Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Going Gangbusters.

Folks, I am giving up.

I have found that at this little bit of correspondence you and I shared over the past few years became more and more bleak, I could never really pin-point why.

It was this horrible event - these last few years - to get up and post something on this column or write about my days simply becasue i was being pulledby some evil force to think only the nasty and hateful things that were happening to me.

As my own mother was recapping how her hiatus to Las Vegas was this past week, she subtly sliped into the conversation how a pile of rejection letters from prospective jobs and internships had been pilling up over the past few weeks.

All of the last places I had bee nsweating over and worrying about. The fianl few newspapers that thought I might somehow make a difference, but in the end thought the better of it.

It was not like they were major papers either. They were out of the way places in far flung corners of the country. Fuck it, i suppose, they don't want me.

So, kids, I'm getting out. This is it. The fianl boarding call and the last call.

Now, now, dry those tears, young lad. This is not the time for a funeral for my journalism career. I have been told I am a wonderful PR hack and the university is looking to bolster its ranks a few at a time.

Or, who knows, working vicariously through college students to fulfill or discover what I missed in my four years might not be so bad. it took my attorney five years to fianlly figure out what he wanted.

I knew we had passed the point of no return Today when my own family started sending me things about how to get into grad school. Look at me, ma, MBA and all.

There is a sence of freedom in knowing what you dont want to do or can't do. Its one less avenue I will have to weirly walk down everytime I want to look beyond my own horizon.

It's the boulevard of broken dreams, so condem the whole structure and jsut get the hell out of the way of the blasting caps.

This is the end.

Not so much in a sence of goodbye forever, more like moving away to another town. We will still write and be friends - we jsut won't see eachother or spend time together anymore.

There are far to many thingsa out there that have yet to be discovered and i kept the damn blinders on all of my academic career.

Friday and the rest of the weekend took me by complete surprise. Maybe its time we get back to living like we used to in the past - Adventure was the key, not alcohol. Maybe I need to just quit being such a damn loser and ask this girl out again.

Either way, I have a few projects now. None of them include the damn Missourian and not one of them include a summer plan. I'm beinging to find comfort in this.

The lack of plan will be my last refuge.

Vegas will be my Alamo.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Random Thoughts from Hell

Here I am again - sitting in a chair that yields a great view of the chaos that is about to become another great sports section. Here I am again - with my chin slung into my hand as I prop my head forward, bored, waiting for something to happen.

I have gone beyond hating this job to a general euphoria of knowing it will not end until I graduate from this place. Every Tuesday night from 4 p.m. until 1 a.m. I have to sit here and act like I enjoy being talked down too by an squad of jacka asses who get their jollies from split infinitives and gerunds that dont match the base or some rot like that.

Every Thuesday I have to sit here and act professional while I blog on company time pretending to do my journalistic duty to the human race. I know how the copy chief laughs at me becasue I can't do this. I also know how they all hid behind cupped hand talking about how someone will need to cover for my mistakes.

Well, I am so glad the teaching process continues here. The Missouri Method my ass, I want out of here.

It's not all piss and vinegar - at least I am told I am the only one who can write a coherent headline. Seems editing and headline writing is not found in the same vein. Go figure.

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I have yet to understand why women wear decorative scarves. It makes no sence to me. They are wearing short sleeved shits and tiny cardigan sweaters and yet this silk scarf still hang from teir necks.

It is the new necklace.

I think my dislike for them come from the same irratioanl fear I have of turtle necks. Have you ever seen me in a turtle neck...nope...and for good reason. The crappy Pucca Shell Necklaces that all the kids loved in jur high and high school fell into this same catagory.

Nothing around my neck, please. It only makes the bears angry, and frankly, you don't want an anrgy bear to ruin you picnic - no do you?

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Great line from the Kansas City Star on Sunday in regard to MU losing 79-46 against KU. All after the resignation/firing/public hanging or Quin Snyder:

Even Kirk Hinrich, a former KU star from 2000 to 2003...was shaking his head.

"To be honest with you," he said, "it's hard to believe. I don't now why everything happene, if Quin Snyder resigned or was forced outor whatever. But I had respect for him. He did a good job there when I was here. But when you've got a team that goes through what Missouri has gone through, you never really know what going to happen."

Ultimately, it was that bad for Missouri; sympathy from a Jayhawk.

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So, I have been offered a job. It has nothing to do with why I am at this university, nor is it even close to why I came to the school of journalism.

No, I am being offered an administrators position with the Department of Student Life. Essentially, after my stint as director of one student organization. they now think I need to take on seveal studetn organizations.

THe program seems fairly simple enough. Come back and work as a "Graduate Assistant" for two years while they send me to graduate school for two years to get an MBA or degree in education. After getting that out of the way, they will hire me on as a full-time Assistant Director of Student Life.

I would be the one running your Summer Welcome and Get-to-know-you Freshman Events. I would be the one who trains and maintains the student government leaders. I would be the one coaching these bastards through every budget hurdle and legislativve loop hole.

