tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-148344322012-01-26T16:36:22.778-05:00From the little bumps in the road (like learning to sweat like a lady) to the gaping potholes (of a sick parent), life goes on...I think.Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.comBlogger4541100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-20770612566195493052012-01-25T23:55:00.000-05:002012-01-26T00:01:11.339-05:00

For most of 2011, my brow was crinkled as I navigated my way through both professional and personal challenges.“PJ, relax your face,” my mom said from the back seats.I was driving my parents to the airport after a brief visit north in early December. It was seven o’clock in the morning and from the rear of the car, from the small sliver of mirror I glance at when switching lanes, my mother could

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-10026501209823331102012-01-17T00:00:00.005-05:002012-01-17T00:06:19.717-05:00

My parents met over a pair of ski gloves. Knowing this, it should come as no surprise that Snoopy skis were strapped to my feet as soon as I could walk. Every Friday after school let out, we piled into my dad’s Audi and headed for Elk Mountain. We either stayed with friends or bunked at a hotel. With the exception of eating, the entire weekend was dedicated to skiing. It took the progression

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-22848815591383439182012-01-09T12:00:00.002-05:002012-01-09T12:00:00.965-05:00

“I’m not sure I could date a fifty-year-old,” a friend noted when I mentioned the latest eHarmony prospect.I understood what she was saying. Fifty does sound old. Though, to this day, I totally crush over Robert Redford and that man is now seventy-five. By the way, I sat next to his daughter at a friend’s wedding and I’m pretty sure, based on what I said, I’ll never get within a hundred miles

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-53421970495710274652012-01-04T20:00:00.001-05:002012-01-04T20:04:45.488-05:00

Last fall I was talking with a guy friend about dating and relationships."I know this will sound utterly pathetic but all I want is to feel loved," I confessed."That isn't pathetic at all," he replied.There was comfort in his answer, warmth in his words.A few years ago, as I worked through my childhood trauma with a therapist, I considered reaching out to an older cousin. I had finally accepted

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-87705131568741205852011-12-22T17:00:00.002-05:002011-12-23T17:28:20.451-05:00

Last Thursday night, after a long day at the office, I made my way to the airport and grabbed a Los Angeles bound flight. A close friend from college was in the midst of a crisis. And though work was in overdrive and I had plenty of holiday-related tasks to tend to, off I went for a quick 3-day visit.Los Angeles has always felt like a foreign land to me. My sense of direction is off and I’m

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-77988966554787474092011-12-21T15:30:00.002-05:002011-12-21T16:11:38.027-05:00

My office is small. As in, a total of four people are employed there on a regular basis: me, the boss, Jane and Dave. When my dad is in town, the headcount grows to a whopping five.In previous years, with my father at the helm, a holiday luncheon of some sort occurred. He'd email everyone and suggest a few dates. Sometimes we headed out to a local restaurant. Mostly we got takeout and

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-88942190230022556942011-12-13T16:30:00.001-05:002011-12-13T16:30:00.270-05:00

I’ve known since July that I needed to find a new job. That my boss withheld my monthly commissions for the first half of the year was one hint. Him suggesting I go on COBRA immediately if I was potentially considering a relocation to Atlanta was another. Ignoring the fact that his COBRA proposal was both preposterous and illegal, the overall tone of the office has also become somber and sad.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-82670714343625280642011-12-09T01:30:00.001-05:002011-12-09T01:35:09.727-05:00

I Spent Most of Monday Feeling Myself UpAt around ten o'clock Monday morning, seated at my desk and working through the pile that managed to grow in my absence, I realized there was a scratchy pinchy sensation in my left armpit. I squirmed. I tightened my arm against my side and attempted to adjust whatever it was that was irritating me."The under-wire has popped out of my bra," I told a

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-60112122564429818702011-12-01T12:30:00.002-05:002011-12-04T01:10:19.157-05:00

For the last few years, there has been some uproar about the way magazines and advertisers digitally alter photographs. The argument is that it presents a false sense of beauty that both girls and women can’t achieve. Jezebel, a pop-culture website, every so often posts a photoshop-of-horrors, the picture depicting a missing arm or a knee so small it couldn’t technically balance the weight of a

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-85869981032754867882011-11-22T10:30:00.000-05:002011-11-22T10:30:02.951-05:00

I’m thankful for the guy at the gym who wipes down the machines. No matter how much I or anyone else attempts to remove our splattered filth, he does it much better. Twice I’ve tried to relay my appreciation but he always just looks at me like I’m crazy. Though considering I sweat so much my shorts look like I’ve peed myself, I can understand his blank expression.I’m thankful for the families at

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-81917440323525773432011-11-17T12:30:00.001-05:002011-11-17T12:32:13.664-05:00

Back in the mid-nineties, I spent two summers living with Leslie in Atlanta. We shared her one-bedroom apartment in Buckhead, right down to sharing her full-sized bed bedecked with Laura Ashley sheets. In the mornings we set off to our respective jobs. And in the evenings, we sat down to eat spaghetti dinners at her lopsided coffee table while watching reruns of Wings. By the way, I dedicated

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-81787945057392297722011-11-15T00:30:00.002-05:002011-11-22T23:09:12.458-05:00

Last week I re-upped with eHarmony. It isn’t my only outlet for flirting with the opposite sex. Since I get hit on weekly at the gym, there’s always that venue. And I go out socially a few times a week, attending concerts and gallivanting around town with a noticeably pretty crowd. No, really, not to brag but my friends know how to bring it in the looks department. My parents probably pay

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-67151140992166622062011-11-10T12:00:00.000-05:002011-11-10T12:00:02.566-05:00

