A Shout Out to My Peeps

My novel is going HORRIBLY, thanks for asking.

The Story of Ash

Today was one of those good days that is just good. And I have too much in my head to write it all down, too many possibilities for posts. So instead of boring you with the details of my day (meeting, lunch, work), I’ve decided I’m just going to start my series of posts about my closest friends.

And I’ll start with the post about Ash, because, if for no other reason, she’s the one I’ve known the longest.

Ash was a doctor’s daughter. It just happened that back in Arizona a lot of my friends had parents who were doctors. At one point there was pretty much a group of us, a bunch of doctors’ kids, and me, the pilot’s daughter. Our parents all knew each other, which I was always confunkled by, asking my dad how in the world he knew all the doctors.

But anyway.

Me and Ash had gone to school together forever. In first grade I didn’t even really know her name and we weren’t friends but it was her group (the very same group, more or less, that I became a part of during sixth grade), and her in particular, that always asked me to play Hot Lava Monster with them. Now, I used to assume that Hot Lava Monster was just one of those playground games that ALL KIDS know, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe it was just a local game. Whatever, it’s a complicated game of tag. And she was always asking me to play with them and I was always saying no, shaking my head, being embarrassed of how tired I got when I ran. How I couldn’t run.

Second grade went by. Third, fourth, fifth grades went by. And then we were in sixth grade, the both of us plus part of her “group” in Mr. A’s class. I sat at the same cluster of desks as them and I remember choosing them when I didn’t know anyone in the class, because they looked like nice, unassuming, friendly girls.

What happened next was this: I became part of the group. The four of us ate lunch together, joked together, did the yearbook page together. Sometimes their other friends would join us. And slowly it happened. I went from being that girl that they included because she sat next to them, to just one of the gang. This time period is also surrounded by other things that happened, things like my heart surgery and my dad going to work for one of Ash’s other friends that I didn’t know. I don’t know what those two things had to do with the first thing, but somehow they all seemed intertwined together.

Seventh grade…

eighth grade…

ninth grade…

and all this time me and Ash are becoming better friends. We never hang out outside of school; we never call on the phone and we rarely email, but we are undisputedly the quietest of the group. Our sense of humor seems slightly different from theirs and we often share quiet jokes that the rest of them don’t get. We are in few of the same classes but we often meet between classes, and always at lunch. She is sweet and kind and always seems to notice me more than our other friends do. When we stand in a circle, she’s the one making sure I’m not on the outside, she’s the one cluing me in on the conversation when I’m out of the loop. I can tell by looking at her what sort of mood she’s in and on days when she seems sad and less jokey than the others, than she normally is, I just smile at her and try to be there for her the way a friend is. I ask how she’s doing, ask if anything’s wrong, and when she says no and I don’t entirely believe her, I just let it go. Because I think people should be allowed to be sad if they feel sad. There are times when I am like this too, days before the move (or at least before I was allowed to tell anyone about it) when I don’t feel like talking to anyone, ever, when I just want to be alone. On those days she is the only one I talk to and she never pushes, is always there, and always her quiet smile seeming to assure me that I’ve got a friend.

Don’t mistake me: we weren’t best friends, we weren’t even outside-of-school friends. We didn’t talk about everything, we didn’t talk a lot at all. But she was always there and there was never any doubt that she cared.

After the move I lose touch. I lose touch with other friends. Michael, Lee, Hannah, Taylor H., Kristen, Kelly, Lacey, even Kelsey whose class I was in all through elementary school I barely talk to. There are months were me and Ash don’t talk too, but then things change. I ask how people are doing and she tells me. We share the stories that happen in our lives. I tell her how lonely I am, how I have no friends, and she doesn’t blame me as others have, or say that it’s because I’m too quiet; she knows I’m quiet because she’s the same. We talk about boys and I tell her about the guy I like. Later I tell her when it falls through and she is there. She tells me about the guy she likes, a guy I knew, and I am happy for her. We talk about religion and spirituality with a mutual respect although our beliefs are quite different. I ask questions about her beliefs and she asks about mine and we never argue points.

One day I go out alone, shopping (for books, obviously) and then to eat. It’s fun, but I get home a little bit melancholy, wishing I didn’t spend so many days alone. But I’d left my computer on while I was out and when I get home there’s a message from Ash.

hey i know you’re ‘away’ but i just wanted to say hi! i haven’t talked to you in a while hope you’re doing well!

