Things are going much much better.
While I am just as busy as I was before (and very probably, busier), I am in a much better place both mentally and emotionally. I think it must have something with the fact that I am getting a tan. FINALLY. I can't wait to look all nice and bronzed. It will be FABULOUS.
Other than that, nothing really new has happened. I am just trying to muddle through the day-to-day without punching someone in the sternum. Actually, it is kind of funny I still harbor the urge to do that even though I am feeling much much better than I was a couple of weeks ago. I will disregard it as my tried and true ability to sense and hone in on other people's bullshit. A note from the writer to the readers: this "ability" is no superpower. In fact, it could quite possibly be one of the most ludicrous curses moonlighting as a blessing.
That being said, I am still quite annoyed with some people. Granted, this will never change. People will always seem rude and pretentious to me in many capacities. As I am working closely with some of these goons, it is fairly certain for me to say that my appreciation for those people who choose to think before they open wide their yaps (or even those who choose to keep said yaps closed) has reached an all-time apex. To those think-before-speaking speakers, I commend you. Your ability to carefully pick and choose your words to fit a situation is more than admirable. I do not care (at the moment, at least) if it makes you seem calculating or diplomatic. Let's face it, diplomacy is tyranny with a smile and a pretty word. You guys are rad. (well-said, Megan, goodness gracious)
I realize now that I must seem as if I do not care for other people at all.
Oh, but I do. I do care greatly for other people. I care for opinions and wants and needs, ambition or lack thereof, promiscuity and innocence, intelligence or simplicity. I care about the wide range of emotions people can experience within a split second. The capacity for human potential for...well, anything, really, is absolutely stellar. If there is a purpose to life, it is to reach without of our bounds and grab a hold of something new and strange and impossible. It is within us to experience and live and love. It is within us to prove one another wrong in many ways.
Readers, I appreciate humanity. I appreciate people in many different ways.
However, I will be damned if someone thinks I will tolerate absurdity and blatant idiocy. Despite insurmountable evidence to the contrary, I refuse to believe that many people I encounter are here simply to make the rest of us seem smarter. There are just far too many people willing to submit to mediocrity or being average simply because they can. Your capacity for excellence is unbelievable. Live up to it. You can't save the world by being pretty, so just own up to your intelligence.
...Rant done.
Over and out.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Read like a butterfly, write like a bee.
I can finally say that I have finished His Dark Materials.
My goodness, what a spectacular series. Honestly, I can't find any more to say about it.
I am disappointed in myself. When I was younger, one of the most notable things I did was read. I read constantly, and I was a fast reader. Like other things, reading was something that came naturally to me. If it wasn't for school, then I was reading for pleasure or curiosity. I love my books. I love being able to hold them, smell the crinkled, old pages and feel the texture of the paper under my fingers.
There is something almost magical about being able to hold a story in your hand and let it unfold in your imagination. When your mind syncs with the author's, it is as if two worlds are combining, and everything about the joining makes perfect sense, despite irregularities. Maybe you imagined this character to have raven-colored hair, but they instead have a deep gold. Maybe this man falls in love with this woman instead of that woman, and his best friend is actually his enemy. Or, possibly, the shop the main character's parents own does not sell organic groceries but electronics.
But that is the magic of imagination and reading. The magic is in that you can have an idea and you can explore it without the original idea overshadowing it. Simple details like height and weight and the color of the protagonist's shoes (although possibly critical in the plot), are yours to imagine and bend.
This freedom, this capability is one of the reasons why I enjoy writing fiction every once in a while. I have never published any of my stories, nor have I ever really finished one (oops...), and it is a very rare occasion when I let someone read it. Which, you might say, seems very strange since I love that people can read stories that are not, essentially, true. But that's just it. I love the idea that someone CAN read a story of mine, not necessarily that they WILL.
I recently started thinking that I might actually begin to post some fiction work online. That being said, the idea makes me a bit nervous. I do not get nervous over the thought of people reading my articles for the Maroon Weekly. I think what scares me is that people might judge or criticize (harshly) my imagination and the experiences I go through to inspire me to write fiction.
Eh, I suppose I will never know until I try.
It is also very likely that I need to FINISH a story before I post it on the internet...
