You get four guesses which one I'm most like...and the first three don't count.
For those who hate guessing, it's Blanche. (And I'm sure it's no coincidence that I'm like Samantha's original older Sex and the City character, eh?)
To find out who you're most like, go to the Lifetime Golden Girl's page.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
If You Actually Care
So, yeah, it's been a while to say the least. The highlights to catch you up:
1. I'm working double-time...working hard to make my "dreams" a reality.
2. The Tigers are No. 25 in the AP poll.
3. The Cardinals FINALLY won tonight.
4. I met the son of the writer to It's a Wonderful Life.
5. I watched the Rockstar: Supernova finale with the cousin of the winner.
6. I found another gray hair on my head.
7. My legs were waxed last weekend.
1. I'm working double-time...working hard to make my "dreams" a reality.
2. The Tigers are No. 25 in the AP poll.
3. The Cardinals FINALLY won tonight.
4. I met the son of the writer to It's a Wonderful Life.
5. I watched the Rockstar: Supernova finale with the cousin of the winner.
6. I found another gray hair on my head.
7. My legs were waxed last weekend.
Monday, September 11, 2006
I'd Be a Sports Writer...
It was only a month into classes. And that day I had the lecture portion of my class at The Missourian. I didn't have cable in my bedroom, so as I pulled on my (probably pink) clothes, I listened to the pop radio station. In between songs, they had vague announcements of some airplane accidents in New York. It wasn't until I was just about ready to leave for class that things became clear to the DJs. The planes hitting buildings in New York was no accident. Someone meant to do it.
After watching replay after replay of the incident in Alicia's room, I sped off to class. The teacher took random attendance, so even though there was a major terrorist event, I knew I'd better get to Lee Hills Hall. But there was a note on the door...for us idiot "journalism" students who hadn't thought of reporting to the newsroom the second we heard of the attacks, we were all to report there immediately.
As my magazine friends and I made our way into the frenzy of MU news ed students, we were informed of where the school's "poster children" were. BJ was already at the Columbia airport -- and I can't remember if Nina and I actually found out that he was on his way there before calling the newsroom to see what they needed, or if we just made it up. But actually, it didn't matter. He was there, and I wasn't. Thus, that was the day I realized I would never win a Pulitzer. That was the day that I realized that there are some people who live for telling the amazing story. But that wasn't me. I needed the time to talk to people. To mull things over. To call my one New York friend (who was actually still in Australia) and see if her family was OK. I was not on my way to CoMo's tarmac. I was sitting in a cushioned spinning seat with my eyes glued to the TV.
And as the rest of my classmates/reporters buzzed around trying to do the story they'd been assigned, me and the rest of my beat sat around lifeless. We were the sports geeks, and we had nothing to do that day. Or for the rest of the week. Games were cancelled. Sports were put on hold. And as I clawed my brain for some story that I could do that would relate sports to the attacks, I began to see that it was a little fruitless. Sports was a game. It simply didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
Sure, I went on to get an internship in sports, and I still write sports stories today. But since that day, I've never thought it mattered.
After watching replay after replay of the incident in Alicia's room, I sped off to class. The teacher took random attendance, so even though there was a major terrorist event, I knew I'd better get to Lee Hills Hall. But there was a note on the door...for us idiot "journalism" students who hadn't thought of reporting to the newsroom the second we heard of the attacks, we were all to report there immediately.
As my magazine friends and I made our way into the frenzy of MU news ed students, we were informed of where the school's "poster children" were. BJ was already at the Columbia airport -- and I can't remember if Nina and I actually found out that he was on his way there before calling the newsroom to see what they needed, or if we just made it up. But actually, it didn't matter. He was there, and I wasn't. Thus, that was the day I realized I would never win a Pulitzer. That was the day that I realized that there are some people who live for telling the amazing story. But that wasn't me. I needed the time to talk to people. To mull things over. To call my one New York friend (who was actually still in Australia) and see if her family was OK. I was not on my way to CoMo's tarmac. I was sitting in a cushioned spinning seat with my eyes glued to the TV.
And as the rest of my classmates/reporters buzzed around trying to do the story they'd been assigned, me and the rest of my beat sat around lifeless. We were the sports geeks, and we had nothing to do that day. Or for the rest of the week. Games were cancelled. Sports were put on hold. And as I clawed my brain for some story that I could do that would relate sports to the attacks, I began to see that it was a little fruitless. Sports was a game. It simply didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.
