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Author: JennyTrout

Pirates aren’t that bad, mkay?

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So, as royalty statements went out this quarter, the near-deafening cry that went up from ebook authors was, “STUPID PIRATES”. This is pretty much to be expected. If I do a google search of my pen name, Abigail Barnette (Abigail’s latest steampunk story, BOUND IN BRASS is now available at All Romance Ebooks), illegal download requests and sites pop up on the very first page. It’s enough to make an author gnash her teeth and rend her garments. Unless we start to look at it another way.

This man is not the enemy. This man gets us drunk.

First of all, we need to stop looking at every download as a sale lost. There’s an old saying, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” I’ve never really understood that saying, because it usually has to do with women giving up sex for free, and the whole milk metaphor seems to work better in conjunction with semen, but that’s a blog post for another time. While one could apply this to e-piracy of our books by saying, “If they couldn’t get the books for free, they would purchase them,” I think the opposite is true. If ebook pirates couldn’t get the books (milk) for free, they wouldn’t buy them (the cow), anyway. Because clearly, if you’re getting it for free, it’s not something you’d be willing to spend money on. The opportunity is there for these people. They can easily go find our books on any of the fine retail websites that carry them. But they don’t. Instead, they go on message boards and say, “Looking for a torrent, plz,” and wait. They wait for it for free, when they could easily drop the measly three or so bucks to have it immediately. To me, that kind of proves that they don’t want that book that bad. They want it, but obviously not enough to pay for it.
So, instead of going, “I saw that my book was illegally downloaded twelve times from this site, that means twelve sales I lost,” maybe we should look at it like, “My book was downloaded twelve times. That means twelve more people read it than would have otherwise.” Sure, this doesn’t have the same monetary value to us as authors, but it does have some value.
I’ll fess up to something here: I’ve been known to download episodes of popular cable television shows because I’m too poor and too cheap to pay for cable. It is what it is, okay? Occasionally, I’ll tell one of my friends, “You have got to watch this show, it’s totally awesome.” But she won’t illegally download anything. Not a song, not a book, not a tv show, not a set of photoshop brushes, nothing. She is the anti-pirate. I can respect that. So, when I tell her, “You really need to see this show,” she waits for the dvd, and either rents it or buys it through perfectly legal means.
Let’s extrapolate that out, to the world of books, specifically, romance books, where our reputations as authors are based largely on word-of-mouth sales. Let’s pretend our pirate’s name is… I don’t know, Sheila. We’ll call her Sheila. For whatever reason, be it our current economy or just plain being a miser, Sheila doesn’t spend much money on books. If she wants a paperback, she gets it from her library, if she wants an ebook, she downloads it from a pirate site. So, let’s say Sheila downloads… oh, I don’t know, GIANT by Abigail Barnette, and she likes it so much that she tells her friend, we’ll call this friend… Harriet, about how great GIANT is, what with the sweet romance and super hot love scenes and all. Harriet, being morally opposed to piracy, goes and buys GIANT from ARe. And while she’s there, she picks up the first book in the series, GLASS SLIPPER.
Obviously, this isn’t going to happen every single time, so let’s talk about a different scenario. Let’s say Sheila reads the book, then goes to a review site, like Amazon or GoodReads, and leaves a glowing review. And, since she’s such a book nut, her reviews are being followed by, I don’t know, fifteen people. That’s fifteen people who have just been told that GIANT is an amazing book, and fifteen people more likely to check it out.
Not to mention the fact that just having your name come up with more search results on google is a good thing. If I run a search for either of the names I write under, the last thing I would want is to have six results lead back to me and the fact that I write, and the rest of them pointing to a real estate agent in Kentucky who has more internet gravitas than I do. I’m grateful to pirates for the fact that when I search Abigail Barnette, google no longer asks me, “Did you mean Abigail Breslin?” That shit is disheartening. So, even if you google your name and all that comes up is your site and a thousand piracy sites, at least it’s saying, “Hey, this person is out there, and they write books, and they’re not Abigail Breslin.”
Now, please understand that I’m not trying defend theft. But I’m consistently surprised at how many authors publicly bitch about piracy, when readers are quick to point out how obnoxious they find it. When my latest Jennifer Armintrout release, AMERICAN VAMPIRE came out, I joked to a reader on twitter, “Thanks for buying it instead of pirating it.” I meant it as a joke, because I really don’t give a shit what other people do with their computers. But the reader was clearly taken aback, judging from her response. I’ve probably lost that reader over my stupid joke, and it’s not like I have so many readers that I can afford to lose them.
Let’s take that example and extrapolate it out again. Let’s say I love an author. Love, love, love this author, so much so that I follow her on facebook or twitter or some other form of social media that I don’t know about because my youth is over and I’m relegated to some hellish limbo wherein I’m no longer “young” but not yet “middle-aged”. But when she’s tweeting or facebooking or yonking or whatever people do these days, she’s always on and on about pirates. Pirates this, pirates that. It seems like her disdain for pirates has consumed her, so much so that everyone is a suspect, including me. Also, it’s clear from these tweets and yonks or honks or franks or whatever that she’s not really interested in crafting stories for me to enjoy. That’s secondary to the real reason she’s writing, which is money. And if she’s not getting enough to be appeased, I’m going to have to listen to her complain about it.
So, I implore you, authors of the world. Let’s just shut up about the book piracy thing. Yes, it sucks. But we’re not losing as much money as we assume we are. If they’re pirating our books, they’re not buying. That doesn’t mean they’d have bought them in the first place. And having our work in front of more readers is a good thing. And while we’re only in it for the money, we can’t tell readers that. It would destroy the illusion that we’re all artsy, creative types who live for our work.
WHICH WE TOTALLY DO.

