expressionism

I am an expressive person. Sometimes people hate that, sometimes people love it. I mostly am surprised by it. But since this is a blog and some of you don’t get to see my face e’ry day, I’ve decided to attempt a new, absolutely arbitrary fairly consistent post conveying my reactions to certain things. Make requests if you want, or just deal with the insanity that is my brain. It affects me not. (also, #myfriendsaremarried hits a lot of nails on the head with this type ish. but sometimes it’s profane; be warned.)

how I feel about a friend telling me we’re going different directions now 

because, like, seriously people, last I checked we were all spinning around the same sun with the exact same amount of minutes in our days.

how I feel when people say they don’t like coffee.

because, WHAT DRUGS ARE YOU DOING THEN, CRAZY?

& one last one for today:

how I feel when more than one bird flies near me in public

because you know how they do—rollin’ up on you absolutely unannounced, lookin’ all full of bird flu and what not.

until next time, peeps. ugh, I hate it when people say that. But not like I hate birds, so there’s that. x0x0, j

Secret Saturday Lives On

I know I have neglected you faithful few, so to make up this secret Saturday is going to be saturated. Fasten your seat belts. :]

I’ll be honest. Sometimes I’m needy. Sometimes I talk to myself, sing to myself, and yell at other people when myself is the only one who can hear. I used to have a list. And not just of boyfriend qualifications, but of careers and places to live and names for babies that P.S. I am terrified about having. I like the Winter and I love it when it rains. I hate having to repeat myself, but I love when people can communicate with their eyes. I forever want country music to get out of my life, and I am sometimes gangster in my car with Ice Ice Baby and Run DMC. Every now and then I cry, but mostly my cheeks just hurt from smiling. My hair gets stuck in my seatbelt and car door a lot, and brushing my teeth is one of my favorite things to do. Ever. I’m just a girl, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing at all.

saturdays aren’t ever secret anymore.

I only feel comfortable sharing this secret because I know that none of the sweet people who actually read my blog will use it against me, at least I hope not. I mean, if you did, there’s something seriously wrong with you… But this week’s secret is, I am afraid of knives. Like for real, legitimately scared of them. I think it probably links back to a traumatic experience I once had. Picture it. Freshman year. 2006. There I was, nerdy, overachieving, 17 year old Jenna in dire need of opening a $90 graphing calculator (that I would never end up using in class) for my 9:25 precalculus class. I understand that it’s necessary to package children’s toys securely so that no parts are missing, and no one chokes without parental consent, but calculators? Come On! So here I am, fighting intensely with plastic strong enough to anger the Hulk (if he were to battle plastic…you get the point), sweat drops breaking out on my forehead because clearly if I don’t have this calculator for class, I. will. fail. So I call my friend Kimberly (another overachiever who happens to be studying on campus) and she says, “oh, I have my pocketknife; you can come use it.”

aside: Dear innocent Jenna, don’t go. Just go to class and write your problems down with your pencil. You will pass the class without the calculator, and you will never use calculus again. Love, future Jenna who only uses math to calculate sale discounts
Now, this pink swiss army knife of doom looked innocent enough, but alas, it was secretly evil. I started sawing-away from my body mind you- and the plastic didn’t do anything. So I applied more force. As you may have already inferred, Math/not my thing, so it never actually occurred to me that if I added force, it would increase something else. Like the chances of me dying. So the knife cut and slipped through the plastic and into my thumb. It was surreal. I could see a huge gap in my hand, but it didn’t hurt. I thought, “I am going to be late for class. Sigghhhhhhhh” Then 2 seconds later, my blood was pouring everywhere. 5 stitches later, I had a half-opened calculator, my first absence in college, and wounded pride. I fought the pocketknife of doom, and it won. And it wasn’t even my enemy! The calculator was what I wanted to take down! So fast forward 4 years, and knives make me a little nervous. I try not to show it, because it’s kind of dramatic and weird, but today when I was cutting cantaloupe, I cut my finger, so for the next little bit I think I’m going to confine myself to sporks.
Moral of the story? AUM doesn’t clean their bathrooms daily. My thumb blood was in the hall for a week. ewwwwwwww.
Another secret, I’ve joined this endeavor, and it’s pretty cool. Lots of cool people with excessive amounts of talent. You should visit often.

