October is usually my favorite month, when I'm not desperately seeking relief. What I mean is, I should be having fun, but I'm not. October offers so many fun things. Fall carnivals, pumpkin patches, cool weather to enjoy, and Halloween. Sadly, I am not finding any time to enjoy it.
This may be the worst semester I've ever had. I'm not going to go into specifics, but my school work is almost impossible to do. I can't force myself to do the things I need to do. I have no problem reading for my English classes, but I cannot start on my papers. I feel their eminent reality pressing my shoulders down. I feel like I'm swimming in a room full of files and I can't see the exit.
Not to mention the money problems my family's been having. Mom's got nothing, I've got nothing. I feel bad for even asking her for a few dollars for groceries. The government just won't cooperate either with her support checks and is a bitch (excuse me) to deal with my education benefits. I've had to call the government way more than I should have to this year. It's depressing and upsetting to think that there's money to be had and it's being held.
I am ready. I am ready to go home. Not 1241 Parkwood Chase. No. I mean Heaven. I'm ready. Take me now God, because there's nothing I want to deal with here. Nothing is worth it. Why the heck would I want to live in a world where everything is about money and sex? Why would I want to stay here, where nobody understands my heart and constantly judges me? Nothing can compare to Your grace and Your love, so why should I bother trying to find something similar here?
My fish is dying. My dog Sarah just passed. I won't allow myself to start on my papers. There's so much more. I can't see the light at the end.
I don't care if things will get better. I know they will. But there's always going to be something. There always IS something. Something that kills my soul.
Yes, I'm being pessimistic. Yes, I'm being dramatic. But it's how I feel. Period.
I hope to God that I am able to see a better day. I pray that He really does have a promise for me, for what have I done?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Thought Vomit.
Even though I have decided to write a serious post, my mind wants to run around and avoid the thoughts I have to type out. It's like trying to catch a toddler to give them a bath. It involves a lot of chasing, hiding, and splashing.
I see it even in my conversations with people. I make light of things that have more weight to them. I say, "I don't know," or make it seem like it's not a big deal, that I'm not serious about what I do. I'm not sure where this strange attitude has come from, but it's here.
Nonetheless, I feel like I have to write about what's really bothering me...maybe because I can't talk about it.
Ever since I was 13, I felt like I had some kind of talent in writing. I noticed it after my dad died, and kept going with it. I figured that I'd like to write for the rest of my life and never thought about doing anything else. If I couldn't make money writing creatively, I'd make it in journalism. Besides, I really liked writing about issues and seeing my name in print.
I worked hard through high school and worked my butt off at Kennesaw State. I left there with a 3.8 and transferred to the University of Georgia to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist. It was the place I had aimed to go for years. It was my ultimate goal. It may have seemed small to those going to private universities or ivy leagues, but it was my plan.
Now that I'm here, I often wonder what the hell I'm doing here.
I thought I was doing well last semester when I got A's on all of my Fink term papers. Now my second class with him, I feel like a failure. Sure, I got a B on my first paper of the semester. A B is good. But it's not good when you've made an A+ on three papers before. It's not good when Fink (master of news writing) says "your writing kills you."
Your writing kills you.
The one thing I know I am good at, kills me.
I am not multi-talented like a lot of people I know. I cannot sing, I cannot draw or paint, I cannot master an instrument, and I cannot do a good number of things. All I know how to do is write. And of course, I cannot even do this very well. But for it to have ruined my paper... kills me.
I know that Fink is only trying to help me and teach me how to write better. I understand this. I just don't understand how I could go back in time in regards to my writing. Maybe it's because I'm taking two English courses? Whatever it is, I need to fix it.
I see it even in my conversations with people. I make light of things that have more weight to them. I say, "I don't know," or make it seem like it's not a big deal, that I'm not serious about what I do. I'm not sure where this strange attitude has come from, but it's here.
Nonetheless, I feel like I have to write about what's really bothering me...maybe because I can't talk about it.
Ever since I was 13, I felt like I had some kind of talent in writing. I noticed it after my dad died, and kept going with it. I figured that I'd like to write for the rest of my life and never thought about doing anything else. If I couldn't make money writing creatively, I'd make it in journalism. Besides, I really liked writing about issues and seeing my name in print.
I worked hard through high school and worked my butt off at Kennesaw State. I left there with a 3.8 and transferred to the University of Georgia to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist. It was the place I had aimed to go for years. It was my ultimate goal. It may have seemed small to those going to private universities or ivy leagues, but it was my plan.
Now that I'm here, I often wonder what the hell I'm doing here.
I thought I was doing well last semester when I got A's on all of my Fink term papers. Now my second class with him, I feel like a failure. Sure, I got a B on my first paper of the semester. A B is good. But it's not good when you've made an A+ on three papers before. It's not good when Fink (master of news writing) says "your writing kills you."
Your writing kills you.
The one thing I know I am good at, kills me.
I am not multi-talented like a lot of people I know. I cannot sing, I cannot draw or paint, I cannot master an instrument, and I cannot do a good number of things. All I know how to do is write. And of course, I cannot even do this very well. But for it to have ruined my paper... kills me.
I know that Fink is only trying to help me and teach me how to write better. I understand this. I just don't understand how I could go back in time in regards to my writing. Maybe it's because I'm taking two English courses? Whatever it is, I need to fix it.
....
