Tuesday, December 20, 2011
I have the time to write. And the desire, so...here's to late-night blogging.
I've found myself at the pinnacle of my college education--surprisingly enough, from here on out I have less ahead of me than behind.
Seasoned am I.
And as a conclusion, even as a veteran among my freshman counterparts, I admit I just experienced the most defining semester of my young adult life.
I witnessed betrayal and confronted a broken heart.
I relied on my soul mates and rediscovered strength.
I created purpose and redirected by pursuits.
I chose happiness over hatred and festered over my potential.
I made investments and spent too much money.
I offered apologies and begged for second chances.
I found a boy and fell in love.
The semester I've been anticipating since I graduated Dixie High School; an entire season of "FIRST"s and "LAST"s.
The FIRST time I've ever used my Master Card to make a purchase exceeding
1. the worth of my seven-year-old Saturn Ion.
2. the amount of my 2011 tax return.
3. the total amount of gas money I spent traveling to the East Coast, and back.
I'll defend that purchase til the day I die and spend any given opportunity justifying my actions. Though, there is a very obvious sting associated with paying off $50 accessory pillows in increments of the "minimum payment". Yes, plural pillows and yes the biggest purchase of my life, thus far, has been on designing the bed of my dreams.
It was an investment, and I am an fool.
This October was the FIRST time I've ever used the one curse I vowed I'd never, ever say.
I imagine the "LAST time I ever said that curse I vowed I'd never, ever say" declaration will be in another post. New habits...die hard? :)
November 25th: The LAST time I ever worked a Black Friday in a blue polo.
I tried eggnog for the FIRST time, ever.
An event I recognize as a FIRST and a LAST...
I was kissed in the aisles of a library, for the FIRST time.
I Nerf'd and Grooveshark'd for the FIRST time too.
I watched an episode of The Unit, had a desire to perfect my German accent, ice skated with my eyes closed, and ate tiramisu!!
Hopefully those exclamation points are as nauseating to you as they were to me. Especially considering the rhyme they are exclaiming--it must be four in the morning.
The past few months even encouraged a legitimate interest in the logistics of the military. That's a FIRST.
I changed guitar strings for the FIRST time and purchased a Victoria's Secret bra.
And when I say "I changed guitar strings for the FIRST time and purchased a VS bra," I regret to clarify that those happenings were indeed two separate events.
And when I say "a bra," I mean two bras. Naturally.
In October I had my FIRST kiss with that same boy I have fallen and am falling in love with. I'm hoping that occasion finds something in common with my eggnog experiment.
It would be a fulfillment of my best made plans to recognize that as a FIRST and a LAST.
Considerably more FIRSTS than LASTS, but an acceptable summary of my past few months and a gateway leading right into New Year's resolutions.
1. Stop saying that one word..
The FIRST one to greet this morning, and the LAST one to go to bed.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Friday, April 1, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Monday, December 6, 2010
Once upon a time, there was a girl – a girl too dependent on her afternoon naps, too rebellious for a bed time, and a girl who had recently fell victim to the itch of adventure. Among other things, she was also a dedicated plasma donator and lacking any sense of responsibility, (no she is not blogging comfortably from the bitter-sweet lounge of her dusty-blue plasma throne.) When her unconventional sleep pattern acknowledged the inconvenience of real life, a peculiar, though comical and slightly humiliating, occurrence began to emerge; Girl, she who shall not be named, fell asleep everywhere, anywhere, and as often as inopportune.
Savasana: 7 o’clock yoga class has never been so riled. Not only has “the new girl” hacked her way through relaxation – due to a baaad and slightly eternal case of the whooping cough -- , disrupting the very hint of inner peace, BUT she falls asleep during the closing Savasana, everyday. Not once, not twice, but EVERY class I’ve attended. I wake up to an empty room and the sweet taste of dry mouth, thank you **rabbit-face.
Les Schwab: Because a tire shop is the most desirable place to take a power nap? Eventually face down, at the attempt of browsing a magazine irrelevant to my interest OR pursuits, I was awoken by my sister Sierra, via phone call. “Hello?” “What are you do..” “I just fell asleep at the tire shop.” I drooled a little, don’t judge me -- that magazine’s one purpose what to absorb the effects of a long anticipated siesta.
I’d like to say this is something new, that I haven’t always had narcoleptic tendencies…but I have. Let us revisit the past? Pay tribute to some of my finest moments?
Missionary discussions (2007): Feeling ambitious and experimental, I approached my Bishop about the idea of accompanying the missionaries to attend a few discussions – to experience the “authenticity” of mission life, in effort to test my involvement in the mission field. One second I was wide awake, bright and bushy tailed, if you will, in observation of the interactions between the sister missionaries and the eight year old boy we were scheduled to teach. Next thing I know, MUCH to my dismay, Sister Can’t-Remember-Her-Last-Name is creatively inviting me to share my testimony of the Book of Mormon, to both wake me up and provide my desired experience. Thus, I postponed the consideration of a mission for the next four years.
