One week from right now I will be on a plane back to Texas, the day after Christmas.
Doing it that way has me sort of excited. It means the whole Christmas thing is sort of drawn out, celebrated here with the family and in Texas with the friends. I'm looking forward to that.
Tonight I found myself getting angry because I heard about someone's random play. It's sort of stupid of me, I know, because I don't have any control over it and it doesn't affect me (Dan is so rational sometimes, telling me not to worry if it doesn't affect me, but I can't help it sometimes).
What ever happened to going out on a date with someone before getting into stuff like that? Why do people put themselves out there like that, and why aren't there some people with the dignity not to take everything possible as soon as possible? Can't anyone turn anything down these days?
Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.
And by the way, yeah, I'm done getting self-righteous now. I have very, very few things to get annoyed with as far as my own life goes. Except perhaps that the cat keeps taking my seat if I ever get up and go to my room or kitchen. She's addicted to warm spots. And there's a Biore Pore Perfect commercial about do you ever wish you could wear 4-inch heels without the pain? Or have perfect skin without too much shine or oil? Every single girl in that commercial is wearing a scarf. Take a look. It's vaguely funny.
My sister gets in tomorrow. I'm looking forward to that because it will be the family back together again. The four of us are better together than all separated. She called me at 1 a.m. to tell me about a white-light horse at Wal-Mart, like those reindeer people put in their yard. I think she was right: no one else would get it.
This is the first Christmas without Ginger, our orange tabby cat. He died in May, and it's weird having the tree up without him sleeping under it all the time and hooking all the ornaments down with his paws. He was 18 years old when he died, and Mom hung up his favorite knit ornament in honor of him, down where he could have reached it if he wanted to.
It seems Christmas Carol-ish, but everything this time of year is a big jumble of the past, present and future. And all three are pretty good. And TBS is still doing the 24 hours of the Christmas Story. Score.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
I Survived!
Monday night I flew into the Tampa airport, my first time in Florida since right after my freshman year. Back then, I'd been out of school for about two weeks and my friend Christine from TCU drove to Alabama, where we were living, and she and I drove down to Fort Walton Beach in north Floriday for the day. We got THE WORST sunburns ever. Ever. Seriously. I fell asleep on my stomach, and thank god my ass didn't get burned, but I couldn't sit except on the edge of chairs for a few weeks. It blistered the back of my legs. Just when I recovered from that, I shattered my arm falling off a horse and was in a splint for months. Altogether, the sunburn involved more pain.
Bu yeah, I'm back in Florida. It's 75 degrees right now. I went out to practise my lacrosse skills so Dan doesn't kill me on the practise field, and it was hot and sunny and I was in a tanktop and rolled-up jeans and still hot. My goal is to get a little bit of a tan out there on the raquetball court. It would be fantabulous.
Tuesday I slept till noon, lounged around the house with the cat, went out for a walk, and spent the evening with my parents. Yesterday I got up and started some work on my final project, my feature about nature and hurricanes for my magazine writing class with Doug. I had a dentist appointment in the afternoon, and that took way longer than I expected, so I had to rush to finish my feature. It got sent it at deadline, but I'm not happy with it. I don't think it's nearly as good as it could be.
Which is disturbing. I thought I wanted to be a science magazine writer, but I have zero aptitude for magazine writing. Doug talks about the differences between a notion and an idea, and all my story pitches fell flat, except the last one, and this is the topic I least wanted to write about. But what can you do? At least I still largely whupped everyone else's ass in the newswriting class.
I like the XM radio commercial where Snoop's bling gets ripped by David Bowie.
I also like being here with my parents, but Florida is not home. I love my parents so, so much, and I'm so grateful to them for everything they give me, but my life is not here anymore. My life is in Boston, with Megan and school and my schoolmates, and my life is in Fort Worth, with my sister and friends and school and Topper and Dan. With my teeth pretty feeling again and my mouth all fresh and all of me feeling showered and unstressed and relaxed and cute again, I'm so ready to kiss him and have him around all the time again.
Don't get me wrong, I liked kissing Miss Erin Steen last New Year's, but now that she's engaged in Wisconsin, I dunno if I could arrange that again. I think Dan will make a good substitute, though. =c)
Bu yeah, I'm back in Florida. It's 75 degrees right now. I went out to practise my lacrosse skills so Dan doesn't kill me on the practise field, and it was hot and sunny and I was in a tanktop and rolled-up jeans and still hot. My goal is to get a little bit of a tan out there on the raquetball court. It would be fantabulous.
Tuesday I slept till noon, lounged around the house with the cat, went out for a walk, and spent the evening with my parents. Yesterday I got up and started some work on my final project, my feature about nature and hurricanes for my magazine writing class with Doug. I had a dentist appointment in the afternoon, and that took way longer than I expected, so I had to rush to finish my feature. It got sent it at deadline, but I'm not happy with it. I don't think it's nearly as good as it could be.
Which is disturbing. I thought I wanted to be a science magazine writer, but I have zero aptitude for magazine writing. Doug talks about the differences between a notion and an idea, and all my story pitches fell flat, except the last one, and this is the topic I least wanted to write about. But what can you do? At least I still largely whupped everyone else's ass in the newswriting class.
I like the XM radio commercial where Snoop's bling gets ripped by David Bowie.
I also like being here with my parents, but Florida is not home. I love my parents so, so much, and I'm so grateful to them for everything they give me, but my life is not here anymore. My life is in Boston, with Megan and school and my schoolmates, and my life is in Fort Worth, with my sister and friends and school and Topper and Dan. With my teeth pretty feeling again and my mouth all fresh and all of me feeling showered and unstressed and relaxed and cute again, I'm so ready to kiss him and have him around all the time again.
Don't get me wrong, I liked kissing Miss Erin Steen last New Year's, but now that she's engaged in Wisconsin, I dunno if I could arrange that again. I think Dan will make a good substitute, though. =c)
Saturday, December 10, 2005
The Worst Story Ender Ever
So you know that whole cliche of "Only time will tell"? That's what I've been thinking of for the past few weeks because I wasn't sure how I'd be doing by the time stuff ended at school for the semester. But my video group got our documentary on bacteria that breathe uranium done (funky-fresh) and today I got most of my radio documentary on Dumpster diving situated, ready to be finalized and polished Monday. Tonight (or maybe tomorrow, I'm feeling sort of lazy) I'll do my last news article, and then Wednesday I'll finish my feature article about hurricanes and their effects on nature.
Tuesday night I left at 8:30 p.m. and returned Wednesday morning at 4:30 a.m. for my Dumpster diving stuff. It was fucking freezing outside, and I ran out of batteries and tape, but I still had a rocking good time (I think this is the story to define this semester for me). Just ask me about it and how cool it was.
I was dead tired for my 9:30 class on Wednesday, needless to say, after 3 hours of sleep, and after class we had to tidy our film documentary and then head out to Gino's. Since he's an actual big-time producer, he had a nice place outside the city with a gorgeous little studio. I want a writing-slash-art studio like that some day. But our film got a pretty good reception, and afterward we got to see a bit of the major documentary Gino's been working on. It'll be pretty nifty when it comes out.
Thursday morning our radio professor showed up, bitched us out for not having our stuff done (she's KNOWN this for weeks, that our stuff would be late) and then cancelled class. I figured I'd take a nap on the department couch and then get to work on other stuff, but I fell asleep for three hours. I gave up and went home and got some work done there and had pizza with Chelsea and then did internship applications.
On Friday I did more internship stuff and stuff for my news article. And then today, Saturday, I was supposed to work from 8 to 3, and I ended up calling and telling them I couldn't go in. I had found out that they were shutting down the school at 4, and I needed to do my radio stuff. It was also supposed to be my last day of work, and I could tell from the phone that I majorly pissed off the manager. Does it make me a horrible person to call out on my last day of work? I suck at being a normal employee.
So my Saturday was spent at school. I'm in this time warp; it's hard to believe it's the weekend because it doesn't seem like it. But most of my radio stuff is sort of okay. If I get out of class early Monday and have a few hours between that and when our class got rescheduled to meet, I'll be fine.
Right now I should be doing laundry, but I'm not. I should be cleaning, but I'm not. Maybe I should be packing, or writing my news article, but I'm not. I'm in bed with my computer on my lap and thinking about going to sleep at 10 on a Saturday night. Rock on, baby, rock on, rock on.
Only time will tell . . . but now I think I can survive this pretty well.
