One of Those Days
Where do I begin?
Which topic sounds more important right now, Megan Fox's wardrobe, updates in the Trayvon Martin case, Katy Pery moving on in her lovelife, or how Think Like a Man top every box office over the weekend? Tough call.
If this post sounds broad and brutal, I'm almost sorry, but I'm not feeling the best of days right now. All this controlled hostility is derived from frustration from the world around me. As I fight the urge to draft and post a woe-is-me-sob-sob entry, I know that I'm not the only one having a tough day today. Also, I could be doing more productive things with myself, like my poetry chapbook.
This joint is almost completed and I'm just too excited for words. I've been editing and re-editing and re-re-rediting more times than I care to remember. It's just anxiety and excitement (and possibly too much ice cream). I have to apologize again because I know I'm about to veer off into a different direction in the post again...
I have told my mother many a time and the same feeling feeds onto my soul; I have worked in many jobs so far in my quarter-life existence. I've been working since I was nine years old (so I take blatant offense when someone calls me lazy). Though at the end of the day, I just wanna write. My journalism has been jeopardized more than once and despite my anger towards the industry at the moment, I refuse to give up.
Most of my writing experience occurred in college and I'm grateful for what I was taught and what I applied. However, it really flattens my Pepsi when I apply to one, or two, or fifty writing and publishing jobs and I'm receive rejection letters in the mail. It hurt at first and I moved on.
Now I'm just annoyed...and here goes my next cover letter.
Maybe this will cheer me up:
Which topic sounds more important right now, Megan Fox's wardrobe, updates in the Trayvon Martin case, Katy Pery moving on in her lovelife, or how Think Like a Man top every box office over the weekend? Tough call.
If this post sounds broad and brutal, I'm almost sorry, but I'm not feeling the best of days right now. All this controlled hostility is derived from frustration from the world around me. As I fight the urge to draft and post a woe-is-me-sob-sob entry, I know that I'm not the only one having a tough day today. Also, I could be doing more productive things with myself, like my poetry chapbook.
This joint is almost completed and I'm just too excited for words. I've been editing and re-editing and re-re-rediting more times than I care to remember. It's just anxiety and excitement (and possibly too much ice cream). I have to apologize again because I know I'm about to veer off into a different direction in the post again...
I have told my mother many a time and the same feeling feeds onto my soul; I have worked in many jobs so far in my quarter-life existence. I've been working since I was nine years old (so I take blatant offense when someone calls me lazy). Though at the end of the day, I just wanna write. My journalism has been jeopardized more than once and despite my anger towards the industry at the moment, I refuse to give up.
Most of my writing experience occurred in college and I'm grateful for what I was taught and what I applied. However, it really flattens my Pepsi when I apply to one, or two, or fifty writing and publishing jobs and I'm receive rejection letters in the mail. It hurt at first and I moved on.
Now I'm just annoyed...and here goes my next cover letter.
Maybe this will cheer me up:
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