Oops...

So I missed my first day of work...kind of. I finally talked to Halle, the manager of Anthropologie this past Sunday and she said Kristen, the other manager, was going to call me about training. Well..my friend Erin, who works there already and is Kris' cousin, sent me a text today that said - Have fun at your first day of work!

So I'm standing outside of RockHarbor and I looked down, saw the text and my heart started racing. My mind was going back and forth trying to remember the very important idea of me going to work today. I couldn't remember ever recieving a phone call. I called Erin and she said she went to the manager's office on Monday and Halle told her I was coming into work today.

Next step...I called Anthropologie.

"Hi. Is Kris, the manager, in?"
"This is she."
"Hi. This is Jenna."
"Oh, Hi Jenna!"
"Hi Kris. I just talked to Erin and she said I was expected at work today, but I never recieved a phone call."
"Oh yeah. We were, but nobody called you, so we can reschedule."
"Oh ok. I'm sorry."
"No problem. I'll let you know when we reschedule."
"Ok. Thanks!"
"Bye."

So I missed my first day of work, but as Erin later said, it wasn't my fault so I couldn't do anything about it. Oh the mishappenings of my life. Haha.

The 3 Glitch TR Incident

Nicole and I left Melissa's party with a smile on our faces ready to hit the road. The party was in Riverside so the plan was Nicole would follow me home in her car and spend the night so she wouldn't have to sit in traffic in the morning on the way to work. The plan was great and stayed the same, however, then there was the TR incident.

Shortly after we were on the 91, I realized Nicole didn't have a fast trak, however, we needed to take the toll road to get to my house. I called her and we worked out that I would drive in front of her and pay part of the toll, because she only had a $1.75. So Nicole and I proceeded to drive on the 91 until we were going to merge onto the 241 toll road. Here comes glitch numero uno.

"Um..Nicole. It says the off ramp is closed for the 241 so I'm not sure what we are going to do."
"Oh..Ok."
Relief fills my mind. "Wait, there is a detour." Some kind of heroic dun da dah music should be played here. "Follow me!"

So glitch one is resolved; we follow the detour and we are on our way. The next event isn't necessarily a glitch, but we will call it one to suffice the title. So here comes glitch numero dos. I pull up to the first toll booth and luckily there is an attendant.

Me: "The girl behind me only has $1.75 so I would like to pay for the remainder of her toll."
TR A: "Ok, then you owe $.50"
Me: "Ok." (hands money) "Thanks!"
I drive away and Nicole pulls up next.
TR A: "Do you have your $1.75?"
Nicole: "Yes" (hands money) And she's off.

So we continue to drive. Now it gets sketchy. Enter glitch numero dos. Nicole is following me and I'm driving along and then all of sudden in the corner of my eye I see another toll booth. The green and red lights flicker in the distance as my mind tries to wrap around the concept that there is another one. Oh no. I quickly cut across three lanes looking back and smile that Nicole is doing the same. I call Nicole.

"Um..so I didn't know there was another one."
"I don't have money left."
"Yeah, um..well I'll go in front and pay whatever change I have and see what it amounts to."

We drive up to the booth. There is no attendant. I begin to put pennies, dimes, nickels, anything I could find in my purse into the machine. Nicole calls.

"Hi. So far I have put in $1.67, but I don't have much left."
"Ok. I found $1.40 in my purse."
"Great. You can put in the rest. I'll pull through and you can put in what you have...oh, crap."
"What?"
"If I pull through, it will use that change for me, not my fastrak, which doesn't solve our problem at all."
"Oh no, what do we do?"
"We have to back up."

So Nicole and I began to back up. As we backed out, Nicole reads a sign to me that is posted next to the booth that says, "Backing up is illegal." Oops. So we backed out, luckily there wasn't traffic. And Nicole pulls in front ready to put in her change. Nicole calls.

"Um..Jenna. Your money is gone."
"What?"
"It took the money you had put it in."
"Oh no."
"What do we do? I don't have enough money."
I pause.
"We ask other people for change."
"Are you serious?"
"What else are we going to do?"

