Hi, I'm Jennifer and I'm a recovering text-aholic.
Like most addicts, it started out innocently enough. I didn't mean to become addicted. It was simply another form of communication. I had a cell phone at the age of 14 and began texting at 16 with everything getting billed to my parent's.
Texting was fun and a good way to contact people at a loud concert when I couldn't find them or tell them where I was when we were meeting up. Sometimes I used it just to say hi to a friend and tell them something funny I saw. And at only $.10 a text, who could blame me?
Unlike some texters, it took me almost a year or two to fully become addicted. I started using texting instead of making phone calls. It was faster and avoided that hassle of having to hear someone's voice. A quick move of the thumbs and I could use my powers for good: "Skipping class. Getting coffee. Wanna join?" Or for evil: "Can't meet you today. Feeling sick." Which wasn't always the case; sometimes I just didn't feel like seeing them.
Of course, texting is a quiet addiction and people can't always see the signs. A quick turn of the back and no one knows you're quickly texting your crush, "I miss your face like a fat kid misses cake. Lets make out behind the bleachers tonight." So it wasn't until my parents got an outrageous phone bill one month that they finally intervened.
"Jennifer, why is our bill $30 more this month?" They asked as they cornered me at the kitchen table.
"Gee, I dunno. Maybe it was a mistake?"
"Now you listen young lady. You stop texting or else!"
But as everyone knows, it's never that easy to quit your addiction. As soon as someone texts you and you text back, "Call me. I have to stop texting so much." They text back, "Wait. Why?" And you text, "My dumb parents." And they text, "OMG they are like hovering helicopters. Tell them you're an adult now." And you text, "I know. But they're just trying to save some money." And before you know it, you've already gone beyond your free 200 texts for the month.
Then the call from Verizon came which I really wish no one would have been home to answer. Imagine my surprise when I come home from school and my mother goes, "So, Verizon called today telling me I'd be smart to switch our plan from 200 texts a month, to 500 because of your increasing texting habits."
I nodded my head and quietly slid into my room to avoid any further talking. I'd rather text.
I went through rehab several times. Yes, *hunches over guiltily* this is not my first TA (Texters Anonymous) meeting. I've tried so many times to cut back, but once you start, you can't stop.
Finally, one day my Dad just took it away. He said it was allowing situations in my life that weren't healthy. For one thing, I texted while driving. For another, I was starting to revert back to Homeschool-Syndrome (losing my social skills) because I would text and zone out during conversations taking place. Worst yet, I could quietly be sitting at dinner with the family, while underneath the table, texting away a plan to escape from home that night without them ever noticing. Texting had gone from a simple fun act, to something terrible and ugly.
So to save my life as well as $10 a month, Dad disabled my texting.
Believe me, the withdrawal symptoms are ugly. My thumbs would cramp up, yearning for something to do. I'd want to tell someone something funny that was only worth a text, not a phone call, and I couldn't. People I never liked calling, I actually had to call. And get this: I actually pay attention while driving. *gasp*
But I have to admit that life without texting has really changed things for the better. I can pay full attention to whatever is going on around me. I have learned how to have short phone conversations. In fact, I appreciate calls of a quick, "Just saying hi" which replaces the texting. And now I find people who do text in front of my slightly rude, but I'd never say that to their face.
Don't get me wrong, the cravings still come. Usually when I least expect it I'll find myself reaching for the cell in my pocket just to realize there's no way to send that text out. However, I find comfort in knowing I'm not alone. There are the 20th century folks who don't know how to text. And the few friends of mine (I can think of two) who still don't text. So I hang out with those people to feel better and resist the temptation to not go back.
Well, I won't go back, at least, until I get my own phone plan...