What am I going to do with my life? Do I want to write for a newspaper? I'd prefer not to.
Do I want to write for a magazine? Sure, but it'd have to be something important to me and to a lot of people. I couldn't write about fashion forever... I don't feel like it's important enough.
Do I want to be an editor? Yes, but I want to write too.
I want to be able to be creative with my words. I want to be someone people listen to. Someone people get inspiration from. I don't want to be stuck in a city council meeting hearing about an ordinance that is to be passed. That's just not for me.
I thought to myself today, "am I one of those girls who don't know what they want?" The answer was "yes." I don't really know what I want for myself, but at least I know myself.
God my music is annoying the crap out of me.
What am I going to do with my life? Do I want to write for a newspaper? I'd prefer not to.
Do I want to write for a magazine? Sure, but it'd have to be something important to me and to a lot of people. I couldn't write about fashion forever... I don't feel like it's important enough.
Do I want to be an editor? Yes, but I want to write too.
I want to be able to be creative with my words. I want to be someone people listen to. Someone people get inspiration from. I don't want to be stuck in a city council meeting hearing about an ordinance that is to be passed. That's just not for me.
I thought to myself today, "am I one of those girls who don't know what they want?" The answer was "yes." I don't really know what I want for myself, but at least I know myself.
God my music is annoying the crap out of me.
....
Like I mentioned before, sometimes I wonder what I'm doing here. I only have one other friend here besides Jenna. Bless Jenna, she's included me so much in what she does with her friends. I don't think I'd be as content as I am if I wasn't her roommate. But I haven't made any friends on my own accord. What is it that stops me from talking to people, branching out? Melissa is one of my good friends, but I don't see her a lot.
Sometimes I feel so alone. Do I really only have two friends here?
Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I have only been here a little over a year. I have no connections here other than school.
Sometimes I feel so alone. Do I really only have two friends here?
Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on myself. I have only been here a little over a year. I have no connections here other than school.
....
As you can tell, I have no answers for anything.
No matter what I write here, I still feel like I haven't fully explained my feelings on anything. As if words could describe the aching I feel sometimes.
No matter what I write here, I still feel like I haven't fully explained my feelings on anything. As if words could describe the aching I feel sometimes.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Non-Journalist Journalist.
Today I pushed myself to the max. I got three interviews done with journalism and advertising professors. I normally wouldn't punish myself like this, but I had no choice. The paper I am writing for Fink's class is probably one of the most demanding papers I've done yet, and it's not over. I have two difficult papers following this one.
I often think to myself that I am not cut out for journalism. That there is not a bone in my body that screams "news!" or that likes asking strange people questions about things I have no clue about. There is nothing in me that craves a newspaper.
Sure, throughout my training here at Grady I have gained a respect and almost protective attitude towards the news. I really do see the importance of it. I know that in order to keep our democracy going, we need the news. I know that journalists are the watchdogs who "bark in the night," as Fink says. (I don't know how many times he's said this, I'm sure it's a song and dance to him now.)
Whenever I sit in his class, however, I feel quite inadequate; especially compared to the students who work on the Red & Black, the student newspaper. I have never had enough time to write regularly for any paper or magazine. My school work has always been too much. Besides, I just am not a newspaper person.
Hopefully I will be able to find what I really love doing and do it. Perhaps editing is my thing. Maybe writing magazine articles about things that matter to me. Who knows where I will end up. I just know that I'm in His hands.
I often think to myself that I am not cut out for journalism. That there is not a bone in my body that screams "news!" or that likes asking strange people questions about things I have no clue about. There is nothing in me that craves a newspaper.
Sure, throughout my training here at Grady I have gained a respect and almost protective attitude towards the news. I really do see the importance of it. I know that in order to keep our democracy going, we need the news. I know that journalists are the watchdogs who "bark in the night," as Fink says. (I don't know how many times he's said this, I'm sure it's a song and dance to him now.)
Whenever I sit in his class, however, I feel quite inadequate; especially compared to the students who work on the Red & Black, the student newspaper. I have never had enough time to write regularly for any paper or magazine. My school work has always been too much. Besides, I just am not a newspaper person.
Hopefully I will be able to find what I really love doing and do it. Perhaps editing is my thing. Maybe writing magazine articles about things that matter to me. Who knows where I will end up. I just know that I'm in His hands.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
First Time Flooding
All photos have been taken from my Facebook friends. Thank you for your help.
When I was little, I loved splashing in the puddles of my front yard. I liked to squish the mud in between my toes and skip down the curb-river. When it rained, nature created a temporary playground for my friends and I.
I never thought in a million years that my neighborhood was in danger of a flood. It just didn't rain enough. My house was on a slight hill so I never gave it a second thought. Atlanta just didn't seem like the type of area that could flood. Endless talk of droughts never allowed for such ideas.
Now 285 is flooded and closed. People are trudging through torrent water and staring in awe as the places they know by heart have been transformed into unrecognizable danger areas.
The soccer fields where I used to traverse every season are now a lake of dirty water. The field I played on for the very first time is underwater.
It's strange how things can go from harmless to horrific. In the past, I shrugged when "flash flood watch" scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen. Now as I watch the weather channel, the red bar and alarming beeping add a sort of reality to the situation. This flood is really happening, and people are really in trouble. Houses are being flooded. Hot water heaters are breaking. Commutes are hours longer. Internet and power are out. Mudslides are damaging property and harming families. Roads are being washed out in neighborhoods.
