So, my PBS gig is almost up. It's called "Seasoned with Spirit", look out for it next year! It's all about Native Americans, cooking, or some combination of the two.
On to the next gig. They're hiring APs at Fresh Air (popular NPR program produced in Philly) so I applied for that . . . I doubt I'll be able to make enough money writing for internet 'zines (see my latest at www.divavillage.com (yes, it's a website for 21-year-old women (hey, I'm versitile))) . . . they're paying me a whopping $10 a pop!!
If anyone knows of any interesting production work . . . although, I'm working on a television treatement with a friend which might take a month or so. So, maybe I'll wait tables. Anyone know of any cool restaurants that are hiring? Drop me a line!
On to the next gig. They're hiring APs at Fresh Air (popular NPR program produced in Philly) so I applied for that . . . I doubt I'll be able to make enough money writing for internet 'zines (see my latest at www.divavillage.com (yes, it's a website for 21-year-old women (hey, I'm versitile))) . . . they're paying me a whopping $10 a pop!!
If anyone knows of any interesting production work . . . although, I'm working on a television treatement with a friend which might take a month or so. So, maybe I'll wait tables. Anyone know of any cool restaurants that are hiring? Drop me a line!
I finished my master's thesis.
Now I work for a PBS documentary series.
And use a port-o-let daily.
I'd give you the details, but I'm too embarrassed.
Now I work for a PBS documentary series.
And use a port-o-let daily.
I'd give you the details, but I'm too embarrassed.
Jury Duty!
I served today, and avoided being sequestered in a small room with people, people who may or may not value personal hygine as much as myself, through dumb luck. I was number 30 out of 30, and I guess they found 12 people that they liked before they got to number 26! Thank goodness for earnest people . . .
I would have liked to serve, but I need to get a job and it would be just my luck that my ideal job (I'm looking at you Cartoon Network) would call me when my cell phone was locked in a cubby and guarded like I could have fought my way out of the courtroom with it . . .
I've really got to watch those run-on sentences. And finish my fucking master's thesis.
Cheers!
I served today, and avoided being sequestered in a small room with people, people who may or may not value personal hygine as much as myself, through dumb luck. I was number 30 out of 30, and I guess they found 12 people that they liked before they got to number 26! Thank goodness for earnest people . . .
I would have liked to serve, but I need to get a job and it would be just my luck that my ideal job (I'm looking at you Cartoon Network) would call me when my cell phone was locked in a cubby and guarded like I could have fought my way out of the courtroom with it . . .
I've really got to watch those run-on sentences. And finish my fucking master's thesis.
Cheers!
Welcome Santianna!
You gotta tell me, are you really 19? How do you write so well? Are your parents writers? Did you have some sort of intense tutoring by a reclusive genius? Are you just smater than the rest of us? I must know.
You gotta tell me, are you really 19? How do you write so well? Are your parents writers? Did you have some sort of intense tutoring by a reclusive genius? Are you just smater than the rest of us? I must know.
Today my friend Dave talked me into joining myspace.com. It's kind of like a friendster rip-off, and as I'm just getting used to this whole journaling on the net thing, I thought I'd give it a shot. I set up a free account and started screwing around.
There is a function with which you can search for members, and being somewhat sentimental and a lot narcissitic, I searched for my college girlfriend.
And I found her. It turns out she is now a lesbian living in Seattle. I think (I hope) this is the first thing that I have in common with George Castanza.
There is a function with which you can search for members, and being somewhat sentimental and a lot narcissitic, I searched for my college girlfriend.
And I found her. It turns out she is now a lesbian living in Seattle. I think (I hope) this is the first thing that I have in common with George Castanza.
Ok, one more. I think that Santianna is an amazing writer. I can't believe she's only 19. I absolutely can't belive it.
So, I'm going to try this 'add as friend' thing again, this time on purpose. And if it works, Santianna will see this and then she can tell me if she really is 19.
And if so, where she learned to write like that. Better yet, if she speaks like she writes; or if she speaks at all. I find that if I spend a long time writing, I have trouble speaking for a while. I think that you use different parts of your brain for communication through speach and comm. through writing, and when one is more activate (in my case at least) the other becomes less. What say you, priescent Santianna?
So, I'm going to try this 'add as friend' thing again, this time on purpose. And if it works, Santianna will see this and then she can tell me if she really is 19.
And if so, where she learned to write like that. Better yet, if she speaks like she writes; or if she speaks at all. I find that if I spend a long time writing, I have trouble speaking for a while. I think that you use different parts of your brain for communication through speach and comm. through writing, and when one is more activate (in my case at least) the other becomes less. What say you, priescent Santianna?
Oh. So, I posted a comment thinking that it was a journal entry, after clicking on "add as a friend" thinking that it would bookmark a link. This proves I have no idea how to navigate this site. I can't add "suicidegirls.com" to my resume.
So I told my gf that I spend time on sites like suicide girls, and she got kind of freaked out. I mean, she knows I'm a freak, and she admited as much, but when I actually talk to her about stuff like this, she freaks out. A bad sign?
Am I looking for bad signs? Is that a bad sign?
I think I need to get high.
So I told my gf that I spend time on sites like suicide girls, and she got kind of freaked out. I mean, she knows I'm a freak, and she admited as much, but when I actually talk to her about stuff like this, she freaks out. A bad sign?
Am I looking for bad signs? Is that a bad sign?
I think I need to get high.
So, I've cleaned my apartment and I'm just sitting here waiting for my friend Dave. He's driving up from North Carolina, and I haven't seen him in in almost six years. He doesn't have a cell phone, so I can't call him. He didn't call me when he left, so I don't know when to expect him. And I'm hungry. Really hungary.
The best part his I have him my address and phone number, but in the south, apartments are easily recongizable as something distinct from a house, or at least a small house. With these damn huge townhouses, I'm afraid he won't even recognize that this is an apartment complex.
Q:What to do?
A: Neurotically check my email and post a journal article on suicide girls for the first time.
So, I think this is my second on-line journal posting. The first was about three years ago, when "blogging" was just beginning to catch on. I really thought I could write something that I would update all the time! Imagine that, starting something and sticking with it. . .
So, my land line just wrang and there was no one on it. To my knowledge, no one has my land line and Dave should have my cell phone number . . . but maybe he forgot my cell phone # and got my land line from 411. Argh! That's kind of bizaare that the phone rang . . . maybe a bad sign? Okay, back to checking my email neurotically . . .
The best part his I have him my address and phone number, but in the south, apartments are easily recongizable as something distinct from a house, or at least a small house. With these damn huge townhouses, I'm afraid he won't even recognize that this is an apartment complex.
Q:What to do?
A: Neurotically check my email and post a journal article on suicide girls for the first time.
So, I think this is my second on-line journal posting. The first was about three years ago, when "blogging" was just beginning to catch on. I really thought I could write something that I would update all the time! Imagine that, starting something and sticking with it. . .
So, my land line just wrang and there was no one on it. To my knowledge, no one has my land line and Dave should have my cell phone number . . . but maybe he forgot my cell phone # and got my land line from 411. Argh! That's kind of bizaare that the phone rang . . . maybe a bad sign? Okay, back to checking my email neurotically . . .
