It will never cease to amaze me, cliche though it sounds, of how desperate and petty people can be during arguments.
Just because someone is mad does not automatically give them the right to begin a public war of bullshit and slander. Especially when the attacker forgets the one crucial rule to being petty: Know your enemies secrets. Just directing general "fuck you"'s and snide comments doesn't get the job done. Not that I condone jabs and stabs at people, but when it happens, I do like to see it done right. So, get to know your attackee. You never know if a best friend might end up a foe. But make sure you don't let your secrets out. That would be a bad idea. If you were base enough to slip up and let details out...all you could do in a fight would be to defend your actions, to essentially do the dirty work and make yourself look scummy. And that only makes you seem, how to put it, Foolish.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Poor little Rich Girl
I desperately need a job.
I've applied to over twenty jobs since the beginning of June and only heard back from the Gap, who informed me that they were reviewing applications for the next few weeks.
I have student loan debt that's going to amount to over $250,000.00 after I graduate in 2011, and I would like to start saving money up for that and/ or be able to feed myself. But no, it apparently does not work out that way. Which is quite disheartening. I have 'skills' in reception and bookkeeping from a job I had for five years back in CT, and one would think that a job that would involve those skills would be found all over Boston. But not so. No, there's no room for me in the workforce, and I hate it. I hate sleeping all day, because I want to do things. I haven't worked the whole entire previous school year, except for a brief interlude during winter break when I arranged fruit back home. I need money, and while I would hope that writing somehow could pay the bills, it doesn't. Neither does art. Or Russian.
So, I might have to go back to CT for the rest of the summer to make some money. Which would be far from terrible, except that I'm pretty positive I'd be missing some very big things going on up here in Somerville.
And I refuse to work at Starbucks. Because everyone works there. EVERYONE.
If only I still went to church, if only our economy wasn't about to collapse under the weight of massive debt and stupidity on the part of the stock market. Those were the days.
I've applied to over twenty jobs since the beginning of June and only heard back from the Gap, who informed me that they were reviewing applications for the next few weeks.
I have student loan debt that's going to amount to over $250,000.00 after I graduate in 2011, and I would like to start saving money up for that and/ or be able to feed myself. But no, it apparently does not work out that way. Which is quite disheartening. I have 'skills' in reception and bookkeeping from a job I had for five years back in CT, and one would think that a job that would involve those skills would be found all over Boston. But not so. No, there's no room for me in the workforce, and I hate it. I hate sleeping all day, because I want to do things. I haven't worked the whole entire previous school year, except for a brief interlude during winter break when I arranged fruit back home. I need money, and while I would hope that writing somehow could pay the bills, it doesn't. Neither does art. Or Russian.
So, I might have to go back to CT for the rest of the summer to make some money. Which would be far from terrible, except that I'm pretty positive I'd be missing some very big things going on up here in Somerville.
And I refuse to work at Starbucks. Because everyone works there. EVERYONE.
If only I still went to church, if only our economy wasn't about to collapse under the weight of massive debt and stupidity on the part of the stock market. Those were the days.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Whatever happened to Johnny Lee Miller?
No one will ever really know. Nor will anyone know why the fuck I was stuck in Malden en route to Davis Square for an hour. Seriously.
But, because of it- the loss of my 5 dollars, and the realization that I should cut down on smoking and drinking because neither effect me much, I did learn one or two things.
First, cabbies are God's gift to human-kind. Wonderful beacons of hope that they are, somehow they ( and especially in tonight's scenario) can calm you down, make you laugh and allow you a few briefs moments of absolute mindless-ness before you pay them and walk up into your apartment, realizing as you trudge up the stairs how very close you came to getting stuck in the middle of Boston on a Friday night with two people drunkenly flirting with each other.
Leading into my second point...
No matter how much one knows that it's a terrible and stupid thing to envy drunken flirting- or more ; it really, truly nags at the being of one's core of how lonely a person can be. Simply because you know it is a temporary period, gone with the last remnants of a high blood alcohol ratio, but it reminds ( me, at least) that those two people are together ( although just for a fleeting moment) and that you, sober and aware of your surroundings are not with someone, or anyone- that at least they are with each other, and not hermit like in a state of 'why me?'.
For the original two questions, I blame it on the American way of life. Miller lost a career due to a lippy actress outshining him, and I was trapped in Malden- which, by the by, is actually a wrinkle in time where my friends and I traveled through Rhode Island and southern Connecticut- because of a need, if a facetious and childish need, to celebrate the Fourth of July and get hammered.
But, because of it- the loss of my 5 dollars, and the realization that I should cut down on smoking and drinking because neither effect me much, I did learn one or two things.
