Dear Internet,
I would like to start by apologizing for not being around for the last month, not that anyone reads this, but let's pretend. I have been exceptionally busy having a life which unfortunately doesn't leave much time for blogging. And I'm sorry to those that took offense at the above comment, but let's be real, non-bloggers constantly ridicule bloggers for not having lives, though, in out defense if we didn't have lives we wouldn't have anything to blog about in the first place. Now, if I had any sort of time management skills I would have a time each day or week set aside for blogging, but again, my life is insane.
I work. A lot. Like a ton. Like all the time. And when I'm not working I am typically driving or in transition to someplace else. Travel time takes up a good portion of my life also. My week, starting Mondays looks something like this:
Monday and Tuesday - Wake up and go to work at the Going Out Guide 7 am-5ish pm, from here I find someone in DC to put up with me for a few hours so that I can avoid my parents and all the uncomfortable questions my mother likes to ask me.
Wednesday - This is the craziest day of my week. It starts like Monday and Tuesday, but I leave at 1 pm so that I can be at work in Richmond at Images by 4 pm. Then I work until 8 pm. Then I have sister bonding time, otherwise known as being overly critical of the contestants of So You Think You Can Dance. Brownies are usually a part of this. I get home around eleven and pass out, hopefully after I've brushed my teeth.
Thursday and Friday - I get up sometime between nine and ten. Eat, obsessively clean my apartment and kill all bugs I see, tell someone about the bugs I just killed, put something presentable on and bike to work at noon where I stay again until eight. Thursdays I watch SYTYCD results.
Saturday - I work from 9 am-5 pm. This sucks, mostly because of the 9 am part. It often prevents me from doing all that I want to on Friday nights, or I just don't sleep.
Sundays are a toss up depending on whether I chose to dance in DC the night before, stay with my parents, or crash in the city.
So I work about fifty hours a week and drive at least ten and am on the metro for another five each week, and as you can seeI am going, going, going, all the time. Though, this is preferable to having too much spare time. I don't deal well with having to occupy myself and when I have free time it's usually spent nit-picking over stupid things.
The Going Out Guide, or for those of you that don't know what that is, I am an intern for Washington Post-Digital, or the website. I enjoy it. It gives me an excuse to look cute most days. Their dress code only states that employees can't wear sweatpants and shorts, so most people keep it fairly casual, but I like wearing skirts and heels and being dressed better than most of the people in the office. It's comparable to going to church with my parents in that I can usually count on being the best dressed one there. I won't even get into makeup, or the lack thereof and the ill applied makeup , that's a rant for another day.
I spend my time there fact checking and calling people and getting transferred to different people and after I've done this and eventually found someone to email me a press release with all of an events information, I put it into the calendar. Then I write a sentence describing the event, these are supposed to funny, but I'm not funny so I've given up trying to be. Sometimes I write a paragraph of two in addition to the "teaser" sentence. So, if you check out the Guide, and want to know about all the county fairs in the DC Metro area I will have put that information up. And let me tell you what, people that run county fairs do not have their shit together.
Throughout the day I spend a good portion on Gchat figuring out what I'm going to do that evening. It usually involves dinner and watching a movie/tv at someone else's house. I don't know why, but I just don't do well in the suburbs. I mean, I have to be doing something and if I'm not doing something I like to know that I could be doing something that is only happening a few blocks away.
I love my parents, but they don't do anything except watch criminal investigation shows. And it's difficult to have a conversation with them without them saying something like, "If you went to church...wouldn't happen." Boys for example, I can count on my friends telling me that their a waste of time, or agreeing with me that certain ones are assholes, etc, but my mother is quick to point out that I'm too abrassive, aggressive, intimidating, not sensitive enough, not soft enough, too confident, etc. And I'm always like what? Did you just suggest that I need to be meek and vulnerable and passive? Because I can't stand those type of people. Well maybe you should try being nice. Mother, nice? Nice is a word we've been over. It's a word that is used when you don't have anything better or worse to say about someone. I hope that people have a stronger opinion of me either way... Our conversations go on like that, unless she complains about me not liking her. She says that. And I have finally started aggreeing. Yes, Mom, I can't stand being around you. But really, it's because she says stuff like that. I mean, really? It's so depressing.
My dad is a little bit better. He isn't as intrusive. And we've gotten to the point where we can talk more openly about what I do, even if he doesn't approve, I think he's finally realized that it's helathier for us to talk to each other than constantly argue about who or what is right.
When I'm in D.C., as previously stated, I'm out most of the time. But, when I'm in Richmond I stay in most of the time. My apartment is really starting to feel like home. I have finally hung things on the walls. It's nothing fabulous, but it certainly makes a difference. I still have tons of things that I want to do.
