First things first: I want to make love to Gary Numan’s voice.
Now on to the post.
The wedding on Sunday was fantastic. My friend was absolutely beautiful, her husband was adorably overwhelmed (we’re the kind of girls that like boys who cry), and I got to have my face airbrushed! All in all, great weekend.
As for this week, Happy Thanksgiving, my dear Creeter Readers! I know I’m a day early, but it’s never not a good time to throw some thanks out into the world. So, “Thanks.”
I’ll be more cerebral next week, I promise.
-R
Filed under: .RACHEL, Family, Joy, Life, Love, Music, Pop Culture, Prose, Relationships, Society, Technology, Tribute, Wednesday, Writing
Three things. That’s all I’m gonna write about right now. I promise.* In order of happenstance:
1. I am going to be a bridesmaid this weekend. My friend was going to be married in April, then February, and yesterday morning she called and said it’s this Sunday. Last minute celebrations are my favorite! There were some problems (read: full-on scratching each other’s eyes out) between the bride’s mother and the groom’s sister over what will be worn at the wedding. So the bride and groom said, “Screw you guys. We’re just getting married this weekend because we don’t give a damn.” My friend said she and her fiancé are happy, so I’m all for it. Certainly makes my weekend a whole lot more exciting than I had originally planned.
2. Two of my short short stories (technically flash fiction) have been accepted by the Fine Arts Center of Hot Springs to be published in The Short List next month. I will attend a book signing in December, where I (along with the other authors) will be presented with a check for our respective stories. Not bad for 149 words.
3. I’m in the process of making a Mix Tape with short story accompaniment. While trying to fall asleep last night, I was listening to my iPod and wondering how pop and rock musicians of the late 1960s would have heard contemporary songs. Not how does Paul McCartney feel about Arcade Fire, but how would he have received their song “Wake Up” if someone had played it for him in 1967? These kinds of thoughts often come to me when I’m in my music reverie, and last night I decided to write a narrative (I don’t think it will turn into any sort of stand alone short story) of introducing contemporary songs (via my iPod, which would be mind-blowing enough) to my favorite musicians in 1969. When I’ve finished, I’ll upload the Mix Tape of the contemporary songs, as well as one or two of the subject’s songs so you might understand the connection. I chose that particular year (1969) because it was on the eve of a new decade, when hard rock was just barely coming into the popular scene, and that time in general because it’s one of my favorites, plus maybe in that drug-induced haze my subjects would feel more inclined to accept whatever futuristic technology I throw at them. I’m done with run-on sentences for now.
-Rachel
*I bet you thought I was lying, didn’t you?
Filed under: .RACHEL, Exams, Frustration, Guilt, Humor, Lazy, Life, Procrastination, School, Wednesday
This is one of those days when there’s nothing left to say but:
“I’m sick of following my dreams, man. I’m just going to ask where they’re going and hook up with ‘em later.”
-Mitch Hedberg
or : “What was the name of his other leg?”
I once met a man with two penises. When I asked him which of the two he used, he replied that he was freely able to use either.
…I suppose that would make him ambi-dick-strous…?
I’ve been here before.
The land of anxiety, impatience, unease, and doubt. And it always puts me in the same funk where nothing makes me happy and all I want to do is go places and be by myself.
I turned in my application for CSULB a couple of weeks ago. Both majors I want to pursue, however, are impacted majors. Add that to the outrageous budget cuts, and you have a rejection disaster in the making. I should be angry and upset.
But I’m not. Not really, anyway.
What does it say about me that half of me is hoping that I won’t get in? If they reject me, then it wasn’t my choice not to go. It’s like a kick in the ass to go out and do what I have to do to be successful.
I want to do art. I want to make movies. I want to sing in a small club or coffeehouse. I want to do nothing but use my creative side and get paid for it. That’s what I REALLY want. That’s my ultimate goal in life.
Pursuing a degree to be a teacher has always been the thing that can hold down a job while I go for it.
But I’ll be 24 in 52 days.
When I finish school and get that part of my life started, I will be…27? That’s too old to start the things I really want to do. I feel like I’m too old now. I should have gone for it before. I should have worked harder. I should have stopped screwing around.
A quarter (maybe a third?) of my life has come and gone, and I feel I have nothing to show for it.
So I guess you could say I’m angry and upset.
But sometimes I think I might be more upset about actually getting in than I am about not getting in.
What to do…what to do…
