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BewilderedAndBefuddled
CarnivorousDanus
DapperDave
Itsmekris
KnowledgeNOW
Matt
MaybeItsABaer
Mondry
If you own a Mac, this post will make more sense. Also, if you own a Mac, you should post your dock info too.
In my dock — on the left side, no magnification, no auto-hide, and with an add-on to make the background transparent — from top to bottom:
Ta-da!
My beloved CO201 professor, Paula Panich, used to encourage us to practice "freewriting" everyday. It's an exercise where, for five minutes, you write non-stop (no worries about spelling, punctuation, grammar, anything) about something. She used to e-mail us topics.
I'd like to announce I've started doing it again. I'm using Merriam-Webster's word-of-the-day as my topic. It's good practice.
As I drove through town last night, I noticed an abnormally full parking lot at the local IGA grocery. Then I saw the sign: "Secret Sale Friday 5-10 p.m."
That explains it, I thought to myself. I briefly wondered what was on sale. Then I remembered what "secret sales" are like. The worst of Spencer County's residents flock down to town with their dirty children and redneck husbands. They walk in, barefoot, smoking, shorts too short and shirts too big. Two kids and a shopping cart in tow, cart overfilling by the time they're finished shopping and with a fifth cigarette.
They, of course, write a check to pay for the goods. Checks from one of the local banks, handwriting childlike, harried local high school girls trying to check people out as fast as possible. Regardless, the lines still spill into the aisles, making it impossible to navigate the store. Children are shouting, trying to get mom to buy them just one piece of candy, mom needs more cigarettes — "Virginia Slims 100s in a box," she says, disinterested, trying to get her kids in line, then the cashier has to find the key to unlock the case, fight through the mess of lines and back.
I drove past, quickly.
When I first began smoking, I was maybe 13. Well, I guess it was more like dabbling. But I would spend the weekends at my mother's, pinching her cheap-ass menthol light cigarettes while she was asleep. The neighbor and I would pinch better ones from her dad and brother, and sometimes we got another neighbor to buy us some.
There was one time when my dad busted me. That happened a couple times, actually, but this one was by far the most interesting. (Just as interesting were the excuses I tried to come up with.)
I was stashing cigarettes in this little black box I had. I guess it was intended for small pieces of jewelry, like the earrings I was also stashing in there. Regardless, my dad one-upped me. He found them, and instead of ever saying a word, he just took the cigarettes out.
In their place was a note: "Busted again," it said. "Love, Dad."
I wonder where that box went.
From tonight.
Can't sleep. Too much coffee, too much work, too much living. Can't sleep. Laying in bed, staring into the dark. Not tired, but knowing morning isn't far enough away. Can't sleep. Need holding, need company, need sleep. Eyes looking into the dark. Can't sleep. Pick up my pen and try to write.
From early this morning.
I think I want to move to Atlanta or Nashville. Soon. Southern big cities. I think that's my key.
Tomorrow is my last day at AM's. That's where I am now.
It's been raining again. I'm so sick of the rain. That's all it does here, rain. But once I go to Boston, it'll do the same thing, but the rain isn't nearly as pleasant and I hate it even more. Here, when it rains, everything smells clean and new and good, but in Boston it's just cold and wet.
I've been reading Bukowski, an anthology of his poems and short stories. I really like it; it was $16 well-spent. Of course, I still need to buy a new AP stylebook (the 2004 edition is out and spiral bound), and I want/need a copy of "The Lady Bullfighter Checks Her Makeup." Those will have to wait, though, because I have to pay off school this week with my own money. The loan check won't get here in time, so I'll be broke all next week. Sad, eh?
Back to work.
Alright. So I've been slacking on the blog again. However, people seem to comment more if I've neglected the page. But right now I don't have time to write anything interesting ... I have a lot to do before I leave next Friday. And, if I don't find out what's going on with my loan, I won't be going very far. Stupid slow ass people.
