I was waay on the other side, which tells you how big it was...
Of course I piled my crap on it as soon as I walked in the door!
Oh, how I miss my cushy hotel bed! Not to mention the daily maid service...
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
I Almost Forgot, yet again
The infamous bed from the Marriott in North Carolina.
I was waay on the other side, which tells you how big it was...
Of course I piled my crap on it as soon as I walked in the door!
Oh, how I miss my cushy hotel bed! Not to mention the daily maid service...
I was waay on the other side, which tells you how big it was...
Of course I piled my crap on it as soon as I walked in the door!
Oh, how I miss my cushy hotel bed! Not to mention the daily maid service...
First in a Series of Music-Related Posts
If I had to describe myself as a culmination of songs, I think it'd a plucky mix of these little ditties:
"She's a Rebel" (Green Day)
She sings a revolution
The dawning of our lives
She brings a liberation
That I just can't define
"Dirty Diana" (Michael Jackson)
She likes the boys in the band
She knows when they come to town
Every musician's fan
After the curtain comes down
"Hey There Delilah" (The Plain White T's)
Hey there Delilah
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do,
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
"Comfortable" (John Mayer)
I love your
Gray sweatpants
No makeup
So perfect
"City Love" (John Mayer)
I've got city love
I found it in [Lucky]
And I can't remember
Life before her name
I could go on and on, into categories like "what Lucky's like in love," or "how Lucky lives her life." Hell, I could do a whole section dedicated to Michael Jackson alone (Girl/when you dance/there's a magic/that must be love). But for now I'll start with these. And of course, no song list describing Princess Lucky cannot be complete without this:
"Shawty right there is a 10."
LOL. What song describes you?
"She's a Rebel" (Green Day)
She sings a revolution
The dawning of our lives
She brings a liberation
That I just can't define
"Dirty Diana" (Michael Jackson)
She likes the boys in the band
She knows when they come to town
Every musician's fan
After the curtain comes down
"Hey There Delilah" (The Plain White T's)
Hey there Delilah
What's it like in New York City?
I'm a thousand miles away
But girl tonight you look so pretty
Yes you do,
Times Square can't shine as bright as you
"Comfortable" (John Mayer)
I love your
Gray sweatpants
No makeup
So perfect
"City Love" (John Mayer)
I've got city love
I found it in [Lucky]
And I can't remember
Life before her name
I could go on and on, into categories like "what Lucky's like in love," or "how Lucky lives her life." Hell, I could do a whole section dedicated to Michael Jackson alone (Girl/when you dance/there's a magic/that must be love). But for now I'll start with these. And of course, no song list describing Princess Lucky cannot be complete without this:
"Shawty right there is a 10."
LOL. What song describes you?
Monday, April 28, 2008
What a Relief
Today was a day for the gods! (LOL inside joke)
God was truly on my side today (well, he always is); 'twas pretty much a fabulous day. And by that I mean nothing bad happened, and things that could have been bad actually turned out great. I missed lunch (again) to work on the Ren Lit project, on which Sistah Girl and I got great feedback from. Considering I'd spend most of the night and most of this morning working on it, I was super-glad that we were able to rock out with our cocks out--so to speak--on this project. Be that as it may, though, I can't keep missing meals, it makes my tummy poke out weirdly, like I have coke bloat, a la Amy Winehouse. Not a good look.
My next Shakespeare paper is on Venus and Adonis, the tale of the goddess of love's attempt to attract the attention of her desired: an adolescent boy. He has no interest whatsoever in her. Should be good. I listened to Usher's "Confessions" this afternoon while I researched it. I forgot how much I liked that CD. "That's What it's Made For," anyone?
I even worked out today. My body screamed in protest at first, reminding me that it's not meant to gorge on cookies and sleep in. I was sprawled practically spread-eagle on the floor for a minute there...I know I've said this before but I really like my legs. My cheerleading nickname was "Praying Mantis" 'cause I had the longest legs on the team, lol. Oww. Cue body screaming in protest again. Damn I need a massage or sumthin' or tomorrow I'll be bedridden. And not in a good way.
Sidenote: Top Chef, if your paper's not done by Tuesday, I'll make good on my threat to beat you senseless with that loaf of bread. Be forewarned! :)
If all goes well I should be in bed early tonight. And by speaking it, I've just sentenced myself to staying up until 2am. If I do, I'll be productive, I've still got to watch "One Tree Hill," "Gossip Girl" and "The Game." And a new episode of "The Hills" comes on tonight. Staying on top of the gems of television is a lot to do on a regular basis. But for the sake of sophistication, I will press on.
God was truly on my side today (well, he always is); 'twas pretty much a fabulous day. And by that I mean nothing bad happened, and things that could have been bad actually turned out great. I missed lunch (again) to work on the Ren Lit project, on which Sistah Girl and I got great feedback from. Considering I'd spend most of the night and most of this morning working on it, I was super-glad that we were able to rock out with our cocks out--so to speak--on this project. Be that as it may, though, I can't keep missing meals, it makes my tummy poke out weirdly, like I have coke bloat, a la Amy Winehouse. Not a good look.
My next Shakespeare paper is on Venus and Adonis, the tale of the goddess of love's attempt to attract the attention of her desired: an adolescent boy. He has no interest whatsoever in her. Should be good. I listened to Usher's "Confessions" this afternoon while I researched it. I forgot how much I liked that CD. "That's What it's Made For," anyone?
I even worked out today. My body screamed in protest at first, reminding me that it's not meant to gorge on cookies and sleep in. I was sprawled practically spread-eagle on the floor for a minute there...I know I've said this before but I really like my legs. My cheerleading nickname was "Praying Mantis" 'cause I had the longest legs on the team, lol. Oww. Cue body screaming in protest again. Damn I need a massage or sumthin' or tomorrow I'll be bedridden. And not in a good way.
Sidenote: Top Chef, if your paper's not done by Tuesday, I'll make good on my threat to beat you senseless with that loaf of bread. Be forewarned! :)
If all goes well I should be in bed early tonight. And by speaking it, I've just sentenced myself to staying up until 2am. If I do, I'll be productive, I've still got to watch "One Tree Hill," "Gossip Girl" and "The Game." And a new episode of "The Hills" comes on tonight. Staying on top of the gems of television is a lot to do on a regular basis. But for the sake of sophistication, I will press on.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Mexico is Where I'm Headed
If I don't get my work done, that is. Because then I will surely fail out of school for lack of caring. 'Cause at this moment, I really don't. Care, that is. My project is due tomorrow and for some reason I cannot seem to muster up the energy to buckle down and like, be productive.
Roommate and I both have work to do, but we are currently eating takeout and watching the Mavericks take on the Hornets. The Pistons won, by the way. It was touch and go for a whole half, but we buckled down and victory was OURS! I'm wearing my sweatshirt, too. I may Facebook message Mr. Tall, just to rub it in his face.
Speaking of Facebook, another guy from the past has recently made a comeback. We had a random Facebook affair awhile back, and the addition of that chatting-thing has made it easier for him to stroll back into my life. 'Twas too much. God is giving me a lot to deal with lately. The vacation did me good, though. My mind is a little clearer.
Of course when I got back in town Saturday night I hung out with Top Chef. He's that friend who, over a Heiniken,* gives you the advice that you don't really want to hear but know that it's good for you. It totally comes out of love, though; TC has my back for real, of that I am sure. He's down for it. Now the only question is figuring out what to do. It should be a no-brainer but when it comes to things like this, there's no such thing as a no-brainer, at least for me, anyway.
*Jose's still in the lead, but Heiny's the best beer I've had so far. The Boy still had to finish it for me, though. Waste not, and all that.
Usually I could babble on and on about dating and stuff like that, but I have been rendered speechless. And that is a rare feat, as I think we know. It feels like I'm being tested. Watched.
It wasn't like this with the Runner. I walked away from him no problem. I didn't really like him in that way, you know? There was no attraction. I couldn't imagine kissing him. At all, for any reason. We danced around each other, pretending to flirt, feigning attraction. Now while the real thing is, decidedly, better, it's also harder when you actually do give a damn. You don't know when to walk away. You never want to.
Turn off the lights
And turn off the shyness
'Cause all of our moves
Make up for the silence
Fall Out Boy's "From Under the Cork Tree" is like, the story of my life right now. Seriously, this CD is like the soundtrack for how I conduct my business. Especially "Of All the Gin Joints in the World," "7 Minutes in Heaven," and "Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year":
I swear I'd burn the city down to show you the lights...
Anyways. Like I said, the Pistons won tonight so I'm using that as a barometer for my week. As of right now I have nothing too serious planned. School's almost over, which is so hard to believe. It seems like I just got here. Ahh, summer. Can't get here fast enough. I want to do something crazy.
PS--In my current state, even the takeout delivery guy looked kind of hot. Motown Lover suggested I get a male escort and call it a day. Or night, as the case may be. But that's where (for now, at least), I draw the line. If I'm willing to pay for sex, I clearly have bigger issues than perpetual horniness.
Roommate and I both have work to do, but we are currently eating takeout and watching the Mavericks take on the Hornets. The Pistons won, by the way. It was touch and go for a whole half, but we buckled down and victory was OURS! I'm wearing my sweatshirt, too. I may Facebook message Mr. Tall, just to rub it in his face.
Speaking of Facebook, another guy from the past has recently made a comeback. We had a random Facebook affair awhile back, and the addition of that chatting-thing has made it easier for him to stroll back into my life. 'Twas too much. God is giving me a lot to deal with lately. The vacation did me good, though. My mind is a little clearer.
