bite-sized thoughts

It's graduation season. I had mentally outlined a themed post accordingly, all Baz Luhrmann and Green Day lyrics, et cetera, but the truth? I don't know shit about shit. Not being self-deprecating, but the best lesson I've learned in three years is realizing how much I still don't know, and more importantly, being okay with that fact. I recognize that my opinion and a dime leaves you with ten cents, so here's my brief advice; Do it. Whatever it is, nut up and go for it. Move, love, travel, teach, explore, create, and from maybe from time to time simply exist. But whatever it is, do it because it speaks to your soul.

(Also, read this post from Coke Talk and take it to heart, particularly the difference between self-exploration and self-indulgence).

And that's all I have on that topic. Go forth and be awesome.

In completely unrelated news, if you ever leave a massive pile of discarded clothing on a dressing room floor I will come to your place of employment and defecate in/on/around your workspace. That is my fair warning now that I'm back in the retail world.

Lastly, upon visiting this weekend my sixty-nine year old grandmother made a beaver joke. Straight-up double entendre regarding the irony of my chosen stuffed bedfellow and my avoidance of vagina.

I was never the kid that wondered if he was adopted. I clearly belong with the crazies.

And I have to be to work in not-too-many hours, so off to bed with me.
But seriously about the clothes....it's just unnecessary. Goddamn.

-J

objects in mirror are closer than they appear

As if this shit-sundae of a day needed a bright red cherry on top, my driver's side mirror is no longer a virgin. She was defiled by the post at the top of the driveway, an innocent bystander wounded by my apparent inability to grasp spacial relations.

dejected penguin has a case of the Mondays

I was dead-set against taking any laps in the pity pool today, though I woke up ready to dive in. Instead I went for a run in the rain. I grocery-shopped. I laundered and bill-paid and cooked and cleaned, not worried about idle hands but more the idle mind. The little train that could was chugging along, until I heard the sickening crunch of an errant estimation.

This is why we can't have nice things.

Poor Fergie the Focus. She made it three years without so much as a scratch, and now I don't even get the temporary relief of someone else to blame. The glass isn't cracked and the whole apparatus is still attached, so a trip to the scrap yard is not in her near future. It's just that hindsight is important; it keeps us aware of our surroundings and on the right path. The last thing I needed was a fresh reason to second-guess my judgment, on the road or otherwise. But to steal a Seuss-quote (that I will ALWAYS equate with a certain best friend) -

Why decry a cloudy sky,
an empty purse,
a crazy universe?
My philosophy is simply,
things could be worse.

-J

never make design choices while in the sauce

Ohhhhhhhh this is terribly over the top in the best way possible:

via

I want it poster-sized in my eventual abode. Well, not for always. Let's be realistic. I would not host brunch for the Kennedy's with this over the serving set. But ya know....time and a place. Regardless, I want magic tracked all over my house.

role models

I know I keep writing about the damn grocery store....but really it's the most happening place in this town. As I'm rounding the corner on the booze aisle, I overhear:

"I'm gonna go ahead and get two or three bottles of wine for me...I mean, since we're here."

Holy hell...this is a win on so many levels. This woman is a WASPy poster-child: probably a mid-level executive, blond hair with a hint of roots, suede blazer, I'd guess an overpriced faux-SUV in the parking lot. Her man friend, also without wedding ring, is in loafers, no socks. Notice how she jumps straight to two or three...one bottle is for beginners. Also, for ME....as in, if you think you're going to have even the slightest urge to fuck tonight, my eyes are going to need to be floating in chardonnay. But my favorite part? "I mean, since we're here." HAHAHA. Right. Like you're doing everyone a huge favor by being so thoughtful as to plan ahead. God forbid you run out.

This woman was undeniably pure gold. I hope I run into her again.

Also, if you've put two and two together and realized I was by myself in the liquor aisle at 6pm on a Saturday night, feel free to lick my tits. Sometimes you have to make your own entertainment, alright?

Happy Saturday. Bottoms up.

-J

Jane, you ignorant slut*

I'm far too bored lately to only use this for posts of quasi-substance. Plus el bloggo has been a bit on the heavy side as of late. That being said, my current thought for this blustery Wednesday afternoon:

Is it weird that I want to make out with Seth Meyers, but only when he's doing Weekend Update on SNL?

Don't feel obligated to respond....I think I already know the answer.


May all your mid-week celebrity fantasies come true -

J


*It's a very old SNL reference. If you didn't get it, our friendship is on the rocks.

enough is enough; or, how may I service you?

I am employed. Commence excitement.

we're both so happy we could shit

It says a lot about my life that I reacted to the offer of part-time retail work as though the position came with unlimited travel, the Nobel Prize, and free sexual favors in the break room. It has none of those things. It does provide a name tag, a time clock, and the ever-present membership card that I must offer as the very thing to fill that inexplicable void in your life. In essence it's the exact same job I had at sixteen, just hocking a different sort of wares. Nothing flashy. Nothing fancy.

And I couldn't be happier.

I'm finally to the point where I care significantly less about being impressive, and goddamn it feels good. I can't proclaim to not care at all. That would be an exaggeration. But I'm 24, living in a garage, working part-time, and I can't help feeling like I'm getting somewhere special, in that "not all progress involves forward movement" sense.

You don't have to agree with me, obviously. But cards on the table? I feel like a majority of people in their 20's just fall in line with what we're told to do by the omniscient force that is society. You get a degree or two, start up that 401K, find love or something close enough, make spawn, buy a boat, hurry hurry run run run because if you don't check 'em all off by the time your number is up, you do not pass go and most certainly do not collect your 200 dollars.

And to that I say...meh.

Sure some of that is nice. Saving money is smart. Relationships are apparently swell, for some people anyway. However, I know these people. A lot of them, and you do too. The ones that are better off, insert finger-quotations, than me. And a majority of them just aren't that happy. They're happy enough, but that enough is what kills me the most. We've all settled for enough at one time or another, because of course it's better than nothing. Wanting more is scary. Change and uncertainty are scary. But nothing worth having comes easy. Fact.

My big risk is finally paying off, though I am savvy enough to know that's a matter of interpretation (see: broke, garage, retail). I realize that if tomorrow my graduating class was to publish a "Where are they now?!?" pamphlet, my little entry would not illicit gasps of envy and intrigue. And that's okay. I used to be far more judgmental, grossly so, but now? Do you take care of yourself and those who depend on you? Are you doing something that makes you feel fulfilled? Does it suddenly dawn on you at random times how great your life is? Then we're gravy. I don't care if that's happening in a tent or a townhouse, as long as it's good for you, it's good for me.

I guess as I meet more and more intriguing people in life, I'm realizing those who are happy, not enough, but truly happy, happy even when there's not a ton to be happy about....they're happy because they followed their hearts even when it wasn't impressive. When it didn't fit the preconceived mold. When they fucking winged it. And I respect that.

So here I am, occasionally working, always hoping, and never doubting. Things are good. It may not be impressive to others, but it's more than enough for me.


I was going to end on that, but I've been saving this nugget for a while and it seems an appropriate time to include it: (via)

Minimalists see life like this: either you can spend your money on stuff, or you can spend it on experiences. They have learned that stuff doesn’t bring lasting happiness or golden memories.

So they spend their money on living life. On seeing the world and building relationships with the people who live in it. At the end of your life, do you want a garage full of crap or a heart full of memories and friendships?

-J