The Super Serious Blogski

Ok, so I don’t know why this always happens on an obviously sarcastic-ly titled blog, but it has become serious again-! ALWAYS! Like so many of my friends, I become a perfectionist serious kid and write about somber topics. 

I’ll save you time and just make this short: I drove from 1:30 a.m. on Tuesday to 9:30 a.m. (stopped at a full rest-stop halfway and napped in the back seat for 3.5 hours because I was DEAD tired and falling asleep) to go see my grandparents for a few days. My parents ended up hosting me for a day because all I wanted to do was get sleep, but the next 3 days were spent with them at their house. 

They’ve loved it. I can tell. It’s been very funny & nice to be able to have some days to do this on my all-too-short break from school. They told me to visit whenever I want and come to them for help/ advice whenever I want :) Grandpa took me to the golf course every day and grandma gave me things to read. My aunt made some meals. All-in-all, great choice. 

Everyone should take the time to do this. It’s not a sacrifice, rather a learning and enjoying opportunity. The Chinese really know what’s up with respecting elders and keeping families together. 

Stress does weird things. 2 weeks ago there was a particularly stressful day/ evening that resulted in a dream that I think my subconscious used to comfort me: Outdoor movie/ music in some lush, green park with a medium dog on my lap- left leg. There’s a little boy running around laughing and he runs over to sit on my right leg. I hug them and we all sit and watch the movie. Apparently this is my happy place.

Sometimes it just seems like a series of unintentionally fucking up. 

When I was 19, my new best friend was a girl I met/ roomed with while studying Italian in Italy. We were in a small town and every day we would run to class in the morning so that we wouldn’t be late for our 3 classes, sometimes grabbing THE MOST DELICIOUS olive bread I’ve had in my life. 

That summer I lost my faith.

That summer I was taught to cook… (with EVOO, garlic, and fresh tomatoes at that!)

That summer I met the love of my life…?

That summer was the first time that people didn’t like me because of who I associated closely with. (They negatively lumped me into whatever they wanted.)

And that summer I learned to let go of caring about those types of things so much. (I was a virgin who had kissed her first boy merely 2 years earlier. I knew who I was and had to let go of what people assume of beautiful women. People can ASSyouME some terrible things when they are jealous and hateful…)

To this day I have the same (long distance) best friend. 

To this day I am cooking up fun concoctions (7 years later).

To this day I love the same guy (on a 2 month break, but hey… cross-country is no piece of cake!). 

And to this day, I know that others’ false assumptions of me can sometimes not be helped and that I have no control over that. I am more confident in enjoying life Despite what anyone falsely accuses me of. 

I am a good person. I work hard. I love people. 

I don’t give myself away freely, but I DO love (mentally) everyone. If you have a problem with people like that, that’s not my problem ;) 

Today: Feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Saw 23 fam members from Sat to Tues and the majority of them have some stomach/ throat virus it seems. Superb, since I have no time to dilly dally until Monday the 15th. 

Finished today: 

-2 very healthy meals

-1 major paper for class w/ photo

-2 late papers 

To finish still: 

-shower

-another late paper

-a short presentation

-some photos to go in said presentation

-ANOTHER PAPER

To do tomorrow:

-Completely redo a paper

-Look over a reading (and 6 other readings…) and prepare questions for a discussion

-Reshoot another project

-Write a paper

And then I have to drive to and from L.A. on Monday for work. And somehow send out 8 items from the post office…? And attend my roommate’s gallery thing. In Santa Barbara.

If I don’t die by Tuesday, I have to compile 15 photos and write journal entries for them within 2 days. Then compile photos taken in class and write journal entries for those, too. And then go down to L.A. and back for work again on Thurs along with attend a friend’s gallery down in L.A. The next week and a half will surely be great for this virus thing… 

At the end, I get 2 days off (WHAT?!) and then my parents visit. Woooooooooo life. 

