Okay W.Bloggar, let’s update, shall we?
I was going to write a whole opinion based Lost entry but I soon grew too distracted for such things. It’s an on going theorem based cult following that can’t be summarized in the mere limitations of a blog post. Besides, I watched the silly thing twice now and I just want to know how the next season (which starts in flipping 2009) will be constructed. Everyone off the island then going back and showing what “bad things” happened after Jack left? And Claire, hello? What the hell happened to her? Does no one care about Claire? Will she be sending us secret messages through extra clips on the extended version Season 4 DVD or what? She looked like she’d been snatched by aliens last time they showed her though.
Then I have the school situation to mention. My “manuscript” if that’s what we’re still calling it, has been reviewed by my professor. Neither of us had contacted one another for a while because he was on vacation or something and I was just over it (I still have a story or two to type up and I just don’t feel compelled to do so. I even have a very crappy story that I wrote a month or so ago that sounds like something out of Gossip Girl so I’m going to pretend that 30 minutes of my life never happened. I was told that all in all my stories with scenes rather than dialogue win out and then I was referred to Hemingway (ah ha!) and was asked what I wanted to do with my work at this point. Well, I have to finish the little statement paper that I never bothered to finish plus the other couple of fake letters to the editor that I also didn’t even bother writing. I’ll have to get back with him on Monday with a “will finish other paperwork, what other options do I have?” type of response.
But the story that he said was most compelling was that one that will be in the literary journal that I am getting three copies of. I seriously hope the Editor in Chief fixed that baby up because after a second opinion, I was pointed to some clerical errors. My professor just asked me, “What’s up with that?” Grr… But aren’t writers and their teachers suppose to fight about this stuff? Maybe I’m just going through the motions of being something of a point of interest to the world in the future.
As long as I don’t end up on Oprah, I’ll be fine…
To go along with my writing work that has been sorely neglected lately (just as this blog has been), I now have a new class to take: my first of three literature classes. I am taking an online literary criticism class that consists of Power Point presentations, one hour long online examinations of the presentations (no book or notes to print out or anything) plus discussion that we have to post about one of our reading assignments and then respond to three, not two like every other class has asked, but three every week. There are also papers involved as usual and the workload is obnoxious for someone who is A.) almost finished with this program and B.) already taken this class at the undergrad and grad level and has since stored it away as knowledge that I only need to use at certain times, like watching a movie that obviously needs a good feminist critic thrown at it. Sigh…
But I will do it, I will get it done and I’ll be a better person for it, or something. If the reading assignments weren’t boring and/or things I’d already read before, I wouldn’t be so irritated with the whole thing. I mean, this would be like requiring someone with in a computer science program to take an Advanced Windows Applications class.
Other than that, I’ve not really talked to anyone except for random visits, email or phone calls to any of my gals about town. I did watch Control finally (ironically the premise for a welcomed catch up call that I received early last night) and I’m telling you, if Debbie would have just kicked Annik’s ass (I love that that girl doesn’t have a Wikipedia page, by the way) then 85% of Ian Curtis’ problems could have possibly been solved. But that’s just the Southern gal in me I guess. Hhmmm. The movie was shot very nice though and all the actors were brilliant. Sam Riley is a good crier, he drew me in a few times with that, and Samantha Morton was the only person who could have played that role.
In job and finance news, nothing. Still nothing. The government told me that I would be getting that extra money last week, yet, it is no where to be found. It took one day for them to send the letter from Atlanta, telling me how much I was getting and when the check would be sent. Why is it taking two weeks to get the actual check?
So I keep up with my job applications (although I haven’t had the deranged motivation to over submit resumes like I was before because obviously that’s not helping; luck or fate or divine intervention is going to be the only way my future will be saved.), plus my loans (am I even getting any more of these things for this term) and the possibility of unemployment at the end of Summer which may or may not even be attainable again. My parents keep saying that I should “look back into teaching”, making my blood pressure and anxiety rise at the subject. If they asked me if I would rather teach public school or work at Target at the unemployment office, I would go with stock girl in a heart beat. I don’t want to lose anymore vital organs or grapples of sanity by handing myself over to the DOE again. I get nauseous just thinking about it.
And on that cheery, closing note, I will also mention that while I’ve written this blog post, there has been a car alarm going off down the street for a full two hours. If someone doesn’t take care of that thing soon, I’m going down there with a bat myself…(I’ll borrow one from the neighbor kids in the parking lot.)
I didn’t sleep well last night because I was all upset about not being able to take my poor ass to the movies, then using the cash I did have to eat pepperoni and sausage pizza from Domino’s. I swear, having heavy food like that on my stomach at night just gives me nightmares. I woke up at five in the morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. Then at six, the cartoon were playing on Nick at Nite so I couldn’t even watch cheesy 80s sitcoms. And now that I’ve slept and showered and have coffee in my hand, that car alarm is enough to make me take out all my aggression out on a random, unsuspecting vehicle.
However, as I was closing this entry up, my fire alarm started that now and again low battery beep (just like at Jack Shephard’s hospital! After all, He is the de facto male lead and the primary protagonist of the series. Weird.) and upon trying to change the nine-volt battery, I successfully broke the whole damn thing. Very nice. Maybe I need to disconnect that cars’ battery with a stolen bat to make me feel better. Nah, I’ll just eat some pizza instead.
Photo credit: deloresdefacto