Grievance

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

CALLING ALL ADULTS

Dear Adults,

First and foremost, I would like to express my congratulations to all of you who have made it to adulthood.

Now, I'm not one to tell people how to spend their lives, so I'm merely putting forth suggestions. Take them as you will, but all I ask is that you at least give a bit of consideration to what I have to say.

As adults we receive special privileges. These include the legal purchase and consumption of alcohol, the right to vote, and most specifically for the intentions of this post--the right to use adult bathrooms. With this right you get to use a toilet that is the correct height for adults, sometimes fancy soaps, and most importantly, privacy!

It has become increasingly clearer to me through the years that when adults reach the point that they are allowed private, adult-sized bathrooms (generally falling somewhere between the first and third grade) they are not receiving information about how to properly, and respectfully take care of them. I think that it would be best if I just put some information out there to aid people in their bathroom decision-making.

1) If you get pee on the seat, clean it up!
2) Learn how to control your urine so that it does not end up on the seat in the first place.
3) If the toilet doesn't flush on the first try--try, try again!
4) I think that it would be noble of me to suggest not writing on the walls of the stall, but I actually thoroughly enjoy reading those, so keep that up.
5) Sanitary napkins go in the trash, not the floor.

I hope that this was helpful, because I know that there is no actual course on bathroom etiquette. And please don't take this personally, because I honestly have nothing against your urine unless I'm the one that has to remove it from the toilet seat.

Best,

Jess

The Commuter Rail

There is no greater cathardic experience than that of sitting on the Commuter Rail. Not.

Currently, the only thing keeping me warm is my laptop burning my thighs, the left of which is starting to go numb.

My love for people-watching grows a bit constrained since the people around me hardly change except, of course, when they leave. There was an awkward, enormous couple gracing me with their presence not so long ago. The man was only capable of bellowing as means to communicate with his girlfriend-type person who was shoveling a bag of something orange, cheesy, and puffy-textured down her gullet. They played a little game of musical chairs that ended up in the train thrashing them from side to side on their way back down the aisle. The bellower then proclaimed, "I HATE WHEN THE DAMN TRAIN MOVES ME. BUT YOU'RE DUMB ASS HAD TO SIT IN THE FRONT." I want to attend their wedding.

Fortunately, the privacy I'm experiencing throughout the duration of the actual train ride is satisfying. This is especially in comparison with my 45 minute wait inside of North Station. I was sitting on a bench, minding my own business, reading my Theatre History notes, when who else but two homeless men sandwich me between their camouflage jackets that wreak of something rotten/smokey/dirty. One of them was doing rated R things to a cheeseburger from McDonalds. The other was putting himself into many ridiculous physical configurations in hopes of finding an adequate nap position.

The silver lining of this entry is simply that I am very fortunate not to have to make this commute every day. I would rather walk around campus, being blown by ferocious winds, slipping on ice, and stepping in puddles rendering my feet too frozen to feel.

Or maybe I could just move to California.

A Thought

Today, as I sat in Modernism taking notes on a lecture about The Cherry Orchard I had a thought. Nancy was preaching in her grandiose way about the rising lower class, and I was daydreaming about my future. I thought to myself, "What is the worst possible thing that could happen if I quit school to travel wherever I pleased?"

I figure that I could do odds jobs like dishwashing, or street performance, or selling roses on the highway. I could then use this money to just do WHATEVER.

The way I see it, money can always be earned back, but time can't. Someday I will be old and unable to move and I'll think back to the weeks where I was holed up in my room writing essays and studying for exams and wish that at the time I'd have said, "Fuck it. I'm going to the zoo."

Unfortunately, I'm too much of a scaredy to actually pursue this little dream. Not to mention, I would be deemed a failure to my family who has had me in check since the days when I was little and wouldn't leave my bed in the morning until I had announced that I was awake and waited for my mother to say, "Ok, Jess... Well, you can get out of bed..."

I suppose I'll just wait for the day that someone delivers me an envelope filled with millions of dollars and the keys to my very own airplane.

In the meantime, I shall sit here and write essays, and study, and choreograph, and block scenes, and do all of the other now-important and later-arbitrary things that people in my life expect me to do.

Grievances

Current Grievances:

1) The middle, tough portion of pineapples.
2) Midterm week.
3) All of the things I own mysteriously piling up on their own accord around my room.
4) The fact that I don't have any luxurious vacations planned in the near future.
5) The Olympics preventing new episodes of my favorite television programming.
6) Nail Polish chips too easily.
7) How little I know about World geography.