My Secret Mall Mission

I decided to go to the mall today. I hate malls. I hate them. But I thought that the least I could do was go inside and see what it was like, if it was similar to other malls I’ve been to, nicer, cleaner, maybe more fancy or maybe abandoned. I made it a few steps into the JC Penny before I felt myself growing weary. The first store outside of the JC Penny was a frozen yogurt place, which I stopped at, obviously. After paying for my frozen yogurt, I found the closest exit and went back to my vehicle. Because I hate malls, and I do not care in the least what the interior of that mall looked like. See, I knew all along there was a frozen yogurt place in the mall, and my plan was to stumble along, passively interested in my surroundings, until I happened upon my true destination. And as providence would have it, that only took about 3 minutes of having to endure the mall.

The invention of malls dates back to prehistoric times, when they used to bore people to their literal deaths. No, I’m kidding, I have no idea when malls became a thing. I think the only redeemable quality to malls are those people with their movable carts who physically assault you to get you to try their products. I once had a guy just grab my hand and start rubbing lotion on it, and he really believed this stuff was revolutionary. I went along with it, because who am I to crush a dream?

Anyway, I haven’t blogged in a few days so I thought I’d just say something, anything. I hope I have something more interesting to say tomorrow. I’m thinking about going to graduate school, to get a masters! Which is such a strange thing to even consider because I swear I was just like, 7 years old, living in Texas, attending my Dad’s ceremony where he was getting his masters. Time flies. What’s another cliche for time? Maybe I should come up with one. Time usually goes the speed limit, but sometimes, its wife is in labor in the front seat and has to get to its destination much quicker.

No, no that was terrible. I have the need for speed, I realize, is a weird thing to say because isn’t speed a drug too?


Should I Get A Cat That Tastes Like Salted Caramel?

I’m enjoying this “Salted Caramel” phase that American food is going through right now. It’s delicious, may it never end. May no one ever make a documentary about it, and if they do, may I be one of those people who choose to live in denial about it’s truths, much like SeaWorld has done over Blackfish. If Orca’s tasted like Salted Caramel ice cream, I’m not sure what I would do. Yeah, I know, people are eating Orca’s, they’re just chaining them up in figurative basements and only bringing them out to do tricks for treats, but whatever. You get the joke. I’d be conflicted because this whole paragraph has been about my loyalty to anything that tastes like Salted Caramel. (See? Even treating it like a proper noun.)

Anyway, I slept till one today. I woke up earlier than usual, so I had to make myself go back to sleep and boy when I did, it was like falling into a coma. I haven’t slept that hard since I moved here. I think my body is finally accepting my new life. Nearly three weeks later, but hey, better late than never. And just so you know, I work evenings, so my sleeping till one is perfectly acceptable. Cast your judgement elsewhere.

I use coconut oil for my hair (I majored in transitional sentences in college, can you tell?) and I’m wondering if it’s one of those things that is too good to be true. I mean, people rave about coconut oil, like just being around it will eradicate all that ails you and your children and your children’s children. Granted, it does make my hair soft… I think. Or is that some kind of psychological placebo affect? Did I get too much sleep today?

I should probably get ready for work. Last night, I think I aged myself about fifteen years from the stress of trying to make a deadline. I’m still learning how to be speedy and efficient at this new job and trying not to be too hard on myself when I’m not a whiz at it. You know, college really prepares you for how to get a job, but they say nothing about what to do when you actually get it. There should really be some kind of course about how to go from excelling in college to actually using the things you learned in a professional setting. And how to undo the learned behavior of having to seek the approval of a superior before feeling like you executed a task correctly. Adapting to a professional life when you’ve only ever been a student is a strange new world, and I would’ve liked to learn more about that than how many craters are on the moon or the proper way to stretch my hamstrings.

Anyway. Learning how to be a real grownup is a fun challenge. Hey, do you guys think paying $25 extra a month for a cat is worth it? I need an apartment companion. I know no one is actually going to get this far or tell me what they think but there you have it. A question.

The Wrath of A Thousand Feminists Be On Your Head

Women, women, women. Women. Love you guys (haha, see what I did there?). Some of my best friends are ladies. But I have a bone to pick with you all. Women have this way of talking to each other or about each other in a universal way. “Us ladies, you know how we are, we love our…” So on and so forth. You know the drill. Guys still do it because we still do it. I think, fellow females, that it’s time for us to start speaking for ourselves, speaking as individuals. The only time we should speak of ourselves as a unit is when we talk about equality or sexual harassment issues. Or maybe pregnancy, or other things very specific to all women that for sure only women ever have to deal with (though again, not all women enjoy openly discussing such matters, even with other women ahem ahem. Take that as you will folks).

Anyway, what I’m talking about is the fluffy women things that apparently all women do. As much as we gab on about how women should be individuals and have a voice and be who they wanna be, that still hasn’t penetrated our thinking, not truly. Because I have had girls get upset with me because I refuse to wear makeup or heels. (Talking to you sisters!) I do try more when it comes to how I dress (I try, really hard people), but when it comes to makeup and heels, it ain’t gonna happen. I’m sorry, but if that is the requirement for man-catching, I’m gonna have to fetch me a blind man. I do not want to spend any time in the mornings rubbing chemicals on my face. No shade to the people that do, ya’ll look beautiful, really, inside and out. But it’s not the path for Janelle. When I picture myself in heels, all I can do is laugh. It’s a hilarious visual, if you know me at all.