I am astonished at just how much rain has fallen in the past two weeks. Not one day has had any sun. It seems a cloud of gloom moved in and keeps pouring on us. Why so much rain? Why is there no break? You'd think North Georgia has had enough but you'd think wrong. There is more rain on its way from southern Alabama.
Schools are closing around Metro Atlanta freeing up the kids for (possibly) the week. Families must brave the waters alone. Many Facebook statuses were complaints about the rain and then turned into unbelief as rivers started flooding over.
When I was little, I loved splashing in the puddles of my front yard. I liked to squish the mud in between my toes and skip down the curb-river. When it rained, nature created a temporary playground for my friends and I.
I never thought in a million years that my neighborhood was in danger of a flood. It just didn't rain enough. My house was on a slight hill so I never gave it a second thought. Atlanta just didn't seem like the type of area that could flood. Endless talk of droughts never allowed for such ideas.
Now 285 is flooded and closed. People are trudging through torrent water and staring in awe as the places they know by heart have been transformed into unrecognizable danger areas.The soccer fields where I used to traverse every season are now a lake of dirty water. The field I played on for the very first time is underwater.It's strange how things can go from harmless to horrific. In the past, I shrugged when "flash flood watch" scrolled across the bottom of the TV screen. Now as I watch the weather channel, the red bar and alarming beeping add a sort of reality to the situation. This flood is really happening, and people are really in trouble. Houses are being flooded. Hot water heaters are breaking. Commutes are hours longer. Internet and power are out. Mudslides are damaging property and harming families. Roads are being washed out in neighborhoods.
I am astonished at just how much rain has fallen in the past two weeks. Not one day has had any sun. It seems a cloud of gloom moved in and keeps pouring on us. Why so much rain? Why is there no break? You'd think North Georgia has had enough but you'd think wrong. There is more rain on its way from southern Alabama.
Schools are closing around Metro Atlanta freeing up the kids for (possibly) the week. Families must brave the waters alone. Many Facebook statuses were complaints about the rain and then turned into unbelief as rivers started flooding over.
"Jenny is gonna go buy a raft!"
"Nickole been stuck in traffic for FOUR HOURS trying to get home from work."
"Kasey-- No water, no power, no exit. Seriously rain, please stop!
"Melissa is worried about her family... please stop raining :("
Even a Kanye joke -- "Andrew-- Atlanta, I'm proud of you and I'mma let you finish, but New Orleans had the best flood of all TIME!"
My beloved Chestnut Hill. Impassible.
What a flood.
"Nickole been stuck in traffic for FOUR HOURS trying to get home from work."
"Kasey-- No water, no power, no exit. Seriously rain, please stop!
"Melissa is worried about her family... please stop raining :("
Even a Kanye joke -- "Andrew-- Atlanta, I'm proud of you and I'mma let you finish, but New Orleans had the best flood of all TIME!"
Most people are trying to find the fun in the change of scenery. A day or so off of school seems worth it to some. I kind of even wish it would flood here for that reason, just so long as no one gets hurt. My friends back home are celebrating the "flood day" by taking pictures and enjoying their cozy and dry homes.
I hope the rain stops soon and the sun shines for days. God promised He wouldn't use a flood to kill us off again, so I guess we're safe for now. I just can't wait to soak up that forgotten sun.
I hope the rain stops soon and the sun shines for days. God promised He wouldn't use a flood to kill us off again, so I guess we're safe for now. I just can't wait to soak up that forgotten sun.
My beloved Chestnut Hill. Impassible.
What a flood.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Once Upon a Time
Have you ever loved or admired something so much, but there was nothing you could do about it? No way to show your appreciation and no way to make it yours? This happens to me all the time. I never knew what it was that affected me so deeply after movies I watched that I loved. I never understood why I felt down after seeing something so great, until now.
One specific example I can remember is the night I came out of The Prince of Egypt. The movie was phenomenal. Uplifting. I was so happy I got to see it, but I had this overwhelming sense of complacency and emptiness.
Now that I'm older, I can place these feelings and get why I feel the way I do. I've always, always loved movies, well stories, in general. It is hard for people like me because when we fall in love with a story or character, there's nothing we can do about it. Sure, we can put up display pictures of our beloved prince or write fan fiction. We can let everyone know what we love by showing others... but we cannot have "it" for our own.
I will never be best friends with Anne of Green Gables. I won't ever be able to stare at Edward Cullen's perfect face. I'll never meet Satine or Christian, nor dance the night away at the Moulin Rouge. I'll never tell Thomas J. that I love him and that he shouldn't kick the bees' nest. I can never go to a fancy ball in a beautiful dress to dance with the prince or fly to Neverland with my beloved Peter Pan.
Most people my age grew up living through these stories. Halloween was the time to show everyone who you really wanted to be. Forget being a businessman or a lawyer. Little boys dressed up as Ninja Turtles, Robin Hood, or Luke Skywalker. Girls weren't dressed as nurses or journalists. They were dressed up as Princess Jasmine, Dorothy, and Tinker Bell.
These stories are what enriched our little lives, bringing magic and true love where there was a lack of it. These characters made us believe that anything could happen if we wanted it enough.
I suppose that I feel emptiness when I love a film, book, or (anything fantastical) because I cannot have it. I cannot be a part of it. I did not help create these beautiful characters. I will never know them and I will never be them.