Of course when I got back in town Saturday night I hung out with Top Chef. He's that friend who, over a Heiniken,* gives you the advice that you don't really want to hear but know that it's good for you. It totally comes out of love, though; TC has my back for real, of that I am sure. He's down for it. Now the only question is figuring out what to do. It should be a no-brainer but when it comes to things like this, there's no such thing as a no-brainer, at least for me, anyway.
*Jose's still in the lead, but Heiny's the best beer I've had so far. The Boy still had to finish it for me, though. Waste not, and all that.
Usually I could babble on and on about dating and stuff like that, but I have been rendered speechless. And that is a rare feat, as I think we know. It feels like I'm being tested. Watched.
It wasn't like this with the Runner. I walked away from him no problem. I didn't really like him in that way, you know? There was no attraction. I couldn't imagine kissing him. At all, for any reason. We danced around each other, pretending to flirt, feigning attraction. Now while the real thing is, decidedly, better, it's also harder when you actually do give a damn. You don't know when to walk away. You never want to.
Turn off the lights
And turn off the shyness
'Cause all of our moves
Make up for the silence
Fall Out Boy's "From Under the Cork Tree" is like, the story of my life right now. Seriously, this CD is like the soundtrack for how I conduct my business. Especially "Of All the Gin Joints in the World," "7 Minutes in Heaven," and "Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year":
I swear I'd burn the city down to show you the lights...
Anyways. Like I said, the Pistons won tonight so I'm using that as a barometer for my week. As of right now I have nothing too serious planned. School's almost over, which is so hard to believe. It seems like I just got here. Ahh, summer. Can't get here fast enough. I want to do something crazy.
PS--In my current state, even the takeout delivery guy looked kind of hot. Motown Lover suggested I get a male escort and call it a day. Or night, as the case may be. But that's where (for now, at least), I draw the line. If I'm willing to pay for sex, I clearly have bigger issues than perpetual horniness.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
I'm Fist-Pumping on the Inside
Ha-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!
I scored a business card. Easy-peasy.
Victory is mine!
Gotta go :)
I scored a business card. Easy-peasy.
Victory is mine!
Gotta go :)
Friday, April 25, 2008
But Now I'm Tired
Ahh, the life as a sportswriter. Living on the road, living and breathing the game, really expensive food if you don't have a press pass...
An editor/instructor just walked by and he said that he was "impressed" because he thinks I'm writing my story that's due tomorrow. As we can see, I'm not. Oh, wait...two more editors just passed...the two most intimidating, hardball ones...they commended me, too. I am subverting the system under the radar.
Yes, there is a cute guy here. A few, in fact. One's like 6-7 and we know me and tall men. I shall name him Mr. Tall for short. Hahaha, I said, "for short." The only drawback is that he's a Philly 76ers fan. Terribly unfortunate. But how's this for some T: last night, he stayed in the hotel room of a girl from his school who's a part of the Boot Camp, too. He doesn't even have a room here, for whatever reason. *side eye glance with a raised eyebrow* Now I'm just being messy, lol.
The boot camp alternates from being intimidating, intense, and boring. Most of the people are nice, but can turn real "tenured prof who doesn't give a damn" on you. Well, this one editor can and did. She was with "President" Bush on 9/11, by random coincidence. So you know she's unf*ckwitable. Also, she said that that picture with Dubya reading the book upside down was Photoshopped. She knows, y'all. She was there.
Anyway, there are tons of cool writers here, including this one beat writer from the Detroit Free Press, and a writer from ESPN: The Magazine. Hello, dream job?!? Hence the networking. I'd be a complete and utter fool if I didn't take advantage of these people. But easier said than done.
During the workshops, I kept zoning out. In my defense, a) we had to be in the hotel lobby at 7:30am. Enough said. I was 20 minutes late today LOL. 2) The sessions were effing long, dude! I even fell asleep a couple of times. I know. For shame, Lucky. But mostly I kept daydreaming. What ifs, how comes, I wonder whats.
Oh, yeah, did I mention how much I love the pool-sized bed in my single hotel room?! I practically squealed with delight rolling around that cushy trampoline! I slept like a baby. The only thing was that I don't take up that much space so the vastness of the bed made me alternate between feeling incredibly lush and indulgent and giggly, and sort of wishing that I had someone to share it with. No shade whatsoever. I'm not used to big beds, okay? Cut me a break ;) Of course I took a picture. Will edit post to include it later.
Right now I'm about to take a shower (loves my own bathroom, too, yo), cuddle up in The Bed, and work on my story/fix my Itunes. Will be back at school tomorrow night. This mini-vacation was fun while it lasted! And despite warnings from my Newswriting teacher, this was a bit of a vacay. I can turn anything into a vacation. Hell, I was one step away from ordering room service (on his American Express). But that's just mean.
The incredibly nice concierge whose daughter is an alumni from My College just came over and told me I was "working too hard"! I feel bad now, lol. Maybe I should be working for real. Well, writing is writing. Look at blogging as my "independent freelance gig." Because pouring my heart and soul out for y'all's entertainment is not, quite frankly, a game.
An editor/instructor just walked by and he said that he was "impressed" because he thinks I'm writing my story that's due tomorrow. As we can see, I'm not. Oh, wait...two more editors just passed...the two most intimidating, hardball ones...they commended me, too. I am subverting the system under the radar.
Yes, there is a cute guy here. A few, in fact. One's like 6-7 and we know me and tall men. I shall name him Mr. Tall for short. Hahaha, I said, "for short." The only drawback is that he's a Philly 76ers fan. Terribly unfortunate. But how's this for some T: last night, he stayed in the hotel room of a girl from his school who's a part of the Boot Camp, too. He doesn't even have a room here, for whatever reason. *side eye glance with a raised eyebrow* Now I'm just being messy, lol.
The boot camp alternates from being intimidating, intense, and boring. Most of the people are nice, but can turn real "tenured prof who doesn't give a damn" on you. Well, this one editor can and did. She was with "President" Bush on 9/11, by random coincidence. So you know she's unf*ckwitable. Also, she said that that picture with Dubya reading the book upside down was Photoshopped. She knows, y'all. She was there.
Anyway, there are tons of cool writers here, including this one beat writer from the Detroit Free Press, and a writer from ESPN: The Magazine. Hello, dream job?!? Hence the networking. I'd be a complete and utter fool if I didn't take advantage of these people. But easier said than done.
During the workshops, I kept zoning out. In my defense, a) we had to be in the hotel lobby at 7:30am. Enough said. I was 20 minutes late today LOL. 2) The sessions were effing long, dude! I even fell asleep a couple of times. I know. For shame, Lucky. But mostly I kept daydreaming. What ifs, how comes, I wonder whats.
Oh, yeah, did I mention how much I love the pool-sized bed in my single hotel room?! I practically squealed with delight rolling around that cushy trampoline! I slept like a baby. The only thing was that I don't take up that much space so the vastness of the bed made me alternate between feeling incredibly lush and indulgent and giggly, and sort of wishing that I had someone to share it with. No shade whatsoever. I'm not used to big beds, okay? Cut me a break ;) Of course I took a picture. Will edit post to include it later.
Right now I'm about to take a shower (loves my own bathroom, too, yo), cuddle up in The Bed, and work on my story/fix my Itunes. Will be back at school tomorrow night. This mini-vacation was fun while it lasted! And despite warnings from my Newswriting teacher, this was a bit of a vacay. I can turn anything into a vacation. Hell, I was one step away from ordering room service (on his American Express). But that's just mean.
The incredibly nice concierge whose daughter is an alumni from My College just came over and told me I was "working too hard"! I feel bad now, lol. Maybe I should be working for real. Well, writing is writing. Look at blogging as my "independent freelance gig." Because pouring my heart and soul out for y'all's entertainment is not, quite frankly, a game.
This Post is Being Written Secretly, When I Clearly Should be Editing My Story
I suck at small talk. Badly. And the dreaded "networking." Seriously. When I hear "network," I hear, "kill me now."
Gotta go. Seirously this post is like a covert op.
Gotta go. Seirously this post is like a covert op.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
I Wish I Were on a Rooftop Somewhere
There is so much that I want to say. I want to be fearless again.
I see myself from the outside looking in, always a step ahead, deciding how to play the situation, which cards to lay on the table and which to keep to myself. It's gotten so that I can't really decipher my own feelings. I can't look at things objectively anymore. Everything always has a hidden meaning, or an underlayer. Or does it? Am I so caught up in playing the game that I can't keep up with myself? Does that make sense? Am I playing according to plan and staying a step ahead or am I making mountains out of molehills by analyzing every little detail? If nothing else, how do you know if someone's "worth it?" Is there a checklist to determine a proper level of "worthiness"? I know you're supposed to just "know" but I know from experience that I can manipulate my own thoughts and make myself believe something. I just like to know where I stand, that's all. In life in general. And yes, with the people around me as well. This isn't supposed to be hard. But I won't apologize for my thoughts. Or, hell, my actions. They're mine to make.
I think I'm going crazy. I should have gone to therapy this morning but I flaked out. Again. It could have been some preventative action. Right now I would pick up the phone and try and make sense of this but it's not charged. A sign? Was it also a sign when as I reached the shuttle bus on the way back to campus it took off? Screw that, it just pissed me off. That walk left me alone with my thoughts...dangerous.
