being jennifer garrett
Every day an adventure in mediocrity
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Sunday, February 29    

I was dreaming when I wrote this
Last night, I dreamt that I was writing a poem -- well, actually, I was dreaming that I woke myself up to write down this amazing poem. The poem came to me in complete stanzas, and as I wrote them down, more came out. It was beautiful and lyrical and sweet. And sadly, it was just a dream. I can't remember any of the words now, or the ideas. It may have been about a woman, or love, or taking a walk. I have no memory of the words themselves, just the intensity and the flow and the ease of it all.

Perhaps I've been doing a little too much non-creative writing lately if the only time I have to write poetry is in my dreams.

  posted @ 9:50 AM |

Saturday, February 28    

The passion of the journalist
I spent most of my Friday evening on the phone (nothing beats a two-hour interview), and then I trooped home from work with the fruits of my labor (nothing beats a microcassette for screaming Serious Journalist) and a transcriber, so I could spend my Saturday evening listening to my interview again and attempting to put it all into neat quotable chunks. You know, not to be blasphemous or anything, but I think I'd rather pound nails through my hands. Who's with me?

  posted @ 7:55 PM |

Friday, February 27    

Playing favorites
J.R. asked what my favorite blog post was. Dude, it's over a year's worth of daily blogging. That's a lot of drivel to wade through to find one of quality. I'm going with this one or this one. Anyone else want to weigh in on the issue?

  posted @ 7:01 AM |


Satisfaction guaranteed
Getting my car fixed at my Saturn dealer always feels like a face-lift for my car. They hose it off and vacuum it out, and, as an added bonus, they fix whatever's wrong with it for only 1/2 of my annual salary. So driving my car home last night was a special treat requiring a little of the King to accompany me. My joy was compounded by the fact that they actually found something wrong with my car that was still covered by warranty. I thought they were required by a mechanic's oath to not find the problem until two days after the warranty expired. And to make the whole experience truly worthwhile, I ate at least three Saturn mints while I was waiting. I don't know where they get those mints from, but they are The Best Mints Ever.

  posted @ 6:38 AM |

Thursday, February 26    

You say it's your birthday?
Today is Leigh's birthday. Yay! Now, neither a lady nor a pony admits her true age, so we'll leave it at that.

And my friend is doing better, so I'm much happier. But, apparently my car is now leaking axle fluid (there's fluid in there?), so that makes me less happy. On the other hand, I did get to beat up the vending machine so Leigh could get her peanut M&Ms and that brought me joy. But, we're on deadline and I've got a lot to do, so that makes me less happy. On the other hand, my friend is doing better, so ...

  posted @ 10:31 AM |

Wednesday, February 25    

Auto focus
Everything seems kind of blurry today. Usually I'm rather proud of my ability to be calm, rational, stoic -- hard-hearted, even. I roll with the punches, as they say, and frequently, I hit back. Hard. But when something surprises me, troubles me, pains me, my typical reaction is no reaction at all. Hard to believe that anything can shut me up, but it's true. So when I most want to find the words to say something, anything, to try to convey even a fraction of what I'm feeling, I can't. A friend of mine is sick; he has known me longer and better than anyone. I could close my eyes anywhere in the world and I would know where he was without looking. But I am far away now and scared. And when he called, I didn't know what to say.

I didn't know what to say when it counted. I don't know what to say still.

  posted @ 11:35 AM |

Tuesday, February 24    

Mad cash
Last night, I received two checks in the mail, neither of them expected. One was a payout on a lawsuit against record industry price fixing (I had totally forgotten that I'd filled something out online 800 years ago), and the other was a credit card refund that I had let sit for too long.

What was really sweet about the CD settlement check ($13.86 of pure free money) was that it came just in time for my first CD purchase of the new year, Melissa Etheridge's latest, Lucky. (I haven't listened to the whole thing yet (my commute isn't that long), but I'm digging it so far. Plus, how could I not love the lyrics to Secret Agent? Oh, the cheesy joy.)

  posted @ 10:07 AM |

Monday, February 23    

Riddle me this, Batman
Why does slicing an apple make it taste better?

(And on a related note, why don't I own an apple wedger?)

No apples were harmed in the making of this blog post. And no red apples were eaten, either, because ... eww. It's Granny Smith or nothing, baby.

  posted @ 12:23 PM |


A pastiche, or how I learned to surf the internet and gather fan-boys at will
"I need to figure out a substrate I can put EZ cheese on...." Don't we all?

"Why isn't there a way to down load web pages such that graphics download efficiently based on the bandwidth?" Dude, that's what my slow-ass dial-up bitch wants to know.

"Sometimes it's better to be ignored, or just not heard." Exactly.