And after all this time the big thing about Ash is still that she’s always on my same team.

No Vote

So I get home from work, have a short argument with my sister over the air conditioner, put some ice cream in the freezer, and turn my computer on and go to the MSN homepage (wait – is that one word or two??) where this is one of their big stories:

and then it takes me like three times reading it for it to click, for me to connect the story about Jehovah’s Witnesses with the fact that I am a Jehovah’s Witness. (I’m like that sometimes. Once I read a book where one of the main characters had the same last name as me and the whole time I was thinking, Wow that’s a really familiar name; where have I heard that before? DUH.)

Anyway. The point is that I was pretty surprised to see this as one of the main stories on the MSN page. It made me happy. And was kind of coincidental because just a couple weeks ago I was talking to one of my friends ABOUT THIS VERY THING (i.e. why I’m old enough to vote but don’t). (And yes, I’m aware I used i.e. incorrectly.)

So that was cool.

Also? I officially hate coming up with titles for my posts.

Camp So-Much-Better-Than-HSM

I’m. So. Tired.

I don’t even know why, but I am.

Also, have you guys seen Camp Rock? Because it is like a zillion times better than stupid High School Musical. I actually really liked this one! Although I still say Disney Channel needs some better dialogue writers because EVERYTHING SOUNDS SO CHEESY. (The embarrassing thing is that I ALMOST BOUGHT THE CAMP ROCK SOUNDTRACK YESTERDAY… and, um, I still might.)

But anyways. I managed to clean my gunked-up CDs last night and now I’ve got the pleasure of listening to a Fountains of Wayne CD that doesn’t skip. So, yay!

But I bet you’re wondering what’s been going on in my life lately.

Well. I’ll tell you.

My dad is still gone. And I still miss him. And then next week my mom jets off to go see him and me and Taylor the Lovely are left to fend for ourselves for two weeks. Although that really isn’t as bad as it sounds; it’s not as if we live in the Artic and have to hunt for our food or anything. It will be fine. It will be fun. I am just a little nervous and scared. I know I’m technically an “adult,” but I don’t feel like it and this is a little nerve-wracking. But it will be fine. We will go see Hancock or something. (I want to see Wall-E too but the little sister says she DOESN’T LIKE PIXAR. What kind of human being IS SHE? Doesn’t like The Beatles, doesn’t want to see Wall-E… how sad.)

I started my new job. Yay! I have income! This is very good news on the Mac front. Also it is not nearly as boring as my last job, so that’s good.

Yesterday I ran into one of the ladies from the writers’ critique group I used to go to. She works at Starbucks and she talked me into coming back to the group this next Thursday. Which is. Um. Well. Let’s see… I don’t mind going back; the group wasn’t particularly helpful to me but I still kind of enjoyed it. However, I quit going way back when. Way back when BEFORE I had my essay published in Red. So I’ll have to tell them about it. And I just don’t know why this is freaking me out so much BUT IT TOTALLY IS. One thing’s for sure: I’m not reading it in front of them. That would be way too embarrassing. It’s one thing to read in front of strangers and friends and another thing entirely to read such a personal piece in front of people I kind-of-but-don’t-really know. Besides that usually when I read it there’s a point where I almost start crying and that’s just not cool. So yeah. Not reading it.

But I am going to try and set up a reading at THE MOST AWESOME BOOKSTORE IN THE WORLD (I know, I know, I say that about pretty much every bookstore – what’s your point?) when the paperback comes out. So that’ll be good except it’ll probably just be me and none of the other girls (I don’t think any of them live around here) or Amy (or wonderful editor). Sad sad.

AND OMG I’M WATCHING BROTHERHOOD 2.0 AND THE NEW BOOK IN THE BLURBING BOOK CLUB IS CATCHER IN THE RYE!! Which is awesome because I haven’t done that blurbing book club yet because there hasn’t been a book I cared to read but I LOVE CATCHER IN THE RYE SO MUCH. Also, how awesome would it be to have a copy of Girl at Sea signed by John Green? VERY AWESOME. Probably awesomer than having a copy of one of his own books signed by him. Because I’m weird like that.

