After a chat took place between my roommate and myself today, I discovered that unlike her, I need rules.
I need structure in my life, I need to know what comes next. I need to know what is expected of me and what my purpose is. Which is why it's been frustrating working at a place where there just aren't enough hands to provide some of that structure.
In remembering my 6th grade math teacher, Mr. Wallace (whose parents coincidentally lived next door to me), I remember him telling me to trust myself and stop asking questions. And while I recognize that asking questions is what I do, and what I love to do, I really should go out of my way more and take a few risks. Do some things without asking and just follow my own common sense. I'm bound to make mistakes, but there are safety nets in place and I must learn to trust them, and myself, to keep me from doing really dumb and stupid shit.
On an unrelated note, I have the next four days off! Mini-vacation. What shall I do with my time, besides sleep? Suggestions?
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Rocker nutcrackers and a good black tea
I was sticking to my guns as a Colorado-raised gal and refusing to buy a space heater for my ancient, icebox-of-a-home. Today, I caved in.
Given that the high today was 7 degrees, it's safe to say that my purchase of a space heater really was a necessity. My icebox house, surrounded by thick, hanging icicles that can only add to the house's "creepy" vibe, does not have central heating. Instead, there are two large furnaces, one for each side of the room. The living room is completely unheated and the two upstairs rooms, converted into balconies, rely on the law of nature that pushes hot air up. Needless to say, with my door closed, the only thing keeping me from the natural elements is the insulation (if any) between the four oddly-shaped walls in my attic room.
Opting to suck it up and buy a space heater, I travel to Target (the temperature at a smoldering zero degrees). While walking through the aisles, I was struck by one particular Christmas item -- the rock star nutcracker.
Unlike the traditional Russian-military nutcrackers, this one was wearing black leather pants and had a guitar strapped across its little wooden body. To compliment Mr. Rock, the nutcracker next to him was a tough-as-nails punk nutcracker, with pink hair and a mini-skirt. I attempted to take photos of these bad-ass nutcrackers but failed because the memory on my camera phone is full with pictures I took of The Bravery and The Sounds during their shows last month.
I found these nutcrackers amusing, and I hope to return to Target soon to photograph, if not purchase these amazingly useless items.
Now I'm off to write a profile for work before I go to bed. I think my mental sanity is more important than doing an hour's worth of work off the clock.
Given that the high today was 7 degrees, it's safe to say that my purchase of a space heater really was a necessity. My icebox house, surrounded by thick, hanging icicles that can only add to the house's "creepy" vibe, does not have central heating. Instead, there are two large furnaces, one for each side of the room. The living room is completely unheated and the two upstairs rooms, converted into balconies, rely on the law of nature that pushes hot air up. Needless to say, with my door closed, the only thing keeping me from the natural elements is the insulation (if any) between the four oddly-shaped walls in my attic room.
Opting to suck it up and buy a space heater, I travel to Target (the temperature at a smoldering zero degrees). While walking through the aisles, I was struck by one particular Christmas item -- the rock star nutcracker.
Unlike the traditional Russian-military nutcrackers, this one was wearing black leather pants and had a guitar strapped across its little wooden body. To compliment Mr. Rock, the nutcracker next to him was a tough-as-nails punk nutcracker, with pink hair and a mini-skirt. I attempted to take photos of these bad-ass nutcrackers but failed because the memory on my camera phone is full with pictures I took of The Bravery and The Sounds during their shows last month.
I found these nutcrackers amusing, and I hope to return to Target soon to photograph, if not purchase these amazingly useless items.
Now I'm off to write a profile for work before I go to bed. I think my mental sanity is more important than doing an hour's worth of work off the clock.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Ending the week with a bit of tzatziki
I had a pretty hectic week this week -- covering a crime story, something I really haven't done outside of class. What I found more difficult about covering this story was writing the actual article rather than the reporting, which is the opposite of how I normally feel.
In any case, since it's Friday and PAYDAY I went out on the town looking for a delicious dinner. Since I couldn't really decide on anything specific, I drove around Fort Collins, looking for something to catch my eye. What I found made me happy enough to dance on the streets in the 10-degree weather we're having.
Yum Yum, the Mediterranean/Arabic restaurant I found, satisfied the need I had for chicken schwarma. At last I've found falafel, I told myself. The smell of lime, basil and grilled chicken filled my heart with joy. The taste of my meal, however, left much to be desired.
