Know what I mean

I put this post up not too long after the incident happened, then took it down because I cooled down a bit. But I was telling my friend Wes about it, and he actually came up with a new last line for it, and I had to put it back up.

------

By George, I've had it!



I finally gave in and went to get a haircut. I went to the SuperCuts I always go to about once every two or three months, and because of that I never see the same people working there twice. This time I came in and the girl asked for my name to write on the ticket like they usually do. I answered and she said something I didn't quite get, so I asked her what she said.

"Do you own a jungle?" she asked. "Just trying to be funny."

At least "Georgie Porgie" stopped after grade school. But for some reason "George of the Jungle" has never stopped. I never saw the cartoon, and I didn't see the movie. But people always make that joke.

It wasn't funny when I was six years old. Or when I was 12. Or 15, 21, 28 or now that I'm 32 fucking years old. Her name was Melissa. So while people sing "George! George! George of the jungle, watch out for that tree!" to me about once every few months, I bet no one's ever asked her if she was a lesbian rock singer or acted like a teenage witch.

So if I ever go back to that SuperCuts and she's still there, if she hums one note I'm going to invade her home and employ a shock and awe campaign by shoving a cherry tree I chopped down up her Clooney.

Watch out for that tree!

------

I also decided to put it back up because of Erin's blog, showing how wise she was as a 13-year-old: "I know, that was mean. I don't care. I want to be mean."

Why shouldn't I be mean? I've been made fun of because of both my first and last names, my weight, my ethnicity, because I was mistaken for other ethnicities, because I was smart, because I was stupid, because I was me.

Can't I get a turn at being mean?

Major purchase ALERT!

Yesterday Kim tried to call me from Lawrence, but as my phone sometimes does, it didn't ring when she called while I was at work, and it didn't notify me of the voice mail until I stepped out of the building. And while it probably wasn't the phone's fault (actually, it helps prove my theory that this place is really dense), I went ahead and splurged on a new phone.



I look at it this way: I didn't spend $150 on one thing -- I spent it on three. In addition to it being a supercool slider phone with a bigger color screen and better Web capabilities, it's a decent cameraphone. I've traveled all over the country these past three and a half years, and I have no pictures to show for it. I've caught myself many times wishing I had a digital camera.

And since the iPod shuffle was kind of a bust (bought on the advice of Ann Gardner), it's also an MP3 player. It holds about 20 or so songs, and memory upgrades can be bought to hold a lot more.

So I'd like to think this phone isn't like a lot of other impulse buys I've had in the past (my last post titled "Major purchase ALERT!" was for the PDA I bought with which to write my novel, when for about $100 more I could have gotten a new low-end laptop). And as a way to show you how useful it is, here's a pic of what I look like now:

Nurse Strangehate (or: How I Learned to Start Worrying and Hate the Media)

Warning: Blogging Gone Wild. This is a post that was supposed to be short, but got out of control. I decided to still post it for anyone who really wants to know why I'm getting out of journalism. Otherwise, it's just about a bunch of heartache that you might rather not read.

-----



Opening Internet Explorer on my mom's computer brought me to MSN's homepage, and I saw a link that led me to this Salon article. It's about how Stephen Colbert blasted both Bush and the Washington press, and the media's response is to just ignore it. Weird how "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" seem to lead the way in terms of journalistic integrity.

After reading the article, I thought to myself, this is what drove me to hate being a journalist.

I was lured into journalism because it was about doing important work for the community, being a watchdog for society. But I had come to hate it because finally working in the real world it was about having clips and building a portfolio. I hated it because I found after working for real papers that journalism today is about journalists' egos, not serving readers.

But really, after thinking about it more, that's not true. It started hating it long before I left OU.

I mean, I was really thrilled when I got into journalism. I was always really excited to come into the newsroom, and always left way late, skipping classes and putting off homework, just so I could do more with the paper. I interviewed all sorts of people, from Bob Stoops to Dennis Hastert to Garrison Keillor. I thought I loved it.

I had a lot of fun my first year and a half doing it when I was doing entertainment stuff, but I have to say, looking back now, I don't think I ever loved journalism.

You see, after going through 15 majors and already one career change it was nice to finally see something in which I had a legitimate future.

I didn't love it. I just loved that I was good at it.

During my 11 months at the Lawrence Journal-World, I think people there were pleased with my performance. I feel like I had the respect of my collegues and bosses, and had I stayed I would have had a really good future there.

But I felt like a fraud because I was just a shade of the copy editor I used to be.

I felt I always had the support and encouragement to try different things and take risks in Lawrence, because I couldn't ask for better people to work with. But I was held back because couldn't get past how much I hate journalism.

I hate how it ruined my writing; everything's in succinct sentences now.

I hate how badly it is practiced in Oklahoma.

I hate how it robbed me of being blissfully ignorant of the world.

I hate how it's stolen my concept of a weekend, or the idea of staying up late.

I hate how after almost repairing my GPA to a 3.0, it brought me down to a 2.6.

I hate how I chose it over taking a chance at being a screenwriter/playwright.

I hate how the Kent Nichols, the Todd Baileys and the Dennis Andersons are the successes, but the Kelly Furnases, the Leigh Barnetts and Kim Callahans don't get the respect and rewards they deserve, and are even driven out of the business.

I hate how almost every friend I made at the OU paper turned into an enemy, and it was never over personal differences. It was because of either a job I got over them, or because I picked someone more qualified for a job either over them or someone whom they thought was a better choice. And I really hate how much of a bitter person this has made me, and how much harder it is for me to make new friends now.

But, oddly enough, what I don't hate is that I became a journalist. If I hadn't I wouldn't have gone to three different corners of the continental U.S. And I wouldn't have made the friends I did make.

And without journalism I don't think I would have discovered nursing.

I do have fears about nursing. I'm not afraid that I'll find that I'll hate it, like I did with journalism. But I'm afraid that I won't be good at it. I mean, pride in my work aside, if I'm not good at it, I'm potentially putting lives at risk.

I really hope I'll be a good nurse. Because if I come to find I was better at being a journalist than I'll ever be as a nurse ...

Well, that's something I'd really hate.