Anyway, to sum up: I like Camp Rock, my Fountains of Wayne CD is working, my life currenly involves my new job, my old writing group, Dad being gone, and I want a Maureen Johnson book signed by John Green. (Or a John Green book signed by Maureen Johnson; I’m not picky.)

This Whole Post Is Awesome

Just a few ramblings of what’s in my head.

• Life of Pi is boring. Boring boring boring! I’ve made it through the first chapter and really I’m not sure if I should keep going of if I’ll die of boredom. Please, someone, tell me this book gets better.
• MUST. GET. MAC. I went to the Apple store today and ooooh wow. I love the keyboard. It is my new best buddy. And say what you must, but when you type as much as I do (or am supposed to… come on Jordyn, get cracking on that novel! 3,000 is NOTHING TO BE PROUD OF. You’ve got miles to go, babe) that MATTERS. Really really much.
• I actually (prepare yourselves…) like some of Justin Timberlake’s music. Gasp! Trust me, none more surprised than I.
• My wonderous mother helped me to make all my books fit. She gave me one of those standy-uppy magazine holder things for all my issues of Psychology Today.
• Note to Meg: WE ARE GOING TO SEE GET SMART. I do not know when, but we will! Because if I don’t see it I will positively DIEEEE. (Like my dramatics?)
• Also, I must see Wall-E. I wonder why I never go see movies anymore. The second I moved was the second I stopped going to theaters, which is kinda odd I admit. But hellooo, my old movie buddy’s back in Arizona (and I miss her)! Going to Hannah Montana concerts! (Um, not that I’m jealous of that last part. Just saying.)
• I love Jason Mraz’s new song (with Colbie Callait), Lucky. Must get CD!
• Today I had an epiphany. Concerning why I am not so much into the fashion. And, SHOCKER, mostly it really has nothing to do with clothing at all. MOSTLY. (Also, it is kind of a messed up reason. Blarg.)
• I miss my dad. It feels weird around here without him. Always does, but even more so this time for some reason.

So. Hi. Wasn’t that just a fantabulous list?

Yep yep yep.

Anyhow.

(Note how the Jordyn is stalling for time while she thinks of what to say next.)

I wish I had some funny stories for you guys. The funniest story I have right now is actually really lame and involves my sandwich and the wind. Okay, okay, I’ll tell it.

So a few weeks ago I was eating a Quizno’s sandwich outside. Blahblahblah all is good yumyumyum. AND THEN THE WIND BLEW MY SANDWICH ONTO THE GROUND.

Ker-wha!??

Okay, yes, it frustrated me and made me angry. But really, wind, THAT’S ALL YOU’VE GOT. I’m from Radiator Springs. In order to impress me you have to really go out of your way. Make a two-story house shake. Pull a seven year old around and make her fear for her life. RIP A MAILBOX RIGHT OUT OF THE GROUND.

In fact, do even more than that. I’ve lived all those things before.

But pulling my sandwich (I keep spelling it sandwish for some reason) to the ground? NOT TOO IMPRESSIVE.

Listen Up

Dear Self,

I have a few things to say. A few words of wisdom if you will. And you have to listen because I know SO MUCH MORE than you. So listen up.

For starters, sometimes people say things just to say things. And sometimes those things don’t make much sense. Don’t get too wrapped around the axel about it; people are just so stupid is all and really to be honest with you I don’t think their brains always work quite right.

Also. You know how sometimes you kind of go a little haywire and get really sad for no reason? Guess what. THERE’S A REASON. Always. You just don’t always know what that reason is and also the reasons rarely make any sense. (However they do usually have to do with your expectations for yourself and comparisons to others. Comparisons you shouldn’t necessarily be making quite so often. It might be healthy if you eased up a bit.)

On that same note: you seem to get anxious rather easily. Also, often. I realize, of course, that you know this and are trying to stop it and I’m just here to let you know that you should keep trying. It is not healthy to be so anxious. IT IS A PROBLEM.

