This post is starting without any real direction. So we'll see where it ends up.
Last night was interesting:
I got annoyed and ranted and raved and vented and probably (at least on some level) scared the shit out of that dumb boy of mine. But that's neither here nor there. And not really what I want to talk about. Relationship problems are boring as fuck and usually resolved when someone stops being a dick. In this case it'll probably resolve itself when I stop showing the emotional range of a teaspoon, and he stops with the emotional range of a temperamental 14 year old girl. On her period. On her birthday. Which also happens to be the day of the big homecoming dance. When her boyfriend dumped her two weeks before. In order to go out with her slutty best friend. And her mom. Twice.
Of course, that's entirely exaggerated. But it was fun to write. So fuck you and except my charming metaphors.
In any case. I've realized that I get defensive and downright bitchy when people mention certain topics. Normally, I can blow off most of what people spew in my direction. I largely do not give a shit what anyone thinks about me (as I've probably mentioned before). However, the second someone starts questioning weither or not I'd help a friend/close associate/group I'm interested in while they're in need. I blow a fucking gasket.
It annoys the shit out of me. Because I KNOW if you even know half of the person I am then you'd know better to even suggest that shit to me. Or to insinuate otherwise. Because god fucking knows that I will be there to the best of my abilities. If I can't physically drag my ass over there under the guise of some lame ass excuse, I will electronically harass said person.
Unless due to other circumstances it is best for me to stay the fuck away. But that's not really the point of this.
Anyway. That shit annoys the shit out of me. It annoyed the shit out of me last night. And it's having lingering effects on today. So don't do that shit. If it annoys me for longer than a day, then you know damn well it'd annoy a normal person for a fucking month. And I can be a downright bitch when annoyed. Equal chances of passive aggressive bitchiness and ignoring your entire existence... actually those are probably one in the same. Oh well.
Either way, I've ranted to the internets about it now. I feel better. I also feel better 'cause of my silly extended metaphor of doom. Now, time to go watch pokémon and blow some stuff up in order to fully recover. Toodles internets, I'll probably be back sooner than normal. I have a feeling tonight will be interesting.
Quote of the Day:
"An effective way to deal with predators is to taste terrible."
- Unknown
29.10.10
18.10.10
Choices
Ha. Posting. Finally.
Thoughts:
Last time I said I'd try to fill in whoever still reads this blog with information from two weeks ago.
I lied.
You see, the thing is. I tried to write that post at least four times. At least. I have drafts saved everywhere of my thoughts on the matter. And none of them came out like I wanted them to. Most were angry. Some were accusing. None were flattering.
So I've just decided to let sleeping dogs lie. There's no point in my dredging up unflattering thoughts about the past. All in all, my college education is not at stake, and there were just simple misunderstandings. I've moved on, and there are other things to worry about.
Like the fact that course requests starting this week. And I have no idea what to take. Sure, I've already listed the courses that I need to take, but the rest of my courses are supposed to be electives. And I'm struggling with figuring out what to take. There are so many options.
The best idea would be to take classes that add to my growing understanding of different ways to craft the English language (read: more writing classes) It would probably help me in the long run no matter what I decide to do. There's also the option of getting some practical experience by signing up for an immersive learning project centering on writing and design. And it just so happens that I like both writing AND design. Then there's the option to take a bunch of 100 level courses to boost my final GPA and make me look all shiny and smart.
Option One leaves me with more work for my last semester, but probably a greater level of happiness and grumpiness as I struggle my way through news/feature writing. It also gives me a greater understanding of features writing in general, one of the branches in Journalism that I'm actually interested in.
Option Two gives me more options in general. I'd actually have practical experience in my field (something I'm severely lacking in). I'd also probably get a larger understanding of design principles, and thereby something else to add to my satchel of tricks. I'd also probably be a little happier 'cause I wouldn't be bogged down entirely by the overwhelming process of writing. I'd have a little design to break the monotony of pulling my hair out as I stared at blank word documents.
Option Three, again, offers a chance at a higher GPA. Fodder classes that offer a fairly easy A and thereby a greater overall GPA. Which, due to faults entirely my own, isn't as high as it could be.