Almost 20 hours: AWAKE. Drive across states from 3-10 am. Eat, change, put on adhesive bra, AND make-up in car because…? Too stubborn to stop the car. Buy kids sunglasses. WORK. Work some more. Rip butt of skin-tight skirt from bending over laughing ridiculously hard at inappropriate group texts from fellow grad students. Someone tells you of said gaping hole. Coffee gets you so excited someone thinks your crazy face is your, “I’m about to cry” face. They make you MODEL freaking model pants and a scarf… on camera… for a website that’s seen across the world. You haven’t showered and your tube top doesn’t reach the top of the pants they gave you. You lose concept of reality. You shoot products to prepare for actually working for them in the future. Co-workers shoot your tapioca balls into each others’ mouths… and when you leave work, choreograph a semi lewd farewell. You somehow drive another almost 3 hours home. The only thing you unpack from the car is a giant bull skull. You think posting on facebook would be a good idea.  

Freshman year of college: 

I didn’t drink at first. I refused, saying, “This stuff tastes like piss” about all of the crap beer. (Still agree with this sentiment)

When I did, I would inevitably eventually disappear from social situations when I’d had too much, b-line home, and do one of the 2 depending on my mood:

1) Slink up to the top floor stairwell (that lead to NO where since the attic was locked) and maybe cry a little or sit quietly. This is also where I did hard philosophy homework when I needed to hash out my difficult argument graphs/ charts. 

or 

2) Go to my little DVD player, put in the 1997 The Dance Reunion Fleetwood Mac DVD that I stole from my mom, and sit on the floor and sing (until I sort of teared up sometimes) quietly until I heard my roommate unlocking the door to our bunk-bedded, 1-room dorm and then turn it off and try to act like I wasn’t being a complete introvert weirdo. 

I’m finding myself reverting back to these old ways, but in a more accepting way. I now realize that it’s ok for me to do these things and that I’m just a normal introvert trying to get some needed alone time. I’m no longer ashamed of needing to get away as much as Americans try to tell you that you’re a FREAK for not enjoying talking that much.

Dear Columbus Musician Friends, 

This all started with you. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this (I’m bad at communicating important things at times), but you really changed my direction in the big, huge, life-changing kind of way. Sorry… here’s the long/ short of how: 

Back in 2009 when I graduated college, I didn’t know much other than where I wanted to move. I had spent the previous few years visiting my boyfriend up in Columbus (via friends, sketchy van, Greyhound, and FINALLY the last year in a freaking car) a couple weekends a month. Though we never really went there, I fell in love with the Victorian Village. It was the last thing I had to drive through at the end of my 2 hr drives. I told myself, “I will live here at some point.” (Hopeless romantics not only romanticize love, but also places, their future, clothing… ridiculous things.)

I have known some of the crazies since 2008. Most of you I met in or around 2009. Little did I realize how large a role friendship and community would play in my first year living in Columbus. This was a weird time in my life and I doubt any of you knew that. You just kept being nice, inspirational, motivated, and talented.

<background FYI: Right before my ‘09 graduation, our family pet (who I chose & named) died, my mom pulled her achilles/ went through a rough patch, and most significantly, a very important person in our lives took his life (I later drove straight from a night class through the night over 5 hrs to his funeral).>

Post-graduation, I interned long distance (I like to intern almost 2 hrs away?!) for a few months. Luckily, it was paid. I then took over my boyfriend’s temp job, which lead to a diff. temp job that was becoming permanent. The job was making me miserable. First of all, I was basically a glorified secretary. Also unfortunate, I only worked with 3 others (2 bosses- married, middle-aged man) and the work environment quickly turned hostile. So hostile that the last day I worked there I had not only a full-blown eye stress twitch that kicked in hourly, but the cops were called… #hashtagbadtimes. **Apparently my bosses forgot to mention that they were in the midst of the messiest divorce I’ve ever seen/ been an odd part of… :( (They treated me like their daughter. I felt fought over. The separate goodbye lunches for me were accidentally double-booked for the same day… I went to lunches back-to-back. The dude had no idea, but he chose the EXACT SAME PLACE to eat at and I had to subtle-ly motion to the server to shut up/ not mention that I’d literally just walked out of there after eating merely minutes before. W.t.f.)

During all of these jobs, I would go to about 4 shows a week. At least. I went to my boyfriend’s 2 to 3 weekly gigs (getting barely any sleep before work), and then one or two on the weekends. I loved being around great music and creative people. I remember multiple times having the, “how’s life?” talk and I would always hear myself sounding so miserable. Finally, I was inspired! I had bought a dSLR camera the year before and was getting acquainted with pro-digital shooting at their music gigs. Back when I shot artsy things for classes in high school and college, I’d used B&W film and everything was very posed. Now I was working with very little lighting, movement, etc. 