 While we’re hovering around the subject of problems, do you know that whenever people ask how you are doing you automatically reply, “good?” Well, you do. And not that it’s not a perfectly acceptable answer most times, but it’s just not ALWAYS. For example. Sometimes you have headaches. Actually you OFTEN have headaches (I don’t know why; probably because of all your needless anxiety) and these headaches make you snap at your mom. Or your sister. And then when they ask how you’re feeling YOU SAY YOU’RE FEELING GOOD WHEN IT IS A TOTAL LIE. (Now I know you don’t mean to lie and it just slips out, but could you check your answers before they leave your lips, please? It would really save me a lot of trouble.)

Now for a few general tips to help you with life.

• When you mention to your friends how weird/insane/pathetic/crazy/wrong you are, do not be suprised or taken aback when they agree. After all YOU SAID IT, not them. THEY ARE JUST BEING SUPPORTIVE.
• Do not ask questions hoping for a certain answer; you will most always be disappointed.
• Your best friend is always going to disagree with you. On. Everything. (Almost everything, that is.) You just have to accept this and love her anyways.
• If this is even possible, try to remember that all those little things that crack you up about your sister make her feel bad when you tease her about them. She obviously doesn’t see how funny/cute she is and she DOESN’T GET IT when you point it out to her. In fact, just the opposite, she perceives it as you being mean to her.
• You know how you sometimes go over things over and over again in your mind because IT JUST DOESN’T MAKE SENSE? Yeah. Stop that. Sometimes things just don’t make sense and you should be used to that by now. (The funny thing about this is you never get like this with the Big Stuff, it’s always the little stuff that consumes you in this way. You’re a very odd sort of girl.)

Additionally…

Stop feeling guilty. Just quit it. Most of the things you feel guilty about are things that really have nothing to do with you anyways and the other things all have to do with your unreasonable expectations for yourself. Jordyn, you are a human. NOT PERFECT. HUMAN. Not just human either, but a TEENAGE HUMAN. Slipping up is allowed. (So is watching John & Kate Plus 8 when you think that clearly you should be doing something productive like, uh, I don’t know, saving the world or going out with people or something.)

Speaking of GOING OUT WITH PEOPLE and having the typical life you (so often) think you should have, it’s okay. It’s okay that you don’t. Really. Other people’s lives aren’t as great as you imagine them to be and you know that when you take a step back from all the ridiculous comparisons you really do love your life. And you know why? Because it’s frikkin awesome.

So there.

Oh, also? You know that when you’re really in a bummy mood you can go watch Brotherhood 2.0 for a made of awesome laugh, right? Try and remember that a little more.

With love and hugs,

Jord

Underground Penguin League

Okay I really do have something to talk about.

Problem: I can’t figure out how to say it.

Solution: Talk about something else.

Like this picture.

Oh wait.

A bad thing to do when you’re writing a blog post of your own is to go check out MJ’s blog. Because suddenly your mind becomes full of shiny pink Vespas and bunny rabbits and when you finally get back to your own blog you have no idea what you were supposed to be doing there in the first place.

But I think I was talking about frozen penguins. Or something like that.

Anyway, my mom has this Styrofoam cooler. She brought it home from work, so I’m almost afraid to ask what was in it before it came into her possession. My general rule in dealing with this thing is to STAY AWAY. Or, you know, that was the general rule until I saw the sticker on it. The sticker pictured below, the one I had to capture with my camera.

This is the sticker.

My fear is that this sticker, the penguin picture with the red SLASH through it, means DO NOT STORE FROZEN PENGUINS IN THIS THING.

Which worries me, really. Because in order for warnings that come with symbols to be on something, there has to be a need for it, right? I mean those no smoking signs are clearly around to keep people from smoking, and the THIS CUP IS HOT warning on your coffee cup is there because we’re all idiots who don’t realize that coffee might be warmish.

I get that.

But this one just freaks me out. Because really, how many people are going around toting frozen penguins in their Styrofoam coolers? Are there a lot? Is that why they’re on the endangered list? (They are on the endangered list, right? I didn’t just make that up?) Is there an underground league of people who store penguins in these coolers or something? If so, what do they call themselves? And are they for good or for evil?

Obviously the warning sticker would say they’re for evil. Like, these are the people who kill penguins and then sell them on the black market or something.

But maybe this underground league is just horribly misunderstood. Maybe what they really do is rescue penguins and then send them up to the North Pole where they can live in happyness and ice for the rest of their natural lives.

