The Chronicles Of Jessica

Well, the great complaint experiment of 2007 has drawn to a close. I actually found out quite a few things about myself in the process. For one thing, I discovered I'm not really that negative of a person. There are actually only a few things I'm inclined to complain about, and those things tend to be the inevitable facts of life that I cannot change, like work (temping), lack of work (acting), my butt (genes...and jeans), and money (we don't have any. What's up with that?!)

But this month, obviously, brought some serious challenges to optimism. Here is a sampling of the kinds of sentiments being generated. Yes, I'm copping out on having to write my own stuff right now, what about it?!! It's not like you're paying for this stuff.

"...i'm a hokie. class of '92. i'm so blessed to have such an outpouring of love even over here. the guys in the cast are amazing... i was able to talk to my dad on the phone with the incredible technology we have today... and even my cab driver mentioned tech when he heard my american accent. "i'm so sorry for what happened..."a tragedy is capable of pulling together people from all over the world, and reminding us of how human and alike we all are." Wendy, in Bulgaria

"...There are tragedies that yank you back to reality and make you realize that 99.9% of the stuff we p & m about is just plain NOTHING in the great scheme of things. I have a friend who gave me the following "mantra" to repeat to myself in the morning and whenever else I need it....: "May I be filled with loving kindness. May I be well. May I be peaceful and at ease. May I be happy!" You also can substitute anyone's name for "I" and it serves very nicely as a prayer for others." Patti P., Saco, ME

"...We also had the beloved young wife of a faculty member die Wednesday night after a long fight with cancer. We've made this agreement... to not complain for a while. I don't think we are complaining here.... I think we are mystified by these events and struggle with the why's and wherefore's. And perhaps we hold one another a little more closely.... perhaps we cut each other a little more slack... perhaps we evaluate, finally evaluate, what it is we are teaching our young people. When did violence become the answer? I spoke with another former student yesterday (she's a freshman at Longwood) and she had the list of questions for her generation: Why Columbine? Why Iraq? Why Virginia Tech? Why the Amish Schoolhouse? Good questions, Ginny. What is it that we have taught you or have failed to teach you? What is it that you think you've learned from us? What can we do to do this better? This, this Columbine, Iraq, Lancaster, Blacksburg... this can't be what we meant. Why is it that this is what you know? Ginny and I had a long conversation about it all. For me, since I work with young people, perhaps this is where I start. Maybe I can ask, is this really what you think we mean to teach you? How can we do this better? And after some interesting dialog, I can go home, hold my husband closer, play with my dog a little longer, call my parents, and think long and hard about what it is that will come out of my mouth and how my actions will be interpreted by the young people who see me." Kristen, Staunton, VA

"... My positive attitude has been sorely tested this week with the Nor'Easter which knocked out our power for 24 hours - no running water either. The good news is we have 6 bathrooms, so you can go often without having to flush....I also think I lost a couple of pounds because cold food just isn't as appetizing...." My Ma, Powhatan VA

"...Why are you so mad? I'm afraid of you!" Paul, Washington DC

"...Seriously, you are scaring me. Have you been drinking?" Paul, Washington DC

"....Honey? Dinner is ready...did you want to stop sobbing, or...?" Paul, Washington DC

This entry will be random and nothing will have anything to do with anything. Consider yourself warned.

I'm sick of shaving.

This morning I was on my way to the gym (yes, before work, please praise me liberally) and I saw a dude unwrap...something - and then just throw the wrapper on the ground in front of him. When there was a garbage can three feet away. I see this all the time - and I can't explain it but it fills me with a white-hot burning rage. It really makes me want to stab them in the neck with a pencil. But I'm always afraid to say something in case the person might be unstable. If anyone has any ideas as to how I can express myself in this situation about what a complete douchebag the person is being without, like, getting shot, then please advise.

