Roads - Portishead
I have much to do of the reporting aspect to keep you, my ever-loyal Blogger audience, up-to-date on my anamorphic life.
First off, I am thoroughly enjoying the power Lappy has bestowed upon me. I'm quickly updating and expanding my mp3 collection (all legally, dear Ethan, so fret not), I have organized my poetry and prose in preparation for submission, and I get to tout my 1337 indie-ness with the bold LAC on Lappy's monitor. Also, its extreme portability gives me the ease of working on my writing from the comfort of anywhere (except in my two classes with Professor Goodman, who is something of a technophobe).
Secondly, I grow ever more frustrated at the American norm for activity. The volume of work which accompanies a semester of upper-division English courses has severely taxed my energy reserves, sapping much of the ambition and vitality I accumulated over the break. I feel spiritually weary when I consider the long semester ahead and the ones beyond that before I graduate. And for what? To begin a career I could just as easily begin now without the hassle? I know, I know, a BA in something means you're worth something to employers, but fuck employers. My employers will be editors and publishers, and they won't care much what my credentials are as long as I can write well.
This frustration is compounded by the shafting I'm receiving at the hands of Night & Day. When I applied, Marc told me I'd be getting $375/month for >10 hours of work per week. A sweet deal, but he must have decided to throw some rotting soybeans into my cake batter before he baked it. Now, I'm making $325/month for ~11.25 hours/week. In addition, the job hazards since switching to the NWRC have increased. For example, I discovered that flourescent lightbulbs explode under minimal impact when I disposed of some last night. The act of tossing them into the dumpster caused glass shards to fly out of the container. This is just one of the many occupational hazards I deal with. I'm sure OSHA would have a field day with that place if it wasn't a government facility. More work + increased hazard + less pay = unhappy situation. Plus, the job is also eating into my homework/writing time. I don't know if I'll be able to keep it while devoting as much time as I need to classes and writing.
Speaking of writing, I've started work on my first novel, a project entitled Black Bride. It's a ghost story inspired partly by Tim Burton's Corpse Bride and Victoria's MySpace pictures. I've also started working on a short story called How to Enjoy a Friend, which will be a satire on literary criticism and scholarship.
I'm auditioning for the Directing II students in an hour. Freelance theatre work and I get along splendidly, and directing students are usually much more lax than professional directors. They're just happy to have people to work with. Plus, I like hanging out with theatre people; they're fun and unpredictable.
That's enough for now, I think. Long posts make long delays, as the proverb says.
First off, I am thoroughly enjoying the power Lappy has bestowed upon me. I'm quickly updating and expanding my mp3 collection (all legally, dear Ethan, so fret not), I have organized my poetry and prose in preparation for submission, and I get to tout my 1337 indie-ness with the bold LAC on Lappy's monitor. Also, its extreme portability gives me the ease of working on my writing from the comfort of anywhere (except in my two classes with Professor Goodman, who is something of a technophobe).
Secondly, I grow ever more frustrated at the American norm for activity. The volume of work which accompanies a semester of upper-division English courses has severely taxed my energy reserves, sapping much of the ambition and vitality I accumulated over the break. I feel spiritually weary when I consider the long semester ahead and the ones beyond that before I graduate. And for what? To begin a career I could just as easily begin now without the hassle? I know, I know, a BA in something means you're worth something to employers, but fuck employers. My employers will be editors and publishers, and they won't care much what my credentials are as long as I can write well.
This frustration is compounded by the shafting I'm receiving at the hands of Night & Day. When I applied, Marc told me I'd be getting $375/month for >10 hours of work per week. A sweet deal, but he must have decided to throw some rotting soybeans into my cake batter before he baked it. Now, I'm making $325/month for ~11.25 hours/week. In addition, the job hazards since switching to the NWRC have increased. For example, I discovered that flourescent lightbulbs explode under minimal impact when I disposed of some last night. The act of tossing them into the dumpster caused glass shards to fly out of the container. This is just one of the many occupational hazards I deal with. I'm sure OSHA would have a field day with that place if it wasn't a government facility. More work + increased hazard + less pay = unhappy situation. Plus, the job is also eating into my homework/writing time. I don't know if I'll be able to keep it while devoting as much time as I need to classes and writing.
Speaking of writing, I've started work on my first novel, a project entitled Black Bride. It's a ghost story inspired partly by Tim Burton's Corpse Bride and Victoria's MySpace pictures. I've also started working on a short story called How to Enjoy a Friend, which will be a satire on literary criticism and scholarship.
I'm auditioning for the Directing II students in an hour. Freelance theatre work and I get along splendidly, and directing students are usually much more lax than professional directors. They're just happy to have people to work with. Plus, I like hanging out with theatre people; they're fun and unpredictable.
That's enough for now, I think. Long posts make long delays, as the proverb says.
