I just recently turned 21, hope to graduate next May, am patiently awaiting the response for internships in Chicago (for no particular time), and, if I don't escape Iowa City soon, will quietly go insane. My name is Kristen and I'm a writer. Of nothing really; I can't write books (I'm too impatient) or spot news (my brain doesn't fare well with bore). I don't have many passions that I'm also knowledgeable enough about to express my opinion with any sort of weight, except, maybe, writing. But what's that? Metawriting. Metascript. I don't know, regardless, it's probably not very exciting. I work as a waitress at the Wig and Pen in town, I make good money and am learning how to use a curling iron. If I were to stay in Iowa City any longer than absolutely necessary, the Wig would be the reason. The only time I listen to country music, I'm in a jeep and I can't listen to any music before bed or while I'm doing homework. I catch myself counting how many siblings I have on my fingers (there's 6-ish) but I only have one brother. My parent's divorced when I was 8, I think, but I called it when I was 5 (I was, apparently, a very perceptive kid). I'm from Bettendorf, Iowa, but fib and tell strangers I'm from Davenport as, sorry, but Bettendorf embarrasses me and I don't like being pegged as a snob. Right now my cheeks are tight with dried tears and I should be writing a theatrical review about a play I saw yesterday (on Easter) but my mind feels like an oil spill.
I follow specialized blogs, blogs about politics or popular culture or the technology trends. The only "blog" I consistently read that's centered only around someone's life and daily trekings is my exboyfriend, and that's because I narcissistically try to peg when I'm being referenced, I even skip his lullings about how badly he wants a motorcycle (I told him not to sell his) or how lonely Pittsburgh is (I told him not to stay). But he's moving on and his entries are less and less about me and more and more about topics I only skim and, occasionally, his previous exgirlfriend who, unsurprisingly, isn't a topic I care much to follow very closely. But the point is I don't like reading about what people are doing today or what they did yesterday or, oh my god, how drunk they got last weekend. I don't really need to read other people's musings or complaints, I have my own. I don't follow, via text, who's sleeping with who and falling out of love with what, that's what my friends and Real World reruns are for. Or at least, if I weren't me, I wouldn't be reading this.
I'm starting this because I have a terrible memory. I can't very well remember high school and junior high is a sequence of hazy bits amongst some puberty-endunced embarrassing moments. I don't remember before I was eight, when my parents were still together, except, perhaps, the day my brother was born (I ate my mother's hospital-food watermelon) and the divorce talk (I was playing with my Barbies). I'm starting this blog because writing is the only thing I'm good at and myself is the only topic I know well enough to talk about. I'm writing a blog because perhaps one day I'm not impatient enough to write a book and I fairly certain my life will have enough anecdotes to pull from. I'm doing this because, no matter how boring my life may be, in fifty years, the time change will prove to be interesting enough, my grandchildren could pull it up (on their contact lenses, the new medium for web-browsing, I'm sure). I'm writing this so I can remember.
This, if all goes according to plan, will be an account of my life as it is today, but also my attempt to remember and catalog bits of my past that I'll forget soon enough. In no particular order, mind you. I'd like to introduce a couple of key players:
Me: I'm Kristen, I'm writing this, if you haven't figured that out by now please just X out of your browser.
Taylor: The roommate of a year and a half. We get along smashingly and I wouldn't trade her for another. We've known each other since sixth grade when she moved to Bettendorf from Des Moines and hated our elementary school. I hated her immediately. But we became friends and have been since. 15 years? Jesus Christ.
Nate: The boyfriend. We've been together for, I don't know, not very long, months maybe. He leaves for Afghanistan tomorrow. He's everything I'm not. He's as Rebublican as I am Democrat, as conservative as I am liberal, as American as I am... not. As of yesterday, he wants to buy a truck and go to law school. By the end of his tour that'll have changed numerously and hopefully my opinion trumps his and he gets a Jeep. Thank you, hunny. He's from Iowa City but lives in Colorado, when he gets home I'll have moved to Chicago, he'll eventually go to school of some sort on the East Coast so, frankly, we'll never be in the same time zone. But he's ridiculously handsome and sweet and painfully unfunny and cares about me and is tolerant with me. That's not something I'm used to. I'm falling for him hard and tomorrow will be painful.
Evan: The bestfriend. The best of the best friend. He's been there for me, he'll be here for me. He's not going anywhere and he gets me and laughs with me and, if I ever think I'm alone, I know I have him. I love him so much somtimes it hurts and I miss him more often than not. I only wish he was better about his cell phone. Evan, I only wish you were better about your cell phone.
Maggie: I have so many good things to say about Maggie but I'm angry with her right now so it'll just be forced at the moment. I'll wait. She's great. That I mean.
D: The smart one. Dorm friends and she's smart and we're both Journalists. She extremely funny and even more extremely sketchy. I suppose you take the good with the bad.
Ryan: Gourley. He makes up for D's sketchiness and has, through it all, maintained that he's reliable. I love him, I do, Ryan, I really do.
Dylan: No comment, he ruined my Easter.
Mark: The ex. He successfully cheated on me for all but two weeks of our 6 month to 2 year relationship. We rarely speak now unless I need help with my internet connection or to scold him for being an asshole.
Scotty: The ex, ex. We're now amicable but that took just under a year to fester. He was the first person I loved and I loved him unconditionally. Even through his over-bearing tendencies and his jealousy, through his sharp words and short fuse. But he loved me too and I wasn't about to leave him.
Eric: The... ex? A Chicago musician/actor who was just as into himself as he was into Greek dancers.
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