Tuesday, July 12, 2005
I give up
I'm giving up on writing as a hobby. Why? Well, because I NEVER DO IT. But there are things that I actually do, do. ha ha ha. So from now on this B**G will be focusing on those things that I enjoy doing and that make me feel good, like taking photos. When I fell into the Chicago River 2 months ago, I lost my camera. It really depressed me because I love taking photos. I'm not a pro and I'm not like a freak about it, always carrying a camera around my neck or anything but I love it. So in June I went to Texas on a trip and I got a new camera - just like my old one, but newer. See above for the evidence.
I am a consumerist right now. I didn't know this was how I had been feeling until I talked to my friend Kate, who is a writer, and who said she hadn't been writing lately. She said she had been a consumerist. Reading a lot, listening to a lot of music, watching a lot of movies, etc...but not producing anything. I haven't MADE anything for a long time and was feeling super lazy but then I remembered how much I work and how long my commute is and realized I don't have any damn time to make anything. And so I read. I read a lot of books, and magazines, and b**gs, and whatever else I can find with words printed on it. I can do this while I am on the train, which is about 2 hours of my day.
One thing I don't really like about B**Gs, mainly THIS B**G, is that it feels like I am writing in my red-teddybear-covered diary with a lock on it when I was 10. Did you ever hear that This American Life about the kid who fantasized about the girls in his Jr. High class watching him going to sleep through his bedroom window, and how he was sure that if they did, they would love him for how sweet he looked, and how cute all tucked into his covers looking angelic? That really resonated with me because I liked to imagine that if the people in my 5th grade class could secretly watch me while I wrote in my red-teddybear-covered diary they would then fully understand just how sensitive and smart I really was. What they would actually find out is that if I had an Esprit bookbag Mark Martin would finally take some god damn notice! It feels, in fact, like right now all the faces of everyone I know are peering in through the window just behind me and snickering. I know I should probably speak to a professional about self-absorption and I'll have you know I've been looking into it. For real.
Update: 5th grade boys didn't give 2 shits about Esprit. It was a conspiracy of Molly Smith that led all the girls at Gilham Elementary to goad our mothers for overpriced, too-bright apparel. I understand that now.
I do have a couple of projects-a-brewing. We will see if they ever come to fruition.
But for now - and until further notice, I'm only going to post photos.
I am a consumerist right now. I didn't know this was how I had been feeling until I talked to my friend Kate, who is a writer, and who said she hadn't been writing lately. She said she had been a consumerist. Reading a lot, listening to a lot of music, watching a lot of movies, etc...but not producing anything. I haven't MADE anything for a long time and was feeling super lazy but then I remembered how much I work and how long my commute is and realized I don't have any damn time to make anything. And so I read. I read a lot of books, and magazines, and b**gs, and whatever else I can find with words printed on it. I can do this while I am on the train, which is about 2 hours of my day.
One thing I don't really like about B**Gs, mainly THIS B**G, is that it feels like I am writing in my red-teddybear-covered diary with a lock on it when I was 10. Did you ever hear that This American Life about the kid who fantasized about the girls in his Jr. High class watching him going to sleep through his bedroom window, and how he was sure that if they did, they would love him for how sweet he looked, and how cute all tucked into his covers looking angelic? That really resonated with me because I liked to imagine that if the people in my 5th grade class could secretly watch me while I wrote in my red-teddybear-covered diary they would then fully understand just how sensitive and smart I really was. What they would actually find out is that if I had an Esprit bookbag Mark Martin would finally take some god damn notice! It feels, in fact, like right now all the faces of everyone I know are peering in through the window just behind me and snickering. I know I should probably speak to a professional about self-absorption and I'll have you know I've been looking into it. For real.
Update: 5th grade boys didn't give 2 shits about Esprit. It was a conspiracy of Molly Smith that led all the girls at Gilham Elementary to goad our mothers for overpriced, too-bright apparel. I understand that now.
I do have a couple of projects-a-brewing. We will see if they ever come to fruition.
But for now - and until further notice, I'm only going to post photos.