Three years ago I signed on the dotted line for Gretel, my Audi A4. I admittedly had some hesitations. My father was a loyal Audi driver for decades. That there was always one window that was stuck either in the up or down position didn’t bother him. Heck, he even saw them through that sudden acceleration debacle. But the elegant lines of the new A4, the quick pep of the turbo engine, were

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-42660028854284078132011-11-08T12:30:00.001-05:002011-11-08T12:30:00.855-05:00

When I first started graduate school, I didn’t have a desk. People, I didn’t even have a dining room table. A treadmill sat in the space formally designated for food consumption. And anyway, why did I need a dining room set when I ate every meal at my sofa? My willingness to live like a homeless person ended when I realized writing while slouched on my couch tortured my back. Like it or not,

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-32079721025758516802011-10-26T19:00:00.001-04:002011-10-26T19:00:01.971-04:00

She’s CraftyThe first time I knit a hat, it was for Alaska. The fit was reminiscent of the cap Dumb Donald wore on Fat Albert. This after pulling it out twice thanks to dropped stitches and pattern misses. “If you give it to a homeless man, don’t tell me,” I requested. Earlier this month, I bravely dusted off the needles and made a hat for Anders. After I knew he had received it, I rang

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-25094853865837338212011-10-24T12:00:00.001-04:002011-10-24T12:10:59.260-04:00

After not speaking with Alaska for almost four months, we ended up on the phone. I told him I almost interviewed for a job in DC. He told me he was possibly pulling out of an upcoming marathon. We both agreed the new Feist album was too brilliant to describe with words."I miss your breasts," he then said, his voice soft like a caress."You miss my breath?" I asked."No, your breasts.""Oh, because

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-80177807080487677222011-10-17T13:30:00.001-04:002011-10-17T13:30:00.831-04:00

When I first met with my trainer, he asked what my goal was.“A less junky trunk,” I said as I pointed to my ass.“You’re trunk is great. We just need to tone it up.”“Right, you’re black. Black men love my ass. And, listen, I’ve got nothing against black men. I’d never kick Tay Diggs out of my bed. But I want less of a beacon.”We got down to business with lunges around the perimeter of the gym

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-27984893259714487672011-10-12T14:00:00.002-04:002011-10-12T15:33:26.860-04:00

It is a known fact I have an active sleep pattern. Not only do I talk in my sleep but I have a habit of getting up and moseying about. It is so bad that when installing an alarm at my childhood home, my mother intentionally kept motion sensors away from my side of the house.“Would you be opposed to wearing a bell around your ankle?” my mom asked back when I was heading off to college.“Um, yes.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-60023375534718141862011-10-07T00:09:00.004-04:002011-10-07T01:03:38.277-04:00

Earlier this year, I convinced my father he could stop paying AOL $35 every month.“But how will I get onto the internet?” he asked.“With the cable modem.” The answer totally baffled him.I am not sure if he understood my explanation but I do know he eventually surrendered to the reality that I am more knowledgeable than he is when it comes to anything with a power cord.“PJ, I sent a work email to

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-5511505426701586182011-09-27T16:30:00.001-04:002011-09-27T16:43:23.186-04:00

Deductive reasoning is a rather basic concept. Based on the facts at hand, you draw a conclusion. Juries use this when they review the evidence of a case. Animals implement it when hunting for prey. And deductive reasoning is rather helpful when navigating the security line at the airport. Families with small children, people carrying pillows, and anyone sporting a lanyard with travel

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-24910275974740191872011-09-20T20:30:00.000-04:002011-09-20T20:30:01.381-04:00

Pivotal moments of my writing life are linked to three specific people. Ex pushed me to dust off the pen and start this blog. Alaska urged me to stretch myself, thereby landing me in graduate school. And this charming, nameless guy who was nothing more than a bundle of lies inspired a short story that ultimately developed into my novel. Sure, I would have evolved as a writer without these

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-9414483581889626682011-09-15T00:00:00.001-04:002011-09-15T09:10:58.811-04:00

In just a few weeks I will be able to loosely knot a scarf around my neck and dip my chin into the folds of the fabric. I’m ready for crisp fall evenings, the night air tainted with the smell of wood burning fireplaces. And I excitedly await that moment where, upon exhaling, my warm breath hovers like a fog before drifting away in the evening sky.Then comes winter, a time of shorter days and

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-74462173565086176432011-09-07T12:00:00.003-04:002011-09-07T14:36:17.065-04:00

The summer before I graduated college, I lived in Atlanta with Leslie. At her suggestion, I secured a position with a family planning program affiliated with Emory University. Then I packed up my car and drove south for the summer.For the most part, Leslie and I got along really well. It didn’t matter that we were sharing a double bed bedecked with Laura Ashley floral sheets. It didn’t matter

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-41206947062470293392011-08-31T18:15:00.001-04:002011-08-31T18:15:00.173-04:00

I could tell you that Saturday afternoon we set out for Boulder but changed course when we stumbled upon an airshow. Old World War II planes swooped in a pattern that resembled a winged waltz. Present-day fighter jets quietly approached before disappearing into the clouds, a thunderous boom following in their wake. And as we watched the sky, as we marveled at the planes twisting and turning, he

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-77166465198271952212011-08-23T11:00:00.000-04:002011-08-23T11:00:11.904-04:00

There are some amazing aspects of a single life. I get to sleep in the middle of the bed, scissoring my legs and rolling from side to side without a care in the world. In the morning, when I rush to the bathroom to pee and I leave the door open, it doesn’t matter. It also doesn’t matter that I let out a little squeaker as I lean over the sink and brush my teeth while making funny faces. But

