Last night, after a really, really interesting day, I found myself lying in bed, thinking about the grand scheme of things. My birthday is on Monday. I'm going to be 24. At first, I found this prospect horrifying, as being 23 and living at home and not having your shit even remotely together is one thing, but at 24 it's starting to get sad. But now I'm going to school, working what could best be described as "pre-industrial revolution hours," and researching apartments because I can't take this place any more. So there's nothing to dread about 24. I fully expect it to be awesome.
Somewhere along the line, my personal, social, and professional life became incredibly satisfying. Mostly all for the same reasons. Thank you, Preble Street. I'm meeting awesome people there, and working with great new friends. Some people are my age and I end up partying with them. That was the thing I wanted the most when I was unemployed - a social connection. And even people that I only see at work are just awesome and light me up when I come in and see them, even if it's only in passing as I relieve them of their posts.
I wish I could go back in time and visit High School Jenna. Reassure her that really, it's all gonna work out. Dudes are going to like you, chicks are going to like you, you're going to have friends, you'll drive eventually, and you'll get a job you love instead of a job that's giving you ulcers. It's the same reassurance I give to people in emotional crisis. It might not be today, it might not be next month, but's going to get better. Really. It's just a matter of faith and trying.