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- Ernest Hemingway.
When my Writing for Magazines professor handed out print-outs of this quote on the first day of class, I thought it was cute. Oh look, he’s trying to be a tough guy – hip, cool, bold. Sure, I’ll hang up this quote on my wall – remind myself constantly to be a critical writer, or at least make it look like I have that writer “cred.” (No?)
Hell, we all thought it was cute. There are two decorated copies hung in the newspaper office, as if we are all Hemingway devotees, as if we too write and rewrite and rewrite every piece we do. Someone should call us out on being hypocritcal poseurs (although we appreciate a light kick in the pants to maybe make our writing better).
Today it was not cute.
One of our assignments this week was to interview one of our classmates and write a 500-word profile on him or her. Fine. Simple, relatively speaking, as writing is really only simple in its delivery, not its creation. And so we all completed our assignment and handed them in, stapled, on-time, with perfect headers and margins, like good little college students.
“The first draft of anything is shit.”
*Rrrrippp* *Trashed*
“Do it again, give to me on Monday.”
Super.
While this is less than awesome, obviously (a college student’s time is valuable, sir!), the message does reign true. I’m not much of an editor when it comes to my own writing. Kidding myself, I say that with school and life getting in the way I just don’t have time to dedicate myself to my articles enough to write draft after draft. But in reality, I think I fear the process. I know I am good writer, but what if it never gets good enough? I can read an amazing piece and know that it’s amazing, but I am afraid I will never be able to accomplish anything like it. I love those pieces; I don’t want to find out that I can’t do them.
Our professor told us to write as much as we can, more or less. To dedicate time to it like a job, not a hobby. I need – and want – to write more. I want to overcome my fear and get to that point where I’m confident enough that writing is fun. Hence this blog will hopefully see more entries then (yay! right?), but I want even more than that. I’ve thought about attempting some freelance pitches for a while now, again putting it off out of fear – but also because I have no sense of a starting direction. I suppose the best thing to do is just dive in whether or not I know I’m doing it “right.” So often I think of processes and actions like this as big secrets that everyone keeps from me, but in the end there appears to be no right way. Everyone “fakes it til they make it.” (Note: stop using cliches).
I’m thinking about starting another blog – one that will be less anonymous (ahh!) - to chronicle my work as it appears and also to comment on articles I read. I’m not sure how I’ll go about formatting that (help? eh? eh?), but if it happens, be on the look out. 
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Tags: blog, Ernest Hemingway, shit, Writing
A little TMI for your Labor Day
So I have been burping, like, non-stop for the past 36 hours. It feels like my stomach is filled with a 100 little air pockets that keep needing to be expelled, but then mulitply quicker than I can take care of them. Like bacteria. Or bunnies. So my question: What gives?? It’s not even super uncomfortable as it is strangely odd, which of course, for the small hypochondriac inside me,3 is raising a red flag. And although I’ve perfected the “silent burp,” this condition is still certainily less than lady-like.
So that little hypochrondriac – who appears residing in my stomach, throwing an air pocket party – WebMD-ed burping. Little help you are again, WebMD, as it appears that bloating, gas, and the like are not only sypmptoms but also just simply conditions in themselves, surfacing in articles on indegestion and heartburn to – my and all our favorites – pregnancy. Why is everything a symptom for pregnancy? Or, even better, why is every symptom for pregnancy also a symptom of PMS? Bloating? Sure. Fatigue? Why not. Throbbing boobs? Apparently. In another cruel joke on all women, the universe has set it up so that every month we have no idea if our uterus still lies dormant or if we have the exact opposite about to slap us in the face. And, as usual, I cross my fingers for the former.
School began this week. I made it. Good enough for me.
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Tags: Burping, PMS, pregnancy, school, WebMD
I know what you all must be thinking. “Again??? She apologizes for not updating like all the time on this blog!” And I know, you’re right. But you’ll have to excuse me for the next week or so, as I have once again begun to pack up my life and move it to a different state. The amount of home stuff that will happen in the next week will come at me too fast and in too large a volume to ponder well enough, so my bloggin may hence be a little scarce.
However, I do have a choice I have to make perhaps someone can be some help with. I’ve been offered two online internships for the fall – one at a magazine’s website where I’d get more software and editing experience but not get to write really, and one at a website that is its own editorial entity and will get to write as one of my main duties. Any thoughts?? God, I hate decisions with speedy, risky timelines.
