It's Jessica or Jess, Never Jessie!

So, it’s summer time. I feel lazy and uninspired due to the lack of earth-shaking events going on in my life. I try to blog about things of weight, things of substance but sometimes it feels good just to write about nothing at all. Fellow blogger Amanda, whose blog you can view HERE, had a fun entry that I thought I could copy-cat. This posting is about me, not the me of abstract thoughts and flowery wisdom but the me of “I hate wearing sunglasses for too long because after a while you get a red mark on your nose.”

**Name—Jessica Nicole Driver. Growing up, I hated my name. Don’t we all? I thought it was a boy’s name because I knew a boy named “Jesse” in second grade. My mother gave me the middle name “Nicole” because she was certain she was having a boy, and she was dead-set on naming him Nicholas. When I came gasping into the world without a penis, she knew Nicholas probably wouldn’t be as fitting as Nicole. Weirdly and randomly enough my dad had some sort of stalker-like obsession with the actress Jessica Lange and thus, he christened me with the name of a now aging 80’s celebrity. I think my flair for drama was instilled at birth.

Sidenote: Jessica was the most popular female name in 1986. Bingo mom and dad, you weren’t as creative as you assumed.

**Birthday—November 3, 1986. The night before my birth my mother was riding the slide at the State Fair. I like to think that somehow deep-fried Twinkies and the shallow ups and downs of carnival rides induced labor.

Sidenote: I am an election baby. My birthday falls around election time every 4 years. On November 2^nd, 2004 George Bush was re-elected. I turned 18 the next day. Let’s just say I was not pleased with the outcome.

**Fun Facts.

I can make the perfect omelette. It’s all about the flip to which I have perfected.

I hate when I’m working out and my Ipod doesn’t know which song I need to come on next to keep myself motivated. Why can’t Apple read minds yet?

Make-up first, blow dry hair second. Always.

My favorite part about drinking a cappuccino is sucking down the last sip, where the sugar has accumulated in the bottom of the cup. Delicious!

I used to hate my freckles, now I like them.

Winter over summer. Always

When I was 9 years old I pulled a girl off the monkey bars and as a result she had to have knee surgery. I warned her not to tell anybody and she never did. I wish I could harness that powerful disregard and use it against my current people-pleasing personality.

One of my favorite scenes from a movie is the opening credits to “Curly Sue” when she’s pulling all of her treasures out of her pathetic, homeless bag. Classic.

I am the hippy, the suburban hippy by default when the rest of your family is a bit too conservative.

I shed a silent tear today for Gli Azzurri, the Italian national soccer team who did not make it through to the second round of the World Cup. (My inner childhood tomboy is making a cameo right now)

I don't know, a fish named Elizabeth Gold, a stuffed bear I still own, my favorite pasta shape (Orechiette by the way), my first kiss...insignificant and yet entirely important because without them I just wouldn't be ME.

Buon Viaggio Olenka!

I was talking to a very lovely lady tonight who used to be the mother of my boyfriend, and who I now just consider a friend and confidant. We got to chatting about my blog and she said “I think you are doing a great job capturing the exasperation of being educated and loose on the world.” In my brain tiny electrodes and sparks went flying, it was an “Aha” moment. I thought to myself, “Yes, yes, educated and loose on the world, that’s exactly how I feel.” It sounds so explosive and exciting but somehow restricted and cautionary, which is how my every existence seems to be functioning at the moment. At times I feel like I was born and shot from a cannon and meant to land and bounce around the world, loose on the world if you will.

My friend Olenka was also meant to be a wild rover, a ramblin’ woman swinging between one continent and another. (Check out her blog HERE). She leaves very soon to go and teach English in South Korea. Sunday I’m throwing her a going-away bash filled with Mexican food that will surely be hard to come by in the land of fish and vegetables. I hope that she finds everything she is looking to experience while overseas and I hope that I discover a path that fulfills me while I’m over here.

