I suck at blogging. I try to remind myself that part of the reason I got through high school was by keeping a journal, and for some reason the argument never sticks. And I have no idea why today is the day I suddenly chose to update. Prepare for some randomosity. I need to let it all out.
My brain has given up. Missourian, can I please just leave you by the roadside? Thanksgiving break is calling to me and I already feel doped up on triptafen. I don't want to write a story about public art at fire stations. I don't want to call people I don't know. Whine. Yes, I realize as a journalist this is a job requirement, and normally I don't have a problem with it, promise. I'm just full of complaints today.
Portfolio review on Monday consisted of my editor trying to convince me magazines only write about home decor. Do I want to write for Home & Garden? Don't think so. And why don't I want to write for a newspaper? Because I don't want to feel exhausted and strained every. single. day. of. my. life. And why don't I take criticism personally or cry every time Liz invites me to her office? Because for some reason I find it easy to put up a wall against her insanity. She knows nothing personal about me and I plan to keep it that way. If I want someone to write me a recommendation, I'll just kick ass in Jacqui's class and have her do it. She's a driven women with a steady head on her shoulders, and I won't ever have to hear about her cat or her want of a massage while she edits my work. Grace à dieu. Pulitzer vs. copy editor. I think the award might hold a little more weight. Could be wrong, though.
Roommates. Please ask me when you want to invite 25 people to our house for a pre-Thanksgiving dinner. It's just common fucking courtesy. Thank you.
My left headlight is out, my windshield wipers fail and my alignment is all off. I wish I was mature enough to know where to go to fix my car without daddy leaning over my shoulder. Then I wouldn't have to worry about a sore left arm after holding the steering wheel straight for four hours.
I know the election is over, but can I just mention that Sarah Palin scares me? Not only in her incredible ignorance of foreign and even domestic affairs, but also in her religious views. We're discussing her church affiliations in my Haunting & Healing religious studies class, and the Third Wave terrifies me. Think Jesus Camp. Think world domination. Think spiritual warfare. Think exorcism. Think bleeegh. I will not let them take over the government to hand the country over to Jesus upon his return. No thank you. The church that served as the foundation of their beliefs calls it heresy. Hello? (I know this sounds biased and ignorant, and that's because it is. I'm sure there are many nice, normal, only moderately-enthused Third Wavers. But according to stereotypes, this shit is scary.)
I just feel the whole accountability thing and improving your own life gets dismissed when we start talking about demonic forces controlling our actions. And that isn't simply a Third Wave belief. Depression demons. Alcoholism demons. Jealousy demons. Anger demons. Come on, people. We make awful decisions. Let's be responsible and acknowledge our failures. You can't exorcise my sarcastic personality away. It's not an infestation. You can't say a demon caused the end of my five-year relationship. That's just ridiculous. We did, Zach and I. People make choices to behave in certain ways, and for that they should be held accountable. I have no problem with God. No problem with looking to a higher power for guidance, believing that there is a plan, but don't let that be an excuse for treating other people or even yourself like crap.
New subject. An embarrassing admission: I really like to watch Jon and Kate Plus 8 on TLC. They showed their vow renewal event in Hawaii on Monday night, and their children are so adorable. They make me want a huge family (perhaps not eight, but more than I had originally planned). What's worse is they make me want to have a huge family with Sayeed. :sigh: I just keep digging my own grave, deeper and deeper. By the end of undergrad I'll be halfway to the Earth's core. At least that's what I'm shooting for.
Depressing. I think I'll leave it on that bittersweet note.