So I proceeded to ask some nice ladies in an SUV behind me for change. This involved me getting out of my car and going back to their car. They were very nice and generously gave Nicole and I the toll. Nicole entered the money and glitch three was resolved. I am happy to say there were only three glitches and not more. We arrived at my house safe, but I have to say not laugh free. That, people, is a story for the books.

Santa Barbara

Isla Vista to be exact. Or also called IV. Ironic considering it definitely spreads like poison ivy. It grabs hold of you the minute you rub against it and walk through the city. Why? It's the college town every movie portrays, the place you always think of when you think frat party, and the atmosphere is contagious.

The first time I went to IV, I wasn't too surprised, but still felt slightly tainted at the sight of multiple college students walking down the street with cases of beer and guys smoking hookah in lawn chairs on their front yard.

My second trip to IV was a blast...except for the fact that I had to repeat myself time and time again why I didn't want to drink. You see, this was new to me. I go to Biola - a private Christian school with a Jesus mural to boot. Biola has a contract you are required to sign if you attend the university stating you will not drink while enrolled in a class. So I signed it, because I agree with it. And I want to uphold my integrity.

A weekend ago was my third trip to IV. I was not enrolled in classes at Biola and I am now 21. I entered upon IV knowing I had no excuses to not drink. And this time, IV was like poison. It was contagious. I understood why people loved it so much. Simply put, it was fun. Everything is in walking distance – great food, Starbucks, surf shops, the beach, campus, and the liquor stores. This is not to say I did not have fun my previous times in IV, however, there was a sense of freedom.

Freedom – that is the contagious ivy that holds you down and screams I can do anything. Did I do anything that would cause me to need that much freedom? No. But that’s not the point. The point is I could have. I finally saw what college students see in this city. The ability to be free, act like an adult, but not be responsible like one. IV is a place filled with people your age. You immediately are catered to. Everywhere you are, there is someone else standing next to you that is within the same age range. You are in. You belong. The problem with ivy – it poisons you. And in this case, it makes you think something completely false.

The freedom in IV is a false truth. There is a contagious smile that creeps across the student’s faces with the freedom, but the smile is hollow and empty. There is no gold at the bottom of the beer bottle or after sex with a person you met this very night. There is nothing to keep with you until you die except empty satisfaction or a guilt you may not forget. I think it may take years for some college kids to get this. And the fact is we may be adults, but we are still kids. We have freedom, but we are still learning. Ands that’s just it; IV is a learning ground, however, it is a dark one.

However, I believe there is light somewhere in that darkness. There are smiles that are whole. And there is truth within the lines of the fallacies as sun shines through a cracked door. And one day, it will shine brighter and clearer as more kids learn in the darkness and open the door to the light. That is my hope.

E-mail.

Well, folks, I officially have another email account to join my two others. And why? Because RockHarbor decided to give me one. How cool is that?

If there is one thing RH has been good at so far, it has been making me feel like I am part of the staff. I feel as though I am not just an intern, but I am someone who is valued. And although I may be volunteering on a temporary basis, I have value to their staff and am treated like a staff member.

I do not have to get the coffee, but am offered a cup of coffee when I come in. And on top of that, I have even been shown the secret stash of the better creamers and sugars. By the time we had finished lunch, I had been ordained with a computer login and new RH email account. I feel so official. By the end of my first day, I had reviewed the entire GO campaign binder, been briefed on the heirarchy (or lack therof since everything is team), who are in which positions on staff, been introduced to anyone who came through the Green Room (Motion's office), and already began work on photos for the next issue of Motion and brainstorming themes.

And the topper, I can even check my RH email account from home on an Inside RH staff site.

Most of all, RH has given me responsibility. They trust me to do my job, but also allow me to ask questions. I feel as though I am capable of fulfilling my job responsibilties, but know I am being pushed in certain areas. I am excited, however, there is this fear in me that I will fail. That is good. It is pushing me to expand my knowledge, be prepared to learn, and prove to myself I do have a little journalistic talent, but that there is always room for more. I am excited to be scared of failing at this job. I haven't felt that in a while. And in the end, hopefully have a sense that I will succeed in this crazy world of journalism.