Tuesday night I left at 8:30 p.m. and returned Wednesday morning at 4:30 a.m. for my Dumpster diving stuff. It was fucking freezing outside, and I ran out of batteries and tape, but I still had a rocking good time (I think this is the story to define this semester for me). Just ask me about it and how cool it was.
I was dead tired for my 9:30 class on Wednesday, needless to say, after 3 hours of sleep, and after class we had to tidy our film documentary and then head out to Gino's. Since he's an actual big-time producer, he had a nice place outside the city with a gorgeous little studio. I want a writing-slash-art studio like that some day. But our film got a pretty good reception, and afterward we got to see a bit of the major documentary Gino's been working on. It'll be pretty nifty when it comes out.
Thursday morning our radio professor showed up, bitched us out for not having our stuff done (she's KNOWN this for weeks, that our stuff would be late) and then cancelled class. I figured I'd take a nap on the department couch and then get to work on other stuff, but I fell asleep for three hours. I gave up and went home and got some work done there and had pizza with Chelsea and then did internship applications.
On Friday I did more internship stuff and stuff for my news article. And then today, Saturday, I was supposed to work from 8 to 3, and I ended up calling and telling them I couldn't go in. I had found out that they were shutting down the school at 4, and I needed to do my radio stuff. It was also supposed to be my last day of work, and I could tell from the phone that I majorly pissed off the manager. Does it make me a horrible person to call out on my last day of work? I suck at being a normal employee.
So my Saturday was spent at school. I'm in this time warp; it's hard to believe it's the weekend because it doesn't seem like it. But most of my radio stuff is sort of okay. If I get out of class early Monday and have a few hours between that and when our class got rescheduled to meet, I'll be fine.
Right now I should be doing laundry, but I'm not. I should be cleaning, but I'm not. Maybe I should be packing, or writing my news article, but I'm not. I'm in bed with my computer on my lap and thinking about going to sleep at 10 on a Saturday night. Rock on, baby, rock on, rock on.
Only time will tell . . . but now I think I can survive this pretty well.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Cowboy Boots And Wool Coats (And Dumpsters)
It's been about forever since I updated this thing. Sorry to anyone who had a spare 10 minutes on their hands and was desperate enough to wonder, geez, if Liz's thing were up, I could procrastinate a little bit more . . . But let me just say that right now, I feel good. My throat is sore and I'm all stuffy, but really, I'm feeling okay. Things (as of today) are coming together with school for the last push, and I'm SO ready for a good month-long vacation. I'm giddy at the thought of all the fun it's going to be, and I'm so excited to be getting on to spending all my time with my favorite people.
A quick update on why I didn't update. Okay, I lied, this isn't going to be short at all. But I haven't updated in a while, right? And it's the end of the year and you guys need to waste as much time as possible because there's so much to do.
I was going back and forth from Texas and then doing four reporting classes and working on Saturdays at the cafe . . . I spent Thanksgiving with Dan's family. It was a good time; they all feel completely like family, and how can I NOT have fun if I'm with Dan, but coming back I got a cold. Now, a week after I came back and got really sick, I'm still feeling a bit off and with school and work, I doubt I'll get better before I go to Tampa.
(For the record, this is the second time I've come back from Texas sick.)
But anyway, I got back and had this near panic attack because of all the work that has to be done. I have news articles, a big-ass feature article, and two documentaries, one of which is a group project. To make things better, it's a group project with Pat, a guy who drives me nuts, and Jon, a guy who actually dropped out of the program. So, that's awkward. Yesterday there was a fiasco when Pat and I agreed about a type of script that adhered to what the professor said and Jon wanted something completely different and would not compromise. At all. Merely yelled at us, instead.
The whole thing is bizarre. But my other documentary, my radio one, is slowly coming together. It's about Dumpster diving. It will hopefully rock like a mo'fo, and I'm trying to get out to go wade around in Dumpsters. I'm excited, I have to admit. There's a huge culture out there. It started with Loren sending me an article about freegans (free+vegan), vegans who get all their veggie-happy food out of Dumpsters. They get a lot of other things out of the trash, too. Now, I'm a huge fan of Goodwill, and half the stuff in there should in the trash, but actually swimming through trashbags and other, real, genuinely gross stuff? Stay tuned. Hopefully I'll have some awesome stories to share over drinks when I hit Cowtown again.
Also on the topic of radio, the professor offered me a TA position next semester. I'd get $1000 for about five hours of work a week, as opposed to the about $700 I've made this semester working eight hours a week at the cafe. This is happy because now I get to quit. I've never quit a job before, really quit. I'm excited. I want out of there fast. I don't hate it, but I really don't like it. Any not having to deal with difficult customers? Golden.
My articles are slow going, but they'll get done. Like I said, I had a near panic attack this week. I just felt like there was so much, and then there was a final exam thrown into everything, and it was a pain. Plus, sick and not enough sleep. But! There is good news. For example, Betty Crocker now makes little cakes you just pop in the microwave. And they're good, too.
It's Friday night. Next Friday night, I will be finished with everything but my feature article. Then a few days after that, on Monday, I'll be on my way to Tampa for Christmas (and to finish my feature article). Back to Fort Worth on the night of the 26th to join in the debauchery of Dan's 21st. The adventure of that may beat even Dumpster diving.
If I can survive the next week, I'll be set. It's turning cold again. I've been told it's been a really, really mild fall, and I guess I believe it. Today I broke out my wool coat. I love it. I feel important in it, and it was supposed to snow late this afternoon so I wore my boots. (Not my snow boots. I still haven't come to peace with those.) Cross fingers it doesn't snow before I go home. I don't want to deal with walking on ice in addition to everything else. I'm busting my ass as is without needing to fall on it, too.
A quick update on why I didn't update. Okay, I lied, this isn't going to be short at all. But I haven't updated in a while, right? And it's the end of the year and you guys need to waste as much time as possible because there's so much to do.
I was going back and forth from Texas and then doing four reporting classes and working on Saturdays at the cafe . . . I spent Thanksgiving with Dan's family. It was a good time; they all feel completely like family, and how can I NOT have fun if I'm with Dan, but coming back I got a cold. Now, a week after I came back and got really sick, I'm still feeling a bit off and with school and work, I doubt I'll get better before I go to Tampa.
(For the record, this is the second time I've come back from Texas sick.)
But anyway, I got back and had this near panic attack because of all the work that has to be done. I have news articles, a big-ass feature article, and two documentaries, one of which is a group project. To make things better, it's a group project with Pat, a guy who drives me nuts, and Jon, a guy who actually dropped out of the program. So, that's awkward. Yesterday there was a fiasco when Pat and I agreed about a type of script that adhered to what the professor said and Jon wanted something completely different and would not compromise. At all. Merely yelled at us, instead.
The whole thing is bizarre. But my other documentary, my radio one, is slowly coming together. It's about Dumpster diving. It will hopefully rock like a mo'fo, and I'm trying to get out to go wade around in Dumpsters. I'm excited, I have to admit. There's a huge culture out there. It started with Loren sending me an article about freegans (free+vegan), vegans who get all their veggie-happy food out of Dumpsters. They get a lot of other things out of the trash, too. Now, I'm a huge fan of Goodwill, and half the stuff in there should in the trash, but actually swimming through trashbags and other, real, genuinely gross stuff? Stay tuned. Hopefully I'll have some awesome stories to share over drinks when I hit Cowtown again.
Also on the topic of radio, the professor offered me a TA position next semester. I'd get $1000 for about five hours of work a week, as opposed to the about $700 I've made this semester working eight hours a week at the cafe. This is happy because now I get to quit. I've never quit a job before, really quit. I'm excited. I want out of there fast. I don't hate it, but I really don't like it. Any not having to deal with difficult customers? Golden.
My articles are slow going, but they'll get done. Like I said, I had a near panic attack this week. I just felt like there was so much, and then there was a final exam thrown into everything, and it was a pain. Plus, sick and not enough sleep. But! There is good news. For example, Betty Crocker now makes little cakes you just pop in the microwave. And they're good, too.
It's Friday night. Next Friday night, I will be finished with everything but my feature article. Then a few days after that, on Monday, I'll be on my way to Tampa for Christmas (and to finish my feature article). Back to Fort Worth on the night of the 26th to join in the debauchery of Dan's 21st. The adventure of that may beat even Dumpster diving.
If I can survive the next week, I'll be set. It's turning cold again. I've been told it's been a really, really mild fall, and I guess I believe it. Today I broke out my wool coat. I love it. I feel important in it, and it was supposed to snow late this afternoon so I wore my boots. (Not my snow boots. I still haven't come to peace with those.) Cross fingers it doesn't snow before I go home. I don't want to deal with walking on ice in addition to everything else. I'm busting my ass as is without needing to fall on it, too.