Option three probably isn't going to be picked. I'd be bored to death taking 5 week classes that I've already taken in some form or another, and the extra GPA points really aren't worth it. I don't particularly give a shit about my GPA. I never have. Yeah, getting about a 3.0 would be nice, but that'll probably happen after this semester anyway. And my major GPA will probably take away most doubts in the first place. Either way, I've never really thought grades mattered much. Sure, having good ones will help get your foot in the door, but if you don't know your shit, no matter what your GPA says you're not going to do well. And if there is one thing that I've taken from these past 4 years, it's how to tell the flow of the English language, and when it's fucked up.
Which leaves me with options one and two. Option two is really really tempting. But not for the reasons it should be. Practical experience is nice and all, but I think I want it for all the wrong reasons. I want it for marketability. Not for the class and experience itself. Which will probably give me issues in the long run (as far as the class is concerned). And if I go with option one, I can take the final fiction writing course. Which, conveniently, is about flash fiction next semester.
I love short writing. Short stories, magazines, columns, feature writing. It is innately interesting to me. Something about having such pure mastery over the written word that you can get an entire story out in just a few words. There's no room for the superfluous. Everything has to be succinct and mean precisely what you mean it too. Every word counts, and every definition counts. In my head, it's the ultimate form of English writing. It's probably why I'm torn between English and Journalism.
Journalism gives me the shorter writing I crave. English gives me the storytelling. Combine the two and it works out perfectly. You know, negating the whole nonexistent income thing. I suppose I should just be happy I'm not a poet.
I think I'll go with option one. It'll be harder, most definitely, but that's never really stopped me from doing anything.
Now... to take care of that hold on my account so I can actually sign up for my damn classes...
Quote of the Day:
"When your work speaks for yourself, don't interrupt."
- Henry J. Kaiser
Thoughts:
Last time I said I'd try to fill in whoever still reads this blog with information from two weeks ago.
I lied.
You see, the thing is. I tried to write that post at least four times. At least. I have drafts saved everywhere of my thoughts on the matter. And none of them came out like I wanted them to. Most were angry. Some were accusing. None were flattering.
So I've just decided to let sleeping dogs lie. There's no point in my dredging up unflattering thoughts about the past. All in all, my college education is not at stake, and there were just simple misunderstandings. I've moved on, and there are other things to worry about.
Like the fact that course requests starting this week. And I have no idea what to take. Sure, I've already listed the courses that I need to take, but the rest of my courses are supposed to be electives. And I'm struggling with figuring out what to take. There are so many options.
The best idea would be to take classes that add to my growing understanding of different ways to craft the English language (read: more writing classes) It would probably help me in the long run no matter what I decide to do. There's also the option of getting some practical experience by signing up for an immersive learning project centering on writing and design. And it just so happens that I like both writing AND design. Then there's the option to take a bunch of 100 level courses to boost my final GPA and make me look all shiny and smart.
Option One leaves me with more work for my last semester, but probably a greater level of happiness and grumpiness as I struggle my way through news/feature writing. It also gives me a greater understanding of features writing in general, one of the branches in Journalism that I'm actually interested in.
Option Two gives me more options in general. I'd actually have practical experience in my field (something I'm severely lacking in). I'd also probably get a larger understanding of design principles, and thereby something else to add to my satchel of tricks. I'd also probably be a little happier 'cause I wouldn't be bogged down entirely by the overwhelming process of writing. I'd have a little design to break the monotony of pulling my hair out as I stared at blank word documents.
Option Three, again, offers a chance at a higher GPA. Fodder classes that offer a fairly easy A and thereby a greater overall GPA. Which, due to faults entirely my own, isn't as high as it could be.
Option three probably isn't going to be picked. I'd be bored to death taking 5 week classes that I've already taken in some form or another, and the extra GPA points really aren't worth it. I don't particularly give a shit about my GPA. I never have. Yeah, getting about a 3.0 would be nice, but that'll probably happen after this semester anyway. And my major GPA will probably take away most doubts in the first place. Either way, I've never really thought grades mattered much. Sure, having good ones will help get your foot in the door, but if you don't know your shit, no matter what your GPA says you're not going to do well. And if there is one thing that I've taken from these past 4 years, it's how to tell the flow of the English language, and when it's fucked up.
