I'm still sad. But it's a happy sad. A "sing along to 'The Way You Make Me Feel' through my tears" kind of sad. Before I lost my Favorite Entertainer of All Time, Little Sister and I went to see the midnight premiere of Transformers 2. The theater was hot, and it was long (and a little racist!) but it was a great entertainment. I decided (during a lull in the 2.5 hours of action) that T2 was a combination of movies. SPOILER ALERT.
Harry Potter 7: Optimus Prime dying and whatnot reminded me of Dumbledore's untimely demise. I think I was the only one in the theater who caught the funny part when the mom looks around the college and goes "ooh this is like Hogwarts!"
Also, the Decepticon informed the world that someone must bring forth Sam Witwicky in order to spare the world from destruction. Very Voldemort-esque!!!
War of the Worlds: I myself was exhausted after watching both of these movies.
The Mummy: they were in Egypt a lot, ok?
The Matrix: after every single plot twist and turn, the thing that could save Optimus Pride, and, conveniently, the world, was a doodad called...the matrix. Of all things. Wha? 15 years later, world-saving technology is still limited to the matrix. I shook my head.
I did enjoy it, though, even with Megan Fox's boobies all up in my face and everyone constantly looking perfectly sweaty and dirt-smudged.
Up next in the technically bad but I will probably love it category: GI Joe. Then The Ugly Truth and then, joy of joys! Harry Potter the Sixth. I am so ready.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The Way He Made Me Feel
I can't.
You're telling me that the King of Pop, is gone?
That my favorite artist in the entire world, is no longer with us?
I don't believe you.
My parents' generation has John Lennon. They heard it on the radio. I saw it on CNN. Fucking TMZ.
I was glued to the TV, until it flashed across the screen. Had to close my eyes. Broke down in tears. Never met the man, physically, duh. Don't give a fuck. Still numb. Cried already. Will probably cry again.
The vultures are gonna come. As if they hadn't already. Oh, are you reporting that the stress of media hounding took its toll? No shit.
Listening to Smooth Criminal as we speak. Talking heads on the news getting on my nerves.
When I'm nervous I ask myself, what would Dirty Diana do? I belted "Rock With You" just yesterday. Oh, God, "Rock With You." Cue the tears. "The Way You..." I can't even type it.
I always imagined that was the song I would fall in love to. Never told anyone that before. But I always thought that if I ever needed to know if I was in love, the song "Rock With You" would come on, and he would look into my eyes, smile, and sing along, and I'd know he was The One, because he got it.
Did you know that, Michael? You were supposed to be there when I fell in love. You will be. You said you wanted your music to make you immortal. It will. It has.
Keep looking at the screen, not really watching, still can't believe it. Next time I blast "Streetwalker" in my car, will I cry?
What the hell, Michael? Why, Michael? At the very least, you weren't supposed to die before I saw you in concert! I thought I'd be older when you went. I knew I'd cry though.
This isn't real. Two seconds of "Don't Stop til You Get Enough."
Just cried again.
Update: I saw both my mom and dad shed a tear when they thought I wasn't looking. It's real.
You're telling me that the King of Pop, is gone?
That my favorite artist in the entire world, is no longer with us?
I don't believe you.
My parents' generation has John Lennon. They heard it on the radio. I saw it on CNN. Fucking TMZ.
I was glued to the TV, until it flashed across the screen. Had to close my eyes. Broke down in tears. Never met the man, physically, duh. Don't give a fuck. Still numb. Cried already. Will probably cry again.
The vultures are gonna come. As if they hadn't already. Oh, are you reporting that the stress of media hounding took its toll? No shit.
Listening to Smooth Criminal as we speak. Talking heads on the news getting on my nerves.
When I'm nervous I ask myself, what would Dirty Diana do? I belted "Rock With You" just yesterday. Oh, God, "Rock With You." Cue the tears. "The Way You..." I can't even type it.
I always imagined that was the song I would fall in love to. Never told anyone that before. But I always thought that if I ever needed to know if I was in love, the song "Rock With You" would come on, and he would look into my eyes, smile, and sing along, and I'd know he was The One, because he got it.
Did you know that, Michael? You were supposed to be there when I fell in love. You will be. You said you wanted your music to make you immortal. It will. It has.