I spent last Friday cleaning and de-bugging. I cleaned every surface in the house except for those in my roommate's room. I made a special trip to the hardware store and bought boric acid and fly tape, for our roach and fruitfly problems. The fruitflys were a gift from my mother that accompanied a pineapple. The roaches came with the apartment. You may be asking yourself why my landlord hasn't done anything about this, let me explain, roaches own Richmond. They are everywhere. And because I live on a ground level apartment, they're probably worse.
After I cleaned out all of the kitchen cabinets, I mixed cocoa with the boric acid and spooned thin lines of it around the edges of all the cabinets, into any and all cracks, holes and spaces between the wall and floorboards. Then I shot Combat into many of the same cracks and sprinkled more of the boric acid mixture under the stove and refrigerator. The fly tape was hung and has mostly solved that problem, and while fly tape is gross it's also satisfying to see all the flies that are not interrupting my breakfast anymore. The roaches and other brown bugs are becoming fewer and I am feeling better about living here.
Of course keeping the floors swept and the dishes clean also helps. We do not leave dirty dishes in the sink ever. It's awesome. We eat our meal and then wash our dishes as soon as we are done eating. I had heard of this before and seen it take place growing up when I would have dinner at friend's houses, but never have I experienced it until now. Mind you, it is largely due to the bugs. They keep us motivated.
I could go on, but I feel that most of you probably stopped reading about three paragraphs ago.
-ap
Showing posts with label Washington Post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Washington Post. Show all posts
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
why my summer is going to be better than your summer
"Are you nervous?"
"Not yet, kinda?"
"Well you should be, it's the motherfucking Post."
That was the conversation I had with my roommate sometime on Monday, after dinner? Monday evening was kind of a blur.
Michelle and Elizabeth came down for the weekend and we had a very lovely time. We saw 'I love you, Man' at The Byrd, and bought fake "glitter-girl" tattoos at CVS, and then went to sleep. Kind of lame, but we were really tired, and I feel like I was tired from staying up late on Friday (because I took a friend to see St. Vincent for her birthday). So we slept and then thrifted for most of Sunday. But not before we covered our bodies in fake tattoos. I had them behind my ears, on the back of my neck, on my hips, on my back, on my ankle, writsts, and of course one on my chest. So hardcore. We almost passed for Richmond kids, almost. At Goodwill Michelle bought five pairs of shoes. Five pairs. The fact that they had five, cute pairs of shoes in her size amazes me.
Afterward we made our way to Charisse and Sterling's to eat their food and ended up staying a lot longer and playing Rock Band for a few hours. We left around ten, and ended up hanging out at my friend Malcolm's house until Elizabeth started to fall asleep. So I took them back to my apartment and then walked back to Malcolm's to finish watching 'Alien' -- I didn't make it. I fell asleep within an hour after I got there and woke up in his living room where one of his roommates was asleep on one of the other futons. This is what college is supposed to be, right? Waking up disoriented? Yes.
I eventually made it home and after a hearty brekfrist we went to Belle Isle. They left around three and I stayed and read and managed to not get sunburned. This is quite the feat. I mean, I'm not going to be tan, ever, but I hate getting sunburned and sunscreen has become part of my morning routine. Also, my freckles are coming out and I am so excited. God, I am so vain. But really, I love my freckles, and am okay with being a narcissist.
Jessica and I had a very healthy dinner of grilled cheese and smoothies over a not-so-friendly game of Scrabble. I won thanks to the word 'perky', I got a triple word score and a double letter score with the K. The score was 205 to 188? I don't remember exactly what Jessica's score was. After that was the blur. By the time Spencer got to my apartment I was gone. And thankfully Malcolm moved my car, and Jessica didn't take pictures of me hula hooping.
Spencer left really early the next morning and reminded me to get up in time to make it to my interview. So, I got up around seven, and by eight I wanted to puke my guts out, but it didn't happen, so I showered and got dressed and attempted to look like I had it together, which I am thankfully able to do. And I made it to my doctor's appointment, on time, and left for Arlington around eleven. At this point the hangover had subsided.
I don't know what was with people on 95, but everyone was cruising in the left lane and I wanted to punch them in the face, but I pictured myself in a monster truck crushing all of them instead. By the time I reached Dale City my gas light was on, and I decided to stop by my parents' house, get some food and get gas on my way back to 95. I still had 45 minutes to get to Arlington, and I would have been fifteen minutes early if I hadn't missed my exit. I had to call for directions after I crossed the Memorial Bridge. So, by the time I got to the building I parked, and then I put money in the meter and then the meter decided to FAIL-out of order. So I drove to the next meter and the same thing happened, and while I was scrounging around my bag for change I dropped my notebook, and the cover broke. And some nice man told me that my car would be fine so I finally made it into the building.
