I was just introduced to "Don't Trust Me" by 3Oh!3. I felt like a loser for being the only one in the room who didn't know all the lyrics to it...but, wow. It's hard to make me feel awkward anymore, but this song did a good job of it. I realized halfway through that I actually had heard it before. My friends were like, "You've seriously never heard this song?" I hate when that happens.
It's because of friends from newspaper that I know and like songs by 3Oh!3 and Cobra Starship.
Love,
Juilana
Thursday, July 30, 2009
No cemetary view this time...
I just got back from newspaper camp again, although I probably shouldn't call it that since it's actually yearbook camp that makes slight ammendments for my school's newspaper staff. Our dorm building, called "Oceanview," didn't look out on a cemetary this time.
That picture was last year. This time it was a Jag dealership and a parking lot. I liked that better.
I'm so tired. We had to get up at seven every day and didn't go to bed until after one. On Tuesday night, we were up until midnight working on our paper. I broke down. Fortunately, no one pays attention to what I do, but always feel bad about crying in front of people because it's awkward for them.
The new editor-in-chief who I've known for a year now still can't remember that I was on the paper last year. He keeps thinking I'm new and clueless, asking me if I know how to write headlines. He talks down to me, and I don't like it. I know that's just the way he is, but still. He doesn't listen to me when I give suggestions. He looks at me and looks away. All the new sophomores on the staff were supporting one of my ideas, and he wouldn't even give us a yes or no. He only took suggestions from the juniors he liked. Only people important enough to warrant his attention.
Another thing, he can't remember anyone's names. I understand not being able to remember 16 names the first time, but he never learned them. Every time he called a name, it was wrong. If you're going to tell me what to do, at least look like you're trying to learn my name.
I probably shouldn't talk though because I have a great memory for names. My friend and I were in charge of typing up the staff list, and I knew everyone's first and last names, even the new kids, and I only had to fix the spelling of two of them. (This one kid has a 15-letter last name and I only forgot one silent H. I think that's pretty good.) She was shocked I knew everyone after two days. I don't do it on purpose, I just like to connect faces with names, so it's kind of innate. Our editor-in-chief should at least get first names right. Seriously.
Aside from my quiet nature and lack of leadership skills, I could never be in charge because I can't talk down to people. I wouldn't be able to tell my friends what to do. I would always feel like it's not my place to boss people around because they're my equals. I would have to run it like a democracy. I would consult the staff on all decisions, but I never want to be editor-in-chief anyway.
I got an award at the closing ceremony for "Hardest Worker" from our camp newspaper instructor. I must do something right.
Love,
Juliana
That picture was last year. This time it was a Jag dealership and a parking lot. I liked that better.
I'm so tired. We had to get up at seven every day and didn't go to bed until after one. On Tuesday night, we were up until midnight working on our paper. I broke down. Fortunately, no one pays attention to what I do, but always feel bad about crying in front of people because it's awkward for them.
The new editor-in-chief who I've known for a year now still can't remember that I was on the paper last year. He keeps thinking I'm new and clueless, asking me if I know how to write headlines. He talks down to me, and I don't like it. I know that's just the way he is, but still. He doesn't listen to me when I give suggestions. He looks at me and looks away. All the new sophomores on the staff were supporting one of my ideas, and he wouldn't even give us a yes or no. He only took suggestions from the juniors he liked. Only people important enough to warrant his attention.
Another thing, he can't remember anyone's names. I understand not being able to remember 16 names the first time, but he never learned them. Every time he called a name, it was wrong. If you're going to tell me what to do, at least look like you're trying to learn my name.
I probably shouldn't talk though because I have a great memory for names. My friend and I were in charge of typing up the staff list, and I knew everyone's first and last names, even the new kids, and I only had to fix the spelling of two of them. (This one kid has a 15-letter last name and I only forgot one silent H. I think that's pretty good.) She was shocked I knew everyone after two days. I don't do it on purpose, I just like to connect faces with names, so it's kind of innate. Our editor-in-chief should at least get first names right. Seriously.
Aside from my quiet nature and lack of leadership skills, I could never be in charge because I can't talk down to people. I wouldn't be able to tell my friends what to do. I would always feel like it's not my place to boss people around because they're my equals. I would have to run it like a democracy. I would consult the staff on all decisions, but I never want to be editor-in-chief anyway.
I got an award at the closing ceremony for "Hardest Worker" from our camp newspaper instructor. I must do something right.
Love,
Juliana
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Dear annoying people of the world...
Dear e-mail-duplicate senders,
Thank you for sending me that dirty joke/picture of a dog in bunny ears/political tirade/Jesus chain letter. I appreciated your thinking about me and throwing it my way. I enjoyed the six seconds I spent skimming before hitting the delete button. However, I couldn't help but notice that the latest Jesus-with-puppies picture looked familiar. You sent it to me two months ago...and another time four months before that. I am well-acquainted with the puppy Jesus e-mail, which alerts me that my decision to forward or delete this e-mail determines my eternal resting place. Are you passing this on because you believe that the Jesus puppy e-mail will send you on a direct flight to hell, or did you just forget? Please stop being so cavalier in your e-mail forwarding that you forget which e-mails you've forwarded in the past. Usually, they're not good enough to be passed around a second time.