Keep looking at the screen, not really watching, still can't believe it. Next time I blast "Streetwalker" in my car, will I cry?
What the hell, Michael? Why, Michael? At the very least, you weren't supposed to die before I saw you in concert! I thought I'd be older when you went. I knew I'd cry though.
This isn't real. Two seconds of "Don't Stop til You Get Enough."
Just cried again.
Update: I saw both my mom and dad shed a tear when they thought I wasn't looking. It's real.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Rainy Ruminations
Hola ladies and gents.
I was totally and completely planning to grovel for your forgiveness tomorrow but that persistent broad, guilt, kept disturbing my sleep. I really do love you guys! I mean, I *think* about posting a lot, which counts for something, right?! Well to me it does ok?
But I will try to honor my bloggerly duties, even if it means sacrificing my thumbs by posting from my Blackberry. Things we do for love.
Honest I do think about yall a lot. For instance after tonight's game I had to drive home in a pitch black, hurling vortex of a thunderstorm and had to use my music as a coping mechanism, ie: don't stop singing along lest your mind wanders to, "oh my God I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I wonder if they'll have a TV special on me hmm it'll drive my 'exes' insane with remorse for treating me bad hmm there's a silver lining oh well as long as they bury me a gangsta big curve sharp turn shhhhiiittttt..." And the only other thing I could think of was "if I live to tell the tale this is defffffinitely going on the blog."
So clearly I've got my priorities straight and yall are at the top of the list :-)
Also for my own convenience here's a list of things I've been meaning to talk about that I can refer to when I inevitably sit down to post and get smacked with a case of Empty Brain/Lack of Creativity:
-WNBA: my thoughts so far
-dream house
-close call with my sister
-family ruminations contd
-this episode of What Not to Wear that totally struck a chord
-the squirrel and the freeway
Obvs only wrote tidbits so as not to give it all away too soon (we know me). So stay tuned, all!
Yours in faithful, bespectacled service,
Luckylicious
I was totally and completely planning to grovel for your forgiveness tomorrow but that persistent broad, guilt, kept disturbing my sleep. I really do love you guys! I mean, I *think* about posting a lot, which counts for something, right?! Well to me it does ok?
But I will try to honor my bloggerly duties, even if it means sacrificing my thumbs by posting from my Blackberry. Things we do for love.
Honest I do think about yall a lot. For instance after tonight's game I had to drive home in a pitch black, hurling vortex of a thunderstorm and had to use my music as a coping mechanism, ie: don't stop singing along lest your mind wanders to, "oh my God I'm gonna die I'm gonna die I wonder if they'll have a TV special on me hmm it'll drive my 'exes' insane with remorse for treating me bad hmm there's a silver lining oh well as long as they bury me a gangsta big curve sharp turn shhhhiiittttt..." And the only other thing I could think of was "if I live to tell the tale this is defffffinitely going on the blog."
So clearly I've got my priorities straight and yall are at the top of the list :-)
Also for my own convenience here's a list of things I've been meaning to talk about that I can refer to when I inevitably sit down to post and get smacked with a case of Empty Brain/Lack of Creativity:
-WNBA: my thoughts so far
-dream house
-close call with my sister
-family ruminations contd
-this episode of What Not to Wear that totally struck a chord
-the squirrel and the freeway
Obvs only wrote tidbits so as not to give it all away too soon (we know me). So stay tuned, all!
Yours in faithful, bespectacled service,
Luckylicious
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Wedding or Circus?
Things have been a little heavy in my mind (and, sigh, in my jeans...) so really quick, so I spread a little good energy around:
I am LIKE COMPLETELY OBSESSED with Who's Wedding is it Anyway. Every time I watch it I mentally add another idea to my list of wedding stuff for my proverbial Big Day like a million years in the future.
-purple/fuschia as one of the wedding colors
-chocolate cake (I wish. Apparently not everybody likes chocolate cake *sad face*)
-long wavy hair (for me, duh)
-our own vows
-NO Pachebel's Canon in D (I was forced to play it on the piano for guests as a child and have never really gotten over it) or Vivaldi
-no tulle. Anywhere.
-or, omigod, updos
-a rehearsal barbecue instead of rehearsal dinner
I could go on and on.