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Tags: Apology, internship
Bump on a log
I am a useless mass of being. Or lack of being. I have stared at this “new post” page at least once a day for the past 5 days and have come up with literally nothing of interest to say. Nothing creative. No musings. No intelligent thoughts. I feel like a blob of ineloquence with no muscle to pick itself up again and say or do something worthwhile.
I’ve taken to returning phone calls and e-mails far later than what is socially acceptable, if at all. I can barely put pajamas on and wash my face to go to sleep. I can barely type.
I can only imagine how ridiculous this is all sounding right now, at practically 3 in the morning. I’m forcing myself to say something, anything, to convince myself that I brain has not melted in the summer heat. I want to feel alive, but my thoughts have left me feeling somewhat jaded and blahhh.
And now it’s raining. And our air-conditioner is broken. God, how I just want to fall asleep knowing I’ve done something of worth in the day I have left behind.
But for now, more sluggishness.
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Airplane
I spent 10 hours in an airport on Monday. Spent about forty dollars on needless food, watched my flight delay about ten times, took shelter from a possible tornado ripping over our way, and listened to one particular busybody yammer on and on about how she “cannot believe the plane is delayed AGAIN!” And watched her narrate every and all actions of the airport staff and as well as passengers who were only getting more and more pissed off. And then cried like a baby on the phone to my dad at the prospect of spending the night in the airport.
Clearly, I don’t travel enough to be immune to these sorts of things.
As I was sitting there, i thought of many things that would make an interesting blog entry, people-watching commentary and the like, but alas, now all of that has escaped me. It’s too bad my laptop weighs as much as a baby elephant, or perhaps it would have made the trip with me.
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Tags: airport, Chicago
Hello from Chicago
After a pleasant, but briefly delayed (err) flight, I am here in Chicago. Flying over the city before we landed was one of the coolest things that I’ve seen recently – I’d forgotten just what you can see from the window seat of an airplane. Peering over the undefined lines of city vs. suburbia, the Sears Tower blatant in all its glory, flying through pillowy clouds, I was enthralled.
I hate what it feels like when a plane lands, however. If it feels like its crashing when its landing safely, I don’t even want to think about what an actual crash feels like. Even so, I feel like such a transportation conoisseur lately. Made it all the Chicago on a plane by myself that was delayed and switched gates twice, then followed instructions to hope on a CTA bus and take an hour long ride to Northwestern. And I made it!
And then proceded to eat. A lot. Stir-fry bar lunch/dinner at Flat Top (um, amazing, I’m talking like dozens of ingredients, 20 sauce choices, then a myriad of options on how to prepare it all), 
Mexican second dinner with complete with guac and Coronas, and then the night in a boozy, dance-y, blues bar with live music. Needless to say, being the old lady that I am, I was exhausted, but the surge of happiness was great. My internship ended yesterday and while I am such a loss and actually quite sad, I am so proud of myself and the whole experience has left me with such a good feeling (I just avoided using the phrase ‘a high’ and this is best that’s coming to mind). It’s been awhile since I’ve felt completely good about a decision I’ve made or an experience I’ve had, but I could not have had a better experience or made a better choice than with what happened this summer.
My friend who I’m visiting had me act as test subject in her robotics lab this afternoon, and now I’m watching her have to go through my results and code them all. I am so not a science major. You’re all nuts.
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Tags: bar, Chicago, food, friends, internship, summer
What’s left of summer
I can’t believe I’m about to write an entry on such a heinous, horrible topic, but the time has come. Today marked the 4 week countdown to back to school…[screams into pillow]. Needless to say I am not super psyched at this truth, but you have to give me points for saying it out loud. Hello group, my name is Lauren, and I’m an avoid-oholic. (Side note: I have such a problem with these “-aholic” terms. “Shopaholic,” “workaholic,” ugh. First of all, there is no “a” in alcoholic, the term from which all of these subsequent terms derive, and the “ohol” is part of the word “alcohol.” So really, if I’m addicted to shopping, I’d be a shopic or if I was addicted to work I’d be a workic. Sure, theres no ring to it, but come on people! This is right up there with “a whole ‘nother.” Ugh.)
But while I may avoid the issue of school, denying its inevitability would be worse. It would leave me thinking that summer lasts forever and all the things I want to do would never get done. No timeline, no progress – at least in this case.
So here’s what I plan on doing for the rest of the summer:
1. Beach – Obvious answer I know, but it’s August and my skin is the same color it was in January. I’m sorry but that’s just weird. I need sunburn that turns into tan, sand in my crotch and saltwater in my hair! Mm, and boardwalks and bagels and impulse beach buys.