Anthropologie

A homeware, bedding, clothing, and jewelry store all rolled into a cultural, visually inspiring, bejeweled shopping oasis. This is Anthropologie. I fell in love with the store a year ago. I still walk in and can get lost in the store for hours easily. It simply is serendipitous. That one dish you have been dreaming about for years, the top you could never seem to find, the bedding you always wanted - is found in this store. The women the store caters to? A stylish, sophisticated, cultural, well-versed, aware woman. Can I ask you what woman does not want to be that? I certainly do.

So when I looked for a summer job since my internship doesn't pay, what other place would I want to work than a place I enjoy to be in. I, thankfully, was hired to work at this delectable store as of today. Needless to say, I look forward to working there over the next three months. If I am not able to afford the things in the store, at least I may be inspired by them!

The party continues...

Here is an update on my butterfly friends.

Today, Jeff, Sheena (the other Motion Intern), and I went to lunch and discussed the upcoming months and what they will look like...including my role at Motion.

So what is Motion? Motion is the new publication at RockHarbor Church telling God's stories and the movement of Him in this world right now and people's lives. It is a 16 page full-color news magazine. The design and content are awesome. The second issue came out this last weekend and reading through it provokes joy, awe, and a restlessness I can't explain. Each story is so delicately written to portray what the writer is feeling through the experience and shows the stories of God through the way He works in people. How do you even write that? It's something each of these writer's and hopefully I will be continually learning to do. It has no other description than amazing.

So what is my role at Motion? To be the Production Editor. I am stoked about this. I was the Production Editor at The Chimes for the past two years, and this is a whole new take on a position I am experienced in. I also get to work closely with the designers and the photo team which excites me. I love design and photography, and of course working with people. I think I will be helping with organizing communication which it sounds like there is somewhat of a lack of in some areas of production...such as calling the printers a half hour before they are going to print. I think The Chimes printers would kill us!

So to say the least - I am thrilled to be working with a great group of people on something that will hopefully have the same affect on readers as it did on me - a joy, awe, and restlessness. A joy in hearing God's movement. An awe of Him and how He works. A restlessness to be a part of His greater story and where I fit into that.

The butterflies are restless.

Tammy: A New Friend

I pulled up to the Red Persimmon Nail Salon and stepped out. I normally frequented the nail salon closer to home, but a friend of mine told me the Red Persimmon place was nice. I walked in and was whisked away to a comfortable spa chair after picking out an orangey-coral color – perfect for summer.

After the pampering began, I rested my head back. One girl worked on my toes and another soon came to work on my in-need-of-desperate-help fingernails. I glanced at the girl working on my fingers and she kindly asked, “How are you?” in broken English. I responded “Good.” She nodded and unless she asked another question, I suspected that would be the end of our conversation. Without her knowing English, and I not knowing where she was even from, the idea of a conversation seemed lost.

Moments later, the woman working on my toes asked if I wanted some sort of treatment and pointed to my heels. Apparently, I have calloused feet. I also am in need of a great deal of waxing by her account as well. “On-y five dollar,” the girl restated. I glanced at my mom and she nodded the okay. I agreed and the next minute my feet were being tickled by a purple pumice stone. The girl working on my fingers asked me if it tickled. It took me asking her to repeat herself twice before I understood. I nodded yes. In my mind I thought, if these women come to America and live here, how do they not see the necessity to learn English? I had often wondered this before. I rolled this over in my head for a few minutes and decided to find out. I decided to strike up a conversation with the girl working on my finger nails. She looked like she was similar in age to me.

“What is your name?” I asked.
“Tammy. What is yours?” she asked.

And from there I began to learn about Tammy’s life through much repetition of sentences on both parts and moving closer as if that would help me understand the broken English better. Here is what I did find out.