Linyette, the no-nonsense, good-natured black lady from Baltimore, is my favorite wedding planner, FYI.
The funniest episode was the wedding between this snooty blonde [gold-digger] and this stereotypical, Bart Bass-type dude. They kept pushing the date back, too. The first time, the couple was "having problems" which was totally code for one of these numbers:
"You don't care about this wedding or you would have came to the cake tasting with me!"
"Don't care? Don't care? I was busting my ass at work trying to pay for the goddamned cake!"
But apparently, things were smoothed out, and preparations commenced for the new date. Then, the already overworked Kevin and his team of wedding planners start getting calls from angry vendors with unpaid bills. Oh, snap, right?! Looks like Mr. Moneybags ain't so moneyed! I could imagine that fight, too
"Do you know how embarrassing it is for our celebrity wedding planner to tell me that the florist hasn't been paid? In front of my friends? In front of the cameras? IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER?!?!"
"Why did you order a hundred different types of fucking flowers anyway?"
"Oh, now you want to add your input!"
And of course, the lady took it out on poor Kevin, griping at him when he asked her if they were going to pay $1500 for parking, something the bride hadn't thought of but was clearly in the pamphlet he gave her at the beginning of the plans. Later that night, I'm sure:
"I totally gave Kevin hell today worrying about fucking parking. And for what?! If your money's funny and we can't pay for this wedding I swear to God..."
Our brave weddling planner manages to soothe the ires of the florists, bakers, dressmakers, etc, and they even give the couple until Thursday to pay their bills. Thursday comes and goes, no word from the happy couple. Heroically, miraculously, Kevin manages to extend the deadline until Friday afternoon. And still no word from the couple! At this rate, my mouth is gaping open, this is un-fucking-leviable!
Kevin has to go around and tell the various vendors that this particular wedding is pretty much a no-go at this point, and finally, he ends up at the lady's house, where she tells him that the wedding's not happening. She sounds pretty vague, as if there may be a slim chance that her and [her money train] Bart Bass 2.0 can work things out, silently imploring Kevin to keep her as a client. But Kevin reads her like a book. If the wedding was totally off, there would be no need to say so anyway, but he tells her flat-out and very politely, that he couldn't work with her anymore. Even though her wedding was just cancelled, I was secretly kind of happy that Kevin gave her the heave-ho because she was a brat.
Clearly, I've invested a lot into this show.
I am LIKE COMPLETELY OBSESSED with Who's Wedding is it Anyway. Every time I watch it I mentally add another idea to my list of wedding stuff for my proverbial Big Day like a million years in the future.
-purple/fuschia as one of the wedding colors
-chocolate cake (I wish. Apparently not everybody likes chocolate cake *sad face*)
-long wavy hair (for me, duh)
-our own vows
-NO Pachebel's Canon in D (I was forced to play it on the piano for guests as a child and have never really gotten over it) or Vivaldi
-no tulle. Anywhere.
-or, omigod, updos
-a rehearsal barbecue instead of rehearsal dinner
I could go on and on.
Linyette, the no-nonsense, good-natured black lady from Baltimore, is my favorite wedding planner, FYI.
The funniest episode was the wedding between this snooty blonde [gold-digger] and this stereotypical, Bart Bass-type dude. They kept pushing the date back, too. The first time, the couple was "having problems" which was totally code for one of these numbers:
"You don't care about this wedding or you would have came to the cake tasting with me!"
"Don't care? Don't care? I was busting my ass at work trying to pay for the goddamned cake!"
But apparently, things were smoothed out, and preparations commenced for the new date. Then, the already overworked Kevin and his team of wedding planners start getting calls from angry vendors with unpaid bills. Oh, snap, right?! Looks like Mr. Moneybags ain't so moneyed! I could imagine that fight, too
"Do you know how embarrassing it is for our celebrity wedding planner to tell me that the florist hasn't been paid? In front of my friends? In front of the cameras? IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER?!?!"
"Why did you order a hundred different types of fucking flowers anyway?"
"Oh, now you want to add your input!"
And of course, the lady took it out on poor Kevin, griping at him when he asked her if they were going to pay $1500 for parking, something the bride hadn't thought of but was clearly in the pamphlet he gave her at the beginning of the plans. Later that night, I'm sure:
"I totally gave Kevin hell today worrying about fucking parking. And for what?! If your money's funny and we can't pay for this wedding I swear to God..."