I felt a million miles away from you. There are so many questions I would ask if I weren't afraid of the answer. I need an outlet. Preferably a physical one that requires little talking. (Whoa. That sounded a little dirty.)
Right now I'm supposed to be packing for my business trip (I'm calling it a business trip), but I got distracted. My old computer shut down unexpectedly (hence its replacement) so I can't transfer my Ipod playlists to my new one. That's right, folks. Connie the computer has been replaced. But if I have to lug both computers to NC just so I can charge my Ipod, you'd better believe I will.
Happy Earth Day. Recycle. Don't smoke. Hug a tree. Plant a flower. Kiss somebody properly (that will save the world because I wholeheartedly believe that proper kissing yields endorphins and the world needs a little happiness). And last but not least, save water; shower together.
I see myself from the outside looking in, always a step ahead, deciding how to play the situation, which cards to lay on the table and which to keep to myself. It's gotten so that I can't really decipher my own feelings. I can't look at things objectively anymore. Everything always has a hidden meaning, or an underlayer. Or does it? Am I so caught up in playing the game that I can't keep up with myself? Does that make sense? Am I playing according to plan and staying a step ahead or am I making mountains out of molehills by analyzing every little detail? If nothing else, how do you know if someone's "worth it?" Is there a checklist to determine a proper level of "worthiness"? I know you're supposed to just "know" but I know from experience that I can manipulate my own thoughts and make myself believe something. I just like to know where I stand, that's all. In life in general. And yes, with the people around me as well. This isn't supposed to be hard. But I won't apologize for my thoughts. Or, hell, my actions. They're mine to make.
I think I'm going crazy. I should have gone to therapy this morning but I flaked out. Again. It could have been some preventative action. Right now I would pick up the phone and try and make sense of this but it's not charged. A sign? Was it also a sign when as I reached the shuttle bus on the way back to campus it took off? Screw that, it just pissed me off. That walk left me alone with my thoughts...dangerous.
I felt a million miles away from you. There are so many questions I would ask if I weren't afraid of the answer. I need an outlet. Preferably a physical one that requires little talking. (Whoa. That sounded a little dirty.)
Right now I'm supposed to be packing for my business trip (I'm calling it a business trip), but I got distracted. My old computer shut down unexpectedly (hence its replacement) so I can't transfer my Ipod playlists to my new one. That's right, folks. Connie the computer has been replaced. But if I have to lug both computers to NC just so I can charge my Ipod, you'd better believe I will.
Happy Earth Day. Recycle. Don't smoke. Hug a tree. Plant a flower. Kiss somebody properly (that will save the world because I wholeheartedly believe that proper kissing yields endorphins and the world needs a little happiness). And last but not least, save water; shower together.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Full Disclosure Ahead
I have a lot in common, I think, with Cara's Horny Cat. But not, fortunately, the part about being a cat.
TMI, I know. But I don't care.
By the way, what some may call "slightly mean," others may (properly) call clever rhetoric. Incidentally, you should feel flattered. I'm only mean to the ones I like.
Damn, I'm tired. I'm about to curl up with my newly-purchased DVD of "Juno" and hit the sack. And I will be doing so alone. Ugh.
TMI, I know. But I don't care.
By the way, what some may call "slightly mean," others may (properly) call clever rhetoric. Incidentally, you should feel flattered. I'm only mean to the ones I like.
Damn, I'm tired. I'm about to curl up with my newly-purchased DVD of "Juno" and hit the sack. And I will be doing so alone. Ugh.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
All Hail Princess Lucky
Call me when you get this.
Winding down from an eventful weekend. Watching the Pistons and making a significant (to me, anyway) change in my life. Stay tuned. Went to the Atlanta Braves baseball game on Saturday. I'd never been to an MLB; it was another terrific learning experience. Nice press box, nice people, nice weather. I'm a lucky girl. One thing that I definitely love about being a sportswriter (besides the craft, the games, the cute players, of course)? The FREE FOOD! They feed us journalists well.
But like I said, will talk more later. These may be the last few hours of "relaxation" that I have in awhile, and I'm determined to enjoy!
Also tonight:
My guilty pleasure/reason for living is finally coming baaaaccckkkk!!! But, sadly, I won't be able to watch until some saving grace can upload it online, 'cause I don't have the Style Network in my room. Top Chef has it at his place, but, um, yeah, no. Not to mention, he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I will NOT watch that trash (his words, not mine) on his television. But that's ok!! Within the past 2 days I threatened to both a) bust out a nail file on him, and 2) beat him with a loaf of bread (not at the same time, though. That's just mean). So I think that makes us even.
LOL. Why, yes, I often am the life of the party, natch.
Winding down from an eventful weekend. Watching the Pistons and making a significant (to me, anyway) change in my life. Stay tuned. Went to the Atlanta Braves baseball game on Saturday. I'd never been to an MLB; it was another terrific learning experience. Nice press box, nice people, nice weather. I'm a lucky girl. One thing that I definitely love about being a sportswriter (besides the craft, the games, the cute players, of course)? The FREE FOOD! They feed us journalists well.
But like I said, will talk more later. These may be the last few hours of "relaxation" that I have in awhile, and I'm determined to enjoy!
Also tonight:
My guilty pleasure/reason for living is finally coming baaaaccckkkk!!! But, sadly, I won't be able to watch until some saving grace can upload it online, 'cause I don't have the Style Network in my room. Top Chef has it at his place, but, um, yeah, no. Not to mention, he told me, in no uncertain terms, that I will NOT watch that trash (his words, not mine) on his television. But that's ok!! Within the past 2 days I threatened to both a) bust out a nail file on him, and 2) beat him with a loaf of bread (not at the same time, though. That's just mean). So I think that makes us even.
LOL. Why, yes, I often am the life of the party, natch.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
If Only You Knew...
Oww. That is the sound of life bitch-slapping me in the face. This week has pretty much been crud.
I can't wait to go home and get away from this place. It might not even be a matter of geography. But at this very moment, I wish I was posting from my house. For example:
I wish I could see this sight. Because that would mean that I'm in my bed, curled up with a book and Precious the dog by my side.
But anyway. Yesterday I had a hell of a time trying to finish my Ren Lit paper.
This is what I look like in the most dire of circumstances. The messy desk with me hunched over my computer means I have a paper or article due soon. The empty juice bottle means that I'm running low on fuel. At the Pistons hat means that a) my hair is a mess, and 2) I need the luck that only this cap can bring. The fact that this picture was taken at all means that I really, really must not have wanted to write that paper.
Sidenote: I need something to make me happy. Books make me happy. Any good, somewhat light titles out there that I could pick up? I'm talking chick-lit here, people, my brain can't handle anything too tough right now.
Oh, yeah, and this is that cheesecake from Monday...
In case you're wondering, this post is mostly pictures because at this very moment, I don't trust my words. I'm not afraid that they won't accurately convey what I want to say. I'm afraid that they will.
I can't wait to go home and get away from this place. It might not even be a matter of geography. But at this very moment, I wish I was posting from my house. For example:
I wish I could see this sight. Because that would mean that I'm in my bed, curled up with a book and Precious the dog by my side.
But anyway. Yesterday I had a hell of a time trying to finish my Ren Lit paper.
This is what I look like in the most dire of circumstances. The messy desk with me hunched over my computer means I have a paper or article due soon. The empty juice bottle means that I'm running low on fuel. At the Pistons hat means that a) my hair is a mess, and 2) I need the luck that only this cap can bring. The fact that this picture was taken at all means that I really, really must not have wanted to write that paper.
Sidenote: I need something to make me happy. Books make me happy. Any good, somewhat light titles out there that I could pick up? I'm talking chick-lit here, people, my brain can't handle anything too tough right now.
Oh, yeah, and this is that cheesecake from Monday...
In case you're wondering, this post is mostly pictures because at this very moment, I don't trust my words. I'm not afraid that they won't accurately convey what I want to say. I'm afraid that they will.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Two New Notches on My Belt...hopefully ;)
My two newest crushes. Full post coming later (clearly I have a paper due so I must prioritize), but I would be remiss if I didn't share the new men in my life.
Will, from the Real World, Hollywood.
I haven't watched the Real World in awhile, but I might reconsider my position to look at him. And he's from Detroit!!!! Can you see him wearing nothing but a Pistons hat!?! Sitting next to me at a Pistons game?? Oh, love. His smile is gorgeous, and I loved how he was on his side hustle, selling CDs and stuff while he waited for his roommate to pick him up. Swoon.
Next we have Al Horford, rookie center for the playoff-bound Atlanta Hawks.
I had the pleasure of interviewing him for a Hawks game that I covered. He was pretty nice, I mean, as nice as players are while tiredly fielding questions from the press post-game. But he's cute in person. And tall. And a good dresser. And did I mention that he's hella young? He'd be a senior at the University of Florida (go Gators!!) had he not entered the draft after helping his team win back-to-back NCAA Championships two years ago (I went to last year's FF. It was amazing). Basically that means that he looks like a regular, cute, college-age dude. Talk about a slam-dunk.
I probably need to marry an athlete, combining my love of basketball and well, love of men (LOL). Speaking of, the NBA playoffs start this Saturday, where we will bear witness to amazing displays of athleticism, heart, and perseverance on almost a nightly basis. Oh, I cannot wait. I'm wearing my Pistons hat as we speak. It's my lucky hat. Hopefully it will bring them post-season luck as well, as they are due for a championship, in my humble yet sports-educated opinion.
