an update on my "progress" as a scientist:

in a single day last week i managed to-

1. get stuck in the mud while trying to off-road in my uga van. let me tell you, vans ain't got no traction. do not attempt to go muddin' in one. this occurred within ten minutes of my arrival at coweeta.
2. get lost in the woods. i couldn't find the path back to my aforementioned vehicle and what dubiously passes for a road at the hydrologic laboratory. so i wandered around for a while. and i wandered around some more. then it started to get dark and i realized that, as all of the employees at coweeta leave by 4:00, i was probably the only one around for miles. this thought did not comfort me. with visions of crazy, drunken deer hunters in my head (i move!), i decided to create my own path back to the van. unfortunately my "path" forced me to cross the widest part of the creek that separated me from my vehicular destination. i tried to rock hop across which leads me to number three on the list:
3. fall into a very cold creek. suffice it to say that this was not the most pleasant experience.

yes, i achieved all of this in one day. i think that is quite an accomplishment although i was disappointed to learn that one of my coworkers once drove one of the vans off of the side of a mountain. i bet it took more than a rope to get that one unstuck. in any case, i'm still hopeful that i will one day be able to top even that catastrophe. after all, i have only just begun. stay tuned for further mishaps courtesy of jenna, the untrained field ecologist...

on the bright side, i have been to at least four beer-related ecology social events in the past two weeks. as i have said before, scientists like beer. since i like beer i think that makes me a scientist despite my failure in all other things scientific. i am sure that you can see the logic in that statement. ah logic, the cornerstone of scientific theory. i shall use you and abuse you for my own misguided purposes.

for your viewing pleasure i present to you an accurate and unchauvanistic image of how female scientists dress when out in the field. i personally love how sexy my rubber waders look and how they perfectly complement my string bikini. remember kids- science is, above all else, a sexy occupation!

i'm not really a scientist. i just play one on tv.

ok, so i'm not actually on tv nor am i actually a scientist, but i have spent the past two weeks getting a real life crash course in how to become a scientist- specifically an ecologist. i have learned the following so far:

• the main danger i will face when wandering around by myself in the woods is not the bears or rattlesnakes or vicious hornets that call the appalachians home. nor is getting hopelessly lost in the miles of uninhabited forest with only an old-school radio that might or might not work what i should fear most. nope. what i really need to watch out for are the hunters. especially the deer hunters that, according to my sources in the forest service, “shoot at anything that moves.” hello. i move. my only hope of surviving these beastly, drunken predators is to purchase a bright orange vest and hat (i think it's called "blaze orange"). you know the kind. even so there is no guarantee. i could just be a new, bright orange species of deer. after all, i move and that makes me fair game. awesome.

• most scientists see the sunrise every day. however, unlike myself who has until recently only seen the sunrise because i am up until dawn, they have slept all night and have to get up before six o’clock to get to work on time. yikes. that scares me more than the deer hunters. even my bright orange vest will be rendered useless in counteracting this reprehensible situation.

• it is fucking cold at 7am in the mountains in february. seriously. fucking. cold. seriously.

• perhaps you remember the phrase “form equals function” from your introductory biology course? i would like to present to you my new theory on what scientists equate with fashion. i call it “jenna’s universal theory of scientific fashion equals function.” sounds impressive doesn't it? the basic hypothesis of this theory is that the more functional an item of clothing is, the more desirable and “fashionable” it becomes. for example, a vest is very “fashionable” among the scientific community. especially if it has lots of pockets to put stuff in. the more pockets you have, the more stuff you can carry and the more functional and, hence, fashionable the vest is considered to be. the same pocket trend holds true for pants and jackets and backpacks and pretty much anything else. pockets are perhaps the height of haute couture among scientific trendsetters. another giant among the functionally fashionable are waterproof materials. gore tex, polyurethane- you name it, if its waterproof, its a “must have” for any season. as you can imagine, with my meager outdoor experience, i am an obvious fashion no, no among my new colleagues. “what, they make waterproof pants?” (of course) and “what are waders?” (rubber overalls with attached rubber boots that make you feel like you have a giant rubber band around your legs because the crotch of the pants is inexplicably at knee level. this feature seriously impedes walking while making your body appear about three times as long as your legs because of the questionable placement of the crotch area. but hey, they are waterproof. ‘nuff said.). finally, as i mentioned earlier, to avoid becoming a hunting statistic (function) blaze orange is considered the “new black” out in the field (fashion).

• lastly, i have learned that i need to get my lazy self into shape quick. otherwise even if the bears or snakes or hunters don’t get me a heart attack will.

until next time this has been a report from coweeta hydrologic laboratory in otto, north carolina and this is jenna signing off so i can get to bed and wake up to see the sunrise. wish me luck as i do not yet have anything either waterproof or orange or pocket-laden to protect me out in yonder wild wilderness. i’ll be back in athens on thursday. if i survive until then i would not be opposed to enjoying some company and a beer or two (dozen) upon my return. scientists like beer. thank god- there is hope for me yet!

"what is a hipster?"

on saturday night i was in atlanta regaling my friend christy (my best friend from middle and high school) with my story about being bitchslapped (see "hipster cat fight") but when i got to the part about the dumb hipster insulting me by calling me a hipster christy looked confused. in fact, everyone at the table looked confused. none of them had ever heard the word hipster before. in fact, they imagined a hipster to be some sort of hippie complete with bell bottoms, dreadlocks and hemp necklaces and listening to the now defunct phish. now that's pretty damn funny.

for the sake of review here are some hippies:

(note the unrestrained excitement and partial state of undress- not very hipster)

and some hipsters:

(cool and detached and usually fully clothed, unlike hippies. also, hipsters are way hotter than hippies*. check out the cutie in the middle. no, not the one in the red shirt, the other one. hellloo mr. hipster hottie.*)

*disclaimer #1- just kidding, hippies rule!