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-11482693989959497302011-08-16T11:00:00.000-04:002011-08-16T11:00:59.468-04:00

I never set out to become an insurance broker. My father needed part-time assistance and I needed a job. Somewhere along the way, it became a career. “I don’t know how you do this,” a new client once noted as I walked her through carrier chaos regarding submitted paperwork. “And with a smile,” she added. “You either laugh or cry. I’d rather laugh,” I said as I pointed to a section she

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-60075567499875914222011-08-09T17:00:00.001-04:002011-08-09T17:10:00.229-04:00

For the last two weeks, my mother has been nagging me and Leslie about our childhood possessions littering their home. Part of it had to do with my mom wanting to get the house on the market before the end of July. The other part of it had to do with Leslie being in from Atlanta with the kids. Here, our mom thought, here is an opportunity to get things sorted out once and for all. “I’ll be up on

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-41726565072432260532011-08-04T17:00:00.003-04:002011-08-04T20:41:23.564-04:00

The problem with technology is it’s outdated before you even plug in the power cord. Five time zones away, some geek in China has already built a larger, faster hard drive or a bigger, clearer LED television. This is why I detest buying any of it. Listen, a few years ago I dropped a few hundred dollars on a Prada purse. To this day both men and women compliment its timeless styling. Plus, it

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-40436793451292043812011-07-28T11:00:00.003-04:002011-07-28T11:45:17.622-04:00

In the midst of going about your day, the sweet smell of honeysuckles unexpectedly tickles your nose. There are train tracks to your right and a highway just beyond. Trash collects against the curb. It is the last place you would expect to close your eyes and breathe in the delicate scent of summertime. This gritty city street you've traversed a hundred times before never captivated you in this

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-35526395301628470832011-07-21T14:00:00.000-04:002011-07-21T14:00:06.924-04:00

If you haven't noticed, I don't blog with much regularity these days. And yet I can't walk away altogether. Something about this little corner of the interweb is warm and cozy, friendly and inviting.I've thought about forcing myself back into a routine of sorts. Shortly after launching Life Goes On, I Think, I set up a posting schedule. Every Tuesday and Thursday, I had to publish something. Some

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-307307682355760492011-06-20T16:00:00.003-04:002011-06-20T16:00:15.479-04:00

A year or two ago, while dabbling with eHarmony, I was matched with an Asian orphan. He was born in Japan but moved to the states sometime in his childhood. His parents passed away either before, during or immediately following college. The specifics are foggy. What I do remember is what he did for a living, the details clarified when we finally spoke on the phone.“I’m B.D. Wong’s stunt double

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-34532609332011921102011-06-17T12:30:00.001-04:002011-06-17T12:52:12.193-04:00

Around once a year I have a momentary lapse in reason and sign up for JDate. Yes, that JDate: the dating site where bald men with hairy backs hunt for Jewish women who prefer manicures to manual labor. I know, I know (hangs head in shame).Going into it, I decided to only reach out to boys in Philadelphia, DC and NYC. I included the other cities because, while the guys in Philly can be nice, I

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-51215635238618056452011-06-06T16:00:00.000-04:002011-06-06T16:00:03.963-04:00

The other day I was doing laundry and I caught my reflection in the glass panel of the front-loading washing machine. My calves and knees had exactly the shape and tone I had always aspired to have. I paused, I posed, and I admired this unexpected representation of self. Then, not believing my eyes, I moved closer and dragged my fingertips across the glass. It had to be concave or angled.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-30093032627452264852011-05-11T15:00:00.001-04:002011-05-11T15:01:34.566-04:00

I remember the butterflies fluttering in my belly when, on our very first date, you sat down next to me on the sofa in the lounge.I remember the peacefulness that blanketed us as we shared a turkey sandwich at a creaky outside table and worked on the Sunday crossword.I remember the emptiness I felt as I sat alone on the cold tile floor of our hotel bathroom and realized you meant more to me than

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-65330760904613477202011-05-05T12:15:00.002-04:002011-05-05T14:12:07.577-04:00

This past Sunday, following four months of snowbirding in Florida, my parents returned to Philadelphia. Translation: I should be a raging alcoholic by next Tuesday. No, really.Sunday 8:07PM“PJ, the computer won’t work,” my dad yelled from his upstairs office, my mother and I in their kitchen cleaning up dishes from take-out Chinese.“Well, I’m not coming up there until you get up from that damn

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-51855824493347607902011-04-29T16:00:00.001-04:002011-05-06T10:36:31.142-04:00

“My calves are huge,” Leslie, who wears a size 4, said as she shimmied her foot into a tall boot.“Oh yeah, they’re fucking enormous,” I responded from another corner of the cramped balcony housing the sale shoes. “Like, I don’t know how you lumber around with those things.”I tossed a pair of purple, patent, Tory Burch pumps back in the box and collapsed on a velvet armchair shoved under a

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-18753063827190391972011-04-19T12:30:00.000-04:002011-04-19T12:36:05.707-04:00

For the most part, I wouldn’t describe myself as a risk-taker. That isn’t to say my life lacks spontaneity. Or that I refuse to do things that might seem scary or a tad left of center. But then again, we all live by a different definition of adventure.“Wait, you go to dinner alone?” a guy once asked in disbelief.“Sure,” I answered, not grasping how reading a New Yorker while enjoying a plate

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-65377471481592273762011-04-12T12:00:00.002-04:002011-04-12T12:00:01.847-04:00