Our brave weddling planner manages to soothe the ires of the florists, bakers, dressmakers, etc, and they even give the couple until Thursday to pay their bills. Thursday comes and goes, no word from the happy couple. Heroically, miraculously, Kevin manages to extend the deadline until Friday afternoon. And still no word from the couple! At this rate, my mouth is gaping open, this is un-fucking-leviable!
Kevin has to go around and tell the various vendors that this particular wedding is pretty much a no-go at this point, and finally, he ends up at the lady's house, where she tells him that the wedding's not happening. She sounds pretty vague, as if there may be a slim chance that her and [her money train] Bart Bass 2.0 can work things out, silently imploring Kevin to keep her as a client. But Kevin reads her like a book. If the wedding was totally off, there would be no need to say so anyway, but he tells her flat-out and very politely, that he couldn't work with her anymore. Even though her wedding was just cancelled, I was secretly kind of happy that Kevin gave her the heave-ho because she was a brat.
Clearly, I've invested a lot into this show.
Life Lessons on a Saturday Night
In the interest of time and a DVD, I'll make this short.
Tonight, I had a revelation that my views on my Middle Sister have been clouded by judgment. Judgment from me as well as my parents. And by "as well as" I mean probably "largely because of." She's made mistakes throughout middle and high school: bad decisions, wrong crowd of friends. She's a good kid, she just has a lot of defenses, a lot of attitude, and probably, a lot expected of her (my being the Prodigal Daughter and all--I'm joking but I'm serious). There have been skids that have made her seem--and sometimes be?--untrustworthy, and for a long time, it seemed like issue after issue. The best thing was for me to keep her somewhat at length so her destructiveness wouldn't take an emotional toll on me. I just hated the fighting, the atmosphere, the tension.
Since I've been home for the summer, she's kept her nose clean (but NOT, dear God, her bedroom), but you'd never guess it from the way my parents interrogate her every time she steps outside the house after 7pm. I usually thought nothing of it, surely there was some indiscretion she was still being punished for, right? Tonight, I even tried to talk to her about it, and how she responded really made me think. I asked her why she wasn't willing to alter her behavior to regain our parents' trust. Telling us she's going to a party as she walks out the door and being vague about who's throwing it would breed suspicion from the most lax of parents (hopefully). Which I told her, which she understood. But then she pointed out that no matter what she does, they treat her the same. There has been no incident directly involving her that I know of, yet as I think about it, but now that I think about it, the antagonizing from my parents would seriously suggest otherwise.
As I drove back home after dropping her off, I really thought about it. My parents can only see my sister for what she was, not what she is trying to do to move on/improve. And sadly, I realized that I was guilty of the same thing because of our own relationship. I was so ready to believe the worst of her, not even considering that perhaps she was changing but we refused to see it. I can't believe I missed it, how blind I've been, perhaps because my mom sometimes turned to me for advice/to rant about Middle Sister's latest shenanigans. I had liked to think of myself as a mediator of sorts, but I really was a translator, a negotiator for one party only. Now that I think about it, whenever there's a conflict, I try to gently explain my parents' rationale, however faulty, to the offending child, while mentally checking out of the situation. I thought that was my job as a daughter, the oldest daughter, to be an apostle, preaching the words of those who I was supposed to be loyal to first and foremost: my parents. In most cases, I really do think that a kid must follow his or her parents' wishes ("as long as you live in this house!"), but as we've gotten older, there has been slight room to haggle. It's time for the haggling to benefit both parties, not just the most powerful.
Don't get me wrong, Middle Sister still can be, ahem, difficult, but she and Little Sister are indeed the apples of my eye. I owe it to her to start being in her corner publicly, not just in my own head to make myself feel better. Wow. Looks like I'm not the Prodigal Daughter after all.
Well, in this case.
Tonight, I had a revelation that my views on my Middle Sister have been clouded by judgment. Judgment from me as well as my parents. And by "as well as" I mean probably "largely because of." She's made mistakes throughout middle and high school: bad decisions, wrong crowd of friends. She's a good kid, she just has a lot of defenses, a lot of attitude, and probably, a lot expected of her (my being the Prodigal Daughter and all--I'm joking but I'm serious). There have been skids that have made her seem--and sometimes be?--untrustworthy, and for a long time, it seemed like issue after issue. The best thing was for me to keep her somewhat at length so her destructiveness wouldn't take an emotional toll on me. I just hated the fighting, the atmosphere, the tension.
