Today, my editor from Savannah Magazine told me that three of my stories would be featured in the September/October Fall Fashion issue and two of my stories would be featured in the November/December issue. What does that mean? I am going to be featured in two issues, and everyone I know will have to buy, not one, but two copies of Savannah Magazine! You would think that this new rush of excitement would create a renewed sense of drive and purpose; however, this is not the case. I have a terrible case of writer's block. I have had it since I got back from Ireland. I have all the information I need for my first great feature, and I got nothin'. I have already completed two of my assignments, but this one is the first story where I will have a byline (something writers in the journalism field take very seriously).
Also, my writer's block transcends to my writing assignments for my summer courses. I don't have to go to class and I don't have meaningless busy-work assignments. Just a few writing assignments and some related reading, and I can't get it done. I just don't have any energy at the end of the day.
So what is the moral of this story?
1. I am so awesome that my writing will be in two magazines.
2. I am still a procrastinator, even when the assignments are easy.
3. I am not good at school, nor do I like it, even though I am almost finished.
4. I have a severe case of writer's block.
5. I am completely goofing off while on the clock.
Cheers!
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
So Breakable
This post goes along with my last post. After a long day of consoling, grieving, and caring for my tear-stained sister and her two shocked and sullen boys, I came home to my precious dog, Buster. I love him so much and it is hard to think of a life without him. I feel like there are too many balls to juggle, too many tasks to cross off the to-do list. I sacrifice a little bit of everything in my life just to deal with my life. The worst part of this day come in two parts: the beginning when I got the 7:40 a.m. call alerting me to the death of Taco and the end when I got a random message from a stranger.
Someone sent me a random message letting me know that I look great now, because in high school, he thought I was "kinda big." Then he said right after that: "no offense." This comment is harmful to me for a couple of reasons:
1) I feel overwhelmed, so I am already weepy.
2) I tread on very thin ice when it comes to body image, and it hurts me to realize that such an ignorant comment could shake me so badly.
I am sad that something said so flippently could shake my self-confidence. I am sad that the quiet, constant whisper of my self-conscience in high school is reappearing after years of pushing it out of my head. "Does everybody think that I am fat?" I look at my pictures and there seems to be reflected this constant struggle with getting my body to conform to the current standards of beauty. I hated my breasts in school because I was the only one who had a D cup, so I was either labeled a slut or not thin. I hated my butt because guys would always comment on the shape and size as I walked down the hallways. I hated my arms because they were so thin and so weak. I hated my thighs because I couldn't wear the sundresses that were so popular. There were so many limitations that came with my body type. It was only in college that I learned how to work with them and then I really started to believe that my body type was actually what was desirable. I thought that I had a truly feminine shape that men are attracted to. I believed that so much that I started attracting guys who would reaffirm my new confident body belief. I finally started attracted guys that were not a step down for me, guys that were good for me. I started realizing that there was more to me than this body that was provided, and that I could maneuver around it so expertly that no one would notice that I now had even bigger breasts and even more curves. I actually believed that this was the best I have ever looked because I was the most comfortable with myself than I have ever been.
It is sad when you realize all of that growth can be shattered by a word, an ignorant moment, a suggestion. The self-doubt that was so meticulously buried comes back to the surface and the burden is once again strapped to my already over-worked shoulders. One word proves that I am so breakable.
Someone sent me a random message letting me know that I look great now, because in high school, he thought I was "kinda big." Then he said right after that: "no offense." This comment is harmful to me for a couple of reasons:
1) I feel overwhelmed, so I am already weepy.
2) I tread on very thin ice when it comes to body image, and it hurts me to realize that such an ignorant comment could shake me so badly.
I am sad that something said so flippently could shake my self-confidence. I am sad that the quiet, constant whisper of my self-conscience in high school is reappearing after years of pushing it out of my head. "Does everybody think that I am fat?" I look at my pictures and there seems to be reflected this constant struggle with getting my body to conform to the current standards of beauty. I hated my breasts in school because I was the only one who had a D cup, so I was either labeled a slut or not thin. I hated my butt because guys would always comment on the shape and size as I walked down the hallways. I hated my arms because they were so thin and so weak. I hated my thighs because I couldn't wear the sundresses that were so popular. There were so many limitations that came with my body type. It was only in college that I learned how to work with them and then I really started to believe that my body type was actually what was desirable. I thought that I had a truly feminine shape that men are attracted to. I believed that so much that I started attracting guys who would reaffirm my new confident body belief. I finally started attracted guys that were not a step down for me, guys that were good for me. I started realizing that there was more to me than this body that was provided, and that I could maneuver around it so expertly that no one would notice that I now had even bigger breasts and even more curves. I actually believed that this was the best I have ever looked because I was the most comfortable with myself than I have ever been.
