Yes, I am Complaining...but it's My Blog

It seems as if everything is bugging me/driving me up the wall. Everything is a pet-peeve. I can't stop thinking about things that trouble me or make me upset. Lately, even things like race relations, gay rights, self-reflection, and the environment have been on my mind.

Usually I counter these thoughts with singing (loudly) and favorite movie scenes and the like, but it's tiring. I really think it's a result of stress. Not even that I'm stressed I'm just tired. I almost flat-out refused to go to TV Station today. I want to sleep in. I want to read trashy novels and drink cherry Slurpees by the gallon (make that a Passion Fruit Bubble Tea) and go swimming and watch marathons and expand my DVD collection. You know, things you're supposed to do in the summertime. I mean, yes, the money and experience will be worth it and I really am grateful for these opportunities, and I enjoy myself usually and if the situations were reversed I'd wish I had a job and two internships, but I need a breather. And what's the point of making money if you're so stingy with your off-hours that you won't consider leaving the house if you don't have to?

Consider this: I have not been on Dlisted ALL DAY. That just should not happen.

I know, I know, it's called being an adult. Call me a spoiled freeloader. But I have the rest of my life to be an adult, and consequently, the window of being able to be a spoiled freeloader is getting smaller and smaller as I get older. I promise I will become a responsible, productive, tax-paying contributor to society when I "have" to. For now, though, if it's okay, I'd really just like to go swimming.

A Sign that I Might be Overworked

Will write more later, for now exhausted. Had to put the store (VS) back to rights after the Big Sale last night-turned-morning. Wanted to slit my wrists; will never get tricked into taking 9pm to what was supposed to be 5:30am but turned into 8am shift EVER AGAIN. But will this prevent me from going straight from TV Station tomorrow to shop at the very mall at which I toil? No, as you may have guessed, it will not.

Anyway, I could be losing my mind: the other night, I had a dream that Amy Winehouse was blowing crack-laced smoke in my kitchen, and that my mother (my mother! Who has never had anything stronger than an Apple Martini in her life) was smoking a joint in the basement.

Disturbing in every sense of the word.

I Found It!

Behold:

"Delayed Devotion" by Duffy




Yee-haw. One song down, one to go. Later maybe we'll chat about our Fourths of July and my eventful morning, but for now, feast your eyes (ears) on this.

Inspiration Pending...Stay Tuned

I will be asleep soon, I promise.

Hodge-podge: (n) a heterogeneous mixture. Lucky's persona.

You know how some people are all, "I am who I am no matter who I'm with, what you see is what you get, I'm real all the time,"? I wish I had that luxury. Not that I'm fake, just extremely multi-dimensional, perhaps. Different ways on different days. Sometimes it bothers me because I'm unsure of who I am at my essence. I've never sat down to really figure it out. What's the criteria for an essence, anyway? I'm having trouble expressing myself, my true self. As a result, because I don't know which way to go, I get complacent and go nowhere, or worse, go plain and unadorned. For example, if you ask me to picture my perfect room, I would draw a complete blank, and end up in something totally bland, you know? I can't find anything that accurately describes or encapsulates me--sometimes it seems like I'm all over the place and can't pinpoint the style or philosophy or lifestyle that I want for myself.

I guess that can be a good thing, a lot of things make me happy or satisfy me. Along with being "mysterious," I can keep 'em guessing. But I also feel like it's cheating in a way because I can never narrow anything down. Nothing ever seems both coherent and authentic, just a thrown-together montage. It scares me a little, honestly. Like, there's nothing uniquely "me" about my environment. I have a little bit of everything, but I want it to be more exclusive, like, you could look at something and without a doubt think, "oh, that must belong to Lucky," because it represents me so well.

I have an idea, though (solution-based problem-solving!). I will revert to the artistic days of my youth. Maybe I'll be a total dork and make a collage or something, maybe that will help me get an idea of who I am and what I like. Or maybe it will just force me to step back, look at the bigger picture, and realize that maybe being all over the place isn't such a bad place to be.

Hanging On, but Just Barely

This is how I look and feel right about now.

I haves a headache, my legs still hurt, and I still have loads to do before my head can come anywhere near a pillow.

Spent most of the day at TV Station stuffing those damned envelopes again, and this time without the pleasure of Sarcastic Intern's company; she's in LA with her boyfriend. Must be muthafukkin nice.

You'll have to excuse me once again, I really am exhausted and my room looks like the Titanic after the that nasty run-in with the iceberg.

I had another celebrity man-candy dream again last night, this time about Lil' Wayne. He was really nice and he gave me a ride in his Hummer. And no, I didn't mean that as a sex euphemism or anything. For once.

People I barely know continue to say complimentary things about me because of the scholarship, which is really quite flattering. Apparently this is the first year this scholarship has ever been given out, which, in case you didn't know, makes me kind of a big deal. LOL. Just kidding.

I really do have work to do tonight; some stuff for The Paper and with my other internship for Local Record Label. Also, I work on Saturday and have to cover a downtown festival this weekend for TV Station. Whew! Didya catch all that?

I feel there will be another long letter-type post coming up soon. I haven't decided if I want to air that particular bit of proverbial dirty laundry on this blog yet.

That being said, I must bid y'all adieu for tonight, I'm pooped. Happy 4th of July, eat some barbecue and crack a brewsky in my honor (or, better yet, something with tequila. No drinky-poos for me until I get back to school, ha)!
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeeeertr

Whoops, sorry. Almost fell asleep sitting up. My bad. Leaving, now.