*disclaimer #2- but totally not as hot as eli. hi honey.

even our waiter had never heard the word hipster before. i was shocked and thought to myself "where have these people been?" then i got to thinking that maybe the word hipster is prevalent only among hipsters themselves or their peripheral hipster consorts. maybe the word and the image it invokes of the perpetually detached, cool, scruffy music lover isn't as universal as i though.

hipsters be proud, you have not yet followed in the footsteps of your predecessors (the flappers, beatniks, hippies, punks, and grunge kids of the past) and become totally mainstream and recognizable. yet. but yet is the key word. i can see it coming and hiding behind your guitars and designer jeans and "unwashed"-clean hair is not an option, my friends. its too late for that. its already hip to be hipster (as long as you refuse to admit it)- people are catching on quick and even i have taken it upon myself to enlighten a few more among the dwindling ranks of the hipster-ignorant. perhaps that makes me a traitor but when it comes down to it, it was pretty funny trying to fit almost everyone i know (including possibly myself) into a neat little stereotypical description of a hipster.

i'm not sure that my description totally clarified things for my friends, but they were definitely catching on by the end of the night. i'm not going to bother going into a long description of what i think a hipster is for you here. if you're really unsure and interested in finding out more about hipsters try a google search- there's enough funny shit out there to keep you entertained without me trying to rehash it all here. or just go to your local hipster hangouts. all cities have them, trust me. well, the hip ones do anyway. but remember to take it all with a grain of salt. certainly hipsters are a diverse group of people that cannot really be categorized by simple stereotypes. *

*disclaimer #3- i think all of my friends are awesome and unique and i would never try to assign any of them to a narrow-minded category. not even the hipsters. or the hippies. oops.

now that i have covered my ass with that little disclaimer, i would like to post this image in honor of christy who has officially declared herself to be a non-hipster now that she knows what a hipster is:

a little out-of-date but still fairly accurate. i would personally get rid of cabbie hat and purse with skull (that is so, like, two years ago at least) and replace them with, say, a scarf and some designer jeans. plus, the white-boy afro is so out and unwashed hair is so in. and about that ski jacket...ok, i'm going to stop now before i give myself away.

dear diary,

here's some funny shit from a diary i had back in 1991.* let's see, that would make me 13 years old, give or take.

*the author would like to note that these are real entries from when she was a self-conscious, boy-obsessed, braces-wearing teenager. she would also like to note that she has allowed herself some creative editing and splicing and a little add-libbing here and there for your reading pleasure.

from l to r: scrawny adolescent girl that looks like a boy (me), the source of my jealousy (boobie girl), scary brutish girl with big neck (my sister)

6-15-91
"I hate being jealous. It makes me feel so rotten. oooh, hush your filthy mouth My sister's best friend and one of my friends, is one person I am jealous of... All of a sudden, after she turned 16 everyone seems to think she is so pretty. I guess the main thing that has made me jealous of her is that she has boobs and i don't. yes, i was being completely serious. i don't think my since of humor developed until later, along with my breasts I guess that is the one thing I would change about myself. I would have bigger boobs. i weep for you young, superficial jenna; influenced in your naviete by ridiculous media sterotypes I hate that word still do but what should I call them then? breasts, tits, melons, gazoongas- whever the fuck you want other than "boobs" I guess I'll just say that I wish I had a better figure."so that every short, pimply adolescent boy i knew would fall hopelessly in love with me and want to make out with me all the time ...

6-16-91
"I was thinking, the only reason we are here (and all other creatures, too creatures? what a dork. oops, that's me i'm talking about) is to reproduce which means that at the time i considered myself a waste because i hadn't fullfilled my obligation to the human species. hadn't even come close. That makes no sense. What good are we doing? good? who ever said anything about people doing good stupid-head? Oh, well. I don't understand it at all." and likely never will

and for the grand finale... some bad peotry written by an overly romantic 13 year-old. me! (seriously, i'm almost too embarassed to put this in, even now, 14 years later but it's just so bad and so funny. how can i resist?)

6-20-91
"Would you like to hear two lines of my unfinished poem? no, please spare us
While moonbeams dance along the darkened shore
I dream my dreams but wish for more retch, vomit
I'm not too sure about the second line or the first line for that matter, I understand it but will anyone else? trust me, its not rocket science It's suppossed to mean that dreaming is not always enough how deep... well anyway, it makes sense to me." and to anyone else with half a brain you fool


well, that's about all i can handle of myself in 1991. something about confronting your younger self is discomforting even when its also funny. i guess its because, as much as i'd like to pretend otherwise, that girl was/is me. now that's some deep shit dude.

hairy underpants

no, that is not a sexually suggestive title. it is the name of a haiku penned by my friend francis "o'poole". a few years back when he and eli and i were on our way from chicago to new york to celebrate the new year. the ride was long and quite snowy and the two boys were whining the whole time about the necessity of turning back before we ran off the road and got killed. however, my sheer willpower and annoying way of pouting when i want to do something eventually won them over and we made it to a surreal and peaceful snow-covered new york city about 15 (or 16, or 17)hours later.

on the way to n.y.c. - eli and frank

the ride there may have been not so fun, but we made the best of it and frank entertained us by writing some trip-inspired haikus that i would like to share with you now:

Haiku #1
Holy Toledo
I hope I see some Quakers
Before the snow falls

Haiku #2
Hairy Underpants
Warm on a cold winter day
Hairy underpants

Haiku #3
Out of the city
Onto the turnpike of time
Kaleidescope time

Haiku #4
Flying buttresses
Wanting to fly but standing
Hairy underpants

i think we can all agree that frank is quite talented. thanks frank.
(good times, good times)

testing...

so, if you made it through that last entry i would like to congratulate you for your stamina. that was the marathon of blog entries and yet you trained, you fought for it, and you made it through. so congratulations. even i got bored by the end of that one. you are a truly dedicated blog reader my friend. perhaps you (and i) should get a life. no, no. i didn't mean that. i need you. don't leave me. i take it back. i'll change, i swear. from now on, none of my entries will be more than five paragraphs. you'll see. i'm different now.

