What We Call Ourselves (Part 1)

image by wonderferret

It's the first or second week of freshman year. My new friends and I are at a college-sponsored freshman mixer, complete with dancing. Magic fills the air. It could be from the twinkly white fairy lights strung around the stone patio. More likely it's from the cosmic longing for love that can only be generated by amassing a group of lonely and slightly scared 18-year-olds. It feels like anything could happen here under the dark night sky.

We've been meeting new people for days now. I'm tired of introducing myself, mostly because nobody remembers my name. "Hi, I'm Jenn," I've said several dozen times. And always, always, they -- the boys especially -- forget. They remember everyone else but me. Allyson? No problem. Melissa? Check. Erin? Gotcha. Sara? Howdy. ...And you are?

Fed up with feeling invisible, I decide that the problem must be my name. I'm not a wallflower. In fact, sometimes I cringe at my own outspoken nature. I know I'm not the hottest girl in the dorm, but I'm pretty sure I'm not hideously ugly. (If I were, maybe people would remember my name. As in: You know, Jenn, the lady troll.) I realize that I'm fairly normal looking; a bit plain, I suppose. This, coupled with my all-too-common name, makes me forgettable.

Being named Jennifer is a curse that links me to thousands upon thousands of American girls born between 1970 and 1984, which turned out to be the extended high season for baby Jennifers. (The name spent 14 years at the very top of the charts.) If only I had a more interesting name, I reason, maybe then the boys will remember me.

So on the night of the mixer, I make a spur of the moment decision. I figure I need a new "hook;" a new "handle," as it were. Something that keeps me close enough to my roots that I remember my new name, but something with just enough zing to make me stand out in the beige sea of Jens and Jennifers. (Incidentally, I go by Jenn with two n's, but nobody asks you to spell it in conversation.) The round-the-circle introductions get to me and I blurt out, "Hi, my name's Jenna."

And my friend immediately blurts back: "It is?!?"

I don't remember what I said next, but I never introduce myself as Jenna to anyone ever again.

Fourteen years later, there is only one boy who calls me Jenna. My husband didn't go to college with me, but he always knows who I am.

Comfort in the Unknown

image by doeth

"I'm excited and nervous about it," I said.

"Why?" James asked.

"Because it's outside of my normal milieu. Outside of my comfort zone."

There's a pause. I know what my husband is about to say next, and I know he's right.

"Yeah, but doing things outside of your comfort zone is part of who you are."

"That doesn't mean they're not still uncomfortable."

It's true. I do push myself to do things outside of my comfort zone, not because I'm an adrenaline junkie with something to prove, but because so often what I want is beyond the boundaries of what I know. I do these things because I know I'd regret not doing them:

• Auditioning for college and community theatre
• Living in a foreign country for a year
• Going out to eat or to a movie by myself
• Signing up for a five-day art seminar retreat
• Putting my private thoughts out there for the world to read
• Planting a garden
• Going to conferences filled with other bloggers and writers
  
• Signing up for a summer watercolor class
• Learning to drive a stick shift
• Mastering the insidious worlds of mortgage lending and credit scores
• Taking a roadtrip by myself
• Calling the mayor's office to ask for an interview
• Going door-to-door to campaign for my candidate of choice
• Starting a business
• Trying scallops
• Admitting that I've struggled with depression
  
• Getting my first pet
• Volunteering to be a Big Sister
• Wearing pantyhose and high heels

I read this list and none of it seems very radical. Nothing on the list is shocking or so far outside of the norm that it would make news. But how many of our daily fears and triumphs do?

I picture my comfort and discomfort zones as slightly intersecting circles with just the tiniest bit overlapping in a shade of grey. But beyond that are more circles. Your circles. And they all intersect. What I fear, you may not think about twice. What I do with ease may send you spiraling into a panic.

What if we could let go of the fear, acknowledge the discomfort and just move on, knowing that our circles' boundaries will change; believing that others will be there to welcome us into their zones?

What if "Feel the fear and do it anyway" was more than a saying that has become trite from extended usage in certain circles? What if it's the only way to live?

