The Wedding

"Is there anything you want to say," she asked after a moment.

I hesitated, aware there was more to her question than its innocence implied. I thought perhaps that she was referring to a new hairstyle, but I looked carefully and her hair seemed no different from usual. I'd tried over the years to notice such things. Still, I was at a loss, and as we stood before each other, I knew I had to offer something.

"How was your day?" I finally asked.

She gave a strange half smile in response and turned away.

I know now what she was looking for, of course, but at the time I shrugged it off and went back to work, chalking it up as another example of the mysteriousness of women.

Later that evening, I'd crawled into bed and was making myself comfortable when I heard Jane draw a single, rapid breath. She was lying on her side with her back toward me, and when I noticed that her shoulders were trembling, it suddenly struck me that she was crying.

That's an excerpt from Nicholas Sparks' new novel The Wedding, to which I was unaware is a sequel to The Notebook¹. Browsing through Barnes & Nobel, I found that along with Mitch Alborne's The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and a few other books. The people who've known me the longest are forming simple equations in their minds:

J + n = no solution, where J is Jesse and n is novels, and, well, has he lost his mind? No, I haven't lost my mind, my friends. I've just realized that I do enjoy reading, but I have trouble finding time to myself. That's going to change, now, that I've found a wonderful book with an amazing first chapter that intrigues me, and begs me to pay Nicholas Sparks $11.95. He' s a nice guy, and I suppose he deserves some credit for his handiwork.

Jamie called me while I was reading in the store today. I thought that was very nice of him, so I decided to get up and do my walk and talk on the phone routine. I always feel the need to walk whenever I talk on the phone. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's my only form of real exercise. Who knows? Regardless, I do indeed enjoy myself talk to friends on the phone. Jamie and I talked for a little bit, but not too long, because in the midst of our conversation, a Barnes & Nobel employee felt the need to take the books from my table (with me standing five feet from the table, mind you) and walk away with them.

Me_Me_Me: Oh, those are mine. Excuse me...?
JerkBookeeper8: I am ignoring you and will continue to walk away with the books you spent thirty minutes searching for. I will place the books back on the shelves of the store, in an effort to make you search for them again, and hopefully find ten more books that you will, then, feel like you need to buy them all. Ha ha ha, don't you see? It's all about corporate marketing. You will NEVER FIND YOUR BOOKS, AGAIN! HAHAHAHA!
Me_Me_Me: EXCUSE ME. Those are my books.
JerkBookeeper8: Oh, sorry.

Paisley (above) spends anywhere from five to forty minutes on her hair each day, depending on what style she's interested in that day.

I didn't really feel inclined to sneak around this morning. In fact, I woke up around 11:30 AM, and got right up and into the shower. The bathroom was completely free of the Johnny Mac or Greg Brady. Into the shower I went, out of the shower I came -- a new man, so to speak, like you, apparently, cleeeaann...

Yes, I styled my hair at length again today. I figured that since Kurt Douglas is still off making babies, movies, and out, I'd enjoy my privacy while it lasts. Let's face it, no man can spend more than thirty-five seconds styling his hair unless he's either (A) a woman or (B) gay. Since A really isn't possible, and B really isn't true, I fall under the mysterious (C) category -- the metrosexual². I'm sure many of you have heard of that, but many of you probably haven't. Either way, people can misinterpret that for many different things. Ah, well, that's their fault to judge, right? Of course. I can't allow myself to get caught up in protecting my self image. Not this early on in the game, anyway. I am me, and that's who is I. There is no "i" in team, but there certainly is an "i" in me, two in fact, and I use them everyday.

I haven't figured out a good way to hang my corkboard or MATRIX REVOLUTIONS poster in my room yet. There really isn't any easy way to do that. You can't put tacks into the walls, but there are tack strips in the walls where you are allowed to tack things, but the tack strips aren't really fully on the walls, they wobble, I guess you could say, and so, in the end, anything put on these so-called "strips" will shimmy until ultimately crashing on the floor in pieces. Take my word for it, nothing of value should be hung up there. So, feel free to hang the following list of items on my dorm room tack strip:

1. Summer reading novels


To find out how to cook this wonderful recipe, and many more casseroles, please visit the official Betty Crocker recipe pages!

2. Parents
3. "The Best of Delilah, Magic 107.7 CD Collection"
4. "FROST: Portrait of a Vampire"
5. Any song by The Darkness, other than "I Believe in a Thing Called Love"
6. Mr. Delbrugge's morning announcements
7. People who yell, "SHOTGUN" when vying for the front seat
8. The last five minutes of "Open Water"
9. Tuna casserole
10. Judy Vanderoef

I almost stabbed myself today when I attempted to organize my new silverware. Well, that's a slight exaggeration, kill. When I tried to open the cylindrical case for the silverware, the knives decided to shoot out a little fast than the spoons, unfortunately, and naturally, I grabbed -- the knives flew out, I caught one of the four, and juggled it one handed, caught it, and, for whatever reason, stabbed myself with it.

Yes, this really happened.

But here's where the "kill" becomes the exaggeration. They were butter knives. Ah, yes, the denouement of the knife tale. Lucky for me, there was no real falling action, however.

Older predator-style microwaves have been replaced with newer, countdown timer-style microwaves that any person understanding the basic mathematical system can operate. No more over-cooking your favorite dishes, such as "Alien Brain Pasta."