Friday, October 28, 2005
The Smell Of Tofu
So going home was great, as I'd expected, and coming back was a shock because of classes (ew) and then I got sick. Bad sick, throat sick again; I think I caught Stephen's cancer. I ended up going to Mass General Hospital because a doctor couldn't see me, and then I spent Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday in bed.
But now I think I'm recovered, just in time to deal with internship applications for the fall. No one else in the program wants to work in a newsroom, so I'm the only one frantically gathering up clips and cover letters.
I should be working on stuff right now, but I ate Mike's Pizza for dinner and am feeling lazy. Plus, Megan just cooked tofu, and it's such a bizarre smell that I can't concentrate long enough to get anything done.
Trying to find airline tickets to go home for Thanksgiving is giving me a headache. Several headaches, actually. I don't want to stay here in Boston on my own. I would spend the whole weekend crying, I'm sure of it.
Oh my gosh, that tofu smell . . .
My dad and I had a conversation about squirrels the other day. What happens to squirrels in the winter here? Are they warm enough? What happens to the homeless? Am I the only person who worries?
But now I think I'm recovered, just in time to deal with internship applications for the fall. No one else in the program wants to work in a newsroom, so I'm the only one frantically gathering up clips and cover letters.
I should be working on stuff right now, but I ate Mike's Pizza for dinner and am feeling lazy. Plus, Megan just cooked tofu, and it's such a bizarre smell that I can't concentrate long enough to get anything done.
Trying to find airline tickets to go home for Thanksgiving is giving me a headache. Several headaches, actually. I don't want to stay here in Boston on my own. I would spend the whole weekend crying, I'm sure of it.
Oh my gosh, that tofu smell . . .
My dad and I had a conversation about squirrels the other day. What happens to squirrels in the winter here? Are they warm enough? What happens to the homeless? Am I the only person who worries?
Monday, October 10, 2005
Getting Reacquainted With Sleep
I'm going home for the second time Thursday, and I booked a direct flight because I'm determined never to go through Detroit again. This time I won't take a jar of pineapple in my backpack or check bags, either. Screw that.
I have tomorrow off, because it's Columbus Day. So I had class Thursay morning . . . and I don't have class again til Wednesday night, because my Monday class is cancelled and my Wednesday morning professor is in Australia. It's weird, I have this feeling like I've got all the time in the world to sleep. How great is that?
I just have to remember to wake up before my air mattress loses too much air and I wake up half on the floor.
Summer finally let go up here this weekend. It started raining Friday and didn't really stop until today, and it's still overcast and misty-drizzly. It's cold, too, and I'm beginning to believe I really need to redo my closet. If it weren't for Liz coming out to spend the evening shopping with me yesterday, I wouldn't have a coat for this weather. (I picked up a great one for the fall at Target; yay Target.)
Two hours with a good book and a coffee at Starbucks seemed like the best way to spend my Sunday evening, and after eating take-out Indian, I think I'm ready to layer on some nightclothes, find another blanket, and head to bed again.
Long weekends are good. Knowing I'm going home for next weekend makes it even better.
I have tomorrow off, because it's Columbus Day. So I had class Thursay morning . . . and I don't have class again til Wednesday night, because my Monday class is cancelled and my Wednesday morning professor is in Australia. It's weird, I have this feeling like I've got all the time in the world to sleep. How great is that?
I just have to remember to wake up before my air mattress loses too much air and I wake up half on the floor.
Summer finally let go up here this weekend. It started raining Friday and didn't really stop until today, and it's still overcast and misty-drizzly. It's cold, too, and I'm beginning to believe I really need to redo my closet. If it weren't for Liz coming out to spend the evening shopping with me yesterday, I wouldn't have a coat for this weather. (I picked up a great one for the fall at Target; yay Target.)
Two hours with a good book and a coffee at Starbucks seemed like the best way to spend my Sunday evening, and after eating take-out Indian, I think I'm ready to layer on some nightclothes, find another blanket, and head to bed again.
Long weekends are good. Knowing I'm going home for next weekend makes it even better.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
Enter October
So the whole song by Green Day, Wake Me Up When September Ends — good idea, I have to admit. It's been an exhausting month, and I admit to coming home last night and being in bed by 9:30 or so. It was pitiful. But so needed. I'm past the point of exhaustion, although I'm not quite sure why. I'm getting 7 hours a night, roundabout . . . but the exhaustion is akin to what I felt like this spring, when I'd almost rather sleep than do anything.
But when I'm awake and remember to keep calm (I'm on the verge of drowning in classwork), it's pretty nice. The weather today was crystal clear (good, because yesterday I got caught without a sweatshirt or umbrella in really cold, windy rain, for quite a walk) and crisp, around 55, perfect for being outside. It was really fall, and it made me happy. And tonight, when it was dark and cool and I was walking home off the subway, I could smell wood fires going inside the houses I passed. I love the smell of fall.
Fall is good before it gets too wintery. I'm worried. I may freeze to death. Third semesters were telling me about blizzards (blizzards!) and tunnels through the snow. Right now is perfect for football and stuff like that.
Oh, and the end of the baseball season, too. Sweet action. This whole Red Sox thing is deadly infectious. It's so intoxicating. Chalk me up to being brainwashed. And a huge plus is that I bought a Sox hat and I can wear it whenever my hair is sticking up everywhere and I'd rather sleep a few minutes than deal with it (Read: almost every day).
Only two more weeks until I'm home again. How did that happen? It'll be a homecoming.
But when I'm awake and remember to keep calm (I'm on the verge of drowning in classwork), it's pretty nice. The weather today was crystal clear (good, because yesterday I got caught without a sweatshirt or umbrella in really cold, windy rain, for quite a walk) and crisp, around 55, perfect for being outside. It was really fall, and it made me happy. And tonight, when it was dark and cool and I was walking home off the subway, I could smell wood fires going inside the houses I passed. I love the smell of fall.
Fall is good before it gets too wintery. I'm worried. I may freeze to death. Third semesters were telling me about blizzards (blizzards!) and tunnels through the snow. Right now is perfect for football and stuff like that.
Oh, and the end of the baseball season, too. Sweet action. This whole Red Sox thing is deadly infectious. It's so intoxicating. Chalk me up to being brainwashed. And a huge plus is that I bought a Sox hat and I can wear it whenever my hair is sticking up everywhere and I'd rather sleep a few minutes than deal with it (Read: almost every day).
Only two more weeks until I'm home again. How did that happen? It'll be a homecoming.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Big Old Jet Airliner
Four more nights until I'm home. Actually, if you count this the way I used to count my school week, it's only two nights. (Don't count today/tonight, because it's already happening, and don't count the one right before something happens, so Wednesday night won't count. That leaves just Monday and Tuesday nights.)
I'm excited. Tomorrow I'm going out shopping so I have stuff to take back. I love being able to come bearing gifts.
This week my writing assignments just involved bringing in story ideas, which is sort of weird. No writing to do? Just come up with three ideas for each of the two classes? Badass. I found some interesting stuff while sorting through the journals down in the periodicals room of the library. That's probably the room where I'll spend the most research time, and it's depressing as all get-out because it's in the basement, low ceilings, bad lighting, sort of dark and dull. It's like being in the dungeon. The perk is there are big couches down there, and people unabashedly nap there, sprawling out and sling an arm over their eyes and just conking out. I fell asleep on the couch in the department lounge earlier this week, and the library couches will keep the third semester guys from coming in and laughing at me when I'm all fuzzy, trying to wake up.
So I don't really have anything to say. I'm just excited. That's enough.
I'm excited. Tomorrow I'm going out shopping so I have stuff to take back. I love being able to come bearing gifts.
This week my writing assignments just involved bringing in story ideas, which is sort of weird. No writing to do? Just come up with three ideas for each of the two classes? Badass. I found some interesting stuff while sorting through the journals down in the periodicals room of the library. That's probably the room where I'll spend the most research time, and it's depressing as all get-out because it's in the basement, low ceilings, bad lighting, sort of dark and dull. It's like being in the dungeon. The perk is there are big couches down there, and people unabashedly nap there, sprawling out and sling an arm over their eyes and just conking out. I fell asleep on the couch in the department lounge earlier this week, and the library couches will keep the third semester guys from coming in and laughing at me when I'm all fuzzy, trying to wake up.