Can You Picture This, What's Your Essence?

My friend Olenka recently posted on her blog, Respice Finem, about a game she plays with friends in order to get a better understanding of what lies beneath, of what's below the surface when it comes to humanity. She said she asks friends to imagine for a moment, in their heads, that a picture is being snapped of them. This picture captures your essence, your sublime, your highest point of fulfillment in life. What is the picture of?

Surprisingly enough, or not really surprising at all actually, my answer came to me right away. No hesitation. I know my picture, I think of it often. It is a conglomeration of things I have experienced and things I have yet to see. It goes like this:

At 9 p.m. I am sitting in a tiny trattoria in Orvieto eating wild boar and drinking red wine. I am surrounded by 4, maybe 5 really close friends and a boyfriend, the love of my life. Not a husband, but a man who loves me all the same. The table cloths are white and below the table is my hand intertwined with my love's. Candles light the room, not lamps. The only thing you can hear is the laughter of other tables being drowned out by our own happiness. I have a giant smile on my face. The light of a camera flashes from across the room and what does it capture? Me, my happiest moment, I'm smiling, I've just said something in perfect and fluent Italiano. I am whole, I am complete, I am home.

What would your picture say about you?

These Days I Just Want To Be Alone:

I left the house today in heels and a green dress for an interview. My nails are painted, my jewelry is in place, my resume is printed neatly inside the folder that I use for such events. I drove to the dumpy law firm in central Phoenix where I was scheduled to meet for this temporary work. For 6 weeks I thought I could handle working in that old building with plastic flooring and a broken water cooler. I thought I had this in the bag. I am a college graduate. I am wearing pearls. The lady next to me has acrylic nails longer than her forearm and messy black pants on, covered in animal fur. I took the aptitude test. I failed the aptitude test. You are allotted 6 mistakes, I missed 7. Consequently, I did not get called in for an interview. The lady with hooker heels on did, the lady with a spaghetti strap dress, sitting like a line backer did. I walked out into the blaring summer heat feeling defeated and ashamed.

Defeated because again I remain unemployed. Ashamed because I judged these other women too quickly. My degree, my G.P.A, my bubbly personality matter little. I missed 7 questions, the ill prepared floozy in red probably only missed 5. It's a cruel, cruel world.

Last week I was turned down for a job after several rounds of interviewing because they determined that I was "too qualified" and that I needed to look for something that would better fit my intellect. This week I couldn't cut the mustard. I am too dumb and too smart for my own good.

I hate writing about all of this. I hate putting it out there for the world to see, my flaws, my inadequacy. It is embarrassing but it is what it is. This is my diary. This is my life. These are the things they don't prepare you for as an undergrad. This is what it's like to be young and single and in your early 20's just trying to pay your bills.

They say (although I'm not sure who first coined this stupid advice) that when you fall down you must immediately pick yourself back up again. But sometimes when I fall, I don't want to get back up. I want to sink even lower. I want to slither into my covers and put on my headphones and listen to The Concretes or Bob Dylan.

Sometimes I just want to be alone. Sometimes I just want to scream "WHY THE HELL CAN'T I FIND A DECENT JOB?!?"

Thanks But No Thanks:

Dear Blogging World,

Guess what I'm pretty sick and tired of,...people passing judgement or expressing their feelings about my life and the direction of it. I'm tired of people interjecting their opinions, their thoughts, their well-sounded advice into my world. I am not your soundboard, your think-tank, a rubber ball to bounce ideas off of. I don't want to listen intently while you press your finger tips to your lips and say "ok, but listen to this..."

This week I did temp work at a law firm, I did not save babies or cure cancer. I didn't help clean up the oil spill or study really hard for some exam. I printed Excel spreadsheets. And that's it. Oh and I went to the gym, a lot. So for me, working out and clicking "print" was enough this week. So next time you have something to say, thanks but no thanks.