Will, from the Real World, Hollywood.
I haven't watched the Real World in awhile, but I might reconsider my position to look at him. And he's from Detroit!!!! Can you see him wearing nothing but a Pistons hat!?! Sitting next to me at a Pistons game?? Oh, love. His smile is gorgeous, and I loved how he was on his side hustle, selling CDs and stuff while he waited for his roommate to pick him up. Swoon.
Next we have Al Horford, rookie center for the playoff-bound Atlanta Hawks.
I had the pleasure of interviewing him for a Hawks game that I covered. He was pretty nice, I mean, as nice as players are while tiredly fielding questions from the press post-game. But he's cute in person. And tall. And a good dresser. And did I mention that he's hella young? He'd be a senior at the University of Florida (go Gators!!) had he not entered the draft after helping his team win back-to-back NCAA Championships two years ago (I went to last year's FF. It was amazing). Basically that means that he looks like a regular, cute, college-age dude. Talk about a slam-dunk.
I probably need to marry an athlete, combining my love of basketball and well, love of men (LOL). Speaking of, the NBA playoffs start this Saturday, where we will bear witness to amazing displays of athleticism, heart, and perseverance on almost a nightly basis. Oh, I cannot wait. I'm wearing my Pistons hat as we speak. It's my lucky hat. Hopefully it will bring them post-season luck as well, as they are due for a championship, in my humble yet sports-educated opinion.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Aspersions and Expectations
Well, I guess not.
I think I set high expectations. For people, places, experiences. Life (usually) doesn't meet them, and I get my feelings hurt. But everything's a learning experience, and I like to think that I bounce back in due time. If I could just retain that knowledge for future reference, that'd be great.
I went to a panel discussion about traditions at My College. It was preaching to the choir. Among the topics listed were the dress code. The powers-that-be always say that students don't respect Sisters Chapel when they come in wearing sweats to 11am assembly. To which I say, I came in sweats not because of some profound disrespect for the chapel, but because I just came from a 9:25-10:40am class! As I'm sure others do. If the only class I have that day is convocation, I'm surely not going to waste good clothes to sit in a boring assembly, eat lunch, and do homework in my room for the rest of the day.
Someone even suggested etiquette classes. I only ask, are we in college or finishing school? Etiquette seminars as one-time or optional events are fine, but requiring it, in my opinion, is a little much. I'm all for tradition, like on Founder's Day and such, appropriate attire is needed. But to sit in what's basically a seminar, that happens to be held in the chapel, in the morning, and expecting students to dress business casual is just doing too much. The speaker even posed the question, "How can we get students to conform to the dress code?" I think we know that "conform" is the problem word here. How to bridge the gap between tradition and free expression is a general, ongoing, blameless discussion that certainly cannot be attributed to the excessive wear of sweatpants.
Before I forget, let's all send a celebratory shout-out to the birthday boy, Mr. Top Chef himself! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Somewhere there is a shot of Jose C. and a slice of Joe's on Juniper chocolate cake with your name on it. This weekend we shall celebrar tu cumpleanos in style.
I have to finish my homework. I might chit-chat with Dad, but I have to be careful. I'm a bit of a loose cannon here, and the right words will probably send me into a tearful frenzy. And I do not have that kind of time. The downside to one rough day? A better one is usually around the corner.
I think I set high expectations. For people, places, experiences. Life (usually) doesn't meet them, and I get my feelings hurt. But everything's a learning experience, and I like to think that I bounce back in due time. If I could just retain that knowledge for future reference, that'd be great.
I went to a panel discussion about traditions at My College. It was preaching to the choir. Among the topics listed were the dress code. The powers-that-be always say that students don't respect Sisters Chapel when they come in wearing sweats to 11am assembly. To which I say, I came in sweats not because of some profound disrespect for the chapel, but because I just came from a 9:25-10:40am class! As I'm sure others do. If the only class I have that day is convocation, I'm surely not going to waste good clothes to sit in a boring assembly, eat lunch, and do homework in my room for the rest of the day.
Someone even suggested etiquette classes. I only ask, are we in college or finishing school? Etiquette seminars as one-time or optional events are fine, but requiring it, in my opinion, is a little much. I'm all for tradition, like on Founder's Day and such, appropriate attire is needed. But to sit in what's basically a seminar, that happens to be held in the chapel, in the morning, and expecting students to dress business casual is just doing too much. The speaker even posed the question, "How can we get students to conform to the dress code?" I think we know that "conform" is the problem word here. How to bridge the gap between tradition and free expression is a general, ongoing, blameless discussion that certainly cannot be attributed to the excessive wear of sweatpants.
Before I forget, let's all send a celebratory shout-out to the birthday boy, Mr. Top Chef himself! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Somewhere there is a shot of Jose C. and a slice of Joe's on Juniper chocolate cake with your name on it. This weekend we shall celebrar tu cumpleanos in style.
I have to finish my homework. I might chit-chat with Dad, but I have to be careful. I'm a bit of a loose cannon here, and the right words will probably send me into a tearful frenzy. And I do not have that kind of time. The downside to one rough day? A better one is usually around the corner.
I Almost Forgot
Remember when I said that "Blackle.com" was more environment-friendly? Well, turns out, it's not. According to an article that Sistah Girl found, blackle is only effective with CRT monitors, which are pretty much outdated. With LCD monitors, found in most computers/laptops/whatever, it actually takes more energy to produce the black background than the colored one of Google fame. I will look it up myself later when I am in need of something to help me procrastinate, but yeah, unless you're stuck with a 1980s-style comp, I'm pretty sure it's safe to go back to the Googlemeister. Oh, Google, how could I ever have forsaken thee?! Never again, my love. Never again.
Crazy Thing Called Life
Please excuse the cheesy-McCheese title, but 2am is just not agreeing with me like she used to.
What's new in my music world, you ask? "Feel Like a Woman" by Mary J. Blige, get into it! It has a smooth, sexy vibe to it. I usually don't like Miss MJB enough to put her on the 'pod, but this one could potentially be a grinder...
I've had a few good days in a row. For that I thank music, this blog (and Cara), and my friends, especially Sistah Girl, Motown Lover, and of course, Top Chef. Thanks, y'all. For gossip, for advice, for fun conversations. For wasting time and making memories and offering perspectives, opinions, and good food (Today, Red Baron pizza. Yum-o). Friends really are a blessing. Speaking of which, I really hope CG and I can move beyond the weirdness between us. It's wearing on me and, well, I miss her.
Sistah Girl and I have gotten closer this year, which I really like, and not just because she's hilarious and makes INSANELY good peach cobbler. She gives great advice, with nary a judgmental tone in her voice. She's the mother of the group. So if you're reading this (instead of working on that Ren Lit paper, to which I say, tsk, tsk), thanks a million :). You'll make a fantastic teacher one day.
Anywhoodle, guess who I ran into today at the Post Office? Sidenote: That huge-ass application packet cost me $4.60 in postage. But if I get the scholarship, it will be $5 well-spent, and I will renege all of my head-shaking and finger-waggling.
But anyway. As I take off my sunglasses and remove my Ipod, guess who is standing in the doorway with his customary half-grin/smirk? The Runner! In all of his tall, athletic glory. At first I was like, "Wait, I know you." Then I was like, "Wtf?" 'Cause I hadn't seen him 2 days after Valentine's Day (yes, I remember the day, time, and circumstance). But, I was on his campus, after all. He looked good. Healthy. He is, indeed, a runner. We chat, he waits patiently as I mail my package, we walk out into the sunshine together and chat some more about an upcoming party. He asked me if I was going (I'm not. Have you seen my hair?) and seemed genuinely sad when I said I wasn't. He asked me about my work on The Paper. We parted on good terms.
He's a nice guy with a bad-ass streak to keep him interesting. I actually had thought about him earlier that day, as I did my laundry (we're not going down that road again). I recalled our easy banter, his offbeat personality, and how he'd use the corner of his t-shirt to wipe the top of his Corona Light bottle so I could have some. I wonder if I should go down that road again?
Of course there is currently an unfinished article waiting for me to finish it so I can go to bed. But I can't figure out how to end it. I can never end things properly. Pretty ironic.
What's new in my music world, you ask? "Feel Like a Woman" by Mary J. Blige, get into it! It has a smooth, sexy vibe to it. I usually don't like Miss MJB enough to put her on the 'pod, but this one could potentially be a grinder...
I've had a few good days in a row. For that I thank music, this blog (and Cara), and my friends, especially Sistah Girl, Motown Lover, and of course, Top Chef. Thanks, y'all. For gossip, for advice, for fun conversations. For wasting time and making memories and offering perspectives, opinions, and good food (Today, Red Baron pizza. Yum-o). Friends really are a blessing. Speaking of which, I really hope CG and I can move beyond the weirdness between us. It's wearing on me and, well, I miss her.
Sistah Girl and I have gotten closer this year, which I really like, and not just because she's hilarious and makes INSANELY good peach cobbler. She gives great advice, with nary a judgmental tone in her voice. She's the mother of the group. So if you're reading this (instead of working on that Ren Lit paper, to which I say, tsk, tsk), thanks a million :). You'll make a fantastic teacher one day.
Anywhoodle, guess who I ran into today at the Post Office? Sidenote: That huge-ass application packet cost me $4.60 in postage. But if I get the scholarship, it will be $5 well-spent, and I will renege all of my head-shaking and finger-waggling.
