World of Magenta

Oh Mr. Keats...

2007-02-19T10:22:00.000-05:00

when i have fears that i may cease to be
before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
before high piled books, in charact’ry,
hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain;
when i behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,
huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
and think that i may never live to trace
their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
and when i feel, fair creature of an hour!
that i shall never look upon thee more,
never have relish in the faery power
of unreflecting love!—then on the shore
of the wide world i stand alone, and think
till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.

Three Years, Two Lives

2007-02-17T23:54:00.000-05:00

Well. It's over.

The disappearance, the discovery, the denial, and the funeral, are all over.

It's a big, long, terrifying road that I'm being steered towards, but I know I'm not the only one. I'm not ready to be at this point in my life, this point being the time when I start going to funerals for those I know and love; this point being the time when I start having regrets that I'm not sure I'll ever get over; this point being the time when I start feeling helpless, because nothing I can do can take the pain away from those who survive it, just like they can't take the pain away from me.

I don't know how long it will take for me to get past this; it took several months for Sova, and I hadn't known him for too long. And those were different circumstances.

For this...I don't know. I've never before been torn in so many directions. I've seen grieving parents, friends, and I've seen faces written with regret, mirroring mine. There's always that, "What if?" as one woman said at the funeral. There is no "What if," it's just a false hope. I've replayed in my mind what I would do if, by some miracle, I woke up and it was one week ago. I would wake up and I would go to him, and I would tell him everything he didn't know about his life and those that love him...just a false hope.

I realized that I never really appreciated him, that whenever he would give me help I would just accept it, never actually realizing that he would need mine in return; I didn't know what I could help him with.

I wasn't quite as ready to write this as I thought. But, if it's any consolation, it's over now - everything but his memory.

Anna Nicole Smith Obit

2007-02-08T18:39:00.000-05:00

One year ago, I had to write an obituary for Anna Nicole Smith (she was, obviously, still living). I pasted what I had here, along with, again obviously, the true circumstances of her death.

Anna Nicole Smith, actress and former Playmate of the Year, died Thursday after being discovered unconscious in her hotel room in South Florida. She was 39.

Smith, born Vickie Lynn Hogan, made headlines recently due to her marriage to a very senior citizen, a bitter court battle, some significant weight gain, and proof that she isn't the brightest woman to grace the E! channel.

In her early 20s, Smith worked as an exotic dancer where she met wheelchair-bound, oil tycoon billionaire J. Howard Marshall, who reportedly paid for a cosmetic surgery to enhance her breasts (she insisted on having two implants inserted into each breast).

Smith was first on the cover of Playboy in 1992, earning her a contract to replace supermodel Claudia Schiffer in a Guess? jeans ad campaign. Tall, full-figured and blonde, Smith’s idol was Marilyn Monroe. Smith reached her peak when she was crowned 1993’s Playmate of the Year and became a Guess? Model.

But after a controversial marriage to 89-year-old Marshall in 1994 (she was 26), Smith developed a propensity for pills and alcohol and became the topic of choice for late-night hosts’ jokes. By several accounts, Smith had numerous relationships on the side during the marriage, including bodybuilder Clay Spires, actors Scott Baio and Rikki Lee Travolta.

But Smith also had suppossedly had relations with women, including Maria Antonia Cerrato who Smith allegedly proposed to on several occassions. Her most recent relationship was with Howard K. Stern, who claims to be the father of her 5-month-old daughter, Dannielynn Hope.

After Marshall’s death in August 1995, Smith took on his son, E. Pierce Marshall, for half of her deceased husband’s $1.6 billion estate. Even though Marshall’s trust and will were updated weeks after their marriage, he did not include her in either. The case actually lasted longer than their marriage, with one judge awarding Smith $475 million, another awarding $88.5 million.

Smith’s career stalled during the 90s, with her acting in “The Hudsucker Proxy” and “Naked Gun 33 1/3” earning her a relegation to low-budget soft-core porn movies such as “Skyscraper.”

In 2002, the E! cable television channel gave Smith her own show that focused on her personal and private life. While the show’s debut was the highest rating show on the network, ratings progressively dropped with each passing episode. Critics blasted it, some saying it was so bad it deserved pity. Before the second season, producers of the show demanded that Smith drop some weight before shooting began, and with the help of TrimSpa, a supplement that claims to block fat from entering the body, Smith trimmed 80 pounds off and became a spokeswoman for the supplement. Smith, however, no longer has a TV audience: the show was canceled in February 2004 due to “creative differences.”

In November 2004, Smith was a presenter at the American Music Awards, her cryptic, murmured comments about her body and TrimSpa earning her attention in the tabloids, who speculated she was under the influence of pills or another substance. Smith’s representatives said she was in pain due to a series of grueling workouts and couldn’t read the prompter well because she is near-sighted and wasn’t wearing contact lenses.

Also, in March 2005, Smith spoofed Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction at the MTV Australia Video Music Awards when she pulled down her dress to reveal both breasts, each covered with the MTV logo.

While some have characterized Smith as irresponsible, senseless, gold-digging, and stupid, among other things, she gained a following, one that constantly found her in the spotlight and one that will treasure the life she lived, no matter how strange or absurd it was.

The 'B' Word

2007-01-08T21:25:00.000-05:00

When I was six, the biggest problem I had was making sure I won at the games my friends and I played during recess. I just had to be Princess Jasmine during our favorite role playing games where we mimicked our favorite Disney movie. And I absolutely had to win at our "cussing battles," where we tested each other, seeing which one would go the farthest and say the worst words.

The 'B' word was harsh, one I wasn't too afraid to use (quietly), and even more bold was completing the phrase by adding 'son of a' in front of it. When I got caught, I blamed it on television (partially true), and my mother didn't let me watch "90210" anymore.

Children today have it much rougher than when I did (and I'm not that old). I would be surprised if there weren't "cussing battles" or something similar among the six-year-olds today. What does surprise me is one new 'B' phrase they definitely have: Body Mass Index.

The New York Times printed an article today ("As Obesity Fight Hits Cafeteria, Many Fear a Note From School") focusing on several school districts across the nation that send Body Mass Index percentiles home to parents with their childrens' report cards. Schools began sending the reports ("in casual parlance, obesity report cards") to parents a few years ago in response to the 'Obesity War' plaguing America's children. Parents of students from Kindergarten to 8th grade receive the reports, and it will soon expand to high school students' parents.

There's only one 'B' word to describe what's going to happen next: Backlash.

Young girls are going to become so aware - or unaware, depending on how you look at it - of their Body Mass Index percentiles sent home to their parents several times a year that they're going to fall into what too many older women aren't even strong enough to handle. They're becoming what society, and now school, is telling them to be: perfect.

A six-year-old girl eats less than her two-year-old sibling. Her mother said she's "anxious" about eating after finding a letter with her report card that said she had a Body Mass Index in the 80th percentile (which means she's 'normal').

An eight-year-old girl eats carrot sticks and constantly weighs herself. Her mother said, "She walks out of the bathroom saying, 'I weigh 68 pounds, and none of you can say that.'"

Bulemia, another 'B' word, and Anorexia. Two words I didn't know until I was a teen that might end up killing America's children in 10 years. Maybe that's jumping the gun, maybe they don't know what those words are. But they don't need to know the name of it to suffer from it, and the fact that they're so self-aware at such a young age isn't helping to prove otherwise.

I was able to blame television shows for my 'B' word, and my mother took away my bad influence by turning off the television. Mothers today have it harder; they can't turn off school policies. And children today have it the worst: their education centers are their bad influences.

2006-12-15T22:55:00.000-05:00

"I'm one of those people who believes in fate and destiny, that everything in our lives happens for a reason. This Christmas was the last one I'll have here in Charlotte (hopefully) before I leave for the great college experience. I've been accepted to N.C. State (yes, Sam, the tractor college) and I'm clinging to that acceptance letter tighter than I am to my cell phone."

That's from January 2004, published in the Mecklenburg Neighbors section of the Charlotte Observer. Those were the days when I thought the next 10 years of my life were already planned out.

I had it all set: graduate in 4 years (maybe three) with a degree in Journalism or English, move to a big city and be an all-star journalist, live in a big city where I could sip lattes every morning, and get basically whatever I want (including a five-figure salary - and that's even idealistic).

I think I've outgrown believing in fate and destiny - you don't just sit back and wait to see what happens to you, you have to make things happen to you. I'm going to graduate with an English degree (not the best GPA) and at least five internships (including PR, newspaper, magazine and marketing), and I'll be lucky to land a good-paying job. It's just the field I chose.

I've been thinking a lot about the future lately, probably a little too much (or too little, however you look at it). My profession is up on the air - probably a good thing I've got varied experience. In terms of relationships...things change.

The boyfriend is good and solid, I don't have any worries about that as of now (we've never even had a real argument yet). It's the other ones. The friends who are graduating (and joining the Army, for example) a year before I graduate.

I don't know, growing up is sad. I miss the days when it was perfectly normal and okay for me to be idealistic, to make extreme plans and have extreme dreams (like going to Africa, for example). But that's the good thing about having good friends (and a good boyfriend) - they let you dream and make plans according to what makes me happy.

Life (even though it's crazy and too realistic) is good.

2006-12-13T23:56:00.000-05:00

It's not about me.

Maybe it's not, most likely it's not, but that doesn't mean I'm not effected. Since when is it okay? Since when does a good thing make a bad thing happen? Why is it good versus bad? Why can't it be what's best for everyone?

Because people change.

Since when does change equate to discontinuation?

since now.

2006-11-25T01:51:00.000-05:00

Why I feel the need to edit and write in my blog only when I'm at home, I don't know. But, that's the way it is.

It's been an interesting few days. I've already seen three movies ("Bobby," "Stranger Than Fiction," "Babel") and I've visited both sides of the family. My mom and I went to a Buddhist Temple and saw relics, and I've also played poker and rummi. :)

Right now I'm listening to Norah Jones and wishing I had at least a two-story house to climb out on the roof and watch the stars and listen to her for the rest of the night.

I thought I would have more to write about, but I just can't seem to concentrate right now. :) I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving, and I should update again soon.

The good life

2006-10-18T22:40:00.000-04:00

So it's been a few weeks since my last blog, and I don't really have anything to do right now other than watch "Memoirs of a Geisha" with Lucas and Kim and play on Jason's laptop while he does homework, so I figured I'd write a little bit.

I'm officially a senior staff writer now instead of news editor, and while I'm still getting used to it, I'm loving the free time. I've joined an intermural volleyball team with Jason and some of his friends, and while we lost our first match last week, it's still fun, which is kind of weird for me to say. Jason and his karate people are terrifying when they do their yelling and kicking stuff, by the way.

My parents came up to Raleigh last weekend to go to the state fair, a first for them. It was really fun and it was good to see them again (even though I just saw them the weekend before) and they were so cute of course.

My job at the law office is wonderful! Several weeks ago, my boss was sick and gave me her and her husband's tickets to the FSU football game, so Jason and I went and it was incredible! So it has perks. :) And I like the work, and the atmosphere. And I love that I get to dress up every work day.

I'm looking forward to Halloween on Hillsborough St., a first for me this year, but I haven't decided on a costume yet. My only real criteria is for me to wear gliter makeup, so, I might not even dress up and just wear glitter makeup. Not sure yet. :)

Okay, well that's all I've got for now. Everyone be well! :)

2006-09-25T22:22:00.000-04:00

Today was, simply put, crazy. And emotional. And disappointing.

I arrived in Astronomy, preparing to study for the test I thought I had Friday, and found out that the test was last Friday, the one of many classes I didn't go to. Serves me right, right?

After having a mild panic attack and sitting in class just staring at the board for 50 minutes wondering what the hell I was going to do - run like hell or face my professor - I realized I had only one option.

I put in my two weeks notice for my newspaper position.

This is a choice that I wish I didn't have to make. But I did. I'm not an editor - I like doing things myself, I don't plan ahead well, I'm not good at delegating anything.

But God how I love that job. It has tons of good days, tons of bad days, but in the end it's the family and seeing the work I and my writers have done that makes it one of the best jobs in the world.

But, I'm here for school. I can't forget that. I can't risk not graduating on time or at all because of my love for something that interferes.

I resigned. That's right, I am officially a quitter. I am officially one of the many things I never wanted to be. But that's who I am, and I have to deal with it.

And right now, dealing with it means making up all the work I've missed and getting back on track.

My love for the paper will still be there through it all and when I'm done. And maybe I can step back up when I'm ready.

Why bad things happen to good people

2006-09-24T22:49:00.000-04:00

Someone needs to explain this to me.

Two instances in the past week have just gotten me so frustrated about this and I can't come up with any explanation. I'm talking about two good, great people - both driven, both smart, both wonderful in every way that I've known them - who I guess just ran into some bad luck.

At this point, all I can think about are the "bad" people I've met and how they get away with the stupidest shit.

WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN?

/end rant

2006-09-01T01:53:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I lied.

I'm not really giving up. It was more of a, "I haven't updated forever and I don't want to ever again," fleeting moment type thing.

I guess what's finally motivated me to write is a combination of two things.

First, some stories I've covered for the newspaper. It's been straight up hell - it's tested not only my dedication to journalism but my ability to stifle personal feelings to bring out the professional in me. Which is hard.

Secondly, a thing with this guy. Not elaborating on that, but if you know me I've talked about it.

Something that I've been thinking about a lot lately is just relationships - the ones I have, the ones I used to have and the ones I want to have. And I think, right now, that everything is where it's supposed to be.

I've got a great boy (who bought me four-inch black stilletos and took me out to a great Italian place last week), great friends, great coworkers...pretty much everyone in my life right now is great. And that's...for lack of a better word, great.

One of my newly-acquired goals is to do more for the people in my life. As a journalist, I spend most of my time writing about other people, so when I finish work it's all about me. And I want that to change. I want to make the people in my life as happy as they've made me.

Of course, sometimes it will be about me. :) But much less time.

I like how I can say, "I love you" to everyone and mean it, and I want them to feel the same way.

I love them all.