2. Waterpark – The anti-beach. Fun with water slides and wave pools the those to cowardly or grossed out by seaweed, salt, and sand choose over the beach. But where the beach feels natural and homey to me, the waterpark feels like a treat. So I’m going, fake beach and all.
3. Eat some New York falafel – Due to my (not doing so good) diet (sigh), I’ve missed out on the plethora of awesome New York City food. A travesty, I know, and if I have to eat Pret A Manger one more time I may be physically ill, more sick than any street food could make me. And falafel it will be. Since Thursday is our intern “thank you breakfast” (tear), I’ve decided that will be my eating day. And hence will be falafel in a pita with french fry day.
4. Play some mini-golf – I suppose this kind of goes hand in hand with the beach, but I’ve got the urge. Playing with my parents on vacation had turned me off from it, but I bet some sweet mini-golfing and Coronas would be excellllllent.
5. Go to a Mets game – this one’s mostly for the boyfriend and his crew, but baseball seems very summery to me, and so I’m looking forward to it. Yep…that’s pretty much all I can say about baseball.
6. CHICAGO! Wha wha wha, you ask? How spontaneous and impulsive! Yes it is, and I love it. I decided about 3 days ago that this weekend I’m going to Chicago to visit my friend who’s doing some kind of biomedical robotic somethingorother research at Northwestern. Will dancing and debauchery ensue? One can only hope. A post to come, I promise.
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Tags: Chicago, plans, summer
Uh OH
I cannot find my jump drive.
This. Is. Very. Bad.
My entire life is on that thing, and now I’m cursing every single time it almost fell out of my backpack and I went, “Gee, I should really back up all the shit (TOTALLY VALUABLE SHIT) that’s on here so I will not be kicking myself on the day that I inevitably LOSE IT.”
I’m praying that it has only briefly been swallowed up into the eye of the tornado that has apparently gone through my room lately. But seriously, if I can’t find it, I’m going to have a coniption anuerism COW (I can’t even spell the things that are going to happen to me)!
This will be the end of my career. Cause God knows getting me to type my resume the first time around was like pulling teeth. Eeeeeeek.
Updates on the search, to come, sigh.
In lighter news, free sweet potato skins and some sort of chocolate heart attack concoction in the pantry today at work. Every place of business should have a test kitchen.
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Tags: food, freak out, lost, resume
Drunk off exhaustion
I was doing so well for a while. Getting up at 6:00, not nodding off on the train next some Crackberry-ing finance man (yes, finance man as I assume must be anyone dressed in a suit’s official title), and generally making it through work without checking the clock or even my e-mail every two minutes. But something this week just left me tiiiiiired. Which I’m shamefully using as an explanation for my lack of decent posts lately.
It’s odd that I was so exhausted and just plain “done” this week as my parents and sister were away on vacation. A vacation that I, normally jobless, would go on every year, but alas, internship beckons. Whatever, I’ll take the money and that ego boost I give myself every morning if only for a the second that I’m in the elevator up to the 24th floor. So high up, so important. Ha. When I think about it, however, it makes perfect sense that I’m so tired on such a week that my family is not around.
First, being on my own means that I try and pack in as many things I can that would normally be impossible to do while my parents are around, or at the very least far too much effort to explain. This would include eating a pudding pack for breakfast (and then buying a toasted cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese in Penn Station - damn!), having the girls over for guacamole, Coronas and Project Runway, and plain ol’ normal, private sex. TMI? I don’t care. My boyfriend and I spend so much of our relationship dodging school schedules, roommates, and our respective families that we’d be happy with an hour in a completely empty room just to effing talk. I’m serious, most of the time that seems like an unattainable heaven. But I’ll take sex as well…sigh. I also went to a media intern panel this week (snaps to those involved), which was cool. I really enjoy hearing about a wide variety of experiences in different media fields because it reminds how many doors are still open to me and how I still have time to decide what path or paths may want to go down. Or even, which ones will choose me. My favorite piece of advice from one of these things was about remembering how young I am and truly taking advantage of that – not making huge, permanent life decisicions at twenty and taking advantage of opportunities to be impulsive and a little risky. We’re YOUNG. We don’t have to be perfect or know-it-alls right now. Live and intern in NY for the summer if you want, of course, but going to, say Europe for a year at 22 is certainly not a waste of time if you use that time to grow. I appreicate it so much when I find other people uphold these ideals – ideals that I wish others could see are actually NORMAL – not ideals about recruiting newly bred finance men (and women) the September BEFORE they graduate. But, really, that’s another post all together.