The other day I was asked why I’m still available. At first I was confused. Because the word “available” made me think of a line of customers at Marshall’s or TJ Maxx, a stream of people awaiting their turn to hear that computerized voice and directional sign announce “Register three is available.”“Wait, do you mean, like, why am I still single?” I asked as I rolled onto my side, glanced at the

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-8914486723976315752011-03-28T11:00:00.000-04:002011-03-28T11:02:53.607-04:00

For the last few years, I’ve spent a week of April in Sarasota. Leslie heads that way because her kids have spring break. And it’s hard for me to turn down an opportunity to spend seven nights sleeping on a sleep-sofa with a pillow shaped like a concrete curb. Okay, spending seven days picking seashells and eating gelato with Anders and Olivia also help in the convincing department.Last year

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-46256243084213542862011-03-18T16:42:00.002-04:002011-03-18T16:49:43.712-04:00

No, I am not here to make a wise observation about my ridiculous life. I am not here to let you know I spent my entire Friday morning with the fly of my cute pencil skirt down, flashing coworkers and strangers alike. Nor am I here to confess my fondness of the new Avril Lavigne tune, a confession that irks me to no end until I succumb to the catchy beat and sing along like an angst ridden

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-78511587265925662732011-03-15T12:30:00.001-04:002011-03-15T12:30:01.275-04:00

I bought my television thirteen years ago when I finally uprooted myself from my childhood bedroom and set out for an apartment of my very own. I immediately purchased a bed and a Peugot pepper mill. If you’re a foodie, you'll totally understand the relevance of the second item. Anyway, I eventually bought bookshelves, a television, dressers, and sofas. But I’d be remiss if I didn't credit my

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-44883075951419744692011-03-10T14:00:00.001-05:002011-03-10T14:07:47.778-05:00

They say it's like riding a bike. That once you get going, it all comes back to you. Anxiously you grip the handlebars. Reluctantly you set one foot on a pedal. And then you spend five minutes negotiating with your self-doubt about pushing off the curb already.At first you look like a drunk college kid stumbling home from an all-night kegger. If there were paint on the tires, you're pretty

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-25005859782921808152011-02-21T14:30:00.001-05:002011-02-21T14:30:01.115-05:00

“Take a chance,” you say over the background hum of a bustling bar.“After a certain point, I have to learn my lesson,” I counter as I curl onto my side and tug at a stray thread dangling off the pillowcase.“Yeah, I get that. But the past isn’t necessarily an indicator of the future.”“Uh-huh,” I tentatively offer.“I love you.” The sentiment feels like the period to a run-on sentence spanning four

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-43910428287805757572011-02-09T15:15:00.000-05:002011-02-09T15:15:00.270-05:00

They say you should live in the moment. Appreciate what is occurring now. The past and the future are relevant but it is the present that you should savor and embrace.My friend Jen had a baby six months ago and last week I finally got over to her house to meet the tot. Juliet is this potato sack of a baby with delicate features and thick chocolate locks often tacked back with a small barrette.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-91908878604782274132011-02-07T13:00:00.000-05:002011-02-07T13:02:24.708-05:00

Monday NightI adjust the phone against my ear. Did he just say he can appreciate Chopin and Marilyn Manson? I’m not sure if I should be impressed or concerned. Chopin would surely be concerned. More importantly, has Marilyn Manson released anything since 1998? I’ll ask him that, but in a nicer, less judgey kind of way. No, I can do this.“So I’m not really well versed in Manson’s work,

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-8292127629306487812011-01-14T17:15:00.000-05:002011-01-14T17:16:51.698-05:00

It’s like taking a small slurp of steeping tea to see if the temperature is too hot. It’s like standing on the edge of the pool and skimming your toe across the surface to see if the temperature is too cold. Simply put, sometimes you feel like testing the waters.Lying in bed, the moonlight casting shadows across the ceiling, I reached for my phone and sent Alaska an email. It was a few days

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-4099822762010551222011-01-06T01:00:00.000-05:002011-01-06T01:00:05.596-05:00

Seventh grade was a busy year. Besides the regular school day, I was required to play afternoon sports. Also, my parents had me enrolled in a conservative Hebrew School. I'm pointing out the degree of religious faith because it means something. Conservative synagogues require greater participation. From four o'clock to six o'clock on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I was at the synagogue learning.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-6217010957348377212010-11-24T23:20:00.001-05:002010-11-24T23:22:47.921-05:00

I’m thankful for the smell of wood-burning fireplaces on crisp fall nights, the dark blue sky illuminated by nothing more than the glowing moon and glistening stars. When I exhale, my breath hovers like a cloud before fading into the evening air.I’m thankful for crunchy peanut-butter, the kind with a slick layer of oil floating across the top. Delicate effort, a gentle twist of the wrist,

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-71890012287696045492010-10-22T17:30:00.001-04:002010-10-22T17:32:06.231-04:00

Most people in the publishing world scoff at blogging. To them, anyone can blog. Translation: the entire community lacks talent. The single positive thing publishers see in a blog is a built-in audience. Think Tucker Max and Stephanie Klein, two bloggers who received book offers based solely on their blogs. Anyway, this shortsighted view about blogging probably explains why the publishing

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-88280015388031423342010-10-05T16:00:00.004-04:002011-02-25T17:38:52.593-05:00

Standing in the check-out line, clutching a carton of grapefruit juice, a dozen large brown eggs and an apple, you recall that time he took a bite of the Golden Delicious you had packed as mid-flight sustenance. It was meant to tie you over while relocating to the left coast for a weekend together. But sprawled out atop the hotel bed, you plucked the apple from your tote and tossed it in his

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-77192627773473764212010-09-27T12:00:00.001-04:002010-09-27T12:08:33.968-04:00