2006-08-28T23:22:00.000-04:00

there's no point anymore - i'm finished.

2006-08-13T01:15:00.000-04:00

It's funny how easy it is to convince yourself to forget.

The beginning of school means many things to me - meeting up with old friends, new classes, new goals that I'll never meet and late nights having fun doing absolutely nothing. But for the second year now, the beginning of school means the reminder of Sova.

If you've been around me much, you know the story. If you don't, I'm sure you've heard one just like it.

Just three days into the semester, investigators said it appeared one of the cars was going too fast around a curve. The wreck occurred at 1:58 a.m. in the 2600 block of Avent Ferry Road, near the intersection of Chappell Drive. Two vehicles were involved, a 1994 Chevrolet Camaro and 1999 Honda CRV.

The Camaro was driven by Victor Rivera, 21, of Clayton, and was occupied by three passengers. Sova, who had been riding in the front passenger seat, was pronounced dead at the scene.

The Honda was driven by 22-year-old Michael Bryan Keadle.

Rivera was treated at WakeMed and released. Bradshaw and Chipa were in critical condition, Keadle in fair condition.

Thinking about him now is almost too real for me to handle. I wasn't best friends with him, I hardly knew him honestly, but what I did know of him meant something that I haven't found in anyone else.

I haven't really thought about him since last year. Sometimes his name will make its way into my head, but it's easy to push it out. It's just easier that way.

The last time I thought about him, the accident was under investigation. I was told that alcohol was a factor, and after hearing Sova say that he was going to a keg party that night, there were assumptions that he and his friends were at fault.

Tonight I found out that, in December, courts found Keadle guilty of involuntary manslaughter. Both drivers were drunk and driving, but he was the one that caused the accident.

It matters. It makes a big difference because I was angry that he wouldn't think to get in a car with a sober driver, and I saw how his death affected his friends. It was horrible, and I haven't thought about him because I didn't want to remember how someone like him could make a mistake.

In eight days he'll have been gone for two years. Sometimes it's just easier to forget.

2006-08-10T23:28:00.000-04:00

I just saw a preview for the DVD release of "Inside Man". Clive Owen...talk about orgasmic.

Anyway, I did a little bit of kitchen shopping today! I got at 16 piece set of plates (including four mugs and four bowls) and a 20 piece glassware set. I'm officially excited to move in and use them! Which will happen Monday. :)

I'm also excited about my retreat that begins next Friday. Heading to Manteo, baby! I'm looking forward to some fun times with my Technician family.

You should all wish my baby fishies luck in traveling to Raleigh! I'm down to about 9/10, at least that's how many come up for food now. I'm afraid some died because the water temperature was too low (I didn't have the heater on all the way because I didn't want it to get too hot). But, we'll see.

Yep, that's it! Have a good night. :)

2006-08-09T21:57:00.000-04:00

I should've posted a while ago, because now I have way too much to catch up on.

I went whitewater rafting with the sister up in VA/TN, and I should have some pictures up soon. It was an interesting experience, complete with several religious experiences, but I'm glad I did it.

I, again, changed my schedule for fall semester, but I think this one's going to stick. I've got advanced Spanish composition, history of Latin America to 1826, stellar astronomy with lab, and intermediate fiction writing. I think I'm most exicted about the fiction writing, just because I've got the same professor that I had for my introduction to fiction writing class I had in the summer. I've already got one story idea, complete with title ("The Three Wisemen"...and I promise if it works out it'll be cooler than it sounds). But astronomy is going to be awesome, as well. :) Robbie said I was most likely to sleep through class, but hopefully I won't run into that problem this semester.

I move in to the apartment Monday (yay!) and I'm starting the packing routine now. I only have about 6 or 7 loads of laundry left! And I have to figure out how to get my wittle fish babies up to Raleigh without killing them. And I have my retreat for newspaper the weekend after I move in, which should be awesome, I'm really looking forward to it. I'm also looking forward to late nights, both at the newspaper office and with friends, and having people to talk to and steal hugs from and do things with! I really can't wait to get back. I always thought that Raleigh was really dull, but when I have friends there it's not (cheeeeesy I know).

This is my last week of my internship! I may have accidentally stepped on someone's toes today, but I was just doing what needed to be done and I'll be gone in two days, so she'll get over it.

Oo gotta go - Primetime Medical Mysteries is in! :)

The Beach II

2006-07-30T16:46:00.000-04:00

So we went to the beach again today. I actually digressed in years and built a sand castle, complete with a moat and those drippy things you make with water and sand. My mom said it looked like breasts so I tore it down.

I'm starting a "Best of" thing and finding seashells over the next few days and then deciding which are the coolest ones to put into my aquarium with the baby fishies.

My mom left today for Charlotte, where she'll spend the night and then go to Abingdon, VA to switch cars with my sister so she can get the wrecked one (mine) fixed before I go to school. So that means it's just me and my dad for a day or two. Tomorrow we're riding the ferry to see the aquarium and then hang out at Carolina Beach. It should be interesting. :)

Two weeks from tomorrow and I'll be in Raleigh! I can't wait. :) I miss my Lara and my friends and all my different families, and I miss getting paid.

The Beach

2006-07-29T22:02:00.000-04:00

I'm at the beach with my parents. We went to the beach today and it was beautiful - hardly any clouds, a slight breeze, warm water...almost paradise. :) The waves were pretty rough, my dad even got knocked over, and I went on a walk and found some cool seashells. It's kind of lonely, there aren't many people around here, but Dad and I have some interesting plans for Monday.

Some random dumbass hit my sister's (MY) car up in VA. He was possibly (probably) drunk, and backed into the car, pushing it into the steps of her apartment, messing up the front as well and knocking off her stairs (she had to use a ladder to get in). So, interesting.

But yeah, that's about all that's going on. I'll update as the week goes on.

2006-07-26T23:57:00.000-04:00

So I've been meaning to write about a lot of stuff, but when I sit down to actually write it I get distracted by other stuff. :)

Let's see, the fishies are doing well! I'm not aware of any dead babies, and when I was cleaning out the tank I found out that there were about 20 hiding underneath the rocks. So I've got about 30 baby black mollies, if anyone's interested. :)

I found out that the kids I used to babysit for and their mother got in a wreck yesterday morning. The mother was unconscious from a concussion and has a sprained ankle and the kids have some scrapes and bruises. The oldest girl, Morgan, is 10 and got her brother and sister out of the car and waved down a car for help. She's a smart girl. It's a little hard for me to grasp because that's definitely one of my biggest fears, that someone I care about gets in a bad wreck and it doesn't turn out well.

It's been like that since I was a kid. I remember one time a long time ago I was arguing with my mom, and I was crying, but she was leaving to go somewhere, so I told her that I loved her before I left and I said that it was because if she died then she would know that I meant it. Haha, now that I think about it that's kind of weird. That's right up there with me trying to cut up chalk and feed it to kids.

I saw "Monster House" tonight, in THREE D! William kept raving about it it and I'm always up for a cute little movie, so I went and I loved it! The 3-D thing was freaky at first, especially with the preview of "The Nightmare Before Christmas" in 3-D (YAY Lara!). But it was definitely a recommendable movie. :)

I'm starting the process of getting applications out for next summer's internships. Last year I started a little later, probably around September, and didn't get very far. So this year I will! Right now my number one is the N&O in Raleigh, but I'll have to make a really good impression to get that one. Not that I wouldn't with others. Shut up Emily.

I can't really think of anything else to write/I'm lazy. BUT I get to go to the beach next week! And then white water rafting! Odds are I'll die or come close to dying at at least one of those. I should probably tell my editor I can't work next week, then.

What a weekend

2006-07-24T00:38:00.000-04:00

Yes, it has been an amazing weekend.

Friday night I drove up to VA to visit the sister. We saw "Lady in the Water" and I'm officially jealous of her hardwood floors and cool TV features. Then Saturday we ate lunch and visited the family of a girl she used to coach (they have the cutest hot dog dog ever!).

Saturday afternoon I drove to Raleigh, where I met up with the second family for a little bit before they went to a karate thing and I went to cover a candlelight vigil held at the state Capitol for the paper. It was sponsored by the Triangle Lebanese Association and it was very powerful.

Then Saturday night I hung out with the guys and, of course, fell asleep before anyone. :)

Today I got some work done at the office and spent a few hours cuddling with the always wonderful Mr. Jason. And now I'm back.

My dad called this morning and told me that my black molly had fish last night. He saw five. I get home and one's dead but I see three. Now, there are eight. So I'm a little nervous about the whole taking care of babies thing, but I hope at least two survive. And I hope they're boy and girl. So they can make more babies. :)

But yeah, it was a great weekend. I miss soooo many people and can't wait for school to start back up (only 21 more days!). Wish me luck with the babies!

Update: 9 babies now :)

Catch Up

2006-07-19T22:33:00.000-04:00

So, my algae eater died. BUT, I did get a black molly, two more tetras and a panda cory (which also died...). The black molly loves to swim in the bubbles that the filter makes...so adorable!

Last weekend I went up to Raleigh to see the second family! Lucas came back from his army stuff (YAY!) and he seems to be doing well. Andrew was at the beach and is super tan. Jason is working and doing physics and just being adorable. And Heather seems to be doing well and gave me two cute shirts! I loooooooooooooved seeing them again and can't wait until the semester starts to hang out again (only 26 more days). :)

My internship is going so-so. I wrote two articles for last week's edition and have a newsbrief in this one. I get to do the wonderful street beat this week, something I won't get into.

I learned today that Laith is back from Jordan! I'm very relieved because of all the drama going on over there. Now Ranni and Saja just have to get back safe and everything will be great! :)

My mother is battling the animals this summer. I drive up after work today and she's standing at the bottom of the pear tree in our front yard throwing fallen pears at a squirrel sitting at the top of the tree. And then she chased it with a broom.

She also blamed squirrels for eating the birdfood we keep on our back patio, so she decided to be smart and store the food in a clear container so they could see it but not get into it. Two minutes ago, she screamed because she saw a raccoon sitting on the patio eating the birdfood. It apparently opened the container and there was birdfood all over the patio. Pretty funny :)

I might head up to Raleigh Saturday to get some newspaper stuff for my portfolio, I'm not quite sure yet, and then I get to head to the beach with my parents for a week next Friday.

I'm sorry, this is a really stupid post. I can't promise the next one will be better, but I promise to think about trying.

A new friend!

2006-07-08T17:49:00.000-04:00

Yep, I got a new fish. It's a cory catfish and it's adorable! I named it Corey (so not creative, I know). But yeah, right now it's in my 2.5 gallon tank until I can get it up to Raleigh to join my tetra and algae eater (one of the hope brothers died, it must have been No Hope).

I'm thinking about getting a bigger aquarium, maybe a 5 gallon, once I get to school in August. I would love to have a few more tetras, maybe some more fish. I'd like to maybe get a Betta, just one though, and then maybe a different kind of tetra.

Yay for new friends!

2006-07-01T18:44:00.000-04:00

There's nothing like not having a plan. Or rather, having a plan, but then having it fall through.

This time last year, I had the next 10 years of my life planned and on track - I knew when I was going to get married, how many kids; what my job would be; where I would be living. I knew everything.

Everything changed.

It started seven months ago with the break-up, something that ended up being positive. But now it's my job, and I don't see how that can be positive. I knew since I was in elementary school that I was going to be a journalist. Sometimes I would stray off, think about something like law, but I always came back to it.

Being news editor is amazing, I love it. Sometimes. I started an internship with a weekly newspaper and I hate it after only three hours of working. I'm not exactly limited - everyone everywhere needs a writer for something. It's just the idea of not knowing that scares the living fuck out of me.

I don't know what would make me happy. I don't have to be happy. But I'd like to be. Happy for me would be having a happy family and a good job. That's a lot to ask. Like I said, I've got no plan. And I'm not okay with it.

2006-06-20T18:08:00.000-04:00

I came across this article today, maybe about an hour after reading this one, and I realized that women today are fucked up in the head.

What possible good can come from dismissing a rape trial and setting a rapist free because the lawyer was late? Other than satisfying some personal agenda. And why the hell would that girl sue MySpace? She was stupid in talking to a guy online, and her parents have got to take some kind of responsibility.

So yeah, women/girls today are fucked up in the head and god help me if I'm one of them.

Maybe it's because my mom was a feminist, but I ended up in the Women's Studies section of Barnes and Noble (I went to get "Moby Dick" for American Lit because I figured I should start reading if I have a quiz on the first 30 chapters tomorrow). I ended up becoming completely infatuated with this book. It has a blue cover with this orange flower on the front (so cute) and it's called "Cunt: a declaration of independence."

So I walked in looking for Dick and left with Cunt. I promise there are more dorky people than me. I'm really excited about it, though, and can't wait to get started. I figure I can put off "Moby Dick" for a few hours. Cunts are better than dicks anyway, right? I'm going to end this now.

Freewrite

2006-06-12T22:17:00.000-04:00

I waited, like you told me to. I waited for you to come home. But I knew the day you left, that you wouldn't be coming back. I wanted to tell you to stop staying you would be, there's no point in deceiving each other just because neither of us wanted to be alone. But I didn't. I've been living without you. It was easier dealing with it, the closure, when it finally came. I'm selfish. Because all I can think about is the kids I won't have, the love I can't have...no one will ever hold me like you did.

You let me down. You could've been so much more, you could've changed the world. I could've made your world beautiful. I've lost everything that means anything, because you wanted more for us. I wish I could have been smarter. So that you wouldn't have had to be. Things would have been different.

You know why I can't forgive you. Wherever you are, you know it. I've lost all I believed in. At least you're home now. But it doesn't do any good, either of us any good. I let you down. Before you did me. I should never have let you leave. We could've been fine, gotten by. That wasn't good enough for us.

I hope you're happier than I am. You died for your cause, right? A useless cause. No point in lying about it. I knew you wouldn't come back. We're both alone now. Love dies, just like everything else. But no one will ever love me like you did.

