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Image of the quote is loading... SaveSave I got home a little after seven, but didn’t feel hungry. Instead, I crawled into my pajamas and pulled out my Jimmy Stewart movie It’s a Wonderful Life. I fixed myself a cup of herbal tea and settled in for the night. Normally, I’d save such a classic movie for the holidays, when I tended to feel sorry for myself, but today’s need felt urgent. If Jimmy was able to accept that he had a wonderful life, maybe I could, too. - Quote by J.C. Patrick

I got home a little after seven, but didn’t feel hungry. Instead, I crawled into my pajamas and pulled out my Jimmy Stewart movie It’s a Wonderful Life. I fixed myself a cup of herbal tea and settled in for the night. Normally, I’d save such a classic movie for the holidays, when I tended to feel sorry for myself, but today’s need felt urgent. If Jimmy was able to accept that he had a wonderful life, maybe I could, too.

J.C. Patrick
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I'm overweight, despise change, and rarely, if ever, initiate anything. Unlike my friends, I’ve had no drama in my life which might qualify as box office material. If a little more drama came my way, however, I would probably need to purchase some courage in order to withstand it. Oh well, if a bit of change equals a bit of drama, I’m willing to risk it.
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Professional is an apt definition for me, professional slouch, that is. I can be very professional at seeming to do work, but the real work is trying to do as little as possible, without getting caught by Trip or any nosey busybodies.
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After a few more minutes of daydreaming about how fabulous I could become, I look down at the heading on my paper: Janey's Reinvention Plan. It appears lonely at the top of the page. I should probably add some bullets beneath, but I've never been much of a list maker.
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I sneak quietly up the stairs and toward my door. It’s not very late, but I don’t want to arouse Cyclops Eye next door. I’ve stopped looking as I walk past, but it’s difficult not to notice her window open just a few inches and her sitting right next to it, ready at a moment’s notice to give me her big one-eyed look. Maybe I should get her a monocle for Christmas, so she can make more of a statement.
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He stares at me, not saying a word. I stare right back, lost in his eyes and determined to get my point across. If he wants to have a staring contest, he’ll lose, hands down. I know a good thing when I see it.
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I took a couple steps away from him and stopped in front of a framed colored poster of Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable from the movie Gone with the Wind. I studied the pair, Gable with his mysterious mustache and Leigh in her red ball gown. I’d become a fan of the classic, partially because of my mother’s suggestion that I looked a lot like a younger Vivien Leigh, with my dark wavy hair and sea green eyes. And as usual, I’d believed her for a little while.
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My mother had tried to fool me into thinking I was a natural beauty, and I’d believed her for a little while, that is, until I moved to the land of beautiful people.
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My life was full of drama, with the highs and lows of Tyler’s daily mood swings and my private innuendos with Vandenberg. There’d never been a movie made that could permanently shift my mood away from my disappointment with myself.
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