“You could get adderall prescribed to you. Just tell the doctor everything you just told me about your life,” Jess says.
"You mean, how I'm dating a bunch of guys and it's obvious it won't work out with any of them?"
"Among other things."
"What else should I say?"
“That you go through cities like most people go through Christmas trees. And that you like to imagine yourself as Hunter S. Thompson running around Las Vegas.”
“I see.”
I take a hit of my bowl.
“I could really use an adderall script, you know? Nothing like a little amphetamine salt to get the juices flowing.” I’m stoic about my disability.
“It would also make it easier to clean my room.”
My room is awful. I move a banana peel on to a plate and place it on top of a pizza box beside the bed.
Jess tells me that she’s one of the top 20 in the nation in her group for her job as a Financial Advisor. Where she’s one of the only women. Yay, women!
I, now, never have to learn to manage my own financial situation - assuming one day there will be a financial situation to manage. Jess is going to do it for me. :-)
From the time of graduation, my best friend Jess has been grinding it out, making connections, like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
The yin to my yang, I got broken up with and moved to Vegas to follow my he(art), and Jess moved in with her long time lawyer boyfriend and his dog and she got a real job.
Jess is super smart.
The first time I met her we were in an honors anthropology class that was impossible. The tests were ridiculously difficult. It was like learning an entirely new language in a few short weeks.
Australopithecus Afarensis, indeed.
We got our first test back.
Usually, I’m an expert test taker. The adrenalin rush of being tested gives my brain joygasms and it performs at this heightened level.
I’m a nerd, I love tests, and I am not ashamed.
So, I get my test back and it’s a 64%. NOT OKAY.
I know I had been drinking last night, but that was only because a new bar had opened on the walk home from my classes, and it was empty after my classes, and the bartender was cute, and funny, and gave me free drinks.
It wasn’t my fault.
So I’m pissed about my test score.
I look a row over and this super fine blonde lady has a 94%, and a SMILEY FACE, AND the notation, “GREAT JOB!”
Later, in our life together, Jess would complain to me that the 6% was deducted unfairly and that there had been nothing wrong with her essay section.
The professor just hadn’t been confronted with this sort of brain before – his ego couldn’t take it.
I am sad.
I write in pen, “Great job!” on my paper…
It doesn't feel the same when I write it..
It doesn't feel the same when I write it..
“She’s better than me!” I realize.
“I must make her my friend!”
The last day of class we finally speak.
“Oh man,” Jess says, “I’ve got to study for this Portuguese final.”
“Portuguese? I happen to be fluent in Portuguese.”
“Oh really!?” Jess is impressed with me.
I’m so in.
“Yes, yes. I was a high school exchange student in Brazil for a year. Learned through immersion. No big deal…”
Jess is definitely going to be my best friend. It’s fate. Why else would she be studying the one language that makes me seem cool?
We don’t make plans.
Suddenly, the following quarter she’s in two of my classes! And apparently works out at the RPAC the same times I do!
Like I said, fate intervened.
Now Jess and I are best friends. <3
An entire college senior year of some of the most fun night and days of my life was to follow. :-)
I LOVE JESS HUGHES!
So
Happy Birthday, Jess!!
Whenever it’s your birthday!
And get Skype! So we can talk in real time! I just tried it yesterday and it’s awesome!
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