Where are you …
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Amen, brother.
Anyone who lives within their means, suffers from a serious lack of imagination.
[Oscar Wilde]
A waste of makeup.
FRIDAY NIGHT.
I sit in my room solitary at the moment. The hallways that once buzzed with blow dryers and gossip alike are now silenced, and the only commotion comes from the soft hums of my heater.
It’s a typical Friday night, for the most part. Wild times are few and far between and I’ve come to accept this lifestyle, though it essentially brings me little fulfillment; this is how it is and shall be. I suppose it’s because I’m really not sure where to go from here, honestly.
Options are slim at the moment, but the evening has potential to be filled with such outlandish events as folding my laundry, making my bed, Photoshopping, or staring at my phone. Possibly all of the above, but likely none of the above – I’ll probably just sit here and eat chocolate (not complaining).
Likely there is a party somewhere on campus that I could wriggle my way into, a person that I could sit down and have a conversation with, or a car that I could drive to an offset destination and sustain a less-than charming night. Wherever said parties and people exist, I can find entirely no motivation tonight to seek them out. My car, on the other hand, is a rimy mass of steel sitting in a distant parking lot that I dare not venture to at the freezing moment.
As for now I will curl up into a massive fluff of goosedown comforter and watch what’s good on the telly. And eat chocolate.
You’re welcome.
I Want To Tell You
Dear Friend,
I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but there’s a day for everything. Today is the day that I tell you, friend, that you mean the world to me.
I’m sure you must have realized by now, and if not then today’s the day I hope you do. You’ve changed my views, you’ve changed my ways, you’ve brought meaning to incomprehensible days. You’ve consistently pointed me in a positive direction and given me nothing but the best in every situation. You’ve lent me your ears through hours of frustrations and painstakingly watched me make a thousand mistakes proceeded by a million regrets. Through countless faults and unkept pledges, not once did you say, “I told you so.”
As hard as I try, I really lack the words to compliment you. You are brilliant, a truly adept individual. You’ve taught me more in one year than an institution could teach me in fifteen. You give, and give, and give and never expect in return. Please know, you are sincerely fantastic.
I constantly find myself telling others your story; you are too great a person to keep to one’s self. It is a companion like you that each person should keep close, and friend, I’m not quite sure how I became so fortunate.
Someday, friend, we’ll look back at our adventures and realize that opportunities such as those may never come along again. It is then we’ll be thankful that we drove those miles, and saw those buildings, took those pictures, and had those moments. Honestly, friend, I wouldn’t exchange them for the universe. I really wouldn’t.
Thank you. Thank you a thousand, a thousand million times over for refining my world and bringing out the best in me. You’re real, and I can honestly say ‘I miss you’ and mean it. I can honestly say, I would not be me without you.
I love you, friend. Please know.
Muchlove,
Jenny
Busted!
Today on Mythbusters, the infamous “Five Second Rule” was disproved. I also learned that dogs’ mouths are, in fact, cleaner than ours.
Thank you, Discovery Channel!
[Sidenote: Apologies for the frequent DC references however, life has been somewhat uneventful lately. More excitement to come soon!]
Happy trails!
jc
A Swing @ Unsolved History
I watched a really interesting special on The Discovery Channel today, a program titled, “JFK: Beyond the Magic Bullet”. In attempt to clarify the controversy around President John F. Kennedy’s assassination, a bevy of forensic specialists, scientists, and experts of many fields which I cannot pronounce studied every aspect of the conspiracy theories linked to JFK’s death.
Generally I don’t watch television, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of this program. The story explained the surmise behind a so-called “Magic Bullet” fired in 1963 by Lee Harvey Oswald from the sixth floor of a book depository warehouse in Dallas. The bullet evidently passed through President Kennedy’s neck, Governor Connally’s (seated in front of him) chest and wrist and embedded itself in the Governor’s thigh. In doing so, the bullet journeyed through 15 layers of clothing, 7 layers of skin, approximately 15 inches of tissue, struck a tie knot, removed 4 inches of rib and shattered a radius bone – a very unfortunately impressive shot. The question of whether or not Oswald acted alone seemed unresolved, and these “Unsolved History” geniuses were insistent on setting things straight. It’s a story heard a thousand times over, no doubt, but I had to know what “really” went on.