Which leaves me with options one and two. Option two is really really tempting. But not for the reasons it should be. Practical experience is nice and all, but I think I want it for all the wrong reasons. I want it for marketability. Not for the class and experience itself. Which will probably give me issues in the long run (as far as the class is concerned). And if I go with option one, I can take the final fiction writing course. Which, conveniently, is about flash fiction next semester.
I love short writing. Short stories, magazines, columns, feature writing. It is innately interesting to me. Something about having such pure mastery over the written word that you can get an entire story out in just a few words. There's no room for the superfluous. Everything has to be succinct and mean precisely what you mean it too. Every word counts, and every definition counts. In my head, it's the ultimate form of English writing. It's probably why I'm torn between English and Journalism.
Journalism gives me the shorter writing I crave. English gives me the storytelling. Combine the two and it works out perfectly. You know, negating the whole nonexistent income thing. I suppose I should just be happy I'm not a poet.
I think I'll go with option one. It'll be harder, most definitely, but that's never really stopped me from doing anything.
Now... to take care of that hold on my account so I can actually sign up for my damn classes...
Quote of the Day:
"When your work speaks for yourself, don't interrupt."
- Henry J. Kaiser
13.10.10
The Lauren Dailey Patented Method
My exploits amused me greatly. And this is a filler post until I can sit down and fill everyone in on the last week of my life. It was mildly eventful.
When Dealing With Non-Writers:
Him: What you do now?
Me: paper
Him: O?
Me: yes
Him: Going well?
Me: hi
Me: ok
Me: i'm just going to lay this out flat
Him: ?
Him: I do something wrong?
Me: 'cause i haven't been able to figure out a way to answer that question that doesn't involve stabbing and/or gratuitous amounts of stabbing. and no, you haven't done anything particularly wrong.
Me: i HATE that question
Him: O.o
Me: with a "i'm going to stab something" passion
Him: I'm sorry.
Me: lol not your fault
Him: I didn't know.
Me: just... avoid the how's it going question when i'm writing
Me: it ends in explitives and possible lead poisoning
You see, I become a horrendous prone to stabbing monster when attempting to write. Even if it is this shitty research paper. It's safer to just leave me the hell alone. Let me sulk and whine and make angry noises and type furiously and backspace even furiouser. Just let me be. Don't ask questions, you clearly won't get any answers. The compulsion monster has taken over and the Lauren who is a functioning member of society has left the building. Interrupting me is a conscious decision on your part and I can not fully be held responsible for any angry faces and/or noises I make in your general direction as a result.
And for god's sake. Don't ask me "how it's going" because all I want to do is rage. Rage, throw tantrums, and stab you with what ever writing utensil I have around. It's the most loaded horrible evil awful question you can ever ask me. If you wrote, you'd understand. But you don't. So just leave me in my horrible depression and angst filled writer's bubble. Eventually I will surface a worn and tattered socially functioning human being. Eventually.
Quote of the Day:
"what's the best way to say "i don't respond well to dumb ass mother fucking questions when i'm writing"
"stop talking, i'm writing"
- Lauren Dailey and Dayna Colbert
When Dealing With Non-Writers:
Him: What you do now?
Me: paper
Him: O?
Me: yes
Him: Going well?
Me: hi
Me: ok
Me: i'm just going to lay this out flat
Him: ?
Him: I do something wrong?
Me: 'cause i haven't been able to figure out a way to answer that question that doesn't involve stabbing and/or gratuitous amounts of stabbing. and no, you haven't done anything particularly wrong.
Me: i HATE that question
Him: O.o
Me: with a "i'm going to stab something" passion
Him: I'm sorry.
Me: lol not your fault
Him: I didn't know.
Me: just... avoid the how's it going question when i'm writing
Me: it ends in explitives and possible lead poisoning
You see, I become a horrendous prone to stabbing monster when attempting to write. Even if it is this shitty research paper. It's safer to just leave me the hell alone. Let me sulk and whine and make angry noises and type furiously and backspace even furiouser. Just let me be. Don't ask questions, you clearly won't get any answers. The compulsion monster has taken over and the Lauren who is a functioning member of society has left the building. Interrupting me is a conscious decision on your part and I can not fully be held responsible for any angry faces and/or noises I make in your general direction as a result.
