Author: approximately

Do you like turkey? Do you like families? Do you like families that like turkey?

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HOW COULD I FORGET? I am going/coming home tomorrow for the Thanksgiving festivities. According to my mom’s count, it’s been exactly 100 days! 

My mom is really hoping that I’ll bring someone home with me — a male, preferably. In fact, she was talking on the phone the other day to a guy friend of mine and invited him to join my family for dinner. When he declined, she implied that I find someone else. Something tells me that I could pick a bum or two off of Broadway and bring them home to share a meal with the Christen family, but I’m not sure that’s who she had in mind. Unfortunately for her it’s looking like another year that I sit at the table and make believe that the seat next to me is occupied by Nigel Barker. Or a supernerd for that matter.
So the offer stands — if you need a place to consume Thanksgiving dinner at, my mom wants you. Not literally, just…well, literally. If I haven’t convinced you yet, there is guaranteed to be an overabundance of rhubarb pie, bagpipe music, my grandma singing to the bagpipe music, and possibly a Scrabble tournament. No canned cranberries, no circle of feelings, bathroom accessible, and minimal awkwardness! Pretty sweet deal!
Now accepting applications for my Thanksgiving boyfriend! AAAAALLLLLLLRIGHHT!

I am Jane McDesperate, hear me whine!

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I AM DISTRAUGHT. I’ve searched up and down this campus, left and right even. I’ve retraced my steps, I’ve added and subtracted the probability that I ate it or flushed it down the toilet. I’ve interviewed strangers, scanned bathroom stalls and kitchen sinks. I’ve looked under my bed, I’ve searched my hair. Nothing.

This is inconvenient, to say the least. I feel like the helpless, hypocritical soul that posts a group on Facebook asking for numbers; I never cared much about those groups or their problems until now, when the problem is on me. All of those times I’ve rolled my eyes at Jane McDesperate who created the *~LoSt mY pHoNe BiTcHes! NeEd Ur NuMbErS!!!~* group, all those times I laughed, well…I’m not laughing now. Not even kind of.
I have probable reason to believe that it was taken from some location at some time I am not fully aware of yet. Reasons being: 1) I have always given my phone a good home, a charger to plug in to, and plenty of talk time. It really has no reason to run away. 2) That thing is velcroed to my palm. I don’t see it escaping me too easily. 3) Who wouldn’t want a phone that has Pizza Patrol on speed dial?
It’s not in the car, it’s not in the oven, it’s not between the couch cushions. Maybe I’ll check my hair again.
If I were my phone, where would I be?

MIA

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SOMETIME BETWEEN 2:00 and PRESENT, I misplaced my cellphone and iPod.

If you happen to be the happy-go-lucky one to come across these two items, I’ll be the first to tell you that I don’t listen to good music and my phone is a piece of junk. You don’t want them. (You really do, but I need them more.)
But seriously. There is a handsome reward. (Not really, because in the words of Dwight K. Schrute, whoever returns them is obviously the one who stole them.)
xo
jc

Translation

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Hey you, 

Ms. Honeyweiss, Mr. Bud Light
Dr. Discover Card, Menards employee
Newcomer, pillaging pundit 