I don’t know about you guys, but I like to think that the Underground Penguin League are the good guys. (The bad guys, obviously, are KAOS.)

No Parking

Dear Person Who Shant Be Named,

I know you said (numerous times) (numerous, numerous times) that you like my blog better with pictures. But I don’t. This isn’t to say I won’t be posting pictures, because as you know I am deeply in love with the red camera and will most certainly post some of my finest work, but as far as blogs go… I am all about the words.

And really, what do you expect? I mean really. You’ve lived with me for fourteen years. You see the state of my bookcase on a daily basis. You know that 85% of the time when you ask me what I’m doing the answer is going to be, “writing.”

So this is my blog. It is full of words. (Although I may open up a photography page, so look for that.)

Sincerely, Me.

*****

In other news, for the rest of you friendlies, guess what I hate.? (I’m never sure if those sort of sentences are supposed to have periods or question marks at the end. Ah, eternal ponderings.)

Besides the dentist.

PARKING.

I mean, I’m a fairly good driver. In spite of how incredibly long it took me to actually get a driver’s license (three driving tests, no joke), I haven’t done anything dastardly with the car. I haven’t crashed (although I did scrape against the wall once), haven’t got(ten?) a ticket, haven’t been pulled over. The worst of my driving habits seems to be that my car’s always a mess.

But.

I hate parking. Am no good at it. Must repark like seventy bazillion times. I dread packed parking lots because one of my greatest fears seems to be hitting someone else’s car with my own car. And whenever I get out of the car I look at how I’m parked and, even if it’s an okay job, even if it’s a good job, I think to myself that it’s the worst parking job IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE and everyone who walks by is going to laugh and point it out to their friends and wonder who in the world parks so crappily.

Me, folks. I park so crappily. Me. I try not too; I try really really hard. But I still do. It’s just one of those things. One of those things, along with athleticism and KNOWING WHAT CLOTHES MATCH, that I pretty much suck at.

I’m a Hippie Man Riding in My Hippie Van

Okay so a few days back I might have mentioned that I have funny stories from Mason and Lala’s visit to share with you guys.

And then, as I always seem to do, I PROMPTLY FORGOT ABOUT THEM. Which is why I’m writing this post now; I’m afraid if I wait until the morning (instead of doing a THIRD POST for today) I’ll just forget again. And oh dear wouldn’t it be awful if that happened? You’d never get to read the hilariousity of my little cuzzies!!

Mason and Lala are Clint’s kids and my littlest set of sibling cousins. Mason’s nine and Lala’s six. YET I REMEMBER THEM AS MASON BEING FIVE AND LALA BEING TWO. Woo I am getting old here, people (which reminds me: call Sarah before she totally dumps you as a friend) (not that Sarah is old; did not mean to imply that).

But anyhow. Point is that (a) Masonite and Lala are young and, (b) I don’t know them as well as I know some of my other cousins. So I wasn’t sure what sort of personalities to expect. After all, the last time I was around Lala very much she was a baby and friendlies, THE GIRL HATED ME. She would honest to god start crying every time she saw me.

It broke my little heart. I love my cousins so very much and she was the first one to dislike me with such ferocity and at such a young age.

Luckily she doesn’t hate me anymore. Although she did have her Madi Moments where she was SO VERY MAD at me and said she didn’t like me. Wouldn’t talk to me, hid her face from me, that sort of stuff. But then there were the funny times. Like the following conversation, which happened when we were all outside eating green bean burritos that my mom had made.

me: Taylor, you want some salsa? Mason, salsa? Lala, you want any salsa?

Lala: You are the weirdest person I have ever met. [and she says it with the straightest, most serious face in the world]

me: What! [turning to Mason] Does she not like salsa or something?

And then she said the same thing to me a couple more times over the course of the visit. It was crazy. I mean, I know I’m certifiably weird, but I didn’t know it was SO OBVIOUS.

Then there was this, which happened shortly after the whole “salsa” incident.

Taylor:Layla [Lala] said I would look weird without my braces.

me: Lala, did you say that?

Lala:Nooo, I said she would look cuter.

me: See, Taylor, she said you would look cuter, not weird.