xoxo,
jenna

hipster cat fight

the following is a lengthy and true (although somewhat drunkenly remembered) account of the almost-fight i got into last night at the go bar. seriously, i'm not kidding. the go bar. not classic city saloon. the go bar. you know the one (if you live in athens you do anyway). while a fight at the go bar seems ludicrous enough, the fact that i was the one that almost got in a fight makes it even more ridiculous.

so, obviously, i went to the go bar last night. i went with a couple of friends after stopping by boneshakers for a quick shake or two. as we were walking in we passed by a girl standing by herself outside of the bar. we said hello although none of us knew her. just to be polite, you know. it seems rude to me to pass within a foot of someone who is looking at you and not to acknowledge them. as i later found out, that is because of my poor, stereotypical southern upbringing. little did my two nemeses from last night realize that along with politeness, a true southern upbringing also equips one with sass. and by sass i mean a "don't fuck with me- i'm polite because i want to be not because i have to be and i will kick your ass if you force me to" attitude.

after passing by nemesis #1, who shall henceforth be called by the name "bottle-thrower" and approaching the door to go in we were all startled by the sound of an exploding beer bottle right next to our feet. for some strange reason bottle-thrower (now you hopefully understand the significance of her given name) had thrown her beer right at us. ok. so we went inside.

one delayed reaction later, i was like "did that girl just throw her beer at us?"
and my friends were like "yes."
and i was like "aw, hell no she didn't. what the fuck is wrong with her?"
and they were all like "i don't know, let's get a drink."

and i was like, by that time, already out the door and confronting bottle-thrower.

at this point i wasn't really mad. i was just curious as to why this girl that none of us had ever seen before had thrown a beer at us. so i asked her. she looked slightly contrite and replied that she had thrown the beer because she was moving to l.a. tomorrow and thought what the hell, it would be funny. i told her that i thought that was very weird. why would throwing a bottle and potentially injuring someone seem like a funny thing to do? she wasn't sure but stuck by her story. she seemed pretty nice but that is probably only because i was slightly intoxicated and not really the best judge of character under the circumstances. i said ok, whatever and turned to go back inside when suddenly she said with a smirk, besides, if i had wanted to hurt you i would have aimed for your head. that's when i saw the malicious part of her nature that had prompted her to chuck a glass bottle at us in the first place. i also saw something else. this girl really had wanted to throw the bottle at our heads, but had stopped herself, not because she felt bad about it, but because she was afraid to do it. she was, in fact, just a cowardly bitch. i went inside and promptly forgot about her.

until i came face to face with nemesis #2, who i shall dub "jerry-springer-guest-wannabe". she got in my face and sneered that my boyfriend was telling on her friend. ok, first of all my boyfriend lives in virginia so her claim was pretty unlikely and second of all, her friend threw a fucking bottle at us! am i really supposed to feel bad that my friend chose to inform the bartender of this? clearly my two nemeses had already had a bit much to drink and should probably get their annoying little asses home. then jerry-springer-guest-wannabe turns in a huff and goes to sing her terrible rendition of some indie-rock song, as it was indie-rock karaoke night after all (oh-my-god, does life get any more hipster than indie-rock karaoke?).

*intermission*

(snacks available in the concession area)

i had had enough by this point so i headed to the bathroom to take a quick sip from my flask. when i came out feeling refreshed my friend c was clearly ready to go as was i. i mean, besides me and c and j and bt and jsgw there were only about five other people there. lame. so c and i head out only to run into our friend j in a heated conversation with bt and jsgw. we came in in the middle, but here is what i gathered: bt had thrown the bottle not at all of us but specifically at j because he was too friendly for her taste. it made her angry and reminded her of why she was moving back to l.a. the reason? because she came to athens to get away from pretentious hipster snobs and was met with the exact people she was trying to escape when she arrived in our lovely town. apparently, in her mind, j seemed too incorrigibly hipster and deserved having a bottle thrown at him especially because he "pretended" to be friendly in that annoying southern way. that's when it came out that j isn't even from the south at all. he's from new york or something. well, that threw bt for a loop, but jsgw kindly explained to her that many transplanted hipsters go through a "southern phase" where they try to become more genteel or some shit.

i think that's when i actually got mad. or maybe it was when jsgw started pointing at each of us in turn and chanting "hipster" in a really grating way. i mean, i'm not going to either claim or deny hipster status. i'm sure that is up to each individual i meet to judge if they choose to care about something so superficial and stupid, but i am certainly not going to stand there and be made fun of by some dumb girl who is about as stereotypically hipster as you could hope to find. and seriously, what were they doing at the go bar of all places if they hated hipsters so much? at indie-rock karaoke night? please, even flicker and manhattan, two townie hipster meccas, have got nothing on the go bar. so basically the two chicks are total hypocrites. they are easily the most judgmental, snobby, pretentious hipsters i have yet to meet but they choose to ignore this fact. it's sad really, because it means that they hate themselves more than they hate anyone else (and they really seem to have lots of hatred to go around) since they are the epitome of what they claim to detest.

so i got mad and said something along the lines of "shut the fuck up you dumb bitch. take a look in the goddamn mirror if you want to make fun of hipsters because you're making fun of yourself, too you fucking pretentious hipster."

i think she started yelling something but c was like, ok time to go so we left and got in the car.

but it wasn't over yet. bt ran up to the car and actually said "where are you going? take me with you. jsgw is mad at me because i started all of this and i don't want to go with her. i'm sorry, don't be mad." looking back, i see this for the cowardly cop out that it is. bt actually turned on her friend when push came to shove. sadly, that poor girl cannot even claim loyalty as a virtue. at the time, however, i thought that she really seemed sorry and was maybe an ok person after all and that her evil friend was the one causing all of the problems. i think i had temporarily forgotten who actually threw the bottle at us.