Maybe Disney and many novelists did us a disservice by creating such wonderful worlds. Maybe they gave us false hopes. I mean, come on, Prince Charming? Hello!
Honestly, I'd rather feel sad about the stories not being real than having no story at all. Everything that I've loved and will love, makes my life worth living. I live for twisty plots and deep characters and mysteriously beautiful settings.
It might be because life is just so ordinary, but I think maybe, life can inspire such wonderful stories too. I hope one day that I find myself a beautiful heroine in a crazy and memorable, twisty plot.
Oh I wait for the day.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Indian Encounter
When I moved in this year, I knew we had new neighbors. They are Indian, and there were two of them, before I found out there were four. Our apartment is small. In fact, I can barely fit in my room on my own. They are sharing two to a room! I suppose that is pretty good living compared to how they might've lived in India? Sadly, I do not know a lot about Indian culture.
Anyway, all four of them knocked on our door earlier today -- yes, all four. They invited us to a birthday "party" they were throwing tonight for one of them. Jenna was nice about it and said we might stop by later, but it was not a yes.
Then, a few hours later, Jenna, Allie, and I were watching TV, and we were expecting one more friend to come over. There was a knock at the door, and we thought it was Sarah so we opened the door. It was two of our neighbors. "Oh..."
They told us that dinner was ready... and that they made some just for us. "Oh..." We tried to turn them down easily, as we had already eaten, but they were so adamant about us coming over that we decided (the three of us) to go over for a few minutes to be polite.
We went in, met all 4 of them, and quickly went into the kitchen were they introduced us to all the different Indian foods. It was my first time ever having Indian food, so it was kind of cool. But as we got our food, it got so awkward.They didn't eat. We tried to ask questions between bites, but when we got our answers it went silent for a minute and they'd just stare at us as we ate. SO AWKWARD!
When we finished, we tried to quickly but politely leave. They said they had more friends coming so we wanted to go. Once the door shut we all looked at each other in somewhat disbelief and embarrassment. Yikes.
That was my very awkward night. I hope we aren't invited again, honestly. I don't know if it is custom to invite neighbors to dinner or wait while guests are eating, but it was too awkward. They were nice enough, but I don't do well in those kinds of situations. Eeep.
Anyway, all four of them knocked on our door earlier today -- yes, all four. They invited us to a birthday "party" they were throwing tonight for one of them. Jenna was nice about it and said we might stop by later, but it was not a yes.
Then, a few hours later, Jenna, Allie, and I were watching TV, and we were expecting one more friend to come over. There was a knock at the door, and we thought it was Sarah so we opened the door. It was two of our neighbors. "Oh..."
They told us that dinner was ready... and that they made some just for us. "Oh..." We tried to turn them down easily, as we had already eaten, but they were so adamant about us coming over that we decided (the three of us) to go over for a few minutes to be polite.
We went in, met all 4 of them, and quickly went into the kitchen were they introduced us to all the different Indian foods. It was my first time ever having Indian food, so it was kind of cool. But as we got our food, it got so awkward.They didn't eat. We tried to ask questions between bites, but when we got our answers it went silent for a minute and they'd just stare at us as we ate. SO AWKWARD!
When we finished, we tried to quickly but politely leave. They said they had more friends coming so we wanted to go. Once the door shut we all looked at each other in somewhat disbelief and embarrassment. Yikes.
That was my very awkward night. I hope we aren't invited again, honestly. I don't know if it is custom to invite neighbors to dinner or wait while guests are eating, but it was too awkward. They were nice enough, but I don't do well in those kinds of situations. Eeep.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Contemplating my major
I forgot to mention in my last post that after I left Fink's class, I felt worried. I believe I went through this last year, but I think the feeling is stronger this time around.
Fink is a newspaper man. A real go-getter. A man who rules in absolutes. He wants us to learn his ways and how to go about managing a newspaper. This is all well and good, but I do not give a damn about newspapers. I have no passion for it like he does. If put in his position, I would probably fail any paper I'm in charge of. I'm sure with enough experience under my belt, I could be a good manager. But this is not what I wish for my life.
I am not a hard-ass news reporter. I believe that there is always more than one way to look at something, and that is just not his style, so he says. I am not about hard news facts, retail trading zone and advertising dollars. I love reading; stories, characters, plots, and symbolism; writing my thoughts; writing about the world, moral issues, spiritual issues; I love photography and art; I love being creative.
I can't stand the structured business of the inverted pyramid structure, the constraints of journalistic writing. I dislike interviewing people I don't know or don't care for. I told my English professor that I don't like journalism and she asked me why I'm majoring in it.
Good question. It's a way to get paid for writing. I do like writing, but I want to be freer than those journalists at the AJC. With what I am learning, I could very well write for a magazine. I could become an editor at a paper, a magazine, or better -- a publication house. My major is like an umbrella. It covers a lot of careers that I could pick from. That is why I am a publication management major. I have the choice to be a writer or a top editor if I so choose.
I have waited so long to do what I love in college. I've taken many pointless classes like anthropology or public speaking. I'm finally taking my major's classes. But in order to be happy and get what I NEED for my future career, I'm taking English courses. You may be thinking, "English? You're crazy!" Yes, it is a lot of reading and critical thinking, but I enjoy it. I used to loathe going to English in high school, where we'd have to sit in a circle and speak 3 times to get a passing grade. But over the years I have grown fond of reading stories, meeting new characters, and learning what authors mean through their work. I also figure that the more I read, the better writer I will become.