Lala: And you would look cute too, if you didn’t have those spots on your face.

me: [erupts in laughter]

Lala: You would look cute, but she would still look cuter.

me: [Cannot. stop. laughing. I wanted to tell her maybe she shouldn't make those kinds of observations, lest she say it to someone more sensitive than I, but I just couldn't. I was laughing too much.]

Also, Masonite. The kid is awesome. I mean, I remembered him being awesome from when he was five and stacked dixie cups to make pyramids, but he’s grown even more awesome over the years.

Example: He loves country music. Especially, as it turns out, Beer for My Horses. So when we went to Albie’s he was singing it the entire time. Picture a nine year old boy going around singing this: Justice is the one thing you should always find/ You gotta saddle up your boys, you gotta draw a hard line/ When the gun smoke settles we’ll sing a victory tune/ And we’ll all meet up at the local saloon/ We’ll raise up our glasses against evil forces/ Singing, whisky for my men, beer for my horses. And now imagine me singing along too and us discussing whether or not horses actually drink beer. Good times, my friends, good times.

Even better though, was after the kid had a root beer float in him. I’m not sure what exactly happened, but he went a little insane. We’d seen people dressed as hippies that day (also: Star Wars characters and disco queens) and I guess that was in his head when the Masonite begun singing this little ditty: I’m a hippie man/ I’m a hippie man/ Riding in my hippie van.

Later on, after his dad told him that hippies were drunks, probably hoping he’d stop singing, he amended it to say: I’m a hippie man/ I’m a hippie man/ I’m a loner and a drunk in my hippie van. Hilarious.

Have I mentioned I love my cousins?

Funny Stuff, Hopefully

Friendlies, I’ve been noticing lately that I seem to be doing A LOT of serious posts and not so many funny ones. Which I’m kind of wondering about seeing as how I really do like the funny and the only reason I’m not using it so much lately is because, I don’t know, the serious just seems to be in my mind.

It’s weird.

(And of course, my “funny” is very subjective. Really what I mean, in case you’re all thinking I think way too much of my funny skillage, is “less serious and more lighthearted” – that’s too long to type though.)

So I’m putting it out there for YOU TO VOTE, which YOU BETTER, because how else will I know if people mind all the serious or not?

Which do you prefer? 1) Serious posts. 2) Funny posts. 3) Either. Both! 4) Funny? You’re not funny! 5) Did you know Nathan Bransford was nominated for Hottest Guy in Publishing over at Gawker??View Results Make your own poll

Anyway.

I haven’t been keeping up with Nathan Bransford’s blog nearly as much as I usually do and have deteriorated from checking it daily to, like, thrice a week. But a few days ago I saw this post labeled “Thanks, Gawker. I Think.” And then underneath had a link to vote for the hottest guy in publishing.

First thought: Huh.

Second thought: Wait. They have contests for this kind of stuff? Laughs like hyena. But only in my own head. Or maybe out loud, who knows?

No, I didn’t vote. It seems more embarrassing than anything else, like the time in ninth grade AcaDec when Andrea gave Neil a christmas card and wrote that he was cute, then Teddy read it in front of the class (yes, he stood up and read it in front of the entire class) so that Neil had a permanent blush for the rest of class. It was funny, but I always just feel embarrassed for others when they get embarrassed.

Plus I really need to stop saying “embarrassed” because I never know how to spell it.

In other news, Taylor the Lovely says that I, or at least the pictures I take of me, look like a Chinese doll.

Like this, only without the hair up. And the Chinese outfit.

Which is odd because (a) I am not Chinese, not even a little bit, but (b) people have always said that I look a little Chinese. Or that my eyes do at least.

However in this highly photoshopped picture my eyes mostly just look scary. Which IS WHAT I WAS GOING FOR.

Also.

You know how before I was TOTALLY ON A CRUSADE TO MAKE YOU ALL BELIEVE I WAS A TELEVISION HOUND?

Well I think I’m back on it. My looooved shows that are now on?

1. Jon & Kate Plus 8. Yes, okay, I didn’t like this show at first. I realize that, TAYLOR. But that was just me being prejudgmental and now that I’ve seen it I love it. Love it so much. Eight kids! All cute! A very chaotic house! And funny stuff!!
2. My Boys. Yay! My Boys is back!! Woot woot!
3. The Bill Engvall Show. I don’t love this one quite as much as the others, but it’s still hilarious.

Later, friendlies.