Open eyes and look at clock. Curse beating alarm by one hour and seventeen minutes. Realize have time to go to gym. Turn gaze to window. Observe hazy clouds. Listen for rain. Decide inclement weather is justifiable reason to skip gym. Vow to get up anyway. Turn off alarm. Fall back asleep.Awake sixteen minutes before supposed to be at office. Throw back sheets. Check emails on phone.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-4549889659595699152010-09-22T11:00:00.001-04:002010-09-22T11:01:12.101-04:00

Sometimes, no matter how rationally my brain interprets a situation, my body responds otherwise. I can have a mountain of evidence dictating logic and reason and yet my stomach twists with knots or perhaps a sense of calm blankets me. Both the good and the bad render me useless. Which has led me to conclude that my body overriding my mind represents the purest, most honest response to a

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-80420421424551568732010-09-11T23:59:00.002-04:002010-09-12T00:30:11.801-04:00

I've never lived in New York City, though I have spent quite a bit of time exploring its landscape. When I was younger, my mother planned numerous weekends where Leslie and I were shuttled from the Met to a play, Bloomingdales to Carnegie Deli. And once I finished college, I spent even more time in the city. Caralyn and Allison both lived uptown, as did a boy I dated for around a year. It

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-8325097084174530972010-08-25T00:01:00.001-04:002010-08-25T00:01:03.313-04:00

Around a year ago, I started shopping for a therapist.“I think I suffer from body dysmorphic disorder,” I announced to the man on the other end of the line, a man who came recommended from another professional.“That’s very difficult to overcome.”“Uh, yeah, I know that because I’ve been living with it for thirty years.”Needless to say, I didn’t bother scheduling an appointment. The last thing I

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-23440139044546798112010-07-30T12:40:00.002-04:002010-07-30T12:40:00.575-04:00

By the time I graduated high school, I had stayed at the Four Seasons Maui, the Biltmore in Scottsdale, the Hamilton Princess in Bermuda and the Breakers in Palm Beach, all courtesy of insurance companies rewarding my father. Settling into the high life, my parents continued the indulgent theme on family vacations. From the Ritz Carlton in Manhattan to the Harbor House on Nantucket, I traveled

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-60537024910777341942010-07-08T17:30:00.001-04:002010-07-08T17:30:01.159-04:00

August marks my twelve year anniversary working with my dad. October marks my fifteen year anniversary folding t-shirts at Banana Republic. And for the last eleven years, I’ve resided in the same town. It’s fair to say I’m a creature of habit.“Oh, this is for you,” the volunteer coordinator of the Philadelphia Ronald McDonald House said when I plopped down in a chair at the front desk and

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-43346363032500662722010-06-16T16:46:00.003-04:002010-06-16T17:21:28.284-04:00

Listen, I’m not one to ever ask why me. Whether I’m being rear-ended in New Jersey or losing the Mega-Millions drawing after going out of my way to buy a ticket in an area where dental care is irrelevant, I accept my fate and move on. But every so often, I see a woman and ponder how it is she’s living my life. There’s the former third-grade classmate who now works for a major network as VP of

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-40819481451241251122010-06-09T12:30:00.000-04:002010-06-09T12:30:00.666-04:00

Stay Inside the LinesBoth lip liner and eyebrow pencil confuse the heck out of me. Just looking at them makes my stomach churn and my armpits moisten. One makes me think of clowns and the other drums up images of Cruella de Ville. But thanks to me never learning the lesson that trying to shape my eyebrows with a pair of desk scissors is always a bad idea, I’m attempting to use the latter.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-72103774955690350942010-05-19T12:00:00.000-04:002010-05-19T12:00:04.360-04:00

Dear Greece:In fourth grade, I had to sew myself a kiton and compete in my school’s annual Greek Olympics. When I placed first in the 50-yard dash, an ivy wreath was placed atop my head, thereby making the win that much more awesome. I have yet to understand the appeal of your mythology but I’m willing to forgive you for that torture in light of your tasty baklava. Anyway, now that you’ve

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-60826228463426973452010-05-14T14:30:00.001-04:002010-05-14T14:30:00.857-04:00

“Dad, why do you still have AOL?” I ask as we are led through the restaurant.“Yeah, Gene, why?” my mother chimes. I ignore her snarky tone, figuring it’s Mother’s Day and she’s allowed to pretty much get away with anything.He shrugs. We all take our seats.“And it costs $40 a month!” my mother adds.“Forty?” I ask, dropping the menu back on the table.“Actually, I think it’s twenty,” he proudly

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-5750606109577460362010-04-28T17:02:00.000-04:002010-04-28T17:04:24.599-04:00

My therapist grabs her pad, retrieves my file, sits down in the armchair positioned by a side table. I flop onto the sofa and watch her open a bottle of something organic and healthy.“I feel stuck,” I blurt out, unsure if my fifty-minute session has officially started.“How?”I start listing the obstacles before me. School finishes in July and I see it as a reason to transition professionally,

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-39400810306790387442010-04-16T12:50:00.000-04:002010-04-16T12:51:30.527-04:00

Last week, I sent my mentor two chapters for my novel. Shortly after clicking send, I realized all of the ways I could have improved both. My stomach tightened, my palms became moist. To manage the stress of this realization, I ordered not a small but a medium serving of bacio gelato.On Wednesday, after working out, I ran into the city to meet Erika for dinner. We were both starving. And we

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-37357856553337473502010-04-14T12:40:00.000-04:002010-04-14T12:40:41.611-04:00