Since I've been home for the summer, she's kept her nose clean (but NOT, dear God, her bedroom), but you'd never guess it from the way my parents interrogate her every time she steps outside the house after 7pm. I usually thought nothing of it, surely there was some indiscretion she was still being punished for, right? Tonight, I even tried to talk to her about it, and how she responded really made me think. I asked her why she wasn't willing to alter her behavior to regain our parents' trust. Telling us she's going to a party as she walks out the door and being vague about who's throwing it would breed suspicion from the most lax of parents (hopefully). Which I told her, which she understood. But then she pointed out that no matter what she does, they treat her the same. There has been no incident directly involving her that I know of, yet as I think about it, but now that I think about it, the antagonizing from my parents would seriously suggest otherwise.
As I drove back home after dropping her off, I really thought about it. My parents can only see my sister for what she was, not what she is trying to do to move on/improve. And sadly, I realized that I was guilty of the same thing because of our own relationship. I was so ready to believe the worst of her, not even considering that perhaps she was changing but we refused to see it. I can't believe I missed it, how blind I've been, perhaps because my mom sometimes turned to me for advice/to rant about Middle Sister's latest shenanigans. I had liked to think of myself as a mediator of sorts, but I really was a translator, a negotiator for one party only. Now that I think about it, whenever there's a conflict, I try to gently explain my parents' rationale, however faulty, to the offending child, while mentally checking out of the situation. I thought that was my job as a daughter, the oldest daughter, to be an apostle, preaching the words of those who I was supposed to be loyal to first and foremost: my parents. In most cases, I really do think that a kid must follow his or her parents' wishes ("as long as you live in this house!"), but as we've gotten older, there has been slight room to haggle. It's time for the haggling to benefit both parties, not just the most powerful.
Don't get me wrong, Middle Sister still can be, ahem, difficult, but she and Little Sister are indeed the apples of my eye. I owe it to her to start being in her corner publicly, not just in my own head to make myself feel better. Wow. Looks like I'm not the Prodigal Daughter after all.
Well, in this case.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Issue-Laden
Ok I lied rant back on.
Worries:
-I haven't had the time (nor, if we're being honest, the inclination) to exercise in awhile. I have, however, had time to eat AND EAT and I'm afraid it will catch up with me sooner that later
-Sometimes, while reflecting about the past three years in preparation for my senior year (WHOOOO!!), I'm scared I'll make the same mistakes in terms of friendships, relationships, etc and let people treat me any kind of way and respond destructively.
-My sisters are growing up before my bespectacled eyes and I hate it. HATE HATE HATE it. Drove Little Sister to her piano lesson and while we were goofing off in the car I totally almost burst into tears because she's about to start high school and then she will probably definitely be too cool for me :-( also, Middle Sister is about to start college and I'm really scared that our personality differences will tear us apart.
-I've been feeling quite insecure lately. Inadequate, lacking, unrelatable almost; even incapable at human interaction. Like, I enjoy being alone but then I like it too much that I'm closed off so even when I want company I'm stuck on my solitary island. An island with lots of books and pretzels, but seldom other people.
-Also it's my last year to find a college boyfriend. Even though, I don't think about it as much as I used to. However, when what has been a central worry is now on the back burner compared to my other worries, I get mighty worried. At least I still have my wit.
That felt amazingly amazing to get off my chest, once again. Blogtherapy. Better than tequila.
Worries:
-I haven't had the time (nor, if we're being honest, the inclination) to exercise in awhile. I have, however, had time to eat AND EAT and I'm afraid it will catch up with me sooner that later
-Sometimes, while reflecting about the past three years in preparation for my senior year (WHOOOO!!), I'm scared I'll make the same mistakes in terms of friendships, relationships, etc and let people treat me any kind of way and respond destructively.
