Oh the places you’ll go…

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . July 5, 2010 . 9:51AM

Last week, I was in class and fumbled in my pocket for the quarters that were there. In a 4 hour class that runs in the evening hours, it is almost impossible to go without a bottle of water or a snack. I was living on the one slice of peanut butter coated bread I’d brought with me that was supposed to last the whole day, but my mouth felt like sandpaper and my lips like little cactus pricklies.

Pricklies is a real word. And if you don’t believe me, don’t you dare play Scrabble with me, ever. I mean it.

It’s hot here.

That was a redundant statement. It’s hot like those peppers that if you eat the whole pepper it will eat your stomach from the inside out are hot.

Everyone was smart enough to bring water to class, but I had a peanut butter sandwich. Not just any peanut butter. The stick to your friend if you blow them a kiss while eating it peanut butter, which is also known as Peter Pan. Because of “the Pan” the SmartWater the size of Mexico I brought with me was gone within 10 minutes of class starting which also necessitated me leaving class an average of 12 times per hour.

So, I ran out of water and I didn’t exactly trust the water fountains. No, there was a time I walked by and there was poop in one of those fountains. I’ll get bottled water. Sometimes, I have no quarters, but, by golly, I had a single dollar and 4 quarters. On break, a scheduled one, not a Smartwater necessitated one, I grabbed a water and threw the quarters in my pocket.

Later, as I was thinking about the “England!” incident with A.J. and the quarter question at trivia, I pulled the remaining quarters out of my pocket and examined them closely. One was from 2006 and had nothing that made it different than any other quarter. Another from 2005 was the same. However, the third was an old style quarter with the eagle on the back. This one I examined more closely. The edges were worn smooth and George Washington’s hair had no definition. The year was 1966.

1966. Long before I was born. How many hands held this quarter? How many pockets? How many wallets? Had anyone famous held this quarter? Infamous? How many children bought something special with this quarter? Had it been in piggy banks? Jars for saving? Retirement funds? How many cans of soda had this quarter bought for someone as thirsty as I was? That quarter has been around through so many historical events, just traveling the world. Or has it been sitting in someone’s home collecting dust until someone cleaned out a carpet or a couch? Was it in a landfill?

The one thing I know is this: That rough edged quarter has seen more life than I ever will.

I slowly put it back in my pocket and wondered where it will go when it leaves my hands.

This one’s for the dorks

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . November 4, 2009 . 10:26AM

I’m a dork.

Full-fledged geek extraordinaire.

I’m ok with it and I’m not sure why others aren’t, especially when I’ve embraced this aspect of myself. Is it no longer cool to go with the self-acceptance? Dork has such a negative connotation, but there is something to be said for people that are eccentric, quirky or don’t go with the flow. We tend to stand out. Some may say that it’s not in a positive way, but I don’t think that the way I am presents itself in a bad manner.

Last week, I was in class and one of my friends was talking to another cohort about the highlights she’s had all semester. She has spent a lot of time on her outer beauty this semester and I’ve really noticed. She’s beautiful. I don’t swing that way, but if I did, I’d give her a second glance. She’s a precious, sweet, amazing, funny woman and I think that she is special. She’d commented that it took almost the entire semester for this other person in the cohort to notice that she’d had her hair done. I made the comment that I’d noticed and that I’d “been digging on her all semester.”

Not only did she smile, but she came over to me, hugged me tightly and then she and another girl made me an “Oreo sandwich.” Apparently, this is where two amazingly precious African American sweethearts hug a confused Caucasian girl and make her the cream filling. Needless to say, there were some interesting comments about what I said, but I shrug them off. I’m an equal opportunity flirt and this girl deserved what I said. Yes, it took cajones to say it, but it’s part of being quirky: You say things that others might not and it changes the outlook of the group, one way or another. She needed to hear that she is adored and accepted. I met the need and was rewarded by her, kindly.

It’s part of being a friend.

I sing in the car. Loudly. With hand gestures. Cars around me either laugh and point or join along.

I wear my heart on my sleeve and it gets me into trouble more often than not. I get hurt a lot. It’s who I am.

I will eat chicken pot pie 4 days in a row and then convince my twitter friends, they should, too. Don’t lie. You know you ate the pot pie.

I laugh at fart jokes. I tell them in public.

I’m the girl who doesn’t wear the camisole under her shirt and doesn’t realize she’s flashed people until after the fact. It wasn’t that I was trying, I just didn’t realize the shirt went down that far. It didn’t occur to me. I’m glad you enjoyed the show. They ARE beautiful.

I rarely spend more than 5 minutes on my makeup and if my hair takes more than 10, I leave it where it’s at.

I wear sneakers most every day. Screw dress up shoes.

I’m a jeans and t-shirt girl.

My perfume smells like lemons. Not a girlie smell, a CLEAN smell.

I hate to cook and clean.

I literally just played rock, paper, scissors with a presenter while the professor took over her presentation and we got bored.

I make inappropriate jokes. All the time. At the wrong times. In company where it’s wholly inappropriate.

I named my car “Betty” because anything I spend that much time with deserves to have a name.

I make fun of my education. I have to. 22 years of education makes me a nerd, along with being a geek and a dork. Yes, it also makes me smart. I’m proud of it, but not so proud that I have to make you feel stupid. I may be stupid for sitting my butt in desks made for a 7th grader for so long. We can all be happy about our education.

I wear braids, pigtails and buns. I go out in public like this. I think I look cute.

I wear the friendship bracelets my 13-year old sister made me with pride. I’ll wear them until they wear out. If you don’t like them, don’t look at them.

I want people to be my friend. Including my professors and people that may not necessarily want to be friends with someone as free with their words as I am. I have no problem joking and cajoling until people give in and become my friend. I can be charming when I want to be. Not in the typical manner. I will run up to people and invade their personal space by hugging them before they know me. Sorry about that.

I’ve done the time warp.

I’ve made, worn and given out warm fuzzies.

Butterfly and eskimo kisses are my favorite to give and receive.

I spend way too much time on my computer, but I do it because I miss the people I’ve met on here when I don’t.

I text more often than I should.

When I have my sunroof open, I feel invincible.

How are you a proud dork?

Mary Poppins would hate me

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . October 19, 2009 . 10:33AM

For most places in the South, I think this summer and fall have been the rainiest we’ve seen in a long time. Besides my ire at nobody knowing how to drive in the rain, it has necessitated some other factors. It means I can’t carry some of my favorite bags, because rain splatter isn’t in fashion. I’ve been relegated to sneakers instead of my standard flip flops much earlier this year. And I’ve been forced to carry my trusty Gustbuster umbrella with me everywhere.

However, there is a problem. I lose things on a regular basis. This is my 2nd gustbuster and my 4th umbrella in 2 years. It doesn’t matter if it’s an umbrella I grabbed as a cheapie at Wal-mart on a rainy day or an expensive Gustbuster that I adore. Chances are, someone is going to walk off with a new umbrella when I’m around.

I’m not this forgetful with anything else in my life. I’ve managed to keep a multitude of planners, every cell phone I’ve ever had, and an 8-year old boy without losing any of them permanently.

Umbrellas are elusive, sneaky little bastards.

I get rained on alot.

The good news is that the people at my school and in my office building are in the money. I have single handedly supplied them with rain gear for the next several months.

You’re welcome.