It is sad when you realize all of that growth can be shattered by a word, an ignorant moment, a suggestion. The self-doubt that was so meticulously buried comes back to the surface and the burden is once again strapped to my already over-worked shoulders. One word proves that I am so breakable.
A Very Sad Day
My sister called me this morning to tell me that her beloved dog, Taco, was run over by a car when she let him out this morning. I loved that dog. It made me think about how it would make me feel if Buster was taken from me.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
A "Nice and Naughty" Confession
If anybody knows the reference that I am making in my title, then you know where this post is going.
I have a horrible confession. I love the new Paris Hilton's new song, "Stars are Blind." I tried to fend off the sweet melody in my ears, but I have succumbed to the sound. The beat is pop reggae. Go ahead and scoff. I expect it. BUT! I do love it. So there. Shameless admission complete.
I have a horrible confession. I love the new Paris Hilton's new song, "Stars are Blind." I tried to fend off the sweet melody in my ears, but I have succumbed to the sound. The beat is pop reggae. Go ahead and scoff. I expect it. BUT! I do love it. So there. Shameless admission complete.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Worth
When did that happen?
The moment that I became so self-conscience.
I find myself obsessed with my looks, even though not enough to change the things I don't like about my appearance. I worry about what I will say, or what I do, or what I look like. I worry that I won't have friends or that I will never get married, or that I will and be miserable. I have doubts about my abilities as a writer and as a woman and as a friend.
I know that I teeter on the fence of being over-analytical, but I feel that my life isn't starting yet. I will be turning 23, something that I JUST figured out a few days ago, and that number is like an alarm clock set on midnight. I don't know why 21 or 22 didn't do that to me. There is no explanation for this change, except for seeing all of my friends "grow up." Those friends that I used to have that still spend their days laying by a pool and going out to clubs at night have all fallen by the wayside in my life, mostly because I do not have anything in common with them anymore. If I compared where I am with them, I probably would feel right on track. I hate that I freak out like this, especially when I know everything will be fine, but mostly because I don't like always waiting for life to start until I look back and see that I have wasted my life waiting.
Once I graduate, I would like to know where I will be working and living. Then, I will go on to my personal life and try to sort through all of that. I see "child brides" getting everything together at the age of nineteen and wonder what is going on with me. I always wanted to be a relatively young mom, but that number just keeps getting pushed back. A few years ago, I used to wish for a miracle so that I would be married and pregnant, but obviously that did not happen. I don't even know why I used to wish that. Maybe that is how I define worth.
This entry, as most of my entries, is not really going anywhere, but I know that I am starting to feel WAY overwhelmed with the internship, classes, and work, so I am venting.
The moment that I became so self-conscience.
I find myself obsessed with my looks, even though not enough to change the things I don't like about my appearance. I worry about what I will say, or what I do, or what I look like. I worry that I won't have friends or that I will never get married, or that I will and be miserable. I have doubts about my abilities as a writer and as a woman and as a friend.
I know that I teeter on the fence of being over-analytical, but I feel that my life isn't starting yet. I will be turning 23, something that I JUST figured out a few days ago, and that number is like an alarm clock set on midnight. I don't know why 21 or 22 didn't do that to me. There is no explanation for this change, except for seeing all of my friends "grow up." Those friends that I used to have that still spend their days laying by a pool and going out to clubs at night have all fallen by the wayside in my life, mostly because I do not have anything in common with them anymore. If I compared where I am with them, I probably would feel right on track. I hate that I freak out like this, especially when I know everything will be fine, but mostly because I don't like always waiting for life to start until I look back and see that I have wasted my life waiting.
Once I graduate, I would like to know where I will be working and living. Then, I will go on to my personal life and try to sort through all of that. I see "child brides" getting everything together at the age of nineteen and wonder what is going on with me. I always wanted to be a relatively young mom, but that number just keeps getting pushed back. A few years ago, I used to wish for a miracle so that I would be married and pregnant, but obviously that did not happen. I don't even know why I used to wish that. Maybe that is how I define worth.
This entry, as most of my entries, is not really going anywhere, but I know that I am starting to feel WAY overwhelmed with the internship, classes, and work, so I am venting.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Monday, June 05, 2006
Ireland: Part Two
Hello All,
I just wanted to post a quick note to tell you to check out my Ireland slide show on my myspace account. I think everybody who reads this knows it, but if you don't, my address is posted on another entry. Cheers!
Kasey
I just wanted to post a quick note to tell you to check out my Ireland slide show on my myspace account. I think everybody who reads this knows it, but if you don't, my address is posted on another entry. Cheers!
Kasey
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