So, I moved. I left New York. You might have realized from Georgette’s super nice goodbye post, or you may not have, because you don’t really care about my life. Totally understandable.
This is me and a friend on moving day. We like wearing white shirts that much our teethy smiles.
I was going to write a “goodbye to new york” post, about staying and leaving, tall buildings, good friends, bad winters, etc. I tried, I really did. But I just can’t do it. Maybe I’m not ready to say goodbye to New York, but mostly, I think I’m not ready to say goodbye to anywhere. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. (Even after college! Weren’t they supposed to teach me that? Shall I sue?) Continue reading
Good luck in tackling this list. Might I suggest taking a nap before attempting to do so.
1. Write about your procrastination (as exampled here). This always makes it seem a little more professional. I always say—if you take notes on it, it’s real.
2. Write yourself a doctor’s note. Hand that note to someone who is waiting for you to o something. Diagnosis: procrastination.
Symptoms: eating. Watching T.V. Napping. Painting your nails.
Treatment: Uhhhhh, I honestly don’t know. But write something scientific like, “patient undergoing trial treatments includes listening to music while staring at her ceiling.” Continue reading
Season to season the music I listen to changes. With days becoming longer and hotter. This time of year I prefer listening to lengthy and lyrically hopeful music. Depending on the artist, a long song carries me through a series of auditory experiences I very well need to take my mind off the too warm outfits I always wear at the wrong time. Here’s some artists I’ve been listening to lately.
Every now and then a feeling of absolute dread comes over me. I start with the I’m never getting a real job, never ever going to buy lovely Diane Von Furstenburg wrap dress, and always going to cry myself to sleep with my yellow lab Clyde licking tears from my face. It’s an inevitable feeling. One hellbent on crushing my soul and driving me towards Hershey’s Symphony bars, but then I figure “If this isn’t the perfect time to be a poor writer, when else would be?” When else would be? If you’re young, broke, and full of the postgraduate mopes, this is an excellent time to throw yourself into your work and make things happen. Inventiveness isn’t a thing of the past, but the way of the future.
Every now and then I find myself absorbed in a book which is uncannily parallel to my own. Last week while perusing the fiction section of my library, every book I picked up was either a murder mystery, or an oppressed woman’s coming of age depress-fest (woman marries wrong, devastated by pregnancy, life ruined as she watches her best friend have the best life ever with her stout husband who disgusts her kind of deal). Eventually, after countless minutes walking up and down damp and poorly lighted rows, I came across a novel titled Going Postal by Stephen Jaramillo. The initial no holds barred humor and enthusiasm of the synopsis shook me to my creative core. That’s when I knew I had to read it. Continue reading
There was a time, long, long ago, that I was excited about grocery shopping. I had just moved out on my own, first time out of a dorm and with no meal swipe card, when meal planning felt like a statement. I felt in charge. Adult. Inspired.
That lasted about two days. Maybe five meals.
I soon realized how much I ate. I mean, I’m hungry all the time. I eat breakfast, and then I’m hungry again, lunch, dinner, second dinner, etc. It gets to be a lot of food. A lot of money. A lot of time and energy.
And so I, as so many of my comrades before me, have fallen to the granola bar meal. If you find yourself in a similar situation, here’s a handy dandy guide.
Every now and then I have to remind myself to cut myself some slack. For the past year and change my motto has been If not writing, read. If not reading, write and I’m burning myself out. I’ve taken this as an opportunity to unwind and enjoy my down time by watching my favorite movies.
I tend to go for films with creative, yet sensitive characters who have a pension for offending people with their snappy, albeit curmudgeonly dispositions. I also love movies for aspects of cinematography, style, and mood even if the cast or plot falls short for me. I want to be invested in the feel of world in which the characters are living and evolving in. Here are some titles which may appeal to your poor writer sensibilities. Continue reading
First comes the handshake, then the birdlike head bobbing accompanied by the ever polite, “Hey, nice to me you. I already know you don’t give two damns what my name is, but hey, I’ll tell you anyway.” After that comes the big one, the sink or swim question that will either repel or encourage further conversation. “So what do you do?”
Generally speaking, most people couldn’t care less about your occupation unless A) He or she’s a gold digger, or B) They’re looking to do what you do (aka brown-nosing and/or networking). Throughout my life I’ve seen the pervasive image of artists meeting fellow artists as a meeting of the gods on Mount Olympus. Each artist overwhelmed having met someone on their level wearing beautifully banded olive leaves around their heads, keen on making the world a more bearable place, or tearing it to pieces through truth and enlightenment. To be a total debbie downer, this simply isn’t so. Continue reading
Maybe it’s that bid towards authenticity that everyone’s raging about or maybe I’m a product of my hipster generation, but I really hate the idea of “branding” yourself. Klout scores, Twitter presence, page views, being an expert. If you want to be a writer or have an authority, branding yourself into a niche (preferably one you like) is the best way to get noticed.
I bring this up because apparently, I’ve been branding myself wrong on my LinkedIn profile. I guess saying “My name is Georgette, and I’m nice!” isn’t the right thing to capture an employer’s attention. Continue reading
Having been a student of literature and creative writing, I’ve had my fair share of workshops, five to be exact. The world of writing is one punctuated with ever growing polarizations of opinion and the workshop experience tends to be one of them. With anything, there will be those who will reap immense benefits out of the experience, while others will want to bury their heads into the sand with no desire to look back on the experience.
Oh, how I’ve got stories. I’ll just tell you this one though.
I took a fiction writing class my freshman year of college and boy was I stoked. The first day of class I had a new composition notebook and my favorite Pilot, extra fine, black ink pen. Excitement was building and I could hardly contain myself. As the weeks rolled by we all began to get a sense of each other’s writing through writing exercises. Our work ranged from the quietly detailed to outright Bukowski styled debauchery. Continue reading