inevitably, jsgw came over to the car to get bt. i don't remember how we started arguing again, but i think j and jsgw were going at it verbally when i chimed in with a "shut up, you're just a bitch and your friend is nicer than you." for some reason the fact that i thought bt was nicer than her made her furious. she claimed that she had been trying to take up for us but i must have missed that part because all i remember is her either making fun of me or getting in my face or yelling. in any case, she got so mad that it was actually comical and maybe my sadistic side came out a little bit too because i seem to remember noticing how mad it made her and deciding to repeat it a few more times for effect. "your friend is nicer than you are. your friend is nicer than you are. etc."

now, i have a very limited experience with physical violence, most of it learned from defending myself against my sister when we were kids so, although this may come as a surprise, i was rather shocked when jsgw reached into the car and backhanded me across the face. my first reaction was to jump out of the car and beat the shit out of her. fortunately (or unfortunately depending upon your point of view) i couldn't get the door open so i had to resort to yelling some more obscenities at her from inside the car. things such as: "what do you think this is, the jerry springer show?" and "do you really expect me to get in a fight with you right here in the parking lot? that is so trashy." to which she responded, "call me trashy then. let's go!" to which i responded by calling her white trash followed by a few unsavory words. truth be told, the door wasn't really what stopped me from paying her back the backhand plus some, it was the ridiculous image of the two of us slapping at one another and pulling each other's hair and rolling around in the parking lot that stilled my hand. now, maybe that image sounds arousing to some of you male readers but, trust me, your imagination has seriously misled you. the reality of it would have been nothing but pure silliness. so we drove away with me laughing at the stupidity of the situation.

my last image of my two nemeses as we left was of bt cowering on the sidewalk because she was afraid we would run over her and of jsgw giving me the evil eye as i laughed in her face. of the two of them i think i prefer jsgw. she, at least, showed some loyalty to her friend and some spunk. it's just too bad that she's so damn angry with life. fucking hipster.

two is not better than one

if i really wanted to grow up i would certainly have made some sort of real effort by now. not these indecisive half-attempts that have characterized the past six years of my life. the problem is that i want two things. maybe that doesn't sound so bad. after all, two is a relatively low number. i've always been a fan of even numbers. of pairs. so two is my number. unfortunately it doesn't work in this situation because what i want two of doesn't come in pairs. i want two lives and that just can't happen, can it?

my one life would be responsible and predictable and comfortable. i would have a satisfying career, a house, i'd probably get married and maybe have a child or two. i wouldn't be rich but i wouldn't have to eat only bananas and beans for a month either. i couldn't devote too much time to artistic endeavors, but i could certainly have a hobby. i never thought i would actually want such a traditional life but i do, in a way. i'm worn out and tired of wanting some unnamed thing and not knowing what my next move will be until i'm already halfway through it.

then again, i've got this image of another life in the back of my head. one that's spontaneous and artistic and wild and passionate. one where i say screw grad school and careers and head out for the great unknown. screw houses and steady jobs and car notes and marriage and just let me be without any of those bonds. just let me enjoy life. if i've only got the one it seems silly to be bored by it. but that life offers no hope of ever relaxing. of ever being content. it offers allure and excitement but if i never know what i'm looking for then it also offers no hope of ever being satisfied.

so i got back and forth. i want one thing and then the other. the constant warring in my head keeps me from committing to anything at all and so i stagnate until a choice if forced upon me by something outside of my control. i'm letting life happen to me and i know that this is not the right way to be. it is not the way i want to be but it is the way i am.

so i'm writing it out here so i can't change my mind. i have finally (drumroll) made a decision. i'm staying in athens for a few more years to go to graduate school. i may be still be inwardly fighting it, this narrowing down of my options, but i will let that other life go for now and try working towards a real goal. of course, i can't say whether the outcome of these next few years will lead me into career-mode or flight-mode but i'm at least buying myself a little time (and hopefully a little maturity) in the process.

(ok, now that i wrote that i'm feeling sick and i want to delete that last paragraph but i'm not going to. well, i might. ok, no. it stays. for now. but really, i'm staying in athens? fuck. ok. i guess i'm staying. but i want to go to spain or ireland instead. no, i said athens so athens it is. athens greece? sounds cool. i could lay on the beach all day and write bad poetry or something. no, not athens greece. athens georgia. right. well, i could do some experiments and get a graduate degree. that sounds...fun? no, i mean- that sounds like the responsible thing to do. yes, exactly.)

the art of manipulation

my mother- my mother is a complex woman as i have come to suspect most women are. she is both the strongest and most helpless woman i know. she has been the breadwinner, the ruler of the household, and the one to count on for as long as i can remember. she is also the most emotional and irrational person i have ever had to deal with. that is my mother. the rock of our family that cannot so much as pump her own gasoline. well, will not pump her own gasoline anyway.

my mother has perfected the art of manipulation. she perfected it long before i was born. she has always been able to get my dad to do anything she wants even though he may be grumbling the entire time. other people too, but especially men. i remember being a little girl and going to my mother whenever i wanted something. not that she would actually do it for me, but she would go to my dad and get him to do it. and he did every time. at some point she began to train us girls in the sacred art of feminine manipulation. "feminine wiles" as my boyfriend refers to it now.

she began to make us go to our dad first and try to get him to do whatever it was that we wanted. it never worked. eventually we would have to go back to her as always and get her to talk my dad into it. she, of course, never failed.

at some point i gave up in my ability to manipulate. i just could not, for all of my mother's efforts, get others to do what i wanted. and then, later on in my teen years, i began to get angry at my mom for not doing things for herself and at my dad for not standing up to her. i didn't respect or understand the necessity of this interaction in their relationship. also, i failed miserably in my many attempts to manipulate and i've always hated everything that i'm not good at. sports for instance.

