New Specs:

I got my new specs today. I don't have much to report on other than I've been super busy lately with work and marketing duties for my internship. There have been so many tasks to complete that I may even have the opportunity to spearhead a new project with multiple interns working under my command. Who knew I'd be so good at networking my little butt into this gig???

I'm not the praying kind of girl but if I was I'd say "Lord, please let these new spectacles give me the wit of Tina Fey and the on-stage presence of Elton John."

What Was I Doing One Year Ago Today Volume II:

Welcome to the second installment of: What Was I Doing One Year Ago Today?

Last year, April 26th fell on a Sunday. As an undergrad the "Sabbath" was not reserved for church or family or relaxation, it was reserved for "holycrap-i have so much homework-what the hell was I doing all weekend-how late can I stay up to finish this-I am so stupid-how do I conjugate that verb in Italian?"

My very idiosyncratic day planner details that last year I was working on my term paper and editing my independent study paper. As a side note to myself, at the very bottom of my neatly prepared schedule I scribbled in this question, Do I have time to lay out for a bit?

Wow. I shudder to think that I was that uptight. I hope that in my next life I'm reincarnated as a dirty hippy with a tiny bird's nest growing out of my unwashed dreadlocks. I hope that I can slip my leather feet into previously owned sandals and sit on the corner of Haight - Ashburrry strumming a lonely guitar in order to exact revenge on my snotty, tight ass.

And speaking of San Francisco I hope that by the time April 26th comes around next year, I'm enrolled in graduate courses at San Francisco State University...or NYU...or at some other coastal university very far away from the desert.

SB 1070 Arizona:

To the high school where I work, Maryvale, and all of the local high schools that organized "walk-outs" today in protest of potential legislation regarding a person's legal status, I salute you. I'm proud of the students that participated, I hope you actually made it to the Capital!

These were my sentiments earlier today, this is what I wrote on my Facebook account. I felt passively passionate about it, if that's possible, if that makes sense? I think what I mean is that I felt instantly proud and glad that the high school students were taking part, taking action in something more meaningful than the latest cell phone craze. The entire school was abuzz today with political talk and helicopters and police patrol cars. But doubt began to fill my mind when I realized that some of kids merely ran out of school without knowing why, running for the nearest fast food joint, running home to take a nap. Many students couldn't understand why they were even following the crowds, what the implication of such legislation could even mean. On one hand I want to believe that they believe, on the other I know that some of them don't. At this age they are like little sheep that blindly follow whoever seems to be standing in front of the crowd, whoever can scream the loudest or act the coolest.

As the day carried on I began to doubt my convictions, I wondered how strongly I felt about this issue. However, when I got home from work I was pleasantly relieved to find that my gumption had not left me entirely, it had only taken a back seat to doubt. My younger sister arrived home from work and I asked her if she had watched the news, if she knew what was going on. We proceeded to get into a lengthy fight, her absolute disregard for humanity, her racism, her IGNORANCE ignited a whole new fight in me. She had the audacity to say things like "racial profiling is ok, singling somebody out based on the color of their skin isn't racism." I was shocked and yet I wasn't, she is another who blindly follows, much like some of the students only she's walking in the opposite direction.

I hope that regardless of your political ideals or sentiments on illegal immigration, to those that don't understand that this is a form of racism, I urge you to think deeply and contemplate the implications of such an action.

Weekend Update, a la' Tina Fey:

Welcome to Weekend Update, I'm Tina Fey.

Sources claim that earlier this week, Vampire Weekend, an indie-pop band held a "sold out show" in Tempe. Lisa Diaz, a close friend of the concert attendees said, "that was amazing, the best show I've seen live." As a New York based indie group, Vampire Weekend shimmied and shook on stage so hard that the crowd was feeling it with them. Jessica Driver, an avid fan of the group, who indulged in a Kiltlifter ale brewed locally at Four Peaks, said shortly after exiting the smoky, pot filled theater, "those boys can sing!"

***This just in, Driver also had an interview at a local marketing company. Apparently the prospect does not look promising, "the boss was a total d-bag," bemoaned Driver.***

In similar news, Jessica Driver and Kamaila Sanders visited on Thursday night the local Moroocan eatery Fez, located in Downtown Phoenix. A modern, after work hot-spot, Fez featured cute gays and hot babes. After jumping on the Metro Light Rail, Driver and Sanders ordered cappuccinos at Lux, a coffee bar that's "so hip they don't even have signage," said Sanders. Wow.

Not to be outdone, Gayle Greenhut joined Driver and Sanders for dinner Friday night at India Palace, where the basmati rice and chicken curry, "gives you a food baby like no other," reported Greenhut.

Lots of ice cream and a G-Ma's birthday party rounded out the weekend's top stories. For Weekend Update, I'm Tina Fey.

Una Parola:

So a big shout out to fellow blogger Amanda because she posted something on her page that I found super interesting. She said she had seen on another friend's page this website http://www.oneword.com/ where every reader is given one word and the objective is to write about it for 60 seconds, a free write. Thank you thank you Amanda, this was fun. My word is as follows:

Coaster:

In keeping with my Lil Wayne themed posts, and he does say it best, life is such a f***in roller coaster then it drops. First you're flying high and fast and then the bottom drops out for a bit and then you pick up speed again, zoom around the curves and come to a complete and jarring stop.

This was written between 1:06 p.m. and 1:07 p.m., shortly after lunch, shortly before entering another classroom.

Come on kiddos, take part, it feels good!

To Whom It May Concern:

I am interested in applying for the internet marking/editing/front desk/administrative assistant/HR/receptionist/coffee bitch/paper pusher/entry level position.