And for god's sake. Don't ask me "how it's going" because all I want to do is rage. Rage, throw tantrums, and stab you with what ever writing utensil I have around. It's the most loaded horrible evil awful question you can ever ask me. If you wrote, you'd understand. But you don't. So just leave me in my horrible depression and angst filled writer's bubble. Eventually I will surface a worn and tattered socially functioning human being. Eventually.
Quote of the Day:
"what's the best way to say "i don't respond well to dumb ass mother fucking questions when i'm writing"
"stop talking, i'm writing"
- Lauren Dailey and Dayna Colbert
3.10.10
A whiney rant
Ha. Clearly I am horrendous at keeping promises to myself.
Here There Be Updates:
So, As of right this very moment I am sitting on my bed in my room at home staring out of my perpetually fogged up window. I wish this were an important detain, but really, it's not. It's just a view that over the years I have taken for granted.
Year after year the tree in our front yard grows larger and I can no longer fully see the houses across the street from me. I see snippits between the leaves, but that's about it. I'm sure I'll see them again once fall really kicks in and the leaves all fall off, but again, that's not important.
What is important, however, is that soon. Maybe really soon, I won't be "living" in this room. This house won't be "my" house. Eventually, an eventually that is fast approaching, I will have to make my own forays into the world and learn how to live on my own. And not a college dorm type of on my own. An on my own that doesn't involve me moving back home at the end of the semester and jaggedly trying to mash my piece of the family puzzle into a spot where its no longer fits.
And I don't know if I'm so independent as to be entirely ready for that.
By July (hopefully) I will have completed an internship and graduated. I will be one of... three friends doing so. Ray will be graduating after the fall semester, Brittany after the spring, and me in the summer. Thats it. I don't really know anyone else graduating. The vast majority of my friends are a year or so behind me in schooling. Theres not going to be a massive send off of, "hey lets keep in touch and hangout and explore our lives as newly freed adultlike things". There's no "hey, I'm not exactly doing anything yet either, want to be roommates?"
But then again, last time I tried that shit it ended horridly and I would have been better off moving across the country to reaches unknown without the safety net in place for all the good it did me.
But still, it'd be nice to know someone in a similar situation. Not a feeling of, oh hey you're going off to be all graduated and lonesome as all of your friends are still chillin back at school.
This blog has become epically whiney. And I feel the proper response is, for now, to quit worrying so much and grow a pair. Because growing up is a part of life, and it's not like I haven't been through this before right? You know, minus thew whole grown and with bills and loans to pay back thing.
Here There Be Updates:
So, As of right this very moment I am sitting on my bed in my room at home staring out of my perpetually fogged up window. I wish this were an important detain, but really, it's not. It's just a view that over the years I have taken for granted.
Year after year the tree in our front yard grows larger and I can no longer fully see the houses across the street from me. I see snippits between the leaves, but that's about it. I'm sure I'll see them again once fall really kicks in and the leaves all fall off, but again, that's not important.
What is important, however, is that soon. Maybe really soon, I won't be "living" in this room. This house won't be "my" house. Eventually, an eventually that is fast approaching, I will have to make my own forays into the world and learn how to live on my own. And not a college dorm type of on my own. An on my own that doesn't involve me moving back home at the end of the semester and jaggedly trying to mash my piece of the family puzzle into a spot where its no longer fits.
And I don't know if I'm so independent as to be entirely ready for that.
By July (hopefully) I will have completed an internship and graduated. I will be one of... three friends doing so. Ray will be graduating after the fall semester, Brittany after the spring, and me in the summer. Thats it. I don't really know anyone else graduating. The vast majority of my friends are a year or so behind me in schooling. Theres not going to be a massive send off of, "hey lets keep in touch and hangout and explore our lives as newly freed adultlike things". There's no "hey, I'm not exactly doing anything yet either, want to be roommates?"
But then again, last time I tried that shit it ended horridly and I would have been better off moving across the country to reaches unknown without the safety net in place for all the good it did me.
But still, it'd be nice to know someone in a similar situation. Not a feeling of, oh hey you're going off to be all graduated and lonesome as all of your friends are still chillin back at school.
This blog has become epically whiney. And I feel the proper response is, for now, to quit worrying so much and grow a pair. Because growing up is a part of life, and it's not like I haven't been through this before right? You know, minus thew whole grown and with bills and loans to pay back thing.
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