Arlington (Summer 2010): Potentially the most dangerous of all sleeps, but earning US (me and Laura Wilson) eternal bragging rights. Did we attempt a 5 hour drive to Washington DC at midnight? Yes. Did we eat waffles and French fries at an anonymous Denny’s at 2 am? Yes. Did we tour the city like champions, lacking any sleep or sense of direction? Yeah we did! Did we BOTH momentarily fall asleep on the historical grasses of a national cemetery? YEAH WE DID! Did we survive to tell the tale, and can I still recognize her as the gypsy I traveled the eastern side of the country with?? Yes we did, and yes I can. Love you sister friend – monster buck.
Take this for what it is though; confessions of a lethargic soul. It is suggested that one cannot fall asleep where one feels threatened, endangered, or uncomfortable. I just so happen to have the ability to abandon consideration of all three and slumber at the drop of a pin. World, I trust you.
** A deep sleep of Jessica Wilkinson will always include the notorious "rabbit face." My bottom lip falls open just enough to drastically showcase my two front teeth. Beware of that face, sleep talking will shortly follow.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
There's something beautiful and slightly entertaining about living on your own; no one to laugh at you, no one to laugh with you. The latter encourages a very awkward desperation for company -- it's a hard pill to swallow if you're prone to embarrassment, but being laughed at eases the discomfort of stupidity, clumsy occurrences, and quirk.
I dare say no one knows the volume of genuine laughter until it is echoed through the halls of an empty house. So, in order to cope with the battle of unaccompanied comedy, let us laugh via blogspot.
Times of undeniable entertainment and sincere solitude:
Being the first and only somebody to witness my first moments of consciousness after 6 hours of sleep -- be it in the morning or after one of my extravagant power naps; haggard vocals, HAGGARD appearance, delayed motor skills, prolonged state of confusion. Enough to make me giggle, enough to earn you one million views on a youtube post.
Or the morning after a slumber party in my living room, by myself, with every light in the house on. In attempt to ensure a more easily accessible escape route from the poltergeists, serial killers, daemons, and Asian curses that very well could have been lurking in my townhouse…I spent a number of sleepless nights on my couch, watching various Disney movies and Hey Arnold reruns. Come daylight, when I wasn’t scared of suffering a malicious, bloodcurdling, perverse encounter of pure evil, I was laughing. Laughing until I remembered the 16 hour day I had ahead of me, thus the “extravagant power naps.”
Substituting paper towels for toilet paper. You only make that mistake once.
Or the time, after an eventful “Stache-Bash,” I failed to acknowledge/dispose of the fake mustache I had occupied for the evening. In a mad dash (Stache-Bash-Dash) to a convenient store bathroom (shout out to my unreasonable, slightly impatient bladder), I take a second to sincerely glare back at the people scrutinizing me. Thought process: “It’s not THAT unusual to use the bathroom at midnight. You work at 7-11, surely this isn’t the first time you’ve…oh, my mustache. Great.”
Or the precious moments I spent reading the sympathetic hate note left on my windshield, “This is not a _ _ _ _ _ _ _ parking place, be a little more considerate.” What? No signature? I was shocked. FOR WHAT it’s worth, I only meant to park there for a second. Unfortunately I fell victim to one of those power naps, involuntarily. Sorry neighbor whom I have offended.
For whatever reason needing a plunger…and not having one. Charging a 2 dollar plunger to my Discover card, out of desperation.
Realizing my sweatpants were on backwards after a good 24 hours of use and plenty-o-interactions with my roommate and her boyfriend. Funny how there’s a tie in the front, and a tag in the back -- much too subtle of an indication.
Homemade yoga, a work in progress.
Homemade breakfast taquitos, a work in progress.
Homemade synthetic plasma, a work in progress.
Walking in on insect intercourse. There were mating flies in my laundry room. I felt embarrassed, perverted, and uncomfortably fascinated. I have since then noticed every single fly in our living quarters -- like a proud Aunt, or Godmother.
Or the time, oh wait, the three different times I invested in canned foods -- considering my purchases to be both economical and nutritious -- only to remember our kitchen is, and always has been lacking a can opener. I'd eat really great, if I had a swiss army knife.
Or last night when I dramatically fell up the stairs...twice.
Or this morning when I made oatmeal to the sweet sounds of my personal rendition of Def Leppard's 'Love Bites.'
I testify of a whole new understanding of "lol"-ing. Laughing out loud really does happen, a lost art of sorts but it can happen. It's happened to me, and it can happen to you.