I miss it. But I don't. I never really had it. I hate it, yet I'm curious.
College life.
Don't tell anyone, but I was on campus this evening with a bunch of kids whose sole purpose was to get completely wasted. I even went on a beer run. I had one sip of champagne because I only like the fancy drinks. Fancy drinks I can't even spell without the help of my handy dandy spell checker.
I tried it once. The college thing. When I was in college. I never drank in college. I just did the boy thing. You know. Flirt flirt flirt. Stupid. Nuzzle nuzzle. Kiss kiss. All absurd.
Here's a question. Do all houses in the UD ghetto smell the same? What is that? Alcohol in the carpet? Gross. So gross. You'd THINK some houses would smell different. But no. I go in one and all the memories from those incidents in the basement come back.
I can't even sleep at night because all these memories come back and I remember why I acted why I did. I wanted to fit in. Since WHEN have I cared? I don't. Yet there's this power that comes over you. It's like, "THIS IS WHAT WE DO." The voice says. "DO THE SAME OR BE  A LOSER."
But seriously. Why would I want to get wasted every weekend of my life? You should have seen how ridiculous these college peoples were. Before the party really started, they all just stood there awkwardly. Okay, fine. I understand. I've had awkward moments at the beginning of a party before. I won't judge. So then we go out to eat and I try to enjoy my free food, but noooo. There's a guy sitting next to me (not my date, he was awesome, this other guy) and he's already slightly intoxicated, ordering an alcoholic drink at the meal and then encouraging all of us to leave BEFORE dessert just to get the drinking party started afterwards. Ridiculous. Just unacceptable. So I miss out on my free dessert. What the heck? What are these people? So we get back to the place and we're all dressed up nicely, listening to shitty music and standing around with our red cups thinking we're so cool with our alcohol and talking about absolute shit. I can't stand it. I can't. I don't understand how these kids think they are cool. They aren't. And YET I am feeling lame for not joining them! How does this even make sense? I should have been yelling at them! I should have made a scene. I should have done SOMETHING but instead I mixed right in.  Well, not right in. I mean, I didn't look like a slut. my dress didn't make boys see up my crotch. No. Mine actually covered some leg. But still. I tried. I had my red cup. I laughed for a bit. Yes, I left very early with my date and ate ice cream and watched a movie instead. So I don't regret going. But I can't believe how upset just a few minutes could make me. I mean, I HELPED those idiots get beer. I didn't want to. I didn't want to go with them but I didn't want to be alone in that house with all those strangers. So I went in the car with my date, who didn't want to go either but he was the only legal aged guy around. Okay. That right there is a problem. I don't even want to think about how much underage drinking was going on in that house. 

Ah, but that is college. Embrace it. Best years of your life. All goes downhill from there, right? WRONG. If that's life....living in an alcoholic haze, shoot me now.

Done.

As you now know, I'm dead. Gone. My soul has been taken to heaven and you will no longer be hearing from me. However, I knew this day would be coming. Xanga told me so. So here's the deal. Don't read my journals, no matter how much you want to. They are not nearly as funny or nice as my blogs. In fact, they're harsh and could probably create material for a Mean Girls sequel.
Please make sure my funeral is quick, upbeat and involves funny stories. And include fireworks at the end.
I want all my books to be donated to the used book store in Yellow Springs because that bookstore is awesome and I think my books will feel at home there.
Go ahead and donate all my clothes to goodwill or something. Except the shoes. They smell and no one wants to buy those things.
The money in my savings/checking can go to a charity. Preferably one helping prevent whatever caused me to die. If that means "Cause to prevent deathly snake bites" or "Cause for making stairwells less deathly" then so be it.
Tell Victor to keep going with our children books. But he must include me as an author still and he must deal with promoting the books for me. I wanna be famous. Alive or posthumously.
Tell Thai 9 that I still have their spoon and they can have it back if they like.
Phillip, you can now have my bedroom as a music room.
Mom, Dad, I apologize for the mess of a room I left you. Don't worry about keeping so much of the junk. I'm a pack rat, it's true. Just keep the bamboo plant, the cactus, my pictures and newspaper clippings (you never know when having some of my published work saved could come in handy.)
Addy, I'm really sorry we never met in person, but you are still the best online friend a girl could ever ask for!
The only school allowed to promote that I am an alumni/past student of theirs is Sinclair Community College. I want no association with Dominion Academy or University of Dayton.
Boys who considered asking me out/dating me/proposing to me and chickened out: Shame on you. I died single and lonely thanks to you. Great job. Not bitter at all.

Yeah. I think that about covers it.
   

I just answered this Featured Question; you can answer it too!

I am not a breakfast person. And I find it funny if someone asks me if I am a breakfast person. I don't know what this means. If I am not a breakfast person does that make me a lunch or dinner person? Or what about dessert person? YES. I am a dessert person.

Anyways, the reason I bring up breakfast is because in high school and college I hardly ever ate breakfast. I mainly drank a glass of orange juice and went on my merry way. Then I graduated and had all the free time in the world (well, for two weeks at least) and ate my bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats faithfully. Now I'm in a job where I can take my time getting ready in the morning. I'm also more aware of the foods I eat and am trying to be healthier, so of course I will eat the most important meal of the day (Which, apparently, unbeknownst to me is not lunch break, but instead breakfast.)  However, after three solid weeks of eating breakfast every morning, I broke the ritual this past Sunday.  Here's the kicker. I had church at 11:30 a.m. Yet somehow, due to sleep and taking my good 'ol time getting ready, I did not have time to eat. How does this happen? But I did find that after eating breakfast so many days in a row, that I missed my morning meal. This is shocking evidence that could contribute to proving breakfast very well may be the most important meal of the day. The lack of breakfast made me chow down at lunch. That lunch brings me to my second topic of this blog...blind dates.

