Jenny Seay

It's no secret that the lives of celebrities are constantly monitored. Whether they're walking down a busy street, taking their kid to the park, or even shopping for underwear, there's always some strategically placed paparazzi who captures their actions on film.

Lately I've been trying real hard to understand this phenomenon. I've flipped through various tabloids, scratching my head at pages cluttered with snapshot after snapshot of famous people at their most mundane. Jessica Simpson yaks on a cell phone! Mary Kate Olson strolls through Central Park! Brad Pitt (gulp) reads the paper! Truth be told, the day-to-day activities of Hollywood's dignitaries aren't that far removed from our own.

So I've decided to assume the delusion of celebrity status. Say I was hit with worldwide fame and fortune this instant, and the insignificant details of my life suddenly became newsworthy. Consider my typical morning...

6am Jenny's alarm clock jolts her from a tangle of blankets. She lifts her head, groans, and rolls out of bed. After smacking the snooze button she hobbles back to her blankets and repeats this process every nine minutes for the next hour and a half. (Dish: Is this a result of too much partying?)

8am A bleary-eyed Jenny emerges from her front door, fully dressed with a yellow backpack slung over one shoulder. She squints into the sun, stumbling down the steps and up the driveway. She clicks the button on her garage-door opener, waiting for the dirty white metal to roll up and back before entering the garage and throwing her bag on the passenger seat of her little orange car. (Dish: Is she leaving her boyfriend?)

8:02am Jenny backs said car into the street. Unfortunately, the garage door is no longer responding to the garage-door opener. Jenny scowls, throws the car into park, and storms up the driveway. Her gloved palm slaps the dirty white metal as she lowers it, and once the door is properly shut she stomps back toward the street. (Dish: What's causing all this rage?)

8:10am Jenny is stuck in traffic. Her car inches east on I-55, easing into the sea of slowly moving cars and trucks. Jenny scans the street, and when no openings become evident she slumps back in her seat and pops in a CD. (Dish: Has fame finally gotten to her?)

8:45am Jenny's car is merging onto North Lake Shore Drive. Her fingers tap the steering wheel, and her lips move as she sings along with whatever she's been listening to. Her posture in the seat is much straighter, and there's a smile on her face. (Dish: Is she thinking of her lover?)

8:55am With her backpack slung back over her shoulder, Jenny walks up Balbo and veers south on Michigan Avenue. She walks slowly, studying the city's bustle before stopping at the entrance of a well-known media arts college. She enters the lobby, weaving through a tangle of bodies to position herself in front of one of the functioning elevators. (Dish: Is she shoving strangers for no reason?)

8:57am Jenny exits the elevator on the twelfth floor. Ahead is the door to her office, and she opens it and settles on the purple couch in the reception area. She sits there for a few minutes, laughing and chatting with the people around her. (Dish: She smiles, but is she really happy?)

As her workday begins, she wonders if anyone will want her autograph today. Probably.

(2005-02-22)

Also by Jenny Seay

Just do it
It's a take-charge philosophy, a radical value system with independence and creativity at its core
(2004-09-14)

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