everybody's special

i'm pretty sure that nobody with actual talent reads my blog (when i get around to posting, that is). legitimized talent, i mean. you guys all rock, but as far as i know, you've never published anything or gotten signed (no, blogs don't count, and neither does the "record label" you thought up when you got stoned on the library roof that one time). anyway, like most losers (and eventual winners, i suppose), i keep trying in spite of the harsh glaring truth and every november, i psyche myself up for the month of plot outlines and carpal tunnel syndrome that is nanowrimo.

and now you musically inclined folks can play too! check it out: the rpm challenge! record an album in 28 days? sounds like a piece of cake to me. though, you only have about 32 hours until the clock starts.

then you have to learn how to play an instrument, find some like-minded saps to accompany you, write a bunch of songs, record them, have artistic differences and go your own way, edit them (the songs, not the differences. though, now that you mention it, your musical pretensions aren't exactly original), leak them to the internet, convince dj dangermouse to remix your shit so the kids will think it's cool, find some kickass cover art, sue the pants off the hipster doofi who illegally downloaded your genius, wallow in your own crapulence, and fall headfirst into the inevitable sophomore slump.

congratulations, you're a rock star! now head on over to pitchfork and hypemachine to obsessively track your "popularity".

ok, fine! yes, i'm slightly bitter, my musical dreams will never be realized! and no, i don't hold that against musicians, more power to them. and maybe, i secretly wish i could pull off the eyeliner look. quit bugging me, don't you have songs to write?

nanowrimo, take five-ish

it's that magical time of year again, when my eyes are too big for my...talent, i guess. november equals national novel writing month, which for me usually equals grandiose ambitions followed by very little in the way of follow-through. the idea is to write 50,000 words in 30 days.

i've been trying since my junior year of college, and the best i ever did was 10,000 (actually 9,874--huzzah for rounding!) and that was two years ago. last year, being back in school, i was quickly distracted by things like papers and other unimportant things (thanksgiving? whatever). but not this time! no sir, i have a secret weapon this year, and it's called: cheating.

that's right. this summer, i started writing a story and got about half of a notebook into it before school started again and robbed me of my mojo/free time/will to live. so, since i still have all that other junk to do this november (trip to see cecilia, turkeyday, homework, real work, trivia night, etc.), i've decided that it's not really unethical to use a story i've already started. since i have to type it anyway, it's practically like writing it (take that, ethics!). anyway, shut up, it's my story and my month!

p.s. write your own novel! go to the website and check it out. the more the merrier!

dogs think i'm awesome

i was riding home after work. it was a beautiful evening in boston, cool and windy; the whole city smelled like the ocean. i like riding at night, as long as i have my lights on so i don't have to fear for my life around the worst drivers in america. on a night like tonight, i just feel bad for the poor suckers in their cars. with good music on the 'pod and the wind in my face, it's the only way to get around.

anyway, i was about halfway over the charles, with all of cambridge spread about in front of me, and a car pulls up alongside me. we're going exactly the same speed, and i find myself face to face with a big brown dog who has his head stuck out the window about 2 feet away. he's got a big dog grin on his big dog face and he looks at me and i look at him. yeah, i think we shared a moment, i'm not ashamed to admit it. he knew what was up.

last weekend, completely randomly, we ended up in the nyc dog fair in madison sq. park. they had a booth for just about every breed and there were maybe 200 people and 400 dogs of all sizes roaming around the park. it was pretty damn awesome. i'm not sure what brought on this whole pet love-in, maybe the long distance relationship thing is making me lonely, but someday pretty soon (when i sell my first novel, duh) i'm gonna get a dog. i grew up with cats, and my sister has cats, and my roommate has cats, but good goddamn, am i ever sick of cats. can you picture what a cat fair would be like? crazy people and snobby cats looking at each other across the park. plus hairballs everywhere. fucking cats.

last week in dc

and i'm having a bit of hard time with it. i guess i should've expected it...i've been tempted to look for jobs around here instead of in boston, and to contact school and see how hard it would be to transfer for my final year. it's a weird feeling, i've always considered myself to be a pretty independent person, and the last year of long-distance relationshipping (ldr-ing) was hard but not nearly as hard as i had been afraid it would turn out to be. so why am i worried now?