my disdain made me believe that i had escaped the fate of so many women. all of those women that flutter their eyelashes just so, pitch their voices into a sweeter cadence, act helpless and weak. as a feminist that disgusted me anyway and i wanted nothing to do with it.

but a woman cannot really hope to escape her fate or her childhood training. my feminine wiles have somehow snuck their way into my interactions and manage to manifest themselves without my conscious awareness. just ask my boyfriend. but now, instead of denying my heritage i go with it. i have no choice really. i was born and raised for this it seems. i have even been told that somehow, i also have a southern accent whenever i am asking ever so sweetly for a favor. now, i don't normally have a southern accent but my mother does. i think, if i were to tell her, she would be so proud.

now you know why i called it "nonsense"

i was on the phone with eli the other night. i told him that i thought i might be the kind of person that will never be happy. he agreed with me. i wanted to be surprised but really i wasn't.
we got off of the phone and i thought about it some more.

a few months ago i had a conversation with a friend and we agreed that people never really change. at first i tried to argue against the idea but i knew i was wrong.
i thought about that some more, too.

and here i am now.
still thinking.

family pee stories- part two

how i almost made my sister pee in her pants

picture, if you will, me at sixteen years of age. i was not only a late bloomer; i was also a slow bloomer. meaning that my "awkward phase" had already lasted for over a quarter of my life and was showing no signs of letting up in the near future. maybe it had something to do with my coinciding "braces phase" that lasted just as long, but i had, by the age of sixteen, cultivated an attitude that i, and only i, considered mysterious and interesting. the attitude i'm referring to involved talking very little and smiling even less in the hopes that my graceless braces would be overlooked in light of the intrigue i cultivated around me wherever i went. it also involved sitting down a lot to mask my gangly and ever-growing limbs and staring off into space so others could imagine the many fascinating thoughts running through my head at all times. needless to say, all of that staring off into space and not talking led to a rather slow social agenda and so at some point i no longer had to pretend to spend most of my time daydreaming.

not that i was an airhead or even antisocial. i was just, at any given moment, somewhere far away in jenna-land where everything was always exciting and suburban life was not part of my experience.

now that i have set the stage- picture, if you will, my sister dropping me off to pick up something at the drugstore after school one day. she stopped the car in the emergency fire lane while i ran inside to get whatever it is teenage girls get at the drugstore. the new sassy magazine perhaps? hot off the press. anyway i bought my magazine or lip-gloss or wax for my braces or whatever it was and wandered back out to the car that was supposed to be parked in the fire lane right outside of the entrance exactly where it was when i went in. i was, as usual, lost in my own thoughts about how much roswell sucks and how cool my life was going to be once i got away and everyone discovered how amazing and interesting i really was beneath my boring suburban facade.

i went up to the car that was parked in the exact same spot, opened the door and got in. that was when things got a little weird. i swear to you, time slowed down. as i shut the door of the car, disturbing details began to seep into my consciousness. for one thing, my sister was driving a two-door thunderbird (can i get a "hell yeah!"?) and to properly shut such heavy doors you have to really slam them. so i got in the car and slammed the door in one unthinking motion, still lost in my teenage angst. oddly, the door was much lighter than usual and it really made some noise when i shut it. quite unusual. looking at the door wait a minute, why is there an ugly green umbrella in the side pocket of the door? i don't own an ugly green umbrella. scanning the dashboard in front of me why is the dashboard maroon? i thought it was grey. looking farther to my left why is there a cross hanging from the rearview mirror? my sister isn't religious. looking at my sister why is my sister a middle-aged, matronly african american woman looking at me like i have completely lost my mind!? oh shit.

yes, that's right. wrong car. my eyes got approximately as wide as the woman's eyes i now confronted. my mouth dropped open in solidarity with her own extreme surprise and confusion. i mumbled some incoherent apology and got out fast. the whole incident may have lasted five seconds, but it felt more like well, at least thirty seconds. maybe forty.

here's what happened- while i was inside the store my sister had pulled the car ahead about twenty feet and this poor, unsuspecting woman had taken her previous spot and i had gotten in her car and shut the door. i have no idea what she must have thought. at least i wasn't very intimidating. all gawky, brace-faced 100 pounds of me. she could have totally taken me and we both knew it.

by the time i high-tailed it to the thunderbird i had decided never to tell another soul about this mortifying incident. unfortunately my dear sister had other plans. she had seen the whole thing and was laughing so hard when i got back to the correct car that she was crying and couldn't see to make the quick getaway that i had hoped for. we sat there for ages while she laughed and cried and threw in a few heartfelt snorts here and there but she did not lose control of her bladder. damn her. she was close. i think she even said "i'm gonna pee in my pants" a few times but to no avail. if she had things may have turned out very differently. this story would not be fondly recounted at my expense whenever she gets the opportunity because she would have to pay the price of retribution. as it is i have no retribution for this story. well, actually, i do, but most of the stories concerning her exploits are x-rated or at least r-rated and i certainly can't tell them in front of my parents and grandmother... or can i?

family pee stories- part one

how i made my grandmother pee in her pants:

when i was about five i went on a trip with my family to the mountains to see some "indian mounds" as they were (and maybe still are?) referred to. it is possibly at this point in my life that my fascination with all things native american began. that i can't remember, but i do remember this trip vividly for other reasons as you shall see.

at the age of five i was a very willful and spirited child. (actually, according to my parents i was very willful and spirited from the moment of my birth which i think is their way of implying that i was basically a holy terror from infancy on. hard to imagine, i know. my sister, on the other hand, was the golden child before she was infected by that demon known as "puberty". always right at my mom's heels. very demure and well behaved. my how things have changed.) so, while my parents and grandmother strolled slowly along absorbing the history of the place with my sister at their side, i was on a fast track to the end of that endless serpentine mound. i couldn't see it, but i knew it had to be there and i was going to get there first and win, you know? i took off running and could hear my grandmother yelling at me. my mom, too. they were convinced that i was going to fall and roll off the edge of the mound. i ignored them as usual. i had confidence both in my ability to stay upright while running at full speed and in their ability to be overprotective. so i kept running and, wouldn't you know it, fell and rolled right down the very steep side of that indian mound.