Oops…again.

Clearly I will never again actually tell you a secret on secret Saturday. Sorry. I actually thought of one too, but I’ll save it for later I guess. Still want a secret? I have 2 papers left in college (one due tomorrow at midnight and one due Wed. at 5) and I haven’t started either. *Gasp. The first one is only 4-5 pages; that’s literally only about 40 minutes of my life once I start, and the second….well I should probably be afraid. Shakespeare papers take at least 3 completely intense edits, but since I didn’t start last week, I’m already sliding down the slippery slope. Another secret? I don’t care! Today I got to soak up the sun and stuff all my graduation invites into envelopes. I’m so over this whole grade thing… except I need them to graduate. Ok, you’re right, lamest secret ever… Next week?

Shhhh.

photo here

I’m a little heart-broken today. I have a notebook that I write absolutely everything in, and I cannot find it anywhere. It’s the saddest ever. The worst part is that in this notebook was all my brainstorming for “One Thing I Love Thursday” and “Secret Saturday.” …soooo, sorry but today’s secret is going to be a little lame. It will however give you more insight to my life, which is what is was all about anyways. So here we go.

After I’m done getting ready in the morning, I always smile at myself in the mirror. Twice. One serious, then one silly. And then, I avoid mirrors for the rest of the day. Granted this means that sometimes I have people going, “Oh girl, please fix your hair” a good bit, but I think avoiding mirrors actually helps my self-esteem. I can’t judge what I can’t see, and if the last thing I saw was me making a silly face I just remember how fun I am and how if I do whatever I do in my life with confidence (thank you Meredith aka, best roomie ever for that motto) then I can have a good day loving myself and everyone else without being worried about silly superficial things.

The Premier of Secret Saturday

If you guys are going to be faithful (and crazy) enough to read my ramblings, I’ve decided that I owe it to you to be more personal. Sometimes I share with you what God’s doing in my life, and sometimes I share silly things that I think, but I think there needs to be a constant. And one that’s somewhere in the middle; Secret Saturday is my attempt at such. Each week I will tell you something personal about me that you probably don’t know. Some weeks will be juicer than others, some more obvious, but I’m sure I will often risk embarassment. Good news is, I love you enough not to care :) [sidenote: since the embarassing thing isn’t a joke, I’ll probably only remind you this first Sat. Every other one you’ll have to remember to check or miss out.] So yeah. Let’s get this started shall we?
Secret One: Sometimes I wish I had a twin.
This has been a thing for me ever since I saw “The Parent Trap” back in the day. I really believed for at least a year there was a 70% chance my dad was part of a cover-up conspiracy and my real dad and twin sister lived somewhere else. (I think the whole experience may have done a little psychological damage, but I can’t prove anything.) I also kind of think the only reason I stopped thinking that was because the theory was based on a movie, and my mom an I were absolutely not as posh as the mom/daughter in said movie. (Completely aware of the extent of my ridiculousness) This experience also helped foster a mild obsession with the Olsen twins (I can feel you judging as I type). So here’s what my life would look like if I had a twin.

We would take cute pictures together like this:

We would be rockstars with messy hair and big glasses like this:
We would wear fabulous dresses for artsy pictures like this:

And we would have amazing tastes in fashion like here:

We would also clearly have to have different hair color so we wouldn’t confuse people, and we would go to class for each other (wearing hats to cover the hair) so we’d never miss anything. I would always have someone to ask “I can wear my hair like this?” and “Is this too much?” And I’d never have to talk to myself. …now that I think about it, having a twin might be too much Jenna. I’m not sure the world can handle two of me.

Even still, sometimes I wish I had a twin.