So I don't really have anything to say. I'm just excited. That's enough.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Please Get A Dress Code
I really shouldn't be doing this right now. It's 10:30 at night, I got home an hour ago from a day at school, and I really ought to be writing the two briefs due for class at 9. I've finished my interviews and I need to get cracking on the writing and whatnot, but I just can't work up the umph to get on it. School has definitely started again; can you tell?
Plus, I'm going home in a little more than a week and spend all my spare time imagining how great it will be. I'm excited at the prospect of not sleeping alone on a stupid air mattress for a few nights and seeing people that I don't have to explain everything too. That's the thing with new people: you have to explain EVERYTHING. It's tiring. At least at home I only have to explain the past six weeks or so.
My days are long because I spend them at school, in class and in the gym. Class is class--although I think my radio broadcast class will be tons of fun. I feel great, walking around with this equipment and listening to everything. It's nice to focus on sound instead of images.
The gym has a kick-ass rock wall, and I'm establishing myself there. But the rest of the gym gives me mixed feelings. I feel good because I'm like hey, I'm doing something good, yay me for working out . . . but then there's no dress code, so there's girls walking around in nonexistant shorts and bras and then I'm like, well, shit, no matter what I do here, it's not going to help. Plus, these girls are all really obnoxiously fake tanned, just like in Texas. It's just you can see more of it here, and it's depressing. The thing keeping me up is I have a way better upper body than them from the rock wall. So there. Keep your asses in your shorts, please.
I feel better about classes. I'm the baby. Three of the ten of us just graduated, but I didn't get a science degree (the other two did). The third semester guys like giving me a hard time because I'm a dork and talk a lot and am sort of clueless with a lot of science, like chemistry and physics and engineering and technology. (I know a lot more than they think I do. I like it when people underestimate me, though. Sets it up well for me to surprise them.)
I'm so tired. And I need a shower because I'm still covering in climbing chalk. And I still have two stories to do and a whole 14 hours to be at school tomorrow (class from 9:30-12:30, then class at 6pm . . . and seems stupid to spend two hours commuting back and forth so I can go home for the afternoon). And Seinfeld is on, so I'm going to procrastinate a bit that direction.
I can't wait to be watching TV and shooting the shit in Fort Worth.
Plus, I'm going home in a little more than a week and spend all my spare time imagining how great it will be. I'm excited at the prospect of not sleeping alone on a stupid air mattress for a few nights and seeing people that I don't have to explain everything too. That's the thing with new people: you have to explain EVERYTHING. It's tiring. At least at home I only have to explain the past six weeks or so.
My days are long because I spend them at school, in class and in the gym. Class is class--although I think my radio broadcast class will be tons of fun. I feel great, walking around with this equipment and listening to everything. It's nice to focus on sound instead of images.
The gym has a kick-ass rock wall, and I'm establishing myself there. But the rest of the gym gives me mixed feelings. I feel good because I'm like hey, I'm doing something good, yay me for working out . . . but then there's no dress code, so there's girls walking around in nonexistant shorts and bras and then I'm like, well, shit, no matter what I do here, it's not going to help. Plus, these girls are all really obnoxiously fake tanned, just like in Texas. It's just you can see more of it here, and it's depressing. The thing keeping me up is I have a way better upper body than them from the rock wall. So there. Keep your asses in your shorts, please.
I feel better about classes. I'm the baby. Three of the ten of us just graduated, but I didn't get a science degree (the other two did). The third semester guys like giving me a hard time because I'm a dork and talk a lot and am sort of clueless with a lot of science, like chemistry and physics and engineering and technology. (I know a lot more than they think I do. I like it when people underestimate me, though. Sets it up well for me to surprise them.)
I'm so tired. And I need a shower because I'm still covering in climbing chalk. And I still have two stories to do and a whole 14 hours to be at school tomorrow (class from 9:30-12:30, then class at 6pm . . . and seems stupid to spend two hours commuting back and forth so I can go home for the afternoon). And Seinfeld is on, so I'm going to procrastinate a bit that direction.
I can't wait to be watching TV and shooting the shit in Fort Worth.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Looking Outward
Tomorrow (today? I haven't been to bed yet) is orientation for school, even though it's Labor Day. Am I the only person who thinks it's weird? I don't have class on Tuesday, but then I'll have class on Wednesday and Thursday. I feel like I've been waiting forever for class to start . . . I know I've only been here about two and a half weeks, but it really does feel like forever ago that I got here. Without class, and without everyone up here, I felt like I had completely deserted myself up here somehow.
So I'm really glad class is starting.
Plus, I have something to work toward, now. I booked an airline ticket last night to go home in about two and a half weeks. I found a cheap one (no easy task since gas and oil have skyrocketed) and now I feel better about being here. I like having certain things to take for granted, because it gives me something to work hard for.
Speaking of something to work for . . . after a week of being cranky and difficult and mired in past offenses, I've decided to work harder at burying the hatchet with Dan. For the past six months we've had a really good relationship — and that's considerably longer than the two months of, well, not good stuff. A month ago I decided it was time to leave it be, but then some unexpected stuff came up. (I am continually amazed at how dense people can be.) I wasn't prepared for it. It was all the final stuff that I'd wanted taken care of months ago. It was all the last little nagging worries I'd had but just decided would never come to pass. But they did — and I don't think I reacted totally irrationally, but I'm tired of having to react at all. Maybe now things are tidied up, maybe now it won't be an issue anymore. I can certainly hope.
A friend warned me that because the beginning of our relationship really was founded on such rockiness, it's pretty stupid for either Dan or I to expect to totally forget what happened anytime soon.
But what's reassuring to me is that we had a lot of good stuff before all that. For months before we started dating, we became best friends. So we have months of great stuff, two months of shit, then six months of more good stuff . . . so while I've decided to not look at the past as much, perhaps I should remember our entire past, not just the uncomfortable parts.
And that gives me a lot more hope for the future. Because, as was said, "Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery. What a name, huh?
Things in general are looking a lot better, out there.
So I'm really glad class is starting.
Plus, I have something to work toward, now. I booked an airline ticket last night to go home in about two and a half weeks. I found a cheap one (no easy task since gas and oil have skyrocketed) and now I feel better about being here. I like having certain things to take for granted, because it gives me something to work hard for.
Speaking of something to work for . . . after a week of being cranky and difficult and mired in past offenses, I've decided to work harder at burying the hatchet with Dan. For the past six months we've had a really good relationship — and that's considerably longer than the two months of, well, not good stuff. A month ago I decided it was time to leave it be, but then some unexpected stuff came up. (I am continually amazed at how dense people can be.) I wasn't prepared for it. It was all the final stuff that I'd wanted taken care of months ago. It was all the last little nagging worries I'd had but just decided would never come to pass. But they did — and I don't think I reacted totally irrationally, but I'm tired of having to react at all. Maybe now things are tidied up, maybe now it won't be an issue anymore. I can certainly hope.
A friend warned me that because the beginning of our relationship really was founded on such rockiness, it's pretty stupid for either Dan or I to expect to totally forget what happened anytime soon.
But what's reassuring to me is that we had a lot of good stuff before all that. For months before we started dating, we became best friends. So we have months of great stuff, two months of shit, then six months of more good stuff . . . so while I've decided to not look at the past as much, perhaps I should remember our entire past, not just the uncomfortable parts.
And that gives me a lot more hope for the future. Because, as was said, "Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery. What a name, huh?
Things in general are looking a lot better, out there.
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Good Will
So Sunday I went out jogging, which turned into a 2 hour walk around Cambridge and everywhere here on the north side of the river. Yesterday I did another 2 hour walk, and came home and threw in some leg exercises too. Today I was going to go jogging and limit myself to an hour of being outside, plus some exercises at home, and give myself tomorrow off, but my legs are so sore I had a hard time getting off my air mattress this morning.
I decided after spending a school year in the newsroom and only getting to the gym sporadically, I should take the initiative to get back into a routine to keep myself from getting bored and depressed. And I've heard that BU just redid their gym, and it's awesome (although nothing's as cool as the Rickel), so that should help once it gets too damn cold to be outside.
It's the first day of classes at TCU today, I still have two more weeks of waiting, and I'm feeling a bit disconnected, like I don't have anything to do. (But wait for the UPS guy, who left a note saying he'd try again between 10:30 and 5. Bastard.)
