I will leave you with this tonight, wherever you are…
Be bold
Be thankful
Be quiet
Be original
Be spontaneous
Be punctual
Be a star
Be young
Be loving
Be crazy
Be loud
Be random
Be adorable
Be unique
Be daring
Be obnoxious
Be yourself
—On the back of the card my mom sent me today
Freedoms
BOY SCOUT BAGGER (AGE 17): I can’t wait for supper, I haven’t eaten since 10:30a.m…(looks in fridge)G’D DAMMIT SOMEONE THREW OUT MY MAC AND CHEESE! G’D DAMMIT!
Me: Whoa. Are you sure?
BSB17: YES. G’D DAMMIT!!!
Later, after Boy Scout Bagger has settled down a bit…
BSB17: I drive a tank.
Me: What? You have your license?
BSB17: I have my permit…THE CLOSEST THING.
GRUMPY CASHIER: So who do you drive with?
BSB17: MY MOM.
GRUMPY CASHIER: So you ride your bike?
BSB17: NO. I drive a 2006 CHRYSLER TOWN & COUNTRY…BLUE!!!
GRUMPY CASHIER: (Laughs)
BSB17: YOU’RE JUST JEALOUS OF MY FREEDOMS!!
GRUMPY CASHIER: You have no freedoms.
BSB17: JUST BECAUSE I CAN’T BUY ALCOHOL OR TOBACCO OR VOTE AND PUT A TERRIBLE PRESIDENT IN CHARGE OF THE COUNTRY DOESN’T MEAN I DON’T HAVE FREEDOMS!! I DON’T PAY RENT OR TAXES SO I HAVE FREEDOM!
GRUMPY CASHIER: You’re in for a rude awakening.
––––––––––––––––––––
Somehow, the naiveness is refreshing.
Flight Path
I had a dream last night that my family went to Mexico:
Cancun.
Our connecting flight was in Sweden, or Finland, or somewhere Scandinavian. Don’t ask why. Everything was in a language I couldn’t read. While weaving through the airport to find our connecting gate, I decided to go off on my own.
I thought I could do it. I sat down near the gate, all alone. I thought I’d beat my family to the gate. I thought I had plenty of time.
Then, nothing seemed straight. Too much time passed, everything was very foreign, no one was familiar. I realized I was at the wrong gate, and I’d missed our flight.
I’ve had a sense of unease in dreams before, but this dream was interesting because I truly felt that I was at risk, and that I’d strangely, perpetually missed out on an experience.
Eventually I understood there was a way out, and I took the next available flight to Mexico. My family was there waiting for me, in our hotel by the ocean.
Right now I’m trying to remind myself that like a missed, albeit fictional flight to Mexico, everything is going to work itself out.
To talk of things…California things
Note: I wrote this during my first two weeks in San Francisco, 06.19.10. When I read this now, I can see in hindsight how truly scared and uncertain I was and the amount of courage I had to find within me during this time. The writing itself is incomplete—I’m not certain I knew how to clearly portray my thoughts of the time. Three months later I feel much the same as I’ve written, but with less fear…
Friends, family, whoever is reading this—
Life is interesting. Not because I’m doing interesting things (well, technically I am) or meeting strange folks (but there are plenty of those around here), but because I’ve decided I’ve made a mistake, and it’s a lovely mistake.
I had no real reason of coming here other than finding out what I really want. Every day I walk out the door of 922 Union, choose to walk straight up or roll down a hill, and meander. I rarely have a plan or a destination. I plan on the weather being unpredictable. I don’t plan on being approached or approaching, buying or losing anything. I wear my most comfortable shoes and I walk.
When I’m walking I wonder what’s going on back home, and if any of the people I’m passing can tell that I’m not from around here and never was. In my mind I teleport my best friends to be by my side, to drink coffee with and show all my new favorite streets, sit on the stinky bus with me, eat Thai food or grab a beer after sundown.
People say all the time that being in a city can make you feel more alone, and it’s sometimes true. But alone hasn’t met me yet, with all I’ve yet to meet and feel here. Some days or minutes I want to go home to feel home, when I’m weaving through crowds at crosswalks or wishing I had a companion. Right now I want to spend the rest of my twenties here, learning how life is conducted…
Still in High School Much?
OLDER GENTLEMAN (accompanied by wife): So, Jenny, are you in school?
ME: I am, yes
OG: Then why aren’t you in class right now? It’s Friday!
ME: I don’t have class on Fridays!
OG: Where do you go to school?
ME: I’m in my last year at MSUM.
OG: You’re a senior in college? Really. I thought you were 16.
A wise man once told me this…
…I sure hope so.
Letters to a Canine in the Sky
Dear Willow,
I’m going to make this snappy because I don’t know how well you can read, and I also know you’ve got more important things on your agenda (bone-digging, barking, scratching, sniffing, tail-chasing…you get the picture). What I’m trying to say is, you’re repaired now. You can pounce and prance in fields of Beggin’ Strips and pork chop rinds, and chase rabbits to your hearts’ content—and where you’re at, you’ll always catch them. There are never thunderstorms to scare you to sleepless nights. You don’t even have to beg, you can straight up eat anything. And there are walks—you’d better believe there are W-A-L-K-S!
More significantly, I’d like to thank you for being real. Yeah, you were a bitch sometimes, but that was just a front. You put up with the bad haircuts, the costumes, the days we left you for vacation. You smiled often and unintentionally. You had black lips…beautiful, fuzzy black lips.
You gave nearly 11 glorious years to Family Christen and everyone that knew you. Now I’m crying giant, salty tears onto my new laptop for you. You’re probably panting at me. It’s okay. It’s okay.
Stay fly, sweet lady. Your glory will resonate my whole life through.
Love your sister from another mister,
Jenny
Willow Maple Christen
10 January 2000 — 13 September 2010
May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind always be at your tail
May the sun shine warm upon your furry face,
and rains fall soft upon your whiskers.
And until we meet again,
May God hold your paw in the palm of His hand
Until we meet again…
BEHOLD: LIGHTROOM 3!
I received a sweet surprise this afternoon from my main squeeze—Lightroom 3! Very slick.
My Ecological Footprint
approximatelyes.com 