My goodness, what a spectacular series. Honestly, I can't find any more to say about it.
I am disappointed in myself. When I was younger, one of the most notable things I did was read. I read constantly, and I was a fast reader. Like other things, reading was something that came naturally to me. If it wasn't for school, then I was reading for pleasure or curiosity. I love my books. I love being able to hold them, smell the crinkled, old pages and feel the texture of the paper under my fingers.
There is something almost magical about being able to hold a story in your hand and let it unfold in your imagination. When your mind syncs with the author's, it is as if two worlds are combining, and everything about the joining makes perfect sense, despite irregularities. Maybe you imagined this character to have raven-colored hair, but they instead have a deep gold. Maybe this man falls in love with this woman instead of that woman, and his best friend is actually his enemy. Or, possibly, the shop the main character's parents own does not sell organic groceries but electronics.
But that is the magic of imagination and reading. The magic is in that you can have an idea and you can explore it without the original idea overshadowing it. Simple details like height and weight and the color of the protagonist's shoes (although possibly critical in the plot), are yours to imagine and bend.
This freedom, this capability is one of the reasons why I enjoy writing fiction every once in a while. I have never published any of my stories, nor have I ever really finished one (oops...), and it is a very rare occasion when I let someone read it. Which, you might say, seems very strange since I love that people can read stories that are not, essentially, true. But that's just it. I love the idea that someone CAN read a story of mine, not necessarily that they WILL.
I recently started thinking that I might actually begin to post some fiction work online. That being said, the idea makes me a bit nervous. I do not get nervous over the thought of people reading my articles for the Maroon Weekly. I think what scares me is that people might judge or criticize (harshly) my imagination and the experiences I go through to inspire me to write fiction.
Eh, I suppose I will never know until I try.
It is also very likely that I need to FINISH a story before I post it on the internet...
Thursday, April 14, 2011
The 22 Blues.
Thankfully, things have gotten better since last week.
I talked to my professor about my group members and he/she gave me some pretty good advice. So I chatted with my group members, and I am fairly certain we are all on the same page. We gave a presentation for our project, and got a really damn good grade.
On top of that, another project I had/have is looking really spectacular. My partner and I got this awesome opportunity. I'm not really at liberty to share all of the juicy, wonderful details, but I will definitely make a post about it after the semester is over. However, for the sake of curiosity, I will give you a big hint as to what I am referring to...
On another note, yesterday was my birthday. The only really great thing about it was my parking spot for school, at least until my roommate bought me a good bottle of wine (courtesy of her new 21-ness), and we watched a couple of animated movies. I suspect that the next few days will be a ton better than yesterday, considering that a weekend celebration is a lot easier than a weekday celebration. Mom, Dad and brother dearest are coming in on Saturday to spend some time together and then go to a nicer dinner later in the evening.
I don't know what it was about yesterday that put me in that weird mood. For some reason, I was just...off the whole day. No witty banter, no sarcastic remarks, fake smiles and whatnot. It was very unme. I'm usually the one who can smile at pretty much anything. Anyway, it doesn't matter now; I am in a better mood.
I talked to my professor about my group members and he/she gave me some pretty good advice. So I chatted with my group members, and I am fairly certain we are all on the same page. We gave a presentation for our project, and got a really damn good grade.
On top of that, another project I had/have is looking really spectacular. My partner and I got this awesome opportunity. I'm not really at liberty to share all of the juicy, wonderful details, but I will definitely make a post about it after the semester is over. However, for the sake of curiosity, I will give you a big hint as to what I am referring to...
On another note, yesterday was my birthday. The only really great thing about it was my parking spot for school, at least until my roommate bought me a good bottle of wine (courtesy of her new 21-ness), and we watched a couple of animated movies. I suspect that the next few days will be a ton better than yesterday, considering that a weekend celebration is a lot easier than a weekday celebration. Mom, Dad and brother dearest are coming in on Saturday to spend some time together and then go to a nicer dinner later in the evening.
I don't know what it was about yesterday that put me in that weird mood. For some reason, I was just...off the whole day. No witty banter, no sarcastic remarks, fake smiles and whatnot. It was very unme. I'm usually the one who can smile at pretty much anything. Anyway, it doesn't matter now; I am in a better mood.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Last night, I cried.
