Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Better get some shit done

It sounds as if we are having the same kind of week, Ritch. Except that you are graduating, and I will be here for a longer period of time than anyone thought when I started this stupid degree. Even longer if I don't pull up my socks and catch up on assignments/readings. Were you at a resume workshop or something?
Got addicted to a new television show. Girls? Nothing like watching privileged New Yorkers fuck up their lives. They have developed some truly horrible characters, although it is nice to see a protagonist who has a normal fat layer on her body and still gets laid on a regular basis. Although she does sleep with a 19 year old, turtleneck-wearing, bowl-cut-sporting dude. Another girl gets trapped inside an exhibit that consisted of a box made of television screens playing loops of dead dogs and vicious animals; the artist locks the door and refuses to let her out.  Creative folks can be a disturbing breed.
Talked to a good buddy tonight, her job comes with a free heli-skiing pass. Whooooaaaa. Woke up to find a visitor sprawled out on our couch and kind of liked it. It's lovely to have a place that people feel comfortable visiting.
All of tonight's texts from the boyfriend indicate that people are beating each other up in his living room. We're going to hit up some pet shops this weekend. Pet shop-shopping is what I imagine shoe shopping is for fashionistas.
Stay well.     

No One Tries


Had a discouraging week so far. Today I learned that I am total shit at interviews, even with the unfettered ability to spin endlessly in a rolly chair provided by the kind office of the co-op army. Because there is about 25 employees of this office, all of them aggressively smiling middle aged women who "just want to chat" and "revamp my resume"
And all the while my friend's urges to come to Van this weekend because now he has beer money is whispering in the back of my otherwise blank mind.
If my parents weren't constantly giving me apprehensive looks from the safety of my imagination I would probably just cash in and be an alcoholic dishwasher, maybe for good.
I mean how does a person even get a job post-grad that isn't shining rich people's shoes.
And since when is "having a baby" an automatic status brought to you by FB?

Love always,