I love my newspaper friends

2006-06-09T13:26:00.000-04:00

I work at a law office and...Today I recieved this very nice blue marbled envelope with matching stationary... and I opened that bitch up with my sissors. It was nice. I probably would have cut it into a dinosaur, but I really didn't have time.

A Ms. S, an attorney who left our office on Tuesday...wrote the letter. She is evil. Complete with red hair, red eyes and fangs. She was always making up new jobs for me like checking the fax machine paper every five minutes and yelling at me for stupid shit like giving giving her messages that clients called. Are you busy, I would ask, and she would retort with a AHHHGHQOIUIAOFHEF I HATE YOU AND YES I'M BUSY. When she left Tuesday, the paralegal and I had a mini-celebration.

Ms. S is also an environmental Nazi. She yelled at J in front of the entire office because she left the recycling outside of the door of our office rather than taking it to the recycling place herself. Bottomline: Ms. S = snobby bitchface.

She is getting married here...but rather than gifts for her wedding she sent this blue marbled letter stating that she is absolutly blessed and doesn't want presents, please send donations to charities instead. Normally, I would think, what a nice person, but in her case I know it stands for "Whatever you will buy me isn't nice enough, so just don't bother." BUT at the end of the letter, she made a HUGE, BIG, MASSIVE grammar error.

She misused a comma. Actually she did it twice. She went COMMA CRAZY. It made me feel better about myself not only because she is a big dumb idiot, but because I noticed. My brain is huge.

And the truth is I think everybody at the Technician would have noticed, especially our friendly copy editors. And Ms. S went to UNC. muahahahhaa.

I just needed to share. bye bye

2006-05-30T23:16:00.000-04:00

I'm writing a story about a bill Sen. Neal Hunt introduced that would require all undergraduate students to go through a criminal background check, including fingerprinting, as part of the application process in all UNC schools.

At first I was completely against it - it would be almost impossible to get a background check on every single student, and there is an issue of privacy, something Jason emphatically used to argue against it.

But the motivation behind Hunt's proposal is the murder of two UNCW students. If you don't want to read the story: one of the killers, Curtis Dixon, hit Jessica Faulkner with a blunt object, injected her with what's thought to be either a pain killer or date rape drug, raped her and strangled her. Dixon was previously at two other UNC campuses, UNC Charlotte and North Carolina School of the Arts, but left after incidents involving fighting and stalking a female student.

Faulkner may or may not have had a restraining order against him, something that we all know is a pathetic form of protection. I've always thought that a restraining order is just a way for law enforcement to say, "Hey, we tried" after there's a dead victim.

I don't know if this bill would help ensure even a little more safety on campus, but at least Hunt's addressing it. He's right, something needs to be done to keep students safe. I've never been a victim of physical violence, but I know what it's like to feel completely unsafe, never knowing if someone's right around the corner waiting for their moment to do everything they said they would.

And it's not like you can just stay away from people who make you uncomfortable - it's almost as if you have to stay away from everyone. You say "Hi" or smile at someone and it can set something off, or maybe not even that.

Like Lili Wang, who was actually killed on the tennis courts by a man, Richard Borelli Anderson, who then killed himself five feet away. He left a note on a greeting card addressed to his mother saying that he was infatuated with her, his classmate who was happily married, and had decided to end both their lives.

I'm not a feminist, I don't think. It's just that feeling that anything could happen, that there's nothing to protect you from someone.

So in the end, I'm willing to give up privacy for just a little more safety, or at least a feeling of safety. Call me unAmerican, but I'd rather not have to worry so much.

2006-05-28T03:00:00.000-04:00

"Black Russian."
"Black Russian? Took a cab?"
"Oh please, that's like water to me now."
"Wow, things have changed."
"Well I quit smoking, everything, for Stephen, replaced it with alcohol and since that ended when he penetrated that slut I'm smoking again and an alcoholic."
"As long as you're happy. That's really just bullshit, your life sucks."
"Don't they all."
"At least you get to have a divorce, some of us don't get past the shower fuck."
"How are things with the latest dick?"
"Fred, and it's shit. I hate the name Fred, and I hate red hair, and freckles."
"Why is it that when you hit 30 you can't choose your fucks, other than choosing between redheads, fat asses and god damn gay straight men?"
"Have you looked at the 20 year old sluts? I'm not so sure I wouldn't fuck them."

***

I have no idea where that came from. I was originally doing an assignment for my writing class, but I don't think I'm going to turn that in.

I am currently sitting on my bed at 3 a.m. with my sister's laptop (hee hee). I'm at home in Charlotte, my mom and sister are at the beach and my dad is in Kentucky. So why am I at home? Boredom. I couldn't take another night or two in Raleigh driving laps around the inner beltline listening to music.

So I'm sure you're wondering what's been going on. I'm actually more sure you haven't. But anyways, taking two summer classes (American Literature and Fiction Writing) and working at Technician. In July I come back to Charlotte and start my internship with "Charlotte Weekly."

I thought I had more to say, but I don't.

It made me laugh :)

2006-05-26T15:06:00.000-04:00

2006-05-13T09:44:00.000-04:00

To the person in Chile:

I think it's rude and contemptible. I think you're rude and contemptible. I understand that you don't understand the significance of a soldier fighting for his country, especially when the country isn't yours, but to steal money, over $1,000, from a soldier and spend it in a camera store while he's fighting is deplorable.

Your conscience should be severely hurting right now, even though it's probably not.

100 Things

2006-05-10T22:34:00.000-04:00

So, I'm bored. And I found a list I did a year ago (a few years ago?) where I list 100 things about me. The point is to get to know me...most of you already do. Let's just look at this as me alleviating my boredom. The highlighted ones haven't changed.

1. I want to be Sandra Bullock.
2. I'll never admit it to your face.
3. M. Night Shyamalan inspires me.
4. I wanted to be an actress for 15 years.
5. I cry when I get scared.
6. I hate being tickled.
7. I love public speaking.
8. I don't want to get married.
9. I don't want to have kids.
10. I like to observe more than participate.
11. Honesty is the most important thing to me in a friendship.
12. I am confident with myself, but I'm not who I want to be.
13. I hold grudges.
14. I'm naive.
15. I believe in a woman's right to choose.
16. I feel more comfortable with men than women.
17. My mother calls me a bitch.
18. I love college football.
19. I have made too many mistakes.
20. I love my boobs.
21. I think my best physical asset is my eyes.
22. It's hard for me to forgive.
23. I want to leave the country at least once in my life.
24. My parents think I'm an angel.
25. I'm not.

26. I want to be a journalist.
27. I want to find love.
28. I like spending my money.
29. I'm a messy person.
30. I love dogs.
31. Every plant I had died.
32. I had my first kiss at 17.
33. I've kissed 2 guys.
34. I don’t understand people.
35. I'm easily confused.
36. I'm a Democrat.
37. I want to have an impact on the world.
38. I'm either late or early - never on time.
39. I'm 1/16th Cherokee Indian.
40. I love being in a big city.
41. I try to forgive people.
42. I suck at it.
43. I have never been stung by a bee.
44. I have never broken a bone.
45. I don't really believe in second chances.
46. First impressions are important to me.
47. I've never seen a real fight.
48. I've never seen a drunk person.
49. I'm a picky eater.
50. I'm afraid of commitment.

51. I forget easily.
52. I wear contacts.
53. Glasses give me a headache.
54. I hate losing. At anything.
55. I trip a lot.
56. Clowns scare me.
57. One of my ex-boyfriends is now gay.
58. I used to worship Hanson.
59. I want to have my uncle's life.
60. If I lose something, I look for it.
61. I love subtitled movies.
62. I practice fake crying.
63. My grandfather had a TV show in the 60s.
64. My other grandfather fought in the Korean War.
65. He died early this year.
66. I cried the first day of high school.
67. I volunteered at the hospital one summer.
68. I fed two kids chalk.
69. I love watching people trip and fall.
70. I believe in God.
71. I'm not sure which one.
72. I love wearing heels.
73. I got in trouble for cussing in 2nd grade.
74. I've always been boy crazy.
75. I like Guns N' Roses.

76.I'm aggressive when I play volleyball.
77. My dad taught me how to burp.
78. I suck at math.
79. I love meeting people.
80. Historical buildings give me goosebumps.
81. I get sick when I laugh a lot.
82. Sunflowers are my favorite flower.
83. I write my representatives in Congress.
84. They call me "Mr. Kiser" when they write back.
85. I choke on certain kinds of meat.
86. I'm lazy.
87. I procrastinate.
88. I go shopping when I'm sad.
89. I want to be the Ideal Woman.
90. If I could change one thing I've done, I wouldn't.
91. I don't like people knowing who I really am.
92. I collect glass bottles.
93. And bouncy balls.
94. I bite my nails.
95. All my fish die within two weeks.
96. I have a freckle on my left knee.
97. Success is more than a job to me.
98. I called a girl fat and made her cry in elementary school.
99. I still feel bad.
100. I did this because Sam did it.

My Soapbox

2006-04-26T22:28:00.000-04:00

Yes, I am stepping on my soapbox for the bajillionth time, so if you don't want to read it then, you know, just stop reading.

Working at the newspaper over the past month has taught me so many things about people and the way the world works. Everyone has a story, most of them boring, but a story nonetheless.

Some people have great stories - the "normal guy" whose talent meets passion at just the right moment to turn him into a Hollywood producer, or the autistic student whose mother wrote a book about him and his successes.

And some people just have really bad stories, but they seem so desperate to have one worth more that they end up screwing themselves in the end (no names on this one).

The fact of the matter is, everyone wants everyone else to know their stories.

Another fact is that hardly anyone, if anyone, is happy. There's always something or someone better that they could have. This fact didn't just come from working at the newspaper, though the people I met and the stories I heard definitely don't discount that.

As you grow up, you lose a lot of things through learning more.

Growing up, I was convinced I had the perfect family - wonderful parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, everyone. But slowly, the truth comes out. So-and-so had an affair/was on drugs/got pregnant/lied/lost their money...there's never an end to the surprises that were always there.

I love my family and everyone in it, so I'm not bashing them at all. They're still wonderful, just for different reasons. And it's not just mine.

In the past few years, I've met a wide variety of people who have fucked up everything just because they wanted something better - and most of them don't know it yet.

There's the man who had an affair before he was even married that continued into his marriage, and his euphoric wife still has no idea that he merely "settled" for her while pursuing the better things on the side.

There's the man and woman, brother and sister in their 50s, who can't tell their parents who they're dating because they wouldn't approve, the man because his girlfriend is black and the woman because her boyfriend is still in the process of getting divorced.

There's the girl who's determined to get pregnant because, if she does, her man can't leave him, and she can't take being left again.

It's cliche in every sense, but people just can't be happy with what they have and they can't stop hiding the truth because of what would happen if the truth came out.

I'm not saying I'm an angel who lives by the truth, everyone in the world would know that's a lie, so in a way I feel like I'm becoming the type of person I never wanted to.

I don't think there's anything wrong with having secrets, as long as it's for the right reasons. But that'll start the whole debate about what a good reason is, so I'm just going to stop here.

I have a Spanish presentation to work on. And a paper.

To Boys

2006-04-24T22:56:00.000-04:00

Wear hot, good-smelling cologne becuase, oh my god, girls will want to stalk you just to smell you.

2006-04-19T01:31:00.000-04:00

I'm frustrated, I'm tired, and I don't know how much longer I'm going to put up with this.

Success the First

2006-04-13T10:45:00.000-04:00

Today I had my interview for the intern position at "Charlotte Weekly." Surprisingly, I wasn't even nervous. I was so confident that I had it because this is what I'm good at and this is what I want.

So I walk in wearing my "professional" clothes - long, black flowy pants with a white button-up shirt and two-inch black heels. When I walk in, there are newspapers everywhere (they go to press on Wednesday) and almost everyone's wearing jeans (I love that).

I find the woman I'm looking for (the editor) and I sit down in her office and pull out my portfolio (that, in the end, I didn't need).

The woman sits down and starts the interview. She said I had a lot of experience and she didn't know what her paper could teach me that I probably don't already know.

But I tell her that the reason I want an internship with her newspaper is because I want experience in a professional journalistic atmosphere. Right when I say this, one of the writers walks by with bunny ears. Honestly, this looks like a great, fun place to be.

I do get the position in the end, starting at the end of June/beginning of July after my summer classes. It's unpaid, but I'm sure I'll be paid in other ways (i.e., experience, and shut up I mean that).

I'm really excited about this! My first internship with a real newspaper. It is weekly, but I like that a lot because it means the atmosphere won't be so hectic and crazy.

I have to celebrate this weekend!

Things I've Wanted to Say to People...

2006-04-01T20:43:00.000-05:00

...but am too chicken to say them:

- Get the fuck over yourself. Don't take what I did as a compliment to your ego - it was out of pure hatred, it wasn't something I've been plotting or waiting for the right moment for, it was something that was spur of the moment, something I should have done months ago. I used to be able to sum you up in one word: perfect. I still can: arrogant/conceited/self-serving/ignorant/pompous/egotistical/bullheaded/overbearing/stubborn...so maybe I can't. The point I'm trying to make is don't make the mistake of thinking that you're worth anything to me.

- Don't expect too much out of me. When you put me in a situation like this and expect me to be exemplary, you're setting yourself up for disappointment.

- I'm completely capable of running things the way I want to, the right way. I don't need your advice and I don't need your criticism, and I especially don't need panicky phone calls, they don't help.

- It's "sepArate," not "sepErate." Spell fucking check.

2006-03-30T16:35:00.000-05:00

There's something I've learned over the past few weeks.

Everyone's an asshole.

No matter how nice and respectful someone is to your face, they're still an asshole.

Whether it's members of student organizations, professors, friends, family or even those god-driven people who try to better life for everyone - everyone's an asshole.

That's why I don't feel so bad when I shut the door in the faces of people trying to raise money for Relay for Life.

No, I don't have any change. Not even a penny. I can't afford to breathe, they should take that into account before they roll their eyes at me.

I'm an asshole.