Anyways. For the Sept. 1 launch of the new Snitch site, I still need to:
I press my lips around the cigarette firmly, denting the filter. The filter ends up dented, an oval with a collapsed part where my lips rest. I close my eyes, inhale, take the cigarette from my mouth. I open my eyes, my mouth an O, mocking the shape of the cigarette. I exhale slowly. And then, calm.
I realized the other night that yes, I am very ambitious and determined, but to what end and what is my motivation? I'm not inspired by dreams of fame or fortune — give me enough money to live comfortably and I'm happy. As far as fame — I don't like being in the spotlight. I have stage fright.
What other reasons are common? I don't know, but the only reason I could give myself was this: I am driven by the goal to succeed. There are no rewards I need, I just want to know I did the best. I do want a Pulitzer, but that's because it says, "She is the best writer in this category."
I watch the Olympics and wonder what it would be like to get a gold medal — because then I would be the top of the sport. So is it possible my motivation is merely that?
And the other part of the question is, what do I want to be the best in? At the moment, yes, it's writing, but that could simply be because I've always been good at it, usually the top of the class. I've already come a long way, so it's a head start towards becoming great. Right?
Well, I'm tired. I, as I've frequently pointed out today, worked 11-hours straight. Not remarkable, I know, but something I haven't done in a while and wasn't really expecting to do. So I'm going now. More Olympics to watch, then sleep.
Well, I was going to order my iPod mini today. I had made up my mind to do, after much consideration over the wisest way to spend my money. I went through all the steps on the Apple site, and I was at the last one. It said, "expected shipping date: four weeks." I closed the window.
I'll wait until I'm at school, I think.
I've been working on the Snitch site a bunch this weekend. It's a dreadfully boring process. I think I'm going to pack up the laptop in a bit and head down to Barnes&Noble and work on it there. Maybe. I want to get out of the house, and I like making money, I don't have anything else to do and the site needs to be done. So yeah, probably.
Of course, while in J-town, I'll also go see my boy. Then again, I'd go out to J-town just to see him in a heartbeat. Like I did last night. Yeah, I'm going. Bye.
Look! It's before noon and I'm awake! Crazy. Of course, I did sleep from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m. last night, then from about 2:30-10:30 a.m.
I wonder if coffee and cigarettes is coming out on DVD anytime soon. I was really disappointed it didn't play in theaters around here. I always think about that in the mornings.
Speaking of cigarettes (or should that be writing of?), the entire Snitch editorial staff, sans our photographer, smokes. It's funny, because smoke breaks are really just working meetings downstairs. Also, with the exception of Des, who smokes Epics, everyone currently smokes Camels. We're so cool.
I turned in my two-weeks at Adam's yesterday. It felt fantastic. In retrospect, a few things I learned this summer:
A few things I did:
I guess that's enough for now. E is on his way out of the shower, and that means I got to go get in.
Sorry it's been a while. Thing's have been crazy. The insert was finally finished today, but it was quite a debacle. At 11:30 a.m., my boss had signed off on all the pages. I said, "So we're finished, right?" He said, "Oh, no, we have to wait for Frank [our main sponsor] to come approve all the pages." "Oh," said I.
So Frank gets there 30 minutes late. The guy from the Courier Journal is waiting for the CD. Frank wants to change the cover. I tell the CJ guy he should probably leave. The cover gets changed. I think it's ugly but I said not a word for fear of having to do more work. Then Zach wants to move two pages around. Then Adam wants me to review the AMI ad with Shannon, the marketing person. Shannon hates the concept of the ad and piss-ily refuses to give me any advice per Adam's request. I say, "Fuck it," and leave it how it is.
At 3 p.m., the CD was burned and I left, two hours later than usual. I was hungry. I went to Snitch before going to get lunch, so I could make my presence known, and call school. School tells me no, the way I got the unsub loan for spring 2004 semester won't work for this fall. They give me no real options for paying the rest of my tuition. Very unhelpful.
