I think most people who maintain blogs are doing it for some of the same reasons I do: they like the idea that there’s a place where a record of their existence is kept — a house with an always-open door where people who are looking for you can check on you, compare notes with you and tell you what they think of you. Sometimes that house is messy, sometimes horrifyingly so. In real life, we wouldn’t invite any passing stranger into these situations, but the remove of the Internet makes it seem O.K.
I think Emily Gould is a great writer, and it was nice to finally hear her side of the story. However, the 10-page article has made me want to step away from my site and instant messenger for the night. Of course, not until I blog about it. Conundrum!
Again, it was the meaning of the song that made this all seem weird, since the lyrics tell a girl she’s beautiful despite the media’s image of beauty.
I still love the Kooks, so whatever, but I have to wonder: Do companies just hope no one will listen to the lyrics of these songs? Is the catchy, carefree melody all that matters? Or was there some really cool employee who tried to sneak his/her favorite band into an ad?
Whenever I visit my Mom and Grandparents, Rain is always on the Korean channels they get! I knew he was a big deal, but never thought I’d see him on Comedy Central.
But that’s why Stephen Colbert is so incredibly cool. And, also a very respectable dancer.
I know I’m getting a little ridiculous with the AD references, but deal, because this post is about memories. More specifically, a box full of them, which I rummaged through today.
See, when I moved into my new apartment I received all my furniture and boxes one morning and then went out of town within a few hours. When I came back, I did very little unpacking, and when I got out all my necessary items, my dining room became a storage area.
In an effort to minimize my belongings this afternoon, I decided to start with the tower of boxes I have neglected the past 5 months. The first one I opened just happened to contain a sampling of random high school and college souvenirs that distracted me for a good 2 hours.
Among my findings:
My high school planner from senior year containing all my IB course work due dates, dance practices, performances, my social schedule, scribbled lyrics by bands I loved in the margins and sketchings of what I wanted my prom dress to look like. Wow. Pretty lame.
Cards from former co-workers in Seattle filled with inside jokes about tea, spices, coffee and a man named David Rio.
Three Tootsie Roll pops with a note and a CD sleeve all still in an envelope. Apparently I was only concerned about the actually CD.
My high school binder with a custom-made cover featuring Jason Schwartzman, Jack Black, Weezer, The Muppets, The Boss, Hayden Christensen, Jimmy Eat World and No Doubt.
A scoreboard I made in biology class that kept track of a “where is this quote from” game between myself and 3 others. I won, by the way. Barely.
Dozens of ticket stubs, including, Jamie Cullum, Mitch Hedberg/Lewis Black, and Dave Chappelle.
Poems and drawings from a boy I liked.
A discman.
My handwritten packing checklist for CU.
Old AP style quizzes and countless cover letters from CP applicants.
Many reporter notebooks, all of which are only about 75 percent full.
Copies of financial disclosure reports from a project.
All my media law essays.
Job fair contacts.
A study abroad brochure.
My five mountain ski pass and old ID cards.
Although I will never need any of these things again (except for those job fair contacts), and rarely think about them, I can’t possibly bring myself to throw any away. I packed all the listed items back up neatly into the box and set it aside.