I think I just needed to help myself understand why I am where I am. I think I needed to express my frustration with my journalism education and reestablish who I am. I am not like the other J-school kids who work at the school newspaper every day and are ready with pen and paper at every event. Sometimes I wish I was, but that's not me.
Fink is a newspaper man. A real go-getter. A man who rules in absolutes. He wants us to learn his ways and how to go about managing a newspaper. This is all well and good, but I do not give a damn about newspapers. I have no passion for it like he does. If put in his position, I would probably fail any paper I'm in charge of. I'm sure with enough experience under my belt, I could be a good manager. But this is not what I wish for my life.
I am not a hard-ass news reporter. I believe that there is always more than one way to look at something, and that is just not his style, so he says. I am not about hard news facts, retail trading zone and advertising dollars. I love reading; stories, characters, plots, and symbolism; writing my thoughts; writing about the world, moral issues, spiritual issues; I love photography and art; I love being creative.
I can't stand the structured business of the inverted pyramid structure, the constraints of journalistic writing. I dislike interviewing people I don't know or don't care for. I told my English professor that I don't like journalism and she asked me why I'm majoring in it.
Good question. It's a way to get paid for writing. I do like writing, but I want to be freer than those journalists at the AJC. With what I am learning, I could very well write for a magazine. I could become an editor at a paper, a magazine, or better -- a publication house. My major is like an umbrella. It covers a lot of careers that I could pick from. That is why I am a publication management major. I have the choice to be a writer or a top editor if I so choose.
I have waited so long to do what I love in college. I've taken many pointless classes like anthropology or public speaking. I'm finally taking my major's classes. But in order to be happy and get what I NEED for my future career, I'm taking English courses. You may be thinking, "English? You're crazy!" Yes, it is a lot of reading and critical thinking, but I enjoy it. I used to loathe going to English in high school, where we'd have to sit in a circle and speak 3 times to get a passing grade. But over the years I have grown fond of reading stories, meeting new characters, and learning what authors mean through their work. I also figure that the more I read, the better writer I will become.
I think I just needed to help myself understand why I am where I am. I think I needed to express my frustration with my journalism education and reestablish who I am. I am not like the other J-school kids who work at the school newspaper every day and are ready with pen and paper at every event. Sometimes I wish I was, but that's not me.
Monday, August 17, 2009
First Day of School
As expected, my first day back to UGA grew butterflies in my stomach and doubt in my mind. As I am getting closer to my graduation date, my classes are getting harder and more demanding.
Luckily, my first class I had today did not seem like it would end my social life (if I have one). There will be a lot of reading as it is Intro to Fiction. We will be studying what comprises fiction and why stories are the way they are. I am really looking forward to reading the different stories we'll be assigned and getting to know the art of fiction better. I have another English class which will be purely fiction from 1890 and up. That will be good too. Lots of reading though.
Once I got that class over with, I felt a little better. I actually know a girl in that class. We met last Friday at a Pancake party. She's super nice, so hopefully I can sit next to her next time. She introduced me to her friend who also knows my roommate and her best friend. Connections. :]
With everything going well, I headed to the dreaded Mr. Fink. Top journalist, AP. My butterflies started churning on the walk there; it felt like someone had lit them all on fire and they were dying a hot, flamey death.
I was surprised to see that most of the students in my Publication management class were female. A little disappointed too. But anyway... when I sat down it felt like I had never left for a whole summer. There he was in all of his glory -- full bushy eyebrows and balding head, Mr. Fink was in tip-top shape. What had happened last year, came back to haunt me. When I introduced myself to the class, he caught me and told me to speak up again. I might've died a little inside. As I tried to raise my voice and continue, he kept speaking so I was interrupted a few times. I pretty much gave up and told him what I plan on doing after I graduate, quickly. My eyes got watery a few minutes later because, again, I had done what I always do. Always the quiet one. But enough about that. He will know my awesomeness through my work.
After school, Jenna and I went kickboxing. It is "free fitness class" week at Ramsey and so we tried it. I was very unsure about it because I had never tried it before and I knew it would be rigorous. I was right, it was. But it was so much fun!! I was literally punching and kicking with ease but oh did it burn. I sweat a lot. I know that's gross, but you know you're getting a good work out when you do. It's a little expensive, but I'm going to work hard to pay for it.
On Wednesday, UGA is hosting a part-time job fair. I am going to go to it and seek a job. If I don't find anything, I will apply at Target and hopefully work about 3-4 days a week, mostly mornings I hope. I need money!!
I guess I got everything off my chest that I wanted to, so now I'm going to do some reading. Peace.
Luckily, my first class I had today did not seem like it would end my social life (if I have one). There will be a lot of reading as it is Intro to Fiction. We will be studying what comprises fiction and why stories are the way they are. I am really looking forward to reading the different stories we'll be assigned and getting to know the art of fiction better. I have another English class which will be purely fiction from 1890 and up. That will be good too. Lots of reading though.
Once I got that class over with, I felt a little better. I actually know a girl in that class. We met last Friday at a Pancake party. She's super nice, so hopefully I can sit next to her next time. She introduced me to her friend who also knows my roommate and her best friend. Connections. :]
With everything going well, I headed to the dreaded Mr. Fink. Top journalist, AP. My butterflies started churning on the walk there; it felt like someone had lit them all on fire and they were dying a hot, flamey death.