Then we have a Web site meeting at Snitch. Still no lunch. It's decided I'm really going to be in charge of the new Snitch site. I'll be paid basically salary — we'll estimate my average number of hours per week, then they will pay me that knowing some weeks it'll be more and some less. I'll work 10-15 hours per week from my desk in the Russky Dom and make $10/hour. Provided that I get another loan to cover school and get enough to pay off my car, I shouldn't have to get another job. That'd be fantastic.
Oh, and Adam called to complain about the way the PDFs of the insert pages were opening in Photoshop, and Prev iew, and Acrobat Reader. I kept trying to shut him up but he wouldn't listen. I almost threw the phone.
All this typing is making my hands hurt and my brain tired. So that's all on the "why my day was shitty" front.
This morning I decided I should consider getting a law degree and passing the bar. I think it'd be useful and beneficial to my career — maybe more so than getting my JO doctorate. We'll see. I mean, how cool would it be if I could technically be a lawyer but choose to be a writer instead? I'd know all sorts of important stuff ... And I'd be great on a crime beat.
I know it's not even 11 p.m., but I'm very tired. I'm going to sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be nicer. We'll see.
Interesting happening of the week: Snitch columnist Rick Collett came by yesterday. He's so cool. Check out his column on the Snitch site sometime.
You can always tell the end of a Kentucky summer. The tobacco trailers roll out, plants freshly gathered stacked two, three feet high on the flatbed, a few kids or immigrants in the pickup bed. The kids go back to school, the county fairs end and the state fair promos kick off. The nights get chilly — into the 60s.
Speaking of chilly ... It was in the low 70s today and I was a little cool. I've gotten so used to the 90+ temperatures that going back to Boston is going to be hell.
And speaking of Boston ... I guess part of me is really excited to go back — I have a great schedule and a great room, and I have a couple (Adam! Mikes! Dan! Joy!) friends I really want to hang out with. However, at home I'm making bank and I'm totally in love with this guy who lives in my room. It's a good life. Stressful, but good.
Stressful? Oh, yes, it is. I'm working on this 12-page insert for the Balloon Festival to go in the C-J . It's due Monday. I worked 11 hours today: 8-1 at AM, 1:30-4 at Snitch and 4:30-7 at AM again. Plus, I have more corrections for the insert to do, and work on the new Snitch Web site. At least at the moment I don't have to physically go to work any time this weekend.
Ah, the Snitch Web site ... Dug, the managing editor, confirmed the company is buying me a Dreamweaver upgrade, so it looks like I'm doing the site from school for sure. I'm excited about it. It's one less thing to worry about (finding a job, that is), and it's something I enjoy doing. Plus, I get to say I'm the Web editor for the Snitch Newsweekly franchise — currently consisting of Louisville, Lexington, Northern Kentucky, South Carolina and San Diego editions. I'll be in charge of online content for Louisville, Lexington, Northern Kentucky and South Carolina. And we're constantly pursuing investors interested in setting up an edition, so there's no telling how many I could be running.
I'm going to leave with a poem ... An older poem, but a poem nonetheless. (From July 7)
I'm
grin-like-a-fool, twirl-my-hair, scribble-hearts-with-your-name-inside
in love with you
Here I am, trying to stay focused and get some web stuff done for snitch, but I can't keep my brain focused. The things I'm pondering:
I think that's it. And writing it might've helped, but I doubt it. We'll see.
Hold the presses. Yeah, I'm back, 10 minutes later. Jessica Alba is going to be the invisible girl in the new Fantastic Four movie! I had no idea, but I'm really excited. She said she tried on the costume and it's spandex and really tight and ... hooray. 'Bout time the girl did a decent movie, because I couldn't bring myself to watch Honey.
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*Haha, suckers! Sadly, everything except for the transfer part is true, tho'. | |