I'd love to hear what your comfort zone includes and excludes. I imagine building this giant network of comfort and support, so that no matter what we have to do, we know someone who can tell us all about it and welcome us into our own unknown.

Thanksgiving Table Talk

Husband: I heard that Monday is National Toupee Forgiveness Day.

Me: How do you forgive a toupee?

__________________________________________

Mom: So your brother finally told me that he got another tattoo. Did you know about this?

Me: Wow this stuffing is good! Can I have some more?

____________________________________________

9-year-old to adult, while asking the adult quiz-game questions:

These quiz questions are for 10- and 11-year-olds. How old are you

Oh my gosh! What is with Europe? [after a question about geography]

NaBloPoMo: Day 14

Oh my gosh. The writing. The writing. The writing. Every day with the writing. That's what I get for signing up for National Blog Posting Month and publicly declaring my intention to write a blog post every day. It's only Day 14 and I'm stumped, folks. I asked The Husband what I should write about today, and the conversation went something like this:

Me: What should I write about? What are some of the stories I always tell?

Hubs: Hm... How about the time you dressed your brother up like Baby New Year?

Me: That's a good one.* Maybe I'll save it for New Year's.

Hubs: Or how you used to put makeup on him.

Me: I didn't do that. He just says I did. ...at least, I don't think I did.... I think he wanted to try some on.

Hubs: That goes a long way in explaining a lot of things.

Me: Didn't you ever want to try on makeup as a kid?

Hubs: No. Although, my mom did have this face cream that formed a mask and you could peel it off in one piece. I used to put it on my face so I could pretend I was one of those aliens on that TV show "V" and then peel my face off.

I didn't say it to him, but that goes a long way in explaining a lot of things, too.

*There's even a picture!

Out of the Mouths of Babes (and Moms)

It's said that kids say the darndest things. Apparently, so do their parents. Check these out for a good laugh .

• Rachelle at Magpie Girl reports on some good parent one-liners. There's a good one in the comments, too: “Nobody leaves this house without pants!”

• Even funnier is what a very tired preschooler says over at Dooce. I can't say much more because it would ruin it, but trust me. It is funny. You will laugh.

• Also in the running for funniest parent/child one-liners are these two from Kristen from Mommy Needs a Cocktail on her Twitter updates:

• The Boy is screaming "Darn it in the ass." I'm not exactly sure about that combination. Clearly whatever it was, he learned from his dad. (3:35pm November 01, 2007)

• You never realize before you have kids that the words "stop putting stuff in the ukulele" could possibly come out of your mouth. (4:46pm October 29, 2007)
  

I know I've caught myself saying odd things to my cats, but none of them are coming to mind right now. Got any parent/kid/pet sayings that you want to share?

Bathroom Reading

James: I think I'm in love.

Me: You haven't seen Crate and Barrel before?

James: I've seen Crate and Barrel before, but never like this.

Me: ?

James: I'm on page 28 and I've found at least one thing on each page that I want!

How people without kids spend Halloween

We could have embraced our fading youth and dressed up all sexy and silly, hit any one of the local bars holding costume contests, and enjoyed ghoulish cocktails. Or we could have gone all domestic and made a nice corn chowder and some caramel apples. We even could have watched "The Great Pumpkin" while carving a few of our own. Instead, we spent Halloween acting like 78-year-olds. (And we didn't even need costumes!)

James started the afternoon with a trip to the doctor for an annual check-up, where he narrowly escaped a prostate exam after explaining to the nurse that he wasn't there for quite such a comprehensive physical. "Yeah," she said. "We don't usually do them on guys under 40."

I joined him at the hospital to keep him company while he waited to get blood work done. He was in and out in a few minutes, but then we waited for nearly an hour for someone to call him for another test, only to find out that the young, cleavage-showing Cleopatra (complete with headdress) hadn't ordered it.

By the time we were done at the hospital, James was starving, having just fasted for over 12 hours for the blood work. I told him we could go wherever he wanted to eat. We made our way to Bob Evans, where we were at the front-end of the Early Bird crowd. We fit right in with our beef tips and noodles, pot roast sandwich, and coleslaw.