“I’m not really interested in boys these days,” I say to my therapist as I settle in on her sofa, returning for a session after an eight month hiatus.“Paige, let’s say you go in the ocean and are attacked by a shark. And then the next time you go for a dip, the same thing happens. What’s the likelihood you wouldn’t develop some fear of the ocean?”“I’d stick to pools,” I answer. “Well, your last

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-35645192927487377122010-04-02T16:45:00.001-04:002010-04-19T16:54:06.956-04:00

A few weeks ago, I was invited to my cousin's house for Passover. Though she shooed away my first attempt to bring something, I persisted. I know how stressful it is to cook for a large group of people. I'm also half Italian and all Jewish, meaning I don't take no for an answer."Well, what do you want to bring?" she asked."Potatoes!"Yeah, I have no idea where that answer came from. And when I

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-87434008376779304502010-03-26T16:57:00.004-04:002010-03-26T17:09:36.777-04:00

Yesterday was pleasantly mild, perfect weather to end the day in NoLibs with a friend and pint of Yards.Today my coworkers have indulged me with a pre-birthday celebration. I had a soft pretzel for breakfast and a cupcake for lunch. I have also been excitedly eying the Starbuck's giftcard mini herb kit they gave me. Tomorrow I'll hunker down and try and finish the rest of the submission I will

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-5157202871612345982010-03-19T14:15:00.000-04:002010-03-19T14:22:33.615-04:00

In Philadelphia, the sun is shining and the day lilies are just starting to push through the mulch. Every morning, when I pull into my parking space at the office, I smile at the little green nubs fighting their way toward the sky. And save for a few tiny piles at the mall, the snow is completely gone.With spring finally upon us, there are so many things we can do. Suggestions include:(1) Step

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-55991544123529345112010-03-12T10:30:00.000-05:002010-03-12T10:31:03.848-05:00

After my father’s morning activities are done, the three of us return to his room. The staff has already made up his bed and tidied the things around the sink. My mother calls my dad’s Philadelphia neurologist to request his paperwork and previous MRIs. I ring the office and get the FedEx code so everything can be overnighted. My father sits in his wheelchair working on a Sudoku puzzle,

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-18381150375434823872010-03-11T16:30:00.001-05:002010-03-11T16:46:39.530-05:00

A week after my father fell, he started complaining of headaches. It was so bad that for two days he couldn’t sleep lying down.“Of course the man has a headache!” I said to my mother when she rang me from the rehab hospital. “Slamming your skull against the pavement can do that to you.”All kidding aside, when someone suffers brain trauma, headaches are a bad sign. They’re especially concerning

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-22397445302204567382010-03-05T15:30:00.001-05:002010-03-05T15:31:39.600-05:00

In a perfect world:(1) I would have a faster metabolism, thereby leaving me with leaner thighs and thinner hips. You know, like those surfer bitches in the recent Athleta catalog (she says as she shoves a fistful of Thin Mints in her mouth). (2) A twitch of my nose would immediately relocate me somewhere else, like Florida to visit my dad or Paris to poke around the Musee D'Orsay before stopping

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-12777087328226946842010-03-03T16:45:00.001-05:002010-03-03T16:46:46.954-05:00

My father has fallen before. One time, when he was home alone, he opened the bathroom window and tripped the alarm. In an attempt to get from the sink to the keypad to turn it off, he toppled. There were only seconds to spare and four feet to cross. He stretched his cane farther than he should have, it couldn’t hold his weight and down he went.Another time he caught his toe. At the base of

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-65666451887415050952010-02-25T16:00:00.001-05:002010-02-25T16:08:20.507-05:00

Five years ago, when I moved from my then-apartment to my now-condo, my sofa was damaged. The movers ran a long strap around the seat area to keep the sleeper frame from opening. I’m guessing this is what caused the problem. Because a month or so after settling in, things went awry.“Why are your knees in your chin?” I asked Ex who was sitting on the sofa with his computer balancing on his lap.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-49858956107143782902010-02-19T12:54:00.004-05:002010-02-19T13:04:19.386-05:00

Things that you might find entertaining:(1) Watching Tiger Woods hold a press conference where the press is not permitted to ask questions. So you're really invited to witness a monologue where members of the press have been invited to observe.(2) Seeing the pretty-boy American male skater donning feathers beat the villainous Russian male skater who appears to have been attacked by a Bedazzler.(

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-22518621068036467122010-02-17T16:44:00.000-05:002010-02-17T16:44:42.053-05:00

Dear Vera Wang:Because the feathers, sequins, black mesh and fur weren’t enough, you had to add lady-gloves and ruffles? That outfit you designed for Lysacek’s short program looked like something a Texas pageant queen would don while doing her baton twirling act for the talent portion of the competition. The only thing he was missing was a tiara. This is the Olympics, not RuPaul’s Drag Race.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-28957551909947410492010-02-10T19:00:00.001-05:002010-02-10T19:00:00.597-05:00

I go through phases where I’m obsessed with some specific thing or some aspect of my life. Then after a period, when the novelty has worn off, I search for a replacement.In November, I was addicted to Clementines. Over a few days, while sitting at my desk, I worked my way through a crate. My fingertips smelled like orange. A collection of discarded peels piled up in my trashcan. By the end of

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-55386760690136919432010-02-03T22:00:00.002-05:002010-02-03T22:03:45.050-05:00

Over Christmas, the entire family collected in Sarasota.“What are you doing?” Leslie asked from one of the two leather sofas in the great room.“Setting up mom and dad’s new stereo,” I answered as I wrangled various wires and evaluated how to thread them through microscopic holes conveniently located behind an enormous television.“Hey, the light just turned on,” my mom said from the kitchen,