But anyway. As I take off my sunglasses and remove my Ipod, guess who is standing in the doorway with his customary half-grin/smirk? The Runner! In all of his tall, athletic glory. At first I was like, "Wait, I know you." Then I was like, "Wtf?" 'Cause I hadn't seen him 2 days after Valentine's Day (yes, I remember the day, time, and circumstance). But, I was on his campus, after all. He looked good. Healthy. He is, indeed, a runner. We chat, he waits patiently as I mail my package, we walk out into the sunshine together and chat some more about an upcoming party. He asked me if I was going (I'm not. Have you seen my hair?) and seemed genuinely sad when I said I wasn't. He asked me about my work on The Paper. We parted on good terms.
He's a nice guy with a bad-ass streak to keep him interesting. I actually had thought about him earlier that day, as I did my laundry (we're not going down that road again). I recalled our easy banter, his offbeat personality, and how he'd use the corner of his t-shirt to wipe the top of his Corona Light bottle so I could have some. I wonder if I should go down that road again?
Of course there is currently an unfinished article waiting for me to finish it so I can go to bed. But I can't figure out how to end it. I can never end things properly. Pretty ironic.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Too Close for Comfort
Today the Boy bought me cheesecake. We kissed in the car. Both were incredibly sweet.
Last week slapped me around a little, if it wasn't one thing or person, it was another. But, well, a setback is just a setup for a comeback, right? And I am. Coming back, that is. Slowly but surely. You just have to keep moving. In college, that means you have to learn how to type and cry at the same time. Oh yes, people, your girl cried this past weekend. Never call home when you're slightly unstable, whatever Mom or Dad has to say will reduce you to a blubbering mess...in my case, an angry, cursing, blubbery mess.
This clip from Dane Cook's Vicious Circle comedy show that aired on HBO pretty much explains it.
Look up the rest of the show on youtube. I usually only like comedians like The Kings of Comedy and Katt Williams, but this ish is hilarious. The first time I watched the whole show I fell off the couch laughing.
Tomorrow I will post a picture of the cheesecake. 'Cause seriously, that mess was good.
Last week slapped me around a little, if it wasn't one thing or person, it was another. But, well, a setback is just a setup for a comeback, right? And I am. Coming back, that is. Slowly but surely. You just have to keep moving. In college, that means you have to learn how to type and cry at the same time. Oh yes, people, your girl cried this past weekend. Never call home when you're slightly unstable, whatever Mom or Dad has to say will reduce you to a blubbering mess...in my case, an angry, cursing, blubbery mess.
This clip from Dane Cook's Vicious Circle comedy show that aired on HBO pretty much explains it.
Look up the rest of the show on youtube. I usually only like comedians like The Kings of Comedy and Katt Williams, but this ish is hilarious. The first time I watched the whole show I fell off the couch laughing.
Tomorrow I will post a picture of the cheesecake. 'Cause seriously, that mess was good.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Take a Picture
'Cause today is a good day. It's Saturday. Yes, I have homework and an application due. But I am happy. I'm not questioning it or trying to figure out why. Although maybe I should so I can call on that feeling more often, huh?
Right now I'm in between obligations, just finished a loooong reading assignment, and am taking a break before the next one. Watching "Stomp the Yard" with Roommate on Cali Girl's bed. A little hungry.
Yesterday was a gloriously hot day, and also My College's Founder's Day, which meant lots of people and activities, which were fun. Watched "Juno," which I may do again this afternoon. Later we're going to a charity event, Dance Marathon, which should be fun.
I'm trying to follow my heart more now. I get this way when the weather gets warmer. I try to do what I want and what I like on my own instead of depending on others. Stay tuned on how this works out!
Funny snippet from yesterday's convo (via text messaging):
Me: Babe, stop sending me one-word texts!
Him: ok
LOL.
This post feels a little un-dramatic...a welcome change, if you ask me. Happy Saturday :)
Right now I'm in between obligations, just finished a loooong reading assignment, and am taking a break before the next one. Watching "Stomp the Yard" with Roommate on Cali Girl's bed. A little hungry.
Yesterday was a gloriously hot day, and also My College's Founder's Day, which meant lots of people and activities, which were fun. Watched "Juno," which I may do again this afternoon. Later we're going to a charity event, Dance Marathon, which should be fun.
I'm trying to follow my heart more now. I get this way when the weather gets warmer. I try to do what I want and what I like on my own instead of depending on others. Stay tuned on how this works out!
Funny snippet from yesterday's convo (via text messaging):
Me: Babe, stop sending me one-word texts!
Him: ok
LOL.
This post feels a little un-dramatic...a welcome change, if you ask me. Happy Saturday :)
Friday, April 11, 2008
I Apologize for Being Difficult
But you, dear, Internet, are just going to have to be my proverbial shoulder to lean on.
I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
And my scars remind me that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel
Keeping the world at arm's length is not without its own turmoil. I tried to be strong, but it stings just as badly. Maybe that means I'm still weak. Or maybe I just fall hard. Building a wall keeps people out just as much as it keeps me in. I miss being giddy and light-headed. Recently somewhere between that and fear I got this idea that to preserve myself from getting hurt, I just wouldn't care. Fast forward to the realization that it's just not for me. It feels too-much like game-playing. I really do like and care about the Boy a lot, I'm just so afraid of getting hurt. There it is. Yes, it's casual and whatnot but that doesn't stop me from wanting. And that scares me because I've wanted before, and it ended in me doubting everything from my sexiness to my self-worth. I can't be blase about liking somebody...I'm a girl who loves to love. But not without fear--that crippling fear that I'll be made a fool of. When I tried to remain detached, I just ended up feeling cruddy. And mean.
Maybe this is my inexperience shining through in all of its paralyzing glory? I'll be okay, though. I always am. Don't worry about me, y'all. Honest. I'll be just fine.
I hung out with Top Chef this afternoon. He's a really good friend. I really needed to just talk and laugh and be okay. And for a few hours, over 20 Questions and chicken fingers, I was.
I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
And my scars remind me that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel
Keeping the world at arm's length is not without its own turmoil. I tried to be strong, but it stings just as badly. Maybe that means I'm still weak. Or maybe I just fall hard. Building a wall keeps people out just as much as it keeps me in. I miss being giddy and light-headed. Recently somewhere between that and fear I got this idea that to preserve myself from getting hurt, I just wouldn't care. Fast forward to the realization that it's just not for me. It feels too-much like game-playing. I really do like and care about the Boy a lot, I'm just so afraid of getting hurt. There it is. Yes, it's casual and whatnot but that doesn't stop me from wanting. And that scares me because I've wanted before, and it ended in me doubting everything from my sexiness to my self-worth. I can't be blase about liking somebody...I'm a girl who loves to love. But not without fear--that crippling fear that I'll be made a fool of. When I tried to remain detached, I just ended up feeling cruddy. And mean.
Maybe this is my inexperience shining through in all of its paralyzing glory? I'll be okay, though. I always am. Don't worry about me, y'all. Honest. I'll be just fine.
I hung out with Top Chef this afternoon. He's a really good friend. I really needed to just talk and laugh and be okay. And for a few hours, over 20 Questions and chicken fingers, I was.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
One Last Nightcap
Well, it ain't 2:30.
I don't like going to bed unhappy. And yet, here I am.
Have you ever felt like, no matter what you do, you seem to get in everyone's way? Or like you are totally expendable and it wouldn't change things in the least if you were to just disappear or be replaced? Not even in a vain, I-need-attention way, just a basic, human need to feel acknowledged-kind of way. I hate when I get like this, all victim-y; but I can't help the way I feel. This is why I don't cry anymore. It's a sign of weakness and helplessness not being able to "change my situation by changing my mind" or whatever. I'm not weak, I swear. I just happen to be a little sad right now. Indulge me.
I don't like going to bed unhappy. And yet, here I am.
Have you ever felt like, no matter what you do, you seem to get in everyone's way? Or like you are totally expendable and it wouldn't change things in the least if you were to just disappear or be replaced? Not even in a vain, I-need-attention way, just a basic, human need to feel acknowledged-kind of way. I hate when I get like this, all victim-y; but I can't help the way I feel. This is why I don't cry anymore. It's a sign of weakness and helplessness not being able to "change my situation by changing my mind" or whatever. I'm not weak, I swear. I just happen to be a little sad right now. Indulge me.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
For Future Reference
So yeah. Today, I just needed someone to talk to. Face to face, or hell, phone to ear; not virtual but actual. Several people kinda missed the boat on that one today...
FFFFFFFFUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK (bear with me). This blog was supposed to be pretty much uncensored. I hate feeling like I need to censor myself.
(For general future reference) I Cannot Tolerate Those Who Are: judgmental and/or inconsiderate of others.
That's why I love my dog. She has but one expression: canine. She'll never repeat a word, and most importantly, she won't judge. No questions, no contingency, no stipulations.
See? Precious is just a-listening to my tales, attentive and unbiased as only a non-human can be. No smirk or *side eye* glance at what I have to say, nothing but a doggy smile and a cuddly body.
Actually, I just thought about it. My main problem is isolation from people who I should confide in but can't. If I had someone who I just knew would be in my corner in the event that I need him or her, no matter what I said/did, I wouldn't have any problems, negating the need for that shoulder to lean on. Does that make sense? I'd just need to know that you're there.