the next thing i remember is being at the very bottom and looking up and seeing my dad peering down at me from what seemed like a million feet away. he was telling me that i had to climb back up because the sides were too steep for him to come down and get me. i thought he looked appropriately worried about my predicament.

by this time i was no longer feeling so confident about my athletic abilities and thought there was no way in hell that i could climb back up. i think i really though "there is no way in hell" because i cursed like a sailor when i was a kid. even as i thought this it was apparent to me that i really had no choice but to attempt the climb, so i bucked up and grabbed onto the ivy growing up the side of the burial mound. at heart i was a survivor.

i made several failed attempts and kept ending up unceremoniously back at the bottom. on my bottom. each time i grabbed back onto that damn ivy and tried it again. i think i was pretty close to tears by this point, but just when all seemed hopeless and i though my family would abandon me to the wilderness, i made one last desperate grab for my dad's outstretched hand and felt myself hauled up and deposited back on the top.

the reaction i expected (my mother and grandmother in tears, swooping down to comfort me and make me feel better) was certainly not what greeted me upon my return to the beaten path. my mother was trying to look stern and worried at the same time but was failing miserably because she was too preoccupied with trying not to laugh. my dear, sweet grandmother, on the other hand, was not even attempting such pretenses. she was laughing so hard that she was on the ground, had tears streaming down her face, and, get this, had peed in her pants.

she tried to stop and to apologize and act like she was all worried and shit but i knew better. i had seen the truth and it was not pretty. it involved my family laughing at my expense and my grandmother wetting her pants. i mean, seriously. she was way older than me and even i never wet my pants. my pride was injured and my dignity was offended (yes, even at five i could be pretentious). i vowed to remember this day always and, as you can see, i did.

the threat of this story comes in handy at family gatherings when my grandmother likes to tell the same embarrassing stories about me over and over. and over. like the ones where she compares me to my mysterious great uncle richard that i never had the pleasure of meeting. he was known as the "peculiar one" and i am, according to her, "just like him". she knows that she can't take this type of storytelling too far however or i might just smile and say "remember that time you..." and she would have to start telling the other stories that i like better. the ones where i was a prodigy child and everything i did was golden.

don't let the familial stance fool you. these people laughed at me. and look at me- i'm so small and innocent.

freak out!

it's been a while, has it not? some of you may be wondering, "where the hell has jenna been? she's gotten me all used to her charming, witty, etc., etc. posts on her blog and now she's left me high and dry. what a bitch."
well maybe not, but i like to at least pretend that someone, somewhere might be thinking that. actually, i'm pretty sure that a few someones might be thinking that last part anyway. even if they don't read my blog.
so here's the deal. i'm freaking out. completely freaking out right now so you'll have to forgive the sporadic nature of my entries for the next few weeks. i'm trying to hold onto my sanity at the moment and that is taking up quite a bit more of my time than it usually does.

why?

(perhaps you've already begun to notice my fondness for lists which i never realized until i read my own blog. funny that. so here's another list for you.)

a list of the reasons jenna is currently freaking out and wishing she had some valium and that if she did that she would not be afraid to take it because she is weird like that:

1) i am currently in the process of applying to graduate school. by "currently in the process of" i of course mean "currently freaking out about". here is why- the word "applying" as it is used in conjunction with programs of graduate level education is ridiculously misleading in its simplicity. it does not mean to simply fill out some little form and send it in as i had hoped. oh no. it is quite a process that many people spend months, perhaps a couple of years looking into, making contacts, convincing complete strangers that happen to be experts in their field that you aren't an idiot in spite of limited experience and some dubious grades from your freshman year when studying and even going to class was unheard of that they would indeed love to take you on as a student in their lab and invest in your education, bugging professors that you hope remember you to write recommendation letters, actually applying. luckily i have given myself a full two weeks in which to do all of this. to apply myself to the task of applying. as if that weren't enough let me relate what else i must do in these two wonderful weeks that lie ahead.

2)some of these stupid schools aren't satisfied with just the general version of the gre. nope. they want the biology subject test also. another standardized means of judgment i suppose. didn't seem too awful until i talked to my friends that studied for six months for the damn thing and still failed. six months!? who thinks that far ahead anyway? luckily i have those same fabulous two weeks to learn about biochemistry, microbiology, genetics, plant physiology, animal physiology, ecology, evolution, and some other biology related crap that i can't even remember the names for because i haven't studied yet!!

3)um, i think i might happen to have a final that same week but i can't say for sure when because i haven't been to class in recent memory. actually, i know i have a final but i have chosen to ignore it for now.

(i bet you're hoping this whine-fest is going to end soon aren't you? not such luck buddy. after all, i'm not forcing you to read further. stop now before you realize how pathetic i have allowed my life to become. now you're interest has been renewed hasn't it you sick fuck? ok then.)

4)i have to move out of my apartment sometime this month because my vampirous car has finally sucked my finances completely dry despite the fact that it still needs a new starter, a transmission flush, and a couple of new door handles. since i don't have anything holding me to athens at the moment i thought this might be a grand opportunity to go somewhere new and improved for a while. of course, i have no idea where to go and even if i did i have no money and a broken car to (not) take me there. hmm. life's looking good. do you know anyone who needs a place to live or wants to buy a fabulous '91 buick skylark or a money-pit '88 jetta?

ah, venting feels good. good for me. maybe bad for you? now you know more about my life than you had ever hoped or feared. at least now you can see why i am a basket case and not posting much online. busy, busy, busy. to make you feel better, i will tell you about the bright side of this situation. on the bright side, once this month is over things will seem way better than they actually are because i won't have quite so much to freak out about. i should know where i'm going to school, where i'll be living for the next six months and, after that, the next five years. once i sell one car, i should be able to fix the other piece of crap and hopefully buy some groceries and maybe some beer. all of my shit will be in storage so i will be free. free! for the next few months anyway. san fran? new mexico? who knows which way the wind will take me. don't miss me too much athens. i may be back come august.