"Technically, there was a foul line, he said, and pointed to the nail that had been accidentally poured with the cement exactly fifteen feet from our pole, but fouls were for wimps and girls who needed extra points." I resent that. (Okay, not really, as I respect trash-talk in all its many forms. And I just want to talk about basketball some more.)

  posted @ 7:33 AM |

Sunday, February 22    

The end of an era
Goodbye, girls.

  posted @ 8:24 PM |

Saturday, February 21    

Big plans
Between working late last night, getting up early to go to work this morning, rushing from work to see my team get unmercifully flogged by they-who-shall-not-be-named, and going back to a work function this evening, I'm done. I've got two hours to grab lunch (finally) and take a nap before hitting the road again.

While I'm out, can someone go to the grocery store for me, do a load of laundry, and find me a social life? Thanks.

  posted @ 12:03 PM |

Friday, February 20    

Saving lives since 1999
I gave blood today, and I rocked it out. My nurse said it was one of the fastest he'd ever seen. That's right, boys, my blood flows fast and hot. And I'm not a delicate flower: I don't get dizzy, I don't get pale. I'm in, I'm out, and I'm on my way. It's important to donate if you can, and I try to do it as often as possible since it doesn't really bother me, for the most part -- the needles, the bag of blood they collect, what have you. What does bother me, however, is the damn finger prick to test your iron levels. I hate that. Open a vein! I don't care! Just don't stab my finger with a little itty-bitty steel thingy. It fucking hurts.

(On a side note, they didn't have any of the "Kiss me" stickers; all they had was "Be nice to me." Be nice to me? Screw that, I want play! I gave up a pint of blood, people!)

  posted @ 10:23 AM |

Thursday, February 19    

Business and pleasure
Last night, I had to attend Wellesley's annual Quintessence Day lecture, which this year featured Anna Deavere Smith. I say "had to attend," but I mean "had the distinct pleasure of attending." I knew Anna was cool and a fabulous actress -- c'mon, I watch the West Wing -- but I didn't know that she was a gifted playwright as well. The pieces she performed from Twilight: Los Angeles were simply stunning. If she is ever performing within a 200-mile radius of you, go see her.

(I'm super bossy this week, eh? I'm okay with that.)

  posted @ 12:30 PM |


Por favor
My friend is conducting a survey on attitudes toward same-sex marriage within the gay community. If you identify as LGBT, please take a minute and fill out her survey. It's completely anonymous, plus she's super cool and super smart. And I told you to. So there.

  posted @ 6:36 AM |


For the woman who has everything...
For some reason, these just appealed to me.

  posted @ 6:28 AM |

Wednesday, February 18    

Too much, too little, too late
Though I have seen the movie several times, I decided to watch The Fugitive last night anyway. Perhaps 24 isn't keeping me anxious enough? I don't know. What I do know is this: The movie still keeps me on the edge of my seat. How is that possible? Even though my inability to remember endings is well documented, I am able to recall that Harrison Ford is cleared in the end. (He is, after all, Harrison Ford.) Yet there I sat, literally on the edge of my couch, hoping for him to escape Tommy Lee Jones and get the one-armed man. People, I am way too invested in my movie-watching.

Which is why (nice long intro there, eh?) Whale Rider sat on my desk for almost a month. (You gotta love Netflix.) I knew it was a good movie. I knew I was going to love it. I also knew it would drag me through the emotional wringer, which, I can assure you, it did. For those of you living under a rock, the movie tells the story of a Maori girl determined to fulfill her destiny and be a leader of her people. Keisha Castle-Hughes was amazing. Subtle, nuanced, and 12. Goddamn. The rest of the cast was also quite good, especially the grandfather. Watch it yourself, or you'll regret it.

  posted @ 10:25 AM |

Tuesday, February 17    

I said I'd give my life for just one kiss
Some mornings, you really just have to listen to the power ballads. Of course, today was the first day that we had to park in the new Davis Garage, so I had to lower the volume while I was rockin' out to Skid Row so I could hear the police officer tell me where to park it. (Is 38 too high to have your volume? Who's done the definitive study on where hearing loss begins and rockin' out ends? Perhaps it's a bad sign that I can't hear my cell phone over my music. Perhaps not. And while we're parenthetical here, whatever happened to Skid Row?)

  posted @ 5:55 AM |

Monday, February 16    

Someone else's words for a change
I have written every poem, every novel, for the same purpose -- to find out what I think, to know where I stand. I am unable to become what I see. I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful halt, "won't go," or, even worse, explodes in some innocent person's face.

May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

  posted @ 2:15 PM |

Saturday, February 14    

And I quote
"You don't want a bitch ... or a ... Mr. Bitch." So sayeth Jen, and it was true.