Dear encroaching shoppers,
I hear the shuffle of your Crocs and the faint squeak of your shopping cart behind me as I'm trying to figure out what the heck mom meant by "the cooking oil with the red cap." You stealthily slide in next to me, reach across my face and grab some Crisco. I move to the left, out of your way. At this moment, you decide the Crisco wasn't what you were looking for and take a few steps to the left yourself. I then back up and pretend to be enamored with the salad dressing on the other side of the aisle when suddenly, you're done with the oil and it's Hidden Valley time! You pivot your cart on it's back left wheel and park it on the back of my shoe. I take this opportunity to run back to the oil side when you move your cart and perfectly position it in the middle of the aisle, and I, being the clumsy person I am, almost trip and fall head first into your carton of organic eggs. See where I'm going with this? Personal space still applies in a crowded store. The trick is to be as unobtrusive as possible. Ninjas, baby. Learn from them.
Dear extreme Michael Jackson mourners,
It's horrible that the life of this amazing performer was cut short. I feel for his family and friends who will miss him so much. However, fans, you did not know him personally. He was 50 years old and didn't appear to be the epitome of health. 50 was considered "old" 100 years ago. To be honest, I wasn't shocked until I saw how much media attention it commanded. You won't miss Michael Jackson; you didn't know him. You will miss his music, which will still remain a legacy forever. It makes sense to send some love to his friends and family (I almost cried when his daughter took the microphone at the funeral), but even today, the day after his funeral, talk shows and newspapers still address this as if Obama was assassinated. He had an awesome voice, and God knows how many people (including myself) have tried to learn the moonwalk and the Thriller dance...but you didn't lose your best friend in Michael. His funeral is over, let the man rest in peace now.
Dear iB2kewl4U,
U can unerstand mee wen i tawk liek dis? OMG u gotz da L337 $|<1LL$. U tawk 2 ur freinz liek dis all da tiem. Unfortunately, I don't care about your whatever skills. I don't want to spend extra time decoding your chatspeak sentences. Type out the word, you lazy teenagers. My sister got a letter in the mail from her friend from camp and she had to have me read and decode the handwritten chat acronyms. I lost some respect for that girl. She wasted my energy. Grow up, type as if you've mastered English, and stop thinking it's cool to change the spelling of common words with no purpose behind it. It stopped being cool after 5th grade. Cut it out, you're being a dork and insulting your own intelligence, as well as that of the person you're talking to.
That last sentence sounded weirdly formal, but I took a practice SAT the other day and I guess I'm in the mode.
Love,
Juliana
Thank you for sending me that dirty joke/picture of a dog in bunny ears/political tirade/Jesus chain letter. I appreciated your thinking about me and throwing it my way. I enjoyed the six seconds I spent skimming before hitting the delete button. However, I couldn't help but notice that the latest Jesus-with-puppies picture looked familiar. You sent it to me two months ago...and another time four months before that. I am well-acquainted with the puppy Jesus e-mail, which alerts me that my decision to forward or delete this e-mail determines my eternal resting place. Are you passing this on because you believe that the Jesus puppy e-mail will send you on a direct flight to hell, or did you just forget? Please stop being so cavalier in your e-mail forwarding that you forget which e-mails you've forwarded in the past. Usually, they're not good enough to be passed around a second time.
Dear encroaching shoppers,
I hear the shuffle of your Crocs and the faint squeak of your shopping cart behind me as I'm trying to figure out what the heck mom meant by "the cooking oil with the red cap." You stealthily slide in next to me, reach across my face and grab some Crisco. I move to the left, out of your way. At this moment, you decide the Crisco wasn't what you were looking for and take a few steps to the left yourself. I then back up and pretend to be enamored with the salad dressing on the other side of the aisle when suddenly, you're done with the oil and it's Hidden Valley time! You pivot your cart on it's back left wheel and park it on the back of my shoe. I take this opportunity to run back to the oil side when you move your cart and perfectly position it in the middle of the aisle, and I, being the clumsy person I am, almost trip and fall head first into your carton of organic eggs. See where I'm going with this? Personal space still applies in a crowded store. The trick is to be as unobtrusive as possible. Ninjas, baby. Learn from them.
Dear extreme Michael Jackson mourners,
It's horrible that the life of this amazing performer was cut short. I feel for his family and friends who will miss him so much. However, fans, you did not know him personally. He was 50 years old and didn't appear to be the epitome of health. 50 was considered "old" 100 years ago. To be honest, I wasn't shocked until I saw how much media attention it commanded. You won't miss Michael Jackson; you didn't know him. You will miss his music, which will still remain a legacy forever. It makes sense to send some love to his friends and family (I almost cried when his daughter took the microphone at the funeral), but even today, the day after his funeral, talk shows and newspapers still address this as if Obama was assassinated. He had an awesome voice, and God knows how many people (including myself) have tried to learn the moonwalk and the Thriller dance...but you didn't lose your best friend in Michael. His funeral is over, let the man rest in peace now.
Dear iB2kewl4U,
U can unerstand mee wen i tawk liek dis? OMG u gotz da L337 $|<1LL$. U tawk 2 ur freinz liek dis all da tiem. Unfortunately, I don't care about your whatever skills. I don't want to spend extra time decoding your chatspeak sentences. Type out the word, you lazy teenagers. My sister got a letter in the mail from her friend from camp and she had to have me read and decode the handwritten chat acronyms. I lost some respect for that girl. She wasted my energy. Grow up, type as if you've mastered English, and stop thinking it's cool to change the spelling of common words with no purpose behind it. It stopped being cool after 5th grade. Cut it out, you're being a dork and insulting your own intelligence, as well as that of the person you're talking to.
That last sentence sounded weirdly formal, but I took a practice SAT the other day and I guess I'm in the mode.
Love,
Juliana
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)