Ugh, am at it again!
Reading the minutiae of other people's lives, that is. And it's all the Guardian's best blogs of the year's fault. Am especially hooked on the all-text blog of the best in writing winner, the highly entertaining and smart Belle De Jour, "Diary of a London Call Girl". The best design winner, The Big Smoker, looks so polished and effortless I felt a slight twinge of blog envy. But I know I'm somewhat a technophobe, so there.
Belle De Jour is by turns erotic, sleazy, gut wrenching (Well, reading on fisting, anal sex etc. chills my blood and makes my knees refuse to support me.), evocative, and abrasively funny. The writing of the anonymous call girl (Is she? Or isn't she? We're all online, so who knows?) is way more polished than what some of my classmates submitted in Creative Writing before.
Spent the better part of the day piling on our links at the left-side bar, organizing them, and scanning the Guardian's best Brit blogs. Yes, my boss was out again. If she ever asks me what the hell I've been doing the past two weeks, I wouldn't know what to answer. If only I could say, I revised a short story, typed up a few journal entries, workshopped a friend's short story draft. But I didn't even do self-serving things like that. Who am I kidding?
Haha, am listening to so much R.E.M. at work it's making me sick!
What the hell am I gonna do with this job? I don't really admire the person it's turning me into. So without question I should just junk the job, right? Easier said than done. There's money and planning where I want my life to go. This isn't just about gaining job experience anymore. I'm now in the very real process of dredging up the courage for a career shift.
Reading the minutiae of other people's lives, that is. And it's all the Guardian's best blogs of the year's fault. Am especially hooked on the all-text blog of the best in writing winner, the highly entertaining and smart Belle De Jour, "Diary of a London Call Girl". The best design winner, The Big Smoker, looks so polished and effortless I felt a slight twinge of blog envy. But I know I'm somewhat a technophobe, so there.
Belle De Jour is by turns erotic, sleazy, gut wrenching (Well, reading on fisting, anal sex etc. chills my blood and makes my knees refuse to support me.), evocative, and abrasively funny. The writing of the anonymous call girl (Is she? Or isn't she? We're all online, so who knows?) is way more polished than what some of my classmates submitted in Creative Writing before.
Spent the better part of the day piling on our links at the left-side bar, organizing them, and scanning the Guardian's best Brit blogs. Yes, my boss was out again. If she ever asks me what the hell I've been doing the past two weeks, I wouldn't know what to answer. If only I could say, I revised a short story, typed up a few journal entries, workshopped a friend's short story draft. But I didn't even do self-serving things like that. Who am I kidding?
Haha, am listening to so much R.E.M. at work it's making me sick!
What the hell am I gonna do with this job? I don't really admire the person it's turning me into. So without question I should just junk the job, right? Easier said than done. There's money and planning where I want my life to go. This isn't just about gaining job experience anymore. I'm now in the very real process of dredging up the courage for a career shift.
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