I think I was shafted when I chose the white microwave, as I've stated in previous entries. I'm really starting to miss my older, predator microwave. They just don't make them like they used to. But, this microwave works just fine for what I need it for -- Easy Mac and hot dogs.

That's what I've been eating these past few days -- Easy Mac, hot dogs, and sandwiches. The famous ham, cheese, mayonnaise, and salad dressing sandwich (don't throw up, it's actually very tasty!) I also bought TUNA! Don't you just love tuna? I think it's so good. In fact, I bought four cans. Today, I got a huge craving for tuna, so I decided to make myself a little sandwich Now, there are many people who say that they prefer to mix mayonnaise and tuna in a bowl or something similar and then spread the mix on bread. Others say that you should just throw the two on a sandwich, and go with it. Well, I chose the latter -- not because of taste preference, but because it's the most expedient exercise. Time is essential at this point, ladies and gentlemen.

Oh yeah, and I don't have a can opener.

So, tuna was out the window. I felt the need to punish the bread and mayonnaise for not reminding me to get a can opener, so I didn't eat them at all -- for about thirty minutes. After not eating, I was still hungry (go figure), and decided to just make a classic ham, cheese, mayonnaise, and salad dressing sandwich (yes, I know, I'm ready to throw up now). Once you have your mind set on a certain meal, it's hard to switch modes -- even if the alternative is tasty and good.

Did I mention that the store was out of real mayonnaise, so I had to opt for Miracle Whip? Now, some people will contest that it's the same thing. Well, it's not. Miracle Whip burns like diarrhea coming out of your nose.

I didn't even realize that I had scalded my tongue until today. I'm assuming it was from the first night of tasting the crapperoni I cooked in the microwave. Yeah, first the old 750 watts didn't do much, but then it nearly set the building on fire. The bowl slightly melted. Yeah, forgot to explain that one. That has to be why my tongue feels burned. You all know that feeling, too, don't play with me. Whenever you eat something, you can feel it, there...burning...it hurts. The salad dressing on that sandwich really burned. Ooh, but it was so good.

Rachel called me while I was working on the computer, and I took some time out to chat with her. She was the first person to call my dorm! I'm so excited about that...knowing that my phone works. But, unfortunately, the phone line is shared by both me and Kurt Douglas. So, I'm confused as to why two phones are even necessary. So, if anyone calls that line, please be forewarned that you may get hold of a movie star whose career isn't exactly at its peak.

Anyway, while Rachel was on the phone, I heard the EVIL talking about the mandatory meeting that we all had to go to tonight for the housing...whatnot...whatever. So, I came out of my room, made a few jokes, and retreated. They laughed. That's a sign of life. That's a good sign.

A taste of reality: things are randomly stressful here. It's all dependent on what you think about. I don't have books, I don't have parking permit stuff, and I just got a one binder for class. I have food, though, which is good, and the ability to communicate with people. That's the most important things to me, right now.

Alright, reality check...I don't need everything at once, I know. I'm going to order my books tomorrow, I suppose. I heard from my beloved roommate that some professors don't even use the textbooks. So, that's comforting.

This lovely frock is an example of some collegewear specifically designed to make you look cool. Many famous celebrities don this style: Jill & Kristen Vanderoef, James Lowe, & Tyler Teachworth.

For dinner tonight, I felt the need to go crazy and get myself a pizza. Problem was, by the time I was hungry, it was past midnight. So, I trekked out for some food, and found a lovely 24-HR Papa John's. Yeah, I'll be there quite a bit. Not even three days have gone by, and I'm already a "college kid." Ah, geezers. Now, all I need are some screen t-shirts with random things on them that I'm not actually involved in. Please visit Hollister Co (AKA, College Outfitters). in order to see exactly what I'm talking about.

So, it's 1:31 AM now. There he sits, across the room. Actually, he's not five feet away from me. It's Kurt Douglas, or more technically, Kurt Vandestreek -- the big man on campus. Well, he's actually just a random guy who's my roommate, but hey, a kid can dream, can't he?

Kurtis and I aren't talking. In fact, he's been like this ever since the night I forgot his dinner party. I mean, I know, I'm not obligated to go...but, I mean, it must have hurt his feelings. There he goes again, typing things into his phone. Great balls of Richmond,, what a endearing soul.

Lies. The 8x10 of Marilyn Monroe is tacked to my corkboard. I can't even find a good frame for it. If I did, that baby would be in a frame so fast. But maybe it's better that it's not in a frame. I mean, then I'd have to find something to tack it to, and...we know where that'd lead us.

Class starts at 8:30 tomorrow³. More things happened today, but I am sorry to say that I must go to bed. I know, I know...Jesse, the alnighter...who needs sleep when you're Jesse Chapman? Well, there is one person...and that's me.

¹If you've seen the movie, "The Notebook," but haven't read the book, you might be asking how a sequel is possible. Well, not only is the movie ending irrelevant in terms of where and how this sequel is taking place, but the book and the movie end differently.

²metrosexual (met.roh.SEK.shoo.ul) n. An urban male with a strong aesthetic sense who spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle.

³I will have a full update tomorrow on the events that transpire. Look forward to reading yet another complete waste of time, right here on College is a Movie starring Jesse Chapman.