We went to register for wedding gifts recently, which was simultaneously exciting and very stressful. It's like because I'm getting married I'm supposed to just instinctively know what kind of silverware I want to use for the rest of my life.They give you this little scanner thing so you just scan the barcode to put things on the registry, and Paul keeps trying to take the scanner across the street to the Apple store to see if he can scan us some new iPods, and I have to keep dragging him back. Also we're registering for a lot of new stuff for our kitchen and I'm already stressing about where I'm going to put everything. I know this is a nice problem to have. Unfortunately you can't really register for some of the stuff you really need, like dental insurance. Or pore strips.

Or wine.

Guess what, guess what? Our friends Liz and Mark had a week of their timeshare that they couldn't use so they're giving it to us as a wedding gift. We're going to Mexico! No fooling! Of course we'll have to take 12 bottles of sunscreen and have weekly screenings with a dermatologist for six months following but who cares?!!

I love that you can kind of tell that Queen Elizabeth thinks Bush is kind of a dipshit.

Justin did some much-needed site updates for me and I really appreciate it and if you should check him out and use him if you need something designed. Also give him a shout out because he's trying to quit smoking and that is hard.

I have to say I'm starting to feel a little sorry for the smokers. Smoker pretty much equals leper, these days, and that's not exactly fair. I mean I don't want to have to breathe in someone's second-hand smoke or whatever, but give them a break. The other day I was in Delaware to see Gotch and Fallon in Henry V (they rocked, I have such talented and attractive friends) and this woman passed by the stage door afterward and they were smoking and she told them they were very good in the show but idiots for smoking. Which is a fair point. But it's not like they don't know it's stupid to smoke. It's not like you tell that to a smoker and they're going to do a double take, like - "What, wait a minute....what are you saying? This is bad for me? Holy shit, is that true? Why don't I know about this? Does everyone know? My god, I've been doing damage to my lungs??!??! (stubs out cigarette) Thank you! Thank you, ma'am, for finally having the courage to tell me what others would not!"

Though it might be funny if they did. If you're a smoker and you want that bit, you can have it. Gratis.

Anyway, if I were a smoker I think I would be starting to feel a little defensive. Where can you really go? Maybe in like Amsterdam you would still be allowed to smoke in public but in the US and A, you pretty much have the parking lot as your only designated smoking area. I feel kind of bad for them. It's too bad there's not a powerful special interest lobby looking out for smokers and making sure they still have affordable access to tobacco products.

Wait - Paul says there is. And he's in grad school for this stuff (AND got an A on his term paper - YAY!) so he would know.

Like how I worked that in there? Yeah, I'm clevs.

Recently I attended a "Buy One Get One Half Off" sale at Payless Shoe Source, a BOGO, according to Julie. Spring was in the air, and I decided that I was in need of some new shoes, and what with the poverty and all, decided to go to Payless instead of patronizing the Macy's shoe department, which is right downstairs.

Truthfully, I haven't ever been all that into shoes. I have some friends, like Keegan and Kristen Barner and Fallon, who know from shoes, and pick out really nice shoes, and enjoy spending money on shoes and like that. Though I have briefly ventured to their world, I never became a permanent resident. I could never really see the wisdom in spending a lot of money on something that is eventually going to get poop on it. I mean, eventually you're stepping in poop; if you're lucky, if you're in NYC it could be something way worse, like a CSI-level something - but I digress. The other thing is that most of the really cute and cool shoes tend to murder your feet when you have to do any amount of walking, and I just can't get down with that. If my feet ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. I once actually walked home from a New Year's eve party in Chicago with Sean Leonard in the snow in just my pantyhose (well, and my coat and dress but I had taken my heels off) because my shoes hurt my feet so damn bad that I was willing to risk frostbite to not have them on anymore.

God, I'm so hardcore.