So I watched the entire program, and naturally felt somewhat less and, at the same time more intelligent at the end of it. Less because of the absolutely ridiculously intelligent people on this special that used absolutely unthinkable gadgets and knowledge to support their hypothesis, and more because, well, I felt slightly more fulfilled after watching it than when I watch TLC’s ‘What Not To Wear’ (though, still one of my favorite shows!).
I learned in the end that according to these proclaimed intellectuals and the outrageous and “accurate” simulations of the incident that they performed, it is very well possible that a single bullet fired by one Mr. Oswald could have inflicted all said wounds that day.
Phew.
And with that, my friends, my moment of being Ms. Historybuff or what-have-you shall end. I do not state the facts, just merely relay them as heard from my friends at The Discovery Channel (whom I might be spending more time with now that I realize the power of their intellect). Sincere apologies if some information has been misconstrued.
Back to Media Writing Land on the 4th floor of the Livingston Lord Library I shall trek, for there are bigger fish that I must fry.
: )
Love to all –
jc
Programming Provided In Part By…
AS PART OF MY JOB DESCRIPTION AS A RESIDENT ASSISTANT, I am required to put on and/or persuade my ladies to attend eight programs each semester.
I was seriously lacking on the ideas, so toward the end of last semester I approached my sister (or rather gave her a jingle, as she lives several states away) who gave me a most novel and outrageous program proposal.
“No way,” I said – but I loved it.
She further sold me on her proposition by offering to throw in prizes for the winners, something that has always troubled me in the past as one of those cliché “poor college students” that you hear so much about. I have fourteen boxes of cereal and $10 worth of oranges in my refrigerator, and yet I still fall under the “poor college student” classification. What gives? I can’t afford prizes (that is unless my ladies don’t mind Princess sets from the Dollar Tree).
So what is this grand scheme, you ask?
I like to refer to it as “Januhairy”. It is exactly what it sounds like: a survival of the few, the proud, the ladies who can go the longest without trimming their leg hair. While I am absolutely convinced that 99.0% of those reading this find the whole concept completely atrocious, bear with me here (no pun intended). I can find several bona fide rationales: It’s winter, 84% of us don’t have boyfriends (or anything else that would conceivably be stroking our limbs), and dangit, Cyndi Lauper said it best: Girls just wanna have fun.
I’m hoping, with any luck, that my ladies can hold out for the remainder of the month and we can extend our little plan of action into “Febuhairy”; it is unlikely that anyone will survive until March … which is alright, since I’m not certain how to tack the “-hairy” suffix onto the word “March” (Marchairy?).
If you are indeed interested in taking part in these events, please come and do so – there will be weekly checkups to see who’s “in”. A word of warning, I will be participating and plan on taking the working-out-in-sweatpants, wearing-tights-with-skirts route for the remainder of winter. You’ve been warned.
Let the games begin!
jc
Contradicting As "Reality TV"
(Preface: Today’s Flickr greeting: Szia, the Hungarian word for ‘hello’).
Szia!
This coming Tuesday I will be giving my first speech of the semester, an impromptu on a fellow classmate.
In a classroom full of first-day anxiety and foreign faces, the girl sitting next to me hesitantly turned and in a most antsy fashion inquired, “Would you … like … to be my … partner?”
Well, I couldn’t say no to that. We quickly began exchanging information, nervous laughs, and meaningless stories.
“What genres of music do you listen to?” she asked.
In my head I scrolled down the list of artists in my iTunes library; possibly the most eclectic assortment of music in the history of collections of musical tunes. Where do you begin with this question?
“Well,” I started, then remembered a funny sequence that I had once noticed on my list of artists. Among the artists beginning with the letter ‘L’ lay the most peculiar combination, so I told her,
“I listen to everything from Ludacris to Ludwig van Beethoven.”
Is this really information that I want a class knowing? But really, where do I draw the line? Do I tell them that I am infamous for having a terrible driving record (only to risk them ever riding with me again), or that I cry during the movie Rudy, or sing distasteful, unmentionable songs in an other-worldly off-key voice while alone in a vehicle? What information, exactly, can one consider “safe”?