Unexpected Benefits to New York Recognizing Gay Marriage

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Like many people across the nation today, I’m thrilled as can be that last night, New York became the sixth state in the nation to allow folk who are homosexual to get married. I mean, there is that horrible, cynical side of me that is irked that only six states have done this so far, that goes, “Oh gee, you’re going to let them get married, just like real people? That’s mighty big of you,” but even I can set that crotchety old-manness aside to be genuinely grateful for the brotherhood of man today.

(That wasn’t an intentional reference to How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying. Musical references just kind of come out of me. I’m like the Seth McFarlane of not doing anything of value. So basically just Seth McFarlane.)
So, this decision has gotten me thinking of the unexpected effects this is going to have on the economy in New York state. This is what I’ve come up with, so far:
There’s a 50% increase in job openings for wedding planners.
I’m not great at math or statistics or presenting factual information in a helpful way, so I figure that about half the people in New York are gay, and half are straight. Let’s say half of those gay people and half of those straight people are engaged. We’re going to need someone to plan these weddings, and I bet wedding planners in Manhattan alone are already swamped. Plus, we have to factor in all those “sensitive” guys who told their long term girlfriends that they would get married “When love is equal” or some other political shit they were hiding behind because they’re really afraid of commitment. I’m looking at you, Brad Pitt, even though you do not live in New York that I am aware of. So, now we’ve got gay engaged people and commitment-phobic engaged people looking to get married. We’re gonna need some more wedding planners.
So many more opportunities for cake.
This one saddens me a little bit, because most of the people I know who are my friends and also gay aren’t dating anyone. Also, we live in Michigan, a state that does not recognize gay marriage. So, while the thought of this makes me super happy, it’s bittersweet. See, there are going to be more weddings, and therefore more cake. And I’m not going to get any of it. But still, if you live in New York state, there is a fair chance the number of weddings you’re required to attend will go up. I know, I know, that’s a total bummer and you don’t even want to spend every weekend at Crate and Barrel trying to find the cheapest thing on somebody’s registry before dashing to the church, but I assure you: there will be cake. So, don’t think of this legislation as another way your friends can suck the money right out of your bank account in a socially acceptable manner. Think of it as an increase in cake.
Divorce lawyers, expect to buy a boat in eight years.
Everyone is super happy right now, and I don’t want to cast a pall on that, but the fact is, in the United States, it’s estimated that most divorces occur around the eight year mark. This is fantastic news for divorce lawyers in New York, who just had their client base expanded for them by the state legislature. Doubled, if you use my faulty math.
Expect at least three gay-wedding themed reality shows on basic cable.
You know it’s coming. Turn on any basic cable channel, they probably have a show about weddings. Planning weddings, buying dresses, family drama, people can’t get enough of that shit. Now just imagine “Say Yes To The Dress” but with two brides arguing over what they should be wearing. I think it’s safe to say that those creative liberal television types in New York City are going into development meetings as we speak: “It’s called My Big Fat Gay Wedding. Write that down.”
Okay, so it’s fun to joke. And maybe some of these predictions will actually come true. But the bottom line is, I’m so, so happy for all our brothers and sisters in New York state who happen to love someone of the same gender and who are now, far, far too late, being recognized as our fellow Americans.
Now other forty-four states? Get your asses in gear, and stop your fucking whinging.
God bless New York, and God Bless America.

