"It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist."

This morning, I was trying to figure out what to listen to on Spotify but couldn't think of anything (MY LIFE IT IS SO HARD) so I put on Indie radio. Coldplay's Don't Panic came on which gave me the brilliant idea to listen to the Garden State soundtrack. (That song is on the Garden State soundtrack. In case you weren’t aware. The thoughts were connected, is what I'm saying.)

I listened to the Garden State soundtrack all morning because I guess I wanted to make myself really sad? That's the only thing I can think of. I was obsessed with Garden State (both the movie and the soundtrack) when it came out. I was just out of college and floundering through adulthood (The Shins hadn't yet changed my life) so a story about a guy going home and drifting along until he found some sort of connection with someone or something was right up my alley. I watched the movie constantly, sometimes starting it over as soon as the credits rolled. If I remember correctly (and it seems I do), Garden State and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind were in pretty constant rotation for a while which...I guess I was trying to MAKE myself suffer from crippling depression? Good idea, Past!Jennie.

So you can imagine how disappointed I was when Joe and I watched Garden State a couple of years ago and I hated it. Just hated it. I hated everyone in it. Though, I was never all that fond of Natalie Portman's character, having been convinced upon first viewing that she stole my “socially awkward, lying-for-no-reason” schtick. Most everyone else was OK back then, though. But this time? Everything grated. The slow drift through the story (such as it was), the overly dramatic dialogue, the "original moment," I couldn't believe how much I used to love it.

God, even reading the quotes on IMDb is giving me a mad case of CringeFace (so stop, IDIOT). I think what it is, is that I loved this movie SO MUCH, so unabashedly, that now I'm embarrassed that I felt so strongly. Which is stupid. Who cares that I used to love that movie? It spoke to me at a time when I needed it and now I don't need it anymore and that's OK. There’s a reason we behave differently at 30 than we did at 20 and that is called GROWING AS A PERSON or some bullshit, and that’s fine and normal and blah blah whatever.

Anyway. The Garden State soundtrack is still great. And it does still make me sad when I listen to it. It makes me miss the person I used to be, confused as she was, because I don't really know her anymore. I'm no longer homesick for that place that doesn't exist. But I used to be. For a long time, I felt stuck in limbo between childhood and adulthood, like I was just playing adult most of the time. And while I still feel that way sometimes, I also know that I'm capable of doing adult-like things, good or bad, without completely falling apart. I'm so much more capable than I used to be, more capable than I ever gave myself credit for. I mean, we all are, right?

Still. It makes me a bit nostalgic, listening to the soundtrack of my early twenties. A little heart-achy and more than a little eye-rolly, and, since we’re talking about my early twenties here, that feels almost perfect.

and then we all ate ice cream

I have a lot of trouble concentrating on anything on Sundays, especially in the afternoon and evening, because I know that tomorrow I have to go back to work and why am I wasting the few precious, precious free hours I have left writing articles such as, "How to Wax the Chest?" I am fairly certain that is knowledge I will never, ever need and I feel as if I'd rather not divulge the information I've gathered to the public at large, for fear that all men will start WAXING THEIR CHESTS ALL THE TIME.

Note to men: Do not wax your chests, please.

I'm finding it really difficult to write these articles today because . . . I just don't want to. Heidi's in the other room watching How I Met Your Mother and there's so much Internet to read and also I have become hopelessly addicted to Scrabulous. I'm not any good, of course, mostly because my method of playing is, "hmm, I think I've heard this word before," and then I just throw a bunch of letters together, hit Play Word, and hope it sticks.

In other news, last night Heidi and I watched this episode of True Life on MTV that has to be at least seven years old, but the people on it were all having plastic surgery of some sort. The guy was having calf implants. CALF IMPLANTS. I just . . . there are no words to describe how absolutely stupid that is. What was hilarious, though, was that this guy shaves his entire body AND wears body glitter when he goes out. Yeah, I said body glitter. I'm glad it was on, though, because we had just finished the worst movie ever, after stupidly taking advice from some guy standing behind us at Kroger while we were picking movies out of the movie machine. He was all, "The Ultimate Gift is good. Don't get Zodiac, it's really long." I'm not sure what made us listen to him, especially since he was wearing Bengals pajama pants and also, since when do I take movie-related advice PERIOD, let alone movie-related advice about a JAKE GYLLENHAAL MOVIE? Anyway, if I ever see that guy again, I'm kicking him square in the nut because The Ultimate Gift sucked. It was worse than everything in the Nicholas Sparks oeuvre PUT TOGETHER. And now I would please like you to give me credit* for sitting through the entire thing. Thank you in advance.

*will take booze instead

shotgun BANG what's up with that thang?

I'm going to talk about the gym now. Because my life is so boring that I have nothing better to talk about. I have a bone to pick with our gym. They keep playing these crappy teenybopper movies and I'm getting SO SICK OF THEM. One night? They were playing A Cinderella Story. Last night? She's the Man. Tonight? I forget the name of it, but it's that movie with Hilary Duff and Big and Heather Locklear and it's actually not that bad, but I don't want to watch it at the gym, you know?

She's the Man just MIGHT be the worst movie I have ever seen. And I didn't even watch all of it. Thank god. I might have died. Because I would have thrown myself under the treadmill. Would that kill you, do you think? Anyway. Amanda Bynes is terrible. Just terrible. Although, if I go in tomorrow and they're playing What a Girl Wants, I'll be OK with it but only because Colin Firth is in it. Mr. Darcy makes everything better. Oh hush, I know he's not Mr. Darcy in that movie, but if I listen to my mp3 player while watching it, I can pretend he is.

So tonight I got on the elliptical and did a bit of warm up, but I thought the resistance on the machine seemed a little weird. Like . . . grindy. I don't know. Most of the machines were empty because, um, they were playing a Hilary Duff movie, so I got on the elliptical next to me. I wasn't on it more than a minute when I noticed it was making this loud, obnoxious squeaking noise with every rotation. I could even hear it over The Fratellis. Yes, I was listening to music while watching the movie. Did you not hear me? Hilary Duff. Enough said. Finally, after I'd had enough squeaking, I got on a third machine. And that one was juuuust right. You know, I always hated Goldilocks when I was a kid. What a whore. I'd be so pissed if some bitch came in and ate all my porridge (I mean, theoretically, because I don't think I even like porridge) AND she broke a bunch of furniture. She broke a chair, right? And one of the beds? Did the bears eat her in the end, because they totally should have.

The word you're looking for is . . . ANYWAY (trademark: Ross Geller). I'm not sure if all this extra gym time is even working. I can't tell a difference. Maybe my insides are totally healthy now. My heart is all buff and showing off for the other organs. And bragging about how many ladies he's gonna score (apparently my heart is a man? That explains a lot) and making my liver feel like shit because of how badly I treat it. Poor liver. You never stood a chance.