(ok, it's time for me to sign off until next time. i've got a 40 of icehouse and 1000 pages of biology to get through before i declare this evening to be over.)

p.s. just so you don't feel too bad for me, i spent my thanksgiving break in new york. here are some photos from the trip for you to enjoy. don't worry, be happy.
p. diddly!
somewheres in nyc
aw(e), ain't it purty?

tiny elvis says: "look at that van boys. that van is huuge!"

spying on others at the moma. sans flash of course

kgb intrigue

self (satisfied) portrait

"stop taking my fucking picture"


heading out of the city on sunday...

binge drinking: still cool in your late twenties?

the following are just a few poignant examples of why you will no longer find me a)drinking before 10 (that's pm), b) allowing myself more than four drinks when i go out (there seems to be a line that i cross after four where i forget what the word moderation means and why it applies to the consumption of alcoholic beverages) and c) shots are a definite no no (especially tequila. especially well tequila).

1. i get really talkative and annoying when i am drunk. it's very unseemly for a woman my age. i try to make up for it by alternating being really talkative and annoying with being belligerent and mean. that way people never know what to expect and i seem more interesting.

2. i'm pretty sure i got thrown out of the forty watt last night. not for being too drunk exactly, but my drunkenness was a direct cause of the incident. here's what happened: my friend and i were just scoping out the show so we left our id's at the front door planning to go in and come right back out to tell our friends if we should all go. somehow a beer got handed to me on the way in, i saw a few friends and forgot that i hadn't paid and wasn't supposed to be there. seriously. i got caught with a beer in my hand by the angry door guy and he dragged me out by the collar and threw me on the ground. then he spit on me and told me never to come back. ok, not really, but he did think i was trying to scam my way in for a free show which is just as bad. i mean that is so, you know, uncool. of course i was then too embarrassed to go back in even though, by that point, we wanted to see the show.

3. i am having trouble thinking and writing anything that makes sense. right this very moment. a good 16 hours after my last drink was drunk. that is sad. if this entry happens to be especially not funny and/or terrible just know it is merely a reflection of how i feel. i feel like a very bad hangover. is that possible?.

4. i woke up this morning and hit myself on the forehead (which did nothing to ease my headache and was a very dumb thing to do) because i could remember how annoying i was last night. there are two possible remedies for this embarrassed morning after scenario. i could either make sure that i drink so much next time that i don't remember anything or i can do the responsible thing and drink less. the odds that i will embarrass myself while sober are still good, but i will at least have a fighting chance to maintain my composure.

5. i like to whisper (yell) stories about people to my friends and stare right at the person i am talking about while doing so. they, of course, know instantly that i am talking about them and hate me. i, on the other hand, am secure in the knowledge that i am not being completely obvious and keep right on blabbing while they shoot me eat-shit-and-die-you-gossipy-bitch looks that i fail to notice.

6. did i mention that i get very annoying when i'm drunk? right.

7. and finally...drinking too much is sinful and god condemns sinners. ha, ha. just kidding.

now i'm sure you're wondering, is jenna really going to stick to her rules as listed in a, b, and c? what, are you asking me? how the hell should i know?
ok, i think i can safely answer that question now. the answer is a resounding NO!

back in my day

what is up with athens, ga? supposed home of more pretentious townie music junkies than any other college town in the nation, but i no longer have faith in that statistic. music fans my ass. i am feeling old and out of touch which, in turn, makes me feel bitter. and old.

just the other week john cale played here. you know, the john cale. guess what? the show didn't sell out. not even close as far as i could tell. now this week, the killers are playing and it sold out well before show time. like a week before. not that i don't like the killers. "somebody told me that you have a boyfriend..." and all that. fun stuff (although it gets stuck in my head and refuses to leave until i force it out with the other song that gets repeatedly stuck in my head. that would be "static on the radio" by jim white. the two are on rotation in my brain). my point is just that, while the killers are fun, they are certainly not on par with john cale as far as innovation and staying power go. i bet no one will even know who they are in a few years. the strokes who?

of course, what it really comes down to is this- most of the music fans in athens may just be "fans" because it's cool. they might not even, heaven forbid, really give a shit about the music at all. it's more about the scene. if you've ever been to a show here then you know what i'm talking about. there is so much socializing that you're lucky if you can even hear the music, much less appreciate it. a symptom or a cause? well, none of this is new to anyone living here and i'm certainly not trying to imply that there aren't any true music fans in athens. far from it. so i'll stop being pretentious(!) and get to my point.

my point is that i feel old. soon i'm going to start conversations with "back in my day".

in fact, i think i'll give it a go. here. right now. ok, back in my day i think things were unfortunately pretty much the same as they are now. back in my day we were obnoxious and loud and disrespectful to the musicians that we paid good money to see. back in my day we drank so much that we completely forgot every moment of the concert we had been waiting months, maybe even years, to go to. back in my day people were pretty much pretentious posers.

hell yeah, i guess i'm not that old after all! my day is still running strong. at least here in athens. aka "never-never land". here's to being an adolescent forever...

back in my day- drunk in 1995

very, very recently. some things stay the same. 


p.s. speaking of jim white, my new test of friendship worthiness is this: what do you think of the song "if jesus drove a motorhome"? yes, i will judge you based on your answer. that is the point of a test after all.