Next we drove across the street to Rite Aid so James could drop off a prescription and I could get a brace for my wrist, which I'd somehow hurt while taking pillow cases off of pillows and then chasing after the cat. (I'm lucky it's just a sprain. Bones get brittle as we age.) While at the pharmacy, I decided to pick up some Preparation-H Medicated Wipes, since I'd noticed earlier in the day that we were running low.

James and I lurked around Rite Aid, waiting for his prescription to be filled. While perusing the wide array of dental floss currently on the market, I turned to him and said, "We've really had a geriatric Halloween."

"Maybe when we get home you can rub some BENGAY on me," he said.

Trick or treat, everybody. Trick or treat.

Whispering Sweet Nothings

James, also known as The Husband, has a habit of talking out loud just as he starts to fall asleep. A lot of the time this consists of grunts and mumbles and surprised "huh!" sounds. But just as often, I get snippets of narrative that make me wish I could see inside his mind.

He freaked me out the first time this happened, since he sounded wide awake when he said, "Look at that guy in the yellow coat!"

Here are two of his most recent gems:

They got these chairs on the boat of life, next to the birthing and deathing sections.... Do you want to let the hot air balloons off from there?

It's going to be tough as pie to eat all the jovial cookie treats!

There's wisdom and profundity in these, I'm sure of it.

It's a bird, it's a plane...

Overheard today in Jen and Eddie's UFO (Used Furniture Outlet):

"Engelbert Humperdinck -- it's not a what. It's a person! You've never heard of him?"

"No!"

"How about Mahalia Jackson? I've never heard of her."

Phone Fun with Dave

Phone conversations with my brother are usually hilarious, at least for the other person in the room listening to my end of the conversation. He invariably calls me when I'm hanging out with my friend Jess, and I can see the anticipation on her face when I say, "It's my brother." Because she knows that a bizarre encounter is about to take place. My husband gets the same kick out of these phone calls, which usually consist of me saying the same few phrases over and over: "What? Wait, what? What are you talking about? Um, okay."

Today I had the pleasure of listening to my mom's side of a phone call with her son. I'm not sure if it's funnier when you hear just her side of it or the whole thing. You decide:

Version 1
Mom: Hello. ...What?... No, it was a goat!!


Version 2:
Mom: Hello.

Bro: When you were a kid at Aunt Mid's, what chased you?

Mom: What?

Bro: Was it a turkey or a peacock?

Mom: No, it was a goat!!

He's got a million of 'em, folks

What I overheard in Times Square on Sunday:

Guy to two girls: Hey, watch out -- dog shit!

[Girls jump aside, but there is no shit.]

Guy: What are you doing tonight? I mean what are we doing tonight?

[Girls giggle and keep walking.]

Guy: Hey, do you like skinny white guys?

For more snippets of New York conversation, visit Overheard in New York.

Mom Better Get on the Ball

Heard through my open window as a little boy ran down my street:

"I'm sorry. My mom forgot to cook my dinner. She's gonna cook it a little longer."

How to Choose

Me: "The package gives us options. Do you want to make ultra-vibrant colored eggs; regular colored eggs; or pastel eggs?"

James: "What's the difference?"

Me: "You use vinegar for the bright eggs, lemon juice for the medium ones, and water for the pastels."

James: "Which do you want?"

Me: "I don't care. Do you have a preference?"

[pause]

James: "...I like the smell of vinegar."

Morning Pillow Talk

James: "I'm hungry. I've been hungry since I went to bed last night.... No, wait, that was two nights ago."

And for even funnier one-liners (or several-liners), visit Things My Boyfriend Says.

This Just In: My Husband is a Bastard

James: Local-TV-Anchorwoman was in the store again today with her three kids.

Me: Yeah? She's there a lot.

James: Her husband's phone wasn't working.

Me: Oh.

James: She called me a bastard.

Me: What?! She's Local-TV-Anchorwoman! She can't do that! What happened?

James: She asked me if we have kids. I told her that we're enjoying it just being the two of us right now.

Me: Okay....

James: And she said, "You bastard!"