The chicken in my schwarma was undercooked, which I recognize happens often in schwarma. I mean, what can you realistically expect when you cook your meat by making it spin on a giant tube?
If the pink meat wasn't enough, the way it was sliced was certainly of no help. Rather than slicing the meat into thin strips, the chicken was chopped into chunks -- large chunks, at that.
Hoping the tzatziki sauce might be a better bet, I uncovered the styrofoam cup to find large chunks of cucumber (anyone else seeing a trend?) The large pieces of cucumber and onion really overpowered the lime flavor and the small pieces of pita made eating the sauce complicated. Utilizing less cucumbers (and in smaller sizes) would certainly have helped, as would cutting down on the onions.
Overall, not a bad dinner for $12.00. But I'm a bit disappointed, Yum Yum. With the quality of food, I think you're only think you're qualified for one Yum.
In any case, since it's Friday and PAYDAY I went out on the town looking for a delicious dinner. Since I couldn't really decide on anything specific, I drove around Fort Collins, looking for something to catch my eye. What I found made me happy enough to dance on the streets in the 10-degree weather we're having.
Yum Yum, the Mediterranean/Arabic restaurant I found, satisfied the need I had for chicken schwarma. At last I've found falafel, I told myself. The smell of lime, basil and grilled chicken filled my heart with joy. The taste of my meal, however, left much to be desired.
The chicken in my schwarma was undercooked, which I recognize happens often in schwarma. I mean, what can you realistically expect when you cook your meat by making it spin on a giant tube?
If the pink meat wasn't enough, the way it was sliced was certainly of no help. Rather than slicing the meat into thin strips, the chicken was chopped into chunks -- large chunks, at that.
Hoping the tzatziki sauce might be a better bet, I uncovered the styrofoam cup to find large chunks of cucumber (anyone else seeing a trend?) The large pieces of cucumber and onion really overpowered the lime flavor and the small pieces of pita made eating the sauce complicated. Utilizing less cucumbers (and in smaller sizes) would certainly have helped, as would cutting down on the onions.
Overall, not a bad dinner for $12.00. But I'm a bit disappointed, Yum Yum. With the quality of food, I think you're only think you're qualified for one Yum.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Living without television
I was never much of a TV person. The only shows I can remember watching regularly were The O.C. and recently, So You Think You Can Dance. There was a time I was really into Prison Break during its first season, but that fizzled.
In any case, my new home does not have cable. Nor does it have a strong "local channels" signal, which basically means that I can't watch any television at all. Not the local NBC, ABC, CBS or FOX affiliates. Which means no SYTYCD, or even crappy CSI.
Even worse is the fact that because my roommate works evenings and I've always grown up with noise around me, my damn house is too quiet. My bedroom is upstairs so I have to lug my laptop around with me wherever I go -- from the kitchen to the living room and back to my room. Normally, I'd plop myself in front of the TV or chat with someone while eating dinner, but that's hard to do when there is no one to talk to and nothing but blurry images to watch.
So I guess this means that I am going to get cable. Which equates to another bill to pay/keep track of. More and more, this "real world" thing is becoming a bummer.
Now I have to go return two DVDs to Blockbuster AND take out the trash. In two inches of snow. Which I had to shovel this morning before going to work. And I'm starting to think eating these expired carrots was a bad idea.
In any case, my new home does not have cable. Nor does it have a strong "local channels" signal, which basically means that I can't watch any television at all. Not the local NBC, ABC, CBS or FOX affiliates. Which means no SYTYCD, or even crappy CSI.
Even worse is the fact that because my roommate works evenings and I've always grown up with noise around me, my damn house is too quiet. My bedroom is upstairs so I have to lug my laptop around with me wherever I go -- from the kitchen to the living room and back to my room. Normally, I'd plop myself in front of the TV or chat with someone while eating dinner, but that's hard to do when there is no one to talk to and nothing but blurry images to watch.
So I guess this means that I am going to get cable. Which equates to another bill to pay/keep track of. More and more, this "real world" thing is becoming a bummer.