Upsetting me is quite a difficult thing to do. It requires a lot of stress, lack of control and tribulation to cause me to become so frazzled that I cry.
Yesterday...last night... I cried.
My 22nd birthday is this coming Wednesday. On that day, it will be exactly one month until I graduate from Texas A&M University. With full sincerity, the notion that in only a few weeks I will be walking across that stage to receive my diploma is absolutely terrifying. Don't misunderstand me, I WANT to graduate. I want to be a part of the "real world," so to speak. I want to start this internship with the magazine, and I want to start making more than five cents a word or minimum wage. It is all about the time between now and then that makes me so nervous that I have to cry.
Let me lay out the whole situation for you.
This semester, I have deemed myself fully capable to take on 18 hours of classes. I am taking one 100-level course, three 300-level courses and two 400-level courses. All in all, that adds up to six classes. To say the least, I have been stretched thin to the point that I worry about becoming a serial killer.
Things are piling on top of other things, and I just cannot seem to grab onto my own schedule and control it. I have to move things around constantly, and the search for work and another internship is just another little slice of stress pie that I have to deal with.
I am not unhappy. I am stressed.
Really, I wonder if I know how to deal with stress in an effective way. Quite frankly, I don't think I do. When I get stressed, I eat. I try to sleep more to compensate for all of the time I spend worrying or just...thinking.
That is another thing. When I become stressed to the point that it affects my attitude every day, I think a lot. I think about what I can do to make the situation better. I think about how I got myself into whatever situation I happen to be coping with. I think about who I can talk to to get help with said situation. I think about more than all that.
My mind is rarely a quiet place to be. But when I am stressed, the sound in my head is something akin to standing behind a jet engine with an earhorn, so the noise is louder than usual. Amplify the engine a few times, and you have what goes on in my noggin.
Anyway, it really goes without saying that I have a lot happening in my life right now. I just need to sort through some things, take a break to breathe and then go at it like I am racing through an obstacle course. It's a damn good thing I tend to work best when I am under pressure.
(A note to readers: This post was meant to be published on Friday, but I forgot. Oops.)
Yesterday...last night... I cried.
My 22nd birthday is this coming Wednesday. On that day, it will be exactly one month until I graduate from Texas A&M University. With full sincerity, the notion that in only a few weeks I will be walking across that stage to receive my diploma is absolutely terrifying. Don't misunderstand me, I WANT to graduate. I want to be a part of the "real world," so to speak. I want to start this internship with the magazine, and I want to start making more than five cents a word or minimum wage. It is all about the time between now and then that makes me so nervous that I have to cry.
Let me lay out the whole situation for you.
This semester, I have deemed myself fully capable to take on 18 hours of classes. I am taking one 100-level course, three 300-level courses and two 400-level courses. All in all, that adds up to six classes. To say the least, I have been stretched thin to the point that I worry about becoming a serial killer.
Things are piling on top of other things, and I just cannot seem to grab onto my own schedule and control it. I have to move things around constantly, and the search for work and another internship is just another little slice of stress pie that I have to deal with.
I am not unhappy. I am stressed.
Really, I wonder if I know how to deal with stress in an effective way. Quite frankly, I don't think I do. When I get stressed, I eat. I try to sleep more to compensate for all of the time I spend worrying or just...thinking.
That is another thing. When I become stressed to the point that it affects my attitude every day, I think a lot. I think about what I can do to make the situation better. I think about how I got myself into whatever situation I happen to be coping with. I think about who I can talk to to get help with said situation. I think about more than all that.
My mind is rarely a quiet place to be. But when I am stressed, the sound in my head is something akin to standing behind a jet engine with an earhorn, so the noise is louder than usual. Amplify the engine a few times, and you have what goes on in my noggin.
Anyway, it really goes without saying that I have a lot happening in my life right now. I just need to sort through some things, take a break to breathe and then go at it like I am racing through an obstacle course. It's a damn good thing I tend to work best when I am under pressure.
(A note to readers: This post was meant to be published on Friday, but I forgot. Oops.)
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Feeling barbaric lately.
Honestly, I really am. I know that most of the people who read this blog (yeah, all...8 of you) see what I post on Facebook or Twitter every day, but I legitimately believe I could be carrying a bone club around within the next week or so.