Wherein I change the lines to Mean Girls to be about Billy Joel instead of Regina George

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How do I even begin to explain Billy Joel?

Billy Joel is flawless. He has two Fendi purses and a silver Lexus.

I hear his hair’s insured for ten-thousand dollars.

I hear he does car commercials. In Japan.

His favorite movie is Varsity blues.

One time, he met John Stamos on a plane. And he told him he was pretty.

One time, he punched me in the face. It was awesome.

He always looks fierce. He always wins Spring Fling Queen.

We all remember that James Frey is an asshole, right?

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Apparently, James Frey, author of A Million Little Pieces, the “memoir” famous for being a steaming pile of bullshit, is going back on Oprah to promote his new book.
If I sound a little bristly, it’s because I think this guy is a fucking scam artist. But I’m apparently in the minority. If you go to CNN’s entertainment blog, The Marquee Blog, you’ll find a story about Jame’s Frey’s return to the Oprah show and lots of comments from readers who feel that it was Oprah, and not James Frey, in the wrong during his first appearance on the show. I feel it is my job, nay, my divine duty, to call it like I sees it and tackle one of these comments, a statement that hits every single one of my “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me!” buttons.
Jan writes: whether the book was completely true or not, it was a compelling read. very intense. and it told a good story and demonstrated a good lesson. i bought several of them for addicts and they truly appreciated the books even if they were not 100% true. i don’t know about his new book but i always felt that oprah went overboard in taking him to task on her show the way she did. it was pretty tough to watch. he did what he did, with the help and advice of very knowledgeable people in the business. i think he was more of a dupe that she was
What this comment tells me, Jan, is that you don’t give a shit about truth or integrity, just as long as you’re entertained. It doesn’t matter if the book was appreciated by people struggling with addiction. It was a lie. And it was no one’s fault but his own.
This is a sentiment that got thrown around a lot when the controversy first hit the news. a call-in on Larry King’s show, Oprah herself blamed his publisher for the book being, well, full of lies and half-truths, saying it was the publisher’s job to verify the facts. Of course, she changed her tune later, but it apparently stuck in the minds of a lot of readers, like Jan there, who feel that Frey was simply the sweet, unwitting pawn of an evil publisher.
I’ve got some experience in the publishing industry. Not in memoirs, mind you, but I do have eight fiction novels in print and five novellas in e-book format, and I’m currently working as an editor for a publishing house that will go unnamed for professional reasons. Whenever I have signed a contract, there’s been this little section in it that says something to the effect of, “this is all my work, and if I’m lying it’s totally on me.” I would bet that James Frey signed a contract with a similar clause in it, something like, “If I’m lying and exploiting dead people for my own gain, it’s nobody’s fault but my own.” And when I’m editing a book, I don’t feel like the onus is on me to make sure that every historical fact the author includes is accurate. I assume they know what they’re talking about, and I don’t get paid enough or have the time to research how people cleaned their teeth in Victorian Britain. If the facts turn out to be inaccurate and readers complain, they’re holding the author responsible. Blaming the publisher for James Frey’s lies is like a five-year-old blaming his mom for his lies. “Yes, I lied, but you listened to me lying. Really, you’re the one at fault.”
Let’s go back to that that “exploiting dead people for my own gain” thing. James Frey writes in A Million Little Pieces about a tragic car accident that caused the death of his only friend in high school. Of course, this turned out to be all lies, except for the part about the car/train accident that actually happened, and the girl’s surviving family objected strongly to her portrayal and the inclusion of her death in the book, saying that she and Frey didn’t know each other, were not friends, and that Frey was not involved in the accident or the aftermath in any way.