And I've been working, of course, to save up money to fly back to Fort Worth asap. Along this line, the other day someone offered to help me out in buying tickets and whatnot. I don't quite remember when I'd been as flattered and complimented. When someone offers to do something for you because they WANT to, not because they somehow feel they HAVE to, it's remarkable. It made me feel like I should be more humble, for someone to give me something like that.
Isn't it funny how it takes people being nice to us to knock us down a peg and make us watch ourselves more closely? Someone being mean or cruel never does it as well, and always makes you spiteful, too. But when someone's nice . . . well, hell. Nice people rock.
And I think fruit baskets are one of the best inventions ever, so everybody should look at ediblearrangements.com. Mmm. Beautiful.
I decided after spending a school year in the newsroom and only getting to the gym sporadically, I should take the initiative to get back into a routine to keep myself from getting bored and depressed. And I've heard that BU just redid their gym, and it's awesome (although nothing's as cool as the Rickel), so that should help once it gets too damn cold to be outside.
It's the first day of classes at TCU today, I still have two more weeks of waiting, and I'm feeling a bit disconnected, like I don't have anything to do. (But wait for the UPS guy, who left a note saying he'd try again between 10:30 and 5. Bastard.)
And I've been working, of course, to save up money to fly back to Fort Worth asap. Along this line, the other day someone offered to help me out in buying tickets and whatnot. I don't quite remember when I'd been as flattered and complimented. When someone offers to do something for you because they WANT to, not because they somehow feel they HAVE to, it's remarkable. It made me feel like I should be more humble, for someone to give me something like that.
Isn't it funny how it takes people being nice to us to knock us down a peg and make us watch ourselves more closely? Someone being mean or cruel never does it as well, and always makes you spiteful, too. But when someone's nice . . . well, hell. Nice people rock.
And I think fruit baskets are one of the best inventions ever, so everybody should look at ediblearrangements.com. Mmm. Beautiful.
Monday, August 22, 2005
"Fly" In 20-Point Times New Roman
So for a while now I've wanted a tattoo that said "fly" on my ribcage right under my heart (no, not on my boob, right below it, you dorks). It's to remind myself I can always try and I can always be better . . . flying is astounding, and I can be astounding, but it requires work. (That's why I decided against the word "soar," even though I'm afraid people will see "fly" and think of supa-fly or something. Soaring doesn't require any work . . . but anyhow. Tangent.)
And so Dan and I got to Boston Tuesday afternoon and I've been sort of wondering if I should get that tattoo now that I'm here. To remind myself to work hard at the two most important things to me right now: school, to really give my all to the program I'm been waiting for years to get to; and my relationships with other people, to really hold on to the people I love and adore and to ensure they want to hold on to me too. If you can't imagine your life without someone . . . then you probably just shouldn't live without them. Seems simple enough.
Right now I only get the Internet on the balconey of our second-floor flat or at the kitchen window. I've got wireless and I'm skimming it off someone nearby (thank you, Apple Network ea3e2b) but it's still sketchy. But remarkably, I found a way to give in and join the facebook in the online time I have. And I found time to update this. Go me.
I don't have a lot else to do. I started work today at an all-natural/organic restaurant across the street, and at least it pays pretty well. But school doesn't start for another two weeks or so and Dan is gone. (Insert a little picture of me sad and bored right here.)
The highlight to life on this street is the late-night Cambridge cycling cult. Ask me about them sometime. It's entertaining. I think they're harmless.
And let's not forget Goodwill, which is so amusing it's hard to get in words.
So I'm ok for right now . . . I try not to think too much about how far away everybody I love is. If I do, it starts hurting. Once school gets started and once I earn a paycheck or two and can fly home, things will be better, I'm sure of it. Remember I said I'd be counting down the days until I could fly back to Texas? It's true.
Send me encouragement if you want, and more importantly, be sure to make fun of me on the facebook because I broke down and joined.
(PS: Let's just damn it all and get two kittens at once. Who could choose between Cavanaugh and Poughkeepsie?)
And so Dan and I got to Boston Tuesday afternoon and I've been sort of wondering if I should get that tattoo now that I'm here. To remind myself to work hard at the two most important things to me right now: school, to really give my all to the program I'm been waiting for years to get to; and my relationships with other people, to really hold on to the people I love and adore and to ensure they want to hold on to me too. If you can't imagine your life without someone . . . then you probably just shouldn't live without them. Seems simple enough.
Right now I only get the Internet on the balconey of our second-floor flat or at the kitchen window. I've got wireless and I'm skimming it off someone nearby (thank you, Apple Network ea3e2b) but it's still sketchy. But remarkably, I found a way to give in and join the facebook in the online time I have. And I found time to update this. Go me.
I don't have a lot else to do. I started work today at an all-natural/organic restaurant across the street, and at least it pays pretty well. But school doesn't start for another two weeks or so and Dan is gone. (Insert a little picture of me sad and bored right here.)
The highlight to life on this street is the late-night Cambridge cycling cult. Ask me about them sometime. It's entertaining. I think they're harmless.
And let's not forget Goodwill, which is so amusing it's hard to get in words.
So I'm ok for right now . . . I try not to think too much about how far away everybody I love is. If I do, it starts hurting. Once school gets started and once I earn a paycheck or two and can fly home, things will be better, I'm sure of it. Remember I said I'd be counting down the days until I could fly back to Texas? It's true.
Send me encouragement if you want, and more importantly, be sure to make fun of me on the facebook because I broke down and joined.
(PS: Let's just damn it all and get two kittens at once. Who could choose between Cavanaugh and Poughkeepsie?)
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
What To Do With Noel
I'm down to a little less than two more weeks of mostly-permanent residence in Texas, and this weekend I read a "thank you for everything" e-mail sent by a guy who was thanking everyone he'd ever met for being in his life as he left his internship. He started off the e-mail with two verses of that song about leaving on a jet plane (I think that was the song, anyhow), and it sort of made me relieved because his favorite music is from musicals (yeah, like Oklahoma! and Phantom of the Opera) and at least he didn't quote any of that nonsense. It would have been too much.
And then I got to thinking, well, hell, I'll be saying good-bye to people soon myself.
But then I realized it would all be bullshit.
Because Fort Worth is home now and Boston will just be a place I'm doing my schoolwork so I can come home to Texas and play. I'll say bye to people, sure, but it will mean "see you later" rather than "I'll never see you again." As soon as I get up there I'll be counting the days until I can come home to everyone. And I'm going to try my damn best to land an internship here next summer.
There's only one problem: I can't take Noel with me to Boston. I drove him cross country once and he suffered what I am pretty sure was a stroke. One side of his body was all limp and he swum in little lopsided circles for about three weeks. And he didn't eat for two. So if anyone would like to fish-sit for me while I'm away, let me know. I like to think he'd be as happy to have me come home as my sister and all my friends and Topper, but I doubt he'd notice one way or another. And I'm cool with that.
And then I got to thinking, well, hell, I'll be saying good-bye to people soon myself.
But then I realized it would all be bullshit.
Because Fort Worth is home now and Boston will just be a place I'm doing my schoolwork so I can come home to Texas and play. I'll say bye to people, sure, but it will mean "see you later" rather than "I'll never see you again." As soon as I get up there I'll be counting the days until I can come home to everyone. And I'm going to try my damn best to land an internship here next summer.
There's only one problem: I can't take Noel with me to Boston. I drove him cross country once and he suffered what I am pretty sure was a stroke. One side of his body was all limp and he swum in little lopsided circles for about three weeks. And he didn't eat for two. So if anyone would like to fish-sit for me while I'm away, let me know. I like to think he'd be as happy to have me come home as my sister and all my friends and Topper, but I doubt he'd notice one way or another. And I'm cool with that.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Here and There
It's fricking hot in Texas during the summer. That's what I've learned so far, staying here in Fort Worth. I spend my days inside hiding in the air conditioning and the evenings out at the barn riding until both Topper and I are grimy with sweat (it doesn't take long). It's kinda gross, and getting into my car is like climbing into an oven if it's been sitting in the sun. It's worth it, though: my car takes me to work, takes me to the barn, takes me to Austin for weekends with Dan.
It's hot and it's boring. I go down to Austin as frequently as possible because even if I don't do anything, at least I'm doing nothing with someone, and there's a lot to be said for having someone around all the time. I never feel better than when I know I have someone to do things with and to do things for. My sister is still here, but she's got a hectic work and social life, and my friends are equally busy, so if I'm in Fort Worth I'm generally bored in that air conditioning, hiding from the humidity and sun.