I got a call this afternoon from the Sports Journalism Boot Camp at North Carolina A&T; they offered me a spot. Basically, it's about 3 days of intensive sports journalism training, and there were only 24 spots for HBCU students, 4 of which went to the [Brother School's] Journalism and Sports students. So I guess it's a pretty big feat for me, seeing as, well, I don't go to said school. So that's righteously righteous, I suppose. Internet, y'all might be the only ones who will congratulate me properly (except for the people I haven't told, like Top Chef. He'd probably be excited for me). I haven't even told my parents yet. The last time I told them about an internship that I won, they were less than enthused, and I couldn't go. So I'm savoring it a little longer this time.
On a lighter note, I tried like 3 times to skip class today, but it kept on not working! I totally shouldn't have gone to Basic Newswriting. Or Spanish. Or Renaissance Lit. But alas, I found myself wasting a gorgeous day inside a classroom. I haven't even been on my daily round of gossip blogs since 10am, and I didn't even get to finish!! Today was busy. Tomorrow, hopefully, will be easier. Maybe I'll swing by to see TC and Motown Lover. They're always good for a laugh.
Me, Roommate, Cali Girl, and Charley the dog went to pet training today. Sexy Petsmart Worker was there, being sexy with his dreadlocks and jokes. Very funny business ensued involving a comically huge training collar, a stake, and a guinea pig. Not at the same time, though. But entertaining nonetheless.
FFFFFFFFUUUUUCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK (bear with me). This blog was supposed to be pretty much uncensored. I hate feeling like I need to censor myself.
(For general future reference) I Cannot Tolerate Those Who Are: judgmental and/or inconsiderate of others.
That's why I love my dog. She has but one expression: canine. She'll never repeat a word, and most importantly, she won't judge. No questions, no contingency, no stipulations.
See? Precious is just a-listening to my tales, attentive and unbiased as only a non-human can be. No smirk or *side eye* glance at what I have to say, nothing but a doggy smile and a cuddly body.
Actually, I just thought about it. My main problem is isolation from people who I should confide in but can't. If I had someone who I just knew would be in my corner in the event that I need him or her, no matter what I said/did, I wouldn't have any problems, negating the need for that shoulder to lean on. Does that make sense? I'd just need to know that you're there.
I got a call this afternoon from the Sports Journalism Boot Camp at North Carolina A&T; they offered me a spot. Basically, it's about 3 days of intensive sports journalism training, and there were only 24 spots for HBCU students, 4 of which went to the [Brother School's] Journalism and Sports students. So I guess it's a pretty big feat for me, seeing as, well, I don't go to said school. So that's righteously righteous, I suppose. Internet, y'all might be the only ones who will congratulate me properly (except for the people I haven't told, like Top Chef. He'd probably be excited for me). I haven't even told my parents yet. The last time I told them about an internship that I won, they were less than enthused, and I couldn't go. So I'm savoring it a little longer this time.
On a lighter note, I tried like 3 times to skip class today, but it kept on not working! I totally shouldn't have gone to Basic Newswriting. Or Spanish. Or Renaissance Lit. But alas, I found myself wasting a gorgeous day inside a classroom. I haven't even been on my daily round of gossip blogs since 10am, and I didn't even get to finish!! Today was busy. Tomorrow, hopefully, will be easier. Maybe I'll swing by to see TC and Motown Lover. They're always good for a laugh.
Me, Roommate, Cali Girl, and Charley the dog went to pet training today. Sexy Petsmart Worker was there, being sexy with his dreadlocks and jokes. Very funny business ensued involving a comically huge training collar, a stake, and a guinea pig. Not at the same time, though. But entertaining nonetheless.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Further Distraction
Yesterday, if anyone cares, went exactly as predicted: I fell asleep, woke up at 9:30, started homework, got distracted with a text from the Boy, took a shower, watched a movie, and didn't turn off the light until past 3am. At least I'm self aware!
I officially went AWOL from my therapy session. Yes, I ditched. I couldn't face it, anyway. I had a nice conversation a few nights ago, anyway; we'll just pretend that it was counseling. No, here's what it is. I was in a bad mood when I signed up, and when by the time of my appointment, I was in a better mood, therefore rendering said appointment unnecessary. I need more of a shrink-on-tap, to talk to when I really need it, like in the backseat of a car or sitting in the caf or something.
Got a this text from Motown Lover yesterday morning: "Girl, I just walked past he who shall not be named!" Was jolted awake. "You are lying...what?!?!" I respond. He was not lying. Tex is back. I think we all remember last time he was here, mortification abound. Things will be different this time, they must be! The Boy is a clear upgrade over Tex anyway.
This is the cupcake I had with my lunch yesterday. It made me happy. I had to take a picture, because, well, who doesn't like cupcakes?
Anyway. This post was supposed to go up yesterday, but, well, yeah, that didn't happen. So I'll double-post in a sec. My computer's acting wonky. I am tired.
I officially went AWOL from my therapy session. Yes, I ditched. I couldn't face it, anyway. I had a nice conversation a few nights ago, anyway; we'll just pretend that it was counseling. No, here's what it is. I was in a bad mood when I signed up, and when by the time of my appointment, I was in a better mood, therefore rendering said appointment unnecessary. I need more of a shrink-on-tap, to talk to when I really need it, like in the backseat of a car or sitting in the caf or something.
Got a this text from Motown Lover yesterday morning: "Girl, I just walked past he who shall not be named!" Was jolted awake. "You are lying...what?!?!" I respond. He was not lying. Tex is back. I think we all remember last time he was here, mortification abound. Things will be different this time, they must be! The Boy is a clear upgrade over Tex anyway.
This is the cupcake I had with my lunch yesterday. It made me happy. I had to take a picture, because, well, who doesn't like cupcakes?
Anyway. This post was supposed to go up yesterday, but, well, yeah, that didn't happen. So I'll double-post in a sec. My computer's acting wonky. I am tired.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Mirror
This self-reflection business is no joke. My head is full of random thoughts about myself, others, the state of my fingernails, my future, things like that. And a thought or two about the Boy would just pop up every once in a while. True randomness fo' real.
Maybe I'm making it up but today I felt a weird s p a c e between me and Cali Girl. And almost between me and Roommate. Maybe I'm making it up. I really, really hope it's all in my head.
If your text messages go unanswered by enough people, don't you start to wonder whether or not your phone's working? I do. Is that weird? Slightly arrogant to assume that people have nothing else to do than respond to an SMS? Probably so. But still! Okay, okay, it's silly. I'm stopping today. Just because I don't have a life doesn't mean other people don't. I keed, I keed. I have a great life.
I totally worked out today. I'm proud of myself. I kept staring at my legs in the mirror across from my treadmill, and was actually quite impressed and somewhat captivated by the pull and stretch of the muscles. They looked strong and capable, which they are. There's not a whole lot of bad that I can say about my legs. I think they're pretty great (as far as legs go), and even if they weren't, they're the only pair I've got; no use in complaining about them. More people should adapt that philosophy when it comes to body image, I think, if not other aspects.
This post feels a little uninspired. I'm tired, maybe that's why. A bit of homework and a shower, and I just might turn in early tonight. Ha. More like, I'll pass out after posting this, wake up at 10p, get distracted, and won't fall asleep until half past 2. Let's be real.
Maybe I'm making it up but today I felt a weird s p a c e between me and Cali Girl. And almost between me and Roommate. Maybe I'm making it up. I really, really hope it's all in my head.
If your text messages go unanswered by enough people, don't you start to wonder whether or not your phone's working? I do. Is that weird? Slightly arrogant to assume that people have nothing else to do than respond to an SMS? Probably so. But still! Okay, okay, it's silly. I'm stopping today. Just because I don't have a life doesn't mean other people don't. I keed, I keed. I have a great life.
I totally worked out today. I'm proud of myself. I kept staring at my legs in the mirror across from my treadmill, and was actually quite impressed and somewhat captivated by the pull and stretch of the muscles. They looked strong and capable, which they are. There's not a whole lot of bad that I can say about my legs. I think they're pretty great (as far as legs go), and even if they weren't, they're the only pair I've got; no use in complaining about them. More people should adapt that philosophy when it comes to body image, I think, if not other aspects.
This post feels a little uninspired. I'm tired, maybe that's why. A bit of homework and a shower, and I just might turn in early tonight. Ha. More like, I'll pass out after posting this, wake up at 10p, get distracted, and won't fall asleep until half past 2. Let's be real.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Fear is in the Eye of the Beholder
If I could just find someone to talk to, everything would begin to make sense. It's not just that, though. I can't ask for help. Who knows what would come spilling out if I actually articulate the things that plague me? That crippling fear is what keeps me from actually talking to that hypothetical someone. I don't know what it would take for me to just let out my questions, fears, ideas. I'd have to be certain that...what? I wouldn't be judged or considered weak? I like to think that I'd just know that I could trust that person with whatever I had to say. I also don't like to cry. It's embarrassing. Minor as it seems, the possibility that I'd cry in the midst of it all is the most horrifying of all.
"The fear means I'm close. The fear means I'm ready."
It has to be on my terms, I think. I can't be interrogated. We'd just have to be talking and there'd have to be a trust, an intimacy, in the air for me to just "let it out."