Now let’s hop back to the statement that a lot of readers make: “It doesn’t matter if it was fake, it helped my friend/my husband/my dad/my whoever, because they’re an addict.”
Drug addiction is a difficult dragon to slay. I’ve had my own problems with addiction in the past. You know what would have definitely not helped me during those times? Finding out that the thing that had inspired me to seek recovery was actually a gigantic, steaming pile of horseshit and failure. But setting that aside, whenever anyone says that James Frey’s lies are admissible because they “helped people,” what they’re saying is, “I don’t care about the emotional pain and stress this douchebag money grabber caused this dead teenager’s family. Yes, they’re real people, who have a real vested interest in this farce, but I choose to ignore that in order to still feel good about this wannabe hardass who goes on national tv with his big, sad eyes and cries about how life was so hard being a white suburban teen in the midwest.”
Leaving aside his lies, which included turning a five-hour stay in jail into the life of a hardened criminal (a word he capitalized throughout the book, to really drive home what a hard-ass he is), there’s the fact that he’s created a sweatshop for people who want to write but don’t want to make a living from it. You can read about that here .
So what we have here is a guy who lies, won’t admit he’s lying in the face of overwhelming evidence, exploits dead teenagers and living writers, and there are still people out there defending this curly haired fuck?
What kind of a world do we live in, that this guy is able to continue making a living and go out in public without everyone throwing rotten garbage at him? Is he not the definition of a super villain? James Frey is like Lex Luthor with half the brain, and we’re funding his career by buying his books? Fantastic, this is exactly the world I want to be living in. Fuck integrity and honesty, as long as we’re entertained.
“Are you not entertained?”

And now people are wondering if Oprah will apologize for her behavior during his last appearance on her show. Why should she? She read this guy’s book, she believed it and trusted that he was telling the truth. Of course she believed him, he ran all over hell and high-water, telling everyone who would listen that his book was 100% fact and he is now and forever shall be the hardest motherfucker with the biggest balls ever, an ex-con so tough he survived a root canal with no anesthesia at the hands of a Nazi dentist and also he’s Superman and he kicked his addiction to every drug ever while simultaneously rescuing babies and kittens from a burning meth house, and then he drove a bulldozer into a police car and stood in the middle of the street with his arms wide open, receiving their hate like Ed Norton in American History X only not a white supremacist. Only after he was caught did he start to offer up excuses for his lies, like he was Obi-wan telling Luke that the entire “hit a police car and faced an eight year prison sentence for felony mayhem” thing he told him about was true “from a certain point of view.”

Stop defending this asshole, everybody. Seriously. Stop defending him, stop proselytizing about the power of A Million Little Pieces to heal even the most hardened of drug users. Stop insisting that James Frey was the victim while he continues to victimize others. And stop demanding that Oprah apologize. The person who needs to apologize is James Frey, but that’s too much to hope for, so long as we continually reward whoever steals the title of “Most Audacious Liar”.

What it’s like living in Michigan

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Today I was going to blog two new xtranormal videos of my husband and I having normal husband/wife conversation, just to prove that we’re both probably mentally ill. However, when I went to bed yesterday, it looked like this outside:

And when I got up this morning, it looked like this:

So I felt this was something I couldn’t let slip idly past without comment.

