Post-school days

School is done with for the semester. It has literally been a whole day and a half and already I'm feeling a little weird. I'm positive that I won't be on the same campus that I have been for the last three years, adding classes and frequenting the library and the student store, experiencing late nights over an energy drink studying my brains out -- it's over at that location, at least. Right now I'm in a bit of limbo as I transfer from one school to the next (hopefully in the spring). I'm trying to figure out what next to do in the meantime. Considering that unfortunately I haven't been getting much satisfaction from writing lately (this semester was chock-full of writing, so much that rewrites and proofreading was out of the question) which is just... unheard of for me. Since I was thirteen, writing has always been a means of escape. My boyfriend suggested to me that I carry a notebook with me and set a number of pages to write every day and stick to it. The content doesn't matter, just free-flowing verses and phrases and observations and weavings of words, just to do it is the goal. So I will. Merely observing isn't enough; it is given life when on paper, even though it is frozen in space.

So that's what I'll be doing. Until I can get my transcripts together from this past semester, I'm also going to look into a dance class - what kind I don't yet know; swing? Modern? Jazz? Belly dancing? - and just... figure something out. More late-night bicycle rides? Reading more? The last thing I want is to go stale.

I don't know how you all do it.

Scattered about

I had lunch with my dad yesterday. I love my dad; he is seriously one of the nicest people anyone could know. At the same time, he's so nice a guy that he doesn't realize how nice he is, and that really bothers me. He's so unmotivated, yet he has all of these dreams in a trunk going unfulfilled. He's let too much time go by to achieve them. Hell, I am definitely his daughter. Wishing, hoping, thinking, praying. Worrying about time, doubting anything and everything, but actually doing?... Eh, not so much. I mean, I'm doing things I never thought I could, at the belief and persistence of others' encouragement. I hope though to actually give myself credit for putting myself out there and trying, even if it feels so half-assed at times. Ah, but my daddy. I'm learning more about him every time we have lunch together - which I'm hoping will be everything other week or something. I'm thinking it's probably one of the biggest favors either of us could do for ourselves.

In other news, I've unfortunately let indimidation get the better of me when it comes to writing. Writing for my peers has never been a pleasure of mine, but for the last fourteen weeks it's all I've had to do. Still, it's been interesting having people take apart my work, and taking apart theirs. I told my creative writing professor that as much as I hate receiving criticism, I appreciate going through the experience - and she said that if I want to be a writer, there are going to be all sorts of ignorant comments knocking on the door, and it's going to be my job to sift through them like a pro. I'm nervous, but I'll take it on.

In the last fourteen weeks, I've also learned that the short story is the format for me. Since I was a teenager I've preferred to capture moments, minutes, seconds, because those always stayed with me longer than an actual day, or week. Sensations from sweet to sickening still take me by surprise whenever I feel them, and I find them beneficial to my spirit (or something like it) if I can write about it.

With that said, life has been okay. It's at a little bit of a standstill, but for what it is work has been good, and most everything else has been neutral. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop in so many areas. Looking forward to the summer to be able to enjoy writing, and getting in touch with people, being a young and crazy twenty-something (like I ever was before; hah!). And oddly enough, I've been feeling something that feels similar to ... jealousy? And I'm not quite fond of it. Jealousy does not become me. I'll be through with it soon.

As of late

Life has been going relatively well. Heading towards the end of yet another academic semester, I feel as scared as I did going in. I will be obtaining a degree and quickly working towards another. I am proud of myself yet wish I did things differently (like spent less time toggling between YouTube and Twitter and did homework when I had the time). I am interested in seeing what the future holds, still as a student next spring. In one way or another, I'll always be a student. When it comes to writing, I'm still learning every day. At the same time, though, I'll look at something I've written between the 300 and 500 character frame and wonder how tired I was when I wrote what I did, because "I don't remember writing that". Yet it still read well. Someone tell me that's one sign of a good writer, please. Indulge me. In either case, at the end of this month it will have been a year since I found myself ducking out into the corporate stairwell, answering a phone call from Mali, being given instructions to log into Wordpress. It goes without saying that I'm really appreciative of the opportunity of building, expanding on, and retaining a voice.

Day job corporate bullshit has hit the fan, involving a new schedule (4-day workweek [M, Thu-Sa from 8am-7pm]) starting this coming Saturday, May 16. Me[and the rest of the staff]thinks that this is an operative motion to drive us out to avoid severance and unemployment - a thought that used to cripple, but actually has driven me to do better. I believe that I have. Lay-offs have come in quarters, as in of the year, so I'm going to brace myself for the next cut to pendulum swing at the end of June and take my head with it. If so, it'll be bittersweet; if not, same emotional outcome. You can't win and you can't lose with a pompous, indecisive, insecure corporation; you can only work with what you've got.

In my spare time, I've taken up running and working out with the goal of running the LA Marathon in 2010. Towards that goal, I'm working on running 6 miles in one go without effing with my knee (working on it!). In a little under a month, I'm planning on bicycling 100 miles as part of the LA River Ride. I enjoy being active, feeling strong. It takes away from the 8 hours a day my ass is glued to my desk chair, and I love the definition in my legs and abs (not done yet, but we're getting there). Ability does wonders.

