Highly Qualified for...
Writing lately
is HARD
like pimples under the skin
and just as ready to pop
but totally impossible.
And that is my new form of haiku I just invented, which always has to in some way relate to zits.
It's pretty lame since writing is sorta part of the degree I'm supposed to be working on, or something.
I got real indignant about my undergrad the other day. It was a pretty lousy program for what it was. As a journalism major we barely ever touched a computer, and it was to write headlines in word. We never discussed, touched or tripped over: InDesign, Illustrator, FrontPage, Quark, Dreamweaver, Flash, a video camera or even a digital camera. These things were somehow seen as unimportant. I did learn what a pica was, an ancient unit of newspaper measurement rendered mostly obsolete by the advent of computers, and I did have to learn to write an obituary.
It bites when you realize way down the line that you got pretty dicked and theres not much you can do about it.
I was looking online for internships and jobs with Turner, which, with properties from CNN to Cartoon Network, my educational history should make me ideal for. But when they get down to their actual requirements, especially technology wise.... we never touched on that stuff. And no, I'm not THAT old, I graduated from CofC two years ago. People had layout software. Feck, we used it more in high school than i ever saw it in college.
It's just something I was thinking about.
I have a million stories but somehow they all seem impossible to get out in my elected media of comic-book-form. Even for assignments. I always figgure theyre not good enough or interesting enough, then I find my colleagues writing similar stuff from their experience and meeting with at least moderate success with it. I wonder what it is thats different about me that I think I suck so damn bad.
I'm so artistically self-conscious these days, I don't even really know what an artist is for anymore. Like, what am I supposed to say? Is that sad?
I mentioned to my best friend here yesterday that I was planning on being a missionary. I let it slip while drinking margarita out of a fishbowl with five other people. It's the kind of humorously incongruous thing I do, or like to think of as humorously incongruous, lest I have to admit that I may just be in a great world of trouble. He was interested in it but whenever I explain it to people here, you can tell they have no idea why anyone would ever want to do that. Or what you're doing here. One of my professors almost seemed to get mad. Like what nerve did I have successfully getting myself into a prestidgeous art school if I wasn't hell-bent on spending my life chained at a desk at disney? I guess I'm taking up a spot that some person less fond of Jesus and the outdoors and having a life could be using to doodle nuns with cock-arms and robots (and I did not just make that up, I know someone who's doing that.)
And she's getting published.
is HARD
like pimples under the skin
and just as ready to pop
but totally impossible.
And that is my new form of haiku I just invented, which always has to in some way relate to zits.
It's pretty lame since writing is sorta part of the degree I'm supposed to be working on, or something.
I got real indignant about my undergrad the other day. It was a pretty lousy program for what it was. As a journalism major we barely ever touched a computer, and it was to write headlines in word. We never discussed, touched or tripped over: InDesign, Illustrator, FrontPage, Quark, Dreamweaver, Flash, a video camera or even a digital camera. These things were somehow seen as unimportant. I did learn what a pica was, an ancient unit of newspaper measurement rendered mostly obsolete by the advent of computers, and I did have to learn to write an obituary.
It bites when you realize way down the line that you got pretty dicked and theres not much you can do about it.
I was looking online for internships and jobs with Turner, which, with properties from CNN to Cartoon Network, my educational history should make me ideal for. But when they get down to their actual requirements, especially technology wise.... we never touched on that stuff. And no, I'm not THAT old, I graduated from CofC two years ago. People had layout software. Feck, we used it more in high school than i ever saw it in college.
It's just something I was thinking about.
I have a million stories but somehow they all seem impossible to get out in my elected media of comic-book-form. Even for assignments. I always figgure theyre not good enough or interesting enough, then I find my colleagues writing similar stuff from their experience and meeting with at least moderate success with it. I wonder what it is thats different about me that I think I suck so damn bad.
I'm so artistically self-conscious these days, I don't even really know what an artist is for anymore. Like, what am I supposed to say? Is that sad?
I mentioned to my best friend here yesterday that I was planning on being a missionary. I let it slip while drinking margarita out of a fishbowl with five other people. It's the kind of humorously incongruous thing I do, or like to think of as humorously incongruous, lest I have to admit that I may just be in a great world of trouble. He was interested in it but whenever I explain it to people here, you can tell they have no idea why anyone would ever want to do that. Or what you're doing here. One of my professors almost seemed to get mad. Like what nerve did I have successfully getting myself into a prestidgeous art school if I wasn't hell-bent on spending my life chained at a desk at disney? I guess I'm taking up a spot that some person less fond of Jesus and the outdoors and having a life could be using to doodle nuns with cock-arms and robots (and I did not just make that up, I know someone who's doing that.)
And she's getting published.