"You Won't Be There to Say I'm Not Allowed To"
Jennifer is making lunch for me. My roommate, who worked tirelessly to prepare everything today and stressed out and did a wonderful, beautiful job, came home and asked me what I wanted for lunch because she was making it. For me. I do not deserve such people in my life. But that is for my next post.
For Jennifer.
-She is the one who always sings in the shower (and everywhere else too, really) just because she likes it. She'll put on her headphones and her brown felt hat and sit at her computer, belting out Aerosmith like she's Steve Tyler himself (only with a much smaller and comelier mouth, I assure you).
-She's always concerned about me. Whether I've eaten or slept or studied or done anything I need to do. She keeps track of my life far better than I do, which is great because I honestly need someone to follow me around and keep tabs on things. That way, I will never double-book a night up with dates and end up missing the hockey game (true story; it was really sad).
-She has been there through it all. Seriously. Numbers 14-21, she knows them and their stories intimately. She gives me advice and is the go-between. When guys want to know about me, they go to her, because she knows what's up more than any other being on the face of this planet, and that sometimes includes even me. She knows how capricious I can be and how my boredom develops and has seen my descent from a carefree, cold child to a rather tormented individual. Only Jennifer knows how much more it hurts me every time, and only Jennifer calms me down from my guilt and my grief and my self-loathing. And only Jennifer knows the contents of The List. (Which version are we on, by the way?)
-She is more like a sister to me than a roommate. Taylor made that comment at the beginning of the year, saying we acted like sisters. I've never had a sister, so I didn't see it at first. But who gave me a lecture today about doing things to make myself happy? (Oh, how familiar it sounded too. I am such a hypocrite sometimes.) Who got in a fake shouting match last night that probably created alarm in various individuals? Who do I spend Thanksgiving with and tease and get in conversations with her mother on the phone and know her siblings?
-She made me bagel bites. And they are good. And she felt bad for making them crispy, even though that's the way I like them.
-She can drag out conversations forever. When I intend to be in bed by midnight (well, in all fairness, I'm usually distracted by my computer too), I can often be found at 4 a.m., sitting on my bed, deep in frustrated conversation with her over the complicated matters of the universe. Also in the conversation category are stories. Jennifer's stories last a long, long time. But still, she is usually the one I make tell the Proposal Story, unless she is not there (like last night).
-She frustrates me to no end, that silly Oregonian. Like Cam"p"bell said, "Liz, you're weird." Wait, no, that was the other cool thing he's ever said about me. Let's try this again. Like Cambell said, We are very, VERY different. To illustrate my point: I was Jenn's date to her work Christmas party, and we were discussing the Christmas tree-chair-fire setup for Santa's arrival. She said the chair should've been a different color. I said it had to be red, so it was fine. She looks at things aesthetically, I look at things culturally or analytically or whatever. Now that we know this, our arguments usually progress and end much faster. Silly communist Oregonian who doesn't know how to pump her own gas. That's not her fault, though. In Oregon if you get out of the car at the gas station, they shoot you. (This may not be actual fact, as I have never been to the state and WILL never visit as a result of my having been banned. From the entire state of Oregon. Hoo shah.)
So there you have it. Jennifer is one of the reasons, and probably the main reason, I am still alive after three semesters in Utah.
For Jennifer.
-She is the one who always sings in the shower (and everywhere else too, really) just because she likes it. She'll put on her headphones and her brown felt hat and sit at her computer, belting out Aerosmith like she's Steve Tyler himself (only with a much smaller and comelier mouth, I assure you).
-She's always concerned about me. Whether I've eaten or slept or studied or done anything I need to do. She keeps track of my life far better than I do, which is great because I honestly need someone to follow me around and keep tabs on things. That way, I will never double-book a night up with dates and end up missing the hockey game (true story; it was really sad).
-She has been there through it all. Seriously. Numbers 14-21, she knows them and their stories intimately. She gives me advice and is the go-between. When guys want to know about me, they go to her, because she knows what's up more than any other being on the face of this planet, and that sometimes includes even me. She knows how capricious I can be and how my boredom develops and has seen my descent from a carefree, cold child to a rather tormented individual. Only Jennifer knows how much more it hurts me every time, and only Jennifer calms me down from my guilt and my grief and my self-loathing. And only Jennifer knows the contents of The List. (Which version are we on, by the way?)
-She is more like a sister to me than a roommate. Taylor made that comment at the beginning of the year, saying we acted like sisters. I've never had a sister, so I didn't see it at first. But who gave me a lecture today about doing things to make myself happy? (Oh, how familiar it sounded too. I am such a hypocrite sometimes.) Who got in a fake shouting match last night that probably created alarm in various individuals? Who do I spend Thanksgiving with and tease and get in conversations with her mother on the phone and know her siblings?
-She made me bagel bites. And they are good. And she felt bad for making them crispy, even though that's the way I like them.
-She can drag out conversations forever. When I intend to be in bed by midnight (well, in all fairness, I'm usually distracted by my computer too), I can often be found at 4 a.m., sitting on my bed, deep in frustrated conversation with her over the complicated matters of the universe. Also in the conversation category are stories. Jennifer's stories last a long, long time. But still, she is usually the one I make tell the Proposal Story, unless she is not there (like last night).
-She frustrates me to no end, that silly Oregonian. Like Cam"p"bell said, "Liz, you're weird." Wait, no, that was the other cool thing he's ever said about me. Let's try this again. Like Cambell said, We are very, VERY different. To illustrate my point: I was Jenn's date to her work Christmas party, and we were discussing the Christmas tree-chair-fire setup for Santa's arrival. She said the chair should've been a different color. I said it had to be red, so it was fine. She looks at things aesthetically, I look at things culturally or analytically or whatever. Now that we know this, our arguments usually progress and end much faster. Silly communist Oregonian who doesn't know how to pump her own gas. That's not her fault, though. In Oregon if you get out of the car at the gas station, they shoot you. (This may not be actual fact, as I have never been to the state and WILL never visit as a result of my having been banned. From the entire state of Oregon. Hoo shah.)
So there you have it. Jennifer is one of the reasons, and probably the main reason, I am still alive after three semesters in Utah.
posted by juxtaposer at 3:38 PM
1 Comments:
I am honored.
I don't know how to thank you. There is no one who could replace you in my life. It's love like this that makes getting through the hard parts of life worth it. To know that there is someone who will always think the world of me and never let me down if she can help it keeps me sane.
Thank you.
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