I think Noel misses being in the newsroom. I know I do. Even though I spent most of the semester stressed and sick, I miss it because it was fun. Speaking of sick, I think I finally got all the mono side effects kicked, thanks to a specialist and a heavy-duty regimen of drugs. I'm going into my third week of being not on drugs and still no sore throat again — woohoo!
On the other hand, I'm suspicious that something else is going on and the radiologist today didn't take me seriously. I found a mysterious lump the day after the Fourth, when I was down in Austin, and it's bruised and sore, and I went to my doctor last week and she set me up for an ultrasound because she didn't know what it was. After spending all weekend worrying and working myself into a near anxiety attack about what it could be, the radiologist today told me he didn't know what it was either but I should just tell my doctor if it changes. So he was useless. But the aching is worse and spreading rapidly, so I guess I'll call Dr. Inman again tomorrow. At least she takes me seriously.
I downloaded the song "Coke" by Flickerstick from Loren last night. That song is my fav by them, and rocks my face off so many ways. It's great. Being able to download songs from him is like being able to sit in a music store and pick and choose . . . it's great. He's got an outstanding collection. Kudos to people with good music taste.
Instead of spending money buying new books this summer (when I could be spending that money on Mexican food down in Austin, yum), I've been reading all the books my sister has. She has an eclectic little collection going there. Lots of Chuck Palahniuk, or however you spell it, and slightly twisted novels. Right now I'm reading Violin by Anne Rice, and I'd forgotten how damn dense her prose is. Good grief. Newspaper work has left me with no patience for her heavy words that could be cut down neatly with a good red pen.
I just realized that me complaining about someone being too wordy must be awfully hypocritical. My apologies. I know I'm long-winded myself.
But at least I don't use exclamation points everywhere like she does. So there.
I'm still getting my editing kicks for the summer by reading daily articles about the Tour de France. Lance is SO hot. It's amazing. How badass would it be if he did run for Texas governor someday?
I'd vote for that in a heartbeat.
It's hot and it's boring. I go down to Austin as frequently as possible because even if I don't do anything, at least I'm doing nothing with someone, and there's a lot to be said for having someone around all the time. I never feel better than when I know I have someone to do things with and to do things for. My sister is still here, but she's got a hectic work and social life, and my friends are equally busy, so if I'm in Fort Worth I'm generally bored in that air conditioning, hiding from the humidity and sun.
I think Noel misses being in the newsroom. I know I do. Even though I spent most of the semester stressed and sick, I miss it because it was fun. Speaking of sick, I think I finally got all the mono side effects kicked, thanks to a specialist and a heavy-duty regimen of drugs. I'm going into my third week of being not on drugs and still no sore throat again — woohoo!
On the other hand, I'm suspicious that something else is going on and the radiologist today didn't take me seriously. I found a mysterious lump the day after the Fourth, when I was down in Austin, and it's bruised and sore, and I went to my doctor last week and she set me up for an ultrasound because she didn't know what it was. After spending all weekend worrying and working myself into a near anxiety attack about what it could be, the radiologist today told me he didn't know what it was either but I should just tell my doctor if it changes. So he was useless. But the aching is worse and spreading rapidly, so I guess I'll call Dr. Inman again tomorrow. At least she takes me seriously.
I downloaded the song "Coke" by Flickerstick from Loren last night. That song is my fav by them, and rocks my face off so many ways. It's great. Being able to download songs from him is like being able to sit in a music store and pick and choose . . . it's great. He's got an outstanding collection. Kudos to people with good music taste.
Instead of spending money buying new books this summer (when I could be spending that money on Mexican food down in Austin, yum), I've been reading all the books my sister has. She has an eclectic little collection going there. Lots of Chuck Palahniuk, or however you spell it, and slightly twisted novels. Right now I'm reading Violin by Anne Rice, and I'd forgotten how damn dense her prose is. Good grief. Newspaper work has left me with no patience for her heavy words that could be cut down neatly with a good red pen.
I just realized that me complaining about someone being too wordy must be awfully hypocritical. My apologies. I know I'm long-winded myself.
But at least I don't use exclamation points everywhere like she does. So there.
I'm still getting my editing kicks for the summer by reading daily articles about the Tour de France. Lance is SO hot. It's amazing. How badass would it be if he did run for Texas governor someday?
I'd vote for that in a heartbeat.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Summer Sliding In
It's been two months since I posted, I realized the other day, but I have a good excuse for missing each month. First, the bridging of April and May . . . final weeks at the paper, last days of classes, exams, and fighting a bad case of not-caring, when all I wanted to do was rent movies, drink Slurpees, go riding, forget the fact that things would be changing.
And then May into June . . . I had no real Internet service. Or, at least, I was intruding on someone else's life and apartment (even more than usual) for three weeks and just couldn't bring myself to check e-mails or anything else. My new job, nannying for the "heathen child" Corban, occupied my time, along with trying to keep up with life. I graduated from Texas Christian University. I'll be going to Boston in the fall. It's too hot to ride Topper with any degree of comfort unless it's ass-early or hella-late. There were parties to be had, drunken proclamations to hear, and relaxing to do after the semester.
So now I'm in mid-June and in a house near TCU, living with my sister and two others until the end of the summer. I'm still nannying Corban, riding Topper, and missing the newsroom. My evenings are long and boring. Phone calls are about the only exciting thing right now, barring the sometimes-scary drive to and from Austin every few weeks.
I will have a four month summer, from class end to class start, and already a month of it is gone. What did I do? The funny thing is, I basically did nothing, but at the same time, I could freeze it and replay it because it was just-right.
I've never been in Fort Worth/Dallas over the summer. I think I'm going to melt. Already I'm wimping out from the heat.
Keep me cool. Keep me calm. Keep that frozen time and this freezing period of just-right forever, no matter how strong the heat gets.
And then May into June . . . I had no real Internet service. Or, at least, I was intruding on someone else's life and apartment (even more than usual) for three weeks and just couldn't bring myself to check e-mails or anything else. My new job, nannying for the "heathen child" Corban, occupied my time, along with trying to keep up with life. I graduated from Texas Christian University. I'll be going to Boston in the fall. It's too hot to ride Topper with any degree of comfort unless it's ass-early or hella-late. There were parties to be had, drunken proclamations to hear, and relaxing to do after the semester.
So now I'm in mid-June and in a house near TCU, living with my sister and two others until the end of the summer. I'm still nannying Corban, riding Topper, and missing the newsroom. My evenings are long and boring. Phone calls are about the only exciting thing right now, barring the sometimes-scary drive to and from Austin every few weeks.
I will have a four month summer, from class end to class start, and already a month of it is gone. What did I do? The funny thing is, I basically did nothing, but at the same time, I could freeze it and replay it because it was just-right.
I've never been in Fort Worth/Dallas over the summer. I think I'm going to melt. Already I'm wimping out from the heat.
Keep me cool. Keep me calm. Keep that frozen time and this freezing period of just-right forever, no matter how strong the heat gets.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Tears Me Inside Out
"There's something about you
Tears me inside out whenever you're around
There's something about you
Speeding through my veins until we hit the ground
And there's something about this rush
Take it away
It made me feel so good . . . "
(New Radicals)
I know this is at least the second time I've quoted this song in here. It's great. It's called "Mother we just can't get enough" and every time I hear it I get this whooshing feeling in my chest. It's awesome.
Spring is about good music. Actually, scratch that . . . all year should be about good music. Speaking of good music, Adam alerted me that new Oasis is out there. Thank goodness someone is more dedicated at keeping up with the band. I'm a horrible fan. Just in general, I suck at memorizing facts and remembering things and knowing the news.
The clock finally clicked the end of perhaps one of the longest weeks ever. I don't know how else to put it. I have a long and bitter anthem for everyone to hear about. But there were some really really good parts, like seeing people do even better than you expect them to, winning at poker, finding breakfast in downtown Dallas at 2 a.m. even though things are worrisome, getting really dressed up and then buying more gym shorts.
When I was packing to go to TIPA I found two spanking-new pens in my backpack. They're so pretty black and smooth. I really do have an addiction to office supplies, but it's not a problem. Counselors are for wimps.
I just almost bought a Polaroid camera online. I told Dan about my plans a few weeks ago. I'd like to have one, take random pictures of people when they're not looking and then walk over and hand the picture to them. I don't think most people realize how perfect they are most of the time. I'd like to write something on the back, but I don't know what.
Just spend a second or two looking at someone who's not looking at you. How perfect.
