Steve Job's Commencement Speech at Stanford in 2005. My roommate made me sit down and watch it this morning in exchange for a grape. Well worth your time.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF8uR6Z6KLc
Page Thirty-Four: My Kind of Current Events
Recently I found myself alone and stranded on the curb in a gas station parking lot at 3am wearing a perfect pink dress, new Steve Maddens and an employee of the gas station's wool coat, holding on to the bench portion of a pedi-cab for dear life...so no one would steal it?
It was my responsibility to guard the precious piece of equiptment, of course.
A typical end to a typical night in my world. If only that had been the end...we won't get into it.
With that being said, I naturally took a liking to this headline in USA Today.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-11-10-pedicabs_N.htm
Long live pedi-cabs. My preferred method of transportation. Aside from teleporting, that is. Nothing beats teleportation.
It was my responsibility to guard the precious piece of equiptment, of course.
A typical end to a typical night in my world. If only that had been the end...we won't get into it.
With that being said, I naturally took a liking to this headline in USA Today.
http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2009-11-10-pedicabs_N.htm
Long live pedi-cabs. My preferred method of transportation. Aside from teleporting, that is. Nothing beats teleportation.
Page Thirty-Three: Secrets
I'm not much of a complainer, I swear. Just this one time.
Don't tell anybody, but today I'm that girl that makes excuses for another person because it makes her feel better. I'm that awful girl who justifies actions because it's easier to pretend everything's the same than it is to accept what's real.
One time my fortune cookie told me that affection is never wasted. I hope that's true.
Today I'm antsy. I have a shorter than normal attention span and the urge to get in my car and drive to the beach and forget about my little babies in sparkly leotards or scheduling a time slot in the production studio or catching up on my current events for my quiz tomorrow. I hate the news lately, anyways.
I think the best times in our lives are a double-edged sword. Sometimes the best times in our lives make everyday life less satisfying.
I wish I could practice half of what I preach.
Today I'm accepting a theory as fact. Give someone the opportunity to let you down, and they will take it. I don't like that I believe this. It's not very me to think this way at all. It seems like the safer bet to swallow this understanding, though.
I'm scared for the next couple of months and I'm mad that losing people is a part of life. I've never wanted time to move slower and faster at the same time until now.
I took the bus home from campus today and a big part of me wanted to run away to a big city again, where I could ride on busses where no one knows me every single day.
I'm a chronic thinker. Even when I'm sleeping my mind goes crazy. I'd pay $100 dollars to have an on/off switch for it.
I pretend to care about a lot more things than I actually care about. I can fake enthusiasm and interest and concern really well.
I hate when I realize that the only times that I pray are when I'm sad or scared or needing or wanting.
Word vomit. I feel better know.
Don't tell anybody, but today I'm that girl that makes excuses for another person because it makes her feel better. I'm that awful girl who justifies actions because it's easier to pretend everything's the same than it is to accept what's real.
One time my fortune cookie told me that affection is never wasted. I hope that's true.
Today I'm antsy. I have a shorter than normal attention span and the urge to get in my car and drive to the beach and forget about my little babies in sparkly leotards or scheduling a time slot in the production studio or catching up on my current events for my quiz tomorrow. I hate the news lately, anyways.
I think the best times in our lives are a double-edged sword. Sometimes the best times in our lives make everyday life less satisfying.
I wish I could practice half of what I preach.
Today I'm accepting a theory as fact. Give someone the opportunity to let you down, and they will take it. I don't like that I believe this. It's not very me to think this way at all. It seems like the safer bet to swallow this understanding, though.
I'm scared for the next couple of months and I'm mad that losing people is a part of life. I've never wanted time to move slower and faster at the same time until now.
I took the bus home from campus today and a big part of me wanted to run away to a big city again, where I could ride on busses where no one knows me every single day.
I'm a chronic thinker. Even when I'm sleeping my mind goes crazy. I'd pay $100 dollars to have an on/off switch for it.
I pretend to care about a lot more things than I actually care about. I can fake enthusiasm and interest and concern really well.
I hate when I realize that the only times that I pray are when I'm sad or scared or needing or wanting.
Word vomit. I feel better know.
Page Thirty-Two: Whatcha Gonna Do
To catch up, I'm going to have to dig in my memory bank for the clutch stories over the past couple months. If not for your reading pleasures, than for my personal nostalgia years from now. Here's one for the books.