However, these panel things also tend to totally freak. Me. Out. I start to get nervous about my lack of superior experience (ironic consider the preachy “young” speech I just gave) and my complete paralytic nature toward the sooo important networking. Errrrr. Makes me TIRED. And in desperate need of help. Please?
Second, and perhaps ironically and pathetically, being on my own means theres no one else around to keep me in order. Or at least my life in order. No one cleaning up my laundry, no one washing dishes, no one bringing in the paper and mail, and certainly no one making me a nice little breakfast in the morning. I realize this sounds like I’m a somewhere half-way between a 2-year-old and a spoiled daddy’s little girl, but an entire house is more to take care of than it seems. And when you’re tired and alone you live like you please, but you certainly don’t clean up after yourself. The scrambling I did this morning to make the house look at least semi in-order was a decent effot, but who I am kidding, my mom knows I totally killed all her plants this week. Oops…
In addition to my week alone, it was also kind of an awkwardly rough work week. I began painstakly working on a project I’ve been avoiding, which actually felt okay, but left me with that nervous feeling I get when I’m not sure I can accomplish something super-well. It’s not that I didn’t want to do it, I just didn’t want to find out that maybe I couldn’t. And on top of that, I think I made my first significant mistake at work. Without going into breach-of-confidentiality-agreement details, I hesistated on something I should not have hesitated on and my have cost the magazine a little bit of money, and at the very least a tad bit of agony. Again, oops. Although no one said anything directly to me – which leads me to believe it was okay and all was resolved – I heard it through the grapevine, and knew that had I acted where I had not, there would have been no problem at all. But, no one seems to be mad at me sooo…I’m moving on. Sorry for my lack of description and over-ramblings.
And on top of THAT…um, ok. This one has to come out fast, since I don’t usually talk about it in specifics, but I’m feeling cathartic so, let’s try. [Deep breath]… I’ve been thinking about transferring schools since, oh, two months into my freshman year, but for a myriad of reasons, never did. Yet, I consider many of my school decisions huge, life-altering mess-ups and cannot get it out of my head – even though I’m about to be a senior – that I would prefer transferring if I had the guts. I hate how that’s all its come down to. In the past I could rationalize other reasons for staying where I am, but now I can see no other reason except a lack of balls, and at this point I suppose justification. Who transfers when they’re eight courses away from graduating? Anyway, it’s almost always been in the back of my mind that if wanted to transfer I could. A state school here takes applications far into the summer for the fall term, and lately I’d been checking whether or not they were still accepting them. As of Wednesday – they’re not anymore. My stomach sunk. I swallowed hard. And literally had to hold back tears. It was like hitting a wall – the final end of the line. I know I can’t do justice to explaining this either because it really been three years of crap on top of more crap just building and building, all the while getting too heavy to push off my shoulders. Sometimes the stress of this topic makes me feel like an infant – needing to go to sleep to avoid the overstimulation. And hence, I grew tired.
Wow long post tonight for someone whos tired. Let’s try to end on a positive note. I’m going to use these last 2 weeks as a full-time New Yorker (almost, come on) in the best ways I can. I’m going to put my fears aside and finish my assignments glowingly. I’m going to lunch with an editor next week and I’m going to write until I cannot write anymore. But I’m also going to use my lunch break to explore a little more – i JUST realized that a Sephora is like 2 blocks from where I’m at. And my new lip-gloss is looking rather stylish, thank you.
At one of my low points this week I tried making a list on everything I disliked about New York City as I thought of it. The most I came to was the fact that escalators in Penn Station rarely work and the smell. Ick, some of those NY smells are just bad. But all around, if thats all I can really complain about, I must be doing okay. Big push through this next two weeks – even if I’m going to be tired.
And, good night moon.
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Tags: exhaustion, friends, internship, New York, parents, school, sex
Displaced from the beach
I have tasted what summer used to feel like….a weekend at the beach. And now I feel I’ve rested into a working slump. As in, I dont wanna. My nose and back are burnt and my hair still has salt in it, but damn it I’d kill for three extra weeks of the ocean air instead of three more weeks of the stench of New York and constant second hand smoke. I think the city is more difficult to appreciate, more difficult to be starry-eyed over in large doses. Particularly when those doses involve little more than power-walking the same 10 blocks every day and eating at the same lame, but fast, “fresh” take-out place each afternoon.
On the brightside, work continues to be interesting, challenging, and comforting all at the same time. But I need fun. I need to see New York for what it really could be, not just a place go to for 8 hours everyday, peering only upon the bulletin board behind my computer screen all day.
I need to reclaim summer.
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Tags: beach, internship, New York, summer
