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mood |
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music |
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Carole King "After All This Time" |
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Howdy. I felt guilty about yesterday's snoozefest entry, so I came back tonight to do some damage control with much less frantic review. Also, I felt like shooting the breeze about things... it occurred to me just now that catching up on sleep would probably be the best idea (since I am definitely tired... at 1:30 a.m. I am pansier than ever). However though, it'd also just be nice to blab and take the time to be upfront or honest or at least bitchy.
My roommate Zak hasn't been officially ousted from the dorms yet, although my RA Ryan told me his fate was pretty much sealed. I returned to my dorm room one day to find that Ryan had yanked Zak's namecard from my door... which seems a little dramatic and ceremonious. I mean, Zak's still in the room, but his name isn't on the door: he is the man without a country. The only way it could've been better is if Ryan kept the namecard on the door and scrawled a giant scarlet 'A' on it. Zak = stonier Hester Prynne. Thing is, I don't even dislike Zak. He's perfectly nice (albeit a little aggressive, and definitely excited to quote any of your favorite scenes from Liar, Liar... hours of fun!), and I'm sure he's a better roommate than most. Too bad I want him to pack his eight cartons of energy drinks and go. At this point, my dorm room feels like mine and mine alone, and any newcomer feels like a visitor that won't leave. It's safe to compare me to the witch from Hansel & Gretel. I'm just living in my gingerbread dorm room, raring to microwave incoming freshmen. Beware. I would think my RA would realize that my inability to keep a roommate is an omen; fate wants me to have a single for the price of a double, and that's that. Ugggh, this totally reminds me, I need to start my RA application. I don't even know what is propelling me into this whole RA bit other than the guaranteed single or just anything besides a shitty apartment eight blocks from campus. Well, let's be honest, the excuse to eat Burge salads for the rest of my born days is key. Uggh, I seriously don't know how much more of Burge I can take. It's always the hardest part of re-adjusting to school upon my return. The Raisin Bran is exquisite, that I'll give you.
The Daily Iowan is going swimmingly though tediously. It's getting to be such busy work... even within the fluffy stuff I write about. Riverside Theatre, here's the problem with you: your shows star the same four people again and again. I can only interview Michael Sokoloff so many times before the only question left to ask is, "Do I turn you on?" It'll be fun to do my play review this weekend, especially since that's actually the type of writing I enjoy doing... none of this "So-and-so Theatre will present 'Tea and Crumpets' this Thursday... should be a blast!!! the ppl at the theatre say its cool!!! bring yr bf/gf!! Tickets are 29 dollars." I hope to God I find great writing opportunities in the near future... stuff more aligned with what I'm actually good at writing. My motivation is never really in it to write show previews or even feature stories where I'm interviewing a ton of people. Sass is my prerogative, and unfortunately there is little of that on the J-school course listing. I would also like to act in something fun... preferably not something with talking bird characters, because that would be novel to me right now.
I typed in "cmonvogue" on google and the old 'n' sexy mylemont.com messageboard came up. Oh, the wizards you meet online! First things first, after reading a few of my own posts, I can say I am not the man to debate points... even if it has to do with something as blatantly fucked-up as the Injun hysteria. Though I still agree with what I've said about the LHS cesspool, I am not very good at courting opposing opinion... that kind of job is best handled by other messageboarders like "JamaicanBacon" (HAHA, what the hell, Amy J... you Rasta man!) and "lemontstyle" (one day I will unmask her!). Still, it is crazy to read what people in Lemont have to say. I am still incredulous that someone said to me in response to one of my posts, out of nowhere, "CmonVogue probably thinks we should change the name to flamers... I bet that is a name he would be proud of." That retort was so obviously out of line, homophobic, and hateful. Granted I was dealing with the hyper-Conservative faction of Lemont (and what a fine faction it is). Still, I was furious that Amy and Rachel were the only ones that told the homophobe to fuck off. Liberal or conservative, you don't talk to people like that, especially people you're supposedly acting "adult" with. Comes to show that people will honestly say anything to "win" when ego is on the line, and I'm the first to say I'm an active participant in this practice... but I can say I would never mock someone for things about themselves they couldn't change and shouldn't want to change. Somewhere along this same tangent, I just read an awesome blog post by Margaret Cho called "Tobias." Get yer ass to http://www.margaretcho.com and scroll down to Nov. 14. Louis' Heart = breaking.
Anyway, I just wanted to check in briefly. I'll talk to you soon, and thanks for checking up on me and reading. I'm doing alright lately, but I'm not sure exactly what I'm looking forward to other than, one day, not being strung out about constructing a career. The journalism department and its thousands of mass emails seriously encourage compulsivity about it all. GET 2-3 INTERNSHIPS. WORK FOR THE DAILY IOWAN. ASK QUESTIONS. FREELANCE. DO DAMN INTERVIEWS. YOU WILL PROBABLY GET PAID $20,000 A YEAR ANYWAY. Who even knows how much of this is worth it? Who even knows if having the ultimate plan for life is the same thing as being happy? I think this compulsion is exactly what comprises the part of college I don't like. Everything feels so make-or-break to me. Every test, every job opportunity, every missed opportunity, every article. If you want to get "hired" anywhere, your record has to be marvelous. Even then, you can't be sure you will be able to afford peanut butter. This kind of pressure was only meant for 11-year-old Romanian girls on balance beams. And come to think of it, the writing coach at the DI does look remarkably like... Bela Karolyi...
Anyway, as I was saying, time to go. <3 <3 <3 as usual, DJ.
"And I still love you after all this time," xoxo,
Louis
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