The Day I Met Jenny And Hung Out With Chris And Spoke With My Peace Corps Representative

Biggest news of the day was getting in touch with Jennifer Clowers from the Peace Corps. She had a few things to say about my initial application--my resume apparently had some random Objective that made no sense regarding the Peace Corps, which was super embarrassing. She said I'd be able to adjust that. I also need to get one more reference because Colleen from Sac Press doesn't count. They're really looking for volunteer work here, which I don't have. Then we made arrangements for an interview in Oakland on February 9. I'm a little bit nervous, honestly. It's starting to get real. 

After work I met Chris at Old Soul around 5:00pm and he happened to be sitting across the table from Jenny, a customer I recognize from multiple visits, but rarely spoke more than five words to. Short brown hair, pretty, with an outfit from the racks of Bows and Arrows. I've gotta guess that she's no more than 24, if not younger, since she's a creative writing major who just graduated from Davis in December. She also did an internship with Capitol Weekly last summer and is now a hired employee who writes weekly political articles, released city-wide each Thursday. Right now she's digging into the corruption of prison healthcare. Anyway, Chris and I had plans to go smoke at my house and nothing more, so I figure we might as well see if Jenny wants to come along, too. 

She does. 

But first, we stop at Chipotle.

There, in line, she gets a call from the guy she's trying to buy a record player from through craigslist, and they arrange to meet up for the exchange at a Starbucks in Arden. With no other plans and a bit of an assumption on Jenny's part, it seems that Chris and I will be tagging along, and so with Chipotle bags in hand we start off on our adventure. 

The Sacramento Snow Globe Effect (SSGE) comes into play again when I find out that Jenny lives in the same building as Max, a fellow old soul, and she recognizes his name from a conversation she had with the owner of the building, who happens to be Max's father. Jenny won't live so close to me for long, however, because she's moving out soon (moving in with Nic and his fiancée, actually, another SSGE) to a house a bit further away. I like the look of her little life--it's very similar to mine, minus the political activism. Jenny gives us a quick tour and then chooses a record from her packed-away bookshelf, Muddy Waters, and gathers the forty bucks that the craigslist guy is asking for the player.

Jenny drives a small noisy car with messy seats where the radio was left tuned to NPR and her iPod shuffle includes authors reading poetry. I'm in the backseat behind Jenny with Chris riding shotgun and we're all quietly amazed that our paths crossed so seamlessly on this otherwise average Friday evening. Conversation is good. Somewhat isolated in the back, I'm pretty quiet until we get there. Other than traffic on the freeway and a near-accident in Midtown, we make it to Arden eventually, unscathed, with unopened Chipotle bags still at our sides. 

Jenny is a peculiar blend of informed-political and inwardly curious. Someone who can carry a debate, but also listen to a stoner's rambling about the purpose of the universe. She's very much going through the Who Am I phase of post-college existence, a little bit searching, a little bit unsettled, and she has an informed view of the world that already gives her a strong personal identity. Her awareness is commendable. From what I can tell, she's doing better than alright. I can't say I'm not jealous of her pursuits in journalism. 

We found the Starbucks and met the craigslist poster, who plugged in the record player at the back of the cafe and Jenny played Muddy Waters to check the quality. It was a steal for forty bucks. She carried it back to her car like a parent who'd adopted a newborn. 

After finding parking in Midtown, we wander back to my house while Chris names off the types of trees we pass beneath. Luckily I left Holmes on, so the room is warm when we arrive. 

I always like showing off my room--I think it's acquired a really good vibe. It feels like somewhere people like to be as much as I do. 

We're all getting along great. This is the first time I've really gotten to hang out with Chris outside of work, save for the few Favors shows I went to, but those were different situations. This was a bonding moment. And then Jenny, this happenstance customer across the table, turns out to be our new best friend. 

We smoke, we talk about movies, we talk about art, we talk about poetry, we talk about love, we talk about past relationships, we talk about Black Swan, we talk about work, we talk about journalism, we talk about television, we talk about books, we talk about math, we talk about whale communication, we talk about cellphones, we talk about mob behavior, we talk about murder, we talk about Russian fashion, we talk about weed in Davis, we talk about snow in Montana, we talk about older siblings having children, we talk about stardust.

I also read out loud to Jenny and Chris "January In Paris" by Billy Collins, my favorite poem from his Ballistics collection.

At some point we decide to go on a walk, but not before I show them the yard and the bonfire pit, the sight of which immediately changes the night completely. Next thing, Jenny's going home to grab old bank statements and financial aid paperwork to burn and Chris and I go to Grocery Outlet to get wood. Minutes later, we're sitting around the bonfire smoking a pipe, admiring the moon through the bare tree branches above the backyard. It's at this point that I really start thinking about the relationship forming with Jenny, and I struggle with the urge to let this be a Chris and Jenny thing (because I'm totally alright with being part of someone else's "this was the night we met" story), but then I have to check and see if Jenny's paying more attention to me and evaluate how I feel about that.

It's hard to be single. It's hard to stay single.

We're outside long enough to burn four logs. 

After this, we head out to Spin Burger--neither of them had been--and they try the cheeseburgers while I fill up on sweet potato fries. They're both a little surprised by the trendiness of the place, and the loud rap music from DJ Eddie Z might've been a little too much, but Jenny seemed to dig it. I'll never complain about the music if "Wanna Be A Balla" gets air-time. The food was great. Always is. Here I might've noticed an excess of attention from Jenny when we talked about her internships, about writing, about "What's next for you?" and the Peace Corps conversation that followed. 

Lastly, we returned to my room to listen to music--a little bit of Kanye's newest--and smoke a final bowl, then Jenny started to fall asleep and so she decided to go home. Chris stayed a bit longer, then I kicked him out because it was getting late and I have to open in the morning. 

Also saw Aly today. She's been super busy, she says, with her job, commuting to Stockton every other day. It was good to see her. I hope she calls me up soon when she's not so busy and we get another chance to hang out. I'm not quite done with the Aly chapter, it seems. 

- Left to Fry