A normal Thursday night in college typically consists of dressing up like something or someone ridiculous, not because it's Halloween, but because it's Thursday. This particular Thursday was coined "Career Day" and my roommate Leigh had be scheming her perfect outfit for days. A wedding dress. M.R.S. Degree. Oh so clever. The stunning gown she found was off the racks at Goodwill and about three sizes too small, but she bought it anyways after much reassuring that it was nothing a hot glue gun and some scissors couldn't fix. It was God awful. The ugliest, snow-monster dress I've ever seen.
Anyways, after we doctored her dress up and literally tied and glued her in it, we were off. By the way, I was an E! News Red Carpet Correspondent, but...not important. She had two Miller High Life bottles and a fanny pack. Because it's true that wierd things happen to wierd people, a camera crew for a new COPS like show was patrolling with our city's policemen that night. Who better for an episode than a raging bride-to-be with a fanny pack, right? Little did she know that before the police busted the party they had been filming her for about 20 minutes. They saw her try to jump a fence with a 10 foot train and they saw her ditch her Forties in the bushes.
The cops ended up having to help Leigh up out of a mud puddle and preceded to film her for another 30 minutes. She was giving them good T.V. Really good T.V. Trust me, I saw it. After begging her to sign the dotted line and pleading with the reasoning that she would make an awesome episode, they left her with a pretty little ticket and an epic story.
So happy to be only a spectator for this one.
Check out Leigh's blog: http://high-waistedlife.blogspot.com/ and look out for the new Cops show. On the G4 channel, airing soon!Page Thirty-One: Do You Know Where I've Been?
Shame on me. My adventures have been stalled at page thirty since August and there is just no excuse for that. A quick update, then it's back to the regular scheduled story-telling.
New:
Apartment, roommates and job. I gave up on washing cars and I now coach gymnastics. It is the best and most rewarding job I've ever had. My little girls and boys are precious and make even the worst days wonderful.
Friends, hairstyle and method of organizing my closet. I color coordinate now.
Classes that challenge me, teachers, responsibilites and guilty pleasures.
and
Adventures, of course.
Same:
Bad study habits, best friend and favorite boy.
Poor budgeting skills, bumperless car and love of high heals.
Perpetually empty gas tank.
Craving for the big city, desire to dress fabulously and stay young at heart forever.
Magnetism to odd people and even odder situations.
Stay tuned...
New:
Apartment, roommates and job. I gave up on washing cars and I now coach gymnastics. It is the best and most rewarding job I've ever had. My little girls and boys are precious and make even the worst days wonderful.
Friends, hairstyle and method of organizing my closet. I color coordinate now.
Classes that challenge me, teachers, responsibilites and guilty pleasures.
and
Adventures, of course.
Same:
Bad study habits, best friend and favorite boy.
Poor budgeting skills, bumperless car and love of high heals.
Perpetually empty gas tank.
Craving for the big city, desire to dress fabulously and stay young at heart forever.
Magnetism to odd people and even odder situations.
Stay tuned...
Page Thirty: I Need To Buy A Welcome Mat
I thought that adjusting back to the Texan's lifestyle would be challenging. I guess there is nothing at all challenging about the routine I developed immediately upon returning home: wake up, remove PJ's, put on swim suit, grab iPod, cell phone, water bottle, towel, and lay in pool chair...continue laying in pool chair until you can't produce anymore sweat and you absolutely must jump in the pool...jump in pool. Repeat daily.
The only obstacle I've noticed is driving. I can't seem to get my car to go over 60 mph without feeling like I'm doing laps at Texas Motor Speedway. I'm getting there though...slowly.
I packed my life up once more and loaded it all into my car. My entire life fits into my maroon X-Terra, not at all comfortably or in a way that's really highway safe, but it fits. Getting back to school meant getting a good hug I'd been waiting a long time for. It meant two new roommates to share coffee with in the morning and closets with at night. It meant multiple "how are you's" and "did you have a good summer's?". I have already acquired new skills, like painting a kitchen orange in your underwear while drinking white wine, making sure to jump off the counter gracefully to skip the lame songs that come on the shuffle. I'm clearly a bonafide multi-tasker.
It's exciting to see my old friends in their new houses with their big smiles painted on their faces as they show me around. It seems we are all happy to be growing up. When are we supposed to stop being happy about getting older?
My thank you notes are written, addressed and stamped. They're starring in me in my face as we speak begging to be sent out. One for my boss at ABC, one for my boss at Haute PR, one full of thanks and promised prayers for Mary, and one for my dad's boss thanking him for the plane ride back home. Honestly, I'm not looking forward to sending them away. When they're gone, it means that it really is all over.
