What is it like to run into someone you used to do a lot of blow with?
For one, it's likely you never really knew what one another looked like beneath the glaring orange of mid-day. You are laden with work and responsibility and you seem tired. Without that white lady's soft brilliant veil, you look like a snapshot thats focus has turned too sharp; your edges hard and defined.
Then there is the embarrassment. You feel childish for thinking the two of you were all glamour with your amex and rolled up twenties and your rent dreams sprawled like pick-up-sticks over a studio apartment coffee table.
All of this is rushing through you while you stumble over side-walk small-talk and search for an exit line.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
mid-term malaise and the rat race
You probably haven't heard me bitch enough as of late. Am I right?
Fret no more. I will pack this post with enough complaints to satiate you for at least a couple days!
Thursdays are shitty. This is largely due to the fact that I have to get up extraordinarily early and battle THE COMMUTE. This means, every Chicagoan with a 9-5 and myself pack and wedge into stuffy busses and trains like over-cafeinated rats. Talk about negative energy....zillions of city folk simultaneously headed to a place they really can't stand. Brilliant way to start the day.
Plus, the boyfriend doesn't have to be up early on Thursdays. Thus, I have to leave him looking all snuggily and generally content in my bed...a place I dislike leaving in general (even if it's sans a super cuddly person).
Then, when I arrive at the office (which is inevitably empty, because apparently being on salary means the actual hours you put in are superfluous) I find that my boss is out of town again and has left me minimal to no instruction (for some reason this is a consistent theme on Thursdays). Thus, I end up writing totally bogus pieces for the corporate blog (which far too many people read for me to be writing such non-sense on) all afternoon.
In other news, mid-terms are kicking my ass and I'm sick of professors expecting more out of me than they do out of 95% of the class (really, two of them actually told me this).
Fret no more. I will pack this post with enough complaints to satiate you for at least a couple days!
Thursdays are shitty. This is largely due to the fact that I have to get up extraordinarily early and battle THE COMMUTE. This means, every Chicagoan with a 9-5 and myself pack and wedge into stuffy busses and trains like over-cafeinated rats. Talk about negative energy....zillions of city folk simultaneously headed to a place they really can't stand. Brilliant way to start the day.
Plus, the boyfriend doesn't have to be up early on Thursdays. Thus, I have to leave him looking all snuggily and generally content in my bed...a place I dislike leaving in general (even if it's sans a super cuddly person).
Then, when I arrive at the office (which is inevitably empty, because apparently being on salary means the actual hours you put in are superfluous) I find that my boss is out of town again and has left me minimal to no instruction (for some reason this is a consistent theme on Thursdays). Thus, I end up writing totally bogus pieces for the corporate blog (which far too many people read for me to be writing such non-sense on) all afternoon.
In other news, mid-terms are kicking my ass and I'm sick of professors expecting more out of me than they do out of 95% of the class (really, two of them actually told me this).
Monday, October 15, 2007
really, it's not that impressive
This blog solely exists because one night (tonight) I felt particularly pathetic and thought it might be cathartic (probably not) to purge over the internet.
What's the problem? No motivation. I mean NONE.
Why? No direction.
I keep thinking over last year. I knew exactly where I was going and was taking every feasible measure to get there. I'm perpetually turning that person over in my mind--she was great, wasn't she?
No. I don't think so. I think her priorities were skewed. VERY skewed. In any event, I admire her tenacity. I liken it to a drug...if I could only get a little bit of that!
My job. My job is making me good money. This is funny, considering nobody actually allows me to fulfill my hired purpose there. I don't like that.
School. School is kicking my ass. Most likely because, now that I'm in the working world as well, I realize PR probably isn't what I want to do with the rest of my life. Thus, spending 12 out of my 16 hours of school in PR classes seems pointless.
What do I want to do? Hmm. Well, I keep thinking about getting a masters in journalism. A PR and Journalism background is dy-na-mite. I have a couple freelance writing gigs--this is a start, yes?
No no no. What do I really want to do? Own a bookstore. Get a few rejection letters from The New Yorker.
I blame my father's side of the family for this crisis (not really..ok, really). They taught me how to work work work at absolutely EVERYTHING until I was blue in the face. Then, they'd tell me I looked GOOD with a BLUE FACE.
That's a fucking lie. No one looks good with a blue face. They just look like an asshole. And if they're a really BIG asshole, they look like that Violet girl from Willy Wonka who ate the gum she wasn't supposed to eat and morphed into a giant fucking blueberry.
How long was I walking around looking like a giant fucking blueberry?!?!? And what were my friends doing during all of this? Don't you think a person has an obligation to tell someone if they look like a giant fucking blueberry?? Don't you!?!?
What's the problem? No motivation. I mean NONE.
Why? No direction.
I keep thinking over last year. I knew exactly where I was going and was taking every feasible measure to get there. I'm perpetually turning that person over in my mind--she was great, wasn't she?
No. I don't think so. I think her priorities were skewed. VERY skewed. In any event, I admire her tenacity. I liken it to a drug...if I could only get a little bit of that!
My job. My job is making me good money. This is funny, considering nobody actually allows me to fulfill my hired purpose there. I don't like that.
School. School is kicking my ass. Most likely because, now that I'm in the working world as well, I realize PR probably isn't what I want to do with the rest of my life. Thus, spending 12 out of my 16 hours of school in PR classes seems pointless.
What do I want to do? Hmm. Well, I keep thinking about getting a masters in journalism. A PR and Journalism background is dy-na-mite. I have a couple freelance writing gigs--this is a start, yes?
No no no. What do I really want to do? Own a bookstore. Get a few rejection letters from The New Yorker.
I blame my father's side of the family for this crisis (not really..ok, really). They taught me how to work work work at absolutely EVERYTHING until I was blue in the face. Then, they'd tell me I looked GOOD with a BLUE FACE.
That's a fucking lie. No one looks good with a blue face. They just look like an asshole. And if they're a really BIG asshole, they look like that Violet girl from Willy Wonka who ate the gum she wasn't supposed to eat and morphed into a giant fucking blueberry.
How long was I walking around looking like a giant fucking blueberry?!?!? And what were my friends doing during all of this? Don't you think a person has an obligation to tell someone if they look like a giant fucking blueberry?? Don't you!?!?
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