2006-03-28T21:34:00.000-05:00

::cough::

2006-03-27T22:39:00.000-05:00

I don't have anything to say but I feel like I should write something.

I'm going to take over as News Editor of the paper April 1, and I'm both hesitant and excited. It's going to call for long nights, Sunday through Thursday, and a lot of frustrations. But it's also going to be the best time of my college life, I'm sure.

I think I'm awful sometimes because it's hard for me to care. I just don't. Like people that used to be important to me, they just aren't anymore and I've neglected them. With a select few, I regret it, I really do, and I wish I could make it up to them but I can't. But with a majority of them, I just couldn't care less.

It doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. I've always been terrified of being apathetic towards anything outside of myself. But I'm not apathetic towards everyone, or everything. There are some great people in my life right now.

Six months ago I had a plan for the next 10 years of my life, and now I don't know what I'm doing next week (besides working). I was happy six months ago, and I didn't think it was possible to be happier without certain people in my life. But I am.

And it's not necessarily because they're not in my life anymore. It's because I'm someone better. I relied on them too much to tell me who I should be, or what I thought they wanted.

This is the worst post I've ever written.

2006-03-22T01:32:00.000-05:00

Fuck you. That's all I have to say.

2006-03-19T23:23:00.000-05:00

How can you miss something you never had?

Even

2006-03-17T19:11:00.000-05:00

Well, today's been an even day. For every good thing, there's been an equally bad thing. The best part about that is that there's only been one good and one bad thing.

The good thing I can't really talk about yet. I'll let you know in a few days if you're not special enough to know about it already.

The bad thing came at the exact second I got off the phone about my good thing. The "Richmond-Times Dispatch" does not want me as an intern this summer. Can't say I'm not bummed about that one.

We've still got a few more places to hear back from. I'll keep you guys updated.

My Fish Are Going To Die

2006-03-13T11:27:00.000-05:00

I got two neon tetra's over break! My dad picked the names - The Hope Brothers: Little Hope and No Hope. Want to know why? Because I suck at keeping fish alive.

The last fish I had, a betta named Buddy, died within a few days because I forgot about water temperature when I was cleaning his tank. Within minutes he sank to the bottom of the tank and then floated right up. The water was too cold.

The other fish I had died, I think because I fed them too much? I'm still not sure. So I have to be careful with the Hope's, but I don't want to underfeed them.

I'm surprised they made it to school! That's a good sign.

They're scared of the little plant thing I put in their tank. When it's in there, they huddle over in a corner of the tank and keep trying to swim further away. So I'm thinking I'll take it out.

I'm pulling for a week!

Spring Break Shit

2006-03-08T23:16:00.000-05:00

Spring Break = me at home. It's not that I mind being at home (much) I just really hate that I wasted a week of what should have been fun vacation time. I've got two more left, though!

I've gotten myself into a lot of trouble this week, which should be a bad thing, but it's turned into a good thing because it's sort of entertaining.

My sister (who's reading this by the way) told my parents that I've been drinking, which I have. I don't know how she found out, but she told, and I did what I always do when I'm trying to lie when I'm put on the spot: laugh. So I couldn't lie my way out of it.

I got a mild lecture (several times now) about how alcoholism runs in the family and I'm twice as likely to get it as anyone else because I have an addictive personality.

Later that same day, my mom was talking about in the car and she said, "I bet you get high too." I denied it, and she said, "Yes you do! Because you smoked that-" and I should have let her finish her sentence, because she was going to finish it with "hookah" (she thinks it's weed), but I thought she was going to finish it with "one time at Jennifer's house."

So I said, "Oh Mom it was just that one time!" And she stopped, and said, "What one time?" So, she found it that I smoked pot at my friend Jennifer's house in 10th grade and that I've been lying to her for a few years. I also thought that she already knew that I smoked pot, so I was just stupid all around.

Now my mom thinks that I'm getting high and drunk all the time and that I go to too many parties and she said that she's sure I've had my share of boys.

So now that I had my mom all pissed off, I went straight for the aunt and grandparents. This one, though, I didn't think would piss anyone off, but I guess I just forgot how conservative and old-fashioned my grandparents and aunt are.

"Brokeback Mountain" is a topic that should never, ever be mentioned in front of old people. They immediately turn into these snarling, beastly people and will not turn back to normal unless you admit that gays are all going to hell as will anyone who enjoyed that movie.

I made the mistake of saying I enjoyed it and that the movie got robbed at the Oscars. You'd think I'd fucking admitted to being gay myself, the way they responded. My life felt threatened, I almost thought that my 80-year-old grandmother was going to pick up the little fire poker thing and stab me in the face with it while saying the Lord's prayer.

Once that blew over (thanks to my Mom changing the topic) I unleased the fury once again in my aunt by saying that I didn't like Dr. Phil and that I thought he wasn't a good person.

"Why would you say something like that?!"

"I read an article about it," I said, realizing my mistake in having an opinion.

"Do you know him?" she asked. I didn't know if it was a rhetorical question or not so I just kind of stared at her. "Then how do you know he's not a good person?"

"Well do you know him? How do you know he's a good person?" my sister threw in.

My aunt stood up and actually left at that point, mumbling something as she walked out the door.

So...wow. I should feel bad! I don't really, though. I'm actually grateful that something happened that I can write about in my blog. So I'm done.

Made Me Laugh

2006-03-07T22:59:00.000-05:00

Pay, Pump, and Go.

I was pulling up to a gas pump yesterday that a woman was just leaving and when I got out of the car a shrill female voice shouted across the gas station, "What the fuck!" It was the very same woman who had just gotten back into her car and pulled away.

"Yea?" I said. She again repeated, "What the fuck!"

That's how women solve problems. They stop whatever they're doing and scream obscenities until someone refills their bottle. That's also why little girls shouldn't swear, because as they grow up, they'll be frothing at the mouth to do so.

Obviously, the woman was upset because she was somehow not done with whatever she was doing that a man would have done in half the time.

"I thought you were done." I said.

Another woman came out of nowhere and began comforting the first who was well in hysterics. After all, I had just robbed her of her due right to purchase gasoline exactly how and when she had envisioned doing so. Without a man's sense of priority or perspective, this act was tantamount to me waltzing into her wedding, tipping over the cake, making gang signs in all the pictures, and then seducing her mother for the evening and not calling her the next day. Real class act basically, and all I did so far was open my car door.

The new woman instructed the other to use one of the many pumps around the other side of the petrol station.

"Hey!" I said clearly and deliberately as though I was addressing a rebellious mule. "I thought you were done."

Like every man does in absolutely every situation, I fixed the problem immediately. I simply backed up and went to another pump. By the way, that's a good strategy when it comes to dealing with women caught in the wild mania that they call their home - simply back up and go for another. It's not like suffering any of her bullshit is going to win you an award or any fucking compassion. Women have the memories of goldfish.

I hesitate to make this article about how men are better than women at filling their car with gas, although it's completely true. As I watched the completely normal - let me stress that again - completely normal woman whose make-believe logic and hysteria you encounter a hundred times every day, continue her grand gasoline purchasing adventure, I discovered two things.

Mistake number two was that she had pulled up to the pump on the wrong side, thus prompting her to back out in the first place. That explains the cursing, I thought. When women are embarrassed they will try to eviscerate everything that they can get their talons in - especially their own children.

Mistake number one was that a man gave her a set of car keys.

Dear Jackass

2006-03-03T13:58:00.000-05:00

Let me help you out here: you're a pig, an embarrasingly awful and fucking ugly pig. When you beep your horn at me and give one of those little "woo hoo" whistles, you're not only turning me off completely but you're making me want to take a baseball bat to your fat, bald, lumpy head.

Don't get pissed at me when I give you my middle finger and tell you to fuck off - honestly, it's just reflex when a dumbass redneck tries to think he's sexy.

That's what you are, right? A redneck? Your wife-beater and pick-up truck with the confederate flag in the back gave it away, and if that didn't your god-awful accent and bad teeth did.

Get an education or go back to your hick town where sluts are actually flattered by your chauvinistic charm. Asshole.

With Love,
One of the many girls you're never going to be good enough for

2006-02-27T22:19:00.000-05:00

Ahhhh man....I just spent half-an-hour on the eliptima-thingy at the gym and got 4 miles. I don't know what that means, but I can't walk well and that's gotta be a good sign.

I slept 11 fucking hours last night and I'm still tired. I feel bad for people who care enough about school to give up sleep for it. Like Jason. And Sara. And Lara. My Lara's at the library right now, studying, on the 7th floor...the room feels really empty. :(

I haven't heard back from any of the places I applied to intern yet. I'm starting to get that little panicky feeling, because if I don't get an internship I'm either at home all summer or taking summer classes. Not something that I want to have happen.

You know, I should sent out my other applications. I've had them ready for about 2 months but I messed up my resume and never fixed it, so they never got sent out. Hmmm...okay, I'm going to go check that.

2006-02-24T01:24:00.000-05:00

I hate how you thought you were better than me, how whenever I had a problem you were right there, not for support but to tell me what I should do. And then if I didn't you wouldn't let it go.

I hate how you tried to be funny, even though you weren't. I pretended to laugh at most of your jokes, did you know that?

I hate how you compared me to other people, how you would tell me ways to improve myself. And then you'd go on about how confident you were, that if people couldn't accept you it was their problem.

I hate how your moods changed every five minutes, and how you'd get pissed when I couldn't understand why.

I hate how you felt you had the last word about everything.

I hate the way you looked out of the side of your eyes.

I hate that the only way you could have a serious conversation is if it was something you were serious about.

I love that I can listen to songs that were once ours, and think of somebody else.

I love that I can do whatever it is I want without worrying about what you think.

I love that I can spend nights away from home without having to explain myself.

I love that I can laugh at things that are actually funny, and that I don't have to laugh at things that aren't.

I love that I can feel beautiful on bad days.

I love that I can be stupid and goofy without feeling like a dumbass.

I love that I'm so happy right now. :)

2006-02-22T11:47:00.000-05:00

I reached 90% of my 48.8M limit on my e-mail account today, so I went through and started deleting emails I don't need. I found out I'm a packrat even when it comes to emails, I hate throwing anything away. I found a folder named "Misc" and found two emails from August 2004.

They were both the same article from the "News & Observer" - headline: Man killed, 3 hurt in Raleigh crash. I still can't read the whole thing, but I can't delete it either...

August 2004 I was a freshman in every sense of the word. I was actually excited about going to class and had gone as so far as to read the first chapter in every book so I could be ahead of the other slack-ass students. My wardrobe was...naive, to be kind. And my brain was so messed up when I saw how many hot (at the time) guys there were just walking around.

I made the first floor of Turlington Hall my hall of choice for several reasons: 1 - It was the home of the first guy I met, 2 - It was right in the middle of everything, and 3- It wasn't air conditioned, giving the perfect excuse for me to drool over the shirtless boys.

My favorite one to stand open-mouthed gaping at was Brandon Sova. It wasn't his body that so enthralled me (thought it was certainly far from unenthralling), it was his smile. When he smiled you could see it in his eyes, something I've found to be a rare quality. And, from what I remember, he was smiling more than he wasn't.

Three memories automatically come to mind when I think of him.

The first was one afternoon when I was wandering the hall looking into the boy's rooms to see what they were doing. When I looked into Sova's room, he was sitting in his chair playing his acoustic guitar, trying to keep up with Eric Clapton's "Layla." He was wearing his hat with his hair poking out from underneath and his silver basketball shorts.

He turned around and I saw that smile in his eyes before I saw it on his lips.

After a minute of small talk I looked through his music collection, picking Counting Crows' "Mr. Jones." He picked up an inflatable beach ball and we began hitting it back and forth like a volleyball. At one point after I lightly hit it back at him he laughed and said, "I'm tryin' to set you!" I told him silently that I'll do anything, as long as he never stops smiling.

The second memory I have is sitting in the hallway with another guy watching Sova play his guitar. He didn't sing, just played, but in all honesty words would have ruined it.

I was feeling a little off, not ready to admit that I was homesick so soon, and listening to him made me feel calm and anxious. The best way I can describe it is the way you feel in an antique store, walking along the creaky wooden floorboards, smelling the dust before you can see the particles floating in the small, random slits of sunlight that make their way into the overly dark room.

Sitting in that hallway, across from Sova and his guitar...I've met a lot of people who can play instruments, but he was the only one I thought I could listen to forever.

The last memory I have of Sova is when we were outside early evening. I was sitting on the brick steps and he and several others were standing in front of the steps playing hacky sack. They were gossiping about a random R.A. on one of the upper floors, and every few minutes Sova would look over and smile...that smile.

About half-an-hour into it, a guy walked by and asked Sova if he was going to the keg party that night, offered him a ride. I remember hoping he would invite me, knowing that I would decline if he did, but just wanting any reason to talk to him. He didn't invite me.

The next morning at 9:30 my room phone rang. Lara was gone, I think she went to a funeral or a church event...something. I let it ring, never wanting to start my day before 11. Two more calls. I finally got up and answered.

It was a guy from first floor Turlington. Something bad happened.

What?

Sova got in a car accident last night.

Which hospital is he in?

No answer.

Which one?

He's dead.

What?

No answer.

You're lying.

Why would I lie about something like that?

Hang up. Throw the phone against the wall, break it and it won't be real. It's not okay to cry over something that's not real.

I didn't go to his funeral. When I went back to Turlington Hall a few days later, the bulletin from the service was hanging on a billboard. His picture was on the front, his eyes smiling bigger than his lips.

I stopped going to Turlington after that. I played hacky sack with a friend outside, but I never went inside. I have no desire to.

I guess it's about time that I should move past it, it's been a year and and a half. If I ignore it then I'm past it. I should delete the articles. I know I won't, though. Not today at least.

Tuku Music

2006-02-21T22:09:00.000-05:00

I've written about him a billion times before, but I'm writing about him again...so get over it.

Oliver Mtukudzi, I'm convinced, is my soulmate that I'll probably never meet. But I don't have to meet him. I've got his music. It's lame in every definition, but it's something that I've come to believe.