This jargon has consumed most of my Saturday afternoons as of late, and again I find myself at the coffee shop typing these exact words. A tiny part of myself wants to jump onto the table before me and sing "O sweet employment gods, cast down the perfect career for me, let money rain down from the heavens above like a rap singer's music video. Let those Benjamins shower over me with all of the filth and self indulgence that Lil'Wayne meant for them to."



This is not the wisest idea I've ever had. It's not the dumbest but it's certainly not the smartest. Mostly because I think the sweet older couple in front of me with matching powder blue sweaters on who watched my purse for me 5 minutes ago would be more than alarmed. They would probably leave. The last thing I want is for local businesses to lose more business, I don't want to contribute to the economic slump. I'll keep my mouth shut.

What Was I Doing One Year Ago Today Volume 1:

The picture above is of me and my sister hiking in Tucson last year

Welcome to the first installment of: What Was I Doing One Year Ago Today?

One year ago today was April 8th, 2009. It was a Wednesday. I was in my senior year of college. I was living by myself in a tiny studio casita near campus. I had a planter full of dead flowers and seeds for catnip that never seemed to flourish. One year ago today I was ordering my tickets for graduation, translating a story from Italian to English, reading for Anthropology, reading Dante's Inferno, writing reactions and vocabulary for my Italian class, researching points for my term paper, applying for a job, studying for Dr. Soren's quiz and finalmente going for a run at 6:45.

I was a busy girl. I know all of this because I looked it up in my pink, leather bound planner that Russ bought for me in Italy. Peppered throughout this day would have been class, work, my boyfriend, club meetings, making dinner...routine activities that my anal retentive brain surprisingly enough didn't feel the need to jot down neatly on the next line.

It's not that I enjoy dwelling on the past, in fact it's almost a heartache to rehash old memories; however I find that the past acts as a backdrop, a canvas in which to compare or evaluate your current life. I remember waking up everyday in that small, Pepto Bismol colored guest house with a gravel yard and no internet connection, I remember feeling like I was on an island, disconnected completely from the world. The internet did not consume my life, satellite did not consume my life, I spent my nights reading for class or for pleasure: "The Diary of an Irish Slave Girl" or "Il sentiero dei nidi di ragno."

I think the trickiest part of my day back then would be walking quickly home past the halfway house that smelled like stale mattresses and cigarettes on 6th street. Scurrying across the sidewalk and averting my gaze from the shriveled up old Asian man who shuffled his feet and stared blankly into the distance, mumbling to nobody in particular. Maybe he was mumbling to me. Either way he looked like a sticky raisin, the tiniest one from the bottom of the box, stuffed in the corner, the one that is so small and forgotten that you have to shake the box to get it to come tumbling out.

So I think overall I lead a pretty happy existence. I grew catnip and studied really hard and avoided homeless drunks who who made, at best, sloppy bedroom eyes at me on my way home from school.

I Feel Like a Robot:

The enticing thing about technology is that it provides instant gratification. I can receive compliments and vent to nobody in particular and discover new recipes and download great music without even getting up from my desk. It's unbelievably rewarding to reconnect with long lost friends or collect and trade songs like we did with paper dolls as kids. My computer is a beautiful drug, a giant white pill that pulls me in and pulls me under. On the surface level it feels good to establish immediate relationships, it's so easy and casual. But there is also something very disingenuous about hitting "send" rather than picking up the phone or meeting face to face. It begins to feel dishonest and fake to rely on a bunch of cables and buttons to communicate, or mis-communicate in most cases. I met my friend for drinks downtown last night and she detailed to me how because of a picture on Facebook involving her boyfriend she began to spiral into a frenzy of paranoia. The issue resolved itself as we knew it would, her boyfriend loves her and she had nothing to worry about, it was all a bit of mis-communication. The point is that my beautiful friend is a confident, intelligent woman. She is getting her masters, she's an advocate for human rights, she's fluent in multiple languages. She is not the kind of woman who stresses. And yet she did. Whether it's Facebook or Myspace or Twitter, these social media hubs blur the line between reality and our skewed perception of it.

Even in writing this blog I'm advertising myself a certain way. These are my thoughts, these are my ideas but this is NOT the real me. This is only the me that you perceive, no amount of reading this will unlock who I am. I'm spinning my words for effect, and you're probably falling for it, as we all do.

I created an account on OKCupid.com several months ago. I uploaded a picture, I filled out the questionnaire. I tried to give those boys something to fall for on there too. My Gmail fills up daily with responses like "You're cute, let's chat." "What's your favorite Radiohead album?" "I don't usually do this, but how are you. Let's hang out." I've never responded. Ever. Not to one of them. I think it's because I find it so shiesty, so calculated. Whatever happened to a chance encounter at a coffee shop that turns into true love? Maybe it's because I can't bare the thought of being rejected through one more piece of technology. After all these years it's always the same, a call, a text, an email, a Facebook message. It's too much. Hiding behind a computer screen feels very easy but it's cold and plastic and that's very fitting because that's how you feel afterwards. I feel empty and bored after reading the "News Feed" on Facebook, it's like making a meal out of saltines and water. It fills your belly but it isn't satisfying or rewarding, it's bland and it only serves to fill a void.

I can't say that I will stop using sites like Facebook, it's a great marketing tool. You wouldn't even be reading my blog if it weren't for the platform, the voice that it gives me. My friend from above, the paranoid Superwoman, deleted her account and I couldn't feel happier for her. I don't know about deletion but maybe I'll start with a slow retraction.