I don't really care if you want to know why. I will tell you regardless.
I am a student. I am in classes. I am in classes which apply practical experience from the "real world" to assignments I have to complete in the... "not real world."
One of these classes has us do a group project in which the members of our group are selected at random (supposedly, but I have my doubts). This is where the barbarianism comes in to butt heads with my usually civil attitude.
My partners are dopes.
Now, I can understand...nay, sympathize with someone being not as independent or strong-willed as I am, but there comes a time when a person should, can, etc. etc. step up and take some action. Honestly, I really do tire of being the leader in the group projects required of me in classes. While I will never exhaust my right to speak my mind, I like to sit back and let other people take the wheel on occasion. Despite what many of you might think, I am not always content with being in control. Life is about letting the theoretical wind theoretically take you to theoretical places theoretically independently of your own theoretical will. Or something like that.
Neither of my group members will do anything close to lead the team. The thing that gets me the most is that I am fairly certain that my professor specifically put me in this group because he/she knew I would not let other people's inaction affect my grade. That being said...
I am annoyed.
We met to go over some of the specs of our assignment, and my partners sat there and agreed with every little detail that I said. I will never go so far as to say that I am always, eternally, positively, absolutely 100% correct. So I am disappointed and frazzled that every single thing I said was exactly what they were thinking. Please, gain your own voice and stop trying to use mine.
Obviously, there is really nothing I can do about it, but I will talk to my professor and ask to know exactly why I was grouped together with these people. I am honestly hoping that he/she will go on to tell me how amazing I am at what I do, that I am a natural born leader, that it is obvious that I can keep these classmates from getting shitty grades. It tempts me to think that I was placed in this group because I skipped class that one time to tan by the pool at my apartment.
Jerk.
I don't really care if you want to know why. I will tell you regardless.
I am a student. I am in classes. I am in classes which apply practical experience from the "real world" to assignments I have to complete in the... "not real world."
One of these classes has us do a group project in which the members of our group are selected at random (supposedly, but I have my doubts). This is where the barbarianism comes in to butt heads with my usually civil attitude.
My partners are dopes.
Now, I can understand...nay, sympathize with someone being not as independent or strong-willed as I am, but there comes a time when a person should, can, etc. etc. step up and take some action. Honestly, I really do tire of being the leader in the group projects required of me in classes. While I will never exhaust my right to speak my mind, I like to sit back and let other people take the wheel on occasion. Despite what many of you might think, I am not always content with being in control. Life is about letting the theoretical wind theoretically take you to theoretical places theoretically independently of your own theoretical will. Or something like that.
Neither of my group members will do anything close to lead the team. The thing that gets me the most is that I am fairly certain that my professor specifically put me in this group because he/she knew I would not let other people's inaction affect my grade. That being said...
I am annoyed.
We met to go over some of the specs of our assignment, and my partners sat there and agreed with every little detail that I said. I will never go so far as to say that I am always, eternally, positively, absolutely 100% correct. So I am disappointed and frazzled that every single thing I said was exactly what they were thinking. Please, gain your own voice and stop trying to use mine.
Obviously, there is really nothing I can do about it, but I will talk to my professor and ask to know exactly why I was grouped together with these people. I am honestly hoping that he/she will go on to tell me how amazing I am at what I do, that I am a natural born leader, that it is obvious that I can keep these classmates from getting shitty grades. It tempts me to think that I was placed in this group because I skipped class that one time to tan by the pool at my apartment.
Jerk.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Beer, Boobs and Best Friends
I went to Austin this weekend. (read: I had a blast with my best friend this weekend in Austin)
I'm in a radio class this semester, and we get the opportunities to tour a few radio stations in different markets around Texas. We had a tour scheduled for Friday in Austin at Emmis radio (home of 101X, BobFM and KLBJ), and I also had a friend who needed a ride to Austin for the weekend. Enter: Courtney Bishop; best friend, twinkie and all-around greatest person in the world.
Courtney and I met in freshman year at Texas A&M University at Galveston. We were in the same beginner's yoga class. We bonded immediately, probably because I saw parts of her that not many people have seen.
I fell in friendlove with her passion for life and her carefree, don't-give-a-shit attitude. She is my idol and hero, and I would be in no place enjoyable without her in my life.