Tammy is 23 and lives in Anaheim. She moved here two years ago after marrying her husband in Vietnam. He lived in America for 15 years, returned to Vietnam, married Tammy and brought her back with him. Tammy had studied accounting for two years at a university in Vietnam, however, once she moved to America she had to work. She has dreams of studying more, but can’t at this point in time. At one point in our conversation, Tammy apologized for any mistakes in her English. I waved it away with stating I didn’t know any Vietnamese. I asked if her husband was fluent in English. She said yes, but explained there wasn’t much time for him to teach her any English and it was easier for them to speak their native language to one another. Tammy then said she didn’t have any friends here either. She asked if I would be her friend. I immediately smiled and said yes. I felt honored that she would want to befriend me for some reason. She asked if I could come back and we could talk more like this and that way she would learn more English as well. I happily obliged.
I don’t believe I am singled out in my thoughts of why immigrants do not learn English when they come to America. In fact, I am positive that I have heard friends ask this repeatedly. The truth is most immigrants do not have a place to learn English. There is no one to teach them or speak to them in English on a regular basis for them to learn.

I still believe it is a necessity for American citizens to know English, whether immigrant or not, however there is truth in Tammy’s story. I studied French for four years in America and never became fluent because I simply didn’t have anyone to converse with in French. I believe it is important for immigrants to seek out someone to speak with in English to learn the language, however, what is the role of the American government in this? Why are there not mandatory English classes for immigrants, or some type of course for immigrants to take? Tammy simply didn’t have anyone to teach her English or at least did not have the time since had to work to live in America's economy.

As Americans, we are also blessed with living in such a culturally diverse arena. Why don’t more of us take time to talk to people like Tammy? To help them learn English, become more accustomed with America. Why don’t we invest in immigrants in a way to invest into our country learning more about other cultures and helping them learn more about ours?

Double Fudge Chocolate Brownie

A friend of mine recently said he was sad because life is quite clearly a double fudge chocolate brownie, and we focus on how fattening that is.

If there was anyone who looked at life as a double fudge chocolate brownie, it was my Grandmother. And let me tell you, she never focused on how fattening brownies – or any type of chocolate was – for that matter. She embarked upon every adventure in her life with enthusiasm and optimism. She had a strong soul and lived a healthy, audacious life. As my Dad’s cousin stated, “She was a strong old bird.” And that she was. She flew through life with steadiness and courage, taking it in and never forgetting to look at every hue a flower’s petal held or reading every piece of literature in sight.

She consumed life like it was chocolate and held it dear to her heart. I'll never forget driving home with her a year ago and I put in Rihanna's CD. She and I danced for an entire song. I was half in shock I was dancing with my 92 year old Grandmother and half realized; that was just Grandma.

Her uplifting smile and laugh made me admire her strength and devotion to uplifting God. My Grandma’s two daughters both passed away at a young age, and she outlived all her friends and husband, yet she had marched on with a smile. The only explanation for her living so long is her optimistic life and eyes to the Lord. So at a ripe age of 93, she passed, and I will miss her dearly, but I will never forget her devotion and adventurous, joyous life. She has inspired me to live a similar life; devoted to the Lord and not scared to try that double fudge chocolate brownie life.

Evelyn Bartlo: I love this picture of her. She is beautiful.

A New Kind of Party

"Hi. Jenna?"
"This is she."
"Hi. This is Jeff from RockHarbor."
"Hi Jeff!"
"I have some bad news for you."
"Ok..." My stomach just did a flip.
"Well...You are going to have to get to know all of us in the Communications department at RockHarbor over the next couple months."
At this point of the conversation the voice inside my head was screaming, "Yes! Yes! Yes!", and if I hadn't been in the grocery store, I would have been jumping up and down.
I laughed and said, "I think I can handle that."
"Great, because we would love to have you as part of the team here if you are still interested.." and so went the convo.

I got the internship! I am so stoked! Now the butterflies are flying in excitement and I am partying with them. I start this next week with orientation to learn their expectations and my role as an intern. Amidst the turmoil going on at home and working everything out for my Grandmother's funeral, this was great news!

ps. I will send an update on how my new friends - the butterflies, are doing after Thursday.