"And there's something about you
That makes me fly
You're a heart attack
Just the kind I like"
Tears me inside out whenever you're around
There's something about you
Speeding through my veins until we hit the ground
And there's something about this rush
Take it away
It made me feel so good . . . "
(New Radicals)
I know this is at least the second time I've quoted this song in here. It's great. It's called "Mother we just can't get enough" and every time I hear it I get this whooshing feeling in my chest. It's awesome.
Spring is about good music. Actually, scratch that . . . all year should be about good music. Speaking of good music, Adam alerted me that new Oasis is out there. Thank goodness someone is more dedicated at keeping up with the band. I'm a horrible fan. Just in general, I suck at memorizing facts and remembering things and knowing the news.
The clock finally clicked the end of perhaps one of the longest weeks ever. I don't know how else to put it. I have a long and bitter anthem for everyone to hear about. But there were some really really good parts, like seeing people do even better than you expect them to, winning at poker, finding breakfast in downtown Dallas at 2 a.m. even though things are worrisome, getting really dressed up and then buying more gym shorts.
When I was packing to go to TIPA I found two spanking-new pens in my backpack. They're so pretty black and smooth. I really do have an addiction to office supplies, but it's not a problem. Counselors are for wimps.
I just almost bought a Polaroid camera online. I told Dan about my plans a few weeks ago. I'd like to have one, take random pictures of people when they're not looking and then walk over and hand the picture to them. I don't think most people realize how perfect they are most of the time. I'd like to write something on the back, but I don't know what.
Just spend a second or two looking at someone who's not looking at you. How perfect.
"And there's something about you
That makes me fly
You're a heart attack
Just the kind I like"
Friday, April 01, 2005
Won't Get Fooled Again
It's disconcerting that I was thinking of Mitch Hedberg with my last post and today found out he's (allegedly) dead of a heart attack. I'm afraid to wonder about other comedians now, because what if they keel over as well? Last thing I want is for the Executive Transvestite bunch to lose their leading member as Eddie Izzard gets beaten by the Queen with a brick in her handbag. If this is a ruse, I'm gonna be mad. But happy. For now I'll be mad and sad.
Speaking of sad . . . it's sad that this whole Terry Schiavo thing is going on. The entire situation is just revolting. I was flipping through channels and it's on the news, on documentaries already, whatever. But if I'm ever stuck in a bed and can't talk to people and can't read and can't get outside and can't see the wonders of my world and can't do things to make people happy and can't be productive . . . don't just remove the feeding tube, and I don't care what the neurological exams show, just give me a lethal amount of morphine and let me float away, tripped out of my mind.
What a way to go. It will make up for all the times I said no to drugs.
I feel like I'm on a drug trip sometimes, still . . . I got the weirdest feeling of deja vu this week when I was in the newsroom until I realized duh, I have been here before, I have done this before, this is stupid. Isn't that absurd that the brain would let you experience deja vu about something you do all the time?
This show about Schiavo is showing a preacher with a megaphone talking to a crowd of picketers. (I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it.) I would love to get a megaphone and sit somewhere and just start rambling. Sometimes it takes a while to get me to talk. Sometimes I just ramble and can't help it. But I would sit with my megaphone and spew the most original sentences I can think of, that's all. It would probably be nonsense. But it could be beautiful (or damn ugly). If somebody were to ask me to just talk in original sentences, I would. I would give them all the words they ever wanted. (And afterward, would they want to talk to me ever again?)
I would like someone to read the lyrics from Blue Eyes by the Cary Brothers from the Garden State Soundtrack and think of me. Wouldn't that be nice? But only the good lyrics, not the lines I don't like. If someone did that, paid attention to only the good lyrics, that wouldn't be nice . . . that would be badass. Because it even mentions me rambling with my megaphone all those sentences pent up somewhere.
. . . I just wanna sing a song with you
I just want to take it off of you
Cause Blue Eyes
You are all that I need
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the sweet to my mean
Fess it up, dot on the palm of your hand
I can help you to stand
Saved it up for this dance
Tell me all the things you can . . .
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes
All the lights on and you are alive
But you can't point the way to your heart
So sublime, when the stars are aligned
But you don't know
You don't know the greatness you are . . .
I just wanna sing a song with you
I just wanna get it on with you
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes
I just wanna sing a song with you…
Speaking of sad . . . it's sad that this whole Terry Schiavo thing is going on. The entire situation is just revolting. I was flipping through channels and it's on the news, on documentaries already, whatever. But if I'm ever stuck in a bed and can't talk to people and can't read and can't get outside and can't see the wonders of my world and can't do things to make people happy and can't be productive . . . don't just remove the feeding tube, and I don't care what the neurological exams show, just give me a lethal amount of morphine and let me float away, tripped out of my mind.
What a way to go. It will make up for all the times I said no to drugs.
I feel like I'm on a drug trip sometimes, still . . . I got the weirdest feeling of deja vu this week when I was in the newsroom until I realized duh, I have been here before, I have done this before, this is stupid. Isn't that absurd that the brain would let you experience deja vu about something you do all the time?
This show about Schiavo is showing a preacher with a megaphone talking to a crowd of picketers. (I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it.) I would love to get a megaphone and sit somewhere and just start rambling. Sometimes it takes a while to get me to talk. Sometimes I just ramble and can't help it. But I would sit with my megaphone and spew the most original sentences I can think of, that's all. It would probably be nonsense. But it could be beautiful (or damn ugly). If somebody were to ask me to just talk in original sentences, I would. I would give them all the words they ever wanted. (And afterward, would they want to talk to me ever again?)
I would like someone to read the lyrics from Blue Eyes by the Cary Brothers from the Garden State Soundtrack and think of me. Wouldn't that be nice? But only the good lyrics, not the lines I don't like. If someone did that, paid attention to only the good lyrics, that wouldn't be nice . . . that would be badass. Because it even mentions me rambling with my megaphone all those sentences pent up somewhere.
. . . I just wanna sing a song with you
I just want to take it off of you
Cause Blue Eyes
You are all that I need
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the sweet to my mean
Fess it up, dot on the palm of your hand
I can help you to stand
Saved it up for this dance
Tell me all the things you can . . .
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes
All the lights on and you are alive
But you can't point the way to your heart
So sublime, when the stars are aligned
But you don't know
You don't know the greatness you are . . .
I just wanna sing a song with you
I just wanna get it on with you
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes
I just wanna sing a song with you…
Monday, March 28, 2005
Will You Need Binoculars?
If I stand on the south side of the Charles River in Boston and throw up double middle fingers to the north side, do you think they'll be able to see me?
Because I'd sure love to tell the people at MIT how I feel about them turning me down while Boston U said hell yes, come be a grad student with us. We'll even consider giving you a scholarship to come over here and thumb your nose at Tech students.
And then don't forget the waitlist of Johns Hopkins.
Can I just say I'm bowled over? I fluctuated between being sure I'd get in to all 3 and thinking good grief, they'd be nuts to let me into any of those. Who would want me infesting the campus?
But now they're saying it's ok, like a koala infestation. The cutest infestation ever. Mitch Hedberg can come pat me on the head.
And now I feel even more bone-weary than before. Now that all the anticipation is gone, nothing is left but hard decisions and paperwork. I just want to sleep. (I haven't sleep for 10 days, cos that would be too long.)
This is Liz all-together . . .
I really don't feel all-together right now. But that's ok. Things will fall into place. I'm gonna go listen to a comedy CD, perhaps, so I quit quoting it, and get to the Sleater-Kinney that Claunch gave me. Mmm.
Now what?
Because I'd sure love to tell the people at MIT how I feel about them turning me down while Boston U said hell yes, come be a grad student with us. We'll even consider giving you a scholarship to come over here and thumb your nose at Tech students.
And then don't forget the waitlist of Johns Hopkins.
Can I just say I'm bowled over? I fluctuated between being sure I'd get in to all 3 and thinking good grief, they'd be nuts to let me into any of those. Who would want me infesting the campus?
But now they're saying it's ok, like a koala infestation. The cutest infestation ever. Mitch Hedberg can come pat me on the head.
And now I feel even more bone-weary than before. Now that all the anticipation is gone, nothing is left but hard decisions and paperwork. I just want to sleep. (I haven't sleep for 10 days, cos that would be too long.)
This is Liz all-together . . .
I really don't feel all-together right now. But that's ok. Things will fall into place. I'm gonna go listen to a comedy CD, perhaps, so I quit quoting it, and get to the Sleater-Kinney that Claunch gave me. Mmm.
Now what?