-My sisters are growing up before my bespectacled eyes and I hate it. HATE HATE HATE it. Drove Little Sister to her piano lesson and while we were goofing off in the car I totally almost burst into tears because she's about to start high school and then she will probably definitely be too cool for me :-( also, Middle Sister is about to start college and I'm really scared that our personality differences will tear us apart.
-I've been feeling quite insecure lately. Inadequate, lacking, unrelatable almost; even incapable at human interaction. Like, I enjoy being alone but then I like it too much that I'm closed off so even when I want company I'm stuck on my solitary island. An island with lots of books and pretzels, but seldom other people.
-Also it's my last year to find a college boyfriend. Even though, I don't think about it as much as I used to. However, when what has been a central worry is now on the back burner compared to my other worries, I get mighty worried. At least I still have my wit.
That felt amazingly amazing to get off my chest, once again. Blogtherapy. Better than tequila.
I Need a Financial Bailout
I often joke around when the words aren't flowing like I need them to, saying things like "Who hired me?" "Why did I choose to be a writer?" in jest, of course.
This WNBA internship affords me lots of opportunities to write stories, one thing I thought I was good at--well, people have told me I'm good at, some [ok many] days I think I suck and words just appear out of my ass and apparently people like them. Or did they?
Maybe it's a college-to-professional growing pains thing. I know the ins and outs of editing and journalism and critiquing but let me be a baby for a second: WAAAHHH MY "EDITOR" KEEPS CHANGING MY STORIES TOTALLY AROUND AND I'M STARTING TO THINK I SUCK FOR REAL FOR REALS. *pouts*
End rant. I'm going to be mature about this and ask that instead of me turning in a story and reading something completely different (I get that my writing needs work...or do I? See above) I could work more closely with him as he edits, time permitting of course. Is that a good idea? I hope it is. I might chicken out though--which I doubt because my "editor" is cool. I put "editor" in quotes because he's probably not even thirty yet and he reminds me of Seth Cohen. Totally not intimidating. Anyway, I'm going to learn from this internship if it kills me: this is just what I need, someone totally unbiased to edit, rearrange, prune, Botox, chop, screw, sautee, and iron out my wrinkly articles until they are silky smooth with perfection. But I want my stories to sound different from his, you know? He's a really good writer (I'm jealous/admiring) but he's not me, and if I've learned anything it's that you (I) need your own writing voice, which I'm working on, by the way.
Whew. I'm glad I got that off my chest. Oh and I'm scared I'll get kicked out of my place back in Southern State because we (my parents) never pay the rent on time. Without getting too deep into it, I've always been weird about asking for money from my parents, because a) I'm cheap 2) we haven't always had it and I couldn't stand the thought of being a burden. Even though it's important (so I won't be homeless duh), I can't fathom bitching about it to parents who have to put two more kids through college soon (Middle Sister class of 2013, go Bison! awww I'm so proud) amidst this little thing called The Greatest Recession Since the Greatest Depression which hit our city and our family hard. Like rock through a windshield hard.
So it's like yeah I know my family's situation but at the same time I understand my roommate needs the money so she's getting an attitude with ME because I'm around even though I'm like bish it's not coming out of my pocket no matter how many times you psuedo-lecture me about the rent being My Responsibility and It's How You Build Credit, You Know (true story). If you're Person A and Person C has your money, I wouldn't keep going through Person B. That's just how I look at it; maybe I'm bang out of order. I don't know what to do. If someone does, don't be stingy, share the knowledge so my hair doesn't fall out with stress and I end up weeping silently into my iced tea.
This WNBA internship affords me lots of opportunities to write stories, one thing I thought I was good at--well, people have told me I'm good at, some [ok many] days I think I suck and words just appear out of my ass and apparently people like them. Or did they?
Maybe it's a college-to-professional growing pains thing. I know the ins and outs of editing and journalism and critiquing but let me be a baby for a second: WAAAHHH MY "EDITOR" KEEPS CHANGING MY STORIES TOTALLY AROUND AND I'M STARTING TO THINK I SUCK FOR REAL FOR REALS. *pouts*
End rant. I'm going to be mature about this and ask that instead of me turning in a story and reading something completely different (I get that my writing needs work...or do I? See above) I could work more closely with him as he edits, time permitting of course. Is that a good idea? I hope it is. I might chicken out though--which I doubt because my "editor" is cool. I put "editor" in quotes because he's probably not even thirty yet and he reminds me of Seth Cohen. Totally not intimidating. Anyway, I'm going to learn from this internship if it kills me: this is just what I need, someone totally unbiased to edit, rearrange, prune, Botox, chop, screw, sautee, and iron out my wrinkly articles until they are silky smooth with perfection. But I want my stories to sound different from his, you know? He's a really good writer (I'm jealous/admiring) but he's not me, and if I've learned anything it's that you (I) need your own writing voice, which I'm working on, by the way.
