Everything you didn't want to know
Urgent Cellphone Update
The good news is, I'm getting a new cell phone. The bad news is my current phone will not work right now, and the other one is en route. It's being mailed to me, so here's hoping it gets here quickly and that my parents didn't get me something stupid. (explanation: Before I left, they were considering getting the Disney phone plan for price reasons)
My phone number will stay the same, but give me a few days before you expect me to answer your calls.
The Roommate
Well, The Roommate and I have survived the first week of living together. "How's it going?" everyone wants to know. Well, she's no Amy, or Meaghan, or even Steph. She's kinda like a ghost. You'll sense her presence, she'll turn stuff on and off and open doors, but doesn't ever really interact with you. She's made my room smell funny with all her hairspray and body spray, etc, and most of her clothes were bought at Victoria Secret. She is fromm the StL area, she's Asian and skinny as all get out, and reminds you in every way of a sorority girl.
"Are you getting along" you may ask? Uh...I guess? She treats me, as Adam so cleverly put it, like something that came with the room, a desk or a chair maybe. My addition is that she regards me like a minimum-needs Tamagotchi; she's required to interact with me periodically, but the rest of the time I just sit there.
And I swear I'm going to have to kill her if she continues "watching" marathons of "The Simple Life," "Next," "My Super Sweet Sixteen," or MTVu. I say "watching" because she doesn't actually seem to ever LOOK at the tv, but she'll turn it on for hours, and if I turn it off while she's gone, she'll immediately turn it back on. And if she walks out of the room, she'll rewind her DVD of "The Simple Life," and make me listen to it all over again, while she seemingly is oblivious to it. And I hate her cell phone's ring; her boyfriend, who is in the Navy basic right now, calls her 4-5+ times a day, and her phone rings to this song. At first it sounds cute, but when you listen to the lyrics, it's downright depressing... something like "you're beautiful and wonderful but you aren't in love with me..." blah blah blah.
She goes out at night (out of the 7 she's been here, she's been out 4? 5?) which is actually totally fine with me. (She hasn't yet come home from wheverever she went last night). I don't care if she goes out. What I'm having issues with is that she then sleeps all day ("does she go to class?" you ask? I have no idea. I go to class, she's asleep, when I come back, she might be here, she might not. I've seen her doing homework once, during the "Simple Life" marathon). And I don't even mind her sleeping, except I feel like I have to be ridiculously quiet to be nice. Which kinda sucks, when that's all you are doing.
But other than that, yea we're peachy. Maybe she'll move out next week.
Copie-edDyting
I have started my copyediting shifts at the Mo'ian. I was completely terrified..literally shaking in my snowboots.
But, y'know, I think it is going to be okay. Every thursday I have to work an 8 hour nightside shift, but I find myself actually looking forward to it. A copyeditor writes headlines, photo captions, etc, and edits and cuts for length all stories for the next day's paper. Because I work nightside, I'll work primarily with hard news and wirecopy. It is a job that, done right, no one will notice. (my goal is to not write any headlines worthy of Jay Leno).
I'm pretty good at it, so far. My first night, I ended up with three headlines above the fold (not that anything I write will affect that), and one of those headlines was a part of a package that I had to write a good bit for. The work is challenging and fluid, and, best part, I don't feel like I'm ruining the paper if I ask a question. No one is out to get me this time; copyeditors have to work as a team to get the thing done before midnight. Sure, there is still a ton of pressure, but I work a set schedule and won't have anyone cavetching at me for no reason. If I screw up, I'll know it.
I feel so much better.
So then Orlando Bloom kicks her in the Baby!...
My class schedule is a bit crazy for the first two months. I've got tons of reading, and every weekend in February I'll be attending a different play and reviewing it. Thursdays, I literally run from class to class from 11 to midnight..with about half an hour for a quick lunch and enough time for me to drop off my books at home before I go to the Mo'ian. All of my professors seem awesome, though. My Ancient Novel professor compared the first novel ever written to "Pirates of the Caribbean" -- the whole classperiod -- and even threw in her attempt at a karate side-kick. My theater criticism class looks interesting, if tough, and I'm excited about the professor (and we even do a bit of acting in class...it's been so long since I've gotten to act!). I'm interested in the community journalism course, especially since the professor seems really down-to-earth; though I do have to figure out when I am going to do the mantatory "field trip" for a week to intern at a small town paper (oy vey).
On top of those 'regular' classes, I start my Stress Management class tomorrow. We're supposed to learn yoga, meditiation, and other techniques to keep my head from blowing up. That ends in the beginning of March. I'm also taking another one-hour course, on "financial survival," about all that real-world stuff that I dont' understand, like credit scores and loans and taxes and whatnot. Though dry, I expect that class to save my butt. I don't want to plunge blind into the real world.
Bridge to Nowhere
Speaking of plunging blind into the real world, I realized recently how close to graduating I am *dur*. I am completely lost. I mean, until now, I've always known exactly what would come next. You go to kindergarten, then you go to first grade, then second, then you end up in college, and then.... and then what? I know it's "get a job" but that's really vague, and that's a really long time we are talking about for the whole plan to be "get a job." Right now, I don't even know what job I want -- it's sorta a toss up -- and I'm terrified I won't even be able to get one. I've applied to 10 internships for this summer as of yesterday, and my first response back was a "sorry, no luck this time" from the Post-Dispatch. What if all the naysayers are right and the industry is vanishing? Then what am I supposed to do? And what if the "get a job" plan requires I move all over the country, away from my friends and family? Since I seem to be total crap at keeping in touch with friends, that leaves me kinda on my own.
I don't know what I'm trying to say, except that I'm really scared of whatever comes after graduation. I mean, I've been preparing for this my whole life, and I don't even know what 'this' is supposed to be or what else is supposed to matter. "Oh, you decide that for yourself"...yea, well, I don't know what matters to me right now. Nothing against Adam or anyone else, but I'm not ready for the marriage and kids boat, but I also don't want to end up all alone in a strange city/town/whatever. I don't know if I have it in me to be one of the "sex and the city" single career women, and I don't know what else there is.
I feel like I'm about to be pushed off a bridge.
*EDIT* Last night, after business hours, I submitted an application for an unpaid internship at Dallas' city magazine. I didn't expect an answer any time soon, because, you know, after business hours, it's a weekend, and applications are boring so I figured they'd ignore it for awhile...a few weeks maybe. While I was typing this post, I got an email from them, asking if I could come speak to them in person! EEP!

3 Comments:
i'm sorry i left como and left you to the fate of a roommate like that. i guess we were just incredibly lucky to have gotten along so well.
I sent you a letter in the mail. Have you gotten it yet?
We just act like the other isn't really there. ... and we were danged lucky!
we were lucky, and i'm quite grateful for it. yes, i just got your letter. a response is in the works, but i must find some stamps.
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