I don't remember the first moment that I fell in love with Africa, but I do know that it's been in the back of my mind for the past six years, at least. I walked into Ten Thousand Villages in Charlotte and found two of Oliver Mtukudzi's albums: "Tuku Music" and "Vhunze Moto."

I first got attached to "Tuku Music," the songs touching my heart most being "Mai Varamba" and "Todii". There's something in his voice that pulls at me, and I can't be the only one who feels that when listening to him.

He toured the U.S. this summer, something I missed because of my stupid surgery. He previously toured the U.S. in 2000, so maybe in a few years I'll get another chance to see him.

This post doesn't have a point other than basically to tell you to listen to his songs. And read the lyrics, they're meaningful. :)

What It's Like

2006-02-20T15:53:00.000-05:00

There's a lot that I have to learn before I can get to where I want to be. I learned a little more today.

I had a conference with one of my writing professors. I've missed class the past week and a half, turned in half-assed assignments late and honestly didn't give a damn. But I have a reason.

I'm good at hiding how I feel about things, both a blessing and a curse. There's so much going on that I care about, that effect me, but no one can really tell. Honestly, that's the way I like it - no one asking questions except me.

That's one of the reasons I chose journalism, because I get to ask the questions and find the answers about other people. This time, though, I was up against a professional.

Professor Warren: journalist, feminist, and the one person I've found that can relate.

Vitor Franchito was found yesterday morning, and I feel a relief that I don't think I've quite felt before. Vitor's friend, Rodrigo, put into words exactly what I and I'm sure others were feeling:

"I feel like I've been running for 20 miles and I just stopped now and I'm breathing."

My mom told me that one of my best and worst qualities is that I empathize more than I should. And even an old friend told me I can't get worked up about it, I can't get attached to people and stories, because that's not how journalism works. But it's hard not to.

It was that look in their eyes when they talked to me - "He's somewhere," his dad said, and I could see even through his glasses the panic and the sadness and the determination all in his eyes.

It was impossible not to get attached, involved. He even made it into my dreams. We couldn't put up enough flyers, run enough stories about it. If you've ever dealt with something like this, of desperately looking for something that's seemingly impossible to find, you know the feeling. I can't begin to describe it.

Professor Warren knew, she'd been there, and she knew exactly how to get to me. There are lines journalists cross that maybe they shouldn't, something I've always known, but she basically told me that everything I know about journalists and lines is bullshit.

"I don't remember a story that I wrote, that was worth reading, where I didn't cross the line, in my heart at least," she said. "Every story that I've ever gotten an award for was a story where I crossed the line."

I'm not looking to win any awards, as I'm sure she wasn't either.

I've been blessed in that I haven't had any major problems hit close to home for me, but I have to learn how to deal with other people's problems becoming my problems. That's what I signed up for when I decided to be a journalist.

Journalism is becoming a lot harder than I'm ready for it to be. From what Professor Warren told me, that's just the way it is. People need you, like Vitor's searchers needed me, and after all's done...you're done.

There's nothing like the feeling of knowing that you don't know enough. There are lines that are going to be crossed and I have to be ready to cross them. I'm going to get attached to people and stories I don't know, and I know already that they're not all going to end up with an ending with Vitor's. Some will be bad, and I have to be strong enough to stick with it.

Eighth grade was when I decided journalism was for me. My reasoning was that I could use my writing to "change the world." I never thought that, at the same time I would be having some kind of effect on the world, the writing would have an effect on me.

I keep telling myself that it's insane and improbable that I can feel the same pain as the people I'm writing about - I'm not going through it, they are, I'm just writing about it. But it doesn't work that way, you can't accurately get their point across without feeling what they feel.

I don't know why this bothers me. But, I'm repeating myself, so I'll stop here.

2006-02-20T11:20:00.000-05:00

You ever have one of those mornings when, after the first few things happen, you know it's going to be a bad day?

That's a bad intro but, fuck you, I don't care.

It was snowing/sleeting this morning on the way to class and I was too busy watching it that I ran into a pole. And then on the way to the library, I slipped and almost fell, so my balance was off and I was kind of curving, and there was a skateboarder right behind me and when I slipped I got in his way and he fell...

I talked to my aunt through e-mail today - my cousin who works in D.C. went quail hunting this weekend at the same place Cheney shot his friend. Not only that, but he went hunting with Gene Cernan, the last man to walk on the moon from Apollo 17, and Bill Anders from Apollo 8.

I'm going to have to work those connections. :)

My aunt asked how my sister's job hunt is going. I don't know, ask my sister. Oh by the way, Aunt, my semester's going well. I'm covering some stories for the paper that are interesting, making a lot of new friends...thanks for asking.

I'm just grumpy.

I'm such a bad person. I'm talking to this girl and she said that her friend will have to "wait until a knight in shining armor knocks on her door." I replied with, "The odds of a knight and shining armor showing up are pretty slim." But in reality I was thinking "The odds of a knight and shining armor showing up to HER door are pretty slim, and even then he has to like her, which after hearing her talk he'll be convinced he's at the wrong house, maybe even after seeing her."

There's actually more but uh, I figure I look like a big enough bitch already.

Update:

As I was leaving Poe Hall, I pushed open the door and hit a guy in the face. DON'T COME NEAR ME TODAY!!

Freewrite the Second

2006-02-18T22:44:00.000-05:00

"When was the last time you saw her?" Adrienne asked.

The woman took a shaky breath, swallowed and hesitated a moment. "Three days ago. She was going back to school. She said she had a meeting so she left earlier than usual. I didn't even know about this, this man," she said, emphasizing "man" as if the very word were enough to convict him. "What would he want with a seventeen-year-old?" she almost whispered.

Adrienne was writing on her notepad. She'd heard the story before, many times before, and was used to the sobbing mother routine.

"Did you know of Luke Cunningham before the disappearance of your daughter?" Adrienne asked.

The mother cringed and Adrienne felt a small ping of hope – every journalist hopes for a breakdown, it makes for a great story.

"No, I'd never even knew he existed," she said, wringing her hands tight around her Kleenex and pursing her lips.

Adrienne wrote more on her pad.

"You mentioned before that your daughter had a diary - did she write about Luke Cunningham at all?" Adrienne asked.

The mother's head snapped up. Adrienne knew that her daughter had, she could see it in the mother's eyes - the pain, the denial, the misunderstanding, the betrayal.

"I think it's time for you to leave," her mother said.

"Of course," Adrienne said. "Thank you for your time." She stood up to leave as the mother started crying again. It wasn't her job to comfort her - that was what her family and church friends were for.

It was obvious that the woman's daughter, Megan, had written about Luke in her diary - all of the girls did. They all became infatuated with an older man and what man is going to say no to a young, pure girl?

As Adrienne walked to her car she wondered how far Megan and Luke had gone, or if they had even gotten anywhere. Most likely she's gone because Luke wanted something she wasn't willing to give. Just like all the other girls.

She got home in time to find her husband on the couch, that damned couch, in front of the television watching football. He was wearing his traditional "game time gear" (a Patriots jersey and backwards hat, basketball shorts and socks) and was shoving chips down his throat.

"Hey babe," he said, his mouth half-full and not taking his eyes from the TV.

"Hi," she said, waiting for him to remember that they'd had a fight last night. She wondered if he would even remember, half of the times he didn't, which pissed her off even more.

He didn't this time, either.

She put her purse on the counter and looked around the kitchen. There were three pizza boxes, one with pizza still in it, open on the table surrounded by beer cans and dirty napkins. The same mess that was there this morning.

"Were the guys over last night?" Adrienne asked.

"Yeah."

"Do they know how to clean up?"

"Babe, come on, I'm watching the game."

She hated it when he called her babe. She had told him before, and she wondered if he didn't listen or just didn't care.

She walked into their bedroom, stepping over a pile of dirty clothes and turning on the lamp by her dresser. She changed clothes then sat down on their twelfth-floor balcony with her laptop to write her story.

Adrienne was a journalist, a profession she despised but was good at. More specifically, she was an investigative journalist, and her latest assignment was Megan Davis, a seventeen-year-old girl who disappeared on her way back to college last Sunday night. She was meeting with her lover, a thirty-two-year-old divorced man with two kids, at a place by the lake.

So far, there were no leads other than the obvious, Luke Cunningham. He was the last one to see her alive and his alibi was he was sleeping at home - alone. She had seen the same story too many times before, and she knew that Megan was probably dead.

She didn't know what it was about teenage girls these days, why they felt like they needed a man in their lives to make everything better and more romantic. Six years ago she was the same way, but she'd been smart and married for money, not for love.

By the time she finished writing her story, barely meeting her deadline, the stars were out and the city was eerily quiet. She turned off her laptop and looked out at the skyline. She could hear the soft roar of the occasional car 12 floors down, and got the feeling of calming anxiety, like when she found an old picture in an antique store where a straight-faced man stared back at her with hollow, faded eyes.

She heard Mark stand up, turn off the TV and walk into the bedroom with his arms over his head, yawning. He had put on weight these past few years, lost some hair and most of his good looks. She looked into his eyes, the part of him that she used to think was the only good part. The greens and blues seemed plain now, devoid of anything worth searching for.

"You missed a great game babe," he said, collapsing on the bed with a sigh.

"Hmm," Adrienne said, looking back out over the city. She never liked football.

"You should watch it with me next time, I would love some company," he said, putting on a half-smile and trying to win her over with his "good looks."

"You should invite the guys next time, I'll probably be working," she replied. She knew that wouldn't go well with him. He didn't understand why she was working, it wasn't like they needed the money, and he knew she didn't like being a journalist.

"Why do you work, Ady? You don't like it and you always come home in a bad mood, I don't ever get to see you in a good mood anymore," he said.

"That's because you always put me in a bad mood," she said. She didn't intend to start fights with him but she never held her tongue with anyone, and she wasn't going to make exceptions with Mark just because she was married to him.

He put his head into the pillow and made a grunting noise. "Are you still mad about last night?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Was I mad when I left this morning?" she asked.

He sighed. "I'm sorry that I slept with her," he said, not even trying to sound apologetic this time.

She didn't even know why she cared - she didn't love him, and it wasn't like she was having sex with him. She knew he was getting it somewhere else, but she never expected it to be with someone so young.

Christen was barely eighteen. She'd caught them together on the couch yesterday afternoon when she came home from work. She wondered how much longer it would be before she would be writing an article about her husband.

She looked over at him. He had his face still buried in his pillow and he was sprawled out on the bed. She could keep arguing with him or let it go, he'd be asleep in a few minutes anyway. She decided to let it go.

She looked back out again over the city, remembering her excitement when she first moved here. Freshly married to one of the richest men she'd ever met, she was looking forward to the thousand-dollar shopping sprees at the brand name stores and the weekly manicures and haircuts. But that got boring fast.

Even the libraries and music hot-spots of Chicago got old, something she never would have expected.

She applied for a writing position two years ago. She was always a writer, and journalism ran in her blood. Her father was a broadcast journalist, and had raised her to question everything, something that was natural to her and annoying to others.

She hated writing about fashion and politics, but found a strange comfort in writing about crimes as they progressed. She actually enjoyed questioning distraught relatives of missing children, seeing adults lose control and cry in front of everyone. Maybe she just found comfort in knowing that people were still capable of feeling so much for someone else that all of their thoughts revolved around that one person and their desire to save them. Or maybe she was just morbid. It didn't matter.

She stood up and walked back into the bedroom where Mark was already snoring. She considered sleeping on the couch, but decided against it when she remembered Christen. She wondered how many other girls he had been with, and how many were legal.

She grabbed a cigarette from her purse and a beer from the fridge, and walked back out onto the balcony, closing the glass door behind her. She sat down in one of the chairs and put the beer down beside her. She lit her cigarette and practiced blowing smoke rings around the stars.

Did he ever love her? She didn't know why she thought it, or why it mattered – she never loved him. But she couldn't help but question it.

She met him at Rosa's Lounge in Humboldt Park. He was so suave, and, at the time, handsome. Just barely 21 at the time, she'd had her fill of just-graduated, no-plan, living-with-my-parents-until-I-get-a-real-job assholes.

She'd caught him eying her a few times during the night, and when he finally had enough liquid courage to approach her, he proved he was more than experienced. That was the first and only time she'd had sex with someone she'd just met, and what she thought was a one-night stand turned into a four nights a week event.

He proposed after three months and they were married less than half a year later. She still wasn't sure why she accepted, or why he proposed.

She flicked her finished cigarette off the balcony and finished her beer. Tomorrow, she told herself, she would treat herself to a late night at Rosa's. Maybe she would run into something exciting, something new. Something good.

2006-02-17T01:05:00.000-05:00

I just spent about an hour writing a post, and then the library computers decided to reboot. So I lost it. It was a good one, too.

That's just how my night's going. Hugs appreciated.

2006-02-15T18:45:00.000-05:00

I had a dream during my 4-hour long afternoon nap today.

I was sitting at a bus stop, I don't know why because I don't take the bus, but I was and I was smoking a cigarette. A man came and sat down next to me. I knew who it was but I didn't say anything.

He asked for a cigarette. I handed him one and my lighter.

"I'm Emily," I said.

"Vitor," he said as he exhaled.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, inhaling and exhaling.

"Are you going to go home soon?" I asked him.

He was silent, then shook his head with a little shrug as if he didn't know.

We sat in more silence.

"Will you call your dad, or Rodrigo, to tell them you're okay?" I asked.

He was silent.

I reached into my purse and handed him my cell phone. He dialed, talked in Portuguese solemnly.

He handed me back my phone and started to walk away. I told him to wait, then gave him a pack of cigarettes and my lighter.

He smiled in appreciation and walked away.

I want to think that this means something, that he's okay. Hopefully he is. I do feel a little better, but I just really want someone to find him.

Vitor Franchito

2006-02-13T17:05:00.000-05:00

A good journalist keeps personal feelings out of stories. It keeps the story objective. You have to keep it impersonal.

I'm not a good journalist. I can't do it. When there's a story that involves someone or something...I'm covering a story, I wanted to, I asked to, about Vitor Franchito.