That being said, I would do anything for her. This includes driving from College Station to Galveston and then from Galveston back on up to Austin....Twice. That is a lot of driving. A LOT.
Math, people, I'm going to do math. From College Station to Galveston is a two and a half hour drive. Galveston to Austin is another four hours, and then I made both trips once again today, to drop Courtney off in Galveston and then to come back to College Station. Cumulatively, I have driven around 13 hours (give or take an hour or so for travel within Austin), and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Friday's tour at Emmis radio went well. I am sad to say that I was not on my best sarcasm trip because I had only gotten around four hours of sleep the night before, but that is perfectly okay with me. The station was a good learning experience. It is a very different thing to have bits and pieces of information fed to you by a professor, then to have the same information presented to you in live format. It was difficult for me to grasp different aspects of a radio production project, but Emmis was a great place to learn. We met with program directors, a couple of on-air personalities for 101X (Jason and Deb from the morning show, one: British, both: hilarious), plus promotions staff for the station. Needless to say, I enjoyed myself and was very thrilled to leave the station with a free t-shirt, a couple of coozies and a business card that labeled the owner a "chronic masturbator." I. Am. Amused.
The remainder of the day was spent lounging around Courtney's house in Round Rock. We played with her cat, Diesel, then went to the grocery store with her mom to pick up a few things for dinner and a couple of movies. The rest of the evening comprised cooking salmon with a jalapeno dip, baked rice with zucchini and squash, and a spinach salad for dinner. We watched Megamind and Inception, then enjoyed some homemade rice krispie treats with a dark chocolate-caramel drizzle. I'm fairly certain I ate three within a matter of minutes.
After a baby shower on Saturday, Courtney and I jetted off to downtown Austin. The two of us walked around for a solid two and a half hours. We tried on clothes we couldn't afford, people-watched, walked up to the capitol building and stole a couple of beautiful roses from a yard before heading out for some dinner. For those of you who enjoy a good beer and a burger to match, please check out Dirty Martin's.
"In 1926 John Martin opened a little restaurant named Martin's Kum-Bak which served hamburgers, shakes and other popular items of the time. It was a small place with a dirt floor along with just eight bar stools inside and a small drive through. Up until the 1940s and 1950s the majority of Martin's business was done in the parking lot with car hops. Through those early years, the dirt floor was responsible for Martin's Kum-Bak eventually being nicknamed "Dirty's" or "Dirty Martin's". Though a concrete floor was added in 1951, the unofficial name of "Dirty's" stuck with the patrons and, years later, was adopted by Martin's. The original Martin's was neighbored by a local gas station until 1957 and sometime after, a bar named The Friendly Tavern. But in the mid 1960s the walls between the two were knocked down and the two buildings were joined to create a back dining area for the restaurant giving more indoor space to patrons. This same building has been providing a comfortable, friendly atmosphere to our loyal customers to this day." (http://www.dirtymartins.com/1/Home.htm)
Holy crap, did we have some fun. We both got a D.H. special and shared a basket of homemade fries, then proceeded to split two pitchers of Austin Amber. Thank goodness for happy hour. Those pitchers were only six bucks a piece! Then, thanks to me being all friendly and whatnot, the waitress gave us another pitcher for free. FOR. FREE. We sat around the restaurant for a few hours, occasionally chatting with some of the other patrons or a waiter/waitress. We witnessed a kid throw up twice because his father let him eat a huge bowl of chili and then had two malts, and I flirted heavily with the British waiter/manager named Morgan. All of this fun was topped off by the fact that we got a handful of flowers from some arbitrary guy sitting down with some of his buddies. I don't think this night could have gone much better. We rode back to Round Rock, singing "Pachuca Sunset" and "Nine in the Afternoon," ate a couple more rice krispie treats, then passed out on Courtney's bed around 1:30am.
If I don't end up living in Austin, I will be sorely disappointed.
I'm in a radio class this semester, and we get the opportunities to tour a few radio stations in different markets around Texas. We had a tour scheduled for Friday in Austin at Emmis radio (home of 101X, BobFM and KLBJ), and I also had a friend who needed a ride to Austin for the weekend. Enter: Courtney Bishop; best friend, twinkie and all-around greatest person in the world.