My bed is made, my clothes are hung and there are two boxes of Kashi in my pantry. So, this must be home.
The only obstacle I've noticed is driving. I can't seem to get my car to go over 60 mph without feeling like I'm doing laps at Texas Motor Speedway. I'm getting there though...slowly.
I packed my life up once more and loaded it all into my car. My entire life fits into my maroon X-Terra, not at all comfortably or in a way that's really highway safe, but it fits. Getting back to school meant getting a good hug I'd been waiting a long time for. It meant two new roommates to share coffee with in the morning and closets with at night. It meant multiple "how are you's" and "did you have a good summer's?". I have already acquired new skills, like painting a kitchen orange in your underwear while drinking white wine, making sure to jump off the counter gracefully to skip the lame songs that come on the shuffle. I'm clearly a bonafide multi-tasker.
It's exciting to see my old friends in their new houses with their big smiles painted on their faces as they show me around. It seems we are all happy to be growing up. When are we supposed to stop being happy about getting older?
My thank you notes are written, addressed and stamped. They're starring in me in my face as we speak begging to be sent out. One for my boss at ABC, one for my boss at Haute PR, one full of thanks and promised prayers for Mary, and one for my dad's boss thanking him for the plane ride back home. Honestly, I'm not looking forward to sending them away. When they're gone, it means that it really is all over.
My bed is made, my clothes are hung and there are two boxes of Kashi in my pantry. So, this must be home.
Page Twenty-Nine: Now What?
I ended my adventure viewing the city from Top of the Rock on one last adventure with the British boy, then looking out the window of a Challenger down at the place that I called home for three months. I was blessed with perfect timing and was able to ride in the back of an empty jet, non-stop to Texas with the pilot I trust the most...my dad. He had a trip to New Jersey and I met him at the airport, loaded my tons and tons of lugguge into the back of the plane and napped on a leather couch for the 2 hour and 52 minute ride to Fort Worth. I love sneaking into the life of luxury, even if only for a moment, even if it really is only a fluke. My dad let the other pilot take over for most of the flight so we could catch up on the happenings of an unforgetable summer in New York City. I shared my stories and relayed my adventures in a way that is suitable for the ears of parents. Have I mentioned how grateful I am to have parents like the ones I have?
I was lugging one of my bags up the stairs in my house to be greeted by a little fellow, an unexpected visitor, one that you would only find on your stairs in Texas. I screamed "Lizard in the house, lizard in the house" until my dad came and caught the little guy. This is why my mom yells at my dad when he leaves the door out to the pool open. The backyard and all of it's tropical rainforest-esque vegetation is a much more suitable habitat for creatures of his kind. His tail fell off when my dad caught him to put him back in his happy place.
So now I'm back. I'm back in Texas with more clothing than I came with, more shoes, more stuff in general. I also came back with more life experience, a few more friends, and an entirely new outlook on how I want to live, love and be loved. My world has been changed by a place, and now I find myself back where I started. I'm not writing from a cubicle on the 17th floor of 2 Penn Plaza or an upper eastside apartment. I'm back in my bedroom in Texas. I can't help but wonder, now what?
I guess these aren't the Intern's Confessions anymore, are they? I guess these are the Ex-Intern's Confessions, the Texan's Confessions, the College Student's Confessions. I don't know what's going to fill these pages from now on and I don't know how I will be organizing my thoughts from here on out. But if I know myself at all than I know that the adventures are nowhere near over.
I try not to live in the past. I try to make clean chapter breaks when it comes to life and I try to be the girl with the smooth transitions. There's only one last thing to do before I say goodbye to what was once The Intern's Confessions... my ode to New York City and what it's made me:
Thanks for terrifying me, smacking me in the face, bringing me to tears, making me feel lonely for the first time in my life, stealing all of my money, mutalating the bottom of my feet, ruining all of my high heels, destroying my once golden bronzed skin, introducing me to people I'll know for life, throwing me into jobs I was not quite ready for, helping me to master Microsoft Excel, showing me the hard life, letting me get a glimpse into the life of the man on the subway who never arrives at his stop because the subway is his refuge and his home, showing me what hungry, poor, hurting, tired, broken, defeated looks like, and thank you that I've never had to be this person.
Thanks for blinding me with the city lights, shutting me up when I wanted to complain, letting me feel the most free I've ever felt, allowing me to get lost, giving me the opportunity to figure things out on my own, for laughing, running, walking, shopping, drinking, singing, swimming, dancing, learning, growing, teaching, loving, hating, fearing, hoping, aching, smiling.
It's really good to be home.
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