Sunday, March 27, 2005
All Things Have Risen
I honestly don't care enough is "risen" is grammatically correct (sorry Horvit, you'll never brainwash me into being a complete copyeditor). But things go up, slowly, surely, even when it seems like nothing ever will.
This is the first Easter Sunday I've ever spent in Fort Worth. It's funny how you can remember where you were back through the years . . . freshman year, out in the country of Texas, somewhere by the Brazos, I think. Sophomore year, in London, at Westminster Cathedral and then spending the afternoon in the bar of the Texas Embassy restaurant, where a friend was working all day. Last year, in San Antonio, with Maureen and her family. This year, my sister and I, 7 a.m. Mass and then a big dinner later on.
Faith is delicate. My faith in God has never faltered, not once in my life that I remember. My faith in my family never has either. But my faith in other people and institutions has been rocked, lately. Today I reminded myself that it's called faith for a reason . . . you've got to work at it. Keep reminding yourself you're doing the right thing. Keep reminding yourself that people are good and you should trust them. Keep reminding. Tie a string around your finger, tattoo it on your skin, and remember.
I will tattoo it on my body someday, where I can carry a constant reminder.
And also, a documentary (I love them, I am a dork and if you don't like them, you are a fool and not the cool way, either) just got finished and there were definitely puffins in it. Those little birds are definitely as cool as penguins and deserve equal notoreity (and that's from the root notorious, which is a BAD word, but I don't care, puffins are badasses).
Remember.
This is the first Easter Sunday I've ever spent in Fort Worth. It's funny how you can remember where you were back through the years . . . freshman year, out in the country of Texas, somewhere by the Brazos, I think. Sophomore year, in London, at Westminster Cathedral and then spending the afternoon in the bar of the Texas Embassy restaurant, where a friend was working all day. Last year, in San Antonio, with Maureen and her family. This year, my sister and I, 7 a.m. Mass and then a big dinner later on.
Faith is delicate. My faith in God has never faltered, not once in my life that I remember. My faith in my family never has either. But my faith in other people and institutions has been rocked, lately. Today I reminded myself that it's called faith for a reason . . . you've got to work at it. Keep reminding yourself you're doing the right thing. Keep reminding yourself that people are good and you should trust them. Keep reminding. Tie a string around your finger, tattoo it on your skin, and remember.
I will tattoo it on my body someday, where I can carry a constant reminder.
And also, a documentary (I love them, I am a dork and if you don't like them, you are a fool and not the cool way, either) just got finished and there were definitely puffins in it. Those little birds are definitely as cool as penguins and deserve equal notoreity (and that's from the root notorious, which is a BAD word, but I don't care, puffins are badasses).
Remember.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
A Long Report Of Telemarketers & Other Misc. Things
I realize it's been a while since the last entry, and guess it's because things keep falling apart and I feel like I'm constantly trying to fit little bits of my life back together. And it's not just my life, either. More than ever I'm discovering that your life can never be as simple as you want, and there are countless people woven into your life who feel the impact of every little thing you're party to.
What's new? Our journalism department is now the Schieffer School of Journalism, which is pretty cool. Gives me something spiffy to put on my resume. Lots of big names came, and I still like to tell people about how Bob Woodward was in my newsroom and shook my hand. He's a badass.
Spring break came, along with me not feeling so hot. I'd spent a few weeks studiously ignoring the painful lymph nodes "the size of cats" (says Jason) until my throat hurt, and when I finally made it to the doctor the verdict was strep, a tonsil infection and mono. Took enough drugs to kill everything and knock me out, and found that while a nice warm fuzzy feeling ensues after taking that many meds, it still has its down.
So most of break was spent unconscious, but the people who kept me company and listened to my ramblings rock my world about 19 different ways. The mono is a pretty severe case, and if you're sick the only thing you want is a little sympathy. My parents, my sister, Jason, Maureen, Emily, Stephen, Claunch, Loren, my darling editors and everyone from the newsroom . . . yeah, I owe these people a lot.
And to those people who give you grief when you don't feel well . . . you suck at life. (Yeah, especially you telemarketers who call my dorm at 9 a.m. when I'm asleep enough to actually answer.)
In other news . . . Easter is coming and Lent will be over soon, meaning I can drink again. It wasn't that big a deal not to drink, but good grief, if ever there were a time period where I would need a margarita or two, it's been this Lent. The Society of Professional Journalists had a code of ethics that calls on everyone to be accountable, be honest, minimize harm, stuff like that . . . good stuff, yah?
It's called being a decent human being, in my book, and I try . . . I've been trying for a few weeks now to be completely honest about things in an attempt to minimize harm to others (remember what I said about everybody's life getting woven into yours?). It seems no matter how hard I try, I always end up getting people pissed off. Do I suck at trying to be good or what?
Sometimes there are instances where you walk into something knowing you're going to hurt someone . . . wow. I wanted to be a doctor when I got to university. I still consider it sometimes. But then I'm not sure I could walk into something where I know I'm bearing bad news sometimes. How do you let a family know their son just died? How do you let someone know that things will never be the same? How do you tell someone that everything they think is different now?
I can't do that. I've done it a few times because I was doing what I felt was the best thing, but that doesn't help a lot. It doesn't help when you know you're doing it for the right reason or you're trying your best, if someone gets hurt, then it's your fault.
Hmm. I've forgotten where I was going with all that. So in conclusion, I'm sick, and will be for a while, but that's cool, at least I'm not contagious. If people give me grief for falling asleep all the time, I have a legit excuse now.
In addition to not infecting people, I'm still trying my best as far as a code of ethics. If you don't want to be a decent human being, then you suck at life.
A telemarketer just called. It's nearly 9 p.m. She was nice and asked if I was interested, I told her I wasn't, thanks very much, but have a good night. She said, you too, thanks, bye, and that was it.
There is good out there.
What's new? Our journalism department is now the Schieffer School of Journalism, which is pretty cool. Gives me something spiffy to put on my resume. Lots of big names came, and I still like to tell people about how Bob Woodward was in my newsroom and shook my hand. He's a badass.
Spring break came, along with me not feeling so hot. I'd spent a few weeks studiously ignoring the painful lymph nodes "the size of cats" (says Jason) until my throat hurt, and when I finally made it to the doctor the verdict was strep, a tonsil infection and mono. Took enough drugs to kill everything and knock me out, and found that while a nice warm fuzzy feeling ensues after taking that many meds, it still has its down.
So most of break was spent unconscious, but the people who kept me company and listened to my ramblings rock my world about 19 different ways. The mono is a pretty severe case, and if you're sick the only thing you want is a little sympathy. My parents, my sister, Jason, Maureen, Emily, Stephen, Claunch, Loren, my darling editors and everyone from the newsroom . . . yeah, I owe these people a lot.
And to those people who give you grief when you don't feel well . . . you suck at life. (Yeah, especially you telemarketers who call my dorm at 9 a.m. when I'm asleep enough to actually answer.)
In other news . . . Easter is coming and Lent will be over soon, meaning I can drink again. It wasn't that big a deal not to drink, but good grief, if ever there were a time period where I would need a margarita or two, it's been this Lent. The Society of Professional Journalists had a code of ethics that calls on everyone to be accountable, be honest, minimize harm, stuff like that . . . good stuff, yah?
It's called being a decent human being, in my book, and I try . . . I've been trying for a few weeks now to be completely honest about things in an attempt to minimize harm to others (remember what I said about everybody's life getting woven into yours?). It seems no matter how hard I try, I always end up getting people pissed off. Do I suck at trying to be good or what?
Sometimes there are instances where you walk into something knowing you're going to hurt someone . . . wow. I wanted to be a doctor when I got to university. I still consider it sometimes. But then I'm not sure I could walk into something where I know I'm bearing bad news sometimes. How do you let a family know their son just died? How do you let someone know that things will never be the same? How do you tell someone that everything they think is different now?
I can't do that. I've done it a few times because I was doing what I felt was the best thing, but that doesn't help a lot. It doesn't help when you know you're doing it for the right reason or you're trying your best, if someone gets hurt, then it's your fault.
Hmm. I've forgotten where I was going with all that. So in conclusion, I'm sick, and will be for a while, but that's cool, at least I'm not contagious. If people give me grief for falling asleep all the time, I have a legit excuse now.
In addition to not infecting people, I'm still trying my best as far as a code of ethics. If you don't want to be a decent human being, then you suck at life.
A telemarketer just called. It's nearly 9 p.m. She was nice and asked if I was interested, I told her I wasn't, thanks very much, but have a good night. She said, you too, thanks, bye, and that was it.
There is good out there.
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