110 W. New York Ave.
DeLand, FL 32720
Jen’s Soap Box is a ratty old wooden crate I like to hop onto and pontificate.
(Well, maybe pontificate is not quite the word. “Throw hissy fits” works better. I just liked the big, fancy word.)
In person, I’m pretty no-holds-barred. If you ask me a question, be prepared for an answer you might not want to hear.
Reporting has a lot of rules. I like it. I’m working on learning all of those rules (if I conquer hyphens, I may make it as a reporter after all. Whoo hoo!).
The Soap Box is my chance to break away a little. It started off as a platform; it has evolved into something personal and intimate for me. You’re involved.
I envision you, whoever you are, lounging on a porch swing while I’m red-faced on the milk crate. In my mind, we’re teenagers trying to figure out the world. We’re gangly and awkward, putting on shows for each other, forming new ideas that shape who we will be tomorrow.
Those years are such bonding years. I think that’s why I think of us, you and I, in those age brackets. We all had those friends when we were teens. We all know why Stand By Me and The Breakfast Club made us feel squishy inside.
So, in my head, we’ve got bony knees and acne. Even when you and I grow apart, we bonded during this moment in our lives.
We’re having a conversation, you and I. That’s good stuff. I dig being able to talk to you. I’m not supposed to directly speak to you in articles, and some days, we need to talk.
Sometimes you scare me. I wonder if you’ll respect me the next day, or blow me off as a ditz or a dork. I wonder if you’ll hate my guts.
Just like in person.
But, just like in person, I don’t scare for long, so I always get back on the box.
I try to lay it all out there. Some of it is ridiculous, some is ugly, some is fun, some is too personal to be in a newspaper, and some is really good stuff.
That’s who I am.
I just dusted off my box, and I really feel like we need to talk. Or more accurately, I need to rant, and I want to know what you think about it.
Why don’t you grab an iced tea, kick off your Keds®, flop down on the porch swing and sit a minute?