Vitor is a student here. He came to the U.S. in October 2002 from Brazil, where his fiance is now. He's studying to be a computer engineer.

He was last seen February 5.

He didn't go to Brazil, his monitored bank accounts prove that. His fiance said that water relaxes him, but nothing turned up yesterday in searches around Lake Johnson. Lake Crabtree is next.

His fiance went to a church yesterday in Brazil and a woman said Vitor is walking around, that his mind is lost. Someone told me that police believe he may still be in Raleigh, others believe that he's out-of-state. Some also say to look around D.C. because that's the last trip he and his fiance took before she want back to Brazil on Jan. 5.

I helped a friend of Vitor's hand out flyers today. This is what killed me.

Two people showed concern, about half ignored us and one even laughed and said, "He's probably dead anyway" as he was walking away.

Why?

Why can't people care? Why can't people at least try to help? Why are people so self-absorbed that when a person is in need they turn away to cry into their cell phones about how they don't have a date for Valentine's Day?

Everything isn't about you. There's a man out there, alive I know it, with family and friends and a fiance. All you have to do is keep your eyes open, maybe tell someone else about him, listen, do something other than live in your own ignorant bubble.

Please. Do something.

Suddenly, the Same Thing

2006-02-12T16:54:00.000-05:00

Suddenly, the Same Thing

By ETGAR KERET

"I just hate terrorist attacks," the thin nurse says to the older one. "Want some gum?"

The older one takes a piece and nods. "What can you do?" she says. "I hate emergencies, too."

"It's not the emergencies," the thin one insists. "I have no problem with accidents and things. It's the terrorist attacks, I'm telling you. They put a damper on everything."

Sitting on the bench outside the maternity ward, I think to myself, She has a point. I just got here an hour ago, all excited, with my wife and a neat-freak taxi driver who, when my wife's water broke, was afraid it would ruin his upholstery. And now I'm sitting in the hallway feeling glum, waiting for the staff to come back from the E.R. Everyone but the two nurses has gone to help treat the people injured in the attack. My wife's contractions have slowed down, too. Probably even the baby feels this whole getting-born thing isn't that urgent anymore. A few of the injured roll past me on squeaking gurneys. In the taxi on the way to the hospital, my wife screamed like a madwoman, but these people are all quiet.

"Are you Etgar Keret?" a guy wearing a checked shirt asks me. "The writer?" I nod reluctantly. "Well, what do you know?" he says, pulling a tiny tape recorder out of his bag. "Where were you when it happened?" he asks. When I hesitate for a second, he says in a show of empathy: "Take your time. Don't feel pressured. You've been through a trauma."

"I wasn't in the attack." I explain. "I just happen to be here today. My wife's giving birth."

"Oh," he says, not trying to hide his disappointment, and presses the stop button on his tape recorder. "Mazel tov." Now he sits down next to me and lights himself a cigarette.

"Maybe you should try talking to someone else," I suggest in an attempt to get the Lucky Strike smoke out of my face. "A minute ago, I saw them take two people into neurology."

"Russians," he says with a sigh, "don't know a word of Hebrew. Besides, they don't let you into neurology anyway. This is my seventh attack in this hospital, and I know all their shtick by now." We sit there for a minute without talking. He's about 10 years younger than I am but starting to go bald. When he catches me looking at him, he smiles and says: "Too bad you weren't there. A reaction from a writer would've been good for my article. Someone original, someone with a little vision. After every attack, I always get the same reactions: 'Suddenly, I heard a boom'; 'I don't know what happened'; 'Everything was covered in blood.' How much of that can you take?"

"It's not their fault," I say. "It's just that the attacks are always the same. What kind of original thing can you say about an explosion and senseless death?"

"Beats me," he says with a shrug. "You're the writer."

Some people in white jackets are starting to come back from the E.R. on their way to the maternity ward. "You're from Tel Aviv," the reporter says to me, "so why'd you come all the way to this dump to give birth?"

"We wanted a natural birth; their department here — "

"Natural?" he interrupts, sniggering. "What's natural about a midget with a cable hanging from his bellybutton popping out of your wife's vagina?" I don't even try to respond. "I told my wife," he continues, " 'If you ever give birth, only by Caesarean section, like in America. I don't want some baby stretching you out of shape for me.' Nowadays, it's only in primitive countries like this that women give birth like animals. Yallah, I'm going to work." Starting to get up, he tries one more time. "Maybe you have something to say about the attack anyway?" he asks. "Did it change anything for you? Like what you're going to name the baby or something, I don't know." I smile apologetically. "Never mind," he says with a wink. "I hope it goes easy, man."

Six hours later, a midget with a cable hanging from his bellybutton comes popping out of my wife's vagina and immediately starts to cry. I try to calm him down, to convince him that there's nothing to worry about. That by the time he grows up, everything here in the Middle East will be settled: peace will come, there won't be any more terrorist attacks and even if once in a blue moon there is one, there will always be someone original, someone with a little vision around to describe it perfectly. He quiets down for a minute and then considers his next move. He's supposed to be naïve — seeing as how he's a newborn — but even he doesn't buy it, and after a second's hesitation and a small hiccup, he goes back to crying.

****

Etgar Keret, an author and filmmaker, lives in Tel Aviv. An English translation of "The Nimrod Flipout," his latest collection of short stories, will be published in April by Farrar, Straus & Giroux. This essay was translated by Sondra Silverston from the Hebrew.

Can't Sleep

2006-02-10T01:16:00.000-05:00

There's nothing more beautiful than watching the stars.

I couldn't sleep tonight, and most people were busy either studying or sleeping, so I went out for a drive. I started off aiming for the highway, but ended up taking some back roads and found the perfect star-gazing spot.

There were some trees but not enough to block the view, hardly any lights around. I turned off my car and climbed on the trunk of my car, and laid down across the back windshield.

I spent a while just looking at the stars. I love them. I can't explain it...it's like Africa: I love it, I want to know everything about it, but I don't know why. I just know that the more I know about it, the happier I am and the more I fall in love with it.

I want something. But I don't know what it is.

Day of Defeat

2006-02-08T16:52:00.000-05:00

I am at the point where I want to crawl under my covers and hide from the world. Today has been filled with complete disappointments. Not only did I not do as well as I could have on my story that ran today, but I fucked myself over with a story that runs Friday.

The story is about student security for students living off campus. Simple. All I have to do is get in touch with some people from the Raleigh PD. No problem. I spend about 15 minutes getting contacts, only one of which actually talks to me.

The guy is from the District 26 Police Station. He tells me to come to the station between 9 and 5 and fill out a request form to get the statistics I need. This is at 3:35. I've got an hour-and-a-half to get down there, probably less because let's face it, it's a government office and they don't do anything on time.

So I get to my dorm, get my little notebook to write shit down on and look up directions. The website says it's on S. McDowell Street.

So I drive downtown, get on McDowell, and end up in a residential neighborhood. Obviously, I went too far. So I turn around, get back on McDowell, and turn into a government offices complex. I go into the parking deck, get a little ticket so I can pay for parking (not like taxes mean anything) and walk to the building.

It's not the right building. Holy shit, where the fuck am I? It's 4:15.

I call the office back to confirm that they're located on McDowell. They're not. They're located on Hargett, at the intersection of McDowell and Hargett. Where the fuck is that?

I get in my car and look around for some change to pay 50 cents for the whole 5 minutes I was parked in the wrong place. I pull up to the guy in the little booth, and realize I don't have any cash. And they don't take debit or credit cards.

"Um, I parked in the wrong place," I told the guy as I handed him the ticket.

"What?" he asks, staring at god knows what and taking the ticket.

"I parked in the wrong place. I just got here but, I'm in the wrong place."

He stares at me and starts to die laughing. He's still holding my ticket, hasn't swiped it yet, 5:00 is coming really fast, and he just laughs.

"Well it still says 50 cents," he said between paused laughter. "But I'll take care of it." He was still laughing as I pulled away.

So I find Hargett Street, and eventually find the police station. I walk in and there's a security guard sitting at a table beside a metal detector.

"What are you here for?" he asks.

"I'm trying to fill out a request form," I said. Obviously, not enough information. "I'm a writer for N.C. State University's newspaper and I'm covering a story about student safety for students who live off campus and they told me to come here to fill out a request form so I can get the statistics."

"You want records." He slid a notebook over towards me. "Sign that, put the time, put your purse up here and walk through the detector." I sign my name, make up a time which I'm sure was around 4:35, put my purse on the table and walk through the detector.

It beeps.

"Come back through." I walk through again.

It beeps.

"Do you have something in your pockets?"

No. I walk through again. It beeps.

He stands up. "Walk through one more time."

I walk through. It doesn't beep.

"Records is on the third floor, room 304."

I take the elevator up and walk to 304. There's a woman sitting there behind pictures of her with her husband and two kids.

"I'm looking for a request form," I said. She looked at me. Again, obviously not enough information. So I explain.

"Okay, do you know what block you need the information for?" she asks, picking up a piece of paper.

"Um, not really. I really just wanted it for the whole district. Is that okay?"

She stares at me. "Let me go check." She leaves for a few minutes and comes back, puts the form down and says, "We don't do that here, so let me give you a number to call."

I'll take that. That's fine, just give me something.

She hands me a number. I take the elevator back down and smile to the security guard, holding up the sticky pad with the number on it and say thanks. He nods.

I get in my car, get paper out with my questions and start to dial the number. But wait, I've dailed this number already. 831-6167...holy shit. It's the same number that I called, it's the district. It's the same guy that told me to come to the station to get a request form.

So I'm here, with nothing. One big circle, and nothing. I love how the government works.

Crash and Burn

2006-02-08T13:08:00.000-05:00

One of my story's got printed today and, reading it now, I fucked up. I could have done so much better, I don't know what I was thinking. Hopefully the people who read the story will be satisfied. One guy said it was repetitive and another read the first few paragraphs and handed the paper back to me.

Not good!!

2006-02-07T14:49:00.000-05:00

I'm really good at being a bad person and hurting people that mean something to me.

I don't do it and then feel bad about it. I do it and then I relish in it and I stand by it. And then later, I feel so guilty about it, and I want to take it back and apologize but there's only so many times I can say sorry.

My mom always told me that one of my biggest flaws is that I jump into things without thinking. If there's something I want to do I just do it, I go all out and don't hold anything back. And about half the time I wish I hadn't done it afterwards.

I need to improve myself. I was talking to a guy last night and he said, "I don't think it's a bad thing though wanting to change things about yourself, if you can't improve yourself, what's the point in trying?"

What is the point in trying? To make people like you? People won't like if you if you try or not. But I guess the point is to like yourself, and know yourself. If you don't like yourself no one else will, and if you don't know yourself you're going to do stupid shit and regret it later.

That guy also said, "I just mean that, at least as I look at it, people are who they are, and everyone's doing the best that they can."

I have to work on this.

I've Been Given the Bird Twice Today

2006-02-06T11:31:00.000-05:00

I realized that I'm a mean person. To some people. Okay, most people.

This hit me when I was walking to class today and I saw a skateboarder wipe out. I started laughing and said, "Nice job dumbass." For what it's worth, I didn't mean to say it, just think it. Okay that's a lie. But he flipped me off (#1 today), so that makes me feel a little better.

Maybe I'm not being mean. Maybe I'm just saying the wrong things at the wrong times. Except sometimes I'm intentionally mean.

I don't want drama. I'm tired of drama - I've had 6 years of drama.

I want fun, excitement, spontaneity. I want to wake up in the morning and not know what I'm doing that night but know that last night was awesome. I want to be tired because I'm living off 2 hours of sleep. I want to meet a new person every time I go out.

I found out this weekend that I can't stay in my dorm room. I hate sitting there at my computer and watching TV - I want to be out and with people.

The second time I got flipped off today was when I was crossing the street and I wasn't walking fast enough and the car beeped at me. Haha.

And I fell down stairs at Poe today - I hate those fucking stairs.

Let's see how many more I can get today.

It's So Hard

2006-02-02T19:13:00.000-05:00

Update at the bottom.

Today I am getting my first dose of "hard" journalism. I'm interviewing two people, two amazing people, within the next hour. These people are so far up that I am scared to death. This goes beyond the university, they're not even affiliated with the university except through someone else. This goes to L.A., to filmmakers, to people who have lived through hell and just talked about it on Oprah.

But my story isn't about their hell, it's about their film. And of course, the day that I get to interview them is probably one of the most emotional days they've had since Nov. 2004.

Is that going to make a difference? Is my asking questions, any questions, as a member of the press going to cause something bad to happen? Am I going to ask the wrong questions?

This is the first interview that I've had where I am so nervous that I feel like I can puke. I shouldn't be worked up about this - every journalist wants to interview someone that is important, someone that has meaning. This is what I want, but I'm so scared.

Okay. I can do this. Here goes.

****

Everything went great! I had about 50 questions worded in 2 different ways - one way was if the interview was going well, and the other way was if the interview took some bad turns. So I was prepared.

But I didn't need to be. He was a wonderfully nice person and he gave me great quotes and, honestly, after talking to him I'm feeling a bit inspired. Just what he said and the way he said it...not to be redundant but inspiring is the only way to say it.

Tonight was a big step. Two weeks ago I was both nervous and psyched because I was getting a chance to talk to "the big guys" - the ones who ran the university. And now I'm talking to filmmakers in L.A., guys who make national headlines.

It doesn't seem like a big deal to some people, but it is to me. I've worked so hard for this, I've wanted it so much and now I'm there. There's always something else, someone higher, and there's always a better story. But for me, now, this is as good as it gets.

Like my mom said, I'm floating on cloud nine. I feel successful and I haven't really started my career yet. My future's promising, I know it, I just wish it would start already. :)

52 Days

2006-02-02T00:59:00.000-05:00

It's funny how people change. I think it's even more funny when people change for the worse - not that it's something I enjoy, just that it's something that makes me feel good that I know who I am.