Sure, I went on to get an internship in sports, and I still write sports stories today. But since that day, I've never thought it mattered.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
So Not LA
OK, it happened during every 10-minute break at MU. It happened when I went to the mall in St. Louis. And it even happened when I was eating at an outdoor cafe in New York City. But in LA? Never.
But yesterday it did. I unexpectedly ran into an old friend in the city. I was in K-Town getting my hair cut (and it's SO short!), when I heard my name. Turns out she was getting her hair cut that day, too. It had been over a year since we talked, so the four hours there flew by.
Crazy.
On a sidenote, after my roommies saw my new hair they told me I looked like an Asian Shirley Temple. SO not the look I was going for.
But yesterday it did. I unexpectedly ran into an old friend in the city. I was in K-Town getting my hair cut (and it's SO short!), when I heard my name. Turns out she was getting her hair cut that day, too. It had been over a year since we talked, so the four hours there flew by.
Crazy.
On a sidenote, after my roommies saw my new hair they told me I looked like an Asian Shirley Temple. SO not the look I was going for.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
It's Logical to be Mediocre
Up until a year and two months ago, my life had a definitive plan. Everything was laid out for me. It was simple and logical. Finish high school. Go to college. Join Teach For America. Now that all that is done, I'm lost. I've got no blueprint for life. What society does give me is the idea that I should be dating now, get married, and have 2.5 kids. Then, maybe I can join the rest of the adult population and get a divorce because he/I am having a mid-life crisis or decide "I never loved you." That's the only guidance life has given me.
But that's not good enough for me. I'm a woman who loves my ability to choose, yet I still desperately want a plan in life...just not THAT plan. If God were a life coach laying it all out there for me, I'd tell him "Whoa, Chucko...that doesn't work for everyone. You're gonna have to ditch that generic one and give me one that makes sense for me."
But God isn't channeling himself through Tony Little anytime soon. So for now, I'm stuck trying to pencil in my own plans -- to no avail. Every day is a different mood for me. Somedays I love my job, and I never want to leave Southern California. Other days I can't wait to leave everything that L.A. has.
I've recently decided that all this uncertainity stems from my inability to locate my passion in life. For the life of me, I can't figure out what it is that I love to do. Nor do I know what I'm good at. This week after tiring of writing at the full-time job and having a personal essay (nicely) rejected from a freelance idea I had, I'm feeling that I was never meant to be a writer. Then, I wonder what it was that made me want to be one in the first place.
Generally that traces back to 1st grade when Mrs. M told me I should be one. (See, I told you I liked plans laid out for me) But if she'd never said that, would that be what I thought I had wanted out of life? Would I write if I didn't care what others thought and didn't listen to them?
I don't know...so for now, I allow myself to be a mediocre writer because I'm not sure I love it. And I haven't stumbled upon the next step yet.
But that's not good enough for me. I'm a woman who loves my ability to choose, yet I still desperately want a plan in life...just not THAT plan. If God were a life coach laying it all out there for me, I'd tell him "Whoa, Chucko...that doesn't work for everyone. You're gonna have to ditch that generic one and give me one that makes sense for me."
But God isn't channeling himself through Tony Little anytime soon. So for now, I'm stuck trying to pencil in my own plans -- to no avail. Every day is a different mood for me. Somedays I love my job, and I never want to leave Southern California. Other days I can't wait to leave everything that L.A. has.
I've recently decided that all this uncertainity stems from my inability to locate my passion in life. For the life of me, I can't figure out what it is that I love to do. Nor do I know what I'm good at. This week after tiring of writing at the full-time job and having a personal essay (nicely) rejected from a freelance idea I had, I'm feeling that I was never meant to be a writer. Then, I wonder what it was that made me want to be one in the first place.
Generally that traces back to 1st grade when Mrs. M told me I should be one. (See, I told you I liked plans laid out for me) But if she'd never said that, would that be what I thought I had wanted out of life? Would I write if I didn't care what others thought and didn't listen to them?
I don't know...so for now, I allow myself to be a mediocre writer because I'm not sure I love it. And I haven't stumbled upon the next step yet.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Yes, I Know
Of course I realize I haven't posted lately. I want to post a million things. So much is going on in JaynarWorld.
But I'm exhausted. And I have a (freelance) story that must be written.
More TK.
But I'm exhausted. And I have a (freelance) story that must be written.
More TK.
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