Whew. I'm glad I got that off my chest. Oh and I'm scared I'll get kicked out of my place back in Southern State because we (my parents) never pay the rent on time. Without getting too deep into it, I've always been weird about asking for money from my parents, because a) I'm cheap 2) we haven't always had it and I couldn't stand the thought of being a burden. Even though it's important (so I won't be homeless duh), I can't fathom bitching about it to parents who have to put two more kids through college soon (Middle Sister class of 2013, go Bison! awww I'm so proud) amidst this little thing called The Greatest Recession Since the Greatest Depression which hit our city and our family hard. Like rock through a windshield hard.
So it's like yeah I know my family's situation but at the same time I understand my roommate needs the money so she's getting an attitude with ME because I'm around even though I'm like bish it's not coming out of my pocket no matter how many times you psuedo-lecture me about the rent being My Responsibility and It's How You Build Credit, You Know (true story). If you're Person A and Person C has your money, I wouldn't keep going through Person B. That's just how I look at it; maybe I'm bang out of order. I don't know what to do. If someone does, don't be stingy, share the knowledge so my hair doesn't fall out with stress and I end up weeping silently into my iced tea.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Dirty Harriet Goes to Work
When an assignment must be done, what do we do? BLOG!
Covered a lovely community relations event today and now am trying to craft a story out of a page of notes and a Gossip Girl-addled brain. To the uneducated eye, it can appear as if I'm procrastinating, but ah, 'tis a FOOL who thinks that! It's all a part of my process. I putz around on the internet, watch some TV on DVD, put on some lotion, and BAM. A Pulitzer-worthy article comes spilling out of nowhere. We're still in the putzing and DVD phase, so this might take awhile.
Remember when I totally George Foremaned my hand (on the oven)? The resulting burn looks like a tiny grill mark and is distracting as I absentmindedly type on the keyboard...
Dressing business casual is not my forte. Button downs and slacks and pumps are hateful. Hateful, I tell you. When I actually wear pumps, that is. Even though at TV Station we had to dress appropriately, that was like a year ago and at Big Sports Station the dress code was like one step above sweatpants so now I'm lazy. I work with two shirt and tie guys and the other PR girls are these svelte creatures who wear pencil skirts and four-inch heels and sparkly tank tops underneath their shirts and then there's me. No style-havin', would rather be wearing jeans and flip-flops, forever wrinkled ol' me. I tell ya. I wasn't made to wear professional attire.
I wish I was Serena van der Woodsen. SHE knows how to dress.
Covered a lovely community relations event today and now am trying to craft a story out of a page of notes and a Gossip Girl-addled brain. To the uneducated eye, it can appear as if I'm procrastinating, but ah, 'tis a FOOL who thinks that! It's all a part of my process. I putz around on the internet, watch some TV on DVD, put on some lotion, and BAM. A Pulitzer-worthy article comes spilling out of nowhere. We're still in the putzing and DVD phase, so this might take awhile.
Remember when I totally George Foremaned my hand (on the oven)? The resulting burn looks like a tiny grill mark and is distracting as I absentmindedly type on the keyboard...
Dressing business casual is not my forte. Button downs and slacks and pumps are hateful. Hateful, I tell you. When I actually wear pumps, that is. Even though at TV Station we had to dress appropriately, that was like a year ago and at Big Sports Station the dress code was like one step above sweatpants so now I'm lazy. I work with two shirt and tie guys and the other PR girls are these svelte creatures who wear pencil skirts and four-inch heels and sparkly tank tops underneath their shirts and then there's me. No style-havin', would rather be wearing jeans and flip-flops, forever wrinkled ol' me. I tell ya. I wasn't made to wear professional attire.
I wish I was Serena van der Woodsen. SHE knows how to dress.
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