Don’t you just hate it when I’m right? Seriously. Put down the BlackBerry and the coffee and listen up.
Do it. No, not it it, I’m not encouraging anything drastic here. I’m just giving you the little shove that you don’t realize you need - to do something you love. Like Elle Woods said in “Legally Blonde,” “Happy people just don't shoot their husbands, they just don't.” You don’t want to be a husband murderer do you? So do it. Go and find something you love in the world that makes you smile. And it’s okay if you’re not experiencing an Oprah “Aha” moment. It could take some time. But start thinking about it. Instead of just getting through the day and hoping you make it to dinner without dropping dead of exhaustion first, start noticing when you find yourself smiling. Think about why you smiled, what made you laugh or feel good inside. Whether it was by picking up a piece of trash to make the world a cleaner place or just being around friends and family, there has to be something that you enjoy doing. I’m not uber religious – but people do say God put us here on earth for a reason. So don’t disappoint!
Find your calling!
There, ill step off my soapbox for the day and get back to whatever it was I was doing. Okay so studying doesn’t make me happy, but shopping with all the money that I’m gonna make as a famous Journalist will be quite the reward. Success can be quite sweet!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
It's All Greek to Me
Sorority girls are just soooo sorority. Like, what about being in a sorority makes every girl feel the desire to buy Nike running shorts, Ugg boots and Seven Jeans? I just soo don’t get it! There are 17 different sororities on our campus right now, you think that would engender individuality and a sense of personal being Wrong. You can line up 100 girls (give or take a few shades of hair dye and 5 or 10 pounds) and you probably, like, couldn’t tell them apart! Am I right or am I right?
Beyond the way sorority girls dress, a qualm with which I am currently struggling is our overuse of the word girl. Here, let me break it down, “hey girl! Whatcha doing girl? Or my personal favorite, bye girl!” We know you're a girl. I just don’t get it. What about that word is so infectious that it has managed to place itself at the end of every single one of our peppy sentences. It doesn’t make you sound any happier or more satisfied with life, so why use it?
If you really want to fit in get a fake id or buy an ipod, but please – don’t end your sentence with the world girl. Ahem, we would like to be treated like ladies.
Beyond the way sorority girls dress, a qualm with which I am currently struggling is our overuse of the word girl. Here, let me break it down, “hey girl! Whatcha doing girl? Or my personal favorite, bye girl!” We know you're a girl. I just don’t get it. What about that word is so infectious that it has managed to place itself at the end of every single one of our peppy sentences. It doesn’t make you sound any happier or more satisfied with life, so why use it?
If you really want to fit in get a fake id or buy an ipod, but please – don’t end your sentence with the world girl. Ahem, we would like to be treated like ladies.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Journaling like it’s our religion, no really.
Writers are like Jesus.
Okay, so maybe we don’t walk on water (although with some skis, these days anything is possible) but we do have powers, and lots of them. Writers have the ability to make you laugh, cry, become angry and fall in love, all with a simple pen and paper. Most of all, though, writers have the power to heal. We hear your problems and we fix them. Just think of some of the journalists through time - Abigail Van Buren of Dear Abby, now that girl knew how to listen to her people. Mitch Albom, author of Tuesdays with Morrie had me weeping like a kid who lost her best friend. They had what we writers come by naturally – passion, insight, chutzpah - (which means courage, but for some reason our Jewish grandmothers insisted on throwing Yiddish in there as if we understand it intuitively).
Most of all though, we, as writers, care. We see problems, but desire solutions. So, my request from you, is that next time you read something that makes you want to throw down the paper and cancel your subscription – just remember, we’re just trying to find our place among the gods.
Okay, so maybe we don’t walk on water (although with some skis, these days anything is possible) but we do have powers, and lots of them. Writers have the ability to make you laugh, cry, become angry and fall in love, all with a simple pen and paper. Most of all, though, writers have the power to heal. We hear your problems and we fix them. Just think of some of the journalists through time - Abigail Van Buren of Dear Abby, now that girl knew how to listen to her people. Mitch Albom, author of Tuesdays with Morrie had me weeping like a kid who lost her best friend. They had what we writers come by naturally – passion, insight, chutzpah - (which means courage, but for some reason our Jewish grandmothers insisted on throwing Yiddish in there as if we understand it intuitively).
Most of all though, we, as writers, care. We see problems, but desire solutions. So, my request from you, is that next time you read something that makes you want to throw down the paper and cancel your subscription – just remember, we’re just trying to find our place among the gods.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Asher Roth Knows His Stuff.
Welcome to college.
College: suppressed sexuality during the day and drunk raging hormones by dark.
College. Either you love it or you hate it. You either meet the love of your life, or end up scattering your v-card in tiny pieces like birdseed among every frat house on Greek row.
College. Just three simple words between intoxicated young lovers can change the meaning of an entire relationship. “Wanna hang out?” Hanging out doesn’t mean what it used to folks. Hanging out a.k.a “hooking up” is what our generation has termed anything in between a hot and heavy make-out session to doing it and everything in between. For those long hours past the bar scene, what used to be a true friendship between two parties advances to insatiable satisfaction and years of unexpressed desire.
Until the alcohol wears off. With the rising sun comes rising embarrassment. Now you no longer have a friend, or a boyfriend (as if it was ever going to become that) you just have that guy at the party that you loved for 3 hours 2 weeks ago, Saturday. Too bad you can’t say hi – that would be way too awkward.
College: suppressed sexuality during the day and drunk raging hormones by dark.
College. Either you love it or you hate it. You either meet the love of your life, or end up scattering your v-card in tiny pieces like birdseed among every frat house on Greek row.
College. Just three simple words between intoxicated young lovers can change the meaning of an entire relationship. “Wanna hang out?” Hanging out doesn’t mean what it used to folks. Hanging out a.k.a “hooking up” is what our generation has termed anything in between a hot and heavy make-out session to doing it and everything in between. For those long hours past the bar scene, what used to be a true friendship between two parties advances to insatiable satisfaction and years of unexpressed desire.
Until the alcohol wears off. With the rising sun comes rising embarrassment. Now you no longer have a friend, or a boyfriend (as if it was ever going to become that) you just have that guy at the party that you loved for 3 hours 2 weeks ago, Saturday. Too bad you can’t say hi – that would be way too awkward.
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