I was surprised to see that most of the students in my Publication management class were female. A little disappointed too. But anyway... when I sat down it felt like I had never left for a whole summer. There he was in all of his glory -- full bushy eyebrows and balding head, Mr. Fink was in tip-top shape. What had happened last year, came back to haunt me. When I introduced myself to the class, he caught me and told me to speak up again. I might've died a little inside. As I tried to raise my voice and continue, he kept speaking so I was interrupted a few times. I pretty much gave up and told him what I plan on doing after I graduate, quickly. My eyes got watery a few minutes later because, again, I had done what I always do. Always the quiet one. But enough about that. He will know my awesomeness through my work.
After school, Jenna and I went kickboxing. It is "free fitness class" week at Ramsey and so we tried it. I was very unsure about it because I had never tried it before and I knew it would be rigorous. I was right, it was. But it was so much fun!! I was literally punching and kicking with ease but oh did it burn. I sweat a lot. I know that's gross, but you know you're getting a good work out when you do. It's a little expensive, but I'm going to work hard to pay for it.
On Wednesday, UGA is hosting a part-time job fair. I am going to go to it and seek a job. If I don't find anything, I will apply at Target and hopefully work about 3-4 days a week, mostly mornings I hope. I need money!!
I guess I got everything off my chest that I wanted to, so now I'm going to do some reading. Peace.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Heart v. Head
I'm not going to make a long post. I just wanted to say that my mind and my heart are always at opposites. My mind, usually logical, knows what I need to do - what I should do. My heart ignores the important warnings and goes ahead and wants things it cannot and should not have. When these two collide, it's a major disaster stirring in my body. It's like the scene in Sleeping Beauty where the pink fairy and the blue fairy have a fight with their colors. Pink and blue clash together, one pushing the other back; blue overtaking the pink then quickly the pink overtaking the blue until they explode all over the house making a horrific mess. Then I'm left trying to sort out which color belongs where.
No one expects the pain of realizing you've just made a complete mess of things.
No one expects the pain of realizing you've just made a complete mess of things.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Bob Dylan Concert
Last night, my mom and I traveled to Alpharetta, Georgia to see Bob Dylan, my mom's favorite singer. My mom is in love with him as an artist. We all know Bob's voice is gruff and, frankly, kind of sucks. But if you listen to his lyrics, they are quite clever. My mom loves his 'religious phase" he went through in the 80s..? After listening to hundreds of his songs over a 6 month period, I'd have to say that the religious ones are my favorite too. He took such crap for singing them too.
With that said, we traveled to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater. Also there was Willie Nelson and John "Cougar" Mellencamp. All acts were great.
Willie Nelson
Mom said Willie hasn't changed in 40 years. His voice hasn't faded, his hair is still in long braids, and his arms still hang around his guitar in the same fashion. He put on a good show. Country is not my thing, but I enjoyed hearing his music.
John "Cougar" Mellencamp
I got one short video during the group's performance. I thought these two were adorable. I wish to someday dance with my husband like this at a concert. So funny.
I didn't get any pictures for his act because drama unfolded. Firstly, the sky threatened us with a downpour.
Many people had to get soaked because they had the lawn seats behind us. Luckily, we were covered by the huge overhang.
Then, to make matters more stressful, this skinny girl in a blue t-shirt would not sit down. It's ok to stand up during a song and dance and what not, especially when everyone else is doing it...but this girl refused to sit down even when everyone else was seated. She was sitting in the front row, blocking about 40 people, at least, behind her ass. Her boyfriend was standing too, but he eventually sat down because people were complaining. One of the security officers tried to get her to sit down and mentioned that the people behind her could not see. At this news, she lifted her slender arm and flicked us all off. Everyone was angry. She stood and sipped her 4th beer while all of us sat looking at her dancing ass. After about 20 more minutes of missing Mellencamp's performance, the security (with the help of her pleading boyfriend) dragged her down to the lower level out of everyone's sight. But before she left, she turned around and flicked us all off once again. Everyone cheered as she walked down the stairs. Hurrah.
Bob Dylan
He was good. His voice was hard to decode. I didn't neccessarily enjoy the singing, but I enjoyed his enthusiasm and the great live music. I was pretty relaxed. My mom made me go take a few pictures down on the lower level, until I nearly got in trouble. After that I reclined and listened. It was nice. Meanwhile, my mom was making "bathroom" trips down the the lower level. She got thrown out 3 times. Oh mom.
I made this quick video for my mom as a memento. It's not good but it serves its purpose.
With that said, we traveled to the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater. Also there was Willie Nelson and John "Cougar" Mellencamp. All acts were great.
Willie Nelson
Mom said Willie hasn't changed in 40 years. His voice hasn't faded, his hair is still in long braids, and his arms still hang around his guitar in the same fashion. He put on a good show. Country is not my thing, but I enjoyed hearing his music.
John "Cougar" Mellencamp
I got one short video during the group's performance. I thought these two were adorable. I wish to someday dance with my husband like this at a concert. So funny.
I didn't get any pictures for his act because drama unfolded. Firstly, the sky threatened us with a downpour.
Many people had to get soaked because they had the lawn seats behind us. Luckily, we were covered by the huge overhang.
