A Younger Me

I was cleaning out my old school binders when I came across this 'autobiography' my Economics teacher made us write him on our first day of class, four years ago. Its funny how some things change, and others dont.

What You Should Know About Me

           There are not very many things you should know about me, but there are lots of things you can know about me. First of all, I am 17. My real name is Jaclyn, but I usually go by Jackie. It doesn't make a difference to me which one you call me, as long as its one of the two. I don't think I would respond to anything else. I am female. Surprise surprise. I have a younger sister named Andria who I call Andy, and everyone else calls A.J. (Her middle name is Jean which is where the J comes from). I have, sadly, lived in Davis in the same one story, pink house my entire life. But things could be worse. I have almost everything I want, and everything else I don't is superfluous. My favorite subject is English (sorry :]) and its usually the one I'm best at. I applied to UC Davis and am hoping against all hope that that is where I wind up. If not, I will probably cry for a week and then go to Sac State. On the weekends I play soccer for two different teams, and during the week I don't really do much but goof off and procrastinate doing my homework. I did apply for a job at De Luna Jewlers and I have an interview in exactly 26 hours from right now. You should probably also know that I'm a spazz and I don't take very many things seriously, including school, which can drive a lot of my teachers nuts. I apologize up front if this happens to you, I'll try and behave as much as possible. Two of my best friends are in your third period class, and they're pretty much the same as me. I suppose it's a good thing were not all together...Other then that there really isn't much more to me that you won't be able to figure out by the end of the year. I hope reading this autobiography at least made you smile, or at least broke the monotony of reading 100 of these in a row. Cheers!


I wonder how many more of these little gems I'll uncover..

Literary Mashup

When Good People meet Hills Like White Elephants.

            They were up on a picnic table by the edge of the lake, with part of a downed tree in the shallows half hidden by the bank. It was springtime, and the park's grass was very green and the air suffused with honeysuckle and lilacs both, which was almost too much. The girl wore a thin old checked cotton shirt with pear colored snaps with the long sleeves down and always smelled very good and clean, like someone you could trust and care about even if you weren't in love. He did not ever include it - that word - for had he once said it, avowed that he did lover her, then it all would have been transformed. But he could not say he did: it was not true. He did not do this now. It would be cruel and indecent.
             One thing he did do was reassure her again that he'd go with her and be there with her. It was one of the few safe or decent things he could really say.
            "It's really an awfully simple operation. Its not really an operation at all."
He thought he knew how she must have felt as it got closer and closer and how she must be so scared. She'd only talked about it that once.
           "I'll go with you and I'll stay with you all the time. We'll be fine afterward. Just like we were before".
           She did not reply. He could not read her heart- she was blank and hidden. That he'd be thinking about her and feeling bad for her, she knew, but he couldn't be in there with her. The girl did not say anything. She knows he does not love her, not that way, has known it all this time.
          "If I do it you'll be happy and things will be like they were and you'll love me?" 
          "I'll love it. I'd do anything for you."
          "Once they take it away, you never get it back. Doesn't it mean anything to you?"
          "I don't care about me."
          He knew it was wrong, knew something was required of him that was not this, but he pretended to himself he did not know what it was that was required.
         This was on awful thing.
         The shallows lapped from different directions at the tree as if teething on it. He could look at her head, but not at her.  He pictured in his mind an image of himself on a train, waving mechanically to something that got smaller and smaller as the train pulled away.  A head peaking out from underneath a skirt.
        "We'll be fine afterwards. Just like we were before."
        This lie is not a sin. The worse he felt, the stiller he sat. He looked more like a picture than a man. Two hearted, a hypocrite to himself either way.

The Long Train Home

Kate Chopin's, The Story of an Hour, retold from Brentley's point of view.

            It had been a long day at the office and the monotonous rocking of the train was lulling Brentley to sleep. He feebly tried to stay awake, not wanting to miss his stop but it would not have mattered. He was on auto pilot after so many years and his arm went up on its own, pulling the greasy yellow cord before falling back down to lie limply atop his crumpled hat. He closed his eyes and sighed.

             Brentley pulled into his drive way, unaware of the road he had taken to get there. He didn’t even notice the unusual number of cars parked in his driveway. All he wanted was to sit back in his beloved arm chair, perfectly molded to his body after so long and gaze out the window. He would sit there for hours sometimes, oblivious to his wife’s dissatisfaction, always watching until the sun met the horizon. It was the closest he came to happiness in a life that had lost all purpose long ago.

              Brentley reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. He removed his hat as he opened the door, already prepared to place it on the hat rack just inside the door. His mind reeled as a loud scream pierced the air and something jumped to block his way. He was overwhelmed by a sense of wrongness, even before the images in front of him had time to register. He saw Richard, hands thrown out towards him as if to stop him, a look of horror painted on his face. His wife’s sister with arms gripped tight around his wife, mouth still open in a scream, tear streaks fresh on her face. His wife standing there, silently. Accusingly.

A moment of profound disappointment seemed to flash across her face before she hit the floor.

Mutual Weirdness

I sent my boyfriend an email today with an easy recipe for bbq shortribs. In response, he unwittingly sent me confirmation that we're totally meant to be together. His message was short and simple, yet so silly and sweet I don't think he could have done anything to make me love him more than at that moment. It includes a little bit of everything I love, including his charming sense of humor and personal quirks. I'll omit part of the message for personal reasons, but I dare you not to be cheered up by the rest of it.

The email:


 Here are some things that I think you need to enjoy.

-Your booty call (I better be on speed dial 1 ho!)

 































( warm fuzzy moment <3 )




























































 































I couldn't ask for a better boyfriend...