Dreams

What would my dream life look like? A lot of kids say this:
I wanna go to college.
I wanna get married.
I wanna have babies.
I wanna die in my sleep.
How boring! This is my dream life.
I graduate high school and get into mischief. Not anything immoral or illegal, but the kind of adventures that make people's jaws drop and say "Wait, you didn't REALLY do that, did you?!" Dying my hair completely blue and wearing tacky Goodwill shorts and being thin and wild and crazy. That's how I'd graduate. I'd hop in my car, which is thus far imaginary, with its back plastered with bumper stickers. I'd crank up my radio full blast to "Fight for Your Right" and drive off with all my friends drinking energy drinks, screeching with laughter and headed to wherever the wind takes us.
          I go to college and read books that stuff whatever dorm space I have. I go on weekly random quests with a group of friends who seem to have jumped out of the pages of a John Green novel. I learn stuff, sure, but the time goes quickly so I can do what I really want.
              I do get married. With the big dream wedding I've had in my head since I was thirteen. Everything is perfect, and if not, the little hitches are the kind that make my sides hurt from laughter. It would only be described as magical. Something people think about in the quiet moments of their lives. 
           But what I really want is a bookstore. Full of dusty and new books. Beloved paperbacks and treasured hardbacks lining the walls and smiling down at the eager customers hunting for them below. Music that strikes my mood playing over speakers as booklovers unite in my own little piece of heaven. Today I finally thought of the name I would pick for it. It would be "The Henry Bemis" after the famous Twilight Zone episode "Time Enough At Last". You'll just have to watch it. 
           There would be a coffee bar which my dad could most definitely run easily. (He's a coffee maniac.) I'd also serve muffins and ice cream. I'd have used Bibles tucked in a special shelf that would say "Please take free of charge. I'd rather lose a book than lose a soul." and "If not to take, please highlight a special passage you have in mind for the one who will take this later."
       Then I would let people buy a song on iTunes to play over the speakers if they had one stuck in their head. They would donate $2, one for the song and one for charity. 
        I'd have specials on random book subjects, such as "Distopian Novel Day" and "Cheesy Romance Thursdays" and discount randomly, such as, "50% Off Anyone Who Can Quote a Poem by Heart". 
It would be absolutely lovely. <3 Absolutely. 

Birthday Dilemma!

My birthday is slowly creeping towards me, and honestly, I can't wait. And yeah, it's two months away, but folks, I'll be a LEGAL ADULT. Can you believe that? I can't. I still can't believe I graduated second grade, never mind being able to buy lottery tickets or cigarettes for small children! (I jest. They at least have to be 12 ;] ) Anywho, I am absolutely and totally conflicted about what sort of awesome party madness I want to partake in. Sure, parties are for kids, but folks, I only get a few shots left at being absolutely immature without judgement! 18! It's a big deal! I gotta live it up! So, I'd like a lil feedback. Just say which of these you find appealing:

• Alice in Wonderland
• Rainbows
• Books

YOU DECIDE!!!! (Although I may do something completely opposite of your opinion ;] )

A few other minor notes:

You know what sucks about being in the musical Beauty and the Beast? Having the music stuck in your head at a constant basis. Really, the song "Gaston" is only funny the first 150 times...But yeah, the play is in a week and God is pretty much the only thing that can shape it up to what it needs to be.

ALSO.

My schedule has been cray-cray. I am ready for summer and dying my hair blue, that's fo sho.

Alright, that's it folks. Please, holla back.

A Story for You

I love telling people stories. Being a writer, that's what I practically live for. And I'm pretty decent at it. I always can get a smile out of all my stupid adventures I go through, even if it's me describing the weird look I got in-line at Target or how my shoe fell off once. So, I thought I'd start sharing some of my adventures with you. I found a quote today that goes "I got this idea of doing a really serious big work--it would be precisely like a novel, with a single difference: Every word of it would be true from beginning to end." (Truman Capote). So, my big work of the day is telling you a little funny truth, from beginning to end.