First, cabbies are God's gift to human-kind. Wonderful beacons of hope that they are, somehow they ( and especially in tonight's scenario) can calm you down, make you laugh and allow you a few briefs moments of absolute mindless-ness before you pay them and walk up into your apartment, realizing as you trudge up the stairs how very close you came to getting stuck in the middle of Boston on a Friday night with two people drunkenly flirting with each other.
Leading into my second point...
No matter how much one knows that it's a terrible and stupid thing to envy drunken flirting- or more ; it really, truly nags at the being of one's core of how lonely a person can be. Simply because you know it is a temporary period, gone with the last remnants of a high blood alcohol ratio, but it reminds ( me, at least) that those two people are together ( although just for a fleeting moment) and that you, sober and aware of your surroundings are not with someone, or anyone- that at least they are with each other, and not hermit like in a state of 'why me?'.
For the original two questions, I blame it on the American way of life. Miller lost a career due to a lippy actress outshining him, and I was trapped in Malden- which, by the by, is actually a wrinkle in time where my friends and I traveled through Rhode Island and southern Connecticut- because of a need, if a facetious and childish need, to celebrate the Fourth of July and get hammered.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
I really am a terrible person.
Sometimes, I really feel bad for people who don't wear make up or know how to correctly dress themselves, and I mean, it isn't like I'm Coco Chanel or anything...but, really? Seriously going to leave the house like that? It may be me, me and my crazy old ideas about being- I don't know, let us say...half way decent- but I earnestly do not understand how some people think that they can rock the unkempt brow, washed out face-with-tooth paste in the corner of the mouth look. Either that, or I have some dignity left for how I look.
Example: Going out on a blind date, wearing a hooded sweatshirt from a choir group, with saggy flared jeans. Except, the pants aren't even flared-because the girl who put them on decided it would be a 'wicked great' idea to roll the pant legs up. And even then, the rolled up cuffs aren't at the same level, and not rolled up neatly. Completing the look was a pair of black, dingy knee socks and sneakers.
At first, I get this wave of " Oh my lord, what is she wearing?". Then, the initial 'what the fuck' flash is followed by a surge of pity. Pity that this girl doesn't care about her appearance, and/ or no one ever informed her of how to look presentable; that she might wander through life never knowing that she looks like an 11 year old boy, or that her mom jeans are slowly turning into relaxed painter's pants, or that generally, no one is impressed immediately with character.
Then...I realize who the person is. Usually, the bad dresser legion is filled with girls who don't care about what they look like, because they 'have a great personality'.
What in God's name is this? She leaves for her blind date at some classy dinner joint and comes back with a new man in tow, still with her goddamned stretch jeans.
Utter bullshit. I hate great personalities. It's the downfall of society.
Why wear a business suit to a job interview, when you can wear khaki elastic waists slacks and fleece? Oh, that's right. To look professional and presentable.
"You mean, I can buy REAL denim? Not Wal-Mart brand Faded Glory whatever the hell it is look a like jeans? No. I don't believe it. Won't be comfortable, and comfortable is key."
Suck it up, buy some real clothes and ditch the pseudo self confidence routine.
Example: Going out on a blind date, wearing a hooded sweatshirt from a choir group, with saggy flared jeans. Except, the pants aren't even flared-because the girl who put them on decided it would be a 'wicked great' idea to roll the pant legs up. And even then, the rolled up cuffs aren't at the same level, and not rolled up neatly. Completing the look was a pair of black, dingy knee socks and sneakers.
At first, I get this wave of " Oh my lord, what is she wearing?". Then, the initial 'what the fuck' flash is followed by a surge of pity. Pity that this girl doesn't care about her appearance, and/ or no one ever informed her of how to look presentable; that she might wander through life never knowing that she looks like an 11 year old boy, or that her mom jeans are slowly turning into relaxed painter's pants, or that generally, no one is impressed immediately with character.
Then...I realize who the person is. Usually, the bad dresser legion is filled with girls who don't care about what they look like, because they 'have a great personality'.
What in God's name is this? She leaves for her blind date at some classy dinner joint and comes back with a new man in tow, still with her goddamned stretch jeans.
Utter bullshit. I hate great personalities. It's the downfall of society.
Why wear a business suit to a job interview, when you can wear khaki elastic waists slacks and fleece? Oh, that's right. To look professional and presentable.
"You mean, I can buy REAL denim? Not Wal-Mart brand Faded Glory whatever the hell it is look a like jeans? No. I don't believe it. Won't be comfortable, and comfortable is key."
Suck it up, buy some real clothes and ditch the pseudo self confidence routine.
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