Happy Valentine's Day, people.

  posted @ 2:26 PM |

Friday, February 13    


See? I always make good on my promises.

  posted @ 10:59 AM |

Thursday, February 12    

It's official: I've been published by Blogger. It's just like I work there! Except without all the money, glory, and trips to Tahoe. Dammit.

  posted @ 1:06 PM |


Sometimes, I realize just how lucky I am to have such a cool job. Today, I got to interview Shirlee Taylor Haizlip, who is an amazing and articulate woman. If you get the chance, read her latest book, Finding Grace: Two Sisters and the Search for Meaning Beyond the Color Line. And if you haven't already done so, read her first book, The Sweeter the Juice.

  posted @ 11:31 AM |


Surfin' Safari
I've already waxed poetic on the joys of Safari, but I just realized that there is a potential downside to all this tabbed browsing joy when employed in the work environment. Whilst peacefully eating lunch at my desk (look, it happens, okay?), I decided I'd do a little blog-hopping. Since I've got the mega-fast connection here at work, there's no wait and just millions of tabs to read, all waiting for me. I checked my usual suspects, but once I'd read all of them, I decided to read all those blogs I was supposed to read -- you know, the bloggerati.

I hit every one of the links on kottke's extensive list. This is dangerous, people. Do you know how many blogs I can read on my lunch break? This is almost as bad as subscribing to RSS feeds.

  posted @ 9:45 AM |

Wednesday, February 11    

A few helpful tips
1. If you want to feel really stupid and/or like a complete ninny, try interviewing a philosophy professor. She was so smart she made my head hurt.

2. The Pantone color wheel is pretty.

3. OSX rocks the known universe.

  posted @ 12:32 PM |

Tuesday, February 10    

The OSes, they are a changin'
I'm finally getting OSX on my work computer. Safari! iTunes! Dock-side fun! All this change, however, troubles me. I have a feeling I'm going to miss 9.2 and its hellish little quirks, its clunky little icons, the Apple menu -- not to mention all the custom-made desktop themes I've acquired over the years. All that but a dim memory by this time tomorrow.

I'm making with the mega back-up of all times, requiring several CDs and much burning. My entire four-year work history is on this computer. Flimsy little plastic disks do not seem capable of holding my life's work. But, sadly, they can, and do. Really got to throw some more enormous image files into my life's work to suck up more MB.

  posted @ 9:05 AM |

Monday, February 9    

I love the good times that you wreck
Why is it that angry, bitter music makes me so ... happy? Or at least it takes away my bad mood. Mondays, by definition, blow, and today was no different. So I whip myself up a sweet mix of every really fucking bitter and pissed off song that I can think of, listen to it on the car ride home, and voila! It's a whole new me.

Okay, still the same old me, just with slightly less growling.

Okay, actually, the same amount of growling, but I may smile again sometime this week.

  posted @ 3:15 PM |

Sunday, February 8    

The cost of things
Season tickets to BC women's basketball: $93
Trip to the doctor for heart check-up: $10 co-pay
Lucky basketball socks: $3.33
Beating Rutgers: Priceless.

  posted @ 8:39 PM |

Saturday, February 7    

Magnificent obsession
Okay, I promise, someday I will use my digital camera to do something other than take pictures of my socks, but I love these socks. I found them today at Sears, and I had to own them. Despite heated arguments in my head, consisting mostly of "You don't need any more socks, you fucking ninny," as well as "Jesus f-ing Christ, Jen Garrett, you are a total freak," I bought the socks. I shall wear them with pride to many a basketball game, including tomorrow's match-up against Rutgers. Hopefully, they will bring BC luck.

  posted @ 5:56 PM |

Friday, February 6    

Horizons narrow, shrinking by the minute
I listened to the Chemical Brothers in an attempt to try something new, and, like, learn and grow and stuff. It didn't work. I didn't like them.

Somebody try and teach me something else. Quick. I need to learn something today.

  posted @ 10:38 AM |


Like too much whiskey in my cup
There's nothing wrong with a little snow -- hell, it can be kind of pretty and sometimes leads to snow days, god's answer to doing all your homework on time and studying all night. But the snowflakes this morning were huge. No, seriously, people, I've never seen snowflakes this large before. I don't think "flakes" is an adequate term. I'm going to call them soft, squishy snow boulders, if you don't mind.

  posted @ 7:26 AM |

Thursday, February 5    

My heart keeps open house
I finished The Namesake the other night. I was happy just to finish a book, but finishing it left me strangely ... incomplete. The writing was crisp and sometimes moving, but it kept a careful distance. One of the only truly notable passages for me was a description of the mother, now that she'd come to a new stage in her life: "In her life, Ashima has lived in only five houses: her parents' flat in Calcutta, her in-laws house for one month, the house they rented in Cambridge, living below the Montgomerys, the faculty apartment on campus, and lastly, the one they own now. One hand, five houses. A lifetime in a fist."