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-50013127117373130082010-01-29T03:30:00.000-05:002010-01-29T03:30:02.461-05:00

While up at school earlier this month, partaking in the semiannual residency, three of us decided to collaborate and start a blog about writing. As we drove back from dinner, the car cresting and dipping on a winding road, we pondered blog names."How about Three Dolls Write? You know, like Three Dog Night," I say as I ease up on the accelerator and squint against approaching headlights."Yeah, I

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-86458821566702021322010-01-26T10:15:00.001-05:002010-01-26T10:25:36.542-05:00

Mamma Needs Her XanaxI recently spent ten days up at school in Maine. Upon my return, I awoke in the mornings confused and panicked about who I was and what I did for a living. It was like I had amnesia. And because I live alone, I had no one there to smack me across the face. Seriously, even my condo felt foreign as I scanned the nightstand for something to bring me back.For what felt like

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-89802086318940119762010-01-19T10:30:00.002-05:002010-01-19T11:51:57.771-05:00

A tennis court is defined by crisp white lines. You slice the ball cross-court. You send it down the line. No matter what you do, you need to keep it within the designated boundary. Wallop it too hard, and you lose the point.In girl's lacrosse, there are no boundaries. I remember being baffled by this the first time I heard the rule."Wait, so I can run up over to the soccer fields?" I asked,

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-53969598808490680582010-01-04T00:01:00.001-05:002010-01-04T00:24:30.345-05:00

(1) Set your shopping cart to the side. And one corner touching the side, thereby turning the aisle into a cul de sac, doesn't count. My choice is to either send your cart rolling toward the produce section or dribble copious amounts of creamy Chicken Corn Chowder across your eco-friendly, animal-friendly vegan sac you call a purse. It's really up to you, love.(2) Memorize the liquid rules.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-68385998564903293272009-12-22T13:00:00.002-05:002009-12-22T23:37:57.426-05:00

In fourth grade, my mom decided I was old enough to start playing an instrument. Or at least an instrument that sounded more appealing than the plastic recorder I screeched music from, the mouthpiece stuck at an awkward angle because I jammed it too hard, too fast.“So, PJ, what do you want to play?”“The harp!” I excitedly exclaimed.“No way, pick again.”“Piano!” I sang as I drifted off on dreams

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-33262589218826009572009-12-21T12:00:00.001-05:002009-12-21T12:00:02.245-05:00

My weekend was supposed to involve a delicious dinner in a neighborhood adorned with holly berry and fir wreaths. I was to stroll cobblestone streets until I reached a friend’s house where I’d sip homemade eggnog and dance to tunes played by a quartet crammed into the corner. I was to partake in holiday chatter and bursts of hysterical laughter, surrounded by friends and strangers. But as the

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-24052892431418446112009-12-17T13:00:00.001-05:002009-12-17T13:00:01.759-05:00

Earlier this week, I ended something before it began. My therapist would be so proud, if only I was still seeing her.He lives in San Francisco but was heading to New Jersey for the holidays. I’ve done San Francisco. And as many of you know, I’ve also done Alaska. So I guess you could say distance has never been an obstacle for me. But suddenly it made my stomach tighten like a piece of

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-31545600140373358822009-12-09T13:00:00.001-05:002009-12-09T13:01:54.932-05:00

“I have a date tonight,” I grumble into the phone, curled on my side, tucked beneath a fleece throw.“Good for you,” Leslie cheers as she rinses a dish. In the background, over the trickling water, I hear Olivia and Anders giggling.“He’s from Iowa.”“Paige, can’t you find someone local for once?”“No, he lives in Philadelphia. He grew up in Iowa.”“Ooh, even better. Those corn-fed boys tend to be

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-10475509617631247382009-12-01T12:00:00.001-05:002009-12-01T12:00:01.480-05:00

Applying to colleges, Leslie and I were given exactly one rule. Unless we got into Stanford, we weren’t allowed to go west of the Mississippi. Leslie headed south for Emory and there she stayed, planting roots and settling in Atlanta. I headed to New England for Smith. Post-graduation I had two offers in Boston but I turned both down because returning to Philadelphia made the most sense, fiscally

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-41991678213833143192009-11-23T02:00:00.002-05:002009-11-23T02:00:05.939-05:00

There was something mysterious about you, a curiosity that blossomed into more of a concern when you showed me the Glock under your pillow and the roll of six thousand dollars in your dresser drawer. Then there was that time you explained how you kept blank paper from every year, in case you needed to backdate a document and said document would be verified by a court. That we were both enrolled

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-19443256870093342412009-11-13T16:00:00.001-05:002009-11-13T16:09:28.474-05:00

When parking the car, leave enough room on the passenger side so he can place one foot on the roadway. Too close and he teeters on the uneven edge of the curb. It’s difficult enough with his uncertain balance. When setting the table, give him a salad fork. His wrist is stiff, his shoulder tight, and angling both is a challenge. Larger tines of a dinner fork guarantee that at least half of the

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-42054258011312115402009-11-03T00:00:00.006-05:002009-11-07T16:06:20.353-05:00

Reserved tables dot the perimeter of the dance floor, thin slats of polished wood. Everything is foreign: the song, the club, the city. Even the man I am with is unfamiliar. I observe the way he leans on the bar when he orders our drinks. I study his fingers (lean), his posture (straight). When he speaks, I listen for hints to his accent, a hybrid of inflection and tone. I rule out South

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-69613018135047233842009-10-26T15:00:00.000-04:002009-10-26T15:05:42.711-04:00