Then, to make matters more stressful, this skinny girl in a blue t-shirt would not sit down. It's ok to stand up during a song and dance and what not, especially when everyone else is doing it...but this girl refused to sit down even when everyone else was seated. She was sitting in the front row, blocking about 40 people, at least, behind her ass. Her boyfriend was standing too, but he eventually sat down because people were complaining. One of the security officers tried to get her to sit down and mentioned that the people behind her could not see. At this news, she lifted her slender arm and flicked us all off. Everyone was angry. She stood and sipped her 4th beer while all of us sat looking at her dancing ass. After about 20 more minutes of missing Mellencamp's performance, the security (with the help of her pleading boyfriend) dragged her down to the lower level out of everyone's sight. But before she left, she turned around and flicked us all off once again. Everyone cheered as she walked down the stairs. Hurrah.
Bob Dylan
He was good. His voice was hard to decode. I didn't neccessarily enjoy the singing, but I enjoyed his enthusiasm and the great live music. I was pretty relaxed. My mom made me go take a few pictures down on the lower level, until I nearly got in trouble. After that I reclined and listened. It was nice. Meanwhile, my mom was making "bathroom" trips down the the lower level. She got thrown out 3 times. Oh mom.
I made this quick video for my mom as a memento. It's not good but it serves its purpose.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Craig's List Blunders
Wanted to share this site with you all: YousuckatCriagslist
It's a collection of strange Craig's List postings. My favorite is the ironing board entry.
People are so dumb.
It's a collection of strange Craig's List postings. My favorite is the ironing board entry.
People are so dumb.
Not sure what these are
Not sure what these are, they are too heavy to float, but they look like surf boards. They have legs under them like a very tall table. I think they are some sort of surf training tool. If you would like one or both of them, please let me know if you would like them.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Volturi
I know a lot of people hate the Twilight "phenomenon," but I know more people that are obsessed. I don't think I qualify myself as a "Twilighter" but I am a fan. I've read all the books, I've seen the movie, and I'm listening to the audio book now... Mind you, I wouldn't go rip Rob Pattenson's clothes off if I saw him on the street. I enjoy the story and the characters, and I like seeing it all come together on the big screen.
With that said, here's the cast of the Volturi. Take a look:
I'm impressed by the choices made here. I don't really know any of the actors (except Dakota Fanning, which by the way looks awesome). I like how creepy Marcus looks and Aro and Caius look very vampirish, evil. I'm excited. :]
For more New Moon news, visit NewMoonTrailer Blog
[EDIT]
So I just watched the first released clips of New Moon from Comic-con, and I have to say, I am so ashamed. SUCH A GIRL MOVIE! I can tell that it's going to be one hot bod after the next. (Not that I am complaining.) You have to see it for yourself on the blog. It is so ridiculous I had to cover my face! I feel like it's just a fan-service movie now... ay carumba!
With that said, here's the cast of the Volturi. Take a look:
I'm impressed by the choices made here. I don't really know any of the actors (except Dakota Fanning, which by the way looks awesome). I like how creepy Marcus looks and Aro and Caius look very vampirish, evil. I'm excited. :]
For more New Moon news, visit NewMoonTrailer Blog
[EDIT]
So I just watched the first released clips of New Moon from Comic-con, and I have to say, I am so ashamed. SUCH A GIRL MOVIE! I can tell that it's going to be one hot bod after the next. (Not that I am complaining.) You have to see it for yourself on the blog. It is so ridiculous I had to cover my face! I feel like it's just a fan-service movie now... ay carumba!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Not Assigned: Jane Eyre
"You examine me, Miss Eyre," said he: "do you think me handsome?"
"No sir."
Burn!
I'm reading Jane Eyre this summer. It's taken me about 3 months to complete it because of the summer I've had. The picture to the right stuns me. Both of the characters here are so much more handsome than they are in the book. In fact, both of their characters are the way they are because they're not attractive. But I guess no one wants to see ugly people on the big screen (ha-ha). What stuns me even more is that this film was directed by Franco Zeffirelli. If you know anything about his work, you'd know he directed Romeo & Juliet in the 1970s and also Jesus of Nazareth, to name a few. His Jane Eyre was done in 1996. That is a lot of accomplishment! I have not seen his rendition, but I hear it is not very good. (Zeffirelli is 86 now.)
Enough about the film. I have not finished Jane Eyre yet, but I wanted to recommend it. Growing up, Jane Eyre was just another book students groaned about having to read. I even had a close friend refuse to read it because she loathed it so. I guess when you're in high school, you hate assigned readings and you aren't very interested in the depressing life of an orphan. I was personally never assigned to read the book, and I am glad. Usually that would ruin a book for me, in hindsight. Books that were ruined for me? Catch-22, Crime & Punishment (Don't think I would've read it anyway), The Lord of the Flies (GOD I hate that book), and a lot of Poe's work. I am off topic. In short, Jane Eyre was nothing but another assigned reading in my eyes.
With the convincing of my roommate, I decided to pick up the book for my summer reading. Jane is the kind of girl I can relate to. She is somewhat plain on the outside but has dreams and hopes on the inside. Even though she's led a horribly simple life, she too wants to be romanced and to see the world. Her chance finally comes when she is asked to come to Thornfield, a great mansion owned by Edward Rochester. Finally a change of scene from the cold orphanage she grew up in and taught at. When she arrives, she is pleasantly surprised by the kindness of Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper. She is relieved to be somewhere she is wanted and appreciated. As governess of Miss Adele, Mr. Rochester's "ward", Jane is content but is still missing excitement. All this changes when Mr. Rochester finally comes back to Thornfield.
