Lana Del Rey- Video Games
Lana Del Rey- Video Games
I write little arbitrary notes to myself on my phone, computer or (throwback) notebook paper constantly. I wanted to compile a list of goals that I’ve set but I’m unsure what time frame I should set for them. I think the next 2-3 months is reasonable but it will depend on my future career situation. I’ll update when I get a better idea. Here we go:
As for more long-term goals (things to complete at some point in life)
I have so many more that I think of everyday, so chances are I will edit this and add more as I check others off. It’s really an unending list. But I’m thrilled to get started.
For the month of June, I signed up to complete the Writing 101 blogging challenge that is written on the daily post. I received emails each day and was able to complete some of the challenges but found myself either wanting to write way too much or just being too busy during certain days to complete the challenge. I saved each prompt as a draft on this blog and I’ve decided to start over for the month of July and try to actually follow through with the assignment. This somewhat defeats the purpose of the challenge since part of its intention was to have others critique your writing and encourage you to keep up, but I’m going to use it as more of a habit forming exercise and to get myself into the routine of writing every single day. Although I’m dealing with the stress of several things right now, I think this is an excellent habit to get myself into and there shouldn’t be too many excuses that I can come up with. Here’s to the beginning of Writing 101: A delayed response.
I come upon a letter on my morning run in the park. It’s folded in a blue sealed envelope and addressed to a Miss Evangeline Elder. The envelope hasn’t listed a delivery nor a return address. I decide that the only chance I have of finding its intended destination is to open it. In a gorgeous prose, three pages of longing, regret, and heartbreak come pouring off the pages. I briefly wonder if the letter was ever really meant to be delivered. On the back of last page is an address. Scribbled down in a careless manner is 453 Lincoln St. Augusta, Maine. The passion flowing from the pages convinces me that the recipient needs to see what I have just read. I glance at the map on my phone and realize just how close I am from the address. I walk a mile south and turn into a cul-de-sac. The middle house all the way down is number 453. I ring the bell and a tall, blonde woman opens the door. Her eyes are swollen and she appears taken by surprise of the guest at her door. I hand her the letter and explain how I came across it. Her body freezes as her face goes white as a ghost. She thanks me for the delivery and shuts the door quickly behind her, leaving me to wonder if I made the right choice.
Today, I was transported through time to West Bloomfield, Michigan, in the winter of 1999, to the house of my Aunt, Uncle and cousins Matt and Chris. I am nine years old. My brother Ryan is twelve. Matt is fifteen and Chris is eleven. As my mother pulls into the driveway in our Toyota Siena van, Ryan and I can hardly contain our excitement. We’re undoing our seat belts and standing up in the car as our mother tells us to sit down and gives us the spiel to be on our best behavior while staying at Uncle Mike and Aunt Karen’s house.
During the four-hour car ride from Dayton, Ohio, we distracted ourselves on the trip the best way we knew how. I started off playing on my purple Gameboy Color while routinely looking up out the window to avoid getting carsick. I follow this by listening to pushing the back button on TLC’s “Unpretty” to hear it over and over, occasionally switching to Now That’s What I Call Music! 3 and The Backstreet Boy’s “Millenium” album on my Bose CD player with foam headphones.
Visiting our cousins is one of our favorite things in the world, and always involves a constant stream of near maniacal laughter and leaves us with affectionate memories that I never fail to recount to everyone upon my return to Ohio. I irritate my Dad with the repetition of these stories as I recall starting off several times telling him in my most enthusiastic voice, “Hey Dad! One time when I was….” and he finished my sentence, “…at Matt and Chris’?” “How did you know that I was going to say that?” I demanded. He informed me that it was all I could talk about after returning from a visit up north.