Here’s my comment: “What the shit is this? Wasn’t it 83 degrees last Sunday? And we complained that the house was too hot and we all slept nekkid on top of our covers because it was unbearably warm? And now there’s snow on the ground and in the trees like a goddamned Christmas wonderland? What the balls?”
There are a lot of clever jokes about Michigan and what it’s like to live here, but I think for the people who don’t live in the midwestern United States, well, they can’t possibly know that those jokes are basically all true. There was an email forward going around for a while called “You know you’re a Michigander if…” and there was a part where it says, “If you’ve ever had sunburn and frostbite in the same week.”
That’s this week, folks. That’s this week.

We have lost our damned minds.

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You’ve probably heard by now about the video burning up the internet of a six-year-old being patted down by a TSA officer. If you haven’t, I’ll provide the video here, so you can get an idea of what people are so furious about. I will warn you that it’s disturbing; I was surprised at how uncomfortable I was when watching it.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3sH1GaO_nw&w=480&h=390]

Before I say what I want to say, I have to make it very clear that I do not blame the TSA agent in the video. She was doing her job, and she did it with respect for the parents and the child and made sure to reassure the girl. At no point does the girl appear distressed or uncomfortable, and I give credit to the agent doing the pat down. In fact, I give a lot of credit to TSA agents as a whole. I’ve only very rarely encountered a TSA agent who seemed gruff or unprofessional. When I flew out of Newark, NJ last September, the TSA agent who patiently went through my bag and explained to me what could and couldn’t go through the checkpoint was very friendly and smiled the whole time, and never once tried to intimidate or threaten me.

But this is absurd. There is a widely quoted statement attributed to Benjamin Franklin that is often cited when speaking about the current state of airport security: “They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.” Apparently, there are people in my country who feel they are smarter than Benjamin Franklin and more important than the Constitution.

I’m a fan of the fourth amendment, which reads: “The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.” When you read this, and you think about our current airport security policies, you have to kind of wonder at what point “wants to use an airplane to reach a destination” began to fall under “probable cause”. This six-year-old, if we’re to assume that TSA is not violating the Constitution of The United States, somehow gave the agents at the security checkpoint probable cause to assume that she had contraband of some kind hidden on her person.

At this point, I think it’s fair to say that we as a people are not looking to TSA to stop drug runners and mules the way we expected airport security to do pre-9/11. We’re looking to TSA to stop hijackings and bombings, and that does seem to be their sole focus. We’re also expecting them to do this, and it is a rightful expectation, without profiling passengers. So, in keeping with their mission, this search of a six-year-old girl was completely reasonable. The question should not be “Why are we searching six-year-old girls,” but “Why are we allowing these searches in the first place.”

Many people will attest to the need for heightened security in airports based on the fact that 9/11 occurred at all. But 9/11 was an inevitability. The World Trade Center was a complex of seven buildings housing some of the most financially powerful companies in the United States, as well as offices that worked in close conjunction with the infrastructure of the United States. The towers themselves had been targeted for terrorist attack before, as had the other buildings the 9/11 terrorists had chosen for destruction in the attack. Airport security was not responsible for these attacks, nor could increased security in airports have stopped the events from occurring if the terrorists had chosen some other method of attack.

Somehow, though, we continue to see “averting another 9/11” as a perfectly logical reason to subject travelers to unlawful search in airports. “It hasn’t happened again!” proponents of these measures will state with pride, which is absurd. If we were to base the fact that 9/11 hasn’t happened again in the ten years since the attack and attribute this victory to our security measures, then our security measures lose purely on the basis that before 9/11, 9/11 hadn’t happened at all. The first commercial flight in the United States flew in 1914, and 9/11 happened in 2001. That’s a pretty impressive track record, in my opinion, for our old security measures. The problem with this method of accounting is that you can’t prove a negative. We can’t prove that our current measures have diverted terrorist plots.