Courtney and I met in freshman year at Texas A&M University at Galveston. We were in the same beginner's yoga class. We bonded immediately, probably because I saw parts of her that not many people have seen.
I fell in friendlove with her passion for life and her carefree, don't-give-a-shit attitude. She is my idol and hero, and I would be in no place enjoyable without her in my life.
That being said, I would do anything for her. This includes driving from College Station to Galveston and then from Galveston back on up to Austin....Twice. That is a lot of driving. A LOT.
Math, people, I'm going to do math. From College Station to Galveston is a two and a half hour drive. Galveston to Austin is another four hours, and then I made both trips once again today, to drop Courtney off in Galveston and then to come back to College Station. Cumulatively, I have driven around 13 hours (give or take an hour or so for travel within Austin), and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Friday's tour at Emmis radio went well. I am sad to say that I was not on my best sarcasm trip because I had only gotten around four hours of sleep the night before, but that is perfectly okay with me. The station was a good learning experience. It is a very different thing to have bits and pieces of information fed to you by a professor, then to have the same information presented to you in live format. It was difficult for me to grasp different aspects of a radio production project, but Emmis was a great place to learn. We met with program directors, a couple of on-air personalities for 101X (Jason and Deb from the morning show, one: British, both: hilarious), plus promotions staff for the station. Needless to say, I enjoyed myself and was very thrilled to leave the station with a free t-shirt, a couple of coozies and a business card that labeled the owner a "chronic masturbator." I. Am. Amused.
The remainder of the day was spent lounging around Courtney's house in Round Rock. We played with her cat, Diesel, then went to the grocery store with her mom to pick up a few things for dinner and a couple of movies. The rest of the evening comprised cooking salmon with a jalapeno dip, baked rice with zucchini and squash, and a spinach salad for dinner. We watched Megamind and Inception, then enjoyed some homemade rice krispie treats with a dark chocolate-caramel drizzle. I'm fairly certain I ate three within a matter of minutes.
After a baby shower on Saturday, Courtney and I jetted off to downtown Austin. The two of us walked around for a solid two and a half hours. We tried on clothes we couldn't afford, people-watched, walked up to the capitol building and stole a couple of beautiful roses from a yard before heading out for some dinner. For those of you who enjoy a good beer and a burger to match, please check out Dirty Martin's.
"In 1926 John Martin opened a little restaurant named Martin's Kum-Bak which served hamburgers, shakes and other popular items of the time. It was a small place with a dirt floor along with just eight bar stools inside and a small drive through. Up until the 1940s and 1950s the majority of Martin's business was done in the parking lot with car hops. Through those early years, the dirt floor was responsible for Martin's Kum-Bak eventually being nicknamed "Dirty's" or "Dirty Martin's". Though a concrete floor was added in 1951, the unofficial name of "Dirty's" stuck with the patrons and, years later, was adopted by Martin's. The original Martin's was neighbored by a local gas station until 1957 and sometime after, a bar named The Friendly Tavern. But in the mid 1960s the walls between the two were knocked down and the two buildings were joined to create a back dining area for the restaurant giving more indoor space to patrons. This same building has been providing a comfortable, friendly atmosphere to our loyal customers to this day." (http://www.dirtymartins.com/1/Home.htm)Holy crap, did we have some fun. We both got a D.H. special and shared a basket of homemade fries, then proceeded to split two pitchers of Austin Amber. Thank goodness for happy hour. Those pitchers were only six bucks a piece! Then, thanks to me being all friendly and whatnot, the waitress gave us another pitcher for free. FOR. FREE. We sat around the restaurant for a few hours, occasionally chatting with some of the other patrons or a waiter/waitress. We witnessed a kid throw up twice because his father let him eat a huge bowl of chili and then had two malts, and I flirted heavily with the British waiter/manager named Morgan. All of this fun was topped off by the fact that we got a handful of flowers from some arbitrary guy sitting down with some of his buddies. I don't think this night could have gone much better. We rode back to Round Rock, singing "Pachuca Sunset" and "Nine in the Afternoon," ate a couple more rice krispie treats, then passed out on Courtney's bed around 1:30am.
If I don't end up living in Austin, I will be sorely disappointed.
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