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Welp. Here goes nothing – a day of production in the loving arms of the library, chained to a seat with nary a sign of food nor companionship.

There’s a thermostat behind me that I’m unable to adjust. It’s killing me because I didn’t wear socks today and I’m freezing my hiney off. Smooth.

I downed one paper already, high five for that. There are about a million things that I could and would rather be doing right now, first on the list laying in bed stuffing my face with cereal while watching the History Channel. That seems to be my favorite activity as of late. In addition to that, I wouldn’t mind cleaning my room, for the state of cleanliness that my room is in oft has a direct connection to my frame of mind and today, I’d like pure intellect.

I traveled the state this weekend and saw my family – a relief of sorts. There are few, if any other things that can make me such as happy in the particular way that my family does. My mother bought me shoes and Godiva chocolate, while Father gave me a comforting pat on the back and 3/4 hug. That’s how we show one another affection, but it’s completely understood.

Alas, blueberry pancakes at 2am cap off a Saturday night/Sunday morn, best friends sharing a booth and recalling the days when they inhabited a dorm room in the shape of a slice of pie.

In closing, a quote stamped on a magnet I bought yesterday:

This essentially sums up a lot about me, I believe.

Good’ay –
jc

If, and when, and if you ever read this…

I want you to know that I’d like to be your friend. Staying home on the weekends is lifeless, eating dinner with the same individual has become tedious. I want to be a part of something new. I’m not as indifferent as I come across. Honest.

I have nearly everything in the world going for me, but nearly all of it feels consistently marred by forlorn. A group of friends, a staff, a school – I don’t feel much a part of anything. It’s not that I don’t want to, don’t get me wrong. I’d give anything to.

I see these people every day. They haven’t the slightest clue.

If, and when, and if you read this …

Well, we’ll see.

While venturing west to the great city of Bismarck, North Dakota, somehow in great confusion I seemed to have taken a wrong turn and ended up in Minot.

The framework of my current setting is absolutely Utopian.

Near a window I sit, uninterrupted. The panes of glass stretch upward of 10 feet and outside, the snow is falling in perfect rhythm. There isn’t a lone soul breathing down my neck, or blathering my ear off. There are no jarring fluorescent lights overhead to kill the natural ambience.

There are only several, who are going about their day such as I am, sitting in their own little spheres by the window. There is a cup of mocha, and a computer with half battery life to get me through this fleeting tranquility. There is a man sitting across from me, puckering his lips as he licks the food off his fingers. This should bother me, but today it simply doesn’t. This moment is wonderful.

I feel somewhat inspired by it all. The snow, the windows, the serenity I so rarely come across. I’ve grown weary, somewhat exhausted of writing in the corner of my room. It has become such a place that is so draining and unstimulating, its inspiration stretched and reworked to the point of expiration. I’ve taken pictures of every corner of it, assessed every object. I need to explore more, I need to get out.

In my photo class we watched a documentary on Ansel Adams. I had surely seen his work before and heard of him, but had never known his story. Call me fragile, dramatic, or what have you, but his story truly moved me to the point I felt overcome with great emotion. He was such a vigorous, hardworking and devoted artist driven by his surroundings and the yearning to convey them just as they were: beautiful. He never took a day off. He traveled, he studied, he conquered. He was candidly brilliant and his work, though absolutely immaculate, doesn’t even begin to prove it. He was a genius.

Wow.

It’s still snowing, only now the caretaker has moved in on his floor cleaning machine, and the fluorescent lights have been set overhead, adding forgery to the atmosphere.

The transient serenity has passed, the moment of reflection over; time to pack up and carry on.

I am skipping right now.

Not skipping, as in engaging in the upward-downward raising of the knees activity done so gleefully. I am, in fact, skipping class.

It is a nail in my coffin, most probably, but I’m not concerned. I feel so unsure of myself in every aspect at the moment. With all that is on my mind, I find it completely senseless to sit in a classroom and stare at a computer screen while undoubtedly furthering my vision impairment just to learn a trick or two about creating layers in InDesign.

I am completely aware that my attitude is less than sufficient right now. I am coming to a point, however, where my submissiveness is subsiding and all indignant matter is surfacing. I am plagued by passiveness and have become unassertive to the point that all that bothers me has been accepted as the facts of life. The fact is, things don’t have to be this way.

I’ve been irked! I’ve waited for one call too many, hypocritically speaking. I am a mouse mislaid in a labyrinth that is the department I’ve come to loathe. My over-analyzation is taking it’s toll. I’m not pushing myself to a potential I know I have. I can do so many amazing things if I’d only do them wholeheartedly. I can’t remember the last time I relaxed, despite repeated urgings to.

I see myself as an independent, but not strong, person. And what is one without the other, really? A person, standing alone in a state of diffidence and the serendipity of crumbling at any. Given. Moment.

I am skipping. Still.

You know what was really magnificent about today?

I grabbed a copy of the school newspaper, The Advocate, and after half-heartedly skimming the front page, tossed the paper open to reveal…

…my very first published photograph. Right there, on top of page two.

And underneath, it read: JENNY CHRISTEN / THE ADVOCATE.

At that moment I didn’t really care that it was 20 below outside, or that I’d lost every single document that I’d created this semester on my brand new flash drive that I mistakingly left in the library.

None of it mattered. I had a picture right there, in black and white with my name under it, and all at once, everything was more than fine. My best friend and I went to the Olive Garden in commemoration and ate a big, fat piece of raspberry cheesecake.

Not to mention, I put a down payment on my apartment for next year! Hooray! More celebration ensued.

I think it’s going to hit me tomorrow that my flash drive is gone. Yuck. End of celebration, back to reality.

Happy trails,
jc