Pen Pal Project, rough AF draft.

Name: Jenna Pike

Select your age bracket:

Desired Age of Pen Pal: From birth to eternity.

Vocation:

What qualities would you like in a pen pal? I suppose I’ll need someone with an appetite for the weird and unsettling, as my current situation is a bit unusual. I’m not entirely sure I believe it myself at the moment.

Describe yourself in a few sentences or less: These are the facts as I currently know them:

I am a woman (I checked).

I believe I have family, but they are not here… wherever “here” is (Oasis Springs, they tell me. Like that’s supposed to mean something). I have tried to contact them, but keep getting mailer-daemoned. Phone numbers have been disconnected. I got through once, but the man on the other end – my brother, James – said he didn’t have a sister, and hung up. I hit redial, but the phone number had been disconnected.

I live with a young boy who says his name is Mr. Eli. He is six years old, likes dinosaurs and aliens (“But not alien dinosaurs,” he tells me angrily, toys frozen mid-air in his white-knuckled fists. “The law forbids it.”), has a monster under his bed he calls “Madame”, and he is my son.

When I went to bed in my other life, I did not have a son.

Hobbies & Interests:

Would you be interested in meeting your pen pal? I’m not sure where I am, or how to get out. People that I’ve talked to have lived here their entire lives and have zero desire to leave. They can’t seem to remember the last time or occasion that someone visited them from outside of town. I feel, at this point in time, that dragging someone else in would be unwise.

Perhaps even dangerous.

Well, I doubt that’s true, but why risk it.

How many pen pals would you like? I am looking for one or two people who would be interested in joining me as I attempt to figure out what exactly I’ve managed to entangle myself in this time.

If teardrops were pennies, and heartaches were gold, I’d have all the riches my pockets could hold…

So, my oven’s dead, right?

Sucks shit and I hate my oven-less life, but until I get a new one, I bought a toaster oven so I can make complicated toast and easy bake bagels like an adult.

I haven’t made toast or bagels, yet, but I did throw away my toaster in anticipation.

Lately, I’ve been jonesing for these pizza hot pockets I used to like. I figured, what the hell, I got a toaster oven. I’m gonna go buy some fuckin pizza hot pockets. I’m gonna make my dreams come true.

The problem is, I haven’t had these things in like, 15 years. And I can’t remember which one, specifically, I liked.

I go to Safeway, anyway.

I buy some pizza hot pockets, thinking “surely one of these will be the one I liked.

15 years ago.

Back when I liked these things.”

But no.

As it turns out, the brand was probably not even hot pocket, but something Safeway no longer carries, and is probably no longer in production.

I gave my toaster oven virginity to a hot crust of lies.

Go tell Aunt Rhody…

I just love when I have a ton of ideas, but no motivation. It’s so much fun to have this kind of creative constipation. Almost as fun as ordinary constipation.

I want to start using my Angela tumblr as a dumping ground for short stories (from Angela’s POV) and random pictures around her house and Pleasantview and shit. I just gotta sit my ass down and force myself to be productive.

 But God, I’m just so lazy. So. Lazy.

My daughter is turning 6 in less than a month. Madness. It feels like only yesterday the midwife was trying to wrench my cervix open by hand… good times.

I need to start “auditioning” cupcake recipes pretty soon. Doing a Shopkins theme for some reason. Google tells me that a cupcake in a yellow wrapper with a dark turquoise frosting will suffice, which is good because I can bake just fine, but I can’t decorate for shit.

And that is life right now…