Mrs. Kid’s Meal.
I want to be in your booth
Opposite, discoursing 
Bite after bite after
Sitting, drinking slowly
Mr. and Ms. consuming their worries.
• • •
“Hi! How are you guys doing tonight? Good! My name is Jenny, and I’ll be your server. Have you been here before? Yes? Wonderful. What can I bring you to drink? Pepsi? Iced Tea? Lemonade?”
EQUALS
“Hey there folks, I know you guys are doing awesome so let’s cut the small talk. I’m Jenny — not Jennifer, not “Hey you” and certainly not “Little Girl” — and basically I’m working here so I can afford to go to Starbucks eight times a week and shop at the Gap. I’m sure you’ve all been here a thousand times, that’s what they all say, yadda yadda yadda good for you. That doesn’t entitle you to get up from your seats while I’m still talking to you, telling you what your choices of soup and salad are. Let me know if you want anything repeated because you’re not listening to me, let me know if you want anything repeated because you’re not listening to me. Please. So how about beverages! A few suggestions, don’t order Coke because I won’t get it for you, don’t order alcohol because I’m not old enough to pour it, don’t ask for a Cherry Pepsi because it’s a pain in the ass for me to mix one up, and don’t order sake because I don’t know how the hell anyone can drink that godawful rice wine crap. How about you all order Mountain Dews and drink them niiiice and sloooow? YES? I’ll forewarn you, I’m going to ask you later if you want dessert — please try to act amused, I’m only hoping you’ll fill out a nice comment card for me. Also, if at any point I should force a laugh during our encounter this evening, it’s not because I want a tip, it’s because you’re actually the friendliest person I’ve come across all night. Please refrain from using that “If I eat any more, you’ll have to roll me out of here in a wheelbarrow!” line upon the completion of your meal. I’ve become completely immune to it’s comical aspect. Anyway, help yourselves to the grill when you feel so inclined, you filthy animals! If you need me to clear away your slimy plates or pig slop, make you laugh, or wipe your asses, I’ll be in the back putting away dishes and listening to the dishwasher talk about her graveyard shifts at McDonald’s. For the record, I am counting the hours until I can go home to sit on my ass and stuff my face with cereal. Say, can I sit down with you guys?”
If you could only hear the voices inside my head…

For future reference

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Desires.

A continuous and reliable income without a steady occupation. To relax my body’s every muscle, to perceive the placidity throughout every joint and in every speck of thought. To hold a hand, to hug another, to be kissed unexpectedly, passionately, or both. To feel winsome, to feel bold. To reignite friendships old, to become new again to both myself and to others. To discover the truly viable aspirations within me, to set forth and live them with virtue and spirit. To be remarkable.

Fears.
Losing faith in mankind, fearing God almighty, and losing faith in God. Colliding with another vehicle. Wasting my youth dwelling on mistakes, mistaking my youth as being completed. Disappointing my family. Comparison to others will be the death of me. That I am not deserving of my best friends. Never knowing, never meeting, never truly living.
Accomplishments.
Two+ years of higher education. Improved study habits, more direction. Taking steps toward studying abroad. Saving money, incorporating positive thoughts into negative situations, accepting my curly hair. 
Goals.
To offer myself to others, to open up, to relax. To take photos on another continent. To let others know what they mean to me. To travel somewhere without a plan or reason, to embrace the sensation that is life and all of its grandeur. To write more frequently, to be as selfless as my mother. To ascertain what I deserve in every facet of life and never settle for less.  
Signed:
jmc
22 Nov 2008

I can’t wait.

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I got Thanksgiving weekend off, which is good. So why I am I not excited? I’ll have to work Christmas instead.

My job is really wearing down on me. It sickens me to go to work some days, to stand in the back room when I arrive and before the dinner rush flows in, think of all of the people and their food I am about to encounter. It’s sick.
There’s contests I can’t win because of advantages given to other employees. There’s tables I can’t wait on, a larger section that I can’t have because I don’t flirt with the GM. There’s the many employees I can’t hang out with because of the excessive drama in their lives. And of course, there’s the food I don’t enjoy anymore because I’ve seen it in so many mutilated, slimy combinations.
I believe I am a hard worker, and can suffice in many environments. I also believe, there must be one more adequate for me than this. There must be something else.
The only person that can take action and change this situation is myself, and right now I can’t change because I don’t know how, I don’t know where. I need a job to save money for Europe, yet I don’t know how many places would hire me if they knew that come March, I’ll need a couple of months off. 
I am a rock, stuck in a tight place. There must be a way to wiggle myself out.

Happy Time Childhood Music Day!

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BEFORE THE DAYS that I discovered the Hanson brothers (who still occupy a large space of my heart) and Spice Girls (who encouraged me to “Spice up my life”) I was kept company by the heterogenous sounds of my parents’ musical choices, the bebop and bliss that rolled through the speakers of our 90’s boombox.

These were good times — pleasant, happy, zestful with the thrills of dizzying through the living room or laying breathless on the floor. Our dance was usually exhausting, and it is now occurring that my mother might have planned it that way. Other times the music was tranquilizing, like John Denver coming from Dad’s tape player.
Nostalgia to my ears.