Now I have to go return two DVDs to Blockbuster AND take out the trash. In two inches of snow. Which I had to shovel this morning before going to work. And I'm starting to think eating these expired carrots was a bad idea.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Featuring my nose ring
My rebellious stage came (not surprisingly) in college, when I was away from the 'rents and old enough to do ridiculous things to myself in the name of originality. Fortunately, I feel I am level-headed enough not to have done anything I regret too much -- although dying my hair black and then trying to bleach it back to a light brown was a very, very hard lesson to learn.
My first act of rebellion came during spring break of my freshman year. Oddly enough, I was back at home when I decided I would finally go through what I had been telling myself for ages I would do -- pierce my nose.
Amber, one of my good friends, and I set out for the piercing parlor on a sunny, March afternoon. She was getting her lip pierced, I was determined to pierce my nose. I got it done and went back home, feeling like a badass. (I often wonder where that ballsy, badass Marcy went nowadays. I feel like such a chicken.) It was a few hours before my parents realized that no, it wasn't a big zit I had on my nose. It was an emerald green stone that was in my nose through the hole I'd had made in it.
In any case, fast forward to four years later, when I'm trying to become a productive, working member of society. While no one I've ever worked for has ever complained or said a thing about my nose ring, I'm starting to wonder if it's something I should keep. I really, really like it -- in spite of my many piercings, it's still one of my favorites. But I wonder how parents and professional sources see it. To the naysayers that dislike me and think I'm incompetent, is the nose ring a symbol of my youth and inexperience? I know I look young and that my hair, makeup and wardrobe don't help much, but is the nose ring the final hammer in the "professional Marcy" coffin?
I've opted to try and find the tiniest nose ring possible, but I wonder if maybe it's just time for me to say goodbye to it as well as my originality. Maybe it's time to give in to the looming, cookie-cutter image I'm destined to become because of my job but avoided for so long.
I hate business attire and the corporate world. Colored, full-sleeve dragon tattoos and lip rings for everyone, I say!
My first act of rebellion came during spring break of my freshman year. Oddly enough, I was back at home when I decided I would finally go through what I had been telling myself for ages I would do -- pierce my nose.
Amber, one of my good friends, and I set out for the piercing parlor on a sunny, March afternoon. She was getting her lip pierced, I was determined to pierce my nose. I got it done and went back home, feeling like a badass. (I often wonder where that ballsy, badass Marcy went nowadays. I feel like such a chicken.) It was a few hours before my parents realized that no, it wasn't a big zit I had on my nose. It was an emerald green stone that was in my nose through the hole I'd had made in it.
In any case, fast forward to four years later, when I'm trying to become a productive, working member of society. While no one I've ever worked for has ever complained or said a thing about my nose ring, I'm starting to wonder if it's something I should keep. I really, really like it -- in spite of my many piercings, it's still one of my favorites. But I wonder how parents and professional sources see it. To the naysayers that dislike me and think I'm incompetent, is the nose ring a symbol of my youth and inexperience? I know I look young and that my hair, makeup and wardrobe don't help much, but is the nose ring the final hammer in the "professional Marcy" coffin?
I've opted to try and find the tiniest nose ring possible, but I wonder if maybe it's just time for me to say goodbye to it as well as my originality. Maybe it's time to give in to the looming, cookie-cutter image I'm destined to become because of my job but avoided for so long.
I hate business attire and the corporate world. Colored, full-sleeve dragon tattoos and lip rings for everyone, I say!
Friday, November 6, 2009
Moving
So after a full month and two weeks of commuting two hours a day, I've finally moved in and started to settle into a little, blue, 19th century home across the street from Fort Collins' largest park. It's a three-bed, one bath house with a huge lawn and its in the older part of town, which means it's far from everything except large oak trees and lots of grass. I must admit, I like it.
I'm currently living with one of the paper's newest photographers, and the two of us sleep in the upstairs rooms, which have a "converted attic" feel. The ceilings are low and slanted, the doors are small and the hardwood floors have that older look and feel to them. There's even a loose floorboard near my closet!
Having moved in on Thursday, I realized that I really don't have a lot of stuff, and I am not at all planning on getting tons more of it. After seeing how much effort my roommate has put into making the rest of the house, including her room, look so awesome and cozy, I have settled for my bed, a blue and brown carpet and two plastic drawers I bought at Target. The weird thing is, I have no desire to really go all out and make my room look kickass. My mom tried convincing me to get a real dresser and a bedside table, but I refused. It's not necessary, I kept repeating.