It's been 52 days, but I can honestly say it feels twice as long. So many things have happened, so many people have come into my life. I'm not living my life on a telephone anymore, and it's great because I'm living in reality and saving minutes at the same time. :)

The people that I've met and gotten to know are all amazing in their own ways, as is everyone. There's the frat guys, who show a good time whether they're throwing a party or watching t.v.; the genius who makes his own TIVO and movie projector; the guy that walks around with a cane, even though he doesn't need it; the girl in my golf class who talks the whole time; my editors who know that I'm not as innocent or as cute as I look.

I'm experiencing college the way it was meant to be experienced. I'm not passing up parties or lunches just because I'm expecting a three-hour phone call, and I'm not saying no to people just because someone else won't like it.

This time last year I was a nervous wreck - I was about to make a move that even now, after everything, I can't say that I regret. I can't regret living in the moment or chasing something that, even then, might not have been there.

52 days. They started off slow. They started off with tears and anger and an insane amount of rejection. There's nothing quite like it. It's nothing I want to go through again, no one does, but it's something I'm glad I went through.

Some of the feelings are still there, but only if I let them be. There are still a lot of questions, ones that I'll never ask and ones that will never be answered. There's still that sting you get in your heart when you hear or see something that may not be directed at you, but that still affects you. There's still that jealousy when there's someone else in the picture, someone that's good enough because they're better than you.

It blew me away from who I was to who I am now, a better person, a person that people want to be around. There's this weird confidence that comes after rejection and that's what I have now. I absolutely love it.

52 days later, I'm living in reality and I'm happy.

Everything's Going To Be Okay

2006-01-25T16:59:00.000-05:00

Today I realized that everything is going to be just fine. I had my doubts, but I can honestly say that everything in my life is exactly where I want it to be.

My story ran today, the "big one" that I've been waiting months for, and I've gotten such amazing feedback (minus my grandmother who said, "This is a great story and I'm proud of how well you presented this. News Editor next semester sounds good, but what about Carolina? In the job market, that will mean a lot.").

Sorry Carolina, you're not getting your hands on me. :)

This is what I want to do with my life. These past 5 days have been full of stress, pressure and amazingly frustrating experiences, but I absolutely loved every second of it.

It's that feeling I get, that I'm sure all journalists get, where you've called a half a million people and you've got all the quotes and all the information and now you have to fit it all together to make it work...I guess the only way I can describe it is the way my dad did: it's a rush.

It might be lame to get a rush from writing a news article compared to other things like sky diving and extreme sports, but I've finally found something that I want to spend the rest of my life doing. I'll be dirt poor, but I'll be happy. And hopefully I'll have a cat. :)

I don't need anything else, anyone else. It's always a good feeling to know that you have everything you need.

I feel invincible right now. I want every story to be mine, I want to get that editor position next semester and I want to do this forever.

I Can't Stay Here

2006-01-24T22:12:00.000-05:00

This day has been so crazy. There have been ups and downs like I have never had before, and I'm not quite sure where I am right now.

I slept through my first class because of stupidity - I thought it started a 10:15 but it started at 9:05.

If she didn't take attendance, it was a good thing I didn't make it because it gave me that extra time I needed to work on my article (which is printing tomorrow in the Technician).

My golf class was cancelled, which, again, gave me extra time to work on my article. Then I went to my night class, came back to the newspaper office and made sure everything was straight.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about it. I hope all goes well.

Right before I left the office, I talked to my mom. There's some bad stuff going on in the family.

One of my aunt's has been taking morphine and other drugs for the past two years. Where did she get the morphine? From friends and from my diabetic grandmother, who can't walk by herself and who carries around an oxygen tank.

She was exposed because she was arrested for driving under the influence.

To make it worse, she took her husband's credit cards and maxed them out without telling him, hiding the bills every month. Her husband wants a divorce now, but he can't afford it.

My aunt isn't talking to anyone but her daughter, 12, my grandmother, that she stole from, and her "druggie" friends.

All of this happened within the past few weeks. I just found out. That's the part that hurts most, that I just found out now, that they waited so long to tell me.

I want to slap my aunt and just ask her what she was thinking, but I want to kill her druggie friends. I've never wanted to physically hurt someone so bad.

Then Lucas called and we got some dinner and I come back and it's fucking karaoke night downstairs. The two whitest people in the world sing "Closing Time." It wouldn't have been bad if only their voices sucked, becaused, I mean, it's karaoke, you're not supposed to be good.

But they actually tried. They licked their lips and furrowed their eyebrows, scrunched up their noses and had these little sneers. It was...I don't even know. I don't know what was worse: finding out I have a drugged up aunt or having to sit through that.

It's a crazy day, and I've got another one tomorrow that's not quite like it but that will be pretty rough. Let's hope that I did well on the article, that would be a great thing.

Madison

2006-01-23T23:58:00.000-05:00

A town like Madison is one you pass through on the way to somewhere else. 6.6 miles after you enter it, you've left it. You can drive through downtown without even noticing, and the closest city is half an hour away with 221,000 more people in it.

The curved roads are bordered with fields that have barbed wire stretched out between wooden posts that are rotted and falling apart. The cows sometimes watch as cars go by; even they seem bored. The smell of burning leaves creeps into the car through the cracks in the windows, stinging the senses. The houses have more chipped spots than painted ones, and they all have front porches with beach chairs that the Madisonians sit in and wave as the cars drive by.

Sunday church is a social gathering instead of a worship service. All of the kids run off together, the older ones to climb trees and the younger ones to explore the dark corners of the ancient building.

After church is the Sunday lunch, where the grandparents and the children and the grandchildren sit on the porch and sing Johnny Cash to the tunes of a banjo and acoustic guitar while the food cooks in the kitchen. You'll never feel paradise until you feel the sun soaking into your skin to the strings of "Ring of Fire."

This is what happens when we study

2006-01-22T23:03:00.000-05:00

pig/boar noises

granola bar wrappers

the hulk drink/the woody allen hulk

Chuck Norris is like a dog, not only because he can smell fear, but because he can piss on whatever the fuck he wants.

I am so............tired

2006-01-22T10:43:00.000-05:00

Friday night I went over to Lucas' and played pool and foosball and then we sat in the car talking for like, 3 hours. Then last night I hung out with him and some friends and stayed out till 4.

I'm tired.

This Could Be Big

2006-01-19T22:51:00.000-05:00

Okay, so today I got a big story assignment. The guy who is now my editor had a story assignment like this. My editors recommended that I write this because I'm dependable, qualified and they think I can handle it.

I think I can, too. I just have to prove it. :)

Hmm

2006-01-19T14:43:00.000-05:00

So I realized today that I'm not the same person I was two months ago. I don't know if it's just because I'm changing or if this is who I was the whole time and I was just never really true to myself.

And because I'm changing I'm meeting people I never thought I would, and I'm becoming more open-minded and my perceptions are changing (frat guys aren't all bad, for one).

It's hard for me to care what people think anymore, it's easier for me just to shrug it off and honestly forget about whatever it is they're trying to get me to understand.

I want to travel. I'm looking into study abroad, and even though my GPA isn't quite there yet, maybe my "connections" and winning smile will help me out. I want to go to Africa. I can't give that one up just because I've always wanted it.

I want so much right now, and for the first time in my life I'm actually going to follow through with all of it.

Hell Yes

2006-01-17T18:39:00.000-05:00

Guess who's going to VEGAS?!

Oh my god

2006-01-17T12:14:00.000-05:00

I feel like the best form of shit right now. I have an itty bitty headache, my stomach feels like it's been through a blender, and I get lightheaded whenever I stand up. But it is so worth it.

First, Lara and Sara and I went to Applebee's and then to the hookah bar where we met up with Amanda and some other people (including a few cuties who just transferred from Asheville). We learned how to blow smoke rings and do that trick with the lighter where you hold fire in your hands.

Then Lucas called and me, Lara, Sara, Robbie, Laith and Aaron headed over to his frat house. He was still out shopping so we walked in and played some pool. Then Lucas got there and we each got a drink and started playing foosball. It was good to see him again, he looked good.

By the end of the second drink, I think I was gone. I only remember parts of the night - I had to go upstairs to go to the bathroom and I was laughing when I was going up the stairs but I don't know why, I hit the pool ball off the table, Lucas became my leaning post, and Laith help me put on my seatbelt.

Oh, and when me, Lara and Sara got in the elevator, there were two guys in it. One guy was a hot guy that I met when I was downstairs the other night, whose name he told me but I can't remember now. Starts with a "J." I asked the other guy his name.

"Tyler," he said.

I thought for a second. "Don't I know you?"

Somebody started laughing, it might have even been me, and he looked away. When I got off the elevator and he was on the same floor as us, I realized it was my RA. So I think I was trying to whisper to Lara that it was our RA and she was laughing and I was asking if she thought I was going to get in trouble.

And then I went to bed, woke up at 4ish thinking that I was going to puke, didn't puke, went back to bed, and here I am.

It was a really fun night and Lucas is such a great guy. It was a good night. :)

Partayyyy

2006-01-16T14:51:00.000-05:00

Oh yeah, with army guys :)

So I'm Sitting Here...

2006-01-15T18:12:00.000-05:00

...with a towel over my wet hair, eating mac and cheese and listening through the walls to Mr. Talent next door play his guitar.

Honest to God, I don't know what the hell the sound of a guitar does to me, but it does something. Acoustic guitars make me feel all relaxed and make me smile, and electric guitars just demand my attention for no real reason.

If I could spend forever with some guy walking behind me playing a guitar, I would forever be happy. :)

Done

2006-01-15T12:26:00.000-05:00

This is officially my two weeks notice.

Yesssss

2006-01-14T12:49:00.000-05:00

I lost two pounds. :)

So I'm Not Really Pissed

2006-01-13T14:02:00.000-05:00

Warning: this post involves my inflated head.

I had an article in the paper Wednesday (Colbert puts professor 'on notice') and I've gotten a lot of mixed feedback about it. And I found out that AP ran a story about it and last night at 7:15 it was the most emailed story. Which is good. But I'm very, very jealous. My writing is now being "upped," which is, in fact, a word.

That's it.

New Year's Resolutions

2006-01-11T12:00:00.000-05:00

I was sitting in my riveting "History of the English Language" class this morning and decided on my New Year's Resolutions. And only 11 days late, that's good for me.

Mostly, I want to just knock off things on my "To Do Before I Die" list. I've actually added a lot to it:

Learn to play electric guitar
Be on Leno
Publish a book
Hold a conversation in a Spanish-speaking country
Take dance lessons
Go to Africa
Audition for a play/acting position (New)
Spend a week/end at a Bed and Breakfast (New)
Travel to: Chicago, New York, and all the mountains in the U.S. (New)
Touch the Pacific Ocean (Done)
Go Whalespotting (New)
Get a byline in a national newspaper (New)
Get out of debt (New)
Get down to 115 (New)

Holy shit, I just realized how much I have to do. Well...good thing I have the rest of my life then.

Okay. I should go to class.

Fuck

2006-01-10T17:36:00.000-05:00

it.

Blue Eyes

2006-01-09T22:28:00.000-05:00

She was sitting on the subway, her legs crossed and her backpack on her lap. She had black curly hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. She had curly bangs falling to her temples and a blue knitted scarf with matching gloves. Her blue eyes were brilliant, startling almost, in sharp contrast to her dark hair.

He couldn't look away, even if he wanted to. She was mesmerizing, and even that didn't do her justice. All he could do was stand there, holding the metal pole and staring.

She pulled her bangs behind her left ear and looked at him, right into his eyes. Her lips parted, just barely. She blinked, but didn't look away.

The subway train jerked to a halt, moving every body forward. He kept his eyes on hers, even as her bangs fell back into her eyes. She brought her hand up and brushed them away. She offered a small smile, and it was all he could do to keep from pushing past the men in business suits with briefcases to get closer.

The doors opened and she slowly stood, throwing her backpack over her shoulder. She stood, still staring, waiting for the suits and cases to clear the way. Her gloved hand was holding the bar above her head.

The doors closed, and the subway jolted to a start. She looked out through the glass doors, watching until the platform disappeared and darkness set in.

He could see her face clearer now. The lights from inside the tunnel scanned her face. Her bangs had fallen back into her eyes, but she didn't brush them away.

As the subway train began to slow, she looked back to him. This time he offered a smile. She tried to hide her smile and looked away, only to look back and smile again.

The doors opened and she walked out, followed by more suits and cases. He lost his smile as fast as he lost her, and watched as she took a few steps onto the platform. She stopped and turned around as the doors closed.

She was still smiling. She raised her gloved hand and waved. He moved toward the window, watching as she took a few steps back.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, as the train pulled away. She turned around and walked away.

Job Hunt?

2006-01-08T19:38:00.000-05:00

I got my work schedule tonight, and I just can't bring myself to be happy about it. It's only 24.5 hours, but it's everyday except Tuesday (because I have a night class) and Friday. Five days out of the week, including my precious weekends, working at $6.05/hour just doesn't seem like it's worth it.

So I'm going to look around and see if there are any other jobs I can get, and if there are, I'm going to put in my two weeks notice (which I wouldn't but I signed a thing that said I would). So I've gotta find a fucking job.

Stuff

2006-01-07T22:44:00.000-05:00

So I'm back at school now. I have to tell you that tonight is so boring. I managed to watch "Dumb and Dumberer" (minus the ending) and I went grocery shopping - smart grocery shopping - and picked up some stuff. And, a trashy romance novel, but it was on sale and cheap. And, that's it.

Depending on how tomorrow morning goes, I might stop by the animal shelter to spend a few hours hanging out and working. :)

Another fucking semester. God dammit.

Back to School

2006-01-06T21:32:00.000-05:00

I'm heading back to school tomorrow! I got an email today about a guy from the Washington Post coming to campus to work with the paper, and the workshops start at 9. So I'll be leaving here at 5 am! :) I'll post again when I get there.

Epic 2014

2006-01-05T19:56:00.000-05:00

I was listening to NPR a while ago (I feel like I've written about this before) but I heard about this presentation called "Epic 2014" that's about what some people believe is going to happen to the media industry over the next decade. It's interesting. I can't say that I'm not a little worried, just because I want to write print media, but it could also open new kinds of jobs for journalists. You should watch it.