Hopefully this blog will become more conversational to anyone reading, given the lack of time I've spent here. This year has been full of writing - with school, my day job, with reviewing and featuring. I've honestly never written more in my life, hence the disappearing act. When I do talk with others, though, I've been doing so over the phone, via IM outlets, email, etc. Going out. Having dinner. Spending the night. Going for a walk. Maybe I'm a little jaded, but I've become of the mind that blogging/talking about yourself is a bit self-serving, self-promoting, self-ego-stroking, kind of like masturbation. All of which is well and good. Still, it's rather nice once you find that someone else can mutually do the job for you.

Angry.

I bought a new computer last November. A beautiful Dell XPS, perfect hard drive space, easy functionality. Absolute perfection, until it began crash dumping me earlier this year. When getting files for an album I would have like to have reviewed what seems like eons ago (more like more than a week), my memory crashed in such a way that I can't start up my computer. AT ALL. My short story due tomorrow afternoon was on that computer, and I didn't get to email it to myself before it crashed. I worked my ass off on that assignment, and every other assignment, whether professional or academic. My music/work is on that computer. My brand-new computer = a piece of shit (which thankfully is still under warranty). I am angry about that.

A few weeks ago, the insurance company that I work for eliminated my job title. But I'm still a licensed auto insurance agent, so why not put me into the general queue for calls? The system is so regimented and without room for leeway and I'm pretty much shackled to my desk from day break to twilight. Today, I made it through the third layoff in less than six months. I am angry about that.

I feel rather isolated from my family because of where I'm apportioning my time. I am angry about that.

I feel thrown off from my schedule and don't even know what I should be working on. I am angry about that.

I really want to go to bed, but I can't afford it. I am angry about that.

Looking in

I had an interesting experience in my creative writing class tonight. Ah, creative writing. The perks of working towards one's English degree. Our weekly assignments involve putting together works (this week, a poem; next week, a short story; in the near future, non-fictional essays), and I was randomly put into a group with other classmates. Through random acts of conversation, I found out that I was the oldest person in the group (24). No biggie. What was a pseudo-biggie to me, however, was one particular nineteen-year old girl who reminded me oddly of myself when I was that age - talkative, green, and fixated on extraordinarily frivolous things. This was pretty much revealed to me when we were analyzing a descriptive poem on elements of heartbreak, when she blurted out: "Well, I've never felt that before, but I was transported to 'that place', so I think it was a very well-written piece." It was as cute as it was annoying as it was funny. I don't know if at nineteen I'd've said something to that magnitude, although I probably would have at eighteen. At eighteen, ignorance was bliss, but at nineteen I already had the privilege of being sufficiently broken, and would learn not to be so disappointed in friendships/relationships thereafter. Rest assured, I would rather be jaded, balanced, and know how to let go than feel torn every time something ends, like a poorly formed sentence fragment.

That said, it was just funny, and refreshing to acknowledge the space between 19 and 24. In part because of a really sheltered upbringing, I've slowly realized this as time has gone on. Tonight had a hand in cementing that - while I'm still struggling to find my sea legs - I'm such a different person than I was even three years ago, two years ago. Although work and school leaves me feeling out of place as an individual, I notice how more refined I am as it were, if not perfectly polished. I like myself a lot more than I used to, and wouldn't trade the progression with a younger person if you paid me.

I think that's it. I wonder what I'll realize when I'm fifty.

today, i must:

-listen to Oh No Not Stereo's LP and hammer out a skeleton for a review to complete tomorrow night
-work out in the gym
-write a "goodbye letter" in the form of a symbolic poem
-go grocery shopping after work
-CLEAN MY ROOM (the sign of a full-time-everything [employee/undergrad/writer] is a room that hasn't been cleaned in two weeks, but an obvious attempt thanks to the sight of clean laundry crumpled and rolled up in the tidiest corner of the room)

since school started, there doesn't seem to be nearly as much time in the day as i'd like - probably because i'm allowing myself to sleep this semester, and maintain my figure.

eh. i'm annoyed and reduced to lower-case letters. so long as no one judges me - let me have my lower-case letters.

TGIF

on my desk
frozen daiquiri-scented lotion
a Ziploc of dry oats & orange-flavored cranberries
cup of coffee
access badge
a pen
video iPod
PoliSci book
card to be mailed to my sister in Nebraska
sugar-free Red Bull
corporate letters to go out into the afternoon mail
Coach purse

inside my purse
sunglasses
makeup bag (powder, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lip tint, lip gloss, blush, mascara)
wallet
cell phone
antibacterial solution
digital camera
birth control pills
condoms
raw almonds
loose change
a pen
keys to my desk

this morning (before 7:15), i
compiled a list of shows going on on the east and west coasts this weekend for BeatCrave.com
did 45 minutes of cardio
cleaned the bathroom
shifted things around the room
packed my TRKFLD bag
got to work on-time, at 8:02am

schedule
break 10:00 - 10:15
lunch with Pop 12:00 - 1:00
break 3:00 - 3:15
work, or wait for calls to come in, or study, or write review on Serge Gainsbourg's posthumous CD release 3:15 - 5:00
en route to Sierra Madre via Metro 5:15 - 7:15
sushi.... perhaps?,
company, then sleep