What I really like about this book is that Jane undergoes severe tribulations in her life, and yet she still, like any girl, longs for love. We get to share her obession over Mr. Rochester, like we would share with a friend. Thoughts of "where is he?" "will I get to see him today?" are like what would be flowing through my mind if I were in love with someone. Jane even has to compete with gorgeous women for Mr. R's attention, who hasn't been through that before? I really admire the straight-forward relationship Jane and Mr. R have. Jane does not hide her thoughts, she is true to herself and Mr. R seems to really admire that.
I recommend this book to anyone who can overlook its "summer reading list" facade. Definitely a chick book, but so worth the read. I give it an A+
Sunday, July 26, 2009
20 Questions, Life, and Wonderland
I know it's been awhile, but there's several reasons for that. But before I go into that, I wanted to tell you about this awesome website game by Disney. I can't tell you how many minutes I've wasted away trying to outwit this thing. 20Questions is the same basic game, but it's pretty accurate. Let's say I wanted to play the Star Trek themed 20Q. I click on the button and think of an object, person, or place. The first time I chose Sarek, Spock's father -- a Vulcan. Within about 17 questions it got it right. It even guessed Jon Foreman, the lead singer of Switchfoot, on another try. He's not that famous. So give it a whirl here.
Sadly, I've only made one post on this blog. I kind of set it up and ran. Basically this summer has been a big bummer. I've been taking two courses at KSU. Not art or psychology, oh no...accounting and management. I figured it'd be best to get these classes over with at KSU instead of UGA in the fall. I paid for what I got. My management class was the class from hell. I swear, if I had to take 3 other courses, I would have failed. But anyway... this summer has also been filled with family drama and relationship problems. Can't tell you specifically, but I can say that it had me begging for mercy.
I'm really trying to be positive though. I'm one final away from being done with summer school, I am going to NY in a week, and I'll be back in Athens soon. Good news. But I think what really made me feel better about my life was my trip to church this morning. God really spoke to me. He said what he said loud and clear, so there was no confusion. I needed that more than anything.
Wish I could write more, but I'm awfully tired. Goodnight.
P.S.
If you haven't seen it, here's the new Alice In Wonderland movie. Are you excited?
Monday, February 9, 2009
Small Town Girl
I never thought that I could ever enjoy living in a small town. I always, even to this day, thought that I was a city girl -- in love with skyscrapers, busy sidewalks, and noisy chaos. I was completely wrong. Here I am in Athens, a relatively small town with an actual main street and its own history. Sure, it gets loud and the sidewalks can be busy, but this city is so quaint and so lovely. I believe the reason I am writing this is because I got to spend some time downtown today, something I never get to do, and realized that I felt content. I even had the urge to write for pleasure -- and I did.
"Walking down College Avenue, the sun shining down brightly (too warm for February), I look up from the cracked pavement to notice multiple faces curiously turning toward my direction. I look down and back up, carefully avoiding eyes, wondering what the hell they're all thinking. "Doesn't matter," I lightly comfort myself as I smile. Still, though obviously uncomfortable, I manage to enjoy my stroll to Starbucks. It's beautiful. If every day, every place, every moment was as bright, warm, sunny, and care free as this... I think I may not need anything more in life.
Bravely, as to defy my captive audience, I sit down gracefully at an iron table just outside the Starbucks, joining the mass of people who are enjoying the day in various ways: reading large books, conversing about past girlfriends, a lot of cell phone conversing, and a black scrawny woman telling me to give her all of my change... at this I am not surprised; it's all a part of being downtown. Even the loud puttering of exhaust pipes and the occasional siren of a passing ambulance add to this town's soundtrack."
Although it's not really anything to brag about, I'm extremely happy to have finally written something ...for myself! It's not great, but it fulfills its purpose.
Hopefully, I will be able to post short writings like this here, along with my thoughts, feelings, worries, expectations, hopes and doubts. I want this blog to be an outlet for my soul. Somewhere I can go to just pour it all out.
"Walking down College Avenue, the sun shining down brightly (too warm for February), I look up from the cracked pavement to notice multiple faces curiously turning toward my direction. I look down and back up, carefully avoiding eyes, wondering what the hell they're all thinking. "Doesn't matter," I lightly comfort myself as I smile. Still, though obviously uncomfortable, I manage to enjoy my stroll to Starbucks. It's beautiful. If every day, every place, every moment was as bright, warm, sunny, and care free as this... I think I may not need anything more in life.
Bravely, as to defy my captive audience, I sit down gracefully at an iron table just outside the Starbucks, joining the mass of people who are enjoying the day in various ways: reading large books, conversing about past girlfriends, a lot of cell phone conversing, and a black scrawny woman telling me to give her all of my change... at this I am not surprised; it's all a part of being downtown. Even the loud puttering of exhaust pipes and the occasional siren of a passing ambulance add to this town's soundtrack."
Although it's not really anything to brag about, I'm extremely happy to have finally written something ...for myself! It's not great, but it fulfills its purpose.
Hopefully, I will be able to post short writings like this here, along with my thoughts, feelings, worries, expectations, hopes and doubts. I want this blog to be an outlet for my soul. Somewhere I can go to just pour it all out.
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