I was obsessed.

Everyone grew accustomed to me bringing my camera to shows. I connected the dots. “I’m miserable at my job… but I’m creative. They play music for a living. I want to shoot for a living.” That was it. I’d decided. I made a website, quit my job, picked up a job at the best local ice cream kitchen, made a fan page, and began shooting weddings every few weekends. I have no idea how it all ended up working out, but it did. 

As I grew, so did my knowledge. I began getting better at predicting what settings to choose for my camera given lighting patterns and time of day, and upgraded my equipment a few times (costly!). I was committed. And the constant remained: going to friends’ gigs and shooting a few photos (haha, “few”) just for fun. 

By now, exactly 3 years later, I am so thankful that I had/ still have these creatives in my life. I read something as I got in my car to drive home from my CORPORATE COMMERCIAL PHOTO STUDIO JOB in L.A. (whaaaaaaat?!?) today and it made me tear up. I flashed back to my 3.5 years living in Columbus (and years visiting) and realized how unique our community was/ is. I have literally never had that in my life before/ since. 

Some people look back and wish they could re-live college, high school, childhood, etc. These things were well & fine. I always had a friend or multiple friends throughout these times/ places. Never, though, have I ever had such a supportive, creative community, so sometimes I find myself wishing to re-live the confusing 2009-2010 times. Finally after a lifetime of listening to people tell me who to be and how to act, I was able to be within a group who pushed me to finally share my art (holy shit you have no idea what a big deal that was…), flaws and all, and believe that I can be more than what someone else thinks is acceptable. And it didn’t hurt that everyone was pretty intelligent and had great taste… 

I never trusted anyone enough to share my personal art, aspirations, poems, drawings, etc., but now I’m in a freaking graduate program in FINE ART. It’s a freaking dream come true. I told multiple people when I was in first grade that I aspired to be an Art Teacher and was told to get a new dream. No. Now I am ignoring nay-sayers. Though I don’t share my poetry (write it only when I feel negative/ sad), I am glad that I’m able to convey the beauty I see in others via photographs. People tend to be to hard on themselves and spend so much time obsessing over their flaws, that they genuinely don’t understand how wonderful they are. I like to listen to them talk/ watch them interact in the world and then photograph them in a way that lets their inner light shine so that everyone else can see what I see. That sounds hippy-esque, but meh. I can often be sarcastic, but at least I truly believe in the goodness of people. It’s gotten me this far. 

Anywho, thank you for reminding me of who I am at the core and opening the door so that I could see my own potential through your successes. I promise to continue to grow, share, and help you in return as much as I am able. And hit me up if you need somewhere to crash in California, Arizona, Indiana, Michigan, etc.

Love you guys,

Jenny

P.S. The music out here is few & far between. PLEASE come tour here so I can show these people what real stage presence/ crowd interaction is & let them hear what real music sounds like… #ihaveahouse #andblowupmattress #cmon

P.P.S. I’m excited to have been able to shoot more edgy & thought-provoking art lately. I hope to be able to challenge people with some new art that integrates some social psychological stuff. 

What makes people stalk others they don’t even know…?! Memories of one real life stalker just gave me numerous nightmares of running. Not cool. Men (and women) need to learn how to stop obsessing over people they don’t know. And what appropriate, normal behavior is. “I saw your parents driving you,” “I saw your bra strap through your shirt at school,” “carved a glass for you,” “I’m going to move to CA in a couple years so we can be together,” etc. is shit you should not say to someone who is a fucking stranger. Really. If I were more rational and less afraid I would have filed so many restraining orders by 24. 

I guess it calms me. 

I have been traveling back from the midwest ALL DAY thus far (legit 3 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.) and as SOON as I got to my place I was starving because all I’d had was half a champagne mango at the airport, a mini bag of pretzels, and a mini bag of honey peanuts (along with 2 seltzer waters- which I suggest since the plane regular water tastes like gasoline or something not good). 

Needless to say, I just finished up chopping up a bunch of kale and made 2 batches of kale chips, cut up 2 heads of broccolini to cook later, made a cup of miso soup, and also a cup of baked beans. That’s how I spent my first hour home. 

I need a freaking dog to walk and cuddle with.