At lunch on Sunday, where I pigged out after missing out on breakfast, I was at a restaurant at The Greene. I was sitting outside and noticed a couple behind me. I first thought they were conducting a business interview. It sounded like an interview at least. "Where did you go to college?" "What is your degree in?" "How close are you to your family?" Yeah, the last question was the kicker to make me rethink my first assumption. Eventually I heard the girl say how much she was dreading the blind date. "But here we are!" The guy said. Bingo. Now it was time to do severe eavesdropping. You know the kind. Where you don't even pay attention to the conversations at your own table and chew your food in silence. I immediately became aware of the nervous chuckle when she returned the question about closeness to family and the guy was like, "We get together pretty often. You know. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Birthdays." No duh. So like, twice a year I'm guessing? Real close, buddy. This was not a good thing after the girl just finished saying, "Oh, my sister? We talk, like, every day." Then they brought up movies. She loves chick flicks. He loves horror films. She hates horror films. He's never even seen When Harry Met Sally. Then came college. "I wasn't really a partier in college," she says. "Oh, yeah... *pause* me neither."  Riiiiight. Then came "Yeah, I just read that in a book," she says. "Oh, I'm not much of a reader," he replies. "Oh, me neither, really. I'm just in this book club that meets once a month and ..." Yeah. Needless to say, after listening to that conversation, if any of you ever try to set me up on a blind date...no matter how old...I REFUSE.

Unless he likes my dessert person idea.... And is ridiculously charming and good looking.... And has read every published article I've ever written... Then maybe. Maybe.

I used to believe you could not be happy single. Honestly.
If you ever asked me before today whether I believed that, I'd blow you off and say, "What? Of course you can be happy single!" But I'd be lying to you and myself.
Because while I'd say that, deep in my heart I'd truly believe that I wouldn't really feel complete...happy...until I had that one guy to marry.
When I was in kindergarten I had already figured out who I would be marrying and that the marriage would take place when I 16. When I was 16, I had figured out which guy would be my high school sweetheart and my possible husband-to-be. When I was in college I decided to focus on the "now" and forget the future so I thought temporary flings would be enough.
But now...I'm seeing things differently.
Every girl goes through her "crushes". And I guess you could say I've been "Crush-less" for a good three months. For me, that's a long time. But during this "crush-less" season I have to admit life has been more fulfilling, more exciting and more calm than ever before.
Maybe it's the combination of not being in school anymore. Maybe it's the new job. Maybe it's the lack of friends at home to eliminate the drama. I don't know.
All I know is that I was wrong.
You can be happy single. You can be complete.
So girls, we need to stop believing this lie that we're missing something when we don't have a guy there to flirt with us or kiss us or make us feel loved. It's not true. And I'm sorry I've been believing that lie for 20 years.

Ever have one of those days where you just don't feel that attractive? It's one of those days for me. I've finally fixed it, I think. I did my hair. Put on the makeup. Changed my outfit three times. I've been up for four hours and it only took me till now to feel satisfied. It's just one too many zits...one too many hairs out of place...one too many looks at my pale legs.  Everything but the pale thing I could fix.

I just read Catcher in the Rye for the first time.  My mom had always told me there were to many curse words in that book.  So at age 20 I'm just now getting a chance to read it. Yes, the curse words were frequent, but nothing compared to A Million Little Pieces. Sheesh. While reading J.D. Salinger's book I can definitely say I enjoyed the it, but I'm quite confused as to why so many high schools had it on their reading list.  Sure there's imagery and metaphors in it to discuss. Sure it's about a high school boy so many high schoolers can relate. But honestly, there are many books about young people with imagery in it that can be read. I don't know. The real point of all this is to tell you how scared I was that I was even THINKING about things like that. What an English major I am! I don't even teach and I'm criticizing people for teaching that book! Unbelievable.

I thought applying for jobs would be easy with nothing else to do.
Nope.
It's harder.
I just sit around and think, "This is what I should do...but that is not what I feel like doing..."
So I find something else to do.  Somehow a week has already flown by.  "A week of nothing" is what I called it.
I did a lot of shopping.
A lot of cleaning.
I spent time with my mom.
I spent time with some friends.
I'm playing catch up with the past two years of my life.
I think when I was at UD I put a lot on hold and gave a lot of excuses to not do things because I had "homework".
Well, no more excuses. Its time to get my life back in gear.

I want to scrapbook. And to decorate my room. I want to cut my hair really short.  I want to find a new pair of jeans.
Why do they call jeans a "pair"? A pair of shoes makes sense. A pair of earrings. But a pair of jeans? Just cuz I have two legs? Its still only one piece.
These are the things I think about.

I went to a friends house the other night. Her and my other friend had homework.
Homework.
I felt a little left out.  I wish I had something to do.
Pssh.  Okay. I didn't really care THAT much.  I just need to find something beneficial to do for others.  That's all.

Anyone know of good places to volunteer?

Thank goodness my internship starts in a week.

I really wanna update and write a lot...
but...
my last final of my undergraduate career is tomorrow.
AAAAHH!
I'm so happy.
I gotta sleep.
The first thing I'm gonna do after I take my final is get ice cream.  I don't care if it's 11 o'clock in the morning. Any time is ice cream time when I'm celebrating. :)