I would be the anti-Me from Freshman year who wanted to bring down the MSA presidency through reporting on its election. It was a farce then and will always be a face. Nothing but a joke to those on the outside who see it for what it really is - a club for the prettentious and socially depraved.

Do I want to be the next Mark Lucas? or Kathy Scroggs. I guess everyone gets desprate enough at some point in their lives.

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I have yet to hear back from anyone on the real job front. Anyone out there looking for a depressed bitter writer?

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Happy (fucking) Valentines day...

"Why do you eat and drink so much?"
"Well, at least I can feel full rather than nothing at all."
- Bobby Hill to Bill on King of the Hill.

Wonderful, it is another great holiday that we all can gather around and sing the hymns of love and pure kindness and other rot like that.

Valentines Day - where we wait for Love to come bounding down the chimney to fill our stockings with various STD and other disapointments. Well, kiddies, just like Santa Clause, Love does not exist. it was a fucking lie perpetuated by your parents as they fell deeper and deeper into an abusive relationship with eachother.

this nugget of information was not imparted to me by my professors or some role model - no, it was shouted at me by some asshole in a moving vehicle. It actually sounded more like Suck my Balls, but the meaning was the same.

Of course, as people all over the country embrace and show how much they love eachother despite how much weight they have yet to lose post-new years resolution, I sure as hell was not about to let anyone be happy around me today.

Sitting in my quasi-office one young girl came bounding in and announced that after her studying and class work, her current boyfirend of the week was going to take her to dinner at some fancy place and then spend the evening with her watching some movie about how we all were simpler in high school or about how life can be summed up by one hopless comedy of idiots who do not know shit about the world.

I was not going ot have this. So I found something I did not like about her and proceded to yell at her for about 15 minutes.

"I was having such a good day until now," she said on the verge of tears.

"Not my problem. Fuck you."

Fuck, it was even more depressing today as I was sitting in my attoreny's office and we both mused about this jovial day of mirth and frivolity.

"You know, it is kind of sad that the only phone call I am expcting to wish me a happy valentines day is from my Mom," my attorney thought outloud burying his head into the newspaper and trailing off.

The sad part was so far that day my mom had already called me. That was the only phone call I expcted too. Oh, but don't pitty me or think I am some kind of abnormality.

I sit pretty comfortably at the news desk of the Missourian. The only thing I envy right now is the team of sports reporters who are violently writing and reporting the latest cluster-fuck by this athletic department. Shit, when will this god-awful storm end. They get to write the stories, I jsut sit here and read them like everyother braindead idiot who picks up this garbage we call The Missourian.

You know, I have had fun valentines days in the past (grade school parties and crap in high school does not count). No, last year was amazing. There was no expectation or planning. It was just me drunk in a tree shouting nonsence to the people below. Next to me is the one woman who seemed to understand it all and continued to reach into my coat pockets for her next beer. But she is gone now.

Never again.

Dan Savage was talking in his column that Valentines day really is nothing more than a corporate holiday. Well, that is nothing new, but I did appreciate his counter-holiday to this vile event

Steak and Blow Job day.

On this day women across the country will serve up a fine steak and one blow job to each guy. Instead of chocolates and flowers - T-bone and a face fuck.

Frankly, he said, the only reason it has not made it natioanl, is becasue Halmark has yet to figure out how to fit it all on a card. This is the kind of man who needs to be a woman - that I can date.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Wake up! My news is more important.

I love phone calls in the middle of the night.

You might think this is weird or that I am being scarcastic, but I really do enjoy getting phone calls (both sober and drunk) after 1 a.m.

There is something about the way the person who is calling cannot wait until morning that makes its urgeny 100 percent more urget. The headline, if one could be written for a late night phone call would be in the 200 pt. type that screams something like "WAR!" or "VICTORY"

Of course the really good phone calls are always middle of the week, right at 2 a.m. or later. These are the real people who live lives that do not conform to the 9 to 5, drink your lunch crowd. No, these are the people who live life at all hours.

These are not some run-of-the-mill How's-your-mother chat. Fuck no, this is a Get the hell out of bed and listen to my story, thought, concern, query or drunk adventure from the night.

No sir, my friends do not waste time or wait until morning with news so great as, "I jsut out drank my light weight frind at a gay bar and now we are going swimming!"

That, sirs, is something you stop the mother-f-ing presses and you call Me in the middle of the night. We run the correct story, no matter how late police find some investment bankers shot up in their car in Williamsburg.

I have tried calling people in the middle of the night with such news only to be reminded that it is 3:14 a.m. by someone who is grumpy or horse-voiced. Or, worse yet, routed to voice mail. By god what has happened to my firends who were so willing to take my middle of the night phone calls and now seem to be pre-occupied with "sleep"?

I have not had a good nights sleep (that was not induced by alcohol) since my freshman year of high school - why are you people?

Well, we are fast approaching the 2 a.m. hour. I think it is time I give one of you bastards a wake up call to inform you that I have jsut updated this vile blog.

Friday, February 03, 2006