Archive | June, 2013

On Growing Up

9 Jun


I used to believe my life had a finite number of perfect moments.  That whenever I experienced something take-my-breath-away wonderful it was at the cost of Future Jill’s happiness.

I remember the night I came up with this theory. It was an achingly lovely evening with an achingly lovely boy.  I was wearing a pink pleated dress and the stars aligned and I was so exquisitely happy I said, “This simply isn’t fair.  No one person should get to be so happy.”

The boy thought I was being silly.

I insisted, “No, I am using up all the happiness allotted for my entire life, just in this one moment.  Things will never be so good again.”

It’s funny how your big, bold Life Ideas change.

It’s funny how you look back through the fuzzy lens of time and strain to relate to a former version of yourself.

The girl in the pleated dress is a faded memory, almost like someone I read about in a fairytale. Her open life and open heart don’t exist anymore, and that is tragic and necessary and a very good and a very bad thing.

Maybe this is what we call growing up.

Honey, I’m Old!

7 Jun


Do you remember in Season 9 when Chandler quits his job as a statistical analysis and data reconfiguration…guy…and decides to pursue advertising?  And he takes that unpaid internship where the other way-younger interns call him “Sir” and he calls his boss “Man-who’s-two-years-younger-than-me?”

Yeah.  That’s a little bit how I feel at my internship these days.

Honey, I’m old.

On dysfunction

4 Jun

There are times when your dysfunction and my dysfunction combine into this perfectly functional mess. And I remember why I fell in love with you in the first place.  And I imagine a world where dysfunction was all that counted.  Maybe in that world we’d know how to exist.

Life For Rent

3 Jun


Listen to Dido “Life for Rent” while reading this post or don’t read it at all.

The other night I hung my shower curtain with hair clips and was eating runny mac and cheese with an all-in-one camping utensil when I had the thought, “I’m not sure how much I should invest in my life in Arizona, but surely it’s more than this.”

Yes, surely it is.

I should get on that.

Then again, Caitlin and I have been saying we should invest in Malibu since day one, and a year later our apartment still consists of exactly three pieces of furniture:

1.A surfboard

2. The second-cheapest table Ikea has to offer

3. A striped futon which we lovingly call “the chastity futon” because nothing is happening on that thing

Often when people come over to our place in Malibu they go, “Oh, so you just moved in two minutes ago?”

No, actually, we’ve been living here for a year, we carefully planned our three purchases, AND that large empty space known as “the living room” is a soon-to-be fake yoga studio, thank you very much.

PS: Now might be the time to mention that I went to the store last week with the sole purpose of buying a can opener so I could, you know, survive, and it wasn’t until I came home that I realized I had bought a garlic press.  Maybe it’s time to give this kitchen thing another go.  I’m reaching new levels of ridiculous.

PPS: I should also add that if the fake yoga studio falls through (heaven forbid) we are hanging a disco ball in the living room, because that space is really only used to dance it out Mer/Cristina-style.

Let The Sitcom Begin

3 Jun


This week two unknown roommates moved into my apartment.

Two unknown male roommates.

Two unknown male roommates who found the place on Craigslist.

*I’ll give you a moment to process that*

When Caitlin heard she said, “Let the sitcom begin!”

When Rob heard, he repeated “New Girl!” after everything I said, thus thwarting all attempts at communication.


Jill: So my roommates moved in.

Rob: New Girl!

Jill: They’re both male.

Rob: New Girl!

Jill: Thank you for being so concerned about my health and safety.

Rob: New Girl!

It’s what I imagine trying to speak with Zooey Deschanel’s publicist would be like.  On the red carpet.  At the season premiere of New Girl.

And seriously, why was no one concerned about my health and safety?

Last night was our first official night all together as roommates.  We ate spaghetti and laughed and discussed which Kardashian we would want to be stuck on an island with.  It was all very homey and nice and yummy and my answer was Bruce Jenner, duh.

After we had cleaned up and settled down for some TV, one of my roommates said, “Hey, do you watch New Girl?”

I knew where this was going, “Yeah.”

He continued, “You know, this roommate situation, it’s kind of like New Girl.”

I laughed, “I guess it sort of is, isn’t it?”

Don’t tell Rob.