I have moments where I get really introspective and probably a little dramatic, but then I turn around and look at the card posted on my desk that says, "Happiness is a series of choices." I believe in choosing to be happy. I honestly don't think I'm as "messed up" or as big of a "train-wreck" as I think I am on my worst days. Insecure at times, a little fearful, somewhat unsure of who or what I am at my essence, but not completely fucked up. A conversation with the Boy actually sparked that thought, and I've been thinking it over all day and came to that conclusion; that I am not as messed up as I think I am. I know, I know, I shouldn't deal with all of this just for a guy, and I'm not. This will help me in the long run, and help from anywhere is always appreciated, and the fact that such advice came from a sleepy-eyed boy who makes me weak in the knees is just a bonus :)
Whatever we turn out to be, at the very least, being with you taught me a lot about myself. In addition to making me happier than I've been in a long time. So thanks, babe, wherever you are..
On a lighter note, I am happy to report that Laundry Watch 2008 is officially over!
LOL.
The question, is, however, who's gonna put that sh*t away??
Oh, my Lordy..there's going to be an MTV series called "The Paper"!!!! The tagline is, "Who's gonne be Editor-in-Chief?" There is a strong possibility that I will tune in.
Fun as this weekend was, I'm pooped. If I can finish Shakespeare, Spanish, update my Ipod, and take a shower before 10pm, I will consider it a Sunday well-spent. Even if I did sleep in 'til about 3pm. I know, right? Blame that one on the Boy. What kept us up so late, you ask? Yahtzee and hot cocoa, of course...
"The fear means I'm close. The fear means I'm ready."
It has to be on my terms, I think. I can't be interrogated. We'd just have to be talking and there'd have to be a trust, an intimacy, in the air for me to just "let it out."
I have moments where I get really introspective and probably a little dramatic, but then I turn around and look at the card posted on my desk that says, "Happiness is a series of choices." I believe in choosing to be happy. I honestly don't think I'm as "messed up" or as big of a "train-wreck" as I think I am on my worst days. Insecure at times, a little fearful, somewhat unsure of who or what I am at my essence, but not completely fucked up. A conversation with the Boy actually sparked that thought, and I've been thinking it over all day and came to that conclusion; that I am not as messed up as I think I am. I know, I know, I shouldn't deal with all of this just for a guy, and I'm not. This will help me in the long run, and help from anywhere is always appreciated, and the fact that such advice came from a sleepy-eyed boy who makes me weak in the knees is just a bonus :)
Whatever we turn out to be, at the very least, being with you taught me a lot about myself. In addition to making me happier than I've been in a long time. So thanks, babe, wherever you are..
On a lighter note, I am happy to report that Laundry Watch 2008 is officially over!
LOL.
The question, is, however, who's gonna put that sh*t away??
Oh, my Lordy..there's going to be an MTV series called "The Paper"!!!! The tagline is, "Who's gonne be Editor-in-Chief?" There is a strong possibility that I will tune in.
Fun as this weekend was, I'm pooped. If I can finish Shakespeare, Spanish, update my Ipod, and take a shower before 10pm, I will consider it a Sunday well-spent. Even if I did sleep in 'til about 3pm. I know, right? Blame that one on the Boy. What kept us up so late, you ask? Yahtzee and hot cocoa, of course...
Friday, April 4, 2008
Save the World
Checkin' in before I have to cover a Georgia Force game (Arena Football. Uncharted territory) tonight.
I recently got a tip from a Glamour magazine blog on how to live a lil' greener: use Blackle.com instead of Google. It saves energy because there's no color on the site. Didn't think about it, huh? Now, now, I love the Googs with my heart and soul, too, but rest easy, y'all. Blackle's powered by Google so the search engine results are the same. I actually used Blackle this morning and thought it was pretty cool. If I could figure out how to switch the automatic search engine on my toolbar, it'd be easier.
We had a mini-discussion in Basic Newswriting about the Lebron/Gisele Vogue cover today, randomly. This one guy in my class' comments annoyed me. He said, basically, that Lebron "probably isn't that smart because he's just a basketball player. He didn't go to college. No offense to any sports fans." I wanted to slap him. Far be it for me to say anything in Lebron's defense, ever, but I hate stereotypes, especially ones related to athletics, double-especially from people who don't know what the hell they're talking about...In my annoyance, and because he tries to randomly start conversations with me, I am tempted to name him Well-Meaning but Creepy and Annoying Guy, but I'll hold off.
Laundry Watch 2008 continues. Hopefully everything will be made right tomorrow. I am down to my last bra. This is getting ridiculous. Also hopefully I will finish in the daytime, I believe I do have plans Saturday evening that require clothing.
This weekend should be interesting. I feel it. Oh, wow, I have a shitload of homework so before anything "interesting" can happen I should probably get that out of the way. Wouldn't want silly things like "classes" or "homework" get in the way of a true college experience.
I recently got a tip from a Glamour magazine blog on how to live a lil' greener: use Blackle.com instead of Google. It saves energy because there's no color on the site. Didn't think about it, huh? Now, now, I love the Googs with my heart and soul, too, but rest easy, y'all. Blackle's powered by Google so the search engine results are the same. I actually used Blackle this morning and thought it was pretty cool. If I could figure out how to switch the automatic search engine on my toolbar, it'd be easier.
We had a mini-discussion in Basic Newswriting about the Lebron/Gisele Vogue cover today, randomly. This one guy in my class' comments annoyed me. He said, basically, that Lebron "probably isn't that smart because he's just a basketball player. He didn't go to college. No offense to any sports fans." I wanted to slap him. Far be it for me to say anything in Lebron's defense, ever, but I hate stereotypes, especially ones related to athletics, double-especially from people who don't know what the hell they're talking about...In my annoyance, and because he tries to randomly start conversations with me, I am tempted to name him Well-Meaning but Creepy and Annoying Guy, but I'll hold off.
Laundry Watch 2008 continues. Hopefully everything will be made right tomorrow. I am down to my last bra. This is getting ridiculous. Also hopefully I will finish in the daytime, I believe I do have plans Saturday evening that require clothing.
This weekend should be interesting. I feel it. Oh, wow, I have a shitload of homework so before anything "interesting" can happen I should probably get that out of the way. Wouldn't want silly things like "classes" or "homework" get in the way of a true college experience.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
The Laundry Still is Undone
Whew. That was a lot before 9pm. Suffice it to say, we're fine, he's adorable, and I'm just about smitten. I have to laugh at the daily roller coaster that this has become. But yes, I went over the apartment, sans a ride from Sista Girl so I couldn't lug my clothes, so I am in no better place, clothing-wise, than I was yesterday. Not to worry, we will try again today, after my meeting with The Paper.
This morning I had a phone interview with RLJ Companies for a summer internship. The guy said that I was in the top five or six students from My College that they chose to interview, so we'll wait and see. The spot's in Bethesda, MD, so I might come back with an armful of bangles to boot.
Last night was actually fun, I made Oatmeal Cranberry cookies and everyone (Top Chef, Motown Lover, Artist Friend, and occasionally, the Boy) just sat around and chatted about random stuff, including the topic of various names for future children or just interesting names in general. Among the mentioned monikers were:
The Good: Madison, Ella, Rachel, Ellis, Taylor, Chauncey, Talulah
The Funny: Consuela, Conchita, el Concepcion, Fatima (emphasis on "fat"), Carlota, Jezebelle, Cleofis, Hortense, Talulah Bankhead, Bernice, Bertha, Norma Jean, Pearl, Mildred...
Clearly the names got more and more ridiculous as time wore on. Funny stuff.
Anyway, this morning my mom called me about an internship that I'd forgotten to apply for (my computer wasn't working, and it slipped my mind). Slightly annoyed, I sort of rushed her off of the phone to avoid hearing her fuss. Later, during lunch, I got a phone call from the school's counseling service requesting a meeting with me. When I asked why, she said she'd tell me when I came. I was puzzled for a second, then, rolling my eyes heavenward, I asked, "Did you talk to my mother?"
Pause. "Well, yes."
Dear Lord.
I went, though. It was whatever. I don't know if the lady was expecting me to cut open a vein or something, but I was mad uncomfortable the whole time. I might go back though, just to have someone to talk to. Might.
Now that I think about it, let me go apply for the position before my mom calls the Surgeon General on me, or something.
This morning I had a phone interview with RLJ Companies for a summer internship. The guy said that I was in the top five or six students from My College that they chose to interview, so we'll wait and see. The spot's in Bethesda, MD, so I might come back with an armful of bangles to boot.
Last night was actually fun, I made Oatmeal Cranberry cookies and everyone (Top Chef, Motown Lover, Artist Friend, and occasionally, the Boy) just sat around and chatted about random stuff, including the topic of various names for future children or just interesting names in general. Among the mentioned monikers were:
The Good: Madison, Ella, Rachel, Ellis, Taylor, Chauncey, Talulah
The Funny: Consuela, Conchita, el Concepcion, Fatima (emphasis on "fat"), Carlota, Jezebelle, Cleofis, Hortense, Talulah Bankhead, Bernice, Bertha, Norma Jean, Pearl, Mildred...
Clearly the names got more and more ridiculous as time wore on. Funny stuff.
Anyway, this morning my mom called me about an internship that I'd forgotten to apply for (my computer wasn't working, and it slipped my mind). Slightly annoyed, I sort of rushed her off of the phone to avoid hearing her fuss. Later, during lunch, I got a phone call from the school's counseling service requesting a meeting with me. When I asked why, she said she'd tell me when I came. I was puzzled for a second, then, rolling my eyes heavenward, I asked, "Did you talk to my mother?"
Pause. "Well, yes."
Dear Lord.