"A lifetime in a fist" stuck with me. It truly is just an eloquent turn of phrase, but it made me pause -- because I have lived in more places than I can count on one hand, or even two. We moved around quite a lot when I was a kid (Toledo, Columbus, Fairborn, Beavercreek, Fairborn again, Pittsfield, Orono, Billerica), and I know it changed who I am. I learned how to make friends quickly, but also how to be alone. I learned to adapt to my environment, but also how to hide who I was. What I regret from all that movement is how quickly I learned not to let people get to know me. I didn't make close friends because I was sure to be moving again in another year. I've gotten over that, to some extent, now that I am in control of where I live, and for how long. But a reserve remains, a wariness that if I actually love you, I will only have to pick up and move on.

  posted @ 8:47 AM |

Wednesday, February 4    

Will you marry me?
"'The history of our nation has demonstrated that separate is seldom, if ever, equal,' the four justices who ruled in favor of gay marriage wrote in the advisory opinion. 'The [civil unions] bill maintains an unconstitutional, inferior, and discriminatory status for same-sex couples,'" quotes the Boston Globe.

The Massachusetts Supreme Court actually gets it -- civil unions aren't the same as marriage, and denying homosexuals the right to get married is morally, ethically, and in every other possible way wrong, wrong, wrong. Every politician who stands up and talks about defending the sanctity of marriage makes me sick. I want them to look a gay man or woman in the eye and tell them point-blank: "You don't deserve to get married because you're different." Fuck only knows who I'm going to vote for in the Democratic primary with these choices, but I wish someone would have the courage that the Massachusetts Supreme Court has shown, the courage to say, "This is wrong. We need to make it right."

  posted @ 11:23 AM |

Tuesday, February 3    

Not quite as controversial as Ms. Jackson's right one
Mashed potatoes are the world's most perfect food. Discuss.

  posted @ 9:10 AM |


You must have me confused with someone else
I received an obviously expensive, painstakingly designed, and actually quite lovely advertisement for Infiniti. Now, I don't know what kind of screwed-up demographic I've landed myself in, but I know this: I don't have the money for an Infiniti, and if I did, I sure as hell would not buy one.

However, I am considering harvesting my eggs for one of these. Or maybe one of these. Perhaps if I added a kidney to the bargain, I could get one of these.

  posted @ 8:15 AM |

Monday, February 2    

Insert witty remark here
I was going to say something funny and insightful, but then I didn't. The truth is, I miss you. Period. End of story.

Now I'm going to go home and do all the dumb-ass things we humans have to do while we wait around for our lives to begin.

  posted @ 1:38 PM |

Sunday, February 1    

Those are my boys
Super Bowl Champions, people! Goddamn if Vinatieri didn't come through in the clutch again. (Because, let's face it, what the hell happened to our defense in the second half? Thankfully, Tom Brady (aka my boyfriend) knows how to get things done.) I've said it before, and I'll say it again: There is nothing like Boston in playoff season. Whether it's the Sox or the Pats, there's a certain spirit that seems to join us all. (Okay, so, yeah, I may have been honking my horn with everyone else on the ride home tonight. We won! We fucking won with 4 seconds left on the clock! Second Super Bowl in three years, baby!)

Damn. How's a girl supposed to sleep after that?

  posted @ 9:00 PM |


Pam and I took a two-hour drive last night to see the Springfield Spirit. "The who?" I can hear you asking. (It's part of my spidey-sense, people. Or is it my bionic ear? I never remember which.) The Spirit is a semi-pro women's basketball team. Clearly, I am not getting enough women's basketball, so I had to leave the state to get me some. (BC was at Notre Dame yesterday and let's not talk about it, because I'll cry, okay? I'll cry.) Actually, a big part of why I wanted to see a game is because BC's own Brianne Stepherson is starting for the Spirit and doing a damn fine job of it, too. It may have been one of the coolest things of my fan-life to see Bree take on Tina Thompson. (It was also very cool to be this close to Tina Thompson. She has attitude enough for three basketball players, and she was not afraid to give the refs a piece of her mind. Many times.)

All in all, the game itself was a little disappointing -- a lot of the players were phoning it in, making for a lethargic first half. It was also a little sad to see players of this caliber playing in a tiny gym at Central Connecticut State. I know I'm supposed to be happy that they're playing at all, but I'm not.

  posted @ 9:50 AM |

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