Out of Shape and Out of My Mind

Before I begin, I want to thank everybody who congratulated me about my scholarship! I really appreciate it. My journey was a struggle, but I walked with Jesus and he led me to the light (and six months' rent). Anyway, please excuse any typos; I am in pain and craving ice cream and a hug. Here is my tale of woe:

I get bored easily when it comes to workouts, so when I decided to exercise yesterday, I wanted to try something new. Feeling, as I often am, inspired by the movie "Stick It" and Missy Peregrym's ridiculously toned body in the movie, I decided to do the conditioning exercises that we used to do in cheerleading back in high school. Oh, my naivete. When I started, I even thought, "Hmm, I'll need other stuff to do, too, just in case this is too easy."

Holy mother of calisthenics, help me, oh Lord, call me No-Legs Mahoney because I cannot move. How did I used to do these moves for an hour every day? And talk and laugh while I did them? I remember the number of reps we usually did, and fast-forward three years later, I had to cut that number in half so I didn't pass out. This me pats my old me on the well-muscled back; I was in fantastic shape life back then and totally took it for granted. To, think, I even thought I was too fat! I tell you, I sincerely hope my best days aren't behind me.

Don't you think I'm like 50 years old, talking like this?

Today, at TV Station, I actually passed the Holy Grail of internships: being delegated to stuffing envelopes. For SEVEN HOURS. It wasn't bad; all the female interns were there, and we just gossiped and got to know each other while we worked. Some I thought were rude or standoffish or just plain boring are actually quite witty and nice.

Sarcastic Intern, for example, is a "hoot" (her words, not mine). She's a little blond with lots of dry humor**, likes New York Magazine (like me), interned for a Famous LA Record Company, and has the Blackberry Curve. Bubbly Intern is just that, she's really sweet but she's having man-issues. I was kind of standoffish to her at first but I try and make up for it now because she's such a sweetie. DM Intern (for Dunder Mifflin, 'cause she really likes "The Office") is nice, too, telling us about all the nasty but comical fights she's had with her boyfriend. Sales Intern is really cool, too, she's been at TV Station for three years on a five-year internship. So, yeah, we (along with Intern Eazy E, who I also lurrve) just stuffed and chatted all day. 'Twas great. They ALL have boyfriends, though. I chipped in with my own various experiences, but left my own single status very vague; when Bubbly Intn. made a reference to my nonexistent boyfriend, I didn't correct her. So sue me...

OW OW FUCKITY OWWWW!!! I just had to walk upstairs and had to settle for muttering pain-laced obscenities under my breath because my legs are on fire, with old muscle ripping to make room for the new one. Fuck, it hurts. My left knee is absolutely knotted, and it's not even my bad knee. The one consolation is that I can already see the cuts of muscle popping out on the sides of my legs. Over the course of the day, the pain seemed to subside, even though I walked with an oh-so-attractive limp. But, being ever the optimist (or sadist), I did yoga this evening, thinking that some stretching would ease my tight muscles. Wrong-o. I still can barely walk without whimpering and howling like a constipated banshee. I'm hobbling like a new hooker after a double shift.

Great. Youngest Sister just stormed off because I wouldn't listen to Vanessa Hudgens while I typed this post. But, in between a bum knee, my rebellious hair, and the phone that won't stop ringing, I just...can't. I don't want that mess contaminating my YouTube queue. But I guess I had better stumble up the stairs and apologize. I shouldn't take my crippled status out on her, even if she is beating me over the head with fun facts about the little Disney starlet.

**An example of said humor: Bubbly Intn. was having a fight via text messaging with her boyfriend, who is apparently, being seduced by a vixenish trollop:

-Me: "Oh, so there's another girl involved?"
-Sarcastic Intern: "Yeah, she's a total slut. Nice girl, though."

Loose Ends

When things wrap up or end in my life, I like them to be wrapped and tied neatly. I hate loose ends; they can either fascinate me or drive me bonkers. Like those books my mom gave me when I was younger where you could make up your own ending? I hated them with a passion. When I can't find something, I go crazy. Like, at school, I couldn't find my flatiron in the 12x12 space of my dorm room, and it was the most frustrating thing, ever (I still can't find it. That room was like a Black Hole for hair tools). And now, the same thing is happening: at work, there's a soundtrack that we play every day, seemingly. I like the songs on there, there's some Amy Winehouse, Corrinne Bailey Rae, and India Arie, plus the theme song from Grey's Anatomy (weird, right? I'd never heard the song without the show). Here in lies the problem, though; there are two songs I like enough to download, but I can't figure out the artist or title to either one! No one who works there knows, either (actually I don't think they care too much. I try to listen out for the lyrics to Google them, but nothing's coming up! There has never been a song that I liked that I couldn't find, and I will NOT be defeated by these two! But seriously, it's making me batty.

Last night I had a dream about Chris Brown. Of course I don't remember anything important, except for me looking up to see him standing there, looking just like this. Like, this picture, in the deliciously, taut, sweaty flesh. Yum-o. Needless to say, that was a good dream. I don't remember him saying anything. But we know I like them dumb and hot (ha).

I just lost my train of thought.

Oh, now I remember. My resolve was close to being shattered at work today. All these couples and ladies buying bridal lingerie and other sexy stuff kept coming in and fucking with my head. Like, enough so that I almost ducked behind the a panty display to text the Runner. WTF, right? Sometimes I am weak.