At this point, someone reading might be saying, “Fine, Jen, if you don’t like it, don’t fly. There’s no right to fly in this country!” Absolutely, there is no “right to fly”. But pre-9/11, it was an accepted risk, albeit a very, very small one, that someone might hijack or blow up your plane. The scale of 9/11 seems to have thrown us all out of whack, to the point that we are willing to give up our freedom for safety. Not real safety, but the illusion of safety. The comfortable feeling when we get on that plane that no one will be planning to blow it up or drive it into a building, because there are security measures in place to prevent it. But no one on those planes that were destroyed in 9/11 thought, as they got on that plane, that someone would be killing them on that flight, because all the passengers had been through security. When the planes actually were hijacked, no one fought back, because there was a certain expectation of how hijackings are conducted. None of those passengers or pilots or security check point workers could predict the future, any more than TSA is able to predict the future now. It’s not a fault on anyone’s part, it’s just how the world is.

So, if you don’t like it, don’t fly? How about we do this, instead: rather than subject everyone in the country to degrading public search without just cause, rather than ask passengers to show strangers images of their naked bodies, rather than have our children groped by strangers in public, rather than hand over our rights to our own bodies to our government, we accept that airline travel has inherent risk. We accept that our country has enemies, and that those enemies may attack us. We accept that for all the freedom we have, there comes a cost, and at times that cost is very, very high.

I’m not advocating a return to the days of getting on an airplane with a sword as carryon, which, no kidding at all, I did in 1996 on a flight from Malaga to New York. I’m advocating a return to our senses. Right now, we’re trying to outthink the terrorists, to the point that our suspicion will begin to hamper us. “A guy put a bomb in his shoe! Check everybody’s shoes!” only works until the terrorists know that we’re checking shoes, and then they move on to the next plan, or the next venue. Terrorist plots that the United States have thwarted since 9/11 have been predominately focused on fuel lines and public utilities, not airlines. That’s not to say, “They’re done, let’s completely drop our guard,” but “Perhaps we need to shift our focus slightly.” There has to be a happy medium on the spectrum that is, on the low end, “Get on a plane with a sword,” and on the high end, “Stick our fingers in a six-year-old’s underpants.”

I love my country. I love being an American. But I also love sanity. “If you don’t like it, don’t fly,” to me, smacks of misplaced faith that our government can protect us from every inevitability, and that is not what our government was intended to do. So, I say to to everyone with a “don’t like it, don’t fly,” attitude, if you don’t like the reality that air travel carries an incredibly slight risk, don’t fly, and allow the rest of us to travel with our rights in tact. And as for protecting the people on the ground, let’s all accept that as long as our country has enemies, we are all potential targets with, again, a very, very slight risk of our lives being ended by terrorism, just like every other citizen of every other country in the world.

Our founding fathers were very cognizant of the fact that should their revolution fail, they would be put to death for their cause. We owe it to them to preserve the ideals they stood for, even if it means feeling slightly less safe when seated across the aisle from an obviously deranged and death hungry kindergartener on an airplane.

Shower with The Allman Brothers

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Just a few moments ago– literally, moments– I was in the bathtub, listening to my Pandora Radio “Allman Brothers/Willie Nelson” combo station (if you really let that sink in, I won’t have to explain that this is another “Jen gets high” stories”) when “Jessica” by The Allman Brothers came on.

If you don’t watch Top Gear, I have to tell you right now that this is going to be about %60 percent less funny. But anyway, the theme to Top Gear is “Jessica”, or a synthed up version of it, anyway. Sitting in my tub, I started laughing. Then I noticed it was echoey, so I put on my best Jeremy Clarkson voice and said, “Tonight! Richard Hammond sucks his own cock! I get arrested soliciting a prostitute, and James dies in an autoerotic asphyxia accident!”
The fact that I laughed out loud, or “Loled” as they say in the parlance of our time, got me thinking. How often are my characters laughing per book. I know that if you opened Ashes To Ashes and threw a dart in it, you’d hit somebody crying. But I wonder how many times I just lazily throw that verb at the page because I needed to tag some dialogue to keep it from becoming a screenplay.
Moreover, what are other really repetitive things I write? I have writer friends who I can guarantee certain phrases will pop up in everything they write. I’ve read authors who repeat the exact same descriptions in every single book of their series. Everyone has their own voice, and sometimes that voice echoes itself.
Reader, what are some often repeated phrases of your favorite authors? Is there any particular phrase of mine that you’ve noticed, or that you wish I would stop using? Is there anything you find repeated over and over in your own writing?