Unanimously I came to what I figure is the most guarded, logic decision: to tell the class a series of lies (white ones, mind you) about my hobbies, interests, and the like. Why tell them my real interests and hobbies (writing, photo-ing, thrifting, creating, adventuring, exercising, designing, staying up late, doing laundry, and studying Japanese street fashion) when fudging them a tad (playing with lightsabers, sychronized swimming, doing my laundry, spoiling my grandchildren, jazzer-cising, Tivo-ing, participating in eating contests, etc.) would bring other’s perception of me from “lame” to “a dull roar”.
I guess the only real question remaining is, does one risk their grade over a string of fibs? Or more importantly, does one jeopardize their pride for the sake of allure and excitement?
Yes, one does.
LOSER 110: Intro to Life
I am uncertain whether or not today could have been any more uneventful.
Classes began – naturally, they were completely inevitable. I was somewhat looking forward to this afternoon when my transition from a frustrated, procrastinating and underachieving aspiring artist to the oblivious and vast mass communications department would be complete.
It goes without saying that I was utterly skittish about the whole ordeal. My first and only class of the day, Intro to Photography, wasn’t slated to start until 3pm, which feels like 9am on my watch (for those unaware, I am an avid insomniac). I thought that awakening at noon and killing a few hours before class would be a piece of cake.
Wrong.
I roamed campus, bewildered and without direction. My senses innately led me to the Center for the Arts, my former stomping grounds, and I immediately felt at ease. It was in this familiar building that I had spent hours upon nights upon weekends hunkered over an easel and relentlessly working and reworking pastels, ink, conté, watercolor, and pencils. The computer labs, the ones with which I’d grown so jaded as I put the finishing touches on a graphic design assignment at 5am, suddenly didn’t seem so lackluster.
I ran into a friend, one that I’ve had many, many courses with over these past few semesters. She brought it to my immediate attention that I looked exhausted (not one of my favorite things to hear, but I cannot deny), and so at once I set off to the corporate coffee monster, none other than Starbucks (are they in the dictionary yet?) and promptly ordered a tall Chai Latte. As I mistakingly walked away with a mammoth Venti-sized drink (a completely ridiculous and unnecessary amount of coffee in my book), the only thought crossing my mind was, “I wonder how completely unwieldy I look carrying this epic drink.” It was, indeed, nearly bigger than I.
Ages and evermore later, three o’clock rolled around and I assumed my position in said Intro to Photography class. I thought it clever to arrive five minutes early in order to claim a seat; apparently, I wasn’t the only one with this bright idea. By the time I entered, each and every computer was occupied and I found myself somewhat of a wallflower in the back of the room (surprising, I know!). I frantically scanned the room for any sort of familiarity, but the closest I came to knowing anything were the Apple computers (and a girl I’d had a class with my first semester of college, but even she denied our former company). A Macintosh! My friends, I’d never been so relieved.
The room was insipid and dreadfully uninspiring. Compared to the art and design rooms, the classroom was about as pleasing as watching paint dry. The few tacks on the wall to hold future prints were about as exciting as it got.
SLR, rangefinder, twin lens reflex, view camera. Shutter speed, aperture, ISO – compared to the classroom, the students, and the instructor, the material spoke volumes and gained my undivided attention. I want to learn.
New adventures to come tomorrow, beginning with the much-dreaded Speech course. Yuck.
Computer friendly,
jc
Cleansed
Well, here I am. Alas, a clean slate!
A best friend once enlightened me with this quote by Albert Einstein:
“Great spirits will always have violent opposition from mediocre minds.”
This stands as a reminder to take every bit of negativity as a grain of salt, keep my head up, and march forward each day with the dreams and positivity that I deserve to live.
And so, new beginnings are upon me and I am destined to be born into a new life, one that I’ve sought for a while now.
Life is and will continue to be wonderful, if I can only keep on believing.
Welcome to my new blog, friends.
Fresh beginnings,
Jenny
approximatelyes.com 