I went, though. It was whatever. I don't know if the lady was expecting me to cut open a vein or something, but I was mad uncomfortable the whole time. I might go back though, just to have someone to talk to. Might.
Now that I think about it, let me go apply for the position before my mom calls the Surgeon General on me, or something.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I am Not the Cliche (part 2)
You are kidding me. He didn't answer. After all that so-called virtuous patience! How anti-climatic.
Now, now, the same rationale can be applied here as before. Perhaps he really is busy. Besides, he usually calls back in a timely fashion.
Still, I am not looking forward to going to class in the nuddy-pants.
Now, now, the same rationale can be applied here as before. Perhaps he really is busy. Besides, he usually calls back in a timely fashion.
Still, I am not looking forward to going to class in the nuddy-pants.
I am Not the Cliche (part 1)
Be forewarned, this is a bit of a long post...
I am not idly surfing the web waiting for him to call/text. It may look like it, but ah, 'tis a fool who thinks that! I happen to be surfing the web totally of my own accord, and just so happen to be waiting, nay, confidently anticipating, a phone call whilst doing so. Just to clarify. Honestly, I need to do laundry at his place. Like, if I was annoyed that he hasn't called to hang out (which I am not), I potentially could be annoyed that I am missing the chance to wash two weeks' worth of clothes. How can I impart to him the seriousness of this matter?! Sweetheart, I could text, if I don't do laundry like, tonight, I will have to go to class naked. And I won't be in a good mood because I will be in class, naked. Hopefully it won't come to that. I don't feel like calling him myself because I am practicing this thing called "patience." And by practice I mean pretending to have some.
I was giving him until 8pm but we will have to take baby steps on this patience thing so that has been pushed up to 7:30pm. Do time constraints fall into the category of over-analyzing? Or simply planning ahead? No, over-analyzing would be wondering why he hasn't called yet. And I'm not; wondering, that is. After all, he could just be busy. He could be in the shower. He could think me a paranoid, overeager shrew who can't keep a man...no! Sorry. The old, issue-laden Lucky reared her ugly head.
God, this being patient business is nothing short of exhausting. Oh, there's a basketball game on, lovely. That should kill some time (in case you haven't gathered, I'm alone in my room and therefore need the distraction provided by this long post). I could flat-iron my hair, organize my shoes, finish my homework (lol, girlfriend please). I have no class tomorrow therefore a free day to do all of the aforementioned things.
7:25p! What's a measly five minutes? No, no, you're right, it's the principle. This is a much-needed life-lesson. Three minutes...
I am not idly surfing the web waiting for him to call/text. It may look like it, but ah, 'tis a fool who thinks that! I happen to be surfing the web totally of my own accord, and just so happen to be waiting, nay, confidently anticipating, a phone call whilst doing so. Just to clarify. Honestly, I need to do laundry at his place. Like, if I was annoyed that he hasn't called to hang out (which I am not), I potentially could be annoyed that I am missing the chance to wash two weeks' worth of clothes. How can I impart to him the seriousness of this matter?! Sweetheart, I could text, if I don't do laundry like, tonight, I will have to go to class naked. And I won't be in a good mood because I will be in class, naked. Hopefully it won't come to that. I don't feel like calling him myself because I am practicing this thing called "patience." And by practice I mean pretending to have some.
I was giving him until 8pm but we will have to take baby steps on this patience thing so that has been pushed up to 7:30pm. Do time constraints fall into the category of over-analyzing? Or simply planning ahead? No, over-analyzing would be wondering why he hasn't called yet. And I'm not; wondering, that is. After all, he could just be busy. He could be in the shower. He could think me a paranoid, overeager shrew who can't keep a man...no! Sorry. The old, issue-laden Lucky reared her ugly head.
God, this being patient business is nothing short of exhausting. Oh, there's a basketball game on, lovely. That should kill some time (in case you haven't gathered, I'm alone in my room and therefore need the distraction provided by this long post). I could flat-iron my hair, organize my shoes, finish my homework (lol, girlfriend please). I have no class tomorrow therefore a free day to do all of the aforementioned things.
7:25p! What's a measly five minutes? No, no, you're right, it's the principle. This is a much-needed life-lesson. Three minutes...
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Food for Thought
Going Down in Flames, Thanks Guys!!!: Hyper-agressive, Hyper-sexualized: the American Black Man
Check out Top Chef's blog post for today. It's something that I've thought about, but never really devoted the time to converse about. Usually, I talk about things such as this with my dad, but I've been too busy. The first thing I thought when I saw the Vogue cover (besides, "I hate the Cavaliers!" of course) was, "Why is he wearing sweats?" After that, I knew I wasn't the only one to think that. However, more people were concerned with the overall image of once again, the black brute juxtaposed with the angelic white woman. The aggressive stance, the screaming face, the evidence is there. I'm interested in Vogue's and A-Dubs' (Anna Wintour) response because I haven't heard any response to the tremendous amount of backlash that the cover received. It was the annual "Shape" issue which already causes a stir because of its blatant political overtones (as in, oh, see, we do care about fatties!), but the uproar was over the size of the so-called "plus-size" models, not the cover. That alone speaks volumes; the fact that no one (read: the masses, read: the non-black masses) don't care/see the issue that the cover raises, which means that it is an acceptable image to see a roaring black man in sweats holding onto a sweet-faced white model in a designer gown. And therein lies the problem. Again, my question is this, why hasn't Vogue, LeBron, or Gisele said anything more concrete? Perhaps they weren't expecting the uproar over the cover, in sort of a "wtf? we put a black guy on the cover? isn't that enough?" way. Perhaps that's the case, but a statement nonetheless is appropriate in this case. In the words of dear Cali Girl, "silence is violence." No one saying anything, Vogue in particular, indicates, to me, at least, that they don't care enough to at least acknowledge the stir the cover caused, or even that they are willing to admit that they see where the throngs of complaints are coming from. Maybe that was the magazine's intention. Maybe they knew exactly what they were doing with the image, which is why they've been so tight-lipped. As a fair-minded person, I'd like to hear Wintour's side of the story. An apology or statement would indicate that the complaints aren't going unnoticed, at least.
I did a little preliminary digging, and found some Vogue spokeperson saying that the shot was fun, energetic, and upbeat. I kind of want to slap her. James said he was just showing a little emotion, who cares what anyone thinks? (And that is why I hate Ohio. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll stay on topic).
My personal opinion is that the cover is, admittedly, a little much, and although I'm not too worked up about it, I can see why there's controversy. I did do a *side eye* when I saw the cover because to not, in this racially-charged society, question (at least a little) the possible implications of such a picture would be naive of me.
Later, I will dedicate another post to more lighthearted fare like eyebrow waxing, the Boy, and the A- that I got on my Shakespeare midterm (score, right?!). But now's not the time. Stay tuned, though; Lucky's gotten herself a bit worked up about various things, and that doesn't bode well for anyone involved...
Check out Top Chef's blog post for today. It's something that I've thought about, but never really devoted the time to converse about. Usually, I talk about things such as this with my dad, but I've been too busy. The first thing I thought when I saw the Vogue cover (besides, "I hate the Cavaliers!" of course) was, "Why is he wearing sweats?" After that, I knew I wasn't the only one to think that. However, more people were concerned with the overall image of once again, the black brute juxtaposed with the angelic white woman. The aggressive stance, the screaming face, the evidence is there. I'm interested in Vogue's and A-Dubs' (Anna Wintour) response because I haven't heard any response to the tremendous amount of backlash that the cover received. It was the annual "Shape" issue which already causes a stir because of its blatant political overtones (as in, oh, see, we do care about fatties!), but the uproar was over the size of the so-called "plus-size" models, not the cover. That alone speaks volumes; the fact that no one (read: the masses, read: the non-black masses) don't care/see the issue that the cover raises, which means that it is an acceptable image to see a roaring black man in sweats holding onto a sweet-faced white model in a designer gown. And therein lies the problem. Again, my question is this, why hasn't Vogue, LeBron, or Gisele said anything more concrete? Perhaps they weren't expecting the uproar over the cover, in sort of a "wtf? we put a black guy on the cover? isn't that enough?" way. Perhaps that's the case, but a statement nonetheless is appropriate in this case. In the words of dear Cali Girl, "silence is violence." No one saying anything, Vogue in particular, indicates, to me, at least, that they don't care enough to at least acknowledge the stir the cover caused, or even that they are willing to admit that they see where the throngs of complaints are coming from. Maybe that was the magazine's intention. Maybe they knew exactly what they were doing with the image, which is why they've been so tight-lipped. As a fair-minded person, I'd like to hear Wintour's side of the story. An apology or statement would indicate that the complaints aren't going unnoticed, at least.
I did a little preliminary digging, and found some Vogue spokeperson saying that the shot was fun, energetic, and upbeat. I kind of want to slap her. James said he was just showing a little emotion, who cares what anyone thinks? (And that is why I hate Ohio. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll stay on topic).
My personal opinion is that the cover is, admittedly, a little much, and although I'm not too worked up about it, I can see why there's controversy. I did do a *side eye* when I saw the cover because to not, in this racially-charged society, question (at least a little) the possible implications of such a picture would be naive of me.
Later, I will dedicate another post to more lighthearted fare like eyebrow waxing, the Boy, and the A- that I got on my Shakespeare midterm (score, right?!). But now's not the time. Stay tuned, though; Lucky's gotten herself a bit worked up about various things, and that doesn't bode well for anyone involved...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