Blast From My Past

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So, this afternoon, while I hid upstairs while my husband told the visiting Mormons that no, his wife wasn’t at home (I have a weakness for the religious and I usually invite them in, which invites return visits. I’ve been in the process of becoming a Jehovah’s Witness for the past three years and I don’t even want to, this is the depths of my inability to say no to religious folk), I decided I would sit on the floor of my bedroom and go through my big ole’ trunk of memories from my younger days.

Doesn’t everybody have one of those?

I found some amusing pictures of my recently-deceased grandfather, a series of snapshots I took whenever I caught him sleeping on family vacation ’97. I vaguely recall that it went from, a “Ha ha, I’m going to take a picture of grandpa sleeping!” joke to a full blown, “If I casually turn on golf and hide behind that chair, I can get him again!” sniper attack.

Also in the rubble of my high school days? A very sweet letter from my first boyfriend in which he apologized for not breaking up with me well, and expressing a hope that we could be friends. I feel real guilt over the fact that I don’t think I ever saw him once after my last day of high school. Whoops. Hope he’s still alive somewhere. Wonder what he thinks about the recent decline of funny on The Simpsons.

There were programs from shows I saw during high school, and shows I was in during high school. Tickets from Alanis Morrisette, Rusted Root, The Verve Pipe, The Cranberries, REM, Patti Smith, and Radiohead concerts. An 8mm video cassette that I would literally pay a hundred bucks to know what’s on it. Horrid poetry about how no one would ever love me.

As I started to look over the dreams I’d had as a teenager, and thought about how different my life has turned out in comparison to what I’d thought I’d be doing now, I got a little sad. Maybe I knew more than I thought I did back then. Maybe my life might have turned out differently, and I could be sitting in an apartment overlooking central park, polishing my Tonys and chatting on the phone to my BFF Kristen Chenoweth.

And then I found two things that pretty much convinced me that, no, I am in the life I was destined to live, for better or worse. One was a folder full of Forever Knight fanfic zines. Another was a journal entry from my senior English class. The teacher used to write quotes on the board and make us journal about them. I found my entries, which, helpfully, don’t have the quotes copied on to them.

September 25, 1997
When the aliens finally come and get me, I will be pretty cool about it. I’ll let them do their little experiments on me and whatever, and then I would show them around Earth. I think I would take them bowling, cause that would really help them understand our culture, I think. I think I wouldn’t let them see Independence Day, though, cause that might peach them off.
I have seen four UFOs in my life, but none of them have stopped to pick me up.
If I were going to have someone play me in a movie, it would be me, cause I act, or Alex Kingston from
Moll Flanders, cause we have the same hair.

I would love to know what she had written on the board that day to encourage such an explosion of verbal diarrhea.

I would be even more interested to find out what she had written on September 29, 1997:

Okay, I think that the quote means that when you are a kid, you look at things a lot differently and you aren’t always trying so hard to figure things out. When you’re a kid and you are thinking about something, you find one answer that seems logical to you and you stick with it, but adults feel like they have to know everything, so they don’t think as much, they try to have it all figured out. I think it all boils down to your imagination, and how much you use it.

Setting aside the fact that I have no idea what I was talking about, I think I was onto something there. When you’re a child, a simple answer does satisfy you more than when you’re an adult. But it’s interesting to look at something like this and think, “What would I think of myself, if seventeen year old Jen could see who she will be at thirty?” I wonder if she had any idea how much she will have to use her imagination as an adult.