I didn't have to wait long, which was nice, seeing as I was sososo nervous and doing everything I could to keep from fidgeting. The editor of the Going Out Guide and I made our way to a small room. I thought I was more prepared, but everytime she asked me something I blurted out another favorite thing in DC and how that related to the question, and somehow this impressed her. She seemed to appreciate my enthusiasm despite my shaking her hand for too long...yeah, I had a couple of those moments.
But I got it, and that's all that matters. I got the official offer-email today and my first day will be June 10th. The jist is updating the guide. So, if you want to know what's happening in Ashburn on August 7th, I will have come up with something enticing to say about it. TA DA!
"Not yet, kinda?"
"Well you should be, it's the motherfucking Post."
That was the conversation I had with my roommate sometime on Monday, after dinner? Monday evening was kind of a blur.
Michelle and Elizabeth came down for the weekend and we had a very lovely time. We saw 'I love you, Man' at The Byrd, and bought fake "glitter-girl" tattoos at CVS, and then went to sleep. Kind of lame, but we were really tired, and I feel like I was tired from staying up late on Friday (because I took a friend to see St. Vincent for her birthday). So we slept and then thrifted for most of Sunday. But not before we covered our bodies in fake tattoos. I had them behind my ears, on the back of my neck, on my hips, on my back, on my ankle, writsts, and of course one on my chest. So hardcore. We almost passed for Richmond kids, almost. At Goodwill Michelle bought five pairs of shoes. Five pairs. The fact that they had five, cute pairs of shoes in her size amazes me.
Afterward we made our way to Charisse and Sterling's to eat their food and ended up staying a lot longer and playing Rock Band for a few hours. We left around ten, and ended up hanging out at my friend Malcolm's house until Elizabeth started to fall asleep. So I took them back to my apartment and then walked back to Malcolm's to finish watching 'Alien' -- I didn't make it. I fell asleep within an hour after I got there and woke up in his living room where one of his roommates was asleep on one of the other futons. This is what college is supposed to be, right? Waking up disoriented? Yes.
I eventually made it home and after a hearty brekfrist we went to Belle Isle. They left around three and I stayed and read and managed to not get sunburned. This is quite the feat. I mean, I'm not going to be tan, ever, but I hate getting sunburned and sunscreen has become part of my morning routine. Also, my freckles are coming out and I am so excited. God, I am so vain. But really, I love my freckles, and am okay with being a narcissist.
Jessica and I had a very healthy dinner of grilled cheese and smoothies over a not-so-friendly game of Scrabble. I won thanks to the word 'perky', I got a triple word score and a double letter score with the K. The score was 205 to 188? I don't remember exactly what Jessica's score was. After that was the blur. By the time Spencer got to my apartment I was gone. And thankfully Malcolm moved my car, and Jessica didn't take pictures of me hula hooping.
Spencer left really early the next morning and reminded me to get up in time to make it to my interview. So, I got up around seven, and by eight I wanted to puke my guts out, but it didn't happen, so I showered and got dressed and attempted to look like I had it together, which I am thankfully able to do. And I made it to my doctor's appointment, on time, and left for Arlington around eleven. At this point the hangover had subsided.
I don't know what was with people on 95, but everyone was cruising in the left lane and I wanted to punch them in the face, but I pictured myself in a monster truck crushing all of them instead. By the time I reached Dale City my gas light was on, and I decided to stop by my parents' house, get some food and get gas on my way back to 95. I still had 45 minutes to get to Arlington, and I would have been fifteen minutes early if I hadn't missed my exit. I had to call for directions after I crossed the Memorial Bridge. So, by the time I got to the building I parked, and then I put money in the meter and then the meter decided to FAIL-out of order. So I drove to the next meter and the same thing happened, and while I was scrounging around my bag for change I dropped my notebook, and the cover broke. And some nice man told me that my car would be fine so I finally made it into the building.
I didn't have to wait long, which was nice, seeing as I was sososo nervous and doing everything I could to keep from fidgeting. The editor of the Going Out Guide and I made our way to a small room. I thought I was more prepared, but everytime she asked me something I blurted out another favorite thing in DC and how that related to the question, and somehow this impressed her. She seemed to appreciate my enthusiasm despite my shaking her hand for too long...yeah, I had a couple of those moments.
But I got it, and that's all that matters. I got the official offer-email today and my first day will be June 10th. The jist is updating the guide. So, if you want to know what's happening in Ashburn on August 7th, I will have come up with something enticing to say about it. TA DA!
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