(no subject)
I found out that the number one song on the Billboard charts on my birthday was Prince's "When Doves Cry." I'm pretty sure I pumped a fist when I read it. You really can't get much better than Prince. Here's the site, in case you're curious as to what yours is.
I'm trying to write more regularly. As in, every day regularly. Something, anything. This advice has been given to me multiple times, by both professors and old English major comrades, and I've never been able to do it. Whether it be in my moleskine, in this journal, or just on a scrap of paper I find lying around, I want to try and get my thoughts out in a recorded medium, and potentially spark ideas for new stories. I'm dying to be published again.
I feel like a huge idiot.
I didn't end up applying for another job [Curatorial Assistant] that opened up at work, because I felt that it was pretty much a given that a certain intern [who has already worked under the woman she would be replacing] would be pegged for the position. I was sitting at the front desk this morning, and one of my closest allies in the office came up to me and told me that people had been asking about me, and inquired as to her thoughts on how I would fare at the job. She didn't even know that I hadn't applied, and was talking me up for the job regardless. Another factor preventing me from applying was the sheer fact that I wasn't sure I'd be qualified enough. To this date, I have no curatorial experience. I have no management experience. I certainly don't have my Masters in anything art-related yet. Due to the fact that I didn't get the supervisor position I applied for weeks ago, I was already disheartened and not feeling motivated enough to try again. Now, I feel as though I may have actually had a shot, and it's too late to send my resume in. Goddamnit.
Aaand, I think I've realized that I need to spend more time alone. I try my best to have at least one day per week, all for Dawn, but it rarely happens. I'm constantly surrounded by people and surrounding myself with people, and this is a great thing considering how I wanted nothing but the exact opposite about a year and a half ago. But one day isn't asking too much. It was so easy for me to escape in college, with all the free time that I had, but it's difficult, if not impossible, to do so anymore. It's just great to have the time to think, and let my mind wander free of interruptions. It's something so simple, but I take it for granted constantly. I'm trying to change this.
So that this entry doesn't end on another depressing note, for my birthday, Helen got me 4 pink lipsticks of varying shades. I told her how I loved it when she wore pink lipstick, and wasn't sure if I could pull it off. She got me some so that I could figure out what "my" pink was. I've been wearing a different one every day, and it's been making me feel wonderful because I actually can pull it off. It's something so ridiculously small, but really, it does wonders. My wife is too fabulous.
Happy August.
I'm trying to write more regularly. As in, every day regularly. Something, anything. This advice has been given to me multiple times, by both professors and old English major comrades, and I've never been able to do it. Whether it be in my moleskine, in this journal, or just on a scrap of paper I find lying around, I want to try and get my thoughts out in a recorded medium, and potentially spark ideas for new stories. I'm dying to be published again.
I feel like a huge idiot.
I didn't end up applying for another job [Curatorial Assistant] that opened up at work, because I felt that it was pretty much a given that a certain intern [who has already worked under the woman she would be replacing] would be pegged for the position. I was sitting at the front desk this morning, and one of my closest allies in the office came up to me and told me that people had been asking about me, and inquired as to her thoughts on how I would fare at the job. She didn't even know that I hadn't applied, and was talking me up for the job regardless. Another factor preventing me from applying was the sheer fact that I wasn't sure I'd be qualified enough. To this date, I have no curatorial experience. I have no management experience. I certainly don't have my Masters in anything art-related yet. Due to the fact that I didn't get the supervisor position I applied for weeks ago, I was already disheartened and not feeling motivated enough to try again. Now, I feel as though I may have actually had a shot, and it's too late to send my resume in. Goddamnit.
Aaand, I think I've realized that I need to spend more time alone. I try my best to have at least one day per week, all for Dawn, but it rarely happens. I'm constantly surrounded by people and surrounding myself with people, and this is a great thing considering how I wanted nothing but the exact opposite about a year and a half ago. But one day isn't asking too much. It was so easy for me to escape in college, with all the free time that I had, but it's difficult, if not impossible, to do so anymore. It's just great to have the time to think, and let my mind wander free of interruptions. It's something so simple, but I take it for granted constantly. I'm trying to change this.
So that this entry doesn't end on another depressing note, for my birthday, Helen got me 4 pink lipsticks of varying shades. I told her how I loved it when she wore pink lipstick, and wasn't sure if I could pull it off. She got me some so that I could figure out what "my" pink was. I've been wearing a different one every day, and it's been making me feel wonderful because I actually can pull it off. It's something so ridiculously small, but really, it does wonders. My wife is too fabulous.
Happy August.