Epic 2014

Again

2006-01-04T15:43:00.000-05:00

I changed again, because I just got tired of the picture thingy not showing up, and I don't know how to fix it. :)

I'll blog eventually. Happy New Year, by the way.

Munich

2005-12-28T23:46:00.000-05:00

I just saw the movie Munich, and I have to admit that I am borderline terrified. It was just such an intense movie, probably the most unbelievable and violent 2 hours and 40 minutes that I've ever had. It was, however, good in that it portrayed real events and really shed the light on both parts of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and terrorism in general.

After watching it, I realize that I have been so completely sheltered to reality outside of the U.S. Actually, I haven't been sheltered, I've been an American: so oblivious and misunderstanding of anything that doesn't connect to me in some way. The worst part of my day today was getting in a disagreement with someone.

I don't understand much about the necessity some poeple outside of the U.S. feel to violently get a point across or to get revenge. I don't think I'm capable of understanding that as of now. But I feel like I need to understand it. I feel like I need to get out of the country and realize what reality is for someone else. Maybe that will help me understand.

Presents!

2005-12-26T15:03:00.000-05:00

Well, I got some gift certificates over Christmas, so I went out today and bought my wonderful knee-high, big heeled (but not as big as I like), zipper hooker boots. A few months ago I had some like it, and they just didn't work with me, but I'm hoping these will. :)

Christmas was wonderful! Lots of great stuff. I have to say my most favorite thing is a program my dad got me for my computer. It's a Spanish program and it helps teach pronounciation and everything. I love it! :)

I only have two nights left at work. Yep, that's it. Yay!

I talked with my cousin today (I call him my uncle). He's the Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Navy, specializing in Littoral and Mine Warfare. He works for the Department of Defense in the Pentagon. He gets to go to the Middle East next week! How exciting! I got to talk with him a little bit about things, not as much as I wanted, but I did get his email address.

I hope that everyone had a good Christmas. I miss some people so much. :(

Visiting Nanny

2005-12-23T09:47:00.000-05:00

Christmas officially starts for me today! I'm going to visit my dad's side of the family in Madison, NC. It's a few hours away from Charlotte, and it's really, really small.

My grandmother (we call her Nanny) is in the hospital right now with pneumonia. They said she should be released today, so that's good. She's had a lot of health problems, mainly diabetes and the effects of it, but she's one tough woman.

I most likely won't be able to answer my cell phone if anyone calls, that is if I even get a signal, but I have to work at 6 so I'll be home before then. :)

Hope everyone has a great day!

Boot Addiction

2005-12-22T13:19:00.000-05:00

I think I have a problem.

I was Christmas shopping yesterday, for other people, and I see these black boots on sale. They were perfect: zipped up on the inside, three-inch heels, long enough to reach the bottom of my knees. They were on sale for forty freaking dollars!

I was seconds away from buying them when I remembered, that I wasn't shopping for me. I was shopping for my parents. And I didn't have enough in my bank account to buy them presents and get the boots. I considered using my credit card, but...that's a different post.

I ended up not getting the boots. BUT I get paid tomorrow, so I might run by and pick them up.

I told my mom this story, and she said, "You're a nice, neat person. But sometimes you're weird." And then she said that weird isn't a bad thing.

What I'm trying to figure out is if my mom calling me weird is a bad thing. I've been called a lot by my mother (all deserved) but weird never actually came up before.

I think I might need a personality makeover.

It's Supposed to Work

2005-12-20T16:10:00.000-05:00

Well.

My car battery died the other day because it's an old car and when it gets cold out it doesn't always work. So my dad jumped it and now my radio/cd player doesn't work. I call the dealer and they say to look for a credit card-sized sticker in the manual or on the door of the glove compartment. If I don't have one I have to bring it in, they have to take the radio out and put it back in, about $80.

Of course, I don't have one. And I've tried 10 different random numbers I've found, none of them worked, and I guess I only get 10 chances to put in numbers because I can't put anymore in. So, good thing I'm working...stupid job.

And now I'm going to call RoadRunner to come out and fix the bad internet connection, the bad connection that we've had for over a year because my parents are either too lazy or too apathetic to care that they're paying for bad service. And I'll probably end up paying by the hour for that one.

Of...fucking...course.

Change

2005-12-20T01:53:00.000-05:00

Well, obviously, I changed my blog. I thought the other one was a little too depressing. :) Comments are doing funny things like always, and I still have a little bit of tweaking to do, but that'll be done another day.

Happy few days before Christmas!

Bad Journalism

2005-12-17T23:51:00.000-05:00

I've spent the past 51 minutes watching "To Catch a Predator" on MSNBC. It's a hidden camera investigation in which NBC's Chris Hansen and two others went undercover online in order to catch sexual predators.

One of the three posed as a 13/14 year old boy/girl and went into chat rooms. When men responded they set up a meeting place (a home covered with hidden cameras). When the men walked into the home they were confronted by Hansen, who asked questions about what their names and intentions were and a lot of other questions.

Then, Hansen told them they were on camera and that their information and pictures were going to be aired on Dateline NBC.

Now, there are a few things I have to say about this.

One, I think that's horrible journalism. There's a line that shouldn't be crossed and I think they crossed it when Hansen adopted the role of interrogator. I understand that the men are sexual predators and are no doubt doing things like they intended to do with other, most likely younger, people. But exposing them on national television goes too far in my book.

There are other ways to prevent these men from repeating their actions, and exposing them on a Dateline special didn't prevent it for at least one of them, maybe more. I think it was an attempt to up ratings and I think it's just bad journalism.

Two, I believe that there's something wrong with these men that is beyond their control. I think it can be classified as the same feelings and emotions that provoke a heterosexual's feelings for the opposite sex. These men's feelings aren't accepted by society, and I don't think they should be, but just going around calling them bad people and trying to throw them in jail won't get rid of the problem.

I'm not saying that pedophiles should receive sympathies but they should receive more help than they're getting. Their actions shouldn't be accepted by society but I believe someone needs to try to understand where they're coming from, because you can't help someone without understanding them.

Bottom line: the Dateline special was bad journalism and these people need help.

Nutcracking Dumbasses

2005-12-17T22:05:00.000-05:00

So, obviously I didn't get fired. In fact, my managers didn't even say one damn thing to me. But I still have a few more days left to try.

I saw the Nutcracker tonight with my grandmother. This makes the 16th straight year of seeing it with her. :) It was different this year though, like they changed some of the dances. Is it sad that I know that?

I've been thinking a lot lately (no comments) and I've been wondering what's wrong with me, like I feel lonely sometimes and I'm completely surrounded by wonderful people and it doesn't make sense to me. Maybe it's just a thing.

And, lastly, I started a new MySpace and this...dumbass...sent me a message:

Like the pic, so why no man? Hey whats up. Saw you on here and I liked what I saw and read. I am Randy 25 single white Male in Mebane NC, thats between Burlington and Durham. Well I like shooting pool, dancing, watching sports, Music, movies, and other stuff. Anyways if intrested let me know. -Randy P.S. You have an AOL, AIM, or Yahoo screen name I can message you at sometime?

First, he just pointed out his shallowness by getting in contact with me because of my picture. And then he can't even write a grammatically correct sentence. Boys are stupid sometimes and I plan to start pointing it out every time they are. So, be prepared.

2005-12-16T17:09:00.000-05:00

All right guys, I've got a new plan.

I have a job at Hecht's for the next month, and it sucks. I'm only really doing it so I'm not bored and so I can get some extra money. And I don't like the dress code. So, here's the plan.

I'm going to see how far I can go until I get fired. I'll wear outfits that break the god awful dress code and stand behind the cash register doing nothing until someone tells me to do something, and then go back to doing nothing.

The wonderfully tacky outfit for tonight:

Complete with hosiery and the always wonderful....blue eye shadow:

I wonder if I'll make it two weeks...

P.S. It's Green Day's fault.

2005-12-14T04:05:00.000-05:00

Well, my third semester in college is over. Thinking about it I've learned a lot (not academically, of course).

I think this semester was a rough one for us, and by "us" I mean the girls. :) I found out that if I didn't have Lara and Sara, I don't think I would have made it through the semester. I would have been fine just sleeping and watching TV, but it wouldn't have been good in the end. So I owe my two best girls a lot now. :)

I don't just owe the girls, either. There's a plethora of people that I want to make happy because they've made me happy. It means a lot to me that someone can make me laugh even when I'm down. I know it doesn't take a lot to make me laugh, but it means a lot.

I also learned that it's best not to make a plan. I had to learn this one the hard way, but I'm glad I did. Plans change, people change. Just because you're interested in something doesn't mean you're good at it. And just because you have something doesn't mean you'll keep it. Forever is never as long as anyone wants it to be.

I'd like to say that I wouldn't change anything if I could, but then I'd be lying. I would've changed a million things, things I said, things I did, things I didn't do, thoughts I had, feelings I felt. I regret things, mostly I regret not being what someone expected. I tell myself now that maybe I should've changed, but I know that I shouldn't change for someone else, only for me.

The last thing I learned, I learned from my dad. He taught me not to take life too seriously and not get discouraged. He never had the chance to go to a university, so he said to take advantage of it. And I am. Next semester I'm taking golf, tennis, spanish, editorial writing and feature writing. I'm most excited about golf and tennis. :)

2005-12-13T00:14:00.000-05:00

We would stand in the wind, we were free like water flowing down under the warmth of the sun. Now it's cold and we're scared and we've both been shaken. Look at us, this doesn't need to be the end. Just hold me while we're falling apart, just hold me when we both fall down. Tell me everything you want me to be.

2005-12-08T11:01:00.000-05:00

365 days ago today, I was straightening my hair and trying to find the right shade of eyeshadow. I had decided on an outfit, but I had second thoughts about ten times. I was so nervous I could have been sick at any moment.

Months of talking, years of being apart and it had come down to one moment in an airport.

What were we going to do when we saw each other? Would we hug and kiss like we always said we would? Or would our shyness come out and would we stand ackwardly, smiling like idiots?

We did end up hugging and kissing, and we stayed up the whole night in the lounge just talking and laughing. We made it to bed as the sun was rising.

The next few days were a blissful blur, we were each caught up in the loss of time together.

When it came time for him to leave, my heart broke as he walked away. I can't speak for his heart, but I like to think it was the same for him.

It would be two months until we saw each other again, and then another six months after that. A year after our first meeting would be marked by the worst and best thing in life: change.

Hearts don't change, they just get full of other loves - friends, a career, life in general. The love we felt a year ago today was as real as real can get.

11:11...make a wish.

2005-12-05T11:41:00.000-05:00

Em: i had a weird dream last night, i just remembered
Em: there were bears tryign to break into the house, and they got in, only they turned into lions, and one was like, attracted to me so he didn't eat anyone b/c he knew i liked the people, and then we watched tv.
Greg: see
Greg: you wonder why you have problems

2005-12-05T00:53:00.000-05:00

She told me that all the way back when she was a child, she had picked out her first daughter's future name. I laughed and said that I wasn't sure if "Emily Kate" went well with an Italian name like "Perillo".

Link

***Wonderful story.

2005-11-30T20:19:00.000-05:00

I went to a book reading tonight, by Ann Palmer. It was her book titled, "Realizing the College Dream with Autism or Asperger Syndrome: A Parent's Guide to Student Success."

I went in thinking it would be boring, just one of the four readings I have to go to for my creative writing class, but it ended up being so much more than that.

She has a son named Eric, who's a senior at NCSU, and who has autism. I don't plan on reading her book, as I'm not a parent with an autistic child, but if she ever writes a book about her son's story you better believe I'm first in line.

She read an excerpt from her book, and then told more about her son. He was diagnosed with autism when he was 2, changing the dreams she and her husband had for her son. One of which was him going to college. Generally, I guess, children with autism don't end up going to college.

But a few years ago, Eric got accepted into N.C. State. When he got his acceptance letter, she knew she had to start planning - one thing she said was that he could do calculus but he couldn't see his refection in the mirror and know that he needed to shave.

So they sat down together once a week and went over everything - time management, safety, everything. And they made a list of the things that he could do for fun that were safe. One of the things Ann Palmer mentioned was taking a walk over in Pullen Park, and then Eric looked up at her and was smiling, and she was excited because he was going to initiate something. He said, "And when I get a girlfriend we can have sex together." I thought that was cute and funny, as did most in the audience.

When it came time for orientation, she had to leave her son to attend a parent session. She saw him outside from where she was waiting, and she said he was kind of off to the side of the group and that he was doing what he normally does when he's waiting: he was pacing, talking to himself and kind of flipping his finger up in the air around his face.

She said she realized then how, weird, he looked, and she worried that the other students would see that and she didn't know how they'd react. That night she was talking with her husband about it, and Eric spent the night in the dorms, and she and her husband agreed that they weren't going to tell him not to do things because he is confident with who he is, he doesn't care what people think of him, he doesn't want to change and he's happy with who he is.

The next morning she went to meet him for breakfast and she knocked on his door and he answered with a big smile. She said Eric didn't usually show emotions outwardly, so she knew something was up.

He pointed to a NC State water bottle, and she asked him where he got it. He said he won it. When she asked him where, he said he won it because he was the "Best Male Dancer."

There had been a competition that night and, Ann Palmer said, after he showed her his moves she thought that he couldn't have been the best male dancer at N.C. State. She said she thought that they gave him the award because they could see he was different but that he was out there and trying and having fun, and that it felt like a gift and that they accepted him.

And, honest to God, I felt like crying, and I have no idea why.

I don't know much about autism. One of the kids I used to babysit had it, I don't remember what kind, but he was different. He was amazing at Chess and games like that, and math, but he didn't talk much. He would talk to himself a lot, when he was watching TV or playing himself in Chess. It's something I'd like to know more about, especially after tonight.

Like how does someone get autism? Eric has two siblings who don't have it, why was he the only one diagnosed? Guess I'm off to do some research... :)