because i'm also excited to leave. part of that is the things i have hanging over my head. looking for a job and an apartment at the same time is hell no matter how you slice it, but to be in the wrong city while cheap studios get taken and interviews get postponed is downright torturous. and despite my mom's conviction that i'm a member of the wait-and-see tribe (thanks, jd!), i actually prefer to go out and get shit done rather than let it get all sword of damocles on me (ok, that was gratuitous, i'm sorry). unless it's a paper for school. those are best left until the last minute, because that's when all the good ideas come out and play.

right, so i was going to use this post-work week to get out there and do a whole bunch of touristy things (climb the monument, go to the zoo, stand in the middle of the city and ask the cool looking people how to get to the jefferson memorial, take pictures of every building i see, eat signature dc foods (coffee and steak? every day? i feel like a lobbyist!), etc.) but now i'm gonna be guilty if i don't actually look for jobs/apartments. there's probably some way to equitably divide these things among the hours of the girlfriend-deprived portion of my day--there are far better ways to spend the hours when she's around, snap!--but all i really want to do is work on my latest story. since i'm basically trapped here with lots of free time, i should take advantage and really try to work through a chapter or three. with nanowrimo coming up fast, it's best to get into practice for 2000 words a day.

on top of all that, there's a very real sense that we've already started saying goodbye. shared glances heavy with significance, more hand-holding, lots of um...intimacy. none of which is bad, mind you. but it's hard to start saying goodbye with a week to go. i almost prefer to ignore it until the day i'm leaving, and then be sad for a day or two (or week, or until the phone sex starts) than to feel it dragging out through every minute we have together. she tries very hard not to be sad when we're apart though, more than i do, so i feel like she deserves a little indulgence. i'm perfectly ok with her sadness schedule. when i get sad and we're apart, i'll almost welcome it. i like a little melancholy now and then to spice things up--have a glass of bourbon, put on some mournful, beautiful music, light a few candles and stare at the cieling. i try to revel in the maudlin fun of it all. she's a stiff upper lip kind though. lacking in the "artistic temperament" (that's ok with me, i've got some to spare, after all). she bottles it up when we're apart, so it's almost good for her to be a little sad all week. a small price to pay for me anyway. my job is to cheer her up, and i think i'm damn good at it.

this is a little more personal than i usually get, so let me know if it's too much. not that i would stop. i do what i want, alright? quit trying to change me, jeez.

oh hell

here i've been in washington for a month now, and i can't help but feel that i have astonishingly little to show for it. not that that's anything new, mind you. i have very little to show for all of my 25(!) years on this funktified orb i call home. sometimes (not often, i admit) it's enough to actually get me down--much like spending hours complaining about the rain and then, when the sun finally decides to shine, i am forced (by my sense of responsiblity! thanks mom.) to spend 8 hours at work and 3 at class. this 9-5 stuff is for the birds.

quick aside about class, then back to whingeing:
so, i think it's pretty clear that i am young at heart. but in my wednesday night class, i am the oldest person in the room (not counting ms. marjorie "i met alexandra pelosi once...once!" kline). also, i am the only one in grad school, where i learned how to "contribute to class discussion" and "talk out of my ass about things like tim russert's eyebrows" still, despite my prodigious verbalizin' skillz, i don't know how long i can go on carrying the damn class. speak up, undergrads! i'm not even getting a grade and i'm kicking your early-twenties asses up and down the aisles in class participation. while solving the crossword. and looking mighty fine. and composing haiku in my head.

here's one:
longest summer days
in class, a waste of beer time
maybe bratwursts too

whingeing:
that actually cheered me up quite a bit. i also realized that the creative parts of my brain are working overtime (two novel ideas in a month? unprecedented!) and what really has me down is my lack of actually getting writing done.

and i was all set to complain about having nothing to blog about except the oh-so-uninteresting life of an off-the-hill intern. i have to "work on the website" this week since our legislative agenda is on hold til after the 4th recess. and nobody told me that the newsletter deadline was monday this week (dude, i had a lecture. i can't be held responsible). also the website just got hacked by a teletubby, so there goes any hope of being productive today. i didn't get a picture of the teletubby itself (it had some good news about noo noo) but a little while later, they hacked us again. this time to endorse firefox (my favorite browser!) and decry microsoft.













if the movie hackers taught me anything, it's that every wired-in misanthrope either looks like jonny lee miller or angelina jolie and they fly through the internets on virtual skateboards. also, they're probably jerks who dress like they're on acid. so, thanks, hacker, for pointing out our vulnerability. now run along, you're probably late to algebra class.