Thursday, February 4, 2010

Tomorrow's Schedule

I will wake up to the sound of your alarm. You will go to class, but I will fall back asleep. My body with sense the need for consciousness and will pull me out of a deep slumber, throw me into rain-resistant clothes and force my legs to walk to class. We will sit next to each other and attempt not to laugh at our professor's misuse of religious terminology, ie: the text was translated into arabic, jewish, and latin.

As I scribble notes in varying types of cursive, I will die of boredom. When class ends, you will remove my body from the room and quietly drag it behind a building where no one goes. You will just cover my body with a sheet for now, you have other things to do.

Next, you will go see my mentee. I haven't seen her since last semester so it's really important that you do this. You will get lost because I wrote down the wrong directions to her new school, but don't worry, you will find your way. You will feel uncomfortable sitting in an elementary school cafeteria. The children will be eating meat patties soaked in meat sauce, drinking chocolate milk, and telling you about how their dad got the Jonas brothers' autographs.

After mentoring, you will do nothing. You have until 3:30 to lay in bed and just think. Or don't think at all, it's your choice. At 3:20, you will start walking to class. Make sure you have read The Iliad and understand it fully. Brother George will ask your opinion on the feud between Agamemnon and Achilles. You sympathize with Agamemnon.

Class ends at 4:45. You will return to the place you left my body. Hold a candlelight vigil over my body. Sing songs about mariner's and your ex-lover and when you feel the air around my body has absorbed enough harmony, you will use the candles to set my body on fire.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Throes

"Jen, you need to get yourself a man"

With a breakfast taco in my right hand and a kolache in my left, the promise of a high-cholesterol breakfast sent me bouncing through the cafeteria in elation. I was glad to share this moment of gastronomical bliss when I was stopped by a friendly wave from across the room. I thought about doing the wave-as-you-walk-away-and-smile, but I wanted to share the love. We exchanged how are you?'s and I inquired after his lady friend. After a brief chat, during which time I was made privy to all the woes and throes of love, I said goodbye and made my exit. My back was turned, my feet moving forward, my mouth salivating as the breakfast taco pulsed in my hand, and then I heard him call out after me.

"Jen,yourselfgetman"

Pause. Turn. Give semi-hateful look.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I said, you need to get yourself a man."

"Oh."

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

A Note to Adam

To prove my love, I would drink a gallon of fixer
The taste would make me cringe, a feeling I knew when I was not with you

To prove my love, I would expose a roll of perfect film
A crime comparable to murder, something I committed that one time you didn't call me back

To prove my love, I would smash a vintage Leica camera to pieces
The same thing you did to my heart when you cancelled dinner the other night

Just take my picture
Develop our love
Expose your heart
Don't leave me in the darkroom


these words were inspired by my dearest Collin Phillips

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Cheeks

my dreams are made of fear and hope. on nights when you can play connect-the-dots with the stars, hope puts on a play while i sleep. but, i guess hope gets tired after a while and so do the stars. fear takes his turn and the sky isn't so bright.

it's foggy out there, i'll be sleeping with fear tonight.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

20

I am.

This birthday makes me want to wear high heels. It makes me want to buy a suitcase that doesn't have hello kitty on it and put on mascara. Watching Mad Men, in combination with this birthday, makes me want to smoke a cigarette at a party and seduce Don from across the room as thick smoke is released from my perfectly pouted red lips.

But, when I fall asleep and dream a strange late-night-snack-induced dream about pizza, eighteen-wheelers and baby seals, my mind will be wiped clean. I will wake up having forgotten that I am a year older. I will go on wearing ballet flats and no make-up and bumbling around proudly sporting cartoon themed luggage.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Dear Margo,

Boys are turned off by girls who cannot control their eyelids.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Dear Ben,

I just want you to be depressed again. Your success and happiness are bringing me down.

Stalkers