Also shopping. Unless there is a specific purpose to the shopping trip, I do not want to participate. Just walking around the store? Looking at stuff I can’t afford? For what? I’ve learned that sometimes you just have to do what your friends need you to do, but most people I’m good friends with know I would just ruin their shopping experience if they asked me to do that. I get very childish because I hate it so much. Maybe I still have some maturing to do.

Anyway, these things have been on my soul for many moons. Listen here, women, if we are really about equality and individualism and all that, stop making Janelle feel bad for not being “girly” enough. I’ve already been told I’m not black enough, and now my only other card of oppression, being a girl, is being taken away from me?! I won’t stand for it. I will call down the wrath of a thousand Sarah Palin’s on you for this grievance. I can still be a girl without wanting to talk about makeup, or clothes. There’s more to us than that!

Okay, sorry, it just needed to be said. To all the girls that enjoy that stuff you are still awesome, because you are you. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for it! (But hopefully you also know how to change a tire or something). Equality, march on.

Eventually This Sentence Will End So

It’s really disheartening how flippant some Seventh-day Adventists can be towards environmental concerns or animal rights. Many of us are vegetarian, and yet when it comes to fair treatment of animals, creatures God took time to create just like He did us, we really don’t seem to care. I’ve heard people say “well God’s just going to destroy the Earth anyway.” !!! People have said that! As if the eventuality of the Earth’s destruction gives us the right to not care about how it’s treated. Sure, we can’t go tear down factories pumping pollutants into the air, but we can do what we can to bring awareness, or at least within our own homes do our best to make individual decisions.

Eventually, you’re going to die. Should you kill yourself now? Eventually someone is going to give your kid a black eye, so go ahead and punch him/her and get it over with. Eventually your car is going to stop working, so just go drive into the side of a building. You might as well be using that kind of logic.

Sometimes I think Christians are afraid to have passions outside of religious or spiritual things because they think they’re worshiping those passions instead of God. But why did He make us emotional, social beings if He didn’t want us to care about the things He gave us?

Anyway, that’s a thought I had and you’re supposed to blog your thoughts. There’s some kind of millennial manual that says that… somewhere. Probably in the same place where it says, “If someone over 35 mentions Twitter or Facebook in real life, acknowledge it. They want you to know they “get you.” Let them have this. You’ll be them one day.”

Hunger Games in Apartment B

I have spent my last free dime, and now the rest of my funds will be allocated to paying rent, electric, internet and car insurance bills. This means that it is time to get creative in the kitchen. Operation “eat everything in the pantry” has commenced. (The woes of starting a new job in the middle of a pay period.) This will be a challenge, since I don’t have a lot of food, but anything is possible with God, amen?

This morning, I had a sandwich with vegenaise, tomatoes and slices of carrot. Maybe it’s the hunger, but it was actually really good! My mind has been trained to believe that a sandwhich isn’t complete without cheese and some kind of (vegetarian) meat. But a simple sandwich such as this was pleasing to my tastebuds. I’m also boiling some lentils, God’s favorite bean, and then I’ll have that with some rice. See? This isn’t so bad! Now, once these hearty foods run out, I might have to survive on a diet of popcorn with vegan butter, but listen, people have survived much worse.

Wish me success on my quest.

Janelle, The Overly Critical

I’m learning that being my own worst critic can be more of a hinderance than a help. In my mind, if I can’t get something done perfectly the first or second time, I have failed and should move on to the next thing. Every job I’ve ever had has been fairly easy, part time work that takes maybe a day to completely understand. And now, here I am at my first full-time job, applying that same logic. Which is ridiculous. I haven’t even worked a full seven days at this new job and I’m already beating myself up for not knowing everything and doing it exactly right or being masterfully efficient.

One of my co-workers gave me the old “don’t beat yourself up you’ll get it” pep talk, which was effective in it’s own way, but won’t work till I actually believe it. I have no patience with myself, but now I have to learn to. Because this job is going to take more than a week, two, or even three weeks to completely wrap my head around. Which isn’t a bad thing (I’m learning). Time can be your friend if you let it.

So I’m trying to commit things to memory, write down little notes I get back about what I did wrong and how to fix it for next time. And I’m going to (try) and stop making myself feel like I’m not smart because I’m not a master in six days.

I hope you have enjoyed this public pep talk to myself. Good day.

Tables and Microwaves and the Underground Railroad

I just had a very bizarre dream that ended with a bunch of guys, who claimed to be using the Underground Railroad, bringing shrooms and alcohol into my apartment in the middle of the night. I don’t know what this means. I don’t even know what psychedelic mushrooms look like.


This post is dedicated to the two-woman superhero team comprised of Kelsey C and her mother Denise. Not only did they become my first visitors, but they took me on my first non-work, non-errand, non-chipotle adventure outside of my apartment. It was wonderful. But the best part was the table and microwave they brought me, along with sage life advice on ways to adult. If you do not know these people, I feel bad for you son. (If you guys are reading this, your gift will be used responsibly, I promise. I’ve already maxed out my Chipotle allowance for March!)

As the kids say these days, HASHTAGBLESSED.

With the exit of my favorite superheros, my quest to become a grownup has been renewed. Now that I know what my day to day schedule will be like and I’ve given myself the first week to adjust, I know now what I must do. I have given myself a temporary life schedule, to be adjusted as friends are made (FINGERS CROSSED GUYS) and hopefully the one person (maybe) who reads this will keep me accountable. Because one of my major life goals has finally come to fruition (get a real job), I can now work on the little goals that I’ve had to sideline.

Did I mention that I have a dining room table and a microwave now? Oh blessed, sweet holy victory. Thank you again to the mom and daughter duo of the century. Ya’ll the bomb dot com.