses became more of a necessity than a lazy fashion accessory. Most undesirable, allegies began acting up. But in any case, we were convinced that we were finally free of the harsh winter that had so far gone on to long, and a legion of sun worshipers made every excuse to be outside between hectic work schedules and being required to show up for class.

We had settled into the spring, and embraced the warmth with a whole heart, as you must do if you plan to reside in Georgia for any amount of time. We broke out the thin t-shirts, the cheap flip-flops, and retired our coats. Too eager were we to give up the cold, however, and today found many shivering against strong winds, unprepared in their light clothing, but refusing to give up what they had known for a few short days. Muscles tensed, compacted the bodies they belong to, trying despite their owners to warm.

Fuck January. This is the new year, and I for one am ready to throw myself headlong into it, if only it would come on with some sincerity.

• Thanks to a new more powerful server, I'm able to put more things on this page that scream Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!. A generation of livejournalers and myspacers rejoice. Everyone else gets nauseated.
• Sitting at a computer for fourteen hours a day of late has caused me to have scores of geeky nightmares, like the horror of command line errors in Unix, or a senario where Indiana Jones style spikey walls are coming at me from both sides while I try to restore a couple thousand backend applications in the space of five minutes. This is either a sign that I don't have any real problems to have nightmares about, or an indicator of serious, disturbing amounts of anxiety. I don't know that dreaming about error messages is supposed to make a person wake up in a cold sweat.
• I turned 23 this week. I celebrated in style with a very large posse at Barcode. I don't remember the last couple hours of the evening very well. I'm told that is what is supposed to happen on your birthday.
• I want summer. Badly. I want t-shirts, flip-flops, hot steamy days and cool balmy evenings. This winter, these past several months, have been some of the longest of my life.
• And now to bed. To bed I said.

I have this observation to make: November downtown at 1 AM without a liquor jacket is a TOTALLY DIFFERENT EXPERIENCE.

Good gawd, I've lost all feeling in my extremities. And not in that fun floaty way you're thinking of.

late afternoon phone call from a missed friend, sneaking off to go sit by myself on a park bench in the early evening, our beautiful April weather, painful unrequited lust, the “so messy it's punk rock-2 dozen bobby pin” hair style I've nearly perfected, excessive introspection

“I was thinking of trying to pack you up in my suitcase and bringing you to work.”, Jackson 5, the fact that I'm earning PTO, Nine Inch Nails, the idea of sunshine, “You're just so handy! Everyone needs a pocket Jenna!”

guests holed up with us during the ice “storm”, being told with alarming frequency that I look like I've lost weight, talking to Abie (because she makes me feel important), being able to drive again (got the busted window fixed finally), remembering once again what it's like to be broke and not minding as much as I should, finally any music I want to hear at any given time, all the time

I'm really frustrated with it going from t-shirt weather to freezing rain in less than a week.

There are eight people standing in my room right now, not including myself. It's like a sci-fi movie where it's the end of the world and we're the last people alive, and we have to stay together to live. Except, I'm fairly certain that none of us are secretly zombies and no one is going to have to eat anyone else to survive.

You know you are way too comfortable in your grown-upness when you proceed to get drunk with/in front of your father.

On Friday, the rock star played the big open mic finals at Washington Street Tavern, a place with cute bartenders and strong drinks.

You can see where this is leading.

My Dad was in attendance, and he had allowed a few other people to buy him drinks before I arrived at about 11:00. My favorite conversation of this evening? My Dad saw me pulling out my cash, counting and preparing to head to the bar. He looked at me like a six-year-old expectly naming off their birthday wishlist (let us not forget that my father doesn't drink often), a goofy, wide smile on his face.

“Jenna, I need another drink and I don't have any money.”

He shrugged innocently, the sappy grin still plastered to his face. I stared at him, dumbfounded. This was, in my tipsy father's eyes, a request to make the order more specific.

Giggling like a school girl, he offered, “I'd like a mixed drink, please.”

I relented. I do have some very favorable genetic material from this gentleman, afterall. “Long Island?”

“What's that?”

“It's what I'm getting, so it's what you're getting.”

“All right!” Dad laughed heartily.

I was on my second or third Long Island at that point. I had four or five before we left Washington Street. There are a few reasons for drinking that heavily, some of it needing to ignore things and people that are not going the way you want, some it it being a Friday following a long, exhausting week, but most of it being charming bartenders that wink at you coyly everytime you tip.

A couple other priceless father-daughter moments, both after all of my drinks had been consumed:

1. Dad, smiling uncomfortably: “Uh-oh, you just dropped the F-bomb in front of your father.”
   Me, too intoxicated to regulate: “Shit, I was hoping you'd be too drunk to notice!”
2. Dad, commenting on the 30 degree weather and the fact that I am only in a T-shirt: “Aren't you cold?”
   Me, smiling with delight: “I can't feel my fingers. I'm not worried about it.”

I know I went to the Grill with my father after that. I don't remember what we talked about.

I don't think I want to remember.

The beauty of Georgia. Not even a week ago it was snowing. Not even two days ago I had to keep my hands in my pockets to keep them freezing into chunks of ice and falling right off my arms.

Now I'm actually worried about being too warm. This place I live is so strange.

But good.

Hope the weather holds up, this is great birthday weather.

This is what my yard looks like right now. If you can't tell, that's all water. It's been raining non-stop all day, and it's been dusk since 2 o'clock this afternoon.

It's that funky end-of-the-world feeling.