Anyhootle. I went to Payless and I got two pairs of sandals for like $24, which is about right as far as what I consider to be a reasonable shoe expenditure. One pair of them were fine, I've worn them a few times and while I don't feel I could play lady basketball in them like in those old Easy Spirit commercials, they're perfectly serviceable. The other pair is evil. You know those packets of silica gel in the shoe boxes, the ones we're not supposed to eat? These shoes must have been packaged with Satan gel by mistake, because I wore them to walk down to this audition yesterday and by the time I got back, I had sprained just about every tendon in the tops of both my feet and I had a raw spot on my right one the size of a dime. Do you understand what I'm saying? A bargain has rendered me a cripple. I feel like staging a protest in front of that store and burning the shoes in effigy, except they probably wouldn't burn, they'd just singe a little and then stare smugly at me and maybe jump up and swat me in the nips a couple of times just to cause me more pain.

The worst part is, you know I'm going to hang on to these shoes just because I paid for them and can't take them back, and you know I'm going to put them in my closet and forget what they put me through, and end up wearing them again and having the exact same thing happen. This is what human beings do. We tend to forget the pain and only remember the good stuff. That's why the McRib keeps coming back, because people have blocked out the gastrointestinal distress and subsequent ass pain that it caused them and they only remember how much fun it was to say "McRib" and how pleasant it was to eat ribs in the middle of the day without having to pick out any of those pesky bones. Wasn't that a lark? We love the McRib!

People, we are never going to progress as a society until we can learn from our mistakes. Seriously - If we don't demand real food and quality footwear, the terrorists have already won.

I brought a slice of mozzarella to work with me today, to go on the veggie burger I was going to have for lunch, and I didn't realize there was a piece of wax paper stuck to it until I had eaten almost the whole thing. Can that be bad for me?

Probably it's just extra fiber.

I was late for work the other day because I started watching "Dirty Dancing" on Encore while I was eating breakfast and I wanted to see the part where he gets Baby out of the corner. Apparently it's the 20th anniversary of the movie, which is almost impossible for me to believe, because I remember when I saw it like it was yesterday. I was (apparently) eleven, and I was visiting my father and I think the Superbowl was on or something like that, so I got him to drop me off at the mall so I could go to the movies, and that was what I saw. It must have been at least PG, so I'm not sure why they let me in without a parent, but I always looked older than I was when I was a kid. People used to come up to me in stores and ask me for help when I was way too young to even have a job. I just had this mature look about me, I suppose, which is ironic because now my appearance is so youthful and girlish. Everything is reversed.

Anyway, at eleven, this movie was the epitome of romance to me. My mind was blown. This is what love between adults looked like - dirty dancing. Now that I look at it, of course, it's like a bunch of sweaty teenagers grinding on each other and it's not as appetizing to me. Once you become an adult you have to kind of take the long view of these things; I mean what's so great about winding up with Patrick Swayze, he's a dirty dancer for god's sake. That's a career? Do you get dental with a position doing dirty dancing? Probably he only did that in summer, anyway. What did he do the rest of the year, just hang out or something? And is he still going to be grinding on other women after they get married? That's not the kind of thing you want to put up with. I'm just saying.

But speaking of employment! Guess what? You'll never guess, I'll just tell you. I just got cast in a world premiere at Woolly Mammoth here in Washington that goes up this fall! It's called "Current Nobody" and it starts rehearsing October 2nd. I am thrilled - I just wish it started this week, I could stop sitting here in TempLand eating wax paper and watching the clock.

We had a great trip up to Maine, except that we got stuck at JFK for 9 hours on the way there and it rained the whole time. I guess that doesn't sound that great, but you know. We don't sweat the small stuff. My aunts threw me a beautiful wedding shower and so many people came, it was really incredible. I just wish I had had more to eat. I'm serious, the food was phenomenal but I was so afraid of spilling something on my dress or having someone snap a photo of me with french toast hanging out of my cakehole that I barely ate anything, which is regrettable. We did chow down at the tasting for the reception, though, which was great; we got to try all the different things they serve and pick what we want people to have a choice of for dinner. After Paul got over his initial disappointment that nothing was in nugget form, we decided on a rosemary pork tenderloin and a chicken cordon bleu. I think I'm probably going to run into the same problem going hungry, though, because you know if there's any girl who's bound to wind up with cordon bleu sauce gracing the lap of her wedding gown, that girl's gonna be me.