After realizing I was making my roomie do all the decorating work, I got to thinking about how I don't care about making my home look and feel homey because I haven't been in one steady place for longer than 9 months in the past five years. After living like a crab, carrying everything on my back, I no longer have the ganas to try and get furniture that I'll have to move around, or to collect stuff that I will ultimately have to get rid of. It happened in Evanston, it happened in Madrid, and I can't shake off the feeling that it will happen here.
Even though I foresee myself sticking around Fort Collins for a while (at least two years, I'm telling myself, in spite of my developed city-ADD), I can't seem to see how it's worthwhile to put so much effort into a place that I am not entire sold on. Especially since I know that I'll be down at my parents' house on the weekends.
I can't figure out if I should try to convince myself to try and get settled here and really put some effort into my room and home, or if I should just maintain my blasse attitude. Time will tell...
I'm currently living with one of the paper's newest photographers, and the two of us sleep in the upstairs rooms, which have a "converted attic" feel. The ceilings are low and slanted, the doors are small and the hardwood floors have that older look and feel to them. There's even a loose floorboard near my closet!
Having moved in on Thursday, I realized that I really don't have a lot of stuff, and I am not at all planning on getting tons more of it. After seeing how much effort my roommate has put into making the rest of the house, including her room, look so awesome and cozy, I have settled for my bed, a blue and brown carpet and two plastic drawers I bought at Target. The weird thing is, I have no desire to really go all out and make my room look kickass. My mom tried convincing me to get a real dresser and a bedside table, but I refused. It's not necessary, I kept repeating.
After realizing I was making my roomie do all the decorating work, I got to thinking about how I don't care about making my home look and feel homey because I haven't been in one steady place for longer than 9 months in the past five years. After living like a crab, carrying everything on my back, I no longer have the ganas to try and get furniture that I'll have to move around, or to collect stuff that I will ultimately have to get rid of. It happened in Evanston, it happened in Madrid, and I can't shake off the feeling that it will happen here.
Even though I foresee myself sticking around Fort Collins for a while (at least two years, I'm telling myself, in spite of my developed city-ADD), I can't seem to see how it's worthwhile to put so much effort into a place that I am not entire sold on. Especially since I know that I'll be down at my parents' house on the weekends.
I can't figure out if I should try to convince myself to try and get settled here and really put some effort into my room and home, or if I should just maintain my blasse attitude. Time will tell...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
after a month
Last Thursday marked my first-month anniversary at work. Within those 30(ish) days, I've already come to learn several things:
*It is not okay to try and break the rules of journalism when you're just starting. Yes, you still need a hard news nut graf, and you still need to introduce a direct quote by the third or fourth graf. In general, the most basic rules of news writing still apply. Period.
*Every day is a roller coaster. Some days I'm riding high, others I'm well below the levels of the subterranean transit systems in Madrid and Chicago.
*I will be forever broke. It's bad enough when you are living paycheck to paycheck, but it's even worse when you are already spending the money for hours you haven't even worked yet.
*I should have gone into magazines. I'm not a hard-news person, I love writing long and colorful stories, and I can't write quickly.
That said, I am still basically liking my job a lot. Maybe not loving it just yet, but I'm hoping to stick it out for a bit and ride it out. Worst-case scenario: I get fired. While that would suck, life would go on.
Enjoy my latest story here
*It is not okay to try and break the rules of journalism when you're just starting. Yes, you still need a hard news nut graf, and you still need to introduce a direct quote by the third or fourth graf. In general, the most basic rules of news writing still apply. Period.
*Every day is a roller coaster. Some days I'm riding high, others I'm well below the levels of the subterranean transit systems in Madrid and Chicago.
*I will be forever broke. It's bad enough when you are living paycheck to paycheck, but it's even worse when you are already spending the money for hours you haven't even worked yet.
*I should have gone into magazines. I'm not a hard-news person, I love writing long and colorful stories, and I can't write quickly.
That said, I am still basically liking my job a lot. Maybe not loving it just yet, but I'm hoping to stick it out for a bit and ride it out. Worst-case scenario: I get fired. While that would suck, life would go on.
Enjoy my latest story here
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