me [14:42] we're pretty goofy
N [14:43] yes, yes we are, but we are fun!
The weekend was a total whirlwind. I spent a whole lot of it either drunk or hungover, but always, always having a good time. I strengthened a friendship, went to a few shows, ate lots of yummy things that I didn't have to cook, went to a keg party, did tons of laundry, cleaned my room, met new people, got lots of free booze, cleaned up lots of spilt beer, and vomited, quite a number of times.
It was very busy.
What follows is perhaps the only story from the weekend I can tell in a public forum:
Let's set the scene. Our hero, Jenna, is sitting in her neighbor's apartment, at least 11 beers in, at the foot of a bed. She is passively people watching.
A very unattractive young frat boy seats himself next to her.
Curtain.
“You are my Jiminy Cricket.”
. . .
. . .
Nice.
I got a lot done today.
It was a very productive day, despite nearly falling asleep at my desk 5 or 6 times.
Speaking of which: it is time for sleep. G'night.
The other night I had a dream that I was on a SWAT team, trying to take down this evil lunatic with green glowing eyes tearing up a high school. There was some kind of treasure to be found there that he needed to hatch his evil master plan; it was a very Marvel Comics-like plot. (I was also a smokin’ hot Welsh guy instead of myself, but that's hardly the point).
Only problem is, I reach into my pocket where my gun is supposed to be, and I pull out my hairbrush. The one with the wooden handle. So I'm freaking out, not only because I'm totally unprepared—this maniac could come at me, stomping his metal mechanical feet and shooting green lasers from his eyes!—but mostly I don't want my fellow team members to know that I forgot my gun, so I'm kind of hiding my shooting hand behind me (still holding the hairbrush, mind you) and trying to look very busy listening to my in-ear walkie talkie.
You know the gesture: finger to the ear, head tilted towards the floor, eyes looking ahead, walking quickly, very serious and rushed.
John Corbett was on my team and I remember wondering why he didn't cut his damn hair already.
Allison said that maybe this dream means I feel unprepared. I wouldn't say that's too far off.
Doesn't make it any less weird though.
It is totally out of character for me to be attracted to a frat boy, and yet I am so attracted to this one worn–out–kacki–basebase–cap–and–flip–flop–wearing greek mofo. What in the hell is wrong is with me?
Also, reading just a couple of web posts from the guy that I thought I was over totally brought all kinds of feelings that I thought were gone up to the surface. Apparently, I had only buried them.
Work today was long and complicated—including, but not limited to, one big screw up by me that got two departments and my boss involved. Not a good day. I wanted to cry a little bit, but I pulled it together.
Evening was lovely. Sarah had dinner with me here at my apartment, and then she played an open mic here in town, and got an excellent reception. She can't help it. People love her. It's a trait that runs in the family.
Here's a very lj-like list.
If you need something to do this weekend, come to Athens and hang. I need to see you!
S (12:17:46 AM): this morning crap sucks
S (12:17:53 AM): I have to wear closed toe shoes to work
S (12:17:54 AM): that sucks
S (12:17:55 AM): ass
S (12:17:57 AM): double ass
S (12:18:09 AM): if you can't tell, I'm really tired, and I just saw anchorman
S (12:18:11 AM): it sucked
S (12:18:12 AM): ass
Tonight I met my Aunt Tracy, drunk circa 1975. She talked like her, she walked like her, and got way too close when speaking to me. She was really nice(!), but a lot to take. I was also tempted to tell her that I can see her future: a nomad that finds Jesus Christ and drives all her relatives insane (the latter not actually related to the former).
But she will anything for anyone she loves, and will randomly pull amazing things together, impressing everyone.
Just like anyone else, good with the bad.
I realized yesterday that I have somehow managed to nearly give up drawing for the summer, completely by accident. The last time I drew was when I was in Blakely, in my Uncle Charles's farm house, trying to draw his wife, my aunt. At the time I was running on about 3 hours of sleep, and gave up pretty quickly and went to take a nap in the guest room.
And that was the last time.
Lately I haven't been hungry. I'm constantly forgetting to eat, and if I'm not going to work, I won't get out of bed til 3, 4, 5 in the afternoon. I rarely want to do any of the things I supposedly enjoy—drawing, photography, writing, even listening to music—but I feel fine. I believe that I am happy, or at least content. And I feel okay. I think.
This is much different than any other depression I've experienced in my short time here. I just feel off, not down. It's unsettling.
I'm trying not to bitch. But I also believe that if I put this out there, then it will be away from me, outside of me, and then I can move on with things.
Then I can regain my passion for things, and go back to being funny.
Between this gentleman's excellent tutorial and my new MT paid support, I have gotten my new MT3D installation (mostly) up and running.
Good things about the new install:
Bad things about the new install:
So there you have it. Tread lightly, and if you spot something else that isn't working like it should, do tell me.
And totally off-topic: my site looks so much better in FireFox. You should switch. IE will only continue to disappoint you.
You are reading the life, times, and general musings of Jenna Tollerson. I am a web developer and consultant living in downtown Athens, Georgia, USA. [read more]