ring of fire

tonight i was walking through campus. everything was quiet and peaceful and a little bit sinister. just me and the trees and the empty brick buildings. i liked it. then through the trees i heard a man downtown singing "ring of fire" by johnny cash. i could hear his voice but not his guitar. an accidental acappella version created by the acoustics of the trees and the quiet night. the singing was oddly amplified and it overpowered everything else in the almost-silence of nighttime north campus. it was the only thing i heard as i walked. i kept walking and the song kept fading behind me until i could no longer hear the man singing it and i was left alone in my silence.

later on i went to fox's to relieve some stress with a few friends and a few beers. at some point a man sang his own rather grating rendition of "ring of fire". i was reminded of my experience from earlier in the evening and wondered if the song had some significance for me this night. i decided that it did not and i went home.

defeatist optimism

i can't. i can't even think about it right now. so it looks as though i'll write about it instead. about how bitterly disappointed i am to live in a country that is so egotistical, so globally isolated, so closed-minded, so stupid as to have reelected bush as president. this election, on top of everything else, has made me feel so utterly hopeless. like i want to give in and either move away to a saner, more logical country that doesn't believe in and incorporate every thought and skewed ideal spoon fed to them by the media like a bunch of mindless fools or maybe i'll just forget it all and stay in bed for a long, long time.

its strange to live your entire life feeling proud to be american. proud of your country and what it stands for. then to one day finally grow up. to think for yourself and see that what you'd always believed in is nothing more than a bunch of horseshit. horseshit that the majority of americans seem to prefer to wallow in rather than thinking beyond what they can hear and touch and see in their limited experience. so here we are, caught in our own self-made, self-righteous bubble of ignorance and i'm stuck outside. happy to be out but feeling lost just the same. feeling like i'm out of touch with the pulse of my country and not knowing how or when it happened. realizing that i've lived in my own self-created bubble of another sort. and now i want to just give up and leave this nation to progress (or maybe its regress) towards the bleak future it seems to want.

then again, even though i'm feeling alone and hopeless, it turns out that almost one half of this country is feeling exactly the same way. i've gotten e-mails form moveon.org, greenpeace, and even john kerry himself in the past couple of days. form letters sent out to thousands, maybe millions of people. nothing meant especially for me. even so, a specific part of the greenpeace letter really got to the heart of how i feel right now and knowing that it was just a mass e-mail didn't take away from its power to bring me back from that hopelessness. in fact, it was that characteristic alone that made me feel better. to feel like maybe i'm not as out of touch with reality as i thought. if that form letter seemed to speak out to the core of my disillusionment so precisely it meant that that disillusionment is something i share with the millions of others who received the same e-mail. glory be and hallelujah! check it out, i'm not alone in my misery after all. i've got half the country right there with me. what a beautiful thing. not that i want you all to feel as miserable as i do, but its just the place we're all starting from, not necessarily where we'll end up.

"When you listen to President Bush and feel disenfranchised, when you feel like your government doesn't represent you, when you feel like it is no longer your country, savor that feeling. Before Gandhi, King, Lewis, Parks, Muir and Thoreau went on to do great things, they all felt that way. They felt it, it made them angry, and then it motivated them. Now it's our turn. Feel pissed off. Then together we will turn it into something...We all need to spend some time being pissed off. Feeling shock. Mourning. Then we have to act. Our cause is just. We can not afford to be defeated, or to be defeatist."
John Passacantando,Executive Director, Greenpeace

for some added perspective on the division of this country:
http://www.boingboing.net/images/Purple-USA.jpg

yes sir

so here i am, transferring my myspace blog to the world of real blogs. i'm new at this so wish me luck. all of my archives were originally on myspace but i will try to spruce them up a little for you my dear readers. myspace, if you are one of the uninitiated, is very silly, very addictive, and a fabulous way to waste time and gawk at wierd people from a safe cyber-distance. if you feel intrigued and inclined to join, just don't blame me- as you can see, i am moving on. or maybe just adding to my internet addictions.

car repairs and reconciliation

me and my jetta. together again. (in the background is my soon-to-be former home)

what follows is a car story of horror and possible eviction. read on. try not to enjoy it too much.

"fixing" your 1988 volkswagon jetta at athens automotive: 225$

replacing the catalytic converter on said car: 280$

fixing what was originally wrong with the car and replacing the parts of the engine that got burned up by the original "repair job": 280$

having a piece of shit car that you love for some stupid reason and can now drive again (once you pay to get an updated tag for it): no, not priceless. that shit has cost me over 750 dollars already and i still have to climb in from the passenger's side (75$ to fix door handle but, alas, i am finally out of money).

getting evicted from your apartment because you spent all of your money fixing your car: free (unless your landlord decides to sue you)

about me, personally.

so, i've gotten some nutty requests to make my blog more personal. to let myself open up and expose the dirt in my soul. the passions in my heart. right. if you know me at all, you know that is not very likely to happen. my blog, just as i am, is subtle in its emotional expression. its about me, sure, but you have to read between the lines to reach me. if you can't do that then you're just shit out of luck as my mama used to say.

in any case, since i cannot as yet be satisfyingly forthcoming with my internet friends i looked my name up on googlism.com to see what insights the internet has into my psyche. here are the ones i picked from the long list it supplied. that should give you a start at least.


this is me

"jenna is" (take one):

"jenna is not quite sure how it's all done but jenna is ecstatic jenna is insisting it is her decision alone jenna is feeling sick jenna is crazy about rod but wonders exactly where jenna is jenna is to imagine a television that has lost its reception jenna is torn about her future jenna is a really nice girl and really smart jenna is a slave jenna is more than a woman jenna is a chameleon jenna is all business on the wrestling mat jenna is going to be going on hiatus jenna is a cheerful and sociable girl with a strong independent streak jenna is insane to the point of absurdity jenna is soon displaced jenna is now dead jenna is in love with art jenna is no dumbass jenna is able to see visitors jenna is also befrinded by the novel's smartest character jenna is a wonderful shoesalesperson jenna is still with her rescuer but is searching for a forever home
jenna is waiting
jenna is like that also in real life"