It Sounded So Much Better In My HeadI’m horizontal on my sofa, head propped on a pillow and legs tucked under a throw. The Phillies are playing the Dodgers and the commentator’s analyzing the data flashing across the bottom of the screen. A glass of red wine sits on the coffee table. A tattoo of my lips, Laura Mercier Peony, stains the rim of the glass. Just beyond is a bowl of fresh made

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-20470779225236788022009-10-21T12:00:00.002-04:002009-10-21T12:00:03.627-04:00

"So listen, the instructor will call you out during class. Like if your position is wrong, she'll say something," Maya noted as she shifted the car into reverse."Fantastic," I said as I clipped my seat belt."Oh, and your legs will probably shake when you do the exercises. It'll feel like they're going to give out.""Wow, it's like law school and a Chinese prison got it on and Bar Method is the

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-56941977769139189492009-10-15T19:00:00.001-04:002009-10-15T19:00:02.855-04:00

“Man, that crane falling in town was nuts,” my friend said as I rifled through my purse for a piece of gum.“What crane?” I asked.“Um, the one that fell off the roof of a building. It was at 21st and Walnut.”“Oh, well that explains the helicopters hovering over the city. I just assumed it was for an accident on the expressway. But hey, Ron Howard helped the Phillies win!”“Ryan Howard. Ron

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-59360082108962570872009-10-07T20:00:00.002-04:002009-10-07T20:00:01.153-04:00

My dad’s been sick for so long, it’s normal. I can’t recall how he walked before he became dependent on a cane, reliant on a walker. Though the sound of his voice hasn’t changed, I don’t remember how he spoke before the slurring and stuttering. Some days I think he sounds clearer. The words are more enunciated. Other days he has to repeat a himself three times before I can figure it out.“You’

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-57823333476111381952009-10-01T18:00:00.002-04:002009-10-01T21:03:53.498-04:00

"So how was your date with Saddam?" Leslie asked when I answered the phone, her car idling in the carpool line."His name is Sandeep," I corrected."Whatever.""Sure, whatever. One's Iraqi and killed a lot of people and the other is Indian and socially retarded. I can see how you'd get the two confused.""Are you going to tell me or not?"So I started sharing the details, telling her about the other

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-27591889111573848562009-09-28T01:00:00.001-04:002009-09-28T01:00:01.767-04:00

With my dance card empty and all previous prospects properly put to rest, I recently decided to revisit the dating world. The thing is, I've never really liked this part of the relationship process. Which might explain my continued recycling of Alaska. I prefer the comfort of the known to the supposed excitement of the unknown.For me, the dating process feels like an interview. I pay closer

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-80760145480265431062009-09-25T01:00:00.001-04:002009-09-25T01:18:43.596-04:00

Since the start of summer, I’ve been cleaning house. My bookshelves have more open space now that I've donated half of the stash to my local library. After burning any worthwhile CDs in my collection, I sold them online. For whatever reason, the time has come for me to rid myself of the items I've outgrown, things that occupy space without purpose.“But those are cute,” my friend says from my

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-33918286651139471252009-09-16T16:50:00.004-04:002009-09-16T17:45:25.382-04:00

When I started blogging, I did so with the sole intention of using this space to dust off the pen. Like second grade, I gave myself homework. Every week I was to publish two personal essays. It didn't matter if I was up to my eyeballs with clients are or in a downward spiral of depression. Life be damned, it was my job to write.A few years in, content with my momentum and developing style, I

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-59830100222809647902009-09-14T12:30:00.001-04:002009-09-14T12:41:48.706-04:00

"You know those 5 Slim pants you bought for Olivia?" Leslie asked, her question crackly from a bad connection."Yeah, the Gap ones," I answered as I clicked send on an email and reached for another file."They don't fit.""What? They fit in late July.""Right, well she's grown. Or maybe I should stop baking banana bread? All I know is yesterday I had her try everything on again and for the life of

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-67447842953894913352009-09-09T01:00:00.001-04:002009-09-09T01:06:35.300-04:00

Dear Mosquito,Listen, today was pretty rough. I mean, you know it's bad when you tell a potential client to kiss off. So when I got home, I poured some wine, made a salad and sat down to work on the crossword. That's when you buzzed by. Wanting to cleanse myself of toxic anger and frustration, I let you live. But it seems, in addition to giving you life, I gave you two pints of blood.

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-40440446272897706692009-09-01T17:00:00.002-04:002009-09-01T17:03:07.147-04:00

I kick off my shoes and tuck my legs under me. My keys sit on the floor next to my phone, face down. The air conditioner hums as my therapist takes her seat, resting papers on her lap and a pen on the table.“So how are you doing?” She adjusts the pillow behind her back.“I don’t think I need to come back any more,” I blurt out, like I had been holding my breath.“Okay,” my therapist answers, her

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-85493728613299882402009-08-17T17:30:00.004-04:002009-08-19T12:00:23.255-04:00

My dad needs a walker to get around. And if the distance spans farther than ten yards, he needs his scooter. His balance is horrible and I'm pretty sure he can't lift his arms above his head. It's a shitty situation with one silver lining - he has a pass when it comes to helping out around the house. So it came as no surprise when my mother asked me to stop by to help her hang some art she

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14834432.post-70195045492131509982009-08-03T12:00:00.002-04:002009-08-03T13:22:57.773-04:00

I stand at the top of the steps that lead to the office copier, filing cabinets and supply closet. My toes creep closer to the edge. My left hand grips the railing, fingers curled tight around the polished wood bar. I press my right palm flat against the wall. Eyes cast down, I observe the two steps I’m about to conquer. Deep breaths fill my lungs as I mentally prepare.A coworker scanning

Paige Jenniferhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06291247610038922542noreply@blogger.com9