I switch the sliding van door button to red, and pull on it in an exaggerated manner, the way we had to with this style of door, and see my cousin Matt standing in front of his new white GM Saturn, looking more mature than I remembered. A sudden flush of shyness overtakes me as I slink behind my mother and brother as we approach him in the driveway. This happens often when I’m introduced to a situation that I haven’t faced for a while and I feel unsure about whether the way I remember my connection to someone still stands and matters to them as much as it does to me. Matt greets my mother as she comments on his car and jokes about how scary the roads are now that he has a license. He then hugs my brother and comes up to me. “Hi Jordy,” he says. I give him a big hug and the rush of memories come streaming back. He is a little different to me in some ways. A little more grown up, naturally, but also appears to have different priorities and perceptions to what is around him. I am happy to see that there are no significant changes in how he acts towards me. I have a funny sort of attachment to him. I always follow him around and want to be in the same room as him because he makes everyone, especially me, laugh ourselves to tears with just about every comment he makes. I am sometimes a little worried that perhaps my behavior towards him is bothersome, but if it is, he never lets on.
Like all places, the inside of Matt & Chris’ house has a certain smell that I will always remember. The scent is very profound where us kids spend the majority of our time: in the basement. It is a pleasant smell that isn’t easily described. A mixture of cool air escaping from below the basement steps and the concrete floors giving off a strangely refreshing aroma fills me with excitement and joy as I settle into the tranquil awareness that I’ve returned to this familiar spot.
This is the first day of a writing assignment on the Daily Post called Writing 101. The general idea is to get people to write about different arbitrary topics to improve their writing and gain feedback from the other blogging participants. This assignment was on my mind for the past couple weeks and I had really been anticipating it’s beginning so I don’t what it was that led me to put it off until the last minute. I think part of it had to do with the fact that I didn’t really know what to expect from this endeavor and the burden of wondering if I would actually be able to follow through with the task of posting every single week day in June(which I clearly didn’t, but I am now!). I usually like to go over my writing in depth to make sure it conveys exactly what I’m trying to say instead of quickly jotting down some paragraphs and posting them on a whim. I worry at times about coming off a certain way even though I know how useless that line of thinking is. Instilling the habit in myself to write a little each day can only do me good so I need to keep reminding myself of that. I know I’m going to have a strong urge to go back and edit these posts a thousand times but I’m hoping once the posts are complete I will be satisfied and will be able to reflect on what I’ve taken away from the assignment. I have so much on my plate in every area of my life, but I am going to do my best to complete the assignment in it’s entirety and by
July(August !) and I am certain to feel more confident in my writing at that time.
A fascinating look inside the trials at the company Automattic from a Happiness Engineer’s perspective.
Originally posted on Wendomattic:
I’ve been a Happiness Engineer at Automattic now for about 6 months and I still feel like I won the job lottery. I get to work with some of the smartest, funniest, nicest people on the planet supporting a platform I believe in, and they pay me! Woot!
It wasn’t too long ago that I was considering applying to Automattic. Before applying, I wanted to know what this place was about. I read everything I could get my eyeballs on about the company and the people in it for months before I pulled the trigger and hit send to apply.
One of the things that let me know right up front that Automattic is different is the fact that hiring isn’t done based solely on a resume and a few interviews. Oh no…uh uh. Not even close.
Hiring is done by audition, meaning that all applicants have to actually do…
View original 3,017 more words
Originally posted on You Monsters Are People.:
In prehistoric times the thing that made a woman the most desirable to the rest of her pack was having both arms. Things like sharp teeth and having no diseases were just perks back then. If you were some archaic human female spending her days trying to pull all the skin off a mammoth carcass, had most of your teeth, functional reproductive organs, and could start a fire without help, then you were probably the sexiest woman on the planet. Every man in your tribe would show up in front of your cave with a cup of dinosaur milk and a sharpened rock in the hopes that it might be enough to gain your favor.
Fast forward into modernity and the dinosaur milk has dried up. Everyone is arguing about body shape and what not to wear. There are campaigns endorsing fatness and abhorring skinniness where people make outrageous claims…
View original 1,238 more words
Kiss for the Giant Sequoia Tree