4.21.07

I return to this blog like it’s a cold toilet seat. You have to sit right down, dive right in. As familiar as the seat may be, you know the look is different than the feel. There’s no easing onto it. The same goes when entering the pool in this new season of pretend warmth. We get hot days, but lo and behold, below the surface those water molecules are clinging to the richness of winter still. The chill in our bones makes like a pre show to the goose bumps doing the wave across your body. You go into that pool one toe at a time. At waist level you curl your arms up like you’re a Tyrannosaurus trying to defy the laws of water physics. Mouth wide open in delight, a perfect companion to your body language, it looks as though you want to type something in the air, were two typewriters suspended above your shoulders about where the Y is to your M C A. In this case, the anticipation isn’t always best. Just go under already.

My fingers have been dyed a toasty, silver nitrate brown. And the tendons in my hand literally hurt. Could this be from the 17-ish paragraphs I wrote on Tuesday? Maybe. Or it could be from playing too much Guitar Hero II in Statistics. Or it could be from trying to catch Poage’s football passes by clapping my two hands together, miraculously hoping for that ball to land between them. Then, he had the audacity to give me tips on how to play football. I mean, honestly, who does he think he is, a varsity football player? Jerk.

So, today I learned that my 19, yes that’s NINETEEN, year old friend is five months pregnant. I assure you, I am not making a story more dramatic so that it’s better reading. Well, maybe I should explain the lead up, so that it’s just as shocking to you as it was to me. Although I kind of just told you the climax, but anyways. This morning, I wake up at 7:30, roll out of bed, shower, jump in the car, and start my tour of Northern Cali. First, I go pick up someone at Walnut and Marconi. Ok. Not too bad, about 10 minutes away. Then we drive out to Antelope, to pick up soon-to-be-mother. To get to the freeway, she takes me through North Highlands. This was literally the most frightening 10 minute (it felt like a half hour) drive of my life. They have a store called “Gold Teeth” whose storefront was, I am not joking you, a grill. I seriously pushed the speed limit through that entire neighborhood. Then we drive to Downtown Sac. Does anyone else hate driving Downtown as much as I do? Freakin’ one way streets. So us three, in the mini-van, are going to meet another three at Tower Café, next door to Tower Theater. They have the best French toast I’ve ever eaten, for anyone who likes French toast. And I consider myself a connoisseur of French toast. So, we’re talking and eating and laughing, and Tyra goes “So, Jenny, when are you thinking about moving?” The rest of us are like, “What? Why’re you moving?” Jenny, “Well, I’m pregnant.” and SHRUGS. SHRUGS. Now, perhaps I should’ve prefaced this with saying I like Jenny as much as I can like a fellow human being. But COME ON. You’re 19. She’s five months pregnant; her baby girl is due August 22nd. Thanks, gynecologist Kyla. You’re welcome, curious blog reader. She and her boyfriend, read BOYFRIEND, have been together 15 months. I’ve had crappy mascara in the bottom of my make up bag for longer than that. I was talking to her about it on the drive home, and she was like, “Well we were talking, and we were both just like, we’re kinda stuck with each other, aren’t we?” YOU’RE NINETEEN. YOU’RE NOT STUCK WITH ANYONE. Aren’t you still kind of deciding what you want to do with your life at NINETEEN? “I know everything about him; I helped him fill out his Java City application, so I know his social security number, his extra curriculars, and his full name!” THE MERE FACT THAT YOU THINK THAT DEFINES A RELATIONSHIP TELLS ME YOU’RE NOT READY. A picture of the two on her Myspace has the caption of: My Baby’s Daddy! THE FACT THAT THAT IS YOUR CAPTION TELLS ME YOU’RE NOT READY. Oh, well, I know his full name, so…it’s only the natural next step that we have a kid together, right? Now, I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not true. This girl is SMART. She is the sweetest person I’ve ever met. Well, Christy Cunningham might give her a run for her money.

I can’t even picture myself with a real, in-living-Technicolor boyfriend at 19. Heck, I can’t even imagine what I’ll look like at 19. Actually, I lied, I can. I’ll probably just look more like Aly. I CERTAINLY can’t imagine myself PREGGERS at 19. I can’t imagine myself pregnant…ever. When Seibel was talking about how giving birth changes you, blah blah blah, I thought to myself, “What’s the point?” Now, please understand the disclaimer to this entry: THESE ARE MY THOUGHTS OF RIGHT NOW. THIS IS NOT SET IN STONE. I really don’t want to have children, ever. It’s not just because of the video I was forced to watch about childbirth. But what’s the point? The earth is populated enough. Kids are expensive – yes, this is my frugal Asian facet showing itself. I teach hula to little girls. By the end of an hour and a half, my veins are so engorged with rage that I balloon up like that girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Veruca Salt? Was that her name? If I get annoyed after 1.5 hours, what’s that compared to the rest of my life? There’s the not wanting to die alone thing, and I’ll admit, that’s something to think about. But kids are a crap shoot. If technology has advanced enough that I can custom order my child, GATTACA style, perhaps I shall reconsider. But for now, I will uphold that I don’t want kids. However, I do want many, many cats. Ha. Joking. No I’m not.