Jill

(I realize titling a blog post with a single feminine name is tantalizing, but temper your expectations. As I'm wont to often warn you, this story will not be as cool as you think. But they taught us in journalism school to title things in a way to bring viewers in, and I'm trying that. Wait, did I say "journalism school?" I'm sorry, I meant to say The Newsies.)

Since I'm back in Los Angeles and taking care of myself (or at least a loose interpretation of the phrase "taking care of myself"), I don't have to worry about my parents judging me for staying up til four in the morning, then waking up at near-noon, spooning one of my pillows and staring with a vacant sadness at the seconds on my digital alarm clock, noting that the shift from 2 to 3 kinda looks like what I'd approximate numbers dancing to be like.

And since my parents can't judge me for that, I spend a lot of time doing that. Luckily, I justify it by thinking about what I should write in this blog, and today it came to me quicker than usual. Thanks, dancing numbers.

Onto the actual topic. This morning, I became acutely aware that I have never known a person named Jill in my entire life.

I don't know why this occurred to me, nor why it mattered. But for a moment, it was an earth-shattering revelation. I searched for evidence to my belief as urgently as I could--after fifteen more minutes of laying in bed and then getting a cup of coffee from the Magic Coffee Machine. Then I checked my Facebook search bar to see that, yes, people named Jillian turn up before any Jills.

And I sure as hell don't know anyone named Jillian. But that's because that's not a wholly common name. I was always under the impression that Jill was.

All of this makes one reconsider the name Jill. Did I think it was common because I had an unhealthy obsession with the video game Resident Evil as a child, and one of the characters in that game was named Jill Valentine? Or maybe I put too much stock into the popularity of the Jack and Jill story, particularly because of another childhood obsession with the song "Jump, Jive n' Wail?"

This is what happens when you give one too much time to think during the day. Simple things such as not ever knowing someone named Jill* can become an earth-shattering revelation that makes one take stock of their whole lives.

And now, I'll probably spend the rest of the day hyping up the moment I meet my first Jill. If she's not uber-attractive and also my soul-mate whom I will marry and live a happy life with, then that is going to be a major letdown.

*I'm hoping at this point in writing this that someone who reads this will inform me that I did in fact know someone named Jill my entire life, thus invalidating everything I wrote, if only because that would be a better punchline than I have written in this post.