I was 12 years old and it was the last day of school. Our school always put on these giant festivals on the last day, full of jupiter-jumps and slides and this year, they even had a human hamster ball to run around in. It was a big deal, especially to a 12 year old itching to wreak havoc on the world. I was in a particularly rebellious mood that day. Something about finally being freed from my toughest year yet (If I only knew how insane eleventh grade would be...) and the heat of the summer not only was frizzing my curls but making me a little restless.

That feeling peaked when my very best friend, who had been kicked out of school a few months back, appeared to partake in our Last Day festivities. Now, I don't know if you've read my last post, but I had a mega-crush on my middle-school best friend, David Pilgrim. He was rowdy, loud, smelled like beef jerky, loved the colour orange--everything I wasn't. So of course I was extremely obsessed with him.

One thing I *was*, though, was crazy. So when David's mom offered to have me come over I jumped on the opportunity. Spending my last day at my true love's house instead of having normal fun was the best idea ever! (Every bit of that sentence was coated in seven inches of sarcasm.) We drove over and began to do what we did best--be total and complete morons.

David's older brother, Reese, got a car for his 13th birthday. Apparently to the Pilgrims, not only was 13 the beginning of teenagedom, but also the appropriate time to introduce your child to illegal driving practices. I remember it now--a grubby, crappy, green Geo-Trakker with a clutch. It was the ugliest car I had ever seen and I wished my parents were cool enough to buy ME my own ugly car at age 13! (Unfortunately, I am almost eighteen and I still don't have an ugly car to call my own...) Reese had a fantastic idea--let's all drive in his birthday gift!

We did. Reese drove. His older brother Dylan drove. Then, suddenly, a fantastic idea was made, even MORE fantastic than letting under-age tweens drive a car illegally all over a residential neighborhood without adult supervision! It was collectively agreed, that I, Jenna Buschmann, should take the wheel and drive the band of brothers around merrily. This was *such* a brilliant plan, because, not only did I not know how to drive clutch, but I had never drove any car EVER in my entire life. Obviously, this was the brainchild of people having the characteristics of head-trauma victims.

David, my usually wild friend, sobered down enough to tell me this wasn't a good idea. I, trying to impress my extremely freckly best friend, cast this bit of sage advice out the Geo-Trakker's window and went behind the wheel. This is what I remember:

• I was driving great when it came to straight lines
• Oh look! A cul-de-sac!
• How do I turn?
• Is this the clutch? What's the clutch for again?
• THIS IS NOT THE CLUTCH!!!
• THIS IS THE GAS!!!!
• NOT ONLY AM I DRIVING IN A STRAIGHT LINE, I AM DRIVING IN A STRAIGHT LINE HEADED FOR A WHITE METAL FENCE!!
• THERE GOES THE FENCE!!!
• I RAN OVER SOME DAISIES!!!
• OH CRAP I'M NOT WEARING A SEATBELT!!
• OH CRAP, HERE COMES A HOUSE!!!!
• OKAY, I JUST FREAKING HIT A HOUSE!!!
• ROCKS ARE FALLING ONTO REESE'S CAR AND I JUST HIT A HOUSE!!
• "Crap!!!! Holy crap!!!" I am saying a word my mom does not allow me to say and if David tells my mom I said crap, I am screwed, which is another word my mom does not allow me to say.
• WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT?! I'm not getting in trouble for saying "crap", I'm getting in trouble for HITTING A HOUSE WITH A CAR AT AGE TWELVE.

A little girl who had been swimming in the house's backyard came out and basically looked like I had just killed Santa Claus before her very eyes. Then this old man walked out and said

"What the f--- do you think you're doing???"

"Driving...."

"NOTHING?! S---, you call this NOTHING?! You ran into my house!!!"

(me, thinking: I said "driving", obviously this isn't "nothing", I just said the word "crap". I don't disobey my mom for "nothing".)

The rest is a blur. I found out that Mrs. Pilgrim was this guy's friend. And we somehow made a deal so that he didn't call the cops on us. I know the boys got in more trouble than I did because they told me to drive. I also remember I refused to drive go-carts for 4 years because of this.