Butterflies

Since attending college, I have interviewed for 9 different jobs or positions on campus and off campus. My first interview was to be a SOS leader. I was nervous. My palms were sweaty, my stomach felt slightly twisted, and I was praying with all my might that I wouldn't say something stupid. However, I walked out confident and after being rejected at first was then accepted to be a leader.

According to my butteflies once again, I was nervous for the next interviews I had, which subsequently one was for SOS Director, but felt as though I could trust God to guide me through. As I walked through the interviews and application processes over the past years, I received some of the positions I applied for and didn't receive some as one would have it. However, one thing I did receive after attending the first interview and each thereafter was a higher sense of confidence. I felt as though I had heard as many interview questions one could ever hear and was well prepared to answer them. I stumbled every once in a while, but was able to pick my words back up and keep going.

Well, yesterday would mark my 10th interview since being at college. The interview was for an internship at RockHarbor Church. And for the first time since that first interview, I was nervous. My hands weren't sweaty, but I definitely felt those butterflies. I walked into the interview and was followed by three young men who worked at RockHarbor. It was probably one of the most laidback interviews I have ever been in. Each of the guys was wearing t-shirts, jeans and flip flops — my normal attire. For the interview though, I had dressed in a trendy, but professional dress and heels. I immediately felt out of character, but was reassured by their relaxed behavior it wouldn't matter.

However, as laid back as the interview was, for the first time since that SOS interview, I could not kick the butterflies out. I left the interview and immediately began thinking over every little thing I said, trying to remember when I rambled and what they smiled at and didn't smile at for that matter. I still have butterflies as I write about it right now. The funny thing is I've felt more prepared to do every other position I've applied for whether or not I had experience. The position at RH is a journalism position, something I have been training to do for the past three years, and I feel as though I'm not capable of doing it. The irony of the whole situation is quite hilarious when I have a chance to subside the butterflies. I'm even half tempted to take an internship in Georgia I was offered, because I'm scared to know whether or not I got the internship at RH. Is this a question of faith in myself or just the fact that I deeply feel called to the internship at RH?

On a lighter note, I can't wait to find out, so the butterflies can party elsewhere.

Chimes Nights Continued

So I wrote the following paragraph on the night I officially took over as Editor-in-Chief of The Chimes newspaper. It was saved in my blog drafts until now, since it has redeemed itself to be current news with my current situation.

A month ago in the office:
It is 4:50 am in the morning. I am currently at work still. I was called back to the office by the printers whom informed me that our PDF files didn't "go through." Well..they had gone through, however, unfortunately for me, the man working isn't computer savvy enough or willing to look for them in the folder I uploaded them to. Him nor I are in a great mood at 4:50 in the morning. Him more than I, so here I am, back at the office about to fall asleep over the key pad and waiting for the pages to go through a second time. And all I can think about are those status bars on facebook that say where you are. Mine continually reads "Jenna is...wondering why she took a job that may require her to stay awake until 5 am some nights."

Now in my kitchen at home:
It is now summer and I am currently wondering why I am at home at 12:30 am working on Associated Collegiate Press (ACP) contest entries instead of out with friends. My status bar reads "Jenna is...wondering why she took a job that requires her to work this late during the summer."

However, in my imaginary world of second status bars, the second one reads "Jenna is...excited for The Chimes to hopefully win awards next year and improve in the collegiate journalism world."

The second status bar would be why I took a job like this...and I should probably also count in the fact that I am crazy.

Maddy and MJ: Two New Joys

This weekend was a tearful one. My grandmother passed away this past week, however, as God would have it; we got two surprises. We went to Fresno to make arrangements for the funeral and stayed in my Grandmother's house as we have many times. The neighbors continued to stop by the house and tell us how much they loved her. One of the neighbors came over and informed us she had two maincoon kittens. We went to visit them and fell in love, and as you guessed, we brought them home with us. These are our two new joys: Madeleine (Maddy) and Mary Jane (MJ).


Maddy and MJ in their new bed.


Feeding Madeleine.


How cute is she?


I'm in love...


Holding the lovelies. Maddy (left) and MJ (right).