I remember going back to David's, waiting for my mom to get me. We were sitting alone in his room, which usually I would've been thrilled about except I felt like I just swallowed my own lungs. And I remember him turning to me. And he looked very handsome to a 12 year old girl who got in a car wreck. And I thought, "Gee, this may become a moment where he realizes I could have killed us all and he wants me to know he loves me because our near-death experience made him realize he can't live without me!" And he opened his mouth and said these very profound words:

"Jenna. I know you have had one rough day. And I want you to hear something that I think will help you...

Jesus take the wheel!

Take it from her hands!

Cause Jenna just ran into a house!

And almost killed us alllll!

I just thought you should know."

So my best friend not only did not cheer me up, but now has ruined Carrie Underwood songs even more than they were ruined before I crashed a car into a house.

So there's my story.

I'm getting my license this month.

Feel assured.

An Open Letter to Younger Jenna

A few days ago, my dear readers, I had come across a rare find--a diary. Whose, you may ask? My own. From when? 5th-7th grade. My dear readers, I eagerly read through those pages with such fervor you would have thought I had stumbled upon the Dead Sea Scrolls. Instead, I discovered a frightening truth...

At age 11-13, I was most probably certifiably insane.

Example A, I had "Fallen MADLY in love!!!!!!" with about 8 boys every week. Apparently, I've had a lot of soul mates in my time, all of which never knew (and still do not know) that I even considered them to be possibly candidates for fathering my young. Which is fine by me, because a lot of them are either pot heads now or noodling someplace that no one's ever heard of.

Example B, I had an extreme love/hate relationship with my best friend for 11 years, Allison. I apparently bought her chocolates and fine jewelry and then she slapped me and called me a witch. None of which, by the way, is probably true, so this means not only did I make connections with males quickly but also I was a sociopath...all the makings of a great gold digger someday, my friends.

Example C, I was madly in love with my best friend for two years, who was my "super hot boyfriend". Let's just clear this up. The kid called me 5 times in my life, liked to sing a song about butt paste on a constant basis, and for my birthday had his mother give me his toys from when he was 5. Needless to say, it was a shame to see such a heartthrob leave my life. I have no idea how I carried on.

Example D, I believed I had telepathic powers for about a week. I have no explanation for this. When you know, you know, I suppose.

SO, looking back at this tragic and dramatic time of my life where every single stinking detail was crucial to my very essence ("I have a scab in my nose! OMG, my dad made me take out the trash! WHEN AM I GONNA GET A PHONE!?"), I decided that I would write this very amazing Open Letter to myself just in case time travel ever happens and my tween-self decides to venture past the time/space continuum.

Dear Younger Jenna,

I hate to tell you this, but that entire songbook you made with the lyrics "I'm like a pie, get it while it's hot!" and "My soul is full of cobwebs and screaming" will not be produced into a multi-platinum album. Also, David Pilgrim will NOT marry you, so forget about writing your name as "Mrs. Jenna Pilgrim" about five zillion times, because you're just killing trees. Oh! Good news. I read the notes you wrote to "Future Jenna" and I'm pleased to inform you that not only have you NOT ever smoked or drank, but, in fact, you also have managed from employing yourself as a stripper and you've never done it either, so, yeah, thanks for the memo. It sure helped contain myself from signing onto the Night Tripps 7:30-12:00 shift. Also, your band? "Smashing Walls" (totally NOT a knock-off from Smashing Pumpkins, I'm sure)? Didn't make it. I know it's tough to hear, especially since you made that band after your first guitar lesson and knowing only how to play "Brain Stew" and then forgetting how in a matter of hours. But I have some good news. You have an awesome boyfriend now (you've had to meet a few jerks beforehand, though). That kid who you thought you were in love with because he liked dragons too? Yeah, him. Oh, and your parents? They still love you (but also still yell a bit). And Allison turns into a very sweet girl who has impeccable taste in fashion (because you and her are about to discover Seventeen in about 2 months). And Briana, who is "really nice but not sure if she likes me", yeah, she's one of the best friends you're ever going to have. And you're going to be even better at writing. And you're going to get a phone. So, congrats. You did things pretty well. :)

--Older Jenna